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unseededtoast · 29 days

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Shadow of Obsession | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Part One

Series summary: In which you find that love is an obsession that can quickly spiral out of control.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!

a/n: trying out something new! I've wanted to make a series for a long time and finally decided to just do it. I hope you all enjoy and buckle up for the ride:)

Part Two

He can try all he wants to keep me from her, but I'm the only one who will have her in the end.

Unknown POV

Rain drizzles down from the evening sky and the streetlights illuminate the puddles forming on the sidewalk. My shoes are soaked from the walk here; I had hoped to arrive sooner, so that I could get a better seat, but once again work kept me too late.

Trying to brush off the inconvenience I walk into the bar and immediately find who I'm looking for. My heart starts racing and I feel blood rush to my face. The bar is busy, crowded, warm, and loud. Taking a seat at one of the only open spots I order a drink and glance over at the woman I came here for. I knew she'd be here.

Her smile is bright and inviting, her eyes sparkle with the shine of a thousand stars. Her hair looks incredibly soft and sleek under the dim lights. The way she laughs is music to my ears, and the way her clothes cling to her curves is like a work of sacred art.

I take a sip of the cold beer and let my eyes wander over her body. My hand starts to tremble; the sight of her is other-worldly but I can't help but to imagine what her skin would feel like under my fingertips.

Before I know it, my glass is empty and I feel the slight buzz coursing through my veins. But I think I need just one more before I can approach her. I order another quickly, my eyes not wanting to stray from her captivating form for even a second. She's laughing with her friends, and oh, how I long to be one of them. And soon I will be, if things go according to plan.

The song playing changes and some of her coworkers, who double as friends, drag her to the floor to dance, though there's not much room to do so. She moves her body to the rhythm effortlessly, and I can't believe how she makes everything look so natural and easy. The light shines and illuminates the sheer layer of sweat on her chest, it almost makes me choke on my drink.

She starts dancing on one of her friends who cheers her on and it brings a smile to my face. She deserves to let loose and be happy. After all, she works too hard and isn't appreciated enough. Not by her team at least, but I do. I appreciate her more than they ever could. And soon she'll know that as well.

Unfortunately I'm not the only one who seems to notice her beauty. I see several eyes on her body as she moves, and it makes my blood boil. They have no right to look at her in such a lustful way. They couldn't appreciate and savor all she has to offer like I could. No, they couldn't. It would be impossible.

Feeling the courage from the alcohol and the adrenaline from my rage, I set my glass down on the table and wipe my mouth. She's still dancing and I know this is my chance. I straighten out my clothes and fix my hair before I start walking over to her.

She hasn't spotted me moving through the crowd, and with each step closer my heart pounds heavier and heavier with excitement. I've waited for this moment for so long.

Pushing past other patrons my steps become quicker and more urgent. I just can't wait any longer. She's right in front of me, not even twenty feet away.

But just before I break into her line of sight my steps cease in an instant. As the song comes to an end I watch as she laughs and throws her arms around a tall, slender man, who looks down at her with a wide smile.

I grit my teeth as I watch his hands settle on her waist. I notice the way his fingers linger, the way he looks at her with infatuation. He gets to work with her all day long, and yet he steals my chance? He's had years to make a move and hasn't, but just as I'm about to talk to her he decides to put his arms around her body?

He leans down and says something in her ear which makes her nod. They go back to their table and he grabs his belongings as well as hers, and then they say goodbye to their friends, who wish them a good night.

From the shadows of the crowd I watch as he leaves with her tucked under his arm, and her leaning into him. I watch as he takes keys from her bag and leads her to a car parked in the lot. He opens the passenger door for her to get in, and shuts it for her before he takes up the driver's seat.

Now outside on the sidewalk, I see them drive off into the rainy night. My fists seem to have clenched themselves into tight fists, my nails leaving crescent-shaped indents in my palms.

As I walk home the scene keeps replaying itself in my head. The way his hands touched her, the way he leaned down and talked to her. How she accepted his invitation and left with him. How happy she looked to be leaving the bar with him, and how she allowed him to touch her. The image of his fingers on her waist seems to burn itself into the backs of my eyelids.

And I know this night will continue to haunt me for a long time. But I won't give up on her, I can't and I won't. Once she sees how devoted I am to her, she will have to choice but to choose me.

Even if I have to get some people out of my way, I know that she will be mine soon.

- - - - -

The sun breaks through the window curtains and the morning birds chirp their songs that flow through the crisp air. It's a warm morning, and you're thankful your boss gave you permission to come in later today.

Stretching your limbs, you take a deep breath and savor the moment of peace. You don't get many quiet moments these days and so you take extra care to enjoy them while they last.

After looking out of the window from your bed for a few minutes, you roll over and grab your phone, wanting to thank Spencer for bringing you home last night. Quite honestly you had a few too many drinks, more than you were planning. But you knew you could count on Spencer to get you home safely, he always does.

Spencer has been one of your closest friends for years. Having started at the BAU around the same time, it was only natural that you two stuck together. And thankfully you two clicked, like two pieces of a puzzle.

You send him a quick good morning message before getting out of bed. On a lazy morning like this, you decide to make yourself breakfast instead of hastily grabbing whatever is in the pantry like you usually do.

After you make yourself some waffles and sit down you notice a sticky note on the table next to your car keys. Taking it in your hand, you read Spencer's scrawled message,

"Made sure to lock your door on my way out. Oh and I took a cookie from the counter as a thank you"

You smile at his silliness and let the note rest beside your plate. Spencer's been over to your apartment more times than you can count, sometimes it feels like he's a part-time resident here. You've joked around and told him you're going to start charging him rent, to which he just smiled about.

Eventually the clock turns to the next hour and you know that your peaceful morning has come to an end. Lazily, you put your plate in the sink and go get ready for the day. You don't put a lot of effort into your outfit as you know today will be a paperwork day.

Walking into the bullpen you realize that you're the last one in. Everyone else is already getting to work on their reports but you decide to stall for just a little bit longer and take a detour to the break room for a cup of coffee. Not that you need it, but you really don't want to fill out paperwork, it's your least favorite part of the job.

You pour the hot coffee into your favorite mug and spoon some sugar in when Derek walks in with a smirk on his face. And not his usual good morning smile, no, this one is a devious smirk.

"What?" You question him, curious as to what he's up to. He crosses his arms as you sip on the too-hot coffee.

"Someone left you some pretty flowers on your desk, who's your loverboy?" He asks and you about choke on your coffee.

"Someone left flowers on my desk?" You ask, surprised. Nobody has ever brought you flowers before. Derek nods and looks back towards your desk.

"Looks like it." He says and the two of you walk out to your desk together, curious to know who left these for you.

Sure enough, there's a bouquet of pink roses sitting on your desk in a beautiful glass vase. And judging from the size of arrangement, these flowers cost a pretty penny. Your eyebrows raise in surprise and you look for a card within the arrangement.

Hidden in the greenery is a small card and you pull it out carefully. Inside, your eyes read over the words a few times to try and make sense of who these could be from.

"Well, what does it say? Who is it from?" Derek impatiently asks. You show him the card and shrug,

"I have no idea." You answer as he reads the note aloud.

"Your brilliant mind deserves to be celebrated, there will be more of these to come." His smirk turns downward and his eyebrows furrow in confusion.

As you and Derek think about who these could be from, Spencer walks back to his desk which is situated just across from yours. He notices the two of you before his eyes settle on the flowers.

"Who are those from?" He asks, looking between you and Derek. With a sigh, you show him the card as well.

"No idea." You tell him, and he reads the note a few times over as well before studying the flowers. He bites on his lower lip as he thinks, and you hope his infinite knowledge will come in handy.

"Pink roses historically symbolize adoration and appreciation." He says confidently. His clue offers little to no insight about who could've done this.

Had the flowers been delivered without a note, you could've brushed it off as a simple, yet unexpected, gift. But the vague note seems odd. Something about it just doesn't feel right, the wording reminds you of not only a promise, but perhaps a veiled threat.

But maybe you're just overreacting. After all, it's in your nature to jump to the worst conclusion. Considering what you deal with on a daily basis, it's like a reflex to assume the worst.

Trying to ease your mind, you place the flowers to the side of your desk. You still want to admire them, but you just want to forget the odd note that accompanied them. Derek walks back off to his desk and you know you've procrastinated long enough. The file is already on your desk, it's just waiting for you to fill it out.

Recalling the last mission easily, you fill out the paperwork quickly, hoping to be done with it soon. You hate paperwork and you wish Hotch would've accepted your bribe; he would do your paperwork and you would pick up his dry cleaning. He turned you down and told you to quit being so dramatic about a little bit of paperwork and advised you to not try to bribe another team member. You knew he meant Spencer, and you knew it would be obvious if Spencer started filling out your reports. His are always detailed, while yours are not.

The day drags on slowly and you take several breaks throughout the day. You like having downtime, but at the same time you hate it. You want to be using your mind for something useful, and in between cases there's a lull that drives you just a little bit mad.

For lunch, you and Spencer decide to try the new deli down the road. It's a nice enough day, so the two of you decide to walk there and enjoy the fresh air. And as you wait for the elevator, a maintenance crew begins unloading. You knew they had been replacing cameras in the lower levels, but didn't know they were going to be moving up here. There are several men with ladders, tool boxes, and cameras that cause a flurry of momentary chaos.

One of the men bumps into you and you apologize, feeling like you're in the way when in reality they're the ones disrupting the status quo. Eventually, they all disperse into the office space and begin working, allowing you and Spencer to leave.

-----

"What are you plans for the weekend?" You ask Spencer as you take a bite of your sandwich. With no case, you decide you might as well try to plan something. Something noncommittal enough that if a case does come in it's no big deal to cancel, but something to look forward to if you stay in the area all weekend. He swallows and shrugs his shoulders,

"I didn't really have any plans. I guess I might rearrange my bookshelves or something." He takes another bite, looking absolutely in love with his sandwich.

"As fun as that sounds, how about you come over and help me put up some curtains. I don't feel like getting the stepladder out. I'll pay you by making dinner." You say, knowing that he will more than likely accept. The two of you always end up spending some time together if you have a free weekend. Spencer takes a drink and looks as if he's deep in thought before sighing,

"You drive a hard bargain, I'll do it. Oh, and can you please make those brownies? The ones with the chocolate chips?" He asks, eyes lighting up at the thought of your brownies. The man has a sugar addiction and it's one that you always end up feeding into.

"But I just made you cookies." You say, remembering the one he took from the counter last night.

"Okay?" He asks as if you just made the most ridiculous statement he's ever heard. You wipe your hands on your napkin and shake your head,

"You know it wouldn't be the end of the world if you tried a vegetable once." You tease him. He feigns insult before throwing the argument right back at you,

"And it wouldn't be the end of the world if you made some brownies." He's got a humorous glint in his eye that you know you won't be able to resist. With a resigned sigh you finish your drink.

"I guess I could make some brownies." You give in, just like you always do. It's rare that you ever deny Spencer something, you've got a soft spot for him. If it were any of your other teammates you don't think you'd have an issue telling them no, but for Spencer, you always seem to crumble.

The two of you finish lunch quickly and get back to the office, hoping the others don't notice how you went over your allotted lunch hour. You and Spencer walk side by side, bumping into each other every few steps. His hair blows in the wind and it reminds you to ask him if he wants a haircut sometime this weekend.

When you get back to the office the camera installers are still there, some working right near your desk. And you take it as a sign to turn your report in to Hotch, who's hunched over his desk reading over someone else's report. He looks up as you walk in and thanks you for your report.

"Did you do it yourself?" He asks, but you can sense the humorous undertone, one that you don't usually get from Hotch. Rolling your eyes with a smile, you ensure to him that you're the only one who wrote the report. And right as you go to walk out, an idea comes to your mind.

"So, is there a way to see who sent those flowers? It's just, I don't know it just seems really weird to me." You tell him, knowing that your worries are safe with Hotch. His eyebrows furrow before he speaks.

"Well, I would say check the cameras but I don't know if the footage would be there, considering they're replacing them. Go check with Garcia." He says and you nod, thanking him as you leave.

You head to Garcia's office to find that she's looking at shoes online. It seems the downtime gets to her as well. But when she sees you walk in, her face lights up.

"To what do I owe the honor?" She overplays, causing you to smile.

"I'm hoping you could help me out." You say and go to take a seat beside her in front of her numerous monitors.

"Your wish is my command." She says with a smirk.

"So these flowers showed up at my desk this morning and I just want to see who dropped them off is all." You tell her, concealing your concerns. If you know Penelope, you know that if you show your worries then she will not stop until she finds an answer, and you don't want to inconvenience her like that.

She spins in her chair and starts typing, bringing up some camera footage. You intently watch as she starts scrubbing through the footage, looking for anything helpful. Her eye is better trained than yours though, and she's able to fly through the footage of each camera in record time. And then she goes back through again.

"Sorry, it looks like they were replacing the cameras in the lobby from six this morning to just before noon." She turns to look at you, and you do your best to hide your disappointment.

"That's okay, thank you." You say, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. You were hoping she would have a workaround for this, but if there were no cameras in place, there's nothing she can work with.

"Of course. Sorry I couldn't find anything." She says, but you can tell she's holding back from saying what she really wants to.

"What is it? I know that look." You ask, curious as to what is going on inside her mind.

"It's just odd. You receive flowers on the day the camera footage is unavailable. But, I'm sure it's just a really weird coincidence." She offers a strained smile and your insides feel like they're being twisted around.

"Yeah, probably just one of those things." You try to brush it off, but as you walk back to the bullpen the situation begins to bother you even more.

-----

The smell of brownies drifts around your apartment as you wait for Spencer to arrive. You had made sure to make the brownies for him, just as he requested. And though you're tired from work, you felt it was necessary to make sure you do this for him seeing as how he's going to be hanging your curtains for you.

A knock at the door startles you out of your trance and you move to let Spencer in. He's changed from his work clothes and has a grin on his face as he walks through the door.

"I thought I smelled brownies." He says as he takes his shoes off. Spencer wastes no time in making himself comfortable in your home seeing as how your apartment is basically his second home.

"I knew I'd never get my curtains up if I didn't make them." You call over to him as he sits on your couch. He smiles and watches you pull the pan out of the oven. The edges look crispy, the middle gooey, and you know it's likely he'll eat all of them before the night is over.

Seeing them on the counter, Spencer gets up and rushes into the kitchen, where you have to smack his hand away from the hot pan.

"Spencer you're supposed to be a genius, why are you reaching for a pan that just came out of the oven?" You block his view of the brownies, knowing that he's likely to try again just out of pure childlike stubbornness.

"They smell so good." He peeks around you, getting a glimpse of the brownies behind your back.

"They do, but let them cool a little." You press against his chest, making him walk back a few steps. He gives up and sighs,

"Fine. Where are the curtains? I'll just get those out of the way." He says and looks around. You go and retrieve the curtain rod and the curtains and set them on your couch.

From the couch you watch as he works, appreciating his willingness to help you out. You had wanted these to go up for a while now, but never got around to it. And after receiving the mystery flowers, you wanted to put them up so you feel more secure at home. The window is facing the street and you know it's relatively easy to see inside. It would make you feel better if you could put something between you and the outside.

Spencer's lithe form works effortlessly and you find your eyes wandering across the broadness of his shoulders. In the years you've worked together, you can tell how he's filled out more, and you'd be a liar if you said it didn't suit him. You had first noticed how his button-ups starting becoming tighter around his biceps, and then it was how his pants seemed to hug his thighs.

As he turns around to grab another part, you're quick to avert your eyes. You feel your cheeks start to burn and you realize he may have very well saw you checking him out. Which you shouldn't be, he's your best friend after all.

"There, that should do it." He says after a few more minutes of working.

You stand from the couch and walk to stand beside him, appreciating the way that the curtains look. Not only are they practical, but they make the apartment feel more like home.

"They look great, thank you." You smile up at him, meeting his eyes. He licks his lips and holds your gaze for just a moment longer before he looks back to the kitchen. You know exactly what's on his mind and you sigh, finally giving in to him, just like you always do.

Later, you and Spencer are on the couch, watching tv. You've got your back against the armrest, feet resting in Spencer's lap. He's intensely watching whatever movie he put on while your mind wanders elsewhere.

For some reason, you're just not able to shake off the flowers. Spencer's words echo in your mind, the ones telling you that the flowers stand for adoration. Then you think about how they showed up on the very day the cameras are being replaced. It all seems just a little too convenient for you. And in your line of work, you know better than to believe in coincidences.

"What's up?" Spencer pauses the movie and it snaps you out of your thoughts. Your eyebrows raise and you feign ignorance.

"What do you mean?" You ask him. But you should know better. Spencer knows you like the back of his hand. He frowns and rests a hand on your leg.

"I can tell something's been bothering you tonight." He says and you keep your eyes trained on his hand. Biting the inside of your lip, you know he's got you pinned.

