#there’s more to it but i have not slept yet

[penascigarette]

Smooth Operator Ch 1. A New Client ➴ Joel Miller x f!phone sex operator

➴wc: 6.7k | summary: You unexpectedly find yourself drawn to a new client during a late-night call, who ignites a surprising wave of desire within you. As you engage in a steamy conversation, you realize this encounter is unlike any you've had before, leaving you eager for more and questioning the boundaries of your professional life.

➴warnings: mdni, phone sex, mxm phone sex, fxm phone sex, m&f masterbation lots of dirty talking, use of princess, shitty moodboard

➴an: hi! i hope you enjoy the first chapter of the first fic I have ever posted. if I have missed any warnings please let me know. feedback is super appreciated! now I will go run and hide lol. and a big tysm to @saradika-graphics for making such lovely dividers!

masterlist | series masterlist

You love sleeping, and just as passionately, you love your bed. Whenever you wake up in the morning, you spend at least ten minutes wrapped up in your duvet, savoring the warmth and comfort as you tease yourself with the idea of a nap.

This morning is no different. The sun shines outside, making your dark purple curtains look lighter than they actually are. If you open your eyes, you know you'll see dust particles floating through the air.

You take a deep breath through your nose and immediately wish you'd opened your windows to let in some fresh air. But you never do, even though you think about it every morning. It's too risky. Open windows are an open invitation to your worst fear—spiders.

Just the thought of their tiny, hairy bodies and long, wiggly legs sends a shiver down your spine. You pull the duvet tighter around your shoulders, practically imagining the creepy crawlies on your skin.

And of course, that's when your roommate, Elliot, decides it’s the perfect time to tickle your ear with one of his long, pink, kinky feathers—used for who-knows-what.

You scream, jump, and scramble off the bed like it’s suddenly caught fire. Your eyes—probably bloodshot with dark bags underneath—narrow at the grinning culprit, who is currently doubled over in a fit of laughter on the right side of your king-sized bed.

“What the fuck,” you huff, too tired to find any humor in this. You were so warm and cozy, and now that feeling is ruined for the next twenty-four hours. “You’re a real dick, you know that?”

 “Y-your face!” he chokes out between giggles. He looks far too fresh-faced for someone who’s just rolled out of bed. Still in his pajamas, his messy hair—short on the sides with a wave on top—looks like it hasn’t seen a brush this morning.

“It's not funny!” you argue, your voice rising over the sound of his laughter. You’re this close to stomping your foot at him. “I thought you were a spider!” Standing there in nothing but pink pajama bottoms and a black strap top, your skin prickles with goosebumps. Yet again, you curse him for ruining your warm, safe burrito.

That only makes him laugh harder. It’s hard to believe this man-child is twenty-eight years old when he acts less than half his age most of the time.

At the sound of his snort, you feel your lips twitch against your will. No, you’re pissed at him—there’s no way he’s going to make you laugh. But very quickly, you’re losing the battle. Have you ever tried not laughing with someone who has an impossibly contagious laugh? It’s damn near impossible.

“Whatever!” you say, rolling your eyes as a reluctant smile finally breaks across your face. You cross your arms over your chest, trying to look stern, but Elliot knows he’s won this round

“It’s getting late,” he says, still chuckling. His green eyes are watery from laughing, making them sparkle as he grins at you. Rolling onto his left side, he props his head up with one hand—the one holding the feather—while his other hand runs through his sandy-brown hair, slicking it back. “And you slept through your alarms again, so I thought I’d help you out.”

Damn, have you really? It wouldn’t be the first time. Waking you is like trying to wake the dead.

“Oh,” you say sheepishly. Fair enough, he had to wake you, but—“Did you have to use your kinky, sex feather...thing?” You shiver in disgust. “Who knows where that’s been.”

He shrugs innocently, twirling the offending object between his fingers. “Nowhere gross...” His eyes flick up to yours, and he smiles once more. “Only up Danny’s ass.”

Your eyes widen, and you splutter. “What? Oh, my god—Jesus, that’s just—” You gag in the back of your throat. “You said it hadn’t been anywhere gross!”

He laughs again, sitting up. “I was telling the truth. Danny’s ass was far from gross.” A faraway look crosses his face. “It was heaven,” he muses wistfully before frowning. “God, I miss him.”

“Oh, honey,” you soften immediately, making your way to the bed and crawling toward Elliot to offer some comfort.

You know Danny and Elliot’s breakup was hard on him. He’d been completely in love with that man and was about to ask him to move in—with you both—when Danny decided to end the year-and-a-half relationship. It just wasn’t working was his excuse, but Elliot later found out the truth when Danny updated his Facebook page: he’d left Elliot for someone else.

“He didn’t deserve you,” you say, trying to make him feel better as you drape an arm around his shoulders. Sitting back on your heels, you add, “He was a dick for what he did. You shouldn’t be sad. He’s the one who lost someone who loved him. The only thing you lost was—”

“A twat-waffle who didn’t deserve me, I know,” he cuts you off, reciting your usual line before you can finish. You’ve said it enough times in the past three months since the breakup that he knows it by heart. “Thanks for trying to make me feel better, but...doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

“I know,” you respond quietly, your thoughts drifting to your own breakup. It’s been over a year now, but the pain still lingers. Your ex had been your first boyfriend—hell, your first everything. You’d met when you were seventeen, and you moved in with him before your next birthday. Everything happened so fast, and you didn’t see the cracks until it was too late. “But we have each other, right?” you say, giving Elliot a little shake.

He glances at you, his expression vulnerable. Big eyes, plucked thin eyebrows, a slight bump on his nose from when a bully broke it in his teens, full lips, high cheekbones, and when he smiles, dimples form on his cheeks.

“Yeah?” he replies, hopeful. “Even if I wake you up with a feather that’s been up my ex’s ass?”

You roll your eyes, pulling away to thump him on the arm. “Fucker,” you mutter as he starts giggling all over again. “Remind me why I love you?”

Grinning, he reaches into the pocket of his pajama shorts and pulls out his phone. "Because I'm adorable," he answers distractedly as he stares at the screen. "Oh, my first caller of the day! And it's Simon," he whispers the last part to you as if Simon could hear. "He sounds like a whale when he comes, but boy, does he have a gorgeous sex voice," he informs you. You snort as he accepts the call. "Why hello there, lover."

While Elliot makes himself comfortable against your pillows, you climb off the bed and head toward your wardrobe. You already have your outfit in mind—a pair of leggings and a plain white shirt.

"Mmm, that sounds so sexy, baby," you hear Elliot purr in the background, and you smile, shaking your head. You can’t imagine what people would think about you being in the same room as your guy roommate while he talks dirty to one of your clients, meanwhile, you're getting changed in the corner.

It’s a strange situation, to say the least.

As you remove your shirt with your back turned to Elliot, you can’t help but listen in to the conversation.

"I'd love to touch your nipples," Elliot hums behind you, getting into character. You know how much he loves talking dirty to guys. It’s a turn-on for him. Unlike you, who only really enjoys sex if it’s with someone you love. Elliot is way more adventurous and has had more one-night stands than you can count. "I'd love to stroke them, caress them, lick them. . .”

"Suck them," you add when you hear Elliot hesitate. You pull the straps of your bra up your arms and hook it at the back. 

“Oh, and suck them," Elliot says as you pull your top on.

Since Elliot is still fairly new to this, he needs help sometimes. His situation had been very similar to yours—a broken-up relationship, no job, and forced to move back in with his mum until someone came along and gave him hope. For Elliot, that person was you. For you, that person was your boss, Jane.

Elliot's voice lowers as he talks to his client. "Your body is so pretty, honey. I can't wait to trace my tongue up and down your belly, and then start going lower and lower until I reach your—”

You cough quietly to yourself, trying to hide your smile as you change into your leggings and slip on a pair of fluffy pink socks. You’ve heard Elliot talk dirty loads of times, and he’s heard you talk dirty just as many. Part of training him was him having to listen in on your conversations, and then you monitoring his. Neither of you gets embarrassed around it anymore. It’s more amusing, to be completely honest.

Deciding to leave Elliot to it, you grab your phone off your bedside cabinet and quietly tiptoe to the door. Before you leave, you look over to Elliot and mouth, Coffee?

He nods enthusiastically at you and mouths back, Yes, please!

You’re halfway down the steps when you rub your eye and feel the crumbly sensation of mascara under your fingertip. You’ve forgotten to take your makeup off the night before. You curse to yourself before heading back upstairs to fetch a makeup wipe.

When you reach your room once more, Elliot looks at you questioningly before he notices your face. His lips curl into his mouth in an attempt not to laugh. You roll your eyes and put your middle finger up at him before heading over to your dresser, which sits directly opposite your bed. You open the top drawer and feel through the ridiculous amount of makeup and beauty products you’ve collected over time. As your fingers search, your eyes stare forward at your flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. You can see Elliot's reflection.

"God, you feel so tight around me," Elliot is telling his customer, and you bite your lip in an attempt not to laugh. Finally, your fingers grip the packet of wipes, and you pull them free. "I'm gonna come inside of your ass so damn hard—," Elliot is cut off by a muffled roar, and you turn to look at him questioningly.

He is still sitting on your bed, back against the pillows with one hand holding the phone far away from his ear. He has an uncomfortable look on his face, and it’s then you realize the noise has come from the phone. Or, more accurately, the noise is the loud, animal-like groans of a man coming hard.

Oh my god," you whisper to him quietly, now understanding what Elliot had meant by Simon sounding like a whale when he came.

Elliot uses his other hand to cover the bottom half of the phone, preventing Simon from hearing you speak. "Every. Damn. Time," he replies just as quietly, looking so serious it makes you giggle. He cracks his own smile before bringing the phone back to his ear. "Oh, that sounded like a good one, baby."

You’re glad Simon isn’t one of your callers because you’re not sure you’d be able to stay professional with that sound in your ear. You take care of your makeup before finally getting started on coffee.

Your living room and kitchen are all in one room. The only thing separating the rooms is the counter you eat at. Silver stools with black padded seats sit underneath, four of them for when you have guests over.

You walk past the L-shaped sofa and the counter. Once the coffee is on, you get started on breakfast. You decide on some cheesy, ham-scrambled eggs. Just as you start mixing the ingredients, your phone vibrates where you’ve placed it on the counter. You lean over far enough to see the screen. When no name appears, only a number, you figure it must be a new client since you save existing clients in your phone book.

You accept the call and bring it to your ear. "Hey there," you purr in your sexy voice. You never thought you had one until Elliot pointed it out to you. According to him, it’s a hot one too. "Tell me, gorgeous, what’s your name?"

"Josh." He’s breathing heavily, sounding as if he’s already started the party without you. "I-I'm new to all this…phone stuff," he informs you.

"That's fine, Josh," you say with a slight smile. "My name's Angel, and I’m going to take care of you, all right?" Your name isn’t Angel, but for safety reasons, you’re Angel as far as your customers know. And yes, you’re well aware of how clichéd it is.

"Yes," he tells you, his voice rougher than before. He’s probably getting more excited. Now, all you need to do is find out what he likes.

"Tell me, honey, you like it hard or soft, hm?" you question just as Elliot’s footsteps sound on the stairs.

"God. Hard. I like it hard," Josh answers. "I like it when you take control, with a little pain. Yeah, I like that a lot." In the background, you can hear the sound of his hand working his dick. At least you know he’s enjoying himself.

"Okay, Josh," you nod to yourself, knowing exactly where to go from here. Elliot appears in front of you, his lips forming an 'o' shape when he sees you’re with a client. You nod your head toward the food you’ve been preparing, signaling him to take over as you move away from the counter and toward the living area. Elliot passes you on the way, his hand patting you on the shoulder.

You flop over the arm of the chair and onto the sofa, landing with a bounce on your back. "The first thing I want you to do is to strip for me, now," you order him, reaching toward the coffee table when you spot a magazine there. You bring it over to you and open it. "Are you naked yet?"

"Almost," he practically gasps to you. You can hear some more shuffling, and then he's telling you, "Yes, mistress, I'm naked."

Mistress? You sigh internally. You seriously can't believe how many men are into the whole dominatrix kink. In the beginning, it was kind of fun, but by now, it’s getting pretty old.

Mentally awakening your inner dom, you relax further into the sofa and flip through the magazine. "Good boy," you coo, finding a 20 Sex Tips for Women article. Huh, how fitting. "Now, here's what I want you to do, and you better listen closely, pet."

The call ends up lasting 2 minutes and 28 seconds. Not bad for a newbie.

________

“I might have a date this weekend," Elliot mentions casually, making you glance over the top of your book at him, eyebrows raised.

A few hours have passed since breakfast, and you've had at least seven phone calls since. The two of you are relaxing in the living room, you on one side of your L-shaped sofa and Elliot on the other.

"And why is this the first I'm hearing of it?" you respond, feeling rather hurt. You tell each other everything. You know the penis size of every boyfriend he's had. How can he share that information so easily yet let something like a date stay secret?

He cringes, and you just know you're not going to like what's coming next. "Because..." he hesitates, takes a deep breath, and rushes out, "BecauseitswithDanny." He says it so fast it almost doesn't register, but the name Danny sticks out like a sore thumb.

"What!?" you exclaim, book falling forgotten onto the floor as you sit up. You're completely shocked, and you imagine your expression says everything before you even open your mouth. "How can you—why would you want to after what he did?" You can't understand what's going through Elliot's head, but you seriously want to knock some sense into him.

"I tried hinting to you this morning!" Elliot tells you, sitting up. The magazine he'd been reading earlier falls onto his lap, his attention now completely on you. "I told you I missed him!"

You scoff at that. "A hint is, 'Oh, by the way, I'm thinking of going on a date with my ex.' Not, 'I'm going to tickle you with Danny's ass-feather, complain about missing him, and hope that you get the hint that I'm going out with him this weekend despite the fact he broke my heart!'" You take a deep breath, oxygen running low after that rant. "Look, I know it's none of my business—"

"Of course it's your business. You're my best friend."

"—I just don't want you to get hurt," you continue as you both stare at each other with similar expressions. You're both desperate for the other to understand how you're feeling without wanting to cause any upset. "I love you, honey...and it destroyed you when he left."

"He said he's sorry," Elliot tells you quietly, making you realize just how much they've been talking. A pang of hurt goes through your heart, knowing that Elliot felt like he couldn't talk to you about this. "He said it was a mistake, one he wouldn't make again. But I don't want to jump back into things so...I told him we'll start slow."

"Well," you nod slightly. "That's something, I guess." It comforts you to know that he isn't rushing into the relationship again. Maybe, if they start from scratch, it could work this time. Unfortunately, your gut tells you different. "I'm going to be honest with you, okay?"

Elliot gives you a lopsided smile, causing a single dimple to form on his cheek. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

You smile back for a moment before turning serious again. "I think...you're thinking with your heart and not with your head," you tell him softly. "I think you're in love with him, and you miss him, and you're not thinking rationally about this. Which I totally understand, honey. You love him; I know you can't help that. I just worry that Danny knows how you feel about him, and he's going to use it to his advantage." You watch Elliot's expression closely; he's nodding, letting you know he's listening.

