#they could do the 'i am not my father' bit a little more subtle... they have said it explicitly like three times in one episode we get it

[hauntingblue]

NOT gonna live post Invincible but the animation on their expressions is BAD like damn

[edgeray]

*presses my face against your tank* HELLO RAY !!! :D I AM FINALLY HERE !! MY BRAINCELLS HAVE COLLIDED AND PRODUCED A THOUGHT !!

or, er, sort of? more like a vague vibe, but i digress. basically, consider: pining arle. how does she realize her feelings for you? how does she cope? how does her behaviour around you change? does it? what is she thinking the whole time? when would she consider making a move? essentially i would like to see you psychologically pick apart this woman. go as in depth into her brain or inner monologue as you want !!! the set dressing can be canon or an au, i’ll eat it up regardless :)) and as a professional angst writer i know you can write some absolutely monstrous (/pos) yearning and i’m frothing at the mouth thinking about it 🤤🤤🤤 lookin forward to your thoughts but also take your time with it !!! godspeed 🫡🫡🫡

An Unfit Role 

(Arlecchino x GN! Reader)

A/N - Oh sev… you spoil me too much. You truly do. Somehow this turned into very ‘Arlecchino is a person'-esque and I don't know how but oh well. I don't know if this answered your questions very well, but hopefully this is what you mean by psychologically picking apart her! Was this enough pining? Content warnings / info - uhh none I think. just a lil bit of angst, 1.4k words

Arlecchino is many things. The Fourth Fatui Harbinger, a Snezynayan diplomat, the head of the House of the Hearth, and simply ‘'Father.’ She takes on many roles, and enforces them with an iron fist, every facade meticulously practiced and rationalized. Perfected as if she were an actor on a stage, every action and step is calculated beforehand. And if external factors or unpredictable variables crop up in the midst of her play? Well, a good actor knows how to improvise. Arlecchino is well aware of her roles, has memorized the lines and drilled through every movement. The Knave has many feats from each character she plays. A flawless performer, in those aspects.

A lover is not a character she can play. Someone who loves. It is a role that she cannot hope to touch, one she cannot imagine assigning herself too. She is far too inexperienced in what it pertains to. Her perception would grossly mischaracterize it, painting a rather crude display of what she knows of but doesn't know. After all, how could one act without an adequate example? No actor would want to showcase a poor impression of an original source material, an actor presents only their most remarkable qualities. A good actor knows what they cannot act, and it is this where her talents reach their limit. It is what her role as a ‘Father’ stems from; this inability to express something far too fragile and flimsy for her to hold. 

Of the few showcases of others playing the role, Arlecchino is knowledgeable enough that they are simply inept showcases. The Tsaritsa, who has shown the capability to act, and yet chooses to conceal her abilities from her audience. Crucabena, an unqualified actor, whose words dripped with far too much venom for the soft-spoken voice that she used. Perhaps Clervie was the only accurate and genuine actor able to play the part, but one cannot appreciate the traits of an unfinished story. And the naive Peruere, who could hardly imitate her counterpart, was maimed by Arlecchino’s own hands. It is here that she learns that the role of a lover earns no applause, because it adds little to the plot, and so it lacks a function in her story.  

Despite this, she finds herself in this scene, where she plays a character unlike her usual, an entirely new character involuntarily thrusted into her by the cruel machinations of her mind. 

It is a subtle thing. First, she was just the Knave to you. But somehow, among your presence, her facade slips, and she dons another character. 

She becomes a character who knows of nothing but the way her sight is captured by a singular person, a character whose dead heart begins to beat, daring to flutter back to life after it was painfully wrenched out of her chest by her favorite story's ending. She becomes acutely aware of this role when her eyes linger on you a moment longer than need be, when she indulges your empty but no less engaging conversations, when she familarizes herself with the particular fauna scent you carry. When she closes her eyes, your smile flashes through her mind, she knows she's fallen. 

An actor knows when to quit, when they misfit the character they're performing. And yet her mind remains stubborn. Acting a role one does not fit will only damage the actor's reputation, and she intends on abandoning it. But it is difficult for her to dismiss how much she yearns for a warmth that the blood flames in her veins cannot bring. It is difficult to deny that she is not momentarily blinded and stunned by your beaming expression, even when you are not looking at her. It is increasingly more difficult to control the pulsing underneath her skin. This is a character she cannot control, instead, it often feels that the character controls her. 

It is an unseemly, disgusting appearance for her. If it were physically possible, she would plunge her very own cursed, clawed hands into her chest, to grasp onto this fickle, volatile organ and crush it just to exhaust the remaining embers of a futile hope. If only it were as simple as that. Love is far too much of a complicated role for her, and yet it is somehow inescapable. Some sort of torment placed onto her by the archons. 

She can long, she can reach, she can prance around you, but never can she touch. For love imprints its scorch marks deeper than any weapon or assault. One of the lessons her story has concluded to. 

So, instead, she reduces its role to a minor character. She lets her stares remain, but she observes you from a distance. She does not dawdle a second longer besides you if she needn't be. She dresses the role of a lover as an observer. Everything she touches with these wretched, blackened hands soon turns into nothing but embers and ashes, and so the only way that you will remain is away from her.

On her desk, sits a vase with a single flower. It is your favorite flower, the flower that you smell of. It does not move from its place, nothing is done to it besides being watered. Its stem is so brittle, and the petals are far too easy to wither away.

(It is a reminder, every time she sits at her desk. Oh, how'd she like to stroke the patels with as much tenderness as she could muster. How'd she like to cradle it in her hands, this source of life, despite being so delicate, is so beautiful. How'd she like to be able to wake up everyday, and view upon this blossoming flower. But she is not a gardener. She knows nothing of how to make a flower bloom.) 

Humans are the only viable actors for the role of a lover. A curse is not. 

(In her dreams, sometimes you are in place of Clervie. Yet, like Clervie, the only moment she is able to cradle you is when her sword impales you. She will not let another flower wilt, she will not burn another flower.)

It is why you baffle her. Why do you gaze upon her with that expression, as if her claws are not one one more inch from piercing your skin and ripping into your flesh? How do you take her hands in yours, somehow slotting them as if they were always meant to, when they’re soiled with vulgar blood? Her cutting words and sharp tongue, how do they not dissuade you? How do you see her blackened skin, and not be driven away by such a mark of impurity and depravity? 

How could you not tell that she is improper for the role that you seek?

She wonders if a flower is a poor description of you. She wonders if you are instead a Sundew ensnaring a spider, unwilling to let it escape. No, perhaps that is not fitting for you, because you are unaware how effortlessly she can char you–unaware of the imminent danger that comes with keeping such a venomous creature.

Arlecchino is many things. She is a coward, if only for you. She cannot abandon her role, but she cannot perform better, floating in the state of inadequacy that she so despises. Playing a lover makes her foolish, and it is a compromising role. 

She is foolish, but she is despicable. She is selfish. And though she is perfect actor, even performers must fail to succeed. One day, her mental will and patience crumbles. She requests you into her office, your doe-eyed expression widens when she gives you the flower that sits lone in a glass vase on her desk. She tells you that you plague her thoughts, every feeling and emotion is muddied when they concern you, a culmination of things not within her grasp, not within her control. 

It is your performance that finally teaches her what she lacked before: playing the role of a lover requires another. It is a role dependent on another character, otherwise it cannot succeed. It matters not how experienced one is with the other, as long as the characters are committed to it.

There is another lesson that she learned from you.

“I cannot act as a lover.”

“Why must you act to love me?”

Love is a fickle, unpredictable thing. There is no words to be practiced, no actions to be scripted. 

Arlecchino is many things. A lover may be one of them. 

[alittlebitofloveliness]

More Darry Curtis headcanons

-Goes to every single parent/teacher interview night or open house at Ponyboy’s school, even if he has to take off work. Part of it is because he’s determined to be a good guardian but part of it is because he just proud of Pony and likes hearing from teachers how great he is

-Speaking of how great Pony is, Darry brags about Pony SO much. Like his work crew and the gang never stop hearing about how great the kid is…except when the kid is present. Then you couldn’t get a compliment out of him if you pried his jaw open

-He and Sodapop both have a soft spot for soap operas and watch them together super late at night so no one else in the gang- Pony included- will find out. (Steve caught them once but he just sat down quietly, waving away their hasty attempts to explain themselves, muttering for them to shut up, and that he used to watch them with his mom when she was still around. The three of them finished the episode and went to bed without saying anything else.)

-Loves music of all kinds (I just know he’d be one of those guys that is SO into music history and makes it everyone else’s problem) “did you know this song was meant to be an apology to-“ “-to some random broad, we know Dar, now shut up would ya?”

-Is left handed

-He and Two-bit butt heads quite a bit but he’s also closer to Two than almost anyone else in the gang because they’re the closest in age. They have so many inside jokes that the rest of the gang gets confused because Two can sometimes get him to snicker from seemingly innocuous remarks that aren’t funny to anyone but Darry

-Has dragged Soda (and Steve by extension) away from Buck’s too many times to count and is pissed every time

-Worries the whole time when he goes on ski trips with his old buddies. He worries a lot anyway, but it’s always worse when he’s too far from home to get there immediately  if something happened. Both Soda and Pony know this so they’re actually better behaved when he’s gone than when he isn’t

-Speaking of the ski trips, he always comes back glowing, for once looking his age, so the gang encourages him to go as much as possible. They have to be subtle about it though, because he gets suspicious that they’re planning something if they make it too obvious they’re trying to get him to leave, and then there’s no way in hell he’ll go

-Loves rodeos but unlike Soda has never and never wanted to participate in one

-Mother's day and father's day are contentious days in the Curtis house ever since the accident, so Soda and Pony just designated a random day as 'Darry Day" and got him little gifts, and did all the housework because they really do appreciate everything he does for them. Darry was super touched and vehemently denies tearing up when he saw the card Pony made for him

-His bond with Tim Shepard is hard for the gang, Darry himself, and even Tim to figure out, but it’s very strong despite how little they actually interact

-Despite refusing to ever go to the hospital, he’s actually the absolute worst patient when he’s sick. It takes a lot for him to admit that he’s ill, but once he does he’s absolutely insufferable. Pony and Soda takes turns taking care of him because they’re both liable to lose their temper if they have to do it for too long without a break. (“Soda my head hurts” “I know Darry” “Soda I need a glass of water” “you have a glass of water” “but Soda it’s not cold” “I got you a new one five minutes ago” “but Soda it warmed up” “damnit! Pony tag in, you deal with him, I need a smoke” “Pony I’m dying” “you’re not dying Dar” “yes I am” "no you're not")

-He’s a super fast walker. Like, anyone shorter than him has to jog a lil to catch up

-He’s a cat person. Pony and Soda are both dog people, and it has caused more than one argument despite the fact they have no pets and couldn’t afford  one even if they could agree on what they wanted

-He and Soda definitely made a secret handshake when they were little, and he still remembers every single move of it even though they haven’t done it in years and he isn’t sure if Soda even remembers making it

[williamrikers]

thoughts on the first episode of 4 minutes

everyone seems to be doing these now, so i'll join in bc i need a way to process what i just saw. putting this under a cut bc of spoilers—if you are familiar with boc's other works (especially kinnporsche and dff) i strongly recommend you try and avoid spoilers before watching! i watched this episode not knowing what was coming and That Scene made me shriek so loudly i probably scared my neighbours. ANYWAY.

okay let's get the big thing out of the way first. bas and fuaiz. HOLY SHIT. i was literally pausing the whole time to text my friend just "WHAT" over and over. They Did That.

let me break this down. boc took one look at the current politics regarding shipped couples in bl, said "yeah we're not doing that" and let bas and fuaiz have a whole entire sex scene. (while gmmtv, for example, let phuwin and thor not even touch lips on wednesday club because phuwin is part of a sacred Shipped Couple.) AND WHAT A SEX SCENE IT WAS!!! i am pretty sure we're gonna see everyone's bare ass over the course of this show. if this is what they're showing us in the very first episode for a couple who i'm guessing might not be endgame?? i mean. damn. what will jes and bible get up to??? mark me down as scared and horny 🫣

sex in boc shows is usually pretty explicit but in this case it's also. just a thing two people do? it's not romanticised. it's strongly implied that tonkla is having sex with korn because korn is paying him for it. korn is older and from an incredibly rich family, and while they were sweet with each other and obviously both enjoyed it, it did feel like a transaction a little bit.

what i found most impressive about this scene was that we got to see tonkla being left alone afterwards and then visibly dealing with that. we could watch him processing—i don't think i've ever seen this kind of post sex unhappiness depicted in bl, and it was so beautifully subtle! we don't yet know whether tonkla was just unhappy with how that particular evening went or if he is unhappy with the arrangement as a whole, but Something Is Definitely Up and it is so incredibly intriguing.

while we're talking about korn, the family dynamics in this show have me in a chokehold. bas and bible as brothers was a genius casting choice, they really do feel like siblings, they have a very sweet vibe together while korn is obviously worried about his younger brother. the whole deal with their father's illegal business of which korn only learns when he is supposed to manage it, the way korn treats his father in general, korn's mother having passed away shortly after his birth and korn being raised by his step-mother (great's mom), it's all so incredibly juicy. bas just has so much presence on screen, he is an absolutely wonderful actor and at this point, i am almost more invested in his story than in the main story 🤭

speaking of which: love that bible got one of his cats to act with him 😂😂 thailand's number one cat dad. but yeah, i am Intrigued, i am seated, i am so happy to be alive to witness this. i don't think there's a lot to be said on this yet bc most of the episode was exposition and great learning about his new powers, and also the narrative tying them to near-death experiences so that we know what we're dealing with going forward. (shout-out to job here bc it was so nice to see him again and also so weird to see him as a character who is actually smart haha 😂)

the production value of this show is off the charts. the first scene of great being pulled back in time was ABSOLUTELY BREATHTAKING. literally the best i've ever seen out of thailand. boc are taking their craft very seriously and it is just such a joy to watch.

also, the numbers everywhere! it got to the point that i was like, oh of COURSE she is in room number 4, WHERE ELSE?? 😂😂

i am so seated for this show. like i cannot express how seated i am. BRING IT ON, BE ON CLOUD.

