#ethereal-wishes beta

[arcielee]

The Dragon and the Wolf

Summary: “...perhaps the fire of a Targaryen prince is what is needed to thaw out your heart.” Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Stark!Reader Word Count: 2700+ Warnings: Reader AFAB, kissing, oral (f receiving), loss of virginity, slight overstimulation, creampie. Author’s Note: This was the poll winner! 💜 Thank you to my lovelies @aemondsbabe and @valeskafics for helping me brainstorm the title. No beta, my mistakes are my own and I am woefully sorry for them all. This will be a series of one-shots of the moments between Prince Aemond Targaryen and his Northern bride-to-be (which I pulled from my OC!Stark x Aemond Targaryen story, but whatever). There will be fluff and there will be smut. Enjoy!

You could feel the panicked gaze from your handmaiden, her visceral exasperation spilling as she watched you pace the room, but you could not hold still. 

Not tonight, not after that kiss.

She begged until you finally allowed her to help you change into your nightgown, despite how your skin felt aflame. She then took your hand to lead you to the vanity to sit, to hold still, to allow her to brush and braid your hair for bed, just as she had every night since you first arrived to the Red Keep months ago.

You had traveled from Winterfell at the behest of your brother, a promise to see through what the late King Jaehaerys failed to accomplish: to solidify the bond between the North and South kingdoms. Cregan saw no harm with the capital’s proposal, as you had already scorned all of the Northern lords who called for your hand. 

“Who knows, sister,” his eyes twinkled just as your father’s had when he was still alive, “perhaps the fire of a Targaryen prince is what is needed to thaw out your heart.” 

You had scoffed, but soon realized how right Cregan had been, that you were enamored from the moment you met Aemond. The rest of the Keep seemed to fade away as you watched him, his imposing severity that settled into the sharp contours of his face and in the way he held himself. He towered you; he watched you with his one eye, a lovely lavender that flitted over you, while the other was hidden beneath a leather patch with the wrathful scar that curled above and below. 

You remembered the touch of his hand–his palm calloused and warm and gentle–when he took your own; you recalled the spill of silver as he leaned forward and the softness of his lips against your knuckles with his kiss. Even his low timbre soothed you as he repeated your name; the introduction left you blood rising to the surface. 

Your courtship with the prince was something to be displayed–an ailing king’s desperate grasp at legacy. Aemond played the role of the perfect, regal gentlemen, but you wished to pull him away from the prying eyes of the court, to learn everything about the infamous one-eyed Targaryen prince.

There were stolen moments scattered with Aemond and you collected them piece by piece, but still you were rarely, if ever, allowed a moment to be truly alone with him. 

It was not until the crowned princess returned to the capital, and the chaos that followed and ruined the family supper, that you were able to follow after Aemond, out into the gardens of the Red Keep. 

You recognized his silhouette at once, and moved closer until you saw his ethereal glow from how the moon poured over him. Your tone was soft at first, a teasing kindness until you saw the upwards curl of his lips, and you dared giggle with your encouragement that he should teach you swear words that would best describe his nephews in High Valyrian. 

And then something changed, something shifted. Aemond stepped closer and you felt the cool night air pull away, enveloped by his warmth, the scent of smoke and leather and sandalwood. His palm moved to cup the side of your face and then he kissed you. 

This was your first truly intimate moment you shared with your betrothed. And it was also your first kiss. 

You sighed sweetly in his mouth, a kindled passion that thrummed from where his hands touched your hips, his hold to pull you closer only to quickly recoil once one of the Cargyll knights finally found you both. 

The White Cloak then escorted you back to your quarters, your steps lead-filled, and here you were expected to sit still as your handmaiden fret over your hair. 

But you could not sit still, hence why your slippered foot tapped the stone floor, your heart pounding violent against your chest as that kiss in the garden replayed in your mind…

“Please, my lady,” your handmaiden squeaked, the ivory comb tangling in your hair.

Your hands flared out to ward off her touch, your tone cutting. “Thank you, but that is enough. You are relieved from your duties for the rest of the night,” you stood up, pushing the poor girl and sending her stumbling towards the door. 

Her eyes were wide. “I–I have not finished with–” 

“I have hands of my own,” you grabbed the silk robe to cover yourself, “I shall manage,” and when you turned to step towards the girl once more, she squeaked again. She moved to open the door and paused to see Prince Aemond already poise, his one arm tucked behind his back and the other lifted as if he meant to knock. 

It was an eternal silence; Aemond looked startled, but his gaze eventually found yours, and you stared back, unabashed, burning from the sight of him. 

Meanwhile your handmaiden, mortified, shrank to slip past the prince and leave.

Only when you heard the soft sound of the door closing behind did you find the courage to move towards Aemond, reaching for his tunic and pulling him close. You fell into him, your lips hungry for his own and he returned your passion before slowing to savor, his tongue running your bottom lip and then curling into your mouth. 

It continued until your breath was an exchange between, his exhale becoming your inhale and trilling through your veins, pumping your heart. Your mind was clouded with his proximity–you felt giddy and your hands twisted into his tunic to hold yourself upright. 

He hummed, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you flushed against his chest. A shy sigh spilled when you felt his length pressing through the fabric and against your stomach, a bolt of warmth and want curling together. But your passion was replaced with a trepidation, something that now curdled instead. 

You broke the kiss, a rosiness spilling from your lips to your cheeks, to the tip of your nose: “I lost my maidenhead on horseback.” You felt your blood thicken with your confession. “But I have never been…” 

The words would not come, but Aemond did not need them. Instead he closed the little space you created, his warm palms moving to cup your face and bring you back to capture your lips with a tender kiss. 

“I will be gentle,” his low timbre promised. “I do not wish to hurt you.” 

You believed him, as you had seen his actions that spoke far louder during your time at the capital. He had always shown you a careful consideration since the courtship began, but now you found that you could not wait another moment. 

Your fingers pulled at the silk robe you had thrown on, allowing it to slip from your shoulders and puddle onto the floor. Your hands moved to the lacing that lined the front of your nightgown, but you paused, pinned under the lavender of his eye. 

His chest rose and fell with his steadied breath a moment before he offered his hands, his slender fingers gentle to loosen the ties. Aemond stopped to place kisses on the slope of your shoulder, your chest, a soft tickle of his lips as more of your skin was bared to him. 

You felt vibrant, ignited by his touch, and you looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, admiring the flush of rose that now stained his skin. You pulled at your skirts, grabbing the bottom hem and peeling it over, dropping it into the silk puddle already at your feet. 

Lust now swallowed the lavender, but Aemond only hummed his admiration as his gaze slowly dragged from your face, following your curves and then returning to meet with your eyes again. 

“Gevie,” he mused with a slight curl to his lips. 

You burned, cursing your Septa for the little Valyrian she indulged to teach you, too shy to ask now for a translation, but bold enough to reach for him. Your fingers touched the buckles of his tunic. Aemond hummed again as you began to undress him, until he was bare from the waist up, and the heat that pooled from him now seeped and curled into your core. 

His form was lean, taut, with a muscular definition and its decoration of silver scars scattered across his chest and his abdomen. Your fingers trailed the lines that cut into his trimmed waist, and then you stepped closer to press a soft kiss to the right side of his jaw. 

Aemond caught your chin, bringing your lips to meet with his own again. His kiss was drawn out, wringing the air from your lungs but still so gentle that you could not help but melt into his chest, into the warmth that he embodied. 

Your fingers reached to touch his jaw but paused, a hovering hesitation. He took your hand and brought it back to cradle against his chest, watching you. You swallowed. “Aemond, please,” you began slowly, your voice careful, “I wish to see all of you.”

His jaw steeled with your request, tense for that moment but then he reached with his other hand to remove the eyepatch. The crimson seemed bolder, brighter, cutting through from his brow and into his cheek, and you also saw that placed in his scarred socket was a sapphire stone that glittered in the amber light of the room. 

You pressed to your tiptoes, your fingertips touching to tilt his jaw down and you pressed a kiss beneath, your lips careful to trail his maim before placing another against his cheek. “Ñuha zaldrīzes,” but you were slow with the only Valyrian you knew, and finished with another kiss to his lips. 

My dragon. 

His expression was unreadable, and for a moment you believed that you had ruined the practiced pronunciation. But then Aemond moved to wrap his arms back around your waist, his face burying into the softness of your neck and his hands grabbing into the curves of your hips. Your laughter spilled as you felt him lift you enough for your feet to not touch the stone floors, your arms wrapping around his neck, and Aemond moved with wide steps, bringing you back towards your bedside. 

You fell back onto the mattress, looking up at him. His neck bobbed as his eye followed the pink hues that now spilled from your cheeks to your neck and onto your chest. Your nipples were peaked and your eyes shone bright as he stepped closer, climbing onto the bed and moving on top of you.

He tucked his head to trace the slope of your neck with his lips and your back arched with the desire to feel his chest against your bare skin, a fluttered moan spilling from you. Aemond moved lower, placing warm, open mouthed kisses that scorched your skin, with a warmth that was pouring into your core. 

Aemond continued lower, his silver tresses spilling and tickling your skin as he moved between your plush thighs. You mewled with the touch of his lips to the inside, and your thighs squeezed to stop him. 

You are breathless. “It tickles.” 

He only hummed, reaching to press his hand onto your stomach, a comforting touch as his fingers traced abstract lines on your skin. “Let me,” and his exhale was titillating as he nestled back between. 

Aemond was careful with his touch, just as he always showed himself to be. He was aware of your every sound and sigh, pacing himself with a slow rhythm that began to build until his clever tongue had you pinned to the mattress. 

You blossomed with bated breath, grabbing fistfuls of the bed linen to ground yourself from falling into the trance of his ministrations. You felt a prod at your entrance, his finger curling within, and your pleasure fluttered up your spine. It was too much and you writhed from his mouth, but his other hand moved underneath your thigh, gripping into your soft flesh, halting you. 

Let me.

Aemond quickened his pace, encouraged by your quiet pants, from how your heartbeat now pulsed around the digits that were knuckle deep in you. You felt Aemond pulling you towards a precipice that was consuming, a warmth that crashed against and spilled throughout. Your heart still bruised against your ribs from the cresting tremors of your fading pleasure, and only then did you notice it. 

How Aemond grinned smugly against your wet cent. 

You reached with boneless fingers that tangled into his silver hair, pulling him back so you could capture his mouth that now glistened with you. It was your own bittersweet taste on his lips and you felt emboldened to grab his waistband. When your fingers brushed against his heavy bulge that pressed the crotch of his slacks, a sweeping shyness returned. 

He pulled back with a sly smile, removing them before he moved back on top. His arms cage you to the bed and your skin rose with how his breath fanned against your cheeks. “I do not wish to hurt you,” he repeated after a moment, but his heavy hesitation lifted as you pulled him into the cradle of your hips.  

You sighed from how he molded into the softness of your body, and Aemond gave another savoring kiss. “Please, Aemond,” your eyes wet from your want, and his head dipped to watch as he grabbed the base, careful to line himself with your entrance. 

Aemond paused with a new trepidation that settled along the rose hues that dusted his sharp features. You squirmed beneath him, searching for friction, to feel the blunt press of his cockhead against your silken folds. 

“Aemond,” you now plead, a honeyed whisper, another kiss to encourage him, “I want you.” 

He watched you as he pressed forward, and you felt a stretch, a fullness as his hips moved against yours. You tensed from the new sensation, your nails biting and leaving red crescent marks that startled against the white of his skin. 

Aemond stilled at once, allowing you a moment to adjust, his brow furrowed with his concern. You then let out a soft exhale before tilting your chin to give him a kiss, a promise that you were fine. 

And only then did Aemond move, slowly, carefully, with each gentle thrust that split you further as he sheathed himself fully within you. It rekindled a deeper passion, and your eyes widened with a small gasp; he dipped his head to press his lips to your neck, decorating the column with his kisses, your pulse thrumming beneath. It began to ripple through you and your thighs tightened around his slender waist, beckoning him closer still. 

“Aemond,” you gasped.

He hummed his acknowledgement, pushing himself up. He used one arm for balance while his other hand moved to press onto your hip, his palm trailing closer to your bloom above, his thumb moving in circles. 

You felt raw, sensitive still from before, and something sparked with his touch. The air was thick and caught in your throat; a passion spilled from you without the same tensity from the first time, though still with a melody that played sweetly throughout your veins. 

Your velvet walls clenched with your climax and it pulled Aemond after. He groaned his own release, melting against you and burying his face back into the curve of your neck. You gasped again from how he pulsed between your legs, his heart rattling through to your bones. 

After a moment,  Aemond rolled to the side, his chest expanding to catch his breath before he reached to pull you to curl against him, equally breathless and aglow. Your arm was thrown across, your face pressed against to feel the rhythm of his heart, his seed spilling onto your thigh; his fingers began to trace patterns on your skin. 

He leaned to press another kiss to your hairline, and he whispered the same word from before. “Gevie.” 

“What does that mean?” You cannot help your grin, tilting your head back to look at him. 

His other hand came round, a finger pressed to your cheek to look at you. “Beautiful,” he said and then he gave you another kiss. 

Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @sylasthegrim @fan-goddess @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @girlwith-thepearlearring @theobjectofyourire @troublesomesnitch @multyfangirl @darylandbethfanforever9 @snowprincesa1 @officerbrowneyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @hb8301 @namelesslosers

arcie's masterlist

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #stark!reader #the dragon and the wolf

[fayes-fics]

Lessons in Breeding

Lessons Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader (threesome)

Summary: Fifth story in the Regency Lessons series and it's time-jump time. Things have progressed with our throuple and the Bridgerton Bros are in a race to impregnate their lady…

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, MMF threesome, BREEDING KINK off the bloody charts, pregnancy kink, dirty talk, oral sex (m to f), light bondage, filthy baby-making vaginal sex, dom/sub dynamics. Emotions, talk of marriages, established throuple dynamics.

Word Count: 5.4k

Authors Note: This is set in Lessons universe, but at least a year after the previous instalment. If pregnancy or babymaking isn't your thing, please don't read this. This is a very belated birthday request fill for @iboopedyournose. I hope you like the way I've interpreted your request for breeding kink threesome with bondage. Thanks to @colettebronte and @chaoticcalzoneranchsports for betaing. Enjoy! <3

You pause in front of the portrait of a naked pregnant woman, taking a sip of your champagne. The intimate parts of her are mostly obscured behind translucent silks. Her pregnant belly is bare as she cradles it proudly, her skin glowing; everything about her looks almost ethereal yet so earthy and powerful. It is such a provocative piece you can understand why it is only being shown at private parties such as this one, hosted by Mr Granville.

“Like what you see?” the dusky voice suddenly at your right ear asks.

You inhale sharply, instantly responding to the mere sound of his voice, something very Pavlovian in it. “Yes, I think she looks beautiful,” you reply quietly, tamping down your need to throw yourself into him, begging for his fingers in your mouth.

“She does indeed,” he is standing so close behind you can feel the heat radiating off him through his shirt. “Would you like to look like that? Swollen so beautifully with a baby?”

It's not something you have thought about much beyond the abstract idea that you wish for children someday. But then, so many things in your life are about to change, and this could be one.

“Maybe,” you deflect.

Large hands encircle your waist. “Mmm, just imagine,” he begins, his chest pressing warm on your spine. “How beautiful you would look, your belly all rounded,” his hands slide up and cup your chest as you moan lightly. “Your breasts so full, and oh gosh,” one hand slides down to the apex of your thighs, cradling it through your dress, “the smell and taste of you, so ripe, so juicy. You would be divine,” he assures.

“Stop,” you scold gently, but it's too breathy, the carnal images he so easily paints with his words haunting you as you rock in his arms.

“Would you like me to impregnate you, my darling?” he murmurs, his teeth pulling at your earlobe. “I could fuck you so hard and deep and leave my seed inside you. Over and over. And you know my brother would do the same in a heartbeat.”

Your breath quickens at the thought. They have always been careful to ensure they do not release inside you; it's a strict pact you have in place that they have always respected and obeyed. But perhaps that may change with what is impending.

“My husband-to-be, you mean,” your eyes cut sideways, and he stiffens.

“Yes, of course, I sometimes forget you are soon to be the Viscountess,” he bows his head, a flare of something in his eyes you know is jealousy.

“Benedict…” you sigh, sensing he needs reassurance; you pull him into a quiet alcove. “You know this is the only way the three of us can be together, for always. I love you just as much,” you vow quietly, touching his cheek. “But you know well I cannot marry you both, at least not in the eyes of the law. There would be many questions if Anthony were to remain unwed much longer. You know it is much easier for you to live with us as an apparent bachelor at Aubrey Hall than any other arrangement.”

All the facts you lay out, well known to you both, don’t stop the imploring look he gives you. 

“I will marry you symbolically in a ceremony in the woods, down by the lake,” you whisper, appealing to his bohemian romantic side. “I will wear your ring proudly, too,” you promise. “I am as much yours as I am his. And always will be. I cannot be without either of you.”

He beams and crowds into you, sliding his lips down your neck.

“And yes, I will bear your children, my love,” you sigh as his actions make you pliant in his hands, as they always do. You grab his face to ensure he meets your gaze, his eyes dancing. “Nothing would make me prouder than bearing both of your babies, so yes, my love, the answer is yes.”

You moan gently as he kisses fire across your skin, and your eyes drift back to the painting, the idea of being fertile, ripe, burgeoning with life somehow suddenly so alluring. 

——

“Anthony…” you call, but he does not respond; he probably cannot hear you above the whirlwind of activity around him. “ANTHONY!” you repeat, raising your voice, and suddenly, the hubbub of movement and noise in the room ceases.

His eyes meet yours and flash. “Everyone leave the room at once,” he orders to the hordes of people doing god knows what, “my fiancee wishes to speak with me.”

You watch as all the people scurry from the room as if burned.

“There was no need to send them away quite so abruptly, my love,” you state gently.

“Is this not an occasion where you wish me to throw you upon my desk and rut you so hard you scream?” he flirts outrageously.

“For once,” you respond airily, “it is not.”

“Tis a pity,” he smirks, then perches against the desk, crossing his legs and arms. “Then what can I do for you, my love?”

“I want you to make me with child,” you just go straight to the point. He usually appreciates bluntness.

He drops the heavy accounts ledger he is holding, and it slams to the ground with an echoing thump.

“Correction, I want you AND Benedict to make me with child,” you amend.

“What on earth brought this on?” his tone warm but intrigued, ignoring the ledger completely.

“That art party we went to last night?” you offer casually. “There was a scandalous but beautiful portrait of a pregnant naked woman.”

“Did he fuck you in front of it and give you some ideas?” Anthony sighs with fond exasperation.

“No,” you giggle, “for once, he did not.”

“But Tuesday is your night alone together?” Anthony frowns. “Don’t tell me he shirked his duty? I am his older brother. I can have words….”

“Oh, he more than performed his duty, just not in front of the painting,” you clarify.

“In front of one of his paintings, then?” Anthony guesses.

And you giggle again. “Carriage, on the way home.”

“Figures,” Anthony rolls his eyes, “does he ever do it in a bed?”

“Not if he can help it,” you wink, and he laughs.

Then schools his face more serious. “So you want a baby?”

“I want both of your babies. I’d certainly be open to us all getting some good practice in tomorrow,” you shrug playfully.

“I have absolutely no problem with that,” his voice drops low as he raises a sultry eyebrow. “And the desk offer still stands if you want a warm-up?” he concludes, breaking into a handsome smirk.

“It’s Wednesday, our rest day; I have dinner plans with my dear friend Lady Eleanor,” you shake your head fondly. “Plus, I cannot give you a head start, darling; that wouldn’t be fair to Benedict,” you tease. “You can sort it out between yourselves for tomorrow.”

“Why do we have a rest day?” he pouts.

“You know full well, with three people, it is much easier to schedule around six days. I can go one day without either of you, you know,” rolling your eyes lovingly.

“Such a pity,” he sighs in mock annoyance.

