#i am very happy with how this turned out even if i skipped some shading or details

[ey-there-little-guy]

tfw holding an endearing little friend :] +2 closeups under read more!

#FFSO au #dsmp g/t #giant!tubbo #tiny!ranboo #dsmp gt #mcyt g/t #i am very happy with how this turned out even if i skipped some shading or details #look!! it's them! smiling! awww #references fr are The Best #sorry for the inactivity. my focus has been elsewhere but i'm still thinking about the flatmates #hoping to be more active again soon #cw burns #burns cw #just in case idk #ey.drawing

[soap143]

I have a suggestion: Lee! Minho ler! Hyunjin.

Can it be that hyunjin is in a ler mood and decided to go attack Lee know because he’s been pretty giggly all day xx

Look how the turns have tabled… Love your idea, anon. Seems so sweet! Happy reading.

(Btw after reading @v--143 fic, I was inspired and decided to write this fic from Hyunjin’s pov)

•• ━━━━━━━ •• ❖ •• ━━━━━━━ ••

Hiding

lee!know

ler!hyunjin

•• ━━━━━━━ •• ❖ •• ━━━━━━━ ••

I was exhausted. We had a whole lot of work to do today, hence my bad mood. Not to mention that Minho had the bright idea to keep us longer in dance practice. Obviuosly, I was infuriated at the news, but had no choice…

The leader of danceracha seemed to be full of energy this busy day. He kept on annoying everyone and being all clingy and giggly. His behaviour was deeply suspicious.

“Come on, if you guys get this very last part we can all go back to the dorms!” Lee Know announced. I was jealous. His body moved so fluently, almost effortlessly. Meanwhile me and Felix were stuggling. Maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe it was the enviousness. At this point, I couldn’t really tell.

“Minho-hyung, I think Jinnie would agree with me, if I said that we’re dead tired. Can we wrap it up here? We just need some rest…” the aussie tiredly suggested “I definitely agree. Feels like I’m gonna drop dead from exhaustion any second now!”

Our pleads fell deaf to the older’s ears, as he teasingly mocked us and proceeded to repeat the move we were stuck on. Me and Lix groaned in unison “Yah! Let us have at least one breheheak~” I whined, poking his exposed side. The last thing I expected was for him to flinch violently. What was up with this guy?

“Damn, are you ok? Did he hurt you?” the caring sunshine boy immediately ran to the older, expressing concern “N-Noho. I’m not hurt… You’re right. Maybe we should finish up. Practice is dismissed!” the way Lee Know completely changed his mind in a matter of seconds left me suspicious. Felix, on the other hand, didn’t even bat an eye. He just sighed happily and ran out faster than the flash.

“Aren’t you leaving?” Minho asked. I turned my gaze towards him, only to see a very red face “Are you… blushing? Why?” I questioned, exploring his expression. What could’ve embarassed him that much?

Then, I remebered how he had reacted to that simple poke. I smirked. Minho’s current position put me in an immense mood to absolutely wreck the poor boy. Plus, I could see that he wanted to be tickled too. He’s not very good at hiding his lee moods…

“More effort is gonna be needed to hide yourself from me. How do expect to avoid being caught when every single time you’re in that mood? You can’t even stop yourself from reddening up at every single poke and tease!” I tormented, slowly approaching my future victim.

Lee Know only blushed an even deeper shade of red, not even trying to stop me from getting closer to him “Seriously? You’re that desperate for tickles? At this point, you should just jump straight into my arms instead of standing there like a kid that has just pissed in his bed.”

“Yah! My bed is completely dry. And I am NOT desperate!” Minho denied, but I could read him like a book.

Well, if he wanted to put up a fight, I was totally down. Without wasting any more time, I tackled him to the floor. Or atleast tried to. I didn’t expect the bunny to stand his ground.

In no time, both of us were wrestling on the floor, fighting for dominance “Come on, Minnie~ No need to banter. If we just skip this part and you let me win, you’ll just get what you want even quicker!” I teasingly suggested. I had the upper hand, but the mischevious man continued fighting.

“I-I’ll never give up. You’ll have to win to t-tickle me!” he grunted, trying his best to push me off his hips. He seemed much more focused on not satisfying his lee mood instead of trying to please it “Did you change your mind? I can just get off and let you go.” I knew that this would mess with him. It always did with me.

I stood up, walking away with a slick smile plastered on my face. I was just waiting for him to plead for me to come back.

“Wait! I n-never said that…” he yelled, fidgeting with his fingers, keeping his head down “What? Do you actually want me to wreck you? Even if I didn’t win againts you in this intense duel that we had?” I bombarded the poor boy with questions, taking quick, sudden steps while getting closer.

He flinched, blinking quickly every time I got closer. Finally, our gazes met as I crouched down to his level “Be a good boy now, Minho-hyung. Lay down nicely with your arms up for me. I just can’t seem to be bothered enough to pin them down.”

I could see how he choked on his own breath after hearing my stament. However, he obeyed. His current position made me completely forget about him being a mean, teasy ler. I mean, it was impossible not to think of him as an adorable little lee when his arms were compliantly positioned above his head and his whole body was burning with that red blush.

“You must be quiet aswell. It’s late, the tickle monster is sleeping. And you don’t wanna wake him, do you?” I asked, running my finger down his side. Lee Know squirmed inpatiently, closing his eyes and deeply breathing. It was cute seeing him try to hold his giggles in. And it was my mission to make him fail.

I decided to go easy on him, for now. My fingers walked around his sensitive torso slowly and tenderly. Puffs of air left his mouth as he twitched at every single touch “Feeling ticklish already? I’m barely even touching you!” I whispered, not wanting the tickle monster to wake up either.

He arched his back and bit his lip as I placed quick and precise little pokes all over his torso “Oh no! Some evil ants escaped the zoo. Can you help me find them? I just can’t seem to see them anywhere…” I pretended to be in deep thought, as the “ants” (which were my fingers) walked all across his torso. From his stomach, to his sides, his ribs, chest, collarbones and neck.

I could sense that he would not be capable of keeping those sweet snickers in. Minho’s face was getting concernedly red. I could even see a vein popping out his forehead.

“Stay strong! I heard that the tickle monster is very grumpy today. If he gets his hands on you, he won’t show any mercy…” I threatened, digging deeper into his hypersensitive flesh, trying to make him fail.

“P-please” he barely managed to squeak out, struggling to keep his arms up. I knew that once he oppened his mouth, he wouldn’t last much longer before giving up and letting all that bottled up laughter right out.

“IHIHIHI CAHAHAHAN’T ANYMOHOHORE!” Minho cackled, finally breaking. I grinned, preparing myself for the future incoherent screams my ears were about to expierience.

The last thing I expected was for Minho to wriggle out of my grip and desperately run “You’ll only make things worse by avoiding me~ Come here and we can finish this up in no time!” I said, trying to bargain with the ticklish man. He, however, seemed to have other plans, as I watched him cautiously take steps back without turning his back on me.

No matter how much he tried, he knew that he would end up right below me again in no time “I-I’m not cohohoming anywhere near you…” Lee Know nervously giggled. Crazy how all his smugness and confidence instantly melts away as soon as tickles are involved…

No matter how amusing this might sound, I was getting bored. So, to get even more adrenaline pumping thru the cat lover’s veins, I decided to do the classic “dramatic chase”. Never fails to fluster and tire out the victim.

“Fine. If you won’t come to me, I’ll come to you!” without further thought, I launched myself towards my beet-red lee. He immediately jumped to his feet and scurried away, with me hot on his tail “There’s nowhere to run~ This practice room is far too cramped and emty for you to succesfully escape my vengeful fingers~!” I warned, wiggling said fingers towards his direction. The way Lee Know reddened up in only a matter of seconds made me wanna give him what he wanted so badly right this very moment. Too bad he was the most stubborn lee I’ve ever met…

“P-Plehehease you really don’t hahave to do this…” he giggled in anticipation, never letting his guard down. Our gazes were stuck to one another, never leaving for even a second.

I decided to shoot my shot now. I mean, I had chased the poor boy right into a corner. The chances of him escaping were slim “Come here!” I yelled, almost catching the anxious man into my arms “Ah, I underestimated your speed far too much… You wanna be bratty? Fine. Two can play that game.” I stated, standing my ground.

Minho tikted his head in confusion. Only after a minute or two he realized that I wasn’t going to attack him. Again.

“Come on, Hyunjin, don’t tease like that~” the older whined. I just turned my head away from him (sassily) “Alright, you win. I-I’ll be g-good boy…” he stuttered, laying down once again and pulling his arms up. I smiled at the sight, fighting back the urge to run up to him and tease him and tickle him and just tell him how CUTE he is- Sorry, I’m ranting, aren’t I?

Unfortunetly, the little voice in my head convinced me to do exactly that “I can’t stand seeing you being so cute and not giving you what you want! Worry not, Lee Know! You’ve awoken the tickle monster and he is hungry for revenge…” I inmeadetely jumped to the teasing, skipping jollily towards my favourite hyung.

“J-Just get this done with and we can go home…” Minho whimpered, closing his eyes and reddening up for the 100th time in embarassment.

“Come on, you’re usually so mean and snarky! I don’t even know any of your best spots. Which one is your favourite? Which is the worst? Which is the most realaxing? The most tort-” “Yah! Enough teasing~ Just do iiit~” Lee Know complained covering his boiling face with his hands “Alright. I’ll discover each one of those spots anyway~” I tormented one last time before lowering my tickly fingers down onto his sensitive body.

The bunnie’s breath hitched, as he squirmed lightly in anticipation. I just smirked, knowing this was killing him. Just to tease him one last time, I tactically placed my hands on his ribs, which was easy, considering both his arms were safely folded above his head. His eyes shut so tightly, that I thought they’d get stuck like that forever.

When I didn’t do anything for yet another minute, one of his mince pies cheekily peeked open “You’re still teasing!” He yelled, violently shaking his body side to side “I know, I know. I’ll stop. Get ready~” I warned, ever so lightly digging my fingers into his sensitive ribs.

Minho bit his lip, still not turning his gaze away from me “You can laugh now, the tickle monster is up anyway” I reminded the ticklish man, dragging my long finger along the bones.

“Stohohohop, Ihihi’m nohot a kihihihd!” the cat mom tried to deny his love for the mentioned monster. Impossible “Just admit that you love him~ Now he’s being nice and asking how you want your tickles.” I said, lifting my hands off him “Nohoho.”

“Nohoho what? You reject his generous offer? How selfish of you!” I exclaimed in supposed anger, pushing my fingers deep into the crevices between his ribs “NOHOHOHOHO PLEHEHEHEHASE I-I’LL TEHEHEHEHEHL THEHEHE T-TICK- MONSTER HOHOHOHOHOW I WAHAHAHAN’T THEHEHEHEM!” “Pft, how will you do that if you cannot even say his name!”

The poor boy just cackled in response, struggling to keep his arms away from his vulnerable body “Just say: “tickle monster, I want to be tickled on blank until I cry and plead and beg. Pretty please!” I almost cringed at my own statement “IHIHIHI’M NOHOHOHOHOHOT SAHAHAHAHAYING THAHAHAHAHAT!”

“No? Then I think Han would love to join us. Especially when you told him every. single. one. of your spots last night after some bottles of soju~” I could tell how his heart dropped. He definetly didn’t remeber that…

“O-Ok… Hyunjin, I want to-”

“Hyunjin? I think you misunderstand me. I won’t tickle you. The tickle monster will!”

Lee Know groaned in embarassment and annoyance “Alright, t-tickle monster… I want to be… t-tickled on my… thighs… until I cry and plead and beg. Please.” He squeeked out, covering his face by the end.

“A please is not enough. And I didn’t hear where you wanna be tickled so so badly~” i pushed way past his flustered limits.

“I WANNA BE TICKLEDON MYTHIGHS PRETTYPRETTYPLEASE!!” Minho rapped out quicker than Changbin “Well, since you asked so nicely…”

Without any time to waste, I wrapped my fingers around said spot. I looked down to the inpatient lee, whose eyes where stuck on my hands. His gape jumped from my face to my tortorous fingers. I smiled at his anxiousness, mildly squeezing his leg. Minho cutely squeeled stopping himself from grabbing my wrists.

I didn’t want to torture him for much longer, eventually digging my fingers deep into the sensitive flesh. He just closed his eyes and bit his lip, turning his burning red face away from me. I smiled at the older, only vibrating my fingers with much more force and speed. He huffed, squirming around slightly. It was actually adorable watching him try to not stop me, which was probably much more dificuly then stopping me.

“You’re cute, hyung. Not even trying to hide it or anything~” I teased, even though I think he couldn’t really hear me, considering he was most likely much more focused on fighting the urge to bite me and run away as soon as possible.

“I-Ihihihi’m nohohohot agh-cuhuhte!” he whined, rolling from side to side “I don’t believe you. Do you see yourself? You’re giggling like a child!” I pointed out, shaking my hands into his thigh “Plehehehheheahahase!”

I didn’t answer this time. It was pointless. He would just giggle the same things I gear every time! To be honest, I think the sound of his own giggles being the only one echoing across the room makes it even more flustering.

I decided to search around for a new giggle spot, growing tired of only torturing the very top of his legs “HYHUHUHUHUHUHN PLEHEHEHEHEASE NOHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHERE!” I didn’t even know his thigh could get any more ticklish until I dug into the inner part. Safe to say, Lee Know went ballistic.

“Come on, hyung, it can’t be that bad, can it?” I questioned, quickening my pace “IHIHIHIHIHT’S BAHAHAHAHAD! REEHEHEHEHEHALY BAHAHAHAHAD!” I could’ve sworn my ears literally melted off because of Minho’s powerful laughter.

I just fondly smiled down at my poor victim. Our gazes met once again “Why are you looking at me, Minnie? Do you have a sugestion?” I teasingly asked, leaning closer to the bunnie’s face “D-Do you think we can play some sort of… game?”

I blushed at the idea. But why was I blushing anyway? Maybe because I was jealous of how the older could just ask for something like that without dying on the spot?

“What game? The one where you hold your laugh in, or the one where I count your ribs, or the one where I tickle you everywhere until you per your pan-”

“Yah! No one is peeing their pants today. Especially not me. How about the one where… You know… The game that you had come up with…” Lee Know embarrassingly crossed his arms on his chest, looking anywhere but me.

The game in question was the best invention of mine. It was called “doll”. The tickler could move the limbs and body of their victim to whatever position they desired, and the ticklee had to try and stay in that position while being tickled. Sounds simple, right?

“Ohh…! You wanna play “doll”? You really liked it that much when we tested it out last time?~” I tormented, slowly getting up from my current position to my feet, preparing myself to move Minho around.

“You’re crazy… Let’s just play.” He coldly stated, laying down on his back with his arms and legs neatly placed right next to his body.

I slowly approached my beutiful and ticklish doll, starting by flipping him onto his stomach.

Then, I slowly extended a singualr arm out. This was all I needed to put my hyung in the most vulnerable position.

“Hmmm, I wonder if you’re more ticklish on your right or left armpit?” I asked Minho. Unfortunately, he didn’t answer, playing his role as a toy a little too well “Well, I guess we’ll find out”.

To be honest I knew his left was worse, which was why I decided to start with the right side. I slowly dragged my fingers along the delicate skin, allowing myself to take my darn time.

He just barely bucked his hips, not making any noise yet “Wow, maybe this doll isn’t ticklish…” I sighed in dissapointment, softly digging my fingers deeper into the sensitive pit. This pulled a bigger reaction out of him.

“Hmmhehmmehe…” He giggled, his current position muffling the sweet sound quite a bit “What was that? Did my doll just make a noise? Is it alive?” I gasped, quite literally vibrating my speedy fingers into the armpit.

His body swung side to side, as he tried to cover his mouth with his free hand “None of that! Give me your other hand, dolly!” I yelled, grabbing his other wrist and pinning it above his head.

“Let’s see if you really are alive…” I snickered, placing my hands on the exposed spot. Even though I couldn’t see Minho’s face, I knew his big doe eyes were seducing me from a distance.

Without any time to waste, I dug in deep, masaging circles into the tender flesh. He was doing good… for the first milisecond. Once the ticklishness finally attacked his nevers, he was thrashing around like a maniac “I can’t believe it! My doll really is alive! Mom!” I announced in a childish, girly voice.

Lee Know didn’t answer, his laughter only getting deeper as his arms were threatening to slam right back onto his sides “AAHAHAHAGAGAHGA JIHIHIHIHIHIHINIEHEHEHEHEHE!” “Oh my goodness, she even knows my name!” I screeched, lowering my lips onto the cat lover’s neck.

“NOHOHOHOHOHO DOHOHOHOHON’T! NOHOHOHOHOHOT MYHYGH NECK!” his pleads fell deaf to my ears, my hunger for his desperate laughter only growing.

Before he had any time to realise it, a big, ticklish raspberry was being blown onto the sensitive body part “YOUHUHUHUHU’RE CRAHAHAHAZY! STOHOHOHOHOHOP!”

At this point, I considered listening to Minnie. His arms had, most likely, involuntarily crashed back onto his sides as his whole body agressively shook. The part that had me concerned the most was the puddle of tears that had collected below his face.

“Alright… That’s enough for you.” I stated, standing back up. Lee Know flipped onto his back, panting heavily with a wide smile and tear stains on his face.

“T-Thahank you, Hyunjin.” he squeeked out, covering his face the very next second.

“Let’s go, it’s late. The rest are probably concerned.” I suggested “You go, I’ll get home in a bit.” he uttered, pushing himself off from the ground

“Oh come on, don’t tell me that you’re gonna pull out your journal and start documenting the past our of your life like a middleschooler!~” I cackled, throwing my head back in the process.

“No. Definetly not that. Now get out and leave me alone!” Minho commanded, physically pushing me out the door.

I wonder what he did while I was gone…

•• ━━━━━━━ •• ❖ •• ━━━━━━━ ••

Wow, this one tooks a while to finish. I just didn’t have any motivation to finish all my drafts. So sorry to the people that requested, probably won’t be done for a another while lol😭. Have a nice day/night everyone! Hope you enjoyed the fic❤️🤗

#tickle #stray kids #sfw tickle community #tickle community #lee know #hwang hyunjin #kpop tickle #skz tickle #lee!know #ler!hyunjin

[wordbunch]

perfectly proper (RoP Elrond x Reader)

a/n: finally writing again!!! this was requested and I hope I did it justice 😊 let me know how you liked it ❤️

summary: Elrond is interested in Celebrimbor’s daughter...only that he doesn’t know she’s his daughter, until it accidentally gets revealed.

Lindon was bustling as every and any available elf was doing all in their power to prepare for the upcoming feast in celebration of the first day of spring. It seemed livelier than ever after a dull, gray winter. Elrond, the High King’s herald, was overseeing some last preparations concerning the dinner table, wanting to make sure everything was as close to perfection as possible. Carefully, his eyes pored over stunning emerald name tags on which names of important guests were carved in intricate golden letters. The Elf’s attention was immediately drawn to a certain name, of a person especially dear to him. [Y/N].

A small frown found its way onto Elrond’s handsome face when he realized [Y/N] was supposed to be seated a good few places away from him. He quickly looked around to see if anyone was nearby and paying attention to him, before his eyes darted back to [Y/N]’s name plate. He couldn’t mess around with the King’s seating arrangements, right…? Or could he? He fidgeted with the hem of his deep blue cape as he considered what he could do. Celebrimbor was supposed to be sitting on [Y/N]’s right side, and an elf-maiden, a friend of [Y/N]’s, would be on her left. Elrond’s mind was racing as he thought of his options, his sole focus being finding a way to spend more time in the presence of the gorgeous, captivating woman, who seemed to be taking up more and more space in his heart.

As soon as the majestic dining hall became a little bit emptier, everyone having gone to their chambers to get themselves presentable on time, Elrond finally made up his mind and quickly repositioned some of the dark green name plates. With this new arrangement, [Y/N] and Elrond were sitting next to each other, but he was momentarily too anxious to thoroughly think about where he moved the other honorable guests. The herald tried to smooth out some wrinkles in his clothes, but opted for going for a change of clothes, since a few more minutes were left before the start of the dinner. 

His timing turned out to be almost perfect, since he walked right into [Y/N] on his way back from his chambers, and he gallantly offered his arm out to her, which she gladly accepted.

“My lady,” he bowed slightly, heat rushing into his cheeks, “allow me to escort you to dinner.”

“Gladly,” the girl smiled at him and very subtly squeezed his arm, hoping that he wouldn't notice. “The shade of your robes brings out your eye color beautifully, my Lord,” [Y/N] complimented, feeling surprisingly bold even without any liquid courage.

“You are too kind,” Elrond mused, meeting her eyes for a brief moment; his heart almost skipped a beat. “However, I fear that your beauty is beyond any words that I can utter. None of them would do justice to your radiance.”

“Is it not too early for you to be making me blush this much?” [Y/N] raised an eyebrow at Elrond, but secretly enjoyed his flattery. She was hoping that he couldn’t hear her rapidly quickening heartbeat. 

“It is never too early to appreciate the brightest star in this whole realm, Lady [Y/N]. In my humble opinion, that could be no one else but you,” Elrond confessed earnestly, feeling mild disappointment at the fact that they’d almost reached the dining hall already - he wanted [Y/N] all to himself. 

“Have you had much to drink already?” [Y/N] joked with a vibrant laugh. “The feast hasn’t even started.”

“I am merely relishing in just existing by your side after a busy day,” Elrond shrugged nonchalantly as he led the two of them towards the large, richly decorated table. It was already swarming with people. “You bring out a different side of me.”

“Well then, I am very happy to hear that,” [Y/N] tilted her head slightly, looking up at him with a glimmer in her eyes. Her eyebrows raised in pleasant surprise when she realized she was seated next to the herald at the dining table, but she was overjoyed. It was only a bit strange to her that her father seemed to be sitting a few seats further away, but she shrugged it off. Who knows what the king had in mind when planning the seating, the girl thought. Elrond pulled out her chair and helped her get settled in before he sat himself, and immediately offered her a drink. [Y/N] gladly accepted, hoping she’d be able to let loose a bit over the course of the evening, especially since she’d been sitting next to Elrond and some other younger elves. 

“Do you think the High King will be late to his own feast once again?” she nudged Elrond, speaking in a low, mischievous voice. He tried not to laugh too loudly at her comment, so he just took a sip from his crystal glass.

“Remember, he is never late, everyone else is just early,” the herald smirked. 

“My father isn’t here yet either,” [Y/N] muttered as she surveyed the room suspiciously. “Now that is most unusual.”

“Your father?” Elrond inquired, almost falling off of his chair when he heard the well-known voice of Celebrimbor speak up loudly.

“Is there a reason why my daughter is seated so far away from me?”

Elrond froze, his eyes going wide. [Y/N] was Celebrimbor’s daughter? How hadn’t he put the pieces together earlier? While Elrond was sitting in disbelief, [Y/N] got up to go greet her father.

“I will be sitting over there, next to Elrond,” she gestured towards the elf who was still sitting dumbstruck. Celebrimbor raised an eyebrow.

“I see,” he exhaled. “Let me go over there and talk to him for a moment, then.”

“I really think that is not nece-” [Y/N] began, but her father just raised a hand and walked in the direction of the herald. Elrond was only hoping he didn’t look like a deer in headlights, as his thoughts went to how he was rearranging the name tags earlier. Maybe he should have thought it through a little bit. Maybe. As soon as Celebrimbor appeared next to Elrond, the herald felt very, very small, but he looked up regardless.

“If you try anything improper with my daughter-” he began, and [Y/N] appeared next to the two within a second”

“Ada, leave him be. For the love of Valar, that is just Elrond,” she gestured towards him and he gave an awkward little smile, trying to look as innocent as possible. “We have known each other forever. He is anything but improper.” 

“My Lord,” Elrond started, his voice almost cracking, “your daughter is very special to me, and I would never harm her in any way.” At this point, the eyes and ears of everybody in the room were fixated solely on the three. Both for his own comfort, and in order to reassure [Y/N], he gently squeezed her hand. 

“I told you,” the girl smiled at the older elf whose eyes were going back and forth between his daughter and Elrond. “He is perfectly decent.” Before any of them had a chance to add anything else, the stern voice of the High King Gil-Galad cut through the room.

“Who has been tampering with the seating arrangement?!”

-

❤️ ❤️ everything taglist ❤️ ❤️

 @starlady66​ @lazyoswald​ @lotrnonsense​ @entishramblings

#elrond x reader #rings of power imagine #elrond imagine #elrond fanfiction #trop #trop fanfic #the rings of power #rop imagine #trop imagine #the rings of power imagine #elrond #rings of power #rop fanfiction #from my pocketses

[trtlebuns]

Undercover

Synopsis: Ghost tells you that he’s going out for the night, what happens if you follow along just for fun and your cover gets blown

Inspired by this video: 😴

Swf, I think?

Tags: afab, subpar writing

Simon (Ghost) Riley

“Alright darling, I shouldn’t be out too late” Simon says (hehe) as he makes his way towards the door as you follow behind him.

“ Oh please, go out and enjoy yourself. I’m sure Johnny misses you” you say with a giggle as Simon rolls his eyes at the thought of the Scottish man

With a kiss goodbye and a share of “i love you” you watch him get into his car and drive off.

Now the makeup commences

You rush towards your room and immediately start scanning through Simons closet

“All black, this man needs a tad bit of color me thinks” you say aloud as you pick up a simple black sweater and one of his colognes

You zoom towards your bathroom to immediately draw some bushy brows and a beard and adding any other features that bring out any “manly” features

As you take a look in the mirror, you damn near convinced yourself that you yourself is a male

You giggle to yourself menacingly, as you snap a selfie for this remembrance

for those who need a visual, you have on a cap, joggers, his sweater, and some classic chuck Taylor’s. Cool? Alright

You spray some of his cologne and make your way to the door

“Enjoy yourself my ass. NOT ON MY WATCH!” You mumble to yourself as you exit the door and make your way to your car for a field of fun

Time skip

“Hey Simon, I recent got kidnapped by a bunch of mimes…they did UNSPEAKABLE things to me” Johnny drunkenly laughed at his 100th dad joke

Poor simon

It’s been about 30 minutes since I’ve entered the bar, it was a good amount of people. Enough for you to not be spotted, and hide behind people

You picked up some camouflaging tips from Simon

You stand in the corner of the bar under a good amount of shade, as you sip on your drink that you ordered to not seem like a creep

You rub your temple as you see Johnny get ready to tell another joke, but before you could hear the joke you were sidetracked

A lady came up to you, swaying her lips and plastering a beautiful smile.

Sweat immediately falls down your ass

She approaches you and you can smell the alcohol seeping through her pores

“Hey handsome, you here alone” She whispers seductively

“Yes” you responded quickly, trying to think of ways to escape this lady and get back to the “mission”

“Well, I can keep you company” she smirks as she does the two finger walk up your arm

“Listen lady” You gently grasped her arm before they travel anywhere else “I am a woman and I am not interested so please be on your way” You said sternly looking at her, not breaking eye contact so she gets the memo

She snatches her arm out of your hand and huffs walking away with an attitude “not like you was hot stuff anyways”

You roll your eyes and try to set your eyes back onto Simons table to find hes not there

“Aw fuck” You whispered to yourself

“Aw fuck indeed” You hear a familiar voice say behind you

You quickly turn around and roll your eyes

“How did you even find me?” You said irritatedly

“I knew the plan before I even left the house, you need to work on your whispering when you talk on the phone with your friends” Simon chuckles

“Guess I’ve been caught” You raise your hands in surrender as you smack your lips

“But don’t i make a hot guy??” You questioned Simon as he walked the both of you over to the table with a very happy drunk Johnny

“Ohmygosh that was you y/n?? No wonder ghost kept ignoring me and watching you” Johnny hiccups and waves excitedly

You laugh and wave back excitedly to match energies

You share a few drinks between ghost and Johnny, it was honestly a night to remember

In the midst of you drawing a penis on a very unconscious johnny you look up and see Simon staring at you

Simon looks at you

“The sexiest” Simon whispers to himself

#simon ghost riley #mw2 141 #simon riley #simon riley x reader #john mactavish #soap x reader #call of duty #cod fluff #cod #fluff #black reader #x yn #undercover #simon riley imagine #trtlebuns #comedy

[pangtasias-atelier]

heyyy could you write a keaton x xander fic where xander has been fattening keaton up and keaton is in massive denial about his weight until he's immobile and forced to realize?

I kinda forgot how much y'all love fates cause like outside of this community so many bitches rag on it. But I'm right here with y'all on seeing the men get fat as fuck abjsnasn

I hope you enjoy this cause I feel like I'm bad with Xander since I don't like him much but did have fun going back and seeing some his supports to like try and do him some justice

Warning: This is a fetish story!

"Looord Xanderrr," Peri skipping down the hallway, her hair as bright as her current attitude, bounces along with her movement. She hums to herself with both her eyes closed after having announced herself. 

Her fellow coworker walks behind her. Walking normally unlike Peri, Laslow's steady pace has him keeping up with her. For once, he keeps a rather serious demeanor to him with no maidens around for him to hit on. Though he does look forward to heading off into town after his last report for the day. Standing in front of the door to Xander's study, he only knocks once before the door opens. "Your majesty, your-"

"Stuff it, Laslow. He told me," Peri smiles to herself, the lethal knight radiating nothing but positivity. "Your pet asked me to come get you. Said that he's absolutely starving,"

"Keaton is my husband, Peri. Not a pet," He walks out of his study with a frown marring his pristine, chiseled face. 

"Aww, but you sure do stuff him like one though,"

Laslow's eyes widen from Peri's blunt words, even the swordsman unable to bring himself past simple jokes or teasing. "I'll make sure to speak with her over-" Laslow holds back a grumble as he gets interrupted again. 

"No need. I must admit, Keaton has been eating quite a lot. Though I am to blame for indulging my husband," Xander smiles to himself. He adjusts his clothes before going to see his lovely husband.

"Well, as long as he's happy I guess," Laslow stands back, ready to be dismissed at any moment.

Peri seems to have no tact whatsoever unlike her coworker. "He's also pretty fat too,"

Laslow shuts his eyes, ready for a lecture.

"Indeed. It suits him well, doesn't it?" Xander mentally gushes over his husband, envisioning the wolfskin's pudgy little love handles that puff out from his too tight vest and his soft, squishy thighs that stretch his pants.

"Of course! Of course, your majesty," Laslow blurts out. Eyeing Peri, he hopes she'll get his hint.

She doesn't. "Yep. He looks so soft and squishy now! You've done a number on his waist," 

"Yes, he is very soft," Xander catches his own thoughts and coughs into his fist. "But regardless, you two are dismissed for the day,"

Laslow already drags Peri away by her hand. "Thank you, your majesty! Take care,"

Xander heads back to his husband from now being left alone. His study is rather close to the two's shared room, so it only takes him a few moments to reach his husband. His entire face turns a soft shade of red upon the sight of Keaton, the same lovely shade that resembles Keaton’s gut when stuffed with an extra serving of food past his usual intake. 

Keaton currently lays down on the expansive couch, all plump three hundred pounds of him Resting on his back, his overly stuffed belly juts out above him. Keaton’s vest is completely useless now from his extra weight. All of the buttons on the black vest are gone, every single last one popped several meals. His button up fares better. Only marginally so, the buttons able to at least hold on for dear life as the fabric tries its hardest to wrap around the extra adipose. The white fabric is bunched up around his soft bundles of flab that make up his rolls. The fabric shows off more than just his chest now. Bits of Keaton’s flabby gut poke out in between the holes where his buttons barely manage to stay together. And the underside of his gut is completely exposed; neither his shirt nor his vest manage to cover up Keaton in all his entirety with so much extra width to cover. Keaton’s chest presses against the soft fabric of his shirt and vest. Two soft well cared for breasts adorn his plush body, the two breasts a large departure from Keaton’s once defined pecs. The inner bits of adipose from his chest are still exposed with the upper buttons left completely undone. The back and sides of Keaton’s clothes also struggle to withhold all his flab. The materials billow out from his soft, squishy love handles and the side of his chest. With more to cover now from the extra weight, Keaton’s widened back that’s adorned with small overlapping bits of pudge help stretch the clothes to their limit even further. 

Keaton’s pants are unbuttoned, the far too tight pants undone midway through his gorging. His thighs show off the fine craftsmanship behind the pants. Zero holes or tears throughout the entire fabric, the slightly stretchable material hugs his thick frame like a second skin. Keaton’s large thighs have some room between them with how he spreads his legs on the couch. With keaton’s position, his doughy fat pad presses against the taut pants. The two perky, smackable cheeks making up his ass similarly stretches his clothes.All of the belts and straps that used to wrap around his thighs are gone now with Xander having them removed some time ago after Keaton’s numerous complaints about the items magically shrinking rather than any other much more likely reason for the tight fit, like his extra weight.

Despite being the very reason for his extra weight—along with some extra help from Xander—Keaton finds every fault or excuse for his increasing issues from his weight besides himself or his husband. A miscast spell, a poorly washed outfit that shrunk, Nohrian furniture not as big or sturdy compared to his village, or even a hex casted on him—the latter thought coming to Keaton during his most lucid moments of only being a smidge off the actual reason—are all far more convincing and compelling reasons to explain his issues than any actual overindulgence on his part. 

And Xander finds the blissful ignorance far too adorable. Almost as loving and charming as his husband’s bloated, flabby body. “You called for me, love?” Xander kneels down on the floor. In the comfort and sanctity of their own room, he presses his face into Keaton’s gut; the warm belly audibly churns and rumbles as it digests the feast he just ate. 

“I’m hungry,,,” Keaton whines like nothing could matter more than satiating his own seemingly insatiable hunger. His eyes are closed, both of them shut tight in something reminiscent of pain as Xander applies only the slightest bit of pressure. 

“It pleases me to see how much you adore the cuisine here. Allow me to hand you the rest of your meal,” Removing himself from Keaton’s bloated gut, Xander reaches for the last plate of food. A small bowl of alfredo, the carb laden dish already has Keaton’s gut gurgling as if in a vain hope to deter its owner from eating more. But Xander stops the nearly improbable chance from happening anyways by feeding the already stuffed Keaton. 

