#so on the one hand will I ever get Violet to complete my set?

[pain-in-the-butler]

My journey to pulling a Ciel acrylic charm from a Harajuku gacha machine was as long as it was humbling 💀

I had better luck on the wind-up toy keychain machine at Gashapon no Depato Ikebukuro (got The Boy on the second try) and also bought little surly schoolboy Ciel separately from a collectibles shop in Nakano Broadway (he was like $15 though)

and here's a close-up on the elusive pull

[silknspice]

GOOD FOR THE HEART

country! vi x reader fluff, angst, smut (18+), slow(?)burn, wc. 13.6k

synopsis: an intimate bond forms between an ill farmer's daughter, desperate for a taste of the outside world, and the helpful part-timing cowgirl at the farm. OR vi wants you bad, and what better way to get to know you than sneak you around town?

content warnings: illness, NOT read over, foul language, smut so mdni/18+, fingering r!receiving, controlling parent, health worries, fainting, slight insecurity, emotional rollercoaster but a fun one!!

soundtrack: my girl (the temptations) | our love (curtis harding + jazmine sullivan) | | we’ll never have sex (leith ross) | pillow (malcolm todd) | close to you (carpenters) | not a lot, just forever (adrianne lenker) | cool about it (boygenius) |  pancakes for dinner (lizzy mcalpine)(this sounds sm like vi to me) | kiss me (sixpence none the richer) | i bet on losing dogs (mitski)  aftercare (listen post-fic): force of nature (lizzy mcalpine)

Vi could strip naked right here, right now. 

And with her well known spontaneous personality, she would. Especially under the hundred degree heat that preys upon her and forces the girl’s freckled skin to glisten. But a: she’s with her siblings (enough said), and b: she’s working outdoors at the Laurier’s farm. Meaning only a handful of yards away, tucked in that blue, yellow, and white idyllic house covered with blooming botanical life, stands Mr. Laurier’s orphic daughter.

That’s all Violet’s ever heard about you, from children playing on the street to adults roaming the town shops. Ever since her adoptive father suggested she take this summer job before she goes back to focusing on her college work. Ever since her siblings and family friend jumped to tag along after Mr. Laurier decided ‘the more the merrier’. 

All that’s been filling Violet Lane's ears is information about you, or, the lack thereof. How you’re always locked up in that big residence. How you used to roam the town just like any other little rascal until five years ago, at the age of thirteen, when something out of her knowledge occurred. How stunning you look in a sundress. She tried to block that one out. 

“Why is it that Mylo’s drivin’ the tractor and not me?” Powder complains, pulling her clenched hand from the bag of chicken feed and tossing it on the ground for the horde to gobble. 

“Last time you tried to drive something I started praying.” Ekko throws out. His bun shaped hair bobbles as he finally pulls that one stubborn carrot from the ground and places it in the basket. 

“Besides Pow,” Violet starts, lifting a heavy brown box onto her shoulder and cradling it with just one arm. “You’re doin’ fine taking care of the animals. Mylo would be scaring them to death.” The pink haired girl sighed out, looking around.

Her gaze landed on the decorated porch, and she pursued. Vi set the last of the boxes down with a soft grunt before straightening her back and lifting her arms, clasped at the fingers, over her head to get a well-deserved stretch. 

The worker’s completely regretting her chosen position as the door swings open, and she looks heaven right in the eyes. 

You stand there in a white lace sundress covered in a juicy red pattern of cherries, a smile sweet enough to give a sugar high plastered on your stunning face. Vi’s gaze flickers down to your feet covered by red country boots. Above those are your soft looking hands holding a gift basket. When she’s done examining you, her blue-gray eyes trail their way back to yours– and it’s like whiplash. Once again, she’s blinded by those pearly whites and the tasty perfume radiating off of you. God help me, is the only phrase filling her mind because damn you’re ethereal. 

“Hi there, cowgirl.” You’re going to send Vi into cardiac arrest with just your voice. Thankfully, she realizes she needs to respond, and quickly wipes the dopey grin (that she wasn’t aware she had) off of her face. 

It’s not like everything is peaches and cream on your end. The girl’s tight white t-shirt is grasping onto her glistening biceps, her pretty bright eyes and the freckles that decorate her nose make her look blessed by the sun, and seeing such a beautiful yet handsome woman in a cowboy hat is doing foreign things to your stomach. ‘Wow’, is all your wandering mind formulates.

“Hi there, miss Laurier,” she copies you in her lower voice, and you notice the slit on her lip as it curls up into a soft smirk. You shake your head at her words with a polite smile, insisting she call you by your name, which you offer up. She repeats it once perfectly, claiming it ‘rolls right off the tongue’, and you crack a smile. 

“My father informed me that you’re the new help around here for the summer, so I decided to bake somethin’ for the five of you.” You’re sticking out the basket, decorated with a pink bow on top, for Vi to take. She does and quickly takes a peek inside. Five snickerdoodle cookies and one large cherry pie. You do stay on theme, and so, it starts.

“Thank you, cherry.” she cracks a smile that sends a shock down your body, and gently tips her hat.

Fourteen searing days pass on that farm, days filled with laughter, hard work, and the smell of life from the surrounding plants. 

But not for you. 

For each of those fourteen days, for the past one thousand eight hundred and twenty-five days, you’ve sat sideways in your window with your back against one side and your legs propped up on the wood. You read, journaled, book pressed flowers (that you had to sneak out front to get), took much needed resting breaks, tended to your pet lamb Daisy, and watched Footloose. Your sock-covered feet subtly shuffled side to side as if you were mimicking their dance moves in your head. 

Vi watched as you sat there all those days in your open window. Half of your body out in the fresh air and half cooped back up inside like the past five years of your life. It was as if you yearned to experience life completely outside the window, but you couldn’t. And so, you completed your daily activities the furthest away you could get. 

Until your eighteenth birthday came along. 

“Lord, can you focus instead of stalking your ‘cherry’,” Ekko mimics the pinkett’s voice with the last two words, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. 

“Bet she wants to pop her cherry.” Mylo snickers at his own joke, earning a slap to the nape from Claggor.

“Last warning Mylo. Don’t talk about her like that.” she replies firmly, furrowed brows making a little scowl. 

Claggor shakes his head softly, letting the tension between his siblings diffuse before speaking. “You know, you should do something other than just stare at her all day. It’s getting sad.” 

“Like?” the cowgirl responds with crossed arms.

“Ask her to hang out, obviously.” Powder pipes up, petting a sheep as she prepares to guide it inside the barn. “She’s always lookin’ so lonely. Swear the only time she smiled this past week was when you complimented her on those blackberry muffins she baked us.” 

“You know she’s not supposed to come out, Laurier said so. Pretty sure that’s why she stays upstairs, can’t even come out on the porch when we’re here no more.” Violet huffs.

“You think he thinks we’re a bad influence on her?” Ekko ask in confusion. Because truth be told, no one knew why you stayed locked up in that bright house, like a princess trapped in a tower. People knew better than to ask your father, and of course, they couldn’t get to you. Maybe it was time for someone to be your knight in shining armor.

“Doesn’t matter, he’s not even here right now.” Mylo insists. 

So, after a long back and forth conversation of weighing the possibilities, Violet’s shoved over to the shrubs in front of your second story window. You notice her when she’s there (you’ve been sneaking glances at her every so often), shifting your position so that you can look down on her as she calls out your name.

“Afternoon, cowgirl,” you coo, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. 

“Hey there, angel,” she simply replies with that signature smile, and your hands clench the frame you’re leaning on a bit tighter. “We’re done with the chores for today.”

“Oh. Well, get home safely.” you hum, eyes dropping in what Vi hopes is discontent, because her next words will cheer you right up. 

“Actually, we’re not headed home just yet. The five of us are headed out into the woods over there for a little.. chat." The glowing sunlight illuminates her face as she nods her head to Mylo, who’s allowing the brown paper bag to peek out of his backpack and into your vision. Alcohol. “Would you wanna come with us? Won’t take up too much of your time, I promise.” she asks with a cool voice but a pounding, fearful heart. 

No.

Or at least, that’s what you were supposed to say. It’s what you’d normally say. As much as your ill heart ached to connect with others, as much as you wanted to venture out of your home, as much as this strawberry-haired helper made you want to explore new things you’d only ever seen in movies, your answer always had to be no. 

But, unbeknownst to the others, today was your birthday. You had cautiously lived another year, and instead of feeling fulfilled, you only wonder how many you have left. 

You wanted to live, not survive.

You stared in contemplation before backing up, shutting the window and rushing out of the girl’s sight. 

Vi dropped her head down to the shrubs in front of her. It’s over. She blew it. 

“You scared her!” Ekko teased, making the girl whip her head around to show an angry stare. But the displeased expression faded faster than it formed when the creaking of that back door met her ears, and Powder gasped in joy and disbelief. 

“Lead the way.”

The walk along the trail of the woods to a more secluded area with cut wood stumps as seats was anything but quiet. Powder was talking your ear off about everything mechanic she worked on, treating you like you were from the middle ages rather than just sheltered. Claggor and Mylo were leading, causing the group numerous wrong turns and unplanned ‘shortcuts’ (they’d gotten lost along the way). Vi walked with Ekko on her left, quietly pumping her up and giving her the confidence she’d need to ‘make her move’. 

But despite the various noises, she couldn’t hear anything. Because strolling to her right was you, the girl she’s been infatuated with since first glance. She’s trying to be discreet, examining the way your hair falls, your scent, the way you press your lips together in thought before answering a question. It took the platinum blonde boy next to her elbowing her side before she came back to the real world. 

“I call first sip,” Powder squeaks, to which Violet scoffs, making a quip about how she’s only sixteen and scolding anyone who attempts to offer her the bottle. The bluenette brings up the fact that the others aren’t even the legal drinking age either, but it’s shut down because ‘an adult is an adult’.

“We’ll bring a juice box for you next time.” Mylo smirks, taking a long drag from the bag before offering it out to you. 

Despite the soft urge, you shake your head, because you know your limits. Your heart’s limits. Despite the fact that you’re ignoring the sweatiness of your palms and feeble limbs. 

Mylo hums. “Two juice boxes, then.” 

“Mylo–” Vi scolds, finally coming out of her trance. 

But her anger is cut short at the sound of a hearty chuckle coming from your mouth. And it’s the first time Vi’s ever heard you laugh. Genuinely laugh. It’s enough to bring stars to her already-bright eyes.

The conversation continues as the sun and clouds pass by. Eventually, the others are in a heated debate about the best character in some film you’ve never heard of, leaving you and Violet to shyly shift your attention towards each other.

“I’m glad you came. I noticed you.. don’t get out much?” Her tone is the gentlest it’s ever been. 

“I’m glad you invited me.” You easily avert her indirect question. It eats you alive, the want to tell her everything about you. How you have a “bad heart” as your father gently put it, and now you live your days mundanely so as to not risk triggering anything fatal. But the desire to live just one day in normalcy is stronger, and so you change topics. 

“You have very big muscles. I like them. Is that why you do most of the lifting things rather than herding cattle and such, like other cowgirls?” 

Vi feels her cheeks get toasty at the compliment and your almost-awkward forwardness. But you can’t help it, you’ve hardly had conversations with anyone but your father the past few years, let alone a handsome girl so close in age. It doesn’t matter much though, because Vi loves it.

“Not a real cowgirl. I’m only good for lifting what others can’t.” She chuckles a bit. “I just happen to own a horse— and I wear the hat of course… maybe the belt’s a little cowgirl-like too, but that’s all.” 

You smirk because that makes her a cowgirl in your book, but you politely hum and say nothing. 

The girl shifts her position to turn towards you more, and you swear your heart stops when one of her manspread knees leans against your crossed ones and makes no attempt to move. She examines your behavior, and when she sees the ghost of a smile on your lips, she leans on her opened legs slightly to get more comfortable.

“So what do y’ do in that big house all day, angel? Must get lonely.” 

These nicknames are doing terribly good things to you. 

You hum. She’s completely correct, but the last thing you want is for her to pity you. “Bake a lot, shop in the catalogs, watch movies, write in my books.” You shrug. “Oh,  and I take care of my Daisy girl.” A smile graces your perfect lips. 

“That your dog? Never seen her around,” she asked with questioning brows.

“No,” you giggle, sending Vi into heaven. So beautiful. “It’s my lamb.”

A beat passes before she responds, a glint in her eye. “So I should be calling you Bo Peep?” she jokes. 

You laugh, knocking your knees against hers in playful scolding. Simple words, simple touches, a simple gathering that may be day to day life for anyone else in the town. But for you, this was the best thing to happen in years. 

“Daisy’s a sweet name, matches her sweetheart of an owner.” she compliments you, and you graze your hand over your heart because you can’t decipher why it’s speeding up. “We sound real rugged compared to you. Our dog’s name is Rusty. Powder ch–” 

“Hey!” 

A deep, raspy voice calls out from behind you. A few of you whip your heads around to see the source of the noise, whereas others stand out of shock as the man comes into your sight. “What are y’all doing on my property? Get over here!” He’s moving quickly towards the group, and Ekko’s the first to move his feet.

“Time to go,” Vi says hastily, standing. Without thinking, she takes your hands and pulls you to a stand. “You a good runner?” 

No. I don’t know. I haven’t had anywhere to run in years.

That’s what you should’ve said, but as stated earlier, a life of normalcy for today. And so, you lie.

“Sure– yes, yes.” 

Vi nods at that, tightening her grasp on one of your hands as she rushes to exit along with the others. Your hands stay intertwined as the pair of you dash through the greenery, avoiding unfriendly hanging branches, jumping over logs, and ducking under leaves. 

You’re terrified. The same glistening sweat that forms in your clammy hands makes another appearance on your forehead. A prickle crawls its way up your throat, and suddenly you’re hacking into your elbow as the cowgirl guides you close to her body while you near the edge of the woods. Your little red problem pounds against your chest as if it’s begging you to stop, to give up before it does, but you can’t.

The man moves quickly, but he’s no match for adolescents of the countryside. By the time you reach the fields of your farm, he’s nowhere to be found. 

Powder’s hollering and cheers of victory sound broken, doubling and distilled, coupled with a soft ringing sound and pressure around your head that only grows the longer you stand. The only thing you can hear clearly is your quick panting. That deep red blood is draining from your head and blazing heat is left in its place. 

A blurry and distant Violet comes into your impaired vision, and you feel the soft sensation of her cupping your face with worried hands. “Cherry?” 

Your mind’s swirling with thousands of sensations, and your terrified breaths grow increasingly shallow until you can’t fight to stay awake any longer, falling into the arms of Vi. There’s yelling, someone scooping you up into their protective arms, orders being thrown around as you’re rushed towards the house, then silence. Complete and utter silence. 

The female lead is on your screen twirling and rolling her hips with glee for the third time this week, and you wonder if you'll get a chance to dance like that.

It’d been three days since you fainted after running from the farmer down the trail, three days since you’ve seen Violet (or any of the farm helpers), and three days since you’ve felt that inexplicable warmth in the pit of your stomach. 

While you rendered unconscious, Vi and the others scrambled to get your limp body inside. They laid you out on your bed, arguing about whether or not to call for help, because they had no clue what was wrong with you.

Of course, you woke up a couple minutes later as you always do. You were confused and terrified, but strictly instructed to rest by the friends who promised they’d stay until your father arrived. Fatigued even more than normal, you complied.

When your father arrived home an hour later, he stumbled upon Powder placing an ice pack on your sleeping head, Claggor and Mylo pacing the room in worry, Ekko attempting to research what exactly would have caused your current state, and Violet looking sick to her stomach as she cradled your soft hands in her rough ones; praying to whoever’s up there that you’d be fine. 

Needless to say, once they’d confessed to leaving for the woods and running back (leaving out every bit alcohol related), he’d been beyond furious, placing you on total lockdown for recovery and demanding the helpers avoid the farm for a couple of days. After you’d gotten your medication in you and recovered after a full day of rest, he chewed you out too. ‘You know I’m just trying to keep you safe.’

But you didn’t want safe anymore, you wanted life. 

And Violet walked right through your front door. Literally.

The pinkette runs a hand through her fluffy hair before securing the cowboy hat back on her head. Her eyes are searching the house for the kitchen when they land on you, and a wave of relief washes over her.

“Hi, angel.” 

Your heart speeds up, and this time, you don’t need to question it. 

“Hi Violet,” you coo shyly, standing from your comfy position on the couch and making your way over to her, hands clasped behind your back. 

She wastes no time cradling your face in her calloused fingers, the pair of your soft breaths filling the silence as the girl looks over you, finishing her personal assessment before swiping a thumb across your cheek in gentle comfort. 

“I was so worried about you,” the whisper fell from her lips without shame. 

“I’m fine, really.” you speak in the same tone, leaning into her sweet hand.

“No, you’re not.” That catches you off guard. “When your father saw what happened he panicked, said something about your heart and thought you were…” she let your mind fill the blank with a glint of pain in her blue-gray eyes. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?” 

Your eyes drop to the floor, and before you have time to think about it, you speak. “I’m sick. The bad kind of sick that doesn’t just go away after a couple days.” you can’t look her in the eyes as you speak, just placing a finger to your chest. “I have a ‘bad heart’, as my father puts it. Don’t have a lot of energy, can’t do much without getting too overwhelmed, dizzy spells and such..” 

You expect to see a crack in Vi’s sweet eyes, a sign of distaste, of regret for caring about a broken girl, but her gaze only softens and a tender hand moves a piece of hair from your face. 

“That why you’re cooped up in here?” she asks, even though she knows the answer. You nod. 

It’s silent for some time, and the two of you enjoy the other’s presence in such a milestone moment. 

“I have somethin’ for the five of you,” you finally speak, pulling from her affectionate grasp. She nods, wiping the worry she feels in the pit of her stomach away so that she can be there for you. You stroll into the kitchen with the cowgirl behind you, opening and rummaging around the fridge as she takes a needed seat at the marble island. 

She looks over your attire. A big bright red sweater hangs off your shoulders that covers your shorts, and a white bow in your hair that brings a smile back to her face.

You turn back around, setting down a tiffany blue cupcake platter and perfectly made white-frosted cupcakes with a purple design in the middle. You then pull out some tupperware, transferring cupcakes into it as Vi speaks. 

“They’re Violets,” she says in surprise and you giggle, only nodding your head. 

Marry me she thinks, before coming up with something more plausible to say. “Is this what you’re studying in college? You're gonna be a chef or somethin’ angel?” 

You pause before barely shaking your head. “Not goin’ to college this year.. my father says I need a gap year before ‘making any big decisions’,” you scoff, because the truth is he just can’t let you go. “Worries me though. He won’t go out and buy me any textbooks or anything, I’m gonna go stupid.” you whine.

Vi presses her lips together, clearly sharing your discontent with the situation. 

“Well, I know you’ll do great when you go. There’s already a strong brain in that pretty head of yours,” she grins. 

A smile forms against your will as you look up at the girl. 

“You think I’m pretty, Violet?’ 

She responds quickly, like the words spilled out of her heart rather than being formulated in her head. “I think you’re gorgeous. Whoever’s up there took their time making you.” 

Comfortable silence ensues as the room’s filled with pounding hearts and warm faces of passion. Finally, you finish packing up Vi’s cupcakes and place the box in front of her. She thanks you, looking to the side in thought before an idea flickers across her face. 

The girl rises, lifting the hat from her head and leaning over the marble to place it atop your surprised head. She doesn’t wait for your reaction as she picks up the cupcake box and a wooden crate from the ground (what she should’ve been doing in the first place). “Keep that safe for me until tomorrow, cherry.” 

“But isn’t tomorrow your day off?” you ask, flicking the front of the hat so it’s above your eyes.

“Yeah. I’m coming to see you tomorrow.”

The sun couldn’t set and rise fast enough. 

You waited in so much anticipation that you woke up an hour earlier, practically shoved your father out of the house with his breakfast, and spent any extra time at a mirror fixing an out of place hair or switching your outfit for the fifth time. 

You don’t know why you do– why you care so much. But before you can think too hard on it, the sound of someone pulling into your driveway blesses your ears and there’s six soft knocks at the front door. 

And so it starts with you and Vi seated on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. Your backs lean against the lower portion of the soft matter, and Vi pulls out a book. Four books, to be exact. One for each core subject.

You furrowed your brows in confusion, looking from the pile of literature to the fluffy haired girl. 

“I was thinkin’ I'd bring some textbooks to you since you can’t get ‘em yourself. I’m in my second year now so I won’t be needin’ these ones anymore.” She somehow speaks with both suave confidence and warm-faced fear in unison. “We could make it a thing, y’know. Preparing for classes together.” 

“Yes!” You speak with starstruck orbs. 

Violet laughed with relief, because if she had to be completely honest, that wasn’t the only reason she was here. She didn’t need this time to prepare, maybe a quick refresh before the year started, but she definitely didn’t need to be studying during summer. But if it gave her a chance to connect with you, she’d study until her brain burst. 

The helpers’ off days were Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. So that’s when Violet would pack her books, hop in her truck, and haul ass to your farm. Each session was the same. You’d start out in comfortable silence reading your separate texts and answering questions or jotting notes down, then Violet would make a stupid joke about a picture in the book or get sidetracked by your bookshelf of dvds in front of her, and minutes later the room would be filled with fits of laughter, fuzzy brains, and your books completely discarded. 

“‘Dirty dancing’? Damn cherry, your father know you watch this stuff?” Vi grins, sliding the movie case back into its spot along the brown wooden shelf. 

“It’s not that kinda movie, Violet. It’s like.. set in the sixties.” you huff, holding back a smile at her playful words. The pinkette takes her seat next to you on the couch, manspread legs and a cunning smirk just inches away from your face.

“And what exactly is ‘one of those movies’, doll?” she teases.

You scoff.

“I’m sheltered, not stupid.” you play, a soft hand coming up to push against the girl’s arm. 

Something flickers across the pinkette’s face before suddenly, she’s on top of you. 

You’re pushed onto your back against the plush couch as pure muscle weighs above you, powerful hands swirl at your waist before your laughter fills her ears and your hand shoots out to grab at one of her arms. The pair of you struggle for power, pushing back and forth, twisting bodies, and yelling out competitive quips. 

Finally, you smush the palm of your hand against Violet’s face, momentarily stunning her before the stronger girl grabs both of your wrists and pins them right above your head. 

Soft panting and awestruck eyes decorate the both of you. The air is tighter, every inch of your body is suddenly aware of your positions, and no words are exchanged as you savor the feeling of her touch. God you feel weak, but you don’t know whether to place the reasoning on Violet or your heart. 

Violet’s about to lose it, because with the way your sweet eyes are trailing up her body to her face, her heart is clear. 

She wants– no, craves you. Bad. 

It’s quiet for a moment longer before Vi clears her throat, reluctantly letting go of your wrists while moving back to stand. 

“We deserve a study break.” the cowgirl hums, crouching and examining the lower levels of the bookshelf. 

“We haven’t even been studying,” you throw back and fix your skirt while sitting up. Vi finds the record she’s been searching for, pulls it from its sleeve, and adjusts the player.

“Okay smart ass, we deserve a break.” she grins and the stylus hits the circular item. 

A soft, sensual song makes its way through the air. It’s older, a woman singing softly about her lover’s perfection, and you warm at the thought of a special someone fantasizing about you to the tune. 

Vi stands in the middle of the spacious room, and when you don’t move she waves her arm. “C’mere.”

You stand (a little quicker than you should’ve), and make your way over. She wastes no time, gently moving one of your hands to her shoulder and intertwining fingers with your other. As for your free hand, she tenderly places it on your waist, looking for any discomfort in your face. All she’s met with is big eyes of wonder and god, she’s screwed. 

“Just follow my lead.” she’s speaking sensually under the music, thumb rubbing at your waist. 

“Oh please, I could dance circles around you.” you quip.

“I’m sure you could, doll. But it’s a slow dance, so we work together.” Your bodies move closer as she speaks, making you smile and lose the sassy attitude for a moment. Just a moment.

Angelic vocals encase the two of you. There are only sounds of that and gentle side steps before you speak once more. 

“Did you know it was my birthday?” You stare straight into her eyes.

“Wait, what?” 

“The day we went to the woods. Is that why you asked me to come? Because it was my birthday?” you tilt your head.

She blinks twice before huffing a laugh. “No, I didn’t know. This mean I made you faint and get in trouble with your pops as a present?” 

You smile to yourself at the coincidence, holding her hand a bit tighter. 

“Have you danced with someone like this before?” she asks.

You shake your head before pausing. “Well, once with my mother, but I was very little.” 

Vi’s eyes soften a bit more. “Is she..?” 

You nod. “It happened when I was eleven. She had the same problem as me, that’s why he’s so protective.” Your voice is soft as you refer to your father. “I understand him, I really do, but I’m just so tired of being separate from the world.”

The girl can only nod, the hand around your waist snakes around to your back and pulls closer until your bodies are almost plush against each other. 

“Thank you for trusting me with that,” she whispers. And suddenly, there’s soft giggles. You’re laughing because the tough, suave cowgirl you know can be such a sap. 

Your laughter dies down and you shake your head before placing it between the crook of Vi’s neck, softening into your sappy cowgirl. “Talk to me about something good,” you hum.

“I’m takin’ you out on a date Friday.” 

Your eyes widen and you pull your head back to look her in the eyes.

She stammers and mentally groans because you’re the only one who could ever make Violet Lane stammer. “Well– if you say yes.” 

No.

That’s what you’re supposed to say, and what you should say. Not because of your father’s influence, not for your safety, but because you’re afraid. Afraid of the trouble you could get Vi into, of dealing with the unknown, but most importantly you were afraid of hurting her. 

While you aren’t bedridden, your life is fragile, and the thought of being a burden to Vi was heavy and present. How long could she stand you until she got tired of your neediness? How long until she’s tired of hearing about all the things you can’t do? She’s spontaneous, reckless, fun, and you thought she deserves to end up with someone just like that. Someone you’re not. 

But right now, you want her, and she needs you, so you give her what you can. 

“Of course,” you agree with a genuine, toothy smile, and the pinkette sighs of relief. 

The song finally comes to a stop. 

For the first time, you’re glad your father works all day long, because there’s no way you could sneak someone as loud as Powder around your house. 

Her squeals of embarrassment and your laughter echo from the kitchen throughout every room of your home. Your canvases and paints are neglected as you point an accusatory finger at a message on her screen. A message from ‘Ekko <3’. 

“I knew it! The way you talk to each other– ‘Oh Ekko! You’re just so smart,’” you mock her, making the girl’s face change colors faster than you’ve ever seen. 

“I do not say things like that!” She yells back, making you giggle harder. “And we aren’t dating.” 

“Why not?” you whine. You clasp your hands as if a plea is about to fall from your lips when a ding rings throughout the room. You look down and gasp. A message from ‘Lux <3’. 

You pause, eyes flickering to the girl. “Do you have everyone saved with a heart?”

She shakes her head. 

“Just those two?”

She nods. 

“Oh, this is just like the movies!” Your laughter repeats like a loop. The girl groans at you and moves her phone to the other end of the marble countertop. “I’m kidding– awhh, Powder!”

She shakes her head. “This conversation is all the way over.”

It takes a moment for your giggles to die down, and soon you’re nudging the bluenette’s shoulder with yours gently. “You’ll make the right decision, just don’t waste time overthinking it. Follow your heart.” 