“It is just for today, darling, and tomorrow you may complete inside me, so there’s that to look forward to…” and you breeze out of the room, blowing him a kiss.

——

Thursday night is one of your two nights a week with both of your wonderful men. 

You spend the early evening bathing in luxury soaps with your favourite scents, readying yourself for a night of untold pleasures. Sometimes you all meet in the bedroom, sometimes in the blue room, and other times, like tonight, you agree to al fresco. You cannot wait to play by the lake under the mid-summer moonlight.

You slip on an ivory silk robe and nothing else except the lariat body chains they each gave you. Dainty gold chains with their initials that wrap around your waist, the A and B matching charms hanging low over your belly, grazing your thatch of hair below—a secret you wear every day unseen beneath your usual clothing.

It’s a balmy evening as you approach the water's edge. There is already a soft blanket laid out and a decanter of brandy with three glasses—Anthony has ensured the staff have prepared for the evening. But neither man is to be seen yet. You settle on the blanket and pour yourself a snifter, enjoying the gentle roar of oil lantern flames dancing in the breeze set out on surrounding stakes.

This evening will be a first, letting them both leave their seed within you. Even though you have been together as a threesome for more than a year and done countless wonderful sensual things together, this is a huge step towards something new. You don’t expect to get pregnant on this first attempt, but the idea is beguiling nonetheless.

You pull open your robe and massage your as-yet-empty belly. Running your hands in swirls, imagining what it might be like to watch it grow and swell with a child—the ability to bring life into the world something so elemental and heavenly all at once. To sustain life through the wonder of your body swirls in your mind as you untie your robe and grab your breasts. 

“I see someone started the party already, brother,” a familiar silky voice rings out, and your eyes pop open to see both of them standing there, watching you lasciviously. They are shirtless and only wear britches slung low around their hips, acres of lithe muscle and supple skin.

“Is that not our job, darling?” Anthony chimes in after his brother, already unbuttoning.

“Not that we aren’t enjoying the show,” Benedict adds pointedly, nudging Anthony as if to shut him up, and follows suit, removing his trousers.

When they both let their britches fall to the ground, you moan, seeing them both in all their resplendent naked glory, already half hard and looking so utterly delicious part of you wants to get on your knees and take them into your mouths. You go to crawl towards them, but Antony holds up a halting hand. 

“Stay right where you are, lay back; tonight is about your pleasure, darling,” he practically purrs. 

Your eyes flash with desire, and you do as told, removing your robe and laying back again, fully nude, running fingertips down the centre line of your torso, fingers playing with their jewelled charms that rest atop your lower belly.

“Then get down here,” you exhale, knowing their gaze is locked on your fingers as you slip them between your thighs.

They drop onto the blanket with you, the light breeze ruffling their chestnut locks. Both are so achingly beautiful with those strong Bridgerton genes. You can’t wait to bear a baby, babies, that look just like them.

They exchange a glance, and it’s their shorthand again—where they silently communicate how they will destroy you masterfully moment by moment. Benedict surges up and captures your lips in a passionate all-consuming kiss as Anthony slips between your legs, pulling your hand away and throwing your feet over his shoulders. Forcing your legs out wide, he laps a determined, deep plough of tongue all the way from the base of your slit up to your pulsing clit. It has you calling loudly into his brother's mouth.

“You taste fertile, my darling wife-to-be,” Anthony groans lewdly and pointedly, and you can’t help but giggle across Benedict’s lips. 

“I am certain he is right,” Benedict smiles affectionately, swallowing your noises. “I swear I can smell the difference when you are ripe for us. Your scent is just a little headier, muskier; it makes my cock even harder than normal,” he ponders, kissing across your face as he utters his trademark filth. He knows just a few choice words can have you ready for him—every single damn time. 

Anthony’s hand strays up to play with your belly charms as his tongue unfurls its magic. It doesn’t matter that you are with these two men, individually and together, multiple times a week; they never fail to arouse you to the point of aching with just a few expertly deployed moves. Their tongues, whether talking dirty or teasing your body, are your favourite part of them. Benedict shuffles lower and sucks one of your nipples into his mouth. Oh god, yes, it’s definitely their tongues. 

“Darling, are we playing tonight, or are we just us?” Benedict asks, looking up from your chest with gentle eyes. Sometimes you like to play with your power dynamic and use your titles, other times since you have grown closer, you are just yourselves, no masks, no games, just you, Ant and Ben, your affectionate shortened names for them.

You stop Anthony’s ministrations between your legs with a tap on his shoulder, wanting his full attention on this question that Benedict poses.

“What would you prefer, my loves?” You ask them, ruffling Benedict's hair, enjoying the feel of its thickness running between your fingers and squeezing Anthony’s shoulder lovingly.

“I want to be Ben, just your husband-to-be,” Benedict says quietly, and you can’t help the little smile that breaks out. “This is where we will get married,” he asserts, looking around, “under the stars, just like this.”

“Yes, my darling,” you confirm happily, “I want that.”

“How about you, Ant, my love? Would you like to be you, or perhaps my lord or my beautiful boy?” you inquire.

“I want to be Ant, your fiancé,” he nods in agreement with Benedict’s idea. “Tonight, my darling wife-to-be, the only lesson is how to breed you like the wondrous Bridgerton you are about to become.”

“Breed me?” You inhale, wanting to be insulted by the term but finding it makes your clit burn hot.

“Oh yes,” Benedict chimes in, “we are going to breed you, darling. You will sire a whole house of Bridgertons. You will never be without our seed—it will be dripping from you every day.”

“Ben,” you stutter, grabbing his bicep as your whole cunt is suddenly slick and pulsing at his crude language. “Tell me more.” 

His responding grin is predatory as Anthony chuckles and slinks back between your legs.

“Do you know how many bedrooms there are in Aubrey Hall?” Benedict’s voice is a gentle tease as his nose runs teasing patterns over the swell of your breast.

“I don’t,” you admit, honestly.

“Twenty-four,” Anthony answers for you from between your thighs as he sucks a line down from your inner knee.

“Even with all of our siblings and their future children visiting, that still leaves at least, hmm, twelve bedrooms just going to waste. Until we fill them with our little brood.” 

“Benedict, I am not birthing twelve children,” you gasp, half in shock at the very thought, half because Anthony’s tongue curls rough around your clit. 

“Maybe not,” he admits, kissing across to your other breast, “but I think we should at least try….”

“Six each, brother?” Anthony chuckles, joining in,  lifting his head and resting his chin on your pubic hair, shooting a killer smile.

“Get back there. Have you not heard that female pleasure aids conception?” you challenge, raising an eyebrow.

“Then we will have to make you come at least twice tonight; ‘tis the most prudent path to double our chances,” Anthony retorts with a wink sinking down with a devilish look on his face before his tongue makes you cry out, and Benedict's teeth graze over your nipple, making you cant up into his mouth.

“You’ll have to carry me all the way back to the house if I have many more than that, remember,” you warn, bemused.

“Darling, I would carry you to the ends of the earth and back,” Benedict pledges, the romantic poetry just pouring from him as he surges up and kisses your lips, plundering your mouth with his tongue. “You have bewitched me. Since that very first day in my brother's study, I have been yours.”

Benedict is always more emotional and partial to declarations of love than his brother, whose feelings run just as deep but does not effuse about it so openly—preferring to express his adoration privately and through beautiful, thoughtful gifts.

“Save it for your individual days, brother,” Anthony hums drolly over your flesh. “We have a very special job to do tonight.”

“Indeed we do,” Benedict concurs, picking up one of your hands and entwining your fingers with his.

Then their efforts become more focussed as Anthony sucks your engorged nub deep into his mouth, moans vibrating your sensitive bud as Benedict bites your nipple in just that way you like—an insistent suckling hold that pulls your skin taunt and is a line right down to your throbbing clit being so utterly wrecked by Anthony.

It always stuns you how quickly these two, working in tandem, can rocket you so high, so dizzyingly fast. You are vaguely aware your hands are in both of their hair as you climb so high. Eyes screwed shut as they both mouth filthy encouragements into your skin.

“Come on, darling,” Anthony pleads, “I want to feel you drench my face.”

“Do not stop,” you chant repeatedly, twisting luscious strands of chestnut locks around your fingers.

Benedict’s lips are hot on your ear, biting the lobe as he senses you are so close. “Break for him,” he breathes, “come on, my love, give him that sweet nectar to drink.” 

The filthy poet never fails to give you that extra nudge, and sure enough, with a staccato of breaths, they have to hold you down as you fight to buck against the convulsions deep inside.

Anthony growls at you to stay still, even though you know he loves it when you writhe over his face, his jaw clamped hard between your spasming thighs.

“Does that feel so good?” Benedict’s silky voice vibrates your ear.

“Yes, oh god, I need one of you inside me, please,” you twist to look into his face as beseeching as you can, still flushed and mindless from your orgasm. “But please tie my hands first,” you stutter breathlessly, offering your wrists up to him, pressed together. “Above my head.”

“I thought we were not playing tonight?” Anthony says quietly as he lands on the blanket beside you, his face shining with your juices.

“Please, just, please,” you beg, turning to him, “I need it. Use your chains.”

As they flank your body, both of them make a low noise at the idea of binding your hands with your golden chains that bear their initials. 

Benedict’s large hand slides down your dewy torso and into your thatch of hair. Then slowly, while you pant lightly and keep your eyes locked on Anthony’s intense stare, Benefict unhooks one chain and tugs it gently from around the dip of your waist.

“Your turn,” he says quietly to Anthony, and you realise they are removing their own chains. Somehow that choice makes you burn even hotter for them, squirming slightly. 

Anthony’s hand follows the same path as you breath heavy and hold Benedict’s gaze this time as Anthony unhooks the chain with the A charm and drags it up along your skin, a corner of the letter scraping gently over your flesh, catching your nipple as you gasp.

Then they take an arm each, raising them above your head. Both then bind your wrists as your gaze flits between them, watching their handsome faces.

“Thank you,” your murmur reverential, testing the hold and feeling the precious metal bite into your flesh as they both dive in for a heated kiss, Anthony reaching you first and Benedict settling on your neck until they can swap positions. It’s a deep kiss that is musky and sweet with the taste and scent of your climax.

“Who gets the privilege of being first, my love?” Benedict asks silkily.

“You do, Ben,” you whisper, and his whole face lights up. So often used to being second.

You turn to Anthony as Benedict shifts to lay between your legs. “Thank you, my darling Ant, for my wonderful orgasm,” you compliment and watch as his face turns boyish with pride.

You cry out as Benedict spears into you, splitting your open, causing the gentle ripples of your orgasm to flare again, and he drops his head onto your breastbone.

“Christ, there is nothing like your little fluttering cunt is there?” he groans into your flesh.

“Give it to me, Ben,” you twist from kissing Anthony to declare. Then turn back, desperate for more hot kisses.

His tip feels somehow harsher than normal, a hot spike as he begins to move, your walls clinging to him almost vice-like. It feels so good your eyes roll, and your mouth goes slack against Anthony’s. 

He brushes a gentle hand through your hair, watching you through hooded eyes, gently murmuring praise and compliments as you take Benedict's hard thrusts.

“We will plant our seeds, darling, deep in here,” Anthony breathes, a hand sliding down to your belly just above where Benedict’s body meets yours as he surges into you. “Do you want that?”

“Yess,” you hiss, mesmerised, fingers twirling in your own hair, “please.”

“Oh, our perfect little broodmare,” Anthony exhales shakily, surging his leaking cock against the hip he holds open for his little brother, who now curls down over you, biting a nipple. “Do you know how proud we will be? Making your beautiful body swell, your breasts growing so large and sensitive, your belly growing round. With our baby. A little Bridgerton. Or maybe more. We want to plant you with two babies right now, one for me and one for my little brother. Can you do that, darling, for us? Take our seed so good?”

“Yes, Anthony,” you pant, utterly enthralled by his filthy talk. That is usually the expertise of the man now biting your nipples and growling as he fucks you so harshly that your body jerks on the cotton blanket you lay on.

“Let him,” Anthony continues with slightly gritted teeth, “let him fuck you harder than he ever has before.”

“Yes, my lord,” you answer, under his spell, and his nostrils flare as you use the title you call him in play.

He curses, then grabs one of your chain-bound wrists above your head, fingers sliding possessively between yours and forcing the back of your hand down onto the ground. 

“Yes, that's it, do as you are told, little one,” he growls through clenched teeth. 

And you feel a frisson of something frantic, like you all need something with a little edge. A gust of breeze flutters over your skin and leaves quiver on the trees around you. 

“Fuck her harder, brother,” Anthony orders into your clavicle, and you feel it buzz into your bones.

Benedict growls in response and hooks the leg, not being held by Anthony over his flexed forearm. Pulling you open more, feeling so vulnerable, your hands bound, your legs held obscenely wide open by each. 

Suddenly the moment feels charged as Benedict snaps his hips so forcefully that you whimper on every stroke, revelling in the sweat splashing from his damp forehead curls onto your breasts. Anthony is sucking on your neck with almost painful intensity as Benedict drops down and bites your flesh over your tricep, making you writhe and call his name. The gold chains binding your wrists dig into your flesh as you move, bringing an edge that just pushes you higher.

You encourage him, calling him sir, begging for more, squeezing his cock with your pelvic muscles as he pounds into you mercilessly. And that constriction is the catalyst he needs. He curses long and low, feeling huge as he spears so deep he nudges your hilt, and you sense a change in him that usually signals his withdrawal. This time his eyes fly open, pupils blown, and expression wild as he grabs your jaw firmly.

“Are you ready?” He barks possessively. 

“Yes,” you hiss, realising he is going to climax without waiting for you.

His last few hot desperate thrusts are so harsh your whole insides feel rearranged. Then he stills, and for the first time, you hear that guttural groan right into your ear as he begins to spill inside you, a hot wave that blooms deep inside, feeling like so much more than he has ever come before. It’s a new sensation and feels just wonderful.

“Yes, take it all, my darling girl,” he shudders, and that gravelly tone pulls you over a small edge, you clamping down on his spurting cock as he groans and spasms into you some more, hipbones digging into your inner thighs. His weight is almost crushing as he becomes motionless, your thighs burning from the stretch.

“That’s it,” Anthony whispers against your temple, “lay still and open, darling, let his seed into your womb.” 

Those words echo drowsily in your head as you feel Benedict’s cock gradually soften inside you, and he slips out slowly with a slick tide of juices that run down over your bottom cheeks.

“Fucking babies into you is my new favourite thing. Do you have any idea how exquisite it is to come inside you? Fill you up? I never want to come anywhere else ever again.” Benedict gusts as he falls to one side of you, still breathing heavily, and you realise it's a novel experience for him too. “God, I love you,” he admits shakily, landing a kiss on your cheek.

“I love you too. Thank you for my baby Benedict,” you nuzzle his face and kiss him sweetly as his body relaxes, utterly spent.

You twist to look at Anthony, and his eyes sparkle as he climbs between your legs, his cock hard, glistening, and leaking in his fist. “Are you ready?” 

“Yes, my lord,” you answer.

He thrusts into your soaking cunt, still leaking profusely from Benedict. He feels even larger and harsher somehow too, and on reflex, you clench around the invasion, feeling the verdant earth beneath your bottom and shoulder blades softened slightly by the blanket.

“My darling girl,” his voice ragged, broken. “You are so exquisitely puffy and swollen. That was quite the mounting you got, wasn’t it? Are you ready for more?”

You croak your assent, and then he begins to move. He isn’t slow. In fact, he starts pounding so hard you gasp, the sensation almost too much, and Benedict's hand slides into your hair, over your bound hands, and you clutch it as he rolls closer, nuzzling your face.

“Feel it all, my darling girl,” Benedict rumbles.

“I am, sir,” you nod and bite your lip. “I can even feel your seed inside me still,” you add with a moan, the chains on your wrist abraiding your skin, leaving marks.

“Good,” he gusts drowsily and warmly in your ear, a hand swirling patterns on your hip. “Let it in, darling, all the way in.”

As a cloud clears the moon, the atmosphere feels softer again, the frantic moment of before ebbing into something more profound; even as Anthony takes you hard, it’s more in an undulating wave, hitting your hilt with a rhythm that feels hypnotic, your cunt clinging to him like a glove, as Benedict's sonorous voice is back at your ear.

“That’s right, get ready, darling girl. We need you to keep this line going. In your belly, you will grow the next viscount. You will bare the heirs of this family. Just you, my wonderful wife-to-be.”

“I want all of your babies too, Benedict,” you breathe as Anthony ploughs on. “I want to give the world more like you. Talented creative, empathetic, loving souls who bring joy to every room.”

His eyes mist over as you declare your truth. “I love you so much it hurts,” he murmurs into your cheek, voice thick with emotion.

“I love you too,” you want to grab his face but can’t; instead, you seal your pact with a sweet, almost chaste kiss filled with affection; even as Anthony takes you towards a big blissful moment, you hope you will hit together.

“Now declare your love to him too,” Benedict orders softly, “you know he needs to hear it, maybe even more than me.”

You nod and turn all of your attention and heart to the Viscount. Still holding Benedict’s hand tangled in your hair, not wanting either to feel left out on this momentous night.

“Viscount Anthony Bridgerton,” you use his title and full name, your pleading tone making his eyes bore into yours. “I love you so much, my lord, my husband,” you state categorically.

He groans and falls over your body, covering you, his scent and heat all-encompassing.

“Darling darling wife, my Viscountess,” he exhales over your lips, his thrusts turning slow and languid, his hands grasping your thighs and pulling your legs up and out, utterly under his command, pinned. “I love you so much,” he sounds almost choked with emotion, and part of you wishes you had your hands to hold him to you.

“Do you want to be freed, my love?” Benedict asks softly, always seemingly able to intuit your needs before you even articulate them.

“Please,” you request, turning to give him a grateful peck as he reaches up and loosens both chains, leaving one delicately but loosely wrapped around each forearm, your wrists pulsing mildly as they are freed.

Instantly you move your arms, wrapping one around Anthony’s back, your nails and the gold chain scraping down his skin as your other hand rounds Benedict's shoulder and into his hair, stroking and petting.

Your hand sliding down, mapping his contours, over the swell of his muscular bottom makes Anthony groan and bite your neck, spearing deep into you as your nails dig in, tilting your pelvis and rocking him deeper into you until you feel that ache so far inside. 

Then he pushes up onto his hands and thrusts hard, setting a punishing pace. Every fibre of your being wants this, ratcheting high and fast as each stroke crushes your clit into your frame. Unable to form words except to curse and babble mindlessly. You feel your whole body tense, a release so imminent you grit your teeth and chase it hard.

“That’s it darling, come for me, milk me,” Antony commands, flicking a thumb over your clit, and you are gone.

Yelling and screaming as his cock is the solid mass you convulse around, your entire being spasming, and you feel Benedict’s firm grip, holding you down with a knee and large hands. Making you orgasm hard, entirely still, unable to writhe, all the sensation concentrated on where Anthony’s cock spears you open.

As the blood rushes in your ears, his teeth are biting on the cord of your neck, and with a few pumps, he releases with a throaty whine, pushing the deepest he has ever been, feeling like he piercing through your hilt.

He curses long, low guttural and again there is that bloom of viscous heat inside as he spills all his seed.

“Yes, my darling girl,” he slurs, “stay down, take it all,”

You cry out, and your instinct is to move, but both of them hold you down, so your fingers dig into flesh, and your toes curl as your body is thwarted from its shakes and shudders. Anthony’s weight is upon you as he recovers his breath, feeling even heavier than Benedict as he slumps,, panting into your neck.

“I understand what you mean now, brother,” his tone almost wonderous. “I do not wish to leave my seed anywhere else either, dear god; that was exquisite.” Delicately he pulls backwards so his softening cock slips out of your body, and you groan at the sensation, flopping your head blissfully on the blanket as he falls to your other side. 

