#so she comes over and is like ‘take those gloves off and dance with me cowboy’

[kindaasrikal]

The ninja only ever wear their gi unless necessary. Such as a super fancy event (dancing with your husband in a dance lesson), its their work uniform, or for undercover work.

So thats why I like to think they just don’t prefer modern clothing anymore, which then led me to think how they would react to wearing more impractical clothing.

Kai wearing heels is something we all think he would be good at, but thats only after MONTHS of practice, and only because it was to better his balance. The second he has them on he’s trying to rip them off because feet are not supposed to bend like that. Bros stumbling, bumbling, and tumbling for weeks trying to figure how the work. And they ain’t normal heels either. They’re those tall thin ones, so maybe possibly he broke his ankle ten times. The problem was how he tried to act like he had it everything under control. As if he doesn’t need help picking up something heavy on the ground, or like he doesn’t need the walking stick Nya lovingly bought him. He did like showing them off though.

In some cultures, dresses can be incredibly heavy with the amount of fabric, jewels, diamonds whatever on them. When Nya has to go undercover at a wedding to protect the guy getting married, she had no idea a dress could weigh so much. That, plus the heels and jewellery, made it sooo much worse. She tripped multiple times, didn’t even attempt trying to use the stairs, and just sat in a chair in a corner near the guy she’s supposed to be protecting trying to resist the urge to itch her back.

Cole isn’t a small guy, but he isn’t super big in some areas either, so buying clothes in general that aren’t his gi is an impossible task unless he’s allowed to go tits out. Give him pants? It’s over the second he bends down. A small shirt? Just go shirtless at this point. A big shirt? Where are his arms. He even has massive feet, so its makes shoe shopping horrible for him because toes shouldn’t squish like what.

Zane…doesn’t like shirts. He’s fine with his gi tops because they’re easy to put on and off, they’re breathable, and they’re stylish. Give him any modern stay shirt that isn’t for some sort of uniform and he’s ripping it off and hissing in a fridge. However, Zane also dislikes purses. Any other bags are fine, but purses are just so annoying to him because either they’re too small or too big and in the way. The small straps also keeps getting into the little gaps on his body and its annoying.

Jay hates long socks and gloves. Long socks are such a pain to handle, he once had to stop a mission five times in the winter to pull them back up because God it doesn’t feel nice having them bunched up like that. He also hates gloves because electricity comes out of his damn hands, it causes this irritating sensation on his hands that gets worse until it almost hurts, so he takes them off and flings them at Lloyd’s face because he likes having free hands thank you.

Lloyd had a completely opposite problem to the ninja at first. He wouldn’t wear anything put his hoodies when he first became a ninja until he had to when he aged up. Ain’t no way did they have the money to buy Lloyd new clothes in the middle of a crisis. Then, later on, he would be very comfortable wearing any clothes as long as it’s considered some sort of uniform. Outside of that though, he hates anything with buttons on them. They’re so annoying to button up and then try unbutton and he has delicate hands okay, he doesn’t wanna mess them up more than they already are. He also has a hate love relationship with zippers because they’re fun to use but he may or may not haven’t accidentally broken the zip every time.

Is this me writing all this because i wore tall heels for the first time today? Yes it is.

[mariatesstruther]

hey @clickergossip and @becomethesun im thinking about how my preschoolers had a valentines day dance where we had parents come and dance with us to songs that the kids chose. also thinking about how how toddler sarah and ellie would definitely choose the BEST songs

the other kids are choosing songs like let it go, we dont talk about bruno, and pup pup boogie from paw patrol. meanwhile ellie chooses “we belong together” by mariah and sarah’s chooses “at your best (you are love)” by aaliyah

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Neon Moon

Azriel x Reader/Rhysand’s Sister - Angst

Rhysand’s sister grapples with a one-sided mating bond that has yet to snap for the Shadowsinger. When a drunken night brings the two closer together than ever, Azriel is made aware of a circumstance that could change the course of her life.

This is a one-shot that is able to be read as a stand-alone fic.

This is also a prequel to Wicked Felina and elements of this prequel will be involved in the remainder of the series. Wicked Felina Part 5

Warnings: Sexual content, alcohol, language, age difference concerns

Y/N - 19 Years Old

When the sun goes down on my side of town, that lonsesome feeling comes to my door.

Pretty moans echo through the walls of the House of Wind only broken by an ocasional deep groan.

I roll over with an aggravated sigh, pulling an overstuffed pillow across the back of my head, covering my ears. Not that it will do any good. Curse being High Fae and the exceptional hearing that comes with it.

I lay awake, taking deep breaths, trying to sink into the starry depths of my mind but Azriel’s hook-up of the week lets out a particularly loud cry of pleasure before her moans are muffled by what I assume is a gloved hand and a low reprimand.

I roll my eyes. He may as well chide her with a warning of “Shh, don’t wake the baby.” by the way he treats me.

Never mind the fact that I am an adult now. I have tits for cauldron’s sake, nice ones at that. I wouldn’t be wearing this oversized, ridiculously soft knit sweater if I didn’t.

And yet he still views me as a child.

It’s cruel to think that on my eighteenth name day, a golden thread snapped. Tethering my soul to him… and yet, he has no clue. That, or he does, and has no intention of acting on it, refusing to view me as anything other than the little sister of his best friend.

I’ve got a table for two, way in the back where I sit alone and I think of losing you.

So I grin and bear it. And if I happen to wear clothing a bit too cheeky when he is around and other males inevitably gawk at my exposed skin, thus prompting the overprotective bat to shuck his sweater off and toss it to me, and then I spend the rest of the night drinking him under the table? Well, that will have to do for now. So, I wait for the day his soul is ready to seek mine.

Y/N - 21 years old

He’s watching her again. He always does. She dances through the room like petals on a breeze, enamoring the crowd with vivacious conversation as she skirts throughout those gathered in the room. How will I ever compare to the radiant and lovely enigma that is THE Morrigan? I shouldn’t feel bitterness toward my cousin and yet I do. I get why people flock to her, she’s kind and lovely, strong, somehow both approachable and unobtainable. She’s a total pain in my ass busybody cousin-acting-as-older-sister I never wanted.

I requested that the band play Azriel’s favorite song tonight. The one time he’ll loosen up and let himself enjoy a moment. It has become a routine, our dance. The one time that he holds me a little closer. The one time I can pretend he sees me as the mature female that I am and not the child I was.

But tonight, the song plays, and it’s Morrigan in his arms, not me. It’s not the first time he’s chosen her over me. When she’s here, I don’t exist.

I can’t stand it anymore. I can’t watch this.

I spend most every night beneath the light of a Neon Moon.

I turn to leave, exiting the hall, winding through the crowd of pompous nobility from all courts. The garden. I’ll find solace in the garden, beneath the glittering stars, among the fragrant blooms. Sneaking down a quiet corridor and out a shadowed alcove, a guard opens the door for me and the warm, lavender scented breeze greets me like a friend. My steps fall swiftly, distancing myself from the evening revelry. As I wind down a path of blooming roses, a loose stone causes my sole to slip, bracing myself for the fall and the sting of rock to my palms. Instead, I am shocked to feel warm, strong arms catching me. Looking up at my savior, a few long golden locks of hair fall over the concerned, emerald green eyes staring down at me.

Y/N - four months later

“Shit, Shadowsinger. You look like you could use this more than me.”

The start of a grin tilts the left corner of his lips upward as an incredulous laugh slips from his throat. Reaching a scarred hand toward the bottle of my brother’s finer wine and swiping it from me.

Azriel’s hazel eyes assess the bottle, giving a raise of his brow. “Looks like you’ve done a number on this one already.”

“I never do things halfway.” I tease. Giving a nod toward the wine that was indeed half-empty. His dark brows rise again as I unveil a second bottle before he could remark on it. “Some Spymaster you are. You should’ve know I’d come prepared with the best selections from Rhys’ secret-” The playful jest is interrupted by the tickle of a shadow trailing up my arm and spiriting the second bottle right out of my hand, eliciting a pout of my lower lip.

“Hey, now that’s just greedy.”

The handsome planes of Azriel’s face illuminate in the twilight, causing my heart to stir. Perhaps it’s the way the night shrouds him in ominous twilight, or the way his shadows sit strewn across his shoulders but I know tonight was hard for him.

Mor had shown up to dinner as radiant as ever, a red dress clinging to her delicious curves, some male she’d picked up at Rita’s on her arm.

Now if you lose your one and only, there's always room here for the lonely

I should leave him alone but I can feel it in my chest. Stoic and broody? Yes. A lonely soul? Also yes.

And damn, do I know I deserve better than to be the female that will never be chosen first? Yes. And yet, he’s my mate and more importantly, my friend.

“Scooch over,” my arm waives in a correlating gesture. “This grass is dewy and cold and this dress is far too thin. Your leathers can handle the chill, I’m stealing your warmth.”

With a small shake of the head, a lock of raven hair falls over his forehead, Azriel scoots, exposing the vacated patch of grass for me to sit on. “Gods, it’s still chilly.” I complain as I swipe one of the bottles back from the Shadowsinger.

“Nobody asked you to come out here.”

“And yet here I am.”

Azriel eyes meet mine, a small flicker of emotion passing behind them. “Yes.” He whispers fondly. “Here you are.”

I ignore the blush threatening to redden my cheeks and fire back at him. “Your breath smells like a vineyard. You’d already gotten started on the drinking without me?”

Recognizing the rhetorical question for what it is, Azriel presses his lips to the bottle, tilting his head back as he takes a long swig of the bittersweet wine. My breath catches as a harsh swallow bobs his adam’s apple. Heat pools through me and I quickly turn away, searching for something, anything to distract from the effect he has on me.

To watch your broken dreams, dance in and out of the beams of a neon moon

Shadows dance around us, like figures on the wind, weaving in and out of the moon’s luminescent rays.

“Y/N…” I turn to face him as a scarred hand reaches for me before seemingly thinking better of it and pulling back. “I didn’t dance with you at the ball.”

It’s my turn to laugh incredulously. “That was months ago Azriel, why bring it up now?”

That peculiar flicker of emotion crosses his eyes again.

“I’m sorry.”

I pause, taken back by the apology. Had he known how much it hurt to see him dancing with her? Thinking on it, I can’t seem to grasp whether it is better or worse that way.

I freeze, grappling with emotion as he ruffles his hair with a scarred hand, dragging his palm over his face. “Y/N. The conflict that wars within me, it’s… .”

Confusion conveys on my features and I resist the urge to dive into his mind and read exactly what he’s thinking. “What?” I ask as his sentence trails into a void of lost words.

He shakes his head as if he’s already pushed whatever he was about to confess aside. Hurt washes through me and I begin to turn away. A broad, calloused palm grasps my wrist. “You’re beautiful, Y/N.” He leans closer, his wine addled breath mingling with my own, only centimeters separate his lips from mine.

I think of two young lovers running wild and free. I close my eyes and sometimes see you in the shadows.

I’m certain he can hear my heartbeat as it roars through my ears. My eyes flutter looking into his heavy-lidded hazel and onyx eyes. His head tilts, low voice barely more than a rumble.

“You’re everything.”

Azriel inhales, his gaze searching mine in a silent ask of permission, preparing to close the hairs-breadth of distance between our lips. Suddenly those lust-addled eyes go wide, nostrils flaring, and he abruptly pulls away, swiping my bottle of wine as he withdraws his hand. “You don’t need any more of this, Y/N. Go to bed.”

My mouth gapes slightly, processing what just happened. “What?”

“It’s late and I have to leave for a mission for your father in the morning.”

He stands straight, stretching out his tall body and those glorious, broad wings, stiff from sitting on the ground.

My heart is crushed, once again. The words that could change it all sitting on the tip of my tongue.

You’re my mate. You’re my mate. You’re my mate.

But his feelings for my cousin still run strong and we have centuries ahead of us. I refuse to be in second place.

Azriel extends a tanned arm to me, eyes now softened, a slight crease between his brows as he takes me in. “Come on, Y/N. Let’s get inside.”

Taking his extended arm, we walk in silence through the grand entryway of the House of Wind, winding down the corridors within, stopping at my room, I murmur a rushed “goodnight.” before escaping behind the shield of my door, to the quiet lonesome solace of my room.

I sense Azriel’s presence outside my latched door for several moments before his steps pad down the hall opening the door one down from mine, into his room.

No telling how many tears I've sat here and cried, or how many lies that I've lied telling my poor heart he’ll come back someday.

Azriel

Azriel couldn’t take it. The way the walls closed in around him. Sleep was always just out of reach but tonight, he felt the weight on his chest in a crushing embrace.

If you lose your one and only, there's always room here for the lonely.

He’d spent the past few years dicking around, ignoring the shift he’d felt toward Y/N. For fuck’s sake, she was Rhysand’s little sister, barely an adult. She’d always gravitated toward him in her childhood. Looked up to him. And he cared so deeply for her, like a little sister. And then soon after her eighteenth birthday something began to shift in his chest. Something that he felt so incredibly wrong for feeling - and yet something he’d buried deep within begged him to accept that it was right.

He was a bastard for it and latched onto his feelings for Mor even harder, despite the fact that they’d simmered down in previous years. And then Y/N had changed her demeanor toward him and he knew- gods, he knew she wanted him but he couldn’t do it. Rhys would kill him for it if her father didn’t first. It was so wrong.

And it had gotten harder and harder recently. He’d brought females home, spent more time around Mor when she’d visit, anything to push her away without actually owning up to what his feelings were.

And then Mor had shown up on a whim tonight with some male that she’d picked up gods knows where, he couldn’t even fall back on clinging to her, leaving him forced to face how strongly he felt toward Y/N, so he’d indulged in booze and snuck out to sit beneath the moonlight and drown in his own pool of self-pity.

To watch your broken dreams dance in and out of the beams of a neon moon.

When she’d found him, any semblance of willpower was gone. Y/N was a goddess beneath the moonlight. Kind, strong, intelligent, and so damned beautiful and, out here, it was just the two of them. So, he’d finally given in. One kiss, one kiss would help him see how wrong this was. And yet as he leaned in, all he could feel was how right it seemed to be.

Until he’d inhaled, taking that final breath of courage to close the distance. That’s when he smelled it, the shift in her scent. Her scent was there but there was something somewhat familiar and earthen intertwined a scent so light and sweet, almost like roses. A scent that was not her own, not of her.

She was pregnant. He had no idea by whom but the realization sobered him up entirely. He swiped her wine and panicked. Did she know? Should he say something? Instead, like the older brother figure he’d once viewed himself as to her, he escorted her into the house and told her to go to bed, ensuring to keep the alcohol out of her reach.

Gods, he didn’t know what to do from here

He spent the rest of the night flying, taking in the stars and the moon as they shone brightly above, ethereal just like her.

He’d go on his mission this week, and Y/N and her mother would travel to the war camp that her father was at to visit him, and when she came back he’d talk it all out with her.

Yes, he’d support her and love her however she needed to be, whether it be as a friend, as chosen family, or as something more. It would all work out. It had to.

Come watch your broken dreams dance in and out of the beams of a neon moon.

————————————

Although this is a one-shot, it is also the prequel to Wicked Felina, you can read Part 1 here.

Tags

ACOTAR general: @lilah-asteria @thecollegecowgirl @mochibabycakes @nickishadow139

Wicked Felina tags: @glittervame @julesofvolterra @saltedcoffeescotch @candyjaypoppins @st4r-girl-official @nocasdatsgay @gxdsmonsters @honk4emoboyz

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 158 }

penpal.

academy arc

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

were you going crazy?

what was up with those shadows surrounding your classmate?

settled off to the left side of the classroom, you watch sung jinwoo from your periphery, seeing what looked liked dark wisps surrounding the entirety of his form. the boy was simply reading the pages of his textbook, yet something about him terrified you.

you weren't sure just how long you had been staring at him, your gaze following the tiny wisps of shadow as it seemed to dance around him-

before stiffening when your gaze met with his cool, grey eyes.

becoming paralyzed, you found that you couldn't look away from him, with jinwoo gently flashing you a kind smile. he opens his mouth, ready to greet you when four rowdy classmates interrupts him, surrounding his desk as low chuckles echo throughout the area.

you wanted to call out to them, to somehow warn them-

but no words could come out.

"wow, you're a big shot, aren't you? wearing that glove and all."

"why are you only wearing it on one hand, though? is there a black flame dragon in it or something?"

"ughhhh, my hand!! the black flame cow in my right hand is roaring-!!"

the four males began to laugh incessantly, making your anxiety shoot through the roof. you trail your gaze over to his gloved hand...

"hey, look. take off your glove. let me try it on." one of the boys demanded, further making you anxious at what was to come.

jinwoo remains silent, completely unfazed by these goons who were trying so hard to intimidate him. you had to fight back a grin, feeling the tiniest bit of admiration despite the anxieties you held for him.

"bastard, are your ears stuffed or something? why aren't you replying when we asked you to take off your glove?"

"what is it? do you have a tattoo on your left hand or something?"

jinwoo lets out a huff in response before taking off his glove, revealing a severely burned hand. your throat was felt clenching up in response once more when you caught a glimpse of his scars-

scars that appeared like deadly spiderwebs against his pale skin-

scars that were certainly not normal.

"what? never seen a burn wound before?" jinwoo's voice retained its tranquil quality, causing a wave of discomfort to be seen across the four rowdy students as they each clicked their tongues in utter disgust and disdain.

"we were just joking around, why get all serious?"

"just wear that glove again, i'm scared i'll get nightmares about it."

"FUCKING DISGUSTING."

you watch as the four boys proceed to exit the classroom, only to see a flash of purple from your periphery as an invisible force made them freeze before tripping over the doorway, landing headfirst into the floor (the sudden impact causing the students who were currently out in the hallway to laugh at them).

your heart was racing, nearly stifling you with its anxious beats when you look back at jinwoo to see him smiling at you. he calmly meets your gaze for a brief moment before giving you a wink (acting like he had shared some inside joke with you), catching you completely off guard.

he turns his attention back to his textbook and continues to read, sometimes sneaking glances at you while keeping that knowing smile on his handsome features, making you purse your lips in response.

looking away from him, you pretend to look down at your own handwritten notes, yet the sensation of his eyes being on you never seemed to cease.

{ ... }

the discomfort and anxiety you felt each time you sat next to jinwoo became too much to bear when you asked to switch seats with another girl from your class.

of course, she hadn't the slightest clue about the general offness seen with jinwoo. you knew that all she saw when it came to jinwoo was a cute boy that was top of the class.

but no one ever did notice the strange way his eyes seemed to glow-

how his mannerisms and style of speaking were a tad bit too mature for a mere teenager-

or how there were an almost constant presence of shadows surrounding him.

admittedly, sung jinwoo freaked you out.

even now, when you were literally three desks away from him, you swore that you could feel his piercing gaze against your back.

and you didn't know what you could have possibly done to have warranted such attention from him.

only when class had ended were you finally able to breathe, knowing that jinwoo had track for the next couple of hours. he had already left the classroom when you slowly began to pack your belongings together. adjusting the blouse of your uniform, you brush back your hair and begin making your way to the library to find a few good books to read before heading home.

the moment you stepped into the room filled with books, you let out a happy sigh. breathing in the fresh scent of pages, you eagerly step into the library and head to your favorite aisles.

fantasy... romance... mystery... gahhhh there's so many good books to read! it's a shame we can only check out 4 books at a time...

you think bitterly to yourself, taking a few books off the shelf when a flash of purple catches your attention. with a tilt of your head, you look out the window to see jinwoo settled directly below you. he was taking casual sips of his water all while sneaking glances at you from his periphery.

you pout, resting your free hand against the glass, gaze narrowing down at him. jinwoo realizes that he had caught your attention, fully facing you now as he lifted up his hands to give you a tiny wave. the suddenly soft and sweet action was enough to make the heat grow against your cheeks, with you unable to ignore the gesture as you wave back at him.

his smile was enough to distract you from the lengthening of your shadow made in response to the setting sun, distracting you from seeing the several, glowing purple eyes that remained hidden from within its dark depths.

{ ... }

the morning you came into your school, you saw something fall out of your locker, making you question how such a note could have gotten into the metal compartment.

for starters, it had a lock on it-

a lock that only you had the key to.

so just how did this folded note even reach you?

you shake your head and ignored all logic when it came to how you had gotten this note, proceeding to unfold the piece of paper as it read:

your eyes and smile are really beautiful. tell me, are you seeing anyone right now? ( s. monarch )

your throat turns dry upon reading the note, making your heart race in response.

was this person... actually flirting with you through a note?

and just what kind of nickname was s. monarch?

was this guy just really cocky or something?

yet, even knowing that this note was kind of cheesy, why did it succeed in making you smile?

you look down at the page to see that it had plenty of space for you to write your reply. trying to hide back your grin, you take out your favorite pen and decide to write:

thank you for your compliment. i am not seeing anyone at the moment, but i'm curious- who are you?

you sign off the note with your full name before placing it back within the confines of your locker, somehow knowing that your face was completely flustered right now.

your good mood had dramatically increased, and you found yourself looking forward to talking to this new penpal of yours.