And Keaton dutifully eats. He doesn’t bother to hide his own satisfaction as Xander feeds him another forkful and then another. His tail even attempts to wag despite being pinned under his own weight. “So good,” Keaton wheezes out as Xander finally feeds him the last remaining forkful. Every single meal so tantalizingly delicious, he couldn’t help himself but crave more of it, even with an already stuffed gut.

“I’ll let the chefs know how much you enjoyed the meal,” Xander plants a kiss on Keaton’s exposed gut, the lowest button gone halfway through the pasta. “And I’ll have them make more so it’s ready after your nap,”

“Yeah, lots of it too,” Keaton lets out a yawn that wracks his entire body with fatigue. “Love you,” He allows his body to take the desperate post binge nap it needs, Keaton snoring away not even minutes afterwards.

Xander delivers on his promise and Keaton’s request. More than enough food to go around, Keaton certainly never has to worry about ever going hungry with his husband to take care of him. And regardless of how much Keaton needs to eat just to reach base level satisfaction or how his upsized clothes rip and tear or the way furniture begins to shake and creak the fatter he gets or how out of breath he gets from the simplest of movements, Keaton never even thinks to blame his own gluttonous, hedonistic self or the loving albeit selfish desires of his husband who all too easily fattens him up. Instead, he simply allows himself to glut out to his and Xander’s heart’s content.

“Only a few more steps,” One overladen arm over his shoulder, Xander is completely calm as he helps his husband walk. 

The complete opposite of Xander, Keaton is a tired, wheezing mess that only manages to walk around with the aid of his adoring husband who secretly, only to Keaton, fattens him up. “The servants must've *groan* moved everything further,” His face drenched in sweat just from getting out of bed and waddling to the couch, Keaton would wipe off the buckets of water pouring down his face if not for the difficulty that comes from lifting up an arm that is larger than his head now. “And you’re dieting. You’re so small,” Keaton mutters right as Xander helps him get to the couch. Which he allows himself to completely fall on top of this time, his knees swaddled in copious amounts of flab wishing nothing more than to give out and rest.

And the couch gives out from underneath him, already cracked and straining legs completely broken in half from the pile of lard for a wolfskin that sits atop it.

“And the furniture is weak ughhh,” Keaton has his porcine head tilted back. His eyes shut, he slowly attempts to catch his breath. His jowls jiggle as he puffs his cheeks out with each deep breath he takes. Even Keaton’s multiple chins wobble from his heavy breathing, the sounds comparable to someone running a marathon.

Xander dabs Keaton’s ponderous figure with a towel in the meanwhile. Careful not to put too much pressure on his husband, Xander adores the sight of his titanic love. 

Most of the couch taken up by Keaton, his lard overflows the broken furniture. His ample gut that juts out in front of him sags off the cushions. Enough to drape down and slightly press and rest against the plush carpet. Keaton’s enormous gut comes close to rivaling his transformed state; the large mass of fat big enough to look even too much in his beast form. His gut currently gurgles for more food despite already having his breakfasts followed by breakfast desserts in bed. Keaton’s gut is the largest part of him, the always stuffed and crammed belly growing fatter by the day. His chest also a large recipient, the two meaty, pendulous breasts that always sway and slosh against the rest of his lard now comfortably drape down his blubbery pile of fat for a body. Keaton’s large moobs press against his jutting love handles along with his arms as well. His thighs so ponderously wide, the two pillars for legs are practically stuck together; the only thing that breaks up the glued together large thighs is Keaton’s cascading waterfall of a gut that needs as much space as it can get. Which it does. Keaton’s thighs are spread as far apart as they can, the two large, overstuffed limbs splayed out on the couch and looking even larger from pressing down on the furniture. His swollen calves and ankles look much smaller compared to the rest of his enormity. His hands are the same; the two bloated mitts for hands are slightly sunken from the tire of fat that rolls onto them from his wrists. Keaton’s large ass presses against the backrest. The two large chair crushing ass cheeks even practically envelop his poor stubby little tail, the additional limb marking him as a wolfskin completely irrelevant when compared to the rest of his enormous size.

With so much fat stacked onto his body that the wolfskin is soon starting to lose much shape along with his mobility. Something that Keaon only retains a passing resemblance of from Xander’s assistance, his loving encouraging husband always by his side to help him before he could even ask for it.

“Are you comfortable now?” Xander asks as he pulls away the towel from his now dry husband and pinches his porcine cheeks. 

Keaton responds with only a wheeze. Attempting to move on his own, his arms are strained as he struggles to do the bare minimum of adjusting his spot with his massive gut and thighs squishing his fupa. But Keaton is unable to muster up the strength and energy to do something as simple as that. The obese wolfskin quickly gives up, a jumble of groans and wheezes coming out of his mouth.

“You’ve truly gotten so fat, dear,” Xander leans into Keaton. Pressing his face to him, he kisses him. “You’ve positively let yourself go,”

Keaton whimpers under Xander’s gaze. His tail that somehow manages to wag despite being buried under his own lard tells another story. “N-no I haven’t. It’s just… There’s-”

“There’s what, Keaton? You’ve only been able to move this past week because I helped you. Surely you can recognize that. Though with how wilfully ignorant you’ve been,,,” Xander trails off pressing a finger against Keaton’s enormous breast and sinks into it.

“Well, you’ve just been fattening me up! I-I didn’t want to say no to you,” Keaton looks away. His face is completely red, a pout accompanying his blush. Finally forced to come to terms with his size, he still does his best to blame it on anything besides himself.

“Then I’ll stop feeding you so much,”

Keaton, wide eyed, turns his head, face jiggling. 

“If you don’t like eating so much. And being so massive,” Xander reaches to both sides of Keaton. He lifts up both of his arms, the two enormous barrels for biceps squishing his face with each arm larger than his head from all the fat caked onto him. “Then I’ll help you lose weight. Unless you enjoy being so nice and fat and want to get even bigger, Keaton,”

Hearing his name called brings the wolfskin back to reality. As if able to finally correlate his name with his immobile size, he takes a glance down at his body. Nothing but lard takes up his vision, the two enormous tits that are his chest the first thing he sees followed by his ponderous gut taking up most of the rest of his vision alongside some of his massive thighs that aren’t covered by his gut. “Feed me,” Grinning to himself, Keaton takes pleasure at the sight. No more mental barrier into coming to terms with his size, the wolfskin craves nothing more than glutting out and growing fatter after already having worked so hard for it and denying it.

Xander returns the smile. He kisses his husband, one hand buried underneath Keaton’s multiple chins as he caresses him. “Gladly. I’ll make sure you never go full,”

And Xander does exactly as he promises. He feeds the obese Keaton with all the prepared food and then some, hoping to truly see him immobile and unable to move with his help by the end of the day and then even more the next, the two men content.

#my writing #fat emblem #feeder emblem #male weight gain #fat fiction #ssbhm #maleweightgain

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

White blossoms - Chapter 8

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

If you like this fic, please remember to reblog so that others may also see it!

Pairing: Melot x OFC (Tamsyn)

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Angst, some more angst. Shenanigans. Historical inaccuracies, probably.

@deandoesthingstome @ellethespaceunicorn @peaches1958 @peyton-warren @summersong69 @mayloma @livisss @geralts-yenn @sillyrabbit81

It was the agonizing pain in your shoulder and leg that awoke you from your slumber, and the scalding heat that soared within your body that prevented you from drifting off again, yet despite your efforts, your eyes did not open. You were only vaguely aware of your surroundings: you were lying on a bed, a blanket draped over the lower half of your body, and two voices in animated conversation relatively close to you. One of these voices belonged to Tristan, the other… your mother. You were home! You had made it! With that realization, there came no triumphant feeling, no sense of victory, or even a glimmer of hope, for the fever surged through your body once again, this time pulling you under and swallowing you into the darkness.

When you regained consciousness, the bickering had stopped, as had the roaring fires that had scorched your body from the inside out. The significant pain in your chest and leg seemed to also have subsided quite a bit, but in no way enough to put you out of your misery completely. The most comforting sensation, however, was the soft, beautiful singing next to you – presumably coming from the same person that pressed something warm and damp to your wounds. The pain it caused made you wince, and your brows draw together in a frown, both form agony and confusion.

Very slowly, you opened your eyes, the light in the room – as dim as it was – uncomfortable at first, to such an extent that it was impossible to see anything for a short while.

“Melot?” That voice. You had dreamt of that voice countless times since you had left, and now you finally heard it again. Tamsyn. There was nothing in that moment that you wanted more than to pick her up and hold her in your arms as you promised her you would never leave her side again – the problem was that you couldn’t seem to move no matter how hard you tried. It took every bit of strength you had in your body to smile as she called your name again, and then your eyelids fell shut again as she continued to tend to your wounds.

“Is he awake?” you heard your mother ask from a corner of the room.

“His eyes were open,” Tamsyn replied, “but only briefly. We should let him rest.” And rest you did, always in your dreams kept company by memories of your soon-to-be wife.

“I am terribly sorry we have to meet like this,” you said, startling her as you came up behind her.

“There is no need to apologize, my lord,” she said timidly, “I understand.” As soon as she moved to curtsy, you placed your finger gently beneath her chin and tilted her head up towards yours.

“Please don’t bow to me,” you spoke softly as you looked into her eyes. They were large, and a stunning shade of brown, you noticed, and they looked absolutely perfect combined with the collection of freckles on her nose and cheeks.

“As you wish, my lord,” she replied. Her words made you sigh, a sound which seemed to instil fear in the young woman.

“Call me Melot,” you asked her, smiling kindly as she repeated your name, her voice trembling slightly as she skipped your title for the first time. After that, neither of you spoke for a while. It felt silly, to stand there and say nothing, but you felt so utterly unsure of what to do, that words eluded you completely.

“Say something, please,” you said after a while, a low chuckle to your voice so as to hide your embarrassment at your inability to keep a conversation with the lady in your company.

“You have a beautiful horse,” Tamsyn blurted out, taken aback by your request. Her remark made you laugh louder, causing her cheeks to turn pink.

“She is, isn’t she,” you replied, happy to engage in whatever conversation that would stave off your nerves at this time.

“Is she yours?” Tamsyn inquired.

“She is,” you said, explaining how you had raised her over the course of the past four years. “Do you ride?”

“Oh, not if I can avoid it,” she said shyly, avoiding your eyes as she confessed: “I’m rather useless at it.”

From that moment on, each conversation you had with her was slightly easier than the one before, and after only a short while, you had found yourself reaching for her hand as you walked through the woods together. You were careful not to be seen, but it turned out to be impossible to hide from your friends – which is why you decided not to try. It took a few weeks of secret meetings before you dared to broach the subject of Tamsyn with your uncle, who at first rejected the notion of your courting a peasant girl wholeheartedly. It wasn’t until, through some fortuitous twist of fate – which, in your life, most often carried the name ‘Beryan’ – Tamsyn had been asked to sing at a feast in the castle, that the king learned of her beauty and talent, and he had granted you his blessing to court the young woman.

That morning you were taking care of some chores around the house that you had fallen behind on as you continued to help Yselle with the injured men. A week had passed since the warriors had returned, but Melot had yet to wake up. A few times he had opened his eyes, or he had moved his fingers slightly as you tended to his wounds, but he was never able to speak or move. The most you had received from him so far was a smile that had cost him more effort than it had been worth. Every day, you saw him twice. His mother still disallowed you access to his chambers for reasons beyond caring for him. It irked you, but only slightly, for as much as you longed to sit by his side all day and care for him, you knew it would be improper for you to do so. Thus, you decided not to push the matter, as lady Rhian was already nearly continuously occupied with the strenuous task of keeping Beryan away from her son. Beryan, on the other hand, grew more agitated about the situation with every passing day, snapping at you every time you visited her to tell her how he was doing.

“I can’t believe she refuses to let me see him for a minute!” she shouted as she paced through the corridor outside his room after having been shown the door for what must be the hundredth time.

“Young lady!” The door opened again, and lady Rhian poked her head around it to glare at Beryan. “I would strongly suggest you mind your manners! Make yourself scarce, now!”

“Can I stand in the doorway?”

“No,” lady Rhian snapped. “I have been far too patient with you, Beryan. Disappear, immediately!” You assured Beryan that Melot was going to be alright; that his wounds were healing nicely, and his temperature had returned to normal. It was strange, offering her this comfort while you yourself dreaded the moment his injuries no longer required you to check on them daily. You were certain lady Rhian would banish you from his quarters the moment your services as a healer were no longer required. As unhappy as you would be about not getting to see him anymore, you knew you would not complain: Melot’s mother was indulging you already, it would be foolish to tempt the fates.

While you worked on cleaning and dressing his wounds, you sang to him, as you always did. So far, he had opened his eyes twice, but neither of those times had he been conscious enough to reply to your or his mother’s queries. Other times, he had been conscious, but too weak or in too much pain to speak. This time, after applying the compress to his leg, you took his hand, softly caressing it as you finished your song.

“Please, continue.” Were you imagining things? Upon looking at Melot’s face, you concluded you must have been. His eyes were closed, and he looked as fast asleep as he had all these days before.

“Tamsyn, please.” This time, you witnessed the movement of his lips, though that did nothing to erase your conviction that you were slowly going mad.

“Did he just speak?” lady Rhian asked as she joined you by Melot’s bed. If she had heard it, too... The chances of you both seeing – or rather, hearing – ghosts were slim.

“I did,” he answered, his eyes still closed. You looked at lady Rhian as you felt Melot’s fingers squeeze your hand lightly. To stay put and not throw your arms around his bare shoulders to pull him close, took every bit of strength you had within you. Instead, you tightened your grip on his hand, gently dragging your thumb over the back of it, as you started singing again. Melot hummed contently, making no further efforts to speak. You watched his face while you sang, your smile widening as his eyes slowly opened.

Your singing continued as you waited for the poultices to do their work. Now that he was awake, taking care of his wounds would likely cause him more pain than it had before, when he had still been unconscious, and you dreaded the moment you would have to salve his injuries.

“God almighty, dear, I shall be glad to call you family,” lady Rhian said softly, putting a hand to the side of her son’s face, her voice breaking as she spoke to him. “My son, I was scared I had lost you for good this time.”

“Only the good die young, mother,” he said, his voice hoarse. Lady Rhian took a cup you knew to be filled with the willow bark infusion you had instructed her to make, and lifted it to his lips. As he swallowed a sip, he grimaced.

“That is absolutely foul,” he groaned.

“Shush, it’s good for you,” you berated him, swatting at the back of his hand.

“God, you women are all the same, aren’t you?” he complained – fruitlessly, of course.

You removed the compresses from his wounds after some time, and as you had expected, he winced and moaned every time you touched him.

“Melot! Stop moving right this moment!” you exclaimed after he had turned away from your touch for the so-manieth time as you tried to apply ointment to his wounds. “You are making this impossible! Stop!”

From the other side of his bed, his mother chuckled softly. “You will make a fine wife, my dear child.”

Melot continued his whining as you finished with his leg, and somehow managed to be even worse about the wound on his chest. Eventually you managed to dress his wound – if it hadn’t hurt him so much, perhaps you would have dragged it out a bit so that you may have had the chance to speak with him for a while longer. You began to gather your things, getting ready to leave, while lady Rhian walked to the door to investigate a noise she heard in the hallway. A noise that turned out to come from Gerant, Elowen and Tristan, who had come to check on Melot. Lady Rhian invited them into the room, and you hoped with all your heart that Beryan couldn’t see it.

“Sit with him while I fetch his uncle,” she said, taking your hand in hers for a moment before disappearing into the corridor.

“Kiss her, you fool!” Gerant hissed after he shut the door behind Melot’s mother and listened for her footsteps to disappear into the distance. Melot tried to get up, but you placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back onto his bed, leaning in to kiss him, instead. When your lips touched, something inside of you felt like it was finally home again; as if after many weeks of floating around in the air, your feet touched the ground at last. You heard the door open again and pulled away from Melot abruptly, thinking you were done for. Oh, if the king were to see you like this! Luckily, it wasn’t lady Rhian who had returned with king Marke, but rather Beryan, who had finally been given her chance to sneak into the room to see her friend.

“Mely!” she said – probably without thinking, because Melot scowled at her and Gerant and Tristan snickered.

“Did she just call him Mely?” Tristan asked his friend, who answered his question affirmatively.

“Dear God, you look awful,” she said as she sank to her knees next to the bed.

“You sound surprised,” Melot rasped, his voice as hoarse as before, but now even weaker, signalling that he was growing tired.

“Your mother wouldn’t let me see you,” she explained.

“And I still do not permit it!” Everybody in the room froze as they heard the voice behind them. “You, young lady, cannot be in my son’s bedchamber unattended, especially when he isn’t properly dressed!”

“Mother,” Tristan interjected before anyone else could, “might I call to your attention the fact that you invited Gerant and his wife into the room with us to act as chaperones?” His remark seemed to calm lady Rhian a bit, though she was still fuming at seeing Beryan in the room. Behind her stood king Marke, equally upset at the display before his eyes.

“Get out of here, now, lady Beryan,” he spoke slowly, “and I will tell no one of this. You will not see my nephew again until he is out of this room, understood?” “Yes, your Majesty,” she said timidly as she bowed to the king and hurried out of the room.

#melot fanfiction #melot #melot fanfic #melot x ofc #tristan + isolde #henry cavill characters #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill

[gospi]

Today we celebrate the birth of the most powerful, loving, badass father/husband/brother/parabatai this world can offer.

Happy birthday Alexander Gideon Lightwood-Bane. May you get spoiled rotten today, because that's what you deserve.

I celebrate you with a fic, because that's all I can give. Which feels small considering everything you've given me.

You can read the entire fic here too.

Almost Unreal

"Happy birthday, Alec!" his friends all cheer together, all of them clinking their glasses in a toast.

It is hard pretending that he doesn't care, when his cheeks turn a brighter shade of pink at their obvious joy of celebrating him, and Alec ducks his head and grumbles something inaudible. His only comfort is that at least they didn't bring him any presents. Alec is mighty tired of getting gift cards or some random strange piece of clothing that Izzy thought he would look good in. He is turning thirty for crying out loud, and they still don't know how to gift him properly.

Maybe the problem is that Alec knows what he wants. In fact, the last five or so years, there is only one thing Alec truly wants. One thing he wants so badly it's now the very foundation of his entire being. Or rather someone .

Magnus Bane.

Alec lets his gaze wander to the man sitting across from him. His eyes linger on his best friend for a second longer than social etiquette deems okay. But it had been months since they both were in the same room, so Alec is a lost case and doesn't even try to not look at him. God, he had missed the sneaking glances at Magnus. Now, Alec drinks in the very familiar features: the strong profile, the raven black hair styled in a faux hawk, the golden lined eyes and the deep purple, full lips. Alec can't fucking believe that Magnus secretly had planned for his return to the country, specifically for Alec's birthday. The thought makes Alec's heart skip a beat or two.

Seeing Magnus engulfed in a lively discussion with Simon, Alec walks down memory lane. Twelve years as friends, and Alec had never even once tried to tell Magnus how he felt. Not that he had known all these years, no. Though, around five years ago, after his last relationship, Alec had wanted to tell him. He'd been so close to telling Magnus that the feelings he had for him were the reason he'd turned down Adrian's proposal. That the feelings he had were the sole reason he couldn't fully commit to any other.

But Magnus had beaten him to the punch. The moment Magnus had opened the door he dragged Alec into his living room, and Alec had barely sat down before the words that shredded Alec's heart to pieces were spilling out of Magnus' mouth. The words of how he'd gotten the internship of his dreams, which meant him moving to London indefinitely.

Alec is lost in his memories, but as goosebumps spread all over his forearms, he comes back to reality. Looking up, the source of his reactions is Magnus observing him. Alec meets Magnus' intense gaze, it feels like he's pinning Alec to the wall behind him. Alec's breath gets caught in his throat; never has Magnus looked at him like this. Magnus darts out his tongue and wets his lower lip before slowly sucking it in between his teeth. Then he winks and Alec dies a little.

Magnus looks aways when someone calls for his attention and the moment is broken. However, it leaves Alec a little breathless with a racing heart. What does this mean? It's not that Magnus doesn't flirt, rather the opposite, but not silently like this.

"Hey, Alec," Izzy ribs him, "you need to stop staring, unless you want everyone to know."

That fatal night, he had turned up as a sobbing mess on Izzy's doorstep and she had taken him in with open arms, no questions asked. Ever since, she's been his biggest supporter, not even once rubbing his stupid crush in his face, and looks after him the best way possible. Like right now, keeping him from making a fool of himself.

"How am I supposed to look away when he looks like that ?" Alec hissed.

"You know, you have two options. Stop or tell," Izzy hissed back.

Tell is not an option, so Alec focuses on Maia instead. Then Lily, then Jace. The drinks keep coming during their evening and suddenly, somehow Magnus is pressed up next to Alec. The warmth that radiates from the man makes Alec lose his focus, and the now and then wafts of sandalwood that attack Alec's nostrils parch his throat. So, Alec drinks and by the time they announce that the karaoke is about to start, everyone at the table was more or less inebriated – Alec included.

His friends hoot at the news, all of them love this kind of shit. Alec loves watching them publicly humiliate themself, so he gladly follows, but never participates. For tonight's celebration, Izzy had managed to secure the VIP booth right in front of the small stage. Alec will have a perfect view of every performance, and knowing his friends, no one else would even get a chance.

First on stage is Izzy, singing Bootylicious, and Simon almost faints. When he manages to get himself together, he gets up there on the stage with Izzy. Which is no fun since they make a rather decent duo, and Alec obviously has to boo them. Luckily Jace stumbles onto the stage next, desperately trying to get in tune and Alec laughs wholeheartedly along with Magnus, still seated next to him. Maybe they do know how to gift him properly.

As Clary enters the stage, Alec hits the bathroom. He has limits, even for karaoke. When he comes back, he stops dead in his steps. His seat is taken . Two random girls have placed themselves on either side of Magnus, fluttering their eyelashes and pouting their lips. Their clothes basically non-existent; their cleavages deep enough to show more than they covered and all Alec could see was bare legs crossed over Magnus'.

Alec's inebriated brain stops working entirely. Magnus is his . He came for Alec . Not for some random girls to throw themselves at him. When Magnus puts his hand on one of the girl's thighs and leans in and whispers something in the other girl's ear that makes her giggle, Alec sees red. He turns on his heels, walking straight towards the bar, ordering shots. He needs more to drink if he's going to have to live through the scenario of Magnus taking someone else home, tonight of all nights.

Izzy slides up next to him, an eyebrow raised as her gaze falls on the four sets of shots on the counter.

"Happy fucking birthday to me," Alec mutters, jerking his head backwards at the booth.

"Alec," Izzy begins, "he's already dismissed them."

"What?" Alec snaps his head only to see that it's true. Magnus is sitting alone again.

Alec downs one shot. He gives Izzy one too. His mind slowly works backwards, to the feeling he had felt when he'd seen Magnus with the girls. Magnus and he are finally single at the same time. Magnus is here, for Alec. On his birthday. Magnus dismisses girls. There's only one thing Alec wants for his birthday. Even drunken Alec can do this math.

Alec turns to Izzy, "I know what I want for my birthday."

"Oh? You know it's a little late now to change your mind?"

"No problem. What I want is already in this very bar."

Alec sees the exact moment Izzy understands. Her eyes widen, she squeals and starts jumping up and down. "It's about goddamn time you tell him." Izzy punches him in the arm.

Alec stares at Jace and Clary on the stage, then at Magnus. If he is to get what he wants, he will have to do it on his own. And he's not going to fuck this up.

"Here, drink it. You could use all the extra courage you can get." Izzy shoves another shot towards him. "Now go and woo your man."

Alec downs the second shot and grins at Izzy before he can change his mind, he makes his way towards the stage. Everyone of his friends stares at him as he chooses his song, and enters the stage.

Magnus' eyes are locked on Alec, and he can see the slight tension in his shoulder. Maybe this is stupid idea? He will destroy their friendship.

"Go, Alec!" Alec hears Izzy's voice clearly.

There's no backing down now. Alec's mind feels surprisingly clear despite all the alcohol. He's a man on a mission — no matter what happens here tonight, at least he has tried. He swallows hard as the tune starts to fill the room. Alec can see how Magnus' eyes widen when he recognizes the song, Bryan Adams being one of their favorite artists. All Alec has to do is tweak the lyrics a little.

Taking a deep breath, grounding himself, he starts swaying his body to the rhythm of the music. When the first lines appear on the screen, they remind him of some of the reasons he loves Magnus.

<< He got a nasty reputation >>

Magnus laughing about the rumors of him and Camille being childhood sweethearts.

<< and a talent for sin >>

The way Magnus favors wearing clothes made of see-through materials, or leaving his shirts open.

<< He's the kinda trouble I'd like to be in >>

When Magnus talked himself out of a speeding ticket rushing Alec to the hospital as his appendix was about to burst.

<< I wanna be a lover, >>

Alec catches Magnus' gaze, and everything around them ceases to exist. Alec licks his lips and spins, making sure to not lose eye contact with Magnus. He feels strangely relaxed, as if it is only them in the room. Maybe it's the alcohol, or maybe it's just Alec's newly found confidence, or maybe a little bit of both,but Alec brings his hand up along his body to run it through his hair.

<< I wanna be a slave >>

Alec tips his head back, letting his hand glide down his cheek and the bared neck, and he lets it drift out, his index finger pointing at Magnus as he sings.

<< But he's the kinda man makes me wanna misbehave >>

Alec sees Magnus sucking in his breath, his eyes blow wide and it sets Alec on fire. The blood is coursing through his body, and Alec feels hot all over. Cheered on by the roaring crowd, Alec tries to roll his hips, aiming at being seductive. He knows he fails, but Magnus' jaw drops visibly and that's all the encouragement he needs to continue.

<< So give it what you want boy, let's make it understood

That if ya wanna be bad ya gotta be good >>

Alec winks at Magnus, and then Alec messes up the second verse as a smile starts spreading all over Magnus face. It illuminates his entire face and he looks gorgeous. Alec desperately tries to rein himself in, he needs to get through this, he's so close and his efforts can not be in vain. Time for the finale.

<< If you're looking for trouble better get it from me >>

Alec lets a hand slowly slide down his chest, only to stop over his crotch and he smirks. Then he falls down on his knees, leaning back and moves his upper body to the rhythm of the music.

<< So get on your knees boy and do what you should >>

Magnus gets up on his feet, staring at him. Alec can see how Izzy shoves Magnus.

<< If ya wanna be bad ya gotta be good >>

Alec gets up on his feet, slowly swaying his hips to the music, not even for a second turning away his gaze from Magnus.

<< Let's make a night, to remember

January, to December

Let's make love, to excite us

Memory, to ignite us >>

Alec doesn't get any further, because that's the moment Magnus starts moving and Alec stops breathing. The music continues to play but Alec can't hear it anymore. His heart is beating too fast in his chest, echoing in his ears. In a few strides, Magnus is up there on the stage with him.

"Alexander," Magnus says hoarsely.

"Magnus," Alec breathes, a long pregnant silence as they stare at each other. Alec searches Magnus's face for a clue, something that tells him that Magnus is on the same page. Magnus' features softens by a small smile on his lips and Alec jumps. "I love you."

That's it. It's out there. Magnus' eyes widens, but his gaze doesn't waver. Alec shifts nervously on his feet, all he wants right now is for Magnus to put him out of his misery. Alec's heart is on his sleeve, there's no coming back from this.

Thank heavens, Magnus decides to act and grabs Alec by his shirt, pulls him in, clashing their lips together. It's all Alec ever dreamt of, and more — almost unreal. Magnus' lips are soft against his own and Alec just melts into the kiss. Only when Alec drops the microphone, which causes the worst sound he's heard in a long time and the crowd to shriek, do they break apart.

"You ridiculous, crazy, sexy fool," Magnus says, a little breathless, his hands letting go of Alec's shirt and cupping his cheeks instead. Alec leans forward, resting their foreheads together, "I love you too," Magnus whispers as he gently strokes his thumbs along Alec's cheekbones, eyes full of love looking at Alec in awe.

That's when Alec dives right back in, catching Magnus' lips once more, completely ignoring the people hooting and cooing around them. He finally has Magnus in his arms and he will never let him go.

Best fucking birthday - ever.

~~The End~~

#alec lightwood #malec fic #malec #drunken love confessions #but they are still true #What Alec wants he makes sure to get

[ladycrimsonandblack]

This ficlet is for @capisback, who sent me this prompt:

The Straw Hats are running from the marines when a hotel or event exec mistakes them for the band they'd booked. The real band was already running late at that point and they're nowhere to be seen, so the exec is in a rush, and the Straw Hats decide to roll with it. Can take place before or after the 2Y time skip. If it's after, bonus points if no one recognizes Brook as Soul King and they all think he's the group's manager

.

To be fair to the hotel exec, they are wearing disguises. They are not very good disguises – the Marines recognized them as soon as they detained the crew for possession of illegal food ingredients – but it’s not like a hotel manager on some out-of-the-way island has to keep up with the newest bounties. It’s normal. Understandable, even; nobody’s ever accused the Strawhats of looking like a pirate crew at the first glance.

That still does not explain how they get mistaken for a band.

“This is Brook’s fault,” Nami says as she pulls a sequined dress over her head.

“I find that unlikely,” Robin says, adding finishing touches to her makeup. She offers Nami a smile, violently purple lips standing out dramatically against her pale face. “I do believe they think Brook is our manager.”

“We do not have a manager!”

“We are a band. We need a manager,” Robin points out reasonably. “Nevertheless, I think this should help us lose the Marines. They’d hardly think to look for us here.”

“Would have been easier to have Luffy fight them,” Nami grumbles, but she finishes getting ready all the same and strides out of the door towards boys’ changing room.

Robin smiles in understanding. “Sanji would have been devastated.” Those food ingredients really did make him happy. He would have hated seeing them trampled in the ensuing conflict.

Nami grumbles but says nothing as she carelessly barges into the boys’ room. Thankfully, everyone is clothed, except Franky. But everyone’s already seen most of Franky anyway, so nobody pays him any attention.

“Nami-swan! Robin-chan!” Sanji dances towards them. “You look amazing! Like mythical fairies coming down to bless us in our mortal world.”

“Thank you, Sanji.”

“Yeah, thanks, Sanji-kun,” Nami adds, unable to tear her eyes away from the man’s shirt. “What are you wearing?”

“Oh, the staff gave it to me.” Sanji turns around a little to show off. “It doesn’t look half-bad.”

‘It’ is a gaudily decorated silk shirt in the most eye-searingly possible shade of green. There are ruffles. There are sequins. It clashes horribly with Sanji’s hair.

“Very impressive,” Robin says, unperturbed.

Sanji almost faints out of happiness.

Nami looks away from the affront against taste and nature and counts all the other heads in the changing room. One’s missing. “Did Zoro get lost?”

“Yeah,” Franky says, now thankfully in possession of underwear. His nipple lights are on, presumably to add to the party atmosphere. They’re also giving out an electric blue light, so Franky was probably late changing because he started fiddling with his body on a whim again. “Zoro-bro wandered off after you left.”

Nami prays for the day she’ll stop being surprised at Zoro’s terrible sense of direction. “We’re literally one door down from you.”

There is a series of shrugs in the room. It’s Zoro. No other explanation needed.

“Zoro was supposed to sing with me,” Luffy says, a little mournfully.

Nami jolts. “Isn’t Brook the singer?” she asks urgently.

Brook sips from his teacup. “Ah, Nami-san, I am the manager. I’m afraid I cannot sing with you. Though leading my young friends towards success is indeed a worthy pursuit.”

Apparently, the fact that Brook is their only actual musician does not factor in these kinds of decisions.

“But… Luffy?” She does not say that everyone’s heard Luffy sing, and he’s terrible. He’s enthusiastic, for sure, but he cannot carry a tune and unless the song is Binks’ Sake, he will forget the words and just make up his own. They’ll never pass as an actual band if Luffy gets to sing.

Usopp shrugs. The sparkles in his hair glitter with the movement. “He wants to sing. Said only the captain can be a lead singer.”

“I get to be on drums!” Chopper says, excited. He’s changed into his heavy point and has somehow managed to squeeze into a pink suit that looks like it’s about the get ripped at the shoulders from the strain.

Nami hopes those drums are very sturdy. She’s not paying for any damages.

“And the Great Usopp will be on keyboard. You know, I played for a royal family in East Blue once. They said they’ve never heard such heavenly music before and rewarded me with piles of gold. They still talk about it to this day.”

“Really, Usopp?!”

Ignoring the byplay, Franky picks up a guitar. “Yew. It’s going to be super. All the crew playing in a band together…” He looks at them with a teary face, and starts to bawl. “Something got into my eyes.”

“Shishishi!” Luffy laughs, throwing his arms around Franky and Brook. One half of his clothes is tastefully ripped and the other half is sequined – the straw hat clashes with everything else he’s wearing, though someone’s taken the time to add a sparkly ribbon over the usual red one. “It going to be a big party!”

“Nami-san, are you ready for your own performance?” Brook asks, completely unperturbed by Luffy’s manhandling, though the tea in his cup is in danger of spilling. “The nice young man that invited us here said we should be on stage soon.”

“Why would he – oh, right you’re the manager. Yes, we’re fine.”

“Very well,” Brook stands up, depositing his teacup back on the table with a gentle clink. “Then I shall give you a few pointers for–“

“Oi, Brook, wait a minute. I didn’t get my costume.”

The whole crew turns towards the door, only to see Zoro come in as if nothing is wrong. There is blood on his clothes.

“What did you do?” Nami asks, very calmly.

“The hallway moved, so I ended up back on the beach,” Zoro shrugs. “Get me that costume or you’re going to make us late.”

“Don’t talk to Nami-san that way, you damn marimo! It’s you who’s making us late!”

Zoro takes one look at Sanji, and grins. “At least I’m not wearing a shirt that looks like someone’s puked on it.”

“What did you say?!”

The arguing almost manages to drown out the stomping of dozens of boots coming closer and closer.

“Zoro?” Robin says. “Did you perhaps encounter Marines on your way here?”