She raises her eyebrows, picking up her paintbrush. “I could give you the same advice.” 

You scoff out a laugh, gaze landing on your taunting medications in the corner of a counter. “My heart is fighting itself. Wants two different things at once. Certainly can’t have both.” 

“Then follow your mental heart, not your physical one.” 

You pause, brows furrowing as you look at her with suspicious eyes. “Did Violet..” 

Powder shakes her head before you can finish. “No. She can keep a secret, especially for you. I connected the dots on my own,” she shrugs, swiping an electric blue line across the clean canvas. “Y’know, the meds, how protective your father is. Once, on one of your bad days, I looked through a window and saw you sitting down a third of the way up the stairs looking all dizzy and breathless. You fainting just tied it all together,” she hums. 

You burn holes into the ground with your utterly ashamed gaze.

“I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, but you should live the life you want rather than being trapped in one you yearn to escape. And you can count on that big baby to protect you.” You let out a little laugh, nodding at the younger girl’s sweet words. 

“Oh yeah, she wanted me to give you this. Dummy forgot it yesterday.” 

Powder sets the brush down and rummages around her tote bag that lays on the counter, pulling out a tiny black velvet box and handing it to you before turning back to her self-proclaimed masterpiece. 

Your heart swells in the best way possible, and you flick open the little clasp to reveal a thick golden ring with two red dots and a green leaf in the middle. It’s accompanied by a small white note with bright red writing.

‘Happy birthday, cherry.’

“I knew they were together!”

You stare out of the windows of Vi’s truck into the town square. Your gaze is fixed on Miss Medarda and Mister Talis, who are sitting suspiciously close to each other on a bench near one of the decorative fountains. 

Vi fixes her dark brown hat as a laugh escapes her. “No way, he’s always chatting up this guy– one of the professors at U.P.” Vi refers to her college, and it takes you a second to understand. 

“His hand was on her thigh, Violet. That was pure romance.” 

Vi pauses, seemingly focused on the road ahead, but the lightbulb look behind her eyes that appears makes you think otherwise. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll see who’s right.” she jokes after remembering she hadn’t responded. 

Vibrant sunlight hits almost every inch of the truck and illuminates the town that passes by as the pinkette turns down a road surrounded by greenery. You spin the gifted ring on your finger once, then twice, out of nervousness. It’d been years since you left your house for anything but the doctor’s, let alone a date. A thousand and one possibilities whirled through your mind, but were quickly flushed out at the sound of Vi’s voice. 

“I see you got your gift,” she smiles, eyes flicking away from the road down to your ring and back. “I like how it looks on you.” 

She was skilled at putting up a flirtatious and unbothered front, because on the inside you had her absolutely melting. Out of all ten options, you chose to secure her gift on your left ring finger. 

You’ll be the death of her, no doubt. 

“It’s perfect,” you look over to her with hearts in your eyes. “Thanks, cowgirl.” 

She nods, eyes flickering back down before she takes her right hand off of the wheel and down to thumb the end of your shorts. “I like these too, real damn pretty.” 

You giggle, and somehow the swarm of butterflies in your gut doubles in size, because instead of returning to the wheel, the girl’s hand is delicately placed onto your inner thigh. Her calloused hands gently cup your skin, and she’s grateful you can’t read minds because she’s terrified of your potential reaction.

You can’t fight the smile that crawls its way onto your warm face. The only thought that runs through your mind is how this is even better than the movies.

“Well I hope I’m dressed well enough for whatever we’re doing today. Wish you woulda told me.” You finally reply, softening under her touch. You swear you hear her let out a little sigh of relief. 

“That’d ruin the surprise. I’ve gotta wow you.” she sends you a wink and your laughter fills the car with joy. 

It doesn’t take long until you’re pulling into the driveway of Violet’s house. It’s beautiful, all brown and white with flowers out front that Powder planted herself, high school graduation yard signs, and fresh open space. Still, a panicked look sets on your face. 

“Wait, wait, Vander’s gonna see me– he’ll tell my dad,” you stammer.

Vi cuts the engine, gently taking a hold of your chin to redirect your gaze as she speaks reassuringly. “Hey, hey. He’s not here you worrywart, won’t be home until late tonight.” Your eyes soften and you sigh. “Besides,” she starts, “we’re going over there.” 

Just past the house is a matching white and brown barn-esque building. Stables.

“She’s so big!” you yell with awestruck eyes as Vi pulls the red roan out of the stables by the lead. “What’s her name? When’d you get her? Wow I’ve never seen one of these up close, mama was afraid of ‘em and my father doesn’t ride.” You speak at rapid fire making Violet snicker. 

“Slow down,” she instructs, standing between you and the hairy beauty. The girl takes your hand, placing it on the horse’s shoulder, giving you the okay to pet. “Her name’s Gunner, she was my fifteenth birthday present, and I can’t imagine your pops getting anywhere near a horse.” You playfully hit her with your unoccupied hand. 

“Gunner,” you whisper, “badass.” 

Vi chuckles, because swearing sounds so foreign to you.

“You ready?” She asks, slipping her black riding helmet on your head.

“Wait, what?”

“You think I brought you here just to stare at her?” she smirks, completely mesmerized by your face while tightening the straps of the protective gear. “We’ll go slow this time, I promise. Okay?” 

The promise of this happening again makes your heart flutter, and all of the gears in your brain stop spinning before you respond, “Okay.”

She helps you onto Gunner, patting the small of your back before hopping up right behind you. Her warm arms snake around your waist and grab hold of the reins in her hands. Her muscular front is smushed against your back, her head placed inches to the right of yours. 

“Now, gently squeeze his middle with your calves,” she instructs.

You obey, and the red roan begins its walk. It’s slow, peaceful, but such a new experience to you that a sweet gasp of surprise falls from your lips. 

The two of you sit in silence, appreciating the comfort of each others’ presence and warm golden light shining upon you as the beauty of nature captures you. In the green pasture of Vi’s fields, you feel like you’re breathing for the first time in five long years. 

Gunner simply walks for a few minutes as you point out pretty flowers that you pass and Violet mentally compiles a bouquet for you. Vi’s talking about her years as a kid in this field. When she’d lost (and found) her favorite toy bunny out here, or dared Mylo to walk through the vast field at the dead of night. Suddenly you’re begging to see some baby photos. 

It’s at this moment that everything’s easy. Vi’s admiring everything about you with eyes of love when–

Gunner’s neigh sounds like a shriek of terror when three birds zip past, spooking the roan into a 180 and bolt away before Vi can make it out of her trance. 

You yelp from the sudden change in speed, almost slipping off of the animal, but Vi’s there to keep you securely fastened against her as she takes control of it. Just as fast as it changed, Gunner’s speed slows to a stop. You can feel just how tense Vi is as she speaks. 

“Shit. I’m so sorry, doll. She gets spooked so easily and– god, I’m sorry for scarin’ you.”

It’s silent for a moment. The scariest moment of the pink haired girl’s life, because she can’t see your twinkling grin that spreads from ear to ear before you laugh. 

“That was so cool!” you beam, leaning forward to pat at the horse. “Not so badass though, huh?”

After a few more apologies and you repeatedly telling Vi that it was fine, you two decided it was best to turn in for the day. 

You sigh, sitting against the short wooden fence. “I wanna rest for a minute, that okay?” ‘I need to take a rest, I don’t have any energy’ is what you actually mean, but you choose not to worry her. 

She wastes no time plopping down onto the grass next to you, eyes raising to the baby blue sky. She gives you a few moments of silence, sneaking glances at your face every so often, before speaking. 

“Powder and Claggor were talking about how awesome it’d be if we took you to a Seraphine concert. Think you’d like her music a lot.” she hums, smiling to herself. 

“And one day, I'm gonna take you line dancing so we can settle our little debate once and for all.” Her grinning face is inches away from you and her overpowering scent of amber and musk ensues. 

“Oh really?” Your voice is soft as your head turns, looking Violet up and down with half-lidded eyes. “I think..” 

You quickly mount Vi’s lap, pushing the girl onto her back and pinning those muscular arms right beside her head with both of your hands. You’re both all giggles and grunts, and even though there’s no way you’d stand a chance against her in a real tussle, she lets you win. 

You lay there, one atop the other in a field of colors. The tension is so thick that not even a knife could cut it, and your grip softens when tender hands reach up to cup your face, a thumb stroking your cheek. The sun, her hands, her sparkling blue eyes, and the love radiating between the two of you has you all but melting. You’re leaning down, inching closer each second, and just before Vi’s dreams come true, you stop. 

You pull back with newly glossy eyes, dismounting the girl while whispering apologies that get lodged in your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

You want nothing more than to connect your lips and hearts, but you were so afraid. How long until she resents you? How long until it’s over? You’d grown accustomed to heartaches, but never heartbreak.

But Violet craves you more than plants crave water, she needs you more than the Earth needs the sun. You just don’t know it. 

“Hey,” she whispers, sitting up and holding your chin as if routine. “Look at me, angel.” 

You comply with built up tears that threaten to stain your cheeks. 

“You don’t have to apologize for something like that,” she consoles, never looking away from your softened eyes. “We can go as slow or as fast as you want, okay?” 

You wipe your tears with the side of your hand, choking out your words. “I just– I don’t want to disappoint you.” I don’t want you to hate me once I’m gone. 

“Disappoint me?” She stiffles out a laugh. “You don’t know how bad I want you. But I’ll wait until the end of time if you ask me to, hell, I’d lasso the moon and bring it down if you wanted.”

That makes you sniffle and let out a breathy laugh, bringing Violet some relief. The girl slowly inches forward to make sure you’re completely okay with it before placing a warmhearted kiss to your forehead. It’s quick and simple, but causes an eruption of butterflies in your gut. Soon, your troubles are forgotten. 

“Let’s get you home, yeah?” 

“What’d I say about keeping this door open?” Vi raises a brow, leaning against the doorframe as she stares at an unbothered Powder who’s doing her mascara, and a flustered Ekko. 

“Must’ve been the wind.” Powder mutters.

“She wouldn’t listen!” He raises his hands in innocence from his position on a neon pink beanbag.

It’s silent before the three burst out in laughter, and Vi’s shaking her head as they catch their breath. 

“Hurry up though, we’re gonna be late to Laurier’s.” 

“Not today, Vi.” Vander’s voice bellows from behind her, making her turn her head with furrowed brows. “He gave the five of you a day off.” 

A smile graces Ekko’s lips and Powder is whooping in the back, but Vi’s lips drop into a subtle frown. 

“Awhh,” Powder coos, “poor Vi doesn’t get to see her girlfriend today, how ever will she live?” 

The teens snicker, but the pinkette notices the uneasy look on his face, the one where he has something to say but just can’t spit it out. “What?” 

The burly man runs a hand across his beard with a sigh. 

“His daughter.” The entire room pauses. “She's terribly ill today, bedridden. He’s staying home to watch over her so there’s no need for far–”

Vander doesn’t get to finish his explanation, because Vi’s pulling the keys from her pocket and rushing past him towards the front door. 

It takes almost running three red lights and a long, torturous talk with your father about being able to speak to you just for an hour, but at your bedroom door stands Vi, taking off her hat to look at you with big worried eyes. “Cherry,” she calls out. 

You feel absolutely horrendous. 

Your breaths are shallow, your ankles feel swollen beyond belief (you thanked god Violet couldn’t see them from under the blanket), and your eyelids weighed a thousand pounds, threatening to drop from fatigue. 

“What’s going on? What can I do?” she asks, wasting no time walking over to your pretty bed and taking a seat right next to you. 

You shake your pillow-elevated head, laying on your side to face her with a soft smile. “Can’t do anything, it’s just a bad day.” You reach a hand out to grab her calloused one and intertwine your fingers. “Just glad you’re here.”

“How’d you get past my father?” you whisper, relaxing into the soft matter.

Vi huffs out a laugh, readjusting to lay down as she speaks. “Convinced him that I’m extremely knowledgeable in this area because I’m studying to be in the medical field. So he thought it’d be fine if I watched over you while he feeds the cattle.” 

You giggle with a teasing look. “Oh yeah, what have you learned?” 

“Cherries are good for the heart,” she says all ‘matter of fact’ like. “They have potassium and antioxidants to reduce inflammation.” 

“I should be the one calling you cherry, then.” You hum. You don’t know how much it means to Vi to hear that she’s ‘good for you’.

It’s quiet again, and you spend time shamelessly looking over every inch of the girl’s face, landing on her powder-blue orbs. “You know, your children would have some beautiful eyes.” 

“And yours would be beautiful all around,” there’s not a trace of doubt in her voice. “What would you name them?” She asks and throws out silly names as you look around in thought, “Batman? Lice? Maddie?” 

“How is Maddie as bad as those names?” 

“I just don’t like it!”

Your giggles fill the room before you shake your intertwined hand. “Maybe either.. Josie or Clementine? They sound.. warm. Safe.” 

Vi nods, pulling you closer into her chest and draping an arm over you that cradles your back, “Josie it is.”

Your ears burn as you nuzzle into her. “And we’ll live in a big pretty house in the city, surrounded by noise and culture and life.” You wished so badly. 

“We?” Vi asks.

“Me, Josie… and you.” You look up at her with the last of your body’s strength. “If you’ll join us.” 

That spark in Violet’s stomach has grown to a full fire heating her body. Her dream girl’s lying in her arms, talking her ears off about their hypothetical future together, all while looking up at her with pupils blown wide as if she’s your knight in shining armor.

“Of course,” she agrees, “but we’ll have to bring Rusty and Gunner along.” 

You snicker with a nod. “Sounds perfect.” 

There’s a glint in the girl’s eyes as she trails her hand up your back to the soft skin of your face. “A pretty house, an adorable daughter, my rascal animals,” you let out a weak laugh, “and my pretty girl to share it all with.”

Your heart skips a beat. “Yours?” you tease.

“Yeah, mine.” 

She’s tracing meaningless patterns on your neck with one hand while tucking a piece of hair behind your ear with the other. And god, whatever this feeling is it’s too good, too sweet, too sensual. Your waiting lips are slightly agape in awe, and it doesn’t take long before Vi whispers, “Can I?” 

This time, ‘yes’ is the only word that pops into your brain and slips from your mouth as Vi’s lips crash into yours. 

Her lips are melting into yours with so much intensity that it’s hard to keep up. You let her take the lead while your scents, minds, and tongues mix together in a bundle of passion. Her grip around you never loosens. Fingers thread through your hair, and her slightly chapped lips dread leaving yours, because your kisses are the air she needs to breathe. 

A whine falls from you when she reluctantly pulls away from your sweet mouth, placing four chaste kisses on your cheeks, nose, and forehead. 

“You need to rest,” she coos, peppering your forehead with another (much needed) kiss, and keeping the close proximity as her arms wrap around you. There’s no argument, because the adrenaline rush from her kiss is wearing off and that wave of exhaustion snakes its way back. 

There you lay, bodies intertwined and souls tying as the sound of Vi’s healthy heartbeat lulls you to sleep. 

Once you’re out, you stay sound asleep as Vi hesitantly leaves your bed.

You stay sound asleep as she trots downstairs where your father places weights of guilt upon her, claiming he knows you two have been sneaking around, and it’s her fault you’re in this current state. 

You stay sound asleep as he demands she doesn’t return to the farm, permanently. 

With every inch of your worn down heart, you hate Violet Lane. 

And while deep down you know that’s not the slightest bit true, you still act like it. 

When you woke up the next day, the birds singing and a beaming face as you skipped downstairs to hug your father good morning, the last thing you expected was to hear the all too confusing news that Vi had quit. Along with the rest of her siblings and friend just an hour after. 

Unfortunately, you were none the wiser, and slowly sulked up the stairs and sank into your bed where you cried yourself back to sleep. 

For the first couple days, it didn’t make sense. The way she looked at you with those big puppy dog eyes, her tender care, the ways she spoke to and about you, it all seemed so real. It had to be real. 

On day three, you decided that acting was just one of her many skills. 

By day four, you had it figured out, or so you thought. Vi was a flirtatious asshole who wanted nothing more than some street credit for kissing the untouchable, locked up, sick princess right under her overbearing father’s nose. Coming to and believing such a conclusion felt like a stab in the side, and the knife only twisted when you factored in the fact that the others must’ve known about this, which is why they left alongside her. 

You thought you’d become accustomed to all of the heart pains in the world, but you were wrong.

Tears fell from your eyes like a waterfall until they grew dry, your baking pans yearned to be used but were shoved away into a cabinet, and what hurt the most was knowing your father was right for keeping you locked up all these years. You weren’t free, but you were safe. 

Finally, on day five, you’re engulfed by the plush matter of your couch when there’s six knocks at the door and someone’s calling out for you: “Cherry?” 

You scoff at her audacity. 

When you storm over and yank open the door with the meanest glare Vi’s ever seen from the prettiest girl she knows, you’re met with Ekko leaning against your white picket fence with his arms crossed, Powder standing next to him with a worried face, Claggor and Mylo relaxed against Vi’s bright red truck, and said truck-driver right in front of you looking absolutely sick. 

And you slam the door right in her backstabbing face.

“Seriously?” Vi huffs out, earning a stifled laugh and whistle from Mylo.

“Go away, Violet.” You yell through the door, voice the sternest she’s ever heard.

“Fuck no. What’s going on?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” you counter, back pressed against your barrier. “You got all that you wanted from me, and then you quit and disappear from my life. So why are you back, huh?” 

You’re lucky you’re packed with pent up anger, because tears are bubbling in the corners of your eyes and yelling is the only thing keeping them from spilling over.

“What?” the pinkette's completely taken aback, because she has no clue what you’re on about. 

“That’s not–” she sighs, lowering her voice before speaking. “I’ll never get enough of you. I’d take a thousand kisses and so, so much more if you’d let me, but that’s not why I see you, angel.”

Your eyes soften and hurt brows furrow because damn, she’s a good actress. 

“And I didn’t quit. That afternoon when you fell asleep, your old man practically dragged me out of your house and fired me. Said I caused your symptoms to worsen. I thought I’d lay low for a few days– and believe me when I say these were the hardest days of my life, but I didn’t want to get you in any trouble.” 

Your bottom lip is bitten red until you finally cave, creeping the door open just enough to show your face.

“You promise?” you ask, and Violet’s heart is aching. 

“Cross my heart.” she replies.

That’s all it takes for you to swing the door open and jump into her arms. She stumbles back in surprise before applying the same force, arms wrapping around your waist as she melts into yours cradling her neck. 

You’re sniffling, taking deep breaths before you speak. “Really thought you left me,” you croak out. 

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” she teases, placing a tender kiss on your forehead as you giggle and blink away tears. 

“Now go get changed, we’re going out,” a grin tugs at the corner of her lips when your happy eyes make contact with hers. You blink, an idea flashing across your face, before pulling her inside by the wrist, yelling “just a minute!” to the others, before hastily shutting the door. 

Violet’s eyes graze over every last atom of your body as your hips sway in front of her, babbling with Powder about who knows what, because she hasn’t been focused since you dragged her into your bedroom ‘innocently’ needing help with your outfit. 

She stood in your doorway curiously, thinking she’d only be there for a second, maybe you’d never been to a rodeo and needed advice. 

That was, until you paused at your walk in closet, a cheeky smirk on your lips that Vi desperately wanted to taste as you nod your head towards the bed. “Sit.” 

And she obeyed, manspread legs at the edge of your bed as you walk infront of her with a few items on white hangers. All frills, lace, denim skirts and shorts, and Vi’s reasonably concluded she died and went to heaven. 

“I could wear..” you shift the hangers around, “this with this skirt, or maybe these shorts and.. ooh, these boots match my panties.” You get a rise out of seeing the usually suave girl short circuit at the words that bless her ears. Definitely in heaven. 

But Vi came to the realization that she was, in fact, alive. Because her heart truly stopped beating when she helped you settle on your pieces, threw her a sugary sweet “thanks, Vi,” did a casual 180, and stuck your ass out to drag your skirt down painfully slow. 

Oh, those boots do match your panties. 

Now here you stand in a lacy red top, denim shorts that have her thanking god for your creation, and matching cherry red cowgirl boots that graced her eyes the first day you met. 

Neverending chatter fills your ears from other attendees, the overwhelming scent of kettle popcorn from a nearby booth stuffs your nostrils, and you see Ekko nudge at Vi, saying something that you can’t hear over the bluenette beside you talking your ear off about the stunning horses she sees. 

Suddenly, Vi’s walking up to you and smushing her hat onto your head with her famous smirk. “Keep it safe for me, doll?”

You nod mindlessly, a hand coming up to fix its position on your head. 

“Where ya goin’?” Powder calls out to the platinum blonde boy who’s ushering Vi to hurry up.

“Our annual face off,” he throws her a wink, and the girl’s rolling her eyes with a playful scoff. 

Before you can even ask, she’s locking arms with you and dragging you along to an even more crowded area. There’s various groups of people surrounding a blocked off area containing a big, black, circular inflatable mat. And directly in the middle is a mischievous brown mechanical bull. 

“Are they..” and your question is deemed useless when Ekko mounts the hairy machine, pumping his hands up in motion for the crowd to whoop and holler. Of course, they do. 

Ekko does good, to say the least.

One hand grips the bull while the other is thrown up into the air as the machine thrashes him and his white locs every which way. The intensity increases as it tauntingly speeds up, thrashing harder, and spinning recklessly. Finally, he’s bucked off, rolling to a stand and flashing his pearly whites as the crowd cheers.

A giggle falls from your mouth as your hip nudges Powder who’s in complete awe, and she warms in embarrassment. 

Vi and Ekko fake tension, sending joking competitive glares as they switch places. Now it’s the pink haired cowgirl that’s mounting the mechanical animal. 

You never thought you’d be admiring this sort of thing, but Violet’s never fails to twist your stomach in knots.

With a hand gripping the bull and the other resting on the back of her head, she bucks her hips back and forth to counter the thrashing machine. She’s focused, her sculpted muscles flexing as she holds on tight, but a cocky smile is plastered on her face with teeth biting down on her rosy lips. 

Surrounding girls (including yourself) are wooing at the sight. 

Vi makes it through the most chaotic shakes and spins as the bull finally comes to a controlled stop, and you’re cheering louder than you ever thought you could. 

“Woo! Hell yeah!” you cry out. The girl’s cheesing harder than ever when she hears your support, and the smile lasts all the way over to a fake booing Ekko who rolls his eyes and slips her a twenty dollar bill from his pocket. 

You and Powder unlock arms to move over to the riders. A chuckle of amusement spills from you, and you’re securing Violet’s hat back over her fluffy hair. “That was real impressive, cowgirl.” 

“Yeah?” she coos. 

“Yeah.” The atmosphere grows heavier, each of your eyes searching the other’s like there’s treasure to find. But your little staring contest as Claggor speaks. 

“Earth to lovebirds,” he hums politely. “You coming?” 

You’re quick to nod, but Vi gently holds your wrist, making you pause. “Actually, I wanted to show cherry around some more. Catch up later?” She asks, but she’s already pulling you away before Claggor nods in agreement and the group goes in the opposite direction as you. 

You speed up, feet coming into step with the girl who’s needily pulling you. Her silent prayers are answered when she spots a more secluded area behind a building and some fences. 

“Vi,” you snicker, cheeks warming in nervousness, “what are we doing?” 

She hums through half lidded orbs, hands finding their place on your hips and hastily pushing you against the wall that covers the two of you from the eyes of others. You’re looking up at her with the sweetest glint in your eyes and it’s driving her absolutely mad. 

“You said I was real impressive, right?” Her voice is smoother, breathier. 

Ohh.

You tilt your head, teeth chewing on your abused bottom lip before you mutter. “That’s right.. think you deserve a reward, huh?” 

“Exactly what I was thinkin’, sweetheart.” 

The newfound nickname is sending a shiver up your spine that transforms into a blazing warmth when Vi’s lips fit into yours like puzzle pieces. This time, messy limbs are thrown over each other. Your hand travels from her hands that are cradling your heated face, down to her abs (making her shiver as you scrape your nails across), to tangle in what pink locks aren’t captured by her hat. 

A strong hand makes its way around your waist, pulling you dangerously closer to rub against her body. God, she’s good at this.

“Vi..” you’re finally able to whisper as she trails kisses along your jaw and down to your neck. You can feel her smirk against the area where she peppers you with affection. 

And it’s perfect.

Not just the way she’s kissing you, or the fact that you’re kissing at all. It’s the environment, the feelings, the friendships that you’ve made with the others, the fact that for today, you’re living a normal life. It’s the fact that for a moment, you can cheer on your friends in a competition, you can lock arms with a friend and woo over others, you can get lost in passionate kisses with a girl and not have another care in the world. 

You wished it could stay this way forever. 

You lose all sense of shame, letting a soft grunt slip from your lips at the feeling of teeth and a ‘pop’ on your neck. It’s only a matter of seconds before both of your eyes widen and Vi’s pulling back with a crooked smile on her face. 

“Did you..” 

She wordlessly eyes the red-purple love bite forming on the back-side of your neck, just below your ear. 

“Violet!” you drag out with a whine, sending her into a soft fit of laughter. She feels guilty, but you’re just too cute. 

You have a love-hate relationship with the neon lights that are beaming throughout the spacious room that brings more noise than you’ve heard in the past five years– maybe more than your entire life. 

On one hand, the flashing colors are starting to give you a major headache. On the other, the red glow that decorates Violet’s face as she grins down at you has your insides doing summersaults. 

Nevermind. You love the lights. 

“C’mon y’all,” Powder calls out with a chipper expression. Ekko’s standing properly in line and his blue haired companion, who’s already freestyling, spins out of control and squeals up a storm. 

“You ready?” Vi’s words kiss your ear as she holds both of your hands, pulling you out to the dance floor. 

“Are you?” 

Your sass has her laughing, and she brings her tongue out to wet her bottom lip. “Follow my lead, cherry.” 

And for a few moments, you do. All of the surrounding crowd dances the same to the upbeat, fast-paced country song that pierces your ears, so you replicate Vi’s mixed steps and cute little head tilts with her hand on that chocolate hat. 

But then the song changes, it’s more passion filled and fiery. All it takes is Powder spinning out of line and shamelessly making her own moves before you’re formulating the steps in your head. From movies you watched religiously to mindlessly shuffling your own feet late at night, you danced for the little girl who longed to have fun, who longed to be free. 

You’re clicking the heels of your boots against the ground, moving your hips as fluid as water, and bringing your hands up just for them to slide down your sides with a heart-stopping smile tugging at your lips. 

Violet’s in awe, because her girl’s fearless and full of smiles, and she couldn’t be happier for you. 

And there’s no doubt in her mind that this is the only girl she’ll ever want, need, crave. 

She whistles, looking up and down with the most amused expression you’ve ever encountered. “Jesus, alright you win, doll.”

“Yeah?” The tease comes out a bit breathless, but you play it off as dancing too wildly.

You look at the pink haired beauty through thick lashes. Inching dangerously closer as you sway, Violet’s hands have a powerful hold on your soft waist. You stumble over your feet once, then twice, and she notices. 

“Slow down there cowgirl,” she chuckles, but her gaze is tender under the carefree mask. “You alright?”

It’s unbearably toasty in the room, and you feel two times hotter with each passing second. But you don’t want it to end, so you wave her off, throwing out an “I’m good!”