"It's nothing, I'm just being paranoid." You sigh and try to reach for the remote, but Spencer holds it out of your reach. He gives you a pointed look.

"I know it's not nothing, and you're not the paranoid type." He points out and for the moment you despise his eidetic memory.

"It's so stupid. It's just the thing with the flowers. You know Penelope couldn't find footage of who dropped them off because the cameras were being replaced?" You tell him, arching an eyebrow. He takes a moment to think, and then offers a solution, like he usually does.

"You can probably ask the front desk receptionist what she remembers." He says and you nod, knowing it's the only lead you have to work with.

"I'll do that Monday." You say and stand from the couch to close your new curtains, suddenly feeling too exposed.

As you go to close them, you think your eyes are playing tricks on you. You gasp and blink, but whatever you saw is gone. Spencer comes to stand beside you, looking out of the window.

"What is it?" You hear the concern in his voice. He must think you're going crazy. In fact, you think that you're going crazy. His arm finds its way over your shoulders and he tugs the curtains closed.

"I just thought I saw someone out there on the street. But there's nothing there." You say, voice sounding just slightly breathless. Spencer guides you away from the window and sits you back down on the couch. You can see his jaw is clenched and his eyebrows are drawn tightly together.

"Would it make you feel better if I stayed here tonight?" He asks, and you look over at him, breaking your gaze from the window.

"Spence, you don't have to stay here for my sake." You start to feel bad, you don't want him to pity you. He shakes his head.

"I don't mind at all." The sides of his mouth curl up into a smile, the same one that makes you melt.

"Only if you want to." You say, internally grateful he's willing to stay with you tonight.

-----

Unknown POV

I watch from the shadows as she pulls a pan out of the oven. Her apartment is lit up enough for me to be able to catch a glimpse of her beauty, and I watch with wide eyes every moment that's gifted to me. However, my excitement is dampened as I can't find the flowers anywhere. I was hoping she'd bring them home, so that a tiny piece of me could be there with her.

The moment is further tainted as soon as I see him step inside of her home. The same one from the bar. Anger courses through me as I watch them in the kitchen, as I see her move him with a hand on his chest. He shouldn't be able to feel her touch, he doesn't appreciate her the way I do.

Unable to move away I watch as he puts up some curtains for her. Thankfully they look sheer enough that it won't block all of my view. But still, they're more than I want. I've been able to keep an eye on her every night without them, and I hope they don't obscure my view too much.

My hands ball into tight fists as they sit on the couch with each other. He keeps looking over at her every few minutes, but it doesn't look like she notices. She looks distressed, there's a crease between her eyebrows. I should be there to put her worries at ease.

I readjust the binoculars to try and get an even closer look. But when I do, I see that they've moved. They're at the window and I see her look right at me. Quickly, I sidestep into the alleyway, where the darkness should hide me away. Hopefully she didn't see the glint of light off the binocular lenses.

Just before I leave, I see his hand on her shoulder, leading her away from the window. It's like he's purposefully keeping her from me. A smirk finds its way to my face and I'm bolstered with new resolve.

He can try all he wants to keep me from her, but I'm the only one who will have her in the end.

Part Two

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silentglassbreak · 3 months

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Anonymous

Noah Sebastian x OFC

I had the 2nd part in my head already, so I started writing it. This post may go up pretty darn quick. If you've read so far, THANK YOU. Again, if you like it, and want to be tagged, Just lemme know.

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, overall abuse, mild violence (ie. bar fights), smut, swearing, and altogether just a lot of fuckery.

+It goes without saying. This is a work of fiction. My words are mine. Plagiarism is a crime.

Part 2 - Running in Circles

Syd looked so much brighter today. It was refreshing. She had her makeup on, she was clear, like she had been sleeping and eating regularly. Sometimes, that in and of itself was the simplest of answers. It was the key some days.

She finished telling us about how she had put in sixteen applications at various employers since the last meeting, had been to the gym each day, and finally finished a 2000 piece puzzle she started three months ago. It was fabulous news, earning her a huge applause from everyone, including Noah, who I was halfway surprised to see again today. It had only been two days, but showing up again was a 50/50 shot with newcomers. Usually, if they made it to 5 meetings, they were in it for the long haul. I was extremely pleased.

He was also a lot different today, sitting back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest the majority of the meeting, but still more open than his last visit. Reading body language was crucial in this field, so I may have read a book or two on it in my spare time. His face also looked fuller, the dark circles now just shadows slightly casting his light skin and deep color eyes. He wore a white T-shirt with a red beanie, showing the tattoos off on his long arms.

His turn came rather quickly, and he sighed heavily when all eyes turned to him.

Before he could start, I chimed in. "Guys?" Everyone looked over to me. "Before Noah shares today, can we give him a huge round of applause for showing up to his second meeting?" This was met with fierce applause and a few hoots and hollers from our more spirited members.

"Great job!" Seth smiled brightly. Abel nodded his head pointedly.

"One of the hardest parts is coming back. Good for you, bud." I could see Noah's cheeks tinge pink, but he smiled, a smile bigger than I had seen so far. He was slightly embarrassed, but I could see his appreciation. Maybe even a sparkle of moisture in his eyes? He definitely pushed that down.

He reached behind his head nervously and chuckled shyly as the clapping died down.

"Thanks guys." He folded his hands in his lap, looking at the floor. "I was in the neighborhood, so..." He threw his hands up in a casual manner, causing some laughing from the group, including myself.

"How was the last few days for you?" I crossed my legs, eyes pointed in his direction. He didn't return my gaze.

"It was different. I haven't exactly talked to anyone about it." I only nodded. I wanted to encourage him to keep sharing, but I didn't want to pry too hard. "I don't know how to bring it up to anyone."

"That's fair. I think we all went through that."

He nodded, idly picking at his thumbnail. "I have a gig this weekend, and things usually get pretty wild after. I'm nervous." His eyes then looked up at me. I felt as though he was speaking directly to me, rather than to the group. Maybe he was?

Most people look around, avoid eye contact, and talk mostly just out loud. That's the purpose. Noah, however, was holding a conversation with me, and everyone else just happened to be within earshot. That was clear.

I would allow it, for now. If it eased him in, I was game for almost anything.

"Can I ask what kind of gig?" He sucked his teeth, a smirk creeping in.

"I'm in a band." I smiled now, because he was telling us (me) something personal.

"Oh nice! What do you play? Guitar?" His eyes snapped to Syd, who had chimed in. I could see this broke his concentration bubble, and I watched as his shoulders slightly drew in.

Although, he did not stop speaking. His tone did die down a little.

"I can play guitar, but in this band, I just sing." He cleared his throat, squirming slightly in his chair. "We were on tour earlier this year, and once it was over, I realized I needed help, so I'm hoping to make good progress before the next tour starts this fall. This gig is just opening for a bigger band."

"Must be some band." I added with a smile. This brought his attention back to me.

"What's it called?" Syd's voice was bouncy, breaking through the cool calm I had manufactured. I watched him almost visibly flinch.

"I'd rather not say." And with that, I could see he was done for today.

After the meeting, I caught Noah booking for the exit. I ran after him, donut in my hand.

"Hey Noah!" I caught him right before he slid into the driver's seat of his Navigator. "You didn't get a snack!"

He waved a hand at me. I still jogged up to his car. "I'm good Leena, thanks though." I sighed, stopping in front of him.

"Can we chat for a sec?" I saw him look down, likely questioning his decision to come back, but still shut his door and walked over to where I stood by the hood of the truck.

"What's up?"

"Did you get a chance to find a sponsor?" His beanie was pulled down low toward his eyes. He avoided my gaze.

"Yeah, uh, I actually didn't. Turns out everyone I know is into drinking, and I don't think that'll change anytime soon." I nodded knowingly.

"We've got great sponsors here, you know? Abel is a great resource, so is Rodger. They've both been in active recovery for more than five years." He narrowed his eyes, visibly stressed by the conversation.

"Yeah, I uh...don't really know them very well."

I couldn't tell you what possessed me to say what I did next, whether it was empathy, the sugar high from the donuts, the caffeine, or something else entirely, but I still opened my mouth.

"Do you want me to be your sponsor?" I watched his eyes widen at that, his head snapping to me quickly.

"You'd do that? You don't even know me."

I smiled my bright smile, and nodded. "Absolutely, at least until you can find another or get comfortable with one of the other members. I don't mind at all."

For the first time since we'd met, which wasn't long ago, admittedly, I saw a smile touch his eyes. Something told me that Noah hadn't seen genuine human kindness in a while.

"I mean, only if you want to. Maybe just to get me to the meeting next week?" I nodded.

"Of course. Happy to." He looked around, watching the people trickle out of the building around us and waved at Seth, who smiled at him before getting in his car.

"I do think we should take some time to work out a plan for your gig. These first few weeks in recovery are crucial."

He leaned against his car, chewing his lip. "You think so?"

I handed him the donut. He skeptically accepted it, and took a small bite.

"How long has it been?" He looked down then, a sign of shame.

"Five days." I nodded.

"And when is your gig?"

"Tomorrow night." I shrugged. I had work to do.

"You busy tonight?"

Noah sat back in the booth, sighing heavily, his plate clear. I continued shoveling pasta into my mouth, the carbs and the donuts being my only food sources today. Work had, once again, been hectic. I could see him looking around the restaurant, people watching.

Without warning, he leaned over the table. "You know, my girlfriend would kill me if she knew I was at dinner with another woman."

His statement gave me pause for a moment. Girlfriend. I hadn't even considered that. Ignoring the small, sinking feeling in my gut, I slurped my noodle and felt a twinge of guilt. I had no interest in getting him in trouble.

He must have seen the look on my face, because he smiled then. "I didn't tell her. It's no big deal, really."

I wiped my mouth on my napkin and swallowed a large gulp of water.

"Does she know you've started coming to AA?" He shook his head feverishly.

"No, not yet." This made me furrow my brow, suspicious.

"Where does she think you are, then?"

He leaned back, perusing. "Probably figures I'm out with the guys, shitfaced already."

It took me a second to realize, I didn't know a lot about Noah. I had no idea who the man was that I just shared a meal with, agreed to be his sponsor, and unknowingly risked his relationship.

"You know, if we're going to be working on your recovery, there's some things we may need to know about each other." He signaled the waiter.

"Like?"

"Well, for one," I smiled at the waiter as Noah politely asked for a dessert menu. Then, keeping my voice low, I leaned over the table. "I don't even know your last name."

I caught the way his eyes drifted over me, my chest now slightly exposed at this angle, my black hair flowing over my shoulder.

"You don't?" He seemed unfazed, but I did catch the bob of the bulge on his throat when he dry swallowed. I leaned back. This was not the game to play.

"No." I laughed. "You always sign in as 'Noah S.' What does the S stand for? Skynard?" This made him laugh loudly.

Through his chuckles, he choked out "Sebastian." He caught his breath. "My last name is Sebastian."

I nodded, satisfied with that. It was enough to Google if I felt so inclined.

"And you?" This made me stop for a second mid-bite.

"What about me?"

"Is your name just Leena? Like Cher?" This made me drop my fork, a hard laugh echoing between us from my chest. I saw his amused smile, which almost embarrassed me.

"Mileena. Mileena Richards."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Like, from Mortal Kombat?"

I nodded proudly. "Same spelling, different origin."

"That's fucking cool."

The waiter then came back, a large slice of multi-layered chocolate cake covered in a hot chocolate sauce set down on the table, two large scoops of vanilla ice cream and two spoons set down on the plate with it.

"Wow."

Noah shrugged sheepishly. "I heard sugar helps with the cravings."

We walked out of the restaurant, the night nice and chilly in the February air. We stood between our trucks, full and exhausted.

"So, we didn't come up with a game plan."

I nodded, leaning my head back on the door of my Tahoe. "I'm sorry. I was starving."

He returned it with a rub of his stomach. "Same. It's fine."

"You said in group that the usual thing is to go out and party after the show, right?" He nodded. "What's the chance of just heading home afterwards? Claiming you're tired?"

"Slim. We have the show. Then meet and greet. Then we all typically hang out in the green room. Do some shots. Then hit a bar." I watched his face downturn, as if he was admitting to a crime.

"Okay. And being in a bar is a big no no for right now." He sighed, covering his face with his hands.

"I'm not ready to tell them." I reached over, putting a hand on his shoulder. I felt his body slightly lean into the affection, only for a second.

"That's okay, Noah. We can make it work." I wracked my brain for ideas, but was sincerely lost for ideas. "Can you tell them you don't feel well?"

He put his hands down and leaned back against the door, looking defeated. "Maybe? It would need to be a pretty good disease to get me out of the after party."

This made me smirk. "You ever had the stomach flu?"

This made him chuckle. "You want me to vomit onstage?!" He feigned shock and disgust.

I laughed. "No, it doesn't need to be that dramatic. After the meet and greet, you just tell everyone you have to use the restroom, spend way too long in it, and then tell them you need to go home. Pull at the skin on your face a little, make yourself look flush. Make sure you're sweaty."

"That's a given after a show."

"You never did tell me the name of your band."

He smiled wickedly. "It's probably not your vibe?"

I lifted my chin proudly. "Try me."

"Metalcore?"

"Architects? Falling in Reverse? Ice Nine Kills? Bring Me The Horizon?" I began listing them on my fingers.

He pointed at the name of the last band. "We're touring with them some time next year."

My jaw dropped. "You've met Oli Sykes?!"

He shook his head. "Not yet, but I hear he's a really cool dude."

"Noah, how big is this band you're in?"

"Not too big, just me and three other guys."

I rolled my eyes. "Not what I meant." He laughed then, acknowledging his smartass.

"Maybe you should come tomorrow?" This took me back. The idea hadn't even crossed my mind.

"Seriously?"

His tone became excited. "Yeah! Why not? You can make sure I get out of there afterward, you can see us play, too. Maybe you'll hear something you recognize."

"Maybe I'd know if you just told me the name of the band." He laughed again, but my amusement was fading.

"C'mon, you can be my getaway driver."

"How am I going to get in, when your band is apparently a pretty big deal? I bet there aren't even tickets left."

He shook his head. "Nah, I can get you a VIP suite. So you don't have to do the mosh pits and all that."

This started to sound not so terrible after all. It had been a while since I had gone to a good rock concert. Life had been so busy.

"Can I bring a friend?" He smirked.

"Boyfriend?"

For whatever reason, I felt the inherent need to deny this immediately. "Nope. But I have a best friend who is really into metal. She just saw Bad Omens a few months ago."

His eyebrows rose, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Oh, definitely bring her. If she's into that, she may like us."

I nodded. "Alright. Where is it?" He pulled his phone out and unlocked it, swiping away multiple text notifications before opening a fresh contact and handing it to me.

"Put in your number. I'll text you all the details in the morning, when I get them." I nodded and added myself in under Leena H. He nodded in satisfaction.

Then came this sudden awkward silence. I could tell he didn't know what to do next. Handshake? Hug? Salute?

This made me chuckle, when I turned and opened my car door.

"Goodnight, Noah. See you tomorrow." I got a sheepish wave in return.

Back at home, after a much needed shower and settled into my bed, I pulled out my laptop.

My curiosity was too strong now. Who was this band?

My Google search took less than a second to load.

Noah Sebastian: Lead Singer of Bad Omens.

I stared at my screen for a long time. I wasn't reading this correctly was I? There it was, in black and white on my screen. It was a joke, right? Noah wasn't...he couldn't be...right?

But there it was, his photograph plastered on my screen. That was definitely in technicolor.

I didn't know much by Bad Omens, but I knew their song Just Pretend. It was one of the most played in my shower, on my drives to work. It was one of those songs that resonated with you. I heard it first on TikTok, and was hooked on that verse. That voice.

No fucking way.

I pulled out my phone, completely ignoring the fact that it was clear after midnight by now.

Me: YOU'RE THE LEAD SINGER OF BAD OMENS????

It took about three minutes, in which I was absolutely not staring at the screen the entire time, before I saw the typing bubble.

Noah: LOL Bad Omens? Never heard of them.

This motherfucker.

Me: Noah! Why didn't you say something?!

Noah: I don't get to have fun once in a while? Wow. AA's kind of a bummer.

Me: Laura's going to lose her shit.

Noah: That'll be fun for you. Talk to you tomorrow!

With that, the conversation was over. I chucked my phone to the foot of the bed, stunning a curious glance from my hound Angel. I petted a silent apology on his head and he laid back down.

What the fuck. What the fuck?!

I'm sponsoring a fucking rockstar.

#noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens #fanfic

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 months

Text

Snake Eyes 4

Warnings: noncon, coercion, manipulation. Proceed with caution.

Note: thanks all for reading and I hope you’re excited for this one. All feedback is more than welcome and loved and appreciated. Reblogs are most helpful.

