#tiny night lord life update

[kit-williams]

Momrad to Konrad: Vacation!

So we went on a Vacation and had an INCIDENT but this is about my tiny night lord! Visited Dadatar's family so it was nice to not watch my son at all!

He learned how to say grandma "Anmah"

He learned how to say kitty "itty"

He was very nice to the dog and the cats. Got a hang of petting the dog but the cats he kept trying to pet them like how he pets the dog... but was very gentle with them so a very good boy.

Got so many new clothes from grandma alpharius and did a good job trying many new foods! Idk what it is about her but he behaved for grandma.

Uhhh he handled the drive back rather well though he did throw his glass bottle out of the car when we had stopped at one point and it broke sooooo... yeah no more glass bottles for him.

But uh yeah was a good trip minus the INCIDENT

[k-hippie]

K-505 LIFE & DEATH - WELCOME TO RAVENWOOD

So, you made your k-505 basegame update ? ( see previous post ) Excellent ! And you already downloaded k-303 and k-606 updated just for you ? ( see previous post ) Great ! Now, let's talk about the new expansion terrains and urban k-505 mod for Life & Death :)

Welcome to Ravenwood, where life and the afterlife hang out together. This little town might look all quaint and charming. Now, whether you’re living with ghosts, working under the Grim Reaper itself, or just hanging around for the vibes, Ravenwood is ready to accommodate. We’re really hoping you’re here for more than just those haunted trees, though—because frankly, they’re as weird as they are creepy …

Ramparts and flower bushes, trees and paved streets. As usual, we did our best to make this little place better. With or without the Grim Reaper's approval. Hell, we just revamped the place and left as soon as we could :D

Even we know there will be tiny updates to do in the coming weeks, we tried to bring a bit of depth. This place is now beautiful and no Lord Vampire ( hello Vlad ! ) no Death and no ghost ( tree or cowplant ) can argue against it and claim a refund ( ha! talk about a loophole ) because once you see Ravenwood with this k-505 overhaul, there's no going back ... :D You are warned !

We brought ramparts that look like they’ve survived a thousand hauntings, lush flower bushes that’d make any ghost jealous, and revamped the streets with cobblestones just begging to be strolled by mysterious figures at midnight ;)

With the Grim Reaper’s silent nod ( or maybe just his lack of objection ), we’ve given the place a full facelift—adding textures and details that even Vlad might have to admit are an improvement.

Now, between haunted trees, ghostly cowplants, and whatever else wanders these streets at night, Ravenwood has the polished but spooky glow it deserves. And hey, if any ghouls want a refund, they’ll have to take it up with Grim itself ( because yes : we have some agreement indeed ) :D

Are you ready to get a deeper and immersive gameplay ?

PLEASE, do not forget : delete the existing K-505 BASEGAME files and replace them with the ones ( dated as 11112024 ) provided in the previous post. Do not panic, the grassy and groundy parts are still dated 08082024 because untouched since this date :)

As usually, have fun ! xoxo everyone :)

download Ravenwood k-505 mod

...

[bobbeshwar]

sorry i just wanted to hear you s(cream)!

☆ summary: ghostface is in town and it’s either fuck or flee… we all know what you chose…

★ warnings: ghostface!sukuna, fem-reader, reader is a serial killer fanatic, sort of same setting as scream 1(so early 2000s), smutt, dark themes, mask kink, chase play, weapon usage(knife), ghostface hates to see reader coming, a little bit of cuting, dirty talking, degradation, a little bit of voyeurism, sukuna is super mean(but like duh), oral, rough sex, dumbification, choking, spanking, suffocation, hair pulling, squirting. come eating/swallowing, etc.

☆ word count: 3.4k~

★ a/n: boomshakalaka yes gawwwwddd

also thank you to the loml @alainatranquility for the idea☺️

The grainy image of the masked killer flickering on your tiny television set should have frightened you. Should have had you double-locking your doors and crawling under your covers, praying to wake up safely. 

“We advise everyone to stay indoors...” The reporter's voice droned on, your gaze locked on that blurry photo. A ghastly white mask open in a scream, blood spattered on the knife clutched in the killer’s hand. You could feel your thighs clenching, breath hitching as you shuffled on your living room couch. 

This was a real life serial killer in your town. A murderer who killed people for sport. Not a person in a documentary or character in a scary movie. If he’d ever met you he would probably gut you like a fish and have no mercy doing it. 

You held your breath at the thought: those gloved hands, one roughly grasping your throat and the other driving his knife repeatedly into your side. Fuck, you were wet. 

You’d been following the masked killer for weeks. Waiting with bated breath for another news report to air out about his latest victim. Lamenting with your friends about the serial killer invading your town knowing you clutched your sheets and came nightly to the thought of him invading you.

You tried to find him multiple times, rushed to crime scenes in the wake of his murders hoping to catch a glimpse, get a glance at the man absolutely ruining the equilibrium of your small suburban town. 

But he was always gone without a trace. Nowhere to be found. The news gave updates on each new kill added to his list, but couldn’t figure out where he was, who he was. This ghost face—what the news began calling him—was like something out of a movie, a fantasy. 

And so you planned to do the next best thing: use yourself as bait. 

Ghostface killed mostly at night, so it was 1am when you found yourself trekking through the woods, awaiting your could-be killer. 

A distant howl had you gasping as you whipped your head towards the sound, the only source of light the full moon hanging distantly in the sky. Twigs snapped beneath your boot-covered feet as you shuffled through the seemingly endless forest, feeling a little stupid for standing in the woods, waiting for a serial killer to come find you. At this point, you’d instead be dead from an animal attack. 

But this is what attracted the killer, you thought. 

You tried to seem open, inviting, like you were some dumb girl, walking foolishly in the woods at night. Maybe you should have brought your ex, they’d put up a good front, and lord knows they were itching to see you again. You wouldn’t mind if Ghostface took them out. 

But no, this was better. There’d be no witnesses to your shame. No eyes as you lived out your darkest desire. 

You hear a twig snap behind you and you turn quickly towards the sound, heart thumping in your chest as your eyes roam across the patchy forest, silent despite the noises. You move ahead, your thighs slick and face hot as you hold your coat a little tighter, fear coursing through your body and setting it practically aflame. 

A rustle sounds and you jump, turning once again towards the source of the sound, just a bunny in the bushes. You heave a sigh of relief turning forwards to continue walking—

Your breath is stolen by the killer standing before you. How could he even be that quiet?? He was so…

Big. Enormous is the only way to describe him. Huge broad shoulders covered by black robes, so tall he could probably grab the highest branch of the nearest tree with ease. Towering over you, he seemed more monster than man. Or maybe that was the signature ghost mask covering his face and the gleaming knife in his big gloved hand. 

He was everything and more than what you imagined him to be. You crumpled to the ground as your legs give way and you try to look scared, to will away the smile threatening to consume your face and your eyes already clouding with lust. 

Ghostface approaches you, each step making your body tremble with need as he towers over you. You somehow twist your face into a terrified expression, taking in those big thighs straining the confines of his robes and the shadow cast over your face as he stares down at you and tilts his head. 

Fuck, you think you came. “P-Please don’t kill me.” You whisper, and Ghostface says nothing. Not surprising. 

But what is surprising is his gloved hand grabbing a tight hold of your hair and yanking you towards him. 

Pain flares in your scalp and you hold back a moan, but a whimper still escapes from your lips. Maybe you sounded pained(you probably didn’t). 

He leans down, masked covered face inches away from yours and you can’t even hear him breathing. His left hand clutching you like a rag doll by your hair and his right holding his knife. Which he brings to your neck, the sharp end nearly pressing into the skin just below your chin. 

You were practically trickling into the grass at this point. “Please, please…” you softly beg, and he pushes the blade into your skin, you let out a squeak from the contact, pain and pleasure dueling within you as you feel the blood dripping from your neck. But no, he couldn’t kill you just yet. 

You break free of his hold. Somehow. Darting off quickly away from him on your trembling legs. The cut he made in your skin wasn’t deep, you wouldn’t bleed out or anything. But if you hadn’t run the fun would have been over, he would have driven that knife into your neck and watched you choke to death on your own blood. 

And why did that thought make you more horny?? 

You stop to take a breath, propping yourself up against a nearby tree, chest heaving and skin sticky with sweat. You chuck off your jacket, goosebumps immediately rising on your flesh as you stand in nothing but a practically see through tank top and a pair of leggings. Perhaps he’d get a load of your tits transparent against the cheap fabric of your shirt, and want to brutally fuck you. 

The thought almost has you slipping your hand beneath your leggings and finishing against that tree. But you needed to keep running. You jog for a few more minutes, then break into a full blown run when you catch a glimpse of a shadow in the distance. 

You’re no athlete, so it only takes a few more minutes before you’re toppling to the ground, heaving in breaths. He’d find you for sure. 

Crunch, crunch, the sound of footsteps, walking calmly in your direction. You tried to stand, propping yourself up against the nearest tree but you were spent. It’d only been what, fifteen minutes and your legs weren’t fucking working. Shit. 

Still you manage to crawl, hoping to keep up the fun as long as you could. His footsteps are getting louder and louder, till your vision is obscured by the shadow of his massive body and he leans down to grab you and throw you into the nearest tree. 

You let out a groan from the pain blooming in your back, but the sensation is driving you mad with need. He was so rough with you, no regards for your life. Treating you like a mere object. 

His hand comes up to your throat before you can even think another sinful thought, and your thighs feel damp. You barely manage a whimper, his hand pinning you against the wall by your neck. 

He’s trying to kill you, you remind yourself. Maybe don’t think about how close his big body is to yours and how you can hear the sound of his breathing. You wondered what he looked like under the mask, if he was as elated as you were right now. 

You’re struggling to breathe, remember? Oh right, your eyes roll back as your breath is stolen from you and your face almost purples. If you weren’t currently suffering from asphyxiation, you’d realize your feet were well off the ground and you were being dangled against the tree. 

“Pl…ease,” you gasp, grabbing at his hand. But his hold was like fucking steel, “don’t…kill me..u..se me.” His grip loosens for the slightest second and you take advantage of it, breaking free and tumbling to the ground. You inhale mouthfuls of air as you grab at your bruised throat. 

The jig was up it seemed, so you did not hesitate as you latched onto him, pressing your face into his crotch and glancing up at him with as innocent of an expression as you could muster, “Please? I can be really good.” 

He immediately shoves you off, your back smacking once again into the tree. You groan again, guess he was immune to your charm.

“Fucking freak.” You almost miss it as you rub at your stinging lower back. But it’s unmissable, the sound of his voice. Deep, possibly made deeper by the confines of the mask and so fucking perfect. 

And he used it to call you a freak. 

You can’t take it anymore, you prop yourself up against the tree, slipping a hand into your leggings and rubbing yourself through your already soaked panties. Moaning loudly as you looked up at him. 

You stuffed three fingers into your sopping pussy, and he watched. Body language slightly open, as if considering if you were even worth the fuck. 

“Please, please fuck me. U-Use me.” You moaned, absolutely ruining your leggings. “You can kill me after, fuck—I need you.” Your body arched into your own touch, head falling back against the hard bark as you practically rode your fingers, thumbing at your clit and whining as your orgasm practically took you—

But you didn’t get the chance, because he was grabbing you by your hair once again, roughly bringing your face into the huge visible bulge hiding beneath his robes. You looked up at him and he down at you, before he gestured with the knife in his right hand for you to get to work.

You quickly pawed at his robes and excitedly undid his pants. Hands trembling as you set that monster free. Fuck, he was huge, bigger than anything you’d ever seen. Would this even fit in you?? Long, thick and covered in veins, there was a black tattooed band around the base that somehow made him hotter. You wondered where else he had tattoos.

Your eyes were practically heart shaped as you gave a few shallow licks to his flushed tip, shuddering at the addicting taste of his precome on your tongue. Each stripe of your tongue along his cock had you moaning, slipping your hand between your legs to rub at your clit as you took him into your mouth. 

His hand was still dusted in your hair and he was still looking down at you, watching you drool all over his cock. He applied pressure to his hold, forcefully shoving his length down your throat. You didn’t even have a moment to protest as your eyes rolled back and you struggled to breathe. He was fucking his cock into your drooling mouth like you were some sort of sex doll. Sliding in and out of your mouth like you were just another fleshlight.

You could feel your mouth swelling from the friction, hear the sounds of your gagging on his fat cock, feel the tears rolling down your cheek as you nearly suffocated, your hands digging into him as you simultaneously wished for the torture to end and wanted it to last forever. 

It did end, both thankfully and unthanfully as he emptied into your mouth, fucking a few more shallow thrusts into your face before he indelicately let you go. 

You coughed immediately, struggling to breath as his cum trickled from your lips. His hand didn’t leave you as he brought it down to your chin, keeping it closed. He was silent of course, but you could feel the threat radiating off of him as he looked down at you: he wanted you to swallow all of it, despite the fact that you were struggling to breathe. 

You gleefully obliged, feeling his warm his come sliding down your throat. He propped your mouth open with his gloved thumb and you stuck your tongue out, showing him you’d done as told. 

“Have I been good?” You pondered, with the ghost of a smirk, you brought your hand to your mouth swiping your finger across your bottom lip before sucking it into your mouth. 

And to your surprise he had a response, “You fucking slut.” Your pussy clenched almost immediately, a moan making its way past your lips. Once again, he grabbed you by your throat, dragging you off the ground and pinning you to the tree. 

He brought his knife to the front of your lose tank top, dragging it through the fabric till it tore and your chest was exposed. You could feel the cool of the blade against your inner thigh as he pushed your legs apart, tearing apart your leggings. 

With no warning—of course no warning—he stuffed his cock into you. You could barely choke out the words, “you’re too big!” around his hand on your throat, before he’d pushed himself all the way in with a slight grunt. 

The stretch was unbearable, even stuffing three fingers into your pussy prior was practically useless. Still, the pain of his fat cock digging in you set pleasure shooting through your body, had you tightening around him as you ground into him and he bottomed out inside you. 

“There’s always freaks like you.” You heard him grunt as he pulled you down on his cock, “fucking whores that want to be filled.” You managed a strangled moan as he thrusted into you. “Is that right?”  

You didn’t respond, not like you could when he was strangling you and giving you the best cock you’ve had at the same time.

 “I asked a fucking question.” You heard him say and felt his grip loosen. You could moan freely now as his cock bullied into that spot that had you gasping. 

“Yes! Yes, I’m a f-fucking whore!” You slurred, dizzy with the perfect mix of pleasure and pain. 

“Oh shut up, slut.” He pulled his cock out of you, letting you fall to the ground like you were no more than an object. 

You couldn’t even be surprised, too cock drunk to do anything more than paw at him on your knees, “Please, I’ll be a good whore for you, I’ll let you fill me up—”

He chuckled, a low perfect sound. This time you couldn’t hide the whimper that resounded at the back of your throat in response. “Let me?” His gloved hands fisted his cock in a way that couldn’t have been comfortable, but he still spurted ropes of come that landed directly onto your face and chest. He pulled you towards him, shoving his fingers into your mouth so hard you nearly gag, “I’m gonna do whatever I fucking want to you, because you’re my kill. Mine to use before I end your useless life.” 

“Yes, yes, ’m sorry—” you gargled around his lips.

“Did I say you can fucking talk?” You quickly and frantically shook your head. “Get up and turn around.” 

You obliged quickly, standing on your shaky feet, nude as you could really feel the cold night air against your naked skin, goosebumps pebbled your trembling flesh, your chest heaving and nipples hard. You turned around, facing bark, shivering through the cold of the night as you awaited his orders. 

His hands grasped your ass and you gasped, “This is what you wanted, huh?” His fingers made their way through the holes in your leggings before effortlessly ripping them and your panties off. “Some sick fantasy that your whorish mind conjured up.” His hand was around your neck again, pushing your face into the tree until you couldn’t speak, then prying your legs apart to stuff his cock into you again. 

The different angle forced a moan from your throat, fuck, you could feel him practically in your stomach. If you pressed your lower stomach you felt there would be a bulge there, an imprint of his cock buried into you with no care for how deep it could actually go.  

 “Fuck, I hate freaks like you.” He grunted into your ear, hand tightening around your neck, as you weakly whimpered, “Everywhere I turn I run into worthless sluts like you.” 

If you weren’t struggling to breath and getting fucked like an animal you would have gave a snide response. Of course he had women trailing after him, you weren’t the only freak out there with a mask kink. It was a little annoying that your pussy wasn’t the only one he used and abused. 

But fuck, you couldn’t think about that now, his fingers found its way back into your mouth again as he fucked you, your eyes rolling back and lips sucking sloppily at them. There was this delicious sound of skin clashing as his hips roughly met yours each time he pushed his dick inside you and you wondered if there was anyone watching, if someone found themselves in the woods and could see you getting used like a slut by the town killer. 

“So fucking tight.” He ground out, “It’s a shame. I should keep you as my fucktoy, just come in all your holes whenever I need it.” You moaned louder at the suggestion, pressing back against his thrusts, “but killing you will be so much more pleasant.” 

“Mmn-ffuck, y-yes, yes, please use me.” You couldn’t help the words leaving your lips as your skin scraped against the bark, sensitive nipples stimulated with each thrust and his fingers still in your mouth, pulling you apart. 

“Oh shut it.” He punctuates his words with a slap on your ass and you nearly bite his fingers. 

“Sorry, s-sorry, ‘m sorry.” You fight a smile around his fingers as he lays another slap at your ass. “So good, so goodd.” You slur and another follows it, your ass stinging. “‘M sorry—I c-can’t.” You absolutely can. 

“You’re doing it on purpose aren’t you?” He grabs your stinging cheek and squeezes, “There’s nothing you’re not into is there, you fucking slut?” 

You can’t answer because you’re about to come, your thighs quiver, pussy clenching around his cock as you fuck yourself back on it, rutting into it again and again until you come on him with a barely there whine. He follows you soon after, emptying his balls into you until the warm cum spills out of you and drips down your thighs. 

He slips his hand between them, gloved fingers pushing the come back inside as you whine from the overstimulation. “Keep it inside, you wanted it, right? Now it’s gonna be the last thing you fucking feel.” 

He’s left you once again, and you’re on the ground, naked and spent. Stuffed full of come and trembling. 

You never heard him drop the knife, nor did you hear him pick it up. But it was in his grasp as he loomed over you, mask still on his face, still setting your pussy aflame. 

 “P-Please, not yet!” You begged, latching yourself to his thigh as you rutted yourself against him. He scoffed as he watched you, your plump lips wobbly, eyes wet and pleading up at him cloudy with lust. “I can do it again, stuff me full, please.” You begged, grinding your soaked pussy against his leg until you came, squirting your juices all over him and the ground below.  

“What a fucking animal.” He scoffed, kneeling down to you, “It almost makes me feel bad for wanting to kill you.” He murmured, fingers almost delicately clutching your sweat and come soaked face, thumbing at your numb lips. At this point you were practically seeing two. 

“Maybe I’ll keep you.”, he cocked his head, before reaching for his face and pulling off his mask. You’re so delirious you can barely acknowledge it, can barely take it the handsome edges of his face, the tattoos perfectly scrawled across his skin and his red eyes staring almost endearingly down at you. There’s a slight smirk on his pink lips and you’re blinking into unconsciousness before hearing his last words. 

“You’re my kill after all.”

[pit-and-the-pen]

I'll Crawl Home to Her- Chapter 3

A tiny bit of a shorter update here y'all. I promise there's a ton in the next chapter that I have planned but I just wanted to get this part out.

warnings: Drinking, slightly suggestive actions/thoughts

WC: 9.3k

Previous chapters: [prologue] [chapter 1] [chapter 2]

Feyre didn't make it to the prison that next day. Her and Rhys had not been gone for an hour before Rhys was winnowing her back into the living room. Feyre was as pale as a ghost and shaking like a leaf. The concern that laced Rhys’ face was enough to stop me from asking how it went, was enough to stop everyone in the room from asking. Feyre didn’t stay to talk, turning on her heel and stalking towards her room. 

I watched as she ascended the stairs, taking note of the stiffness of her shoulders. 

“She saw it was underground and couldn’t do it.” Was the only explanation I was given. I nodded, fully understanding. A variable none of us had even thought to consider, the prison was scary enough on its own. But add fifty feet of rock above your head, after that damned mountain, I Feyre didn’t come out of her room again that day. 

The next morning, I once again found myself outside her door too scared to knock. Too scared of her rejecting my company to bring her any semblance of comfort. It was the cowards move and I hated that I couldn’t bring myself to check on her. The tiny sniffles I could hear through the heavy wooden door let me know the full extent of the effect that place had on her. 

I sensed someone standing behind me and almost jumped when I saw Armen beside me. The two of us had a lukewarm relationship at best. She respected me only as much as was polite, I was her high lord's sister after all. But that’s where that relationship started and ended. I respected her as part of my brother's court, and quite frankly, I was terrified of her. 

“If you won’t then I will.” She said in a bored tone. “I know you heard her last night too.” I had. Feyre vomiting her guts out, screaming from nightmares, then more vomiting. It was something I was all too familiar with. The things that creep into our sleep, images from that vile place where she had lost her humanity. Amren simply rolled her eyes and strolled into the room, leaving me flustered at the doorway. I didn’t stay around to listen to their conversation. Instead I went down to the kitchen, finding my hands suddenly far too empty. 

In a matter of minutes I had pulled out all the ingredients to make breakfast. Grabbing a whisk to start mixing, I sensed someone else in the room. I looked up and was met with the eyes of my brother. A slightly worried look in his eyes, he knew I only cooked when something was on my mind. I just shrugged my shoulders at him, dismissing the concern. He didn’t say anything as he sat at one of the stools in the kitchen. Both of us content to sit in the other’s silence. Cassian came in only for me to shoo him out when he kept picking at the food as I made it. The action made the three of us howl with laughter. 

The next day, Feyre seemed to be in better spirits. I noticed her hand tracing over the necklace Amren had given her yesterday. Some random glittery trinket Rhys had gifted her one year for Solstice. I don’t know what the ancient fae had told her to make Feyre clutch it like it was a life line. Rhys eyed Amren who just waved him off with her usual casual coolness. 

“Ready then?” He asked Feyre. She gulped but nodded. And like that they were off. 

That’s when the waiting began. Everyone sat with perfect Fae stillness as we waited for Rhys and Feyre to return. All holding a collective breath for that information that could save us all. At some point I had lit a fire just to have something to do with my hands. The book that I had been trying to read all morning lay untouched by my feet. Mor was lounging next to Cassian. Azriel was brooding at the window, his wings twitching slightly at the tension in the room. Shadows a nervous flurry at his feet. Amren has slinked off the moment Rhys had winnowed away. 

