#like nearly 3000 words long

[umbracirrus]

So, I have updated The Perfect Storm, my Balgruuf/Dragonborn fic on AO3 before my toothache becomes too much, I am terrible when it comes to handling pain.

It's rated E for content yet to come (oh no, is that a bad pun?)

Chapter description: With permission from the Priestess of Kynareth to now leave Whiterun, Elyse decides to go to the cluttered mess of a 'house' which was Lakeview Manor.

Chapter excerpt:

Hearing the rain pelting the ground as they walked, with dirt between cobbled stones gradually turning to mud as the temperatures steadily grew lower through the lack of sunlight and as an earthy smell began to overpower the honey sweetness coming from Honningbrew, was enough to put Elyse’s mind totally at ease. Much of her travels throughout Skyrim had been in similar such conditions, albeit with some places having the rain replaced with snow and a crunch beneath her feet, and it just felt right.

It took little over an hour to reach Riverwood at their steady pace, and though the weather didn’t seem the calmest it had ever been in Skyrim, it certainly wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Business seemed to be moving as usual in the village, with the sound of the sawmill in action and hammering at the forge being like the town’s heartbeat – persistent and unwavering. That led to the decision to continue on to Lakeview Manor, but not without a momentary rest break and diversion into the Sleeping Giant Inn to get a drink and dry off for a few minutes before moving on.

By late morning, Elyse and Lydia had arrived at the house, and it wasn’t a moment too soon – the distant rumbling of thunder echoed through the mountains, soon followed by a flash in the direction of Lake Ilinalta.

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 8 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: It has been too long since you heard from Bradley. Perhaps something went wrong. Or maybe he was avoiding you. Just when you start trying to accept that the last few months were too good to be true, things start to turn around again.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, language, Bradley being sweet

Length: 3000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Days went by. With only two weeks left of Bradley's deployment, you weren't really expecting to receive air mail at school with your name on it, but you certainly did miss it anyway. Your students asked about him every morning, wondering if he'd sent a new email, hoping for another video with Marty. But you got nothing in either of your email inboxes.

He was on your mind almost constantly. What happened on his mission? Did the Navy decide it was okay to cut off communication right when you were completely attached to hearing from him? Did this really mean you had to wait until the aircraft carrier arrived back in San Diego? 

It was right before your students were due to arrive in your classroom that you had perhaps the most distressing thoughts of all. What if something went terribly wrong and he didn't survive? Or what if this was simply his way of ghosting you before he had to see you in person?

Jayden raced in ahead of the rest of your class, calling your name along the way. "Did Lieutenant Bradshaw write back yet?"

You pointed him toward his desk as you shook your head. "I already explained that he may not have time to respond before his deployment ends."

Jayden just bounced in place in front of you. "Then that means he can visit us when he gets back!"

Now a small group of your kids surrounded you, and you wished more than anything that you could tell them that Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw, their beloved pen pal, would definitely be visiting your classroom in a few short days. Instead you told them, "Please, take your seats so we can start our Natural History lesson."

This turned out to be your new normal. Every time you got an email notification, you jumped to unlock your phone, but it was never a message from Bradley. When you saw a box tucked in your mail cubby in the school office, you ran for it, only to find the science supplies you ordered weeks ago had arrived. You even forced yourself to go back and read some of the old emails from him, just to make sure it all really happened, but his words left you aching for more.

...I like giving Gorgeous teachers butterflies...

...You'd look adorable snuggled up in your bed. But then again, when aren't you completely Gorgeous?...

...Gorgeous girl, you're messing with my head...

...And it's not a matter of if I touch you, it's a matter of when...

After nearly two weeks had gone by, you tried to figure out if the USS Theodore Roosevelt was back in port, but short of driving to North Island to see for yourself, you couldn't seem to find a solid answer online. And if you did drive there and found it at the dock, what were you supposed to do? Contact the US Navy? If they told you that nothing happened to Lieutenant Bradshaw and that he was perfectly fine, you'd be mortified. If they told you something in fact did happen to him in the last two weeks, you'd be devastated. That's assuming you could even get them to give you any information at all which was doubtful.

On Friday, you were on the verge of tears as you got ready for work. "You're being ridiculous," you whispered, and that fact made you want to cry even more. You tried to take the time to make yourself look presentable, thinking that may be the key to having a good day. Your outfit was cute. Your makeup looked nice. But you weren't smiling, and you didn't feel like doing so at all. 

You grabbed your bag, hoping the short ride with your favorite playlist would be enough to get your spirits up, but all you could think about was how you probably weren't cut out for life with a guy in the military anyway. Waiting around like this to see what was going on was making your stomach upset, and you weren't getting enough sleep. When you closed your eyes, you just pictured a very kissable face with a scarred cheek and big brown eyes.

"You need to focus," you scolded as you parked your car and headed into the school with your ID badge. You had eighteen kids who required your attention, and you'd once again give it to them, because you were fantastic at your job. 

This morning, Violet was the first one to mention Bradley in passing, and you had to shake your head. "Please find your seats. If I hear from Lieutenant Bradshaw, I promise I will let you know. I'm not hiding any letters or emails from you all, okay?" You tried to smile as you said, "I'd like to hear from him every bit as badly as you would. I can guarantee that."

You struggled through your morning lessons, often reminding yourself that you needed to focus on your students. Then you sat quietly at your desk with the classroom lights off during lunch, scrolling back through the dozens of emails you'd exchanged with Bradley on your phone. You pulled up the picture of the sun setting behind him in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, and even though you tried, you couldn't find anything other than the most sincere expression on his handsome face.

Maybe he would text you this weekend, letting you know he was back and your date was on. You had to believe he would still contact you. When the bell rang, you counted to ten, and then your students came flooding back through your classroom door. They wanted to tell you all about how Jasper from Mrs. Wynn's class got in trouble during lunch, and you humored them before saying, "I'm sure none of you would misbehave like that in the cafeteria."

"No way!" Henry promised.

"That's what I like to hear," you told him with a forced smile. "Once you're all in your seats, we'll start our math lesson. Maybe I'll put a few aviation problems on the board at the end if you show me how well you can focus for the next twenty minutes."

You had just started copying the first fraction that you wanted to discuss from your notebook onto the board when there was a sharp knock on your classroom door. You sighed and let your forehead rest briefly on the white board, knowing that another disruption would completely derail your kids after all the lunchtime nonsense. When you turned to face the door, they were already starting to chatter with each other. 

"Come in!" you called out, and every head in your room whipped around to see who was there and what they wanted. 

When the door swung open, the room went silent. The first thing you thought about was how peculiar it was to see someone in a khaki military uniform standing there. Then your eyes slid up that tall, muscular frame as your lips parted in surprise. As soon as you met his gaze, he smiled and said, "Hey, Gorgeous."

You couldn't speak. As he took a full step into your classroom and pulled the door closed, you finally noticed he was holding some pretty flowers. Then he was heading your way, his combat boots squeaking ever so slightly against the tile floor with each long stride. Bradley Bradshaw wasn't hesitating at all as he made his way directly to you while your students started talking again.

"It's Lieutenant Bradshaw!"

"I knew he'd come visit us ever since I asked him to!"

"Does this mean his deployment is over?"

"Why does he have flowers?"

He didn't stop until he was standing right in front of you, and the butterflies in your belly were fluttering so much, you were convinced you could float off of the floor. You weren't sure what else to say, so you simply whispered, "Bradley."

His smile grew as he said, "I love the way that sounds when you say it." You could only squeak in response, and his warm gaze flicked from your eyes down to your lips. At this rate you'd be a puddle at his feet in the next ten seconds. He swallowed hard, cheeks flushed as he leaned in closer, taking another small step forward until his boot gently bumped your shoe. His voice took on a raspier edge as said, "You told me you wanted me to kiss you as soon as I saw you."

He didn't stop slowly closing the distance, and when you reached out and let your fingers tangle with his, you whispered, "Please." Then you closed your eyes as his lips brushed feather light against yours. You gasped. He was here. Nothing had ever felt as good as this in your life. You opened your eyes to find him grinning right in front of you, and you chased him for another one of his dreamy kisses.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw kissed her!"

"I think they're in love!"

"They are definitely going to be girlfriend and boyfriend!"

Bradley wrapped his fingers around yours a little tighter as you and he laughed, and he ducked his head before looking up at your class. His cheeks were the most alluring shade of pink as he told them, "Hey, I hope you don't mind that I decided to surprise you and your teacher."

"We don't mind!" shouter Oliver as he was practically sitting on his desk now in excitement. All of the kids were bouncing with anticipation, and you couldn't stop smiling as Violet clapped her hands together.

"Great, because I brought my responses to your last batch of letters, too. I can't thank you enough for being my pen pals for the last few months. You made my time away from home a lot more fun." He turned to look at you before softly adding, "And you made coming back home feel really good."

You wanted to kiss him again. You wanted to run your fingers along his scars and press your lips to his skin in their wake. You wanted to bury your nose against his neck and inhale the smell of his skin and his uniform collar. You wanted to feel his mustache on your lips. Instead, because every eye in the room was on the two of you, you told him, "I'm really happy you're here." You tugged on his hand so he was standing front and center, and you turned to your kids and asked, "What do we say when we have a special guest visit us?"

"Thank you!" they all shouted in unison.

"That's right," you told them. Then you looked up at Bradley, and he handed you the flowers with a crooked little grin, and that's when you noticed he had a small notebook in his hand as well. 

"Can I call each kid up to get their letter?" he asked, as if you would deny him anything at the moment. "Then I can put faces to all of the names."

You were still definitely at risk of melting. "You wrote each of them a personal letter again?" you asked him, holding your flowers to your chest and trying not to swoon.

"Yeah," he replied, opening his notebook to show you. He stood there, looking devastatingly sexy, tearing out a page for every kid. He called each of them up and talked to them for a minute. He remembered the name of Jayden's dog. He remembered that Violet loved neon-colored everything. He remembered that Henry said his grandfather was in the Navy. He remembered so much, and he was so willing to indulge all of their questions.

You just stood there with your flowers and watched this endearing man captivate all nineteen of you with his words. He let Oliver try on one of his insignia pins. He drew a diagram of an aircraft carrier on your white board. He met your gaze more often than not. He smiled at you every time he did. He told your students that the reason they were so smart was because you were such a good teacher. The butterflies were here to stay now.

When you looked around, you noticed that your kids were cherishing their personal notes just like you were your flowers. You didn't want this afternoon to end, and yet, as soon as the first bell rang at three o'clock, you jumped to attention. The sooner your students cleared out of the room for the weekend, the sooner you could hopefully have a few minutes alone with Bradley before he wanted to go home and rest.

"We need to pack up," you announced, finally setting the bouquet down on your desk while Bradly affixed his pin back on his uniform shirt.

"Do we have to?" whined Jayden. "Lieutenant Bradshaw like just got here!"

He had in fact been in your classroom for over two hours, but you couldn't blame them for wanting more. Bradley cleared his throat and looked at you as he said, "I could come back again?" with that sincere gaze you were already weak for. "Spend a few more hours answering questions? Maybe bring some engine parts with me?"

You bit your lip before you could whimper out loud, and he started to head in your direction. "We would love that," you told him.

"Yeah?" he asked you as your kids erupted into a rowdy mob, grabbing all of their belongings as the final bell rang.

"Mmhmm," you hummed, waving lazily to your students as they shouted their goodbyes to both you and Bradley. His steps had him reaching you right as the last few kids left your room, and you whispered, "You'll come back?"

He reached for your hand as he said, "I'll do anything you want, Gorgeous." He must have been able to read the needy look on your face, because when you tugged on his hand, he came all the way to you. His other hand ended up at your waist as his lips found yours, and this time, the feather light kisses deepened as you parted your lips. Bradley groaned softly, kissing you just right, and then he whispered, "I've been dying for this."

Your arms went around his neck, kissing him a little frantically, melting at his touch and the feel of his soft, wavy hair between your fingers. "Me too," you told him before pulling his bottom lip gently between yours. He backed you up until you bumped into your desk, and all you could think about was how good his weight would feel on top of you.

Your skin felt too hot when he finally broke the kiss, panting softly as you ran your thumb along his scars. "I didn't like not hearing from you the past two weeks," you told him, and his brown eyes softened even as his hold on you tightened a little bit. "It was... kind of scary."

"I didn't like it either," he told you. "And I was going to text you immediately when we docked this morning, but then I decided to just come here instead." He grinned as your fingers crept back up into his hair. "If they didn't let me sign in with my military ID in the front office, I don't know what I would have done. I just wanted to see you."

You kissed his chin and said, "Usually I hate surprises. But this one was perfect."

"Okay, see, that's good information to know," he rasped. "I only got a ride home long enough to throw my duffle in the front door and hop in my Bronco. I stopped for the flowers, and then I just wanted to get here with my notebook."

You tipped your head back and whispered, "How am I supposed to deal with how sweet you are?"

"Oh! That reminds me," he muttered, rubbing his hand along your back before releasing you and strolling over to where he left his notebook on Oliver's desk. The way your body wanted you to follow him was surprising, but it gave you a chance to look at him again from head to toe as you stood next to your desk. There was nothing out of place on this man, and you pressed your lips together as his bicep flexed against his shirt sleeve. He tore another sheet of paper from his notebook and said, "I have one more note to deliver."

He walked back over to you, and when he held it up with a hopeful look, you took it from him and read.

Hey, Gorgeous. I couldn't wait one more minute to see you. And now that I'm here, I don't want today to end. Is there any way I can convince you to let me take you out for our first official date tonight instead of tomorrow? Bradley

When you looked up from the page, his eyebrows were raised, and that crooked little grin was hovering close to the surface. "I know I said to plan for tomorrow, but I can't fucking wait that long."

You bit down on your lip, shocked by how much better today turned out to be than you could have ever imagined earlier this morning. "Yeah. You've convinced me, Bradley. Tonight sounds perfect."

With that, you were treated to a little smirk beneath his mustache. He carefully took the sheet of notebook paper from your hands, set it down next to the flowers on your desk and proceeded to kiss you senseless.

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

He's going to make me hyperventilate. Those kids were SO excited to have him in their classroom, but they were nowhere near as excited as Gorgeous! He's home! And he wants to have his beach picnic and takeout and makeout sesh immediately. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 9

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[parkerslatte]

Congratulations :) 21, 48 with azriel :)

A/N: Thank you so much and thank you for your request :)

_____

Hands To Myself

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: none

Summary: At a family dinner, Y/N and Azriel can’t seem to keep their hands to themselves.

Prompts Used: 21. You can't keep your u hands off each other, even though no one knows about the two of you. 48. "You've been smiling much more recently."

3000 Follower Celebration

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

From across the dining room table, Y/N met Azriel’s hazel eyes. The eyes that she loved more than anything. From a distance, all of the colours that made up the unique colour blurred together but Y/N knew all of the different shades of browns, grey’s and the small flecks of green. Looking into Azriel’s eyes was Y/N’s own personal work of art that Feyre could never quite capture accurately. They were so unique to him.

Y/N watched Azriel raise his fork to his mouth, clearly trying to fight off the smile trying to break out on his face. Even though she knew that it was a bad idea, Y/N smiled in Azriel’s direction. There was a lot to love and admire about the shadowsinger but the one thing that stood out amongst the rest was his smile. It was what drew Y/N in in the first place.

At first it was those small smiles he would only offer to people he barely knew as a greeting. Then it progressed to his smiles of comfort, and Y/N had been on the receiving end of one too many of those smiles. However it wasn’t long before those smiles of comfort transitioned to the smallest of smiles where a sliver of Azriel’s teeth were visible. Those were the smiles that his family usually bore witness to. Those were the smiles when Azriel was most at ease. 

However, as they grew closer and closer, Y/N began to notice Azriel’s smiles begging to get larger and larger. Showing off his one dimple on his left cheek. And it didn’t take Y/N long to notice that those smiles were reserved strictly for her. 

Y/N found herself smiling down at her food as she cut into a potato. Underneath the table, she stretched her legs out until she brushed against Azriel’s foot. Touch he didn’t react visibly, Y/N felt the slight brush of his leg against hers. Y/N glanced up and met Azriel’s eyes once more. All she wanted was to abandon dinner completely and drag him all the way back to her apartment on the outskirts of Velaris. 

But, alas, that was not an option. 

Y/N and Azriel had only been together for a little over five months but they had known each other nearly two years, ever since Y/N had been brought in to help Feyre with her pregnancy. Of course two years was nothing compared to both of their considerable lifetimes, but to both Y/N and Azriel, it was like they had known each other their whole lives. 

Soon after Y/N took Azriel out on a date, the two both agreed to keep their relationship private. Not because of what the rest of the Inner Circle would say, but because they both simply preferred their privacy and they knew that if the rest of the Inner Circle knew, it would only mean relentless teasing. 

At first it was easy to keep their relationship private but as soon as it began to get more serious and the attachment grew, it was harder and harder to keep their hands off one another.

After dinner, the group headed into the living room to relax in a more comfortable environment. As they all walked the short distance to the living room, Y/N and Azriel hung back, his arm caressing her lower back. Goosebumps immediately spread across Y/N’s body. She had wanted to feel his touch all night and now that she finally did, she craved more. 

“I can’t wait to drag you back to my apartment,” Y/N muttered, her hand wrapping around his. 

Azriel bent down so his lips grazed her ear. “And do what?”

Y/N tilted her gaze to look at him, her eyes meeting his. “Whatever you want.”

That beautiful smile lit up his face as his grip on her tightened the smallest amount. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

Y/N glanced to where everyone had disappeared in the living room, the hallway was empty. “Well there’s no one out here right now.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Azriel’s lips were on hers as he pressed her against the wall. Y/N sighed in content as she parted her lips and just let Azriel devour her. From hours of being deprived of his touch, all of Y/N’s senses were heightened and she could already feel herself becoming putty in Azriel’s arms to shape and mould however he wanted and she would allow him. Her fingers threaded in his hair and pulled him even closer. Azriel obliged and wrapped his strong arms around her body and pressed her against his. One arm was around her waist while the other gently cradled the back of her head so she wouldn’t bang it against the wall. 

The feeling of being in Azriel’s arms was like no other. Of course Y/N had had her fair share of lovers in the past but none had been as attentive and caring as Azriel. He had waited over five hundred years for a love like Y/N and now that he finally had it, there was no chance he would ever let it go. Y/N savoured every touch, every word of affirmation, every single moment they spent together. She savoured them all. Of course she knew that there would be many more to come but that was just how it was with them, the amount of love shared between the two was unlike any other either of them had experienced before. They were each other’s salvation. 

“Come on you two!” Cassian’s voice chimed from the living room. “We have Rhys’s good wine!”

Y/N and Azriel pulled away from one another and Azriel reluctantly stepped back. “We should go, before they get suspicious.”

“Yes we should,” Y/N agreed.

Neither of them made a move for the living room. Y/N simply chuckled as she leant up and pecked Azriel’s cheek. “Come on, or we never will.”

