#or a Black person with light-hazel (golden) eyes

[aweina]

౨ৎ. MANSPREAD ( 17﹢) ; mike schmidt

tags fem reader. established relationship. dry humping / heavy petting. begging. no reader orgasm ( boo ! ! ). cocky to submissive mikey + 1.8k words.

mike cannot seem to keep his legs closed. literally. sitting next to him was a total hassle. his legs covering every perimeter of leg space he could reach — leaving your knees buckled together and tucked in whatever corner you’re forced into.

you’ve mentioned his bad habit before, in which he mumbles an indolent “sorry” and then the next day, continues to do the same thing he’s half heartedly apologized for. at this point, you’re not sure he was doing it to press your buttons or his permanent restlessness has caught up with his memory.

then playful slaps on the knee became another idea. a quick sting to his skin kept his reactions stunned, buckling his knees together from your sharp touches. each slap garnered a short cry and a sudden flinch like some invisible string tied his legs together.

it worked, but only for a few days.

now mike catches your wrist halfway from making contact on his knees, gently tugging you down in the corner of the linen couch with a delighted chuckle. either that or he tosses you a knowing glance when you come by the couch, a raised brow and his hands protecting the caps of his knees — glancing his soft hazel eyes towards the tiny empty space beside him.

what a total ass.

all your solutions to stop his leg spreading habit seemed to do nothing for mike. instead, it made him even more repulsive — the spatial width between his legs could nearly reach the arms of the couch, leaving your poor body folded to regain any left over space. then his arms spread along the plush pillows — his rough hand would ever so often teasingly tug at your ears or play with the loose strands of your hair, pulling the ends while playfully twirling it in his finger.

in the corner of your eye, you swore there was a smug smile etched onto his face.

yeah, he’s totally doing this on purpose.

you thought a bit harder after that day. re-enacting different scenarios in your head without it resulting in some unneeded argument — nearly burning abby’s lunch in the process. but like a flash of light, it suddenly hit you. if mike was going to rob you of personal space, why can’t you do so to him?

“um … are you okay?” abby glances up at your blank eyes in concern, the chicken that was supposed to be golden brown violently sizzled from the bubbling oil, grimly layered under a blanket of black charcoal.

“o – oh, yes i’m fine abs.” you assured the smaller schmidt, transferring the hot pan away from the scorching stove — your inner victory delayed by your own clumsiness.

to salvage her burnt meal, you both shared a box of fresh delivered pizza for lunch.

but now it was that time.

it’s nighttime, mike was comfortably splayed on the couch, mindlessly flipping through channels. as it always was, his legs covered every crevice of the couch — body propped completely in between the plush cushions. the gray baggy sweatpants he changed into clung to his frame well — heavily ruffled on the parts you would love to get an eyeful of. his shirt was slightly damp from a warm shower, the gentle curl patterns in his brown hair glistened under the colorful glow of the television.

mike catches your lingering gaze, a pleased smile on his face.

“you’re not going to sit down?” he slurred a quip, patting down on the other end of the couch — seized by his thick thighs.

he refrains from teasing you for your blatant staring, but instead, for your multiple failed attempts to get him to stop his obnoxious leg spreading.

“oh yeah i will.” you mocked his sluggish tone, going to get yourself a cold drink before you make your way over to the couch.

blocking his view from the blaring screen, you purposely bent down in slow motion — distracting him from his vacuous browsing to simply put your drink down. mike quirks a brow at your little act, but still makes no effort to scoot over, barely moving a muscle.

then your body began to engulf his vision, fluorescent light spilling in the sides of your shadow. confusion knitted into his brows until suddenly, the air in his lungs were punched out from an added weight. the heavy crash of your body made mike rasp a curse, making him pathetically adjust himself after being nearly sunken in the folds of the aged couch — one hand clawing at the cushions for some stability.

“r – really? on my lap?” mike managed to breath out, holding your waist steadily with his free hand — your body felt so good flushed against his.

the innocent attempt to adjust himself ended up with him grinding on your ass, eliciting a low groan from his lips.

gosh, he’s too loud.

you hurriedly fish out the remote from his weak grasp, changing the channel to something that could hopefully muffle the pathetic noises that spill from mike’s mouth. abby’s room was still nearby the living room, the lights off and the door completely shut.

“well … you never give me room on the couch, so i think this is fair.” you explained leisurely, tossing the remote to the side as you grappled onto his spread knees, lifting off some weight to rub slow, shallow circles over his clothed cock.

mike fought back a needy whimper, biting his lip until fleshy pink turned paper white. the cooling sensation of his damp hair did nothing from how much his body was burning up. both his hands cling desperately onto the handles of your waist — kneading and lightly grazing his nails in your soft skin.

a throbbing warmth brushed against your clothed clit, mercilessly constricted by the confines of his sweatpants. you fought back a whine yourself, desperately tugging at the gray fabric with sealed lips. every steady brush of your soft flesh made mike see stars, the urge to lift his hips and grind harder into the curve of ass sat heavy in his lust hazed mind. yet his obedience seemed to glimmer brighter than his deviant instincts.

“ha ha- harder – ngh – please go harder.”

he sounded so sweet, so needy. you couldn’t deny him when the pool of his sticky precum oozes through the gray fabric — gossamer strings that weaved your dripping arousal with his own.

“s – stay still then.” you whispered, now fully pressing your weight against his hard cock — your back against his panting chest.

mike does what you ask, gluing his hips down to the cushions.

his heartbeat was racing against time, pumping all the hot blood that rushed down to his cock. his warm breath fanned the back of your neck, sending electric waves down your spine. his touches were sweaty, latching and kneading anything that pertained to softness. the open mouthed kisses he planted on your bare neck blossomed into purple hues, the drag of his teeth and muted whimpers coercing you to absolutely destroy him.

your hips rocked faster on his cock, the throbbing imprint tucked between the curve of your ass. his grip felt extra tight on your hips, reddish crescent marks decorating your flushed skin. mike throws his head back on the couch, his usual deep groans replaced with airy sighs. he closes his eyes, the same stars dancing in his eyelids — your heady scent making it harder for him not to hold you down himself and hump his cock against your pussy.

he’s so close, he can feel it.

“might cum – ah fuck.” mike warns with a high-pitched whine, the blasting audio from the television really doing him a favor.

you can tell too. his cock hasn’t stopped throbbing ever since he’s accidentally grind against you. his seeping precum never seemed to stop, only staining against the seat of the couch. he was like a horny teenager, so desperate to get off and trying so hard to compose himself. not like the asshole who was taking up all the space on the couch.

this was a great plan after all.

with one hard press against his cock, a spill of scorching heat nestled into your clothed pussy — eating through his soiled fabric and coating your covered folds. with no restraint whatsoever, mike’s deep groan vibrated the dimly lit living room, mindlessly bucking his hips lazily over your cunt like he could possibly pump some cum along your walls. the stars that whirled under his lids dispersed into a warm, satisfied feeling all over his usual restless body.

the very last minute, your hands flailed over his panting mouth — looking over to the direction of abby’s room. he seems to realize how loud he was, eyes widening as he hastily grabs onto the discarded remote, amplifying the volume to a considerate tone. not too loud to wake her up but definitely loud enough to cover the after effects of your intense heavy petting.

the light in her room remains untouched, her delicate footsteps nonexistent. she’s still asleep, thank goodness.

still both hazy from your lustful highs, mike drops the remote and snuggles into the crook of your neck — taking in your addicting scent while admiring the love marks he gave you. his cock softened under the soiled fabric, the sticky feeling making him furrow his brows. but then he realizes one thing, the sudden flinch of his body made you alarmed.

“i – i’m sorry. you didn’t get to cum.” mike sheepishly apologizes, fiddling with the waistband of your soiled shorts.

you shook your head with a relieved sigh, leaning back to gently kiss his stubble jawline — combing your fingers through his soft curls, dried on the top but the ends damp with sweat.

“i’m fine, baby, but you can make it up with one thing.” you mumbled in the base of his ear, a playful smile on your face.

in the corner of his eye, he can see the curl of your lips — the sight earning an eye roll.

“i already know what you’re going to say, but let’s hear it.” mike’s voice was baritone next to your flushed face, completely contrasting his previous whines and whimpers.

“give me all the space on the couch for now on.” you laugh when mike groans, still pulling your body closer to his despite this new ordeal.

“okay fine.” he defeatedly mumbles into your shoulder, his rough hands tracing over your bruised hips to your neglected chest — reaching under to knead your soft skin for his own enjoyment.

the moments of comforting silence were therapeutic, not even the continuous dialogue and sound effects from the bulky screen could ruin its peace. there was something still ticking mike off, he didn’t want to ruin this sweet moment but he couldn’t help it.

“are you sure my lap isn’t good enough?” he pleaded, a glint of hope in his hazy eyes — the couch being his only source of possession where he could splay himself comfortably.

you scoffed, rolling your eyes in the back of your head.

“no.”

it was an attempt.

he huffs in defeat, now kneading at your chest for some comfort.

“okay.”

© aweina : please do not copy, repost, or modify any of my content.

#.୨୧ ina writes #.purple mark #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #fnaf movie x reader #mike schmidt smut #josh hutcherson

[peachesofteal]

Dad!John Price/female reader This has been living in my head

“Beautiful out, isn’t it?” 

The old woman on the docks hitches her shoulder bag higher, eyes fixed on nothing in the distance. John hums an agreement, low pitch slow to rise from his chest. It’s not a dismissal, but not conversation. Non-committal. About as much as you’ll get from him, on a day like today. 

He keeps his focus on the expanse of the bay. A metamorphic magma layered coastal cradle holding entire populations of people, and animals, those that live on land… and at sea. 

He’s waiting for a fleck of dust on the horizon, a small speck that will slowly turn into ferry, one that carries some passengers, a few packages, bundles of mail by the heap. It is beautiful today; he doesn’t disagree. But it’s not because of the weather.  It’s because the ferry is carrying more than just a few passengers home. It’s carrying his worst nightmare. The final nail in a coffin. His own personal hell.

And… 

His brightest light. His favorite part of everyday. His everything. The reason his heart still beats.

Both on the same boat. 

The sun shines through the tips of the trees, bright on his face, casting an amber yellow glow over the harbor, and he basks in it, even with the brittle cold. 

The warmth of the light is foreign this time year, a time year when creeks all run underneath a quickly thickening layer of ice, morning frost lingers beneath cloud cover, and bears sleep.  

The town will be full of life today. The bar at the top of the hill, the only one in town, will be burning the midnight oil, everyone appearing at some point throughout the night, eager to have one last rousing round with neighbors and friends before the true cold of winter sets in. 

Of course, they don’t hate the cold. They wouldn’t live here if they did. 

Life is different in the winter. Year round. Life here revolves more around the weather and the seasons than anywhere else he’s ever been, or lived, and everything from the kelp to the whales, the deer and sea lions, the people, and the wolves, depend on the promise of perpetual change. 

The tide washes through little pebbles of ancient volcanic rock like a lullaby, one so familiar he swears he can hear it when he’s working, when he’s worlds away in his mind. It’s peaceful, full of memories, nostalgia beating in his blood for something long gone, long past. 

His heart aches, for a moment. Long enough that his brow furrows, and his hands find his pocket, anxiously feeling for the chain. 

The ferry shatters his memories, blaring across the beach, and the old woman gives him a smile. 

“Early today.” This time, John does respond. 

“Good.” 

“You must be John.” She offers her hand, face half hidden beneath a large hood and knit muff, black pants and coat nearly matching his. 

He hesitates, fingers flexing, and she doesn’t miss a beat, moving on to step around him, speaking briefly to the ferry captain, an old grizzled man who stared at John the entire trip, blatant curiosity wrinkling his frown lines. 

The wind cuts through his jacket, snaking beneath his layers, forcing his muscles tense. 

Bloody freezing. He's been cold, plenty, but this bitterness has bite.

She squints and jerks her head towards the end of the dock, sunlight glittering in her eyes. They’re beautiful, a rich shade of coffee and hazel, golden spotted and drusy, a cluster of crystals inside dark pupils. They’re a color he could drown in. The kind of eyes he could see in his dreams for the rest of his life.

The kind of eyes capable of disarming him, before he's even drawn a weapon.

“C’mon. Truck’s got heat.” 

“Mari says you’ve never been a Ranger before.” She tries to make casual conversation with him, patting the steering wheel as the truck sputters to life. Gears grind, they churn, and she smiles, glancing at the road before putting it in gear. It’s old, rusted in a quaint way, the kind that makes him think of old industrial parks and aging tanks, a rugged red chipped away above the passenger wheel well, rubbed raw by salt air. 

“I have… relative experience.” He’s careful with his words, hesitant about over divulging, and she shrugs. 

“With people? Or wildlife?” He points his face out the window. With people, sure. With bears and wolves and whatever else lurks in these woods, less so. 

The truck climbs a windy road, pushing up above the cove, narrow pitted pavement flanked by forest so black he can hardly see a meter inside the tree line. The shadow that lingers inside the tree line is primordial, alive, and he blinks when he thinks he sees something moving, deep in the dark. Douglas fir, silver fir, white pine flash by, occasional road signs with pictures of animals and speed limits dotting the way. “Logging is big industry out here. Forestry feeds a lot of families in this area, but it can be a point of contention.” She motions past him to another cove, one tucked just around the bend from where the ferry came in, its surface covered in shaved logs, all nearly uniform in size, floating together in rows upon rows, waiting for their next voyage. 

“That what you do? Er… logging?” Her hands are rough, skin cracked, nails trimmed short, and the coat is utility. Built for labor. For weather. It’s a natural conclusion. 

“No. I run the nature center in the late spring and summer. No tourism in fall or winter though, so I find other things to do. Work for the park. Tag trees. Winter trail maintenance. Wildlife management.” The truck rattles into a left turn, and she waves at someone in an oncoming car. “Guess I kinda work for you now.” Her chuckle is light, sweet, and his cheeks feel warm. “What brought you all the way up here?” 

Bloody hell. 

“Needed a change of pace.” 

“Long way to come for a change.” She muses, and he agrees. It is very, very far. Three planes, two ferries, this truck. Hours of travel, temperature dropping in ten degree increments every time he stepped outside. He doesn’t know how to answer that, how to tell her, what he’s doing here, how to say he had to leave things behind. 

The island changes, geology shifting, granite turning to mud and grass, darkness fading as the truck putters into its final descent.

He instinctively taps the tags in his pocket, a nervous tic that’s develops over the last few months since he took them off for the last time and clears his throat. 

“Yes. It is.” 

The ferry sidles up the wooden dock, rocking in the waves, captain giving the small, older woman next to him a friendly wave. At his side, a woman stands, straight backed and proud, eyes sharp against the setting sun. 

Is that…

You catch his gaze, glancing at the Ranger badge on his coat, and then nodding, hand lifting in acknowledgement. 

His breath freezes in his chest. You’re stunning. Beautiful, like the land, like the strait, and for a second, he forgets himself. 

Igneous rock hardens in his stomach, in his heart.

He's lost at sea. Lost in the swell. An eddy line of devastation sweeps him out, past the lighthouse on the rocks, past the pod of resident orcas, past the point of no return.

He's drowning.

Only to be brought back by one of his favorite sounds in the entire world. 

“Dad!”

#John price x reader #peaches writes #John price #captain john price #captain john price x reader #price x reader

[a-lilypad]

@jegulus-microfic | march 31: body hair | 876 words

regulus calls the fire station when a strange burn mark appears in his house and fireman james comes to investigate (cw: mentions of sex and someone nearly gets set on fire but doesn't get hurt)

Barty is laughing. Regulus is in the middle of a crisis and Barty has the nerve to laugh at him. He knows he must look ridiculous, pulling at his plaid pyjama bottoms, zipping and unzipping his ratty hoodie, and adjusting his hair using every reflective surface in his house, but how was he meant to know the local firemen had become hot? 

He’d called the fire station earlier in the day after finding a mysterious hole burned into his downstairs carpet. Stumbling downstairs in a desperate search for coffee at 7 am he’d spotted it from the corner of his eye. It was quite small and in an odd place, just in front of a cupboard he barely used, and it looked almost as if some acid had corroded his floor.

Regulus had hounded Barty, his best friend and current roommate, but Barty swore it wasn’t him. Though he didn’t quite believe him, it was too big to be a cigarette burn which did, annoyingly, put the blame on something else.

However, what that something is he still has no clue, and it’s been driving him a bit insane. He had sat in front of the hole cradling his massive mug of coffee with his chin resting on his knees just..glaring at it. For hours, until he’d been dragged away from it and forced onto the sofa instead.