The gentle sounds of nocturnal nature around you fill your ears as it is just your joint breathing, soothing hands running over you, soft kisses and little intimate moments where you whisper to both of your boys.

“We may have made a baby tonight, my darling husbands,” you murmur.

The look they both give you is brimming with love and appreciation as you curl into both, taking a hand from each of them and placing them over your heart as you drift to sleep, cocooned in their safe embrace.

Your boys. Forever, your boys.

Anthony & Benedict taglists: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @panhoeofmanyfandoms

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[pennyellee]

CHAPTER IV - ustulation

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

chapter warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, yandere, kidnapping, mentions of God, blood, incision wound, fictive mafia clan traditions, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behaviour, angst, mentions of death, overwhelming, violence, threats, intimate encounter, kissing

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count: 5,6K

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

m.list CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III GAME OF GO CHAPTER V

ustulation (n.) a burning lust

In the hidden embrace of a secluded mountain valley, a village of hanoks stirred to life on a tranquil winter's morning. The air was crisp, a symphony of silence. The Song of the Dead toned down for some time.

The dawn’s gentle light bathed the valley, wisps of mist from the frost-kissed earth, adding an ethereal veil to the scenery she watched carefully from the closed window.

The majestic mountains, ancient pines and stoic rocks stood as sentinels of the valley's serenity. She could see them from this side of the house. Y/N sighed, holding a cup of tea in her two small hands, warming herself up on this chilly morning.

“Is something bothering you, my love?”

Yoongi had tried his hardest the past month to get under her skin. There were times when he thought perhaps, she would welcome him into her heart one day. However, her repeated escape attempts made him think otherwise. He was giving her the space she needed with carefulness in every action he took. The young leader knew well that she wouldn't be able to escape while they resided here, in the core of the village. That did not stop her though.

As if nature herself wished to bestow a gift upon him, the first snowflakes began to descend from the heavens just as they were returning from that unfortunate, eventful day in Seoul. The snowflakes floated gently, even now, like fragile dreams.

“Are you feeling well? You spent a lot of time in the snow yesterday.” He murmured after she didn’t grant him an answer to his previous question. They had to postpone the wedding as the snow and frost reigned, making it unsafe to pass through the tunnels. The passage was being cleared by workers for more than a week now. Time seemed to stand still as they absorbed the grace that enveloped their world.

“I feel fine,” she muttered back, not even looking his way at the table.

“I’ve been good to you, haven’t I?” He asked, demanding to speak to her.

“After all the stunts you pulled, you’re still free to roam around without anyone guarding you. Not speaking of the fact that I’m letting you sleep alone—” he was going on rumble.

The young leader is patient, but he longed for her more than ever. The fact that they’re still not newlyweds, and he cannot show love to every inch of her body, make her swell with his child, was frustrating him beyond repair. She had let her guard down once and allowed him to take the chance and kiss her on the cheek, startling her yet again.

“—you’re so blinded,” she said suddenly, turning back to face him.

“Excuse me?” said he, very surprised.

“You go on about how you’re good to me, how this is God’s doing, and that I should be grateful—” she threw her hands in the air, frustrated by his demanding nature.

While the leader thought he was granting her the time she needed, Y/N felt more and more anxious every day. Her heart is still itching to be free, yet she cannot stop thinking about what her selfishness would cause if she indeed managed to escape.

“Well maybe if you didn’t run every time, I tried to show you affection, I wouldn't have to remind you of all this.” He spat angrily, smashing the chopsticks on the table, standing up.

“I’m patient—” said he, getting closer to her standing form by the large windows. “—but I swear to God, you’ll disobey me again, and that’s where my hospitality ends, Y/N.”

“I just—” she stammered, making him stop in his attempt to close the distance between them. “I’m scared,” she whimpered. Y/N didn’t know why these words came out of her, nor why there were tears. All she felt was exhaustion.

The scarred leader’s expression softened. Is she finally confiding herself to him, opening up?

“My love…” He approached her, taking the cup from her shaking hands, putting it aside and lastly taking her face into his hands, his thumbs wiping her tears away.

“I can make you happy. You just have to let me in.” He whispered, moving his face closer to hers. Y/N knows they will cross the boundary sooner or later. The winter is making it impossible for her to both run away and survive. Should Y/N listen to her mother’s words and let him make her his queen? The older female’s proclamation circled her mind at night while listening to the cracking of wood in the fireplace.

“Please let me in, dove.” He pleaded again, his eyes filled with sincerity and longing.

And once she nodded her head in approval, he didn’t hesitate to press his lips softly against hers. Time stood still, and the world around them faded into a blur of insignificance. Their hearts pounded in sync for a brief moment. She felt a warmth she couldn't admit, even to herself. Y/N wanted to hate him so much. Despite her inner conflict, she could sense the unspoken longings from his side, his desire to deepen the kiss carefully without overwhelming her. He wished to never let her go and feared that she would vanish in his hold. His lips were tender and tentative, like the brush of a butterfly's wings upon a fragile petal. Y/N knows he is holding himself back. The kiss was addictive, momentarily lifting the burden from her chest.

As he went to slide his hands on the swell of her heart-shaped bottom, a sudden cough interrupted the intimate moment. Y/N quickly pulled away, feeling shame and embarrassment wash over her caused by the sudden intrusion. She stole a single glance at the man standing by the door, grinning mischievously. Her cheeks turned crimson as she felt shy and exposed, but the young leader kept holding her in his embrace, not letting her go so soon after their first shared kiss.

Smiling like a teenager, he said: “What’s going on Hoseok-shi.” Y/N could imagine he is smiling widely as she had observed when she apologised to him for hitting his head with the stone. He waved it off quickly stating ‘I would be a fool to not forgive my new sister.’ She pretended not to be affected by his words, but it made the man she was to marry smile even more mischievously.

“I need to speak to you, and Y/N should get ready for Hyung’s wedding,” Hoseok said, his eyes gleaming with some secret knowledge.

Y/N exchanged a puzzled glance with Hoseok before nodding and extracting herself from the young leader's embrace, her cheeks still flushed from the kiss. Uncertainty hung in the air as Yoongi let Y/N go and walk away, admiring her graceful figure.

“What?” Yoongi asked, turning his attention to his trusted friend, who wore a smirk that hinted at hidden amusement.

“Nothing,” Hoseok replied, still smiling under his nose.

“Shall we?” Yoongi said, collecting himself and walking towards his brother.

“You won’t fancy what news I bring, brother.”

Silk banners fluttered in the breeze, announcing the joyous union to all who ventured near. The bride, a vision of grace and elegance, is adorned in a hanbok of flowing silk and intricate embroidery.

The groom, dressed in the timeless attire of a traditional hanbok, stood tall and resolute. His eyes fixed unwaveringly upon his beloved, as though she embodied the very essence of his being — a force that fuelled his heart.

Amidst the enchanting spectacle of celebration, the weight of tradition resonated with each uttered word.

The outside picture portrayed the unbreakable bonds of family and the beauty of two souls finding solace in one another. Y/N, however, couldn’t help but have a feeling that the poor girl the doctor was marrying did not find herself at the altar because of true love but fearful coercion. It reminded her of her circumstances — a pawn in a larger scheme.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow upon the snow-covered land, Y/N sat beside her to-be husband, observing his unusual joy. Accordingly. Today, one of his brothers was finally taking a wife and his bride in a momentary vulnerability that had allowed him to share a tender kiss with her, amplifying his joy to an even greater extent.

Her ears perked up once she heard the celebration of the union before her. She couldn't resist side-eyeing the other brothers she had encountered over the past month, and her gaze locked with Kim Namjoon, Kkangpae’s right-hand man.

Y/N remembers Kim Namjoon. His piercing, cold gaze bore into her soul, especially so during one of her escape attempts, when he forcefully brought her back to the main house, reprimanding her for disobedience.

‘I can either give up my life to save you or I can be your enemy Y/N.’ Namjoon had warned her on a night when she sought solace near the fireplace in Yoongi's office, wrapped in blankets to warm herself even more. She was rarely allowed in this sacred room unless her actions demanded attention.

That night, Yoongi was dealing with business matters. He came back to the main house to her shivering and crying form. It is breaking his heart every time he sees her in such a state but simultaneously, he wishes she would cross the border of submissiveness and obey him.

Y/N ignored his warning just yesterday when she attempted to run away again. Hence, the gaze. If she was afraid of his next steps, she wouldn’t let him decipher that.

She snapped out of her mind as Yoongi rose from his seat, taking her hand to help her up. Y/N looked at him with a mixture of confusion and concern. He gently nudged her behind him, positioning himself as a protective shield. She looked around her, seeing that everyone else was still seated. Their looks show emotions —excitement, joy, and pride.

Her confusion heightened when Yoongi began unbuttoning her fur coat that was hiding her long red qipao, and panic swelled within her.

"What are you doing?!” She whispered in distress.

“Behave.” He whispered back to her, leaving the coat open revealing her breasts and tummy.

Leaving her standing close to him, he held her hand tightly, as if afraid she might flee at any moment. Y/N noticed that Namjoon's attention had shifted to Seokjin's new bride. The bride's trembling form approached them, and Y/N observed the gleaming knife in Seokjin's hand, quickly realizing what was about to happen.

It whispered promises of power, of secrets that could be revealed with a single stroke, but it also carried the weight of consequences and a toll on the bearer's conscience. As the girl's hand was carefully sliced with the knife, Y/N couldn't help but empathize with her pain. Her father had a similar tradition; however, women weren’t involved; she was still left in the dark about her role in all this.

The girl then knelt, extending her bloodied hand toward the leader, reciting her pledge of loyalty to Kkangpae Min. Yoongi covered her hand with his other one, acknowledging her devotion and signaling for her to continue with the moving tradition.

The leader then used his left hand to guide Y/N forward, leaving her yet again puzzled and bewildered. A moment later, she gasped with shock as she felt the girl's bloodied hand touch her lower belly. Yoongi held her firmly in place, preventing any instinctual step back.

"I, with my blood, pledge my loyalty to you, Min Buin. Blessed be the fruit of your future legacy, Kkangpae Min," the girl recited, her words carrying both reverence and a touch of melancholy. The significance of the moment and the responsibility it bestowed upon Y/N left her grappling with a maelstrom of emotions.

“Well you handled that well,” a voice came from behind her, and Y/N turned to find Namjoon standing there, watching her by the fireplace in Yoongi's office. She had been curious when he would approach her, knowing that Yoongi had gone to check if the tunnels were passable.

Y/N couldn't quite discern the tone of Namjoon's remark—whether it held irony or genuine praise. Such was the enigmatic nature of this man.

“I suppose,” she muttered, hugging herself for comfort.

“I personally thought you’d slap her hand off. Such an act would undoubtedly stir up trouble,” said he as he settled down in one of the armchairs.

Her mind replayed the events of the pledge, and she confessed truthfully, “I was too shocked to do so.” The new bride's pledge of loyalty to her and her empty womb had caught her off guard, leaving her uneasy.

“Your father is not demanding newcomers to pledge loyalty?” He asked, curious about their inner circle practices. She smirked, sensing his attempt to pry.

“Yes, but not to my mother,” she revealed.

“You hold an important position within our ranks,” the right-hand man noted. “And that, my dear, is why we are having this little conversation.” Y/N looked up, finding him extending a glass filled with what she presumed to be rice wine or soju.

“I genuinely want to be your friend Y/N—” he said while passing the glass to her. “But you’re very hard to please, princess,” he exclaimed.

“By ‘wanting to be my friend’, you mean the part when you threaten me again,” she retorted with a scoff, alluding to his past warnings.

“That is a necessary evil,” he conceded. “But on a serious note, Y/N,” he drew closer, taking a seat slightly further away to grant her personal space, “Why?”

“What do you mean, why?” she asked, feeling dumbfounded by his question.

"Is life here truly so terrible that all you can think of is escape?" he sighed, genuinely curious about her state of mind.

“Not all I can think of—” she began, trying to defend herself.

"Oh, so you did not attempt to escape just a day ago, and two days before that, and so on," he interjected, pointing out her recent attempts.

“What do you want to hear from me Namjoon?” she countered, feeling the pressure of his questioning.

“Hoseok hyung overheard your conversation,” he finally gave away the one piece of information he sought to address “What are you afraid of?”

Y/N gazed into the dancing flames, his words echoing in her mind. Memories of the recent kiss with Yoongi and the ensuing events flooded her thoughts. She felt her spirit on the brink of collapse, her attempts to escape repeatedly thwarted, causing harm to others in the process. Y/N was exhausted.

“I suppose I expected my life to take a different trajectory than this,” she admitted, reflecting on her circumstances.

“I can assure you that this will be the best that ever happened to you—” Namjoon insisted, trying to be reassuring.

“And that, Namjoon, is where my disbelief lies,” she interrupted him, peering straight into his eyes. He sighed, running a hand across his face, expressing a sense of frustration mixed with genuine concern.

“You didn’t give it a chance!” He raised his voice, unable to hide his emotions. He wanted this clan to function as it did for countless years and what’s more, he wanted his hyung to be happy.

“I’m going to ask you once again, and I want the truth,” he implored, trying to get to the heart of the matter. “What are you so scared of?”

Y/N decided to remain silent, knowing that her response would likely incite further frustration from him. "Is it sex?" he suddenly asked, shocking her with his explicitness. "Are you scared to be punished for your sins?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” she returned his rage, denying his accusation.

“Am I?” he continued probing.

“Yes, Namjoon! You are! You think I’m this shallow?!” she lashed out.

“No, but all you let us see is the shallow version of you. Apart from this morning,” he declared, referring to a rare moment of vulnerability she had shown.

“And it wasn’t meant for anybody to hear nor see that,” she snapped back at him.

“I understand your reasoning, Y/N. But we’re your family now, you don’t have to shield yourself against us,” he pleaded, hoping to break down her walls.

“He loves you, Y/N,” Namjoon continued, trying to make her see the sincerity in Yoongi's feelings.

“That’s very hard to believe too.” She remarked, still sceptical, looking right through his eyes. He took a deep breath, lifting his hand to touch his face.

“Alright, let’s make a deal,” he proposed, catching her by surprise and piquing her interest.

“About?” She asked, curiously.

“Give it a year,” said the right-hand man. By making a deal with her, he is going behind the back of his leader and, even more importantly — his dearest friend. Nevertheless, he felt obligated to do this for him.

"If you're still 'scared' of whatever you say you are, and this is not the life you'll be comfortable living, I'll personally see to it that you'll be transported to America," he promised, leaving her momentarily speechless.

“What is the catch?” Y/N wasn't naive. She knew there must be some ulterior motive.

"You'll stop being a flight risk. If you attempt to run again, the deal is off, and I will personally eliminate each person foolish enough to aid you since your arrival—one by one, ending with your cousin," he stated, laying out the condition.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she absorbed his chilling words. Her mind raced as she contemplated her choices. "That's the only condition?" she asked, ensuring she understood the terms before giving her answer.

"Well, naturally, I expect you to genuinely give it a chance, meaning that you will accept Hyung as your husband, leader, and lover," he emphasized the last noun, urging her to take his words seriously. Y/N stopped for a moment to collect her thoughts together.

“This is a one time offer Y/N. I won’t be this generous again,” he added. She struggled to read him, but she couldn’t. Namjoon was well known for being unpredictable — a quality that made him a perfect fit as the right-hand man. No one could ever say with certainty what his next move would be.

“Fine,” she finally relented, her voice barely a whisper. Namjoon extended his hand, sealing the deal with a firm shake. He leaned in closer to Y/N.

“I trust that you’ll be on your best behaviour from now on.” He whispered to her. There were so many emotions in her eyes right now that she was working hard to process. She barely nodded and averted her gaze down. Y/N couldn’t bear to look into his intimidating eyes no more.

“Very well,” he murmured, his gaze still fixed on her. “The tunnels have been cleared, and the wedding will take place this week." He told her.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at the mention of the impending wedding. She was praying that perhaps she has more time to think of what to do with her situation. According to Seokjin, who came to visit and spent some time on occasion with her when his leader could not, the tunnels wouldn’t be cleared out until the end of December, giving her another month in total.

“Brother!” exclaimed Namjoon suddenly, breaking her train of thought. Y/N followed his gaze to the sliding door, where Yoongi stood, undoing the cufflinks of his shirt, the suit jacket already gone. "I was just telling Y/N the good news," Namjoon smiled at him.

Throughout this month, Y/N observed the strong brotherhood among Yoongi's most trusted and closest men. The deepest connection Yoongi shared was undoubtedly with Namjoon, which explained why he was the right-hand man.

Yoongi displayed a particularly protective nature towards his younger brothers. She had yet to meet Jungkook, the youngest, who had been recently assigned as captain of the front unit, as she overheard. On the other hand, Jimin was more involved in the open, managing the front business and whatever lay beneath it. The Chosen Hotel was highly popular among Koreans but was eagerly open to international guests too. Y/N suspected that the true core of the business was settled elsewhere, and she was eager to uncover it.

Seokjin, recently married, primarily served as the inner family's doctor. However, the Min clan also faced a shortage of actual medical staff like, so he had to run between the sanctuary, as she had learnt this place was called, and a front hospital.

Taehyung remained a mystery to her, despite seeing him in family pictures and hearing Yoongi mention him occasionally. He was supposed to represent the law in Yoongi's business dealings, ensuring the safety and legitimacy of their operations, including the handling of illegal earnings. Therefore, Taehyung is the safety pin of this organization. Whomever fucks up, he is there to defend them.

And lastly, Hoseok, a surprising contrast of joy and darkness. Y/N was taken aback that such a buoyant personality could be involved in such sinister activities. He was the arsonist who also took care of assassinations. Additionally, the clan engaged in money laundering, and Hoseok was responsible for collecting debts, often involuntarily.

Her eyes swelled with tears she was refusing to let out. Yoongi’s eyes met Y/N's, and she could see a mixture of concern and worry flicker across his face. A silent understanding passed between them, and they knew that they would need to have a private conversation later.

“Well, it seems you two need more privacy,” said Namjoon while he was collecting himself from the cushion he was sitting on.

“Did Tae call?” Yoongi asked before Namjoon could leave. “He did before Hyung’s wedding, to send his good wishes and—” he gazed over to Y/N who was carefully listening to their conversation, hanging on every word.

“—and?” Yoongi asked as he unbuttoned his shirt, a sight she had seen far too often for her liking. He was not shy with her; he could easily undress before her without a second thought. His attempts to walk in on her while she was changing didn't go unnoticed either, though she made sure to show her displeasure by throwing vases at him to keep him out.

Only now did Y/N remember the glass of alcoholic beverage that Namjoon had offered her, remaining untouched in her hands. She decided to take a sip, trying to ease her nerves before the conversation she was dreading.

“—and everything went well, as expected,” said Namjoon observing her as she downed the burning soju.

“Send telegraph to Wang and other families. We’re leaving for Chosen in two hours.” Y/N straightened herself, eyes wide open in disbelief.

“W-what do you mean in two hours?” She stammered. It was just past eight when she gazed at the clock on the wall. That would mean they'd depart at ten and arrive in Seoul around midnight.

"—I thought they just cleared the way. Why are we—" Yoongi cut her off abruptly. "I am waiting no more," he said firmly, locking his gaze with hers, leaving her in shock once again.

"On your way, please inform the maids to pack, and I want the cabin ready," Yoongi instructed Namjoon, who memorised every task with a sense of responsibility, seemingly disregarding Y/N's shattered spirit in the wake of this sudden rush.

“Can we at least talk about it?!” she raised her voice, causing the two men to stop in their tracks. They exchanged knowing looks, making it clear that this was non-negotiable. Yoongi clicked his tongue, biting his cheeks from inside, then turned to face his fiancée with a deceptive sweetness in his tone.

"Of course, my love," he said.

He nodded to Namjoon, who immediately took off, glancing at Y/N with a silent reminder to behave.

“What’s wrong?” Yoongi asked nonchalantly as if this were a perfectly normal scenario.

