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

[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…

[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. 

[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.

[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.” 

[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. 

[mischiefmaker615]

The Gift (Pt. 1 of ?)

Note: Part 1 of ?

~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.

[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!”

[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

Thank you for reading!

Click and Feed the shelter dogs!

You can click every day again.

Hit the Like 💖

Comment! 💬

Reblog! 🔁

Follow for more! 💌

Any Feedback is Welcomed ✅

Consider supporting me on ko-fi 💖

Check out my k-pop and astrology themed activity book for adults - HERE! 📘

[furmomz]

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!

[percyaugod]

ROTTMNT: Donbot AU

AU where Donnie's old robotic backups for when he and his brothers die is still back at the destroyed lair. Most of them were damaged or destroyed in the Shredder attack. Donnie decides it's best to just abandon them and start over. Only taking some of the smaller pieces to use as scrap.

Cue months later. Donnie falls in battle, probably protecting one of his siblings. As he programmed it all memories are sent to the backup to be activated after someone's untimely demise. The new backups he was working on with Casey Jr aren't finished. Donnie is transferred to his old backup.

While his was the least damaged, it was still very much damaged. One arm was crushed and completely useless from falling debris that also left dents and craters throughout the body. The metal casing melted and warped from the heat of the fire. Delicate wiring is frayed and exposed.

When Don n°13 activates it can't see. Its visor that's supposed to relay visual input is cracked, only showing partial and corrupted images. For some reason it can't seem to process where it is or what happened. Something bad happened, it knows that, it's just not sure what.

It is… home? That statement feels both correct and incorrect. How is that even possible? Maybe because something seems missing? Something, no someone, is supposed to be here. Multiple someones. But it can't remember who.

It misses them. It doesn't like being alone.

It waits for… hours? Days? It's not sure, but it feels like a lifetime. Then again it just activated so technically it is a lifetime? That thought makes it sad. It doesn't like being sad. Or alone.

It wants the someones. It's not sure if it should wait more or not. The someones might come back but what if they don't? Maybe they are looking for it but don't know where it is? Yeah. If it went missing they are looking for it. This it knows for sure.

Maybe it would be easier if it looked for them too? They could find each other and it wouldn't be alone anymore. Then once together it can go home. Then maybe things would make sense again.

It tries to stand but falls hard on its front. Oh no. It doesn't know how to stand. Or probably walk for that matter. This is going to be a lot harder than it initially thought.

It spends so much more time just trying to stand than it wants to, but it stands, using a severely deformed metal stick it was able to glance through its glitching vision. Only to nearly trip over rubble as it took its first step. In its defense, it couldn't… see… it. Revaluating the situation it seems the problem isn't the ability to stand and walk, but the disadvantage of its vision causing it problems.

New objective: Find a replacement visor to make repairs.

Surprisingly, finding another is an easy task. The pieces of the other backups are still in the activation chamber. Parts from the L30 model would work best with its similar size and structure but it looks like that isn't an option. More of the same rubble that crushed its arm seems to have crushed L30's head. L30's arm on the other hand…

It can almost hear obnoxious laughter at the unintentional joke and it feels annoyed… and more lonely.

It looks at the other two backups. Mik37 and Ra94. Both heads are intact and the visor should be functional. Ra94's visor, as its size in general, is large and cumbersome and would probably get in the way. Mik37's though is small and compact and would be a far better mat-

Small round eyes look up from behind a piece of paper. He's holding up a detailed painting of a Galaxy and smiles hopefully. I hear myself say something but I can't understand what. His eyes light up brighter than any star. I want to protect that look no matter what.

… On second thought, Ra94's visor would probably offer more protection since it's overall built for durability. And the larger size could fit more upgrades.

It takes a while but it's able to make repairs. Luckily its creator was thoughtful enough to give it built-in tools in its back compartment to work with. Maybe it was supposed to fix things, maybe that's why it was created? To assist and better the lives of the someones through fixing and creating? It hopes so. It likes fixing things. Even if it's not maybe the someones will kind enough to let it.

Objective: Find replacement visor to make repairs- Completed✓

Returning to main objective- Main objective: Find Someones.

While the visor is big as it predicted it's not bothering it nearly as much as L30's arm. While extremely similar in size and shape the coloring is completely different. It doesn't know why but the asymmetry is extremely upsetting! It needs to cover it up. It searches the destroyed lair for anything to cover it. There's, not a lot here. Seriously, what happened here? Yet another question to ask the someones, great.