You give your lip a quick nibble before continuing. "But if this is something you feel like you need to do, then I'll support you, you know that."

"Thanks, babe," he responds sincerely, but his eyes are sad. "You're right. I know you're right, but...my heart wants this so damn badly."

"What's your gut telling you to do?" you ask him curiously. You’ve always believed in following your instincts.

"Run," he answers with a painful laugh. "Run and don't look back because he's only doing this as a rebound."

You frown at the information. "Rebound?"

Elliot nods, tears filling his eyes. He crosses his legs underneath him, which surprises you given how skinny his jeans are. One arm goes to the back of the sofa while the other runs through his slick-backed hair. He pulls his lips into his mouth for a moment, a habit of his, before telling you, "Him and Voldemort broke up. Danny says he broke it off because he misses me, but I checked Voldemort's page, and it looks like he's gone and gotten himself a new guy."

You hold back a snort at his nickname for Gary. Voldemort. It suits him. From Elliot's information, you're guessing that Danny is only after a rebound, but Elliot doesn't want to admit it because he still wants to be with Danny.

"Honey..." you sigh, scooting across the sofa so you can give Elliot a cuddle. He immediately returns the gesture but stays seated, whereas you lean up on your knees, making you higher than him. You rest your head on top of his, your arms around his neck. You know you don't need to say anything. Elliot knows he's burying his head in the sand. You think he just needs to find out the hard way; otherwise, he'd always regret not trying.

"I'm here for you," you assure him. This is something he needs to do, and you can't protect him from it, no matter how much you want to.

"Thank you," he tells you tearfully. You can hear how upset he is, but he's trying to hold it back. You squeeze him tighter, wishing you could take away all his pain. "You're the best friend a guy could ask for."

Your lips curve at that. "I know," you joke because really, you're not that big-headed. "Now," you say as you pull away but keep your arms around his neck. "What do you say we turn our phones off for a while, get a Chinese, and watch some crappy chick flicks?"

His eyes are bloodshot and wet with tears, but the smile he gives you is genuine happiness. And that you completely understand because food makes you feel the same way. "I love you so much."

--

The film you end up watching is beyond cheesy, but the humor is awesome, and you find yourself giggling along. Your Chinese food is now in your overly-stuffed belly, and the only things left are the containers sitting on the coffee table in front of you.

You sit side-by-side with Elliot, shoulders touching, a leopard-print blanket draped over your laps. Both of you ordered a beer with the takeaway. It isn’t enough to get you drunk, but that wasn’t the plan since you need to turn your phones back on for work later.

By the time the film ends, Elliot seems to be in a much better mood. Hopefully, he’ll stay that way for the next few hours.

“Gosh,” Elliot starts, reaching behind the sofa to the side table where a lamp sits. He switches it on, making you both blink against the sudden brightness. “I haven’t laughed that hard in ages.”

“Same,” you say, squinting as your eyes adjust. Your muscles feel cramped, so you throw off the blanket and stretch. As you straighten your body, you begin to slide off the sofa but don’t bother stopping it. You let yourself slip onto the floor.

With the coffee table in the way, you have to arrange yourself so you’re lying between the sofa and the table. The wooden flooring is cold against your right arm, while the left side of your body enjoys the comfort of the fur rug.

“Weirdo,” Elliot snorts from above.

“Don’t judge,” you respond, letting out a yawn. Watching films always makes you tired. Maybe it strains your eyes. The floor is oddly tempting right now—so cozy—or maybe Elliot is right, and you’re just a weirdo.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Elliot speaks again, his foot nudging your side. “Can’t sleep now. We’ve got horny customers waiting.”

It’s only then you realize you’ve closed your eyes. “I’m up,” you mumble, forcing yourself to sit upright. The smell of Chinese food still lingers in the air. It was absolutely delicious, but your stomach protests now, begging you not to even inhale another whiff of it. You pat your belly proudly, knowing it did a good job handling the feast.

“Good,” Elliot says. “We gotta get to work.”

Neither of you moves.

“For fuck’s sake,” Elliot sighs after a moment, making you crack a smile. “It’s so much effort. I hate... effort,” he says, spitting the word as if it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

You tilt your head to look at him better. “Just think about all those handsome, horny men stroking their dicks, waiting for you to—”

“I’m up!” Elliot exclaims, jumping to his feet. His hands dive into his pockets as you laugh loudly. “Christ, where’s my phone? My customers need me!” He’s being overly dramatic on purpose, and it makes you giggle even harder.

“It’s not funny!” he tells you, though he’s trying his hardest not to smile. “Who’s going to give those guys their orgasms? This is a serious situation!”

You giggle again, but then you try to put on a straight face. “You’re right. There could be a riot!” you gasp dramatically. “I’ll get on the phone to the prime minister right away!”

“And the president!” Elliot chimes in, but then you make eye contact, and the two of you burst into laughter. Sure, you can act pretty silly sometimes, but it’s healthy. At this age, you feel more mature than most people your age, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be childish once in a while.

Once you both calm down, you know playtime is over. It’s really time to get to work. Sighing, you take Elliot’s hand when he offers it to you, and he easily pulls you up from the floor.

“Thanks, kid,” you tell him, standing on your tiptoes to ruffle his hair. You know he hates when you do that.

He lets out a high-pitched squeak and backs away. “You know my rules!”

“No one touches the hair,” you recite dutifully.

“Yes!” he says, rolling his eyes. “And yet you always forget. And what do you mean ‘kid’? I’m older than you!”

“Yes, well, mentally you’re the age of ten, so…”

“Bitch,” he says, lightly punching your arm, and you laugh.

“Is that all you’ve got?” you tease.

He plants his hands on his hips, cocking a hip at you and raising an eyebrow. “Honey, you can’t handle what I’ve got.”

“I’m heading upstairs. Gonna talk dirty to some dudes, grab a shower, change into my pajamas, get some more horny people off, read a book, then go to bed.”

Elliot takes the phone and nods. “Sounds like a damn good plan,” he says, holding up his hand.

You smile and give him a high-five.

--

One of the hardest parts of your job is keeping things fresh and coming up with new ideas. That’s why you love working with Elliot. He’s a guy; he knows what men like, so whenever you feel like you need something different, he’s your go-to.

New customers are always the easiest to please. No matter what you say, it’s fresh to them. Exciting. It’s your recurring customers who require more effort. There are only so many ways to describe a blowjob before it starts feeling repetitive. When you get that feeling of déjà vu, you worry your client does too.

Oh, and trying to figure out what a guy likes? That’s another challenge. Sometimes, it feels like a seriously fucked-up game of I-Spy.

“I spy with my little eye…” Imaginary-you says in a hopeful voice. “A foot fetish? No? Fuck.” You’re rocking back and forth now, losing hope. “I spy with my little—oh, I know! Voyeurism?” you practically beg, thinking about pulling your brains out with a spoon if this doesn’t work. “…Golden showers?”

Okay, maybe you’re being a bit overdramatic, but you get the point. It’s frustrating, especially when the client is shy and doesn’t know what they like themselves.

Deciding you’re getting cranky—probably because you’re tired—you decide to finish half an hour early tonight. You shouldn’t, especially after already losing a few hours of work earlier, but you’ve made enough money to cover your half of rent and bills this month. You’ve still got a week to earn more for food and anything else you need.

So yeah, you’ll finish early.

Yawning, you pull the covers out from underneath your ass before throwing them over yourself. You’re already in your pajamas—a loose pair of pink shorts and a white strap top—and your book sits next to you, waiting to be read.

But just as you pick up your phone, ready to turn it off, a new number flashes on the screen. You stare at it for a moment, wondering if it’s worth leaving. The problem is, with it being a new customer, leaving a bad impression could mean they wouldn’t come back.

“Damn,” you mutter under your breath, knowing the professional businesswoman in you can’t risk losing what might end up being a recurring customer. As far as you know, this phone call could change your career. You snort at that. Highly unlikely, but it’s going to bring in extra money, which is a good enough reason. “Just this last one, then I’m going to bed,” you tell yourself.

You place the earphones back into your ears and press the green button on your touchscreen. “Hey there, handsome.” There’s a pause, and you briefly wonder if they’ve decided to hang up when he finally speaks.

“Hey,” he responds simply, sounding kind of awkward.

“You caught me just in time,” you say naughtily.

“Oh?” he sounds intrigued, though the awkwardness remains. He’s probably just shy or clueless about what to do. “Why is that?”

For a moment, you’re taken aback by how much you’re attracted to his voice. That’s never happened to you before, and he’s barely said five words. Masculine, educated, and gruff. Swoon.

“Um...” You try to get back into character while scolding yourself. The conversation has only just started; you can’t screw it up already. Get your head in the game, girl. “Because I’m wet and needing a man to help me out.” Internally, you wince. That’s pretty weak considering how good you usually are at this.

He doesn’t seem to think so because he releases a sexy, “Shit. I—” He’s breathing heavily, and you wait for him to finish, sensing he has something else he wants to say. “I don’t know if this was a good idea,” he admits after a moment.

Fuck, you’re losing him, and you’re losing him fast. You need to think quickly if you want to keep him on the line. You don’t want to admit it, but your interest in this man goes beyond the money you’re earning from him. He’s ignited something in you. “Wait! Please,” you breathe. “I—I’m so horny. I need you. Please? Just stroke your dick for me. I need it.” There you go; you knew you could do better.

“Damn it,” he hisses, and then there’s the sound of a belt buckle, and you know you’ve got him. “What’d you need, sweetie? Tell me,” he demands, and for the first time since doing this job, you feel a wave of lust hit you.

Swallowing in an attempt to bring moisture back to your dry mouth—it all seems to have headed south, if you know what you mean—you respond truthfully, “You.” Jesus, you shouldn’t be doing this, but before you can stop yourself, your left hand is slipping underneath your strap top and finding your breasts. “I need you, please—” You pause for a second. You don’t know if it will work, but if you’re right about him, this is going to go down a treat. For both him and for you. “—sir.”

And you’re right because he lets out a loud groan, making you squeeze your thighs together in response. Jesus, you haven’t wanted someone this badly in what feels like forever.

“Fuck, you’re going to be such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

You’re already nodding before he finishes his sentence. “Yes, god, yes.” You move your right hand so it’s also caressing your breasts. In this moment, you completely love your headset, which allows you to talk and touch at the same time.

“Mm, you’re so obedient, baby,” he tells you, approval evident in his husky voice. “Tell me, Princess, tell me are your nipples hard?”

Your pussy clenches almost painfully, and you try to remind it to calm down because it’s only just started. “They’re hard. So hard they’re showing through my shirt.”

You’re getting so hazy with lust you’re not sure what to do with yourself, so you pinch your nipples roughly and almost cry out in frustration, knowing it would be so much better if he were doing it for you.

“Damn, that’s beautiful, sweetheart,” he tells you, and your belly does a funny flip. “You touchin’ them? Want you to roll them between your fingers. Not too hard, just enough pressure to leave you needing more.”

It’s not easy to admit, but you think he’s better at this than you are, and it crosses your mind that you should probably be paying him. “I already am,” you confess with a guilty laugh. “Your voice... it’s, uh, fucking hot.” You hesitate because you’re not sure if you can say that to him. It’s not very professional, but then you remind yourself that you’re only second-guessing it because you’re actually getting off on it.

"You that eager for me, princess?" he sounds pretty damn pleased with himself. "Tell me how it feels. You know, I'm stroking my dick to this. Getting hard over the noises you're making, and the pretty picture you're giving me."

The image of this man, who you are undoubtedly attracted to, stroking his hard cock over the thought of you pleasuring yourself drives you crazy. He seems so generous, something rare nowadays.

"It feels..." you breathe, trying to find the right words. "Like it's not enough. I need more. Christ." You throw your head back against your pillows, frustrated with yourself and the way you're acting. Completely unprofessional.

"Shh," he coos softly. "I've got you. I'm going to take care of you. Okay, princess?" He's so freaking good at this. You're practically shivering in anticipation of what he might say next. "I want you to get naked for me. And tell me, baby, you got any toys?"

"Um," you think about his question as you pull your strap top over your head. It gets caught on the earphone wire. "Wait a second." You quickly untangle yourself before placing the earphones back into your ears. Moving on to your shorts, you push them eagerly down your legs. "Yes, I have one of those little bullet vibrators."

"Good. I want you to get it for me, princess."

You bite your lip for a moment, feeling extremely dirty about what you're about to do. "Yes, sir..." you say before reaching toward your side cabinet and opening the bottom drawer. In an old, tiny, purple purse with a single zip sits the bullet. You take it out before getting comfortable on the bed once more. "I've got it."

He hums in approval. "Now, I'm more than happy to go slow, make this last, but I'm sensing that my girl wants to come hard and fast, am I right?"

You suck in an unsteady breath. Being called his girl really shouldn't make you feel as giddy as it does. Why and how does a complete stranger have such an effect on you? You're never one of those girls who fall for a man's charm easily. Yet here you are, swooning over a guy because he's good at talking dirty and has a sexy voice.

Apparently you were easier to seduce than you originally thought.

"Yes," you choke out, wondering if you'd wake up if you pinched yourself hard enough. You wouldn't try it, though, just in case you were dreaming. You really aren't ready for it to end. "God, yes."

"All right then," he chuckles, the sound warm. "I'll do what you want this time. Next time, what I say goes, okay, princess?"

Before you have a chance to respond, he's giving you more orders, and in no way are you complaining.

"I want you to spread your pretty little thighs for me, baby." His voice, and the way he's breathing, gives you the impression that he's getting just as excited as you are.

"Okay," you squeak rather embarrassingly. Cool air hits your most sensitive area as you do what he orders, your hands resting against the inside of your thighs, fingers clutching your vibrator as you wait impatiently for his instructions.

You have yet to turn the bullet on, but it already feels like your insides are vibrating.

"Now, take your hand and spread your pussy lips for me."

And there you go, once again speechless—and breathless—because of this man and his words. Seriously, he could do this job better than you. You have to admit, you're storing parts of this conversation away for both personal and professional use later on.

Your hands automatically do as he says, your body desperate for some kind of release. You feel overwhelmed and don't know where to start or what to do in order to relieve it. Thank God you have him to guide you; otherwise, you might combust. Then again, if he wasn't here, you wouldn't have this problem in the first place.

"Okay," you breathe, feeling more and more like a client than a sex line operator. But taking control is obviously something he enjoys, so who are you to put a stop to this? What’s the saying? ‘Customers are always right?’ Well, you absolutely, completely, one hundred percent agree!

"Stretch yourself out," he continues, his voice starting to strain. "Force your sexy little clit out of its hood. I don't want it hiding when you start fucking yourself. All right, princess?"

Fuckkk. Just when you think he can't possibly get any hotter, he goes and says that. Your pussy feels like it’s on fire; your clit is so swollen it hurts. You wouldn't be surprised if you came the second you put any pressure on your nub.

"Now," he continues. "Turn your bullet on and press it to your clit. You're not allowed to stop until your legs are shaking and you're calling out my name. Got it?" You can hear how hard he's pumping his dick now. For a moment, you feel guilty. Are you neglecting him? But then you remind yourself again that this is what he wants.