[sprinklenoodles]

Read Chapter Two and reread the first as well! Mostly as a refresher and cus I didn't say anything for the first chapter and I felt bad hehe! As for my little queries (which I hope there aren't too many! 1. What fantasy species are Junko and Mukuro? 2. What specific age is Byakuya and the others? Guessing they're around their canon ages like late teens/early adult hood but I wanna make sure! 3. What species is Toko since she's now been introduced? Furthermore, on the general side of thoughts, I like the dinner scene in the first chapter. The hint of weakness on Kijo and how Byakuya showed a bit of concern. After all, Byakuya's still young! He's valid for worrying about the man! He's probably never seen him like this before. Secondly, I like Kyoko and the crew just plotting to abduct Byakuya. It makes me happy and I can't wait to read one of them potentially lifting him up fireman style. Or, well, I CAN wait hehe! But, I am very pumped for when that occurs. Or just the potential duel that could transpire since he's clearly a powerful individual and won't go without a fight, especially since they're targeting his father! Some other thoughts are that I like Toko and Komaru being here. Their subtle handholding is not unnoticed! Plus, the bit of lore for the Naegi's!! Helps explain why they're here with the others as, at least Makoto, is less likely of a character one would expect to be plotting the potential murder of a king. Also, another good thing is that it still leaves a mystery on what the other's are really plotting. They of course want Kijo gone, but are they a sort of resistance group? I like the intrigue of what they're up to, with the bonus of the despair sisters plotting as well with who I assume is Izuru. Aoi's just cute too. Just in general. I just had to say it cus it's true! But, yeah! Like how it's going and wish you good luck on future chapters!!

There's never too many questions! I always love answering them!

1. Both of them are dark elves. Can't say too much about dark elves just yet, but they do have a devil-like tail. Why? Cuz it's cool.

2. It was mentioned a few times, Byakuya just turned 16. The coronation happened a month after his sixteenth birthday and the rest of the fic takes place shortly after that, at least for now.

So, the rest of the kiddos are also around 16. Taka and Mondo are 17 though, and Chihiro is 15 (but almost 16) Kyoko also just turned 17, but the rest of the rebels are 16. Well, Komaru is 15.

3. She's a sorcerer! A big difference from sorcerers and wizards is that sorcerers don't use a want nor do they have a big-ol hat. Sorcerers also didn't inherit their magic, which is also why they're so rare. They actually come from humans- who do exist here! They are just very rare and almost extinct.

So, Toko's parents were humans. She just got lucky and got magic powers!

And, yeah, there is a small fight. I'm not the best at writing fight scenes, but it's there in the third chapter!

Also, they're a resistance group. More of that will be explained in the next few chapters, but let's just say that they see Kijo as an awful king. In one way or another (well, mostly the same way. Go guess what that can be) their lives have changed for the worst cuz of his actions.

Can't say more about that tho, even though I really want. Gotta make sure the chapters actually give some good info... and that I don't retcon myself...

But Aoi is very cute. Sakura would agree with that.

[leiawritesstories]

When We Think of Love

Rowaelin Month 2024, Day 11 & 12: Song Fic & Forbidden Love @rowaelinscourt. inspired by "Soul Tied" by Ashley Singh

Word count: 3k

Warnings: angst. and pain. the song is quite sad. i'm so sorry.

A/N: this is a sort-of Regency era AU, so the language might be a little weird hahaha. also, Frederick got out of the basement. enjoy...?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Even though the gown was the latest fashion and only had two layers of skirts with a single underskirt and lightweight wore structure holding up its shape, Aelin felt weighed down by the fine silk that draped her frame, its rosy pink color completely at odds with the grey numbness clouding her mind. 

“You are a vision,” her mother announced, sweeping elegantly into Aelin’s dressing chamber. Evalin Ashryver, Duchess of Orynth, never walked. She floated, and she had taught her only daughter to do the same from the time she could stand. “But why are you pensive, my dear?”

“Simply lost in thought, I suppose.” Aelin painted a soft smile onto her lips. “Mayhap I am a bit nervous for tonight.” 

“As it is well you may be.” Evalin touched her daughter’s satin-gloved hand with her own. “I recall clearly the day my own parents announced my betrothal to your father. I declare I may not remember anything else from that evening.” 

Aelin gave the skirts a gentle shake, letting the fine silk drape more fluidly over the subtle hoops rounding out its shape. “Let us hope His Majesty is pleased with the arrangement, yes?” 

“Of course he is,” Evalin said, brushing away Aelin’s underlying concern. “The prince is the most advantageous match we could have made for you, Aelin dear, and Orlon has long been looking at the benefit of a military tie with Anielle. I know the two of you have only met a handful of times, but there will be ample time for you to become acquainted during the wedding preparations.” 

“I suppose there will be.” Aelin shifted her gaze back to the mirror, resisting the urge to reach up and rip the delicate silver tiara from its perch atop the coils of her hair. She was fourth in the succession for the throne of Terrasen, and she had grown accustomed to the ways in which her family demonstrated their royal position, but there were ever so many moments when she wanted nothing more than to abandon the crown and its weight and flee into the depths of the Oakwald. 

There, parted from society, she could be with her love. 

A soft knock rapped on the door, and Aelin’s lady’s maid entered, curtsying politely to Evalin. “Pardon, milady, Your Grace, but His Grace is ready.” 

“Thank you, Kaltain,” Aelin said. She turned to her mother. “We likely should not keep Father waiting; we know how quickly he disappears into his study if he does not have to make an appearance.” Evalin laughed softly and led Aelin out into the hallway and down the stairs, finding Rhoe waiting at the base of the sweeping staircase, fidgeting with his gloves. 

“Ah, there you are,” he said, looking up. “You look so lovely, my Fireheart.” He squeezed Aelin’s hands and leaned in to whisper into her ear. “I would embrace you, but your mother might strangle me for crinkling your dress.” 

She snickered. “She very well might.” 

“None of that unladylike noise,” Evalin hissed, prodding Aelin with her paper fan. She nodded at the pair of footmen by the double doors leading to the ballroom. “Shall we?” 

“I am as ready as I can be,” Aelin whispered as she placed her hand on her father’s arm. “Only help me not to fall.” 

“Of course.” Rhoe let Evalin glide into the ballroom, nodding and smiling and exchanging greetings with the swarm of beautifully dressed nobility gathered there, and at the swell of the small orchestra in the corner, he led Aelin into the throng. 

She fixed her smile firmly in place but coasted her gaze over the sea of blurred faces, seeking an anchor in the pair of pine eyes that seared into her soul. Catching Rowan’s gaze, she let loose a fraction of her anguish, silently crying her grief to him across the sea of elegantly clad gentry. 

Please forgive me.

~

Rowan Alexander Whitethorn, heir to the Duchy of Doranelle, had known Aelin since they were both small children. His family estate bordered her family holdings, but his father had only recently been elevated to the title of Duke, honored for his many years of service to King Orlon. Rowan vividly remembered the day he had first met Aelin—he was ten and she was seven, and she was a golden-blonde blur of motion on the back of a silvery mare galloping through the forest between their lands. 

“Whoa, there!” he cried in his childish voice, and he caught up with her as she managed to rein in her horse. “Are you quite alright?” 

She gave him a stare far too imperious to be coming from a young girl and tossed her hair with a sniff. “Kasida and I are perfectly fine, even though we are alone. I do not need to slouch along at a snail’s pace like my governess insists.” 

Rowan couldn’t hold back a giggle. “Pardon me, but I can’t imagine you…slouching along like that, miss…” He trailed off. “Um…” 

Her stare melted into a bright smile. “I’m Aelin. My papa is the duke of Orynth.” She held out her small hand, and he shook it. 

“And I am Rowan. My father is the duke of Doranelle.” 

“So we’re neighbors!” Aelin beamed. “I ride away from my governess very often, and I like this forest quite a lot.” 

“I like the forest too,” Rowan admitted. “It’s quieter than the manor.” 

“Sometimes I dream about living in the forest forever,” Aelin said, an odd kind of yearning flickering across her face. “But anytime I even mention it, my mama scolds me for reading too many faerie stories.” She shrugged. “I still like riding here.” 

“Miss Aelin!” The high-pitched cry echoed through the trees, and Aelin sighed. 

“That’s my governess. I ought to go and find her before she gets lost.” She smiled at Rowan again, and he felt the warmth of it in his soul. “It was nice to meet you, Rowan!” 

He managed to mumble some kind of farewell as she turned her horse around and rode off, only forming proper words once she was out of sight. It was nice to meet you too, Aelin. 

She had told the truth about riding in the forest often, and it became a habit of theirs to ride through the woods together, trading stories of what they were doing and wondering what the Oakwald, the near-mythical forest that spanned western Terrasen, would be like. As they grew older, Aelin’s stories turned from school lessons to etiquette lessons, and she had such a knack for imitating the stuffy old people at her family’s banquets that she made Rowan cry from laughter. Still, he allowed her to practice her lessons and her dancing with him, ignoring how frequently she trod on his toes when she was learning a new dance. 

And their childhood friendship turned into a partnership of sorts, a series of stolen moments of freedom and secret glances across a ballroom or dining room when their families were at a gathering together. Since she was not yet out in society, she was still largely overlooked during those events, and she was free to send him into stitches of laughter with her impersonations of the visiting nobility. He even asked her to dance several times, and she pretended to be a simpering debutante but still counted the music under her breath. He caught her any time she stumbled, and he caught each of her smiles too.

He was eighteen when he realized he had fallen in love with her. 

But she was only fifteen, so he kept it to himself, forcing himself to stay within the lines of friendship yet falling more in love with her every time she flicked a hidden glance at him during a long, boring dinner. She grew a bit more distant over the next few years, caught up in her mother’s constant lady lessons and working so hard—too hard—to be the portrait of a perfect lady, but at her eighteenth birthday ball, he worked up the courage to ask her for a dance. 

The smile that broke across her face, as bright and warm as it had been since the day he met her, kindled a wildfire in his heart. And late that night, hidden in a little-used gazebo in a corner of the Galathynius estate’s gardens, Rowan Whitethorn kissed Aelin Galathynius for the first time, and his heart surged towards hers.

Aelin made her debut at twenty, a few years later than traditional, but her parents had wanted her to wait a while longer so that society would be anticipating her debut. After all, she was fourth in line for the throne, and her marriage would undoubtedly be a topic of gossip and news from the moment she became eligible. Rowan longed for the day when he could bring her flowers and walk beside her in public, when he could finally bring the years of his love for her into the light of day, but he hesitated at the thought of exposing that delicate piece of his heart to the scrutiny of society and of Evalin Ashryver. For Aelin’s mother was a well-respected duchess, but he had seen the effects of her demanding nature on her daughter, and he feared the repercussions of her disapproval. 

He suspected, as he knew Aelin did, that one day their secret courtship would either have to be brought into the light of day or be torn apart by circumstance, but neither of them had wanted to address it. The unspoken bond between them was too precious, too beloved to be so shattered. 

Since her eighteenth birthday, he had courted her in secret, stealing precious moments and pieces of her heart beneath starry skies, foggy mornings, and shaded corners. He guarded every tiny bit of her with his life, from the letters in her tidy script that he kept tucked into his jacket pocket to the faint trace of her perfume that lingered on his collar when she kissed him. Although he could not shout his love for her from the rooftops, he reveled in their masked touches, in the flicker of humor in her eyes when she caught his gaze, in the echo of her laughter when he took her to the empty greenhouse on his family’s land and danced with her there under the sunset. With every encounter, he felt his soul drawn more and more towards hers, felt more and more as if his life were irrevocably tied to hers. 

And when he saw her across the ballroom that evening, when he caught sight of the tiara in her hair and the proud smiles on her parents’ faces and the man in the military jacket standing beside her mother at the front of the ballroom, when her eyes caught his and an ocean of anguish opened in them for a brief, wrenching moment, he felt that tie fracture. 

~

Aelin’s first kiss had been Rowan. 

Her first everything had been Rowan, the only one close enough to her heart to hold its fragile pieces and treat them with tenderness rather than callousness. From laughter-filled memories of her childhood to secret, stolen moments in the gardens during banquets and balls before her debut, to the all-too-few snatches of time she had been able to steal with him after her debut, when she wanted nothing more than his kisses and his gentle, reassuring words. 

She’d known for a long while, deep in the back of her mind, that her marriage would be a political one, for she was high in the line of succession. While it was unlikely that she would ever inherit, since Orlon could just as easily name someone else as his successor, her parents still strategized over which eligible noble could marry their daughter. They had settled on Prince Chaol Westfall of Anielle, the third son of the Prince of Anielle and a well-respected military officer. For him, marriage to Aelin was a massive step up, because he was so far down in the succession for the throne of Adarlan that he’d probably never known he was in line. For her, the marriage would secure military ties between Terrasen and Adarlan, a powerful alliance of nations. 