After endless searching through the rubble, under a particularly large pile of small rocks and metal, was a dirty purple hoodie. It's honestly absolutely filthy but it's big enough to fit Donn°13 and then some. It hangs loose and easily covers its arms. It thinks it really likes the color purple.

Now he just needs better parts for repairs.

The turtles are on patrol and see some guy trying to rob a place, been there and done that. Of course, Leo, trying to pretend everything is fine and his twin isn't dead, goes in guns blazing. Knocks the guy flat on his face, grabs the stuff, starts to gloat, etc.

Then he notices the hoodie. The very familiar hoodie with several stains that Leo himself caused. The hoodie that was lost in their lair, their old home, and this guy had the gal to go walking around like he owned the place. So of course Leo demand answers. Only to be sent flying.

Don n°13 is being actively attacked and self-defense protocols have been engaged.

All It could really process is that it's being attacked. While actively defending itself it doesn't have the time to diverge resources to identify the would-be attacker. Attackers when the others come to defend Leo. They just lost one brother, they're not risking losing another.

The only thing keeping it from doing more major attacks is they're likely to draw unwanted attention and would be draining its battery. Which could put it at a disadvantage if it powers down while fighting. Raph and Leo are fighting for their lives and Mikey is just, frozen. That's Donnie's hoodie. They thought that was lost with the rest of the lair. That's Donnie's and if this keeps up it's going to be destroyed, just like… He's got to get it back.

The other three are so caught up in the fight they don't notice Mikey creeping up behind Don n°13. Not until Mikey grabs the edge of the hood and it whips around to face the new threat.

Except, it's not a new threat. It's the orange someone from the… file? Memory? That doesn't matter! It found one of the someones! I finally found you! Do you have any idea he long I've been looking? Neither do I! I'm not very good at keeping track of the passage of time.

It stops when it notices the someone wincing. Are they in pain? Wait. Were they one of the ones it was fighting? Oh no. It was just a misunderstanding I swear!

Then it hears it. When it tries to talk all that comes out is a horrible, garbled static. Its voice box is busted. It never thought to check it. It never needed to there was no one to talk to before now.

This is awful. It messed up and attacked the someones and now it can't even apologize. They're still holding onto the hoodie weakly tugging at it. Do they want it? Maybe if it gives them the hoodie they'll realize it's sorry?

It quickly slips off the hoodie and hands it to the orange someone. They look at it and start… crying? No no no no. This wasn't what it wanted at all! It wanted to make them happy not sad! Why are emotions so complicated!?

It completely forgot about the other two until it heard an almost painful intake of breath. Turning around showed similar faces of pain and sorrow, the red someone also crying. What did it do wrong?

It would be so painful. At first, none of them were sure what it was even supposed to be. They want to hope that it somehow is Donnie but it still attacked them. Is it some project that Donnie tried to scrap because it got out of control, is that why it looks so awful? Donnie probably would have had a reason to. Maybe they should just destroy it?… No. They can't do that. There's so little left of Donnie as is.

They decide to take it back to the lair. Let Casey Jr and Shelldon take a look at it. Maybe they know what it is or what it's meant to be used for. Raph leads the way while holding a still sobbing Mikey and Leo watches it from behind to make sure it doesn't try anything.

As soon as they enter the lair they hear the system say, "Donatello back up designation: Don n°13 active and recognized. Lifting lab lockdown. Welcome back, Sir." Everyone slowly turns to the equally confused robot.

Just as they're about to start asking questions Casey Jr runs straight into it. "Why didn't you tell me there was an operational backup!? I thought the incomplete project was the only one! I thought you were gone! I thought that I lost you again!" It doesn't respond. Just stares back and blinks slowly.

Fear starts to cross Casey Jr's face as he starts to really look at the robot. "Oh pizza supreme. There's so much damage. How is it even active? Donnie? Are you in there?" It doesn't answer for it doesn't know.

[that-one-braincell64]

trophbrrush QPR Oneshots cause why not?

trophy and paintbrush go on a QPR date-- WHAT WHO SAID THAT?