{ ... }

your eyes and smile are really beautiful. tell me, are you seeing anyone right now?

thank you for your compliment. i am not seeing anyone at the moment, but i'm curious- who are you?

ah, i'm sorry, i can't say. it would ruin the mystery :)

mystery?? why would you wish to keep your identity a secret, monarch?

i have my reasons. besides... i want to use this chance to get to know you better.

may i ask how you're able to read and place new notes within my locker?

nope, sorry. it's still a secret ;)

ugh, you're kind of annoying, monarch -_-

i've been called much worse. :)

{ ... }

you spend the next couple of weeks exchanging notes with monarch, giggling each time he asked questions about you, like wanting to know your favorite color-

favorite books-

favorite foods-

just, anything and everything that made you who you are.

while you answered each of his questions, you would read his own responses pertaining to his own personal interests.

you could say purple and black are my favorite colors.

i wasn't much of a big reader before, but i'm enjoying a lot of murder mystery books. maybe you can recommend me some other good novels to read?

my favorite foods are pretty much anything that my mom makes, haha, but kimchi stew and bulgogi beef are my personal favorites.

altogether, he seemed like your typical, teenaged boy. the conversations you had with him remained light-hearted and fun.

but that all changed when you received today's note within your locker during your lunch break:

what do you think of sung jinwoo? i notice you tend to avoid him a lot.

your eyebrows furrow in response to his question, wondering why monarch would even care about how you felt when it came to jinwoo. however, you were always honest with him before, so you saw no reason to lie to him now.

you truly want an honest answer? well, to put it bluntly, jinwoo terrifies me. there's just this... really strange and dark aura about him? yet no one seems to notice it but me. sure, he's plenty polite on the surface, but... i feel like there's more to him than meets the eye. it's almost like... he has some secret, one that no one can understand, but keeps well hidden? ah, sorry, i am well aware that i am not making any sense, but it's how i really feel. jinwoo makes me feel anxious.

after finishing your note, you place it back within your locker before walking back to your classroom.

somehow, you couldn't ignore the sensation that you were missing something vital...

that there was some connection you just weren't seeing when it came to monarch and sung jinwoo...

{ ... }

your heart was racing when class ended for the day, and you wondered if monarch had already sent you a reply. with a noticeable bounce in your step, you go to your locker and unlock it, seeing a brand new note settled atop your various notebooks.

meet me at the library after school.

a painful clench was felt at the base of your throat, with you picking up the single note, your hands trembling as you fought to calm down. letting out a deep breath, you close your locker and brush back your hair, holding monarch's latest note close to your chest.

were you getting nervous?

why did your legs feel stiff and heavy all of a sudden?

with each step you take, getting oh so much closer to the library, you swore that your heart was going to choke you with its rapid palpitations-

praying that you wouldn't suddenly die of a heart attack, you open the door to the library-

only to see a lone figure standing in front of the window. the setting sun shining directly in your eyes made it difficult for you to see who it was, giving you no choice but to come closer to the person.

wiping away the tears from your eyes, you stepped closer and finally saw just who monarch truly was-

letting out a gasp when sung jinwoo himself was looking at you with those same, glowing eyes.

"you... you're monarch?!" that was all that you could manage, the anxiety immediately becoming worse as your heart continued to beat faster within the confines of your chest.

a rich chuckle escapes from his lips, "indeed, i am." he confirms your suspicions before taking a step closer to you.

jinwoo seemed unaware (or perhaps he just didn't care?) about your mounting discomfort and anxieties, still coming closer to you as you continued to take several steps away from him.

only when your back met with one of the sides of the bookshelves did you finally stop, with jinwoo smiling down at you. he places his gloved hand against the shelf, trapping you against him.

with his free hand, he gently traces at your bottom lip, making your breath hitch in response. despite how much of a nervous wreck he made you, you couldn't ignore the sudden warmth you felt spreading across your veins at the look of adoration he gives you.

"you have plenty of good reasons to fear me, i'll admit, but... is it really just fear and anxiety that you feel for me...?"

his whisper was almost seductive, trailing his fingertips down your features before gently grabbing a hold of your chin.

"or have you mistaken your anxieties with feelings of love for me, too?"

your breathing comes out in uneven breaths, and you could feel your cheeks further heating up in response as your heart skipped several beats-

"wait, you said too, did you just hint that- that you feel love for me?"

jinwoo's glowing purple eyes became alight with amusement as he gives you an eager nod. "obviously, these feelings of mine have only grown since the moment i saw you again..."

you became speechless then, watching with bated breath when jinwoo inches closer and closer to you, "despite how long it's been for me, you have not changed... not even a little bit, sarang."

your knees immediately become weaker when jinwoo calls you by that sweet term of endearment, and you nearly fell to your knees when he finally kisses you. his arms were kept locked around your waist, kissing you with a fervor that made you feel oddly nostalgic-

perhaps you had no reason to fear sung jinwoo after all; especially with how addicting his kisses had quickly become to you.

a.n. - and we are so back with the fluff i have always loved writing about! i am so happy, passing a really difficult final exam as i look forward to the rest of my academic year 😭 so i decided to write another jinwoo story!

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[cutiecusp]

Edelweiss

König x Royal! Reader

(Part two of the Regency AU!)

A Royal visitor from Austria looms over the Ton, and you were the reluctant head of the welcoming committee.

TW/ Regency inaccuracies, soft!König. a kiss (or two)

"Why me?" You ask, as your mother informs you of the evenings plans.

"Because, dearest, you are newly presented to the ton, your sisters are either married off or unavailable." Your mother, the Queen, replies.

You roll your eyes, you had planned on attended the ball, but making a quick escape while you could. You always felt overdressed and stifled in your role, and loved nothing more than to be outdoors in the garden.

"Besides, i hear the King of Austria is looking for a wife," She adds, making you grimace.

Looking for a husband was never expected of you. You were a princess, and it was deemed for you to marry a King when the time was right, but that didn't stop your mother trying to encourage a love match.

Your parents were fortunate, an arranged marriage, but also a love match, if you and your five siblings were to be believed.

You look up from your vanity, eyebrows raised.

"Surely not, Mother. I'm not even sure we speak the same language." You respond, rather crudely.

She just smiles and busies herself with your hair, brushing and pinning it away from your face.

"I hear he is over 6 feet tall, and is an excellent shot." She continues, weaving a braid along the crown of your head.

"What would we have in common?" You ask, picturing a tall behemoth.

"Love works in mysterious ways." Was all she replied.

A few hours later, you find yourself in the ballroom, dressed up like a Christmas tree, opals in your hair and around your neck specifically for your guest. Standing with a glass of lemonade, you hear the excitement as the King is announced.

You had heard he was tall, but you hadn't expected just how tall.

Striding across the ballroom, his eyes were on yours only, pale grey eyes boring into yours.

He greets you with a nod.

"Prinzessin."

"H-hello, Your majesty." You choke out, putting down your glass on the table, before offering your hand. He takes it, and proffers a brief kiss on your gloved hand.

"Forgive me, but i am not the dancing type." He says, a rough accent to his words.

"May we be chaperoned to somewhere quieter, ja?" He asks, his head bent over your smaller frame, looking at you, deeply.

You smile and nod, and urge your maid, Mary to chaperone you both outside. You lead him along the gravel path, the only sound is your footsteps in the cool breeze of the night, leaving the partygoers behind. You stumble and you feel a strong hand grip your upper arm, preventing you from falling, His body close enough to yours to cause whispers in society.

"Are you alright, Prinzessin?" He asks, concern written over his features, the heat of his hand sizzling over your cool skin. You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Your voice trapped as his gaze holds yours captive.

You simply nod, and right yourself again, pulling your gaze away from his, and softly moving away, maintaining a space worthy of all those etiquette books you grew up reading.

You definitely weren't thinking about how his touch sent a lick of heat to your lower belly, or how you wondered how his lips would feel against yours... Or why you suddenly were a shy thing, unable to talk.

You walk into the gardens, along the rose bushes, and floral centerpieces you were so proud of, the scent of flowers permeated the air.

"We have beautiful flowers in my homeland." You hear him say.

"Edelweiss is what we are known for the most. Had i known there was a garden like this here, i may have brought some for you." His gruff voice almost the opposite of the rumours you had heard.

"Maybe i shall visit one day." You reply, plucking a few straggly flowers from the path.

"You would be welcome, When your Mutter had written to me, inviting me here to court you... I had-" You cut him off.

"My mother? What has she-" realisation struck.

"Shes matchmaking, isn't she." You realise, understanding blossoming through you.

König has the grace to blush, and avert his gaze.

"When i had heard of the Prinzessin who loved flowers and was rumoured to be extremely intelligent, and beautiful, i had to see for myself. no?" He continued, his eyes flashing dark.

"And the rumours were true, my little wildflower. You are radiant."

Your breath catches in your throat, unable to look away, you stand there, holding the flowers to your body.

"W-well, thank you, your majesty. But i must say-"

"Permit me to kiss you, Prinzessin." He asks, not letting you finish the sentence.

"If its our duty to marry, then we must see if we are compatible in other ways. no?" He takes a step further to you, hidden by the garden wall, your gaze flicks to your maid, who quickly turns around, but not before you can see a smile on her face.

You nod, cheeks aflame.

"Liebling, i need words, please."

"Y-yes, kiss me, please." You whisper, your voice low enough for only him to hear."

He cups your face, cradling your cheeks in his rough hands, his eyes searching your soul as he lowers his lips to yours, brushing over them softly.

You make a small whimper in the back of your throat, body singing with passion, as he explores your lips, opening you up to him like a flower on a sunny day.

Steadying your hands on his hips, you wait until he pulls away slowly.

Regaining your senses, you open your eyes, your cheeks pink, and your eyes wild with lust.

You feel his hands enclose around yours.

"Very compatible indeed."

a/n. i liked that this one was a little bit longer than a drabble. i didn't want to follow too similarly to Daisy But i wanted a little cutesy/ soft vibe. I hope you like it! and a mega thank you to you beauts liking an commenting, it makes my day!

@xoxunhinged @misshugs @soraya-daydreams @shadowdark00 @rynbeerose @enjisbf @frudoo @muneca-lemon-steppa @yesornowaitidontknow @thevoiceinyourheadx

[hvlplvss]

| welcome to the moulin rouge

summary: in which colby’s girlfriend stars in the hit broadway musical, moulin rouge. with little knowledge on the musical, he’s surprised when he first watches it.

warnings: smut, dirty talk, fingering, shower sex, praise, slight degradation, cream pie, hair pulling, slight edging. lmk if i missed anything !!

authors note: for those who haven’t watched moulin rouge, i recommend searching ‘welcome to moulin rouge-west end cast’ to get an idea about it. but if you don’t want to, it’s a musical based on a cabaret club and y/n plays one of the main girls from the club. i highly recommend it if you have never watched it!

y/n had recently been casted as ‘nini’ in one of her top three musicals of all time. moulin rouge. ever since the musical had come out, she’d adored it. knowing that she would love to be in it herself one day.

and that day was here. it was the opening night for the new cast of moulin rouge. she was also performing amongst some of her most favourite broadway performers.

her boyfriend colby and his best friend sam, who she were also really good friends with, had bought tickets for the first public opening show. they decided they might as well buy the most expensive tickets, which were the ones right at the front of the stage, where you got your own little table for two.

in true honesty, y/n had barely spent any time with colby recently. she’d been so busy at rehearsals and taking promotional pictures. so the only time she saw him, was once she arrived home, which was usually later than 11pm.

the boys sat at their table at 7:28pm, waiting for the show to begin. sam turns to colby, “so you have no idea, what this show is about?” sam asked.

colby shook his head in response, “nope. i’ve watched loads of other shows with y/n, but she won’t let me watch this, cause she wants me to see her in the show first,” he explained. “have you seen it?”

sam nodded, “yeah. y/n told me to watch it before we came to see this,” he answered. colby rolled his eyes, but a small smile stuck on his face. but he was slightly confused. how come sam could watch the movie, but he couldn’t?

the lights slightly dimmed, taking colby out of his confused state. aaron tveit, who y/n had spoke about, walked out onto stage and past the two boys, where he stood to the left of them.

aaron looked around the audience, then he looked back to the bright glowing red ‘moulin rouge’ sign. aaron lifted his hands slightly and the sign lifted up, clearing the view of the stage. the music began, a low thudding noise, with a drum every few beats.

aaron disappears off of stage, and a spotlight flashes on the back wall, where there is a silhouette of four girls. colby could recognise one of them immediately.

‘hey sister, soul sister, flow sister’

the curtain they were standing behind lifted, revealing his girlfriend. colby’s eyes widened in shock at what his girlfriend was wearing.

y/n stood there in barely any clothing. it was all lingerie. black to be specific. her hands and arms adorned red velvet gloves which stopped at her bicep. she wore black stockings, which were connected to the black corset like bodysuit by a thin piece of fabric. the corset revealed a great deal of cleavage, and left little to the imagination.

as the four stepped forward beginning to dance, colby didn’t know what to do with himself. his girlfriend dancing half naked on stage in front of hundreds of people.

the dance was as sexual as you could get, grabbing onto your own waist, dropping to the floor. doing anything that was vaguely provocative. and colby still didn’t know how to react.

what really riled him up though was when another character came on stage, someone called ‘the duke’ something like that anyway, colby wasn’t in the right mind set to even focus on that.

y/n had gone over to said character, and in simple words, had to rub herself against him. colby’s eyes stared dead at y/n. he wasn’t mad or annoyed. but he was so jealous.

the interval had just begun and colby still couldn’t stop thinking about you. sam spoke up, “you good there, colby?” he asked.

colby nodded, looking over to his bestfriend, “did you know all about that?” colby questioned.

“what your girlfriend being half naked on stage?” he answered, colby nodded, “well yeah, she’s been showing me behind the scenes things for ages. she wanted all of it to be a surprise for you,” sam added. colby hummed in response, turning back to look at the stage as the show resumed.

colby and sam walked out of the theatre and round to stage door, to meet y/n after the show. when they arrived there was a slight crowd stood there, asking for photos and signatures and what not.

y/n was amongst them, signing playbills and taking photos with fans of the show. colby and sam stood back from the crowd, allowing y/n to take her time. but colby didn’t want to wait. he was desperate for his girlfriend.

after what seemed like forever, the crowd had dispersed, meaning y/n could make her way over to the boys.

“there she is!” sam smiled, hugging y/n and telling her congratulations. she thanked him and then turned to her boyfriend.

y/n reached to kiss colby on the lips. and just from that, she could tell. she knew colby was riled up. y/n grabbed onto colby’s hand, as sam led the way to the car.

the three arrived home not much later, as they opened the door, y/n spoke up, “i’m gonna go shower real quick,” the boys nodded and y/n ran off upstairs.

“i’m probably gonna go to bed now,” colby stated, “it’s already pretty late,”

sam nodded, with a slight eyebrow raise of disbelief. he knew his friend wasn’t going to sleep, he knew exactly what was going on with the boy. but he wished him a goodnight and walked off into the kitchen.

colby walked up the stairs and into his room. he could hear the shower running from the en-suite, which was connected to their room. he could also hear y/n’s light humming of some of the songs from the show.

colby began undressing himself and walked into the shower with y/n. “you know, what you did to me, y/n?” colby suddenly asked.

y/n jumped in shock at the boys voice, “shit colby, you scared me,” y/n smiled, turning to face her boyfriend, taking him all in.

“you know, how i felt? when i was sat there watching you,” he repeated, “seeing you dance against everyone,”

y/n bit her lip, trying to hide her smile. but colby could tell. it was a habit she always had.

“you think it’s funny? that your boyfriend was sat in the audience with a hard on?” he asked seductively, “it won’t be funny soon,” he said lowly.

colby grabbed his girlfriends cheeks and brought his lips to hers roughly. he held her face with one hand and her lower back with the other.

colby wasn’t playing nice at all. the rough yet passionate kiss was clear enough to say how frustrated he was.

colby’s mouth left hers and began making it’s way down her neck, biting harshly, causing y/n to let out a whimper. “come on, let me hear you,” colby said.

y/n had only seen her boyfriend like this a couple of times. usually when he’s jealous or wound up by something.

“don’t tease, baby,” y/n pleaded.

colby hushed her, “i’m taking my time. just like how i had to sit there for two whole hours, watching you dance about with barely anything on,”

colby grabbed her tit, going back to roughly kissing his girlfriend. y/n let out a moan, but it was sealed by colby, who’s mouth covered hers.

colby let go of her tit and reached down, letting his fingers cascade down y/n’s sides. she arched into his touch, “so needy,” colby spoke against her lips.

his fingers finally reached where she needed him the most. his thumb pressed firmly on her clit, rubbing in circles.

y/n moaned out, leaning her head on colby’s chest, letting the water from the shower run down her back. colby removed his fingers, causing y/n to let out a small whine.

“you’re such a desperate whore, aren’t you?”

“only for you,” y/n answered.

“only for me, huh?” colby smirked, “you’re mine, aren’t you.” y/n nodded, “say it, y/n. say you’re mine,”

y/n removed her head from colby’s chest and looked him directly in his eyes, “i’m yours, colby,”

colby nodded in approval, “good girl,” y/n’s head went back onto colby’s shoulder, as two of his fingers pressed inside her cunt, stretching her out.

y/n stifled a moan. as her boyfriend worked his fingers inside of her, she latched her mouth onto his lower neck, causing colby to groan.

she littered dark purple bruises across his neck and chest, admiring her work after each one. she knew he’d eventually get her back for the mess across his neck as he couldn’t show it all over social media, or else people would talk.

colby could feel y/n approaching her orgasm, so he removed his hand. causing y/n to remove his mouth off of colby, “what-”

colby hushed his girlfriend, “want you to cum at the same time, baby,” he answered.

he aligned his cock with her pussy, letting it glide against her folds, teasing her.

“please colby,” she begged.

“awh, you’re begging now? that’s cute,” he answered.

colby slid his cock in slowly. y/n moaned out and colby let out a low groan, watching the pleasure that washed over his girlfriends face.

he wrapped one arm around her waist and placed his other arm on the back wall of the shower.

after a few seconds, colby began moving his hips. snapping up into y/n, causing her to moan out loudly. her arms clung onto colby’s shoulders, staring directly at him.

she grabbed onto colby’s wet hair, and slightly tugged, causing the boys head to loll back.

“you getting close?” colby asked. y/n nodded, her bottom lip coming between her teeth, “thought so. feel so tight, baby,”

y/n pulled colby in by his hair to kiss him roughly, which made him speed up his hips. colby mumbled against her lips, “cum for me,” he looked at his girlfriend, who stared directly back at him.

colby felt y/n release around him. he wouldn’t last much longer himself. his hips stilled, realising himself inside of y/n.

after a few moments, he removed his cock from her. placing a kiss on her forehead and then a soft one on her lips.

“you okay?” he asked.

she nodded, “are you?”

“i’m more than okay. and i’m so proud. so incredibly proud of you,”

“well, if when you come and watch me perform and it ends up like this, you might have to come watch me a few more times,”

[xxsycamore]

MIRROR, MIRROR

╰┈➤ ❝I'll be your mirror tonight, El. Everything you want to see yourself do to our dear Robin, I'll do in your stead. You needn't lift a finger. If you end up displeased with what you see, we can call it all off. If she ends up piquing your interest, she's yours for the taking, practically untouched - all of me that would ever come to contact with her is those gloved hands, see? We can simply pretend my ministrations never happened, in either one of those scenarios.❞

Elbert Greetia x f!Reader; Alfons Sylvatica x f!Reader • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Guided Touching; Voyeurism; Strip Tease; Dom/sub Undertones; Vaginal Fingering; Dirty Talk; Come play; Masturbation; Come Marking • wordcount: 2,164 • masterlist

Visions of Temptation 2024/KINKTOBER DAY 3: Guided Touching

"Come on, little Robin, take a little walk around the chair, don't be shy. Show off your goods to El."

The sound of your heartbeat drumming in your ears is audible despite the presence of two other people in the room. They stay quiet while you circle the chair positioned in front of the bed, only the cackle of your dress slippers' short heels could be heard as Alfons instructed you to leave those on.

Besides the shoes, you ended up keeping your underwear on as well. Not that it helps you feel any less naked, with the two pairs of eyes following your every move. Alfons appears quite relaxed, choosing to rest his elbows on the back of the chair you're parading yourself around until you're done. It's emphasizing the fact that you're not of interest to him, as a man. He's looking but without lust in his dark daze. Your seductive dance has another kind of worth for him, and every other second his eyes dart to the bed instead. Elbert sits there, at the very end of it, his long legs crossed at the ankles while he props himself on his arms behind him. You can't decide if he's relaxed - though you can see that his stance does nothing to mar the usual elegance he carries himself with - or if he's bored with you. His face tells you nothing, but you can't meet his eyes anyway, not when you feel so naked under his gaze. You just know he's staring. And that's enough. That's why you are here.

"You're quiet, El. She's dying to hear what you think. To hear what you want her to do next."

"I want to see more. Take it all off of her."

Alfons chuckles at the fast response, straightening up and moving in front of the chair, touching your arm to lightly pull you in front of him. His gloved hands caress your upper arms before they disappear behind your back to unclasp your bra.

"See, El? It's way better to undress her bit by bit. Had we rushed in like you asked to, you wouldn't have had the chance to enjoy this sight, would you?"

Your lacy bra is now held by nothing but Alfons' hands as they move to the front and over the two cups. He takes them off of your chest, one after the other. Slowly. You can tell the hardness of your nipples just by the sensitivity you feel when they get exposed to the cool air. Is that a good enough sight for Lord Greetia?

You should be more thankful for the fact that Alfons allowed this to happen in the comfort of your own room. A drop of familiarity among the ocean of shiver-inducing anticipation. No, you should be thankful for having been given this chance at all - to Elbert for agreeing, and mostly to Alfons, who put the wicked plan together. He'd surprised you firstly with the reveal that he knows about your feelings for lord Greetia. Secondly, with the exact thing he proposed for the sake of winning his heart. In order for your beauty to be noticed by Elbert… you'll reveal all of yourself tonight. He wouldn't want to touch something that is not beautiful, it only makes sense that you'll need the help of someone else who can bring that beauty out of you. That's what Alfons said.

He arranged for the three of you to come here, pulled the chair in front of the bed, instructed Elbert to sit at the end of the bed; he said so many words that still echo in your ears.