Azriel followed, his hand clasped in Y/N’s but as soon as they were outside of the living room door he dropped it. Y/N immediately felt the warmth of his hand disappear and she sighed. 

“There you two are,” Cassian exclaimed. “I was about to search for you.”

Azriel simply rolled his eyes and took a seat on the couch and Y/N followed, squeezing herself in the only available spot next to him. Her whole side was pressed against his. Y/N wasn’t sure that this was a particularly good idea as all she wanted to do was curl up to his side. As hard as it was, she refrained herself. 

Y/N tilted her head to look at Azriel and he sent her a smile. Y/N returned it. 

***

The alcohol had hit everyone and Y/N had found herself with her back against the arm of the couch while her legs were draped over Azriel’s lap. She was on her fourth glass of wine and the only thing she could think of was the male she loved so dearly. His hand rested on her shin and his thumb traced patterns upon the soft skin. Of course when she and Azriel were more sober, they had refrained from any touching that wasn’t necessary, but now that had gone out of the window. Y/N wasn’t even entirely sure that Azriel realised what he was doing. 

While Y/N sipped on her glass of wine, she threw her head back and laughed at something Cassian had said. The grip on her shin slowly rose until it rested just above her knee and Y/N felt like her body was on fire. She was just glad that everyone else was affected by the wine as she hoped that none of them even noticed. 

“What about you, Az?” Rhys said.

Azriel tore his gaze away from Y/N for a brief moment to look at his brother. “What about me?”

“You’ve been smiling much more recently,” Rhys said, his arm tightening around Feyre’s shoulders. “Care to tell us the reason why?”

Azriel shrugged, though his grip on Y/N’s thigh tightened. Y/N knew that she should move position, maybe sit away from Azriel but his touch was simply addicting.

“I don’t know,” Azriel answered, looking around at the rest of his family, his gaze lingering on Y/N for a second longer. “I’m surrounded by my family.”

Cassian laughed, throwing his head back. “We should get you drunk more often, you turn into much more of a sap.”

Azriel glared at Cassian before his hand travelled higher on Y/N’s thigh. 

“Oh, Cass, leave him alone,” Y/N said, laughing. “It’s not his fault that he loves us all so much that he smiles when he thinks about it.”

Azriel looked at Y/N and tried to fight the smile but failed miserably. 

“See? He’s doing it now,” Y/N said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. 

Y/N wasn’t sure exactly what came over her as everything about their position was not subtle. Somehow throughout the duration of the conversation she had found herself sitting on Azriel’s lap and one of his arms was wrapped around her tightly holding onto her hip. She wished she had never drunk as much as she did, maybe then she would have more self control. 

It seemed as if Azriel didn’t care as he only looked at her, nothing but love in his eyes. There was a smile on his face though not the one only she was allowed to see. This was different, it was one Y/N had never seen before and she wished to see again. This smile communicated so much in such a smile gesture. I love you, the smile seemed to say.

Those three words had never been exchanged between the two, of course they both loved each other but neither had said it yet. Saying it made everything real and even though both Y/N and Azriel were very sure that the only thing they wanted was each other, it was still scary. 

Y/N found herself leaning closer to Azriel. She closed her eyes, wanting nothing more than to press her lips against his and utter those three simple words they held so much weight. But she couldn’t, not with everyone around. 

Reluctantly, Y/N pulled away and Azriel pulled her closer, unable to keep his hand off her. The desire for him gradually rose the more he touched her. Even when he conversed with Cassian and Nesta and Y/N conversed with Elain and Lucien, she was hyper aware of the places Azriel was touching on her body. She needed him desperately. And from the way Azriel was gripping onto her, he clearly felt the same. 

As soon as Azriel’s attention was back on her, Y/N leant down to whisper in his ear. “Let’s go home.”

Azriel looked into Y/N’s eyes and that one look held the same three words his smile did and he knew in that moment that he needed to leave with her in his arms.

Y/N finished the final sip of her wine before slipping from Azriel’s lap. “I’m going to head home, I’m quite tired and I’m meant to be at work early in the morning.”

“I can walk her home,” Azriel offered almost immediately, rising to his feet. Y/N smiled up at him before bidding goodbye to everyone.

As soon as they left the room and were safely around the corner, Y/N gripped onto Azriel’s hand and as soon as they were in the cool night air, she tugged him down and pressed her lips against his. 

“I love you,” Y/N said, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

Azriel smiled, the one smile Y/N had fallen in love with. “I love you too.”

Y/N sighed in content as she rested her forehead against his. “I am going to love hearing that every day.”

Azriel didn’t respond as he captured her lips once more in a short and sweet kiss before wrapping an arm around her waist. “Let’s go home, my love.”

Y/N smiled and happily walked home with Azriel, her heart bursting with love.

***

As soon as the group heard the front door close, Cassian turned to the rest of the group. “For the spymaster of the Night Court, he is not very subtle.”

“Did you see Y/N?” Nesta said. “She was practically undressing him with her eyes at dinner.”

“How long do you think they’ve been together?” Elain asked. 

Rhys leaned back on the couch. “I can tell you exactly how long they’ve been together.”

“Oh yeah?” Nesta challenged. “And how long exactly, Rhysand?”

“A little over five months,” Rhys replied. “Az was late for a meeting with me and when he finally arrived over an hour later, I had never seen him smile as much as he did.”

A soft smile made its way onto Feyre’s face. “I always had a feeling ever since they met. They just click.”

Rhys smiled at his mate. “I’m sure they are mates, the bond hasn’t seemed to snap just yet.”

“And you are so sure of that?” Feyre questioned.

Rhys nodded. “I am, because he looks at her like she holds the world in the palm of her hands. And that Feyre, darling, is exactly how I looked at you.”

Feyre smiled and pressed her lips against Rhys’s in a quick but soft kiss. “I’m glad, they both deserve all of the love in the world.”

[running-with-kn1ves]

Can you make something for a yandere masochist? Smut please

A/N: Working on all the reqs in my inbox, I just don't have much time to write! No pressure but donations always help if yall want your requests written faster!

CW: Noncon/Dubcon, yandere themes, kidnapping, threats, Sub! Masochistic yandere, aggressive-ish reader, NSFW

Synopsis: You find yourself kidnapped by your shy boyfriend who claims he's going to "take care of you."

Word Count: 3000 -- Tags ^^: @moonlight-melanin

If someone had told you that your meek nerd of a boyfriend would be the one to ever kidnap you, you probably would have laughed in their face. Your boyfriend who trips over every sidewalk crack? Your boyfriend who needs your help opening a water bottle? Your boyfriend, who begs for you to wrap your hand around his neck and worships the ground you walk on, no matter how hard you protest?

 No way in hell. 

Except, the utter blasphemy that was such an idea, was true. It was only a few nights ago that you found yourself bound by your hands and feet to a familiar bed. Your boyfriend, Rex, vaguely explained that he was "protecting you", and "keeping you away from bad people!” 

You came to the conclusion that the harm that he was supposedly protecting you from, was most likely your overly friendly coworkers and demanding job. Who knew a 9 to 5 could be so dangerous? Clearly your boyfriend. However, his ridiculous behavior didn’t falter no matter how many times you tried to convince him, no matter how many threats or bribes you threw his way. 

Sometimes he’d be nearly swayed, but something in his mind always snapped back, telling you that its alright if you despise him, if you follow out with your threats; as long, as he got to keep you safe. 

For how obedient and eager to please he was, you never realized how stubborn he could be. But unfortunately for what he had in stubbornness, he lacked in wit and authority. He always fell into your hands when it came to you offering physical affection as a secretive ploy to try and escape; not to mention, he wasn’t very good at keeping his hostages tied up.

By the third night of your capture, you managed to slip your moist hands out of the loose, steel handcuffs. Digging an old pen into the large hole of the chain cuff wrapped around your ankle, you wiggled it around to find that sweet spot that would release you. You were grateful for being able to reach the bedside drawer, finding a multitude of tools within it that helped you including the pen that was once yours, and some lotion that made your palms slick enough to slip out of the handcuffs. While you were grateful for their presence nearby, you didn’t want to know why they were close to the bed in the first place. 

You continued to roughly wiggle the pen, not hearing any clicks or cracks within the lock that would signify your release. The chain around your ankle wouldn't budge at all. At some point along the way with all your jamming of it into the lock’s hole, the pen got stuck. 

“No no no,” You whispered, trying to tug the pen out. You pulled as hard as you could, to no avail as ink began to stain your fingers. 

Well, your kidnapper would certainly notice that. 

You looked around, feeling incredibly anxious now that you were only halfway free, aware that it'd be unlikely that you got to keep this little escape trial to yourself. Though, the freedom of your hands made you feel more powerful than you had in days.

But the quick and excited footsteps outside of the bedroom door made your stomach sink. They drew closer, only stopping to fill the silence with a rapid knock to the door. Beads of sweat rolled down your neck as your dry mouth swallowed; with shaking fingers, you covered up your hands and feet under the bed comforter. 

‘Just keep them under the blanket, and he won’t notice…’

The door opened shortly after the knock, not waiting for you to respond. In came your Rex, your boyfriend-slash-kidnapper. He clammed up with a tenseness as you scowled. You brought back your signature glare that you looked at him with during the days of your capture; he seemed to shrink into himself as you didn't break eye contact. 

"Did… you like dinner? He asked, looking at your plate on the bedside table. Eyeing the plate with a frown, Rex shut the door behind him. He walked closer to your place on the bed, inspecting the plate. 

"You've hardly eaten anything since…"

"Since you kidnapped me?"

He went silent. Avoiding your judgemental stare.

"You know I'm just trying to keep you safe…" He said meekly, not fond of your cold behavior. 

"I don't want to talk, Rex. Just leave." You snarl.

 Folding your arms you turn away and focus your attention on the setting sun outside the window, reminding you that once again you'll be here for another night… another day here when you wake up. 

Rex sits down on the bed next to you, his mop of curly black hair covering his desperate face. He wouldn't be able to take it if you played the silent treatment with him-- even when you were angry like this, he'd rather suffer your wrath than hear the empty silence of his endless thoughts, keeping your sweet lips shut so tightly. 

"Please," he gripped the blankets atop your legs, trying to find a place to touch you. "I'm just doing what a boyfriend should do, don’t you get that? Why can't you understand me?"

You continued to stay silent, hearing Rex gulp as he realized you were serious in keeping your mouth shut. 

He began to grow antsy… there was a feeling of isolation in how he couldn't see all of your face as you kept your gaze to the window, how he couldn't even hold your hand or see your body beneath the mass of blanket. 

"Come on, don’t be like that…” 

Rex rolled his tongue over his teeth, gripping harder onto the sheets. His hand shakes as it reaches for yours, desperately hoping you wouldn’t tug away. 

Once he feels your arm go limp, he wastes no time in bringing it up to his cheek, hoping to feel some sort of warmth from you. Rex presses his cheek into your fingers, finding a sliver of relief in how warm and tender you feel against him. He’s hardly had the luxury of such affection since you were huddled up in his apartment. 

You don’t dare to look at the man, debating whether interrupting him or continuing to let him nuzzle would alert him faster on the fact that your handcuffs were gone. 

You didn’t have much time to think when you suddenly felt him go still, a newfound grip on your hand. He squeezed with thick fingers, the lovelust gone from his touch.

You turn to look at Rex, finding that you could not see his eyes beneath his hair and shadowed glasses. He shifted from crushing your fingers to choking your wrist, panic setting into your body. 

Rex looked up, far more quiet than you were expecting. You began to twist your arm, trying to pull it away as he bore into you. You knew the guy was odd when you first started dating, and was clearly deranged after this kidnapping fiasco-- but you never saw it clearer until now. His eyes seemed to sink into his skin as his face drained of all color. He looked almost sick, like someone hungry to hurt without any remorse. Rex’s blunt nails dug into your skin as you started to tug away roughly; his hunched body was like a feral animal ready to strike. 

Seeing as he already found out about your escape attempt, you decided it wasn’t worth wasting this chance. Maybe you could knock him down a few before he managed to get you chained up again, giving you more time before he did who knows what. 

“These arms are awfully bare.” His monotonous voice uttered. 

Rex pressed on the bruises on your wrist of where the handcuffs dug into, his eyes glazing over as you grunted in pain. Still, you fought. You brought your other arm to try and pull off his fingers, only for Rex to shift on the bed and force himself upon you. His sharp knees dug into the sides of your thighs, pulling your other arm off of him as he laid them both beside your head, against the pillows. For being quite frail and shy, he had far more strength in his desperation than you expected. You could see that he was giving his all, only tearing up momentarily when your fingers scratch him or your elbow rams into his nose. 

Within the tussle Rex managed to find the handcuffs, of which you only hid underneath the blankets beside you. Every time you tried to heighten your knees to push him off, Rex pressed deeper, bruising your skin and making you bite your lip in frustration and pain. His loose clothes and your mess of blankets made it hard to find a grip in pushing him off.

Rex pulled the cuffs up, shakily and forcefully wrapping them upon your wrists. Pulling them over the bedpost, he watched as you struggled to get out of them. But he didn’t look down at you with a smirk or a sadistic grin-- Instead, it appeared to be relief. 

Your boyfriend lowered himself to your chest as he went limp, his previous expression void of emotion except for stunned shock, shifted to a tired, nervous frown. 

“I-I don’t do this because I want to, you know.” You burn holes into him with your glare, straining to pull the cuff chain over the bedpost as Rex sat on your torso. “You don’t give me a choice!”

His loose shirt showed the front of his collarbones and the elongated muscles in his neck, the male gulping as he looked guiltily down at your chest. You were sweating from the fear and strain against the tightened metal binds. 

“Fuck off.” You grunt, continuing to tug and pull away from your tethers. 

Rex seemed to get antsy at watching you try to struggle and claw at him. His hips twitched as he moved to sit on your legs, trying to keep you from kicking him off. 

“But…If you keep pulling like that, your bruises will only get worse.” 

“I don’t give a shit.” You snapped, hardly letting him finish. Spitting towards him you continued to fight; that only seemed to spur Rex on. 

He wiggled against your hips, looking down away from you in embarrassment. the male beginning to hold your knees down, his legs wrapped around your left thigh. 

“I’m just trying to do what’s best for us…” He huffed, laying his head down on your chest, and holding onto you. 

“Rex!” You shout angrily at his innaction, trying to knee him as you pushed away from the headboard. 

“I know, I know!” You could feel the hardness inbetween his legs press against your thigh. “You can hate me if you want, can hurt me if it makes you feel better,” He meekly bit his lip with a little grunt, hesitating for a moment before he pushed his hips against your thigh. “But I can’t let you leave.”

Seeing as your struggle didn’t impede his movements, Rex slowly rocked himself against you to apply pressure. He relished in how your knee came up to grace his crotch in a stinging pleasure. You may have done it in an attempt to push him off, but all it managed to do was further Rex’s desire for your brashness, and you.

“I’m yours…” He huffed, pushing his face into the warmth of your chest. His crotch aligned with your hip, adding a new sensation as he humped like a touch-starved, horny animal. “Im yours, I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours I’m--ngh--” 

 Rex bit the collar of your shirt to stop from crying out, his moan muffled into your body as he rocked at a rhythm. In a mix of huffs he lifted his head to search for your eyes and lips. He reached up to collide his lips with yours, pressing his knee between your legs, spreading them just gently. His hands traveled down your chest slowly, hesitantly. He was always waiting for your next move, always soaking in every touch and taste of you that he could. 

You pushed against his lips, turning and ripping your mouth away. 

“I know you want to leave, but maybe I can change your mind,” He looked at you with lovestruck eyes, a growing pleasure within them. “Maybe make you feel good. I’m atleast good at that, right?” He shyly palmed at your crotch, determined and eager to make you cry out in the same desire he was swelling in. 

He just wanted your eyes to be on him. 

Rex continued to grind himself deeper into your upper thigh, wrapping his legs around your side. He released a little pant while traveling cold fingers down your chest, pulling up your shirt to expose your stomach. Reaching between your legs, he licked his lips in anticipation, cupping your sex with his hand ever so gently. 

Shutting his lips he tried to suppress his evident moans, pushing his lips against yours as he begged for an ounce of affection. You in turn, bit his bottom lip in retaliation, pressing up against to get a good clench on his mouth. You hoped it’d be enough to get him off of you, but instead Rex pressed harder, grunting in pained pleasure as he welcomed the ache. The taste of blood was left in your mouth, Rex still leaving sloppy kisses along your nipping lips, drooling as he pushed his slick tongue in your mouth, rubbing it against yours. His glasses seemed to shift downward, making him look even more of a mess.

Even as you pulled at his hair from your restraint position, Rex let out a surprised yelping groan, humping harder into your leg at the newfound pain. 

“Please, I promise to be good…” He begs between wet, one-sided kisses. “ I’ll do whatever you w…want…!” Rex hieghtened his voice with a desperate groan, showing he was close to his climax. 

His frenzied pleas showed the familiar side of the boyfriend you remembered before he kidnapped you: quiet, clingy, and too infatuated for his own good.

You could feel a wet spot of leaked pre-cum on your thigh, Rex’s hand delving under your now unbuttoned pants. 

He was quick to palm your crotch from beneath your underwear, gripping and massaging as he chased his own high, fixated on your scrunched up expression. 

His slightly open mouth drooled against your shirt as he looked up at you, desperate for you to reciprocate some kind of affection or attention. 

Rex’s expression showed he was completely enamored in the moment, with glazed over eyes and a eagerness in his thrusts as his mind solely focused on the pleasure between his weak thighs and getting something-- anything, from you. 

“You’re disgusting.” You say bitterly, grabbing Rex’s hair in another attempt to get him off of you and ruin his high. However, that did neither. 

Rex looked even more turned on, letting out painful moans at feeling you tug multiple times.

“Yes.. hah, please-- use me, do what you want--” You bit down on his shoulder as he pressed the rest of his weight down on you, leaning up to the feeling of your fingers tug. “I love you, ‘love you so much..” 

You demand him to look at you with a tug of his black curls, a small line of blood staining your lips from the hard bite you gave.��

Rex obeyed with pleasure-drunken fervor, drawing the end of his high as he witnessed his blood in your mouth. 

A part of him would always be inside you.

Rex buried his head into your neck as he orgasmed, thrusting hard up against your leg like a rabbit during mating season. Letting out a continuation of unabashed moans, his teeth bit your T-shirt as cum spilled from his release. 

In the moment, Rex had sped up his movements in pleasuring you, digging beneath your underwear to feel the heat of your sex against his hand, leaving you quite dazed yourself, You managed to hid your reaction quite well as Rex was too focused to notice, but now that seemed to shift as he began to relax. 

Rex’s pulsing touch on your crotch slowled as his breathing regulated. Though it became more difficult for you to keep your mouth shut and your face straight as he repeatedly put his thumb against the right set of nerves. 

Your boyfriend’s breath steadied as he watched you release a hitched sigh from your mouth, enjoying the way you looked at him with a dazed glare. Covered in sweat and cum, he was beginning to come down from the high he ached to feel once again. 

