verifiedmovers

[bookwormjust]

A...strange situation (established relationship with Azriel, Elain as the bad person thinking you are just an obstacle to get Azriel)

The tension in the room is palpable. You can feel it in the way the Inner Circle exchanges quiet glances, in the way Azriel’s shadows seem to coil closer to him, whispering around his form as if anticipating a storm. The dinner had started peacefully enough, but it quickly shifted when Elain began making pointed remarks, her usually soft and gentle tone laced with something sharper.

You’ve caught her staring at Azriel all night, her eyes lingering on him longer than they should. She hasn’t realized yet—hasn’t *seen*—the bond that connects you and Azriel, hasn’t noticed the way his gaze never strays from you for long, the way his body naturally angles toward yours, protective and steady.

Then it happens.

Elain, her smile tight and eyes gleaming with something that’s no longer kindness, turns her attention to you. Her voice is deceptively sweet as she says, “I don’t have to press myself against Azriel to get his attention.” Her words hang in the air, thinly veiled aggression slipping into the space between you. “I don’t have to throw myself at him or—” she glances at your chest, her meaning clear, “put my breasts in his face to be noticed.”

The room goes dead silent. 

Azriel’s hand, which had been resting lightly on your thigh under the table, tightens. His eyes darken, his jaw clenching in a way that shows he’s barely holding back his anger. His shadows react instantly, swirling more fiercely around him, curling protectively toward you. Though he says nothing—yet—the tension radiating from him is undeniable.

Across the table, Mor lets out a sharp laugh, the sound biting through the silence. She leans back in her chair, her golden eyes sparkling with amusement and a hint of anger. “Oh, Elain,” she drawls, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Sweetheart, you really don’t know anything, do you?”

Elain stiffens, clearly caught off guard, her gaze darting to Mor, then back to you. She’s confused, not realizing the deeper dynamics at play here.

Feyre shifts uncomfortably beside Rhysand, her brow furrowing as she gives her sister a warning look, but Rhys merely leans back in his chair, eyes glinting with quiet amusement as he watches the scene unfold, ready to intervene if necessary. Cassian, on the other hand, has gone entirely still, his usually playful demeanor replaced by something harder as his gaze flicks between you, Azriel, and Elain. Nesta, seated next to him, glares at her sister with sharp disapproval, clearly not amused by her antics.

Azriel, finally breaking the tense silence, turns his head slowly to Elain. His voice, when he speaks, is dangerously calm. “Elain,” he says, his words measured and clipped. “You will not speak to her like that again.”

Elain falters, her eyes widening slightly at his tone, but she still doesn’t understand. She thinks she has a chance with him, and that perhaps you’re the obstacle in her way. But she doesn’t know—*doesn’t feel*—what you and Azriel have. She tries to respond, to say something else, but Azriel cuts her off.

“I am hers,” he states simply, the finality in his words ringing through the room. He glances down at you, his gaze softening, the bond between you two thrumming with warmth and certainty. “I always have been.”

Elain’s face drains of color as the weight of his words sinks in. She glances between the two of you, slowly beginning to realize what she’s missed all this time. She opens her mouth, as if to say something in defense, but Mor cuts her off with a sharp, mocking laugh.

“Gods, this is priceless,” Mor says, grinning widely. “She really thought—” She stops herself, shaking her head with a mix of amusement and disbelief. “Elain, you don’t have a clue.”

Feyre clears her throat, trying to regain control of the situation before it spirals further. “Elain,” she says softly, though her tone holds an edge of frustration, “I think it’s time we moved on from this conversation.”

But the damage has been done. Elain looks utterly humiliated, her previous confidence crumbling as she realizes not only the mistake she’s made but also that the entire Inner Circle has rallied behind you. Her eyes flick to you one last time, filled with a mix of confusion and resentment, before she looks away.

Azriel, ever calm but protective, leans close to you, his hand never leaving your side. “You’re more patient than I am,” he murmurs, his voice a quiet promise in your ear. “I wouldn’t have let her get away with saying that.”

You smile softly, leaning into his warmth, feeling the strength of your bond pulsing between you. “She didn’t know,” you reply gently, though there’s a firmness in your words too. “But now she does.”

And with that, the tension slowly begins to fade from the room, though Elain remains quiet and withdrawn for the rest of the evening. Azriel stays close to you, his touch and presence a constant reminder of the bond that ties you together, one that no one—not even Elain—can ever come between.

[littlelamy]

how you met

rockstar!rafe x model!reader

The pulsing bass and dim lights made it easy to get lost in the heat of the underground club. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, spilled drinks, and the kind of energy that came alive after midnight. It was the perfect place to forget… or be forgotten. Exactly what you’d needed after your friends all but forced you out tonight, insisting that life didn’t end just because you’d left your famous ex in the past.

"Look around!" one of them yelled over the music, nudging you with a sly grin. “This is exactly what you need!”

“Right,” you muttered, taking a sip of whatever drink they’d ordered for you, scanning the room with a sort of lazy detachment. You weren’t really looking to rebound with anyone here. That is, until you saw him.

He was on stage, barely ten feet away. Shirtless, tattoos splashed across his skin, he had that dark, brooding edge that made him look like he was born for a stage like this, all arrogance and mystery wrapped up in a stunning face with a jawline that could cut glass. His voice was raw, gravelly, like he was spitting out every word with a vengeance, and somehow, he had the entire crowd hooked.

Rafe Cameron.

You recognized him immediately—he’d been the face (and body) of a million indie music magazines you’d been in too, though your worlds had never actually crossed. But seeing him up close, hearing him live, felt different. You watched, your heart picking up speed with each word he growled into the mic, his piercing blue eyes scanning the room until—

He saw you.

There was a beat, maybe two, where the energy between you was so thick it was almost tangible. His gaze raked over you slowly, starting from the glossy heels that matched the clingy little dress your friends had practically begged you to wear. His eyes were heavy, hooded, and every time he looked at you, you could practically feel the heat licking at your skin. You arched a brow, pretending not to notice, barely giving him a second glance, which only seemed to make his stare even bolder.

“God, he’s looking right at you,” your friend whispered, practically squealing in excitement. You kept a cool exterior, giving Rafe the most casual of glances before looking away, leaning back to take a slow sip of your drink. His band continued their set, but he never stopped glancing in your direction, his attention flickering between the song and whatever spell you’d cast over him.

The moment they finished, you expected him to disappear backstage. Instead, Rafe practically leaped off the stage, heading straight for the bar, for you.

“Didn’t think a girl like you would ever show up in a place like this,” he drawled, voice low and teasing as he leaned an arm on the bar next to you. He smelled like sweat and the faintest hint of smoke, and somehow, it was intoxicating. Up close, he was even more gorgeous, a mix of rugged, careless appeal and a confidence that was probably earned from too many one-night stands.

“Maybe you don’t know what kind of girl I am,” you replied, shooting him a little smirk. You wanted him, yes, but the game was too fun to rush. Besides, you were still reeling from the effect he had on you. You couldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

Rafe chuckled, and there was something wicked about it, like he already knew exactly what you were doing and had every intention of breaking down your resolve. “Oh, I know. I’ve seen your face on more magazine covers than I can count. Got them all over my place, by the way.” His eyes roamed your body again, this time with no hint of shame. “But trust me, you’re even better in person.”

“You talk like you think you’ve got me all figured out,” you shot back, the smirk playing on your lips as you turned to face him. His stare was unrelenting, blue eyes devouring every inch of you, and there was no hiding the smolder in them. He’d probably perfected that look a long time ago, and it was undeniably sexy.

He leaned in, his lips brushing just past your ear. “You want me to figure you out?” His voice was a low, dangerous whisper. “Because, baby, I’ll take all night if that’s what it takes.”

You couldn’t help the way your breath hitched at his words. He was crass, unapologetic, and entirely too good at this game, but you weren’t about to let him know he’d gotten under your skin. Yet.

“Oh, please,” you replied coolly, rolling your eyes as if unaffected. “Like you could handle it.”

Rafe’s grin widened, flashing that perfect smile that made your pulse thud in your chest. “Big words for a girl playing hard to get,” he said, his hand reaching to twirl a strand of your hair between his fingers. He was close enough that you could see every detail of the tattoos etched along his collarbone, and you had to focus hard to keep your cool as he looked at you like you were something he was seconds away from devouring.

You arched a brow, meeting his gaze head-on. “Playing?” you echoed, feigning nonchalance. “This is just my normal.”

His laugh was a dark, husky sound, and the way his fingers brushed along your arm left a trail of heat on your skin. “If that’s the case, sweetheart, consider me hooked.”

He paused, eyes locking on yours as he closed the distance, his hand coming to rest on your waist. You could feel his warm breath on your lips, smell the scent of whiskey on his breath. You knew exactly what he wanted—and, if you were honest with yourself, you wanted it too. But you weren’t about to make it easy.

You let a long moment of silence stretch between you, your eyes flicking to his mouth for the briefest second before meeting his gaze again, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Then I guess you’ll just have to work a little harder for it, won’t you?”

Rafe’s smirk softened into something that was almost a grin. “Oh, trust me, I don’t mind putting in the work.” Without another word, his lips crashed against yours, hungry, unrestrained, a kiss that held every bit of the reckless energy he had on stage. His hands held you firmly, like he was staking a claim, and the way he kissed was more than just a kiss—it was a promise, a challenge, a taunt all in one.

As you pulled away, a satisfied smirk played on your lips. Rafe was left standing there, his hand still lingering at his side as if reluctant to let go. You met his heated gaze, letting a slow, coy smile spread across your face before stepping back, savoring the way his eyes stayed locked on you, intense and unyielding.

With one last lingering glance, you turned on your heel, swaying your hips with each step, knowing full well he was watching every second. Each sway was deliberate, your heels clicking against the floor in time with the pounding bass of the music, and you didn’t look back, but you could practically feel his eyes tracing every curve.

Rafe’s husky voice rang out, half-amused, half-starved, over the music. “You’re playing a dangerous game, you know that?”

You glanced back, giving him a sly wink. “Guess you’ll just have to catch up and see.”

His smirk grew, and you knew you’d just sparked something wild in him. Just the way you wanted it. And as you slipped into the crowd, you could already feel the tension simmering, ready to pull you back to him the second you both decided to stop playing games.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @dinakisser @rafecameroninterlude @sstargirln

[nohva]

Zoro drunkenly (or while tipsy) confesses his love to Sanji one night but, in the same breath, tells him it’s okay—he knows Sanji is straight and is fine with them remaining "only" crewmates, he just had to get these feelings out of his system. And Sanji is overwhelmed because ???? Where is this even coming from? Why is the mosshead suddenly saying these things? This isn’t how their relationship is supposed to work. They don’t do the whole talking thing, especially not about serious topics?? When they have emotions to work through they fight each other, maybe throw in an insult or two. But this? This is unfamiliar territory for Sanji, so he’s really not sure how to react, much less respond.

So he doesn’t; he just stares at Zoro, his mouth opening and closing. Zoro takes that as his sign, gets up from the stairs he’d been sitting on, and leaves for the sleeping quarters. It is quite late, after all.

The next morning while preparing breakfast Sanji is oh so tense. He’s still mostly confused because there’s just no way the green-haired brute could harbor any such feelings toward another human being—least of all him—could he? And what if this does change things? Zoro said it wouldn’t, but who's to say?

And Zoro acts like nothing ever happened, he's just the same old moss ball that drinks too much Sake and takes way too many naps during the day and Sanji is so confused and he's getting angry now, because how can he act so nonchalant while the cook is over here losing his god damn mind over this? Does Zoro maybe not remember confessing? Had he been that drunk?

And obviously Zoro DOES remember, and he's NOT calm at all. He's freaking out internally every time he and Sanji are in the same room, but he'd rather lose his remaining eye than have anyone notice. So he does his best to play it cool. And yeah, maybe he takes a nap or two more than usual, and maybe he spends even more time working out in the crow's nest than is strictly necessary, but that is nobody’s business but his own, isn’t it?

Bla bla bla cue Sanji questioning the universe and his existence, freaking out over his sexuality, sloooowly coming to terms with it and then freaking out again about telling Zoro and what it means for the crew dynamic etc etc.

Also Robin being somewhere in the background of the story, smiling to herself, sipping on her tea, because of course she knows something is up, and she has a pretty good idea of what it is about, even if she doesn’t know the whole story, because she knows pretty much everything that’s going on on the sunny, cause she’s the responsible older sister™️.

————————————————————-

I have never attempted to write anything before, not even a rough draft like this, but Zosan has been living in my head rent free for the past few months now, and once the idea for a possible plot popped up in my mind I absolutely needed to note it down. Oh well, I hope I am not embarrassing myself too much by posting this.

