#there’s such steadiness to her underneath the exterior

[itspileofgoodthings]

guys I hate to say it but Zara’s story (four weddings a funeral) finds Keeley’s (Ted lasso) dead.

#it’s not even really Keeley’s fault or Juno temple’s #but by the end they just strip her of everything good except her friendship with Rebecca and they just don’t center that #and she becomes the saddest little girlboss you’ve ever seen. Zara’s story is so good and so real and she is such a funny sweet icon #just rewatched four weddings and I love her more than ever #there’s such steadiness to her underneath the exterior #anyway I never finished the show so maybe TL course corrects but …….

[gravehags]

naked in that garden

Pairing: Rain x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit

18+ ONLY MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Tags: PinV sex, period sex, breeding kink, the usual ghoul tenderness, Cirrus cameo

Words: 2,013

Summary: Rain stops by for a visit. You know exactly what he wants.

a/n: sweet sweet Rain my lanky bass boy. i know there's a freak hiding underneath that sensible, haughty exterior.

~~~

Cirrus wears an amused look as she watches you inspect your backside in the full-length mirror.

“Bruised to shit,” you growl, giving her a look. “I’m not going to be able to sit down for a week.”

Hopping off the bed she slinks over to you and runs the flat of her palm over the sensitive skin as she watches both your nude forms reflected in the mirror.

“Poor pet,” she coos, mouthing at your shoulder. “I’m sorry for getting carried away but you were just so tempting. So plump and eager.” 

Cirrus continues to lick her way up your neck and you feel a twinge of interest from between your thighs. She’s sliding her hands over your breasts to pinch at your hardened nipples when your phone lets out a very loud, very obnoxious sound. The moment is thoroughly ruined as you pick up your phone off the dresser to turn off the alarm and grab your bathrobe. Cirrus looks extremely put-out as she watches you slip the garment on, covering yourself from her view. Slipping your phone into your robe pocket you approach her and take her face between your hands.

“See you later?” It’s more of a statement than a question but you give her the option of declining all the same.

With a dramatic sigh, she nods and swoops in for one last lingering kiss. Before she can wrap her arms around you and drag you towards her you’re reluctantly slipping out of her grasp. You make towards the door and when you put your hand on the knob and look back, she’s giving you a sad little wave. It takes all your strength to leave that room and the ghoulette inside it behind but if you’re late to mass, Papa Secondo is going to be most displeased.

—

A few days pass, filled with the usual duties, when you’re finally struck down. Your period arrives with a vengeance and although you are annoyed, you are mostly pleased it’s shown up at all. You have no idea if ghouls can impregnate humans - probably something you should have asked Swiss on that first day - but you’ve been playing fast and loose despite your regular consumption of birth control.

You’re curled up in bed, cozy underneath your duvet, when you hear a hesitant series of knocks on your door. You sit up slightly before calling out with a hoarse “hello?”

“It’s Rain,” the muffled voice says through the door to your quarters. “Can I come in?”

You’re a sight after spending the entire day sequestered in your room. A sympathetic sister covered for your daily duties after you explained to her your annoying predicament and you’ve been in bed ever since. Your hair is mussed and you’re wearing nothing but a big t-shirt and your underwear underneath your covers. You sigh and rub your eyes wearily.

“Yeah,” you call out. “Yeah, come in.”

He opens the door as quietly as possible and creeps toward you, his slender form casting shadows around the room illuminated only by your bedside lamp. When he approaches your bed, his tail is twitching behind him as he delicately sits on the edge.

“Hey,” he says, fidgeting with his hands. “We were worried about you today. Sister Marguerite said you’re ill and–”

You smile, turning on your side towards him.

“Not ill, exactly,” you sigh, watching him gaze down at you softly. “Just human bullshit. I’m on my period.”

He nods and scoots towards you, fingers tangled in his lap.

“Is there anything…is there anything I can do to help?”

You regard him from your reclined position. Rain’s dark hair hangs around his pretty face, broad shoulders rising and falling with his steady breaths. His hands, long and slender, toy with the fabric of your duvet. You don’t know Rain as well as the others - he’s something of an enigma to you - and all of a sudden you’re filled with the desperate desire to familiarize yourself.

“Do you want to stay with me?” you inquire softly with a knowing look, your hand reaching out to brush his. He looks down at you with parted lips and wide, dark eyes.

“Yes,” he whispers, eyes traveling over your form. “Yes please.”