“Oh…I’m sorry,” He panted, face flushed and glasses falling to the tip of his nose. “ Was s’pposed to be convincing you, but I got ahead of myself…”

Rex swallowed, adjusting his glasses with the tips of his finger. The male began to quickly fondle beneath your jeans once again, ignoring how you still pushed against the headboard and cried out in frustration. He was slow at first, trying to regain the rhythm; it didn’t take long for him to find that tempo that made your knees weak. 

You felt a numbed pleasure stir between your thighs against your will, trying to toss and turn to make it go away. 

But Rex held you still, planting his weight down on your chest and stroking your heat with skill. He had touched himself so many times to pictures and thoughts of you, but he never imagined this. Even as you scrunched up your face in frustration and annoyance, he saw your teeth scrape at your lip, your hips twitching and your groans drawing out longer than before. 

You desperately clawed at your restraints, avoiding Rex’s hot and heavy stare, of which was so entranced in watching your sweet face change every time a wave of pleasure overcame you. You felt so defeated in the fact that he could tell you were feeling the effects of his touch, how you weren’t completely focused on the idea of escape anymore. 

“M’gonna make you feel so good,” Rex grinned, hazed with the afterglow of his pleasureful release and soaking up the look of undesired arousal in your eyes. 

“Just promise not to give your pleasure, your pain, to anyone else…”

[lemon-slushie]

Madeleine x Dark Choco one shot

—————-

Fluff/ sfw story, around 3000 words

Before reading I’d like to say that I am nothing close to a writer! I literally wrote this is my notes app. I just wanted to try my hand at it. I also didn’t reread so there’s probably gonna be some mistake lol but some opinions in reblogs or comments would be nice!

Dark Choco’s gaze was fixated on the river in-front of him, clear water rushed past him with fish following in the waves but he wasn’t paying attention. He had come here to catch some food for dinner. Ever since he left the sword behind and began an easy life on the outskirts of his old kingdom Dark Choco had to personally hunt his food. Originally he detested the idea of hunting innocent animals but forced himself to do what he must, and it wasn’t as bad as he expected. It was almost calming, sitting and watching the animals go by, waiting for the weak of the bunch to show itself. Perhaps it was remnants of who he used to be peaking through. Dark Choco tried to ignore that thought though. But as of recently he couldn’t bring himself to relax at all, his head was filled with one thing and one thing only. Madeleine.

Madeleine had found him a few months back. Three perhaps? Dark Choco found it hard to keep track of dates nowadays. Madeleine, on a pursuit to expand his knowledge of the world and move away from his sheltered life, had left his home and ended up lost in the dense forest of the dark cacao kingdom. Wandering almost hopelessly until a the light of a campfire caught his eye, like a beacon of hope. Dark Choco remembers very vividly the first time he saw him. The way the knight excitedly stumbled onto his camp grounds, long platinum hair wind blown and messy with one of his bangs pushed back in a wing shaped hair clip as the other fell in his face , a thick blue jacket wrapped around him, but what Dark Choco remembers most was his face. Cheeks and nose tinted red and pink from the cold, blue eyes staring eagerly at him, and a big stupid smile. He was bright and stuck out like sore thumb against the dim woods. Before Dark Choco could get a word out Madeleine happily introduced himself. A “knight commander from the great Crème republic” he professed proudly. He remembers the way Madeleine fumbled over his words, trying to act as if he wasn’t lost at all and just needed a moment to rest and warm up, but also some directions to “refresh his brain” could be nice also. Dark Choco isn’t sure what possessed him to allow Madeleine to stay, perhaps it was his odd charm…or the guilt of leaving him to freeze to death in the forest. Whatever it was, Dark Choco allowed him to stay at the camp for a while to gather himself and thaw out.

Madeleine thanked him and quickly made himself comfortable, tossing down his backpack and making himself comfortable on a conveniently placed log. He asked Dark Choco a few basic small talk questions, his name, what’s he doing out here, so on so forth. He was blunt and short with Madeleine, though it didn’t seem to phase the knight as he easily went on talking about himself. Dark choco, not having much better to do, listened and soon found himself almost enthralled in Madeleine’s stories. How he and a “coworker” had saved his republic from a stray light shard (Dark Choco hasn’t a clue what this is but judging from Madeleine’s description it must be pretty bad), and the time he and a group of others fought and defeated a dragon, along with when he and his republic fought against the forces of dark enchantress and her servants of darkness. Dark Choco cringed to himself during the last story, though not having been apart of the darkness during this event, any reminders of his past always felt like a slap in the face. Despite that he still felt drawn in by the other’s story of his heroic stories, admired him almost. Madeleine nearly embodied all the Dark Choco had wanted to be, what he could’ve been. Madeleine almost reminded him of his old self, almost.

Madeleine was certainly a character, quite loud and boisterous, and clearly full of himself. His self centered nature was definitely something that took a bit of getting used to. Though, dark choco could tell his intentions were true, which made it easier. Perhaps his stories were exaggerated at times but the way Madeleine spoke about his desire to travel and learn felt earnest. Dark Choco wasn’t sure what had possessed him, he couldn’t help but feel almost completely charmed by Madeleine. His stories of being a hero, his want to venture out past his gated republic and discover, and even his self centered attitude even charmed him at times. With that, against his better judgment, Dark Choco allowed him to stay how ever long he needed. Madeleine gave him another big smile, along with some thanks, as he began digging in his bag for his own supplies to set up camp. The rest of that night was filled with mindless banter, mostly all from Madeleine. It was odd to Dark Choco. He hadn’t had just a stupid back and forth about nothing in so long. It felt good.

The following morning Dark Choco was almost sad to see Madeleine go. Dark Choco watched as he gathered his things as he spoke about basically nothing to him. Part of him wanted to invite Madeleine to stay for breakfast, but he his nerves caused a struggle to get anything out. Dark Choco hadn’t really tried to befriend anyone in quite a while, which led him to a bit of overthinking when it came to simple things such as a breakfast. Eventually Madeleine finished packing and Dark Choco pointed him off in the right direction, after some more goodbyes and more ‘thank you’s, Madeleine was off. Until he was stopped by a sudden grip on his arm. He turned around to Dark Choco and gave him a confused look. Dark Choco probably looked like an idiot, he stared back at Madeleine with a surprised face. He acted purely out of emotion. This was rare. After a brief moment of looking stupid, dark choco fixed himself, releasing madeleines arm, and finally finding his voice.

“… Perhaps.. You could stop by, after you leave the kingdom..?”

Madeleine smiled at him.

“Of course, my friend.”

That one spur of the moment decision is what led Dark Choco to where he is now. Madeleine stayed true to his word and visited him after he left the kingdom. He even brought along some gifts and food to show his appreciation for Dark Choco’s kindness. They sat and talked for hours that night, Madeleine setting up camp with him and spending the night once more. Though, one night turned into staying for breakfast, then dinner, then another night, then three nights, then into a week, then two weeks, then a month, and so on. Perhaps they were just lonely from spending days traveling by themselves but the two just seemed to click. Dark Choco hadn’t had a friend by his side in so long that he gladly welcomed the new warmth of Madeleine. Though as the days continued dark choco couldn’t help but notice that something deeper than a feeling of friendship was beginning manifest within him. All of his thoughts were taken over by Madeleine, he was all Dark Choco could think about. His bright hair and how stray pieces fell perfectly around his face, the way his eyelashes sat over half-lidded eyes, and the thing he thought about most was his smile. Madeleine’s smile was big, goofy, and contagious. He always managed to get at least a smirk from dark choco, even from the most unfunny jokes. Just from his smile.

So here Dark Choco was now. Staring blankly into a river as he desperately tried to navigate his new feelings. Romance had never been something he thought about before, whether he didn’t have time for it or simply didn’t care for it. All of these emotions were beginning to get frustrating, he had no clue how to deal with them. He couldn’t tell Madeleine, he didn’t want to risk driving him away if the feelings weren’t mutual. What was he to do? A splash from a fish jumping in the river snapped him out of his thoughts, reminding him why he was even here in the first place. Dark Choco sighed and focused his attention onto the river, its best to try and distract himself from these thoughts.

Dark Choco made his way back to his- no, ..their campsite, with a small basket of fish in hand. Fresh snow from the night before crunched under his feet and crisp air filled his lungs. He enjoyed his new life, it was quiet and peaceful. Dark Choco walked slow and leisurely, enjoying the forest life around him. Though the freezing temperatures of the kingdom did not allow for much flowers or other plant life, he enjoyed the large old trees. The trees blocked out quite a bit of sun, leaving most of the forest floor shaded but the sun that did shine through made the snow look as though it had glitter mixed into it. A soft glow of yellow and orange against the snow and branches caught Dark Choco’s attention as he got closer to camp. He crept up behind a nearby tree and peaked over the side. Of course, there sat Madeleine by a fire. It may be odd, but Dark Choco enjoyed watching him from afar at times and seeing how he acted on his own without worry of others seeing. Perhaps it was something of a guilty pleasure, trying to get a glimpse of Madeleine without his persona. The flame infront of him was a little small, as he wasn’t very experienced in living outdoors, but he tried nonetheless. After a little bit of judging Madeleine’s camping skill, Dark Choco noticed something that made his heart skip. Madeleine had taken Dark Choco’s cloak and was wearing it. He sat with he’s knees pulled to his chest and the cloak held together at the edges like a blanket. Dark Choco didn’t know why but something about seeing Madeleine in his clothes caused a heat to rise to his cheeks. He stood and watched the knight a little longer, engraving the scene into his head, before he finally forced himself to move and approached Madeleine.

“…I’m back”

He must’ve been quiet because Madeleine nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of his voice, quickly stumbling to straighten himself out and removing the cloak.

“D- Dark Choco!! Haha! I didn’t realize you were coming back so soon!”

“…Why are you wearing that?”

Madeleine sheepishly slid the cloak off his shoulder, avoiding eye contact.

“Uh.. well, I suppose I’m not very used to such cold weather. Day and night I’m freezing no matter what. I needed some more layers and you left this behind so…”

He seemed embarrassed about being caught as he handed the cloak back but dark choco only pushed Madeleine’s hand back towards him.

“It’s alright.. You can keep wearing it…”

Dark Choco thought for a moment.

“Do you do this often?”

Madeleine nervously laughed to himself, rocking on his heels slightly.

“Only on the days you don’t take it with you. I’m not really used to such cold weather, the republic is quite warm all year round haha..”

Madeleine embarrassedly tried to explain himself but what he didn’t notice was the blush spreading on dark chocos face as he thought about Madeleine wearing his cloak around.

“…I see… that’s alright. You can wear it whenever you please..”

He smiled at dark choco, slipping the cloak back on. Though he still seemed a bit embarrassed.

“Gracious as always! Thank you, my friend!”

Dark Choco gave Madeleine a pat on the shoulder with a nod as he moved past him. He needed to fix Madeleine’s quite pitiful fire and begin cooking, he also needed to get away from Madeleine before he noticed just how flustered Dark Choco was getting.

After gathering some more wood to fuel Madeleine’s quite pitiful fire Dark Choco skewered and began cooking. Madeleine, of course, quickly started talking his ear off. He talked about anything and everything, what he dreamed of, how he slept, where to adventure to next, a grand story about himself, the weather, his family, so on so forth, and Dark Choco listened to every word. Perhaps he could take Madeleine to the Hollyberry kingdom next. He used to go there with his father when he was young, and from the little he remembered it was warm and bustling. Perfect for Madeleine. His mind began to wander once more. The Hollyberry kingdom is also quite known for its romance. The kingdom and many beautiful spots and plenty of dances for lovers to attend. He thought about how Madeleine would look in a nice tailored suit. He had only seen him in thick coats and layers, the picture of him in something more proper and fancy with his hair all done up made his cheeks begin to burn again. His thoughts continued as he imagined them dancing together in a ballroom, they’d be so close that he could count the faint freckles across Madeleine’s face, and he’d hold his hand as they danced. Dark Chocos was suddenly snapped out of his fantasies by madeleine calling his name.

“Hey! Dark Chocooo?”

He was suddenly aware of how hot his face felt.

“Ah-.. yes?”

“Are you alright? You looked out of it and your face is red.”

Madeleine looked concerned and Dark Choco was horribly embarrassed.

“… I’m fine. Forgive me.”

He shouldn’t be thinking about Madeleine like that anyway. They are friends and nothing more. Why would he imagine such a scenario in the first place? Despite Dark Chocos (admittedly poor) reassurance, Madeleine still looked concerned with his eyebrows knitted together.

“If something is troubling you, you can tell me!”

He put a hand on his chest as he spoke. He did that quite often, Dark Choco had noticed. It was a kind of cute quirk.

“.. Thank you, but I am fine..”

Dark Choco gave him a small smile to try and reassure him. Though Madeleine still seemed a bit suspicious, he dropped it. Dark Choco must have zoned out longer than he realized because the food was now fully cooked.

As they ate Dark Choco did his best to keep his thoughts in line as he listened to Madeleine blabber. Dark Choco gave scattered responses here and there but ultimately Madeleine was the one holding up most of the conversation, but that was fine. He liked listening to him talk, even if it was about nothing. Dinner went quick with the help of mindless chatter. Madeleine leaned back, stretching out his arms above his head.

“I think I’m going to go to bed early tonight.”

As he got up to head to his tent Dark Choco impulsively called out to him.

“Wait..! Uh.. If you want-…”

He bit his tongue and cursed himself for acting out again, Madeleine was going to be the death of him. He debated continuing, but he had already said too much and the confused look from Madeleine made him feel bad.

“Uhm.. If you are still cold… you could sleep with me in my tent tonight… It is more built for colder weather than yours is.. I assume..”

He felt more and more embarrassed as he forced himself to speak but a soft smile from Madeleine eased his nerves.

“I’d appreciate that.”

His voice was calm and quiet, it wasn’t often he heard Madeleine speak without his boisterous persona. Dark Choco savored it.

“… You can get yourself situated. I’m going to put out the fire.. then I’ll join you..”

Madeleine nodded and went to gather his things from his tent. Dark Choco did his best to quickly put out the fire, he’s never been more excited for bed. As he finished snuffing out the last bit of flames all he could think about was Madeleine waiting for him in his tent. It felt like an eternity until all the embers were out, but he was finally finished. Anxiously, he unzipped the tent and entered.

Madeleine sat on top of a small futon, slightly turned away from the opening of the tent brushing out his hair. Dark Choco hadn’t really seen all of Madeleines hair, as it was usually tucked into his coat to keep it from blowing everywhere. It was shockingly long, spilling out onto the floor all around him. It was pretty. Dark Choco watched silently as a the brush easily guided through long straight hair. Both sides of his bangs were out and perfectly framed his face, stopping right above his cheek bones. He seemed to be in his own world, with his eyes closed as he methodically brushed through his hair. The light cream color of his hair had a soft orange glow to it from a small lantern set by their sleeping bags. The dim light also hit his face perfectly, highlighting his long lashes. Dark Choco felt his heart beat quicken at how breathtaking he was. Eventually Dark Choco found his voice.

“Are you comfortable?”

Madeleine peaked over at him and smiled.

“Yes! You were right, it’s certainly less cold in here!”

Dark Choco couldn’t help but smile back, happy that he was comfortable.

In the corner of the tent was his borrowed cloak, along side Madeleine’s heavier layers. They were all folded up neatly next to eachother. Dark Choco followed suit and began removing his extra layers as well, setting them by the other clothes before sitting on his futon by Madeleine. It almost felt domestic, their clothes neatly laid next to each other as they sat together getting ready for bed. It was nice, it was comfortable. Dark Choco covered himself with his blanket and layed back onto his bed, closing his eyes and folding his hands over his stomach as he listened to the sound of Madeleine brushing his hair. He felt relaxed and he basked in it, he could probably fall asleep right then. After a while of brushing and the occasional hum from Madeleine he could hear shuffling as he got under his covers and clicked the lantern off. Dark Choco was began to doze off but the sudden sound of shuffling from Madeleine twisting and turning in his bed alerted him back awake. This became a cycle, almost asleep, woken up by shuffling, quiet, almost asleep, shuffling. He wasn’t sure how long this lasted but it was becoming bothersome.

“Madeleine.”

The movement abruptly stopped.

“…Dark Choco…”

“What are you doing..?”

There was a pause, Madeleine was a bit embarrassed from being called out.

“…Forgive me, but even though your tent is better than mine it is still quite cold and it’s making it a bit hard to fall asleep.”

Dark Choco hesitated for a moment, biting his cheek as he thought. Finally, he built up the courage and lifted his blanket up as an invitation.

“…Come lay with me then.. sharing body heat is good for keeping warm…”

He held his breath as a he nervously waited for a reply. Madeleine said nothing as he slowly got up and crawled under Dark Choco’s covers. Madeleine quickly made himself comfortable, laying his head against Dark Choco’s chest and wrapping his arm around his middle. A sigh of relief came from Dark Choco as he covered them up with the blanket and circled an arm around Madeleine. His heart felt its burst out of his chest. Madeleine could probably hear it thumping in his chest too, which was maybe a little embarrassing but he was far too happy to care. This was all he wanted for so long, just to be able to hold him and be close, and he finally had it. He squeezed Madeleine a little, earning him a quiet chuckle. Dark Choco could melt.

“Let’s start traveling somewhere different. I’m sick of this frozen hellscape.”

Dark Choco laughed as Madeleine complained.

“…How about the Hollyberry kingdom?”

Madeleine thought for a moment.

“That sounds nice.”

[loucifersbitch]

listen. about lou's scars. i'm insane about them actually and i'm so sorry and yeah i know firefighting is a job that gets you scars for sure but i'm thinking about. tommy as a chef. with hands and arms scarred from cuts and burns and buck being insane about that.

if this is bc i have the worst crush on the head chef at my work who's like twice my age, could be my dad, has no concept of personal space when teaching and is slowly killing me. then what. his arms are so scarred and it's so hot

well, anon, you did it. you inspired a head chef!tommy fic from me, so congratulations 😂 it's almost 3000 words and I haven't even gotten to the arm scars yet, but I'll get there

I was tagged by @smallandalmosthonest 💚💚

“Evan?” Tommy says quietly. Evan startles anyway, nearly dropping the stock pot he was about to place on the shelf. He seems to steel himself, and Tommy doesn’t like that at all. When he turns around, his eyes are red-rimmed. Tommy hadn’t gotten close enough earlier to be able to see, but now it’s obvious. “Yes, Chef?” Evan asks, his voice thick with whatever has him so upset. He’s also staring at a spot over Tommy’s shoulder, not making eye contact. Tommy crosses the kitchen in a few long strides and takes the pot from him, quickly putting it on the shelf before turning back. “I’m not going to ask if you’re okay,” Tommy starts, “because clearly you’re not. But can you tell me what happened?” Evan looks down, still refusing to look Tommy in the eye. “Nothing, Chef. Just didn’t get much sleep, that’s all,” he mumbles, shoving his hands into his pockets and making himself look small. Evan is anything but small, both in the physical sense and certainly in personality. Tommy’s heart breaks a little at the sight.  “Evan,” he says gently. And that’s when Evan crumbles. Tommy steps forward, catching him easily and holding him upright. Evan grabs at his shoulders, his biceps, his chest, before snaking his arms under Tommy’s, grabbing handfuls of the back of his chef’s coat and holding on for dear life.

no pressure tagging @monsterrae1 @powersuitup @loveyouanyway @rogerzsteven @honestlydarkprincess

[thesturniolos]

warning signs

chris sturniolo | angst 😛

| triggers: alcohol, swearing

| long distance makes couples crumble much opposed to the closeness it apparently brings.

| tags: @strniohoeee @sturniolopepsi @estelleswrld @recklesssturniolo @realmoonee @thesturniolos @malsturns @mattslolita @mattsgirlforeva @malusokay @cabincorematt @caitifilms @celestialhacker @chrisolivia4l @sturnsclutter @sturnphilia @sturniolostuff @sturniololoverr @plasticferal @pr1ncessm1ng1 @ilovemattsturn @aesthetxcimagines @dailysturniolo @deatthmatch @justangelheree

“does it ever occur to you that-“

“don’t say it.” i pull my hand up to shade his face from my vision. although he’s my best friend, i can’t begin to talk about it. i swig the bottle and shake my head as i feel the burn fall down my throat.

he runs a hand through his hair and throws his body back onto my bed.

i look down at him to see a weak smile. it’s a smile of sympathy. sympathy that i don’t want or need to have.