The fire brigade had taken forever to get there, he’d thought they’d forgotten him and was about to phone them again (third time’s a charm) when the doorbell echoed and he jumped up, tripping over his feet in the rush to get to the door while flipping Barty off for laughing at his urgency. 

He’d yanked the door open, flushed and breathing heavier than normal and proceeded to immediately choke on his words because the man standing in his doorway was the fittest person he had ever had the pleasure of seeing.

Messy brown hair, big hazel eyes framed by gold wire, and soft rosy lips. His brain short-circuited and all he could think of was what those lips would look like wrapped around him. He was screwed.

Now the hot fireman (James, he’d learned), is on his hands and knees inspecting the floor, and Regulus is lost for words. He’s pretty sure he’s drooling actually. His arse….dear lord. You could end world hunger with it. Regulus wants nothing more than to dig his teeth into it. Maybe take a chunk out of it and bring it with him wherever he goes as a reminder that the world is a beautiful and wonderful place.

James chooses that exact moment to sit up and take off his jacket, revealing the sluttiest shirt he’s ever seen. This uniform should be fucking illegal. It’s so tight that Regulus can see every single curve, every dimple, every line of the man’s body, it barely fits him, he is bursting out of it, the material squeezing the top of his arms. He wonders how the seams haven't burst yet.

His arms. Wow.

They’re huge and covered in black ink, two full sleeves of intricate patterns and whenever he moves they flex, golden brown skin glinting in the light. He’s definitely drooling now. Barty has to lean over and shut his mouth for him. 

“So, James is it?” Barty says, smirking, and Regulus has never turned his head so fast, glaring at his soon-to-be ex-best friend, right eye twitching. He wouldn’t fucking dare…oh who was he kidding of course he would, he lives to make Regulus’ life a living hell. He should have kicked Barty out the minute James got here.

James hums in affirmation as he goes back to probing the hole in the carpet. Regulus wishes that was him. 

He can see Barty’s smug smile and his eyes twinkling and starts slowly approaching, moving into hitting distance. “You got a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend of course, there’s just no way a hot guy like you is singl-ow fuck!” he breaks off as Regulus elbows him sharply in the side while hissing at him to shut up.

James turns around with a cocked eyebrow, smiling, and lets out a chuckle, “Nope, no girlfriend,” then looks straight at Regulus, gazing deep into his soul as if he’s searching for something, “or boyfriend,” and he winks. HE WINKS. Regulus cannot handle this man he feels a bit faint.

As he flops down on the sofa he sees James stretching, his arms reaching above his head looking like some form of God, his shirt lifting and revealing a strip of soft skin and a line of thick black hair leading down and down and down…his eyes follow it, he’s unable to look away. Regulus loves a guy with body hair, but happy trails have always sent him crazy.

He picks up a pillow and holds it over his crotch hoping he’s being subtle, but by Barty’s sudden cackle, he guesses not so much. Although he doesn’t have to worry about it for long as James goes back to poking around, chuckling a bit under his breath until a huge fucking white spark bursts from his floor effectively stopping the laughter but also setting his carpet on fire.

Huh. That’s probably not a good sign.

#i wrote most of this in the middle of a church service #jegulus #regulus black #james potter #starchaser #marauders #marauders era #jegulus microfic #jegulus fanfiction #fireman james potter #james x regulus #dead gay wizards #sunseeker

[whensilencespeaks]

Hello Everyone! My name is Elizabeth, or just Liz for short.

In When Silence Speaks, you'll be taking on the role of an MC that isn't part of the human world but wishes to explore it. Sound familiar? This IF is a mixture of themes from The Little Mermaid with the twist of having the classic soulmate trope etched within-- the first words your soulmate says to you is tattooed onto your body.

The only catch? You've traded in your voice to be able to walk on land, but four distinct individuals have their greetings tattooed onto your skin... Will you have theirs?

🔱 Features 🔱

You can play as a mermaid, merman, or merperson. Choose your sexuality, appearance, facets of your personality, an oceanic friend, and your own special reason for wishing to go to the surface world. This story will be filled with a mixture of sweet moments, angsty dramatic ones, potentially steamy ones, as well as many more! Spend time with your potential soulmate while discovering that your deal wasn't as you once believed it to be.

The game, as one may expect, is heavily focused on relationships and romance. However, you'll be able to decide if your soulmate is a romantic one or more of a platonic one-- of course, you'll also be able to befriend anyone else you choose to! All four of the ROs are gender-selectable (male or female)!

🔱 The Romantic Options 🔱

Miran/Mira -- "The Heir"

The heir to the seaside nation of Semprya. An individual with a gentle smile and compassionate nature, with a deep fascination and love for the sea-- respecting it as it should be respected. They're slightly feared within the Court, despite their overall soft-spoken demeanor, because of the sharpness of their tongue and the keen nature behind their gaze.

With fair skin, despite the overall sunny climate of Semprya, and ice blue eyes, reminiscent of the frozen oceans of the North, they command respect with their presence alone. They stand at 6'2" with an athletic physique due to their combat training, but they still maintain an air of slender elegance as well.

Hair as golden as the sun's warm rays bring their look together, being softly curly. Miran keeps his hair semi-short, brushing his ears, and Mira keeps hers to the small of her back.

Caspian/Cassia -- "The Captain"

The infamous Captain of the dreaded ship The Leviathan is known across the seven seas. Stories follow in their wake, a living legend to all, and many believe they search the seas to find the soulmate that always seems just out of their grasp. Of course, others think they just enjoy the bloodshed that always seems to follow in their wake.

Years of life on the open ocean have given them a golden-tan complexion, that offsets the piercing green of their eyes. They stand at 5'11" with a muscular physique that still retains a sense of agility-- always being able to move from one place to the other with the greatest of ease.

Their hair is a rich golden brown that's as wavy as the place they call their home. Caspian keeps his hair to his shoulders, while Cassia keeps hers to just beneath her shoulder blades. The only thing keeping the locks in place is the classic hat denoting their position on their ship.

Evan/Eva -- "The Scholar"

The most trusted advisor, despite their young age, to the Crown Heir of the seaside country of Semprya. With a thirst for knowledge, that has pushed all thoughts of soulmates from their head, they see you as another puzzle in a world of infinite ones-- wanting nothing more than to figure you out.

They have a rich dark-skinned complexion, with a warm undertone, that brings out the brilliance of their light hazel eyes-- that look almost gold. Standing at around 5'4", what they lack in height they make up for in presence alone. With a lean body, from years of lugging around heavy tombs and scripture, they can be quite formidable when out of their usual robes.

Their hair is a rich ebony black that falls in gorgeous ringlets. Evan has his to his jawline and Eva's just barely brushes the top of her shoulders.

Alexius/Alessia -- "The Guard"

With a surly attitude, that only softens for specific people, they don't make it a secret that they don't believe in soulmates, that they don't wish to find their own-- not after what they've seen. A deeply protective nature is paramount to who they are, who they have always been, and it's only grown while in their service to the royal family.

Tanned skin brings out the silver quality of their hardened gray gaze. Standing at around 6'7", they're quite the imposing figure and don't try to be anything else. With a muscular physique, that's built for strength, they're normally seen within their armor-- you never know what could be coming after all.

Auburn hair brings out the cool undertone of their skin. Alexius keeps his hair short and Alessia keeps her to just past her shoulders, but she always has it in either a simple plait or a low ponytail.

🔱 Links 🔱

DEMO (TBA)

#when silence speaks #interactive fiction #interactive game #interactive novel #cscript #dashingdon #no demo #interact if #if wip #choice of games #hosted games

[evallon-if]

Evallon University, a place many believe to be more myth than real, is one that few have ever been privileged to see; at least where you’re from. However, it’s prominence over all within the world is known. Any who graduate with it’s seal are destined to have any job that they desire.

Of course, only the strongest are able to do so.

You never imagined that you’d be accepted into the ancient halls. Never anticipated that your fool hardy sisters plan would actually come to fruition; after all you just expected them to take one look at your application and scoff.

All of that changes on the eve of your eighteenth birthday when there’s a knock at the door.

Customizable MC: name, nickname, appearance, sexuality, gender (M, F, and NB), hobbies, and more! Note: Portions of the MCs personality have been set in stone.

An Arthurian IF that takes a more modern twist on our favorite tale (and characters).

Romance 1 of 4 Love Interests (2 Male and 2 Female). From the Golden Boy of Evallon, some might even call him the King, to his seemingly disinterested half-sister.

Discover the secrets that echo throughout the ancient halls of Evallon, but make sure that you get enough sleep for your classes in the morning! You need to be prepared for the Exams.

Pass your classes or utterly fail them (or possibly find a middle ground). It’s up to you!

Discover your Familiar! Who will be a reflection of who you’ll become.

Will you become a Legend in the land many believe to be a myth?

PLAY THE GAME (TBA)

Arthur Drake [M] — The Golden Boy

Son of the Dean, Arthur Drake is known far and wide across the campus of Evallon. Though, one would expect Arthur to be stuck up, like a classic popular kid, but he’s one of the most down to Earth people you’ll ever have the privilege to meet. With a gentle smile, a golden heart, and keen wish to see everyone do well, it’s no wonder that so much people on campus adore him.

Appearance: Arthur stands at around 6’5” with ice blue eyes and sun kiss skin. His golden hair, almost like the sun itself, falls to just beneath his ears. Despite his boyish smile, the chiseled features of his face depict that of a warrior that won’t stand down to anyone if he believes strong enough. He has a muscular physique that makes him imposing (if it wasn’t for his tendency to smile and laugh).

Lance Reed [M] — The Best Friend

You’re not sure what to make of Lance, or Lancelot, Reed. All you have heard about him are tales of how he hurt his best friend, Arthur. You aren’t sure if the rumors are entirely accurate— after all you could still see the adoration Lance had for him— but the way in which Arthur avoids him gives some credence to them. Will you be able to crack through the shell that Lance has put up around himself?

Appearance: Lancelot stands at around 6’1” with impassive hazel eyes. Onyx black curls, that fall across his forehead haphazardly, pair well with the warm brown tone of his skin. His athletic physique is usually hidden behind various layers of clothing; as if he doesn’t wish to be seen.

Guinevere Prince [F] — The Queen

Even after her fallout with Arthur, again mere rumors give the reason why, Guinevere still remained on top. Of course, it could very well be because of her beauty and the elegance that seemed to exude from her. You aren’t quite sure what to make of Guinevere, but you can tell that not everything is as what it seems. After all, that seems to be the common theme within Evallon.

Appearance: Guinevere stands at around 5’6” with slate gray eyes. Golden brown hair falls to the middle of her back in soft curls, which pairs nicely with the light bronze tone of her skin. Her slender body, usually housed within ensembles of designer clothing, exudes a type of strength you’ve never seen before.

Morgana Lafayette [F] — The Enigma

A recent newcomer to Evallon, like you, Morgana certainly doesn’t seem to be a novice in anything. Not with the way she holds herself and definitely not in how she interacts with the world around her. You aren’t sure what to make of her. With the only concrete information you have being that she’s related to Arthur somehow. Will you be able to uncover what lays beneath her walls of ice and snark?

Appearance: Morgana stands at around 5’11” with cunning forest green eyes. Raven black hair falls to her hips in a cascade of waves, which pairs well with the fairness of her skin. Being able to give Guinevere a run for her money in terms of looks, Morgana doesn’t seem to care all that much about them. Her lean body being encased in whatever she finds most comfortable.

#evallon #interactive fiction #interactive novel #choice of games #hosted games #no demo #romance

[saintbryde]

bound to the jinni | pt 1

Content Warnings | Tropes : breeding kink, noncon, dubcon, huge monster peen, somnophilia, sex slave and master dynamic, primal, dom/sub power exchange, squirting, creampie, fingering, bondage, drugged state from aphrodisiacs, instalove, raspberry sherbet flavored cum which is also an aphrodisiac

A/N : Please don’t use this as a reliable sex resource, the sex slave and master dynamic presented here is in no way meant to be a true representation of a healthy BDSM relationship

Parts: pt 2

Heather was vaguely aware of the sun dipping below the horizon as she manned the counter, serving a line of customers that went out the front door. The holiday rush was an exciting and exhausting time for Heather and her two sisters, but they couldn’t complain. After all, it was good business.

“Holly,” Heather shouted to her youngest sister, who was finishing up hanging festive flowers from the wooden ceiling beams. She whipped her bubblegum pink head down to the gift wrapping station that adjoined the counter in the centre of the shop. Three eager customers waited with their purchases clutched in their hands.

“Right!” Holly’s witch hat fell to the floor as she lowered herself down like a kid on the monkey bars, and quickly threw her hat back on as she made her way to the gift wrapping station. “Sorry for the wait. Which gift wrapping would you like? We’ve got shimmering blue snow, golden tinsel, or my personal favorite, pink petals for the coming spring.”

Holly could be a little frantic, but her passionate spirit brought warm smiles to the customers’ faces. Or frazzle and dazzle is what Holly would call it. The thought made Heather snort under her breath. The windows quickly became coated in a light frost as nightfall hit.

Hazel—Heather’s other sister—had brought the fire to life in the hearth and with a wave of her hand, conjured a swirl of wind to maneuver a broomstick across the floor, sweeping up fallen flowers, dirt and dust. The chiming of the bell that hung before the front door signaled the departure of the last few customers as Heather smiled and greeted the last person in line.

“Would I be able to see that one?” said the customer.

Heather’s eyes followed the customer’s finger, pointing to the large glass case on the top shelf behind her. It made her stomach churn like a bubbling cauldron. This dildo was inside a display case because it’d been a great effort to capture the entity that now hosted it. It was big, and such a dark purple that it was almost black. But it was also Heather’s greatest mistake.

“I’m sorry, but that one’s not for sale.” Said Heather.

The customer appeared heartbroken. “Why?”

It was the first mistake Heather made when she launched the business. She’d summoned an ancient Jinni and captured it without striking a deal. And Jinni’s were quite vicious, especially if they’d been forced into something that wasn’t a lamp.

Heather couldn’t bring herself to release the Jinni, as horrible as that made her feel. She was terrified at what it could do to her for payback.

A blur of white hair appeared at Heather’s side. “That’s the Annabel of dildos. You don’t want to touch it.” Hazel stated with caution. Heather nodded. “It’s a safety hazard. The jinni inside it isn’t friendly.” “May I make a custom order, then? I don’t see any other dildos in your shop that are giant like that one.”

Heather and Hazel eyed each other. In the heat of starting up a business, they hadn’t thought about custom orders yet. But now that someone had shared their desire for it, hundreds of other residents in Shadow Falls would want it too. Heather grabbed a notepad out from under the counter and grinned at the customer from ear to ear. “Tell me how you would like it to be customized, and I’ll see what we can do.”

***

As the three sisters locked up shop, they prepared their tasks for the next morning and subsequently outlined their schedule for the rest of the week.

Heather heaved a cardboard box from the storage room and emerged from the hallway, plunking it in front of Holly onto the counter.

“The first order of business tomorrow morning is to deliver these massage oils to the Bathhouse by nine.” Said Heather, before eying Hazel. “Then Hazel, you’re manning the counter for the morning while I get the next restock of dildos for the next summoning. Do you have questions, comments, or concerns?”

Holly clasped Heather’s sleeve, pleading babyishly. “Please tell me we’ll be closed for Solstice, Heather?”

Hazel leaned against the counter. “We know you love striking the iron while it’s hot, but we’ve made plenty of profit for the holidays already. Don’t you think it’s time we slow down and enjoy it?”

For a moment, Heather didn’t know what to say. Had she overworked her sisters too hard? Occultic Pleasures was her passion and Heather let her sisters tag along for the ride. She tried to recall the last time she had a day off and… she couldn’t.

Heather prided herself on being a savvy business woman, but sometimes she couldn’t help but wonder if she was working to her own detriment. She could have owned a house by now, been married or had kids. But she was rooming with her sisters at thirty-four with a dildo business that was popping off.

It’d been years since she dated seriously, and she wasn’t lighting up at the prospect of small talking other males. At least Heather could get her own pleasure in her shop.

“Do you have more shifts at the Hostess Bar?” Heather quirked a brow at Hazel.

She nodded. “Aunty is being very generous.”

If the boss was giving Hazel more nights at the Hostess Bar, perhaps it was time to slow down. And Heather knew as much as Holly loved to frazzle and dazzle customers, she also grew enchanted flowers in her spare time that could cast a curse or make a wish come true.

