#plum plays dark souls 3

[sadlazzle]

dark souls 2 is better than dark souls 3. send fucking post

#i am trying so hard to be nice abt this game and give it the benefit of the doubt #but it’s gettin to a fuckin point now #we’re pinning this. i don’t even care #plum plays dark souls 3

[calypsocolada]

SHAMELESSLY | f. dostoevsky

(final part in the series! click here for part one)

synopsis: after a demon escapes your grasp you hunt it back down. authors note: hiiiiiiiiii!!!!! thank u all so much for your nice words and such :3. this is the final part in this series so I hope you all enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it!!! cw: blood, gore, violence, suggestive, FLUFF, cussing, lil angst, fyodor is and always will be OBSESSED wit u ;) wc: 5.4k

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You’ve never worn a corset before and in this exact moment you knew why. You felt Yosano tighten the strings until you could feel the beating of your own heart. 

“I think that’s too tight.” You choked out as Yosano giggled behind you.

“No pain no gain, sweetheart.” She said, tightening it just a bit more. 

“I don’t understand why I need this,” You breathed out in exasperation. “It restricts my movements.”

“Stop complaining, after all it’s your fault the demon escaped.” Yosano teases as you let your eyes fall closed.

It was your fault, you let him trick you, let him touch you and steal the keys and now he’s gone. He’d been sending you things, flowers, chocolates, and whatever else all to taunt you. You feel Yosano grip your shoulders softly. “I was joking. He would’ve escaped one way or another, now you just gotta bring him back.” Easier said than done. You flopped down in a chair. Yosano fluffed up your hair and turned the chair around, tilting your head up by the chin. “Are you worried about seeing him again?” She asks. You remember his eyes, midnight plum, in the dark. His hand on your cheek, wiping blood from your face. He tricked you good. All of it was an act, to muddle your senses and leave you defenseless. It boiled you from the inside, left you angry and wanting. The anger was so palpable that it fueled your fire for the past two months since he broke out.

“No.” You answer truthfully, you couldn’t help the bitterness in your voice. Yosano tilted her head slightly.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you were. That demon is something to be feared.” 

“He’s something to be caught. Like a rat.” You quip as a grin breaks out on Yosano’s face. 

“Glad you think that way.” She remarks, pushing back to her feet, dusting off her skirt. “As you know our intel’s iffy,” Yosano starts. You’d been chasing dead ends for quite some time now. You joined back up with the agency out of guilt and disappointed your parents. They were of course upset that you lied about it for a while but you promised the moment you caught the bastard you’d be back home. “Sources say he’ll be at this masquerade tonight so you need to be on guard and be wary of using your powers since he knows about them.” You already thought of that. Fyodor is highly intelligent and you’re sure that if you finally found him there’s a reason that only he devised. So impossibly you had to be more cunning. You pushed to your feet, leaning to look in the mirror. Yosano did you up, you almost didn’t recognize yourself without the sleep deprived bags under your eyes. You looked fresh even though you haven't been sleeping much. You straightened.

“Good work, I look human again.” You remarked as Yosano snorted. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Now you better get going. Oh, and Y/n?”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t play hero, if you see him, stall him and wait for us.” Yosano advised, her voice deadly serious. You nodded your head but the only person that was going to slam the cell door in Fyodor’s face was going to be you. 

The masquerade was extravagant. That’s really the only word you could use to describe it. You never went to dances when you were younger, you always thought you were too cool for them but in reality you wished you went. Though you were sure a high school couldn’t put on something this enchanting...

As you walked in the large stone doors into the venue your breath stuttered in your chest. It looked like a story book come to life. Every single soul was dressed to the nines, intricate gowns with matching masks, velvet suits and cuffs. Not to mention the entire venue, large ceilings with stained glass windows, long vines hanging from tall statues of sculpted men and women with little to cover the intimate parts. There were hundreds of people lining the hall, some dancing and some laughing, drinking from fancy looking goblets, eating even fancier looking desserts. You swept down the stairs, pulling the mask over your eyes as you scanned every face you walked by. 

“I feel as though I walked into a different time.” You say softly, hearing a familiar crackle in your earpiece. 

“Yes, someone really outdid themselves.” Dazai answers. You maneuver your way through the party goers, swiping a drink and tipping the glass to your lips. It’s sweet at first but strong when it slides into your stomach. You set down the empty glass and grab another. “Go easy there, alchy.” You hear Dazai admonish and you can’t help but roll your eyes. You walked not one but two laps around the room and you were fast approaching to losing hope, that the iffy intel was just that, iffy. 

“He’s not here.” You say, hiding your lips behind the glass. You hear Dazai lean back in his creaky chair, probably putting his feet up on his desk. 

“Take one more lap around.” He directs and you do. You check every pair of eyes, searching for those midnight plum eyes, searching for the coal black hair and the cruel smile. But he’s nowhere to be seen and you feel like a fool.

Another dead end.

You grabbed one last glass before heading towards the door only stopping when someone slid into your path. 

“Leaving so soon?” Your attention snaps up to his face but the eyes are light blue. You don’t recognize this person but something in you stands at edge when he cocks his head to the side. “You look very pretty. Too pretty to not be snatched up to dance.” He offers his hand to you, his voice is familiar. Something in you twists and before you can say no your earpiece crackles again.

“Say yes.” Dazai asserts and you curse inwardly that you can’t ask why. You take in a sharp breath and hesitantly meet his hand. You watch his pink lips turn up into a cheshire cat grin as he yanks you, somewhat unkindly, to the dance floor. You weave through the crowd behind him and when he finally finds a place with a bit of room he spins around and pulls you to his chest. You gasp at the suddenness and force down any harsh words you have because maybe Dazai knows something you don't know about this man. A song starts in the distance, something slow and you force yourself to stay in this man's grip. One hand holding your own, the other sliding around your hip resting just above your ass. If he goes any lower you were going to tell him to eat concrete and with your powers he would. Slowly he pulls you into step, soft music caressing your ears. 

“Not much of a dancer?” He asks and you're annoyed that he noticed but you force a cordial smile and tilt your head.

“That noticeable?” You remark and he smirks as though you were complimenting him in his cleverness. 

“Not much, honey, you’re just a bit stiff. Do I make you uncomfortable?” He asks and it takes everything in you not to nod your head.

“No, I just haven’t danced in a while.”

“Why is that?” He inquires.

“Never been much for parties I guess.” You remark and he nods his head, spinning you around a bit too fast, he dips you in his arms and snaps you back up. You bit your lip hard enough to draw blood. 

“You’re too gorgeous to stay out of the limelight, you should be paraded around like an expensive jewel.” Paraded around? Did this guy think that was really a compliment? “If I had you I’d show you off to anyone that would listen.” He winks and you force a laugh that sounds slightly annoyed to your own ears. 

“Thank you, uh, I guess I never got your name.” You say and the man levels you with a look, his hand around your waist tightens just slightly. Even before he reaches up his hand to tilt up his mask your heart clenches. His voice, his eyes were familiar because you knew deep down who it was. Who it was holding you, paradeing you around the room like an expensive jewel just like he said. Someone who you thought was dead, your nightmares filled with his face. You spent weeks in the hospital because of this man, you quit the agency because of this man. 

Lord Francis.

He pulled you closer to him as he lowered his mask back, you froze like prey entrapped by a predator. 

“Honey, you look as though you’ve seen a ghost.” You had. He laughs at your stricken expression, the same laugh he gave you before beating you until you didn’t recognize yourself. “I’ve been waiting a long time to see you again.” His hand that's around your waist slides up your back and around until his thumb brushes your cheek. “I didn’t even leave a scratch on you, Pity.” Something bubbles inside but you're too terrified to act on it. What’s the use or your power if your lips are trembling too much to say something. “Oh, and,” His finger taps on your earpiece. “I hope you don’t mind that I jammed your radio there, we needed privacy.” You tremor at his touch, gaining back a bit of your bite. You part your lips to say something but he shushes you. “I wouldn’t. You use your powers here and I’ll just have my men execute everyone here one by one.” He smirks and all the fight in you dies. You stare at him hard. 

“What do you want?” You ask through clenched teeth.

“What do I want?” He echoes and you swallow dryly. He tilts his head. “Don’t tell me you don’t know, it’s obvious you are here for me.”

“I’m not.” You say defiantly and he laughs. You shove him back hard, he bumps into a few other couples dancing, looking at you as though you were some wild animal. He clenches his jaw, fixing his tie. He walks forward and you're reminded of why you held so much fear. You take a step back into someone.

“There you are, my love. I was just coming over to cut in but it seems you two are done dancing.” That voice. Your heart seizes. You turn and there he is. Midnight plum eyes, coal black hair, that cruel smirk. 

“I think we may have one dance left.” Francis hisses and when he takes a step forwards Fyodor moves gracefully right in his way, somewhat protectively, blocking Francis's path to you. 

“I think the lady should decide.” He intones, that accent hitting some part of you. You clench your jaw. Tonight was a night of surprises it seemed. Fyodor’s eyes slide to meet yours. His hair is styled to perfection, a loose strand falling in his eyes, a dark suit that fits him just right. He looked good but even the devil himself couldn’t get that out of you. “So which is it, my love?” A small feeling bloomed in your chest at the name. 

“Fuck you.” You cursed, eyes sharp. Two words you’d been saving just for him. All your waking and unconscious thoughts were about him,  he haunted your every moment. All that and you’d only spoken to him for maybe fifteen minutes before he tricked you. Francis scoffed a laugh and stepped forwards but stopped short. You extended your hand to Fyodor. “Can I have this dance?” You seethed begrudgingly. Between a demon and the actual devil you knew which to hedge your bets with. Fyodor looked smitten as he took your hand and swept you away from Francis. He didn’t drag you like Francis had and when he turned he softly pulled you into his chest, his hand wrapping around your waist and the fear you had with Francis diminished. Something far dangerous grew. 

“Did you get my flowers?” He speaks softly right near your right ear. You tightened your jaw. 

“Yes, I got your taunts.” You say exsaperatedly and Fyodor pulls back so he can look you in the eyes. 

“I wasn’t taunting you, my love, I was flirting.” 

“Writing, ‘come and find me’ on every note is your way of flirting?” You quip and he nods his head, pursing his lips.

“And you did, look at that, I feel so special.” He breaths. You tighten the grip you have on his hand as he moves you in step with the music. 

“I’ve looked everywhere for you.” You scowl and he tilts his head, letting his eyes fall closed as he breathes in. 

“How I’ve longed to hear that.” He says, opening his eyes and spinning you when the music picks up. “Have I told you how utterly striking you look tonight?” He asks when you spin back into him. He lowers his voice. “Because you look so ravishing I can’t hardly think straight.” Goosebumps rise on your skin, your heart doing a traitorous flip in your chest. The look in his eyes tells you he knows what effect he’s having on you so you force yourself to remember the basics. He betrayed you, used you like a fool. You held onto those two thoughts. 

“I should command you to leave here with me.” You growl and the edge of his cruel mouth tilts up. 

“You wouldn’t have to command me, dear, I’d go anywhere you told me to go.” He implores, his eyes soft on yours. You harden your thoughts. No being tricked. 

“Even back to prison?” You ask and he pulls you into him, his lips just by your ear. 

“I’d go to hell and back if you so wished.” You push him away instantly because your body wants him. You like the things he’s saying and it’s all too confusing and maddeding.

“Stop it.” You manage and he looks at you with cat-like eyes. 

“Stop what, my love?”

“Saying things like that.” You hiss and he just smiles at you. 

“You have the physical prowess to stop me yet you don’t. You let me say these things because deep,” He leans back into you, hand enveloping yours as the music picks up. “Deep down you want to hear them. As long as you like to hear them I will speak forevermore.” You hadn’t noticed how close he’d gotten until his lips barely brushed yours, almost like a kiss from the wind. You let out the breath caught in your throat. If you moved even a centimeter your lips would fully meet his. You're not sure how long you two were like this, the space between you practically non-existent, wanting him to be the one to give in. To put you out of your misery with a kiss. But alas, he pulls back, eyes like molten. “When I saw that man’s hands on you I saw red. I wanted to kill him.”

“Why didn’t you?” You ask, embarrassed that your voice betrayed you, showcasing just how much this moment was affecting you. Fyodor tilts his head.

“I didn’t think you’d like that…” He guessed, but it sounded more like a question. “Would you like me to kill him?” His eyes devoured your face, you swallowed to keep your lips from forming the word yes. You shook your head because you didn’t trust your voice. Fyodor just gave you back his soft smile, something he only saved for your eyes and your eyes only. “Hmm… yes, I guess that might ruin this party… After all, I planned this just for you.” He says and it’s like a bucket of cold water is thrown over you. He planned this ball. He invited everyone. Even Francis. He was probably working with Francis. He must’ve known Francis would rattle you enough to have you fall into his hands. And boy were you falling, shamelessly. You straightened, gaining back some sense of dignity. He was playing you again. Tricking you. You fell for it every goddamn time. Not this time. 

“I think I’d like to change my mind.” You breathed out, your voice strong. His eyes light up at your words. 

“On what, my love?” 

“I think I do want you to kill him.” You say and watch a small bit of shock settle on his sharp features. He barely sucks in his bottom lip, running his teeth over it. He stops dancing, gently pulling you by the hand towards the back of the party. You follow, glancing behind you to see Francis, his eyes locked on you. You weren’t getting out of here unscathed. Fyodor whisks you into an empty room, leaning against the door to shut it. 

“Oh dear…” He starts. You turn about the room before finding him. You put on your bravest face and cross the room back to him. He stays pressed against the door. You pull him in, you're directing this play now. You were tired of playing the pawn. He looks at you as though you’re about to whisper some riddle to him. As if he knows you so well that this would be some kind of joke. You lean your cheek against his and whisper into the shell of his ear.

“If you want me as badly as you claim, you’ll do it.” You say, finding his hand and tightening your hand on his. You feel him shutter against you. You wanted to call his bluff, to finally have something over him. But he just pulls back and you see resolve on his face, you see a man who was going to do exactly as you ask. 

“How would you like me to do it, my love?” He asks and your left to wonder if he really means it. You both stare at each other for a moment as you try and gauge things. “Would you like me to slit his throat?” He offers in the dim light, the music swells behind the door. You swallow because you feel the control slipping. “Shoot him in the head? Although where's the flair in that?” He laughs softly.

“I don’t care how you do it.” You say and he drags a finger across your cheek.

“I must say, I like this side of you.” He’s smiling that wicked smile and something in you pulls and snaps. Your hands travel up his arms and you watch his eyes dart to watch them. You feel out of control but in it all at once.

“You bring it out of me.” You murmur, leaning your body against his, you feel his heart racing in his chest under your palm and you pause. Was he nervous? No, he was playing you so there was no way this was affecting him.

Slowly you dragged your eyes up to his and the way he was looking at you made you pause again. You remember seeing that look on your dad’s face in the morning as your mom sat breakfast on the table, or when you’d all be out and your mom would watch your dad laughing with that same expression. That was the look of love. Fyodor had no right to pretend to care and you felt vindictive, like he was soiling some precious memory.

You grabbed his tie in your right hand twisting it around your hand, holding it tight. Something flashed in his eyes at your somewhat rough treatment, something dark and alluring. You pulled him down and shocked the both of you by rocking up on the balls of your feet to meet his lips. Rationality had flown right out the window and despite the many warnings and reasons, something had ached inside of you, a craving that had finally been understood. In this madness you decided if you were getting played, if this was all some stupid game or a trick to get you killed then you’d at least take Fyodor’s dignity with you. Fyodor’s slender hands slid around your waist pulling you completely against him, his mouth moving eagerly against yours. The kiss was hot and all consuming and completely fucking mad. Your hands found themselves tangling and messing up his perfect hair, tugging it and causing him to groan against your mouth. He might laugh later and say it meant nothing and you might agree, but you both would be filthy liars. Your stomach burned with yearning, a sick and crazy feeling amongst all the others.

His cruel mouth is surprisingly soft, he kisses you reverently at first, as though giving you time to move away and make better decisions but when you don’t it grows deeper and more desperate. He’s wanted it, you can tell by the way he devours you, the way he holds your hips with one arm and runs his fingers through your hair with the other, resting his hand just below your jaw. When you both pull back to catch your breaths, Fyodor’s thumb tilts your head up so he can look in your eyes. 

“Why do you really want him dead?” He asks through a staggering breath. Something in you twists triumphantly because he sounds put out, like you truly knocked him off balance. 

“For the fun of it.” You coo and he cocks his head at that, shaking his head in an admonishing way. 

“That isn’t like you, dear.” He says.

“Ah, cause you know me so well, Fyodor.” You hear him suck in a breath and before you can even begin to understand why his cheeks pinken in the dim light his hands slide up to either side of your face, his lips crashing against yours. You're stunned as he walks you back towards some kind of desk, the backs of your thighs hitting the hardwood. You realize distantly that you probably never had the control in the first place as his hands slide down to the backs of your thighs and lifts you up and sets you on the desk, his body parting your knees as he stands in between them. Your head is tilted up, hands grabbing at his suit jacket. He trails kisses away from your mouth to your neck and you shiver.

