#surprised at how well her face turned out considering I drew that last night when I was half asleep lol

[swordmaid]

dream gworllllllll 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

[presleyslilbaby]

~Emotional Soup~

(60’s!Elvis X Reader)

Reader decides to make soup for dinner, which Elvis appreciates, but he’s not exactly thrilled at the table.

Y/n was moving around the kitchen like a busy little Bee, having decided to make a simple pot of vegetable soup for Elvis considering he’d mentioned something to her last night about craving some, as simple as it was. With him so busy with filming ‘Charro!’, she thought it wouldn’t hurt to surprise him with a nice hot bowl for when he comes back home. That got her thinking for a moment. Ever since she was a little Girl, she’d always dreamed of becoming a Housewife, caring for her future Husband with such love and affection, and now that the time had came- Well, it couldn’t have been any better. A smile graced Y/n’s lips, thinking fondly of the memories of how she would play pretend, and how she would insist to any Boy that approached her that she was simply ‘betrothed to another’. A soft laugh bubbled up from her throat, shaking her head at the thought. It was memories like those that made her feel content with her childhood. The good parts, anyways.

The sound of the front door opening and closing again drew Y/n out of her thoughts, peering out of the kitchen to steal a glance at Elvis. “Hey, Baby.” She greeted, too busy at the stove to come to him. “How was your day?��� With a deep and heavy sigh, Elvis trudged through the house to her side, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. “Tiring..” He muttered, resting his bearded chin against her shoulder. “Wanted to leave the set early, but something popped up. Some issue with the film or another. I dunno…I wasn’t exactly payin’ any attention, I just wanted to come home and see my pretty li’l Wife…” He explained further, nuzzling his face in the crook of her neck, tickling her. She giggles at the feeling, stirring the pot of soup. “I see. I’m sorry you’re so tired, Elvis. How much more filming do you need to do?” “Too much…” He grumbles, sighing again at the thought of filming more. “I like this movie, I really do. ‘S not like the others, but…I need a damn break…” “You’re definitely right about that.” Y/n nodded in agreement, turning off the stove.

“Why don’t you go sit at the table? I’ll bring dinner in a second.” She suggested, hearing him groan in response, not wanting to leave her side. “You wound me with such suggestions, Y/n.” He teases jokingly, pressing a sweet little kiss against her cheek before walking off. She giggles in response, grabbing her pot holders and gripping the handles of the pot before following after him. “Thought I’d surprise you with soup tonight.” “I see that.” Elvis smiles, helping her guide the pot over to the middle of the table. “Smells mighty good, Darlin’. Thank ya’ for makin’ this f’me.” He politely thanked her, pulling out the chair beside his own and easing her to sit down, pushing it back in before sitting down himself. “You’re welcome.” As soup was evenly distributed between the two of them and was ready to be eaten, Y/n goes to talk about the day she had. “So I-“ “Shit.” Elvis muttered beneath his breath as soup dripped in his beard, wiping it away with a napkin rather annoyedly. “Sorry, Baby. Yeah, I’m listenin’.” He apologises, motioning for her to continue as he tries again with his spoon. “Right. Anyways, so I was going through my old scrapbook and found-“ “Goddamn it!” He shouts out when even more soup than last time drips down from his spoon. “I fuckin’ hate this goddamn beard! It’s so damn scratchy, it looks wrong on me, and I can’t even eat goddamn soup without gettin’ pissed the fuck off!” Y/n watches on as Elvis furiously scrubbed the napkin against his chin, resting her hand on his bicep, squeezing supportively. “Hey, I know it bugs you, but you’ll be able to shave it off when you’re done filming.” She tries to calm him down.

“It more than just bugs me, Darlin’! It infuriates the piss outta me! I used to enjoy soup, but now it’s just- Just- Emotional!” He gripes. She couldn’t help but chortle at the way he’d talked about the soup like it was a scar on his emotional wellbeing, hiding her mouth behind her hand. He whips his head over to look at her, narrowing his eyes in an annoyed stare. “You laughin’ at me?” He hissed. Y/n shakes her head, trying her hardest not to laugh more than she already did. “N-No, no..! Not laughing at all..! It’s just-“ She was losing her control. “You made it sound like you’re scarred by soup-“ With no more control over her laughter anymore, she simply let it all out, grasping the edge of the table in poor attempts to ground herself. But of course, Elvis, being the way that he was, simply couldn’t stay mad at her. Rolling his eyes playfully, he chuckled a little. “What, you really think I’m gonna let a silly li’l bowl o’ soup make me cry like that? No way, no how, Missy. Now you better stop laughin’ or else your food’s gonna get cold.” But Y/n couldn’t really stop. She was too far gone in her own humour by now to really take a rest from laughing.

[burntsaltsblog]

tw: nsfw, mdni

Chapter Six

A knock sounded rapidly on the door of our hotel room, pulling me from a deep sleep. Butcher and I both shot up in bed before looking at each other, me wearing a far more panicked expression than him.

"Who the hell is that?" I mouthed, not wanting the most likely threatening guest on the other side of the door to hear.

Butcher shook his head as he drew a calloused digit up to rest on his closed lips, signaling me to stay silent as he grabbed his newly polished handheld from the bedside table. Quietly, he stood and walked on the balls of his bare feet towards the door in nothing but a pair of black boxers. I would've enjoyed the view more had I not been reaching for my trusty pocket knife, which I had stashed under my pillow the night before.

The blade effortlessly flicked out, gleaming under the light from the bedside table I had switched on. I rose onto my knees, ready to be Butcher's backup if need be as he grasped the shiny doorknob and turned it slowly, opening the door no more than an inch.

Butcher's shoulders visibly relaxed as an overly cheery greeting flowed from his mouth. "Top of the mornin’ to ya’, governor."

When Ed's voice came from out in the hall, I blew a breath through my mouth and flopped back down on the bed, dropping my knife on the nightstand closest to me.

"Oh, good morning. Mr. Butcher, sir. I usually don't make a habit of checking up on my guests unannounced, but you didn't answer the courtesy wake-up call this morning, and I wanted to make sure you folks were alright."

"No worries, mate," Butcher assured the elderly innkeeper as he discreetly slid his gun into the waistband of his boxers, letting the pistol rest against his lower back.

"The misses and I had quite a late night, with it being our honeymoon n’ all. My wife was so insatiable, I swear I had to paw her off me when it chimed three."

My mouth opened in horror, and I didn't hesitate to hurl Butcher's pillow at his back, causing him to stumble forward in surprise.

"Bloody hell, there she is again. I'd love to stay and have a chin wag, but my husbandly duty calls.”

Ed chuckled from behind the door, but I never caught his response as Butcher closed said door and turned back to face me.

"Well, nothin’ like a little mornin’ fright to get the day started. I swear, plannin’ a whole fight in my head sure does get the blood pumpin’, ya’ know what I mean?"

I ignored Butcher's words as I scowled up at him. "I am not insatiable."

"Really? Coulda fooled me," he shrugged, earning him another pillow to his face this time. But it did nothing to get my point across as he laughed at total volume, throwing his head back before retrieving both of our pillows that now rested on the baby blue carpet.

"I swear, love, you're easier to wind up than the little toys me mum used to buy me as a wee boy."

"That’s funny because wind-up toys were invented in the 15th century, but I suppose that makes sense considering your age."

Butcher froze, pillows still in hand, as he raised a dark brow. "Interestin’. I thought I fucked all the attitude outta ya’ last night."

"Well, it's not my fault you weren't very thorough," I quipped back."

"S’that so? Well. Don't make any plans today, sweetheart, because when I'm done with you, ya’ won't even remember how to walk, eh?"

"What plans? God knows I'm stuck here with you for the forseeable future."

Butcher tossed the pillows beside my head and crawled up the length of my body. He looked down at me, smirking before I felt his hand begin to fumble with the hem of his Hawaiian shirt I'd stolen last night.

I noticed the absence of his usual chain with his wedding band dangling in my face, and for that, I was grateful. The last thing I wanted while having sex was a constant reminder of the love of Butcher's life and of the fact that if she weren't dead, Butcher and I wouldn't even be together. He'd be drinking wine somewhere in a suburb, and I'd still be on the streets, counting pennies for my next meal.

"If I had it my way, you'd wear nothin’ but my shirts all day, with your perfect pussy peekin’ out every time ya’ bent over," Butcher whispered filthily as he began raking the thin material up my body.

"I think that can be arranged," I breathed, anticipating Butcher's next move. But it never came due to something catching his attention.

"What's the matter," I asked, concerned, as he stayed frozen, staring down at my stomach. It wasn't until I followed his line of sight that I saw what he was fixated on.

There, just below my last right rib, were the stitches MM had resewn only a few days before. Last night, it had been dark except for the few rays of moonlight peeking in through the window. Now, the reminisce of my injury basked under the bedroom lamp light, clear as day for Butcher to see.

"They're supposed to dissolve in a couple of weeks MM said."

Butcher softly ran his finger around the row of stitches, being careful not to touch the actual closed wound.

"Does it hurt?"

"Not so much."

"Shoulda never fuckin’ happened." Butcher's eyes darkened as his mouth settled into a firm line. "S’all my fault."

"Butcher, this was in no way your fault," I said, quick to halt the bullshit he was spewing. "It was some invisible freak who shot me; how was any of us supposed to see that coming?"

"Doesn't fuckin’ matter!" Butcher bellowed, startling me as he slammed his fist down on the mattress beside me, making the headboard shake. "I put you in that invisible cunt's path because I was too bleedin’ obsessed with getting a meetin’ with Rayner.”

"Butcher, we all wanted that meeting with Rayner. So, don't be a fucking martyr and take the blame for something that is not even remotely your fault."

Butcher, who was stubbornly resigned to his own version of the truth, stood from the bed and kept his head down as he headed for the bathroom. "I'm gonna wash up. We can grab some grub after," he informed me curtly.

"C'mon, Butcher, don't be like this," I begged, hopping up from the bed to stop him from hiding in the bathroom to wallow in self-hatred.

His hand rested on the bathroom door, and I ran my hand up his back, watching as goosebumps rose on his freckled skin.

"I chose to be there that day," I gently reminded him. "When I decided to join this team, I knew I was putting myself at risk of getting hurt, and I made my peace with that.”

"Sometimes I wonder," Butcher whispered, leaning more of his weight on the door. I couldn't tell if it was to evade my touch or if the subject weighed so heavily on his shoulders, that he needed physical support to stay upright. "If I shoulda left ya’ there with Hugo that day."

My stomach sank at Butcher's confession, and he finally turned to face me, looking down regretfully.

"What- what are you talking about?" I stuttered. "You honestly wish you would have left me in that fucking hole?"

"Well, I wouldn't exactly compare the basement of the pawnshop to the Four Seasons. At least with Hugo, you were safe and didn't have psycho supes running after ya’."

I only stared at Butcher with disappointment as he continued.

"What the fuck was I thinkin’? Bringin’ a sweet thing like you into the trenches of hell with me," Butcher murmured more to himself than me, but I answered him anyway.

"You were saving me."

Butcher scoffed, "Don't be a daft cunt. I fucked up your life."

I shook my head in firm disagreement. "Stop talking like this, and come back to bed."

I stepped back and slipped in between the sheets, hoping he would follow me. Instead, Butcher regarded me as if I were a puppy he had just kicked. So much guilt riddled into one man.

"Butcher, I am my own person," I huffed. "So how about you let me take responsibility for my own actions that got me shot that day. You were the one telling us all to get back to the van, yet I was moronic enough to pull out my own gun as if I was going to fight the unseeable son of a bitch. If I had followed your orders, I would've gotten to cover quicker and never would've been shot. Now, goddamnit, come back to bed."

Butcher swallowed as he processed my words before finally shuffling back to the bed.

"If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it my way," he whispered as he mirrored his earlier position over me, dragging up my shirt up once again.

I gave him a confused look, but he disregarded it as he began littering my body with kisses, soft and warm. His lips traced every inch of skin that was revealed by his shirt, wrapped around me, until he reached my scar and stopped for a second time, taking extra care to worship that specific area.

Butcher dragged his lips around the sensitive flesh, mumbling, "Never again. Never again will I let somethin’ happen to ya’."

My head rested against the bed as I relished in the tenderness Butcher was displaying.

"No one is ever gonna touch my girl again."

My girl.

To that, my head snapped up as I gazed at Butcher, stunned.

It's possible he was too lost in the moment and had a slip of his tongue, but the softer side of me, which was hidden deep below many layers of intense insecurity and genuine self-hatred, hoped that the term was intentional.

Butcher seemed to notice my rigid stature, and he looked up into my face, displaying all of the thoughts running through my head.

"That's what ya’ are, right?" He asked, reaching up to tuck a stray hair behind my cheek.

"I don’t know. Am I?." My nerves had caused my voice to grow weak.

"Ain’t that how it usually works? A bloke finds a pretty lady and asks her to be his."

I took a shallow breath before daring to speak.

"Well, please forgive me, but I don't recall you ever asking me."

Butcher took on a look of mock confusion as he ran a finger under his chin, pretending to think.

"Have I not asked ya’ yet? I swear it's on me to-do list."

I giggled at his playfulness before Butcher leaned forward and cupped my face with both his hands.

"Josephine, will you please be my girl?"

Any traces of teasing had vanished as Butcher gazed at me earnestly, holding his breath as he waited for my answer.

"Yeah, ok," I smiled shyly, experiencing bashfulness for the first time in my life.

Butcher all but tackled me, pulling me into his arms and covering my head and neck with kisses. My laughter bounced off the walls, and I wrapped my arms around him, saying a silent prayer of thanks that after so much misery and consternation, he was finally and officially mine.

Our lips met in a feverish kiss before I pulled back, much to Butcher's dismay.

"I am more than happy to be your girlfriend, but I won't hesitate to break up with you if you ever call me Josephine again."

"Yes, ma'am," Butcher smirked before he wasted no time to draw me in for another kiss. Our tongues clashed as we stole the dominant role from each other multiple times.

Soon enough, our clothes were abandoned, and Butcher was quick to sink his thick length into my entrance, which was dripping just for him.

"S’only been a few bloody hours since I was inside ya’, yet you're still so fucking tight. God, what a perfect whore you are for me."

I preened under his praise that was sprinkled with the perfect hint of degradation.

"Move, please," I begged as I helplessly clenched around him, threatening to make him finish much earlier than he wanted to.”

Giving in to my pleas, Butcher pulled all the way out before forcefully thrusting back in. He began to fuck me urgently, and my walls excepted him every time he entered me with ease, thanks to my slick that was now coating my thighs and his heavy balls.

I drifted in and out of the ability to communicate, soon coming to the point where my only answer to Butcher's dirty phrases was a small cry of "Daddy" as hot tears rolled down my cheeks. I had already orgasmed several times, but Butcher seemed determined to completely ruin me to the point where I really couldn't remember how to walk.

"Poor thing. Just needed Daddy's cock, huh?"

Another strangled moan exited my throat, but any attempt at an actual reply was hijacked by Butcher's phone ringing.

Both of our heads shot to where the device sat on the bedside table, and the name "MM" blinked brightly on the screen.

"You should get it," I encouraged, momentarily distracted from the way Butcher was roughly pounding into me.

"I'll call him back," Butcher replied sharply as he gripped my hips in his big hands, bringing my body to meet his thrusts.

"But, what if Hughie and him are in trouble?" I asked, throwing my head back as Butcher hit a particular spot against my gummy walls that always had me coming in moments.

"They could be fuckin’ dyin’ right now, and that still wouldn't be enough to drag me away from this cunt. Besides, MM texted last night sayin’ they were safe n’ sound."

I had no real chance of winning the argument as soon as Butcher's thumb touched my aching clit, whispering praises in my ear.

"You can do it, doll. Come for Daddy one more time. Give him a nice and big one."

I was seconds away from coming like Butcher had told me to when his phone buzzed again with another incoming call, causing my head to snap sideways and study the device as MM's name popped up once again.

"Mm, Butcher, you need to answer. There must be a problem if he’s calling you again," I tried to reason as I mourned my ruined orgasm thanks to MM's persistent attempt at making contact.

Butcher grunted in frustration as he slowed his thrusts but didn't stop completely, letting his fat cock continue to stretch me open.