Heather regarded her two sisters with a warm smile. “We can finish early tomorrow on Solstice Eve, and have Solstice off. You guys can have the week off, too. I’ll work the shop.”

Holly collected the box of massage oil with fervor and made for the back door with a skip in her step. “Thank you, sis! I’ll set this down by the door so it’s ready for tomorrow.”

Hazel frowned at Heather. “You need a break too. I’m not talking about a day’s break. You need a few weeks off.”

Heather smiled at her sister’s open concern. “I’m fine, Hazel.”

She rolled her eyes and begrudgingly accepted Heather’s stubborn answer. Hazel gestured around the room. “Do you need help with anything else?”

Heather waved a hand. “Nothing, you guys head to bed. I’ll lock up.”

“All right,” Hazel padded to the back door. Their loft was above the shop, the only access an iron staircase beside the back entrance. “Goodnight, Heather.”

***

Heather finished lining the fireplace with some green and red tinsel, savoring how the fire warmed her skin. All she needed now was some hot coco and a chair to sit by the fire and she’d be content.

But as cozy as Heather’s little sex shop was, she knew she couldn’t sleep here. The shop was clean and ready for the next day. All she had left to do was take out the cash register drawer and hide it so no thieves could find it.

Hazel’s words came back to her as she went to the register. You need a break. While that was true, Heather couldn’t imagine handing over control of the shop to someone else for a day, let alone a few weeks. Occultic Pleasures was her baby, and she would not keep her eye off it for sometime soon.

It stressed her out to even think about it.

The bell chimed at the door, and Heather raised her eyes at the sound. The door had been blown wide open, and as Heather locked the register away in its shelf, she peered out the door to see if anyone was there.

When all she found was a snowy footpath, she locked the door. I thought I locked it before?

When she turned, the lights suddenly went out. The fireplace cast dark, lingering shadows, burning low.

Heather swallowed her panic, and searched for the light switch which was behind the counter. But when she turned all the lights back on, she found the glass cabinet on the shelf above her was empty, the door left open ajar.

Heather’s stomach sank.

The dildo had disappeared, so to the angry Jinni inside it.

Oh God.

In that moment, Heather didn’t see—but felt him coalescing into the air like smoke. The lights shuddered before cutting out, and no matter how many times Heather flicked the switch, they wouldn’t turn back on. A hulking shape stalked out of the shadows beside the hearth, and Heather’s heart stopped. A phantom breeze swirled at his feet—or where they were supposed to be—like his presence commanded a silent storm. His upper torso was exposed among the smoke, purple rippling muscles promising violence. The jinni flashed her a menacing smile. “Your business model has been fruitful. Capturing entities against their will and shoving them into your products.” His voice boomed, ancient and deep, full of contempt.

The most dangerous jinni had escaped. Heather swallowed, trying not to shrink as his tall form crept closer, leering down at her. Maybe if Heather explained that it was a misunderstanding, this Jinni wouldn’t burst her into flame. “You were a mistake. Every entity we summon into this shop strikes a mutual deal with us and agrees to inhabit our products.”

“Their consent doesn’t matter.” He brought his mouth to her ear, forcing her back against the shop window. “You’re greedy Heather, selling them for your own gain.”

“Please Jinni,” she begged. “I know how unfair it was for you. If I could reverse your capture, I would.”

“Why did you not set me free, then?” Heather had tried on many occasions, but the threat of this jinni exacting revenge always made her stop before she could finish the last step. The step that could set him free into the world. Part of her felt rotten for it, but the fear was too much.

When Heather didn’t answer, the jinni’s tone turned almost gleeful, his assumption correct. “You’ve felt not a drop of guilt for what you’ve done. I think it’s time you knew how it feels to be a captive.” With clawed hands, the jinni conjured a dark cloud of smoke and forced it Heather’s way, swallowing her whole. She stumbled away in terror before everything went black.

#monster fucker #monster smut #monster boyfriend #monster bf #monster fudger #monster fuqqer #monster romance #original story #terato #jinni #breeding k1nk #bd/sm master #monster kink #monster lover #monster x human #holiday smut #christmas smut #smut #somno k!nk #bd/sm kink #bd/sm slave #paranormal romance #primal play #smutmas 2023 #kinkmas

[boldlygloriousqueen]

Three Connected Souls -

Part 1: Two Souls

Griffith x Oc x Guts

Just a quick warning! This series will have smut, sexual @ssault and the alluding of it, cursing, toxic/controlling behaviors, obsessions/possessiveness, non-con, blood, and violence.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warning for this chapter: SLIGHT VIOLENCE

"Little princess, where have you gone? Princess Daphne! Why must you make everything so difficult for me?!"

A lady with black hair ran through the halls in search of the young girl who watched the lady from above the second floor. The woman seemed close to yanking out all her hair out of frustration with the child she lost. The missing young girl had light brown hair that was braided up and soft hazel eyes that followed the women as she searched the halls. The girl remained silent and bent down to hide her small figure from the woman while her hands gripped the poles of the balcony.

Once the woman was out of her eyesight, she stood up and walked towards the stairs. She slipped off her heels that looked rather plain. As a matter of fact, so was her dress. It was mainly white and yellow and had no special patterns or a single jewel rested upon it. She might have been able to pass as a maid. Daphne was never one to wear expensive dresses as in her mind there were "better ways for money to be spent" given the midlands' current state. Most ten year old princesses and nobles didn't have the same mindset as Daphne, which would explain why her father spoils her rotten in any way he could.

The princess ran down the steps, pattering her feet on the cold material with a stern face. She was upsets, very upset nonetheless. One thing Daphne hated most in the world was when promises were broken. While running through the halls, she held her dress slightly up to allow more movement for her small legs. Her hazel eyes were set on a large door engraved with golden designs. There, her father, the king, and his loyal commanders often discussed war and political issues. These were most important for the survival of Mindland, but Daphne did not care. She was a child, after all, and her mind was set on bursting into the doors demanding for her father to take her to the festival the towns people had every year on the same day. It was clear that Daphne could be mature at times, but she still acted like a child on other occasions.

This festival wasn't just any kind of festival, not to the princess. It was a festival that was meant to ask for the King and Midland to be blessed with good fortune during these hard times. People sell all kinds of sweets, dress in costumes, dance, and sing, but the princess's favorite time of the festival was when they lit the fireworks. Sure, she could watch that from the balcony of her room, but it was more fun to watch in person and see the common people smile. She could see that the festival was a few times people seemed to forget about the death and fighting outside the walls. It also helped her to forget.

Before the princess had the chance to create further rumors about her unladylike manners, a young boy emerged from the room. He had long white hair and blue eyes and was dressed like a nobel's son, though he was far from it. Rather, a playmate for the young princess who made a first good impression in front of the King when he was found roaming around in the courtyard. No one knew how he got in, but he did. He was described to look quite rugged, and he was skin and bones. He managed to avoid alerting any guards that interested the King. The man always enjoyed being surprised by people who proved to be of some use and so this young boy that came from the war room, was a boy full of undoutable potential, but potential isn't always enough to reach your dreams, your desires so at what cost would someone like this chose to pay?

"Griffith!" Daphne waved one of her hands up to catch his attention.

Daphne was fond of Griffith without a doubt. He never spoke behind her back like other children and adults did. He was someone who made her feel safe, and she felt that he was the only one in this castle she could share her secrets with. Of course, she was a girl so it was safe to say she had a bit of a crush on him as most young girls did when they met him, but in the eyes of adults the princess was merely happy to have someone to play with. The boy's eyes pierced the princess, but without any malicious intent. He always had that look in his eyes, like he was always chasing after something he couldn't quite reach. The smile that came after suited his face, Daphne felt the room brighten with his presence and brought a soft red hue to her cheeks as he closed the door softly, behind him.

"Princess Daphne, what brings you here?"

"A-ah, is my father inside?" Griffith's smile widened at her shyness. Griffith knew of the princess's feelings towards him. If he had to, he'd use those feelings for his own use. They belonged to him in his eyes to begin with.

"I'm afraid he is busy, princess. I do hope you do not plan to create a big ruckus. I wouldn't want you to get in trouble," Griffth walked closer to Daphne, who was pouting her lips.

"Father promised we'd attend the festival like we always do."

"I don't think that will be possible this year, princess. Your father won't be finished anytime soon." Griffith's eyes traveled down to Daphne's feet to see her barefoot were missing then to the heels in her hand.

"Princess, why aren't you wearing your heels. The floor is cold. What if you were to get sick." Griffith bent down onto one of his knees and held his hand up for Daphne to hand him one of her shoes. She furrowed her brow and hid the shoes behind her back.

"Griffith, are you my friend?" The boy stared at her slightly confused.

"Yes, of course, princess."

"Then, from now on, stop calling me princess. It just Daphne."

"But-"

"And stop acting like you're some servant. You shouldn't do this for anyone, not even me. I can take care of myself," the girl sat the two shoes down, then slipped her feet in one by one while holding her dress up for a better view. She held her hands on her hips and held her head slightly up.

"See, this is nothing."

Griffith chuckled while he stood back up. Daphne felt her cheeks burn up worse than it did before. With him being so close to her, she never noticed the slight difference in their height.

"You're right, my mistake. From now on, I won't coddle you as mush. I'm sure you already deal with that enough from everyone, but if there is anything you ever need from me, I'll always be there for you, Daphne."

Things like this were the reason Daphne was so close to Griffith. She couldn't see a life without him. Anyone else would have told the princess they couldn't do what Griffith because of the difference in their 'class'. A large smile grew on Daphne's face, and without thinking, she wrapped her arms around his waist. Griffith patted the innocent young girl's hair and rested his head a top of hers. He fond himself getting more use to the girl. He promised the moment he met her that she would br nothing more than a pawn for his dream and while that steal might the case, he was getting attached to the girl to the point he'd do anything to keep her at his side. He never met someone so unselfish, unlike himself. Her uncle would have been furious at the sight. He never liked Griffith. He always saw him as another one of his problems to deal with.

"Princess!"

The young children could hear someone yelling from the distance. Griffith took the princess's hand, and they both shared a thought together, and without saying a single word, they ran out to the garden.

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

"It's so pretty, Griffith." Daphne admired the wooden bracelet that was delicately carved and carefully tied around her wrist. Daphne and Griffith wore hoods as they walked the streets.

"It doesn't compare to your jewelry collection, but I'm glad you enjoy it." His fingers grazed her cheeks softly, having the same smile he always had when looking at her.

"I'm glad you carry that with you. It suits you," Daphne pointed to the sword hidden in the scabbard on his hip.

"Does it not scare you?"

"Why would it when your the one who's wearing it? The only people who should worry about you with that sword are the evil people in this world. Besides, you've been training a lot lately. I'm sure your an expert and... soon you could... possibly teach me to use one some day."

"I could have sworn your father said no," he spoke with an amused smile knowing Daphne's intent with the subject.

"My father is an overprotective old man who doesn't understand that I'm growing up. You never know when I'll need to use one, and it's better to be safe than sorry," the princess continued, "I should know how to protect myself. What if you are not around? Would you really trust my life with just anyone?" Griffith spoke his head, the same smile remaining.

"I suppose I wouldn't."

-Boom-

The two swiftly moved their heads to the direction of the noise, and there they saw the beautiful fireworks that lit the sky. Along came from cheers and praise from the townsfolk. Daphne found it fascinating that someone found a way to light the sky with festive colors. It seemed like something that would take up a lot of time to create, but she could never grew tired of watching them. She grabbed a hold of Griffith's arm and rested her head on his shoulder, keeping her eyes on the fireworks.

"Do you remember what you told me when we first met? About you having a dream?"

"I do," Griffith responded as his eyes went from the fireworks to the castle in the distance.

"What is your dream?"

"What I want...." he paused for a long second before breathing out a soft sigh. "That's a secret, little princess."

"Ha? Friends are supposed to share secrets with each other. You know all of mine."

"Mm, I'll tell you one day when the time is right, so don't pout."

"You promise to tell me?" Her eyes stared up at him wanting reassurance.

"I promise. Just be patient. Haven't you heard that patience is-"

"Key? Yeah, yeah. I've heard this all before. You're starting to sound like my father now. I think it was time for you to stop joining them in that war room. You might end up becoming like him,"

"I'd could never. I fear you might grow tired of me," he gently poked her nose. Happiness smeared all over her face from his touch.

"And what about you, Daphne? What are your dreams?" He asked curiously.

"....I want to help the people of Midland in any way I can, but as of now, I can not do that as I know too little," Griffith flinched slightly at her words. Most girls her age would speak of marriage, having a family, or keeping family content. Yet the princess is more concerned for others rather than herself.

"I will become Queen no matter what. I will learn until my brain hurts, I'll even be willing to ride into battle so everyone knows how serious I am. People are always worried about the next time their families eat or what war will take their children away from them," The princess pulled away from Griffith and held a fist to her heart. "When I become Queen, it will be the last thing they have to worry about."

Griffith held his head down as he stared at the ground with wide eyes. This was something he truly didn't expect her to hear. He knew the kind heart she held, but he didn't think she had that much kindness. In a way... she was reminding him of himself. The princess didn't stop there. She continued to talk further about her dreams, but the more she talked, the more Griffith zoned out into his own thoughts. How could he ever let someone like her go? She was exactly like him, no... maybe even better... different? The mere thought of it brought a devilish smile to his face that was covered by his long hair.

"You are truly delightful, Daphne,"

The princess turned towards Griffith who was mumbling. "What was that-" before she could finish her question she felt a strong force push her down.

"Hey, can't you see!" Daphne yelled at the perpetrator who had a scrunched up face. He was a young boy who had short hair that stuck up. His hair almost reminded her of a raven. He had a noticeable scar on his nose and he seemed to have the look of someone who knew not a single bit of happiness. Oddly, he held a sword on his back that seemed way too big for someone his size and height.

"Daphne! Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Griffith touched the young girl's face as he scanned her body. "You should be aware of your surroundings. You could have easily hurt her." Griffith stared up at the rough looking boy who seemed to care less as he searched his surroundings.

"Maybe next time she shouldn't be in the way," he spoke coldly before running through the crowd. Daphne was stunned to see the boy run off without even apologizing and she couldn't stand how rude he was towards them.

"I'm going to kill that jerk!" Daphne stood onto her feet and began her chase as Griffith started his after to princess.

#guts #guts berserk #griffith #beserk #griffith x oc #griffith imagine #gut x oc #beserk imagine #griffith x reader #guts x reader

[foodsies4me]

The Fearsome Four

Alright so it seems that more than one person wants a list so here we go with the first four trainees. (I will be splitting this up because like some people aptly remarked there are Too Many Trainees and writing them all down in one post is going to make for an infinitely long post. (Cries in, these were supposed to be one of characters that were just supposed to make the institute feel more lived-in. Not menaces that take over half of the story)

Maxwell Joseph Lightwood (He/Him, 9 years and a half - Not an OC though I HC him looking differently than in the series in my head)

Nicknames: Max, Maxie, Little Clover, Cricket, Little Caramel, Menace, Little Terror

Physical description: looks like a mini Alec – black hair, hazels eyes and mischief in his blood. He’s smaller than the other trainees his age, standing somewhere between 3ft 11 and 4ft (120,2 cm) Has three long gashes on his torso that span most of his chest as well as two smaller but just as thick scars on his right upper thigh, a thick scar on his left ankle and one on the inside of his right arm. (This only applies for AWG Max. Golden Words Alec is 4ft 3 (130,5 centimeters) and has no such scars.)

Personality: He’s the Menace Supreme what more do you want me to say? Culprit number 1 of the Mumbai Incident.

Extra info: co- owner of Bubbles and has a batman backpack with cartoon characters and sharks on it

2. Arjun Jaskaran Bhasin (He/Him, 9 years old)

Nicknames: Arji, Jun-Jun, Marshmallow, Chotu (nickname only his older siblings call him)

Physical description: thick dark-brown hair that’s mostly straight, dark brown nearly black eyes. He’s about 4ft2 (128,5 centimeters) and the only one of the fearsome four that doesn’t look like a mess most of the time.

Personality and tidbits: He’s quieter than his three best friends, but no less of a menace for it. He’s the youngest in his family and is close with his parents/older siblings despite not living in the same institute. He loves everything dragons and, even though he misses his family a lot, he also loves being at the NYI. Now if only Alec could get the rest of his family to work there as well…Culprit Number 2 of the Mumbai Incident.

Extra info: has a dragon backpack, yes the dragon can breathe fire.

3. Barika Fahari (He/Him, almost 10)

Nickname: Barii, Riri, Gumdrop

Physical description: short, black curly hair. Light brown eyes. 4ft 5 (134 cm) which makes him the tallest of the foursome fear.