Anyways, this is the most I can offer due to a lack of actual literary skills, but I still hope you enjoyed!

The obligatory English isn’t my first language speech: please excuse any spelling and grammar mistakes, I tried my best, I swear!

[nhlclover]

𝐏𝐀𝐃𝐌𝐄 & 𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍 | 𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐉 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐅𝐊𝐎𝐕𝐒𝐊𝐘

— cozytober masterlist !

summary: you pick out yours and jurajs matching costume for the canadiens halloween party, even though he knows nothing about the world in a galaxy far, far away.

warnings: kind of spoilers for the Star Wars franchise, barely nsfw (just juraj appreciating how hot his gf is)

word count: 1.18k

notes: ninth fic of cozytober! fun fact i have not seen star wars so idk if any of this makes sense.

The party was already in full swing when you and Juraj arrived at Nick’s house. The house was packed with players and their partners, all dressed in an assortment of creative, quirky, and hilarious costumes. The house was decorated with cobwebs, faux tombstones, and string lights that glowed a soft orange, adding a festive yet spooky ambiance. Music thumped through the walls, and laughter echoed around every corner.

Juraj tugged at the collar of his Anakin Skywalker costume, looking down at the dark robes he was wearing. “Are you sure this is right?” he asked, brow furrowing slightly in confusion. He hadn’t seen any of the Star Wars movies, but he’d agreed to dress up as Anakin after seeing how excited you were about the idea. You couldn’t help but grin as you adjusted his tunic a little.

“Trust me, you look great,” you said, smoothing down the fabric of your own Padmé-inspired outfit. The shorts you wore were definitely on the tiny side, hugging your hips, but they worked perfectly with the rest of the costume. Juraj’s eyes briefly flicked down to them before he glanced back up to your face, a slight blush on his cheeks giving away what was going on in his thoughts.

“What if we just went back to my place and skipped the party?” Juraj muttered, a mischievous glint in his eye as he tugged you closer by the waist. His hand rested lightly on your hip, his fingers brushing the edge of those tiny shorts. The way he looked at you like you were the only person in the room, made your heart skip a beat.

You playfully swatted his chest. “Nice try, but we’re already here. Besides,” you gestured toward the house, “don’t you want to show off your costume?”

Juraj chuckled, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “I still don’t even know who I’m supposed to be.” His breath against your skin sent a little shiver down your spine. You laughed, reaching up to brush back a strand of hair that had fallen over his forehead.

“Well, Anakin’s kind of a big deal,” you teased. “He’s the chosen one, strong with the Force, and he falls in love with me—well, Padmé,” you corrected. “So, you’ve basically already nailed the character.”

He grinned, shaking his head. “I’ll take your word for it.”

As you entered the house, you were immediately swept up in the buzzing energy of the party. People were scattered around in small groups, some laughing, others snapping photos in front of a Halloween-themed backdrop that Nick and Caitlin had set up in the living room. You spotted a few teammates dressed in their own humorous costumes — Jake and Emily doing a group costume with Alex as Willy Wonka and Oompa Loompas, Cole as Spider-man, and Brendan and Emma as Remy and Linguini from Ratatouille.

“Lookin’ sharp, Skywalker!” Cole called out when he noticed Juraj, his smirk only growing wider when he saw your costume. “And Padmé! You guys really went all out.”

“Thanks, man,” Juraj said with a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck. He leaned in closer to you, murmuring under his breath, “Who’s Skywalker again?”

You stifled a laugh, about to answer, when Arber and his girlfriend, Stephanie, walked up. Stephanie’s eyes lit up when she saw your outfit.

“Oh my god, I love your costume! You guys look amazing together,” she gushed.

Before you could respond, Arber smirked, eyeing Juraj with an amused glint. “So, do you even know who you’re dressed as, big guy? Or did you just let her pick for you?”

“Honestly, no idea. But she was really excited about it, so… here I am.” Juraj said, being honest with Arber. “Also,” Juraj continued, his voice lowering slightly as his gaze swept over you, “she looks hot in this costume, so I wasn’t going to say no.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you swatted his arm with an embarrassed laugh. “Juraj!”

Arber cracked a grin. “Fair enough,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s as good a reason as any.”

Stephanie giggled, shaking her head. “Well, whatever the reason, your costume is great and you both look adorable.”

As the night buzzed on around you, Juraj stayed close, his arm casually draped over your shoulders. You found a quieter corner of the room, away from the chaos of the main party, where you could talk without yelling over the music. The dim lighting cast a warm glow over both of you, the orange string lights reflecting in Juraj’s eyes as he glanced down at you.

You leaned back against the wall, catching your breath after all the excitement. The noise of the party still hummed around you, but here in this little corner, it felt like it was just the two of you. Juraj had his hand on your hip, fingers lazily tracing circles on your exposed skin just above the waistband of your shorts.

“Maybe I do need to watch these movies,” Juraj said, eyes not leaving yours.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, and a teasing smile played on your lips. “Oh yeah? You’re finally giving in, huh?”

Juraj chuckled, his thumb gently brushing over your hip. “I mean, if I’m going to be walking around in this costume, I should probably at least know who I’m supposed to be.”

You bit back a grin, feeling a flutter in your chest at the thought of introducing him to one of your favorite movie series. “I think you’d actually enjoy them. There’s lightsaber fights, space battles, all that good stuff.”

“Yeah, but does the guy get the girl in the end?” he asked, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You hesitated, thinking about the bittersweet love story between Anakin and Padmé. “Well… it’s complicated,” you admitted, your smile softening. “But I can promise it’s worth watching.”

“Hmmm,” Juraj hummed, “Sounds like a plan.”

“Okay if we do watch Star Wars, you have to promise to pay attention,” you said, poking him lightly in the chest, knowing he had a tendency to get distracted during movies.

He grinned, pressing a light kiss to your temple. “Deal.” Then, after a brief pause, he added, “How do you feel about leaving and heading back to my place right now to start that movie marathon?”

The playful challenge in his eyes was hard to resist, and you couldn’t help but grin. “Well, if you insist…” you began, standing up a little straighter and sliding your arm around his waist, “…I guess we could get started on that marathon.”

Juraj’s grin widened, and before you knew it, you were both making your way to the front door, quietly sneaking out of the party without a second glance back. As the cool night air hit your face, you leaned into him, feeling his warmth as he led you toward the car.

“Let’s just hope you can stay awake through the first movie,” you teased, looking up at him with a playful glint in your eyes.

Juraj laughed, his arm tightening around you. “With you next to me? I’m not going anywhere.”

[leviraaaaaa]

–Where the waves fade–

"Isn't this enough exploring? We're way too far."

"Hush," You threw your hand in an airy wave, indicating him to be quiet. "We're not that far, I can still hear Hange from here."

You continued to walk, paying no mind to the streak of grumbles and mumbled curses he let out under his breath. This was the first ever time here at the sea, and you were way too entranced by it. Not to mention, Levi is Levi and he'll complain no matter what you do so you learnt long ago to just shut up and let him sulk.

You looked sideways, where the endless blue went on, waves crashing just besides your feet. Sometimes, particularly large waves washed over your feet, the water trickling over your shoes. You could feel the sand slipping way underneath, just barely enough to make you slightly unstable. It was windy, the air making your hair fly everywhere, you could taste the saltiness.

You had separated yourself from the small chaotic group, letting yourself stray away, following where the wind goes. You walked alongside the beach, sand had slipped through your boots somehow, making it uncomfortable but you didn't really care. If you're gonna see the sea might as well experience it too.

It felt good.

Like freedom.

Though clearly, Levi did not share the same point of view.

"God knows what Hange is doing, can you for fucks sake, turn around?" He called out, glancing warily from you to the back, where you could just barely see the top of the heads of Hange and the others, conflicted on whether it was safe to leave them there on their own but also hesitant to leave you as well. His shoulders were tense, even the experience of seeing something as miraculous as the sea couldn't relax him a little.

"I didn't ask you to follow me, lev." You sighed, looking over your shoulder to meet the eyes of the man who was grumpily walking behind you. "Go back, I'll be fine."

"Yeah sure." He scowled. "I leave and then you drown."

You only rolled your eyes, not bothering to respond.

"Where the hell are you going anyways? You don't know shit around here, it's not safe."

"I dont know. I'm just walking." You halted, turning around. "Levi." You said.

"What?"

"Walk with me."

"I am."

"No, you're walking behind me, come and walk beside me." You gestured him forward. "It's okay, I won't shove you down the water."

He gave you a wary look that clearly said I don't trust you but he fastened his pace anyway, until he was beside you. He glanced down at your soggy and sand covered boots, making a repulsed expression. "You ruined your fucking shoes."

You followed his glance, looking down. "True." You smiled. Then you leaned down, hooking your fingers through the edge and took your boots off, one after the other. You threw them both somewhere behind you carelessly. Levi stared at you horrified.

"What are you doing?" He asked blankly.

"Taking my shoes off?" You mumbled, digging your heels in the sand. It felt ticklish and weird, but so soft too. "Now, there's no shoes to ruin."

"You're disgusting."

"It's just sand Levi."

"It's disgusting."

"Come on, it feels good."

"If you're trying to convince me to do the same you've gone insane.”

Safe to say, you paid no heed to him. Instead, tiptoeing over the sand carefully, you started edging towards the water. The waves crashed hard, trickling water through your toes and almost making you lose your balance but you felt glee.

“There could be like a million fucking things in there,” Levi was complaining gruffly, “We don't know shit about this place. And all of you are acting like children. Hey, are you even listeni—”

“Levi, I'm gonna run in.”

“Wh—”

But he didn't even get to finish his sentence and you were already running, squealing loudly when the wind hit you hard, the water splashing around you high with every clumsy and wild step you took and in a second you were drenched. “Oh my walls,” You let out an excited gleeful laugh, twirling in the ankle deep water. “Oh my walls.”

“Are you sure you're not gonna come in?” You yelled at him loudly, barely audible through the loud wind.

He looked down at the water, warily stepping away and casting them a suspicious glare crept closer to his boots with every wave.

He thinks. He doesn't like water. Water is unpredictable. Water is chaotic. Water is not something he can control and he doesn't like things he can't control.

But he looked at you again and all denial seemed to leave him.

The expanse of blue stretched far beyond where his eye could see. The sea was mesmerizing, timeless. But so were you.

So were you.

And for a second, Levi's head was blank.

He wasn't watching the sea anymore. All he could see was you. You, with that radiant smile of yours, in the endless blue with your hair wet and flying around everywhere, water dripping down your face. The ocean glittered, and even from here, he could see the water drops that clung to your lashes, the sheen on your lips. The flowy white blouse you wore was now completely drenched, the fabric stuck to your skin. Far in the horizon, the sun was lower, just about to set. It was sending its last few bright rays and it hit you, painting the most dazzling scene he'd ever seen.

He could hear your laughter, high and sweet, creating a beautiful harmony as the wind howled alongside, the sea roaring with every crash.

You looked unreal.

Temptations. He knew. He knew he should know better. But when had he ever known better when it came to you?

You were you and he was only just a man.

He was only a man.

Slowly, he lowered down, his fingers moving swiftly to untie the laces of his boots. He rolled up his pants and his sleeves. Then slower, even slower, he took a step.

The joy of you was beyond words. You could hardly keep your happiness contained, glowing in excitement and almost bouncing. “See?” You exclaimed happily, grinning at him. “It's not so bad right?”

When you reach out your hand, he takes it. He lets you guide him through the cold water lapping at his feet. “It's fucking freezing.” He scoffed, goosebumps rising on his skin. The sand felt weird underneath, it made him feel unstable, like something kept shifting out of his feet and he was floating.

As if on cue, a big wave crashed, kicking the balance from your feet. You'd already been swaying, unused to the constantly shifting water and the soft ground. As the water rushed past you, you almost tipped over.

“Oh fuck—” The curse escaped you as you felt your feet lose it's hold and you leaned forward. But Levi was quicker, his arms grabbing onto your waist before you fell face first, stabilizing you. You shot an apologetic grin towards him, holding on his arms to regain your balance. He did not look impressed.

“I warned you.” He said. “I'm not gonna fish you out if you fall and drown and die.”

“You just did though.”

“Keep talking and that'll change.” But his grip tightened around you.

You didn't push further. You've already pushed your luck far beyond you thought when you'd got him into the water. If you pushed further, chances were he'd drag you out of here. Nope, you'll take what you get.