“I don’t know, do you think this is right?” Y/N kept her tone tense, signalling her discontent.

“Nothing is more right than this,” he answered, pouring himself a drink while taking her empty glass and refilling it with soju.

"Yoongi—" she began to protest, but he didn't let her speak further, having heard her excuses countless times.

“No Y/N. I’m not negotiating this time. We’re getting married tomorrow afternoon and that’s final,” he stated sternly.

"You could at least wait a day! Do you think everyone will just jump because you said it's happening right now? And more importantly, let me mentally prepare for it?!” Her frustration grew, and she gestured wildly, almost knocking over the refilled glass that Yoongi handed her.

“They are already in town. The telegraph is just a confirmation that it will happen tomorrow.” Her distress and panic were understandable; she had believed she had more time than a few hours.

“And you didn’t think of telling me first?!” she raised her voice even higher. That she was in distress and panic was very understandable. Y/N thought she had more time than a few hours.

“No, because you were finally letting me in—” said he, downing the contents of his glass in one go.

“You knew this would happen for a month, and you would have had more time to prepare yourself if running away fifteen hundred times a day wouldn’t be on your mind,” he fired back, raising his voice at her, and immediately asserting dominance.

"I'm getting very tired of this. One step forward and ten million miles back, damn it!" he cursed, slamming the glass down on his desk in frustration. The tension in the room was palpable, and Y/N felt her heart sinking as she realized that her hopes of a slower pace for their relationship had been shattered.

“I have a very easy solution to that—” she said, raising herself to stand up to him.

“—Let me go,” she emphasized every single word, her frustration boiling over, and momentarily forgetting about her deal with Namjoon.

Her emotions were running high, and she went to pull the ring off to prove her point, but he forcefully grabbed her right hand, stopping her in her tracks. Anger filled his eyes as he crossed his other hand, grabbed her by the back of her neck, and crashed his lips onto hers, pressing their bodies against the nearest wall. He didn't give her a chance to catch her breath as he passionately bruised her lips.

He let go of her hand once he was sure she wouldn't resist. With his now free hand, he lifted her leg, wrapping it around his waist, squeezing her ass cheek, making her yelp and by that creating an opening to slip his tongue into her mouth. Y/N had no idea how long their intimate encounter lasted, but she could feel her head spinning from the lack of oxygen. Just as she managed to stop his other hand from slipping under her dress, aiming for her pulsing heat, he parted from her, both of them breathing heavily.

“I’m sorry. I got carried away,” he apologised, his eyes fixed on her now swollen lips. Y/N was taken aback, her head still spinning, and she couldn't think straight. He had such a powerful effect on her, and this aspect of life was entirely new to her, having been kept away from such experiences.

"I wish, —" he started, nibbling at her lower lip while he continued to speak, "—you would acknowledge my love for you." Yoongi kissed her again, not giving her a chance to recover or speak up, moaning softly into her lips.

"We are too close. I will never give you up.” he declared, wiping her tears away gently.

“I can’t have you running though—” he leaned into lavish attention on her neck, placing butterfly kisses up to her jaw and stopping at her lips again—

"I'll overlook this lapse of senses if you keep up this good behaviour, my love, but the next time you disobey me, I won't only discipline you; someone will lose their head.”

She trembled against him, feeling lost, scared, and vulnerable. Her breath hitched as she tried to speak up. Yoongi was beyond himself for getting her into this state where she didn’t dare to oppose his words and stopped fighting him. If she won’t let him in willingly, he will force her to open up to him.

“I told you to not take that ring off your finger ever again.” She remembers the words he uttered to her in the garden where he proposed to her. That she agreed still feels surreal to her. Running got her nowhere, but she still had a selfish feeling inside her that he was bluffing and wouldn’t dare to seriously hurt anybody.

“Now be a good girl and apologise for disobeying me.” He tightened his grip at her waist, finally staring right into her teary eyes. Y/N felt lost, scared and vulnerable. Her lips were trembling, and her breath hitched again once she opened her mouth to speak.

“Shhh, it’s okay baby, just say it.” He cooed, lifting his hand to caress her cheek gently.

“I-I am sorry,” she finally sobbed. If there was one thing the scarred boy excelled at, it was getting his way. He smiled at her, pleased with her response.

He smiled at her. “That’s more like it, baby.”

Y/N longed to curl up in her small apartment, where she resided while studying at college. She desperately wished she could turn back time.

“I have something for you,” he said suddenly, looking for any sign of curiosity from her. Yoongi stepped away to his desk, leaving her pressed against the wall, hesitant to move an inch. He opened one of his drawers and pulled out an envelope. Y/N couldn't make out the handwriting, but her eyes widened as she recognised it.

“Your aunt entrusted me with this letter when we came to the conclusion that you should be mine one day,” he said, holding the envelope in his hands. Y/N desperately wished that the answer and a solution to her fears would be contained in that envelope. She was mulling over the platform of this match-making her aunt orchestrated.

Wang Xiaoqing very much upheld the meaning of her name in the time she lived. Blessed with intelligence. And she was a fearless mafia wife who brought pride to her late husband. There are other intriguing things about Y/N’s beloved auntie. Xiaoqing is by far the only member in her large family tree that married for love. Y/N admired her aunt and, perhaps, seeing that it was possible to marry for love, made her blindly believe she could also have the freedom to choose her partner.

She dreamt of a little house in the woods, not far from a lake or a small town. Growing some goods in the garden, by night sitting near the fireplace, the love of her life holding her. She would work in a nearby hospital, or study overseas to become a doctor were all part of her fever dream. She knew it was unlikely to come true, given her family's ties to the syndicate.

But she could least dream about it. For a moment, when she was on the ferry to Jeju Island, she thought she would make it. Y/N knew the risk she was taking once she entrusted her well-being to Chan-yeol. She knew his role was insignificant and not a threat to any syndicate and it wouldn’t certainly attract Yakuza, but she was also aware that he could have been the only one to send her to the far land. She believed that God chose this path for her instead of being an arm jewel to some Yakuza brute.

Reality snapped her back from her swirling thoughts as he put the envelope back in the drawer.

“W-what are you doing?” she asked, taking a step forward.

“I will give it to you—” he promised “and tell you everything you want to know—” locking the drawer with a key.

“—After you’ll walk the aisle to me, without any of your misfits,” he finished his sentence.

"To strengthen your cooperation for tomorrow, I'm having your cousin and her husband at gunpoint during the ceremony," he added, making her scream in protest.

"I won't do anything stupid," she pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Just let them be, please. They have little son, Yoongi.”

“I know, that’s why they are the perfect bargain to make you obedient. If this doesn't work, you still have other family members—," Y/N couldn't bear it any longer; she closed the distance between them, standing just inches away from him.

“If you would love me—” she started but before she could finish, he grabbed her waist and pulled her even closer, pressing his body against hers. She could feel his torso and lower body. He bowed down next to her ear.

“I’ll stop this necessary coercion when you’ll learn your place, my love.”

Yoongi loved making her squirm and overwhelm her. He was basking in the effect he had on her. The fact that she will be his wife in less than twelve hours was a source of satisfaction for him.

“You were my woman for a long time now, and you will be my woman till death do us apart.”

I N T E R L O G U E

“—And you’re certain that the man is on his way to Seoul.” The leader inquired of his trusted friend and partner, seated in the quiet confines of his home office.

“Yes,” Hoseok affirmed with a nod.

"Is there any additional information that I need to be aware of?” Yoongi's voice carried a hint of tension, his teeth gritted in anger.

"As of now, there's nothing more to report," the younger male replied, keeping the conversation concise.

“Do you want me to eliminate him?” Hoseok offered, waiting for his leader's command.

“Not just yet, I was hoping to have the pleasure myself.”

to be continued

author’s note: so here we are at chapter IV!! ♥ Thank you all so much for for sticking around chummers ♥ They kissed and much moreee!!! We'll see what we'll happen next. I hereby promise to post the chapter sooner than the end of Semptember, or I hope so xD Tho I have some wips to write and if I'll finish some then I'll post something new too ♥

Massive shout-out to Bex, the queen @chaoticpuff17, for beta another chapter!

Love you!!!!

Don't be a silent reader, comment, re-blog, heart, asks are more than welcome ♥

keep in mind - I'm not an expert on chinese, korean and japanese culture, but I tried to research everything realistic I wanted to add to the story. Nonetheless, take it as a fiction.

let's be friends chummers ♥

lots of love,

𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖞𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖊

taglist: @beautifulcloudfestival - @chaoticpuff17 - @honsoolgloss - @jingerbreadoutofstock - @moscow778 - @januara26 - @dinosolecito - @yoongislatinagff - @xyahrinx - @hi12345567 - @nochuel - @deltamoon666 - @bbkissme99 - @darkuni63 - @nansasa - @sazsazsaz - @missmin - @strxwbloody - @royallyjjk - @jaiuneamesolitaiire - @shadowyjellyfishfest - @bbgniecyy - @elayne321 - @seojunandsoju - @bun-27 - @whipwhoops - @wobblewobble822 - @whofan88 - @haneyyy - @lostgirlinthewoodss @secfir @btspurplesky @elleflying07 - @pamzn - @megseungmin

#bts #bts fic #yandere yoongi #yandere bts #yandere namjoon #soft yandere #mafia au #yandere seokjin #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #hard yandere #yandere #yandere kpop #yandere taehyung #mafia bts #lacrimosa #myg angst #dark!yoongi #min yoongi x y/n #bts x you #yoongi smut #haegeum #suga x you #suga x y/n #suga x reader #historical au #bts historical au #bts yandere au #fic:lacrimosa

[lunarmoves]

masterlist

long fics

these summer nights — DCA sun/moon/eclipse x reader

summary: you applied to camp fazbear as a counselor, not knowing that your entire summer was going to be centered around your rather curious coworkers. robotic coworkers, in fact, who hid a history of the camp from you that you never would've expected.

inspired by apricus! link to masterpost!

love from the other side (of the apocalypse) — DCA sun/moon/eclipse x reader

summary: in the wake of a devastating loss concerning your memory and who you are, you navigate a world littered with panic as you run from ethereal beings raining judgment upon humanity.

inspired by sleuth jesters! link to masterpost!

through pixel eyes — DCA sun/moon/eclipse x reader

summary: signed on as a beta tester for fazco, your job is simple: document any problems with their new program 'fazpals.exe' and help ensure it is ready for release. shouldn't be too difficult, right? right?? wrong.

link to masterpost!

one-shots

for evermore — DCA sun/moon/eclipse x reader

summary: you laugh—loud and carefree—and they have never wished so desperately before to be human. if only to love you for the rest of their life.

inspired by solar lunacy! link to fic here!

beauty and the beasts — DCA sun/moon/eclipse x reader

summary: you should've expected they were up to something when they picked you as a volunteer for one of their theatre shows. you just... didn't expect all of this.

link to fic here!

spooks, screams, and robots, oh my! — DCA sun/moon/eclipse x reader

summary: sun finds a flyer for a haunted house attraction and persuades you to go with them to it. shenanigans ensue.

link to fic here!

drabbles

moon was being more irate than usual

humans are so vulnerable

the daycare attendant is stupidly tall

you were being followed

do robots dream?

you tease the daycare attendant

they're your friend! promise!

your couch pillows are missing

you've got a blind date

what does touch feel like?

you’re so squishy!

sun wants a kiss

moon wonders about taste

moon makes a wish

moon wants a kiss

humans look dead when they sleep

dancing in the sunlight

a game of marco polo

let’s go out

tag! you're it!

sharing drinks

the mer was judging you

do robots cry?

privacy doesn't exist here

a new daycare guard

pruned fingers

sun has a crush!

i love you, sun

you can’t

#will update as fics r posted! #masterlist #sun x reader #moon x reader #eclipse x reader #fnaf sun x reader #fnaf moon x reader #dca x reader #daycare attendant x reader #fic masterposts have more info on em #like summaries n word counts n shit #shay scribbles daydreams #dca #dca fanfic #dca fandom #fnaf sundrop x reader #fnaf moondrop x reader #fnaf eclipse x reader #sundrop x reader #moondrop x reader

[reidsaurora]

"Hot Chocolate, White Lies" ~ A. Hotchner

Summary: Aaron might be a pain in the ass to shop for, but at least he's cute.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader (Reader does wear makeup)

Word Count: 1,444

Content Warning: mild swearing, mentions of food, i think that's it!

Extra Notes: i took creative liberties with the things featured in this fic, sue me (also sorry for the sh!tty summary, it will happen again) // icon in collage is by @catsadams

Beta Read By: @theghouligan 🫶🏻

Originally Written: 10/12/2023 through 10/19/2023

Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!

Halloweek masterlist can be found here!

There were many things you were unsure of, but one thing you did know was that autumn was your absolute favorite time of the whole year.

The mornings when you were both home from cases usually started slow and sweet. You'd wake up ten minutes past your alarm, Aaron's chapped lips the only thing strong enough to awaken you from your slumber. You'd press to know why he allowed you to be late, but he'd just insist, "We have nowhere important to be. Besides, you just looked so peaceful. How could I ever wake you?"

When you finally rolled out of bed, his hands would be on your waist, his lips trailing soft kisses down your neck as the two of you made your way into the kitchen. You'd start on a pan of French toast while Aaron put on the coffee, stealing quick kisses as the two of you glided around the space, each of you already anticipating the other's every move.

Then, you'd eat together in the breakfast nook, the sunlight glowing all around him, somehow making his five-o'clock shadow and bedhead seem ethereal. The conversation would flow from topic to topic as easily as water flowed downstream. But this particular day, there was one topic Aaron seemed to be actively avoiding.

It was a week from his birthday, and while he knew better than to tell you not to get him anything, he would still put his foot down about making a big deal out of the situation. If one person found out, then they'd all find out, and truly, his only wish every year was to spend his birthday with the person he loved most, not the entirety of the FBI. He'd much rather have take-out and a cheap bottle of wine in the comfort of his own home than hors d'oeuvres and expensive champagne with people he hardly knew.

Still, you'd tried all morning to get him to crack and tell you what he wanted for his birthday. But his response was always the same: "You're the only thing I need, my love."

One somewhat pointless conversation and a plate of French toast later, the two of you were headed back to the bedroom to get ready for the day ahead. He'd head into the bathroom to shave, and you'd steal glances of him as you got dressed in the bedroom. Then he'd do the same, eyeing you with absolute love and adoration as you applied layers of makeup he still insisted you didn't need, even after years of marriage.

Soon enough, you'd arrive at your favorite little bookstore and cafe. Any onlooker would immediately be able to tell just how in love Aaron was with you, sporting a matching sweater you'd clearly picked out and his hand only parting from yours to open the door, which he insisted on doing any time you went anywhere together.

"Alright, I'm setting you free," he joked, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. "Don't cause too much chaos in the romance aisle, okay?"

You giggled, leaning up to kiss him on the lips for once. "I'll only squeal if they have anything signed by my favorite author."

And with that, he was headed off to the cafe side of the building, going to collect a cup of your favorite hot chocolate. Most people preferred to drink coffee while they shopped, but to you, nothing beat curling the sleeves of your sweater around your hands and sipping a cup of hot chocolate. Even after years of coming to this place, you still hadn't figured out how they made it taste infinitely better than other hot chocolate you'd ever had.

Once you were absolutely sure Aaron was in line at the cafe, you were bee-lining in the opposite direction of the romance aisle and over to the literary fiction section.

While you'd originally told Aaron you wanted to go to the bookstore under the guise of wanting to see if they had a copy of a new release you'd been excited about, you secretly had other plans. If he wasn't going to tell you what he wanted, you'd take matters into your own hands.

You peered around one of the shelves to make sure he wasn't looking, letting out a quick sigh of relief as you spotted him reading something on his phone.

You had all of about three minutes to find a couple books that he hadn't read, which was no small feat. Nearly every second of Aaron's free time was spent devouring a novel, and while you loved that he had found a hobby he truly enjoyed, it also made it devastatingly hard to buy him new books.

In roughly two and a half minutes, you'd managed to find three books that you were sure Aaron would love. Then, you were all but sprinting over to the romance section and grabbing the first book you saw, reading the back cover nonchalantly as your husband walked up.

You were reading the back of some novel about two rival scientists falling in love when Aaron got back with two cups of hot chocolate and a sugar cookie the size of your face. "Your drink, my dear," he said, holding out one of the cups.

You took the cup from him, inhaling that first anticipated sip of the warm liquid. "Thank you."

"You found anything interesting yet?" he asked, a hand meeting the small of your back.

You shook your head, placing the scientist romance novel back on the shelf and picking up another book with a beautiful pink cover. "Nothing much. No signed copies so you'll be glad to know I won't be disturbing the other readers with my squeals."

He chuckled, a deep sound that made butterflies go off in your stomach every time you heard it. "Thank you, I'm sure it's appreciated," he kidded. He took the tote from your shoulder, immediately registering the weight of the bag. "Nothing much?" he inquired.

Before he could open the bag to look inside, you were swatting his hand and snatching it away. "It's… an encyclopedia I promised Reid I'd get for him if I saw it."

Aaron cocked an eyebrow at you. "Since when do you go shopping for Reid?" he inquired, a chuckle on the tip of his tongue.

You wracked your brain for some kind of response that sounded at least halfway truthful. "He hasn't been able to find it anywhere and he knew we liked coming here, so he asked me to check next time we came."

That skeptical brow of his only raised itself higher. "Well, there's one flaw with your story and that's that I'm a profiler and I know when you're lying to me."

Before you could form a rebuttal, he was taking the bag out of your hands again. "Aaron, don't-" you barely got out the words before he was holding up the copy of The Midnight Library.

His brows furrowed as he held up the book, examining the cover for a moment. "This isn't a romance."

You let out an exasperated breath at his examination. "That's kind of the point, Aaron."

"Well, I thought we came to find a copy of that new book you've been looking for."

You ran a hand through your hair, letting out a small huff of amusement. "I suppose I should come clean. I did lie to you."

Aaron's mouth flew open in fake shock. "No! I never would've guessed."

"Not about that," you grumbled, slapping his arm. "About why we're here in the first place. I wanted to find you something for your birthday."

His features wrinkled in embarrassment, a small sigh escaping between his lips. "Well, now I look like an ass."

You were inclined to agree, he did kind of look like an ass. But he was a cute ass and you wouldn't want him any other way. Hands flying up to his cheeks, you pulled him down for a long and soft kiss. His wrinkles of slight mortification melted away as he settled into your touch, the scents of hot chocolate and new books taking over each of your senses.

Aaron was the first to pull away, moving his kiss from your lips to your forehead, before meeting you with an expression filled with admiration. "You-"

"-'Didn't have to get me anything.' I know," you finished for him. "But these ones seem really interesting and I thought that maybe we could read them together."

His mouth curved upward into that smile of his that was so sweet, so loving, so… Aaron. "If I'm going to share a book, I'm always going to hope it's with you."

-> taglist: @1234-angelika @lowsodiumfreaks67 @drayshadow @alexxavicry @cordyandbilliehavemyheart @the-lucky-ones311 @mercuryvapours @darkloverfox @sammyrenae68 @cherrycandle @asgardprincess97 @gh0stgurl @esposadomd @randomwriter1021 @eddieharrington @paintlavillered @lavhoes @rhyanishere @namorswhore @danielle143 @handsupforamiracle @topguncultleader @ah-blossom @reidselle @dungeons-are-too-cold @bbbbbbbbbbbbbbl @louderfortheback @reidsbookclub @annahargrove @cwritesforfun @maelartasch @lover-of-books-and-tea @juismissing @captainchris-pike

#imagine #imagines #blurb #blurbs #drabble #drabbles #one shot #one shots #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner imagines #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner one shots #aaron hotchner fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds one shot #criminal minds one shots #criminal minds fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #reidsaurora #reidsaurora's halloweek bash!