Personality and tidbits: Barika was originally supposed to be a female character because I didn’t want Max to only have male best friends, but then Barika decided he was trans without any care as to what I had planned (hence the female name which he decided he was keeping). Like Max, he’s a menace and adores comics. His absolute BFF is Leo and those two will probably end up as parabatai in the future. Culprit number 3 of the Mumbai Incident.

Extra info: Has a The Flash backpack with a little Green Lantern keychain and ever-changing cartoon/Manga-characters on the sides. Robin, Batman and Cyborg logos are embroidered on the straps.

4. Leonard Benjamin Knightvale (He/him, two days older than Max and will never let him live it down)

Nickname: Leo, Lenny, corn chip, little lion

Physical description: light brown hair that tends to get in his eyes, green-brown eyes and 4ft3 (130 centimeters – yes, Golden Words Max teases him back for being older but shorter)

Personality and tidbits: If someone enabled Max to do one of his stunts, Leo is the most likely culprit. If nobody enabled Max to do one of his stunts than Leo was likely in a coma because he WILL enable Max’s shenanigans just to see the chaos happen. BFF’s with Barika and thinks Alec is the coolest person ever. He lacks any kind of impulse control and is currently in the lead in the “Get Ragnor to turn them into a frog” competition much to Max’s displeasure. He hates being called Leonard about as much as Max hates being called Maxwell. Culprit number 4 of the Mumbai Incident.

Extra info: Green Lantern backpack with a The Flash keychain, a Batman keychain as well as a Cyborg and Robin sticker. The Green Lantern logo in the middle lights up and can turn into different colors if Leo wants to.

Part two

#AWG #the trainees #I Will have to find a way to tie the different parts together #Or maybe reblog and add the other trainees with each reblog #Still have to figure that one out #But yes #there are too many trainees #And if I knew they were going to play such a big role I would have kept them at FIVE #Menaces #all of them #Foodsies rambles #The trainees list

[positively-peachy-143]

dallas x early bird!reader? ilysm👹

THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST I'M SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG.

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

Just Like Heaven

Characters: Dallas Winston, Early Bird! GN! Reader

Ships: Dallas Winston/Reader

Tags: smoking, light kissing, fluffy stuff :>

Wk: 649

Dallas Winston has never been a morning person, and he never will be. You on the other hand adore mornings. You love the way the light streams in through your window at Buck’s, you love when it illuminates Dallas’ features. You get to see this side of him that no one else sees; peaceful, vulnerable, sleeping Dallas. Who would blame you for watching him? He was beautiful.

This morning the sky is particularly golden, making the strands of his dark hair light up, illuminating it in hues of hazel and gold. 

You take a sip of your coffee; black. It’s bitter, but a wonderful way to wake up. The steam is illuminated in the sunlight, rising in a steady stream from the chipped mug you’d manage to scrounge up downstairs. It had become a routine, making yourself coffee in the bar’s kitchen, maybe even breakfast for you and Dallas. Not this morning though, just coffee is fine for you. 

You’re interrupted from your thoughts when you feel an arm lazily tossed around your waist, hearing a familiar sleepy grumble from the lazy lump of a man beside you. It sounded like maybe he said “morning” in that very Dallas way of his. His voice was low, rumbling and slurred with sleep. It made you smile. 

“Good morning to you too, sleepyhead.” you glance over your coffee at him, the mug no more than a couple inches from your lips. Even if you weren’t actively sipping it, the smell was nice. And you had to protect it from the potential threat of Dallas spilling it again. 

“How’re you even alive right now, it’s so fuckin’ early…” he whined, burying his face in the pillow beside you. So much for admiring his features. 

“Wah wah” you mocked, elbowing him playfully. “You ought to try it, you know. Sunrise is beautiful.” 

“Don’t need a sunrise.” the words are simple, still edged by grogginess. He leaned up, eyes meeting yours. “Have you.” and he’s grinning that stupid grin of his, pressing a lazy, sleepy kiss to your lips. You’re sure he can taste your coffee, and he doesn’t seem to mind. When he pulls away, he looks a bit more awake than before, his grin verging on cocky now. 

“Sap.” you scold, shoving him. Though you can’t smother the smile tugging at your lips. Yes, you think this is your favorite part of your morning. While you enjoy your brief window of alone time, you may enjoy this, watching Dallas slowly wake up and getting that little peek into his vulnerable side, even more. 

“You blame me? Look who I getta wake up to.” he nudged you back, moving to sit up properly. He leaned over the little table next to the bed, picking up a box of matches and a carton of cigarettes. You’re not a big smoker, but in all honesty you don’t mind the smell as much as you used to. It always reminds you of Dally now. 

He perches a cigarette between his lips, striking a match from the matchbox and lighting it. Afterwards, he carelessly tossed both small boxes back onto the table. No point in offering you one, he knows that. 

A comfortable silence settles over you two. You, with your coffee, him, with his cigarette. Maybe not the healthiest breakfast, but you wouldn’t trade it for a five course meal if you had the chance. Something about this… peace, when otherwise chaos followed Dallas everywhere, when the gang would be teasing you, something about this was a welcome reprieve. You watch the sunlight streaming through the smoke wafting off the end of Dallas’ cancer stick, follow that light to his features. His dark eyes, brown hair, all illuminated in a way that makes him seem like some ethereal being sent here just to have this moment with you. Yes, something about this felt just like heaven.

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

Feedback is always welcome!!! tysm for the request!!! :D

#Dallas winston #dallas winston imagine #dallas winston x reader #dallas winston x y/n #the outsiders #the outsiders dally #the outsiders imagine #the outsiders fanfiction #early Bird reader #gn reader

[viperdove-if]

Rozen (he/him) | 30 | Rozen's mother was a mistress, having disappeared after leaving him on the doors of the family estate. As the eldest, Rozen is expected to keep everyone in line. It helps that he's disciplined, tough, and highly duty-driven.

Rozen used to want to be Heir, but has long accepted his place as a combat trainer. He trains MC and has trained most new recruits.

Appearance | Straight black hair that falls to his shoulders and usually tied in a bun. Rozen has light-brown skin and brown eyes with a musular build. At six feet, Rozen is usually seen wearing robes in the house colors.

Asha (he/him) | 16 | Asha does not care for anything involving the family business nor does he care for being the heir. He is considered perpetually disinterested, apathetic and aloof, his boredom fixed by his endless interest in violence. It is almost sadistic how enjoyable he finds the chaos. Other than that, Asha remains mostly silent, seeing rather than speaking. Enjoying the downfall of others from the sidelines.

Asha doesn't feel any particular way about MC. Though he wouldn't be opposed to witnessing MC completely ruin the family legacy. He'd enjoy it, actually.

Appearance | White hair that falls down his back, and dark under-eye circles on pale skin. Asha is usually seen wearing a black cloak. 5'4.

Caspian (they/them) | 25 | Caspian is everyone's favorite person. Flirtatious, arrogant and so full of themself it's almost endearing, Caspian is used to having all eyes on them. Unlike some other siblings, Caspian's mother was simply a drunken night instead of a full-blown relationship. They still keep in contact on occasion, beguiling her of their efforts in dodging endless marriage arrangements from nobles and elites alike. They just want to play the field, for right now.

Caspian would want nothing more to be heir, and through a charming smile and suave words, they're going to get it.

Appearance | 5'11. Caspian has long golden hair that falls down their back and is tied by a single band. Olive skin and long limbs, Caspian's main attraction are their golden hazel eyes. They're usually dressed in the traditionally gender-neutral attire in the House colors, but embellished with jewelry and expensive detailing.

Aurelia (she/her) | 18 | Much different than the rest, Aurelia's mother is married to a prominent business man. While her step-father has no idea that he is not her father, Aurelia is well aware of where she comes from. She's rich, high-class and would want nothing more to make her way to a high position in the Family. And if MC gets in her way, then she'll just have to deal with MC herself.

Appearance | 5'2 | Aurelia has russet brown skin and brown eyes. She has long hair in braids and usually styled into a high ponytail. She's usually seen in long, expensive gowns made of gold and white.

Solana (she/her) | 20 | Wanting to escape the House, Solana works in the military. She wants nothing to do with the illegal ways of the Family, but strives to become Heir in order to change what has been tradition for ages. Solana is determined to take down MC and the House in order to bring new change to the ways of the Estate.

Appearance: 5'4. Solana has golden-brown skin and black hair cut into a sharp bob. She wears the usual Heran military uniform.

Noor (she/her) | 10 | The youngest of the lot, Noor has little understanding of what's going on. She has no idea why MC's mother looks at her with contempt. Noor's mother is currently living in the estate.

Appearance | 4'5. Noor has wavy brown hair and blunt straight bangs. Her skin is tan and her eyes are green. She is usually seen in a plain dress in the house colors.

#info: siblings #character post

[corvusasteris]

character profiles

intro post

Jasper

While in the imperial capital of Melera, you counted him among your closest companions. He is the child of merchants from Thalasseon, the empire to the south, however he has spent most of his life in the Illyosian Empire. For as long as you've known him, he's been obsessed with discovering more about the spirit realm, frequently neglecting work and/or personal relationships while on the trail of some obscure myth.

He's quietly sarcastic and a persistent over-thinker, but fiercely loyal to those he counts among his friends. Your relationship is somewhat complicated by the fact that he believes you to be dead following the incident that prompted your escape from the capital, and vice versa.

appearance - beige skin, shoulder length wavy medium brown hair often tied back from his face, hazel-brown eyes. tall.

notes - his background (either as a spy or scholar) is set depending on whether the MC is a spy or a scholar. precise circumstances around the swift exit from the capital are in the prologue. demiromantic & bi. transmasc.

Leonora

Your first introduction to her was her saving you from certain death at the hands of the Illyosian Empire. She helps you to reconstruct your life in Kemorlen, setting up an alchemists shop next-door as you became the resident mage. You know surprisingly little about her past, besides the fact she was once a mercenary, as evidenced by her skill with a sword.

She's blunt, impulsive and always on the move, creating potions, warding from spirits or starting a fight somewhere, and lives by the policy of acting first and apologising later.

appearance - golden-brown skin, straight black hair often plaited or in a low bun, light brown eyes. tall.

notes - precise circumstances of meeting set by the prologue. bisexual. cis woman.

Augustine

They arrived in town one night, shortly after you did, reportedly from the north east of the empire. Good humoured and quiet, you still can't shake the feeling that they're hiding something. Their skill as a healer is unrivalled, and they quickly become a key part of the team dealing with all the magical oddities of Kemorlen, alongside you and Leonora.

They have a tendency to freeze in a crisis and are slightly squeamish, with a dry sense of humour. They don't trust easily, always seem to be looking over their shoulder, and they don't seem to sleep a great deal.

appearance - light brown skin, dark brown neck-length loosely curly hair, dark brown eyes and freckles. short.

notes - bisexual. non-binary.

Mira

She wanders into town one day, lyre in hand, and entrances the townsfolk with melodic tales of heroes, gods and strange creatures. She has been wandering the roads of Aiolos as a bard after being exiled from her home kingdom of Luria, gathering stories (and gold) from wherever she goes. She also seems to collect small animals, including a tiny mouse she imaginatively calls mouse.

You expect her to move on quickly, but she stays for reasons she doesn't disclose. She's pessimistic and absent-minded, always getting half-way through composing songs before forgetting about them and starting a new one.

appearance - deep brown skin, long curly dark brown hair, dark brown eyes. medium height.

notes - bi and asexual. cis woman.

Theo

They are a spirit that technically speaking you are responsible for bringing back from the underworld. Their memories are faded and patchy from being dead, but a sense that they have been wronged remains, as does a deep-rooted want for revenge. They tell you that they were a ruler, once, of a northern kingdom that they can't recall the name of.

They're awkward, contemplative and restless, unsure of who or what they are in a world that thinks them to be dead, and desperately wanting closure on their old life.

appearance - fair skin, messy short light brown slightly reddish hair, grey eyes. short.

notes - gender selectable either cis male or nb. bisexual.

#interactive fiction #you will not believe the struggles I had with these images #if you have any questions feel free to put them in the askbox #characters: ros #I almost spilled coffee on my friends copy of the odyssey while writing this if you're wondering how my day is going

[its-nwarden]

Ardan’s Descendants

Ardan’s Descendants is a WIP interactive fiction game set in the land of Ardan where the world and nearly every living thing is filled with an energy called aether. You start off as a child contained in a lab within the snow biome (one of the regions in Ardan). After escaping that prison you end up in the desert biome where you’re enrolled in an academy and trained to become a member of an elite task force that’s been assigned the mission of ending the string of kidnappings taking place across all five regions of Ardan.

Having previously been a victim of the kidnappings in your younger years, this mission may help unlock the blurry memories of your past. Who were you before being kidnaped? What happened to the others that were held captive alongside you?

Features:

- Create your MC!- Choose your pronouns and appearance.

- Choose how you manipulate aether- Healing, combat, illusion, and creation. Which will you be more drawn to?

- Pick your weapon- Daggers, guns, sword, bow, or spear, Pick what fits your style.

- Grow your MC’s Personality- Shy, stoic, mean, sarcastic, goofy, etc. You do you!

- Romance one of the 12 ROs- 6 male, 4 female, 2 nonbinary. (you can also just be their friend or maybe their nemesis?)

- Shape your story- Be the hero of your story! (or you can fail your way through life. That’s ok too.) 

This will be my first time writing and coding so as Adele said “Go easy on me~”

DEMO: TBA

The ROs

Dax Ikarus(He/Him)- The Leader of your unit was born in the forest biome in the capitol of Koteva. He has golden brown eyes, coily black hair cut low into a fade, and dark brown skin. Three silver earrings hangs from his left ear.

There’s no denying he’s a great leader who looks after and cares for his squad. He’s quite popular amongst the trainees in the academy. He’s dead set on rising quickly through the ranks and takes his job seriously, but he’s pretty laid back when he’s around friends. Which is why it’s easy to sense he doesn’t seem to like you very much.

Noah Hendrix(He/Him)- The leader of a different unit. Comes from a wealthy and powerful family in the desert biome. The eldest of the Hendrix siblings and best friend of Dax. He has brown dreads with the sides shaved, hazel eyes, and light brown skin.

Known as the life of the party. Whereas Dax is popular, Noah is Infamous. A nonstop flirt and reckless. He may seem a little chaotic, but gets deadly serious when it comes to his siblings.

Naomi Hendrix(She/Her)- Was one of your classmates at the academy and joins your unit after graduating. The middle child of the Hendrix siblings. She has curly brown hair that’s cut into a bob, dark brown eyes, and light brown skin.

The embodiment of nope. Not really interested in the whole task force thing because she rather not be in any line of fire. When she’s not being dragged on missions you can find her at the nearest mall. 

Noel Hendrix(They/Them)- Joins your unit along with Naomi. They’re the youngest of the siblings and are the most likely to take over the family business. They have curly brown shoulder-length hair, dark brown eyes, and light brown skin.

Smart, strategic, and quick on their feet. They’re not much of a fighter but if you go to them with a problem, nine times out of ten they’ll find the solution to it.

Gem Caten(He/Him)- Potentially the first friend you make at the compound. He grew up there and started going to the academy at the same time as you. He changes his hairstyle a lot, but his natural hair is straight and jet black. He’ll usually put it in a half-updo. He has smokey black eyes and pale skin.

He’s a carefree, go-with-the-flow type of guy. His mom is the head of medicine at the compound so he kind of just naturally joined the task force. 

Cameron Nadir(He/Him)- Basically lives at the compound. He’s a junior medic in training when you first meet him. He has dark blue eyes, shoulder-length blonde hair that’s shaved on the right side, and lightly tanned ivory skin. He has tattoos all along his left arm.

People’s first impression of him may be that he’s a bit of a trouble maker, which he is, but he’s also very caring. 

Fay Webster(She/Her)- The team’s gear maker. Gets all the uniforms and weapons mission ready. Born and raised in the desert biome in the city of Nelens. She has fiery red shoulder-length wavy hair, dark green eyes, and a rosy complexion.

She's creative, outgoing, and her mind runs a mile a minute coming up with new ideas. She admires the members of the task force and does her best to supply them with the latest technology.

Audrey Rokk (She/Her)- An ambassador of the water biome. Was born in the snow biome but moved to the water biome for work. She has naturally blonde and long silky hair, but she dyed it blue, light blue eyes, and beige skin.

Honest and hard-working. Unlike the majority of government officials you've met, she's down to earth and seems to care about more than just her own personal gains.

