#nearly fell over in the thing trying to contain my excitment

[flo55i]

two words store.oscarpiastri SPOILER ALERT!!!!

[youngsadlesbian]

REPUTATION — wanda maximoff.

pairing: wanda maximoff x reader

summary: taylor swift is your favorite singer, and wanda finds that adorable, even if sometimes you're a bit too much of a fan.

a/n: as my old friend hannah montana used to say: this is the best of both worlds. even though it's super random, i've wanted to write a swiftie!reader x wanda for a while. i hope you like it.

word count: 1,2k

warnings: swiftie reader, that explains a lot.

The day you and Wanda Maximoff started dating was one of the happiest days of your life. Wanda was everything you could ever want in a partner—strong, kind, intelligent, and incredibly beautiful. But there was one thing she discovered about you early on that she found both endearing and endlessly amusing: you were a die-hard Taylor Swift fan.

Your love for Taylor Swift wasn't just casual admiration. No, it was an all-consuming, heart-thumping, lyric-screaming, poster-hanging, album-collecting kind of fandom. The kind that made you want to burst into song at random moments, quote lyrics in everyday conversations, and plan your life around album releases and concert dates.

Wanda found it adorable. The other Avengers, however, found it hilarious.

"You're dating a Swiftie?" Tony Stark teased Wanda during one of the team's downtime sessions. "Isn't that like dating a walking, talking mixtape of heartbreak and revenge anthems?"

Wanda just laughed, shaking her head. "You have no idea, Tony."

When Taylor Swift's social media went dark, the world of Swifties plunged into chaos. Rumors flew around the internet, and fan theories grew wilder by the day. You were no exception to the frenzy. You analyzed every move, every clue, trying to decipher what Taylor was up to.

"Wanda, look at this!" you exclaimed one evening, shoving your phone in her face. "She posted three black squares on Instagram! What does it mean?"

Wanda chuckled and pulled you into her lap, wrapping her arms around you. "Maybe she's just taking a break?"

"No," you shook your head vehemently. "Taylor never does anything without a reason. This has to be leading up to something big."

As the days turned into weeks, your anticipation grew. Wanda patiently listened to every theory you had, from secret collaborations to hidden messages in old music videos. The Avengers, on the other hand, were amused by your relentless enthusiasm.

"What's the latest conspiracy theory?" Natasha asked one morning over breakfast.

"She's totally dropping a new album," you declared confidently. "It's going to be dark and edgy. I can feel it."

Months went by, and Taylor remained silent. It was torture for you. You spent countless hours on fan forums, discussing and dissecting every little detail. Wanda often found you hunched over your laptop, deep in conversation with other Swifties.

One day, you received the news you had been dreading: Taylor Swift had disappeared from the public eye completely. No more paparazzi sightings, no social media updates, nothing.

You were devastated. Wanda held you as you cried, whispering soothing words into your ear. "She'll be back, love. Just you wait."

"Why does this hurt so much?" you sobbed. "She's just an artist, right?"

Wanda kissed your forehead. "She's more than that to you. She's been a part of your life for so long. It's okay to feel this way."

It felt like an eternity, but one fateful day, Taylor Swift reemerged with a vengeance. She announced her new album, Reputation, and you were over the moon. You couldn't contain your excitement, bouncing around the room and squealing with joy.

"Wanda, she's back! She's back!" you screamed, nearly tripping over yourself in your enthusiasm.

Wanda laughed, catching you before you fell. "I told you she'd come back. What's the album called?"

"Reputation," you said breathlessly. "It sounds so fierce!"

You immediately pre-ordered the album, marking the release date on every calendar you owned. You even set reminders on your phone to ensure you didn't miss a single update.

The night Reputation was released, you transformed your living room into a Taylor Swift shrine. Posters adorned the walls, fairy lights twinkled, and snacks were meticulously arranged. Wanda helped you set up, though she couldn't stop chuckling at your elaborate preparations.

"This is serious business, Wanda," you said, pointing a finger at her. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime event."

"I can see that," she replied, grinning. "Are we ready?"

"Almost!" you said, pulling out your Taylor Swift-themed pajamas. "Now we're ready."

As the clock struck midnight, you pressed play on the first track. The opening notes of "...Ready For It?" filled the room, and you were instantly hooked. You danced around the living room, singing along at the top of your lungs. Wanda watched with a fond smile, joining in on the chorus.

By the time the album reached "Look What You Made Me Do," you were in full fangirl mode. You grabbed a hairbrush, using it as a makeshift microphone, and performed an impromptu dance routine. Wanda couldn't stop laughing, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"You're incredible," she said, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

"And you're amazing for putting up with me," you replied, pulling her into a hug.

The next day, you couldn't wait to share your excitement with the rest of the Avengers. You burst into the common room, blasting Reputation from your phone.

"Guys, you have to listen to this!" you shouted, earning amused looks from your teammates.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Oh great, more Taylor Swift. Just what we needed."

But as the songs played, even the most skeptical Avengers found themselves tapping their feet and nodding along. Natasha smirked. "I have to admit, it's pretty catchy."

Clint grinned. "I think we found our new workout playlist."

Steve, ever the gentleman, smiled at you. "I'm glad you're happy."

Wanda squeezed your hand, beaming with pride. "Told you they'd come around."

A few weeks later, Taylor Swift announced her Reputation stadium tour, and you lost your mind. You immediately began planning how to secure tickets, setting multiple alarms and enlisting Wanda's help.

The morning of the ticket sale, you were a bundle of nerves. "What if we don't get tickets? What if the site crashes?"

Wanda placed a calming hand on your shoulder. "We'll get them. Just breathe."

When the clock struck 10 AM, you and Wanda refreshed the ticketing site furiously. Minutes felt like hours, but finally, you managed to secure two tickets. You screamed in triumph, hugging Wanda tightly.

"We did it! We're going to see Taylor Swift!" you exclaimed.

Wanda laughed, twirling you around. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

The night of the concert, you and Wanda donned your best Swiftie gear and headed to the stadium. The atmosphere was electric, with thousands of fans buzzing with anticipation.

As Taylor took the stage, you felt a rush of emotions. The opening chords of "…Ready For It?" filled the air, and you screamed along with the crowd. Wanda held your hand, her smile mirroring your own.

Throughout the concert, you danced, sang, and cried. Each song was a journey, and you cherished every moment. Wanda captured it all on her phone, knowing how much these memories meant to you.

When Taylor performed "New Year's Day," a soft, emotional ballad, you turned to Wanda with tears in your eyes. "Thank you for being here with me."

Wanda squeezed your hand. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

The days following the concert were a blur of happiness. You couldn't stop talking about the experience, reliving every song and moment. The Avengers, used to your Taylor Swift obsession by now, indulged you with patient smiles.

Wanda loved seeing you so happy. She often played Reputation in the background while you cooked dinner together or snuggled on the couch. It became your soundtrack, a reminder of the incredible night you shared.

One evening, as "Delicate" played softly, Wanda pulled you into a slow dance in the living room. You rested your head on her shoulder, feeling the warmth of her embrace.

"I love you," you whispered.

"I love you too," Wanda replied, kissing your forehead. "More than you'll ever know."

[milliesfishes]

୨ৎ⋆˚౨ৎRibbons (Act Two)౨ৎ˚⋆୨ৎ

[fem reader] contains: depression, control, mention of a past suicide attempt, angst, descriptions of an accident, panic attack pairing: coriolanus snow x fem reader author’s note: this work contains topics that may be upsetting pertaining mental health, controlling relationships, depression, and suicide. This chapter is HEAVY my loves. I put my blood, sweat, and tears (literally) into it- I hope you like it <3 𝓟𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓼��� 𝓑𝓸𝓪𝓻𝓭 𝓢𝓹𝓸𝓽𝓲𝓯𝔂 𝓟𝓵𝓪𝔂𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

Sadness is cinematic.

That was the only thing you could think as you stared at your reflection, sitting primly on the stool in front of your vanity. Every detail was preened to perfection. Your hair had been curled, your body was clothed by a lovely ivory dress that fell off your shoulders, nails manicured a deep red. You noticed with a pang that some of the things sitting on the vanity surface had a light sheen of dust over them from your time away.

Picking up a little perfume bottle, you dabbed the inside of your wrists with the scent, brushing your thumb over your neck. Leaning forward and putting the bottle down, you smoothed your hair, tucking it behind your ears. Fastening a pearl to each lobe, you sat back, trying to be satisfied with the image before you.

You were a long way from the woman who'd nearly drowned herself in her bath. But you were still a shell of the happy bride posing for picture and clinging to her husband's arm.

Both these women seemed to float like ghosts over your shoulder, such clear definitions of your life back then. There was no spirit for the future. Hauntings are composed only of what's past.

Sometimes you wondered if that was what you were to your husband. Merely a reminder, a responsibility of something long dead. If he loved you, why hadn't he let you leave the house for weeks? Why hadn't he wished to show you off like before, but this time as the First Lady to his President.

Your excitement to support him had been doused like torrential rain to a wildfire when instead of galas and dinners you were met with empty hallways and closed doors. In this sense, you thought he did not love you.

But on the other hand, he'd pulled you from the bathtub, done everything he could to make you better. The way he looked at you...even the best of actors couldn't imitate it. And Coriolanus was many things, but he wasn't a liar. When he said he loved you he meant it.

Every one of these contrasting thoughts battled in your mind, making you close your eyes in frustration. He was an unsolvable puzzle, a living maze that twisted in a different direction when you thought you were getting close to the end.

The door clicked open, and you opened your eyes, watching Coriolanus in the mirror as he entered. He was darkly handsome in a maroon suit, red wool coat over it to sheath him from the chill of the winter.

He stopped just behind you, hand coming to your shoulder. The warmth of it always stunned you for some unknown reason. Perhaps you thought his surname determined his body temperature. Coriolanus rubbed your shoulder, meeting your eyes in the mirror. "You look beautiful, darling."

"Thank you," you said softly, beginning to tidy a few things on your vanity so you wouldn't have to look at him. Nail polish, hairbrush, makeup, perfume-

"We don't have to go tonight," he said as he watched your anxious movements. "If it's too much-"

"No." You turned, looking into his eyes. "No. I want to go. It'll be good for me."

"This dinner isn't terribly important sweetheart, if you'd rather-"

Standing up, you went to find your shoes, sitting at the foot of your bed and bending down to put them on. White heels with a pointed toe, fastened by a ribbon like ballet shoes. Maybe it was a little much for a dinner, but this was your first ever appearance as the First Lady. Your first time out of the grounds, not counting your seaside recovery, in months. It was important to you that your appearance was impeccable.

Shakily, you attempted to lace the ribbon up, but your hands faltered. Noticing this, Coriolanus knelt at your feet, stopping your motions. He gave you a look, his steady fingers tying a perfect bow nearly effortlessly, then doing the same with the other.

He kissed your ankle once he was finished, drawing himself up once again. You whispered a quiet thank you.

Coriolanus smoothed his hand over your leg tenderly as he studied you. He'd always been able to read you too well, his blue eyes staring into your soul. Rubbing his hand over your knee, he said quietly, "I'm proud of you. For wanting to do this. And for feeling ready."

You didn't say anything, only searching his eyes with a quiet desperation. He was giving you whiplash. Though your heart was soaring at his words, it was soured slightly by your inner doubts.

Reaching into the pocket of his coat, Coriolanus pulled out a small box, setting it in your hands. "Open this, darling."

Hesitantly, you lifted the hinged lid, revealing a necklace of pearls, several strands layered over each other. You gasped slightly, fingering one and looking up at him. "You shouldn't have."

"I'm glad I did," he countered, removing the necklace from the box and sitting on the bed next to you. He pushed your hair over one shoulder, smoothly fastening the creamy pearls around your neck. Then he brushed your locks back behind you, smoothing them. Lifting a hand up, you touched a strand, roving your hand over the surface of the little white spheres.

Coriolanus kissed your head, tracing a part of your shoulder with his finger. "Beautiful," he murmured, and you leaned back into him, sighing softly. Already you were overwhelmed. Already you wanted to go home though you were already there. But a bigger part of you wanted to do this, wanted to prove to both your husband and the public that you weren't as fragile as they thought.

Forget everything the media said about your unwanted disappearance. Forget the bloody mess of the past. You straightened, getting to your feet and running your hands carefully over your dress.

Tonight, you would be perfect. Everyone, even your husband, be damned.

The ride here had filled you with apprehension, although you weren't sure why.

This was a dinner, not a gala. It certainly wasn't as high stakes as some of the things you could have gone to. And yet there you were, feeling as though there wasn't enough air in the car, hand reaching out for Coriolanus' as you did your best to take deep breaths. He said nothing, simply switching you hands so he could wrap his arm around your shoulders, fingers settling on your head and pressing it to him.

Once you were away from the vehicle you felt better, casting a backwards look at it in confusion. It was a strange thing, how quickly your fear had disintegrated. There had been nothing wrong with the ride itself. But still, when you looked at the car you felt a pang of dread, though it seemed to come from nowhere.

Coriolanus had tugged on your arm, giving you a careful smile and nodding toward the mansion. "Come now, darling. Mustn't dally."

Hand nestled in the crook of Coriolanus' arm, you took a deep breath and began to ascend the stairs to the home where the dinner was being hosted. It was a grand, sprawling mansion, belonging to one of your husband's prominent colleagues. It had all been so intimidating upon first glance, but you still held your head high, determination never failing.

A staff member greeted you, taking Coriolanus' red wool coat and your white fur one and escorting you to the dining room. You tried to ignore the look of surprise in his eyes at the sight of you.

"Mr. President, Mrs. Snow," your host greeted, shaking Coriolanus' hand. "A pleasure to see you both." When he emphasized the word you made sure to smile.

His wife kissed you on both cheeks, complimenting your dress. "It's lovely to see you out and about after..." she trailed off, then composed herself with a nervous little laugh, eyeing your husband. "Anyways, we're happy to have you. Please, sit."

Coriolanus pulled out your chair and made sure you sat before he did. You were engaged in conversation with the woman to your left before you knew it, as she asked where your shoes were from and who'd worked on your nails.

It felt nearly alien to be swept up once again in this world after your isolation. Nothing had changed, it seemed. Talk was filled with the same old things, the same old scandals, the same old people. It was so easy to tune out.

As the party commenced and the courses were brought out, the buzz of chatter flowed like the champagne in everyone's glasses. You could feel everyone's eyes on you at different intervals. Though you couldn't make it out, it was glaringly obvious people were talking about you. This was a space that consumed gossip like water. They'd read the media's scathing remarks, heard and spread the rumors. Of course your reappearance would cause a ripple in the pond of the Capitol.

Taking a bite of your dinner, you surveyed the scene, trying to focus on other things. The artwork hanging on the wall directly across from where you sat was lovely.

As you studied it, you recognized the woman lying sprawled out in a white dress surrounded by water lilies as Hamlet's doomed lover; Ophelia. During your time at the seaside, you'd read Shakespeare's entire works front to back. The look on her face was accepting, serene. Tilting your head as you studied the piece, you couldn't help but relate darkly. A woman circumstantially surrounded by water who did nothing to pull herself out.

Looking at Coriolanus, you wondered if he realized the irony too. But he was deep in conversation with a gentleman about something you didn't understand. A little dejectedly, you turned back to the painting.

All the men in Ophelia's life had tried to control her too, you recalled. And in the end, she hadn't known if she could trust the man she loved either. Everything around you seemed to speed up as the soundtrack of your ringing ears and pounding heart blinded you. You were sitting still, the only one immune to the passing of time.

Staring at the art, you felt as though you were looking at your reflection in your bedroom once again. The ghost of yourself was now in a gilded frame, encased in time, created centuries before you. It was frustrating to know that the same emotions had always existed. And after all this time, nobody had figured out how to fix them. It's often the things you wish to burn that are timeless.

A hand on your arm was a bucket of cold water, bringing you back to life. Tensing slightly, you faced Coriolanus once again. His brow furrowed concernedly, eyes moving to the painting, and then falling back on yours. "Darling?"

You could feel other eyes on you. Uncomfortably, you shifted, pasting a smile on your face. "Yes?"

He watched you for a moment, and you could practically hear his thoughts. Rubbing his thumb over your arm, he exhaled quietly before asking, "Is everything alright?"

Your nod was instantaneous, and you reached your other hand over, squeezing his fingers. "Yes. Simply lost in thought."

Eyeing you warily, he didn't look entirely convinced. You held your breath, praying he would take the bait. Right now, you really didn't want to explain your train of thought. It was too intimate for even the man you loved.

Finally, he nodded, patting your arm and looking back at the person with whom he'd been speaking with previously.

The night dragged out longer than you would have liked, guests lingering long past dessert just drinking and gossiping. You were quiet, at Coriolanus' side as he conversed with an endless sea of people. Candles lit the space, and your eyes were glued to their flickering.

Feeling someone's eyes on you, you looked up, the older lady who was the culprit looking away immediately. She whispered something to her companion, eyes darting back to you every now and then.

Suddenly, the atmosphere was suffocating. You felt panicked, senses hazy except for the quickening disquietude mounting in your chest. Whispering a hurried excuse to Coriolanus, you separated from him before he responded. The room was nearly tilting sideways as you did your best to exit gracefully, the candles you'd once admired too bright. You were in a different dimension than everyone else, the rules of time inapplicable.

Nearly tripping through the throng, you caught shreds of conversation; pieces from different boxes that formed a whole picture.

"...spending all her husband's money..."

"No, she's clearly ill. Haven't you seen how pale she is?"

"...if I were First Lady..."

"...obviously something wrong with her..."

Shutting the washroom door behind you and locking it, you leaned your head against it, steadying both yourself and your breathing. The quiet was a welcome thing, greeting you like an old friend. Surprisingly, you noticed as you glanced at your reflection, your outward appearance didn't match your inner turmoil. The most you could see was the melancholy in your eyes.

Get it together, you chastised yourself, smoothing your dress and attempting to straighten your flawless image. Maybe if you were more perfect on the outside, your insides would come to match. It was a childish thought, but you held it like a lifeline.

Closing your eyes, you tried to dull the feeling. Soon you would go home- no. The thought of getting in the car sent another wave of anxiety through you, and you frustratedly balled your fists. Why were you so frightened now? There was no reason to be, especially if you were headed back to safety. Was it because your home had been your prison once before? Or because you dreaded talking to Coriolanus about the evening? Your mind raced with questions you didn't have a prayer of answering.

You weren't any calmer when you exited. The only reason you left the space was because you were worried someone would come after you.

Rejoining Coriolanus, he kissed your temple as a hello and resumed talking. And then your world was back in slow motion. And you once again wondered how anybody could be content living this way.

Not too long later, he noticed your fatigue and asked if you wanted to leave. You gratefully accepted, weary of judgmental looks and comments that you wished were secret, the way their passers intended.

He helped you into your coat, wrapping the fur around your shoulders as you shivered slightly. Guiding you outside, Coriolanus rubbed your arms to try and keep you warm as you carefully descended the stairs. The second you saw the car you stopped, frozen in place.

It almost hurt, the amount of resistance you felt in you. Things that were almost memories flashed through your head like television static, and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to prevent the oncoming headache. Coupled with your reluctance to get in the car, it was a tiring existence.

Coriolanus frowned, his hand on the side of your waist stroking up and down slightly. "Darling?"

Your lips parted slightly as a wave of deja vu washed over you. Had you done this before? It didn't feel like a good memory either. It was one you wanted to run away from, one that made you want to pull the covers over your head.

But you didn't know what it was. And then you remembered where you were: standing on the steps of a mansion in the middle of winter, snow beginning to fall from the darkened sky. Refocusing on Coriolanus, you shook your head, trying to snap out of the trance. "My apologies." Taking his hand, you resumed your journey to the car, this time ignoring the apprehension that made your spine taut.

The car started, exiting the golden gates and you found yourself squeezing your husband's hand. Why am I panicking? Everything's fine. You tried repeating a phrase in your head. I'm safe. I'm safe. The action did not make you feel it.

Adjusting the rearview mirror a little way down the road, the driver said, "There's someone following us. Paparazzi, likely."

Coriolanus turned, and you did too. Indeed, there was a black car trailing behind, and when you squinted, you could see a camera flash from just outside the passenger seat window.

The driver looked back briefly, giving you a kind smile. "Not to worry. I'll be able to lose them soon enough."

You smiled back a little, but still shrunk down in your seat, even though the windows were tinted. It was just your luck. Of course the media had found out. Somehow, they always did.

Coriolanus wrapped his arm around your waist, sensing your discomfort. He kissed your hair gently. "It's alright, sweetheart. We'll be home in no time."