I nearly jumped out of my skin when a crack cut through the silence in the room. The familiar smell of the prison lingered on Feyre and Rhys as they appeared in the living room. I couldn’t help the careful eye I ran over the both of them, assessing for any damage. A sigh of relief left me when I couldn’t find any. 

“How’d it go?” Mor finally broke the silence, trying and failing to keep her voice casual. Feyre was already splayed out in an armchair closest to the hearth. She stretched, rubbing at her arms, like she couldn’t get warm enough.  Rhys went to pick at a piece of invisible lint on his leathers. I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

“The bone carver is nothing more than a busybody.” He simply said. We all looked for him for a scrap of more information. 

“And?” I snapped. 

“And, he can be helpful when he wants to be. It seems we need to do what we do best.” His violet eyes shone with a flicker of mischief at his words. “Hybern has the Cauldron.” I couldn't contain the gasp that tumbled out of me. For the first time since my brother had left, Azriel moved. Perching on the arm of the couch I was sitting on. 

“What does that mean for us?” Azriel asked sharply. 

“It means that we finally know the cause behind all the destruction as of late.” Rhys ran a hand through his hair, eyes flickering to Feyre who looked like she was about to pass out from exhaustion. “But it also means that we are severely overpowered.” 

“Did you learn how to stop it?” 

“The Carver mentioned two books that could nullify it, that Feyre could use to nullify it.”

“Those books haven’t been seen in centuries, Rhys.” I interjected. He nodded, hands again running over his hair. 

“The location was one thing that the Carver was nice enough to gift us.” I shuddered at the tone of his voice. I didn’t want to think of what he or Feyre had to offer for that bit of information. 

“One piece rests in Summer and the other with the human Queens.” Rhys continued. 

“I’ll reach out to my sources in Summer to see if I can track down the exact location. I can also personally visit the human lands and see what I can find on the other piece.” Azriel started immediately. Ever the busy spymaster. 

“No. I don’t trust this information with anyone outside of this room, save for Armen. Not before we know who will actually stand besides us. If that book were to get into the wrong hands, we might as well surender right now.” Azriel tensed at my brother's words. I placed a gentle hand over his knee. A casual gesture that had him relaxing his shoulders ever so slightly. He gave Rhys a small nod of agreement. 

“What does that mean for us?” Mor spoke out. 

“As far as I’m concerned, Hybern has already declared war. That was our temple he sacked last to get a missing piece of the cauldron.”

“We need to find a way to get to the cauldron then.” My words gained a nod from Rhys. “It will likely be heavily warded, more than you could even break through Rhys. And then there’s the issue of even finding it. Hybern’s land is incredibly large and there's no guarantee he wouldn’t stash it somewhere else in Prythian.” 

“We think that since the pieces are spelled by individual High Lords, their power can find it. Besides actually wielding the book, it seems like we might have our very own key to finding those pieces.” Four pairs of eyes all turned in sync to Feyre. She cringed when she met our eyes. 

“We don’t know that for sure…” She started. 

“But it would make sense. You contain a kernel of all of their powers. I saw it get transferred to you. There’s no reason you shouldn’t be able to find them.” 

“And there’s a way to test it.” Rhys said with a wicked grin. “It will require us going on a little trip, to see if you can find a very important thing that I have been missing for a very long time.” 

“Rhys..” I started but Mor’s echoing “shit.” cut me off.

“Where?” Feyre said, voice trembling. 

“The Weaver.” I spoke at the same time as Azriel. 

“You can’t be serious…” I started, voice rising at the sheer audacity of my brother. 

“The test will be to see if Feyre can detect something that has my magic on it. If she can find that then I am confident it’ll work with other objects.” I had half a mind to slap that dignified look off of my brother's face. Feyre might not know what exact object was at the Weavers cottage but the rest of us did. 

I sunk in on myself. Mind drifting far away, tuning out the rest of their conversation. 

I felt a prod at my mental walls. You’re unhappy. Rhys spoke into my head. 

You’re playing games. I responded. It’s necessary and this way I know she’ll be safe. You think I would ever put her at serious risk? I shook my head, pushing him out of my mind. He winced at the force behind the action. I couldn’t find it in myself to care. I picked at my nails until Rhys' voice pulled me out of whatever was stewing in my brain.

“Emissary. Emissary to the Night Court- for the human realm.” The sound that left me was a mix between a gasp and a scoff. I ripped my hand off of its place on Azriel’s knee. Simply unable to put up with my brother's game at the moment. Azriel mumbled out my name as I stood up, walking out of the room. I shot Feyre a sympathetic look to let her know my leaving had nothing to do with her. She didn’t even glance my way, eyes flickering instead between Rhys and Azriel, who were now arguing in full force. 

When I reached my room, I could already feel the edges of a headache creeping over my vision. My hand came up to rub at my temples. I didn’t hear anything from anyone the rest of the day, the only sign I had even received that the arguing had stopped was Rhys popping his head into my room to tell me we were leaving early in the morning. I merely gave him a vulgar gesture with my finger before he slammed the door on his way out. Grabbing a pillow from the edge of my bed, I held it up to my head and let out a loud scream. 

This was all too much. Prythian had barely survived one war. And that was when the entirety of it was fighting together and my stupid, oversure brother thought that we could win it before it even started. Throwing the pillow across the room in frustration, I flopped onto the bed. Mind already starting to race with the possibilities and outcomes. All the wrong moves that could see everyone in my family dead in a matter of minutes. We were playing a dangerous game and I didn’t like how carelessly Rhys was thinking about things. A small part knew Rhys would never let Feyre be involved if he thought we stood no chance, so he must have a better plan than the ones I was coming up with. I hoped. 

The morning came far too quickly. I feel like I had just fallen asleep when a shadow had crept into my bed, whispering nonsense into my ear to make me up. They ignored my swats in protests. I groaned, pulling myself up into a sitting position. “Busybodies.” I muttered as the shadow creeped back out of my room, most likely letting Azriel and Rhys know I was awake. 

I dressed slowly, pulling on each layer of clothing with a practiced sort of focus. Hands nimbly fastening the many buckles of my fighting leathers, like I had done a million times before. I reached for the daggers that Cassian and Azriel had gifted me, one from each of them. Their handles encrusted with gems that matched their siphons. The third I slipped in had gems that matched the first diadem I had been gifted from my mother. I tried not to think about all of their significance as I strapped them to the holster on my thigh. I tied my hair up in an updo, one that required as little pins as possible to keep it out of my face. And I went to find my brother. 

It wasn’t hard to figure out why Rhys wanted me to accompany them. Having both of us there would be an extra layer of protection in case this all went to shit. The little bit of my power that had returned combined with Rhys’ would be more than enough to stop the Weaver. I couldn’t fully dampen a room but I had successfully snuffed out a candle or faelight more than a handful of times. Darkness did nothing if you were already blind, but the Weaver relied on scent and hearing. Both of which I had been successful in cutting off from Rhys. Not a hint of my full power but enough to give Feyre time to run if need be.

Once we winnowed into that ancient woods, I had started walking towards the cottage. Having no interest in listening to the distraction my brother had warned me he would be giving Feyre. I tried not to vomit as I listened to his shameless flirting. 

Eventually the trees had thinned out. All rustles of surrounding animals faded into nothing. I held up my hand singling to Rhys and feyre to stop moving. Feyre’s breath caught behind me. The cottage was just in view. The smoke from the chimney is still lingering in the air like a blanket. Rhys gave Feyre a dramatic flourish and bowed, letting her move on her own. She flipped him off which brought a smile to my face. 

I held my breath as I watched her walk into the front door, flinching when it closed behind her. Like an invisible hand had pushed it shut. My head whipped to Rhys and I saw that he had not planned for that. When I went to take a step forward, he stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. I threw it off but stayed put. No interference. Those were the rules. He said in my mind. 

So we sat and waited. “It’s taking too long, Rhys she can’t find it.” He shook his head. 

“No she has to.” 

“Not right this minute, it’s not like…” A blood curdling scream cut off my words. My dagger was in my hand faster than I could think. Body tensed for whatever had caused that scream. Some part of me knew it wasn’t Feyre. No, I had become all too familiar with the sound of her screams under the mountain. 

Faster than a streak of light, Feyre was bounding across the roof. At the same time the front door of the cottage flung open, The Weaver screaming for Feyre. Rhys and I shot each other a look before we were running after Feyre. Chasing her through the tree branches that she was running over. Rhys was able to climb up and perched on the end of one of the branches she would find herself in front of any second. 

“What the hell did you do?” He said coolly. Feyre skidded to a stop. Blood rose to her cheeks and I saw the pure fury in her eyes as she hissed at him. He cut her off before he wrapped an arm around both of us, winnowing the both of us back to Velaris.

I was able to winnow enough to get me on the balcony of the house of wind, I landed just in time to see Rhys’ wings appear. When I opened the door, Cassian and Amren had my map sprawled out in front of them. Clearly in the middle of an argument. 

Feyre had barely stepped into the threshold of the house before she vomited on the floor. Cassian cursed and Armen had it cleaned up with a quick flick of her wrist. 

Feyre had explained what had happened in the cottage. Anger creeped through me as she explained. I shot Rhys a glare that said I told you so. 

“And where were you two?” Amren hissed at my brother and I. I felt shame creep up through the anger. 

“Far enough away to help if need be. But she got out.” Rhys answered evenly. Feyre yelled at him. 

“I’m training with you, if the offer still stands.” Feyre said, ignoring Rhys. “I want to have another option besides running.” 

“Running very well might have saved your life today.” I said in return. She gave me a nasty side eye. 

“I want to be useful if it ever comes down to a fight.” Was all she said and Cassian nodded. 

After that, she seemed to remember something and she all but threw the ring at Rhys, who scrambled to catch it before it fell to the ground. Even I flinched towards it. The motion wasn’t lost of feyre and she raised an eyebrow at me in question. 

“How’d you lose it anyways?” 

“I didn’t. My mother gave it to me, then took it back when I reached maturity and then gave it to the Weaver for safekeeping.” I rolled my eyes at his half truth. She looked like she was about to lay into him before Rhys was grabbing her hand and left out the window. Probably getting them far enough to winnow back to the townhouse. I didn’t follow after them. 

Cassian let loose a heavy sigh and I nodded along. 

“He’s got it bad.” 

“Tell me about it.” 

“So your mothers ring…” 

“I don’t want to talk about it, Cassian.” I waved him off. Grabbing a bottle of wine out of the cabinet before I walked towards one of the empty rooms in the house. 

“Training with me, tomorrow morning.” Cassian was not asking. And my only answer was the sound of the cork popping out of the bottle in my hand. 

Cassian stuck to his words. He dragged me out of bed at sunrise despite my protests. He was having absolutely none of it. 

“Feyre’s coming and I want you to be there.” Bastard. He was playing dirty and knew it would work. He smirked as I pushed him out of the room so I could get changed. 

Feyre joined us a little after we had gotten warmed up. 

“I want you to watch for a little bit. Before we get into the basics.” Feyre made a discontent noise. “I can’t just throw you into the ring with one of us without having some foundation. Sure you can use a bow, but in hand to hand, you wouldn’t last a second.” Blunt. But true. Feyre’s face showed that she knew this. So she hung back as Cassian and Azriel squared off to each other. 

It was nearly impossible to follow their movements. They eventually slowed down enough to follow. To track the perfectly timed punches and dips. Cassian and Azriel fought with an easy grace. The sign of centuries of practice. My eyes tracked every roll of muscle, Azriel being shirtless didn’t help my gawking. Eventually they broke apart and I had to remind myself how to close my jaw. Unaware of the way it had parted slightly. Even Feyre looked overly interested. 

“Alright. Now, time for princess to get in here.” I groaned and he shot me a withering glare. “She’ll be the best example for you to follow Feyre. Just polished enough to not get hurt and do some damage along the way.” 

“Thank you for the glowing compliment Cassian.” He just smiled at me, gesturing for me to get in front of him. I pushed myself off the rock I was leaning against. I gave Feyre an overly sweet smile that had pulled a small laugh out of her. 

Cassian didn’t waste a second once I found my footing. He was relentless. Throwing powerful punch after powerful punch. I willed myself to follow his movements, trying my best to predict them. His movements far too fast for my mind to keep up with. So I took a deep breath and pulled from that same spot I had been practicing with Rhys. Cassian cursed loudly and I know it worked. The thin black mist that reached out to him even further proof. He stumbled slightly as I took his sight. It was just for long enough that I was able to grab his fist as he swung blindly. I used my hold and his unstable feet to flip over him. I had his arm pressed against his back. The perfect angel that with a simple twist would break his arm. He shouted at me and I pulled back my powers, granting him his sight back. 

“Not fair.” He panted out as I pushed him out of my hold. He caught himself with a fighter's grace, pulling himself onto his feet in one fluid motion. 

“Oh suck it up you baby.” I said with a laugh at his outraged expression.

“You never told us you got your powers back.” Azriel spoke from the sidelines. I shrugged as if to say it was no big deal. And truly it wasn’t. I could already feel the toll that little bit had taken on me. 

“Fine, you want to play that way…” Cassian started. “Azriel.” He finished. My head whipped to look at Cassian who was wearing a shit eating grin. I looked back to Azriel who just raised a challenging eyebrow at me. Never one to back down so easily, I gave him an exhausted wave of my hand. Singling him closer. We stood across from each other. Sizing each other up. Azriel and I haven't ever really sparred like this. Not hand to hand. Since we both favored daggers, it was always with weapons. I don’t even know if I could hit him. But I tried not to let that show on my face as I made the first move. He easily stepped out of the way, dodging my lunge at him. I whipped around and went to sweep his leg but he managed to dodge it again. A small smirk on his face as I looked up at him. My eyebrows set in a determined line and I forced myself to swing for his stomach. He grabbed my arm with ease, pushing it to the side and making me wobble trying to regain my footing. 

“Stop dancing and actually fight.” 

Cassian’s words had his head snap to him for just a second. But it was all the time I needed to flip him onto his back. His hands instantly grabbed on my hips as we fell to the ground. I heard the breath whoosh out from him, mostly in surprise as he stared up at me. Hazel eyes gleaming with something I didn’t want to think about. We just sat looking at each other before I leaned down and whispered in his ear. 

“I think I like having you on your back. I should do it more often.” With a graceful swing of my legs, I suddenly was standing above him. He seemed to still be in shock and I nearly doubled over laughing. Rolling my eyes , I offered him a hand to stand up. He could have gotten up by himself. But I wanted to touch his skin, feel the warmth of his body again. My hips still felt the ghost of his touch like he had burned his touch into the skin underneath. He took my hand and instead of pulling himself up, he pulled me down. I yelped in surprise as he quickly flipped me over. Hovering over me, his arms caged around me so no parts of him were touching me. A far more restrained move than me straddling his hips just  a few moments ago. I went to shove his chest and he caught my arm, pinning it above my head. All of my focus zeroed on that exact spot, his hand on my wrist. It took every bit of restraint I had to bite back the whimper building in my throat at the action. I shifted under him, trying to wiggle out of his grasp and that only made him grab my wrist tighter. 

“What are you going to do now princess?” He rasped near my ear. Mirroring my early actions of leaning down close to me. That stupid nickname, the way it dripped off of his lips had my whole body heating up. It was too much. I could only suck in heavy breaths of his scent and it lit my whole body on fire. I ignored the urge to wrap my leg around his back and pull him against me. Instead I pulled my leg up and used my knee to push him off of me. Probably a little harder than necessary. He clearly wasn’t expecting it as he fell back, hands resting on either side of him. We both sat, chests rising and falling with heavy breaths, unable to look away from each other. I said nothing as I stood up, brushing the dirt off of my pants and walked over to where Cassian was standing. I might have added a little extra sway to my hips. 

“Close your mouth, you’ll let flies in.” I all but growled lowly to Cassian as I approached his side. 

“So we’re just going to ignore whatever that was?” Cassian said, his eyebrow raised at me. I wanted to ignore him too.

“We’re absolutely going to” I absolutely would not. But I wasn’t about to talk about it with Cassian of all people. As it was he was probably never going to let me live it down. I tried my hardest not to think about what Azriel had felt like underneath me. How his hands seemed so sure as they gripped my hips. The small quiet grunt that left his lips from his back hitting the ground. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to think about his gravelly voice in my ear. No, I would absolutely not think about Azriel for the rest of the day. 

I passed Feyre from her position on the outside of the training ring. She raised an eyebrow at me before falling into step next to me. “If training always looks like that, I might have joined you all earlier.” She playfully hit my shoulder with her own and I fought the urge to groan. The action was so similar to Rhy that it was almost funny. They were absolutely perfect for each other, if he would only ever tell her they were mates. “So you and Azriel…” Now it was my turn to raise my eyebrow at her. She gave me a dramatic roll of her eyes, “How long have two been together.” My legs froze. When her words had fully sunk in, I started roaring with laughter. I doubled over and rested my hands on my knees. I was finally able to compose myself, I stood up and wiped the stray tear from my eye. 

“I was serious.” She said, a confused look on her face. 

“Sizing up the competition are we?” I said to her,

“Dodging the question, are we?” Her smile only grew as mine faded. “So not together then, I just thought…” I raised my hand to stop her, unable to hear anymore. 

“He’s my brother’s best friend, his brother.” Was all I offered her. She looked like she wanted to press the issue but thought better of it. I left out a small sigh of relief as we walked back up to the house. 

Somewhere in the day, after  I cleaned away the sweat and grime from training, Mor came into my room. “We’re going to Rita’s tonight, if you want to come along?” Her eyes shone with mischief and I knew even if I didn’t want to, I would be going.

Mor didn’t even bother knocking as she came back with an arm full of dresses for me to try on. I had no shortage in my own closet but who was I to deny her the opportunity to play dress up. 

She held up the first one for me to see, a striking red color that looked like it would show more than it covered. I laughed at the idea. “That’s far more your color than it is mine.” She beamed a smile at me and put it in a separate pile. Dress after dress was pulled out and presented to me, each one more and more revealing. I groaned inwardly at the scrap of a black dress she held up for me. I shook my head.

“Maybe I should just stay home.” I sighed. She gave me a dramatic pout.

“You haven’t seen the last one yet.” She held it out and I knew that was the one she had been saving. 

It wasn’t exactly his shade of blue, and that made it even more perfect. Far enough off that it could be written off as a coincidence. The look Mor gave me told me she had that very thought when she picked it out. A deep scoop for the neck line, held together by a silver ring, a similar cut out right below it. It looked like it would stop about mid-thigh. Mor threw the dress into my arms and pushed me into the bathroom. 

“We don’t have all day so get your cute ass in the dress.” She said as the door closed and I laughed loud enough for her to hear it through the wood. I stripped off my pajamas and realized the dress would not allow for any type of bra, so I took that off too. Wiggling slightly to get it over my thighs, I smoothed the dress down. It was nothing super out of the ordinary from what I’ve worn to Rita’s in the past but I suddenly felt very shy looking at myself in the mirror. The dress hugged my curves in all the right places and had enough support in the bust that it made up for the lack of a bra. I took a deep breath, steeling my nerves to walk out and show Mor. 

When I walked out she gave a dramatic whistle. “That’s the one for sure. No one will be able to look away.” She raised her eyebrows at the suggestive comment and I felt heat rise in my cheeks. Both of us knew I only cared about one specific male's attention. One that would hardly give me a second glance. 

She started on my makeup next, lining my eyes heavily with kohl. Blush wasn’t needed in this case, the sheer amount of alcohol we’d be consuming would do that for me. She swiped a red tinted gloss over my lips and turned me to face the mirror again. The black made the purple in my eyes pop, even I was unable to look away from my reflection. The gloss doing its job of making my lips look plump in a way that bordered on seduction. “You have outdone yourself” I complimented Mor and it was her turn for her cheeks to ting red. She shrugged off the compliment. 

“I trust you to do your own hair. I’m going to get ready. We’re leaving in less than an hour, so be quick.” She snatched the discarded dresses off their spot on my bed and strolled out of the room. 

I decided to leave my hair simple. The dress was enough of a statement on its own. My hair was still slightly curly from my bath earlier so I just left it down, twisting and pinning one side of it against my head. I pulled out some longer bits for the front and that was that. Giving myself a quick once over in the mirror, I started heading downstairs to meet the rest of my family. 

It was late enough that Feyre had already gone to her bedroom for the night. But I was surprised to see my brother dressed and waiting, impatiently, for Mor and I. I walked down the stairs and three pairs of eyes turned to me at the sound of my heels clicking against the floor. My eyes found Rhys first, slightly disapproval at my outfit but he’d get over it. I rolled my eyes at him and then caught Azriel’s gaze. 

I tried to ignore the way his eyes roved greedily over my figure. Blocked out the blush that rose all the way to my ears. His mouth was slightly open like he was going to say something but Cassian cut him off. 

“You clean up nice, princess.” Another roll of my eyes. 

“Who knew you knew how to put a shirt on Cas.” I teased back. I couldn’t find the courage to look over to Azriel again, scared of whatever look he was giving me. A look you certainly don’t give to friends or family. When I finally did glance over his way, I noticed his eyes were still on me, following my every shift with an intense look, like a hunter following prey. 

“Let’s go, we’re burning moonlight.” Mor said, breaking whatever tension was in the room. She all but ran down the steps until she was on even ground. She wrapped her arm around mine and pulled me to the door, the males following behind us. 

We laughed and pointed out things on our walk over to Rita’s. Mor and I walked a few steps ahead the entire time. The handful of times I risked a glance backwards, I noticed Azriel making a point to look anywhere but me. Which only brought more laughter from me. 

Rita’s wasn’t super packed tonight, but the music could be heard from outside of the bar. The five of us strolled in the doors and I could already feel the music in my chest. A sultry rhythm that had me longing to pull Mor to the dance floor. But we first headed to the bar, ordering the strongest drinks that they had to offer. I winced slightly as I took my first sip. 

No sooner than that sip did I do exactly that, pulling Mor by her hand into the crowd of bodies. I was slightly out of practice but I just let my body feel the music. Head tipped back with laughter as Mor and I danced together. 

We only lasted a few songs before both of us needed new drinks. This time we stayed at the booth the others had picked out. Her and I slid into the seats. She rushed for the seat next to Cassian and Rhys, leaving me to sit next to Azriel. Fine, perfectly fine. I told myself as I sat down next to him. The booth was tight enough with three pairs of wings that our thighs were touching. My mind instantly flashing back to earlier in the day, the way my thighs had been slung over both of his hips. I squirmed in my seat and tried my best to focus on the conversation being had. 