LIMITED DATA

Vin(He/Him)- You met him as a child at the lab. He had ivory skin and dark brown eyes, but his right eye had speckles of blue in it. His straight dark brown hair went a little bit past his shoulders and was pulled back into a pigtail.

You vividly remember how soft-spoken he was. He would cling to anyone in your little group that would allow him to.

Yara(She/Her)- She is the first person you remember coming into contact with before getting to the lab. She had long dark brown braids, dark brown skin, and amber eyes.

You remember her being aloof and unwilling to get involved in any of the other's shenanigans.

Zeke(He/Him)- Was brought to the lab a year after you were. He had short slightly curly black hair, green eyes, and pale skin.

He was always grumpy, but one thing he seemed to enjoy was giving you a hard time.

Iris(They/Them)- An assassin you meet on a mission in the water biome. They have white hair, stormy grey eyes, and very pale skin. 

#Ardan's Descendants #interactive fiction #scififantasy #interactive novel #status: no demo #status: wip

[seedclan]

Allegiances

Four different clangen files are being used for this project. While mostly following SeedClan, the activities of SorrelClan, CoyoteClan, and CherryClan may also be featured at times.

The following rules are in place for these files:

No restarting the file. Save file manipulation will only occur to move exiled cats back in for story, add an adopted parent to an orphaned kit, or remove a leader’s life due to war.

Decision to proceed, do not proceed, or antagonize during events is decided by the cat’s personality type.

As is tradition in these clans, apprentices must pass a trial before they receive their name. An apprentice must survive a solo border, hunting, and training trip (w/ proceed option chosen), as well as assist the medicine cat with their duties to earn their warrior name.

Allow mass extinction events.

Allow leaders to automatically choose a new deputy. This decision will not be manipulated by the player.

Cats choose their own path of life. Allow apprentices, warriors and elders to choose to become mediators/medicine cats. Cats can choose to retire. Cats choose their own mates. Allow affairs and mate switches.

Experienced based apprentice graduation is turned on.

Patrolling is based on Moon Events. Cats who “wish to be alone” will do a solo trip. If the relationship event describes hunting, or desiring to hunt in the cat’s profile, then they will have those respective duties. The exception to this is apprentices for their choice of trial completion.

Same sex cats cannot have kits, but may adopt or get a surrogate (happens if kits are found w/o a mother).

Disabled romantic interactions with former mentors and first cousins.

SeedClan

Leader:

Kestrelstar - dark gray tabby she-cat with dark amber eyes Apprentice: Howlpaw

Deputy:

Honeyeagle - bright ginger tabby tom with amber eyes

Healer:

Fallendapple - long furred speckled light brown she-cat with bright blue eyes

Mediator:

None

Warriors:

Goldeniris: black and dark ginger tortoiseshell she-cat with one gold and one blue eye Apprentice: Softpaw

Quillbeak: long furred pale tabby and white tom with dark amber eyes

Apprentices:

Softpaw: white and golden speckled tom with silver eyes

Howlpaw: black speckled tom with hazel eyes

Queens:

Maplefern - black and white she-cat with yellow eyes. Former CherryClan Medicine Cat. Mother of Bluekit, Hollowkit, and Slatekit.

Kits:

Bluekit - marbled black tabby tom with bright blue eyes.

Slatekit - dark gray spotted tabby tom with yellow eyes

Hollowkit - dark brown and white tom with yellow eyes

Elders:

None

SorrelClan

Leader:

Chivestar - gray tabby tom with hazel eyes

Deputy:

Ochreclaw - pale and brown mottled tortoiseshell she-cat with yellow eyes

Healer:

Icywish: unusually spotted dark brown and white she-cat with pale blue eyes

Mediator:

None

Warriors:

Floodthrift: pale gray tabby and white tom with gray eyes

Cranefang: white she-cat with black patches on her face and dark blue eyes Apprentice: Bumblepaw

Apprentices:

Bumblepaw: light brown and white tom with dark green eyes

Queens:

None

Kits:

None

Elders:

None

CoyoteClan

Leader:

Ryestar: spotted dark gray tom with dark blue eyes

Deputy:

Plummoon: pale gray ticked tabby tom with blue eyes Apprentice: Rainpaw

Healer:

Lakeburn - long furred dark brown tabby tom with blue eyes

Mediator:

Havenbramble: golden and white tom with blue eyes

Warriors:

Aphidsun: beautiful long furred ginger she-cat with a darker colored stripe and blue eyes

Apprentices:

Rainpaw: long furred dark gray tabby she-cat with silver eyes

Queens:

None

Kits:

None

Elders:

None

CherryClan

Leader:

Whisperstar: white she-cat with silver eyes

Deputy:

Quiverwatcher - black, gray, and white cat with silver eyes Apprentice: Icepaw

Healer:

Moonbumble - long furred black, gray, and white she-cat with gray eyes

Mediator:

None

Warriors:

Churro: long furred pale ginger smoke tom with amber eyes

Apprentices:

Icepaw: white tom with icy blue eyes

Queens:

Apricotfeather: long furred dark gray tabby she-cat with green eye. Expecting Churro’s kits.

Kits:

None

Elders:

None

Cats Outside the Clan

Sekhmet: fluffy speckled ginger tom with blue eyes and a red bow collar

Tantomile: silver tabby tom with blue eyes

Tadpolefern: silver tabby tom with hazel eyes. Lost.

#clangen #SeedClan #SorrelClan #CoyoteClan #CherryClan #allegiances #warrior cats

[impossiblescissorspeachpaper]

You Should See The Things We Do

Happy birthday to our lovely @fawnandshadows 💕😊

Please accept this humble TS Reputation inspired fic. It doesn’t hold a candle to your YPMG series, but I know it’s a favourite of yours so I hope you enjoy it all the same.

Elriel. 2.4k words.

Azriel sat brooding in the round leather booth at Rita’s, clutching his tumbler of whiskey, concentrating on not shattering the glass in his palm. His hazel eyes were fixated on the scene unfolding before him on the dance floor, and a sick feeling was roiling in his gut. He took a sip of his drink, attempting to douse the jealous claws of the beast raking against the stoic walls within, but it only seemed to rankle it further.

A sea of graceful bodies writhed and ebbed before him, all sensuously swaying and grinding to the sound of music coming from the dark club they assembled in. Males, females, agender; all beautiful and lively and free. And although there were many attractive creatures he could whet his appetite with this evening, he only had eyes for one.

Try as he might, he couldn’t see past the golden-brown curtain of hair and that deliciously round ass that swayed in the middle of it all.

The silk dress she wore hugged her curves sinfully close and was a blue so deep it almost looked black in dim lighting of the dance hall. Flowing to just below her knees and low cut at the back, he had never seen so much of her creamy skin on display. It made his mouth dry up and his skin feel pulled taut across his bones. She was a vision.

And he wanted nothing more than to be the one she was laughing and dancing with. Tangled up in each other’s bodies and so enthralled with one another that the rest of the world just fell away.

It was no surprise, then, that she had attracted the attention of a young fae male. Jealousy churned in the pit of Azriel’s stomach, and he wanted nothing more than to stomp over to the dancefloor and claim Elain for himself. Run his hands and tongue all over her so everyone knew. Leave his scent lingering all over her pale, delicate skin so there was no mistake that she was his. Caress every sinful dip and swell along her lithe body and—

Fuck.

Stop.

He chastised himself. Breathing heavily through his nose, he focused on stamping those amorous thoughts back down. Glancing back up to the dancefloor however, his mood soured again when he spied a broad hand coming to clasp the dip of her waist. Azriel stilled, his shadows coiling around him, ready to strike should she need his aid. But Elain didn’t seem to mind, allowing the male into her personal space— as if the male was worthy of taking such liberties with Elain, to touch her the way that he was.

Azriel watched the males’ hand snake around, a lean arm gently wrapping around the small of her back. Azriel hated that fucking hand. He wanted to snap that fucking hand. But he wouldn’t. Unless she wished it. Instead, he just let loose a faint growl, sneering.

“Az, you ok?” Cassian asked from beside him.

Azriel reluctantly dragged his eyes away from the dancefloor, glancing at his brother. Cassian had claimed he needed a break from dancing as other revellers kept bumping into his wings, but he knew he had sensed his less than pleasant mood and was just here to keep him company. Mor, Nesta and Elain had barely left the dance floor all night, the females thoroughly enjoying the music that blasted through the club.

Mor bounced around dancing with males and females alike, and Nesta’s icy glare kept all unwanted advances at bay. Elain however had been dancing with a tall, handsome fae for the last twenty-five minutes, and Azriel’s nerves were only fraying thinner and thinner.

Of course, he knew he had no right to be so bothered. She wasn’t, in fact, his. She was a woman unto herself. He had been the one who had disentangled himself from her last Solstice, the one who had left her alone in the darkened hall. He had been the one who had thoroughly fucked up his chances with Elain Archeron. And now here she was, dancing and smiling and laughing with a male that he was certain was much easier to love than he.

It didn’t stop him from wanting to put that faes handsome face through a wall though.

He looked young, no older than thirty-five. Fresh faced in a way only youth could provide, with dark hair and bright, emerald-green eyes. His dark brown skin rippled with lean muscle underneath, and he stood a good eight inches taller than Elain. It still wouldn’t take much to wipe the floor with him though, Azriel was sure.

“I’m fine, Cass,” he finally responded, realising he had been quietly plotting how many ways he could defeat Elain’s dancing partner in the training ring for a ridiculously long time.

“Why don’t you come dance? It’s fun, the girls have been out there all night.”

He huffed humourlessly. He knew they’d been out there all night. He hadn’t been unable to tear his gaze away from her.

“I don’t want to ruin their fun,” he ground out, having trouble keeping the displeasure from his voice as he watched the male glide his hand further down Elain’s voluptuous hips.

Cassian gave him a pointed look as he glanced back at his brother. He wordlessly picked up his glass of whiskey, swung it down in one gulp and stood.

“Come on, stop brooding,” Cassian said, shoving him out of the booth to join the revelry on the dancefloor.

Azriel sighed long-sufferingly, knowing that a drunk Cassian wouldn’t give up until he got his way, and shot down the remainder of his own drink.

Shouldering their way through the crowded dancefloor they came to stand near the sisters and Elain’s… male friend.

When he caught sight of the General and the Spymaster of the Night Court approaching their little circle however he blanched, and excused himself, extricating himself from Elain and hastily retreated into the dark crowd. Azriel smirked in satisfaction at the male’s abrupt departure. Elain didn’t seem to care, her bright smile plastered in place as she instead turned her attention to her older sister.

It didn’t last long however as Cassian approached Nesta, grasping her hand in his large one and spun her around elegantly so they stood face to face, now dancing obscenely to the loud music.

With the mated couple now thoroughly enamoured with each other Elain’s brown eyes slid to the Azriel’s, and for the first time in months and months they seemed to hold an air of… coquettish mischief?

He couldn’t make sense of it; Elain had barely glanced at him over the months of spring. Let alone shown him anything other than polite indifference. This air of playfulness was new. He didn’t know what to make of it.

He swallowed thickly and returned her stare. Wanting to desperately fill the growing silence, he asked lamely, “Are you having a good night?”

Elain’s full lips lifted at the corners imperceptibly at the Shadowsingers’ feeble attempt at conversation, stifling a chuckle at his expense. What was so funny? Dammit, he was making a complete fool of himself.

“I was,” she replied teasingly, “but my dance partner seems to have been frightened off by two hulking Illyrians.”

Azriel huffed, failing to tamper down the smug satisfaction he felt at having interrupted the males’ hand wandering along the wicked curves of Elain’s waist, her hips, around to her ass—

He halted the thoughts before his body reacted. Cauldron, what was wrong with him this evening?

He cleared his throat before responding gruffly, “He scares too easily. You don’t want anyone that isn’t prepared to fight for you, anyway.”

Her eyebrows shot up toward her hairline a fraction, her face looking so open that he couldn’t help but drift closer to her on the crowded dancefloor. She had always had a way of drawing him to her. He had always been unable to resist being tugged into her orbit. Ever since he had met her, something inside him had always purred in delight in her presence.

“No. I don’t.” Her voice was sharper than it had been a moment before, and her gaze bore into his. Clear, brown eyes stared knowingly into his hazel ones, imploring him to realise something. Like she was trying to convey something to him in this moment.

They had always been adept at reading each other with very few words spoken… did she want him to fight for her? Does she even want him, still? She couldn’t possibly know about Rhys’ order on Solstice, could she?

Azriel’s palms started to sweat as he began to feel the swirling effects of all the whiskey he had downed. Shit—

He raked a scarred hand through his ebony hair, tousling up the ends and Elain tracked the movement. Her eyes darkened and followed the path of his hand closely, her pale throat bobbing. Despite her hard words, she had floated closer to him too, her eyes still on the scarred hand that rested on the back of his neck— like she wanted that hand to be hers. Like she wanted to tug him down, fingers grasping his nape, so she could reach the full lips she was now fixatedly studying…

The heat in her gaze made him still, his breath catching in his chest as he stared down at her, standing before him. All around them, bodies swayed and flowed together to the music. But all he could see was Elain. This bright, ethereal glow radiating from her, lighting up his world. Gilded and shining like the sun in the dim room.

He had missed her these past months. Had missed their conversations, her quiet company, her excited chatter when she had acquired new plants for her garden, their stolen glances... heated and full of yearning and need. He lived for those breath-stealing glances. Like the one she was giving him now…

He swallowed thickly before opening his mouth. He had no idea what to say. He closed it again.

What was he to say to her? That he was sorry? That he missed her? That he utterly fucked up on Solstice? That it wasn’t a mistake? That he thought about her all the damn time? That day and night, thoughts of them and her swirled around and around in his mind, constantly reminding him of the devastatingly painful reality that he couldn’t fucking have her?

She was right. She didn’t want anyone that wouldn’t fight for her. She shouldn’t want anyone that would do anything less than beg on their knees for a chance to be even considered by her.

He opened his mouth again, but this time she cut him off.

“I know... I know everything you know, Azriel.”

His eyes widened, a dark brow lifting at the corner, before she continued, “But you don’t know everything I do… and, I’ve Seen how things go…”

She released a breathy little moan. It made his heart stutter and his skin flush. “You should see the things we do,” she finished in a whisper, biting her bottom lip.

He didn’t dare breathe. Didn’t dare reach out to her, no matter how badly he wanted— no needed— to touch her. He couldn’t risk this moment ending, Elain disappearing.

He prompted her to go on. “What is it we do, Elain?” His voice was low, his eyes dark, and it only seemed to entice her more. The sly smile gracing her face widened.

“I’ve Seen it all, Azriel. In the middle of the night… I’ve seen our bodies entangled around one other in passion. I’ve seen you on your knees before me. I’ve seen your beautiful hands pressing up the skin of my stomach, your fingers tracing my collar bones, your lips skirting across my neck…” her whispered words had lulled him into a heady, lust-filled stupor.

His arousal had drifted around them like a mist, shrouding them in their own little bubble amongst the sea of strangers. Her full lips had thoroughly ensnared him as she spoke of such forbidden, delightful things.

“I’ve Seen how it goes. And I know I’m going to be with you, Azriel. So… I’ll take my time,” she murmured.

She had Seen it? His heart felt as if it had halted in disbelief and exploded in euphoria all at once.

“Tell me more,” he whispered in her ear, now standing chest to chest on the dancefloor. He didn’t want her to stop talking. Not now. Not when she was admitting to much of what he had only ever dreamed of himself.

She cocked her head to the side. “Are you ready for it?” she whispered back, before smiling a small, knowing, crooked smile.

“More than you know,” he purred into her hair, inhaling deeply and taking her intoxicating scent deep into his lungs, wrapping its calming essence around his heart.

“We’ll see…” she replied, before turning around in his arms and leaning back into his chest, giving him permission to lean closer. She glanced over her shoulder at him and gave him a sultry little smile, leading him into a dance, swaying her body in time with the music around them.

Grabbing his wrists from where they hung by his sides, she placed his hands upon her waist and guided him to move in time with her. Pressing her back into his front she allowed his hands to wander up and down her sides, sighing as his scarred palms grazed down the thin silk of the dress she had worn. Goosebumps erupted across her flesh.

Raising her arms above her head and reaching back she buried her fingers in the silky strands of his hair at his nape, raking her nails across his scalp languidly. She felt his powerful chest rumble with the purr that manifested deep within him at her touch. She tilted her head back, his broad chest cradling it tenderly in its centre, right above his erratically beating heart.