You understand exactly what it is he wants, particularly after he stands and you see the bulge pressed against his black jeans. Nuzzling into your pillow you watch him undress, admiring the curve of his spine and the way his blush reaches all the way to the base of his horns. He hesitates before sliding off his underwear and your mouth goes dry. He’s beautiful, nude and half-hard before you and you long to slide your mouth over the swollen tip of him. Instead you scooch over in bed and pull back the duvet, gesturing for him to join you. Gently he clambers in beside you and he sighs when you draw the covers back over the both of you. The two of you are face to face now and you lean forward to brush the tip of your nose against his. When he reaches up and slides a hand into your hair, you let out a contented noise in the back of your throat.

“Do you want me?” you whisper, your eyes seeking out his. Something shifts and he stares at you with blown-out pupils. 

“You have no idea,” he growls before slotting his lips against yours.

The kiss is hungry as he buries his fingers in your hair and you moan into his mouth. He coaxes you open with his tongue, licking into you with ferocity you did not expect from him. Bringing his body flush to yours, you feel the kick of his cock against your belly and your cunt aches in response. When he pulls away for a moment you whine until you realize he’s trying to work your shirt off over your head at an awkward angle. You sit up slightly to help his cause and suddenly the garment flies over your head and onto the bedroom floor. He’s on you in an instant, sucking your nipple greedily as you fist his dark hair. 

“Rain,” you breathe, “I’m not going anywhere.”

He hums around your hardened bud and slides off with a pop to give you a dark look.

“Need you so bad,” he intones, “you have no fucking idea.”

You gasp as his hand slides down your body and into your underwear. When he cups a slender hand against your mound you squirm with delight. He slides one finger against your clit, rubbing languid circles as you buck into his touch. 

“Nice and wet, all for me,” he murmurs as he kisses your neck, continuing to work his finger against the nub. When his hand pulls back to the waistband of your underwear you cringe a little.

“I’m bleeding,” you say, biting your lip. “I’ll make a mess.”

“That’s the idea,” he says as he licks a stripe across your collarbone. You resign yourself to the fate of sullying your clean sheets as he slips your period panties off you, eyeing the mess of blood and slick on the gusset as he pulls them to eye level. You’re embarrassed, cheeks and chest flushing but he gives you a grin full of sharp teeth and tosses them over his shoulder, diving back in for another heated kiss. You slide your hand down his chest, making sure to brush his nipple so he moans into your mouth, on a path towards his cock. When you slip your fingertips over the head he flexes his hips into your touch, precum dripping on the sheets. His calloused fingertips return to your cunt, dipping into you to gather your juices and slide them over your clit. When he kisses you again as you both stroke each other, it’s sharp. Fangs peek out to nip at your bottom lip until he’s drawn blood, which he licks up eagerly. 

“Need to fuck you,” he groans in your ear as your fingers work over his shaft. “Now.”

In an instant, he removes his hand from your cunt and grips your hip to pull you closer to him. When he grabs his cock to tease at your entrance, your eyes roll back in your head. Rain spreads you open with two fingers and slides into you with one solid thrust, knocking the breath from your lungs. 

“Fuck, Rain!” you gasp as he slips almost all the way out of you again. When he slides back in it’s with more gentleness, yet no less firm. You hook your leg around his, granting him greater access and he grips your thigh with sharp claws. Slowly, he begins to set a consistent pace and you sigh with delight.

“So beautiful like this,” he groans, and he hesitates a moment before he speaks again. “Would you let me breed you? Fuck into you again and again until it takes,” he inhales sharply, “and you’re round and full with my kit?”

Your jaw drops open as your cunt clenches around him. His thrusts continue, becoming more insistent. You never thought the idea of being impregnated would arouse you but your moans have become louder all of a sudden, the stretch of your walls more intense.

“Y-yes,” you pant and his pace picks up. “Fuck yes, fill me up. Please.”

You can feel and hear the mixture of blood and slick as his fucking becomes more frantic at your words. Pulling him in for a bruising kiss, you grip the back of his neck, digging your nails into the flesh. You can hear him crying out under your mouth so you pull away, nose to nose with him.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he rasps, sliding a hand down to your cunt to toy with your clit. “Please.”

“Yours, Rain,” you keen as his fingers slip against you again and again. “I’m yours!”