“we’re fine.” i say but underneath my sharp tone there’s a slight wobble of concern. because it’s not how it was.

i look down at my phone and it flashes with a notification but i’m distracted by the wallpaper behind it.

it’s a picture of me and chris by the beach. he’s picking me up from the sand and swinging me round while we both laugh. it was the best day of my life. it was the day he asked me to be his, the day he promised me we’d be together forever.

well i believed that. after all, we’d been together for most of our life anyways - thanks to our mums being best friends since they were little, we were kinda destined to be inseparable too.

that was until he went to LA after his youtube career skyrocketed. i had never been happier for him and his brothers, knowing they were doing exactly what they’d dreamed of since we were children.

but what comes with a demanding industry like there’s is crazy fans and all around the clock non-stop entertainment.

our time together lessened and lessened as he signed up for interviews and tours and met more and more fans.

it didn’t bother me because i saw how happy he was to have been given that opportunity and seeing his smile was worth it all.

but it’s when i couldn’t see that grin anymore is when i found myself slipping into a place of darkness, like the curtains had been drawn on me.

i didn’t feel like a girlfriend anymore, i felt like a shadow. like a burden even.

even before they left for the big LA, he seemed to have become irritated by my presence, he started to go to bed early and i only saw him for about fifteen minutes when i got up and ten minutes when i got home before he found something else to do.

matt and nick saw this happening and tried to include me into their videos and podcasts but chris made it clear that i wasn’t allowed claiming the fans wouldn’t like it.

but what if i didn’t like it? did that even matter?

so now i find myself nearly 3000 miles away looking down at the bright light in my hand, wishing he was next to me and that it was like old times.

except he hadn’t texted me in a week and he’s been gone six months. that’s nearly 200 days without seeing him.

to think last year i couldn’t have gone 24 hours without a hug from him to now holding a teddy in my arms wishing it were chris.

i felt embarrassed to sit here and still think naively think we were still even a thing. because what’s a relationship without words?

i understand long distance is hard but nobody said it would do this to us, we were supposed to be forever.

i often think about the day at the beach, i wish it never happened. then i wouldn’t feel broken now.

“i really think you ought to call him.” says nate.

nate had been the triplets’ best friend too. he just like me was dropped but he still remained close with the likes of matt and nick.

“but it’s always me calling and it’s always me texting. how long do i have to fucking wait until he does that for me, nate? because quite frankly i’m fed up with being the only one who cares around here.”

there was silence for a bit and i could feel him staring at me.

a tear falls down my cheek and i let it fall onto my leg.

“i miss him so much, nate. why doesn’t he want me anymore?”

“i don’t know.” he hugs me in close and rubs my arm.

the truth is, this is the first hug i’ve had for six months.

“y/n?” the door opens and i’m face to face with the one person i need most.

“chris?”

[phantom-of-the-501st]

Thoughts on the Batch's Ending

Ooookay. This is going to be a long one. (Little note from Steph who just finished writing this: it’s nearly 3000 words…)

Tagging @saturn-sends-hugs @inkstainedhandswithrings and @eriexplosion because I value their thoughts (but I'm also not demanding that you read 3000 words of waffle)

I’ve had a lot of thoughts about the finale of The Bad Batch and honestly, my mind is a bit of a mess right now. One of the things I just want to try and tackle is how I feel about the ending of each Batch member individually, because while I can look at it and say “The Batch got a happy ending!”, I feel like that doesn’t really give me much of an idea of whether or not each character got an ending that I feel is fitting for their story arc.

So, this post is basically just going to be me unpicking the ending for each of the Batchers and working out how I feel about it (aka me trying to unscramble the mass load of thoughts going on in my head right now). 

Omega

Overall, I’m very happy with where Omega ended up. When you look back on how she was when we first met her, you realise just how much she has grown over the last few seasons. She didn’t just learn to be a part of the squad, she also learned how to look after herself. It isn’t just a development of her skillset, it’s also a growth in maturity, which allows her to have a clearer head and more rational decisions in the field. While Omega trusted her brothers to come and rescue her, she didn’t just sit around and wait for them, she hatched her own plan to not only get her and the other children out, but also help the Batch when they arrive at Tantiss.

Like Echo, she strongly believes in helping people and I love that that has carried through into her ending. While it would have been nice for her to live a quiet life, free of any more troubles, it makes complete sense for her to want to join the Rebellion. And I think it was at a good time as well. Omega got to spend the rest of her childhood being raised in a more peaceful, safe environment, before making the decision a few years down the line to go her own way. This is her leaving the nest and I think it was tackled incredibly well. You can see how she has taken on attributes from all of her brothers, and judging by her style choice, Phee as well. We see Omega using the support of her brothers to carve her own path and I love that.

Personally, I can’t really see a more fitting development in her story than this. And I’m reluctant to actually call it an ending because for her, this feels more like the beginning of a new chapter. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if we saw her again later down the road.

Hunter

Now those who follow me may be aware that Hunter was never my favourite member of the Batch. I didn’t dislike him, but I never really connected with him in the same way that I connected with all of the other characters. Saying that, it doesn’t mean I haven’t given a lot of thought to him and his character.

Hunter always had a lot on his shoulders. He was the leader of the Batch and that meant keeping a rag-tag group of defective clones in line, but it also left him with the belief that if anything were to happen to his squad, it would be his responsibility. So, with Crosshair and Omega stuck with the Empire, and Tech dead, Hunter had a lot to carry. At the beginning of Season 3 we saw that he had become more reckless and irrational, not really thinking about plans and wanting to jump straight into things. It was Wrecker who had to step in and make sure Hunter didn’t do anything stupid. Hunter felt like he lost control and that took a lot out of him, especially since this is something I think he could feel creeping up on him throughout Season 2, even if he tried to fight it. The Batch had started to make decisions without him, and Omega was forming close attachments to other people, which was digging a knife into Hunter’s fear of losing his squad. So S3 saw him trying everything he could to reunite the Batch, because he couldn’t bear to lose anyone else.

And he achieved that. But what I also deeply appreciate is that we see Hunter accepting that Omega wants to go her own way. This was something he didn’t want happening for a long time, but once he accepted that she was capable of looking after herself, and once he accepted that he could never keep her tied in place forever, he supported Omega in her decision to join the Rebellion. Yes, he will always worry about her. He even tells her that she will always be their kid. But he knows that it’s time for her to carve her own path, and that means for him, finally letting go and accepting that Clone Force 99 will never be what it once was. 

Wrecker

Wrecker is an interesting one for me because he’s one of the few characters where I can’t really see a big step for his character in the final episode. For many of the others there is some form of acceptance, or big step in their lives, but for Wrecker I don’t really see that. And unfortunately, I think that comes from Wrecker never really being the focus of any strong character development throughout the history of the show. That’s not to say there wasn’t any growth at all, but when we look at how far everyone else has come in their stories, Wrecker always feels like he never got the same treatment in this show. The biggest growth I saw was when he stepped in to help Hunter when he could see the sergeant was spiralling.

So, while I’m happy he lived and has gone on to enjoy a longer, more peaceful life than we ever expected for the Batch, it makes me sad that we never really saw anything big for Wrecker in this ending. No big acceptance, no huge sacrifice. We don’t even get to see him say goodbye to Omega when she leaves. I love that Wrecker got a happy ending, but I always wish that we had gotten the opportunity to see more of a character arc with him over the course of the entire show.

Crosshair

I accepted a while ago that if any of the Batch members were to survive, Crosshair would be one of them because I didn’t expect the writers to kill him off after everything that he had been through. And thankfully they didn’t! I love that after everything, Crosshair has managed to find peace. Maybe not completely, but enough that he has the chance to live a life that doesn’t involve him being a soldier. 

Throughout S2 and S3 we saw Crosshair come to terms with the fact that he was disposable to the Empire and that they didn’t care about him as much as he had made himself believe. And one of the things Crosshair fought with the most was his own identity as a soldier. For so long, he believed that that was all he was, all he could be, so that’s why it has been so amazing finally seeing Crosshair acknowledge that he doesn’t need to be a soldier to still live a life he deserves; his purpose is and always has been more than that.

Saying that, I want to address the hand thing because I am still unsure of where I sit with it. Following his escape from Tantiss, we see Crosshair has developed hand tremors as a result of his PTSD, and a decent chunk of the season has been dedicated to him learning how to live with them. The biggest reason for this affecting Crosshair so much was that it impacted his ability to be a sniper, which is what Crosshair believed to be his main purpose: he didn’t know what to do without the ability to use his hand. And we were given some incredibly sweet scenes between him and Omega as she helped him work out the best way to manage the tremors, for example, them meditating together.

But then that brings me onto my main issue, which is, why remove the hand? One of the reasons I keep seeing is that it removes Crosshair’s ability to be a sniper, but we had already seen that. That’s the issue that the tremors were causing. Crosshair had already been struggling with that ability as a result of what happened to him on Tantiss, so cutting his hand off as a way of preventing his sniping ability seems a bit unnecessary. Now admittedly, the soldier who cut his hand off didn’t know that he had hand tremors, so logistically it makes sense, but as a story tool it seems a bit bizarre to me. Personally, I think it would’ve been more interesting to pursue the idea of Crosshair learning to manage his tremors through meditation etc. and adapting to a life that has less of a focus on sniping. 

Another reason I have seen for the hand is that it symbolises Crosshair finally becoming free from the Empire and what they did to him on Tantiss. Him no longer having the tremors indicates that he is no longer burdened by the Empire and his time there. But that doesn’t really work for me either. For one, Crosshair will never truly be separated from what happened to him there; even if he lost the shaking, he would still have a number of psychological issues as a result of what he went though, so I can’t see it as a way of symbolising a true separation. Which is once again why I think that following the story beat of him managing the tremors would have been a more interesting path for them to go down with his character.

Saying that, I’m still happy with where Crosshair’s story went. He is arguably the most complex character in the Batch and I’m so glad we have been able to see him develop the way he has. Him living a long, quiet life is something that I’m happy he has gotten, and I truly don’t think that him dying would have brought nearly as satisfying a conclusion as Crosshair finally finding a new place in the world.

Tech

Oh boy… this is going to be an interesting chunk of this essay. So errm… it turns out Tech is actually dead, which is… kinda shit. 

Back when we saw him fall at the end of S2, I said that one of the reasons that I didn’t believe that Tech was really dead was because if he was, I would’ve found the writing kinda cheap. I said repeatedly throughout that season that I didn’t want all of his character development to simply be an emotional manipulation tactic to make us even more sad when he died… which is what it turned out to be. It doesn’t surprise me that Tech sacrificed himself, but it makes me mad that ultimately his death never really had any real impact on anything. I mean, they hardly even addressed it in the final season!

I get that animated Star Wars is known for rarely addressing characters after their deaths, but The Clone Wars focuses on so many characters that if we gave that much attention to every character that died, then we would never progress the plot. However, unlike TCW, The Bad Batch primarily focuses on a smaller group of clones and therefore not only has the space to explore the impacts that death would have on the squad, but really should find it a necessary part of the storytelling. The lack of attention given to Tech throughout this season has been beyond frustrating to me. He deserved better.

And I can’t write a section about Tech’s ending without addressing the CX-2 situation. Were we all delusional for believing that Tech was alive? No. Now before people come at me for saying that, I want to explain why that is the conclusion I have come to. You would have every right to label us delusional if there was absolutely no proof behind the claims that we made, but when the writers give us a character that both speaks and acts like Tech, what did they expect us to think? There were too many parallels between Tech and CX-2 for it to be coincidental and I still stand by the fact that we had reason to believe that they were the same person.

Now, looking at the other CX soldiers we see in the finale, they all seem to parallel the OG members of the Batch: there’s a larger one who primarily focuses on hand-to-hand combat, someone who favours blades, a sniper, and a more tech-savvy one. And I’m sure there is a reason for that, symbolically or practically, but if the fact that they all resemble the Batch is important, then why was so much focus put primarily on CX-2? There was no way we weren’t going to think that they would reveal him to be Tech.

Overall, I’m annoyed. Tech was such a brilliant character and I am so frustrated that not only did he get a death that I felt was kind of cheap, but he didn’t get nearly the respect he should have been given in the final season. Now, I’m not using this as a way to bash the writers, and I definitely don’t think that anyone should use it as an excuse to be bullies, but unfortunately, I can’t be satisfied with the way Tech’s story ended, and I’m not sure I ever will.

Echo

Last but certainly not least, Echo. To say that Echo means a lot to me is an understatement, and I was genuinely terrified that I might have to say goodbye to one of my comfort characters. But thankfully, our boy made it!

Following Season 1, we all wanted for Echo to get some more development. It never felt like he had truly been used to his full potential. And thankfully, Season 2 began to give us that. Yes, we ended up saying goodbye to Echo for half a season, but we saw some incredible growth in his character, and him choosing to join the rebellion made too much sense not to happen. Unfortunately, this also meant that we didn’t get to see Echo for the majority of the final season, but I am beyond grateful that what they gave us in these last few episodes has been some of the best Echo content that we have ever seen. Watching him grow and find where he belongs has been a pleasure to watch, He really is an ARC trooper through and through. Particularly in these last few episodes, seeing how much he has grown to be like Fives, and watching him carry on his brother’s legacy, has been so incredible, No matter what anyone says, I believe that he truly is one of the greatest, and most important characters that we’ve ever gotten out of animated Star Wars.

However, I do have one gripe with Echo’s ending, and it’s the fact that it doesn’t actually feel like a conclusion. If anything, I have more questions about Echo now than I did before the last episode. Echo going to the Rebellion is an absolute given; he still has stuff to help Rex with. But the fact that there is absolutely no mention of him in the epilogue has just made me wonder where he is. Omega mentions Crosshair and Wrecker, and we only see Hunter, so we know that Echo isn’t with them. But we also know that at that point in the story, Echo also isn’t with Rex (assuming we’re in Rebels era). So where is he? What is he doing? Is he actually dead at that point??? I really hope we see more of Echo in the future because if this really is the last time we see his character, it’s too open ended for me to really be satisfied with it.

But if I’m being honest, I really don’t think that this is the last time that we are going to see him. And especially with Omega joining the Rebellion, I wouldn’t be surprised if we saw another clone-centric show following these characters in the future.

Concluding Thoughts

All in all, my thoughts are still a bit jumbled. I still don’t know how I truly feel about everything, but hopefully this post at least gives some insight into how I think each character’s endings were handled. Will I change my mind at some point? Probably. But for now, this is where I stand.

At its core, I think the ending we got makes sense for a lot of the characters, and I’m glad that they didn’t all just die at the end. Sure, there are choices that I’m not happy with, but seeing that some of the Batch go on to live long lives is something that I’m very happy to see. It doesn’t happen enough in animated SW, so I’m glad we got to experience it.

[violetsiren90]

New Rules | Teaser

Table of Cotents: Teaser (Prologue); Don't pick up the phone; Don't let him in

Pairing: f*ck boi!Jisung x f!Reader

Genre: choose your own adventure; drabble/vignette series; angst and smut; f*ck buddies; college/post grad

Summary: Jisung has had you wrapped around his finger for the last half-decade. You know good and well that it's time to move on…but you can never seem to follow your own rules long enough to shake him.

*Based on the lyrics of "New Rules" by Dua Lipa

Content warnings: 18+ (minors, dni) Explicit smut; toxic relationship; Jisung is a manipulative little shit (There will be specific trigger warning for each update); For prologue: undressing, kissing, necking, dry humping, groping, fondling, Jisung has been drinking; lots of negative emotions and psychological conflict, raw LUST.

Word Count: Each drabble will probably around 1500-3000 words; total number of drabbles undetermined.

Author's Note: This is gonna be my fun little side project while I work on a my heavy chapter fic! Another one of my attempts at trying new things this year - a choose your own adventure centering around toxic romance. 😈💔🥀 Each update will have a poll at the end which will determine where the next drabble goes. The readers will literally be deciding the trajectory of this story! If you would like to participate throughout the series, let me know in the comments and I will add you to the tag list for updates!

As always, if no one has told you today, please know that you're loved, and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

Prologue:

(first poll below)

His hand finds the tack fastener on the front your jeans, and as he slips it deftly through the buttonhole with his finger and his thumb you feel a familiar chill creep into your chest. One little motion and it’s as if he snuffs out an invisible flame inside of you. And yet, you want them there, his fingers on the wick.

Tasting the liquor on his tongue, you pull away to press your lips below his jaw and against the thrum of his pulse point. You can feel from the force and urgency of his nimble hands as they skirt and grasp your form after peeling away your pants that it’s going to be quick and dirty. It always is, every time you cross the blurred boundaries of your friendship into the realm of carnal pleasure.

It never starts that way, though.

It starts with fingers gently lacing through your own, large pleading eyes full of innocence that dip to your lips and kindle darkly with lust…and then a kiss; one you’ve nearly starved for craving. That’s always how it starts.

But then, eventually and inevitably, you feel it - the sudden shift. The moment he drops the pretense with a simple word or touch that falls like an executioner's axe over the feeble hope that you so relentlessly resurrect.

He lets out a soft little whimper, tilting his head back to bare more of the skin of his throat, and just as quickly as the first flame extinguished, another licks through your viens. You scrape your teeth over his smooth, taut flesh and you feel him tremble beneath you. If just for a few moments, drenched in the scent of cheap booze and the pallid lens of moonlight, he’s yours for the taking.

And you want him, but fuck him. You hate him for pretending to care about you every single time when all he cares about is how you can make him feel. You hate yourself for how you let it consume your flesh and seep into your soul - the feeling that you are the only one who can bring him to that place between the planes of reality in which he finds deliverance through your body.