As the driver wound the streets of the Capitol, the black car kept up. You could feel your husband's anxiety next to you as he asked sharply, "Can you go any faster?"

"The storm's making it harder," the driver said apologetically. Indeed, the snow was falling faster, fat flakes melting on the windows and coating the street.

You bunched your coat tighter around yourself, shivering. Those static memories were making an appearance again, taking up the forefront of your mind. They were so misty, and you couldn't quite see them. Assuming they were from your time locked away, you ignored them as best you could, trying to breathe deep and find something happy to focus on.

Now the car was moving faster, tensing your body even more. Clenching your nails so tight into your palm you thought you felt blood, you shut your eyes and pleaded with yourself for control.

The snow beneath the tires was becoming treacherous as the driver attempted to lose the car behind. He twisted through alleys and backroads, but the tailer wouldn't let up. Your agitation was now a tower, teetering precariously inside, threatening to tip. Coriolanus was looking behind him and back at the front over and over again, saying things in angry tones that you couldn't make out through the dull roar fanning your ears.

In a precarious move, the driver made a split-second decision and swerved into an alley, the thickness of the storm concealing the car from the following one. It hit a patch of ice, sending the vehicle sliding. You cried out, diving into Coriolanus' chest and gripping him by the coat. His arms wrapped around you as a sound of fear wrenched from his lips, the driver's shouts joining the mix.

The car skidded to a stop suddenly, bracing on a pile of snow. The world was still for a moment after, and Coriolanus' breaths slowly evened out. He held you for a moment, as if making sure it was really over. The driver looked back, asking urgently if you both were okay. Affirming this absentmindedly, Coriolanus stroked your hair, trying to get you to lift your face from his chest, to loosen your grips.

"Sweetheart...sweetheart, are you hurt?" His voice was distressed, his touch purposeful. "Darling...?"

You weren't hurt. But there, face buried in his body, you were falling headfirst through into the depths of a chasm of remembrance. Triggered by the near collision, the static memory had tuned into something crystal clear.

The night of the election.

Coriolanus shaking hands with a thousand people a thousand times.

You kissing his cheek and telling him how proud you were of all his hard work.

Him holding your face in his hands and kissing you long and deep and telling you how beautiful you were as his First Lady.

The car ride headed home, him hardly able to keep his hands off you, and you giggling and kissing him excitedly.

And then-

The screech of the brakes. Broken glass and the smell of smoke. The last thing you saw before everything went black was the blood on your dress, dying the red a darker shade of crimson.

Gasping and lifting your head, you looked around the scene. Everything was intact. You weren't bleeding. The only thing out of place was Coriolanus and the driver's concerned expressions.

Slightly disoriented, you barely heard the driver's repeated question. asking if you were okay. You nodded hazily, still punctured by what had seemingly reappeared in your head.

Assuming you were merely shaken from what had just happened, Coriolanus gave the word to keep driving. All the way home, you were shaky in his arms, terrified at your recollection.

A steady stream of questions burdened you. Was it real? It certainly felt like it was. Your heart was thundering against your chest, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. And then it hit you, the realization stabbing you like a knife.

If it was real, Coriolanus had been there. And he hadn't breathed a word about it since.

The car pulled up in front of the house, and wrenched yourself from his arms, pushing the door open and stumbling into the freezing night. Though you weren't steady on your feet, you moved forward, climbing the stairs as your mind raced. In the background, Coriolanus was calling after you, but you ignored him.

Everything was a blur as you made it upstairs to your room, your white fur coat falling off one shoulder. Your hair was crowned with melting snowflakes, makeup more than likely messy.

Chest heaving, you stood still just by your bed, tears spilling over now as utter perplexion wracked your body. Now you weren't sure what was real anymore. What else was your mind keeping from you behind closed doors? Who were you if you couldn't remember anything?

Hurried footsteps made their way into your room, and you whipped around, seeing Coriolanus standing before you. His hair was slightly messy, his eyes wild with concern. Stepping forward, he held out his hands. "You-"

"On the night of the election..." you began, and he stiffened. Pointing a sleeve covered hand at him, you said in broken tones, "Were we in an accident?"

His reaction told you everything you needed to know. Eyes widening, jaw clenching, Coriolanus looked utterly dumbstruck. Here was the highest power in the land, frozen by his wife's accusation. His suicidal, sheltered wife.

Seeming to gather himself up, he gave one firm nod.

Covering your mouth with your hand as he confirmed it, you felt your tears welling up again, one spilling from your eye. Betrayal rippled through your body, tearing you at the seams. You, once a petal to his rose, were now dried up and fallen at the stem, catching every thorn on the way down.

"Why-" you choked, taking a step back and stumbling on your heels, collapsing to the floor. He immediately knelt beside you, reaching out, but you cringed away. "Why didn't you tell me-?"

"Darling," Coriolanus said evenly, his voice steady. "Calm down-"

"No! You've kept this from me, never even said a word about it!" Your voice was raised, your words tripping over each other through your tears. "I deserve to know-"

"It was a rebel planned attack," he snapped, taking you by the elbows and holding you there, looking straight into your eyes. The blue of them pierced you, and you stopped struggling. "On the way home from the party a car hit us. They never caught the person who did it."

Your chest was still heaving, your body stiffened. As tears rained down your cheeks in a never-ending torrent, you whispered, "Why didn't you tell me?"He was silent a moment, seeming a hundred years old then. The memories he was recalling must have been deafening.

But he lifted his chin slightly, eyes never leaving yours. "You were injured. Badly. And all I could do was sit there with you bleeding out in my lap while someone called for help. I gave strict orders to keep everything private. Since we were on a smaller road, nobody else saw it happen." Coriolanus took in a breath. "I hardly cared about myself. The doctors said afterwards that you were within an inch of your life."

You stared at him, chest nearly collapsing at the weight of his story. Just when you were about to say he hadn't answered your question, he continued, eyes darkening. "Once they confirmed you would live, I promised myself that I would never let anything like that happen to you again. That I would keep you safe. And so I-"

"That's why you wouldn't let me leave," you whispered, eyes widening as it all pieced together. He hadn't been ashamed of you. He hadn't been having an affair. Your hand flew up to the pearls around your neck, gripping a strand. "You...you..."

"You didn't remember a thing when you woke up," Coriolanus uttered, his words as reverent as a prayer. "A response to the trauma, they said."

"And you wouldn't tell me?" you asked tearfully in disbelief. "Maybe if you had explained...all I ever wanted was an answer. I was desperately in love with you...I would have done whatever you asked if you just-"

"When I found you that day, drowning in the bathtub," he began, his tone icy. "I knew I'd made a horrible mistake." Coriolanus' hand lifted to touch your cheek, and you let him, still motionless. "I was so blinded by fear that you suffered for it, the very opposite of what I wanted."

He swallowed, closing his eyes briefly. "And the entire time you were away at the seaside, I was worried. Worried the rebels would find you and hurt you. When I received word that your treatment was over and you were coming own, it doubled. The thought of you...being attacked by someone when I wasn't there..." he trailed off, opting to look into your eyes instead of finishing.

You were nothing short of floored. An envelope of everything he had kept a secret from you had been ripped open, the contents overwhelming you. The memories, emotions, information...whatever you'd thought before, the opposite was true.

And you both loved and hated him because he had never lied to you. Not really. "To keep you safe."

You thought you knew what drowning felt like. Yet here you were, struggling under the weight of everything that had been revealed. Unable to manage more than a weakened series of broken cries, you bowed your head, body trembling.

It explained everything. Your panic over getting in the car, your headaches, the distortion of memories. It explained his overprotective nature that drove you to the point of suicide, and you despised that it was something that could be reasoned.

This whole series of events in your life had been previously scattered, but now they were connected, held together like a chain. It choked you, clawed at your neck. You gave a strangled cry and pulled, forgetting that you held your necklace between your fingers.

Pearls rained down on the floor, bouncing and scattering across the surface of your room. Your eyes widened in horror as you realized what you'd done, looking down at the broken necklace in your hand, few pearls clinging to the string like teardrops. A few loose ones were pooled in your skirt, and you buried your face in your hands, sobbing for all you were worth.

You cried for your past, present and future, cried for all that had been lost. You cursed the rebels who'd triggered this whole thing, lamented the woman you'd once been, tried to grasp at her dust and become her again.

A pair of arms enveloped you, and you buried yourself into Coriolanus, your only comfort. He hushed you, rocking your limp, exhausted body back and forth.

A teardrop fell into your hair, and that was when you realized how badly hurt he was too. He'd practically imprisoned you, but he'd also had to watch the one he loved struggle. He'd held you when you were dying, sent you away when all he wanted was to hold you close.

In his own painfully misguided way, he'd tried to fix everything. Merely a man, he attempted to play a god. No matter how much power he possessed, he could not stop the inevitable.

It was miraculous how you'd ever doubted he loved you.

As of now, you weren't exactly sure who he loved. Was it the bride, the ghost, or the unknown? If you looked in the mirror right now, you were certain it would crack, the looking-glass unprepared for the mess of selves beneath your appearance. How painful it must have been for him- to watch you suffer in every possible way. A mass of guilt engulfed you.

"I'm...sorry," you wept into his chest, "I'm sorry...about...about..." Lifting your head, your eyes found his again, and you were disarmed. His expression was intense. Pained. Those blue irises, that reminded you of your beloved ocean. Breaths shaky, all you could manage was, "...about...the pearls." I'm sorry for being this way.

Coriolanus didn't spare a glace to the broken necklace. Instead, he settled his hands on your face, kissing your forehead with the lightest of touches. Pulling back, he muttered, "We'll get you new ones, sweetheart." You have nothing to be sorry for.

You crumpled again, buried back in his arms like it was your haven. For all the horrible things that had happened, you were helpless to the feeling that weakened the strongest of people.

Heaven help the fool who falls in love. For all that had occurred, you were devoted to him. And it was ruining your life.

𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝓐𝓬𝓽 | 𝓝𝓮𝔁𝓽 𝓐𝓬𝓽

𝓽𝓪𝓰: @kellielovesmovies

[billiethepumpkin]

Fantasy Coming True

Kinktober 8th (Late)

Warnings: Rated X. This content is intended for those ages 18 years and older. If you are a minor, do not interact.

Contains: Female reader. Soft dom reader. Jerking off. Handjob. Pussyjob. Male ejaculation. Teasing.

Author's Note: All characters are written to be aged 18 years or older because I am an old fuck :)

It was late. 

It was very late, in fact, when Denki walked through the door of the apartment that you shared. He’d been away for multiple nights, working hard to crack a case in a different city. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you. He had called you every night, but it wasn’t nearly the same as being near you, touching you, holding you.. He knew how late it was. But for some reason he thought there might be a chance that you were awake, waiting for him, the way he was waiting for you. 

He had let you know he was coming home today, right? Yeah, he specifically remembered the phone call. “Hey, baby!” he had said. “It’s gonna be late tonight, but I’m finally gonna get to come home.” And you were so excited! You couldn’t stop smiling the rest of the night as you did your daily chores.

But now, the apartment was dark, except for the small night lights you insisted on keeping in every room. 

When the door locked shut behind him, Denki finally let all his walls down. He didn’t realize how tired his body was until he set his duffle bag down next to the door, shoulders slumping and lungs sighing heavily. He trudged to your shared bedroom, desperate just to see you. 

When the bedroom door swung open, Denki saw you, the way you always slept. You were curled up under a blanket, the television flickering different colors over your body. You were breathing steadily, and Denki couldn’t help but smile as he watched you for a moment. That’s my girl, he thought. 

Denki carefully took off his clothes, trying hard not to wake you up, and he slipped into his spot on the bed next to you. The sheets were cool and comforting over his body, and he sighed as he fell into his own bed.

That was when he smelled you.

It couldn’t have been long that you were asleep. Your hair was still wet from your shower. He could still smell your shampoo, the one he loved so much because it smelled like summer. Denki had missed that smell, the scent of you thoroughly coating him in love. Had you actually tried to stay up for him? Maybe you had stayed awake as long as you could, and eventually, you just gave up.

Then another thought crossed his mind. 

For some reason, he couldn’t stop thinking about the first time you had showered together. You had joined him in the shower after a long day of work for the both of you. You had washed his hair with your shampoo, your naked body pressed against his. You had gently kissed his neck and shoulders as you rinsed it out. Denki had thought, this must truly be paradise. 

And now, he felt a warmth creep over his cheeks and ears as the memory of his own personal heaven washed over him and sprang his arousal to life. Kaminari breathed deeply as he remembered the things that came after. You, sitting on your knees in front of him. Your fist wrapped around the base of his cock. Your soft lips gliding over the shaft.

Kaminari took another glimpse at you. Your back was bare. He lifted the covers to get a better look, and he saw your bare ass cheeks. You weren’t wearing anything. Oh, god, you were trying to kill him, weren’t you? You were trying to make him so hard and so needy that he combusted, huh? Were you waiting here naked for him? Kaminari was trying desperately to put the pieces together, but he just couldn’t. He had other things to think about, his cock twitching in his boxers as he involuntarily ground against the fabric. His face grew warmer, more and more red, and he knew that he wasn’t going to be able to wait.

Denki swallowed hard. What was he supposed to do? His cock was aching just from the thought of you. There was no way that this could wait until morning. If he didn’t do something about it, he was never going to be able to sleep. 

So he took his cock out and started to stroke himself. He moved slowly at first, hoping that you wouldn’t wake up. But then he had a completely different thought. What if you did wake up? He knew you wouldn’t be mad. This had happened before. You had just taken his cock in your hand for him and whispered sweet nothings in his ear until his cum dribbled over your fingertips and onto his belly. 

But what would you do this time? You hadn’t seen Kaminari in days. Maybe you’d missed him enough that you’d take him in your mouth this time. Or maybe you’d just get up and let him slide into you, and maybe you’d ride him until he finished in your warm, wet little pussy.

Yeah, that’s what you would do, he thought. 

Thoughts just like that swam around in his mind. He was desperate for you, for some kind of relief. Kaminari held his breath as much as possible, trying to trap his moans and sighs inside his body. His eyes pinched shut, he moved his hand faster and faster, trying to find some kind of relief for the way his body craved you. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that this wouldn’t be enough, that he was still going to be so desperate just for you. 

And, as if on command, you rolled over to face him, and your hand slid up his thigh and over the base of his cock. “Hi, baby,” you cooed in his ear. You stroked him slowly, much slower than he had been stroking himself. “Missed you,” you whispered, pressing a kiss on his neck, just below his ear. Denki was so viscerally aware of every sensation you gave him. Your gorgeous body was pressed up against his. Your lips were so soft, and your breath was warm on his neck. Goddamnit, please don’t stop, he thought.

He couldn’t even respond to your sentiments. Kaminari was so in shock, so surprised that his fantasy was coming true before his very eyes. Wait a minute, he thought. You didn’t seem very sleep-driven at all. Were you awake this whole time? Just waiting for him to come home and see what he did? He didn’t care. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t find any words to talk to you as your hand slid over his shaft. 

Smoothly, as if you hadn’t been sleeping at all, you swung a leg over him and straddled him. Denki’s cock rested against his belly as you hovered over him. “Did you miss me, too?” you asked, pressing more kisses to his cheeks, his neck, his collarbone. 

“God, yes,” he finally answered, his hands rubbing over your thighs and grabbing your hips. He could feel your pussy lips gliding over his cock, but not allowing him to enter just yet. You were so wet already. How long had you been awake before you touched him? Had you been awake this entire time, feeling the bed shake and listening to him sigh?

Kaminari softly ground himself against you, feeling your slick on his member. He couldn’t help but whimper underneath you, feeling you slide over him so easily. If he could just get into the right position, he could just thrust up into you. And Denki needed it, desperately squirming to try and shove his cock into your pussy. 

You started grinding against him faster, though. “I know what you want,” you said into his ear  when you sped up. “But I think you can cum just like this, can’t you Denki?”

Kaminari couldn’t help but whine when you said that. He probably could. He knew he could. He could feel his balls getting tighter and tighter, his pleasure swarming his entire body. But he could smell your slick from where he laid, and every single touch just felt so fucking good. He wanted more. He needed more. Denki answered with a negative shake of the head. 

“Hmm,” you hummed. “I could stop,” you threatened, slowing your movements almost to nothing. “I don’t have to make you cum,” you teased. 

“No, please,” Denki said. “I just want your pussy. Please.”

You smiled, continuing to grind on his cock. You could feel his length between your pussy lips, rubbing over your clit. But you were focused on him.

“But you have my pussy, baby,” you teased, pressing yourself down onto him to put more pressure on his dick. “It’s right here. And I think it’s about to make you cum,” you said. And you were right. Denki was holding back as much as possible, but he didn’t know how long he could hold out. He needed to cum. He couldn’t stop himself anymore. No matter how badly he wanted to flip you over and fuck you until you couldn’t walk. No matter how badly he wanted to cum inside you and make the ultimate claim over your body. Kaminari was going to cum, whether he wanted to or not. 

With a whimper and a moan, you could feel Denki’s cum leaking from his cock, dribbling onto his belly and being spread onto yours. “That’s it, baby,” you cooed, grinding on him to ride out his orgasm. And god it felt so good, Denki thought. Even after just a couple of days, he had been so much more pent up than he even realized.

You pressed the sweetest, gentlest kisses over Denki’s face. He couldn’t help but smile, especially when you pressed a longer kiss to his lips and laid down on his chest. “Feel better?” you asked, your warm breath grazing along his jawbone. 

“Mhm,” Denki hummed, feeling sleep wash over him. 

You couldn’t help but giggle as you rolled off of him. “Goodnight, baby,” you whispered. 

He was already asleep.

This work was written by Abigail "Billie" Rothenberger. Please do not copy this work on Tumblr or any other platform.

[lenaisagirl]

Pomni X Ragatha, but again

I've done nothing but write tadc fan fiction for like four days. I have a massive story I'm trying to work on, but I couldn't contain my feels for ragatha and pomni so... I ended up caving and writing gayer fluff to tide myself over. Posting it here in case someone likes it :3

Pomni and Ragatha sat on a small rock overlooking the cliff near the digital lake. Caine had left the characters to their own devices for a few days, and the two took to taking picnics in the forest, since they had an excess of free time. The food didn’t look great, nor taste that vibrant, but it was the company that mattered most. In the week they had known each other for, the bond formed into a fast friendship as the two became nearly inseparable.  

Staring at the piece of bread in her gloved hands, Pomni looked out over the cliffside, and then to Ragatha. A picnic basket sat beside the rock, complete with red checkered lining and a few loaves of low-poly bread. Out over the cliffside the night-time half of the skybox wrapped around them, complete with hand-drawn stars and the moon that hung somewhere behind them. Secluding them was the simple forested area that made the shore of Caine’s digital lake. 

“You know... I guess it isn’t too bad here.” The words came as a surprise to Ragatha. Setting down her own snack, she turned toward Pomni and raised an eyebrow. 

“Really? Newbies usually hate it here.” Agreeing, Pomni nodded. Her gaze fell toward the grass as she contemplated her next words.  

“Sure - I mean – I did. Still think I’d rather be out of here... But this.” To add emphasis, she gestured around the immediate area.  

“This... isn’t so bad. You’re not so bad- er people here aren’t so bad - I mean!” Her tone of voice had grown significantly less anxious over the past few days. Despite her progress, the signature neuroticisms shined through. This was especially evident in her conversations with Ragatha.  

“Awh – thanks, new stuff.” When Ragatha blushed, the fabric didn’t change color so much as the air around her cheeks vaguely red-shifted in color. Pomni’s blush, however, was obvious. The bright red makeup on her face shaded an ever-deepening red. Looking away from Ragatha, Pomni held the pause in the conversation for a few moments.  

“Do you... think we’ll ever get out?” Kicking her feet a few times, Pomni absent-mindedly tossed her piece of bread to the ground.  

“I... don’t know, Pomni. I don’t like to think about it much. You saw what happened to Kaufmo, right? That’s the terrible thing that happens when you run around chasing an impossible goal.” Rubbing the back of her head, Ragatha frowned and looked off to the side. Just thinking about the subject had a sigh escaping her lips. 

“But... I can’t just give up! I mean- we can’t give up!” Pomni’s fists clenched slightly as she flashed a determined look at Ragatha. Opening her mouth and holding up a hand, Ragatha seemed just about to say something. Giving up on that, Ragatha relented with a sigh.  

“Alright, new stuff. Here’s what we’ll do. You can run along all you want. I’ll be right behind you. Make sure you don’t... you know.” With emphasis to her statement, Ragatha made a circle with her finger next to her head in a universal ‘crazy’ gesture.   