"I'll be your mirror tonight, El. Everything you want to see yourself do to our dear Robin, I'll do in your stead. You needn't lift a finger. And the best part, she said she's completely yours to order around, you have her full consent to do whatever you wish with her. Isn't it exciting? If you end up displeased with what you see, we can call it all off. If she ends up piquing your interest, she's yours for the taking, practically untouched - all of me that would ever come to contact with her is those gloved hands, see? We can simply pretend my ministrations never happened, in either one of those scenarios."

Cold leather creeps on the skin of your hips, slightly squeezing the soft skin, showing you off. His thumbs masterfully hook up the sides of your underwear on their way down, dragging it lower and lower until it unceremoniously falls down on the floor. And thus, you're nude in front of Elbert's icy gaze. But you know there's more to be revealed of you - Alfons practically promised - so you gulp down, frozen but excited, praying for him to do something already.

The dark-haired man remains behind you, so close you can see the pointed tips of his well-polished shoes on both sides of your own feet. Your feet are all you’ve been looking at. He doesn't even see the front of your body like Elbert does, but he's so much closer to you. Despite having familiarized yourself with his touch so far in the act of undressing, it comes as a shock when his right hand falls directly over your hot center. You can't help the gasp falling from your lips as Alfons's index and middle fingers part your labia, showing as much of you as he can.

"Do you like what you're seeing? How is she down there, El? Is she a pretty color? Is she swollen with need, or glistening with juices already?"

Elbert remains quiet, though from your peripheral vision, you see the position of his legs shifting. Is he making himself comfortable, or…?

"I think it'd be best if you started touching her now, Al."

Your stomach churns at the implication, but the feeling goes straight down to your nethers, morphing into something more tangible that won't stay hidden for long. Will lord Greetia be surprised with how wet you are from all of this? Would he feel…disgusted with your shamelessness, does he prefer you preserving your modesty over this desperate act of seduction? Or does he truly enjoy it so much that he wants to see more?

While keeping busy with your inner turmoil, Alfons already backed you into the chair, and is now motioning for you to sit down. The soft cushioning underneath your rear and your back is welcoming, and you have no problem with the following instruction to put your legs up and hold them open by the folds of your knees. The chair is wide and sturdy enough, though you quickly realize your hands are completely occupied for the sake of keeping the position. No covering your face or grabbing the armrests for purchase… you're completely at the two men's mercy.

"Aww."

Alfons gawks at something, and with a rush of heat, you see him running his fingers through your folds and collecting your slick. The web-like threats cling between his fingers as he brings them up to show Elbert, and you turn your face to the side so as not to meet the face behind the shameless sight.

"Beautiful."

Your breath dies in your throat for a second in sheer surprise. You'd be certain you misheard if it wasn't for the fact that he repeats that same word again in the very next second.

"It's beautiful, Al. Show me more of it."

The man above you chuckles, before properly responding, "As you wish."

His clothed fingers return to your heat, outlining your glistening folds just like before, but exploring without pause this time. His middle finger ghosts over your clit while he drags them all up, awakening something in you. He repeats the motion, quicker, pressing harder, three of his fingers brought together and sliding upwards and then lifting off your clit on each motion, his pinky remaining in the air in some strangely elegant display. It's nothing like the way you usually pleasure yourself, and your body rebels against the relentless teasing. Holding your legs open proves to be hard after a full minute of this, as if they're not your own at all.

Despite it all, the only feeling domineering over your senses is pleasure, steadily growing pleasure. Alfons cares more about making it look beautiful than making it feel good, but the stimulation is still there, and you barely need much of it when you take the psychological element into account.

"Now, El, I'm far from the thought that your imagination is lacking, but would you please allow me to paint a picture for you? You should know, however, that this is far from the real potential Miss Robin holds, for my fingers are far from the…real thing. See for yourself - she can be especially sweet in her reactions when you finally breach her entrance to penetrate her."

Alfons' middle and index fingers push inside you to illustrate his point, and the moan escaping your mouth is louder than you anticipated. Even though those words were aimed at Elbert, they successfully poisoned your own imagination as well, making you twice as sensitive to the intrusion. This is nothing like what Elbert's cock would truly feel like inside you: not the width of it, the length, the lack of pulsing hot warmth, yet you're too far gone in the fantasy. Your toes curl in the air as you try to shake your rear and get some feeling out of the two fingers remaining completely still inside of you. Is this how Elbert would stay to make you get used to his shape…? Your insides throb, getting tighter, making the digits appear deliciously thick for a second.

Your sweet delirium is interrupted by a hand capturing your chin that had lolled to the side. Alfons leans in closer, over the backrest of the chair. He whispers at you, his tone lacking the sing-songy fashion he talks to Elbert with. It grounds you on the spot and gives you shivers.

"Take a look at him. Take a very good look at him."

Focusing your hazy vision on the person at the end of the bed, you see lord Greetia… pleasuring himself. Since when did he start to…?

You want to avert your gaze, but Alfons grips your jaw harshly, forcing you to look straight ahead. Your insides clench again. You have no choice but to stare, like a pervert - even if it's a laughable bit of irony given the circumstances - as the object of your affection strokes his aching hardness to the sight of you. Alfons' other hand finally resumes its ministrations as it works you to a state of vacuous lust, moans spilling from your agape lips again and again.

"Sing more for him, little Robin, come on, you know his name."

Elbert… The two syllables echo in your head, coming from afar, from the times you'd addressed him by his first name - how shameless! - in the safety of your own bed, tucked in the veil of the night.

"Finger her harder, Al. Make her come for me. Now."

Elbert, you hear your own voice calling out - out loud this time, you can't do anything about it - as your orgasm approaches at a fast speed.

"You're looking at the wrong place, El. Up here. Look at her face. This is the face she's making only for you."

Somewhere amidst it all, Alfons switches your tired hands for his own forearm, collecting both your legs on it like a steady horizontal rod keeping your legs folded and open. He keeps finger-fucking you, making you listen to the naughty sounds of your juices overflowing, making an absolute mess of Alfons' dark gloves.

Elbert, you call in a broken moan as you come, your hips trashing with the man above you barely keeping you in place.

Behind your closed eyelids, you register a shadow falling over you, and you quickly come to your senses - only to find none other than Elbert looking down at you, his hand hesitantly reaching out. His icy eyes staring straight into yours.

"Let me help you, El."

Alfons' hand covers the one thrust out in the air, slowly guiding it to its point of interest. When it meets your burning thigh, you feel something sticky being smeared there - has Elbert ejaculated while watching you? - and you feel marked. And beautiful.

"You should take your leave now, Al. I want the two of us to be alone."

In a haze, you're being entrusted to Elbert's arms, lifted up and taken to the bed. Your world spins as you feel the sudden shift in the mood as Elbert gently lies you down.

From the corner of your vision, you can see Alfons waving at you behind your bedroom's door, before it falls closed. You don't pay any mind to his dirty, knowing look, because you don't want to think about anything that is not Elbert for the rest of the night.

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[niallsgoldhoop]

- harry styles one shot

- close to six thousand words

- cw: sexual content, vulgar language, degradation

“So, this is it.”

Logan turns in front of me, those flowers in her hands and a smile on her face as my back now faces the windows behind her desk.

We’ve just spent the last two hours going through the museum, her talking while I listened.

She let me steal kisses from her and wrap my arm around her like she was mine and nobody else’s, something we don’t feel like we get to do very much.

At least not in public.

I watched her explain everything she knew about each and every single thing she picked for this museum. Watching the way her eyes were full of stars was enough to almost make me ask her to do it again.

Even watching her down in the preservation room.

It hit me all at once when I watched her handle a piece painted during the Renaissance, turning it over so gently in her hands covered in a pair of white gloves, smiling at her coworker like they had just discovered gold.

I love her.

Each and every part of her I long for.

Seeing her here, in her office, she’s the only one I want to see.

The one that could pull me into the open waters of a storm.

Her.

Closing the space between us, my hands rest on her hips as I walk us backwards, all the way until her ass bumps against the desk.

“I think it’s perfect.” My lips brush hers and she smiles. “You gonna put those flowers into some water?”

Her words make me smile. “I think I have a vase in one of the cabinets.”

I hum as I kiss her, my lips moving with hers in a dance all our own, letting my hands slide from her waist around to her ass. “We should get it out.”

“We should.” Moving her hands from in front of us, she sits the flowers down on the middle of her desk as her lips open for me, her tongue pressing to mine.

Getting caught up in her is my favorite thing to do, even though I know this isn’t the place to do it— I don’t care.

Dropping my kiss from her lips, when she lets her head move to the side I take it as an invitation to keep going, letting my lips glide along her skin.

“I locked the door.”

Just hearing those words come from her mouth spark a fire under my skin as I pull the front of her shirt to the side, leaving a harsh mark against her skin before soothing it with my tongue after.

“Yeah?” Finding the waistband of her pants, I nip her bottom lip as I undo the button and pull the fabric of her shirt out. “And why did you do that?”

Dipping my finger just under the hem of her underwear, I can feel my pulse all the way in the tip of my length as she whimpers.

“So you could touch me.” Returning my kiss, her own lips find a path along my jaw. “Or are you too scared?”

I pull back, looking down at her as my tongue runs along the inside of my cheek, a dark chuckle coming from my throat. Sliding my hands under the silk shirt, I groan when I feel her warm skin under my fingertips, leaning down to let my lips brush against her ear.

“You think I’m too scared to fuck you right here, right now?” My thumbs brush over her nipples, peaked below the lace of her bra. “Take this off for me.”

Those dark eyes meet mine, the slice of blue as bright as ever, as she raises an eyebrow, challenging me unlike anyone I’ve ever known. “And if I don’t?”

Reaching up, I grip her jaw, watching her pupils expand with darkness. “Now.”

I hold her there, squeezing just a little more until her fingers feel the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head and tossing it to the floor behind us.

“See?” Pressing a kiss to the middle of her collarbone, I smile. “Look how easy it is to listen to me.”

Dragging my tongue across her skin, my teeth nip at the swell of her breast at the top of her nude colored bra. When I hook my finger into the material and pull it down, my lips find her sensitive nipple in no time, bringing it to my mouth and listening to her moan above me.

“Harry—“ That voice calls my name as Logan slides her hand behind my head, fingernails scratching along my scalp and making me moan against her. “Fuck.”

I pull back just long enough to rid her of the periwinkle colored pants, letting them pool at her feet before kicking them to the side and lifting her up to sit on the desk.

“Look at that.” Dropping my eyes to the dark spot at the front of her underwear, I meet her eyes as my knuckle presses into her clit over the fabric. “So responsive for me already.”

Moving her hips, Logan searches for more contact. “Why do you always tease me?”

“You think this is me teasing you?” Reaching behind her, I unclasp her bra and watch her toss it to the side. “I’d hate to see you when I really tease you. There would be tears coming from these pretty eyes and you’d be begging for me to let you come. Is that what you want?”

Logan shakes her head, eyes still locked with mine. “Not now— please just fuck me.”

Standing in front of her, I couldn’t paint a better picture.

Leaning back on her hands and looking at me with eyes that say so much more than words ever could, I lean in to kiss her.

Just once on the lips.

From there, my lips move straight down the center of her body.

Eventually making it to the place she wants me the most, I drop down to my knees placing gentle kisses along the inside of her thighs.

Sliding my finger into the side of the lace, I bring it to the side before running my tongue through her one time, pulling back to press my thumb into her clit.

“Maybe I’ll tease you anyway, yeah?” Grinning up at her, I watch as she bites her bottom lip at the same time she opens her legs for me just a little more. “Get you nice and wet for me, fuck you so good.”

Logan nods as I press a kiss to her thigh. “I don’t care— just please.”

“Well, since you’re being such a good girl and using your manners—“

I smile just before I give her what she wants.

Tasting her on my tongue, her hands pull my hair as my hands reach for her breasts, rolling her nipples between the tips of my fingers as I bring her clit into my mouth.

As I feel her legs wrap around my shoulders, I flick my tongue against the nerve just to hear her moan my name in the middle of this office.

“Like that— don’t stop, Harry.” Logan rolls her hips forward as my tongue lavishes her, taking my time. “Can I have your fingers?”

Drawing a mindless pattern against her clit, I ignore the request for just a few moments as I listen to her get impatient. She’s so wet that when I do finally give in, there’s not even a hint of resistance before two of my fingers slide inside of her and hook forward to find the spot that gives her the most pleasure.

I can hear her gasp in approval, taking the time to look up at her while my fingers move at a gentle pace, never too fast and never too slow.

Just right.

“You like when I fuck you with my fingers?” Nipping the skin of her thigh, Logan nods. “How long have you been this wet for me?”

Her head falls back when I press harder against her front wall, those pouty lips dropping open in pleasure.

Using my other hand, I bring it down on the outside of her thigh, feeling her walls tighten around my fingers. “Answer me.”

“Hours.” She whines, her body humming with sexual tension. “I’ve been like this for hours.”

Slowing down the pace of my fingers, a smile spreads across my face when I lean back in, flicking her clit with my tongue. “You want me to take care of you?”

Taking her clit in my mouth with no mercy, I listen to her as she moans around a version of please that only I get to hear.

Pressing my tongue against her with the amount of pressure I know she likes, I press even harder with my fingers until her thighs shake on either side of my head and her walls tighten, taking her right over the edge of the cliff she’s been standing on.

I drink up what she gives me like the finest wine, not wasting a single drop.

Logan tugs on my hair, bringing my face to hers as she kisses me, tasting herself on my tongue at the same time that she reaches for the button on my

pants and pushing them down just enough to free my aching cock.

“I need you inside of me, now.” Reaching between us, I groan as she slides her hand along the smooth skin.

Grabbing her hips and positioning her at the edge of her desk, I cup her jaw. “Go ahead— get it wet for me, Lo.”

The sound that leaves my mouth when I watch her lean forward just the slightest bit is feral, her spit falling from her lips and onto my cock makes my body burst into flames under my skin.

“You’re so dirty, so fucking dirty.” Without warning, I position myself at her entrance and thrust forward, so deep that I don’t stop until my pelvis meets hers. “Letting me fuck you in your office and spitting on my fucking cock, tell me— tell me how dirty you are.”

Logan’s hands slip as I thrust into her again, the force of it making her fingers curl against nothing. “I’m so— dirty for you.”

“You can do better than that.” I say, fucking her even harder. “Come on, Logan. Tell me what you really are.”

Angling my hips, I reach even deeper as she chokes on a moan, doing anything in her power to keep from

falling backwards. “I’m— a— fuck, dirty— dirty slut for you.”

“That’s right, you like it when I call you names. Can feel you clench around me when I do.” Placing my hand at the base of her throat, I push her back until her back lays flat on the desk. “Look at you right now. Laid out for me while you let me use this pussy, watching the way these full tits bounce each time my cock fills you up.”

Thrusting even harder, her eyes slam shut. “Fuck! Don’t stop, please don’t fucking stop.”

“Tell me what you need, I can feel how fucking wet you are.” My fingers play with her nipples, pinching just enough to give her a little bit of pain. “Don’t be shy. We’re all the way down at the end of this hallway, tell me.”

“Choke me.” She breathes out, her back arching just a little bit as I slam into her harder.

Happy to oblige, I let one hand slide up her sternum and around her throat, my fingertips pressing into the sides in the way that is safe. “Is that what you want?”

“Harder.”

She looks stunning underneath me like this, giving me her body to play with as my fingers press into her soft skin, watching as her eyes glaze over. “Yeah? you like that?”

Logan nods as I press even harder, her lips opening on a breathless moan as my other hand keeps rolling her nipple between my fingers.

It’s like heaven opens for me when her eyes connect with mine and I lose any sense of control I had left, fucking her so hard that her back arches off the desk and her hands reach out looking for something— anything— to hold onto, knocking things off into the floor with a clatter as her walls clench around me.

“You gonna give it to me like this? Huh?” I ask, keeping my pace just as hard. “Or are you too scared? Aren’t those the words you used earlier?”

Those eyes narrow as she looks at me, menacing. “Fuck you.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, I pull my hips back and leave her warmth, gripping my cock in my hand as I nod towards the empty space behind her desk. “Get on your knees.”

“What the fuck, Harry?!” Sitting up, the fire behind Logan’s eyes is molten. “Who do you—“

“I said—“ I step close to her, pushing my thumb into her mouth and hooking it behind her bottom row of teeth, looking down at her as my hand continues to work my cock. “Get on your fucking knees.”

With my finger still in place, she moves down to the floor and settles on her knees, looking up at me with her eyes still narrowed.

“I’m gonna take my finger out of your mouth and you’re going to open for me, okay?” I move my hand up and down, forcing Logan to nod. “Then I’m going to fuck your dirty fucking mouth.”

Moving my hand again, she nods under my control.

Taking my finger out of her mouth, I bend down to place a kiss on her lips. “I know we have a safe word, but tap my thigh twice if it’s too much, okay?”

“Okay.” The word gives me the green light as her lips press to mine. “I trust you.”

Pushing the tip of my cock past her lips, I wrap her ponytail around my fist twice before pushing my hips forward and watching her take me. “You can’t talk back with my cock stuffed in your throat, is that right?”

I fuck her mouth as she nods, taking me so fucking so well.

My own moans fill the room as I feel the back of her throat contract around me as she chokes, giving her room to breathe as I pull back just a little.

It feels like heaven as her tongue moved along me and I see her hand moving between her legs, making me count backwards from ten in order to keep myself from blowing into the back of her throat.

“Put your hands where I can see them.” I pull harder on her hair, making her whimper around my cock as she looks up at me with tears in her eyes. “You like sucking me off, don’t you? Filthy girl. Keep your hands where I can see them.”

She does as I say and rests her hands on her thighs for a few minutes, letting me use her again before I decide she’s had enough and pull back.

“Are you going to be good now?” Leaning down, I grip her cheeks, watching as her lips pucker and waiting for her to nod. “Gonna let me fuck you until you come for me?”

“Please, Harry.” Logan nods. “I’ll be so good, so good.”

Reaching under her arms, I pull her up and press my lips to hers. “You’re always good for me. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I promise, I’m fine.” She smiles, pressing her lips back into mine. “Now please, please fuck me.”

Her gasp goes straight to my cock when I pull her in front of me and press my palm between her shoulder blades, bending her over the desk. I kick out one of her legs, making them wider apart as I bring my cock to her entrance.

Notching just the tip inside of her, I glide my palm across her ass before bringing it down harshly against her skin. When I grab her arms and secure them against her back, only then do I use them as leverage and thrust my hips forward.

Logan cries out my name at the same time that I moan out hers, a perfect duet.

A symphony.

Her walls are so tight for me and I know that by now neither one of us is going to last very long, so I don’t waste any of my time by fucking her harder than before. I can feel the pressure in my spine as it inflates, and when I hear Logan let out a cry it almost sends me over the edge.

“You feel so good inside of me, so fucking good.” Logan says between breaths. “I want to feel you dripping down—“

We’re both caught off guard when her phone rings. the green light of it catching our attention as her secretary's name pops up on the display.

Slowing down, I bury myself as deep inside of her as I can, nodding towards the phone. “Go on, answer it. You are still at work— aren’t you?”

Shaking her head, she looks at me with wide eyes. “Harry, I can’t—“

When I pull back to thrust into her harshly, she yelps. “You can and you will.”

Stilling my motions again, Logan reaches out with a shaky hand and pulls the receiver off the dock, bringing it to her ear as her eyes meet mine over her shoulder.

“He—Hello?”

As soon as the words are out of her mouth, I draw my hips back so achingly slow only to push back at the same pace.

Logan bites her bottom lip as she nods at whatever is said to her. “That sounds, holy— good. That sounds so, so good.”

“Good girl.” I whisper, my hands moving over her skin as I move my hips just a little faster. “Keep going.”

I can see the tears in her eyes as they threaten to spill over. “Denise said she could— could handle that.”

Her other hand leaves her back, gripping the edge of the desk with white knuckles as her head falls forward with the control she’s trying to use not to give us away on the phone.

“You can let them know that I’ll be— be there.” She breathes out faster as I angle my hips up, making her choke. “No, I’m okay. Just swallowed my water wrong.”

Sliding my hand around her hips and pressing my fingertips against her clit, Logan’s eyes roll back as she drops the phone on top of her desk as I fuck her even harder while watching her try to keep up her conversation.

“I— I have to go. I’m getting another— another— call.” Dropping the phone, Logan reaches over to press the switch hook and end the call as she cries out. “Harry, fuck—“

“You’ve been so good, Lo. Come for me.” The words are barely off of my lips when I feel her clench around me, her body giving up to the pleasure and drowning my cock in her release. “There you go, give it to me.”

It feels like the ultimate high as my own release barrels into me, filling her tight center until I don’t have anything left to give her.

My body falls over hers and with my forearms on either side of her, I press a kiss to her back and whisper words of affirmation to her, telling her everything she needs to hear.

You’re perfect for me.

You did so well.

My good girl.

You are everything.

Always so good.

Logan rests her cheek on her desk and the whimper that comes from her when I pull out of her almost makes me bury myself inside of her all over again.

“Fuck, baby.” With my hands on her ass, I slide my thumbs down to rest on either side of her sensitive core, moving them enough to watch as her come mixed with mine drips out of her. “You should see how good we look mixed together like this, could watch my come drip down your thighs all day.”

Shaking her head, Logan locks eyes with me over her shoulder. “I want it.”

“Yeah?” I brush my fingers over her entrance, pressing a kiss to her back when she jumps at the sensation. “You wanna stay full? Want to keep me inside?”

When she nods, I use two fingers to push what I can back inside, leaving them there as I find her lips and kiss her long and hard.

“Always wanna be filled with you, only you.” Brushing her lips against mine, she smiles lazily. “Just you.”

It feels like time slows down in that movement as we catch our breath together.

And when I reluctantly pull away.