She did not know the man save for a few cursory meetings. 

At least, she supposed as she walked up to his side, he was not terribly hard on the eyes. He was even passably attractive, if a lady was drawn to brown-haired men in military uniforms with all the apparent personality of boiled potatoes. 

“Your Highness,” Aelin murmured, dipping in a graceful curtsy to Chaol. “It is an honor.” 

“The honor is entirely mine, Your Royal Highness,” he replied, bowing low. 

With a flourish, Rhoe and Evalin turned out towards the assembled crowd, Aelin still with her hand on her father’s arm. The crown quieted, and Rhoe smiled warmly. “We have delightful news for all of you this fine evening. Our daughter, Aelin, has accepted the hand of Prince Chaol Westfall in marriage, and with all good hope, they shall be married in two months’ time!” Applause rippled through the ballroom, and Aelin mentally prepared herself for an evening of simpering congratulations. Beaming at her, Rhoe lifted her hand from his arm and placed it ceremonially into Chaol’s hand, linking the hands of the young couple. 

“Would you like to dance?” Chaol asked, polite but also perceptive—he’d picked up on her unwillingness to be faced with a string of saccharine compliments from the noble ladies. 

She flicked him a crooked grin. “I would love to.”

He led her onto the polished parquet floor and swept her into a waltz, his steps sure and practiced, quick and light on his feet. She must have murmured in surprise, because he grinned, the expression almost boyish. “I took dancing lessons too, once upon a time.” 

“I almost forgot you were nobility under all that military regalia,” she teased. To her pleasant surprise, she found it easy to make conversation with Chaol, albeit mostly small talk and nothing about important issues. As the dance drew to a close, she skimmed her gaze across the ballroom and, once again, caught Rowan’s tormented eyes, his look a caress of her heart. 

Determination sparked suddenly in Rowan’s expression, and he meandered through the crowd, joining the queue of congratulatory nobility, but when he reached Aelin, he bowed like any other eligible gentleman and reached for her dance card. “Might you have a dance for me, my lady?” 

“I believe I do,” she said lightly, pretending this was just another ball and he was just another man who had asked her to dance. Chaol, who had no idea who Rowan was, simply shook Rowan’s hand and accepted his civil words, not noticing the well-concealed grief beneath the congratulations. 

Rowan escorted Aelin onto the dance floor, and he placed one gloved hand at the curve of her waist and took her hand in his free one. As he led her through the sweeping, intricate curves of the dance, he subtly tugged her just a fraction closer than appropriate, just an inch nearer to the unsteady pulse of his heart. “Did you know?” he murmured, and her fractured heart cleaved further at the anguish that pierced his words. 

“No,” she whispered, and she looked into his eyes, baring the depth of her own anguish to him. “I did not.” 

His gaze flicked out the open windows, glancing for an instant towards the expansive gardens, knowing the privacy they could steal, if only for a moment, out there. “One moment?” he asked, turning her smoothly in a circle so her skirts flared out in a perfect arc. 

“One moment,” she agreed, and she folded the mask of happiness back across her face. Rowan bowed over her hand as the dance ended, his lips just barely skimming the satin of her glove. He let her walk back towards Chaol, towards her parents, and he took an opposite course, stopping to dance with another young lady before he covertly stepped out a side door and disappeared into the gardens. 

Aelin waited a few more minutes before she touched Chaol’s shoulder and whispered to him that she needed a moment for relief, and she quietly slipped out a different side door, one that led directly to a refreshing room. Before she could reach the powder room, though, she turned down a different hall and went outdoors, entering the gardens through a little-known side gate. Her heart guided her down the familiar paths of the labyrinth, and she found Rowan in an alcove near the center, seated on a stone bench cast half in shadow by the faint sliver of moonlight. 

“Rowan,” she breathed, heart thumping unsteadily. 

In a rushed blur, his lips were on hers, his arms firm and strong around her waist, supporting her as her legs buckled. She cupped the back of his head and kissed him hard, desperate, the ache in her heart poured into the press of her lips, the curl of her tongue. When she drew back, tears shone in her eyes, but she tipped her head back so they could not fall. 

“I love you, Rowan,” she whispered. Simple, true, broken. 

Tenderly, his thumb stroked the line of her jaw. “I love you, Aelin.” Simple, true, ruined. “But you are betrothed.” He took a single step back, wrenching himself away from the woman who had brought warmth and healing and love into his life. Wordless, she could only nod, every regret and wish that shone in her eyes tamped down by the force of duty. 

She straightened her skirts, righted the dainty tiara in her coiffure, adjusted her gloves, and with one final lingering heart-searing gaze, she left the alcove, heading back into the manor, back towards her family and her betrothed and her duty. So too Rowan turned and walked out of the gardens, but he circled the side of the manor, went into the drive, and signaled his coachman. He climbed into his carriage, closed the door, rapped on the roof, and set his course for home. 

Where his own arranged betrothal awaited him.

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@mariaofdoranelle

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@renxzs

@anarchiii

@fauna-flora11

@cynthiesjmxazrielslover

[junkdrawerfics]

First Date

Part 5 of Series of Firsts

Previous

Summary: Jasper takes you on your first date, but getting to it is a little more up and down than you expected. Worth it though.

Words: 1555

Note: definitely not what I planned to write, but I think I like it!

---

He knocks. For the first time since you really became friends, Jasper knocks on your front door. He doesn’t scare you at the window with that stupid smirk or wait outside by his car, far away from your father.

He knocks.

And when you stumble down to the first floor landing, there he is, with his charming smile and the stupidly nice dark blue button-down that you’ve always loved. And there your father is, laughing. Actually laughing. You blink. Your father and the boy you like, who happens to be a vampire apparently, getting along…

Now it really feels like you’re in a different world.

The racket you make draws the attention of both men.

You freeze, giving them an awkward smile, “Hi, uh, did I, am I interrupting?”

“Just having a man to man chat with your prospective boyfriend here,” your father chuffs, slapping Jasper on the back.

Your face goes tomato red, “Dad!”

“Alright, alright,” he snickers, holding his hands up innocently as he backs into the kitchen, “I’ll let you kids have your fun.” Right before he slips away though, he gives you a not too subtle wink and whispers, “He seems like a keeper, sweetpea.”

You groan, wishing you could just melt into the floor. Mortified. You are absolutely mortified. Leave it to your dad to find the best way to embarrass you in a moment like this.

When you look back to Jasper, he’s giving you one of those wolfish grins, one dark eyebrow perked.

“And what do you think, darlin’,” he drawls, voice low and teasing, “am I a keeper?”

“I- You- Stop. No, I’m not answering that.” You trip all over your words, not quite able to make your voice steady. If only he’d stop looking at you that way. It’s hard to even think when he looks at you like that.

Jasper can’t help but soften at the completely flustered look on your face. Your heart is racing so fast, it almost worries him. Gently, he brushes his fingers along the small of your back, using his ability to sooth your frayed nerves as he leads you outside.

“I hope you’re not nervous about our date,” the blond murmurs, tone serious.

You sigh, fiddling with the hem of your blouse, “How could I not be?”

“It’s simple.” He traces his hand around your waist, bringing you to face him. You bite your lip, sight trained on your feet until Jasper places a finger under your chin, tilting your face up. You look at him, eyes so wide and doe-ish, his still heart melts. “You, darlin’, can do nothing to change my mind, so I don’t want you worryin’.”

You frown, heart fluttering, “Nothing?”

He traces his fingers along your cheek, his touch gentle and cool. You can’t stop your eyes from fluttering shut, another sigh passing your lips.

“Absolutely nothin’. I’m afriad I’ve already decided you’re a keeper.”

A snort escapes you. Just like that, the rest of your worries disappear. You peer up at him, trying to keep the smile off your face. You haven’t even gone on the date yet, but you’re already being swept off your feet. As if you weren’t swept off your feet on the very first day you met and every day after that.

“You, sir, are ridiculous.”

“You’re not nervous anymore,” Jasper points out cheekily.

You look down again as the smile finally breaks out across your lips, “No. Now I’m just wondering what else my dad said to you while I was getting ready.”

“Nothin’ much.” He shrugs, leading you over to his Ducatti. “Just that he’d string me up if I did anythin’ to hurt you.”

Of course. Your dad has always been a bit protective. He was probably joking…hopefully. Your brow furrows as a sudden thought hits you.

“Can you guys even get hurt?” You ask as Jasper passes you a helmet and a leather jacket.

“Not in the ways you may think,” he replies, “Most of what the world thinks is wrong.”

“So silver doesn't hurt you?”

“No.”

“Garlic?”

Jasper smirks, “No.”

“Sunlight?” That one, you’ve been wondering about. You’ve never seen the Cullens on a sunny day.

“Not quite,” he hums, climbing onto his bike.

You hop on behind him. “But it does affect you?”

Jasper purses his lips. He’s not sure he wants to admit to the whole sparkling thing. It’s not like you’d hate it, you had a strange pension for loving strange things after all. Like him. But maybe it can wait for another day.

So he settles with a small, drawn out, “It does…”

But you’re curious now, propping your chin on his shoulder with an innocently intrigued look, “How?”

The motorcycle suddenly revs to life under you, making you jump. Instinctively, you drop down to the seat and wrap your arms around the vampire’s waist. Jasper chuckles, the sound vibrating through his body so deeply you can feel it.

“Hold on tight, darlin’.”

You squeal as the bike takes off. Like all the Cullens, Jasper drives like a madman, going just a little too fast, taking turns like a drag racer. And even though you’ve ridden with him countless times, your pulse still races, your knuckles going white at his waist as you try to bring yourself as close as possible to him.

The forest blurs around you, turning into a canvas of green and brown smudges that you can barely make out as you fly down the street. It’s all but impossible to keep track of where you are, where you’re going, especially when a particularly sharp turn makes you snap your eyes shut and hide your face against his back.

You only dare peek out when the bike comes to a slow stop. Blinking the blur from your eyes, you let the world come back into focus, and what you see makes you gasp.

Part of you was expecting a simple dinner, like he said. A fancy restaurant maybe, humming with people and dimly lit. You were definitely not expecting a candle-lit picnic looking out over your town, the setting sun painting the sky with vivid reds and oranges. It makes the trees around you seem to glow, just like the candles scattering the ground around the thick blanket he laid out.

“How did you have time to do this?” You breathe, foot catching on the seat when you try to gracefully slip off of it.

Jasper catches you before you can go reeling into a tree, lips twitching with amusement, “My kind isn’t quite as limited by time as yours is.”

You give him a grateful smile, “So you’re fast?”

“Faster than a bullet, darlin’.”

“Wow. Okay, okay, then how about strength?” You lean towards him, all the questions that have been floating in your mind coming to the surface. “All the articles said vampires are, like, crazy strong. Could you lift me? Wait no-” Too easy. What’s something a really strong person couldn’t lift? “Could you lift the bike? Or a car?!”

“I could.” Jasper has to bite back a chuckle at the absolutely wide-eyed look you give him. It’s like a kid first discovering the world, disbelief and awe mingling in the air around you.

“That’s amazing,” you say, voice pitching up, “I can’t believe this. Any of this. It’s so beyond crazy.”

Jasper turns suddenly serious, drawing you close by the hand you didn’t realize he was still holding. You hesitate, mouth going dry at the proximity. His nose is practically touching yours and you can feel the coolness of his breath on your lips.

“Are you sure you want to be a part of this?”

Head tilting, you let your eyes linger on his face for the first time. You’ve never had the confidence to look, actually just look at him. He’s gorgeous. Dark brows, sharp jaw, and eyes like the sun setting behind him. Not a single blemish or wrinkle. And yet, you can read the concern written there with shocking ease. And the hope.

It makes your heart ache with something warm, knowing you both feel the exact same way about this.

You squeeze his hand, giving him the softest, sweetest smile, “I’m sure, Jasper. I know I should probably be scared, or at least freaked out, but, I don’t know, I’m just…not.” Your heart beats like crazy, making you feel almost nauseous as you finish, “You’re still you. And I’m still me. And I just, I think we’ll make a good we. I hope. So, I’m…I’m all in, Jasper. Is that okay?”

Jasper wishes he could drown in your timidly soft affection.

Tenderly, he raises your hand to his lips. It’s a ghost of a touch, like a brush of a cold breeze, leaving your skin tingling ever so pleasantly. His next words are a mere whisper against your skin.

“More than okay, darlin’. I’m all yours til the day I die.”

“Aren’t you unable to die?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“...good.”

The colors of the sunset did little to match the color on your cheeks as you sat down for the picnic. And the shine of the stars that come out cannot compare to the glitter in your eyes as you spend the whole night talking, asking questions, and sharing stories.

It may be the best first date you’ve ever had.

—-

Hope you guys liked this! I honestly didn’t know how to write the actual date part, so imagine what you will :) love y’all!