“R-really? You’ll help me? Just like that?” Holding her fists up to her chest in excitement, Pomni’s pinwheel eyes seemed to sparkle.  

“Sure! And when you’re all tuckered out, I’ll still be here for you. Not like there’s all that much to do here anyways.” Giggling slightly after she spoke, Ragatha shrugged. Once more, the two found themselves in silence, looking out into the scribbled starscape. Over the next couple of minutes, Pomni tried desperately to get her ever racing heart under control. No matter how hard she tried though, she just couldn’t stop thinking about the girl beside her.  

“Y-you really are amazing, you know?” Though it might’ve been a struggle to get the words out, she was glad she did. Ragatha needed to know how she felt. Even if she was positive about it wanting to say this, Pomni’s fast-beating heart did little to help her train of thought. 

“You’re sweet too, Pomni.” In contrast to the emotional wreck of a jester, Ragatha seemed relatively calm. Her emotional calm was contagious, helping Pomni to stabilize somewhat. That’s not to say she wasn’t affected. Avoiding eye contact, the gentle red glow grew a little deeper around her cheeks.   “No... Really! You talk to me about my problems, forgave me for leaving you. You’re so funny and kind and sweet and – and.” Unable to continue her sentence, she just fidgeted slightly with her hands and looked downward. Undeterred, Ragatha turned her body towards Pomni and tilted forward ever so slightly.  

“I like you too, Pomni” In her voice was a genuine sincerity. Although she wasn’t entirely sure, Pomni thought she got the connotation and her body shivered with digital artifacting at the thought.  

“I-I-I-I uh. You – what?” Ragatha chuckled at Pomni’s stammering. Just a bit closer now, Ragatha’s voice softened to a kind and nurturing whisper. 

“Hey Pomni?” 

“Y-yeah?” She whispered back, barely audible. 

“Is it alright if I kiss you?” 

Eyes widening, Pomni attempted to form a reply. Failing in that respect, she settled for a curt nod instead. Without another word, the two closed their eyes as Ragatha leaned in to cross the gap between their faces. Such close proximity gave Pomni tingles throughout her body as she anticipated the meeting of their bodies. 

Ragatha had always felt real to Pomni. As real and warm as someone beneath a simple cloth shirt would feel. Though it might’ve been a bit weird to kiss a cloth mouth, all the same warmness and caring was behind it as any other kiss. Although it only lasted a few moments, the pure calm of the moment washed away any fears she had about the Digital Circus. Maybe she couldn’t go home, but at least she could have Ragatha. A few seconds after the kiss started, the two separated.  

“C-can... Can we do that again please.” It wasn't even voluntary. The words just fell out of Pomni’s mouth in rapid succession. 

“Sure, Pomni.” 

[thechaoticdruid]

[Eat Your Heart!]

(This Bites: Valentines Day special)

Pairing: Astarion x F! Chubby MC

Plot: Winnie hates Valentines Day, having never been able to celebrate it with a lover before, but now that she has Astarion perhaps it'll change?

C/W: Suggestive themes, Sexual humor, random bigoted asshole encounter, fluffy goodness.

This Bites Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four,

Winnie turned on the television and internally groaned as she noticed a commercial come on. It was one advertising chocolates for her least favorite holiday. Valentine’s Day. Or as Winnie liked to call it Singles Awareness Day.

“God, I hate couples.” Winnie huffed a bit, glaring at the man and woman on the screen, sharing chocolates. How dare they shove their happiness in her face! 

“Meow!” Maddie hopped up onto the bed and took her place on Winnie’s lap, gently headbutting her ribs. 

“You get me, don't you baby?” Winnie asked as she looked down at the raven-haired feline, running a hand over her little head.

“Murp!” The cat made a strange little noise in response before leaning her head into Winnie’s hand and purring.  Winnie smiled softly and rubbed the cat's head before looking over at her phone. Mom and Brian were out of town, apparently going on a romantic trip for Valentine's Day which was tomorrow. 

Stupid candy heart holiday!

Winnie looked over posts online to see what everyone was doing. Her old friends from highschool were all happy and celebrating with their spouses the selfish pricks. How dare they be happy goddamnit! Winnie huffed before noticing Becca from work had posted an update about how she was going out with some girl she met at a con tomorrow and how excited she was about it.

No Becca! Not you too!

Winnie groaned and fell back on her bed. Maddie tilted her head curiously before hopping up on Winnie’s chest and sniffing at her face. 

“Ughhh…. I need some ice cream.” The brunette-haired female picked the cat up before setting her on the side of the bed and getting up.  Winnie walked into the kitchen and opened the freezer, getting a small container of chocolate ice cream out before closing the door to the fridge. She grabbed a spoon before heading back to the bedroom. 

Winnie sat back down on her bed, trying to turn the television on something more interesting to watch as the window to her bedroom suddenly opened. Winnie nearly dropped her spoon as the silver haired vampire elf crawled inside her home. 

“J-Jesus!” Winnie cursed, “for fucks sake Astarion! No one is home but me. You can use a door!” 

“I suppose I've developed a habit of coming in this way.” He said with a little giggle at the end. Astarion had something in his hand as he shut the window behind him. A little bit of blood ran down the corner of his mouth. He'd just been out hunting and was able to drain a plethora of raccoons, possums and even a large deer to boot.   Maddie’s tail shot up and curled into a hook shape as she padded over towards Astarion, immediately rubbing against his legs with a pur. 

“Oh, hello darling,” Astarion smiled and reached down to pet the cat. “I brought you something.”

Winnie’s eyes widened in complete horror as she noticed there was a bird in his hand. A small lifeless looking bird.  He held it out to Maddie who immediately sniffed it before prodding it with her paw.  

“Astarion! You can't just bring dead animals to my cat!” Winnie freaked out, setting her snack to the side before grabbing some tissues from her table. She scooped the bird up into them.

“It's not-” Astarion tried to cut in, but Winnie opened the window, and the bird suddenly sprang to life, pecking her hand before flying out the window.  

“Fuck!” Winnie cursed.

“Oh, now look at what you've done. You've ruined my gift to our precious little pet.” 

“She's MY pet and I don't want her killing birds in the house!” Winnie hissed before rubbing her hand where she'd been pecked. 

God, I hope that thing didn't have a disease….

Winnie sighed and closed the window before getting back onto her bed and sitting. Astarion pouted before sitting on the bed next to her.

“You're awfully snappy this evening.” 

Winnie sighed, “sorry. It's this damn holiday. It always rubs me the wrong way.”  Winnie said, grabbing her ice cream and spooning some into her mouth. 

“What holiday, love?” He asked, sprawling out over the bed and laying his head on her thigh. 

“Oh right, you don't know. It's Valentine's Day. Uh…It's a holiday celebrating romance and candy people really like to sell candy on it.” Winnie said, “people usually give their lovers gifts like chocolate and flowers on it.” 

“Oh, that sounds positively dreadful!” Astarion said sarcastically.

“It is if you've been single all your life and people are rubbing their happiness in your face!” Winnie exclaimed. “I hate it.” 

“Darling, you have me now, remember? And I would be happy to join in on any romantic festivities…as long as it's with you.” Astarion smiled softly, looking up at Winnie with soft round puppy-like eyes. Winnie blushed and bit and cleared her throat.

“I-I guess I didn't think about that…I've just been single for as long as I can remember." Winnie set her ice cream to the side table.  

“Of course I haven't been able to enjoy chocolate for the past two centuries, but I'm sure you'll think of something else for us to enjoy.” Astarion smiled and laid across Winnie’s lap. Since the brunette-haired woman had begun dating courting him the two of them got a bit more comfortable with one another.  Snuggles and hugs were pretty casual now, but they still tended to catch Winnie off guard. She enjoyed them, but it still felt so weird for a man to be so affectionate with her. 

Winnie’s brother was raised the old fashion way, taught to be tough and stoic and that hugging was for sissies so needless to say he wasn't very cuddly. Her biological father wasn't the type of person you wanted touching you.  And Brian pfft…As if she'd ever hug Brian! The fucking prick.

So really, she'd only known affection from other women. And it was all platonic. This just felt so weird. It was nice, but weird. 

“Well, Valentine's Day isn't until tomorrow, but we can go out tomorrow night and do something then?” Winnie suggested.

“Sounds lovely.” Astarion hummed.

“Still, it's too bad you can't actually taste normal food. I would have gotten you a bunch of candy hearts.” Winnie smiled, leaning back a little as she experimentally ran her fingers through his soft white locks. 

“The only heart I'd find myself wanting to eat would be yours I'm afraid.” Astarion joked with a mischievous chuckle, leaning up and laying his head on Winnie’s large pillowy chest as he snuggled against her. 

“The way it speeds up just for me is so…. mouthwatering.” He purred, nuzzling against Winnie. 

“I kinda need my heart you know…” Winnie huffed with a pout.

“Just teasing, my dear.” Astarion hummed, eyes closed as he listened to the comforting sound of her heartbeat, his arms wrapped around her plush waist as he cuddled on top of her. She honestly felt so soft and cushy to the vampire.  Winnie blushed a bit, leaning back with a yawn as she ran her fingers through the vampire’s curls. 

“You just gonna sleep on me tonight?” 

“Perhaps…” 

Winnie giggled slightly, “Okay…” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day Winnie went to work as normal, leaving an Astarion alone at the house with the instructions to NOT get into any trouble. Which for most of the part he didn't. He mostly laid around, played with Maddie, hate-watched some gods awful vampire TV series, placed one of the dog’s ‘surprises’ into Brian's shoes and took a long relaxing bubble bath while using one of Winnie’s mother's facemasks. 

Winnie on the other hand spent the day stocking shelves and cleaning floors at the CornerStore. 

She had to deal with some middle aged lady who repeatedly kept asking where they kept their grills despite the fact that Winnie tried to calmly explain that they did not sell grills at the store and that she should try the Superstore across town.

It was honestly one huge stressful mess and eventually Becca had to come over and ask the woman to leave when she noticed the lady raising her voice at Winnie.

After the workday ended Winnie headed back home on her motorcycle. She had to keep her mind from wandering off to tonight's events, but it was hard! Winnie was filled with both anxiety and excitement at the prospect of being able to spend this Valentine's Day with a romantic companion.

Eventually she made it back and parked in the empty driveway of her home. The neighborhood was mostly quiet aside from the distant sounds of dogs barking and children shouting from their yards. The sun was slowly setting and soon Astarion would be able to leave the house with her. She entered her home, stretching out her arms before walking towards her room.

“Astarion, I'm home.” She called.

“Welcome back, my love.” The vampire greeted, a book in hand as he laid on her bed, wearing a black tank and grey shorts.  Winnie blinked as she noticed the book in his hands, his fingers obscured the cover, but she had a bad feeling she knew what book that was. 

“Uh…What are you reading?” Winnie asked. 

“I never pegged you to be into such scandalous literature. It appears my sweet innocent little Winnie isn't so innocent after all.” Astarion purred. Winnie quickly went over and tried to grab the book from him, her face burning bright red with embarrassment. 

“Give that here!” She shouted, but Astarion immediately got off the bed and held the book up high and out of reach. Winnie was able to see it had been a graphic novel, an erotic BL manga that she'd gotten as a gift back in her senior year of high school from one of the nerdy girls she used to be friends with.  She had only read it once…. Okay maybe twice, but that was it!

“Tut tut, you didn't ask nicely. Naughty girl. ~” 

Winnie growled in frustration.

“Give it back Astarion!” She hissed before trying to grab hold of his arm and pull it down so she could grab the book. However, she had absolutely no luck.

Do…. I suddenly have noodle arms or is he suddenly much stronger!? 

Astarion was snickering, a wide shit eating grin on his face as he kept the book out of his darling’s reach. Eventually however the two of them tumbled back onto the bed in the scuffle, Winnie grunted as she fell on top of him.  Winnie grunted and Astarion then tossed the book to the side before rolling over on top.

“Hey!” Winnie whined, “get off!” 

“Ask a bit nicer and I may consider it, sweetheart.” 

Winnie glared at him, cheeks flushing with both embarrassment and a little bit of something else as he pinned her to the bed.

“Fine…. Please…Let me up…” Winnie muttered. 

“Good girl. ~” The elf said cheekily, planting a quick peck on the female’s face. Astarion rolled over and got off of Winnie, allowing her up.

“You know, I'm only teasing about the book. I really don't care about what little fantasies get you going, darling.” He giggled before tossing the novel back at her.  

“You don't need to be an ass about it.” Winnie muttered before taking the manga and putting it away (this time somewhere different).

“If it would make you feel better, I might be willing to indulge your fantasies one day. Once you're ready of course!” 

“I…. How would you…? NEVERMIND! The sun will be down soon! And I need to get ready….We need to get ready!” Winnie stated, her face looking all pink. 

“As you wish my sweet.” Astarion smiled before glancing over to the clothes he'd had been given. 

He decided to change into some pants while Winnie went into the bathroom with a bundle of her own clothing.  Astarion dressed before looking at the black hoodie Winnie normally had him wear. The white-haired vampire rolled his eyes at it before noticing Winnie’s own jacket hung up in the closet. It was a dark purple hoodie which radiated with her scent. Astarion grabbed hold of it before sliding it on. It didn't fit quite right. It was a bit loose around the chest and waist while almost being too short for him to wear, but he couldn't help but find comfort in the smell. Lavender and cherry blossoms. It made him feel at ease. 

Winnie came out of the bathroom a few minutes later dressed in a red blouse-like shirt with a heart shaped hole over the chest and black tights which hugged smugly around her thick thighs. She was running a brush through her hair as she looked over at him. “You know my hoodie doesn't fit you right?” 

“Gods forbid you let me wear anything with a little bit of color!” Astarion pouted. 

“I'm not saying you can't borrow it…It's just. I’ll buy you your own if you want one.” Winnie offered.

“No!” Astarion said quickly, “I-mean don't bother, you probably won't be able to find another one this comfortable!” The pale elf insisted. 

Winnie sighed, “Whatever. Let's just go…Oh wait…” Winnie looked around in her dresser before taking out a black beanie. She got on her tippy toes before placing it over his head and covering his elf ears. 

“You’re messing up my hair…Winnie…” Astarion complained and glared down at the short female.

“I always fix it for you, don't I?” Winnie shrugged before grasping Astarion's hair. “Come on! The sun's gone down!”  The two left, hopping onto Winnie's motorcycle and driving off. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tall brightly lit lamp posts surrounded the archery range as the love birds paid their way in and rented a pair of bows before walking up to the ring. Winnie scrunched her nose as they passed another couple who absolutely reeked of booze. She'd noticed them arrive in some huge camo SUV with deer antlers mounted to the hood and an obnoxiously loud radio playing.

The archery targets were set up past the fence, all set up in a horizontal line and each one was moved further back than the one that came before. Winnie struggled to hold her bow correctly, grunting in frustration as the arrow would slide out of place.

“My sweet, let me help you.” Astarion said, carefully adjusting Winnie’s hands.  She took a deep breath before pulling the around back and shooting it. It fell right onto the ground almost immediately after being shot. 

“Ah! I suck at this!” Winnie huffed. 

“Well, you're still much better at it than Gale.” Astarion smiled a bit. 

“...Thanks….” Winnie said, not sure if being better than Gale was really that great a compliment.

“Try again, love.” Astarion said before moving to help Winnie. He stood close behind her, chest against her back as he positioned her hands, this time guiding them to pull back the bowstring. He had her pull it back as far as it would go before releasing it. The arrow shot across the range and hit the side of one of the targets.

“Whoa!” Winnie smiled, “I actually hit it!” Astarion adjusted her hands once again and helped her notch another arrow, this time hitting closer to the center of the target. 

“Okay! Okay! I'm going to try by myself this time!” She cheered. The elf watched her fondly. He found her giddiness positively adorable.

She pulled back the arrow before letting it go and it went about five feet before falling to the ground.

“Oh goddamnit!” Winnie swore, attracting the attention of onlookers. 

“You did better this time, darling. But perhaps you should take a break, hm?” Astarion suggested and patted her shoulder. 

“Yeah .... I guess so .... How about you shoot some?” Winnie asked. 

“I suppose I could.” Astarion hummed before planting a kiss on Winnie’s cheek. “But don't get upset when I upstage you.”

“No, by all means! Don't be afraid to show off!” Winnie smiled at him. Astarion smirked before taking the bow and notching an arrow. He pulled it all the way before letting it go and immediately hitting a bullseye on his first try.

A make-up-caked woman with short red hair and ruby red lipstick looked over from where she stood next to a tall beefy man in a leather vest, her eyes wide with amazement.  

Winnie clapped, a grin forming on her lips.

“Keep going Star! That was awesome!” She cheered.

Astarion shot another arrow at the next target immediately hitting another bullseye. Most of the targets he'd been used to usually moved so this was honestly way too easy.  Winnie followed Astarion as he hit the targets one after another each with a flawless technique.  

And he even shot one backwards.

Okay I said you could show off, but this is a little much….

“Astarion-” Winnie began before suddenly the red headed lady marched over and pushed her out of the way. 

“That was amazing! Where did you learn how to do that?” She asked, eyes leering over Astarion now that the woman was able to get a better look at him.  

“It’s all instinct really.” The elf replied with a smug, confident look. He appeared to be eating up the praise.

“It's very impressive. You must be very strong.~” She purred, moving to stand closer before placing a hand on his arm, feeling it up. Astarion grimaced and looked at the woman with a flash of disgust.  Winnie glared over at the woman with annoyance. 

Seriously? This is the second time some floozy thinks it's okay to invade Star’s personal space! 

“Look lady, he doesn't like people being all touch-” Winnie was about to try to run the woman off before suddenly the man she'd previously been with stomped over towards the three.

“HEY! Get the hell away from MY wife!” He snapped. 

“Apologies, it seems your lady has had a little too much to drink.” Astarion said, removing the woman's hand from his shoulder as if she was carrying some kind of disease. 

“Are you saying she's not good enough for you!? What are you gay!?” The man pushed through, he reeked of alcohol just as much as his wife did it seemed. Winnie furrowed her brows at the man's ridiculousness. He clearly just wanted any reason to fight. Astarion seemed a bit confused at his question.

“Not at the moment. Nothing really to be cheerful about currently.” 

“You being smart with me, pretty boy?!” The man shouted. Astarion was trying to remain civil for Winnie’s sake but the bastard was really trying his patience. Astarion wasn't permitted to have a knife, Winnie made sure of it but the vampire spawn claws he'd grown while here definitely weren't for looks. Wouldn't be too hard to poke a hole in this cunt’s windpipe if he was quick. 

“No. Not at all.” Astarion replied, “I was simply answering your question.” Astarion had a fake smile on his face, but Winnie could see the irritation in his eyes. If this didn't resolve itself quickly someone was going to get hurt.

“You think you're real funny don't you, you fucking faggot!?” The man snarled. 

“You know I've been called a lot of things, but that…I've never heard of. Probably not a very intelligent insult by any means.” Astarion chuckled a bit, his smile turning more sinister. Fingers clenched as his claws prepared to strike. The bigoted drunkard seemed about ready to blow his top and start throwing punches.  The floozy wife just seemed to be giggling and enjoying the chaos, not even caring if someone got hurt.  Winnie had to act fast before this turned to bloodshed. Before anyone could say another word she grabbed her bow and an arrow before desperately aiming towards the parking lot. She pulled it as far as it would go, almost instinctively remembering how Astarion showed her earlier. 

The arrow flew across the range and hit the drunk couple’s SUV right in the headlights, almost immediately sounding the car alarm. 

“What?” The bigoted man tore his head away from Astarion before suddenly his wife shouted.

“Fuck! That's our car!” She took off running. 

“Goddamn it! Who's breaking into my baby!” The man yelled before running off. 

“Well, that was rather convenient.” Astarion said before Winnie grabbed his arm. 

“This was fun, but it's time to go!” Winnie said before dragging him off and abandoning the bows they'd rented at the range. It took a moment for Astarion to realize that Winnie had been the one to cause a distraction.

“This was your doing? You sneaky little devil! I'm so proud, my love!” 

“Yeah yeah whatever now let's get out of here before we get arrested!” Winnie pressed, dragging the giggling elf with her back to her motorcycle. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I hate that some assholes had to ruin our Valentine's Day. God, I swear nothing good ever comes from this holiday.” Winnie huffed as she sat down on a blanket.  Her and Astarion had made a little picnic on a hill out in the woods not too far from Winnie’s home. Winnie had gotten the idea of trying to head somewhere more private when she'd stopped at a rest stop on their way after the fiasco at the archery range. 