“No word from summer yet?” Cassian asked between sips of his own drink. Rhys sighed before shaking his head. He emptied his own glass and Cassian was already pushing another one towards him. 

“Which means we will go to the humans tomorrow.” He kept his voice low, although it was unnecessary over the music. Cassian sucked his teeth but kept quiet. Mor stiffened ever so slightly before speaking up. 

“I’ll stay in Velaris.” Her tone left nothing to be argued with. We all turned to our drinks, a comfortable silence falling over us. More drinks were consumed. My chest felt very warm and I knew a dopey smile was stuck on my face. At some point Azriel’s hand had slipped onto my knee as the conversation flowed. 

“By the mother, she’s infuriating.” Rhys lamented into his glass, his response when Cassian asked how that relationship was going. “She has all of this power that I can sense, but she refuses to try to learn how to use it.” Cassian let out a roaring laugh. 

“She’s gotta be stubborn if she’s ever going to deal with you. Someone here has to be able to tell you no.” 

“ I would argue, you all keep me in check perfectly.” He laughed back. All of us joined in. 

Mor went to get the next round of drinks and I downed mine, probably too quickly. The room started to spin just a little and I laid my head against Azriel’s shoulder. His arm instantly wrapped around me. Shadows wrapping around the two of us.

“You okay?” He said slowly to me. I looked up at him and gave him a small drunken nod. The motion made a laugh rumble through him. “I think you’ve had enough. I’m cutting you off, princess.” I pouted at him, my bottom lip sticking out. I could only blink up at him as he raised his free hand to untuck my lip, a scared finger lingering on my face. I suddenly couldn’t hear anything else in the room. All of my focus zeroing in on that hand on my face. I swore he was leaning in more than a second ago, his face a lot closer to mine than it had been. Rhys cleared his throat loud enough to make me jump. Azriel’s shadows retreated back to his side. My cheeks heated up as I pulled my eyes away from Azriel’s face. I had completely forgotten the others, who were now giving Azriel and I confused looks. All except Mor who had a self satisfied grin on her face. 

We didn’t last much longer than that. All deciding that it was time to call it a night. We would need to be up in only a few hours to go to the human realm. 

During the walk home, Azriel wouldn’t so much as look at me. Letting Mor and I once again led the way, albeit on slightly more wobbly legs. By the time we got to the house, my shoes were in my hand, feet screaming at the height of the heels. We all quickly said goodnight and headed towards our rooms. Walking up the stairs, my foot caught the edge of one of them and I would have fallen face first into the marble if not for a warm hand that wrapped around my arm. Azriel was standing beside me, my arm held lightly. I could only gawk at him as he pulled me upright. 

“Maybe I should walk to your room so you don’t hurt yourself, or the house.” He spoke softly, a hint of a smile at the edge of his lips. I nodded, my tongue unable to find words. 

So he did exactly that. We reached my door and I turned to him to say good night but he was much closer than I anticipated. Our eyes locked and we both stood frozen, unable to look away from each other. Before I could think of something else to say, he reached out a gentle hand and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. His hand lingered on my face. I felt my breath catch in my throat, mouth parting to say something, anything. 

“Good night.” He spoke before I could. His hand dropped to his side and I tried not to pout as I echoed the words back to him. I stood outside my door and watched as he turned on his heel and walked down the hall to his own room.

I got dressed for bed in a daze. Nearly forgetting to wipe off the makeup on my face. I crawled into bed and let thoughts of the shadowslinger lull me to sleep. 

I felt funny wearing the clothes that Feyre had picked out for me. Everything felt itchy and heavy against my skin. Gone were the typical cobwebs from the night court attire. Instead, Feyre helped lace me into a corset that she informed me I’m supposed to wear underneath my clothing. We compromised on a long sleeve shirt that had sheer sleeves but went up to my neck. It all felt very stuffy and Feyre laughed when I pointed that out to her.

“It’s supposed to be. Humans are a lot more…modest than high fae.” I couldn’t help but laugh at that. That was an understatement for sure. She helped me pin the simple linen skirt and tied up my hair in an intricate braid that rested on the top of my head. “There, you could pass perfectly for human, if it wasn’t for the ears.” She teased and I stuck my tongue out at her. Pulling my hair down in front of my ears. Thankfully, she turned her attention to Mor who was studying the clothes intensely. 

“No fighting in these clothes.” She muttered, low enough that I wonder if she even meant to say it out loud. 

“Women are expected to get married, have children and then plan the same for those children. Some might work, if they’re poorer.” Feyre explained. Mor nodded along to her words. 

“Fae are the same in some places. Feyre slipped behind the screen in her room to start changing her own clothes. 

“In the Court of Nightmares, females are…prized.” Mor’s voice had gone ice cold. My eyes drifted to her, remembering her own family. “We’re only valued for our ability to produce offspring. And being the most powerful in my family, everyone could see it, the day I first bleed it was over for me. I was hoping I could escape the same fate as the rest of my cousins, shackled into a loveless, and sometimes cruel, marriage. But when my power unleashed itself full force, I was suddenly the most sought after female in the court” She shuddered slightly. I tried to keep my face as those old memories resurfaced. 

“What about your parents?” Feyre asked from behind the screen. Voice shaking slightly. 

Mor gave out a cold, flat laugh. “They were beside themself. They could have a pick at any of the top ruling families. My pleas fell on deaf ears.” She took a steady breath. “The rest of the story is long and awful and this isn’t the time for it. But I say all of this to let you know I’m not coming with you.” I of course already knew this but I never gave much thought to the reasoning behind it. How the way humans treated females would open old wounds for Mor. Ways that she did everything in her power to avoid. 

I tried to busy myself with fixing the layers of my clothes as they talked, letting them have a little bit of privacy. 

“There are good days and hard days for me-even now. Don’t let the hard days win.” Mor said, giving Feyre a slight squeeze on the shoulder before she walked out of the room. 

With Mor and Amren staying behind to watch Velaris, that left the five of us, Cassian, Azriel, Rhys, Feyre and myself. I had already walked up to Azriel’s side before Feyre blurted out. “I’ll fly with Azriel.” I couldn’t keep my face neutral, even as Azriel simply bowed his head. I tried to stomp down the jealousy at the way his shadows wrapped around her when Azriel scooped up Feyre into his arms. Tried not to think of the way those very arms had been wrapped around me last night. Cassian was at my side giving me a wink he said, “Guess you’re stuck with me. Try not to look so disappointed.” 

“Elain.” Feyre’s voice broke around the name. The housekeeper had been giving her a hard time when the girl had appeared. The rest of us merely waited outside as Feyre walked through the doors of the manor. 

I held my breath as Feyre greeted us at the doors. She led us into a large room in the house and I couldn’t help but look around. In awe of the manor before me. The resemblance between the three sisters was uncanny. The slope of a nose, the curve of full lips. Wide eyes that followed every move the Illryians made. The tallest took a small step in front of the other timid girl when she spied the two winged males. I fought the urge to scoff and stepped closer. Feyre simply introduced all of us to each other. The other’s didn’t dare move. 

“Thank you for your hospitality.” Rhys said with a bow. The perfect example of a diplomatic high lord. Nesta’s welcome was less than ice cold. We followed her into the dining room and all took our seats. 

The males, per usual, began scarfing down the food. Where they put it all, I would never know. Feyre ate with a look that would lead you to believe she was eating glass. 

“Is there something wrong without food?” Nesta asked coldly. I fought the urge to shiver at her tone, the sheer discontent in those few words. “So you don’t eat normal food anymore- or are you too good for it?” Rhys and I put our forks down in sync. The way her voice dripped with challenge. How Nesta was related to Feyre, well if it wasn’t for their face, I would never have guessed it. 

“I can eat, drink, fuck and fight just a well as before. Better, even.” At her words, the room seemed to heat up ever so slightly. Feyre herself being the source. I felt my eyes go wide at the thought of what could happen. Tempers flaring from both sides of the room. 

“Can you really fly?” Elain asked Azriel. Trying to break the tension.

“Yes. We’re called Illyrians, a race of winged warriors.” 

“Is it not frightening to be up so high?” She all but batted her eyelashes at him. I might have put a little bit more behind my fork as I picked at the food in front of me. He kept an even tone as he answered all of her questions. I could quickly tell Nesta was losing her patience, however small it was to begin with. 

“If we’re all done eating then this meal is over.” She said as she walked out of the room. Leaving the rest of us reeling. 

“Three rooms was rather generous of her.” I joked with Feyre as we walked around the house.  

“If you want to go back, try to ask Nesta…”

“We’ll make it work.” I cut her off, I would never admit it outloud but there was something unnerving about Nesta. An intensity that set my teeth on edge. Plus, the clear disdain she holds for her sister ticked a certain nerve in me. How someone could be so callous towards a sibling that had sacrificed so much for them, I couldn’t imagine. 

“She tends to have that effect on people.” Feyre said with a private laugh. I really did try to keep my tone neutral 

“She seems very…” I didn’t have a kind word to say. My anger at the female clouded over anything else I could say about her.  Feyre just nodded at me. 

We both went to our separate rooms for the night. And I had just fallen asleep when a knock at the door woke me up. I was surprised to see Azriel at my door, expecting Rhys or maybe Feyre. “Cassian snores. Really loudly.” Azriel said in a softer tone that I knew he could use. I covered my mouth to hide the laugh that escaped me. He smiled my favorite lopsided smile at me and I opened the door to let him in. 

This wasn’t out of the ordinary. Azriel and I had shared a bed many times, and had fallen asleep on each other even more times. I still remember me begging him to stay when my screaming had woken him up. But for some reason, the heat of his body behind me felt very different this time. We weren’t touching, not even his wings brushed up against me. His shadows curled around the edge of the bed like a sleeping dog. He might have well been right on top of me for how much I could sense his presence. I turned over onto my side, pulling my side of the blanket tighter around myself and tried to even my breathing with his. I tossed and turned for what felt like hours, unable to escape his smell as it wrapped around me. It only added to the overwhelming feeling of him. I squeezed my eyes tighter, pleading with myself to ignore him. To act like nothing had changed in my feelings for him. That my simple crush was crumbling out of my control into something more. Something I did not want to think about with him merely feet away from me. 

I woke up warm. So warm that I burrowed myself back into the source of the warmth. Eyes shut, I basked in the feeling with a small content noise leaving my throat. The slight shift under me had my eyes flying open. Remembering exactly what had happened last night. Squinting the morning light out of my eyes, I took note of the arm wrapped around my waist. The way I was pulled tight against Azriel’s chest. My whole body flushed suddenly his body heat threatened to smother me. I tried to subtly slip out of his hold, but the motion only made his arm tighten around me more. I was pressed tight enough around him that I could feel every plane of his chest, every bit of muscle pressed up against me. I closed my eyes and said a prayer to whatever god would get me out of this situation. I struggled a little bit more, I felt my backside make contact with his hips. My actions caused a groan to echo in his chest, the noise making me freeze completely, scared to even breathe wrong. 

I waited for a few moments before I continued my actions, being extremely careful of where exactly I was putting my weight. I let out a heavy breath when I managed to wiggle out of his hold. Azriel only rolled over and grabbed the pillow I had been half resting on. A smile snuck onto my face at the action. His shadows, up until then ignored, circled around my arm and that only seemed to make him stir more. He groaned again, moving over onto his back.

 My eyes landed on his face and I nearly jumped out of the bed when I heard him rasp, “You’re staring princess.” I was thankful that his eyes were still closed as I felt the blood rush to my cheeks. Moving ever so slowly, I reached for one of the discarded pillows by the foot of the bed. His hand had already come up to stop it before I could toss it at his head. 

“Now that wasn’t very nice.” His morning voice finally hit me, Azriel’s voice had always been on the lower side but laced with sleep, it bordered on sinful. The slight huskiness to it had me scrambling out of the bed, all but running to the bathroom. His light laughter hit my ears as the door closed. My head landed against the wooden door, running my hands over my face. I decided a cold bath would be in my best interest. 

My mind kept wandering to the male outside the door as I peeled off my night clothes, thankfully Feyre had convinced me to bring longer, sturdier nightwear than I normally would have worn or else I think I would have lost my everloving mind last night. That groan running through my mind again had me all but diving into the bathtub. 

I sat in the bath like a coward until I heard the door open and shut. I waited a few more moments before I finally pulled myself. I wrapped a towel around myself and walked timidly out of the bathing room, peaking out first to make sure it was all clear. Luckily, it was empty. A stupid twinge of disappointment runs through me and I push it aside. There were bigger issues for today. 

I was thoroughly impressed with the progress Feyre had made. She had been able to light, drown and relight the candle a handful of times. My job was really only to stand as a buffer between her and Rhys. Be able to control the situation if she lost too much control of her powers. 

“Maybe you should go.” 

“Why?

“I can’t concentrate when you’re breathing down my neck.” She snapped at him. Before this could get any more flirty, I tugged on my brother's arm. Leaving the candle with her. 

“Why do you insist on godding her like that?” I asked when we had gotten some distance. 

“Because it’s fun.” I shot him a glare, “Alright, because it gets her out of her own head. It works. Plus I won’t deny it’s fun.” 

“There he is.” I mutter. An hour or so had passed and I saw Rhys gathering a small bundle of food and a piece of paper to send along to Feyre. He hastily scribbled something on it but I didn’t care to read it. Barely a moment passed before the paper returned. Back and forth it went until it remained with her.A second passed, then another. My stomach sank. Rhys was already grabbing my arm to winnow us back to that clearing. 

Nothing could prepare me for the sight in front of us. Feyre held by the neck by an Attor. Neither of us hesitated. It was as simple as breathing, blinding the Attor. It howled in rage as Rhys’ power exploded out of him. Feyre kicked her way out of its arms and I was instantly at her side. Crouching to pick her off the snow covered ground. The Atorr was bound in tendrils of inky-darkness. 

“I was wondering when we would see your ugly face again. Answer my question and you can go back to your master.” Rhys all but purred. 

“Whore.” Was all the answer he received. I reached out to my powers again, the Atorrs scream echoed through the clearing as he lost both his sight and hearing. Rhys nodded his head and I let it fade back into me. Breathing heavily, I knew I didn’t have another time in me. 

“I was sent to get her.” the Attor paused. “I don’t know why.” Words did not stop spilling from the Attors mouth. A small satisfied smirk graced my face as I felt Azriel and Cassian land beside me. 

“Next time you go after her, I’ll kill first and ask questions later.” Rhys said before Azriel and the Attor vanished. I shuddered at the knowledge of what was to come. How when I found Azriel later, he would be cleaning truth-teller until the blade gleamed again. 

Cassian grabbed my hand and scooped me up in his arms. The distant shouting of Rhys and Feyre was enough to make him laugh. “Let’s leave them to kill each other in peace.”

“Who do you think would win?” 

“My money’s on Feyre.” I laughed as he took off, flying us back to Velaris.

Taglist:@nickishadow139 @tothestarsandwhateverend @quinzzelx @durgenyx @i-am-infinite @mariahoedt @acourtofbatboydreams

I think that was everyone that asked to be tagged, as always let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

[taintedsoul-if]

Dangerous Games: Kindred Spirits

You're Shamrock #1 bestselling author. Witnessing the murder of a drug Lord king son has placed your life in jeopardy. A day before you were tossed into witness protection you received a call from your father's trusted lawyer who relayed the news that your father was gunned down by unknown assailants. Without a choice you were forced to move back home to Austin Lake, the place you swore you would never return to.

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🔞 This story is romance based. Mature audience only. 🔞

Romance 1 of 2 ROS

Play as a man, woman or non-binary

Be thrown in a life of chaos - changing diapers, having sleepless nights all the while trying to stay hidden and worst of all trying to meet your deadline.

Can two broken souls really find love again?

Romanceable Options

Massimo Salvatore (Male)

Age: Unknown

Job: Unknown

Origins: Unknown (Recently moved next door to you.)

Appearance:

He stood tall, at least 180cm, with a commanding presence that was hard to ignore. His shoulder-length hair was a rich, dark chestnut, thick and lustrous, framing his chiseled features like a velvet curtain. His eyes were as dark as midnight, seemingly bottomless. While they may have been ordinary in shape, there was something hypnotic about them.

Prominent cheekbones and a sharp jawline gave him a dangerous, yet approachable look, like a wild animal that might just purr in your lap. His lips, a perfect rosebud red, curved slightly in a smug smile, as if he knew a secret joke that no one else did.

But what truly set him apart was his skin - translucent, flawless, and utterly divine. Not a single blemish, freckle, or imperfection marred its creamy expanse, making him an Adonis among men. And that beauty spot under his left eye? The perfect finishing touch, like a tiny signature on a masterpiece.

Calanthal/Calendre Rowanelle (Gender selectable)

Nickname: Calla/Calen

Age: 26

Job: Waitress and Pole Performer

Origin: Austin Lake

Relationship: Ex-lover

Female appearance:

Her golden-brown skin was a masterpiece of perfection, without a single blemish or imperfection to be found. Her eyes were like sapphires, shimmering with a deep blue profundity that seemed to see right through to the soul. Her cheeks were like ripe plums, flushed with a subtle hint of red that added to her allure. And her lips... oh, her lips were a true work of art. Red, luscious, and bewitching, they seemed to beckon all who gazed upon them.

Standing at least 160cm tall, her hourglass figure was a sight to behold, a true masterpiece of curves and contours. She was a goddess, a true vision of beauty, and yet... she seemed utterly oblivious to the impact she had on those around her. She moved with a grace and innocence that was both captivating and heartbreaking, leaving a trail of mesmerized admirers in her wake.

Male Appearance:

His golden-brown skin was a masterpiece of perfection, without a single blemish or imperfection to be found. His eyes were like sapphires, shimmering with a deep blue profundity that seemed to pierce right through to the soul. His cheekbones were chiseled, with a subtle hint of red that added to his rugged allure. And his lips... oh, his lips were a true work of art. Full, luscious, and inviting, they seemed to beckon all who gazed upon them.

Standing at least 180cm tall, his athletic build was a sight to behold, a true masterpiece of muscle and contour. He was a god, a true vision of masculinity, and yet... he seemed utterly oblivious to the impact he had on those around him. He moved with a confident grace and a hint of mischief that was both captivating and heartbreaking, leaving a trail of mesmerized admirers in his wake.

Tags: explicit language. Violence. Explicit sex scenes. Flashback. Babies. Dirty diapers. Normal day to day life. Ex-boyfriends/girlfriends. Stalker. Blood-thirsty male character.

DEMO

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I know, I know. I haven't released my Tainted Soul update yet, but here I am, messing around. 🥹

[be-my-ally]

The Return Flight

Big Bunny #2

As always it's super late here, I will re-edit grammar etc tomorrow! enjoy!

Summary: It’s the next day and they’re off on their return flight. Elvis and Bunny get up to panicking and meditating, and then a couple hours of later one of the other bunnies joins them. Idk I just really can’t see elvis missing out on such a prime chance for a teeny lil bit of voyeuristic action. 

I truly tried to wiggle the wrist weights in but alas, not to be today - next time though, next time. 

Warnings: 18+, p in v penetrative sex, handjobs (v), oral (p and v), mentions of drug use, graphic description of a panic attack, f/f touching, elvis is kinda sweet in this one - except for the voyeurism + girl on girl action; TO CLARIFY - this is asked for by elvis + both parties consensually agree however, I am warning about very teeny tiny elements of internalised homophobia + the fact that reader implies she only does so (at least at first) to please elvis - she is not, however, reluctant nor unwilling.

wc: 11.4k

FYI: I’ve updated my bio to say I’m pausing requests - just until I get my inbox cleared down + posted! xx Also!!! I’ve had a couple of requests for a taglist - so this is my official mention of that; lmk if you want me to tag you in future posts! FINALLY found images of Elvis AND big bunny! pictured on the left and top right below!

Your brief encounter with Elvis had been your first experience of anything casual, or meaningless, and you’ve never had to navigate the emotions or situations before. It makes you antsy that you don’t know the correct procedure even before you’d left the plane; what do you even say to him? ‘Thanks for the sex, see you on the flight tonight?’ You’re not proud of it, but you ultimately panic to such an extent that you hide in the powder room until they’ve all disembarked. You’d not realised you’d have to hide from the other bunnies too though; they’d all converged on you as soon as you’d left - desperate for any morsel of information you would give. You’d somehow, thankfully for your dignity and the taxi driver’s ears, managed to prevent them from asking too many questions until you’d all arrived at the hotel where you would be staying. 

You were looking forward to ensconcing yourself in the hotel room, a proper shower and time to relax for the night and day or so before the return flight. That was, however, not to be, and you were thankful that you’d had the chance to at least wipe yourself down before getting redressed on the plane; your sudden lack of tights had forced you back into your dress - unwilling to be so exposed in your bunny corset. Instead of the peaceful night you had planned Daisy and Maggie were forcing their way into the room (of course, they’d have been sharing with you anyway but you can’t say that you didn’t try to run in and close the door on them) with Darla and Michelle close behind; you forget sometimes that even though they may be more ‘senior’ bunnies, they were still only two years older than you. They sit down around you, demanding you tell them everything, wanting you to fill in the gaps between the assumptions they could make from what they’d heard and when things had gone silent. 

“Oh lord, I just don’t know what to do -” You'd said after you’d recounted, blushing, the majority of the details; you’d left out him licking you, or that you think that might have been the first true orgasm of your life. You leave out that you think the hour you spent with him might have made you fall in love, and other ridiculous notions. And, for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to give a detailed description of him, trying to simultaneously protect him and to keep something just for you; you wouldn’t let them speculate on his size, or his stamina. But you had mentioned that he had a thing for feet, something that had been met with raucous laughter and clapping from the girls when you’d prefaced that with the story of your pantyhose being torn. You were, despite your embarrassment, glad to have these girls around you - you’d grown up in a fairly conservative part of town, and you know any of your close childhood or home friends would have been disgusted with you. They might have let it go - since it was Elvis, or have loudly judged you while silently expressing a level of jealousy but under no circumstances would they have encouraged the behaviour, or been so happy for you. Nor would they have interjected your story with their own, somewhat similar, although far less famous, tales. By the time the conversation had gotten back around to your dilemma with how to deal with Elvis again you were all relaxing on the two beds, piled up and crossed legged like a slumber party. “So really - what should I do?” 