Part of The Club AU

“You’re disgusting,” you say and step away from the shelves, “it’s not worth–”

He catches your arm as you try to skirt around him. You spin to face him and tug on his grip. It’s firm and unrelenting. He smirks as his other hand comes up behind your neck and he forces you close.

“That’s too bad, you could’ve walked out with a good take,” he pinches the muscle along your neck, “as it were, I’m not in the habit of paying for it.”

“Get off of me–”

“Shh, it’s easier if you just go along. Don’t work too hard,” he slithers.

You lash out with your other hand, barely missing his cheek with your nails as he tilts away from your reach. You grunt and throw your fist against his shoulder but the impact is lessened as he squeezes your neck harder. An electric pain zips down your back and you cry out.

“Darling, you think a bit higher of yourself than you should,” he snickers as he turns and walks you backwards, “the number of women I’ve had through these doors, they know when to shut up and take it. They’re wise enough at least to be flattered–”

“You’re gross, get off me–” you whimper as his nails dig into the tendons of your neck. His other hand is on his belt, the buckle clinking loudly.

“Mm, maybe, but I’ve enough money to make up for that,” he winks and you sneer in revulsion.

He leans in, close. His green eyes sparkle as they fall to the grimace that curls your lips. His tongue pokes out as heat radiates across your cheeks and chest, a storm of mortification and rage. He keeps his hand on his belt. What the fuck is he doing?

“Well, you’ve made your choice, you may walk out empty-handed,” his lips almost brush yours as he speaks, “oh, you will regret that you did not take any benefit from this.”

“I won’t regret shit,” you snarl as you feel his grip loosen and shove him away, “I quit. I’m done with this nest of scum.”

He lets you go and takes a step back. You shove him again, harder and turn on your heel. You clutch your hands into fists and march away, shaking with the surge of adrenaline. The weight of his touch remains heavy along your neck.

Another job gone. You bluster out of the backroom without looking back, his rolling chuckle following you out. Your vision pinpoints and you sense a shadow along the edge but you don’t look over. You’re humiliated enough, you don’t need to see the witnesses.

You pass by the bar as the lights of the bar glare down at you and music pumps, echoing the anger pounding behind your temples. You can’t believe this shit. He’s not the first creep you’ve encountered in the business but dammit if it isn’t exhausting.

“Hey, where–” Thor calls after you.

“I quit,” you bark over your shoulder, “you can thank your brother.”

You don’t hesitate, you don’t look back. Good riddance. You worked at dives less shady than this painted up cesspool.

🐍

Sleep is fleeting. Even after two shots of rum, you can muster more than a morsel here and there, drifting off only to wake in a fit of anxiety. You hate the job search. It’s torture. Putting on a smile when all that should matter is that you know how to mix a goddamn drink.

You relent and wake up. A strong coffee to start your day of defeat. Scrolling the postings is like dredging a swamp for gold. As much as you longed for time off, this wasn’t what you had in mind.

You apply to several of the franchises. Your time at Applebee’s wasn’t awful but the tips were shit. A few upscale places you could never manage an interview at. And out of desperation, a private posting for an event. It wouldn’t be for the long-run but it would get some cash in hand while you wait for something more stable.

You log off before noon. You should try to sleep. You lay down, a bit calmer now that you’ve done a bit of footwork. You pull a pillow over your head. You brush your neck with your fingertips and shudder. Tender bruises dabble across your skin and tinge as you touch them. Asshole.

You wake up around six. Your phone is filled with useless notifications. Not even a call from work. Well, you don’t want to hear from them unless it’s about your final check. Amid the automatic notifications about your applications, there is a single response. Oddly fast but you won’t complain.

It’s from the event host. Seeing as the occasion is only a week on the horizon, you guess it’s not unforeseen. The message is straight to the point.

‘Hello,

Thank you for your application. Upon review of your credentials, we would be interested in discussing this position further with you. Please let us know the best time to arrange an interview.

Best Regards, Sif’

You mull on the offer. It is a bit sudden, not entirely transparent. You’ve been to some strange job interviews. You remember that boat you worked on for a whole two hours and snuck off before it disembarked.

There is only the description of the event. ‘A private event for wealthy investors’. Corporate, those always go over well and companies do tend to dole out a healthy bonus. What the hell? Beggars, chooser, all that shit.

#loki #dark loki #loki x reader #dark!loki #drabble #au #series #the club #snake eyes #avengers #mcu #marvel #thor

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snowmist-hashira · 10 months

Text

[Chapter title: Rainy Embrace]

Muichiro Tokitou x Reader

Wattpad: (One shots) Tokito Muichiro x Reader Archive: Kimetsu No Yaiba: Tokitou Muichiro x Reader Master list:♠ Information ♠

Artist link: https://weibo.com/u/6111459834

I am open to requests for Muichiro x Reader content, and I also enjoy engaging in roleplays. If you're interested in either, please feel free to check out my pinned post for more information. ~ ♠

I already had this one uploaded in my other platforms and I decided to upload it here, considering I haven't done the pending requests yet. Here's a quick one shot on a rainy season~

As you sat on the cold floor, the sound of raindrops tapping against the window created a soothing melody. The coldness of the floor beneath you seemed to fade away, replaced by a sense of comfort and serenity. You embraced the coolness as a welcome contrast to the warmth of your thoughts.

The soft pitter-patter mixed with occasional thunder created a symphony of nature's elements. You felt a sense of tranquility wash over you, as if the rain had a calming effect on your soul.

Gray clouds stretched across the sky, casting a shadow over the landscape, creating an atmosphere reminiscent of dusk. The diffused sunlight filtered through the darkened clouds, casting a gentle, muted glow on the world outside. The rain made everything appear fresh and vibrant, as if it were breathing life into the surroundings.

You let your gaze wander, observing the raindrops as they slid down the glass, leaving streaks in their wake. The window had fogged up, adding a touch of mystery to the scene outside. It felt as though you were watching the world from a hidden sanctuary, a place where time seemed to stand still.

Turning to your side, you were pleasantly surprised to see Muichiro standing beside you, his presence bringing a sense of warmth to the already cozy atmosphere. He held out a mug, and as soon as you caught a whiff of the familiar aroma, you knew it was your favorite hot chocolate for rainy seasons.

A smile spread across your face as you accepted the mug from Muichiro's hands. The warmth emanating from the ceramic vessel seeped into your cold fingertips, instantly providing a comforting contrast to the shivering temperature of the room. You cradled the mug in your hands, feeling its heat radiating through your palms.

As you brought the mug closer to your mouth, you couldn't help but inhale deeply, savoring the sweet and rich aroma of the hot chocolate. Muichiro had paid attention to your preferences, knowing exactly what drink would bring you comfort on a rainy day. The scent alone seemed to lift your spirits, filling the air with a delightful sweetness.

You blew gently on the steaming liquid, watching wisps of steam rise and disappear into the air. The warmth of the mug traveled up your hands and spread throughout your body, chasing away any lingering traces of coldness. The anticipation built within you as you prepared to take your first sip, knowing that the velvety smoothness and decadent flavor of the hot chocolate would envelop your senses.

Muichiro observed you with concern, his gaze filled with care and affection. "Aren't you cold on the floor?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine worry. He wanted to ensure your comfort, even in the midst of your serene moment.

You shook your head, a contented smile playing on your lips. "Not at all," you reassured him, your voice soft and filled with gratitude.

You glanced up at Muichiro, a sparkle of appreciation in your eyes. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice filled with warmth.

With the mug still cradled in your hands, you took a careful sip, allowing the velvety liquid to envelop your taste buds. The familiar taste of rich chocolate mingled with a hint of sweetness, bringing a sense of indulgence and satisfaction.

“Do you want a blanket?” Muichiro asked taking the nearby folded blanket, you nodded eagerly, appreciating his thoughtfulness and wanting to further enhance the cozy atmosphere.

Then, unexpectedly, Muichiro's gaze lingered on you for a moment, his expression appearing slightly contemplative. It made you curious, causing you to tilt your head in a mannerism you had picked up from him. You wondered what might be going through his mind, but before you could voice your confusion, he shifted his attention back to the blanket.

Assuming that Muichiro would keep the blanket for himself, you were pleasantly surprised when he unselfishly wrapped it around your back, adjusting it to ensure your comfort. His actions reflected his caring nature and his desire to make you feel warm and cozy.

“How about you?” You asked to which Muichiro didn't reply verbally. Instead, he moved to sit behind you, encircling your waist with his arms, pulling you into a comforting embrace. You could feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest against your back, a soothing rhythm that synchronized with the peaceful ambiance of the rainy scene.

As you leaned back into his embrace, you felt a sense of security and serenity. His presence wrapped around you, providing a shield against the outside world. The rhythmic sound of raindrops on the windowpane and the soothing ambiance of the room seemed to harmonize with the beating of your heart.

A gentle blush spread across your cheeks, tinting them a soft pink. The way he pulled you closer, with his neck gently resting atop your head, created a cozy and intimate atmosphere that sent a warm flutter through your heart.

You felt the tender brush of his lips against the crown of your head, his affectionate gesture causing a radiant smile to grace your lips. The soft sensation of his kiss, combined with the comforting embrace, created a moment of pure bliss. It was as if his affectionate act had the power to brighten not just your cheeks, but your entire being.

“I don’t need a blanket. I have you.” The words he spoke filled your heart with warmth and joy, his simple statement carried profound meaning, emphasizing the depth of his feelings.

Your cheeks retained their rosy hue, you turned your head slightly, snuggling deeper into Muichiro's embrace. You whispered softly, your voice filled with love and gratitude, "And I have you too. That's all I need."

Time seemed to stand still as you embraced the serenity of the moment, cherishing the connection you shared with Muichiro. In his arms, you found peace, contentment, and a love that made every rainy day feel like a treasure.

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softagenda · 10 months

Text

drunken dance (ais)

ais x reader(f) (mature)

alternate universe / dancer!mc / assassin au

originally posted on ao3

masterlist

Preview

His gaze soon returned to the prima, inspecting her with fresh eyes.

She was panting slightly, her face turned upward as her arms slowly dropped to her sides. Gold magic continued to exude from them, the fine mist now cloying and viscous, drooling from her veins like honey.

The prima then glanced up, searching for a moment before finding him in the crowd. She held his gaze for a moment, a flicker of something sharp awakening in those pretty eyes.

Ais tilted his head back, his mouth curling.

Interesting.

_________________________________________

The Red Banquet ebbed and flowed around you in a roiling, scarlet ocean of silk and sound.

You watched over the early embers of the party as Eridia’s elite mingled, sparkling jewelry swinging as they danced, laughed, sneered, and drank themselves to oblivion. Soon the ceremonial dance would begin, and you would be called to the stage - for now you hid in the shadows and explored the palatial inner sanctum of the temple.

“The night’s still young, yet some are already getting sloppy.”

You glanced over your shoulder as Mhin approached, slinking through the shadows of the wall until they had reached your side.

They were already dressed for the dance, in the ensemble that the troupe leader had painstakingly chosen for the occasion: the silk top hooked around their neck in a glittering chain of pearls, descending in a shimmering garnet swath to a matching band across the hem wrapped above their waist, the tiny beads bouncing against bare, pale skin. Two gossamer shawls hung from their arms, cinched at the shoulder, a golden cuff around the bicep, then once more at the wrist. Trousers of the same fabric billowed down their legs to golden anklets that sparkled and chimed with tiny bells.

Mhin moved silent as a ghost despite the jewelry dappled across their frame. A veil of silk hung across his nose and mouth, masking his expression.

“The more, the better,” you said. Drunk people were easier to manipulate.

They braced themselves on the banister, lilac eyes trailing over the crowd. “I always knew their kind never gave a fuck about the common folk, but this is… beyond even my imagination.” Their eyes narrowed on the massive fountains of white wine, tables full of enough fine food to feed ten times the guests present. “Throwing a party, wasting so much money and food, while hordes of Soulless terrorize the villages. Disgusting.”

You crossed your arms and leaned your hip against the pillar. “We’ll have to remember to circle back round to the kitchens after…” you trailed off, sharing a look. “With Leander’s help, we can haul back some of the food for the kids.”

Though the mask hid their expression, you could tell exactly how Mhin felt at the idea of eating the noble’s leftovers - in a word, homicidal - but the thought of Fenrir, Silvia, and the other troupe children stalled that infamously sharp tongue.

“They would certainly appreciate it more than this lot,” Mhin scoffed. “I doubt a single one of these prissy noblewomen will eat much, even as their pig partners gorge themselves.”

Hoping to lighten the mood, you nudged them with your foot and smiled when they met your gaze. “Silvia would be beside herself at that mountain of fruit.”

The corners of their eyes crinkled as a reluctant smile likely formed beneath the veil. “Huxtly would stick his whole head in the chocolate fountain. Make himself sick, probably.”

“Fenrir could eat a whole one of those pheasants by himself.”

“If he could snag one before Yulia devoured them all.”

Grinning, you pushed off from the pillar and leaned on the banister next to them, your shoulders bumping. For a moment, you both enjoyed the idea, the banquet and all its glamor falling away amidst this pocket of peace. Your heart lurched wistfully in your chest.

“Soon.” At their sideways glance, you continued in a hushed tone, “Soon we’ll be able to give them that. To see the look on their faces, when they have so much food they can’t possibly eat it all.”

Mhin stared for a long moment, before they sighed. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. One wrong move, and our heads will stand on pikes outside the temple gates.”

You frowned. “We’ve swam through far more dangerous waters than this,” you said with a nod toward the party.

“Don’t be flippant. Monsters roam these halls, the likes of which we’ve never seen.” Their hand reached out and grabbed your wrist, their words a fervent whisper. “Don’t trust anyone. Never let your guard down.

You huffed and stood up, tugging your wrist back. “This isn’t my first performance, Mhin. Don’t you trust me to handle this?”

“You, I trust. Them… him ….” They shot a seering glare at the stage. An empty throne sat in prime of place, a behemoth crafted from snow white, glittering Abaranth silver. A priceless treasure, bought with the brutal culling of the Abaranth people. Mhin’s people. “Never.”

Seething hate burned in their eyes - an enmity born of extraordinary suffering and loss. They had never spoken in detail about the massacre of his village, but you had noticed the remnants of that pain all the time: in the way he gripped his dagger in his sleep, the way he flinched at a campfire that flamed too high, the viciously protective way he guarded you and the troupe members, especially the children.

You looked over the party again.

These people had rejoiced. They had clothed themselves in jewelry hewn from that purest silver and danced on the mountains of corpses they had wrought to attain it. Thousands killed to slake that insatiable lust.

All of it made possible by the god of this temple.

The Vessel of the Seaspring and his army of Soulless.

“I’ll be careful,” you reassure them softly, your gaze on that empty throne. Determination to see this through burned white hot in your chest. You would succeed. And with this victory, the futures of so many would be saved.

Spurred by that thought, you glanced at the entrance of the hall and immediately caught the eye of a man lingering in the doorway, his arms folded over his thick chest. Leander’s mouth lifted into a smile, his chin jerking toward the interior.

“Looks like it’s time to get dressed,” you murmured before rising and heading toward the staircase. After a moment, you felt the shift in air as Mhin caught up and walked at your side, their arm brushing against yours.

_____________________________________

Ais hated shit like this.

When he reluctantly strode out of the shrine gate and took his place on the thick cushions of the throne, the crowd of nobles cheered and toasted their glasses, spilling wine onto the floor. They didn’t seem bothered at all by his lack of response, too caught up in the drunken revelry to care if he watched them all with utmost apathy.

With a pointed look at his man by the door, Ais enacted his plan to hurry along the events of the night and return to his rooms to laze about in solitude. Well, mostly solitude - he’d probably invite Princess to join him, maybe one of the dancers if they excited him.

Much as he’d like to, Ais couldn’t abstain from the entire banquet altogether - Ocudeus demanded his due from the horde of bloodthirsty humans - but he could decide how long and when. He figured, if he came for the dancing and ceremonial offerings, he’d at least be somewhat entertained and fed well.

Then, he could leave and sink into oblivion once more.

Chin propped on his palm, one leg thrown over the arm rest of the throne, Ais sat through two performances. The first was an instrumental ensemble with a variety of horns he’d never seen before. The second had dancers, but the kind that put on a theatrical performance, with exaggerated drama and a scene where one person was tragically killed by another.

The crowd dabbed the corners of their eyes.

Ais yawned.

He’s contemplating the swirling red wine in his goblet, contemplating leaving early regardless of Ocudeus’ wrath, when the third performance swept into the room.

Near drowsing, he watched the dancers glide into position in the center of the room, draped in fluttering red robes and glittering pearls. A cluster of musicians set up close to the stage, their instruments polished and primed. He paused as a familiar face appeared just behind the musicians: short dark hair, emerald eye, a winsome smile on his handsome face. Leander.

Ais tilted his head, curiosity peaked. The mage rarely made an appearance in the palace of the Seaspring - before Ocudeus had swarmed his influence over the kingdom, Ais had been a frequent visitor at Leander’s pub. They used to be something close to friends.