[magicalbats]

I DID SEE NEUVILETTES SAD FACE… they are making it so easy for us

also I am CERTAIN Father could handle two brats at once, just as well as mr neuvillette could. both of those thoughts make me feel INSANE. I don’t know what I like more, two unruly brats being put in place or… (bear with me, I just woke up and how do words) furina, the brat of brats, being made to show some appreciation and care and service to her loyal and long suffering little handmaiden, who is very good at following orders but has a hard time relaxing and letting others take care of her. smthin abt a dom handling two different types of sub at the same time, playing off of each other, just… iujghgffghyfg

— dinner guest

Oh, dinner guest anon

I love that idea. Like actually

I’m envisioning something that looks and feels outwardly soft, but with a hard underline just below the surface. The way we’ve seen Arlecchino speak and behave so far has been like that; very well mannered, even cordial, with a razors edge to it that adds a certain weight to her actions. I see her domination being both subtle and heavy handed at the same time. Something like …

“Isn’t it interesting, Lady Furina, that you have the privilege of a life of luxury and indulgence while your people are forced to make do with whatever they can eke out for themselves? They cannot lay claim to the same lavish comforts you enjoy on a daily basis,” Arlecchino drags her pointed gaze to the nervous handmaid standing just behind the Hydro Archon. “Does that seem fair to you?”

It takes you a beat to realize she’d asked that question of you and not your lady. Eyes going round, you look to Furina for guidance just as she turns on the chaise lounge to peer back at you as well. Twin expressions of surprise and confusion, and maybe just a little bit of fear are exchanged before she forces out a thin, tittering laugh.

“Oh, don’t be silly! Of course I treat my loyal attendants to many of the same indulgences I myself enjoy. Why, just the other day we had a tea party together, didn’t we? I even made sure we had the most exquisite cake to share between ourselves to mark the occasion and - -“

“Is that all it takes?” Arlecchino cuts across her, sharp as a knife. “A little bit of cake to sweeten the deal of servitude? Is this truly the only way you know how to show appreciation to others, Lady Furina?”

The Archon hesitates at that.

You anxiously shift behind her, unsure of what to say or do in this situation. Oh, how you wished Monsieur Neuvillette had been able to attend this appointment with the Snezhnayan diplomat. It was resoundingly obvious that you were in over your head and woefully ill prepared to handle it by yourself.

“I — I’m not sure what you mean,” Furina finally manages to squeak out, visibly fidgeting now. “What else would you have me do if not share my luxuries with those who have earned it? I am not a cruel or unjust god, I’ll have you know!”

Arlecchino puts her head to one side as if she’d just heard something rather interesting but her expression doesn’t change or give anything away. “You’re right. Neither of those words describe you, do they? I think what I would call it is selfish.”

Furina jolts as if she’d been physically struck, and you quickly step forward to intervene.

“Lady Arlecchino, please cease this at once! My lady does not deserve to - -“

The Knave stops you short with a slicing look that makes your breath catch.

“Oh, but she does. Even as the ruler of this nation does that really give her the right to ignore the cries and needs of the people? You, for example,”

Sedately, Arlecchino uncrosses her legs and stands.

You shake at her casual approach, those wicked heels near silent on the plush carpet laid out under the tea table as she steps around it. She comes close enough for you to feel the body heat coming off her and it makes you loose a small gasp when the taller woman brushes around you. A clawed hand finds your arm, horrible and monstrous in the way it softly smooths up to your shoulder and then across your collar. You think to pull away. To run and find Monsieur Neuvillette so he can take care of this problem which you are so clearly unqualified to do, but your feet seem to be frozen to the spot.

Without a word, Arlecchino presses herself against your back, hard and unrelenting, at the same time her fingers close tight around your breast. You gasp, and the sound is echoed by the Hydro Archon watching on from the lounge in fascinated silence.

“You, such a lovely little pet,” She croons into your ear, all silk and jagged edges that would cut you if you weren’t careful. “Surely there is more you want from life than to serve and eat cake? Wouldn’t it be nice if Lady Furina showed you some of the same consideration you give her all the time? I certainly hope you don’t think that you’re undeserving of even the most basic respect …”

“… Lady Arlecchino, please.”

“Call me Father.” She gives your tit a slow, savory squeeze that stops just short of pain. “I’m more accustomed to being referred to like that anyway, but I can see that my guidance is needed even here in the courts of Fontaine as it is anywhere else.”

Finally stirring out of her stupor, Furina starts to stand. “Now hold on a minute here! I’d kindly ask you to refrain from touching my - - eeek!“

She falls back with a rather inelegant squawk of surprise when Arlecchino shoves her back down. You draw a sharp inhale, thinking you’ll scream for help, but before you can follow through on it she roughly spins you around and tosses you across the lounge next to your lady. Terror makes it difficult to breathe as you blindly reach over to grasp Furina’s trembling hand, and the two of you huddle there together on the lush cushions when Arlecchino comes to loom over you both.

“How cute. Loyal to your god even now, even after everything I’ve said. No matter, though.” Drawing a perfectly calm breath, she bends at the waist and reaches for you. Two sets of frightened whimpers rise up on the couch but, to your gaping surprise, all she does is brush your rumpled skirt higher. “I’m going to give you and Lady Furina here a little lesson in showing one’s appreciation, and I do hope you’ll pay attention. There is so much more she could be doing for you in exchange for that loyalty she speaks so highly of.”

Beside you, Furina offers up a threadbare laugh. “Is this really necessary, miss, uh, Knave? I - I mean, this seems a bit … inappropriate.”

You couldn’t have agreed more, especially when she gets your skirt hiked up enough to expose your panties to the room. Your face burns in shame and embarrassment alike, but Arlecchino’s lack of concern is obvious. Slipping those long, sharp nails into the waistband, she starts to tug your underwear down your thighs.

“W - wait —“

“Do not fret, little maid. No harm will come to you or your precious god, I give you my word on that. This is but an exercise in humility and penance.”

Ignoring the way you twist and try to squeeze your thighs together, she gets your panties pulled down around your ankles where she stops long enough to pull one foot through. She doesn’t bother with the other, however, and just leaves your underwear dangling there as she then reaches for Furina.

Her fingers clutch your hand tight enough to hurt but there’s nothing you can do to stop it when Arlecchino grabs her by the back of the hair and drags her off the couch. The Archon yelps and sputters as she’s forced to her feet only for the taller woman to shove her down on the floor in the next moment.

“Ow! Please wait, I don’t understand - -“

“And that’s the heart of the problem, isn’t it?” Arlecchino purrs, twisting the handful of hair she’s gripping to make Furina let out a strangled shriek. It’s not enough to alert anyone though. You know you should be screaming at the top of your lungs but you can’t seem to pull in enough air to accomplish that, and you just stare up at her in petrified disbelief. “I’m going to teach you a much more appropriate method of giving your thanks to those who serve you so diligently. You want to be a good Archon, don’t you?”

Furina sucks in a wet, faltering gasp. “Yes, of course I do, but …”

“Then allow me to show you how best you can serve your people.”

Viciously, Arlecchino shoves her face between your legs, and you nearly jolt right up off the couch. Furina wails and struggles, but The Knave is as demanding as she is unrelenting. She forces her warbling mouth right up against your bare cunt, making you lurch at the sensation. Your legs frantically kick out as you try to shove yourself as far into the backrest as you can go, trying to escape, but Arlecchino just grabs you by the hair with her unoccupied hand. The pain that tears through your scalp is immediate and debilitating, and all you can do is seethe while she holds the two of you there as if without any effort at all to show for it.

“Now, Lady Furina,” She intones over the chorus of breathless gasps and whining mewls. “I want you to put that mouth of yours to good use. Show her just how much you really appreciate all her hard work.”

The shuddering Archon keens a faltering sound, and the resulting puff of hot hair on your cunt has you shaking like a leaf. You sway, unsteady and reeling, but Arlecchino’s hold on you is as good as iron. It must be the same for Furina because she hesitantly mouths at you in some parody of a kiss, evidently not seeing that she had any other choice but to comply. It’s not good enough for the other woman though and she meanly grinds her face down into your pussy, practically suffocating her in the process.

“I know you can do better than that. Be a good girl for me and open your mouth. Use your tongue.”

You shoot Arlecchino a tearful look, but all of her attention is on the other woman kneeling between your thighs. It’s clear she was just using you as a prop to further humiliate and debase Furina, and she didn’t actually care about you or any pleasure you might derive from this. It was just a means to an end, and you hiss when you feel a hesitant tongue slip out to nudge at you.

Noising a muffled sound that echoes your own little squeak, Furina shyly licks over your soft creases and folds without any real intent behind it. You feel as equally humiliated by this as she does but you still shudder when she accidentally brushes your clit. Arlecchino only clicks her tongue though, using her hold on Furina’s hair to forcefully guide and drag her mouth back and forth over the apex of your slit.

“Like this. You want her to feel good, don’t you? I wouldn’t have expected you to not even know this much …”

You finally manage to pull in a halting, paper thin breath. “Lady Arle — Father, please stop this at once. There is no justification for treating Lady Furina this way … if the honorable Iudex learns of this - -“

“Oh?” Her unsettling gaze at last comes up to fix on you again. “Are you going to tell him, little maid? You don’t look like you’d have the courage, but perhaps I underestimated you.”

A blubbering whimper rips out of your throat when she leans over you, getting close to your face while Furina heaves against your cunt. Trying to lean away from her just gets your hair pulled again, and Arlecchino tugs you right back around to look at her.

“I asked you a question. Is it not customary to give an answer when someone is speaking to you? I’ll ask again: are you going to inform the Chief Justice of what took place here today?”

You screw your eyes shut. The threat in her voice was not near subtle enough for you to miss it, and you were under no illusion of guaranteed safety just because of your close proximity to the Archon of Fontaine. “N - … no, Father. I won’t tell him.”

“That’s what I thought.” Retreating back into her own space, Arlecchino sends a slow look of consideration over Furina who’s nose is so deeply buried in your pudgy mound that all you can see of her are her pretty mismatched eyes. They’re big and fearful, no doubt mirroring yours, and she issues a soft, muffled yelp at suddenly having The Knave’s attention on her again. “And you, Lady Furina … will you go running to your precious Iudex after I’m finished with you here?”

She hesitates, furiously trying to blink away the glisten of moisture filming her eyes as she pulls in a thickly labored breath. A muffled noise that might have been a ‘no’ rises between your legs, making you twitch only to full on shudder just a heartbeat later when she shakes her head as well.

Evidently pleased, Arlecchino eases up her hold on you before letting her hand slip away entirely. “Good. That’s what I like to hear. Then what I want the two of you to do is relax. Just enjoy yourselves for a little while. I’d say both of you have earned your respective roles here.”

She releases Furina too, much to your reeling surprise, but both of you are much too frightened to move. The usually boisterous and flamboyant Archon obediently stays kneeling on the floor while the unnervingly collected woman steps around the lounge to loom over you from behind. Your skin crawls at her nearly palpable presence at your back. So heavy and oppressive it’s all you can do just to keep breathing when she casually reaches over your shoulders to smooth her hands down the front of your uniform.

“I’ll be here to instruct you the whole time and ensure each of you does as she is supposed to. As long as you remember your place I won’t have any reason to correct you.” She sighs, almost distant and dreamy, and you numbly peer down at yourself to watch those horrible hands drag over your breasts.

Abruptly, Arlecchino pinches the front of your shirt and pops it open with a sharp tug. You jerk slightly at the force, mewling softly when buttons go flying to clatter across the marble floor some yards away. She sets her sights on your brassier next and the way she tears into it is almost violent, cotton digging into you mercilessly as she shreds it to pieces. A fresh surge of withering shame has your cheeks burning hot when your bare tits hit the air and humiliatingly stiffened nipples cut up off your body in attention seeking points. You aren’t the least bit surprised when Arlecchino latches onto them with thumb and forefinger, rather indelicately pinching the tightly coiled buds, but it still startles a wounded sound out of you all the same.

“Now,” She intones, ignoring your hissed pleas in favor of looking down at Furina’s teary eyed face. “You’d better get to work, God of Justice. This little one seems so sensitive and tender … you don’t want to disappoint her, do you?”

With a quiet sniffle, she hesitantly opens her mouth a bit more and drags her wet tongue through your cunt purposefully now. She seemed about as ready to have this done and over with as you were, and you fitfully arch when she finds your clit. Settling in now that she’s located the spot that makes you twitch, Furina nuzzles her face into you while she submissively laps at the sensitive nerve cluster. Between that and Arlecchino’s demanding ministrations on your aching teats, it doesn’t take long to have you gasping in reluctant pleasure and actively hating your body for turning on you so quickly. So readily.

You almost couldn’t believe how unbearably wet you were getting from this …

The Knave is nothing but pleased though, and she hums a satisfied sound as she gives your nipples a pointed tug to leave you keening. “Isn’t this a lovely sight to see. You look rather good on your knees, Lady Furina … I do hope you’re enjoying the taste of your little handmaid. The next time you feel so inclined to invite me to one of your gracious tea parties I simply must remember to bring some of my favorite toys for us to play with. In fact, I believe I already have one in mind for the two of you.”

⭐️

[autistic-ben-tennyson]

Anakin: Why I relate to him

I’m going to change gears a bit from my usual anime/Ben 10 posts to talk about Anakin. I had a period where I pretended to hate him and was super pro Jedi to try and fit in with that fandom. I have changed a lot of my opinions since then. While I’m still not a huge fan of him, my opinion has softened greatly. A lot of Jedi stans act like all people who sympathize with him are conservatives who think you need a 50s nuclear family to be happy and hate Buddhism or aroace people. So I am going to share why I relate to this man’s struggles as a progressive, transgender neurodivergent Asian American.

