#the same way someone might look at a finished painting and not know the hours of work behind it

[quietwingsinthesky]

You really have no idea how long it takes to make a podfic until you do it yourself

[knoxic]

Cycle of Greed

Azriel x Reader | p1 - p2 - p3 - p4 - p5 - p6

summary: Azriel suspects Elain is his mate, reader is ignored, Rhysand and Cass are protective of reader

wc: 2,3k

warnings: Azriel... self hatred, insecurities

a/n: reader's nickname is Ace but there's no physical descriptions

It started subtly, coming home and not noticing her boyfriend's absence, too tired to notice, waking up to a cold and empty bed, brushing past it thinking Az must have been busy, even though he never mentioned anything. The first time you noticed he wasn't, it hit you like a slap to the face.

A family dinner was scheduled tonight, even though you had dinner with your family all the time, tonight was the only night of the month no one was allowed to miss. Rhysand made sure all of you would be free.

You had woken up early today, before the sun had risen, Azriel not being in bed with you didn't seem weird at all, Az often left the bed before the sun was up, he had trouble sleeping and once he woke it was hard to go back to sleep. After spending some time reading in bed you decided to make breakfast, after washing up you went downstairs, expecting to see containers of food left in the sink but there was none, so either Azriel hadn't eaten when he got home or he didn't come home at all. But again, she brushed it off, he probably had a good reason for it.

After eating breakfast, you went to change into your training clothes, just because it was an off day didn't mean you should skip training. Normally, you used a punching bag to literally beat your stress away but today you weren't even stressed, there wasn't even someone to keep you entertained, so training ended up being just boring.

Again, you came back to an empty home, no signs of your boyfriend. After a few minutes of staring at the walls you decided that perhaps a few hours in Velaris would be exciting, maybe you would visit Feyre's gallery. Walking through the streets is definitely a nice thing, the people passing by know who you are and what you do but still gave you friendly smiles. Watching the children play freely and unbothered made you wonder if, someday, your own children would be doing the same, little Illyrians terrorizing the streets of Velaris.

"Hey! Wasn't expecting you here today." Feyre's voice snapped you out of your daydream.

"Well, I'd rather spend hours looking at your paintings than the blank walls at home." You laughed.

"If that's the case then come with me, I just finished a new one." She slipped her arm through yours and pulled you further into the gallery. Fortunately for your boredom, Feyre had kept you busy the whole day, showing you her new artworks and even making you paint with her.

Hours later you were finally coming home, your feet screamed at you to sit down but you refused to winnow, not wanting to miss out on any new place that might have opened. You were so tired that your mind wasn't anywhere near Azriel, fully focused on resting as soon as you reached home. You only realized you had fallen asleep when the front door banged closed, your boyfriend's scent filling your nose.

"Az?" You sat up rubbing your tense neck, the couch, as comfortable as it was, was not meant for sleeping.

"Yeah, didn't know you were here." He seemed confused and... angry?

"Are you okay?" You slowly made your way towards him but he stepped back, turning towards the stairs.

"Fine, I'll go wash up for dinner, don't follow me." And with that he ran up. You took his anger as the result of his work, figuring that something had probably stressed him out.

Your eyes that were still foggy from sleep had finally cleared, allowing you to notice how dark the living room was, it was already night and you had probably slept for a couple hours. When you went up to bathe, you heard a loud bang from your bedroom. Azriel often isolated himself as to not take his anger out on anyone close to him, so you continued walking towards the guest bedroom, washing up in the adjoined bathroom. Only when you were finished did you make your way to your bedroom, the door was fully closed so you opened it carefully, the bathroom door was left open so Azriel was probably downstairs. You dressed up unhurried, taking the time to choose your clothes, fixing your hair and choosing shoes. When you went down, Azriel was nowhere to be seen, you called out to him but received no response, perhaps Rhys had called him?

'Rhys, is Azriel with you?' You asked, praying he would hear you.

'Yes, he said he thought you wouldn't come." Rhys answered, his voice oddly quiet, without its usual confidence. 'Are you two okay?'

'I– Yes? Well, I think so? Did he say anything?' Not once had it crossed your mind that your relationship was the cause of Azriel's stress, were you stressing him? If so, why didn't he say anything?

'Never mind. Are you coming?' Suddenly you weren't sure if you should, maybe Az had gone alone because he didn't want you there. 'Please come...'

Rhys pleaded, scaring you even more. Rhysand never pleaded.

'I don't know,' you were still standing in the middle of the living room, you could just winnow, but would your boyfriend want that? 'Maybe I should stay home tonight–'

'No. It's family dinner, fuck Azriel's dramatic ass, I don't know what's wrong with him but it's not your fault. You're coming, even if I have to go pick you up myself.'

𓂃

"My office, now." Rhysand's growl seemed to vibrate through his bones.

"Rhys–"

"No! Azriel." He walked out of the room, leaving Azriel to stare at his back, Elain kept gazing at him wide eyed. 'Come with me or I'll come to your girl, your choice.' His mind talons not bothering to make a gentle appearance.

Azriel left without looking back, still feeling Elain's gentle gaze following him. His heartbeat ringed in his ear, time seemed to pass by slowly as he walked the corridors to Rhys' office, darkness consuming the corners of every wall. The doors were left open showing his brother's back facing him, as soon as he entered they banged closed, before he said anything, Cassian winnowed beside him.

"What's wrong?" Cassian looked at them both, his hurried voice echoing through the silent room.

"Azriel was kissing Elain." Rhys turned to look at them both, giving Cassian a nod towards Az, his arms crossed against his chest while he leaned against the desk.

"I didn't–"

"You were going to!" Rhysand spat, making Azriel shut his mouth, he couldn't deny it.

"Wait–" Cassian stepped forward, watching as Az lowered his head, gasping when he realized it was true, "No fucking way! Did Ace break up with you?" Azriel's only response was a deep sigh.

"No, she didn't." Rhys answered for him.

"Brother..." Cassian's hand met Az' shoulder, "Why?" He was pissed but needed to know why Azriel was acting like that.

"I think–"

"Huh, you're not even sure." Rhys scoffed, shaking his head.

"I think Elain is my mate."

"What? Az, that's really serious..." Cass spoke softly, almost unsure. "Are you sure?"

"I– No, but it just makes sense!"

"How, Azriel?" Rhysand yelled, stepping closer to him. "How does it make sense? You've known Ace for centuries, been dating her for 80 years, you live with her! I swear I thought you were going to propose to her soon!" His hand met Azriel's sholder, shaking him. Rhys sighed, dropping his head and shoving Az away before turning back to sit on his chair.

"Az," Cassian started, "Does Ace know?"

"No, I don't know how to tell her." Az muttered the last part.

"You'll have to find a way. I don't know why you think Elain is your mate and not her but she deserves to know. Having a mate doesn't necessarily mean you two should be romantically involved, nor should you be anything at all, but it is clear that you're attracted to Elain and that's just... unacceptable."

"Why?" Azriel said exasperated, "Three brothers for three sisters, it just makes sense!" He yelled,banging his hands on Rhysand's desk.

"Are you insane?" Rhys yelled back, standing up from his chair. "You are in a relationship, Azriel! It doesn't matter if it makes sense, be responsible, she's not just a fling you had, you can't push her aside just because your cock gets hard around a pretty female. Ace is your girlfriend, has been for almost a century, the possibility of another female being your mate should not interfere in your relationship with her, it didn't have to. Elain could end up being just a great friend, or even better, Ace could be your mate..."

"If she was my mate, don't you think it would've snapped by now?" Azriel's question didn't really sound like a question.

"Is that all you heard from everything Rhys said?" Cassian looked incredulous.

"Azriel..." Rhysand's patient was slipping away. "I do not know what to say to make you understand–"

"There's nothing to understand, Elain is my mate and I want to be with her."

"Then fucking break up with Ace first!" Darkness crawling their way around them.

"What the fuck, brother?" Cassian yelled, for the first time that morning. "Didn't you learn anything from Mor leading you on all those centuries? You want to be with Elain? Fine, but break up with your girlfriend first. Just know that there's a lot in line here..." Silence enveloped the three of them, tension sitting heavy on their shoulders.

"Leave, go talk to Ace and fix this shit," Rhysand rubbed his temples, "Don't do to her what has been done to you."

𓂃

Azriel spent a few hours flying above Velaris, trying to forget about what had happened, he didn't know what he did wrong or why Rhysand was so upset. He decided to come back and talk with Elain first, then he'd talk with you, but Rhysand's talons scratched his mind walls as soon as he saw her, telling him to stay away from her until he broke up with you. When he got home he was so upset that you were the only thing keeping him from his possible mate, that when he saw you, he would definitely take his anger out on you. You were so relaxed and he was completely the opposite of that, your eyes puffy from sleep while his were bloodshot from the lack of it.

He couldn't stop the sudden hatred that consumed him at hearing your voice, he wasn't sure if it was directed at you or him, he spend the whole day resenting you while you were here worried about him. He couldn't stand the sound of your comforting voice, not while comparing it to Elain's, your eyes searching for his with so much love and he wondered when was the last time he really stared into them.

So he ignored you, he wasn't sure what he had answered you, his whole body aching with stress that he just wanted some form of release. Release that never came, he thought that by the time he finished bathing he'd feel better, but he didn't. Nothing seemed to work, the warm water did nothing to help soothe his muscles, and no matter how much he scratched, he still felt dirty.

Stepping out of the bathroom only angered him further, your scent still lingered even after hours of leaving the bed. Azriel didn't know what he'd do if you talked to him again, didn't know what he'd tell you, if he lied you would know, and if he didn't... you would be hurt.

𓂃

As soon as your eyes focused on the house, you wanted to winnow back home, but Rhys didn't give you a chance to do so. The front door being yanked open made you tear your eyes from the window, where you could see silhouette with wings, the smile your High Lord greeted you with was comforting. He was loyal to his brothers, if you had done something to upset Azriel, he wouldn't be smiling at you like that.

"You came!" He waved his hand, calling you inside.

"Someone threatened me." He laughed at your attempted joke, no humor filling your voice. As you walked closer to him, he pulled you into a hug, it didn't really seem like it was for you, his chin rested on your shoulder like you weren't almost half his size, it was comforting nonetheless. An exaggerated gasp pulled you away from each other's embrace.

"That's like the worse form of betrayal!" Cassian cried out, his hand that was resting on his chest reached out to push Rhysand away. "We could've had a family hug but you were selfish." His strong arms engulfing you into an embrace, lifting you off the ground, he let out a dramatic groan as if it had taken him so much effort to do so.

"Stop it, you're going to squeeze her." Rhys laughed, tapping his brothers shoulder.

"Jealous." Cassian whispered in your ear, making you giggle.

By the time Cassian set you back down, you had forgotten you were worried, if that was Rhysand's intention when he came to greet you at the door, it had worked. You were pulled inside by the hand, Cass gushing about all the things there were for dinner, his groovy voice muffling out a female giggle. The table was set only a few minutes after Cassian had sat her down, his conversation topics never ending. The first time she saw Azriel, he was coming out of the kitchen, right after Elain.

"She needed help with the dessert." Nesta muttered, her voice filled with something she couldn't exactly place. She couldn't dwell on it further, Azriel was looking at her now, his feet glued to the ground. It was clear he really wasn't expecting her to come.

[slvt4buffw0men1111]

Assistance

Pt. 3, Pt. 2, Pt. 1

18+

Smut under cut.

Cw: daddy kink, slight degradation, overstimulation, choking, manhandling, rough sex

The rest of the week flew by. Sevika and you not interacting as much as you would like to due to all the cases her and Silco have to finish before the work week was over. You had about 3 hours left of work and you were making sure all the scheduling was correct for next week when you saw someone walk up to the desk in your peripheral. 

“You ready for the banquet tomorrow?”, you here Sevika say. She was leaning on the counter her arms straining against her blazer, her biceps on display. 

“Mhm almost I just need to find a dress, I’ll have to go tomorrow morning I haven't had much time this week to go look.”, you reply. 

“Just take the rest of the day off we have no more clients coming and the mall is gonna be packed in the morning.” 

“You’re not serious, are you?”, you say not believing her. 

“I am serious and here, take the company card to get yourself something real nice. Want my date looking better than anyone in that room.”, she said getting out her wallet. 

“Date? Thought I was your plus one.” 

“Date, plus one, same thing, I just want you looking your best, even though you look astonishing in anything. Right?”, she smirked. 

You couldn't say anything. 

 *Why is she so bold?!* 

“I'll tell Silco you're heading out and I'll text you details for the banquet in the morning.” 

“Ok Thank you.”, you get up and start gathering your stuff. 

“And I mean it, buy something nice, treat yourself, the card has no limit.” 

That’s how you found yourself at the mall at some dress shop. A very expensive one might I add. You picked up a price tag $649.99. 

*HOLY SHIT* 

You felt sick just touching something that expensive, but she did say no limits right, and to treat myself... 

You wander around the store some more trying to touch the dresses as least as possible worried the oils on your fingertips would ruin the delicate fabrics. And that when you saw it a long silk Burgandy dress. It was strapless and had heart shape neckline, with a sexy slit running up the leg. It was perfect. 

You obviously had to try it on before buying something with that price and it seemed even more perfect on. Accentuating all your curves and making your cleavage pop. You bought the dress not daring to look at the price tag. And made your way out the mall, before another store caught your eyes. 

VICTORIA’S SECRET 

Might as well get a new set to match your new dress. You decided on a black lace bandeau with a silk trim and red rose in the middle. A long with the matching panties that had a triangle cut out right above the ass. You bought the set with your card not wanting to push your limits and also not wanting finance department to see what you bought. You arrived home and got ready for bed. You couldn't sleep you had a shaking feeling inside, that feeling when you know something excited is happening the next day.  

It was the next afternoon, Sevika texted you letting you know she’ll be there to pick you up at 6pm, that gave you 7 hours to get ready. First you went to get a mani-pedi you haven't had one in ages and you really wanted to pamper yourself for your “date” with your sexy boss.  

You got home did a quick face mask and took a shower before starting on your hair and makeup. The makeup was natural with a bolder eyeliner, your lips painted a similar hue of your dress. Which you paired with some gold jewelry. (Or silver) 

You were slipping on a pair of black kitten heels when you heard a knock on your door.  

*She's early* 

“One second!”, you yell out while grabbing your clutch purse and lipstick.  

You opened the door expecting to see Sevika but instead saw an older man. 

“Y/n L//n, is that you?”, he asked looking down at his phone. 

“Yes?” 

“Ms. Verma sent me to pick you up as she is caught up with something at the moment but she will meet you at the Banquet Hall.", he explained. He led you down your apartment halls out to a black range rover opening the door for you.  

The drive was silent, you didn’t know if you should be mad, she wasn’t picking you up or flattered she sent such a nice car to pick you up. You made it to the banquet hall and saw Sevika outside the entrance doors. She looked noiceee. She was wearing a simple and classy all black tux that seemed to make her look even taller and intimidating than before.  

The valet opened the door for you and you made your way towards Sevika. When she spotted you, she couldn't seem to take her eyes off of you. Her eyes made you even more nervous than before.  

“Good to see you made it safely, Y/n, you look beautiful.”, she said clearly checking you out. 

“Thank you Sevika, as do you.” 

She held out her arm for you to grab as you both made your way into the banquet. There was lots of people all dresses in their best pearls and furs. You suddenly felt underdressed and underage. Everyone seemed to be Sevika's age or older. The older mean giving you look that made you want to cover yourself with a blanket. This didn’t go unnoticed by Sevika as she pulled you closer as you made you to your table. That so gracefully pulled the chair out for you.  

This was lot more boring than you thought. Hours of hearing mediocre jokes that you had choice to laugh at and food that tasted like straight up hospital food in ridiculously small portions. You were ready to go. 

“I’m gonna go wash up I’ll be back.”, you said quietly enough that just Sevika heard you. Which she didn't even seem too. 

You went to the bathroom and sat on your phone for a minute before washing your hands and exit the restroom to head back to boring festivities of the night. 

“Hello there young lady, you look very sexy tonight.”, said an old man who looked like he touched children. Ew.  

“Ha thank you.”, you blankly reply trying to walk past him. He grabbed on your arm to keep from going and you felt his old wrinkly yet moist hand.  

“Excuse me!” 

“You're not excused why don't you come to my table and chat for a while pretty.” 

“Shes not interested, you can let of go of her.” 

*Oh thank god* 

Sevika came standing next to you looking at the man like she was seconds away from killing him. Without another word the old man left as fast his stubby legs would let him. 

“I’m so sorry, are you ok?”, she asked facing you. 

“Ya I'm find just grossed out.” 

“I'm sorry, I should've came with you, these men here aren’t used to seeing such women, should've known they would try something. I can hurt him if you want me too.”, she said with eyes of rage and caring. 

“No Sev I’m fine thank you, I'm just glad you got here when you did.” 

She smiled at the nickname that came out your lips.  

“You wanna get out of here?” 

“I would like that.”, you said grabbing you clutch from her hand. She wrapped her arm around your waist as she said her goodbyes and walked you to her car. A nice sleek black Porsche 911.  

You guys drove in silence for a while until Sevika finally spoke up. 

“You want to come to my place, for a drink, you can say no I don’t mind”, she blabbered on. 

“That sounds fine to me.” 

The tension in the car seemed to rise more after that. You couldn’t stop staring at the way the veins in her hand protruded. You really wondered what those hands could do. 

You made to a gate and Sevika pressed a button in her car that opened it and there you saw the most gorgeous and huge house ever. You knew she had money but lawd, the car should've given it away.  

The inside was just as lavish as the outside. It had a homey vibe to it yet modern.  

“What do you drink?”, she asked pulling out two glasses. Her blazer now off.  

“I'll just have whatever you have.”, you said still soaking up her home. 

She poured you some whiskey and made her way to chair next to you. 

“That was banquet was boring I know, you don’t have to lie.”, she said. 

“Ya it was boring, that guy trying to feel me up was probably the most exciting thing that happened. Except it was actually quite scary.”, you say sipping on your drink. 

“Ya I'm sorry about that, I’m gonna have to report his firm, but that means more clients for us.", she joked. 

“I at least got this nice dress out of it though.” 

“You really do look so gorgeous you know that dress makes you look even more sexy.”, she said her eyes on you. 

“Why do you do that?” 

“Do what?”, she said setting her glass down and putting her hand on your thigh. 

“That, you tease me.” 

“Don’t act like you don’t like it.”, she said her eyes staring into yours. 

Your breath hitch as she started getting closer to you. Her eyes looking at your eyes then to your lips. That’s all you needed to close the space between you and kiss her. The kiss started off slow and passionate, like she was savoring you. 

“I've been wanting kiss you since I first saw you.”, you said into between kisses. 

“I've been wanting to a lot more than kiss you baby.”, she grabs your waist and hoist you onto the kitchen island. Her hands all over you back and thighs as you grab her neck and pull closer into you. Her thigh slots in between your legs making you let out a small whimper as you grind against her. The kisses getting sloppier and hotter by second. She starts to kiss down you jaw and onto your neck that will definitely leave marks. Your breath getting heavier. 

“Fuck y/n can I take you upstairs?”, she asked still kissing your neck. 

“Yes please.”, you breathe out. 

Her room was so dark and organized, a huge California king bed sits in the middle.  

She set you down on the bed not breaking the kiss. Her knee back in between your legs, your panties are soaked at this point and you're sure there's a wet patch on her pants. 

“Sevi, I need you please?”, you whine. 

“Yea need me how? Use your words baby.” 

“Touch me, I need you to touch me.”, you grind deeper into her knee. 

She lifts you off you back so she can unzip your dress. She slides the red fabric down your body and she smirks at your lace covered breast and pussy.  

“Fuck baby you knew this was gonna happen did you, huh?” 

“mhm”, you whine. She takes both your breast in her and starts to grope at them. You let out more whines as she unclasps your bra letting your breast free. She takes one of your breasts into her mouth, sucking on your hardened nipple her tongue swirling around it. Her mechanical hand wrapped around you while her flesh hand plays with your other breast.  

Your grinding harder and harder on her leg you pussy leaking all over her. She feels you seeping through her pants. 

“Your pussy needs some attention, doesn't she?”. You don’t reply, too embarrassed to say anything.  

“Answer me.”, she commands her mouth leaving your body completely. 

“Mm please touch my pussy I need you.” 

“Good slut.”, her hand travels down your body and she basically tears the underwear off of you, assuring you she’ll buy you a new pair. 

“You’re so fucking wet for me.”, her finger slides along your slit pushing down on your clit. You let out a whimper before she slides one of thick fingers inside of you. 

“Oh my god Sev”, she slides the finger in and out a few times before adding in a second finger curling up into you really stretching you out.  

“God you're so tight, how are supposed to take my cock huh?”, she teases. You moan at her words and squirm on her fingers. 

She takes your pulsing clit into her mouth sucking on your bud and lightly grazing it with her teeth.  

“Fuck se-” all you can do is moan her tongue making patterns on your pussy while she fingers you. Your so wet with you spit and you slick she slides in a third finger. 

“Need to make sure you can take my cock baby.”, she said completely obliterating your tight hole. Your stomach starts to feel hot and your legs begin to shake. 

“I’m g-gonna cum”, you barely stutter out. 

“Yeah, come on my face.” 