When he coaxes your orgasm out of you, your back arches, pushing your body even closer towards him. His cock continues to slam inside of you, desperate to reach his own end. As you come, your cunt spasms around him and he grips the back of your head to press his forehead into yours.

“And I’m yours,” he grits out, thrusting erratically, “we’re all yours, baby.”

We. The word makes you gasp and clench around him once more as you come down from your high. We.

You are the ghouls’ and the ghouls are yours.

As he spills into you, you vaguely acknowledge the tears sliding down your cheeks. He continues fucking you even after his seed seeps out of you until he’s crying out from the overstimulation. Gently he pulls his softened cock from you and you both lie next to each other, panting. When you raise a hand to lightly stroke his cheek he nuzzles into your touch and turns to place a kiss on your palm.

“Hey,” you say quietly, snuggling closer to him. “That was really nice.”

When he smiles your heart sings.

You feel another rush of blood seep out of you to join the rest of the mess between your thighs. You must be making a face because Rain laughs, sliding out of bed to stand.

“C’mon,” he murmurs. “Your shower still broken?”

“No, actually,” you say, getting the gist, “got it fixed yesterday.” When you slip out of bed and stand you groan at what you see on the sheets.

“Ok, shower and then we gotta change these things. Ugh those sheets were almost brand new.”

You stomp towards the bathroom and Rain captures your wrist in his hand, drawing you back to him.

“Beloved,” he whispers, bringing your hand up to his mouth to kiss it. Your chest aches from the way he gazes at you and you smile - a bright, sincere thing with all of your teeth.

“Thank you,” you say simply. 

The words you really want to say - words you have been wanting to tell all the ghouls - linger in your mouth but you can’t yet find the courage to speak them into existence.

Soon enough.

#rain x reader #rain x female reader #rain x f!reader #rain ghoul #the band ghost #the band ghost fic #rachel writes

[irkimatsu]

I love your Husk works! Could you please write one where fem!reader gets along with everyone and Husk doesn't even realize that he's catching feelings, but maybe on a night out with everyone, someone comes up and starts heavily flirting with her. Ends with confessions and sugary sweet tooth rotting fluff please. 😍

God damn, anon, do you have any idea how hard it is to wring a confession out of this man? I was going along at a steady pace and then I got stuck for hours! I genuinely hope you like slowburn, because Husk doesn't go from zero-to-love easily. I think he's gotten a nice start here, though. It's definitely fluffy!

Husk/Fem!Reader starting a relationship. Mentions of drinking and attempted sexual assault that Husk interrupts before things get too heavy. SFW, 2.8k words. Enjoy! I hope this is what you had in mind, anon! Thank you so much for reading my works!

Your first few months staying at the Hazbin Hotel have gone quite smoothly; as smoothly as anything there can ever go, anyway. Charlie took an instant liking to you - she takes an instant liking to everyone, so it’s nothing special, but still. She can be a bit overbearing, but you know she means well, and she’s grateful to have someone who doesn’t immediately write off her trust exercises from the start.

Still, after all the sharing circles and art therapy, you occasionally find yourself craving more “adult” fun, and that’s where Angel and Cherri come in. It’s not that you don’t want to be redeemed, but what could be so sinful about enjoying yourself a little? You’re not doing anything dangerous or drastic, no drugs and no getting involved with the wrong people; you’re just having fun drinking, dancing, maybe smashing up some abandoned property if the opportunity strikes. Charlie can’t get mad at destruction if no one cares about the thing you just blew up, right?

The bartender, Husk, isn’t nearly as keen on those nights on the town, but you’ve still managed to bond with him on nights where you prefer to stay in. He’s a surprisingly good listener underneath his gruff exterior. (Perhaps too good of a listener; you hope he keeps ignoring whatever bullshit you might have spouted off after one too many of his cocktails.) He also has plenty of stories of his own, mostly from the time he spent alive. When you could get him talking, he’d weave incredible tales of nightlife, both from his home city in Las Vegas and all the other places he’d visited in his life. He seemed especially wistful when talking about a woman he knew back then. He could talk for hours about all the famous sites he was able to take her to, all the songs he would sing for her, and all the starry skies he’d dance with her under.

“It’s not like I blame her for leaving. I’m the one who screwed it up. But being in love… it was nice while it lasted.”

You try to encourage him with the hope that he could fall in love again, but he shakes his head with a bitter smile.

“I lost the ability to love years ago.”