But you’re not, and it’s evident on your face when the small ‘headache’ turns to tight pressure smothering your scalp, and you’re losing your balance as you search for an exit. 

“I just need some air,” you mumble, turning your head. The room shifted under your feet, vision blurring in a haze. You took three measly steps forward, and on your fourth, you crumbled.

Your body gives out under you, and Vi’s right there to catch you when it does. Her arms snake around your waist to hold you up before she lifts you in her arms with big eyes and wavering lips. 

“Shit. Ekko, come here! Powder, go get Mylo and Claggor.” 

The five haul ass to Vi’s truck, the pinkette tossing her keys to Ekko as he and Mylo hop in the front. She, Claggor, and Powder take seats in the bed of the truck. When you finally come to, your back is laid against Vi’s worrisome chest, and you get the fresh air you were looking for from the speed Ekko’s driving to get you home. 

But when you pull into the driveway of your home, there’s already a car waiting for you, and there stands your father with his arms crossed and pure fury in his eyes. 

And you’re in so much fucking trouble. 

The others attempt to plead your case, in good ways and in bad, as the man scolds everyone in sight.

“Mister, we just went out to dance.” 

“She’s not a child you know, you can’t keep her cooped up here forever.”

“Please just understand.” 

Everything goes in one ear and out the other, because in the chaos silently sits you and Violet. You’re still breathless, and this headache is gonna last longer than you want it to, but you relax into the warmth of Vi for one last time. 

You pull back, ignoring the spike of pain that flashes across your brain, and turn to the girl with a tight lipped smile. “I’m sorry, you guys should just go.” 

She looks pained, like she wants to say something, she wants to help. But she nods, placing a chaste kiss to your temple just as you’re sliding out of the truck bed and over to your father. He hastily drags you inside while you bid farewell to your moping knights.

With every inch of your worn down heart, you love Violet Lane. 

And you’re not an idiot, you’re sure she loves you too. 

That’s what makes coming to a conclusion impossible on almost every level. 

Your physical heart says this is the most idiotic decision you’ve made in your entire life. You’ve had worse symptoms than normal, you’re putting yourself in danger in the name of ‘fun’, and the thought that’s lingering in the back of everyone’s mind is one you can’t ignore: just how long will you make it? 

Your mental heart says this is the best thing you’ve ever done. You’re happy, you’re in love, you have real friends, and you’re finally starting to see the point in living. Not just from a tv screen or the books your father supplies, but through your own eyes and experiences. And even though your father seemed overbearing, you know he’s afraid. He’s taken on all of the worry and stress so that you don’t have to. If you wanted something to change, you had to take the leap yourself. But you’re not sure you can.

There’s six knocks at the door, and you stay seated in your position on the couch. “It’s open,” you call out.

The clack of familiar boots enter the room, and a wave of musk and amber suffocate you when Vi walks past you to sit at your side. 

It’s silent. Not your comfortable, daydream filled state of silence that Vi could watch you in forever. It’s awkward, strangulating silence, and she can’t take it.

“Yesterday was..”

“...amazing.” “A mistake.” 

You speak at the same time, eyes flickering at each other's response. 

“What are you talking about?” Vi asks, setting her textbooks down. You don’t miss the newfound waver in the back of her voice. 

You don’t respond. You don’t want to go through with this conversation.

“..Is this about the hickey?” she flashes a strained smile, “I’m sorry if he saw it, doll. Reall–”

“This isn’t a joke, Violet.” you finally speak, eyes strictly trained down on your fiddling hands in your lap. The tears are bubbling at your eyelids and that itchy, sore feeling is crawling its way up your throat. 

“Then what is it about? You and your dad? Look, I can talk to him, I’ll make things right.” Her voice is increasingly wavered, desperate, scared. 

“Our–” you inhale a shaky breath, “– this, us, whatever we are is an inconvenience. An inconvenience to my father, an inconvenience to my health, an inconvenience to you.” Your voice breaks with the last word. “I’m a burden Violet, face it.”

You can’t see it with the tears blurring your vision, but Vi’s shaking her head in horror. “No. No, what are you going on about? You aren–” 

“God just face it, Vi. All you wanted was to love a girl and you got a defective one.” You spit the words out like they sting on your tongue. “Soon, you’ll be annoyed by everything I can’t do and bored of everything I can.” 

“Maybe we’re just not…” you can��t continue as silent tears transform into quiet little sobs. 

Vi’s heart aches as she kneels down on the floor in front of you, examining your now puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. She wants nothing more than to kiss the pain away, but first she has to fix that worrisome little mind of yours.

One hand intertwines with your anxious ones, and the other reaches up as rough fingers delicately hold your chin, a soft thumb rubs back and forth against your cheek. She whispers out your name with a voice that’s holding back sadness of her own. When you’re finally ready to look at her, she smiles delicately.

“You don’t know how bad I want you. But I’ll wait until the end of time if you ask me to. I’d lasso the moon and bring it down for you if you asked.” You recognize her sweet words from your first date, and you’re weakly melting into the palm of her hand that’s sliding to cup your face. 

“I meant it then, and I mean it now,” she whispers. “I will never be annoyed by what you can or can’t do– god, I'd sit here and talk to you about slugs all day everyday if that’s what you really wanted.” That has you scoffing, fighting back a smile at her silly words. 

“Love isn’t about the activities you can or can’t do, it’s about a connection, our connection, and what we do with it. So, you can get rid of me if this is all true and that’s what you really want, but I will never stop loving you.” She’s speaking so sweetly, and before she even finishes her sentence you’ve made up your mind. 

“You’re good for my heart, cherry.” 

Those are the last words she can get out before you’re throwing yourself forward and locking lips with the love of your life. 

It starts off slow, soft, an apology for the rollercoaster of emotions and blunder of nonsense you put yourselves through. Then, Vi’s hands are cupping your face and the back of your head while yours are thrown around her neck. It’s needier, sloppier, and her tongue slipping into your mouth shows it’s moved from an apology to ‘let me make you feel better’.

You hum into the kisses with pleasure, but you wanted more. Needed more. Without hesitation, you slip a hand under Vi’s tight t-shirt, running a hand up and down her abs.

The action sends a shiver down her spine, and you gasp in surprise when the sculpted girl wraps your legs around her waist and lifts you into her arms. 

You’re giggling as she walks up the stairs and into your bedroom. Your litter smooches down her jaw and to that neglected neck, mimicking what she’s done for you. Vi slips a hand under the back of your shirt, making you hum into her neck at the warmth. 

Pop.

A devilish grin graces your angelic face when you pull back, eyes flickering from Violet’s to the bruise on her neck. 

The girl grins, catching your mouth in a wet kiss. “You’re asking for more, y’know,” she warns, and her lustful eyes are turning your brain to mush.  

“Good. I want more. Need you all over me,” 

Your confident words are canceled out by a sweet gasp that leaves you when Vi bucks her hips. 

“You’ve gotta say it then,” she orders.

“Say.. what?” 

She chuckles. “Tell me what you want, baby.” 

You swear there’s a pool of slick in your underwear. 

“Want you to fuck me till I cum, please please please,” you beg, hiding in the crook of her neck.

“Fuck,” is all she can choke out, because she’s never wanted wanted a girl this fucking much. Your begging is all she needs to hear before she’s stripping you out of your top, unclasping your pretty bra with one hand, and flipping you over onto your back. 

You’re throwing your head back with a soft moan, running a hand through her pink strands while Vi latches onto one of your rock hard nipples. Her hand trails down your abdomen and to your pretty little skirt. The fabric slides down your legs and off your delicate ankles, and the girl’s gawking at your panties. 

“Vi, please please,” you moan in impatience. 

She lets out a cruel chuckle, fingertips pulling down the fabric that’s completely drenched by your arousal. 

Holy fuck. 

She’s moving faster now, pulling her shirt over her head, and you don’t have a chance to drool over her bare muscles as she sits against the headboard of the bed and pulls you back by your hips into her lap. 

Your back’s pressed against her chest, and she pulls your legs apart making cool air attacking your lips. One arm hooks under your knee and holds tight, making sure you stay perfectly spread for her. 

“Suck,” she whispers, and two of her calloused fingers are shoved in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the nubs, letting drool pool around them as Vi looks down at you like she wants to ravish you. 

“Wanted to touch you like this for so long.”

Her fingers are dragging out of your mouth and down to your sensitive slit to your swollen clit. You’re already messily bucking your hips against her as she pushes soft circles against your bundle of nerves. 

She relishes in the way your eyes roll back before she decides she’s done being a tease, sinking her wet fingers into you three full knuckles deep. 

“Violet– holy fuck yesyesyes,” you whine, quickly closing your legs at the newfound pleasure. But Vi’s pulling them right back apart as she pumps into you faster.

She peppers kisses on your temple, whispering sweet nothings about how you’re ‘so damn pretty’ and she’s been dying to see your ‘fucked out face’. 

“Yeah, oh fuuck.” you squirm under her control, a knot of passion and pleasure building in your gut. 

“Yeah? Yeah, baby?” She speaks breathily. The way she’s mocking you and the depth her fingers are reaching is sending you right over the edge. Your toes curl while writhing pleasure shoots through your body, and all you can see is stars. 

“Fuck fuck, I’m– hah,” 

Vi’s shushing you softly, keeping her speed and strength as your cunt tightens around her fingers. 

Your moans are like angels blessing your ears as you cum, gushing on her skilled fingers. 

The only noises in the room are your exhausted pants, the slick of your cunt as Vi pulls her fingers out terribly slow, and the bed shifting under the absence and reappearance of pure muscle. 

Except this time, the pinkette’s knelt in front of the bed. 

She pulls you to the edge by the soft skin of your thighs, and piercing blue eyes joined by a warm pink tongue threaten to have you wheel-chair bound by morning. 

“Let me clean you up, angel.” 

Despite being near nothing but muscle, Vi’s bare body is incredibly comfortable. 

“And he made a giant splotch of paint on the wall with his ass.” 

You gasp, choking out a little giggle of shock as Vi tells you stories of her childhood, specifically all the stupid situations they got themselves into. The just-right bath water is engulfing your intertwined bodies. Vi’s fingers are threading through your hair as your head rests on her shoulder. Your body sits in between her legs, and your arms lazily drape around her waist. 

“How mad was Vander?” you ask.

“He just… laughed. I’ve never really seen him mad, just disappointed at times.” She shrugs. “He knows kids make stupid mistakes, learn, and grow.” 

You hum, nuzzling further into her. “I hope I’m that calm when I’m a mom,” 

You pause.

“If I’m a mom.” 

That strikes right through Violet’s swollen heart, and she shakes her head, holding you a little closer. 

“You’re gonna be perfect.” She reassures. “Josie.. Gunner.. Rusty, Daisy, and our big beautiful city house are going to be so lucky to have you. I’m so lucky to have you. Never gettin’ rid of me.

You smile against her skin, placing a loving kiss. 

“Even if it takes ages for my pops to understand?” you mutter. 

“I don’t care if it takes a millennium.” she states confidently, a tender kiss graces your forehead before she looks you in the eyes.

“I love you, cherry.” 

And this time, you’re done holding back.

“I love you, Violet.” 

Your fingers, hearts, and lips intertwined as you share your most passionate kiss yet, one of the many for years to come.

Five years, to be exact. 

And five years later, as the blood refuses to circulate throughout your body and your heart ceases to beat, you die in Violet's arms.

Through her sobs and shattered heart, she can only smile at the fact that all the way until your death, she helped you truly live.

silknspice

[azrielbrainrot]

Your Name Is a Sin I Breathe Like Oxygen

Pairing: Demon!Rhysand x Angel!Reader

Kinktober 2024: Corruption

Description: Rhysand won't rest until he's brought his angel down to hell with him.

Warnings: Smut, oral sex, hand job, things that shouldn't be happening in a church, this is definitely sacrilegious, slight dom/sub dynamics, dirty talk

Word Count: 3,5k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Notes: This story kept getting longer and longer, i don't know what happened, but I could actually write a part 2 eventually if anyone wants. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

It's not often you find yourself walking alone. If you put aside the apprehension you were feeling you could admit that it was a beautiful night, and that walking through the field with only the faint sound of the wind and faraway crickets felt incredibly relaxing. Unfortunately, the reason behind this walk was anything but relaxing, in fact it was about to change your life forever.

An abandoned church comes into view, the fact that no believers lingered within should have been enough for you to turn back, but you find yourself walking towards it instead. The overgrown weeds and flowers obscured the path, one no one had used in decades - no one except for him, and now you.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as you walk closer, the undeniably dark energy coming from inside could only mean one thing. It makes you pause in your steps, walking to him would be giving in, you knew better than anyone, but walking away brought a weight to your chest you didn't think you could survive, didn't think you would want to.

And so you step inside, one foot in front of the other, leading you deeper into sin, straight to your downfall.

The inside of the church was barren, almost every object having been sold or destroyed by humans. Had he brought you here to show you how ungrateful and destructive humans could be? It certainly wasn't anything new to you.

The demon stood at the altar, back turned to you as he studied the way the weeds had traveled up the walls, obscuring any remaining holy images. The black clothes he wore were the complete contrast to your long white dress. The suit pants fit him perfectly, tailored to his body, and the shirt seemed to be made of a soft almost translucent material, showcasing the muscles hiding under it. There was no doubt in your mind that he had led numerous souls to perdition.

You knew he could feel your presence, probably ever since you set foot on this field. At first you almost feel thankful that he was choosing to ignore you and let you make your own decision with no rush, but it soon turned into annoyance when you realized he's forcing you to accept that you came here of your own choice, so you can't try to blame him. It shouldn't surprise you that he's not going easy on you, he never has.

“Rhysand,” you call out his name when it's obvious he won't be the one to acknowledge you first.

Your voice trembles despite your best efforts, and even though you've grown accustomed to seeing him, - more than you ever should have, - a chill still runs down your spine when he turns slowly and his striking violet eyes fall on you, heart racing in your chest as his smirk grows.

“I knew you wouldn't disappoint me, my sweet angel,” he says with a hint of pride.

His voice sends goosebumps over your skin, unfortunately you can't even bring yourself to try and justify them as a result of solely fear, there's something else blooming in the pit of your stomach, and growing heavier on your chest.

Rhysand walks to you, every instinct telling you to turn back and run, but you don't, you stay in place, watching him take every step with damning anticipation.

“Are you finally ready to stop playing these fruitless games?”

A glare passes through your eyes, but you hold your tongue. What he calls games was your duty to God and the remaining angels, to the good in the world, one you had failed completely by even breathing near him, let alone the lengthy talks you've had. Still, you couldn't deny that you had been grasping at it far longer than you should have.

If you were being honest with yourself, you had fallen the first time you saw him and let him tease you to no end without ever reaching for your sword, when you saw an injured demon and decided to help him instead of finishing the job, you lost the moment you allowed him to ever put a smile on your face, and a need you couldn't even begin to explain inside you.

He raises a hand slowly, tentatively reaching for your face, half expecting you to push him away like you had done every other time. When you still don't move, only looking into his eyes, not even sure what you were searching for, he lets out a breath, smirk broadening on his face, putting his sharp canines on display. He had already won, you both knew it.

“Not running from me this time?”

His hand cups your cheek, thumb caressing your skin softly, much too innocently for the look playing in his eyes and the dark energy emitting off him in thick waves. When the pad of his thumb runs over your bottom lip, playing with the plump flesh, and you still don't move, a sound suspiciously close to a moan escapes him.

“Gonna let me do anything I want to you?” He leans closer, breath hitting your skin, and you can't help but close your eyes, nails sinking into the palms of your hands, balling your fists as hard as you could. It was too much, he was too much.

A tremble runs through your form, that calm and collected front you put up crumbling with every second. You nod, eyes still closed and heart racing when you feel his lips fall on yours, delicately, so unlike him. This isn't something you ever remember doing, if you had at all, the memories of your human life had long since been erased, but your lips move against his as if kissing him came naturally to you.

When he pulls away, far too soon for your liking, you open your eyes on instinct, fear rearing its head as you watch him. The glamor he wore in the human world had been dropped, revealing sharp canine teeth and slits running through his beautiful violet irises. The marks etched onto his chest were unknown to you, but you recognized them as some sort of demonic spell.

His hand was wrapped around your neck, having moved there while he kissed you, except now it was covered in black up to his wrist, the pigment visible in lines as it ran through his veins up his arm. And his wings, you're surprised they hadn't been the first thing you noticed. They stood tall behind him, dark crimson bat-like wings, easily twice the size of your white feathered ones. You can't help, but pull your own in closer to your body at the sight.

Rhysand looked positively wicked, downright sinful, as he studied you intensely, eyes running through every inch of exposed skin with a knowing look shining in the violet. This was the face of a predator watching its prey, except he had no plans of killing you, and that excited you far too much for your own good.

“Need you to answer me, angel,” he purrs, holding onto your chin when you go to nod once again, “Use your words.”

Your eyes widen slightly, swallowing down the nerves before finally finding your voice, and whatever courage or stupidity you had left, “I won't run. Not from you.”

A moan escapes him, a pleased sound coming from deep in his chest, and he kisses you again, a lot more passionately than before, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth while you struggle to keep up. His hands roam over your body, sending a flurry of butterflies flying inside your stomach, pulling you closer into him, humming into the kiss when you finally manage to move, your hands reaching for his chest tentatively, falling over his overheated skin.

A noise behind him almost pulls your attention away, but he quickly steals it back when he starts kissing down your neck, biting softly onto the unmarred skin, marking it with his teeth. A demon was marking you as his own, and God helped you, you were moaning in pleasure as he did.

It's only when he starts walking backwards, a firm arm wrapped around your waist pulling you along with him and sits down, that you notice the sound you heard earlier was a chair being magically pushed to the center of the altar. Your body wants to follow him, wanting to keep his mouth on your neck, or bring it back to yours, but his hands fall on your hips, stopping you, keeping you on your feet, standing between his legs as he looks up at you with a smirk, one that keeps growing as he takes note of your heavy lidded eyes and soft pants escaping your agape mouth, the crease between your brows.

“I'll keep kissing you in a moment,” he assures, your treacherous body relaxing under his grip. He chuckles at this, you were certainly making this a lot easier for him than he imagined.

“Wanna take your dress off for me first?”

This makes you tense up once more, almost taking a step back if it weren't for his hold on you. He lets out an understanding hum, though it comes out tainted with a hint of condescension.

“I know they like keeping you innocent and pure up there, but if you want to keep going you'll have to let go of all of that.” He tilts his head, catching your gaze. “I can't fuck you properly with your clothes on.”

It's obvious you couldn't keep the embarrassment over his choice of words out of your expression when he laughs, leaning forward and hiding his face on your stomach, only worsening the already accelerated rhythm of your heart.

“I'm not sure how I feel about you using me for your own amusement,” you did your best to keep your voice from trembling, grasping for some sense of control over the situation.

“You know exactly how it makes you feel,” he murmurs against the fabric of your dress, kissing over your navel before leaning back against the chair, both of his hands falling from your body, and immediately you miss his warmth on you.

Rhysand doesn't say anything else, but he didn't need to, his eyes said it all as he watched you, he wouldn't repeat himself. You find yourself looking up behind him, where familiar statues should be if this were a working church. Could they see you now?

“Eyes on me,” the demon orders. Your gaze meets his immediately, a hint of fear running through your body. “The only people in the world that matter right now are you and me.”

He was wrong. Your actions would cause a lot of trouble and it wouldn't be only for you. The same way his triumph over you wouldn't affect only him. This moment would be recorded in history for both of your worlds, but you had already made your choice, you were more than aware that it was the wrong one as well, and so you reach for the buttons on your dress, undoing them with shaky hands, eyes never straying from his this time, not even when you let the dress drop at your feet, revealing your untainted skin to his hungry eyes.

It feels like the world stopped spinning when his eyes moved from yours and traveled down your body, taking note of every inch appreciatively. Fighting the urge to cover yourself was harder than you imagined it would be, and for some reason the urge to touch him and strip him of his own clothes was even stronger.

“Get on your knees.”

“What?”

The desire in his eyes only grows when he senses your hesitation. He wanted you to fall kneeling down at the altar, the same way you had ascended.

Rhysand sits up again, reaching for your hand and bringing two of your fingers into his mouth, sucking on them and swirling his tongue around. You can't help but let out a gasp, your thighs pressing together, eyes transfixed on his mouth.

He pulls them out and kisses your palm innocently, unable to hide the grin on his lips. “ I want you to suck my cock, angel,” he clarifies, as if you didn't know what he meant, as if that wasn't the reason you were holding back.

“I've never-” You swallow, not wanting to avert your gaze and be warned against it again, but finding it incredibly difficult to keep looking into those sinful violet eyes of his. “I don't know how.”

“I'll teach you.”

He made it seem like it was the easiest thing in the world, that he wasn't talking about something that would condemn you to eternal damnation at his side, but you knew what you wanted to do, knew what you were going to do, and so you drop to your knees in front of the demon, looking up at him like he was your God.

You can almost feel the light getting sucked out of you, disappearing in the midst of his darkness. It almost makes you wonder how you ended up like this, if fate had already seen this end for you, if it would have still happened if you hadn't met him. The thought makes your heart feel tight for some reason.

His hand grabs your neck unexpectedly, pulling you up so he could kiss you once again, easing your nerves somewhat, everything else disappearing when his mouth fell over yours. When he pulls away you find yourself chasing after him, and he simply chuckles and gives you one more kiss, pulling away for good with a playful lick over your lips, leaning back against the chair like a king on his throne.

“You need to take my cock out to start,” he says after a while with a hint of amusement. You didn't know why you thought he would make this any easier. Shaky hands fall over his pants, slowly unbuttoning them, trying your best to ignore the beating of your heart and most of all the hardness visible through the fabric. Rhysand seemed to enjoy every second of it, you could almost hear him purring in delight.

With a deep breath you push his underwear down, revealing him to your terrified but curious eyes, gasping softly when his cock springs free, falling against his stomach. Biting your lip, your hand moved to grab him, not knowing what else to do, you squeeze him harder, a tingling feeling rushing over your stomach when he rewards you with a moan, startled eyes finding his.

It shouldn't come as a surprise that you find him already watching you, he hadn't taken his eyes off you ever since you first arrived after all, but it almost makes you feel like you were caught doing something you were not supposed to.

“Maybe you're a natural.”

“I-”

“I know, angel,” he assures, voice deepened by something you couldn't quite put your finger on, his hand coming down to cup your head, bringing you in closer, a sigh escaping him when you offer no resistance. “I'll show you.”

Rhysand surprises you one more time when he leans up and lets his spit drop over the head of his cock, his hand spreading it down to the base and falling over yours, guiding your hand up and down his length, tightening your hold on him.

“I'll let you start slow,” he says with a teasing grin in between moans, “so you can't say I'm not considerate.”

You roll your eyes lightly, too focused on the task at hand and your every instinct screaming at you, to tamper it down. He chuckles and lets go of your hand, letting you take over, entranced by the way your fist barely fits around him and every noise that escapes him.

“As good as this feels, I know your mouth will feel a lot better.”

Right. You knew that's what he wanted, but while this is manageable, just the thought of going further makes you freeze.

“I shouldn't be doing this,” your voice is barely above a whisper.

“No, you shouldn't,” he murmurs, looking down at you with an evil twinkle in his eyes, “but that doesn't matter anymore.”

You couldn't turn back the clock, and even if you begged on your knees and repented for thousands of years you wouldn't be allowed back into heaven, not after letting things get this far. You've passed the point of no return, there was nothing stopping you from letting yourself get consumed by sin, by him.

He notices the change in your eyes, but says nothing, his hand moving back to your head instead, helping guide your movements just like he had promised he would earlier, still keeping his touch light in case you wanted to move back.

“Lick me from base to tip, fuck just like that. Keep your eyes on me.” You do your best to let your body follow his commands without thinking, focusing on the sounds he makes, finding power in knowing you're the reason behind them. “Now suck over the head, swirl your tongue around like I did with your fingers.”

It's hard to know what to expect when you never thought you'd be doing something like this in the first place, but you certainly didn't realize how enjoyable it could be for you. The choked moan he lets out when you suck on the head again without him instructing you to, gathering the liquid leaking from his tip with your tongue brings you more pleasure than anything ever has before.

“Try taking as much into your mouth as you can.” The way his voice is getting breathier motivates you to do better, wanting to make him feel even a bit of the way you did every time he's around. “Just be careful with your teeth and relax your throat, you're doing so good for me.”

He helped you with his grip on your head, pushing himself inside your mouth slowly, pausing for a moment every time you gagged. It was hard to hold his gaze, not only from embarrassment but also from the tears gathering in your eyes, but you did, God you did every little thing he told you to and more, reveling in his reactions.

“What a good little angel.”

This makes you glare up at him, teeth scraping along his skin as a warning, of course he only laughs in response, thumbing at your cheek, entranced by the way his sweet little angel sucks his cock, a little fire in her eyes, just the way he likes it.

A shudder runs through him, and you suspect you know exactly what it means. Fitting all of him inside your mouth would be impossible, it feels surreal that you even made it this far, so you start pumping your hand over the rest of his length in sync with the way your mouth moves over him, having to stop yourself from smiling when it draws out even louder moans from him, his hand tugging at your hair harder, losing himself - it wasn't even close to how far you drifted from your now former self, but it was a start, a small victory of your own even if you won it amidst your defeat.

Even if it happened because of your efforts, you're still surprised when he spills inside your mouth, hips lifting off the chair to thrust in a couple of times as he lets out sick praises and mumbles of your name. When he pulls out of you, the strain in your jaw catches up to you, and you can't help but cough when you take in too much air.

You swallowed everything on instinct, not truly knowing what else to do, but it seemed to please him as he caressed your face, making an even bigger mess of it with a triumphant look in his eyes. This is what he had always wanted, to see you broken at his feet, completely at his mercy.

“What now?”

You were almost scared to ask, afraid he would throw you away now that he's gotten what he wanted. Your voice came out scratchy, a slow ache forming in your abused throat, a reminder of what you had done.

The demon looked confused for a moment, his smile faltering slightly and a crease forming between his brows, almost as if he didn't understand your defeated expression. You had never asked but judging from his body, he had been born a demon so he would never know what it was like to be an angel, and fall in such a shameful way.

He blows air through his nose and looks up for a moment, amusement settling over his face. Grabbing you by your underarms, he lifts you up onto his lap before you even have a chance to react, hands falling over his chest.

“Now I'm going to take you to your new home, my little demon,” he whispers, leaning closer and brushing his lips against yours playfully, unable to hide the chuckle when your eyes widen further at the new pet name, “and I'm going to help you with that little problem between your legs, show you pleasure you never thought possible.”

[ashthemadwriter-archived]

Baby Boy Darling!

—Your boyfriend turning into a little baby? What are you going to do with him?

Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

Pairings: Dazai, Chuuya, Fyodor, Nikolai, Ranpo, Jouno X Fem! Reader

Genre: Fluff, Humor

Format: Drabble

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.8K

A/n: Mildly rushed but acceptable ig!

↳Osamu Dazai

"You know... I don't think this is a good choice for a bedtime story"

The little infant in your arms looked at you curiously. He wasn't old enough to make any sounds other than crying, but the martyred expression he was wearing and his firm grip on your thumb displayed his intention with no complicacy. Nevertheless, that didn't stop you from putting the suicide manual on the nightstand.