“Just don’t change a thing,” Daisy recommends, “If he wants to make something of it let him, but you have to rise above it all. Seem like you don’t care. “ Maggie offers you differing advice;

“If you want it to happen again, just be all over him, it’s not like you have to worry that he doesn’t like you.” You consider these opposing suggestions, silent, sipping the terrible hotel coffee. Michelle speaks up, Darla nodding in agreement;

“In my experience… you’ve got to subtly let him know you’re there and available, but don’t fawn over him, just … just say hello in a friendly way and it’s all in his hands then. Remember, be casual about it.” You consider this for a moment before agreeing. It does seem to be the way of the least mortification. You try to put it out of your mind for the remainder of the break, taking the time to try and focus on resting and relaxing before you had to be back in the air. 

This time, there’s far less pomp and circumstance around his arrival; and you’re not surprised to see that it’s solely the same group again. Only Darla greets them on the tarmac - the rest of you already onboard and preparing for a quicker departure than last time. This time, you’re all in your little bunny suits, collars and cuffs, cottontails perfectly fluffed - since he’d requested it you all assumed it would save being made to change. This airport was, despite being private, closer in airspace to the larger international airport and your takeoff time was therefore far stricter than any of you would have liked. All knowing that sometimes these celebrities were as difficult to wrangle as herding a particularly difficult group of cats.

So you don’t have a chance to really look at him, take him in, until he’s brushing past you, his thick hands on your hips and waist moving you from where you’re blocking a narrower part of hallway with your body. He doesn’t say excuse me, or ask you to move, just manhandles you across him. You feel then, before you see, the soft plush fabric of his outfit, and when you glance over your shoulder at him you’re a little surprised that rather than the expensive, perfectly fitted, suit he was wearing last time, this time he was wearing a, clearly expensive but nonetheless fairly ordinary, tracksuit - navy blue, low zipper exposing the wide collared shirt underneath - his chest hair peeking out. Your tummy flips seeing him, and you stay very still where he’s put you, struggling to remember what your plan had been. He pats your ass, casually, in the blatantly chauvinistic way that should make you squirm, that implies he could and would do it to any girl at any time - although you hadn’t actually witnessed that yourself, and you’re mortified that at even that brief touch, without any words exchanged your breath hitches and your mind goes slightly blank. He’s gone by the time you try to open your mouth to say something and you try to clear your head by distracting yourself with the take-off preparations. 

Michelle is eyeing you up when you’re finishing checking the door, and she opens her mouth but you’re frantically shaking your head before she can say anything, gesturing to not say a word. She frowns, but complies - a moment later only asking you to help her sort the food out. You do so, happy to disappear for a little while and let the others deal with them for a bit. It’s not long after that the pilots signal for take-off and you sit down briefly as the plane taxies down the runway. You’re distracted enough by the situation you find yourself in; are you making it more awkward not talking to him? That for once the take-off doesn’t bother you at all and soon the plane is balanced in the air, allowing you and Michelle to finish your preparations. Daisy pops her head around the corner a few minutes later saying you’d been requested. 

You breathe in, deeply, as much as you can as a little bunny, plastering a smile on your face and you head out to the forward compartment where the group is sat. You expect to walk straight over to Elvis, but you’re stopped by someone else whose name escaped you - barely greeting you; 

“Look babydoll, last night, you made me the best Mai Tai of my life, and I’m sure you’re all…” he looks sideways, “as well trained as each other, but honey,  I’d really like it if you could do me another one?” You somehow manage to keep your face in check even though you want to scream at his barely concealed innuendo. Instead, you agree, customer service smile on your face, and turn to the rest of the compartment asking if they were all ready for drinks. There’s a resulting chorus of orders and so you head over to the bar to get started. Elvis hadn’t responded, walking out when you’d walked in - he’d gone right into the conference space and one of the boys had mimed a phone to his ear at another's questioning face. You were a little hurt to not be acknowledged but also, truthfully, a little relieved to not have to deal with him for the second. But it wasn’t to last long, upon delivering the other drinks with the other girls to many a relieved sigh,  a different man had pointed through to the conference area, gesturing to the bar, 

“Think you should take the boss a little pick me up too.” You nod in agreement but he hadn’t drank last time and you have no idea what that would mean making so instead you pour a short glass of cola, hoping that’ll do at least, and balancing the glass on the tray, head through the little curtained archway. You try not to show any emotion when you walk through, keeping your face neutral and concentrating on holding the drinks tray, the slight tip of the plane was liable to send a single glass sliding if you didn’t balance it perfectly. You hear him before you see him, curled against the wall with the phone pressed to his ear. His fingers twirling the cord as he looked out of the window, but with how dark it was outside he could only be looking at his reflection. You’d intended your poker face to display that you weren’t going to be the first to crack, to acknowledge anything but now you’re having to maintain it to retain dignity once you hear what he’s saying. He’s sweet-talking a girl, uttering promises and reassurances; 

“No, honey, darling, no - would I be ringing you now? You don’t need to nag me baby, that’s right you’re my baby aren’t ya, ye-ah, put it on your card honey, on my card, yeah that’s no problem… you know I like you in blue…” 

You know you have no claim on him; despite your activities together you’ve barely spoken to him, and you’ve only known the man 24 hours and yet a weird surge of possessiveness fills you. Or is it even possessiveness? Or just plain jealousy? Half the trouble was that you’ve never wanted someone like this — you’d never understood why the girls at school would fawn over a specific boy, it had never interested you. You’d never lain awake wondering what you should wear or how you should style your hair to best catch their attention. But today, just this morning, you’d nipped out to the nearest drugstore to the hotel and frivolously bought a new lipstick; you had no need for a new one, and certainly not in the colour you’d chosen - far flashier than you would usually wear, for some reason certain it would catch his eye, but you’d been unable to resist the temptation of putting on a bit of a show for him. To have that gone to waste, for him to ignore you, preoccupied with worrying about appeasing some other girl? Who wasn’t even there? You were annoyed at yourself, for being hurt by his actions and for doing it in the first place. 

He finally spots you in the window and he turns, waving you over, reaching out a hand for his drink off of your tray. He doesn’t verbally acknowledge you, or pause in his conversation, simply demanding you come closer with an impatient hand raised. You come towards him, dipping to allow him to easily take the glass, and you watch as he immediately tips it back for a gulp and places the half-full glass back onto the tray. He makes a little mmhmm noise down the phone as he turns his attention back to the call, and the girl on the other end. You turn to leave, not willing to simply stand there and wait for him to want the glass again, jumping when you feel him swat at your exposed thigh. You whirl back around, ready to either playfully (or truthfully, actually) confront him - once was fine but twice? But, before you can he’s back giving his attention to the phone again, looking out of the window. You take it as the dismissal he meant it, and you hate that as you walk away you add an extra sway to your walk - bunny tail bobbing with the motion - just in case he’s looking, and that you can feel your slightly smug smile from even that touch.

It feels like hours, but it was probably only twenty or so minutes later when he returns to the forward compartment, settling down into the large sofa-seat in the middle of the cabin. You’re forced to walk past a moment later and he grabs your arm on the way; 

“You look real good today Bunny - very cute.” You wiggle your tail at him and he chuckles; that deep laugh that starts in his chest but ends in his belly. His head rocks and it causes his loose hair to flop about, so different from it’s stiff look from the years prior. You beam at him, pleased to have been so entertaining. He looks you up and down again, still holding onto you,

“Like the lips darlin’. You wear that just for me?” You shake your head no, but he just laughs at you, “Ohhhh, you did it for ol’ Joe over there then did ya?” Feeling the catch-22 you’ve put yourself into you frown, you don’t want to admit that you did do it for him, but god do you not want him to even jokingly suggest you were trying to attract one of the other guys. So you do the next best thing, shaking your head and teasing him back.

“Nu-uh it was for me.” He laughs back at you, his eyes crinkling. When he calms back down he shakes his head in disbelief. 

“ O’course it was honey,” You protest his condescending tone,

“It was!” You gesture down at yourself,  “I don’t put all this on just for you,” He laughs again, eyes crinkling as he crows at you; shouting to the rest of the boys.

 “Ooh-hoo we got ourselves a real-life feminist bunny over here!” He says it mockingly, adding a sneer; “Watch out Ms. Steinem!” He scoffs,  “Now hon-ney, we both know it ain’t true… so why don’t you stop playing hard to get, admit you made yourself all pretty for me and come and sit over here. Right on daddy’s knee.” He pats his lap. You frown, you were a feminist, but his lap did look pretty inviting, and your heels were already hurting and you had wanted his attention. So, you do. 

“I’m only doing this because you’re paying me.” He chuckles again, one hand coming around you to hold your waist, the other coming to hike your legs further up and across him, his broad hand rubbing your thigh as he does so;

“Sure thing honey - you want me to tip you a little extra for whatever we’re about to do in there?” He nods his head towards the back of the plane. You frown a little, you know he’s joking but you’re suddenly a little worried he does think you’re paid to provide him with extra services. ‘We naturally do not tolerate any merchandising of the bunnies.’ That’s what the bunny bible says. Its word is law, so it’s not true that any extra services are expected. But then, when you think about it, you were told to be…nice to him. The annoying thought then registers, less concern about whether what you’re doing is against the rules, that you hope he realises that you’re doing this because you want to and not just because you’ve been told to. You try to shake this thought off, be casual - c’mon be casual, the mantra running through your head as you attempt to push all other thoughts and feelings out. After all, you don’t want him to think you’re not fun, or reading too much in to anything. 

“No-o, that’s, that’s, that’s just an added bonus.” You stroke down the zipper of his jacket, and he laughs again, grabbing your hand and kissing the knuckles.  He spreads your hands in his, assessing them. 

“God, you got such pretty little fingers baby, look at them lil’ nails  - what’s that colour called? Call-Girl Red? Scarlet Tart?” You blush, but you’re able to laugh, recognising that he would only continue to suggest increasingly ridiculous names until you did. He holds you there while he finishes his conversation with the boys, fingers brushing over your skin, until finally, he pats your thigh phrasing an order as a question - “Come through to the bedroom, doll?” You stand up, waiting for him to lead the way to the bedroom at the back of the plane; instead he stands and gestures ahead of him.

“C’mon bunny, hop to it,” He pauses, grinning after his borderline tragic bunny pun as if waiting for a laugh; you comply with a polite giggle even though it’s really not that funny, and take his hand when he holds it out, “let’s go.” When you cross into the bedroom he lets go, leaving you to sit down on the huge elliptical bed while he disappears into the bathroom for a moment. You try to breathe, wondering what he has planned when he returns. 

You have no idea why you’re suddenly so nervous. There’s a rising sensation of breathlessness travelling up your chest, your stomach churning a little. You feel inexplicably sick, and for a moment you worry, as the plane bobs the tiniest bit - the motion normally soothing, that you might actually puke. He’s still in the bathroom, and you’re trying to calm yourself down - what will you say to him when he comes out? He’s expecting something now. You don’t want to miss out on anything, it had been so good last time; you didn’t want this to be the new lasting memory of your, however brief, time together. You try to tell yourself you’re being ridiculous - c’mon now, calm down, you’re fine - it’s not like he hasn’t seen you before - not like you haven’t done this before, why are you doing this - don’t ruin it for yourself - oh my god why are you such a little baby get a grip.  But that clawing feeling is climbing your chest and you’re struggling to swallow - to breathe. You’re ripping off your little bow and collar as hurriedly as you can but it doesn’t make a difference. You sink down lower, practically lying down now, attempting to practice deep breathing. In through your nose, out through your mouth. It’s in that moment he comes bounding out of the bathroom - looking you over, as if he’d expected to be ready to pounce; not deal with you still fully dressed (as much as you could be in the bunny corset) and close to tears. 

“Hey - hey honey what’s this?” He sounds panicked, and his pitch only increases at the tear falling down your cheek. You try to speak but can’t; “Just - Just talk to me bunny, what, what’s wrong?”  You whine at him, trying to sit up and look at him rather than peep from your horizontal angle. He makes it easier by sitting by you on the bed and peering down at your face. 

“Nuh-uh-thing,” You finally gasp out, “Nothing’s wrong. I’ve just - just got myself all twisted.” A tear slips out, and you angrily brush it away trying to stem the flow. He looks concerned for a second, patting your arm.

“I won’t - we haven’t -  we don’t gotta do anything baby, you know that? Not gotta do a thing you don’t wanna do.” He sounds unsure, like he’s not had to deal with this before, or like he’s nervous he’s upset you. It only makes the tears fall a little faster - at how nice he’s being to you when you don’t feel as though you deserve it.

“No-o no I know, I want to,  I just can’t seem to stop,” You talk through your hitched breaths, trying to explain. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t breathe.” He hums, looking over at the little table that ran the length of the wall, at the little black bag settled there before patting his thighs and sighing. 

“Right. ‘nough messing about - lemme just get one of the boys to call Dr. -” 

“No! No! No - I want you! I wanna do this!” You roll onto your side, scrambling upright and turning to grip his jacket, twisting it in your fist. “I wanna - Elvis I promise I’ll be fine in a second just need to calm down. Catch my breath.”

“Well, if its just you’re breathing all funny let me just give you a puff of an inhaler; they’ve barely got anything in them, just wet your throat really but- but they do help,” You shake your head and he sighs again, as if unhappy you’d refuse the offer. But then he nods, almost to himself, and taking matters into his own hands - hauls you up to be leaning against this thick, sturdy, chest. The zipper was a little lower than before and another button of his shirt has popped open allowing you to pillow your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as you feel yourself come down. Shame creeping up as you become fully lucid at how irrational you’d behaved. You sit there for a little while - maybe as long as twenty minutes, but could be as short as ten. Elvis hums song after song at you, occasionally breaking into a little quiet verse, chest hairs tickling you as he moved. Finally you feel sane enough to push up a little, pulling away.

“Sorry - Sorry don’t know what came over me.” You stare at his chest, avoiding making eye contact. He brushes his hand over your chin, pulling it up to force you to look at him. He’s looking at you with an expression of tenderness that’s almost too much to bear. 

“S’all right doll, told you - it’s all fine.” You give him a tentative smile. 

“I’m sure that wasn’t very …sexy of me, but I do wanna give it another go, please Elvis?” He looks at you hard for a moment, directly in your eyes, as if attempting to judge you were being serious. He clearly decides you were because a moment later he’s leaning over you and moving his hand up your leg. 

But when his hand grazes your upper thigh, travelling upwards you feel yourself tense, suddenly stiff as a board. He kisses your neck, and his hand retreats. He spends a long couple of minutes stroking your arm, kissing your neck - your ears. Before attempting it for a second time. Again he gets most of the way there before you go stiff and tense. He moves his hand back to your arm,  talking lowly and slowly, practically whispering. 

“Now, darlin’ s’ok - we’ve done it before baby.” He’s soothing you like you’re a skittish horse, crooning into your ear, “If you wanna do this I need you to relax for me darling. Can’t do anything otherwise.” You nod, agitated at the accusation that you’re not already attempting to relax. 

“I’m trying Elvis - I want to too! I just, it’s involuntary!” He hums - looking over at the bag again -

“Look, honey, I’ve got some, some ‘ludes you can take,” You frown, you didn’t think Elvis was known for doing disco drugs. “I take ‘em to uh help me settle down baby.” You start to speak, perhaps to question the veracity of this claim or where he gets these from - considering his position on recreational drugs. But before you can he’s talking again; “Don’t get me wrong doll, I’m not - don’t get it twisted - they’re prescribed.” He pauses again - “But they’ll sort you right out, real leg spreaders. Won’t change your mind, if you say you want it you still will but, trust me, they’ll relax your body enough.” You shake your head at him, not admitting that while you would love to breathe the concept of not being in complete control of your body was terrifying, instead taking deep breaths to try and force yourself to relax a little more. 

“No-no, no need for that, ‘m sorry, I don’t know what’s come over me - I’m so nervous today - I just, sorry - just need another minute.” He sighs again, and although the irrational part of your brain worries it’s in annoyance you can tell he’s more annoyed about you consistently declining his offers of help. He’s still doing his best to soothe you, delicate fingers firmly rubbing your arms and sides, a constant motion. “I just - I know it’s ridiculous, but I still feel like I can’t breathe properly.” His fingers stop on the boning of the corset, and he taps it - as if he’s discovered an answer. 

“Awh no this is silly now doll, who could all squished in there like that.” He gestures down to where your chest is threatening to spill out of the tightly laced and zipped bodice. You frown, you’re pretty sure it’s mental and not physical but now he’s drawn attention to it you feel like it’s tightening around your middle. You twist to attempt to unhook it yourself - moving forward to bend out of his lap; “No, no darling, let me - I’ll get this thing offa you.” He pushes you further forward a little way, and then with surprising skill deftly undoes the bunny corset. You don’t want to admit it but the moment the hooks fall away you do feel as if some of the air has returned to your lungs. He’s gently and firmly peeling it away from your body, pulling it down and off of your legs - tutting and stroking the little red marks where the seams and boning have dug into you a little - whether because it was just generally too tight or because you’d been contorted into a slightly awkward position. 

“Lord almighty - they doin’ that to you every day?” You shrug, about to say that it wasn’t that much worse than some of your tighter dresses or your panty girdle. He holds it up though, looking at it with distaste, rather than the humour he had the first time he’d seen it off of you -  as if seeing it for the first time. “They should make ‘em stretchier! Or - or - a better lining!” He frowns again, “I’m gonna ring Hef and tell him - it’s not right!” You shake your head, the conversation at least distracting you from your lungs. 

“Elvis - it’s not like I’m meant to be naked right now. How would you supposedly know.” You gesture down at yourself, a little flushed at the realisation that you were, in fact topless and therefore nude from the waist up. He laughs at you, a little condescendingly. 

“You ‘spect me to believe he doesn’t know what you’re up to?” He pauses, “Or that…, bunny, you know, I was, uh, warned that you girls would be… available.” You grimace, it makes you feel like a whore when it’s put like that and you try to return you mind to the point you were trying to make. 

“Well, still, if it’s because of me that the boat gets rocked - I like my job, and it was at your request we’re proper bunnies today and not in our flight uniforms!” He rolls his eyes at you, huffing at the accusation.

“Ok, ok. Fine. But I’m not happy about it.” You laugh a little, and you notice your chest bobbing with the motion - it makes you suddenly very aware of your nudity, probably a sign that you’re starting to return to normal, and you wrap an arm around your middle while scrambling to sit properly upright instead of in a semi recline. He looks at you sideways, starting to lean down, 

“Well - now we got that sorted - “ You cut him off,

“It wasn’t about that - it was just, I just got all caught in my head, I think I’m a little messed up; it happens every now and again. It just - anyway, it doesn’t matter now. Could you, sorry, would you pass me my bag from over there?” You nod towards the bag just inside the door, it had been a little presumptuous perhaps but you’d left it close enough that if you had missed the mark it wouldn’t have been tricky to move or hide it. “I’ll get changed now.” He frowns, he’s sat upright again himself, but doesn’t move for the bag, instead pulling your arm around and dragging you to sit over his legs again - he leans back, pulling your head to lie on his chest. 

“Babe - there’s nothing wrong with you… you just gotta, gotta put a little of it into the air, believe it’s happening for a reason.” He pauses, one arm moving up to wrap around your waist, the other stroking your arm, catching on the little cuff that was still there. “You gotta promise you won’t - it’s no secret, not anymore, but I don’t share this with everyone - so you promise you won’t laugh?” You nod, as best you can - he sounds nervous. “My mama, she er, she always used to say I was real special, that I had a gift.” You nod again, assuming this is about to lead into him singing something to you which, while you didn’t think it was going to be key to ending these nerve attacks you keep having, is certainly not something you would discourage. “But, she uh used to say I had the power to heal things, and, and I think its true baby, so will you - maybe if we can; if I can give you some of my ‘nergy and we think about it - real hard - together, we might get somewhere? Just gotta, gotta connect - spiritually. Maybe if I, If I push on you, and we meditate together we might, it might help?” He looks so hopeful and sounds so earnest that, despite your misgivings about the veracity of these claims, you agree. 

“Ok, ok - if you think, if it might help. I just, I do wanna do things with you, I don’t want to disappoint you.” 

“You won’t baby, you won’t.” He sits down, cross legged at the top of the bed, pulling you around to sit in front of him. He makes no mention of your nakedness, and you’re doing your best not to notice it yourself. “Ok, honey, so just, I’m gonna put my hands here, and you’re just going to breathe with me ok?” His eyes are bright, and his face open, like he’s simply excited to be able to share this with someone. You nod, placing your hands on top of where his are resting on his thighs. “Hold on baby, let’s get these offa ya too.” And he unbuttons your little cuffs, rubbing your wrists where they’d sat, “You don’t hafta, don’t need to think about anything ok darling? You just sit there, and focus on my hands and match my breathing ok? I’ll do all the hard work.” You nod again, and he shuffles himself a little, as if getting himself ready to settle in. “Oh - and I want you to close your eyes.” You look at him for a second, attempting to gauge that he’s being serious and this isn’t some kind of elaborate set-up. He gazes back at you, blue eyes completely calm, and you let your eyes slip closed. He hums a moment later, and then you feel him clasping your hands. 

You can tell he’s focussing his breathing, slowing it down and drawing it out, and you match him as best you can, feeling him spread your fingers and press his palms into yours. It takes all of your attention and sufficiently distracts you from your panic and worry that quickly you don’t realise you’re no longer thinking about anything but the light pressure of his hand on yours and the air filling your lungs. 

You’re entirely focussed on his slow, measured breaths, and your mind is blank - it’s almost a surprise when an immeasurable time later he flexes his hands, whispering at you to open your eyes. You come back up slowly, blinking in the artificial light of the plane, despite Elvis having used the dimmer. 

Although you do, admittedly, feel better you’re still not wholly convinced by his healing properties. What you are grateful for however, is how happy he looks when you open your eyes, as if pleased to have been given the opportunity. And regardless of the ability to heal you, you also feel like something has changed. A shift in the energy between you. 

His hand grasps yours, his fingers releasing you to trail up your wrist, up your forearm, and stroke back down to your palms again, brushing his fingers all the way down to your very fingertips and starting all over again. The motion of it, after the intimacy of the last half hour sends your nerve-endings alight, goosebumps forming over your flesh. You feel completely calm, completely ready for him again, your posture straight but relaxed. He moves his hands further up, brushing against your armpits and you gasp as he tickles you the tiniest amount. Suddenly, you find yourself up on your knees - leaning into him, falling into him. Your hands cupping his face, fingers tangling in his sideburns. He catches you in his relaxed arms, the soft fabric of his jacket rubbing against your nipples. He’s still breathing quite deeply, mouth parted - and it allows you to press your lips against his, tongue rapidly falling into his mouth. His hands spread across your torso, curving around your chest as you lean into him - trying to get as physically close to him as you emotionally feel.