You know you're not going to last long. You're too excited. Not to mention, it’s been a while since you've spent some time with your right hand. You twist the top of your bullet, putting it on the highest speed. You know you're worked up enough to take it; usually, you start on low and build your way up because you're overly sensitive. Right now, you know it won’t be an issue.

The bullet starts to shake violently, but the noise is low, like a quiet buzzing. Your left hand holds yourself open, fingers forming a 'V' and spreading your lips as far as you can, just as he instructed.

You don’t need to tell him what you’re doing; the moment you press the bullet to yourself, a half-gasp, half-moan escapes your lips. You’re right—you definitely won’t last long. The vibrations are intense, and you draw small circles on yourself, pushing yourself even closer to the edge.

“Damnit,” he hisses. You’re quickly learning it’s one of his favorite words. “You sound fucking sexy. Wish I could see you. Watch you,” he inhales sharply. He’s just as close as you are.

“What’s—” you attempt to speak but end up gasping instead. Wetness gathers below, soaking your entrance and trailing toward your clit. The added lubrication lets the bullet slide more freely around your nub, the sensation unbelievable. “What’s—”

“Princess?” he chokes, likely having the same problem as you.

So close now. So fucking close. You just need a little more. The rhythm is perfect, and you can hear him breathing in your ear, letting out the occasional groan. It’s too damn much, but you can’t let yourself go—not without— “What’s your name?”

"Joel."

"Fuck - Joel!"

You see stars, as cliché as it sounds. Your whole body breaks into spasms, your left hand falling to the sheets and gripping the fabric desperately. Your right hand forces the bullet between your slippery lips, and your thighs clamp around your hand. Incoherent words tumble from your mouth: “Oh god,” “Fuck,” and Joel’s name.

As you come back down to earth, you can hear that Joel barely followed two seconds behind.

“Damn it, Princess. You’re so fucking good. Sound so pretty. Done so well,” the words spill from his mouth like sweet wine. He probably isn’t even aware of them. The sound of him fisting his dick is irregular and off-beat. “Fuck. Damn. You’re such a good girl.”

You remove the bullet from yourself—if you leave it there any longer, it’s going to become painful—and let out a giggle. Your cheeks are flushed, your body buzzing with pleasure. Lightheaded and giddy, you think to yourself that this guy must be amazing in bed. “That was fucking amazing.”

“Yeah,” he laughs breathlessly. “You can say that again. I can’t believe I almost hung up.”

“That would have been bad,” you reply, wondering if your heart will slow down anytime soon. “Very, very bad.”

“Oh yeah,” he agrees, then pauses before adding, “Let me ask you something.”

“Go ahead.” You hesitate for only a moment. It’s unusual for clients to stick around afterward, but you’ve quickly realized this guy isn’t a normal caller.

“What’s your real name?” he asks. “No way is it ‘Angel.’” He snorts, finding your alias hilarious.

Is Angel that bad of a name? You think it’s kind of cool. The company is called Angels and Demons, with you being the Angel. Elliot’s alias is Daemon because it’s close to “demon” but sounds way better. When a customer calls, they get an automated voice instructing them to press the number for their chosen operator, complete with a brief description.

You’re losing your train of thought; you can’t give him your real name, can you? It’s against the rules. If Jane found out, she’d be pissed. She wouldn’t fire you, but her anger is almost as bad. With the image of facing her wrath in mind, you tell Joel, “I’m sorry, I can’t.” Your tone is regretful because you’d really like to tell him. “My boss would…it’s against the rules.”

“Ah,” he responds, masking the disappointment. “It’s all right. I understand.”

“Sorry,” you apologize again, hating the idea of letting him down, especially after how amazing he just made you feel.

"Seriously, Princess, it’s fine,” he reassures you, easing the guilt. “I had a really good time tonight. You can bet I’ll be expecting a repeat tomorrow.” You just know that if you could see him right now, his eyes would sparkle with mischief.

Your pussy throbs again just thinking about it. God, he makes you insatiable. “I’m really, really looking forward to it,” you tell him honestly.

“Me too.” There’s a brief pause, then, “Goodnight, Princess.”

“Goodnight, Joel.” Hanging up the phone, you place it against your lips, letting everything sink in. Alone with your thoughts, you can’t believe you just had full-blown phone sex with a client. It’s so unlike you. It’s more like something Elliot would do. Speaking of…

“Elliot, you won’t believe what just happened!” you shout at the top of your lungs.

[albinoxherbalist]

"Morning." Rose greeted Regis when he came downstairs, but quiet enough not to wake Dettlaff. "I slept rather well and Dettlaff didn't wake up once. At least as far as I could tell." she smiled a little. It was good he could get some decent rest. He needed it.

She was making hashbrowns and some eggs for breakfast. Rose reallyneeded to use up those eggs. Usually she would have used more with Hunter here, but since he didn't come yet, she still had plenty of them left. "I made some tea." she spoke, gesturing towards the pot on the dinette table. "Breakfast will be ready soon."

Starter for @vampyrs-and-witchers

Winter was almost there and the weather made that very clear. It was getting colder and there were even a few instances of snow falling, altough it would melt the next day. Rose had done her best to prepare for the winter, as she had a feeling it would be a rough one. There was plenty of firewood, she had stockpiled food and other resources that might be needed to make it through the winter. Usually, her brother would have come home by now, as he usually wintered with her, but he didn't come yet. From the last letter he had sent her, it seemed like he might not come at all or maybe just near the end of the season, as he had a pretty lucrative job as a guard. For how long, he couldn't tell. This slightly disappointed Rose, even though she'd never admit it. She liked her brother's company and missed him dearly. It had been months since they last saw each other. Seemed like for the time being, she had to content being alone in her cottage. It was another cold evening. The sun had almost set and she was busy cooking a stew. She managed to catch a rabbit that morning and wouldn't want it to go to waste. Rose never really liked hunting or killing, but eating was a necessity after all. As she was sitting by the fire, reading as she waited for the stew to be ready, she heard noises outside. At first she thought it was an animal, but it sounded more like footsteps on her porch and she could hear faint whispering. There was no way this was her brother. Hunter would just enter straight away or announce himself. This was more than one person too. Curious, but also cautious, she approached the door. "Hello?" she asked. "Anyone out there?"

Part of her became a little bit scared. She was alone in her cottage and completely defenseless. Rose wasn't much of a fighter and she had always relied on her cottage being hidden in the woods, far away from the next town. What if those were bandits? Then again who travels through a forest, way off the paths? It was strange, but it didn't help her nerves. She leaned against the door as she waited for an answer.

[warningsine]

Wait a second. Glinda is lesbian in the book? How many characters are gay?

Glinda’s sexuality in the "Wicked Years" series is not explicitly defined, but there's room to interpret her as either a closeted lesbian or bisexual.

What you need to understand about Maguire's books is that the default orientation is not heterosexuality, but bisexuality.

So even when a character's sexuality is not stated, never assume they're straight until proven otherwise.

Liir, Elphaba's son, is explicitly bisexual. He has sex with Trism, a soldier, and often pines for him.

While he is unconscious, a nun, Candle, rapes Liir to save him from dying and impregnates herself.

(Liir sleeping beside Candle)

Elphaba's parents were in some sort of 3-way relationship with Turtle Heart:

(he is talking to Elphaba in the last one)

There's talk about Elphaba being intersex when she's born:

(Fiyero talking about Elphaba's genitals and wondering whether his tattoos rubbed off on her there or if it's "a scar")

Later in life, she's quite androgynous and defies traditional gender roles.

Elphaba is not supposed to be conventionally attractive, yet, both Fiyero and Glinda find her "beautiful."

Rain's (Liir's daughter) sexuality isn't stated, but her relationship with Tip is the heart of the last book and there are romantic undertones in their connection.

Who is Tip? A young boy Rain meets, except by the end of the book, we learn that Tip is actually Princess Ozma, the rightful ruler of Oz, who had been transformed into a boy by Mombi (the witch who raised Tip) to hide her identity. Upon this revelation, Tip is magically transformed back into Ozma.

Then there are Crope and Tibbett, flamboyant gay students at Shiz University and friends of both Elphaba and Glinda in "Wicked." They're a couple.

Tibbett sleeps with a male Animal and then dies to a disease that sounds like HIV complications.

There are other minor/side characters that it's implied they aren't straight.

But back to Glinda.

She's a background character. One of the things the musical has over the books is that it made Glinda a coprotagonist, but it also made her shallower (bookverse Glinda seems like an airhead, but she's actually much smarter), so check and mate?

Maguire about Glinda and Elphaba:

It's open to interpretation whether Glinda is in love with Elphaba. (Personally, I think she is, given how she:

waits for her and hopes against hope that Elphaba is alive and will come to free her from her imprisonment (to the point that Rain, Elphie's granddaughter, and other characters think that she lost it due to her age),

helps Liir and later Rain, whom she raises as her own child for some time.)

She definitely has romantic tension with Elphaba and there's a kiss--two kisses--when they part ways.

It's also open to interpretation whether they slept together or not. The Midwife says to the younger characters that they might have been more than friends.

Glinda gets married, but it's a strategic decision. Her marriage is devoid of passion. There are rumors that she did it to hide her true interests.

When she is young (at school), she lets Boq kiss her, but then she regrets it.

Glinda and Fiyero are not a thing in the books. Only Elphie has an affair with him.

There's a brief moment where Glinda fantasizes about sex with a rich guy (when Morrible talks about her future) except it is unclear whether that thought arouses or repulses her.

So, yes, there's a good chance she's not straight.

[drmaddict]

Black Sheeps Together

Summary: (Y/n) and Aegon have always been the black sheeps of the family. But they have each other.

Word Count: 827

Author's note: just fluff, no plot, nothing, just comfort for the author of having someone to be fucked up together with

They both sat silently at the table, looking listless into space.

They had endured the usual expressions of disappointment from there families.

Aegon reached for his wine cup with stubborn eyes. She twisted her wedding ring on her finger and looked at the flickering candle in front of her.

She was too volatile for her family. She was interested in too many things at the same time and now had a wide-ranging but sporadic knowledge. He was only interested in things that were not valuable at court.

No one saw any talent in them. Not even their mothers.

Rhaenyra and Alicent had been furious when they found out about them.

Sir Arryk had found them both. Intertwined and loving each other. They were the black sheep of the family. Always had been. It bound them together. It united them. It created an understanding and it created a home. They knew that the other understood. They knew they could find a safe place in each other.

Their mothers only saw the shame they almost brought upon the house. Back when they were children of ten and seven and ten and five, they decided they would marry. That Aegon would not follow his mother's plan and marry Haelena. Back then, when they found their way to each other in the night and consummated a marriage, that had not yet existed. Back then, when they saw their hope in each other.

The world now only saw (Y/n)'s inability to give Aegon a son after her womb was broken following the birth of her first child, her daughter.

They both sat in the hall and ate with the others. Even though Aegon drank more than he ate and (Y/n) dwelled more on her thoughts than dwelling in reality.

Only his hand managed to bring her back to the here and now.

Her eyes rested on his violet irises, which looked at her, exhausted and sad.

She smiled sadly. He squeezed her hand. He leaned towards her.

"I would rather sleep in a latrine of flea bottom, than listen to even one more eulogy to Lucerya and Aemond."

She smirked. She quickly pressed her lips together to suppress her grin. "They're almost as pleasant to endure as the fish from that yellow tavern.", she smirked.

Aegon chuckled. "Mother really thought you were pregnant again."

"She'd think the sun was rising in the west, too, if it meant she could still hope for an heir of yours."

Aegon grinned. "And they say we're naïve."

She brought his hand to her lips and pressed a soft kiss to it. "So we are... Just not when it comes to matters of the marriage bed.", she smirked.

Aegon bit his lip, but then shook his head with a grin. "Is Jaehaera already in bed?", he asked.

"I want to check on her when this boring play here is over. I don't think she'll be ready for bed by then. You know that if you try to force her into it, she won't sleep at all."

Aegon kissed her forehead. "I can read something to her.", he murmured.

She closed her eyes. Savouring the feel of his lips. "She loves your stories."

He smiled. But his eyes became cloudy again. "Sometimes I wish she could stay like this forever."

"Defiant and smart-aleck?"

That did make him smile. "Safe and uninteresting for the rest of this table... And defiant and smart-aleck... Only she can drive Aemond to despair with a single word."

She giggled. "She just knows that the poison is in the dose. She could drive a maester with a necklace of pure gold to despair, if she asks 'why' often enough."

Aegon smirked.

Later that evening, after their daughter slept ,after being promised an outing with Sunfyre and Aegon in the morning, they lay in their bed, enjoying the silence without any comments on their person.

"Do you think she'll be better?", murmured Aegon into her hair.

She turned her face towards him and nudged his nose with her own. "What do you mean?"

"Jaehaera... Do you think they'll like her more than us? Do you think she... will be better than us?" His eyes were closed, but the small crease between his eyebrows betrayed his sadness.

She put her arms around his body and pulled herself close to him. "I don't know if they'll see how wonderful she is. We can only hope."

"Hmm." he grumbled and snuggled more into his wife's embrace. "Do you think we'll ever do anything right?"

She left the question unanswered for a while. Aegon was beginning to think she'd fallen asleep when she mumbled her answer. "We could try something that no one in this family has ever done before."

"And what would that be?"

"We could just try to be good parents."

Aegon sighed with a grin. "We can try." He kissed her on the forehead, realizing, that their marriage was the best decision they'd both ever made.

[dreamdragonkadia]

Give me Rook who is struggling to grieve and is angry with the world

Crow!Rook

Spoilers for Veilguard

It really was a funny thing, when you thought about it—the Demon of Vyrantium, Lucanis Dellamorte, half-asleep against your legs. The same man who scoffed at the very idea of rest, claiming he never truly slept. And yet, here he was, his features softened by the edge of dreams, his breathing steady as your fingers threaded through his hair, nails gently scratching at his scalp. It was peaceful, in a way that felt stolen—like a moment ripped from a story you had no right to claim.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this kind of calm. Not since you’d been pulled into this whole tangled web of gods and schemes. A bitter laugh caught in your throat at the thought. Would it be wrong to admit how angry you were about it all? At Solas? At Varric? Especially Varric. The bastard. For dragging you into this mess, for making you care so damn much. For giving you a name—Rook—and then vanishing, leaving you to deal with it all alone. You knew it was grief talking, but that didn’t make it any easier to swallow. Damn Varric and his stupid, sentimental names. Damn him for seeing something in you and putting a label on it that you couldn’t shake. And damn him most of all for leaving you behind.

You swallowed hard, forcing the sadness back down before it could claw its way to the surface. That wasn’t a luxury you could afford—not here, not now. A Crow’s first lesson: never let them see what you’re feeling. You’d learned it well. Too well, maybe. Even Viago had grumbled more than once about how impossible it was to read you. A damn fine Crow, indeed.

But fine Crows didn’t sit around like this, did they? Stroking the hair of a man who had somehow, against all odds, become too close to your heart. A man like Lucanis, who could slip a blade between your ribs as easily as he breathed. Not that you believed he’d ever do it—not now, not to you. He was too close, too vulnerable. And you were no better, your guard lowered in ways that would have once terrified you. It was almost endearing, really, if you ignored how dangerous it was. For both of you.