“You have no idea how badly I want to know you.” He mumbles against your neck, his hot breath tickling you. “Every single thought you have, I want to know what you're thinking…” His words are barely understandable as he attacks you with his lips. “I want to know who you are and where you are and-”

“You sound mad.” You say, flustered. He was talking crazy.

“You make me feel so utterly out of control.” He mewls, a bit more coherently. “I’ve never met someone like you.”

“You barely know me.” You quip and he pulls his lips away from your neck.

“I’ll take what I can get.” He speaks so softly and your heart swoons. With his hands still on your cheeks he leans in and for the first time, without desperation or shyness, kisses you kindly. You were done for. This went well past revenge. Him stealing the keys and your reaction to it felt utterly stupid now. Were you obsessed just for the sake of it, just for the sake of him?

“Don’t you.. Don’t you want more?” You asked and he looked at you. “If you were different… we could,” You stopped talking, unsure of where your thoughts were headed. 

“You mean if I were good? Maybe made a difference in the world?” He asks and you find yourself nodding your head. “I didn’t care about making a difference in the world,” He starts. “But since it’s your world I feel as though I could change.”

The door opens and you push Fyodor back forcefully. Francis glides into the room, his cape trailing after him. You're hot and flushed as you slide off the desk, you hadn’t noticed your dress had ridden up on your thighs as it fell back down. Francis looks between you both and laughs a cold laugh. 

“Is this how the agency deals with villains nowadays?” He asks and you straighten. Suddenly your earpiece crackles and you hear Dazai again, it takes everything in you not to jump at how loud it crackled.

“Y/n… Y/n? Clear your throat if you can hear me.” Dazai says and you do as you level Francis with a hard stare, unsure what to say. Was this the moment where they both killed you? 

“It’s impolite to interrupt, you should leave.” Fyodor’s voice is hard and suddenly you're reminded of who he is… How could you’ve forgotten?

“Y/n… Francis’s men have been dealt with, use your powers.” Dazai informs, it takes everything in you not to smile at that. When you first fought you weren’t able to use your voice very well, but things were much different now. 

“You're hogging all her attention, Demon, I think she owes me a dance still.” Francis slides his eyes back to you. “Isn’t that right, honey?” He asks, extending his hand. Before you can even part your lips to speak Fyodor, with surprising slyness, drives a knife directly through Francis’s palm, yanking it out as Francis cusses, stumbling back. When Fyodor raises his arm, poised to kill, you find your voice. 

“Stop.” Your power seeps through his thoughts, halting his actions. “Stand off to the side.” You direct and he does, but you didn’t use your powers, he just listened. Francis holds his bleeding hand, his powers glowing. “You haunted my nightmares for so long,” You start, and he looks at you unafraid because he doesn’t know just how good you were with your powers now. “But I've realized something. You're just a man. A weak one.” His powers flare. “Freeze.” Francis is put in a standstill, his blood dropping to the floor. He stares at you, fear mingling in his eyes, you smile a smile you could only learn from Fyodor. 

“I almost killed you once-- I can do it again.” Francis struggles but your compulsion is too strong. 

“You… what?” You hear Fyodor ask, your eyes slide to his and you're staggered by the hatred in his eyes and in that moment you realize that he didn’t know what happened between you and Francis. 

“Keep your mouth shut.” You direct and he looks at you with a sort of defalted expression.

“Y/n? Is everything under control? If so, we're heading in.” Dazai asks in your earpiece. 

“Uh huh.” You answer, turning back to Francis. “Stuff your sock in your mouth and tie yourself to the chair.” Francis straightens, his eyes pleading you to say stop as he reaches to pull off his shoe. You turn to Fyodor. There’s something in the air.

“My love,”

“Don’t.” You say but it hurts, something in you breaks at the expression on his face. “You slipped out of my reach once, it’s not happening again.” 

“My love, you wound me. Is that how you treat all your enemies?”

“Just you.” You say and watch his hurt expression melt into a soft smile.

“That gives me some solace.” He says, his eyes dragging your entire body, possibly cataloging it. You hear Francis mumbling something but the sock is muffling it. You ignore him because turning away from Fyodor right now seems like betraying yourself. 

“You had to know this would happen.” You attested as you hear some slight bit of panic break out into the ballroom, the music halting. The agency was here. Fyodor leans against the desk, one that he lifted you up on mere minutes ago. He lets his eyes fall closed. 

“Yes… I knew.” He starts, opening his eyes back up, those damned eyes. “I don’t mind. What’s love without a little grief?” He asks and you swallow something down. Why did this feel wrong? He was a villain and you caught him so why do you feel as though you're making the worst decision. Fyodor pushes off the desk and reaches for your hand, you let him take it as he kisses your knuckles. “I hope you’ll come back to me soon, my love.” Before you can even think to answer the door bursts open, Dazai and the other members stroll in. You step pointedly away from Fyodor. Dazai smiles warmly at you, ruffling your hair, after all you did just catch two for one. 

The teapot on the counter starts to whistle. It startles you out of your thoughts as you push away from the counter, grabbing your mug. You pull the kettle from the stove top and pour the hot water over the tea bags, a strong scent wafting upwards, calming your nerves. You rip open a few sugar packets, pouring it in, grabbing the cold spoon, mixing it around. You palm the mug, letting the warmth heat your cold hands. Morning was still slow to approach, the sun not awake yet. You’d dreamt of that masquerade from almost three years ago now and slipped out of bed, seeking a cup of warmth. The steam warmed your lips as you took light sips. You heard the bed creak in the distance, feet padding against the wooden flooring. You turn.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” You ask as Fyodor, hair mussed from sleep, emerges from the dark hallway. He rubs his eyes, shaking his head.

“No, Y/n, can’t sleep?” He asks his hands reaching for you. His chest presses against your back, his hands sliding around your waist as he holds you, head on your shoulder. You turn to press a kiss to his cheek.

“I dreamt of the last time we danced.” You say, feeling a grin grow on Fyodor’s lips. 

“Is that right?” He says. 

“Mhmm.”

“You mean where you kissed me then tossed me in prison?” He jested and you turned, pressing your face into his chest, his sweater soft and warm against your cheek.

“Don’t remind me of that.” You blushed, holding in a laugh. He wraps his arms around your back, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“It was very cute, you pretending as though you didn’t love me.”

“I didn’t know.” You groaned, muffled by his sweater. He felt him chuckle warmly, reaching and placing your mug on the counter. You pulled back slightly to look up at him as he reached back and turned on the radio, he turned it for a moment before landing on a song you’d never heard before, a soft guitar strumming through the speakers. ‘Looking out the door I see the rain fall upon the funeral mourners…’ a male voice sang. Fyodor looked down at you. 

“May I have this dance?” He asks and you breathe out a laugh, your cheeks flushing. 

“God... you're sappy.” You coo, but you accept his hand, letting him dance you around the kitchen.

You made a lot of sacrifices to keep him here with you, things had finally settled, nice and quiet. You moved out of the city into a cottage near the outskirts of your parents hometown. They only knew Fyodor for who you introduced him as and not the person you met him as. You missed your friends from the agency but being here you never felt better in the entirety of your life. You never really cared about making a difference in the world, it felt more like a necessity or an obligation, so leaving the agency for the last time only hurt because you were leaving your friends. But they were all capable. Fyodor and Dazai had figured out some sort of pack and you used your powers to erase Fyodor’s life from anyone who knew him. Which honestly was few and far between. Now he really only existed to you and your family. Which was good, you worried you’d have to protect him for the rest of your lives, living in fear that something would finally turn upside down. But going on almost over two years, life had finally been easy going. 

Fyodor dipped you as the song came to an end, slowly he guided you back up, you giggled softly. He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Ready to go back to bed, love?” You asked and you felt him melt. He liked when you used his nicknames, after all he called you that so many times it just slipped out sometimes. 

“Mhmm.” He hummed and picked you right off your feet, you yelped, laughing hard as he walked you through the dark hallway. He pressed you down against the mattress, caging your body with his. He presses a gentle kiss to your lips, smirking against them. “Love, you’re not tired right this second, right?” He whispers against your lips, your body heats at the implication. 

“I think I could stay up for a bit longer if needed.” You jest and he trails kisses down. 

“Much needed.” 

#bungo stray dogs #bsd fyodor #bsd x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #fyodor x reader

[azrielsmommy]

Dark Paradise (Part 3)

Pairing: Azriel x Fem! Reader

Summary: Never in the existence of Prythian had there been a rightful heir to two courts, much less a female, but there you are, in the flesh. With war upon the lands, and questionable family dynamics, a certain shadowsinger takes it upon himself to make your life just a little bit more interesting.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: violence

a/n: hey y'all so sorry for the month hiatus, uni has been CRAZY, anyways enjoy :)

To say Azriel was dumbfounded when he saw you, the women from his dreams, sitting on the throne instead of Helion, would be a severe understatement. He was absolutely enthralled by you, the way you spoke to Rhys with no care for his nobility, challenging him instead of falling head over heels. He lingered in the limited amount of shadows for the duration of your conversation, cursing Helion under his breath for covering the entirety of the chamber in a blinding sheen of sunlight. He watched you speak with such effortless grace, like you were made for the sole purpose of ruling.

His shadows had brought him a ring while he was observing you as he jumped between shaded corners, the ring gleamed in the sunlight as he rolled it between his fingers. He was going to toss it back to the corner where his shadows had unearthed it from, but the sound of shoes hitting marble drew his attention back to the task at hand.

You had sauntered down the stairs, the sunshine that pooled in through the windows lined behind you, had enveloped you in a blanket of light, silhouetting you in a ring of gold. Azriel had then and there decided that you were a goddess, one crafted by the most richest of golds.

He had enough, choosing no longer to hide in his shadows he winnowed to meet Rhys and you. You looked even more breathtaking up close, where he could see the groves and dips of your face, like a breath of fresh air. Azriel didn't know what came over him, it was like you had your hands around his very soul, forcing him to be drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

Rhys had noticed the starstruck shadowsinger, and teased him for it when they trailed behind y/n. "Your jaw is practically on the floor, pick it up before your tongue rolls out too." Rhys's voice had filled his mind, he shot him a scowl before choosing to ignore him, but he didn't stop there. "I wonder what names you'll choose for your children, Jaime, Carmilla, Jude, personally I love Dorian" he spoke, the shit-eating grin evident in Rhys's voice. Azriel slapped Rhys's chest so hard that he let out a pained grunt, smile still etched onto his lips. Rhys threw his a look saying 'you know I'm right.' Azriel tried ignoring the insinuation, but he couldn't deny that your outfit left little to his imagination.

He immediately blocked out the several scandalous thoughts that had spinned up in his mind before he would've been forced to excuse himself.

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

The Night Court was beautiful, even more so at night. The lights that decorated the city below shone brightly, paired along with the distant playing of music. The river that ran through the city twinkled as the stars up above bounced off of the ripples, it was gorgeous. Placing your hands on the railing that held you back from falling over the edge, you drank in the scenery before you. It was peaceful and comforting for a moment, before a harsh gust of wind swept over you, sending plums of snowfall over you. A shiver ran through your body, piercing even through Azriel's jacket that you had snuggly wrapped around yourself.

"Come on, you'll freeze out here." Azriel's gruff voice echoing over the wind. One of your bags was around his shoulder, while you held the other one loosely in a hand, outstretching his free hand towards you he gestured you towards him. You frowned as you took in your surroundings fully, you were in an empty clearing, no house in sight. "Where's the house?" You asked, as you walked towards him absentmindedly, goosebumps rising on your exposed legs. "We're almost there." He slightly smirked before pressing a rough hand under your knees and behind your back, collecting you abruptly into his arms.

Letting out a shocked yelp you instinctively gripped onto the closest solid surface, which so happened to be his shoulders. "Wha-." Before you could even begin demanding to be let go, he shook his wings, freeing them from their tightened position, and shot into the sky. Throwing your arms around his neck you pressed closer into him, so hard you thought you might melt into his chest. A low chuckle came out him, his chest rumbling at your startled reaction. Loosening your grip on him you looked back at him with a frown, "You could've warned me you know." You yell over the howling wind as you soared through the sky. "You're right I could've," you watched as he tore his eyes away from whatever he was focusing on, and looked into your own, "but where's the fun in that?" He spoke lowly, chest rumbling with each word.

Suddenly becoming hyper-aware of how close your faces were, you pulled back, instead choosing to turn your head to whatever he was looking at earlier. A large, almost castle-like mansion came into view, presumably the House of Wind. The sound of Azriel's wings beating heavily as you approached the wide balcony, built awfully similarly to a runway. Safely he landed, gently letting you down onto your own feet, still shook from the sudden flight you stumbled a few feet as you gained balance. Azriel offered a hand to you, but you slapped it away, "All of you Illyrians are absolutely mad, I swear" you mumbled under your breath. Throwing his hands up in mock offense, the both of you walked into the awaiting house.

You nearly moaned at the warmth that engulfed you as you stepped through the doors, melting away the coldness that had seeped into your bones. A squeal sounded through the lounge room before nimble arms tackled you, sending you crashing into the black leather couch. Blonde wavey locks, and a bright red-lipped smile filled your view, as you laid, sprawled, on the couch.

"By the cauldron, I haven't seen you in so long! How've you been? What've been up to? Oh my gosh, any new boys on the roster?" Mor berated you with questions as she laid on top of you, that beautiful smile of hers never leaving her face for a second. You giggled as she shook your shoulders rapidly, trying to shake the answers out of you.

"Mor stop it, you're going to give me a headache." You laughed as you playfully fought with her, trying to nudge her off of you. "You guys know each other?" Mor's and your head turned to look at Azriel as he stood there, watching the both of you with furrowed brows, your bags in tow.

"Of course we know each other, who do you think keeps me sane during all of those horrid meetings." She rolled her eyes at the mention of meetings. You had heard of Mor through your brother, Eris, when he was betrothed to her. Becoming friends with her wasn't exactly the smoothest of transitions, not after what Eris did to her. You had first properly met her in Vallahan during one of your diplomatic meetings for the Day Court, but once she found out who you were, and who you were related to, she avoided you.

Eventually, meeting after meeting in different continents, and different courts, you dragged her to a private room and made sure you drove the point that you had no part in her marriage arrangement with Eris. Explaining how you had zero connections with the Autumn Court, and that you refuse to support their cruel activities. After that, you grew close, but no matter how many secrets and deep truths you whispered to one another, she never told you what really happened that dreadful night when she ran into Eris. At first it hurt, knowing she didn't trust you enough with her deepest secrets, but you learned to respect it, knowing that when she was ready she would tell you.

"Oops sorry." She sheepishly clambered off of you, noticing your pained face, body growing numb from the weight of her body completely on top of yours. Helping you stand up she lead you to your room, Azriel in tow, carrying your bags with ease.

Reaching your bedroom door, Mor kicked it open, showing you around your massive suite, touring you around each additional room inside. Azriel dropped your bags onto the floor and bid you goodbye, you thanked him, watching as his broad frame walked out of your room.

"So, anybody special in your life?" Mor wiggled her eyebrows from her spot on your bed, her head propped up on her elbows as she laid on her stomach, kicking her feet in anticipation. You groaned as you flopped onto your back beside her. "No, I haven't had time for that, you know that." You dramatically threw your hands into the air.

"Yeah yeah, you got your royal duties to take care of or whatever, blah blah blah." Mor mocked you, memorizing your usual approach to this topic. "It's true! I'm not as lucky as you, catching the eye of every male. And female." You smirked at her. She shoved you in response, before resuming her questioning.

"How was your trip up here?" She picked at her perfectly manicured nails, "That crazy Illyrian practically threw me into the air, I thought he was going to drop me." You waved your hands around.

"Azriel would never drop a gorgeous girl like you," you turned your head towards her, a smile on your face from her compliment, "besides if he did, he would've been scrapping a flattened y/n shaped puddle off of the ground by now. Helion would have his head for that." Your smile immediately dropped at the idea of you being peeled from a random sidewalk in the city, you're sure that would've traumatized at least a couple Velaris civilians.

"Well since you're not going to tell me ANYTHING, about boys and what not, I have a welcoming gift for you." Mor abruptly jumped off of the bed and scurred off into your closet, you swore you could hear her giggling and mumbling to herself as she rummaged through clothes. Just as you were about to ask her what she was manically searching for like a rabid animal, she sauntered out of the room, clothes in hand.

"Well what do you think?" You sat up to get a clearer view of the garments she beheld. In one hand she had an intricate black dress, it wasn't fully midnight black, no, it had gold streaks pouring down the bodice, in the shape of a corset of sorts. There weren't any straps, showing of the shoulders, the deep v-neck that reached nearly what would be your bellybutton, showed off cleavage, and extenuated the neck. The gentle swish of the draping skirt was gorgeous, ever so often catching glimmers of gold, as it shimmered in the light.