"Now now, don't look at me like that. I'm a good babysitter, and a good babysitter doesn't teach babies ways to kill themselves"

You gently caressed his puffy cheeks. "I'm also a generous babysitter, which is why I don't slap your hand away when you grab my boobs"

His gaze fell on his small chubby hand that was trying to get a hold of your breast. It was a good thing you had a T-shirt on, or with the way he was trying to cup them they would've been bleeding by now.

"I'm sorry honey, I don't think you can hold them anymore. Your hands are just too tiny!"

He whined and pouted in response.

"I know! I'm sad too. C'mon, smile a little for me will you? Smile for your mommy"

If he was still an adult, he would have rolled his eyes and smiled, but he wasn't. He was just a cranky baby who was probably planning your murder in his cute little head.

"Get it? Mommy? I'm your mommy! God you didn't have a sense of humor when you were a child did you? I miss my kind, loving boyfriend"

He looked at you unfazedly.

"Alright, how about I sing you a song? Twinkle twinkle little star, how I wonder what you aaaaaaaa— ah!?"

Dazed, you looked down at your baby boyfriend with widened eyes, only to find him staring back at you while his mouth was on your right breast. He was trying to suck on it, but that wasn't easy when it was covered with two layers of clothes, your bra and your T-shirt. Your eyebrows jumped in surprise.

"Wow, you still like the right one better?"

↳Fyodor Dostoyevsky

"So this is the power imbalance they were talking about huh?"

The violet eyed infant stares at you blankly, having a "it won't be this way for long" look in his eyes. You're holding him in front of you while sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing the cheekiest grin you could ever wear.

"No wonder you were so crazy about it. Having somebody wrapped around your finger... feels awesome!"

Still the same bored look.

"giving me the cold shoulder now? I'm just using simple logic to prove my point-which is also what you used to do. I'm saying that from this moment, you're totally and completely dependant on me"

Fyodor tilts his head to the side and gives you a weird look, tempting you to imitate his gesture. A strong feeling is causing you to brag about the current situation and tease him, and you're willingly giving into it.

"Alright. Since I'm the one in charge now, I'm setting a few ground rules. No more acting all workaholicly and staying up until late. No more skipping meals, mister. Im gonna feed you with my special milk, hehehe~ Also, I've got some confessions to make"

It's probably a bad decision to bring these up right now, but you're too captured in the heat of the moment to realize that.

"Ok. I've been trying to tell you this for quite a while. The truth is... I'm pregnant"

The unfazed look is still on.

"Yeah, that was a lie. The real truth is... I was the one who ate all your snacks"

Still no change in his expression.

"...But I assume you already know that. Ugh, keeping secrets from you is such a pain... could you not figure me out for just once?"

Fyodor doesn't seem very eager to respond. He's already very annoyed with how things have turned out and is not really in the mood to joke around. You come to that conclusion when he touches your forearm with his chubby little hand.

"You're gonna activate your ability and kill me, aren't you?"

↳Nikolai Gogol

"Quiz time!!"

Your baby boyfriend whines in annoyance.

"Who's gonna get paid one in his own coin and suffer like I did every time he teased me?"

You flash him a cocky smirk, matched with the way you're looking at him from above as he's lying on the bed. You're standing next to the bed, happier than you could ever be, planning all the steps of your revenge as you trash talk to him.

"That's right. It's no one but youuuuu! Hahahahaha!!"

Nikolai wants to prove to you that he's still strong and nobody can defeat him, but he realizes there's noway he can imply that other by a sulky attitude, which he reluctantly suffices to.

You hold his favorite snack in front of him and shake it, smiling wildly. "Come on darling! Have some! Eh? What are you waiting for? Awwwww! You can't? Then I'll help myself!"

You shoved the entire thing in your mouth and laughed hysterically.

"Nom nom* tastes nom* heavenly! No wonder you never let me have a bite!"

Nikolai is starting to feel a little guilty now. He didn't know that his teasings have made you a spiteful whore.

"You hate babies so much, and now you are one! That's the scariest punishment itself! Can you feel the power of karma? It's a bitch, ain't it? Well, now that you can't talk anymore, I have something to say to you!"

You bend over until there's a small gap between you, pointing at his tiny figure. The bullying attitude is all gone and instead, there's soft glare lying in your eyes.

"I want one of these. Give me one when you get back, Kolya"

You're wrong. This is the scariest punishment.

↳Saigiku Jouno

"Thank you for the meal!"

Jouno is upset. There are many unfortunate things happening for him at the moment. He doesn't like to be a baby. He doesn't want to be unable to do anything other than crying, pooping, eating and sleeping. More importantly, he doesn't want to feel your teeth on his cheeks.

"Mhm, so soft and squishy!" You smile sweetly and look at his puffy cheeks, stained with your bite marks in crimson. "I could just eat you up now, 'giku. You taste so sweet!"

Anyone who hears this would be happy and blush slightly, but Jouno wasn't one of them, as he tilts his head and looks away, having the most adorable pout on his lips.

Grumpy as always.

"C'mon now, it's not that bad! Look on the bright side! Everyone will have to do everything for you since you can't do it yourself"

Jouno tilts his head back, his eyebrows jumped in surprise.

"Right, that wasn't a really good example of the bright side"

Sighing, you lay next to him on the matress, hands traveling through his white locks. His muscles relax a little bit as he gives into your warmth, nuzzling his head in your chest. You hum with a soft beam, inhaling his baby scent.

"You smell very nicely too, 'giku. Don't be too depressed about this. It's not the end of the world. We'll find a way to turn you back eventually. Plus..."

You lightly pat his back, pressing a lingering kiss on his forehead. "I can have you all to myself, since you can't go on any missions and leave me here all alone anymore"

Yeah, Jouno thinks, maybe it's not that awful after all.

↳Ranpo Adogawa

"Ouch! Why you- let go of my hair you aggressive baby!"

Ranpo cries a whine out and pulls your hair harder, leading you to scream back even louder.

"Stop it! What is wrong with you? I dont care how upset you are, I'm not gonna give you any sweets- ow ow ow!! Ranpo- I said let go of my fucking hair you dumbass!"

Your angry shout startles the dark haired baby. It's not just that he's little, you'd never talked like this to him before. Slowly loosening his grip on your hair, he starts sobbing quietly, covering his face with his chubby hands. This breaks your heart.

"Nooo... I'm sorry sweetie! Mommy- Aunty- god I dont even know what I am to you anymore! Whatever- I'm sorry ok? But you can't eat sweets baby boy, you're smart enough to know that, right?"

Smart enough to know that?? Huh!

Ranpo sees right through your little plan. He knows all these little tricks inside out- hell he was the one who taught you all of them; but what pisses him off is how it's working on him even though he knows your true intention.

The smirk you've been holding back shamelessly appears on your face when he wears a serious expression, nodding like someone who's given an important task and is determined to do it carefully and correctly, then points at your boobs.

Your smile instantly fades away.

"Shit. I'm not doing that"

↳Chuuya Nakahara

"Your struggle is hilarious to me"

Baby Chuuya watched you with a threatening glare. He was clearly unhappy about this situation, and you enjoying his frustration was not going to help him at all.

"I know you really need it right now, but honestly, I don't think your little tummy can digest that"

Merely ignoring you, he tried to open the bottle of wine he was struggling to hold with his chubby feet; but every time he pulled, the bottle would slip out of his not so tight grasp. He couldn't use his ability on it, since the bottle would sink into his little body. He couldn't even roll over on the bed, and his so called nanny was laughing instead of helping him.

Forget about all the things he'd been through. This was the true misery.

"Alright. Give me the bottle"

He didn't seem to agree, because he immediately hugged the bottle with all the strength he had, like it was his dearest thing. Your serious expression showed that you weren't going to give up either.

"You give me that bottle mister or you won't get extra milk tonight"

Reluctantly, he opened his arms and you snatched the bottle, putting it somewhere high. When you turned around, you saw him sulking.

"Don't be like that baby, you know you can't drink that right now. I thought you were a reasonable person hmm?"

The cute pout resting on his lips made you giggle and bend down to kiss his cheek. He was still pretty upset, so he looked away from you. Unfortunately, he couldn't do anything about the little blush on his face.

You carefully held him up and looked at his tiny figure. His long hair was gone and instead, there were short ginger locks on his head. His bluebell eyes however, hadn't changed one bit, still as gorgeous as ever.

You smiled at him. "You want me to throw you up?"

He looked oblivious. He probably knew what you were talking about, but hadn't figured out whether you were serious or not.

Shaking your head to the side, you tightened your grip on his waist before throwing him up in the air, and catching him before he fell on the ground. He got so excited that he started laughing, letting out adorable baby noises.

"Aww, you like that huh? want me to do it again?"

He blinked.

"Ok! Three, two, one! Whoa!"

Chuuya had jumped higher than this before, but not once did he feel the thrill he was experiencing now. He was having the time of his life, flying in the air with no effort. Every time you threw him up, his mouth got opened wider, wider, and wider,

until vomit came out of it, landing on your chest.

There weren't any throwing and catching after that, since you were too busy looking at the vomit, shocked. But it wasn't him vomiting that caught you off guard, it was the vomit. It wasn't milk, it was wine.

"Ok, we need to talk about your drinking problem when you turn back to an adult"

All rights reserved © 2023 AshTheMadWriter. Please do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works on any platform.

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[skyfallscotland]

Professor Riorson (Remi's Version)

"Remi for once can you please—" "Be an attentive student?" I widen my eyes. "Pay attention in class?" I just my lower lip out. "Of course!" My lips curve up. "I'm so excited to have a new teacher, Vi."

Hello! After what we shall henceforth refer to as the Onyx Storm Incident, I did not know if I would ever write for this fandom again (yes, that was three days ago, I know, shut up).

Anyway, I figured I should try and push through my reservations early instead of letting my disappointment linger, so I set out to write a little palette cleanser. As usual I tried to write smut and ended up with four thousand words of feelings first 🤦🏼‍♀️

This is set in some sort of alternate (completely unbelievable) universe where Xaden never gave in to Remi's flirting when she was a first-year at Basgiath (oh and he's not a venin) everything else is irrelevant, just go with it.

It's also basically straight up erotica, so explicit content! Not for minors! Minors DNI or whatever the fuck they say over here (I really should be posting all these on AO3, but that's for another day).

Finally, I'm sorry to all the teachers out there, I hate this kink too but it's minimally emphasised (they're still them) and it was what my girl Remi deserved—why should Violet get Professor Riorson and not her, the Queen of Tyrrendor, the Angel of Death? So here we are.

PS. Justice for chairs! Hopefully you can all visualise what's going on here 😂🪑

Professor Riorson (Remi's Version)

Fraternisation between cadets and those serving in higher chains of command, including the aggregate leadership cadré at Basgiath War College, is strictly forbidden. —Article Eight, Section One, The Dragon Rider’s Codex

I tap my foot against the floor, levitating my pen above my hand almost subconsciously as Professor Devera informs the rest of the cadets just how fucked we actually are. "Welcome to the new face of battle, where we are not only outnumbered in the sky but now equally matched on the field in terms of the skill of our opponents."

Equally matched? We're not equally matched, we're absolutely fucked. It's hard to find the energy to care anymore, knowing what awaits us. Maybe if I had a signet like Violet's, I would be in with half a chance at survival, but mending? Yeah. I'm screwed.

Heads drop in the rows ahead of us, like everyone else is reaching the same conclusion.

"With that in mind, the nature of challenges will change under the supervision of Professor Emetterio to include wielding in order to better prepare you for actual combat. Death is no longer an acceptable outcome when you face your classmates. The days of settling your scores on the mat are over. We need each and every one of you to survive to graduation.”

I scoff aloud, drawing more than one person's attention. Death should never have been acceptable. The military, the system gains nothing from it, it's just a senseless waste of life.

“Easy to say when you’re not facing Sorrengail,” Caroline Ashton calls out.

My lips tilt up. I hope she ends up facing my sister.

“We aren’t going to throw you to the wolves,” Devera tells her. “The third class you’ll be adding will be a hands-on approach to prepare you for signet-against-signet combat. You’ll have a rotating roster of professors to benefit from all signet types, and the Eastern Wing has temporarily loaned us their most powerful rider to start your instruction.”

Violet stiffens beside me and I frown, glancing over at her. The Eastern Wing…wouldn't that mean…

“And on that note.” Devera gestures to the door at the back of the room, and slowly, I turn. “Look who just arrived—everyone, welcome our newest member of your leadership team. Professor Riorson.”

My heart skips a beat and my lips begin to curve into the most self-satisfied smirk I've worn in a while. This is going to be fun.

Friday comes far too slowly for my liking, but finally it's our turn to head out to the Infantry Quadrant's outdoor amphitheatre. There's a skip in my step as we descend the stairs and Violet groans, eyeing me with disapproval.

"Remi for once can you please—"

"Be an attentive student?" I widen my eyes. "Pay attention in class?" I just my lower lip out. "Of course!" My lips curve up. "I'm so excited to have a new teacher, Vi."

Ridoc snorts, bumping me with his hip as he passes.

I glance up from my feet, taking in the man standing dead centre in the base of the amphitheatre, his impatience clear. His arms are crossed over his chest and his usual dark stare is ever-present as he watches us, waiting.

"This is incredible." Sloane is saying ahead of us, commenting on the weather and the temperature inside the amphitheatre's wards. It is warm in here and as Professor Riorson's eyes dart up to lock with mine, I shrug my arms out of my flight jacket. My pulse jumps at his continued attention and slowly I shake the snow from my braid.

"You're right, Sloane." I smile, running my hand over my hair. "It's so warm in here." I reach for the bottom of my shirt and draw that up too, pulling it over my head to leave me in just my leather pants and armoured corset.

"Remi!" Violet hisses and I smile innocently.

"What?" I lift a brow. "You don't want me to pass out, do you Vi?" She grumbles something about knocking me out, which I promptly ignore, dropping my things in the first row of stone seats beside our classmates.

If there's one thing my sister has always hated, it's my infatuation with Xaden Riorson. I suppose that's fair, given she shares a mind with him at times, but it does nothing to discourage me. If I see something I want, I go after it and I've wanted Xaden Riorson ever since I first laid eyes on him all those years ago at parapet.

Too bad he doesn't want me just as badly.

“Welcome to your first session of Signet Sparring, in what I like to call the pit.” He announces as we reach the base of the steps.

"Ominous." I mutter.

“Those who can wield, keep your feet on the rock but—and I cannot stress this enough—off the mat. Those who cannot, take a seat in the first row.” He gestures to the terraced stone behind us.

I assume it has something to do with the warding, so when Aaric and Lynx move to take a seat in the rows behind, I stand to follow.

"Remi Sorrengail!" Riorson calls. "I know you can wield."

I pause, turning slightly to arch a brow. "My signet is neither offensive nor defensive, sir." The slightest, most minuscule twitch jolts his shoulders at the word and I show him my teeth. "You wouldn't want me to get hurt, would you?"

An ember of desire flickers to life in my gut and I bite my lip, letting my eyes drag over him slowly from head to toe. The tight-fitting sparring gear is reminiscent of what he always wore in the quadrant when he was our wingleader, but the swords strapped across his back…they really add to it. It's doing something for me. A lot for me.

"I'll make sure you don't get hurt, Cadet Sorrengail." He reassures. "Take a seat. Now."

I hold his gaze for a moment, wishing he could read my mind and understand exactly what that tone is doing for me. For a second his eyes flare and then it's gone; his stony, unaffected mask falling back into place as he gestures to the first row where my sister waits.

"Whatever you say, sir." I simper, flopping down onto the stone.

"Sickening." Imogen mutters, rolling her eyes from my other side, and I grin. She's never liked my obsession with him either.

First wing begin to filter in, taking their places on the adjacent seating and Riorson's eyes dart left, then right. “Let’s go. It shouldn’t be this hard to sort yourselves out."

"You can sort me out—" All the breath rushes out of me in a wheeze as Imogen's elbow plants itself in my gut. "Ok." I cough, "understood." Violet stifles a laugh.

“You done gossiping among yourselves?” Riorson eyes First Wing with what I'd classify as menace.

“We were just saying that we’re not sure someone who graduated less than a year ago makes the best teacher.” Loran Yashil folds his arms.

I laugh aloud, drawing the attention of everyone in the amphitheatre. "Because you've been doing so well with Carr." I comment. "How many dark wielders do you think he's fought? Hiding back here behind the wards like a coward?"

"Remi!" Violet groans, though the chastisement holds no sting—I know she agrees with me.

What follows is perhaps the hottest display of power and dominance I've seen in a long while. He barely lifts a finger taking the third-year down and then proceeds to do it all over again…and again, and again until there's no one left but my sister and I.

"Sorrengail, you're up!"

Violet and I glance at each other and she lifts a brow. I wiggle mine in return. Quickly, we both leap to our feet and stride onto the mat.

"I meant—"

"You should have specified then." I cut him off, drawing my daggers from my corset.

"I didn't speak in plural." He all but rolls his eyes.

"Well that's just cheating, you can't both—"

I throw my blade to the side, never once breaking eye contact with Riorson. "Shut up, Caroline!" I call. Who asked her anyway?

Drawing another dagger to replace the one I'd thrown, I let my hips sway as I stride down the centre of the mat, coming to a stop directly in front of him. "If you're too afraid to fight us both, just say Professor." I taunt. "I don't mind if you want to have our session one on one."

He sucks in a deep breath through his nose, a muscle in his jaw feathering slightly. "You're infuriating." He murmurs.

"I think you like it." I whisper, tongue darting out to wet my lips, and the ground rumbles. Lightning strikes overhead and he drags his eyes up from my lips, locking gazes with me as shadows rush out, blacking out the area entirely.

"Fuck." I mutter, taking a step back, entirely blind. I take another and another until I run clear into a hard chest and an arm brackets my middle from behind.

"What was the point of this, Sorrengail?" He asks. "If I were venin, you'd be dead right now."

"You're not venin." I counter breathlessly. "If you were, the distraction wouldn't have worked."

"The—"

Boom.

Lightning strikes mere centimetres to his left, shaking the ground, lighting up the arena. I tear myself free from his hold, ignoring the shadows that chase me, caressing my hair, my cheek—and grin slyly. "We win." I smirk as sunlight filters back through. "You'd be dead if she wanted you dead."

He frowns, like the idea of it is ludicrous. "You'd be dead. You would have died before me."

I shrug my shoulders. "And she'd be alive." I tilt my head. "Like I said. We win."

With that I turn and walk away.

"You really need to give it a rest." Violet sighs as she slings her pack over her shoulders, prepared to head down to Chantara with the others. "Remi, I'm…worried about you."

I huff, folding my arms over my chest. "Worried?"

"Worried." She confirms. "It's not healthy to go chasing after someone like this. He's not capable of loving you. There are plenty of people who—"

"Who said anything about love?" I interrupt. "I never said I wanted him to love me."

Violet looks at the ceiling like she's praying to Amari for patience. "You're you." She finally says softly, reaching out to take my hand. "I know you. You want love—and I know him—he's not capable of it."

I know she doesn't mean it critically, she's been orbiting him for quite some time now, her dragon being mated to his and all. So she knows him, better than I probably ever will as a result and she's probably right, but…

"Sometimes he looks at me and I think, just for a second…" I swallow hard.

Violet's expression softens. "I know, I see it too."

My face crumples. "Then why—"

"Because it doesn't mean he can, Rem." She squeezes my hand. "You've been chasing after him since the day you met and him liking you, doesn't mean he'll risk his heart and that's what he'd have to do—we're at war." My sister frowns. "It's all or nothing."

All or nothing.

"Fine." My voice cracks as I speak. "Fine. I get it."

My twin chews on her lip. "So you'll come to Chantara?" She whispers softly.

"No." I shake my head. "I'm going to see him, one last time." Violet's face falls. "I can do all or nothing," I whisper quietly, "but I need a chance to convince him it should be all."

"You've had—"

"No." I shake my head, my heart clenching in my chest. "I've joked and flirted and watched him spend hours of his time dragging you around, but I never made it clear…"

My sister breathes in deep, her shoulders rising like she's steadying herself. "He knows." She whispers, the words leaving her in a rush. "He knows, Remi."

I sit with that for a moment and then slowly, I nod. "Ok." I accept, my throat tightening.

"Ok?"

"Sure." I turn around, taking a seat on the edge of my bed. "I think I'll stay here anyway." I try and force a smile, but I'm sure it comes out as more of a grimace. "You go, Vi. Have fun with the others."

Her eyes are worried, but a lifetime of arguments and tears has told her when to push and when to leave well enough alone, so she leaves well enough alone. It takes a moment to collect myself, to pick the pieces of my heart up off the ground and place them back where they're meant to be, but when that's done and I've managed to still the shaking of my hands, I stand from the bed and head for the door.

If he doesn't want me that's fine, but he can tell me himself, one final time.

All or nothing.

I throw on my jacket and make my way down the hall, heading toward the school's academic wing. Pretty much everyone is either training or enjoying some recreational time, so I don't pass many people on the way there and when I raise my hand to knock, the hall is empty.

The door swings open with the help of lesser magic and I slip inside, not bothering to announce myself—the presence of a shadow curling up around my ankle tells me he knew exactly who was at his door before he ever opened it.

"Professor Riorson." I lift my eyes to his and attempt to shore up my resolve.

"Cadet Sorrengail." He leans back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. "To what do I owe this visit?"

My heart pounds against my rib cage and my pulse flutters like a caged bird. There's a desk between us and metres of clean air, but it may as well be nothing. The atmosphere in the room is charged and I absently wonder if Vi warned him I might be coming.

"I…"

He waits, lifting a brow. "Yes?"

"I'm failing!" I blurt, suddenly losing my nerve. "I'm going to fail your class and I don't know how to…" His eyes hold mine, gold-flecked onyx practically smouldering.

"Try again." He instructs, lowering his hands to the armrests on his chair. He splays his knees casually, leaning back while his eyes seem to stare right through me.

"I'm sorry?"

His lips tilt up, just slightly. "That's not what you came here for." He shakes his head. "Try again and don't lie this time."

My mouth runs dry. Suddenly every conviction I had, every ounce of bravado flees my body and I want to be anywhere but here because I know…this is about to hurt. Having your heart ripped out always does.

"I…came to ask for an extra credit assignment?" I try again, clinging to the minuscule hope he might believe me. It's nothing Vi hasn't done before. Well, before Basgiath, but still.

Riorson smirks. "And your suggestion?"

I frown.

"You're the professor. Don't you decide…?"

The hair on my neck stands on end and I shiver as something brushes the end of my braid. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He murmurs and my eyes blow wide.

"Uh…" His lips tilt.

"Not that it matters, you're lying again."

My mouth falls open. "Ok, you can't possibly know that!" I hiss. "You're not an inntinnsic, you have no idea what I'm thinking!"

"I know you." He counters. "You expect me to believe you, Remi Sorrengail, came here for an extra credit assignment?" He shakes his head.

"You don't know me!" I frown. "I've barely even seen you since you graduated." And not for lack of trying. I've personally been deployed up and down the Eastern Wing, but every time we've been at the same outpost he's miraculously busy. Violet however, sees him all the time. A fact I've always hated.

"Why are you here, Remi?" He tries again, looking more amused by the second and I can just tell—he knows. It shouldn't be a surprise to me. I've never made my interest a secret, I'm not ashamed of it, but that doesn't lessen the disappointment that even after all this time he'll refuse to give me the time of day when I know he's attracted to me too.

I lock my jaw and scowl. "Is there an answer you'll believe?" I finally utter, shame and frustration colouring my cheeks.

"Not extra credit."

I guess the all or nothing is going to be nothing then. How disappointing. I turn on my heel, refusing to waste a second more of my time on someone who clearly doesn't appreciate me.

"Remi." He calls sternly, his shadows tugging on my braid, and when the door won't open I resist the urge to stomp my foot like a sullen teenager—I want out.

My throat tightens. "Yes, sir?" I grit my teeth, glancing over my shoulder and his expression shifts like he's only now recognising the finality in the air. No more flirting, no more games, no more anything.

He closes his eyes and I recognise the minute twitches of his brow—he's talking to his dragon. I yank on the doorknob again but it refuses to turn, keeping me trapped in a mess of my own making.

When he stands from his chair and rounds the desk, my heart begins to flutter with panic.

"Sit down." He orders and I blink.

"No."

I'd have said it anyway, just to be contrary, but this time I mean it. I don't want to be here anymore.

"Sit. Down." His voice lowers, taking on a frustrated, threatening tone and my lip peels back from my teeth.

"No."

Before I can reach for a blade to defend myself with, his arms are around my waist and he's lifting me into the air, carting me back toward the desk like a sack of grain. He kicks the chair before it out of the way with his foot and deposits me on the desk's surface, sending papers scattering.

When I lash out with my foot, aiming to kick him somewhere painful, he catches my ankle between thick, powerful thighs. "Stop." He warns, his tone glacial. "Look at me."

Fuck you. I think, and when I glance up there's a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Sor—Remi." He corrects, leaning in. He plants large, calloused hands on my knees, keeping my thighs apart as he steps between them, ensuring I can no longer lash out at him with my boot. As his fingers curl around my knees, he leans in close enough for our jaws to brush, and I suck in a sharp breath.

"Sir?" My voice shakes and he all but groans.

He lifts a hand, tracing over my cheekbone with his thumb and my heart races. Each brush of his fingers, the feel of his stubble against my jaw, all of it—it sets my soul alight.

"Everything about this is inadvisable." He whispers, his voice gruff. "You are inadvisable."

I swallow hard. "So you've said." Never going to happen, he'd told me more than once while studying here.

"And yet…"

My muscles bunch, shoulders tensing. "…and yet?" I challenge, finally finding my voice.

He takes one breath and then another, and forces me to mourn the loss of his warmth as he steps away. "Article eight, section one—"

"You are not quoting the Codex at me!" I spit, eyes narrowing into a lethal glare as he takes another step. "You? Seriously?" Fury engulfs me, anger burning my chest with tendrils of white-hot rage. "You're a gods damned separatist, even now, Duke Riorson," I sneer, "and you're wedging the Codex between us?"

Of all things, of every excuse—

"You could be—"

"I'm exempt!" I throw my hands up, lashing out with my foot once more and growling with frustration as he halts it with his shadows. "Article eight, section one of the Dragon Rider's Codex states that calling cadets into active service in times of war may only be authorised by—"

"The Commanding General of Basgiath. I'm aware." He glares.

"So I'm no longer a cadet and I haven't been since July when they sent me to the front to mend." I point out.

"That's a technicality—"

"Oh so you're allowed to call technicalities and I'm not? Got it." I roll my eyes. "Just admit you don't want to fuck me professor and let's move on."

"In-ad-visable!" He yells, a deadly glare on his face and I jolt, rearing back a little. "If you were anyone else I'd have—" He seals his lips together and spins, facing the wall as he jerks a hand through his hair, gripping the dark strands roughly. I watch wide-eyed as his shoulders rise and fall, like he's short of breath.

"You'd what?" I whisper.

I don't dare move, frozen in place on the desk as I watch him, waiting with bated breath to see if he'll finally, finally tell me why. Why he refuses to see me as anything but Lilith Sorrengail's daughter, Brennan's little sister, Violet's twin. See ME, I want to scream at him. I deserve that.

When he turns, his eyes are dark and incensed. "If you were anyone else, I'd have bent you over that desk already and taught you a lesson."