His thumbs twirl in circles and your back arches as your nipples pebble against his soft touch - your pussy suddenly starting to feel unbearably hot in its three layers of tights and panties. You huff against his lips, pulling back to grasp the waistband of them all - determined to simply roll them all down together, saving them from him, and you do so in one motion almost immediately regretting that it left you completely bare while he was still fully clothed. He doesn’t give you a chance for it to be more than a fleeting thought though, lying you back, still focussed on making you breathless with his mouth. He kisses along your cheek to your neck and you gasp as he sucks on the sensitive patch just above where your collar bone joins your shoulder. You try to reciprocate, pushing the jacket off of him and struggling to unbutton the last of his shirt -  exposing his chest and stomach. He bats your hand away when you go for the top of his pants, pulling away from you and he stands up - surveying you. 

“You ready for me, baby?” You squirm a little under his gaze, and you’re not sure where the boldness comes from to reach a hand down, dragging a finger over your wetness, and spreading the folds of your labia open for him to see the glistening stickiness within. 

“I dunno, what do you think?” His mouth gapes at you, breathing heavily, the motion as unexpected to him as it was to you, and as you sink a finger into yourself, moaning while you do, he hurriedly removes his pants - throwing them somewhere, his eyes never straying from your core. He pushes your arm out of the way a moment later, 

“Think you look like a goddamn fucking centrefold - Jesus Christ, bunny, Lord, all for me, Halle-fucking-lujah,” He lowers himself back down, pressing a kiss to your chest, pumping himself a few times before lining his cock up with your entrance. 

He sinks into you, slowly, letting you feel every inch of him that he guides into you. The slight overhang of his belly pressing against your middle as he holds you close, pressing into you as deeply as he can get. You feel every inch of him, every fold in his skin as he pushes in - you know he’s not huge, but it’s been so long that to have something in you two nights in a row, you can feel your entrance ache a little, and inside a slight burn from the stretch. He groans, feeling your tight walls clench around him as you shift, wrapping your legs around him crossing your ankles behind his back. He pants against your ear, kissing the sensitive patch of skin right behind.  He’s encasing you in him, smothering you, the smell of him - he’d clearly showered after his show, the faint hint of neutrogena still clinging to him but his own scent, the mixture of his own musk and woodsy cologne layering over it - surrounds you. It altogether feels as intimate as the meditation did - just his and your bodies entangled together. He rests there, barely rocking into you, slowly, almost tenderly - before dragging himself out, rolling off.

“Gotta let you breathe, mama - wanna get deeper.” The concept seems impossible, but he’s pushing one of you legs to the side, rolling you slightly and clambering on top, straddling your other leg and kneeling down before he’s sinking in again. 

“Oh - shit, shit - how’re you, oh my god Elvis, that’s - I’ve never,” He knocks against your walls, blindly, until he hits the little bundle of nerves inside you causing all thoughts to leave your head, unable to form a sentence past whimpering. You prop yourself up with one hand, holding onto him with the other, it’s new for you - to be able to watch someone’s face as well as watch them push themselves into you. Being able to look at his face, his mouth open, little grunts and moans flowing as his eyes half-close in pleasure is mind-blowing; beyond your wildest imagination. 

“Oh baby, mama, you’re so - oh god, how are you still so tight, you ain’t been properly broken in yet, have you, fuck,” His hips are thrusting into you now, little jolts of pleasure running down your spine and you whine as he hushes you, rubbing a hand across your tummy, moving it up to grasp at your breast. He squeezes, on the edge of too hard, swiping his thumb across your nipple as he pinches it - causing you to clench down on him again, prompting a low groan out of his own mouth. He strokes down your torso, before resting his hand on you, it feels huge across your stomach, heavy and hot almost feeling like it’s burning through you. He slips his thumb lower, coaxing your clitoris out from hiding. 

“Want you to go with me, C’mon now baby - c’mon bun, I’m close,” He slams his hips into you, “Al-most there,” His fingers rub over you a little faster, and your nails of your supporting hand dig into your own hair, the other clutching his arm, as you tumble over the edge, shouting,

“Oh - oh - oh, god, Elvis - daddy, god, fuck that’s - oh god,” You hear him swear, pulling out just in time and spraying over your stomach, his fingers coming off of you, allowing you to come down, your body still trembling for a few moments.  

When you feel like you’re properly back on earth, a few minutes later, you’re still lying back, panting, while you hear him stand and  get himself wiped off.  Coming over to you to gently wipe away the mess on your tummy. He looks over at you, eyes still half-lidded, 

“C’mon ‘lil bunny, time to get back to work.” He pats your thighs and you shakily stand up. Despite his hurry he behaves almost unexpectedly gentlemanly and fetches your bag for you from beside the door. “Ain’t gonna make you put that torture device back on - you can do the leather if you want.” You frown, thinking for a moment - everyone will know what you’ve been up to then, but then you laugh to yourself a little - everyone already certainly knows. You pause before getting your underwear back on, slightly surprised at his speed, looking over at him; 

“You sure you won’t…don’t wanna go again?” He looks a little bashful for a second, 

“ ‘m not, I’m an ole man now baby.” Is all he says in reply, but it does the job in conveying what he meant. You look over at him - not sure that you’d describe him as old, he’s what… 38, 39? But you leave it be - dressing in the little leather coat/wrap dress. As you sit to roll your tights over your legs though he stops you, looking you over. “Bunny? Leave off the hose.” 

“Sure daddy, sure.” You obey, stripping them off again and pulling your boots onto your bare legs - undoubtedly you’ll get a blister but it’s worth it for the pleased way he looks at you and the kiss on the top of your head in reward for your obedience. You nip into the bathroom, trying to sort your hair and touch up your make-up, and by the time you’re ready to come out he’s gone. 

You walk out with your head up, and while you’re greeted with a series of smirks and some whispers you’re not as panicked about it as before, and you’re relieved he came out before you, positive that he took the brunt of any teasing. He winks at you when you pass him, dressed without his shirt now, but otherwise ignores you. This doesn’t upset you like before -  you’re content that only you and him truly know what’s just gone on and that your new, intimate, connection is safe and tucked away just for the two of you. It feels like you’ve been wrapped up in him for days and yet when you look over at the clock ticking away you realise you’ve only been in the air for an hour and a half. You feel a little like you’ve left a tiny part of yourself in that room with him, and that you should feel more vulnerable - more exposed than you do. Instead, you feel calm - your tension almost completely gone and with that you start to feel the possibility that you might actually be able to enjoy the next few hours. 

A couple of hours later, you’re dancing in the disco room - providing entertainment although you’re sure most of them, certainly Elvis, should be sleeping; unsure where the burst of energy from everyone has come from. But still, you’re dancing about with the other girls, playfully messing around, when he - from his sat position, lavender tinted glasses now on his nose, pulls you down to whisper in your ear,

“C’mon bunny, give me a little show - pick one of ‘em.” He gestures to the other girls bobbing around you. You look at him, mouth open, a little shocked at his bold request - so different from the sweet, slow, intimate behaviour from earlier. It’s not something you’re totally opposed to, but….in public? It’s as if he’s reading your mind; reassuring you -

“S’ok, baby, s’just us up here - just me and m’boys,” He pats you on the thigh, “Go on - there’s a good girl.” You stumble forward a little and make eye contact with Maggie - who was already looking over, clearly eager to share his attention. You look back over to Elvis, watching him grin at her, pleased that she seems so willing, “Just wanna watch you two kiss honey, nothing more - don’t gotta be that dirty but just… just a little. Just for me.” You nod, steeling yourself. But Maggie isn’t reluctant in any way, threading her fingers through yours to pull you closer. The tie of your leather dress brushes against her bare thigh, still in the bunny corset, and you feel her shudder against you as you step completely into her space. 

It’s a little strange, kissing her, different but simultaneously essentially the same. The startling difference was the … niceness of it, it was sweet and slow and gentle. Different from the lip biting and teasing of the men you’d kissed. You forget, for a moment, all the other people in the room, it’s narrowed to just the three of you although really you’re putting on a show for everyone, and you open your eyes - watching Elvis watch you. Despite Maggie’s lips on yours - her soft body still pressed against you - your focus is solely on him. His eyes are burning into you, and his legs are spread, thighs thick and inviting. You put a little more effort in, grasping her hair, rubbing down her back, and you listen to him huff a little chuckle when you jokingly squeeze her tail, and slot your leg between hers. You keep eye contact behind her head, watching him swallow, shifting a little to rub a hand over himself - completely unabashed at doing so in front of everyone. The sight of him sat there, looking like a sultan surveying his harem, blue eyes serious and intense, makes your eyes slip closed, and you put all your focus into the feeling of being watched and being kissed. You pull away, laughing as you both sway a little from the force of coming apart - you look over at him; 

“That alright Da-El?” He beams at you, 

“Perfect girls - so goddamn perfect.” He pats his thigh, the outline of his hardening cock almost completely visible, “Why don’t you come over here bunnies, let me have a better look.” You both do as he asks, giggling, as you tumble together onto his lap. It’s messier now, more fun, her hands scrabbling down your sides, and yours cupping her cheeks. You feel so hyper from it all that you almost feel drunk. His hand moves to support your lower back as you lean across to kiss Maggie again, giggling a little against her lips as she almost tips backwards until his arm catches her. 

“God, men fucking dream about this dolls - two little bunnies sat in their laps. But this is just for me ain’t it? Just for me?” His head is tipped back, but he swings it forward to look at you both - intensely, possessively. How a man could be possessive over two women he’d only known 48 hours, on a plane he didn’t even own, was mind-boggling - the sheer confidence required for that kind of thought overwhelming. Yet you can’t help but feel turned on by it, your own head nodding insistently to reassure him. Maggie looks askance at you, but still rapidly nods - the slight lie going unnoticed. His thigh flexes and where you’ve leant forward has hitched your tiny skirt up high enough that you’re now entirely sat feeling the soft fabric encasing his thigh underneath you rub against your bare legs. You can’t help but rock against it, just the tiniest amount. You can feel everyone’s eyes on you three, and instead of the shame you expected to feel, your stomach tightens in arousal at the sensation of being watched. He lets out a little moan, and it only makes you work harder, slipping your tongue into Maggie’s mouth as she pants against your lips. You feel Elvis’  hand slide up your body to the side of your ribcage, his thumb brushing your breast. You pull back, and he gasps as you stroke the outside of his soft trouser leg, gently rubbing the fabric over his cock. Elvis abruptly stands, pushing you both off. 

“Think there might be some important business I need to do in Hef’s office. Why don’t you two run along ahead - gonna need,” he looks sideways, jokingly, playing it up for your forgotten audience, “gonna need a couple of helping hands.” You give what can only be described as a polite smile, wondering what on earth has gotten into you that you were willing to display yourself like that in public. But for whatever reason you’re walking back into the bedroom again - this time following behind Maggie. You’re watching her from behind, and though you’ve seen her in uniform countless times you’re suddenly left wondering if her shape has always looked that inviting to grab - or if the teddy had always revealed so much of her ass. She seems far more at home in Hugh’s private quarters than you ever did the first time, and you realise suddenly that it’s very probable this isn’t her first time back here with a guest. The realisation shoots a burst of anxiety through you again, that you try to immediately brush away, that this whole thing really was just expected of you. 

Elvis shuts the door behind him when he comes in, immediately setting the mood lighting. Before resting his hand on your back and pulling you in for a quick kiss. It’s strange kissing him again now, you expect for some reason his lips to feel rough in comparison to Maggie’s, masculine instead of her soft femininity,  but as always his lips are full and buttery soft a perfect representation of the juxtaposition of his personality. He pulls away too soon and you find yourself leaning into him, eyes still closed, chasing the sensation, pouting when he laughs at you. 

“You good to go honey, or do you need a hand givin’ me a show?” You’re confused by what he’s offering, until you notice he’s holding out his hand two little pills sat in it. “Just vitamins baby,” You shake your head, you’re a little nervous but despite the environment you’re working in you’ve not taken anything yet, and the concept of it scares you more than your nerves. You’re surprised though when Maggie’s hand comes from nowhere, plucking one of them out of his palm and swallowing it dry. He beams at her, “Atta girl.” Maggie giggles at him, 

“Thank you daddy,” and he glances over at you, sideways, again before swallowing the leftover pill. 

He claps his hands, before suddenly, playfully, throwing you over his shoulder and onto the bed. You’re shocked at the display of physicality - not expecting it at all, and even more surprised when a moment later Maggie is thrown in much the same manner, bumping onto the bed and knocking into you. He settles himself up by the cushions, looking expectantly at the pair of you of you sprawled out and he gestures to the rest of the bed. He shifts, settling his hands on his open thighs, the hard outline of his cock almost completely visible through his pants. He clenches them into fists, like he’s trying not to touch. He looks, with his hair wild and his glasses on, so classically - typically Elvis that it makes your heart rate increase just watching him.

“Go on then, pretty little bunnies - wanna see you two - wanna see you havin’ fun. Give me a show.” It’s not a request but a command, and even if you’d wanted to (which you didn’t) you can’t do anything but obey. 

Maggie responds with a “Yes, sir,” as you move to situate yourself, kneeling at the bottom of the bed and she crawls over to meet you. This time she takes control, kissing you, her hands moving over the little leather coat-dress. It feels different having her lithe, nylon covered leg pushing in between yours instead of Elvis’ thick thigh. You wouldn’t go so far to say it’s better, but the friction against your thin panties and the way it allows your legs and thighs to stay fairly close, to clench and move is appealing. You can’t help but rock against her, clutching at her waist -  she laughs into your mouth, pulling your hair a little as she presses gentle kisses down your neck. You gasp, head falling back, before you pull away to lean forward again, catching her face between your hands, you rub against her, drawing her front back towards you - you giggle, whispering, 

“Mags’ I can’t - can’t believe we’re doing this...” Elvis chuckles behind you, clearly you weren’t as quiet as you thought, and that makes you laugh harder. It’s fun and flirty and you haven’t felt this chill about something in a while - the ability to just zone out and enjoy the sensations without having to worry about the future. You start to unbelt your dress, trying to move quickly - frantically, and as soon as you’ve got it unbuttoned Maggie is palming at you, pushing it down your shoulders. She moves forward a little more, and you lean back - letting Elvis get a better look at your newly uncovered skin. She moves her hand to brush against your panty-covered mound and you gasp. Your head falling forward onto her shoulder at the feel, so different from your own fingers or his thick digits, she moves her leg and you’re suddenly humping against nothing - you whine into the air, Elvis interrupting you as you try to pull her back.  

“Sl-slow down girls, get tha’ dress off and go a lil’ slower - there’s no rush. No need to rush now - just slow - slow it down.”  You nod trying to still your hips, gasping out, 

“Ok, ok, daddy - well - we’ll slow -ah- down,” and Maggie pushes you, both of you tumbling backwards. You roll for a moment, the silk of Maggie’s costume rubbing against your skin, the coolness a welcome relief to your burning skin. You suddenly catch, out of the corner of your eye, Elvis shifting, his arm moving at a rapid pace and you don’t know why, considering what you’re currently doing, you’re shocked to realise he has his cock out, that he’s touching himself watching you. You accidentally make eye contact, and you’re taken aback by the look on his face, his lip curling in pleasure. To be watched with such burning desire is shocking, and would be enough to make you shy had you not had this overwhelming sexual confidence come over you from somewhere. You absently think that you should probably help Maggie out of her corset, the pufftail isn’t comfortable to lie in and she was probably wishing for more breathability right now, but before you can offer she’s stroking a finger down you and all thoughts fly out of your head. She looks up at Elvis, questioning something that you can’t hear through your single-minded tunnel vision and hearing, but you manage to catch his reply; 

“No - no, just - just, just over top, honey, not - no, that’s just for me.” And she resumes to touching you over the top of the growing dampness of your panties, you groan at the sheer level of objectification; at being spoken about as if you were just there for his amusement, that you were his. Maggie renews her efforts though, and her fingers quickly, even over the soft cotton fabric of your underwear, find the spot to make you squirm, hips bucking into her. She soothes you, and you wonder if you should be reciprocating in some way but as her delicate fingers push the tiniest fold of fabric into you, you’re lost clutching at the fur throw, the slight friction easing as it gathers up your slick. She moves her finger to circle around your clit, bunching the fabric between her thumb and fingers and rubbing it against you. You somehow manage to blink open your eyes, leaning your head all the way back to look at Elvis; his entire focus is on what’s happening between your legs - it causes a shudder to run through you, and your stomach tightens as you feel your legs start to cramp; 

“Go on baby, hold it for me, hold it - don’t - want you to keep her just there for me - that’s it. Stop stop, that’s just for me.” She pulls her hand away and your back arches as whine, so close to the edge. 

He leans in gripping Maggie’s neck to kiss her and you can hear the wet smack of their lips together, he pulls back, briefly “Don’t worry, honey, don't wanna make you jealous…just wanna say thank you for such a lovely show - that’s alright isn’t it?” You can’t do anything but agree and he returns to her, hands on her neck and head to hold her in place. Watching it up close you can understand why he wanted to watch himself, you wonder if that’s what you look like with him too; all teeth and tongue and lips. You squirm, still feeling the possibility of your orgasm. 

“Now go on, there’s a good girl, run along now, thank you darling - You gonna be alright? You want me to get one of the boys to uh, see to ya properly?” She shakes her head, almost fondly as if laughing that she might need his help to find a willing partner.  “Well - You tell ‘em I said it’s ok.” He sends her on her way like he’s pimping her out for the night, you hate how it makes your core throb a little, and you can’t help but glow at being the very obviously chosen one; not just one night but two in a row. Maggie looks back at you, still lying on the fur throw, winks and leaves - sauntering through the door. When she’s gone Elvis turns back to you, rubbing sweeping circles on your stomach,

“Just wanna get you goin’ again for me,” His hand starts to trail down, and you don’t know what’s come over you but you put your own out - grasping his wrist to stop him wanting him to know;

“Daddy, I’ve never - that was my first time with,” He laughs, 

“Oh, honey, I know, I know. Did you like it?” You nod, and he laughs again, “I’ll bring my camera next time baby, can’t believe Hef’s not got one installed in here somewhere. What a waste.” He tries to move but you hold his hand where it is, causing him to look calculatingly over you, one eyebrow slightly raised. “Was there something you wanted?” 

“I…” You squirm under the pressure of his gaze and the tone of his voice. 

“C’mon bunny, tell me what you want.” You nod, a bit nervous - but you had stopped his hand for a reason. 

“Could you, would you… you know.” He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face when he responds, 

“No, sorry, I don’t.” You whine,

“Ugh - would you, with your tongue?” 

“Ohh - you want me to go back down on you? Have another taste of that sweet yittle bunny cunt?” You wriggle at his harsh wording mixed with his babying tone, but you frantically nod. He grins, taking his glasses off and throwing them somewhere on the bed.

“Well ain’t today just my lucky day.” He manhandles you into a better position, ripping your underwear off, pushing you against the cushions and shoving one underneath your hips -  moving to situate himself between your thighs. He wiggles like a cartoon about to be served at a restaurant - almost certainly to make you laugh and you comply, nervously giggling, mind preoccupied with hoping that you taste alright now that you’ve asked for it. He spreads you open, kissing your inner thigh before moving closer to your core, and you can feel yourself pulse with anticipation.

He tentatively licks you, just a gentle, wet stripe and you immediately gasp - eyes flying wide open, startled at how sensitive you already felt. Although it shouldn’t come as any surprise, you’d been slick and swollen since you’d fucked earlier, and a bit sore since last night. He flattens his tongue, spreading your folds, and moves his fingers in to keep you spread open. Your hips buck of their own accord when he wets his lips and blows cold air onto you, watching you squirm and clench in response. You can feel his smile before he concentrates again his tongue lapping at your entrance. Your legs come up, needing more support to better grind onto him and your hands move down to grip his hair, thumbs digging into the side of his face, his sideburns, while your fingers find purchase in his long strands, gently holding him in place. He renews his efforts, flicking his tongue in your inner folds and he moves one of his hands to brace your stomach down as he moves to lick directly over your clit - your hips thrusting up enough in response for you to understand the necessity of his hand holding you down. You didn’t realise you could become addicted to the feel of something so quickly, but you’re not sure you’re going to be able to live without someone, preferably him, doing this to you regularly. The warm wet pressure builds, and on top of where you were already on the edge it’s quickly building to be almost too much. He pulls back just as you think you’re about to go over the edge and you groan, but he smiles at you, catching his breath, lips glistening with your slick. 

“Oh god - is that, is that me on you?” He grins, 

“Sure is baby, sweetest honey from my honey bun-bun.” He licks his lips, and you groan again, your tummy flipping from how close you still feel, 

“Elvis - Daddy - need you, need more,” He leans back down, whispering, crooning in babytalk to your pussy; 

“Oh baby, baby, poor little, yittle, baby bunny - daddy’s gonna take real good care of you now, no more games baby, no that’s right, gonna get you right there,” He presses his lips to your clit kissing it, nose buried in you. Your entire focus is on the sensations as he moves down to spear his tongue into you, so different from a finger or cock and you almost choke from the force of the puff of air you exhale, as he curls it just so; you didn’t even know it was possible to do that and you wonder how much practice at this he really has. 

You can’t bear to look down at him anymore, the sight of his long lashes brushing against you, reminding you of who it was between your legs, watching you almost too much and you throw your head back, eyes closing as he thrusts his tongue in and out. He moves to add his thumb in, rubbing over your clit as his tongue continues to do its job, soothingly licking where you’re sore around the entrance to your hole. Your stomach tightens as he maintains a steady pace and you clench around him, thighs coming to rest on either side of his head, as you rock on his tongue and fingers. It’s not long, only moments when the pressure and movement get you there, body jumping as you crest over the wave of your orgasm. He licks you through it, and it means you just keep going. It’s overwhelming, and not something you’ve experienced before, the extended shaking and shuddering as you jolt around, jumping with every fizzle of pleasure. Finally, he pulls back, allowing you to breathe again, panting as you force your body to relax. 