“I wouldn't say that. You and I still get to spend plenty of alone time together.” Astarion said and scooted closer towards her.  Winnie looked up at the sky. 

“I suppose you're right about that. Brian and mom won't be back for a couple of days…” Winnie scooted a bit closer towards Astarion and leaned against him. 

“I…Uh…I have something for you…. Winnie…” Astarion looked off to the side before taking something out of his pocket. 

It was a small box of heart shaped chocolates. 

“I'd still much rather sink my teeth into a different heart, but I'd imagine you'd prefer this.” 

“Astarion…This is so sweet….Thank you….” Winnie took the box and nibbles on one of the chocolates, a smile stretched across her face from ear to ear. Astarion simply snuggled against her, planting a kiss on her forehead.

“When did you even buy ... .? Wait a moment…You stole these didn't you?” 

“Ah….I may have done that….Yes…ah ha ha…” 

Winnie let out a long sigh.

“What am I going to do with you?” She rolled her eyes before wrapping her arms around his neck and leaned in, nuzzling her nose against his. Astarion smiled and nuzzled back, the two pressing their foreheads together.

“Just hold me…” He whispered.

The two love birds were completely unaware as a figure watched them from far away. The figure was slender and corpse-like. 

“Thou doth not know what thy actions will bring. It is only a matter of time.” The figure's echo of a voice rang out. 

End.

Taglist: @astarioffsimpmain, @iamsexytrash, @tiedyedghoulette, @hp-art-studio , @gaymistakeboi , @the-disaster-in-waiting, @misscrissfemmefatale, @divineknightmare, @marcynomercy, @gianchan-de, @tinyfreakgirl, @jaksfanficsaver, @im-just-a-simp-le-whore, @dajeong

IDK, but Tumblr would not let me tag some of y'all, but I will notify you when the next parts come out!

[chukys-mouthguard]

life’s little moments - je9

Current Mood: An NHL Moodboard Series

-> jack eichel - father au

-> genre - pure fluff

Telling Jack you’re pregnant…

It took you a solid week and a half to decide on how you’d tell Jack the big news. Nothing seemed good enough for such a big moment, though you knew no matter how you told him Jack would be the happiest man on planet earth.

Pacing the floor you impatiently waited to see Jack’s car pull in the driveway, but once you did you thought you were going to puke. Trying not to be so awkward as he came inside, finding you in the kitchen next to a gift box and a card.

“Babe, what’s going on?”

He wrapped you in a hug, eyeing the gift before he gave you a kiss.

“Just open it, it’s nothing crazy. A little surprise just because.”

Jack opened the card, which you kept plain so as to not sway his mind in any particular direction.

“I can’t wait to wear this next season and cheer you on. Love, Baby Eichel.”

As if there was a delay in his brain, Jack just stared at the card for a solid sixty seconds before he’d caught on.

“You’re kidding…no.”

Ripping open the box he confirmed his suspicion as he revealed a baby sized Knights jersey, fitted with Jack’s number nine and “daddy” across the back shoulders.

“There’s a baby in there?!”

His hands reached for your stomach as he smiled from ear to ear, unable to contain his excitement as he picked you up and spun you around. Your laugh filled the room as he shouted loud, your voices echoing throughout the house.

“This is amazing baby, god I love you so much!”

During your pregnancy…

Having no idea what to expect your first time being pregnant, you’d say things were somewhat smooth. The occasional weird craving sending Jack all over town to pick up whatever food combinations your brain had cooked up.

But he never once complained, happy to pick up whatever it was you craved no matter what time of day it was.

“Where are my girls?”

Jack’s voice rang in a sing-song tone as he entered the kitchen with a bag in hand, your current obsession being Thai food from a local restaurant downtown. To which Jack happily made the long drive versus having it delivered, never wanting to risk your order being messed up and making you upset with how wild your hormones had been.

He quickly rushed to the couch, placing a kiss on your lips before kissing your belly, always making sure to say hello to baby girl as well.

“Hello my princess, I know you missed me sooo much. Daddy just went to grab mommy food, but I’m back!”

You couldn’t help but smile at how in love Jack already was with your baby girl. He’d lay with you for hours just to be near her, to feel her kick, to sing and read to her. He was everything you could hope for and more in a father already.

Bringing home your baby girl…

Jack had been driving nearly fifteen under the speed limit the entire way home from the hospital. Absolutely terrified to hit even the tiniest bump with you and your baby girl in the back seat. His knuckles turning white with how hard he was gripping the steering wheel.

“Jack, you’re doing fine. We are just a few houses away, you can breathe now.”

He let out a breath as he’d finally pulled in the driveway, turning off the car before rushing to open your door for you.

“Here babe, let me help you.”

Jack held your hand as he helped you from the back seat, taking his time to help you up to the front door as you were still a bit sore.

“I’ve got it from here Jack, thank you honey.”

He kissed your lips before running back to the car to grab the car seat, again moving at a snail's pace as he was petrified of bumping the baby or tripping while carrying her.

As you stood at the door, watching him smile down at your newborn daughter in the car seat, you felt a few tears welling in your eyes. This was pure happiness. The newest chapter of your life beginning with the man you loved. Already blown away with how easily he fell into the role of dad, and excited to see what an amazing father he would become.

[pinky-in-blankets]

TADC: ✨️SideQuests ✨️

---

A Clue! A Clue!

Route: S.O.S!Au

---

"WHAT is she, A Librarian!? HOW MANY BOOKS DOES RAGATHA HAVE!?"

Scribbles hissed in protest at the thought of going through every single book in the Potion makers shelf. Pomni, Caine, and herself were currently investigating the Ragdoll's Quarters.

The little Jerboa had taken one of Ragatha's Favorite ribbons and hidden it somewhere with the assistance of Jax under a guise of a prank, So they'd have plenty of time to search. If anything, those two could annoy eachother for hours.

"SO My Dear, Do tell me.. what exactly are we searching for?"

Caine mused as he poked a few of the empty vials and nearly knocked them over. Pomni was Quick to catch them and gave him a look.

"Anything that's suspicious or out of place."

She replied while placing the vials back in order. The last thing she wanted was Caine to be here during her investigation, seeing as he's a suspect.

But she need to keep a closer eye on the riddlemaster.. as he was the hardest to get a read on. It would be better to keep your friends close and your enemies closer after all.. yeah. That was totally the reason.

"Everything in this place is suspicious. I feel like I'm in a witches Cavern.."

Scribbles murmered under her breathe as she filed through the different books. She probably wasn't looking as throughly as she should- but ughhh this was so dusty and boring. "Tears of the world", "A handmaidens guide to Etiquette", "Darling, If you only Knew-"

**BONK**

"OW!"

Scribbles let out a slightly agitated cry as a big book fell on her noggin. The other two turned their heads to see what the commotion was.

"Little Knight?"

Caine asked as he walked over curiously to see what was wrong.

"You okay?"

Pomni asked as she also headed over, trying not to laugh. Whenever something hit scribbles, she sounded like a strained squeaky toy.

"Mmhm.. I'm okay.. just this silly Book.. Huh? That's weird.. this is the only book in another language. Isn't everything here set to "English"?"

Scribbles mentioned as she held up the book to the two. The entire book was written in French.

"That.. That is odd."

Pomni mused as Scribbles opened it and flipped through the pages. She squinted at the fancy calligraphy and let out a frustrated hiss.

"How can anybody read this stuff? I cant even read the title."

" Base de données des utilisateurs."

Caine chimed in, causing Both Pomni & Scribbles to look at him. He simply spun his cane around with a bit of pride, assuming that he's managed to impress the two.

"Why I can read MANY languages. French, German, Spanish, Chinese, Russian-"

He began to list off one of his many setting before pomni put her fingers to his teeth and shushed him.

" YES yes that's very impressive Caine but could you maybe just read this in ENGLISH?"

She motioned to the pages of the book the little Jerboa held out to him. He gave an awkward chuckle before nodding.

"Ah- But of course my dear! Allow me to shed some light on this verbal mystery!"

He stated as he began to read out the listed words in the pages... he was reading out names. But not just any names.. Names of all the missing persons on this case.

This was a HUGE piece of evidence.

"Yes.. YES! FINALLY! SOMETHING THAT COULD ACTUALLY BE A SOLID LEAD!!"

Pomni Said with a bright grin as she did a little jig in place. After months of wild goose chases she's finally making some solid progress. Caine had no idea how this book made her so excited but the sight alone made his non existenant heart flutter a little bit. Might as well join in the cheerfulness.

"That's simply marvelous my dear~"

Pomni couldn't contain her excitement as she immediately ran up to Caine and threw her arms around him. He was taken aback but happily spun her around a little as they had a small victory.

Scribbles was quick to catch the book before handing it back to Caine when he finally stopped spinning Pomni. Her face had flushed with the silly laughter she had.

"Finally.. I'm finally one step closer to finding out who's behind this all. Thank you. Thank you so much Caine.."

" Oh no, It was my Pleas-"

Caine began but immediately stopped mid sentence as he felt something wrong. It was as if the ground had went out from under him...?

!?

As if he slipped on something, Caine went crashing to the ground and the Book went flying.. and landed right into Ragatha's Main Calderon.

It bubbled and fizzled as the book all but discenigrated into the green liquid.

A deathly silence fell over the room as Cain slowly sat up, Feeling the burning stares of the two Behind him.. even He knew that a Simple "Oops." Wouldn't fix what he had just done.

He felt his Code run cold as the strained Sound of Despair in Pomni's Voice can be heard.

"Caine... What did you do..?"

---

Song of sorrow Au belongs to @snuffydoo

[friendship-ditch]

Whumptober Day 1 - Panic Attack

Eowyn x Fem!Reader ✼

Summary: Eowyn's worries about the future send her into a panic attack in the middle of a celebration.

Warnings/Notes: General descriptions of a panic attack/struggling to breathe, that's it really. Wanted to give whumptober a try with my beloveds so keep an eye out.

Word Count: 1689

 The Green Dragon. The hobbits had been singing some tavern song about… a dragon? No, no… it was a bar in the Shire, at least that’s what Eowyn thought. The wooden table shook beneath their stomping hairy feet in time with the claps of amused viewers. The hall was full of soldiers and their wives, celebrating their victory over the Battle of Helm's Deep—a battle Eowyn was forced to hide from, rather than fight—and remembering those that had died. 

 Eowyn wasn’t sure which group held more of her envy; those that had given their life for their country whilst fighting, who’s names would be forever remembered… or those that had fought and survived who now got to feel the truth of glory and strength.

 All things aside, she envied both parties for they got to do the one thing she had always dreamed of. They received their chances of valor alongside a bloodstained sword. They weren’t tied down by gender and expectations, they weren’t left behind to be pitied and defended like children. They weren’t useless. Not like she had been doomed to be since birth. 

  Doomed to never catch respect or honor between her fingers, never feel the same excitement the soldiers felt at the end of war. Doomed to forever sit behind the bars of womanhood until she grew old and useless, body worn from years of sorrow and fingers still itching for–though now too weak to lift–the hilt of a sword.

  The idea of forever being trapped beneath the soft blanket of femininity that had smothered her since birth was a terrifying one, one that kept Eowyn up at the latest nights, longing to prove herself, to be a name spoken with pride rather than dismissal.

 Eowyn hadn’t even realized her hands were shaking until she nearly dropped the flagon in her hands. Not wanting to spill the liquid, she abandoned it on a table. She wasn’t drinking, she’d found the container on the floor and meant to move it out of a drunkard's potential path. Gimli had offered her some of the mead earlier but the thought of losing even more control of herself made her feel sick. 

  Now she was wondering if Gimli had the right idea. Alcohol would certainly help ease her sorrows, but she was still uncertain on if it would calm the galloping horse within her chest.

  From over towards the Hobbits, a loud cheer erupted. Eowyn turned her head to look but bumped into a rather drunken man who nearly fell on top of her. Was there no room to breathe in here? It felt as if someone began to suck the oxygen from her lungs.

 It was crowded. Incredibly crowded, and noisy, and warm, and loud, and hot—Eowyn was then very aware of the sweat dripping down her back, the way the thick fabric of her dress clung to her skin. The collar dug into her neck, constricting her breathing even further. Somebody had plucked her by the head and set her on a wheel, then began to spin her around as fast as they could. She needed fresh air, she needed space, but she was too terrified to move in fear of falling over.

The panic was starting to wrap its arms around her, squeezing her tightly and dragging her away from the light. The crowded hall was practically steaming and void of air. Something hot began to dribble down her face at the same time her vision began to blur, but with a foggy mind, Eowyn could not put two and two together and made the panicked conclusion she was going to pass out.

  The exit was nowhere to be found in this gaping hall of colors and heat. The people around her were now just shapes and noises, noises that made her head feel like it was going to splinter. Her heart was racing so fast it felt as if it had sprouted wings and was going to fly up her throat, her lungs simply giving up on air and falling… falling.

  Before Eowyn could realize what was going on, she sank down to the floor into a crumpled heap, the last of her breath leaving her body in a hoarse gasp. This was it. She was going to lay here, lukewarm stone against her fiery cheek, and either be trampled to death or suffocate on her own lungs. 

  Her ringing ears could distantly make out some commotion and loud sounds but it registered as nothing but perhaps her imagination. Her eyes were clenched shut so tightly she feared the tears on her face would be stained red.

  A warm touch on Eowyn’s back yanked her back to reality by the hair, a loud cry escaping her quivering lips. Suddenly she was awake and so very alive again. The world was far too bright for her teary eyes and everything was too much. 

  “Eowyn!”

  Someone had been calling her name. The sound that had once been a muffled call now pierced through the ringing, the word clear, and worried.

  Through teary eyes, Eowyn could just barely see the details of your face, though anything below your eyes was blurred. Maybe she had died. Maybe that glow behind you was not from the fires of the Golden Hall, but from the sun on a golden shore. Somebody had trampled her, that heel finally digging into her lungs until they were beyond repair and–

  “Eowyn.” You said, hands grasping hers. Her eyes stared at you but they were almost blank, as if she recognized you but had no idea what to do with that information. Her body was trembling violently, chest heaving for withheld air.

  “It’s me. It’s y/n.” 

  Your voice seemed to poke a little further through the fog. Eowyn tried and failed to form a response, her only noise a soft whimper, but you took it as a sign she was snapping out of it.

  The blonde woman didn’t try to fight as you pulled her to her feet, but her legs didn’t exactly agree either. She would have collapsed once more if it wasn’t for your arm snaked around her waist.

  Now teetering on the edge of panic and lucidity, Eowyn gasped as the cold night air drenched her body. Her body was lowered to lay on the floor, back pressed against cold, soothing stone. Her eyes had grown clearer and she could see the stars, but her lungs still felt crumpled.

  Your hand slipped beneath her back and turned her onto her side, one hand splaying on her chest, the other on her back. “Breathe.”

  Breathe.

  Eowyn’s lips opened in a silent cry for air, but what little morsels she inhaled were only enough to make her cough. Your hand rubbed in soft circles over her chest and your command was repeated, so she tried again.

  The air came a little easier this time, and the next. She tried to sit up to regain the weak remains of her dignity but her body sunk back down onto the ground in protest. Whatever pride Eowyn had once held in herself was gone but for the moment she could not care.

  Eventually she was able to regulate her breathing and found her head on your leg. Your fingers were gingerly raking through the golden locks of her hair, starting at the scalp and trailing to the last strands. The tears on her face had dried to soft glitter beneath the moonlight, and the panicking pony in her chest relaxed.

  “I am sorry.”

  Eowyn’s first words after her breakdown were, as expected, rough and hoarse. She cleared her throat and slowly turned to look up at you. 

  “I… I don’t know what happened to me. One moment I was fine, and the next…”

  “I found you curled up on the floor… I thought maybe you had too much to drink, but then I realized you were shaking.” You whispered softly. In your lap, Eowyn tried to turn her head away in shame but you stopped her with a palm to her cheek. “You had a panic attack.”

  “A… panic attack.” Eowyn repeated the words as if they were foreign, though the look in her eyes told you this had not been her first time drowning in fear. Her drawn eyebrows loosened and a heavy sigh escaped her lips. “I suppose… I let my mind wander too freely.”

  “What worries burden you so?”

  “That I will amount to nothing. I will forever be trapped behind these bars, watching those around me taste sweet valor while I am parched and starving.” The bitterness fled from Eowyn’s thoughts into her voice and she turned her face to look out over the quiet village of Edoras. “I will grow old and useless and be forgotten… I will drown in my cage of bars set by my people.”

  It had always been clear to you that deep down, Eowyn was not happy. Smiles felt good on her lips but they meant nothing as they were not true. The fear of control was slowly killing her.

  “Your bars will rust, and you will break free with the valor of a thousand men.” You whispered softly, slipping a hand beneath her head, lifting it. “Your destiny is far grander than rotting away. I promise.” Your other hand rested on the back of her neck.

  Even if your words had no true guarantee, they brought Eowyn a comfort she had been searching for. Her eyes lightened and the corners of her lips ever so slightly twitched. It had been years since she had felt any hope.

  “You’re certain?”

  “I am.”

  You raised her head a little further before planting your lips in a gentle kiss on her hairline, eliciting a quiet sigh of content from her lungs. Eowyn nodded in response to your words and let her eyes flutter shut as you laid her back in your lap. 

  She would be okay. 

  If she could just hang on a little longer to moments like these, draped over the moonkissed stairs of Meduseld, bathing in the cold night at your side, she would be okay.

[sinning5sos]

Having a baby with Ashton would include...

1/4 in the father-to-be series :

Ashton ~ would be a helicopter partner near the end of your pregnancy, making sure you had anything you wanted and everything you needed.

You stared down at your stomach, admiring yet feeling anxious at the protrusion. You were at the thirty-nine week mark, and there wasn’t much that you could do at this point. You already knew you were having a girl, your excitement could hardly be contained but that was nothing compared to your husband. 

You listened to him humming along in the other room, only pausing when a lyric popped into his head and rubbed your stomach mindlessly. 

When you had that first wave of nausea so long ago, then you peed on those sticks, Ashton had been so excited. He still was, sometimes to the point of too much excitement for you. But the two of you were happy to finally have a child together, a dream you’ve both shared for a few years now.

You sighed as you realized you had to pee, which meant that you had to get out of your comfy chair, a chair that Ashton had bought when you had hit the thirty week mark stating that, “My love and my love deserve the best.”

You heaved forward slightly, but barely moved and you huffed as you sank back into the chair. You tried once more, but fell back. This chair was too comfortable.

“Babe?” You called, and heard a pencil fall onto the desk and his chair scoot back instantly, and he nearly tripped over his feet as he came around the corner.

“Yes, what is it? Is it time?” He asked, kneeling at the foot of the chair and you giggled as you shook your head.

“You think that if I was going into labor, I’m just going to call for you?” You said, and he chuckled as he kissed the top of your stomach, “No, I just have to pee darling.”

“Ah,” He replied. He stood and held his hands out for you to take, and using your momentum and Ashtons help, you were finally able to get to your feet. You felt the baby shift slightly inside of you, a feeling you couldn’t tell if you enjoyed or not, and let out a deep breath. His eyes widened in concern, but he remained quiet.

“Pee time,” You mumbled, and Ashton helped you walk over into the bathroom. You shut the door behind you, smiling to yourself as you saw his feet cast a shadow underneath the door, “Ash, I can pee just fine.”

“I know, I just want to help you.”

“You’ve done more for me Ashton, than any other person in this world.”

Other pregnancy things from Ash would include - 

Countless foot massages and helping you lotion your feet/legs

Literally a n y t h i n g you wanted, you got it

Him spoiling the baby with lots of clothes and toys

VERY PROTECTIVE

To the point where it’s kinda annoying but also he’s a father to be and you love how dedicated he is

Lots of affirmation from him

He’d be doing lots of research on everything and anything baby related

Because he doesn’t want to be like his dad so he’s going to try his best in every single fucking thing possible

And he’d tell you every single day how thankful he is for you and how he’s so excited to do this with you

He’d try to convince you to do anal just once

But he’d also spoil you

[chocoblep]

#14: Just a Hare More Excitement

Prompt: Telling

TW: Mention of death

You know, when I asked for a little more excitement in my work, I didn’t expect to get so much so quickly, Qorin thought as he returned to his borrowed room at the Observatorium. When he entered, he checked in on the unconscious viera that was lying in his bed. He’d had to ask a couple of the guards here to help him get the man upstairs after his ordeal, and he’d considered stripping him down so that he could replace that ridiculous excuse for a bandage the man had wound around himself, but if his previous interactions with him were any indication, he was certain doing so would only earn him more of his ire.