Distracted, Zoro looks away from where he’s been nose-to-nose with Sanji, one of his swords already half-drawn. “Huh? Oh, yeah, but I took care of them.” Everyone immediately focuses on the blood on his clothes.

“And they couldn’t have followed you?”

“Maybe? I don’t know, the streets are pretty complicated here, so I don’t know how.”

The Strawhats exchange a look as the sound of stomping boots comes ever closer. The shouts of the Marines are becoming audible.

“Gotta run!” Usopp says, snatching his clothes and weapons in one big bundle and hightailing it out of the window.

“Usopp!” Nami cries out in outrage. “Don’t you dare run faster than me!”

There is a wild scramble as the crew gathers their things and starts to flee as fast as they can.

“Ooow,” Luffy says, pouting. “I wanted to sing.”

“Not to worry, captain,” Brook hefts his guitar and starts strumming, every note accompanying the beat of their footsteps. “I shall handle it. Though I have no hands, yohohoho!”

The opening notes of Binks’ Sake ring out, and the crew starts to sing.

#one piece #ficlet #prompts #my writing #not sure about this one #but it was very fun to write #so have at it

[itcamefromthetoybox]

Targetmaster

“Transformers: Rise of the Beasts” is now out, and I’m seeing it this weekend! I need this movie. I NEEEEEEEED IT! And so, to keep myself from going completely bonkers (more than I already have, I mean), I am pleased to present the last pre-movie review: “Nerf Transformers: Rise of the Beasts 2-In-1 Optimus Prime Blaster!”

Box art taken from Amazon because I lost the pic I took of mine in the packaging

All of you know who Optimus Prime is and what Nerf is, so we’re just gonna skip the info dump. Instead, let’s talk about what exactly this toy even is. As the name of the toy obviously states, this is a Nerf gun styled after Optimus Prime. The thing that got my attention about this toy, though, is the fact that the Nerf gun also transforms into an Optimus Prime toy. It’s such a neat concept, and one I think kids will really like.

Now, before we get into the review proper, let’s address the elephant in the room. A lot of people got really pissy about the fact that this is an Optimus that turns into a gun instead of a Megatron that turns into one, since turning into a gun was the original Megatron’s whole thing. Well, there’s a few good reasons this toy isn’t Megatron, so let’s go through them.

Many American states have laws restricting or banning the sale of toy guns that could be mistaken for genuine firearms. Megatron is traditionally grey, silver, and black, and occasionally shades of green. It would be really easy to mistake a Nerf gun Megatron for a real gun, and that’s one of many ways kids get shot by panicked cops or other trigger-happy people in this country. Optimus, meanwhile, is predominantly red and blue, so a kid playing with him has a somewhat lower chance of being shot at by cops or anyone else. A lower chance, but sadly, not a zero percent chance.

Good guys sell better than bad guys. Financially, it makes more sense for Hasbro and Nerf to team up to make a toy of a hero like Optimus than it does to make a villain, especially since Optimus is the most well-known character in the entire franchise.

Megatron has not been confirmed to be in the movie. All the Megatron toys released for this movie are re-releases from previous toylines, but with the “Rise of the Beasts” logo on the packaging. Since this toy was made in a collaboration between Hasbro and Nerf, meaning the profits have to be split between the two companies makes more sense to make a toy of someone actually in the movie than it does to make one of someone not in the movie, because kids are more likely to buy the toy of the guy they just saw on the big screen.

In robot mode, Prime’s looks and articulation both suffer from the fact that he’s a working Nerf gun first and a toy robot second. From the front and top up, Prime looks good. He has the looks you expect from Optimus Prime by now. And then there’s the rest. Since his legs become the barrel of the Nerf gun, he ends up with cartoonishly long legs. Compared to the normal proportions of his top half, it’s a little jarring to suddenly see those super long legs. It’s like he’s wearing some sort of stilts and trying to hide it, and it is not going well.

...I just realized how awkward the orange barrel looks in robot mode.

The issues that come from being a Nerf gun become even clearer when we look at Prime from behind. Due to how a Nerf gun works, there wasn’t a way to make this toy so the gun’s handle could be folded down or removed without jacking up the price. So as a result, Prime has this giant blue growth sticking out of his back.

Robot Mode Optimus Prime has very limited articulation, as you would expect from a toy that’s meant to be a gun first and foremost. He has ball-jointed shoulders and elbows, and that’s really it. Since his legs are the barrel of the gun, they’re a mostly solid piece, with the only exception being the end of his long, solid leg part, which folds out of the way to not block the barrel for the gun. He also can’t hold anything in his hands, which is actually a letdown for me. I would have loved for him to be able to hold his own tiny Nerf gun.

Optimus Prime would go on to develop severe back pain.

Transforming Prime to gun mode and back is a pretty straightforward process, where the hardest part is just getting his arms positioned for gun mode, and even that’s not really a challenge. The whole transformation is quick and easy, which is partially caused by the fact that the entire body is a Nerf gun and the robot mode is the Nerf gun with limbs and a head, so transforming him is just getting those parts out of the way. My one issue is that, when putting Prime in robot mode, the barrel of the gun can sometimes make Prime’s legs not want to come together fully, which can make him fall backwards if you’re not careful, so do keep an eye on that.

I really like how the gun mode looks. It’s got a lot of visible Optimus details, such as the wheels his traditional truck mode has and the chest windows, which all make for a very stylized toy. It’s a really neat design, which at this point, I expect from Nerf after seeing some of their other Nerf guns. I’m very pleased with this look.

Turn him upside down and you can claim he’s a submarine or spaceship

Since Prime’s a Nerf gun, one thing we should definitely talk about is his fire power. After all, the point of a Nerf gun is to shoot your friends with it, and it would be kinda sad if the Nerf dart couldn’t even clear the couch. Well, I’m pleased to say that Prime has what I’d call decent range. He’s a smaller gun, so he won’t be hitting people across a field, but his power is good for his size. And remember, it’s not the size of Optimus Prime, it’s what you can do with him.

Optimus comes with two accessories, a pair of Nerf darts. Considering he’s a Nerf gun, this shouldn’t come as a shock to anyone. What I do like is that he has a place to store the Nerf darts aside from just loading one in the gun, which would impede Prime’s ability to transform. Prime has a pair of dart holders that unfold on his back/the end of the gun, which do a very good job storing the darts, I haven’t had any issue with the holders being too loose or anything, which I admit was a concern of mine. As a bonus, when the darts are stored, they do a decent job emulating Prime’s smokestacks from his truck figures, albeit in bright Nerf colors.

The film’s epic climax: Unicron chokes to death on a Nerf dart.

“Nerf Transformers: Rise of the Beasts 2-In-1 Optimus Prime Blaster“ is available at mass retail and can be found with the action figures, not the Nerf guns. He goes for about $20-$25 at retail, which is a little much, but a lot of online places are starting to carry him for about $17, which feels much more reasonable. While I’m not enamored with the legs and how he has a giant gun handle sticking out of his back, I do understand that those are sacrifices that had to be made due to the fact he’s a working Nerf gun. As is, I actually would recommend him for kids old enough and responsible enough to play with Nerf guns. I would also recommend him for adults responsible enough to play with Nerf guns. Basically, use good judgement before buying this for someone. “Transformers: Rise of the Beasts” comes out this weekend, so this is the last Transformers review for now, and next week, we’ll be looking at toys of another beloved franchise that’s getting a movie soon, so come back then! This is JS, signing off and  wishing you Happy Toy Hunting!

#transformers #nerf #optimus prime #autobot #autobots #rise of the beasts #nerf gun #nerf blaster #rotb #transformers rise of the beasts #transformers rotb #transformers toys #toys #toy #review #toy review

[hunnythebee]

Stow Away

Chapter 12: Festival of Lights

The Festival is a beloved celebration to all on Naboo. A night of lights music, and joy. A special night for all in attendance. And this night will be an unforgettable one for Jo and Din.

4.2k words - third person - female original character

Chapter 11 | Chapter 13 | Masterlist

Tags & Warnings: Din Djarin x OC, Din Djarin x OFC, Naboo, Fluff, Pure fluff, festival, fireworks, kissing, finger licking, I don't really think there are any warnings for this one tbh

Jo woke up with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. The room was dark and the bed was firm. She rolled over in the bed and breathed deeply, the scent of him filled her senses. That familiar aroma of incense and spices mixed with his musk. A smile played at the corners of her mouth as she realized that she was in his bed, and he had been here with her. But where was he now? Jo’s hand traced along the wall till it hit a switch. She pressed it and the light came on overhead, bathing the room with a soft glow, nothing like how the lights of the Crest had been like.

The room was larger than the one on the Crest as well. The bed she had been in was embedded into the wall and, unlike the prior bed, this one could actually hold two people comfortably. Jo’s eyes scanned over the rest of the room, there was a small kitchenette and an actual table mounted to the wall with two stools in the far corner. She felt her heart skip at the prospect of having those quiet, domestic moments with Din again. Jo continued to survey the room, noting the egg shaped bassinet was closed and near the bed, and there were two large cupboard doors beside the bed. Her curiosity got the better of her and she opened the doors to find a sparse closet. All that hung inside was the jacket she had been wearing when she had fallen asleep and some two other garments that were sealed inside bags. She was about to open the bags when a sound came from behind her and nearly made her jump out of her skin.

Din had come to wake her. They were going to be dropping out of hyperspace soon and wanted her to be awake to see Naboo when they did. He had expected to see her sleeping peacefully, or at the very least just barely waking up. What he hadn’t anticipated was finding her poking around inside the closet, where he had part of the surprise hiding. He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe as Jo stiffened and snapped around to face him with comically wide eyes. He chuckled as pieces of her purple and orange hair fell into her eyes.

“I wasn’t snooping!” She shouted. Din tilted his helmet skeptically. “Okay fine,” Jo admitted. “Maybe I was snooping. What is this?” She grabbed the plastic covering of one of the garments and tugged slightly.

“None of your concern. Yet.” Din responded. She was about to ask a follow up question, but he beat her to it. “You should come to the cockpit. We’re almost there.” He reached a hand out to her. She made a little pout about the fact that she wasn’t going to get an answer from him about the clothes but accepted his hand regardless. Their fingers laced together and he led her back to the cockpit. Jo sat down in her seat and he sat in his just as they dropped out of hyperspace.

Naboo was even bigger and more beautiful than she had remembered. The most beautiful shades of greens and blues with soft white swirls covering the surface. She felt as light as air as she gazed down at the surface of the planet.

Din navigated the ship down into the atmosphere, and a voice came over the comm channel. 

“Welcome to the city of Theed. We are happy to have you during our Festival of Light and hope you enjoy your stay. Please dock in hangar 2 bay 13.”

Jo felt excitement fill her chest. “Did that just say ‘Festival of Light’ or am I crazy?”

“No, you heard right,” Jo could hear the grin. He landed the ship and Jo stood up from her seat and turned him to face her. Her eyes narrowed at him but she was still smiling.

“Did you know?” She questioned.

He attempted to act innocent, “Know what?” Jo poked a finger into his breastplate.

“Listen here, don’t act innocent. Did you know about the Festival?” She was practically beaming.

“I… might have known something about a festival.” Din admitted as he stood from his chair, his body pressing against hers. Jo took a shaky breath and looked up at his visor, which was already looking down on her.

“There is no errand for Peli, is there?” Her voice was quiet now, just barely above a whisper. She searched his visor for those brown eyes she had dreamed of for so long, but to no avail.

Din’s hands found her hips and held her to him as he lowered his forehead to press against hers.

“No.” His voice was just a low rumble through his modulator. Jo linked her arms behind his neck.

“So, this was your plan?” She asked with a happy sigh.

“Yes.” He answered, “But there is more.” Jo leaned back in his arms to look at him fully. She could feel the mischievous grin he was wearing.

“More?!” She asked in surprise.

He nodded toward the room she had been asleep in, “Why don’t you go get dressed and I’ll show you.”

Jo all but ran back to the room. She flung open the wardrobe and grabbed the bags that she had found before. Inside the first one was a pool of beautiful pale blue silk. She picked up the garment and held it up. The material unfurled into a beautiful floor length gown. Jo placed the gown down gently, and examined the remaining contents of the bag. She discovered a pair of long-laced sandals and a simplistic jeweled belt. Jo pulled off her clothes quickly, pulled the gown on over her head. The dress fell like water cascading over her skin and was equally as soft. The neckline of the dress was a solid piece of embroidery that sat around her neck as though it were a necklace, with the material fastened to it in the front and back. This design caused a beautiful drop that started narrow at the back of her neck and fell gently at her hips before ascending back up the front of her figure. Jo fastened the belt around her waist to hold the front of the dress in place and laced her feet into the sandals that she found at the bottom of the bag. As she smoothed her hands over the fabric, a knock came at the door. She giggled to herself at the tentativeness of this man.

“Are you dressed?” Din’s voice followed the knock.

“See for yourself,” she responded flirtatiously. The door slid open and he fell back a step. Jo smiled and walked toward him, feeling the fluidity of her movements in the gown. His gaze was fixated on her. She walked all the way up to him and stared up into his visor.

“You like it?” She teased.

Din was in such awe he couldn’t even manage a single word. All he could offer was a simple nod as he pulled his gloves off. The only thought in his mind was how much he needed to feel her in this moment, with his own skin. He let the gloves fall to the ground and glided his hands along her exposed sides. Jo’s skin felt exquisite beneath his heated fingertips. Every dip, every curve, she was mesmerizing. She sighed and leaned into his touch, silently begging for more. Din pulled her closer and snaked a hand around her back while lifting the other to hold her chin gingerly. His fingers traced up and down her spine, finally resting at the small of her back. She was covered in chills at this point.

“Din…” she whimpered subconsciously. He wanted so badly to pull her into the room and have her in every imaginable way, but he had to stay strong and remember their purpose for being here. He swallowed hard and ignored the growing need between his legs.

“I– I need to get dressed now… We don’t want… to miss it,” he was stating this more for his benefit, rather than hers. She pulled back with a shocked look on her face and for a second he was terrified he had offended her.

“You… you need to get dressed?” Jo asked in disbelief. “As in, you’re going to wear something other than your armor for once?”

“You’ll see,” he swiped a thumb across her lower lip before disappearing behind her and closing the door.

Jo recovered from her shock and went back to the cockpit to wait. She caught her reflection in the glass. She hadn’t looked this elegant since she had last been on world, but something didn’t fit with her current aesthetic. Her hair was tied up high and loose, with strands falling to frame her face and didn’t match the elegance of the dress. She smiled to herself, remembering how her mother used to do her own hair for the Festival. Jo sat back in her chair and took her hair down, then began to work strands into braids that sat tight against the sides of her head and trailed off into her hair that flowed behind. After finishing all four braids, two per side, she looked back into the reflection to check her work. It looked perfect, albeit a little crooked, but that didn’t matter to Jo. Especially when she noticed something else in the reflection. A silhouette of a man standing closely behind her. She moved to stand to look at him, but a pair of strong hands held her shoulders in place.

“Wait,” he said as more of a soft plea rather than a command. “Please.” His voice was so raw and nervous and… unfiltered. Jo’s mouth jaw fell slack as she realized that he wasn’t wearing his helmet. The way he stood behind her kept his upper body shrouded in shadows just enough so she couldn’t make out a single feature. She nodded in agreement to remain seated.

“Thank you…” his voice was so smooth. Smoother than she had remembered. She wanted so badly to look, to see him speak. Then he spoke again.

“My helmet is off. And this is not the first time I have taken it off in recent times, however my face is still mostly hidden. I have already told you that all you have to do is ask and I will show you, but I can not remove my coverings in public. This is important to me so I hope you can understand.” He explained, and he sounded so nervous that it was nearly shattering her heart.

“Why…why not wear your armor, Din? I don’t mind, honest.” Jo reassured him, as she grasped his hand with hers.

“I don’t want anything to ruin this… and a Mandalorian in full armor can often be perceived as a threat or a challenge. That is the last thing I want at this.” He ran his thumb along her shoulder. A small loving gesture, and done completely subconsciously.

“Okay, then I promise I will not do anything against your wishes…” She agreed to his prior ask.

“And Din,” Jo continued, “I’ve always wanted to see your face, and I will always want to see your face. I haven’t asked because I didn’t want to ask you to break your vow… even now I am hesitant, but I’m feeling a little bold at the moment so… consider this a permanent request. Whenever you feel most comfortable, I want you to show me.” Jo took a shaky breath as she finished. She was trembling, hoping she hadn’t overstepped. Din’s hands left her shoulders and her heart dropped.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Din agreed. “You can stand now.” Jo swallowed, her throat suddenly felt very dry. She stood slowly, her back still to him, and then slowly turned. Only turning her head once her body was completely square with his. She took in the beauty of the man before her, absorbing the moments into her soul. He wore loose pants that cinched at the ankles, made of a material identical to her dress, but dyed a deep blue. On his torso he wore a loose white v-necked tunic. The material clung to him in a way that one could swear that the shirt was sculpted to him. Over the tunic was a hooded cloak of crushed velvet, in the same color as the bottoms. His face was as he had said, mostly covered. Mostly. He wore a face covering that started below his eyes and fell loosely down to his shoulders. It was a simple white material and it made the single part of his face that was visible even more highlighted. Finally, her eyes met his.

Her eyes met his.

They were deep set and expressive, with fine lines at the edge, proof that he truly does smile. His eyes were a deep brown, just as he had said, but Jo’s imagination could never have done them justice. Above his eyes were thick brown brows with flecks of white and grey hairs. Jo moved closer with careful deliberate movements. Terrified that this was all an illusion and that if she moved in the wrong way he would fade from existence. His frame tensed as she moved closer to him, and then she reached a gentle hand out to caress his cheek. He melted into her touch. Din hadn’t considered that the covering would only cover his face from view, but do nothing to prevent the feeling of her warmth. Her palm was against his cheek, and he could feel it almost as perfectly as he would if there were no covering. He closed his eyes and gave in to the sensation, going as far as to lean into her hand. Din had no idea how much he craved this, and now he wanted more.

Patience. He reminded himself.

Jo was mesmerized. Watching his eyes open and shut, scanning her face with such intensity and adoration. Is this how he always looked at her? Her mind began to come back to her, and she managed to find her words again.

Jo whispered softly, “You’re stunning…” She lifted her other hand to his face and tilted their heads together, reveling in the fact that she could feel the heat of his forehead against her own.

Din breathed out as if he had been holding his breath, “So are you, mesh’la…”

Din’s eyes were full of peace and joy as he spoke softly once more, “Mesh’la…” She smiled, which he returned. This was something she was going to have to get accustomed to. Being able to see his expressions rather than having to guess. Din held out his hand to her.

The nickname sounded so beautiful without the interference of the modulator.

“Say it again,” she pleaded, her eyes fixed on Din’s. Jo wanted to see him say it again. Wanted to memorize the way his eyes look when he calls her beautiful in his native tongue. He smiled, and her heart leapt. 

“We need to get going, or we will be late,” he announced.

“Late for what?” Jo asked with a giggle as she was led through the ship. Din opened the door to their living quarters and out came little Grogu, dressed in the same color as his father. A small crushed velvet robe, a similar cut as his usual attire but looking far more formal. Jo gasped and lifted him from the carrier.

“Hello handsome boy!” She greeted him, which he responded to with a happy little gurgle. “Look at you… you’re all dressed up like your Dad.” She smiled at Din and then pressed a soft kiss to the top of Grogu’s head before placing him back in his bassinet. Din’s warm hand found hers again, interlacing their fingers together.

“Ready?” Din asked with an eagerness.

“I still don’t know what for, but yes.” Laughed Jo as she was led off the ship.

As they stepped off the ship Jo took in a deep breath, smelling the fresh warm air of her homeworld. Tears threatened the corners of her eyes, but never fell. She was in a state of pure bliss. The sun was just beginning to set, and the sky was a brilliant mixture of blues, pinks, and oranges. In the distance she could hear the drums of the parades marching through the streets of the city and the cheering of the celebrations. Excitement sparked in her veins and she no longer cared what it was Din planned, she knew it would be perfect as long as it was here and with him.

Even though she hadn’t lived in the capital, Jo had been here often enough growing up to feel a sense of nostalgia wandering the streets. The tall domed buildings covered in a variety of flora, the beautiful stone pathways, and all of the beautiful decor for the festival. Lanterns hung from every building, strung through every alley. The brightly colored banners hung off every bannister and colorful flower petals were scattered all around. Every resident and visitor was adorned in their very best and not a weapon in sight, as was customary. At the palace the opening ceremony would be taking place soon, but given that Din was leading her away from the palace that was the intended location. 

They made their way into the marketplace and Jo stopped to take a long inhale in, followed by a very satisfied hum. Din stopped and looked at her with the sweetest confused look in his eyes, she really did love being able to see him like this, even if it was just his eyes.

“What is it? You smell something you would like?” He asked.

She smiled and shook her head as she laughed. “No, not in the way you’re thinking.” She wrapped her hands around one of his arms and gave his bicep a soft squeeze as she began to walk again. 

They were approaching the cliff-side, and it finally occurred to her what his plan was. She clung to his arm closer as the crowd grew denser and denser. There was a stairway leading to an upper level viewing area that was always reserved for those of higher status, politicians and the wealthy. Jo assumed they would stop somewhere near the bottom to find a place to watch, but she was quickly proven wrong when he reached into his cloak pocket and flashed a golden card to the guard. The guard nodded and moved aside, allowing the three to ascend the marble steps.

“How did you get a pass to this…” Jo whispered quietly into Din’s ear as they climbed.

He leaned down into her own ear and whispered back, “I have my ways…” Din winked at her and Jo nearly lost her balance. Never had she imagined seeing him do that, or how insanely sexy it would look. They reached the top step and Jo took in the beauty of the exclusive viewing area.

It was far less populated than the lower level, and offered a variety of comfortable seating areas which were sectioned off by white and gold curtains that blew gently in the breeze. Most of the politicians would be at the palace now, so the few who were here either had no interest in the palace celebrations or were simply wealthy. Several droids were roaming the terrace with platters of food and drink, which Jo happily indulged in. She grabbed a flute of champagne and a small plate of hors d’oeuvres while following Din to a small seating area. He sat down onto a cushioned two-seat as Grogu’s bassinet stopped beside him. Jo sat beside him on the seat and placed her drink on the short table in front of her. 

She picked up a hollowed out, creme filled, piece of fruit and placed it in her mouth. A small amount of creme got on her finger, and she was about to clean it off when her wrist was caught in Din’s firm grasp. Jo looked over at him with a puzzled expression. He kept his eyes locked on hers as he brought her hand to his face and lifted up under his face covering. Her stomach was swirling with butterflies as she felt his lips close around her finger. Din moaned as he sucked the digit clean and then pulled it from his mouth with a small pop. Jo let her hand linger for a moment, tracing along his scruffy jaw before pulling it back out of his face covering. Her heart was hammering in her chest. It had been such a simple act, but so seductive at the same time.

“Come here mesh’la.” He beckoned, relaxing back into the cushions and throwing his arm over the back. She obliged and moved into the crook of his arm, feeling perfectly at peace being this close to him.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” She asked, turning to look up at his eyes. Jo knew that this trip was for her, but she wanted him to have fun too. Din ran a finger along the underside of her jaw as his eyes stared into hers.

“Seeing you look so beautiful, so happy. Being in a beautiful place such as this, with the two beings I care about most in the galaxy… How could I not?” His response made her cheeks warm. Jo hid her face in his chest, making contact with skin visible beneath his collar. Din’s arm that had been resting along the back fell to her shoulders as he held her closer to him. She brought her legs up beside her and relaxed into him, breathing deep against his warm skin. Din’s familiar scent mixed with Naboo night air and it was heavenly. 

Din ran his fingers through her colorful hair, appreciating the fact that he hadn’t been able to do this in public before. There was something he liked about the idea of people seeing her with him. All night long he’d been enjoying having her hold onto him as they roamed the crowded streets, and there was even a small perverse part of him that enjoyed how exposed he was. Din couldn’t remember the last time he had been in a crowd with no armor, let alone no cover whatsoever. When Boba had been assisting him with this scheme he had offered the idea of being able to still be completely covered still, mentioning gloves and a mask. It was Din who had declined. He wanted to be able to touch Jo’s skin. Feel her soft warmth anytime he pleases throughout the trip, despite it going completely against his creed. There was just something about her that cracked the foundations of his faith. That made him want to rebel, to pursue the blasphemous and taboo. She made him yearn to give to hedonistic tendencies. And he loved it.

The couple had been so lost in their own thoughts and in the moment with each other that they hadn’t noticed that one of the service droids had drawn the curtains shut behind them. Each seating area was now completely closed off from each other and the show was about to begin, but Din and Jo were so lost in each other that it wasn’t until the sound of the Royal Band drumline kicking up that they were finally broken out of their respective thoughts. The drumline started off with a soft rolling drum, growing louder and louder until it was thunderous. Then five final hits ricocheted through the canyon and the rest of the band joined in as the sky lit with multicolored explosions and images. Jo sat up and watched the spectacle in amazement, it was even more grand than the last time she had seen it. Her eyes lit up with each explosion and despite the beauty of the show, Din couldn’t take his eyes off her. 

After a few moments of watching the show Jo pried her eyes away for a moment to check if Grogu and Din were watching too. First she checked Grogu, who’s large eyes reflected every flash of color in the sky as he looked on with mouth hanging open. Jo smiled, remembering how it felt to watch the festival lights as a child. She felt so thankful that Din had given that experience to Grogu now, as well as giving this back to herself. Jo moved her eyes to the man who had made all of this happen. When they’re eyes met she felt her heart stop. His eyes were already fixed on her, and they were burning with an intense passion. It was a look she had never seen aimed at her before, and the fact that it was his eyes caused her to vibrate with excitement.

With his eyes still fixed on her, Din lifted his hands to his hood. He gripped the fabric in both hands and pulled it back, revealing his short brown waves. Jo didn’t dare move. She couldn’t even if she had wanted to. Her mind was processing what was happening and she wanted to drink in every last moment of what was about to happen. She watched as the hood fell and she took in every feature as it was revealed to her. His hair was brunette, with a light dusting of white and grey just as his brows had. Din’s hand moved to hook the face covering, resolute in his motions. A crescendo of the music and a rapid flash of colors in the sky punctuated the act as he pulled the cover down around his neck, revealing himself entirely. Revealing his face.

Chapter 11 | Chapter 13 | Masterlist

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian x oc #the mandalorian x ofc #the mandalorian x original female character #the mandalorian x original character #the mandalorian fluff #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fanfic #din djarin x oc #din djarin x ofc #din djarin x original female character #din djarin x original character #din djarin fluff #mando fanfiction #mando fanfic #mando #mando x oc #mando x ofc #mando fluff #mando x original character #mando x original female character #stow away #hunnythebee

[familyfriendlyweed]

late night snaps (quackity x reader)

a/n : before we get into the story, i wanted to thank you all for such support on my first post - i only posted it yesterday, and got a hell lot of likes and reblogs and even gained 23 followers, which is insane for me (or maybe i just don’t know how tumblr works, haha)! anyhow, i’m really happy you guys enjoyed it <3 

 it was 02:37 and you were editing your newest video. you had no idea it would take so long, though! even if you were used to staying up very late, you knew you have to put away your laptop and go get some sleep. 

 saving the video as a draft and shutting your computer off, you started to blindly search for your phone, since your eyes didn’t get used to the darkness yet. finally finding it, you turned it on to set an alarm for the next morning when you suddenly saw a snapchat notification from ten minutes ago. it was from Alex. you curiously unlocked your phone and tapped the little notification to be led straight to snapchat.

idiota : hello mamacita

 your face instantly lit up in a childish smile. you started to type your response eagerly like it wasn’t 2 am and you didn’t have online classes tomorrow. 

 you : why hello there, el señor

 you saw Alex’s silly bitmoji pop up as he started to type.  

 idiota : what is my chica bella doing up so late?

 you giggled, getting comfortable in your bed - this meant a long chatting session on its way.

 you : YOUR chica bella? when did that happen?

 idiota : ANSWER THE QUESTION!!!! >:((((

 you : fine you big baby, i was finishing editing a new video

 idiota : hmm i see, i see

 you : what about you though? u should get some sleep!!! :(((

 Alex’s bitmoji started typing, then stopped for some reason. you lifted your eyebrow at that. then he continued, but it took a while for him to finish.

 idiota : why, i just couldn’t fall asleep when you were on my mind all the time, mi amor

 your cheeks grew red in an instant. you knew you could handle jokes pretty well, but this was quite too much. Alex never got so far as to actually flirt with you.

 you : eh??? what drugs are u on

 idiota : the only drug for me is you mamacita

 you snorted. you had no idea if he was being serious or not, even if the second option was more likely.

 you : literally go to sleep wtf

 idiota : i’d sleep better if you were by my side ;)

 this was enough for you - you felt as if you got one more message like this from him, you’d die from the hotness in your cheeks. setting your phone down, you made your way to the bathroom before bed.

 you came back five minutes later, only to see your phone full of notifications from Alex. your heart was thumping really hard, you weren’t used to this, but you opened snapchat anyway.

 idiota : mamacita?

 idiota : ....

 idiota : mamacita, don’t joke w me like that

 idiota : did you really just leave me on read wtf

 idiota : i’m sad come back :(((

 and at last, there was a snap from him. you were quite scared at this point. with a shaking hand, you opened it.

 you laughed so hard that you seriously thought you’ll have a seizure. still laughing, you snapped a selfie with a cute filter on (you really thought you looked horrible at the moment), captioned it with “your chica bella had to take a piss u simp” and sent it to Alex.

 he opened the snap almost imediatelly and started typing afterwards :

 idiota : mamacita!!!! you look hermosa!!!!

 you : that’s because i have a filter on lmaoo

 idiota : mamacita don’t let yourself down, you are so beautiful :((

 you started to text a sarcastic reply, but stopped. for some reason, Alex seemed like he was being truthful. he wasn’t joking around when he called you beautiful, that was too affectionate.

 you : ...really?

 idiota : si, si! <3

 you tugged at your lip in a thinking manner. true, you had feelings for Alex, but you never thought he had something similar to you. or maybe... maybe he was just supporting you as a friend. figuring that was probably it, you texted :

 you : thank you quacker B]] ur also v handsome

 idiota : mamacita likes me!!!!!😍😍😍

 you smiled sadly. Alex was definitely playing around. you got lost in thought for a few moments, thinking about how would he act if he was actually in love with someone. would he, perhaps, be more mature? that would be very weird to look at.

 finally coming back to planet Earth, you looked at your phone only to see that Alex has written a shit ton of messages again :

 idiota : i want to see you, mamacita

 idiota : it’s fine if u don’t want to, you’re probably going to sleep anyway...

 idiota : but maybe let’s meet tomorrow?

 idiota : mamacita?

 idiota : ....

 idiota : i’m coming over <3

 your heart gave a leap of embarassment and surprise. why would he even say that?

 you : wait what

 you : wdym “i’m coming over”

 you : no tf ur not

 you : go to sleep

 idiota : doesn’t mamacita want to see muah???

 you : no, that would be awesome, but you should go to sleep, really :(

 idiota : y/n, i already told you, i can’t sleep when you’re on my mind

 you froze in spot, staring at your screen for what felt like an eternity. did he just call you by your name? you knew he only says it in serious situations. deciding to change your tactic, you started texting seriously :

 you : are you like... for real now?

 you : because i know you call me by my name in serious situations, but maybe it’s only a prank, so just answer me truthfully, okay?

 Alex started typing, it took even longer that before, but at last you saw his message, this time without caps, spammed question/exclamation marks, nothing silly at all :

 idiota : i am serious, y/n. believe me, this is not a prank. i just really wanna see you. 

 your heart skipped a beat or two, your face renewed its redness. you felt as if you were dreaming.

 you : okay... i’m really glad. come over, please

 idiota : thank you so much

 you started pondering in your head - how did this happen? how did this silly conversation turn out like this? 

 but what if Alex texted you because he wanted to come over in the first place? after all, he knew how shitty your sleep schedule was. that would be awesome, you thought, a small smile dancing on your lips.

 you checked the snap map only to see Alex about 100 meters from you. wait... what? 100 METERS??? was Alex near your place the moment he texted you for the first time?

 you jumped up, starting to tidy up your messy room up, only to remember you look like poop at the moment - hair messy, face tired, clothes scrunched. 

 exhaling heavily, you tried to change your appearance quickly - you ran into the bathroom, brushing your hair panickily. then you wrenched the makeup bag open and started to rummage through it trying to find some mascara or something...

 ding ding! 

 you froze, your eyes widened. he was already here, what the hell?!

 you quickly put on some mascara, ran into the hallway while brushing your face with your hands from stress (completely forgetting you have mascara on, somehow) and unlocked the door.

 Alex’s figure was dark, since the lightbulb in the corridor wasn’t working, and it almost gave you a fright. but as soon as he engulfed you in a warm hug, the tension in the pit of your stomach vanished. you hugged him back almost unsurely, but smiling.

 “hello, mamacita”

 you giggled. for some reason, you got the strongest urge to cry. probably from happiness, but it still was confusing to you. nevertheless, tears started running down your cheeks, mixing with mascara, probably making you look like you were going to a halloween dress up party. 

 “hey, why are you crying?” Alex asked, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

 “i look horrible.” you laughed, wiping your tears away.

 “nooo, why won’t you listen to me? i already told you you’re beautiful.” he said with a cute pout. 

 “alright, alright, i’m very beautiful, let me down now.” you said, noticing that he was still holding you in his arms tightly. 

 “whatever the chica bella says.”

 he put you down.

 “aren’t you going to turn on some light? i feel like i’ve gone blind!” Alex exclaimed jokingly and you giggled.

 “i’m like a bat, i hate much light, sorry. buuuut i could turn on this little lamp.” you said, making your way to your desk and turning on a cute little lamp the shade of warm pink.

 “perfect.” Alex said, eyeing you in light now. you thought he’ll make a comment about your awful mascara-stained face, but he said nothing, just smiling and looking at you in awe, like you were some princess in a ball dress instead of a tired college student in messy shorts, an oversized t-shirt and two different socks, because you couldn’t find a pair of the same ones.