Leander’s attention was riveted to the center of the hall. Ais followed his gaze.

The dancers had formed two rings around the stage, fixed in place with their arms out and curled artfully around them like the blooming petals of a flower. They waited, eyes bright and smiles hidden beneath silk veils, for the music to begin.

At the center of the formation was a single dancer - the prima.

Even at a distance, she shone brighter than the rest.

In addition to her ceremonial garb, she was draped in an additional robe, this one as delicate and transparent as sea foam and embroidered with the tiniest glittering gems that caught the light like a river of stars. Her long hair was swept high on her head and fixed with a crown: its frame comprised of curling, golden tendrils, cresting in the center around a massive garnet, each tentacle fixed with dangling pearls that danced with every turn of her head. The tail of her hair flowed to the small of her back, a long silky length that curled like rolling waves and gleamed under the torchlight around the hall. Her hands were the color of summer storms, in which rivers of gold branched across the dark sky.

A feast for the eyes.

Ais rose from his slouch and leaned forward on the throne.

At some unspoken signal, the musicians began to play. An eerie, seductive melody began to fill the room, a string instrument singing through the sharp beats of a drum. The dancers began to turn in place, slow and winding, before curling toward the center and rolling together, their robes forming the waves of a shore.

They twirled and writhed to the music, twining around each other, the two rings weaving together, separating, leaping around the floor as one. At their center the prima rose and fell with them, her lithe form undulating, each stroke of her arms through the air prompting an ensuing wave amongst the other dancers, as though she were the moon commanding the tides.

The lethargic tempo gradually grew more passionate and alive. He’s reminded of the insidious curl of clouds that grew in strength and torrent, until a hurricane descended from the heavens - only this particular tempest, wrapped in red silk and gold, burned like an inferno.

The prima leapt recklessly through the ranks of the other dancers, the glitter of her crown and robes parting the sea of fire like a lightning strike. At one point she danced to the front of the stage, as close to the throne as she could, and her gaze caught his over her veil.

Bright, burning eyes encircled by thick lashes and red paint. Pearls had been fixed in clusters around her temples, then scattered around her taut stomach and back, gleaming against her skin. This close, he could watch the undulation of muscle and sinew in each curl of her body, each movement graceful, effortless, as smooth as the silk clinging to her frame.

She spun back to the center of the formation as the music rose to a crescendo, her dancers all around twisting in a frenzy, and then lifted her arms. Every dancer but the prima paused, then fell to the ground like dolls whose strings had been cut.

The hair at the nape of his neck stood on end.

The gold veins across her hands and forearms suddenly flared. An aura enveloped them, golden mist issuing from her skin, and then a single ball of light formed between her palms.

Ais sat up as the ancient magic welled from within the dancer’s body.

He tensed, claws gripping the armrests, as her hands molded the sphere of magic, radiating light like a miniature star, before twisting sharply.

It burst across the air like a firework. Sparkling comets of magic flew through the air, delighting the crowd into shrieks and screams of delight. He flicked a finger as one shot toward him, redirecting it with ease, and watched as it merrily spun in the air before crashing into a statue and dissipating in a last, popping spark.

Ais eased back onto the throne, surveying the crowd. The magic hadn’t harmed any of the humans, from what he could tell. They continued to clamor rapturously, some even chasing after the last few rays of magic and grasping with their hands to try and catch it.

His gaze soon returned to the prima, inspecting her with fresh eyes.

Ancient magic presented amongst beings - humans and monsters alike - rarely but on the chance that it occurred, it did so in unique ways. He’d never seen magic quite like this, in all his centuries of existence.

The prima then glanced up, searching for a moment before finding him in the crowd. She held his gaze for a moment, a flicker of something sharp awakening in those pretty eyes.

Ais tilted his head back, his mouth curling.

Interesting.

_________________________________________________

When the servant had arrived at the guest quarters of the troupe with a summoning from the Vessel, he was met with little surprise or fanfare.

Mhin had answered the door and, after a moment, nodded tersely. “She needs time to prepare. Wait out here.”

“The Vessel will not be kept wait - “ the servant tried to stop them, only to jump back as Mhin slammed the door in his face.

Grimfaced, Mhin joined you in your corner of the dressing room. Fischa was dabbing the sweat from your body with a couple cotton pads, taking special care to refresh the makeup around your face and apply fresh glue to any pearls that slipped on your skin. “It worked.”

“Oh!” The other dancer gasped, her cheeks flushing, before she lunged for the box full of perfumes and essential oils. “How long does she have? Oh, but it’d be best if you could bathe - you can’t service the Vessel with a sweaty body. A wardrobe change, at the very least?”

A nerve in Mhin’s clenched jaw jumped, but they said nothing as Fischa was soon joined by the other dancers, who dithered around you and argued how best to prepare you for a night with the temple god.

After much debate, they bullied you into changing into a fresh ceremonial outfit - still vibrant red and accentuated by pearls and garnets, but clean, dry, and embroidered with gold sparrows and delicate blossoms.

“Just a dab of this, and you’ll be ready to go!” Fischa beamed, her fingers dipping into a lotion compact. She rubbed circles into the crook of her neck and wrists, the scent of honey and clover brushing against your senses.

You wondered whether they would be as excited preparing you for a night with the Vessel, if they knew what you intended to do with it. Still, you would never return their kindness with anything less than gratitude.

“Thank you, sisters,” you murmured, clasping her hands and offering a slightly wan smile.

“You know, I can’t remember whether we’ve had a talk about… intimate relations,” Rukia chimed in, wrapping an arm through your elbow. “Have you been with a partner before?”

“Yes,” you said immediately, shutting down that frightening prospect before the other dancer got any further. “I’m aware.”

A series of knocks banged impatiently on the door to the quarters.

Fischa shared a look with Rukia when something seemed to occur to her. She hurried to a small dresser and dug around inside before returning with a small compact. She handed it to you with slightly pink cheeks. “Take this. Surely the Vessel won’t be… too passionate, but just in case.”

Confused, you opened the lid. A clear, viscous salve sat inside. You stared at it for a moment before her words sunk in.

Your cheeks burned.

Clearing your throat, you screwed the lid back on with clumsy fingers and tucked the compact in your pocket. “Thanks, Fishca,” you said, avoiding everyone’s gaze and turning toward the door.

Mhin grabbed your arm and pulled you to a stop just before the door. In their hand was a thin, ornate dagger, the blade purest white.

You tucked it within the folds of your pants, strapped to your hip with a leather belt. The drape of your robes should hide the slight bulge - it might cause a bit of trouble unsheathing the dagger, but you’d make it work.

Mhin leaned close and murmured in your ear. “Don’t hesitate. If anything seems off, do whatever you have to to get the fuck out of there.”

You nodded.

“I’ll be nearby.” Their hand brushed across the bracelet at your wrist. It was enchanted with a spell that, when activated with magic, would signal the matching one on Mhin’s wrist to vibrate.

“If you need me.”

You nodded again, this time grabbing their hand and squeezing for a moment, before lifting your chin and striding toward the door.

The harried servant, clearly both irritated and panicked to have been kept waiting, hustled you through the palace at fast as he could.

Despite having an excellent sense of direction, you soon found yourself struggling to remember the turns you’d taken, as each hall looked identical with its blood red walls and black marble floors, when the servant guided you around one last corner that opened up to a larger room with a vaulted ceiling.

You paused on the threshold, sucking in a gasp.

Amongst the luxurious velvet walls, the towering, worn mahogany doors set at the top of an equally ancient set of stairs looked unnatural. Around the circular room, grotesque statues lined the walls - no, not just statues.

Soulless.

Your stomach lurched.

“Come, this way,” the servant ushered, hovering and gesturing insistently but apparently unwilling to touch you. “Please. He’s been waiting for so long now.”

You swallowed around a dry throat and followed on slightly shaking legs, your eyes darting around the room, trying to keep as many of the monsters in sight as possible. Still, even as you reached the bottom of the stairs, not a single Soulless had so much as twitched in your direction.

Hell of an entrance. Literally.

“Up the stairs, through the doors. Go, go.”

You’d ascended halfway when you realized the servant hadn’t accompanied you. You looked over your shoulder.

The servant was gone.

Only the Soulless remained in the room. Where before they had remained as still and lifeless as statutes, now every red eye in the room opened and fixed upon you.

Terror shot like fire through your body.

Sprinting up the steps, you burst through the old doors and slammed them shut behind you, your heart pounding in your head, your chest.

Fighting to calm down, you forced your breath to slow and let your hands fall from their panicked barricade on the door. You sighed as your body cooled, a drop of sweat racing down your spine. Fischa’s anxious attempts to blot your sweat were all for nothing.

Once your heart had stopped racing, other sounds began to filter into your senses. The soft whistle of a breeze through a cavern. Gentle, bubbling movement of still water. Groaning wood beneath your feet, the faint creaking of hanging metal.

Steeling yourself, you turned around and faced the inner sanctum of the Seaspring palace.

__________________________________________________

She was a cautious thing, for sure.

From atop the rafters, Ais watched as the dancer took short, quiet steps further into the sanctum.

She drew her robes closer, the chill of the room drawing goosebumps across the bare skin of her stomach and arms. She stopped at the edge of the water, taking in the vast temple encircled by the aging pier, the torii gate that towered above, the lanterns and talismans swinging idly amongst the mahogany pillars. Sweat cooled on her brow, her eyes bright and calculating.

“Hello? Venerable One?” she called out into the room, her voice echoing to the depths of the cavern.

He rolled his eyes at the title. The humans found something new to call him every decade or so, each more foolish than the last.

She waited but, upon receiving no response, began exploring the left side of the pier. When she reached the tea pot and cushions, she hesitated before lifting the lid and peering inside. Searching for poison? Or just curious what the Vessel drinks?

Ais smirked as her nose crinkled.

She stood up again and looked around. Her curiosity led her to the closest pillar, covered in white paper talismans. For several minutes, she read their contents, a furrow in her brow.

“What would you wish for?” he asked.

The dancer jumped, her hand reaching instinctively to her hip as she searched for the voice. Soon, she looked upward, finding him amongst the rafters. Her eyes narrowed above the veil.

“Your Excellency,” she demurred with a bow, even as her sharp eyes held fast on his form.

He tilted his chin, resisting the urge to smile. “Answer.”

She considered him, that quick mind working behind those bright eyes, before she replied, “I would never dare to wish for anything, without a full understanding of the terms.”

Now, he smirked. “Smart.”

He could tell from the spark in her gaze that she held a sharp reply on the tip of her tongue but kept silent. “Speak freely,” he said, bracing his arm on his bent knee, a pipe hanging from his fingers. “I prefer honesty to pointless pleasantries.”

The dancer bowed her head in acknowledgement. “As Your Excellency wishes.” After a moment of silence, she asked, “For what reason has Your Excellency called for me?”

“Good question. Not sure yet.”

Her brow furrowed again. Her hands twisted in the silk, the many folds of her robes flowing over her arms. During the performance, the other dancers had reminded him of flowers, but she was too animated to remind him of such a staid thing. No, more than a flower, her movements - the way she dove and soared, leaped and tumbled through the air, reminded him of a sparrow flitting through the many bows and trees of a forest, carrying the light of the sun on her wings.

She looked around the room for a moment before turning back to the tea pot. “Shall I prepare a fresh pot then?”

“No need.”

He watched as she moved to the tea pot and prepared to remove the leftover grinds, then hesitated. Where moments before the pot had stood cold and empty, a full, steaming pot of tea awaited her. Her gaze darted toward him in question.

Ais pulled from his pipe and said nothing, curious what she’d do.

After a moment’s deliberation, she lifted the handle and poured two servings into the nearby cups, her brow furrowing at the deep red color of the tea.

A short laugh escaped him.

Affecting an air both graceful and ever so slightly annoyed, she settled on a cushion and held her cup in hand, her nose poised over the steam as she tried to subtly smell the batch.

“Is this wine?” she finally asked, after failing to place the flavor.

“Something like that.”

He blew out two long furls of smoke from his nostrils before rising from the rafter and dropping down onto the pier beside her. She stiffened briefly but recovered well, her head dipping in a chime of clinking pearls and gold, as he approached and took the cushion opposite her.

Ais leaned back on the pillar and whistled.

Soon enough, the scratching of claws across the ancient wood grew closer until Princess turned the corner of the temple gate, her many tails wagging behind her, the handful of wet, amber eyes around her head rolling as they surveyed the room, the dancer, and himself. She trotted toward him, her snout prodding into the side of his face, before curling up at his hip.

Ais dropped a hand on her back, his fingers brushing her fur.

The dancer had stiffened, her back ramrod straight, fear mixing in with the lovely scent of honey and spice around her. Bemusedly, he realized the addition didn’t put him off in the slightest.

After several moments, she relaxed again, hiding her eyes behind the thick rim of lashes. She lifted the cup to her mouth, took a delicate sip, and then set it back on the ground again. “How can I be of use to you, Your Excellency?”

“Use?” He took a long drink of his own cup and savored the burning down his throat. “What do you think?”

Ais watched the quicksilver calculation flash through her eyes. Then, her posture shifting, she seemed to settle into her determination.

Her robes loosened, the sumptuous weight falling down around her elbows, pooling around her hips. The smooth skin of her shoulders were bared, her head tipping forward to allow her long hair to spill over them in soft curls. Her eyes narrowed again, not in calculation, but in sleepy, languorous seduction.

Ais let his bent leg fall to the side, opening his lap.

She took the invitation without hesitation, all curves and silk as she crawled across the distance and settled on top of him. This close, he could sense the brimming magic swimming in her veins, the golden branches across her hands and arms shining with power.

Her hands smoothed across his chest, the tips of her fingers teasing beneath the folds of his clothes, before sliding around his shoulders and settling at the nape of his neck. She curled into him, those bright eyes inches from his own, the veil hanging between their mouths.

He could sense her breath on the air, could taste it across his tongue.

The smirk that spread across his face was an evil thing, even to his own mind, but still she did nothing as he tugged the edge of her veil from its fastenings and took her mouth.

______________________________________________

He kissed like a demon.

His tongue invaded in a hot rush of teeth and breath, his mouth working with a fervor at complete odds with his attitude thus far. You’re swept in the tide, hands seeking purchase on his thick shoulders as his hot tongue found yours, each brush of rough wet muscle a torrent on your senses as you struggled to keep your wits about you.

He tasted strangely spicy, the thick mulled wine from the teapot seeping across your palate. Each shallow swallow of the taste burned a line down your throat and settled in your stomach like whiskey.

Countless times, you’d lured targets just like this. Honeypot was something of a specialty, for all that you’d rarely engaged in true intimacy. You could separate the sensations from your head, your thoughts always focused on the mission, dissociating the physical from the mental. Missions just like this were a dime a dozen - entice, approach, distract, execute. Simple. Straightforward.

Nothing about this felt simple. Never before had the pleasure been this strong, this mind-numbingly good - never had it been this difficult to just think when a target laid hands on you.

Heat flooded your body, pooling in the pit of your stomach. When his hands braced your waist, scorching palms a brand on your skin, mischievous thumbs stroking along the dips and plateaus of your stomach, every nerve in your body seemed to perk up and come alive with tingling pleasure.

You broke the clasp of his mouth, panting as his tongue swept across your lip.

Red eyes bored into you, their weight intense and all-consuming. The Vessel pulled you against his chest, his hands guiding your hips down into the valley of his lap, and instinctively they began to grind against him, as though called to dance by a lewd melody you couldn’t hear.

A stifled moan rose in your throat as the hard jut of him notched against your sensitive mound and rose to meet you, rubbing deep and slow against your clit through the perilously thin fabric. God, he’s big. You felt yourself growing wet, your arousal dampening the silk further, heightening each brutal brush against your folds.

Sweet, heady fog began to slip into your head, teased and tormented on the precipice of that perfect, elicit friction.

The air between you felt cloying, humid and hot. You tossed your head back, fighting for breath and swallowing a moan as his eager mouth found your throat and proceeded to nip and suck.

The mission. Don’t forget what you’re here for - oh fuck, that’s good .

You struggled, searching your memories for the fuel to keep on trick. Mhin’s face, the glimpse of hollow grief on his face at the mention of his village. Fischa and Rukia. Huxtly, Fenrir, and Yulia, playing out in the fields around the tents, the breeze carrying their laughter.

Gritting your teeth, you dragged your hands from around his neck, down the firm planes of his chest and covered his where they sat on the curve of your waist and guided your hips in their lazy, exquisite dance against him.

You held his wrists and drew him upward, until his palms smoothed over the bottom of your rib cage, his fingers teasing along the hem of your top, pearls on thin gold chains slipping over his knuckles. He took the invitation eagerly, roaming beneath the silk until his hands cupped your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples, testing the firm points as those terrible red eyes watched your face, devoured your flushed cheeks and hazy eyes.