We get dressed slower than we ever have, stopping to kiss each other slowly and with no real sense of urgency.

Even as we clean up the mess we made, neither one of us seems to really care about what we just did.

“I guess the flowers didn’t really make it.” Logan says, smiling shyly as she holds up the mangled bouquet that she pushed to the floor. “I’m sorry.”

Just the sight of her, sated and happy holding up the ruined flowers makes me laugh.

A loud, deep laugh.

Wrapping my arms around her shoulder, I press a kiss to her temple as I reach for the flowers and toss them into the trash next to her desk.

“Come on, pretty girl. Let’s go get you some more flowers.”

*find more on wattpad @ niallsgoldhoop*

[uglypastels]

Hello love!! Your #1 fan back again with another request 😋

Was wondering if you could do a Logan x Gothic reader where the reader is apart of the team but not liked all that much due to their closed off manner. Not being receptive to any sort of communication or touch with anyone. But that’s due to her not wanting to have a meltdown and hurting others. Her and Logan are in a secret relationship cause obviously they’re the same in terms of personality and past traumas. I’d love it if reader could have slight reality warping powers, so she wears gloves to keep from accidentally touching someone and hurting them.

There’s this party going on inside the mansion. Some sort of holiday or something (whatever you’d like!) but reader isn’t a huge fan of social gatherings so she goes outside, finding Logan on his bike. She talks to him about feeling bad for not trying harder to be more open but he reassures her that she didn’t need to change for anyone to like her. Especially not him. The night could end with them heading back to her room and doing who knows what lool

(You don’t have to write anything you’re not comfortable with!! Thanks again for reading tho! Take care 💚😙)

ahhh i love this. hope you like what i made of it <3

warnings: social anxiety, overstimulation (lights and sounds, get your head out of the gutter).

~ X-Men requests are Open ~ Masterlist ~

The mansion was buzzing with excitement. The school had suddenly turned into a sort of nightclub with music blasting from the speakers. The lights were swinging and crisscrossing in colourful beams. Mutants, intoxicated with excitement as well as alcohol, danced all around you, singing along to any song to come up. Before had even started, it had become too much for you. The loud noises, the smells, the lights. But you had also promised Rogue to show up and at least try to have a good time. 

Well, you weren’t. No matter how hard you tried, these things just weren’t for you. Like you promised, you had stayed out on the floor for a bit. Tried to let the music move you and dance a bit, but it was so crowded. With each bump on the arm or back, you just kept getting flashes of the people’s minds. And who knows what they saw when they touched you?

It was all a waste of time. You were just being a burden on those who simply wanted to let loose and have fun. 

So, as the rest partied, you slipped out. No one would miss you. The one person who maybe would wasn’t even there. Or so you thought.

‘Logan?’ you asked as you saw his silhouette shift through the corridors. He didn’t look up at the sound of his name, but it was clear he didn’t hear you above the volume of the party. 

‘Logan.’ you called again, picking up your page as you went after him. Through the corridors, the main hall, out the large oaken doors. He was just sitting down on his motorcycle as you reached him. ‘Where are you going?’

‘Out to get some milk.’ He grumbled, adjusting his grip on the handles.

‘You’re kidding me.’ you scoffed, rolling your eyes at his excuse. ‘You might be an old man, but not that kind.’

‘Watch it, bub.’ He warned you with a stern glare. ‘I just… had to get away from—

‘All of that?’ you finished the sentence, ‘Yeah, I get it.’ Neither of you was the social type, and perhaps that’s what brought you together in the first place. The quiet on the outskirts of chaos drew you closer.

He must have seen the sadness on your face, as not much later, he said, ‘care to escape with me, sugar?’

And as much as you immediately want to hop on that damned motorcycle of his and run away into the sunset with him, instead, you took a step back, wrapping your bare arms over yourself. ‘I— I don’t think that’s a good idea, Lo.’ You nearly whispered. ‘What if I accidentally give you some kind of vision and you drive us off a cliff.’

‘Give me some credit, sweets.’ He chuckled. ‘I can drive a bike.’

‘Even when,’ you gently touched his forearm, ‘the road looks like this.’ For a moment, the driveway of the mansion turned into a sunny beach in front of your eyes. Logan squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. You knew it wouldn’t do any good, but you let go of him and shut the hallucination off. 

Most of the time, you could control your powers, but it was still something you had to learn. The quirks and kinks were hard to get out. For example, make sure you don’t accidentally give people hallucinations when you come into contact with them.

‘We should get out there sometime,’ Logan said. You looked up at him in confusion as to what he meant, and so he clarified. ‘To the beach. For a getaway. Just you and me. What’ya say, hun.’

‘You’d want to go to the beach? With me?’ never had you expected Logan to suggest something like that. You tried to imagine him in a pair of swimming shorts, sun-kissed skin and water dripping— you blinked quickly, erasing the images from your mind before they’d take over. Still, even if it was a joke, the idea of Logan taking you away for a holiday filled your body with fluttering butterflies. 

Logan huffed out a smile as he got off his motorbike. ‘I’d take you anywhere you’d like.’ His hand found its way around your waist, and he pulled you closer. ‘Just say the word, sugar, and hop on.’

Your mind immediately went into a mode of protest, apprehension and fear taking over, but he silenced all of that with a kiss. When he held and touched you, all the voices and lights went quiet. It was just you and him.

the end.

thank you for reading 💗

if you enjoyed the fic, please consider reblogging and leaving a comment. or send a message via my inbox. requests are also more than welcome. 💗

[arpmemething2]

Batman the Animated Series sentence starters

Send one for my muse’s reaction.  Feel free to change pronouns as needed.

"All right, scum bucket, it's you, me, and thirty stories. You're gonna tell me exactly what I want to know."

"That's one way to remove a splinter."

"I have this natural immunity against poisons, toxins, the pain and suffering of others. Go figure."

"I failed you. I wish there were another way for me to say it. I cannot. I can only beg your forgiveness, and pray you hear me somehow, someplace... someplace where a warm hand waits for mine."

"Last time we met, you tried to throw me off a building."

"If you think I've been bad news before..."

"Old and infirm as you are, I'd trade a thousand of my frozen years for your worst day."

"What kind of a saboteur uses a six-thousand dollar Metronex to set a time bomb?"

"I never counted on being happy."

"A strong mind can fuel a frail body."

"I need a new car."

"There's no way you could have escaped from that explosion! How did you get out?"

"I'm gettin' too old for this."

"I suppose what they say is true: society is to blame. High society."

"Succumb to the fear!"

"Gee, it's amazing the things you find in people's glove compartments."

"Children and guns do not mix. Ever."

"I'm having a BAD DAY! I'm sick of people trying to shoot me, run me over or blow me up!"

"They're not stupid, and it's your party."

"Aren't they just the cutest family you've ever seen?"

"It's midnight darling, time to unmask."

"It's gonna be one of those nights."

"When you look too long into the abyss, the abyss looks back through you."

"If you're so smart, why aren't you rich?"

"You've got to admit there's something between us."

"There's always time to heal."

"I didn't realize you'd taken up listening to rock and roll."

"Choosing a weekend date?"

"I don't believe in fate."

"An entire city screaming in fear. I wonder if we'll be able to hear it."

"Some thought I'd gone mad. Others thought I always had been. And so they put me where they thought I belonged."

"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no tales."

"This city would fall apart without you!"

"I love that trick but I can never make it work."

"Taking up video games, are we?"

"I hate it when he does that."

"You are strong... but not strong enough!"

"They don't make straight jackets like they used to. I should know."

"He's not samurai. He's NINJA. They're spies and assassins. Their only code is to get the job done."

"A pixel is worth a thousand words."

"I am vengeance! I am the night!!"

"And who says opera has to be boring?"

"He always knew how to make an exit."

"Hey! Do I hit your kids? Oh, actually I do..."

"Now boys, didn't your mommies teach you that's not the way to get a lady's attention?"

"Not the robot theory again."

"Freeze, maggots! You're all under arrest!"

"You said you'd never let me go home!"

"What was she before she went bonkers?"

"This used to be a beautiful street. Good people lived here once."

"'Tis better to have loved and lost, and made a small profit, than never to have loved at all!"

"Chance is everything. Whether you're born or not, whether you live or die, whether you're good or bad. It's all arbitrary."

"But you've forgotten the first rule of comedy: if you have to explain the joke... THEN IT ISN'T FUNNY!"

"I told you not to speak!"

"Coming through! Hot stuff!"

"The snow is beautiful, don't you think? Clean, uncompromising..."

"When the going gets tough, the tough go shopping."

"What a pleasant surprise. Though I should warn you - breaking and entering is against the law."

"This could cause a stampede to pork."

"You really know how to put the fun in funeral."

"You ought to put your toys away."

"Would not, could not... would not, could not... oh, could not join the dance."

"Home. I never thought that could sound so good."

"Then I'll see you in your nightmares!"

"As the Bard said, "the fault lies not in our stars, but in ourselves.""

"You know what I'd have given for a death scene like this. Too bad I won't get to read the notices."

"He's a little protective of all this. I think he likes bats better than people."

"All your power and money has bought you an empire of misery."

"Don't try this at home kids!"

"I feel ill."

"Well, that was fun! Now, who's for Chinese?"

"You're about to fall out of orbit."

"Why can't he ever stay dead?"

"They can bury me in the ground, as deep as they like. But I'll grow back. We always grow back. Don't we, baby?"

"All men have something to hide. The brighter the picture, the darker the negative."

"You thought I was just another bubble-headed blond bimbo! Well, the joke's on you, 'cause I'm not even a real blonde."

"When the wage slaves start acting like they own the place, it's time to pull the plug."

"I've been known to be foolish, but ain't nobody calls me a liar and goes to bed happy."

"Since you don't like my side-splitters, how 'bout a skull-splitter?"

"This is kidnapping, mister! Last time I checked, it was highly illegal!"

[luxheroica]

I wrote Wyll/Karlach, inspired by this art. I have been shipping them hard for months and knew I needed to contribute to the ship in some way. Also on AO3.

Tonight the camp is drunk on success and copious amounts of wine. There is still hardship and danger on the road ahead, not least for those who still bear the tadpoles in their heads. For tonight the goblins are gone and the druids ritual halted, the wine is sweet and the fire bright and that is enough to banish thoughts of darkness ahead. 

The bard Alfira has struck up a string of country dances on her lute, the kind of songs played at festivals and weddings for all to join. Wyll, in good humor and more than incidentally tipsy, joins the first one– a circle dance that has him linking arms with Lia on his left and Zorru on his right as they careen faster and faster around the roaring bonfire. 

There is something liberatory about dancing among the tieflings. None of them stare at his horns (still heavy on his head) or his strange eyes, instead taking them in stride. 

Wyll is the only one among the group that he has privately begun to think of as ‘companions’ to join the dance. Tav snuck off some time ago to find a private tent with Gale. Astarion is skulking around somewhere with a bottle of wine. Lae’zel scorned the idea of any revelry and has gone to bed, and Shadowheart in rare sympatico with the gith has also retired early. 

He is surprised not to see Karlach among the party– until he turns and sees her at the edge of the firelight, drinking out of a flask and watching the dancing, her feet tapping along with the music. 

The song comes to an end with a repetition that is so fast it nearly has all of them tripping over their own feet. Wyll has to catch his breath when at last the lute sings out its last note, and the gathered tieflings break out in applause. 

He excuses himself from the fireside and finds Karlach, who tips her drink at him and nods when he approaches. 

“You don’t wish to join the dancing?”

“Oh, ah,” Karlach shifts on her feet. She’s always in motion, he’s noticed, whether she’s fidgeting or pacing around the camp. “I don’t really feel like setting anybody on fire tonight. Plus I don’t know any of the dances.” As if sensing she’s brought the mood down she grins at Wyll. “You looked like you were having fun though.” 

“It was quite fun,” Wyll says, eyeing Karlach, who is watching the firelight circle with half an eye. “Most of these dances don’t have complicated steps– they’re easy to learn, if you follow what everyone else is doing you’re more than halfway there.” 

“Doesn’t solve the problem of me turning that whole line dance into kindling.” 

She’s keeping her tone light, joking and grinning, like she doesn’t really care that she can’t ever touch anyone without harming them. 

Wyll follows her lead in this. “I’ve got a nice sturdy pair of leather gloves,” he cajoles, pushing her just a little. “And Mizora’s present should make me at least a little resistant to infernal fire.” 

Karlach grins again, softening a little this time. “Don’t worry about me, soldier– I’m all left feet, you get me out there I’ll just careen into everything. Get out there and enjoy yourself.” 

Wyll doesn’t believe that– well, he does believe the part about her careening, she seems like the type to careen– but he doesn’t believe that she truly wants him to leave her to go enjoy dancing. Karlach puts up a good front, but were he in her shoes he would want nothing more than the simple things that had been so long denied him. 

He fishes in his pouch and draws out his pair of sturdy leather gloves which he slides over his hands, like a courtier drawing on his silk gloves so that he might offer a hand to a lady, then bends at the waist in his very best courtly bow. That it is a little out of practice he thinks she will forgive, especially when an irrepressible laugh burbles up out of her. 

Wyll winks, and Karlach laughs again. 

“Well, my lady?” Wyll asks. “May I have this dance.” 

She’s grinning truthfully now, as she takes his hand. There’s a bit of heat, like he might feel pulling a pan from the oven, but it’s shielded by the leather. “You may,” Karlach says, a laugh still at the back of her throat. 

Wyll pulls her towards the firelight. Careful to give her enough space that any careening won’t be a danger, but still within the flickering orange glow of it. A few of the tieflings look at them and grin when they join. There’s a new tune starting up– he knows this one, a sprightly hop meant to be danced with a single partner. 

“This one isn’t complicated, just follow my steps,” Wyll murmurs to Karlach as he begins twirling her around the fire. At first she is clumsy, all left feet as she said, but after a few turns she starts to anticipate the little skip-hop on the third beat. Wyll smiles. “There, you’re getting it.” 

Karlach shakes her head, still grinning. “You’re playing with fire, you know that right?” 

Wyll meets her eyes. Grins right back. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” He sends her out in a spin, and her laugh echoes all the way to the sky above. 

They whirl around the bonfire, until the flames become embers and the music slows and they all at last stumble off drunk and sleepy to bed. Wyll’s thick leather gloves are covered in scorch marks, but he considers it worth the sacrifice to see Karlach’s soft smile when at last the dancing finishes for the night. 

There will be danger on the morrow, but for tonight his heart is warm. 

[y2ashlee]

Lucifer x Virgin! Fem! Reader

Lucifer had been in his office finishing some paperwork from Lord Diavolo for an up coming event at RAD. He didn’t see how this event would benefit RAD. But this was his job and he said he’d do anything Diavolo asked. He sighed and put down his pen deciding to take a break. He felt like a coffee.

He sighed and stood up from his desk and walked to the door opening it as he left his room and headed to the kitchen. He walked into the kitchen and stopped a little taken aback as he saw the human, ______ was singing softly to herself and slightly dancing as she was preparing dinner with her headphones on. Her singing was soft and a little off key but that didn’t matter to him. He smirked to himself as he watched her.

She turned around as she decided to get some spices from the cabinet. She jumped a little once she saw Lucifer. She slid her headphones off to speak. “O-oh, was I being to loud?” She asked him. “No not at all.” Lucifer chucked. “I simply just wanted a coffee and decided to came make one.” He said with a slight smile.

She smiled back. “Well I can make you one if you’d like.” She offered. “I don’t mind since I’m already here.” She smiled. “Well, since you offered.” Lucifer said and sat down at the kitchen bench. “Great what would you like?” She asked turning on the coffee machine. “A latte with..” he paused and smirked a little. “..with some sugar, please.” She blushed a little at his smirk but got to work making his coffee with “some sugar~”. When she had finished making his coffee she carefully placed it down in front of him.

“There you go~” she said with a smile pleased with her work. He nodded in thanks and picked it up and blew on it gently before he took a sip. He smiled at the taste. “It’s lovely, thank you.” He said and looked at her. “G-glad you think so.” She said with a smile and got back to cooking dinner sliding her headphones back on.

He watched her as she made dinner her hip movements, the way she moved her hands, her singing and of course whenever she bent over. He gulped feeling guilty for watching her and thinking of her in such an unclean way. But he couldn’t help it she was just so captivating to him. He looked into his cup trying to get those unclean thoughts out of his mind but all he could think about was her, her lips, her neck, her chest, her hips, her ass. Lord he just couldn’t stop thinking those unclean thoughts about her. He swallowed the saliva that was forming in his mouth and downed the rest of his coffee and wiped his mouth with his gloved hand.

He got up and took his cup to the sink to wash it but before he could she quickly turned around and bumped into him. “S-sorry!” She said. “It’s alright no one is hurt.” He said and placed his cup in the sink. He placed a hand at her side and she gasped. “It’s okay..” he said his eyelids lowered slightly as he lifted her chin up and lent in and kissed her gently. She gasped and he slid his tongue in massaging her tongue with his. She lent onto the kiss enjoying his warmth. He stroked her cheek with his left hand while he trickled his right hand up and down her back. She moaned softly into his mouth. He pulled away and looked down at her once more. Her breathing was heavy and her eyelids fluttered as she tried to calm her breathing. He lent over and kissed her cheek gently. “Meet me in my room after you’ve finished preparing dinner.” He whispered to her and pulled away with a smirk on his face as he walked out of the room. Her cheeks were as pink as the pork roast she was preparing.

Time skip~

After she had finished preparing dinner she washed her hands and exhaled as she made her way up the stairs to Lucifer’s room. Her hand was shaking as she knocked on his door. She barley had anytime to react as he opened the door so fast and pulled her in. She gasped and looked up at him. “Y-yes.” She said it sounding more like a statement then a question. “I’m glad you came~” he said as he kissed her neck and bit on her ear gently. He let out a breath as he sucked on her earlobe. “______, you have know idea what you do to me.” He said and pushed her against the door gently as he took her lips to his once more and she kissed him back as he raised her hands above her head holding them there gently as his left hand moved to her waist his thumb slowly moving under her shirt. She gasped once he gently bit her lip and he slipped his tongue in once again she moaned into the kiss as his gloved hand moved up to cup her breast under her shirt. He pulls away and hears her heavy breathing. “I-I’m sorry, I realise that I should not be doing this to you, I took out my urges on you, and you should not have to be put through this-“

______ kisses him sweetly. “I-it’s Okay.” She says and looks up at him. “Are you sure because I’m not stopping even if you say so.” She thinks for a moment but nods. “I-Okay, but c-could you go slowly......I-I’m a virgin...” she says blushing brightly. “I know, and I will.” He says placing his arms around her hips and picks her up and places her on his bed gently. “Give me a moment.” He says and takes off his cloak and hangs it up and slips off his shoes and tosses his gloves onto his bedside table. She looked up at him as he slid of her shoes and dropped them to the ground and kissed her ankle. “How long do we have till dinners ready?” He asked looking up at her moving his hands gently sliding them up her thighs. She blushes and looks away slightly. “A-about two hours.” He chuckles. “Thats plenty of time~” he says sliding her jeans down and dropping them to the floor.

He kneels on his bed as he unbuttons his vest and slips it off tossing it to the floor along with the other clothing items he leaves his shirt on for now. He leans down placing his hands on either side of her and kissed her once more before he moved to her neck once more and bit down gently. She moaned and covered her mouth. He pulled her hand away and kissed it gently. “I want to hear all the sounds you make.” He says looking into her eyes. “B-but what if s-some hears us?” She asked. “Its alright.....my room is soundproof.....and only mine.” He says and nibbles on her wrist. She shudders and licks her lips. “A-alright then.” She gasps as his hand slips up her shirt and massages her hip while his right hand moves to her back and un does her bra and trickles his fingers down her back while his left hand moves to her naked breast and massages it gently.

“Ah!” She moans his hands feeling cold on her breast. His right hand moved down and cups her arse gently as it travels to her inner thigh. He pulls away slightly and unbuttons his shirt. “As much as I like to be in control I don’t think I should be the only one touching..” he says slipping off his shirt and dropping it to the floor revealing his chiseled chest. She blushes and gulps staring unable to take her eyes off him. “Like what you see.....I know I do~” he says and leans in for another kiss and grabs her hand gently as he makes her hand rundown his chest. He shudders and lets her hand go. She continues feeling him up moving her hand from his abs all the way to his pecks and to his chin. She leans up and kisses him. He smirks into the kiss.

He moves his hand to the hem of her shirt and pulls away from her mouth not wanting to of course. “Can I take this off now?” His voice low and husky. She nods and helps him take it off her bra still hanging loosely as he slips her bra straps off and drops it to the floor along with the shirt. His breath is heavy as he leans down and licks her nipple gently. She moans and covers her mouth in embarrassment. He chuckles and moves her hand away from her face. “I told you I want to hear all your sounds~” he said and kissed her fingers gently. “S-sorry I forgot.” She said softly. He smiles to reassure her. He leans down and licks her breast once more and takes her nipple in his mouth and sucks on it. His left hand massages her hips while his left hand moves her hand downward towards his growing excitement.

He grunts at the touch. “I haven’t felt another’s touch for such a long time, so excuse me if I’m a bit sloppy.” He says looking into her eyes. “But I’m going to pleasure you till you scream my name~” he says and moves himself inbetween her thighs spreading them gently as he slides her underwear down and tosses them to the floor with the rest. She shudders as the cool air hits her exposed cave. He licks his lips and leans down and opens her outer cave walls with his right hand while his left rubs her arse. He licks up her outer walls. She moans and grips the bed covers under her.