[alilbitlesbian]

Coincidences

@toournextadventure 's bird!reader meeting Wednesday's family without knowing it's Wednesday's family in absurd ways. (Au/blurb)

Uh reader x Wednesday vaguely, it is a Thing but just not mentioned!!! Very nice vibes.

No Beta we die like one of the 20 people that died in Wednesday.

Idk shy there's a gif i see people doing that all yhe time.

She/her pronouns used I think.

Im tired im going BeD

Private concerts

There's plenty of tired nights at Evermore. Plenty of nights where students will roam the halls in an attempt to lure sleep.

Today was one of those nights.

You overlook the courtyard, wings draped loosely over your back, primaries brushing the floor.

Leaned on the guard rail, eyes tracing the darkness, listening for the melancholy tunes of a cello, it should start soon, you liked to think of it as a private concert, on nights like these.

Your ears perked, feathers rustling as your wings raised from the floor, ready to take off at a moment's notice. Contrasting their human body, which only tensed the slightest at the intrusion.

With a glance over your shoulder, you spot the tall woman walking over, hips swaying entrancingly and arms out. She seems surprised to see you out and about, it is quite late. You don't recognize her, but she must be here for parents' weekend.

"Ah, I see I'm not the only one to search for solitude late on this night. I'm sorry to disturb you." The ethereal figure turns, black dress swaying with the movement.

Your feathers rustle, chewing the inside of your cheek, you consider saying, she was almost gone though, so without further consideration, you speak out.

"You can stay."

The woman looks taken aback, you turn your head back up to the sky, so she can make her choice without questioning eyes upon her. Quite shortly after your proclamation, you hear the woman walk up to the railing as well, settled against it. She looks up at the stars with you.

Neither of you say anything, and you assume that this will be how the whole night will play out, until either of you leave. Just staring at the beautiful night sky with a strange woman.

"Tell me, fledgling, do you like it here at Evermore?" The question takes you by surprise, already deeply entranced by the lights and the comfortable silence that had settled over the two of you.

You think for a second, lips pursed, then nod once with a slight smile, still not looking at the woman, despite knowing she was studying your expression.

"Yeah, I do.. It's a good place to be." The woman nods as well, you catch the movement un the corner of your eye, she looks down at the courtyard with a sigh.

"Sometimes I feel.. I have made the wrong choice, sending my daughter here. I know she does not wish to follow my or her father's footsteps, but Nevermore, to me, was always so…" Her voice caught, she seemed deep in thought.

"Freeing?" You supply, wings spreading slightly so the wind can catch your feathers.

The woman gives a light chuckle, nodding. The sound echoes dully against the walls, making you feel suddenly small.

"I don't know your daughter, but if you're this worried about her.. I'm sure that when you sent her here, you decided it with a reasoning.. Maybe you should trust yourself in that." You felt sleep tug at your limbs, shoulders dropping slightly.

Morticia stares at you, slightly slack-jawed, before her lips curl into a smile, pleasantly surprised.

"Anyone should consider themselves lucky to have a daughter like you." She murmurs, her tone of voice raw, loving. You stiffen.

Your eyes searched hers for any deceit, it being a simple, meaningless compliment, but those strangely familiar dark eyes only held honesty, a small smile on the woman's red painted lips.

Your heart swelled and broke at the same time, eyes shining with tears as you tore your eyes away from the motherly expression on her face.

"Thank you." Your voice sounded tearful even to your own ears. You felt her eyes on you, but she didn't pry, and what a relief that was.

Another few minutes of peaceful silence.

"Then… Why are you out here, dear?" You pause, wings flapping slowly in excitement.

"I'm… waiting, it should start soon." Morticia quirks an eyebrow, but nods, she leans on her elbows, watching sattelites passing far above you.

Ten more minutes.

It began.

Soft notes of a cello, carried by the wind, Morticia smiles.

You listen in silence, the raw emotions of night washed away by Tchaikovsky's delightful notes.

Eventually, the music stops, and the chill of night finally catches up with you.

Tired, you return to your room, though not before thanking the mysterious lady and giving you an entrancing smile.

"There's nothing to thank me for, thank you."

Fights (and potpourri)

"How's it feel, your daddy being a murderer?"

"Little brat."

"Nevermore freak!"

Your ears perked, wings flexing against the restraints of your harness, you knew those voices, you could almost hear Wednesday mutter about pilgrims.

You followed the voices to an alley, scattered items lay on the ground at the entrance, a schoolbag a bit further away, on the curb.

They must've dragged some kid into the alley.

You step into the entrance.

Pausing, you take in the scene.

Four guys, your age, are beating on some young kid, he struggles in the grasp of two of them while two others.. Grab a bottle of what looks to be blood?

Speaking of blood, yours is practically boiling at the sight, as one unscrews the bottle cap and moves to pour it over the nevermore kid's head, you bolt forward, pulling him backward and causing the blood to spill down his front and into his face.

Real blood, too, you realise, from the strong iron stench that immediately permeates from the boy, he looks down to his bloody clothes in horror.

The boys turn to you, the young kid looks to be crying.

You throw a punch at one of the teens holding him, narrowly avoiding a kick from one of the others. They throw the kid to the ground, turning on you.

One of them caught your cheek with his ring, you got one in the leg, causing his ankle to snap in the wrong direction.

He shouted, and one of his friends helped drag him out. You turn to the remaining two bullies, one seems ready to run, while the first, the one covered in blood, looked near-feral.

He didn't know what he was getting into, fighting the avian who would scuffle with werewolves for fun, a normie didn't stand a chance.

You avoided his throw, nailing him in the stomach, he folds over, seemingly about to lurch, the remaining friend grabs him by the elbow and pulls him out of the alley, you stand there, catching your breath as they turn the corner.

Satisfied they wouldn't come back, you turned back to their victim, he looked awestruck, eyes pinned on where the bullies just stood.

"Hey, are you okay?" You help the chubby kid up to his feet. He nods quickly, thanks you under his breath before rushing over to his emptied bag.

You follow him, collecting his things and handing them to him, he goes through his bag to check if he has everything, counting under his breath.

You don't question any of the strange contents of his bag, even when he, horrified, snatched eyeliner from your hand, you just smiled supportively.

Seemingly satisfied, he gets up, accidentally bumping against you as he whirls around to leave the alley, you steady him.

"Hey, are you okay?" His pupils shake, darting over your face, he swallows thickly and nods once.

Something snaps into place, like a puzzle piece.

"Hey, don't worry, I'm like you." You smile at his confused face, you taking off your jacket, you show the boy your restrained wings, he reaches out to them for a second before snapping his hand back to his side.

"Are you from Nevermore? Do you want me to walk you back?" He looks at you, silent, for another stunned few seconds, before he shakes his head.

"No, thank you, for helping me, and I'm sorry you got hurt." You turn as he scurries off into the busy streets, putting your jacket on and disappearing into the crowds yourself.

Weirdly, when you reach into your pocket for your phone, you find a small bag of dried plants and fruit, a nice aroma coming off them curious, you eat one. It's actually pretty good.

When you saw Wednesday at the café, she complimented you, saying that the blood drew out your murderous intent.

Despite wanting to, you didn't tell her about the strange encounter. And she didn’t pry.

Manicures

"Kill it!" A loud shriek reaches your ears, it's your free period, but with your feathers ruffled, you ran to the source.

You did not expect to find one of the youngest students balanced on a chair and shrieking- no, demanding someone kill that thing. You vaguely recognize her necklace, she must be a siren like Bianca.

You followed her pointing finger to a bag and jacket, which are strangely moving around. Quirking your brow, you approach it, lifting the bag to see a.. Severed hand?

You drop the jacket over it in surprise, then immediately reach over and lift it again.

Despite not being attached to a body, it seems pretty alive. It taps the ground in a way you deem annoyed, then tried to tug something out from under the bag.

Thankfully, the shrieking stopped, you help pull the nail polish out from under the bag with a chuckle, then offer your own hand for the strange thing to hitch a ride.

It took you a second to find a private spot to sit down with the hand. Near the forest, right on the edge of the Academy's ground, on a comfortable bench with an overhang.

"You're a curious little thing, aren't you?" The hand sat on your knee, doing what you'd puzzled out to be some kind of sign language, but you couldn't quite figure it out. At least it was obvious what he wanted, throwing the nail polish at you repeatedly.

"Look, I'll do your nails and then you need to leave the school, alright? Plenty of people here would hit you with a book if you startled them enough." You chuckled lightly, despite the fact that the hand looked slightly annoyed at your teasing.

The hand did what you assume is a shrug, but then sits down in a nice position for painting nails.

You quickly do a few coats of the shimmery blue, set the hand out to dry, pocket the nail polish and swing your bag over your shoulder.

"Again, no Nevermore."

And you left.

….

The next week he came back for a fresh layer of nail polish.

Ridiculous.

Training

This whole fencing thing was ridiculous.

You held the saber as intended, your wings, for once free from their bounds as you practiced each position, wings at least balancing your stances as you tried to keep a "proper" grip on the saber.

Your wings flap, catching you as you attempt a stab that requires a bit more fancy footwork than you can handle.

You sigh, rolling your shoulders.

At least you have the training area to yourself, the one upside to parents' weekend.

You straighten as the door opened, sloppy position dropping as you watched a chubby, shorter man enter the training room.

Speak of the devil..

He startled a bit when he saw you, then smiled in a way that immediately put you at ease.

"Hi sir." You mumbled, wings folding tightly into your back. He approached, curiosity peaked as he glanced at the way you held the sword.

"Please, call me Gomez." The man shook your hand, then gestured to the blade in your other one.

"You are learning?" You nod, lazily moving the sword in demonstration.

"Beginner?" He murmurs, the inexperience must be obvious.

"Not really, not to swordfighting, but to fencing.. Yes." You admit, a sheepish smile on your face. He smiles in return, patting you on the shoulder as he walks past and takes a blade for himself.

"I came here to revel in the memory of the old misery of Nevermore, but I think I would love to make new memories fighting you, instead, if that's alright?" You nod slightly, wondering why this cheery man would want to isolate himself during parent's weekend, before deciding it was not your place to pry.

He stands on the mat across from you, carefully, he takes you through the stances, giving you dirty tricks to use that may be dancing on the edge of legality, but will likely also give you an edge in combat.

He taught you how to turn your disadvantages into useful skills, sharpening your resolve as you redid steps, changed your centre of gravity, the blade still felt awkward in your hand, you still felt clumsy, but also secure.

Gomez challenged you to a battle, and he did not hold back, his sword almost took off your ear, but with high stakes like that, you felt further inclined to change tactics often, avoiding, striking, and barely getting by as you had to narrowly avoid his swings.

As swords clash loudly in the empty room, you get the distinct feeling that he's still holding back.

Maybe you're thankful for that.

Eventually, he wins, you end up on the floor with his blade above your chest. Quickly, he pulls you up, patting you on the back. A few of your feathers rustled and he glances at them in fascination before he let the elation and adrenaline of the fight really sink in.

"Wonderful! I haven't fought like that in years! You're going to become a great fighter, I just know it." You smile, flushed from the exercise.

You both sat down on the sidelines, you offered him some water and he took it.

"You know, you kind of remind me of my little viper, you have that bite, you know?" Animatedly, he made his hands make a bitting motion toward you, you laugh in surprise, the man smirking.

The gym mat stuck to your skin lightly. From outside, you heard Weems announce dinner.

"Ah, that is my cue to stop, are you coming to eat?" Gomez stood, then turned to you, after a second, you nodded, grabbing your bag as you headed to the improvised buffet.

You split up from Gomez pretty much immediately, one of your friends dragging you off to try the shrimp.

You didn't even get a chance to say bye to Gomez, but when you look around, he's already gone.

#Wednesday Addams x reader #morticia addsms #morticia Addams #Gomez Addams #gomez and morticia #wednesday #wednesday addams #this is so stupid #Pugsley Addams #thing #addams #thing stole my fuckign garlic bread #uh yeah #btw have a nice night

[themirokai]

Hey there Emotional Support Raven fans. It's been a while without Matthew content from me. But after a big ol' writing slump, I'm back! This started as a quickie ficlet to break my creative log jam, and while it's still pretty short (~1,400 words) and pretty silly and pretty rough around the edges (no beta!) I'm actually kind of fond of it and I hope you enjoy it.

Inspiration included a post I can no longer find about birds with leg bands being more successful at reproduction, this post about magpies, @mashumaru's love of hooded crows, and her help on this post and subsequent patience with my inane questions via DM. Thanks, friend!

Not much Dream in this one, it's more of a Matthew adventure. I hope you enjoy!

~~

The thing was, the crow looked really sad and for better or for worse, Matthew had a tender heart. 

“Matthew,” Lord Morpheus had said to him, “a pod of undinės wishes to give me a gift in celebration of the summer solstice.” 

“Do I want to know what a ‘pod of undinės’ is?” 

“A group of rusalka.” Lord Morpheus had blinked. “Mermaids. More or less.” 

Mermaids. Sure. It was far from the weirdest thing Matthew had seen since becoming the Raven of the Dreaming. 

“While I am grateful to them,” Lord Morpheus had continued, “I cannot leave the Dreaming on the night the gift must be bestowed. You will go to the waking world and convey my heartfelt thanks, as well as my apologies for not being able to attend myself, and you will receive the gift on my behalf then return with it.”  

“Convey thanks, give apologies, get gift, come back. Got it, Boss.” 

Which was how Matthew had found himself alighting on the shore of a large lake in Lithuania to the sound of ethereal singing. The undinės were jaw-droppingly beautiful, and completely naked except where they were artfully covered by their long, flowing hair. Matthew noted with a flick of interest that the sight didn’t seem to have the same effect on him as he suspected it would have, were he still human. What did get him excited was one of the undinės presenting him with a very shiny blue shell, and telling him that it was just for him to keep. Matthew gratefully clutched it in one of his claws. 

When it was his turn to talk, Matthew was quite proud of himself for listing at least five of the Boss’s titles in his introduction, and the undinės seemed perfectly satisfied with his thanks and his apology. One of them brought forward a glowing pink flower with a blossom nearly half the size of Matthew’s body. Each petal was shaped like a small fern and was an ombre of blush pink near the center to fuschia at the tips. She explained that it was a fern flower: a symbol of fertility that can only be harvested during the summer solstice. The undinės wished to present it to the Shaper of Forms in celebration of the fact that his kingdom was once again fertile ground for dreams. 

Matthew gently took the stalk in his beak, gave a low bow to the undinės, and took off.  

He had been about to fly up into the Dreaming when he saw the hooded crow hunched miserably at the base of a tree. Matthew knew this was not his problem. Knew that he had more than enough to deal with in the Dreaming without involving himself in the issues of waking world birds. But, well, there was nothing for it. He was a softy. The flower was glowing just as gamely as when it was handed to him: it seemed like it would keep. 

Matthew swooped down to land in front of the crow, and gently put the fern flower down so he could speak. 

“Hey. Are you okay?” 

The crow blinked at him. “Are you real?” 

Matthew shrugged his wings. He was used to this reaction from other birds. “I’m a dream, but I’m a real dream. I’m really here and I’m really talking to you, and I didn’t come from your imagination.” 

“Oh.” The crow blinked at the fern flower. “What’s that? It’s shiny.” 

“Magical solstice flower that some mermaids wanted to gift to my boss. King of Dreams. Don’t worry about it. Are you okay? You just looked… really not okay.” 

The crow studied the fern flower for another moment then looked back at Matthew and heaved a sigh, letting his head droop further. “I’m hideous.” 

Matthew cocked his head to the side. The crow… looked like a normal hooded crow: black head, wings, and tail, gray body. Nothing out of the ordinary. “Um.” 

The crow held out his leg. Secured around his ankle was a tiny box on a black band. 

“Oh!” Matthew gasped. “Did humans put that on you?” 

The crow nodded. 

“Does it hurt? Did they hurt you when they put it on?” Matthew felt anger bubbling in his chest. 

“No, it doesn’t hurt,” the crow sighed.

Oh. Matthew took a breath. “Is it uncomfortable at all?” 

The crow shook his head. “I mostly don’t feel it.” 

“Does it make it harder to fly or walk?” 

The crow gave another mournful sigh. “No.” 

Matthew blinked. “Sooo, what’s the problem?” 

“It’s ugly!” the crow cried. “Garagalar has been getting all the girls! The humans gave him a green band! Everyone just loves Garagalar’s green band! It’s so pretty! It’s so shiny! And - and this one just looks like - like a blah! Like I have an ugly, bumpy leg!”

Matthew - somehow - managed to swallow down his laughter before it emerged. “Let me guess, Garagalar is being a real dick about it too.” 

“If he strutted any harder he’d dislocate a hip,” the crow grumbled, drawing a claw through the dirt. 

Matthew did let himself chuckle at that. “Well, I’m not sure I can do anything about Garagalar and his strutting, but I can probably help you get that thing off.”

The crow perked up. “Really?” 

“Sure thing. Happy to help.” Matthew let go of the blue shell he had been grasping in his claw and stepped gingerly over the fern flower to get closer. “Let’s see it.”

The crow held out his foot and Matthew inspected the plastic band. 

“What’s your name, anyway, pal?”

“Cartagrawk. What’s yours?” 

“I’m Matthew. Nice to meet you Cartagrawk.”

“Matthew? That’s a weird name.” 

“Yeah,” Matthew agreed, “it’s a long story. Now, I think I can probably just bite this thing. My beak’s pretty strong.”

It took some maneuvering so that Matthew could bite the plastic without hurting Cartagrawk’s leg, and even then he wasn’t able to bite right through, but after a few minutes he was able to put a crack in the plastic and loosen it enough that Cartagrawk could work his foot out of the loop. 

“Caw! Thank you!” Cartagrawk gave an excited flap of his wings. 

Matthew fluffed up his neck feathers with pride. “You’re welcome.” 

Cartagrawk looked out into the forest. “Garagalar will probably still get all the girls with that stupid green band of his. But at least I’ve got more of a chance this way.” 

Matthew cocked his head. “Maybe we can give you an even better chance…” he looked down at the fern flower still glowing on the ground. “This thing has something to do with fertility…” Matthew picked up the flower in his beak and gave it a gentle shake over Cartagrawk’s head and back. 

Cartagrawk shook his feathers and drew himself up taller. Maybe it was a trick of the light but it did seem like his feathers had more of a shine to them. 

Matthew put down the flower and pushed the shiny blue shell closer to Cartagrawk. “Save that for someone special,” Matthew told him. 

Cartagrawk’s beak fell open. “Really? You’re giving that to me? It’s beautiful!” 

Matthew nodded. “Yeah, I don’t need it. And you have some serious wooing to do.” 

“Wow! Thank you! How can I ever repay you?” 

“Eh, ya know, pay it forward. Help out someone in need down the line. And don’t let Garagalar throw you off your game.” 

“I will! I mean - I won’t! I mean - I will and I won’t!” Cartagrawk was hopping with excitement. 

If he had still been human, Matthew would have grinned. “Nice to meet you, Cartagrawk. Good luck out there.”

Matthew gently picked up the fern flower and leapt into the air. 

“I hope,” Lord Morpheus said as he took the fern flower from Matthew’s beak, “that you will not make a habit of using unfamiliar magical objects for your own devices, Matthew.”

Matthew could tell he wasn’t mad, not really. He resettled his wings. “There’s no devices, Boss. Just helping out a fellow corvid. One who got screwed by some humans.”

“Be that as it may, had this been something more powerful or nefarious things could have gone badly both for you and the crow.”

“Well,” Matthew said, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I figured you wouldn’t have sent me by myself to carry the flower home in my beak if it was dangerous.” 

“Hm.” Lord Morpheus pulled a glass bell jar out of thin air and placed the fern flower inside. “Your reasoning is not unsound. And the act was kindly done. Come.” He extended his hand and Matthew hopped on to be transferred to Lord Morpheus’s shoulder. “I believe Lucienne and Jessamy would enjoy seeing this.” 

Together, they set out for the Library. 