You squirt all over you mouth and fingers she does her best to drink it all up slurping on your pussy, downright nasty sound coming from you and her. You start to feel overstimulated as she's still eating your pussy and licking you up. Her fingers still deliciously hitting your g-spot.

“Sev I can’t it's too much”, you try to push her away but she doesn't budge. Your thighs now trapping her head, but she just pushes your leg back down and stares into your eyes as you come a second time on her mouth. She finally pulls away and climbs back on top you pulling you into a sloppy kiss. You can taste yourself on her mouth. 

“You ready for my cock baby?”, she asked.  

“Yes, I want your dick in me please!” 

She stands up off the bed and walked towards her bathroom while removing her shirt. When she comes back out, she is naked with nothing but an 8inch strap harnessed to her hips. Not only is a long but it's also thick. Her body is better than you imagined rock hard abs, muscular thighs, and her arm so strong looks like she kill you with just one punch

“Don’t worry baby it'll fit.”, she said like she can read your mind. 

“Open your legs for me”, you immediately obey her opening up and putting your pussy on display. She gets in between your legs. She starts rubs the tip of the strap up and down you wet pussy.  

“Y’ so wet I don't need any lube baby.”.  

“Open up for me.”.  You comply and open up your mouth wide for her. She puts her middle and ring finger in your mouth and down your throat causing you to gag. She removes her fingers and wipes your spit on her cock jerking it off.  

“You ready baby?”, she asked leaning over you. 

“Mhm” 

“I need words baby.” 

“Yes, please just fuck me already!” 

She doesn’t wait a second longer before she puts her cock in you. You moan at the stretch of her thickness. She doesn’t wait; she bottoms out completely in you before pulling out and putting it back in. She starts fucking you slowly at first but doesn’t last long, she speeds up and you moan and whimper in pleasure. 

“Fuck daddy oh my g-” 

That where you messed up. She looks at you with pure animalistic intents. 

 She takes your legs and put them up to your chest, your basically folded in half as she starts to fuck you hard and fast. You can only scream in pleasure she’s so deep in you, you swear you can feel her in her stomach.  

“You're so deep daddy”, you can barely get it out. She grabs you by neck with her mechanical hand and starts to squeeze your neck, not enough to stop your breathing, but enough to make you feel woozy in the head.  

“You like daddy’s cock in your pussy huh, don’t you slut”, she growls in your ear. You nod your head as she continues to pound into your pussy. The sound of skin slapping and the wetness of your pussy fills the room. Your bodies radiating heat against each other. She feels your body stiffen up and your pussy tighten around her cock. She knows your gonna cum. She keeps her pace and starts to rub your clit. 

“Gonna come all over daddy’s cock like a good little slut.”, that’s all she needed to say. Your eyes roll to back of head and open your mouth wide as you scream out to her. Your body twitching as you leak around her cock.  

“Oh- fuck”,Sevika groans as her pace falters, she comes with a grunt and moans into your ear.   

She collapsed on top of you, her breathing heavy against your neck. She starts to kiss back up you neck and to your lips. You two kissed for a while until Sevika grabbed you by your waist and flipped you over. 

“I’m not done with you yet, ass up baby”, she spanked your ass. You arched your back putting your pussy on perfect display for her. 

“fuck”, Sevika muttered under breath. Seeing the way your ass was shaped and your (her) personal heaven in between your thighs. Her hand touch around you ass and down to you weeping hole. She lines her cock back up and thrust all 8 inches into you at once. You scream at the intrusion but she doesn't stop. She’s fucking you hard. Both hands on your hips as she pulls you deeper onto her cock. Your face smushed into the pillow, your moans and whines muffled.  

“Could fuck your pussy all day baby”, she grunts using her flesh hand spank you. The added pain just made you squeeze more around her dick. Your moans getting louder. Thank god you weren't at your apartment. She takes her mechanical hand back around your neck to pull you up, your back now against your chest. The angle making her impossibly deeper into you.  

The only sound leaving you lips were incoherent babbles and moans. Drool pools out of your mouth. You are officially drunk on her cock.  

“Uh-uh fuck Sevi”, you manage to get out. 

“You love the way daddy fucks your slutty pussy, don't you?” 

“Yes, daddy I love it”  

She looks down to where your two bodies connect. A thick white ring of cum at the base of her cock. It only makes her fuck you harder. The sound of her hips against your ass, your moans and her grunts, the way she has her hands feel on your body. It was all too much.  

“Be a good slut for daddy and rub your pretty clit and I'll let you cum”, you whine in protest. You don’t even think you have enough body strength left for that, but the urge to cum is stronger. You bring your hand down your pussy and start to rub fast tight circles on your clit. Only took 10 seconds until your twitching and cumming all over her dick. Your cum dripping down your thighs.  

She gently sets you down onto the bed knowing you couldn't hold yourself up. She slowly pulls out her strap that makes you wince in discomfort.  

“I’ll be right back baby”, she says before she disappears into her bathroom. She comes out with boxers on and in her hands a class of water, a rag, and a t shirt for you. She turns you over and gently cleans in between your legs with the warm damp rag while kissing your thighs. She then has you sit up so she can put the shirt on for you. 

“Drink some of this then you can sleep baby”, your eyes barley able to keep themselves open. She tilts your head back for you and you drink half the glass before you fall back into bed. Sevika climbs in next to you her arm on your stomach.  

“Goodnight y/n”, she whispers but you don’t hear her as your already fast asleep. 

You just fucked your boss. 

Lmk if you want me to continue this story<3

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

Love Bites: Part Two

A bookstore barista catches the attention of a vampire drawn to her scent, and everything changes when she invites him in.

Word Count: 7,906

Content warning: mentions of drinking blood and biting.

Part One

Morning sunlight filtered softly through the blinds, painting stripes of gold across the bedroom walls. Y/n stirred beneath the sheets, her body slowly adjusting to consciousness. It took her a moment to shake off the heaviness of sleep—and the lingering rush of last night’s memory.

She let out a small yawn and headed for the bathroom, flicking on the overhead light before grabbing her toothbrush. The usual morning routine felt almost surreal today. As she brushed her teeth, her mind drifted back to Harry: his midnight-green eyes, the cool feel of his lips, the firm press of his fangs…

She spat out the toothpaste and reached for the faucet, then paused. In the mirror, two faint puncture marks stood out on her neck—tiny, but undeniably there. Her heart gave a little flutter of recognition. Slowly, almost reverently, she lifted her free hand and brushed her fingers over the marks.

A wave of warmth flooded her chest, dissolving into something that bordered on pure euphoria. It was like reliving the moment he bit her, only this time she felt no fear or shock—just a pulse of lingering pleasure that made her knees feel weak. Even standing there in the bright, ordinary light of day, she could feel him.

After a few heartbeats, she lowered her hand, forcing herself to finish rinsing her mouth. Her thoughts were a jumble of curiosity and a strange, heady excitement. She wanted to see him again. Or maybe needed to see him. At the same time, her reflection reminded her that this was hardly normal—waking up with vampire bites that invoked a delicious thrill instead of terror.

Gently toweling off her face, she took one more glance in the mirror. The marks wouldn’t be obvious to anyone who wasn’t looking for them… but she knew they were there. And she knew exactly who had put them there, too.

She ran her fingers through her hair, exhaling slowly. One step at a time, she reminded herself. That had been Harry’s promise—and her own. It was equal parts exhilarating and nerve-racking to feel so drawn to someone she barely knew. But as she moved back into her bedroom and began pulling on her clothes for the day, her mind was already drifting to the possibility of seeing him tonight.

Would he come by the café? Show up again on her walk home? Or would she find him waiting outside her building like some dark, romantic secret? The thrill surged again at the thought of it. Despite all the unknowns, she couldn’t help but smile. There was no going back to the life she had before Harry—whether she understood it or not, her world had changed.

She glanced at her phone on the bedside table, an itch of impatience tugging at her. There were so many unanswered questions. Yet, as she thought of him—of his cryptic little smiles and careful, tender concern—she felt certain about one thing: she wanted more.

Gathering her bag and keys, she headed out, locking the door behind her with a steady hand. The city beckoned, the promise of another routine day overshadowed by the electric hum in her bloodstream. The marks on her neck might have been small, but they were a reminder of their night together. 

Y/n bustled into the café, shrugging off her coat as she made her way behind the counter. The scent of fresh coffee beans and warm pastries instantly surrounded her, a comforting backdrop to the electric undercurrent of her own thoughts. She couldn’t keep the small smile off her face—even hours after waking up, she still felt that residual rush every time she remembered Harry’s bite.

“Someone’s in a suspiciously good mood,” Ellie teased, eyeing Y/n over a tray of blueberry scones. “Care to explain?”

Y/n’s cheeks heated despite her best efforts to remain cool. “Oh, you know,” she said, forcing an air of casualness, “just enjoying the simple things. Good sleep, coffee in the morning… that kind of stuff.”

Ellie gave her a look that said, “ I’m not buying it.” “And this has nothing to do with that ridiculously attractive guy who visited a while back?” She set down the tray and crossed her arms, a smirk already forming at the corners of her lips.

Y/n tried to stifle a laugh but ended up smiling even wider. “What are you talking about?” she asked, raising an eyebrow in mock confusion. “Surely you don’t mean the one with the hair that absolutely doesn’t make me weak in the knees—or the accent that definitely doesn’t make my heart race?”

“Uh-huh. Right.” Ellie rolled her eyes, grabbing a clean rag to wipe the countertop. “So you’re telling me you’re all sunshine and smiles for no reason at all?”

Y/n shrugged, lifting a coffee mug to hide her grin. “Maybe I just woke up on the right side of the bed today.”

Ellie let out a laugh, then lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Look, if there is something going on, you know I’m here for it, right? I need details.”

Y/n pretended to think it over, tapping a finger against her chin. “Well…” she began, fighting another blush, “maybe I am seeing him again. Maybe soon. But I’m not giving any details just yet.”

Ellie groaned in playful exasperation. “You’re killing me here!”

“Trust me,” Y/n quipped, sliding a to-go cup across the counter to a waiting customer, “you’re better off not knowing all the details.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow, picking up on the mischievous gleam in Y/n’s eyes. “Fine,” she said, tossing the rag onto the counter. “But don’t be surprised if I keep an eye out for tall, dark, and mysterious. A girl needs to know what she’s up against.”

Y/n just laughed, feeling a renewed flush spread across her cheeks. Even if she couldn’t tell Ellie the whole truth, it felt good that someone was rooting for her. It was as if her happiness had become something tangible, woven into her every move. And no matter what complications might arise with Harry’s secret, Y/n couldn’t stop that buoyant feeling from spilling over into everything she did. She went about her day with a faint smile plastered on her face. 

When her shift was finished, Y/n stepped outside the bookshop, the sky a sullen gray as rain drizzled in cool sheets. She pulled the hood of her jacket over her head, adjusting her bag as she started her walk home. Her mind buzzed with all the questions she still hadn’t asked Harry—like how on earth he managed to track her by scent alone, or what his own home looked like. Was it as old-world and mysterious as he was? Or maybe minimalistic, a contrast to his ageless presence?

She’d only walked a block before the rumble of a sleek engine broke through the steady patter of rain. A black car glided to the curb, shadowy windows nearly imperceptible behind the droplets. Y/n slowed, her heart thumping in sudden alarm as the passenger window whirred down.

She was about to snap at whoever was inside—city instincts kicking in—until she realized it was Harry,leaning across the seat. His dark curls were damp but still artfully mussed, his green eyes flicking to hers with the slightest hint of a smile.

“Hop in,” he said, his voice calm through the drizzle, as though offering a simple courtesy.

Y/n hesitated, water already soaking the edges of her shoes. Normally, she’d never climb into a stranger’s car—rain or not. But Harry was not “normal,” and—truth be told—not much of a stranger anymore. Still, she couldn’t stop the wry grin that tugged at her lips.

“You know,” she called over the noise of the rain, “your car could’ve been anyone’s. I was about to tell you to fuck off.”

Harry laughed, the low sound almost lost in the hiss of tires on wet pavement. “I’ll try not to take it personally,” he said smoothly. “Now get in before you catch pneumonia.”

She hesitated just a moment more, scanning his features. There was concern in his gaze, mingled with that sense of quiet confidence she was quickly getting used to. With a sigh—part exasperation, part anticipation—she relented, stepping off the curb and opening the passenger door.

The interior was warm and smelled faintly of leather and something else, something uniquely Harry.She slid onto the seat, closing the door behind her. Outside, the rain drummed against the car’s exterior, but in here, it felt cocoon-like, almost intimate.

Harry pulled away from the curb, merging smoothly into the city’s damp evening traffic. Y/n pushed back her hood, shaking out droplets of rain from her hair. She snuck a quick glance at him, noting how his profile looked even sharper under the dim overhead light of the dashboard.

“Fancy ride,” she mused, tapping one finger lightly on the immaculate dashboard. “I was half expecting you to roll up in a horse-drawn carriage or something.”

He shot her a sideways smirk. “I save the carriage for special occasions.”

She chuckled, settling into the seat. “And what’s this then? A spur-of-the-moment kidnapping?”

“More like a rescue,” Harry said, slowing at a traffic light. The neon glow of signs outside washed momentarily over his features, enhancing the hint of a smile that played on his lips. “Figured you’d appreciate a ride home in this weather.”

Y/n’s heart fluttered at the casual way he spoke, like they’d done this a thousand times. She cleared her throat. “Well, thanks,” she said softly. “But I warn you: I still have about a million questions.”

He turned toward her, the light catching his eyes. “Ask me anything.”

She tucked a damp strand of hair behind her ear, wondering where to begin. “For starters… you tracked me by scent? That still blows my mind.”

Harry’s gaze flicked back to the road. “Our sense of smell is heightened,” he explained. “Most of us can track a scent for miles if it’s distinct enough. Yours was… very distinct.” His tone dipped slightly on those last words, as though remembering the allure she carried.

Y/n’s cheeks warmed. “I guess I’m flattered? A little creeped out, but mostly flattered.”

He laughed softly, the sound sending a pleasant shiver across her skin. “I don’t blame you. It’s not exactly normal. But I hope you’re getting used to the idea that I’m… not exactly normal.”

She bit her lip, unable to hold back a small smile. “Trust me, I’m getting there.”

Another question spilled to her tongue, but before she could ask it, the traffic light changed and Harry turned down a quieter street. She glanced at the passing rows of buildings, illuminated in fuzzy halos from the rain-slick streetlights.

“Are we… heading toward my place?” she asked, noticing they were slightly off her usual route.

Harry hesitated. “I thought—maybe—we could go somewhere else first,” he said, his voice careful. “If you’re up for it.”

A spark of curiosity flickered in her chest. “Where?”

“My place,” he replied simply, his hands steady on the wheel. “I realized you’ve never seen it, and… you said you had questions.”

Y/n’s pulse skipped. His place. She’d wondered what it might look like—had even pictured it in her head. Would it be old-world, filled with antiques? Or sleek and modern? The mere thought of stepping into his private space sent a thrill through her.

She glanced at him, her hand resting unconsciously on the small puncture marks hidden beneath her scarf. “I’d love that,” she murmured, voice colored by equal parts excitement and nerves.

Harry gave a small nod of acknowledgment. “Then it’s settled.”

The rain intensified outside, the roads glistening under the amber glow of streetlamps. Y/n sank back into the seat, stealing another look at Harry as he drove. Shadows played across the curve of his cheekbone, casting his features in a half-light that reminded her just how different he was—and how her world had shifted irreversibly since meeting him.

Yet she couldn’t deny the warmth growing in her chest, that tangible connection pulling her closer. She might not know what awaited her at his house—or how many more secrets she’d uncover—but as she watched the city pass by in a blur of silver and gold, she felt an undeniable rush of anticipation.

He was offering a piece of his world to her, and she was ready to step inside.

Y/n’s breath caught the moment his hand settled on her thigh. Even through her jeans, Harry’s touch felt unmistakably cool—like a whisper of winter air against her skin. She glanced down at his hand, noting the silver rings decorating his fingers, each one reflecting brief flashes of city lights through the window. Fine veins traced along the back of his hand, yet there was an otherworldly stillness to them, as though the blood beneath no longer pulsed with mortal life.

A strange mixture of comfort and curiosity bloomed in Y/n’s chest. She remembered the first time she’d become aware of his temperature—that night on her couch, when his lips had trailed across her jaw. Now that truth was plain to see in the pale, graceful lines of his hand.

She let her own fingers inch toward his, daring to rest them lightly against the back of his hand. “You’re so cold,” she said softly, the faint sound of the windshield wipers filling the silence between them.

Harry kept his gaze on the road, though his lips curved in a slight smile. “It’s… part of the package.” His voice had that gentle undertone that always seemed to let her know he was aware of how strange—how different—he must seem.

Y/n turned her eyes to the rain-blurred view outside, the streetlights bleeding into one another. “Does it ever bother you?” she asked, her voice barely above the rhythm of the wipers. “Being… this way?”

He exhaled, and she could sense the weight in that breath. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “Especially when I’m reminded of how far I am from being… human.”

She glanced at him, catching the tension in the set of his jaw. Even as he guided the car through the slick streets with effortless grace, she could see something vulnerable flicker behind his eyes.

“You don’t feel inhuman to me,” she murmured, her fingertips brushing the back of his hand in a comforting gesture. “Strange, maybe. But not inhuman.”

Harry’s grip tightened just a fraction on the steering wheel, and his other hand pressed a bit more firmly on her thigh, as though silently grateful for her words. “That helps,” he said at last, the corners of his mouth curving into a shadow of a smile. “More than you know.”

She let her gaze rest on his profile, her heartbeat steady and certain despite the endless questions swirling in her mind. In that moment, the cold of his touch didn’t feel like a warning—it felt like an invitation into a world different from her own, yet somehow already tied to her in ways she couldn’t explain.

Y/n wanted to ask more, to know the story behind every ring on his finger and the centuries that might lie behind his careful eyes. But with the rain drumming on the windows and Harry’s hand anchoring her to this moment, she decided not to push. One step at a time, she reminded herself. There would be time for questions and answers—long nights and whispered truths.

She slid her hand fully over his, giving it a gentle squeeze. In response, Harry’s thumb traced a slow, reassuring circle over her leg. Outside, the lights of the city blurred and glowed, carving out a small, shared universe within the car’s warm interior.

And as the road bent, carrying them closer to wherever Harry called home, Y/n felt her heart lift. The questions she had could wait—because right now, she was happy just existing in this slice of time, his cool touch grounding them both in the present.

Harry parked the sleek black car in a small underground garage beneath an unassuming brick building. The rain still drummed on the streets overhead, but once inside, all Y/n could hear was the soft echo of her own footsteps. A freight elevator—a curious relic of the city’s past—took them to the top floor. Its cage-like doors rattled open, revealing a hallway lit by old-fashioned wall sconces.

Harry guided her down the hall until they stopped in front of a solid wooden door. Without a word, he unlocked it and pushed it open, stepping aside so she could enter first.

The moment Y/n stepped in, she felt enveloped by a warmth that was undeniably Harry. The room carried his scent—faintly musky, with a whisper of something sweet and unplaceable. She inhaled deeply, a slow sense of comfort washing over her as she took in her surroundings.

Despite the modern furnishings—plush sofa, sleek coffee table, recessed lighting—there were unmistakable touches of antiquity everywhere. A grand, intricately carved mirror hung on one wall, its edges worn in a way that spoke of centuries of use. A weathered trunk with brass fittings served as an end table, stacked with thick, leather-bound books that looked like they’d been passed down through generations. The combination was oddly harmonious: a collision of old-world charm and modern minimalism that felt just right for someone like Harry.

Y/n wandered in a few steps, lightly trailing her fingers over the back of the sofa. “This place is…” She let the sentence hang, searching for the right word.

“Different?” Harry supplied, stepping in behind her and sliding off his coat.

She turned to face him, smiling softly. “I was going to say perfect. But that works, too.”

A quiet laugh escaped him. He seemed relieved by her reaction, as though he’d worried what she might think. “I move around a lot,” Harry admitted, glancing around at the curated mix of old and new. “So, the things I keep…I keep for a reason.”

Y/n’s eyes danced across the artifacts on display. A tarnished candelabra adorned a small table near the window, its silver twisted into delicate shapes. A tall bookshelf showcased rows of volumes both ancient and contemporary, the spines scrawled in languages she didn’t recognize.

She approached the fireplace—modern, but set within a mantle that appeared to be carved from dark marble. It wasn’t lit, but the faint smell of woodsmoke lingered, hinting that Harry sometimes used it. A painting above the mantle drew her attention: a serene, old-world landscape, likely older than any museum piece she’d seen in person.

“This is incredible,” she murmured, turning to look at him. “All of it. It’s so…you.”

Harry shrugged, hands sliding into his pockets as he studied her. “I like contrast,” he said quietly. “Keeping one foot in the past, one in the present.”

She crossed the room and took his hand. His fingers were still cold, but the closeness of the apartment, and his presence, made it feel more comforting than jarring. “Thank you,” she said, her voice gentle. “For bringing me here.”

His gaze flicked down to where their fingers intertwined, then back up to meet her eyes. “I wanted you to see…” he paused, searching for the right words, “this part of me.”

Y/n squeezed his hand, a faint smile on her lips. “Well, I’m here,” she said, releasing a breath that felt like it carried away every last hesitation. “And I want to see everything you’re willing to share.”