The two of you stand like that for a while. The chilly water licked at your knees, rushing up to meet you as you just let the rhythm of the waves brush over you, the horizon stretching out into infinity. The salty air filled your lungs as you shared this unspoken moment—a glimpse of something bigger, a freedom so rare in your world that neither of you knew how long it would last.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?” You said softly.

Is it? He wondered as he looked at you. You were watching the ocean with the widest eyes, like you'd been entranced by it.

The ocean was beautiful. In its own strange way. There was this vastness about it, endlessly stretching blue. But he could hardly be aware of what was before him when you were beside him.

You're beautiful, is what he wants to say.

It's something in your eyes, he thought. The certain spark only you've ever had. There was an entire ocean in your eyes. There was an entire universe in your eyes. He wanted to tell you he had already seen everything beautiful there was to see. He doesn't need the fucking ocean or the mountains or the stars, everything you're always being sappy about. He had the fate to look at you.

He doesn't say any of it though. He doesn't have the guts too.

Instead, he slides his fingers through yours. You look surprised, but you don't pull away. He almost stop breathing when your hold tightened.

He didn't know what you were thinking and he didn't want to know. He hoped you think it's because he doesn't want you to fall or to trip. He hoped you wouldn't feel the rush of blood in his ears that howled louder than the wind ever could. He hoped you didn't see the look on his face or hear the heart that was slamming against his chest.

He hoped that you would never find out. But he was so, so scared. So scared that if he doesn't hold on to you, you'd slip through his fingers. You'd fade. You'd disappear like every good thing he's ever had in his life.

So he held on.

[nvuy]

palingenesis — il capitano

summary. oh, to the gods, and to be reborn again from your rib.

notes. “nvuy do the corpse bride capitano fic” said about three people so i did it. is this actually corpse bride? no. do i care? also no. my halloween present that only certified freaks are allowed to read. capitano is geniunely not mentioned by his name or his status, so LOWKEY. you could read this as any male lead you want, i guess. but uh… it’s capitano. well. it’s supposed to be.

warnings. mentions of death. mentions of decay (but the khaenri’ah version of decay). capitano is literally a dead man walking. tangents about god and love. standard nvuy fic where everyone is miserable. angst if you squint.

“You used to love me for me, but I don’t even know what I am anymore.” 

There’s a small huff of laughter as you bring your knees to your chest. You wonder how he would react to you after all these years. You surely look different, and rot has set its teeth into your skin, and it morphs into his least favourite colour. 

You wonder briefly, if he would even remember you, was he to ever return. How childish.

You pick up a lone stick in the soil next to you and poke at the withered and abandoned white and yellow orchards surrounding the stone. 

His grave sits idly, silent. 

“I lost myself the day you died,” you admit. Your throat constricts for a moment and you struggle to breathe. “I had no idea what to do.” You lean against the tree stump, as you always do. “I still don’t.” 

His name is etched from many many centuries ago. Not by you, no. You hadn’t even attended the funeral, and to this day, you regretted it. Regret was a terrible ache that never quelled nor strayed too far from your heart. 

The flowers were dead now. You’d laid them here almost a hundred years ago. You hadn’t expected them to live, but the petals were now an ashy black, and the edges that used to be soft and rubbery were now crumbling like paper against your fingers. The petals fell to small pieces. 

The land was withering. Of course, the flowers would rot as well. 

“You’d hate what your home has become,” you tell him. “We’re all rotting. And it all hurts.” You grimace next, but almost playfully. “Everything is blue. You hate blue. You used to tell me it upset you.” You look down at your forearm, and the withering aches upon your skin. “Even I’m turning blue.” It’s more so black than it is blue, but whatever colour it may be, it scars and will never leave. It is your fate, as it is your people’s. 

The forest is quiet. 

His body was buried amongst his favourite orchard field, but those flowers are long gone now, and all that remains is the black and blue prickly grass that you sit in, and a stone with his name left in it. He is somewhere below the ground, his body long decayed and faded and given life to the soil that once grew the most beautiful greenery you’d ever seen. 

Not even that remained. 

“If you were alive, you’d… y’know…” You tilt your head. “You’d rot, too. And for that, I’m grateful you died with glory.” You stare out into the dead fields. “Though, I can’t help but be selfish. I think it would hurt less if you were here.” 

And there it is. 

You hum soundly. “Yeah… you made everything hurt less.” 

There’s a ring in your palm. It’s small, just large enough to slot nicely around the swell of your fourth finger, but the rot has dug into your flesh just enough that it doesn’t fit anymore. Not the way it used to. 

It’s beautiful, however. Silver with white and blue diamonds. He bestowed it to you one night, though it was significantly after his proposal. The proposal itself was… special. Not in a bad way — but in his way. He had been missing for several days after his army had been struck with an ambush. Only a few men had initially returned to seek refuge and aid from the city. 

It was only two months later, after the city had mourned the soldiers’ losses, that they had returned. Bloodied, battered, beaten, but they had returned. 

He’d spotted you that day when he’d ventured out alone to visit his favourite field of flowers. You were sitting amidst the orchards, because this was where he’d usually be. 

And by your wishes, he returned. 

“It’s you,” you heard him whisper. 

You’d never heard a more beautiful sound. 

You turned quickly and dropped the flower from your hands. The colour almost drained from your face before a newfound pleasantry blossomed across your cheeks. You smiled, and it’s the first time you’ve done so in months. “You’re alive.” 

You took a hesitant step forward, as if unsure if his body would crumble to dust the moment you touched him. 

You sobbed pathetically. You held his face, or what remained of it. “You’re here. I thought you–” 

“I am here.” 

You think it silly now, believing he was dead over and over again. Every time he departed he’d come after the expected arrival date, and even then you used to panic and flourish and do everything but accept he was really gone this time. 

And now. 

Now that he is gone, it only took you three-hundred and ninety-four years to accept it. The rest of those you were busy returning to his grave and retelling your day as if he was alive and listening. 

The few people that were left on this side of the city pitied you. Even the grand old Mage had whispered that you’d better off leaving the dead to sleep soundly before he’d left for Snezhnaya. There was nothing you could have done to prevent this, or what occurred afterward. 

You had asked the Mage, once, if necromancy was truly a thing possible. 

“I am sure, even if it was, living dead is worse than living alive,” he had told you one day. “The past is finished.” 

“Is it selfish to think this way?” 

He looked down at you, and there was pity in his glance. “Very.” You eyed the ring still captured around your finger. “But, love is selfish. To want one person for yourself. It is indulgent.” 

“I suppose,” you whispered. “But possession is beautiful.”

And it had been beautiful. 

Just you and him. 

It was hard to adapt. Still is, really. You forget him for days at a time, and then you remember, and then you return. You stop and stare at walls. You glance to where he would be standing if he was around; next to you, at the dinner table, on his side of the bed. You never truly made the bed your very own. It was his, once. 

Just as your heart was — you weren’t able to develop the courage to move onwards with your life, so you were trapped within purgatory; swindled in a void of pure blue, like his eyes. 

Because isn’t being someone’s everything so special? 

Especially someone like him. 

Someone so brave, and courteous, and gentle. 

You never deserved that, really. So it makes sense why he disappeared just as quickly as he appeared in your life. Unfairness. 

You look down at the ring again. 

“You would be mine?” he asked one day, laying beside you in the field. “If I asked?”

You stared up at the sky. “I already am.” 

That pulled a small puff of laughter from him, and he sat up. You followed shortly, facing him. “I have a ring. And a proposition.” 

Oh. You looked down on what he was offering you. 

“It is your burden to oblige, and it is your choice.” You couldn’t see his face clearly through his armour, but there was a flash of that awful treacherous blue he hated so much. “But, if you’ll have me, I will have you. In this life, you and I will be as one, and never apart again.” 

“That is a bold claim to make,” you told him. “There is no guarantee you will not die soon.” 

“To which I rephrase: even when I am gone and you still walk these plains, you will be mine, and I will be yours, and my love for you will blossom through the soil and bloom the flowers that you love so much.” 

You laugh gently. Such a stupid man. 

You want to crush the ring until it welds flat and unwearable. 

Marriage is a privilege to the blessed, and you’re far from it. You receive no watchful eye from the Gods; they don’t care. They killed everyone you ever knew, and loved, and shared this miserable life with. 

The jewel squeaks in its confines as you squeeze. 

Such a stupid ring. 

You breathe in shakily. Stupid, stupid fantasy. Stupid games. Stupid delusions and useless pining and all of this heartache was for nothing and–

How hard do you have to believe in love to love the same person for an eternity? How hard do you have to imagine a world where everything is perfect when what is foretold to be eternal dies with the soul and the flowers in the rot? 

How long do man and Gods have to continue fighting each other before they realise it is futile? Gods are not kind, man even less so. 

Beautiful rot and ruin. 

That’s the world. 

The crows that sing in the trees screech their awful song to mock you. 

So, you drop the ring. You abandon it right where he had abandoned you in the soil. The silver rolls along the stone until it comes to a stop on the cracks. 

And it sits. 

You consider picking it back up. 

You don’t. 

Instead, you stand and turn to leave. 

Fate is fickle, however. 

If you had picked the ring back up, perhaps none of this would’ve happened. 

The breeze hits hard behind you and it sends chills down your spine. 

You glance up. 

The crows are making awful noises again, and you grimace. Though the spindly trees are ugly, you find there’s nothing uglier than the sound of those birds. 

He rather liked them.  

You step away.

Something sharp scratches against your ankle and then twists, and you scream. 

It’s a branch of some sort, and it moves and wriggles like a worm when you free your foot from its grasp. It twitches as if it has not moved in years, as if the bones inside of it were finally coming to life. 

It retreats into the soil beside his grave. 

Then, nothing. 

Nothing moves. 

The crows still and quiet, and you feel as though you can’t find the energy or courage to breathe. Your ankle is covered in soil and scratches, and you’re sure from how weak it stands when you try to apply weight to it that it’s twisted at best and completely sprained at worst. 

The soil does not stir. 

Until it does.

A hand pops a hole through the ground, and it is as still as the branch was, twitching and writhing and feeling through the open air for leverage. 

A hand. A hand like yours—covered in rot and ruin, purple and blue, and the phalanges are swollen with wither and time.

You step back and bite your tongue. A wrist reveals itself next, consistent with blue and bruise, and it reaches until the bloodied terrible fingers squeeze the soil and begin to pull. The hand claws and claws and digs itself from the ground, fingernails dirtied and brown. 

You want to scream. 

Nobody would hear you all the way out here. 

An elbow. It climbs and climbs, revealing more rot and decay. It writhes as if in pain, and you don’t doubt it so. 

You swallow hard. 

A shoulder. Sides of the neck reveal itself through the soil, caked in mud and wear and tear. It’s other arm tears free from the ground. 

And then a face. 

A face unidentifiable and ruined. Sullied with rot and bruise and wear and fade and filth. Two horrific blue lights of sort cast through the pain and the shadow that shrouds its face, and it only prompts you to step back even further. 

To that, the creature leans forward as best it can to try and grab your ankle. It’s waist is stuck in the soil, and it tries to pull itself out, despite how weak it is. 

“It’s you…” the creature whispers. 

You can’t move. You don’t even blink. Your breathing only comes out in short pathetic bursts. 

You’re not sure what it is, but rot has completely disfigured it beyond recognition. It’s sickening to look at. It’s worse than anything you could ever comprehend, and you imagine one day that you will appear the same. 

It manages to free itself from the confines of the soil, though it cannot stand. It hasn’t done so in centuries, nd the feeling of moving limbs are foreign to it, being entrapped below the ground for so long. 

It tries again to reach for you. It’s fingers brush just shy of your foot.  

You swallow hard. “Who…” You feel as though you already know the answer. 

There’s a single eye that you barely recognise. Deep blue like violet satin robes. Darker than the dead blue spruce. Darker than the sky, and lighter than the depths of the ocean where the sun could not reach. 

You know him. 

You bite your tongue. 

Waves of black hair as deep as shadows drown you on both sides until the world has swallowed the two of you whole. 

“I’m yours,” he reminds. “Correct?” He raises the ring you let go of.

It is him. 

You fall to your knees in front of him despite the fear and nausea churning in your stomach. He almost leaps on top of you, but settles in front, hands reaching forward to rest on your legs. He has not felt the warmth of another person, or anything, for five-hundred years, and he only simply freezes at the feeling. 

You furrow your brows and try to control your breathing. You try to push him off to sit up, but he does not budge. 

“You kept my ring.”

Your fingers curl around what remains of his shoulders and he takes your hand. 

“It is you,” you whisper. “How’re you–” 

His old uniform he was buried in is caked in soil, and it’s covered you, as well. He does not bring himself off of the floor, but he leans back just enough to allow you to sit up. You feel you can’t turn to run just yet, and you’re not sure if you want to. 