"Oh that's sexy." Words tumbled out of your mouth as you took in the elegantly crafted dress before you. "I had it personally made for you, so of course it had to be sexy." She set the dress aside, and quickly replaced her hand with another piece of clothing. This time it wasn't a dress, it was a maroon trench coat, long enough where it would reach halfway down your calves. Several golden button adorned the front of the coat, pairing nicely with the barely visible gold seeming that lined the cuffs.

"These are beautiful Mor, but I can't accept it." You sheepishly look at her, a wave of guilt washing over you at the realization that you hadn't gotten her anything in return. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at you, her kohl lined eyes entrancing you, making it difficult to break eye contact.

"I mean, I just didn't get you anything in return, and that's not what good friends do, if I had been given an earlier notice I would've certainly gotten you some grand shoes, or jewelry..." You laugh nervously under her stare as you twist your rings in aimless circles.

A giggle bursts from Mor, you stare at her shaking form, slightly confused, you nervously giggle along with her. A howling laugh rips from her throat as she points at you, your eyebrows furrow as you rush to a mirror, thinking that she's laughing at something on your face.

"Is there something on my face?" You palm at your face, as you search for what she's laughing at, maybe you had caught a stray leaf on your flight here.

"Yeah that stupid look," She wipes her eyes, catching any tears, grabbing your shoulders she pries you from the mirror to face her instead "Gods, Y/n you don't owe me anything in return, I wanted to give you this, as a present. Besides, I was going to give you this for Solstice anyways, but, you're here now. Consider this an early solstice, from me." She beams at you, you return a smile back.

"But, I wouldn't mind some fancy shoes here and there." Shoving her shoulder you mock roll your eyes as you move towards the vanity, needing to take a relaxing steaming bath. "Dinner's served in half an hour, if I don't see you by then, I'll drag you by your hair." You throw a vulgar gesture over your shoulder as you shut the door behind you.

You quickly got ready and arrived at the dinning room before Mor could even think of coming to 'escort' you. The dinner went smoothly, Rhys introduced you to the 'inner circle.' Cassian was the easiest to get along with, his overwhelmingly kindhearted personality nearly suffocating you, however, by how incredibly well-toned he was, it would be a mistake to assume he was always so friendly. Amren was the complete opposite of Cassian, extremely witty, quick with her words, and the way she looked at your jewelry with those silver, ancient eyes sent shivers down your spine. You swear up and down, that she even licked her lips when she thought you weren't paying attention.

As you continued your dinner, chatting about nonsense, you felt a pair of eyes on you, glancing across the table you landed on Azriel. He sat there, holding a glass of some sort of alcohol in his hand, maintaining eye contact he swirled his glass around, the liquid sloshing against the sides, before bringing it to his lips. You won't lie, in that moment, the way his tight-fitted black shirt had the top couple buttons undone, exposing his neck and chest ever so slightly, had you blushing and gripping onto your own champagne glass for dear life.

"I think I'm going to turn in for the night." You mock yawned, rubbing your eyes in faux tiredness, needing to leave the room before you could even begin to think of other things, more like think about him.

"It was a pleasure meeting you all." Bidding everybody a quick goodnight you slipped away, feeling a pair of eyes on the back of your head as you rounded the corner towards your room. A frigid coldness swept against your leg, but as you looked around for a possible open window, you were met with nothing but shadows. Cold, wispy darkness.

Looking back down the dimly lit hallways, the faint golden hues from the fae light illuminating your face, you met Azriels gaze. The rest of the table engaging in fervent conversation, but he stared at you. It felt as if time itself slowed down with the way he watched you. His eyes low, glossed over with the influence of alcohol, enhancing the copper flecks in them by tenfold. You tried to tear your eyes away from his burning gaze, but it was as if the universe itself held the two of you together, refusing to let up its iron grip.

Subtle pain spread down your hands, turning your palm upwards you finally managed to look at something else other than Azriel. Half-moon crescents were indented in your palms from where you dug your nails so deeply into them, causing ruby red blood to drip from the broken skin. Glancing back down the hall, expecting Azriel to be staring at you, but his eyes stared unyieldingly at your hands, something swirled in his eyes, something wild. Bringing your palm up to your mouth you sucked up the blood, making sure he watched as you licked up what remained. He propped his chin on a hand as he watched your ministrations, eagerly.

Your lip curled in a sly smile as you et your hand fall back to your side. Turning on your heel you pushed the door to your room open, the coolness of the door pressing against your burning back as you leaned against the door. Running a hand through your hair you undressed, getting ready for bed. Your mind playing what just happened in the hallway over and over again, without cease. As you laid in bed you kept remembering the way his eyes roved over you, and no matter how many times you denied it, you did enjoy it, a little too much.

The next morning you were abruptly awoken, not by the sunlight flooding in through the partially shut blinds, nor was it your palms, instead you felt a searing pain in ribcage. Kicking the sheets off of yourself haphazardly, you lifted your shirt just under your breast, exposing your stomach to the crisp morning air that filtered in through the room.

Nothing. No wound, at least not visibly. Gently you pressed down on your skin, pain bloomed. Maybe you had simply slept weird, or knocked your ribs against a corner last night in your rushing, but you couldn't recall anything of the sort.

Deciding to ignore the strange pain you got dressed, remembering Rhys mentioned last night something about a training room during dinner. Completing basic hygiene you threw on some training clothes and fashioned your hair into a simple braid. As you wandered the halls in circles for what felt like hours your ribcage increased in pain, of course bearable, but nonetheless annoying. As you ascended a long flight of stairs the pain persisted, almost getting more intense as you got closer to the top.

Finally you stepped into a large space, light flooding into the ring, reflecting off of the various weapons that lined the walls and racks. The wind swept over the expanse, refreshing as the sun beat down. In the middle two people sparred. standing in their glory Azriel and Cassian threw punches, swift and calculated. By the way they were huffing you were more than sure that they have been here before dawn. Noticing your presence the two of them slowed down, Cassian being the first to approach you, "You here to practice?" A large grin spread across his face, wiping his forehead free from sweat with the back of his hand. "No I'm here to sunbathe." You retort, twirling around to show off your 'bathing suit,' a deadpan expression gracing your features.

"I'm hurt Y/n, where was my invitation, you know I'd be more than happy to ditch this loser over here." He threw a thumb over his shoulder towards Azriel. "Yeah I'm sure you'd be more than happy to ditch the way I've been kicking your ass for the past hour." Azriel crossed his arms, extenuating his sweat sleeked biceps. "You know everybody hates liars Azriel." Cassian threw him a glare, Azriel rolled his eyes before walking over to grab a cub of water.

"Anyways, I need a sparring partner, you up for it?" You looked at Cassian awaiting. "Oh uh, my shoulder suddenly really hurts, I'm sure Azriel needs the extra practice." Cassian's eyebrows furrowed in obvious fake pain as he rolled his shoulder to 'work out a knot,' tucking strays pieces of hair that fell from his ponytail he gestured towards Azriel, who stood by the water station.

Gesturing towards the empty ring you watched as Azriel set down his glass and stalked his way to the open space. "Sure, don't worry Cassian I'm sure Rhys will kiss your boo boo better." Azriel teased Cassia, as you walked down the stairs towards the ring, you're more than sure that Cassian threw him a vulgar gesture by the way Azriel chuckled.

Rolling your neck you cracked your fingers, getting ready for some hand to hand combat. Azriel tossed you a knife, not sharp enough to cause serious damage, but dangerous enough. You couldn't help but notice the way the sunlight hit Azriel's bare chest just right as you worked out the last knot in your neck. His toned chest evident of the several years it took to perfect, the muscles chiseled, like he was sculpted from finest of marble. "You can always back out whenever, no shame in it." He spoke in a low voice as he took up a fighting stance rolling his own knife in is hand. "Same goes for you, I wouldn't want to embarrass you in front of Cassian." Following in suit, you threw up your hands, getting ready to deliver the ass whopping of the century.

A faint smile flickered on his face before he lunged, throwing a flurry of punches. Blocking and dodging his attacks you jumped back, creating space in between the two of you. He fought with an intensity you haven't seen in years, each move calculated and aggressive, holding no punches back. If it were an average person they would quickly be knocked out by now, but you were no average person.

Quickly recovering from the slight set back you sent back your own attacks, sparks flying from where your blades met, throwing a mix in between slashes and swift punches. From the corner of your eye you spotted a forming bruise on his left rib, the exact same place you woke up to this morning. Just managing to dodge a swift slash from Azriel in the nick of time you side step Azriel and drove the hilt of your knife into his rib.

A low whistle resonated throughout the room from the wall where Cassian stood post, watching your duel. Stumbling a few steps back Azriel grunted, your own side reflecting the same throbbing pain you imposed on him.

He didn't even let you catch your breath before unleashing punches upon you, the strength behind them causing you to scramble to deflect them. Throwing a right hook, he landed square on your jaw, nearly sending you across the floor, blood ran down your chin from the newly inflicted wound on your lip. Wiping away the blood from your chin you grinned at him, the metallic taste of blood covering your teeth in a pink sheen. "Shit, I didn't mean-" Sucking you teeth clean from the blood you didn't even let him finish his apology before you lunged for him. Catching him with his guard down you kicked his legs out from under him, his back hitting the floor with a harsh slam, quickly you clambered onto him, sitting on his lap, legs tightly pressed against the outside of his thighs to keep him from moving. You pressed the knife to his throat, not hard enough to break skin but enough to ensure his defeat.

"Yield," you huffed out as you drew your face close to his. The back of Azriel's head hit the floor, causing the curls that weren't plastered to his forehead to spread out around him in a way that made him look like a literal angel, his onyx hair giving him an ethereal glow.

His eyes stared into your own, as he took in deep breathes, chest heaving under you. "I yield." His voice gruff as he rested his hands on your hips, holding you tightly, his gaze unwavering, a slight smirk on his lips as he licked his lips. "This is my favourite positions after all," He whispered, "Sorry?" Taken aback by his suggestive comment you leaned back from his face. "This is one of the best positions to render your opponent immobile, I mean. What did you think I meant?" He slyly spoke, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"Atta girl Y/n, you just won me some money." Cassian's boisterous voice boomed throughout the room, snapping you out of your trance. Both you and Azriel turned your heads towards where Cassian stood, rubbing his hands in anticipation as he proudly gave Rhys a shit-eating grin. Begrudgingly, Rhys dug in his pocket for money, throwing it at Cassian's chest with a scowl.

"You guys bet on us?" You asked baffled, "Yup, and Azriel just lost me so much money," Rhys's tone clearly reflecting his disappointment at his major loss. "I promise you, I'm taking that out of your salary Az." Rhys sent Aziel a pointed glare, Azriel simply shrugged, clearly not caring, you're sure it wouldn't even leave a dent in his finances.

"Anyways enough of these stupid activities-", Rhys approached the two of you, "You only think it's stupid because you lost," Cassian responded in a sing-song voice, "Shut up." Rhys quickly retorted back. Running a hand quickly over his jacket, plucking at invisible dust, he stood over you and Azriel on the floor. "What mission?" Azriel asked, confusion across his face, clearly not having been debrief about this mission earlier. "Autumn Court." Rhys crossed his arms, as he watched for your reaction.

You looked back down at the sprawled out Azriel under you, clear disgust in your face at the idea of going to the Autumn Court so soon into your stay at the Night Court. Feeling the same way, Azriel rolled his eyes before closing his eyes, letting out a long breath out.

"Fuck." Was all that needed to be said.

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

tag list: @dr4g0ngirl @tothestarsandwhateverend namelesssav hnyclover

#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #fanfic #azriel x reader #rhys acotar #rhysand #cassian #cassian acotar #mor acotar

[like-dogs--shianni]

Unusual OC Associations: Variel Lavellan Edition

Tagged by no one, but I liked this too much to miss it! Tagging @isayashai , @ghoulsbeard , @antivantalon , and anyone else who feels like doing this. Answers under the cut :)

Seasoning: Saffron. The plant itself is easy to grow with a little care and yields a violet flower. The spice comes from the plant’s crimson stigmas and has a subtle earthy-sweet flavor. It takes time and dedication to gather saffron, as it does to get to know Variel in her guardedness and depth — proof that many good things take time. Saffron also represents love, healing, and mental strength.

Weather: A warm afternoon just after a heavy rainfall. Sunlight makes the wet streets glitter and the earth bloom with the scent of petrichor. The memory of a storm is fading away and would feel like little more like a dream, if not for the last rumbles of thunder in the distance. The air feels new, refreshed, and the day begs to go play in puddles.

Color: Plum, indigo, pale gold.

Sky: The hazy, diluted, dark blue of the night sky, still peppered with glittering stars, as it begins turning lighter and lighter into dawn.

Magic Power: Aura reading. The ability to sense the "energy" of another, including their emotions, health status, or moral alignment.

House Plants: Moth orchid. Often lonesome, but brings the symbology of beauty and joy to a room.

Weapon: Meteor hammer. A soft weapon that can take opponents by surprise, as it gathers inertia by swinging in various directions before striking. Long-range and dual-ended, it allows to perform defense and offense at the same time. Alternatively, a book thrown at someone’s head.

Subject: Translation. Variel is fascinated by the language and its trappings, the prospect of breaching gaps in understanding by bringing sources of meaning together. Knowledge is lovely by itself, but even better when used to foster connectedness.

Social Media: Wordpress. She has a dozen abandoned blogs from different periods of her life, full of poems, reflections, and unfinished stories.

Make Up Product: Mascara. Variel’s eyes are one feature she likes about herself and play a significant role in her communication style, earnest and moving. Doesn’t hurt to have a little extra oomph when she stares into your soul or resolves conflict with some strategic eyelash batting.

Candy: Fruit confections (aka gummies). A burst of flavor that is almost natural except enhanced for an unbridled sugar rush.

Fear: Becoming untethered. This includes losing the people she cares about, naturally, but also losing herself; to oppression, to expectations, to the confusion of existing. She is caught between wanting to be free and fearing that she will fly into the sun if allowed.

Ice Cube Shape: Ice chips. Delicate, simple, and yet great for staying hydrated + sensory stimulation to bring the mind back to reality.

Method of Long Distance Travel: Caravan. Sitting in the back of a supply cart, journaling anonymously, watching the scenery pass by.

Art Style: Expressionism. Based on subjective perspectives of the world, uses radical distortion and vibrant hues to evoke moods or ideas.

Mythological Creature: Feathered Serpent. In Mesoamerican mythologies, examples include Quetzalcoatl, which represented the duality of body and spirit, life, light, and knowledge.

Piece of Stationery: That one pen that writes with just the right texture to be soothing. Not too thin or scratchy, not so full of ink that it splotches.

3 Emojis: 🕊️🌩️📚

Celestial Body : Supermoon. A celestial body already known for its mysticism becomes even more striking when it is closest to us; but even then, it remains at an unbreachable distance. Associated with the enhancing and deepening of emotions.

#variel lavellan #Variel tag #unusual OC associations #OC games #the dove is not Quite the animal that represents but. it’s what comes closest #i wish there was like a raven or hummingbird #anyway the bird vibe is there & that’s what counts

[sweetkingdomstarlight-blog]

Hello there my lovely friends. Tomorrow marks my one year anniversary for writing, I legit never thought I’d make it this long and I’m shocked by the year that I’ve had with this all. I have literally met some of my best friends because of this hellsite so it is good for something haha.

I’m going to have a little week long celebration to mark the occasion. Please feel free to slide into my messages with anything you like or choose some of the questions/games below. I’m excited to talk to you all and have some fun. Huge thank you to @cockslut-padalecki who made me this banner super quickly because I'm a dumbass who forgot. Thanks to @river-soul and @stargazingfangirl18 for letting me steal some of their game ideas.

Games

Babe vs Babe - Send in a scenario with two characters and I will choose one!

Would you rather? - you can choose something completely random or something related to my stories.

Send me a scenario and I'll tell you what character I write for that this would fit, I might even write a short 100 word Drabble if it inspires me.

Top 3 - ask me my top 3 anything!

Cast my mutuals - the sillier the better

AOV - Any characters, I'll unleash the hoe.

Fics

Fic recs - Send me a character and I'll give you a fic rec, I'm going to try and find some fics with less notes on to give them boost because I know how it feels when you don't get many notes.

Author recs - Let me introduce you to someone! Please let me know if you have a specific character you love to read.

Send me a character and a kink - I'll write a small drabble, no incest, pee/poo play or underage. Please let me know if you want it to be dark.