You pin his shoulders back against the headboard roughly, lascivious eyes drinking in his expression as it contorts with the intensity of his gratification at the plush, rhythmic pressure of your mound over the knot in his jeans. Thin cotton and rough denim massaging one another and at the friction growing damp.

A dance that you've memorized.

Another piece of your being chips away, as it does each time you relent to the greed of his hands and mouth, and a shiver slithers down your spine as his beautiful fingers slip up your shirt to grope at your breast.

When was the last time you felt truly whole? When, outside of the minutes of breathless darkness when he fills you?

~To be continued~

[nahoney22]

Idk if im allowed to ask for another request for the 3000 celebration but your writing is just so good that I can't help myself. Feel free to ignore if you're getting too flooded with requests lol but would I be able to get "tease me until I can't take it anymore" and "I just want to be used by you tonight. Van I be your personal toy?" Smut with F!Reader and sub!crosshair. Keep up the amazing work

3000 Prompt List Celebration

Crosshair X F!Reader

word count: 1k

NSFW

prompts:

“Tease me until I can’t take it no more.”

“I just want to be used by you tonight, can I be your personal toy?”

warnings: NSFW, 18+ only. Explicit sexual content and language. Sub!crosshair, light dom!female reader. Established relationship, dry humping/grinding, blowjob, teasing, cum denial, praise, pet names, smut without plot (kinda). NSFW under the cut. Not proofread, a little rushed ngl.

Authors note: of course you can ask for another request! I’m just sorry it’s taken like 5 years and it’s not the best. 🩵 @thrawns-babygirl

“I just want to be used by you tonight, can I be your personal toy?”

You stared up at your lover, eyes a little wide and completely stunned at what he just asked. For the last day he had been acting… different. His demeanor had shifted over the past few hours, growing more tense than usual. You had noticed him struggling to articulate something, his words hovering on the tip of his tongue.

But as he looms over you, trained eyes piercingly sharp as they gaze down at you, the question just slipped past his lips. “You want me to use you?” You repeat, quite sure you had heard him correctly but there’s nothing wrong with double checking.

You sense his resolve, his shoulders squaring and eyes finding it hard to stay on yours so with a smirk, you place one hand to his shoulder and push him off you, maneuvering deftly so you were straddling him instead. “Answer me.” You demanded, a fiery desire coursing through you as it appeared Crosshair was yielding control of the situation.

“Yes.” He rasps with a gulp, his eyes a little wide as your confidence shines through straight away. Have you wanted to dominate him as much as he wanted to be submissive to you? He’s sat up, watching you as you begin to tease him with a subtle roll of your hips against his lap, heart hammering in his chest.

He doesn’t particularly know where this sudden desire came from but he wanted a change of pace - he wanted you to take control.

“Now this is an interesting turn of events, Crosshair,” you chime pleasantly, “and not something I’m not going to pass up.”

He remains tight-lipped as you pull your top over your head, tits bouncing free from its confines and you try hard not to blush to the sound of his quiet moan as a result. He almost fails being a sub in a split second, as he so very nearly latched his lips to your stiffening nipples but you were quick to deflect him.

Pressing your hands to his chest, pushing him back until his back hits the mattress you gave him an incredulous look. “Did I say you could kiss my breasts?”

He sighs and shakes his head. “No.”

“No, what?”

He pauses for a second, a deep exhale parting his lips as his cock twitches in his pants at your dominance and how you clearly wanted to be addressed differently. “No… ma’am.”

“Good boy.” You smirk, adding more pressure to his crotch that sends him crazy. You moan yourself a little, the feeling of the thickness of his cock in his pants against your pussy felt so good. In fact, it isn’t long until you are standing, pulling your pants off (too slow for crosshairs liking) until you take yet another seat on his lap and feeling the friction even more. “I can’t wait for you to be inside me, darling.”

Crosshair huffs in response but the lust in his eyes showed everything you needed to know. When you slide his pants off, you sit back and admire how his cock twitches just under your gaze. “Aw, do you need your cock touching?”

The stoic man’s hands clench the sheets beneath him, in torture how you were dragging this out but it is what he wanted after all. “Just,” he whines unable to finish his sentence as his cock already oozes just by the sight of you

“Just, what?”

“Tease me. Tease me until I can’t take it any more.”

His words surprise you once more but the sex crazed smile on your face had you shifting between his legs, fingers gently caressing over his bare thighs. “As you wish.”

Slowly, tortuously slowly, you placed your tongue flat against the inside of his thigh and moved up along his proudly standing erection.

The flat of your tongue slid along his cock as your lips slowly enveloped the head. Crosshairs long lashes fluttered, dark, lust filled eyes finding your gaze.

Your boyfriend whined as he felt his tip touch the back of your warm throat. You moaned at the taste of him, slurping and spitting on his cock just how you wanted to.

His hips start to jut, his heavy breaths becoming ragged as your name slips beautifully past his lips. You know him, you know when he’s about to hit his high and as soon as he gets to his peak, goes curling and moans strangled in his throat, you pull back.

“W-What? Why… babe?” He gasps at the lack of orgasm, by now he would be painting your pretty face with his cum but alas, your face remains clean and smug.

“You’re my toy, remember? You only get to finish when I’m done with you, silly.”

He is watching you with wide, blown eyes as you begin to crawl over the top of him, breasts sliding against his throbbing cock until you maneuver on top of him, your pussy just inches away from his head that was almost begging to be touched by your wet lips.

“You look so good; wanting and needy.”

“You’re fucking incredible.” He breathes, nothing but love on his face and you smirk as you sink onto his length, eliciting the most guttural groan he had ever released.

“Mmm, maker… so, s-so warm.” He rests up on his elbows, hips naturally thrusting up into you but as you tut at him and push against his lower abdomen to halt him.

“No moving.” You commanded and he let out the sweetest whimper of pleasure.

“Please, I need to fuck you so hard.” He sighs, pushing past the firm hold you had as he begged for his needs that you weren’t so willing to give just yet.

“No. Moving.” You repeat, forcing his hips back down as you begin to delicately grind your hips and down against him, his cock stretching you so well that a small curse passes your lips.

“You wanted to be teased, Crosshair,” you rasp, your index finger trailing up his chest that heaved under your touch, caressing up his neck until you grab his chin between your fingers, leaning over his lips, “so this is going to be a long evening for you.”

Masterlist

Tags @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @oohyesplease @theroguesully @mustluvecho @ladykatakuri i @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @kixs-husband @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix @imalovernotahater @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @photogirl894 @fantasyproductions

[anika-ann]

Hot Boy Summer (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, standalone or part of Love on the Brain series

Pairining: Steve Rogers x reader    Word count: 3000

Summary: Your boyfriend is all hot in every season, but there’s just something about summer Steve messing around in a pool that makes your heart melt and your bikini wet before you even step into water. And really, the hottest outfit your man can wear is happiness – or nothing at all.

Or, the one in which you (Agent Jones) are spending the afternoon chilling by Avenger's private swimming pool - and ogle your supersoldier boyfriend.

Warnings: allusions to smut so 18+ and NSFW, Steve in a swimsuit, happy Steve (he’s radiant, he’s a warning), language

A/N: reader is called “Agent Jones”, works for the Avengers Initiative; divider by firefly-graphics 😍

 The sunrays were sharp as they reflected of the water surface, but you pushed your sunglasses up anyway, waning to fully appreciate your view.

Because what an excellent view it was.

It wasn’t that you were lounging nearly on the top of New York – almost on the top of the Avengers Tower – and should you peer behind the glass railings, reaching all up to your shoulders to block the wind, you’d have the city laid in front of you. It wasn’t even that while you’d take in this no doubt magnificent view, you could dip your toes in a pool, because that was how extravagant Tony Stark had been when rebuilding this place – a pool almost n the roof. No. You enjoyed something much more special than that.

Half-lying on the luxurious beach chair by the Avengers’ private pool at the eightieth floor, you had a still open book placed on your chest pages down, long forgotten in favour of a much more enticing activity than reading – or admiring the New York skyline or swimming, for that matter. Long minutes passed since Steve had arrived, kissed your forehead, offered a brief view of his rear in the navy-blue swim trunks and dived head-first into water. And yet, you were still watching him, mesmerized by your handsome man all the same.

He had barely come out for air since jumping into water, but there were other things to admire than his angelic face; the entirety of his body, moving in the water so gracefully it seemed he found himself more at ease there than with his feet firmly on the ground. You couldn’t tear your eyes away. Maybe you were even drooling a little bit. But which male-attracted person wouldn’t? All that filled your field of vision appeared to be designed only to seduce you.

The extremely well-defined lines of the muscles on Steve’s back dancing under his skin with every powerful stretch and flex, glistening whenever he broke the water surface; his bulging arms, his shoulders so marvellously wide, making you wish to revisit your yesterday’s mission to retrace with your lips every droplet of water cascading over them while you had showered together; a peek of his firm bottom, the trunks sticking to it perfectly and calling out to you to grab it and maybe get a bite of it.

The thing was, even if you’d have left behind all those sinful thoughts, he would be still be a sight to behold; an image of alluring strength and beauty. His hair flowing around his head like a halo, the length and wide planes of his body controlled with such skill, skin of his shoulders and biceps in particular peppered with soft constellations of freckles, kisses from the sunrays or angels themselves, always turning so prominent during summer months. You had always longed to brush your fingertips over them, count them with your lips, even back when you and Steve nothing more but friends; the fact you were allowed to do that now, earning a soft laugh and a pair of twinkling eyes watching you tenderly when you did, brought a smile to your face.

The image Steve made now was certainly a better look than the imitation of lobster he had become when he had forgone sunscreen the other afternoon when Tony had attempted to throw a small Avengers pool party. The party itself, of course, wasn’t the problem; it was the fact you had been running late to it for the most delicious of reasons. You had got distracted when Steve had so lovingly massaged the cream into your skin – and consequently, you never got to do him. Not the sunscreen part anyway. While sunkissed was a gorgeous look on him, sunburned less so. Then again, that serum-fuelled cheater had woken up fresh-faced like the day he had been born and had got a very light tan two days later, his freckles making their yearly reappearance.

Now, droplets wandered between them as he finally reemerged for longer than a second, shaking off water of his hair before he faced you with a grin. You supressed the dreamy school-girl like sigh as to hold onto the last remnants of your dignity. He was a sight worthy of gods as he folded his arms on the edge of the pool, legs idly dangling behind; but it was you, a mere mortal, blessed enough to ogle him without having to feel like a creep.

“Show off,” you accused him teasingly, not bothering to comment further on his Olympics-worthy performance even if the pool was far from the typical race-sized one.

“If you didn’t look at me like that when I’m showing off, I wouldn’t.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault now?” you inquired in challenge, barely resisting losing yourself in the light his carefree grin was radiating.

Steve was nothing short of breathtaking like this, perfectly relaxed – happy, comfortable, confident. A few days off here and there worked true wonders for him. And maybe, maybe you’d like to think that so did you.

He simply shrugged. “Dat’s what I said, Agent Jones.”

You pursed your lips, chest humming with contentment and excitement. So, it was going to be like this today, huh?

“Oh? How am I even looking at you?” you questioned, mocking offence. “And pray to tell me, Captain Rogers, how would you even know? Did the serum give you some sort of abilities enabling to you watch me while you’re under water? Have you been hiding that you are, in fact, some kind of a telepath?”

The slow devilish smile spreading on Steve’s lips had your heart stumble before it began to race. “Neither. I could simply tell you like what you see every time I came out for air because of my enhanced sense of smell.”

You felt your features twist into a confused frown for you got lost in the game he had started. Sense of smell?

Steve tilted his head to side, clearly amused by your ignorance. His gaze, deliberately slow, travelled from where he had been looking directly into your eyes down your body, over the swell of your breasts hidden by the still open book, over your stomach, down your le—

You sputtered an incomprehensible curse, dropping your useless book into your lap as if to hide your sudden shame – or perhaps the evidence which you hoped wasn’t visible. Despite having been sunbathing for almost an hour, it was now that your face was set completely aflame.

“That’s not--- that’s-” totally true, in fact “-you’re just making shit up. And that is a highly inappropriate remark, Captain Rogers,” you accused him, embarrassed by the squeaky quality your voice suddenly acquired.

“Not if it’s true. And I know it is,” he said matter-of-factly, his smirk growing. “What can I say, I’m very perceptive of the scents I like.”

“Shut up, Rogers.”

Steve just grinned wider, oozing satisfaction at not only having caught you, but also being the source of a little pool of slick in your bikini bottoms. The nerve on him! You were--- there was nothing to be ashamed of! He knew that and you knew that, but here you were, sputtering nonsense under your breath, flustered by your insanely attractive boyfriend calling you out on the fact you were aroused by the sight of him displaying his god-like body built of extremely well-toned muscles in action. So what?! You were only human! And one with a pair of relatively well-working eyes too.

There was not a single note of malice in his voice, you had to remind yourself; he didn’t mean to embarrass you, not truly. And should you be fair, you had been the first to call him out. You had started the teasing; you might as well finish it.

Two can play this game, Captain, you thought. Even if one of us is infinitely better at it at the moment.

“So what? Are you saying you mind me ogling you and maybe, maybe liking what I see?” you asked, mentally congratulating yourself at the feigned nonchalance in your voice.

Steve’s smile turned softer and oh, now he was not playing fair. You could melt under the gentle force of that smile on any normal day when he turned its power on you, let alone after your heart had been tried so much today already.

“Never said that, sweetheart. Now, you look little flushed there. Why don’t you join me so I can get you properly wet?”

Your jaw dropped. Literally dropped, your brain short-circuiting. Surely, he meant the pool… surely, he did not.

You most definitely lost this round. Perhaps you had lost your sanity too, but that had been minutes ago, when you thought you could start anything with Steve Rogers and win.

“STEVEN GRANT!” you shrieked, the high-pitched sound drowned in Steve’s outburst of laughter, to which you involuntarily joined, because did he really say that or had you got a heatstroke? “You- you did not just say that to me!”

The laughter in his eyes told you that the words very much did leave his mouth and he regretted none of it. In fact, he was quite proud of himself. The loveable, sweet, dirty-minded jerk.

Steve Rogers, ladies and gentlemen.

“Come on, sweetheart. Come join me.”

Speaking of loveable and sweet…

“Ugh. What’s in it for me?” you questioned despite actually wanting to follow his invitation instantly. You did need to cool off and you weren’t reading anyway. Plus, you had Steve in a pool all for yourself… and a pool only to share with Steve, of course. But still. “You know, swimming is-“

“-the only class you had to retake at the academy, I know. Maybe I can teach you a thing or two.”

“Pff, weak, Rogers,” you dismissed him, a smile tugging at your lips still.

“Oh? Well maybe I can offer an incentive then?”

You hesitated. You already wanted to join him – but you couldn’t but be intrigued as to what he could come up with. You put away your book at last, your sunglasses joining it soon after.

“Okay…I’m listening.”

Steve shrugged, most definitely flexing his large biceps which were still on display. “Easy enough. If you join me… you won’t only get to watch, but also touch.”

You scoffed. Weak. Enticing, naturally; but quite predictable. You expected better from him.

You crossed your arms on your chest to mimic his stance a bit, pushing your breasts up about as innocently as he had flexed his arms. The flicker of his gaze down that direction, even if brief, was very satisfying.

“Steve, honey, if you think that’s enough of an incentive for me to get my hair wet and step into a pool which I’m not a fan of, then you’re very, very full of yourself.”

You noticed the way he slowly lifted one corner of his lips, the way he breathed in for a retort – and when you quickly went over what you said, your core almost instinctively responding to the mere suggestion of you being full of himself – you pointed a warning finger on him.

“Do not make that sentence into a pun.”

Steve laughed in response, but obediently swallowed the comment. “Come on, sweetheart. Come have fun with me.”

Speaking of poor choice of words – or a very deliberate one…

You couldn’t help it; you snorted.

“Now you sound like a dirty old man,” you teased him, but finally rose to your feet, the warmed-up paving stones pleasant under your feet.

“Yeah, well, I’m a bit of both, so I guess that’s fair.”

“Uh-huh, just as I like you,” you hummed as you watched him flow towards the wide steps you were about to walk down, carefully dipping your toe in – and swiftly pulling your foot back. “It’s cold!”

“Cold?!” Steve echoed with disbelief, shaking his head, but offering a compassionate smile when he realized you had been grilling your body in the sun for quite some time. “Don’t worry. I’ll warm you up.”

“Promises, promises…” you muttered, but took a deep breath and went as fast as you could handle before you could change your mind.

Steve’s hands welcomed you, pulling you flush to his warm body indeed, fingertips tracing your cheek before dropping a kiss to your nose. And cheek. And then mouth, lingering there, smiling against your lips, arm wrapping firmly around your waist.

Alright. Had you needed some convincing, this would definitely make the cut. Worth it.

“Incentive enough?” he teased against your lips, tasting of sunshine and well, a bit of chlorine. Still worth it.

“Hm… not entirely convinced. Maybe try convincing me again?”

You felt his smile widen minutely, the only warning you got before his palm spread over your nape to pull you closer, his lips back on yours, easily parting them and kissing you deep, taking his time convincing your very thoroughly, your recently activated hindbrain approving of the possibilities of having some fun time in the pool with him indeed.

You let your hands wander and appreciate the wide planes of his back, water gently flowing as you found yourself being backed into the wall of the pool. Steve’s arm slipped lower until he was cupping the globes of your ass, effortlessly coaxing your leg around his waist, opening you up to his hardening length, tongue exploring your mouth and echoing the needy noise you released when his hips rocked against yours. Now you truly felt thoroughly warmed up – in fact, the cool water felt like nothing against the inferno building in your veins, burning hot when Steve’s nimble fingers traced the hem of your bikini bottoms and slipped under.

“Guys, please, don’t fuck in the pool,” a wry voice sounded from above your head without warning, causing you to yelp and drop your hands in an instant.

Hadn’t it been for Steve’s firm grip on you, you’d jump and drop your leg too. As Tony continued lecturing you through the speakers at the ceiling, Steve had enough decency to stop tongue-fucking your mouth, simply resting his lips against yours; as if Tony’s interruption and lack of concept of privacy wasn’t maddening enough.

What the fuck? Why the hell was he even doing, watching you?! Or had he had Jarvis tell on you? Warn him off? That… would be fairly reasonable, you assumed, but--- principles! Privacy!

“I’d say get a room, but you literally have the room several floors down… and by room, I mean half the floor. That’s enough flat surfaces to have your lady on and against, Rogers. Keep the pool clean of your filth. PSA over.”

Steve withdrew at last, a colourful curse on his lips as he released the sweet grip on your thigh, long fingers withdrawing. Looking up at him, teeth worrying over your lower lip, you couldn’t but chuckle at his wide pupils coupled with a very, very annoyed face.

“I’ll kill him. Help me hide the body?” he suggested, clearly only half-joking.

More out of habit than anything else, you shook your head, the absurdity of the situation fully settling. Tony probably did have Jarvis to alert him if someone – who wasn’t him, ew, thank you, brain – was about to fool around in the pool. Not that that made it much better, that you weren’t special, but it certainly had you feel less violated… even if equally annoyed.  