You can’t steady your breathing. 

He cannot move his legs properly, and so while you freeze, he uses your corpse as leverage to climb further up and rest upon your shoulder. He is heavy, as heavy as a corpse is, but you find comfort in the weight, somewhere. 

“You look so different,” he comments. Rotten fingers come forth to graze the same textured remainders of true flesh across your cheek. “What has this world done to you?” 

“You died,” you say. His lips rest against your cheek and he hums. “I…” 

“I abandoned you.” 

“I grieved over you for five centuries,” you quickly finish. “You were alive this entire time in the ground?” 

“I don’t know,” he answers. “I don’t think so. I feel as though time hasn’t moved at all. But it has.” He looks around, your face still in his hands. “This is the field.” 

You nod briskly. 

“Everything’s dead,” he comments. 

“It has been,” you reply. “For years.” You look elsewhere. “Everyone’s dead.” 

He holds you tight. “I left you in a world like this.” His hair is matted and disgusting, but you reach up and rest a hand on his crown. Guilt presses into his chest like a weight, and he wills himself to ignore it, despite how heavy it is. 

He is a corpse. A corpse. Like you. Like everyone that remains in this place. 

And he scares you. 

Despite how tight he holds you, you fear him. You feel for a moment you are hallucinating; this can’t be real. Your husband cannot spring from the soil and restate his love. Not like this. 

True death was incurable, and he had died many moons before the war in battle. He had sacrificed himself for victory and peace, only for it to end when the Archons set forth and destroyed your home. You still remember them, even if most of them were dead now. That Barbatos and Rex Lapis remained, despite everything, and you wanted them both dead in return. Dead and buried and never to return in the soil. 

“This isn’t real,” you whisper. 

“It is.” 

“No,” you try. “You died. You cannot reverse death.” 

“It is not reversed. I am still dead.” He wants to kiss you, but the fleeting warmth of your skin as you try to pull away and the soil and filth that rests upon his face shies you away with a flinch. “I can be yours again.” His fingers grace over the rot along your face. 

“It doesn’t make sense.” 

“I proposed that I would never part from you, and you I, even after death.” He holds the ring close to your face before he takes your hand. He rests it against your knuckles, perhaps admiring how the silver still shimmers against your skin. “It was a vow.” 

A vow, he says. Your face scrunches up in frustration. “I never married you.” 

“Marriage or not, the ring was a promise of my word, and you kept it all these years.” 

He takes your fingers gently before he parts them and slots the ring where it belongs. It nestles gently close to your knuckle and you swallow. Your finger felt strange without the piece, and wearing it again after only minutes satiated that discomfort. 

His face is… nothing you remember. 

His eyes are barely the same as they were before, and you turn away when he draws close again with a shaky breath.  

“Are you afraid of me?” He’d asked you that many years ago, many times. 

Even now, you feel the same. “Should I be?” You look out towards the dead fields, and you feel something cold bump against your cheek. 

His nose squishes against your skin when he kisses you close to your ear. “No.” 

It is only then through a gentle whisper and his lips do you muster the courage to look at him. He is so different. 

But, he’s still yours. 

“Are you the same man you were five-hundred years ago?” you ask him. 

He leans in as close as he can and his nose brushes against yours. His fingers lock tight around your hand and he squeezes; the silver ring imprints on your finger. 

He smiles, and you fall in love again. 

“I can be.” 

[howlingday]

Ruby's Birthday Present

Ruby: Haha, you know, it's funny! For a second there, I thought maybe you and Raven had a thing, but you seem way too young for that! So, uh... ha ha... Uh...

Raven: ...What about it?

Ruby: Wait... So you're saying... I think I'm gonna be sick...

Jaune: Don't worry, Ruby! I'm actually 21~.

Ruby: Raven, I've known this for quite a while, but... you really are a terrible person.

Raven: Oh, calm down, Rose! He's not here for me! He's here for you.

Ruby: M-Me?!

Raven: Hm... You're a lot smaller than I was expecting... I'm not really sure what I can do with this...

Ruby: (Thinking) WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!

Jaune: Oof... This is definitely going to be hard to work with-

Raven: KHM! KHM! WE'RE IN PUBLIC.

Jaune: Oh, right!

Raven: Remember, giving gifts like this to Beacon students is illegal.

Jaune: Don't worry~! If you won't tell, I won't tell~!

Ruby: (Thinking) Okay, calm down, calm down. Raven's a teacher and a responsible adult. So there's no way she'd order me a...

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

Raven: I was able to convince one of my... special friends into giving you something special for your birthday. It's time you became a woman, Ruby Rose.

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

Ruby: OH MY GOD! SHE ACTUALLY GOT ME A-

Jaune: Well, if you'll follow me, my tent is over this way! (Walks away)

Ruby: ...

Raven: Happy birthday, Rose!

Ruby: Raven, you didn't...

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

Ruby: So how long have you known Raven?

Jaune: For a while now. She and my dad used to do jobs together, and I can't deny that there's something about her that inspires me. That's why when she asked me to do something special for your birthday, I just couldn't refuse!

Ruby: Uh, well, I'm not 18 until tomorrow, so...

Jaune: Heh heh, you're so cute, Ruby!

Blake: You're not thinking of doing anything The Brothers wouldn't condone, are you?

Jaune: ACE-OPS?! Wait, Blake, what are you doing here?

Blake: Where there is sin, I am there to rectify.

Weiss: And to keep track of any slutgirl activities that may be happening.

Yang: I don't want my baby sister hopping cashing in her V-card on a literal stroke at midnight.

Ruby: No, no,no! You've got it all wrong! He's just a friend of Raven's!

Jaune: Yeah! She actually hired me for Ruby's birthday to-

Ruby: TH-THROW ME A PARTY!

Ruby: (Whispers) Do you have no shame?!.

Jaune: (Whispers) Not really, no.

Ruby: Look, maybe we should keep the whole birthday thing under wraps, okay?.

Jaune: If you say so.

Ruby: Also... You wouldn't happen to know a way out of this mess, would you?.

Jaune: I might have an idea...

Jaune: So... I may or may not have hooked up with Raven in the past...

Ruby: Wait, you were being serious?!

Jaune: Any of you girls want the gossip on that?

RWBY: HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUH?!

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

Jaune: I'm gonna go get ready. You wait right here, okay?

Ruby: Raven... You've done a lot of terrible things to me, but... this might just make up for it.

Jaune: Hm... Where did I put it? Ah, I hope it fits...

Ruby: Okay, Ruby, don't be nervous. You've got this! Just remember size doesn't matter... too much.

Jaune: Are you ready, Ruby~?

Ruby: Oh, yeah, but... I'm still kinda new to this, so maybe we should take this slow?

Jaune: Ruby, don't worry! I've planned for everything! Here!

Ruby: (Sees box) Whoa! He even carries protection! He really is a professional!

Jaune: Here, try it on! (Slips band on wrist) And now, just press the green button.

Ruby: This is getting kinky!.

Ruby: ...I like it.

Ruby: (Presses button, Plates cover arm) AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! Oh...

Jaune: Well, Ruby, how does it feel?

Ruby: Like the Winter Soldier, but what is it? Some kind of sex toy? This isn't for butt stuff, is it?

Jaune: Ha ha ha! No, silly! It's a gauntlet I made that will allow you to use residual kinetic force for an even bigger punch! It's a birthday present from Raven and I~!

Ruby: Ah... Wait! THIS is my birthday present?!

Jaune: That's right~!

Ruby: So you're not a prostitute Raven hired to have sex with me on my birthday?!

Jaune: ...WHAT? THE? FU

[babsvibes]

To see your fortune, keep reading. Thank you @drawthething for the perfect spooky cute graphic, and happy halloween!

The Jack-O’-Lentil Burger

Lemme see, gimme your hand, come on come on. Oh. Oh wooow, yeah I’m getting some big energy here. Huge. It’s saying… you want an ice cream sundae with lots of chocolate sauce and nuts on the side. Or wait, maybe I’m just hungry. Or wait! Maybe not. This could be a sign that you should look for the sweeter things in life. Do it on purpose! Say “I’m gonna be sweet to me” … no go on say it. “I’m gonna be sweet!” There you go, there they are. Hey maybe you can find a bunch of trick-or-treaters and swipe a candy or two, haha! Just kidding… To enjoy the sweeter things in life, reblog fanart you enjoy with something nice in the tags!

If Looks Could Kale Burger

And that’s when I tell Ginger “hey, who’s the one driving this mustard on wheels” and she goes- huh? Ohhh, right right, the fortune thing, right. You should, uh, avoid dark tunnels and also take an umbrella. For the dark tunnel. Wait no don’t go in the dark tunnel. Wait, let me see your hand again. To always have an umbrella if you need one or don’t, find one of your favorite posts and reblog it again!

Beets of Burden Burger

Oh! Ah, nuts. You, uh, might not like this one. You’re going to lose something soon. It's not the end of the world, but it’s not fun either. Like, oh, one time I lost Gene’s favorite nickel. That was a rough two weeks. He couldn’t even be bribed with special crackers! Sorry, hon. To find your lost item or Gene’s favorite nickel, spend three minutes with a project you’re working on!

Texas Chainsaw Mass-Curd Burger

Look at you, so pretty, such a lovely face. And your hands! Oh, I’d kill for these hands. Not that I would, no I wouldn’t… maaaybee :) Okay, let’s see. Oooo I love it, you’re going to get good news soon! Maybe from me because I won’t steal your hands? Probably not, but there is good news coming. Alriiight, good one! To keep Linda from stealing your hands, leave a comment on one of your favorite fanfics!

Rest in Peas Burger

Uhhn yuhh yuhh gagaga oo… I got it! You know that thing? You know, the thing? Yeah, I think a solution is coming your way. But you might not like it. What’s important is that you look on the sunny side, and there is a sunny side! That’s what I tell my Bobby all the time. He uh… he’s getting there with the whole cheery thing. Sorta. To enjoy a "Keep Your Sunny Side Up and Your Cloudy Side Down, Stay Positive, Bobby, Things Are Gonna Be Okay Burger,” spend three minutes with a project you’re working on!

Every Breath You Tikka Masala Burger

Come on, what do we got? Hmmm, oh yeah it’s coming to me. I’m seeing… three bats and a purple tophat. The bats can’t wear the tophat. It doesn’t fit their head. Oh god, they’re trying anyway. Don’t do that, little bats! You’ll get smooshed! N- oh, no, okay yeah they’re fine. And they’re so cute, awww dressed up in their hats, adorable. I think that’s a good thing? To… accept whatever that was, share a draft that you’re proud of!

Sympathy for the Deviled Egg Burger

You might need to give me a minute, my brain bucket feels busted. Tina’s got a spooky secret admirer, and we’ve been trying to figure out who it is all day. Being a fortune teller isn’t an easy job, but neither is being a mom! Haha! Noo I love it, I love it. Maybe your fortune should be thanking someone who has helped you grow? Hmm, I AM getting a strong sense of loyalty. Maybe check in on someone, and make sure to let them know how you’re doing too. To spread the love, send a kind ask to a blog you admire!

Onion-Tended Consequences Burgers

Oh my god! Is this blood on your hands?! Or is it… tch, it’s just a bit of ketchup, so silly! Are you a prankster or a murderer? You were just eating fries? Yeah okay, sure sure sweetie… um, your fortune is that sometimes people jump to conclusions. Sometimes even you. Take a second and remember most people are just being a little silly, not intentionally mean. And most people are definitely not going to tell their husbands they met a murderer today. To get away with any other alleged crimes, post a headcanon or find one you enjoy and share it!

Human Polenta-Pede Burger

Mmmmhhhmm mmm umuinimumunim. Oh no. Sweetie, I’m so sorry, but you’re going to get food stuck in your teeth. And it’s going to be green! And the waiter’s going to see! Oh this is horrible, maybe we can take your teeth out? No, no we can’t do that… To laugh it off with the waiter, spend three minutes with a project you’re working on!

I’ve Created a Muenster Burger

Now this is a juicy one! Did you do something a liiittle naughty? Something involving the letter M? Or J? Or B? Oh yeah, I can tell, but that’s okay! Everyone has a bit of a wild story they’re hiding. Like this one time, I turned my back on Louise when she was a baby for two seconds! Two! And the next thing I know, she had crawled on top of the fridge with a packet of Froo Froo Fruities snacks and refused to come down. Can you believe that? Ohhh, but she was fine. She doesn’t even remember the bump she took coming down, so it all turned out okay. You’ll turn out okay too, I promise. To lessen the swelling, recommend a fanwork to someone!