His large hands slid around to her front, resting on her hip bones and he pressed her flush to his pelvis. Azriel buried his nose in her thick hair and allowed his shadows to swirl around them, the rest of the world fading away. Leaving just the two of them amongst the cocoon of mist and shadow.

She smiled coyly to herself, before melting into him further, pressing their bodies as close as she possibly could whilst remaining upright.

He wasn’t ready for what was to unfold between them, but she was…

Let the games begin.

#happy birthday cait! #elriel fanfiction #elain archeron #azriel #elain x azriel #acotar #azriel shadowsinger #elain #elriel fic #elriel #…ready for it? inspired fic #t writes #my writing #acotar fanfiction

[separatist-apologist]

A Mythical Thing

I'm begging for you to take my hand. Wreck my plans.

Summary: A creature of scales and shadows lurks just beyond the woods. Watching.

Waiting.

For a priestess bathed in light and the shimmering bond that tethers them together.

A moment of impulsivity drives them together, wrapping them in fates golden ribbon.

Azriel will do anything to make her his.

Read More: Chapter 1 | AO3

CW: Dragon monster (more like shifter); past mentions of SA; human men.

-

“Isn’t it cold? Sleeping outside, I mean,” Gwyn asked when Azriel came inside, shaking snow out of his dark hair. Early morning light gilded his hair, shining blue against the black. Gwyn dropped her eyes before he caught her admiring him. It was difficult given how absurdly handsome he was. Did he know? Surely someone must have told him. She was far too nervous given her lack of experience. She’d had crushes before those men came into the house— and never again.

Until now.

She considered the whole mate thing to be akin to a husband, in a weird way. If husbands snatched wives up and just…declared them married, anyway. In the book he’d given her, the princess was arranged to marry a king she thought was a monster, only to learn he was actually very kind. Gwyn could relate to that, though the king in the story was very kind.

And Azriel was kind to her. She still thought about his promise to lay the men who’d killed Catrin at her feet, still grappling with it. She’d been with him for three days and four nights and ever since he’d given her the knife, Gwyn wondered what it would be like to go back. 

She’d always wanted to. Banishment meant she couldn’t see Catrin. Her sister was forced to rest in the same place that had hurt her and Gwyn wasn’t allowed to see her. Not without risking the ire of the leaders, of the men who had pleaded and fussed so hard to have her removed.

Gwyn’s eyes turned back to the biscuits she was making. If Azriel went with her, no one would say a word. He was terrifying and not just because he was an imposing man. He radiated a soft, shivering violence, a coldness that no amount of light could warm. She could picture his hazel eyes falling on that old house.

She could picture him dragging those men out and killing them in front of the wives who had declared her a temptress. It was wrong. Ugly. The sort of thing that held her back as a priestess, at any rate. 

Forgiveness, the temple mother had chided again and again. You will never have peace if you cannot find forgiveness.

Working her dough with her knuckles, Gwyn wondered if she was the sort of person who would never have peace. And if she was, why couldn’t she have retribution? 

Azriel stepped into the little kitchen, his long fingers sliding over the sage she’d hung from the ruffled yellow-curtained window. There was no space to move when he came in, his presence imposing. Her heart pounded with a mix of fear and anticipation. Azriel, she’d learned, had no intention of touching her unless he thought she might be receptive to it. His fingers might brush the back of her hand, might caress her cheek before bed, or occasionally curl around her shoulders but nothing more. 

She was grateful for it. 

“It’s not cold to me. Do you need help?” he asked her. Gwyn’s baking skills were rudimentary but improving thanks to the cookbook Azriel had brought her the day before. She wanted to go into the town with him and see the others, but that meant climbing on his back to fly and she wasn’t sure she was ready for that. 

“Um,” she breathed, blinking in an attempt to clear her head. Azriel smelled good—heady and spicy, smoky and masculine heat that pooled in her stomach. She looked up, head tilted given his height and immediately wished she hadn’t. Gwyn’s brain screeched to a grinding halt. He was so handsome. 

“I’ll wait at the table, then,” he murmured, misunderstanding her fluster. As he walked away, Gwyn braced herself against the sink for a moment, trying desperately to get a grip on her runaway heart. 

Gwyn turned to study him. He’d caught her doing this before, holding himself impossibly still as if that made it easier. One of his long legs was stretched out in front of him, both encased in dark black pants. As he always did, his muscular chest was housed in a black tunic that lacked sleeves. 

Sliding her biscuits into the oven, Gwyn made her towards him, still eyeing the ribbon of azure against his brown skin. Like he always did when he noticed her looking at his hands, he slid them beneath the table just out of view. 

“What happened?” she asked, knowing full well Azriel understood what she meant.

His face darkened, eyes stormy. “Fire.”

“Your–”

“Human fire,” he corrected quickly. Gwyn pulled her chair closer, deciding to be brave. Azriel tracked her every movement, his pulse jumping rapidly in his throat. “When I was a boy my mother and I were held by humans.”

She reached beneath the table for his broad, large hand and brought it back up. He let her, not moving at all as she skimmed her fingers over his skin. 

“They hurt you?”

He cleared his throat. “It was a long time ago.”

She took a breath, thumb brushing the blue scales that painted the edge and covered nearly all of his pinky and thumb. 

“Sometimes I think there is no amount of time that will ever make me forget,” she murmured. His fingers curled, lacing through her own much smaller hand. His calloused palm was so at odds with the softness of the rest of him. Even that ribbon of color made to look like scales felt more like skin compared to when he was in his dragon form. 

It was daring, she thought, when he lifted her hand to his mouth, just like the feather soft kiss he offered was an incredible show of affection given how careful he’d been. She wondered if it was for her or for him and decided she didn’t care. Instead, Gwyn offered him a tentative smile, one he returned without hesitation.

If Azriel was lovely with a scowl, he was breathtaking in his pleasure. She yanked back her hand before she did something she couldn’t walk back, like scoot closer and offer him a kiss against his mouth. That seemed like too much given they were still strangers and that Gwyn had no idea how to do those sorts of things. 

“Do you want to know what I’ve learned?” he asked her, reminding her that had been talking before that kiss. Gwyn nodded, too breathless to speak. 

“You don’t need to forget–”

“Only forgive, I know,” she grumbled, rising from her chair. 

He scoffed from behind her. “Forgive? That’s not what I was going to say. Some things are not forgivable.”

Her steps stilled. Gwyn looked over her shoulder, heart hammering again. Azriel hadn’t moved, his anger burning icy cold against his lovely features. She was certain he had never forgiven the cruelty that had happened to him. Their eyes met.

“Then what?”

“You don’t need to forget. Or forgive,” he added fiercely. “Only find peace, whatever that looks like, for yourself. Not other people.”

“And how did you find peace, Az?”

A self-satisfied smile, the kind that ought to have filled her with fear and dread, slid over his face. “Retribution.”

She nodded, biting her bottom lip.

“I’m starting to think that’s the only way for me, too,” she whispered. 

“You only have to say the word.”

Gwyn was starting to think she was going to take him up on it sooner rather than later.

And instead of frightening her, the thought excited her.

AZRIEL:

“Spread your legs,” he ordered, watching his mate, ankle deep in the snow, immediately comply. He smothered a smile. “Spine straight.”

“Bossy,” she muttered beneath her breath, doing as he asked all the same. He couldn’t help himself then, catching the way her eyes softened when she saw him. She liked to see him smile, a foreign thing for a male like Azriel. There’s been very little worth smiling at in his life and as consequence, he knew he came off more serious than he meant to. He couldn’t help that.

Though he was trying a little. He could be softer for his mate. Azriel reminded himself that didn’t mean he had to be soft for the rest of the world. His mate was lovely and kind and nervous and he wanted her to feel safe so he smiled when felt like it and let her see, if only to disarm her. 

Gwyn, dressed in well-fitted black pants and a shirt he couldn’t see beneath a fur coat, was the perfect student. Having trained much of Cassian’s army, Azriel reflected that Gwyn was the kind of soldier Azriel often hoped for but rarely got. She might call him names under her breath but she still did what she was told.

Then again, Gwyn didn’t seem interested in battling him for dominance like so many of the other dragons did. They bristled under his authority, always snapping their jaws and spreading their wings in challenge. Azriel didn’t have to worry about that given Gwyn had no wings and despite the knife she was plunging into the pig carcass he’d hung for her, had no desire to fight.

Him, at any rate. 

Sweat dripped from her pretty face, the salt mingling against the sweetness of her scent. She looked back at him, dagger buried to the hilt between the pigs ribcage. He had her practice this way to get a feel for killing a human male. She needed to know the force behind each movement if she wanted to do real damage.

Needed that muscle memory given Gwyn was so lithe. Even humans, frail as they were, could overpower one of their females easily. He didn’t intend to let her go alone but Azriel wasn’t stupid, either. He couldn’t keep her hidden in his wings forever. 

“How was that?” she asked him breathlessly.

“Slow,” he said honestly. “Here, try me.”

She hesitated. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Azriel laughed, head thrown back at the thought. It would take her years, decades, even, to hurt him. He just assumed it was a joke until he saw her teal eyes narrowed with irritation. He smothered his amusement quickly. “You won’t hurt me. Do the same thing you just did to me.”

“You’re rude,” she informed him, ripping out her blade with effort.

Azriel didn’t apologize. “If you can best me, I have no business training you.” After all, they’d only begun that morning. “Now stab me, Gwyn.” With her perfect stance, Gwyn moved towards him so slowly it felt like she was teasing him. Still, Azriel let her, if only to give her the sense of how she’d move around a larger body. He caught her wrist only when the blade pointed at his ribs, not wanting to damage his clothing. She was breathless, eyes wide.

“I didn’t think…”

“I’m not going to let you actually stab me,” he murmured. “The practice is good.”

“You're much bigger than they were,” Gwyn murmured, capturing his attention fully. The males. Azriel was dying for more information, for a name or a place or anything that might point him in the right direction. Too afraid to ask, given they hadn’t been together a full week, Azriel kept his questions to himself.

“Oh?”

Eyes faraway, he didn't think she even realized what she was saying. “I haven’t seen them in fifteen years…they must have been in their thirties. 

Azriel clenched and unclenched his jaw. Human ages meant very little to him and yet fifteen years ago…fifteen years ago… “You were a child?”

Her eyes snapped to his face, wide and filled with fear. She was paying attention now, if her too-pale skin was any indication. 

“How old are you?” he pressed, trying so hard to keep his hatred from scaring her. 

“It’s not important—”

“It’s important to me,” he disagreed. 

“How old are you?” she shot back, as if there were anything Azriel wouldn’t readily tell her.

“Five centuries,” he replied, watching as some of the color returned to her face. “I have been alive a very long time.”

She bit her bottom lip. Tendrils of her coppery brown hair fluttered in the wind, blowing over her lovely face. Most of it was hidden behind the fur lined cape and Azriel was softened momentarily at the sight. He lifted his hand, brushing the strands behind her ear. 

“Have you been alone this entire time?” she asked, crunching just a hair closer. He swallowed. Every day she did this. Inching towards him with her curious eyes, letting him touch her face. Parting her lips, unaware of how badly he wanted to taste her, to touch her, to smell her. He dropped his hands to stifle the urge to grab at her. 

“Most of it,” he agreed. He had his friends, but since his mother died Azriel had been too afraid to love anything. Truly love it, at any rate. Even there, peering down at her, Azriel had the sense that Gwyn would be very easy to harm. 

She pressed her hand flat against his chest. Azriel’s eyes went wide, nostrils flaring. He didn’t know how to handle this, not when she was so close and he wanted her so badly. He merely held himself utterly still, violently afraid if he moved he’d push her into the snow and cover her body with his own. 

“I’m sorry,” she told him with so much earnest sweetness Azriel had to choke back the urge to snarl. Not at her—never her. The world could not be trusted with her. How, he wondered, had she managed to hold on to her innate sense of goodness when he had not? Was it wrong to teach her to kill when he ought to be asking her how she’d survived without that same creeping cold that lingered in his veins?

“I—”

Flapping wings in the distance drew his attention skyward and without thinking, he pushed her behind him, stifling his own thoughts. Azriel took one step, shifting without any thought but not harming Gwyn

“Az—”

The bellowing dragon overhead had come for blood. Well-deserved, he thought wryly, adopting a defensive stance. Cassian was pissed if his red eyes were any indication. The beast overhead plopped violently to the ground, shaking it as he stalked forward. One moment the dragon was there, gnashing teeth and curling talons and the next Cassian the male was coming towards him.

“ASSHOLE!” he roared, hair blowing in the wind. “I got stabbed because of you! Answer for yourself!”

Cassian’s eyes slid towards Gwyn who was peeking from behind his wing. She gripped the edge, unaware of how personal that was. How good it felt. Azriel shuddered and Cassian shook his head.

“Dumb motherfucker,” he snarled, shaking his head. “You’re not the only one who had a mate down there.”

Azriel huffed. He didn’t give a fuck about Lucien or Lucien’s mate. Cassian understood, crossing his arms over his armored chest. “My mate was down there too and I still upheld my end. You left.”

Azriel shifted, his guilt outweighing his desire to keep Cassian from looking too closely at Gwyn. “You have a mate?”

Cassian reared forward and without a word, slammed his fist into Azriel’s gut. Gwyn screamed from behind him, unaware violence was how Cassian and Azriel solved all their fights. This was deserved, even when Cassian’s heavy, furious fist hit him twice.

“One more,” Cassian snarled, hitting Azriel so hard his knees buckled and he slammed to the snow.

“She was too close,” he gasped. “You would have done the same thing.”

“I would have come back.”

“Did you find him?”

The prince. Azriel pushed himself back to his feet with some help from Gwyn, jerking his head towards his home mere yards away.

Cassian rolled his eyes.

“Yes. More stupidity. He’s been ruling the humans—”

“The king is a dragon?” Gwyn breathed, draping his arm over her shoulder while Azriel worked to catch his breath. 

“Well, not anymore. He’s dead. Rhysand is king—and a dragon…and mated, though…” Cassian winced. “She doesn’t like him.”

“Smart,” Azriel replied, ignoring the ache in his gut to let Cassian stomp snow all over his dark wood floor. “And your mate?”

Cassian glanced towards Gwyn, again. “Is human. I’m courting her—”

Azriel snorted a laugh. “Let me know how that goes.”

“Better than kidnapping,” Cassian replied quietly, now directly in front of Gwyn. She cowered back, reaching for the wooden archway behind her. Azriel forced himself upwards, grabbing

Cassian by the shoulder. Let his friend think him too aggressive, too domineering rather than scare his mate. 

“Too close,” Azriel warned, his voice rumbling. Cassian stepped back a healthy distance, still staring at her. Gwyn, predictably, had eyes only on the ribboning red of Cassian’s scales, set against the brown of his skin. 

“Are you well?” Cassian asked her, unaware his hulking form was doing the opposite of putting Gwyn at ease.

“I’m fine,” she assured him, tucking her long hair behind her ears. 

“I can take you back,” Cassian added quickly, not looking to Azriel at all. Azriel went utterly still. It was a fair thing to offer and ask and yet he hated Cassian for it. He’d flown over that temple, with its gates and walls, the night before. If she went in, he didn’t think she’d ever come back out. 

“I’m fine,” Gwyn murmured, hardly looking fine at all. Cassian clearly agreed and Gwyn, as if realizing she might be forced to leave anyway, too a measured step towards him. She didn’t realize they could scent her fear. “Maybe you could bring your mate up? Or I could meet her?”

“Tell her how wonderful having one of us for a mate is?” Cassian asked dryly. “Elain already tried that with the princes mate. It went predictably bad.”

That interested Azriel. “How so?”

“He took his pants off, for starters,” Cassian grumbled. “I guess he figured since it worked for Lucien, but…”

“Lucien is wild,” Azriel said with half a laugh. “Did the human murder him?”

“She took him to put on pants and told him very politely she was engaged. He is not taking it particularly well. If he learns your tactics he might kidnap her, too.”

Azriel shrugged. “Has he tried not being such a bastard?”

Cassian laughed, turning back to his friend. “I’ll tell him you suggested it. It’s just new.” He looked back to Gwyn. “We’ll have to establish some rules or things will get out of hand quickly.”

“I’d like to help,” she said quickly, taking another step. “If it’ll keep other women safe, I want to help.”

Cassian glanced to Azriel who caught it from his periphery. He was too busy staring at Gwyn, well aware he was wearing his emotions all over his face. His mate was brave. Did she know? Azriel nodded.

“Of course. I will see it done.”

And that was that.