Harry’s lips curved in a thoughtful, half-smile. “Then stay as long as you like.”

She glanced around again, letting her senses absorb the warmth, the blend of history and modern comfort, and the intangible presence that was uniquely Harry. A shiver of anticipation threaded through her—because for all the questions still on her mind, she knew with certainty she was exactly where she wanted to be.

Y/n settled onto the plush couch, leaning into the gentle warmth that permeated the apartment. Harry rose briefly and returned with a bottle of red wine and two glasses—though he’d already mentioned he rarely drank anything besides blood these days. Still, he poured a small measure of wine into a glass for her, the soft clink of glass against wood echoing in the cozy space.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, accepting the glass. She took a cautious sip, letting the mellow, fruity taste linger on her tongue. Meanwhile, Harry set the bottle aside and eased onto the couch beside her, leaving his own glass untouched on the coffee table.

He reached out, brushing a few strands of hair back from her face in a gesture so tender it made her heart flutter. “You’re perfect,” he murmured under his breath, almost as if he didn’t mean for her to hear it.

Her cheeks warmed, and she lowered her gaze, shy beneath his unyielding attention. “I’m really not,” she replied, taking another sip to hide her sudden rush of nerves. “But… thank you.”

Harry’s lips curved into the faintest smile, though something in his eyes told her he found the statement too simple to convey how he truly felt. A beat of quiet followed—one of those moments that felt charged with unspoken confessions.

Finally, Y/n drew in a breath and turned fully toward him. “Ever since that night you drank from me—” She paused, conscious of how odd and intimate the words sounded, “—I’ve felt… alive in a way I never have before. It’s almost ironic.”

Harry’s eyebrow lifted. “Ironic how?”

She exhaled, struggling to describe the sensation that had been following her around since that night. “It’s like some part of me woke up. And I’ve been trying to figure out if it’s about… you, or what you did, or both. But everything is sharper. Colors seem brighter, food tastes better, I have more energy—even when I’m tired, it’s like my mind is in overdrive.”

He listened carefully, leaning in slightly. “Does it frighten you?”

She took a moment to consider that. “No,” she admitted. “Not exactly. If anything, it’s… exhilarating. But there’s something else, too. A sense of needing—wanting—to be near you. I can’t tell if it’s emotional, or if it’s because of whatever happened with the bite. Or both.”

Harry shifted closer, until there was just a whisper of space between them. “When we feed,” he said softly, “we exchange more than just blood. There’s… an energy to it. A bond that can form. It doesn’t always happen—but when it does, it’s intense. You feel a rush of vitality, and I…” He hesitated, searching her eyes. “I feel everything you feel.”

She swallowed, heart thudding. “So you know this… longing I’ve been feeling?”

He nodded, gaze skimming her features. “I do. And it’s not one-sided.”

Her breath caught, every nerve in her body suddenly aware of the nearness of him—of his faint, familiar scent, of the cool touch of his hand resting on the cushion between them. Setting her wineglass on the table, she turned so that her knees brushed his.

“You said you don’t usually bite people… that it’s rare,” she said, her voice hushed. “Why me?”

Harry reached for her hand, running his thumb softly over her knuckles. “From the first moment I smelled your scent, I knew there was something… unique about you. But it wasn’t just that.” He lifted his gaze, the intensity in his eyes making her chest tighten. “Getting to know you—talking with you—made it impossible to stay away. I couldn’t ignore the pull.”

She squeezed his hand, feeling an inexplicable surge of relief and excitement at the same time. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

His eyes traced her face as if memorizing every detail. “So am I.”

In the quiet that followed, the only sounds were the soft hum of the city beyond the windows and the faint ticking of an antique clock somewhere behind them. Y/n’s heart pounded, equal parts curiosity and desire swirling in her. She carefully shifted, turning more fully to him, and he let his hand drift to her knee, cool fingers just pressing through the fabric of her jeans.

Their eyes locked, and in that moment, Y/n felt once again that rush of life—of every cell in her body awakening. She had a million more questions swirling in her mind, but as she watched his expression soften, she decided the answers could wait. Right now, she just wanted to bask in the warmth of being here, in his world, in his arms.

“I want to stay,” she whispered.

He leaned in, just enough that she could see the subtle shape of his fangs behind those parted lips. “Then stay,” he murmured, as though it was the simplest request in the world.

Y/n’s next breath felt shaky with anticipation as she reached out and lightly brushed the hair from his eyes. She couldn’t help but smile, heart fluttering in her chest. Leaning closer, she closed the small distance between them—letting the moment swallow them both whole.

They continued kissing, breaths mingling in the low-lit bedroom as Harry carefully lifted her into his arms. Y/n let out a soft laugh, both surprised and exhilarated by his effortless strength. Her fingers threaded through his curls as he carried her down the hallway and into a warmly lit room that felt at once cozy and steeped in untold history.

He set her gently on the edge of a wide bed layered with plush blankets. The scent of him—like aged wood and something faintly sweet—seemed even stronger here, and it sent a pleasant shiver through her. Harry sat beside her, one hand resting on her hip, his lips never straying far from hers. In between slow, languid kisses, he eased them both down until they were lying side by side, the world outside fading to insignificance.

Y/n’s hands slid up the planes of his chest, coming to rest over his shoulders. There was a coolness beneath the warmth of his skin, and something about that contrast, that blend of what he had been and what he was now, made her heart pound.

They lingered like that for a while—just quiet touches and shared breaths—until her mind, always swirling with questions, finally nudged her to speak. She drew back slightly, searching his gaze.

“I want to know everything,” she murmured, brushing a thumb over his jaw. “About you… about your life before… all this.”

Harry’s expression softened, though there was a flicker of caution in his eyes. His hand drifted up to tangle gently in her hair, as if grounding himself with her presence. “That’s a long story,” he said quietly.

Y/n’s lips curved in a small smile. “I’ve got time.”

He took a breath, an unnecessary habit for him, but it seemed to help him gather his thoughts. “I was born in the late 1800s,” he began. “England. A small town, really no big cities around, no tall buildings, no electric lights. My family worked the land. We weren’t rich, but we managed.”

She inched closer, wrapping one arm around his waist. “And you? What was life like for you back then?”

A wistful look crossed his features. “It was… simpler, I suppose. Harder in some ways—less medicine, less comfort but simpler, too. Days began when the sun rose and ended when the candles burned out. My main concerns were harvests and family, making sure we had enough food for the winter.” He paused, letting out a soft laugh tinged with nostalgia. “Never imagined I’d see a century turn, let alone two.”

Y/n’s fingertips moved idly across his arm, feeling the lean muscle beneath. “How old were you when it changed? When… you changed?”

He exhaled slowly, eyes drifting up toward the ceiling as if searching distant memories. “I was barely in my twenties. Not much older than you are now. I was visiting London for the first time—wide-eyed, excited to see the world beyond my village. I didn’t know… what was waiting for me in the city’s shadows.”

She swallowed, torn between fascination and an ache of sympathy. “What happened?”

His gaze flicked back to hers, and his hand resumed its gentle stroke through her hair. “I was attacked. It wasn’t romantic or… even intentional, I think. Just a creature someone like me, but feral who lost control. Left me for dead in an alleyway.” A faint, humorless smile touched his lips. “But I wasn’t exactly dead, was I?”

Y/n’s fingers tightened on his arm. “That sounds terrifying.”

Harry’s eyes darkened briefly, as if recalling the horror. “At first, it was. Waking up in a state of hunger I couldn’t comprehend… instincts tearing at me.” He paused, then shook his head with a sad, small smile. “I was alone for a long time, trying to figure out how to live… or not live… with what I’d become.”

Her heart twisted at his words, and she shifted closer, pressing the warmth of her body against his cool side. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, voice laced with genuine compassion. “No one should have to go through that alone.”

He studied her for a long moment, brushing a thumb across her cheek. “It was a different world then,” he said softly. “But I managed. Eventually, I found others like me who helped me learn control, taught me how to exist alongside humans without hurting them. Still… it leaves a mark on you.”

Y/n laid her head against his shoulder, comforted by his arm curling around her. “Have you ever wanted to be human again?”

Harry stared at the faint lines on the ceiling, silent for a moment. “Sometimes,” he admitted quietly. “Especially when I see people living ordinary lives—growing old, having children, passing on their stories. That’s something I’ll never experience.” His gaze flicked to hers, and the weight of his centuries pressed in his eyes. “But then I think about how much I’ve seen and done, how many places I’ve been, and I realize… there’s beauty in this existence too.”

She leaned up to press a gentle kiss to his jaw, then settled back against him. “Thank you for telling me,” she said, voice sincere. “I know it can’t be easy to relive all of that.”

Harry’s embrace tightened, and he pressed a light kiss to her forehead. “You make it a bit easier,” he murmured. “Easier than it’s ever been, most people aren’t as understanding.”

They let a comfortable silence stretch between them, a quiet acceptance passing in glances and soft touches. His story was a glimpse of the countless tales locked behind his eyes—stories she yearned to uncover. And although those revelations carried their share of darkness, Y/n felt no fear. Instead, she felt an inexplicable pull, deepening her bond with this man who was so much more than human.

Eventually, she shifted, meeting his gaze once more. “If you don’t mind,” she said gently, “I’d like to hear more. Someday… everything you’re ready to share.”

A ghost of a smile curved his lips. “Someday,” he echoed, fingers trailing down her arm. “For now, let’s just… stay here. In this moment.”

Y/n propped herself up on one elbow, her gaze roaming over Harry’s face. He was stretched out beside her, the lines of his expression shadowed by centuries of caution and uncertainty. The longer she looked at him, the more her heart ached to close the distance that still lingered between them—those unspoken fears that came with loving someone not quite human.

She reached for his hand, weaving her fingers through his. “I know it won’t be easy,” she began, her voice hushed. “That it’s dangerous. That… you move around a lot. You’re not like other guys I’ve known—”

He let out a low, almost humorless laugh. “That’s putting it mildly,” he murmured, lifting their joined hands and pressing his cool lips to her knuckles. “I’ve never exactly fit into the ‘boy next door’ category.”

A small smile tugged at her lips. “That’s fine by me,” she said, inching closer. “I’m not looking for normal. I’m looking for… you.”

Harry’s expression turned solemn, and he threaded a hand gently through her hair. “You say that now, but if you knew half the dangers—” He broke off, his jaw tightening as though wrestling with words he didn’t want to voice. “There are things about my life that you might not be ready for. Having to uproot everything at a moment’s notice, hiding what I am, never really settling down because… eventually, people notice if you never age.”

Y/n’s chest twisted at the pain lacing his voice. She moved even closer, close enough that the faint warmth of her breath fell against his cheek. “I’m willing to deal with that,” she said softly. “All of it. Because I’ve never felt this connected to anyone before, Harry. I don’t even know how to explain it—you pull me in. I can’t imagine just walking away.”

He studied her, his gaze drifting from her eyes to the shape of her lips, down to the small marks on her neck where he had once bitten her. With the faintest exhale, he closed his eyes. “I don’t want you to regret this,” he said at last, voice tight with emotion. “My life… it can be dark. Lonely. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Her hand slid up to cup his cheek. “You keep saying that,” she whispered, “It’d hurt more to walk away from you now.”

Harry’s lids lifted, revealing the turmoil in his green eyes. Hesitation warred with yearning; centuries of caution battling a desire he couldn’t quite deny. “You’d have to give up so much,” he said, almost pleading with her to see the weight of her choice. “Routine, stability, your friends, your family—everything you’re used to. I’m not sure when or where I’ll have to go next. You’ll have to stay unchanged to live life. I can’t take that away from you completely.”

Y/n pressed her forehead to his, heart hammering with both fear and exhilaration. “I’m not saying it won’t be scary,” she admitted. “But it’s scarier thinking about my life without you in it, you’re what I’ve been looking for.”

A shuddering breath escaped him. His arms slid around her, drawing her closer until her head rested against his chest. He said nothing for a moment, simply letting their breathing synchronize. She could feel the cool edge of his body against her warmer one—tangible proof of the gulf between them, and yet how perfectly they fit.

“You’ll regret it if I don’t at least try,” she added gently.

He closed his eyes again, his fingers splaying across her back. “Maybe,” he murmured. “But I don’t want you to lose yourself in all this.”

Y/n swallowed, considering his words. “The only thing I’m afraid of losing,” she whispered, “is you.”

Silence wrapped around them like a fragile promise. Outside, the city hummed with its usual nighttime pulse, but here, in the glow of a single bedside lamp, it felt like they inhabited a small, separate universe. Finally, Harry kissed the crown of her head, the gesture carrying centuries of guarded emotion slowly breaking open.

“All right,” he said, voice ragged with vulnerability. “We’ll figure it out—together. Like I said one step at a time.”

Y/n exhaled in relief, her grip on his shirt relaxing now that she had his answer. She tilted her face up, and he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to her lips, quiet but brimming with all the words he didn’t know how to say yet.

In that unspoken understanding, they both knew the path ahead would be full of risks and sacrifices—but also the kind of profound connection most people never got to taste. So they clung to each other, heartbeats out of sync but souls inexplicably twined. 

When Y/n stirred the next morning, she first noticed the unfamiliar softness of the sheets beneath her cheek. A slow smile curled her lips as the events of the previous night settled over her like a warm blanket: Harry’s stories, the gentle brush of his lips, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her hand. She drew in a breath, catching that faint, comforting scent she’d come to associate with him—woodsmoke and something sweet, a blend as mysterious as the man himself.

She pushed the covers aside and sat up, brushing hair away from her face. Through a thin slice of the drawn curtains, she could see a pale light creeping in. Morning already, she thought. Time felt like it had slipped away the moment she’d laid down in Harry’s arms.

A subtle clink of dishes from beyond the bedroom drew her attention. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, padding barefoot along the hall to find Harry waiting in the open kitchen. The space was just as eclectic as the rest of his apartment: modern appliances set against old-world touches—like a vintage spice rack and a wrought-iron pot hanger that looked centuries old.

“Morning,” she said, voice still husky with sleep.

Harry turned at the sound of her voice, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. His curls fell loose over his forehead, and he wore a simple black sweater that set off the striking color of his eyes. “Good morning,” he replied softly. “I, um… stepped out for a bit.” He gestured to a small paper bag and a to-go cup on the counter. “I don’t really—well, you know. But I wanted to make sure you had something to eat.”

Heat rushed to Y/n’s cheeks at the thoughtful gesture. “You didn’t have to do that,” she murmured, moving closer.

“Maybe not,” Harry conceded, “but you were sleeping so peacefully, and I wanted you to have breakfast.”

She peeked into the bag, finding a warm croissant and a small container of fruit. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since the night before. Sliding onto a stool by the kitchen island, she offered him a grateful smile. “Thank you. Seriously.”

Harry leaned his elbows on the opposite side of the counter, watching her with quiet fascination as she took a bite of the croissant. Flaky layers melted in her mouth, and she let out a blissful hum.

“Good?” he asked with a crooked grin.

“Delicious,” she confirmed, taking a sip from the to-go cup—coffee, just how she liked it. “You remembered,” she added, a bit surprised he knew her coffee order so well.

“I’m observant,” Harry teased, then shrugged. “Plus, you always write it down for your customers at the café. I picked up a few details.”

She rolled her eyes in playful exasperation. “Stalker.”

A quiet laugh escaped him, but the affectionate warmth in his gaze spoke volumes. He let her enjoy her breakfast in comfortable silence, occasionally handing her napkins or topping off her coffee from a French press he’d warmed on the stove. She couldn’t stop smiling at how domestic it felt—a far cry from the chaotic, surreal realization that he was a vampire who’d once drunk her blood.

When she finished, Harry straightened, gesturing down the hall. “If you’d like, the bathroom’s yours. Fresh towels are on the shelf. I figured you might appreciate a shower.”

“That sounds perfect,” she admitted, sliding off the stool. She paused, glancing down at her wrinkled clothes from yesterday. “I don’t suppose you have anything else I could wear?”

Harry’s gaze flicked across her face before he nodded, lips quirking. “I’ll find you something.”

A few minutes later, Y/n was standing under the warm spray of the shower, water cascading over her shoulders. She let out a contented sigh, savoring the simplicity of this moment. Her life felt turned upside down in the most extraordinary way—yet here she was, in his apartment, feeling oddly safe. Even the scent of his shampoo, musky and faintly spicy, was a comfort.

She stepped out, wrapping herself in a thick towel, and found a neatly folded shirt and her jeans waiting on a small wooden bench. She recognized her own jeans, but the oversized shirt was definitely Harry’s—soft cotton worn in all the right places, with sleeves that hung past her elbows. Slipping it on, she inhaled discreetly, catching his lingering scent in the fabric.

I could get used to this.

When she emerged, hair still damp, she found Harry back in the kitchen, rinsing dishes. He turned at the sound of her footsteps, his gaze lingering on the way the shirt dwarfed her frame. A smile ghosted across his lips, equal parts affection and attraction.

“Looks better on you,” he offered, gesturing to the shirt.

Y/n felt a thrill race up her spine. “It’s comfortable,” she admitted, giving the hem a playful tug. “Thanks.”

He turned off the water and set aside a mug, then reached for a kitchen towel. “I forgot to ask, did you sleep okay?” he asked softly.

The unexpected concern warmed her chest. “I slept better than I have in a while.” she said, not bothering to hide the sincerity in her tone. “I always hated sleeping alone.”

Harry’s eyebrows flicked upward, and a gentle expression settled over his face. “I’m glad,” he murmured, crossing the space to her. His hand lifted as though to tuck her damp hair behind her ear, a gesture she was starting to recognize as one of his quiet intimacies. “I wasn’t sure if it’d feel too strange to wake up here.”

She looked up at him, her heart giving a little flutter. “Honestly? I’m still processing everything,” she admitted, “but I don’t regret it. Not for a second.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The world outside was all rain-soaked streets and city noise, but in this apartment, everything felt warm and still. Harry’s hand lingered near her cheek, fingertips grazing the collar of his shirt where it rested against her collarbone.

“Stay as long as you want,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “If you need to head to work, I can drive you. Or you can… hang out here until you’re ready to go.”

She weighed the options, a small smile touching her lips. “I do have work later,” she acknowledged, “but not for a few hours. If you don’t mind the company…”

He shook his head, his own smile soft and quick. “I don’t,” he murmured. “In fact, I’d prefer it.”

Y/n felt that familiar tug of connection—the same magnetic pull that had defined their relationship from the start. Without overthinking it, she stepped closer, lifting herself just enough to brush her lips against his. He was cool against her warm skin, and the contrast sent a pleasant shiver down her spine.

Breaking the kiss, she rested her forehead against his, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “I’m not sure how any of this is supposed to work or if it’s even going to work,” she whispered, “but I know I want to at least try.”

Harry’s arms slid around her waist, keeping her close. “So do I,” he promised quietly.

With that, they settled into the soft hush of the kitchen. The rush of the morning, the shower’s warmth still clinging to her, the taste of coffee lingering on her tongue—and his steady presence at her side. It was anything but ordinary, yet it felt wonderfully, undeniably real.

Harry slipped an arm around Y/n’s waist, drawing her close in a slow, gentle movement. The warmth of her body pressed against his cool chest made a pleasant shiver run through her. He bent his head until his nose was near the curve of her neck, and she felt him inhale—long and deep, as though savoring every note of her scent.

“You smell… so sweet,” he murmured, his voice a velvety whisper. “Almost… too good.”

She swallowed, heart thudding in her chest. “Should I be worried?” she asked, her tone light but her eyes searching his face. “About your self-control?”

Harry let a low chuckle escape him, though there was an edge of tension in his expression. “My self-control is… typically very strong. But I have to admit,” his gaze flicked to her throat, then back up to meet her eyes, “you make it difficult.”

Y/n’s heart fluttered in equal parts excitement and caution. It was easy to forget the danger underlying his nature when he was being so tender and thoughtful. But moments like this—when she could practically feel his hunger just under the surface—were a stark reminder of what he truly was.

She brushed a hand over his cheek, feeling his cool skin under her warm fingers. “I don’t want you to lose it,” she said softly, a hint of concern threading her voice. “But… I’m not scared.”

Harry’s eyes reflected a swirl of emotions—desire, conflict, gratitude. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers, and she could sense how carefully he controlled his breath.

“I won’t hurt you,” he promised, voice low. “It’s the one thing I refuse to do.”

Y/n’s lips curved into a small, reassuring smile. “I believe you.”

For a moment, they stayed like that: foreheads touching, arms wrapped around each other, letting the city’s distant hum fade into a quiet hush. Despite the tension humming just beneath his cool exterior, she felt safe in his arms.

He slowly pulled back, eyes flicking between her lips and her throat. “One day,” he murmured, almost in a self-deprecating tease, “I might have to invest in a good scent blocker—or work on my restraint even more.”

Y/n’s laugh was breathy as she stroked a thumb gently across the side of his neck. “Or, I could just keep a stash of blood bags around to distract you.”

Harry blinked, then let out a real, easy laugh—a genuine sound that lit up his eyes. “I suppose that’d be one way to go.”

She grinned. “See? Problem solved.”

His laugh subsided into a lingering smile, and he shook his head in mild wonder. “You don’t even flinch talking about that. About what I am.”

Y/n pressed her lips together, feeling the honesty in her chest. “It’s part of you, and I… want all of you.”