[annie-creates]

Halloween night tradition

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader

Genre: fluff

Words: 700

Note: I refuse to aknowledge anything after the fourth episode. This is a Halloween gift to you and especially everyone who is as deeply hurt and disappointed in the show's ending as I am.

The evening was growing closer as the sky darkened, first shining stars visible through the reddish clouds of the setting sun. Your wife was not yet back from her errands, something you warned her would happen, yet she didn’t take your advice into consideration. That’s after all how you got yourself into the argument this very morning. You wanted her to stay home today to help you with all the chores, but she was adamant on going out and doing god knows what, even when she saw how many tasks you had on your hands for the day.

As you dry your hands from the sink water after cleaning all the dishes, you go out into the garden to take down the fourth dried load of clothes you washed today. You can’t help but think it’s kind of selfish of Agatha to leave you here all alone to deal with all the work yourself while she run around enjoying her magic and wreaking havoc, or whatever she was doing right now. She comes through the front door just as you’re taking the heavy basket full of clothes to be folded inside, signing heavily as you stretch your overworked back. You slump into the sofa, getting the first break in the whole day, Agatha clearly much cheerier in her mood than yourself.

“Hey,” she calls to you sitting on the other side of the couch.

“Hi,” you scoff, your tone annoyed with her cheerfulness.

“Oh come on baby, what got you so pressed?” she tuts at you, not getting the hint you’re still angry with her.

“I don’t know, maybe my wife leaving me here all day alone to do all the house chores while she enjoys her day outside not even considering me?” you contemplate. “No, it couldn’t be that, no loving wife would do that.”

“Come on now, you can’t seriously still be mad at me?” she chuckles a little, now seeing the hurt in your eyes.

“I am. You left me to deal with everything and you have the audacity to…” you’re cut off by Agatha cupping your face in her hands.

“Baby I’m so sorry I didn’t help you today, but I’ve got something that will make it all worth it, I promise,” she tempts you.

“I seriously doubt that…” you stubbornly fold your hands over your chest but follow her outside none the less, curiosity taking the better of you.

“Look what I’ve got!” Agatha shows you two old tree branches of a decent size. “It’s broomsticks! For our Halloween night flight!” She clarifies noticing your confused expression.

“What’s wrong with the ones we already have..?” you shake your head.

“Come on love, you deserve something brand new, the best,” she persuades you.

“Okay, fine,” you playfully roll your eyes, slowly forgetting you were mad at her.

As you perform the ritual together, giving your makeshift brooms to each other in an act of selflessness, you can’t really be annoyed with her for long. Taking of the ground as the night falls, hidden by the clouds of darkness, you realize she probably got new brooms just to have a chance to perform the ritual with you again and it unexplainably warms your heart. It was true this was your Halloween tradition and even when your wife wasn’t perfect in many ways, she never forgot any of the little things that made you happy. Watching her eyes sparkle under the light of stars you swum in, there was no one who could ever compare to her and you felt your love for her pouring over your edges like the brightest star.

“I love you,” you exclaim flying closer to her, your shoulders almost touching.

“Well I’d hope so we’ve been married for seven years,” she playfully nips but you can see the reciprocated love in her eyes. “I love you too.”

Leaning over a little to give her a sweet kiss you feel her soft lips on yours, her adoration for you noticeable in everything she does. You both had your mistakes but there was no one who could understand them better than the woman right next to you. And she loved you over every single one.

[onehelluvahater]

First thoughts on Helluva Boes S2: E10 “GhostF**ckers”

This is my points as I watched the whole episode in a very quick copy and pasted from my Notes app thing? Idk I’ll have to rewatch to give a better analysis and shit

Spoilers of course but also it’s vague and shit my bad

1. So does Veronica still work at the same building? Her crew is still there but from what we know it’s a run down building that’s very cheap and run down. Did she just not move yet? It’s been so time since that episode so I don’t see why not.

2. I love Moxxie but calm your shit little man

3. I’m literally like two minutes and so much yelling so much screaming— Viv loud doesn’t equal funny unless your audience is literal children

4. Aww poor baby Blitzo nah just fucking with you I really don’t give a fuck about him and his poor little pity party

5. Loona being a bitch as always and are we FINALLY GETTING A MILLIE EPISODE!?!?

6. I’m sure I don’t need to say “We’re in hell and we don’t believe ghosts exist?”

7. Oh boy Moxxie is having another fucking breakdown like every single episode he’s in

8. Okay the desk scene did get a little laugh out of me but just by the facial expressions of Blitzo

9. Where is Blitzo tail…? So is he wearing pants or? I’m confused on the outfit

10. Dude we get it you wanna say the r word and shit like that but keep it in your mans Viv and did he even mean by the f word? Phantom doesn’t start with an F

11. So the best fighter in the show and two characters that took down most of the Geek squad whatever that was, can’t fight two old people?

12. This song is so fucking annoying

13. Please stop it

14. My ears are bleeding

15. YES MILLY

16. YELL AT HIS ASS

17. I LOVE HER

18. YES SUFFER BLITZO

19. oh shit

20. SUFFER THO BLITZO FUCK YOU

21. Ohhh Millie backstory

22. Again she is supposed to be literally the best fighter on the team she should be kicking his ass a helluva (lol) lot more then this bruh

23. LIKE KILL HIS ASS GIRL

24. I do like the shorter hair style

25. Moxie isn’t a wrath Imp

26. But this is all very sweet I guess? Idk it just feels weird

27. In all honesty, all she says just submit the weird power and balance between the two of them. She feels like she’s owes him for her whole life here, For getting together with moxie and her new life. Him just being a creep as her boss and knowing all of that because she fucking says it to him just submits how creepy that is really is because if she says no to him, he could take away that job and maybe even Moxie.

28. Girl he don’t respect you don’t kid yourself

29. And the tail is back

30. Oooo I do like the design that was a cool shot

31. But also what the fuck is an investor demon? We have never once saw or heard of them before this. They are not in the hell hierarchy

32. FINALLY SHE CAN ACTUALLY FIGHT

33. and there she goes again

34. EWWW

35. Yes torture him more please 🙏

36. Again just kicking her ass again

37. I mean she can obviously tell it’s not him and she can’t even kill that will anyway lmao she’s literally getting her ass kicked anyway

38. BREAK HIM MILLIE

39. oh god

40. Okay the pool part was funny and an effective way to kill him

41. THANK GOD HE WONT DO THAT

42. me too moxie I hate math and love musics

43. BUT FUCK NO AM NOT SITTING THRU ANOTHER SONG

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

First Of Many

Bud Cooper x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Kinktober 2023 Masterlist • Day 30: Cunnilingus 

Summary: Bud forgot a file at work, you take a trip to bring it to him.

A/N: This was meant to be for kinktober 2023 (I'm so sorry). This is so badly not beta read, I cannot stress. I am cutting this one so fine timewise.

Warnings: reader works with Bud, kissing, oral, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 1713

You race down the pavement, rain soaking into your skin. You’re practically a drowned rat at this point, sodden and cold. 

You have the case file wrapped tightly to your chest, under your coat and thankfully in a metal carry case - safe from the rain. 

Bud had forgotten it when he’d left, you knew he’d need it for Monday morning and probably wouldn’t even notice he hadn’t picked it up over the weekend. Not that the offices would be open even if he did. 

So, with your boss’s permission, you’d looked up Bud’s home address and made your way. It hadn’t been raining when you got on the bus, but when you got off the storm clouds had been looming. 

Finally, you reach his house. His car is parked in the drive, which is a small mercy. At least you know he’s in. 

You duck under the shelter of his porch and ring the bell.

He's surprised when he opens the door to you, but he smiles. And it's utterly disarming. 

“Hi, erm, I, so, you left…” All the practised sentences you'd gone over in your mind on the way here fall out of your head the instant you need them. “Here.” You hold out the metal case file and quickly realise he has no idea what's inside. “I…” 

“Come in, come in, my god, you're soaked.” He ushers you inside, giving you a sympathetic look. 

“I don't want to be any trouble-”

“No trouble at all.” He closes the door and turns to you. It's upsetting how good he looks out of his work clothes, part of you hoped that his allure was just from the pressed suit and ties he wore. But it seemed you were down bad. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure, and to your obvious distress?” He smiles as he talks and you get lost in the expression for a moment. 

“Distress?” 

“You racing through a storm?” 

“Oh… you forgot, erm, the Brandle File.” you hold up the box again, your hands shaking slightly from the cold. Rain water drips from your clothing onto his clean carpet and you wince. “I asked Mr Johnson, he gave me permission to drop it by, I know it's not professional, I don't mean to barge into your home and-”

“Hey, hey,” He looks at you warmly as he takes the box from you and puts it on the floor. His fingers brush yours and he hisses, “You're freezing!”

“I'm sorry.”

He tuts. “Don't be sorry, you'll catch your death.” He gives you an apologetic look, “all this because I haven't got my head screwed on right.” 

“N-”

“I'm not taking any excuses from you for my behaviour.” He grins. “Now I'm being a terrible host.”

He ushers you upstairs and to the bathroom, handing you a laundry basket  towel and dressing down. “Take a hot shower and bring your clothes down in the basket, I'll get them washed and dried for you.” 

“Mr Cooper-”

“Bud.”

“Bud, I-”

“I'm not taking no for an answer sweet pea.” He smiles and leaves the room. 

You sigh and stare at the full basket in your hands. It's not really like you have much of a choice.

“Use my soap if you want to!” He calls out halfway down the stairs.

The shower is wonderful, warm and soothing, and when you're done you ring out your work clothes as best you can before you put them in the basket. 

The towel dressing gown is massive, it could easily fit 4 Bud's inside standing side to side, and still have room for more. It's soft and warm, and there are a pair of warm socks rolled up inside it. You put those on as well. 

You hang your towel up on the side, and panically try to make sure you've put everything back in the exact place it was before you head downstairs.

It's only when your foot is on the first step that your anxiety bubbles up, nearly paralysing you. You're naked under the dressing gown. In his house. You double check the tie around your waist, making sure everything is secure. 

He’s in the kitchen, bent down checking something in the oven so you have a first seat view of his ass. 

God was teasing you.

“Erm, I,” 

Bud spins around, still all smiles, he’s got an apron on over his house clothes that has ‘kiss the cook’ printed on it in fancy lettering. “I’ll take those, get them washed and dried for you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to.” You hate how timidly your voice comes out.

He waves a dismissive hand at you before he takes the basket. “It’s the least I can do, would you like to stay for dinner? There’s more than enough, I’ll drive you home after.” He pauses, “Not that I’m insisting on you staying, you’re more than welcome to keep the dressing gown and I’ll take you home right now.” 

“No, I,” you smile a little bashfully. “Are you sure I’m not imposing?” 

He shakes his head happily and busies himself by sitting you down in the living room with a hot drink before he goes to the laundry room. You have to practically beg him to make Bud stop from hunting down the spare portable heater for you. 

You have a sneaky look around the room while he’s gone, just out of interest. There are a few photos, friends and family, a couple of small knick knacks. 

You smile at him when he comes back in the room, “You have a lovely house.”

“Ah,” he shakes his head, “It’s not very homely. Needs some care.” He taps the door frame affectionately. 

“Well, I think it’s lovely.” He puffs his chest out a little. “Thank you.” He takes a few steps closer to you, “Oh that’s Frank, he’s an old friend.” He points to the photo you were looking at. “Fishing trip last year.”

“You like fishing?” 

“Hate it,” he chuckles, “Frank loves it, I think you can see by my face there, I’m not a fan.” 

You giggle. 

“I mean, I like the beer, and the talking and the peace and quiet, but it was fucking freezing there even though it was the middle of May. I nearly lost toes to frostbite.” He pauses, admiring your smiling face. “Thank you for bringing the file, you’re too sweet.”

“Oh,” you shrug. “It’s nothing.”

“I don’t think so, I don’t know anyone else that would do that for their boss, let alone for someone that isn’t your boss.” 

You shift a little, biting your lip, trying not to let your embarrassment bubble up and overwhelm you completely. “Well…” 

“I think…” Bud smiles, lightly touching your cheek and titling your head up so that you meet his gaze. “You might have a soft spot for me?” 

You freeze, unable to look away from his soft eyes. 

“I know I’ve got one for you.” He breathes, leaning a fraction closer. “Do you think I could try a little something, just to make it up to you? Repay you for the favour?” 

“I…” You swallow. “It was no problem…”

“Please?” He smiles sweetly, you didn’t notice him take a step nearer, but you moan softly when he presses his lips to yours and groans. 