I’m sure he’s not all bad, Qorin thought to himself, setting the covered  container near the stove. He would reheat that broth when the viera woke. Idly, he wondered if nearly losing his life had been the only thing that had made him easier to deal with. Would he wake up and try to kill Qorin? Would he simply leave, and get himself killed? Qorin hoped not; they might have started off on the wrong foot, but there was nothing the man had done that had made Qorin wish him ill.

He crossed over to the bed, laying two fingers at the side of the man’s throat. His pulse was there–not strong, but there. His chest still rose and fell with his breathing. Good. He’d lost a lot of blood.

He turned to look out a nearby window at the red-gold sunset. He himself was incredibly tired and needed sleep; he would have a long day tomorrow, healing the ailing and injured in the more remote places in Coerthas, so he went about making up his own sleeping area. Taking the extra blanket off of the bed’s footboard, he brought the chair that resided at the desk over to the bedside. He’d likely wake up several times during the night to check on the viera, and he wanted to be there when he woke up, so he curled up there, wrapping the blanket around himself and settling in for a fitful night’s rest.

This was one of the only times he felt grateful that he was compact. It was much easier to curl up to sleep on a chair as a smaller person.

“Please don’t be gone when I wake up,” he murmured, closing his eyes. “I want to feed you before you go.”

The thought occurred to him as he drifted off to sleep that this man might not remember what had transpired and actually kill Qorin while he slept, but he was so exhausted that he took comfort in thinking that it would probably be quick.

(( @shadesofblades for Aoki mention! ))

[unrepentantweirdo]

Robert Joseph MacCready Headcanons and Birth Chart- Part Three!

Now, for the astrology side of things! I almost fell out in the floor at how perfectly it nailed my RJ.

Here's his chart:

For the sake of my and your sanity, I'm going to quote Astrology.com directly. It will not have a ton of links like the Cassie post, just this one that takes you to the planets if you want to read further: https://www.astrology.com/planets

Sun (self/personality) in Aries: "Those born during the season of the Ram approach life with an assertiveness unfettered by doubt. Rams take life at the horns and use their own to plow through any and every obstacle that comes their way. Meandering paths and methods aren't their style. They prefer direct action, so no need to worry about passive aggression from these individuals. However, despite their fierce and fearless fronts, beyond the flames lies a surprisingly sensitive soul.

These are the firecrackers of the zodiac. Though Aries' can be quick to mouth off, they're usually just as quick to cool off. Barring those natives with a couple fixed sign placements, grudge-holding is unlikely for a Ram. Mars, their ruling planet, implies high stamina and excitement, therefore pushing them to keep moving forward. But don't presume to get over on an Aries sun. They may forgive, but truly forgetting is another thing entirely."

Moon (emotions/instinct) in Scorpio: "On the surface, Scorpio moons appear to be the most controlled of their watery brethren. Lunar Scorpions prefer to sift through their emotions alone, projecting a mysterious air to everyone but their dearest (and sometimes, not even them). But, like a lake frozen over, their psyches contain any number of lurking sensitivities and troubles. Unfortunately for their loved ones (and those trying to join those ranks), they have an inherent distrust towards others.

Conversely, those with their moon in Scorpio actively seek out commitment. However, their defensive and overly suspicious natures make it difficult for their relationships to reach the profundity that they crave. But for the rare few that manage to break through Scorpio moon's walls, a wealth of devotion awaits them. The affection of a Scorpio moon isn't for everyone, but for those who receive it, it is everything."

Mercury (communication) in Aries: ""Intensely expressing" should be the byline for those with their Mercury in Aries. If you happen upon a person speaking and gesturing wildly, they likely have this placement. Communication is a full-body experience for Aries Mercury, so they can't help but let their passion pour from every pore. Aggression isn't their intention, but they certainly do come across defensive, making them seem a little rough around the edges.

If you listen closely, their words are likely very straightforward. Mincing words isn't exactly an Aries Mercury skill, and much like other fire Mercury placements, nor is filtering, for that matter. The speed at which they make decisions simply doesn't allow for it. Someone with their Mercury in Aries says what they mean and mean what they say. More than nearly any other sign—save perhaps Sagittarius—you can trust that an Aries Mercury will tell you the truth."

Venus (love and money) in Aquarius: "Venus in Aquarius originated the friends-to-lovers trope. These folks require familiarity and real attachment before committing. From open relationships to separate households, they are pulled into relationships that others might consider strange or unconventional. In fact, their partners are often offbeat and "different" in some way. While some fall for appearances or voices, Aquarius Venus' are most attracted to minds. Clever conversations, spirited debates, and witty retorts are the path to the heart of someone with their Venus in Aquarius. These people are generally fairly intellectual, so they need to feel that they've met their match before settling down.

Beyond romance, those with this Venus sign have forward-thinking tendencies and are unafraid to let them loose. However, Venus' influence softens their otherwise highly stubborn nature, making them a little more tolerable than the average Aquarius placement."

Mars (passion) in Aries: "The Roman gladiator and the brave knight on horseback—Mars in Aries has a drive that is the stuff of legends. They approach obstacles with the confidence that they'll bulldoze over them. Often, they do just that—unless, of course, the task requires prolonged efforts. As a Cardinal sign, Aries prefers to be the starter rather than the finisher. Their fire burns brightly, and that sort of passion can be difficult to maintain for very long. Furthermore, though they excel at self-starting, their impulsivity can act as a two-edged sword, alternating between inspiring their most forward choices and causing them to veer off course.

Fortunately, Aries Mars' tempers are much the same with large blow ups being followed by relative peace. In this way, they usually aren't the type to hold grudges, but their wound-up nature encourages a certain irritability."

Jupiter (luck/learning) in Virgo: "When Jupiter meets detail-oriented Virgo, he creates an individual whose mind goes a mile a minute, though others will likely never know this on account of their humility. Jupiter in Virgo makes for an orderly mode de vie. Unlike their Mercurial sibling, Gemini, there is a method to Jupiter in Virgo's madness. As they say, the devil is in the details, and Virgo Jupiter prefers to immerse themselves in the minutiae of everyday life. Habits, routines, and so-called busy work are a pleasure for those with this placement, but refrain from simply characterizing these people as dull!

They're just at home and prosperous while engaging in deep intellectual pursuits as they are doing their daily chores. In these quests, Virgo Jupiter is relentless. Exhaustion or lethargy are foreign concepts for these natives. Productivity is the word, so it's rare to catch them sitting down."

Saturn (karma/life lessons) in Taurus: "Saturn tightens the belt in Taurus. Taurus' usual love of luxury is reigned in here to produce somewhat of a spendthrift. Where most Taurus placements opt to spend, Taurus Saturn instead saves. Practicality rather than excess is the North Star for those with their Saturn in Taurus. These folks have serious financial and material goals that Saturn pushes them to reach.

However, as different as these Saturnian Taurus' are from their solar counterparts, Saturn can't completely erase the Taurean spirit. It's uncertain whether a higher power even has that ability. So, those with this placement retain the stereotypical Taurus stubbornness—or, more kindly put, their admirable stick-to-it-iveness."

Uranus (rebellion/innovation) in Aries: "When the planet of shock meets the sign of the adrenaline junkie, you're up for a wild ride. Uranus in Aries wants the world, and they want it now. They, more than anyone, want to be first in whatever line they're in. These individuals aren't satisfied if they're not breaking ground. As a result, records of their exploits are often found in the earlier pages of history books.

However, the path to becoming the stuff of legends is hardly an easy one and typically fraught with more than a few bumps, scratches, and broken bones for these folks. Uranus in Aries treats looking before leaping the same way most people do trips to the dentist. That is, they loathe, sidestep, or overlook it completely. As a result, Aries Uranus can end up in touchy and ultimately avoidable situations."

Neptune (illusion/dreams/abstract thoughts) in Virgo: "Neptune tries to lift grounded Virgo a little more into the clouds. Neptune releases Virgo from some of the trappings of practicality. Where stress and anxiety ordinarily exist in the Virgo psyche, Neptune has replaced with bliss and calm, giving them ample opportunities to better employ their intellect. With Neptune in Virgo, the sign's Mercury-fueled ideas are used for the greater benefit of mankind or even just the native's community.

Though they can definitely still fall down the rabbit hole where their detail-oriented natures are concerned, Virgo Neptune's genius and tendency toward precision generally flow in positive directions."

Pluto (transformation/regeneration/rebirth) in Capricorn: "The Pluto in Capricorn generation is meant to smash through existing systems and structures. Accepted concepts of work/life balance and office politics do not appeal to the children of this astrological era. This is the generation that asks, "Why should we spend 40 hours or more each week in the service of a company?" As a result, those with this placement are more independent where working is concerned. However, Capricorn Pluto is far from lazy; they simply abide by a set of laws that may or may not fall in line with society.

Naturally, these individuals don't exactly mesh well with authority figures. Ironically, Pluto's passion and Capricorn's enterprising energy will likely push them to become the very authority they've struggled against. Drive is a key characteristic for this placement, so they're sure to take the world by storm."

North Node (karmic destiny) in Taurus: "Lessons and rewards around themes of discovering your personal value, establishing boundaries, mutual empowerment through relationships, and developing personal strength."

Chiron (empathy/pain/helping others) in Pisces: "Pisces, the sign of sacrifice, surrender and spiritual depth, adds even more to Chiron’s legacy and ability as a wounded healer, and invites us to take a long hard look at this wound....

Profound pain can be a calling to spiritual awakening, no matter where the pain originally came from. It can be a call to patience, a call to joy, a call to empathy, a call to mercy. Pain does not have to multiply itself. It can stop wherever you stop it. Not content to simply heal our wounds, we can also dance them, love them, preach them, decorate them, sing them, work with them, honor them."

Ascendant (outward appearance): "People with a Taurus ascendant exude beauty and creativity. Taurus is a sign that’s ruled by the planet Venus, which represents beauty, balance, and creativity. There is a strong connection to the tangible and physical world. Spending time in nature, creating things with their hands, and cultivating more sensual experiences matter greatly to this rising sign."

Midheaven/MC (professional life/traits) in Aquarius: "Rebellious, witty, zealous, changemaker. Professions: activist, engineer, environmental scientist." (The first one made me laugh in the beginning, but then it kind of made sense considering how upset he gets at pre-War atrocities.)

If you made it to the end, thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the miniature novel about my favorite Fallout companion. I hope to have the next chapter of DATC up by the weekend; I'm still ironing out some rough spots here and there.

Love you all.

-Weirdo

[couldawouldashoulda50]

The Distance and the Time Between Us

Part One - February, 2016

A/N - Part one starts at the beginning where Y/N and William first meet. You can read the Introduction here

Y/N is invited by the organization to do some light-hearted promotional video shorts to try and elevate the mood surrounding the Leafs (the team is having one of their worst seasons on record) and support the Marlies (their season is the polar opposite). I have never really written dialogue before and truthfully, I struggled with it so hopefully it's not too painful to read. Hopefully my French isn't too brutal either.

Warnings: mention of medical issues, swearing

Word Count: 4.8k

Early February, 2016

“Okay, so the idea is that we’re going to test her knowledge about Sweden, and then in order to get a point, she also needs to shoot the puck in the net.  Then we’ll flip it over to you and you will need to answer some questions about Canada and then do the same with the puck. Easy, right?” Amanda chuckles at William as he makes an indiscernible, possibly bordering on unimpressed, face. 

“Why can’t you ask ME the Swedish questions…I mean, how hard are these questions anyway?'' William says, trying to coax the Marketing Manager into switching things up.  

“Because we have to make it somewhat challenging - there’s no fun in making it too easy for you” Amanda laughs.  “Plus, she may not know anything about Sweden so you could totally run away with this.”

“Yeah, let’s hope so…I’d rather not get pummeled and have the whole thing recorded…I’ll never live it down”  William laughs.  He finishes tying up the laces on his skates, exits the dressing room and joins the camera crew on the ice.

Not long after, you emerge from another dressing room of the practice facility for the Leafs and Marlies, decked out in a zip-up team jacket, dark tights and your hockey skates.  You were provided with a customized Bauer stick to match the one the former first-round pick uses.  You take a quick glance at your reflection in the glass and chuckle to yourself thinking, rather modestly, “it’s as good as it’s going to get”.  You adjust the Leafs toque that was provided to you and open the latch to the gate.

You hop onto the ice, trying to contain the sheer excitement of even being at this rink.  As a local girl, you were brought up watching the Leafs.  At the age of 4, you found a souvenir from a Maple Leaf’s game that your Dad had attended.  It was a glossy paged yearbook of the 1993/1994 Leafs roster and when your eyes fell upon Felix Potvin, the Leafs starting net minder, you were done…your little 4 year old heart fell head over heels in love with him.  The adoration for Felix made you a fan, not just of the team, but of the game.  It wasn’t an aspiration of yours to necessarily play hockey; the dreams of being a musician had already consumed your mind, body and soul.  It was the skating; the power and speed behind every glide that held your focus as you watched each game.  As a child, you took figure skating lessons but after years of struggling with some of the fundamentals due to your stout body structure, especially in your legs (making it difficult to do the ‘cross’ part of the ‘cut’), you dropped the lessons, and stayed away from participating in any on-ice activities.  

Years later, your height nearly reaching 5’9” after some significant growth spurts, your body took a more shapely and athletic form, mainly as a result of swimming laps nightly at the community pool.  Much like skating, the power and strength behind every movement with swimming laps appealed to you.  It taught you focus while developing precise and efficient motion.  You were a natural born worrier; the rhythm and repetition of gliding through water helped free you from the relentless chatter that plagued your mind.  

With the changes to your frame allowing your legs to finally accomplish the menacing cross-cut, and you now making money from your band's pursuits, the power skating lessons began.  With you being based in Britain at the time, it was challenging to find the exact program that you wanted.  You resigned to being the only 5’8”, fully developed 18 year old female taking “ice-hockey lessons” as they called it, alongside 8 and 9 year old boys.  You learned another valuable lesson during this time, learning to drown out the comments and unwanted input from those around you, in order to do what you love.  It came in handy - at this point in time, being an up and coming band, you still found yourselves playing gigs in front of audiences where 20% wanted to hear you and 80% did not.

And here you are now, a superstar in your own right, invited by the Maple Leafs organization to make some promotional video shorts with members of the current Maple Leafs and Toronto Marlies teams.  The Leafs were having a pretty tough season; the Marlies season was the polar opposite. The organization’s hope was that some light-hearted PR involving the once small-town Ontario girl, turned mega-celebrity, who happens to love both Toronto hockey teams, could help lighten the abysmal mood that infected the fan base.  

As he chatted with Amanda, William watched you with interest as you skated towards the production team.  He knows you - well, not exactly…he at least knows who you are.  William was familiar with a few of your hits and generally liked some of  your solo stuff but he was nowhere near the level of fandom of his three sisters.  Even William’s younger brother, Alex, was an avid follower of yours but he mused it might be more about your physical beauty than your music.

Alex nearly jumped through the phone last night when William explained that he was doing a video segment with you the following day.  

William hadn’t noticed his conversation with Amanda had completely trailed off; his eyes firmly set on you as you enthusiastically greeted each person on the set.   You were simply luminescent, and William was honestly taken aback with your natural ability to put everyone at ease.  Although you were the VIP of the day, you made everyone in the room feel like they were too.  

William’s sky-blue eyes traced the side-profile of your face; butterflies started to form in his stomach when you glanced towards him and smiled.  As he smiled back, the butterflies were replaced by an elephant stampede in his chest, and he began to feel an intense heat radiating from his cheeks.

You skated over to him and unbeknownst to you, he was actually nervous, despite his demeanor of appearing totally relaxed.  

“Hey William” you said, extending your hand.  “I’m Y/N - I’m so excited to meet you” you said, grinning your widest grin.

And as William grinned his widest grin back at you, there were two thoughts crashing in your mind at the same time - “Jesus - he’s fucking gorgeous” followed promptly by “he’s probably a prick so forget about it”.

“Nice to meet you too…. My sisters are huuuuuge fans of yours”, William said.

You smiled with appreciation “That’s awesome…please tell them thank you, from me, if you can.  It’s always so nice to hear that.” 

You paused - you didn’t want to pry, or sound intrusive but you saw the hit William took from the Swiss player at the World Juniors in December and had been on your mind since, given his connection with the Marlies.

Tentatively, you continued. “I saw some clips from the All-star Classic last week - it must have felt good to be back on the ice.   

“Oh - you mean after the concussion”.  You weren’t sure if William was embarrassed but he looked down towards the ice and ran his fingers through his luxurious blonde hair.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you winced “Yeah…I watched that game…” you trailed off, feeling really uncertain if you should say any more.  “I’m so sorry - that hit on you was brutal.” 

 “It didn’t feel good, that’s for sure; should’ve kept my head up” he quipped.  “But yeah, between that and my appendix almost bursting after that, I’m a lot better now”.  

You kicked yourself mentally, hoping you hadn’t created an awkward moment; you were never one to handle uncomfortable silences very well.   

In an attempt to recover, you look up at William with a smile.

 “Well, I’m so glad to hear you’ve recovered.  It looks like they’re almost ready…let’s get this rig rolling”, giving him a little wink and a slight nudge.

You turn to see that the crew has nearly finished setting up the lighting and Amanda is going through some details with the woman that will be hosting the segment.  You skate off to join Amanda and the host to see if you can get some intel of the questions being asked.

Amanda calls William over and she begins to direct you to where you’ll both need to stand so the lighting casts perfectly over your faces. 

A make-up artist appears, and begins to do some minor touch-ups to enhance your healthy glow, and applies a thin layer of gloss to your lips as an extra measure.

William watches as you raise your chin up and close your eyes, as brushes lightly graze over your features.  It’s unnerving for him to look at you; he’s convinced that you’re one of the most strikingly beautiful women that he's ever met. And he’d met plenty of women, or girls, depending. At the young age of 19, he’d already gotten a taste of the boy-band level of popularity with many females in Toronto, looking to catch the attention of an up and coming hockey star.  Add in all the girls he would meet during years of road trips, William never had to make an effort for girls to flock to him. Because of this, William found it difficult to establish a real connection beyond the overly available, yet casual, hook-ups which, most of the time, became complicated and messy. 

Filming quickly gets underway and the host introduces you both, giving a quick history about each of you.  

“OK Y/N - are you ready for the first question?” the host asks 

“Absolutely” you say, smiling.

“What are the two colours on the Swedish Flag?”

Relieved it’s an easy question, you quickly answer “Blue and Yellow”.  You position the puck just so and fire your shot, hitting the back of the net with ease.

William smiles and appears to be impressed as he raises an eyebrow and mouths the word “Wow”.

As the Swedish trivia challenge continued on, you managed to answer all of the remaining questions correctly, even blurting out the answer to the bonus question related to what type of government Sweden has (you’re not even sure how you knew the answer but nevertheless, you seemed to delight the onlookers).  Better yet, your shots on net were pretty solid and each puck hit the netting, coupled with an audible swoosh.

More and more, William was finding himself completely captivated by you.  Since he set his eyes on you, he sensed a massive contrast between you and the girls that he frequently came in contact with.  William’s mind began to race with questions about you; he needed to know more about you.  At the same time, and as self-assured as William normally was, the thought of asking a global celebrity for at least her number, had his stomach tied in knots.

William was up.  Everyone knew he was a sniper, so obviously scoring was not going to be an issue.  The questions related to Canada were generally the same as the Swedish ones, and William answered them with ease.

Each time you glanced at William, your heart started to race a little more.  You had made a snap judgement about his personality, based solely on his exterior, which completely backfired on you.    He proved to be warm and charming, with a smile that never seemed to leave his face.  You contemplated if you had ever met a man who smiled as much as William seemed to.  

The host’s voice brings you back down to earth.

“OK, William - in order to get to the bonus question, name three of your favourite Canadian music artists” the host asked, glancing over at you with a wink and a smile.

It seemed obvious enough that William would include you in the answer, since you were 8 feet away from him, but instead, he rhymed off Justin Bieber, Drake and The Weeknd.  He shot the puck and satisfied with his response, smiled at the host.

There was an odd silence as the onlookers seemed surprised that William appeared to snub you, on camera no less.  

William read the room and looked over at you with a confused look.  You smiled back at him and shrugged your shoulders.  

The host, trying to assess the situation, looking to find some humour in it, chuckles and says “Ok, I guess William’s not a fan of Y/N it seems” which was met with some low-key snickering from the crew.