He grins as he moves his right hand to the top of her cave and rubs it looking for that certain pearl while his left hand moves to her cave entrance. He gently inserts the tip of his middle finger rubbing it around loosely letting her get comfortable. Her moans are soft like she’s trying to hide them but he’ll change that soon enough. Once he found her pearl he licks it his tongue curling and swirling trying his best to simulate her. Her moans start to get louder and longer as he continues. He inserts two of his fingers and pumps them slowly as he prepares her for his pride. She lets out a deep moan as she leans her head back as the pleasure builds.

He pulls away and her moaning slows as she looks up at him wondering why he stopped. “Don’t worry, we’ll get back to it in a moment, but I don’t see the fun of me doing all the work~” he says as he kneels on his bed and unbuttons his pants and slowly zips down the zipper. “Wouldn’t you say so~?” He asks and looks at her. Her face is red but she nods and sits up. He chuckles deeply. “Well would you mind doing something for me?” He asks referring to his hardening pride. “I-I can try my best..” she says. “That’s all I ask~” he says and sits on the edge of his bed and pats his leg gently for her to join him. She crawls over and sits next to him. He pulls down his underwear and releases his pride. She stares at it for a second surprised how big it looked. She licked her lips nervously and looked to him before she gently grabbed it.

“Gogh!” He moaned. “D-did I hurt you?” She asked worried and moved her hand away. “N-not at all.” He says and grasps her wrist and places her hand on his girth. “A-alright.” She says and rubs her thumb over the top of his length. He grunts and gasps the feeling of her touching him felt so refreshing. She gulps and slowly moves her hand up and down his length the feeling off him hardening in her hand felt strange but turned her on. The avatar of pride making these noises for her made her feel more confident. She leant down and licked the tip of his pride. He moans lowly at the touch. She licks her lips and starts to suck on the tip gently, almost getting the whole tip in her mouth before, Lucifer pushes her away.

“I-I think we’re done with the foreplay.” He says and gently pulls her away from his length and kisses her with force before standing up and walking the best he can with his pride so hard. He gets to his bedside table and opens the draw and takes out a condom and rips the packet open and puts it on his girth as she watches in awe. He turns to her and picks her up gently and places her gently back on the bed. “I’m warning you that I can’t control myself much once we get into the end game.” He says and kisses her gently. “But I’ll be as gentle as I can.” He says biting her lip. “O-okay.” She says and gasps as she feels his pride at her cave entrance.

“I’m going in now.” He says and pushes his girth in as slow as he can. She bites her lip at the pain and tosses her head to the side. He grasps her hand gently letting her squeeze it until she gets used to the pain. His pride is mostly in but he lets her get used to it before he moves. She nods for him to move and he starts to thrust his hips slowly. But hearing her soft moans made him go faster and he trusted into her cave exploring as much as he could. Her moans got louder the faster and harder he trusted. He lifts her leg up and wraps it around his waist allowing him to explore her cave deeper. He looked down at her, her eyes were closed her mouth agape her breasts flopping with every trust. He bit his lip and grabbed the covers on his bed as he went faster and faster his hips slapping into hers. Every trust he made filled him with more power until it snapped and his demon form appeared.

She gasped and moaned loudly at the sight of his gorgeous wings. He lifted her hips higher as her trusted harder into her cave. She moaned louder then she had before as he found that treasured spot many men look for to please a woman. He smirked as he trusted deeper into her hitting that spot as much as he could with the most force he could. “L-Luci-!” She says in between moans. He grins wider then ever his pride growing knowing he’s doing this to her and no one else. He trusts faster as he can feel his end coming. But he was not finishing before he made her scream his name. He leans her over onto her side as he pounds into her trusting his hips harder into the treasure trove as his release nears. Her body shudders and her cave walls clench around his pride as she moans loudly. “L-LUCIFER!!” She screams his name he grunts and thrusts into her faster feeling his end nearing as her walls soften around him. He shudders and groans as his end finally comes.

They both breathe heavily and try to catch their breaths. She looks up at him and sees his gorgeous eyes. Her eyes flutter as they move to his wings. He takes a deep breath after realising that he was in his demon form. “A-apologies.” He says and exhales before returning to his humanoid form. “I-it’s o-kay..” she says her eyelids heavy as they close. He pulls out of her and lays next to her removing the used condom from his pride and tosses it in the bin before covering her with the quilt of his bed and cuddles her wanting to keep her warmth the himself.

Time skip~

After a while an alarm is heard. ______, sits up and looks at the time hearing her phone. “D-dinner!” She gasps and gets up and gets dressed quickly. Lucifer smirks but let’s her go. “I want you back her after dinner by the way...” he says looking at her putting his arms behind his head. She blushes but nodded and after getting dressed left the room shutting the door and walking downstairs.