I wish you'd write... is there a character and/or a kink that you want to see me write or a character that you wish got more love? I'll see if it sparks something

WIPS - Want to know what I'm working on? Maybe want a sneak peek? Ask me and I will deliver

and lastly

tell me something positive - anything at all, something that's happened to you, something that you're looking forward too, something that made you smile. Come and introduce yourself if we haven't spoken before, I'm very friendly and will likely smush you.

tagging some of mutuals in no particular order for a signal boost - @buckyownsmylife @buckys-plums @sweeterthanthis @dreamlessinparis @navybrat817 @whisperlullaby @sweetlyscared @tumblin-theworldaway @jamesbuchananbarnesslut @jobean12-blog @musingsinmoonlight @thicccsimp @ladyfallonavenger @wakingbeauty @sparkledfirecracker @multimusedreams @happygowriting @the-witty-pen-name @supremethunda @theimaginesyouneveraskedfor

#sleepover #join me and have some fun

[saiyanprincessswanie]

SaiyanPrincessSwanie - Reading List Week 64

(Header is by the talented @happygowriting​)

Welcome to week 64 - I’m so sorry this is late

As always these will be listed in no particular order. None of these stories are mine. I’m just signal boosting them. Author is listed next to title. My goal is to signal boost writers and spread positivity in the community.  💜💜  

Click HERE to see what I will or won’t read. This is very important.

Click HERE for past reading lists.

My Masterlist click HERE

Please make sure you are reading the warnings on every story. They range from dark to fluff. Do Not Read if you are under 18 years old. These stories are meant for adults only. You’re responsible for your own media consumption.

Page-break by @whimsicalrogers​

If you can, please reblog these lists so they can reach more people on Tumblr.

💜  Missy

Chrome & Leather - Chapter 8 - (Steve x Reader) - @saiyanprincessswanie​ 

Fire & Rain (3) - (Dean x Reader) - @wonder-cole​

Broken Down - (Bucky x Reader) -  @lovelyavengers​

Moonlight Sonata - (Stucky x Reader) - @jobean12-blog​

Let me build your throne - (Loki x Reader) - @loving-bucky-is-easier​

Like a rolling bolt of thunder - (Brock x Reader) - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​

Acquiesce - (Lee x Reader) - @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​​

Close enemies - (Charles x Reader, Lee x Reader) - @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​​

Darktober Day 6 - (Loki x Reader) - @animnerd​​

Demons & Angels - (Curtis x Reader) - @wayward-blonde​​

Kinktober Day 9 - (Steve x Reader) - @nellblazer​​

The Rules - (Ransom x Reader) - @river-soul​​

Four Play - (Dean x Reader) - @cockslut-padalecki​​

Lazy Day - (Dean x Reader) - @wonder-cole​​

Sitting Pretty - (Bucky x Reader) - @jobean12-blog​​

Escape your demons - (Nat x Reader) - @nsfwsebbie​​

All Heaven In A Rage - Chp 29 - (Steve x Reader) - @jtargaryen18​​

Riding On - Chp 16 Part 2 - (Frank x OFC) - @wiypt-writes​​

Rock n’ Roll People in a Disco World - Chp 10 Part 1 (Paul Diskant x Reader) - @wiypt-writes​

A Full House - (Bucky x Reader x Sam) - @nano--raptor​

Spooktacular Halloween - (10) - (Stucky x Reader) - @writerwrites​

Sweetest Dreams - (Jensen x Reader) @wonder-cole​

Plum Bucky - (Bucky x Reader) - @jobean12-blog​

Where it Stays (4) - (Steve x Reader) - @tuiccim​

Movie Night - (Steve x Reader) - @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters​

Love Always, Wanda - (Wanda x Reader) - @lovelyavengers​

Kinktober Day 10 - (Curtis x Reader) - @nellblazer​

That’s my girl - (Steve x Reader) - @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​

Mafia Stucky One-shot - @angrythingstarlight​

Into your arms - (Bucky x Reader) - @sinner-as-saint

To love is to burn - (Bucky x Reader) - @bonky-n-steeb​

Three’s a Crowd - (2) - @river-soul​

A little birdie told me - Part 15 - (Steve x Reader) - @toomanyrobins2​

Too Loose and You’ll Lose It  - Chp 12 - (Jake x OFC) - @wiypt-writes​ @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Remember - Part 8 - (Loki x Reader, Steve x Reader) - @bonky-n-steeb​

Fire & Rain (4) - @wonder-cole​

Burning Love - (Steve x Reader) - @sunshinebuckybarnes​

Loves Embrace - (Steve x Bucky) - @americasass81​

#saiyanprincessswanie #weekly reading list #recommended reading #missy reads #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #dean winchester x reader #loki x female reader #brock rumlow x reader #lee bodecker x reader #curtis everett x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #frank adler x reader #paul diskant x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #jake jensen x reader

[sockablock]

I’ve had a small idea for a little while now, so I’m testing the waters with a first chapter! It’s a bit long, so excuse me there, but hopefully y’all enjoy reading! :3

—

It began with a letter that arrived one morning as Essek sat alone in the kitchen.

The courier himself had seemed just as surprised to be delivering a message to the reclusive Shadowhand, but a cursory glance at the carefully-folded envelope and a less-cursory casting of Detect Magic had signaled no foul play. So Essek took the letter, settled back beside the dining table, and floated over a glass of chilled juice for the reading.

His eyes flicked over the return address, and though it did seem familiar, it did not immediately spark recognition. His first real impression of the message was simply that of crisp, neatly-printed handwriting and the faintest whiff of…hmm. Lavender.

The letter began with a standard greeting.

To Shadowhand Essek Thelyss—

I hope you have been keeping well since we spoke. It has been some time, and I admit it is strange for me also as I realize this is likely the first letter I have sent you since our meeting.

He sipped the juice.

You are a busy man, and I would not intrude on your time if my request is unwelcome or unfeasible. But you see, in the time since we have ended the war and sealed away the Chained Oblivion—

Essek nearly spat out his drink.

He managed, in the proceeding moments, to weakly swallow, and shakily set his glass back onto the table. He cleared his throat once or twice. He gently coughed.

He picked up the envelope he had discarded earlier and quickly, the pieces fit together.

The Firmaments. Eastern district. The neighborhood where once, Den Thelyss had provided a house for a ragtag group of outsiders…

He snatched the letter back into the air.

—and semi-accidentally, though certainly also purposefully toppled the Cerberus Assembly.

Essek had to pause and re-read that sentence. It still didn’t sink in until nearly a minute later. He rubbed his temples, and resumed.

As such, it has befallen on I, and by extension the rest of the Mighty Nein to rebuild some of the arcane infrastructure of the Empire. To be more specific, in our meeting with King Dwendal’s court, a lord accused us of trying to cripple the nation by eliminating a powerful institution of magic and Beauregard volunteered that I would be the best candidate to replace it. One comment led to another, and perhaps it was our past efforts in politicking, or our recent defeat of the Maw of Eternal Darkness—

Essek wondered if he had any alcohol.

—but the court ultimately, shockingly, decided that I should be put in charge of creating and overseeing a new arcane academy for the Dwendalian Empire. And so, at the time in which I am writing you this letter, I have been appointed the Headmaster of a new Soltryce Academy, though I certainly will not be keeping that name.

It is with this in mind that I am writing to you now, my friend. For you see, despite the apparent confidence of my friends and my “superiors,” I do not believe I am capable of running a school on my own. Certainly not implementing the necessary infrastructure to have a school of any repute by the next century as well. And though I have my friends, and some resources, and an idea of where to start, the destruction of the Assembly and the Cobalt Soul’s anti-corruption efforts have left our nation in a sorry state regarding reputable mages. So, my dear friend, as we have worked together in the past, I have quite a large favor to ask.

And as Essek’s eyes continued scanning further down the page, the sinking sensation gripping his stomach was not helped by the decanter of plum wine that floated over to his table.

—

Meanwhile, beneath a shining sun on what seemed like the opposite side of the world, Caleb Widogast, the appointed head of a yet-to-be-named-academy was being berated by one of his closest friends.

Beau at least had possessed the decency to shut the tent flap so the army of woodworkers outside would not hear this.

“—suspicious! Caleb, there’s no way it’ll work. And not just because he’s the Shadowhand of the Bright Queen, also because…because…well…everything!”

“I think if he carried an umbrella during the day—”

“Not what I’m talking about,” Beau said. “I’m talking about literally every other problem that asking Essek to teach will cause, good gods.”

Caleb leaned back on the small wooden crate that was currently serving as his favorite chair. The slightly-larger crate he was using for a desk said “Honigblumen Brewery” on it.

“Well, nobody will be teaching for quite some time yet,” he said, “so we will have plenty of chances to work out the kinks.”

Beau shook her head at him, then took a seat. “I’m so far down disbelief city that I’m not even going to talk about the fact that you just said kinks.”

“I meant—”

She waved a dismissive hand. “I know what you meant, and here’s what I mean. Caleb, as much as I know you like Essek, there’s no way any of this is gonna work. First of all, he’s already got a job as the Shadowhand, and I doubt he’d wanna give up a cushy position like that to come work for a nothing-at-all school in the middle of the Empire.”

“Ja, I know, I know, I’ve thought about that—”

“And did you think about the part where he’s the fucking Shadowhand and you’ve asked him to come to the middle of the Dwendalian Empire to teach a goddamn gen-ed course?!”

Caleb was quiet for a moment. And then he said:

“Actually, I was thinking of asking him to take the more advanced levels—”

Beau reached across the ale crate to flick Caleb in the head. “And you don’t see a problem with that, at all? Caleb, for the gods’ sake, use your stupidly big head to consider the fuckin’ political ramifications of that. If the Empire catches wind of this, they’re gonna hate it, war over or not over. And I don’t even mean that in a ‘there’s gonna be shitty racism’ way, which is something else you’ll probably have to deal with later, I meant that in a ‘think about his last job description way.” And speaking of that, I mean, on Essek’s side, really, are you really expecting him to really settle down and help teach after he’s spent a lifetime—a human lifetime—being a military spymaster? Not to mention the fact that he’s a power-hungry war criminal who betrayed his own nation to get ‘arcane secrets’ or whatever. Seriously, dude, there’s no scenario where this goes well for you or him.”

At Caleb’s expression, Beau’s tone eased just slightly and she added, as a peace offering, “Really, dude.”

Caleb sighed. He scratched at his head.

“I…look. I…I think you’re right, but…there are also good possibilities of having him around. He is knowledgeable, he is skilled, I know his magic firsthand, and he has always been trustworthy—”

“Ha!”

“—for us, Beauregard. I think he is one of our best potential candidates, especially as he is only one of three so far. Just…trust me on this one, alright?”

She studied his face intently. The sheerness of the tent walls let in quite a bit of light, giving both of their eyes a faint, sunny sparkle.

With these two, though, it was more of a manic glint.

“What’s this really about?”

“Was?”

Beau leaned closer. “I said, what’s this really about? I don’t think that’s your only motivation. And if I’m gonna trust you, you’ve gotta be straight with me. I know you’re not an idiot, so I believe you when you say you’ve thought about the risks. What’s made them all worth it? What do you really think, and don’t give me that crap about him being a good teacher. You’ve got good teachers. Two advanced ones anyway, and you said yourself yesterday that the rest can be trained. So what’s up? What’s your real game here?”

Caleb floundered only slightly under the intensity of her stare.

“How long have we known each other now? No, fuck that, I pulled you out of the mouth of a forsaken god. Tell me, dickwad. Come on, it’s me.”

And after a moment, Caleb pinched his nose.

“It’s…it’s… it’s partially selfish. And…”

This, Beau understood. She nodded. “And…?”

“And…well, I…was thinking last night, after dinner, about who I want on this project. Aside from you all. And I realized…thinking about everything we have been through, that…for the most part, especially after our…revelations at sea, Essek is one of the people I want around. Largely because, well…”

He gave another sigh.

“Because I want to see what has become of our Xhorhastian friend. More importantly, I want to see if he has…or…could, ah, change.”

“Change,” she said flatly.

“Ja. I…I think I need to seem him change.”

“Because?”

“Because...” Caleb exhaled. “After everything we have been through, what we have seen, after fighting against the Assembly and watching so many mages crumble, I find myself searching for…assurance. Assurance that not every wizard is bad. Assurance that we even deserve this second change. And…if at all possible, what I most would like is to know that anyone, even the most driven and ambitious, the most ruthless, cutthroat, power—as you said, power-hungry—wizard can be shown that there is another way. That…ultimately, all of us can be redeemed.”

He looked back up, and raised an eyebrow. “I want to make this school a force for change. And I want to make it a place where we change, too. I said once before, and I still believe it is so, that Essek and I have a lot of things in common. It is time to see how much we can be changed.”

Beau did not answer for a drawn-out moment, but neither did she look away.

“I think you’re pretty changed, Caleb. That should be a point in your corner already.”

“That’s true,” and this time his smile was a little brighter, “but that is largely due to our group. I think Essek has gotten some of the Mighty Nein treatment, but probably not enough.”

“So…so is he your pet project now, or something?”

“Ach, no, nothing so…no. It is more of a…the thing is, Beauregard, I do consider him a friend. And we got so caught up with the Angel in Irons cult and then the Assembly that, well…it is just, before all that happened, I did like spending time with him.”

“Me too,” she waved a hand, “he had good wine, and when we got him in the hot-tub, he wasn’t that bad. Still don’t know if he’s worth all this. He’s a war criminal—yeah, I know what you and Jester think, but that’s what I think, and Veth agrees. Seriously, you never know, he could be too far gone, and I don’t want him near this school and project if it’ll put you in danger or risk anything.”

“We are no strangers to danger,” Caleb murmured. “And I…would like to think that with enough effort, nobody could be so far gone.”

Beau sighed. She leaned across the crate again, but this time it was to put an arm on Caleb’s shoulder.

“You’re really fucking stubborn, you know that?”

“Ja, so I have been told.”

“Essek has betrayed people before. His people, before.”

“Yes, but…” Caleb shrugged. “He also will probably be betraying his own nation to join this school.”

“Oh, good,” Beau grunted. “So at least he’s had some practice.”

—

By the time Essek had managed to re-arrange his thoughts into something even mildly resembling order, the letter in his hands was so thoroughly crumpled that all its corners were bent.

He attempted to smooth them back out. When this failed to be satisfactory, he put it back on the kitchen table.

A…teaching position at Caleb’s school. Well not Caleb’s school, but a new Empire Academy that Caleb would oversee. And they needed instructors, as well as mages to help build it, and he thought Essek would be a good fit…

Idly, he wondered if Caleb wanted a teleportation network, as many of the finest institutions had. He wondered if this was something he would have to organize.

Apparently, the Mighty Nein had defeated the Chained Oblivion in some obscure corner of the world, without most of civilization even noticing. But Essek remembered the readings that morning, remembered the clamor and panic in the Cathedral, remembered the theurgists in the Conservatory practically tearing themselves apart to understand what was happening. If their claims were true, and this wasn’t an elaborate prank on the Mighty Nein’s end, a large part of Essek vowed he would draw chalk circles for them forever, if they asked.

But a small part of Essek had the needling thought: why didn’t they tell me it was happening? I could have helped them.

He glanced back at the note.

Well, they were asking for help now, weren’t they? And if nothing else had changed, it was the simple fact that Essek would still do his best to help his friends.

There were just some minor complications to be dealt with.

Namely, what to tell the Bright Queen. And his—

He made a face.

—and his mother.

—

A few days later, Essek stood in front of his bathroom mirror.

It was a beautiful piece, made from polished volcanic glass and set into an ornately-twisted frame of dark metal. It was the perfect gift for someone who regularly floated around Rosohna being called the Shadowhand, but as far as mirrors actually went it left some details lacking.

Still, it served Essek well enough, and he’d never really gotten around to replacing it.

He stared into his dim reflection and slid a hand over his chin.

—

Elsewhere, another wizard stared too, but not into any reflective surface.

Veth’s eyes hadn’t refracted light like that for nearly two years, now. But Caleb could still feel the weight of her gaze boring into his skull as she searched for answers.

Eventually, she sat back.

“Alright. How?”

“Yes, I know it’s—was?”

“How?” she repeated, and steepled her fingers. “How are we gonna do it? He’ll need a disguise, right?”

There was a long pause as Caleb processed this. He managed, “You are…not mad?”

“Well, it’s not like I’m happy, but I trust you, Caleb. You have a reason?”

“Er…yes. I quite do.”

“So…alright, then.” There was a pause, then she added, “I am kind of annoyed you already sent the letter without asking, though.”

“Sorry.”

“I feel like I should ground you.”

“That, er…you can, if that makes you feel better.”

Veth genuinely seemed to consider this. Behind them, through the thin tent-walls of the office, they could hear a delighted child running circles around adults. They were, respectively, Luc Brenatto, having the time of his life shooting the Mighty Nein with wooden darts.

They were rounded off, of course. Yeza had seen to that with great care.

“No,” Veth sighed eventually. “No, that probably sets a bad example. I don’t think a professor can ground the Headmaster.”

“Head Professor, do not forget. I trust you the most out of everyone on this project. Not just because you are my friend, but you are qualified. And you really understand our mission.”