"Be a good girl and stay quiet, yeah?" Butcher instructed as he kept a firm grip on one of my hips and used his other hand to hold his phone, bringing it to his ear.

"Oi, what the fuck do ya’ twats want?" He yelled gruffly into his phone.

Even though MM couldn't see us, just knowing that even a tiny sound from me would give away what we were doing made my face heat with embarrassment. It was entirely humiliating, but I knew Butcher was betting on the fact that it would get me off, and I was ashamed to admit that he was right. But he had already received confirmation by the way I pulsed around him, and he sent a smirk my way before answering MM.

"Yeah? Well, just be careful, and tell Hughie to pull his head outta his bum and look where he's bloody walkin’."

Butcher was quiet as MM's muffled voice sounded from the other side of the call, and I slapped a hand over my mouth as Butcher's length grazed my cervix, causing my lashes to wet with tears.

"Oh, us? Yeah, we're alright. Jo? Yup, she's doing just fine. Cool as cucumber she is.”

Butcher rolled his eyes as his hips momentarily slowed before immediately speeding up to rival his previous pace.

"Yes, I am being a perfect gentleman, MM. What? You don't believe me? Well, why don't ya’ ask her yourself?"

My eyes bugged out in alarm as Butcher tried to hand me the phone, but I slammed it against his chest and shook my head, silently begging for him to have mercy on me.

Butcher snickered, thoroughly entertained, as he brought his cell phone back up to his ear.

"Oi, sorry, but Jo seems to be sleepin’. Yep, she had a very tirin’ night last night. What can I say? The poor girl is knackered."

By this point, I was completely out of it, and all it took was a single brush of Butcher's thumb over my swollen clit again before I was coming.

I wasn't even aware that Butcher had hung up or orgasmed himself as my vision blacked and I lost feeling in my limbs.

"You ok, doll?" Butcher asked softly, drawing me back to consciousness.

I could only whine in response, and I felt Butcher spread my legs before a warm towel caressed my skin, cleaning me up. I moaned my thanks through a horse throat.

Finally, I peeled my eyes open as Butcher gently sat me up to pull his shirt back over my body.

"You just rest here, yeah? And I'll go scrounge about downstairs for somethin’ for us to nip on. That sound good, darlin?”

I nodded with a blissed-out smile on my face, enjoying the feeling that I was floating on clouds rather than lying on a simple mattress.

But just as Butcher opened the door to leave, I stopped him.

"What did MM want? Are he and Hughie ok?"

Butcher did little to suppress his laughter as he ran a hand down his face.

"MM just wanted to let me know that Hughie had apparently fallen and hit his head. The gash was so deep that MM thought it would be best if he took the lad to the hospital. He was lettin’ me know in case they were spotted."

"Hughie fell? Did he trip over something?"

"Yup. His own two feet."

I snorted loudly as I ducked my head into my pillow and listened as the door clicked shut behind Butcher as he exited the room.

With my eyes now closed again, I blindly reached my hands out, searching for the covers. Upon finding them, I pulled them over my head and curled up on my side, deciding to take a cat nap as I waited for Butcher to return with breakfast.

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tag list: @weallhaveadestiny @im-nowhere-but-also-somewhere @mandossillyriduur

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abandoned masterlist

[goldieghoulie]

New Chapter! (17 of 18)

Goodbyes are said and Isabel and Secondo head back to the Ministry.

Story summary

Having fled the instability of Scotland when the Bruce declared himself king, Isabel has spent the past years living off the goodwill of her royal godmother, but that can’t go on forever. With no offers of marriage forthcoming, and no other abbeys willing to take her, Isabel hopes the Ministry at Linköping will at last offer her a home.

Read on AO3

or a snippet below the cut

The chest stood nearly empty, the wools and gifts they had brought with them had been long since distributed. Most to Bunny and Ingeborg, though a bolt of cloth had found its way into Mary's hands as well. Now Isabel had nearly finished packing the last of her habits away, only the one she would wear the next day left free and easy to reach in the morning.

She had also shifted things so that her favorite surcoat, rich in embroidery and lush with it's fur lining was easy to reach. For as conflicted as her emotions were about leaving, this was something she had no qualms about. She eagerly awaited the moment when she could remove her veil, wimple, and habit and return to herself. She figured she'd have to wait until they stopped for lunch, but she could make it that long.

Isabel held her old, green silk garters in her hands and debated what to do with them. Bunny, good to her word, had gotten her a new pair in silk velvet—the color a deep, wine red. They were decadent and, though Isabel would never admit it where Secondo could hear, much nicer than the scraps of silk.

"Something missing?" Bunny asked from where she sat on the bed. Isabel kept the garters clasped in her hand as she turned to see her.

"No, just trying to figure out what to do with these." She lifted the garters to indicate the trouble. Bunny glanced down and her face softened.

"If you'd told me about them originally, I wouldn't have bothered with the new ones."

"I know. But the new ones are nice."

"Is that the trouble then?"

"Mostly."

Bunny tilted her head and studied Isabel. "Are you worried that he won't try to get under your skirts?"

"No!" Isabel chuckled. "I have genuinely never had that concern."

"Then what? Something wrong with him finding his token on your legs?"

Isabel shrugged. She turned so she half faced Bunny and sat on the edge of the bed. She considered the fabric as she drew it through her fingers, trying to find the words to explain what she felt. "Mayhap. After this time, this distance, I don't know if I can-"

"Can?" Bunny prompted when Isabel didn't immediately continue.

Isabel let out a heavy breath. She wasn't doing a great job explaining, but these were tricky emotions to name. "I think I've gone numb. Or, rather, what I mean is I've gotten good at ignoring this thing between us. It still hurts, but I've gotten used to it. It's a familiar pain, one I can ignore. Mostly."

"How does that relate to the garters?" asked Bunny, sympathy softening her voice.

"If he- if we resume everything it will be like tearing off the scab. I won't be able to ignore it anymore."

"Do you want to keep ignoring it?"

"I don't want to go through these past two weeks again when he leaves."

"And you're so certain he will?"

Isabel looked up. Bunny met her with a challenging expression. Over the past two weeks Bunny had never wavered in her insistence that Secondo returned Isabel's affection and would move heaven and, perhaps literally, hell to keep her by his side. Isabel let her believe that. She knew better. "His life is in Italy, Bun. Mine is in Sweden. I'm not about to give it up, just ask Mary."

"You said he was retiring," Bunny insisted. It was the same discussion they'd already had several times and Isabel didn't want to have it again on their last night together. Keeping her peace, she stood and placed the garters in the trunk then closed the lid.

"That's it then? You're not letting him close again?" The rebuke in Bunny's tone surprised Isabel. She turned and leaned her butt against the trunk as she took in Bunny's frown.

"I told you Bunny, I can't-"

"And I told you not to lie to me, Isabel."

"I'm not."

"You are." With a determined expression on her face, Bunny clambered over the blankets to get off the bed and stand in front of Isabel. "You can let him in again. Let him make you happy. You're just scared."

Isabel opened her mouth on her instinctual rebuttal but stopped. She shut her mouth slowly then tried again. "You might be right."

"I know I am. You're so scared of the idea of him leaving that you won't even give him the chance to tell you that he's not."

"But how will I know that he's speaking true," Isabel asked in a small voice, giving sound to the fear that ate at her heart.

"Get it in plain language." Bunny leaned forward to snag one of Isabel's hands in her own. "And trust him. At least a little. He does care for you, even if you're unwilling to see it."

Isabel opened and shut her mouth again. She had promised not to lie to Bunny, and it would seem that it also meant she couldn't lie to herself. She did see his affection, she just refused to let it matter. But that wasn't a point that would be changed with more discussion between herself and Bunny. This was their last night, they could find other topics to discuss.

"I'll try, Bunny. That I can promise." Isabel said.

Bunny held her gaze a moment longer then nodded and released her to climb back into bed. "Grab the wine, will you?"

Isabel moved to the table and grabbed the pitcher and mugs from the table. The nearby cradle and pallet were empty, the maid having taken Erik to sleep in another room to give Isabel and Ingeborg a last night alone together. Carrying the wine, Isabel moved back to the bed. She handed them to Bunny before crawling in herself and pulling one blanket over her lap and the another around her shoulders.

Bunny passed her a mug once she was settled and Isabel took a sip. The silence stretched out as they both considered their futures before them.

"Do you think there's still hope?" Bunny asked in a voice just above a whisper. Isabel didn't need to ask to know about what; as time drew on with no news about the captured dukes, tensions throughout the castle had risen.

"There's always hope." Isabel replied.

"Is there?"

"We don't know anything of what happened to them since the banquet. They could-" Bunny's dry laugh interrupted Isabel.

"I don't want platitudes," said Bunny, head down as she studied her wine. "I can hope all I want, but I don't want to make a fool of myself. Tell me true, do you think Valdemar still lives?"

Isabel bit her lip as debated how to answer. Bunny had asked for the truth, but it was hardly a truth she wanted to speak. Still, Isabel owed her at least that. "No. It's been too long with not even whispers from the king's castle. I have hope too…but no."

Bunny nodded. Isabel waited for some other reaction, but Bunny just rotated the cup she held. A gentle knock at the door broke the moment and both women turned to look at it.

"Come in," Bunny called in a strong voice.

The door eased open and Ingeborg's head peaked around the wood. "Can I- I'm not disturbing?"

"No, you're not. Come in," Bunny bade her. Ingeborg slid fully into the room and secured the door behind her. She had obviously been getting ready for bed herself, her hair was down in two plaits and she had wrapped herself in a blanket. Without her fancy clothes and sparkling jewels she looked every year of her youth. She hesitated a moment, as if suddenly unsure. Isabel shifted to make more space on the bed and Ingeborg took the silent signal, crawling into the open space and sitting so she faced both Bunny and Isabel.

"What were you two talking about?" Ingeborg asked. Unlike if they were in the hall, no demand flavored the question, just simple curiosity. Isabel looked to Bunny for the answer, not wanting to reveal her thoughts without permission.

"Whether we dare hope," Bunny said.

"And?" Ingeborg prompted.

Bunny shrugged. Ingeborg's attention turned to Isabel. Isabel shrugged as well before adding "hope, but be ready."

"That's what I was afraid of." Ingeborg pulled the blanket closer about herself, then stuck out a hand towards the wine cup Isabel was holding. "Can I?"

Isabel relinquished it easily and Ingeborg took a deep sip before passing it back. She shifted around again before continuing, "if my husband…what does that mean for me? For us?"

"A regency," Isabel said softly. "Your son will need guidance until he's old enough."

A twisted smile pulled at Ingeborg's face until a silent tear slid from her eye. Isabel's heart broke a bit for her. She was still younger than Isabel had been when she'd gone to live at the Ministry, she couldn't imagine having to assume such responsibility at that age.

"I'll cling to hope for the moment, then," Ingeborg said softly. Isabel held out the wine again and she took another deep sip. Isabel let her keep the mug.

"Let's find a happier subject," Bunny said. She climbed off the bed and fished around her belongings until she produced a chess board. "I know none of us are great players, but perhaps it will be a diversion."

"I'll be on Isabel's team!" Ingeborg declared, using one hand to wipe her face.

"That won't help you," Isabel laughed. "I'm no good."

"But you're a nun. What else do you do but study?"

"Stitch you handkerchiefs!" Isabel laughed and Ingeborg grinned widely back at her.

"Worth it." She scooted until she bumped shoulders with Isabel. "Scoot over, you can be on my team then."

"Fine," Isabel ceded her spot, still chuckling. "But if you get the horses killed I'll be cross with you."

"Is that your strategy?" Ingeborg asked with a raised eyebrow. "Protect the horses."

"Yes," Bunny answered before Isabel could. "Every time."

Ingeborg shook her heads in exaggerated sympathy. "No wonder you're no good."

"Hey!" Isabel cried and took the opportunity to steal the wine back. She made more room for Ingeborg in front of the chess board and settled in to be a terrible teammate.

[joshua-flipping-washington]

A Good Day For Magic

Crowley and Aziraphale sit on a bench overlooking a park filled with dinosaurs, the one's that humans have yet to realize were a complete joke and had never existed in the first place. Just another one of the Almighty's little games. But humans were clever, they'd eventually figure it out. They were constantly learning, building, changing and growing as the years stretched on.

Below them walked Warlock and his mother Harriet, she was pointing out the dinosaurs, and seemed to be talking to him in a sort of excitement of her own about something, and the boy seemed to be only half listening, as if he wasn't too interested in what she was speaking to him about. Perhaps, even rather annoyed, could be used to describe the expression on his face, Aziraphale thought.

Crowley's arms are crossed over his chest, and though he speaks, he doesn't turn his head to look at Aziraphale. " Well, we've done everything we can. All we can do now, is wait for his birthday. The Hell Hound will be key. Shows up at three on Wednesday. "

Aziraphale had been inclined to just nod along as Crowley spoke, in complete agreement with him, " Right. " Until he realized, that he couldn't recall there ever being a mention of there being a Hell Hound. " You've never actually mentioned a Hell Hound before. "

Crowley looked over at Aziraphale out of the corner of his eye, and gave a small nod of his head. He really hadn't been paying much attention when checking in with Hell throughout the last 11 years, and considering that Aziraphale and himself were trying to make sure Warlock was more human than anything, he hadn't thought much about Hell actually sending a Hell Hound, as he had some inkling of hope that they'd succeeded in making Warlock normal. " Oh yeah. Yeah, they're sending him a Hell Hound, to pad by his side and guard him from all harm. "

Aziraphale wasn't surprised that Hell had decided to send a creature such as a Hell Hound, he supposed it made sense that they'd want the Anti-christ to have all the protection he might possibly need. " Oh. "

" Biggest one they've got. " Crowley couldn't begin to imagine how long they'd been crafting the perfect Hell Hound, the demon's might be incompetent for the most part, but they knew how to do evil, even if it didn't seem like it at times.

Aziraphale's brows knit together as he thought, and he fidgeted with his hands, twisting his ring around his finger before opening his mouth to speak. " Well... Won't people remark upon the sudden appearance of a huge black dog? His parents, for start? "

Crowley set his jaw, his lips pulling into a thin line for a moment. " No one will notice anything. It's reality, angel. " The demon straightens up his posture, gaze flicking back down to Warlock. " And young Warlock can do what he likes with that, whether he knows it or not. It's the start of it all. The boys meant to name it. Um... " He pauses for a brief moment, to think up evil sounding names the Anti-christ might give his Hellish companion, should he name it. " Stalks by Night, Throat-Ripper, er, something like that. "

He does a small hand gesture, but does not uncross his arms. " BUT, if you and I have done our jobs properly, then he'll send it away unnamed. "The angel does his best not to let himself feel too anxious, now was certainly NOT the time. " But what if he DOES name it? "

Crowley finally turns his torso and faces Aziraphale, his expression is unreadable for a moment, before Aziraphale registers it as something akin to, perhaps fear? But it was always so hard to tell with the shades. " Then you and I will have lost, he'll have all his powers, and Armageddon will be days away. "

Aziraphale rubs his hands over the tops of his thighs, already able to feel the anxiety bubbling in his chest, there had to be something they could do. Someway to prevent Armageddon from starting in the first place. " There must be some way of stopping it. "

Crowley's brows drew tightly together for a moment, before they shot up as he thought of something, he leaned back against the back of the bench more, lips slightly pursed as he proposed. " If there was no boy... Then the process would stop. "

Aziraphale looked mildly perturbed, before he gestured down to where Warlock was huddled over a sign depicting the description of a dinosaur, an uncapped marker in his hand. " Yes, but there is a boy. He's right there, writing a rude word on a description of a dinosaur. "

Crowley tilted his head slightly, his mind working as he continued to try and get his point across to the angel. " Well, there is a boy NOW. That could change. Something could happen to him. " When the demon noticed that Aziraphale still didn't seem to understand what he was implying, he finally just blunty said. " I'm saying that you could kill him. "

Aziraphale's blue eyes widened at Crowley's suggestion, and he felt rather sick at the thought, and he couldn't tell if it was just because they'd helped raise Warlock, or because he was a still a child, Anti-christ or not. " I've never actually... Killed anything before. I don't think that I could. "

Crowley wasn't happy with it either, he loved the kid, enjoyed the years spent watching him grow up. Made him feel human. But one life, against all the other humans on earth- " Not even to save everything? One life... Against the universe. "

Aziraphale knew that this wasn't going to do, they didn't know if Warlock was even going to name the dog to begin with. It would only make sense if they were to attend his birthday party, and be there when the beast arrives. The gears in his mind immediately started to turn. " Then, this Hell Hound, it'll show up at his birthday party? "

Crowley's brow is arched in questioning for a moment, though when he speaks it's not poised as such. " Yeah. " What was going through Aziraphale's mind now?