It barely takes a moment before he’s licking into your mouth and walking you backwards to the sofa. 

He presses you down gently before he climbs on top of you, kissing you senseless. It’s like he’s everywhere, all at once, stroking and sighing as you lean closer and wrap your arms around him. 

His fingers trail down, then up your legs, lightly pushing the dressing gown higher. He breaks the kiss, breathing hard. “Can I?” He asks softly, once more looking at you with those heartbreaker eyes. 

You nod, not trusting your voice. Part of you is so sure you shouldn’t be doing this, but the other doesn’t give a single fuck. 

He grins happily, scooting down and pushing your clothing higher, and up to your hips. Anxiety begins to swirl and settle, but Bud groans, his eyes rolling back for a second. 

“Fuck me, if this isn’t the prettiest cunt I’ve ever seen.” He licks his bottom lip before he dips down, his warm hands pulling your right thigh onto his shoulder. 

You gasp as his mouth touches you and grab at the cushions as he places a soft, light kiss to your clit before he flicks out his tongue. 

“Taste so good too.” He mutters, lightheaded. Something about the taste of his own soap mixed with your skin is driving him crazy. He laps again, a long slow lick through your folds that he savours while he pushes at his hardening cock with the heel of his hand. 

The little whimper that escapes your throat makes him feral, makes him want to push and push until all he is pulling from you is those sounds. 

He moans happily, watching you with lidding, hazy eyes as he licks, flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue after every swipe. 

“Fuck,” you squirm, breathing hard and trying to get closer to the sweet warmth of his mouth. He grins, pressing closer to you and kneading the back of your thighs with his hands pushing you up and nearer, letting you rock and ride exactly how you want to. 

“Bud, please,” your toes curl, pleasure shivering along your limbs, mixing with the pent up anxiety to hurtle you towards your peak. 

He moans against you, the vibrations running up your nerves. Your legs part to shake, moving without your control as the sensation builds and builds and builds. You throw your head back, your spine arching as pleasure explodes out and along your skin, bathing you in its soft glow. 

You come hard against his mouth, rocking and pulsing as he continues to lap and lick, whining ever so slightly when your cum finally hits his tongue. He slows his movements only stopping when your muscles relax.

“Fuck,” he wipes his mouth greedily, already craving your slick on his tongue again. “You know what, I don’t think I quite made it up to you enough.” He grins cheekily, “I think two or three more should do it.” 

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh

@romanarose @strangerhands @saturn-rings-writes ho

@steven-grants-world  @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @lunar-ghoulie

@silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin @apesarecuul @reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom

@alwaysmicado @mangoslushcrush @marc-spectorr @spxctorsslxt @novarosewood 

@pygmi-cygni @hammerhead96 @emma23 @sub-aro @killerdollz

 @maplemind  @mwltwo @loonymagizoologist @dameronshandholder @queerly-anxious

@homuraak3mi @swiftiegirliepop @oscarssimp @milkypompon @eternallyvenus 

@mandytrekkie @lounilu @avengersinitiative2012 @pigeonmama @marcsb1tch 

@iolaussharpe-24 @chaithetics @DowBaStan @faretheeoscar @lonelyisamyw-0love 

@queerponc @twwcs @Spnwhore2430 @mari-thesimp @ominoose

@ierofrnkk @have-you-seen-my-sanity @to-be-a-sunshine @blushingrn @missdictatorme

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[dootznbootz]

LOVED the Vengeance saga, hated Calypso's song I'm sorry

**is being creepy and obsessive over a man who's clearly in distress and doesn't like her, as well as she ACTIVELY keeps him on her island for SEVEN YEARS against his will** "W-Well my love is just too much for you"

I get she didn't rape him in EPIC, but she was still terrible towards him and washing down to "her love was just too much for him" is a bit iffy to me :((

Honestly? I think "I'm Not Sorry For Loving You" is actually fantastic in showing HOW Manipulative and selfish she is.

She's doing a "Woe is me" with her loneliness, she is still somewhat putting the "blame" on Odysseus with her "My love being too much for you, sorry that you can't handle it", when it's straight up not taking no for an answer, she even constantly speaks over Odysseus. Yeah, she's "not sorry".

Even with her beautiful voice, (wonderful job Barbara Wangui!) and sweet melody, it's like she IS supposed to be this "perfect paradise, song, goddess, etc."

What really bothers me is Epic Odysseus' "I love you...Just not in the way you want me to".

I think there either needs to be more apprehension in his voice when he says that. Maybe even in Calypso's tangent, he realizes "oh shit, she's making the island do shit. oh think quick to calm her down." and then having to say "Not in the way you want me to." to still make it clear that he's leaving.

I hope we get an explanation from Jay for his wording here? Because while Odysseus did appreciate Calypso helping him heal and recover from being at sea without food and water for a while AND most likely injuries in general, like...He Never loved her.

In some ways, I almost wish we got a bit more of the Odyssey for his answer. As Calypso, basically mocks Penelope and "why do you wanna go back to her? She will age and I won't. this place is perfect. I am perfect."

And then Odysseus being like "...You're an immortal goddess, ofc, she can't compare to you. She will age and go old. But I will stop at nothing to get back home. I've already been through so much shit, if it means going home, I can go through more."

[...] But if you only knew, down deep, what pains you’d stay right here, preside in our house with me and be immortal. Much as you long to see your wife, the one you pine for all your days … and yet I just might claim to be nothing less than she, neither in face nor figure. Hardly right, is it, for mortal woman to rival immortal goddess? How, in build? in beauty?” “Ah great goddess,” worldly Odysseus answered, “don’t be angry with me, please. All that you say is true, how well I know. Look at my wise Penelope. She falls far short of you, your beauty, stature. She is mortal after all and you, you never age or die … Nevertheless I long—I pine, all my days— to travel home and see the dawn of my return. And if a god will wreck me yet again on the wine-dark sea, I can bear that too, with a spirit tempered to endure. Much have I suffered, labored long and hard by now in the waves and wars. Add this to the total— bring the trial on!”

(Book 5, Fagles)

Puttng in Fitzgerald's too because I wike it :3

"[...] If you could see it all, before you go -All the adversity you face at sea- you would stay here, and guard this house, and be immortal- though you've wanted her forever, that bride for whom you pine each day. Can I be less desirable than she is? Less interesting? Less beautiful? Can mortals compare with goddesses in grace and form?" To this the strategist Odysseus answered: "My lady goddess, here is no cause for anger. My quiet Penelope-- how well I know--would seem a shade before your majesty, death and old age being unknown to you, while she must die. Yet, it is true, each day I long for home, long for the sight of my home. If any god has marked me out again for shipwreck, my tough heart can undergo it. What hardship have I not long since endured at sea, in battle! Let the trial come."

Even his usage of just simply defending Penelope by saying "My Wise Penelope" and how he's still saying "Yep! You are a goddess! Penelope is mortal... I'm still going home!"

This is something I find interesting with Epic Odysseus on Ogygia: After he speaks of Penelope the first few times in "Love in Paradise". He doesn't really talk about her on Ogygia again. Even at the ending of "Love in Paradise", when he's about to "close his eyes", he doesn't speak of Penelope or anything. Which is like, his one driving force for living at this point, in the Odyssey and the Musical. He's just wracked by grief, when it's mostly the fact that he's fucking TRAPPED and can't leave to go HOME.

It makes me wonder if for Epic Odysseus, he is trying to not mention Penelope as much to keep Calypso's anger at bay. Especially when you think of how in the source material, Calypso mocks Penelope and he has to carefully word things to not anger her as a goddess yet still make it clear that he will leave. He wants to leave and he doesn't care if there's more shit he has to deal with. He has to try.

Or maybe it's a spell of some sort. idk. Especially as we have Odysseus once more singing about Penelope and how much he longs for her once he's off Ogygia. Just a thought :P

I almost get this weird vibe that Epic is making Circe more of a "villain" than Calypso (which yes. Circe did coerce Odysseus in the Odyssey and was trying to in Epic. I literally wrote a whole essay about it.) But like, in comparison, Circe in Epic is not nearly as bad as Calypso in Epic. Same in the Odyssey. Like Circe DOES eventually become an "ally" after Odysseus begs her to let him leave, Calypso had to be FORCED to let him go. IN BOTH EPIC AND THE ODYSSEY.

idk. funky feelings :/

[queers-gambit]

Ignorance is Bliss

prompt: turns out, you didn't care if they fucked - it's her job. you do, however, care that your husband's been confiding in her more than you. -> or in which your husband has an emotional affair.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female!wife!reader platonic pairing: Aegon Targaryen x mean!bestie!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

collection masterlist: Pumpkin Eater - coming soon!

word count: 3.2k+

note: because we don't explicitly see them fucking, this is an emotional affair. cool? cool.

warnings: kinda AU timeline so very small spoilers, alcohol consumption, Aegon's a gossipy little bitch, kinda mean!reader, self doubt, not all cheating is physical - this is a single variation. cursing, established relationship / wife!reader, relationship angst, generalized angst, hurt no comfort, feelings are hard. Aemond's a dick, ONE SHOT, abrupt ending, drama, technically friends to lovers, is this a toxic relationship? idk, maybe. not edited. requires maturity and caution.

"Oooooohhhhh, sis-teeeerrrrr! Sister, where art thou!?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," you snarled quietly, dropping the book in your hands to your lap in defeat. "Is nowhere sacred?"

"Sister! Sister, dearest! Hello? Your little handmaiden said you were down here! Wheeeeere arrreeeeee yoooouuuuuuuu?"

"This fucking lecher will wake the whole bloody Keep," you shook your head with a scoff. Then, with a raised voice, you called, "Over here, Aegon!"

"Who's here!?"

"Left!"

"It's dark - where's Left!?"

"Oh, Gods, walk straight ahead of you!" You watched as the King slowly revealed himself, turning every which way. "Okay, halt." He did, hands held out carefully. "Turn a little... No, no, over here, mate - to your left... Your left... Your LEFT! Aegon, your other left!"

"Oh, hoooo!" Aegon giggled when he spun in a complete circle before pausing upon his sight of you - sitting beneath the Heart Tree in the Godswood. "There you are, sister! Oh, you look glorious tonight!"

"Fuck off with your fake compliments, Aegon, what do you want?"

"Perhaps I am merely happy to see you!"

"You're never authentic, tell me what you want. Why do you seek me?"

"Well, that's no way to speak to your King."

"I am speaking to my brother-by-law."

"Not your friend?" He pouted dramatically before dropping to the spot beside you in the dirt, groaning, "Oh, how do you sit like this? It's - It's miserable. The bloody roots... Here, I got this, this will help, make it allllllll better," he wriggled around to pull his flask from his belt.

"How much have you had to drink tonight, friend?"

"Enough," he assured, taking a swig, "but this is mostly for you."

"Oh, I'm fine - "

"I think you'll need it, sister."

"Why's that?"

"I have something toooo telllll yoooouuuuu," he sang with a devilish grin.

"I truly don't care for petty gossip - "

"It's about Aemond."

"Spill, bitch."

"Okay, so," Aegon and you both readjusted to face one another in your respected cradles of the Heart Tree's roots, "do you know where he was tonight?"

"Am I to track his every move?"

"It was a mere question, sister, c'mon, play along and humor me."

With a sigh, you relented with a shrug, "He was... Supposedly in the library."

"Wrong," he handed over the flask, "he was in a brothel!" You lifted the flask to your lips and took a slow pull, narrowing your eyes in suspicion. "I swear it, we walked in on him! I would not lie to you! Well, not about this!"

Gulping, you pondered, "Hmm... Who's 'we'?"

"Myself and, uh, some of the Kingsguard who had yet to be blooded... If you catch my meaning."

"Everyone always catches your meanings, you wouldn't know subtly if it smacked you in the face," you chuckled dryly, taking another swig. "Where were you? Which brothel?"

"Sylvie's? Whatever her name is - the one with the lion's head door knocker."

With another nod of understanding, you asked, "And who was he with? Just one woman?"

"Yes, yes, just the Madam of the House."

"I see... Hm... Wait, do you mean - "

"The woman he lost his boyhood to?" Aegon snickered, "Yes!"

"I was going to say the brothel owner, but all right. Do keep in mind you're not just exchanging gossip, Aegon, but telling a wife you found her husband in a brothel," you sighed, nodding and knocking back one last shot.

"Right, no, you're right," he cleared his throat. "I apologize for sounding so... Um, uh, insensitive?"

You snorted slightly in amusement, knowing he never apologized to anyone but you because he never cared for what others thought. It was a foreign sound on his tongue, so you took mercy and moved on, sighing deeply and revealing, "In truth, my friend, I think I'm just shocked."