“Wait - what?” William says, half laughing - his cheeks starting to burn.  His expression was mostly like a deer caught in the headlights.

You, sensing his embarrassment, said “It’s all good…” you giggled and looked at the host “Those would be my choices…I’m not necessarily everyone’s cup of tea” you say modestly.

William’s head swiftly turned in your direction.  His eyebrows lifted and his mouth dropped open as he realized his unintentional SNAFU.

The onlookers shook their heads and laughed; some came over and gave William some hearty pats on his shoulder, accompanied by some good natured ribbing.

You could see William trying to laugh it off but as he looked at you with a combined expression of awkwardness and unease, and your heart cracked a little for him.  

The host waves her hands and grabs everyone’s attention again.

“Alright, William, moving along - for the bonus question.  If you answer this correctly, then we’ll need a tie breaker between you and Y/N.  The question is a geography based one”.

William groaned and his face lowered into his gloved hands.  

The host continued, “How many territories are there in Canada?”

Someone in the group decided to quietly hum the Jeopardy theme song which was of no help to William.

William inhaled, squinted his face and apprehensively answered “2?”

“Ooooh - sorry William!  Soooo clooooose!” the host says in faux dismay.  “There’s actually 3”.

The host mercifully wraps up the segment declaring you the winner of the trivia challenge.  William taps his stick on the ice as recognition, and everyone begins to disperse.

William makes his way over to you; his dazzling eyes are fixed on your face, a wide, almost mischievous grin, spans his angelic visage.

“Are you sure you’re not Swedish?  I wasn’t sure I even knew all those answers” he joked.  

“So…who’s your next victim with these shoots?” William asks coyly.

“Whoa - really…victim?” you answer feigning shock with a side of a phoney ‘how dare you’.

“Aren’t you the one who slayed me during this little stint…snubbing me entirely” you laughed,  nudging William in the arm.  

William groans “You have no idea how badly I’m going to be chirped about this.  I really don't know what I was thinking.  Fuck it - I’ll blame on it on the concussion.” 

“Oh my gosh - honestly, it was really pretty funny. It wasn’t like you were saying I suck…unless that’s exactly what you were trying to say” you dead-panned, raising an eyebrow at him.  “We might have a problem then if that's the case,” you joked.

William laughs “Tell you what…I do really feel bad…do you maybe want to grab something to eat later on, if you’re not busy?”

Your heart leapt inside your chest into your throat. 

“I wish I could but I have plans with some old friends…I haven't seen them in ages so they’ll be pissed if I blow them off.  I’m here for another week or so - maybe we can swing another time?” you said, hopefully.

“For sure…here…” Williams grabs his phone from his pocket “Can you add your number?”

William hands you the phone and you start typing the digits of your number.  Under the contact name, you typed in "Can I be your #4?", saved it and handed the phone back to William.  Amanda calls out for you and William to get a picture together so William quickly jams his phone back into his pocket and drapes his arm around your shoulder.  You gently extended your arm around his waist thinking that seemed to be the only place on his body that made sense.  With that mere touch, externally you smiled for the camera, but internally, were acutely aware of the faint but noticeable throb between your legs that William’s mere touch seemed to incite.  "Keep it together Y/N, for fuck sakes" you joked to yourself.  

"It was so great to meet you William - it was a ton of fun" you laughed, taking your hand out of the hockey glove and extending it to William.

“Trivia isn’t really my thing but you definitely made it more interesting” William said as he extended his arms out for an embrace.  

You managed to pull the plug on the wild smut show that had already started in your brain, kept it light, and while hugging him, you patted his back gently and pulled away.

“See you, William,” you said grinning.

William wanted to come up with something clever, something extra but his brain just wasn’t engaging. Instead, he smiled bashfully and simply said “See you…I hope”.

Later on, in the parking lot, William sat in his car looking through his contacts, searching for your name.  His heart sank when he went to the first letter of your name and found nothing.  

He scrolled back to the top of his contacts, his thumb slowly grazing the glass to look at every single contact name he had.  “Shit - I need to get rid of some of these” he thought as he bypassed a myriad of girls' names from previous encounters.  

William laughs when he finally discovers the pseudonym you gave yourself and sits there for a moment, grinning like the Cheshire Cat; his chest fills up with a warm sensation unlike anything he’s ever experienced before.  

He arrived home to his downtown condo that he shared with his teammate, Kasperi.  

“Hey - how’d it go?  How was she?” Kappy asked, not looking up from the TV screen.

William grabbed water from the fridge and walked to the living room where Kasperi lounged on the couch, almost enveloped by the overstuffed cushions that were strewn about.  Immersed in Call of Duty, Kasperi only could mutter “Fuck” multiple times in a row.

“Good. She’s really nice actually” William said, not wanting to elaborate on his newly developed interest.  

“Is she as hot up close as she looks on screen?  That video she was in - you know….that song” Kasperi hums the tune of one of your more popular solo hits “she’s hardly wearing anything under a buttoned-down dress shirt and mmmm…she’s in stilettos” Kappy mused, eyes still fixed on the screen.

“Jesus, Kap - get a grip” William forced a chuckle, trying not to let his annoyance show.  

“You wanna play for a bit?” Kasperi asked, mumbling expletives as William declined.

“Gonna go for a nap - see you in a few”.  William disappears into his bedroom.  He flops onto the bed and rolls over, grabbing the pillow on the right side.  He lay there thinking of you; he can hardly believe it but he’s already dying to see you again.  He grabs his phone and Googles your name.  First, he pulls up images of you - everything from award ceremonies and galas to magazine covers.

William continues to scroll through the search results, pulling up a video that a fan made on YouTube.  It’s a video montage of you, at various events over the years.  The song “More than a Woman” by the BeeGees plays in the background; the music somehow further enhances every movement of your elegant figure and every detail of your radiant face. 

As you smile for the cameras.

As you laugh with your bandmates.

As you take the stage in front of thousands of fans.

Ugh.  As you looked at your (now ex-) boyfriend in the eyes while walking the red carpet, your arm looped through his.

That last one hurt.

William flipped his phone over and grabbed the pillow once again.  He closed his eyes, imagining the pillow was your body lying next to him, the first few moments of meeting you were on a continuous loop in his mind, until sleep finally found him.

****************************************************************

After the segment with William had wrapped, you headed to the dressing room to change out of your skates.

Evelyn breezes through the door after waving good-bye and saying thanks to the small entourage that escorted her to the dressing room.   

“That went well…” 

Evelyn’s British accent, and the way she enunciated her words, seemed to always sound sardonic, whether it was intentional or not.  You had learned that it was just best to stick with the facts throughout conversations with Evelyn; as your manager, you learned fast that she often wasn’t in the mood to hear about frilly musings other than in your songs.  

“Poor soul looked completely lost after he rhymed off every fucking Canadian singer, except you” she smirked.

“Jesus. he picked three of his favourite performers that he listens to, and they are all amazing,” you laughed.  “He’s not required to be a fan of mine,” you said as you nudged Evelyn’s arm. “He felt bad though - he asked me out to make up for it, so that was nice” you trailed off, your cheeks inadvertently blushing at the thought.

“So that’s why you gave him your number” Evelyn smiled.  “It’s nice to see you finally getting back on the horse”.  Evelyn reaches into her long Burberry coat, pulling out her phone to open a newly delivered text message.  “Play your cards right, you may get to ride him too.  You could use a good…” she said in a low tone, neither taking her eyes off the screen or bothering to finish her sentence.  

You scoffed, but it wasn’t like the thought hadn’t already entered your mind.

Amanda appeared at the door and invited you and Evelyn to head to the players lounge for a quick bite.   

On the way,  Amanda listed off which of the Maple Leafs would be taking part in the next segment.  All very familiar names to you and much to your delight, the players in question were waiting for you in the lounge.  

Tyler Bozak, Nazem Kadri, Morgan Rielly and Jake Gardiner stood gathered around the kitchen counter, deep in a spirited debate about popular wrestlers from the eighties.

Morgan appeared to be the bonafide WWE expert and was busy putting the rest to shame as he rhymed off some of the greats.

“Wasn’t there a female manager for….shit, who was it?” Kadri asked, snapping his fingers as he wracked his brain for the answer.  

“Fuck….what was her name….ah shit - I’m drawing a blank….” Morgan said, pressing the palm of his hand to his forehead.  “Fuck me, this is gonna drive me nuts now”.

The group snickered at him.

 “Some expert you are” Jake said, poking Morgan repeatedly in the ribs.

“Miss Elizabeth” you said with a smile as you approached the group.  “She was Macho Man Randy Savage’s manager”.

Morgan’s head swivelled around as he said “Awh - yeah!  Thank God….fuck - I just drew a total blank” Morgan said, apparent relief washing over him.  

Introductions weren’t needed with the 4 players as you had briefly met each of the men at a charity function the year before.  Each gave you a friendly hug as you all continued on with the lively conversation.   

“We had about 5 TV channels growing up, there wasn’t cable out in the country - we just had a TV antenna and a router” you laughed.  “I think it was the Hamilton channel that showed WWE reruns Saturdays at noon.  Sort of became a fan of the 80’s wrestlers, whether I wanted to be or not '' you joked.  “I always thought Miss Elizabeth was so beautiful…” you mused.

The men all made their own noises, nodding and affirming that Miss Elizabeth was indeed, well…hot.

Not long after, Amanda summoned you all to a common area of the lounge, where the next video segment was to take place.  You glanced over and could see Evelyn and Amanda, deep in conversation.  You usually wouldn’t notice or care what Evelyn was doing; you and your Manager had an incredible working relationship and you trusted her implicitly.  That was, until you had a sneaking suspicion that she, the host and Amanda were hatching some plan involving you for the next video. 

Before you could worry about it for too long, you and the 4 players were instructed to sit in the director-style chairs that had been lined up for you.

The host gives the directives of a game that is something between Truth or Dare and Never Have I Ever.  The questions that were directed at the players weren’t anything risqué, but were enough to cause a rumpus between the men, resulting in some hearty banter.   

Once the verbal melee ceased and everyone starts to settle again, the host turns toward you with a knowing smile.  

“We’ve left Y/N to last.  You may not know this but Y/N’s Maple Leaf fandom spans back to when she was just a small girl.  We’ve designed a very special Who’d You Rather between the Leafs past…. and present….players” she says drawing out each of the last few words emphatically.  “With Y/N being unattached currently, we decided this might be fun…” the host says teasingly. 

You shot a look at Evelyn, vowing to murder her later for this.

Evelyn smiles back at you, gesturing for you to hurry up and get this thing going.

On the monitor in front of you, a picture of Dion Phaneuf, the current Captain of the Leafs, appears next to a picture of former Captain Wendel Clark.  The players whooped and hollered at your choices and you audibly groaned, not knowing exactly how to navigate the choices.

“Oh my God - how am I supposed to choose? So what, this is who I’d like to date?  I actually know Dion - I’m friends with his wife too….” you trail off.  “Oh - but I love Wendel too” you giggle.

“Just so you all know” you say to the crowd, motioning towards your surroundings, “this…this whole situation has to be among my worst nightmares…” 

As the host cycles through a few more pictures, each of the 4 players giving their (unsolicited) input, albeit mockingly, as though they themselves were on a dating show.  

Your adoration for Felix Potvin was known to the crew, thanks to Evelyn, so naturally, Felix’s picture appears next to Morgan’s.  “Ooof, sorry Morgan…I have to go with my man, my precious Felix” you said, reaching over to tap Morgan’s knee.  

“Fine then…” Morgan deadpanned, with the slightest smirk.

One after the other, you choose Felix over the image that appears on the opposite slide.  

The host smiles and says “Devoted Potvin admirer, you have to love that!  If you had the chance to meet him, what would you say?” 

You were suddenly worried Felix would pop out of the woodwork, the look of excited anticipation mixed with worry crosses your face.  You jokingly peer over both of your shoulders and respond “Je veux dire ‘C'est un plaisir de vous rencontre.  Je suis tellement un grand fan de toi.  I don’t think I would be able to get out much more than that”, you laugh.

“Ok, this is the last image.  You just met this player this morning and managed to squeak past him to win in the trivia challenge” the host says, eyes fixed on your face.

William’s headshot from the Marlies appears on the screen, next to your first hockey love.  The 4 men sat next to you chime in playfully with a series of “ooooh….Willy Nylander…”

You stay composed looking at the picture, trying not to appear as flustered as you felt.  In one short meeting, William had actually made an impact on you.  Yes, you found him breathtakingly gorgeous, but it was far more than that.  There was a kindness about him; something about him seemed so refreshing and you found yourself really wanting a chance to talk with him more.

You try to suppress a smile but you end up with a wide grin and cheeks flushed.  This shouldn’t be a big deal - but admitting that you might like a boy sent your mind hurtling back to 9th grade, when you were meek and awkward and would sooner die than allow a boy to see that you might think he’s cute.

But, you decide to play it safe and bypass William’s picture, just willing for this segment to be over.  “I’m sticking with Felix,” you laugh.

“Felix it is!” the host says as she gives the appearance of cheering your choice.  

Once the production crew deems they can wrap the segment, you slide off your chair and mingle with the 4 players and others that had gathered around for a quick snack before packing up.

Evelyn saunters up to you and whispers “You beautiful, chinless wonder* - you should have picked the boy…”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head.  Secretly, you had chosen him in your mind; you couldn’t stop thinking about him.  ‘Fuck Y/N…you’re sunk’ is the only thought you had toying in your head.

“You can just keep your opinions to yourself,” you laughed toward Evelyn.  “Let’s just go, I gotta get ready for dinner soon”.

(*chinless wonder is apparently British slang for a coward)

[walkman-cat]

i’ve gotta know abt ur little guy orpheus alabaster whats his deal,,, i keep seeing ur little doodles and tags and feeling curriiooooosiityyyyyyyy

HI PIP!!

orpheus alabaster my BOY !! he's so silly <3 (also this is going to be a LONGGG post so it's under a cut) (he's my little guy i've got a lot to say about him)

He's like the city equivalent of a world-famous detective (one half of a detective agency working out of the attic of a curiosity/antique shop in the oldest part of the city)– he's a household name, and is known for taking on pretty much every case that he comes across (except, curiously, the biggest unsolved mystery the city has ever seen). Basically, Orph is the detective of the gentleman thief-detective dynamic and the watsonian narrator-detective dynamic (i love detectives <3)

He's observant, and will not rest until he's solved the case (to his detriment), and would risk his life if it meant saving the lives of others (to his detriment). He's got a terrible memory (so he writes everything down in one of his numerous notebooks) and he's not great with people (he's trying, somewhat. Cecil's usually the one who talks to clients). He's always down to work around the law/the watch (the city's law enforcement). He's very nosy (Cecil also is, they're perfect for each other).

He's also basically all those memes that are like "kinda gay to be a detective [etc etc]". While his partner (Cecil– they started the detective agency together!) has been pining over him since pretty much when they met (6 years before the story starts), Orpheus fell much harder and discovered this in the past year (he's having a Great Time. demiromantic king !!). They're so silly and devoted to each other (they call each other "Mr. Alabaster" and "Mr. Meyers" theyre sickening) and it's a whole Thing.

Also! Orph's the new incarnation of the forgotten/illegal/dead god of deceit and dreams (he's a detective and also the patron god of thieves and liars wbwbwb– this amuses me greatly). He's got a complicated relationship with his identity and personhood (which may have something to do with him taking on faces and personas at the drop of a hat) and isn't quite sure if he counts as something alive anymore.

Also to do with the fact that he's a kinda-not-really dead god, Orpheus isn't quite alive; he's a believable fascimile of something living, but he doesn't bleed when cut, he's cold to the touch, and sometimes Cecil can swear that he isn't breathing. He died not too long before he arrived in the city (and has the ligature marks on his neck to prove it) and came back, but even though he'd love to have come back wrong he came back exactly the same as he was before.

Here are some extra/funky facts about Orph:

he plays the piano!! he doesn't do it often for reasons he's never told Cecil but he's very good at it and has played for him in the past

he wanted to be a poet when he was younger, and still sometimes jots lines down in between all his other notes

his hands are perpetually inkstained, his fingertips are nearly all blackened from ink

the only times he's been truly excited for his clientele to be some of the city's richest are for hermes vetch heists. they're also the only times he's happy to have not solved the case (he's got a soft spot for the thief and misses him greatly)(he keeps reminiscing about heists to kit's face without knowing kit is hermes vetch and it's so funny to me)

he's mixed race (this isnt very important story wise, but it's important to me (also mixed race)) (so's kit)

he's non-binary!! (he/him enby times!!)

he's also a trans allegory for reasons i will not go into (they contain secretsssss)

he wouldn't like to say he has a favourite method of murder, but it's poisons. he likes to have an excuse to infodump and show off his knowledge of poisons

he probably would look real nice if he put any effort in to how he looks. he doesn't, so he looks like if a cat got drenched then blow-dried and rolled in ink

he hates having anything touching his neck, especially if they're wrapped around his neck. he will suffer and be cold if he has to be

the only times he'd overcome his need to put others before himself is when cecil (and to an extent kit/hermes vetch) is in danger (they're his best friends !!)

he often stares unblinkingly when thinking. it's a wee bit intimidating

his family is basically just matchsticks kelly (the guy who owns the antique shop who took him in), and cecil (later it'll also include kit), he doesn't talk about his family

he's known about cecil's sleeping habits and tendency to clamber over the rooftops for 6 years and still gets jumpscared by him clambering into his window in the dead of night

[djarinsbeskar]

Foul - Boxer!Din AU

Definition - To break one of boxing’s rules (i.e. hitting an opponent below the navel, ear or while they are down), which can ultimately lead to point deductions if they are repeated.

A/N: The results of my Boxer!AU poll told me that the majority were interested in a jealous/protective boxer so I hope I have delivered! As always, relaxed fit = unedited, no beta. We also have a sneaky introduction to Paz in the Boxer verse which is super exciting! His concept art has been completed by the insanely talented @ronnieiswriting when I said I saw a mix of Jason Momoa and Winston Duke as our heavy. PLEASE heed the warnings in this chapter. There is nothing explicit but the topics hinted at might be triggering.

Word Count: 7k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: SMUT! (unprotected sex), blood and violence, toxic masculinity and derogatory speech, hints at discussions of non-con, somewhat possessive behavior, spanking, dom!Din and everything that comes with it.

Main Masterlist | Boxer Materlist

He might as well have been in hell. A colosseum of decaying humanity and dirt floors that erupted in a burst of dust like poisonous ash every time his next opponent fell. The hollow thump of pure muscle meeting the ground of the makeshift ring only drowned by the cheers of spectators. Masked, shadowed—unseen as they dropped hundreds – thousands sometimes – on which gladiator would remain standing in the end.

He felt like a king, a god among men within the confines of his realm of rope and canvas. It was easy to forget—standing under the spotlights that highlighted the sweat and blood and sculpted beauty of primal masculinity that it was a hollow victory any time he fought in the seedy underground rings of Akiva.

Every gladiator was a slave. Even the victor.

Why the fuck did he think it was a good idea to let you come to one of these fights?

“Enough!”

Paz’s unassailable strength banded around Din’s chest, pinning his arms to his side—attempting to contain lightning in a glass jar. Sweat, blood—it all dripped into Din’s eyes as he growled at his opponent, passed out in the middle of the dirt ring—face swollen and puffy from Din’s fists.

Laser focus and animosity spilled from charcoal eyes as he tried to break free of his friends hold with a vicious yank forward of powerful shoulder and an unfaltering purpose. The bastard had it coming. One round a few punches wasn’t enough to slake Din’s anger, the fumes of rage seeping into his skin and clouding his senses until all he could think of was making the asshole on the ground before him pay.

The practiced speed that Din wrapped his hands slowed at the rowdy group on the other side of the room. Dammit, for all the money they brought in, could these cheapskates not provide separate fucking changing rooms so he didn’t have to be subjected to idiots jacking themselves up on testosterone and false hope?

But pissing contests and fragile masculinity weren’t what caught his attention. He could tune that bullshit out like a fine art. What caught Din’s attention was the obvious death wish one of his possible opponents had – if he even managed to get that far up the ranks to Din – when he waved a red flag in front of the boxers’ metaphorical bull.

“See that one in the front row? You know the one I’m talking about.”

Bawdy agreements and asinine gestures raked up Din’s spine, thorny—and prickling nerves of instinct that made him pause the music blaring in his ears. He fucking hated the scum he came across in these fights. Gang members, criminals—the dredges of humanity he sometimes worried he was part of.