You sighed, shifting slightly, and Lucanis stirred, his brow furrowing before he relaxed again. The warmth of him seeped into your legs, keeping you in this fleeting moment that could end at any given time. You’d never admit it aloud, but maybe you didn’t mind it. Maybe, for once, you could let yourself have this. Just for a little while longer.

Because who knew when the next storm would hit?

Your fingers paused for a moment, hovering just above his hair. “I thought you didn’t sleep,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lucanis grumbled something unintelligible, shifting again so that his head rested more firmly against your lap. “I don’t,” he said after a beat, though his voice was sluggish, the words drawn out. “This isn’t sleeping. It’s... resting. There’s a difference.”

You snorted softly, the corner of your mouth twitching. “Sure, because this is so different from sleeping. Next, you’ll tell me you don’t dream either.”

“I don’t,” he muttered, but there was no bite to it, just the lazy drawl of someone too close to sleep to argue properly. “Dreams are for the dead. And Spite.”

“Charming,” you said, rolling your eyes even though he couldn’t see it. “And yet here you are, practically drooling on me.”

He opened one eye, pinning you in place. “If I drooled, Rook, you’d be the first to know.” His lips curled into a faint smile before the eye slid shut again. “You’re too good at reminding me.”

Your fingers resumed their lazy path through Lucanis’s hair, less to soothe him and more to distract yourself. “You’re lucky you’re cute like this,” you said, letting the teasing edge into your voice. “Otherwise, I’d shove you off and call it a mercy.”

“Cute?” He scoffed, though it came out more like a rumble. “If you think this is cute, you’ve got terrible taste.”

“Better than none at all,” you shot back, earning another quiet grunt. He didn’t respond further, his breathing evening out again, and you were struck by how utterly still he seemed. It was unnerving, seeing someone like him so vulnerable. The pride of house Dellamorte, who always carried himself like he was a moment away from striking. The Demon of Vyrantium, who’d slit a man’s throat before he’d let anyone close enough to see him like this.

But here he was, trusting you with this fragile piece of himself.

Your fingers slowed, your gaze drifting. “You know, I used to hate silence,” you admitted quietly, not really expecting a response. “Too much room for thinking. For remembering.” You swallowed hard, the words threatening to stick in your throat. “But now? Sometimes I think it’s the only thing keeping me sane.”

Lucanis shifted, his head nestling slightly deeper into your lap, and for a moment, you thought he’d finally slipped fully into sleep. The room settled around you, quiet save for the soft rhythm of his breaths. But then a voice—low, guttural, and unmistakably not Lucanis.

“Silence. Is luxury. Enjoy it. While it lasts.”

Spite.

Your eyes flicked down, half-expecting some shift in the demon’s form, but Lucanis didn’t move, not even a twitch. Instead, you could’ve sworn the faintest rumble, like a purr, came from him. The thought of it almost made you laugh.

“Guess that answers whether or not you’re awake,” you muttered under your breath, though Spite didn’t bother responding. It wasn’t like he cared about conversation unless it served his purpose. “Oh, I’m sure silence won’t last,” you said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Not with rampaging gods breathing down my neck. Not with everything falling apart.”

Lucanis—or rather Spite—opened his eyes, just a sliver, those unnerving purple irises locking onto yours. There was something uncomfortably knowing in that gaze, something that made your stomach twist even though you knew Spite wasn’t a threat to you. At least, not right now.

“Then don’t. Fall apart. With it,” Spite said simply. “You are better. Rook.”

The nickname made something shift. You weren’t sure whether to feel comforted or suffocated by it anymore. But before you could decide, Spite’s presence seemed to wane, the glow of his eyes dimming as Lucanis stirred, letting out a soft grunt. For a fleeting moment, you thought he’d woken fully, but no. He merely shifted, his head turning slightly, and let out another one of those quiet, almost purring noises.

You shook your head, exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “Great. I’m getting pep talks from a demon now,” you mumbled. “How far have I fallen?”

There was no answer, not from Lucanis—nor Spite, either. It left you alone with thoughts you weren’t ready to face.

[vroomvro0mferrari]

LN4 | Vexing Vacation – Part 7

Summary: When you agreed to join your brother on his vacation, sharing a room with his best friend wasn’t part of the plan. Now, that you’re constantly stuck with Lando and his relentless teasing, you’re not sure whether you want to strangle him or kiss him.

Lando Norris x Fewtrell!Reader, one-bed trope, a lot of banter and a hint of forced proximity :)

WC: 2.7K

Warnings: None, I think!

A/N: Thanks to everyone who read the entire series, and for being patient with me for this last chapter! I had some trouble writing it, but I hope it's up to standard :) Enjoy!

Part 1 | Part 6 | Masterlist

Y/N’s brain was fuzzy when she woke up the next morning, as though a fog had settled over her. The room was dim, curtains ruffling slightly from the breeze drifting through the open space. She felt warm and comfy in the big bed until she realised why – she was cuddled up to Lando again. Her first instinct was to pull away till she remembered the night before. The fight, the club, the kiss... They had kissed. She had finally admitted her feelings for Lando, and he had felt the same. 

Her lips twitched into a giddy smile the thought, and if her leg wasn’t stuck between Lando’s she probably would have kicked her feet in excitement. Instead, she tightened her grip around Lando’s waist and cuddled closer, pressing her nose against his back as she breathed in his scent. It was only a few more minutes before Lando stirred, his sleepy confusion melting into a lazy smile at the unfamiliar but welcome feeling of her arms wrapped around him.

“Good morning,” he grumbled, turning over to face the woman, his voice still rough with sleep.

“Hi,” she mumbled shyly as Lando pulled her closer.

“How are you feeling this fine morning?” Lando asked her teasingly.

“Good, you?”

“Hm, me too. Especially with you lying next to me,” he replied, grinning cheekily.

Y/N blushed at his blatant flirting – had he always been this obvious? She tried to hide her flushed face in his chest, but Lando had already seen it. He chuckled softly, running a hand through her hair affectionately. He couldn’t be happier: he had the girl of his dreams lying against him, shy and adorable in the way that made his chest ache. After their moment on the beach yesterday, he certainly hadn’t seen this coming.

“We should get ready, no?” Y/N mumbled though she made no move to leave his arms. 

“Don’t want to leave the bed yet,” Lando murmured back, tightening his hold on her slightly.

She chuckled. “Well, I think I’d like some breakfast soon. Don’t you?”

“Don’t they have room service here?”

“Lando,” Y/N tutted, resting her chin on his chest so she could watch him, “don’t be ridiculous.”

Lando sighed dramatically. “Fine, but I’m not doing this willingly,” he complained before getting up. 

They got ready slowly, taking their time as they got dressed, talking about unimportant things as they waited for the elevator. They walked to the hotel restaurant leisurely, savouring their short moment alone before they saw the others.

“Good morning,” Y/N said cheerfully as she slid into an empty seat at the table. 

“Good morning, indeed," Pietra replied, her smirk giving away her suspicion at Y/N’s unusually chirpy behaviour. “Good morning, indeed. "You're in a good mood. Sleep well?” She asked, one eyebrow raised suggestively.

Y/N, unlike her oblivious brother, caught the meaning behind it straight away, a flush coming over her face. “I slept fine,” she replied quickly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she glanced at her brother. Thank God he never paid attention.

“How was your night?” She deflected, remembering the not-so-secret kisses between her brother and his girlfriend in the elevator. Max smiled cheekily, placing an arm on the back of Pietra’s chair before answering smugly, “Very good.” 

Safe to say, Y/N immediately regretted that question, her smile falling from her face straight away. She cleared her throat and shifted awkwardly in her seat. “Right.”

“Any ideas for our last day here?” She continued, desperate to steer the conversation away from last night.

“I mean, it’s rather warm today. We could go to the beach again?” Lando suggested, sending Y/N a discreet wink when she looked at him. Of course, he’d want to – he surely remembered how she’d looked at him yesterday.

“Again? Isn’t there something else we could do?”

“What? You didn’t enjoy the beach? I thought you quite liked the view,” Lando teased, his tone so smug it took all Y/N’s effort not to roll her eyes. “Well, I suppose we could go golfing again,” he continued after pretending to think for a second.

She groaned. “No. I’m not golfing again, especially since you won’t let me drive the cart. Unless,” she added sweetly, batting her eyelashes, “you’ve changed your mind?” Lando merely shook his head, eyes wide as if he’d do anything to avoid that from ever happening again.

Y/N sighed. “Beach it is, then.”

Getting ready for their day trip felt familiar; Lando leaning casually against the doorjamb, pretending to watch her pack her bag while his gaze flitted over her, lingering on the way her cover-up barely concealed her figure. The way his hand rested on her back as they crossed the street, his eyes watching her through the rear-view mirror as he drove – the only difference with yesterday was that they were now… Dating? Y/N wasn’t entirely sure, though. They had talked about their feelings, and that they were mutual, but they hadn’t confirmed where they stood now.

Y/N walked beside Pietra as they headed down the beach in search of the perfect spot to set up. “So, what exactly happened between you and Lando last night? You two seemed very close this morning – closer than ever before, I think. And no more fighting than usual… So? Did you make up or make out?” Pietra said with a mischievous smile as Y/N blushed at her directness.

“Both, I guess,” she mumbled. “But don’t tell Max, we’re not official yet, I think.” Her eyebrows furrowed as she spoke, mentally going over the conversation again.

“You think?” Pietra asked, cocking a brow.

“Well, we admitted we like each other and agreed we didn’t want the kiss to be a one-time thing, but he didn’t exactly ask me to be his girlfriend or anything. So… I think we’re dating? Maybe?”

“Look at you,” Pietra said excitedly, “you’re dating Lando Norris! And you made out? I’m so proud of you!” The smile on her face was big and victorious as she squeezed her closer in a side hug.

Y/N laughed at the expression. “Well, if it weren’t for you, I don’t think we’d have gotten together anytime soon.”

“Hm, I second that.”

“Right? Lando’s not good at flirting, no matter how much he thinks he is.”

Pietra looked at her incredulously. “I hate to say it, but I think you were the problem, babe. You’re as oblivious as your brother; didn’t notice he was in love with you for years. He literally told you straight to your face several times.”

Y/N scoffed. “He did not. Besides, whatever he calls flirting is clearly teasing, or just being annoying.”

“Whatever you say... I won’t tell Max, by the way. But just so you know, he approves.”

“He does? That’s a relief.”

“Yeah, I think he told Lando a few days ago that he knew Lando likes you, and that he was okay with it. So, you’re good. Doesn’t mean you should be kissing or touching in front of him though. But I guess you know that, with how he reacts to you being around men and all.”

Y/N nodded, before thanking her. They settled down in a place on the beach not much later. Y/N layed down her towel, settling down under the shadow of the parasol and rummaging through her bag for her book. She was about to open it when Lando stopped her, pulling her up from her towel before she could get comfortable. “Let’s go swimming this time? Please?” He asked her.

“But my book… I want to finish it before we leave tomorrow,” she mumbled with a pout.

Lando’s hand slid down her arm to hold her hand, slightly pulling on it. “Just a little while,” he tried again. “Or do I have to steal it away from you again?” 

Y/N’s pout morphed into a sneaky smile at his need for attention before she sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes. “Alright, then.”

Lando grinned at her response, waiting for her to rid of her cover-up. He was watching her intently, taking in her beauty, the way her hair moved in the warm breeze, and how the sunlight lit up her skin. His adoring gaze was obvious, even to Max, and although Max already knew about Lando’s crush on his sister (or rather, his infatuation), Lando didn’t want to provoke him. He quickly averted his eyes, feigning interest in the shells littering the beach, and pulled Y/N along as soon as she was ready, wanting to be away from Max’s prying sooner rather than later.

Once the water was up to their waists and Max and Pietra were far away, Lando tugged Y/N closer, planting a soft kiss on her lips. She reciprocated immediately, holding onto his shoulders tightly while his hands steadied her in the rocking water.  

“Lando,” Y/N murmured between his kisses, and he only hummed in response.

“We need to be careful, Lan,” she said when he finally gave her enough space to pull away.

A frown came over his face. “Careful? What do you mean?”

“Max,” Y/N clarified. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to let him in on this just yet. I mean, I’m not even sure what this is exactly…”

“You’re not sure what we are?” Lando asked, his grip on her waist tightening.

“I mean… We never talked about what—”

“We did,” Lando cut her off. “I said I like you, you said you like me, we said we don’t want this to be a one-time thing. You’re my girlfriend now.”

Y/N blinked, momentarily stunned. Her lips parted slightly as she processed his words, and Lando smiled, clearly entertained by her reaction.

“You always overcomplicate everything. It’s not that difficult, Y/N.” 

Lando’s fingers combed through her hair before settling on her jaw, pulling her face a little nearer to his. He leant in closer, his lips hovering just above hers.

“Now that’s settled, can I kiss you in public?”

Y/N laughed softly before nodding, pulling him into another kiss – slow, soft, adoring. Her hands trailed up his shoulders, to the hair at the edge of his neck where she pulled him closer, just for a little while.

“So where did we land on the brother problem?”

“You can decide. He’s your brother. If you want him to know, we’ll tell him. If not, I don’t mind keeping this just between us for a bit,” Lando stated, his hand sliding down her back reassuringly.

“I’m not sure,” she said, fiddling with the hair at the back of Lando’s head. “P told me that he’s alright with it, that apparently he told you it’s okay.” Lando nods in response, confirming that Pietra was correct. “What do you think?”

“He’ll figure it out eventually. We might as well tell him now so we won’t have to hide it.”

Y/N hummed in thought, considering the options. “You’re right, so we tell him?”

“Perfect. Let’s tell him after lunch. That gives us a few hours to mentally prepare, and, you know, enjoy this.”

He leant in for another kiss, and Y/N laughed softly, letting herself melt into it before she pushed him away, into the water. Lando looked at her in shock and offence when he resurfaced. 

“Oh no, you don’t,” he said, shaking water from his hair before lunging for her. Y/N squealed, attempting to escape, but Lando grabbed her leg, pulling it out from under her. She fell into the water with a laugh, splashing him in retaliation.

– – – – –

Back on the beach, Max was sprawled out under the sun, seemingly attempting to get a tan while Pietra was reading her magazine. When two shadows fell over her, she glanced up, her lips twitching into a knowing smirk when she noticed the poorly hidden intertwined pinkies.

“Have fun?” she asked, her voice light and teasing.

Y/N cleared her throat, quickly dropping her hand from Lando’s. “It was fine,” she replied, her tone casual but her cheeks betraying her with a slight flush.

They rested in the sun for a while, to dry up, before they grabbed lunch at one of the nearby stands. Y/N slid onto the bench of one of the picnic tables, her box of food in hand.  

Lunch was casual, though Y/N couldn’t ignore the tension building inside her. She picked at her food, stealing occasional glances at Max, who seemed blissfully unaware of anything out of the ordinary.

To be fair, the situation almost seemd normal, if it wasn't for Lando. Throughout the meal, he constantly leant in close to whisper something in her ear, or he rested his hand on her thigh, his thumb drawing slow circles that made it hard to concentrate. He stole fries off her plate with zero shame, grinning mischievously when she swatted his hand away and teased her when she spilt ketchup on her cover-up. Not to mention, he would lean into her personal space whenever he felt like it. 