Aziraphale is practically wiggling in excitement beside him, as he begins- " Well, then we should be there. Maybe I can stop the dog. In fact, I can entertain. "

Crowley's eyes widened, and he gives a firm shake of his head, his lip pulling back in a grimace. No he wasn't about to suggest- " No no no, please no. NO. "Aziraphale is already excitedly gesturing, gestures he'd use during his magic acts. " I just need to get back into practice. " He flexes his hands, and pulls himself to his feet. He digs into one of his pockets, trying to locate a coin, his smile is bright as he goes about trying to preform the human magic.

Crowley outwardly groans. " Oh no, no, no. Don't do your magic act. Please. Please! " His eyes follow Aziraphale as he continues to attempt to do his trick. " I'm actually begging you here. You have no idea how demeaning that is. Please. " Aziraphale fumbles, and accidentally drops the coin. " In your finger. "

The smile is able to be heard in Aziraphale's voice as he speaks. " No, it was in your ear. "

The demon sets his shoulders, wondering why Aziraphale got so much joy out of human magic. " It was in your pocket. "

Aziraphale tightens the grip on the coin he'd picked up, making a point to show Crowley. " It was close to your ear. "

Crowley gives a slow shake of his head, uncrossing his arms. " Never anywhere near my ear. "

Aziraphale is still smiling, even as he goes to sit back down beside Crowley on the bench. " You're no fun. "

Crowley arches a brow as he stares at Aziraphale. " Fun? "

" Yes. " Responds Aziraphale matter-of-factly.

" It's humiliating. You can do proper magic. You can make things disappear. " Crowley had seen Aziraphale do his fair share of miracles, just to get what he wants. He wasn't sure why he wouldn't let go of the human magic. Especially after the miracle block in 1941, where Crowley had actually had to shoot the gun at Aziraphale with no safety net in place. It still gave him nightmares on occasion, it could have gone pear shaped in an instant.

Finally, Aziraphale adds with a sense of finality. " But it's not as fun. "

Crowley tossed his head back with a groan. " Make you disappear. " He murmured beneath his breath.

Wednesday, 2:30 PM. [ Warlock's 11th birthday party ]

It hadn't been too difficult to pull a few strings and get both of them inside the party, not when the Dowling's already had a whole slew of waiters and other forms of entertainment coming for Warlock's party, intending to make it nothing but perfect for their boy. Even though all he really wanted was to do something with his close friends. So it had been very easy for Aziraphale to just snap his fingers, and suddenly their original entertainment had mysteriously become double booked elsewhere.

Since Aziraphale had decided that he was going to do his magic act, even though Crowley had tried desperately to get him to just disguise as a caterer like he was, or pretend he was one of the party planners who were bound to be flitting about. But it was to no avail, didn't seem to matter how much Crowley begged or groaned, Aziraphale was dead set on preforming his favorite human magic tricks.They has both made it a point to get there early, and of course they'd made sure it wouldn't look suspicious at all. Crowley walked into the back garden with his arms full of Aziraphale's tricks, as well as his trusty old sign that advertised his show.

Mrs.Dowling had stopped him on his way in, looking a bit confused. " Aren't you one of the caterers? Do you know the magician? "Crowley gave a half shrug of his shoulders, trying to keep a grip on all the items he's carrying, he wouldn't hear the end of it from Aziraphale if he broke anything. " Erm, I guess you could say that. He's important to me, is all. And he needed a hand. " Mrs. Dowling let him go after that, immediately going to fuss about some other little detail she wanted to be perfect.

The demon brought the stuff under the large white tent where he'd been instructed, and he plopped it all down onto a table that was conveniently sitting there, but the sign he propped against the table. He knew better than to try and set anything up, Aziraphale was very particular about stuff like that.Crowley was about to go and take up his place when Aziraphale ducked underneath the canopy of the white tent.

He couldn't help but think of how silly he looked in his little get-up, but considering it's age- The outfit still looked just as it had during 1941. And seeing the bright smile on the angel's face, it made Crowley's heart skip a beat.

" Thank you very much, dear boy. You really didn't have to carry it all. " Aziraphale said with a soft smile, giving the demon's chest a gentle pat, before he moved to start getting his area set up and ready for his little show. Oh, he was so very excited to finally have a chance to try out his human magic again! It almost made him forget the reason why they were really here, almost.

Crowley's golden eyes widened behind his glasses, and his posture immediately went rigid as Aziraphale's hand made contact with his chest. How on earth had he been able to do that so casually!? " Er, don't mention it. " He held up his finger. " Seriously, don't. Just knew that it'd take you forever to get it all in here by yourself. Seems it's all about to get started. "

The other wait staff started to make their way out to the back garden, as the sound of children, and parents or guardians alike started to pour out into the garden. It was suddenly VERY loud as the children started laughing and talking, all crowding around Warlock as he walks out of the house.

Crowley's gaze drifted over to Warlock and his group of friends, it was crazy to think that they'd watched him grow up, and now look at him- Dammit, Crowley knew that he was attached, but it was going to make the moment Warlock would either name the Hell Hound or send it away unnamed so much emotional, and high stakes. He wasn't meant to get attached, he was a demon for someone's sake! His eyes flickered back to Aziraphale. " Better go and take my place, you've got this, right? "

Aziraphale had mastered getting his stage all set up, the few times he'd been able to have his own show, and share the wonders of human magic! So, of course he already had it all set up perfectly. He grins brightly at Crowley, and gives him a double thumbs up. " Oh, absolutely perfect, my dear. Go on. "

Crowley walks off to join the other cateres across the way under the canvas tent, wrinkling his nose at the immediate barrage of scents he was hit with. There were far too many cultures mixed in the menu that was prepared, and many of them did not work together. But the Americans always had been a bit weird about that.

It didn't take long for the party to get started, Crowley tried not to move around too much, focusing instead on keeping the food under the tent organized and handing the other caterers what they needed when they ran out. His eyes would keep flicking to the watch on his wrist, watching as the time ticked by, slowly counting down towards 3' o clock.

Aziraphale had been practically buzzing with excitement, barely able to contain how thrilled he was to finally be able to preform again. But imagine his disappointment when eleven year old children were not at all excited about magic like he'd have hoped. Especially when they started heckling him, and tittering amongst themselves as well as out loud.

Aziraphale did not let his smile falter, as he held up his wand and got his top hat set up just so on the collapsible table, a magician never revealed his secrets after all. And he had already accidentally fumbled a whole deck of cards out into the crowd of children. " And with a wave of my wand, look whose come to greet us! " He reaches his hands down inside the top hat, and carefully pulls out a white rabbit. " Why it's our old furry friend, Harry the rabbit! "

One of Warlock's friends looks over at him, as the rest collectively groan at the rabbit in a hat trick. " I thought that you said you were supposed to have a celebrity musician. " Warlock looked away from the musician holding the rabbit, and towards the girl. " Well, he said that he was. I heard my mom talking to him on the phone. " The little girl shook her head, meaning that she didn't think he was a celebrity musician. " I had Penn and Teller at my party, and I had a silent disco. And I got a- "

Warlock scrunched up his face, looking bored at the prospect of the magic tricks. Then he glanced back towards Aziraphale. " You're rubbish, the rabbit was inside of the table. I wanted to play laser tag. "

Another boy piped up after Warlock, agreeing with him. " He's right you know, you actually are rubbish. And probably a fag, you look the type, my dad would agree. "

Crowley's eyes flickered up from the watch he'd been staring down at, and his gaze zeroed in on the child who'd just called Aziraphale a not so kind word. Warlock had gotten that started, was it hopeless for the boy after all? No matter, Crowley might be a demon, but he wouldn't stand for letting some child call his only friend a nasty slur. Had they not raised Warlock right after all? He was laughing with his friends, could that all be the human peer-pressure, or was he really a lost cause?

Aziraphale was carefully holding onto Harry, his gaze flicking back and forth over the crowd of children. Oh, this was supposed to be just like riding a velocipede! It wasn't possible to forget, why did he always have an issue starting out? He loved slight of hand magic! But instead he was just getting heckled by a bunch of eleven year olds. What happened to the days where anyone would marvel at the joys of magic?

Crowley snapped his fingers and the child who had insulted Aziraphale suddenly found themselves with a nasty case of the hiccups, and all the critters in the garden he'd find as he goes to leave, had suddenly taken a liking to him. It was a harmless little prank, and about all he could manage to do without drawing too much attention. The child looks confused, as he can't stop hiccuping, but he still talks with Warlock and the others.

The demon's golden eyes drifted back down to his watch, just in time to see it flip to 2:59, any moment now the Hell Hound would be upon them, and the fate of all life on Earth as they knew it could be at stake. He begins to count down the seconds, shouts suddenly erupting around him as Harriet Dowling announces that they can eat the cake.

The watch ticks to 3:00, and Crowley doesn't feel anything different. But he can hear the chunks of frosting coated cake whizzing right past him, as the children decide it's the perfect time to start a food fight. The demon, miraculously manages to keep his white clothes stain free, but the angel on the other hand, got whacked right in the face, nearly dropping Harry. His suit was coated in frosting and cake crumbs.

Aziraphale immediately grabbed up what he could after locking eyes with Crowley, and they both make their way out of the back garden and to the Bentley. He shoves his stuff into the backseat of the vehicle, carefully closing the door back. " It was all a bit of a disaster, I'm afraid. " Crowley gave a shake of his head, though he might not be the BIGGEST fan of Aziraphale's magic, he knew it made the other happy. " Nonsense, you gave them all a party to remember. Last one any of them will ever have, mind. "

Aziraphale's brows furrowed as he frowns, reaching up into his coat to pull out the dove he'd accidentally killed. He gives it a gentle tap on the chest as he speaks to Crowley. " It's late. "Crowley opened the driver side door to the Bentley, and went to slide in. " Comes of putting it up your sleeve. "

Aziraphale smiled as the dove came back to life, and he carefully gave it a gentle toss. " No, the Hell Hound. It's late. "

Suddenly the speakers in the Bentley crackle. ' Isle of Skye, and your time starts- ' " Hello, Crowley. " Cuts a voice through the stereo.

" Uh, hi. Who's this? " Crowley asked as he settled down into the seat, eyes glued to the stereo. Where was that Hell Hound?

" Dagon, Lord of the Files. Master of Torments. "

The voice almost sounded a bit annoyed, as they knew Crowley had met them before.

Crowley glanced around the area surrounding them, unable to spot or even sense the demonic presence of a Hell Hound. " Yeah, just checking in about the Hell Hound. "

Dagon's voice came through sounding concerned and confused, as Crowley always tried to make it seem like he had a handle perfectly on everything. " He should be with you now. Why, has something gone wrong, Crowley? "

Crowley's eyes widened at the suspicion in Dagon's voice, and he was quick to collect himself. " Wrong? No, no. Nothings wrong. What could be wrong? " The demon gives a purposeful pause before continuing. " Oh, no, I see him now, yes! What a lovely, big helly Hell Hound. Yes, OK, great talking to you. "

The radio cuts off and as Crowley sinks further in his seat, Aziraphale and himself lock eyes. " No dog. "

" No dog. " Was echoed back.

" Wrong boy. " Oh, how could they have had the wrong boy this entire time?

" Wrong boy. "

[grumpyascianteddybear]

@seatedsacrifice

@atdutiesend

Neither of you asked for this, but here it is.

She had joined him in the tower after recompleting herself. Aurora had only done it hoping that her ancient self would know how to save her father. Her mother was already gone, having returned and choosing never to reincarnate. She had never found it in herself to be mad about it. The eighth rejoining had taken away what they both held dear, and her mother could not cope with the loss. After Eons of heartbreak, to lose him again after only just getting him back had been the final nail in the coffin.

Now she walked the Crystarum, dressed in a white cloak with gold detailing. A mask that once symbolized love adorned her face, keeping her features from view. It mimicked the shape of her father's crimson mask but was handed painted. A night sky with his constellation that the Aurora Borealis accented. The ridges of the mask were blue and held forget-me-nots: her mother's favorite flower and a reminder. She would never forget what they sought and what had to be done. The Warrior had to be saved, and the eighth calamity halted. It was the only way to save both her parents and her other self.

Symphony was already here, but there were others here as well. Raha had trouble getting a hold of the warrior and perhaps worse yet. Her mother had followed, using ascian technics to do it. At first, it had confused her as to why, but upon finding that Symphony was a shard of her grandmother, it made sense. It also meant avoiding all of them as much as possible, as her mother would know this mask well. There were also constant questions about why they had not seen the famed Miss Borealis.

When Granpy appeared, she knew that she was dead in the water. She could not hide from his sight, so it was no surprise when he approached her. To see him like this, still possessing his sense of self, was jarring. The version of him she had last seen had joined Fandanial, bent on destroying the Star he had once loved dearly. His grief had been too much for his own mind to bear after losing his daughter and son-in-law.

“ Was it really that bad?”

The question earned him a humorless chuckle as she turned to face him. Her bi-color eyes now glowed and could easily be seen through the eyes of the mask. There was a tired look as if she had seen things no person should ever have to see. “ Considering my father ceases the exist, his soul slowly replaced with a primal. My mother returns and never reincarnates again after they lose him a second time which is now very permanent.”

Aurora watched him flinch as she spoke. For a moment, she saw it, the grief-stricken madness that would consume him in her timeline. “ And you, you were all I had left. You lose all semblance of yourself and join Fandanal on his crusade to end the star you once held so dearly.”

“ Alright, yes, all of that is absolutely terrible.”

Aurora drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes. He had already siphoned off two wardens from Symphony, the tempering crumbling under the weight of the light. This would make things easier. Once that tempering was gone, he could think clearly without the primals influence. He would once again be fit for his damned seat. After that, all that would be left was for her father to be cleansed. How that was going to happen, she did not know, given his connection to the primal. It was something they would not figure out later. With only he left among the unsundered-tempered, it would be harder for him to get things going.

“ The Eighth Calamity can never occur, or he will be lost, and with him so many others.” Aurora stated as she looked back out over the lands beyond the Crystarium. She often wondered, not tied to the tower like Raha was. They could do this. They would rewrite history, and all would be made right. She would cease to be most likely, but she was ready. Knowing her other self would not have to go through what she had put her at ease. 

“ She is returning with the light of another warden.” Aurora stated as she moved to leave him. She knew Granpy had much to think about. Things that his tempering likely didn’t enjoy at the moment. It would be weakened more soon, so she was not worried. She listened as he turned a walked away from her, footsteps fading fast. They had chosen to walk instead of teleport spoke volumes. 

“ You will not be lost this time, Daddy. I swear it on my very life.” She breathed out before teleporting to the top of the tower. She needed time to think about that little talk. Once Grandpa was no longer tempered, she knew her father would come. Would she be able to face him without breaking down in tears? Or would her carefully maintained poker face finally break? She supposed that only time would tell.

[ko-zakura]

Journal Entry: (Re)Training- Day 1

Last night, my father had surprised me with an unannounced visit to the adventuring company that I have decided to join, the Ebonheart Company, and he took it upon himself to start me on a new training regimen. I regret telling him about the recent mission that I had attended, when another member of the company had pointed out that my hesitation in taking one's life, despite their murderous intentions, could ultimately cost an innocent theirs. This news displeased him and 'unintentionally' urged his visitation upon the establishment to 're-train' me.

It is early in the morning, the sun has yet to break through the horizon and the dew droplets still cover the blades of grass. Father had me meet him at a small creek somewhere in Moraby Bay, of Lower La Noscea, to 'test my mettle' whilst he observed from a distance, to assess what type of training I am in dire need of. He was standing near the opening of a small cave with his arms crossed, waiting patiently for me.