Lucifer smirked to himself and chuckled slightly. He lied about his room being soundproof.

~~~~~

Hope you enjoyed.

Lucifer is my favourite of the brothers.

Until next time.....

[venuszn]

☆ : The Prologue

Cw / Princess x Royal Guard AU, Fem!reader x Bada, Bada is dressed as a man, Male pronouns used, Slight misogyny, Mentions of death, Angst, Slowburn

Series / Enchanted

Wc / 2.2K words

Next

Multiple pairs of busy hands poke and prod you as you inhale what feels like your final breath of air. Your hair, perfectly primmed, lays pinned back revealing your soft but disgruntled face powdered with the latest cosmetics that the maids insisted you try - especially for this occasion. A small hiss shoots from your tinted lips as the bones of the corset dig further into your ribs, as if intending to merge with you.

“Any tighter and I might burst.” You snip, eyeing the old maid that stood at your behind as she laced you into oblivion.

Her eyes flicker to you through the mirror and a meek smile rests on her lips. “Forgive me, Princess. But when you capture the attention of a worthy suitor, this will be the last thought on your mind.” She utters smoothly as her skilled fingers work the laces into a bow - ready to send you off as a gift to whoever would be fearless enough to court you.

Two other maids guide your gown as it slips over you, swallowing you whole and you feel like you’re drowning.

Your frown deepens and you scowl at your reflection. “I look like a disfigured teapot.”

The old maid chuckles briefly, “No, Princess. You look like a decorative teapot, ready for display.”

She takes a step back and admires her work. A gown, coloured by the softest of pinks, graces your frame. Gentle shimmers of jewels and stones dance along your chest and a long silk fabric cascades around your waistline in a waterfall of modesty and beauty - a testament for the standards you were bound to.

You sigh and begrudgingly allow a pair of silk gloves to don your hands.

“Do cheer up, Princess. You’re wearing your mother’s jewels today.”

Your stomach drops and your heart follows. You hated the mention of your mother. You hated how others before you had the privilege of knowing her whilst you did not. You hated how she was able to live on in the memories of those who were not you. Wouldn’t she pay you a visit ? Perhaps come to you during the peace of the moon, gently stroke your hair and show herself to you in a dream or a memory ? But you knew better. After spending countless nights of your younger years weeping into your sheets and praying to the heavens for your mother to return, whether in flesh or recollection, you knew that it was in vain. She passed when you were a child and now you would only dream of becoming half the woman she was. The Queen was amiable and dutiful, she was devoted to the throne and thus, adored and loved by all. However, you were brash and outspoken and you chafed under the corsets and constraints of the crown. The people did not hate you but they did not love you either.

“My mother was able to marry who she loved. I believe that I can do the same, can I not ?” You stubbornly state.

“That was under different circumstances. Now stop frowning so much. A Princess mustn't have frown lines or wrinkles.”

The old maid gently chides as she delicately places a length of diamonds around your neck and you watch as it shimmers along with the tiara that sat poised and tucked into your hair.

“You look breathtaking my dear, just like your mother. I just wish you would refrain from frightening all the men that look your way. Heaven knows you need a strong man, especially due to recent events.” She says, worry knitted along her brows. You cherished her words and admired the beauty of the wisdom written in lines across her face - an honour to her years.

But you adherently believed that there were no men left worthy of your stature and you disliked the games of the little boys that paraded themselves as men.

“I will be perfectly fine. Doesn’t father have a tired list of personal guards that he has been assigning to stalk me every waking hour of the day ?”

“And each one of those guards have been injured protecting you and have been replaced each time. The king only cares for your safety.” She voices in a gentle manner.

You sigh and run your silk clad palms over your dress, smoothing imaginary wrinkles. “What he cares about is marrying me off to some half-witted ape that doesn’t want a wife but a bearer of children and nothing more. That is not me.” You state with firmness.

“Your father has seen to it that you marry a prince actually. He is from the neighbouring border and rumour has it that he is a fine young man. You have nothing to worry about, have some trust my dear.”

You possessed not an ounce of trust. You were wary and hesitant when it came to bonding with others. Throughout your years you had come to learn that most people did not care for the person wearing the crown but cared for the social elevation that would come from associating with it. You had no friends, no acquaintances - unless the maids and the palace walls applied. The remaining atom of trust that you had belonged to the old maid and to your father, although you were angry at him at the moment.

“I have met many princes. I am yet to be swept off of my feet.” You say dryly.

The old maid smiles at you fondly, “Promise me that you will not frighten this one away. It has been decided you marry him, regardless of whatever antics you have up your never ending sleeve of mischief.”

You snort and turn to face her, elbows slightly bent and hands placed proper and poised in front of you as you interlock your fingers. “I cannot promise that, unfortunately.” You say with a slight raise of your brow.

The old maid chuckles once more, “If you so desperately need to escape, you know where to find me, Princess. I was there for your mother and I am here for you.”

You smile for the first time that evening.

“That is if I am able to flee from whichever godforsaken stalker that father has now recruited for me.”

“I hear you will meet him also tonight.”

“How wonderful, I doubt he will last long.”

You now stand before two grand doors. The muffled sound of chatter and violins resonate through the thick solid walls and you do as you have grown accustomed to, you inhale a deep breath and force a smile onto your lips, although it fails to reach your eyes - they remain vacant. But nobody ever realised, and if they did they never uttered a word.

The palace guards that stood upright at their post reached out and opened the doors.

You step forward onto the balcony overlooking the ballroom and your presence alone silences the nattering of the audience beneath you. They look at you, probing you with their eyes as they inspect you, some with curiosity and others with anticipation of whatever scene you intend to cause tonight.

You were now on display, a decorative teapot.

You allow another palace guard to guide you down the stairs, your wrist delicately limp and fingers poised in his hold. You ignore the stares and maintain your posture, back straight and head held high on relaxed shoulders. You mutter a gentle ‘thank you’ as you reach the ground and you catch sight of the king, your father.

The King crosses the ballroom floor, parting the colourful sea of socialites in his steps. He approaches you with tired but kind eyes and reaches for your hand, which you allow, not that the choice was yours but your skin didn’t crawl at his hold and you knew that he was still your father.

“Father.” You curtsy with a graceful dip of your head.

“My dear.” He says gently as he gazes at your attire. “You look beautiful.” His eyes fall on the diamonds illuminating your skin. “Your mother would have loved to witness the fine woman you have grown to become. And on this day in particular, where you meet your future husband.”

Your smile falters for a second and you suddenly remember why you are angry at your father. His kind words now dismissed and discarded. “Oh father, you mustn’t go through all that trouble. There is no rush for me to marry.”

“Nonsense. There is much urgency and you are aware. Hence, the need for a suitable husband and a much more productive bodyguard.”

You press further, eyes flaming with obstinance. “Surely a suitable husband could also act as my protector, rendering the need for a personal guard useless. Shouldn’t he be ready and willing to take a bullet for me, a stab of a sword, perhaps unrelenting torture ?”

Your father gives you a look, as equally intense, telling you to behave.

You almost fail to notice the two additional presences standing before you. Your father clears his throat and extends his arm sidewards.

“My dear, meet your husband.”

The man takes a confident step forward and lowers his top half in a deep bow.

“Your Majesty.” His voice deep and clear as he reaches to kiss your knuckles. “What a pleasure it is to meet my wife. I have longed for this moment, I have spent many nights dreaming of you.”

You fight the urge to recoil under his touch and feign another smile.

“It is a pleasure to meet you as well. Although, we are not married. I am not your wife.” You say gently, forcing the venom down your throat as you stare at him with disinterest.

The prince chuckles with gusto as if you uttered the most humorous of words. “You truly are fiery. Nothing that cannot be tamed under the right man.”

You snatch your hand back but your face remains even-tempered. “And you believe yourself to be that man ?”

“I do. And by next summer you will too, princess.”

Your brow raises in confusion.

“That is when we are to be wed.” He announces with finality.

“Oh, joy.”

Your attention shifts to the man occupying your father's left side. Your eyes meet and you suddenly feel as if mighty waves have swept away the entire room, leaving only the two of you. His tall frame towers over the prince and inches over the king. Deep brown orbs fiercely peirce into you with a steadfast gaze as he stands chest puffed and back stiff. Long arms lay firm and proper at his sides before he takes a bow. You find yourself unable to tear away your eyes.

“Your Majesty.” His voice was light but modulated with something you could not pinpoint.

Nonetheless, it sounded sweet like honey to your ears and you deliberated on whether to force the man to read you a book later on.

As he rose your eyes remained on him. You found yourself captivated by his aura, it was nothing like the men that you were used to. The allure of his appearance and his spirited gaze - you were enchanted by the person before you.

“This is your new personal guard. He is from the Lee family. So the standards are exceptionally high and I trust he will serve you well.” Your father says, moreso to him than to you.

“It is a pleasure to meet you. I hope you will be able to keep up, especially with me.” You say with a slight tease and your father frowns.

“You will never leave my sight, Princess. And I will never leave your side. My duty is to protect you and I will ensure that is the case, regardless of your usual tricks and jests.” Your newly assigned guard stated.

“Oh, so you are aware of those ?” You press with a smirk.

He looks right at you, face expressionless. “I am aware of everything about you, princess.”

You feel your heart perform a skip and a jump and you find yourself leaning in ever so slightly.

“Lovely to know you take your role as my stalker seriously. My father has really outdone himself.”

You were so deeply engrossed in the pull of the tides you had not noticed when your father stepped aside along with your husband-to-be, who now stood peacocking for a horde of ladies.

Men.

“I am not your stalker, princess. I am your guard. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“What is your name ?”

“Bada, of the Lee family.” He states with conviction.

“Well Bada, are you willing to cross oceans for me ? To part the seas if it means my safety ?” You tease further.

“I am. Because it is the duty I have sworn to.”

You frown a little.

“Is everything a duty ?”

“Regarding you, yes.”

Your hands pick up your gown, preparing to march away. “I am a person - not a duty. That is what your predecessors failed to understand. If I were you, I would focus on the sharp stick that appears to be lodged up your backside. Pray it doesn't puncture a vital organ.”

You swiftly turn on your heel and strut away.

Bada doesn't miss a beat and follows your trail, walking behind you with arms tucked at his back. Unbeknownst to you, a slight crack of a smirk briefly played on his lips.

You were truly a handful. But it was nothing he wasn't prepared to handle.

Authors note / Hi all, sorry for the wait ! This is my first time writing a series, especially one that is a royal au. I was researching and hoping I could portray the atmosphere as accurately as possible lol. A little bit of my inspiration comes from Mulan and the time period where my story takes place is during the regency era - much like Bridgerton ! As usual feel free to lmk your thoughts and I hope you'll enjoy 'Enchanted ' 💗

Taglist / / @princhii , @lil-elliesgf , @wiselight @nimixe ! [Feel free to lmk if you would like to be added or removed]

[anjelicawrites]

In the wake of this ask and this other ask, what happens between Tom Bennett and his badass nurse once the war is over.

Pairing: Dommish!Nurse!Reader x subbish!Tom Bennett Warnings: mention of death, mention of nightmares, kissing, fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, mention of painful sex, overstimulation, mention of spanking.

NSFW and 18 + only please!

Once the military hospital you worked at was closed, you went back to Manchester, to your old civilian hospital, and life. You didn't know what to expect, surely not to feel so empty. Your friends, those who haven't been killed in the war, have tried to drag you along to the movies or to dances so that you could meet new people, namely those fun American soldiers still in England; you have tried, dolled yourself up and danced you feet off, even tried to flirt with some of the people you've met, to no avail. Ever since you stepped foot in your flat, you've been feeling like you're observing life through a glass wall: you're there but you're not, the people around you laugh and cry and fall in love and you're like the spectator of a play. For this reason you've taken to stay at home more, tending to your plants and reading books in the hope that you'd stop feeling like a guest in your own life.

You huff as you remove your gardening gloves and put them on the table: the roots of the plants have finally enough room in the newer pots and moving them next to the windows will help them grow. The bell rings and you whip your head around: you're not expecting anyone and the only person in the building who used to come and visit has recently passed away. You blow a stray hair off your nose and head towards the door, perhaps is your friend Bess who tries to drag you to the cinema, or maybe to the pub, at every chance she has, saying that you need some fresh air for your health.

"Hello love."

For a moment you don't recognize him, you were so used to see him in his hospital issued pajamas, or his uniform the day he was discharged back into military life, that his civilian clothes almost don't suit him.

"Tom? Tom Bennett?"

You're surprised to see him on your doorstep. You two have been writing to one another, letters that arrived late or not at all, his riddled with grammar mistakes, yours with your fast handwriting; when you knew the date of the closing of the hospital, you sent him your home address, not truly expecting him to keep on writing once the war ended, but you felt bad to deny him the chance.

You never thought he would show up, uninvited and unexpected.

"You look good." He drawls. "You too Tom." You can't help but smile. "Come in! Don't stay on the threshold!"

You head for the kitchen as he gingerly observes your small flat, all with potted plants and books everywhere.

"When did you ship back? And what are you doing here?"

You sense him hovering next to the kitchen door.

"I've just returned." You can sense his eyes raking down your body. "And you promised me a date, love."

You turn around and lean against the counter, your breast pushed out, eyebrow raised.

"The way I'm remembering it I didn't promise you anything, Tommy."

He advances towards you with a smirk on his lips.

"We both survived the war, haven't we? You said you'd let me take you out on a date if that happened."

He tries to crowd you against the counter and his scent attacks you, cigarettes and something wild you've never been able to recognize.

"So we did." You place a hand on the soft jumper he's wearing. "That needs a celebration."

He tries to get even closer to you but you're faster and manage to regain your freedom: as much as you are happy to see him, you're still the boss.

"The tea is in the cupboard near the window. If we're going out I need to get ready."

You take your time in dolling yourself up, choosing one of the best dresses you own and putting on more make up that what's usual when you go out with your friends. As you're getting ready, you hear Tom move around your space, trying to be as quiet as possible as he sips his tea.

There have been people who have tried to get to know you on a deeper lever, and you've always stopped them, with Tom, whenever he would ask questions, you never felt compelled to clam up; with him talking about yourself came natural and now that you can hear him walk around your living room, you don't feel the push to come out of your bedroom and chastise him. You don't know what's with Tom that makes you accept his antics and his curiosity, or why you were so happy to receive his letters, even littered as they were with grammar mistakes that made your skin crawl.

He stops on his tracks when he sees you, his mouth hangs open a little, his eyes rake up and down your body and you can see the wheels turning in his head.

"If I were you, I'd ponder on what's going to come out of my mouth."

Jesus, slipping back into the playful tone you used with him most of the times is so easy.

"The old uniform did you no justice." He says, after a beat.

Back at the military hospital he rarely had the chance to see you naked, he was always on his knees, eating you out as if you were his last meal. You two never had full intercourse and you were never in your civilian clothes, and now you've purportedly chosen a dress and brasserie that enhance whatever curves being on rations left you.

"Thank you. You look dapper yourself." You answer with a smile.

He was stunning in his sailor uniform and he is now in his clothes. You can see that the trousers and jumper are old, but they are well kept and enhance his long legs and wide shoulders; the way he smiles lets you know that he's well aware of the fact.

"Shall we go?" He asks, extending his hand. "Yes." You answer.

You remember when Tom had told you that dates with him were never boring, internally you had scoffed at that, but you have to change your mind as you two dash around town, without a destination, until you two find refuge in a pub when you are both too tired to walk around.

How you two manage to find a table and chairs is nothing short of a miracle, the place is packed with people of all ages, ready to celebrate and imagine a brighter future. You are sitting, waiting for Tom to come back with the beers, that you realize one thing: you don't feel like you're watching life from behind a glass wall. For the first time since you came back, the happiness bubbling in your chest is real, so is the smile you feel stretching your lips. All thanks to Tom.

After a pint, endless rounds of darts and an almost brawl with a group of drunken US soldiers, you and Tom are walking in the vague direction of your flat.

Tom has told you that his house was destroyed and that he was crashing at his sister's, at least temporarily, until something comes up.

"A friend of my dad offered me to take his job." He says, with an inflection in his voice you can't truly decipher. "Is it so bad?"

Tom doesn't look at you when he answers, he focuses his blue eyes on the stars dotting the sky over you two.

"After everything." His hand makes a wide gesture. "It feels anticlimactic."

You understand. You weren't in the line of fire, but the rhythm at the military hospital were faster, the stakes higher than the work you're doing now at your old post, and it feels surreal to go back to the person you were before. As if you hadn't seen countless young men die in pain, calling for their mothers, as if you don't wake up when the nightmares are too horrible.

"I suppose that's what is expected of all of us. Go back to our boring lives and live on."

He shrugs at your words.

"There isn't much to go back to." You can hear the strain in his voice and it breaks your heart. "Perhaps it's a chance to build it, a newer place to go back to." "Perhaps." He answers and is lost in his thoughts.

The last leg of your walk towards your flat is silent, the sounds of the people around you two fill in for the lack of conversation; everyone seems so happy and carefree, how come that you, and you reckon Tom as well, can't be as everyone else? Or maybe the rest of the world is better at pretending than the two of you.

The violent rain that pours over you two breaks the spell as you two run and laugh, poor Tom even tries to cover you two with his jacket, but risks to make you fall in the puddles that have already formed on the broken pavement. You two are drenched and try not to make too much of a racket as you climb upstairs to your flat, a couple of your neighbors wouldn't be too happy to see you take an unknown boy home.

The silence you two now share is filled with anticipation, all those sad thoughts gone, for the moment. Tom plasters himself behind you, the wet clothes you two are wearing make so much easier for you to feel the outline of his hard cock pressed against your arse.

"If I were you I'd behave Mr. Bennett." You whisper, barely stifling a giggle. "Or what will you do to me if I don't?" He growls in your ear.

You push your arse backwards, rubbing purportedly against him.

"You'd love a spanking too much for it to be a punishment. Perhaps I should ruin your orgasms, that had been fun!"

Tom mumbles something against your hair.

"What was that?" "It wasn't fun when you did that." He pouts. "It was for me and that's how usually how punishment work; if you like it, you'll never going to learn."

You two tumble inside the miniature hallway; you barely manage to lock the door, that Tom cages you against the wall and the ancient wallpaper you should have changed eons ago. Thanks to the moon illuminating the living room, you can see the fire burning in Tom's eyes, the way he bites his reddened lower lip makes your cunt quiver: you've missed talented mouth and realize only now.

"Let me kiss you." He moans as his eyes zeroed on your lips.

Even since you've ruined his orgasm as a punishment, he had wanted to kiss you, taste your lips, make you moan and you'd never let him.

"I think there's another set of lips that need you attention first."

Your hand finds the top of his head as he falls on his knees with a smirk: he's missed your taste and you have no idea how much.

His hands fly to the hem of your dress to bunch it around your hips to uncover the pretty panties and garter belt you're wearing, the silk is so soft under his fingers and your center already wet for him, that he moans at the thought of finally tasting you again after so long. Careful he unhooks your stockings from the small pegs and rolls them down your legs to then set them aside, he remembers how prissy you can be whenever he's being messy. Hungry he kisses your tummy, his tongue licks the salt of your skin and you laugh at how ticklish it feels; he grins when his lips meet your panties, his long fingers slowly push them down your legs, uncovering your already weeping center. He can't help himself, he licks your left tight, wet already with your essence, and he moans, wanton, needy.

With a cheeky grin he puts the panties in his pocket. You don't have the chance to chastise him, that his lips curl around your clit, sucking harshly, hungry for your taste as he is for water; two of his fingers breach you, hurriedly looking for that rough patch that makes your hips kick against his face. Like a desperate man he licks your clit, his tongue writes nonsense against your apex, in tandem with the thrusting of his fingers inside of you, as your muscles tighten around him and your whine your pleasure. You're drenched and he moans against you, his tongue now sweeps the whole of your cunt, his lips suck and kiss your labia until he finds your clit again and his teeth lightly nibble at the small bundle, before sucking it again. Your head bangs against the wall as pleasure zaps up and down your spine, your hips push against his face, your hands grab his hair to plaster him better against yourself; your almost scream when his tongue enters your, rigid and fast inside your wet walls, and his nose finds your clit, moving at the perfect angle. You whine and whine as both his tongue and finger fuck you, you feel the pleasure build as his tongue tries to lick your essence and his index pushes steadily against that rough patch inside of you in tandem with the way his nose moves against your clit.

Broken whines and moans spill from your lips when you come all over his face, and he keeps fucking you, prolonging the pleasure. You try to dislodge his face, but his lips are around your clit again, to suck harshly, deaf and blind to the way you keen and your body arches, desperate to stop the pleasure: he needs you to come again, needs to drink from you or he'll die. Pressure builds inside of you, your hips kick in his hold faster and faster, his lips suck your clit with as much strength as he can muster, and you come again, drenching his face.

He has to carry you on the bed, your legs tremble too much for you to walk there. With the utmost care he lays you there and finishes undressing you; unconsciously he licks his lips when your breasts are uncovered, your nipples pert and begging to be worshiped, like the rest of you. Hastily he undresses himself, proud of his erect cock under your hungry gaze, and leaves his clothes on a chair in the corner; he doesn't want to be spanked, not when he can finally have you fully, the way he's dreamed for so long.

You're burning with your own desire, your fingers find your center and slip inside, shallowly fucking your wet hole as you appreciate his strong body and tick cock. With a low growl Tom stalks towards you, until he can cage you under himself and your hand can wound around his erection to lay it between your drenched lips so that he can start moving against you, moaning at your warmth.

He needs to slip inside of you, his cock strains for your hole, but he has to wait for your permission, for you to tell him that he can take you and loose himself in your depths. He almost comes untouched when you order him to breach you, he has to focus on the designs on your bed sheets when his head is enveloped by your muscles and his cock is sucked in; he doesn't want to come like a horny teenager, he wants to pleasure you first, until you can't take it anymore.

"I've been... I've been dreaming of this, ah!" He babbles, almost chocking on his tongue when your cunt clenches midstroke. "Have you been touching yourself, pretty sailor? Imagining your hand was my cunt?"

The sultriness of your voice cuts through the haze of pleasure enveloping his brain, forcing him to stop his advance inside of you, or he'll come. His arms tremble with the effort to keep his weight and you use his weakness to turn you two around, straddling him, your cunt hungrily swallowing his cock: it has been a while and Tom is extremely well endowed.

As wet as you are, it's still difficult for your body to accept his invasion; the more you lower yourself, the painful it becomes to make sure he bottoms out. When a painful wail escapes his lips, Tom stops your descent with worry in his eyes.

"Am I hurting you?" "A bit, Tommy, but that's fine, I like it when it hurts."

Stubbornly you try to take more of him, your eyes clenched shut in pain.

"Yellow!"

You stop immediately and look into his eyes.

"I don't want to hurt you."

You can see how afraid he is of maiming you and your heart skips a beat: all your previous partner were into pain as you were, or didn't care whether or not they were hurting you, either way none of them gave a damn about your well being, Tom is a first.

"Do you want to stop?"

Now you are as worried as he is: scarring him is not part of the plan. Tom is conflicted, your cunt feels like heaven around him, but he knows he's ticker than most, he's had girls refusing to have sex with him, because they were afraid of his cock. He'd do anything for you, but he'll never harm you.

"I don't want to hurt you." He says earnestly and his concern brings tears in your eyes.

Gently he turns your entwined bodies on the bed and slips out of you, his cock resting between your labia again.

"You're not hurting me, Tommy." Your hand cups his cheeks and he rubs against it like a cat. "I could see it in your face." "You're a lot Tommy, and I love it. My body just needs a moment to take you in fully."

His forehead finds yours as your fingers card through his hair, gently calming him; his breath slows down as his lips hover on yours and you close the distance.

His taste explodes in your mouth, cigarette and your own essence dance on your tongue as his slides inside your mouth, searching and seeking with renowned hunger.

"Let me take care of you." He says, breathless, when your lips disconnect. "Yes, Tommy." You moan back.

It's torment the way his cock slides between your labia, drenching himself in your honey, how your hole clenches around nothing with every push of his head against your engorged clit; you moan in the kiss and rub yourself against him, hungry for his cock.

It's with slow pushes and pulls that Tom breaches you again, his lips never leaving yours as he enters you, leisurely, making sure that's the reaction of your body that guide his advance, the moans that escape your interlocked lips his only map; when he enters you fully your body arches, lips leaving his when you whine like a lost animal.

"I did... Christ!" He groans. "Imagined your cunt, ah! This is better! Oh God!"

Your ankles interlock behind him, keeping him safe inside of you as he tries to reign his orgasm in: you two are coming together, when your cunt strangles his cock, or it's nothing at all.

He keeps kissing you as he starts moving, figures of eight that make you whine, your hips following his when he fucks you faster, his thrust shorter against your spot, your muscles pulsating around his erection, sucking him in when he tries to leave; you're wound so tight around him he can barely grind against you, and your clit, pleasure zapping up your spine like a lashing that makes you whine in the kiss, your nails scratching down his back as your hips follow his, feeling the immense pressure build inside yourself with every passing, his inarticulate sounds of pleasure spurring you on.

The fist of your cunt around his erection almost hurts when you come, taking him with you, drowning him in an abyss of pleasure.

You wake up in the middle of the night, not used to have someone sleep with you; usually you kick out your partners after they're done, not truly understanding the need to have them cuddle you after the deed is done. But Tom is another thing, he's not one of the many people you've shagged and forgotten, he's something else, something you can't name. You try to move in his embrace and feel his semi erect cock rub against your naked arse, you snuggle closer to him, not truly wanting to care about the future. You will need to name this, put it in its rightful place in your life; not tonight, though, when Tom is keeping you warm in a way anyone ever managed to do before.

[delta-pavonis]

Ficlet: Wake Up My Body

So I was at a drag show with live piano and singing this weekend and there were a whole slew of Broadway songs and this idea hit me like the broadside of a barn (strongly influenced by @ginoeh's piano-playing Hob in Strains of a Melody). Absolute tooth-rotting fluff songfic for you here. Might continue with a second bit that gets to the spicy stuff, but what is below is just idiots in love and Hob in drag. Oh, and here is my new favorite version of the second song Hob sings, from Wicked. Dreamling || Rated T || 2k words

Hob had told Dream – insisted really, multiple times, in that one evening of re-acquaintance – that he was welcome to visit at any time. Day or night. Weekday or weekend. Whether Hob was at work (absolutely come see me lecture!) or at home (it isn't much, but I would love for you to see it) or at another location (usually right here at the New Inn, but occasionally I get out more, I swear). 