A minute or so later you’re able to sit up a little more, opening your eyes properly again. You look over at Elvis and he’s got his cock in his hand - you’re tired but you feel like you have to show him some kind of appreciation for the best orgasm of your life so you lean up on your elbows, reaching a hand down to join his, you pump it once or twice before whispering to him,

“Let me Daddy,” and you sink your mouth down onto him. He gasps in surprise swearing

“Lord hav- oh god baby, bunny, oh shit.” as you hum around him, swallowing. He was clearly already very close and it only takes a couple of moments in the hot, wet, pressure of your mouth and throat before he’s warning you, 

“Gonna, it’s, I’m gonna go off baby, it’s - I’m close, real fu-cking close.” And with that he thrusts once, twice, while you hollow your cheeks - sucking down hard and that’s all it takes for him to be spurting into your mouth. You flinch, surprised, despite his warning, at the speed the taste unexpected, but still you swallow it down. “Fuck - fuck, thank you bunny, thank you.” He’s sweet, offering more gratitude than you’ve ever received from a man. You kiss his tip as you pull away and once again fall onto your back. You lie back, panting, and he joins you, curling around you - cuddling into you for the first time since you started this whole thing. You roll into him, enjoying being cradled in his thick arms, trying to comprehend the events of the past forty eight hours and how you’re going to be returning back to your normal life in only another few hours, wondering what Maggie chose to do, when he starts to talk, fingers tracing circles on your arms. 

“You know - my daddy’s - I got ‘im buyin’ me my own jet.” Your brow furrows a little, unsure where he’s going with this - “I uh, I - you’ll still have a cute little outfit, I like - like to dress ma girls up but, but I promise it’ll be … stretchy and uh, I won’t - I won’t assume anything but - but I  sure would like it if you, you would come on board with me?” He perhaps should have stopped there but he keeps talking, “It also - it would mean more time together, bunny, fewer girls around. Well…fewer in uniform anyway.” You grimace a little - so what is he suggesting; you be his on call plane whore? You hate that you want it, hate that you’re so desperate for him, in any way you can have him - to whatever capacity he’s available that you’re going to agree. 

“Of course - that would, that would be a dream come true Elvis, I would love to,” You’re not entirely stupid though. You smile at him, agreeing but not believing - this happens all the time in the clubs too; men promising things that never materialise - the drunker they get the more outlandish the claims; cars, houses, vacations, jobs. You know of too many girls who quit because they were promised a job as someone’s secretary only for the role to never materialise to put too much stock into his question. Besides, you still have two more flights with Elvis already in Big Bunny’s calendar - you were sure there’s more than enough time for him to make the offer again if he was really serious. 

“Wha-what’s your schedule like?… You got a boyfriend?” You pause, uncertain where this is going, surely these were questions that should have been asked yesterday? You suddenly realise that you know he’s seeing someone if only from the overheard phone-call but that you also had no idea if you were turning into the other woman or something. Or if you were just a girl to pass the time with. 

“I - uh, no. No, no-one. I’m not, we’re kept quite busy…” He frowns, kissing the top of your shoulder,

“Would you, you could come watch a show if you, I’ll get tickets for you and the girls if you want?” You smile, 

“That would be lovely, thank you -” He continues, 

“You could come a little earlier if you wanted, I’m playing somewhere new tomorrow, well - uh,” he looks over at the clock, grimacing, “Today. So I gotta check the sound and things, you could come to the rehearsal? I want you there baby,” You register some shock at his last words but nod, agreeing, it sounds like the opportunity of a lifetime and you go to say it but you suddenly realise, from the little puffing breaths on your shoulder he’s fallen asleep practically mid-sentence. You look around for the clock, before you, with some wonder, discover there’s still ninety minutes left of the flight and close your own eyes too. The others can do the stewarding, you’re doing the main job - keeping Elvis happy. 

[mochiwrites]

ive just finished catching up on night life and wow! oh gosh!! theres so much to process and so many questions!!! what happened with the last human mumbo was close to? whos the murderer? what exactly is scar being hired to do? whats scars past? wtf is up with scott? did scar set up that illusion with the house fire in the most recent chapter or scott? both?? why????

even if scar does all this to protect tub, wheres the guarantee that scott doesnt just pop in and take him anyways? i doubt theres so much as a drop of honor in that creepy, creepy man. what if scar gets found out and mumbo and grian are betrayed so they stop talking, then scott gets taken by tubs so scar's left alone, and goes to mumbo and grian for help which they ultimately give because how could they deny a friend in need?? WHAT ABOUT PEARL???

oh my gosh PEARL!! im so concerned for her. im so scared for her. if something happens to her ill kill everyone in the fic and then myself /ref

also taurtis?? id assumed he'd died, then grian had some self thinking about taurtis might be dead and now im convinced hes gonna come back somehow?? but how? or am i overthinking this and he IS dead? god poor dude

GRIAN. LORDY LORD how on earth so much guilt can fit in such a tiny man baffles me. at the same time something about him being human and objectively weaker in all this really resonates with me. his desire to be useful and of equal standing. ouch. doesnt hit any weak spots for me there no not at all.

im also very unhealthily in love with this version of mumbo. id die for him a million times over.

the worldbuilding is incredible!! it's a lot but i feel like its being incorporated in a way that isnt overwhelming so we're able to follow along with everything pretty well! plus, the fact that a lot of it is from grian's (very confused) perspective makes him work really well as a sort of source of information for readers! its great!!

i am just. overall very. wow. looking forward to future updates. very much looking forward to that. keep up the incredible work!!

ehehe henlo!! :D

many questions to be had !!! I want to answer all of them SO bad oh man. but I am being so brave and not spoiling *vigorous nodding* some of these answers Are coming soon though!!

scar’s motivations, in a broad and general sense, are really intriguing to consider in this au. he’s someone who’s never been human operating on fae morals while mingling with humans. so there’s this really interesting clash of ideals and goals going on. but if he’s not careful, the fallout could be… messy. extremely messy.

:)

PEARL AND TAURTIS OUGH… taurtis was put on a VERY interesting character path, and let me tell you it was. A major struggle trying to figure out how much of his story to put in the limelight. because taurtis is technically living in a different town while going through stuff and the path that leads him to the arachne is all going on in the background fbfbfbfg but 👀 in regards to his status… who knows! and PEARL… I cradle her So gently in my hands, I care her so much. I am so sorry

and ACK I’ve talked about grian and his humanity and the connection it has to everyone and the story drives me MADE. because realistically speaking, he Is the weakest. he Is the most vulnerable. the most fragile. it would Not take much to kill him. yet that doesn’t stop him from wanting to help. from wanting to be useful. there’s so much drive and perseverance and just… hope. he has so much hope and stubbornness and he is so painfully human. it reminds the non human characters of what they lost. of what they want to protect (mumbo).

and objectively, it’s because of grian’s humanity that he’s able to see the humanity in those around him (mumbo and scar).

songbird!mumbo is SO beloved. little sad and anxious vampire guy… I’m so sorry

but uwahhh thank you !!! the world building is something that I have a lot of fun with in this au. because it’s a fantasy au there’s So much world at my fingertips, which is why it’s so important to find the balance when introducing concepts and stuff. I try not to overwhelm with information <3

and using grian as the reader’s in to the supernatural world is Very purposeful :D when you begin the series, you and grian have the same amount of knowledge. you’re entering the supernatural world together, and learning the same information. so the readers are Literally seeing the world through grian’s eyes.

it’s a very helpful writers tool for world building >:D

and !!!!! 🥹💕 I’m glad you enjoyed it so far !! chapter 5 is already outlined and planned hehe. I’m very excited about this next chapter, and I’m hoping the wait won’t be too long!!

( also, since you mentioned the solar eclipse playlist, this au has a playlist as well! :D in case you’re interested uwu )

[sunshinebingo]

The Princess and the Knight

Chapter 9

A/N: It has been a while since I updated this fic so those who were reading it probably forgot about it. But I still need to wrap up the little plot that got involved in the fluff a few chapters ago. Thank you @headcanonheadcase and @shadowsxgwynriel for being part of the reason why this fic has gotten this far ♥

Synopsis: The Princess and the Knight find out about the Count's plan to separate them.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warning: A tiny bit of blood 👌

Read the previous chapter here

Read on Ao3 here

While the princess and her knight had been walking on clouds for the past few weeks, far from the castle, someone had been scheming to put an end to their bliss. The Count of Windhaven thought he was being discreet, but Balthazar, his nephew and the next in line to inherit the title should Devlon fail to have his own children, had picked up on his uncle’s doings. His suspicions were confirmed when the young man sneaked into the Count’s office one night and found the letters he was planning on sending to some individuals with more than questionable reputation throughout the kingdom. He was shocked to find out the outrageous plan that Devlon had come up with. The Count was promising a handsome amount of money to whoever would kill Sir Azriel, kidnap the princess and open the opportunity for him to save her.

Balthazar was aware of his uncle’s attempt to woo the princess of Sangravah. He had also heard of the rumours about her and the famous knight. And judging by how furious Devlon looked after returning from the castle the other day, he suspected that the Count’s meeting with the princess had not been a success. However, the letters that Balthazar had found were proof of those rumours and of Devlon’s willingness to do anything to achieve his goals.

Tired of his uncle’s cruel intentions and constant plotting, Balthazar took the letters and hid them in his coat. Thanks to the late hour, the halls of the manor were still empty when he exited the office. The next morning after breakfast, before Devlon could go to his office and find his letters missing, Balthazar was on his way to the castle to hand the condemning evidence to the princess herself.

......

An hour later, Balthazar rode back to Windhaven, followed by Sir Azriel and a few other knights. Her Highness had been surprised at the urgency of the young lord when he had requested an audience with her this early. But her shock was even greater as she opened all the letters and read their content. The princess had sent for the Queen and the knight to join them in her office and together, they had quickly agreed on the next step to be taken.

The closer they got to Windhaven, the more rage Azriel felt for the count. He had always known Devlon to be a cold and calculating man. But to stoop this low was pathetic. What enraged him more was not the man’s plan to get him out of the picture. Devlon did not know how hard it would be for anyone to get Azriel out of Gwyneth’s life at this point. The only one who could push Azriel away was the princess herself. What made his blood boil even more were his plans to harm Gwyneth in order to save her and come out of it as her saviour. The thought of that fool even thinking about touching a hair of his Gwyneth made Azriel tighten his hold on the reins of his white mare and urged Isis to go faster.

In less time than it had ever taken Balthazar to travel from the Capital to Windhaven, they all reached the Count’s manor and dismounted their horses as soon as they stopped. As he led them inside, the young lord prayed that Devlon was still there. He let out a sigh of relief when Sir Cassian almost ripped the door to Devlon’s office open and they found the man inside, scrambling through his drawers like a madman.

‘’What is the meaning of all this?’’ the count spat at the intrusion.

‘’Count Devlon,’’ Azriel said in a tone as cold as the man who stood before him, ‘’you are being arrested and must thus be immediately brought to the castle.’’

Devlon looked at everyone with a disgusted face. ‘’What is this farce?’’

‘’Listen you fucking prick,’’ Balthazar feared that the calm in Sir Azriel’s tone meant that the knight was close to losing his patience. ‘’We have evidence that you were trying to endanger the princess’ life. So I suggest you don’t waste our time and come willingly.’’

‘’You were also plotting to have a protector of the crown assassinated,’’ another knight added while pointing at Azriel.

The Count’s light brown skin seemed to turn paler after every word uttered against him. He looked at everyone around the room until his gaze settled on his nephew. Balthazar had been on the receiving end of his uncle’s angry glare so often that it had stopped fazing him a long time ago.

‘’You,’’ Devlon seethed at him, ‘’this is all your doing, isn't it? You are trying to put false charges against me.’’

Balthazar scoffed, not at all impressed by the count’s weak attempts to get out of this situation. ‘’Do you have anything to say about those letters you had in here dear uncle?’’

Devlon raised his chin as if it would make him the tallest one in the room. ‘’I am the count. I will owe you an explanation only when you rise above me.’’

Cassian snickered. ‘’That will probably happen sooner than you think.’’

Growing tired of the ridiculously long time that this was taking, Azriel stepped towards the count, ready to drag him to the castle by the hair if he needed to. As soon as he grabbed him by the arm, Devlon took a paper opener from his desk and sliced it across the knight’s fingers. Azriel released him with a hiss and looked at his hand. The object was only sharp enough to cut the surface of his skin.

When he looked up, the other knights had walked closer to them and the Count was brandishing the paper opener at him like a knife. ‘’I will not fall into this trap. It is clear that my nephew and you are conspiring against me.’’

Azriel narrowed his eyes at him. The count was sticking to his act. Though his lies were only making the knight despise him even more. With the evidence that they had, nothing Devlon said would prove his innocence. His ramblings were only delaying his punishment.

One moment the Count was talking loudly, accusing them of trying to taint his image, and the next, Sir Azriel’s fist was connecting with his face so hard that the sound of cracking bone echoed in the room. Balthazar’s eyes widened when he saw his uncle on the floor covering his bloody nose with a trembling hand. The sight was almost as satisfying as if he had punched the man himself.

The knight walked towards to count, grabbed him by collar and almost dragged him out of the room. Gone was the arrogant man who always thought that he could get away with anything. And for the third time that day, Balthazar mounted his horse, and followed the knights back to the Capital.

......

Gwyn had been nervous since Azriel left for Windhaven. She was confident that the knights would find the Count and bring him here. What worried her were the content of the letters that Lord Balthazar brought to her this morning. What if Devlon had already sent some of these letters? The Princess thought as she nervously paced around her tea room. What if there were already some people out there waiting to harm Azriel?

“Relax. Everything will be fine,” Emerie interrupted her incessant thoughts.

Gwyn was glad to have her friends with her. She had preferred to stay here with Nesta and Emerie instead of staying in her mother’s office and listen to Aurelia find an infinite number of insults to call the Count. If anyone hated Devlon more than her at this moment, it was her aunt. Except of course Azriel. He was almost fuming with rage when he had left for Windhaven hours ago. What if –

“They are coming,” Nesta exclaimed from where she was standing by the window.

Gwyn ran to look for herself and saw the six horses approaching as fast as ever. As soon as she spotted him, Gwyn rushed out of the room. She did not even hear Nesta and Emerie running after, asking her to wait. She would only stop once she was certain that Azriel was fine.

The knights stopped right in front of the steps leading to the castle. Devlon was still clutching his face as if his whole head was about to fall off. Azriel would not mind if it did. Just when he was about to grab the Count to drag him inside, he heard someone shout his name. Everyone turned around to look towards the castle and Azriel saw Gwyneth running down the stairs as if the place was on fire.

He reached the bottom of the stairs when she jump the last few steps and threw herself on him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and burying her face in the crook of his neck. Someone else would have probably fall back from the force with which Gwyn crashed on him. But Azriel stood strong and just wrapped her in his arms and lifted her from the ground.

When Emerie and Nesta finally reached the door of the castle, both panting from their run, they saw Gwyn and her knight lost in their embrace, unaware that all the knights and the surrounding staff were staring at them with wide eyes and open mouths.

Too soon, Azriel placed her down on her feet. “Are you okay?” Without wasting time, Gwyn started to inspect him, going as far as turning his head to look for any scratch.

Azriel snorted. “I’m okay.” Apparently that was not enough for her and she moved from his face to his hands.

“You better not be lying to me. Are you hurt?”

She was about to say something when she saw the cut on his hand but Azriel stopped her by taking both of her hands in his.

“I’m fine,” he told her with a smile. “And I’m doing much better now.” Azriel brought her hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

Relief flooded through her at the reassurance that he was alright. “I was so worried about you.”

“Did you doubt my abilities Princess?” he smirked. “I’m tougher than you give me credit for.”

She smacked his armoured chest at his playful tone. “Don’t start making jokes. I was really worried.”

The pout of her lips and the way her nose scrunched in annoyance was so adorable and funny that Azriel could not help but laugh.

“I’m sorry,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers when she kept frowning up at him.

Gwyn sighed. He had nothing to apologise for. And maybe she had been overreacting a little. “Don’t be. I’m just relieved that you are safe.”

The sound of someone moaning in pain pierced Gwyn and Azriel’s bubble and she froze as she realised that they were not alone all this time. When she looked over his shoulder, she saw that several people had stopped what they were doing to watch them. Lord Balthazar and the knights were still standing next to their horses with the Count.

All embarrassment left her at the sight of Count Devlon with his clearly crooked and bleeding nose. Gwyn did not care anymore about anyone seeing her with her knight. She had other things to deal with right now. She took a few steps back and stared at the Count. “Bring him in,” she then ordered.

[ko-the-kreator]

I compared their heights and my boy is so small he's just slightly over half ur boys height, gawd ur boy is tol

I love it, absolutely love it

Just imagining Ezy threatening anyone who tries to hurt the man who dwarfs him lmao

Bro looks like a chihuahua next to him, i can't JDJDDJDJ

I am imagining this and I cannot stop laughing. Oh my jesus, how tall is the fluffy boi? I’m going to guess like 6’0? My lord? Pfffffft. HAHA.

He be so tiny. Thank goodness you did a size comparison this helps me a lot with the animatic. AND THE LORE.

I just expanded and updated it.

So hear me out.

Aspen, the human that got all caught up in a demon deal, descends and wakes up in the In Between.

She wanders the large city, and ends up in Devil’s Keep. The only thing is -she glows like a damn light bulb because she still has a soul and a bright one at that. This sweet bb is just like…🥺. Since it is always night down below, well Aspen doesn’t know yet, she wanders into Sin City Bar, where she realizes that its patrons are all dead, or demons. And this glowing entity of a human just strolls right in. Right up to the bar where she is greeted by Mellie, an antlered girl who immediately takes notice of Aspen’s whole ass predicament.

Since the boss is in his office (Bernard) she is really biting her fist on this one, should Mellie really bother the boss? So she gets the next possible thing.

The twins.

Which wasn’t the best idea and Aspen is ran out of the bar and back out onto the street in a fit of terror.

Switching to Bernard’s POV the bar is still booming and he decided to take a smoke outside at the back of the building.

He begins to notice he may not be alone. He calls out to whoever may have been out there, he wouldn’t be surprised to get into a fight out here, but it was best to be careful.

[yeah, really Bernie? You having to be careful-ooh wait I forgot Arthur Demose kicked your ass but what that was like back in 1919 or some shit]

So he calls out while he drags in smoke from the cigarette. And then Aspen comes from the shadows, glowing so brightly that he has to shield his eyes. At first he is like “Holy Hell, why is there an angel in the in between?” But then he sees that Aspen is not in fact an angel, but a human.

One that was still alive.

And not supposed to be here.

It clicks that if anyone gets their hands on them its over for a life that wasn’t quite done yet.

“Hey uh, you? How’d you get all the way down here?” And Aspen looks up at him with the most innocent look.”

And she tells him she doesn’t know-one minute she’s helping a girl on the street from being mugged the next thing she knows she’s down here.

He eventually helps her inside his bar, clearing it out and shooing out customers. Bernard is doing everything in his power to make sure no one saw her. Even though she has already entered the bar from earlier.

He shrugs off the coat he has on because -fashion and throws it over the too of her, carrying her into the bar.

Mellie points “is that?”

“Yes.”

“We are in way over our heads.”

The twins are of no help since they high tailed it out of sight before he got in.

So the only other option is to…get the help of another damn nephalem. The only other one Bernard could think of was Ezekiel since most took to Topside with the other fluffy winged bois.

[this is where your boi comes into the lore- think about it]

Ezekiel lived way out of the city, on the outskirts in The Ruins. They were from the war there, about a century or three ago. Bernard couldn’t remember-too much fighting for him anyway.

[enter your lore here about Ezy]

Anyway ends up helping to get the girl back home, but they’d have to get the help of Elder Asphodel . By the time they travel to meet the elder demon to send the young girl back the first thing that happens is that Demose sends his demons to search for the living soul that was in the in between. He has never seen a soul that strong nor bright.

And he wants it.

The second thing hey have a weird encounter with a soul of a man, in which hitches a ride back to the human world alongside Mellie, Ezy, Bernard and Aspen.

Elder Asphodel is a nice grandpa character :)

[“Oh dear,” The old elder frowns, stepping down from his flowered throne. “You poor young lady…you must’ve been terrified.” 10/10 would braid flowers into her hair]

They send Aspen back and put her back where she came from. But as soon as they get her there.

They have to erase her memory, so that she can never know about the other realm.

Which is sad of course? Right?

Really sad. So she knows its better this way. And for the sake of her parents and their human lives, its best if this happens. Its not really a heartfelt moment. But they all say their goodbyes and were on their way before anyone saw them.

Except they can’t leave.

The In Between closed their doors, and now every single thing that Bernard feared at that moment just happened. They call upon The Elder Asphodel and their is basically nothing but static from the other side.

The four beings Bernard, Ezy Mellie and the Lost Soul are all trapped in the human world.

And that fucking sucks.

Not only that Mr Asshole himself, Arthur Demose is tearing through the void with his little team of demons going after that one strong soul. And he will do everything in his power to get it.

As for Bernard and the others? They gotta do something. Anything to get them back home. This is worse than anything that could have happened to a demon.

Worse than Hell itself.

However, they choose to head back to Aspen, knowing that if they couldn’t get home, she was going to remember them.

And good to know she did, but when they show back up-some shit goes down and now its a roadtrip to get four other worldly beings back home before the ruler of one of those realms destroys Aspens world.

That’s all the basic need to know lore for right now.

[sorry for it being so long lmfaoooo we can brainstorm Ezy and Mellie’s story too if ya’ll want XD] @mellietanya1456

[mikumoroll]

here's some resources specifically for my fellow gulf coast-ers in the tampa bay area!!!

most important: search something like "[county name] hurricane milton" and odds of finding resources for you and your area are very high.

also if you just want no-nonsense coverage of this storm — highly recommend abc action news/denis phillips. they stream live for free during any storm online and also broadcast over radio (can't remember the stations off the top of my head tho). tropical tidbits is also a really good one, albeit he doesn't do any live forecasting; dr. levi is and has been a reputable source for years now. so for live — abc action news. for daily updates and tracking, dr. levi/tropical tidbits.

also i think something really, really important to note is that — if you are not in a low-lying or coastal area, if you do not live in a mobile home/rv/tiny home/etv, if your house is built to post-hurricane andrew safety standards, if you are not under a mandatory evacuation, you can (LIKELY) SAFELY HUNKER DOWN/DO NOT NEED TO EVACUATE. listen to local authorities over me obviously, because, especially if you're potentially in the direct path of the storm, advice may be different, but if you're on the outer edges of the worst of it (like me, north of tampa) and not in an evac zone due to flooding risk, you may be encouraged to instead Hunker Down and ride it out.

yes, you may be without power for even a week or two— if you NEED power, especially for medical reasons, then absolutely consider a shelter or evacuating to family with a generator or out of the storm's path/a hotel further south or north outside the storm's path (if you can even find one atp). you also need to weigh in other factors like if there are any dangerous trees near your property that could fall on your home, if you have a safe place to shelter from those or during tornadoes, etc.

otherwise, an addage that rings true in moments like this: run from the water, hide from the wind.

sometimes all you need to do is go 10 miles inland. evacuating does not always (if ever) mean leave the state, or even your county.

yes this storm is absolutely serious, but with proper preparation you CAN be safe. you may not be having fun, and i deeply recommend anyone in the path of this storm to not go having a hurricane party, especially since landfall is going to be happening at night — but you can be safe. you can live. that's what matters.

in the words of our lord and savior and local icon denis phillips: rule #7 — don't panic! just breathe, think about what you need to do, and get it done.

feeling very frustrated about the ways people are talking about hurricane Milton. lots of needless, borderline fear mongering language with very little actual helpful information.

information about Milton that might ACTUALLY be helpful:

Hurricane Milton is shaping up to be the third strongest hurricane ever recorded.