 “perfect.” he repeated, shrugging with a smile on his face, like seeing you was everything he needed.

 you laughed and hugged him, muttering a “thanks for coming”. Alex didn’t hesitate and also hugged you, holding you as close as possible, as if he let go of you, he’d drown and would never come back to be by your side again. 

 little did you know, he felt the exact same way.

#quackity #quackity x reader #quackity imagines #quackity imagine #dream smp imagines #dream smp x reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt imagines

[dreamwritesimagines]

Burn The Witch 17 - Bad Habit [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.

Summary: Everyone needs help sometimes.

Series Masterlist

It wasn’t that there weren’t any spies who didn’t lie to their superiors.

There just weren’t any spies who lied to their superiors and lived to tell the tale, especially on high stakes missions like these.

You tried to convince yourself that the General would never find out, but that wasn’t the only reason why you were freaking out. Putting false information on your report was bad, yes, but the worst part was that you were beginning to find it harder and harder to report whatever information you found out about your fake boyfriend.

For some reason, you had a feeling it wouldn’t just stop at one lie.

Your eyes opened as you snapped out of your sleep all of a sudden and you took a look at the window, but it was still dark outside. That wasn’t the problem, the problem was that you had gone to sleep with Bucky by your side but now you were in an empty bed.

“Bucky?” you whispered into the darkness and sat up in the bed. After kicking off the covers, you made your way to the living room but as soon as you got there, he opened his eyes and turned his head to look at you.

“Hey,” you whispered, “Are you okay? Are the bandages too tight?”

He pressed a hand over his side to check the bandage, then shook his head.

“No, no…” he said, “Did I wake you up?”

“Nope,” you said, “Is the bed too uncomfortable?”

“The opposite.”

You tilted your head “The bed is too…comfortable?”

He let out a small bitter chuckle and ran a hand over his face as you stepped into the room, then sat down on the floor as well.

“I’m not really used to…” he waved a hand to motion around you, “It’s not familiar to be comfortable.”

Ah.

Of course. You should’ve seen it coming, he was a soldier and coming back home was always so hard for soldiers, especially in Bucky’s situation.

You had so many nightmares after bad missions, you had no idea how you would sleep if you had anything close to what he had been through.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked and he shook his head again.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I was hoping this wouldn’t happen.”

“Don’t be,” you murmured, “Do you want to be alone?”

“No,” he paused for a moment, “Please stay.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you pushed your hair behind you ear, taking a look at the pillow and the throw on the couch, then grabbed them and put them on the floor.

“Y/N, you’re not sleeping on the floor.”

You rushed to the bedroom to grab your pillows and the blanket off the bed, then went back to the living room.

“What are you doing?”

“It’ll be fun,” you said, putting the pillows and blanket on the floor. “Like we’re outside, only not with…annoying bugs.”

“You’re not serious.”

You plopped down the floor and gave him a bright smile. “I am!”

“Darling….” He started but shook his head with a sigh as you lay on your side, pulling the blanket over your shoulders.

“I’m very stubborn, you’re wasting your time if you’re trying to change my mind,” you informed him and he shot you a small smile, then lay down as well. You entwined your fingers with his, then looked up at the ceiling.

“My virtue is so screwed,” you pointed out, making him huff out a laughter.

“Oh absolutely.”

“I mean, there goes my hopes of…” you trailed off, “White picket fence house and puffy skirts and homemade pies.”

“What, you don’t want them with me?” he asked and your heart skipped a beat, then you stole a look at him.

“Can you even imagine that?”

“Yes I can.”

“I think I picture a movie,” you said, “There’s this….big yard, and white picket fences and we painted the house white but the door is red.  And there’s a dog and— feel free to stop me anytime, Bucky.”

“Don’t,” he smiled as if picturing what you were describing made him happy, “Just keep going.”

“We have a rescue dog,” you said, “We got him from a shelter and named him… um, we named him something funny.”

“Is it a big dog?”

“Yeah and you take him on a run every night. Mornings with me, nights with you.”

“That’s a good schedule.”

“He likes me better.”

“Ouch,” his smile widened, “I don’t blame him.”

You hummed, “And you have a mustache I think.”

He shot you a look, “If you say a Clark Gable mustache…”

“I’m just putting it out there—”

“Nope. Not gonna happen.”

“Fine,” you let out a laugh, “And we have an apple tree in the garden. Wait no— we have an apple tree and a peach tree.”

“How big is the garden?”

“Not so big,” you said, “Like in those movies.”

He paused for a moment and you stole a look at him.

“You wanted a big garden?”

“Well,” he said, “We need a big garden for the treehouse.”

“We have a treehouse?”

“Depends,” he said slowly, as if he was intimidated, “Kids love treehouses.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of having kids with him, for the hundredth time the image of a happier future where you weren’t a spy flashing in front of your eyes. You tried to stop the smile pulling at your lips.

“Yeah,” you said, “I think our kids would love them too.”

You could see the ghost of a smile on his face as he rubbed his thumb over your hand.

“Yeah?”

“Mm hm,” you yawned, “And in summer we would put a bouncy house thing in the garden and we would put a hammock between the peach tree and the apple tree and we would relax there while the kids are wreaking havoc in the bouncy house.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, sleep luring you as you closed your eyes, taking in his scent, “Sounds like a good plan.”

                                                           ***

You really didn’t have time to second guess yourself today. Yes you had lied to the General and spent the whole night with Bucky imagining an impossible future but now, you had to keep your head in the game.

You would figure out what you would do. Eventually.

This was a mission. You had to start acting like it.

“I don’t think I like this one,” you called out from the dressing room and in a second, the door opened to reveal Chloe who raised her brows.

“Wow.”

You tilted your head and stepped outside to look at yourself better. The gold body chain wrapped around the lingerie gleamed under the shop’s bright lights and you fixed the suspenders, clicking your tongue.

“Nah. I don’t think so.”

“Wow,” she said again, “I hate you so much, why do you look so hot in lingerie?”

“Chloe, every woman looks hot in lingerie,” you said as you walked back to the dressing room to try the next lingerie set. It was a red lace bodysuit and after a moment of struggle, you got into it, and opened the door again.

“Not this one either.”

“I can’t believe you’re going to sleep with him!” Chloe squealed, “Are you excited?”

You cleared your throat, “It’s just a mission.”

“Yeah but you want to sleep with him?”

“The dude is hot.”

“Y/N.”

“What?” you fixed your hair and frowned at your reflection, “Nope. I don’t like this. It’s too….meh.”

“I doubt Barnes would say meh if he saw you in this,” she said, “He’d probably pass out. You look like you’re about to grab your whip or something. Oh— Y/N, you should like tie him up or something! If we’re not going full on vintage, show him the modern fun times!”

You shot her a look, “Something tells me he doesn’t like to be tied up Chloe.”

“Why not?”

“Uh, because HYDRA scumbags tied him up a lot and he still has nightmares about it?”

“Ah,” she said, “I forgot about that. Hey, maybe he could tie you up!”

“I’ll tell you the same thing I said to Julian when he suggested I called him sir in bed,” you stated, “No thank you, I don’t do that sub thing.”

“Now I kind of wish we specified your cover’s kinks,” she heaved a sigh, “It’d make things so much easier.”

“My cover likes to be in control.”

“No, real you likes to be in control,” she corrected you, “Nothing about your cover says control.”

“Chloe—“ you started but stopped talking when the shop assistant approached you.

“Do you find it to your liking?”

“Um, not exactly,” you said, “I mean I like the color but overall—“

“Do you have bridal sets?” Chloe cut you off and your eyes widened.

“Easy there.”

“Like maybe soft pastel tones…. The whole thing though, garter belt and stockings and everything.”

“Of course!” she said, “We have some new arrivals, let me bring them here.”

“Chloe!” you whispered as the shop assistant walked away, “What the fuck?”

“Think about the dresses we picked for your cover,” she said, “Soft pastels. It makes sense that your cover would pick those shades in lingerie too.”

“Bridal? Really?”

“I mean, Barnes will want to propose you right there when he sees you in them so…” she grinned at you while you narrowed your eyes at her, “Come on! I’m very curious about how he is in bed.”

You tilted your head, “Is there anything you’d like to tell me?” you asked, “Because love triangles are so early 2000s.”

“Hilarious,” she deadpanned, “And no. My type is more—relaxed. Less serious.”

You scoffed and leaned back on the wall, crossing your arms, “You could just say Keith.”

She shifted her weight, biting on her lip. “I mean…” she trailed off, “He still doesn’t make a move though.”

“Why don’t you make a move?”

“I could never!” she gasped, “Nope. Ever. Besides, I thought you were against me dating spies.”

“I am,” you admitted, “But it’s your love life. If you want to date a guy who has an extremely dangerous job and worry about whether or not he will come back to you alive….”

“You’re very romantic, Y/N,” she said as the assistant came closer, holding the set. Even you had to admit, it looked very sexy and beautiful at the same time, with soft pastel lace adorning the fabric, and you took a look at the basque, then walked inside.

“Besides, you’re the one to talk.” Chloe called out as you got into the lingerie, then ran your fingers over the garter belt.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Your boyfriend does dangerous stuff too.”

“Fake boyfriend,” you corrected her, fixing the basque, and as soon as your reflection caught your eye, you raised your brows.

“Okay, maybe you had a point,” you admitted and opened the door, and Chloe grinned at you.

“See,” she said, “This is what I was talking about.”

You smirked at her and leaned on your hip, still looking in the mirror.

“Fine, I like this one.”

“Told you,” she sang and you crossed your arms.

“What dangerous stuff has he been doing lately?”

“He was texting with Wilson about some HYDRA person,” Chloe said, “Apparently they want to go after him. Tonight.”

“What HYDRA person?”

“No clue. And we can’t send a team because then it’ll be obvious— Y/N, I know that look,” she shook her head fervently, “No.”

You tried to look as innocent as possible, “I didn’t say anything.”

“You want to go after the same HYDRA person as them, but you have specific orders and we still haven’t got the okay from the top of the chain of command to go after that scum.”

“Chloe.”

“No. I’m not going to give you the address.”

“Well if Barnes ends up dead, I won’t have a mission will I?”

“He’s going to be fine, he fights better than you.”

You gasped, “How dare you?”

“He fights better than everyone in the division!” she insisted, “He can take care of himself.”

You pouted, “Fine,” you said, “I guess I won’t give Keith the idea of taking you out on a date then.”

She paused for a moment, “That’s bribery.”

“Uh huh.”

“You have no shame, do you?”

You motioned at the lingerie set you were in, “Does it look like it?”

She rubbed at her eye and let out a small whine.

“If my dad asks—“

“He’s not going to know.”

“Do you promise to behave?”

“I always behave,” you stated, making her snort.

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

“Please?” you asked, “I promise I’ll be safe. I’ll just make sure he’s alive, that’s it. I won’t get involved in anything.”

“You promise?”

“Cross my heart.”

Chloe pursed her lips. “For your information, I think picnics are romantic.”

“Dully noted,” you said, “Trust me, he will take you on a picnic. So, do we have a deal?”

She rolled her eyes, then nodded, making you let out a laugh and walk back to the changing room.

“I want candles on that picnic too!”

“Send me the list of your demands,” you called out, “I’ll make sure they’re all covered.”

                                                      ***

In all honesty, Chloe was terrible at saying no to people, especially the people she loved.

You fixed your ski mask as you took a look at the text Bucky had sent you after you asked him what he was doing;

Nothing much, going home soon. You?  

“Liar liar….” You sang as you typed your reply.

Soup Kitchen was so tiring, I think I’ll go to bed early tonight.

Fine. Maybe he wasn’t the only liar in this relationship.

You took a look at the building’s window through your binoculars, then lowered them to check your phone when it vibrated.

Good idea. Sweet dreams darling.

You tried to ignore the smile on your lips but as soon as you heard gunshots coming from the building, your head shot up.

“Shit,” you murmured and tried to see what was happening, but it was impossible. Whoever they were, they were definitely staying away from windows.

“Not gonna get involved,” you muttered, “Not gonna get involved, it’s stupid and puts the mission in danger. I’ll stay right here, he can take care of himself.”

For about five seconds, it worked.

“I’m being stupid,” you mumbled to yourself as you grabbed the gear around your waist, then checked whether it would actually carry you, “I’m being so fucking stupid, I haven’t even slept with the dude yet….”

You went over to the edge of the rooftop, then took a deep breath, grabbed the cables and jumped to crash through the window of the building the gunshots were coming from. You pulled your gun to shoot the person who looked like he was about to shoot Bucky, sending him to the ground and Bucky pushed the guy he was fighting with through the wall, then turned around to point the gun at you but as soon as he did, he frowned.

“….Shrike?”

“Hi handsome.” You unbuckled the rope from the harness, sending it up to the rooftop again as he lowered his gun. “Need a hand?”

Chapter 18

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine

[mysticalrambling]

Adorable Addition(Part 2)

Chris Evans Fanfiction (Fan Fiction Masterlist)

(Part 1)

Warnings: None. Fluff all the way.

Summary: dad!Chris Evans x reader. Chris and you decide to adopt a dog when you see your son with Scott's dog. It is a cute family day and you all enjoy it to the fullest.

._._._._._.

“Can you please take out Dodger for his morning walk? I will handle the children.” Coming up behind your husband, you started to gently massage his shoulders.

“Are you sure you can handle both of them?” He moaned when you starting to untangle all the tight knots in his back.

“Yes, I am. Just let me distract Oliver first because he will throw a fit if you did not take him with.” Your elder son has been more than clingy towards Chris from the moment the baby has arrived. Getting jealous of even you when you kiss or cuddle with your husband. He is the only one allowed to be with his daddy and now he won’t even let Chris pet Dodger. It was adorable at first but now it is slowly becoming a nuisance.

“If you don’t mind, I will take Ollie with me to the park because we haven’t spent much time together.” Laughing at your husband’s puppy dog eyes, you are reminded that he was just as obsessed with his little prince as well. You wanted to remind him that from the moment he has come back from his set in Los Angeles, he has spent most of his time with Oliver.

“I don’t mind and I will get him ready.” The new found habit that your son had developed was to wear something related to Captain America, whether it is a shirt or a hat. Today, he decided upon Captain America sneakers and you did not even have the energy to lecture him about his stubbornness.

“Ready to go, bubba?” Holding an overjoyed dog with his leash, Chris extended his hands towards his firstborn.

"Can we get ice cream on the way?"

"Yes, you can." "No." You both spoke out at the same time and then turned to stare at each other. Sometimes, your husband acted like a three and a half year old child instead of your actual son. He knew that Ollie always gets stomach ache after eating sweets and he still fulfills all his wishes.

"Chris, you know what happens afterwards." It was like trying to reason with a wall when he passed you one of his cheeky smile.

The moment you were about to argue with him, you heard a cry from the baby monitor, signaling your little princess was up. Emma was truly a blessing in disguise because she was a very calm baby as compared to your son. It was such a smooth pregnancy that you both were sometimes worried that something might have been wrong with the baby. From the moment she was born, your world changed a lot but in a good way. She hardly cried and the best thing about her was that she was really attached to you.

"Looks like our princess is up. You better go to her because she won't come to me quietly." Jealousy flashed through Chris's blue eyes because he always thought that your daughter would be a daddy's girl from the very start. But boy, was he wrong. He found that out from day one when she did not stop crying until she was back in your arms.

"Don't be jealous, baby. Now go to the park and remember no ice cream."

"Of course, darling." He quickly strapped Oliver in to his stroller and pulled the shades down. Chris was still not okay with the paparazzi taking his family's pictures and he did everything to avoid that. The moment they stepped out of the house, you ran towards your baby's nursery room. She was fussing now and you knew she wanted to be fed so you got to the task.

"Daddy, why didn't we take baby sister with us?" questioning Chris through the shield, he played with his Captain America teddy bear.

"She is too young right now to play with you but Dodger and I are here so you will have a lot fun."

"Daddy, pick me up, please."

"No, bubba. You just play with your toys till we arrive to the park."

"Please, Daddy. Now! Now!" He started to repeat the words over and over again. Chris tried to quiet him down by giving him his pacifier and more toys but nothing seemed to work.

"Be quiet, Oliver." Chris ran out of patience and snapped at his son. However, regret and guilt washed over him soon afterwards when he saw Oliver's chin wobble and tears pooling in his eyes. The little boy knew that when his dad called him by name then he was really mad.

"Sorry," whispering slowly from the stroller, he started to play with his stuffed toy.

"I am sorry, baby." Quickly putting together the baby sling on his upper body, he slid Oliver in to it and used both his arms to hold on to the stroller and the leash. "Happy, little guy?"

"Yes!" Oliver laid his head on his father's chest and gently sucked on his teddy bear pacifier. Chris ignored the paparazzi that was trailing behind them because his son was his top most priority right now.

The moment they arrived at the park, Oliver tried to wiggle out of the carrier and Chris quickly undid the straps. Dodger and Oliver have been inseparable from the moment they met each other. The kid got jealous when his Dodgie started to pay attention to the new born baby. He did not want to share Chris's or Dodger's attention with anyone and that is the reason why he took so long to get accustomed to his baby sister.

"Enjoy, baby." Chris made sure that Oliver did not leave his sight and did not mingle with any strangers. He made it clear to his fans that he wanted some privacy with his family. This was a private moment and his fans respected that. Chris was truly glad to have a following that were not toxic. "Let's go get some ice cream now."

He called out after he saw that his son was all sweaty and worked up after all the chasing around and playing on the swings. Your son immediately dropped the frisbee and skipped over to you with Dodger hot on his tail. Getting a chocolate ice cream, he wanted to be picked by his father again. Chris knew that his shirt would get dirty but his family was worth it.

“Honey, we are home.” Tiny pitter patter outside your room alerted you of your son running towards your room. Chris followed suit with a stained shirt. You just shook your head at him and mentally checked if there was still some Tylenol in your medicine cabinet.

As soon as he came out of the closet with a new shirt on, he plopped on the side of your now awake daughter. She was dressed in a baby pink polka dot dress with a matching headband and a pink pacifier. Making grabby hands towards Chris, she gave him a smile that showcased her two new front teeth. He was over the moon and immediately cuddled with his babygirl.

“I am going downstairs to make some dinner. Ollie, you want to help?” This was your bonding time with your baby boy where he tells you about his day and all of his feelings regarding the events. He told you all about his day today and how he made Chris mad. You gently explained to him that stubbornness was not a good trait and parents sometimes get angry. But that doesn’t mean that you guys hated him. “Dinner is ready, Chris. Come downstairs.”

“I want to sit with daddy too.” Both the kids were perched on his lap as you fed them both dinner. Chris stole a few bites in between and you laughed when Emma smudged her dirty hands on Oliver’s cheeks. Dodger sauntered in the dining room and went straight towards his eating bowl. This was your family and you cherished every moment you spent with them. The adorable additions to the family have been a blessing and you plan on cherishing them forever.

Hope you guys enjoyed it!!

._._._._._._.

A/N: This is just some family dribble that I wrote related to Chris Evans. I just love the idea of dad Chris. Send me some ideas related to Chris as a family man and I will be happy to write about it.

P.S. Thank you for motivating me to write a part 2. Tell me if you want another one.

Like, comment and reblog.

Taglist: @maximeevansblog, @justile

._._._._._._.

#rachelleblodgettwrites #my writing #creative writing #writing community #tumblr writing #writer #fanfiction #fluff #wattpad #chris evans #chris evans fic #chris evans fluff #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female reader #dad chris evans #dad!steve rogers #kids #family #cevans #chris evans x wife!reader #chris evans x y/n #marvel #The Avengers #movies #tv shows #andy barber #steve rogers #defending jacob #mcu #chris evans blurb

[nikethestatue]

La Dolce Vita

Summary: Elain Archeron and Azriel - in love, in lust, in Italy

Modern AU *slight TOG crossover. If you read my stuff, you know it’s LONG

Warnings: bad language and THIS IS NSFW (not kidding, this is a story, not just sex, but there is a LOT of explicit material here. You can still read the story, but if you are sensitive or underage, skip the naughty bits)

Comments are always appreciated/wanted/needed. Anon or not, just do it! Obviously, reblogs are appreciated. 

Part I (Flowers)

 La Vie En Rose

De l'homme auquel j'appartiens (Of the man to whom I belong)  Quand il me prend dans ses bras Il me parle l'a tout bas (He speaks to me softly) Je vois la vie en rose (And I see life in pink) Il me dit des mots d'amour (He speaks words of love to me) Des mots de tous les jours (They are every day words) Et ça m' fait quelque chose (And they do something to me) Il est entré dans mon coeur (He has entered into my heart) Une part de bonheur (A bit of happiness) Dont je connais la cause (That I know the cause of) C'est lui pour moi (It's only him for me) Moi pour lui dans la vie (And me for him, for life)

Now

Riding in a Ferrari, being enveloped in its supple, buttery leather, gulping in the cypress and cedar-scented air of Tuscany was everything that Elain Archeron had ever wanted. She never knew that this is what she wanted, because riding in very fast, very expensive, sleek Italian cars wasn’t on her ‘fantasy radar’, but now that she was in one, she suddenly came to the realization that this was perhaps one of the best experiences of her life.

The whole thing, so far, has been the best experience of her life.

Well…maybe not the best-best.

Her happiness was deeply intertwined with and caused by the man in the driver seat of the said Ferrari—Azriel. Azriel Archeron, as he loved calling himself. Even if this wasn’t his last name, he preferred using it over his family name, for a variety of personal reasons. There was nothing better, more sublime, more beautiful and more loving than Azriel. The perfect male specimen, if she could say so herself. No one would argue with her assessment either.

Elain

 They were introduced by her sister’s then-boyfriend Cass, who was giving her a lift one afternoon, and then suggested that they stop by Azriel’s car atelier, because he needed to pick something up.

Elain’s heard of the mysterious Azriel from her sisters, both of whom had claimed that he was the most handsome man that either one of them had ever seen. Elain chuckled at the exuberant praise, doubting its truthfulness. There was no such thing as the ‘most handsome’ man. Beauty was in the eyes of the beholder.

She wasn’t sure what a car atelier was, and when Cassian pulled up to a modern-looking building, she said that she’d stay in the car and wait.

“Come on, petal, don’t be shy,” Cassian urged her, holding the car door open for her in a way that indicated that she’d have to get out and follow him.

They entered the foyer, a vast space with racing stripes painted on the polished cement floor, and a sea of model cars dropping from the ceiling. Behind a wall of glass, Elain spied a row of gorgeous cars, none of which were familiar to her. Some unique European models, fit for James Bond’s consumption. There were also neat antique cars, probably from the 50s. She immediately had visions of Grace Kelly and Cary Grant riding in one of these along the Riviera coast.

“What’s this place?” she inquired, looking around at the mid-century modern building that resembled a spaceship.

“This is Az’s baby,” Cass explained vaguely. “Conceived, conceptualized, restored, outfitted—all by the brilliant mind of one Azriel Bagarat.”

“Are you bragging?”

A deep, sensual voice, that could only be called ‘midnight’ sounded behind them, and Cassian’s handsome, tanned face broke in a mischievous smile. “Only about you, brother!”

When Elain turned around, her breath was knocked out from her lungs.

She didn’t know that it was possible, to be actually stunned by someone’s beauty, but there she stood, gaping, feeling the world slow and move in a different manner for a few moments.

Standing at a towering 6”4 or so, the man was at least as tall as Cassian, and Cassian was the tallest man Elain’d ever met. She was just as muscular, but not as bulky. Clad in all black, from expensive, well-tailored Diesel jeans, to a soft t-shirt that stretched over his sharply cut torso, emphasizing the thick muscles of his arms and shoulders, and the narrow waist, true to her sisters’ word, this Azriel was simply exquisite.

Cassian draped his heavy arm around her shoulders and nudged her forward, just a bit, and said,

“Petal, say hello! This is my brother, Azriel. Az, this is my soon-to-be-sister-in-law, the one and only Elain Archeron.”

At the words ‘sister-in-law’ Elain whipped her head to Cassian, who grinned maniacally at her, nodding and answering her silent question.

“When? What are you talking about?” she exclaimed, Azriel momentarily forgotten. “What do you mean? You’ve only been seeing each other for like three months?!?”

“Baby girl, I don’t need three years to decide…Nes is Nes and she is the one for me.”

He shrugged with his usual ease, acting like they were discussing the weather or a good burger that he just ate.

“If Nes hears even a whiff of this, I will know it’s you, petal, and well, I am not sure what I will do,” he decided upon reflection, but then pleaded, “please, don’t tell her. This one,” he nodded towards Azriel, who was standing still, green eyes peeled to Elain, “I can trust. He hardly ever talks,”

“That’s because you talk for all of us,” noted Azriel with a smirk.

Elain chuckled, and turned back to face him.

He extended his hand to her, with an odd, tentative movement, and when she looked down, she saw old, mottled scars that covered his palm and part of his wrist and forearm. A vintage Patek Phillipe on his wrist.

“Beautiful,” she murmured, and he gave her a surprised look, unsure of what she was referring to.

“It’s always a pleasure to meet another Archeron sister,” he said with a soft smile, which made Elain lose her ability to speak for a good few moments, because she was finally able to take in that face that defied description. The sharp cheekbones and the mesmerizing amber and emerald eyes, almond-shaped and slanted hinted at a varied heritage, and unfairly, the man also possessed a perfect nose, and a full, sensuous mouth. He was the very definition of tall, dark, and handsome, with skin of burnished bronze, which was so in contrast to his bright eyes and raven-black hair, cut in a fashionable undercut. The physique, as she already noted, quickly skimming over the body, matched the face.

“Yes, me too,” she said stupidly.

Graceful, like a courtier, he offered her his arm and said,

“Would you like me to show you around?”

She didn’t want to be impolite, though she suddenly felt sweaty and nervous, and completely out of her league. But she threaded her hand through his arm and lightly squeezed the firm, alarmingly thick bicep.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

She wasn’t sure what she was thinking him for, so she added, “yes, I’d love to see it.”

“Why haven’t we met?” he inquired, those green eyes watching her with such intensity that she felt almost undressed, bared under the gaze. It wasn’t unpleasant, because it wasn’t lascivious, and he didn’t strike her as someone who’d be disrespectful to women.

“I’ve been busy for the past half a year,” she explained.

“Doing what?”

They walked down the wide passage, past all the cars, which Azriel pointed out with a wave of his scarred hand, and dropped names like Pagani, BMW I8, Bugatti Divo, Bugatti Centodieci, Lamborghini Veneto, Koenigsegg CCXR Trevita and so forth. Elain might not have known a ton about cars, but she was not so unaware not to know that a Bugatti and a Lambo were expensive cars.

Cassian fell behind, gawking at the display.

“I was opening my own business,” Elain said, her head thrown back, looking at an entire toy racetrack mounted to the ceiling, with cars zooming by, and somehow, not falling on patrons’ heads.

“What sort of business?”

“Flowers,” she said absently, once they reached another space—a two story-restaurant, bar, and a patio outside as well.

“Flowers?”

“Oh, a flower shop,” she explained at last. Then muttered, awed, “this is really incredible!”

“A car enthusiast?” he smirked.

She didn’t know how it happened, but somehow, her hand migrated from the crook of his arm to his hand, and now, they walked along the walls lined with Ferrari posters, memorabilia and expensive everything. Walking and holding hands.

“I wouldn’t call myself one,” she admitted, “but I find cars aesthetically pleasing…Never got to ride in anything fancier than a Mercedes or a Lexus,”

“Well, we should remedy that at once!” he decided easily and then said, “pick you up on Friday at seven?”

That sobered her up a bit and she turned to face him. They stopped at the long, chrome-lined bar, and he said, “An espresso?”

“Um,”

But before she could respond, he was behind the counter, playing with a very fancy coffee machine that required a PhD to operate with all the levers and hooks and buttons, and in a few minutes, he poured her a tiny cup of coffee, thick with natural foam, and heady with its enticing scent.

He chugged his own in one go and she followed him, gulping her espresso in two sips. It was better than anything she’d ever drunk in her life.

“Like a date?” she finally asked, truly confused by the offer.

“Would you like it to be a date?” he leaned on the bar, biceps flexing, his arms covered in tattoo sleeves that reached all the way to his fingers. They were quite beautiful, the tattoos, the placement and the design, and Elain recognized the style, since Cassian and Rhysand wore the same kinds of tattoos, if not so extensive.

“Did you draw these?” she asked bluntly, touching her finger to a thick snaking black line, which was shaded with cobalt.

He looked down, at her hand and his arm and nodded, following her finger with his eyes.

“I did. For the three of us. When we made Navy Seals,”

“You are a Seal, too?” she exclaimed.

He smiled and nodded, “Well, we all grew up in foster care—not all, Cass and I,”

“I heard,”

“Until Rhys’s parents adopted us. But we weren’t the…best of boys,” he chortled, “so to get our heads straight, we were sent to the Navy after school. We figured we’d only stay a bit, but we stayed for a while.”

“So, you are retired?”

“We are vets,”

“How old are you?” she blurted. Then blushed and said, “I am sorry. I am usually not so impolite,”

He laughed, “I figured. But that’s alright. I’ll tell you on Friday, though. If you don’t mind?”

“I mean, I don’t mind,” she murmured, her eyes dropping to her espresso cup, “but,”

“How about this—I take you on a drive in one of these fancy cars—and then you can brag to everyone that you’d driven in a,”

He paused and rubbed his chin,

“Any preference?”

“For what?”

“What car you’d like to go in?”

“I don’t know,”

“Throw something at me,” he urged, eyes glinting with feral delight.

Elain, blush deepening, finally said, “Do you have a Ferrari? I’ve always wanted to drive in a Ferrari.”

“Ahhh, a Ferrarista at heart!” he nodded with approval, folding his arms on his chest, “stick with the classic and the best. And yes, gorgeous, I do have a Ferrari or two.”

Gorgeous.

Azriel

The girl who’d arrived with Cassian, was not Nesta, but there was something vaguely familiar about her. The girl who’d arrived with Cassian was the most gorgeous creature that Azriel had ever seen. Gorgeous and completely unaware.

Women like her, if they were smart and cunning and ambitious, used their beauty for all things good and terrible. But this exquisite creature that Cassian was so blatantly hugging and teasing wasn’t one of those women. Azriel was all too familiar with the types—the maneaters, who hounded him like sharks. He was wealthy, and good-looking, and a decent person, if not exactly a saint. He hobnobbed with celebrities who came to order his cars, which he designed and outfitted based on their specifications and desires.

He was finnicky when it came to taste though. No matter how much rappers asked him to clad their Maybach in gold or some vapid Gucci print, no matter how many heiresses pouted and asked for a bubblegum or Barbie-pink Ferraris, he did not betray the essence and soul of the vehicle. Modify, define, sharpen, stylize—he did it all with precision and skill which was unparalleled. But Azriel Bagarat was known for rejecting even the juiciest of offers, if the request did not coincide with his aesthetic or the history of the car.

He was at his shop—that’s what he called it, though atelier sounded infinitely better and more expensive—that afternoon, knowing that Cassian was going to drop by and select a car for his grandiose proposal to Nesta. There was some concern that Cassian would not fit his 6”5 form into an Aston Martin or a Bentley, so they needed to make sure that the car was appropriate for the occasion and the occupant. Cass insisted on a British vehicle, feeling that Nesta would like something classic and timeless. So be it.

What Azriel did not expect to see that Tuesday afternoon was a girl--because he hesitated to call her a ‘woman’, since she looked so lovely and perfect and innocent--who took his breath away.

His breath had been taken away only once before, by Rhys’s cousin, who strolled like a ray of sunshine into their broken lives.

However, Morrigan chose Cassian. And then Cassian promptly impregnated her, causing a great discontent and strife between everyone. Morrigan, or rather Morgana d’Adda, though she anglicized her name, even if Morrigan d’Adda sounded funny, was just about disavowed by her family for tumbling, and being so stupid and blind as to get knocked up by a hulking nobody mulatto, as her father Keir called Cassian. Rather, sneered, at Cassian.

Even if Azriel didn’t impregnate anybody, he somehow got looped into the family bullshit and once he and Cassian turned 18, they were both shipped off to the navy. To the dismay of the entire Darling clan, Rhys followed them, tossing away his guaranteed admittance to Brown. An Ivy League school for rich stupid heirs. Only Rhys wasn’t stupid. Neither was Cassian a hulking nobody mulatto. And Azriel wasn’t just the ‘fucking weird kid, who might be a serial killer’. They served and they passed the insane Navy Seal training, and they proved themselves.

Nowadays, Cassian now ran security for the Darling conglomerate, while Rhys took over the reins when his father was killed in a car accident. Azriel found his own path, though the association with the Darling name certainly helped his exposure and in building relationships and meeting all the right people. And meeting all the women. The three brothers had gone through their share of wild times, but in the past 3 years, things began to calm down for them.

It began with Rhys meeting Feyre Archeron at an art gallery, where she was exhibiting some of her pieces. Azriel had tugged along with Rhys to see the exhibit, because Rhys was looking for some art for his new office, and he trusted Azriel’s taste and knowledge, and wanted a second pair of eyes.

Rhys followed Feyre like a dog throughout the evening—Azriel was there to witness the pathetic display—and then they ended up at a bar, doing shots and feeding Feyre virgin Cosmos, since she wasn’t even 21 yet. They went to some dance club, Azriel playing the third-wheel and ‘chaperone’, though by the end of the night, Rhys and Feyre disappeared together and weren’t heard from for the next three days.

… “What if he killed her?” proposed Cassian for 100th time, pacing back and forth, running his fingers through his long black hair. “Or what if she killed him?”

“I thought that I was the serial killer among the three of us,” drawled Azriel, sprawled on a sofa, watching a game. He wasn’t as concerned, having seen Rhys dripping with intense lust at the sight of the brown-haired teen. It was unusual, since at that time Rhys was almost 25, and Feyre only 19, and the three of them typically tried to avoid teenagers like the plague. But Rhysand Darling seemed genuinely enthralled.

“No, you are the guy with the sex dungeon,” corrected Cassian.

Azriel rolled his eyes, “serial killer with a sex dungeon, huh? Sounds like an interesting story. Alas, much as I’d like to, I don’t have a sex dungeon.”