Your pleasure seemed to feed his and vice versa, a conduit forming as riotous heat and lust charged the air between you.

Your hands left him to his devices, namely torturing you with flicks and pinches and hot handfuls of skin, and then returned to your waist, gripping your own hip bones as though bearing down on the thick ridge of his cock. Your right hand slipped within your pants and found the handle of the dagger.

His tongue licked a hot swath up your neck, his mouth lingering by your ear, his breath puffing against your jaw. You turned and caught his mouth again, sucking his tongue inward, your head swimming even as you fought to think.

With a quick jerk, you pulled the dagger out of its sheath, cutting through the fabric of your pants, and lifted it into the air, poised above his neck. Your grip tightened, prepared to tilt and plunge the blade into his jugular, when -

Your body froze.

What - what’s happening . Every single nerve in your body continued to sing with pleasure, your mound aching like an open wound, your skin tingling with the heat radiating from his body and touch.

Your mouth gaped, paused in the middle of a deep kiss, as he sighed and leaned back, his gaze tracing the blush on your cheeks, the dawning horror in your eyes. His hand slipped out from your breast and cupped your jaw, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip and dipping inside to tease your still tongue.

“Should’ve known not to drink from my cup, sparrow,” the Vessel said, his red eyes narrowed in satisfaction, before inspecting the raised dagger with interest. “Looks sharp.”

Then he withdrew a couple inches, just enough to bring his face closer to the weapon. “Oh…?” He met your paralyzed gaze over the blade. “Abaranth steel?” He tilted his head thoughtfully before a smirk spread across bruised lips. “So it’s personal.”

You watched, terror quickly replacing the fading pleasure in your body, sucking the warmth from your veins until sweat lay cold and dry on your skin, your heart racing furiously.

The Vessel dragged his hand down your neck, across your shoulder and down your arm in a mocking caress, fingers cupping your elbow teasingly, before reaching the thick gold veins embedded in your skin. “Wanted a closer look at these, but… turns out there’s more to you than meets the eye.”

You fought against the unnatural paralysis with all your might, those same veins he traced with his thumb lighting up with stifled magic - but to no avail. His words bubbled to the surface of your panic. You glanced down at the mug you’d taken barely a sip of.

The wine?

The Vessel hummed low in his throat, his gaze pausing on your face, before a slow smirk spread across his mouth.

Checkmate, sparrow , he whispered, but not once had his lips moved to form the words.

Your heart pounded in your chest, panic building to a crescendo, your body vibrating as though struck by lightning. What is this? What did you do to me ? you thought feverishly. What did I drink ?

His scarlet eyes flared, their malevolent glow burning like banked embers in the gloom of the temple. Then, with a flick of his wrist, the tea pot’s lid spun off the frame and onto the ground nearby. He hooked his fingers over the rim and lifted the pot until the chamber was level with your eyes.

Thick, blood red water sloshed from within, dribbling down the side of the pot.

The same water that ebbed beneath the pier.

You stared, a scream echoing from the distance.

Now , he mused, his voice almost bored even as it invaded your mind, let’s see what secrets you’ve got tucked away in this head of yours.

_____________________________________

a/n: comments and likes are appreciated!

#ais reader fic #ais x reader #touchstarved fanfic #touchstarved reader fic #ais touchstarved #touchstarved #touchstarved imagines

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its-avalon-08 · 3 months

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lando norrix x reader part4

part 4 guys <;3 themes- enemies to lovers flirty interactions female Formula1 driver

Chapter 4 - Laughter and Shadows

The post-race interviews buzzed with the usual whirlwind of questions and soundbites. Max, ever the stoic champion, dispensed his answers with practiced ease. Y/N, however, was a different story. Her playful banter with the reporters had the room in stitches, her genuine humor and quick wit disarming even the most jaded journalists.

"And Y/N," a reporter chimed, "that overtake on Leclerc for P2, absolutely textbook! Were you nervous at all?"

Y/N's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Oh, you know, just the usual pre-overtake existential crisis – should I go inside, outside, fake a pit stop? But then I remembered Charles probably wouldn't appreciate the pit maneuver in Monaco traffic, so inside it was!"

The room erupted in laughter, even Red Bull's resident stoic, Sergio Perez, cracking a smile. Y/N, unable to contain herself, burst into a fit of giggles, grabbing Checo's shoulder for balance. The gesture was casual, friendly, but to Lando, watching from the corner of the media pen, it felt like a branding iron searing his insides.

His jaw clenched, his fists bunched up under the interview table. The playful camaraderie between Y/N and Checo, the ease with which she touched him – it ignited a jealous rage within him that he couldn't explain. He knew Y/N and Checo were just teammates, colleagues, but the sight of them together twisted his gut with an emotion he couldn't name.

Max, meanwhile, watched the entire exchange with a raised eyebrow. He'd noticed Lando's simmering jealousy before, but this… this was a different kind of anger, darker, more possessive. It sent a shiver down his spine, a disquieting premonition of the chaos that might ensue.

"Next question, please?" Y/N's voice cut through the silence, her smile back in place, seemingly oblivious to the storm brewing in Lando's heart.

The interviews resumed, a seemingly innocuous exchange of soundbites and predictions. But beneath the surface, a tension crackled, a silent battle being waged in the shadows of the paddock. Lando's eyes burned with a dark fire, his focus shifting from the interviewer to Y/N and Checo, his smile becoming a strained mask.

Max, sensing the growing animosity, exchanged a wary glance with Y/N. They both knew the season was far from over, and the battle on the track was only a part of the story. The real challenge, the true test, would be navigating the treacherous landscape of jealousy, ambition, and the simmering darkness that threatened to consume them all.

As the media scrum dispersed, Max found Y/N alone, a thoughtful frown etched on her face. "You alright?" he asked, his voice low.

Y/N met his gaze, her smile fading. "I don't know, Maxy," she admitted. "There's something about Lando… it's different this time. I feel like he's changed. And holy fuck, its a little hot, but I/m just confused, what did i do?"

Max nodded, a sudden understanding in his eyes. "He's jealous, Y/N," he said bluntly. "Jealous of Checo stealing your laughs, maybe even something more."

Y/N shivered, a cold unease settling in her stomach. "More?" she echoed.

Max didn't answer, but his silence spoke volumes. The laughter and lightheartedness of the interviews felt miles away, replaced by a chilling premonition of the dangers that lurked beneath the surface. The battle for victory had just begun, and in this game, the stakes were higher than ever.

#max verstappen imagine #lando norris #formula 1 #formula one #charles leclerc #sergio perez #carlos sainz #y/n

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storyofmychoices · 9 months

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The Cutest Goof

[Mal Volari x Daenarya Masterlist] [Mal’s Orphanage]

Pairings: Mal Volari x Daenarya (F!MC) Book: Blades of Light and Shadow (post-book 1) Word Count: ~600 Rating: Teen to be safe, some suggestive dialogue

Synopsis: Daenarya has some thoughts on Mal's new armor.

A/N: This drabble is inspired by Choices's choice of words describing Mal as "the cutest goof" in their caption for my commission that was featured this week. I find it amusing since it's the opposite of the story that I wrote for the art where Daenarya is literally all over Mal. You can read the original version of this story & see the full art here

After tightening the straps of his new armor once more, Mal strode out of the house, finding Daenarya in the backyard watching the children. He fiddled with the cloak, pulling it over his shoulders and adjusting it in an attempt to cover his arms. Despite his usual confidence, he still felt exposed with his arms out in the open with no protection.

Daenarya caught his gaze. The usual smile that greeted him grew wider as a soft giggle slipped from her lips. She put Rayden down, sending him off to his brother as she approached Mal.

The rogue straightened his shoulders, holding his head high despite the teasing he knew would ensue. "I take it you find this new armor amusing?"

Daenarya's playful laughter continued, her eyes sparkling as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "You look like the cutest goof that the Kingdom of Morella has ever seen."

His left eyebrow arched in a combination of disbelief and annoyance. "What?" He stammered. "Cute and goof are not words that could ever describe me."

Daenarya's grin widened as she struggled to compose herself. "Well, there's a first time for everything," she teased. "You're pulling off the whole adorable adventurer look quite well. It even makes you look nice and trim like you didn't pack on a few pounds from all the sweets." She patted her hand against his stomach.

"Adorable?" Mal pulled away. "Need I remind you, I'm a devilishly handsome rogue, not some fluffy pet."

Daenarya chewed her lower lip, trying to stop the rounds of laughter fighting to rise within her. "Of course you are," she agreed, her voice still dancing with amusement as she attempted to placate him. "But for now, let's just appreciate the cutest goof you are?"

He sighed dramatically, his head shaking to the sides. "My reputation is ruined," he declared, trying to hide his own growing amusement.

"I suppose it's all a matter of perspective." Her head dipped to the side as her gaze raked over every inch of him. "It could be considered an improvement if you like that kind of thing."

"You do realize that beneath this armor is the same dashing and lovable rogue you fell for, right?"

"Oh, I know," she replied, her voice filled with affection as she ran her fingers over his exposed arms. "And I still can enjoy this new look. I mean I do love seeing this view of your arms. They do look quite nice. And everything else looks very form-fitting, which enhances some features."

He rolled his eyes in playful exasperation. "Fine! Enjoy your amusement while it lasts. Soon you'll realize the error of your ways and be all over me."

Daenarya pressed her palms to his chest, enjoying the close fit of the armor. "Oh, well, I don't think there was ever any doubt of that. Cute. Adorable. Handsome. Rugged—" her voice quieted. "—sexy. I enjoy it all! You're mine, Mal Volari. Every side of you."

A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. "I like the sound of that."

"Of course you do—" Her brow quirked as she pressed a kiss on his cheek. "My loveable, devilishly handsome, cutest goof."

"See if you still think I'm a cute goof when I'm done with you." His hands grabbed her hips as he pulled her flush against him. His breath was warm against her ear. "I think you'll find those words ill-suited for what I have planned."

"I look forward to it." Her darkened gaze lingered on him for a moment longer until the laughter of the children playing behind her pulled her focus. "To be continued."

Mal smirked as he kissed her lips, desperate for one quick taste. "To be continued," he eagerly agreed.

Although I and Daenarya would never label Mal the "cutest goof" I had a good laugh imagining someone calling him that since Choices chose those words so here we are. I hope you enjoyed this too. I know the language is not really something Daenarya would normally come up with, but I tried to work it in and keep her and Mal's normal flirty dynamic. I hope you enjoyed this!

Thank you for reading ❤️

#mal volari #mal volari x mc #mal volari x oc #malarya #daenarya #mal x daenarya #blades of light and shadow #bolas #choices #playchoices #choices game #choices book club #fan fiction #lovealexhunt #august2023

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v-o-i-d-e-d · 1 year

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I’ll Follow Your Lead - Nighttime Chatter

~Also posted on my Ao3 and Wattpad~

Part 1 - Part 3

“You’re on in five, dearie!” The old seamstress’s frail voice broke Dorothea out of her stupor. She fought the urge to rub her eyes which were made up with light pink and silver shadow. As she applied dark red lipstick to her full lips, she hummed along to the music the pianist was playing in the dining room. When she decided her makeup was good enough, she took a deep breath: in through her nose and out through her mouth. She was always nervous before a show. She always dreaded that the next performance would be her last. She studied her reflection in the mirror, dark skin speckled with glitter and eyes sparkling in the vanity lights. Dorothea was indeed quite beautiful and she knew it. She smiled at herself in the mirror before rising from the plush stool and heading toward the stage.

Her set was short, but she received a lot of applause as the curtains closed. As soon as the dining room was out of sight, Dorothea let out the breath she was holding and picked up her long draping skirts to go back to her dressing room. After she had changed back into her own clothes, a knock on the door preceded it swinging wide open.

“Splendid! Wonderful performance, my dear,” Elmer, the owner of the restaurant, embraced Dorothea and softly patted her head. “You were a vision of light this evening.”

“Thank you, Elmer. I appreciate you very much,” Dorothea returned his embrace before breaking away with a tired smile. It had to have been the wee hours of the morning by now and she was feeling it deep in her bones.

“Please, have some dinner before you go. I can’t have you leave hungry; the missus would never have it!” Elmer wrapped his arm around the girl’s shoulder and guided her toward the back of the building where the kitchen was. Dorothea said nothing but followed with no resistance. She knew that she would not be permitted to leave without at least bringing some food with her and she had no objections. In the kitchen, Margarette – Elmer’s wife – hovered over a steaming pot. It was small and likely just a personal serving since the kitchen was soon to close for the night. The portly woman turned to watch Elmer and Dorothea enter and smiled brightly. Her wrinkled, red cheeks stretched and filled Dorothea with a sense of comfort.

“Oh, Dorothea, you were magnificent! Come, come, let's feed our lovely songbird, Elmer!” The woman bustled about the kitchen, first leading Dorothea to a small stool at the wooden butcher’s table and then grabbing the pot and a plate while Elmer fetched some water. When Dorothea was served, her mouth watered at the sight of fresh pasta fazool. She quickly began eating and held light conversations with the older couple.

Elmer and Margarette were immigrants from Italy and had been living in New York for nearly 20 years. When Dorothea met them, they had already established their restaurant as one of the places to be in New York City. Their food was well known and loved by locals and visitors, yet their place kept its local, homey charm. Dorothea came to them as a scrappy, sickly young girl, fresh off the train from out West with not a soul to turn to. The couple took her in and nursed her back to health with delicious food and lots of love and advice. Dorothea cherished them.

“I’m afraid I have to get back home now. It’s getting late and I have a morning shift tomorrow,” Dorothea said as she stood up and took her dirty dishes to the sink. She was about to start washing them when Margarette swatted her hands and waved her away.

“No need to bother yourself with that, dear, you work hard enough you don’t need to be doing my job as well!”

“Oh, but it’s not-“

“No, dear, she’s right! You would work yourself to death if you were left alone!” Elmer chuckled as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. Dorothea rolled her eyes but let out a laugh as well. She wouldn’t admit it but they were right. She did not know when to quit. “Now you go on home and get some rest. We’ll see you tomorrow evening.”

Dorothea nodded and gave them both kisses on the cheek before leaving out of the back door in the kitchen.

It was almost 2 in the morning when Dorothea arrived at the boarding house. She quietly crept up the stairs, carefully avoiding the squeaky ones until she was on the third floor. She had expected her roommate to be asleep but light seeped from underneath the pale yellow door and Dorothea sighed. She opened the door and looked disapprovingly at her friend.

“You’re supposed to be asleep, by now Angeline.”

The young girl looked up with a start. Her pale face quickly dropped into a sheepish smile as she earmarked her place in the book she was reading.

Angeline Langley was about thirteen years of age. She was an orphan – like Dorothea – and had come to the house late the previous year. She was boisterous and rebellious and quick to mouth off. Dorothea took to her quickly and treated her as a little sister: making sure she stayed out of trouble and behaved properly.

“I know, but I lost track of time while I was reading. It’s a wonderful story! Have you read it, Dory?” Angeline got up and showed Dorothea the cover of the book. It was faded and torn but in good enough condition to tell what it was. The Picture of Dorian Gray.

“Yes, I’ve read it. It’s my favorite! In fact,” Dorothea eyed the girl with playful suspicion, “This looks an awful lot like the copy I misplaced last month! How curious!” Angeline’s eyes widened and her cheeks reddened with embarrassment.

“I was just borrowing it! I promise I’ll give it back,” The young girl cried. Dorothea shushed her and walked all the way into the room shutting the door behind her.

“Worry not, I’m not upset with you,” She ran her slender hand over Angeline’s frizzy hair, “But next time, you would like to read one of my books you may ask.” Dorothea patted her on the shoulder and walked over to her own bed. Angeline made a sound of understanding and returned to her plush chair. Dorothea dressed for bed and laid out her work clothes for the morning before turning back to the young girl.

“I meant it when I said you should be asleep. Mark your place and go to bed, Angeline,” Dorothea placed her hands on her hips and fixed the girl with a stern look.

“Fine. But you must tell me about your day! Did you meet anyone interesting at the café?” Angeline climbed into her bed and slipped into the covers. She then stared at Dorothea, patiently awaiting her answer.

“Well, there was one man-“

Oh, a man,” Angeline interrupted with a teasing tone. Dorothea rolled her eyes before continuing, “Yes, a man. Well, he’s more of a boy. I think he’s my age,” Dorothea started to recall her meeting with the boy. Jack.

“Well, sir, here’s your hot chocolate. Your pastry will be out soon, I had to bake a new batch,” Dorothea huffed a breath forcefully upward to blow some of her black hair away from her face as she set down a steaming mug. Jack smiled up at her and eagerly reached for the cup. Dorothea moved it away from his reaching hands. “Wait! The cup is really hot. Be careful,” she warned before letting go of the mug.