Harry’s grip tightened slightly around her waist, and in that moment, she glimpsed a flash of that quiet hunger in his eyes. Not just for her blood, but for her presence—no longer wanting to be alone. She moved in first, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to his lips.

When they parted, she rested her head against his shoulder, listening to the city beyond.

Harry, despite the centuries he’d lived, looked at her like she was entirely new—worth every ounce of restraint. 

She felt certain of one thing: she wasn’t afraid.

[running-with-kn1ves]

Drunken Stupor

A/N: this is based off of that drunken yan gangster idea that I couldn't get out of my head. I might rewrite it or do it differently but this is 4 u my 1 gangster lovin' anon for now!

OG Yandere Gangster Drabble (nsft) w/ da Yan Gangster Ramble

TW: kidnapping, drunken yandere, noncon kissing (no nsft), threats, toxic behavior, 

Puzzles, accompanied by whatever news channel you could get through. Paint-by-number pictures, and shitty DVD’s from another time. Horribly thin sheets and an aching back--- you were completely, utterly, and seemingly irrevocably, isolated. The tight handcuffs around your feet only allowed you to hop around the house, barely making it to the front door before you tripped over the rug and nosedived into the cold, black floor. 

How long has it been? When was the last time you felt the spring wind on your face? You weren’t even allowed to open the windows, out of your captors fear of you screaming for help, even with him right next to you. He gave you countless things to keep yourself entertained, whether they be knitting grandma-like sweaters or taking up a different artistic hobby, anything that could keep you in one spot for long without the need to move or the option to hurt yourself. 

You were tempted to scream, to throw your half-finished puzzle at the wall and destroy the nice room set up for you that once belonged to the lone bachelor-- who, was much later than usual tonight. Your throat was too sore to keep up with the screaming however, and you pushed it to the back of your mind to try again tomorrow. If he came home all of a sudden and found you screaming at the ripe hour of 11 PM, he might do more than just threaten with one of his switchblades. 

You hated being around the bastard, feeling so terrified and weak like maybe today would finally be your last-- but at this point, you were going insane being by yourself for so long. Even a nice screaming match with him until your voice finally left you would more desirable than watching another 80s thriller that would haunt your dreams, alone. For someone who wasn’t home very often, he certainly had an extensive collection of old gangster movies, romcoms too even. But you couldn’t put Sixteen Candles on again without wanting to rip your eyes out-- not even one of his five million copies of The Godfather. Who needs that many copies of the same movie?

Your exhausted, beaten-down brain jolted at the sound of someone jerking at the door handle. The door practically thumped with the lock against the wall, dust raining as it was violently ripped back and forth. But then came the familiar jangle of an overloaded key ring, one you had heard most nights for what you can only assume has been the past month. 

Finally, your spiked anxiety crashed when you saw those familiar, much-too-shiny-for-a-gangster-to-be-wearing black leather shoes thump inside. You peaked your head out from your sitting position near the opened bedroom door, trying to get a glimpse without getting up and alerting him of your presence. It was inevitable for him to come to you, his kidnapee, but you tried to postpone the smothering for as long as possible. Maybe now was the time to chuck that puzzle. 

“You reallyyy gotta hold *hic* on mee…”

Mismatched footsteps trudged, stopping first to hit the corner of what you could only assume was the livingroom loveseat.

“Move outa ma way, couch! ..Even though you… treeat me *hic* badlyy..”

You heard the raking of fingernails on the couch cushions, the clink of a bottle rolling on the ground back and forth. You didn’t dare look back through the door crack. Maybe you should shut it? Lord knows what that would cause him to do, though. 

“You still gotts’a hold on me…” 

The sing-songy voice came closer, belonging to the madman you dreaded the return of. Within the crack of the door you saw a dark silhouette, the TV casting a face-shadowing glow that made you just an inch more terrified. 

“Hey, baby…” He hiccuped. 

“Well that’s new,” You started, looking away from him back to your puzzle. “When did I become your ‘baby’?” 

He moaned thoughtfully, thinking about your rhetorical question. “After you kidnapped me, I suppose?”

Maybe it was wrong to poke the beast, especially because he smelled like dirty whiskey and had three buttons too loose on his dress shirt, showing a deep scar betwixt his faint chest hair. A vulnerable image he’d never let you witness soberly. 

“Hrmmm….” He pushed his entire weight on the door, letting it creak open as he looked at you with a smile. 

“I dunno…maybe.” He laughed a little, giving a small snort like a schoolboy hearing his first nasty joke. 

You rolled your eyes. Damn, as if you weren’t on edge before, now you were going to have to deal with the equivalent of a murderous toddler who’s been threatening to hurt you ever since you were first brought here. Drunken fools were best left at the bar. 

But your icy demeanor didn’t sway his unsettingly good mood, the gangster opening the door all the way to flop onto your (unwillingly) shared bed. He dug his face into the sheets that smelled like you, looking at the back of your head that was pressed against the edge of the mattress.

“Was thinkin’ bout’cha…” He murmurs, tugging at a strand of your hair from behind. “Couldn’t stop talkin’ to the boys, ‘bout how pretty you are..” 

The short yanks at your hair to get your attention were becoming annoying, though you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of glaring face-to-face. 

“Told em’ how nice you look when yer sleepin’, when ya brush ya teeth, sayin’ that they’re not allowed to have ya....”

You hummed in response, trying to bend away to get closer to your puzzle. But you could sense the bubbling in your stomach, could feel that something was coming. Whether it’d be a bunch of slobbered kisses or your early demise, you couldn’t tell. 

“Oh really?” You asked, knowing he’d been adamant on not saying a word or letting make a peep about your existence in his gang-funded condo. 

“Yah, I did. Don’t believe me? Said i’d cut their fingers off, like boss does when some’n fucks up. I’d slam into em, make em watch while I...” 

He went quiet, and you thanked whatever made him. Whatever he said, you didn’t want to know; you’d already had enough of an unwilling look into his violent thoughts. 

“Well, doesn’t matter now, right... ‘cause now I gots’ya here. Mmph,” You hear him kick his shoes off, his face coming up to bury in your hair. “Smellin’ so good, lookin’ so nice fr’ me… wanting you so bad.” 

The sound of him inhaling you, his nose pressed to your neck as he shimmies his head deeper against you like a cat is uncomfortably warm. You feel two hands creep up, looking for your shoulders to push you back and make you more accessible. 

The gangster wasn’t normally so affectionate, so quiet and simple when he spoke. You were waiting for it to be replaced by his normal, angrily resentful behavior, the type that’d pull you by the hair to kiss you, that’d rant about the idiots he’d had to deal with for the day at you. But maybe, just maybe, you were in the clear for now?

“You’re acting weird,” You try to jerk away. “I’m not in the mood to entertain you, okay? Just, let me do my puzzle in peace. Go take a shower or something.”

He’s quick to respond, wrapping veiny arms around your shoulders and dangerously close to your neck. 

“Nuh huh, not unless yer comin’ with me, wanna show how much I loove you,” His head pops up closer to yours, the stressed crinkles under his eyes making him look older. “Cuz’ baby, you reallyy gotta hold on mee..” 

“Stop stop stop.” You couldn’t take the second-hand embarassment of listening him to try to sing again, horribly off key and far too confident in each drawn out word. “What do I have to do to stop you from singing again?”

“I can’t hold it in though. Love’s too strong for you, love.” His disheveled hair, once slicked back in an oily black, now strewn about across his forehead as it nearly covers his eyebrows. He presses his forehead towards you. “Lemme kiss. Told the boys you give the best kisses, lemme prove it..”

“Prove what-- they’re not even here!” You try to go under his arm-barricade, only to be stopped as he practically puts his full weight forward, dragging him with you each time you move. 

“Lovin’ you for so long, jusst a kiss, just one kith..” He reaches for your cheek with his lips, ignoring how you whip your head around in retaliation.

“No, no! You stink like a bar and ciggarettes, get off me.”

He grunts in frustration, biting down on his lower lip as his dark, full eyebrows furrow together. 

“Let me kiss or i’ll.. I’ll gut you like a fish, my lovely..” 

You stopped at that, looking out of the corner of your eye to his pink-tinted cheeks and strong neck that sweated at the sight of you. 

He puts a ringed knuckle to your cheek, huffing as his eyes go half-lidded. His suit was all wrinkled from rolling around on the bed, dirty with the day’s work and bar-stench as he forced you back against the end of the mattress. 

“C’mon, don’t make me say stuff like that just for a kiss…” He whined, scooting closer. “Maybe I’ll start singing again, y’knoww, if y’don’t come close.” 

“Please just… don’t hurt me.” You mumbled, trying to avoid that blank, dark look he often held that came crawling back a moment ago. You didn’t want that sober side right now; this was somehow easier to handle, even if it meant losing your dignity. 

“Don’t wanna, never will,” He hums, staring unbothered at your lips, as if he wasn’t holding you tight enough to suffocate. “S’just kiss me, need it bad..” 

You looked around, as if there was anyone else looking, trying to avoid the task that made you shiver inside. 

But you didn’t get a chance to reject the drunken gangster again, his wet lips coming against the side of your face. He poked the tip of his tongue out, flicking against your lip before going tongue-first into your surprised mouth. 

Anytime he had tried to kiss you, to do anything overtly intimate, the most he released was the silent huffs of a man too wrapped up in himself to let you hear anything of pleasure. But now, you witnessed the lewd shlops of his lips against yours, the neediness of the back of his throat, groaning to be deeper inside of you. 

One of his heavy hands cradled the back of your head, his stupor not caring (or rather, not noticing) how little you moved, how you seemed to be backing into his large palm that massaged your hair. 

“Loved’ya forever, so happy you were so stupid…” He mumbles between licks to the corner of your lip, diving back into the sticky warmth of you. “What kinda… mph, idiot, doesn’t..hugh, report to the police..?” 

With his arm once wrapped around you, the gangster takes your limp wrist to his collar, bringing it to hold his loose tie. He makes you drag him closer, guiding your slow and frowning lips in his one-sided makeout session. 

“Not’ma fault, making your life so much better now.. N’now, you’re mine.” He grins, a stupid little grin from the alcohol and delusion swarming his head as he consumes you, fingers coming to fiddle with your cotton T-shirt as he draws lines down your chest. “My sweet sunshine, all mine, forever n’ ever.” 

[phantomwithbreakfast]

✩ ~ If You Know, You Know ~ ✩

If you’re adrift in your own vivid, imaginary world, you know. If your mind doesn’t follow the typical pathways, you know.

(A kind of animated thing at the end of this)

———————

The sunlight stretched long fingers through my window, spilling warm streaks across the cluttered floor. Paints, pencils, and half-finished sketches surrounded me, a small fortress of creative chaos. I was deep into it—lost in the rhythm of sketching lines that might, just might, lead somewhere—when Danny appeared.

At first, he was just a shadow in the corner of my eye, a faint blur of movement. But then, as if the sunlight solidified him, he stood there, leaning casually against the wall like he’d always been a part of this room.

“Working hard or hardly working?” he teased me, that lopsided grin of his making me smile despite myself.

I waved him off, pretending I was drawing. “What do you think, genius?”

Danny didn’t answer.

Of course, he didn’t.

He never gave me that satisfaction. So instead, he plopped himself on my desk chair and began whistling.

“Do you mind?” I asked, feigning irritation.

He shrugged. “Not really.”

I rolled my eyes and tried to concentrate, but Danny had other plans. He started tapping his fingers on my desk, drumming out some rhythm that had no beginning and no end. When that didn’t get a rise out of me, he started humming—soft at first, then louder, adding lyrics that made absolutely no freaking sense.

“Danny!”

“What? You looked like you needed a break.”

“I don’t.”

“You sure?” He grinned wider and reached over to nudge one of my pencils off the desk. It clattered to the floor, joining the others he’d already scattered.

This was the thing about Danny. He didn’t come when I needed him, not really. He came when I thought I didn’t need anyone. He came when I was so buried in my own mind—in every single way possible—that I didn’t notice the sunlight anymore or the way the world felt alive outside these four walls.

If you know, you know. If you’re the kind of person whose head is so full of ideas it feels like it might burst, you know what it’s like to have a Danny. Someone that pulls you out of your own brain and reminds you there’s more to life than the next line, the next stroke, the next brilliant thought.

“Okay, fine,” I sighed, setting my pencil down. “You win.”

Danny lit up like I’d handed him a trophy. “Excellent choice.”

He flopped onto the floor beside me against the wall, staring up at the ceiling like he was seeing constellations in the cracks of the plaster.

“So, what are we working on today?” He asked.

“I am working,” I corrected. “You are distracting.”

“Same difference.”

He turned his head to grin at me, and for a slight moment, I forgot all about the mess, the deadlines, the pressure.

It didn’t matter that Danny would probably be gone in a few hours, fading back into wherever he came from. What mattered was that right now, he was here. Pulling me out of myself, turning my messy little room into something brighter, something more alive.

And maybe that was the point of Danny. He wasn’t here to stay. He was here to remind me that sometimes, it’s okay to put the pencil down and just exist.

For a while, we just sat there, watching the sunlight move across the walls, filling the silence with his whistling and my laughter.

Again, if you know, you know.

———————

When my full hyper-fixated ADHD brain kicks in, this happens. Most of the time it’s just Phantom that shows up though, not Danny as Fenton. (I was doubting to post this, but yeah. I did it anyway)

———————

—OC: Hailey.

I’m that kind of a Phan… (っᵔ◡ᵔ)っ⋆˙⟡♡

Please, tell me I’m not the only one for Danny’s sake…

[granolawriting]

A change in fate ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

pairing: no breakout!Joel x fem reader

Summary: Your toxic ex kicks you out of your place without another word. Only hiring a mover to get your stuff somewhere else. And when Joel finds you in a state of disarray, and stays indifferent, you butt heads until it comes to a head when your paths cross again after that night. That time, much more complicated.

Content warning: age gap, you're 21 and Joel is mid 30s to early 40s. Enemies to lovers.

word count: 4k

A/N: this is the first of a two-part series inspired by an old movie I grew up with. If you can recognize it, I'll like, give you a really big treat. no nsfw this chapter, but the next one will. And as always, let me know if you like my work or if you have any suggestions for anything else I could write :)

Part 2 out now!!: to make you forget

“NO. No. No no no no no no no NO!!!” 

Your fist hits solid wood once more. Every slam that pounds upon its impenetrable front leaves a mark on your hand in the shape of bruises and soreness-- you try the door once more. It's locked, as it had been the last ten times you attempted to open it. Desperation laced in the fruitless fervor that played its sound of metal clanking on metal as the knob refused to turn. 

The thump on the ground follows a fall of your knees. Defeated, hopeless, in a dress that isn't even yours. Tears stream from your face in such passion you can't even feel them anymore as more of you is wet than it is dry. You imagine you look a mess, hair disheveled as you held it as you screamed at him-- makeup once beautiful and elegant streams down and across your face in the motion your hands chose to wipe away your tears. 

A screeching of tires followed by the shutting of a door is what knocks you out of this pathetic display. A man walks over to you and begins to pick up the boxes right beside you, carrying them to the back of his truck that has the title “MOVERS” painted on its side. You clamor to your feet, disorientation doesn't help the heels strapped to your feet as you chase after him;

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going with those? Who the hell are you?”

Rancor coats your tongue as your anger spits out onto him, He stands in the middle of an empty parking lot with only the light emanating from houses and lamps decorating the street are you able to take him in. 

He was tall, perhaps 6ft, an older man. Salt and pepper hair covered just above his forehead and a stern face was complimented by equally gruff facial hair of similar color, and a frown that seemed natural for him. He wore an old jacket-- probably made in the same year you were born with plaid linings on its inside to support a Carhartt branded outside. All the clothes upon his body seemed worn, from the stained jeans and a belt fitted so many times it might as well have been made for the exact curve of his body, to the heavy worker's boots with every scratch telling a story beyond your years. He looks at you. Up and down his eyes register curiously the woman that stood before him. He scoffs, and with a low Texan drawl he replies in kind; 

“Well princess, looks here like someone was kind enough to get yourself a mover for all them boxes outside the house. ‘Supose you know where i'm to drop em off?” 

“They can stay right here.” 

It comes out of you not in a literal sense, but you guess a plea of desperation. You can't imagine that this is actually happening. You can't just leave. After all the years you spent with him, all the hours you poured into his care and the best he can do is call up some old guy to take your shit somewhere else? 

“Now you know I can't do that. I ain't come all the way down here just for’ nothin. Now, I was hired to move, least you can let me do is my job.” 

His palms outstretched to you as he finishes putting the first box in the back of his truck, looking to you with little care for what you’re properly going through, moreso just a plea to let him go home sometime before 1 in the morning. 

your breath grows uneven again, you feel something build up in you again as you just refuse to accept this. Turning your back to him, you storm over to another box untouched by him and kick it, screaming and crying and truly just making a mess of yourself as you collapse once again on the curb of the sidewalk. Folding your arms across your knees, and with a head buried deep in your chest you sit there for a moment as you listen to the crunch of his boots against the loose gravel along the pavement trail back and forth past you as each box is stored into the vehicle. 

“Still haven't given me an address. Or were ya’ thinkin' of just sitting here and lettin' me take yer’ things?” 

Irritation follows his tone as he becomes increasingly impatient about your behavior. 

“I don't have anywhere to go.” 

“Surely you got someplace. Now get a move on, I'm bout damn tired of all this.” 

He drags you up by your upper arms, feeling his calloused hands hold onto the smoothness of your body as he lifts you to your feet. Shocked though, you push him away from you in haste;

“I can get up by myself. Thank you very much.”

You dust yourself off for just a moment before continuing, he looks at you with impatience.

“And I need a ride.” 

He stammers a bit as he begins to speak, 

“A- fucking,? Damn. alright then. Just get the hell on alright? Sure you wouldn't want em’ having to pay me extra.” 

He walks back to his truck as you follow, The two footsteps upon the concrete road are all that can be heard in the neighborhood as your pain slowly wells into your chest, and the outbursts cease. 

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

“Now, listen here. We've been drivin' for damn near an hour now, and ain't nothing come of it. Where the hell am I takin you? Or I'm about to leave ya on the side of the damn road. I've got a kid at home.” 

“Just take me to the other side of town.”

“Are you fuckin kidding me? Now, I don't know what you've got goin on and I truly, don't want to. But you're real damn selfish ya know that? Makin me drive all over town like this like I'm some goddamn taxi. This place best got some money to pay me for.” 

His voice is deep, gruff, and when laced with the anger of a despondent woman who seems as if she has all the time in the world he's not keen to hold back judgment anymore. His hand grips the steering wheel firmly and doesn't look at you for a moment as he speaks to you. 

You're taken aback, to say the least. After the pain you've felt, the torment you've faced the only thing to greet you is the unwanted mouth of some old man who doesn't know what he's talking about.

“I'm selfish? You don't know the night I've had. How can you call me selfish? You were hired for a reason so why don't you just do your fucking job okay? As long as you’re getting paid it shouldn't matter a damn to you.” 

You shrug your shoulders and cross your arms in his passenger seat, watching him with disdain as he grips the wheel and drives relatively carelessly through the empty streets just to get you out. 

After a few minutes more, and by a few you mean around 30, you find yourself in front of a home you’d never think to see again truthfully. As you take in the sight of it, a simple house facing an otherwise unimpactful street, but you held memories of all your years within the confines of these blocks. You were home, after so many years away. 

“Get out.” 

He says bluntly. The clock shines a bright 1:47 on its dash, signifying that you definitely didn't meet his “before 1” pleas. But damn, could he have been any nicer about it? 

You watch as he hops out of the car himself, to the sound of a hard opening of the back that held all your belongings. And as you made your way ever so slowly out of his truck, trying to not fall as the step was coated in the darkness of the night that was no longer politely illuminated by street lights. As you made your way to the concrete below you, rounding his truck was he almost done putting your stuff back out, only on a different curb this time. And without a second to spare, he gets back into his truck, and leaves. Not a word said to you, not even an exchange.

What an asshole. 

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

“So you’re telling me, that the man you were with for how many years, kicked you out for what?” 

The voice of your childhood friend rang once more through the old walls of the house, in the kitchen where you two sat. this was her family home, one that she now inherited, and one that after many years of silence on your part, she gladly opened up to you as well. 

“We were together almost 3 years. And he just, found another girl I guess. But she was in my closet, filled with her clothes. It's as if he’d moved me out overnight. He didn't have a word to say to me, it's like I never even mattered to him. But I've told you this time and time again, what more can I even do at this point?” 

She repositions herself with her legs crossing over one another as she looks for a response, taking a sip of coffee before having it dawn on her. 

“Today. 3 pm. Uncles holding a barbeque. You remember my uncle right? Everyone will be there. Maybe we could find you a good little rebound to bring you down to earth.” 

“Are you- a rebound? Seriously? Is that all you can think of right now?” 

“Listen. The only thing you can do with a broken heart is fix it. And that doesn't happen in a day. Least you can do is get something tasty to chase the pain with. Like hot old guys. You’re only 21! This is the prime time to do whatever you want.” 

You think for a second. Letting this wash over you as you try and figure out the next thing to do. Do you really doll yourself up after the most traumatic evening of your life is not even 24 hours in your past, just to eye all of your friends older relatives, and family friends that you’ve been ogling at since you were 16? 