His tone of voice suggested that this was a conversation they had had many times. The way Veth’s face colored just slightly suggested she was still having trouble with the ‘qualified’ part.

Nevertheless, years of trained suspicion broke through the treacle-sweet flattery.

“But you didn’t trust me enough to tell me you were planning to ask Essek to come earlier,” she pointed out. “What did you think I was going to do?”

Caleb winced. “No, Veth, I…scheisse. That was…I was being impulsive that night. I…the idea occurred to me and I did not even hesitate to contact him. I…in retrospect, I should have.”

At least, to his relief, Veth nodded in response. “I get that,” she shrugged. “And like I said before, I am on board. You’re lucky I like you so much, Caleb. I don’t…care for Essek, but if this is what you want, I’ll…deal with having him around.”

“I am sorry again,” he said. “And, er…if it helps, you will also be his boss.”

Veth hadn’t been a goblin for years, but her eyes gleamed.

“Please be nice to him,” Caleb added.

“Nice?” Veth scoffed. “He’s not exactly nice.”

“He was nice to us—”

“Not Yeza.”

At the tortured grimace that passed across Caleb’s face, Veth sighed.

“Look, don’t worry, seriously. I was mostly kidding—I’m kidding! I just…you know that I have complicated feelings about Essek. In a…in a sort of way, I understand what he did. And I know where he’s coming from, I do. Lots of us are...well, we were pretty sketchy too. He really reminds me of the things we’ve done. But…he hasn’t shown nearly as much remorse as I’d like. And some of the things he’s done are—” She risked a glance up into Caleb’s impassive expression, “—I don’t like that he still doesn’t seem to care. But…he is a wizard, and I guess he’s our friend. So…if you can keep him from doing anything, I don’t know, very sketchy, then I’m on board. I trust you.”

Caleb’s expression went soft. He nodded.

“Thank you, Veth. I appreciate your cooperation in this matter.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“And I do hope that…well, I hope we can stop him from ‘sketchy’ things. In fact, ah…a small part of me is hoping that eventually, he will want to stop doing sketchy things all by himself.”

“Really?” Veth sounded more than skeptical. “How?”

Caleb shrugged. “The same way you and I did, no?”

—

Now Essek stood before the iron wrought gates that led into the expansive manor grounds of his family home. He could see, high above and a bit back, the five towers that made up the domain of the Umavi of Den Thelyss, long empty after all her children had moved on.

And, Essek recalled with a grimace, after his father had most probably, definitely, died.

It was a lonely castle. A feeling he could commiserate with, even in his smaller manor.

He straightened his collar. He knocked twice.

—

“By getting rich as adventurers.”

“By getting friends.”

—

“It is a surprise to see you here,” said Umavi Deirta Thelyss, Denmother of Den Thelyss and also Essek’s actual mother. “You rarely visit outside formal events and holidays.”

She did not add that Essek had totally missed the last two get-togethers, and thus must have been in a charitable mood. The rare—albeit leftover—tea blend that Essek had brought might have tipped the scale.

“I know, Mother.”

“I worry about you, of course.”

“I know, Mother.”

“And I’m certainly proud of what you’ve accomplished thus far.” At this, she took a sip of the Blooming Grove’s best. “I trust you are finding ways to keep yourself busy even during these times of peace?”

“Of course, Mother. Er…actually, it is partially that subject which I wish to address with you.”

His mother lowered her cup.

“Ah. So this is not purely a social call.”

“Er…no.”

She dabbed at the corner of her mouth, but Essek could have sworn she’d just smiled. Or, he backpedaled, at least tactfully smirked.

“Is this about access to the Beacons again, dear? As I always say, I can try to put in a word, but we have never been the den as involved in religious matters.” She paused, and tilted her head at him. “Is this about Consecution?”

“Er…no.”

“Oh. Well, then? Speak your mind.”

Under the table, Essek twisted at the hem of his sleeve.

“I, ah…well, that is…I’ve received a letter, Mother. An offer of…professorship. From…an Academy.”

This seemed to genuinely surprise the Umavi.

“Professorship? But…why?”

“Someone out there believes in my arcane prowess, apparently.” With the first sentence out of the way, Essek managed to sip his tea. Only a true observer would have noticed it falter slightly in its trajectory.

“Well,” said his Mother, trying to meet his gaze, “what a strange request to make of one already so gainfully employed. As the Bright Queen’s master of…let us call them the more obscure matters of state.”

When Essek did not match her eyes, she continued, “What sort of Academy is this, dear? Surely none in the Marble Tomes would write you in this way, and I find difficulty imagining you taking up permanent residence in Asarius. Which must mean…”

Essek sighed. His mother certainly was a true observer.

“Yes, Mother. It is outside the Dynasty.”

“Worse than that, I am sure.”

“Er…”

There was a sweeping of long robes as his mother leaned. She wasn’t wearing her headdress, but could loom without height, her sheer imposing presence doing the work just fine.

“Essek?”

He sighed again.

“Inside the Empire, Mother.” And because they had gotten this far, and he didn’t have much else to lose, he added, “Run by Widogast. Caleb Widogast, if you remember him, as well as a number of his friends, I gather. It is the…replacement institution currently being built to fill the void—”

“That the Assembly left, yes, I assumed.” She settled back, and a shifting of fabric indicated that she had crossed her arms. “And our dearly departed hero Widogast wants you to teach there?”

“And to assist him in establishing some of its curriculum and facilities, yes.” He tactfully ignored the ‘dearly departed’ bit.

“That would certainly be an odd career move for you, Essek. And surely, foreigner or no, he has spent enough time in our country to be aware of the implications of what he is asking.”

“Surely, Mother.”

“And as we all know, he has had training in Dunamancy these last years. I do hope his teacher had impressed upon him how vitally important it is to keep such training and knowledge a secret.”

For the first time since reading the letter, Essek paused.

In all his…well, excitement was not a word ever ascribed to the Shadowhand, but certainly in his anticipation to consider his offer, it had never actually crossed his mind that he might be asked to teach Dunamancy.

A small but very significant part of him riled.

Across the table, his mother drank some more tea. She was watching her son, who to his credit, had mastered the art of freezing his micro-expressions so swiftly that they could not be read. But without his mantle on, sitting in his mother’s tearoom, his hands were fidgeting up a storm across the table.

He probably hadn’t even noticed. She took another sip.

In a matter of seconds, Essek was back. He shook his head, and reached for a dry cookie.

“I think he is aware of the gravity of the situation. And I trust him to have already, ah…weighed the pros and cons.”

“And have you?” asked Deirta Thelyss, knowing the answer.

Essek bit down.

“I believe I have.”

—

“So…that’s it? We just wait for an answer, now?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think he’ll say yes?”

“Well, I certainly hope so.”

“How’s he supposed to tell you?” This one was Jester, leaning across a stack of milk crates. “He doesn’t have Sending, I’m pretty sure.”

There was a pause in the air as the Mighty Nein watched Caleb consider, and realize this.

“Oh,” he said eventually. “I, er…I had assumed he did.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Beau said. “How did you think he was going to answer back? You didn’t think Xhorhas had a postal service to Felderwin, did you?”

“I, ah, admit that—”

“Maybe you should check our mailbox in Rosohna,” said Fjord kindly. “He probably just sent it to the Xhorhouse, or something.”

Caleb faltered, and scratched the back of his head. “…scheisse. You don’t think he has been waiting all this time to answer already, has he? I had not even considered—”

“I would not worry about that.”

All of them turned as a voice outside the door drifted in through the thin walls of the tent.

Then the voice added:

“How do I…oh, there is a latch—”

But he did not manage to finish the assessment before Jester ran over, threw the flap open, and tackled Essek bodily in a hug.

—

“In that case, there is only one last thing to say.” The Umavi of Den Thelyss sat back in her seat. A thin trail of steam curled up from her cup.

“I forbid you from going.”

“Thank—you what?”

She steepled her fingers. “I say ‘no,’ Essek. I will not let you chase this Empire wizard across the continent to teach at his school.”

“I…but…that is not…Mother, why?”

The swiftness of his outburst answered the question for both of them.

She studied his gaze.

“Essek, you have a purpose here. You have a bright future, and a reputation, and glowing prospects and I will not let you squander that to go off spilling our nation’s secrets.”

Essek managed to bite his tongue just in time. His mother would not have liked his instinctual answer.

Instead, he choked out the words, “I’ll quit, then. I’ll defect. I want to do this. More than I have ever wanted anything else in my life.”

Later, he would wonder why he said that. Even later, later, he would wonder if that were true.

The oldest and nearly-youngest souls of Den Thelyss stared at each other across the tea table. Their drinks cooled, and somewhere high above, the sun began to rise over the city of Rosohna.

But down here, beneath the blanket of perpetual stars, the only light was from the low, flickering lamps along the wall.

“I would do anything,” one said.

“…is that so?” said the other.

—

He was released after the impact knocked his parasol aside and his skin very quickly, visibly, began to redden. They immediately ushered him into the tent, shouting and laughing and clapping him on the back all the way, though he noticed that despite the friendly reception from Jester, Caduceus, Fjord, and even Yasha, Veth seemed somewhat frozen in her smile, and Beau even less warm.

That was…probably to be expected, actually. He wondered if this might present an issue and was about to open his mouth, say something, until he noticed a figure striding across the tent floor, side-stepping a stack of crates, and taking him by the hand.

Essek met his eyes. It had been some time, since he saw those eyes. Then he blinked.

“By the light, Caleb, you have grown a beard.”

There was a pause, and then Caleb laughed, and that was new too. Essek always forgot how quickly humans could change.

“I had meant to shave it before you arrived,” Caleb admitted. “It is, ah, a product of sleepless nights overseeing the construction of a new school.”

“It’s terrible,” Jester said. “It makes you look old.”

“I can fix this now if needed,” said a voice, followed by the sound of an unsheathing sword.

“Er…maybe…later, bitte?”

And Essek couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “I nearly forgot how boisterous all of you are, all the time. I have…” He turned, faced the Mighty Nein. “My life has not been nearly as interesting without you in it.”

“Well then, welcome back,” Caduceus gave a smile.

And even Veth, despite their…history, stepped forward.

“I said it once before, didn’t I? Welcome to the Mighty Nein, Essek.”

She even stuck out a hand for him to shake.

—

“I want you to report back everything to me. And when the time comes, when your Headmaster is summoned to the castle, I want you to go with him.”

“But…Mother, why?”

Her voice was nothing but gentle as she addressed her son.

“It is well-known that King Bertrand Dwendal has no heirs. And rules over quite a…combative court, with an iron fist.”

She leaned in even closer.

“What would happen to the Empire, do you think, if he was removed from that picture?”

—

And somewhere else, on what felt like the opposite side of the world, Caleb put an arm around Essek’s shoulder, and grinned.

“It is good to see you again, my friend.”

Essek’s lip twitched into what could approximately be called a smile.

“Good to see you as well,” he said.

#to be continued...? #critical role #critfic #shadowgast #critrole #cr2 #the mighty nein #fanfiction #fanfic #jay writes #long post #LONG ASS POST #SUCH A LONG POST IM SO SORRY #for later #i dont have a tag for this yet so let's call it #time to build a magic school #text #fic

[hankwritten]

Maybe It's OK to Want This

Demoman/Soldier, 1k

Part of the DontNeedADiscord Pride Week, Day 3: Colors

He’d called me a “Red Devil” once, back when it was still a little true, when everything we said had a bit of heat in it. We were cautious then, not sure how far we were taking this, unclear on whether meeting up with the enemy once or twice counted as a transgression or not. Everything had an edge, not quite sincere, where the only thing allowed to be genuine was the gentle ribbing and the less than gentle scuffles.

It was always, “c’mon BLU, stay for another drink,” and, “not going to happen RED.” We didn’t even have the decency to call each other by our class titles, just RED and BLU, colors of our shirts and colors of our allegiances. It was sudden—blink and you’ll miss it—when each other’s real names started slipping out.

Blue didn’t even suit him. He was red-blooded inside and out, as much in the way he declared his patriotism as in his fire when he started spitting fighting words. No one else saw it the way I did, though. He was sullen in public, gruff, ‘grumpy’ even if Scout’s commentary was accurate to the general consensus, and people were always surprised when I could get him to laugh at the poker table. I was the outgoing one after all, bright and energetic, always there with a joke or a drink to bring my cheerless companion out of his burrow. No one else seemed to notice the placidity was just his state of neutrality, that it only took a bit of elbow grease for the paint to come right off.

And me? Well I was always shite at being Red in the soul.

I wasn’t even good at hiding it, though that didn’t matter much when no one cared to look. They were much happier with the boisterous drunk who at least got his job done, and I feared the day when someone wasn’t satisfied anymore and wanted to crack open the oyster’s shell, prying it apart until there was no coming back together again. No, I’d always been partial to the melancholic—the dark, the brooding, the stewing in your own self-hate until it’s all you have. But Soldier could change that. He never asked about the days when I suddenly didn’t want to do anything anymore, canceling plans last minute and trying to slink away into the depths of the mansion so I could drink myself into oblivion. Despite the boisterousness of him all, he wasn’t one for talking—instead, he’d hunt me down, on the battlefield or off, and sit by my side while I bawled my eye out. It was hard to thank him for that. It’d mean admitting it happened in the first place.

When our lives started bleeding together, when the names of our employers dropped from our vocabulary, I could feel it become dangerous. That this was more than skirting the letter of the law in the edges of our contracts, that it was sinking into something violet, plum colored ink seeping into the lines of a new agreement we’d penned ourselves.

I panicked. Not because I knew we’d crossed a line somewhere, but because I felt there was even more to come.

During a night in a smoky casino where it was hard to see the table in front of you, and Soldier was happy enough. The women that had joined us for the evening were most certainly lovely, and the blonde that had singled him out kept leaving him with a dopey grin on his face every time she whispered something in his ear. Money attracted here in the city of sin, and it was clear we were men with deep pockets even before we’d begun our lucky night. My own lassie was playing a different game all together; instead of being so bold as to sit in my lap, she would lean on my arm and only pay me half a mind, watching me out of the corner of her eye with a smirk on her black-painted lips.

The strap of her red cocktail dress slid down every now and again. I’d lift it back up, and she’d say, “thanks handsome,” while sipping from her martini.

I enjoyed those sorts of games. The dance of trading suggestive comments is a lost art—by the time I’d asked if she was spending the night anywhere, Soldier and his date had long since disappeared.

It was a nice distraction. When I knocked on the door of our interconnecting rooms the next morning, I felt better than I had in ages. Reaffirmed.

It didn’t last. I could feel him—feel us—still bleeding into one another, getting further and further from when exchanged jibes over ribs and a few beers. It wasn’t okay how much I enjoyed it. It wasn’t right how much I wanted him.

I settled back into affable drunkenness, perfectly sanguine as I picked up more women than usual in some rabid attempt at normalcy. It was all fun, and I could sit in the morning after and assure myself this is what I liked, that what I wanted from Soldier was something completely different than this.

Funnily enough, that was true in its own way.

It was hard to describe the difference between Soldier and, well, anyone. Hard in words, at least. How do I even begin to limn how watching him come to life during a night on the town was so different from batting flirty remarks with a potential bedmate? Why was his arm around my shoulders as equally stirring as a palm over the back of my hand, yet still so wildly different?

Because one of those things is wrong, I tried to tell myself, but that rang hollow after the fortieth time I’d grumbled it into a scrumpy bottle.

How could this be wrong? I asked myself when he grinned at me, helmetless, sitting on the floor of his barebones apartment. How could this be wrong? as he drunkenly leaned against me, murmuring something into my neck too unintelligible to make out. A soft confession about medals never earned. An admission of a terrible deed on a distant loch’s shores. His thumb caressing the scar tissue of my left eye after he’d asked to see underneath.

It was that moment where I stopped trying. Trying to articulate what we were was like describing colors to a blind man; fruitless, time better spent by both of you elsewhere. So instead of words, I used the colors themselves:

His eyes were ocean blue, pulling me in, capturing like a riptide that’d never let go.

My lips were bloodstained red the first time we met, split from where he’d punched me, and ripped open more when we laughed about it later.

We were both purple and bruised, injured from new fights as well as old, and I slid my hands around the back of his neck and pulled him toward me.

He didn’t react at first. But that was short lived, because when a second ticked by, then two, the hand that still hung near my eye dropped to my shirt and dragged me even closer, his mouth rushing to meet mine as we finally blended our yet-unspoilt hues.

A bruise has a lot of color to it. Practically a splattered canvas with yellows and greens and oranges poking through, but the purple spreads out the furthest. Warm when you press down too hard.

That’s what it was bringing out lips together: pressing on a bruise that had been blooming between us for ages.