Paintbrush walks through the forest with a backpack on their back. They sighed. why did their partner choose  to have a date so far into the forest? their legs felt like jeLlo. Paintbrush was currently on a Queerplatonic date with their partner, trophy. it was unfortunately trophy's turn to pick a date place, and of course he chooses to hang out in the middle of the forest. how on earth were they meant to go back to the hotel when this is over?  it's so thick and dense in here, they might as well go camping because it might take a few days to get back. 

paintbrush jumped over a few rocks and finally found a clearing. a clearing with trophy leaning on a tree with his camera and a basket in both hands. " what took you so long PB'n'J? " trophy asked, bouncing his camera on his hand. " well there was no map, and I was left ALONE to find this place, no kidding.." paintbrush responded, their tired eyes glaring at trophy. "oh, right..forgot you didn't know this place as good as me..oops! well anyway, did you bring the blanket?" trophy asked, moving on quickly.

Paintbrush let out a soft annoyed smile. "of course, I am NOT sitting on that musty ground. " they answered, taking out a red and blue blanket from their backpack. the laid the blanket on the ground, as trophy open the basket. "I get that you're not to much of a fan being out here, but  trust, just a single minute and you'll see why I love this place!" trophy explained, now sitting down. paintbrush joined him. 

"whatever you say honey." paintbrush simply replied. the rest of the date went well, paintbrush got to eat some delicious pasta made by the amazing cook himself. while said cook, chowed down on a microwaved pizza bagel. paintbrush at the time laughed, how could someone whose so great at cooking, enjoy something as simple as something literally microwaved? 

as the sun was merely a few hours from setting, trophy decided to spend their last moments with some photos.  "just a little thing between me and you pal!" trophy said now walking through the forage of the forest. "try not to walk too fast! I still don't know my way around here.." paintbrush sighed, trying to ignore the scratches as their head unwillingly smacks against every branch know to mankind. 

"stop!" trophy whispered yelled, paintbrush soon stopped in their tracks. "what?" paintbrush whispered back. paintbrush knew there was no point in asking such a thing, usually in a moment like this, they've stopped because something magnificent that needed its own personal picture was caught in trophy's gaze. 

trophy ignored paintbrush and slowly brought his camera to his face. paintbrush knelt down and saw a deer eating some yellow daisies, with the sun glimmering down. the sight was indeed beautiful.  paintbrush smiled, trophy was so good with sight, no matter what it is, trophy always knows what looks good and what doesn't. fashion? he could tell. cooking? do they even need to answer? jokes? never failed to tell a good one, though he doesn't say them all the time. painting? could do it with one eye close.

trophy's preferences were always perfect, maybe that's how it is just to paintbrush, but it truly is. a small SNAP! was heard and the deer was off. trophy showed the picture to paintbrush. as clear as clean glass. thanks to the deers delayed reaction, the picture was the same as how the deer looked before it left. "awesome!" trophy sighed happily. 

"how about some still-life next? " paintbrush asked, hoping for a selfie to totally perfect the platonic date. " still-life? the forest is anything but still dude!" trophy laughed shaking his head. trophy then looked at paintbrush confused. "you're serious?" . "as serious as a business man about to get a promotion. " paintbrush explained, shrugging. they then took the camera out of trophy's hand and held it up high. "wha-" before trophy could finish he was pushed closer to paintbrush. 

paintbrush hand around trophy's waist, holding onto him tight. "oh..OH! still-life! cause we can be still for a photo!" trophy spoke. realizing what paintbrush wanted. "heh, yeah! now pose dummy!" paintbrush laughed rolling their eyes.  trophy smiled and made little devil horns out of his fingers. both on the side of his head. paintbrush let their tounge out. 

SNAP! another photo was taken. Trophy laughed at how the photo look, not only was their poses amusing but the terrible image quality was hysterical too. the camera had motion blur despite both of them being still, it was a bit foggy too. "well, unlike you, I'm not the best at taking photos.." paintbrush sighed, as embarrassment filled them up. they could feel faint heat from their cheeks. 