“Aren’t you building one? In that new garage of yours?” Cassian shrugged.

“Only cars. No sex toys,” sighed Azriel, looking like that might have been an omission on his part.

“Gents, I think I am in love!” the door burst open and a wild-eyed Rhys appeared, his normally pristine hair in disarray, his cheeks flushed, wearing only a white t-shirt and jeans.

“Where the fuck were you for three days?” growled Cassian, showing considerable relief at the sight of his brother.

“Falling in love,” crooned Rhys, falling into a chair, a stupid, dazed look on his face.

“You look like Audrey Hepburn in ‘Sabrina’,” noted Azriel.

“I feel like Audrey Hepburn!” exclaimed Rhys. “She is perfect. Feyre is perfect.”

What the fuck? Mouthed Cassian in confusion.

“Feyre Darling,” whispered Rhys with delight, eyes closed, tasting the sound of the name on his tongue. “Feyre Archeron Darling. Or Feyre Darling Archeron?”

“You alright there, buddy?” Cassian frowned. “A little early to be talking last names?”

“She’ll be my wife,” announced Rhysand with his usually unwavering confidence.

And that was that.

Now, the ‘society wedding of the year’ was coming up in three months. Rhysand Darling and Feyre Archeron, the toast of the town, the power couple, the young and beautiful billionaires.

 Now, Azriel stood in front of the most stunning female he’d ever seen and for once, he felt like Rhys. His brain turned into a soupy mess, and he found himself tongue-tied and concentrating was suddenly difficult. He wanted to be a gracious host and a confident, formidable man, who had a reputation to uphold—though he wasn’t sure if Elain was aware of his reputation—but inside, he was a mess. All his insecurities, doubts and self-hate rose to the surface at once, and he hesitated to extend his hand in greeting to her. His mangled, horrible, revolting hand, which was sullied beyond its extensive scars. A hand that killed, and touched way too women, some of whom he probably shouldn’t have been touching at all.

“Beautiful,” she murmured softly, that gorgeous blush spreading over her rose-petal cheeks.

He was so taken aback by the comment, he was nearly flabbergasted when she didn’t pull away, didn’t frown or grimace in disgust, didn’t display any of the usual signs of revulsion that most women did when they saw his hands. Perhaps it was the Patek Phillipe, he tried to convince himself, but deep down he knew—she called his scars ‘beautiful’.

And then she took his arm, her hand strong, surprisingly calloused, if light, and small.

And from that moment on, Azriel became obsessed with that touch.

His body heated and as he led her to the bar, and showed her around his pride and joy, watching for the subtle reactions, for the gleam of wonder and appreciation in her eyes, he couldn’t release…wouldn’t release her hand from his. She asked questions, took in all the memorabilia and gawked at the cars, and then the guest area, and finally, when he sat her down at the bar and made her a coffee, he stepped closer. Trying not to scare her, or seem obnoxious, he couldn’t help invading her personal space, and stood next to her, pretending to take interest in his drink, while hoping that her arm would brush against his own. Skin to skin.

She didn’t pull away. Didn’t shy away.

He didn’t expect himself to ask her on what amounted to a date, because he wasn’t even sure how dates worked. His usual ammo consisted of a brief introduction, an even quicker seduction and then a hook up. That’s how he liked it. He preferred no-strings-attached approach to his involvement with women, and it’s been working rather well for him. He never had to sleep with anyone in the same bed, he never had to make anyone breakfast, there was no room for idle chitchat, and usually no second or third dates. It was so easy.

This fucking girl, with her caramel-brown eyes, her golden-amber curls, her soft lips and that damn blush on her cheeks—she was driving him veritably insane with her unique mix of immaculate beauty and a friendly, almost naïve, strangely innocent disposition. And he wanted to go on a date with her. Without an ulterior motive, because at it stood right now, he didn’t care to even get her in bed. That would come later. He was absolutely determined to have this happen later. But…later.

Cassian

“Alrighty, I think I am going with the Bentley,” Cassian sidled to the bar, and interrupted.

If Azriel was annoyed, he didn’t show it.

Cassian spied them at last, making his way through the cavernous entrails of the garage, with all its gleaming cars, the beautiful patrons who were discussing options with no-less beautiful sales people,  and even on-premises tattoo shop, which specialized in Azriel’s sketches and catered to those who didn’t have money to actually outfit their Bugatti to their heart’s desire, but could at least claim that they got a Bagarat tattoo inked on their skin.

Elain and Azriel were standing side by side, somehow melding together nicely, her pretty dress and high-heeled sandals and piles of loose hair in drastic contrast with Azriel’s all-black ensemble, his massive height and the span of his shoulders. But she did not balk from him. Cassian also noticed that she didn’t react to the scars, which Azriel was very self-conscious about, and seemed genuinely interested in the garage.

It was inevitable that the two would eventually meet, especially with the wedding coming up and all the wedding related brouhaha. However, Cassian wanted to have the dibs on gloating down the line, and reminding the two of them, forever, about how it was he who introduced them. Yes, Azriel fucked a lot of models and rich girls, for whom he, strangely, was a riff on a ‘bit of rough’, while being hardly ‘rough’ at all. Azriel was elegant and possessed excellent taste in everything, and he probably had the best manners out of the lot of them. But the tattoos, the cars, the aura of brooding mystery about him, and his generally quiet ways were like honey to the throngs of women who lusted after him.  

About Azriel, Cassian had no doubts.

Cassian knew Azriel probably better than anyone alive, and even that wasn’t saying much, but he was very aware of Azriel’s ‘secret type’ of woman. Basically, it was Elain. Everything about Elain Azriel would like—of that Cassian was certain. Elain was the elusive ‘ideal woman’ of whom Azriel dreamt, but never actually pursued. Slightly unconventional, soft, kind, generous—lovely, would be a good word—Elain was everything that Azriel never had with any other women.

Cassian could already see the hunger and flicker of completely besotted adoration in Azriel’s normally cold eyes.

He was less certain about Elain, having never seen her with a boyfriend. When he had asked Nesta about Elain’s situation, Nesta shrugged and said that Elain was beautiful, but naïve, dreamy and rarely dated.

“A Bentley it is then,” Azriel turned around, though his elbow still touched Elain’s arm. “You’ll fit, big boy?”

Elain giggled.

“I am not Rowan,” Cassian muttered. “I am human sized.”

“Only just.”

“You are the same height,” Cassian reminded him coolly.

“I am a little more human-shaped too.”

Cassian rolled his eyes and said, “Come on, petal. While I love to stand here and listen to his insults, we gotta go.”

Elain’s face dropped into a sad frown only for a second, but she recovered immediately. Cassian noticed it, nevertheless. His petal of a girl didn’t want to leave his brother’s side.

“Bye Azriel,” she said, taking his hand in hers again, of her own volition, and squeezing it lightly. “It was very nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he said. His fingers wrapped over her palm, and he said, “I’ll walk you two out.”

So, his brooding brother didn’t want to release the newfound petal of a girl.

How interesting.

Once they were in Cassian’s Jeep, Elain looked out the window, a dreamy look on her face.

“Oh-oh,” Cassian chuckled, as he navigated the narrow NYC streets.

“What?”

“I know that look,” he winked.

“What look?” she frowned.

“The ‘oh gods, Azriel is so handsome!’ look. Oh, he is so gorgeous look. Oh, he is so sexy look.”

“He is handsome,” she agreed blandly, knowing that arguing would be silly.

“I hope that you gave him your number,” he said. “Because if you didn’t, I will.”

“It’s none of your business,” she crossed her arms on her chest, and Cass howled loudly.

“You are welcome, by the way,”

“You are ridiculous,” she muttered. “I don’t know how Nesta tolerates you!”

“Oh, Nes tolerates me and then some,” and winked again.

Now

“My love, slow down a bit,” Elain requested, as the road zigzagged among rows of cypresses.

“I thought that you wanted to make it to Florence before traffic hit?” Azriel squeezed her fingers and brought her hand to his lips.

“Seeing that we are already running late, we might as well enjoy the drive,” she shrugged.

A honey-coloured strand of her hair fell out from under the gauzy wrap that she wore around her head a-la Grace Kelley.

“Good.”

“Good what?” she turned her face to him and knocked him out all over again. By the Mother she was superb in every way, and she was his. He couldn’t believe his absurd luck. Things like these didn’t happen to him. Elain was not meant to be his. Yet, here she was, his lovely gentle girl, who loved him with incomprehensible passion and devotion. His.

The hefty, borderline outlandish ring on her finger was proof of that.

He’d worked hard on that ring, designing it himself, wanting to incorporate everything that he loved about her and about the two of them into the design. The result was this stunner that glittered madly in the Italian sun, sitting on her manicured finger, the skin of her arm kissed by a golden tan.

His beautiful girl loved flowers, and she loved him, so her ring, in its platinum setting was a remarkable rose, reflecting Elain’s green thumb and life’s work. He selected the diamond himself, and the amethysts that comprised the petals, even the tiny onyx inserts, to signify him and the black ink of his tattoos. The ring was both extravagant—especially in carats—but intimate as well, a flower that spoke of his eternal love for this woman.

“I am going to take you somewhere, which I think you’d like,” he teased.

“Where?”

“How does lots of flowers sound?”

She smiled. 

Azriel

For gods’ sake, he was nervous. Azriel was not prone to nervousness or panic or discomfort, but this date, or whatever it was, filled him with dread.

He shouldn’t have asked her.

He was stupid and blinded by her beauty, by her deliciously voluptuous body, by the long, slender legs, by her shy, sweet smile. Those blushes. For the love of everything, those fine, adorable, sexy blushes.

She was part of the family network—both of his brothers were now in love with her sisters. It was cliché and unrealistic and unbelievable that she and he would end up in the same boat. Besides, he wasn’t so lucky as to have someone like her accept him. So, he was making a huge fucking mistake. If this was all going to go sour—which inevitably it would, of that he had no doubt—he’d mess up the delicate balance that existed between the Darling, Bagarat and Cavalhe brothers and the Archeron sisters. She’d reject him and then it would be awkward. Awkward for the upcoming wedding, in which he and Elain were supposed to couple up and be together in the wedding party. Rhys said, ‘fuck it’ and asked both him and Cassian to be best men, while Feyre had both of her sisters as maids-on-honour. There was no escaping it. Therefore, it would be awkward for the wedding, and then for Christmas and all the summer BBQs and pool parties and…well, he might just have to find excuses to never attend anything, ever.

But here he was, standing in front of an old-fashioned, cute corner storefront in the Village. Flower displays spilled on the sidewalk, and the windows, along with the marble edifice reminded him of Paris. This was exactly how he’d picture Elain’ store—slightly whimsical, elegant, classic, but modern. Au Nom de la Rose – The Name of the Rose—perfectly appropriate for Elain’s store name.

She wasn’t waiting for him outside, and he circled the block three times before, by some miracle, finding a parking space and leaving the silver Ferrari, and then made his way back to the store, arriving 4 minutes late, which was completely unacceptable. The store was technically closed at this hour, but he knocked and heard Elain’s voice telling him to come in. Some internal pressure inside of him released at the sound of her voice.

He entered and whistled,

“That’s a lot of flowers!”

Yep, definitely a glamourized 50’s Paris vibe.

“Azriel, I am so sorry, I am not ready,” Elain came from behind the counter, looking a bit frazzled.

“It’s alright I will wait,” he assured her, but she shook her head and said,

“No…I just received a huge order. An emergency order for an anniversary party. Azriel, it’s my biggest order ever!”

“That’s excellent!” he found himself feeling genuinely happy for her, if not for her concerned expression. “What’s up?”

“I…I,” she stumbled. “Feyre or Nesta would usually come and help out if I need them, but Feyre is in LA, and Nesta…” she swallowed, “Nesta is indisposed.”

Nes is on her period and is feeling like crap, read Cassian’s text from earlier today. I am going fishing. Care to join? Or are you busy romancing a certain Archeron sister?

Nesta was indisposed indeed, though Azriel didn’t feel like he needed to know the details.

“It’s a 25th Anniversary, and I have to make 25 bouquets and 15 centerpieces. The couple’s original florist fell through and they contacted me, in a panic, and I agreed,” she babbled, tugging on her long braid nervously. “And it’s for tomorrow,”

“Alright then,” he shrugged, “what’s the problem then? I am here.”

She looked up at him, her gaze both hopeful and confused.

“You? What are you going to do? I am sorry, Azriel, I am so sorry, we’d have to postpone,”

“We’d have to postpone our drive, but I am here. Use me.”

“Use you?”

“Use my body,” he chuckled, and she giggled an amused laugh.

“I appreciate the offer,” and when he thought that she’d continue rejecting his offer of help, she did the right thing and was a smart girl, nodding at last, and said, “will you truly help?”

“I am not a flower expert,”

“I wouldn’t have guessed,” she grinned.

He removed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and said, “Teach me, Archeron. I am an apt pupil.”

He was. Elain showed him model bouquets and thankfully, he wasn’t dumb or clumsy enough to screw them up, once he began copying the originals.

Night fell, and they ordered pizza and he went to get a bottle of wine from the store across the street.

Sitting on the floor of the store, surrounded by piles of flowers, vases, ribbons and twine, they ate pizza, laughing throughout the evening. She stretched her long, bare legs in front of her, crossing them at the ankles, and he couldn’t get enough—the pretty toes, the pale golden skin and the sexy pink nail polish. He didn’t want to seem like a creep, but he snuck more than a few glances at her feet when she wasn’t looking.

It was well past midnight when they were finally done.

He stretched on the floor and tucked his arm behind his head.

She kneeled above him, at his side, and said, “Azriel, thank you. I can’t, honestly, thank you enough. You saved me. Maybe my business too!”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he retorted gently, “but this was fun…and educational.”

“How can I repay you?” she asked.

“Well, well,” he drummed his fingers on the floor, pretending to think. “So many possibilities,”

At that, she flushed, and he licked his lips, loving the sight of that pink on her cheeks.

“Let’s make a bargain,” he proposed at last.

“A bargain?” her brow furrowed.

He nodded.

“For my exceptional assistance during your time of trouble and despair, you will agree to an outing with me, of my choosing. To do whatever I want.”

Elain stared at him, biting her plump lower lip.

“Are we going to do something bad?” she finally asked uncertainly.

He grinned and without thinking, cupped her cheek.

She didn’t recoil.

He drew his thumb over her soft skin and she leaned into his palm just a little bit. Gods it felt good. So good. So good to have her so near, so receptive, so unafraid. But he dropped his hand.

“You think I will take you to knock off a couple of 7-11s?”

“Well, if I am entering this death bargain with you, then who the hell knows?” she shrugged.

He laughed, “Death bargain? A little dramatic, are we?”

She was still sitting there, biting her lip, and all he wanted to do was drag his tongue over it. Kiss her large, brown eyes. Fist his hand around the thick mass of her hair, tilt her head and kiss her until she was breathless.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He never acted like this!

He never thought like this.

He was a rational, controlled, some said, cold man.

Not to say that he wasn’t able to find a woman immediately attractive, or want to fuck her, but this was different. This was unknown.

“Fine,” she shrugged.

“Fine?” he repeated, smiling.

“Don’t make me do anything bad,” she warned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” he promised. “I wouldn’t lead you astray. But,” he sat up, draping his forearms over his knees, “where do you live? Let me take you home,”

“I can take an Uber,”

He gave her an incredulous look and she nodded without further arguments.

“Where do you live?” he asked, once they were outside, somehow internally thrilled that perhaps, she’d invite him inside. He wouldn’t expect anything, obviously, but it would be nice see where she lived, what her private space looked like. So far, he couldn’t pinpoint her style with any accuracy, an interesting mixture of vintage and modern, of flowers and thorns.

“Just two blocks down,” she said, as she locked up the shop.

He gave her his arm, and it seemed like she almost expected it, because she immediately thrust her hand into the loop and he smiled softly.

The little white shorts and the flowery top did things to him, and he was glad to walk side by side, so to prevent himself from staring at her long legs and her neat, lush ass. He was already a mess over her legs, over her bending and squatting in front of him for the past four-five hours.

It was dark and quiet on the street, and they walked in a comfortable silence, each thinking of something of their own.

And then,

Elain sprawled face down on the pavement.

She cried out, landing on her knees on the asphalt, just barely having the time to brace herself on her hand, and ripping the skin of her palm.

Azriel was instantly on his knees in front of her.

Tears glistened in her eyes. Possibly from pain, because as she flipped on her butt, they saw that her knees were torn and bleeding, as was her palm, or maybe from shock, as well as embarrassment.

“Shhh,” he cooed gently to her, “are you okay?”

She shook her head. A lonely tear spilled from her eyes.

“Tissues?” he asked quickly, surveying the damage. Bruises were already blossoming on her scuffed kneecaps, all around the wounds.

She wordlessly handed him her bag, allowing him to rummage through it and he found a packet of old tissues, which he gingerly pressed to her bleeding knees.

“My ankle hurts,” she muttered, reaching down to inspect it.

“Let me,” he took her legs and looked over her ankle. She glared questioningly at him, still in some sort of stupor, not understanding what had occurred, and why she was now sitting on the ground, bleeding.

“You broke your heel,” he nodded to her foot and she glanced down, finally realizing that her heel caught in a crack in the pavement. The impact was so strong, it actually fully detached from the sole of the shoe.

“I am sorry,” she mumbled.

“You should be,” he chuckled, “you gave me quite a scare. I thought you were shot; you went down so quickly!”

She pushed at his arm, half laughing, and have crying.

“Stop making me laugh!” she ordered, sniffling and giggling. “Auuu, it hurts...”

He was lightly pressing on her ankle, and then said, “it’s just twisted. You’ll need ice, but it should be okay…”

“Ok, Doctor Azriel,” she even rolled her eyes slightly and he laughed, flicking her nose.

“I am trained on how to treat combat wounds and catastrophic field injuries, I’ll have you know,” he said and then gave her his hand. “On your feet, soldier! Let me see if you can stand.”

Moaning and groaning, she managed to stand up, but putting any weight on her foot caused a yelp to escape her lips.

“Alright, come on now,” he stepped and opened his arms, “jump in.”

“Jump in where?”

“Jump into my arms, of course.”

“What are you planning to do? Swing me around?”

“I could swing you around, but I was planning on carrying you home, and then making you an ice pack and disinfecting all your cuts.”

Without waiting for her to decide, he scooped her off the ground and she gasped, and he wasn’t sure what the little huff meant.

“But it’s like two blocks!” she protested feebly, and unconvincingly, “I am heavy.”

“Ooohhh,” he groaned dramatically, hefting her to his chest, as they started off. “Sooo, so heavy!”

“I am the fattest of my sisters,” she argued, and even in the darkness he saw that she was blushing realizing how silly her comment was.

“Well, considering that Nesta is like 90 lbs. and Feyre 110 lbs., that’s not saying much,” he assured her.

She was soft and warm in his arms, and when, without prompting, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him, he felt utterly at peace. Because the pieces of them fit. She fit him.

Blood still dripping, and her arms thrown over his neck, Azriel walked steadily, cradling her to his chest, until they finally reached a pre-War building, and she said, “There is no elevator.”

“Don’t tell me you are on the 6th floor!” he laughed, looking up.

“The third.”

“Guess I will have to haul the fattest of the Archeron sisters to the 3rd floor!” he sighed, and she smacked his arm, protesting,

“You can’t say that!”

He was laughing and she began to laugh as well.

“You said it first,” he reminded her.

 Her apartment was small, but she’d arranged the furniture in such a way that everything seemed more spacious, and orderly, without unnecessary frills. Mostly grays, turquoise, cobalt and creamy-white. For some reason, he thought that there would be much more pink and general fluff. This though, this he liked.

He sat her down on the sofa and went to the bathroom to find bandages and plasters and other items. She called out from her spot, telling him where to find things and he finally emerged and began working on all her wounds.

“Haven’t lost a soldier yet,” he told her with a chuckle. He kneeled in front of her, and his touch was firm, but surprisingly gentle, as he thoroughly washed every scuff and tear, and then disinfected and decided what needed bandages and what didn’t.

Elain remained mostly silent throughout the procedure, watching him from under her lashes.

“You are nice,” she said suddenly.

He looked at her and smirked.

“Not with anyone.”

“Everyone just says how handsome you are,” she lay her head on the back cushion, watching him. He gave her a painkiller, and it was making her drowsy. It was also late. She rarely stayed up this late. “But you are also very nice,” she added.

Elain

She woke up that morning, and was struck by the unfamiliar environment. And pain.

Her knees ached and screamed and hurt, as did her palm.

Light poured through the windows; the curtains still open.

She found herself on her sofa, haphazardly covered by a throw, and with her legs resting on Azriel’s lap.

Fuck.

Fuck.

He was here. With her.

He never left after last night’s debacle.

She was a clumsy cow, as always, but the incident was unusually embarrassing, even for her. She always spilled or dropped stuff on herself, tripped, stumbled, and fell on her ass at inopportune times, but last night…By the Mother!

The man was gosh darn saint. Not only did she screw up their evening plans, made him work and make bouquets with her, which, probably wasn’t the most exciting thing for him to spend the evening on, but she also almost ate the pavement, and then he carried her for half a mile! And cared for her when they came here. And spent, what must have been a horribly uncomfortable night in a half-seated position, with her, no doubt, pushing at him with her feet.

Yep, she was never going to see him again.

Good going, Elain. Fine job you did of this ‘relationship’. Now, for the rest of her life, she’d be forced to see him at family gatherings, probably with some stunning model of a wife, and he’d always remember her as the girl who tore her heel on the pavement.

She wanted to cry.

Not that she ever, even for a second, believed that this would go anywhere. Her and Azriel. That wasn’t possible. Things like these didn’t happen to her. She was strange and solitary and even if others claimed that she was pretty, going so far as to call her ‘beautiful’, she never felt like that. When Nesta got mad at her, she’d call her a ‘petty idiot’ and Elain felt like that more frequently than she cared to admit. And Azriel…he was cut from a different cloth. He was…

She looked at his face, still perfect, but ever so slightly relaxed and softened in sleep, his eyelids heavy and enviably long, thick lashes fanned over his golden-brown cheeks. He was funny, with a quick, dry sense of humour, intelligent and interesting, and when they talked last night, she couldn’t get enough! He told her fascinating stories from his time in the Navy, about his dream, which resulted in the creation of his beloved garage. It took him three years to open the place—conceptualize what he wanted, how to deliver it, the items to showcase. The result was not just the ‘garage’, but also the popular bar, and recently, a restaurant as well.

Scarred fingers touched her hand and he opened his eyes.

“Good morning,” he whispered, squinting at her. “How are you? How’s the pain?”

“Azriel,” she murmured, not even knowing how to thank him, but she attempted, “I want to,”

“Pancakes?” he asked eagerly.

She glanced at him with incomprehension.

“May I make you, or us, pancakes?” he proposed. “I’ve been sort of thinking about this all night. How I’d like to make you pancakes,”

“I want to thank,”

He lifted his finger and shook his head,

“No, no. My Italian mother would tell you that you should never thank anyone for providing medical help,”

“Why?”

“According to my psychotically superstitious Italian side of the family, the remedy or healing won’t take, if you offer thanks. Imagine, I was forbidden from ever saying ‘thank you’ to a doctor,”

She chuckled.

“So, you are Italian?”

“Mom’s side is half Neapolitan and half from Lazio—near Rome.”

He sat up and rolled his neck.

“Can I at least say that I am sorry that you had to be so uncomfortable and sleep on the couch?” she asked.

“It’s alright. Not the best night I’ve ever had, but not the worst one either. The company was nice too,” and he patted her legs.

A tiny flare of hope lit in her belly.

But she didn’t allow herself to have it take root.

Maybe not until he gathered her legs together on his lap and drew his fingers up and down her calf.

“But really, how is the pain?” he asked at last, watching her with his intense, warm eyes. The eyes didn’t warm frequently, it seemed, but when they looked at her—

He was different somehow.

Kind. Approachable.

“It’s fine,” she waved her hand, not wanting to burden him any longer with her dumb injuries.

Those long, scarred fingers glided over her skin, and a small smirk touched his lips, “May I kiss it better?”

She blinked at him.

“I hear that I am very good at making pain go away,” he added proudly, and then, his lips descended on her scuffed and bruised knees. She kissed each one, tenderly, and then took her hand and brought it to his lips, and pressed his mouth to the inside of her palm. Her breath hitched and she stared at him, wide-eyed, as he watched her, unblinking, gaging every minute reaction. He kissed her hand, inside and then out, and then kissed the other, even though it wasn’t injured, and then returned to her knees and kissed them again.

At last, “Better?” he asked.

She only mooed incoherently.

…Azriel, by the stove, flipping pancakes was the sexiest thing Elain had ever seen in her life.

Clad in dark slacks, in his white shirt from last night, with sleeves rolled up and the tattoo sleeves on full display, he stood in her kitchen, barefoot and flipped pancakes like a pro.

“You cook too?” she asked incredulously.

He laughed.

“Too? In addition to what?”

“I don’t know,” she was still perched on the sofa, like an invalid, but after she washed her face and brushed her hair, he ordered her to sit and not make unnecessary moves. “Everything?”

“My repertoire is limited, when it comes to the kitchen, but what I know how to make, I make well. Cassian is a better cook.”

“Cass?” she smiled.

“Nesta is lucky to have him,” Azriel added, somewhat wistfully.

Elain looked at him and nodded. “I think so too.”

“He is a good man. Maybe the best man I’ve ever known. Where my own family failed, he stepped in, though he is a year younger than me. But he taught me…how to be. Accepted me. Unconditionally. Taught me how to swim, how to ride a bike, how to fight.”

“And you?”

“I? I helped him with his reading,” Azriel rubbed his chin, his stance a little tense.

She didn’t say anything, waiting to see if he felt like sharing more.

“It was neglected,” he said at last. “His reading and writing. So, we sat together, late at night, at our foster parents’ house and read.”

He then asked, “coffee?”

The moment of reminiscing was over, and Elain did not press.

She nodded to one of the cupboards and he pulled out a tub of coffee and grimaced.

“This is what you drink?”

“Hey, it’s good coffee! I buy it at Trader Joe’s!” she laughed defensively.

“Baby, we are drinking Italian coffee in this house,” he decided, and there was no arguing with that logic.

 That’s how Elain became Azriel’s ‘baby’.

In their house, they always drank Italian coffee.

 Twenty minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

“Thanks Nu,” Azriel greeted a lanky, very thin, very tall girl, who handed him two packages and then winked at him and disappeared wordlessly.

“My assistant, Nuala,” he explained, showing Elain two packages of Lavazza coffee. “This will do for now.”

Elain hobbled to the small butcher block island that she’d restored from a console that she found at a flea market. “You text someone and they just appear?”

He grinned and shrugged innocently.

“I know a guy.”

“Of course you do. Are you in the mafia?”

“First of all, rude,” he placed a plate of chocolate chip pancakes in front of her and then poured her coffee, “second of all, I just know a guy.”

“Who knows where to buy Lavazza on a Saturday morning?” she wondered, tucking into the pancakes.

“I have a network of spies,” he winked at her.

She sipped on the coffee, perhaps not as good a cup as he’d made her at his garage, but glorious nevertheless. “Are you in the CIA?”

“Not in the mafia or the CIA. Just a lowly car guy.”

“Uh-uh.”

They toasted with their coffee cups and Azriel said, “not bad for a first date. Blood and flowers. Very romantic.”

It was that morning, that sunny Saturday morning, over a plate of pancakes and some Italian coffee that Elain Archeron fell in love.

She fell in love completely.

Utterly.

Irreversibly.

And forever.

Now

Azriel turned off to some side road and how he knew where to go, Elain had no idea, but she just enjoyed the scents and warmth of the day.

“You know,” she laughed. “We are literally under the Tuscan sun right now!”

“All your dreams are coming true,” he ran a loving hand over her bare arm and she tore her gaze from the scenery around her.

“My dreams came true when I met you,” she confessed. “That was the day.”

“So easily impressed!” he teased, but she saw that her words touched something in him. His face softened with happiness.

“Az, slow down,” she whispered, an almost painful pull to kiss him spreading over her. “I want to kiss you.”

He looked at her, eyes hidden behind his Aviator shades, but slowed down and she leaned towards him and planted her mouth on his cheek.

“Lips,” she murmured with audible desperation.

“Baby, I don’t want to bust up this nice Ferrari,” he laughed. “And you, who is riding in it.”

Pouting, she ordered, “Then pull over so I can kiss you!”

He laughed louder, throwing his head back, his gorgeous tanned neck annoyingly desirable.

She wanted to bite his vein, lick the salty skin of his neck, and then sink her teeth into his shoulder. Elain was a biter. And a scratcher. Good thing that Azriel was a benevolent lover, who didn’t care if she left his body marked with her love, and didn’t mind the pain. In fact, he encouraged it.

His heavy brown hand lay on her knee, under the hem of her summer dress and he said,

“Why don’t I do something nice for you… then you can kiss me…”

“But I want to kiss you now,” she frowned playfully.

His hand slid a little higher, up her bare thigh, and he pressed his scarred palm into her thin, tender skin, rubbing slowly, indulgently. This was just as much for her as it was for him.

She threw her head into the back of the seat, eyes closed.

Until she yelped softly, when his wicked hand slipped higher and higher, pushing her dress up as well.

“Azriel Bagarat,” she murmured, “what am I going to do with you? And your love for public nudity and lovemaking…”

He shrugged oh so innocently and said, “firstly, it’s Archeron to you, and,”

“Not just yet,” she wiggled her ring-clad hand in front of him, “not until we got the paper and all, to make us official,”

They rolled their eyes at the same time and then laughed.

“And secondly, who can blame me?” he leaned and kissed her shoulder. “You are very hot. And I sort of want to fuck you all the time.”

His long, very experienced fingers made their way even higher, until he drew them along the cotton of her underwear, lightly pressing into the cleft, teasing ever so lightly. She shifted against the fingertips, her thighs falling apart in silent encouragement.

Elain was a giving and a receptive lover, innately knowing what he wanted and accommodating both of their needs thoughtfully, and easily.

“What do you want, baby?” he murmured.

“To kiss you,” she insisted stubbornly.

He huffed his amusement, and then pushed his finger deeper, firmer against the cotton, whispering,

“How about this?”

“This is nice, I suppose,”

“Only nice?” he withdrew his finger in warning and she grabbed his wrist, and thrust it back in place.

“Maybe a little better than ‘nice’, huh?” he teased.

“A little,” she agreed, gasping when he cupped her fully, swiping his heel of his palm against the length of her folds, feeling the dampness against his skin. Bold, as he always was, he moved the strip of cotton to the side, and hiked up her dress ever higher, exposing her to his exploration.

He snuck a glance at her perfectly peachy, pink pussy, bare and succulent, like a ripe fruit dripping with its sweet juices.

He groaned and then hissed, “I am stopping, right now. I want you coming on my tongue in the next four minutes,”

“So confident, ombre?”

She took to calling him ombre or ‘shadow’, when, early in their relationship, he kept materializing in front of her out of nowhere, stepping out of the shadows. He laughed, but didn’t mind the endearment. What’s more, it became a private thing between the two of them—he’d call her ‘rose’ and she’d call him ‘ombre’. It wasn’t nauseatingly sugary sweet and could be used in public without making people gag. Unlike, for example, the Darlings, who, for whatever reason called each other ‘my darkness’. Or Cassian, who sometimes went with ‘schmoopie’, braving Nesta’s wrath.

Azriel laughed, while incessantly dragging his finger back and forth over the wet slit, without doing much else, and making her gasp and squirm.

“That I can make you come on my tongue in 4 minutes? Fuck yeah! Want me to prove it?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” she shook her head, “you don’t get to just do whatever the hell you want, when you want it. If I don’t get my kiss, you don’t get to,”

“What? Lick your pussy? I feel like the punishment is unreasonable,” he protested.

She gave him a sultry look, a look that only he was privy to, and then murmured, spreading her legs a little wider for him,

“Maybe I want to lick something of yours?” she proposed, her voice husky, pouring like honey over his ear.

“I wouldn’t be opposed,” he choked out, finally parting the soft cushions of her folds and dragging his knuckles over the wet spread of her. The intoxicating scent of her arousal, mixed with the Italian sunshine and the smell of grass, flowers and cypresses was so heady, he almost swerved, stopping only quick enough to grip the steering wheel tightly in his left hand.

Gods, if he was going to make it to their next destination, he would be impressed with himself. But it was close.

Azriel

Elain loved getting fingered. That was the first thing he learned about her sexually—kissing and fingering.

In the privacy of their world, he fingered her constantly.

It was almost an obligation on his part by now, to have her wake up, tucked into his side, while gently, but thoroughly pumping her soft, indescribably tight center. No matter how many times he’d been inside of her, she remained tight, as tight as the first time. That was a blessing, but a curse as well, for all he could typically think about throughout the day, was sinking into that glorious tightness.

When she was finally semi-awake, she rolled on her back and spread her legs in front of him, so he could finger her in earnest. Two fingers first, nice and deep inside of her, as he knelt in front of her and watched her come undone before him. And then, there was always a moment when her eyes flew open, and her back arched, and he slipped the third one in. The plush, warm walls of her sex stretched and pulled to accommodate him, but he went slow and deep, only grazing the sensitive spot in her, making her moan low and begging, the pressure of his hand steady and firm.

She cried and cried into the pillow, head thrown back in utter extasy, her hair a tangled halo about her. She wasn’t permitted to move her hips, his only order in that early-morning game of theirs, therefore she was wholly dependent on him for her pleasure. If she ever did begin a sensual undulation of her hips around his hand, he’d allow her to continue for a few moments, aware that she was lost in her own pleasure, before cruelly yanking his hand out of her.

“Was my girl allowed to do that?” he’d ask simply, and amidst her disappointed panting, her pleading for more, her sweet, innocent “sorry. I am sorry,” she’d beg him to fill her again.

Then she’d lay still, eyes wide and pleading, her little opening vibrating at the loss, before he placed her feet on his shoulders and thrust in her anew. This time, his scarred, rough, brown, inked fingers disappeared in her completely. She buckled and let out a wild moan that reverberated from the very depth of her, because all four fingers were inside, and his thumb finally, finally began a gorgeously slow torment around her clit. She just lay there, tense and unmoving, watching him, the slurping, obscene sounds of his hand inside of her filling the sleepy morning air around them.