#dnadprideweek2021 #demosolly #tf2 fanfiction

[sadlazzle]

ah yes, my favourite platformer, dark souls

#i get the platforming in sekiro and elden ring #but regular dark souls ?? in which just jumping is a fuckin task ???? #ur gonna force me to great hollow my way down this shit jst to get to a dlc boss ??? #no one asked for this #like girl this is NOT it #plum plays dark souls 3

[herald-divine-hell]

3. smiling while kissing for Alex and Leli

Thank you for the ask.

3. smiling while kissing

Alexandra drummed her fingers upon the top of her black-brown desk, brows furrowing as her other hand lifted the spectacles further up the bridge of her nose. Golden-flecked green eyes flowed across the parchment in an ease and unbreakable speed, and as Leliana crossed her arms over her chest, tipping her hip against the stone railing of the staircase, a tremor of affection rolled through her. A smile grew on her face before she could stop it, the mask of the Spymaster lifted off for a moment or two. She did not need it - not here. Not with Alexandra.

"If you find the sight so fascinating," said the Inquisitor, with a hint of a chuckle mingling with her words, "I suggest you find one of the Imperial Artists Celene sent us."

Smiling, Leliana began a slow walk to the Inquisitor's desk. Sunlight flitted through in long, sweeping spears, gray stone flushing and scarlet carpet glimmering faint amber. The hearth burned low, spitting flakes of embers into the air and splintering gorges into the blacken wood. A soft crackle came from the dying hearthfire, as the wind rattled gently taps against the panes, cut in shapes of triangles and rectangles and in colors of gold and orange and sapphire. Most depicted the fires of Andraste cut by the Sword of Hessarian, gleaming across like waves in the seas by the straying light.

She begun to unstrap the leather ties of her armor, sighing a little as she lifted the sheet of chainmail off, tugging off the leather gloves, and slipping out of the steel boots. The chilled air of the mountains slipped easily through her thin tunic, goosebumps beginning to prickle her skin. But warmth suddenly flooded the chambers, a soft subtle burst of heat that came from a floating flame of gold and red, streaming with thin plums of smoke. Slowly it spun, casting amber light in spinning threads across the stone walls and over the stone floor. Ribbons of ruby and gold and orange splatted the floor, drawing away the shadows who fled into the deep corners of the bedroom and beneath the Inquisitor's bed. The former looked...quite inciting...

Clearing her throat, and trying to rid herself of a growing warmth that most certainly came from the magical bobbing fire, Leliana glided behind Alexandra's chair, wrapping her arms around her neck, and resting her chin upon her shoulder. "They wouldn't be able to capture your beauty," mumbled Leliana, in a voice she dared allowed to hold a twinge of tiredness. When had it last been since she slept? Perhaps over three days? Maybe four. It was not her fault, at all. Work had to be done.

Alexandra caught onto it like a lioness with her prey, a hand drawing up to gently caress Leliana's arm, finger trailing over a white-faded scar. "You're tired, so I doubt you could be able to capture my so-called 'beauty.'" Despite the words, Leliana heard a smile upon Alexandra's lips - a true one, not marred by charm for political motivations or an assuring, benign one she wore to those who need it. The latter was often the most sincere, Leliana found, though she often gave too much that it tired her in the end, even if she argued that she was not.

"Even if I was blinded, your beauty would lift the darkness from it," whispered Leliana, laying a kiss to her cheek, before nuzzling deeper into the crock of her neck.

A sweet and light chuckle, almost airy. "That was terrible."

"Oh," mocked Leliana, trying to keep her own giggles down with a strong effort, "hush."

Suddenly Alexandra was facing her, arms wrapped snug around Leliana's waist, drawing her close that she laid a kiss to her stomach, a place where Alexandra knew a scar would be. "Oh, I shall, for I rather hear your singing than any pealing bell or spring wind." The golden-tipped emerald fire within her eyes flickered with open amusement, semingly pleased with that one.

Scoffing, Leliana rolled her eyes, though her smile was fond. Her fingers began to stroke through Alexandra's thick mane of dark curls, raveling in the softness of the textures; how her fingers seemingly got lost in those waves, before resurfacing with some in a light hold. Leliana adored her hair, enjoyed playing with it while Alexandra slept in peace. One of the few times either one of them could find peace, and Leliana wanted to savor the sight before the world took her away again.

Alexandra's smile reached her eyes, so bright and lovely that it paled the basking sun in dawn with clouds of shadow. One of Leliana's hands came to cup a soft cheek, caressing a high and sharp cheekbones. Swimming into those golden-foamed emerald waves, lazily carrying her soul in a light hold, Leliana felt a peace lift the burden of duty from her shoulders. How easily it had become, when staring into Alexandra's eyes, when that tasked felt as if she had to lift the Frostback Mountains themselves. How sweeter and calming life had become when Alexandra stumbled into her life, despite the headaches.

Without care, Leliana bent down and laid a kiss upon Alexandra's smiling lips, one mirroring upon her own. Gently her hand slipped through the dark tresses into the small nape of her neck. There too she began to draw faint circles that she knew would send a pleasurable shiver down Alexandra's back.

Time bled away, the worries of the world unraveling like threads on a tugged tapestry. For eons it felt as she kissed Alexandra, but it felt too soon when they pulled away to catch breath. Alexandra took a moment or two, but not more when she asked, "Can you kiss me again?" And there in that breathless whisper, a hint of shyness lingered, one only she seemed ever to draw out; and Leliana would be lying if she did not say that pleasure stroke the fires of her heart at it.

And how could I possible deny Andraste's Herald of a request?

Giggling, Leliana's lips met Alexandra's once more in their familiar, foriegn dance. Slipping into Alexandra's lap, hands now holding her face, she knew that the world did not bleed away to nothingness. When Leliana held Alexandra, she held her world in her hands.

-

Ask more Kisses Prompts here

#thank you for the ask #this-is-something-idk-what #dragon age inquisition #dragon age #dragon age leliana #dragon age trevelyan #dragon age inquisitor #female trevelyan #female inquisitor #f!inquisitor #f!trevelyan #leliana x inquisitor #inquisitor x leliana #f!inquisitor x leliana #leliana x f!inquisitor #f!trevelyan x leliana #leliana x f!trevelyan #alexandra trevelyan #dragon age ocs #fluff #fluff fanfic #my fanfic #my writing #da #dai #dragon age fanfic

[ellabrownbooks]

A fluffy gwynriel story

Azriel settled into his velvet armchair, secluded in the corner of the room. He preferred staying out of sight. Pulling back the curtains in the same dark plum hue as the chair, he looked out across the river Sidra. Moving blobs speckled his view, drifting in and out. He let the curtain go, allowing the fabric to caress his scarred fingers for a few moments more. He was reminded of a certain redhead’s actions earlier in the day. Although admittedly, he had been the one instigating the caressing. “Well done, Gwyn. You might be able to beat Cassian soon,” he had joked. “Not you?”, she cheekily replied. “Not a chance”, he retorted with a smug grin on his face. As she tenderly rolled her eyes, one wisp of shadow spiralled close to his right ear. He had made his face into a practiced expression of serene calmness, but inside his mind had stilled like the frozen Sidra many decades ago. Roasted chestnuts, his brothers, seeing his breath all floated up to him like memories. It was funny to think she hadn’t even been born into this world yet. Just waiting in the corridors. In a tone many shades more serious than before, he replied: “The day you beat me, truly beat me, will be the proudest moment of my life.” He worried he had overstepped, but on reflection, she seemed alright, maybe he would even let himself think pleased. He had always been a shy, awkward child, not knowing what to say and when. His friends, the shadows, had helped to smooth over any awkward moments but with Gwyn, it took real coaxing to get them to speak. He wondered if their allegiance was shifting or…already had. His thoughts returned back to the crime thriller in his hands. The torturer scene was laughable but the overall plot pleased him and at least it was a break from his usual dry researching. He slowly felt his eyes drooping and decided that it was probably best to stop there. His late-night training sessions with Gwyn were taking a toll on his energy. He wanted to be able to train at more friendly hours but recently that hadn’t been possible and Gwyn seemed as if she wanted to be there no matter the time. Something about not being able to sleep. He should really look into that.  

A fair set of hands attempted to pick up the book from between his hands and smothered a giggle at his odd mid-sleep expression, hunched over the book like someone even more studious than Merrill. Her mission to stay silent failed in the most tremendous of fashions when she knocked over the wine glass on the oak side table onto the floor in a less than elegant manner. A hint of a smile appeared on a now awake Azriel. “So gentle, my dear.”, he teased. Upon hearing the first part, she had all manners of retorts planned, primed to fire, but the endearment quietened her completely. He had been calling her sweet things more and more often recently and each time she foolishly allowed herself to hope, to dream. He outstretched each hand to the side in an inviting way and without thinking twice, she clambered onto him. Whether he was surprised or pleased, she didn’t know. He always was impossible to read, but she vowed that she would spend her life trying to find out more about him, her enigma. She curled herself into a ball and whispered for him to go back to sleep. He slowly circled his fingers on the curve of her back and the rhythmic up-and-down of his chest sent her off into a dreamless nap.

An Illyrian warrior bounded into the room, not caring one bit about sound until he spotted the two cocooning creatures huddled in the corner. He let out a low breath and stared in silence for a while before going upstairs to warm his mate’s bed. The shock was quickly replaced with undiluted joy as Cassian had always wanted his often-lonesome brother to find a mate. Since the first couple of one-on-one training sessions between him and Gwyn, he had thought they had something, but this confirmed it. To some, using another as a bed might not be much but to these two tortured souls, it meant everything. He hoped with all the goodness of his heart that these two would be together until darkness died.

Darkness had fully embraced the sun when Azriel first started to stir, but the moon and the stars had attended the party as well. By his estimations there were still several hours until sunrise. The starlight outlined his beautiful sleeping partner, curled up in his arms. Cassian had tried for over three hundred years to spoil Azriel’s perfected mask but in the six hundred years of his long life no one had ever come as close as Gwyneth Berdara. He suspected she would be the first in many things to come. He waited several minutes in the dark, contemplating how this beautiful creature had bounded her way into his life. What had he done to deserve such an amazing woman? He knew the answer: nothing. Perhaps the Mother was playing a trick on him, taunt him with the possibility of her before revealing her to be promised to someone else. At times like this, doubt buried itself deep into Azriel’s mind and latched on with claws outstretched. The calm being in his arms began to jostle in his arms, vigorously shaking her head from left to right. She began muttering over and over something unintelligible. A dread anchored itself in the pits of Azriel’s stomach. He frantically rallied his shadows to attempt to pull her out and sending the urgency of the situation they obeyed instantaneously. A small yawn escaped her lips and a slightly dazed Gwyn looked up at him. “I’m here.”, he said. “I know.”, she replied with a soft smile. “Thank you.” “You don’t have to thank me.” said Azriel in as few words as possible, but after a moment, remembered his manners and offered Gwyn some hot milk. “That would be lovely, thank you. I can help too.” Knowing better to protest, Azriel gently lifted her out of his arms and onto the floor but not before kissing her fiery red hair with the softest of touches. The light pitter of their feet (more so hers than his) continued into the kitchen where Azriel began heating some milk. Never one to keep silence, Gwyn asked, “Why did you offer hot milk?”. Azriel knew this had been coming, had anticipated her curiosity behind his offer. “My mother.”, replied Azriel. Gwyneth’s eyes reflected the light a little more as she gently squeezed Azriel’s fingertips. She thanked him and threaded her fingers through his as they made their way out of the room. Although Azriel deeply wished to show her his room, he happily returned with her to where they had once been.

Thanks so much for reading <3!!!!!

#gwynriel #azriel #acosf #acotar #gwyn #fanfiction fluffy fluffygwynriel

[dagnyart]

My  @daredevilexchange  for @nauticalypso  I hope you like it, I’ve put my soul in this comic х)  I took your promt “ Frank was away for *one day*, why is everyone suddenly singing?? “  It was very interesting to capture Frank’s emotions and find how to put such  big idea in 1-3 arts ^_^ I think  the music on the last frame is  The Dance of the Sugar Plum by Tchaikovsky :3 [ It’s a coloured comics in 3 pages with Frank from  Netflix’s  The Punisher and  The DareDevil . For colours I inspirated by  The Punisher omnibus “black and white”. The first page is in yellow palette. The first frame with morning cafe in Hell’s kitchen. It’s called“Route ∞ Cafe” and it has the sign “Open” on it’s door. On the second frame ( the last for this page) Frank is sitting in a white t-shirt with a cup of coffe and listening people inside. He is grumpy because everyone is loudly singing “Be our guest” from the  Disney Beauty and The Beast. There are a young blond barista-boy,  charming redhead waitress and two guests inside.  Frank thoughts in black bubbles: I’ve always been certain I know New York. Know what’s in it’s blood, the streets, the whereabouts. That is my huntsfield. Apparently, this time I’ve been away for too long.  The second page is in blue palette because it’s the night time. For the background is abandoned hangar. On the first frame there are 4 armed people in leather jackets and vests. It seems they are dancing.On the second frame it’s a closeup to Frank’s eyes. He is puzzled. He says “What the hell?”  On the third frame those guys are lying on the ground. It seems they are hurted a lot.  Frank thoughts in black bubbles for the first frame: The Schoolplay again. Backstreet version this time. These clowns’re getting their kicked ass instead of applause.  Frank thoughts in black bubbles for the third frame: Something’s not right with the city. I need to figure out what, quickly. The third page is in blue and yellow palette with some red for DareDevil’s costume. Church’s vitrage window and some space near it for the background. It’s dark inside but street lights can reach Frank and DareDevil through the window. On the first frame DareDevil is sitting on the vitrage window and listening Frank. Frank is standing back to him and complaining : “You tell me why’s everybody become Neil Patrick Harris Tony Awards supporting cast at once? Some kept broadwaying on even with their ribs broken…Drop a single idea of what’s going on.”  On the second frame DareDevil jumps from the window and comes to Frank’s back. He put his hand on Frank’s shoulder and says: “Frank, I know it ain’t easy to understand, but try to listen~”   On the last frame suddenly the ballet music starts to play and Daredevil makes a ballet movement and put his leg above his head. Frank is  deeply shocked. The end ]

#daredevilexchange #frank castle #punisher netflix #matt murdock #marel art

[talkfastromance4]

sooo here what I was thinking (and if you don't like it or it's kind of weird or complicated,you can completely ignore this) for Michael's single mom universe: reader has an one night stand and ends up pregnant,she doesn't want to tell best friend!Michael bc he's getting ready for a huge tour,so when she's 3 months along (and still hiding the pregnancy) he goes on tour and when comes back he finds reader with a 4 month old baby boy and struggling to bc she's all by herself and +++

+++ he is kinda angry she didn't tell him bc he could've helped but he's overwhelmed with this woman keeping everything together and caring so much for this tiny baby (I imagine him being called Daniel??? Like the lion??? Or maybe Theo??? It's completely up to you tho) and wants to be in the baby boy's life bc he can't help the immediate love he feels once he meets him and asks reader to move in with him so they can take care together of the baby+++

I. LOVE. THIS!

This got a little long because I want the first blurb of michael dating single!mom to cover all that you wrote!

• • • •

Three months you’ve been keeping this secret. From your family, your friends, your coworkers and from your best friend Michael. You decided today was the day you were going to tell him. 

You were going to tell him about your one night stand from that cute guy at the bar you poured your heart and soul to about how she’s in love with her best friend and because of alcohol and heightened emotions and the need to feel close to someone, you brought him back to your place. 

Now, three months later, you’re carrying the only evidence that it ever happened in your belly. Your baby is the size of a plum but your love for it is the size of the sun. You didn’t tell the father because you never got his contact information and you doubt he’d stick around, it was a one night stand after all. 

You walk into Michael’s house, dogs greeting you happily as you venture down the hall to his bedroom. When you come inside it’s a warzone.

“Did your closet throw up?” you ask tugging on your oversized shirt. You’ve opted for larger clothes to hide your growing belly, it’s not that big yet but still. 

“No. I’m trying to decide which clothes to bring for tour,” he mumbles.

“Tour. Right, that starts . . . holy shit, tomorrow doesn’t it?” you ask becoming nervous. Since becoming pregnant, you’ve gotten a little more forgetful. There’s no way you can drop this news on him now. 

“Yeah, has been for the last three months,” he chuckles tossing a sweatshirt in his suitcase. “What’s up? Want to do one last night of switch and pizza before I go?”

“Sure,” you smile. 

The rest of the night is spent trying to act normal for Michael as you play mario kart and eat pizza. The dogs are cuddling you a lot more than normal and Southy keeps sniffing at your tummy and you hope Michael doesn’t notice.

You’re woken the next morning to Michael gently nudging you awake, it’s still pretty dark outside. 

“Hey, I’m heading to the airport but you can stay sleeping,” he whispers and you sit up rubbing your eyes. “I’ll call you when I land, okay?”

“Okay,” you sigh holding your arms open and he gives you a tight hug.

“Love you,” he kisses the top of your head.

“Love you too, Mikey.”