------

I hope any bird experts will excuse inaccuracies in hooded crow behavior and bird banding technology. Thanks for reading!

If you're new to the series (or if you're not) you can find my master post of all the Emotional Support Raven stories and fan art here.

#matthew the emotional support raven #matthew the raven #the sandman #the sandman netflix #dream of the endless #miro does sandman #mirokai writes

[makeitp1nk]

For dear Eliza, as part of the WoD exchange for @drarrymicrofic, based on her prompt ethereal. A gazillion thanks to my beloved @crazybutgood for the always excellent beta. Inspired by The Dreamer Trilogy; the title is from the song with the same name by Bowerbirds. Hope you like it!

Overcome with Light

Drarry | Rated G | No warnings | 295 words

Two souls, ethereal wisps of dreams and fears and hopes and heartbreak, meet in that place before we come to be. Guileless and shy, they circle around each other, curious.

Loyalty, sacrifice, love, they see in each other.

You’re like me, they sing in the language of souls that have yet to be. Laughing and dancing, each moment together is an eternity spent reveling in their similarities and loving their differences. They find the jagged edges where they connect—two pieces of a larger whole—and swear they’ll never be apart again.

But all souls must come to be, and as one piece of the whole disappears from the home of souls, it begs, Find me. Find me. Find me.

Twenty mere mortal years later, in a crowded London pub on New Year’s Eve, two young men meet once again. They’ve been broken, but both pick up the pieces of their worlds and determinedly piece them together into something better than before.

The clock strikes midnight, and they’re alone in a sea of kisses. Cheeks rosy from cheap champagne, they glance at each other before one grins and says, “Scared, Malfoy?”

“You wish, Potter.”

Their lips meet once, a forced thing—all bravado. It’s electric and familiar, more right than anything has ever been. They kiss again, guileless and pure, curious.

Fingers entwined and foreheads touching, they silently search each other’s eyes. For what, they’ve forgotten, but it’s under their skin, in their hearts, dancing in recognition and joy.

It hits Draco first, his heart stopping before he wraps his arms around Harry and whispers, “You found me.”

Harry pulls away, confused, but then he sees the light in Draco’s eyes—the dreams and fears and hopes and heartbreak deep within. He gasps and whispers, “Oh, there you are.”

#drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #drarry microfic #p1nk writes #wheel of drarry

[heresathreebee]

[Takeshi Kovacs X Female Reader] 

Summary: I dunno pink latex and public sex? Not much of a plot in this one Masterlist

Tag(s): unedited/ no beta. 18+ | 4.3k words | Porn without plot, swearing, private sex club setting (voyeuristic), dom/sub dynamic (Sir/Kitten), petting and breast play, collared/light choking, cockwarming, unprotected (please and thank you wear condoms irl) reverse cowgirl, & a little rough at the end. 

“Well, this is backwards.” 

You couldn’t help but agree. For once, it was you standing at his door– about to ask him for his help (not that you needed it… except you totally could use the back up). Still, it irked you to have him point it out. 

“Are you going to let me in, or…?” Tak stepped out of the way and waved you in. "This place is like a prison cell. You live like this?" 

"You shoulda seen the Raven," he jested. His lame joke earned him a very irate lecture from the offended AI. "Relax, Poe, I was saying it was nice. In a luxurious and… macabre sort of way." 

"I would expect nothing less," you gave Poe a smile and asked him where the whiskey was. "Can you give us a moment, Poe?" 

"Certainly," the AI replied. He shot a deathly glare at Tak before disappearing into the ether. 

Now alone with Tak, you pour yourself two fingers and knock it back with a tight grimace. You never liked hard liquors like that, they burned your sinuses like huffing nail polish. But you were going to need it for the road ahead. 

"Since you're not pouring one for me, I assume this isn't a social call." Tak settles himself in a beat up loveseat– the closest thing in the sparse room one could call comfortable. "Should I be worried?" 

"No, no…" you steeled your nerves with a deep breath and your next words came rushing together on the exhale– "I need you… to attend a sort of… party. With me." 

Tak stared at you. 

"For my protection," you finished wishing you had another drink. 

After a long moment, Tak nodded. "Ok." 

"Ok?" Your jaw dropped. "That's it? Just ok?" 

"Pretty much, yeah," he said as he jutted his jaw out to mask the amusement in his face. "Anything else?" 

You sighed hoarsely and plopped yourself on the edge of his bed– more like an army cot really. "Don't– agree to anything yet. You don't know anything about this club…" 

"What's there to know," he shrugged. "I bring my guns, you do whatever it is you're doing, I kill anyone in your way." 

"Well first of all you are most definitely not bringing more than one gun they will not let us past the front door. And secondly…" you slumped against the wall with hot ears, unable to meet his eyes. "It's a club for people with a certain… dynamic." 

That vague explanation only served to make him smile wider. 

___________________________________________

Ok so… maybe your idea to attend this dom/sub party club was a little self indulgent. Anyone from your crew could have gone, but you volunteered. Anyone from your crew could have been your partner, but you sought outside help for this mission. You tried very hard to convince yourself that it was because you were the best one for the job and you wanted to wear an unworn outfit from your closet. 

Takeshi was waiting for you. You found him awash in the neon lights from the soup shop on the corner. He was lighting up his second cigarette and scanning the pedestrians on the street. Finally, his eyes landed on you– and his fresh cigarette landed in a puddle. 

The clicking of your heels slowed to a stop as you reached him and you stood for a long time in awkward silence. "What? What are you looking at?" 

Tak looked at you like you were crazy– did you not know what you were wearing? Instead of commenting, he sighed long and hard. His hand hovered over the exposed strip of skin between your top and your skirt as he guided you to walk beside him. 

"Let's just get this over with," he sighed as his fingers twitched. 

The barbie pink latex of your outfit squeaked with every swish of your hips. Your heels only served to enhance your swagger, and dialing the whole look up to a ten was the spiked pink collar around your throat. Unbeknownst to you, Tak couldn't keep his eyes off of you and he nearly tripped on some street trash. 

"One more thing," you grabbed Tak's arm and pulled him to stop a building away. "We have to sell this. Don Giacomo will never speak with us if we can't play our parts to a tee. Which is why you'll need this."  

You handed him a leash. His face was unreadable as he ran a thumb over the black leather. It was one of many surprises you had sprung on him these past two nights and he was rolling with the punches now. 

"So what should I call you?" 

"Excuse me?"  You had begun to pull Tak into a walk, now feeling a little tingly as your leash brushed over your chest and repeatedly caught on one of your very visible nipples. "What do you mean?" 

"Well," Tak said with a patronizing slowness, "most submissives have pet names.  So what are we thinking? Brat? Princess?” 

You clenched your jaw so tight that it hurt.

“How about Kitten?” You gave Tak a confused look and in answer, he flicked the faux cat ears on your headband. You swallowed your tongue and nodded your approval. His hovering hand finally settled onto your waist and your entire body warmed against the cool night air. “Kitten it is.” 

The bouncers in synth sleeves allowed you entrance with your forged electronic pass. You and Tak walked in sync (with you a tiny little step behind so you could push him forward but look like you were being pulled). You found a set of couches with a perfect vantage point of the entire lounge. There were dozens of people milling about with fancy drinks and staff bringing platters of illicit substances to sample. Exactly the kind of place to get an invite to an even bigger party. 

Or drown in a pool of your own blood. 

Thankfully, Takeshi was there. His hand at your waist grounded you mentally and physically as you both pushed through into the belly of the beast. 

"This seat taken?," Tak asked one of the patrons in this circle set of couches. When a man (a dom by the way his partners hung around him) shook his head, Tak thanked him with a nod and guided you forward. You started to sit on the furniture when you were stopped by a gentle 'tsk' sound. "On the floor, Kitten." 

You stared at Tak. He was enjoying this (of course he was). And you didn't possess the nuance required to pretend like you weren't because to everyone else, you were supposed to enjoy it too (god, you wish his commanding voice didn't make you so weak in the knees). Slowly, you slid to the floor, keeping your eyes trained on his face as you did and watching a flash of approval cross his features. 

He sat on the couch, lounging like he owned the place. One hand behind his head and the other lazing in his lap with the hand hold of the leash around his wrist. At least you weren't the only sub sitting on the floor. 

While Tak chatted up the doms, you surveyed the room. No doubt every surface in here was sticky by the end of every night, there were people having sex left and right. No matter where you looked, somewhere in your peripheral was someone getting blown or eaten out or penetrated. It made your heart race to think it might be needed to blend in… 

"Come here, Kitten." Tak's hand burned as it glided over your shoulder, between the valley of your breasts, and hooked around your waist. 

He pulled you haphazardly into his lap, maneuvering so you were between his legs and draped atop his chest like a human blanket. You smoothed your hands over his hips and captured his arm against you as if to beg him not to let go. It wasn't much of a stretch to your real desires, though, was it? 

You closed your eyes and pretended not to listen to the doms talk. Tak's questions were probing, and his voice rumbled in his chest in a way that made your nipples tighten. Tak, possibly unconsciously, lightly untangled his arm from your grasp and settled his big hand on your boob. The latex squeaked noisily (covering your own helpless squeak beneath it). 

"I've got a nice rotation of subs," said the sleazy Patrick Bateman type dom. "About seven of them. What about you?" 

Tak squeezed your boob again. "Just this one. I like my little Kitten, fits into my hands and around my cock like she was made for it." 

He said that last part into your ear and you peeked your eyes open. The tenting at the apex of his thighs had not gone unnoticed and was poking you insistantly on your back. Tak was looking right at you as he cupped your other breast and squeezed it, as if testing your reaction. 

As if he was asking how far you wanted to take this.

 In answer, you wiggled your hips under the guise of getting comfortable– and consequently rubbed your behind over his hard-on. There was some pride to be taken when Tak swallowed roughly and his eyes went dark. 

He sat up suddenly, thrusting you forward into a sitting position and pressing you hard into chest, effectively trapping you. "Go to the bar and get me a drink, Kitten." 

The fringe of his hair fell into his eyes and he released you to complete your task. You stood up on shaky legs and trotted over to the bar, dodging serves offering other delights. The instant you enter a dark corner, Tak calls you on your oni with an update. 

"Your guy just walked in," he murmured so as not to be heard by others. "How's about you drop off that drink and follow one of his subs to the restroom." 

"What for?" You ordered a whiskey straight and leaned on the bar to coax your skirt back down over your thighs. 

"If you wanna prove we're legit," came his gravelling (slightly smug) whisper, "you're gonna need to take one for the team. And this one is too big to take without some pregame." 

You nearly fell off the bar. You had felt how big his sleeve's thing was… he was bragging but it was deserved. You took a deep breath and prayed a little fingering would be enough. 

The walk from the bar to Takeshi was a blur. You bend at the waist to hand him his drink and he once again petted your strappy top as a reward. "May I go to the little girls room?" 

It felt a little ridiculous to ask but that's the game you were playing now. "Of course, Kitten. Hurry back." 

"Yes, sir." Takeshi's hazel eyes flashed at the honorific. 

Finally, you looked up and saw Don Giacomo entering the club surrounded by at least fifteen subs in neon green leather. Some covered head to toe, others wearing nothing but a strip of it around their necks. A gaggle of feminine presenting ones split off and made for the restrooms in the back. 

Tak wasn't clairvoyant (at least you don't think he is) but the set up worked like a charm. You found an empty stall and fixed your outfit one more time, listening to the subs chatter amongst themselves. 

"Did you see him??" 

"Who? The envoy?" 

"Oh my god, yes! Isn't he just gorgeous?!" 

This! This is the reason you needed to have Takeshi as your partner. He may be wearing a cop's face, but he was beginning to build his own reputation in it (Bancroft's little Meth parties probably helped some too). And it's definitely the only reason that you have found yourself pressing your heated back to the cold metal stall door and massaging your fingers over your inner thigh right now. 

Gotta take one for the team, right? A little pregame– except instead of downing shots of the cheap stuff at home to go get drunk at a bar, you were working yourself open to get dicked down in front of a bunch of gangsters and thugs by the deadliest man in the room. You should have been taking pictures to commemorate the occasion. 

You hiss through your teeth as you stuff two fingers into your entrance. From the moment Tak looked you up and down outside the club, you have been slowly dampening your satin thong to the point of ruin. There's no way your panties survive the night, none! 

___________________________________________

Takeshi was worried. You could take care of yourself, but you were gone for a while and Giacomo was starting to piss him off. He was just like every other fucking Meth– couldn't buy a clue despite his weath and sick in the head. If you weren't back soon, he was going to put a bullet between his eyes. 

That's when Giacomo's hungry eyes flicked from Tak's face to just behind him. You leaned over Tak’s shoulder and dropped a kiss on his cheek, and for once Tak let his instincts take over as he gripped the back of your head to pull you into a deeper kiss. He let you go and didn’t miss the way your pulse seemed to be pounding uncontrollably. 

“Missed you, Kitten,” he whispered against your lips, “thought you fell in.” 

Unconsciously, you rolled your eyes in front of everyone. “Starting to sound like my dad.” 

Kovacs didn't take offense or pretend to, he just chuckled and guided you around the couch. You were surprised when his hold changed from your hand to your hips and even more surprised when he seated you between his legs again. You settled back against him and it was like you never left. 

"My my," Don Giacomo purred patronizingly, "now that is endearing, isn't it?" 

You could tell by the way he was eyeing you up, he meant your sleeve. You resisted the urge to squirm under his gaze– it was your birth sleeve, with no visual enhancements like Meths could afford for their partners. You were shapely in areas and flat in others, your body bore scars and signs of aging and, well, life. You would not be shamed for that. 

Indeed, how could you feel any shame at all with the way Takeshi Kovacs caressed and held you? There was something worshipful and praising in his touch, not just over your erogenous zones but everywhere. Everywhere that his body made contact with yours filled you with a sense of reverence. You were something important, something special to him. His touch set your world on fire. 

"Don Giacomo, you never finished telling that story about that time you shot Dimi the Twin." One of the doms was eager to engage with the don and thankfully chose his favorite topic– a story about himself. While Giacomo was setting the scene, Tak was about to make one… 

“Hm, Tak?,” you frantically whispered. You were fine with Tak’s warm hands sliding down over your thighs, but then he was pulling the latex of your skirt up and exposing you to your company. “What are you doing?” 

"Whatever I wanna do," he answered back loud enough for your couch neighbors to hear. "Think you can handle a little job for me, Kitten?" 

You clenched your thighs to put pressure where you needed it (and consequently trap one of his hands between them). You couldn't gather the sense to speak so you looked up at him and nodded. Tak's eyes were soft and dark as he finally pulled your skirt over your hips and helped you sit up. 

The first instruction he gave was nonverbal– a small thrust of his hips that forced you to direct your attention to the straining bulge of his pants. Your hands were shaking from excitement as you struggled to remove the button from its hole. Tak offered no help, he only smirked and admired the way your breast jiggled from the force of breaking the button free. 

As you slid your hand inside his underwear to free his cock, Tak's voice came low and sultry. "What I want you to do is take that pretty, little cunt of yours–" 

You gasped as his hand clamped around your throat to maneuver you up to your feet and to slide down onto his thick shaft. 

"-- and keep my cock nice…" he grunted as you clenched around him unexpectedly, "and warm." 

With trembling thighs and shaking breath, you forced yourself to relax at the sudden intrusion. Tak was big. As in: oh fuck I thought I could eat a foot long sandwich but it turns out 12 inches is way too much. You sink down three more inches on him and gasp as his girth stretches you further and further. The rough scrape of the calluses on his hands was the only thing keeping your soul tethered to your body but not for long. 

“OooOOOh fuuuuck!” 

Tak’s big hands gently hold you as his hips raised to insert the rest of his cock. Luckily, the thickest part of his cock was the middle and the rest passed with ease. Once he was fully sheathed, your eyes rolled back into your head and you almost, almost came from the exhilaration of it all. 

"Good girl, Kitten," Tak praised, "goood girl. Now stay just like that. Stay still." 

Stay still? Stay still?! How the hell were you supposed to stay still? Sure, for a minute or two you needed to adjust, but then? Then he was under you and inside of you, stretching you out with an appendage begging to be rode on. And he wanted you to just sit on it?! 

Good girls obey but this was torture. You tried laying on top of him for a while. He continued to make light conversation with your target and ignored the ache and squeeze of your wet canal. When laying against him became too hot to bear, you shifted back into the seated position making both of you groan. Tak put a hand on your belly in warning. 

One swivel of your hips and his cock dragged with sweet sweet relief just a tiny bit. You didn't move further and the doms went back to talking, although you definitely caught them looking at you. A chill went up your spine for a moment– you had forgotten about the hundreds of eyes around you– and yet you felt a sudden greedy pride at your position. 

You were Tak's little Kitten, no one else would take him like you were doing now. They couldn't because he was yours. At least for now. 

You're not sure how many dizzying minutes passed with you breathing in circles and meditating on the small discomfort of being stuffed full, but eventually, you yelped embarrassingly loud as Tak hooked a thick forearm around your waist and sat up. 

The first words he had said to you in an hour were whispered filth. "I'm so proud of you, Kitten, you did so good sitting on my cock. You ready to come on it now?" 

"Yes sir," your voice was scratchy as the desperation of your words clawed their way up your throat. "Please make me come." 

Tak's hold on your waist hardened and he held your legs open by hooking them over his knees. "Show these people how good I can make you feel." 

And just like that, there were suddenly three fingers rubbing circles and putting pressure on your neglected clit. You growled and whimpered at the onslaught of pleasure, hips bucking for more friction and fingers clawing at the arm holding you down. He wasn't going to let you ride him after all, but he was definitely going to make you come. 

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, sir!" You managed to wrap an arm around his broad shoulders to support yourself and inadvertently open him up to access your chest. He stopped touching you for only a second to rip your top down and expose your breasts, then dropped  his hand back to the task and sucked a nipple into his mouth. 

You were a babbling mess, the panties he pushed to the side were cutting into your thigh and you just needed a tiny bit more. Which is of course the exact moment Tak chose to bounce you lightly in his lap and finally give you what you needed to finish. And finish you did– with a massive scream. 

Your vision turned black with dancing stars, gravity shifted and your throat was raw as your entire being convulses. Wave after wave of pleasure assaulted you, brought you to the edge of consciousness before dialing back again. You were barely aware of your labored breathing or the electricity still firing through your body. 

You come back to reality with your face no more than a foot from the floor. Your breaths came in ragged form as you tried to remember where you were. The only thing grounding you is Tak's strong grip. Gently, he pulled out of you and cradled you to his chest as you came back down from your orgasm. 

"Sorry, sorry," he chuckled, "we didn't mean to interrupt. Go on, don, you were at the part where you had your gun drawn." 

The don looked flustered and Tak was a little surprised to intuit it was his fault. That is until he remembered one of the many wild things he had said earlier– that all of his subs had once been doms. Giacomo would have eaten Tak alive if he wasn't so hell bent on finishing his favorite power trip story. As he started talking again, Tak picked you up and pressed his lips to your ear. 

“My turn now, Kitten,” he whispered and delighted in the needy little whimper that bubbled up from your chest. “You ok if I do that?" 

Your body was hyper sensitive and aware of every texture that grazed  your skin from the rough and borderline painful pinch of your latex to the canvas material of his pants to the stubble on his chin and the hairs on his forearm. Still, you managed a weak nod and steeled yourself for what came next. 

Tak kissed your salty brow and gently maneuvered you to lay down on the floor. it was as you had predicted earlier a little sticky, but your head was too full of clouds to lift yourself off the ground or change your mind. The only thing supporting you was Tak's strong grip, holding you up on your knees and pulling his pants down to his midthigh. 

As his cock slid back inside you, you managed only a small pitiful moan and took it. Tak closed his eyes as he slid home, amazed at just how slick and stretched out you were for him. He leaned over the glass coffee table for support and glanced through it to find your fucked out face and taking mental inventory of the way your mouth hung open with a little drool spilling out. He was going to stop but gave one gentle, slow thrust to test the waters and watched your eyes roll back in pleasure and knew he couldn't. 