Ergo, this must be something Hob is okay with Dream seeing. 

Then why does Dream feel like he is intruding? 

Perhaps it is because Dream has never seen Hob look like this, or sing like this, or create like this (never even conceived that he could). 

Hob (and it is Hob, of that Dream has no doubt) is standing stage left, facing center stage, behind a keyboard set-up, in what might be the tightest and shortest black dress Dream has witnessed on a Waking person. If the ruching is any indication, the garment could be pulled down to Hob’s knees, but that would cover the garters that hold up his stockings at mid-thigh and wouldn’t those be a tragedy to cover up. The stockings are a rich grass green to match the shades of lipstick and eyeshadow on Hob’s face and the color of the satin beneath the black lace of his fingerless elbow-length gloves. Around his neck is a similarly green leather choker, large polished brass ring in the center matching the hardware of the garters and the finger-thick chains that serve as straps over his shoulders. Said chains hook to another large brass ring that sits between his shoulder blades, off of which comes a half dozen more chains venturing down to loop into fabric and keep the dress from falling off of him, especially considering that the open back dips down almost to Hob’s ass. The front of the dress scoops low and might as well be painted over Hob’s nipples as his chest hair gleams with a thin sheen of sweat from the stage lights. Hob’s hair is tousled and styled to look intentionally messy, the soft waves curling under his chin.

There is another human male in feminine attire, this set all pinks and whites and sparkles, across from him, belting into a hand-held microphone while Hob’s is a headset that loops around the back of his neck. 

Though I do admit it came on fast I do believe that it can last! And I will be loathing For forever loathing Truly deeply loathing you My whole life long!

The duet ends to raucous applause and whistles, many people waving money in the air, which the person who is not Hob gleefully collects, dancing around on precariously high heels. 

Dream is going to make his presence known, step out of the shadows, but then Hob is laughing and speaking to the audience as they continue to scream and cheer. “You know I can’t resist that song when I have my Elphaba on. Thank you Candy Baa, ewe are always such a bleat-ing pleasure to work with.” Everyone laughs as she sends kisses Hob’s way and walks off stage. Hob, meanwhile, turns to the audience. “You want another one?”

The volume of the audience increases and Dream can’t help but smile at how Hob clearly has everyone eating out of his hand. 

“Well good! Because I am gonna do another one whether you like it or not!” Laughter intermixes with more cheering. “Hey, my darling Aaron, get your little twink arse up here and take the mic.”

There is clapping and whistling as a man in very tight black leather pants and heeled boots emerges from the crowd and hops onto the stage, long blonde ponytail glinting in the lights. He wears a deep indigo tank top that also might as well be painted on for all it conceals as he bows theatrically low to Hob. “What do you wish of me, my dear Elph-Rob-a?” There is a collective groan, but Dream can only see the playful, familiar body language between the two people on stage, making him frown. 

Hob plays a series of descending notes as he goes, “wah-waaah,” then adjusts his own mic. “Make that joke again and I will smack that smirk off your pretty face.”

Aaron stands up, laughing, leaning towards Hob and arching an eyebrow suggestively. “Promise?”

A flash of… something… burns in Dream’s chest when Hob chuckles in response, shaking his head. “Such a fucking slut, my god. No wonder you like playing Fiyero so much.” More laughter from the audience. 

“Hey, you are just as into this shit as me, Robbie.” He turns to the audience. “Besides, y’all are in for a treat tonight… We have sung this song many times together, yet Robbie here blew me away in rehearsals. Seems like he has a special someone who he is thinking about when he sings this one, now.”

There is a definite blush that blooms on Hob’s cheeks beneath the rouge, but he doesn’t seem fazed by the teasing, just rolling his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Like a schoolgirl with a crush. Blah blah blah. I won’t deny it.” He plays some opening chords. “Now let’s do this before I age out of the part.”

As the music builds, Hob hums along wordlessly for a bit, eyes sliding closed, then starts singing, a sweet and joyful hunger already infused in every note.

Kiss me too fiercely Hold me too tight. I need help believing You’re with me tonight.

Dream inhales sharply. Aaron was correct about how Hob is inserting himself into this song, Dream can feel the daydream coalescing around him. 

My wildest dreamings Could not foresee Lying here beside you With you wanting me.

He has to grit his teeth as the daydream strengthens, pulling at its Lord. Dream does not want to intrude on his friend in this way. And, further, he does not want to know who Hob wants in such a way, should not risk it given his sudden desire to send them minor nightmares. 

And just for this moment, As long as you’re mine, I’ve lost all resistance And crossed some borderline. And if it turns out It’s over too fast I’ll make every last moment last. As long as you’re mine.

This was a terrible idea. To stay after he saw that Hob is busy. Dream should have gone. But now he is rooted to the spot and realizing that, first off, his friend has a powerful voice that commands attention, and second, that it would be oh so easy to imagine being the person Hob is singing to. Singing about. Dream had not thought… well, it no longer matters what he used to think he felt about Hob, does it? Because this, this right now, is most definitely not friendship.

Hob opens his eyes, gentle smile on his face, as Aaron begins to sing.

Maybe I’m brainless, Maybe I’m wise, But you’ve got me seeing Through different eyes. Somehow I’ve fallen Under your spell. And somehow I’m feeling It’s up that I fell.

This specific story is one that was written while Dream was caged, but the beats are familiar for the form is old. Unexpected love, accepted with abandon, with full knowledge that it might end and even so it would be worth it, just to experience the other person fully and be changed by them in turn. This is the kind of love Calliope would inspire into one of her epics. Dream aches for remembering how such a thing feels and yet knows that he would do it again without a second thought.

Hob’s daydream continues to gain momentum as they start to sing together.

Every moment As long as you’re mine I’ll wake up my body And make up for lost time Say there’s no future For us as a pair And though I may know I don’t care!

Dream can admit that the two tenors compliment each other. He can admit it. He would just probably never do it out loud. He can hear Matthew calling him petty even as he thinks it. The problem is that Matthew would likely say that with no little amount of pride in his voice. 

Hob stops playing and steps around the keyboard, continuing a capella. He and Aaron are certainly playing the parts, eyes only for each other. In a moment that Dream will later claim is temporary insanity, he sinks into the shadows at his back and emerges within the shadows of one wing of the stage, directly behind Aaron, so that now Hob is facing him, too, although he is careful to remain unseen.

Just for this moment As long as you’re mine Come be how you want to And see how bright we shine!

He realizes his error immediately. Dream cannot remain separate from the daydream this close to its source, not one that pulls upon him this strongly.

What Hob is seeing flickers to life, overtaking Aaron where he stands, superimposing someone taller, if just as thin, with similar boots and tight blank pants. As Dream’s eyes travel upwards they take in the bottom of a black peacoat, the tailored waist, the collar melding with the wild black hair atop the daydream’s head.

Dream cannot look away as the pair sways with the emotion in the lyrics and then he sees them both in semi-profile and that confirms it beyond any shadow of a doubt. Something inside Dream lurches.

Hob is imagining himself singing opposite Dream.

Borrow the moonlight Until it is through And know I’ll be here Holding you. As long as you’re mine.

As the song comes to a close, Hob looks down and they lapse into a small bit of dialog, Aaron’s voice coming out through a mirage of Dream’s lips. “What is it?”

“It’s just for the first time, I feel…” Hob huffs a laugh and looks up with a spark of fire in his eyes, “wicked.”

Aaron leans in as if to kiss Hob and – with a flood of relief Dream studiously refuses to look at closely right now – his friend avoids at the last minute, ending up with their cheeks pressed together. 

The entire place erupts into screaming, hands with money flying into the air. 

From here, Dream can hear Aaron speak away from the mics as the daydream fades around him. “Man, you always kiss me at the end of that. You must have it bad for this guy.”

Hob’s chuckle is very self-deprecating, “Aaron, you have no ideah!” 

That’s when Dream realizes that the shadows that were once around him have receded slightly as the spotlight moved to track the singers. His friend is staring right at him.

Hob is in front of Dream in three long strides, which he does not note causes the skirt to slide higher, absolutely not. “Dream!” He reaches up to his ear and drops the mic to around his neck, clicking it off in the process. His voice is a breathless whisper, “My friend, how long have you been here? I can’t believe you get to see me like…” Hob motions to his body and Dream doesn’t even try to stop himself from looking, all the way down to his stiletto heels and back up to his face that is a solid half-foot higher than usual. He doesn’t seem embarrassed, just amused.

“I have…” Dream looks into Hob’s warm, welcoming eyes and finds himself unable to lie. “I have been here long enough to see the daydream you created while singing that last song.”

The black eyeliner and fake lashes make Hob’s widening expression look even more dramatic. “You… daydream…”

“I am the King of all dreams, Hob. All of them.” He brings the tips of his fingers up to just barely brush Hob’s cheek. “And I think we need to… talk…” Dream trails them down to Hob’s lips, brushing across them with gentle pressure. A thrill shivers through him as Hob’s pupils dilate. “... about who you want to be holding you.” He traces down Hob’s throat and lingers for a moment above his collarbone before his hand wraps around  the side of Hob’s neck in a tight grip, forcing a moan past painted lips. “Because the song is right,” Dream has to increase the heels on his own shoes to bring his mouth close to Hob’s. “We need to make up for lost time.”

[unhinged-summer-fun]

common grounds (oshamir) - chapter 16

Pairing: Osha Aniseya x Qimir "The Stranger"

A/N: So many thanks to @desertbcrnnobody for betaing this chapter!! Dividers by me once again. If you haven't checked out the playlists for Act I, Unknown Planet Dance Night, & Qimir's iPod, give them a look <3 Welcome to Act II, everybody!

series masterlist

chapter 16: the second kind of lie

Osha’s stranger rubbed at his forehead like it would help with anything. The one saving grace of this meeting was that it was a phone conference, so nobody had to see the faces he pulled from his seat in his office. He’d said his piece more than an hour ago, but now had to suffer through the invaluable reports from Marketing and Administration. Reports, or… whatever this shit was.

“…as we know, that’s when football and basketball typically start up—”

“Mike, please try to remember we don’t have a football team.”

“We have a football field.”

“It’s a multipurpose outdoor exercise area.”

“I don’t see how that’s…”

He was going crazy.

His schedule had an entire thirty minutes blocked off after this meeting, just in case it goes over, the email had said. In his entire time working for the college, he’d suffered through a half-dozen of these meetings, and every single time, they went past the allotted time. Five years ago, the meeting was two hours. This time, it was looking more like three.

Maybe I should have just stayed in Khofar and never come back to—

His cell phone buzzed from a call. The stranger’s heart leaped into his throat with the thought that it might be Osha, but—

Incoming call: Idise Skrye - ICE

“Fuck,” he muttered, glad his office phone was muted. He declined the call and set the phone on his desk.

“…eventually have to accept that it’s a football field, Jim. We can’t—”

The phone started to ring again. The vibrations buzzed it closer to the edge of the desk.

Incoming call: Idise Skrye - ICE

Declined, again. He set it even further back, glaring at it now.

The stranger wasn’t the kind of man to let his anxiety take hold in any situation, let alone a situation he had complete control over. And he did have complete control. Idise wanting to involve herself with the recent changes and additions to his personal life was a non-starter.

He hadn’t needed her input or help for a very long time. And he certainly didn’t need her help in anything regarding Osha. Surely, that’s what she—

A text came in, a staccato buzz. He was about to ignore it, but something told him to check—and he was glad he did.

:) OSHA :) : I am now completely free on sundays now lol

He sighed. Vernestra’s crusade against Osha couldn’t be legal, not even remotely. None of her vendettas were, he thought bitterly. The others there had to know it; he knew it at sixteen when she had him living at the gym and working there every day.

But the problem then was the same now: they had nothing to prove it. The stranger’s time at the Temple left him with nothing: no achievements in his name, no prize money, no safety net or support, and worst of all, no paper trail to prove he was even there for a single day of those four years.

He spent nearly two years hitting every dead-end trail he was pointed down. Calling off the hunt was his choice, despite the disappointment from the others who helped; he had to let it go, or he’d kill himself trying to bring justice to the untouchable. They had all given up so much (too much) just to gain so little, and he called it off out of consideration for the others’ sacrifices as well. After that, he wore the name of Qimir Loharne as a funeral shroud instead of a banner to rally behind.

But admitting defeat was better than being defeated. 

His eyes cast up to the two small articles Osha had given him. She wasn’t sure of him when she gave him the first, and wasn’t sure of herself when she gave him the second.

The first time—the photo of himself, half-hidden behind his gloves—he’d had to earn it from her. All she’d said was that she’d seen the picture, not that she had it on her. She was testing his response to it, if unintentionally. She did that often, giving him pieces of herself by inches at a time, and only when he’d been forthcoming first. Both of them had such damaged senses of trust. She’d been betrayed by her sister, and he’d been betrayed by—well, everyone she still called family.

What a fucking mess he’d landed her in. She didn’t even see it yet. But she would, an annoyingly wise voice said in his mind—one that sounded a little too like Idise for comfort.

When Osha gave him the second article, the one printed more than twenty years ago, she’d been trepidatious and cute. They’d finished their first training session at Unplan together, and what a nightmare that could have been. Still, no hesitation, no tests, just—I found another picture of you. Her nerves were practically palpable in the seconds that followed, watching his reaction like an overeager child.

What had she expected him to do? Frisk her? Shout? Deny her? And when he’d asked her why she kept giving them to him (when he should have asked how do you keep finding these and can I hire you?) her answer had broken his heart.

There was a time that you had no evidence you existed besides your pain. You do exist beyond what happened to you. And you deserve to have proof of that.

Her gentle, unrelenting kindness killed him every day. She didn’t know who she was being kind to. She didn’t know the monster she was feeding crumbs to. It was difficult not to hate himself for it.

He didn’t hold out on hope that she would find another article like that. The first, he remembered, came from inside the Temple itself, which was a huge fluke, considering how thorough Vernestra had been everywhere else. Osha hadn’t told him where the other had come from, and he had to keep himself from wondering, let alone asking, because if she’d found it where he thought she had, there would probably be more—

No. He couldn’t think that way again. Folly or not, that line of thinking could have gotten him in deep shit, were it not for Osha stopping him all three—

No. Just stop thinking about it at all. It’s the past, and nothing came of it. Quit digging up the grave, asshole.

His knowledge lay in muscle groups, recovery timelines, and pain management. His life, his future, wasn’t meant to be spent agonizing over the past. He had to let it go.

“…the budget won’t magically widen because you want to watch football games at the f—multiporpoise—”

“Multipurpose.”

“That’s what I said.”

“You said porpoise.”

“So?”

He made a deal with himself—he’d stop thinking about these things again after this brain-blending meeting.

One idea remained at the center of everything—what if he did have evidence?

If he had evidence, he could convince others to give a testimony. If he had evidence and testimonials, he could take Vernestra to court. There was no way of knowing which lawyers already sat under Vernestra’s thumb. The most they’d ever found out about her lawyer was that he commanded a firm with a reputation for ruining lives.

And he knew just how well they could do it.

But then what? Even if he could pay for a lawyer with balls of fucking titanium, what would they do with their evidence and testimony? Would it be a civil suit, just settling things between Vernestra and himself the way they’d thought it’d be ten years ago? Would he attempt a criminal suit, exposing the harmful practices, gross negligence, and abuse of authority at the Temple?

Why stop there? Why not prosecute everyone else involved? Why not expose the viper den of corruption in the city and take down the Hutts, with all he knew? Why not burn the whole fucking city to the firmament, with the Temple at ground fucking zero?

See, this is why I can’t let myself think about it for too long, he thought bitterly.

“It’s not worth it to pursue this argument, Mike—”

“Argument? What argument?”

He texted Osha back.

Q: What would you like to do with all that free time?

O: Hmmmmmm…

O: Might have to get back to you on that ;)

He smirked down at his phone. Osha was fun. It’d been a long time since he’d let someone fun willingly into his life. For all he worked in a field run on games, he never attended to enjoy them. He monitored college athletes for injuries and worked hard to prevent more each gameday. Maybe he was just a grouch.

“…think the budget will allow for one alumnus box in the football f—”

“Mike, we’re not going to get through the agenda items if you keep—”

“Maybe we should call it a day…” The stranger recognized the voice of the assistant chair of the athletics department. He quickly punched off the mute on his phone.

“I concur, Brenda,” he said, as a cacophony of other voices joined in.

“Excellent suggestion, Brenda.”

“We can circle back offline about this, M—”

“Jeanine, can you—thank you, everybody, I’ll send a follow-up email in an hour… Two hours. I’ll see you Monday. Nevermind the email. Have a good weekend.”

Dear fucking god. Blessed silence. He closed his eyes, pulling his hat down over his eyes until the ringing in his ears stopped. Bzz-bzzt. He peeked at his phone.

:) OSHA :) : Wanna get lunch? Or is that meeting still happening????

A series of blank boxes came in beneath Osha’s message, which he now knew symbolized a barrage of emojis his phone couldn’t receive.

Q: The meeting just ended, thankfully. I can pic

A new text came in.

Idise Skrye - ICE: Avoiding me like this won’t end how you want it to, Qimir.

“Fat chance,” he muttered, clicking back to his conversation with Osha to finish his message. Another text came in, dragging him back to Idise. He groaned.

I: Is this about her?

He gave in, responding to her for the first time in nearly a year.

Q: Back off.

I: No.

I: You are WORRYING me.

Q: What I do with her doesn’t concern you.

Q: None of what I do concerns you.

I: You’re a spectacular liar if you’ve convinced yourself of that.

He already knew he was a good liar; he’d learned how to be a great one just recently. God, he hated himself.

Q: I’m fine.

Incoming call: Idise Skrye - ICE

He hit decline. Idise messaged him again.

I: I’m going to find out what’s going on eventually.

I: We’ve known each other too long for you to cut me out like this and not expect me to want answers.

Q: Get used to disappointment.

I: No :)

When one minute passed, then two, he accepted she was done with him. He breathed out in relief, but inhaled regret.

She is going to find out, he thought. It twisted his stomach.

They both are.

“Ankle?”

“Two.”

“Knee?”

“F—three.”

“Fthree?” he sounded dubious. It still stunned her that he could exert authority even on his knees before her.

“Three.”

“Are you sure it’s not a four?” he asked intently. “The temperature’s been dropping hard in the afternoons, and I know it gives me trouble.”

“Yes, I’m sure it’s not a four.”

He sat back on his knees, assessing her in that way that said, you have one more chance to answer honestly.

Osha scowled at him, just wanting him to tape her up. She’d been spoiled by his touch; she hadn’t realized how little physical affection she’d gotten growing up with Sol and the Temple until recently. But Qimir had always been touchy with her—form corrections, massages, assisted stretching—and now he’d cranked the dial to eleven. He loved touching her whenever she was in reach: straightening her clothes, adjusting her hair, and, of course, kissing her.

He squeezed her thigh, prompting an answer—an honest one.

“It’s a four.” If her voice came out a little squeakier at the feeling of his hand on her leg, then that was her problem.

He applied lidocaine spray and her usual tape before helping her adjust the compression sleeve he bought for her a few days ago. It helped her knee soreness, but she’d been worried about it making her stand out. When he pointed out that almost everyone in Unknown Planet wore some kind of gear like that, her self-consciousness dissipated almost entirely.

“Pain doesn’t make appointments, Osha,” he said sagely. “It’s always an unexpected walk-in and doesn’t care for business hours.”

“Aw, like you,” she said, nudging his side with her other leg. He just smirked. 

Down in the gym, he ran her through her usual mobility and strength tests, a necessary litmus for any day her pain was over a one—so, nearly every day. After that, they moved to her favorite part of every session: new skills. Tonight’s was jiu-jitsu basics.

“Alright, and when you shrimp, you have to—c’mon, it’s not that funny,” he said exasperatedly.

“I didn’t realize you were serious. We’re shrimping? I have to refine my shrimp?” Osha giggled.

“To some jiu-jitiero, laughing at this is heretical. You’ll be burned at the stake, Osha.”

“Are you some jiu-jitiero? Are you the Shrimpish Inquisition?”

He kissed her forehead, fondly rolling his eyes. “I’m not. C’mon, shrimpie. Back to work.”

She didn’t feel like she did any good, despite the hot, melty feeling she still had from all his praise tonight. Sitting on the floor later, she exchanged her gym shoes for her winter boots.

“We’ll be back here again tomorrow. Is that alright?” Qimir asked. 

“Why?” Tomorrow was usually a swim day.

“I want to make sure you get as much time as you wanted learning the new skills before the full moon.” They’d agreed to hold off most sparring sessions until the fight list came out, as to assuage worries of others in Unknown Planet. “You were so eager about making requests, so tomorrow you get to choose from either kickboxing or dim-mak.”

“What’s dim-mak?”

“Death point striking.”

Concerning range of options, there. Seemingly deliberately, he didn’t mention—

“When am I going to start weapons training?” Osha pouted.

“I know you were fascinated by the knife work last week, but it’s important to me that you win a fight unarmed first. No gloves. No headgear. And no knives.”

“Yeah, but what if I need a weapon to gain the upper hand against someone in the cage? Wouldn’t knowing how to use a knife come in handy?”

“When you can win a fight in the cage without a weapon, then I’ll train you on knives. It’s a symbolic thing.”

“Oh, it’s a symbolic thing. My bad. Completely understand now,” she scoffed, slumping her shoulders and letting herself wallow in melodrama. She kicked her legs out in front of her, ragdoll-sprawled against the wall. 

“Listen, Osha. If you rely too much on your tools, you become trapped by their very limited list of uses. Knives are tools. Gloves are tools. Safety pads and headgear are tools. Making do with what they can’t take from you is an edge that never dulls. A knife can’t say the same.”

“A knife can’t say anything. It’s a knife.”

“Exactly.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“And yet, your point agrees with mine.”

It seemed like a strange benchmark to pass—and why had he said it was important to him that she fight (well, win) unarmed?

“What’s the symbolism?” she asked.

Qimir was quiet then, walking across the room to fiddling with his bag. He faced away as he spoke. “Have you ever heard the phrase, treat your weapon as an extension of yourself?”

In nearly every training sequence in every action movie ever, yeah. But also—it’s something they said at the Temple the first time a kid ever put on their gloves. Treat these with respect. They are an extension of yourself. In a fight, they are your life. Osha couldn’t help thinking about the teal blue gloves gathering dust in a storage box buried deep in her closet. The day she’d lost the ability to wear her gloves with pride (to wear them for a purpose), it had felt like a severance of the spirit.

“I have.”

“It’s not good advice. It’s not even advice. It’s a dream. And it’s shared by people who have not touched the darkness inside them. The Temple insists that a tool—a weapon—should be an extension of yourself. And to someone just starting, someone who doesn’t know better, it can help to keep fighting form. Broken clocks being right twice a day, and all.

“But consider the way you wrapped your ankle before you started using KT tape. It’s a stabilizing wrap that prevents further injury, right? But it actively weakened your joints and sapped your strength and stability. Why?”

“Because I got used to it. Became reliant on it.”

Another nod. She wished she could see his face.

“The tape isn’t the problem—the tools aren’t the problem. It’s the reliance on them. They go from being useful to nothing more than a buffer, a barrier, a shield to hide behind in a situation meant for combat and confrontation. They’re… training wheels. Reliance dulls the edge of your fear-sense with false confidence. And denying your fear—”

“Doesn’t erase the danger you’re in,” Osha recited, truisms clicking into place.

Qimir nodded, but still didn’t turn around. “In that same vein, the idea that it’s the weapon that’s deadly is another buffer; it breeds another dangerous delusion to hide behind. You’re the one with lethality. You’re the deadly one in the cage. The Temple tricks you into believing that your hands can be kept clean of the bloodshed, unstained by darkness, just because the shiny red gloves hide the evidence.”

He turned to face her fully, arms at his sides.

“I’ve accepted my darkness. It’s up to you, Osha, to decide what you do with yours. There’s no not touching it, in the cage. It will touch you regardless if you reach for it or not.” He came closer, kneeling between her legs to unwrap the black fabric from between her fingers and around her wrists. “I want you to know that I believe in you. Knife or no knife, you’re going to be the deadliest thing in that cage when I send you in.”

She swallowed back a lump in her throat. “What if I fuck up, though? I don’t want to embarrass you if I get tossed in with a knife and bleed to death my first time in the ring.” Humor. That’s a good trick.

He gave her a thoughtful but defiant look. She gave him one right back, pouting and refusing to acknowledge his you’re-being-ridiculous face.

“Well, if that’s what you’re worried about—”

Qimir struck like a viper, taking advantage of her sulking to pin her to the floor like he’d done on the mats half an hour ago. When he drove his hips between her thighs, she felt part of her brain melt into some kind of grayish goo, but her fighting reflexes were nearly as fast as his.

Osha reacted instinctually, bringing her hands to her chest and wrapping her legs around his waist. She rolled onto her left shoulder and drove her hips back into the opening she made herself. She used the momentum and the strength in her thighs to pull him to the ground. Qimir folded like a fucking birthday card and collapsed onto his elbows in the place where she just was.

They stared at each other, breathing a little hard from the scuffle. “You’re already ready for the cage,” he panted. “Good enough to survive.”

“Then why are you waiting?” she asked.

“Because I’m not training you just to survive, Osha. And I’m not training you to win. I’m training you so that when you want to win, you will.” Qimir leaned in and stole a kiss. “Good shrimping, Osha.”

Bastard.

At the final stoplight before the apartment building, she rolled her head to the side to look at him, bathed in red. He pulled off his glasses to wipe them off on his jacket, and for a moment, he looked—

“Do you remember how I got kind of weird on the drive home, that night we went dancing?”

Qimir looked surprised by the sudden shift in topics, pushing his glasses back on and frowning a little. “I… you seemed upset about something.”

They pulled into the parking spot he usually took near her building. “It’s silly,” she laughed, fiddling with her jacket pockets. “I kind of fell asleep and… had a dream.”

“And the dream upset you?”

“No,” she shook her head, finally looking over at him. “Waking up from it did.”

She caught his eyes softening, a fond quirk to his lips. “What was the dream about?”

“You,” she hedged.

“Me?” he said, smirk widening. “Then why were you so upset to see me when I woke you up?” She could have gotten drunk off the laughter in his voice.

“Well, you weren’t kissing me when I woke up, so the dream was definitely the b—”

She thought she’d be more upset by the cliché interrupted-by-a-kiss thing, but when it was him, she couldn’t help but sigh and accept it. The angle was awkward with how they were sitting, but he did most of the work leaning into her space. His lips tasted like the electrolyte mix in his shaker cup, but his tongue tasted like fire when it passed against hers.

She moaned into his mouth, reaching for him and kissing him back with fervor. His exhale was shaky, a soundless moan in return. She didn’t mean for the kiss to get this deep and passionate, but she didn’t mind that this was how it turned out.

Uncountable kisses later, he pulled back, kissing her forehead before panting, “There. I’ve made your dreams come true.”

Bastard.

She really, really liked him.

Mae: Sol wants us to have dinner together this Saturday

M: Did he text you?

Osha frowned at Mae’s messages. Qimir had told her he had a surprise planned for her birthday—also this Saturday. 

In the week since defending his title in the masquerade—since he kissed her against no less than a dozen different walls and doors—Osha and Qimir had hardly spent a night apart, either at the gym or the pool or on a date. She liked those plans. She really liked those plans.

But Sol wanted to reinstate family dinner seemingly out of nowhere. It had been over a month since their last one, and Osha felt better because of it—even if part of her missed the familiarity of the tradition. Even if a small, treacherous part of her was just a girl who missed her dad. It made her chest ache to think about the distance for too long, but she’d replaced those moments of pain with moments of joy—with Qimir. The timing wasn’t suspicious, but the concept of returning to normal without clearing the air repulsed her somewhat

O: Birthday dinner?

O: I thought we were 27 not 17

M: You haven’t been by in a while…

“And whose fault is that?” Osha scoffed to herself.

O: Three days is kind of short notice, I could have plans

(She hoped she had plans.)