****

The next six months were even harder keeping your pregnancy from Michael. You finally told your friends and family but had them swear not to tell Michael because he needs to focus on performing. When he’d call it was easy to hide it, but when he wanted to facetime you really had to come up with clever ways to hide your belly. 

Ironically, after you gave birth to your baby boy Theo and you spent the first couple months building his routine and loving on him, it was when Michael was the busiest on tour. It was nearing an end soon, so would your secret.

You’d stay up most nights thinking of his reaction and so many different scenarios played out in your head. He’ll scream at you and never talk to you again. Or he won’t say anything and just leave. 

When Theo turns four months old, that’s when Michael will be home again and he’ll be by to pick up the dogs. You always watched them when he went away and they’ve been amazing with Theo. 

Theo is in the living room in his tiny bouncer when Michael said he’s just pulled up. Your hands are clammy and your stomach has flipped upside down as you wait for him by the front door. 

When it opens, the dogs start barking and attack him as he falls to the floor letting them. He pets them the best he can while saying hello then looks up at you, he gives you a funny look. 

“You look different,” he muses standing up to his feet and pulls you into his arms for a tight embrace. 

You melt into his touch, breathing him in and feeling his presence. You hadn’t realized how much you missed him and you hope this won’t be the last hug. 

“Your hair looks longer,” you smile tousling his blond locks. “Um, so I am different but in more ways than my looks.”

“What are you talking about?” he asks in confusion when you pull away. His hands are still on your elbows. 

“Um, there’s someone I want you to meet,” you say nervously and back away to the living room. “Stay here and let me explain before you say anything. Okay?” You hold up your pinky for him to take, a serious pact between you two. He links his pinky with yours. 

You lift Theo from his bouncer and he wriggles in your arms until he’s nestled comfortably in your arms. You appear in the kitchen and Michael’s eyes get wide as saucers. 

“Three months before you left on tour, I hooked up with a guy and I was going to tell you but you were literally leaving for tour the next morning and I couldn’t drop that bomb on you and I didn’t want to do it over the phone and please don’t hate me. But this is my son, Theo and he turned four months old today and I really don’t want you to hate me,” you say all in one breath. Michael just stares. 

And stares. And stares. And stares. 

“Please say something,” you beg adjusting Theo in your arms. 

He takes a careful step forward, looking between you and Theo over and over again. He keeps stepping until he’s right in front of you and brushes his finger on Theo’s small forehead. 

“He looks just like you, Y/N,” he says softly. “The only thing I’m mad about is that you’ve been doing this all on your own. Where’s his dad? Did he kick you to the curb? I’ll kick his ass right--”

“I never told him. I don’t even know his name or got his number. It’s better this way, Mikey. Me and Theo. . . we’re doing okay,” you smile down at your beautiful baby boy. 

Michael watches you rock him gently then holds out his arms. “Can I hold him?”

“Yeah! Yes, of course you can,” you smile and place Theo in his arms. He rocks him carefully, his long finger touching his nose. He coos at him gently and smiles at him even though Theo’s eyes are closed.

“Move in with me.”

“What? Mikey, no, this isn’t your responsibility--”

“I don’t care. I want to help, and he’s so amazing and I love him so much even though I just met him. Let me help you take care of him, you’re my best friend.”

Your heart jolts, both at the sight of him holding your son and at the fact that he wants to help you even though Theo isn’t his. And just like that, you agree and you’re more in love with him than before, which basically was how Theo was conceived.

• • • •

Taglist: @galcalirwin @cashtonasff5sos @wokeupinjapanisabop @myloverboyash  @rotten-kandy @tea4sykes @jannimoeller3 @loveroflrh @iovehemmings @cxddlyash @princesslrh @here-for-the-uproars @katiaw2 @g-l-pierce @fairyintheglass @gosh-im-short @banditocth @dezzym17 @wildflowerxcth @lukeisbaby

#michael clifford #michael clifford blurb #michael clifford fluff #michael fluff #michael blurb #michael x reader #michael x single!mom #michael x single mom!reader

[myluciferiscody]

In Case You Don’t Live Forever P.4

pairing: Xavier Plympton x Reader

word count: 2,313

warnings: language, sadness, fluff, slight angst

not entirely proof-read. *title inspired by Ben Platt’s song*

part 1 part 2 part 3

Life was fucking weird. 

If it wasn't apparent to you then, you definitely realized it now. 

Camp Redwood should just be burned to the ground, you thought to yourself. Your body felt like it was floating; nothing was holding you, you were just floating. Your eyes would not open, no matter how many times you attempted it. The air around you was cold, gently ruffling your hair and tenderly brushing against your skin. You had been there for a few moments, you thought.

In the real world, you were gone for weeks. 

The day you died, everyone had come running back to the cabin, their arms loaded with supplies to take care of you. The sight of Xavier holding your dead body would haunt them forever. His cries of agony could probably be heard in Los Angeles as he begged you to come back. 

The boys attempted to pull Xavier away from you, but he refused, picking up the dagger Richard Ramirez had left behind when he was dragged out. Your blood had already started to dry, and the others held their hands up, promising they wouldn't touch you. At least, not yet. 

Montana sat next to Trevor outside, Ray and Chet leaning against some trees. They sat in silence, unable to hear Xavier as he forced them out, slamming the doors in their face. 

"She has to come back, right?" Chet asked.

"It wouldn't make sense if she didn't," Montana frowned, "All of us did, he needs to calm down,"

Ray glared down at the blonde, straightening up. He knew nothing about you other than your name, and you were friends with Xavier. Yet, he still felt the need to defend you, to defend Xavier. You didn't deserve this. 

You were here to grieve, not die. 

"Why are you so miserable all of the time, hmm?" Ray snapped, prepared to fight a girl. Montana could probably beat his ass if he let her, but he was tired of being unheard in the group. 

"What the fuck is your problem?" Montana asked, standing up. Trevor rubbed a hand over his face while Chet watched excitedly. 

"You have nothing nice to say about anybody! You have no respect, did you know that, Montana? What the fuck did y/n ever do to you?"

Montana remained silent, sizing up Ray from head to toe. Maybe she wasn't in love with Xavier, but she liked him enough. All he would talk about was you, before and after 1984. It pissed her off that nobody loved her like Xavier loved you.

"You only care about yourself, an innocent person just died! You're Xavier's friend, right? How about you go in there and say what you just told us, see how fast he knocks you-"

A loud slap came from nowhere, his head whipping to the side. Trevor's mouth dropped open, slightly turned on by what just happened. Chet was speechless, looking at Montana with concern. 

Montana was never one to apologize for her actions, and today was no different. She turned and stomped off, heading in the direction of the kitchens. Nobody bothered to go after her, knowing it would be a death sentence to disturb her. 

"You okay, man?" Chet finally spoke up, placing a hand on Ray's shoulder.

"I'm fine," he said, blinking away the slight tear that formed in his eye. "I just, I did a lot of screwed up shit in my life, I want to be a better person." 

"It's not too late for you," Trevor spoke up. The two boys turned, giving him a quizzical look. "We uh, we need to go in there, Xavier shouldn't be doing this to himself." 

The boys agreed, slowly climbing up the steps and opening the door. It was silent in the other room, and as they joined Xavier, he was still holding you, his head resting on your head. Your eyes had already glazed over, the beautiful orbs now dead to the world. 

"Xav," Ray said, holding out a hand. Xavier glared at them, his eyes still glassy, but no tears fell. "We need to move her,"

"LEAVE us alone, please!" Xavier said, his voice cracking. 

Chet took a step forward, mimicking Ray's actions, "Plympton, she wouldn't want you doing this, we have to get her somewhere, they need to find her and bring her home."

Xavier couldn't argue with that, he knew Chet was right, damn him. You would be upset with him if he made himself suffer like this.

Xavier pressed a final kiss to your forehead, before slowly climbing off the bed. Ray kept him in place as Trevor and Chet gently grabbed you, wrapping you in a blanket and carrying you out.

Since nobody could get beyond the gates, they had to come up with a solution. The chances of you being found right away were slim to none. Xavier stayed back, his blue eyes shedding tears like a broken faucet. 

You were one of the purest souls in the world, the most genuine Xavier had ever known. Would you come back to him? Would he be stuck for eternity in a world where you ceased to exist?

Xavier permanently residing in Camp Redwood was not easy. He managed to have a lot of good days, his new friends, and the things they did daily kept him grounded. But when it came to you, he had missed you dearly. It was more comforting to know you were alive in Los Angeles, leaving your mark on the world.

Now that you were gone, and that you might not return is what killed him the most.

_

Some poor souls found you while going on a hike.

They ran to the nearest payphone, calling the police, and once again, the camp was a crime scene.

Xavier and the others made no appearances, for the time being, Montana surprisingly honoring Xavier's wishes. The slight bruises and cuts along your body were clues, but it baffled the on-site coroner who was trying to figure out how you actually died.

Your car was then relocated, possibly going into evidence or to your parents who had filed you missing within two days of not hearing from you. When authorities questioned them, asking what business you had being there, they immediately brought up Xavier Plympton.

They found no substances in your system, obviously. Your injuries weren't deadly, so suicide was immediately ruled out. It brought some comfort to your parents, though. Your mom knew how distressed you were about Xavier, but the knowledge that a monster took you away stuck with them.

Eventually, Richard Ramirez was finally caught. Now that his count was to fifteen, he had no trouble admitting that he was the one who killed you. Though it was a freak incident, he took credit much to the horror of your parents and the family of the victims. Richard would eventually die in prison from cancer.

Your apartment was cleaned out, everything going to auction, or with your parents or the Plympton family. A framed photo of you and him was now hanging in your parent's house. They didn't just lose a daughter, they also lost a son.

You guys had known each other for years. The birthday parties, sleepovers, school plays, eventually going to homecoming dances together, (though Xavier had better things to do, he went because you did). Your mother wiped her tears, thinking of the more innocent times as they lowered your body into the ground.

-

December 1985

Your body slowly stretched as you woke up, yawning loudly. Your eyes were crusty, and you wiped at them with a slight grimace.

Your memory had been a little foggy, but as you sat up, you remembered where you were. You visited Camp Redwood in June, to see Xavier. He showed up, somehow, and then-

You slowly ran a hand down your torso, before feeling your legs that were clad in shorts. There were no cuts, no bruises, nothing as you started to observe your body. You knew you had died, and now you came back as a ghost?

You sat up and went to a dusty mirror, your hands touching your face. You looked flawless; any blemish, freckle, anything you hated was gone. It was like passing over made you into your most beautiful self, and it confused you.

You lightly smacked yourself in the face, seeing you could still feel pain. Your knuckles cracked when you flexed them, and your hair was silkier than ever. You looked and felt entirely human.

"This is crazy," you mumbled to yourself. Did everybody else react like this when they came back?

Since the sun was out, you decided to venture out. The air was crisp, telling you it had to be Fall, at least. Los Angeles never got cold, just a little nippy during the Fall and Winter seasons. You wondered why you woke up wearing shorts, but the long-sleeved top you wore (did you buy this in Heaven?) kept you warm. It was a plum purple, and it looked lovely on you.

You were hoping to run into somebody, just to feel like you weren't alone anymore. The last few months in what seemed like a dark, cold chamber left you isolated. You just wanted human interaction.

You remembered the others, Chet, Ray, Montana, Pornstache? You thought about calling their names, knowing they were around somewhere. You were anxious to see Xavier again, you remembered his words to you right before you died.

Even if you guys had the rest of eternity, you were dead. It was weird to think about.

"Hello?" You called your voice bored. "Somebody? Any help will be appreciated!"

Crickets.

You huffed, continuing on your trek until the sound of a twig snapping caught your attention. You looked around, the last time this happened, the Night Stalker abducted you. You still didn't see anything.

"Ray? Montana? Chet? The guy with the porno mustache?" You asked, refusing to step into the woods.

"Did you forget about me already, babe?"

Xavier poked his head from behind a tree, giving you a cheeky grin. You smiled at him, feeling as if an electric current was madly sparking between you two. He took a quick moment to observe how bright you looked, how beautiful you were. The past six months of endlessly waiting were finally here.

You were home.

You wished you could say the reunion was perfect, but you nearly stumbled into him as you overlooked a small hole in the ground. Xavier caught you, holding you up as the two of you giggled.

"I'm sorry!" You gasped, your hands fisting his now white shirt. He shook his head, cupping the back of your head and allowing your face to hide in his neck.

"I don't care, y/n, I'm just happy you finally came back to me," he whispered.

Xavier really didn't mean to say that last part out loud. His cheeks turned red as you looked up at him, your hands cupping his face as you smiled. His blue eyes were uncertain as they glanced from your eyes to your lips.

"I love you, Xavier Plympton," you stated proudly, loving the comical way his eyes widened. "I've loved you for so many years,"

Xavier's tear ducts were a work of art as he struggled not to cry. "I wish I hadn't been so stupid when we were alive, to tell you how I really feel,"

You nodded, "I was stupid too, Xav," his cheeks warmed up at your nickname. "I guess we have eternity now, huh?"

"You better believe it, babe," he said before he smashed his lips against yours. You gasped in surprise, squealing like a little girl in your head.

Your first kiss with Xavier was the best kiss you'd ever had. Even in death, he was a total babe.

It was quite a sight, the two of you making out in a wooded area. Xavier's hands stayed above your hips, running along your back, eventually sliding up your side to wrap his hands around your neck, just feeling you.

"GET A ROOM!"

You jumped from Xavier, but he didn't seem surprised. You hadn't had the chance to perfect the powers you now had as a ghost, but Xavier felt their presence before they even turned the corner. You hid your face from them, burying your head in his shirt.

After that steamy session, Xavier had a permanent smirk on his face.

"Well, I never thought I'd say this, but it's going to be nice to have another lady around here," Montana sighed, her arms crossed over her chest. The others were all smiling at the sight of you and Xavier.

"At least one of us can get laid around here," Chet mumbled. You gave him a surprised look, this time your cheeks becoming cherry red.

"My name is Trevor, if it doesn't work out with Plympton, I'm your man," he said, joking more than anything. Xavier glared at him, squeezing you tighter.

".. Joking," Trevor mumbled.

"How do you feel?" Ray asked, kindly.

You smiled a little, shrugging, "It kind of feels like I'm still alive,"

Montana grinned, the first time she really seemed genuine with you, "It's great, isn't it?" 

"Is it still 1985?" You asked, and they nodded.

"Almost into the new year, actually," Xavier said, "They need to restore the power out here, give us a chance to have a New Years' kiss," he said, ignoring the fake gags and whistles coming from the others. 

You gently nudged him in the belly, smiling at him. 

"Well, I guess it's time we show you how things work around here, y/n," Montana said, stepping forward. She yanked you from Xavier's grip, poking her tongue out at him when he pouted. "It will be fine, come on," she said, dragging you along. 

Maybe being dead wasn't that bad.

*if I missed anyone, please let me know! if you want to be added to my taglist, you know the drill. only one part left!*

taglist: @thexmancometh​ @the-walking-daryl​ @trichy-knitts​ @shydragonrider​ @thefandomzoneisdangerous​ @lemonwhiskers​ @jetblackpayne​ @langdonsvcrd​ @okoktrinity22​ @uwonman​  @stefanmikaleson1864​ @sevenwonderwitch​ @rubbrninja

#xavier plympton #cody fern #ahs 1984 #michael langdon #jim mason #duncan shepherd #xavier plympton imagine #jim mason x reader #duncan shepherd x reader #xavier plympton x reader #michael langdon x reader

[artificialqueens]

we might be hollow (but we're brave) [jan x jackie] - pinkgrapefruit

A/N - hey! incase you hadn’t noticed i’m in love with this ship and I had these lyrics and timestamps in my google docs for months with branjie but it just wasn’t fully fitting. thanks to Alex for betaing and i hope you enjoy it! let me know what you think <3

*

we might be hollow (but we’re brave)

We’re never done with killing time

Can I kill it with you?

‘Til the veins run red and blue

1 7 0 7 - 0 3 - 1 5 - 2 0 0 9

The car hums, low and hoarse as Jackie waits in the school lot. She’d offhandedly promised to pick up her english partner and all of a sudden she’s regretting it, twenty minutes late and low on fuel. She switches it off, flicking the key, and then back on again, hoping not to burn out the fragile engine.

She runs out of the school sweaty and flustered, gym bag slung haphazardly over her shoulder and for a second Jackie is fixated on the way Jan’s baby hairs have plastered themselves across her forehead. The smaller girl slings her bag through the open back window, watching with a smirk as Jackie cringes - sending a warm smile in gratitude.

They play the music loud and keep the air con on low, just cool enough to dry Jan’s hair without the native New Jerseyan complaining about how it’s warmer in the arctic. Jackie’s from Canada, she doesn’t really care.

Jan gives vague directions to her home as and when she sees fit, often directing Jackie to take turns she didn’t even know existed when they’re already almost past them. It drives the brunette mad as she abuses the car’s delicate steering, all to navigate the New Jersey suburbs.