I mean fuck it, what else are you going to do. 

Following your friend up the stairs, she lets out an excited giggle at the prospect of having you back after so many years. There's so many things to tell, different people to see, and subsequently laugh at, but the best of all her skills with a brush have gotten much better since the last time she helped you look good. Much better, apparently for as you looked at yourself in the mirror you could barely recognize the woman looking back at you-- let alone any trace of the girl sat in a torn dress the night before screaming outside her ex’s house. 

You put on a pretty yellow dress, adorned with flowers It's hemmed all properly frilled to some level, and the flow of the skirt portion barely getting over your back end does the top also treat you well; a low neck cup to shape your chest perfectly as the daintiness of your outfit, paired with little yellow heels, made you look properly irresistible. 

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

“Guess whos backkk!!!”

The excited shrills of your friend beside you make everyone who'd arrived at the party thus far to crane their heads back to look, all of which subsequently smiled with shock as they looked upon you. None of them had seen you since you were 17, about 18 years old. That's when you left, the moment you could. Looking back you missed all of this so much, the community, the story told in every face that looked upon you. But all is lost now and the most you can do is make the best out of the time you have right now-- and as it stands you’re at the center of it all. 

They approach you by the droves, asking every question they can that have undoubtedly had rumored answers to in your absence; detailing from where you've been, what you’re doing, where you go to school, where you work, and most hurtful-- how your ex was doing. You briefly told them all that you and him had since parted, and that you were just getting back on track, spending some time at your friend's house in the meantime. They all looked upon you in sympathy, but as more people entered the party the more they dispersed to greet other guests. 

“Oh my god, is that who I think it is?” 

A low, familiar tone enters the backyard where you stand, and turning around to face you is your friend's father. Who, for most of your life was like a father to you as well. He opens his arms and you follow suit, embracing him in what feels like a much-needed hug, before setting you down again to continue talking to you. 

“Oh, honey if, if I'd known you were coming I'd have brought you something. How long has it been since I last saw you? God, you seem so grown up now. It's like I barely even know you.” 

His head moves to look behind him for a second, and soon he ushers someone forward to join in the conversation. 

“Ah, there's something I'd love for you to meet. This is a good friend of mine, Joel. I haven't had him around any of these much, he just moved back here from Texas a couple weeks back. But he's someone I've known my whole life. Kinda like you and my daughter in a way!” 

Though as the man who emerged behind him reared his head, you couldn't believe your eyes. It was him, of course, it was him. That asshole that drove you home like you were the greatest burden he's ever had to carry. 

“Yer fuckin kidding me.” 

He looks at you in shock. Nothing more. However, you see that to his side is a young girl, no older than 12 who seems to be in awe over you. Her hair was tucked into each side of her face to illuminate it in a crown of curls that came to her shoulder and stretched all the way to her ears in volume. She wore a small shark tooth necklace, and some form of singer on her shirt that you didn't recognize.

He-, Joel, looks down at her; 

“Sarah how bout you go say hi to your friends for me. I'm gonna be busy a moment” 

She runs off, and your friend's dad begins to speak again. 

“Do you, know each other from somewhere? I can't imagine you do.” 

“She's that insane little girl I told you ‘bout. The one kickin n’ screaming all over the place. Reason why Sarah hadta’ stay the night at your place.” 

“The insane little girl?” 

You chime in.

“There's no way- Joel, you’ve probably got the wrong girl” 

“No, he has the right one.” 

You stare directly at him, sending daggers into each of the brown eyes that look back at you. 

“He kicked me out of his car at almost 2 in the morning without a single word. Isn't that right?” 

Though no matter how piercing your gaze it fails to impact him as it should, for with equal level tone he snipes back; 

“Yep, after makin me drive all the way cross’ town just cause she wanted to. Knowin I got someone waitin’ for me. Clearly, something she don't understand all too much anymore.” 

That was unnecessary. 

Something brews inside of you as you glance upon his finger void of a ring, even a tan that would indicate its recent removal. Though as the only sane-minded person seemingly left to observe watches your eyes as you make such a connection, he swiftly puts an end to it. 

“Now, Joel. you know how young girls are they-” 

“I'm not that young.” 

“Alright well, they. Are just passionate, that's all. She was with him for how many was it now? Three years? Left the moment she turned of age. Clearly she just doesn't know how a mans supposed to be. This is all she really knows.” 

This is all she really knows.

That's all that rang through your head as the conversation died and Joel exchanged brief apology. That in a way, he was all you really knew. And now you’re back home, and you don't know what to do with yourself, really. You don't know what you like, or what you don't like. It was all just, him. For so long. You vowed to yourself that day that, no matter what went on you would say yes to anything. To embrace kind of, anything that came your way as some divine fate, or at the very least a fun experience. 

As the night droned on, and you fielded the barrage of squeals, hugs from people you don't remember, and a bit more liquor you could've accounted for, the night came to a slow end. Feeling eyes on you constantly was one thing, but feeling the eyes on the man with who’d you'd had a comfortable reunion was even worse in a way. Although, as you looked upon him in your own moments you saw in him something unveiled after the veil of hatred and sorrow fell off of you. Something, interesting about him. Attractive. Obviously nothing you were going to personally indulge in, but an interesting assertion nonetheless. He stood in the light of the evening, fairy lights covering the backyard as it illuminated his now more time-appropriate outfit; one of marginally better jeans and a plaid shirt, rolled to his elbows to reveal what were impressive forearms, and with the proper fit of his shirt, showed an impressive physique for a single dad.

… … …

 Thats stupid. Anyways, the night drew to a close and as you saw your friend too wrapped up in the conversation of someone relatively older than her, you decided to take the few blocks walk home, especially since you didn't have a car anymore either. Though as you exit the front door to travel down the sidewalk you hear a familiar accent call out to you after only a few feet have been made distance between you and the doorframe; 

“Ya’ walking home this late at night?” 

“Yeah, I am. Not like I've got a car do I?” 

You turn your body to look at him, but only after you've finished your sentence, using the body language of someone unequipped for any more stupid banter to cue him into leaving you alone. 

“How’s about I drive you home. Least I can do after what I’d said today. It wasent quite my place.” 

His voice has an unfamiliar tune of sympathy as he lets out that apology of sorts, so you engage. Though, begrudgingly. 

“Don’t you have a daughter to take care of? That seemed what got you so mad before.” 

He sighs a little, you notice you've hit a bit of a nerve. 

“Well, she’ll be stayin' at a friend's place for a few days, really hit it off. Got nothin but time on my hands now.” 

“Well in that case I'm not gonna say no to a free ride. Obviously.” 

You smile a bit, a first with him. Other than ones of sarcasm, every interaction you've had with him thus far hasn't been all that pleasant. And he smiles back. And, as the light of the moon shines down upon his weathered face, the smirk on his makes your smile grow even more. 

Hopping into his car once more, you take the road to your place with a little more enjoyment than how it transpired the night before. This time, the sound of his music accompanied by a hum through his car is what played to fill the silence of the atmosphere. Something old, country, of course. You’d never heard it, and it sounded well beyond even his years. But despite that, there was a comforting air that was shared in the car-- cool air blowing in from the windows rolled down, watching as his arm held on to the side of the car door from the open window, tapping its side in unison to the beat. 

“This here is it right?” 

Pulling up to your shared home you felt almost a little reluctant to respond with a yes. Though when you do, he steps out of the car as you do as well. You watch as he awaits your circle to the front where he stood, as a means to walk with you to the front of your door. Looking at him curiously as you reach the entrance, he gives response to your motions, though you watch as his fingers fiddle with one another ever so slightly as he poses such a response;

“It ain’t right leaving a lady to walk all by herself after dropping her off. And, I just wanted to say again that it ain't my place makin assumptions about you like that. Wanted to know if I could make it up to ya’. Kinda seems like lifes dealt you a bad hand right now, thought to offer you a drink over it.” 

A drink? 

You thought about that for a second. The man that kicked you out of his car, literally less than 24 hours ago, is now offering to take you out for a drink. Well, it was as a means for apology. So that's something. Nothing more to it, it's a Southern thing. They drink to anything. Especially sorrow. 

“I think I’ll have to take you up on that. You’ll know where I’ll be.” 

You reply with a smile that grows just large enough to show your teeth. He gazed at you for a bit longer, as his eyes grew brighter at the prospect of an invitation accepted. He was a lot less harsh than meets the eye, it seemed. But you still weren't properly convinced. And, there was still much a mystery about him that although intimidated you, enticed you even more. You cock your hip to the side of the doorframe, leaning up against it as he spoke to you as a means to accentuate your figure just a bit as he looked at you. Just to see what would happen. 

“Oh, alright then. 7 alright with you? I’ll come pick you up course’.” 

“Seven’s more than alright with me. I'll see you then, Joel.” 

As you bid farewell to him, you watched as his eyes tracked your movements as you did so. The way your hips have shifted place, the tone at which your voice shifted ever so slightly. He took in your gaze, a small cat eye that sharpened your eyes paired with the sly smile of a woman your age was enough to catch his stare for a moments longer than it should've. You relished in that. 

He leaves you off with a nod and a smile, though you take the time that he walks back to his truck as a means to take in all that he was without interruption. He was handsome, to say the least. There was something to be said about a man with southern hospitality and an ass made from manual labor that reached deeper into a realm of attraction that was often untapped by the men of your age range. And you enjoyed greatly that you’d discovered such a thing. 

Tomorrow, 7pm, Joel. 

[wren-kitchens]

paint me in trust

2193 words

there are endless problems that etho could have foreseen if he had been told that the new game would be to link two people's souls with each other. just the premise of that sounds terrifying—what if something broke, and suddenly your souls are just- untethered from your bodies. etho doesn't know a whole lot about how souls work, but that does not sound very enjoyable. he’s still not sure how they’re meant to unlink after this whole song and dance is over, and for his own sanity, he’s decided to assume that grian has it all handled. although- etho doesn’t actually know if grian's own soul has been mixed with mumbo's this whole time. maybe he shouldn't think too hard about that.

and it only took me 5 months to write a part 2! here's part 1 :]

it's not necessarily chapters that follow immediately after one another, but these are all in the same universe, in order. I liked the idea of a slow burn esque kind of friendship between them and chapters felt like the easiest way to do it!

the sillies ever

there are endless problems that etho could have foreseen if he had been told that the new game would be to link two people's souls with each other. just the premise of that sounds terrifying—what if something broke, and suddenly your souls are just- untethered from your bodies. etho doesn't know a whole lot about how souls work, but that does not sound very enjoyable. he’s still not sure how they’re meant to unlink after this whole song and dance is over, and for his own sanity, he’s decided to assume that grian has it all handled. although- etho doesn’t actually know if grian's own soul has been mixed with mumbo's this whole time. maybe he shouldn't think too hard about that.

on top all of this existential threat, etho is quickly learning that, when you hang out with someone who you don’t really know all too well for a little while, you run out of things to say alarmingly soon. there are only so many small talk social scripts that don't sound rude when repeated more than once. after all, if you asked someone where they were from three times, you’d either look like you weren't paying attention, or very desperate. etho thinks he’s probably reached the very desperate stage. 

it's not like he doesn’t want to talk to joel, it's just- how do you keep up conversations when neither of you have anything much to say? there's so much left unsaid in the awkward remarks about the weather and laughter at jokes that finishes too soon, but there's nothing else either of them have to contribute. which is- an enormously dull problem to have in the face of soulmates and unbreakable bonds: they've run out of things to say. etho thinks he'd rather have to worry about his soul exploding, or something.

joel, it seems, has also noticed the predicament they’re both in, because his contributions to their failing conversations are a lot more out of pocket than etho ever expects. which, to be entirely honest, ends up creating far more entertaining conversations than etho's failed attempts at civility ever have. 

"okay- well, I have to ask," 

etho looks down at joel, where he's sat against the bed, on the floor. for the past half hour, he’s been idly carving what might be a wolf into the floorboards of the ship with what might be a completely different chisel than the last four etho has seen him using since joel made the ship last week. 

"go on." etho says, a little amused.

something shifts in joel's expression, and etho wonders if he was nervous to bring this up. "where'd you get the scar?"

etho hesitates, and joel visibly considers whether he should have said it or not. "it's not- I kinda-" he tilts his head to the side, as if that could kick his brain into gear and come up with a better lie than his last one. quite frankly, he has no idea why he thought scott would believe that he fought technoblade. "it's a long story." he settles on. 

joel nods. "well, I just- I was thinking we could swap stories." he shrugs, and etho gets the impression that he’s trying to disguise how much he liked the idea. "I- y’know, I have a few scars of my own. but- I don’t wanna, like- encroach." 

"it's not- you’re not encroaching." etho can’t help but smile, against his own fruition. stupid joel. "what stories do you have?"

something lights up in joel's face, and etho feels a kind of softness in his chest. not that- it's unrelated. it's probably joel's actually- which might not be much better. whatever. it's not important. "you- I mean, they're not all that interesting, but-" he pulls up his sleeve to display what looks like a wolf bite. "that's from geraldine- y’know, my dog in 3rd life. I think she got confused, right at the end. it was just before I died."

etho leans forward to have a better look, and joel moves to sit next to etho on the bed, crossing his legs. the impulse to rest his head on joel's shoulder sticks itself in the back of etho's mind, and he very purposefully looks closer at the bite.

"it's nice." joel is saying, entirely unaware. "'s like I have a part of her with me still, y’know?"

"yeah." etho nods. "I never really thought about that- you’d lose your dogs each season."

still looking at the bite, joel hums. "I try not to think about it too hard." he grins up at etho with a lot more nonchalance than etho would expect after a sentence like that. "might go insane again." he snorts a laugh, and etho is suddenly reminded of his final moments in last life. "anyway, it's your turn."

"oh- right." etho pauses, trying to recall a scar he has that isn't followed by a very dull story. "I- well, I guess I have the one you gave me." he says, and joel cackles. 

"i’d forgotten about that." he says, watching with interest as etho pulls his clothes up enough to display the scar. "oh- wow, I did a number on you, huh? sorry about that." he adds, a little sheepish.

etho grins. "there's no hard feelings. honestly- i’m still pretty impressed." he says, dropping his clothes again. "you got cleo and me in- what, maybe thirty seconds?"

joel gives a huff of laughter, glancing at his lap, and it occurs to etho that he’s embarrassed. wow, he didn’t even know that was a thing joel could be. "yeah- well, I didn’t really- yeah." he clears his throat, and there's something familiar about it that etho can't quite place. "i didn’t expect to- to win that." he grins awkwardly.

and- alright, maybe it's a little mean, but- etho doesn’t really know joel all too well. he’s just getting to know how he works! .. by intentionally trying to embarrass him. okay- in his defence, etho was fairly certain joel was impossible to embarrass, so- he’s doing science. yeah- sure, that's what he’s gonna go with. science. 

"it was very cool." etho says, as nonchalant as he can. helpfully, he does actually mean what he's saying—even if it did end up with him dead, it was pretty impressive (if terrifying) to watch. "honestly, with you as my soulmate, we're absolutely gonna win."

much to etho's delight, joel is blushing, which- he's happy because is funny. it's funny and not- there's no other reason, okay. it's just funny. "I- you- thank you. I wouldn’t-" he meets etho's eyes, and immediately frowns. "you’re doing this on purpose, aren't you?" 

"I- no, I-" even before he’s started a full sentence, etho knows he’s not gonna convince anyone. joel raises an eyebrow at him, and he immediately caves. "it- okay, I- maybe a little, but-"

joel gives an exaggerated scoff, and etho almost laughs. "I can't believe you would do such a thing, etho." he says, far more dramatically than the situation would require, but he seems to be enjoying the drama. "actually though- why?"

it's etho's turn to blush now, and joel's eyes light up with mischievous laughter the second he sees it. "it- there's not- it's unimportant. very unimportant, actually- it's just boring."

"go on." joel grins, teeth sharp. it suits him. 

etho shoots joel a glare, but he can’t pretend to be upset in the face of joel's laughter for long. "okay, I just- you’ve never been embarrassed. that- that I could see, so I kinda- I was curious. about- y’know. how far I could push it."

there's a muted kind of warmth in the centre of etho's chest, which has to be coming from joel. the man in question just smirks. "okay, well- now you have to tell me about your eye. since you were so horrible to me."

etho hesitates. "I- okay, it's not-"

"i'll tell you about this." joel says suddenly. etho looks up, and joel pulls his shirt to the side, revealing burn scarring across all the visible skin on his shoulder. "y’know- it's a trade."

"okay- for that, you get the truth." etho pulls his mask down, not really thinking about it. joel looks a little taken aback, and it occurs to etho that joel has never seen his face before. maybe it should feel more uncomfortable, but it doesn’t. "so- I never tell anyone how I actually got it, except like- cleo and bdubs."

joel blinks, and the warm thing in etho's chest grows a little. "I- wow, i’m up there with cleo?" 

"you- well, you’re my soulmate, right?" etho says without thinking. before he or joel has time to dwell on whatever that means, he says hurriedly, "it- everyone always assumes it's some huge traumatic thing, or like- a cool fight, or whatever, but. I- yeah, I literally just tripped. I was- I managed to land directly on the corner of my furnace." he gives a huff of a laugh. 

"that- you're such a nerd, etho." joel smirks, still looking somewhat stunned. he looks pleased too though, so maybe it's a good thing. "you- and no one else knows?" 

"well," etho pulls his mask back up. "now one more person knows." he finds himself smiling at the thought.

"okay, well- hang on." joel pulls his shirt over his head, revealing far more scarring than etho expected to see. the long sleeves of joel's shirt were the only things hiding it. "i’ve got them on my legs too, but i’m not taking my trousers off." he grins. 

"I- how did you get all that?" etho leans closer, pushing his hair out of his eyes to see better. 

"you remember when cleo set my house on fire in 3rd life?" joel says, looking far happier about this story than etho thinks he ought to be. or- maybe he’s just happy to tell the story to someone. etho decides not to think too hard about it. "well, I also set on fire." he grins. "they're also from that game tango made for those diamond boots."

etho winces sympathetically. "does- does it still hurt?" he asks, surprising himself with how nervous he is. 

joel hums, running a hand over the puckered skin absentmindedly. "not really. I mean, you should know." he looks up, grinning. "soulmate and everything. it's just- it aches a little when I respawn, but.. not much." 

before etho has time to think about what he’s asking, he reaches out a hand on instinct and glances at joel. "I- can I?"

"oh- yeah. yeah, I don't- I don’t mind." joel blinks, apparently surprised. etho is hit with a wave of embarrassment, but- well, it'd be a bit awkward to back out now, wouldn’t it?

the skin is surprisingly soft underneath etho's fingers, despite how textured it is from the scarring. it's interesting- etho has accumulated several scars over the years, but he’s never seen something so large as joel's. it's kind of cool. 

joel gives a huff of a laugh, and etho looks up to see him grinning. "didn’t think it'd be that interesting." 

etho shrugs, suddenly embarrassed but not wanting to back down. "it's pretty interesting." he says, and he can’t help smiling a little as he sits back again. "like- battle scars, or something. it's a cooler story than mine." he gestures at his eye and joel cackles. 

"you said I got the 'truth'," joel says, pulling his shirt back on. "does that mean you’ve been lying to people about what happened?" 

"I- well. a little?" etho says, awkward all of a sudden, and joel grins at it. "it- I just- it's not a good story, and I kinda- it adds to the mystery if no one knows."

joel nudges him, apparently entertained—or something similar, at least. "what have you told people?"

etho glances at the wall. "I- well, I told scar I fought herobrine-" he’s very rudely interrupted by joel's laughter, apparently overjoyed to learn this about his soulmate. "it- he believed it! that's not- I can’t be blamed if he believed that."

"I did think you were mysterious at one point." joel grins, and there's a kind of comfortable amusement in his expression. it's nice. 

"what- you don’t anymore?" etho pouts, and joel cackles at it. he can’t help feeling proud of how good he is at making joel laugh. 

"not now- you told scar you fought herobrine." joel says, and etho huffs a laugh. "you’re just- you’re a dork, etho."

etho pretends to be offended, and joel cackles at all the right moments, and frankly, etho's mask is the only thing preventing him from looking even more like a dork (in joel's words- he’s not a dork, for the record) as he can’t stop himself grinning along. it's weird, but etho keeps ending up being thankful for joel's bluntness or his loudness or his ability to take up so much space in conversation when it comes to these sorts of moments- all of which he used to find annoying last season. maybe it's the soulbound being weird. 

maybe he just likes the way the ship fills with laughter whenever they talk. 

[mischiefmaker615]

The Gift (Loki Love Story) Ch.1

Note: One Shot inspired by the PIC & Prince of Egypt

Rating: R

Summary: Loki is given a particular slave as a gift for another one of Asgard's victories. 

“ANOTHER!”

Cheers, glasses smashing, clinking, laughing, music, the smell of alcohol, food and breasts threatening to poor out of tops, all held the ingredients to a stereotypical Asgardian celebration as it felt like the whole kingdom gathered to celebrate.

A battle was just won a few hours before, but to be honest, Asgard hosted these parties practically every night; mainly hosted and encouraged by King Thor who just couldn’t get enough of the party life. One could do that every day with that much power..

He sat at the head of the feast table, a large fire being the main source of light as people danced around it and sang in their native language. Slaves hustled around the pieces of broken mugs to continue serving his heart’s desires, one even being instructed to sit on his half for most of the night currently as a drunk hand inched its way up her skirts.