I could see that he was not wearing his usual Sekiseigumi uniform, though it would make sense, considering that we're no longer in Kugane. Today, he wore his blue Samurai armor from his earlier days of combating against the Garlean force invasion. On his head, he wore his metal Jingasa and his usual plated covering over his left eye. During his days as a farm-hand on my mother's family farm, before they were married, he lost his eye to defending a herd of sheep against a monster. "I pray you've rested well, daughter." Was his opening statement.

"Good morning to you too, father." I retorted. Still unsure as to why we had to begin training so early. "Did we HAVE to come out here this early? The sun hasn't even risen yet..."

"A Samurai is always early to rise." He snapped, then turned his attention towards the east as the first rays of sunlight sliced through the skies, "Besides... what was that you were saying about the sun not rising yet?" He would smirk at his comment. However, I was not humored with his response as he returned his gaze upon me and continued. "You are here to deal with a minor nuisance of some river toads. I want to see how you handle this situation, you will also need to collect their legs and deliver them to a woman at the Red Rooster Stead, nearby, I recall her name to be Arenlona."

"What?! B-but, toads are gross! I'll get their blood and gunk all over my armor!" Was the first thing to leave my mouth, which immediately earned a scolding glare from my father, a rather terrifying look.

He hissed in a tone of disapproval, "Would you rather fight another Morbol in the swamps of the Black Shroud?"

Recalling my first mission with the company, and being rendered unconscious as a result from the beatings I had endured from it, I rolled my eyes and groaned in response, "Nooooo..." then drew my shield from my back as I began my approach towards the darkened cave.

His expression softened to a smirk as he leaned against the cave's outer wall, "Then 'hop' to it."

I covered my face with my armored hand at his unappreciated frog pun, "Really, dad? Heavens... you're so embarrassing."

"That's part of my job description as a father." His chuckle sent chills down my spine, he is not the type of person who should be allowed to laugh, it's a rather terrifying laughter. Though his chuckle was short-lived as he realizes that I had yet to draw my sword, he called out in a condescending tone as I passed the threshold of the cave's mouth. "Draw your sword, Ko Zakura."

I turned to argue with him about how I'm not a child anymore, but before I could open my mouth to say anything, both my legs were jerked out from under me by a large, sticky tongue that dragged me further into the cave. The muddy water from the shallow creek splashed up onto my face as mud sprayed everywhere. A squeal of surprise escaped my mouth as I rolled over to face my assailant. A rather enormous toad was crouching on a large stone slab with its mouth gaping wide open. I could see the abyss inside its maw and immediately began grasping at the tongue to free my legs, it felt so gross and slimy that I struggled to get a successful hold on it!

I squeezed my eyes shut as I drew closer to its mouth, preparing myself for the uncomfortable feeling of a small and slimy space. However, that moment never came as I felt myself lurch to a complete halt and the tongue's grasp weakened as it dropped. I opened my eyes to see my father standing a short distance away, with his back towards me and his katana drawn, my face scrounged into an expression of disgust at the sight of his weapon. The blade was dripping with thick, dark blood as he remained focused on the corpse of the enormous toad.

"You dropped your guard... that is why you must always have your blade drawn." He then used the inner bend of his elbow to wipe the blood from his blade and flung the grime towards the ground. After sheathing his katana, he immediately spun around in the murky water and marched back towards the mouth of the cave, with the edge of his Jingasa pointed more towards the ground, as he uttered in a disappointed tone. "I've seen enough, let us return to your company. I have much planning to do."

I picked myself up out of the water and slowly began brushing off the filth on my armor, then wordlessly followed behind him. Whenever he speaks in the tone that he had now, it was in my best interest to remain quiet, not due to fear... but due to the guilt of letting him down. Anyone who would witness the scene could easily compare me to that of a young canine following its master with its tail tucked between its hind legs, knowing full well of the trouble it was in. The remainder of our travel back to the company's mansion was an uncomfortable silence. Perhaps tomorrow will bear riper fruits.

[lokisgoodgirl]

Hello love 💕 my sincerest apologies if your requests aren’t open.

It’s 2am and idk why but my brain just needs a fic where y/n is a pinning mess over Loki. Like she just has a massive crush on him. I’m so sorry this is so vague, maybe I’m just projecting here lol. The team teasing her about it, Loki being and oblivious dork, cute soft ending, soft Loki.

I just wanna feel soft, actually if anyone out there has any good fluffy recs I’ll take them as well, I need some softness in my life 💗

Much love and gratitude

Fluff Drabble Marathon II A link to my Fluff Library is HERE Warnings: Some mild language. Some mild angst. Pining. (w/c 750) A link to my regular Masterlist is HERE [18+] A/N - Hope this makes you feel a bit better my darling.

The Crush

A crush. The name was apt, considering it weighed on your mind every damn minute of the day. The way he moved so effortlessly. So gracefully. The flat line under his chin which drew to the start of his elegant neck. How those taunt muscles on either side of his jaw popped momentarily when he smiled smugly before he said something clever. You wouldn’t be surprised if you had counted every strand of his dark hair twice over, the way it hung around his sharp cheekbones or brushed wildly back from his perfect face. Those dazzling eyes that held all the secrets of the universe, and you wanted to know every single one.

You would give anything...anything, to hear him whisper tales of swirling galaxies and ancient rituals under the sheets of his bed as you snuggled blissfully against his bare skin.

A few days ago, a small team of you had been trekking to a safe house through a remote canyon path, a mix of waist deep water and high rocks. The wetsuit covering his form had clung to his godly body in ways that made your brain want to explode. He walked in front of you, turning every so often when you lost balance on the rocks, extending his hand and letting it curl around your waist to steady you. Those broad shoulders, his muscles rippling under the black neoprene. The way it clung to his ass. It was a wonder you hadn’t hit your head and drowned. He had hovered around you the whole way, shadowing your movements on particularly dangerous sections of slippery rock, making you laugh as you fought against the freezing water. Making you fall more dangerously in love with him with every kindness. You watched as he ambled across the common room, reclining gracefully on the sofa and conjuring a book without a second glance. You would give anything to feel his arms wind around your body, holding you close to him as tightly as he could. To feel his fingers trace lightly up your arm, making your skin tingle. He was perfection. The others didn’t understand. The ones that knew. Every so often Wanda would make a side-ways comment when she caught you staring, and every time you would curse the red wine that made you spill your secret one regretful night through tears of frustration. They didn’t understand. How could they?

Loki’s eyes met yours across the room, a smile gracing his lips as he gave a small wave. You waved back, feeling your cheeks heat as you quickly looked away. Your heart pounded, seeing movement approaching out the corner of your eye. Did you have make-up on? You couldn’t remember. What did it matter? He didn’t care- “Good morning, darling” he said brightly, leaning on the counter across from you. You smiled widely. Too widely? Shit. “Hi.” you quipped, crossing your legs. “Is your knee improving?” he said, concern lacing his tone. You nodded, the bruise stinging from where you had stupidly crossed it with your other leg. You had stumbled pretty badly in the canyon, despite your protector’s efforts. Loki looked at you questioningly, raising his palm in a ‘come hither’ motion. “Let me have a look”, he murmured. You shuffled the leg of your sweatpants upward, trying desperately to remember the last time you shaved your legs. He knelt to the ground below the barstool on which you sat, clasping your bare calf gently in his hands.

“Ouch” he mumbled, brushing his fingertips over the purple bruise. You couldn’t breathe. He traced the lines of your muscles, skimming the grooves of your knee with a softness that made your stomach churn. You willed your mind to record the moment, blood thundering through your veins as he ran his large palms over the skin. “Now, don’t tell anyone…” he whispered, waving his fingers over your knee as a green glow encased it. The bruise shrank and disappeared, a low warmth spreading through your leg as his magic soothed your pain. He winked as your mouth fell open. “I didn’t know you could do that…” you gasped, genuine surprise making you forget your nerves. “I’m full of surprises, Y/N” he murmured in his velvet tones, looking up at you from the floor with something new in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. “But it’s our little secret, technically I’m not supposed to…” He ran his hands down your exposed calf. In a moment that you would later question if you had hallucinated, he leant forward, placing a gentle kiss on your freshly healed knee. “Good as new” he whispered against your skin. This crush was definitely not going away.

Fluff Tags (Reduced) @lokischambermaid @lady-rose-moon @loopsisloops @xorpsbane @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @nightshadelm @michelleleewise @mochie85 @theaudacitytowrite @holdmytesseract @sititran @mcufan72 @yelkmelk @awkward-and-indecisive @holymultiplefandomsbatman @muddyorbs @gigglingtigger @demoiseller @chantsdemarins @evelyn-kingsley @lollywritesstuff @wheredafandomat @thedistractedagglomeration

[theveryworstthing]

So over on patreon Trevor asked for my take on the Addams Family and I grew up LOVING the Addams family movies so here we are. Instead of doing a straight up style interpretation, I decided to do a full on design challenge, using the characters as bases to make a black southern gothic Addams au. I actually drew the kids first, using the character bases of Wednesday and Pugsley to create some delightful kiddos I'm calling Sunday and Blanche. I of course then redesigned Gomez and Morticia into Carlisle and Mortesha.

The Addams have a very specific high aristocratic goth aesthetic (they've got a butler and nobody really works among other things) so in this re-imagining I wanted to go with vibes that run a little more middle class/upper middle class.  I thought it would be interesting to think about what would be considered weird and off-putting in an entirely different culture, and how being a big ol' goth is way less controversial than it used to be.

I tried to keep this short (HAHAHAHAHAHA) so I didn't spin off into an essay about villain coded families, black people in the horror genre, and normalcy as it pertains to social survival, but just...bits of that are in these designs and lore. Keep that in mind.

Also I made the kids twins because they've flip flopped in age so much in different media and also twins run in my family (i'm the daughter of one). And let's face it, I'm pulling a lot of their southern gothic traits from living as a southern goth so *shrug*.

10 thousand pounds of lore incoming loooooooooool.

The Parents

From the moment he saw her he knew that there was a 50/50 chance of him either never making it out of that swamp alive or marrying the figure that was creeping out from under the distant willow tree in a black cocktail dress. The third time she found him trussed up in one of her traps, he complimented her rope work and asked if she'd like to go out sometime after his head wound stopped bleeding.

Or while it was still bleeding.

If she was into that.

Some kids and a mysteriously burnt down Piggly Wiggly later, their love is still as strong and inescapable as a bear trap in a sink hole.

Carlisle Guillermo (now Addams through marriage but I wanted to give him two first names for a name since Gomez has two last names) makes a vaguely described living practicing ‘law’ around town. A loophole king, people come to him from miles around with contracts signed in blood, fights over chunks of hair buried in their rivals’ yard, dehydrated primate hands, memories that seemed like dreams until the evidence of their happenings became too real, and other regular Legal Items asking for counsel which he is all too happy to give. For a price. Sometimes that price is a homemade pie and sometimes it’s a million dollars, depends on who you are. Whatever you’re asked to pay it’s worth that price, and if you try to scam him out of work or he just plain doesn’t like you? Well. He knows how to twist a contract better than anything at the crossroads.

And he always gets his due.

He doesn’t just serve the local (living)humans though, there are many things that need proper legal representation in this day and age. You wouldn’t believe how many city councils try to build on sacred burial grounds even after he lets them know that his ghostly clients are totally gonna haunt the FUCK out of the ensuing shitty condos and curse their families for all eternity. At least 50% of his energy goes towards dealing with real estate bullshit.

Carl is an excitable and good natured(?) man who loves his family, cigars, dancing, and his many knife-based hobbies. People find him very charming once they get past the feeling that they’re talking to a sultry gator badly disguising itself as a human. I didn’t put a ton of deep thought into designing him, mostly I wanted to make a middle aged dude who looked like he would have been voted ‘most likely to smooch the literal devil’ in high school. Tbh he probably has, but no demonic ex’s can compare to his lovely wife~

Mortesha Addams(her name was already perfect so I just tweaked it)is a woman of many talents. A self proclaimed homemaker, she prides herself on a greenhouse full of Concerning Foliage, a beautiful wasp apiary, and a coop full of what are probably chickens that she keeps for what are probably eggs. She’s also an avid creator of the outsider art that can be seen around the estate. She has taken on the family business of selling her homemade goods in a little stall by the road just outside the swamp with her mom, and makes pretty good money doing so. A surprising amount of poison gets bought in quaint southern towns.

Speaking of poison, people who come out to the edge of the swamp to buy it are usually carrying a lot of secrets around, and Mortesha knows most of them. It’s not like she pries the truth out of people, it just so happens that many nervous hellos eventually turn into the tragic backstory power hour if she’s alone with a client for long enough. She supposes that’s just how people are. Despite the fact that the Addams are very active in the community (whether the community likes it or not) she especially, as a direct descendant of the first Addams matriarch, is seen as…Well not an outsider because the community feels A Certain Way about outsiders and despite it all the Addams are their people, but maybe something like an exception. They feel like whatever weirdness they’re hiding can’t be weirder than any given Addams, so they get a little loose with their words.

This is amusing to her, since Addams’ don’t naturally keep the kind dramatic secrets that their surface level prim and proper neighbors do. It’s much more fun to openly talk about those things.

Do they have a sadly decrepit yet terrifying grandma up in the attic? Yeah, like three. They got a tv, all the creepy porcelain dolls they could want, and they’re close to family. Where do you keep your gram-grams?

Any bodies buried on the property? Yeah some, but most are thrown to the gators.

Any creeping through the balmy summer night with ill intentions? Yeah dude, everyone loves a nice family stroll.

What about dangerous forbidden love? If an adult Addams isn’t incorporeal then they’re either queer or in a torrid romance with some person/thing mysteriously drawn to that awful swamp. Sometimes both at the same time. Most times actually.

Mortesha would know.

The current head of the Addams family is just as outgoing as her husband but a lot quieter and harder to read. She never really seems to get mad about much and always has a genteel smile for everyone whether they deserve it or not. A seven foot tall human shaped “Oh, bless your heart”. A perfectly composed Lady even when she’s, oh I dunno, burning down a Piggly Wiggly. You know. A regular southern mom. Chat her up at the hair salon for 50% off a jar of wasp honey with your next purchase of a mysterious but foreboding packet of herbs.

Designing her was pretty easy because I just drew a lankier Grace Jones and called it a day. I had some problems with her outfit simply because if we were going HARD southern gothic then she’d probably be wearing a white/cream dress with a fuller skirt but I thought keeping the silhouette and the black was more important. She’s supposed to be an anti southern gothic southern gothic character anyway. A woman who looks like she has a million secrets who is actually the most open person you could meet. For better or worse. The red hair came from a coloring error that I really ended up liking (my mom had red hair her whole childhood that only darkened up in high school so I can buy that an Addams can be naturally fire engine red) and the veil was to get more of that classic Morticia silhouette in there.

The Children

Sunday and Blanche are the twin children of Carlisle and Mortesha Addams. Some say the Addams clan got their cursed homestead when a wealthy local businessman made a deal with the devil and lost, leaving his grand mansion to his least favorite maid and cutting his losses once he realized that the swamp would do everything it could to drag the house into the water and take what was owed with its horrible curse. Others say that the family has just always squatted there and no one really cares because man, fuck that particular swamp. Have you been in there? Absolute horror show.

Anyway.

Blanche is the more outgoing sibling and quite the engineer/mad scientist in the making. He started going grey at 2 weeks old but considering he was also rocking some extra fingers, toes, and a tiny tail (he takes after his dad), his parents just put it on the 'not life threatening' pile and decided not to worry about it. He's the kind of smart that teachers find utterly infuriating, less a dog eagerly learning and obeying commands and more a hyena who keeps teaching itself how to pick locks. He has a few friends in his school's robotics club (which they honestly allowed him to make so the school could contain his... creations) but mostly hangs out with his sister exploring the swamp. They find all sorts of neat things in there! wedding rings, suspiciously lumpy garbage bags, cloaked cultists who can't read private property signs, it's an adventure every day!

Blanche is all about experimentation with his creations, his look, and his tether to this mortal coil. Is lipstick a cool thing to try? Let's find out. Can he get out of a strait jacket fast enough after being pushed into the depths of the swamp by his sister? let's find out. He's not dead yet and confused local doctors can attest to the fact that he's rarely attained more than a bad bruise so he's pretty set on continuing to kiss rattlesnakes on their cute little heads and have his sister practice her knife throwing at him until that fact changes.