What she does notice is they end up barely two streets over from her own house. A standard three bed, two bath, decent garden house that looks just as identical as every other one in the neighbourhood.

It’s painted blue. Jackie thinks it fits.

They spend the early evening reading excerpts of Romeo and Juliet to each other on Jan’s porch. The blonde reads on the porch chair as it swings aimlessly in the warm early spring breeze. She’s still in her cheer uniform and Jackie doesn’t have a chance to ask how she manages both cheer and soccer. Jackie barely manages hockey.

They eat homemade ice cream sundaes and watch the sunset over the eerie glow of the street lamps until Jan complains she can’t see the pages anymore and Jackie has long since stopped making notes on prose and characters.

They don’t talk about school tomorrow because they won’t see each other. Jan asks if she will pick her up. Jackie says yes.

We come around here all the time

Got a lot to not do, let me kill it with you

0 7 3 2 - 0 4 - 0 2 - 2 0 0 9

Jackie gets a text at half past seven telling her quite emphatically that Jan is running late. There is no question posed that Jackie can discern on the Nokia n95 screen - the glare from the early morning screen compromising her vision anyway - but she grabs her rucksack and the keys to the car and swings round the corner anyway.

She rationalises it by telling herself that it’s on the way to school anyway. It is.

She pulls up and Jan is sat on the porch steps in a pastel pink denim miniskirt and a glittery letterman jacket. She skips to the car and slides onto the front seat with a telltale squeak of bare legs on leather, throwing her bag onto the backseat in a way that still makes Jackie cringe even after two weeks. She smells of lemongrass and vanilla.

The blonde giggles and Jackie catches her mouth curving up in the reverse mirror, so she lets Jan pick the music and just focuses on the gear stick and anything else in her control.

She watches as the blonde sways to Fifteen by Taylor Swift, belting out the lyrics like she can feel them in her soul. They’re sophomores but they were freshmen last year and to be honest, from what she knows of Jan, she wouldn’t be surprised if that was her life.

They pull into the school parking lot to the sounds of Fearless and even Jackie cracks a smile at the way Jan is beaming. They have five minutes before they need to be in school and Jackie averts her eyes as Jan twists awkwardly to grab her bag from where it ended up on the floor, skirt riding up so the brunette can see the plum lace of her panties. She gulps and pulls out her well worn copy of Little Women instead. Not watching as Jan quickly reviews her AP Biology textbook.

“Thanks Jackie! You’re the best,” Jan calls as she slams the rickety car door on the third attempt.

“Anytime Jan.” And Jackie finds she means it.

You pick me up and take me home again

Head out the window again

We’re hollow like the bottles that we drain

0 1 2 5 - 0 7 - 1 7 - 2 0 0 9

Jackie’s phone vibrates under her pillow at one in the morning on a friday. They’ve been on summer break for a month and Jackie hasn’t really done much but she’ll admit she’s missed Jan. Until she woke her up that is.

She answers it with a defeated sign, tugging on her oversized Van Halen t-shirt until it feels decent even though no one is going to look into her tiny bedroom. The light filters through the window in a way that makes it feel like she’s in a weird horror film and she remembers why this is called the witching hour.

“Come over Jack, I’m bored,” comes the whine from down the phone and Jackie has to stifle a laugh even though she knows how much trouble she could get in for this. She sighs. She can’t really argue -  doesn’t want to. She’s always been called boring. She doesn’t want to be anymore.

“I’m coming Jan, gimme five.”

She tugs on an oversized jacket and pulls a pair of gym shorts under her shirt, grabbing the running trainers from the bottom of her closet and spritzing a couple of squirts of sandalwood and shea from her almost empty perfume bottle. When she’s pretty sure she looks okay, she pushes up her window and thanks the gods she’s over the porch. It’s well structured and surprisingly easy to climb both up and down (her brother proved it to her last week) and she slides the window shut behind her as she shimmies down stained wood into the crisp summer night.

It’s not cold and the summer moon means it’s not dark either so she manages the walk quite calmly, feeling a freedom she sometimes forgets she has.

Jan’s sat on her porch steps in a pair of grey joggers and a black sports bra, draped in a tartan blanket and with what is unmistakably a bottle of wine gripped between her thighs.

They don’t actually talk for a while, just pass the bottle between themselves taking swigs of it like it’s water until Jan is giggling at a sparrow - the moon making her blonde hair glow in a way Jackie deems completely unfair. She’s ethereal, godlike in this light and Jan wants to tuck some of the escaped strands back behind her ear so she can watch the shadow in the curve of her upper lip.

She wants them to talk about boys, or talk about girls - to delve into who they are because surely that’s how you should spend wine time at two a.m but the wine is all gone and Jan’s cheek is soft on Jackie’s padded shoulder and somehow their fingers intertwine.  

She starts humming something under her breath, something old - a song her dad used to sing her to help her sleep and Jan tugs at her hand to make her sing it louder until Jackie is serenading the sleepy neighbourhood with Mama Cass.

She shakes Jan awake just after four as the sun rises down the wide street. Their knees are stiff but Jan stands up, tugging Jackie by the hands into a hug. She’s not sure what it’s for but it’s welcomed and when Jackie clambers back through her window she can smell vanilla.

You drape your wrists over the steering wheel

Pulses can drive from here

We might be hollow, but we’re brave

0 5 0 2 - 0 1 - 0 1 -2 0 1 0

She’s clad in a hoodie and leggings when she pulls up to the big house. The party she was at finished hours ago but she’s told Jan to text her if she needed her and apparently she needs her so she’d put the heating on full blast and grabbed a blanket out of the trunk to wrap the smaller girl in when she came out.

She watches as she walks carefully out of the house, feet bare and stiletto heels in her hands. Jan slides into the front seat quietly. She carefully drops the heels into the foot-well and puts an awful lot of effort into fastening her seat-belt just right until she looks up at Jackie and something snaps.

Her eyes are red and raw and her lipstick is smudged across her chin and she looks so tired Jackie wants to bundle her up, hold her close and never let her go. But she doesn’t.

She places one hand in her lap and drives calmly to an empty house down the road, pulling into the drive and turning the engine off.

Jan is gripping her hand like a lifeline, clammy fingers twisted around soft flesh. In the light of the streetlamp, there are scratched on Jan’s bare thighs and Jackie gulps on reflex - choking back something that could have been a retch if what she’s thinking is true.

She takes a second to compose herself, brushing through Jan’s hair with her free hand. “You okay baby?” She asks quiet and still - trying to keep the situation as tranquil as she can.

Jan takes a huge snotty inhale, broken by sobs, and shakes her head. She tries to speak but she isn’t breathing enough to form words and all that’s coming out is a choked whimper.

“Hey, Jan honey, you’re safe,” she murmurs, “look at me babe.” She repeats it until the blonde will look her in the eyes, her cerulean orbs pooling. “Can I touch you?” Jackie asks, her tone soothing, and Jan nods slowly.

Jackie places a cool hand on her shoulder and feels the sticky sweat against her dry skin. The smell of cheap vodka, beer and mens cologne is filling the car and it makes her feel sick. She’s not a partier or a massive drinker but by the smell alone she doesn’t understand the appeal. She moves quickly, whipping her head around as she remembers the water bottle she keeps in the door. She places it in Jan’s lap and gently coaxes her to take a sip.

After a little while longer Jan rolls her shoulders back and squeezes Jackie’s hand appreciatively. She nods to herself while trying to find her words and Jackie rubs slow circles on her back.

“It, it was twelve and everyone was cheering,“ she starts, slowly, methodically. "And he- he wanted a kiss, which was fine because everyone was kissing and I’d joked last week that I’d kiss him so it was okay,” She pauses, justifying things that don’t need justifying, setting off alarm bells in Jackie’s head to the point where she’s mentally screaming and the story hasn’t even begun.

“But then,” she continues after a sip of water, “at like three, he pulled me aside while Jaida and Gigi were dancing and asked me for a kiss and I said yes because it seemed like the right thing to do.” She’s got silent tears running down her face again and Jackie wants to tell her she doesn’t have to keep going but she’s frozen in place. “But then it, it took a while and he took my hand and he put it down his trousers and he started kissing down my neck.” The words aren’t given tone anymore. They’re cold hard statements of fact that are rattling through Jackie’s ribs, making her fight every urge she has to vomit because Jan’s become her best friend.

“And I didn’t want to do that. I didn’t like him like that and I just wanted a fun kiss. But he made me touch him and I didn’t want that at all.” Jan starts to shake so Jackie pulls the blanket back over her, Keeping one steadying hand on her knee - steadying for the both of them. “So I pulled away and he called me a whore and then I trapped myself in a bedroom and then I texted you and it was awful Jackie. It was terrible and the worst part was I just wanted you.” She sobs openly but the tears run clear now - the mascara washed off her face and she seems lighter and that’s all Jackie could ask for.

“You are so brave Jan,” Jackie says with as much confidence as she can muster. “You are so brave and that man is a coward and a dick if he thinks he can do that to a woman and you are the strongest person I know, don’t you forget that.” She leans her forehead on the side of the blonde’s head and sighs.

“I’m so sorry baby."

“Me too,” Jan murmurs. “Me too.”

I love these roads where the houses don’t change (and I like you)

2 2 5 6 - 0 5 - 2 2 - 2 0 1 0

“Oh God, Oh God, Oh God,” mutters Jackie, knees bouncing, clammy palms on the leather seats.

They’re racing down the empty street, lamps flickering as they pass. If it was any lighter, neighbourhood watch would have caught them out by now because this is almost certainly not within legal speed limits for the suburbs. Jan passes house after house as they try frantically to make it for Jackie’s eleven pm curfew, the wind low and whistling as it cuts the car. They know the stakes.

Jackie’s face has turned a pale shade of white in fear of the reaction she will face, scraping in just under the time agreed. How her mother will react to Jan driving the family car back home, kissing her gently on the cheek and walking two streets to her own home.

They pull up at ten fifty-nine and Jan almost bursts into tears.

“See you tomorrow?” She asks softly, wistfully.

“Yeah,” Jackie exhales, tomorrow.

Where we can talk like there’s something to say (and I like you)

2 3 5 8 - 1 2 - 3 1 - 2 0 1 0

Jan makes Jackie pull over when she notices the time. They’re both too drunk to be driving and too sober to be alone and they’ve got the windows down as the sea breeze tunnels through the car. It smells of sunsets and saltwater and ice cream sundaes and Jackie’s hair and Jan is hooked.

The old car clock ticks quietly above the hum of the engine and the barely-there sound of the waves and Jackie finds pleasure in watching Jan’s eyes fixate on the hand. It swings around, red against the clock face.

Jan catches her staring and her eyes burn blue into Jackie’s deep brown. It’s a cold night but they’ve both pulled the blankets from the back seat and suddenly the blonde is aware of how small the vehicle is because there is not enough room between their faces and-

Their lips touch. Spark. Flicker. Ignite.

And then she’s warm and intoxicated and just a little bit in love but she thinks the dopey smile suits her - heads lolled back on the headrests, hands intertwined.

I’m glad that we stopped kissing the tar on the highway (and I like you)

1 6 2 4 - 0 2 - 1 4 - 2 0 1 1

Jackie drives them to the beach at sunset. They sit in the boot of the car on a picnic blanket in a parking spot that overlooks the crashing waves and it’s an illusion of stillness Jackie struggles to find anywhere else.

They hold hands because no one can see them - drink a bottle of champagne stolen from Jan’s Mom’s wine fridge. The blonde is bundled up in Jackie’s chunky knit cardigan and she looks warm and cosy and just a little bit like home.

“Hold me,” Jan asks, with eyes like saucers and a tone rolling in sugar. Jackie blinks slowly - capturing the image of her girlfriend in this moment before reaching to pull her into her arms. They don’t have much room but Jan somehow manages to straddle her - a hand on each cheek as Jackie grips her hips. The brunette bites her own lip softly and suddenly their mouths are pressed together and she’s not sure if it’s the sea air, the girl or a little bit of both but it tastes like magic and she doesn’t ever want to let it go.

“I love you,” she exhales into her hair - just above her ear.

“I love you more,” Jan whispers onto her collarbone.

“Sure Jan,” Jackie giggles, pulling Jan closer, burying her face into her hair. “Happy Valentine’s day baby.”

We move in the tree streets

0 8 3 5 - 0 8 - 2 8 - 2 0 1 1

“We’re only gonna be four hours away,” Jan mumbles, fingers finding Jackie’s with ease. “Why does that feel like the whole universe?”

They’re sat on Jan’s front steps - she has to leave in an hour if she’s going to make it to NYU for move-in but she’s not quite sure how to put one foot in front of another. Her life is packed up in boxes behind her but her world is holding her hand.

“Four hours baby. That’s all,” Jackie coaxes, “we can do it.” She says it with so much confidence but her bottom lip is trembling frantically. She got a place at Penn State and she’s happy. It’s what she wants -  to be away from her family - to grow. Unfortunately that means being away from Jan too.

“Will we make it?” Jan asks - and it’s so earnest it breaks Jackie’s heart.  

“Yes.” Jackie says. And this time her lip is still.

I’d like it if you stayed.

#rpdr fanfiction #jackie cox #jan sport #jankie #lesbian au #coming of age #song fic #fluff #s12 #pinkgrapefruit #tw noncon with unnamed side character #tw mild panic attack #still fluffy though #jackie comes from a strict household #jan reads shakespeare #hi i hate trying to make sense of your fucking tags. -v

[drawing-way-outside-the-lines]

Niyol Chee. *Supporting Character

Voice Claim: (Adam Beach) https://youtu.be/JntZkGsH2Cc?t=5

Partner(s): Single Parents: No longer living. Kids: None. Siblings: None. Age: Not specified/he’s a several-100-years old ghost. Birthday: April 7th. Height: 175cm Body type: Slim but toned. Eye color: Warm dark brown. Classification: Ghost. Known powers: Taking on human shape, Levitation, summoning, healing, Shaman powers, Astral projection (Astral projection (or astral travel) is a term used in esotericism to describe an intentional out-of-body experience (OBE) that assumes the existence of a soul or consciousness called an "astral body" that is separate from the physical body and capable of traveling outside it throughout the universe.) shape shifting to a falcon, coyote, bison, and a horse.

About: ~ Calm, fair, logical, objective, intelligent, respectful, considerate, disciplined, protective, gentle, tolerant, patient, confidential, neutral, quiet, pensive, reserved, balanced, kind, practical, principled, independent, clear-headed, contemplative, loyal, honest, caring, adaptable, modest,  selfless, courageous, helpful, understanding, neat,  and wise. ~ Native American. ~ Pansexual. ~ Has long thick black hair. ~ Always wears a feather in his left ear, it was given to him by his late wife. ~ Lost his wife and only child, a 6 year old girl, when they got murdered by a gang of savage people, who later killed Niyol after he had watched them have their way with his little family, and left them bleeding to death. ~ Doesn’t talk much. ~ Very close friend of Sam, and sort of a mentor to him, when Sam was a teen.  ~ Quick with a bow and arrow. ~ Skilled at horseback riding. ~ A good cook. ~ Spends most of his time in nature. ~ Will forever be devoted to his wife and child. ~ Is very skilled at carving wood. ~ Enjoys reading and talking with his ancestors. ~ Smells like Desert wind and sweet plums. ~ Prefers not to think about the past, but is sometimes still haunted by nightmares. ~ Would never let down a person in the need of help. ~ Doesn’t like big corporations. ~ Knows that change starts with oneself. ~ Dislikes littering. ~ Loves his wife and kid, nature, specially the desert he grew up in, animals, solitude, cactus flowers, bonfires, shapeshifting, water, reading, watching the stars, herbs, Iceland cause the rough rocky nature and lack of tress reminds him of desert life and he finds great beauty and tranquility in it, quietness, walking barefoot in nature and soft blankets. ~ Likes to hum soft melodies. ~ Is rarely around, but if you need him and reach out, he will be there no matter what. ~ Dresses mostly casual, sometimes with a bit on a ‘Native American flair’. He sometimes wears a bit more ‘casual-formal’ clothes after he landed himself a model job, simply to try to keep up with modern ways, not because he finds much interest in it. But he knows the best way to keep from drowning, is to go with the flow. ~ Is extremely good at reading people. Niyol’s tag Niyol’s house/home Niyol’s moodboard Handwriting/ask answer pic:

One Gif to describe him:

One song to describe him: Flora Cash - You're Somebody Else Personal play list: 1. Native American Flute | Birds | sounds nature 2. Redemption Song | Playing For Change | Song Around The World 3. Guantanamera | Playing For Change | Song Around The World 4. La Bamba | Playing For Change | Song Around The World 5. Jack Johnson, John Cruz & Friends - Little Bit Of Love 6. City of the Sun - Second Sun 7. Eivør - Mín Móðir   

#Niyol Chee #Native American #ghost #ts3 #sims3 #sims 3 #simblr #simographysup