A lot of people view Anakin in AOTC as just whiny and ungrateful. While the Tusken massacre was wrong, I can emphasize with his anger towards Obi Wan. I have felt belittled, over patronized and gaslit by my father, as well as yelled at. While Anakin was being disrespectful in that scene from AOTC where he reunites with Padme, the way Obi Wan handled it was uncalled for. He should have pulled Anakin aside to let him know there’s a time and place for everything, not humiliate him in front of their hosts.

I’ve made small mistakes due to my autism and dad would make a big deal out of it and tell me “we need to work on your awareness” in front of everyone there. I can also relate to that “he’s jealous! He’s holding me back” scene as someone who wants more out of life and feel like my dad is getting in my way. That scene also reminds me of how a lot of parents treat their kids for having an “attitude” or “talking back” when they’re just trying to explain themselves, are having a bad day or have a different opinion. I’ve also been forced to apologize for lashing out at people who’ve bullied me like in that comic.

When Jedi apologists talk about how Anakin was just greedy for not wanting to share his feelings with Obi Wan or the council, I get the feeling that they’ve had a fairly privileged upbringing. I’ve had trouble opening up to my dad because of how dismissive or terrifying he could be in the past. As a trans person, I’ve had to prepare for the worst possible outcomes and while my coming out went better than I expected, he just invalidated all my fears and acted like I was wrong for not telling him when he did little to provide a safe space, never apologizing for insensitive things he said. Similarly, fans expect Anakin to tell Obi Wan about his marriage despite all the dismissive behavior from him as well as faking his death and doing little to help Ahsoka. People who’ve been gaslit or dismissed for their feelings often resort to keeping secrets as a safety measure.

A child shouldn’t be expected to tell adults anything until they prove they can be trusted. Whenever I talk about my issues with my childhood, people dismiss it as legitimate discipline or tough love, which is another reason why I feel uncomfortable when Jedi apologists act like Kenobi was a good parent. People only see abuse if it’s physical or sexual, but never care or notice if it’s more subtle or emotional. Anakin recognized that Kenobi’s training methods wouldn’t be good for Ahsoka which is why he acts more like Shmi when teaching Ahsoka. My dad is also very sarcastic and is aware of my autism, even praising it at times, but expects me to just understand his “jokes” or insensitive comments.

People say you can’t critique the Jedi because they’re based off eastern philosophy but are they really that different from conservative evangelicals? Obi Wan straight up tells Anakin he can have romantic feelings but can’t act on them. Fans claim Anakin chose to get married and it was on him for not just leaving. I remember being the “weird” kid in a community that was very conservative (family, faith and football) who felt like I couldn’t talk about my interests without being shamed, especially after coming out. I can also emphasize with wanting to leave but feeling an obligation to stay because the people who’ve hurt me do love me and it being complicated.

I think a lot of people who dismiss Obi Wan’s insensitive remarks or child rearing methods are looking at it from an adult’s perspective, since they aren’t bothered by it as much. Adults can yell at, gaslight, spank or humiliate their kids, then act like nothing happened, but when you’re a child, it sticks with you, and is irritating when they try to be “buddy-buddy” with you later. I am also someone who struggles a lot with sarcasm and struggle with letting go of negative emotions because it keeps happening.

This is that post I talked about where I asked a popular Jedi stan their views on adoption. I’m not anti adoption, mind you. I felt Matilda, Suzume and Kung Fu Panda tackled it well with sensitivity. I responded with decency and acted like I agreed with them. But something about their response gave me the ick. I don’t know why but I do have a desire to find my birth mother, eventually. Is it really wrong to worry about your mother if she could be suffering, and you can’t do anything to help? It kind of confirms that a lot of Jedi apologists come from privileged upbringings. I also felt like I had to ask permission to enjoy media that went against the Jedi fandom’s beliefs.

I think that wraps up why I relate to this character even if I don’t agree with his actions. People who say he was just lazy or selfish don’t seem like they understand much about human psychology and abuse and how even “small” things can build up and make a child distrust the adults in their life. I worry a bit about when they become parents and what how their kids will end up. A lot of kids are shamed for not wanting to share their emotions when they have good reasons to keep secrets. How would Jedi stans respond to that? They only care about abuse if it’s physical which is why they make a big deal out of that training scene from TOTJ or act like Anakin abused Rex when throwing him off that wall on Geonosis.

[base-and-co]

i'm basically racing time at this point just to post this before 7th ep of Ahsoka is out because i LOVE my rebel children and want to express this love.

i've shipped SabEzra since i was 13-14, so now when i'm kinda grown, i can finally show it and give it what it deserves.

so here's my little exploration of this ship (and subtle depression/PTSD hints in Ezra's behavior because OF COURSE HE'D HAVE THEM)

it can be interpret both platonicaly and romantically

Can you do something with my hair?

Standing in front of the mirror, Ezra carefully pulled his skin, examining his beard and face. He had done his best maintaining his apperance back in his time out of the galaxy, but there were far more important things to think about.

Ezra sighed, looking in the mirror in front of him, and pointed every detail he could find. What he was not prepared for is how much he reminded himself of his father. It was weird. He had to say "This is me. I am Ezra." for it to sink in, but it was still wrong. It felt like he was looking in the past. The past was long time ago - ten years ago - and today was still new and unfamiliar. Ezra felt like he was stuck in this bizarre limbo between times and the way his face looked didn't really help.

Door slid open. Ezra looked at his guest (or was he a guest in these quarters? he didn't know yet) and was met by Sabine's eyes and smile.

"I brought you clothes to choose from," she said, putting her small cargo on the table. Ezra smiled and thanked her, but Sabine didn't seem like she was going to leave. Ezra was good with it. "Are you not gonna see?"

Ezra shrugged, turning back to the mirror.

"A bit later, I guess."

"Those're new."

"Clothes?"

"No. Scars."

Ezra looked back at Sabine and blinked, confused. She was looking at him closely, and it was this moment Ezra realized he was half-naked.

"Oh," he breathed, looking at his torso and arms like he was seeing them for the first time in his life. "Yeah. They're not really new. Some are ten years old."

"Which ones?" Sabine asked, pushing herself from the table and closer to Ezra. He let out a thoughtful hum, looking for something on his body.

"Oh, there it is." Sabine tilted her head, watching as Ezra rose his left arm up. There was a long thin line from his armpit to his ribs. "This one's from the hyperspace jump. Y'know, glass broke and cut me up a bit."

"When you left Lothal?.. That jump?.." Sabine's fingers traced the scar, making Ezra shiver - it tickled. He smiled, lowering his arm back down.

"Well, I haven't been jumping much since then," he laughed a bit, and Sabine gave him a little smile.

"I've got some new ones too," she said, lifting up her shirt to show her torso too. Ezra looked at her, surprised and a bit bashful, and then she pointed to the round scar on her right side.

All shyness faded away, changed by concern, when Ezra saw it. He lowered a bit, furrowed and touched the scar, and Sabine didn't even flinch.

"A burn?.." he said in low voice, trying to understand what he was looking at. "A blaster?"

"A lightsaber." Ezra's eyes flicked up and Sabine could see horror in his gaze. She shrugged. "Not a big deal."

"It is!" Ezra protested, straightening up. "How did you even..."

"Doctors said I got lucky and it didn't really touch anything important, and the bleeding was stopped almost immediately, 'cause y'know. Those things're hot."

Ezra let out a nervous laugh and shook his head.

"Unbelievable."

"Hey," Sabine smiled and pointed at him. "If you can survive the hyperspace jump and ten years in another galaxy, why can't I take a little lightsaber to the gut?"

Ezra lifted his hands, surrendering to her reasoning.

"It wasn't MY lightsaber, I hope?" he turned back to mirror and the reflection took him aback once more. The only thing he was sure was his were his eyes and scars.

"Nah, some pretentious girl's", Sabine said, and then she furrowed a bit. "You good?"

"Dunno," Ezra answered honestly. He touched his chin and turned his head from side to side. "Don't you think I look a bit too much like my dad?"

"Wow, I wonder where this resemblance came from. Like you're blood related or something," she crossed her arms with a smile. But there was something in Ezra's voice, something a bit too serious, that couldn't let her relax. "Does it bother you?"

Ezra lowered his arms and turned to Sabine, a bit bashful once more.

"Can you..." he hesitated a bit, like he was too embarrassed to ask. Sabine arched her eyebrow. "Can you do something with my hair?"

Sabine blinked in surprise and took a few steps towards him.

"Something?" she echoed, raising her hands up and touching his dark locks. Ezra was surprisingly comfortable with it. He shrugged.

"I trust your artistic vision." Sabine smiled slyly, looking into his eyes.

"Does it mean I can dye it?"

Ezra closed his eyes and raised his hands in surrender once more.

"Do your worst."

It took Sabine about ten minutes to go get what she needed and then she put Ezra down on a chair and started doing her magic. Ezra relaxed, lulled by movement of her hands and the feeling of her focus. His state was close to meditation, like he was sitting there, and could feel Force move and swirl around them, in the room and the building, he could feel so many living creatures it was a bit overwhelming.

"You tensed," Sabine's voice was quiet yet for Ezra it sounded like thunder. It was hard not to flinch, but he managed to keep his peace. Who knows, what would she chop off with those scissors in her hands...

"Meditating," he answered simply.

"Aren't you supposed to be relaxed then?" she asked, pulling his hair slightly to detangle a couple of little knots.

"Ideally, yeah," Ezra smiled. "But it's been a while since I had so many distractions around me."

"Distractions?" Sabine echoed, looking in the mirror to see Ezra's face expression. His eyes were still closed and he looked peaceful, but she could feel that slight tension he bore in his posture and mimics. His lashes quivered for a moment, when he began his explaining.

"It's the Force," he said, flapping his hand on his lap lightly, gesturing around, "It was different out there. Muted, I think. Or just... Distant."

Sabine froze for a moment, but then continued grooming Ezra's hair without saying anything.

"It's way more present here," Ezra continued, tilting his head slightly, following movement of Sabine's hands. "I feel like I can touch every single thread that connects everyone and everything around me. Like I can tap into Force without even thinking about it."

"Thought you could do that before," Sabine said quietly. She could see Ezra chuckle silently.

"Yeah, well... I had to meditate my ass off just to feel someone around me back there," Sabine swallowed a bit. The thought of Ezra spending days straight on meditation out of pure hope to not be alone was very uncomfortable. "I'm a pro now."

"Oh, well I'm very flattered to tend to your holy hair, oh master-jedi," Sabine spoke so dramatically it inevitably made Ezra laugh.

"Come on," he said, choking on laughter, "Right now you have much more power over me than I have over you. It's not me holding the scissors."

She clicked said scissors loudly and Ezra chuckled again.

"What're doing, by the way?" he said, looking at Sabine's face in the mirror.

"Trying to align that wavy bush you got up here," she said calmly. "Then I'm gonna braid or gather it, I think. Not sure yet."

"So, no dye?"

"You said do my worst, not my best," she raised her gaze and met Ezra's eyes in the mirror. He was looking at her, and was so calm and relaxed, Sabine felt a quick pick of guilt in her stomach. He trusted her to do his hair, but she knew it meant so much more. She knew, Ezra would trust her his own life without hesitation. He already did, in fact. And it took her ten years to finally get him home. She should've realized sooner, found him sooner.

"Sabine?"

She shivered, clicking on air. Nervous smile crawled on Ezra's face.

"You good?"

"Yeah, yeah," Sabine quickly shook her head, regaining her composure. "I think we're done with cutting for now."

Ezra blinked slowly, like he was falling back into his meditative state while Sabine was taking care of his hair. She hoped he couldn't feel slight shiver in her hands while she brushed his hair with her fingers, but chances that Ezra didn't notice were slim. He would always point details quickly and now, after so much time spent in hiding and surviving, he must've been even more perceptive.

However, Ezra was silent, lost in motions of Sabine's hands and feel of being cared of. It felt nice and Ezra remembered how a long time ago Kanan would help him with his hair when it got too long, how he would teach him to shave, couple months before Malachor. Memories washed Ezra, like a gentle tide, and he could not help but snort from laughter, making Sabine hum, questioning what was on his mind.

"I used to have a buzzcut," he explained, raising his hand to cover his eyes and dumb smile. Sabine chuckled.

"It suited you," she said, tying his hair in a knot of the back of his nead. "But it doesn't go with your beard."

She lowered from behind him, looking at his face closely. Ezra looked up at her, watching her eyes inspect him.

"Wanna make me shave? 'Cause I haven't done it in, like, ten years," he chuckled nervously, but then Sabine straightened and for some reason Ezra felt in danger.

"I'll do it," she said, rubbing her hands and smiling with such sly Ezra thought she would make some crazy design on his face. Well, he told her to do her worst...

So Ezra just gulped, braced himself up and trusted Sabine's vision. They were silent for a bit, while Sabine lathered his face and beard and started to shave him little by little. She was still behind him, and Ezra was looking in the mirror, watching movement of her hands and the focused expression on her face. It was this moment when he started to recognise himself in the reflection. It took him a good couple of seconds to realize that he was looking at his own face. It was no longer the past, it was something else - it was HIM. Not that boy, who survived in Lothal's sewers, not the kid from Ghost's crew or a young officer of Rebellion, no, this was all a long-long time ago. But it was him, Ezra, he could see it. He could see how his eyes burned a bit brighter upon this realisation.