"Ah, well, that's to be expected, innit? Every wife is."

"Is yours?"

"No," Aegon snickered. "But I have to admit, after seeing how he pined and begged me to set you two up, I did not think my brother could ever be the type to cheat."

"Nor I. It's why I let you arrange our betrothal."

"Are you angry?"

"I'm processing."

"Well - "

"Aegon, shut your trap for just a moment," you pleaded. "It's a lot to take in and process, I'm unsure what I feel in this moment."

He paused and nodded, breathing deeply before taking a swig from his flask. "Are you angry at me, though?" Aegon asked softly, like a wounded child - akin to who he was on the inside.

"About what?" You asked patiently.

"Telling you...?"

You heaved a deep sigh, "No, no, my friend. I appreciate knowing, though, you took far too much pleasure in telling me."

"Well, in my defense, it was quite humorous to find him in such a position."

"I don't wish to know - "

"They were cuddling!"

You couldn't help the small chuckle that burst forth, asking his drunken person, "So?"

"Well, it's weird, is it not? To cuddle with a woman you pay to fuck you?"

"Some men have paid for weirder things, cuddling is the least of it."

"Are you trying to rationalize your husband's cheating?"

"No, just - defending different tastes?"

"You sound in denial."

"Perhaps I am."

"Have another shot," he insisted, nudging the flask closer.

"No, I should, uh... I should head back, confront Aemond."

"He might already be there, he left in a real big huff."

You sighed and nodded, "Tell me something in truth, please, Aegon?"

"Now would be the best time," he snickered, but nodded and gestured you to continue.

"Cheating doesn't mean he's... Unhappy, does it?"

"It could mean anything, everything, honey. Do you truly believe it's cheating when we aren't meant for just a single person to begin with?"

"What're you on about?"

"Well, no one person can be everything to anyone. Right?"

The entire walk to your chambers, Aegon's words echoed in your head. You had to admit, you understood where he was coming from, what he meant; but you hated the concept that cheating could be excused because humans weren't 'simply' monogamous. What a pathetic excuse, humans were capable of a great many things - being loyal and trustworthy among them! You oft heard it said you were only ever asking too much if from the wrong person, and the idea that Aemond was your "wrong person" to ask anything from gutted you in a surprising way. To say you were caught off guard was an understatement.

He was supposed to be your friend and husband, what happened to that trust?

You barged into your chambers, shutting the door in a flurried rush as you were desperate to speak with your husband; who you married at the age of ten-and-five after years of companionship. Your family had serviced the Targaryens for ages, it was only natural you grew alongside the newest brood; finding an unlikely, lasting friendship with Aegon, of all people. It was surprising, but the pair of you seemingly needed someone to lean on, so you developed a friendship to keep the other in line; something you obviously failed at.

YET - if Aegon would say humans are not monogamous, you'd argue humans had free will and made their own decisions. So, the little lecher should be held accountable for how he turned out as much as Aemond should be questioned about what was seen in the brothel.

It was Aegon who set you up with his brother. Aegon who supported your courtship. Aegon who instigated your engagement. Aegon who told you your husband was found in a brothel, cuddled up to the Madam... Naked.

Upon your inspection, Aemond wasn't back yet.

For mere fleeting moments, you despised being alone, finding the silence haunting; your chambers too big, too empty, too cold without your husband's usual warmth. However, the moment you thought of him in a whorehouse, laid naked with a woman not you, rage returned ten fold; burning bright and white-hot in your gut. You needed to nip this curious situation in the bud. Tonight. By confronting him. No matter how scary or anxiety inducing it surely will be.

So, you waited.

With a glass of wine, you settled in your living quarters; tucked on the loveseat with nothing keeping the thoughts at bay. They were terribly invasive, forcing you to relive your discovery and accept your husband preferred the company of whores over you. Forced to accept he was cheating on you. You waited.

Maids entered your chambers for nightly chores, even letting you remain in place, facing the door, when fixing your hair in loose braids for sleep. They turned your bed down, placed hot coals under the blankets, refilled wine decanters, and lit the candles in each corner of your suite. Aemond's prolonged absence might've been cause for concern if you hadn't been cursed to know where he was. You waited.

Yet that anger was dulling into something more alined with annoyance to learn he lied. "If he wants to fuck painted whores, let him fuck painted whores," you thought, "it's the lying and deception I am uncomfortable with! What need could he have for lying about his whereabouts? Was this an affair of some sort? Was it just my flesh he desecrated or our wedding vows, too? If he wanted to fuck whores, that was fine - it was just their job, they did this for coin. Yet if this was an affair of some sort - like the rumors of Prince Daemon and his mysterious whore he lifted from the ashes - I don't know how to move past that. Please, please, Gods, let this just be him wanting to fuck painted whores." You waited.

Your leg bounced, a fresh decanter of wine being presented and set upon the table you sat before. Nerves prickled your skin, tension coiled your stomach, heart hammering so intensely that it nearly beat out of every pulse point; so you reached for your chalice to quell the erratic speed in which everything throbbed. Polishing off any drop of wine, you felt warmed to your core - though, whether from the alcohol or anger, who could tell? You waited.

Your ladies maid lingered after the others filtered out; laying out an acceptable night gown, dressing robe, and house shoes the Dornish called "slippers". She tried to goad you into changing into them, but you insisted you would later. When she questioned you, you answered your business tonight was not yet concluded and you could not yet prepare for bed. Kindly, she asked if there was anything she could assist you with, but all that was left was to refill your goblet with a worried gaze before being dismissed for the night. Still, you waited.

Until, finally, after hours of isolation, your husband returned. He didn't seem to notice you yet, whipping off his cloak in a flourish only to drape it over the back of a perpendicular chair. When he noticed you, he jumped slightly, "Gods, love, what're you doing? I wasn't expecting to see you there."

"No shit."

"Why're you out here? Awake?" He asked, dropping into a padded arm chair so he faced you. In truth, you were grateful since either the wine or acute anxiety prevented you from finding your feet. "Oh, I see," he purred. "Can't sleep without me, can yah?" Aemond's lips curled at the corners.

"I'll sleep easier after you confess."

"To what charge, my darling?" Aemond reached for your thigh, but you swatted him away. With a sigh, he sassily requested in a quip, "It's been a long night, just tell me what you're upset about, I won't play these games."

"You're disrespecting the vows and sanctity of our marriage by visiting brothels! What an insult to spend the Crown's coin on such foul debauchery, Aemond, you were supposed to be a better man than this!"

He froze, staring at you without blinking. Then, slowly, Aemond asked, "What?"

"I know, Aemond! I know about Madam Sylvie." Then, to your shock and horror, Aemond chuckled; leaning back in his chair, hand raising to curl over his lips as if to hide his amusement. You shot out of your seat, "Oh, fuck you, then - "

"No, no!" Aemond rocketed to his feet, two long strides bringing him to your side. His hand grabbed your upper arm, "No, my love, listen to me - you do not understand - "

"You went into a brothel, it's not a riddle, there's nothing for you to explain nor for me to further understand, I am no fool," you snapped, allowing him turn you so you faced him.

"I did nothing of the sorts with her - with anyone."

"I'm not so ignorant nor foolish. You forget, I grew up with you and Aegon! Our own King Lecher!"

"I swear to you, my sweet wife, I have not lain with anyone since our marraige but you."

"How can you stand there and lie to me? Aegon saw you! Naked with her, in bed!"

Your husband took a deep and long breath, then told you slowly, "When I was ten-and-three, Aegon took me to the Street of Silk."

You nodded with a small roll of your eyes, "Yes, I know."

"The woman who I laid with - she's a Madam, yes, named Sylvie."

"So... You... You visit the woman you lost your virginity to?"

He sighed, "Yes, and I know it sounds strange."

"It's borderline wretched, Aemond, to us, this relationship. You are not making the case you think - "

"Please, allow me a moment to finish explaining?"

You've never seen or heard Aemond beg, so you nodded slowly, "Speak."

"I visit Madam Sylvie... Because she's the only other woman I've lain with. There's a certain level of... Comfort that goes beyond her payment. I lay with her, yes, but only together, in bed, without ever fucking."

"You just, what? Cuddle?"

"Yes."

This made you pause. With several flutters of your lashes, you asked, "W-Why?"

"I felt I was bringing home to you too much tension and strain... This war takes its toll on us all, so I go to Sylvie to unload and... Be vulnerable? Have an outlet?"

You're unsure how long you must've stood there in genuine confusion, earnest hurt, prolonged disappointment, but jolted when he tugged you forward towards the loveseat again. After he guided you to stiffly sit, you met his eyes with confused tears while he asked, "My love? Would you say something? Anything?"

"How... How long?" You managed to croak.

"Only a few visits."

"And you've not fucked her?"

"I've not fucked her."

"You just... Lay together, naked, and what? Talk?"

"Yes."

"W-What?"

"I fear I do not know what else I can clarify, love."

You just nodded and leaned back in your seat, sighing deeply. Aemond mimicked your position beside you and tentatively picked up your hand to hold. You swallowed thickly, asking, "So, you've not slept with Madam Sylvie?"

"No."

"You go to her for some kind of emotional comfort?"

"I suppose."

You nodded slowly. "You just talk... Naked, in bed, laid together, and talk."

"Yes. It is a grave comfort in this time of uncertainty."

You couldn't help but snip, "And I do not provide such comfort?"

"Darling girl - "

"What do you speak of to Madam Sylvie that you cannot speak to me about? What comfort can she provide that you cannot seek in me? What insights to this war can she provide that you cannot hear from me?"

Aemond froze, blinking in shock and letting his thin lips part without words. "It is... You are not serious, are you?" He suddenly snipped.

"Deadly," You assured.

"You're angry at me for speaking to another woman?"

"It's more than that and you know it. You lay in a private bed of a public whorehouse, naked! Open! Vulnerable! You speak to her as you do a wife - as you do me! You seek her ear when you neglect mine own!"

"Do you hear yourself?" He chuckled cruelly. "I have never fucked her, yet you grow angry - irritable! You pick this fight with me when all I do is unload my burdens - "

"What burdens!? What burdens do you have that I do not already know of!? That you cannot speak to me about?"

You both stood off the loveseat - taking several paces in opposite directions to distinguish space and sides of this fight. "Perhaps that is what I seek! An unbiased ear! An opinion untainted by the venoms of the vipers of the Red Keep! Someone removed, uninvolved! Someone on the outside that - that - "

"That will what, Aemond? Take your side?"

"Yes! Perhaps that is something I seek!"

"You pay a woman to tell you woe is me!?"

"You make it sound so vain - "

"How would you phrase it, then!?"

"That I need an outlet! With everything going on, I needed something more!"

You nodded sarcastically, "Well, you'll be needing her for more than an emotional outlet from now on, won't you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Aemond watched you storm away, following hot on your trail, barking, "Hey! Don't walk away - I'm speaking to you!"

"You know," you pushed into your bedchambers, "I didn't think you'd be the one to belittle my feelings so easily!"

"I fail to see how this is even an issue! Why're you - what're you doing, now!?"

"You being blind to my feelings is why I think we should spend a few days apart," you snarled, shoving a few items into a carpet bag and rushing in a flurry to grab necessities and comforts of 'home'.

"Fine."

You paused, glaring at him and asking, "What? That's it?"

"You wish for a fight?"

"Anything - "

"I told you, I will not play games. So, fine; leave," he shrugged. "I certainly won't be."

"Oh? That so?" You challenged - obviously already planning on leaving, but wanting to test him.

"I'm the Prince," he eased, "you're the one married into this family, I will not be the one to vacate these chambers. So, fine, flee, go, take your things and be gone. I'll send for the maids and have a chamber prepared for you, take your time packing the rest of your items."

You watched him charge from the chamber and slowly lowered onto the edge of the bed behind you; crumpling the laid out nightclothes while pulling the carpet bag closer to your chest. Blinking rapidly, you fought back tears and decided that perhaps your marriage was too far gone if your husband was so willing and nonchalant about you wanting distance post his breech of trust. He had evidently emotionally moved past you, something you hadn't realized was happening in real time before it was too late; and now, you were left to reel in the aftermath.

Why did Aegon have to tell you? Why did you have to know? They say Ignorance is Bliss, and if you didn't know, you and Aemond would be right as rain right now. He could have all the alone time with Madam Sylvie he wanted and you'd be none the wiser. But now that the cat was out of the bag, you were cursed with knowledge and felt incapable of processing, accepting, and moving forward in the wake of this emotional betrayal.