Lando's confidence only heightened her nerves; he was so obvious in his affection, so unbothered by the risk of Max noticing it. It was honestly a wonder Max hadn't commented on it yet, but he would if Lando didn't stop soon.

When they finished eating, Lando straightened up in his seat and clapped his hands together, the sound loud enough to catch everyone's attention. Y/N closed her eyes and rubbed her face at his approach, already knowing this would not end well.

"So, Max," Lando started, his voice confident.

Max frowned, confused at the sudden seriousness. “What?”

“There’s something we want to tell you," he continued, glancing at Y/N.

Y/N told herself not to worry – Max had already given his blessing, right? It didn't stop her body from tensing up, though. Lando noticed straight away, slightly squeezing her thigh in attempt to reassure her, but it had the opposite effect. Why was he touching her like that when her brother was sitting right there, focused on them?

Max raised an eyebrow, looking between the two of them as he narrowed his eyes. “Okay...?”

Y/N swallowed hard. “Lando and I, uh, we’re sort of...”

“Dating,” Lando finished for her, his voice confident and steady.

Max blinked, processing their words, before leaning back in his seat. His brows lifted in genuine surprise as he looked at Lando. “You convinced her?”

Lando chuckled before leaning back in his seat with a triumphant smile. “Took some work, but yeah, I did.”

Y/N shot Lando a glare, her face heating. “Took some work? You make it sound like I was impossible or something.”

“You kind of were,” Lando teased, his grin widening. “Stubborn as hell. But that’s part of your charm.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You’re incorrigible, honestly,” she trailed off before turning to her brother. “But… You’re okay with it? Not that we need your approval or something, I’d just like you to be okay with it,” Y/N asked her brother nervously.

“Yeah, I told Lando earlier this week. I think he’s good for you, just thought it would’ve taken him longer to convince you of that.” Max shrugged nonchalantly, taking another sip of his drink.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at the hidden jab but let it slide, instead focusing on the approval part, and the relief she felt because of it. She let out a breath. “Okay. That’s good.” 

Her hand found Lando’s under the table, their fingers intertwining as she turned toward him, her lips curling into a small smile. “That’s good,” she repeated. 

She felt herself relax at her brother’s blessing, as if it was all the confirmation she needed to believe she made the right choice. She glanced up at Lando as he joked around with her brother, watching his eyes crinkle as he grinned, and she realised it felt right – she and Lando felt right.

– – – – –

@dripostsstuff @willowsnook @f1fantasys @sarx164 @watermelonslut @diorsummer @zzfhcp @spidey.lovin @harrysdimple05 @pattydel @mayusaatma @leonie404 @mywritersmind @weekendlusting @01rrdbull @alex-wotton @liv1209 @forensicheart @carey86 @avagracekeating @sltwins @graceln4 @chachaxbear @lucktales @benstormy @cheyennep3107 @suicidepanda07 @hellowgoodbye @itsartesworld @fleurskles @monstermash234 @haileysaintmleux @ainocilla @bicchaan @lnlightning81 @f1updates4you @rana-dprian @slytherinbithc @fangirl125reader @saturnbloom77 @itssueed @rebecca-9 @radiator101 @f1norris04 @teamnovalak @noescapricho-essentimiento @itsjustfranzi @obxstiles @liv1209 @sagestack

[jubburb]

✮⋆˙Toge Inumaki

Safe words Toge uses (All not used)

NOT PROOFREAD, JUST ONE SEXUAL JOKE, EVERYTHING IS ALL FLUFF. I think.

----Salmon (shake), fish flakes (okaka), kelp (konbu), mustard leaf (takana), Salmon roe (Sujiko), caviar (ikura), spicy cod roe (Mentaiko), tuna (tsuna), tuna mayo (tsuna mayo)

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

It would've been better if someone as lively as you weren't in Toge's life. It's been so hard on him ever since you went on that 3 week mission, leaving him all alone, with no one to talk to.

Of course that's an exaggeration. Yuuta and Panda were there talking to him, but it's not the same when the love of his life talks to him.

It's quite the predicament, really. He thinks that you don't know about his crush on you, but you know that he has a crush on you and he doesn't know that you know. (Good lord-) Toge didn't really hide it well, making it obvious with how much more eye contact he made with you. Who wouldn't pick up on the hints?

As the reasonable person you are, you decided to wait. If he doesn't say anything, you won't say anything about it either. Yuji says otherwise, he wants you to blast Toge's love life on speaker. He's just a little excited, that's all.

Though it also helps you, since you're not too sure how you can reciprocate the feeling back, when you haven't done that much romance in your life yet. It's an odd feeling, you being the target of someone's love, and not it being the other way around. It's hard to think about it when you yourself haven't experienced romantic love. (But it's not hard to know when someone likes you, given they act all weird around the said person)

---

"Ikura." He grumbled, expressing his sadness, kicking a pebble while walking.

It's been 2 and a half weeks, your mission coming to an end in a few days. Toge doesn't know what to do for the rest of those few days, he doesn't even know how he survived the past 2 weeks.

He walked back to his respective room, mind blank as he threw himself onto his bed. Toge didn't have that many missions this morning, but he did feel a little drowsy.

He tried to fight off the sleepiness, he doesn't know why, but he did so.

Toge- slept. He failed the battle against his eyes, sleep weighing down on his eyelids. Although, Toge found it weird when it felt like the best nap he had gotten when he woke up. His hair was oddly well brushed too.

At first, his vision was a little blurry, but as he rubbed it, he saw a silhouette of a face, looking at him.

He jolted up, lowering his scarf as he was ready to use his curse technique, but then he saw your face. Toge lit up to the sight of you, immediately hugging you.

"Toge! Surprised to see me? I got back a little early from the mission!"

Toge nodded and rubbed your back, “Konbu” he whispered, feeling your shoulder blades. He's an odd guy, really. He might've done that to try and tickle you.

"Hello to you too. I know you definitely missed me. I actually thought my mission would end a week early but the curse kept on duplicating and it was..tiring. Anyway, you doing good?”

“Shake,” he nodded from your shoulder. Toge hugged you more tightly, but what can you do? You were away for so long, it's understandable for him to get touchy feely.

"I got us some snacks from my mission, you wanna eat it?" You patted his back, trying to pull away from him. Toge kept his hands wrapped around you, only to release the hug and type out something.

“U owe me. You left me here for too long :(“

You patted his shoulder, smiling at his response, “Of course, what do you want?”

Toge pondered for a second, before immediately typing on his phone.

“Gibe me s kuss”

“Huh?” You squinted, looking at his phone.

Toge pulled his phone back and corrected his mistakes.

“Give me a kiss”

You stopped, looking him in the eyes. He’s become bolder, hasn’t he? First it was hugs, then cuddles, now kisses. At this point, who wouldn’t think that you guys aren’t dating?

"Who's the submissive one now?" You snickered, shaking him from his shoulder. Toge rolled his eyes, typing again as he grunts from your shakes.

"You can dominate me..in bed ;)"

He smiled, you can see it even if his scarf was up.

"Please, I do not want to see you type that out again. You're so cringe Toge."

The both of you were silent, then a sudden burst of laughter cut the silence. It was fun. The comfort both of you got from each other was evident. You shook Toge as the giggles and snorts continued, but Toge was somewhat serious about the previous text before that.

He loved the way you laugh. It was a wonderful sound to him. He always appreciates that he could get a good laugh out of you.

When it started getting silent, he grabbed your hand, still smiling widely.

"Tuna tuna."

"Yeah?" You asked also smiling, reciprocating the gesture. Toge hesitantly intertwined his fingers with yours, lifting up his scarf and looking away.

You giggled a little, getting closer to his face. You noticed his ears turning into a soft pink. "He's so adorable."

Toge dragged his eyes to look at you, trying to maintain eye contact. He made a little finger heart to you, still being a little shy.

"I love you too Toge," you bumped foreheads with him gently, leaning in to his cheek to give a kiss.

Toge felt it. It was warm. He wished it was planted on his lips instead, but he could only hope for more.

"Shake," he purses, but you couldn't see it, his scarf was in the way. He hadn't noticed that you told him a genuine I love you yet, so you repeated it.

"Toge, I love you. Would you do me an honor of being my boyfriend?"

His eyes widened, face snapped to look at you more clearly. Toge hugged you again, this time pushing you into the bed and wrapping his legs around you. He didn't stop hugging you, still surprised from the sudden confession. But he should've expected it.

You laid there for a while, Toge hugging you from beside. Who would've known? He then pulled out his phone in the hug, typing them deleting, as if he were unsure of what to say. He finally managed to make a sentence.

"Can you do the thing again where you focused your cursed energy in your ears to deflect commands from me? Just this once please?"

He showed you the typed out sentence, you wondered why he had to hesitate a little.

"Sure, give me a moment.."

As cursed energy flowed to your ear, you were ready.

Toge took a deep breath, looking at you in the eyes once again and saying,

"I love you"

Your breath hitched, you never expected it to be this emotional. Toge is never this serious before. And he just showed how much he liked you.

You were about to cry, but you pulled into his hug. Finding more comfort and warmth in his arms.

"I always loved your hugs Toge. I hope we can continue hugging for as long as we are able to."

Toge Inumaki nodded, shifting his position to get a better cuddle from you as he big spooned you.

____

Wasn't it nice to know your crush had also liked you too?

____

A convo with the other creator of this account

"You can dominate me in bed💀" 💀💀💀 - signed by c

Its so sigma skibidi toilet rizz🤧 EAWWW not doing that again👹

-Jღ

[bull-at-the-gate]

Sehkmet the Just. Devoted Paladin of The Lord of the North Wind; The Wyrmking; King of Good Dragons; The Platinum Dragon Bahamut

More silly Tavs. haha can we tell that I started out drawing animals and have for way longer than I’ve drawn people?

Sehkmet’s an Oath of Vengeance Paladin and always keeps her word, or will die in the attempt.

I imagine she’s been resurrected once before after falling in battle against the cult of Tiamat.

She devoted her life to serving as an instrument for Bahamut’s vengeance after losing her clan to followers of Tiamat as a wee cub.

So she’s very devout, but also gets to be a whole himbo, as a treat. She and Hollow (my durge) would ask together with full earnestness ‘what animal is the pink panther’ and Sehkmet would probably forget after a week.

Some Headcanon-y Things

Heals by giving lil’ forehead kisses and will absolutely not tolerate anyone hiding injuries, she’s lost too many a good ally to let that slide.

Helps with cooking by prepping the food so Gale has a little less work to do; Can freeze food for later too

White Dragonborn are more adapt for the cold, so Sehkmet’s got a thick downy fur, ideal for cuddling; everyone has slept with at least once for the best platonic cuddles (maybe minus Lae’zel until much later)

Has no idea what a shirt is, not really, but she prefers to go without when resting. Only somewhat understands modesty, everything for Dragonborn is extremely internal so she understands in concept, but not necessarily for herself

Does laundry for everyone, finds the repetitiveness to be meditative and is particular about strong smells, so doing it is a win-win. Patches up any holes she finds too.

Fascinated by hair, loves to style it and learned how to when a few war clerics taught her to. Lae’zel, Shadowheart, and Gale all thought she was giving them *the look* but she just wanted to play with and style their hair.

I need to practice muscular bodies a bit, but she’s built like a seven-foot tall truck and hits like a train.

Can only see out of one eye, lost total use of her right one while training to join her order but the vision had been failing most of her life.

She was a secret fan of *The Blade of Frontiers* before meeting Wyll because she’d heard he also only had one functioning eye and was still able to be a champion of the people.

did not, however, realize she was older than him. She’s still a fan.

Spends at least one evenings each tenday polishing and caring for the party’s armor, after proving to Lae’zel she did an acceptable enough job to be entrusted hers as well.

Scarily fast, especially out of her armor. She was too slow, once, to save a cleric who’d trusted her to be their shield. She’d vowed to never be too slow again, and she always keeps her word.

Offers mercy and a second chance unless it’s been proven to her that a beaten enemy won’t do better; She follows Bahamut’s own words on the matter, no justice without mercy and no penance without forgiveness

Would probably be a theater kid

Spars with Lae’zel and Karlach on the regular in camp. I like the idea that Dragonborn can replace teeth but it’s not common knowledge yet, so it’s funny to picture:

Karlach knocking out a couple teeth and being extremely apologetic and starts looking for the teeth

Sehkmet’s just confused because she’s assumed her whole life everyone’s teeth regrow and is confused why Karlach’s dragging Shadowheart over with her old teeth asking if she can put them back.

Lae’zel is amused (Gith definitely would also be able to regrow teeth, selectively bred warrior race and all) and uses the moment for one of her lovely little Githyanki supremacy tangents.

Sehkmet is just standing there, staring at the horizon in concern, like ‘You all don’t regrow teeth?!’ and thinking about how many belated apologies she needs to make

Karlach is still holding bloody teeth

Lae’zel and Shadowheart are fighting (flirting) again

Astarion is over by the cookout bugging Gale and watching the show

Gale and Wyll are still thinking at least they’re normal

the Emperor is still imploring you to eat a tadpole.

[adifferentsortofstrength]

Close to Her Chest

This is the first writing I have ever put out into the world, so please be kind ♥︎

∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴

Elain x Azriel

Our story begins shortly after The Incident on Solstice. I'll do my best to be canon compliant/adjacent but it's been a while since I reread the whole series. I'm not sure how far I'll take this piece, but the only way to begin is to begin.

I'll add any pertinent tags below.

⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱

Even in the dark of winter, Elain found it easier to breathe beneath the sky. The chill of the air had a lessened effect in this new Fae body of hers, leaving her numb but not immediately frozen to her core as it would have before.

More often than not, she found herself slipping silently out into the gardens once the family had taken their leave from the dinner table. She couldn’t stand the flickering firelight of the townhouse sitting room for more than a moment. Having to listen to her family, her friends, happily chattering away while she herself was all but decaying inside… it was enough to drive her mad.

Only a week ago, in the dark of the longest night of the year, the crackling fire in the hearth had been a comfort. A muted backdrop to what Elain had thought would be a pivotal moment in her life, the moment that she chose to take control of her fate.

But now the angry popping of the logs was just a taunting reminder of the silence that fell after.

This was a mistake.

For months, there had been a static building between her and Azriel. It was palpable in the air, clung to her skin after the briefest brush of their hands, was alight in the gazes they exchanged across a crowded room. And yet somehow, it seemed only she alone had sensed it.

That much was clear now.

This was a mistake.

In the aftermath, the pendant lying on her breast burned as though it was discharging all of that pent up static into her. When her trembling fingers unclasped it, placed it gingerly upon the lingering pile of Solstice gifts, Elain felt the static leave her. And ever since, there was nothing but numbness in its place.

This was a mistake.

Wandering amongst the burlap covered plants, her fingers trailing carelessly through the dusting of snow, the numbness of her heart now echoed in that of her skin.

Distantly, she could still hear her family talking and laughing together. Azriel had been noticeably absent from all gatherings this past week, and her stomach dropped at the thought that she was keeping him from enjoying time with the people he loved.