Blanche is very much a country goth. Cowboy boots (customized by his mom), knife, and lighter are daily accessories. He likes to wear the crusty swamp jewelry they find (the rust adds a splash of color!) and despite appearances he does try to keep himself neat. He's just got  natural Grunge Colors and a tendency to wear clothes he likes until they fall apart. Pugsley always seemed the most modernly styled to me (which might just be because little boys clothes have been the same for a long time) so I wanted Blanche to be the most purposely fashionable Addams. Everyone else is goth by nature, but he's the only one truly familiar with goth as an alternative fashion.

I got really into designing Blanche because honestly, I find Pugsley to be the most boring member of the family. And he was hard to design! I had to mess with his vibe a lot to get him looking how I wanted. I know he's supposed to evoke an " 'evil' little boy next door who's parents never reign him in", but that's just goth Dennis The Menace.  I's 2020. We can at least go queer goth Calvin.

Sunday was much easier to design. Wednesday was my favorite as a child (of course) and I really wanted to keep the spirit of her look while adding things like billowy sleeves (it gets HOT down here), big poofy twists instead of braids, and a nice tie. She's a professional after all, been running the local pet cemetery since she was 6 and the previous groundskeeper met with an unfortunate accident after telling her that tarantulas don't have souls. Her specialty is creating beautiful naturalistic animal funerals similar to those that Maquenda (https://linktr.ee/artofmaquenda) makes, and she takes pride in creating miniature dioramas of her subjects after each burial which she uses as a kind of 3D catalog for future clients.

She really wants to try out her skills on humans one day. Well. Publicly try out her skills. Lotta random bodies float into the swamp. None of them have turned down her requests for diorama models so far. Most seem downright flattered. Plus, she usually figures out which graveyard/crime scene they floated over from and gets her parents to give them a lift back. She'll even help enact terrifying revenge from beyond the grave on whoever put them there if she's not, y'know, busy.

Besides arts, crafts, and pet based funerary arrangements, Sunday is an avid lover of archery (any ranged weapon really), books where little fantasy adventure animals die dramatic deaths, and history. She is That Kid who eagerly raises her hand when asked who Christopher Columbus was and ends up being sent out of class after 15 minutes for making 'a scene'. Her favorite party trick is just picking an item in the room and talking about how it relates to either some obscure historical figure with a buck wild life or a horrible disaster. At least one charity pancake breakfast ended with children in tears after her vivid description of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.

Social-wise, while Wednesday is the girl that people ask to smile because they think she'd, "look so pretty", Sunday is rarely asked anything at all. People just kind of assume from her quiet nature (in between horrible history facts) that she's angry all the time and that she hates everyone. This is untrue. She hates some people but she's ambivalent to most everyone else and even downright friendly if you bother to talk to her like a person instead of a terrifying cryptid. Like, she IS a terrifying cryptid but she's also a little girl.  

That’s about it for now. One day I might do the other family members but for now I’m happy with the four I’ve redesigned. Making an au! Lurch in a family that doesn’t do butlers could be interesting. Over on patreon I put forth that he could just be Motesha’s mute little brother (similar bone structure) but Amy Crook had the nice idea of quote: “ a mysterious "cousin" that "helps around the house" whose origins are both long in the past and faintly unsettling. He's good for lifting heavy things, like that tank of propane you're about to throw into the burning Piggly Wiggly... “ which i now consider canon. Who's kid is he? How old is he? Not important. Anyone willing to commit arson with you is family.

Annnnyway.  This challenge was a lot of fun! I love indulging in AU’s.

[queen-haq]

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 13

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 13

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and smut.

Words: ~3000 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost...

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8   Part 9  

Part 10   Part 11   Part 12

gif credit: @bilyrusso

Part 13

It was 8 in the evening and you were still in the office. You hadn’t accomplished much work today, your mind mostly focused on Billy. You were surprised by how quickly he’d been able to make the funeral arrangements for his mother. Yesterday you had driven over to the nursing home and by the time you reached there, Carla Russo’s body had already been picked up. You’d signed a few papers for Billy and picked up the remainder of Carla’s things before you returned home. Everything of hers was packed into a small suitcase and sitting in your living room. You wanted to call him, ask him how he was and offer your support, but he seemed determined to do everything on his own when you’d talked to him last and you didn’t want to intrude.

You gave yourself a mental shake, reminding yourself to concentrate. This workday had been a wash. When you weren’t distracted by thoughts of Billy, you were putting out fires in your team. At least the personnel conflicts have been temporarily resolved, but now you needed to work on a slide deck that you’d been tasked with presenting to the executive leadership committee later in the week.

An hour later you were halfway done with your presentation when your phone rang. You glanced down at your screen to find Billy’s name on the screen. “Hi.”

“Hey.” He sounded exhausted. “You still at work?”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

There was a pause. “You give off the workaholic vibe.”

You smiled to yourself; at least he was okay enough to crack jokes. “How are you?”

“You mean am I grieving over a goddamn dead woman who preferred meth to her own fucking son?” He sighed. “No big loss. I’m fine.”

Anger and hurt saturated his voice despite his attempts to sound unaffected. Your heart hurt for him, you wished there was something you could do. “Do you need anything?”

“The funeral service is tomorrow.” A beat of silence followed. “Do you want to come?”

“Sure. What time?”

“2pm.”

“I’ll take the day off. Do you need my help with anything? Maybe I can call some of her friends?”

“When I found her she was living on the streets, barely alive but still hooked on meth. I doubt she’s got any friends.”

“What about the people in the nursing home? Maybe they want to come?”

“No, I don’t want anyone else there. Just you.”

Not liking the warmth that spread through you upon hearing his words, you reminded yourself he was probably feeling unusually vulnerable. This wasn’t typical of him.

“Do you want to come over?” he asked.

You exhaled a heavy sigh. “I would but I have so much work to do. I’ll be here for another hour at least.”

“Come over after you’re done.”

“It’ll be really late.”

“That’s fine. I can wait.”

“I can stop by my place to pick up your mom’s-.”

“No, it’s okay.”

You realized he wasn’t quite ready to go through Carla’s belongings yet.

“Bring your stuff with you.”

“Stuff?”

“Overnight bag, clothes for tomorrow, whatever.”

“Oh. You want me to stay over?”

“Yeah, might as well. We can drive over together for the service tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Despite the conversation coming to a natural end, he wasn’t hanging up. It seemed as if he was reluctant to be alone, probably because that meant dealing with the complicated emotions for his mother. You knew exactly how that felt. “If you want, I can leave now. I can work from your apartment instead of the office.”

“You’re not worried I’ll be tempted to spy on Valiant stuff?” he teased.

You smiled. “As if I’d let you see what I’m working on.”

“Guess no corporate espionage for me tonight.”

“Still going to keep you away from my laptop.”

He chuckled. “Just get here. I promise not to bug you while you work.”

“Okay. I’m leaving now.”

“See you soon.”

After you hung up, you started gathering your things together.

***

An hour later, you were at his place. When he opened the door, you immediately grew concerned at how tired he looked. Traveling back and forth from Vegas plus dealing with the news about Carla’s death within the last few hours meant he was absolutely exhausted.

“Hey,” he greeted you, smiling as he took the overnight bag from your hands.

You removed your heels while he took your bag inside his room and then made your way to his living room. While his penthouse suite was much bigger than yours, you actually didn’t like it very much. Despite the high-end finishes and the beautiful interiors - Billy had obviously hired a designer to make the place look good - it always felt very cool and inhospitable to you. It was too perfect and you always felt out of place inside the suite.

“You hungry?” he asked, coming up behind you. “I ordered dinner for you.” Arms encircling your waist, he dropped a kiss on the back of your head as he maneuvered you to the kitchen. He’d laid out the food for you on the dining table, and from the take-out containers you knew it was from one of your favourite Indian restaurants. The thoughtful gesture surprised you, you weren’t used to that from him. Noting that he’d only set the table for one, you turned around to look at him. “You’re not going to eat with me?”

“I ate already. I was starving. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” You cradled his face with one hand, your eyes roving over his beautiful face as he placed a kiss on the fleshy part of your palm. “You look exhausted. Did you even sleep?”

“No” He leaned back against the kitchen counter, weary. For a moment he closed his eyes, simply holding still, and you found yourself wrapping your arms around him in a hug. You didn’t understand why you’d even initiated the embrace – hugs were never your thing – but seeing him so beaten-down you were desperate to comfort him. He leaned into you, his body flushed against yours, and you held him tight. Stroking the nape of his neck, you placed a soft kiss on the center of his forehead. “Why don’t you take a nap while I work?”

“You don’t mind?”

You smiled up at him, running your fingers through his hair. “At least I don’t have to worry about you stealing my company secrets while you sleep.”

He smirked. “You’ll be here when I wake up?”

“Yup. Probably still working away.”

Billy grazed your temple softly before dropping a tender kiss on the tip of your nose. “Okay, but eat first.”

You nodded your head, watching after him as he sauntered out of the kitchen and disappeared down the hallway.

Sighing, you went to the sink to wash your hands before eating.

***

It was after midnight and you were still working on your slide deck when you heard Billy puttering around in the bathroom. Soon he slowly made his way towards you, dressed in a t-shirt and black boxers, his hair all messy. He yawned lazily, falling onto the other end of the couch.

“I thought you’d sleep through the night,” you remarked.

“Are you still working?” he asked.

“Almost done.” You saved the file and shut off the laptop before slipping it back inside your bag.

Suddenly he pulled you closer and you found yourself tucked underneath him on the couch as he glanced down at you from above. “You work too hard.”

You smiled up at him. “They don’t pay me the big bucks to sit there and look pretty.”

A slow, incandescent smile curved his lips. “I would. If I ran Valiant, you’d be my personal stress relief. You’d be in my office the entire time and do nothing but look pretty and service me.”

“That’s sexual harassment.”

Billy shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever. I’d make it worth your while.”

You laughed, angling up to kiss him. “Your breath is all minty fresh.”

“I brushed my teeth for you.”

“Wow. Be still my heart.”

A warm grin covered his face as he shifted down your body to nuzzle your neck. His weight was heavy as he rested atop you, but you liked the solid feel of him on you, the way you felt all safe and warm. You stroked his hair while he drew lazy circles on your chest, the silence between you two comforting.

“No one knows about her. Not Frank, not Curtis, no one.”

Those names were familiar to you because Billy had mentioned them in passing a few times. Of course he’d never shared any other info, but you being you, you’d dug around and found out more about them. You knew they’d served with Billy and he considered them his closest friends.

“When I found her three years ago, I put her in that home and forgot all about her.”

“You visited her every week,” you reminded him.

“Because I wanted her to regret abandoning me. I wanted her to see how far I’d come, I wanted to throw her mistakes in her face. But I don’t think she regretted safe-havening me, not even a bit.”

The bitter pain in his voice made your heart hurt for him.

“Maybe I should be happy she’s finally dead, or maybe I’m supposed to be sad or something.”

“How do you actually feel?”

“Nothing. I feel nothing.”

“Billy, I think that’s normal. There’s no right or wrong in this. All of your feelings are valid.”

“Even if her dying made me absolutely ecstatic? You wouldn’t think I was a fucking psychopath?”

“You are a psychopath but not because you have conflicting emotions about your terrible mother dying. You have the right to feel how you feel about her, whatever that might be.”

Eyes blazing with emotion, he hovered about you to meet your gaze. “Then what makes me a psychopath?”

You quirked your eyebrow. “The fact you want to torture my dates.”

“Not just torture, I want to kill them.” Eyes darkened, voice velvety-smooth, he covered your mouth with his and ravaged you with a kiss that left you thrumming and breathless.

“Only you’re allowed to touch me?” you asked through labored breaths.

“Yes.” His voice was a lustful rasp, his mouth leaving a heated trail as he sucked on the oh-so-sensitive corner of where your neck and shoulder intersected. Sparks of electricity ran down your spine. “Only me.”

You took his hand and guided it down your body, parting your thighs for him.

Like always, you were soon completely lost in the erotic pleasure of his mouth on you. Your legs hooked over his shoulders, your hands grabbed the back of the couch for support as he fucked you with his hands and mouth, sucking you, licking you, his tongue flicking over your clit until you were keening under him. Body arching off the couch, you moaned his name louder and louder until he drove you completely over the edge.

Then you felt a light slap on your cunt which immediately brought you back to reality. Opening your eyes, you found Billy perched between your legs, gracing you with the most wicked smile. “That’s one.” He slapped your pussy again, this time his long, lean fingers ever so slightly grazing your clit and your hips bucked, wanting more. “As promised.” His eyebrow quirked up. “Punishment.”

“Not fair,” you protested. “I’ll date who I want.”

He slapped you again, a little harder this time, but then he leaned down to place comforting kisses on the very spots he assaulted and you moaned with pleasure.

“All of you.” His tongue lapped over your clit, eyes locked with yours. “Belongs to me. I own you.”

“You don’t!” You squealed when he flipped you over unexpectedly, grabbing you by the hips so your ass was lifted of the couch. And then he squeezed your butt cheeks, biting them lightly before he started rimming you.

***

After sharing a shower the two of you were laying in his bed, your back pressed against his chest as you both stared up at the ceiling. His one hand was intertwined with yours, the other arm circled around your hips. The two of you didn’t have sex but you didn’t mind. You were both fatigued.

“I smell like you now,” you murmured, realizing the soap in his shower had left its scent on you.

“I know. I like it.” He squeezed your fingers. “I have a present for you.”

“I hope it’s not earrings again.”

He chuckled. “No, not earrings.”

“What is it then?”

“Jewelry.”

You turned back to look at him. “What? Like a necklace?”

“Something like that. Except I’m the only one who’ll see you wearing it.”

“Ah. And where is this gift?”

He kissed the top of your head. “Not here yet.”

You smiled to yourself. “People usually wait until they have the gift in hand before telling others about it.”

“I couldn’t wait. I’m excited to see you wear it.”

He stroked your hair, and your eyes grew heavy. Soon you started falling into deep slumber, feeling calm, comforted by Billy’s arms around you.

“What happened with your family?”

Your eyes flew open. Like always, any mention of your family unfurled anxiety within you. You didn’t like thinking about them letting alone discussing them. “They passed away.”

“They’re dead?”

“Yes.”

“Both of them?”

“Yes.”

He pulled you up so you were facing him now, his intoxicating gaze completely focused on you. “That day when I asked you about the pictures, you said you weren’t close to your family.”

“I meant my extended family. I don’t keep in touch with them,” you replied smoothly.

“What were your parents like?”

Irritation surged through you at his obtrusive questions but you had to remind yourself he just lost his mother. He was feeling out-of-sorts, working through his grief – even if he didn’t think so – and he was reaching out to the only person in his life that knew about his mother. “Normal.”

He simply stared at you for a long time, studying you, saying nothing. “Normal,” he repeated, finally breaking the strained silence.

You shrugged your shoulders, dropping your gaze to the base of his throat so you didn’t have to hold his piercing stare. “Yup.”

“How did they die?”

“Car accident.”

“You miss them?”

“Of course,” you lied.

He reached out to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. “So you grew up with great parents, white picket fence and all that bullshit? Sounds like you had a fairytale childhood.”

“Can we talk about this tomorrow? I’m really tired.”

“Sure. I’ll add this to the list of all the other shit we’ll talk about someday.”

He sounded almost angry with you and you weren’t sure why. Before you could question him, however, he pulled you close so you were snuggled against his chest and the warmth of his body was enough to silence your brain and lull you to sleep.

***

It was a cold, crisp autumn day in New York. The outdoor service, attended by only you and Billy, was short and quick. Throughout it, he’d gripped your hand even though he’d been outwardly calm and collected. Even now as he stood a few feet away from you, impeccably dressed in a black suit, his dark eyes hidden behind a pair of aviator sunglasses as he stared out at the pond, you sensed he was a complete mess inside. You didn’t know what to say to him so you simply sat on the bench, both of you in an isolated corner of the garden. Eventually he came to sit beside you, taking your hand in his.

“I’d have given her the whole world.” His voice was filled with pain and longing as he removed his sunglasses and tucked them in the upper pocket of his suit. “I would have given her anything she ever wanted.” Billy’s eyes met yours. “If she’d just wanted me.”