“Thanks for the warning,” Jack chuckled before wrapping his hands around the mug. They were cold anyway from the winter air and he welcomed the soft sting of the hot ceramic. Dorothea hummed in acknowledgment before turning to go back to the counter. Jack stared after the girl, admiring her. He had seen plenty of women in his life and each of them had their own admirable qualities. Dorothea was no different. She carried herself with the confidence and poise of a debutant and yet wore stained clothes. Her hair was messily tied on top of her head with a dark red ribbon, leaving dark curls to fall perfectly into her face. She was slender and a little on the short side but everything about her seemed to be her – she was a gorgeous woman. We watched her as she moved about the café. She spoke to the old woman seated near the window, swept the front counter, and finally disappeared into the kitchen for a brief moment. Dorothea returned to Jack with a pastry in hand, the glaze was not yet dry and steam rose steadily off of its surface.

“One cinnamon bun, just for you,” she said as she set the plate down in front of him.

“Would you mind if I drew you?”

Dorothea blinked at the blond boy in surprise. She had never been asked such a question before.

“What?”

“You see, I’m an artist and I like to draw interesting people. I like the way you look, especially the way you’ve put up your hair. May I draw you?”

Dorothea shook her head a bit and forced a small smile.

“Uh, I don’t think that’s really appropriate. I, uh-“

“Excuse me, miss?” A customer called out for Dorothea’s attention providing her a way out of the conversation.

“I should go, um, handle whatever they need. Enjoy your food, sir,” And with that, Dorothea scurried away, sufficiently distracted by the strange request. Jack was undeterred and simply smirked in amusement at her flustered reaction before focusing on his sweet treats.

“He left a short while after that,” Dorothea finished her story of the day and pulled her covers up closer to her face. Angeline giggled wildly in her bed.

“He wanted to draw you and you said no? Was he handsome? What was his name?” The young girl rapidly fired questions at Dorothea who put her hand up to signal for quiet.

“I’ve kept the both of us up for long enough, we should both go to bed,” Dorothea reached for the table in between the two beds and turned the lamp off. She heard Angeline grumble under her breath and chuckled to herself. Jack was handsome, there was no denying it. But Dorothea was slightly put on edge by his strange request. Who would want to draw her? What would they gain? She pondered these questions until a deep sleep overcame her and she was lost to her dreams.

#Titanic #titanic x reader #Jack Dawson imagine #jack dawson x oc #jack dawson x reader #Jack Dawson #Titanic (1997)#rose dewitt bukater #1912 #leonardo dicaprio #AU #canon divergent au #new york city

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katareyoudrilling · 1 year

Text

Hallelujah (Marcus Pike x Fem Reader Drabble)

Pairing: Orchestra Marcus x Female Reader

Summary: You and Marcus attend a post-performance holiday party

Word count: ~800

Rating: T (my blog is 18+ only. NO MINORS)

Content Warnings: Fluff

A/N: This takes place in the All About the Bass universe. Thanks to everyone who thinks about these two as much as I do and especially to @deadhumourist for providing the nudge I needed to write this down today!

Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

Masterlist

Taglist – link is on my Masterlist and in my bio

You laugh to yourself over your glass of wine as you watch Marcus across the room. He’s smiling and nodding as Raymond, the principal viola, explains why it is not historically accurate to use mutes when playing Handel’s Messiah.

It’s an annual rant brought on by the ever-changing stream of conductors who lead this performance of the Messiah and vary in how much importance they put on authenticity.

You’ve played under five conductors over the course of the eight years you’ve been a part of this small ensemble. This year, Raymond convinced the new conductor that mutes were unnecessary and is now sharing his triumph with whoever will listen. Right now, it’s Marcus he has in his snare.

It is a tradition to gather at bassist Dan’s home following the performance for a simple buffet dinner, lots of wine, and lively conversation. It has become one of your favorite holiday season traditions. Dan made sure you knew that Marcus was invited along, even though he wasn’t playing his bass in this performance.

You had a feeling that confirmed bachelor Dan appreciates Marcus for more than his willingness to help set up chairs and share the bass workload. Who could blame him? The entire orchestra has fallen in love with Marcus over the past nine months.

You continue gazing at Marcus across the room. The golden light from the meticulously decorated Christmas tree casts soft shadows across his profile. You could stare at him for hours admiring the arch of his nose… the strong line of his jaw… the crease in the center of his plump bottom lip… the way his dimple appears when he chuckles good naturedly along with Raymond…

You’re brought out of your reverie by the sound of your name.

“I’m sorry, what?” You turn your attention towards Sarah, your stand partner, who had clearly been trying to get your attention.

“No worries, babe, he’s very nice to look at. I just wanted to know if you’d like another glass of wine? I’m getting a refill for myself.”

As if he heard her, Marcus glances over at you and winks before turning back to Raymond, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You feel your cheeks warm at getting caught, but it’s all good-natured fun. It’s clear to everyone around how you and Marcus feel about each other.

“That would be great, thanks.” You hand Sarah your glass. “I’m just going to pop into the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

A few minutes later, you emerge from the bathroom and startle to find Marcus standing in the dim hallway.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he murmurs as he pulls you into his broad chest for a hug.

“How did you get away from Raymond?”

Marcus chuckles as he runs his warm hands down your arms, pulling the tension from your shoulders and taking your hands in his. He stretches your fingers apart with his own in the way he knows you need after a strenuous performance. You moan and lean into him.

“I saw an opening and I took it,” he explains while continuing to stretch your hands and wrists. “He’s a good guy.”

“He is,” you mumble into his chest. “I would fight anyone who was mean to him.”

“I’m sure you would.” Marcus releases your hands and cradles your jaw, tipping your face up towards his.

“Thanks for coming along tonight,” you say softly, looking up into his chocolate brown eyes.

“Of course. I’m having a great time.” Marcus presses a gentle kiss to your lips, and you sigh as you melt into him. His large hands cradle your head and neck as he kisses you slowly, taking his time to explore your lips before tasting deeper into your mouth. You cling to his narrow hips, pulling yourself flush against him.

All too soon, Marcus pulls back. He smiles at your whimpering protest, making his eyes crinkle at the corners. “I want to get invited back, you know,” he teases, running his thumb across your lower lip. “You played so well today. I love watching you,” Marcus continues quietly, the low rumble of his voice vibrates through your body.

“Thank you.” You smile up at him, so glad to have him in your life. “This music really gets stuck in my head. It’s racing around in there.” Your thoughts turn to your typical post-concert routine and arousal pools low in your belly.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, eyes flashing mischievously. “I can help you with that later.”

“Are you sure you’re up for the challenge? It’s really catchy.” You bite your lip as you look at him, feigning skepticism. Marcus hasn’t failed you yet.

“Always,” he growls playfully, nuzzling into your neck, “however many orgasms it takes.”

“I think it’s going to take a lot,” you laugh as he nips at your neck.

“Then we’d better bet back in there and hydrate.” Marcus winks and takes your hand, leading you back towards the party.

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

Taglist:

@neddrollsdice @lovesbiggerthanpride @kirsteng42 @pedrohoe04 @greeneyedblondie44 @pagannightwitch @kaitieskidmore1 @alexxavicry @mandoblowmybackout @mswarriorbabe80 @nothoughtsjustmeds @loonymagizoologist @aynsleywalker @maievdenoir @ruhro7 @amneris21 @tionmeh @theravenreads @bravopeach @bport76 @eppy816 @harriedandharassed @mandobi @thirddeadlysin @littlemisspascal @whataperfectwasteoftime @just-here-for-the-moment @thirsty-flygirl @yespolkadotkitty @deadhumourist @wheresarizona

#Marcus Pike #marcus pike x reader #pedro pascal characters #all about the bass

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nightcourtseer · 2 years

Text

Bad Dreams

(Will be posted as part of my Elriel one-shots as well on AO3)

Elain woke before the sun to a chill in the air. Instead of nuzzling in further to the cocoon of thick blankets, in which Azriel was buried somewhere, she gave a feline stretch, blinking the sleep away from her eyes.

It was a beautiful late fall morning in Velaris, she felt it in her bones. And she knew if she were to look outside, the homes down the street from theirs would be coated in a thin layer of sparkling frost, bathed in the pink light of dawn.

Their home sat close enough to where Elain could still easily walk into town, to go to the markets and continue to help with restoration projects. But also far enough that they enjoyed their space, with a large garden in the back and enough quiet for them both to heal.

Elain slowly slipped from Azriel’s grasp around her waist. She knew he was deep asleep when no effort was made by strong hands to pull her back under and closer to his chest.

As she stood, she looked down at the top of his face just barely visible above the sheets. She noticed appreciatively how the purple bruises that she thought might be permanently staining his undereyes had slowly disappeared over the months they had been together. He had gone from barely sleeping at all to sleeping in, so much so that sometimes Elain could only rouse him with the smell of something baking, or with insistent kisses pressed to his chest or neck, or wherever she could reach.

Her bare feet hit the cold wooden floor of their bedroom and a delighted shiver ran down her spine. She had always loved this time of year, when the earth transitioned into a well-deserved rest, when she was able to shift her focus from the outside in, to feed the people she loved with warm food and sated stomachs.

Shrugging off her thin robe and discarding it on the bed, she exchanged it for a heavier sweater of Azriel’s sitting on top of the nearby dresser. It was so dark blue it was almost black, and it was almost threadbare on the right elbow and around the left cuff, but it smelled entirely of him.

Padding out of the room, she closed the door quietly behind her and made her way downstairs to the modest but well-equipped kitchen. There were days when she sorely missed finding Nuala and Cerridwen there, waiting to show her a new herb or technique. Gentle smiles on their faces, coaxing away the fear and anguish that had never seemed to leave her be in those early days in the Night Court.

But she also relished the privacy they had here, just her and Azriel. Free to discover each other in peace.

Elain lit a few candles in the kitchen, leaving them to burn until the sun was a little higher in the sky. And then she got to work, set on making cinnamon streudel muffins that had always been Feyre’s favorite when they were young children.

The sun slowly drifted higher and soon warm, golden rays of sun filtered in the many windows lining the room, keeping Elain company while she worked. She hummed quietly to herself, a song that she so often caught Azriel singing to himself as he pored over reports next to her in the garden.

She was just mixing up the cinnamon topping when she felt, rather than saw, a cloud of dark shadows apparate behind her.

Before she could even blink she was being enveloped in strong arms with a vice grip, almost desperately clutching at her.

Involuntarily, she let out a surprised gasp.

Azriel buried his face in her neck, midnight locks mixing with her long brown curls as he held her tight.

His shadows continued to whip around them, clearly unsettled. Occasionally Elain could have sworn she saw the form of a viper striking out in the atmosphere surrounding them, on high alert.

“What’s wrong?” Elain breathed, panicked. “Azriel?”

She fought against his grip to turn in his arms, so that she could look him in the eyes. He relaxed his embrace just enough for her to do so. He was bare, standing before her.

“Azriel,” she breathed, “You can tell me.”

Finally, he raised his head to meet her gaze. His hazel eyes were wild as he looked back at her, hair still mussed from sleep. He seemed to stare right through her, as if his mind was somewhere else entirely.

“Your robe, on the bed. I woke up and you weren’t there…”

Elain’s own mind traveled back to the war against Hybern. Azriel coming for her, stepping through the flaps of tent. An avenging angel.

That next morning, Feyre had told her that he had been the one to notice she was missing. And how they had found her cloak, still warm.

After months of sharing a bed, Elain intimately knew each of the moments that plagued his nightmares.

Azriel lifted his hands from where they were wrapped around her to put them on either side of her face, and pressed a bruising, frantic kiss to her lips.

“I’m right here,” she whispered against his lips as he took a steadying breath.

He rested his forehead against hers.

“I’m sorry,” he said, closing his eyes.

“A wise male once told me never to apologize,” Elain responded in turn, letting a bit of lightness enter her voice.

Azriel chuckled, his breath a warm flush again her cheeks.

“Now, as much as I love admiring you naked, you must be freezing. Get some clothes on and I’ll be done with this in a few minutes.”

Azriel took a hesitant step away from her.

“I love you,” he said, eyes intense as he looked down at her.

“And I love you,” she answered. “Always.”

They spent the rest of the morning around the kitchen table, watching the frost melt outside, Elain in Azriel’s lap as she fed him baked good after baked good, laughing as he smeared warm sugar on her face every time he kissed her.

#elriel #pro elain #elain archeron

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warmbloodcomic · 6 months

Text

Warm Blood: Girls Mode

Written by Josh Tierney

Photo edit by Caitlin Soliman

Pt. 2

The maids completed the routine, which encompassed all 12-and-a-half minutes of the song. The lights on the stage went out, and the customers and floor maids applauded as the stage maids held their final poses for several seconds. The maids on either side of the flyer girl then hopped off, leaving the flyer girl standing casually onstage as she looked at Penny and Eve with a curious smile.

Penny and Eve had already returned their attention to each other.

“You’d think they’d dance to like an anime theme or something,” Penny said. She looked down at her empty plate, only just now realising she had finished her pancake.

“I kept waiting for them to invite a customer up, like at a theme park,” Eve said, her eyes sparkling at the idea. “I totally would’ve gone up if they tried that!”

Penny opened her mouth to speak, but Eve spoke for her: “I know, there’s no way you would’ve danced.”

Eve took a sip of her coffee, then continued speaking with an encouraging smile: “I still would’ve rooted for you.”

The shadow of a maid who wasn’t their own fell onto their table. Penny paused in the middle of gulping down her orange drink to glance at the shadow’s owner.

The flyer girl was standing there, less like a maid in a themed restaurant, or even like a girl who handed out flyers for one, and more like a girl who had just got off work and was about to enjoy the night.

“How was it?” the flyer girl asked. “Did you like the performance?”

“It was sooo cute!” praised Eve. “When you told us this was a maid café, I was expecting way more sweeping and a lot less dancing. But now that I know what they’re like, I want to come to one everyday.”

“I’m so happy,” the flyer girl said. “I choreographed that dance myself.”

Penny and Eve were blown away – they wouldn’t have expected that from someone so close to their age, especially not from someone they had just seen handing out advertisements on a rainy street.

“You must be a higher rank of maid, then,” Eve said with a huge smile.

“S-tier, for sure,” Penny agreed.

The flyer girl smiled appreciatively at them.

“Not quite,” she said. “I’m more of a freelancer . . . I like to be able to come and go as I please.”

The flyer girl pulled out her phone, looked at it, then looked back at Penny and Eve.

“My name’s Maaya,” she told them.

“I’m Penny,” Penny said. She was secretly happy to be having a full conversation with a local in English.

“I’m Eve,” Eve said. “I know someone named Maya back in Canada.”

“Oh, are you both Canadians?” Maaya asked, genuinely interested.

“Yup! We live near Toronto.”

“The Maple Leafs, right?”

“That’s right!” Eve responded, impressed. “You know a lot.”

Maaya looked to her right. Penny and Eve’s maid had appeared as if from out of thin air. Maaya spoke to the maid in Japanese, and the maid nodded in response before heading towards the front counter.

“Your half-hour is up,” Maaya informed Penny and Eve. “You could stay here, but you’ll be charged for another 30 minutes.”

Penny and Eve looked at each other; the look said “as cool as this place is, we shouldn’t waste our money.” They made use of their napkins and stood, satisfied with the experience.

“Is this your first time in Akiba?” Maaya asked them.

“It’s our first time in Japan,” Penny explained.

“What made you decide to come here?”

“My mom came on a business trip,” Penny said. “We’re just tagging along.”

“We have a YouTube channel called Girls Mode,” Eve added proudly. “We haven’t used it in a while, but we have a thousand subscribers on it. We’d post Let’s Plays, reviews, makeup tutorials, game development tips – pretty much anything that came to mind.

“We want to revive it during our trip, and post some travelogue videos.”

Maaya smiled a knowing smile, like she was eager to share a secret with them.

“I can show you a few places, if you like,” she said. “I know Akiba like the back of my hand.”

Eve looked at the back of Maaya’s hand, and found it slender and pretty. She then looked at Penny, as if leaving the decision to her. Penny looked at Eve and could tell Eve would be glad to spend more time with Maaya. They then looked at Maaya together.

“Sure,” Penny said, slightly weirded out. Despite Maaya being close to them in age, Penny knew she shouldn’t be totally trusting of a stranger they had just met in another country, especially since Eve clearly would. She decided she would keep her guard up for both their sakes.

Yes, let’s follow the strange maid, Penny thought as she and Eve followed Maaya to the front counter. What the heck are we doing?

Eve paid for both of them with her credit card, which had been set up for her by her upper-middle-class parents. To Penny, “upper-middle-class” meant Eve’s family was fabulously rich, but she never commented on this out loud around Eve, since she knew it would make her feel bad.

“You can pay me back at the hotel room,” Eve said with a smile. During the trek from

Narita Airport to their hotel room in Akihabara, Eve had taken notice of Penny’s struggles to figure out which Japanese coins were worth which amounts of money. Covering costs for both of them was simply a way of streamlining their experience.