Make sure you have an evacuation plan if the order is given or if you've already been told to leave.

there is also a code for free Ubers to evacuate effected counties, as well as shuttles from evacuating counties to nearby storm shelters

Prepare/secure your home

Find your nearest shelter and be prepared to leave

If you want to stay in the loop about the hurricane, WESH 2 News has ongoing coverage ad-free on YouTube.

General resources/information:

Please for the love of God stop preying on people's fears and causing panic. Know what resources are available to you and how to access them. If you approach this hurricane carefully YOU WILL BE OKAY!!!!! YOUR LIFE DOES NOT HAVE TO BE RUINED!!!

Please link other resources you find or think other people might find useful!

[weixuldo]

The Sith Lord’s Ingénue

vader x reader/ ch 2

(A/N: Sorry this chapter has taken a min, first week of classes was really busy!! i’ll try to update this as quick as i can though!! i really enjoy poto and sw, so i love crossing them!! as always thanks u for being here!)

you arrive in the executor and have a strange encounter.

warnings: obsessive behavior, stalking?, yandere themes, cursing. bad writing lol.

wc: 1444

_________________________________________

You woke to your alarm buzzing loudly at your bedside. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes you pushed yourself up and yawned.

Last night was terrifying, but this was just how things in the empire were. Your life was in danger everyday, there wasn’t much you could do about it. You slid out of bed and began your morning routine.

Once you were dressed you took a minute to look at yourself in the mirror. Your hair was neatly tucked under the cap of your uniform, the dark belt hugged your waist tightly, and the imperial crest on your chest shone brightly.

You looked like everyone else in the damned facility. You felt discouraged, you worked so hard to get to the top, now you were back to being on the bottom, you were just some transfer from Naboo, how were they going to take your ideas seriously?

You sighed and grabbed the small letter off of your dresser. Before stepping out of the room you saw another small envelope at the entrance of your door. You picked it up and felt something inside. Slowly, you broke the seal and peered into the envelope. There was a single pressed black rose with a silver ribbon hanging off the stem. __________________________________________The halls were domineering and dark, much like the owner of the ship. You followed the directions on the paper.

Left, right, go down two floors, turn left at the end of the hall.

You entered a spacious room centered around a large table. The surface of the table was translucent, like a light box. It was covered with plans and different architectural designs.

You brushed your hand along the clutter of paper when you heard the door open again. A man dressed like you walked in and found their place at your side.

“You must be the new transfer? We’ve heard alot about you”, his tone was more cheerful than you expected.

He introduced himself as one of your new coworkers and you smiled trying to figure out if what they heard about you was good or not.

“Yeah, I’m truly honored to be working on this project! I hope my architectural skills will hold up!” You offered, smiling at the man.

He nodded at you and began to show you around. He brought you to the space that would function as your office, it was a tiny but cozy room. The walls were a pristine white and there was a nicely sized mirror facing your desk. You and your coworker sat down at the desk to get you set up and go over some plans.

While the man in front of you occupied himself, updating the database of your computer, you took a moment to fix your hair in the mirror.

On the other side of the glass, a Sith Lord admired your beauty. Darth Vader stood on the opposite side of the two way mirror in a room he had specifically crafted for this exact reason.

He wanted to have eyes on his darling at all times. He needed to know you were safe.

That’s all.

He was just protecting you.

For months he had been guiding and getting to know you. In the beginning he reached out solely for amusement, but as he watched you more, your ways enthralled him.

He became infatuated with you.

He began to make more routine trips to the Naboo base because he wanted to see you. There really was no other reason, that base was operating fine, and everyone was doing their jobs. But he needed to see you.

He took note of the way you wrote, the way you spoke, the way you fiddled with your fingers when you were nervous, the way your eyes lit up when someone complimented one of your designs.

He took note of you.

He knew he needed to have you, so he helped you the only way he could think of, with his guidance.

Years ago, he offered his guidance to Ashoka and now he would give it to you. Though this time he would make sure his pupil stayed.

He wanted nothing more to have you all to himself, but you weren’t even aware of who “V” really was. Maybe it was better that way…

What if he scared you off? What then? He would suffer not only a loss to the empire, but also a broken heart. These past months you had consumed him, his whole being, what would he do without you?

He shook the thoughts from his head and returned to observing you.

_________________________________________

The other man finally left the room and only you were left in the office. You began to pull up documents and architectural software when you felt an odd sensation run up your spine. You looked around the small room, it felt like someone was watching you.

You swiftly opened the door to peek out into the hall, no one.

You gently slid the door shut once more and went to the mirror to examine your face. Your eyes were slightly glassy and you had bags under your eyes.

You rested your head against the frame of the mirror and touched the cool surface where your reflection met your fingers. Maker, you were exhausted, maybe you were just imagining things.

On the other side of the glass Vader watched intently as you examined your appearance. He was practically burning with desire, you were so close to him.

Once you leaned against the cool surface he hovered a gloved palm against the mirror. He gently placed his fingers against yours, only separated by the thin shield of glass. The small room he was in filled only with the sounds of his respirator.

He created a force bond between the two of you, using the little light force he had left. He wanted you to sense him. His heart raced as he watched your expression change once you felt him. You were magnificent.

The sensation you felt touched deep within your soul, you knew it was him. Your mentor... He was here.

You couldn’t quite explain the emotions you were feeling, you felt such a yearning to meet him, yet a cloud of dread pooled over you. Something was off, but you just couldn’t stop your curiosity.

“Hello? I know you’re there, I can feel you.” you wanted to meet him, you wanted to thank him.

Hidden behind the tinted barrier Vader’s mind raced, should he show himself to you?

“Please, say something”

Would you be frightened of him?

“You can show yourself to me, I trust you” you said, his letters had guided you, they were never malicious or tricked you.

Hearing your words made his nerves calm.

You trusted him.

__________________________________________

A few moments passed with no response, you shook your head in defeat. You felt disheartened that your mentor wouldn’t show himself to you, but you respected his wishes. As you headed for the door you heard a deep mechanical voice,

“My dear, do you truly wish to know me?”

Your breath hitched hearing his voice. You knew that voice, it belonged to the feared sith Lord who owned the vessel. Could this be happening?

“I hear you, please… speak, I’ll listen” you said, a desperate tone to your soft voice.

Your mind was racing, everything was making sense now. Why Darth Vader began routinely coming to the Naboo base, how you got the job working on the executor, the “V” signature.

He watched your expression change as you began to realize who he was. Was he about to lose you?

“You see why I hide in the shadows”

You couldn’t believe it, your wise, caring, and loving mentor was one of the most feared men in the galaxy. You shook your head, no, you needed to see it for yourself.

“I want to see you,” you said, looking around the room.

He couldn’t deny his sweet Angel.

“Look at your face in the mirror, I am here, inside” he said slowly.

He took a deep breath before slowly lighting the room he was in. The lights brightened the space behind the mirror and you could make out his figure.

Maker, it really was him.

He flipped another switch and the mirror began to rise up to reveal a doorway. No longer separated by a barrier of glass, you looked upon him.

He was glorious, no matter the premonitions the galaxy had, in that moment all you saw was your wise mentor.

He towered over you, dark armor catching the glimmer of the lights, his dark robes pooling at your feet. You were completely enthralled with him.

Vader extended a gloved hand to you, “Come to me, my Angel”.

You took his hand and he gently tightened his grip on you before leading you away from your room.

You accepted him,

you were his.

***

(a/n: so this chapter was heavily inspired by the mirror scene in poto… im probably gonna continue the story with less in your face influence and take the story form just being a poto retelling. I’m going to start driving away from poto influence prob in the next chapters)

taglist: @heyitsaloy , @sxoulchvn, @joossieisdabomb, @wierdstrangee

[phoenixyfriend]

Time Travel ft. Leia and Vader

(Helped by @atagotiak)

I was reading a bunch of different time travel fics, and my brain slotted in that one "Vader hands over the Empire to Leia and is now her most devoted sycophant" dynamic and mixed it with the "Luke and Vader time-travel and Vader does the right thing but only because it would make Luke sad if he didn't."

I landed on "Leia time travels to prequels era, but her least favorite family member has also traveled with her, though it takes him a few months to find her because he has less resources without the entire Imperial Navy, but he's still a scary Sith in all black with a breathing mask and intimidating cape."

"Tiny angry lady who wants to force democracy and her giant Sith father whom she hates but has resigned herself to pointing at threats like a tank who inexplicably loves her" is a delightful dynamic.

The first few months included a lot of concern about "why do you know so much about Sith if you're not trained or looking to be one" and then Vader shows up and calls her 'daughter' and she insults him and it's like "Oh. That explains it."

Council Member: We have a Sith in the Temple. Vader: Former Sith. Leia: Listen. He is your best chance against Sidious. Also, do you want Dooku dead? Vader can make him dead. Council Member: Your father i-- Leia, scrunching up her face: Don't call him that.

Like Leia is deep in conversation when the Temple starts panicking because Vader just. Showed up? He snuck in, somehow? So Palpatine wouldn't catch him on video entering through the front door? And people try to keep her away from the trouble, because there's an entire array of Jedi Masters to deal with this Surprise Sith, except she can sense exactly which Sith it is and once she shouts "oh you have got to be kidding me!" she just starts running and, well, it's Leia. Nobody can stop her.

(Leia does have less combat training, at least less force-assisted combat training, than the Jedi. But then the Jedi don’t want to hurt here here. She's not fighting her way down, either, she's just running really fast and all the best fighters already left. They had a head start. So Leia's mostly running past random padawans and the like.)

She shoves her way to the front of the group of Masters who. Well, they're certainly ready to attack. But Vader is just standing there. Doing nothing. Still intimidating as fuck but he's not doing anything.

And then Leia bursts onto the scene like "You motherfucker."

She hits her head on a clipboard and whines because UGH he's a walking WMD and they could REALLY use him against Palpatine but also. She hates him so much.

She tries to hand him off to the Jedi council but he insists that he will only take orders from Leia herself.

Jedi: Wait, what. Leia, completely ignoring them: Did you follow me here? Vader, through the mechanical wheezing: I have no loyalty to my master and no empire to serve. You are all that I have left. Leia: Me? Me? I'm all that you have left? You committed a genocide that killed all the family I had except for the twin brother you later mutilated! Jedi: Wait what Vader, going to one knee: I pledge my loyalty and blade to you and only you, daughter. Leia, ready to explode: I. I just. Jedi, some of whom really want to say things but are slowly realizing that they just accidentally acquired a Sith Lord by proxy: What. Leia: I hate you so much but I can't even get rid of you, you're too useful. Vader: I live to serve. Leia: Yeah. Got that. Fuck. Someone get him a full medical rundown, I don't know the last time that mess of a life support system was updated. Jedi, agitated again: WHAT Leia: Listen, I don't like him, but I'm not stupid enough to throw away the second most dangerous person in the universe when I can point him at the most dangerous person in the universe. Especially not if he's going to listen to me. Jedi: But... he's a Sith. Leia: Please trust me when I say this: you might be able to take him down eventually, but he will take dozens of you down with him, and right now he's... honestly, I'm pretty sure he's more depressed than malicious. Jedi: You hate him. I can feel it. Leia: Yes, but I can be professional about it. Vader: They have not yet d-- Leia: Nope! No talking! Not until I've had a chance to process this mess!

There is a whole lot of Leia snapping at Vader to stop it whenever he starts giving off vibes like he wants to take the most violent shortcut possible.

She is not the gentle hand that Luke would be.

Leia isn't a Jedi or working for them but she's wormed her way into being an ally. They don't 100% trust her, especially not with Vader just showing up and declaring her family but like

How do you say no to a WMD walking into your house and saying "I will fight the monster you cower from at night."

There's a lot of Leia snapping off an admonishment that sounds just a little too odd and then when questioned she just says "He knows what he did."

tbh I'm not sure how long it takes for them to tell anyone that Anakin is Vader. They might hold it off in hopes that Anakin can just retire to be Mr. Amidala after the war is over.

Well, Leia hopes. Vader just lets Leia make that call and then glowers at his younger self every time they're in the same room.

I do feel like Leia tells Obi-Wan the truth first

Imagine. Imagine a Vader who’s past still isn’t known. But has gotten somewhat comfortable around the Jedi (not really but the bar for what counts and comfortable for him is low). And Obi-Wan habitually banters with darksiders, right? If Vader’s guard is down for a moment and he, without thinking, references an inside joke...

Might be the most fun in terms of ways to tell Obi-Wan "We're time travelers and Vader is what happens if you let Palpatine drive Anakin off the edge"

If Vader has decided to pledge himself to her orders after destroying her planet, then fine. She can work with that. She's not going to be happy about it, but she can make it work.

The Jedi Temple hates having Vader anywhere nearby but he is actually very good at hiding himself from people, including Palpatine And for all that Leia seems perpetually irritated with her apparent bodyguard, he does seem to listen to her.

Jedi council: We still haven't figured out how to handle Dooku Leia: Do you know his location? Jedi council: Yes. Leia: [sigh] Leia: Vader, deal with it. Alive if possible.

(Leia does need to clarify an acceptable level of violence against the people protecting Dooku.) (She needs to clarify... many things.)

Leia always says "Vader" and one time a poor fool just asks why she doesn't call him dad and she snarls out "He is not the man that raised me, and I am glad for it."

Someone less foolish later prods more compassionately and she lets them know she was adopted and didn't properly meet Vader except in passing until she was nineteen.

"And then he tortured you." "And then he tortured me, yes." "Damn." "Didn't even find out we were related until a few years later when he chopped my brother's arm off." "You... wow." "I know."

At least one exchange that is L: You mean when you tortured me? A: He did what. V: I was not aware of our relation at that time. L: Not the point! I am fully aware of your interrogation methods and I refuse to let you be the one to acquire the evidence for-- A: Wait no go back he tortured you? L: Move on, please, we already have. A: That means I'm... oh Force, I'm going to torture my own daughter what in the actual fu-- L: We're moving on.

(“I end up torturing my own daughter” If Leia’s feeling especially spiteful I can see her saying “you mutilate your own son too”)

Concept: Leia is very free with traumatizing details of her past re:Vader and Anakin thinks that it sucks but doesn’t think much of it bc Sith. And then some time later he finds out...

(I love characters who use the traumatizing details of their past to shut down conversations.)

It's such a wonderfully horrifying concept for him to try to awkwardly comfort this girl he kind of knows because having a Sith for a dad sounds like it would suck and Leia seems nice, even if she's kind of weird and uncomfortable around Anakin, but he saw her flinch around a few other tall people wearing black robes the way she stiffens around Vader so maybe it's just that!

It is not.

Vader does get a significant amount of medical treatment. Including a bunch of "holy shit, that's a lot of drugs" and similar. There is so much lightning damage.

hnnng I'm just really in love with the image of Tiny Tiny Leia sitting behind a desk for some fancy negotiation, the picture of professionalism, while Vader just stands behind her shoulder, looming, glaring expressionless death at whoever came to speak with his baby girl.

Not that he would call her that, because she'd just hate him more and he's really not sure how to fix that problem, other than doing whatever she asks with no complaints and hoping she appreciates it.

Vader: [looks at children wandering by, has complicated emotions] Leia, tired of his shit: What now? Vader: I killed them, once. Leia, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath: And you're not going to do that again. No killing children. Vader: I know that. Leia: Great. I am... regretting asking. I am so very much regretting asking.

I do really like the idea of someone asking Leia once if she wants Jedi training and she says, no, actually, she's fully aware of the fact that she's angry little ball of hate sometimes, especially towards her bio father, and she'd like to refrain from putting herself in a position where she knows enough about the Force to Fall. She wouldn't Fall. But it does make people shut up.

[tinyhistory]

Hey! Love your stories so much I just had to ask! Do you have any favorite drarry authors/stories? I sometimes compare the quality of other stories to ROA (oops!) because ROA is just that good. My personal favorites are ROA (of course!), the Foundations Series (saras_girl), the ordeal of being known (louisfake), denouement (the_never_was), Good to Me (And I'd Be So Good to You) (AWickedMemory), and To Hurt and Heal (cassisluna). Have you read these? Have a wonderful day! :)

Thank you, so glad you’ve enjoyed my stories! And thank you for so patiently waiting for a reply. I haven’t been online much in the past couple of weeks. Unfortunately I haven’t read any of your recs, but I’m always happy to add another fic to my to-read list.

I did a rec post a few months ago, but I’ll post an updated version now. The Skyhawke Archives appear to be down, which is crushing news. I’ve had to update a lot of the links.

So here are my favourite Drarry fanfics:

And We Are At Our Apogee (PG-13) by angelgazing

Summary: Draco wanted revenge, but it didn't work out that way.

My notes: Californian beaches, supermarkets, road trips, and a bittersweet ending.

-

A Reckless State of Mind (T) by Lomonaaeren

Summary: Draco is a Psyche-Diver, and his newest patient is Auror Potter, who’s been a pathological liar for over a year—and has just tried to violently end his own life.

Notes: The plot alone guarantees inclusion on this list. Probably the most creative fic I’ve ever read, and the twists and turns will keep you guessing.

-

Berlin, In the Year of Our Lord (PG) by Are

Summary: Harry is a green-tea addict. Draco stalks him.

Notes: Probably my all-time favourite fic, along with Blue Vase. It’s sparse and minimal and I love that writing style.

-

Blue Vase (M) by ivyblossom

Summary: Let’s pretend.

Notes: Draco finds an amnesiac Harry and befriends him, pretending they were once lovers. It’s pensive, short, and bittersweet.

-

The Boy Who Only Lived Twice (E) by lettered

Summary: Harry Potter is an Unspeakable. Draco Malfoy is the wizard who shagged him. Adventure! Intrigue! Secret identities, celebrities, spies! It's all right here, folks.

Notes: Action-heavy fics are damn hard to write, but lettered nails it. The action scenes are breakneck speed, the conversations are threaded with double meaning, and even the silences are tense.

-

Draco in Darkness (T) by Plumeria47.

Summary: Following an accident in his seventh year, Draco loses his eyesight.

Notes: This is one of the first fics I ever read (when it was over on FF in 2003) so it’s probably here just for nostalgia points alone. I read it when I was a kid and just thought it was a lovely golden fairytale, the best romance I’d ever read in my (very short, thus far) life. I love reading it again, even years later as an adult when I can see the tarnish on it; the things my childhood eyes didn’t notice. I don’t care. It’s my soft and fuzzy comfort fic.

-

The Flesh is Frail (NC-17) by wildestranger

Summary: None

Notes: Draco has injuries from curses and spells, and Harry keeps him company. Draco is angry; Harry is stubborn. They argue their way into a grudging relationship. It’s a short read and well worth your ten minutes.

-

Good-bye to Yesterday (NC-17) by furiosity

Summary: Draco felt ready to face even a million years in Azkaban as long as it meant that at the end of it all, he would make Potter pay.

Notes: It’s not a dark fic, but it certainly dips in and out of the shadows. If you like your romance to be sharp as a razor and bitter as black coffee, give it a read.

-

Hymn to Color (PG) by Lomonaaeren

Summary: Months after Draco cast a curse that took Harry’s eyesight, Harry is still trying to come to terms with it. Draco still wanted forgiveness, which was probably the problem.

Notes: Probably my very inadequate idea of “fluff”. It’s a quiet, introspective fic. Draco and Harry are well-written.

-

Kings among runaways (PG) by enderxenocide.

Summary: Later, the toast will be slightly overcooked, Draco will burn the eggs, and there will be another fist fight in-between the living room and the front door, but they’ll eat breakfast with second-hand plates and Draco’s great-grandmother’s silverware.

Notes: Dreamy descriptions, abstract scenes, and the characters are lovingly delineated. Beautiful writing.

-

On Broken Glass (PG-13) by coffeejunkii

Summary: After the final battle, Draco is holding the shards that are left of his and Harry’s life.

Notes: Established relationship. Harry’s forgetful and seems to suffer both short-term and long-term memory loss; Draco stays by his side through six years of post-war amnesia. Very short, just a tiny ficlet. There’s sequels (in bite-size pieces) but I prefer to read the first ficlet and leave it there.

-

Paper Dolls (M) by cupiscent

Summary: In the final year of the War, Draco gets a letter, makes a choice and pays the price.

Notes: Short, succinct, and packs a punch. No character deaths, in case the summary has you feeling nervous.

-

Portrait (PG-13) by Silent Blast

Summary: None.

Notes: Dorian Grey, but Drarry. Of course it’s going to be good.

-

Shattered (NC-17) by femmequixotic

Summary: One damned accident involving one too-lucky curse, and suddenly you'd think he was five again, with their Harry, be carefuls and their quick Levitating charms ready the instant the potion gives way and his rebelling hands lose hold of whatever's in their grasp.

Notes: Draco’s an artist. Harry’s intrigued by his sculptures and paintings.

-

Snatch (PG-13) by didntyoupotter

Summary: Harry is comatose, Hermione and Ron aren’t much help, and Draco isn’t sure about anything anymore.

Notes: The opening scene fools you into thinking this will be a light read with a streak of good humour. Don’t fall for it. By the third act, you’ll be hanging onto every word and feeling a lot of emotions. Also, back in the day, this was one of the Draco/Harry fics. Everyone knew of it. Pay your respects to your fandom history and read this beloved classic.

-

The Stages of Acceptance (T) by Lomonaaeren.

Summary: Harry, already happily married to Ginny, receives the news that he's Draco's mate. Law and custom don't give him the option of ignoring the news. The stages of his reaction, one by one.

Notes: This is not a romance, and I love that the author just casually chucks all the Veela tropes in the bin and says “nope”. In Lomonaaeren’s own words, this fic is more practical than romantic. Harry is unfamiliar with the Veela concepts and hates the very idea of being “shackled” to someone; he rejects Draco at once. Draco is miserable and lonely. They do eventually come to understand each other better, but it’s a huge struggle with lots of setbacks. The general air of pessimism and misery does make the small glimpses of compassion and empathy feel so well-earned. I love a fic that rations out its happiness.