M: Did something happen between you and Sol?

She froze at Mae’s message. She hadn’t gotten around to meeting Indara after their talk a week ago, which left the gaps in her information to fester with unanswered questions. Indara had said Qimir held a grudge against Sol, but Osha hadn’t asked him anything about that either. 

Maybe if they were less concerned about kissing each other’s faces off when they were alone, they could have an actual conversation.

Still, Sol was involved in the whole conspiracy—Osha just didn’t know how. She grew uneasy at any attempt to reconcile that the reasons for the dark shadows cast on Qimir’s past came from Sol’s sunny, compassionate self.

O: We might need to ta

Osha deleted the message.

O: Everything is f

She deleted that message, too.

O: Has Sol ever told you about

Before her thumb could hit the Q on her keyboard, another message from Mae came in.

M: Do you think about our mothers at all

Osha remembered a lesson from her high school physics class about three-stage collisions. She’d dissociated through most of it, vividly imagining the car wreck that killed her parents, and ensuing fire that killed everybody else.

The car hits the object (the truck hits the tree).

The body hits the car (her mama hits the truck).

The organs hit the body (the life leaves her eyes).

And the followup:

(The grass catches fire.)

(The fire traps the women.)

(The women burn alive.)

Getting Mae’s message felt a lot like those terrible memories. She hit ‘call’ before she was fully aware of it. Once she heard Mae pick up, she asked, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m okay…” Mae said, her voice sounding a little thick. The sniffle confirmed it.

“What’s going on, Mae?”

Mae sighed, her voice shaky. “Well, you know, it’s just—I know it’s like so far from the anniversary, but… I mean, it’s another birthday they’re not here, you know, and… yeah.”

They’d lost everyone but each other that day. Mae had been unconscious for most of the accident, but Osha was not. Osha remembered everything. She remembered the fireworks still bursting in the distance, mixing with the dazed lights dancing in her eyes. She remembered the heat of summer feeling cool compared to the fire licking inside the car and the scent of—

Her voice came out a little sharper than intended.

“I’m aware.”

“I just, I’m at their graves, and—”

“For fucks sake, Mae,” Osha hissed, glancing at the clock. Qimir was most likely downstairs, waiting to take her on their date. “Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to go?”

“I know you don’t like going.”

“I want you to tell me these things, Mae. If—you know, I don’t like going, you’re right. But you know I’d go with you if you wanted me to, right?”

Mae sniffled on the other end of the call, and the shift against the receiver sounded like she was nodding—forgetting Osha couldn’t see her. “I’m sorry, Oshie.”

“Do—” She closed her eyes and took a breath. “Do you need me to be with you? I have my car.”

“You probably have plans already—”

“That’s not what I asked, Mae. Do you need me?” Osha was surprised to find she meant it, too.

A few seconds passed. “No, I think I’ll be okay. I promise I’ll tell you next time I want to go. This was just—I was just thinking about them a lot today. And I wondered if you thought about them, too.”

Osha couldn’t help the disorienting, unhappy memories that flooded her mind. (Dirt hits the coffin.)

“I do,” she lied. “All the time.”

When she finally got downstairs, she ignored Qimir’s greeting and walked right into his arms, pulling him into a hug. He reacted similarly to the first time she hugged him, but now it took much less time to return it.

“Whoa—hey, are you—hi,” he said, arms coming to gingerly rest around her shoulders before squeezing her against him. The tightness in her chest lessened some.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled into his chest. “Just need a hug right now.”

“Is everything alright?” he asked after a few quiet moments holding her. His hand came up to hold the back of her neck. It was a quiet, but powerful gesture that smudged away the sharper edges of her anxiety. It comforted her—and turned her on more than words could say.

She shook her head, both to clear her mind and tell him things weren’t alright. “I was literally one foot out the door when Mae called me.”

“What’d she say? Did something happen?” He rubbed her shoulders, never once letting up the pressure he kept around her body. Qimir’s hugs were less an embrace and more, what if I squeeze you like a condiment packet—affectionately!

“Nothing happened. She just told me she was at our mothers’ graves.”

“Oh, no,” he said softly. “Do you need to talk about it? Or do you need me to distract you?”

She didn’t answer, and held her silence for so long that he eventually tilted her head back so he could look at her. In the low light, she could make out his eyes flicking rapidly over her face. He stroked a thumb over her cheekbone—checking if she was crying. She couldn’t help but smile, her storm of sadness breaking like the sun behind the clouds. 

“I think distraction is the best bet.”

“I know how to do that.”

Osha didn’t know for certain, but she was pretty sure that hanging out where you worked didn’t qualify as a date. But they didn’t have many options. If Indara could spot Mae and Qimir by random happenstance, it was possible for them to be spotted together. Indara had told her to be discreet with him, in case Vernestra ever caught wind of them.

Qimir had declared all the drop-in hang-outs they’d shared at his apartment to be prequel dates, so that was another option.

What exactly about them makes them dates?

The fact I was and am completely infatuated with you.

Hearing him talk like that while a bed was so conveniently nearby was a dangerous game to play.

She wanted to return the favor and invite him over to her apartment, but it was still too risky—not while Mae hadn’t fully earned back her trust and not while Sol still had the emergency key. Perhaps when they’re all out of town next week…

Fortunately, Unknown Planet was still a decent place to go. 

They still had a lot of ‘getting to know’ questions to ask each other and usually spent their quieter lulls in conversation asking one another off-the-wall curiosities.

Do you listen to music a lot? she’d ask.

My iPod goes with me everywhere, he’d answer.

Why’d you get your piercing? he’d ask.

Seemed like a good idea at the time, she’d answer.

“Have you thought about leaving the city?” he asked her tonight.

“Oh, too many times. Never seriously, though. They’re the kind of thoughts that hardly qualify even as daydreams.” Osha played with the edge of a cardboard drink coaster. “What about you?”

“I’ve left a few times. Typically for work, but not very recently. Even when I think I’ll stay away, I always end up coming back.” Yeah, like when you disappeared for two months, she thought to herself. The question stuck on the tip of her tongue but her mouth wouldn’t let her ask what she wanted.

“How do you feel about that?”

He sighed, leaning back and looking around Unplan with an undiscerning gaze before it settled on her. He waited a moment before saying, “Just too many things I miss here.”

She tried not to fluster, but he seemed to know just which buttons to press to get her back in this position. She didn’t begrudge him for it. It thrilled her.

“Where would you go?” he asked.

“If I left the city?”

He hummed, nodding. His hand moved languidly toward his beer, taking his time and enjoying every second he spent with her. Like this, relaxed, it was hard to believe he could use that same body to pummel people into the ground.

“I don’t know,” Osha said. “Somewhere I could see the stars, maybe? Where I grew up, the stars were so bright we didn’t even need flashlights to get around half the time.”

The compound was about fifty miles from the city—now a burned-out husk in the snow. She once considered it to be a fortress, the high walls and open courtyards making her feel like a princess. The lack of any metropolitan light pollution and their off-the-grid lifestyle made it possible to number the stars until sunrise, some nights.

Qimir smiled, like he knew she was reminiscing about those halcyon days. He took her hand and pulled it to his lips. Her knuckles were always red-raw these days, between the biting cold weather and their training, but she forgot to be self-conscious whenever he would kiss her so sweetly.

“I’m taking you somewhere nice next Saturday,” he said.

Oh. Right.

Osha winced, saying, “Mae also told me that Sol wants to do family dinner next week.”

“Same day?” he said. He kept his face carefully neutral, neither pouting nor smiling.

Osha nodded. “It might be suspicious if I don’t accept, since. Yeah.” She sighed, hating that the plans she’d been looking forward to had been—

He was asking her something.

“What?”

“How do you feel about that?” he asked, repeating her question to him from earlier.

She sighed, shaking her head. “It’s hard. I want to make up with Mae, but she betrayed my trust, and it’s hard to get over that.”

He took a drink of his beer, his hand moving a little faster than before. Like a flinch, her fighter’s eye said.

“Not that I’m on her side,” Qimir said after a moment. “But why is it a betrayal if she simply didn’t tell you what she was doing?”

“I mean, betrayal implies a faithlessness in the other person, or disloyalty.”

“Faithlessness?” he asked, in a voice so soft she wasn’t sure he meant to speak out loud.

“Faith that the other person wouldn’t understand where they were coming from. Obviously that’s not all betrayal is, but yeah. If she told me, I would have been surprised, but I like to think I would have been at least a little understanding.”

Osha wasn’t certain. Two years ago, her depression was still fairly bad. She wasn’t a pleasant person to be around, so defensive over everything anyone else did. She wanted Mae to come to her about things like this, yes, but she would have been nasty about it back then.

I want this to be mine for a while, she’d told Fillik. She was talking about Qimir back then, and in a way, Mae’s actions showed that same motivation. Osha would have snapped and snarled about how great it was that Mae was training. Let’s be real, I would have called her greedy and selfish.

“I don’t think she ever planned on telling me. If it weren’t for me meeting you, I’m sure she would have taken her time with you to the grave. We talked about her classes sometimes, and she never came clean. It may not have started as a lie, but it became one the longer her deception continued. Which is ironic, since she always claimed that honesty was the most important trait in a person.”

Osha shook her head, taking a drink of her beer.

“And what do you think?” Qimir asked, his voice still a little soft like before.

“I just told you—”

“Do you think honesty is the most important trait in a person?”

The answer was complicated. Sol had been very black-and-white when it came to her and her sister telling the truth, but when it came to serious topics, he would rather hear nothing at all than be forced to listen to their honesty. They had to ask Indara about their periods because Sol couldn’t stomach it. And later on, Sol didn’t want to hear Osha talking about her pain, her honest experiences. So she had to spin him little lies about I’m fine and it feels like it never happened while she agonized.

The truth mattered little to those determined not to listen.

“I think… there are two kinds of lies. The ones we tell to benefit others are momentary comforts—because the world is scary, and we’ll go crazy if we think about it for too long. Fairytales and ghost stories and no, I promise, we’re going to be okay when they know we’re not. Whenever we say I’m fine and we’re not. Those are illusions, but they’re comforts nonetheless.

“The other kind is much more sinister: the lies we tell to benefit ourselves. We know they’re nasty, and harmful, so we make them seem like the first when we hide them in silence and omission. What they don’t know can’t hurt them, until it does. At the end of the day, someone else is going to be hurt by that silence and that omission, and that hurt will only deepen the longer those silences go on.”

Qimir looked deeply troubled, staring into the dark surface of his beer. He nodded at long last, just taking a while to digest her point of view.

“Do you think you’ll ever forgive her?” he asked.

“I want to. I love her; she’s my sister. But I can’t let her think it’s over and done with just because she said she’s sorry. She hurt me, and hurt you, and seriously corrupted her morals for stupid reasons. The issue isn’t that I don’t know if I’ll forgive her—I don’t know if she’ll do that kind of thing again. Until I know that for sure…” she shrugs, not knowing how to end that sentence.

Qimir nodded again, draining the rest of his beer. When he set down the empty glass, he brought her hand up to his lips, kissing her palm. “What time do you think you’ll be finished with dinner?” he asked. “On Saturday.”

His mouth on her skin proved distracting as ever, but she managed to give him the time they were generally finished. “…it may run late if Sol is… well, if he’s Sol about it. But Mae said it’d just be the three of us, so I’m not counting on it.”

He looked unbothered. “My time is yours. If you’re up for it, we can still do what I have planned.”

“What did you have planned?”

He winked. “I suppose you’ll have to wait and see.”

“Ugh, nooo…”

“What’s up?”

Osha glared at the text on her screen. Damn Yord for convincing her to check her email more often.

“Employee evaluations are tomorrow. I’m last on the list, which means I have to stick around the gym for like two hours after my shift ends. I might be late to the pool.”

“We can push it back; I have errands to run anyway.” He never took his eyes off the road, pulling carefully into the icy streets.

She appreciated it. He’d always been a safe driver whenever she was a passenger in his car, but especially after Mae’s breakdown, he’d been doubly sure to make Osha feel safe with him behind the wheel.

The multitasking he did allow himself while driving was spent coming up with something to say in return. Despite precedent telling her otherwise, she half-expected him to tell her to simply cut her losses and quit any association with the Temple. He had more than enough reason to rail on them to her any chance he got. Hell, she’d almost asked why he wasn’t more openly hostile toward them after speaking with Indara.

That was another thing she hadn’t gotten around to talking about. They’d become so caught up in the newness of whatever they were that the idea that talking about the awkward, difficult things seemed repugnant. She’d brought a newfound warmth to his eyes, and she didn’t want it icing over with mention of his time at the Temple. It would be a step backwards that spanned in the miles.

“How do you think it will go?” he asked diplomatically.

“I have no idea,” she sighed, leaning on the headrest and looking out at the street. “Is it bad I kind of hope she fires me?”

“I don’t think it’s bad, per se,” he said. He carefully stopped at a red light. “It would definitely play into what she wants if you ask about it.”

“What she wants?”

“She wants to erase you from the pristine image of the Temple.”

“Ah.” How could she forget?

“I’m more worried about what Vernestra will say to you. For all she disliked displays of emotion, she always sought to elicit them—perhaps provoke is a better word. I don’t want her taking shots at you, even if I know you can hold your own against her.”

He pulled carefully into the icy intersection. She noticed his recent caution had been doubled just tonight.

“You’re driving like a grandma, even for you,” she pointed out.

“Just want to be safe on the places the salt trucks haven’t hit yet. On the way to work today, someone slid right through the crosswalk at a red light.”

“What? That sounds so scary!”

“Nobody was hurt,” he said quickly. “I know that kind of thing happens a lot around this time of year. So—better safe than sorry.”

She kissed his cheek. So thoughtful. “Thank you.”

The next day, dark clouds and wind whipped at her face each time she dared brave the outdoors. The city had the horrible quirk of a microclimate that turned mild weather severe, so even though the suburbs were snowy and cheerful, within the heart of the concrete jungle a tundra blazed.

Strange, that the cold can burn just as well as flames.

The nasty weather set the scene for her shift rather poignantly. Hardly anybody came in, for coffee or classes. The Temple would shut down for three weeks starting after the coming weekend, meaning Osha wouldn’t see hide or hair of Mae, Sol, or anybody else she usually spent time with—before Qimir sidled into her life, that is.

Osha was waiting her turn to be called into Vernestra’s office. The shop had been dead all day from the prohibitive weather. She distracted herself by doing smooth, static stretches behind the bar—loosening the sudden tension in her knee as the hours edged toward the afternoon—damn it, Qimir was right about the temperature playing tricks on her joints.

Speaking of Qimir, he hadn’t texted her back all day. He’d sent her a text around sunrise, wishing her a good morning, but there’d been nothing since. It worried her, which wasn’t the greatest distraction from her mounting anxiety about this meeting.

She heard Vernestra’s office door open at the top of the stairs, followed by her voice from further in. “It’s unfortunate that we can’t work together again, Ms. Skrye.” She sounded annoyed.

Great. Now I’m getting an evaluation while Vernestra is already displeased. Osha drifted closer to the end of the bar. She was trying not to snoop—but she was desperate for something to break the malaise-addled mold of the last few hours.

“Don’t look so upset, I didn’t say no. I told you I’d have to think about it, ma’am—I have some concerns about your contract.”

Something about the speaker’s voice was gut-wrenchingly familiar. She couldn’t place it just yet. Osha froze in place, eyes fixed on the stairs leading to the upper landing. 

“It’s essentially the same one as last time.” Vernestra huffed. “I appreciate you hearing me out, though.”

“You’re welcome. I should get back to you within a week. You’re not the only one who wants my work.”

“Do you recommend any old colleagues who would be interested in the job?”

“None as good as me—or as discreet.”

The speaker stood in the doorway with their back turned. Their silhouette rang bells, but she couldn’t place exactly what kind of bells—alarm?

“I should hope so, Ms. Skrye,” Vernestra said. “Have a pleasant day.”

The speaker turned, and it took Osha’s complete control not to flinch when they locked eyes across the space.

Those weren’t alarm bells ringing—they were match bells.

Idise—the cage fighter who previously held the title of Daybreak—stood more than thirty feet away, but Osha could still make out a mostly-faded shiner around her left eye, a souvenir from the new moon. She wouldn’t have recognized her if she hadn’t seen Idise around the gym periodically. Osha had almost convinced herself—resigned herself—to carry some respect for Idise as a fighter and someone with whom Qimir had a history.

Speaking of history.

Work together? Again??

Indara’s story—the private investigator.

She lost track of him when he joined up with the Hutts.

Qimir’s remarks.

She’s known me since before I joined the gym.

Medora.

She nominated him for the cage.

Kana.

Q and Idise are close.

Osha remembered to breathe through her shock. Idise’s look of surprise matched hers, but she mastered her facial expression much faster than Osha did.

Where Idise’s face shifted into concern and curiosity, Osha’s morphed into an angry sneer. Idise worked with Vernestra. She stalked Qimir for her. Was she lying to him all this time? Now Osha had no idea what to think. She could only make room for indignant, righteous fury bubbling through her veins.

“Osha? You can come on up,” Vernestra said. She hadn’t poked her head out of her office, the usual power move.

How much did Vernestra know? How much did Idise tell her?

“Coming!” Osha said, steeling herself. She’d tell Qimir about this later, she vowed. She’d drive to his apartment as soon as things were wrapped up here.

She had to pass Idise on the stairs as she made her way up, and couldn’t help shoulder-checking her just a little bit.

Idise took it in stride, grunting and reaching out for support on the rickety balustrade.

“Whoops,” Osha said flatly.

“No, it’s my fault. Sorry.” Idise’s eyes were intense, brow furrowed, and didn’t match the lightness of her tone. She looked like she was trying to tell Osha something without speaking, but Osha refused to hear (or, she supposed, see) her out.

When that became clear to her, Idise did something Osha didn’t expect. She leaned a few inches closer, then—

“Don’t sign anything,” Idise breathed, lips barely moving. It was so soft Osha almost asked her to repeat herself, but Idise had already torn herself away, strutting down the rest of the steps toward the door. She didn’t look back as she disappeared into the storm beyond the glass. The only evidence she was here was the scent of her perfume—sandalwood and frankincense.

Fitting, for someone in league with the Temple.

“Osha?” Vernestra said, reminding her of why she was here. Osha refocused and stepped into the office. Vernestra was reading a paper on her desk, not even looking up as she asked, “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, just a little clumsy lately. Because of the weather.” She recalled her gameplan: she had to sell this lie somehow, and in order to do so, she had to keep it firmly rooted in some kind of truth. The more she called attention to her injury, the better—Vernestra was like Sol, wanting the truth but not honesty from the people around her.

Sure enough, Vernestra’s face flushed in distaste as she glanced quickly at Osha’s ankle. Ultimately, she said nothing about her remark. “You can take a seat.”

Osha hoped she could get through this meeting without looking like a fool—or screwing anybody over. Still, she tried to get some information for herself.

“Who was that walking out? I’ve never seen her here before.” Not, I’ve never seen her before.

“She’s an old colleague of mine. Networking is an important aspect of running a business. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

Damn. No dice.

“I suppose,” Osha said, taking the defeat in the manner she usually would: head bowed, face cowed. She braced herself for further lashes, or for an interrogation about Qimir or Unknown Planet—what had Idise told her?—but Vernestra surprised her.

“You know you’re still welcome to take classes at the Temple, Osha.”

She faltered in her present train of thought. “Isn’t—is this part of the evaluation?”

“Oh, of course,” Vernestra said lightly, though her eyebrow twitched in annoyance at the reminder. It unsettled Osha. She watched her shuffle the few papers on her desk before picking one up and reading off of it. “You’ve shown yourself to be a steadfast and reliable employee who shows up on time—and goes above and beyond her job duties. Areas to improve include lessening the appearance of laziness in the work environment. It casts a bad light on the alertness of our employees, so try to use the stool less—or, preferably, only on your breaks. Consideration for leadership roles is dependent on showing future progress.” She set the paper down and flashed Osha a quick smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “There. Evaluated.”

“I… um, thank you.” She’d been caught on the back foot several times in her life, most often in the ring—very rarely in conversation. This was one of those times. “Um, leadership roles?” she asked, keeping her hands in her lap. 

“Well, that depends on if you even want to still stay at the Temple,” Vernestra said in a concerned voice that Osha didn’t believe for one second.

“I do!” Osha exclaimed. “Of course I do. My dad and sister are here, and I don’t even have any friends outside the Temple. It’s—it’s all I have.”

I deserve an Oscar.

The sadistic delight in Vernestra’s eyes glimmered behind a faint veil of concern—no, pity. “Like I said before, you’re more than welcome to rejoin classes, so long as they’re at the appropriate level for your… ability.”

“That’s…” Nice to know, right when the fucking gym is about to be closed for like a week. “Wonderful to hear, ma’am.”

“There are just a few concerns I have.”

She recalled what Qimir told her.

For all she disliked displays of emotion, she always sought to elicit them—perhaps provoke is a better word.

She’d give her a provocation.

“I know, and I’m so so sorry about the last time we spoke—it’s just—” It was very easy to draw on her emotions and bring tears to her eyes. What looked like tears of desperation were really tears of anger. “It’s just so hard, you know? I messed up. I should have apologized for my behavior sooner, I really do love it here.” She hoped her choked-up voice sold the sorrow—it just felt like bile to even say.

Vernestra shifted in her seat, discomforted by the emotional display. Perfect. “Behavior?”

“The—oh god, I yelled at you… about Huyang?”

She grimaced. “Right. The… espresso machine.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get all—like this.”

For as much as Verosha liked to humiliate Osha, and this would have definitely been a humiliating thing for others to witness, Vernestra looked uncomfortable when nobody else was there to face Osha’s emotions. Not as fun without an audience, hm?

“That’s. Fine. I was surprised by your outburst but I should have come to expect it from you by now.”

The insult was sharp, but only cut through empty air. Three months ago, Osha would have actually begged for the second chance being offered—and she would have flinched to hear such a swipe at her character. So she flinched.

Vernestra’s chest puffed out somewhat, and Osha subtly watched her gaze briefly flicker to a filing cabinet in the corner. It was different than all the rest—one of those heavy-duty fireproof ones that locked down like Fort Knox. Osha didn’t know why the sight of it seemed to calm Vernestra down, but it did.

“I feel,” Vernestra began, “as if we should… clear the air between us, lest any further misunderstandings bloom between us and fruit consequences.”

“Like getting fired?”

It was a risky thing to say. On one hand, getting fired was a surefire way to lose access to whatever evidence she needed in the Temple—possibly in that filing cabinet, in fact. But on the other hand, it had the capacity to cut her loose from the poisoned, toxic environment she was still tied down to.

Vernestra sent her a condescending look. “No. If I was going to fire you, I wouldn’t have minced words when you came in here. I… just wanted to have a chat, Osha.”

“While, yes, you would have to work on your attitude and show significant improvement in your physical capabilities, I would need to see you acting like a true leader in the Temple. You’re used to being outspoken and expressive, but the Temple relies on an element of restraint. Discretion, if you will.”

She nodded, remembering how Idise had called herself discreet earlier. Fear, disgust, and anger ran apace with one another through the atria of her heart, and Osha tried to subtly get her pulse back under control.

“I’d say it’s probably a result of your parenting, but Sol also raised your sister, and she seems capable of meeting those simple standards. I’m sure she’s told you about her recent promotions in the last year.”

Her bribes, more like.

But Osha couldn’t argue that side of things. Vernestra was looking for a reaction, a blow to her composure. A result of your parenting, really? “Sol?” Osha asked, mock-confused.

Vernestra sat back in her chair, fingers laced in her lap. “He told me a long time ago that he may not have been ready to adopt you and your sister when he did.”

Osha’s mind was going a hundred miles an hour. What could she possibly gain by saying this? She couldn’t posit the answer.

“I’ve heard most parents aren’t.”

She had mixed feelings about defending Sol, but after seventeen years, it felt like reflex. Sol had told the two of them a thousand times over the years that he always wanted to be a father, and despite every parenting blunder he made, he always tried his best when they needed him.

Unlike some foster parents.

“Yes, well. Real parents at least have time in advance to prepare. But some adults just don’t have the best parental instincts.”

Osha had to bite her tongue to keep from blurting out something rude and nasty and correct. Blood bloomed across her tastebuds, and she forced herself to shrug, though it was difficult to play at casual right now. Hopefully, she would believe her anger was toward the dig at Sol and not at the despicable knowledge that she only fostered a child just to use him for accolades.

“I think I was raised just fine. I think Mae feels similarly. I was cared for and provided for, and that’s all a child—an orphan, sorry—ever wants from a guardian, right?”

Holy shit, Osha. Keep the cat in the bag. Staple the bag shut, you fucking idiot.

Vernestra’s eyes narrowed, but she kept her cards close from then on.

“I have wanted to speak with you about creating a manual for the machine you mentioned earlier…”

For the next half hour, Osha stayed in the hot seat, acting as if she hadn’t completely changed in the last few months. It was unnerving. Vernestra expertly swerved away from any topic that could have led to her speaking about Qimir—including the accusation from the beginning of all this mess.

This wasn’t what she expected from the meeting. She hadn’t been fired, further reprimanded, or even questioned. Qimir had shown up at the cafe despite his admitted lifetime ban. He’d shown up three times. One of Mae’s first questions had been did the cameras catch him coming in?

But she never brought him up. She didn’t ask what Osha was doing in the time she wasn’t taking classes or going to work. In fact, the most Vernestra did was goad about the hours cuts, but Osha just took a shaky breath and said, I’ll make it to spring on savings.

Vernestra had grown visibly excited at the prospect of Osha struggling, but her clunky mock-sympathy did its worst to cover it up.

“…well, I’m very proud of your work in the cafe. Maybe soon, if I see improvement in your work and attitude, we can talk about other career opportunities for you in the Temple.”

Finally. Some information she could use. “Like competing?” Osha said, goading her right back.

Predictably, Vernestra’s face soured. “Perhaps that.”

Barista. Trainer. Fighter. Spy. Those were the four employment options at the Temple. If fighter was eliminated, then trainer definitely was. Osha was already barista. That left—

“That would be amazing,” Osha gushed, pushing the let-me-back-in narrative some more. “My main priority is to get back into classes again, really. Restart, you know?”

“We’ll have to see about that. So here’s your evaluation; just go ahead and sign at the bottom, and we can be finished.”

Don’t sign anything.

Osha took the paper but not a pen, fixing Vernestra with a big, open facial expression. “I’m so grateful for this, ma’am.” She turned on the waterworks full blast, blubbering through her next words. “This place is j-just. It’s like home to me. I always feel like everyone here is family, like everyone here adopted me and Mae. Not just Sol.” She took a deep, hiccuping breath and checked her progress.

Vernestra looked ill.

She dug deeper. “And I’ve been so w-worried about the last few weeks. I thought I was g—” Sniffle, gasp. “I thought I was gonna lose it all.”

“That’s…” Vernestra couldn’t hold back her sneer. “Understandable.”

Osha went on until Vernestra stood from the desk, her movements jerky and almost pained. She swept around the desk to come ‘comfort’ her with an awkward pat on her shoulder. It almost made Osha break character and laugh. But she had one more trick up her sleeve.

She surged forward and hugged Vernestra, taking that shoulder pat as permission to touch. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she sobbed.

The hand on her shoulder gingerly pushed her away. Vernestra wasn’t looking anywhere near her. In a slightly too loud voice, she said, “Well, I hope you drive home safely. Weather is. Well. The weather is bad, I guess.”

“You’re right. Ugh, I’m such a mess, and I’m so sorry. I probably wasted so much time just blubbering,” Osha said, holding the evaluation behind her back and gesturing with her free hand. She backed out of the office when Vernestra started herding her in that direction.

“Yes. Well. No. I mean. Goodbye.”

The door shut in Osha’s face, and she refocused. The scent of sandalwood returned, reminding her of her priorities. 

She had to tell Qimir what she found out—more importantly, who she saw.

CHAPTER 17