My heart flies into my throat. "What?" It's barely more than a whisper leaving my lips.

He stalks back across the room, clearing the few feet he'd put between us, and slides his hand beneath my chin, long fingers curling around the back of my jaw to pull me in, tilting my face up to meet his. "You heard me."

Heat flushes my cheeks. "Wh…why not me?" I ask and embarrassingly enough, my voice breaks. "Why anyone but me? I'm—"

"Soft." His thumb drifts, brushing gently over my lips as he cups my jaw. "You have a soft heart, Remi Sorrengail, and I'm not the kind of man who can care for it."

I scoff, baring my teeth at him. "I'm a rider, same as you." I glare. "They don't call me the Angel of Death because I'm soft."

His hand slips, running back over my hair and down my loose braid. "Well they got the first part right." He murmurs, closing his eyes. I watch, taut as a bowstring as he takes one breath, then another. "Fuck." He mutters, face twisting up like he's in physical pain.

"Xaden?" I whisper, voice shaking.

"You have terrible timing." His hand tightens on my braid and then he's pulling, tugging me forward as he grasps my chin and seals his mouth over mine. My heart leaps into my throat and my chest tightens as he devours me, the hand on my hair sliding down to rest between my shoulder blades. His fingers splay as he pulls me in, holding me close.

His teeth nip at my lower lip and I gasp, tilting my head in submission as he slips his tongue into my mouth. Oh gods. I whimper, pressing myself further into his grasp as he kisses me thoroughly. A small sound of pleasure escapes my throat and he diverts his attention, nipping gently at my jawline.

His mouth moves right to the sensitive spot behind my ear, like he knows exactly where to nip, where to suck, where to pleasure to have me liquefy. His lips are warm against the shell of my ear as he whispers, "you choose now to take no for an answer?"

He worries the skin beneath it with his teeth and I moan, arching into him. "Y-ou didn't want me." I pant. "You've never—you—"

"I always want you." He growls. "You've been taunting me for years, angel." I gasp at the endearment, tilting my head to give him more access as he works his way down the column of my throat. "It's not a matter of want."

My fingers tighten on the timber of the desk behind me and I suddenly realise I no longer have to refrain from touching. Immediately I reach for him, slipping my hands beneath the leather of his flight jacket, running them up his sides to hold him to me.

"Then what?" I whisper, lifting a hand to rake through his hair, scratching my fingernails against his scalp as he sucks a mark into my throat. I want to touch him everywhere. "Xaden, please." I whimper, bringing my legs up to try and drag him closer. I need to wrap my thighs around him.

He groans, panting into my neck. "We should not be doing this." But he doesn't stop.

I gasp, arching upward so my chest brushes his as his fingers skate beneath the line of my corset. "You've yet to give me a good reason." I say, desire coiling low in my abdomen.

"I'm your teacher." He breathes, pulse skipping as I lock my ankles behind his lower back.

"And I'll be such a good girl for you."

Just like that, his control snaps. "Fuck, Remi." He pulls me forward forcefully, dipping his head to claim my lips once more. The kiss is deep and desperate, and I moan loudly into his mouth.

"So. Fucking. Tempting." His fingers tighten in my hair, pulling slightly on the silver-tipped strands and I moan again, heart pounding as my skin gets hotter and hotter.

He kisses like a man possessed, holding me to him like he can't get enough and when we finally part for air again, it's all I can do to keep from begging. I grasp his hand, dragging it from where it rests on the side of my neck, down over my chest, past my stomach and to the button on my leathers.

He barely hesitates, slipping his hand beneath my waistband. I toss my head back, a small gasp leaving my lips as he slides his fingers over my clit and and back up again. "Gods," I whimper, "please."

"Please, what?" He whispers, slowly drawing his fingers through my arousal.

"Please, sir?" I gasp, leaning back to meet gold-flecked onyx. He chuckles.

"I meant what do you expect me to do with you, angel?" His thumb slowly circles my clit in soft, barely-there movements, "but the respect is a nice touch."

I swallow hard, a red flush spreading down my neck, but I have him right in front of me and I refuse to falter now. "Please make me come." I whisper and he groans, hips rocking forward reflexively. "I'll be good for you, I promise."

His eyes are so dark they're almost entirely black despite the light in his office, and he pushes my legs from his hips, spreading my knees further apart as he pulls me to the edge of the desk.

"These need to come off. Now." His hands are already moving, undoing the buttons and sliding my pants down over my hips, taking my underwear with them. I lever myself up on my hands as he drags them down and drops to his knees before me, fingers working on the laces of my boots.

He pulls them off one by one and dumps them on the floor, and when my pants are finally off and I'm half-naked on his desk, he tips his head back and stares. I flush deeper as he remains kneeling on the floor, slipping his hands up to cup my knees.

He rests his head on the inside of my thigh for a moment, his hair brushing my skin, and parts my legs further. Anxiety flares and I glance up at the door uncertainly, suddenly realising where we are.

"Is that door locked?" My heart skips a beat.

"Does it make you wet?" He murmurs, "the idea of being caught?"

I swallow hard. "No."

My heart flutters against my rib cage and his eyes soften, lips pressing gently to my skin. "It's locked, angel. No one's getting in." He places another careful kiss on my inner thigh. "No one can hear us. It's just you and me."

Something inside me settles and I relax enough to reach out, threading my fingers through his hair. "Ok." I murmur, admiring the silky strands as he moves closer, drawing in a sharp breath as he wraps strong arms around my legs and pulls.

"Xa-Xaden." I whimper as he lowers his mouth to my heat, parting his lips.

"What happened to sir?" He lifts a brow, glancing up at me, and my stomach swoops.

"Sir," I whisper, my voice shaking.

I watch as his mouth curves up in a smirk. "Better." He agrees, and lowers it to my clit.

"Oh, gods." I moan aloud as he seals his lips around it, wasting no time with foreplay. He flattens his tongue and I can't help but rock my hips, both my hands flying into his hair.

My back arches as he scrapes his teeth over me and I quickly slam one hand down behind me to keep from losing my balance, sending pens scattering everywhere.

"Look at you, making a mess." He murmurs between languid strokes of his tongue.

My chest heaves and I grip his hair tighter, trying to still the movement of my hips. "I'll make—a mess—of you." I pant, the last word pitched higher as he closes his mouth around me and sucks.

"Promises, promises." He murmurs as he drags his fingers along my inner thigh teasingly. "Are you going to come on my face, angel?" He asks, barely looking up as he slips a finger inside me.

I moan, arching as my heart pounds, desire coiling low and tight in my gut as I clench around his finger. "I—" I can't get a word out, entirely breathless as he sits back on his heels and waits, lips shining with the evidence of my arousal.

"Look at you." He whispers, lifting his thumb to swirl it around my clit. "So wet for me already."

"Yes," I breathe, curling my fingers tighter in his hair. "Always for you."

He drags his finger out and presses it back in again, eyes never leaving his hand. I squirm in place, wanting—needing—more. He thumbs at my clit almost playfully, finally looking up to watch my reaction and I whimper, screwing my own eyes shut.

"Can you take another for me?" He asks, moving his finger teasingly.

"I can take all of you." I whine, twisting with impatience. "I want your cock, please Xaden?" He lifts a brow and I already know exactly what he's going to say.

"Ask me nicely."

There it is. I swallow hard. "Please, sir?" I soften my voice, ignoring the embarrassment that flares in my chest. I'll beg if it gets me there. "I want to come on your cock."

"You will." He responds, stroking my inner wall with his finger. "Just not yet. Be a good girl and let me have my fun."

I manage to refrain from more than a single disgruntled whimper as he ignores my plea, starting circles with his thumb again. When he slides a second finger home beside the first and curls them up, I cry out, tugging on his hair to bring him close.

"Please, your mouth."

He flattens his tongue obediently and I gasp and whimper as he begins moving it over my clit in time with his fingers. He laps at me as he slides them in and out, curling them up to press against a spot that almost sends me over the edge.

"There! There, please!"

I decide I hate the desk. It's hard and uncomfortable, and it provides poor leverage, keeping me from rolling my hips or fucking myself against his face.

He swirls his tongue and presses his fingers up simultaneously, and the action takes me entirely by surprise, tossing me unceremoniously over the edge. "Xaden!" I cry out, jerking against him as I shatter, coming apart on his tongue.

His head is squeezed tightly between my thighs as I shudder, hips jerking, and he moans against me, sending my heart rate soaring as the vibration of it rumbles through my clit. I gasp, clenching my cunt down around his fingers.

I don't know where to look, what to hold onto as my pleasure rolls over me in waves. Sweat slicks my skin and when he finally pulls away, licking his lips in self-satisfaction, his eyes gleam. "I can't wait to get my cock in you."

I moan, tightening around the fingers still inside me. "You could have already been in me." I pant, whimpering as he finally rises to his feet, showing no signs of the difficulty I know I'd be experiencing if I were on my knees that long.

He slips his fingers free and brings them to his lips, holding my gaze as he licks them clean. My stomach swoops like I've done an aerial dive and my lips part, surprise and arousal no doubt written all over my face. Gods.

"Patience, cadet." He lectures, grasping my chin roughly. "You've been so good," he croons, leaning in to kiss me. "You don't want to ruin that now, do you?" When he slips his tongue past my lips, I can taste myself on him and I moan into his mouth, skin heating beyond comprehension. It feels like when I wield—all my power building up inside me, only now it's pleasure; building and building again until I'm ready to explode.

"We're going back to that?" I pant as we part. "You don't like your name on my lips?"

"I like you obedient." He fires back, his hand gripping the back of my neck. "You've spent years taunting me, having your fun at my expense. I think I'm owed some recompense."

I almost roll my eyes. Almost.

"You could have had me at any time." I whisper. "If you waited, that's on you." I tilt my head up, closing the gap between us myself for the first time as I kiss him sweetly. "Your room, mine, the sparring mats…" I murmur. "I've thought about us everywhere."

"And this…?" He asks, eyes heated. "What were you picturing when you came down here, all innocent, asking about extra credit?" His hands move to his own leathers and my heart skips a beat as he begins undoing buckles, removing his weaponry with quick, efficient movements.

"What were you picturing when you walked in here, Remi, and saw me sitting behind my desk?" He moves onto the button at his waistband, popping it open. I watch, breath hitching as he frees his cock, pushing his pants down slightly as he begins to stroke. "Was this what you had in mind?"

A small sound escapes me, more of a squeak than anything else, and I suddenly find myself at a loss for words. He's…sizeable. He grasps the front of my corset, dragging me up off the desk, levering me to my feet. I tilt my head back to look at him, but our eyes only meet for a second before he's pushing, turning me around and down.

I catch myself on my hands, palms flat on the desk, fingers splayed wide and gasp as he presses himself in behind me, a hand grasping my braid. He leans down, mouth warm against my ear and says, "be a good girl and spread your legs."

I obey on reflex, but I'm certain my skin is so red it looks like I've reached burnout. "Xa-Xaden…" My fingers tighten on the dark timber and I gasp as he presses down on my spine, forcing my back to bow, lifting my ass against him.

"You look so pretty like this." He murmurs in my ear and I jolt as he drags a finger up through my folds, adding a second to gently hold me open. I can feel his fingers on my skin, hear the stroke of his hand on his cock as he prepares himself, but all I can see is papers and tomes.

I gasp as the head of his cock presses against my entrance, heart fluttering wildly, and as he starts to slowly push inside, I panic. "Wait!" I call, reaching behind my back, searching for his hand. "Wait, wait, wait." I pant, anxiety thrashing in my chest as he freezes, holding completely still.

His hand closes over mine, fingers threading between my own and I squeeze tightly, trembling in place. "Not like this." I swallow hard, shaking my head. "Not—" Before I can finish speaking he has me on my feet, spun around and held against him, his cock pressing against my stomach as he spears his hand into my hair, guiding my eyes to his.

"Remi?" He asks seriously.

My lip shakes and a small, mortified sound escapes my throat. "I want to see you." I whisper. "The first time…I want to see you." I want to look into his eyes. I want to see the way his brows knit, the way his lips part in pleasure as he drives into me. I want him to see me and know it's me and no one else. I want all of him.

His gaze softens and he dips his head, kissing me softly, his movements slow and languid. It eases the pressure in my chest, the small part of me that thought speaking up might be a deal breaker, and when we part he reaches down and lifts me off my feet, carrying me in quick strides to the chair behind his desk.

"Tell me if you want to stop." He murmurs, pressing his lips to my cheek, my jaw, my throat.

My knees settle on either side of him and I hover in place for a moment, waiting for his eyes to return to mine once more. "I don't want to stop."

Slowly, I sink down on his cock, holding his gaze as I take inch after inch of him until I finally have to close my eyes, tipping my head back in rapture. "Gods, Xaden."

He exhales slowly and his voice is strained when he speaks again. "So tight, Remi." He murmurs, lips brushing my cheek. "So wet for me."

I moan, tipping my head into his neck as he jerks his hips up, pressing against all the right places. The stretch is just this side of too much and it's exquisite and entirely worth the wait. I reach around him, gripping the back of his chair as I lever myself up and drop back down again, squeezing my walls tight around his cock.

"Good girl," he praises, sliding his hands up my spine as he encourages me to move.

I blink my eyes open, kissing my way up his jaw, sucking a mark of ownership into his neck. I want everyone to know exactly what he's been up to in here—I want them to know he's taken. I lean back until I can see him properly—see every minuscule expression as I gyrate on his cock. "I've wanted this for so long." I gasp. "Wanted you."

He lifts a hand, brushing my hair from my eyes and the other palms my hip, encouraging me to move. "I know." He murmurs, shadows slipping free from his control. "I know everything, Remi. All your wants, your needs, everything." Wisps of black curl up around me, brushing my skin, disappearing beneath my clothes. "I'm just as fucking obsessed with you as you are with me." My stomach swoops.

"Are you—" I gasp, arching my spine as something cold brushes lightly against my clit. "Is—is that?" I can't even get the words out I'm so short of breath.

"Me." He whispers, thrusting harder. "All of me, all over you."

I groan, tipping my face back into his neck as I wrap my arms around his shoulders, holding on tight. I could interpret that very differently. "Do you want it harder, angel?" He murmurs, teeth nipping at my earlobe.

I nod furiously, panting as he snaps his hips up, pulling me down at the same time. "Please, Xade."

He sets a quick, unrelenting pace, slamming home inside me with the same desperation I feel, like he needs it—like he's a man starved. "You're so perfect, Rem." He praises, breath rattling out of him as his shadows circle my clit. They endless and determined just like him, slipping low beneath the neckline of my corset as he drives his cock into me over and over again.

"Are you going to come again for me?" He pants against my ear as I tighten around him. "Let me come inside you? Fill you up?"

"Yes, yes, yes—" The coil of pleasure building in my abdomen bursts and I cry out, holding on tight as fire floods my veins, nerve endings lighting up like a shooting star. "Xaden! Xaden—" I gasp and shudder, curling into him as he continues thrusting, chasing his own peak.

I'm so over-sensitised I can't help but whimper against his throat, my fingers tightening on his arms with every stroke. His thrusts grow less and less controlled as he hurtles toward the same cliff I'd just toppled over, and I clench down tight around him, sucking another mark into the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

"Fuck!" He curses, teeth lodging in my dragonscale armour as his hips give one final jerk and he spills inside me with a groan. His chest rises and falls rapidly beneath my cheek and I smile softly to myself, keeping my eyes down. "Gods." He rests his head on my shoulder, arms curling around me to hold me close, and I do the same to him, my heart swelling in my chest.

I lie my cheek on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as he presses a kiss to the back of my neck. His breathing begins to even out, pulse slowing but I hold onto him just as tightly still, keeping him close.

My knees are beginning to ache and the width of his hips isn't exactly comfortable for mine, but I don't dare move, knowing the second I do this will be over and I'll have to face reality again—awkward, uncertain reality.

I'm just as obsessed with you as you are with me, he'd said—but is he really? That seems unlikely.

"Remi." He murmurs, his arms falling from my sides, and I bite down hard on the inside of my lip, throat tightening. "Angel, we can't stay like this." He chuckles.

"Yes we can." I murmur petulantly into his neck, not loosening my grip an inch.

"I have a meeting in ten minutes." He replies, hand firm in the centre of my spine, "and while I'm happy to work with my cock inside you, I don't share."

A barely audible sound of surprise lodges in my throat. "Share?" I ask quietly, a tendril of hope curling in my chest.

He tugs gently on my braid, encouraging me to lean back so our eyes can meet. "You're mine, Remi, and I don't share my things with anyone." He says sternly.

That kind of possessive alpha bullshit should not fly with me. If it were anyone else, I'd probably punch them square in the nose for their insolence and tell them I'm not an object, but he's not anyone else and for him…

"Yes, sir." I whisper, cheeks flushing, and he groans, hips stuttering below me as his body makes a valiant attempt at an encore.

"Remi!" He chides and my lips curl up in a smirk, emboldened.

"Was that enough for extra credit, Professor Riorson? Am I passing your class?"

"Fuck." He mutters, mostly to himself. "If anyone finds out—"

"I'm happy to warm your cock while you work," I murmur, "if you still think I need extra instruction."

"Remi!" He groans, lifting me off him completely. "You're going to be the death of me." I guess he wasn't kidding about having a meeting to go to.

He sets me on my feet and I stare up at him innocently, chewing on my lower lip. "I feel so empty without you inside—"

"For fuck's sake!" He curses, sending a shadow to curl around my mouth. I go to speak further, to taunt him again, and find the dark mass blocks all sound—I can't so much as whisper in his direction for as long as he can wield. I pout, staring up at him with wide, wet eyes.

"How important is this meeting?" I sign, hands moving rapidly in the air. "I'll be lonely without your—" Shadows zip forward, swirling around my wrists to lock them tight together, binding my hands.

He finishes buttoning his pants and folds his arms over his chest, staring at my half-naked form in the middle of his office, completely unimpressed. "I suppose insecure Remi is gone then?" He asks, striding forward to cup my jaw with his hand.

That scores a direct hit and I guess he somehow knows it, because his fingers gentle as they tip my chin up. "Torment me in public and you won't like the punishment."

I'm absolutely certain I will.

Almost as if he hears my thoughts, his eyes narrow and he scowls. "I promise you won't, angel. I'll bring you to the edge over and over again and leave you there, bound and desperate while I get myself off—every day until you've learned your lesson."

I swallow hard.

"Thought so." He hums. "But if you're good, I'll help you come—on my face, on my hand, on my cock…over and over and over again." Onyx eyes glitter. "It's your choice, baby."

Baby. The word hits me like a punch in the gut and my chest tightens. "I can be good." I blurt the second his shadows disappear. "I promise."

"Good girl." The hand around my jaw curls up and he drags me in, dipping his head to place a soft, reverent kiss on my lips. "Go clean up and I'll see you tonight, Cadet Sorrengail."

I breathe in deep, a small smile touching my lips as I reach for my pants, hands shaking with relief. "Ok." His hand skates over my back as I finish dressing and he guides me toward the door to his office.

"And Rem?" He calls, halting me when my hand is on the doorknob. "That technicality is bullshit—it's not flying with anyone in leadership and you know it, so for fuck's sake keep this to yourself until this posting is over."

I bare my teeth in a grin, a joyful laugh bubbling past my lips. "Whatever you say, sir."

Who knew academia could be this satisfying?

[callsign-rogueone]

harvest day - l.m.

secret admirer!Liam x Luceran!reader. part of my Valentine’s Day celly! 💕 words: 932 🏷: reader is feminine and has longish hair (can be tied), but no pronouns used. I am once again making random stuff up about Navarrian cultures. featuring my farm-boy Sawyer headcanon lmao (Luceras doesn’t have one major city on the map in the book. It’s all farmland, and you cannot convince me otherwise.)

You nearly crush it under your boot in your hurry to get to class, stepping back at the last second to pick it up.

A tiny dragon carved from wood -- your dragon, complete with his horns and a tiny spiked tail. You run your fingers over the wood — it’s been sanded, perfectly smooth against your skin. The level of detail is incredible. This must have taken hours.

“You’re going to be late, humble one.”

Right. You tuck it into the pocket of your jacket, locking your door behind you and jogging down the hall. 

You make it just in time, apologizing your way down the row, stepping around people’s feet carefully until you’ve made it to your friends. You settle between Rhiannon and Sawyer, thanking them for saving you a seat. “Overslept,” you explain, digging in your bag for your notebook, which you had nearly forgotten to pack.

You remove your flight jacket, taking the tiny dragon from your pocket and setting it on the desk beside your pen.

“Whoa, sick! Who made that?” Sawyer asks.

“I don’t know. I just found it outside my door. It looks just like him, though. Even got the horns right.”

“It is a very good representation of me,” Cruith appraises. “Though I have never once been that small.”

“That's awesome. Maybe they’re like, a wood-wielder or something,” Ridoc suggests, leaning over to examine it.

“I’m pretty sure that signet doesn’t exist,” Rhiannon says dryly.

“If he can do all that with metal, then it's entirely possible someone could do it with wood,” Ridoc defends.

“That’s what she said,” Sawyer says quietly, trying not to laugh.

Ridoc grins. “I’m rubbing off on you, man.”

You snort. “Now that's what she said.”

“Focus,” Rhiannon scolds lightly, ever the responsible squad leader, her eyes not having left the chalkboard this whole time.

“Yes, mom,” the three of you chorus softly, turning your attention back to the professor. 

Violet looks like she has something to say, but she remains quiet.

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

“Mail call,” Rhiannon announces, distributing opened letters to each of you.

Your heart drops as soon as you start to read yours.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just didn’t realize the date. It’s Harvest Day on Wednesday. Last year I was just too busy trying to stay alive to think about it, but…”

Sawyer winces, understanding. “I wish I could be there too. I swear when I graduate, I’m gonna use all my leave every year to help them.”

“I’m so lost,” Ridoc says, looking between you.

You laugh, explaining. “Everyone spends the day — the week, really — helping their neighbors harvest their crops, and there’s always a feast at the end with what we’ve grown.”

“Gods, the food. My family doesn’t come from much, but that was always the one day a year I felt like we were rich,” Sawyer admits.

You sigh in agreement. “It’s gonna be so weird wearing black all day instead of fall colors.” 

“That is the most Luceran thing I’ve ever heard,” Ridoc says. “Sometimes I forget you guys are all farmers.”

“It’s only our single most important holiday,” you laugh. “And we’re not all farmers. Two of us are dragon riders.” 

Sawyer grins at you, putting a hand up for a high five. “Damn right we are.”

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

Everyone’s eyes widen at the silky orange ribbon tying your hair back. You beam, turning your head to show it off. “Courtesy of the wood-wielder. I have no idea where they got it.”

Your joy is short-lived.

“Precisely what is that, cadet?” Dain asks sharply, and your face falls. There’s only one thing he can be taking issue with, the only spot of color in the sea of black making up your formation.

“It’s a Luceran tradition,” someone says for you — but not Sawyer or any of your friends. “Today is Harvest Day.”

You turn toward the voice, seeing Liam behind you, his eyes locked with Dain’s as if he’s daring the wingleader to argue with him. How does he know about the holiday? Had he overheard your conversation with your squad earlier?

“I expect it to be gone tomorrow,” Dain concedes. “You’re all dismissed.”

You breathe a sigh of relief as everyone files out of the hall.

“Liam?” You ask softly, and he stops, turning toward you. “Thank you.”

Then you see the small block of wood in his hand, the rough shape of another dragon etched into it. “It was you,” you whisper, stunned.

He laughs. “What?”

You reach into your pocket, producing the carving of Cruith. “You made this, right? Were you the one who wrote those physics notes for me when I was in the infirmary, too?” 

He smiles. “Yeah. That was all me.”

Your heart flutters with hope. “Why?”

“Because I was too nervous to say it, but I really like you.”

You blink. Liam, the one who isn’t scared of anything, was nervous to talk to you? And he has a crush on you? You’ve always found him attractive, but you had never thought this a possibility.

“Say something,” Cruith prods, sounding amused.

You finally form words. “Do you want to go into town with me this weekend?”

He blushes, scratching the back of his neck. “I would really like that.”

“Hey, lovebirds, are you coming to breakfast, or what?” Ridoc calls. “Some of us are starving over here!”

You laugh, a sound Liam will never tire of. “Just a minute!” You yell back.

You touch your fingertips to the soft silk, looking up at him. “Thank you, Liam. It really means a lot to me.”

He smiles. “Of course, sweetheart.”

[pls-hold-me-im-justa-weeb]

Torn Apart pt. 3

So it's been a while and I went through a kinda depression phase, but I'M BACK with chapter 3 at least, and chapter 4 is in the works. I will set up a poll to see how y'all want it to end because I just can't decide.

TW's: Reader is kinda drugged but is funny, talk of pain, talk of the trauma and the fight with Zoro.

And yes, to the person who asked if I'd seen Violet Evergarden, I love it so much and her hands are what I'm mostly thinking of when writing <3

You sighed deeply and slowly, eyes still closed in partial slumber. You were waking up, groggy as all hell but still conscious. Your brows furrowed before you pried open your eyes into slits, before opening them further once you realized you were in a dimly lit room.

“There ya are” a voice said. You recognized it, and knew it was safe, but the man’s name escaped your grasp. You heard various beeping in the background, and you felt like you were dreaming. 

“Wha…?” you slurred, smacking your lips as you noticed your mouth was dry. You blinked slowly again. 

“You’re going to be groggy for a bit, but everything was successful and went smoothly” the voice said. It was soothing, hearing him talk. You finally focused on him, sitting in the corner of the room on a chair. He stood, and your eyes lagged to follow his movements. 

“Law” you whispered in recognition as the light hit his face. You could feel yourself smiling dopily.

“You’re so pretty, Law” you slurred. You wanted to touch his face, feel his beard and sideburns, to feel the heat from his tanned skin as he blushed at your compliment. Your arm twitched, but didn’t move completely off the bed. You scowled at it before it crashed into you. 

Your arm. 

You had arms. 

The surgery. The arms. It worked! 

You looked up at Law, tears filling your eyes as you looked at him with true, unfiltered gratitude. He paused at your tears. 

“Does it hurt? Are you in pain?” he quickly bent over to check your shoulders but you shakily raised one hand to touch his face. You could feel the echoes of his skin and the coarseness of his sideburns and beard. 

“I can touch you,” you said softly. A wide smile puffed your cheeks and you laughed a little in disbelief. Law smiled a little, just a small quirk of his lips, and put his hand on the back of yours. 

“Yeah. But are you in pain?” he asked again. You stared at his hand, resting on top of yours. You could feel the heat of it, and how warm he was. More tears flowed with your happiness. You sniffed, finally taking stock of your body. The sites of the attachments were stinging and throbbing, but it was tolerable. 

“Yeah but it’s not bad” you finally said. Law sighed in relief, put your hand back on the bed, and stood upright. 

“Good. It should be painful, but not so bad it's unbearable and you shouldn’t be numb. I’ll go get your crew,” he said. You nodded, still unable to wipe the smile off your face. He walked quickly to the door and opened it. His soft voice floated back to you as you bent both arms at the elbow to look at your hands. 

They were incredible, intricate pieces that were made of metal. The silver gleam was dulled in the light that was only provided by a lamp on the small table across the room, but it was the best thing you’ve ever laid eyes on. You tried clenching and unclenching your fist, checking out the movement. It was choppy, and it hurt like a bitch at the attachment sites, but they worked. Your dazed study of your arms was interrupted by Law yelling at your captain. 