Don Giacomo rambled on but all either of you could think of was your earthly connection. 

Normally the deliberately slow pace that Rick had chosen would have done nothing for him, but this time he felt his pulse quicken and a familiar sensation creep up his spine. You were so pliable beneath him, taking everything he gave you and following his every order. Tak bit the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted copper and knew he was done for. 

It was mere minutes before Tak's almost loving thrusts stopped. You felt the man push into you as deep as he could to fill you up and your oversensitive pussy milked him greedily for all he had, even managing the own light, rhythmic flutter of a second orgasm that ripped a broken groan from your spent partner. 

The rest of the night passed on as a blur to you. You could recall being cradled to his broad chest, the feeling of his come spilling out between your thighs, and the cool night air on your sweaty skin when he carried you out of the club. 

When you opened your eyes and saw painted walls and soft cotton sheets on an unfamiliar bed, you reached out for him. "Tak? Where… where are we?" 

Tak shushed you and carefully divested you of your clothes and his own before carrying you into a fancy bathroom to a tub filled to the brim with bubbles. "Don't ever tell Poe I brought you here, he would freak." 

So in some high class hotel, Tak helped you unwind and ground yourself from that special sub headspace that he brought you to earlier. He massaged soap to your skin and peppered sweet kisses on your shoulder until intelligence, awareness, and control returned to you. Once you were finally able to hold your head up by yourself, Tak told you that you got the invite you were looking for. 

"You did such a good job for me, sweetheart," he whispered the praise in his gravelly voice and helped you dry off before depositing you back on the bed to turn out all the lights. 

You didn't speak until he was back in your arms and revelled in the way his warmth seeped into your bones and caused you to drift close to sleep in seconds. 

"Call me Kitten now, ok," you murmured from the edge of consciousness. 

You missed the way Tak smiled with abandon, and he dropped a quick kiss to your collarbone to hide his face from view. "Yes, Kitten." 

@babblydrabbly @a-reader-and-a-writer @lorecraft

#three bees writing #🐝🐝🐝✒ #takeshi kovacs x reader #takeshi kovacs smut #black reader insert

[queen-dahlia]

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐦

Pairing: Gilbert x Emma

❝Desiderium : an ardent desire or longing especially : a feeling of loss or grief for something lost.❞

A/N : This was inspired from a poem by @atelieredux! Many thanks for being my beta-reader for this fic! Thank you for taking the time to read and sharing your points of view 🙏🏻💖 Please check out her amazing works! 😇😇😇 Also thank you as well from a dear friend in FB who added some fuel even though she wanna kill me after reading this 😆

WARNINGS : tw: major character death (not Gilbert) tw: grief, tw: angst, tw: anxiety, tw: depression (of the suitor).

She was his first love, and he pledged to protect her, but he felt worthless now as he brought her body closer to him, the love of his life dying in his arms.

She's too weak to move her hand and wipe away his tears, nor even expressed how much she loved him. As her eyes slowly closed, she prayed that Gilbert would forgive her for leaving the world so soon, for not fulfilling the promises of marrying him in just a few months and growing old together. She wished that he would find his happiness again. Even if that happiness no longer includes her.

The prince sobs as he holds her lifeless body to him tightly, hands trembling as he kisses her forehead and finally, on her lips.

~~~~~

Family and friends mourned at her tomb while the prince remained in his chamber, staring at her portrait with uncontrollable tears streaming down his cheeks.

~~~~~

Before falling asleep, and even in his dreams, all he could see was her smiling face.

The places where they would usually go now suffocated him because they are filled with their memories and promises.

Oh, how he yearned for her. He longed for her warmth, lovely voice, and gentleness. He missed her embrace when he returned home. 

He missed her telling him "Everything's going to be okay" whenever he was having a bad day. He missed the "I love you" before they went to bed and when they woke up.

~~~~~

Gilbert could never forget her, and every breath he took hurt.

She was the only one who accepted him and saw him as a human rather than a trampling beast. The only person who could always make him happy. The only woman who cared about him despite his cruel humanity. She was the only one who kept him sane and prevented him from conducting violent or murderous deeds.

She gave him love and hope. But now she was gone forever, abandoning him in this cruel world.

He may still be smiling as if nothing had occurred, but deep inside he was dying. His heart was constantly being torn apart, and his soul screamed in pain and misery. In the end, Gilbert became more ruthless and heartless than ever.

Days turned into years of agony. The prince always believed that this was his punishment for trampling on other people's hearts. For taking the lives of others before meeting her. For loving someone so pure as her.

~~~~~

His eyes fluttered open from the cold breeze. Gilbert sighed, wishing he could be with her in his dreams and not have to wake up. He stood up and brushed aside the dry leaves on his lover's grave.

When he saw her name again on her gravestone, memories of her flooded back into his head like a river. The way she spoke gently to him, how much she loved him, her charming smile, and how she looked him in the eyes with sincere affection.

He'd never felt so loved before. His experience was ethereal. Yes, it was a wonderful feeling. 'Love', on the other hand, was something he never wanted to experience again.

They died together, her physical life and his ungrateful heart. He believed in the next life and vowed to himself that he would always do the right thing for her.

Gilbert smiled as he kneeled in front of her grave... But it was a melancholy smile. Tears begin to fall from his crimson eye, and he whispered:

     "Someday, somewhere, somehow... You and I will be together again..."

#ikemen prince #ikeprince #ikeprince gilbert #ikeprince angst #gilbert von obsidian #tw: death #tw: grief #tw: depression #tw: anxiety #ඞmine

[auranova26]

Primordial Origins

In Cryas Darkstalkers, there are three ancient deities that are responsible for the creation of major aspects of the universe. They are known as Genesis, Primordial, and Ethereal. In a sense, they don't truly have a form that we could comprehend. The best way to describe each one's appearance is that of a sentient nebula or something akin to Beta Arceus: A mass of energy that has a mind and soul. With that said, allow me to share an excerpt about each deity and their role in creation. Genesis: "Before the aspects of anything, there was merely the endless void. From the void however, an aspect would not only begin to take shape but also thought. From this being, the first soul and mind would be born. As they gazed upon the endless void they were cradled in and then at their own amorphous form, ideas would come to form in them. When their thoughts were finished, their own form would condense down to a singularity until it couldn't hold. From the body of the first aspect, the seeds of creations had been forged and a cosmic explosion of unfathomable proportions had occurred. Many aspects were being created right before the original one's sight: energy, forces, clouds of cosmic dust, light, celestial bodies, space, time, matter...everything. The original aspect marveled with curious joy to see all that was happening before them. While their form was no more as it served the foundation for all, their essence would continue to exist. Sight that reaches all continually growing aspects of reality, the 'Genesis' of all only wished to witness how all will continue to create, grow, and change."

Primordial: "Between the weaves and waves of space-time was the nexus. Beyond the nexus was the void. In a pocket of the void, the seeds of creation bundled together into a mass of dust, energy, and light. This mass eventually moved as the first thought came to be. A soul and mind were born in an area beyond the nexus. As this primeval sentience was beholden to their surroundings, they looked upon themselves. Thoughts flowed as they began to paint the void with the aspects of creation. Clouds of energy laden dust would be the nursery for stars. Celestial bodies of different compositions were grown among the cosmic dust. Nebula rivers would flow through the void as energy and light spread. This sentient nebula was gleeful at seeing all the various aspects they were able to create. In their joy, silence and contemplation would occur. They were the only ones to bear witness to the marvels that were flowing before them. As they thought more and more, their mind slowly went to rest. As this cosmic titan would drift into slumber, their mind would slip evermore. The energy and dust of their form would eventually solidify into a mass of truly cosmic proportions. The star that served as the 'heart' of the sentient nebula would cool and create many different forms of matter. Near the end of all of this, their essence would slowly break apart as their eternal slumber marked their death. Despite no longer existing, this 'Primordial' essence served to create a realm with land that stretched beyond all idea of boundaries. Lifeforms would grow from the pieces of the star in time. Many of these beings eventually began to also gain a sense of awareness, with their own thoughts and 'souls'. Though with no idea why, they would gaze up towards the sky, beholden to the majesty of the cosmos before them."

Ethereal: "Much time had passed since the seeds of creations spread throughout the universe. Within a cradle in between the fabric of space-time and the nexus, a sentient nebula would be born from the bundles of dust and energy. Passing through a point in the nexus, this sentience bared witness to the vast universe before them. They were in great awe at all they saw. As they glided across the cosmos, they couldn't eventually help but feel lonely. All the wonderful celestial bodies they saw looked empty in their mind. With thought, parts of their aspect were taken and molded into various forms. These forms were able to develop thought and looked towards the vast cosmos with their creator. Compelled, these forms would glide across the various bodies across the universe, leaving behind the essence necessary for what would be life... souls. As the aeons passed, the celestial essence saw how life would live and then die. While countless saw the sky, in death they no longer could bear witness. Their minds were still, eternally in a never-ending slumber. Unpleased with this, the cosmic form set back to the cradle where they were born. Their creations following, these 'angels' were beholden to their creator using their body and essence to create a realm for the endless sleeping souls of the universe. Never would they sleep in the void, never would they truly die. Understanding, these children of the 'Ethereal' essence would go to bring the departed to the final resting place. Allowing them a chance to bear witness to the universe before them for all of the foreseeable future." Genesis was responsible for the creation of everything. Primordial, in a layer of the universe, was the creator of the realm of Makai along with Inkai, the afterlife of Makai. Ethereal was responsible for the creation of 'souls' and thus life as we think of it. Not only that, but they also created angles and the afterlife that would serve for all those in the universe, Reikai.

#cryas darkstalkers #darkstalkers #auranova26 #mythos #genesis #primordial #ethereal #ancient gods #deities #alternate universe #creation #lore #nebulas #Makai #Inkai #Reikai

[sugaredge]

frances' favourite songs from different bands

oasis - live forever

mazzy star - wasted

brian jonestown massacre - my man syd

smashing pumpkins - cherry

portishead - threads

cramps - human fly

nick cave and the bad seeds - henry lee (ft. pj harvey)

pogues - if i should fall from grace

flaming lips - she don't use jelly

nirvana - dumb (acoustic)

blur - country house

pulp - underwear

placebo - nancy boy

vines - get free

white stripes - blue orchid

jesus and mary chain - never understood

pavement - cut your hair

vaselines - son of a gun

knife - ny hotel

pixies - is she weird

travis - she's so strange

bright eyes - lover i don't have to love

gossip - coal to diamonds

queen - bijou

rolling stones - bitch

velvet underground - pale blue eyes

pj harvey - c'mon billie

neighbourhood - how

cranberries - how

veruca salt - volcano girls

muffs - oh nina

stone roses - waterfall

sounds - no no song

christian death - romeo's distress

elastica - connection

lost pigs - she said

peace - from under liquid glass

b*witched - c'est la vie

supergrass - diamond hoo ha man

trio - wildflowers

zero 7 - in the waiting line

vaccines - weirdo

knack - my sharona

abba - dancing queen

teskey brothers - carry you

foster the people - sit next to me

mgmt - time to pretend

kills - black balloon

butthole surfers - pepper

siouxsie and the banshees - christine

mercury rev - delta sun bottleneck stomp

television - friction

r.e.m. - orange crush

warlocks - shake the dope out

swervedriver - english subtitles

wire - i feel mysterious today

sleater-kinney - little mouth

young marble giants - credit in the straight world

raincoats - fairytale in the supermarket

flipper - ever

gang of four - ether

teenage fanclub - the concept

lemonheads - my drug buddy

violent femmes - color me once

cracker - low

la roux - i'm not your toy

bauhaus - bela lugosi's dead

charlatans - the only one i know

primal scream - zombie man

radiohead - high and dry

gogol bordello - start wearing purple

fleetwood mac - landslide

kooks - sofa song

boo radleys - wake up boo!

james - laid

manic street preachers - your love is not enough

telescopes - i fall she screams

spiritualized - cop shoot cop

spacemen 3 - lord can you hear me?

galaxie 500 - strange

slowdive - machine gun

dr dog - heart it races

fruit bats - humbug mountain song

edward sharpe and the magnetic zeros - home

shakespeare's sister - wish you were here

ash - burn baby burn

transvision vamp - i want your love

von bondies - c'mon c'mon

jet - cold hard bitch

beta band - dry the rain

drugstore - alive

sonic youth - 100%

glasvegas - go square go

smiths - william, it was really nothing

fountains of wayne - hackensack

lush - for love

kitchens of distinction - drive that fast

my chemical romance - cubicles

xray spex - oh bondage up yours

damned - machine gun etiquette

joy division - disorder

echo and the bunnymen - nocturnal me

chinese stars - shake the nurse

pink and brown - messy bessy get undressy

ravonettes - kill!

yeah yeah yeahs - zero

shins - caring is creepy

remy zero - fair

garbage - only happy when it rains

sleeper - inbetweener

verve - drugs don't work

lightning seeds - lucky you

sparklehorse - it's a wonderful life

bay city rollers - saturday night

beastie boys - paul revere

wannadies - you and me song

florence + the machine - dog days are over

gun club - she's like heroin to me

t.tex - 20th century boy

porno for pyros - pets

led zeppelin - whole lotta love

saboteurs - steady as she goes

patridge family - i think i love you

beach boys - help me, rhonda

chromatics - shadow

ok go - here it goes again

buffalo springfield - for what it's worth

simon & garfunkel - mrs robinson

doors - changeling

noisettes - don't give up

adverts - bored teenagers

eels - love of loveless

moldy peaches - nothing came out

magnetic fields - i don't believe you

stooges - gimme danger

teenage jesus and the jerks - orphans

wipers - romeo

public enemy - don't believe the hype

edie brickwell & new bohemians - what i am

jimmy eat world - pain

x - because i do

pretenders - brass in pocket

luscious jackson - naked eye

first aid kit - hard believer

runaways - i wanna be where the boys are

helium - baby's going underground

smoking popes - pure imagination

scarce - all sideways

scars on broadway - chemicals.

xx - angels

le butcherettes - henry don't got love.

descendants - silly girl

dead milkmen - punk rock girl

big star - daisy glaze

raconteurs - consoler of the lonely

witchcraft - please don't forget me

boomtown rats - she's so modern

distillers - dismantle me

now now - oh hi.

black sabbath - heaven and hell

spits - die die die

marked men - don't lose it

misfits - teenagers from mars

a tribe called quest - the jam

filter - hey man nice shot

harvey darger - flagpole sitter

catherine - four leaf clover

medicine - slut

bats - sir queen

cure - m

suede - she

weezer - pink triangle

moonpools & caterpillars - moonpool

archers of loaf - mutes in the steeple

melvins - shevil

mew - special

weepies - all that i want

dead kennedys - kill the poor

black flag - tv party

morphine - you look like rain

magnapop - lay it down

stranglers - peaches

queers - fuck the world

daisy chainsaw - i feel insane

beast make bomb - 1234

blouse - into black

rilo kiley - accidntel deth

gin blossoms - hey jealousy

velocity girl - i can't stop smiling

haim - forever

out crowd - drugsick

asteroid #4 - wicked wire

sex pistols - anarchy in the uk

cat's eyes - cat's eyes

esben and the witch - marching song

pastels - nothing to be done

broadcast - come on let's go

l7 - diet pill

sunny day real estate - friday

meat puppets - plateau

superdrag - do the vampire

tripping daisy - i got a girl

primitive radio gods - women

spacehog - cruel to be kind

godspeed you! black emperor - mladic

super furry animals - crazy naked girls

slits - i heard it through the grapevine

my bloody valentine - only shallow

dandy warhols - bohemian like you

black rebel motorcycle club - took out a loan

marcy playground - sex and candy

toadies - possum kingdom

presidents of the united states - peaches

sponge - slowed

verve pipe - freshman

dishwalla - counting blue cars

oblivians - i'll be gone

half japanese - charmed life

civil wars - poison and wine

felice brothers - whiskey in my whiskey

dresden dolls - girl anachronism

jawbreaker - boxcar

youth brigade - did you wanna die

agent orange - it's all a blur

cosmonauts - shaker

sugarcubes - regina

blonde redhead - 23

cocteau twins - lazy calm

magazine - shot by both sides

swirlies - pancake

lilys - dimes make dollars

chapterhouse - pearl

sleeping years - dressed for rain

feelies - let's go

drop nineteens - kick the tragedy

maccabees - toothpaste kisses

nada surf - popular

faces - ooh la la

hives - abra cadaver

tlc - waterfalls

sixpence none the richer - kiss me

aqua - barbie girl

nothing but thieves - wake up call

happy mondays - step on

darkthrone - transilvanian hunger

blossoms - cut me and i'll bleed

public access tv - metropolis

circles - gonna get to you

jacques - scum in a bottle

dead weather - treat me like your mother

johnny thunders and the heartbreakers - born to lose

#playlist #mixtape #this took so long

[ineedahugesticktobeatyou]

Back in february I took part to @malex-cupid‘s event for Valentine’s Day. I finally translated the three one-shots that I wrote from italian to english. Here is the last one. Thank you for reading ♥

Thank you to my amazing friend Viviana, the best beta reader I could wish for ♥ All errors are mine and mine alone.

Read on Ao3

The reception hall was a warm bubble filled to the brim. It was full of emotions, sounds, colors, perfumes that chased one another, mixing together like the waves of the ocean. Alex tilted his head and a picture made of musical notes and words formed in his brain in a flash of inspiration. He tried to grasp it, but a moment later it had already vanished, lost forever in the chaos of the day. Alex pondered if it was worth forcing himself to retrieve that idea but no, it definitely wasn't. He was quite sure his brain could have done better than filling his head with sugary verses, since there were already so many in his notebook that today’s were totally useless. Alex focused again on his sugar overdose. He was happily shoveling cake into his mouth, when Kyle sat near him, collapsing on the chair like the most exhausted man in the world. Alex thought it was a quite dramatic reaction. After all, he just moved chairs and tables out of the way to turn the reception hall into a ballroom, not a big deal, right? Even so, could he really lose the chance to make fun of Kyle?

«Getting old is a horrible thing, you get tired so easily.»

«Ah ah, you're such fun! We are the same age, in case you forgot. It's just that you hadn't been sentenced to forced labor by your alien better half.»

Kyle was exaggerating, but he was right. Alex had been relieved of any duty by Michael's unquestionable orders. In the past, Alex would have reacted poorly at something like that, as if his disability implied some sort of failure on his side.

«I supervised the work.» Alex shrugged calmly.

«Of course. From a distance. And eating cake. Very efficient of you.»

Alex looked Kyle in the eyes and slowly ate another piece of cake to emphasize it. «Very efficient!»

Kyle snorted, amused beyond measure. They were tired and happy and everything seemed more fun than it was in reality. More beautiful. More intense.

The darkness coming in through the windows made the lights more vibrant and the tiny candles on the tables shined like little stars. Alex chuckled at himself, at those comparisons that kept exploding in his head, ethereal, unwanted, and so very dull.

«Everything okay?» Kyle asked.

«Yes, don't worry. It's just these ideas about the songs I could write that keep popping into my mind.»

«What's the problem? Aren't they good enough?»

«Uhm, I don't know! They disappear too fast to really know. Maybe I'm just too tired to judge it clearly.»

«Or maybe there are so many sensory inputs and too much information to process, that nothing really sticks.»

Alex didn't know if Kyle's explanation was correct, but it made sense to him just because it sounded vaguely scientific.

«Or maybe you are just tired, who knows!» Yes, all in all, that was still the most likely thing.

The lights went down and, in the blink of an eye, Max and Liz found themselves in the middle of the dance floor. She was a vision in white, the most beautiful bride Alex had ever seen, and Max... Max was the personification of the heart eyes emoji.