“Do you think he has microphones too?”

“I hope so. I hope we scarred him for life,” Steve said, frowning – and then his face suddenly lit up with mischief, fingers teasingly travelling up your thigh again, snapping the elastic of your bottoms against your hip. “In fact, I think I want to scar him further. What do you say? You up for the challenge? Let’s ignore the orders of the self-appointed overlord?”

You slapped his hand as much as possible in the water, laughing, shaking your head again. Then, you couldn’t but kiss the pout from his lips, an alternative plan already forming in your head.

You leaned to his ear, whispering.

“How about… we have some PG-appropriate fun in here. And if you behave, well, then I’ll think of an incentive for you.”

Steve’s hand found its way to your waist, squeezing.

“Okay…I’m listening,” he echoed your earlier words.

You leaned back and faced him, grinning. “Well, if I tell you, you could get too excited and you might not actually behave, so…” Deliberately slow, you trailed the tip of your index fingers down his sternum, over his stomach, following the treasure trail, your smiling turning coy. “You’ll just have to trust me that I’ll make it worth your while, don’t you, Cap?”

His dark eyes zeroed on your mouth as you popped the P, leaving your lips slightly parted, a quick dart of your tongue to hint what you came up so far to motivate him. When he met your gaze again, the black of his pupils burning, your stomach made a pleasant somersault; the look he graced you with spoke of a promise that he would certainly made it worth your while later. You couldn’t wait.

“I suppose you’ve got yourself a deal then, Agent Jones.”

“Good,” you hummed, dramatically offering him your hand to shake. He squeezed it with a smile perfectly mirroring yours, releasing your hand when you sweetened the deal with a kiss to his cheek.

Then, faster than the mighty supersoldier could comprehend, you swiftly slipped from his grip, pushing away from the wall and swimming away; not without kicking widely enough to splash water all over his hopefully scandalized face.

“Oh, you sneaky--! Just you wait!”

You laughed your ass off until his long fingers circled your ankle, pulling you back to him and flush his front – in a perfectly PG fashion. The punishment by tickles was brutal even under water, all while you squeaked and splashed some more, but damn it was still worth it.

And those incentive each of you delivered later? Even more so.

Steve Rogers masterlist // Love on The Brain masterlist

Jhjkkflfblf I loved writing a simple “drabble” with happy little shit Steve so much 🥹🥺 He deserves the world and all things good.

If you enjoyed, let me know 💕

P.S. - as you can see, the grip GG and Sparkles have on me is as firm as Steve’s--- biceps 💪😂 

[wistfulwanderingone]

(Cassandra's Point-of-View)

Meeting in the Moonlight

Fandom: Ikemen Prince

Characters: Clavis Lelouch, Cassandra (OC); Clavis X OC story AU

Tags: SLOW BURN, fluff, romance, Meet Cute, Humor, Intrigue

Summary: A young noblewoman Cassandra, seeking refuge from the womanizing antics of Prince Jin, finds herself on a darkened balcony with a mysterious prince with a captivating laugh. Their unexpected encounter leaves her both flustered and intrigued, sparking a enigmatic and promising connection she can't ignore.

Word Count: ~3000

Timeline: 4 years after Bloodstained Rose Day, 6 years before the "Belle" year.

A/N: Introducing my new OC paired with Clavis Lelouch, Cassandra, who has been carefully crafted for him specifically. (More details at the end of the post).

And stay tuned for Clavis' point-of-view soon!

@dododrawsstuff @aide-falls You will hopefully enjoy this!

Meeting in the Moonlight

As Cassandra rounded a corner in the palace hallways, she came to an abrupt halt, instinctively stifling the groan that threatened to escape—a habit ingrained by years of her parents' insistence on perfect composure and the suppression of 'unrefined' sounds. With a lollipop dangling from his lips, Prince Jin swaggered down the hallway ahead of her. 

Not only had her friends Yves and Licht warned her about Jin and his notorious 'womanizing' ways, but she had also seen it firsthand in the few months since she had become a regular visitor to the palace. To her, he was the absolute worst. Without a second thought, she darted into the nearest room, the heavy door closing with a soft thud behind her.

The room was spacious, adorned with elegant furnishings and opulent decorations, but she barely noticed. Her eyes quickly locked onto a balcony, its ruby curtains billowing softly in the night breeze. In a few swift strides, she crossed the room, stepped outside, and drew the curtains closed behind her. Holding her breath, she peeked through a small gap to watch the door. The last thing she wanted was to deal with Jin. In her eyes, he was a good-for-nothing philanderer with an unfortunate weakness for women who, like her, were amply endowed.

Memories of her first encounters with Jin flooded back, leaving her feeling exposed and uncomfortable. She hated feeling that way—like a prize to be ogled rather than a person to be respected. She had enough of that in her day-to-day life. To her parents, she was nothing more than an accessory to their social standing, not a person with emotions and dreams. Every aspect of her life was meticulously controlled, from her attire to her behavior at social gatherings, all orchestrated to enhance the family's reputation. Her every action was to be a symbol of their success, a means to display their impeccable breeding and influence. They dismissed her feelings, desires, and aspirations as inconsequential. In their eyes, Cassandra existed not for her own sake but as a tool to further their prestige, a polished gem meant to shine in the public eye without ever revealing the turmoil and longing within her heart. What she truly longed for was passionate freedom and the ability to pursue her aspirations and dreams.

Tucking a strand of chocolate-brown hair behind her ear, she pressed herself against the wall to one side. The sensation of the cold stone against her back did little to calm her disquiet; however, the darkness of the balcony offered a temporary sanctuary, giving her a moment to gather herself and regain her outward poise.  She closed her eyes briefly, breathing in the solitude like a candle flickering in the wind, grasping a moment of stillness before being snuffed out. 

"Are we playing hide-and-seek? Or are you here for a more intimate rendezvous?" a deep, husky voice whispered against her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

She gasped and spun around, stumbling backward and nearly tripping over her own feet before colliding with the balcony railing, her heart pounding wildly in her chest.

Obscured by the dim light, a dark figure stood before her. Her thoughts spun. Who was this man? Had he been here all along? How had she not noticed him before? 

"I apologize for startling you. I was only teasing," the figure asked, his voice a warm, reassuring tone with a musical lilt that seemed to dance in the air. Are you alright, young lady?" The concern in his voice and the soothing tone dispelled the remnants of her fear.

"Yes, I’m fine,” she replied, smoothing her skirt. “I was just hiding from…” She paused and squinted, straining to pierce the thick veil of darkness that enveloped the balcony. The moon, hidden behind a dense shroud of clouds, offered no illumination. Shrouded in darkness, the figure was a mere silhouette, an indistinct shape blending seamlessly with the shadows. “What I mean is I didn't want someone to see me."

"May I ask who? I'll need a name if I’m to be a gentleman and defend your honor.” His words seemed genuine enough, but at the same time, his tone dripped with mirth, adding an enigmatic edge that piqued Cassandra's curiosity, making her want to know more despite the rather odd situation in which she found herself.

Usually, she would hold her tongue and hide the real reason for her hiding, crafting a socially acceptable excuse instead. But there was something about this man—his playful tone, an underlying laissez-faire that made her want to confess the truth about her actions and share what was on her mind.

She turned and peeked out the curtains again to ensure they were still alone. "I’m hiding from that big creep, Jin," she confessed.

The figure chuckled a rich, inviting laugh that made her smile as she turned back around. It was the most wonderful laugh she had ever heard, immediately chasing away all her remaining inhibitions. 

"You know he's a prince, right?" he asked, and she could still hear breathy laughter in his words.

"Just because he's a prince doesn't mean he isn't a huge creep!"

"Be that as it may, he's still a prince," he said, stepping closer. Though his features remained hidden in the shadows, the faint glint of sensual golden eyes flickered like distant stars barely breaking through a stormy sky. That and his sudden proximity made her heart pound in her chest, and each beat echoed like a drum in the quiet night. She wanted to step closer and unveil the man behind the silhouette, but the instinct to retreat and maintain the safety of her anonymity held her back.

"Well, if the crown's crooked, I'll call it like I see it." Typically, she kept thoughts like that to herself, especially around strangers. Who knew who might overhear and report back to her parents about her supposed 'disgrace.' But for some reason, she had said it anyway, and for a brief moment, she almost didn’t care.

Another velvety, irresistible chuckle, one that she wanted to wrap around herself like a blanket. "Unfortunately, there are laws against speaking about princes with that kind of language." His voice was hypnotic, and she felt herself grin, a small rebellion against her earlier fears. 

"I'm pretty sure 'creep' isn't on that list."

"But...are you certain?" His suddenly grave tone was starkly at odds with the playful one that preceded it.

"Well, no, but..." Her voice faltered as she peered into the shadows, unease growing within her belly. "Are you a guard? Are you going to report me? Or...hand me over to Prince Jin?"

"Now, that would be amusing.” His smooth and enticing chuckle resonated through the night. “And if there's one thing I'm all about, it's finding every bit of amusement life has to offer."

Panic seized her, and she contemplated fleeing, her muscles tensing as she stepped back. But before she could run, his hand shot out, staying her with a gentle but unyielding grip. The warmth of his touch radiated through her, causing her heart to flutter wildly despite the fear coiling within her.

As he took another step into the light, her hand flew to her mouth, and the royal crest of a prince gleamed faintly in the moonlight, its significance striking her like a lightning bolt. Dressed in shades of white, gold, lavender, and purple, he was a vision of princely elegance. His uniform framed his tall, elegant form, accentuating the broadness of his shoulders and the lithe grace of his every movement. The moon bathed the balcony in a silvery glow, highlighting the regal contours of his figure. The broad belt cinched at the waist accentuated his waist and narrow hips while emphasizing his broad shoulders. His gloved hand, still holding her arm, was both commanding and gentle, a juxtaposition that sent a shiver down her spine.

His ashy purple hair was perfectly tousled in a way that was somehow both elegant and rebellious. Each strand shimmered like spun lavender in the moonlight. Her green eyes widened, taking in every detail of his chiseled features—the sharp, angular jawline, the faint shadow of a dimple that played at the corner of his mouth, and the small beauty mark under his lip that drew her attention to a mouth that held a perpetual hint of a playful smirk. It was a face that could both disarm and enchant with a single glance.

But it was his eyes that truly captivated her. Golden and mesmerizing, they seemed to shimmer with a thousand quips and secrets, each one more tantalizing than the last. Those eyes, framed by long, dark lashes, locked onto hers with a magnetic pull, inviting her into a world that promised freedom and adventure far beyond the constraints of her current life.

His very essence seemed to radiate a blend of charm and an underlying current of untamed spirit. And it all made her heart race, and an inexplicable feeling welled within her. The scent of night-blooming roses mingled with the cool, crisp breeze that caressed her skin, and for a heartbeat, perhaps two, time seemed to stand still. She was utterly entranced, caught in the spell woven by his golden gaze and the ethereal glow of the moonlit night. The intensity of the moment was almost too much to bear. Yet, she longed for it to never end, to remain forever in the thrall of his mesmerizing eyes and intoxicating presence.

He withdrew his hand, and the smirk on his lips widened, and she knew her reaction amused him. "Third Prince, Clavis Lelouch, at your service. The most charming of all the princes," he said with a bow.  His velvety laugh resonated in her mind, stirring unfamiliar emotions once more. The warmth of his touch on her arm still lingered, and she could feel herself being drawn even deeper by undeniable allure.

"You're... a prince?" she stammered at last, her voice barely above a whisper. A fresh wave of heat blossomed on her cheeks, leaving her flustered. His presence, so strikingly handsome, charming, and rebelliously intriguing, made it difficult for her to think straight. "I...I didn't mean to offend...I mean, I didn't know..." Each word felt heavy on her tongue, her composure unraveling under his intense gaze. She felt exposed, every insecurity magnified under the golden glow of his eyes. Yet, something about him made her want to linger in this vulnerable state and explore whatever made her feel inexplicably drawn to him despite it.

"Oh, don't fret, dearie." Clavis waved away her concerns with a playful grin. "You've added quite a delightful twist to my evening. It's not every day one encounters such refreshingly candid commentary on royalty."

Cassandra blinked, trying to process his words. "You mean...you're not going to report me or hand me over to Prince Jin?"

Clavis chuckled. "Report you? Hand you over to Jin? What would be the fun of that? No, I'd much prefer to keep this enchanting encounter our little secret." He placed a gloved finger seductively over his pursed lips. “Wouldn’t you?”

Her gaze drifted to his lips, her thoughts instantly consumed with imagining how those soft, plush lips would feel against hers. He lowered his hand, smirking down at her. Realizing where her gaze had wandered, she bit her lower lip, trying to hide the rush of heat that flooded her face.

Clavis's grin widened, a mischievous light dancing in his golden eyes. He leaned against the balcony railing, his posture relaxed and inviting as he signaled her to step closer. With a playful tilt of his head, he asked, "So, tell me, what exactly did Jin do to earn the title of 'creep' from you?" 

Cassandra hesitated, suddenly feeling acutely self-conscious. She glanced away, her eyes lingering on the moonlit garden below. "He's just...he makes me feel uncomfortable. I try to avoid him whenever I can."

"I see.” Clavis's expression turned thoughtful. “And it would appear you have a talent for discovering intriguing hiding spots. Perhaps you might consider inviting me to join your little escapade next time." As he spoke, he reached out, took her hand, and gently drew her closer.

Cassandra's heart lurched a sudden, breathless moment where the world seemed to narrow to the space between them. The heat radiating from his body enveloped her, the intoxicating blend of lavender, earth, and burnt sugar that clung to him, grounding her yet sending her mind spinning. His hand, warm and firm around hers, felt like an anchor in a storm she hadn't realized was brewing within her. His words echoed in her mind, absurd and impossible, yet they lit a fire deep inside her, one that whispered of the wild freedom she craved. The idea of an escapade with him was reckless, preposterous even—but the irresistible pull of his presence made her yearn to throw caution to the wind and follow him into the unknown.

Her pulse quickened as the weight of his suggestion settled over her, the conflicting emotions swirling within her, threatening to overwhelm her senses. She knew she should refuse, should step back and put distance between them, but the idea of pulling away felt like tearing herself away from something vital, something she had longed for without even realizing it. The words to decline stuck in her throat, tangled with the unspoken desires she was too afraid to acknowledge.

"I... I don't think that's a good idea," she finally stammered, her cheeks flushing with a deep, fiery blush.

Clavis raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying her flustered state. "Oh? And why not?"

"Because... because you're a prince, and I'm just... me," she replied, her voice faltering as she struggled to find the right words, feeling her awkwardness intensify under his amused scrutiny.

Clavis's smile softened slightly, his eyes twinkling with amusement and an emotion she couldn't quite place. "Titles are just fancy hats, ‘Just-Me’. It's the head and heart beneath that count."

Cassandra couldn't help but smile at his whimsical words. He reminded her of those bewitching characters in children’s books who spoke in riddles and rhymes, drawing her into a world of enchantment. A gentle warmth unfurled within her. It was as if he had touched a part of her soul she seldom revealed

"Thank you, Prince Clavis," she said softly, the magic of the moment lingering in the air. "I should probably go now."

"As you wish.” Clavis straightened up, his posture becoming more formal, yet his eyes still gleamed with mischief, and his hand still held hers. “But before you depart, it seems you neglected to give me your name."

Her cheeks reddened again, and she inwardly berated herself for blundering further in front of a prince. "Cassandra Bellerose."

A soft smile graced the prince’s lips as he bowed. “Ah, Shining Beautiful Rose. How befitting.” He looked down at her hand, cradled between his own, his long lashes grazing his cheeks as he gently brought her knuckles to his lips. The tender kiss was a soft, lingering warmth against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine and setting her pulse racing. Half-lidded in the moonlight his golden eyes held hers with a gaze that shimmered with unspoken promises.

She returned his bow with a graceful curtsy, her mind swirling in a dreamy haze as he finally released her hand. The loss of his touch left her fingers tingling, a ghostly reminder of the connection they had just shared. Words eluded her, her tongue tied by the rapid beating of her heart and the fluttering sensation in her belly.

Clavis lingered for a moment longer, a playful smile tugging at his lips.“Until we meet again, Lady Cassandra, and we most assuredly shall,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, as if sharing a secret. Then, with a light chuckle, he stepped back, holding the curtains open for her. The fabric brushed against her as she passed, the soft whisper of silk adding to the surreal, almost poignant feel of the moment. His scent, a lingering mix of lavender and something darker, more mysterious, clung to her senses, wrapping around her like a warm embrace.

As she exited the room, Cassandra leaned against the closed door, trying to steady her breathing. Her pulse was still racing with the thrill of being near him. Every heartbeat seemed to echo her excitement in Clavis's presence, his confident grace and playful glint awakening something deep and unspoken within her. The warmth from his kiss still lingered on her hand, and the memory sent a delicate shiver through her.

Her gaze drifted over the palace hallway, her mind consumed by thoughts of Clavis Lelouch—a man who could easily turn her world upside down. Every detail of his face was now etched in her memory, the tempting pull of his presence drawing her into the intoxicating blend of charm and mystery he exuded. His captivating laugh echoed in her mind, a sound she suddenly longed to hear again. That laugh, that gaze, and his very being seemed to call out to her, offering a taste of the freedom and passion her heart had always craved.

The spell was cast, and she knew, with a trembling heart, that Clavis Lelouch was unlike anyone she had ever met before or would ever meet again.

---

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this first taste of Clavis and Cassandra's story. I have most of it planned out and lots written. It is a slow-burn, angsty romance, be warned. I will post a main landing page for their stories next, followed by a Clavis point-of-view!

Pairing Summary: Cassandra never expected her first encounter with Clavis to awaken a longing for freedom and adventure she’s always kept hidden. As their worlds collide, she finds herself irresistibly drawn to his untamed spirit, a force that promises to shatter the chains of her carefully controlled life. For Clavis, what begins as a playful curiosity soon turns into something far more serious as he finds himself captivated by the one person who sees beyond his mischievous facade. As their story unfolds, two hearts grapple with the freedom they both crave—yet fear to embrace.

[parkerslatte]

14 and 45 with azriel and it’s really fluffy! Thanks and congratulations 🎉🎉

A/N: tysm for your request! I hope you enjoy :)

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Drunken Kisses

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: none

Summary: It is Azriel’s birthday and Y/N originally wouldn’t be able to spend the day with him. The Inner Circle take him to Rita’s and he gets extremely drunk and Y/N surprises him.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

3000 Follower Celebration

•••

Azriel rarely got drunk, at least to the point of losing control of his body. He didn’t mind getting tipsy from time to time but he could simply have a good time being surrounded by his family. However as Cassian placed another drink in front of him, one that would surely tip him over that edge of being drunk to the point of memory loss, Azriel missed the one person who should have been sitting by his side. 

“Where is Y/N?” Azriel slurred as he sipped his drink. “It’s my birthday, she should be here.”