“Oi! Mugiwara-ya! Be fucking gentle! I won’t have you screwing up my work!” 

You heard Luffy and the crew running towards your room way before you saw any faces. Luffy’s slap of his sandals, Franky’s metal arms pumping, Usopp screeching as he got run over by Nami, who was wearing heels. You heard the two different taps of dress shoes from both Sanji and Brook. Luffy’s rubber hands gripped the doorframe and he shot himself past your room before letting his body pull him back so he could jump off the adjacent wall and fly into your room. He skidded to a halt at the side of your bed, eyes twinkling and a huge, toothy smile on his face. You noticed Chopper was hanging onto his shoulder for dear life, but popped up to see how you were doing. 

“Shihihihihi~ You’re awake! You have suuuuuper cool robot arms! Man, I have the coolest crew. Are you hungry? Should Sanji to cook you something? Can he make you meat?” Luffy fired questions at you one after the other. In your groggy state of mind, the words jumbled together, but you were saved by Chopper, who hopped onto your bed gently. 

“Shut up, Luffy! Patient’s are usually confused and groggy when they first wake up. And no, no meat right now- that’s just an excuse for you to eat more meat!” Chopper chided Luffy. You couldn’t help but smile at the reindeer. He’s just too cute. 

“Cute” you mumbled. You wanted to squish his face. Your arms were still bent at the elbow, and you let Chopper gently crawl up your body to sit on your stomach. 

“Squish squish” you slurred, pinching his cheeks. He cried out in pain a little but there was still a smile fighting to stay on his face. He pulled his cheeks free from your grip and giggled while rubbing the sore spots. 

“Well it looks like we need to train fine motor skills, but that’s to be expected,” he said. His words washed over you, the meaning clicking in your mind somewhere, but not coming to the forefront. You were distracted by movement by the doorway. Sanji and Franky were trying to shove each other out of the way to get into the door first, but Nami’s well-planted foot on Franky’s butt caused him to stumble into the room first, but he caught himself and seemed to materialize by your bedside. Nami entered second, as Sanji let her go first, before cutting in front of Usopp. You blinked slowly, and suddenly your bed was surrounded by your crew. Well, all except one. You looked at Luffy, who started asking about what kind of cool robot things you could do now, and Chopper tried desperately to answer for you. You looked at Franky next, and he got closer to you with a smile. 

“Heya, kiddo. Ya got’cha suuuuperrrrr arms. Everything went well! Law is a super surgeon, and with a little bit of physical therapy and training, you should get used to the arms in no time,” he said. You looked at him, blinking slowly as the words sunk in and the meaning clicked. You smiled up at him. 

“I love you like a brother. My big brother. I’ll protect you, cuz we’re twin-sies,” you murmured, raising your hand. He clasped it, tears starting to form in his eyes at your drugged words. Your grip tightened in mechanical increments around his, and you flinched a little as the attachment sites stung. He let go of your hand, and brought it down to rest on your stomach. 

“You need to let the sites heal a little more before you really start using it,” he said around tears streaming down his face. You hummed a little in response, letting your gaze wander. It landed on Sanji, who was hovering uncertainly on your other side. 

“Hey, cook” you greeted softly. Sanji’s lip quivered a little but he broke out in a smile. 

“Hey, my little fighter, do you need anything? Water? Food?” he asked, reaching out gently to stroke your hair. You let yourself nuzzle into his hand. 

“So kind, Sanji. So nice, and strong, and kind. Did I say that already?” You slurred your words slightly. His hand froze on your head, and you whined a little when he stopped stroking your hair. You looked at him with a small pout. His cheeks were a bright red, and he was looking at you, lips parted with shock. You let your head fall more into his hand. 

“More” you mumbled. He immediately started back up again, and you closed your eyes briefly with a hum. Sounds of indignation from Brook brought your gaze to him, and he reached out with a tentative hand. 

“May I please… see your panties?” he asked solemnly. Nami whacked his skull as you giggled a little. 

“I haven’t heard that in a while. Did I change that much?” you asked him, a small smile on your face. The crew quieted at your question, before Nami spoke up. 

“No sweetie. You haven’t changed much at all, it’s just that we got scared. You were so hurt, that we didn’t know how to act around you,” she said quietly. You hummed. Sanji’s hand kept stroking your hair. 

“Like Zoro. He was scared, and guilty, and only got that out in anger” you said, brow furrowing. The words you were trying to say weren’t coming out as clearly as you wanted. The crew was silent for a moment. 

“Yes, he was, and is, feeling scared and guilty” Robin answered. You nodded once in confirmation, smiling at the fact that they still understood what you were trying to say. You looked up at Sanji, smiling proudly. 

“Just like you said,” you whispered loudly. He smiled sadly down at you, tears brimming his eyes. 

“Yeah. Just like I said” he murmured. A snorting sniff attracted your attention, and you looked at Usopp, who was obviously fighting back tears. 

“Hey Usopp, did it hurt your mother when she gave birth to a baby with such a big nose?” you asked seriously. Franky snorted a laugh, shocked by your question. Brook started laughing so hard he ended up on his knees and elbows, crashing a fist into the floor as he repeated your question breathlessly. Luffy started laughing wildly, Chopper right beside him, and you smiled at the sound. Nami sank into a chair, clutching her stomach as she laughed. Robin giggled behind her hand, and Usopp stared at you with a shocked expression. 

“I uh… I don’t know” he said finally, before erupting into giggles. You hummed, looking at Sanji, who was laughing loudly. You smiled at him. He was gorgeous like this. Laughter suited him well. 

You didn’t realize you said it out loud until he was looking down at you in surprise, a grin on his face as his cheeks turned pink. The rest of the crew was still ganging up on Usopp, teasing about his long nose. 

“Thank you, but you are much more gorgeous than I could ever be,” he answered. You giggled, a dumb joke coming to mind. 

“I think I’ll shine brighter now that I’m part metal” you said, grinning up at him. He fought back tears at your drugged giddiness. A wave of exhaustion swept through your body, and you relaxed completely against your pillow. 

“Okay that’s it. Everyone out,” Law chided from the doorway. Robin, Nami, Brook and Usopp filed out with various well wishes. Sanji soothed a hand over your hair one more time before dropping a light kiss against your forehead. You hardly registered it through your exhaustion, eyes drooping and a hum of contentment was pulled unconsciously from your chest. 

“Bonne nuit, fais de beaux rêves, mon Ange” (goodnight, sweet dreams, my angel) Sanji whispered. You didn’t have a clue what he said, but you knew it was something sweet. Luffy sat down on the chair that Law had previously sat in, obviously not going anywhere. You faded off to sleep as you heard Franky, Chopper, and Law murmuring at the foot of your bed. 

As you drifted in and out of consciousness, you felt strange, pain echoing in your shoulders and attachment sites, spreading to an odd sensation in your arms. You could feel things, and they didn’t exactly hurt, but it was really uncomfortable. You were interrupted through the night by Law’s crew, taking turns to check your vitals and healing through the night. Luffy sprawled out on the chairs, snoring loudly, and you found the comfort of familiarity in the sound. 

The next few days passed in a blur, your memory and time perception altered by the pain drugs Law was administering through your neck IV. In your bouts of consciousness, you managed to eat broth and light meals prepared by Sanji that were packed with nutrition. He fed you the broth, your arm still movements too jerky to keep the liquid balanced on the spoon, but watched you carefully as you fed yourself bite-sized pieces of fruit that he stabbed with a fork and handed to you. You accidentally bent a few forks at first when you grabbed it, but Franky walked you through practicing your fine motor skills. At least now you weren’t bending forks every time you tried to eat a piece of apple. Law actually had a difficult time keeping your crew from overwhelming you, and muttered under his breath when he was checking your surgery sites about how it was like herding animals. You remember bits of Law keeping you company when you were unable to sleep during the dead of night from your naps during the day. He sat with his textbooks in his lap beside your bed and told you intriguing facts and topics from his studies. He sometimes fell asleep in the chair, and you remembered inviting him to sleep with you instead of in the chair. His cheeks turned bright red as he swiftly excused himself saying that he heard his crew calling him. 

The rest of the Straw Hat Pirates kept you company through the day, much like they did when you were recovering on the Sunny. Franky and Usopp teamed up to design ‘sleeves’ to go over your metal arms when you wanted ‘skin’ over them. Usopp designed various color, black, and even metallic tattoos to go on some, and others had freckles or smooth skin. Some even had long, painted and fancy nails that you could even use like needle-like knives. Anything you could ever want your arms and hands to look like could happen. They blended seamlessly with your natural skin tone, and covered the attachment sites to protect them. Usopp and Franky finished the first one while you were still recovering, bursting into the room excitedly as you were sitting and chatting with a mixture of your crew and Law’s crew. Everyone startled for a second at the sound, but calmed once Franky’s bright smile shone and Usopp’s voice began to exaggerate the effort that went into the project. You eyed the sleeve with curiosity. It was basically like a glove made of synthetic skin, made out of the same material Franky used on himself. 

“What design is this one?” you asked excitedly. Franky snatched the sleeve from Usopp and held it up, but you still couldn’t quite make out what the tattoos were. 

“Hold out your left arm and close your eyes,” he instructed. You grinned and did as you were told. The cyborg gently slid the glove on your metal arm, making sure not to force it when something got caught. The pressure was still uncomfortable on your attachment sites, but it wasn’t exactly painful. You felt his fingers brush over the highly sensitive skin of the sites, and you jerked away from the sudden sensation. 

“Sorry,” he muttered. 

“It’s okay. They’re just really sensitive,” you answered. Franky hummed a little, carefully pulling the sleeve away from the metal and skin as he pulled it the rest of the way up. 

“They’ll likely be for a little while longer, unfortunately. But this will help protect them, and won’t rub against it,” he answered. He finally stopped fidgeting with the sleeve and pulled back. 

“Alright. Open your eyes,” he said proudly. Your eyes opened, gaze going directly to your arm. It was… stunning. A sleeve of your dream tattoos swirled on your skin, looking freshly healed and vibrant. You moved your arm, elbow bending and circled your wrist. The material moved exactly like skin, and your eyes traveled to where the attachment site should be. It was covered and the top of the sleeve thinned into featherlight nothingness as it blended into your shoulder. 

“Wow” you whispered under your breath. You knew the material was synthesized to be stronger than normal skin, resistant to blades, bullets, and heat. Your brows scrunched upwards, and you fought back tears as a smile curved your mouth. Words of gratitude bubbled in your throat, too many to express coherently. Tears spilled down your cheeks as a laugh forced its way out. You simply held your hands out for a hug, one metal and one seemingly flesh. Both men grinned as tears welled up in their own eyes, and they hugged you at the same time. 

“Thank you” you whispered. It didn’t feel enough, but there weren’t words deep enough to express your gratitude. 

“Of course!”

“Always,” they answered in tandem. More laughter rose from your chest as you pulled back to inspect the sleeve some more. You noticed the texture of it, and the wrinkles indicating your knuckles. There were even ‘calluses’ on your fingers, and lines on your palm. The only thing different from real skin was that the sleeve was devoid of hair. Franky had explained earlier that putting fibers like that on would pierce through the material, and weaken it somehow, but it was a small detail you were willing to give up.

“It’s incredible work” you said in a hushed tone. You finally noticed the rest of the visitors were crowded around on the other side of the bed, getting a closer look at your sleeve. You held out your arm, and various fingers reached out to touch it and trace over the lines of your tattoos. You could feel it all. It was distant, but you were assured that you would be able to feel everything as much as possible in the next few months.

 You couldn’t stop smiling and staring at your arm until it was time to take it off so Law could check your attachment sites. 

“You’re healing really well,” he said quietly. You smiled up at him, but looked away when your heart flipped as he returned your smile with a tiny one of his own. 

“Is that a compliment?” you asked teasingly. Law scoffed and rolled his eyes playfully. 

“You wish. A compliment to Chopper-ya and Franky-ya, and to myself,” he muttered. You giggled. Your ribs were still sore with the movement, but apparently Law did something while you were in surgery to speed up the healing of your ribs and sternum. You watched him as he leaned over you, his eyes focused on your attachment sites as he moved your arm about.

“Law?” 

“Hmm?” 

“I’ve been in this bed for days. When can I start moving and gods above, when can I bathe?” you pleaded. Law sighed. 

“Yeah, you're right. You do smell,” he said as he pulled back to walk around the bed to check your other arm. You rolled your eyes. 

“I know. If you’d let me, I’d be on my knees begging you to have mercy but you won’t let me out of bed,” you huffed. Law’s face flushed and he cleared his throat loudly. The double meaning of your words slammed into you and your cheeks heated with embarrassment. Your thoughts had drifted to thoughts of him in terms of… bedroom activities, but that was because you were so bored! It had been a week, and during that time, you were only allowed out of bed to go to the bathroom under strict supervision. 

“I didn’t mean it like that… I mean I wouldn’t be opposed but- I mean I just think you’re ho- um. Attractive? But of course I’m sure you know that and get told that a lot, even though you’re a sadistic dork, which is quite an impressive contradiction… right? And I’ll just shut up now,” you stumbled through your attempt at correcting yourself desperately, looking anywhere but the man standing at your side. The words kept flowing out of your mouth, digging yourself into a deeper hole with each syllable. Your cheeks were burning, and you felt heat all over your face from your embarrassment. Silence seeped into the air thick with your humiliating words. You felt like it lasted for much longer than you know it did, and it was only interrupted by Law letting out a small chuckle. You sighed and hid your face behind your hands. The cool metal pressed against your heated face, and you groaned both in relief and embarrassment. 

“A hot, sadistic dork, huh?” he teased in a low voice. You made a noise in your throat- somewhere between a squeak and a groan. You distantly felt him touch the back of your hands, trying to pull them away from your face. You resisted, and hissed a little in pain when the attachment sites burned with the effort. He pulled back immediately, his cool hands tracing your skin and checking the sites to make sure nothing was injured. Your hands had fallen from your face and the burning eased quickly, and you could only focus on his golden eyes tracing over your skin and his cool hands maneuvering your arm. His piercing gaze found your admiring one and you yanked your gaze to your arm. The attachment site was completely fine. 

“You like that I’m a hot sadistic dork, don’t you?” he murmured. You could hear the amused smirk in his voice, and you looked resolutely up at the ceiling, not looking at him. 

“You changed my life with these. I think you’re an amazing surgeon and our ally and friend” you said carefully, raising your hands briefly to demonstrate your point. Your cheeks still felt hot. 

“That didn’t answer my question,” he answered teasingly. You huffed a sigh, closing your eyes as you let your head fall onto your pillow. You felt him place his hands on the mattress near your shoulder and lean over you to check the other attachment site. Your heart flipped.

“Fine. Yes. I like that you’re a stupidly hot, smart, nerdy, sadistic dork” you answered with faux annoyance. You opened your eyes with a scowl, wishing you could control your arms gently enough to cross your arms over your chest. He was peering down at you from above, gold eyes pinning you to the bed with mirth and amusement. A stupidly sexy smirk curved his lips. 

“See? It wasn’t that hard to admit now, was it?” His eyes flicked to your lips before meeting your gaze again. He swallowed hard, and you followed the movement, trailing your eyes from his throat down to his toned, tattooed chest. You ripped your eyes back up to his gaze, now highly amused by your obvious actions. Guilt stabbed through you, and you looked away, turning your head to the side. 

“Kinda was,” you said easily. Law pushed back so he was standing upright, and sat down in a chair. There was a moment of comfortable silence.

“You were with Zoro-ya, weren’t you?” he asked quietly. You sighed heavily. 

“Yeah. I was. For a few years” you answered. Law hummed. 

“So your type is men with big swords?” he asked cheekily. You looked over at him quickly in surprise, before laughing in shock and at his joke. 

“Yeah I guess so” you said around giggles. Law smiled gently at you. It was late, and he had kicked your crewmates off his ship for the night. You didn’t need to be checked on through the night anymore, so his crew was catching up on sleep if they weren’t partying with your crewmates. 

“Can I ask you a personal question?” he asked. You looked at him with a dying smile, and sighed. 

“You want to know why Zoro and I broke up?” you guessed. The surgeon nodded. You sighed and settled on your bed on your side, with your arm tucked under your pillow to reduce the weight resting on the attachment site. It was still a little uncomfortable, but it wasn’t bad. 

“If I’m honest, I’m not completely sure if we officially broke up. I got hurt protecting him after I told him we should run…” memories of the day flicked through your mind, and you shook your head a little before continuing, “I’m sure you know the details of the injuries and can piece together what happened. But he was knocked out for a bit, and I tried to protect him even then. I finally could call for help and only passed out when I knew one of my crew was there taking care of the Marines. Apparently he threw up when he saw my body, thinking I was dead, but then carried me back to the ship with whoever came to save us. I dunno if he was there when I was still asleep and recovering or what. But I do remember that when I was awake for good finally, he had to leave the room. Some night later, either that same one or the one after, I don’t remember, he came into my room and… yelled at me, I guess screamed at me?” The memory of his harsh words floated back to mind, and you closed your eyes in shame before looking at Law and continuing,

“He asked me why I protected him, saying he didn’t need saving. He was gripping my knee, and honestly I was scared he was going to crush it.  He yelled at me, asking if I thought he was so weak that he needed saving, and what the hell I meant when I said I wasn’t thinking. He punched a hole in the wall above my head, and when I screamed, Luffy and Sanji ran in. He kept going though, keeping his fist in the wall he called me a weak pathetic piece of shit, how I could lose my arms to a wall, and that he wished the bomb had hit him so he wouldn’t need to see the person he was dating like… this,” you swallowed and cleared your throat. It was relieving to be able to tell someone what happened, instead of someone already knowing. It was hard to get the words out through your remembered fear, but it was still a relief to talk about it. Your gaze had wandered a little while you recalled the incident, and you looked back at the surgeon. His eyes were shadowed under his hat, but his jaw was clenched and his hands were curled into fists on his knees. You sighed, but continued with your story,

“Luffy dragged him out of the room and they fought. It took Luffy, Sanji, and Robin to restrain him until Luffy could break through his anger. Zoro even tried to attack Nami. He stayed away from me for a few days until he came to apologize. I had Franky right outside the door and had him keep it cracked open so he could intervene. I was probably kind of an asshole, but I was kind of surprised when he said he wanted to apologize. I asked if he really wanted to, and he said that Luffy told him he had to. I sarcastically said ‘oh thanks’ and he got kinda pissed and said ‘I’m trying to apologize, isn’t that enough?’ and I lost my shit. I yelled at him, saying that I wanted him to apologize when he means it, not because he was ordered to. Franky hauled Zoro’s ass out of the room and I haven’t seen him since. I don’t honestly know how to be around him anymore, but I love the crew,” you finished. You almost expected to cry during the story, but at this point, you were numb towards it. It happened, and nothing was going to change how he broke your heart.

You glanced at Law, who hadn’t moved, before shifting to lay on your back to ease the discomfort of your arm. You let the silence hang like the stickiness of humidity. It was a few minutes before Law spoke. 

“Join my crew.” 

You looked at him in shock, sitting up and turning fully towards him. 

“What?” 

“Just for a few months, until you feel comfortable going back to your own crew. Unless you decide you want to stay here. We run into the Straw Pirates often enough, especially if we keep this alliance,” he explained. You looked at him in surprise, but looked to the side as you started thinking.

“Law…” you started. He interrupted you. 

“Don’t decide now. Think about it for a while and talk to your crew. I… I know that you kind of have something going on with that curly-browed cook too, and he will treat you exactly how you deserve. Better than I ever could. So think about it. We can sail near the Straw Hats for a little while too. It’s up to you,” Law stood and walked to the door, shoes tapping loudly in your shocked silence. He tossed a small smile over his shoulder before speaking again. 

“Get some rest, and we’ll have Chopper help give you a bath tomorrow, okay? We’ll see how you feel walking around after that,” Law said. You nodded, and he opened the door to leave. 

“Law” you called. He stopped, looking back at you with a raised brow. 

“Thank you, for the offer. I’m seriously thinking about it,” you said. This time he nodded. 

“Good.” He stepped out of the room and closed the door quietly. You flopped down back on the bed, thinking about his words. 

I know that you kind of have something going on with that curly-browed cook too, and he will treat you exactly how you deserve. Better than I ever could. So think about it. 

What did he mean by ‘better than I ever could’? Did he also feel the connection between the two of you? 

Thoughts swirled around your head. You’d desperately miss your crew, who was family, but you’d be healing and could go back to them. But if you stayed here, you could fall in love with Law, or at least have something with him. You also did, admittedly, have something with Sanji, who cared for you and you knew would treat you right. But if you did get with Sanji, that could cause even more tension with Zoro. But if you went back to the Straw Hats, then you’d have Chopper, Franky, and Usopp to help you get used to your arm and training you, but Luffy was also reckless and you could end up in a situation you weren’t ready for. Law was meticulous and an incredible surgeon, and his crew were well trained in terms of mechanics, so it would be fine to stay with them. But if you stayed with them, then you’d really miss your family, but if you went back to them, you’d have to deal with living with Zoro, but if you stayed with the Heart Pirates, then you wouldn’t know how to live with Zoro and would have to adjust while also adjusting to living with the rest of them again. 

You heaved a sigh, the thoughts swirling and circling back to each other in your head. You settled down in your heap of blankets and pillows, letting your thoughts sway your mind into a fitful sleep.

Those who asked to be tagged: @@blue-rae18 @metonimia-de-bellota @perilous-pasta @thesleppybitch darkartincub0-blog @letssayless @brokenangstyheart @stachelrose @fluffybunnyu @yunho-leeknow @admoonchild @lakkiiii @khjcoo

[venomwrites]

Violet Vanderson died horribly.

Vi taps the pen to her lip. Considers her next move. Caitlyn’s couch is super comfortable and she can hear her working across the room. Vi takes a deep breath, she needs to get in the right headspace. To focus. 

“You seem upset,” Caitlyn says. 

“I’m in your blindspot,” Vi reminders her. 

“You’re huffing,” Caitlyn replies evenly.

Vi rolls her eyes. 

“I heard that.”

“Bullshit. Alright listen to this,” she says and rolls onto her stomach. “Vi Vanderson died horribly. She is survived by her sister who got so high on body paint fumes she forgot Vi spent every second looking for her and would be deeply affected by her death,” she taps the pen to her lip again, “come immediately to pay your respects because as per her last wishes, Ekko is in the coffin and running out of air.”

“Vi!” Caitlyn says her name with equal parts affection and frustration, “that’s horrible.”

“Horrible enough you’d come to the funeral?” She asks hopefully. 

Caitlyn sighs and pushes herself up. Vi rolls onto her back and lifts her head as Caitlyn sits down, slipping her thigh at the nape of Vi’s neck. She’s wearing a pair of soft, expensive pants that turn her thigh into the nicest pillow ever. So nice that Vi barely protests when Caitlyn takes the obituary form and pen out of her hands. She gets one soft noise out before Caitlyn sweeps her fingers through her bangs and scratches her fingertips into Vi’s scalp. 

“She has to come if she thinks I’m dead, right?” Vi mumbles. Caitlyn digs her fingers against her scalp and Vi arches into the touch. 

“Vi Vanderson died horribly because her girlfriend got very annoyed with her writing her own obituary given the number of times she has almost died,” Caitlyn says. 

“You beat me last time,” Vi points out. Caitlyn’s fingers still, “okay okay,” Vi sighs, “Vi Vanderson died horribly because her girlfriend has pretty nails.” Caitlyn’s fingers go back to work. She drags a sound from Vi’s throat, “Vi Vanderson died horribly because this feels fucking great.

“Maybe Vi Vanderson should not be drafting her own obituary,” Caitlyn says. 

Vi has always liked the way Caitlyn says her name. Even when it was said in completely exasperation. When she’s exasperated color goes high on her cheeks and she looks so real and warm, sometimes Vi does shit just to get her to say her name like that. She likes it when she says it softly, when she moans it, she likes all of it. She’s always been Vi to Caitlyn. Violet sometimes, usually when she’s asking something serious or wanting her attention. But then she slips right back into Vi. 

Vanderson had been a gut punch split second decision. They could have just set her shoulder but Vi wasn’t leaving Caitlyn’s side. The only way to stay with someone when they had a gut wound and a gouged out eye was to get yourself admitted. Apparently screaming VI wasn’t enough for Piltover. So she had blurted out the first thing that she could think of. Vanderson. Vander was my dad. I’m from him, he’s with me no matter what I do. Where I go. Like he always has been, even when we’re worlds apart. 

Violet Vanderson. 

“I wouldn’t have to write this stupid thing if she was just—thinking straight,” Vi mutters. 

“Let’s say you write it,” Caitlyn says, “what then? We have to throw your funeral?” She frowns at the paper.

“I guess?” Vi says. Caitlyn makes a noise, “don’t worry I was only joking about the Ekko thing.”

“Vi I am not throwing you a funeral,” Caitlyn says like it’s not a brilliant idea. It’s fair play too. Jinx let her think she was dead, now she can cry over Vi’s funeral, “why don’t you just wait for her to contact you?”

“Because she won’t,” Vi says. She looks up at Caitlyn who meets her gaze with an arch of a delicate eyebrow, “she needs a trap. Wasn’t that on your board?” Caitlyn goes red, “maybe that’s why you never caught her.”

Caitlyn shakes her head and pulls her hand away. Vi almost regrets the teasing until Caitlyn clicks the pen between her wonderful, nimble fingers. 

“Vi Vanderson died horribly because she opened her mouth,” she starts. Vi parts her lips, “and finished the sentence we both know she is about to say.” 

Vi makes a face. 

“You know you like it,” she says, “Vi Vanderson died horribly because her girlfriend has no sense of humor.”

“Vi Vanderson died horribly because she keeps getting lost in the house.”

“Vi Vanderson died horribly because her girlfriend wouldn’t let her go to the fish market after—”

“You did almost die!” 

“Barely.”

Caitlyn huffs but she combs her fingers back through Vi’s hair. There’s a sound of creasing paper. Vi opens her eyes to see Caitlyn fold the obituary form into a precise shape. She gives Vi a look and flicks her wrist. The paper makes a precise loop and then dives into the fire. Vi tilts her head to watch it be devoured in the flames. She drops her head back against Caitlyn’s thigh. Caitlyn gives a satisfied smirk and goes back to rubbing Vi’s scalp

“Vi Vanderson died horribly because her girlfriend is very good with her hands.” 

[anama-cara]

swipe right

Rhysand x reader drabble

Summary: After matching on a dating app, you meet Rhysand at your local café for a 1st date. It does not go how you expected. Word count: 2.2k Drabble. AU. Set in the real world. Descriptions of reader’s clothing only. Use of y/n.

Warnings: Minors dni, 18+, Unprotected PIV, fingering (f receiving)

You’re sitting in a booth with your back against the wall, facing the door. He’s late. You swirl your cup of coffee in front of you. You know you should have waited for him to order, but you felt bad taking up a table and not ordering anything. You dressed up a bit for your date, but not too much. You don’t want to appear like you’re trying too hard, or be over dressed if he wears something really casual. You wear a black skater skirt and a light blue sweater with a silver pendant.