GWYN:

Gwyn stared at the parchment. “So do you take a vote?” she asked, looking at the notes she’d written that would govern human women. The dragons would have to obtain some form of consent and the fact that she’d written it down had deeply disturbed Azriel. Ever since she’d said it, he’d been pacing back and forth in front of the lit fireplace, his expression shifting from concern to rage over and over. 

He wasn’t terribly chatty.

“Az?”

That drew him back.

“Hm?”

“Do you take a vote?”

“Oh. No, the prince has final say. We will merely submit this to him and hope he agrees it's necessary. It’ll be up to him to enforce it.”

“You mean you?”

“No—”

“Where is he?” she interrupted, looking around the room with exaggeration. “Where has he been?”

“Ruling the humans, apparently,” Azriel grumbled. “I would enforce it without your rules.”

He snatched the paper from the coffee table between them, hazel eyes scanning the document with obvious irritation. “Some of this is common sense.”

“Like what?” she challenged. 

“Asking to touch. Obtaining consent—”

“You kidnapped me,” she reminded him pointedly. “You didn’t exactly ask.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “I…I said I would take you back.”

“What if another dragon wouldn’t? What if he decides to keep his mate until she accepts—how do you accept, anyway?”

Azriel looked as if he wanted to slide into the ground. “We don’t…we don’t need to worry—”

“Tell me,” she asked breathlessly, certain it must be sexual if he was so nervous. He’d stopped pacing, at least.

“You would offer me something to eat,” he mumbled, eyes fixed on a place just behind her. 

“Is that all?”

His features colored the loveliest shade of pink. “We would…”

Gwyn could handle hearing him say it. “Have sex,” she supplied. 

His eyes snapped to her face, filled with enough heat to make her whole body ache, if only a little. What would it be like, to be with a man as an equal? For him to care about her experience? She didn’t count that first time—she hadn’t asked for it, hadn’t wanted it, and so it didn’t technically mean anything…but Gwyn knew too much about how sex worked and how it felt. Before she’d been given that education, she’d heard women talk. Heard how they giggled, how they seemed to enjoy it. There was fun to be had with the right man. Azriel, who hunched to make himself seem smaller than he was, probably wouldn’t flip her over and invade her body while she asked him not to.

But maybe she needed rules for that, too? 

“And then it's done?” she asked instead. Knowing before hand would help.

“There is a bite.”

“Oh,” she breathed, aware she was whispering. “What kind of bite?”

He looked miserable again. Opening his mouth, Azriel’s canines elongated, sharpened into something that could absolutely pierce through her skin with little effort. He was still so beautiful, so utterly, devastatingly lovely, that Gwyn didn’t flinch back like she thought she ought to.

He retracted his teeth and arched his neck to show her the tendons and veins just beneath. “I will pour venom into your body and bind our lives.”

“Oh.”

“There is no rush,” he amended hastily, perhaps unaware that he’d said I will. To him, it was a certainty, merely a matter of time. To Gwyn, though…she eyed him for a moment.

“I would like to practice beforehand.”

He blinked, his expression smoothing into nothing. “There is no rush.”

“Yes, you mentioned that,” she agreed. “It’s just—” It’s just someone did this to me once and I’m afraid. “I don’t have any experience.”

He looked at her, brow furrowing. “You are worrying about the wrong thing. Right now—”

“Do you?”

He sighed with exasperation, gesturing around. “There are precious few of our females left and their families guard them very carefully.”

Oh. She’d just assumed, with his pretty face…

Relief rushed through her. He knew what she did or less, depending on how much talking his kind did. His expectations would not dwarf her. Heart hammering, Gwyn decided to ask one last question. Too bold, maybe, and yet…and yet she wanted to know. “And would you guard your daughter carefully?”

A bolt of yearning slammed against his features. “I would,” he rasped, as if he hadn’t dared to let himself imagine such a thing before. “Any child,” he added. “They’re rare…precious.”

“Priestesses are not allowed,” she began to explain. Azriel’s eyes were still on her, roaming her features as if he could see beneath her skin.

“But you were a child when they took you?”

She shook her head, well aware Azriel had been trying to get this information out of her ever since she’d let it slip outside the day before. “Thirteen—” she ignored his indignant suck of air—

“Is an adult—”

“Says who?” he thundered softly. “Our thirteen year olds can scarcely hold a sword.”

“Well, no one asks women–”

“Girls,” he said firmly. “Children.”

She blinked the urge to cry. No one had ever called her that. They’d looked at her with accusation, had declared her and Catrin temptresses, grown women. Gwyn could still remember the humiliation as both men and women alike picked apart how her and Catrin dressed, how they wore their hair, how they ran about the woods without the proper underthings. And Gwyn had tried once to explain the petticoats and shifts didn’t come in their sizes and no one had told them, that when they ran through the woods barefoot, hair unbound, it wasn’t to lure unsuspecting men. It was merely just the state of things. Ribbons were expensive and easily lost and the earth felt nice between her toes.

When the men had come, they’d swept toys off her and Catrins shared bed. Gwyn still remembered the precious doll Catrin cherished, shattered to bits against the unforgiving wood. How the physician had commented on her lack of body hair with wonder in the aftermath, noting the blood that streaked down her thighs. 

And declared her a woman all the same. They all had. Grown. Women should know better.

“Men are easily tempted,” she murmured without meaning to. “They can’t control themselves.”

Another suck of air dragged her back to reality. “You have been in my bed for nearly a week,” Azriel whispered, his voice as cold as death itself. 

She didn’t dare look at him as she challenged, “And you sleep outside to keep yourself—”

“To keep you safe. So you don’t have to worry about me coming in. You know where I am—you can see me.”

She dared to look at him then. Azriel didn’t come any closer, practically an ocean between them. She wished he would bridge it, would come towards her just as much as she was glad he didn’t.

“Tell me their names,” he added. “Every single one. Write them down.”

She looked at the blank parchment just before her. “And you’ll what–”

“Kill them,” he said with utter finality. “For treating my mate like…” 

He didn’t finish. Instead he asked, “They touched you?”

She nodded, back to looking at anything but him. 

“And you asked them to stop?”

“Yes,” she managed.

A soft growl rumbled between them. He didn’t know all of it and maybe he didn’t need to. Maybe it was enough to just know it had happened and she still felt the effects in her bones. The attack but more than that, the loss of her sister, of a piece of her soul she couldn’t get back.

“They killed my sister,” she told him, because it felt good for someone to understand how she felt. Maybe he didn’t know what that loss was like, but he knew it was wrong. For fifteen years,

Gwyn felt like she’d been carrying that around all alone, dragging it like a sack behind her. 

She heard his boots on the floor coming towards her. Azriel kneeled, putting himself beneath her, head inclined until she was forced to look down at him. 

“They killed my mother,” he said, reaching a hand to cup her face. She let him rub his thumb over her skin, touching her like she was something infinitely precious. 

“And you punished them for it?”

“I killed them,” he whispered, eyes searching her own. “All of them, even the ones who didn’t help but knew. No one helped her when they could have. They all looked the other way.”

“Sometimes I think if someone had spoken up, it would have made things worse,” she whispered, leaning into his hand until his fingers curled in her hair. 

“For you? Or for them?” he questioned. 

“We don’t have claws and scales, Az. Can I be angry if the women protected themselves over me?”

“Yes,” Azriel replied. “I want to take you to the village so you can see…so it’s not just me telling you this. My people…our people…they would rather die than see a child harmed.”

“They didn’t see me as a child,” she reminded him, letting him reach for the other side of her face. He held her for a moment, drawing just a little closer.

“They did not want to see a child. And I will kill them all for it, if only so you can go back home.” “I want to see her again,” Gwyn said, wrapping her arms around Azriel’s neck. “I want to see her so bad. I feel like I was punished twice when they sent me away.”

She wept against him, grateful when his hands left her face to tug her gently from the chair to hold in his lap. Azriel’s grip was tight, his large hands pressed against her back and tangled in her hair. She felt his lips press to her scalp, soothing softly. 

It was care, something she’d been denied for so long. She shook against him even as she reveled in it, confused by her reaction. She didn’t want him to let her go but couldn’t stop her tears, either. He didn’t move, was practically granite save for the softness of his hands, the sweetness of his mouth. 

“I will take you back,” he whispered when her tears faded to hiccups. “Even if you don’t want me to kill them. I will take you back.”

Gwyn looked up at him, running her fingers over his stubbled cheek. She was careful as she drew him down with a feather soft touch. Dark lashes fluttered over his bright eyes, his lips parted to see what she would do.

Gwyn kissed the corner of his mouth. “You would terrify them,” she whispered, unable to stop herself from taking those same careful fingers and tracing the line of his bottom lip. Azriel let her without doing anything more, still holding her against his muscular frame.

“Do I terrify you?”

Face swollen, eyes heavy and still she smiled. “You?”

He smiled too, his affection filling the aching cavern in her chest. She’d forgotten it existed, having lived with it so long. Now, though, she was being buoyed from the darkness by warm light, her head surfacing for air after an eternity without it. 

Too bold. The entire moment was too bold.

And yet.

“Will you come to bed with me tonight?”

He went still.

“No touching,” she added, wondering if she’d scared him, too.

“I’ll do whatever you ask of me,” he replied, resting his chin against her forehead. 

She smiled.

Maybe she ought to rethink her rule on kidnapping after all.

AZRIEL: 

He didn’t believe her until she opened the bedroom door with those blotchy, sad eyes, and invited him inside. Lingering in the hall, Azriel waited for her to change her mind. Gwyn beckoned, vanishing into the bathing chamber. He didn’t know what to do. Up until that moment, Azriel had never once slept in a stitch of clothing. He didn’t have anything to sleep in. She had nightdresses and he had…he had his regular clothes. While he waited, Azriel unlaced his boots and then sat at the edge of the bed and waited, hoping she wouldn’t think he was strange. 

He needed this moment to be perfect so she’d invite him back. 

Gwyn stepped out smelling of lavender and mint, dressed in a pretty yellow night dress so sheer he had to avert his eyes. He didn’t think she realized the way the firelight illuminated the fabric, all but baring her body to him. He shifted.

This was a mistake. She’d just confided in him and he wanted to undress her, to how her how it ought to have been between them. How it would be between them. 

“You don’t want pajamas?”

“I’ll sleep outside,” he said abruptly, standing before he could change his mind. Azriel was halfway to the door when Gwyn, ever perceptive, asked a question. 

“Do you not have pajamas?”

He couldn’t look at her, hand on the doorknob. “No.”

“That’s okay. I uh…sleep how you normally would.”

He exhaled softly. “I will not.”

“I was thinking,” she began, her words taking on a strange cadence. It was as if she’d rehearsed them. He turned slowly, noting the flush creeping up her neck. “You said you’d do whatever I asked?”

He swallowed, barely daring to breathe.

“And if you don’t have any sleeping clothes, maybe you’d um…maybe you’d take off your regular clothes and I could just look?”

He was certain he hadn’t heard that right. “I–look?”

She nodded, twisting the ends of her hair in her hand. “Yeah. And um…maybe touch? If you’re okay with that?”

Azriel had never been more okay with anything in his life, though he was nervous to admit it. He almost told her no, that they ought to wait another night when his clothes still weren’t damp from her tears. Studying her, Azriel saw that flushing embarrassment spreading over her collarbone and down her chest. If he told her no, would it feel like rejection?

He nodded, reaching for his tunic and pulling it over his head before she had a chance to say anything else. Let her see this, the expanse of his torso and the scales against him, before she let him go any further. Already, Azriel was half hard and coming alive beneath her gaze. She might want to look and touch but he was not immune to his pretty mate standing in a sheer dress mere feet from his half naked form.

“Do I please you?” he dared to ask her when she didn’t say anything. Gwyn bit her bottom lip, the scent of her arousal wafting through the room. He was going to die. She was killing him and she didn’t even know it.

“And the rest,” she whispered with a steadying breath.

Azriel didn’t let her see how terrified he was. He’d never know, though, how he managed to control the tremble of his hands in order to get that button undone or how he didn’t collapse to his knees when he pushed his pants over his hips. Gwyn sucked in a breath, her eyes immediately zeroing between his legs. She’d seen his wings, he thought with too much pleasure. Why did his cock surprise her?  

Time stretched over eternity as she studied him, unaware he could scent her desire and her timid, mingling fear. It wasn’t like that first day when she’d been drenched with it. Tonight it felt soft, like anticipation and uncertainty.

He said nothing when he grew tired of standing there. She’d said touch, hadn’t she? Azriel padded to the bed, pulled the blankets back, and laid himself out on the sheets. “I cannot sleep standing up,” he told her, patting the space beside him.

“Of course,” she whispered, tripping over the edge of the rug as she moved to join him. He smiled, unable to help himself and as consequence, she smiled too. He flung out one arm, drawing her against his chest when she came to him. Gwyn immediately twisted to her stomach, propped up on one elbow to look at him. 

Dragging one finger over the blue of his scales, she asked, “Why aren’t they rough?”

“One of life's little mysteries,” Azriel replied, delighting in another of her smiles. “Perhaps the gods knew my mate would not appreciate my irritating plating cutting up her sheets.”

“That’s true,” she agreed. “I would make you sleep in a tree.”

She tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. “I’d do it gladly.”

“I’m starting to think so. Are you really not cold out there?”

“I prefer to be in here with you,” he admitted, sucking in a very soft breath when her hand trailed down his chest. “But I would sleep outside if it made you feel safe.”

“Do you want to know something wild?”

“Yes,” he whispered, eyes fluttering shut as she mapped out his chest with slow, soft touches. 

“I used to imagine what it would be like to walk back into that village. I was convinced I would never go.”

He swallowed a groan when a finger circled his nipple. “And now?”

“I think about going with you at my back and how no one would be able to stop me. I don’t feel afraid.”

“My mate is brave,” he murmured, opening his eyes to look at her. Gwyn was utterly still, both hands on his stomach.

“Brave?” she asked him, head cocked. As if the thought had never occurred to her. Azriel leaned forward on his elbows and kissed each corner of her mouth, just as she had done to him earlier.

“Yes,” he agreed, trailing his thumb and forefinger beneath her chin so she had to look at him. “Brave.”

“I–”

“Survived,” he whispered fiercely. He would hear her say nothing else. “I’m sorry the humans can’t see you for what you are.”

She pressed her forehead to his. “And what am I, Az?”

Azriel knew he might ruin this moment between them. Tilting her face until her lips were mere inches from his own, he murmured, “Brutal,” before offering her a feather soft kiss. “Vicious,” and another, “Beautiful,” and another, “Soft—”

“Az,” she whispered, unaware of how that one little word speared through him, filling him with undeniable heat.

“My mate,” he added with one last little kiss. He could have done that all night, mouth to mouth, her hands still braced along his body. He rubbed his thumb over the pretty pink of mouth before laying back on the bed. 

“You’re trying to distract me.”

Azriel scoffed. “From touching me?”

“Yes,” she agreed, though her voice didn’t sound so sure. He gestured the long length of him, ignoring the way his cock was fully erect and bobbing up his abdomen. Her fingers were close enough to tease and some too depraved part of him hoped she wanted to touch that, too. 

He huffed a laugh. “Well, by all means. Continue with your exploration.”

“Is it weird?” she asked him, fingers running the ribboning blue against his abdomen.

“No,” he admitted, his voice gruffer than he would have preferred. “It feels good.”

“Everyone is too afraid to touch the terrifying dragon?” she tried to tease, her vice just a little too breathless to be believable.

“Terrifying?”

“When Cassian came yesterday, I thought you were going to rip out his throat,” she admitted, fingers narrowly avoiding his cock for his thigh. Azriel groaned softly all the same, that phantom touch imprinted against his skin.

“Cassian is like a brother to me,” he admitted. 

“He punched you.”

“It was a brotherly punch.”

“Is that so? Are you two actual brothers or–”

“I chose him as my brother. Or, I guess he chose me, really. Cassian is a lot friendlier–” her giggles punctuated his words. Gwyn slid between his legs, still touching his legs. She prodded the muscle of his inner thigh, sending his hip grinding upwards at nothing at all. He saw her startled surprise, her lips puckering into an oh. 

“I liked him,” she whispered.

“Good. You will see a lot of him,” Azriel whispered, looking up at the wood planked, pointed ceiling to distract himself. He could feel precome beading the tip of his cock and was so punishingly erect he could feel his heart jumping in the base. Gwyn was utterly unaware and blissfully touching his shins, her nails scraping along the dark hair that covered the skin. 

“And his mate? Do you know her?”