Amused looks were passed throughout the Inner Circle as Azriel pouted. Y/N had been away at the Summer Court for nearly two months now but Azriel felt like it had been a lot longer. From the moment Y/N went away, Azriel missed her. Ever since the two had gotten together nearly ten years ago, they hadn’t spent too much time apart. 

“I miss her so much,” he whined. “She has never been gone this long before.”

“She’s only been gone two months Az,” Cassian said. “I thought you were meant to be the patient one.”

“I am,” Azriel protested. “But I miss her.” Azriel finished his drink. There was a silent communication within the group to not give the shadowsinger another drink. 

Cassian clapped a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “It’s your birthday, put a smile on your face!”

Azriel shook his head. “I’ll only put a smile on my face if Y/N sits next to me right now.”

Azriel folded his arms across his chest. His heart hurt from being away from Y/N. When Rhys had sent her to the Summer Court, he begged him to go with her. Rhys refused, Azriel had his own work that he needed to focus on. The day Y/N left, Azriel was the one to bring her to the Summer Court. As soon as they arrived, Azriel refused to let go of her. His arms remained around her waist as he buried his head into the crook of her neck. 

“Please come back with me,” Azriel mumbled into her hair. 

Y/N hugged him tighter. “I can’t, my love. I have to do my job. I wish I could.”

“I will miss you,” Azriel said, resting his forehead against hers.

“I will miss you too,” Y/N said, pressing a kiss against his lips. 

Azriel was ripped out of his own memory as he felt someone sit next to him. He took no interest in who it was as he stared at the empty glass in front of him. Azriel never thought it was possible to miss someone this much. The constant pain in his chest from their separation was something he never wished to experience again. 

“Az, there’s someone who is trying to get your attention,” Feyre said, looking between the shadowsinger and the new presence that had joined their table. 

“I’m not interested,” Azriel grumbled. “If it’s not Y/N, then I don’t care.”

“Then maybe you should actually look for yourself, brother,” Cassian replied. 

As Azriel finally raised his gaze from the empty glass he looked at each face of his family who were simply staring at him in amusement. His gaze drifted around the circle until they landed on the one person he had been talking about all night. 

A goofy smile appeared on Azriel’s face as he looked at Y/N. “You’re here!”

Y/N smiled at her mate, as he reached out to her. She simply moved until she was close enough for him to pull her onto his lap. 

“I missed you so much, my love,” Y/N mumbled, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Happy birthday.”

Azriel’s head nuzzled into her neck as he breathed in her scent. “I love you. Don’t ever leave again.” His words were slurred and quiet. 

With one hand, Y/N ran her fingers through his hair and with her other hand she gently stroked his cheek. 

“When did you get back, Y/N?” Feyre asked, sipping her drink. 

“Only an hour ago,” Y/N responded. “I asked Rhys where all of you were.”

Azriel hugged Y/N closer to him and began to press small kisses against her neck. Y/N simply smiled. 

“Can we go home?” Azriel asked, his lips grazing her ear. “I wanna kiss you so badly. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Y/N replied, pressing a kiss against his forehead. 

Once she pulled away, Azriel pouted. “I wanted to kiss your lips.”

From beside Azriel and Y/N, Cassian laughed. “It’d be best to take him home, Y/N. He’s been like this all night.”

Azriel hand caresses Y/N’s thigh as he begins to pepper kisses across her jaw, completely ignoring Cassian. Y/N intertwined their fingers and squeezed his hand gently. 

“Let’s go home,” Azriel begged. 

Y/N turned back to him and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. Azriel practically melted. His mind was solely focussed on Y/N. As her lips pulled away from his, Azriel whined. 

“Come on, let’s go,” Y/N said, slipping from his lap. 

Azriel jumped up from his seat, swaying on his feet as the room spun around him. 

“Good luck, Y/N,” Cassian commented. 

Y/N shoved him playfully as she walked past him. “I will see you all tomorrow.”

“Not likely,” Cassian said. “You’ve been gone two months, I’m sure Azriel will keep you within your bed all day tomorrow.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I’ll see you all whenever then.”

Azriel gripped onto her hand and tugged her to him. Y/N waved back at her family before being pulled out into the night air. There weren’t many people on the streets, many being home or in the many different bars and pubs in Velaris. 

The couple hadn’t even made it far enough away for the music to be completely inaudible before Azriel pulled Y/N into his arms. Y/N let out a noise of surprise before wrapping her arms around him. 

“I missed you so much, Y/N,” Azriel muttered. His wings encased the two of them, giving them more privacy. “It- it hurts to be away from you.”

Y/N pulled away from the hug and cupped his cheeks. His hazel eyes bore into hers. “It hurt me too, Az. I thought about you every single day.”

“I felt it,” Azriel said, placing a hand over his heart. “I felt all the love you would send my way.”

Y/N rested her forehead against his. “Well I needed to remind you how loved you are.”

A large smile spread across his face before he was surging forward and captured her lips with his own. In his drunken state, he stumbled as he threw himself off balance. Pulling away with a laugh, Y/N rested her hands on his shoulders. “Let’s get back home. We can do all the kissing you want.”

Azriel’s face brightened. “Really? What about anything else?” Y/N rolled her eyes at her insatiable mate. “We can focus on that tomorrow and when you are sober.”

Azriel huffed. “Fine.”

Y/N giggled and wrapped him in one final hug. Azriel had never felt such love before and as soon as he met Y/N, he never wanted to live in a world without it. Every single touch sent his senses into overdrive. He was normally one who could control his emotions well but he could never control them around Y/N. She could always tell exactly what he was feeling at any point. To Azriel, Y/N was his home. Wherever she was, it was where he wanted to be. 

“Your hugs feel like home,” Azriel said. “You feel like home.”

Y/N only held onto him tighter, a feeling of warmth coursing down the bond and Azriel smiled. I deserve this, Azriel thought. I really deserve this. 

“I know you said that I feel like home,” Y/N began, “but can we go to our actual home? It is getting quite cold out and we can go and cosy up by the fire and you will get all of the kisses you want.”

Azriel pulled away and smiled. The smile only Y/N saw. “Then let’s go home, I only wish to be with you all night.”

Y/N pecked his lips. “Happy birthday, Az.”

“You are the greatest gift I have ever received,” Azriel responded, intertwining their fingers together.

[mermaidchan05]

Vesuvia Weekly: Date with Disaster

This... got away from me lol.

Julian is all set to go on a date with Damian. But something is making him decidedly more anxious than he should be...

Featuring Julian, my apprentice Damian, Damian's familiar Oswald the bat, and some brief appearances by Asra and Faust.

Almost 3000 words, content warning for anxiety and claustrophobia, just in case. Don't worry, everything turns out just fine! :)

_____________

It was really a rather simple date, considering how long it had taken Julian and Damian to plan. But that didn’t stop Julian from being nearly beside himself with nerves.

He should have been excited. It was finally time for Julian to prepare for that romantic picnic that he had promised Damian over a month ago. And then they would be off, spending a glorious night out on the town. Julian had plans. Secret plans. Plans that he couldn’t wait to surprise Damian with.

But for now, Julian was rushing around the little room above the shop, tripping over trinkets as he snatched up the last few things he needed.

Asra, who had promised to take care of things at the shop while he and Damian were out, watched with a raised eyebrow.

“Trying to wear a hole in the floor, Ilya?” Asra teased.

“Asra, as much as I enjoy our banter, this isn’t the time,” Julian called frantically over his shoulder. “Where is it, where is it, I told Damian I would pack a lantern, and I can’t do that if I can’t—?

“Did you mean the lantern on the shelf?” said Asra.

Julian ignored Asra’s playful smirk and looked at the shelf. Which was a very obvious place for a lantern to be. Of course, it was right there. In plain sight. Julian sighed and grabbed the lantern, carefully shoving it amongst his ever-growing pile of picnic supplies.

Asra’s smile slipped away. “Ilya? Is something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong!” Julian burst out. “Everything is fine. Tonight is going to be perfect.”

Asra hummed thoughtfully. “Of course. Then I’m sure you have a reason for packing one of Damian’s old Masquerade masks.”

Julian froze. He stared at the mask in his hand. He hadn’t even noticed what he had been grabbing. He felt his face heat up.

“It’s, uh… that’s not for the picnic,” he said. “It’s for later. Tonight. We’ll be going dancing, you know.”

Asra raised an eyebrow. It was clear that even Faust, hiding in Asra’s outfit as usual, completely doubted every word Julian said.  

Julian gave up. He put the mask down with a sigh.

“I… sorry,” he said. “I’m nervous. I admit.”

“I noticed,” Asra quipped. “But this seems a bit… more nervous than usual.”

“Yes, Asra, thank you for your observation.” Julian sighed again. “I can’t help it. I must be going mad from the stress of work.”

Asra’s eyebrows crept higher. “What makes you say that?”

“It’s the lack of sleep, I’m sure of it,” said Julian. “Usual Devorak nonsense, isn’t it? Or just… doctor nonsense. Always excellent at providing care, but the worst patient… hard, though, to get a good eight hours—or even a halfway decent five—when the past three nights came up with nothing but nightmares. And they only get worse, of course. Just my… luck…”

He winced. He hadn’t meant to say any of that out loud.

“Nightmares?” Asra repeated. “And the time frame seems… specific. It’s not… has anything happened recently?”

It took Julian a second to realize what Asra meant. “What? No. No, no, no, it’s nothing like that. Nothing’s happened. Everyone’s perfectly fine. Thriving, even. And we’re nowhere near any, ah, anniversaries.”

Asra nodded. It was good to know—and to admit—that no part of Julian’s sordid past was coming back to haunt him. Not at the moment, anyway.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Julian went on. “Stress. That’s all.”

He thought he had managed to successfully brush it off. Then Asra’s eyes flashed.

“Damian’s been giving you magic lessons, hasn’t he?”

Julian stopped short. “He… well, yes, but what does that have to do with—?”

“Have these nightmares been about anything specific?” Asra asked.

“Nnnoooot particularly,” said Julian, frowning in thought. “Just general foreboding. You know me. Once a thespian, always a… wait.” He let out a nervous laugh. “Wait, you can’t be serious. You don’t really think this all means something, do you?”

“The veil between the mortal and magical realms grow even thinner in dreams,” said Asra. “You’ve seen it yourself, Ilya. You may not have been able to reach the Hanged Man otherwise.”

Julian ran a hand through his hair. “That’s… uh, well, that’s true, but… I don’t know… mystic dream veils sound a bit…”

Asra didn’t let him finish his awkward attempt at waving that thought aside. “Ilya. Dreams like that—particularly repeated dreams—can be considered warnings. And you’ve been opening yourself up to magic lately.”

“You can thank Damian for that,” said Julian with another awkward chuckle.

Asra was far from distracted. “Ilya, please. This could be serious.”

Julian shut up.

“If the dreams have been getting worse the past few days, and came to a head last night… it might mean some kind of danger is approaching. And approaching quickly.” Asra frowned in thought again. Then: “Ilya. Tell me. What is the worst possible thing you can imagine happening during your date tonight?”

For a split second, Julian wanted to argue. A bunch of nightmares couldn’t possibly mean all that. It didn’t make sense.

But if anyone knew the ins and outs of weird magic visions, it was Asra. And if something bad really was on its way, Julian didn’t want to put anyone at risk.

He had to take this seriously. Just in case.

Julian thought about it for a moment. Of course, he had already considered the hundreds of things that could go wrong on a date like this. But those were all small issues. Forgetting one of the ingredients, tripping over something on the way to their picnic spot and spilling everything, not getting to see absolutely everything they wanted to see, Damian falling into another barrel… those were fixable. Minor. Things they would laugh about later. None of it warranted a sense of impending doom.

Except, perhaps, for one thing…

“The worst thing I can imagine…” Julian said slowly. “Well, I suppose the worst thing I can picture is something bad happening to…”

He trailed off. Asra’s eyes had widened again. Julian shot to his feet.

“Damian,” he gasped.

Julian didn’t waste any more time. If something bad was going to happen to Damian—or maybe already had happened—then he needed to find him. Fast.

He knew Damian was in the forest, stocking up on some ingredients to help restock the shop. So that was exactly where Julian headed.

His fears were only confirmed when Damian’s familiar, trust little Oswald the bat, collided with Julian before he even set foot in the wood.

Damian never traveled anywhere without his familiar. Oswald was his constant companion. If they had been separated, then something was very, very wrong.

Oswald bounced off of Julian’s chest, landing in his waiting hands. Julian hastily checked him over. The little bat looked distinctly ruffled.

“Oswald, what happened?” Julian asked frantically. “Where’s Damian?”

Of course, Julian couldn’t understand Oswald. Not the way Damian could. But the sound the bat made was unmistakably one of alarm. Oswald hastily took to the air again. He flapped a circle around Julian’s head. Then he zipped off, flying deeper into the forest.

Julian immediately followed.

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

Damian tried to keep his breathing steady. It didn’t work. Gods, he never should have gone back here. He knew the caves in the forest could be dangerous. And of course the recent heavy rain would have caused problems.

He’d been so foolish. He’d thought he knew the paths well enough. He thought he could handle any magical trouble that might come his way. He’d thought that the rare and highly useful nettles that grew in this particular little cavern would have worth whatever risk there might have been.

Not this. It wasn’t worth this.

Damian couldn’t stop his mind from reeling. From berating himself over and over as the panic took over. He should have paid attention. He knew the signs of a landslide—or dirt-slide in this case. He knew that any rocks and rubble perched on top of the caves were a bad omen.

But he’d notice too late. It wasn’t until he heard the rumble. Until he saw the cavern grow dark.

Oswald had just managed to slip out before the cavern entrance was completely sealed off. Now Damian was stuck. In a space that was far too small. And felt smaller and smaller every second. He couldn’t see. He was too panicked to breathe. Any thought of using magic had completely left his mind. All he could do was scrabble against the rocks that kept him trapped. He cried out desperately, hoping someone, anyone would hear him.

At last, someone did.

“Damian? Damian, love, where are you?!”

Hope rushed through him. Damian pressed himself even closer to the rocks. He privately thanked all the gods that Julian could be very loud when he needed to.

“Julian!” he shouted. “Julian, I’m here!”

For a brief moment, he was terrified that Julian hadn’t heard. But at last, a response. Julian called his name again.

“I’m here!” Damian called again, hopefully for the last time. “I was an idiot, there was a landslide, and—”

“It’s alright!” Julian shouted. “It’s going to be alright. Are you hurt?”

“N-no,” said Damian. “I’m fine. Just… just get me out of here, please.”

It wasn’t fully the truth. He was a little scraped up, thanks to making sure Oswald got out. But he wasn’t worried about that. Not when he was stuck here, with no light, with stone all around him… 

“Alright.” Julian’s voice, though still loud, was still wonderfully reassuring. “Just try to stay calm, love. We’ll get you out of this, not to worry. Just need to find the right…”

His voice faded into incomprehensible mumbles. Damian started to hyperventilate again. He could almost feel the cave walls pressing in on him. And the sound of Julian trying to find a good way to dig him out did not help. Not when Damian had spent so long trying to dig himself out, just for it to end in vain…  

Then Julian cried out in triumph. “Found it! Damian, darling, step back a bit, if you can. And keep your face covered.”

Step back? In this impossibly small space? There was no back to go to, he could reach out and hit the wall.

On sheer nervous instinct, his arm flailed out at that exact thought. The walls next to him were certainly close. Enough for him to bang his upper arm. But there was nothing behind him. Not that he could touch, anyway.

It had to be enough space.

He stepped backwards. Once. Twice. Then, on the third step, his back hit the rock wall. Damian’s breath caught in his throat.

“Damian?” Julian called. “Are you ready? Is everything alright?”

Absolutely no part of this was alright. But he had to get out.

“Ready!” Damian called, trying to keep his voice steady.

If Julian gave a verbal reply, Damian didn’t hear it. But he did hear the shifting of rock. Loud enough to make Damian wince. If something went wrong, if the lost even more space…

The world rumbled. The debris covering the entrance to the little cavern shifted. Damian’s arms flew upwards, covering his face of their own accord. He heard a horrible sound: all the rocks crumbling to the ground. A burst of fresh air rippled through his hair.

“Damian!”

Julian’s voice. Gods, Damian had never been so glad to hear it.

He immediately opened his eyes… and blinked against the sudden light. That didn’t stop him from dashing out of the cavern as fast as his legs could carry him. He collided with Julian, his feet nearly flying out from under him as he stumbled over the rubble. Julian scooped him up. He pulled Damian as far away from the cavern as he could in the split second before Damian’s legs gave out completely.

Damian was breathing heavily. He buried his face against Julian’s shoulder. Julian held him gently, rubbing calming circles on his back.

It took a long moment for Damian to catch his breath. To stop shaking. And even then, he didn’t lift his head from Julian’s shoulder just yet.

“Gods,” he mumbled. “I hate it when I get like that…”

“Get like what, love?” said Julian, his tone still soothing.

“I… I completely lost it,” Damian admitted. “I didn’t even think about using magic…”

Julian stopped patting Damian’s back. He froze in total surprise. Damian smiled sarcastically, even though he knew Julian couldn’t see it.

“Claustrophobia sucks,” he said. “I don’t recommend it.”

Julian stayed frozen for another heartbeat. Then he laughed. Gods, what a glorious sound.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Julian gently kissed the top of Damian’s head. “But you know it’s nothing to be ashamed of, don’t you?”

Damian mumbled into Julian’s shoulder again, a noncommittal noise. Then he finally lifted his head.

“How did you find me?” he asked. “Oswald?”

Oswald made a soft noise at them from his upside-down perch on the nearest tree.  

Julian went slightly pink. “Ah… well, yes, sort of. Oswald found me, really. But there’s a bit more to it than that.”

Damian gave him an expectant sort of look. So Julian told him everything. About the nightmares that he had refused to talk about for the past three days. About Asra figuring out that it might have been some kind of prediction. Talking about it made Julian look just as nervous and shaky as Damian had felt only moments ago. Now Damian was the one holding Julian steady.

“Hey,  Julian, it’s alright,” Damian said gently. “I’m sorry for worrying you so much.”

“I’m sorry you were caught up in all that,” said Julian. “If I had been there with you—”

“You still wouldn’t have been able to talk me out of going into that cavern,” Damian said with a little smile. “I had my heart set on those nettles.”

Julian’s eyes widened. “Nettles? That’s what all this was about?”

“Yes,” said Damian, unashamed. “Rare nettles with very valuable magical properties. You understand. I know you’ve done some dangerous things to acquire some of your medical supplies.”

“I… can’t argue with that,” said Julian, sounding very much like he wanted to argue with that. “But Damian, my love… we need to be careful. Especially around magic.”

Damian raised an eyebrow. “Is that what’s bothering you? The magic part of it?”

“I, uh… no?” said Julian. “Maybe? I don’t mind that you’re looking for supplies for your shop, love, of course I don’t, I only—”

Then, finally, Damian understood. “Julian… are you upset at yourself for not listening to your dream? For not trusting your magical instincts?”