              Did you just get stood up? You stare at your cup, only a third left. The bell above the door jingles and you look up. The world seems to go quiet and you stare. He’s freaking gorgeous. Darkness seems to ripple out of him. The people chatting around you go quiet for a second. Tall dark and handsome would be an understatement, you think to yourself. You blink and avert your eyes before he can catch you staring. The talking around you starts up again. My gosh he is unbelievably attractive. He was handsome in his profile picture sure, but the photo was a bit farther away and kinda grainy, this… him… Your heart is beating embarrassingly fast.

              He glances around the café and his eyes land on you. Your stomach flutters at the eye contact made. He grins and you began to feel that flutter a little lower. He approaches your table, smoothly. So smooth. He moves silently, full of ease and grace.

              “Y/N?”

              You have to clear your throat before saying, “Yes, nice to finally meet you in person.”

              He drags the chair out from the table and takes a seat across from you. You watch him as he moves and gulp. You watch his hands as he grips the chair, broad and strong, watch the muscles flex in his forearms. His arms were tanned and muscled, his biceps tight under his charcoal short sleeved t-shirt. The shirt also graciously showed off his broad shoulders and chest. You knew underneath there hid a very toned abdomen. You said a silent thank you to the shirt. He wore black jeans and black boots to complete the look. Peeking out underneath his shirt collar you could see whispers of a dark flowing tattoo that swept across his chest. It wound around his biceps too. You had never really been a fan of tattoos but suddenly it seemed like the most attractive thing in the world. That is, until you looked up and met his eyes as he sat down as gazed at you, smiling broadly.

              Shit.

              You wouldn’t admit to yourself that you felt a tug between your legs. His eyes were violet. Impossible. He had violet eyes that seemed to dance in the light. You stared until you realized you were being rude and blinked away, hoping he hadn’t noticed your awe. He did. His devilish grin grew.

              “Hello darling”

              Oh fuuuuck. That velvet voice. You were in trouble alright.

              “Nice to meet you too. This is a charming little place you picked,” he says casually, glancing around the café. He looks back to you. “Cozy,” he says with a wink. A flirt.

              He noticed your already half drunk cup of coffee and frowns. “I’m sorry I was late. A friend of mine, Cass, was in a tight spot and I had to help him out.”

You realize you haven’t spoken a word yet. You were too enthralled with his beauty. You shake your head ever so slightly and ask calmy, “Oh no worries. Is your friend okay?”

              “Nothing I couldn’t handle,” he replied with a cocky smile. “He’s just one of those friends that sometimes does stuff without thinking and trouble always seems to follow them.”

              Just then the waitress arrives and stands next to him to take his order. Very close to him. He gives he order quickly – coffee. Black.

              “Thank you,” he says as she writes it down. His voice is polite and quiet. Not at all like the flirtatious tone he had just been using moments ago, despite the waitress flashing smiles and batting her eyelashes, giving all the obvious signals like you’re invisible. You clear your throat. She throws you a glare before leaving.

              “You look beautiful.” Now his tone is respectful. Sincere. You hide your blush.

              What a flirt. But it was working.

              “Thank you.” You give a little laugh. “You look beautiful too.” He smiles at your compliment.

You chat back and forth about all the normal first date stuff: where you both grew up, what you studied in school, what your favorite book was, what kind of music you listened to. You got to know each other, sipping on coffee and giggling at his shameless flirting. Before you knew it two hours had gone by and the shop was closing.

“Where did you park?” he asks. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

“I’m behind the back and down the alley,” you give a shrug. “Free parking.”

He chuckles and stands from his chair, offering you a hand. You take it and he helps you up. He doesn’t let go of your hand. He leads you through the shop to the back door. As you pass the waitress you give her an overly sweet sarcastic smile.

Its late in the afternoon and the sky is a fading blue and the sun sinks into dusk. There’s a street lamp on the road, but the alley is mostly painted in shadows.

He stops and turns to face you. “I had a good time today. When can I see you again?” He’s still holding your hand.

Your mind is blank, he’s so much closer, there’s no table between you, no café full of other people. It’s just the two of you, surrounded by shadow in the still night and he is standing right in front of you, so very close. You could reach out and touch his face, you could…

--

His eyes move back and forth between your own. The slight anxiety he had from you not answering his question instantly vanishes and he clocks your expression. He takes a step forward, closing the space between you. Your hand floats upwards on its own accord and reaches out to cup his jaw. Your eyes never leave his own and you still look dazed. He smiles to himself and takes another step. You instinctively follow his lead, stepping backwards until your back is pressed against the cold alley wall. He lets go of you and cages you against the wall, hands pressed into the concrete on either side of your head. Your beautiful hand is still cupping his face and he leans into your touch closing his eyes a moment to relish in it. When he opens his eyes again you’re still gazing at him and your glossed lips are slightly parted. He lowers his head and leans in closer, whispering against your skin barely inches away.

“Can I kiss you?” You nod and close your eyes. He smiles and takes pauses, taking the image of you in, committing it to memory before he presses his lips to yours.

--

His lips are soft and full as they move against yours, taking your breath away. You lift your head off the wall slightly, deepening the kiss. He reciprocates your eagerness and you part your lips, his tongue immediately licking into your mouth. Your hand that was resting on his jaw moves down, lightly sliding along the skin of his neck and collar bone to grip at his shoulder, pulling him closer to you. You hook one leg around his waist to pull his whole body against yours. Any tenderness in that kiss is gone and you are full on making-out. Your body grinds into his and you feel his body tense in response. What is wrong with you? You don’t do this on first dates. You don’t make out with people in dark alleyways. But he has some power of you, there’s just something about him that draws you in and won’t let go. All rational thoughts leave your head as your body takes over, focusing on the feel of his lips against yours, the muscles in his shoulder, the warmth of his body pressed to yours. His right hand drops from the wall and reaches for the leg you looped around him. He hikes your leg up and hold you, slowly running his hand up and down your thigh. Your skin tingles at his touch and you feel yourself getting wetter. His hand moves farther up your thigh and he skims the hem of skirt. He pulls back, gasping. You tilt your head back, leaning it against the wall for support.

“Can I- “

“Please” you immediately respond.

He smirks and leans forward to kiss you again. His hand moves all the way up your thigh, under your skirt and his thumb hooks the waistband of your lacy underwear. He slowly pulls them down, taking his time as his hand brushes against your skin. Not wanting them to fall on the dirty alley floor he tucks them into his back pocket. Maybe you’ll just let him keep them. Then his hand is back on you, gliding up, leaving a trail of electricity at the contact. His touch makes your skin come alive and you arch your back at the feeling.

Gently his fingers reach your core and he runs his middle finger up your seam. He groans into your mouth at the feeling of your wetness. It drags up and down a few times tantalizingly, then circles your entrance to gather slick before sliding back up to your clit. He flicks it then begins rubbing slow circles. You moan into his mouth as he plays with you. His finger glides back down and pushes into you, curling against your wall in the most wonderful way. You break the kiss as you tilt your head back into the wall, pressing against it as your back arches and your hips roll into his hand. He brings his lips to your chin that juts out, leaving a kiss before his open lips trail down your neck. A shiver runs down your spine. Your having trouble figuring out where to focus, his mouth or his hand. He presses his lips into the hollow of your throat then into the bit of cleavage visible above the V-neck collar of your sweater. He sucks on the soft flesh of your breast as he continues to slide his finger in and out of you. It feels so good and you let out a strangled little noise. His hand stills and leaves you to rest on your inner thigh. His eyes flick up to yours and his lips leave your flesh.

“Are you sure?” He asks. His violet eyes are gleaming and eager.

You nod as you reach for his pants in response. You unbutton his jeans and look up to meet his eyes again as you slowly lower his zipper. He is completely still; you think he may even be holding his breath. Your fingers slip under the waistband of his jeans and boxers at his hips. With both hands you tug them down till they rest on his thighs. Even in the low lighting you can tell that his cock is just as beautiful as the rest of him. But he doesn’t give you any time to admire it. He leans you back against the wall again and hooks your leg back around him, holding just below your knee. He gives you a quick kiss before pulling back to wrap a large hand around his thick cock and guiding it into your entrance. He pauses there to read your eyes again before slowly pushing all the way into you. Once he is inside you, he breathes deeply. His hand brushes against your cheek affectionately before he places it back onto the wall. He shits his weight forward, leaning against his hand and thrusting even farther into you, pushing your own hips into the wall. He hits something deep inside you and you let out a moan. Spurred on by your sounds he pulls out halfway then thrusts back into you as he sets up a pace.

It doesn’t take long before you feel your orgasm building.

“Rhysand I’m-“

“Me too darling.” He replies with a grunt as he deepens his movements.

And then you’re contracting around him, holding onto him as you ride your waves of pleasure. Your hand is squeezing his shoulder and your pussy is squeezing his cock as you cling to him. Just as you’re coming down you feel him quickly pull out. He strokes his cock and points it at the alley wall beside you but he sees you lift your skirt up and groans loudly as he spills on your lower stomach. It trickles down onto your mound and your sensitive core.

He lets out a shaky breath and leans into you, resting his head on your shoulder, his cock pressed against your sticky stomach. You feel his chest rise and fall against yours and his hot breath on your back.

“Tomorrow. I’m free tomorrow.” You say and he laughs. It’s a bright, beautiful laugh and you smile underneath him. He presses a kiss to your shoulder then your lips.

“Good.”

[thezombieprostitute]

Hummingbird - Part 4

Summary: You didn't want to break into someone's party but you were desperate to see the art at the gallery before it was gone. You're so busy trying to make sure no one sees you that you miss the ever present gaze of Steve Rogers who is wondering why you crashed his party.

Word Count: ~1300

A/N: Reader is female but no physical descriptors are used.

A/N2: This takes place at the same time as Dream Come True - Part 3.

Warnings: Talk of purposefully not eating enough. Let me know if I missed any!

Part 3 -- Part 5

Series Masterlist

After the party was officially over and the last guest had left, Steve pulled you in for a deep kiss. “Thank you for staying with me tonight,” he breathes. “Couldn’t have gotten through this without you.”

“Yes, you would have,” you croon. 

“Nope,” he counters, holding you close to him. “I definitely wouldn’t have been able to keep my calm without you on my arm. Would’ve thrown everyone out in a huff at the end of the scheduled time instead of letting them linger as an excuse to keep you with me.”

“Ah, I was wondering why you let so many stragglers stick around,” you smile at him. “Anything to spend more time with me, huh?”

“We can spend a lot more time together. Tonight. If you want,” he smirks.

“As much fun as that would be,” you tease, “I want to have an actual date or two first.”

“I can respect that. What would you like? A night on the town? A night at the gallery? A fancy, incredibly exclusive restaurant?”

You smirk, “I want to see you in something other than a suit.” He blinks in surprise and you continue, “do you even have any casual wear? When was the last time you were able to just have a night in and not have to dress fancy?”

His cheeks turn a little pink at that, “it…it really has been a long time.”

“I figured. So, for our first date, you’re coming to my apartment, wearing something casual, and we’re going to stay in and watch movies. How does that sound?”

“It sounds perfect,” he coos as he pulls you in for another kiss.

Steve stood, hands on his hips, staring at his closet for the better part of an hour. Your date is tonight and he’s realized he might be lacking in terms of “something casual”. He’s had to wear suits for so many years that it just became easier to wear them every day, especially if he had an emergency meeting come up. His closet was completely dominated by professional clothes with no denim, khakis or t-shirts in sight. 

Sam and Bucky weren’t being helpful, either. “Seriously, Steve, you know she’s into you,” Sam exclaims. “Stop worrying so much about it.” 

“Just don’t wear a jacket and keep the top couple of buttons undone,” Bucky added. “It’s not quite casual but it’s probably as close as you’re gonna get.”

“How about some of your workout clothes,” Sam asks. “They’re all clean, right?”

“Sweatpants might be a little too casual,” Bucky retorts. 

“Fair, fair,” Sam concedes. “But the shirts could work.”

“Yeah,” Bucky nods. “One of those shirts, not tucked in, and no jacket. That’s pretty casual. Especially for Steve.”

Steve lets out an exasperated sigh and follows their advice. He also makes a mental note to figure out something less formal from his tailor.

When you open the door to your apartment Steve hands you a bouquet of purple petunias and violets. You bounce on your toes a little as you take them from him and gesture for him to come inside. He’s immediately hit by the delightful mix of smells coming from your kitchen. 

“I thought we were going to order delivery,” he comments.

You snort, “ordering out is for when I’m worn out and can’t bring myself to cook. I really enjoy cooking and everything that comes with it. Except for the dishes but thankfully I have a dishwasher.” 

Steve chuckles, “is there anything I can do to help out?”

“Yes, actually. I need a taste tester!” You giggle as you pull him into the kitchen. You set the flowers in a vase and turn back to your cooking. “And thanks for wearing a t-shirt,” you comment. “Now I don’t have to be so scared about accidentally spilling some food and staining your very expensive clothing.”

“That’s why you wanted me in casual wear? If any shirt got stained I’d have just gotten a new one,” he argues.

“Or,” you counter, “you could just have an outfit that’s okay to relax and not a big deal if you get food, makeup or whatever on it.”

He raises an eyebrow, “are you thinking of getting some of your makeup on my shirts?” Heat rushes to your cheeks and you stumble over your words, trying to think of a reply. Instead you dip a spoon into the sauce and ask him to taste test it. He grins wickedly at your deflection but obliges. 

“Mmmmmm,” is his immediate response. “That tastes really good! A nice bit of heat with it, too. What is it?”

“It’s the sauce for some tinga de pollo,” you reply. “So not too much cumin or too little garlic?”

“Not at all,” he affirms. “It’s damn delicious!” 

You squeak in delight and turn back to the stove. You turn off the burners and start dishing up the rice and chicken. “If you need some more heat for it, let me know,” you tell Steve as you hand him his plate. “In the meantime, let’s watch a movie. Do you have any preferences?”

“Umm,” he ponders. “Just no True Crime stuff?”

“Okay! We’re watching Labyrinth, then.”

“A Muppet movie?”

“A great Muppet movie, thank you.”

Steve smiles as you both sit on the couch and you sidle up to him. The food really is delicious and you were nice enough to dish out large portions. Definitely better than a fancy restaurant that serves mostly empty plates. It makes him think about his early career when he was finally able to afford to eat his fill. People were amazed at how quickly he was able to bulk up once he was finally getting enough food. But he had to stop eating his fill in favor of manners and societal obligations. He’s so caught up in enjoying the food he doesn’t realize how fast he’s eaten it until he accidentally brings an empty fork to his mouth. 

“Thank you for the compliment,” you smirk. He blushes and tries to apologize for eating so fast but you cut him off. “Sincerely, Steve,” you comfort him, “I’m glad you enjoyed the food. Would you like some more?”

“Yes, please,” he looks at you so appreciatively you give him a small kiss on the cheek as you grab his plate. He tries to grab his plate back but you put a hand on his chest, to keep him seated. “I can get my own food,” he argues. “You should sit and keep eating.”

“Hmm…” you ponder, enjoying the feel of his chest under your hand. “Okay. But promise me you’ll leave room for dessert.”

“I promise,” he smiles and you hand him his plate back. He comes back from the kitchen with his plate entirely covered with food. You raise an eyebrow and he looks right at you as he starts eating. Figuring he knows what he’s doing you settle in again and get back to the movie. 

When you’re done eating you set your plate on the coffee table and snuggle up against Steve, resting your head on his shoulder. He freezes for a moment but finds himself relaxing into you. When he finishes his plate he sets it aside and wraps his arm around you. Hugging his massive bicep you sidle closer to him until you’re almost sitting on his leg and rest your head on his chest. He gently moves you so that your legs are sitting on his lap and leans his head against yours.

Between the weight of his arm, his body heat and the steady rhythm of his heart you find yourself falling asleep. You try to fight it but then you hear Steve’s gentle snores. Carefully, so as not to wake him, you glance up and smile at his handsome face, more relaxed than you’ve ever seen. You decide to go with it and let yourself fall asleep feeling safe and warm in his arms.

Part 3 -- Part 5

Series Masterlist

Tags:

@alicedopey; @aryhyuuga; @cynic-spirit; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @ktficworld; @rebekahdawkins; @texmexdarling

If you'd like to be tagged, please let me know.

[serahadmoni]

Only in Fire - Outtake - Garrick POV

Teen to Mature for Language

I think this has become more than the flash fic I intended and it is not nearly as eloquent or polished as I would normally prefer. Please accept my paltry offering. Here you go @poppinelle.

**********

One of the most useful pieces of advice my father gave me before everything went to shit was to never insert myself into a dust-up between Riorsons unless absolutely necessary. Matters of state? Yes. Matters of completely subjective but violently held opinion? No. Though I seldom find the need to heed - Bodhi being more Durran than even he would like to admit and thus at least five times less likely to pick a fight than his mother - his counsel makes my life a hell of a lot simpler. 

Most of the time.

Satchel discarded on Xaden’s bed, I go to knee and ease the bottom drawer out of his armoire. 

”You need to tell her,” Bodhi demands with enough of an edge that I cringe inwardly. Apparently we’re doing this. So few things actually rile him up and this, this is what he chooses?

He catches my gaze for a split second and I shake my head, attempting to de-escalate without actively interjecting. Dad never mentioned what he did when held captive for the aforementioned spat. Paperwork, I assume? Mine for the section sits on the corner of a desk next door, so…

No worthy distraction. Check. 

“Tell her what exactly,” Xaden says, and it’s a good godsdamned thing my eyes are averted or he’d give me shit for rolling them. Pretending ignorance only ever pisses Bodhi off. For Amari’s sake. 

The pointlessness of all the sturm and drang, while apparent to me, must escape them. This will go the way it always does. Xaden will refuse to budge. And Bodhi, when he realizes reason isn’t working, will find a way to subvert Xaden’s wishes. Quietly. They’re more predictable than they think.

A chill descends between them, wintry enough to chap my ass, and I busy myself with Xaden’s painstakingly organized pants. If they don’t go back in exactly the way they’ve been extracted he’ll be annoyed and there’s enough of that already going around. 

“About Cat,” Bodhi grits out, the picture of long suffering patience, and I flinch instinctually then heave the false bottom out of the drawer to set it aside. All things considered, he’s doing a bang up job of holding his ground without either condescending or exploding, so I leave him to plead his case. Maybe he’ll have better luck.

The contents of the satchel clank noisily as I tug the bag down to begin unloading, and for a second I can feel the glare on the back of my neck.

Fuck him.

Because of course Xaden, the very embodiment of logic and benevolent reason, decided months ago that Catriona, the betrothal, and the likelihood of getting her emotions forcibly rearranged are not need-to-know topics for Sorrengail. Which, yes, is categorically shitty of him. But as secrets go, the venin might actually kill her. So…

Cat will be bitchy and vicious, not necessarily in that order. But Xaden also values his own life and is too hopelessly fucking besotted to let his ex lay actual hands on Violet. That dagger’s an insurance policy at best. 

Still. Principles.

Not that the stubborn asshole will listen, but points for trying. 

“Why would she need to know anything about Catriona?”

Two blades seated in the compartment.

“Because you’re runing her against Cat’s gift.”

Six.

“And?”

Twelve. My father’s words are all that keep my lips caught tight between my teeth. “Trying to moderate only makes it worse,” he’d said and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Trust me.”

So I become furniture. Silent, irritated furniture. 

“You think she might come for Sorrengail.”

“Inevitably, yes,” Xaden snaps, but then I hear the squeak of leather and a sigh. No impending physical violence then, good. “She said as much in Cordyn. Technically, she said she’d make me pay. Sorrengail is simply the unfortunate collateral damage.”

Exhaustion invades my bones as I notch the last dagger into place and my own personal ember of exasperation flares to life when Bodhi slides the bag from his shoulder, slinging it at me without looking.

Like I’m what, his…valet?

Oh hell no.

I have half a mind to jab him in the back of his knee. No wait, I can still get my short sword unsheathed at this angle. Never tried to shove it up someone’s ass before, but there’s a first time for everything. The mental image of Bodhi pitching face first into the bed mid-argument sustains me as I pack the excess medallions away then slide the false bottom back into place. 

“And you don’t think she deserves to be prepared?”

Godsdamn. Leathers on the right and sparring gear on the left? Or was it the other way around?

No, leathers on the left.

“I am preparing her.”

He isn’t. Hasn’t. Fucking refuses to. Regardless of how often I tell him to get over himself, that our mission, our purpose here means more than whatever bullshit excuses he’s using to absolve himself of the responsibility. Sooner than later, she will end up on the front line, and while I’m the last person who would ever try to add to the inconceivable burden he already carries, that ship sailed as soon as Tairn chose her.

“No cousin,” Bodhi says, tipping his chin in open challenge. “Hate to break it to you, but you aren’t.”

Well, damn. Maybe I was premature in assuming there’d be no physical violence. Reluctantly, I shove myself up, because I have obligations too. Even if satisfying said obligation means knocking their godsdamned heads together. 

For his part, Xaden resettles himself lazily, his tone laced with ice.

“Something you want to say to me, Bodhi?”

Bodhi bristles, his fists clenched at his sides. “She’s not marked, Xaden. She doesn’t owe you anything.” 

And that tactic works less than zero percent of the time. So much for having better luck. I know the smile too, the slow drumming of his fingers. Why the hell would he be baiting Bodhi of all people?

My best friend, the asshole.

“I don’t know, maybe you should ask Oren Seifert’s corpse what she owes me. Or the pile of ash that used to be my fellow wingleader.”

“A life debt?” Color darkens the tips of Bodhi’s ears, his voice pitched high and tight. Damn, if I don’t step in they might actually start throwing hands. And hilarious though that could be, it’s not what we - that collective “we” Xaden should be thinking about - need. “When we both know you were saving your own ass?”

“Bodhi…” I say, and reach out, wrapping a hand over his shoulder to ground him, center him. It usually works.

This time, he shakes me off.

“Be pissed off about Tairn’s decision if you want, not that it will change anything. Keep her out of the revolution, the smuggling operation as long as you can. I get it. But there’s no earthly reason not to prepare her for Cat.” 

By the time he finishes, the flush has migrated into his neck, and weariness wins, loosening my tongue as I snort, “Oh, there are reasons. Just not good ones.” 

Xaden apparently cares an awful lot for someone who pretends he doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks of him. 

Correction, he cares what she thinks of him.

“Fuck you, Garrick,” he spits. 

And I sigh.

[acourtofmarvels]

You Called

Rhysand x she/her POV

Warnings: Miscommunication :D

Word count: 2746

Rhysand watched as she danced under the starfall. Absolutely beautiful. The most beautiful female he'd ever layed eyes on.

She was his mate.

That word seems foreign in his head. 200 years old, he never thought he would ever find his mate.

She didn't know though. The bond hadn't set for her. At least thats what he thought. He'd known for about 20 years now. His brothers had some suspicion but he didn't tell anyone.

He tried for about 15 years to get the bond to set for her. He wanted it to come naturally and not be the one to tell her. It's not the right time, he thought. So he gave it a rest for now.

He couldn't be around her though, so he distanced himself for 5 years. Only approaching or speaking to her when needed.

Her POV

"Did I do something to Rhysand?" It was late at night, Starfall was over. I had drug Mor to stay with me in the House of Wind. Usually we would stay at the townhouse but I wasn't feeling entirely sure I was welcome.

"What do you mean?" Mor mumbled. She was very drunk and trying to sleep. I didn't drink much tonight, which was not normal for me. I always go all out for nights like this like but I had to much on my mind tonight. I couldn't even fully appreciate starfall.

I had a nice night, don't get me wrong. But the whole time I just had this aching pain in my chest I didn't understand. 

"He just seems different. He barely talks to me anymore. Barely even acknowledges me. I don't know what I did..." He can't possibly know. 

"Babe, just relax. It's probably nothing. He gets in moods sometimes." More voice was quiet. I know she was fighting sleep to talk to me. I shouldn't have had this conversation at a time like this.

"Some long ass mood..."

***

"Az! Please wake up! Open your eyes, Azriel." I shook his shoulders. We had been shot down from the sky. When he hit the ground he was knocked unconscious. Even with the ash arrow through my wing I was still able to land.

We had been on a mission for the past 2 weeks. We were flying home from Spring Court when multiple ash arrows started flying through the air. Azriel blocked most of them from me but I still got shot. I couldn't grab him in time before he hit the ground.

It was night time. I could barely see anything through the trees and the dark sky.

I could hear footsteps and voices getting closer. I must protect Azriel. I'm wounded but I won't go down without a fight.

I needed to get help. I covered Azriel's body with my own as I closed my eyes. Rhys. I wasn't sure if I could reach him from this far. Rhys I need you. What if he has me completely blocked out? Rhysand please, they're coming.

The footsteps were close. I pried myself off of Azriel, pulled my sword off my side and stood up straight. My body ached. I could feel the poison from the arrows weakening my body, making me sicker by the second.

I think I blacked out, fighting these people, whoever they were. I didn't stop, couldn't stop. My body was drenched in their blood, or maybe it was my own blood.

I was overpowered. Knife to my throat. This was it. This is where I die. I can't save Azriel. I can't save myself. Killed by men in masks.

"Cowards," I choked out, blood dripping from my mouth. "Show your faces."

"Illyrian scum." The one holding the dagger to my neck said viciously. "Don't worry. We'll send your wings to your High Lord. Then we'll take his when we-" his sentence was cut short by his head coming off his body.

I gasped as the dagger nicked my neck slightly. The rest of his men began screaming loudly, holding their heads as they all fell to their knees. Then, absolute silence. And they were all dead.

I turned around quickly, still on the ground to see who killed my attackers. I let out a sob as I saw his familiar, piercing violet eyes.

He was on his knees before me, taking hold of my face in his hands. He looked over at all my injuries.

"You came," my voice failed me. I was holding onto him for support. I knew I was about to lose consciousness from the ash poison and the loss of blood.

"You called. Of course I came. What happened?"

"Azriel, you have to take him. Take him home now, Rhys." I pleaded with him, tears I had been holding back began to roll down my face. "He's hurt. I couldn't wake him up. Take him, please."

Rhys whipped his head over to Azriel who was unconscious in his own puddle of blood. I was praying that he was just unconscious and not...

"I'll be back for you." Rhys placed a kiss on the top of my head before he picked Azriel up in his arms and winnowed away. 

He's gonna be okay. He's gonna be okay. He's gonna be...

I'm not sure how long Rhys was gone. Minutes or seconds but I was growing tired. My body was failing on me. I was defeated. The poison was still in my system. I had to stay awake.

"Keep your eyes open," the order was from my High Lord. Not my Rhys. 

"I'm tired Rhys." He picked me up off the ground. I wrapped my arms around his neck weakly. 

"You're gonna be okay sweetheart. We're home now. Just keep your eyes open." I could hear other voices around me. I could recognize Madja's voice. But I was only focused on Rhys. He set me down on a bed and began to walk away. 

"Please don't leave me." I held onto his hand tight. His promise that he would never leave me was the last thing I heard before I finally slipped into sleep. 

That's me. Why can I see myself sleeping? Is this a dream?

"She's okay, we've got her." I looked around the room, Madja was by my beside working her magic to heal me. 

"What the hell happened?" My line of vision went to Mor as she burst into the room. My heart was beating so fast, anger coursed through my veins. 

"Keep your voice down." That voice rang in my ear as if I just spoke. Rhysand. Rhysand spoke. Where was he? "They were attacked outside of Summer. They're okay."