The counter maids bowed and thanked them, so Penny and Eve bowed and thanked the maids back, with Penny blushing as she bowed clumsily and awkwardly.

Penny felt embarrassed by her attempts at interacting with pretty much everyone, especially in comparison to how effortlessly Eve integrated into a society so unlike her own. She didn’t get it – she was the one who was 1000% into Japanese video games, 80% into manga, and 70% into anime, not Eve.

It was like the shyness she had spent her first year of high school breaking free from had come rushing back, wrapping her up in its quiet comfort.

But, also, it was just the first night. She would keep trying.

“Let’s go,” Maaya said.

The trio exited the maid café, descended the green-lit stairs, and made their way back to the slightly rainy street.

“Where are you staying?” Maaya asked them.

“It’s that really tall hotel close to where you were handing out flyers,” Penny said. “We’re staying there with my mom. I forget what it’s called.”

“Oh, that one?” Maaya said knowingly. “That’s a nice hotel. Western-style beds, modern design . . . One of my aunts stays there when she visits.”

Hearing Maaya casually reference her family made Penny feel more comfortable. The trio stuck close together as they walked, with Maaya slightly in the lead.

“We won’t venture too far from it,” Maaya assured them. “It can be fun to get lost in Akiba, but maybe not on the first night.”

“You speak English so well,” Eve complimented her.

“Thank you,” Maaya said. “I’m paid extra when I send foreigners to cafés, so I’ve been taking advanced courses online.”

She then smiled at Eve. “Would you like to practice your Japanese?”

Maaya, in Japanese, asked Eve what she was most interested in doing in Akihabara. Eve picked up on some of the words, and answered: “Penny is a huge, huge fan of games. I want her to see the coolest game store.”

“That’s easy,” Maaya told them. “It’s Super Potato.”

Eve nearly gasped. The idea of going to a place called Super Potato was all she needed to achieve perfect happiness. It didn’t matter what kind of store it was.

“I’ve heard of it,” Penny said, while Eve silently imagined a potato with magical powers. “It’s a big retro store, right?”

“That’s right. It takes up the top three floors of a building.”

It didn’t take long for the girls to arrive at Super Potato, the three sheltered from the rain by Maaya’s transparent umbrella.

Depicted on a big yellow sign was an anthropomorphic potato with a surprisingly Western design, looking more like the mascot of a Canadian chip brand than something used to promote a videogame store in Akihabara. Maaya asked if they wanted to take a picture in front of it, and used Penny’s cellphone to take a picture of Penny and Eve with the potato visible above them. Penny had managed an awkward smirk for the photo, while Eve had a big, cheesy smile.

“I can help record videos for your YouTube channel as well,” Maaya offered.

“Really?! That would be amazing!” Eve responded gratefully.

Eve passed her phone to Maaya, as hers was more advanced than Penny’s. After showing Maaya which buttons to press, Maaya began recording the pair as they climbed the steps to the first level of the store. The climb was slow as Penny and Eve kept stopping to admire the retro game posters, featuring everything from Parodius to a roster of Claymation enemies from Super Mario RPG. Penny took the time to explain all the Japan-only games being advertised, mainly for Eve’s sake but also for their modest YouTube audience.

Locals who were used to the posters had to navigate around the girls, apologising as they did so. Eventually they located the entrance to the first level, and Penny’s legs nearly buckled at the sight of all the old games within, this floor focusing on older systems like the Famicom, Super Famicom and Mega Drive. (Penny then explained that the Famicom was the NES, the Super Famicom was the Super Nintendo, and the Mega Drive was the Sega Genesis.)

Penny grabbed Eve’s arm and squeezed it, needing an outlet for the rush of retro game energy coursing through her veins.

“It’s beautiful,” Penny whisper-shouted. For a moment Eve assumed she was referring to the life-size Fox McCloud statue just past the entrance, but, no, Penny clearly meant everything.

The retro posters continued into the store itself, and CRT monitors displayed the attract modes for Final Fantasy VI and Sonic the Hedgehog 2. In addition to all the games – presented either in their original boxes on the shelves or as loose cartridges in tidy bins below – there were rare soundtrack CDs, strategy guides, artbooks and toys, including an entire row of deluxe Puyo Puyo character figures.

Penny took her time in each section, with Eve happily following, Penny pointing out rare and unique games as Maaya recorded the tour. The artwork for many of the games was quite beautiful, with hand-painted manga-style illustrations on nearly all of them. The games’ original cardboard boxes were also packaged well in clear plastic sleeves, preventing fingerprints and other damage from the many browsing customers. Penny truly believed the store should be listed as a museum in official travel guides.

“Oh, Sailor Moon!” Eve exclaimed, finally finding something she not only recognised but actively enjoyed. Apparently, Japan was treated to an entire run of Sailor Moon games that had never made their way to North America, with a tonne of them on the Super Famicom.

The Sailor Moon section gave Eve an opportunity to speak to the Girls Mode viewers, with Eve explaining that she preferred the monster-of-the-week episodes to the high stakes fever dream finales, and how she preferred the slice-of-life scenes to the actual fighting. What she liked most about the fight scenes was the Sailor Scout outfits and transformation sequences.

She then struck Sailor Moon’s iconic pose, and some other customers asked Maaya if they could have their pictures taken with the blonde girl doing the anime poses. Maaya translated for Eve, and Eve accepted despite being slightly uncomfortable – in her mind, this was the price of fame for a YouTuber.

The trio moved up to the second floor, where the rest of the games could be found, everything ranging from the PlayStation era to software for contemporary systems like the Switch 2. Eve was lucky enough to get a Switch 2 for her birthday, while Penny still had the original Switch that had released when she was a toddler. Whenever Eve visited Penny, Penny asked Eve if the Switch 2 was coming with her.

While Penny basked in the glory of the retro sections, soaking in the history that emanated from their stylish jewel cases, Eve checked out the Switch 2 section, looking at the Japanese titles with tremendous curiosity. Maaya stuck with Eve, recording her reactions.

Eve spotted a case that featured Princess Rosalina on the cover, with no one else on it other than Lumas.

“What?!” she exclaimed as she lifted up the case.

“That’s Super Princess Rosalina,” Maaya told her in amusement. “You don’t have it in Canada?”

“What? No! If we had this, then I’d have it!”

Eve stared intensely at the box art, her mouth hanging open. It was what she had always dreamed of: a Mario game with 0% Mario and 100% Rosalina. Her brain was suddenly filled with different voices, some encouraging her to buy it (would such a game even have a language barrier?) and others trying to convince her not to spend so much money on the first day (who knows what else she might find?).

Eve was sweating while frozen in place. It was the most Penny-like she had ever felt. Finally, she put the case back on the shelf.

“Maybe I’ll come back for it,” she said to the camera with a smile.

Maaya stopped recording and handed Eve’s phone back to her.

“You’re getting a low battery,” Maaya said. “But you do have enough for a few more videos, if you find something else interesting.”

“In that case, we should find Penny and see how she’s holding up,” Eve suggested. “She’s either completely energised by all the games, or all the games have sapped her energy and left her enfeebled. I can never guess which it’ll be.”

Eve and Maaya located Penny between two CRT monitors, the left one running the attract mode for the first Ryū ga Gotoku (or Yakuza, as she knew it in Canada) and the right running Phantasy Star Universe’s, both on PlayStation 2. Penny was hypnotised by the left screen, its fictionalised depiction of Kabukicho reminding her that, yes, she really was in real-life Tokyo, something she had always dreamed of but never thought would one day become reality.

“Are you ready for the final level?” Maaya asked her.

“I don’t know if my heart can take it,” Penny said half-jokingly.

Maaya looked at her in concern. “Do you have a medical condition?”

“Penny’s medical condition is that she likes games a little too much,” Eve explained to Maaya with a smile.

“I think you’ll survive it,” Maaya told Penny reassuringly. “The last floor is a small arcade and snack shop.”

Maaya led them to the next set of stairs, which had some old prints of atmospheric Katsuya Terada fantasy artwork on display.

“Do you come here a lot?” Eve asked Maaya from behind as they ascended.

“No, but I try to learn the area in order to be helpful to tourists. Not just foreigners, but people visiting from elsewhere in Japan. The more helpful you are, the more likely it is the person you’re helping will get around to the maid café you told them about.”

“But you must like games if you work in Akihabara, right?”

The girls reached the final floor. Maaya turned to Eve and smiled.

“Of course, I like games. I don’t own any consoles, though – I do all my gaming on my phone.”

Eve and Maaya then turned to the spot Penny had been standing, but she was already gone, having disappeared into the arcade without a word.

“Oh, we need to record a video of her playing at a cabinet!” Eve said. “We missed our chance the last place we went.”

Eve and Maaya entered the small arcade in search of Penny. They were immediately struck by the unexpected jungle theme, with fake trees and plants set up around the game cabinets, including vines hanging down from the ceiling. The theming made more sense when they stumbled upon a life-size statue of Naked Snake from Metal Gear Solid 3, who was holding a broken wooden gun. Maaya figured the statue came first, with the jungle aesthetic thrown together afterwards.

Maaya took a picture of Eve as Eve copied Snake’s pose, her gun fingers pointing to the floor at an angle. Unlike Snake’s stoic look, however, Eve had a cheesy smile. She was thinking about how big a surprise the photo would be when she showed it to Penny. Maaya and Eve then exchanged contact information, so Maaya could take pics and vids with her own phone and send them to Eve at the end of the night.

“You’re like an unofficial member of Girls Mode now,” Eve told Maaya happily.

“You can pay me when you’re famous,” Maaya joked.

Eve thought about it for a moment.

“We should be thanking you for your help,” she said seriously. “If you see something really cool, and it’s not super expensive, I can buy it for you.”

Maaya smiled in amusement.

“No, I was only joking,” she said. “Please don’t. I’m happy to show Akiba to people. It’s a passion of mine, since I love it so much.”

“In that case, if you ever come to Canada, I’ll be the one to show you around!”

Maaya smiled warmly.

“I’d like that.”

Eve smiled back.

“We just have to be careful of the shadow people,” she said matter-of-factly while still smiling.

Maaya looked at Eve in confusion, unsure whether she was joking or not. Maaya and Eve then looked at Penny, who had appeared from the next row of cabinets. Penny looked at Eve with a somewhat haunted expression.

“I think something’s wrong with the arcade games in Japan,” she said.

“What do you mean?” Eve asked.

“I . . . I’ll show you,” Penny said. “Make sure you’re recording.”

Penny led the girls down the next aisle as if in slow motion, flicking glances left and right; it was as if she expected a digitised creature to jump out of one of the screens and attack them. Maaya recorded Penny from behind, following her like a camera in a third-person videogame. Maaya was also looking left and right, wondering what it was that had weirded out this shy girl from Canada.

Kandy by Fever Ray was playing over the PA.

Eventually Penny brought Eve and Maaya to the cabinet that had concerned her. The marquee made it clear it was a Marvel vs. Capcom 2 machine, but the screen was rapidly flickering black and white. Two players were sitting on the stools in front of it, their hands on the sticks and buttons, a look of concentration on the left player and a joyful smile on the right.

But their hands weren’t moving, and neither were their bodies, their expressions frozen unblinking on their faces. Maaya recorded the players, and at this point she was a bit freaked-out as well.

“Don’t look at the screens,” Maaya warned Penny and Eve seriously.

Penny and Eve then looked around them, and noticed that all of the screens were now flickering, and every single one of the players was frozen in place. They then glanced at the exit, having noticed some movement in that direction, and spotted one or two women just as they were leaving. They had only caught a glimpse, but they’d swear the figures were wearing black-and-pink maid outfits.

“Is it some type of seizure?” Eve asked Maaya.

“That seems most likely,” Maaya responded.

Maaya leaned down and spoke to the frozen Marvel vs. Capcom 2 players in Japanese, asking if they were okay. The players failed to respond.

“If it’s a seizure, we shouldn’t risk moving them,” Penny offered shakily.

Maaya nodded and contacted emergency services on her phone, explaining the situation as calmly and clearly as she could.

The girls then headed to the snack counter, hoping to find an unfrozen attendant, but the space past the counter was devoid of life, and they didn’t want to head into the small back room uninvited.

Their next thought was to head back down. They exited the arcade and went into the down-only elevator, where the only options were the emergency button and the button for street-level.

“What do you think they’re seeing?” Eve asked Penny curiously.

“What do you mean?” Penny asked back. “It’s just flickering screens.”

“But . . . what if they’re seeing what we saw in the other arcade?” Eve hypothesised. “It wasn’t normal, right? Maybe we were frozen, too.”

Penny looked at Eve, wondering if she was right. Then she looked down, not wanting Eve to see just how anxious she was.

The elevator door opened, and the girls stepped into a dark, shadowy hallway with flowers hand-painted on its wallpaper.

#Warm Blood #Girls Mode #web novel

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thereaderinsertlady · 7 months

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Request Vivian x Reader head canons!

Iiii figure this is for the quest-tober since this was sent in directly after I posted the event! Anyways, ended up making this into a little date fic. Here's the link on ao3, and I hope you enjoy!

Vivian x Reader - First Date

Vivian had always been a bit on the shy side. She was used to lurking in the background, occasionally helping Mario on his adventures from the shadows. However, today was different. Today, she was stepping into the spotlight for a special occasion– a date with you, who had been by her side even after the whole Shadow Queen incident.

The setting sun bathed Glitzville in a warm, golden glow as Vivian waited nervously at the rendezvous point, outside of a quaint little café nestled in the heart of the bustling city. She fidgeted with her purple scarf, wondering if she looked presentable enough. Her shadowy features, normally hidden beneath her hat, were now fully exposed. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and anxiety.

Just as she was beginning to think she had been stood up, you appeared around the corner, glancing around before settling your gaze on her. Vivian's heart skipped a beat as you approached, a warm smile on your face. You wore a smart outfit, a nod to the grandeur of Glitzville, yet still casual enough for a cozy evening.

"Hey, Vivian," you said with a smile, your voice smooth as butter. "You look absolutely stunning– as per usual."

Vivian blushed, her cheeks glowing with a faint, rosy hue. You’d compliment her often, being flirtatious, but your words felt… different today. "Thank you," she stammered, her voice soft. "You look… really nice too."

“I appreciate that,” you smiled. After a moment, you pulled the door to the café open. “Shall we?”

As you both settled into your seats at a corner table by the window, the café's cozy ambiance enveloped the air. Soft jazz music played in the background, creating an intimate atmosphere that seemed to cocoon the two of you from the bustling world outside.

“You know,” you began, browsing through the menu. “I don’t think we’ve ever done anything like this before.”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Going to a little café like this,” you clarified. “I mean, we’ve been to a few parties, celebrations, and restaurants with friends, but nothing like this.”

Vivian hummed in response, peering through her menu. “I suppose you’re right… Do you… enjoy, being with me like this, without our friends?”

You offered a soft smile. “Of course I do. I enjoy talking with you, Vivian, and… being around you in general, too.” You glanced up from your menu. “What are you going to get?”

She was a little startled by your change in topics, still stuck on the first thing you said. “Uhm. I dunno…” She inspected it closely. “Um… there’s a lot of unique words up here… like… um… esc…ar…got?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her pronunciation. “Escargot?”

She smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, that one… What even is a escar…got?”

“Snails. I think they’re boiled.”

“Snails?!” Vivian seemed horrified. “And they’re boiled? Alive?!”

You snickered. “Maybe– I’m not sure how they prepare them.”

Vivian's eyes widened in disbelief. "Oh, I don't think I can handle snails, boiled or otherwise. Um… Let's see... how about we go for something a bit less adventurous?"

You browsed the menu. “Hm… do you know what a croissant is?”

“Fancy bread, right?”

“Sure,” you said, amused. “It says it’s paired with honey-pumpkin butter.”

“I’ll have that then,” she said while putting down her menu. “Do you know what you’re getting?”

You nodded, putting your menu with hers.

After placing your orders with the server, you settled back into your chairs, the conversation flowing effortlessly. You talked about your past adventures together, reminiscing about the thrilling battles and heartwarming moments. Vivian shared stories of her time with the Shadow Sirens and how meeting Mario had changed her life.

"You know," you mused, "I've always admired your abilities. You’re so… skilled, with what you do and how you handle things. Makes me jealous,” you joked.

Vivian's cheeks flushed with pride. "Thank you. It's… something I've always been grateful for. It's... nice to hear that you appreciate it too."

The conversation continued, touching on favorite places in the Mushroom Kingdom, dreams for the future, and even the occasional silly joke. Time seemed to fly by, and before you knew it, the waiter was setting items on the table.

“Oooh… that looks so good,” she practically drooled, poking at her croissant.

You hummed in response, quickly eating some of your food.

As you both indulged in your meals, the conversation never waned. Vivian's initial nervousness had given way to a comfortable camaraderie.