You didn't see Aemond the rest of the night, just the nightshift maids, errand boys, and guards who helped you gather your belongings and usher you into a new chamber... Three floors away from Prince Aemond, further evidence he perhaps did not intend to mend the tattered threads of your torn matrimony.

requesting rules and masterlist

Pumpkin Eater collection masterlist - coming soon!

HOTD masterlist

NO INTENDED SEQUEL - give me time!

[thesleepyfable]

~ SWTD: Still Here AU Part 22: ~

Reunions Part 2:

And now, it's Addair's turn. The next chapter will be a one-shot release for Halloween. It'll be out tomorrow.

Addair and Raffs had no reason to work together on The Beria, but on the farm, they oddly worked well together. Raffs thought Addair must have been a handyman in his previous life because he seemed to know everything. And not just from checking the fences.

When they passed through a deserted field, Addair's eyes caught the attention of a tractor that was beginning to rust. Instead of helping Raffs pry off the broken board for a new one, he lifted and examined the vehicle. From the punctured tires to the cracked clutch. Instead of being frustrated with Addair, Raffs was in awe of him. Not for the god-like strength he now possessed because he knew he could never come close to that, but for how knowledgeable he was.

He watched the engineer point out the faults and how he would fix them. Raffs was always willing to learn, and even if he'll never see farming in his future, it was a good way to break the ice with a man he was told to avoid.

'Will it ever run again?'

'After some trial and error, it might.'

'How do you know that?'

'I've only been an engineer for six years, Raffety. Before that, I did anything to scrape by.' That wasn't an original story. Like Caz, Roy, Innes, and possibly many others, they all came to the rig to either escape something or make a change. Raffs was different. He just followed Brodie. Brodie came for the prospect of money. Something that wasn't at all selfish in this economy.

As the pair finished their round, the sound of the snow crunching beneath their feet got closer. They didn't react at first, thinking it was Caz coming to help as Raffs began to hammer a nail into the post. That was until Addair heard the voice.

'Dad! Dad!'

Like with Gibbo, time froze, but unlike Gibbo, Addair turned with a smile on his face. He dropped the fence board he was holding, leaving Raffs to deal with it alone, and scooped up his son into a hug.

'Richard.' The youngest of his boys. Only seven years old. 'I missed you so much. Did you miss me?' Raffs was surprised. Not just because Richard didn't care what his dad had become, but because he had to remind himself that Addair was a member of the National Front. Looking at him now, you couldn't tell. Here, he was just being a good father. Who knew someone like Addair was a person under his political beliefs?

Richard nodded. 'Did you get my Christmas card?'

'Of course, and I let everyone know you made it. Now, where's Elliot?'

He knew where he was. It was a game the twins would often play. Richard would cause a distraction whilst Elliot tried to scare their dad. It never worked. Addair would either pretend to be scared or figure out his hiding spot. This time, it was the latter. Elliot had snuck is way around by going through the field. Raffs saw but didn't say anything. Instead of scaring his dad, Elliot felt a tendril wrap around his arm and be pulled up and over Addair's head. 'Oh, here he is.'

'Here I am!'

With a laugh, Addair brought his sons into a hug. Being the only one of two infected who still kept his arms had its advantages. Raffs smiled. It was a sweet reunion, but that soon came to a halt thanks to the voice of a woman only a few yards away.

'Calm down? How can I be calm?!' It was Jennifer. She stood beside her second eldest son, George, who looked both shocked and terrified by his mother's rage. Addair noticed, too, and set the boys down besides his work colleague. That was Raffs' cue to take them back to the house. 'My husband, your father, has been turned into that!'

Well, that stung. Still, Addair wasn't worried. He approached Jennifer, who had her back turned, and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. She flinched, turned, and took a few steps back. Okay. Now it hurt. Whatever remained of Addair's smile faded, and slight worry began to creep into his mind. He saw her eyes. She was scared, confused, and didn't know what to do with herself. This was Geroge's time to slowly step away and follow his brothers to the house.

'Jennifer. It's okay. It's just me.' She didn't reply. More worry. 'It's okay...'

'Stop saying that, Addair.' Now, complete worry entered his mind. She never called him by his name. Jennifer swallowed her fear, which was born from shock. But, now it was replaced with worry, but she couldn't bring herself to move. 'Look at what's happened to you. How are you okay?'

The words cut deep. Addair's jaw tightened, trying to hold himself strong to her words. A look of shame was in his eyes. Jennifer noticed and began to feel guilty, wondering why did she say such a thing. He wasn't okay, and they both knew that.

Addair carefully held out a hand and reached forward. 'But, it's still me, Jennifer. ' His hand rested on her cheek. After a moment, she leaned her face into him and, like Trots, rested her hand on his wrist. Her shoulders dropped, and she closed her eyes. She moved her head so that her face was in his hand. His smell was still there. Now, Jennifer didn't want to let go. Her fingers traced and touched his wedding ring. Tears swelled, but she stayed strong as she started to play with it.

Addair moved closer and adjusted his body to make it look like he was sitting. Carefully, he pulled and lifted Jennifer up and into one of his signature bear hugs. She clung to him, now no longer caring if she was hugging an exposed organ or blood vessel. 'Does it hurt?'

'No,' Addair answered truthfully. 'Not anymore.' More silence, as the pair enjoyed the moment. 'How's Tommy?' The question broke the hug. Jennifer's eyes were still full of tears.

'Still the same,' she replied as she began to unfurl her scarf to wrap it around Addair. 'The doctor said he still has brain activity, but apart from that, he's still sleeping.' A pause. 'I just want him to wake up.' Now, she began to cry, and Addair pulled her back into a hug. 'But that could take years.'

'And, we'll be there when he does. Okay? Please don't cry, Jenny.' Addair hated seeing his Goddess upset.

Of course, they had to think of Addair. How can he go back into society with a job, let alone go and see his son? That's what he wondered back when the fog was lifted. The question fueled his own anger towards Rennick, but Gibbo got to him first. But this wasn't about him anymore. He was just grateful to be back on land. He was grateful to have his wife in his arms and to see his sons smiling. The only thing they had to worry about now was Tommy.

He felt a kiss on his cheek that tightened the hug. They'll stay like this. At least for a little while.

[aayakashii]

*me at the aya trick or treat store* one haku treat please 🤲 (if there isn't any left, i'll get a trick instead ☝️) <3<3<3

Lazy days were good days. When the rain was just a little drizzle and the breeze flew freely through his dorm, Haku could loaf around just the way he wanted. The temperature was bearable, the sun was peeking through the clouds and he had a good book to read as the hours passed by, idle and peaceful.

Lazy days with you, however? Those were the best days, in Haku's opinion.

He lounged at his room's balcony, which stood right over Hotarubi's lake, with a book in his hand and you right at the corner of his view, dipping your toes into the water.

The splish splash of your feet kicking into the lake and the sudden gasps whenever a carp came too close and tried to nibble on you were the perfect background noises for that moment of peace.

And so were your rambles.

"Haku." You called out to him, and he immediately closed the book on his lap. A lazy smile was plastered on his face as he faced your back (he couldn't deny the lovesick allegations anymore).

"Hmm?"

"Did I tell you that Lyca managed to read another book without my help?" You said, cautiously eyeing the lake for any fish that could try to eat you alive (you were a little bit anxious, he knew that).

"Ohhh, is that so?" he said, sounding genuinely surprised. "I dont think you did. Was it the one about japanese folklore?"

"Nope, another one!" The smile that warmed your voice could melt him into a puddle. "I think Luca told him about a good book for his level, and he picked it up all on his own."

"Look at that. Aren't you the most successful mentor around here, motivating your pupil to read by himself." He teased, sounding smug even though his pride was anything but a lie.

"Oh shush. Please." You protested, kicking your feet quickly against the water, clearly embarrassed even if he couldn't see your face.

A moment of silence stretched between the two of you before you talked again.

"I think I wanna eat sushi soon." You murmured.

Haku had picked up the book again for a moment, but immediately dropped as he heard you speak.

"We can try to order it." He mused. "Or maybe we can see if someone around here knows how to cook it."

"I think we could order it. I don't wanna bother anyone with extra work."

"Did you think about eating sushi after those fishes tried to eat you?" He asked humorously, and you kicked your feet against the water even harder.

"Me, afraid of fish? Never! I can just do this and I'll scare all of them away from me" you said loudly over the sound of water splashing all over.

"Aren't you a brave one." He chuckled.

"Hhmmm..." you hummed, allowing the silence to stretch once again as you breathed deeply to calm down your racing heart after the sudden exercise you forced upon yourself.

"Oh, I–" you began to talk once again, finally turning around to look at your boyfriend, eyes wide once you saw Haku closing the book at the sound of your voice. "Oh my god. I'm so sorry, Haku. I didn't know you were reading!" Your face fell immediately, self-consciousness washing over your body.

Haku tilted his head, reaching out his hand to pull you closer to him.

"I am, but why are you apologizing?"

You allowed yourself to rest against his body, snuggling his chest. You eyed the book that was now placed by his side with extreme guilt.

"I've been yapping all afternoon non stop. I probably bothered you when you were trying to read." You said, sounding apologetic despite your voice being muffled against his chest.

Haku scoffed loudly and squeezed your waist before softly pinching your arm.

"Hey! What was this for?" You complained, leaning back to look at his face.

Haku's eyes softened as he placed his hand on the top of your head.

"When you talk, princess, that's the only thing that matters to me. Never apologize for talking. It's my favorite sound." He murmured, holding your gaze as he said those words.

You looked away, embarrassed, feeling too naked under his gaze, in spite of yourself.

Haku chuckled, observing the way your lips trembled as you thanked him quietly.

You still weren't used to his devotion. Maybe you never would be. And that's what made it fun.

[kirk-says-wah]

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐬

is this three months worth of fic recs? Yes it is because I’m so bad at remembering to post 🫠

Also, if you suddenly just got a comment from me, it’s because I’ve been really terrible at leaving comments lately I apologise but putting this together reminded me to do it!

I also haven’t started any multi chaptered fics in a while because I just don’t have the time right now to get invested in them 😭 but hopefully once I’ve finished Don’t Cry and my halloween fic I’ll be able to start reading longer things 💕

Anyways, here you go!

Purgatory by @aimbuddylist

- an interesting fic where Dave and James see each other in rehab. Their relationship is so dynamic and interesting! I absolutely adore it!

Too Far Gone by @thenaughtynun

- ahhhh a devilishly good threesome between Dave, Lars and Daddy James 🥵

The Problem With Flying by @ju1ian

- Dave and James meet on a plane. Shenanigans ensue. Someone throws up on someone. I love it

I Need Your Love by @taracsacum

- beautiful fic about Kirk and James working things out and getting closer. It’s so sweet 😍

Quarter After One by @ride-the-hammett

- omg this fic has me in a chokehold! It’s just so good! And theres so much drama! 😍

Eat Me Alive by @n3wstxd

- robbery gone wrong, or maybe it went right? 😆 anyway this literally has the best line of smut I’ve ever read in it!

spotlights by nopeleafclover

- UFO HUNTING!!! The vibes are just immaculate and I feel like I’m being pulled along for the ride in James’ truck

Of Wolf And Man by @ju1ian

- serial killer AU!!!! This is written so well! The characterisations are just *chefs kiss*

Spine Of God by @msgwendolenfairfax

- demon Robert Plant!! This is just so good, of course it was Kirk that summoned a demon 😆 but it’s so interesting to see how the demon approaches each of the boys!

A Viking’s Prize by @thenaughtynun

- Lars captured by Jarl James! A battle for his love! A strong hardened James finally letting himself open up to Lars’ love? GIVE ME MORE!!!! This fic is so gorgeous and I am eagerly awaiting the next chapter!

Suspicious Of Your Touch by @2ooled

- very hot Dave/Lars sex, I just love Dave using Lars to get off 🥵

chomping at the bit by @gorehoundhammett

- I don’t even know what to say, this fic just left me speechless, in a good way of course! The writing is immaculate and it’s also very hot. I could read it forever and ever

It Started With A Kiss by @ride-the-hammett

- HOT KLARS SMUT 🚨🚨🚨 honestly this fic is so good at teasing you and then giving you everything you’ve been waiting for at the very end! I enjoyed this a lot!!

Movie Night by @n3wstxd

- very hot, drunken smut, with a funny ending! This was so good!

Not For All My Little Words by @aimbuddylist

- I think I actually needed a lie down after the latest chapter oh my god! The writing is so very good, and very detailed, and it just makes me want to bash James and Jason’s heads together 😆 a very very good fic, and grief is also written so beautifully!

What He Deserves by @dethtallica

- James can’t control himself when Jason walks around in tight pants and I don’t blame him! Super hot Jameson sex 😍