I was looking at myself again. Aching sadness and guilt ran through me. No. No this wasn't me. This isn't what I'm feeling. I see myself through Rhysand's eyes. These are Rhy's emotions I feel.

His emotions were overwhelming. Everything he felt for me was maxed out to 100. He felt sick. Guilt was the most I could feel. Then sadness... Anger... Regret.

He felt guilty for not getting there sooner. For not being able to protect his brother and me. Sadness for the state we were both in. Anger for the men who hurt us. And regret for not making them suffer longer. 

Mor was talking to Cassian. I could hear their voices but I couldn't make out what they were saying. Rhys was tuning them out as he watched my sleeping figure on the bed. His thumb rubbing circles on the back of my hand. 

Theres something else here. I can feel it within him but... but I don't know what it is. 

I finally awoke hours later. That was such a weird dream. Or at least I thought it was a dream until I looked to my right and Rhysand was sitting beside me. His hand was still holding onto mine but he was fast asleep. 

He didn't leave. He stayed like I asked. He looked cold. I should give him my blanket. 

I barely moved a centimeter in my bed before Rhys woke up. "Are you okay? What's wrong?" He moved closer to me. He placed a hand on the side of my face gently as he looked me over. 

My whole body warmed to his touch upon my cheek. He was so close. 

I opened my mouth to speak but my mouth was far too dry. Rhys noticed immediately, using his magic to bring me a glass of water. "Here." His voice was so soft as he brought the glass to my lips so I could drink.

I was trying not to laugh at his protectiveness. I know he was worried, had been worried. But I'm alright now. I wanted to tease him but maybe I'll take this attention some more.

"I'm alright," I assured him. I took the glass from his hand and placed it on the nightstand after I took another sip. 

He kept looking me over. I was sore but I know my wounds have healed now. 

"You can go now, I wouldn't want to bother you any longer." I tried to remove my hand from his but his grip only tightened. 

"You could never bother me," he sounded hurt by the word I used. "And I'm not going anywhere."

Damn you heart. Don't flutter now. You can't do this.

I tried to slowly inhale and exhale out my nose, trying to calm my breathing. He can't know how I'm feeling. He can't know that I'm his mate. 

"Azriel, is he alright?" I tried to cover up my nervousness by thinking of something else. Why does he keep staring at me?

"Azriel will heal, it will just take longer for him. But he'll be back to himself in no time." 5 years. This was the longest conversation we had in 5 years. He pushed me away right after the bond snapped for me.

I honestly didn't know how to react after it. It was so unexpected. I had know Rhys for so long, he was my family and my best friend. Why did it take so long for this apparent bond to snap into place? Was the Cauldron playing a game with us?

I'd always had a little crush on him but always pushed it aside. Falling for my High Lord? It was embarrassing. Everyone in Velaris most likely had a crush on him. How could you not? Have you seen him?

He still hasn't let go of my damned hand. Gods, it felt like my hand was on fire. 

There was silence for so long. Rhys wasn't looking at me. He stared down at our conjoined hands. His brow furrowed as he was deep in thought.

"You seemed surprised when I arrived. Like you expected me not to come help you." He seemed angry.

My face heated up in embarrassment. "I-I just didn't think you would be able to hear me from so far away."

"No, that's not it. You expected me not to come to your aid. Why?" 

I was flustered. I hated he could read me so well. My shields were always in tact so I knew he wasn't in my head.

I tried to pull my hand away but his grip only tightened. "Let me go." He of course let go at my wish. 

"Why did you think I wouldn't help you?" His voice raised slightly.

He would keep pushing if I didn't give him an answer. He had no right to be mad at me. I should be mad at him. "Because you have been cold! Distant! Did you know this is the longest conversation we have had in nearly five years? I did expect you not to come. You hardly speak to me and when you do, you answer with one worded responses. You avoid me. Do you think I haven't noticed when you make some sorry ass excuse to leave when I enter the room? I don't know what I have done for you to dislike me so. So sorry for expecting you to not come to my aid when i ask of you."

I was furious. If my body wasn't so sore and tired I would have stormed out of the room dramatically. Now it's just awkward because he is sitting there not saying anything. Not denying it either.

"You think I dislike you?" His voice was so quiet I almost didn't hear it.

"Why else would you ignore me?"

He looked like he wanted to say something else but he bit his tongue. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair. "You are not ready for that answer."

So he admits it. He has been pushing me away. Purposefully it seems. The answer 'I'm not ready for'. Asshole.

I hated myself for the tears that weld up in my eyes. My mate doesn't even want to be around me. 

"You don't get to decide what I can and cannot handle." I looked away from him, crossing my arms over my chest.

"This isn't easy for me." Gods I wanted to punch him so bad.

"I have zero pity for you. Must be so hard pushing someone away who has done nothing but love you." I was already humiliated enough, why not put a cherry on top. Might as well tell him how I feel.

"No, no. Don't say that. You don't love me." He was pacing back and forth in front of my bed now.

"Of course I love you. I have loved you even before we-" I was the one who bit my tongue this time. 

His eyes bore into mine. "Before what?"

Can he really not feel it? This bond between us? I feel it in every bone in my body. From the bottom of my feet to the top of my wings.

"Before what?" He almost yelled.

"Before we were mates!" I yelled back at him. "There! I said it! Are you happy now? Get the fuck out!" I threw a pillow at him.

"How long have you known?"

"Get out, Rhys! I don't want to have this conversation right now." I threw another pillow at him. It was all I had around me. He caught it and threw it at the wall behind him.

"Goddamit it, Y/N! How long have you known?"

"5 years. 5 years of feeling this bond with someone who has given me the cold shoulder."

"15 fucking years I tried. I tried 15 years for the bond to set into place naturally for you and of course the second I stop trying... The moment I stopped putting myself through all that pain and decide to give you space it fucking clicks."

I think my heart stopped beating for a second. I was temped to reach my fingers to my neck and check my pulse to make sure I hadn't died.

"What?" I almost didn't even hear my own voice.

"I've known for 20 years that you're my mate and loved you for even longer before that. Guess the cauldron really wanted to fuck us over." He walked back over to the side of the bed and sat back down in his original spot. He let out a sigh of defeat. 

"How could you not tell me?" Tears rolled down my face. 

"You didn't tell me either..." I almost rolled my eyes. I had my reasons, I wanted to know his. He must have picked up that I wanted a legitimate answer. 

"I... Wanted you to love me, for me. Not because we were mates." He looked down at his hands folded in his lap.

"Rhys..." I pleaded him to look at me. "Rhysand." He lifted his head finally. "You're my best friend. I am lost without you. Sometimes I-I feel I cannot breathe without you. My heart beats for you," pushing through the pain I moved to the side of my bed. I grabbed his hand and placed it over my heart. "It has always beat for you."

"You are my everything," he replies, taking my own hand and placing it upon his heart as well. It felt as if our heart's were both beating erratically in sync. He leaned forward till our foreheads were pressed together. My eyes closed on instinct, the tears still rolled down my cheeks.

"I thought I lost you. I have never been more terrified in my entire life," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly.

"I am here." I pulled away only an inch. I placed my other hand on the side of his face, beckoning him to look my in the eyes. "I am not going anywhere."

"I love you with everything that I am. I cannot live without you. My heart calls your name." He wiped the tears from my face before pressing our lips together.

Acotar Masterlist

[fictional-orphan-smackdown]

Round 2, match 1!

All propaganda and what each competitor is from under the cut

Peter Parker/Spiderman (He's from a lot of things)

Orphaned twice over

Both of Peter's parents are dead so he's raised by his aunt and uncle, his uncle dies as part of his origin story. His aunt often dies eventually too, but she may come back depending on continuity (ex. Peter in the comics made a deal with the devil to sacrifice his marriage and child to bring Aunt May back)

It’s Spider-Man guys. Coolest guy ever.

The Baudelaire Orphans (A Series of Unfortunate Events)

The epitome of orphans, they’re the best

“I’m having a very terrible childhood right now”-Klaus

The story deadass begins with them being told that their parents died in a fire and that they're orphans now. They then bounce from guardian to guardian who tend to always meet a gruesome fate at the hands of Count Olaf. Not only have they been orphaned once, but have been orphaned multiple times and are called "The Baudelaire Orphans" by not only characters in the book but by the narrator himself. They're called "The Baudelaire Orphans" so many times that it might as well be a defining character trait of theirs, and honestly it sort've is. The series doesn't even end with them finding a home or guardians of any kind, it ends with the Baudelaires fate being completely ambiguous with them literally sailing away from the island they were stranded on in the final book (yeah this series is quite the journey, I highly suggest it). These poor three kids are probably the most orphaned kids of all time since their orphaned in a new way almost every book and they deserve at least one win in their unfortunate tale.

These guys are like the poster-child of orphaning, we open the series with them finding out that they're orphans and also have no access to their money so now they hop around from place to place from weirdo caretaker to another weird/crazy/murderous caretaker and it's all fun and games and murder and decieving and surviving and thriving and---my point is, these three are a wonderful trio of siblings who love and rely on one another through all their trials and tribulations.

Literally every single one of their problems come from being orphans. They’re continually referred to as orphans and the plot of the first half of the series is them being shuffled around to guardians.

These kids are so orphaned they never even get a found family outside themselves. At least most stories featuring orphaned kids see them fulfill some sorta epic destiny or have them find a new home or set of loved ones of sorts. The Baudelaires? They're thrown from one fucking failure of a home into the next, ignored, hunted, etc.. It's been years but like, even in the end, they still have to set sail alone. As individual characters, they aren't bad either. Violet's the dependable big sister who's knack for inventions comes in handy, Klaus is a well-read chap and Sunny is a lovely gremlin. They make a good trio.

Every single guardian they try to obtain throughout the series turns out to be someone who wants the large inheritance left for them and is willing to do whatever it takes to get it.

They basically fend for themselves the whole series when no adult will listern to them. The whole series is them being resourceful and clever the whole series despite the misfortune. Violet is a brilliant inventor, Klaus reads and collects knowledge, and Sunny learns to be a good cook over the series

their parents die tragically in a fire and then everything awful proceeds to happen to them

I haven't read these books in years but if any orphans deserve to win a smackdown it's these fools, they are constantly in the trenches in those books goddamn. Also that baby is like a shredder they have that on their side, I think that beast literally solo'd a snake?

(This one was specifically for Klaus, but I'll put it here still) He and his sisters being orphans is kinda the point. As in many books, it's the trigger for them to change lives and navigating hardships. The thing is, their hardships just grow worse and "unfortunate" (read "dreadful") events keep happening to them as they stick together instead of the story getting better. Klaus and Violet become Sunny's subtitute parents and get through their more and more miserable lives together keeping hope things would eventually get better

Arguably more famously orphaned than Bruce Wayne, if not for how their story happens while they’re orphaned children versus an orphaned adult. Definitely have the most famously tragic post-orphaning story. All three are incredibly brilliant in their own way, including the literal baby. Pursued relentlessly by the leader of a maniacal theater troupe and letdown by a slew of adults, so it’s all the more impressive how amazing they each turned out to be. Book series was so good it got turned into a pretty great movie and then a successful TV show years later. Also can’t forget how these three are orphaned repeatedly as the distant relatives who take them in get killed off in increasingly inventive manners. Let’s be honest, ain’t no characters out here orphaning like the Baudelaire orphans.

this series taught me so many cool words and phrases and I love each of the 3 main characters so much

Violet, Klaus, and Sunny are peddled from caretaker to caretaker over the course of 13 books, always being chased by the evil Count Olaf who wants to steal the Baudelaire fortune that the children are meant to inherit once they reach a certain age.

Spoilers ahead, the Baudelaires siblings story starts with them going from being the Baudelaire kids to the Baudelaire orphans, after their parents pass away in a mysterious fire. But they arent the only paternal figures that they lost, they go from tutor to tutor, almost all the good ones dying in front of them, and even the ones that survive at first their future is uncertain since the last time the kids see them they are blindfolded in a burnind building, and we never found out who make it out alive and who didnt. Even the main villian, Count Olaf their first tutor, and the only constant adult in their life after their parents death ends up dying in front of them. These three are orphans ten times over.

They are THE orphans. They have lost not only their parents but multiple guardians that they went to live with as well.

They're THE Orphans. The childhood book orphans we all read, Orphans Prime if you will. They lose their parents, every caregiver who's ever kind to them, then say fuck it and live on a deserted island on their own to raise themselves abd fully embrace their orphan status. On the island, they learn their parents survived the shipwreck then died again - double orphaning even.

OH MY SWEET LITTLE CHILDREN THAT FUELED MY LOVE FOR READING AND THE MACABRE Violet- Won her first of many invention competitions when she was five with an automatic rolling pin (comprised of a window shade and six pairs of roller skates). Extremely innovative and genius, foiled by her kindness to others. And she knows how to make a Molotov cocktail. Klaus- Absolute monster of a bibliophile, conducts research for fun, and has a photographic memory. He is known to want nothing more than "a good book, a comfy chair, and the warm glow of a reading lamp". He also is a Herman Melville fan, which is points for him in my book. Sunny- Most people know her only for her penchant for biting, but Sunny is a distinctly distinguished character. She has sharp wit (as long as you can read it through her babbles), her poker skills are phenomenal for a baby, and she has quite the knack for cooking! Also yeah, the teeth. She climbed an elevator shaft with them once.

They are constantly going through it, give these kids a break for real

[dorkasdaydreams]

My Treasure

Juliana/Kieran (Pokémon Scarlet & Violet)

Summary:

After a couple of months pass during Uva Academy's Treasure Hunt, Juliana has found her treasure! She shows Kieran, who was definitely not expecting what the "treasure" turned out to be...!

Word count: TBA

A/N:

This is the first fanfic I've ever published, so any constructive feedback on how I could improve is greatly appreciated. I've got some more Dipplinshipping goodness cooking in the back, so be on the lookout for that! :3

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

"This looks like a good spot, Kieran! I'll get the ingredients." "O-okay! I'll set up the table."

Juliana and Kieran were on a cliff in Apple Hills that overlooked a vast field. The hills were blooming with lush vegetation, and several Applins were rolling about playfully as the two Trainers set up their picnic. It was the last day of Juliana's second visit to Kitakami (and her friends' first), and she had asked Kieran earlier if they could have a picnic at Apple Hills between just the two of them before she left.

He wondered why she would have made such a request as he sat down with her. The pair agreed on the fillings; they would make a sweet & slightly sour fruit sandwich with apples as the main attraction. Once it was complete, Juliana cut it in half and handed one to her companion.

After the former and current champions ate their fill, Kieran remembered his thought from earlier.

"So, why did you ask me to come here with you?" "Oh! Here..." She pulled out a flat, rectangular box tied with a shiny blue ribbon and handed it to him. "What's in here?" he asked.

She smiled as she replied, "Do you remember that "treasure hunt" my school had? The one I was still on when I met you?" "Yeah, you've talked about it before. What about it?" "Well...I found my treasure!"

Kieran's eyes lit up brighter than the Terastal phenomenon. "W-wowzers! That's awesome, Juliana!" He paused for a second, looking at the box. "...so, is this it? Is your treasure in here?" "Yep! I wanted you to be the first one to see it! C'mon open it up!"

"O-okay!" He set the box down & carefully untied the ribbon. His hands trembled a bit as he lifted the white cardboard lid and set it down on the picnic table. "Woah...!" His jaw dropped upon seeing the contents of the box.

In Kieran' hands was a splendid, dazzling mirror encased in a shimmering crystal frame. It bore the clearest reflection of any mirror he had ever seen. It was so clear, in fact, that he thought he was looking into an alternate universe. He subconsciously glided his thumb over the surface to reassure himself that it was still just a reflection.

"Wowzers..." The former champion couldn't muster any other words in that moment with how stunned he was. A soft giggle beside him snapped him out of his short trance. "I take it you like my treasure?" Kieran was a bit confused, but he answered her nonetheless with a question of his own.

"Yeah, it's cool an' all, but why is your treasure a mirror?" Juliana seemed taken aback by his response, and she snorted a bit as the poor boy looked on in even more perplexity. "W-what? Did I say somethin' dumb...?" The current BB League Champion shook her head. "That's not it at all! Sorry, you just caught me off guard! I guess I should've expected that you wouldn't get it..."

"What do I not get???" he asked, his curiosity piqued. Juliana smiled and replied, "The mirror itself isn't my treasure, Kieran." "It's...not? T-then why'd you-" "It's what's reflected by it."

Dumbfounded, the young Kitakami native blinked in slight disbelief. "Okay, well, what exact thing are you referring to??" She put a hand on his shoulder. "Think about it, Kieran! What was the first thing you saw in that mirror when you held it up in front of you?"

Kieran had to take a moment to re-trace his steps. He held the mirror up once more, staring into the gleaming glass. As his own glossy golden irises stared back at him, the answer finally dawned on him, clearer than the trinket's crystalline frame.

"Me...I'm your treasure...?" He looked back at her in awe. Juliana nodded and giggled nervously as her cheeks tinged pink. "Yeah, you are!" She threw her arms around him and pulled him close to her, which he could not resist as he did the same.

The two nestled into their embrace as they quietly watched the stars dance in the night sky. Suddenly, Kieran broke the silence. "H-hey, so...does this mean you're my treasure, too?" Juliana looked a bit taken aback, but she smiled nonetheless and responded, "If that's what you want, then yes!" She nuzzled the boy's nose with her own as the two Trainers laughed softly in each other's arms.

When the time came to go back, they packed up and walked towards Mossui Town as their fingers intertwined. They stopped by Kieran's house first since it was the closest. As the former BB League Champion walked toward his front door, the current Champion stopped in her tracks. "Oh! I almost forgot..."

She took out the exquisite glass and handed it to him. "This is for you! I'll always be able to see my treasure, even without a mirror. You, on the other hand, won't be able to unless you have one." When she said that, Kieran stood there frozen and unsure of what to do. Juliana replied, "I-if it's too tacky, or if you're scared of breaking it, I can buy you a cheaper one-" "No! No, it's fine!" Kieran took the mirror from her hands and smiled. "I'll take good care of it! If it gets chipped or anything, I can fix it! Grandpa's been showin' me how to repair crystals."

"That's amazing! You'll have to show me sometime." "...I will one of these days. I promise."

With that, the two embraced their most precious treasures once more.

[ghuleh-recs]

★ Ghost Fandom Fic Rec Tag ★

VERY annoyed about the anon hate I’m seeing in my favorite writers’ ask boxes lately. So! I thought I'd live up to my username. Let’s appreciate some amazing writers and rec some fucking fics.

Rules (re: loose guidelines)

Pick some fics from your AO3 bookmarks or your likes/reblobs here on tumblr, and post them with links and a blurb about it. Maybe a summary or just a reason you liked it. As many or as few as you feel like sharing. Then, as one does, tag your friends.

This is a ZERO pressure tagging situation—if you’re too busy or don’t feel like participating, no biggie at allll. Let’s just spread some love and positivity shall we?

I’ll go first (some slightly spoiler-y descriptions ahead):

[REC] and 1080P by @st-danger We've got some absolutely delicious vulnerable Dew x completely smitten Swiss right here. Long story short, they send a video of Dew in panties to Aether. These are scorchingly hot. Part of Saint’s Kinktober series—which you better subscribe to if you haven’t already.

This Swiss x Aeon stoned hand kink ficlet from @crimsonclergy actually set my brain on fire yesterday. So there’s that.

This fic from @riconas featuring insecure Dew knotting Aether. A little desperate, a little mean, a LOT sexy.

A Touch Too Much by @miasmaghoul Hey have you ever wondered what would happen if Dew went into heat during a ritual? And how he might react to Papa singing about daddies and caressing him during KTGG? Hmm? You ever wonder about that?

It would tear me apart, it would haunt me forever (so much you'd never get to know) by @littlemoon-beam oh boy this is some stunningly good Dew angst. This fic will hurt your feelings and then you’re gonna thank Moon for it. She really blasted into this fandom like the Kool-aid guy and we are honestly so hashtag blessed for it.

Now for some reader-insert if that’s more your style.

Misaimed Desire by @violet-lazer Whoops. You accidentally texted Secondo something saucy and he summons you to his office. Whatever will he do to you? Part of her excellent First Kisses: Papal Edition series. Terzo is next so y'all better subscribe.

Banchetto by @angellayercake This. This right here is the good shit. Terzo is wasting away, not handling life after the Ghost Project well at all. Primo and Secondo enlist your help seeing as you’ve got some serious cooking skills. This is gorgeously written with some god tier slow burn and eventual smut. It’s a WIP but the most recent chapter is super satisfying, don’t you worry.

The Cardinal's Bride by @ramblingoak If you’re not following along with this, you’re REALLY missing out. This is pure bodice-ripper GOLD. Some of the most satisfying slow burn I have EVER read. I reread the whole thing every time Oak drops a new chapter.

The Prince by @kissingghouls Vampire!Terzo x slayer!reader need I say more? I am loving the latest installment of Suck Club (you should really read them all). Terzo is pathetic and wears crop tops and it has me actually kicking my heels and giggling as I read.

One last thing:

Leave a comment on ao3, or reply/reblog (with tags) here on the hellsite anything you enjoyed that someone else recommended. I dare you. The author might even reply and you’ll feel oh so special.

I tag: @littlemoon-beam, @rightintheghoulies, @myghemicalghostmance, @angellayercake, @ramblingoak, @neekocalico, @kissingghouls, @stede-bonnets and anyone reading this that also enjoys fanfic. Yeah you. I’m so serious. Don't test me, boy.

(Feel free to tag me back because I have soooo many others but this already got way too long.)

[alterrune]

(Before we begin, shoutout to @johnlocsin-johnyakuza for giving me the idea of screenshotting the ask to use in the mobile app! Thank you for saving me from risking my parents demanding this askblog's deletion.)

(Now, let's finally return to the story this askblog was made for, shall we?)

CHAPTER 3, ACT 7: THE ABYSS RETURNS

(For this mission, we decided to use some of the weapons we got from the Splatoon world instead of our usual weapons while undercover, as using them is much more efficient then trying to attach a silencer to some of them. Instead of ink, however, they're filled with sea anemone venom from, you guessed it, Harmony.)

(Well, more accurately, the others are undercover. I decided to stay back and do some hacking on the security systems, linked up to them via earpiece.)

Remember, grab the intelligence. Grab it and get out of there.

Yes, Kyle. Don't worry, we know what we're doing.

(An alarm suddenly goes off, however, before I can turn it back off again, it shuts off only a few seconds after being activated.)

(Suddenly, Terence's voice is heard over the intercom.)

"My apologies, everyone. My feckin' elbow slipped and hit the emergency alarm button on accident. There's nothing to bloody worry about, so just ignore the false alarm and keep workin'!"

(He'll know how wrong he was soon enough.)

(THIRTY MINUTES LATER...)

(Violet, using her Sniper Walk exoskeleton ability to teleport, teleports everyone outside the building, having sucessfully inked all the cameras [after I temporarily shut them down, of course] so no trace of our involvement was recorded. Also, Harmony's venom is non-lethal, but can incapacitate someone from causing severe itchiness. Chemical skin rashes are a bitch, but they can come in handy at times.)

Great job, everyone aaaaaand you forgot to grab the intelligence, didn't you.

Alter, you said you had it covered.

(Alter throws his hand up into the air, and suddenly, the sound of an ink mine exploding is heard from within the building, with the intel being flung out of the building and landing directly in Alter's hand, completely unharmed and unpainted by the ink.)

I did. I just set up some ink mines. They're invisible to everyone except the person that set them up, so I used them to extract the intel right from the source.

Alter, you magnificent bastard. Now hop in the car, let's get outta here!

(We all hop into the car, with the mission a success. The CSB is back, motherfuckers.)

CHAPTER 3, ACT 7 COMPLETE!

DISPLAYING EPILOUGE...

(Terence and Jerry Grey are seen in the room where Alter set up the ink mines, spitting out anemone venom all the while.)

Of course those feckin' bastards are back. And of course they'd strike when I finally let my feckin' guard down. Jerry---

Sir, if I may, could you call me by my full first name?

Agh, fine. "Jericho", could you help clean up this mess and find the note those bastards left me?

Of course, sir. By the way, why are you always in such a bad mood whenever the CSB is involved?

Ain't it feckin' obvious? That Alter kid was supposed to be dead when the Wall staff came in.

Wait...sir, you don't mean to tell me...?

That the person who ratted the Toppat Clan out and got the Wall to raid the tavern that night and kill Clarence was me? That's right.

Wait, sir...you died before then. How is that possible?

The Toppat Radicals, my group, they've been around ever since the Clan killed me originally and let Reginald in. They still thought my way was the better way.

Some of them learned some ways to communicate with the dead from ties to the now-defunct Heaven Incursion group, which is how they got in contact with me.

I gave them the order, and they got a lot of Toppat Clan members, including Clarence Cross, killed. And I thought that Alter kid died then as well, but it looks like the only thing the Wall did was damage his eyes.

I think that the one who killed them was using a poisoned blade, and that poison was the cause of his tritanopia color blindness. Normally, color-blindness is something you're born with, but in Alter's case, his irreversable colorblindness is because of a poisoned blade making a gash in his eyes.

Suprised he was able to make a full recovery, but his eyes weren't completely sliced open, they only got a single gash. It ain't impossible, just really feckin' hard to do.

(Grey, holding the note, just stands there in awe.)

FECKIN' EARTH TO JERRY GREY!!! DID YOU FIND THE NOTE YET OR NOT?! ON YOUR BLOOMIN' FEET!

OH! RIGHT! Yes, sir, I found this while you were monologuing.

At least you had the courtesy not to interrupt me...let's see what we've got here...

(Terence grabs the note from Jerry [now known as a short form of "Jericho"], and begins reading it.)

-🔺💜🔵💕✍🏼-

Heya, you big bastard! Been a while, hasn't it?

Well, we're back, and we're ready to finish the job.

We've got a lot more stuff at our disposal since last time, so we hope you're ready for it.

With all the hate we can possibly muster,

Kyle Gibbons ✍🏼

Alterrune 🔺

Violet Wolfsbane 💜

Henry Stickmin 🔵

Ellie Rose 💕

-🔺💜🔵💕✍🏼-

(Terence crumples the note in anger, before turning to Jerry.)

Yes, sir?

...Oh, forget it. I don't even have the energy to get angry at this. Jerry, before we plan our next move and replace the guys we lost, get me a feckin' aspirin, would ya? I feel a massive headache comin' on.

Sir, yes, sir!

-🔺💜🔵💕✍🏼-

(Back at the base, we've been watching the security cameras, and Alter begins shaking in anger.)

So...not only is he responsible for my dad's death...but he's also responsible for my colorblindness...?

(Alter shoots the television, doesn't stop shooting until his gun begins clicking from being out of ammo, and finally throws the gun directly at the TV, resulting in it exploding. He picks his gun back up from the remains of the TV [which, thankfully, wasn't our only surveilance monitor, we have TONS more], holsters the gun, and...I have never seen him so angry before. His eyes seem to have been replaced with candy-red flames, with the power of the Alterrune strongly eminating from them.)

HE IS A FUCKING DEAD MAN. I WILL NOT REST UNTIL I SEND HIM BACK TO HELL WITH MY OWN BARE HANDS.

END OF EPILOUGE