Elain came quietly. She moaned and twisted and gasped as he rubbed her clit, but when the waves finally descended upon her, when he felt the tight, silky flesh grip and pump all four of his fingers, which were now pressing up into her perfect spot, the exhale was soft and intimate. Only for him.

Now

“Don’t wreck the car,” Elain muttered, eyes barely open.

“Will this be the second one?” Azriel asked, while Elain wrapped her hand around his wrist and forcefully jammed his hand inside of her.

Four.

Four orgasms daily. That was his promise.

He’d provide her with at least four daily orgasms. So far, he typically exceeded expectations. It wasn’t particularly difficult, because he often played with her at odd times—when they were watching TV, he’d slip a finger onto her clitty and rub her slowly and leisurely, until she melted from the stimulation. She enjoyed it when he bent her over counters or sinks, and sunk his fingers deep and hard into her perpetually ready hole.

Elain, to his complete delight and fascination, was always just a bit aroused. Always, always just a bit wet, just a little damp for him. He’d make an unscheduled stop at her shop and if it was empty, he’d step behind the counter with her, and soon, she’d be splayed over the counter, his hand between her legs. Yes, they’ve been almost caught plenty of times, but Azriel had the ability to disappear into shadows as soon as he sensed someone coming. Sometimes, when someone would walk in the store, Azriel even pretended that he was a customer, buying flowers, watching her patiently, while she got his bouquet ready for him. Never mind that his hand might have been soaked with her slick, or that he smirked, watching her press her thighs together, while she wrapped the flowers, as she avoided eye contact with him, and handed him the bouquet which he’d inevitably bring home for her.

When he was around her, she jokingly complained that she was of constant need for him, and it was his very enviable and pleasant task to soothe the ache inside of her.

 Azriel

Their friends, family, found their relationship perplexing. But Elain kept her sisters firmly at an arm’s length when it came to the discussion of their sex life. No matter how they tried to pry, she gently, but firmly rebuffed them. Nesta complained and said that they were too obsessed with each other. That Elain was too in love and that Azriel was too dependent on Elain’s love for this to be normal. Elain only shrugged and didn’t argue.

 “It’s not normal!” seethed Nesta, watching Elain and Azriel wrapped around each other on the dance floor, Elain’s body shimmying and swaying around her, arms raised in the air, her hips swooshing to the beat, bumping into his pelvis.

“You think they are gonna do it right on the dancefloor?” Cassian contemplated quietly, not sure if this was outside the realm of possibilities.

“He would!” she spat and gulped down her Aperol spritz aggressively. “I am surprised he is not bending her over…more surprised she isn’t agreeing!”

“They never argue,” Cassian nodded.

“They never—never—argue. It’s not normal!”

The way Cassian saw it, as long as the two were happy, he had no right to judge.

Nesta was a hot pepper. Feyre, an apple—solid, tasty, dependable. Elain—whipped cream—a delicious topping over anything, but especially Azriel.

 Nevertheless, the word got around.

One day, Azriel, Rowan and Cassian were sitting in Elain’s flower shop, toiling diligently over a huge order of flowers.

They wouldn’t admit it to anyone, not to each other, or their women, but they quite enjoyed hiding in that flower shop and arranging flowers. They claimed that they were doing it for Elain’s sake, to help her out, so she didn’t have to hire additional help just yet, but,

Well, they liked it.

At first, Elain wasn’t sure if Cassian was cut out for the task, because the very first try was a little rough.

“Cass, these are not your enemies that you are about to smite,” Elain instructed gently, prying his fingers from the stems of irises, which he was clutching like he was about to throw a lance.

“Pfff, you look like you are about to choke a chicken,” Nesta teased. And promptly realised her mistake, biting her lip.

Cassian cocked his brow and murmured seductively,

“What chicken am I choking, sweetheart? My own,”

“Oh no,” Elain stepped in between them, hands on her hips. “No. No. No. Absolutely not.”

“Lainey, don’t allow Cass to choke his chicken in front of us,” begged Azriel, working quickly and deftly, and soliciting an envious look from Cassian, whose flowers were in complete disarray, compared to Azriel’s neat piles and methodical assembly line.

“Yes, no one is choking chickens, penises or each other in here,” ordered Elain sternly, while Nesta and Azriel were laughing silently.

“Hehe,” smirked Cassian, “Elain said ‘penis’!”

“Take your dirty talk and deeds,”

Dirty deeds done dirt cheap, dirty deeds done dirt cheap

Cassian began rocking to his own singing, imitating the gravel of Brian Johnson’s voice rather successfully, headbanging over his babybreath, bluebells and irises.

Chicken choking forgotten for a moment.

 As Cassian fussed over a vase, working on each stem and arranging them just so, wearing a little white apron no less, he asked casually, “So, brother, four?”

Azriel was in his own headspace, and he didn’t even hear Cassian, as he was busy with his own flower arrangement.

There was, expectedly, a competition going on—who’d complete the most arrangements in an hour. Rowan, a veritable giant, and Cassian’s best friend, also wore an apron, but a long one, like a butcher, and was significantly ahead of the pack. That bothered Azriel more than he cared to admit. So, he was re-strategizing his strategy.

“Four what?” Rowan inquired, not taking his eyes off the flowers, working like a machine.

“Ask Az here,” Cassian suggested. He was catching up to Azriel with an alarming speed.

Azriel had never lost, so far. He wasn’t going to lose today.

“Stop speaking in riddles. What are you talking about?”

“Word on the street is that our Az here provides the flower girl with a minimum of four orgasms on the daily,”

Azriel started and finally tore his eyes from the flowers.

Both Rowan and Cassian were watching him, smirking.

“I guess it’s true then,”

“Fuck off.”

“If that’s true,” Rowan drawled, “good for you, man. Though you are putting us to shame with this ridiculous offer of yours. How do you keep up?”

“Easily,” Azriel shrugged. “But it’s freaking me out that you two are talking about my sex life so casually.”

“But fucking four? Daily?” repeated Cassian, shaking his head.

“Yeah, Elain, man,” Rowan rubbed the back of his head, mussing his silver hair, “who would’ve thought?”

Cassian nodded, “No offense, brother, but Elain doesn’t strike anyone as particularly adventurous in the bedroom,”

“And that’s where you’d be wrong,” Azriel said simply.

“Very beautiful,” offered Rowan pacifically, “but…you know…Kind of like Elide, I guess. You wouldn’t know it, looking at her,”

Cassian was nodding. “Yeah, she looks like she eats macaroons and reads Jane Austen,”

“Macarons,” said Azriel.

“What?”

“It’s macaron. Not macaroon.”

“What the hell is the difference?”

“One is a French biscuit, made with almond flour and filled with a creamy filling. The other, is a coconut concoction that one usually eats at Passover.”

Rowan was chuckling. Cassian was shaking his head, grunting, “you would know. So, does she? Eat maca--,”

“No, she doesn’t even like macarons. And she doesn’t read Jane Austen. She reads espionage novels. She likes Daniel Silva. Any more stupid questions?”

Elide. Of course. He should’ve guessed.

Elain and Elide met through Rowan and it was friendship at first sight.

Azriel couldn’t argue—the two women were similar in many ways. Both were on a quiet side, polite, well-mannered. Elain—a ray of sunshine, tall, slender and curvaceous, smiling and affable, with piles of golden-brown locks and warm brown eyes. Elide—the opposite—small, pale, with perfectly straight, silky black hair and dark, midnight eyes. Both—crafty in the ways of the world, charming, when needed, capable of getting into everyone’s good graces, and therefore, getting what they wanted.

“No, no more stupid questions,” said Cassian. “Just don’t know how you two grumps attracted such lively girls,”

“Lorcan and I aren’t ‘grumps’. We just talk when we need to and don’t have the need for instant gratification or to be the center of attention. Something I can’t say about you,”

“It’s not about me,” Cassian protested, but Azriel stopped him, by raising his finger,

 “Now, if you are not going to shut the fuck up about my woman and me, I will spread a rumour amongst your women, that it’s not four, but six. Daily. Let’s see how you measure up then.”

Silence fell.

Azriel won.

His 36th win.

 Now

 “Yes, the second,” Elain nodded with a satisfied smile.

 Azriel

 Naturally, today, he woke her up properly, as he always did.

They stayed in an adorable little villa, near Montepulciano. It was everything a Tuscan villa was supposed to be…

including the dust that settled in its 800-year-old walls. And Elain coughed and coughed and coughed, surprisingly not coughing up a lung.

“We can’t stay here,” Azriel said, frowning.

“Where are going to go? We are in the middle of Tuscany and it’s 10 pm,” she reminded him.

Ever resourceful, he dragged the mattress off the antique bed and plopped it down on the floor of their small balcony.

“We sleep here. Under the night Tuscan sky.”

It was a lovely, if chilly night, and Elain would’ve enjoyed it if she didn’t fall asleep almost immediately and slept through the night.

She was still asleep, when the birds began their morning song and Azriel positioned her on her hands and knees, and carefully removed her nightgown, baring her to the dry, cool morning air.

“Someone will see us,” she murmured sleepily.

She tucked her hands under her cheek, and followed the direction of Azriel’s hand on her hip, rising her butt high up, and arching her back for him.

Azriel loved having sex out in the open. Especially if she was completely naked. He wasn’t overt about it, but the thrill of being found out, the titillating desire to be watched was always present. She knew it. She indulged his fantasies.

“I don’t think anyone would mind watching you,” he whispered hotly in her ear and lightly bit the apple of her cheek. “But it’s also like 4:15 in the morning. So maybe they are still sleeping.”

He settled behind her and she felt his hands on her back, smoothing over the sharp cut of her tight waist and then the soft curve of her hips.

“Spread your legs for me, my love, I want to play with you a little bit,” he guided her, and she followed his direction, squatting inelegantly on her knees, thighs wide apart for him. He cupped her fully in his palm and then pinched her clit, hard, twisting it and rubbing it between his two fingers, until she bit her forearm, trying to stifle her cries of instant pleasure.  He pinched again, then again, rubbing tightly, while he bit her buttock playfully, but hard enough to leave a pink mark.

“Mmmm,” she groaned, when he nibbled on her flesh again, tugging on the swollen clit with relentless dedication. She managed to twist enough to kiss his knee and whispered, eyes still closed, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, my beautiful girl,” he leaned forward and kissed her wet, stretched opening, dragging his tongue around and around the rim, “and you are so nice and wet for me in the morning. My good girl, what do you want?”

“Only you,” she vowed. “Only you, my Az.”

“Let’s fill your pretty little hole then,” he licked on it again, and then slid one strong, long finger inside. As he began to pump her slowly, he proposed, “When I fill you with my cock later on,”

“Uh oh,” she moaned dreamily, smiling a loving smile, enjoying his finger to the fullest.

“I think I’d like to add a finger or two as well. What do you think?”

“I’d like that, I think,” she complied easily.

Elain was not a particularly imaginative lover, but Azriel was the opposite—he had too much imagination when it came to everything. Especially Elain, and what he liked to do with her sexually. What was absolutely fantastic, and he thanked all the gods for this phenomenon, was that Elain was willing to try anything. She was an absolutely willing and eager lover, who learned from him and learned of her body with readiness and joy. He dominated her completely, but that was the nature of their relationship, and they easily fell into their roles, from the very beginning. She was submissive, loved praise, and loved being guided and told what to do. More than anything else, she loved pleasing him. There was never any pull and push, no competition, no power struggles. Elain was made for him, created and carved from something that was innately his, whether it was his body or his mind, and they lived and loved harmoniously. He complimented her perfectly: her temperament, her needs, her wants. He treated her with admiration, gentleness, adoration and respect, and while his own expectations were high, she met them all with ease. She took control when she needed to. Received what she wanted from him, however she needed to. And he gave and gave.

Some, or many, called them soulmates.

Perhaps that’s what they were. Or maybe, they were even more than that.

Azriel stretched his legs on either side of her curved body and then added another finger inside of her sopping, slippery opening, reaching deep into her and pumping her firmly.

“Auuuu, babe, it’s good…” she squealed, “it’s so good.”

Unable to wait any longer, he pulled her buttocks apart with his available hand and swept his tongue over the tiny opening, causing her to seize with surprise and pleasure. Instinctively, she moved her hips against his tongue, pushing her backside into his lips. He licked the little hole in earnest, dragging his tongue back and forth between both of her openings, making her tremble and shudder every time his tongue reached one or the other.

As he sat to the task of licking and sucking her tight hole, he thrust a third finger into her dripping passage, feeling her shift against his face to accommodate the stretch. It was a lot, and she whimpered and moaned from the pressure, but he knew that she could take four, though he wasn’t in a hurry, and worked her diligently and steadily, his tongue laving the other hole just as eagerly.

She was shaking between his legs, her toes curling beneath her, rapid pants escaping into the morning mists, her hair draping the tiled floor in front of her, even spilling through the balcony rails.

Somewhere they heard sheep bleating and Elain laughed softly, before arching her back even further, not caring how splayed she looked. There wasn’t a part of her that he hasn’t seen, hasn’t touched or licked or kissed, not an inch of her that wasn’t caressed by his rough hands, not an orifice that he hasn’t penetrated with his magnificent cock. He’d burrowed inside of her so deeply, so wholly, he possessed all of her and she knew what it’s like to truly be part of another person, to be loved with egregious passion.

He fed another finger inside of her and she cried out, trembling and grunting, as she grabbed and squeezed his foot with mighty strength.

He tore his lips away from her bottom and grinned,

“Love, when you are in labour with our baby, I am fully prepared for the fact that you will break my fingers, maybe even my hand.”

“I am sorry,” she laughed, and kissed his foot, dragging her tongue over his toes.

There wasn’t a part of him that she did not love, did not worship with everything she had. No part of his body remained un-kissed, un-touched, un-caressed. A lazy Sunday, especially if the weather was crap and they had no plans to go out, was her favourite time—she could spend the day loving her Azriel. On those days, she pleasured him. And if she spent hours with his cock buried in her throat, or his balls between her lips, or her tongue in his ass, she was only too happy.

The tips of his fingers crawled into that hidden spot inside of her, curling just so, so he could massage and rub her into a frenzy. He stilled for a moment, to allow her to adjust to the fullness and the stretch, as she bit his foot, trying to stifle her screams. She leaked slowly over his hand, as most of it was situated in her clutching, hungry tightness.

“Very good, my baby,” he praised, kissing her buttocks and then giving her anus a few approving licks, “taking all four inside of you,”

“Oh my god, oh,” she groaned, “it’s so tight…Az, my love, I am so full,”

“I know, love,” he coaxed evenly, his hand beginning a steady, firm barrage of deep, pounding thrusts, “but it’s nice, isn’t it?”

“Yeess,” she only managed, voice thin, pleading. She could barely hold herself up, so he wrapped his arm around her hips, keeping her ass up. She grabbed the balcony wrought-iron spindles, squeezing them tightly, forehead pressed into the mattress, as he pumped her harshly, keeping her on the verge of constant climax, but pulling back just so, for her to moan and beg him in a never ending litany.

“Baby, you want to come?” he teased, still busy with her butthole, which softened under his furious sucking and if they had more time and privacy, Elain would be ready to take him anally soon enough.

“Yes,” she grunted, “yes,”

“Ask nicely, and maybe,”

“Ugh, you are such a horrible tease,” she complained, biting his foot in spite, and he laughed, before slapping her firm, soft buttock.

“Biting a person who is making you come so nicely?” he slapped her again, and she yelped with pleasure, wiggling her ass, silently asking for more.

The walls of her passage clenched desperately over his fingers, and she made a choking, frantic sound in her chest, now beyond pleading or even moaning. He sucked, and slapped, and bit, and thrust, pumping her open, the sounds of the wet and the skin inside of her completely obscene, and music to both of their ears.

Azriel noticed a man, either a delivery guy or a grounds keeper, watching them wide eyed and shocked from a distance. Probably not something he expected to see at 4:40 in the morning. Not that he made a move to leave.

Azriel opted not to alarm Elain, who was coming violently on his hand, her body trembling and jerking, her beautiful, quiet orgasm sweeping everything in its path. His girl deserved a proper wake up, deserved and needed her climaxes, and deserved to be watched, because she was so beautiful. Her teeth and tongue clamped tightly on his foot, his toes, as she bit and licked, completely undone, turned inside out by his expert hand.

He still worked her hand in her, his thrusts shallow and not as strong, when she collapsed on the mattress at last, eyes closed, panting.

He smiled and finally slipped on the mattress alongside her, though he kept a finger between her folds, rubbing soothingly. She’d bite his head off if he removed his hand from her this quickly.

“Good morning my love,” he whispered at last, kissing her cheek.

“Mmmm, good morning,” she sighed with satiated pleasure.

“Some guy caught an eyeful,” he whispered, but she only snuggled to his chest.

“I don’t care…As long as you were watching me, that’s all that matters.”

“I wouldn’t mind sliding into your little bum right now,” he confessed, stroking her hip and her curvy backside.

“Do you want to take me?” she offered sweetly, eyes fluttering open.

He kissed her head and smiled, “So tempting, but not here and not now. Let’s jump in the shower and then be on our way. We’ve got a decent amount of driving to do today.”

She nodded.

“Did I tell you that I love you?” she stroked his cheek, the sharp, angular cut of it, the dark bronze skin.

“You did, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”

“I love you, Azriel.”

“I love you, Elain.”

 Elain

Their day was long.

They had their cappuccino and cornetti at some café on the road.

Their trip had a purpose—they were actually driving to Maranello, to the Ferrari headquarters where Azriel had 3 days of business meetings.

When Az told her that he was thinking of going to Italy, it was no brainer to say ‘yes’.

It was the first time she was going to leave her business, her shop, for an extended period of time, but Feyre promised to oversee the operations, while Cerridwen, whom Elain recently hired as a full-time employee and who was Nuala’s sister, was going to be responsible for the day-to-day.

The last time Elain’s been to Italy was when she was barely 10 years old. A few years before everything’s went to shit. Back then, her father completed a very lucrative business deal and there was a lot of disposable cash, so the family decided to take a grand trip to Italy.

Little Feyre who was only seven screeched and begged to go to Disneyland, while Nesta and their mother voted for Italy. No one asked Elain, assuming that she’d go wherever she was told.

The trip was extensive, almost four weeks, and they hit all the glamorous Southern parts—the Amalfi coast, with their headquarters in a rented villa near Positano. Then they went to Portofino, and their father rented a yacht for a few days, the trip culminating in Capri. It was a whirlwind on sun and the sea, of lemons, eating grilled squid, at which Feyre stared in horror, though she liked the taste, amazing fruit, endless pastries and gelato. Even their mother yanking a few pastries away from Elain, hissing that she ‘grow fat and not find a husband’ didn’t mar the experience. Elain, always the plumper of the sisters, was used to the warning by then.

 This time around, Elain could eat as much pastry as she wanted.

They landed in Rome, spent four days there, since she insisted on going to the Vatican Museum twice, hear Mass at St. Peter’s, and she didn’t know if she annoyed Azriel with her endless excitement and tales of art, artists, and biblical stories, but she couldn’t help herself.

She was an Art History major in NYU, receiving a full scholarship to attend. She loved it. Didn’t like college all that much as a whole, but loves studying. When everyone was partying, drinking, fucking and skipping classes, she went to the Met and to MOMA and learned and enjoyed herself. She loved history of religion, of other cultures and though not at all religious herself, none of them were, her knowledge on the subject was thorough.

Azriel, it seemed, liked her passion, her excitement, and listened attentively when she went on long explanation of what this or that Saint did and what grizzly death they’d suffered. And what was the significance of the painting or sculpture of the said Saint. Obviously, he was very artistically inclined as well, though his preference lay in design and industrial art, but he enjoyed listening and discussing. They spent hours and hours meandering the halls of the museum, and of the cathedral, and both spent a good half an hour in front of the Pieta, staring in silence and quiet contemplation at the sculpture, holding hands.

It was when they were sitting at a café, sipping some bitter Campari cocktails and watched the sprawling vistas of Rome that Azriel confided to her. Told her of his childhood. She knew some of the details, but he never talked about his childhood, and she opted not to pressure him. It was clear enough that it was horrific in many ways, and bringing up all those memories didn’t make sense to Elain.

Told her how his father, who was rich and vicious, won custody of him from his mother, not because he wanted his son, but out of spite, to torment the mother. And then it was years of solitude and loneliness and emotional and physical abuse. Azriel’s only reprieve was drawing, making designs, sometimes with chalk on the pavement, sometimes on scraps of paper. His stepmother threw everything out as soon as he made it. He languished in his father’s world for 8 years, until a catastrophic event took place—his stepbrothers doused him, his hands, in gasoline and lit him up. They didn’t call the paramedics either, and simply stood there, watching, as he burned. Finally, the neighbors heard his screams and police and ambulance came at last.

Because he was young, he recovered most of the sensations and feeling in his hands, but the skin was permanently scarred and his father refused skin grafts.

He’d met Cassian at the hospital, who came there having been beaten so badly by his foster father, that he had a concussion, broken ribs and a punctured eye socket.

Mrs. Darling, Rhys’s mother, who was one of the biggest benefactors of the children’s hospital where they were recovering, heard their stories and thankfully, her wealth opened every door. Her influence and wealth were no match for Azriel’s father. Hence when she decided that she wanted to adopt the two boys, little could be done to dissuade her. Azriel and Cassian still spent some time in foster care, while the documents were being processed and all the formalities legalized, but at the end, they ended up with the Darlings, as their adopted sons.

Elain wanted to cry for him, for his destroyed childhood, for his tormented youth, for his injuries, for the lack of love in his life. For his sake, though, she didn’t.

Sensing that he needed her support, she didn’t release his hand for the remainder of the day.

And she told him how much she loved him and how happy he made her.

 They left Montepulciano, and then drove for a few hours and stopped at Orvieto, and explored its unnecessary enormous Duomo, which was situated on the hill, amidst the Umbrian lushness. The tiny town did offer spectacular views and great wine, which they enjoyed with lunch.

 Now

Azriel worked his fingers into the supple warmth of her damp pussy and looked down, before ordering, “wider, Lainey”.

She spread her legs wider, her knit dress folded haphazardly over the belly.

“Wider,” he said and she placed one foot on the seat, exposing herself completely to him.

It was never wide enough for him, for he liked to see everything, liked to spread and open and pull her wide apart for his eyes, for his exploration.

He pressed his thumb to her plump pink clit and began to rub.

She whined impatiently and he smiled,

“We are almost there…”

“I need you,” she moaned, kissing his shoulder through his shirt.

“I need you too, my beauty,” he nodded, “but I think once we get there, you’ll forget all about me.”

She tsked and announced, “I don’t know if anything will impress me as much as your cock in my mouth,”

He started at the blunt words, her amused grin and then burst out laughing.

“Naughty.”

In a few minutes, he rounded a small green hill and Elain’s breath caught in her throat.

“Oh, gods…Az…”

He was smiling.

He’d never been here before, but he’d done his research, finally finding the right spot.

A tiny hidden valley, nestled between a few rolling Tuscan hills, with a small turquoise lake sparkling in the late afternoon sun. In the distance, a mandatory Tuscan villa.

And poppies. Fields of poppies, stretching as far as the eye can see. A blanket of ruby-red poppies, gently swaying in the pine-scented air.

This place was a damn Walmart painting come true, and Azriel loved it for its kitsch, its predictability.

“It’s gorgeous!” she gasped. Then chuckled, adding, “Like one of those mass-produced paintings,”

At that, Azriel roared with laughter, killed the engine and they got out of the car.

“My thoughts exactly!” he nodded vigorously.

She ran into the poppies, brushing her palm over the petals, “But it’s worth it! No painting can ever do this justice! Az…it’s so beautiful!” she twirled in the field of red, her white dress a stark contrast to the vibrancy of the colours around her—the cobalt of the cloudless sky, the emerald green of the hills, the blood-red of the poppies.

He folded his arms and said, “I am glad you like it.”

“Like it? I love it!”

She inspected all the wildflowers that bloomed among the poppies, picking a few purple ones and a daisy and tucking them behind her ear. Another daisy she brought to him and tucked it into his hair.

“There is a blanket in the trunk,” he jerked his head towards the car, and unbuttoned his shirt almost to the navel, “if you want to picnic,”

“I want to picnic!” she squealed and ran to the car to get what she needed.

Soon there was a blanket on the grass and a few bottles of wine in a basket.

He slid down, stretching on the blanket, toeing off his shoes, rolling his shoulders. This was nice. He also relished her happiness, how her high ponytail bounced about as she ran through the field barefoot, and then began twirling, arms outstretched and singing loudly,

The hills are alive with the sound of

Griswold, he helped out.

“Are you coming here?” he called out, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“No,” she yelled, “I am picking flowers!”

“They’ll wilt,” he muttered reasonably, but she didn’t hear him.

Azriel dozed off, surprising himself. But the pleasant heat, the sunshine, the breeze, the birds—all lulled him into sleep. He stirred only when he sensed Elain near, and when he opened his eyes, he was treated by a lovely surprise. He propped himself on his elbows and watched his beautiful girl walk towards him completely naked, with a heap of flowers in the crook of her arm. What she did with her dress he didn’t know and didn’t care. But he drunk in the slim, curvy silhouette of her body, the long, slender legs and the toned thighs. Her smooth, pink sex glistened just a bit with her usual arousal, and full breasts bounced with every step. Her hair flowed behind her, unbound.

“I got hot,” she announced.

He grinned.

“I can see that. I like it when you get hot like this.”

She stood over him, her delicious slit taunting him and he made to touch it, but she dumped all the flowers on him instead and said, “get up”.

“Why?!” he frowned. “I am so comfortable.”

“I can make you a little more comfortable,” she promised, “but for that, you have to get up.”

With a groan, he got on his feet, only to have her slide on her knees in front of him. She looked up and murmured, “by the time you are done with me, I only want to have gelato to soothe my throat.”

He swallowed audibly, watching her unbutton his trousers and then his shirt. She removed the pants completely, but left the white shirt on, before placing a few soft, loving kisses on the thick slabs of muscles on his stomach. The well-defined outline of his Adonis Belt she traced with her tongue, inevitably making her way from his hip towards the final destination.

“And I want my knees bruised,” she added with a wicked smirk.

He flicked her nose and shook his head, “such filthy words coming from this pretty little mouth.”

She licked her lips with impatience, hungrily watching him fist his member and give it a few rough, preliminary strokes.

“Gods, your cock is gorgeous,” she gasped with admiration, watching him work himself with practiced determination.

“You like my cock?” he drew the thick, smooth head of it over her full lips and she whimpered with anticipation, nodding, kissing it affectionately, with slow, open mouth kisses, as he continued to pump it lazily.

She admitted, “more than anything. Az, Az,” she begged impatiently, as he smeared a trickle of liquid that dribbled from the tip over her lips, “please,”

“Please what?”

She rested her hands on his thighs, kneeling close enough so that her breasts brushed against them, “I want it in my mouth. Please.”

He lightly smacked the thick girth of his shaft over her half-opened mouth, making her shake with anticipation, smiling down at her. Her eyes burned with raw, overwhelming desire.

“But I like it when you ask me, baby. Tell me more,”

“That your cock is gorgeous and ridiculously huge?” she chuckled, relishing in his rubbing the tip insistently over her lips, as she licked the little slit.

“Keep going,” he encouraged.

“That I love you and can’t wait to suck it?”

“Alright, babe,” she nodded at last, “I guess you’ll just have to suck my huge dick,” and with that, he slid between her lips.

She smiled around him and pulled on it deeper, dragging her tongue over and under the thick shaft. It was always just a little too big for her, so she gasped, as he filled her mouth more and more, sliding in steadily. She eased her throat as much as she could, accepting the thrust and feeling the smooth head dip down, brushing the back of her throat. He was watching her intently, every bob and swallow of her throat, making sure that she was comfortable enough to hold him in. “Big?” he murmured. Her eyes teared up, but she managed a small nod. Her hands squeezed his thighs nervously, tightly, stroking the backs of them, while he began to pull out slowly, before sliding back in.

Nothing was more exciting than Elain’s ability to mould her throat around his shaft, while those big brown eyes blinked at him, seeking approval. He put his hand over her head, stroking it, then caressing her face, her hollowed cheeks, while giving her mouth a few exploratory thrusts.

She readied herself and pulled back, releasing the cock with an audible pop, and then licking the underside, from the balls to the tip.

“Just like that, my love,” he nodded, watching her tuck her face in the crease of his hip and slide her tongue up and down the sides of his cock. “Is that good?”

“It’s the best,” she vowed, “I love licking!” she added enthusiastically, proceeding to do just that.

He always remembered that she was very innocent and whatever she knew, no matter how sensual, erotic or even perverse, it all came from him. He taught her—gently, firmly and thoroughly the art of the bedroom and whatever they did, he was completely assured that she enjoyed and wanted every moment of it. Thankfully, she was so innocent that she didn’t know how to pretend or fake anything, especially when it came to sex, and didn’t know how to play games. She was eager and loving and excitable because what they did together, with each other, pleased her, and for no other reason. Azriel cherished this level of honesty more than anything.

Therefore, when she said that she loved licking, she showed him just how much she enjoyed it, licking up and down voraciously, over the sides, watching him unblinking. He cupped the pouch of his balls in one hand and carefully eased it into her mouth.

“You are so good to me,” he groaned, as she wrapped her lips around the ball and began to suck eagerly, not caring if she was loud, smacking her lips, tongue working non-stop, caressing the flesh. She hummed appreciatively around the balls, sending a pleasant shiver down his thighs, her mouth completely filled with him. “That’s good, my girl,” he stroked her head, “just like that. Keep going,” his head fell back with satisfaction, and she swallowed hard around his balls, almost moaning at the sight of his neck, the expression of pleasure written on his face.

“Can I tell you a story?” he muttered huskily, looking back down at her, his eyes dark and his face tense. Elain nodded. He gripped his cock and then slid it back in her mouth, almost to the hilt, making her choke and gag at once, watching her eyes widen.

She was drooling, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the pressure of her member in her throat, or from the visual display of his stunning body above her. The thick pectorals, adorned with black and blue ink twitched as he began to pump in and out of her mouth, hard and steady. He held the back of her head, but the clutch of his hand was light and casual, only keeping her in place, as his narrow hips flexed with each deep push. A delicious bead of sweat ran down the cobbled network of his abdominal muscles, slowly making its way to the deep V etched into his hips, towards the thick cock that he was currently ramming into her mouth.

She drooled. She licked and laved and lapped. She didn’t care how messy or ridiculous she looked, because her man loved her and loved her on her knees in front of him.

“I couldn’t stop watching you talk,” he grumbled, “the first time I saw you. Your plump lips…Oh fuck, baby, you feel so, so good,” he rode her smoothly, with deep, expert strokes, “you wore that rose-tinted lipstick…and all I could think of afterward was those lips wrapped around my dick.”

She smiled over his member, lightly shaking her head, as much as her current position would allow.

“I am sorry, honey,” he smiled at her, “this pervy mind couldn’t think of anything else but getting my dick down your throat.”

And demonstrating just that, and the resolution of his dream, he pushed further.

“Alright?” he asked, carefully holding her jaw. She blinked her approval. He was unable to take his eyes off her, her lush lips wrapped tightly around the dark mass of him, her beautiful eyes tearing from pressure. He wiped the tears with his thumbs and then gave a brief nod, “give me those flowers, baby.”

Obviously, she couldn’t glance down, so she blindly grabbed a handful of flowers and handed them to him, her expression amused, a little surprised.

“What’s more romantic,” he murmured, stroking her hollowed cheeks and then pulling out a little, before pushing back in, “than putting pretty flowers into my Lainey’s hair,” and he plucked a small poppy from the heap, and pushed in into her hair, “while she deepthroats me?”

He was heavy and thick in her mouth, salty, delicious and familiar, and as he began thrusting firmly, the thick head hitting the back of her throat, Elain settled in for a ride. She wasn’t kidding when she asked for her throat to be raw by the end of it—she liked being sore somewhere in her body from him, at all times. Between her legs, inside her rectum, in her throat—it didn’t matter, though it was nice if it was everywhere, but she loved being marked by him in some way.

The hum and rumble in Azriel’s throat, that of masculine satisfaction and some kind of primal dominance made her so wet, she leaked down her thighs. But he didn’t tell her to touch herself, so she didn’t. He just fucked her throat steadily, the audible sound of her choking and sputtering around his cock and the satisfied snarls emanating from him, the only sounds around them. His hips rocked hard, pumping deep, as he garbled endearments and praise to her, “is that so good, honey? You feel amazing…”

She squeezed his thighs in affirmation. As he worked on her, he kept putting flowers in her hair, admiring her sucking and his work, “so gorgeous, baby. My beautiful girl…Good cock?”

“Mmmm,” she only managed, saliva bathing her chin and chest, her eyes rolling back with pleasure and exhaustion.

“Can you handle a little more?” he begged, “I don’t want to come yet, my love,” another flower in her hair. “I love you on your knees with my cock in her mouth.”

He set a brutal rhythm, muttered, “choke, baby…” and she did, gagging and panting over his member, the lack of oxygen making her pliant and obliging, her mouth existing for his pleasure. When they played a little rougher, he could request to squeeze her throat a little with his hand, while he choked her with his cock, but today, he was feeling romantic, as was she.

Her hair dripped with flowers of all kinds, as he fashioned her into some kind of Summer Lady. Or maybe a Dusk Lady, since the sun began its descent and shadows spread over the pretty little valley.

“Fuck me, you are so beautiful,” he grunted, looking down at her. “My flower girl, with my cock in her mouth. Bob a little, love, show me how much you like it,” he encouraged and she immediately began to bob her head  up and down on him, drool sliding down his shaft, her eyes pleading for his approval, which he gave generously.