King yes, but he wasn’t even the one to have primarily claimed victory today. It was Loki.

Loki stayed silent, contently listening to the music in the background as he moved through the wave of guests, his slim fingers gripping the handle of his own drink which he sipped leisurely. Of course, Thor would take all the credit, having spent hours each night conducting the perfect battle plan just for his brother to rip all the recognition away. Typical.

His expression was.. expressionless, showing how years of the same situations has finally numbed him to the fact where he didn’t display his agitation anymore. He merely got the leftover. Even the whores who stumbled around, their centers sore and the alcohol still taking affect as they tried clinging themselves to him, in which he would politely wave them off and continue on.

His credit may be stolen, but his reputation with women was at least much higher than Thor’s.. whether it be true or not. Loki had absolutely no trouble bringing any woman to bed, or men. He was just subtle, even making it a game before acting as if nothing happened the day after. He didn’t wish to think of how many countless souls went through Thor’s chambers, particularly he just didn’t care.

Making his way over to his seat, regrettably it being right next to his brother, Loki raised his glass with a painted-on grin as another cheers rose through the crowds that happened seemingly every ten minutes.

‘’brother!! It is so good to see you! Where have you been lurking?” Thor slurred with a lopsided grin as Loki sat down in his seat, his green came spreading behind him as he relaxed for once with much less annoyance.

‘’settling the score brother’’ Loki smirked, an innuendo that he had just gotten back fucking someone as his gaze ran over the woman hanging onto Thor’s neck with her lips latched on to his skin. ‘’are you still trying to get this one to bed?”

Thor laughed as his grip on her thigh tightened a little, causing her to squirm a little as he looked at his brother casually. ‘’sometimes you just need to enjoy the build up deal brother, and how could I leave now when I have something for you?”

Loki raised a brow, his body tensing out of instinct as these things usually come without enjoyment for himself. ‘’oh a gift brother? You shouldn’t have.’’ He says dryly and finishes his cup, holding it up as a maid seemed to span out of nowhere to refill it.

‘’why of course! It might seem like it, but I can’t take all the credit for todays victory’’ Thor grinned as Loki’s brows raised at his willingness to share. ‘’I know you were the intelligence for the plan that was executed, let me give you something out of gratitude’’ he said and stood, the poor woman yelping in surprise as she caught herself on her feet and Thor moved her away as if she was no more than a piece of broken cup that scattered amongst the floor.

By two claps, the music died down immediately as everyone’s attention moved to king Thor, grins and conversations coming to a hush as Thor stood up with his mug.

‘’my dear friends! Today has been yet another victory for Asgard!”’ he yelled, raising a mug as everyone cheered and did the same. ‘’but we cannot forget that it wouldn’t have been possible without my little brother’s skillset for ‘element of surprises’’’ Thor grinned and waved a hand towards Loki who calmly sipped at his drink, his expression seeming like he wasn’t paying attention at all as cheers erupted again.

‘’and so to celebrate his actions, I have a gift to bestow upon him!’’ Thor boomed and waved a hand across the room at awaiting guards whom understood the signal and opened the doors.

At least three guards came in, one of them holding onto a rope that stretched behind them where they didn’t seem bothered to look back as they moved forward, pulling on it.

Loki’s brow raised, forgetting to hide his wonder as his cup slowly lowered from his mouth and he subconsciously leaned forward in his chair.

The guards pulled in a woman, about a foot shorter than him with features that resembled nothing like those in this realm. Her wrists were bound, having been tied with the other end of the rope as the guards pulled and she stumbled along, barefoot and with a servants dress that stopped mid-thigh with very thin and plain material. Her skin was milk white, her hair platinum silver that hung down to her mid waist and didn’t hide her long, pointy ears while her eyes held an almost crystal blue hue. They were wide, fearful, and full of wonder of what might happen in the next few moments that seemed to match Loki’s expression as well.

‘’we’ve pulled her from the dungeons, found from the forbidden sands of Alfheim years ago. She held the title of ambassador, representing her royals before she stumbled upon forbidden grounds of Asgard.’’ Thor announced, the booze affecting the dramatic build up he hoped to have advertised for her as his eyes flashed a little to hers. ‘’trespassing it never taken lightly.’’

Loki’s expression was hidden well but his eyes gazed upon her with pity and curiosity. She carried Elf blood, and her features- although tired and broken- still held its representation of how powerful and beautiful her people were. She sank to her knees, out of fear or exhaustion, he didn’t know. But she looked about her in all angels as if she were a dog being tormented by a pack. Raising his glass to his lips, Loki’s eyes never left her as he sat back in his chair calmly.

‘’a dungeon whore, how thoughtful brother.’’

‘’only the very best for my little brother,’’ Thor grinned, a hand slapping down on his shoulder with excitement as he looked upon the slave as if it actually for him.

Quite frankly, Loki wouldn’t be surprised if Thor had used her up first, but with the way her eyes looked about with curiosity, wonder and fear, he knew she was unharmed in where she had stayed all these years below Asgard. Of course that was the catch.. Thor couldn’t even provide him with a victory whore and found it better suitable to pull one from the dungeons of Asgard. He probably could just throw her back in later and Thor wouldn’t ask him about it the next day. With the way he swayed and slurred, he might not even remember this feast when the night was through.

‘’thank you brother, to another victory.’’ Loki said simply and raised his cup for dismissal of this whole thing and Thor raised his cup with a grin towards the crowd.

‘’to Asgard!’’

‘’TO ASGARD!’’ everyone cheered and the music began again with dancing, drinking and feasting.

Thor looked over to the guards and waved a hand with an excited smile. ‘’see to it she is taken to Loki’s chambers, have her prepared.’’

Loki’s eyes closed in almost annoyance, hating having to go through such unnecessary and unwanted happenings but at least it was a good excuse to leave this party. Standing up, he hit Thor on the back with much less equal force and fainted a smile. ‘’thank you brother, I shall take my leave for the night.’’

‘’enjoy brother’’ Thor grinned and turned back to the festivities as if nothing had happened.

Back to being invisible. When it came to such things like this, it was preferred. Now that the whole room thought Loki would be ‘taken care of’ tonight, no whore would try to hang off him but did eye him with flirtatious wants. He flashed them his famous smirk, his cape flowing behind him as he passed and his grin didn’t drop until he was finally alone in the halls, making his way to his chambers.

Perhaps this woman will be a good way to take his mind off of today’s unnecessary happenings. 

Part 2

Tag List: @foxherder  @asgards-princess-of-mischief @fire-in-her-veinz

[aheathen-conceivably]

Josephine was sitting at the vanity table that Giorgio had restored for her, tracing her hand along the same wood grain that she had when she arrived over two years before. Only her nails weren’t painted any longer; they were bare and chipped, fingers permanently raw from hours of soaking and scrubbing.

She was staring at them intently, like their presence alone was enough to make her feel like she was a different woman than who she thought she had been her whole life. Out of the corner of his eye Giorgio could see that she was lost in thought, a small downturned frown playing on her lips. He barely had time to register just how unlike herself she seemed before she blurted out, “Do you ever think about having children?”

Gio nearly choked on the cigarette he had just lit. There were certain things he had given up on when he fell in love with her, things that he now told himself were for the best. He looked up at her suspiciously, now wary of the traps he knew she could set. The lost look in her eyes was vacillating with something that looked like what, suspicion? Like she didn’t trust him to answer correctly despite his years of acquiescence on the topic.

But as she addressed him through the warped glass, he got the impression that she wasn't actually speaking to him at all, “It would be stupid, you know that, right? Violette would hate it. She could learn to share, I know. But something tells me she wouldn’t. She would only get worse.”

Then she turned to look him dead in the eyes, and he realized he had been right. She was challenging him, even though he had only recently told her that he didn’t mind her near militant precautions against pregnancy any more now than he had in New Orleans. As she spoke her resolve became more palpable and the uncharacteristic insecurity that had been there moments before was replaced by something he was more familiar with: anger. “And Jesus Christ we can barely feed ourselves as it is. It would be stupid. Absolutely stupid. Why would anyone ever think otherwise? It’s a horrible, horrible idea.”

As she finished speaking she continued to stare straight at him, and he had to look away to escape the intensity of her eyes. It was nothing that he didn’t know; she had told him from day one that she would never have children, not for any love in the world. He had been young enough then to want nothing other than her, and over time his feelings had morphed into hers. It was never a dream he had, and it wasn’t as though he had a name he was proud to pass on. He had come here to hide from it, and it had done nothing but convince him that he would have no more sons to pass the name or the horrors onto. 

As he gathered himself to look at her, his eyes cut through the tension that hung in the air like cigarette smoke. Because he had said it all a dozen times before, and that look was all she needed to know that he agreed; not just with her logic, but even to her aversion of having your life taken from you in that way, so that your dreams and your choices were no longer for yourself anymore. They would always have to be made in adherence to someone else, and they could barely do that for each other, much less a child.

He put his lit cigarette in the ashtray the moment she stood to walk nearer. Up close, the challenge in her eyes transformed into something like relief, like she had sated a fear that for however much he might ask her to give, at least he would never ask for that. Or maybe, unbeknowst to him, she had just talked herself off a ledge that he would never know had been an option at all.

She placed her hands on his shoulders, bringing one knee onto the bed beside him and the other one between his legs. His breath caught in his throat as his body responded to the movement, “Are you…sure? I thought we still couldn’t. I — I lost count of the days.”

Her voice took on a soft note of mockery, exactly the way it did when she knew more than the other person, “As you always do.”

He took that to mean that they were once again free to do as they pleased for a few weeks, before the cycle of counting and caution began all over again. Yet even after all this time those days in the center of the month went by the slowest, so he immediately hooked his hand around her hips to pull her down on top of him.

She left one foot on the ground as she gave into his weight, letting him move her robe aside and bring his hands to her thighs. All the while she was sure to remain balanced on the tip of her foot, keeping herself from giving in completely even as she climbed far enough atop of him to let him think that it was fully off the ground.

Then she leaned back onto it, leaving him stranded on the bed as she moved her hand off of his neck, down his shirt front, and just above the button of his pants. She took it between her fingers and kept her eyes on his, silently telling him that she could unhook it without ever looking down, “But I never do; and I don’t make mistakes. So not until I say so, my love. Then, and only then.”

As his smile faded, she trailed her hand back up his shirtfront to his chin, letting it linger on his lips before she bent down to kiss him. He knew better now than to try and pull her down again, or even to bring his hands to her hips as they hovered above him. She moved away and looked down into his eyes as though to say, good boy. Then she walked away back to her well-worn seat at the vanity, leaving him with nothing but his half smoked cigarette and unspent longing.

Previous / Next

[superblysubpar]

We'll Call It Love masterlist | It Had To Be You masterlist

the song: Kiss Me by Sixpence None The Richer // It Had To Be You playlist

warnings: this story is a part of the series We’ll Call It Love, and much of it would be spoiled if you read this first. It’s linked above, and I hope you love it! | series warnings pertain | Steve's parents are DICKS | A little foreplay action, but no real smut warnings aside from a small ass slap - oh and a there if you squint breeding kink hint for one sir steve harrington

2.7k words

A/N: I've hoped you've liked the first two little stories before this and maybe you're catching on to the theme now? There's two more after this one, and I hope they wrap up things for this little world nicely for you. This one in particular, is what started the whole idea of this collection of stories randomly? Don't tell the others, it might be my favorite. There was a very real incident with myself and green paint and my husband finding me in the state similar to reader 😳, I have @loveshotzz and @sweetsweetjellybean to love always and thank for convincing me to make it into a little fic, which obviously turned into more 💛

He sees the familiar girl sitting alone at the bar, and he weaves his way around dimly lit tables and people dressed as fancy, if not more so, than he is. He slides onto the stool next to her, resisting the urge to run his hand through his gelled hair. 

“Hey, I’m so sorry I’m late.” 

Leigh waves off his apology with her perfectly manicured hand as she takes a sip of the martini in front of her. Rolling her eyes big with a smile around the rim. 

Steve raises two fingers to get the bartender’s attention from the end of the rich wood counter as she swallows. 

“I just figured you decided to not go through with it, was gonna give you another half hour before I called your dad to tattle on you.”

Steve’s stomach tenses, knuckles tapping the counter as he grimaces. 

Leigh’s hand rubs his shoulder, speaking softly, “Hey I was just kidding. What’s going on in that big, Harrington brain, huh?”

The bartender lays a cocktail napkin in front of Steve, nodding as he orders, raising three fingers, “Macallan.” Before he turns to look at her. 

Kind eyes and an understanding smile he blows out his breath and quietly asks, “You really want to do this?”

Leigh shrugs, her hand slipping from his shoulder to grab the martini again, taking another large gulp. 

“I’m still down if you are?”

Steve nods, fingers swiping down the glass that’s set in front of him as he stares into the amber liquid and thinks about you. 

“You sure? Last time I saw you at that benefit thing, you talked about moving to Northern California and working for that environmental law firm. You just…don’t seem like the kind of girl that wants to work for her dad forever and do…this?” 

He sort of gestures pathetically to himself which Leigh snorts at, pressing her palms to flushed cheeks. 

Steve closes his eyes, shaking his head, “I didn’t mean, I mean I know you, we did, like five years ago, but that-”

“Steve,” Leigh interrupts, laughing. 

“Sorry.” He rubs at his eyes, fingers freezing when she sighs. 

“So, who is she?”

Steve opens his eyes to see Leigh’s all knowing gaze and smirk and he folds almost instantly telling her your name. 

“We sort of had…a date? Last weekend? Except it wasn’t a date,” he sips on his drink, finishing the story of the two of you with the most recent events while Leigh sits and listens patiently. 

He shakes his head as something in his stomach sinks at the same time his heart starts beating harder when he thinks about last weekend.

“Because, we don’t date, or she doesn't want to date, and then we had sex, and like, good sex. I’ve never had that kind of sex, sex…like emotional? But I don’t think…I can’t wait for her to…choose me? Because what if she never does, right? Isn’t that the cardinal rule of dating? Don’t think you can change someone?”

He hates how much he’s talking, how much of his guts he’s literally just spilling all over the place, but he’s needed to talk about it for a long time, and he certainly can’t tell Robin. 

Leigh sips her martini thoughtfully before she asks, “Does she know about this?” She gestures between the two of them. 

Steve shakes his head, swallowing before he quietly admits, “Nobody does, well, no, I told Robin I was dating you. Because she kept pestering me about what was going on and I…”

He trails off, at a loss for words as Leigh hums. 

“Well, that’s problem number one right there buddy. It sounds like you’re asking her to open up and you’re keeping some things heavily guarded too.”

Leigh glances at her watch and hops off the stool, smiling, “I have that dinner with a client. And I think you have a lot of thinking to do tonight Steve Harrington. I’ll see you tomorrow, whatever you decide.”

She kisses his cheek and Steve turns towards his glass, downing the last of it as he pulls out his phone and opens your contact. 

Steve: Hey could we talk tonight? We could go out? Or I could come over? You: I’m sorry, I really want to but I’m sick. 

He stares down at the text back from you the whole ride up the elevator and down his hallway. Are you actually sick? Or are you avoiding him because last weekend scared you? 

His key turns in the lock too easily and he closes his eyes as he pushes open his already unlocked front door, taking a deep breath before he steps inside. 

John Harrington frowns at the bottle of Scotch in his hands, eyes narrowed at the bar in his son’s apartment. 

“Is this all you have?”

“Hey dad, long time no see. I’m doing great, thanks for asking.”

His father rolls his eyes in an eerily familiar way and Steve turns to the cabinet above his fridge, and pulls down the bottle for his father. 

“Happy Birthday,” Steve grumbles.

John eagerly takes it, “Ah! Yes.”

Thank you son, you’re the greatest. No problem dad, glad you like it. 

His dad finally looks at him and frowns. “Is that what you wore for your drinks with Leigh?”

Steve looks down at his custom made and fitted three piece suit, tie, Italian loafers, leather belt, and cufflinks and a watch that all cost more than his college tuition. 

“I-”

“Your mom is hanging up the suit for tomorrow in your closet, why don’t you go let her pick out a better tie for din-”

Steve’s already power walking past his dad, hurriedly trying to make sure his mother is not in his closet, but it’s too late. 

The sliding door gives him an easy view of his mom, who’s holding the picture nobody really knows about. Steve looks over his shoulder and thankfully his father has sat himself down on the couch, turning on the news. 

Steve carefully and quietly closes the closet door behind him, whispering, “Mom, I can explain-”

“You went to college?” Her voice is hoarse as her fingers trail over the tassel and degree. 

He swallows, fingers curled into fists at his sides as he lets out a shaky breath.

“Yeah. I did.”

Vivian Harrington nods, and when she looks up at her son, he feels like she’s sort of seeing him for the first time in his life. 

Her eyes that match his are glassy, and her head tilts as if she’s taking in his features like she doesn’t really know him at all. Maybe she doesn’t. But it’s that look that gives him the courage to keep going.

“Can I have a rain check on dinner? There’s somewhere I need to be tonight. Someone I need to see.”

Maybe his mom sees something in his eyes, or hears it in his tone, but the way her eyes travel over his face, searching, it’s easy to see when understanding falls across her features.

“Sure, honey.” She puts the picture back down with a sad smile, her voice hesitant but forceful at the same time as she asks, “But we’ll see you tomorrow? For the brunch?”

He knows she’s not really asking and he nods.  

“Yeah, of course.”

So when it’s her name flashing across his phone when you wake him up, the guilt washes over him. He doesn’t know what to do. 

He locks his phone and closes his eyes, thinking about everything you told him last night. 

Thinking about how you said that nobody could have a love like them. That it’s a love story you witness once. How since then, you haven’t believed in it or even tried to. 

“I’m sorry, I gotta go, my parents are here and…” he sighs, touching his forehead to yours, willing you to just tell him right now. Willing himself to just take the leap. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Your fingers circle around his wrist as you whisper sleepily to him. 

He could spend his whole life waiting for you to never change your mind. 

Never really getting every part of you. Not the way he wants. 

As much as it hurts, as much it will keep hurting for a long time, he wants all of you, or nothing at all. 

Steve looks at your lips before he kisses them, trying to memorize how soft they are against his own. How it just seems to work. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll…I’ll see you at the game later. I…” 

He groans as his phone buzzes in his pocket and he kisses you so quickly, too quickly, and then he’s gone. And he’s worried he’s never going to get to kiss you again. 

Steve answers the phone as he shuts your front door. “I’m sorry, I’ll be there in-”

“Did you get it out of your system?” 

Steve stops in the hallway, gulping, “What?”

“Did you get it out of your system?”

He bangs his forehead against the wall, fingers clenching around the vest and jacket he holds. Steve’s jaw is tense, stomach tight as he blinks away the damp feeling pooling in his eyes. 

“I don’t know.”

“Steven-”

“I’ll see you soon.”

He hangs up and walks to the stairwell. 

What the fuck is he supposed to do?

“Jesus fucking christ!” 

Your hand is over your heart, a brush dropped in the bucket of paint, and your boyfriend smiles from the other side of the makeshift dog gate. 

“Don’t do that!” You squeal, only half mad he almost scared you to literal death standing in the doorway all ominous, but overall you’re ecstatic to see him, your heart racing faster than it should for both reasons. You turn down the music you were blaring and singing along to loudly so he can hear you. “What are you doing here? You weren’t supposed to be home till Monday!”

Steve’s looking at you from the other side of the gate with this intense look that makes an entire box of bouncy balls dump out inside of your stomach. 

“What?” You ask nervously, looking around the room that’s half painted and back at him as you take a few steps towards the doorway.

He seems to visibly shake a thought from his brain, his cheeks turning pink as he clears his throat. 

“Nothing, I, uh, like the color.” 

Your body fills with heat as you take a few steps closer to him, both of you staring up and down each other’s bodies a little hungry, a little impatiently. 

“Yeah?” You’d be embarrassed by how soft and girly your question comes out except Steve is clearly thinking and feeling things, his fingers curling around the doorframe a little tighter with each step you take, which only spurs you on to tack on, “I know you said the office could be whatever color, and when I was standing in front of the paint samples, this one spoke to me. Made me think about a shirt this guy I really like wears.”

“Oh?” He asks, fingers reaching forward so his thumb can brush across your cheek. It feels a little rough and you’re certain he’s tracing over paint you somehow managed to get on your face. 

You hum, stomach warm from the feeling of his skin touching yours after so long apart. Your eyes greedily take in the scruff on his jaw that he’s let grow and the deeper tan his skin has. The numerous new freckles you swear he didn’t have when he left. Your mouth waters a little bit as your eyes wander to his covered up arms and shoulders, impatient to find out how many more there are.  

“It’s kind of like the olives he hates on his pizza too.”

Steve’s fingers roam down your neck, thumb dragging on the chain hidden under his white shirt. 

“Sounds like a smart guy for hating those disgusting things,” he softly banters. 

“Mm, debatable. It’s also kind of like the green in his eyes.”

Your body leans over the gate, closer to him, fingers reaching for the collar of his shirt till your noses bump each other’s. It’s hard to breathe, when all you can smell is cedar and mint and practically taste the coffee on his lips he must have been drinking to stay awake.