"I can tell! leave it up to the professionals will you?" trophy sighed happily, taking his camera back." definitely...let's head back now, the sky is already orange!" paintbrush agreed. "of course! follow me!" trophy said proudly. the two picked up their things and started heading back to the hotel. what a lovely day it was. 

hooray :D (BTW QPR= queerplatonic relationship)

[generalkenobee]

Hiiii could I possibly request a little Mando x reader where reader was raised by the tusken raiders? She's like their princess in a way. She doesn't wear the face thing BUT she's not allowed to leave her hut ever because they see her as super important. But one day she HAS to leave (idk why lol) so they ask the mandalorian to escort her away. Now she travels with him and they have crushes on each other. I'm thinkin tomboy edgy type reader who's also a bad bitch lol

THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST CUTIE PATOOTIE 🩷🫣

Warnings: body guard Mando, FEM! reader, reader is kind of a bitch to Mando, I MIGHT MAKE THIS A SERIES MAYBE!, let me know if I missed anything

"Fine.. I'll get you ice cream"

"ok and why do I have to go?! I don't want to go to a stupid invitational" you huffed trying to walk away but your dad grabbed your arm signifying it was no option

Your translator came in the room holding a long flowy purple dress "mi'lady, your father requested that you wear this to the invitational" she smiled at you holding the dress out. You sighed grabbing it

"something the matter princess?" She had a look of genuine worry on her face as she questioned you

"I just feel like everyone keeps making all my decisions for me! I don't want to go so I shouldn't have to..."

You looked down feeling defeated.

And your translator looked away blushing "what is it?"

"I-I have news but now knowing how you feel.." she took a deep breath "you're not going to like it"

You rolled your eyes again Turing to look at her and smiled "nothing could be much worse, what is it?"

"y-your father.. he well- well your father requested that you ha-" she was interrupted as a mandolorian walked in the room "who the hell are you?! Get out!" Your translator looked over at him "I haven't broken the news yet!" She whisper yelled.

As the mandolorian left she turned back to you "mi'lady I'm so sorry.." and it all fell together "no"

"mi'lady try to understand that this- well your father-"

You sprinted out from your hut only to be tacked to the ground "unhand me!" You started to scream and kick your feet back and forth "let me go! Now!" You heard a dramatic sigh "this is a lot harder for me then it is for you" the mandolorian said as he put you down back in the hut

"how is this harder for you mandolorian?"

"I just had to carry you back to your hut and I've only been on the job for 23 minutes-"

You groaned and threw your head back "this is so unfair"

"brat" you head the mandolorian mumble under his breath

" I'm sorry, but have you been locked in a tiny hut your whole? Oh and also, the only time you get to leave is to go somewhere you don't want to go!" To be honest Din didn't like the sound of someone being treated like that

You were right, it was unfair

---

Your translator was currently doing your hair, painting your nails, getting your shoes on. Basically some finishing touches before you had to hit the road with your mysterious new found mandolorian.

"hey mandolorian, is your ship big?" You called over while she was on her knees in front of you. She looked up at you once she had put on your shoes for you and looked away blushing

"you're all ready mi'lady.."

"thank you so much Amber" you leaned in kissing her cheek, this was considered all natural in your culture

---

You waved good bye to Amber while your mandolorian escorted you off to his ship, which was indeed..big.

He pushed in the code sending the door flying open "here" he said pointing to a small cot. "If you get tired you can sleep, and I have some nutrients bars and blue milk over on the bed side table" you watched as he pointed over to the objects he was talking about but you couldn't focus.

What was under that helmet? Why did he wear it? What was the point? But then again he probably had some of the same questions about your culture.

"so it should take about four or so hours to get to your invitational then I'll-"

"FOUR HOURS?" you whaled out "no no no please don't you have like a light speed thing?"

"broken"

"then just fly faster!"

"can't"

"WHY?!"

"if you could lower your voice, that would be amazing 'princess' "

Your face felt hot when he called you that..

"and why s-should I?" You tried your best to maintain composer but with the tall man looking down at you and now calling you "princess"?! Impossible.

"kids sleeping" your heart fell..he had a kid, did that mean he had a wife? Husband? Significant other? Where they married?!

"well he's sort of.. adopted"

Oh thank the maker... "Can I meet him? Please"

That was the first time you had shown respect for the mandolorian, asking him please and everything wasn't like you at all.

"he's sleeping.."

---

You wandered through the big ship, looking at the big boxes of cargo and wires everywhere. This place could use a serious makeover

"hey Mando.." you said leaning over the his seat feasting your chin on his shoulder

"what?"

"I'm boreddd" you sounded so over dramatic (as usual)

"can we stop and like get ice cream?" You looked into his visor with pleading eyes. "Why would I get you ice cream?"

"because there's nothing to do on this old rust bucket! And also- I'm hungry" your stomach was starting to ache due to the little amount of food you had the last few days.

"and your little bar things aren't helping much!"

"fine..I'll get you ice cream"