“Gonna get her on her knees choking on my cock before the night is out. Sluts like that love titles, champions—why else do they attend? Good excuse to win tonight, eh fellas?”

“Do you wanna completely destroy your career?” Paz yelled over the chortles and raucous cheers for more, for revenge—for everything under the poor fallacy of a sun that strung in dim, bald bulbs along the notoriously infamous Avika fighting ring.

Din thought you would be safe, arrogantly assuming people would avoid even looking at you once they saw who you were with. And you had been—you were safe, but even he couldn’t protect you from the thoughts of others.

The larger man struggled with him, dragging him out of the ring when it was obvious his words were falling on deaf ears. All Din could hear was the little pricks voice in his head from hours before.

Din stood.

Inhaled, exhaled—tried those bullshit breathing exercises that were supposed to focus his mind before a fight. Help to rein in a temper like his from overflowing in devastating tidal waves to destroy all around him. Din didn’t lose his temper often—but when he did, it was lethal.

The breathing exercises didn’t work.

Because the idiot kept talking.

“Did you see the ass on that?”

Leers sounded from his group of friends. Encouraging the vile words that Din always knew came from a man who felt entitled to a woman’s body. He had seen enough of the underbelly of the world to know what that led to time and again. Din might have been shameless in his youth and even until recently when it came to sex, to one night stands, to women—but he fucking respected the girls he fucked or didn’t fuck.

“Traipsing around in a dress like that? She’s looking for the attention,” the asshole defended himself when one of his party voiced an alternative point of view. They were promptly shut down and didn’t speak again.

Din’s blood turned to ice. An image of you running a hand down his arm on your way to your seat when you parted ways for him to get ready, dress sinfully tight but effortlessly classy—a zip front he was dying to pull open with his teeth later that night.

“It’ll look so good with my cock buried in it…”

The ice in his blood turned to fury, white hot and molten as he tied off the tape at his wrists—throwing the roll into the dingy locker he had been given for the evening. The clatter of noise from where it slammed against the metal back was the only warning he was planning on giving them. The lull of conversation was fleeting, his warning going unheeded—when dim-witted morons didn’t read the murder in his gaze.

Looks like they weren’t nearly as intelligent as the pigs he thought them to be.

Grabbing his water bottle and phone, Din stalked towards the chipped door—distracting himself with a text of “don’t go anywhere alone in this place, sweetheart. Ask Paz to go with you” sent to you without a second thought.

The immediate response of “Yes yes I know, for the thousandth time. Don’t worry and focus on yourself” did little to assuage the roar of blood in his ears. There was only one thing he heard over the noise, one thing as his vision became hued in red and fixated on a single target.

“Wonder if she’ll let me fuck her there too—can’t imagine she’s a virgin but her ass will still probably be tighter than her cunt.”

Bald headed and littered in scars and tattoos of a gang known for their viciousness, the other boxer – if he could even be called that – thrust vulgarly into the air, mimicking the hold he would have on the girl. Din’s girl.

The fucker had a death wish.

And Din was only too happy to play the part of the grim reaper.

His friends voice hardly registered over that same ringing in his ears, the roar of protective aggression at the lecherous sneer on the other man’s face who now lay in a heap in the dirt, the filth he spewed about his masseuse, his girl. How beady eyes, cold and villainous dared to drift away from Din before the bell sounded—over his shoulder, to where he knew you were sitting. Knowing your body had been tainted by the gaze of a man who would sooner take what he wanted from you by force than look at you with anything akin to the respect you deserved—it made something snap inside of Din.

And he attacked.

He was lucky he had only been disqualified.

He was damn lucky no one called the cops.

But the perks of underground fighting, was that everyone who attended had something to hide. And no one wanted to be caught in the middle of shady transactions or betting on fighters to beat each other to a pulp. Hell, the savagery Din subjected the other guy to was exactly what half the fuckers who showed up hoped to see.

Din wasn’t just a nameless street fighter though, not anymore. He had something to lose. Any smear on his record for assault and he would be suspended from tournament participation quicker than the asshole’s body dropped after a crushing blow under the jaw by Din’s right uppercut.

Thank fuck Din’s main sponsor was equally as shady. A good man by Din’s logic, but merciless when it came to succeeding. Din being benched was the surest way to make his benefactors patience run out. No, Paz was right—Boba even more so when he clocked Din good in the cheek after Paz wrestled the irate male out of the ring.

“You fucking idiot, bloodlust is an ugly image, boy—”

“I am not a boy—” Din snapped at Boba, teeth bared and bloody from his split lip, neck straining when he spat the words viciously at his long-time coach. He ran his tongue over the metallic tang of blood before spitting it out of his mouth onto the dirt flooring by the chaotic rows of metal seating.

“You almost killed a guy in the ring, you little shit,” Boba snarled with equal venom, matching the anger reflected in Din’s gaze with furious sense Din didn’t want to witness.

“Let me go,” was all Din growled, eyes never leaving his coach’s even when Paz loosened his arms around his chest. Heaving, coal black eyes darkened dangerously and stabbed the former boxer with a dare to try and restrain him again. The other man shook a rope of dreadlock that had come loose from the strip of leather he kept his hair tied in and made to say something when Din interrupted,

“Where is she?”

Paz closed his mouth, heavy brows furrowing over his eyes as recognition dawned in their dark hues,

“Is that what this is about? Dammit, vod—it’s not like she’s your girlfriend, isn’t that what you always say?”

“Don’t fucking try me tonight—” Din snapped aggressively, the threatening hum between the two men charged to dangerous voltage.

“Din?”

Your voice washed over him – aloe on the burns his fury had scorched his skin with – and he was making his way over to you in the next moment, mind battling with instinct as he ignored the calls and curses of his friends.

Mine.

Not yours—

Mine.

He moved with feral grace, parting the sea of people who bleated from the sidelines but cowered in his presence once his attention was facing them and there was no canvas or rope to separate boxer from spectator. They were lucky. He didn’t see them. Would step on them if they were stupid enough to stay in his path. All he could see, was you—watching him with confusion and concern marring those pretty features, absent of fear in the face of an incensed, adrenaline fueled boxer post fight.

He exhaled a growl as he came to stand before you, the sound cavernous and deep in his chest—the hands you had lifted to examine his face intercepted by his own when he grabbed them. His fingers wrapped fully around your wrists, and he was reminded of how fragile you were – even if you worked out whenever you could and had a will of iron that would make you whack him for saying that – and just how easily a man like him, any of the fighters here tonight—could hurt you.

Never.

They wouldn’t dare.

Not with him around.

But how could they know?

How would they know to stay the fuck away from you?

Knuckles stained with dirt and blood; his hand rasped against the softness of your palm as he dragged you in the direction of the unused backstage waiting room fighters had been offered as a changing room. Where this whole fucking thing started.

“Din—Din, what the hell happened up there?”

You jogged behind him to keep up with his pace, long legs taking him farther than your shorter ones could when confined to the heels you had worn for the night out. He stalked through the dimly lit corridors to the flaky, chipped door with a temporary sign on lined paper with “ATHLETES” scrawled along the front of it like some ironic joke.

He almost bent the worn, cheap metal handle in half—nearly pulled it from its socket with how hard he tore the door open and dragged you over the threshold inside.

You whirled on him with a huff, eyes flashing and hands planting on your hips in growing annoyance.

“Din will you just—”

You didn’t get another word out.

His wrapped hands cupped your cheeks between them, his mouth on yours hungrily when he bent over you. Biting, clawing, desperate—the kiss was more a battle of tongue and teeth than anything else. There was nothing soft, nothing slow or affectionate about the way his teeth sank into your bottom lip so hard you gasped. The way the blood seeping from his split lip painted yours in a crimson rouge—smeared and varnishing you in a visceral mark of his claim.

“Mine,” he snarled unknowingly into your mouth, lapping his tongue along the prairies of your tastebuds, plundering the depths of your mouth to brand every inch of you he could reach. Inside and out. His hands had the same idea, forming down over the shape of your curves as he walked you back blindly to the disused vanity pushed against the closest wall. Topped with a row of mirrors undoubtedly used by performers for whatever this place had once been used for, the glass was now aged with discoloration.

It didn’t matter.

He didn’t have eyes for anything but you as he hiked your legs up to perch you on the edge, your fingers curled into the taut muscles at his neck and clawing down over the sweat slick muscles of his pecs—catching on flat nipples that made ripples of pleasure heat his body further. Mad him tangle a hand in your hair, yank your head back harshly and meet your eyes with dark desire before dropping to your neck. His newest target.

“Din…” your irritated, questioning tone had morphed to fervent sighs. His tongue mapped a trail from the corner of your mouth – tasting the tang of his own blood – to the rapid tattoo of your pulse, a delicate sheen of perspiration beginning to shimmer on your flushed skin from the arousal. Another layer of flavor for him to get drunk on.

So fucking hot under his hands.

So beautiful.

So his.

“Mine,” he repeated into the curve of your neck, framed by tremulous stretches of muscle either side that he carved with scrapes of his teeth to leave tracks of slow fading pink grazes before he bit into it. Your legs – already open and inviting him to settle between them – crossed at the ankles around his narrow hips to keep him close. It was fucking intoxicating the way he could make you feel, the desperate need he had for you.

Months of sleeping together, of knowing his body so intimately had given you a rare insight to his emotions whether he knew it or not. And you knew he didn’t need to talk right now, he needed to fuck. To work through whatever had affected him so badly in hard kisses and rough hands on your soft flesh. It didn’t stop your stomach from flipping at his possessive words though, deliriously spoken but whispering the unacknowledged desires you had for him beyond his body.

“Yours,” you admitted before you could stop yourself, your hand cupping under his jaw to lift his mouth back to yours. His raspy moan at your agreement turned positively filthy when you carded short nails through his damp hair. Din was weak to having his hair stroked, his staunch dominance buckling in violent shivers of pleasure when you dragged those skilled fingers down the back of his skull and neck.

Traipsing around in a dress like that…

His eyes flew open, and he broke the kiss—ripped his mouth from yours to press his forehead to yours, eyes searching while his free hand ran indulgently up your torso to the neckline of your dress,

“Never let anyone disrespect you, sweetheart—” he rumbled, his fingers already undoing the zip of the dress, the nude pink material tempting to the eye and celebrating those features you were most proud of—that he found irresistible to know you loved. That someone could make you uncomfortable in those clothes… fucker. He snarled and pressed a long kiss to your mouth, large hands spreading the sides of the dress open wide – no underwear, baby? – and shucked the material down your arms to leave you bare before him.

His appreciation for your body – fucking gorgeous – was only tampered by the frustration he had with himself at the noise of confusion you made at his words. Of course, you hadn’t heard anything that asshole had said thankfully—but fuck, he couldn’t get it out of his head. You read his desperation somehow, and nodded slowly with puzzled eyes, teeth sinking into your swollen bottom lip as you leaned back on your hands.

So trusting…

Fuck.

It made alarm and something akin to fear rise swell uncomfortably in his throat.

He tried again.

“Never let anyone take advantage of you,” he whispered against your mouth in earnest, his hands running up your bare thighs to press his thumbs into the seams of your legs and hips, “tell me—”

His mouth dropped to your collarbone, funneling those feelings into lapping down to your heaving breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth with a groan and befuddling your mind to his request until he nipped the swollen peak – say it, baby – and caused your head to fall back against the mirror,

“Yes—yes,” you moaned, “I won’t—”

He snarled internally, dammit. Hearing you say it didn’t help. He wanted to say how he wouldn’t let anyone disrespect you, how he wouldn’t let anyone ever take advantage of you. But he couldn’t. Had to frame it like advice he would give any woman he knew instead of speaking it like the promise he wanted to make.

Din had been fucking you for the last few months now, exclusively after only a few months—but it never went beyond that. He had no reason, no excuse to be worried over your life or safety or what you did when you weren’t in his bed. He wasn’t expected to be involved in your life the way a friend or family member was. Not the way a boyfriend was.

He didn’t do relationships. Never had. Too much trouble and frankly—he liked his privacy, his space—and liked not being accountable to anyone but himself. The consequences of any shitty decisions he made would fall on him and him alone. If he demanded that of the women he slept with and then insisted on inserting himself into their lives in the next breath, he would be a hypocrite. And Din hated hypocrites.

He couldn’t.

But fuck. He never wanted to hear someone speak that way about you, never wanted them to think they had the slightest chance with a woman like you. His blood boiled at the notion of someone else’s hands on you, his tempered flared when he imagined your pleasure or smiles, or laughter give to someone who didn’t deserve you.

Like he did?

Fuck no, he knew he didn’t.

He never said he wasn’t selfish though, and he coveted you with sinful greed.

“Fuck me, baby—please, please—” you mewled into his neck as your hands that had started all of this with that first massage, fit into the sliver of space between your bodies to stroke along his cock over his shorts impatiently. His head fell back, and his mind blissfully emptied for a moment, grunting your name at the frisson of pleasure before those damned memories resurfaced again.

Look at the ass on that.

That.

Her. You weren’t a thing, a possession. You were—

He snarled. Misplaced anger manifesting in aggressive passion as he grabbed your wrist from where you stroked him to pin behind your back on the vanity.

“Always so eager, aren’t you—” he grinned darkly when you nodded, “turn around.”

The command was delivered low and dangerous, more a rumble of noise—deep echoes of jungle predators crackling like the kindling of threat, inspiring awareness that one wrong move would be fatal. But you never made a wrong move—not for as long as he had known you. Whether it was alleviating a pain deep in his muscles that had bothered him for months or pushing yourself slowing off the vanity to your feet as you were now—you always knew what he needed.

Wisps of hair fell into his eyes as he watched you—the decided turn of your naked body to dace the mirror—eyes never leaving his even as they caught them again in the aged glass. Bending forward, your ass pressed into the front of his shorts, and you rested your elbows on the vanity.

Perfect.

He didn’t realize he had whispered the word as he pressed his mouth between your shoulder blades, tongue trailing down the arch of your spine while his hands kneaded plush cheeks—spreading them and exposing your slick cunt to the cool air. The hitches in your breath, small squirms of your hips for relief—they all fed into his desire for you.

And he desired you. Constantly.

“I’m gonna eat your pussy until you can’t stand, baby—and then I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t speak,” he muttered against the shell of your ear, massive bulk bowed over your back and shadowed eyes – the duality of warm walnut and lethal obsidian – bore into yours through the glass.

“I want them all to know who you belong to,” he nipped your ear, flicking his tongue along the cartilage—the black ink on his back catching the light as his muscles rippled with movement, a roll of pleasure from your ass grinding back against him with a whimper of his name, “so don’t be quiet this time, sweetheart.”

Your eyes fluttered open molasses slow from where they had dropped closed at his words,

“What—what hap—” you tried to turn your head, the concern mingled with lust in those gorgeous, honest eyes making warning bells blare painfully – too close – and he silenced you with a kiss. Swallowing the worry that hinted at feelings that surpassed those expected from a fuck buddy, he buried it deep inside himself, in the shadows like a coward. To be locked away where he would remain safe from it.

Your tongue grew sloppy with a moan when he ground his crotch into your ass—dragging the solid thickness of his clothed cock between your soaked folds and up against your tight rear entrance.

Wonder if she’ll let me take her there…

Bastard.

He sucked on your tongue with a groan of your name, hand releasing your cheeks to fan up your ribcage and cup your breasts. You jerked in sensitivity when rough hands pinched sore nipples – he fucking loved how sensitive your tits got just before your period. The cry you released was nothing short of musical, tempting him lower as he kissed down your spine—wrapped hands sanding down over your ribs again when he lapped around the rim of your ass, circling it before he traced lower.

You were dripping.

He dropped to his knees behind you, eyes drunken with an ingrained pride that he was the one in this position, looking at the petals of your swollen pussy glistening with arousal he inspired from just a few kisses and rolls of his hips. He kept his eyes on the steady trickle of wetness from your twitching entrance, his teeth grazing distractedly down the back of your thigh as he did so.

A finger ruddy with flecks of dried blood caught a string of your arousal – don’t waste a drop – and he sucked it between his lips with an approving groan, the noise of your whimpers the perfect accompaniment. Blood and lust. The essence of humanity, that was what he tasted when he sucked his finger clean. It tasted like life. And he wanted more.

A sharp crack echoed through the room when his hand came down hard on one cheek, and again... and again—each strike making that dripping wetness gush until he couldn’t hold back anymore. He buried his face in your cunt, nosing at your entrance and tongue spreading puffy lips apart so he could trace in pitter patter swipes through your folds—greedily gathering anything he could get on his tongue before swallowing. Dehydrated on the sands of depravity and sordid company—your cunt was an oasis of relief where he eagerly drank his fill.

You tried to move, your hips slamming up against the edge of the vanity – that’ll bruise – and you keened with a shuddering cry when his mouth simply followed your attempt to escape the onslaught of pleasure that was too much too soon.

“Fuck—fuckfuckfuck—” you gasped, dropping a hand back to tangle in his hair, dragging him closer despite your protests. Mm, he loved when you got like this—overstimulated from the first touch. No matter how much you whined, no matter how many times he wiped tears that smudged your makeup when he unraveled orgasm after orgasm from the knots inside you—he knew you loved the intensity as much as he did.

He spanked you again – take it – your cheeks red and beautiful when he spread them side for him to spit directly onto your quivering cunt. His saliva dribbled and mixed with your juices to gather over your clit, his mouth forming over the little bud enthusiastically, urged by your slow ruts back against his face to streak his face with your essence.

“More—” you whimpered.

“Greedy—” he growled back.

The sound of your breathless laugh meshed delightfully with the swallow of a moan – guttural and primal – and made his cock twitch in his shorts. His hips snapped up uselessly from where he was kneeling—finding no purchase or warm embrace to bury itself in as his tongue took that pleasure for itself.

It licked and curled with practiced, seemingly illogical strokes along your clit and up to your entrance—sloppily kissing it before his tongue dove into your tight depths, thumb working in quick circles over your clit. He knew exactly what to do to make you come undone.

Your first orgasm was sudden—strong and surprising. He hadn’t even fucking fingered you and you were already spasming around nothing. Your muscles tensed as you went on your toes to lean even further on the vanity, trying to escape his tongue that worked you through each wave—drowning you in the pleasure he knew only he could give you. You were his. His his his his h—

You sobbed his name, a raw answer to his internal mantra his mind struggled against and failed to overcome.

Din wanted you.

He wanted your body, your mind, your time—he wanted what Paz had.

Fuck.

The way the older man mooned and gazed with shameless adoration for the little baker he had fallen for in so short a time. Hell, Din teased him over it constantly. And maybe he didn’t want that—but he wanted something. Din wanted something with you. Wanted you to visit him in the gym and stop him mid set just to kiss him and tell him that you would wait for him to finish so you could go home together. He wanted to buy you flowers without having to think of a fucking excuse like last time to distance himself from the sentimentality. He wanted to open his front door and feel our presence as more than just a visitor. That a toothbrush and the stray pieces of clothing you forgot at his place would turn to shoes at the door and your taste in décor mixing with his.

Din wanted you.

But he had no idea how to do anything but fuck you. He didn’t know how to date or be romantic. Was clueless to things like companionship—to the softer emotions he knew you craved. That all people craved. Din had no idea how to do any of it.

You lay with your cheek on the wooden surface of the vanity, eyes half-closed and spacey as you watched him lift his head from your pussy, face shiny from your release and when he licked over his lips, still hungry for more—you mewled.

“Don’t tap out on me yet, sweetheart.”

You shook your head, a whimper and almost childish refusal while your cheek remained plastered to the vanity, all strength having left your body and an adorable pout trying to lie and tell him you couldn’t take any more.

“Mm, yes you can—” he answered you, dragging his mouth back up your slit and along your tight ass where he lapped at the rim again. Later. It took time for him to stretch you to take his size—it was better left for when he had you in his apartment and could take his time.

His hand followed his mouths direction as it continued up to meet your mouth—smirking against your lips at the whimpers you made from the slaps he gave your pussy—the obscene, wet sound filling the area with each slap slap slap until his hand was damn near slipping every time he struck your cunt from how wet it was.

A bang on the door—a harsh slap to your pussy so you would moan just right for him, and he growled out a threatening “occupied” to whoever was outside. You were too high strung to even notice.

“No one else can have you,” he rasped darkly into your temple, his free hand tangling in the strands to pull your head back against his shoulder—the position no doubt edging on uncomfortable with the way your spine and neck were arched back—moUlded into his hard frame. Your eyes fell to half mast even as your lips parted—still smeared with specks of blood you hadn’t yet licked or chewed off—and he bit your jaw in warning.