“I didn’t even know they were magical instincts,” Julian said guiltily. “I never even thought to question them. Or, uh, to tell anyone about them, really. And thanks to that, I completely ruined our date.”

Damian couldn’t help it. He laughed.

“Julian, you did not ruin our date. You did the opposite, really.”

Julian stared at him, dumbfounded. “I… but, darling, that’s… uh…”

“You just heroically dashed to my rescue,” said Damian. “I can’t imagine anything more romantic than that. What better way to start a picnic? It’s like something out of those plays you’re so fond of.”

Julian looked taken aback for a moment. Then he started laughing, too.

“You’re just as fond of them as I am, love,” he said.

“I don’t think it’s physically possible for anyone to love theater as much as you do,” Damian said playfully.

“Touché,” Julian chuckled. “And speaking of theater… I have a surprise for you later.”

“Sounds wonderful,” said Damian. He wasn’t particularly surprised. But he would let Julian have his moment. He earned it. “Why don’t we start on that picnic first?”

Julian flushed. “Well, ah… there is a reason for that…”

“You left the basket in the shop, didn’t you?”

“I was worried about you!” Julian protested. “I didn’t have time to think about something like—”

He was quickly silenced when Damian caught his lips in a kiss. Damian smiled playfully at him as he pulled away. Julian was too stunned to respond.

“Come on,” said Damian. “Let’s go back together and pick everything up. We should tell Asra what happened, too. I’m sure he’s worried by now.”

“Probably,” Julian admitted.

They went back to the shop hand in hand… and quite possibly sticking a little more closely together than they normally did. Anything to make each other feel better.

Oswald, for his part, seemed very happy to be dropped off under Asra’s care after everything was said and done. He didn’t want to get involved with all the mushiness that was bound to happen during their date.

And it was quite mushy. But that was exactly what Julian and Damian had been looking forward to all this time.

[vasiktomis]

TripAdvisor's Top 10 Things To Do In Volterra, Tuscany (18+)

Part 1 | Next Part

Pairing: Aro/F!Reader(No use of y/n). Rating: Explicit (Minors do NOT interact). Word Count: ~3000. Warnings: Pretty tame beginnings tbh but future warnings for Stalking, Toxic relationships and power imbalances, Blood and gore, Devious little fruity men, and Reader-insert being a terrible enough person that it sort of balances it all out?? Idk. Yes there will be weird vampire sex. Read it on Ao3 Here!

__________________________________

It’s in early Summer that you meet him for the first time. 

One sentence typed and re-written with two pages to fill and three proseccos nursed over some amount of hours. A hot afternoon is well on its way to becoming a balmy night, and daytime family shoppers along the tight, sloping roads in Volterra have condensed into young adults seeking whatever might come close to resembling nightlife amidst alfresco dining areas and tall views of rolling hills and old brick- oh, that’s not a bad line.

Rapping the enter key, you make room for the statement. 

Whatever might come close to resembling nightlife amidst alfresco dining areas and tall views of-

A pang of revulsion hits.

Fuck it. It’s shit. 

You slam on the backspace, offsetting just a little of the temptation to hurl your laptop over the retaining wall and onto the road below. 

“Top-up?”

Panic jolts down your spine at the black suit of a hospitality worker in your periphery. You haven’t bought anything since the sun was up. Not since the first prosecco, and the complimentary bread basket, and the second prosecco, and the complimentary bread basket, and the third prosecco, and the humiliating explanation that a family-run business simply cannot keep giving you any more of Nonna’s war-time era bread baskets.

It’s not your fault that no one’s come along to pick up the tab of a pretty tourist tonight. Alcohol’s usually pretty cheap when some cashed-up slob in linen intends to use it to leverage against you later in the night. It’s getting ridiculous out here. It’s been hours, and not only have you gotten a solid zero words into your article — you’ve been squatting here with the nicest view in Volterra for long enough that you fear the staff and your fellow patrons have begun to make assumptions about you. 

You have no money left.

They can’t know you have no money left.

You offer up a smile. “Just water, please.”

You’re met with a pained reflection of the look. Maybe yours is just as sad. They leave with a hurried nod, too busy serving every other table to have time to bother with your bullshit. Maybe you should just order something. Drop a precious thirty on a four-ingredient carbonara that’ll either have you hungry again in an hour or shitting your guts out for the next twenty-four. Wasteful spending, either way. There’s only a few hundred euros left, and you can’t afford to keep doing this.

Rolling hills. Just write something about rolling fucking hills and go back to the airbnb. 

Your fingers poise over the keyboard. 

“Mi scusi—“

“Just water’s fine.” You nearly snap. 

“Oh, you speak English.”

Another black suit in your periphery. Another wave of shame. You look up again, and the well-pressed suit standing before you smiles a mildly manic, overly familiar smile. “Good evening. I’m dreadfully sorry to ask, but would you mind moving on?”

He’s exceptionally pale, you observe. Perfect teeth. Wonderful hair that reminds you of some kind of animal.  

Your brow furrows. “I’m sorry?”

“Yes. That’s fine. No harm done.” The man’s already turned away from you, clicking at the boy who had yet to fetch your water. “Un'altra sedia. Per favore-“

“I’m not done sitting here.” You say.

That smile on his face strains. Just a little. 

“Well, you see,” He offers, “I like to sit here — as well as my company, and you’ve been here for—“ the smile tightens further, and you rejoice in your judgement. He feels entitled to this spot. This is his seat you’re in. 

He’s just as much of a dick about this as you are. 

“Four hours — and this is an exceptional spot to view the end of the sunset at this time of year.”

What a fucking prick. What sweet vindication. 

“Yeah.” You agree, not budging. “It seems like it.”

“Is she gone, yet?” 

Another suit approaches. This time blonde. Younger. Early-twenties perhaps, as opposed to your original assailant’s early-forties. There’s a scowl fixed to his face, exacerbated by a scoff when his gaze finds you still seated. 

 You don’t even give him the time of day, turning back to the brunette. “I’m working. You’re distracting me. I might’ve been gone already if you weren’t bothering me.”

“Oh please.” He lets out a breath of laughter. “You haven’t made a keystroke in over twenty minutes.”

“It’s called incubating.”

“A charming term for a nothing activity. Please move.”

“No.”

“You’re drawing attention.” Now it’s a hiss. 

“Good. Let me finish my article.”

Maybe if you act distressed enough, you’ll get a free pity meal.

“God.” The blonde snarls, snapping his attention behind him, to where a small pod of similarly dressed, similarly toneless people have arrived. “Forget it, Aro. We’re missing it.”

The brunette’s head whips around, as does yours, to catch the last sliver of sun disappearing behind the hills, only the reddest of remnants remaining of its aura on the horizon. Your argument carried you through the entirety of a sunset, and the man — Aro — purses his lips into that same tight smile. Over his shoulder, the blonde retreats, muttering under his breath and merging with the herd.

Seemingly victorious, your fingers hover over the keyboard again, and Aro leans down, not quite in your space. Just close enough for you to find yourself captivated by those filed-straight teeth again.

“A word to the wise —“ He says, tone hushed, pressing a hand to the table. Fingers inches from yours. “That was the Summer solstice drawing to a close, and you made us miss it-“

“I think you took care of that one yourself, actually."

He leans closer. “You’ve drawn enough eyes to protect yourself until the locals forget this, but some of us — my friend Caius, especially — are very fond of our evening routine; and some of us can hold a grudge. You’d do well to move on before the week’s end.”

You’d be happy to punch him if you weren’t thinking so hard about that free meal, so instead, you opt to flash a smile of your own. “You’d do well to eat my ass.”

There’s a pause. A tick of his brow. A tiny twitch at a corner of his mouth. Filmy eyes bore into yours, flickering minutely to your throat.

“Buonanotte. Do try to become at least conversational in Italian.” Aro’s gaze flits to the bare centimetres between your hands. He makes a point to withdraw it across the table, slowly. Like it would simply be beneath him to touch you. “What’s the saying? When in Rome?”

Then, he’s turning. Taking his leave. Shrouded in black cloth the moment he passes into his crowd of gothic friends.

Your gaze lingers on the retreating group. A subtle glance is afforded in your direction from one of the men in his company. Tall. Far too solemn for such an exciting night. 

A young man at a neighbouring table leans over to you, and you’ve spent so long looking at milky white faces at you’re nearly blinded by the hue of his sunburned face. “Ravers.” He comments. American. “Don’t mind ‘em. Probably gonna go take horse tranqs in some warehouse.”

Horse. That’s what you were trying to think of. His hair reminded you of a horse. 

“I am sorry for the commotion.” The hospitality worker returns. A glass of tap water is set down before you. “Could I offer you dinner on the house?”

…

Victory. 

You crack a grin up at your server. “Hey, what’s buonanotte mean?”

__________________________________

For such a compact place, you do not run into Aro again. Nor any of the grimly dressed people that had been in his company. 

Over the weeks spanning your stay, tourists come and go, but many of the faces in Volterra remain the same. Permanent residents remain static and likely have been so for generations. Mornings, recently, have held you in increasingly high regard; your refusal to leave their cramped community with each new brief wave of visitors bringing familiarity usually only reserved for years-old neighbours. Now you're no less annoying than a particularly entitled local.

None of whom, curiously, show any traits of albinism. Funny, considering you’d had a run in with at least half a dozen in a single night. 

“Are you now living here?” A busboy asks in the evening, passing your table (god, you love claiming that) on his way to clean another. You like this one. He’s gotten into a habit of sneaking an extra biscotti onto your saucer when you order. “How is your article?”

“It’s…” The look on your face tells enough to warrant a laugh.

“I have a cousin in Florence. Single.” He explains. “He would take one look at you and fall in love. You can marry him. Take his money. His car? Three wheels. Loser. You can do what ever you want if you marry him.”

“I’ll think about it.” You assure him, turning back to your laptop.

Huh.

Odd.

There’s a smear of black in your periphery again. 

That hasn’t happened since-

Your gaze snaps upward, meeting the eye of the rude bastard who’d made a martyr of you in front of the restaurant. Same phoney smile still plastered on his face. Something surges in your chest — fight instinct activating, readying you rip out a hunk of his hair should the situation call for it. 

You open your mouth. Preparing a scathing slew of words.

“Oh, hi.”

Aro — you recall — doesn’t reply. Not until he plucks a chair from a nearby table and sets it down across from you. At your table. He doesn’t ask. He doesn’t apologise. He just sits and watches you with his pleasant expression and his milky eyes and his horse hair. His wake wafts old paper and lint; like community library, or a darkroom, or a basement. 

Your skin runs cold. Oh fuck, is he actually making good on that threat from the other night?

“Buona—“ A gesture is extended to you. 

“—sera?”

“Very good.” He affirms with a too-animated grin. Like you’re a toddler. Bit patronising. “Going native, are you?”

“How do you mean?”

“Caffè in the evening, just like the locals do it. And you’ve been here every night for the better part of three weeks. One might say you were squatting.”

He’s been watching you. 

He’s wearing an identical suit to the one he wore last you’d encountered him. 

He’s a weirdo. You should find another stranger to cling to. Pretend to go home with them to discourage him from following more of your routine—

“Funny. I haven’t seen you.” You reply, bluntly. 

A micro expression must give your thoughts away, because his eyebrows shoot up in mock-surprise. “Oh? Oh. My friends have mentioned seeing you. I hope you don’t mind — we tend to keep an eye out for people who cross our paths. Small circles and what have you.” 

“That’s fair. You did threaten me last time we met.”

“Water under the bridge.” Aro dismisses. “Gossip gets around. People notice you staying.”

Your caution doesn’t dissipate. “Insular but curious?”

His smile widens. “Exactly! I’m Aro."

“I know. I heard one of your friends say it.” You reply, before giving your own name.

“I know.” Aro mirrors, and then fails to follow-up. Then, he moves to stand from his seat, pausing to consider something. “Care to walk with me?” 

“Give me a minute. I’m working.” 

An outright lie. You commit to typing gibberish for several minutes before closing the device and packing it away. All the while, he watches you like he’s watching a fish in a bowl.

“Upfront?” You say, standing, and he follows suit. “I carry a box cutter.”

“Wonderful.”

“Also, I choose where we go.”

He tips steepled fingers in a mockery of a bow. “Of course. Lead the way.”

Cramped as the little city may be, it’s surprisingly much harder to navigate when you’re trying to remain in the most well-lit spots. Conversation speeds up and slows with your meandering and Aro’s occasional interjection, all the while keeping a good bit of distance between you while you walk. His hands remain clasped in front of him, where you can see them. Making a show that he means you no harm. 

He probably won’t murder you tonight, you decide. 

You learn that he’s quite fond of history. That his friends are much the same. Even the ones that are very clearly children have a passion for preserving the arts and maintaining what Aro defines as ’cultural customs’.

It all sounds vague enough to be a little fucking hinky, but there’s a degree of relief that washes over you when Aro assures you they’re not funded by the Catholic church. 

He’s also a bit pretty, and you’re humble enough to admit that your brain goes smooth when you’re confronted with pretty. 

“So what is it you’ve been trying to write all week?” He eventually asks, gaze flickering to the laptop folded under your arms.

“That’s the issue.” You admit. “I haven’t really found my muse.”

“You just write about anything?” He presses.

You snort. “Wouldn’t that be nice. Right now I’m giving travel writing a whirl. Saved up a while after I finished my degree, but the longer I’m out here, the more I’m starting to realise student loans can’t really be paid off in stories.”

“Is it the stories upsetting you?” Aro frowns. “Or the loans?”

“It’s kind of fucking hard to feel inspired when all you’ve got in savings is the plane ticket home.”

“That explains all those free meals you’ve been charming everyone into.”

The heat returns to your face. He’s really been keeping an eye on you.

“Yeah — I’ve, uh—“ You keep your gaze front and centre on the road. “Sort of run out of money.”

Aro considers that for a moment. His steps slow. Then stop.

“Then, would you like a job?” He asks. 

Your brow furrows, thoughts already flicking through every possible trafficking scenario and how to stage a rebuttal, and his hand raises in defence just as you open your mouth. “You would be working with a few young friends of mine.”

You think about that. “Oh, yeah. Very…varied sense of fashion.”

“Heidi’s dress sense is the most modern of us, I assure you. She leads our public outreach, but she’s a single point of contact.” Aro explains, trailing off into thoughtful contemplation. “I like to pride myself on the diversity of our group, but things don’t move as slowly as they once did, and the internet is becoming too big a sandbox for just one voice to be heard so much lately. Perhaps you could lend a hand.”

All of Aro’s words up until that pitch have sounded pretty organic in comparison. That whole thing was rehearsed, for certain. 

“I don’t buy it.”

“Would you, if you had an allowance?”

”Well, yeah. That’s sort of what a job is.” You frown. For an apparently wealthy man, he's not great with employment terminology.

“You’d be compensated more than fairly.” He persists. “Most of us are volunteers, but if it helps put food on our tables, I’d be curious to see how successful you might be.”

He’s got you by the balls with this whole money thing, you won’t lie. It makes it hard to say no.

“What do you and those other two do, then?” You ask, referring to the men he had stuck to his side on your last meeting. Scraping through whatever you can amidst the glamour of his offer just to find something to poke holes in.

“We boss everyone around.”

Once it’s adequately clear that you’re not amused, Aro pivots, resuming his pace. “Marcus is in charge of relations. Caius keeps everyone in line, and I oversee the structure of everything we do.” He expands. “I do a lot of travelling. Talent scouting, recruitment. We’re globally spread. It’s…busy work, keeping track of everyone.”

“Sounds like you don’t have middle management.” You comment. “Why not hire me for that?”

That earns you a chuckle.

”It’s not perfect, but it’s preferable that olive branches are extended personally.”

”So you’re middle management.”

“In less grand terms, you could say I’m intuitive.” Aro explains, lingering for you for fall back into step. When you stop again, he does too. “I’m quite good at reading people.”

“An empath, are we?” You ask drily, turning your attention over the retaining wall at blackened country hills.

He doesn’t pick up on it. “How kind of you to say. No —“ He extends a well-manicured hand to you, keeping respectable distance. Just enough to demonstrate that this is an offer. Not an order. 

He’d look like kind of a jerk if you left him hanging, so you relent and offer your own.

“If I touch you, I can see your thoughts.”

Your hand stops just short of his, pulling away just as he reaches for you. “Sorry. I’m not into the whole street art thing.”

“Not to worry.” Aro assures, outstretching his fingers until the tendons flex over his knuckles. “I’d never commit such an act without your consent.”

“Yeah. I already fell for a a bracelet scam in Barcelona.” You insist. “Once bitten, twice shy. Maybe another time.”

Aro observes you for a long moment. He’s been doing a lot of that, tonight. 

“Perhaps another time.” He agrees, and the beat he takes doesn’t go unnoticed. He’s not used to being denied.

“You’re not rescinding the job offer for that, are you?” You frown.

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re friends now.” Aro replies. “Besides; if anything, if you’re sitting in my office I won’t have to worry about you taking my favourite seat outside.”

You squint at him. Unblinking. He only gives you patience in return.

“I’ll get you in contact with one of my colleagues, and one day, you’ll let me perform my party trick for you. Sound agreement?”

It’s all just a little too good to be true, and a little too weird to be charming. You attempt a sympathetic look, but it feels more like an outright wince. “I’m sorry, it’s gonna have to be a no.”

Aro’s lips purse. His fingers lock together at his front, knuckles pressing while he thinks. 

Then, he regards you with a split-second point of his finger. A final bid.

”I’ll pay for your dinner tonight.”

…

Sold.

[facts-i-just-made-up]

Where does the word "fungi" come from and why does it sound like "fun guy"?

Not just a fun guy, but a specific fun guy- Gus. Fun Gus (1887-1991) was the nickname of Gus Vanderbeatnik, for whom the entire kingdom of fungal organisms was named.

Naturally, fungi existed long before Gus, having first evolved around 1750 when several college roommates left some macaroni and cheese out for literally months and it grew a new type of bacteria, which would quickly develop mycelium and finally, fruiting bodies that we now call mushrooms. The organisms quickly spread across the globe.

Vanderbeatnik was born in 1887 in what would later become the state of Rhode Island. Educated in mycology from youth, Gus was known among mushroom foragers for his clever wits and ability to eat literally any mushroom he fund without ill effects. Thus he became a popular test subject to learn whether any mushroom was actually edible, without harm. Gus had an interesting digestive quirk- His stomach acid had an extra enzyme that could break down Hocstercorefacitbarfus, the toxin which makes some mushrooms poisonous. He thus knew when he had been poisoned as it would still make him a bit loopy, but was not hurt. This medical loopiness also made him very funny, spouting nonstop mycology jokes and social commentary, hence his name, and soon the name of the entire fungal kingdom.

Fun Gus lived to the ripe old age of 104, having analyzed over 3000 types of fungus, written numerous books on the subject, and amused thousands with his hilarious rambles under the influence of various fungi. He died in 1991 after a waterskiing accident, when one of his skis nearly impaled a rabid walrus, which in turn shot him with a uzi. He died that same day of Syphilis.