"Wow," he breathed out, making Sabine stop.

"What is it?" she said, concerned.

"Nothing, I just," he chuckled nervously. "I recognised myself."

Sabine blinked, confused.

"What do you mean?" she asked, looking at him through the mirror. He hesitated a bit, feeling like saying his thoughts out loud would be foolish.

"It's a bit dumb," he confessed, but Sabine only rolled her eyes.

"Go on, stop mushing around," she said, picking up the wet towel to wash lather off of his face.

"It's just," he looked up, raising his chin so Sabine could wipe his neck with the towel, "back then, when I took Thrawn away, I was completely out of the fight. I could not do anything. Literally, I had no ability to help you guys or even to know what was going on."

Sabine's jaw line tensed, but she was silent, still taking care of Ezra's face. His gaze was distant and she was thankful for that.

"I spent ten years, living by hope," he said quietly. "When I thought that I might end up stranded forever or that I might die without ever coming home, I simply assured myself that wasn't the case. I was waiting, and making myself useful in the process. Meditating, helping locals, learning their language and making sure Thrawn would stay there with me."

Sabine put the towel down and put her hands on Ezra's shoulders, watching his face in the mirror. He was speaking quietly, yet for her it was the most important thing in the world, so she listened like her life depended on it.

"I used to entertain myself," he continued, "thinking about what would I do when I get back. I wanted to go fly with Hera, wanted to spar with you, wanted to chill with Zeb and Chopper, as we used to do back in the old days. Wanted to find Ahsoka and finally find out where the heck I was when I pulled her out. Wanted to go back to Lothal and watch it rebuild. But now I feel like..."

Sabine clenched her fingers a bit, watching as Ezra look away and furrow in confusion.

"I feel like I missed so much I don't even know where am I anymore. I know I'm home and I'm happy, I really am," he looked up to the mirror, and Sabine didn't know if he tried to convince her or himself. "But I don't know what to do."

He looked back down.

"I think, I'm scared."

Sabine took a deep breath and moved, sitting down in front of Ezra. He looked at her, still lost, and it felt like guilt and sorrow gripped her heart with its cold claws. She couldn't bear seeing him like this.

"Hey," she whispered, putting her hand on his cheek. "It's okay. It's been a long time, I know. It's okay to feel a bit confused."

Ezra looked her straight in the eyes, like there were answers, and Sabine only smiled. He opened up to her. It was only fair to open up back.

"You know, I was so afraid, that I would be late," she said, brushing her thumb over his face. Tears stung her eyes, but they were still hidden. "But even more so, I was afraid to find you and realise that you were gone."

Ezra blinked, not understanding what she was talking about. Sabine chuckled. Even after all these years, he looked like a silly pup of lotho-wolf, when his eyes had this questioning look in them.

"I was afraid," she gulped, still caressing his cheek. "That the boy I grew up with was gone, but his body would still be alive. I was afraid that all those horrors and unknowns would've done to you."

Ezra furrowed and out his hand on hers, catching her attention.

"I was afraid I would find you and not recognise," she whispered in strangled voice.

"But you did," Ezra whispered back, caressing the back of her hand with his palm. "And I'm so happy you did. I knew you would."

Sabine shook her head slightly and pressed her forehead to Ezra's. It was so important for her to feel him, to know that he was around and to show him she was as well.

"We'll figure it out," she promised, still gripping his face. Ezra watched her, but Sabine's eyes were closed. "We will figure it out, 'cause you're alive and you're here. Everything else will come around. We'll get you fly with Hera and Jacen, we'll spar, we'll get you to Lothal and you'll see the memorial and your home. I'll go catch some lotho-cat for you to talk to, we'll go anywhere you want, do whatever you want."

"Sabine," Ezra called quietly. "I can't make everything about me."

"You should."

"What do you want?" he asked, nugding to her head, gently petting the back of her head with his free hand.

"I want to make sure you're never alone again," she said and her voice was so full of pain and guilt. Ezra smiled gently, letting her snuggle even closer.

"I'm not. I never was." he whispered, touching her nose with his own. "I always felt you. We're connected. Force unites all of us. All of us who cross the galaxy and who stays low. All of us who's breathing and who's not."

"Since when did you become so wise," Sabine smiled, ignorring a tear running down her cheek.

"Dunno," Ezra smiled back. "Somewhen between learning how to ask for water and using woodstick as a weapon to spook howlers."

They laughed quietly, still sitting close, forehead to forehead, hands of back of each others heads. And it felt right.

"Okay," Sabine whispered, pulling back from Ezra. His eyes followed her movement, yet he looked calm and relaxed. She wiped the tear from her face and shiffed, and looked like she was completely okay with the fact of Ezra still holding her hand. "Let's see that you think."

She moved aside and let Ezra look in the mirror. He blinked in surprise, when he realised that she was done.

Turning his head from side to side, Ezra smiled in awe.

"Wait," he squinted, looking back at Sabine. "Did you copy Kanan's goatee?"

Sabine chuckled.

"It looks good!" she protested, taking his chin and making him look back in the mirror. "Looks like you."

Sabine was right. Of course, she was right. Ezra huffed a laugh. He could try to argue, but she would always win. And yeah, the reflection looked like him.

A tapestry, carefully weaved from memories of old and hopes of future. It suited him.

"Thank you, Sabine."

She smiled.

"Anytime. Now, lets get you dressed."

Ezra blinked and looked down, once again realising he had only his pants on.

"Yes, please..."

[the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf]

Paper Rings

James Wilson x peds!reader

description - there's never a break when you're a doctor, someone is always in need. No matter what you have planned for the evening.

Or

Wilson has a ring but y/n has a patient.

requested - yes

word count - 1.5k

authors note - obviously inspired by 'Paper Rings' by Taylor Swift. I am just falling in love with this story of this pair and I am looking forward to writing even more. But I would love to know how much viewership my fics are getting so please if you read it and like it - interact!

Masterlist

Requests open - here

-x-x-x-x-x-

*wilsons pov*

My hands just couldn’t stay still and felt the need to flick each finger constantly. Maybe they were nervous for what they knew they would be holding in a few minutes. I brought my hand down to my pocket, confirming the square shape that could be felt from outside the fabric.

I’d planned it all perfectly. Her favourite restaurant, the flowers. Even the new dress and shoes she currently adorned. She sat across from me looking as beautiful as ever. Her lips moved as she passionately discussed the recent case she’d been consulting on, but I couldn’t register any sound that escaped as I got lost in her eyes. I was mesmerised by her lips and the way they seemed to kiss each word that escaped them. Her hair looked unbelievably soft and I knew the subtle coconut smell that seeped through each lock. She was perfect. And she was mine.

“I’m so glad were doing this. As much as I love takeout and cuddling on the couch in sweats, it’s nice to dress up once in a while. Well, anything is better than scrubs.” She laugh melodiously.

“Well, you look very beautiful.”

“You think I look beautiful in scrubs.” She laughed incredulously.

“Well, you do, and super sexy.” I bit my lip thinking about my girl in those scrubs that fit her body like a glove. Hair scraped back, too focused on saving lives to worry about how it looks. It’s like knowing my girl is a superhero and seeing her in her costume; just so powerful and unbelievably sexy.

I’m knocked out of my thoughts when she leans over to caress my hand. “You need to stop that or we won’t make it to dessert.”

“I’m actually in the mood for something hot and sweet tonight.” She winked like the minx she is.

“I do have an ulterior motive for tonight.”

“If House walks in, I’m leaving right now-“

“No, he’s at a monster truck rally. I bought the tickets especially.”

“Good, we don’t need a repeat of last time. It’s like having a toddler with the humour of a 12-year-old boy.”

“Anyways as I was saying—”

A crashing sound reverberates around the whole restaurant and both our heads snap towards a table where a young boy had collapsed, pulling the table cloth with him. His mother jumps up to catch her son as he falls. She shrieks at the events that just transpired in front of her eyes. The mum yells and the dad announces to the restaurant…

“IS ANYONE HERE A DOCTOR?”

In perfect synchronisation, y/n and I rise to attention and both announce.

“We’re doctors.”

-x-x-x-x-x-

Y/n has just finished talking to the boy as the morphine takes him to sleep. She is still wearing her sleek black dress and red pumps, only now they’re covered by her lab coat. Is she trying to kill me. I join her, having also given up my dress coat for a lab coat. I couldn’t deny, we looked powerful together. Dressed to the nines, whilst saving a boy’s life.

“Simple allergic reaction.”

“Peanuts?”

“No, egg. I’ve never seen it develop this late.”

“Well, the parents are vegetarians so there’s a chance he’d never been exposed to it until now.”

“Thank god we were there.”

“No. Thank god you were there.” I lean down to kiss her nose as she scrunches it up. I love when she does that, she’s like a little bunny.

We walk towards the parents who have not stopped pacing since they entered the hospital. The mother hurriedly approaches us to meet us in the middle, whilst the father’s head remains hanging low.

“Mr and Mrs Carmichael, there is nothing to worry about, your son is fine now. He had an allergic reaction to egg. I’m going to write you a prescription for an epi pen but I recommend staying away from eggs altogether. Ooh I actually have an amazing birthday cake recipe that doesn’t use eggs in my office, I’ll go get it now.” I look on lovingly as she teeters down the corridor as fast as her heels could take her.

Mrs Carmichael laughs whilst wiping away the tears that fell in relief. Mr Carmichael shakes my hand whilst his wife composes herself once again.

“Thank you so much. Seriously, I mean I dread to think what would have happened if you and your wife hadn’t been there.”

“Oh she’s not my wife, but I’d really like her to be.”

“Well, we may have only known you guys for a few hours but I highly doubt she’d say no.” He patted me on the back and went to follow his wife who was slowly gravitating towards her sons room. I suddenly remembered that I was a doctor and had a patient.

“Oh yes, we want to keep your son in overnight for observation but you can take him home tomorrow.”

“Can I stay with him? I don’t want him to be alone when he wakes up.” his mother asked, her eyes never leaving her boy.

I soften my voice to reply. “Of course. I’ll set you up a makeshift bed.”

Mr Carmichael rubs his wifes back soothingly and guides her into the room.

“I’ll go home and make up a bag for you and him. I’ll be an hour tops.” He kisses her head and leaves her to sit down next to her son.

In that moment, I had never been more sure of what I was about to do.

-x-x-x-x-x-

I stand in the door of her office and I just watch on as she is standing on her desk trying to look amongst the multitude of toys and pictures on her shelves.

“I swear I saw the recipe just last week!”

“Honey, as much as I love this sight you’re gonna hurt yourself.” I make my way over and grip her waist to lift her down from the dangerous position. She grumbled but let me lift her anyway. I think she just likes it when I hold her, especially around her waist. She turns around in my arms.

“How are they?”

“The mum is gonna stay overnight and the dad went home to pack a bag for her.”

“We should get some sheets and pillows for her, she’s gonna be so uncomfortable.”

“Already done. She said it was comfy but I think she was just being nice.”

“Or 3 hours of pure stress worrying about her child meant hospital chairs and a few pillows did sound inviting.”

I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. I scanned every inch of her face to commit it to memory, as if it was the last time I’d ever see her face. She giggled, feeling bashful under my gaze.

“What did you want to say? At the restaurant, you were about to say something.”

“Oh yeah,” I was jerked back into reality. “I wanted to say that I never in my life thought I would meet anyone like you. As sweet as you, as kind as you, as smart as you. And, even when I met you, I never in a million years thought I deserved you. I know my history doesn’t exactly give me a stellar record, but I think on some level I’ve been waiting my whole life for this. For you. So—” As I finished, I began to feel around my pockets. The less I found, the quicker I checked. Damn it! My jacket was still at the restaurant.

A lightbulb went off and I sprinted away to look in her craft boxes. After a few minutes I turned back towards her. I got down on one knee.

“Dr y/n y/l/n, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?” I presented to her a ring made out of two pink and red pipe cleaners twisted together.

Tears fell down her face and mixed in with her soft giggles.

“Yes! Yes! A thousand times, yes!” She threw herself down onto me so we both tumbled to the floor. She was on top of me, and we both scrambled to fit the pipe cleaner ring on her finger.

“I’m sorry it’s not a proper ring. It was in my jacket that I left at the restaurant, but I couldn’t wait a second longer without asking you-“ She met my lips in a deep kiss.

She pulled away ever so softly and whispered.

“You could have asked me with paper rings, and I would still marry you Dr James Wilson.”

“So, about dessert?” I raised my eyebrows suggestively.

-x-x-x-x-x-

We were cuddled up on her office couch, our bodies covered up with a single sheet. She admired the ring that still sat on her finger despite our activities.

“Just think soon we’ll no longer be Dr y/n y/l/n and Dr James Wilson and we will become Dr y/n y/l/n and Dr James Wilson.”

“No Wilson?” I laughed whilst stroking the smooth skin of her arm.

“That MD and PHD is mine, you’ve got your own.”

-x-x-x-x-x-

[lotusseedguy]

The Devil's Price!

Platonic WHB kings +Sibling reader: How it came to be This is going to end up being my base for reader in platonic WHB fics, but I will specify if otherwise Short, Also the reader pretty much gets kidnapped and doesn’t care at all in most of them- No Beelzebub here, forgot him-

SATAN: KING OF WRATH.