«They are disgustingly happy!» Kyle commented with a smile filling his entire face. Alex agreed. They watched Max and Liz holding hands. The grip shifted into a hug, and then in a small circle of love that began to move along with the music. Alex finally understood. It hit him as a revelation. He finally realized that all the sweetness blossoming in his head today had less to do with Max and Liz's wedding and more with what he was going to do.

That was because he wanted the same thing for Michael and himself and he was finally close to make it happen. It was exhilarating and he felt a bit stupid realizing it at that moment as if he hadn't already planned every small detail - as if he had not tried his speech again and again, alone in front of the mirror, feeling ridiculous and crazy in love. Disgusting, as Kyle would say.

«I'm going to ask Michael to marry me!»

Kyle stopped breathing for a moment, like he suddenly didn't quite remember how to do it. Alex had no intention of telling him about the proposal, but his emotions were too strong to be contained and the words slipped out of his mouth without warning.

«Don't say anything!» he hurried to say out of breath with the corners of his mouth lifting in the hint of a smile. Kyle reached over to him, grabbing his arm.

«Alex!»

«No, Kyle, I'm serious. Don't say anything to anyone!»

“Because this is Max and Liz's day and I don't want to steal the spotlight.”

“Because we already had our plans ruined by all of you last year.”

“Because I want the moment to just be ours, Michael and mine's.”

Alex had a lot of reasons to convince his friend to keep silent, but he didn't have time to use any of them. Michael joined them at the table with Isobel clinging to him - one of her hands eagerly reaching out to Kyle.

«Let's dance!» she exclaimed with her voice muffled by the loud music. Kyle grabbed her hand and Isobel dragged him to his feet. He looked frantically at her and Alex with a silly little smile on his face that threatened to screw everything up.  

Alex swallowed a nervous laugh, braced himself with all the self-control he could master and reached out both hands to Michael.

«Shall we dance too?»

Micheal didn't wait any longer. He intertwined their fingers together and pulled Alex to his feet, and then against him. Eyes on eyes, they made their way towards the center of the hall. Even if he had sensed something strange in Kyle's attitude, Michael wouldn’t have given it any importance, totally consumed by Alex and by his hands along his back.

It was a matter of priority, Alex thought amused - the curve of his smile pressed with a kiss on Michael's neck.

Not far from them, Kyle and Isobel were dancing too, holding each other tight. Alex caught Kyle's eye.

Don't say anything!

---

The music went from one slow dance to another and then to something much more animated that Alex managed to escape. Rosa asked for a dance with Kyle and he took the opportunity to gently push Michael towards Isobel. He earned back a slightly betrayed look, as if making him dance with his sister was an offense. It obviously wasn't and Michael's fake disappointment disappeared the exact moment she clung onto his neck.

Alex crossed the dance floor. His friends and family all around him. He smiled at Liz dancing with her father, returned the kiss that Maria blew at him from her place in Gregory's arms and then, finally, reached the door. From the opposite side of the room a burst of cold air welcomed him. The contrast with the indoor temperature was so strong that, for a moment, Alex was breathless. On the upside, however, it took away all his tiredness and replaced it with a staggering lucidity. Rows of red and white fairy lights were draped on the trees' branches and, under one of them, a swing slowly moved. There was a blanket on the seat and the heart-shaped confetti used at the photo-shoot all around. Obviously, a wedding on Valentine's Day couldn't fail to overflow with hearts, true and metaphorical.

Alex sat down and the swing rocked under his weight - back and forth, back and forth - and his breathing followed the rhythm. However, he failed to disengage the heart stuck in his throat, the anxiety that was growing slowly under his skin. So, he resigned himself to a nervous waiting, consumed in a succession of deep frozen breaths.

When Michael joined him outside - the shirt half unbuttoned, the tie shoved in a pocket and a bottle of champagne in his hand - Alex felt like he had waited too long and, at the same time, not at all.

«It's freezing out here. Aren't you cold?»

Michael wedged himself into what was left of the seat and ended up pressed against Alex, keeping the contact from shoulder to knee.

«I needed some fresh air.» Alex shrugged, the swing rocking, repetitive and hypnotic, back and forth as before, only a little faster.

«Ok, but no reason to freeze to death.» Michael wrapped the blanket around them both - a cocoon of warmth that forced them even closer together. «That's better.» he mumbled satisfied against Alex's cheek, enjoying the moment of perfect silence in which they found themselves. Not far from them, the party was going on and, from the windows, they could see the newlyweds still dancing.

«It was a beautiful day, wasn't it?»

It was Alex who broke the silence.

«Yes, I don't think I've ever seen Max so happy. Although, I don't think he paid attention to anything but Liz.» Michael shook his head amused.

«I can understand! I mean, not in the sense of noticing Liz only - even though she is beautiful -, but in the sense of not really noticing the rest. I mean, after all, nothing matters more than them.»

«Uhm so, when it’ll be our turn, will it be the same for us? Won't I notice anything but you?» Michael looked up at the sky and pretended to think about it furrowing his brow. «More or less like usual, then! Nothing new on that front!» He joked, a wet, popping kiss that rang right under Alex's ear.

«Come on, be serious!» Alex laughed and tried to escape from Michael and his scratching beard.

«I'm always serious when it comes to you!»

Alex knew that - he had known it for a long time now - and it was rock solid awareness, something that made his next words sound unexpectedly intimate.

«You’d only see me, that's right, and I'd only see you.»

Michael smiled like a kid on a Christmas morning. «I would like that! A lot!»

«Me too! And it would be a day like this, full of happiness and love. Maybe with less people, though.»

«Oh yes, definitely fewer people, definitely!» Michael nodded slowly - his eyes a bit unfocused as if he was already imagining the scene. «It may be a spring or a summer wedding… surrounded by blooming sunflowers, maybe?» Michael spoke to himself more than Alex, but he felt every word, each one of them making his conviction stronger.

«I don't know how much Isobel would really approve of this program.» Alex didn't really think it could be a problem but he said it anyway, to buy more time and to find the last bit of courage that was needed.

«We can always elope and get married in secret, just you and me!»

Alex tilted his head to study Michael - his hair a messy nest of curls and his gaze soft under the fairy lights above their heads. «For real?» he asked in a whisper, because he knew this was something that would suit him but not Michael, with his constant need of having the people he loved around him.

«Really, Alex! The only thing we need to get married is the two of us. You and me, that's all. Where, how and when it doesn't matter, I just need you. Only you.»

These were things that had been said many times since they got back together, things that they had whispered to each other in the endless nights spent loving one another, things that they had promised by imagining their future. This was the final push that Alex needed to make that future become a reality.

When Alex kissed him, Michael tasted like champagne and cake, one hand gripping his boyfriend's knee, the other digging under his own jacket. The Valentine's card between his fingers was a little wrinkled - the corners already worn out. Perfectly imperfect. Like them.

It took Michael a few seconds to shift focus from Alex - his lips, the kiss, the hand on his leg - to the card in front of his eyes. When he finally took it, he chuckled, because it was such an unusual thing for Alex to do. Between the two of them, Michael was the one with a penchant for Valentine's cards. The one from this morning had You're one in a universe written in bright silver cursive within a galaxy of planets. It was still on their bed, somewhere between the crumpled sheets and a forgotten breakfast with no regrets on the nightstand.

The one in Alex's hand, however, was white and entirely covered with small embossed hearts. Inside, there was a single giant heart with a stylized profile. At the center, it was written Be Mine, Valientine! in shiny red letters. Michael laughed, totally unprepared when, in front of him, he found Alex's open hand and a ring. His laughter turned into shocked, surprised sobs at a frightening speed.

«Will you marry me, Michael? Because I want it so much that I can't breath. I want to marry you and I want it to last forever, so that we can spend the rest of our life together.»

«Alex…» Michael mouthed the name, incapable to do anything more than gazing in adoration at his boyfriend - fiancé? - and the ring in his hand.

«However many years we have left, I want to spend them all with you! I want nothing else ... Will you marry me, Michael?» Alex asked again, his words full of desperate urgency, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest.

«Yes, Alex, yes, forever yes...» Michael yelled and then whispered it. His hands sank into Alex's hair and insatiable and possessive kisses burnt on his skin.

The air was electric around them. Alex didn't know if it had anything to do with Michael's power or if it was just their happiness, so intense to seem a tangible presence. It was surreal. It was amazing.

«The ring! Where is it?» Michael moved away far enough to search Alex's hand between them. A moment later, the ring slipped shakily on his finger.

«We are getting married! Alex, we're getting married!»

Michael laughed and cried, all at the same time, incredulous and amazed, as if only now, with the ring on, he really believed it.

«We're getting married!» Alex confirmed and, a heartbeat later, Michael was kissing him again - lips, cheeks, neck, a rain-pour of I love you! wet with tears.

From inside the reception hall, through a glass window, Kyle waved with a crazy smile on his face, both thumbs raised in the most ridiculous sign of approval possible. And Alex loved him. Almost like Michael. Almost, but never like Michael. Never ever as much as Michael.

«Happy Valentine's Day, baby!»

#malexcupid22 #malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin #malex #kyle valenti #roswell new mexico #rnm fic #dani writes in english #my fics #personal

[theofficersacademy]

It’s May! We’re nearly halfway through the year! But more importantly, it is once again the month of TOA’s annual Ethereal Ball event! Please keep reading for more information.

Housekeeping

Current Month in TOA: Ethereal Moon

We’ve added new missions to the Golden Deer mission board. Check them out here, but don’t forget that you need a Golden Deer-affiliated faculty or student to participate in the mission tasks.

The Ethereal Ball will officially begin on May 12th this year! More information will be released later.

With Tumblr’s announcement that the Beta editor will soon replace the Legacy editor, the mod team will be updating the Newcomer’s Guide accordingly. In the meantime, you can read guides in the resources channel of our server or reach out to the mods directly for more information about how to trim reblogs with the Beta editor.

Related to the above announcement, please keep complaints about the new editor to a minimum. The RP community has survived this long by adapting to every new and often-counterintuitive update Tumblr rolls out, and we’ll adapt to this one as well.

TOA’s Recap Doc is now up to date! Whether you’re a newcomer curious about past events or a veteran wanting to stroll down memory lane, feel free to take a peek! 

New personal weapons for the following characters have been added to the Rank Chart: Alear, Lumera, Veyle, Sombron, Gullveig, Nerþuz, Freyja, Seiðr, Thórr, Ymir

Please don’t forget to leave feedback on our feedback poll for this month! Thank you to those who left their thoughts and suggestions concerning future BOELs on last month’s poll. For May, we’d like to hear your thoughts on event NPCs being available for mission boards.

Other

May Mun Birthdays: Erica (3rd), Kano (6th), Rai (17th), Elf (25th), Sam (28th), Koko (29th)

May Muse Birthdays: Caeda (3rd), Tailtiu (4th), Freyja (4th), Delthea (5th), Cadros (14th), Chrom (27th), Mercedes (27th), Bunet (30th), Matthew (31st)

First-year mun anniversaries this month: Ven (16th), Limit (23rd), Kiki (23rd), Annie (29th)

Second-year mun anniversaries this month: Nel (4th), Nic (4th)

Third-year mun anniversaries this month: N (23rd)

First-year muse anniversaries this month: Lucina (15th), Monica (23rd), Patty (24th)

Second-year muse anniversaries this month: Elincia (4th)

Third-year muse anniversaries this month: Leo (14th)

Muses who have been in the group for a solid year will also be granted an Academy Brooch to put in their inventory. It doesn’t do anything. It just lets others know your character has been around the block. These characters are also granted a new opportunity to change houses if they wish to do so.

- The House Leaders

#may newsletter #toa newsletter

[oftincturedwords]

chapters : 1/1 fandom : tombstone ( 1993 ) rating : t+ chapter warning(s) : canonical character death , smoking , drinking , alcohol mention , grief / mourning , open ending , etc. characters : wyatt earp , mentioned doc holliday pairing(s) : gen. doc holliday / wyatt earp additional tags : hurt no comfort , angst , memories , remembering , flashbacks , etc. prompt : ' haunted ' word count : 775 ( one - shot ) summary : wyatt visits a saloon & sees a ghost a/n : so this was a writing exercise that i did with my sister on description work based upon a single word , mine was 'haunted' & this what came of it. it's under 1k words so i am posting it here rather than my ao3. i have no beta thus all mistakes are mine. disclaimer : i do not own any right to tombstone ( 1993 ). neither am i associated with the production companies , the historical figures these characters are based upon , nor any of the actors who portray these characters. i make no money off any of stories , this is purely for entertainment purposes.  disclaimer #2 : this is based solely upon the film’s portrayals & is a work of historical fiction. i mean no disrespect nor defamation upon these historical figures these characters are based on. neither should this be taken as facts or a statement on beliefs / thoughts / actions / etc. of these mentioned historical figures. this story is derived purely from the film as a source. 

stepping into the room equally as hot yet far more humid than the air was outside, clouded with a haze of visible smoke from spent cigars or rolled cigarettes, wyatt single - mindedly headed straight for the bar. ignoring the uncomfortable stickiness of sweat along his collar and along the creases of his suit, it wasn't a new sensation after all these years spent further south than he had in the north.

a large moustached man with stern countenance was filling glasses with beer or whisky depending on the order. the other simply nodded in greeting to his approach and awaited whatever he was to order. returning the gesture with an order for a mere pint, his voice pitched to be heard over the clamour of the busy atmosphere yet not so for it to carry past the barman’s ears.

there was a gleam that caught his eye as the barman’s left, drawing his attention like a whipcord towards the thin string of poker tables lined about the right hand side of the establishment. a pitched laugh of triumph , a high near cackle of elated victory from a man of loose auburn hair and a deeply patterned waistcoat had him leaning unsteadily onto the bar at his side.

near collapsing against the solid weight of the intricately pattern wood, heart stuttering against his ribs as his breath froze within his lungs, wyatt fought to keep his feet beneath him. unconsciously knowing he was already making a bit of a spectacle of himself to the men behind him, yet he was helpless to his reaction borne from the yearning in his heart.

the air held a near ethereal quality due to the smoky vapour that heavily surrounded the table , obscuring the details of one's features and greying out the rest of the room. seeming to soften the lines between reality and anamnesis. drawn forth , plucked from the recesses of a long ago memory that lay no less treasured by years elapsed nor could time ever hope to degrade their vividness. no matter how much it and the disadvantages of ageing wished to erode at its edges or fade their brilliance, to work at it as it sought to erase their presence entirely.

nought could dampen them.

for in that moment , wyatt was twenty years previous. no longer greyed in his hair and moustache, nor bothered in his joints by the advancement of his years , but standing tall and curiously observing a game like no other be played by a skinny man with keen eyes and a deep accent. polished and gentlemanly - like in both presence and speech, wiping clean the table of every cent of any who dare buy in to play.

the hearty chuckle emitted from a satisfied victor , the sweat dampened hair falling into his face as he lent forward to collect his winnings with wide swept hands to pull its towards himself. the way the dim glow of lit lanterns gleamed off the shinning nickle of a pair of navy colts and the stylish embroidery of his burgundy waistcoat, the gem of the pin in his tie had added to the refined look of the man.

so very out-of-place this man had been at further inspection , yet perfectly did he fit in with the gamblers and drinkers that surrounded the tables and milled about the place. cat-like grace in the movements of his thin hands as he handled the cards and sorted his payout, whilst intelligent green eyes kept both a count and eye about the room. scrutinising yet merry in their light, striking and captivating when they had glanced up to meet his own.

yet it was then the reverie was broken , shattered with a crystalline fragility for those eyes weren't green nor any shade close as the other cast an askance look towards him. perhaps wondering why he was being stared at so , by a complete stranger at that.

however , wyatt could care less about appearances at present , for his breath failed to return with any sort of ease , for haunted was he by the facsimile of a man that had just moment ago sat before his eyes once again.

in those precious few ticks he’d been granted reprieve from the grief that lingered at the back of his kind and dogged at his steps during the every lulling quiet that peppered through his days. phantom-like in its appearance yet so very grounded, a glimpse into a time long past. one so ached for, despite the distraction of life continued on brought with it.

no amount of wishing nor wanting , neither the fancies of waking dreams , would change what death had already claimed.

#bayze's writing #my writing #tombstone #tombstone 1993 #wyatt earp #tombstone wyatt earp #doc holliday #tombstone doc holliday #i didn't really edit this overmuch because i feared i would grow to hate it as my muse has been flighty lately so i apologise for mistakes #i may come back to it & edit when my muse is in a more amicable mood

[crazyskirtlady]

hi dear crazyskirtlady, ii hope you are fine and wish you a happy new year 2023. i am searching for tools to charge images especially with blueprints of substances and drugs. charging any digital image files (jpg, png) with this tool. or i want an printable mandala image file that can give me and let me feel all the effects from any drug, flower essence, vibrational medicine and cannabis strains (all benefits). Maybe you could help me? Have a great day and greetings from germany. Benni

There are several different ways I personally go about charging my hyper_visuals (images/photos)

Audio frequencies

Symbols or sigils

Radionics or Psionics

Biophotonics or Morphic fields

1. Audio frequencies can be found all over the internet in the form of binaural or isochronic tones, rife frequencies, solfeggio frequencies, alpha, theta or beta waves etc. It is easy to find tones of frequencies that are specific to the substance or ingredient you wish to use. I personally play the frequency over the image or object several times if not for a whole entire day to imprint the desired vibration. The addition of a quartz crystal grid or spear can be helpful to this endeavor as well. This method is easy, quick and free and in my experience quite effective!

2. Symbols or sigils or any type of glyph or such is straight forward for any practitioner of witchcraft or chaos magicka or the like. One would create the symbol/sigil as a stand in for your desired affect or even specific ingredients, concentrate your energy upon it then overlay it onto the image. In the case of blueprints for specific substances or such one could just overlay the blueprint exactly onto the image thus charging the image with the desired affect. This method requires a bit of skill with ensigillation and the use of photo manipulation programs for best effect.

3. Radionics/Psionics if you have never heard of Radionics or Psionics I would recommend diving down those rabbit holes if you are interested in weird and alternative technologies. Radionics also known as Hieronymus Machines is an alternative technology which can use the electromagnetic field that humans naturally generate (or any other electromagnetic fields) to imprint programming or codes either onto other humans in the form of healing or onto even pieces of paper in order to manifest desires. Psionics is the application of mental frequencies (electromagnetic brainwaves) to whatever medium is being used (in this case images) to cause sympathetic vibrations in the recipient. An example would be taking an image of clouds and using the Radionic technique to imprint the Psionic frequency of lucid dreaming into the image if done powerfully enough when the image of clouds is viewed it would trigger lucid dreaming. This method is most potent, and after a bit of practice and study into the technology and techniques can become the most potent for many different applications as it can be applied long distance.

4. Biophotonics also called Morphic fields are intangible energy signatures which flow through everything in the cosmos, the study of this energy field began with Orgone/Orgonite and I would also recommend plunging down that rabbit hole as well for in-depth understanding of eloptic and etheric fields. With concentration, meditation or induced trance states one can tap into the energy signatures of people, plants, animals etc. and harness that energy field to be used to empower themselves or coaxed to "enchant" an object or even a sound or image. This method requires the most intense study and concentration, but nearly no physical materials whatsoever.

In my opinion for the ends you are seeking I would recommend using the audio frequencies method, as it is the simplest, and you can find exactly what you are looking for freely, including specific frequencies of plants with all their medicinal benefits. Use the frequency to imprint your image by simply playing the frequency over the image, or if the image is a physical copy place it over the speaker, add a clear crystal quartz over the image to boost imprinting or even a clear glass of pure water can act as tunning medium to increase the frequency programming. I hope this long winded ramble will be of use to you, blessings and success to you on your Magickal journey 🙏🏾

#tumblr asks #questions #magickal tools #charging #hyper visuals #meta sigils #imprinting #programming #morphic fields #eloptic energy #metawixen #chaos magick #technomancy #witchy #frequencies #as always feel free to hit up my dm with more questions #I am always happy to help #strange and weird rambles #journeys to new magicka #information