He gently, kindly stroked her face, her throat, feeling his cock deep inside it, moving in her, rubbing at the indentation with his thumb. Then, he cupped her face between his large hands and murmured, “open up”, thumbs brushing over her damp cheeks, as tears slid down when he started to thrust intently, battering her throat. “My girl is sucking so well,” he was relentless now, pounding and pounding, an Elain thought that she might just pass out from the sensation, feeling lightheaded. Azriel had inhuman stamina when he was between her legs, but that also translated to when he was in her mouth, which meant he could ravage her completely. “I’ll feed you all the gelato myself, if you can suck a little more,” he promised with a smirk, pulling out completely. “Breathe,” he ordered, and she gulped in some air, before he thrust back inside, “are you tired?”

She shook her head ‘no’. She was never tired for him. She moaned, though his cock pushed down all sound with brutal, excited enthusiasm, as he cupped his balls tightly in his hand, readying to finally come. “Fuck, baby, you suck so well,” he squeezed her shoulder, stooping over her, the muscled of his abdomen twitching and tensing, his balls tight against her chin. Grabbing her shoulder with one hand, he cupped her under the jaw and kept her head still, as he exploded in her mouth. He poured down her throat with a pleased, blissful moan, throwing his head back, pumping harshly and erratically, filling her mouth over and over. She sucked and drank, swallowing quickly, gluttonously. Azriel always tasted heavenly, but perhaps it was something about being in Italy and all the fruit and wine that they’ve been consuming, but she couldn’t get enough of him now. He shot rope after rope down her throat and she lapped it all with pleasure. He dropped on his knees, exhausted, his cock still in her mouth, and she stroked and caressed his body soothingly, swallowing the last of him.

“Gods, Elain,” was all he managed, as he finally withdrew in an endlessly long pull from her lips.

She gasped, and licked her lips, before placing a loving, playful kiss on the pink, wet head of the shaft.

“Did you have fun, my love?” she cooed tenderly, as Azriel slumped on the blanket, head her on her lap.

“Baby, why do you spoil me like this?” he moaned, reaching for her bare plump breast and cupping lightly.

“Probably because I love you more than it’s prudent,” she smiled, her voice hoarse. “More than anything. Love you like I didn’t know I could love anybody. Also,”

“Yes?”

His chest constricted from her simple admissions, from the pure earnestness of her words, from the love that was shining in her brown eyes. He was undeserving of this woman, of her overwhelming love for him, of everything that she gave him so selflessly. But he listened and listened, because everything she told him was like a balm on all the wounds of his soul, and music to his heart.

Her lips were gorgeously, obscenely swollen, and he dragged his thumb over their plumpness. She added, “you are very hot.”

“Ahhh,” he chuckled. “So you are using me for my body?”

“I’d be stupid not to use you for your body. You got one hell of a body, my mysterious, shadowy Azriel.”

“Well, flower girl, you go ahead and use my body as much as you want, for anything you desire. It’s yours.”

He kissed her hand. Then, reached up and kissed her pretty pink nipple.

“As is my heart,” he added softly. “Anything you want. It’s all yours.”

She lay next to him, both of them sprawled in the blanket of flowers. She picked a poppy and stuck it behind his ear.

“Pretty boy Azriel.”

He propped his cheek and turned to face her. She was still covered in flowers, from all his handiwork.

“We are good together, aren’t we?” she murmured, laying her hand on his neck.

“We are. We are very good together, Lainey.”

She bit her swollen lip and then said, voice quiet, a little uncertain,

“Maybe you want to marry me?” she proposed.

He stilled, waiting for more.

She squeezed the back of his neck a little tighter and continued, no stopping her now, “I know we were thinking later, maybe next y-,”

“Yes,” he nodded, “yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, Elain, I want to marry you now.”

She gasped, tears of joy moistening her eyes, “In Florence?” she begged.

“Yes. In Florence,” he cupped her face in his. “Let’s go get married!”

#elriel #elriel fanfic #elriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #azriel fanfiction #elain archeron #azriel #elain archeron fanfction #acotar fanfiction #my writing #my fanfiction #la dolce vita #sjm fanfic #acotar #acosf #elriel modern au #nikethestatue #nikethestatuewriting #elain x azriel #azriel and elain #azriel acosf #elain archeron and azriel

[taestefully-in-luv]

The Island | KTH (Four)

Summary: You’re just two strangers waking up in a room on a lonely island where a company in the business of love has placed you. They believe that thanks to their in depth research you two are destined soulmates. What happens when your ‘soulmate’ and you want nothing to do with each other but falling in love is the only way to leave?

Pairing: Taehyung x Female reader

Genre: strangers to lovers, very slight enemies to lovers, soulmates au, roommate au, slow burn, fluff, smut, angst, slight crack, and drama.

Word Count: 11k

Warnings: swearing, sexual tension (?) implied sex

Notes: this is not a reflection of Taehyung’s art! Just saying lol But anyway, hope you guys like this chapter. Tae and oc sure have a lot of moments huh. let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, or send an ask if just want to chat about the stories!:)

Taglist: @ggukkieland @707sblog @peacedreamer14 @dopedreamfireparty @everythingnamjoon @taebae19 @typicalgenzworld @mooniyooni @getmemyfries @helenazbmrskai @justinetingball @jpeachytaev

© taestefully-in-luv

Previous --- Next

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Month 4

“What the fuck is that?” You point accusingly towards the paper Taehyung is excitedly holding up.

“What do you mean,” he grins. “It’s you!”

“…throw it away.”

“What?! No! I worked hard on this!”

“I look like a god damn frog.”

“In the painting or in real life becau—"

“THE PAINTING!” You leap towards Taehyung and reach for his atrocious artwork. Can he even call this disaster art? No offense, no actually, full offense but its ugly as hell. Taehyung lifts it high above his head.

“Listen, listen…don’t you think this hurts my feelings a little y/n? I worked hard on th—”

“I swear to God Taehyung…if you don’t burn this—"

“OKAY OKAY! No need to put out threats!” he pouts almost theatrically. You eye him up and down, waiting for him to make a move towards a trashcan but he just stands here.

“Well? Go throw it away.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Yeah, no.”

You close your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose, “What do you mean no?”

Taehyung narrows his eyes at you and laughs under his breath as he steps closer to you.

“First of all, you don’t tell me what to do. I prefer if it’s the other way around.” He smirks, “And second, I am still going to keep it. For the memories.”

You chew on your lips for a few moments, letting his words sink in. But for the memories?

“For the memories? Why would you want to remember any of this?”

Taehyung frowns at your words, he looks genuinely offended.

“I might not like our situation but…”

“But what?”

“Fuck, don’t make me say it.” He says while turning red. “You know, I still want to make good memories with like, you.” He admits softly.

You finally give in, gently reaching for the awful artwork. Don’t get it wrong, Taehyung’s art is usually so beautiful. He does landscapes and abstract pieces and they absolutely blow you away. But his portraits of people? Disgusting.

“Fine…” You smile down at the painting in your hands then look back at him, “But if I see this hung up anywhere I am burning it myself.” You smirk. “And I will take great pleasure in that.”

“Oooooh please tell me more about your pleasures.” Taehyung wiggles his brows at you.

“You’re the worst.” you smile, “Anyway, do we have a deal?” you stick out your hand for him to shake.

“Deal!” Taehyung cheeses, slapping your hand down and going in for a quick hug instead. You’re surprised to say the least, you kind of guessed Taehyung was the affectionate type but you didn’t expect to be on the receiving end of it. “I’ll be in my art room most the day. Movie night though?”

“Yes, movie night.” you oblige.

“Yay.” He chirps happily, skipping off to his art room down the hall. You can’t help but smile as he disappears from your sight.

But then your heart pinches in your chest. You want to feel happy. Are you just ungrateful? You should be happy. Taehyung is finally being himself around you and you finally feel like you aren’t as alone. But it’s all a façade technically…he’s got no one else, just like you have no one else. In the real world…if you two met would you become friends like this? Or is this all forced? Is your entire friendship fake? You feel your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach, you hate these thoughts.

He’s so different than you thought he would be…he’s lighthearted, he’s funny, he’s silly, he’s talented, he’s human. And don’t even get started on flirty Taehyung…You really thought he was some closed off asshole but as time goes on and he becomes more and more comfortable you see the real him, and you really enjoy it. And you hate that you enjoy it. What are you like? Are you still a brat? Does he still think that? You chuckle to yourself, he probably does. Has he grown so comfortable with you that he’s not as angry about being stuck here with you? No, you imagine he’s still really upset about this whole thing. He just doesn’t voice it to you as much anymore. Maybe he’s avoiding the subject. You can understand why. It’s awkward. This place wants to get you two together but neither of you are interested in the other romantically. You just don’t see it happening.

~~~~~

Taehyung is just relaxing in his room on the verge of a glorious nap, he is finally dozing off, eyes slowly closing when his head snaps up in reaction to a loud crash coming from downstairs. Now what the hell could that be? Panicked, he rushes to his feet. He flies down the stairs in record time trying to find the source of the loud bang. He stands in the living room, glancing around the area for any sign of you. Are you okay? Where are you? Shit. Frustrated, he runs his fingers through his hair and as calmly as possible calls out for you. But nothing. Fuck. Your name slips past his lips in growing panic.

He decides he is going to charge each room in search for you, when he reaches the door to his art studio. He can hear muffled words on the other side of the door.

“Shit. Damn. Fuck.”

He instantly roll his eyes to the back of his head, literally so far back all that’s seen is the white of his eyes.

“Such foul language for such a pretty mouth.” He whispers to himself, slowly creeping the door open, exposing a distracted and distraught you.

“Motherfucker!” you huff, your hands on your hips, eyeing the mess you made. God damn did you make a fucking mess. On the floor is a canvas, brushes scattered and a rainbow of colors splattered all around.

“What. Are. You. Doing.”

Your head whips in his direction, your face turning many shades of reds. He stands at the doorway making his presence known, looking at you expectantly, judgement in his eyes. At least he hopes you can see the judgement in his eyes. Because he is definitely judging like hella hard.

You continue to stand here, your blush deepening. He is too frustrated to find it anything but annoying. You begin to stutter out words he can’t make out. You are trying your best, that much is obvious. You’re trying to explain yourself but he can tell you’re only becoming more and more flustered at the situation. He is sure his annoyed expression doesn’t help your ability to speak. Whoops.

“I-I was…well, you said, well remember you said…” You try. You really try. He almost wants to laugh, but not quite.

“I-I said? I said what?” He keeps his stoic demeanor intact, just stressing you further. He’s almost having fun with this. Almost.

“Well, Taehyung…listen,” you try again. “You said,”

“I said?”

Your eyes scan the room as if there’s something here that will help you.

“Words y/n. I need you to use your words.” He demands, maybe having a little fun stressing you out. He sees your blush become such a deep shade of red that even he feels embarrassed.

Finally, you releases a long breath and words begin spilling out of your mouth.

“You said you wanted to keep that frog picture—“

“Your portrait, you mean.”

“Yes, yes whatever. Anyway, you wanted to keep it for the memories, right? You…you…you’re sentimental like that or whatever.” You pause to take a breath. “And and…”

He raises a brow at you, taking a few steps forward, mindful of the mess you made.

“And?”

You raise your head to look into his eyes. You’re staring so intensely that he wonders where you got this wave of confidence from. He stares back just as seriously. Your eyes are the same as usual, dark, plain, boring. For the most part.

“And…I decided that maybe, that maybe I want to…paint you…too?” you step forward. “You know, for the memories.” You tear your eyes away from him. But he sort of wishes you didn’t.

His brows pinch together at your little idea. You want to paint him ? He studies your face seeing if maybe there’s anything else. You look tense under his gaze, he admits that makes him feel kind of good. Is that mean? You look so incredibly shy, and it is so fucking...something, he doesn’t know what but it’s something. He continues to observe you and your shy expressions.

He looks down at you and breaks into his best shit eating grin, his hand reaches down to ruffle your hair.

“Yes!” he lightly chuckles, “Let’s make lots of memories!”

It looks like you’re in a daze, his reaction catching you off guard, he guesses. Taking a moment to collect yourself, you look up into his eyes again.

“Yeah, lots of ‘em.” your smile slowly begins to fade, “We won’t be here forever, so we have to leave with lots of memories.” you mutter.

Taehyung feels himself go soft at your words.

“y/n…” he slides his fingers down to cup the back of your head, fingers gently massaging your scalp. “When this is all over…we can still be in contact, you know?” Your eyes travel to the floor, eyeing the mess you made. He’s still getting over that.

“I know…but Taehyung, I still feel like I don’t even know basic things about you! Like what even is your favorite, uh, I don’t know, animal? I can’t tell you how long I have been wondering that and—”

“Then let’s have a whole night dedicated to that. Let’s drink some wine, paint some pictures and learn everything there is to know!” he moves his hand forward, his fingers playing at the ends of your hair, “Like, what shampoo did they give you because your hair is soft as fuck.”

You give him an unimpressed look,

“I know you steal my shampoo sometimes, I’m not dumb.”

“Don’t know what you are talking about.” He cheeses.

“But okay,” you grin at him, “Let’s do that.”

“I love Koalas and sloths!” You’re laid out on your stomach, swinging your legs above you while sipping on your red wine.

“You can’t choose two!”

“I just did.”

“Fine. Mine is…drum roll…its…” he pats the floor repeatedly.

“Oh come on! Tell me! I’ve been dying to know!”

“Its…lion!” he lays next to you, resting on his side. He eyes the painting you are working on. It’s supposed to be him…supposed to be.

“I like lions too.” You add more color to the background of the canvas. He can hear the smile in your voice.

“Sheesh…and you think I am bad at drawing people…”

“Stop being a hater!”

“ME?” he stares at you incredulously.

You and Taehyung are a few glasses of wine in already. He can tell its hitting you harder than its hitting him, you’re extra talkative and all giggly. He’s painted a picture of the beach while you’ve worked on a portrait of him, it’s amusing to say the least—the portrait. Pretty quickly glasses turned into bottles. Bottle number 3 has been opened and now he is also talkative and all giggly. He’s a giggly lil thang when he’s drunk, and he is drunk.

“Okay,” he sits up, sitting on his legs. “First impression of me, go!” he laughs, for literally no reason.

“I thought you kidnapped me.” You state plainly, “So like, a creepy person.”

His jaw drops.

“I’m offended!” He lays his hand over his heart. “You thought I was creepy?! And there I was thinking you were just some hot chick I hooked up!” Yes, he called you hot to your face. He is drunk, he is allowed to do that. Yeehaw.

“Okay to be fair, that thought crossed my mind too.”

“That I was some hot chick you hooked up with?”

“I never said hot.”

“But you were thinking it, right right?” he wiggles his eyebrows in the most exaggerated way.

You smirk before chugging back the rest of your wine, reaching for a new bottle.

“Okay, maybe I thought it.” You admit, your sly smile growing.

“Want me to open it?” he gestures towards the wine bottle.

“Please.”

He reaches for the bottle of wine, his hands brushing against yours. He hates that he feels a quiet fire in his insides when he touches you. He hates how when his skin makes contact with your skin there is an automatic heat that lights up and warms him, burns him almost.

“Do you have someone? That you like?” You slur out, curious about Taehyung’s love life.

“…Yes.” Taehyung admits softly.

“I am what they call a ‘Dilf’” Jin states confidently. The rest of the boys share a look of confusion.

“You literally aren’t a dad?” Jimin looks at Jin with a puzzled smile.

“But you can’t tell me I am not a ‘dilf’ though.”

“Okay Jin, you’re a dilf.” Namjoon rolls his eyes, going back to his book.

“I wanna be a dilf too.” Jungkook whines and Taehyung nods his head in agreement. Jin shakes his fingers at the boys and speaks up.

“You have to earn the title.”

“Yeah, by being a dad.” Jimin deadpans.

“Let the man have his dreams.” Yoongi says before putting his ear bud back in his ear and nodding along to whatever song is playing.

“My dream is to finish this assignment.” Hobi groans into his pile of papers on the table.

“This is your fault for going back to school for your masters!” Taehyung teases. He has just recently dropped out of school and he is loving it. He watches as his friend works night after night on paper after paper and Taehyung no longer has to worry about things like that. He can just focus on the music.

“Are you guys using this chair?” Taehyung hears a sweet voice cut off all their chatter. He looks up to see this gorgeous girl with light brown hair that reaches her waist and eyes as bright as the sun.

“Uh, no.” Taehyung clears his throat, “You can take it.”

“Thanks.” She smiles at Taehyung and then at the rest of the boys before she’s dragging the chair to the table next to them.

“Holy shit.” Taehyung whispers to Jungkook, “She’s so pretty.”

“That’s Hana.” Jungkook looks over his shoulder at Hana and her friends. “I have a class with her.”

“Bro, introduce me!” Taehyung begs. “You literally owe me.”

“From what?!”

“I let you fuck that one chick like 2 years ago even though I saw her first.”

“Oh? You let me? Really?” Jungkook rolls his eyes. “But anyway, sure. I’ll introduce you.” He says nonchalantly, picking up his drinking and taking a sip.

“Taehyung?” you wave your hand in front of his blank face. “Taehyung?” “Huh? Yeah?” he starts snapping out of his memories, “what’s up? What did you say?”

“I asked her name.” you smile awkwardly, “The girl you like.”

“Hana.” He quietly clears his throat, “What about you? Do you have someone?”

“After my ex? I am staying away from men for a while.” You laugh, “Like, can you blame me?”

Taehyung can’t help by frown at your words.

“Don’t close yourself off…” Taehyung whispers to you. “You’re too pretty for that.” He slurs out and you blink at him repeatedly.

“I’m pretty?”

Taehyung scoffs and rolls his eyes playfully.

“Like you didn’t know.”

Hours pass you two by, more wine has been drank and you two are giggling like school children. Taehyung is folded over, laughing a storm as you do your best impression of a dolphin. You can’t help but fall over and laugh your head off as well, the alcohol obviously has made you two crazy.

Taehyung finally calms down and looks at you with soft eyes, “So, what’s your biggest fear?” he asks, leaning forward.

“No!” you laugh. Fucking laugh. “Listen, we can go back to our serious convos another day…right now I wanna…” you slur your last words, “wanna talk about fun stuff.” you give him the most sleazy wink he’s ever seen. It kind of works for him though.

“Okay.” He agrees easily, “Tell me the story about how you lost your virginity? Don’t leave anything out”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “Wanna know the dirty details huh?” you part your lips and smile.

“Dirty? I bet it was as vanilla as vanilla gets.”

You frown at his words, “I’m not vanilla. I’m fun, I swear.” you pout.

“I didn’t mean it as boring babe. I just mean you probably lost it to like your high school sweetheart, your first love, blah blah blah. The romantic shit.” You exhale a short breath…babe? You like the new friendly nickname, you admit.

“Actually it’s the opposite.”

“The opposite?”

“First year of college. Random guy from a bar. Total one night stand type of situation. I didn’t even tell him it was my first time. I think he probably just thought I was really inexperienced. “ You laugh to yourself. Sounds like a situation you might regret but there is no bitterness in your tone.

“Oh wow. y/n the cry baby can do one night stands?” he teases.

“I’m full of surprises you know.” The glint in your eye tells him he’s going to find out eventually.

“Well then what are the dirty details?” he pries further, leaning into your space again.

“Hmm, don’t think I am drunk enough for that.”

“Oh, I can grab another bottle of wine.” He teases, “But fine.”

“About your comment about me being vanilla…” you begin but Taehyung is cutting you off with the shake of his head.

“I didn’t mean it bad—”

“Are you into vanilla sex?”

Taehyung’s eyebrows crawl to the top of his forehead and his mouth falls open.

“Why are you asking that?” he breathes out, his eyes darkening.

“They paired us together, you know? We probably have more in common than you think…my guess that means sex too.”

“I know we have that in common.” He smirks, “I’m guessing you never looked in the other room?” he quirks a brow at you. “You might find it interesting.”

“The other room?” you tilt your head to the side, “Oh? The one upstairs next to your bathroom? Yeah, I stuck my head in there once…I saw it’s just another bedroom.”

“Is it really just another bedroom though? You didn’t have a look around?” his sly smile grows on his stupidly handsome face. “Like I said…you might find it interesting.”

“What are you talking about?” you slur, “Why would I…?”

Taehyung rises to his feet, walks towards you and leans down until he’s softly gripping your arm and pulling you up.

“Let’s go explore.” He chuckles, “I want you to see the room.” He’s guiding you out the art room, you two stumbling through the door.

You both begin to make your way upstairs, his hand never leaving your arm as you two walk. You keep bumping into him and he only laughs, squeezing your arm every few moments. You guys walk through the hall until you’re standing outside the bedrooms door.

“Go on.” He looks at you with a smirk, “I want you to explore this bedroom.”

“You’re being weird.” You giggle, opening the door.

And just like you thought, it’s just a bedroom. There’s a large bed in the middle of the room against the wall, and a couple of dressers, a closet, a huge ass mirror and other normal bedroom things.

“And?” You glance at Taehyung.

He looks at you with an amused smile. “Explore.” He commands.

You give him a weird look before walking through the room, your hand slides against the dresser that holds the extra large mirror. You catch your reflection and smile at how drunk you look. Taehyung walks behind you and eyes both of your reflections, he steps close to you and chuckles.

“I like this mirror.” He whispers. “Great view of the bed.”

“Uh yeah?” you look at him through the mirror, “I guess so.”

“Explore the drawers.” His evil grin makes you nervous…you look down at the drawers and open the first one on the left, there’s multiple things inside but you can’t tell what they are. You stick your hand inside and grab the first thing it can find. You pull this object out and bring it closer to your face, your drunken vision making it hard to identify what it is. Then your eyes are expanding and you drop the object in the drawer, the loud thud making you jump.

“What was that?” Taehyung whispers, “Something you know right?”

A dildo. Your eyes scan the rest of the drawer only to see more, along with other toys. You quickly slam the drawer shut and turn around to face Taehyung, who is standing so close behind you.

“What the hell?” you stutter out, turning red.

“That’s not all. Check the closet.” He says quietly, pointing towards the closet. And you listen, you walk forward until you’re standing beside the sliding door. You open it and see various articles of clothing.

Lingerie and outfits. Maid, nurse, etc. You stare at the clothes in disbelief.

“What is all this?” you turn to face Taehyung.

“You tell me.” He says chuckling, “Seems like we like the same stuff.” He shrugs. “Maybe you can,” he walks closer and is touching the maid lingerie, “wear this next you’re cleaning the house.”

He’s teasing you. Your stomach twists and turns, your heart is jumping out of your chest and you feel so fucking warm.

“S-Shut up.” You lean back on the door.

“Oh baby, I think you and I both know who tells who what to do here.” He breathes out, not looking at you as he still plays with the material of more lingerie.

“Taehyung,” you sigh, “The cameras can’t hear you in here.”

“Ah,” he turns to face you, “Right. Should we head back downstairs?”

“Yes.” You slur out, feeling quite dizzy.

Month 5

It’s the bright white screen you know all too well…it has you releasing a shaky breath as you wait for the black letters to eventually appear.

“Hey Taehyung…” you call out for you roommate who is making something to eat in the kitchen. “I think we have an incoming message from our,” You pause, huffing out. “Our little friends.”

“Oh. Oh shit.” You hear Taehyung whine from behind you. “I thought they were finally starting to back off…” he sighs out. “Let’s see what these fuckers want.”

Request:

Skinny dip for 1 hour. Must be within a foot of one another.

Ex-excuse you? Ex-fucking-cuse you? Skinny who what for when what? Your eyes bulge out of your head. This has got to be some sort of joke.

“Hell no!” you yell out, not even sparing Taehyung a glance.

Voice full of panic, Taehyung is quick to bring up the alternative.

“The penalty!” he rushes. “What’s the penalty? We will just do the penalty!”

Penalty:

No power or running water for 3 days.

“No pow—what the fuck?” Taehyung shakes his head, disbelief written all over his face.

“Wait! And no running water? Like, we can’t flush the toilet for 3 days? That’s bullshit!” you drag your hands down your face, “And wont the stuff in our fridge go bad?”

Several long moments pass between you two and not in a cool way. There’s nothing cool about this shit. There’s tension filling the air around you both. Awkward tension.

“Isn’t this too much?” Taehyung finally says, obviously not able to tolerate the silence any longer.

You both exchange worried glances with one another before Taehyung says some shit you don’t like.

“Let’s just do the request.”

Your eyes basically pop out of your head.

“Are you out of your mind—do the requests? How could you say that so easily!” you mumble, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“I feel like it’s the best choice.” He gives his honest answer. “Plus, you’ve never seen a naked man before? We will get over it y/n. Knowing me and you, we will be laughing about it in a couple days.” He finally turns to face you, throwing a wink your way, “You know it’s true.”

You mull over your options and hate that he’s right. You very timidly respond with a quiet ‘okay’ and avoid his eyes. His dark, intimidating eyes.

Your heart is racing, No, that is an understatement; your heart is on the verge of explosion. Your nerves are scattered and pounding from the inside out. You are freaking out. Naked with Taehyung? And he seems cool as a fucking cucumber.

“Let’s meet outside once it’s completely dark out.” You suggest.

“Read my mind.”

“…Of course I did, we’re” you roll your eyes. “Soulmates.” you laugh bitterly to yourself, “anyway, I’ll just see you tonight.”

“So you’re just going to avoid me until tonight?” Taehyung asks, “It’s not like they’re asking us to fuck.” He sways on his feet, “Just keep your eyes on my eyes and we will be fine.”

“Right.” You choke out, “Because it’s that easy.”

“Are you saying it’s impossible not to check me out?” he teases and you feel your cheeks heat up.

“Shut up.”

“Brat.”

Night fall approaches sooner rather than later. You wish it would have taken a million years to appear but nope, here you are. You stand outside with Taehyung in front of you. You’re in an oversized t shirt and loose shorts, keeping it simple since they’re coming off anyway. Taehyung wears his usual sweats and a white tee. You two are standing next to the pool, knowing the time has finally come. After leaving Taehyung earlier this afternoon, you took a much needed nap to clear your head.

“Don’t let your eyes linger.” You mumble, nodding your head in his direction.

“Ha, I was going to say the same thing to you.” He pokes his tongue out. Taehyung looks fucking comfortable as fucking always. Like, this doesn’t bother him in the least.

Luckily, the tension is tolerable. So you decide to make the first move. You begin unbuttoning your shorts—

“Woah! Woah! Woah! Wait!” he yells. His arms flailing, trying to stop you.

You scrunch your nose in annoyance, “What?” you ask, not too pleased since you are just trying to get this over with. If you got told 5 months ago that you would be in a hurry to get naked in front of this guy you would ugly laugh. Yet here you are.

“It’s just-it’s just…we should go at the same time.” Taehyung rushes to say.

“Oh, okay. Pants first, let’s go—”

“No! that’s awkward.” He shakes his head, “shirt first.”

“Okay, okay.” You oblige, “weirdo” You whisper loud enough that he can hear you.

The two of you begin with your tops, you try to focus your eyes elsewhere but they naturally skim the skin of his chest and abdomen as his shirt comes off quickly. Taehyung doesn’t even try to look away as you undress, his dark, intimidating stare causing you to feel chills. You slip off your pink t shirt, exposing your bare torso that is laced with a pretty black bralette. His gaze doesn’t waver.

“Okay, next is our bottoms right?” You gulp. He only nods.

You continue the job on unbuttoning your shorts, letting them fall to your feet exposing your matching black panties. Yes, you wore a sexy matching set on purpose. If he’s going to see you like this why wouldn’t you want to look good? You would do that for anybody. You can feel him eyeing you as he slips off his sweats, leaving him in nothing but a pair of blue briefs.

Finally, you are left in nothing but your underwear. You eye him over, his body is so fucking nice it makes you feel bad for even standing next to him. His briefs are a light blue, leaving little to the imagination. You can literally see the outline of his—you know what. Is he sporting a semi, right now? You do an up and down of your own body when you realize you have more clothes than him!

“Hey this is unfair!” You whisper, covering your chest with your arm. “I have to strip my bra off and you what, just get to watch?”

“Oh? So I am allowed to watch?” he responds playfully. It’s that same teasing tone you’re still trying to get used to.

“Well, you’re obviously going to see…” You grumble, lowering your arm. “Welp, here goes.”

Taehyung swallows rather hard, his eyes trailing your body pretty shamelessly. You reach in front of you, unhooking the bralette and letting the straps fall off your shoulders before letting the whole thing fall to the ground.

“Uh, okay.” Taehyung clears his throat. “Now our underwear.”

“Right.” You say while reaching for the band of your panties, pulling it back a bit and letting it go, the material slapping against your hips. You swear you see his dick move at that.

“Okay.” Taehyung’s breathing is heavier than before, “On 3? 1…2..”

“3!” you shout in unison.

You both begin stripping away your last piece of clothing. You’re the first to be fully undressed. You let your panties drag down leg by leg until they join the pile of clothes at your feet. It’s not that you’re trying to do this in a sexy manner, but if it comes across sexy—then so be it. Taehyung pauses mid action, his eyes scanning your body again. God, you are starting to get really nervous again. His gaze absolutely thrills you, you can admit that. You’d live a life of torture to have him stare at you like this all the time. You see him lick his lips then shake his head. You didn’t just imagine that right?

“Hurry up.” You plead.

Taehyung finally drags off his briefs. By the looks of it he looks mostly hard, as his cock springs free. Holy Fuck. Your last ex—Ben—was not this…blessed. Taehyung has every right to be as cocky as he wants, he’s earned it. His dick is long in length but he also seems to have girth. How is one man blessed this much? You would have to have your hand wrapped around it—or your lips—to really know how thick he is. Jesus fucking Christ, what are you saying? You think your best excuse is that you are dick deprived. Also…how long have you been staring? You will say long enough by the look Taehyung is giving you. It’s that shit eating grin that just screams he is one cocky bastard.

“Okay,” you clear your throat, forcing yourself to look into Taehyung’s eyes. “Let’s get in the pool.”

“You got the timer?” Taehyung chuckles.

“It’s laying on the ledge.” you point at it, walking closer to the pool. “Ready?” you look up at him, waiting for his response.

“You look beautiful by the way.” He says out of nowhere. “I mean, as always.” He winks.

You blush pretty fucking hard at that, you can feel all the heat rush to your cheeks, lighting you on fire.

“Are you-are you ready or what?” you grumble.

“Always.” He grins, reaching for you hand. “Let’s go.”

You two tip toe into the water, pausing every few seconds to get use to the temperature of the water. You stop once the water reaches your collarbones, you walk towards the wall, lean against it and face forward. You turn the timer on and you both exchange a few words but you remain mostly quiet, You don’t think either of you know what to say. Every minute that passes (about 15 to be exact) has your nerves spiking.

You hear Taehyung sigh deeply as he inches closer towards you. Now why would he do that? He inches so close that your shoulders are touching, he sinks a little further into the water and then surprising you, he rests his head on your shoulder. What the fuck is he doing?

“We can have a foot of space between us.” You remind him awkwardly.

Taehyung remains quiet, you only hear his soft breaths.

“Taehyung?”

“You know how hard it is going to be to get the image of you naked out of my head?” He whispers with a chuckle.

“Don’t start using me as masturbation material.” You joke, your eyes looking out at the water. It’s calm and bright from the lights inside the pool.

“Start? You think you haven’t entered my mind before?” he jokes back. At least you think he’s joking.

“Stop playing.” You laugh awkwardly.

Taehyung is quiet again and you can feel the tension that always visits you two starting to build.

“Do you…have you…have you thought about me before?” you manage to slip out, surprising yourself.

“You’re asking if I’ve—”

“If you’ve thought about me when you have ‘alone’ time’ ya know?”

“Do you think I haven’t?” he lifts his head and stares at you. “y/n…I’m a guy. And you’re kind of the only person I see.”

Oh. It’s not like I see anyone else. His last words repeat in your mind. Of course, that makes sense. He’s stuck with you, of course you’ve entered his mind, probably against his will or whatever.

“I see.” You say softly. You step to the side, getting further from him and he frowns.

You two stand here, barely speaking. Maybe another 20-30 minutes pass when Taehyung dramatically huffs out.

“Listen y/n…about earlier.” Right earlier. When you made a fucking fool of yourself. Asking your friend is he has ever jacked off to you before! Before he can continue you slap a finger over his pouting lips, shushing him.

“Do you really think now is the time?”

“We have time to kill—”

“—okay! So let’s talk about something else!” you happily offer.

But you guess Taehyung isn’t having it, he steps closer and rests his head on your shoulder again, his breathing picking up. Why is he breathing so hard?

“Just hear me out, okay?”

You only stare ahead, exhaling deeply. What to do…maybe there’s no harm in hearing him out, right? Oh wait there is harm! The feeling of fucking rejection. Why does it feel like rejection? You don’t know. Why the fuck you care? You don’t know that either. But he’s fucking sulking, like a baby. You thought you were the baby here? You guess he needs to have a turn every now and then…

“fine.”

“You probably,” he sinks in the water just a little deeper, “hate me, right?” you don’t hate him…”Me, your friend, has had dirty thoughts about you, yada yada,” he closes his eyes.

“ wait what—” This is because he has had dirty thoughts about you?

“So about what I said…I’m sorry…”

“Taehyung it’s fine,” you rush to say in embarrassment, “I don’t know why I asked! Seriously, it was stupid. I crossed a li—”

“Wait why did you ask?” That’s when you freeze. Yeah why did you ask?

“Uh…”

“Why?” he stands up straighter, his head tilted towards you.

“I was just curious Taehyung.” you defend. “It’s not that deep.”

“Curious? About me?” he raises he brow, he pauses while thinking over his words. “Like, sexually?” he finishes, caution in his voice.

Fuck. What did you get yourself into?

“Taehyung…I already said it was stupid. Plus,” you decide to be bold again, “Hearing it was only because I’m the only one here or whatever didn’t do great things for my ego.”

“Wait—” you hear him stifle a chuckle. “That’s what you’re mad about?”

“Well…” you drag out the word with a pout. You don’t mean to be such a baby yet here you are.

“Wow! I thought you were mad because I’ve thought about you impurely, not because it wasn’t a good enough reason why…wow.” He laughs! He’s basically laughing at you!

“Well?”

“Oh my God, y/n. You’re joking right? I can’t just say I have the hots for my friend now can I? That’ll just—”

“Do you?” your voice is much smaller and quieter than you anticipated, like it barely escaped. Taehyung stays quiet for a second too long that it makes you ten times as nervous.

“Are you…” Taehyung looks at you with a look on his face you can’t quite place, “I’m naked in a pool with you right now and I am going crazy. Absolutely crazy.” Taehyung sighs out heavily, a frown taking over his face. “You’re ability to be so naïve just…baffles me.” He admits, defeated.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a beautiful girl y/n. Of course my mind has wandered. It doesn’t mean I—fuck. It doesn’t mean anything deep or anything like that. But yes, being with you and your fanfuckingtastic tits is giving me some trouble.” He says darkly. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed you checking me out either.” He smirks. “We are human.” He finishes.

A long, deafening silence accompanies you both. Its sitting in the water between your bodies. Just lingering, waiting for one of you to break it in half and drown it in this very pool. But no, it remains. And that person won’t be you. But several minutes have passed by and he is still fucking quiet. Maybe you should be the one to say something? You’re about to you swear , but you hear Taehyung grumble something under his breath.

“What’s that?” you say.

“I said, it’s only fair if I ask too.” Ask what? Oh. Wait. That?

“Ask what?” you ask, pretending you don’t know.

“You know what.”

“Nope.” you say, popping the ‘p’.

“y/n.” “I’m not answering that.”

“Come on.” He leans his face towards your neck, his breaths hitting your wet skin. “It’s only fair.”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” he pushes on. “Come on y/n, have you thought about me when you get yourself off or not?” he asks, his voice really low. How does he get his voice so deep? Fuck, it sends a shiver down your spine.

“Maybe once or twice I have thought about you too.” You admit, feeling a rush of adrenaline as the words leave your mouth.

“Once or twice?” he repeats lowly, “What did you think about?” his words crawl on the side of your neck as they leave his mouth.

“I’m not answering that.”

“I want you to tell me.” He sounds so breathless while being so demanding.

“Nope.”

“You’re no fun.” He chuckles. “Aren’t you curious about what I think about?”

“Not really.” You lie. “Don’t worry about my imagination. It’s the only action I’m getting anyway.” You laugh.

“When’s the last time you had sex y/n? Please tell me it wasn’t with your ex…”

“Yeah it was.” You admit and Taehyung pushes his head back, not liking you admission.

“Why haven’t you?” he asks.

“I felt so betrayed Taehyung…it’s sort of hard to trust anyone after that.” You sigh, “He hurt me bad. I’m…”

“You’re what?”

“I just don’t feel comfortable.” You say softly, “I don’t think I will for a while.”

“I see…I’m so sorry. I wish that didn’t happen to you.”

“It’s in the past now.”

Ben holds you close as he comes, his hands leaving behind their marks on your body from how tightly he holds you.

“Fuck yes.” He groans, “Did you come?” he asks quickly, breathing hard into your neck.

“It’s okay.” You sigh out, “As long as you feel good.”

“I felt amazing honey.” He kisses the side of your neck over and over. “Shit, we gotta get going. We’ll be late for work.”

“Do we really have to take separate cars?” you whine.

“Just for now babe.” He promises, lifting himself off your body, leaving your pussy aching for more.

“Okay…”

~

“He look so handsome today as usual…” you hear Layla talking to some of the other girls. “I’m telling you…he’s going to ask me out. He’s been eyeing me lately and complimenting me.” She gushes, catching your interest.

“Who?” you ask, setting your belongings down on your desk.

Layla turns to face you, waves her hand and smiles.

“Ben.”

Ben? Like your Ben? Her boss Ben?

“Ben who?” you blink at her and the other girls laugh.

“Obviously the only Ben we know!” Layla giggles and you feel your chest tighten.

“You think he’s going to ask you out?”

“Yes girl! He comes to my desk a few times day, calls me gorgeous, so on and so forth.” Layla says quietly so only you girls can hear. You feel your heart drop.

“I don’t think so.” You speak up. “Ben wouldn’t. He’s already seeing someone.”

“Oh really? Who?” Layla scrunches her brows together, “Because—”

“Me.” You blurt. “He and I are…”

The other girls stop their giggling and look at you with shocked eyes.

“There’s no way.” One of them says.

“y/n, are you serious?” Layla blushes, feeling a little embarrassed now.

“Yes, for months now.” you admit. “But we weren’t telling anyone…yet.”

“Wow! I can’t believe this!” another girl says, her hand coming to her mouth.

You then in a hush hush voice tell the group of girls yours and Bens story. You tell them how he pursued you, you finally agreed and how you two have been dating for over 6 months. They gush and gasp and giggle. It feels good to finally tell people, you think.

But unfortunately for you, it wasn’t good at all.

“y/n?” Taehyung knocks you out of your daze. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Fine.” You sigh, feeling weak. “I’m okay.”

Taehyung looks at you with pity, his eyes full of it. He stands tall and floats until he’s standing in front of you.

“I’m going to hug you.” He states calmly, “I really need to hug you.”

“Taehyung…” you step back until your back hits the ledge. “Now isn’t really appropriate.”

“I don’t care. I’ve already seen you naked.” He says nonchalantly. “C’mere.” He opens his arms wide for you and you shake your head.

“I said, c’mere.” He inches closer and closer. “Or I’m coming to you.”

“Taehyung.” You whine, but you let him get closer to you.

His wet arms reach out for you, he’s gripping your shoulders first before his hands easily slide down your arms until they’re under water holding on to your waist.

“C’mere.” He repeats. And you slowly inch closer towards him, your arms hesitantly circling around his middle. And then he’s pulling you in to his chest…he sighs when he feels your budding nipples graze his skin, he sighs when he feels the fullness of your breasts being pushed into him, he sighs when he feels you.

You release a long breath as you hug him, maybe you needed this. This type of human contact. You pull back and look up into Taehyung’s dark eyes, he’s already gazing at you.

“Thanks.” You mumble.

“I think of you because you’re cool. And really pretty.”

“Huh?” Why is Taehyung suddenly complimenting you?

“When I’m—you know. I think of you because you’re cool and really pretty. I could think of anyone ya know? That’s how an imagination works. But I still think about you.”

You’re sure your face is a dark crimson, with how hard you are blushing. How are you supposed to take this new information?

“W-Well,” You find it hard to look into his eyes. “I guess, same.”

“Because I’m pretty?” his tone is lighter all the sudden, you roll your eyes.

“What do you think? Timer should be going on any minute now.” Taehyung throws a glance over his shoulder towards the timer.

“Hmm…” You turn, reaching for the timer, your wet hands getting ahold of it. “Less than 5 minutes.” You read it.

“Oh.” He sings, “If you have a secret, share it now!” Taehyung chuckles into the water, his lips creating bubbles on the surface.

“You want to know even more about me?” You stand a little taller, the water reaching the tops of your breasts. You see Taehyung’s eyes linger for a second before meeting your eyes again. “If you wanna know anything, just ask.” You reach your arms over your head, releasing a yawn.

“Okay…” He places his fingers on his chin, “It’s about me though.” He stops, his fingers dragging down his neck. “Ah, never mind.”

“What?”

“No, it’s weird.”

“Aren’t we passed weird?” you giggle.

“No, it’s really weird.” He sighs out, sinking down into the water until his head is fully under.

You watch as he rises back up, the water cascading down his golden skin, the water from his hair dripping onto his shoulders.

A few moments pass, Taehyung stands here thinking to himself while you just shamelessly watch. You watch as he chews on the inside of his cheek, his eyes upward, scanning the stars. He hums some tune to himself, deep in thought. Honestly, you love when he does this. He looks so…good. Not in a sexual way, you swear. He just looks so him. So Taehyung. He goes from chewing on his cheek to his bottom lip, his teeth digging into the plump flesh. You gulp, God he has no idea how good he looks like this.

“Well?” You ask impatiently. Trying to wave away any more of those thoughts you were just having.

Taehyung releases his bottom lip from his teeth as his lips form into a pout, his eyes closing.

“I’m thinking…”

“Less thinking, more asking.” You feel way too curious about whatever it is he wants to say. And the minutes are passing you by.

Taehyung opens one eye to look at you, he exhales, and faces you.

“Does it sound like I’m in love with Hana?” he says quietly.

“W-What? You’ve only really brought her up once…”

“But when I talked about her did it seem like I have deep feelings for her?”

“She thinks I only like the idea of her” Taehyung mumbles to Jimin and Namjoon. “She doesn’t think I like her as much as I say? Which is so stupid!”

“Isn’t she right though?” Jimin asks with a frown, “You only ever talk about how pretty she is…”

“Jimin means you don’t really have that much in common with her, do you?” Namjoon questions softly. “You don’t…you don’t seem as into as you have been in the past. Are you sure you actually like her?”

Taehyung stares at his friends in disbelief, not believing his ears for one second.

“What are you guys talking about? I fucking like her.” He grits out.

“Are you sure you aren’t just lonely—”

“I don’t want to hear this.” Taehyung stands up from the couch, “I’m going to go see her.”

~

Taehyung makes it to Hana’s apartment but her roommate answers the door and frowns when she sees Taehyung,

“Yes?”

“Uh, I’m here to see Hana.” He gestures inside the apartment.

“Right…” the roommate stands off to the side and lets Taehyung in. “She’s in her room.”

Taehyung walks through the apartment and down the hall until he’s knocking on Hana’s door. She opens it quickly, hugging him and pulling him inside.

“Hey you.” She smiles at Taehyung and he smiles back with his teeth.

“Hi.”

“What brings you here?”

“Just came to hang out, maybe watch a movie?” Taehyung sways from side to side, trying to not make this awkward.

“Sure, you can choose the movie.” She goes to her desk, grabs her lap top and gestures towards her bed. “We can watch in my bed.” She says shyly.

“G-Good idea.”

~

“So how did you like it?” Taehyung asks excitedly. ‘Castaway on the Moon’ just finished and he is so happy he got to show her his favorite movie.

“Honestly?” she chuckles awkwardly, “I didn’t really like it.” She admits. “it was weird.”

“It’s not weird! It’s amazing,” he pouts and she giggles.

He does feel really disappointed that she doesn’t like his favorite movie…is that a red flag? No, he’s just being dramatic, he thinks.

“Next time I’ll choose the movie.” Hana cuddles closer to Taehyung. “Okay?”

“Sure.”

“Taehyung…” you begin, “Where is this coming from?”

“She doesn’t think—my friends too—don’t think we have a lot of chemistry. That I’m forcing myself to like her, but that’s not true! But sometimes I feel confused. And I thought I could get an outside opinion.” He admits, “But this was stupid you don’t have to answer.”

You can tell him you believe in his feelings or you can tell him you don’t think he’s even talked about her enough that you take his feelings seriously. But will that hurt him?

“I—”

Beep beep beep beep beep beep.

The fire place is turned on, creating a safe and cozy atmosphere. The gas lit flames burn a hole in the tension that fills the room. What sort of tension? Not sure.

Taehyung and you are sat comfortably on the sofa, sitting with crossed legs facing one another, your knees just barely touching. A bowl of popcorn rests between you and blankets wrapped around your bodies. Separate blankets, of course.

Taehyung and you have decided to move the party inside (with clothes: on) and continue talking.

The ringing of the timer didn’t completely ruin your conversation only delaying it.

“And I don’t know,” he takes a handful of popcorn and stuffs it in his mouth. “I think we would make a cute couple.”

“Yeah but like I asked, what sorts of things do you two talk about? Not if you guys are a cute couple.”

“We talk.” He states.

“Okay…about?”

“Stuff.”

“You aren’t helping your case.” You sigh out, biting your lip. “I want to believe in your feelings Taehyung but…”

“I know.” He cuts you off, “I know.”

“So why are you forcing it?” you reach for some popcorn yourself, “Why do you want to like her so bad?”

“I don’t know….” He admits softly, “I really don’t know.”

“You’re unsure of your feelings.” You say bluntly. “That’s what it seems like.”

“Maybe I am.” He wraps the blanket around his shoulders tighter. “I’m like you…I don’t know what love is.”

“And just like me, you’ll find it someday.” You promise him with a sweet smile. “Right?”

“You will for sure.” He breathes out, “I think I’m a ….”

“A?”

“God, I don’t even want to say it.” He throws his head in his hands. “But I think I am a hopeless romantic.”

“I just want some cute love story with a cute girl. And Hana is perfect.”

“But does she thrill you? Challenge you? Make you laugh?”

“She’s…” fuck, he doesn’t even know. Does he even know Hana that well?

“Hey y/n…” Taehyung looks up at you, his eyes finding yours and you shrink in your spot.

“Yes?”

“Can we watch my favorite movie? I’m curious what you might think about it.” He gazes at you and you nod your head slowly.

“Sure Taehyung.”

“Also, you can call me Tae.”

~

“Holy fuck.” You sob into your hands. “The fucking noodles.”

Taehyung looks over at you with a soft smile as he has his own tears falling down his face.

“I know right?”

“He finally felt like he had purpose Tae,” you look at him with a pathetic scrunched up face, tears still leaving your eyes.

“EXACTLY!” Taehyung wails, “EXACTLY!”

“This movie was amazing, and how everything turned out...wow…and how she…and he…my goodness. I’m still crying.”

“I told you!! I am so glad you enjoyed it.” He moves closer to you on the sofa without thinking.

“Only lame people wouldn’t like this movie!” you basically yell out and Taehyung scoots even closer, his shoulder bumping yours. But you barely notice, still too invested in the movie.

“Yeah.” He agrees with a smile. “You really must be my soulmate.” He jokes with an awkward smile. “No one else really likes this movie.”

“Ha-Ha.” You roll your eyes, “But anyway, that’s crazy since it was so good.”

“Stop praising it or I’ll have to marry you.” He jokes again and you start turning a rosy pink.

“Stop.” You whine, swatting his shoulder.

“Let’s call it a night, yeah?”

You and Taehyung clean up the kitchen and living room and head upstairs for the night, he walks you to your bedroom door and lingers.

“Tonight was crazy. I saw you naked.” He brings up the request and you go redder than red.

“We can literally never talk about it again…”

“Am I allowed to think about it at least?” he winks, his voice low and making you feel tense.

“Goodnight Taehyung.”