—-

Your friendship with Angel and Cherri is so different compared to your friendship with Husk, so it took a few months before you could have a night out with all three of them. Charlie is once again less enthused about the idea of you four going out to party, but you promise to be relatively well behaved.

You promise, anyway. You can’t make promises for Angel’s sake, and as much as you love her, you know better than to have any faith in Cherri.

You’re surprised Husk agreed to come to a sex club at all. He never seemed like the type to be into that sort of thing. You’re less surprised to see that he has no intention of flirting with anyone and is instead perfectly happy to sit by the wall and knock back shots as quickly as the bartender can pour them.

Couldn’t he drink himself stupid back at the hotel, though? Why did he even come?

Is it just you, or has he been watching you the whole night?

The hours tick by, and you, Angel, and Cherri become progressively more wasted. Angel is currently hanging off of a muscular bull demon - damn, good for him - while Cherri tells you about another resident who used to stay at the hotel before he tragically lost his life during the last extermination.

“He was such a fucking idiot that it was charming, ya know? God damn I should have gotten to know him better when he was still around! I heard this rumor about him and never even got to find out if it was true!”

As she speaks, Cherri catches sight of a cobra demon who is currently chatting up a cluster of punk girls.

“Well, damn… maybe I’ll get to find out tonight. Don’t wait around for me, I’ll find my way back!”

With that announcement, Cherri is gone, leaving only you and Husk with about a dozen bar stools between you. He’s definitely keeping an eye on you; there’s still liquid in his glass, and  he’s watching you instead of guzzling it.

What’s his deal? If he wants to spend the night with you, why doesn’t he just come over here? You decide not to go over there yourself; no sense in rewarding him if he’s playing mind games.

You instead turn your attention to a handsome wolf demon who has taken Cherri’s seat. “Drinking all alone, love?” he says, his deep voice smooth as butter. Right away this man gives you the air of a natural-born charmer who can win anyone’s trust within seconds, only to break their hearts within hours.

He’s hot, and you’re drunk. You’ll let him break your heart a little.

Your conversation starts normally enough, with low stakes topics like the music and the drink selection in the bar. You’re in no hurry to tell this man anything personal or leave this spot with him, but you’re enjoying looking at him and hearing him enough that you don’t mind being a bit of entertainment.

He bumps your knee with his at one point, but you pull your own knee away. At first he seems to take the hint, and time passes without any more advances.

Soon, however, he grows more bold.

“Why don’t we go somewhere else, baby?” he asks as he lightly squeezes your thigh. “Somewhere more private?”

“No thanks,” you say as you jerk your leg away, though the motion doesn’t make him let go. “I’m fine talking here.”

“You know this is a sex club, don’t you?” he says. His smile and voice haven’t changed, but somehow he seems much slimier than he did five minutes ago, and the strong paw gripping your leg that seemed so enticing in your head feels suffocating in reality.

“I’m not here for that, I’m just hanging out with friends-” You try to leave the stool, but the man throws his arm around your shoulders and pulls you in.

“Come on, babe! What did you think I was after by chatting you up like this? You’re not gonna leave me hanging, are you?” He’s holding you closely enough that his hot breath is hitting your face, and the stench of his cologne is making you gag. “C’mon, baby, I’ll show you a good time. You won’t regret this-”

“She said no.” Husk had somehow snuck his way to your side without you noticing, and was now glaring daggers at your pursuer. “Back off.”

“Who are you, her grandpa?” the wolf laughs, refusing to unhand you. “Or just a nasty old man who likes ‘em young?”

Your captor’s laughter is quickly interrupted by a high-pitched howl. His face is now adorned with four jagged, bleeding lines.

“What the fuck, old man?” he yells as he unhands you. Just as quickly as you’re unhanded, you’re grabbed again, this time by Husk grabbing your waist and pulling you away.

“I knew I fucking hated this place,” he growls. “Where are Cherri and Angel?”

You have no idea, but your first guess has you looking toward the sex rooms in the back of the club.

“Jesus Christ… they’ll find their own way home. Come on, we’re going back to the hotel.”

You don’t appreciate being dragged out of the club like a misbehaving child, but as the alcohol clouds your thinking, you can’t quite formulate a protest.

Considering how pissed off your admirer must be right now, maybe it’s for the best that you don’t stay.

—

The walk back to the hotel is blurry; if Husk had anything to say to you besides pissed off obscenities muttered beneath his breath, you don’t remember it. Your next memory finds you laying on the couch in the lobby, your head aching from a combination of a hangover and the time spent laying on the couch’s arm with your neck at a weird angle.