As if the embarrassment and shame around her behavior on Solstice wasn’t torturous enough, the sudden onslaught of guilt at the thought of depriving him of his family sent her knees out from under her.

A sob escaped her lips before she could bring an ice-cold hand up to muffle the sound. Elain had never wished for the ability to winnow more than she did in this moment.

If only she could disappear into the night, stepping out somewhere far from this cold garden path, maybe then she could grant her family a bit of reprieve from the burden of her presence.

A frozen gust of wind whipped around her, and all at once the now familiar sensation of her Sight sparked through her veins. As she felt herself slipping further from her body, Elain’s last coherent thought was a morbid hope that maybe no one would find her out here.

Maybe she could simply drift away, out here in this cold and desolate garden, surrounded by the corpses of the plants she had nurtured and cared for all year. It felt poetic somehow, because unlike her plants which would return vibrant and alive come spring, the feelings she had nurtured quietly within herself for the last year had little chance of surviving the final weeks of winter.

⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱

A week had passed since Solstice, and Azriel had barely slept at all. Immediately after receiving the order from Rhys to stay away from Elain, he had been sent to Illyria to gather intel on the rising unrest amongst some of the more isolated clans.

Having done all he could there, he flew now towards the townhouse. The sun had set already and he knew that his family would be finished with their meal, gathering in the sitting room for the evening.

As he circled lower over Velaris, his shadows began to rise around him, suddenly twisting and pulling against his skin, as if urging him to hurry. They led him not to the front door of the house, but instead deep into the frozen gardens. They whispered She is there! She is there!

Understanding immediately who they meant, he landed rapidly amongst the rows of covered bushes and trellises.

It took mere moments to locate her, and what he saw sent the chill of the night straight to his heart.

Elain, beautiful, lovely Elain, was lying along the edge of the garden path. She had no coat or cloak, no gloves or even a scarf to keep her warm. The snow had formed a halo around her, and as he approached he could see that she was lost in a vision, the whites of her eyes barely visible under her dark lashes.

She had clearly collapsed here, her legs curled beneath her, her hands resting haphazardly in the snow by her shoulders. He couldn’t tell how long she had been like this, but it was long enough that her lips were blue and a slight frost had gathered across her skin.

Azriel summoned a thick wool blanket with his shadows, and hurriedly wrapped it around her as he gathered Elain into his arms. Placing a scarred hand against her face, he leaned in, cocooning his wings around them, desperately willing the heat of his body to warm hers.

“Elain,” he whispered, not wanting to startle her, “Elain, please come back to me. Please open your eyes.”

Her pulse was sluggish, and though he could see her faint breath misting from her parted lips, she did not stir.

In a moment of rash indifference, not caring for what consequences may befall him, Azriel felt himself slipping into shadow, and stepping out in the middle of the sitting room.

“Azriel?”, Feyre was the first to acknowledge him, the others turning in surprise at his sudden appearance.

“Azriel, what-“, Rhys started, before his eye caught on the small figure clutched in his arms.

“I found her in the garden, nearly frozen. None of you noted her absence? No one thought to check on her?”, he was nearly growling now, and still Elain did not move beyond the shallow rise and fall of her chest.

“How long has it been since any one of you has seen her? How long had she been out there alone?”, he continued, simmering rage barely contained in his words.

He stalked over to the fire, his shadows piling on more logs and stoking the flames higher, and knelt before it. In truth, this was the closest he had been to open flame since his hands had been disfigured. While he had slowly grown accustom to sitting in those chairs closest to the hearth, kneeling here within arms reach was another trial all together.

But in this moment, he did not fall back, refusing to release his hold on the slowly thawing form in his arms.

“Everyone, out, now”, he vaguely heard Rhys command, drowned out by the boiling blood rushing in his ears.

“Azriel-”, it was Feyre, gently approaching and settling onto her knees beside them.

He couldn’t form a coherent thought, couldn’t speak aloud the words that threatened to spill from his mouth, lest he reveal the utter distaste and rage at their complete disregard for this most precious being in his arms.

Before Rhys could speak again, before he inevitably tried to take her from him again, Azriel once more placed his hand against her cheek. It had warmed slightly, a soft pink pallor now spreading across her skin.

Elain.

Elain.

Elain.

At this point, he wasn’t sure if he was merely thinking the word or speaking it aloud, reverently, like a prayer to whatever gods might be listening. He no longer saw anything but her face, felt nothing but the steady beating of her heart, and no one, not even Rhysand, could tear him from her in this moment.

Elain suddenly sighed, her eyes fluttering fully closed, as she shifted her body closer, curling against him. As her hand slowly found its way up his chest to the bare skin of his neck, he released a breath and clutched her tighter.

Her fingers were still icily cold, but they were brushing gently through the hair at the base of his scalp. Relishing this close contact, he would have been content to remain here with her in this moment forever. But the fact was that they were not alone, and even as he kept his eyes on her, he could feel Rhysand and Feyre’s on him.

“Elain”, he breathed, barely more than a whisper, tears of relief threatening to spill free from his eyes.

At that, Elain’s eyes opened again, still slightly hazed from her vision but once again warm and so richly brown they were nearly molten.

“Azriel?” It came out as a whisper, her hand stilling against his neck, as her brow furrowed in confusion.

Azriel, let her go now. Let Feyre check on her. Rhys spoke directly into his mind now, the words a clear command.

He spoke back, You can’t order me to do that, the words an echo of those he had uttered only a week prior, when Elain decides she is ready to get up, she will, and lowered his mental shield into place. If Rhysand had something more to say, he could say it out loud, in front of his mate.

“I found you, in the garden”, He dared to brush his thumb across her cheek, “You must have had a vision and collapsed. You had no coat, and were half frozen by the time I got you inside.”

At that her eyes cleared a but more, as if remembering what she had seen. Her fingers resumed drifting through his hair, and she whispered, “Oh…”

“Elain? Are you alright? We’re so sorry, we didn’t realize you had gone outside. I thought you had gone up to bed and-“, at Feyre’s voice, Elain started and pulled away from him, knowing now that they were not alone here.

She couldn’t quite get herself upright, so Azriel reluctantly rose and set her into the nearest armchair, taking just one more moment to tuck the blanket around her shoulders, before retreating. Her eyes tracked him across the room, and he suddenly couldn’t remember a time he had felt so empty, the absence of her leaving him feeling hollow and cold.

Rhysand once again tapped against his mental wall, and he acquiesced this time, bracing for what was sure to be more reprimand and orders.

We will speak about this later. Rhys’s voice sounded flat in his mind.

Fine. He replied, before slamming the shields back into place, shoving out his High Lord more aggressively than ever before.

Elain looked to Feyre then, a numb mask slipping over her face as she asked, “Can you take me to my room please?”

Feyre nodded only once before casting a look over her shoulder towards him and then her mate. Uncertainty shone in her eyes, but she grasped Elain’s outstretched hand and winnowed them away.

Before Rhys could start in on him, Azriel too took his leave, disappearing into his shadows, no sure destination in mind.

∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴

Authors note: I always felt that the both of them would be utterly miserable and despondent after Solstice. Poor Elain, suffering yet another rejection, not understanding where she had gone wrong. The feelings of loss and confusion consuming her, similar but somehow worse even than after Greyson. And Azriel, questioning where his true loyalties lie, rebelling against that sense of owing Rhysand for taking him under his proverbial wing as a child, torn between doing what he was conditioned to do and what his heart is begging him to.

I have many thoughts as to how their story could play out. This fic is acting as a sort of writing exercise as I work up to starting my original story that I’ve been mulling over in my head for nearly a decade. If I can keep it together enough to continue, this fic will probably find its way over to AO3 eventually.

Expect to find angst, secret meetings, chance run ins, pining, hidden trysts, and overdue confrontation amongst other things in subsequent installments.

[kei-crocker]

I’m not sure if Dan sleeps like other humans or not yet.

My Headcanon:

Dan is still a full ghost—some kind of full ghost coated in a human husk or something like that. At least, he was, in TUE.

I love both fanon ideas:

1. He needs human things like others because he has a body now.

2. He doesn’t need such things since he’s not like others—he’s still a full ghost.

Both are so interesting to think about, so I can’t choose between them. I’m such an indecisive person lol

But still... I love imagining Vlad and Dani thinking Dan’s bad temper comes from sleeplessness (which is totally wrong). So they’d try to get him to sleep by lying down on either side of him and gently patting him until he finally dozes off.

Maybe Dani would even want to read him an old fairy tale for good measure.

Of course, Dan wouldn’t fall asleep. Instead, he’d crawl out of bed while his two “new family members” slept like logs.

---

#Case 2: Dan Needs Sleep and Food to Maintain Himself (Headcanon)

I used to think Dan wouldn’t need food or sleep to sustain himself, but if he does need them to keep his clone body functioning, that would be hilarious.

Having lived as a full ghost for over ten years, he never ate or slept. He’s almost forgotten that humans need such things.

(Though I doubt he completely forgot, considering he could still act like normal Danny in TUE.)

Dan didn’t sleep for more than three days straight. Even though he knew people needed rest, he just ignored it. In the end, he collapsed in the hallway, scaring Vlad half to death ever since. :3

[candycandy00]

Once Upon a Time - A Choso x Reader Fanfic Part 2

Retold fairytales featuring the JJK men! This is Rapunzel featuring Choso! While gathering herbs in the forest, you stumble into the garden of a strange man living in an abandoned watch tower. He talks often about his three little brothers, but you’re beginning to suspect they’re no longer there. 

Part 1 | Part 2

Read Sukuna x Sleeping Beauty Here!

Read Gojo x Cinderella Here!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Reader as Rapunzel. Reader has long hair (she kinda has to for this story) but no other distinguishing physical characteristics. Choso as a classic Yandere. Possessive behavior. Toxic love. Manipulation. Reader is locked up. Mentions of characters dying before the story began. Bondage (not used in a sexual context… yet).

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more and @benkeibear!

You slam the shutters closed and back away from the window. Already you’ve begun trembling from the cold, and despite the shackle on your ankle, you’re irrationally afraid of falling out the window. 

The chain on the shackle clinks as you move, and you follow it back to see what it’s connected to. Under the straw mattress, you find a great metal hook where the end of the chain is fastened. You pull at it, but there’s no way to get it free. It seems to be built into the hook somehow. 

Changing tactics, you sit down and examine the shackle itself. There’s a small keyhole on the side, and no other way to open it. You pull and jerk, but it doesn’t budge. 

Why would Choso do this? You thought things were going so well. You even fell in love with him. Did he have something like this in mind the whole time? And what does he even plan to do with you?

You run through possibilities in your mind, but nothing makes sense. If he wanted to keep you here for sex, why bother when you slept with him willingly? You make him all the medicines he wants. You spend time with him and even invited him to come visit you. What else could he possibly want from you? 

Just then you notice that your hair has been tied back up into a ponytail. It’s a bit messier than when you do it, but it’s clear that Choso has made an effort. Why would he do something so considerate while doing something as terrible as chaining you up? 

Footsteps echo through the room, and you look toward the door. Someone is coming up the stairs, and unless you’re completely wrong about his brothers being dead, it’s definitely Choso. 

You feel a surge of panic. Whatever he wants from you, it can’t be good if he’s taken you captive. You’re not sure if your heart can handle being hurt by someone you’ve come to love, someone you were so intimate with just before you were knocked out. 

The door opens, and Choso is on the other side, holding a plate of food. His eyes widen when he sees you standing there in the middle of the room.

“Oh, you’re awake,” he says, relief in his voice. He steps inside and sits the plate on the dresser. “I brought dinner just in case, but I was worried you’d still be asleep. That sleep medicine you made is more potent than I thought. Or maybe I used too much. It’s been two days.”

Two days?! You’d guessed around twelve hours! But this is no time to be shocked into silence. 

“Why have you taken me prisoner?” you ask, trying to keep your tone even and calm. Losing your cool will be no help at all. 

He blinks. “Prisoner? No, that’s not what I’m doing. I’m keeping you safe. After the threat is gone, I’ll take you home.”

“The threat? You mean the wolves?” How could he possibly rid the forest of wolves single handedly? Or is this just a way for him to keep you here indefinitely? 

“Yes, the wolves,” he replies, seemingly oblivious to how ridiculous that sounds. “Well, that particular pack of wolves. I’ll hunt them down and kill them all, so they won’t ever hurt you again.”

You step closer to him. “Choso, you don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine! The wolves are less active during the day, so just escort me home now while the sun is still up, and-“

“No!” he shouts, making you flinch and step back. His face then softens immediately, as if your reaction pained him. “I’m sorry for yelling, but I can’t let you leave until I know you’ll be safe. I promise I’ll take care of you, so don’t worry!”

“Choso-“

“I’ll cook meals for you every day,” he continues, cutting you off. “You like my cooking, right? I went to the village yesterday and bought you a couple of dresses to wear, and some books to read so you won’t be bored!”

“Please, Choso, listen to me,” you say, approaching him again. “I know you mean well, and you’re trying to look out for me, but this isn’t the way to do it. I need to go home. You can’t keep me here against my will.”

This time he takes a step back. “I’ll take you home as soon as I kill the wolves. It won’t take too long, but I can’t let you go before then. Those wolves are bloodthirsty, and they’re not afraid to attack humans.”

You stare at him for a moment, wondering if you should say the words bubbling up in your mouth. Since he’s taken things this far, you decide to stop dancing around the topic and ask, “Is that what happened to your brothers?”

His face goes blank, his eyes looking eerily empty as he says, “What are you talking about? My brothers are downstairs playing.”

For that brief moment, Choso frightens you to your core. For that one solitary moment, you believe he’s capable of anything. 

You feel your eyes becoming wet. “Choso, I’m more afraid of you than the wolves right now.”

He looks hurt, reeling back as if he’s been slapped. “Me? But I’d never hurt you! I’m doing all this to protect you!”

“But I don’t want this kind of protection,” you say as calmly as possible. “Don’t you care what I want?”

He wears a conflicted expression, which is a good sign. Maybe you can reach him. He backs up toward the door. “Of course I care, but I care more about keeping you safe,” he says as he opens the door and steps out. “Please eat. I’ll come check on you a little later.” Then the door closes. 

You stand there for a while, listening to his footsteps carrying him down the stairs. Once he sounds far enough away, you go over to the dresser and pick up the plate. Your gut reaction is to smash it on the floor, but starving yourself will get you nowhere. It might even end with Choso forcing food down your throat. 

No, the best idea is to appeal to Choso’s care for you. He’s clearly been driven mad by grief over his brothers, and it’s impossible to tell what he’d do when pushed into a corner. 

But the worst part is that, despite what he’s doing, you still feel love for Choso. He seems to sincerely believe he’s protecting you. 

For now, you decide to bide your time and try talking some sense into him. 

Later that evening, Choso returns to the top of the tower. When he opens the door and steps into the room, you gasp at the sight of him. 

His clothes are torn, there are bloody scratches all over him, and he’s carrying a heavy-looking wool sack. 