You scooted closer to wrap your arms around him, breathing him in as he sunk into you. His hands caressed your back, his grip on you so tight you almost couldn’t breathe. After a while he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes holding you prisoner in front of him.

“Swear to me you’ll never leave.”

“Billy-”

“Promise me!”

“I can’t.”

“It wasn’t a fucking request, Y/N.”

You tried to pull away from him but he fisted the back of your hair, holding you in place.

The raw urgency in his voice played havoc with your emotions. If you closed your eyes, just for a moment, you could shut out all the doubts in your head and simply believe him - but you could only live the fantasy for a short moment before reality forced its way back in. “You don’t mean those words, Billy.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you don’t feel that strongly about me.”

His eyes narrowed, glaring at you with hostility. “You’re gonna tell me how I feel?”

“I’m not what you want.”

“And what do you think I want?”

You gave him a sad smile. “The best of everything. Best car, best clothes, the most beautiful women in your arms. You want all that because you need others to want what you have.”

“Is that so wrong?”

You shook your head. “No, there’s nothing wrong with that – except I don’t fit into any of those categories. You want a woman like Dinah Madani. I’m not her. So eventually this thing between us will end.”

His jaw was set in a grim line, eyes burning bright with rage. “So you have me all figured out, huh?”

“Don’t get mad. You know it’s the truth.”

He yanked you closer, crushing you against him. “It’s been me against the world for as long as I can remember. But when I look at you.” His eyes softened, mouth parting as his dark gaze roamed over your face. “I don’t feel alone anymore.”

Your heart melted. The tenuous handle you had on your self-control disintegrated completely. You closed your mouth over his, kissing him frantically as he picked you up and straddled you across his lap.

He pulled back to look at you. “You’re my home. You’re all I need.”

Part 14

A/N - As always, all of your feedback, comments, asks, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated. They truly inspire me to keep writing, so thank you from the bottom of my heart.

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[yukidragon]

Our Life Mini Moment - Birthday Present

It’s Cove Holden’s birthday! I would be remiss if I did nothing to celebrate it considering how much I love Our Life: Beginnings & Always by @gb-patch​. I hope you all enjoy this little slice of Jamie celebrating Cove’s 19th birthday with lots of sugar, spice, and everything nice.

And by spice I mean this might be a little more suggestive than the game, so be aware of that.

...

Cove sighed softly once the door was closed after the final guest left his apartment. His dad had lingered the longest of all the guests, offering to help clean up, but he gently turned down the offer. The party had run late into the night and he was far too tired to even think about doing any cleaning. He’d just handle it tomorrow.

It was still his birthday for at least another hour after all.

Besides, Cove wasn’t ready to get rid of the evidence of the fantastic birthday party Jamie set up for him just yet. He took a moment to just admire it all, basking in the warmth of the day he just had with so many people who cared so much about him. Jamie had gone all out for him, decorating the living room with streamers, seashell decorations, and a large banner drawn in what he suspected was crayon wishing him a happy birthday. He wondered if there was room to keep the banner, if not, he at least wanted to keep the part of it that had the cute caricature of him that she drew.

The thoughtful presents Cove received from friends and family rested on the coffee table, surrounded in the tattered remains of the wrapping paper that housed them. The floor was covered in the confetti everyone threw when he entered the room, some of which he was sure was still stuck in his hair. Dirty dishes stacked high in the kitchen sink, soaking away the remnants of the delicious dinner and dessert served at the party.

The only things that had been put away was the food, but Cove felt a bit tempted to get another slice of his birthday cake. The fruity ice cream cake Jamie made just for him was just too delicious to resist another serving. He practically ate half of the cake by itself, and he knew the guests had taken a good chunk out of it as well, but he was pretty sure there was at least a slice or two left.

Thoughts of his fiancée brought Cove to a pause halfway to the kitchen. He scanned the space around him again, realizing that Jamie disappeared at some point while he was seeing his dad out. He noticed the door to their bedroom was closed and guessed that was where she went. The siren call of cake was no match for his desire to spend some alone time with his partner, and he immediately made an about face.

Cove lightly rapped on the door, slow with long pauses in between. “Jamie?”

The muffled sound of Jamie’s laughter came from within, though it was quickly stifled. “You don’t have to knock, Cove. You can just come in, you know.”

Cove blushed, once more reminded of the dynamic he and Jamie shared now. Their living situation was still new, so it was easy for him to slip back into familiar old habits - if Jamie was in her bedroom with the door closed then it was only polite to knock. However, this wasn’t her childhood home, this was their home and their bedroom. He shook off his embarrassment, took a deep breath, and boldly entered their room.

Cove froze as soon as he saw Jamie seated on their bed, and it took a moment for him to process the sight in front of him. In the brief time they had been apart, she changed her clothes for bed, but it certainly wasn’t meant to be slept in. Translucent aquamarine lace adorned in ribbon and patterned with intricate flowers barely covered her body, offering tantalizing hints of her more delicate areas.

Jamie flashed Cove a smile as she saw his jaw drop, and she stretched out her leg to display the matching lacy anklets she now wore. “Surprise,” she practically purred, her voice heavy with promises. “I have one last present for you to unwrap.”

For a moment, Cove could only work his mouth until finally something finally fell out. “I… you…”

Jamie’s smile grew even wider and she took a moment to savor Cove’s reaction before she finally giggled softly. “You can enjoy it while it’s still wrapped too.” She bent forward towards him, giving her fiance a good look at how much cleavage her new negligee displayed. “You can do wh - at - ev - er you want~”

Finally, Cove managed to get his brain working again despite how much blood had traveled to his cheeks and the lower half of his body. His heart pounded hard with excitement that chased away all of his fatigue as his mouth quivered in a wobbly smile and a breathy, nervous chuckle escaped him. “You really do spoil me.”

“You’re worth it,” Jamie said, her voice soft with sincerity, before the smolder returned to her gaze. “Now come here and get your present.”

Cove didn’t need any further prompting.

[landinoandco]

A Game of Chess

Carlos Sainz x reader

Request from @leesuhnakamoto-krys "Carlos Sainz x reader fluff"

Warnings: fluff, a slight reference if you squint.

Word count: 2.2 k

Requests are open :)

This year - due to the current pandemic - there were to be two races in Austria, however to keep with the theme of ‘no two races the same’ they were to be called different things: the Styrian grand prix for the first race and the Austrian Grand Prix for the second. This weekend saw the first of the two and your boyfriend Carlos Sainz finished a respectable 6th place behind his former teammate and current best friend Lando Norris. 

The majority of the grid had decided to stay in the surrounding area, making the most of the time they had - not only to keep on training but to explore. 

Travelling the world with Carlos was a dream come true and you were so lucky to be able to do your job on the move - you were a travel blogger/vlogger and were pretty well known for it as well. A large following of people that enjoyed watching your weekly lifestyle and travel vlogs alongside the photography that came with it. 

It was the Monday following the race so Carlos had taken it as a rest day, you had woken up that morning in his arms, tracing circles on one of them as you both spoke about your plans for the day. 

“And a haircut is what I really need.” He said to you, as you moved a strand that had fallen into his eyes. 

“No, I like it long, you look more -” You paused. “Mature.” Giggling, you moved your hands up to run your fingers through his hair. He shook his head at you, a large smile plastered onto his face. He leaned forward onto his forearms, connecting your lips together for a brief second before pulling away and rolling out of bed. Leaving you, still huddled in all of the covers, watching him as he strode across the room to the hotel chest of drawers, pulling out two t-shirts; one of which he put on and the other being chucked in your general direction. 

“So, cariño, what is your plan for today?” Carlos asked, flopping onto the bed and looking up to you.

“I think I’m going to go and explore the town, some of my followers have recommended a few places so I think I am going to check those out, take a few photos-” You trailed off as he began to draw patterns onto the palm of your hand. You smiled fondly at him, you had met just before lockdown completely by chance after you bumped into him in a train station. He had asked for your number and feeling like he had given you no reason to say no, you did and as it turns out, it was the best decision of your life. “What is your plan for the day ahead, mi Amor.” 

“I think I am meeting Lando this afternoon at a café down the road. I’m going to teach him to play chess.” He said proudly, emphasising the word ‘chess.’ 

“Chess?” You questioned, reaching over for the top and putting it on. It was one of his old team McLaren t-shirts, you scoffed at his still apparent loyalty to the team; admittedly it was your favourite but Ferrari didn’t need to know that. 

“Yes.” Carlos stated, he then pointed at the t-shirt you were wearing. “I would recommend not leaving the hotel room with that t-shirt on. I don’t want to get into trouble.” He fought to keep the smile off of his lips. Your eyes lit up, “I wouldn’t even dream of it, mi Amor.”

You had agreed with Carlos that as soon as you had finished what you had set out to do that morning, you would meet him in the café alongside Lando. “Do you fancy playing a game of chess with me, later?” You had asked before you went your separate ways. 

Carlos gave a lopsided grin and kissed your forehead. “We will see, cariño, we will see.” With that he stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked down the street. Styria was a beautiful town, a handful of buildings situated in the mass of rolling hills and mountain tops that covered the landscape for as far as the eye could see. 

You had walked up to a stone viewing point at the peak of the town, a small bench that overlooked the south past Styria and into the Austrian countryside.

You loved this time you got to yourself, it allowed for you to sit and reminisce; bathing in all of the memories that lead up to this point in your life. You thought back to the day Carlos asked you to move to Italy with him - due to him changing teams. It almost broke your relationship, the thought of leaving all of your family and friends behind in England but in the end you decided it was an adventure too thrilling to pass on...

It was a breezy summer evening in London, the clouds had blanketed the city and a faint rumble of the traffic could be heard from your apartment. Carlos had messaged you earlier that day, asking if he could talk to you when he got home - for the remainder of that afternoon nerves had settled comfortably in the pit of your stomach. At last you heard the unlocking of the door, your head whipped around to see a tired looking Carlos to fall through the door with a sigh. As soon as he looked up and saw you sat on the sofa, his eyes gleamed. “Mi amor.” He said tiredly, his brows knitted momentarily before he nodded his head. “Right, my text message.” You nodded unsure of where this conversation was heading. It was early days in your relationship so anything was possible. 

“I got an offer from Ferrari-” He started, making his way over to you, you watched him intently, nibbling on your lower lip. “It’s an offer that in this industry you don’t turn down, obviously there is a lot to consider because it would mean leaving McLaren and-” He sighed, “This country behind.” 

A line appeared between your brows, you didn’t speak for fear of interrupting his train of thought. He took your hand in his. 

“If I signed with Ferrari, I would have to move to Italy-” Your mouth made an ‘o’ shape. “Which is why I wanted to ask you if you would come with me.” 

You definitely didn’t expect him to ask this, any expression that was on your face before had been wiped as you took to staring. “I’m asking a big thing and obviously you don’t have to answer straight away.” He rushed in response to your dumbfounded expression. 

For the next few days - after that conversation - the atmosphere between the pair of you had become tense, you had decided to call your sister and explained the whole situation to her. In a nutshell she called you an idiot for not saying yes immediately.  

“I’ve been thinking-” You began to Carlos that evening . “I would love to move to Italy with you. It’s a good opportunity to really write our story, explore the world - together. It will be such a great adventure.” Carlos didn’t need to ask you twice and he enveloped you into his arms and span you around, meeting your lips with his. 

“I love you.” He said, placing his forehead on yours. That night was also the first time those three words were exchanged. “I love you too.” You replied sweetly, your lips brushing his as you did so. 

You smiled fondly at the memory. You were so lucky to have found Carlos - actually you found each other - you like to believe that it was the universe who had a hand in it. Carlos was your soulmate and you were honoured to be able to call him that. 

Deciding it was time you made your way back to him, you started on your journey back to the main town - down the steep, winding path, birds darting overhead and the chirp of crickets sounding in the hedgerows. 

You reached the café and as soon as you opened the door, you were hit with the smell of warm coffee, you went over to the counter and ordered yourself a latte - casting your gaze around the old fashioned shop, you were surprised to see that only a few people were sitting inside; an older couple, who had taken extreme interest in the pair you were here to see. You chuckled to yourself as the barista placed your drink onto the counter in front of you. 

“Drew quite the crowd earlier.” He leant over the counter, pointing to the pair, they were stuck in an intense game of chess and by the looks of it - Lando was winning. Carlos looked up, shaking his head as Lando moved another one of his pieces off of the board; as he did he noticed you standing there and waved you over. 

“Yes, I bet they did.” You chuckled, taking the drink and nodding ‘thanks’ to him. Carlos pulled a chair up for you and motioned to the chess board in anguish, “You will not believe it, mi Amor. He is beating me.” Lando was sat on the other side wearing a cocky grin and his arms crossed onto the table. 

“So what you are trying to tell me, Carli , is that you taught Lando too well and now he is beating you.” You pointed out, the corners of your eyes crinkled. Carlos only glared at you, sighing dramatically. Lando played incredibly well and did take the victory, punching his arms in the air as he called out ‘checkmate.’ 

“The student becomes the master.” He cheered, high fiving you and offered to shake Carlos’ hand but Carlos pouted and pushed it away with his index finger. “No. How on earth did you win? I’ve only just taught you.” He cried out. 

You looked at Lando as Lando looked at you, both fighting the urge to laugh. You couldn’t hold it in as you held onto the table - both doubling over. 

“I love you, Carli, I really do but - boy - are you a sore loser.” You managed to say. 

“Well, cheers, mate.” Lando said getting up, wiping the tears from the corner of his eyes. “I’m going to head off now. Dinner with Jon.” You waved as he left, fist bumping Carlos on his way past. 

“Do you fancy a game with me now?” You asked, your elbow was resting on the table so you leant on the heel of your palm. 

“On one condition.” Carlos said, setting the chess board back up, “As long as you promise not to beat me like Lando just did.” 

“Of course, mi Amor.” You said, a hint of mocking in your tone. You admired the way he scrunched up his nose as he concentrated, working out what his first move was going to be. 

“The aim of chess is to be in control of your opponent, you want to be able to trick them into doing exactly what you want them to do.” Carlos said, moving his first piece. “You have to play with dominance.” He added theatrically. 

“You want me to be dominant?” You repeated incredulously, a smirk toying with your lips. “Well, why didn’t you say so. After all this time-” 

“Mi Amor.” He gasped, lowering his voice. “Not like that -” He stammered, a pink flush rising up his neck. You only winked in reply and made your move. 

“Go on, tell me more about chess.” You urged him on, watching as he went to make his move. He paused, met your gaze and narrowed his eyes. You shrugged innocently and he carried on; his gaze softened as a reminiscent haze coated his eyes. 

“You know,” Carlos began, placing the chess piece down and resting both of his elbows onto the table. “When my dad first met my mum, he taught her how to play chess and they used to sit in the kitchen on a Sunday morning after church and play. It was then my mum who taught me, on the weekends when my dad was away racing; we used to sit in the kitchen together on a Sunday after church and play. It was always the highlight of my weekend.” You watched as he fondly spoke about his family, warmth filled your chest. 

“You teach me well then and maybe we could turn it into a tradition.” You spoke gently, reaching over the table to take his hand in yours. Awe transformed his face as he gazed at you. 

Many years later you would end up making it a tradition, as you taught your daughter how to play on a Sunday after church as she watched her daddy race. You would tell her the story every time you would go to play and every time you would think about how lucky you were to have bumped into that stranger in the train station. They say that you will find your soulmate when you least expect it and after all these years - you would have to agree. 

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Omg can I please get a hannibal x a shy girl reader ? Like he’s really possessive of her and she doesn’t know how to handle it but she likes him so they date??

Sorry this took so long, anon. I’ve been bouncing ideas around and this one in particular, I believe, fits your request. Y/n feels out of place among Hannibal’s fancy friends and it becomes even more obvious when he abandons her at a party. 

Trigger warnings: social anxiety, sexual harassment, overstimulation

You and Hannibal had an agreement about large gatherings. He could only bring you to a party if you had a week's notice and at least three uninterrupted hours of gaming time prior to the event.

For this event, you needed a solid six.