“What time is it…?” you murmur as your eyes try to adjust.

“About noon,” answers Husk from the bar. 

As you continue to look around the lobby, he appears to be the only one here. “Where is everyone?” you ask through a yawn.

“Angel and Cherri still aren’t back, but I’m sure they’re fine. Charlie and Vaggie left to give you some quiet. Alastor and Niffty…” Husk shrugs after their names, then falls silent.

You groan as you push yourself into a sitting position, one that has you facing Husk. He doesn’t appear to have anything to do, and is instead standing with his chin resting on his crossed arms atop the bar. An awkward silence falls between the two of you, giving you plenty of time to observe Husk’s body language, particularly the way his tail is lashing behind him while his ear gives the occasional twitch.

He is not in a good mood.

“Are you okay?” you ask. Your well-meaning question only seems to piss him off further; he answers not with a word, but with a growl. “Is this about last night?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he insists.

“I’m sorry I caused you trouble…”

“Wasn’t your fault.” His tail lashes even harder. “Just don’t worry about it, all right?”

You’re going to keep worrying about it until he stops looking so on edge.

“Thanks for getting me away from that guy last night,” you say, just in case you didn’t thank him in your drunken haze.

“Hey, it’s what a good bartender does. When you see someone starting shit with another patron, even if it’s not your bar, you take care of the problem. That fucker had no right to put his hands on you after you told him to cut it out.”

He may be gruff, but at least he has standards.

“Can’t believe Cherri and Angel left you alone in there… those two better not take you to anymore fucking sex clubs, you don’t need to be around shit like that…”

“I’m a grown adult,” you protest. “I didn’t want to sleep with that guy, but if I did want to get with someone at that club, that’s my business.”

Husk’s eyes widen for a moment, before he returns to his original dour expression. “Yeah… guess you’re right.”

“And what about you? You didn’t look interested in picking up anyone last night. Why’d you even come?”

“How do you know I wasn’t interested?” he shoots back. “Maybe I was interested in someone! Maybe I just… didn’t have the balls to go for it.” He stands up straight and shakes his head. “Look, can we drop this? Hang out in sex clubs if you want, I don’t fuckin’ care.”

He’s speaking with the tone of voice of someone who very much cares.

“I’m done with ‘em, though. You’re right, you’re an adult, you don’t need me hanging around like some fuckin’ guardian angel.” He pours a glass of clear liquid, and you expect him to down it himself, but he instead steps out from behind the bar still holding the full glass. “I overreacted last night. Shouldn’t have made it your fuckin’ problem.” He approaches the couch, takes a seat, and offers you the glass. “Here, one last favor. Drink this and I’ll get off your ass.”

You take the cup, wondering if for some ungodly reason he’s trying to get you to down straight vodka.

“Why are you looking at me like that? It’s water. That headache’s only gonna get worse if you’re dehydrated.”

You take a sip of the water, and after only a few swallows you’re already regaining a bit of your desire to live. “Thanks,” you say before taking another large gulp.

“No problem,” he responds. You expect him to return to the bar, but he remains next to you on the couch. His body language has gotten no less agitated. What is going on with him?

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you doting on Angel or Cherri like this,” you observe before finishing the glass.

“They’re used to it, and they’ve got each other,” he says as he takes the glass from you. “You want some more?”

You shake your head, and he remains seated with the glass.

“You, though… I don’t know, something about that guy just pissed me off,” he says. “Even before he started touching you I didn’t like him. Bartender’s intuition, maybe? I’m still not over the awful feeling he gave me.” He sighs heavily. “I just… hate the idea of seeing you get hurt in a place like that. I know Angel and Cherri can take care of themselves, but you’ve never seemed as wild as they do, so I wasn’t sure…”

“Is that why you were watching me the whole night?” you asked.

Husk’s body jolts. “Shit, you noticed?”

“I kept looking over there wondering if you’d ever move from that spot, and if you weren’t actively drinking you were staring at me,” you said. “You weren’t subtle.”

Husk groans as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. I know you’re capable. I was just…”

“You weren’t there because you were interested in someone at all, were you?”