You quickly get to your feet and hurry over, but the chain prevents you from reaching him. He’s just inside the door, barely out of your reach. You extend one hand toward him. “Choso, what happened?!” No matter what he’s done, you still can’t bear to see him hurt. 

Choso looks at her with an anguished expression when he realizes she’s trying to come to him but can’t, because of the shackle he placed on her ankle. He takes the ten steps needed to be close enough for her to touch him, sighing in relief when her soft hands touch his shoulders. 

“I’m alright,” he tells her, shifting the bag to one arm. “More importantly, I brought you a gift.”

She looks skeptical. Of course she does. He’s well aware that she’s unhappy with this situation. He doesn’t like making her unhappy, but he knows she’ll understand after she’s here for a while with him. Eventually she’ll come to like being kept safe and pampered here. 

He opens the bag and dumps out the contents on the floor in front of her. Two gifts that will surely prove his devotion to her. Two bloody, mangled wolf carcasses. 

She doesn’t scream, but instead makes a strange little cry of alarm, barely above a whisper, as she steps back, one hand closed over her mouth. 

“Don’t you recognize them?” he asks, squatting down to hold one of them up. “These are two of the wolves that attacked you. There’s only four more.”

She looks horrified as her lovely eyes take in the dead wolves, then shift to his face. “You killed them yourself?”

Choso smiles, feeling proud. “Yes, with a hatchet! It was fairly easy to take a couple down once I drove the pack to separate, then I-“

He notices she’s crying, and it makes the words dry up in his mouth. She looks aghast. 

“Please don’t do something like this again!” she cries. “Think about what would happen if you’re killed by the wolves! I’d be trapped here alone, with no food or water!”

Choso’s heart nearly stops when he hears her words. How could he have been so careless? He put her at risk! “I’m sorry!” he says, dropping to his knees beside the wolves. “I didn’t consider that! I’ll bring extra food and water tomorrow, and I’ll be very careful when I kill the rest of the pack!”

She kneels down in front of him. “Don’t kill the rest of them! Please just stop all this. Wolf attacks are rare. I’m sure it won’t happen again. I’ll forgive you if you let me go home when the sun comes up.”

Her words are logical. They make perfect sense to Choso, but he knows logic isn’t always right. He can’t risk her being attacked again. Standing up, he looks down at her. “After I kill the remaining four, I’ll take you home. I promise. And don’t worry, I’ve killed a bigger pack than this one before. I know what I’m doing.”

She lowers her head in defeat, not even looking up when he places the dead wolves in the bag and leaves the room. 

Back downstairs, he strips off the bloody clothes and cleans up in the small washroom beside the kitchen. There’s a similar washroom upstairs for her to use. He cleaned her body the day before, while she was still sleeping, but he was careful to protect her modesty as best he could and not touch her inappropriately. 

After washing his hair and drying off, Choso pulls on loose fitting black pants and sits near the fireplace to warm up. He can’t help remembering how he made love to her in this very spot only two days earlier. When he’d been fully sheathed inside her, wrapped in her arms, he felt at peace for the first time in years. 

It was almost enough to make him forget. 

After a few minutes, he decides to go up and check on her. He misses the time they spent talking happily together, sharing stories about their lives. He hopes they can go back to that someday. These are his thoughts as he climbs the steps of the tower. 

You’re surprised when you hear footsteps on the stairs again. You didn’t expect Choso to come back again so late, but when he opens the door, he’s standing there in only black pants, no shirt, his hair loose around his shoulders and slightly damp. 

It reminds you that you find him very attractive, and you wish you could just turn that part of your brain off. 

“Ah, sorry if I’m bothering you,” he says, looking a little sheepish. “I think it’s time to change your bandages. Is it alright if I help you?”

You already found a drawer full of supplies in the dresser, but you haven’t changed them yet. To be honest, that’s been the last thing on your mind today. 

You’re not quite sure whether you should accept his help, or anything else. You haven’t even looked at the dresses he bought for you, spending the day in your slip. There’s a coal heater in the room, with a vent built into the wall to prevent smoke buildup, so you haven’t been cold unless you open the window. 

He stands there looking like a lost puppy, and you can’t help yourself. “Alright, you can help me,” you say, sitting on the mattress. 

Looking pleased, he hurries over to the drawer and gathers supplies, then sits down beside you. His hands are nearly shaking as he carefully removes the bandages from your hand and arm. As always, his touches are light and gentle, his fingertips soft on your skin. He continues this process with your other wounds, and it feels so nice and relaxing that your guard drops completely. 

When he’s finished, he starts to stand up, but you place one hand on his arm. “What about you?” you ask him, looking at the numerous shallow cuts and scratches on his firm torso. “Let me help you.”

His eyes widen slightly, a faint dusting of pink on his pale face as he settles back onto the floor and nods. With the same care he demonstrated, you clean and wrap his wounds with bandages, your hands lingering on his abdomen. You wonder if he’s aroused right now, considering the way his breaths are coming quicker and his eyes seem to be darker. 

Do you want him to be aroused? 

You’re not certain what you want. And while you’re still in this vague mindset, Choso softly asks, “May I touch you?”

Slightly dazed by his closeness, you say yes, assuming he plans to embrace you when he moves to be behind you. 

Instead, his warm hand slides under the fabric of your slip, between your legs. You gasp when his fingers gently prod your folds open and find your clit, stroking it until you become wet. 

“You liked it when I touched you here, right?” he says into your ear, and your whole body shivers. 

You shouldn’t let this happen. You should tell him to stop. Being intimate with him again will only make him feel like his behavior is okay. But you’ve been so stressed today, so wound up and worried. And Choso looks so beautiful with his hair down, his fingers feel so good, causing currents of electric pleasure to ripple through you. 

You should stop this, but instead you lean back against him, opening your thighs. You turn your head to look at him over your shoulder, one of your hands moving to his hair and pulling his face close enough to kiss him. You moan into his mouth as he continues rubbing your clit, your body beginning to quiver. 

Breaking the kiss, you look him in the eyes. “Choso… take me,” you plead, peeling off the slip and leaving yourself nude. 

You don’t have to ask twice. With an urgency bordering on desperation, he pushes you forward, onto your hands and knees on the floor. Within seconds, he’s shoving into you, a short whimpering cry escaping his lips as your warm, slick walls close around him. 

He’s less careful this time, less gentle as he thrusts into you from behind, as if he can’t hold himself back any longer. 

One of his hands slides around to continue stroking your clit, making you sob out a moan. His other hand reaches around your face, where his fingers dip into your open mouth. His thrusts get harder, faster, and the chain connected to your ankle clinks as it rattles. 

Oh god, you’re falling into madness with him. 

When you cum with a great shudder, you inadvertently bite down on his fingers, tasting his blood. He doesn’t even try to withdraw them. 

When he cums, fully inside you, he leans over your shaking form and says into your ear, “I love you so much. I’ll keep you safe… forever!”

The words, sounding sweet at first, snap you back to your senses when you realize what he’s actually saying. 

He intends to keep you captive here for the rest of your life. He’ll never let you go. 

The thought is sobering, and you instantly lose the sense of pleasure you’d just felt. In a moment of weakness, you’ve made a terrible mistake. 

When Choso pulls out, he wraps his arms around you, clearly wanting to be close for a while longer. You pull away from his grasp and say, “I need to go clean up.”

He looks at you as you stand up. “Do you need any help?” he asks, seeming so kind. 

“No, I’m fine,” you say, not meeting his eyes. 

You spend longer in the washroom than you need, hoping he’ll be gone back downstairs when you come back out. Unfortunately, he’s still sitting on the floor when you return. He must have noticed your change in attitude, because he looks worried. 

“Are you upset?” 

You finally look him in the eyes. There are lots of things you want to say, but all of them would probably make this situation worse. No, you need to be smart about this. Making him freak out and be on his guard will be no help to you. 

“I’m just tired,” you say. “It’s been a long day.”

He gets to his feet and hovers awkwardly for a little while before heading for the door. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll bring your breakfast.”

“Thanks, Choso,” you tell him, pulling on your slip and sitting down on the mattress. 

He gives you an uneasy smile, then leaves the room. You listen to his footsteps, waiting until you can no longer hear them. 

A plan is already forming in your mind. You’ve realized tonight that you have to escape, and soon. The first step is to get rid of the shackle. Choso locks the door each time he leaves, but there’s a chance he might forget at some point. You need to be ready for that possibility. 

Sitting on the mattress, you bring your shackled ankle close and carefully remove the strips of cloth Choso has tied underneath the metal. Then you grit your teeth and begin yanking on the chain, pulling it harshly against your skin. After several painful minutes, you tie the cloth back around your ankle and slide it under the shackle. 

The next morning, Choso brings your breakfast and sits it on the dresser. He walks over to where you’re sitting and says, “How are you feeling today?”

You look up at him, rubbing your leg absently. “I’m okay. It’s just…”

“Hmm? Is something wrong?”

You extend your leg, the chain clinking. “My ankle hurts.”

He squats down and gently begins untying the cloth. When it falls away, a look of horror spreads across his face. Your ankle is wrapped in deep purple bruises. 

“I’m so sorry!” he says, digging around in his pockets and pulling out a small key. “I thought the cloth would be enough to cushion it!”

He quickly unlocks the shackle, then pulls it away from you. With one hand you rub over it, wincing. “I think it happened last night, when we were together,” you tell him. 

His face reddens. “I never realized it. I’ll leave the shackle off for a while. Maybe you don’t even need it.”

You don’t say anything to that, afraid you might say something that makes him suspicious. 

The day wears on, Choso bringing you meals and even applying a salve to your ankle. He seems happy to see you wearing one of the dresses he bought for you. 

He doesn’t know you’re preparing. 

By nightfall, you stop hearing any sounds whatsoever, and you have no doubt he’s gone to hunt the wolves again. This is the time to act!

You start by checking the door, just in case. As expected, it’s locked up tight. But that’s okay. You have a back up plan. 

It takes you several minutes to unfasten all the loops and ties in your hair, which you’d redone after Choso’s attempt at fixing it back. Once all of it is loose, you begin twisting it around into something resembling a rope. Then you drag the heavy dresser over to the window and tie the end of your hair around one of its legs. 

You open the window and look down, trying to judge the distance. You’ve done this many times already, and you’re still not certain you can reach the bottom. Even if you do, you’ll have to make a horrible decision. 

You’ll have to cut your hair. 

It’s the only way to escape, and you have a small blade that Choso left with the medical supplies, for cutting off strips of bandages. 

You have no choice. Choso will keep you here forever. There will always be more wolves in the forest. The longer you stay here, the harder it will be to escape, the more you’ll grow comfortable with being held captive by him. 

Steeling your nerves and your heart, you open the window and climb onto the ledge. Holding tightly to your hair as if it’s a rope, you begin easing yourself down, keeping your feet on the side of the tower. 

The climb down is terrifying. If your feet should slip, or your hands lose their grip on your hair, you could fall the rest of the way. Depending on how the length of your hair compares to the tower, you could smash into the ground or have your neck snapped if your hair suddenly stops your fall from this height. 

Luckily, it’s too dark to see much when you look down, so you can focus all your attention on your descent. 

It takes longer than you expected. At least twice you hear the sound of wolves howling. Is Choso hunting them now? You hope he’s not hurt, but you also hope he doesn’t come back before you’re gone. 

Finally, you reach the end of your hair, leaving yourself only enough slack to move your head around. You look down, and the ground looks close enough that dropping from here wouldn’t hurt at all. It’s now or never. 

You pull the blade from a pocket in your dress and take a deep breath, then you begin cutting through your hair. Tear fill your eyes as you watch the strands split off from each other. Your hair is sacred, it represents your spirit, but those are just ideas you grew up with. Logically, you know it’s just hair. It will grow back. But it’s still emotional for you. 

Once you’ve cut it free of your head, you extend your arms, holding onto the end of the “ rope”, giving yourself a few more inches, and then you drop. 

The ground rises up to meet you, and your legs quiver when the impact shoots from your feet up to your hips. It hurts, but you don’t think you’ve injured anything. You catch your breath, then run around to the other side of the tower, toward the path you’re familiar with that leads back to the village. You try not to think about your hair, about how it’s barely long enough to cover your ears now. 

When you round the tower, you stop dead in your tracks. 

Just a few feet away from you, Choso is walking toward the tower, a dead wolf thrown across his shoulder. 

[catboydreamer]

venti x reader fluff / confession

he woke up and chose you. 

you had held your breath all night, barely sleeping because what if he didn’t? 

you remember telling him with tears rolling down your cheeks , how you felt. 

you were a bit tipsy but this was the only way. you didn’t even know if he heard you correctly as he was ready to pass out when you said it.

you had told him, “did you even hear me?” your voice was so shaky it barely came through. 

his answer was cold, “I did.” and then, he was gone.

for the first time in months you slept on your own. actually, you didn’t go home. it’s too awkward stumbling into a house you haven’t been in for two whole months. plus, it’s three am. you made a warm spot in this dark alley that he left you in. 

maybe it wasn’t the best idea but you were so tired and so fucking sad too.

all you wanted was him and he couldn’t accept that. you remember a sob erupting out of your mouth before you passed out. 

you wake up with the warmth of a soft mattress. so warm and you turn over… wait a minute?! you fell asleep in an alley. in fact, as you wake up you’re greeted by the site of… venti? the one who left you last night. stranded. 

actually you huff. it’s annoying how cute it is that he carried you here and made sure you were safe. 

slowly, you get up and feel sort of out of it. your limbs ache a bit, and you wonder how long you were there. 

venti bites his lip. “I was coming back for you. I stupidly left in a panic. I sobered up after that and went to find you.” 

“okay? so what? what do you have to say then,” quickly, you sit up, throwing the blanket off you. 

venti gently pulls on your fingers with his own to clasp them between his own. he’s warm. 

“okay. I deserve that. /but/ I do know something good here. you mean more to me than anything else in this world. it scares me. “

you take ur hands away from his. he sucks in a sharp breath. he’s losing you, he’s losing you. you can see that look in his eyes. 

“I need more than just a ‘I care about you’. that much is obvious and you know that’s not what I was asking. “

venti sighs. he doesn’t even need to, but he does anyway. 

“okay. you want the full thing? here it goes. y/n. I love you so dearly and so much. I don’t want to be without you. I left to clear my head for one moment and was coming right back for you. I carried you by hand all the way here, selfishly. I wanted to know what it felt like to carry you in my arms. the way I feel about you makes me feel incapable emotions. things a god cannot feel,” he smiles sadly, “and yet, I feel so proud of how I feel about you.”

you don’t know what to say. your heart is beating so fast against your chest. you cannot make it stop. a smile breaks across your face unknowingly. 

You did the only thing that you know how to: you place your hands in a tender embrace onto his cheeks and pull him towards you. your lips meet and it’s better than life itself. 

he smiles against your lips and grips your waist like it’s his life force. he keeps kissing you over and over and over again.

[spectrechosts]

Bloodsuckers - Chapter 2

Full Series

Katie stirs from another sleep under the eternally blackened sky.

"Morning, starshine." One of the vampires says, and she grumbles and slides her chair back into the kitchen compartment for coffee.

"She's grumpy. Maybe we shouldn't give her her present?"