~~~~~~~~

Month 6

Today is one of those days…Taehyung is in a bad mood and you’re being a brat. He hates how much you’ve been teasing him today…he is sorting through his feelings for Hana but you insist on walking around with small shorts and low cut tank tops, claiming it’s ‘hot’. He finally has you cornered though, he’s finally had enough. He’s got you pushed up against a wall, his face so close that your breaths mingle with one another.

“You’re really pushing me today…” Taehyung leans closer, his warm breath fanning over your face. “Today’s not the day y/n.” he warns.

“How am I pushing you? I’m literally not doing anything.” You jut your bottom lip out and look to the side.

“You’re being…such a fucking tease.” He decides to say, “Which is giving me a real headache.” He leans down, his arms on either side of your body.

“So I give you a headache?” Your eyes look up into his and you smirk. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“You are real annoying, you know that?” he can’t help but chuckle, but then he’s exhaling a deep breath and rolling his eyes. “Ask for forgiveness.”

“Ask for forgiveness?” you scoff. “Seriously? And what am I asking forgiveness for?”

“You’re lucky I’m not telling you to beg.”

“Beg?” you scoff again. “Who do you think you—”

“y/n.” his dark eyes gaze into yours. His hand slides down the wall and then it’s at your waist. He pulls you in and leans his head down closer to your face, you feel the lump in your throat grow as you ty to swallow it down.

“Y-Yes?”

“Ask for forgiveness.” He tells you again, this time much more softly.

“And if I don’t?” You stare up at him and he chuckles.

“Do you really want to find out?” his gaze doesn’t waver as he looks at you…the way he stares at you makes you feel bare in front of him, like he’s stripping you of your clothes, of your skin, everything.

“And if I do?” you whisper. “What happens if I do?”

Taehyung narrows his eyes at you as he licks his lips repeatedly…you’re really testing him aren’t you? He can’t tell if you’re toying with him because of the cameras or if it’s because you’re a brat.

“y/n.” he says your name like the sound of a slow breath. It feels intimate, the way he calls out for you. You can’t help but gulp as you blink up at him.

“Y-Yes?”

“You want to beg, don’t you?” he smirks, he pokes his tongue out as he eyes you. You can see the amusement in his eyes. “You want to…” the words are dying on his tongue because what can he say? Everything he wants to say would probably be deemed as inappropriate.

“I want to what?” you tilt your head up, your eyes scanning the entirety of his face and he leans further into your space.

“Just do as I say, tell me you’re sorry and we can move on.”

“Do as you say?” you lean back until your head is lightly hitting the wall, “You think I would really listen to you?”

“Such a brat.” His hand doesn’t let go of your waist as he leans back as well. “Why do I deal with this? And yes,” he rolls his head back. “I think you would very much enjoy listening to me.” He pauses and bites his lip. “If this company really thinks we’re a match made in heaven then I am sure you can assume what I mean.”

You silently gasp, a blush painting itself brightly on your cheeks.

“Ah,” he leans in again, “So you do know what I mean.”

“Taehyung,” you mumble, “Sometimes your flirting for the camera is too much.” You whisper quiet enough the cameras can’t hear.

Taehyung leans down until his mouth is at the shell of your ear and you can hear the smirk.

“Who says it’s for the cameras?” he leans away from you again, he finally drops his hand from your waist and is about to turn to leave when your hand flies to his shirt.

“Wait.” You blurt out, “I’ll…” you look off to the side. “I’ll say sorry”

“Oh?” Taehyung looks amused to say the least, “Go ahead, then.”

“Only if you tell me what’s wrong today.”

“It’s nothing.”

Your hand goes from the middle of his shirt to his shoulder and you look up at him with big, doe eyes as he blinks down at you over and over.

“What?” he whispers.

“Please.” You whisper back, “I’ll be good,” you promise in a low voice.

Taehyung feels his chest get warm, the heat traveling from there to his toes. He looks at you with his serious expression and softens.

“You are good.” He breathes out. His gaze intense as he stares into your eyes.

“Then…” you pause. Taehyung keeps his eyes on your eyes until he’s not. His eyes slowly travel down your face until he’s staring at your lips. He notices how plump they look, how your tongue darts out to wet them. He feels himself being drawn closer to you, leaning in further and further.

“…Taehyung.” You say breathlessly and Taehyung blinks repeatedly, clearing his throat as he leans back again.

“Fine, don’t apologize. Brat.” And he’s stepping away from you and you watch his back as he walks away.

Taehyung. Is. Such. A. tease. And it drives you absolutely insane. You’re sure the company that watches you is having the times of their lives as you suffer. Why does he have to go this far? It only makes you want to challenge him and go even further yourself. There was a moment, right? Where he acted like he was going to kiss you? Of course he wouldn’t actually do that. This is just for show but god, it still drives you nuts.

Taehyung rushes to his bedroom, slamming the door shut as he rests against it. What the hell is wrong with him? He’s just frustrated. He misses Hana. But why do you have to be so infuriating and you know, hot. And it makes him angry. He wasn’t actually going to kiss you, of course. But there was a moment of strange tension that he…he can’t describe. Taehyung slides down the door, falling to the ground. He remembers his first kiss with Hana, it was sweet and nice but like, he doesn’t remember it being intense not like how it feels when he gets close to you.

“Taehyung!” Hana giggles as she pats his back as she’s thrown over his shoulder. “Put me down!”

“Never!” Taehyung laughs just as much as he runs around in circles. “Ugh, so heavy though.” He jokes.

“Hey!” Hana hits his back, “Come on, put me down.” Her giggles softly relax and he’s setting her down back on the ground, her feet finally planted on the ground as she keeps her arms loosely thrown around his neck.

“You really love carrying me.”

“Holding you is fun.” He smiles, “And you’re not actually heavy. Actually you weigh nothing.”

“Yeah, right.” She playfully rolls her eyes.

“So.” Taehyung chuckles awkwardly, looking into Hana’s eyes.

“So…” she steps closer to him, tightening her hold around her neck. “We’ve been hanging out a lot …” she flutters her lashes, “And..”

“And?”

“I kind of want you to kiss me.”

“Oh.” Taehyung’s eyes widen. He was not expecting that. He smiles at her and nods his head. “Yeah, I can do that.” He teases, leaning in until his lips are against hers. He pulls back but she pushes herself forward to kiss him more and he sighs in her mouth, loving the feel of her lips.

“We should do that more often.” Taehyung breathes out and Hana giggles.

Taehyung groans into his hands, recalling his memories. He does miss Hana but he feels like every time he thinks of her…he somehow is also thinking about you too. But it’s not like he’s thinking of you like that but yeah, you’re on his mind. And he’s got to chill out. He stands up from the floor and walks to his bed, throwing himself on it with a bounce. He’s still so frustrated. He recalls dinner yesterday, how he…

“I’m staring at you because you have sauce on your lips.” Taehyung says from across the dining room table.

“Should I get it for you?” he teases, standing up from his chair, the sound of it screeching against the floor makes you flinch.

“No, no.” you shake your head, “I can do it myself.”

“What if I want to help you though?” Taehyung tilts his head with innocent eyes. “I’ll clean you up.”

“Tae—”

Taehyung walks to your side of the table and bends down until his face is level with your face, he smiles at you and raises his thumb up to your lips. His thumb brushes across your bottom lip slowly, the heat of his finger making you sigh out. He leans in closer as he finishes wiping the sauce off your mouth. When he finishes he takes a moment to look into your eyes like he’s searching them for something. He’s not sure what though. You feel yourself being hypnotized by his gaze, you, yourself stare back at him just as deeply…you think he’s going to lean away any second but instead he brings his hand between your faces and brings his thumb to his mouth. His thumb pushes past his lips and he’s licking it clean, the action purposely agonizingly slow.

“There. Got it.” He breathes out, “All clean.”

Your eyes widen just the slightest…he’s a tease. A fucking tease.

Taehyung’s eyes light up in amusement when he watches how you flush under his hard stare and he starts laughing.

“W-What?” you spit out, your embarrassment has you stabbing your food with your fork. “What’s funny?”

“You.” He says with a grin, the air is starting to thin out as he laughs. “You make me laugh.”

“Glad I can entertain.” You roll your eyes.

You’re so…fuck, you’re so sexy. Taehyung has been wanting to admit that for a while, but god, he has to really fucking control himself. But he’s trying to keep these thoughts at bay because he needs to figure out what he’s doing about Hana.

He lays here thinking of all the moments he has flirted with you for the camera, he groans into his pillow when he has the hardest realization. Is it really for the camera? The tension between you two is so fucking thick, the air is suffocating, making it hard to breathe. The intensity…the thrill. You are the only one who makes him feel like his world is burning with a passionate fire. Hana is nice but you? You’re you and he’s realizing how much he likes that.

He’s realizing a lot. It’s been 6 months and he thinks he is ready to admit that this is beyond what he signed up for. He signed on to get along, but this? This is a whole other journey he’s going on.

Taehyung sits up in bed, his face gone pale as he makes his realizations. His mouth hangs open as his mind races. Does Taehyung just want to fuck you? Or….does Taehyung like you?

Suddenly, there’s soft knocking on his bedroom door, his head snaps in that direction and he knows it’s you—well duh, who else would it be? He scrambles off the bed and he’s opening the door. You’re wearing yoga pants and a long sleeve shirt now with an innocent smile on your face.

“I turned the AC down.” You say. “Now I won’t make your life hard by wearing hardly any clothes.” You’re teasing him and he’s going wild for it.

“Oh really?” he breathes out, “Are you going to say sorry?” he teases back, his breathing picking up.

“Should I ask for forgiveness?” you mock him and he raises a brow at you.

“I’m going to make you beg y/n.” he says lowly, “Keep this up and I’ll be carrying you to the other bedroom.”

Your smile drops at his words. What does he mean by that? He’s taking the acting too far…

“You ever begged before baby?” He walks closer to you, making you uneasy. You step backward further into the hall and sigh out.

“Maybe.”

“From now on, you’ll only ever do it for me.” He says so low, that you barely hear him. But you do hear him and you shudder.

“Taehyung.” You warn softly, you push him by the shoulders, backing him into his bedroom. Once inside you close the door and look at him expectantly.

“What?” he rolls his eyes at you.

“You’re being too much…” you whisper. “But fuck, I gotta admit you’re good.” You breathe out roughly, “It almost feels real.”

“I wasn’t kidding earlier.” Taehyung walks towards you, his hand reaching out to touch the ends of you hair, “Who says this is for the cameras?”

You glance up at him, clearly confused.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh y/n.” Taehyung feels his heart start to race. “This just got a lot more interesting.”

#bts #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #taehyung fanfic #the island chapter 4

[dreaming-of-the-end]

8 Reasons Why: Biana

Kotlc Hanukkah Day 7: Angst

A/N: In which I project onto Biana for 1716 words and am a little itty bit mean to christmas. Comments/reblogs = one anti-semite punched in the face!

Summary: Taking out a blank sheet of paper, Biana titles the top of the paper in neat print, adding some fancy flourishes: Reasons Why I Hate Christmas.

TW: hmmm anti-semitism, religion... also parents (you can skip Reason Three if parents/fights trigger you!), and a little swearing too

Taglist (tell me if you want to be added or removed!):  @steppingonshatteredglass @real-smooth @sunset-telepath @dreaminq-out-loud  @stardustanddaffodils @jaxtheoraliestanner  @spellbound-fire @turquoise-skyyyy @allystobin @silveredviolets @wu-marcy  @b-blurryyfacee  @rune-and-rising @lavender-and-rainy-days @chasteliac @confusedamphibian @hellomyfriends @cadence-talle @kai-i-guess @callas-starkflower-stew @a-harmless-poison @thesandsofdawn @raedas @gay-otlc @if-ten-million-fireflies ​ @everblaeze-and-balefire ​

"Merry Christmas, everyone!" Biana sings to nothing, an ironic smile gracing her lips as she twirls around her room. "Except for everyone else, of course. Happy holidays to you, for whenever your holidays fall. It must be around now, because everything revolves around me and my very special holiday. Don't you know? Haven't you heard? It's November! Christmas is right around the corner!"

She stops, arms falling against her sides, and frowns. "Yes, your holidays must be around now, all the important ones, right? I will not bother to learn what they are, because why should I take my head out of my own ass for once? You should learn ours, though. We matter more."

There is anger rising in her throat. It’s always there this time of year, when the snow begins falling and the decorations start appearing. This burning anger that won’t go away no matter how much she tries to convince herself this is just how the world is.

Of course it doesn’t help. She hates settling almost as much as she hates the Santa hats that clash horribly with her eyes when her choir forces her to wear them.

Biana sighs as she plops down at her desk and pulls out two pens.

One is green, and one is red.

She hopes people will notice the irony if she ever shows this to anyone.

Taking out a blank sheet of paper, Biana titles the top of the paper in neat print, adding some fancy flourishes: Reasons Why I Hate Christmas.

...

Reason One:

The lights are blinding when they're on every house but mine.

...

Her menorah is pitifully minuscule next to Sophie's tree, but her friend grins widely and places it carefully on the table next to the gigantic behemoth of a pine tree.

"It's so pretty!" Sophie says, and Biana wants to grin. But the large cross on top of Sophie's Christmas tree casts a shadow that just happens to land over her menorah.

This is her favorite one, too. She painted it herself in shades of sparkly pink and gray stripes, and she's used it every year since the fourth grade. This year, though, Sophie had the idea to make a holiday display; Biana and Fitz bring Chanukkiot, Sophie brings the tree, and everyone else brings ornaments to hang on it.

Something about the way it turned out—with the tree towering next to her skinny little candles—makes Biana feel... small.

Insignificant.

Maybe a little alone.

She shakes off the feeling, attempting a smile as Sophie clicks the switch that activates the lights wrapped around the tree.

No one will look at her sparkly, lovingly painted menorah when the candlelight flickers weakly next to red and green bulbs.

No one will even notice it's there.

...

Reason Two:

Winter is just a season, until it does not just mean snow and sweaters.

...

"Winter is my favorite season," Dex grins, and his dimples flash onto his cheeks.

"Why?" Biana asks before she is forcibly reminded that her experiences are not universal, and she immediately regrets the question.

"Christmas," he answers. "My favorite holiday!"

Not hard to have a favorite holiday when you have so few, she almost says, but she bites the words back before they leave her mouth. "Wow," she says instead, the words falling flatter than she intended.

Because of course he's allowed to love Christmas. Of course he's allowed to love winter because of it.

But she isn't allowed to have winter anymore, not when everything in it has been painted with jolly fat men with long white beards.

She's heard the same thing so many times.

The, Why are you so frustrated? It’s just winter! Everyone has winter!

The, Winter concert winter break winter songs winter sweaters winter bells winter holidays winter winter winter.

But it's never just a season. It's the holiday season, when she only has one holiday happening and at least four during the fall (not that they’re acknowledged), and that's certainly not a holiday season.

So, she knows the game.

Winter. When Christmas is? When we have our...

Christmas concert christmas break christmas songs christmas sweaters christmas bells christmas holiday christmas christmas christmas.

You know.

Winter.

...

Reason Three:

I am not the one making everything about me.

...

The first time Biana heard it, she managed to get into a screaming match that left her red in the face.

Unfortunately, that screaming match happened to be with her father, and it made living with him frigid for the next months. Even now, she's not sure that the ice has melted.

It began with the usual.

"This song is about riding through the snow on a sleigh, Biana! It has nothing to do with Christmas, why does it matter if you're doing it for your winter concert?"

"Christmas concert, dad. And it is a Christmas song. Sleighs mean Santa and snow means winter means holidays means Christmas." She's right. She's right.

And he is always wrong.

"Stop making everything about you! About your oppression or whatever you want to call it!" Alden shouts, and Biana clenches her fists. "Does everything have to be invalidating you somehow?"

It only escalates from there, and soon Fitz has to step between them and lead her to her room, arm around her shoulders.

Later, as Biana sits in her room and rips the card he gave her for her birthday to pieces, she knows she won't regret what she said. She only wishes she said more.

Because sleighs had nothing to do with christmas until they decided santa rides one. Because reindeer were just animals until she colored them in with big red noses when she were too young to think about who she was. Because bells were just bells until they rang in the background of every song she heard when she walked into stores the day after Halloween.

And now they are all she can hear.

Red and green are colors until they are put together. Lights are beautiful until they are blinding.

...

Reason Four:

I can list off Christmas traditions, values, and which ornaments my friend puts on her tree. Most of you have never even heard of Yom Kippur.

...

Biana tells herself she will wear her star of david to the christmas—the winter concert, they say— this year. But it doesn’t matter, because the hats they always have her wear will fit her into the same box as the rest of them.

You know.

Them.

Because she feels like there is a glaring beacon on her chest when she wears her star of david necklace, and she feels like everyone sees the stars pinned to her ears like they are mini spotlights.

But, of course, they don't. No one even notices her little protest, the only form of rebellion she is allowed to do.

There is an invisible wall between them. And she’s the only one who can sense it there, because she’s the one who’s left behind it, pounding at it, waiting to be let through.

She’s not naïve enough to think it could be shattered completely.

Biana tells herself she will request something different this year, something new. A single Hanukkah song to counter the three Christmas songs they have.

So she does. Even though she shouldn't be the only reason there are songs that she can sing with her whole heart instead of the little part of it she can offer for Jingle Bells.

Her teacher looks for Christmas songs to sing. He does not even try for anything else.

Why should she have to put the effort in to feel represented when every single one of her classmates see themselves so often that even she can quote bits of their bible that is a mockery of hers?

...

Reason Five:

The shocked faces you have when I tell you I don't celebrate have been getting old since the first time I saw them.

...

"Do you get gifts, at least?"

She's heard this one before. And she knows how to respond, even if she doesn't like it.

So Biana forces a smile. "Some do, but my family doesn't have that tradition."

She doesn't say, "It's actually the Christian mindset that's the reason some families give gifts, even though Hanukkah traditions never were about gifts. Check your westernization."

She doesn't say, "Is it a true terror to not have gifts? Is that really all you care about during Christmas? Can't I enjoy something without receiving what I don't need?"

She doesn't say, "Do you really think we are so horrible that the only tolerable thing about our holiday would be what we get to keep besides memories?"

She doesn't say these things.

But she wishes she could.

...

Reason Six:

Because of you, I am alone.

...

Do they know how they sound?

Do they know what she hears?

They say, "Why wouldn't you?

They say, "No, it has nothing to do with Christianity! There's no harm in trying!"

They say, "You are missing out on so much."

She hears, “Yes, I celebrate this. No, I will not let you celebrate that without a fight.”

She hears, “What is that? Why not? What is wrong with you, that you are not the same as me?”

She hears, “I am the best, and you are not me, so you must be the worst.”

She hears, “You are alone. You are alone. You are alone.”

...

Reason Seven:

The world orbits around the sun, not you. The sun does not have a religion. The sun does not care about a dead martyr, and it most certainly does not give a single fuck about a wreath on a door. And neither do I, hard as it is to believe for you who live in your own universe.

...

Hi, I am in 10th grade, from a high school in Michigan, and we have been learning about judaism in class. Can you answer my questions? First, is it true that you don’t celebrate Christmas?

Biana stares down at the letter blankly.

There is a sick feeling in her stomach, but there is anger burning in her throat.

Reading letters sent by a teenager who is a year older than she is, who knows so little that she wants to scream.

Is it true?

Is it true that you are not like me? Is it true that you are different? Is it true that you will never be like me, and I can never accept you being so different?

She wonders if they know how small they have made her feel.

So insignificant.

...

Reason Eight:

We came first. So why is Hanukkah called Jewish Christmas when they are nothing alike? Why do you say that our Chanukkiot are mimicking christmas trees, that we give gifts like you do, that our traditions belong to you, are copies of you?

Why does our history need to be erased to make room for yours?

#summer's writing #religion tw #anti semitism tw #biana vacker #jewish!vackers #jewish!biana #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #sorry I had to make everyone else christian... sad #if you feel guilty or irritated (at me + the premise) after reading this you need to ask yourself why #because chances are you are the reason I wrote this #now keep in mind this was not written with the intent of making anyone feel guilty #just be mindful yeah? #angst #biana angst #kotlc biana #jewish #ask to tag #angst without a happy ending #kotlc hanukkah week