“I never said I wasn’t. I mean it when I said I just didn’t have the balls to say anything to ‘em. Instead, I just wondered… what I’d do if someone else asked ‘em. Knowing it’d be my own damn fault for not speaking up sooner. Trying to tell myself it wasn’t that big a deal if they went with someone else… until someone started flirting with ‘em, and touchin’ ‘em, and-” His body tenses as he growls, but relaxes after a moment. “Damn it, I haven’t had to do this in years...”

“Done what?”

“You know what I said about losing my ability to love years ago?” He turns his head and looks directly at you for the first time since he sat down. “...I think I’m remembering how to do it again.”

Things are starting to fall into place. “And the person who helped you remember is…?”

The slightest of smiles crosses his face. “Who do you think?”

You wouldn’t have guessed it before today, but it all seems so obvious in retrospect. He’d spent so many nights with you when he could have been in bed, just chatting with you or comforting you after a bad day. You’d really grown so fond of his smile, and Angel had told you before that he used to never smile.

But surely, you thought, he couldn’t have been smiling because of you…

“What am I even saying?” he asks as he turns away from you. “You died in the prime of your life, and down here you can have that prime forever. You could do so much better than a washed up old drunk.”

“You’re not washed up,” you assure him as you place your hand over his. “I think it’s great that you got to live such a full life! You have so many stories to tell, and so many talents… I bet there’s so much you haven’t told me yet.” You try to reassure him with a smile and a light squeeze to his hand. “So much you haven’t shown me, either. You talk a lot about when you were in a band, but I’ve never gotten to hear you play…”

“I haven’t touched an instrument in years,” he says. “I bet I don’t even remember how to play anymore.”

“Well, you don’t know if you don’t try, right?”

You don’t think you’re just saying that about instruments.

“It’s been such a long time… what if I screw up?”

You don’t think he’s just talking about instruments either.

“It can’t hurt to try. Maybe… maybe you’ll enjoy it even more than you remember.”

“Hmm…” He doesn’t seem fully at ease, but he hasn’t taken his hand back yet. “If I can get my hands on a saxophone, and I really haven’t forgotten how… sure. I’ll play for you.

…you just have to give me some time, okay? I’m not used to it anymore… especially with another person…”

“Take all the time you need,” you assure him.

He turns his hand around so he can hold yours back, and his smile seems to grow slightly. “Just gotta start slow… get used to things again…”

“You’ll be fine, I know you will,” you assure him. He seems content to leave the conversation there, but there’s one more thing you need to say. “Husk?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think I’ll be going back to that club. No point when I’m not interested in picking up dates anymore.”

He squeezes your hand. “Glad to hear it.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel husk x reader #hazbin husk x reader #irk blubbers about nothing #irk got asked a thing #irk talks to strangers #irk huskposts

[familyvideostevie]

hi hi lovely first of all i would LOVE to read your fluffy joel fic with no smut, i love your writing a lot and it’s just perfect and so comforting. also, if it is okay i would like to request a joel fic where the reader is someone who gets cold really easily and he’s always being a bit bossy and grumpy with her because she doesn’t wear enough layers or always gives him their blankets, and just like very fluffy very cute vibes! i love youuuuu

omg. yay!!! congratulations you are my first joel request!! thank you very much, this was a lot of fun. it's very short and a bit sweet and i hope you like it! (hope you like the fluffy joel fic, too!) joel doesn't get why you won't wear your damn gloves. fluff, jackson au, 0.8k

---

It starts with gloves.

"You okay?" Joel asks. Well, grunts, more like. You're on patrol which is serious business so you're getting serious Joel.

"Uh, yeah," you say. "Why?"

His jaw shifts like he's grinding his teeth. "You look..."

You try not to smirk too much. "How do I look, Joel?"

The two of you have been doing...whatever it is you're doing for a few months now. Gentle flirting turned to drinks turned to dinner turned to nights in his bed or yours, whispers in your hair and lips on your skin, his steady, solid presence at your side around town.

It's nice. You're enjoying it. And, perhaps most of all, you're enjoying how Joel Miller continues to surprise you. The depth of his worry and care, the jokes he tells out of nowhere, how his nostrils flare when he's trying to hide his smile.

You knew him to be a man capable of violence. You're all capable of violence. You've seen it, done it. That's life. It hardens you.

And while Joel is grumpy a lot of the time for good reason he also knows how to laugh loudly and is learning a song you love and haven't heard in twenty years so he can play it for you on his guitar.

So his unamused glare delights you more than anything.