Eyes half lidded, body absurdly tight, Azriel hummed in response. He had no idea what she’d just asked him. All he knew was if she stopped touching him, he’d fall to a million pieces, would float away to nothing. 

“I think it might be nice, if she’s going to come live up here. I could invite her over, she could help me with my list—”

Gwyn’s hands were on his other leg now, touching, touching, touching. He tried so hard to swallow the moan when once again she reached his muscled thigh, digging her fingers into the skin to feel what lay beneath. She would be the death of him.

What a way to go.

“Hopefully she knows how to cook,” Gwyn continued, unaware Azriel was having a very quiet out of body experience. “Because the biscuits are getting worse—” Her fingers curled around the base of his cock so unexpectedly that Azriel jumped nearly ten feet in the air. The two flew apart, Gwyn from fear and him from shock.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

“You’re fine,” he panted, certain he must look like a wild animal, back pressed against the dark wood headboard. “Do it again.”

She crept towards the bed again, gingerly crawling back between his parted legs. Azriel wanted to touch her, thought it was a crime she was still dressed and yet had the sense that she’d feel better if she knew what to expect.

“Tell me about the biscuits,” he groaned when her hand came back to his cock. 

“They tasted like baking soda,” she said softly, just holding him with her soft hand. “I was thinking—”

He groaned when she dragged her hand up the length of him. She was still talking about how bad her baking was, exaggerating when in truth, Azriel hadn’t even noticed the taste that morning. In fairness, she’d been looking at him with her bright teal eyes and he’d been, in turn, looking at her mouth. Food was a mere suggestion to him at that point. 

Azriel was trying desperately to listen to her. He could see she was still talking, lips moving as she stared down at his cock and the weeping tip coating her hand in fluid. He pretty sure she was viewing the entire experience like an experiment when Azriel was half certain he was in love. Maybe that was the lust that had settled in his brain but had there ever been anything more beautiful than her lithe, small hand gripping him, her fingers unable to close around the shaft?

Gwyn’s hair tumbled down her back and he swore her eyes were a shade darker from her own desire. She was enjoying this, if only a little. 

“Gwyn,” he rasped, unsure how to even tell her what was happening. Every inch of him was painfully tight and on the verge of unspooling. “Gwyn, please—”She tightened her hand, twisting over his head as she turned to look at him. It was too much. HIs hips bowed off the bed and Azriel came in her hand, covering her skin in his release. He couldn’t help himself, fucking her hand and the air as he gasped loudly for a lungful of air. She rode him through before pulling away and darting for a rag in the bathroom. 

He reached for her, wanting to repay the favor. Gwyn shook her head. “Not tonight, I…I just wanted to see.”

“There is no rush,” he murmured, taking the damp cloth out of her hands and wiping up himself. It was the least he could do, all things considered. 

“I want to go slow,” she told him. “Touching you was helpful.”

“Oh?”

She curled back against his body, pulling the blankets over them before she pressed her cheek to his chest.

“I was always told men can’t control themselves. I just wanted to see if you could.”

“Told that by who?” he demanded, brushing hair off her face.

“Everyone. Men lose control—”

“Even a dog respects the word no,” he told her. She sighed.

“Because they’re taught, which we’re doing when we braid our hair up and—”

“So if your hair was down, all males would lose themselves?” he asked, thinking of how she’d only worn her hair down since he’d seen her. “This happens every time one of your females takes down her hair?”

“Well—”

“And it is every single male? No exceptions?”

“I suppose not—”

“I can control myself because I am not an animal.”

“Even with wings?” She was trying to tease him, her jokes amusing. 

“Especially with wings. You’ll see. Tomorrow we’ll visit Cassian and the village. I want you to meet my people.”

Gwyn nuzzled closer, holding him tight. “Our people,” she whispered.

Azriel smiled. 

“Our people.”

GWYN: 

“Stop it,” a masculine voice whispered in the dark, pulling Gwyn from a pleasant dream. “Don’t touch her, please—”

Azriel was thrashing beside her, tangled in the sheets and so close to the edge of the large bed he was in danger of falling to the ground. The dying firelight gilded over the blue scales on his back, the muscles of his back bunched taut. Azriel was a big man, at least to Gwyn. Maybe not as physically imposing as Cassian but long and muscular and utterly threatening when he put a weapon in one of his large, strong hands. To hear him plead with the monsters that invaded his dreams made her wonder what in the world could possibly scare a man that breathed fire.

She reached for him, sliding her hand up his spine to grip his shoulder.

“Az?”

He turned so quickly she yelped, his arms sliding around her and crushing her to his chest. His whole body was slick with sweat like he’d been running for miles. For a moment he said nothing at all, hand smoothing her hair against her head like she was a cat.

“Were you having a nightmare?” she asked him, kissing just beneath his jaw. The knot in his throat bobbed as he nodded heavily. 

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

He licked his lips. “No,” he finally said, still holding her tight. She nodded, curling her arms around him to squeeze against his ribs.

“That's okay—”

“I still see them. The day they took her away,” Azriel whispered. “We were together for a long time…separated, but I could still see her. Could still talk to her. And then one day they came with iron chains and they dragged her away. She begged, but…”

Gwyn held him tighter as he trembled.

“There was so much screaming,” he continued, his voice cracking. “And then nothing.”

“I’m sorry,” she told him. What else could she say? Gwyn knew too well the sort of terrible things he imagined. How he replayed that death over and over, imagining how he could have prevented it if he’d done something different. Gwyn was the same. She knew those nightmares.

“There is so much cruelty,” she added, pulling on her arms back to stroke his face. “I think it’s easy to let it drown you.”

“Maybe it has.” His voice was guttural—broken.

“I don’t believe that,” she replied, scooting closer so there wasn’t an inch of skin between them. 

“You don’t know the things I’ve done—”

“I don’t care about that,” she interrupted quickly. “I don’t need to know what you’ve done to know who you are, Az.”/

“And who am I, Gwyn?” he asked her, the irony of the question utterly lost on him. Had he not been so mired in misery, Gwyn might have teased him. Instead, Gwyn pressed her lips to his own mouth, offering him the same comfort he’d given her hours before. 

“Brave,” she murmured with that first kiss. “And vicious,” and another, “And beautiful,” and another, “And soft—”

“Stop it,” he groaned, threading his fingers through her hair.

“My mate,” she added, because it had made her feel better to hear him say it. She liked belonging to him, even if she didn’t feel whatever it was that made him certain they were mates. Azriel was kind and the first person since Catrin to really look at her. Every day away from the temple made Gwyn more certain she’d never go back. Even if her and Azriel dissolved into nothing, she thought she’d beg to stay up here where she could laugh and sing and smile without someone telling her to stop. 

He drew her face against his own, kissing her again. It wasn’t like before with the feather soft touches. This was deeper, more intimate somehow. She could taste him, salty and masculine. Gwyn had thought a lot about what it might be like to kiss a man one day, though she’d never believed she’d get a chance. Sighing against his impossibly soft lips, Gwyn let Az push her to her back, his body shifting until his chest had her pinned beneath him. 

There was no thought in her mind that he wouldn’t stop if she asked him to. That Azriel would take it too far, even when his teeth slid against her bottom lip, tugging softly so she opened for his sweeping, curious tongue. She’d been so interested in every little moan that dragged from him earlier while she’d stroked him, wondering if he did it to encourage her or if he couldn’t help himself.

She knew now. The moment her own tongue met his, Gwyn moaned almost embarrassingly loud. Not that Azriel cared, of course. He merely held her face with his strong hand, his palm covering nearly the entire half, his fingers still teasing in her hair. This—oh, but this. 

She believed in that moment that he was her mate. Heart pounding, not with fear but with hope, with want, with long forgotten life, Gwyn tangled around his neck, her fingers skimming over the nape to touch his short, inky dark hair. 

This was enough. 

He was enough. 

It was Azriel who broke the kiss, forehead pressed to her own as he panted for breath. Her whole body was humming, her stomach churning with anticipation. “I’m sorry,” he breathed, still holding her face in his hand. “I should have asked.”

“I liked it,” she admitted, wondering if it set a dangerous precedent to let him touch her without asking first. She couldn’t help it, not when she knew he was thinking about making her feel comfortable.

Not when he tasted like the sky itself, when his mouth was the most exquisite thing she’d ever felt. Gwyn trusted him. Stranger as he should have been—a man who’d kidnapped her from the woods and declared she was basically his wife, and Gwyn would have trusted him with her life if it came down to it.

Strange, how the world was. She was positive the Mother Goddess had a sense of humor. 

“So did I,” he told her, kissing her again without preamble. She met him eagerly, forgetting why they were even kissing in the first place. All she knew was the slide of his mouth and the way he groaned when her tongue caressed his, their clumsiness from before sharpening with each new touch. He kept his hands on her face, fascinated with her hair but Gwyn wanted to touch more of his skin. Azriel was nothing but sculpted muscle and her earlier touching hadn’t been enough. She could have spent days running her fingers over every last inch of him, committing each faint scar, every little divot from another dragon's teeth to memory. 

His hips ground against the bed beside them, reminding her that he was still naked and the penis between his thighs was so large and thick that she was certain they’d need to try more than once before he managed to put it in her.

It might have frightened her once. 

He’ll stop if I ask.

“Stop,” she gasped against his lips, proving to herself she was right to trust him, that Azriel would do whatever she asked.

All at once he was gone, rolling to the side of the mattress so there was several inches of space between them. His chest rose and fell rapidly, one hand running through his wild hair.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “You taste…”

She wished he’d finish. Instead, Azriel’s eyes glazed over, lips parting as if he were reliving the moment. 

“Come back,” she murmured, swallowing hard. He did, sliding his arm beneath her neck to pull her against him. 

“One more kiss,” he murmured, the pretty liar. She smiled when his lips brushed hers. “Say yes.” “I don’t believe you mean it when you say one more,” she whispered, kissing him anyway.

“It would be easier if you weren’t so lovely,” he agreed, unaware of how her chest fluttered at his word. “But I am a male of my word.”

A male of his word who stretched one kiss into an eternity of kissing. She didn’t mind, not when she was happy to be beneath him, his hands combing through her hair, his tongue teasing and tasting until her whole body was a throbbing mess. As always, Azriel was the responsible one and ended things though she was positive if she reached between his legs—and she was tempted—she’d find him just as hard as before. 

“We have to stop,” he whispered. “For now, anyway.”

“And later?”

He shifted, snuggling into the blanket, arms still wrapped around her body. “You’ll be mine again.”

“I’m already yours,” she protested softly, kissing the side of his neck. 

Azriel sighed. 

“So you are.”

#gwynriel #gwyn x azriel #gwynriel fanfiction #mr steal your girl #the return of: does my form please you? #and: removing pants as problem solving

[dr-dealswiththedevil]

Hello everyone. Mod Kakera here. 

As we prepare to continue the fangan, there’s going to be some story elements requiring new sprites. And there’s a lot of sprites that will be needed. So I’m reaching out to see if anyone would be interested in helping with sprite edits and creation of OC sprites. 

If you’re interested, message me over at @fragments-of-despair or drop your commission info here on this post, and I can reach out to work with you. 

Below the cut are descriptions of the OCs we’ll need help with, for those curious as to what we’re currently looking for. Feel free to ask any additional questions if you’re interested. 

Thank you!

DIVISION 1: 

Ringo Kaminagi: Former Ultimate Prosecutor, Class 76

Hair: Black

Eyes: Golden/Red

Age Range: between 18-21

Pronouns: She/Her

Birthday: October 13

Hometown/Birthplace: Hokkaido 

Talent: Prosecutor

Likes: Studying law

Dislikes: Theft

Personality: Stern yet kind, very serious about her job, gets flustered easily by friends. Can be described as a cross between Ishimaru and Kirumi in personality.

Song Associated with them: Little Miss Perfect by Taylor Louderman

Sachie Kozui: Former Ultimate Lucky Student, Class 76

Hair: Lavender

Eyes: Light Gold

Age Range: between 18-21

Pronouns: She/Her

Birthday: August 4

Hometown/Birthplace: Hokkaido

Talent: Lucky Student (ironically)

Likes: Climbing Trees, Ringo

Dislikes: Messing up, being unlucky

Personality: Sweet, playful, a bit of a clutz, gets nervous and panicked easily due to her talent having a Murphy’s Law type affect on those around her. A bit superstitious due to wanting to better her luck. 

Song Associated with them: A Thousand Miles by Vanessa Carlton

DIVISION 2: 

Hildegard “Hilly” Pierrot, I.T. Expert/Technical Assistant

Hair: Red

Eyes: Green

Age Range: Mid 20s

Pronouns: He/She/They/Wumbo

Birthday: June 17

Hometown/Birthplace: Texas

Talent: Not Applicable

Likes: Cows, Ladies, Workouts

Dislikes: Romance, Sunburns

Personality: Applyjack from My Little Pony, but more sassy. A fun older sister type. Born and raised in the south on a farm, became I.T. expert to help with work. Determined and funny. Boisterous. 

Song Associated with them: Little Lion Man by Mumford and Sons

DIVISION 4

Alphonso Carlyle, Doctor and Therapist and former professional student

Hair: Dark purple with lavender streaks

Eyes: Dark purple

Age Range: Mid 40s

Pronouns: He/Hum (paperwork typo)

Birthday: December 31st

Hometown/Birthplace: Barcelona, Spain

Talent: Not Applicable

Likes: Studying, messing with Haruka

Dislikes: Bourbon

Personality: Calm, fun uncle energy. Knows he’s good at what he does, and knows how to ride the chaos train. Will cover for you if you sneak out after hours for teen-movie shenanigans. Very family oriented due to mother’s side of the family (large family from Spain), but also very dry humored from dad’s side (smaller family from Great Britain). Loves to nap.

Song Associated with them: Once in a Lifetime by Talking Heads

DIVISION 6

Haruka Yoshida, Former Ultimate Police Officer (?), Class 75

Hair: Dark brown/reddish brown

Eyes: Blue-Grey

Age Range: Early/Mid 20s

Pronouns: He/Him

Birthday: January 27th

Hometown/Birthplace: Kyoto

Talent: Police Officer (on record)

Likes: Following Rules, Espionage, Banana Laffy Taffy

Dislikes: Shenanigans, being called by his given name

Personality: Has a lot of repressed emotions. Very proud of himself, his family, and the mission of the Future Foundation. Very loyal to causes he sees as just. Very quick to annoy. Deep down is rather sweet and kind.

Song Associated with them: Snake Eater by Cynthia Harrel

DIVISION 10

D’Andre “Rex” Sukimoto, Tech Prodigy and Resident Nerd of Culture 

Hair: Black (natural), Green (dyed)

Eyes: Brown (left), Hazel Green (Right)

Age Range: 15-18

Pronouns: He/They (experimenting)

Birthday: November 29

Hometown/Birthplace: Canada

Talent: Would have been Ultimate Play-Tester (Tragedy prevented Admission to Hope’s Peak)

Likes: Video Games, Coding, Experimenting

Dislikes: Homework, enforced bedtime

Personality: Classic little brother type. Loves getting into mischief. Very bright and very quick to learn. Sassy and savvy. Can and will prank you if given the chance. Strong sense of what is right and wrong. 

Song Associated with them: Robot Rock by Daft Punk

DIVISION 12

Haruhi Ortiz, Infrastructure Expert and OSHA Fan

Hair: Black with yellow tips (dyed)

Eyes: Black

Age Range: 16-19

Pronouns: He/She/They (genderfluid)

Birthday: June 21

Hometown/Birthplace: San Juan, Puerto Rico

Talent: Not Applicable

Likes: Architecture, Public Transit, Trees

Dislikes: Incorrect Lab Safety precautions, [REDACTED]

Personality Type: Withdrawn but calm and warm. Takes a lot to get them to open up. Not quick to anger. Hard to fluster. Hardworking. Often flies under the radar but can and will hold you hostage if you ask about how to better lay out a city. If truly angry, swears in their first language. 

Song Associated with them: Turnabout Sisters 2016 from Ace Attorney: Spirit of Justice

Bonus: DIVISION 7

M.A.L.L.A.R.D. [ADDITIONAL INFORMATION SPOILERS]

Hair: None (chrome body)

Eyes: Light Bulb (changes color)

Birthday: December 21

Likes: Helping in the lab, Grapes, Chap Stick

Dislikes: Duct Tape, Glue, Bread Crumbs

Personality: Think Goddard from Jimmy Neutron, but a duck. 

#danganronpa #Danganronpa: Deals with the Devil #artist wanted #sprite edits #danganronpa sprite edit #dr sprite edit