“Well, he sounds like quite a guy, to inspire a whole room’s paint color.” Steve speaks slowly, one hand around the back of your neck, the other dragging down the curves of your side as you both breathe sharply, the small space between your mouths electric. 

“He’s okay,” you offer with a shrug. 

“I like the overalls,” Steve ignores you, nose running down the bridge of yours as he nudges closer.

“Thanks, they were my mom’s when she was pregnant with me.”

Steve’s eyes flash from that comment, his adams apple bobbing in a loud and harsh swallow. 

“Oh?”

You giggle, your top lip hitting his in a brief pass and it’s intoxicating. 

“Easy tiger. Not in the cards just yet.”

“But it is, someday?” He squeezes at your waist, bottom lip just barely bumping between yours, his head tilting just barely to get a better angle. 

“Sure. Play those cards right and when the time comes…”

Steve’s lips slot over yours, his hands pull at the back of your neck and waist until you’re both pressed up against the gate. 

His tongue swipes over your bottom lip lightly, teasing, as his fingers brush down your jaw and he breaks away from you, breathing heavily. 

“I missed you so much.”

“You’re never leaving for that long again.”

You both laugh into another kiss as you speak at the same time. Refusing to part your mouths as you try to climb over the gate causing it and both of you to clatter to the ground. Inigo comes racing from the bedroom where he was sleeping. 

He runs at Steve, panting happily and jumping onto his chest from your tangled pile on the ground. 

“Hey buddy, I missed you too,” Steve laughs, squeezing his eyes closed and trying to dodge the lab’s tongue. 

“Dude, he is my boyfriend. Also you’re such a traitor, you never greet me like this.”

“Are you talking to me or the dog?” Steve laughs as Inigo wiggles and yips on his stomach when you push yourself up to standing. 

“Where are you going?” He calls after you.

“To get the peanut butter kong so he’ll be busy for hou-Steve!”

He’s snaked his arms around you, pulling your back to his chest forcefully. His mouth attacks your neck and cheeks and jaw from behind. Hot and wet open mouthed kisses you giggle at which only makes him do it more. 

Steve squeezes his arms around you, holding your ass tighter against his clearly worked up lower half as you stumble towards the freezer with him behind you still. Inigo makes it all the more difficult as he races around your legs. 

“Steve, babe…” you moan as his mouth slows down, warm lips pressing right behind your ear as his fingers work on the buckles of the overalls. 

He hums, pushing you up against the counter next to the fridge a little rough, a little dirty with the way his mouth and teeth and tongue are working on your neck. Your fingers slip on the counter, searching for purchase. “I love you, so much, really-fuck.”

Inigo barks at the base of the freezer, reminding you of why you’re telling Steve to stop. 

“I love you too, why do I feel like there’s a but coming though?” He pulls at the overalls, until they’re dropping at your ankles leaving you in his white shirt and black panties that he groans at, slapping at your ass and grabbing at each cheek with both hands as his nose drags down the back of your neck. 

“You gotta go wash your face and hands before we keep going, you smell like Inigo’s breath and your fingers cannot be inside of me after-”

“I hate this dog!” He proclaims, stomping down the hallway, grumbling a shouted, “He seems a decent fellow, I hate to kill him!”

Inigo cocks his head adorably at you, tail thumping against the tile. You pull out the red overstuffed with peanut butter kong and give it to him, patting his head as you whisper. “That does seem to put a damper on your relationship, but don’t worry buddy, he loves you.”

And you race down the hallway towards Steve in your bathroom shouting, “How dare you threaten my dog Harrington. Prepare to die!”

[ternfic]

The Atlantis Expedition

Chapter Twelve: Dust and Shadows

It had been quite a trick to get Business to leave the other room, nearly ending with Metalbeard physically hauling him out. He’d insisted on them letting him at least finish taking pictures first- the walls were covered with texts carved or painted onto them, and he was eager to translate them. “Why don’t ye give that brain of yers a rest?” the captain suggested, looking rather concerned.

“You seriously expect me to be able to sleep when I have something this fascinating to study??” Business protested. “What if there’s clues in here on the temple? I didn’t find much at the last one, you know.”

“…Ye’ve got two hours,” Metalbeard allowed.

“Would you mind doing it in the captain’s cabin?” Emmet asked. “I’m ready to crash.” He emphasized it with a yawn and a stretch.

“Sure,” Business agreed easily, and practically ran back onto the ship to get started.

“I’ll keep watch with you,” Bad Cop told the pirate.

“Ye sure about that, lad?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gone forty-eight hours or longer without sleep. I’m pretty well used to it. Besides, I don’t think I can sleep either, not with the threat of those sky pirates out there.”

Metalbeard waited until the rest of their friends had retreated to their cabins for the night before speaking again. “Avoidin’ sleep ain’t the way to go about fixin’ yer nightmare problem.”

“That’s not it,” Bad Cop sighed. “I just have a lot on my mind tonight. I promise.”

“Well, alright then…” Metalbeard didn’t speak again, picking up on his introspective mood, and decided to leave him be.

The dizzy spells were increasing in frequency, but with them were coming back vague bits and pieces of memories, so old he wasn’t certain of the reality of them, but something about his current situation just felt familiar. Like when he and Alastar were just toddlers, still trying to figure out how to switch out with each other. Dizziness had been common then, back when they hadn’t been quite strong enough mentally yet to manage it.

It was unnerving. Good Cop was still gone, he could feel his twin’s absence clearly. So why did it feel like… he might have someone to share headspace with again…?

It was a terrifying, reckless, and stupid idea, but he did it anyway. He closed his eyes and ‘reached’ back into his own mind, searching. Hello? Alastar, please tell me if that’s you…

…hI.

He sucked in a sharp breath, going rigid. It was a good thing Metalbeard had wandered away some time ago; he could not deal with the questions right now, he had too many of his own. Letting out a shaky breath he raked his fingers through his hair, trying to calm his rattled nerves.

He was going to have to speak with Lucy at some point the next day.

Even with two of their toughest keeping watch for the night, between the anticipation of an attack and the excitement of exploring the new temple, no one rested easily. Everyone was up bright and early the next morning, even Benny. Business was still poring over the photos at the breakfast table, scribbling down translations as fast as he could decipher them. “What did you find out?” Benny asked, sitting next to him to peer at his notes.

“That machinery you guys repaired last night? That’s some pretty heavy-duty stuff- it looks like it might cause the entire temple to shuffle and reform its layout, something like a giant Rubik’s cube.”

Emmet’s eyes went wide. “No way, that’s awesome!”

“I also found this.” He opened the photo gallery on his tablet and flicked it to a certain image.

“It just looks like the same carvings that were all over that room,” Lucy said. Wordlessly, Business zoomed in to reveal a cleverly hidden hole.

“It looks like a keyhole!” Unikitty exclaimed. “Maybe that’s what the Thing is for?”

Bad Cop sat at the end of the table, mug of coffee in hand, sipping at it as the others crowded around Business’ notes, only half paying attention to the conversation. “Hey,” Benny said suddenly and he jumped, because what the heck, wasn’t he just at the other end of the table? The astronaut snickered. “I thought spacing out was my thing,” he teased, and Bad Cop scowled at him. “Seriously though, you okay? You’re not falling asleep on us, are you?”

“I’m fine,” he grumbled.

“You don’t look fine,” Benny persisted. “In fact you look downright distracted.”

“It can wait, Ben.”

“Well, if you say so…”

“Look,” Bad Cop relented. “I wasn’t lying when I said I was concerned about those sky pirates catching up to us. Let’s just get this temple figured out, and then I’ll talk when we’re on our way to the next, alright?”

Benny grinned, floating upward. “Fair enough. Let’s go!”

Breakfast was hastily finished, and they hurried back into the temple. Lucy took off the chain with the key on it, sliding it in where Business pointed out. As soon as it was in place, something clicked, and she quickly yanked it back out as the door began to slide aside. Almost immediately the entire structure began to shudder, and they hurried through the opened door. Emmet nearly lost his footing when the floor gave a sudden lurch and the room started to slide. “Whoa!”

As soon as the temple settled again, another door opened, showing the way through. Business grinned. “Game on!” he shouted, and ran through the open doorway. The next room had three closed doors, each with a hole that matched Lucy’s key.

“Which one do we pick?” Unikitty asked.

“I don’t think it really matters,” Business answered. “From what I was able to translate, there is no wrong path, just different challenges.”

“Let’s open the one to the left then,” Lucy decided, and unlocked it. They continued on through the temple, every other room having a locked door or a building-related puzzle to solve. Every time they completed a challenge, the temple would reshuffle itself.

“I’m starting to wonder if this is a test of our patience as well,” Bad Cop grumbled. “How long have we been at this now? I lost count.”

“I be gettin’ the feeling we’re nearly done.”

“Guys, look! There it is!” Unikitty shouted as the last door slid open. “We reached the heart of the temple!”

“Oh thank goodness.” It was much like the sealed-off chamber in the first temple, nearly identical in its layout. Unikitty made straight for the magic generator to turn it on, as Business took photos of the script on the walls. She waited until the secret compartment popped open, revealing another key, this one made of stone and copper and rubies. She conjured another chain for it, and Lucy slipped the key onto it.

“You want to take this one, Unikitty?”

“Sure!” she chirped, and Lucy slipped it around her neck. Unikitty struck a pose, grinning, as Business turned his tablet in her direction to get a picture of the key. He chuckled as he turned it around to show her. “Ooh, that’s a good one,” she preened.

Benny floated over when Metalbeard made a sound of frustration. “What is it?”

“These symbols! They’re not makin’ any sense to me! There ought to be a map here, I’ve no idea what this nonsense be!”

The astronaut snickered. “Easy there, captain, we’ll figure it out.”

“I got a picture,” Business offered, holding up his tablet. “I think everyone’s a little frazzled from this gauntlet run right now, we can give it another look in the morning.” Lucy unlocked the door at the opposite side of the room, revealing a spiraling staircase back down to the main chamber. They had barely set foot outside of the temple when they were caught off guard by a sudden blast, and Metalbeard collapsed.

“Not again!” the cyborg captain howled in outrage.

The sky pirates descended en masse, half the crew holding the Master Builders at gunpoint while the other half searched them. Airheart smirked at them. “Fancy meeting you all here,” she drawled. Bad Cop’s fists were clenched, and Unikitty flashed scarlet. She barely managed to refrain from losing her temper; trashing robots was one thing, but she couldn’t afford to cause that kind of damage to living people. “No chair this time, Bad Cop?”

“No one invited you,” Benny growled. “Get lost.”

“Oh we will, just as soon as we have what we came for. Ah! My, those are nice necklaces you have there, ladies. Hope you don’t mind me helping myself.”

Lucy assumed a defensive pose, to a chorus of guns clicking. “We’d mind quite a bit.” Just as she wound up to strike, a shot fired near her foot, and she froze. Those weren’t the lasers that Bad Cop used, that just hurt a lot if one hit you. Those were actual bullets. Airheart smirked at her.

“Now you’re getting the picture,” she said, and snatched the chain from around Lucy’s neck. Unikitty’s was next, and she plucked Business’ tablet from his hands as well, despite his protests. “Thanks for the gifts, darlings, we’ll put them to good use!” She blew them a kiss before once more boarding the Sky Rogue, her crew keeping their guns trained on the Master Builders as they followed.

As soon as they were clear, Unikitty screamed in rage, kicking up sand and stone in her fury. Bad Cop made a beeline for his car, and let out a wordless snarl when it wouldn’t start. Benny pouted when his spaceship yielded the same results. There was no chance of pursuit that time.

Emmet watched helplessly as Benny and Metalbeard sulked, and Bad Cop kicked his chair across the deck. “…What should we do now?”

“Nothin’ we can do but wait,” Metalbeard grumbled. Emmet helped Benny and Bad Cop get Metalbeard seated upright. “Smart lass, using that electro-magnet thing to slow us down rather than an actual cannon.”

“She must know we’re Master Builders,” Lucy guessed. “She would have guessed we’d have the holes patched up quickly enough.”

“My spaceship…” Benny whined, and Bad Cop grumbled in agreement.

“Oh, ease up you two, I’ve got plenty of spare parts to repair them both,” Business waved them off. “I kept them in my EMP-proof case, after Metalbeard mentioned her using it that first time, I thought she might favor that weapon and took precautions.”

“And what good will that do in getting us that tablet back?” Bad Cop snapped. “By the time we’re done, she’ll be long gone!”

“It really is a good thing I was the last one out of the temple.” Business gave him a smug smirk as he slipped his smart phone from his pocket, flipping it up for Bad Cop to see. “The miracle of technology. I have them synched.” He brought up the picture of Unikitty with the key and shoved the device at his former henchman. Bad Cop instinctively grasped it, blinking at it.

“What good is a picture of the key going to do?” he growled after a moment.

“Uh, we’re surrounded by Master Builders. Masters of matter manipulation and creativity? They can just make a replica of it. Duh.”

Said Master Builders stared at him in something rather like awe. “That’s… that’s brilliant, actually,” Lucy said.

Business snorted at that. “I told you this isn’t my first rodeo.”

Bad Cop was silent for a long moment as the idea sank in. He handed the phone back with a soft “thank you, Sir.” Business stared; it was the most civil and respectful the cop had been toward him since Takos Tuesday.

Benny, having perked up at the news that his spaceship could be easily repaired, floated over to put a hand on Bad Cop’s shoulder. “You know, you’ve been awfully tense today, are you alright?” Bad Cop pointedly stared at Business, and Business promptly made himself scarce, muttering something about going to grab his case to get started on those repairs. “Come on man, you promised you’d tell me when we were done with the temple,” Benny reminded him.

“I did, didn’t I,” Bad Cop sighed. “Alright, but let’s grab Lucy first, I’ll need her help to get this sorted out.”

The astronaut looked confused. “Why Lucy?”

“You think I didn’t do my research on you Master Builders?” Bad Cop rolled his eyes. “Vitruvius was a master at delving into mindspaces. Lucy was his best student.”

“Ohh, I see.” Benny frowned. “Wait, you need her to go mindspace-diving?” The frown quickly melted into a look of astonishment. “OH! Does that mean Good Cop’s making a comeback?!” He bounced eagerly.

“…No.”

“What?”

“Lucy first, Ben.”

“Ohh, alright…”

[amaleu-antmat]

The case files of Jeweler Richard vol 8 spoiler

Part 4

(Actually, this wasn't really a part I particularly liked, but the piece I like is right after and if you don't know what happens here you won't understand so I will write about this as well!)

The next day, Seigi goes to the market with Catherine, and after putting what they bought in the car, Seigi notice someone following them. While they are inside the moving car, a man with unkempt white hair crammed in a hunting cap, with overalls was running after them. Seigi tells Catherine that, and she looks behind and in the mirror but sees no one. Feeling strange they circle around again but don't see the old man.

Seigi "what was that?"

Catherine "Don't worry it happens sometimes. Rude people chasing after me. I'm just too beautiful"

Seigi tries to reassure her and say that if anything happens, he will deal with it, but Catherine says that she isn't worried.

Catherine acts as if the thing didn't affect her at all, but Seigi thinks about Richard in that moment, about how when he gets nervous, the rhythm of his speech and gesture would change slightly, and the places his gaze would settle on. He thinks that if the same goes for her, then she might be flustered right now and that she wouldn't like to let that show exactly like Richard. Seigi tactfully doesn't point that out. "Sorry, I just kind of got a feeling"

Catherine "You really are a kind boy, Seigi. Merci, Mon chevalier."

(Mother-son really are similar in many ways, even calling him their knight)

When they get back at the mansion, they find a note that said that Richard went to the library, Catherine tells him to not worry, and that he probably went by bike. As you will need a car to actually go to the place where you can rent a car....

Richard left a second note addressed to him in which he said that he finished searching the first floor for marbles, Seigi guesses that Richard made progress with the riddles and that his job now was to do the manual labor necessary to go about their daily lives. Catherine went to exercise her dragonfly acting or something she planned to show them. Seigi is thinking about preparing lamb for dinner, but since it was still early and he didn't know when Richard would be back, he went to the garden with a hand rake and ran in one of the rude neighbours, he think <maybe they came to invite for an aperitif again? Unfortunately, Catherine is busy at the moment>

Seigi "I'm sorry, the owner isn't available right now"

Rude woman "You paint walls?"

Seigi is shocked by the sudden question and doesn't understand for a moment, he thinks that they are struggling to communicate with each other again (they met again when buying things at the market, they were terribly rude and didn't even say hi to him 🙄)

Seigi asks again what does she wants, but she just reapeted again the question in French. Seigi got that she seemed to want him to paint some walls for her, though obviously didn't get why. <Why would she ask me that? Maybe she and her husband weren't native French speakers? > he wonders how to facilitate communication with them.

Rude woman "Can you come now? We'll pay you 30 euros an hour"

Seigi "Is it an emergency? I can help look up the number of a contractor for you"

The woman let out an annoyed-sounding groan. Seigi guesses that the important part was whether he'll come with her or not, but Seigi thinks he should ask Catherine first, so he goes back inside to call Catherine but she brushes him off and doesn't want to be disturbed, as he didn't know what to do he goes outside again and the neighbour ask him again a sudden question "Where do you live?"

"Me? Sri Lanka"

"Will you come for 40 euros? It won't take long"

Seigi grows even more confused and reason she might think of him as some kind of housekeeper? He thinks it's odd as how insistent she is on asking him to do menial labour, he try to think positively, like it will be a new experience...so why not? And goes with her. (It's in a moment like these, you can see how innocent he is....)

The woman came by car. They had a smaller villa with a pool. The couple exchanges some angry sounding shouts in a language he doesn't understand before the woman hands him a roller and a can of white paint. The man is painting blue the wall at the back.

Seigi "looks like a lot of work. Are you sure it wouldn't be better to hire some more people?"

Neighbour "You paint these walls"

Seigi "You mean the entire exterior?"

Neighbour "All of it"

He meant all the exterior walls, which was a huge area, Seigi knew that if you were to ask a professional, it wouldn't even be near 40 euros, let alone doing it in an hour. Seigi finally gets that they want to save money, he simply tell her that he'll do as much as he could but as he has other works to do at home, he'll leave after an hour.

Neighbour "Good" replies and goes back inside to help the husband. Seigi, in that moment, recalls how a friend told him that in an area he lives in where white rice grows during planting season, everyone would help as a group. He positively thinks about his situation as something similar to that and might become a funny story to tell at dinner later. He reason that painting isn't that hard as the windows were already taped, but he can't help but feel discouraged as it is really a huge area, once he finishes the first floor the woman come out with a stepladder to tell him to do the upper floor as well. It was 5 metres off the ground, and if he were to fall, he'd get seriously hurt as there was no safety line as well. But Seigi worries about this couple that were probably in their forties, so decide to do it himself. (He is too sweet for his own good...if it was me, I would've snapped already and told them to do it themselves, no I correct myself, I wouldn't even agree to paint walls)

Seigi thinks he already agreed to do the job and there is only 30 minutes left, so get on the ladder and start to paint but not long after he hears a squeak from the road, he sees Richard on the bike with sunglasses and striped shirt.

Richard already noticed him before Seigi could wave at him, he takes off his sunglasses and looked really shocked.

Seigi "Welcome back, I'm just helping out a bit and Catherine is in the house"

Richard "That's so dangerous! What are you doing up there?!"

Seigi can't explain from there, so start going down the ladder just as the woman comes out of the house.

Richard is furious, with anger Seigi never ever witnessed.

(The reason is now most obvious, but I'll continue in the next post heh heh angry Richard is always a beautiful Richard after all)

[rosanna-writer]

we said hello and your eyes look like coming home (9/?)

Summary: A canon-divergent AU where the bond snaps for Rhys on Calanmai, Feyre unwittingly accepts it, and Fire Night magic proves to be more transformative than anyone bargained for. Feyre drags a mate she hardly knows out from Under the Mountain, then puts him back together as war with Hybern approaches. Warnings: dubious consent, canon-typical sexual violence, canon-typical violence Rating: Explicit Chapter Word Count: ~3.6k

I'm not quite sure how to tag a trigger warning for this, so just a note that in this chapter, Rhys uses his daemati ability to force someone to vomit.

Some dialogue and the riddle are taken directly from ACOTAR book one.

Read on AO3 or you can find the ninth chapter below the readmore.

ch. 1 - the altar is my hips | ch 2. - an arrowhead leading us home | ch. 3 - by the way, i just may like some explanations | ch. 4 - can't not think of all the cost | ch. 5 - honey i rose up from the dead | ch. 6 - this mad, mad love makes you come running | ch. 7 - therein lies the issue, friends don't try to trick you | ch. 8 - it's not his price to pay | ch. 9 - is it chill that you're in my head?

There was a note of anxiety mixed in with everything else that leaked through Rhys's shields this time. My own heart hammering seemingly in time with his and my stomach churning, I paced the cell and counted my steps in a vain attempt to occupy myself. I nearly ripped apart the pallet of hay just to have something to do with my hands. Wisely, the guards hadn't left me anything sharp, but I longed for a rock or something I could use to scrape artwork onto the wall and settle my mind.

Eventually, Rhys's side of the bond quieted, and I suspected he'd fallen asleep. It seemed cruel to wake him if Amarantha had wrung him out so thoroughly. I left him alone.