The cozy atmosphere of the café seemed to wrap around you like a warm blanket, making this date feel like a cherished memory in the making. To Vivian, this whole date seemed like it was straight out of a movie.

When the bill came, you immediately placed the correct amount of coins onto the table along with a decent tip.

“Hey, I was gunna pay,” Vivian told you with a pout.

“Not anymore.” You offered her a smirk. “And I’m paying the next time, too.”

“But, but…” Vivian whined. “I can’t just let you pay all the time. I feel like I’m mooching off of you!”

You laughed, standing up from your chair. “Fine, fine… I’ll let you pay next time, if you’re so concerned about it.”

Vivian's expression shifted from a blank stare to relief, and then back to a playful pout. "You better hold onto that promise, or I might just have to sneakily pay without you noticing."

She laughed with you that time, stepping out of the café with you…

“...So, are we heading back to our respective homes?” You asked.

“......Well…” She seemed very meek, looking down at the ground. It was getting a little dark outside, the sun barely peeking over the horizon and the street lights coming on. “I don’t want our date to end…”

You made a thoughtful noise, humming thoughtfully. After a moment you smirked. “You could always come to my place for the night,” you said smoothly. “It’ll be safer walking back to your place alone.”

“Are you sure it’ll be alright?” Vivian asked softly. “I wouldn’t want to intrude…”

“I’d love to have you over,” you told her gently, reaching over and holding her hand. “I don’t want this date to end either…”

Vivian sucked in a steadying breath. “Okay… I’ll…” Her face warmed more, lowering her head. “I’ll go back to your place.”

With Vivian's decision made, the two of you left the cozy café behind and headed towards your abode…

#reader insert #quest tober #vivian ttyd #paper mario ttyd #vivian x reader

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fleurdelanuit13 · 7 months

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FFXIVWRITE 2023: Prompt 30 - Amity

(This takes place after Prompt 29 - Contravention)

Lyla entered an empty library of Haukke Manor and locked the door. The Order of the Twin Adder and Seedseer Council had let her claim this room as her own as thanks for the work that she did to clear voidsent from the area. A crystal ball sat on a table near one of the tallest shelves.

Lyla channeled aether to the tip of her finger and traced a pattern on the ball's surface. Notes played as she touched certain points, and the lower half of a bookshelf parted to reveal a hidden door. Lyla opened it and stepped through to a room that was bigger on the inside. It was decorated with other furnishings from the rest of the manor and beyond.

"Vincenzo!" Lyla called. "I have need of you!"

From the shadows emerged a figure that was at least three times Lyla's height. Purple lantern light shone off the black scales of armor and the silver metal of a large scythe set against a rack. He resembled the voidsent Forneus and forestborn mortals often mistook the two for one another, especially when they saw Vincenzo near the manor.

"What is it, Voidslayer?" Vincenzo asked. "Are you come to test a new spell? Another weapon?"

"Not tonight," Lyla said, though it was not yet dark outside. "I've a target for you."

After she explained the situation and the terms of the arrangement, Vincenzo laughed. "You would ask this of me? Of us?" He referred to the gang of voidsent there that she shared a truce with.

"Numbers would be appreciated," Lyla said.

"Great though your strength may be, appreciation will not satisfy such stipulations. Of this you are aware."

"Appreciation is the bonus, not the payment," Lyla said. "As you arrre aware."

"Oh ho ho ho ho... You offer payment?" Vincenzo grinned.

"For the stipulations," Lyla clarified. "Fail and you get nothing."

The voidsent chuckled. "Yes, that is more like you." Vincenzo picked up a silver bell. It was tiny in his large claws. "Come. Let us speak. I shall summon the others."

Atop a small watchtower set up against a heavenspillar tree in the Shroud, some Keepers stood guard. One looked up at the night sky and saw a sight that made her remove her mask and look again.

"What the hells is that?" she asked.

"Bats?" another asked.

Their archer associate looked up, removed her own mask, and grabbed a telescope. "Those are no mere bats," she said.

A murmuration of bats, birds, moths, and more followed someone on a broom. They sailed upon the wake that spread from the handle as a veil of stardust, painting a sparkling trail across the sky. The spying archer could not tell who led the swarm, only that parts of their mask glowed. As they flew in the light of the moon, something else shimmered alongside them and the creatures. There were wisps, but for a split-second, the archer thought she saw people.

As the archer adjusted the scope to better focus, the flyer drew a black willow cane. Purple aether flowed around it. The flyer was completely obscured by winged shadows and the archer lost sight of them. The swarm was suddenly so much faster. It pulled ahead and split off into different directions. A wave of them poured through the trees. The archer turned to warn her comrades, just in time for all of them to come face to face with a trio of ahriman.

What seemed like hundreds of bats and crows encircled the Keepers' post and the rest of their camp. The archer saw a barrier rain down from the heavenspillar and encompass the entire camp. The air went dark, their masks were flung off, and the last thing the archer remembered was the light in an ahriman's eye as its gaze petrified her.

Steel leg traps sprang to life on the forest floor below, snapping at everyone around. They herded the hunters to the edges of the camp. Veils of shadow fell and merged around the inner camp and prevented the Keepers' re-entry. As if that weren't enough to trap them between the barriers, several wisps appeared and spectral huntresses stepped forth from their flames.

Some of the swarm swept down the newly cleared path to the Keepers' den. Others got in through the natural hole in the roof. Those inside stood no chance against them, least of all their mark. Not even their screams could escape.

A cyclone of fiery darkness surrounded the den and Silenced all mortals within. Vincenzo descended in the moonlight, flanked by ghosts who radiated naught but fury. It flowed across their bodies and weapons, which were all trained on the Coeurlclaw King. The Claws with him backed away.

Vincenzo extended his wings and pointed his scythe at the poacher. "You who have wrought such suffering and strife," he bellowed, "extirpation is nigh. We come for your wretched soul. Long has it festered, long has it sown seeds of woe and distress. We shall reap this bounty of blood and death for all who keep you."

One of the spirits took aim at the Claws with King Poach. Their arrow looked like a frozen moonbeam. "Leave," they hissed, "lest you desire to join him." The Claws, who felt as though their hearts would soon be shot out with ice, chose wisely and abandoned the despot.

At Urth's Fount, as Menphina shone down upon them, a group of Moon Keeper spirits and disguised voidsent guarded the area. Deeply concentrating, Lyla knelt by the largest cluster of opalescent crystal and petrified wood, the one said to have held the Dark Rider in ages past.

Lyla held her cane with one hand and touched the crystal with the other. The tip of the cane was in the ground, right where soil met water. The crystal was covered in ice. It, the cane, and the water all shone from her aether. Even the water sprites glowed.

Lyla had almost frozen the entire pool and its falls in her effort to keep the elementals calm. The waters there flowed to the most crucial for her and the crystals held aether as moss did water. She need only relieve them of it and redistribute the energy.

Umbral ice motes floated around her, restoring some of her aether. Lyla removed her hand from the crystal and took a short respite. Her breath misted in the air and her palms stung from the cold.

"Eyes up, niece," said a spectral hunter watching the sky. Lyla felt the frost from their cloak as they swept past her. She looked up. The swarm of ghosts and voidsent flew down into Urth's Gift. Wing-flaps rippled the layer of unfrozen water atop the ice. Vincenzo landed and set down a large gibbet cage of iron.

Lyla recognized it as one from the basement of Haukke Manor. In it was King Poach, bereft of Claws and weapons, bleeding as a magicked trap held fast to the leg it had snapped. His yells of pain and whatever else were muffled by a gag of cloth reinforced with spidersilk, which also wrapped up the rest of him.

"Your prey," Vincenzo said. "Alive, for the most part unharmed, as are the rest. Unlike this one, their feet did not find themselves tiny jaws." Magicked traps bounced around Vincenzo like little dogs. "Ascertain at your leisure. Forget not our agreement."

"You know I won't," Lyla said. "Thank you."

Vincenzo grunted affirmatively. With that, he, the other voidsent, and the traps took off, leaving the ghosts behind with her.

"He speaks true," reassured one of the spirits.

"Good hunting," said another. "Leave the rrrest to us. We shall judge them fairrrly."

"Pray do not forget our deal as well," a third told Lyla, who now had a list of meals to prepare as offerings for the group. "I very much look forward to it."

"And," said a fourth, "give your family our love. Remind Fheli she still owes me a song, but only do so after you finish cooking."

"Of course," Lyla said, nodding. Her muscles ached as she stood and bowed respectfully to the spirits in their shared clan's way. "Thank you so much for aiding me in this."

"Do not hesitate to call upon us again," said the one who'd called her niece. "We will answerrr."

"And do not worrrry about disturrrbing us," the second one said. Lyla could tell they smiled beneath their mask. "We arrre rrrestless for a rrreason, afterrr all."

Some time later at the Adders' Nest, Lyla sat in a room with Grand Serpent Marshall Swethryk Brookstone, Captain of the Wood Wailers Swethyna Brookstone, High Serpent Commander Vorsaile Heuloix, and Seedseer Raya-O-Senna. Others included Moogles and Lyla's great-aunt Fheli Sylvie, who was a member of the Black Boars and a former 1st Bow of the Quiver's Scorpions.

A lower-ranking Adder, whom Lyla remembered once saving at Haukke Manor, read from a document. "Lyla Sylvie, you have been accused of torture, kidnapping, attempted murder, inciting elementals, ritual summoning of voidsent and other beings, and the use of said malevolent forces to commit the aforementioned..."

The Adder paused. By their face and the way they quickly glanced at the commanders, who did not react, Lyla guessed the parchment's next contents were a surprise. She wondered why they were making this Adder read it out in the first place.

"But as testimonies of your actions have been received, you have just rid the Twelveswood of a notorious poacher and other threats, and your main accusers are currently in custody with several others, you are not under arrest."

The Adder cleared their throat. "Erm, on the contrary, the Order of the Twin Adder thanks you for your dedicated service and cooperation in this endeavor, and you are to be promoted." They looked up from the letter and gave Lyla a hasty Serpent salute. "Congratulations, lieutenant."

The Grand Marshall and High Commander gave better salutes. Lyla saluted in return, but all of this felt strange and rushed to her, especially with dragging a random Adder into it. She didn't need to be a Hearer to sense that there was much left unsaid.

Lyla made eye contact with Raya-O, but the Padjal only shrugged with her eyes, then smoothed a lock of hair behind her ear to say they would speak later. Perhaps this was somehow the best option the Adders had for this situation. It wouldn't be the first time Gridanian authorities had done that in response to something she did, but Lyla would not find out any details staying at the Nest.

She went over to Fheli, who'd just finished speaking with the Brookstone siblings. "Auntie," Lyla said, as if she was about to leap into a lake, "I need your help cooking."

Fheli furrowed her brow as Lyla handed her the offerings list. She read one line of it, scowled a little, and said, "Yes... You certainly do."

#aka whatever happened to the coeurlclaw king?#obviously this is extremely late but whatever #i know those fates exist but those're his fate in some other universe #lyla sylvie ffxiv #ffxivwrite2023

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ready-steady-freddie · 2 years

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Dagger Squad Does Karaoke

Based on this original post below by @beachbabey, I decided to write a quick little thing about Dagger Squad doing karaoke. It's silly and short but I love the idea of them doing karaoke ❤️ not beta'ed!

Word count: 1,1K

"Alright, alright! Another round of applause for that awesome performance!" The crowd cheered again as the singing couple jumped off the stage with huge smiles on their faces. "Next up is, uh … Fanboy? And … Sparkles!"

"That's us!" I squeaked with excitement and grabbed Fanboy's hand to get up on the tiny stage in front of the large, blank screen.

Fanboy handed me a microphone and grinned. "You do Stevie, I'll do Lindsey, the live version?"

"As always," I replied with a grin to match his.

We waited patiently as the intro to the song started, the sound of the iconic guitar riff filling the small room. The crowd smiled and cheered when they realised which song we were going to sing. I slapped the palm of my free hand against my thigh in rhythm with the bass in lieu of a tambourine.

I glanced at Fanboy as the first words appeared on the screen behind us and we sang in unison, "Listen to the wind blow, watch the sun rise

Run in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies."

Doing mainly harmony vocals meant I had time to drink beer every so often while Fanboy did his thing. It always surprised me how good he was at singing, even in the higher notes, and he absolutely loved being on stage. The crowd adored him, too, and I couldn't help myself but adore him as well.

The middle solo came sneaking up on me while I was busy making funny eyes at Phoenix and Bob. Suddenly Fanboy grabbed my hand to spin me around, faster and faster as the guitar, bass and drums all melted into one glorious symphony. I felt nauseous, all the beer and drinks from earlier rising to my throat.

"Fanboy, I'm gonna puke!" I laughed into the microphone and grabbed his shoulders. The crowd laughed and cheered. I stumbled to the edge of the stage, grabbing onto a chair to catch my breath. Fanboy closed off the song to roars of approval and applause and he came to me immediately after, Phoenix close behind him with a glass of water.

"Are you okay?" he asked with the biggest grin on his handsome face. Phoenix urged me to drink the water.

I nodded with a mouth full of water. "Yes! Oh my god, you were so good!"

"Stop," he said, rolling his eyes with slight embarrassment. "I couldn't have done it without you."

"Sure," I said sarcastically - but I appreciated the sentiment anyway. We jumped off stage together and joined the rest of the Dagger Squad at the bar.

"Sparkles, I was disappointed that we weren't blessed with your digestive pyrotechnics," Hangman said with a grin and offered me a beer. I had to decline. "That would've been impressive."

"Yeah, can you just imagine …" I made a funnel with my hands around my mouth and spun around myself. "Absolutely awful."

"Yes! What a song! Next up is Rooster - what is it with these nicknames? - singing Aerosmith's I don't want to miss a thing!"

I made my way to the front of the room with Coyote, Phoenix and Bob in tow. Rooster was alone on stage, looking down at his feet with a pained expression as the intro played, microphone held to his chest. He was definitely feeling it.

"I could stay awake just to hear you breathing

Watch you smile while you are sleeping

While you're far away and dreaming."

I felt an arm snake around my waist and I looked up, surprised to see it belonged to Bob. I didn't know if he was drunk (for once) or sober, but he certainly looked the former. He had a little trouble focusing on my eyes and his slightly dopey smile revealed that he wasn't his usual, controlled self.

"Will you dance with me, Sparkles?" he asked.

"Bob, are you drunk?" I chuckled.

"Yeah," he grinned, "Just a little bit, though. Not too much."

"I'd love to dance with you."

He took my hand in his and I placed the other on his shoulder. We stood chest to chest, singing along to Rooster's emotional, over-pitched version of his chosen song. We swayed once in a while, giggling when we couldn't keep our balance. We hooted Rooster's name and received a wink back from him.

We pulled away from each other slightly but still attached at the hips. Keeping one arm around the other's body, I swung my arm out and dragged it back to my chest to clutch my hand there. I was definitely feeling it, too. I looked over at Phoenix to see her documenting the whole thing on her phone. I would be regretting this - lovingly - in the morning.

"I don't wanna close my eyes

I don't wanna fall asleep

'Cause I'd miss you, baby

And I don't wanna miss a thing."

Rooster was on his knees now, reaching up to the ceiling and out towards the audience. Everyone around me sang and screamed along with the words and Rooster soaked it all up. His eyes lit up even more and his smile was genuine and breathtaking. You could tell he was used to performing - and he loved it.

Rooster ended the song on a quiet note that fit the number rather well, and I ended it with both my hands on Bob's beautiful face and my lips on his reddening cheek in a drunken kiss.

"I love you, Bobby," I declared as the crowd screamed for more Rooster. I was buzzing on the atmosphere of the crowd, alcohol, my friends and life. I was happy.

"Thanks for the dance," Bob said, smiling shyly.

"Any time, you know that."

"What a powerful performance! Next duo on stage," the manager's voice boomed, "is Payback and Hangman!"

I shifted from Bob to Phoenix as Payback and Hangman took to the stage, smirks on both of their gorgeous faces. I didn't immediately recognise the song by the intro, but I did once they started singing, Payback taking the lead.

"Listen, baby

Ain't no mountain high, ain't no valley low

Ain't no river wide enough, baby."

Hangman promptly took over and sang,

"If you need me, call me

No matter where you are, no matter how far."

I had never heard either of them sing before, but it blew my mind to hear them together like this. They switched between singing solo and as a duo - and they complemented each other so well. Phoenix started laughing at the absurd sense it made for them to sing this song together. I put my arm around her shoulders and we sang along to the words on the screen.

Payback and Hangman received the loudest cheer of the night as they finished the song, holding hands as they took a bow. They knew they deserved the praise from the audience - but, oh, they would be insufferable for the rest of the evening.

#Top Gun Maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #Robert Bob Floyd #Mickey Fanboy Garcia #reuben payback fitch #natasha phoenix trace #bradley rooster bradshaw #Jake Hangman Seresin #Dagger Squad #Dagger Squad does karaoke

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