Long before you had met Satan, you lived in a small hut deep in the forests of Gehenna (Think like Gamigin when he first met Lucifer). Despite your young age and lazy behavior, you survived on foraging alone with no one else around to help you. Satan found himself wandering the outskirts of Gehenna when he first laid eyes on you in a little hammock outside the small abode you had made for yourself, snoozing away without a care to be found. He felt something in his mind telling him that he MUST take you home. Satan wasn’t sure how to do that, so he waited for you to wake up. Once you did wake up, Satan looked at you, and said one thing; “I’m your brother now, no questions.” You didn’t get a chance to properly process what he said before Satan picked you up and walk back to his residence. You never questioned it, and neither did anyone else. It just worked out.

MAMMON: KING OF GREED Mammon has always been a busy man, more often than not consumed by the work of ruling over Tartaros. Despite this, he found himself craving something new: something that he couldn’t put in his treasure warehouse but was just as valuable as all the items inside. Mammon went to Eligos for advice, as Bimet wasn’t much help. Eligos, after listening to what Mammon had to say, suggested what may have been the best thing he ever said. “Maybe,”- Eligos starts- ”You should make a sibling for yourself, your Highness.” Mammon had a good idea of what to do after some thought and he went straight to work carving a small statue made of gold in the shape of a child. With a tiny bit of magic, you came to be. Though Mammon could technically be your father, He’s your brother, no questions.

LUCIFER: KING OF PRIDE

You were a spirit husk (Think like a Seelie from Genshin), floating around the world aimlessly, no ideas in your head to give you any sort of direction. Time was nonexistent to you, and so too was thinking foreign to you. Sometime within your thoughtless roaming, there was a blond man with white eyes and black Sclera, as well as a blue-haired man beside him. The blond man held his hand out to you, and within a blink of an eye, you had a form. Small red horns sat on your head, and a very confused look on your face. The blue haired man laughed slightly, and put a jacket on you, as you may or may not have had any clothes on (That's up to you).

The blond spoke quietly, almost unable to be heard. “Good. Come now, we’re going home.” He grabbed your arm, and within time, you became ‘Lucifer’s little sibling’. Unbeknownst to you on that day, Lucifer had been watching you for quite a while, and had been keeping an eye on you. Unlike the relationships he had with his brothers in heaven, Lucifer wanted a more… Simple relationship. A sort of relationship formed by trust. Lucifer had never been one for words, but you always knew what he wanted to say when Lucifer made subtle gestures to show that he cared.

LEVIATHAN: KING OF ENVY

You were lost. You were a demon, but that’s all you knew. Wandering the woods of Hades for even an idea for your identity, but you never found it. You watched the water levels rise and fall, until they didn’t stop rising. The land where you had once lived was flooded, turned into what could be considered a lake. You sat on the ground. Starting out at what had been your home. You felt watched; as if there was someone there. And there was. A gorgeous demon with black horns stood behind you, and put a hand on your back. “Tears are futile. I am now your home.” Leviathan yanked your arm, and shoved you into what seemed to be a coffin. You pounded on the door, desperate to get out. Seconds felt like hours as you became exhausted from trying to escape. You were scared; petrified even.

At last, the door opened and you tumbled out, falling flat on your face. Looking up, you see the beautiful face of Leviathan staring down at you. You frantically look around at the lavish bedroom, before you feel a yank at your neck. Within the time you spent confused and panicking, Leviathan put a red-rope noose around your neck, and pulled you up by it.

"Look at me." Leviathan stated grabbing your chin in order to force you to look at him. When you do, he looks at you as with an oddly calm face. "This is your room now. I am your brother, and you WILL stay here when I am not with you. Do you understand?" You nod, confused but you don't really care because he's pretty.

________________________________________________

This makes no sense but take it anyways.

[delusionalwings]

― synopsis -> when you accept his yandere tendencies after he kidnaps you

― character -> mammon

― gender neutral reader

― scenario

― warnings -> yandere content, kidnapping.

― a/n -> hii! posting this first because i was done with it ;w; i will post part 2 with barbatos and beelzebub soon~

beel, barb ver

Since he spends most of his time by your side, he knows every one of your expressions by heart. He knows that you are unsuspecting of the way his heart beats around you, the way he keeps imagining life with you, the way he wants to tear every last one of those demons who think they can get all chummy with ya! Maybe it’s because he is close enough to be your shadow that he could kidnap you without anybody being the wiser about it.

Despite what most people would like to believe, Mammon isn’t dumb, especially when it comes to perceiving emotions. So, he expects you to be scared, worried, to curse him, to beg to leave. But he won't let you. No, you belong to him and he will keep you. It doesn't matter if you complain a little bit.

So he had prepared his heart to withstand everything but... there isn’t even surprise on your face. He can see plain as day that you feel right at home in the cage he has brought you to.

Now he is the confused one in the equation. When did Father start making humans like that?!

In truth, he feels afraid that you have lost your mind because of the shock of the whole incident.

“Oi hu-human,” he speaks, still conflicted, “I kidnapped ya, okay?! You are gonna stay here with me and love only me from now on! You understand?”

Mammon confessing his true feelings is such a rare treat that finally you don an expression of amusement and turn towards him. When he looks into your crystal clear eyes and is met with friendliness from your end, he realises at once that you accept him. You understand what is going on and you are fine with it. You accept him for who he is, for all that he stands for. He can be as greedy as he likes and you will indulge him.

And that shakes Mammon. You were supposed to be his prisoner but damn it! If you look at him with those eyes, he is ready to do anything for you. Anything but let you go.

“You know Mammon,” you begin slowly, looking straight at him, “I knew that you were stealing my things from my room. I could always sense your presence afterwards.”

He gulps, a little embarrassed. He thought he had been subtle!

You continue, “... But more than being sad or irritated about the stolen item, I felt a sense of loss at your absence. Now we can stay together, right? You won’t have to leave... or act like you don’t care about me. I am happy being with you actually.”

A moment of silence follows.

“Wh-What do ya mean that you are happy being with me?” he begins in confusion but quickly tries to hide it. “O-Of course you are! You must feel so excited to be with THE Great Mammon hahahahha!”

His heart is racing faster than he can run away from Lucifer.

“I... I do care about ya, you know?!” he mutters and inches closer to you.

If you want him too, who is he to refuse you? He is in the palm of your hands, to do as you will.

You belong together. You will stay together till the end of time. He won’t lose you.

And now that he thinks about it, perhaps you want that too. Maybe he doesn't know you as well as he thought so that needs to change.

[wilhelmina-tepes]

Praise

This is incomplete and I don't know if I am happy with much of it. There are parts of it I love but I feel like it might need a bit of a rework. Thought I would share, may someone else find joy in the idea as well. Mentions of smut with no real smut yet, praise kink, a bit of soft dom Alucard. In my mind he's always an exploratory switch.

“I’ve been thinking, my love,” Alucard turned from where he was cutting plums and slowly walked toward you, “that there are other ways of satisfying those particular desires of yours.”

“Hmm.” You looked up from your book at the kitchen table not quite sure what he was talking about until he gave you a mischievous smile with a raised eyebrow.

“Stand up for me please.” Alucard reached out helping pull you to your feet. Pleasure shot through your body just from his tone, a request you could not deny. “I can give you a sense of my authority without restraining or demeaning you.”

When you had presented the idea, Alucard was fine with being in control so to speak. He even expressed he preferred it to him being vulnerable. But binding and degrading you was a hard no for him. After telling you of his experiences in the past, it was completely understandable as to why he did not want to ever involve anyone being tied down, and humiliation was never on the table because he loved you too much. He could not understand what it was that caused these cravings. “There’s something about giving myself over to your whims that excites me” you told him after practically begging him to bite you, which he also refrained from doing for fear of hurting you. You never mentioned any of this again after that initial conversation because honestly you loved him entirely too much to speak about it. Apparently he had been thinking about it though, much to your surprise. 

You stood not even sure what was about to happen but your body had reacted simply from the tone of his voice—the slow pleasure physically manifested between your thighs.

“Open your mouth.” He stood towering over you, his deep dulcet tone lulling you to obey.

As instructed you opened your mouth. Slowly he slid a long slender finger across your tongue lettling his nail drag just a little but not enough to cause you actual pain. 

“Now close your mouth my love.” Pleasure spiked through your body as the tip of his finger crossed your lips tasting of sweet plums causing a shudder to erupt from inside you. “Now that’s my good girl.”

The praise urged you to melt into his arms, completely at his mercy now.

“Do you understand?” He said softly, running a thumb across your lips. 

“Yes…” Your voice barely a whisper as you stared into those infinitely beautiful golden eyes that were shadowed by pleasure at your obedience. 

“Yes what?”

A million thoughts ran through your mind. What did he want you to say? Not master that was too obscene for him, certainly not daddy neither of you would enjoy that after the issues you both have with your fathers, probably not sir... Perhaps….

“Yes, Adrian.” 

His eyes darkened with lust.

“Yes darling, when we are like this I would prefer you use my name instead of my title.” His voice was low and you could tell he was fighting the urge to take you on the spot. Alas Trevor and Sypha were coming for a visit and would arrive at any moment. “Later you will be rewarded for your good behavior.” 

He leaned in for a kiss but instead ghosted his lips against yours and then smiled showing a bit of fang. An audible whimper left your mouth as your whole body needed that kiss but instead you were met with a chuckle.

“I think the anticipation might be worse than tying you down. I won’t deny you pleasure but, you might have to wait a bit.” He smirked and your mind reeled with possiblities. 

Over dinner Alucard had more of his swagger whereas you could not look anyone in the eyes for fear of what they would see. You had been reduced to a puddle with the most subtle of dominance and you had to admit from him, it was far more intense than any rougher experiences with lovers past. He watched you figit after dinner. Sypha excited about the birth of her and Trevor’s upcoming child, Trevor’s constant teasing about what their child would be named while Sypha argued back, all the while Alucard was content to give you lustful glipses. At one point he had pushed you aside against a wall in the kitchen as you were taking dishes to the sink.

“How wet are you darling?” He whispered in your ear, the feeling of his breath against your skin set your body electric with need. “I could check you know….” The game excited him as much as you now, if not more.

You had audibly gasped but were saved by Sypha bringing her empty plate to be washed. She had only looked at you and smiled as if to give her approval. She and Trevor both were close to Alucard and while they had always been kind to you, there was the lingering feeling as if they had been watching to make sure you didn’t hurt him. 

“That’s a good girl.” He had said leaving you flustered against the wall while he served dessert. 

You were certain that Trevor could tell.

The stolen glances that begged Alucard to make good on his promises. The building tension inside your body threatening to overwhelm you at any moment was making you so unnerved it felt like he was edging you. 

Trevor had seen the way you and Alucard shared a brief moment over souffle. As the fork left your lips Alucard smiled and said “Good, my love?” in the same tone as earlier, a reminder to previous events of the day. You had turned bright red and Trevor had laughed. 

“You two need to finish whatever started before we got here. She looks as if she's gonna burst into flames, Alucard.” Trevor gave a knowing smile.

“Oh, she knows I would never deny her.” Alucard’s voice always aroused things in you but it was worse like this but also…so so good.

You tried to talk about the baby or something you had found in the Belmont library while exploring the Hold but all you could think about was Alucard. 

The souffle was delicious. Everyone had complimented him on dinner, as he was an amazing cook, even Trevor hadn’t given him any shit about it. Sypha had excused herself from the table and was now walking around the castle toward Alucard’s library. You decided to join her deciding that putting a bit of distance between you and Alucard would help the smolder inside you. 

“You two seem very happy and in love. I’m glad. After everything he deserves it.” She smiled her blue eyes wide with happiness and to some degree approval. 

“I do love him very much and I would never hurt him, Sypha. I would fight to protect him from anything and everything.” And you would. You would lay waste to the land if anything happened to him very much like his father did for his mother….

“Good. Now I was going to look through here to find another name to pester Trevor with,” the two of you giggled so that you didn’t hear the approach of your lovers. “I had hoped you had brought some of the books from the Belmont Hold. I keep saying Trefor, we both know he hates it, but we still haven’t chosen a name.” 

While you didn’t hear either of them you immediately sensed Alucard behind you and immediately turned. 

“Darling.” He smiled, licking the point of one of his sharp teeth. 

“Sypha, Alucard has been kind enough to offer us a bedroom on the other side of the castle far away from his.” He cocked a knowing eyebrow at me. “Surely you need to rest.”

“I suppose we should leave the love birds alone. Alucard has been looking like he would devour her since we walked in the door. And she and I were trying to find another name for the baby and still all I can come up with is Trefor.” Sypha's favorite hobby was driving Trevor insane. 

“Please don't think I am a bad host, perhaps wine before bed and I was kind enough to buy a cask of ale for you, Belmont.”

“If you insist.” Trevor smiled and took Sypha by the hand walking in the direction of the kitchen. 

You tried to follow behind but Alucard caught you by the arm as you passed by him.

“I can hear it, you know. The way your heart is racing and there is a faintest smell of desire.” He chuckled darkly. “Would it help if I promised to lick your thighs clean?”

“Adrian…I…” You shivered, unable to take much more.

“That's good, my love. I will make it all better shortly.” Alucard turned and tipped your head upward by placing a finger on your chin. “Now open up, please.”

He smiled watching lust engulf you in desperation. 

You did as requested receiving the same treatment as before but this time once his finger left your mouth he leaned in and nibbled on your bottom lip. 

“This is also a lesson in patience for me but I do enjoy watching you squirm, so much so I believe this will be a permanent game. Now be a good girl and join us for a drink.”