"And after we brought a human all the way here to be her friend…"

Her adrenaline spikes, and she scrambles back to her dashboard.

"That woke her up."

She closes the cockpit and puts it under lockdown protocol, turns on all the interior lights and draws her sidearm. A thralled human is so much more dangerous to her right now than the vampires. It could already be in here, could have planted something while she slept-

"She's still out here, hunter." She hears one of the vampires say, filtered through the exterior mics. She quickly checks under the dashboard- clear- and puts her back to it, leveling her pistol at the rest of her cabin before glancing outside.

There is a human outside with them. She types out a command with one hand, diverting as little focus to it as she can while she inspects her surroundings. After a few moments her computer chimes with results- nothing set off the motion sensors while she slept. She's safe in her home. She mutes the speakers and cuts the lights, retreating back into her blanket until her heart stops racing.

"Get the fuck away from me." She says, clicking the speakers back on. "I'm- I'm armed."

"Aww, bad girl." One of the vampires says. "You'd shoot our darling pet?"

"A sweet little thing like her?"

"Fuck off, you bloodsucking cunts." Katie hisses.

"Fine, fine."

When she looks out again, she can see three of them retreating into the dark.

Three of them.

"Hey! Hey!" She shouts. "Don't leave your thrall here! HEY!"

She pounds on her windshield impotently, but it's no use. They're gone, and now she's stuck with… it.

It shuffles anxiously, left without the guiding leash of it's masters. Katie squints into the dark and attempts a visual diagnosis.

The thrall seems well fed, it's clothes are well-fitting and undamaged. It's too dark to get a good read on it's skin, if it has the anemic pallor typical of it's kind. It could be a recent addition, not beyond saving yet. Katie fights against her better judgement and opens the cockpit just a crack, to speak with it without broadcasting their conversation over speakers.

"Hey." She half-whispers. "What's your name?"

The thrall looks nervously up at her and inches closer to the mech to speak.

"I'm Sammy. S-Samantha." It says. "Are you going to shoot me?"

Maybe.

"No. Listen-" Says Katie. "How long have they had you?"

"Oh, long time." Says the thrall. "They found me when the evac was just starting."

"What?" Katie asks. That's- That's impossible. The evacuation was over a year ago. Millions of workers, shipped off planet before the vampires could get them. Everyone unaccounted for had been presumed dead since the first month. An entire farming colony, completely lost. There's no way a thrall could last that long.

"Yeah!" It says. "We were all supposed to get new assignments, and I thought, well what if I just didn't go? And I'm still here."

"You're… still here?"

"I'm still here!" It practically squeals with excitement. "Listen- Have you ever had strawberries?"

"…No?" Katie replies, dumbfounded. She's… aware of strawberries. She's had strawberry flavor. "But-"

"I hadn't either." It continues, clambering up to sit closer to the open cockpit. "I used to pick them! There's a whole sector, strawberries for miles and miles. The planting is automated, but the harvesting is too variable, too delicate."

What does any of this have to do with-

"Thousands of us, that's all we did, all day. You pick the strawberries and you sort the ugly ones from the nice ones and the ugly ones get recycled for seeds and the nice ones go right into cryo; get shipped all the way to the core worlds."

That all sounds about right to Katie. That's why the hunters are here, to secure the farms so they can get producing again. The place is worth billions of credits. "Okay, so-"

"But you couldn't eat any of them. We were monitored every single moment, offworld security watching the footage to report any theft, yeah? Some people did it, got shipped right off to prison worlds." The thrall pauses, swallows. "So the evac orders go out and I thought, I could go do that on another colony, or I could stay and try my chances with the vampires."

"And?"

"And the vampires found me right away. They can smell you."

"What did they do to you?"

"Drank my blood." It says. "But then, then there's only so much blood they can healthily take, right? And they weren't really sure how things were going to shake out that early, so they just… let me go."

"They let you go and you still didn't evacuate?!"

"No, listen- So they let me go, and the evacuation is still going in other sectors, I could probably get to a ship, but… it doesn't hurt that bad, when they bite."

"What?!"

"Listennnn." It says. Katie can't believe this, why would anyone who had been caught stay to get caught again? Could they have thralled it that fast?

"So they let me go, and mostly everyone's evacuated, and I don't really know what to do. So I go pick strawberries."

"…What."

"Oh my god just listen! This is the good part, okay? So I go pick strawberries, but everyone's evacuated, and the vampires have control of the sector and are probably going to take the whole colony. So I just… eat one. And it's so good." She says, practically shuddering with delight at the memory. "It's so juicy, and sweet, and soft, with just a little crunch from the seeds while you chew. And it's just, a perfect bite. You eat the whole berry in one bite and toss the leafy bit in the dirt. And then you can eat another, and another, and another. I just sat there eating strawberries, I didn't even sort out the ugly ones. And-"

"You let yourself be thralled by vampires because you wanted to eat some strawberries?"

"Hey, you were thinking about it because you wanted to get laid." Says Sammy.

"Like hell I was!" Katie lies.

"And anyway-" Sammy continues. "It's not just strawberries. Corn, potatoes, peppers- If you can think of something, it's probably in the crop rotation for some sector. And the animals! They've practically taken over their sectors, we shut down all the incubators and we're still overrun with the things! Chickens and cows and sheep-"

"Sheep?"

"Sheeeeep." She says almost reverently. "Have you ever seen one?"

"…Pictures." Katie admits. "Are… Are they as soft as they look?"

"Softer." Sammy says. "And it's all ours. The whole colony."

"The whole colony…" Katie shakes her head. "The whole colony is overrun with vampires!"

"Oh, who cares?"

"Who cares?!?" Katie shrieks, aghast. "They've enslaved you, made you their thrall!"

"Pssh. They're not as scary as you think they are, hunter."

"They drink blood!"

"Yeah, and it hurts, sure." Sammy says. "But the way they look at you! And they get so cuddly after, when they feel safe. Not to mention- have you ever sat on a vampire's face?"

"OBVIOUSLY NOT???"

"They don't need to breathe." Sammy says, a wild glint in her eye. "Trust me, the colony's the best it's ever been."

"I- You're insane. They're using you and you don't even see it!" Katie screeches. "All you are to them is food!"

Sammy stares blankly at her for a moment, and then snorts; and then laughs, and laughs, and laughs.

"You're funny." She says. "I'll bring you some strawberries, okay?"

[marchwardenofmordor]

More storyline stuff about Aldros Caradoc, who will be written into my fic.

The Bastard of Maedhros

The circumstances of his birth are entirely unknown. Some say he was conceived by the body of Sauron in fair feminine form by Maedhros, and some say that he was brought to Mordor and abandoned, left to Sauron.

In either case, his father is most certainly Maedhros, but he does not know this. He does not know how he came to be in Mordor, for all he has known, maturing, is that Sauron was a mother.

Not a caring mother, nor a nurturing, kind mother, but still an oddly good mother, for Sauron could not stand the thought of being bad at any given task.

His form was changed, to nurse the infant Aldros at his breast, his earliest memories being of curling his fingers in red hair like his own, suckling at a golden teat, and of a larger elf, pale as the moon, not knowing whether to play with him or rip him to shreds. And finally, of a great black shadow, larger than both, with memories he has blacked out of his mind, albeit the pain.

The pain of being an experiment, a bastard runt that nobody would miss if he lived or died, infused with the blood of dragons, little veins writhing with hellfire.

The antichrist who never was.

And perhaps there was an odd sort of tenderness in Sauron, after the demise of Morgoth, where, as Aldros matured, though his copper hair was of Maedhros, and his draconic eyes were of his mutations, he bore a striking resemblance to a young Mairon, and as such, the dark lord took a strong possessiveness over him, confining the half-elf child to a tower for almost two centuries.

Never socialised. Never experiencing love, nor loss, nor attraction, nor repulsion. Only Aldros, and his dragons, the fellbeasts.

He never slept in a bed - as a child, he was placed upon wolfskins before a fire, and as an adolescent, he took to the fellbeast pens, sleeping alongside his avian-reptilian brothers, one of which had been a gift to him upon its hatching, whom he named ‘Aeryanrhod’ and had nurtured and raised himself, speaking only in dragon-tongue.

He did not speak at all, unless to these beasts, even to his own ‘mother’, and averted his eyes wherever possible, refusing to see into the depths of another’s soul for fear of what he might behold.

The poor child was a wretched thing, sickly and scaled, nonverbal and socially inept, and yet…

He was brilliant. Cunning of mind and sharp of instinct, sound of logic and ambitious as the young Mairon himself, valuing order and routine.

The fellbeasts and fire-drakes were of particular interest to him, first and foremost because they were his only company, and more so still, because they fascinated him. They recognised him as one of their own, if not for his peculiar appearance, then for his smell, for he was, through and through, a dragon in a half-elf’s skin.

It was through this innate ability that he blossomed into something beautiful, forming such a bond with the creatures that they seemed to be almost one when he rode on dragon-back, yet still, the claws of Sauron dragged him home, for the dark lord wished to live through him, to live out his fair days as Mairon, with Aldros’ face.

Whilst this was relatively comfortable, or rather mildly uncomfortable, for a while, Aldros knew that one day, Sauron would slaughter him, for the closure of the loss of Mairon, killing that which was both his prized possession and his most eligible heir, for Sauron wished not to share his power, nor live with a constant reminder of that which he could have been. Vibrant. Youthful.

And so Aldros fled Mordor on the back of Aeryanrhod, clutching one of the last dragon eggs to his breast, warmed by his body, yet needing smouldering coals. All this, and more, with a burning vengeance in his heart, for he was, all things considered, still a child of Sauron, and possessed an eerie degree of Mairon’s personality within himself, and so said he; “When I find my wretch of a father, it will be of great satisfaction to me to feed him to my dragons, and so watch them draw and quarter him.”

[alessandriana]

WIP Wednesday

I got tagged by @glorious-spoon!

I found this on my phone earlier today; I think I must have written it on a plane some while back, and then forgotten about it until now.

-

“No! Give it back!” Jin Ling insisted, grabbing at Jiang Cheng's robes and stomping his feet when he couldn't reach. His face was red and he seemed about to cry.

They were in one of the courtyards in Koi Tower. One of the ponds full of the glittering fish that gave the tower its name sat a few feet away; Jin Ling's sleeves were wet up to the elbows. He'd run away from his nurse and Jiang Cheng had only just found him.

Jiang Cheng could feel the watching eyes of Lanling on him, judging him. He held the dead fish up out of Jin Ling's reach, and said patiently, “Fish are for eating, not for playing.”

Jin Ling pursed his lips and a crafty expression stole across his face; he probably thought he was being subtle, but it was incredibly transparent to Jiang Cheng. "Okay," he agreed. "Then I'll eat it!"

Jiang Cheng closed his eyes in brief misery. "You can't eat these fish," he said. "These fish are decorative--"

There was a flash of white out of the corner of his eye, and Jiang Cheng stood with an excuse already on his lips, thinking surely it was Lan Xichen, because he was the only one who would be dressed in white in the middle of Koi Tower--

He cut himself off, blinking, at the sight before him. "Hanguang-Jun," he greeted, with automatic politeness. Lan Wangji looked…

Lan Wangji looked…

Shattered. That was the word he was looking for.

It had been three years since anyone had seen Lan Wangji outside of Gusu. Jiang Cheng, frankly, had given little thought about why that might be, too consumed with his own many problems to care. In fact, now that he thought about it, the last time he'd seen Lan Wangji and had been that night at Nightless City, when Wei Wuxian had raised the Yin Tiger Seal over his head and brought death and destruction to everyone around him--

--Jiang Cheng blinked, shoving the memory back into the box where it usually lived.

And yet he couldn't help but think that the Lan Wangji before him looked like he had never left that battlefield.

He was very pale, and too thin, like he had neither eaten nor slept well in a very long time. Jiang Cheng had no idea why. Had something happened in Gusu? But Jiang Cheng would have heard of anything that would make Lan Wangji look like that, surely.

Lan Wangji did not greet Jiang Cheng, though propriety demanded it. His eyes, when they met Jiang Cheng's, were flat, filled with a strange and foreboding kind of hatred.

Instinctively, Jiang Cheng stepped in between him and Jin Ling, and his right hand clenched around--

--the fish, which squished loudly between his fingers.

It was as if a spell had been broken. Lan Wangji blinked, and looked down to see what Jiang Cheng was holding. His brows drew together as he saw the now-mangled fish, and then saw Jin Ling peering out from behind Jiang Cheng's robes, wide-eyed.

Jiang Cheng flushed and turned to pitch the dead fish back into the water where it belonged, then wiped his hand on his robes, leaving a rainbow smear of shimmering fish scales behind.

Jin Ling made an abortive motion to go after the fish, and Jiang Cheng grabbed the back of his robes.

"Hanguang-Jun," he said again when he turned back. "What brings you to Koi Tower?"

Lan Wangji said, "A letter."

From whom to whom? Had the letter called him here, or was he delivering the letter? Jiang Cheng waited for more detail, but there was none. Lan Wangji had always been taciturn but this was taking it to new levels.

Well, whatever. Lan Wangji could be as antisocial as he wanted; Jiang Cheng had better things to do. He was readying himself to extract himself from this supremely awkward conversation when Lan Wangji said, "Your nephew."

Was that supposed to be a question? Jiang Cheng gritted his teeth. "Yes, this is Jin Ling, Jin Rulan, my sister's--" embarrassingly, his voice unexpectedly cracked-- "my sister's son." Deeply ingrained manners made him put a hand on Jin Ling's shoulder and say, "Jin Ling, greet Hanguang-Jun."

Jin Ling blinked at Lan Wangji, and then brought up his hands in a creditable salute. "Hanguang-Jun," he said politely. Jiang Cheng felt a flash of pride; not all four-year olds would have managed that quite so well.

Hanguang-Jun did not comment on the fact that Jin Ling's hands were also covered in fish scales. He tipped his head down in the tiniest nod.

Then he swept a glance around the empty courtyard, and turned to look at Jiang Cheng again. "You do not use nursemaids," he said. Again, it was couched as a statement rather than a question.

Jiang Cheng flushed red, certain this was meant as criticism. "He's in Jin-zongzhu's care, not mine," he said shortly. "Jin-zongzhu has nurses, but I don't see the point when I only see him a few days a month." He had plans in the works for getting longer periods of custody, but it was going to require a lot of trading of resources and favors to accomplish it, and he hadn't gotten the entire thing together yet. "It's not like taking care of a child is that difficu-- A-Ling. Do not put that in your mouth."

Jin Ling looked up with guilty expression, fishy hands cupped around something already halfway to his mouth. "But jiujiu--"

"I said no." Kneeling down, he took Jin Ling's hands and pried them open. Somehow in the two seconds Jiang Cheng hadn't been watching, Jin Ling had found a bug. "You're going to get sick if you keep putting random things in your mouth. You never know where they've been…"

He barely noticed when Lan Wangji left.

[blacksunemiku]

also vi allowing caitlyn to call her ‘violet’ is so so fucking intimate and represents so many things like vi finally finding herself and her identity outside of her trauma, therefore breaking those chains and also healthily coping with her grief in losing her sister in a way like damn she’s finally healing for real