One of the major Maryland universities was awarding a lucrative research grant to a student of clinical psychology, and every influential name in the industry was expected to be there. As a recent college grad with a bachelor's in business you didn't know what to do with, you couldn't imagine a less welcoming environment if you tried. You couldn't fit into their world and more importantly, you didn't want to. But the thought of being noticeably different in any situation was twice as terrifying. So you spent the whole week repeating your mantra; blend in, be quiet and make it through the night.

But Hannibal had different plans for you.

Halfway through the week, just when you'd pushed the party out of your mind, Hannibal presented you with a gift.

"What's the occasion?" You asked. You hoped that if you pretended not to know, it would just magically go away.

"I brought you something to wear on Friday." Hannibal answered, hanging the garment bag up on the bureau. "You know I'll take any excuse to dress you up."

He unzipped the bag and placed a black silk dress into your arms. "Try it on so I have time to get it altered if it needs it."

The material was cool to the touch and outlined your figure so perfectly, you felt even a little naked. Hannibal, of course, loved this. You were his own personal Venus de Milo. His goddess and his muse. 

“Yes, that will do nicely.” He observed, looking at you hungrily. 

“Seems a little short for a such a sophisticated event, doesn’t it?” You raised an eyebrow. The answer was yes and he knew it. He was very deliberate in everything he did. “I don’t want to come off the wrong way.” 

“And what way would that be, darling?” He asked, not taking his eyes off your figure. 

“I mean--” You searched for the right words. “It’s a gathering of the Mid-Atlantic’s most esteemed academics, I feel like, in a dress like this, I might be seen as, well, a...” 

“A prostitute?” Hannibal finished, choosing a much nicer word than you would have.

You looked down. “Yeah. It just doesn’t seem all that appropriate.” 

Hannibal approached you and lifted your chin slightly to look into his eyes. “Many Christian denominations believe that Mary Magdalene was a prostitute, yet she was Christ’s right-hand woman. She was first to see him crucified and first to witness his resurrection.” 

“Dr. Lecter,” You smirked. “I never would have taken you for a religious man.” 

“Goodness, no.” He shook his head. “But any reputable academic is expected to be familiar with biblical literature and its many contradictions and impossibilities.” 

“What does that have to do with me?”

“You are my divine feminine, Miss [L/N].” Hannibal said in a low whisper. “And I want everyone to see it. If they see a common whore, it would only be a reflection of their own jealousy.” 

Hannibal's rationalization almost made you forget about your fear of being noticed. Almost. It all came rushing back when you arrived at the event. Not one person your age was in attendance. The women wore long, flowing evening gowns that reached the floor. The length of your skirt alone guaranteed that all eyes were on you. In a simple black silk dress, you looked the very model of high society. Silk was a sign of luxury, and Hannibal wanted everyone to know that you were a woman of means. His woman, to be precise. That was why he brought you to these functions in the first place. To put you in a dress short enough for any wandering eyes so see the smattering of love bites running up your inner thighs. He wanted everyone in his field to know that you were completely and entirely his.

You realized too late that this was all his little exercise in showing you off.

Everyone seemed to know him. He only knew a handful of people by name, and you didn't know anyone.

"And who is this delightful young woman?" A woman with a light southern twang in her voice asked, looking at you as if you were a caged animal on display.

"I wasn't aware you had a daughter, Dr. Lecter." The young man beside her laughed. "Or is she your side piece?"

Your eyes scanned the room for the nearest exit. It would be unbecoming to make a scene, so you plotted a way to slip out quietly.

“Darling, meet Dr. Charlotte Ramset and her TA, David.” Hannibal introduced, notably ignoring the young man. “Dr. Ramset, this is my intended, [F/N] [L/N].”

"I didn't realize she was also a ventriloquist!" The lady, presumably Dr. Ramset, joked. You'd heard that one a million times. She looked at you. "Tell me about yourself, sweetie. What are you studying?"

The lady was old enough to be your grandmother and reeked of too much perfume.

"I graduated last year." You said, quietly. "With a BA in business."

"See, there's a good woman." David added. "Only speaks when spoken to. They don't make ’em like you anymore, baby."

Hannibal tightened his grip on your hand. "On the contrary, David. See, Miss [L/N] is quite a bit like myself. She only dignifies those she deems worthy with a response. There's nothing wrong with being selective."

The lady laughed at David's expense and smiled at you. "Good for you."

You smiled back just a little, not ready to bring your guard down yet. "I've had to deal with more than enough. It's best not to engage."

"Oh, I know, I know." The lady said, shaking her head. "That's how it is for us educated gals. Always having to put up with pigs. See, I went to college in the sixties, so I can tell you some real stories."

This was a new experience. Talking to Hannibal's friends and having them listen to you was something you never considered possible. Now, you were one of the educated gals. You were just about to strike up a conversation with this woman, when the man next to her decided someone desperately needed to play devil’s advocate.

“I find that sexist, actually.” He cut in. “Not all men are pigs.” 

The silence following his comment was deafening and you wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Whatever progress Hannibal and Dr. Ramset made breaking down your defenses was completely reversed and you were ready to retreat.

Dr. Ramset took a long sip of wine and adjusted her shawl. “David, none of us said anything about men, you drew that conclusion yourself.”

“I mean, look at you.” David gestured to your dress. You knew exactly where this was going and you wished you could just disappear. “You’re basically asking for it.” 

Dr. Ramset glared at him. “David, that’s enough.” 

“I’m just stating facts.” David crossed his arms. “If you dress like a slut, what do you expect?”

Dr. Ramset and Hannibal seemed to have an entire conversation through prolonged eye contact before one of them broke the silence. 

"Charlotte, I hate to have to excuse myself so soon, but the president of the university is expecting me." Hannibal said, dropping your hand. Your heart hit the floor when you realized that he would be throwing you to the wolves.

"Of course, Dr. Lecter." She nodded. "Duty calls."

"I trust you'll keep an eye on my beloved [F/N] in my absence?" His voice hardened. The severity in his tone frightened you.

Dr. Ramset didn't seem disturbed or even surprised in the slightest by his gently threatening demand. "Of course."

"Thank you. And [F/N]?" He said, pressing his lips to the back of your hand. "I won't be going far. Please, try to have fun."

You tried not to look affronted, but you were going to have a long talk with Hannibal when you got home. 

"I'm just saying what everyone is thinking." David continued, his inability to take a hint positively astounding. "Why don't you respect yourself enough to cover up, [F/N]? You have a boyfriend!"

Your eyes scrolled across the room looking for any sign of Hannibal, but he was gone. Dr. Ramset finished her wine and stared at her TA with the resigned disgust of a death row jailer.

"Any other thoughts?" She said, snatching a fresh glass of wine. You looked at her with a clear expression of discomfort.

"Come on, do you see any other woman in the room dressed so provocatively?" David's voice broke mid-sentence. "No. Because they're educated enough to know that real men don't care about their bodies."

The hotel clerk approached the group. "Mr. Hosmer, there's a call for you."

David narrowed his eyes. "Uh, what?"

"Someone is on the phone asking for you." The clerk repeated. "Says it's an emergency."

David shrugged. "Fine."

Just when you thought you would be rid of him, at least for a moment, he planted his hands on your hips in attempt to "get by" you. His touch was like that of an insect crawling across your skin; unexpected, filthy and leaving you squeamish.

"I'm so sorry about that." Dr. Ramset's words echoed in your ears, but you didn't really hear them. You were too focused on grounding yourself to process what she was saying. 

“Dr. Ramset?” You said, quietly. “Which one is the president of the university?” 

She glanced at a tall woman in a dark blue suit, surrounded by equally important looking businesspeople. You followed her eyes. “That’s Dr. Mary Hosmer.”

Your ounce of righteous fury was squelched in two seconds when the reality of having to talk to someone, especially someone of stature, set in. You looked sheepishly back at Dr. Ramset. 

“Could you please ask her where Hannibal went?” You whispered. “I’d really like him to take me home now.” 

Her face turned sympathetic. “Of course, [F/N]. Stay right there.” 

You nodded. “Thank you.” 

Dr. Ramset crossed the floor and politely greeted the president. You took a few slow, calculated steps closer, just to get in earshot.

“Pardon me, but, have you seen Dr. Hannibal Lecter?” Dr. Ramset said, casually. 

“I wasn’t aware Hannibal had even arrived yet.” The president answered. “I haven’t seen him.” 

Your eyes widened. You fought the urge to freeze, but you had to move back before Dr. Ramset knew you’d been eavesdropping. You heard everything you needed and rushed back to where she’d left you.

“Dr. Hosmer said he stepped out.” She told you upon her return. “He should be back soon.” 

You tried not to show that you knew she was lying. “...oh.” 

“Would you like me to stay with you until he comes back?” 

You knew you were completely on your own. You didn’t know what was going on, but you had an inkling that it had to do with the president and David sharing a last name. All you knew for certain was that you couldn’t trust anybody. 

“Don’t bother.” You shook your head. You took off for the door, but Dr. Ramset grabbed your wrist. 

“I’m sorry, [F/N].” Her voice dropped to a low whisper. She didn’t look mad, but afraid. “But Dr. Lecter told me to stay with you. Please. Don’t make this harder for me.”

You recalled how seriously threatening Hannibal’s request was. She wasn’t answering to the president of the university. She was answering to Hannibal. You didn’t know whether to be scared or relieved. 

“Right.” You conceded, stepping back in. “I’m sorry.” 

The actual award ceremony was much longer than it needed to be, and it dragged on even longer knowing there was no reason for you to be there. Other than that, you awkwardly followed Dr. Ramset around the party like a lost puppy the whole time. You were back to your original plan: blend in, be quiet and make it through the night. 

Just when you thought the party would never end, someone tapped you on the arm. You turned around, hoping with every fiber of your being that it was Hannibal, but it wasn’t. A tall woman in a dark blue suit stared back at you. 

“I’m sorry to bother you, miss.” She said, apologetically. “But have you seen my son? I saw him talking to you and Dr. Charlotte earlier, perhaps he told you where he was going?” 

You’d pushed that man completely out of your mind. You shook your head. “He left to take a phone call and I haven’t seen him since.” 

A hand found your shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Hosmer, but I believe I saw the boy on his phone out in the lobby.” 

“Dr. Lecter!” The president’s eyes widened. “How nice of you to finally join us.” 

“...Yes, I believe he left right after making unwarranted comments towards my intended here.” Hannibal ran his hand down your arm lovingly. 

“Well, boys will be boys.” The president chuckled. “Maybe you should teach your girlfriend not to wear such revealing clothes.” 

Hannibal smiled and pulled you in protectively. “Whatever the case, I hope you find him very soon.” 

Her phone chimed in her back pocket. “Oh, that’s him right now.” 

“Wonderful.” Hannibal said. “[F/N] and I will be taking our leave.” 

He hurried you towards the door, his hand tight around yours. A blood-curdling scream came from behind you. You looked back for just a moment and found the president hollering in pain and falling to her knees. 

“Let’s go, darling.” Hannibal tugged at your arm. “They don’t deserve your presence.” 

“Hannibal, I swear.” You said, once you were in the safety of the car. “If you killed every man who looked at me like a piece of meat, sooner or later, there won’t be any men left.” 

Hannibal smirked and reached for his seatbelt. “Wonderful.” 

[cinebration]

None Like You (Geralt x Reader) [Request]

hi! can you do a geralt one shot with fem reader where she's a princess and they start falling for each other? tysm! — Request by anon

Warnings: blood

Gif Source: frodo-sam

Your mother had raised you to believe you were someone of importance, but life on the farm had said otherwise. You toiled just like everyone else, bleeding and sweating. You were soiled, not spoiled. Yet your mother insisted you were a princess and told you outrageous bedtime stories to lull you to sleep in your youth.

You should have paid better attention.

When King Henselt’s only son died, leaving only a marriage and no heirs, you woke one morning to the pounding of a mailed fist on the door. Your mother answered and then hurried into your room, fluttering about like a mad woman.

“It’s time,” she cried, shoving you into your best dress and raking her fingers through your hair.

“For what?”

“To be someone.”

Then she bundled you out the door into the arms of a military escort carrying the Kaedwan sigil on their shields and tunics: a red-horned unicorn on a yellow field.

It took you the whole day to finally coax information out of your escort regarding the whole ordeal. When they told you what you were, you nearly fell out of your saddle in disbelief.

The king must be desperate, you thought as you tried to fall asleep beside the campfire.

Then the night turned bloody.

~~

Something crunched underfoot to your right. You huddled deeper in the hollowed tree, clutching the steel in your hands. The edges had sliced open your palms, but you didn’t care. It afforded you some protection, even if the creature had snapped the blade it came from like a twig.

Tensing, you waited for the sound to draw nearer, coiling to spring. It was just like killing chickens, you told yourself. One neat slice to the throat.

You leapt out of the hollow, slashing up and across.

The witcher caught your wrist easily, flinging the steel out of your hand. Stifling a cry, you cradled the injured hand to your chest, backed away from him. His eerie yellow eyes tracked you as you pressed yourself against the tree trunk, searching for an escape.

“What happened?” His voice rasped like feet dragged over gravel.

“Death,” you whispered, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the massacre. “Some…thing.”

“It’s dead now.”

You fixed him with a wary glance. “Truly?”

He grunted.

You nearly sank to your knees in relief. Pressing a hand to your mouth, you felt the cuts in your hand spasm. Fresh blood wept from the slashes, trickling down your arms. The witcher swept his gaze over you, eyeing the wounds. You fumbled with the hem of your dress, trying to rip the dirty fabric into strips.

“Did you fight it?” The surprise in the witcher’s voice drew your ear.

You wheezed. “I slashed it, yes, but fight? No.”

Rummaging around in the leaves on the forest floor, the witcher retrieved the broken steel, examined it. He swore.

Unease coiled within you. “What is it?”

“Come here.”

You hesitated. The witcher rolled his eyes and strode over to you, grabbing you by the wrist. His touch was firm but not tight, much to your surprise. You followed after him, feeling a little dizzy as he led you over to the road. A horse stood idly there, kind eyes inquisitive. It didn’t shy away as you drew near despite the smell of blood.

“Good horse,” you murmured, appraising it.

The witcher fumbled through a saddlebag, searching for something. At last he pulled out a vial and took your hands, tearing off the strips to get to your wounds. He poured the grey contents of the vial out before you could protest.

You nearly screamed, the pain in your hands was so excruciating. Lighting shot up your arms as the vial’s contents fizzed on your palms and in your wounds.

“To prevent the venom from killing you,” the witcher explained.

“If the pain doesn’t kill me first,” you hissed through gritted teeth.

A smirk tugged on the witcher’s lips, followed quickly by a frown. “What were you doing traveling with those soldiers?”

You hesitated again. What had you heard about witchers? That they fought for coin and hunted monsters. You had no coin, but neither did you know where you were or how to get home.

“King Henselt sent them,” you confided slowly. “They believe I am his bastard daughter.”

“A princess.”

You elected to ignore the mild groan in the man’s voice. “Can you take me home? The farm, not Aed Carraigh.”

His yellow eyes fixed on you again, white eyebrows beetling together. “You don’t want to go to the castle?”

“Is it safe? As safe as home?”

His lips pressed into a thin line.

“Then take me home,” you insisted. “I’m no princess.”

~~

The witcher smelled. You couldn’t ignore it, not with your face pressed into his back. He wasn’t made for traveling with someone sitting behind him. You could feel it in the tension of his shoulders and back, as though he couldn’t relax beneath the touch of your arms. You did your best to relax your own tense grasp.

You had run nigh over a mile before collapsing in the hollowed tree trunk. The horse covered the distance easily, passing by the smoldering, bloody encampment you had settled down in the night before. You watched it pass, glimpsing the heaps of bodies scattered about.

It took several hours to draw near home. Joy fluttered in your chest as you approached.

You crested the ridge overlooking home and went still, horror rolling through you. The farm house was ash and rubble, still smoking. The animals had been let from their pens, taken for livestock by whatever had rolled through the farm.

“Bandits,” the witcher noted.

Fighting nausea, you wandered down to the burnt house, searching in the ruins. The ash burned your hands and legs, but you sifted through it, yanking aside a crumbling beam.

Beneath lay your mother. What was left of her.

You retched off to the side, stumbling through the ash. You stood bent at the waist for an eternity before you felt the witcher watching you. Turning to face him, you wiped the sick from your chin. “I can’t stay here.”

He frowned.