“No one else—” you parroted, your hot breath fanning over his cheek even as you rocked back against him, a steel confidence entering your fucked out gaze—mercurial in the swirling heat, “just like no one else can have you.”

The boldness of your words, the conviction spoken in that voice of wooden flutes and bubbling creeks made his blood light with fire—yes. As much as he anted you, he yearned for you to crave him in return.

“No one else,” he repeated your words back to you, rutting his hips against you when his cock pulsed with a negligent ache that demanded to be addressed. He kept one hand in your hair when he pushed his shorts down enough to free his leaking cock, the turgid length swollen and angry as he rubbed the tip between your lips.

Maybe he would buy you flowers tomorrow, after all.

Din gave you no time to prepare yourself – that’s my girl – sliding inside you with one brutal thrust that had you pushed up against the mirror and his cock engulfed in fiery bliss. He felt the heat run up his spine, a volcanic metamorphism into marble as his muscles froze in an immediate pause to stop himself from spilling inside you after one damn thrust.

You weren’t doing much better—one hand clawing for purchase on the mirror and the other digging your nails into his hip as you panted his name, an incoherent string of curses and praise as your sensitive walls convulsed around him. The position had him pressed right against that one spot he cock curved up against that could make you see stars and your care for being caught dissipate in cries of ecstasy.

“Baby—fuck please, so—too deep—” you whimpered in inane babbles, tightening in residual spasms from your orgasm and the sudden intrusion of his cock, still a stretch after all these months. Too deep… he snorted, rolling his hips hard to try shove himself deeper still. He could never get deep enough, always wanting more—always seeking to conquer the untouched lands of your body.

“Mm, want me to stop?” he teased, dragging his hips back with a smirk at your immediate rejection of no no no fuck—please, no—hand pathetically trying to drag him closer to you by the hip. Lovely little thing… thinking you were strong enough.

“That’s better…” he purred, relief washing over him when he pulled out—the walls of your cunt stretching around him, refusing his exit, and trying to keep him nestled inside you. The pace he chose was brutal. He fucked you like he fought tonight. Violently, mercilessly—and deaf to the calls to relent. But where he wanted his opponent to suffer, he wanted to devastate you with pleasure, enrapture you with ecstasy and leave you moaning his name where others would curse it.

Wet cock slapping as he pounded into you in short, frantic ruts – need you baby… fuck I need you – there was no time for you to catch a full breath before he was knocking it out of you again. His fingers had to tighten in your hair to keep you up – your body trembling under his as he sank his teeth into the taut muscle at your neck and his cock sank into your welcome body – exposed and waiting for him to litter in his signature.

He would never get enough of the way his marks looked on your skin—the way you decorated him in yours. You were powerless to do much else than accept them right now – likely getting him back later – boneless and weak under the attack of his mouth and the dominance of his body.

He would make sure everyone in this fucking shithole of a place knew who you were with. They would have to be blind not to notice the blotches of poppy bruises snaking down your neck with the elusion to more hidden from unworthy eyes. The smudge of your mascara as tears pearled like crystals in the corner of your eyes when you glanced at him in strung out bliss.

“M-more—” you begged, dropping one of your hands between your legs to rub at your clit—fingers splitting around the girth of his cock as he fucked you to feel the thick length disappear into you over and over, the soaked mess amassed from your frantic desire for each other trickling down your thighs.

“Yeah?” he grinned, breathless and sweating for much more pleasing reasons than he had been in the ring, a languid kiss to your neck as he hiked one of your knees up onto the vanity—spreading you wider for him to sink deeper.

You spasmed, your head falling back against his shoulder with a cry.

“Yes—there, there baby, fuck you feel so good…” you rambled, fingers working feverishly over your clit in wet strokes, grazing his balls every time they slapped against your skin and making him muffle his moan in your neck.

Rolling a nipple between his fingers, his large—bloodied hand completely swallowed your breast, squeezing it and tickling sounds that belonged to him from you and into his mouth when you kissed him. One last kiss before you collapsed back onto the vanity, and he stood to his full height so he could ruin you with his cock.

His name was the only thing you remembered as he split you open with full, hard thrusts—the entire length of his cock stretching your tight walls around it and playing along raw nerves already on the brink of another orgasm.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart—” he strained, desperate for release as he watched himself fuck you in the mirror—him behind your smaller body, squirming under the pleasure while his muscles bunched and relaxed with each snap of his hips—the veins in his forearms prominent and tendons taut as he poured all that training and dedication and determination into you, into pleasing you.

“Inside—inside, Din fuck, please—”

His mind emptied. Nothing else mattered about tonight—not the fight, not the disqualification, not the rage. Your eyes—cloudy with lust and achingly trusting as you looked back at him were all he could think about. Nodding without even realizing, the thought of filling you running in his mind on a loop.

“Fuck—!”

He wanted you to cum before him, he always did—but he was so high strung, so tense that he couldn’t stop himself, burying himself to the hilt with several punched out moans—exhaled rapture with every pump of his seed against your waiting womb. Your eyes rolled closed at the amount, bloating you with his release and as he came, you worked your clit frantically—chasing that addictive edge you gladly hurled yourself over at just the thought of him coming inside you.

Din dropped his forehead to your shoulder with a gasp, your spasming walls too much on his sensitive length but he had to stay inside—the contractions of pleasure, the gush of your release might push his out. He couldn’t have that. So, he gritted his teeth, mumbled husky praise – good girl, that’s it—just like that, soak me – to work you through your orgasm and pressed open mouth kisses to sweaty skin, the salt tickling his tongue as he caught his breath.

His mouth worked over the sweep of your shoulder, up your neck to your jaw when your orgasm subsided, purring your name and nonsensical strings of words he had no idea made sense or not. He finally eased his softening cock out of you slowly when you shifted your hips—testing your strength and finding it lacking when you realized both he and the vanity were what kept your legs up.

“Feel… feel better?”

“Mhm…” he confirmed noncommittally, nuzzling the marks beginning to bloom and darken like a forbidden garden only he was allowed indulge in the scent of. One of his hands ran absently down the back of your thigh, feeling for his release—pleased to feel nothing but your sticky arousal, his own still nestled inside your sore cunt.

“Want one of those crepes you’re always raving about from that twenty-four hour place?” he purred, helping you stand—going so far as to pull the straps of your dress back up so that zipping the metal teeth would be easier. Your eyes brightened despite the lazy, satiated fatigue hiding in their orbs.

“Gino’s?”

“Mm,” he nodded, looking down from his greater height and lips quirking in an annoying desire to smile when one – bright as daylight – broke out on yours.

You nodded quickly, looping your arms around his neck to drag him down to your mouth, kissing him good and proper while his hands fell under the still open sides of your dress to settle on bare hips,

“Are you ever going to tell me what set you off tonight?” you mumbled against his lips cautiously, the ghost of a smile from the promise of dessert still lingering but a hesitant worry entering your gaze, unsure if his mood would sour again.

It didn’t.

He nudged his nose along yours, aquiline curve slotting along yours as he hummed in thought, thumbs rubbing lazily into your hips,

“Maybe later,” he settled on and captured your lips again.

You left the changing room together, his gym bag slung over one shoulder and his free arm wrapped around your shoulder—nose never leaving your temple or nuzzling into your hair with blatant affection as you blushed at how obvious it was to anyone who saw you what you had been doing.

You had both tried to tidy yourselves—cleaning the corners of your makeup and trying to flatten your mused hair was about all you could do. Din didn’t even attempt to cover the freshly fucked look of messy hair and heavy eyes as he pulled an unzipped Mythosaur Gym hoodie on over his muscle shirt.

A group were passing in the corridor as you asked him something—his former opponent with one eye swollen shut from the bruises forming around his eye, jaw, and cheeks. Din answered you easily, an automatic response to whatever you were asking as his eyes met his opponents, cold fury and arrogant pride flashing in their depths.

You remained none the wiser as you passed the group, Din’s body protectively placed between you and them. He probably should have told you; he knew you wouldn’t be swayed by it—comfortable in your body as you were, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He could protect you from slander and toxicity at the very least—and he planned to. Even if he had to do so in the shadows for now.

For himself, the swelling and bruising on the idiots’ face weren’t the only thing he had to satisfy himself with. He was the one whose cum was still buried inside you, clinging to your thighs and keeping you slick and wet for him to add more to later when he got you back to his place. And as you glanced up at him with a disarming smile after he dropped his hoodie over your shoulders without a thought once you both were outside in the crisp air of the early morning darkness—he secretly hoped that he would be the only one to have that privilege from then on.

Taglist | Form

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A few who might be interested! @thepoisonofgod @absurdthirst @highsviolets @astroboots​ 

[hikari-kaitou]

Capcom's Official AA Fanclub Surveys - DGS Edition

Many Western fans may be familiar with the Turnabout 4koma comics that get posted on the official AA fanclub site that Capcom runs, thanks to some lovely fans on tumblr and elsewhere who have shared their translations. What fewer people seem to know about is the character surveys.

Back in the old days, they used to hold a survey on Capcom's official AA fansite every few months where they'd write about the seasonal activities of a handful of characters and ask fans to vote for the funniest/most pleasant/strangest/etc answer.

They stopped doing them in like... 2016? 2017? The original text is lost for good as far as I can tell. Even the wayback machine couldn't help because the content was password locked and you can't get past the password wall while remaining in the archived version.

Fortunately, I saved some of my translations of them so I thought I’d share them.

Cut for length...

"February has begun, and the DGS cast is nearing the end of their journey aboard the RFS Alacrei. Which of them acted the most strangely?"

Ryuunosuke ~ Exhausted from his intensive study session, he decided to try some katana swinging practice as a change of pace and to combat his recent lack of exercise. But because he wasn't used to handling the katana, he swung it too hard and it went flying out of his hands and got stuck in the wall right next to Sherlock, who had just entered the room. Sherlock asked him, "aren't you supposed to be studying right now, Mr. Naruhodo?" and handcuffed him to his desk.

Susato- worked on developing a curriculum for Ryuunosuke. 'If we keep going at this pace, he won't be able to learn it all in time... It'll be hard on Naruhodo-sama, but we'll have to work hard through a couple of nights together.' With that thought, she created a harsh study schedule, and almost seemed to be looking forward to it for some reason.

Sherlock- Driven by excitement over the thought of returning to England after a long absence, he went up on deck to stare at the ocean. Being February, it was very cold out there and he ended up being chilled all the way to the tips of his fingers. He returned to the ship cabins and amused himself by putting his frozen hands on Ryuunosuke, who was stuck in his room studying.

Van Zieks- Upon hearing from Vortex that there was a Japanese exchange student coming to England to study law, he smashed a Lord's Bottle. He apparently also didn't care for the fact that that Japanese student wouldn't be alone, because he proceeded to shatter his chalice, too.

Hosonaga- in order to provide a respite from studying, he provided some hot chocolate. They enjoyed a pleasant tea time, marveling over how sweet and delicious the drink was until Sherlock piped up with some unnecessary trivia: 'Actually folks, chocolate has long been used in Europe as an aphrodisiac!' Everyone promptly spat it out."

"The long winter is nearly over and spring is on it's way, putting the DGS cast members in a celebratory mood. Who found the best way of enjoying spring?"

Ryuunosuke: the Yuumei University faculty members were holding a flower viewing event, and he joined the assistance committee. He exhausted himself keeping the blankets clean so the intense shower of flower petals wouldn't pile up too high on them, delivering sake and snacks, and mediating whatever pointless fights arose. To top it all off, for some reason his compensation was only a single piece of leftover candy. Talk about a sad result!

Susato- her father and the others living in his dormitory were  holding the flower viewing event, so she got up early to prepare the bentos. But her father carelessly forgot to tell her that they wanted tea cakes, so she had to go around the house and neighborhood collecting sweets. For some reason, she ended up being able to gather caramels, biscuits, candy sticks, basically everything but tea cakes, for the tea ceremony.

Sherlock- he disguised himself as a beat officer and infiltrated Scotland Yard to have some fun. There was a real beat officer napping on his feet in the spring sunshine, and while observing him, Sherlock ended up falling asleep too. Detective Gregson gave them a good scolding when he found them, but then Sherlock revealed his true identity with a "hey, it's me, folks!" "What the blazes do you think you're doing?!" Gregson shouted, his rage growing even more, and Sherlock ended up making a run for it.

Van Zieks- went to the vineyard to oversee the production of the contents of his Lord's Bottle. As he viewed the still unopened grape blossom buds, he thought about how they would someday grow up to fill his Lord's Bottle, and ended up going around to look at each one. But the farm hands couldn't stop wondering whether the bottle itself or its owner's heel might come flying at them and were quite uneasy.

Asougi: exhausted himself running around since early morning helping with the professors' flower viewing event. When it was over, he took a break, sharing his reward candy stick [the name of the candy literally translates to 1,000 year candy] with Ryuunosuke, who had also been helping out. 

"I wonder if the candy's effect is halved if you share it with someone."

"That still gives us 500 years."

They laughed and enjoyed looking at the flowers until dark. Then they parted ways with a handshake and a "see you later, best friend."

(This one was something about celebrating New Years. For some reason I didn't save the original question)

"Ryuunosuke ~ To celebrate New Years, he planned to pound mochi with everyone at the office. He somehow managed to get his hands on some mochi rice and he and Sherlock started pounding. Iris was having such fun watching them that she steamed a whole bunch more mochi rice so they could have some to share, and he and Sherlock spent the whole evening pounding mochi like crazy.

Asougi~ Because it's New Years, he went around to a bunch of shrines. When he drew his new year's fortune, he got a "horrible luck" result. "I'm not worried about it," he claimed, and headed up to the mountains early on New Years morning and work hard on a full training course of purification by water, meditation under a waterfall and wooden sword practice. It seems that he was working really hard to clear his mind of all earthly thoughts

Sherlock- Agreed to help Ryuunosuke pound mochi. As Ryuunosuke was flipping the mochi over, he carelessly dropped his badge into the bowl and Sherlock mixed it in without noticing, so they had to crack open both the hard and soft mochi to look for it. Fortunately they found it in the 4th one they checked, but apparently Sherlock got his hands and face covered in sticky white mochi in the process.

Susato- Wore a furisode and went with her father to do the first shrine visit of the year. The shrine was incredibly crowded and they had to wait in line for a long time, but she brought the Encyclopaedia of British Law and a copy of the Strand Magazine in her sleeves to secretly read as they waited so she actually ended up enjoying the wait.

Van Zieks- Ryuunosuke cheerfully gave him some mochi as a New Year’s (which at that time was celebrated at the same time as the Chinese New Year) gift, which he accepted confusedly, wondering “...Can the Japanese not even keep track of when the New Year is?” Because Ryuunosuke referred to it as a rice cake, he tried to eat it like a regular cake without softening it with heat first. It was so hard that he couldn’t imagine how it could possibly be food, and ended up misunderstanding the Japanese even more!

"Autumn has arrived, and the weather is starting to cool off, which means that everyone is becoming more active. Which character chose the most pleasant autumn activity to keep busy with?"

Iris was making bread but her hands are small and it’s difficult for her to knead the dough, so she asked for Ryuunosuke’s help. She wanted to make enough to hand out to Gina and all the other homeless children in the East End, so she made a massive amount and Ryuunosuke was stuck kneading this massive mountain of bread dough all day. Apparently he became such a expert at kneading that he could be a baker now.

Asougi was practicing with his sword, slicing autumn-colored ginko leaves as they fell from the tree. He cut so many leaves, though, that he ended up making a big mess on the ground, the number of fallen leaves now having increased, and it took him a long time to clean it all up.    

Sherlock: Ryuunosuke told him that he was making anpan (bread filled with sweet red bean paste, the bane of my Asian-dwelling existance) and asked Sherlock to help by being in charge of getting the poppy seeds they’d need to sprinkle on top, so Sherlock went out and gathered a ton of poppy seeds. In fact, he got so many of them that no one knew what to do with them all cuz they had a huge amount of leftovers. Sherlock said, “Well, they’re only the size of poppy seeds! Surely you two can deal with them somehow! Ahahaha!” and Iris scolded him.   

(I couldn’t capture it in English, but Sherlock’s line contained a pun, and a pretty stupid one at that, so that’s part of why he got scolded)

It’s grape harvesting season, so Van Zieks commutes to the winery regularly to direct the production of the contents for his “Lord’s Bottle.” He demands perfection in everything from the selection of the grapes to the way they’re squeezed, and the winery staff is terrified by the “grim reaper’s” gaze and heel swinging (i.e. the leg thing he does in court) so they grumble as they work. 

"Hearing that there’s a holiday in the West called Halloween, the people involved with the court in Japan decided to try it out themselves. Naturally Halloween is a big deal in England as well. So, which member of the DGS cast had the best celebration?"

Team Ryuunosuke and Asougi- Asougi got Naruhodo up on his shoulders and they draped a white sheet over themselves to make a ghost costume. They went out like that, but Naruhodo had such exaggerated reactions to the fear of the people who saw them and to bumping his head on tree branches that they ended up losing their balance and falling on top of each other?!   

Sherlock Holmes- went wearing a horse’s head mask. Iris used her skills to make it a fancy horse covered in stars, but the eye holes weren’t well made and he had to wander around blindly. Because of that he tripped hard over a pile of coal! He ended up getting so dirty that the stars on his costume were covered up!

Van Zieks- took inspiration from his nickname and dressed up as the grim reaper. He covered himself up with a skeleton mask and hood figuring no one would know it was him. Unfortunately he got angry when he saw Megundal (McGilded) pass by and started throwing bottles and glasses and ended up giving himself away.

"November has arrived, and autumn is nearing its end. However, the DGS cast is still keeping busy, even on their days off. Which character chose the most interesting way to spend their late autumn day?"

Ryuunosuke- Thinking that he’d better learn more about British culture if he was going to be a defense attorney in Britain, he went down to the East End with Gina for a little observation. However, because an Asian like him stood out so much, he got mobbed by the other children. On top of it all, his arm band got stolen from him and he had to send a replacement request to Yumei University on the other side of the ocean.

Asougi- He went for a meal at La Quantas. The customer at a nearby table got a persimmon for dessert and scarfed it down, saying “Mm! This is it! This sweetness makes it worthy of being called a treasure among foods!” Asougi tried to comment on this by saying, “The customer at that table sure is enjoying his pershim--gak!” but he may or may not have accidentally bitten his tongue in the process and been unable to finish his sentence.

Iris- She accepted Ryuunosuke’s request to learn more about British culture and prepared a bagpipe and kilt costume for him. “This outfit sure is breezy,” Ryuunosuke said shyly upon trying it on. With Ryuunosuke now dressed, he, Iris, and the others from their office headed over to Gregson’s place to get him to treat them to some fish and chips.   

Sherlock- He accepted Ryuunosuke’s request to learn more about British culture and cooked up some European style curry for dinner. Thanks to the fact that his secret ingredient was a large amount of Chinese herbal medicine style spice, it caused some strange side effects and Ryuunosuke, who’d eaten it, ended up passing out and falling over.

“Another taxing trial for Ryuunosuke has finished and now it’s December. As the year draws to a close, which character acts the strangest?”

Ryuunosuke- he was recruited to help with snow removal around Yumei University and the courthouse and he enthusiastically began his task with the help of a large shovel. He got a little carried away, though, and ended up accidentally burying his umbrella, which he’d left propped up against the side of the building, in the snow he’d just finished shoveling.  He had no choice but to share Asougi’s umbrella on the way home.

Asougi- On the way home, he nods silently to Ryuunosuke’s question of whether he’d finished his travel preparations and changes the subject: “...Come to think of it, it seems that tomorrow is celebrated in the West as God’s birthday.” “I’ve heard that they eat chicken as part of the traditional celebration. Wanna try it?” Ryuunosuke asks invitingly. Asougi is strongly opposed to that particular menu item, however, and they end up going out for their usual beef stew that night instead.           

Susato- in addition to her year-end travel preparations, she also was busy with straightening up the book room in her home. She managed to get the law books in order when she suddenly stumbled upon some old issues of Strand Magazine! She hurried through the rest of her cleaning, then began flipping through the magazines she’d found, trying to decide which to take with her on her trip. She accidentally lost herself in her reading and didn’t realize it until it was already the middle of the night.

Sherlock- he was in the middle of a long ship voyage when Christmas night came. His mind on his partner in a far-off country, he made a toast alone on deck, when suddenly the crew began shooting off fireworks with a cry of “Merry Christmas!” Sherlock had to dart back and forth across the deck to prevent the fireworks from hitting him and setting off the explosive chemicals he carries with him.

Main series edition