[tamurilofrivendell]

Sleeping Beauty | Chapter 4

Previous Chapters [1, 2, 3] Read on AO3 [x]

Pairing: Thranduil/Fem. Reader Summary: A Sleeping Beauty inspired tale with Thranduil the Elvenking, and a female elf living in Mirkwood under the care of Radagast, who is actually the 'lost' daughter of the late High King Gil-Galad. Taglist: @hufflepuff1700​, @jinlizz-dragondrama​, @firelightinferno​, @bubbleyukismile, @coopsgirl​, @achromaticerebus​, @sleepyamygdala​ 

Thranduil caught up easily to the rest of his company and the group came to a sudden halt in a clearing. Thranduil lifted his chin, his gaze darkening as he took in the sight before him.

She stood there in the middle of the clearing. The Enchantress. She stood tall, clad all in black, a long smooth staff of walnut wood clutched in her right hand. Subtle glittering gems were woven through her long black hair. She was staring at the top of the staff in her hand as if it were far more intriguing than the ten elven soldiers who had appeared before her with their king.

Thranduil, however, was not fooled one bit by her little show.

“Did you know?” Her voice was soft, melodic. Mere mortals had fallen for her charms many times over, for the Enchantress was pleasing to the eye and could sound like a simple, innocent woman. If you did not know her, you would easily fall victim to her allure. It was, after all, how she managed to get so much of what she wanted - and how she had survived this long, other than the power she held within her. “That the walnut tree is often associated with the element of fire?” She shook her head as if stunned by the fact, as she examined her staff of walnut wood.

It was quite obviously a threat and a very thinly veiled one at that.

“Enough.” Thranduil’s voice boomed across the clearing, only barely holding back a roll of his eyes. “If you have come here to set the wood aflame, you already know you will not leave it with your head still attached to your wretched body.”

The Enchantress’ attention flickered to the king, her gaze narrowing as she looked upon him. “Lord Thranduil.” She sneered, mock bowing before him, though she never broke eye contact and she barely dipped at all. "How is your father?" She asked before lifting a delicate hand to her mouth as if shocked at a sudden remembrance. "Oh! That's right..."

Thranduil merely straightened his shoulders, puffing out his chest slightly as he glared back at her. “You are not allowed to be here.” His voice was dangerously soft.

She smiled softly at him, though her eyes were practically on fire as her stare bore into him. Thranduil stared back, unperturbed even as a couple of his shoulders shifted beneath the weight that had settled upon the clearing.

"Well!" She shook her head, acting quite affronted. "It would seem I am unwelcome! Can a lady not wander such magnificent woods for the beauty of them? What is the world coming to..."

"A lady may." Thranduil retorted, his thoughts drifting of their own accord to you, the strange yet enchanting maiden he had found living under the radar somewhere in his forest. "Yet there is not one here before us."

The Enchantress only allowed a brief glimmer of the rage that shot through her at his words to make itself known, her eyes flashing as she looked at him, quickly covering it with a melodious laugh. "Oh, great king, how very like your father you have become."

Thranduil let none of his anger show upon his face. He would not give her the satisfaction. She was so obviously bringing up his father to get a reaction. To pain him. Which it did... but he would not let her see it.

Thranduil had only been a young elf at the time but he remembered her. He remembered that day in Lindon...

"You have five seconds to rid my wood of your presence or I shall do it for you."

She blinked back at him, lifting her chin and making no move to leave as she stared at the king, mocking him with her defiance.

"Mîn." One.

Nothing.

"Tâd." Two.

Nothing.

"Nêl." Three.

Still, she stood, like a statue, her gaze fixed upon Thranduil. It did not show upon her face but in her mind she was going over how very satisfying it would be to send him to meet his loathsome parents.

One problem at a time, though. She couldn't start an all out war with the wood elves. She had to search this forest. How they had even known she set foot here was quite beyond her at the moment.

"Canad." Four.

Thranduil then directed his words to his soldiers. "Ready your arrows!"

The elven soldiers all prepared their bows, reaching for their arrows and nocking them into the strings as they prepared to fire upon the Enchantress. She did not flinch, which unnerved a couple of the soldiers, though they did not yield.

"Leben!” Five!

Just as the arrows flew, there was a sudden rolling cloud of black smoke and the very air around them seemed to take on a heavy weight. Thranduil turned his head, quite stunned by the smoke's rapid appearance as if from nowhere. When he turned his head again the smoke cleared and she was gone. The arrows all lay in a pile upon the grass.

Anger bubbled in him once more as, for a long moment, he just stared at the space where she had stood only seconds before.

"My King?" Feren's voice was the first to reach him, rousing him from his half-trance.

He turned and nodded. "She is gone." He scanned the woods around them, gritting his teeth. "For now." Thranduil turned his elk around and shook his head, flicking his hand out. "We ride back."

Radagast had left the cottage not too long after you had woken up. He said it was very important wizard business that you did not need to know about and that you were to stay inside until he returned, no matter what.

He had hurried after the elves, in case he could have been of some use, but unfortunately he arrived a little too late.

Thranduil slowed his mount down as he neared Radagast. He looked over the wizard's rabbits with a slightly amused expression before he turned his attention back to Radagast, not bothering to hide his weariness.

"Well? Is she gone?" Radagast asked, urging Thranduil for some answers and quickly.

The king nodded as he gestured for his men, who had stopped when he did, to go in ahead of him. "Yes. For now. But we both know she will return." He frowned down at the wizard from his elk and shook his head. "I do not understand what she is doing here."

Radagast shifted rather uncomfortably, his thoughts flashing between you and that fateful day so many years ago. He only shrugged. “You didn’t ask her?"

Thranduil rolled his eyes. "She hardly would have told me if I had." He insisted. "All she wanted to do was make remarks about my father." Thranduil detested how his voice wavered on the word father.

Radagast, whose eyes had been roving through the trees around them, looked back up at Thranduil then. The wizard was frowning and his expression had a sorrow in it that made Thranduil roll his eyes again.

"I am fine."

"It was a long time ago, Thranduil, but you were very young and--"

Thranduil held up a hand then. "Enough. Please, enough. The princess is dead, I barely knew her." They both knew it was not only the princess Radagast spoke of but neither said as much.

"You watched her die." Radagast said quietly, looking at Thranduil sadly. Thranduil didn’t know whether he was speaking of Gil-Galad’s daughter... or of Thranduil’s own mother, and the king did not ask. Nor did he answer, sitting in complete silence.

Radagast found then that he wished he could tell him. He wished he could tell Thranduil that he had an elleth living with him and that she was actually the princess, that she had not perished but been hidden away for her own safety. "It is not--”

"Enough!"

Radagast wilted a little and Thranduil almost felt bad but he reminded himself that he couldn't live in the past... even as flickers of the Enchantress murdering the babe, her mother, and his own flashed through his mind.

"I have work to do." He muttered, tugging gently at the reins of his elk. "If she comes back, I will inform you and I expect you to do the same."

Then he was gone.

"Can I go?" You asked for the fifteenth time that afternoon.

Radagast gave you a look that you had long since given up attempting to decipher. "I just don't think it wise. Maybe tomorrow."

"Oh, please! I promise, I will not stay out like I did yesterday. I mean it, I swear!"

Radagast hesitated. He felt uncomfortable, to put it lightly, at the thought of letting you go traipsing off into the forest on your own so soon after the Enchantress herself had been seen beneath these very trees - albeit near the outskirts.

Truthfully, he was awfully rattled by the whole thing. Why had she come? When would she return? He had already sent a message to Gandalf but with the way that wizard wandered, he was afraid the poor bird he'd sent wouldn't find him any time soon.

"Alright, now listen-" Radagast started as he turned to face you. Your face had already lit up and, as he looked at you, he knew be wouldn't be able to change his mind. "You can go-"

"Yes!"

"-but." The wizard gave you a pointed look. "You must take the bow with you and you must return an hour before you normally would."

With a squeal you threw your arms around the wizard. "Thank you, thank you!" You knew you would have lost your mind sitting in her all day. Even just sitting out in the front of the cottage wouldn't have been far enough.

You kissed Radagast twice on both cheeks, grabbed the bow and arrows from by the front door, and then scurried away into the afternoon, leaving the wizard fondly shaking his head after you.

At the same time you left the cottage, Thranduil had once more mounted his elk and gone back into the forest. He hadn't been able to switch his mind off after the encounters with both the Enchantress and Radagast, which meant he got absolutely no work done.

His thoughts had been consumed by the past and, while some would say it was only to be expected, the unbidden thoughts were outside of Thranduil's control and therefore made him feel weak... which in turn caused his temper to rise. Shouting at a poor, unsuspecting guard for asking a simple question had been the last straw.

The elk moved easily beneath the trees. It knew this forest well enough for its master to sit upon its back and not have any need to direct it. Thranduil was far away, though he tried not to drift too deep into the back of his own mind.

The sound of soft singing pulled him from his reverie and he finally blinked and looked back up, surprised. The elk sniffed and shook its head when Thranduil tapped it gently on the head. “Sneaky.” He muttered as the animal stepped into the clearing and he dismounted.

Unlike yesterday, you were much more focused and you immediately turned when you heard the animal enter the clearing, watching as Thranduil dismounted the beast and turned to look at you.

“I must admit, I didn’t expect to see you again quite so soon.” You told him, giving him an amused look that made him chuckle despite his mood.

“Yes, well. I believe-” He said, turning to look at the elk beside him with narrowed eyes. “-that somebody missed you.”

He watched you move over to the animal with no hesitancy, hand reaching out immediately to pet them as a soft rush of endearments left your lips, and he felt his heart soften.

[thetarttfuldickhead]

Roy reads Dark Heir by C. S. Pacat and is immediately seized by the delicious possibilities of him and Jamie roleplaying as a certain Dark King and his general/consort/queen, golden collar and all. He knows Jamie would be right into it too, but still can’t find it in him to suggest it, because while Roy is absolutely vain enough to be thrilled at the idea of playing the Dark King he’s also vain enough not to want anyone to know that.

(Sad side note, the whole ‘I bring destruction to everyone I love and if they see me for the darkness I truly am they will reject me’ vibe would totally resonate with Roy.)

So Roy, in an heroic effort to be sneaky (which does not come naturally to him at all), tries to dream up ways to get Jamie to read the book and then Jamie can suggest they do a little bit of the old playacting (because if there’s one thing that’s certain in this messy world, it is the fact that Jamie wouldn’t hesitate for a second to claim the role of the prettiest boy in all of existence, the champion, the golden boy, coveted by all).

(Sad side note 2, something something Jamie’s experiences with his father sometimes leading him to think he’s only any good if he’s the best, his abilities far more important than him as a person, him only wanted for the skills he bring… Gooey center in a sharp arsehole coating.)

Roy tries leaving the book out, hoping that Jamie will pick it up. (Jamie does not. Jamie has selfies to snap and penalties to practise and Keeley to take shopping.) Roy calls Ted and tries to convince him to suggest the novel to Jamie. (Ted does not. “Think I might have fumbled it a little with my last book assignment, you know, think I’d rather just let Jamie pick his own reading from now on.”) Roy floats the idea of a team book club where everyone will read Dark Heir. “It’ll be like, bonding and shit.” (Beard reads the book. Beard comes back to Nelson Road and just fixes Roy with that stare of his and says, “No. And if you want something from Jamie, the right way to get it is to talk to him about it.”)

Roy does not take Beard’s advice. In desperation, he starts reading aloud to Jamie, on lazy afternoons spread out on the coach. He doesn’t start with Dark Heir, either, that’d be too obvious, he reads a couple of other books first, and then he pulls out Dark Rise and its sequel, and—

“Hey, do you know what would be really sexy?”

Finally. Roy feels a wave of relieved anticipation sweep over him at Jamie’s interruption. Months and months of desperate yearning and now his hard work will finally be rewarded and—

“We could, like, pretend that I’m the Dark King and I’d get you this really nice collar, I’d make it real gold and everything, and you’d do anything I say. That’s be hot, right?”

Roy freezes. Blinks. Stares at Jamie, because— “Fucking what— ” he sputters. “That’s not— I’m the Dark King, you’re—

And Jamie laughs, bright and triumphant. “I fucking knew it!” he says, eyes dancing as he shakes his head, looking equal parts smug and fond. “You’re not fucking subtle, man.”

His cheeks are heating up, Roy can feel it, but he resists the urge to get up and stalk off, because while Jamie’s clearly giddy with glee, he doesn’t look disgusted or put off or upset. If anything, he looks delighted.

Roy clears his throat. “So… that’s something… you’d be interested in, then?”

Jamie looks up at him through his lashes, his grin morphing into something far softer and more pliant. He shifts, pulling his legs up under him, until he’s almost kneeling on the coach next to Roy. “How do you want me… my King?” he murmurs.

And then, just before Roy can pull him in for a kiss meant to devour, he adds, “Not joking about the collar being gold, though. And maybe mix the rubies up with sapphires, red and blue for Richmond, right? Bet I’d look dead fit in that.”

“Yeah, okay,” Roy agrees, so quickly the words are almost unintelligible.

He’ll get Jamie a golden collar. He’ll get him the whole fucking world.

Bonus: If you (like me) lean RJK, Keeley could join in as the Lady, make it a very messy threesome. Or, I suppose, she could get her turn as the Dark King, have Roy be Visander.