-

The Stately Homes of Wiltshire (E) by waspabi

Summary: Malfoy Manor has mould, dry rot and an infestation of unusually historical poltergeists. Harry Potter is on the case.

Notes: This one needs no introduction. The writing is polished, the characterisation perfect, and the dialogue is fun. I love the humour woven throughout it.

-

Then Comes a Mist and a Weeping Rain (E) by faithwood.

Summary: It always rains for Draco Malfoy. Metaphorically. And literally. Ever since he had accidentally Conjured a cloud. A cloud that's ever so cross.

Notes: Another one that most of us know. It’s a lighthearted and fun read.

-

Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow (M) by novembersnow

Summary: In the war-torn years after Hogwarts, one man has no knowledge of his yesterdays.

Notes: Another classic back in the feverish heyday of the Harry Potter fandom, when books were still being released and everyone had worked themselves up into a shipping frenzy. And no wonder this fic was an instant hit. Draco has lost all his memories and Harry’s investigating as an Auror, but the longer you read, the more you start questioning everything. Good twists and turns that lead to a tender ending.

-

Turn by Saras_Girl

Summary: One good turn always deserves another. Apparently.

Notes: An inevitable inclusion on any favourites list. I think my favourite thing about it is the characterisation. Everyone is so well-rounded; the characters are brought to life and feel like old friends. All their habits, styles, mannerisms, even the way they walk or talk. While I love everyone in this fic, I have to admit that Blaise is just amazing. Of all the thousands of Blaises imagined by fanfic writers, I love this one the best. “Old bean” indeed.

-

Under the Ivy (PG-13) by coffeejunkii

Summary: It is impressive how much you can learn about someone by simply sharing a few rooms. They don’t spend time together, not really, but Harry still knows that Malfoy prefers raspberry jam over strawberry, that he hums along to the Wireless when he thinks no one is around, and that his leg is bothering him more than usual when the temperatures drop below freezing.

Notes: Another old, old favourite of mine. It’s like snuggling into a soft blanket. Remus owns a cottage and Harry moves in after the war. Later, Remus lets a room to Draco, who is an outcast after the war and has limited housing options. Harry isn’t happy at first with the new lodger, but he eventually warms up to Draco. A slow and gentle romance.

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Vale Sanare (M) by rurounihime

Summary: Draco’s world gains a new component, just when he thought he’d sorted everything out.

Notes: London nightclubs, one-night-stands, loud music and lonely nights. Draco has seizures due to a curse from the war, and the seizures have led to a fear of intimacy. Short and sweet.

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The Way Down (T) by lettered

Summary: Malfoy’s all, “Come out of there,” the way you say to a cat who is badly behaved. And Harry’s all like, “No, what, I’m a hermit! And I have a chest-monster! And I am crazy magically powerful!” and Malfoy’s all, “We all have problems, bub.” (thoughtfully) “You are crazy though. I’ll give you that.”

Notes: I just adore this fic. The fic starts well-grounded, giving you a solid backstory and matter-of-fact context, but as it goes on, it slowly unravels into dreamy scenes, lush settings, and repeated motifs. It’s just such a beautiful story.

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When Love beckons to you, follow him (PG-13) by megyal

Summary: Draco wakes up, lost, somewhere in a forest. He has no idea where he is or how he got there. As he is blundering around trying to find his way home, he hears Harry's voice in his head, telling him what to do.

Notes: I generally like my fics to be bittersweet or with a bit of heartache — but this fic is just a little cloud of softness. If you need something light and lovely without being syrupy-sweet, this is a good choice!

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The World of the Living (M) by fourth_rose

Summary: A traumatised war hero and a convicted criminal under the roof of an eccentric journalist make for a rather odd ensemble, but Luna has never had a problem with oddities as long as they make sense.

Notes: The story is told from Luna’s perspective, which gives everything a lovely dreamy quality. She takes in a couple of strays after the war — first Harry, who is avoiding his other friends and has quit his Auror job — and then she offers a room to Draco right after his trial. Draco is rude, angry, and ungrateful; Harry is churlish, withdrawn, and moody. Luna doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest, and over the course of the next few months, her house guests slowly warm up to each other.

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Voices From the Fog (E) by noeon

Summary: After years of running away, Harry crosses paths with an all-too familiar face and follows him to Amsterdam.

Notes: Harry drifts across Europe, trying to forget the war. He ends up in a woodworking shop in Amsterdam, alongside a moody Draco. Atmospheric settings and solid characterisation.

[somethingwritey]

How is the Rangshi long fic coming? Id love an update on ittttt!

Hello! I'm so glad you're still thinking about my Rangshi fic! It's currently around 20k at the moment—definitely getting a bit carried away!

Because you asked, here's another little out-of-context snippet ;)

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“Do you think the spirits would mind if I assassinated a world leader?”

Jinpa jerked his head up at the question, risking a glance behind him at her. Kyoshi knew she must be a sight to behold, laying out across the wide saddle and staring up at the darkening clouds. In her hands, she opened and closed a fan in time to her pounding pulse.

“I don’t think that’s listed as an Avatar duty,” Jinpa stammered, thoroughly taken aback by her proposal.

“Bummer.”

Jinpa was quiet for a few moments, no doubt trying to edge around the subject towards her reasoning. “I take it that meeting with the Fire Lord went… poorly?”

Kyoshi propped herself up on her elbows to stare him in the face. She hoped he could read how absolutely stupid that question had been. She’d emerged from the Fire Lord’s palace by stomping, causing tiny earthquakes as she marched over to the stables. That should’ve been indication enough.

“He’s out of control.” Kyoshi shivered—Rangi’s absence making itself very apparent just then; she could always be counted on for a little extra warmth while traveling.

Kyoshi went back to staring at the sky.

Zoryu’s words about the Firebender still echoed in her ears, doing more to chill her than the night air ever could. She wished she could put more distance between Rangi and the Fire Lord, despite being hidden away in Yokoya.

For a terrifying moment, she wondered if Zoryu somehow knew. If he could see the girl in her cotton shift, laid out on the infirmary bed with her hands knotted in the sheets. If he had discovered a way to look at the bruises on her face and the way her breath still rattled slightly whenever she breathed. Maybe this whole meeting had been a distraction, a diversion to take Kyoshi away from the infirmary and Rangi. Maybe, it was too late.

“Jinpa!” Kyoshi felt her heart pounding in her ears. “Fly faster!”

She worked herself up as they flew, imagining horrific scenes of injury and destruction—rivaling the iceberg or North Chung-Ling - only this time, it would absolutely be her fault. If anything happened to Rangi, the Flying Opera Company, even Hei-Ran and Atuat, she would be to blame.

Kyoshi gripped the edge of the saddle, her knuckles turning white from the effort. She watched the ground grow closer and closer as Yingyong spiralled into a descent. Her chest tightened with every drop in altitude, and once, she almost slipped over the edge and plummeted the last several feet to the ground.

“Quiet evening.” Jinpa seemed on the whole unaware of her own personal panic. He landed Yingyong with ease and dismounted, walking around the side of the bison to assist Kyoshi like he always did.

She didn’t wait for the monk to make it over to her. She tumbled from the saddle, falling hard onto the ground and scrambling back up to her feet.

“Kyoshi!” he yelled after her in disbelief.

She didn’t turn around, stumbling towards the infirmary to what she knew would be waiting for her. Blindly, she pushed open the door and tripped over the doorway, panting and gasping for air, to find -

No evidence of violence. No ransom note or bodies or trails of blood. Just Hei-Ran and Atuat sitting in a few chairs with bowls of noodles, with the rest of the Flying Opera Company still bedridden, but looking more vibrant than before. Even Rangi looked, on the whole, unchanged, propped up in bed. Someone had even taken the time to put her hair back up in its usual topknot.

“Well,” Hei-Ran said dryly, taking in Kyoshi’s haggard appearance. “Are you being pursued by wolfbats? Lion vultures? Spider snakes, perhaps?”

Kyoshi’s face flushed red, and she tried hard to catch her breath - smoothing down her skirts to remove the ruffles.

“Did the monk get eaten?” Atuat asked calmly, taking another bite of her noodles. Clearly, the two women were enjoying the joke at Kyoshi’s expense.

Rangi covered her mouth, looking as though she was trying to keep a straight face for Kyoshi’s sake and failing at it. Kyoshi glared at her.

“Not you, too.”

A little snort escaped Rangi’s fingers, and her eyes went wide.

“Some bison ride you must’ve had,” Kirmia ventured, surveying Kyoshi’s windswept state. “What did happen to that Airbender of yours?”

Kyoshi gestured out the door. “Probably unsaddling Yingyong,” she told them all, still somewhat out of breath. “I, uh, just needed to check something.”

“The Fire Lord put you on edge?” Hei-Ran put down her bowl of noodles, staring hard at Kyoshi.

She forced herself to look back calmly. The last thing she wanted was to let everyone know that she’d gotten worked up over some unfulfilled threats. And now that she was here, even Kyoshi could tell how stupid she’d been. The infirmary was the safest place for Rangi right now, surrounded as she was by Hei-Ran and Atuat and unable to make any wrong move the Fire Lord could use to justify an attack.

Kyoshi forced a smile, relaxing her shoulders the best she could. “Nothing of the sort.” She tucked her fans back into her belt. “The meeting was simply to confirm what he already knew. Pretty big waste of time, actually.”

Hei-Ran was still studying her skeptically, probably trying to pinpoint the reason for Kyoshi’s sudden change in demeanor. Kyoshi dared to look over at Rangi again.

Her expression mirrored her mother’s, lips slightly pursed and head tilted to the side. If Kyoshi didn’t want Hei-Ran to discover the true nature of her meeting with Zoryu, she definitely didn’t want Rangi figuring it out.

Rangi’s station meant everything to her, and she took her job very seriously. If she knew that her own Fire Lord was pondering possible ways to strip the girl of her life - or worse, her honor - she would lose it.

Kyoshi had already seen how Fire Nation citizens treated their disgraced ranking officials. Hei-Ran had been pitied, patronized, pet like an animal. If anyone were to take that tone with Rangi, well, Kyoshi couldn’t promise that she would be able to keep her Avatar State in check.

“Care for some noodles?” Atuat gestured to her own bowl, holding it up for Kyoshi to see.

There was no way Kyoshi could turn down food. She hadn’t eaten since… well, Kyoshi couldn’t quite remember the last time she’d eaten, and she could feel Rangi staring daggers at her.

“Yeah,” she smiled at Atuat. “Noodles would be great.”

////

It was three days before Rangi was able to stand.

Atuat worked on her the best she could, trying to heal the internal damage caused by Yun. She told Kyoshi that bits of his earth dagger had broken off inside her wound, causing irritation and leaving a large possibility for infection. It didn’t help that Rangi was a terrible patient.

“I can get up,” she kept insisting. “I’m fine!”

When Atuat finally let her try, Rangi leapt at the opportunity, getting to her feet much too quickly and nearly doubling over from lingering stiffness and pain.

“Careful!” Kyoshi cried, hovering nearby. The outburst earned her stares from both Rangi and Atuat.

When Rangi straightened up again—slower this time—Kyoshi could see the imprint of the bandages under her shift - wrapped generously around her torso like battle armor.

“Are you sure she should be doing this?” Kyoshi asked Atuat, probably only fueling Rangi’s determination. “She’s still got bandages on! What if she starts bleeding again? We can try again tomorrow! Or next week!”

“Kyoshi, what’s your problem?” Rangi narrowed her eyes.

She was being far too overprotective, Kyoshi knew. She should back off. Let Rangi manage her own recovery. But even though it was inviting Rangi’s wrath, Kyoshi didn’t want her Firebender’s stubbornness to impede her healing process.

Rangi needed to take it slow. Make sure she didn’t make things worse with her rush to get better. As much as Kyoshi wanted to see her girl back on her feet, she knew it wouldn’t benefit either of them if it happened too quickly.

That’s what Kyoshi told herself as she watched Atuat support Rangi and instruct her to gently raise and lower her arms - stretching out her muscles. Kyoshi just didn’t want Rangi to overextend herself. To tear open her wound. To hurry an infection along. Her concern was born from love and care, not selfishness.

Or cowardice.

As if to poke holes in her reasoning, Hei-Ran entered the tent, arms crossed. “Jinpa told me your meeting with the Fire Lord ended… abruptly.” She glanced over at Atuat and Rangi for the briefest of moments. “Rangi, straighten your shoulders. Injuries don’t excuse bad posture.”

Rangi huffed, but obediently did as she was told. She respected her mother’s authority, whether she liked it or not.

Kyoshi picked her next words carefully. Lying to Hei-Ran was never a good idea, but neither was letting on just how badly the meeting had actually gone. “I think… the messages of both parties had ample time for sinking in.”

The words could’ve come straight from Yun’s mouth—vague with just the right amount of high-brow language. Maybe she wasn’t a hopeless cause after all.

Hei-Ran seemed surprised by the response as well. “I see. And what message did the Fire Lord impart on you?”

Shit.

Kyoshi tried to think on her feet. “Politics,” she said at last. “The importance of… political relations.”

“Sounds like the stuff Jianzhu used to preach,” Rangi offered, crinkling up her nose at the mention of the departed sage.

Hei-Ran sniffed dismissively at the mention of the man who’d nearly poisoned her to death. Kyoshi wondered inwardly if the woman ever mourned Jianzhu, despite everything. He had once been her close companion, after all.

Every one of Hei-Ran’s old friends were gone, she suddenly realized - swallowing hard. Kuruk. Kelsang. Jianzhu. The once-inseparable gang hadn’t stayed that way for very long. Hei-Ran was the sole survivor.

Killed after hunting dark spirits.

Murdered by Jianzhu.

Murdered by Yun. And me.

What terrible fates had been waiting for the previous Avatar team, often at the hands of each other. Was that what waited for her? For Rangi? For Wong and Kirimia? Was every Avatar doomed to bring failure and annihilation to the people who loved them most?

“Atuat,” she said sharply, turning to look at Rangi who’d made good progress accompanied by the Waterbender. “That’s enough for today.”

“Yes, Avatar.”

As Atuat moved to help Rangi back to bed, Rangi protested - an angry haze settling over her face as she watched Kyoshi move towards the door.

“What?” Rangi twisted in Atuat’s grip, trying to break free, to run after her. “Who let her call the shots around here? Kyoshi, don’t you dare walk away from me! I’m not through talking about this!”

Kyoshi didn’t turn around. She couldn’t.

“Fine! Go clear your head! See if I care!”

And then Kyoshi made it out of earshot.

She would delay Rangi’s recovery as long as she possibly could, drag it out until the spirits themselves were begging the Firebender to get back on her feet. Because at least here in the infirmary, tucked away in Yokoya, she had people to keep her safe. She couldn’t get herself thrown into another life-threatening situation while she was still recuperating from the last one.

Kyoshi wouldn’t be the reason for Rangi’s obliteration.

And neither would Zoryu.

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more coming soon! my commissions are open (and so is my ask box!)

[thefallennightmare]

Time-Eight

Pairings: 1940'S Bucky Barnes x Reader/ Present Bucky Barnes x Reader.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, tiny bit of smut if you look close

Summary: Before the war, Bucky and Reader had the picture perfect life together. When she lost him, she thought that she would never find that kind of love again. However, someone from a different time returns to give her that love once more. Will she follow them through the unknown or come to terms that her once in a lifetime love is truly gone?

A/N: Here’s a long awaited update! The next two chapters will have a lot of angst so get ready. TAGS ARE STILL OPEN. 

TAGS: @overthinkinggotmedrinking @igothroughphasesalot @veralyonn @shannonleanna182 @white-wolf-buckaroo @whatawildone @jessyballet @sebby-staan @multiyfandomgirl40 @andeys-obsessions @spid3rgwen @slut-for-buck @spideyyypeter @voguekristen @justmeandmyfuckeduplife @kenziekugler22 @hoodedbirdie @ginger-swag-rapunzel @bluemoon-icecream @crazylittlereader2474​ 

June 4, 1943 7:43 p.m. 

“Dear lord, I’m so late,” I exasperated pushing my way through the crowds of people, trying to find Bucky and Steve. 

I had spent all afternoon making sure I looked perfect for Bucky’s last night that I hadn’t realized I was supposed to meet them almost an hour ago. 

“Bucky’s going to flip his wig that I’m late. He hates it when I’m late,” I groaned to myself. 

The breeze from tonight blew the bottom of my red dress as I sprinted onto the main grounds of tonight's expo. It was all about the future and I knew that Bucky would be like a kid in a candy store tonight; future tech always interested him. 

A instant thought of Bucky leaving pushed it’s way into my brain and I tried everything to ignore it. I couldn’t let  my sadness ruin tonight. Bucky wanted this, he wanted to fight across the ocean in the war. Who was I to stop him from that?

“Y/N!” 

Turning on my heels, my eyes landed on Bucky and Steve as they made their way towards me. The loving smile on Bucky’s face brought warmth to my heart. We truly loved one another and I knew that no matter the distance or time difference between us, that love would never falter. 

“You’re late, doll,” Bucky joked. 

I sighed. “I know. I couldn’t decide on what to wear. I wanted to look good for you, Buck.” 

He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into him with a soft kiss to my forehead. 

“You look gorgeous, Y/N.” 

Steve jokingly groaned at our affection towards another and motioned to the large stage in the middle of the grounds. 

“You two are so gross. Can we just go watch this thing?” Steve asked. 

I smirked while grabbing his cheeks. “Does Stevie want a kiss too?” 

He gently pushed me back towards Bucky, all of us laughing, and we finally made our way towards the stage. Howard Stark was here to show us some projects that he’s working on for the future; a flying car. 

Bucky was jumping in his boots at the thought of seeing it and I giggled. “Excited?”

“I’ve got my best friend and my best girl on my last night in Brooklyn. Darling, I’m more than excited. Life is good,” Bucky mused. 

We shared a loving kiss, me savoring the taste of his lips as much as I could. Even though my heart was breaking on the inside, I mustered up the best fake smile I could, hoping that he couldn’t see through the façade.

As we watched the Stark expo, hand in hand, none of us had realized that Steve had slipped away unnoticed. Bucky’s thumb traced circles over the back of my hand and I rested my head against his shoulder. His lips grazed over my head, taking in my scent of roses, burning it to memory. 

“Can we go dancing now?” I questioned when the expo had ended. 

“Of course, doll.” Bucky smiled and turned over he shoulder. “Hey Steve, let’s take our girl dancing.” 

His words trailed off when he noticed that Steve had left us, no where in sight. 

“Where did he go?” 

I shook my head but immediately sighed, seeing an enlisting building a couple hundred feet from us. 

“Bucky,” I nodded towards the building. 

“Damn it, Rogers,” He cursed. 

I urged him along with me. “He’s not going to stop.” 

When we finally caught up with Steve, I stood back as the two best fiends bickered back and forth. They had been friends long before I came into the picture and no matter how much I did not want Steve to follow Bucky in the line of war, Bucky was the one that had to talk to him. 

Bucky would be gone in less than twenty four hours so all I had left was Steve. I would be damned if I lost him as well. 

“Stevie,” my voice broke through their argument. 

Steve's sad blue eyes reached my own. “Please don’t do this. I can’t lose you too.” 

My bottom lip trembled at the mere thought. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I have to try,” Steve sighed. 

The look of determination wore proudly on his face and it was then that it finally settled that Steve would do this no matter how many times we fought with him. I reluctantly nodded before wrapping my arms around him in a tight hug, his own snaking their way around my waist. 

“Come by my apartment this weekend. We’ll watch terrible movies like we used too,” I said. 

He nodded before giving Bucky a quick hug. 

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back,” Bucky sighed. 

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you,” Steve retorted back. 

I smiled at their usual banter and with a quick wave goodbye, Bucky and I made our way towards the dancefloor. 

“Shh doll. You have to be quiet, my ma is in the other room,” Bucky groaned into the nape of my neck. 

“It’s so good, Buck,” I moaned, legs wrapping around his lower back to pull him closer to me. 

“Y/N,” he breathed my name over and over again with each thrust into me. “I love you.” 

We both exploded with bliss together, naked bodies tangling in the sheets together as he pulled me into his chest. Sweat speckled in random spots and my fingers traced circles down his stomach back up to his chest. 

Silence fell between us, enjoying the peace that the long night had come to. We danced for hours and once we arrived back to his house, Bucky’s lips immediately found the bare skin of my neck. 

“I have to have you one more time, darling.” 

A soft sigh fell from my lips and Bucky knew something was wrong, fingers tracing circles on my bare back. 

“What's wrong?” He questioned. 

I repositioned my head so I could look into his eyes. “You won’t forget about me, right?” 

“Never in a million years,” he smirked. 

His words did nothing to ease my worried thoughts. 

“Will we ever see each other again?” The words came out broken, my walls starting to crumble. 

Bucky swallowed before gripping me tighter. “I don’t know, doll. I want to be honest with you but don’t want to scare you.” 

Tears slipped from my eyes onto his skin so Bucky hushed my cries with a soft kiss to my lips. Seeing me like this had to break his heart just as much as my own was breaking. We hadn’t been together long but the love that we created and felt was so real. He would forever be mine and I forever will be his. 

“I got you something,” I mumbled into his chest once the tears had stopped.

He let me out of his grasp and I quickly left the warmth of his bed, throwing his shirt over as I pulled a small box out of my purse. Our hands grazed as I gave him the gift. 

Inside was a pocket watch that had a picture of me on the inside. It was one of Bucky’s favorites he took of me. 

“No matter the time difference between us, I’ll always be with you, Bucky.” 

His eyes welled with tears but before they dared to fall, Bucky wiped them away hastily. 

“I have something for you,” Bucky said while pulling out a box from a shoebox on his end table. 

“It’s not much, it was all I could afford,” He defended while I opened it. 

A loud gasp fell from my lips when I saw the beautiful diamond ring, the moonlight from outside catching it just right. It matched perfectly with the necklace he had given me for Christmas; black diamond and all. Our initials were inscribed on the inside of the band. 

Words were foreign on my lips, unsure of what to say. 

“It’s a promise ring. I can’t afford a fancy diamond but I promise to make an honest woman out of you and marry you,” Bucky professed. 

Tears had fallen from my eyes once again while I placed the ring on my left hand, it fitting perfectly. 

“It’s absolutely perfect, Bucky. Thank you.” 

I thanked him a few more times with a handful of kisses. Our bodies fell onto his small bed, molding together as we tried to enjoy our last few hours together. Both of us were oblivious to how our lives would change after tomorrow.