When the dungeon was this silent, I felt the echo of the stag's magic inside me more strongly. It hadn't faded the slightest bit since Calanmai. The few times I managed to stop worrying about Rhys, my thoughts drifted back to the new immortality I'd been left with. If I ever got out from Under the Mountain, I'd watch my family get old and die while I stayed looking exactly the same. The few decades I had left with them seemed impossibly long to me now, but in a few centuries, it would feel like the blink of an eye. Wrapping my mind around it was nearly enough to give me a headache.

When Nuala and Cerridwen appeared an hour later, I nearly wept with relief that I was finally getting a change of scenery. I might have gone mad otherwise.

Completely silent again, they brought me to the same bathing chamber and repeated the process of stripping me down and painting me, this time extending the paint all the way down to my fingertips. The twins couldn't possibly know it, but the paint would obscure the tattoo if the glamour failed. And again, I let them work.

But this time, the bundle of fabric they held out for me could barely be called a dress for completely new reasons. And I really, really wished Rhys had warned me better.

Thin panels of gauzy white fabric barely covered my breasts. They flowed into a single panel at the front and back of my legs, secured by a gold belt that didn't give me much confidence I'd stay covered if I moved the wrong way.

Nuala brushed makeup over my face as Cerridwen did my hair, coiling it around a gold diadem she placed on my head. I took deep breaths and tried to curb my rising panic as they worked. By the time they finished, I was nearly unrecognizable. Rhys had mentioned potentially dressing me up during our first conversation in my cell, so this didn't come as a complete surprise—it was not knowing the full details of what was happening that was eating at me.

"You look horrible in white."

The twins faded into the shadows as I turned to see Rhys leaning against the doorframe, hands in his pockets and his face twisted in disgust. He was so still and silent that I suspected he'd been watching me for a while.

I expected to see hunger as his eyes swept down my body and he took in all the exposed skin, but there was nothing but revulsion. I didn't mind; it was better than being leered at. And then I realized I'd only ever seen him slide his hands into his pockets when he was making a show of something.

I saw through the act—Rhys was nervous.

I just raised my brows, resisting the urge to cross my arms and attempt to cover myself. He'd seen all of it before anyway. "Should I take that to mean you weren't the one who picked this out?" I said, my voice sharp.

"I was. You looking horrible and making a mockery of your so-called virginity was the point." I bit back a retort that I could have figured that much out for myself and just waited for him to explain. He didn't seem the least bit frantic, which could only mean we weren't in a rush. He continued, "We're exploiting the loophole that you never had to be sober when you heard the riddle."

That explained the instruction not to drink anything that he didn't hand to me personally—I understood where he was going with this. "But you're not actually giving me anything stronger than water?" Somehow, the words came out calm and not like the desperate plea for reassurance they were.

"Precisely," Rhys said, and I let his apparent confidence steady me. It might have been an act, but it was a good one. "The evening's entertainment will be humiliating the drunk human. Amarantha will taunt you, saying it's such a shame you can't handle faerie wine because the riddle was so simple. I couldn't see another way she'd give you something easy."

The revealing dress made it obvious enough what sort of humiliation was in store for me. I'd force myself through it if it meant another shot at the riddle—I could guess what it had cost Rhys to change Amarantha's mind so quickly, and I wouldn't let that go to waste.

There was just one problem. "Rhys, I— I've never actually been drunk before," I said, cheeks burning.

His eyes went wide with shock, and he swore under his breath. Perhaps I'd said the one thing that could shred his cool demeanor to ribbons. "How old are you, Feyre?"

"Nineteen." I still didn't quite know him well enough to read all the emotions that crossed his face in quick succession, but now really wasn't the time to discuss this in detail. We had work to do. "But that doesn't matter, I'll be able to pretend. I just might need a bit of help."

He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly gathering himself before looking at me again. "I won't let you fail."

I considered that for a moment, wondering if it was just reassurance or there was something else he was getting at. "If the performance isn't convincing will you…step in?" It was vague, but I wasn't sure how exactly to ask.

"Step in?"

"Take over with your daemati abilities. Unless…the Night Court won't let you do that to me?"

Rhys stilled. Voice soft, he said, "You would trust me enough to do that?"

"Yes. Without hesitation." I thought it was obvious—if I didn't trust him, I wouldn't have been nearly so composed after being forced with no explanation into a dress that left me so bare and exposed.

His throat bobbed. He reached for me, then glanced at the paint on my body and dropped his hand, as if thinking better of smearing it. "I thought you might hate me for planning this without asking. I wanted to explain, but she was….demanding last night. I managed to steer the conversation back to the riddle, and I took the opportunity while it was there."

If he'd done the opposite—given up a potential advantage to spare my feelings—I might actually have hated him. Flinching away from hard choices would damn us all.

"I can handle anything as long as you're on my side."

"You shouldn't have to."

I felt myself tense up—that was a dangerous line of thinking, and one I was too familiar with. For a moment, it was as if I was back in the cabin, slinging a quiver over my shoulder even though I shouldn't have to be the one to feed my family. My hands seemed to curl into fists of their own accord.

We would not fall into that particular trap today.

"You didn't answer my question. Will you be able to take over if I need you to?"

Something in my voice made Rhys stand a little straighter, and I caught the briefest flash of the soldier he'd been centuries ago, before becoming High Lord. I'd never seen it before, but it seemed to be exactly what we needed from him to get through this.

"I will. Daemati abilities aren't connected to the Night Court."

It was exactly the answer I'd been hoping for, and a bit more of my nervousness faded. I even managed a smile. "Then let's solve a riddle and get home tonight."

I watched the smirk bloom on his face as he ceased to be the male I knew and became the Lord of Nightmares. The mask was firmly on as he purred, "The festivities await. Allow me the honor of escorting you."

I followed Rhys through the halls, walking close behind him but not touching. With him near, the mating bond seemed to uncoil again. Despite being about to enter a lion's den wearing nothing but scraps of too-sheer fabric, I hardly felt any fear.

It didn't keep me from shivering in the cold, though.

My feet were half-frozen from the stone floor, but I gritted my teeth and waited for them to go numb. It was better this way—no one would think I could possibly be a threat if I couldn't run. I just kept my hands at my sides and attempted to look as unbothered as I could. As we passed through the doors, I opened a crack in my shields for Rhys.

The same music from when I'd first arrived Under the Mountain was playing in the throne room again. It was as crowded as I'd ever seen it, though everyone gave Rhys—and by extension, me—a wide berth.

There was something satisfying about being the only one in Rhys's orbit, in a strange, instinctual way. It was probably just due to the mating bond, but I liked being the only one close enough to touch him in a crowded room. At the very least, it made all the gawking easier to ignore.

I followed him to the dais where Amarantha sat, Tamlin at her side as always. I half-listened as Rhys bowed and wished her a good evening, just watched Tamlin for a reaction again. He continued staring straight ahead as if he'd been turned to stone. Coward.

I schooled my features to look faintly bored as Amarantha took in the sight of me. She broke into a cold grin. "Rhysand, you must get your eye for fashion from your lowborn whore of a mother," she said.

I didn't fully understand the insult to his mother, but Rhys just inclined his head and said, "I'm flattered you think so." Polished as ever, he sounded as if it didn't bother him in the slightest. But I felt the truth of his rage through the bond.

"Feyre dear, turn around so we can appreciate the view from the back as well," Amarantha said, making a show of holding her hand out so the ring with Jurian's eye pointed at me. I bit back a retort about how kind it was of her to ensure that everyone here had an unobstructed view.

I stepped out from behind Rhys and did as she asked. He took advantage of the brief pause in the conversation to slip into my mind and answer the question he must have heard. She was an extraordinary seamstress.

When it became clear she wasn't getting much of a reaction from anyone, Amarantha dismissed us with a flick of her hand and an irritated, "Enjoy my party."

Rhys walked over to a table laden with food and drink, and I followed at his heels like a dog. The faeries that had been standing around it cleared out quickly. He reached for a bottle, seemingly at random, and filled a goblet.

"Wine?" he said, offering it to me. In my head, he added, It's safe. I shook my head anyway, trusting he understood I was just doing it for show. He pressed the goblet closer to me. When he spoke again, Rhys dropped his voice low in that way that had heat pooling in my lower abdomen, even though it was very much not the time for that. "Try it. I think you'll like it."

I gave him one wary look before snatching the goblet from him and chugging it. The liquid inside tasted of nothing but water. As I swallowed every last drop, I tried to ignore the chuckles of the faeries who were watching us. When I lowered the goblet, I wiped at my lips with the back of my hand. The smear of liquid from the goblet was dark red.

But my head was still perfectly clear.

I forced out a giggle that sounded nothing like me at all. It must have been convincing because there was a flicker of Rhys's approval down the bond as he poured another glass. But instead of passing it to me, he placed his free hand on my lower back.

I let him herd me towards a chair and perch me in his lap. It was a relief to finally get my feet off the cold floor, and more than anything I wanted to press every inch of skin to him I could, even if it was just to leech some warmth. I kept my back straight, shrinking from his touch, but it was so damned difficult not to give into the urge to do the opposite.

As much as I appreciate hearing those thoughts from you, please refrain from shouting them at me when we both need to concentrate.

Even in my head, his voice sounded a bit strained. I was seated too close to his knee to feel if he was hard or not, and before I could dwell too much on that particular line of thought, he was pressing the goblet to my lips again. I let him pour water down my throat until I'd drained all of it.

When he lowered the goblet, I took in the stares and the giggles from the partygoers. Amarantha was leaning over and whispering something to Tamlin, whose blank expression hadn't changed. I didn't want Tamlin to want me, but it enraged me to see no signs of remorse for starting the chain of events that led me being a plaything in his worst enemy's lap.

I held onto that anger as Rhys wrapped a possessive arm around my waist, let it help me look indignant instead of comfortable. I went stiff, and he chuckled in a way that sounded so utterly unlike him that I shivered.

But the discomfort I felt from his side of the bond was the farthest thing from amused.

Feyre. Amarantha wants to make you dance while you hear the riddle. Will you be able to? The music will pick up soon.

Rhys didn't need to specify what kind of dancing it was. I didn't hesitate to say, Yes.

His mind wrapped around mine again, just as it had when he'd forced me to lick his shoes. The apology didn't come in words, just another wave of feeling down the bond, wrapped up in his own sense of self-hatred for not preventing this and territorial anger at everyone leering at me.

I didn't blame him in the slightest.

The strange, otherworldly music got louder, and that was my cue. Rhys said something smug that was more for the benefit of the crowd than me, but I was so focused on keeping up appearances that I barely heard it.

I stood up, trying to look unsteady on my feet. Another spark of approval down the bond told me it was working. The increased stares made me flush deeper, which could only help make this convincing.

I turned to face Rhys as he spread his legs wide and leaned back in the chair. He tucked a hand behind his head, and the lazy smile on his face might have been the most obnoxious thing I'd ever seen in my life.

I pretended to stumble, reaching out and grabbing the top of the chair to steady myself in a way that pushed my breasts towards his face like an embarrassing accident. Rhys laughed, and others followed.

My focus narrowed to just his violet eyes, and everything else fell away. I canted my hips towards his and started to move, letting myself believe we were the only two people in the world. The mask on his face didn't slip, but I saw the truth of him under it.

His mind curled more tightly around mine. I didn't have words for what passed through the bond in that moment, but I could sense the way his entire being was poised to catch me if I fell. I might be the one dancing, but we were in this together.

Feyre, you look too coordinated. Move less in time with the music before they suspect something.

I adjusted as he said, and another flicker of relief down the bond let me know it was enough. The music was already off-kilter, distinctly faerie in a way that set me on edge. I wasn't sure how much longer I'd have to keep this up.

Do they expect me to vomit, Rhys?

Possibly.

Then use your abilities to make me. It will be suspicious if I don't.

Thank the Mother, Rhys didn't hesitate. His talons plunged deeper into me, taking complete control. I couldn't move of my own volition—breathing, blinking, and even the beating of my heart only happened exactly as he willed it.

I was an observer in my own body as he moved my legs in shaking steps around to the side of the chair. There was no nausea as invisible hands bent me over, just the burn of bile Rhys forced up from my stomach. I threw up on the floor.

Amarantha was saying something, but it was a struggle to focus on her words and not the sour taste left in my mouth. But as soon as the thought crossed my mind, the taste disappeared—also Rhys's doing. A few more wobbly footsteps, and I was standing between his legs again, facing the crowd.

She's getting ready to give you the riddle. I'll keep hold of your body so you can focus on what she's saying. Is that alright?

Yes. Thank you.

My ass jerked backwards towards his groin as I writhed again, clearly on display. A few faeries here and there looked faintly sick, but most seemed amused. Amarantha smiled right at me and said, "Don't let it be said I don't hold up my end of a bargain, Feyre. Here's the riddle I promised you." Her grin went wider than I'd ever seen it as she added, "It's a shame faerie wine is too strong for you to remember it tomorrow."

I cleared my mind, focusing and memorizing every word as she spoke, even as Rhys made my hips move in slow, inelegant circles.

There are those who seek me a lifetime but never we meet,

And those I kiss but who trample me beneath ungrateful feet.

At times I seem to favor the clever and the fair,

But I bless all those who are brave enough to dare.

By large, my ministrations are soft-handed and sweet,

But scorned, I become a difficult beast to defeat.

For though each of my strikes lands a powerful blow,

When I kill, I do it slow…

As she sat back and laughed, I'd never felt more useless. Rhys had said this was supposed to be simple, yet I couldn't think of anything that resembled what she'd described, not in the slightest. Mother above, if this was supposed to be easy, I shuddered to think what else she'd had in mind.

Rhys's hands were on my waist again as he pulled me back onto his lap. I let his touch ground me. His talons pulled out of my mind gently, returning the control back to me without it being so sudden I'd react involuntarily and give the ruse away.

Despite having no idea what the answer could be, I let myself bask in the victory for a moment. Just having the riddle in my head meant that Rhys and I had won, and we'd done it right under Amarantha's nose.

Perhaps Amren had been right when she said my mate and I should be unstoppable together.

This time, the brush of Rhys's mind against mine felt like a friendly cat rubbing affectionately against my legs. I took that to mean he'd heard my thoughts and agreed. Now it was just a matter of enduring the rest of the party. All things considered, it didn't seem like too much of an ordeal if it meant I could stay this close to Rhys for a few more hours.

I turned the riddle over in my head as Amarantha went back to taunting Tamlin instead of me. Rhys continued to smirk and poured a few more glasses of "wine" down my throat. I did my best to look like I was struggling not to fall over.

I'd truly thought the worst was over until the throne room doors slammed open. The crowd murmured as the Attor dragged in a sobbing faerie and dropped him right in front of the dais. The faerie didn't even get up off the ground.

"I caught the summer lordling attempting to escape through the caves to the Spring Court lands," the Attor said. It sounded positively gleeful, its tail twitching with excitement like a dog's. "What would you like done with him, my queen?"

Amarantha's eyes snapped to Rhys as she commanded, "Find out why, so I can decide."

I'd been a fool to think the night was anywhere close to over.

[oraclekleo]

[Interactive Stories] Painting - Part 01

Lee Soo Hyuk Story

Painting

(Lee Soo Hyuk Story)

Part 01

Lee Soo Hyuk was standing in front of a painting in a gallery. Initially, this was only one of many similar events he was getting invitations to every week. He got himself smartly dressed and arrived at vernissage, struck poses for photographers and spent an hour or two looking at art pieces he would never ever put on display in his own home.

This evening was exactly the same until he spotted this one painting. It caught his attention immediately and he couldn’t look away from it. He was fully immersed in the scene it depicted, observing each tiny detail, discovering something new every minute. The painting looked nearly as realistic as a photograph, only certain aspects were clearly done by the hand of the artist. It depicted a young woman sitting on some sofa, her naked back exposed to the artist, her face turned so she was looking right at the audience. Her right arm was loosely placed on the sofa, exposing the wrist. Hyuk probably wouldn’t notice such a woman if he met her on a street but in this picture… It was a powerful and heartstopping image.

The woman was barely more than skin and bones, her back suffered severe burns a long time ago, her wrist carried marks of razor cuts. Two fingers on her hand seemed weirdly crooked as if they were broken and the bones healed in a wrong way. There were cigarette burn marks on her arms and legs. But the most disturbing was a scar on her neck. It looked as if someone slit her throat with a knife but the wound pulled together and only left a nasty scar there instead of killing her. The woman had the face of a broken angel. Her eyes were baby blue but there was so much pain and sadness in them. Hyuk felt as if his own heart started to bleed for this poor person who clearly suffered way too much.

He closed his eyes in an attempt to detach from the image but it remained in his mind. He opened eyes again only to see the eyes of the woman on the painting. Her lips remained pressed but Hyuk could hear her call for help in his mind. He gulped with difficulties and stepped a bit closer to the painting to read the description. It said that it’s the last work of a now deceased author. He died before finishing it, the painting wasn’t even given a name. The model was an unknown woman. Hyuk felt an unexpected stab of disappointment. For some reason he wanted to know her name or at least have a clue who she might be. Is she still alive? Is she feeling better now? Does she have the kind of care she needs? Author died, the painting had no name, the woman was unknown. Hyuk had no leads to follow at the moment.

“It’s an impressive piece, isn’t it?”

Hyuk turned to the woman standing next to him. She was the owner of this gallery. She surely noticed his interest and spotted an opportunity to do some business here.

“It emits a lot of sorrow and pain.” Hyuk said and had to turn back to the painting as if the model was demanding his attention.

“She must have been beautiful before all that happened.” The gallery owner mentioned, clearly referring to all those scars.

“I think she is beautiful. She endured such torment…” Hyuk stopped and had to blink quickly. He was never an overly emotional person but this painting was just too much for his self composure.

“You’re not the only one who thinks so. I have received offers from two potential buyers already.”

Hyuk blinked slowly. She was clearly bluffing… but what if it’s true? What if some creep buys this painting to hang it in their living room and let all their guests ogle the pain and suffering of a woman in the picture?

Check out Lee Soo Hyuk tarot readings:

Lee Soo Hyuk Kinky* Reading

Lee Soo Hyuk Relationship Role

Lee Soo Hyuk Ideal Partner

Lee Soo Hyuk - Love is a Battlefield

Lee Soo Hyuk - Shadow of the Moon

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task 141 + vaqueros x germen reader

pt1

A/N: for this story the reader will be a female this is my first story have mercy on me it might be bad and sorry for the bad english its not my first language (reader wears war paint in like a skull almost its scary to see but its cool)

summary: reader call sign chaos (reader got the call sign of chaos after decapitating a man with a sniper rifle u were known to be ruthless and shown no mercy a lot of soldiers feared u. u may be short but u had a strength of a bear u could take down an enemy soilder that was 2x bigger than u). after valeria escaped the prison the los vaqueros and task 141 are now trying to find her they got a tip from someone that Valeria was hiding in germen soil and is working with some sort of mafia so the boys go on a mission to stop whatever she was planning. ( however, then need the help of germen special forces to hunt her down and arrest her since she is no longer in mexican soil.)

it was a regular day on ur base as a lieutenant. you were helping the new rookies on their training it was a long day and you can feel ur head pounding from all the screaming u need because of the rookie "Du Idiot, weißt du nicht, wie man eine Pistole nachlädt?!!" (you idiot do you not know how to reload a pistol?!!) you just stood there in anger and in disappointment of the rookie staring dagger into him as he struggles to reload his pistol. he flinched from the sudden scream out of u he started to apologise and get nervouse u could see he was starting shake struggling to put the loaded magazine back into the pistol. hours past as you were still stuck with the same group of rookies. it felt like it had been years with the rookies but it was probably because of the headache u have otherwise u liked helping out new rookies. the training session finally ended u walked over to the kitchen of the base to make yourself the strongest coffee u could find hoping u last throughout the day when u got to the kitchen u meet ur captain and u greeted him.

he greeted back with a smile he seemed to be in a good mood today. he then spoke up "Chaos, um 17 Uhr gibt es in meinem Büro ein Treffen mit unseren anderen Teamkollegen. Es gibt ein paar Dinge, die ich besprechen muss. Komm nicht zu spät" (Chaos there is a meeting at 5pm in my office with our other teammates there's a few things i need to discuss DO NOT BE LATE) u replied with a simple nod. u wanted to make ur a coffee and leave the kitchen because it was starting to feel awkward as both of u were silent when u finally had ur coffee made u took off hoping to take a 5-minute break in peace and quiet hoping ur headache to go away and praying that u wouldn't have to go get medicine despite u being strong and scary u hated taking medicine. u took ur coffee and looked at ur watch making sure u wont be late for the meeting u still had an hour left so u opened ur new cigar pack. putting one in ur mouth and lighting it.

when u finished ur cigar u made ur way over to the meeting that captain held in his office with 5 minutes to spare u thought it was better to be early than late. u reached the big wooden door in front of u and u hesitated but u knocked twice waiting for the captain to give u permission to enter after a second the captain said "Komm herein" (come in!) u turned the door nob and pushed the door u walked in the room and u saw a couple of ur teammates waiting for the others u took a seat next to ur captain as u greeted ur teemmates after what felt like forever everyone was in the meeting and ur captain started to speak up "Wir haben ein neues Ziel, eine Frau namens Valeria." ( we have a new target a woman named Valeria.)

A/N: okay this is just a small part of the beginning idk if yall will like it but tell me if u want a part 2 or something if there is anything wrong please let me know so i can improve and i might be able to do some request if guys have any!