Your mother had raised a practical woman, fantastic fantasies about your lineage aside. It was all you could think to do as you stood in the ashes of your dead life. One foot in front of the other.

“I have no money,” you confessed, “but if King Henselt sent for me, he can pay you to ensure my arrival.”

The witcher considered it. At last he growled and nodded.

~~

It would take four days to reach Aed Carraigh. The horse—named Roach, you learned—could only manage that distance in a shorter time if not burdened with two riders.

You sat close to the campfire, warming yourself in the flames, shaking not from cold but from fear as the night closed in around you. The night held terrors untold, but until the night before, you had never seen them in the flesh. Knowing they lingered out in the dark set your teeth on edge.

“I’m sorry to burden you,” you told the witcher, the silence too much to bear. You watched the horse warily for signs of attack, knowing the animal was likely to hear or sense it before you.

“Why don’t you want to be a princess?”

Taken aback by the unexpected question, you shrugged. “Why would I want to be one?”

“Riches. A comfortable life.”

“I had a comfortable life with riches untold. They just weren’t gold.”

“Gold is necessary.”

“Gold means nothing if your life is miserable.”

The words hung heavy in the air. The witcher averted his gaze, surprising you. Frowning, you rubbed at your arms, trying to make the hair on your arms stand down. His averted face gave you the opportunity to study his features. They were rough and worn, his brow creased from excessive glowering. He was all hard edges, a larger man than even the largest farmer you had seen. He appeared both comfortable and uncomfortable in his own skin, or perhaps your presence was upsetting him.

“Am I keeping you from work?”

“Are you always so concerned for witchers?”

You shook your head. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“Yet there you sit.”

You bit your tongue, surprised by the sting of his barb. Something flickered across his stern features as you ducked your head. “Then tell me where to go and I will get there myself.”

“The road is dangerous.”

“Being a woman is dangerous.”

He almost smiled in surprise. You could see it dancing on his lips.

“So tell me where to go,” you insisted. “Then I can leave your remarkable hair.”

His eyebrows twitched. The silence stretched between you both for a minute, the fire crackling in the quiet. At last, he said, “I will take you.”

You almost gave away your relief with a sharp exhale.

~~

Though the witcher was a man of few words, you found you were able to read more from his face and the set of his shoulders than from anything he said. His silences were full of information, though you couldn’t be sure of what exactly. You merely knew that he radiated safety as much as he did danger.

“Do you know many princesses?” you asked him.

He grunted.

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“I know one or two,” he said. “But none like you.”

You frowned, glancing down at your soiled dress. “Yes, I suppose I’m nothing like one. The people will be overjoyed with a farmer’s daughter.” You snorted.

“I think they could use one.”

Frowning, you glanced up at him. He didn’t quite smile, but the glower on his face had shifted into something softer.

“Well, when I am princess,” you said, “I will remember at least one person believes me suited for the job. That’s all that matters.”

A faint smile touched the witcher’s lips. You matched it with a slow smile of your own.

[chickenscript]

Could you write a scenario for each of the turtles where they sneak into to a hospital through the window and visit the reader who is staying the night after they broke their arm?

A/N: i feel like i could've wrote this funnier but hope you enjoy!

Least to say, you weren't expecting any visitors when you ended up bedridden in the hospital.

Well, it wasn't all that serious really. You got a bone fracture in your arm after a little skateboarding incident but, the doctors wanted to keep you overnight for observation and to help ease you through those first hours of sheer pain.

Back on topic though- you wondered why you didn't think that you wouldn't see any familiar faces pop by during your stay considering the company you kept.

And by that you meant they would 100% be the type to break into a hospital just to visit you.

Leo: - You honestly thought he would've tried to sneak in dressed as a nurse knowing Leo and his ideas.

- But no, this time around he had snuck in through your window and did so, so stealthily that he nearly gave you a heart attack when he cropped up right next to your face sudden.

- Thankfully you realized it was him before you could let out a scream that would've alerted a nurse or doctor.

- You laughed the fright off and he took a seat on your bed next to you.

- He started off idle chatter about how you were feeling and the specifics of how you ended up here, and you enjoyed the company as much as you knew he should've waited until you left tomorrow for his own sake.

- You couldn't not appreciate that he had come to check on you.

- You're not sure that you had known anyone before the turtles that would've found a way into your hospital room after visiting hours to make sure you were absolutely okay themselves.

- You made sure to let Leo know that too.

- He smiled sheepishly and ruffled your hair; he'd break into a hospital any day for you. You were one of his best friends after all. (Of which the turtles only had you and April).

- The sentiment made you snort and you smiled back at your goofy friend with a giggely thank you.

- You wouldn't have it any other way.

- Regardless, you had to admit that he probably should've left for the lair before the morning rolled in instead of staying so long into the night getting caught up in nighttime conversation with you that he wound up passing out like you did.

- He had to narrowly avoid being caught by the staff and you tried not to bust out laughing at his "timely escape".

- Which was Leo having to scramble out off the bottom of your bed where he'd sprawled out on so he could launch himself out the window when the nurse came to tell you that you were ready to be discharged.

- The sound of a yowling cat as he landed in the dumpster outside didn't help your case either.

Donnie:

- You...you weren't expecting the impromptu doctor costume.

- Or for him to immediately start out his sudden visit by prodding at your cast the second he was done clambering through your room window.

- Donnie insisted he just wanted to check on the sturdiness of it, but you still had to swat him away so he wouldn't fuss over it.

- With a sigh, you let your arm fall back across your stomach. You didn't have to ask to know why he was here because you had a good guess already.

- You invited the turtle to sit on your hospital bed and after hesitating for a moment, he plopped down.

- He cleared his throat and asked you how you were feeling.

- You smiled and told him that they were giving you plenty of painkillers, Dr. Dee. It wasn't a gnarly break, so you were lucky in that regard and didn't need any heavy duty treatment.

- Donnie nodded with closed eyes and folded arms.

- He told you everyone was worried about you and you poked his bicep, telling him to tell them that you definitely weren't dying or anything.

- Donnie looked down at you and poked you in the nose, telling you that a broken arm still wasn't anything to laugh about.

- You wriggled your nose with a puff. You knew that but you also knew that you would be able to recover just fine.

- Even though Donnie didn't show it like his brothers would've, you knew he had come all this way to make sure you were getting treated properly. (Even though you certainly were).

- After his fussing, you and Donnie played a few rounds of Mario Kart on his switch while chatting. You were sure he was going easy on you because of your arm but you didn't say anything about it because well, who could ever complain about winning?

- When you wrapped up, you let him sign his name in an almost obnoxious purple that glinted neon in the dark on your cast and he told you not to break anything else.

- You laughed and replied that you didn't plan on it.

- The answer seemed to be good enough for him as he left and after the nurse came to turn out your lights for you, you laid back in your bed and stared for a long while at the glow in the dark signature on your bum arm before falling asleep.

Mikey:

- You had to shush him the moment he launched onto your hospital bed.

- He was immediately poking and prodding at you, and asking about whether or not your arm still hurt.

- You laughed softly and shook your head. You reassured him you were doing much better compared to earlier.

- Mikey was happy to hear about that, settling down a bit and sitting down.

- He asked if he could touch your cast and you gave a nod.

- He touched it very gently, wrinkling his snout at the coarse feeling texture of it under his fingertips.

- Then he looked up at your face and asked the question you knew he was probably waiting to since he got there.

- You gave another soft laugh and said yes, he could sign your cast.

- With a wide smile he whipped out some markers he was carrying with him and got work scribbling on your cast.

- You quickly got the feeling that his "signature" was going to be much more elaborate than just that.

- And you weren't wrong as he spent the better part of an hour, chatting with you as he drew.

- Truthfully, you hadn't been able to get to bed at all before Mikey dropped by and having him here was nicer than tossing and turning, waiting to fall asleep.

- Eventually, he's done and you're amazed by the graffiti style doodle now on the corner of your cast.

- Mikey beamed at the look on your face and asked you what you thought. To which you were quick to say it looked amazing.

- You ended up having a chat about art and you two did some doodling in one of your notebooks before he had to go back to the lair so you could call it a night.

- He wished you a goodnight and you promised to be over the next day to spend some time with your favorite turtles, and when you let your head rest on your pillow, sleep found you much easier than you thought it would before Mikey got there.

Raph:

- You were surprised a herd of staff didn't rush to your room as he had to all but force himself through the window and knocked over an IV pole and those little carts that held nurse supplies.

- Of course, a sweet little nurse did pop in to see if you were alright and you told her that a strong breeze must have done it all.

- She bought the story and Raph, who had ducked under your bed and raised it a good foot or two higher, crawled out.

- He asked you how you were doing and whatnot, and you waved off his worries.

- Still, he didn't seem very sated by the look on his face.

- You reached out with your good arm and gave him a pat on his. - In truth, Raph felt bad that he nor his brothers could've been there to prevent your injury; as stupid as that might sound.

- And he seemed to think you would laugh at him as he admitted that to you.

- You didn't think it sounded stupid in the slightest though. A lot of people feel that way when it comes to people they care about, you reassured him.

- You felt the same every time the turtles had altercations with the villainy lurking in New York.

- That seemed to work and you were glad to shake some worry off of Raph's big ole shoulders. He had enough of that while trying to lead the gaggle of turtle brothers.

- You patted the side of your bed and almost regretted the gesture when it groaned in agony at Raph's mass.

- You tried to laugh it off, hoping internally that the bed would turn out okay. You were just happy that it was holding up for now. But, you were surprised that Raph didn't notice the potential problem.

- You two spent a while just idly chatting and Raph recanted the brothers' recent encounter with some villains last night. You eagerly listened and enthused about it alongside the behemoth of a snapping turtle whose giddiness about things always reminded you he was truly a softie.

- After some hours, he got around to leaving once he signed your cast in big, blunt red letters and the hang out session made you feel like you really did have friends looking out for your more than you realized before.

[scarasimplysimping]

Run Away

Scaramouche x GNReader

Sypnosis: Scaramouche remembers the time you invited him to elope with you.

Angst?

How young you both were. Naive, impulsive, and reckless. You both wouldn't last a day on your own. Scaramouche was sure to have made the right choice in rejecting you. At least, this is what he tells himself to ease the budding regret at the back of his head.

It was so vivid. The dark haired boy tried not to think about it; He really did yet he always found his thoughts trailing back to that night in his free time. It would've been a beautiful memory had it's circumstances not been so tragic.

The midnight before he became a harbringer, Scaramouche was perched on the terrace of his home with his head resting on his palm, counting the stars with a displeased and bored look.

"Scaramouche, Scaramouche, let down your hair!" The soon-to-be harbringer hears your voice from below.

His whole form perked up instantly as he ran to the railings of the terrace and sure enough, you were down there, grinning ever so mischievously.

"Quiet, you moron! Someone will hear you!" He shouts back, attempting to sound uninterested but the small curve at the corner of his lips gave away his true emotions.

You stare up at his form, illuminated by the moon. How majestic and alluring. Careful now, it would be embarrassing if he caught you drooling over him in his pajamas.

Gathering your thoughts, you start to climb your way to him. Scaramouche could only look at you with an amused expression.

"I have a ladder y,know." He says nonchalantly.

"Is it for climbing when you want to kiss me? Cause... Yknow. You're short." You joke, not bothering to look up knowing he was probably glaring holes into you by now.

"I am tempted to throw it at you sometimes."

One last step and you were sat on the railings, your faces, inches away from each other. Neither of you dare say a word that could ruin the moment for a few seconds. Perhaps both of you were trying to engrave this somewhat romantic scene into your vault of memories.

Something about his pretty purple eyes drew you in so you take this opportunity to steal a quick kiss from his lips.

Scaramouche feels the heat rising to his cheeks as he huffs in surprise. Trying to find words but ultimately failing.

"So... sixth harbringer, huh?" You start as you leap off from the railings and land closer to him.

He takes a step back to regain his composure. Going back to the bored expression he had earlier. It was clear that he didn't want to talk about this.

"Yes. Well, would you suggest someone more worthy for the title than I?" Scaramouche says rhetorically in an arrogant tone.

"Do you want it though?" You ask, leaning on the railings, with your back facing him.

You couldn't see him but you could tell he hesitated to answer. And that one split second of hesitation was enough for you to muster up your courage.

"Run away with me." You say sternly, turning to him again so you could take in his expression.

Scaramouche feels his heart beating faster in his chest, he's almost afraid you might hear it.

He chuckles nervously in response, not sure if you were joking or being serious. "Don't be stupid. You can't just waltz your way out of here."

You shake your head, glad that he was actually considering it. "Just say the word. I promise you I'll handle everything."

So you weren't joking. Still, Scaramouche wouldn't follow through with something so ridiculous and unprepared. "We've never even set foot outside of Snezhnaya."

You continue to press. "I've read enough books. Seen enough maps. We'll work it out!"

Your eyes glow with eagerness and hope, Scaramouche could almost feel himself falling more in love with you more than he already was... not almost. He actually was.

The dark haired boy starts to contemplate more on the idea of starting a whole new life with you.

"We could travel all across Teyvat." He says subconsciously.

You interlace your fingers with his, thinking you both were really gonna do this.

"Maybe settle down in Monstadt." You suggest.

"The city of freedom." He adds, locking eyes with you.

"Just a normal couple doing normal couple things." You smile, and in turn that makes him smile.

Scaramouche lays his head on your shoulder. Thinking about the beautiful future you both could have together, worrying not of combat training or fatui business. Growing old, maybe even having children, then grandchildren. Dreams of an amazing future together.

But dreams remain dreams.

You both snap out of it when you hear a knock at the door.

All of the sudden, you're back to reality and he still was gonna become a harbringer tomorrow and you're still going to lose him.

"Sir, the Tsaritsa would like to have a word." The voice at the other side of the door calls. A fatui agent.

You find a place to hide for a bit as he rudely shoos off the poor man.

Once the uninvited guest was gone, you give him a sneaky back-hug, with the hopes that the plans were still on.

"I can't." Scaramouche says in a defeated tone.

You're eyebrows furrow, slowly you let go of him. "Of course you can! Just pack a few bags and we'll be off before dusk."

"No. No one has ever went against the Tsaritsa's will and lived to tell the tale." Scaramouche states.

"You won't be going against her! Just moving away from her." You try convincing him in a shaky voice.

"No. (Y/N), listen to me. Even if we did leave we have nothing to feed ourselves. No money, no family, no authority-"

"Authority? Is that why you want to stay so bad? Because of your little power fantasy?" You retorted, later regretting it as you see the hurt in his face.

The expression quickly turns into anger. "How dare you even accuse me of that. Who do you think you are!?"

"Well I thought I was your lover."

You both stare each other down as the room's atmosphere grows heavier.

It pained him to fight with you and fights were never this serious. And Scaramouche was scared that one more persuasive sentence from you would cause him to give in, follow his heart, sweep you of your feet, and be on your way to springvale by tomorrow.

So he said what he thought he had to say, "Lover? You're just a fling. Give me a break. You're a fool if you really thought whatever we had was going anywhere." It broke his heart to lie but Scaramouche was great at hiding his sadness, or rather, disguising it with anger.

After all, you continuing to be with him as he was a harbringer would put your life in peril. He was doing the right thing... but then why did it feel so wrong?

You feel tears running down your cheeks but you still refused to believe him. How well you could see through him. Or so you hope. "You're lying."

He turns his back to you for fear of his own tears giving him away.

Scaramouche lets out a forced groan. Out of desperation, he lists things he hates about you. Personal things he didn't actually hate but had to pretend he hated. His voice laced with venom and anger, not towards you but rather the Fatui, the Tsaritsa, even the whole of Snezhnaya and it's damn snow for putting the both of you in this situation.

"-I hate that you think you can read me. I hate it when you try acting all lovey dovey with me it's disgusting. And I hate you for making me want to just kiss you right now and forget about everything but us." He lets the last part slip.

Silence

Scaramouche turns to you. You're not there. Not anymore.

Filled with regret, he runs to the railings and tries to search for you but not a trace. Not a damn trace of you and it seems you took his heart with you too.

That was the last time he saw you. Scaramouche can't help but sigh sharply everytime he recalls that night. But he treasures it. He treasures every moment he spent with you and promised to himself that when all of this is over, he will find you again and you'll finally run away, hand in hand.