"You look cold," he huffs.

"Well, it is fall in Wyoming, Joel," you say. "It's cold outside and we're outside." You sweep your arm in a wide arc at the beauty of the valley. Your horse snorts as if agreeing with you. He's right, though. You're cold but it's bearable. You get cold pretty easily, in fact, but Joel has no reason to know that. The weather just started to change.

"Well," he says, mocking you. "Why don't you have gloves or a hat or somethin'?"

He knows why. Because you left for patrol from his house without stopping at yours. You know he's going to find a way to make this his fault, for not checking that you had everything you needed, for not offering you the clothes on his back. You also know he's going to file this away and make it his new mission.

"Because I'm fine, that's why." Your tone leaves no room for argument but Joel tries anyway.

"Your hands are red."

"Joel," you snap. "I'm fine. Leave it."

Sometimes it's overwhelming to be cared about by a man with his intensity. He doesn't do things by halves. You're still learning what it means for him to be all in on you.

He says nothing. You glance at him and see he's holding out a pair of leather gloves you recognize.

"I'm not taking your gloves --"

"Just fuckin' take 'em, alright? If your hands are cold then you can't shoot and I don't want to have to leave you out here because someone got the jump on us. Ellie would kill me."

Typical Joel. Covering up his concern with gruffness. But you know better than to take it personally by now -- you see him with Ellie, see him with people in town. You know what he's like in your bed when he wakes up, the way he strokes your jaw and presses his lips to your temple. You know what's underneath this exterior.

So even if it's a little overwhelming you take the gloves and work them onto your hands. But you don't say thank you because you can't let him win everything.

But after that patrol Joel does make it his mission to ensure you're not cold. It's a little overbearing but you know he likes to be useful so what do you do? You lean into it. You do get cold easily, after all. You let him drape his flannels around you when you don't wear enough layers on the way to his house. You let him tug the hat on your head over your ears. You let him tuck a blanket under your feet on the couch. You let him take care of you.

"Feels like you're doin' this on purpose," he grumbles one night as you walk back from The Tipsy Bison. There's a bite to tonight's wind and he's got his arm around your shoulders so you're pressed into his side. You aren't wearing a coat warm enough for the chill.

"Doing what?"

"Being a pain in my ass. Givin' me grey hairs with your fuckin' determination to get frost bite."

"Well if you hate it so much --" You pretend to pull away from him but his doesn't let you go far.

"Didn't say that. Just think you should dress properly for once."

You laugh and pull him to a stop, turning so you're pressed against his chest.. "Why do I need more layers when I have you?"

"I see how it is," he drawls. "Usin' me for my warmth, are you?"

Joel isn't big on public displays of affection. He's a private man and likes to keep his cards close to his chest. But it's nighttime and there's hardly anyone out, so when you lean close he allows it, brushing your noses together.

"Course I am," you whisper.

He huffs. His palms press into your back. "Figures."

The kiss he gives you warms you all the way down to your toes.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

[i-just-like-goats]

Hi! Can I request Karma Akabane x female reader that's like Dazai? She's funny and likes teasing people, but she's secretly very cunning and manipulative and more intelligent than Karma. She's good at fighting, but she uses her brain and cunningness to defeat her opponent, and she proves to be a match against Nagisa. I hope you have a great day/night ❤

Hi anon! Yes I can, anything for my first husbando❤ sorry it took a while loll😅ahh you’re so sweet, hope your day/night is great as well!

Karma x Female Reader

Summary: where the class wants you two to date + in the ask.

Warnings: a brief fight scene. Use of those green rubber knives, tbf it's assassination classroom, so yeah

WC: 1.9k

Main Masterlist

Part 2

"Hey Shiota, who's the redhead sleeping in the tree?"

"Hm? Oh that's Karma, I forgot that you haven't met him yet, but it makes sense. He skips class and you joined us very recently,"

"You're rambling. What are you waiting for? Let's go meet him,"

"We should complete the task that Mr Karasuma set us,"

"Fine, fine. Come on,"

You steadied your feet ready for Nagisa to charge. He did the exact opposite and instead walked to you. Your neck tingled.

"Wipe that creepy smile from your face," you teased.

Nagisa took advantage of your momentary distraction to jab the knife towards your torso. You smirked. Too predictable with his surprise attacks. It was the same as yesterday. You easily dodged his arm, grabbed his elbow and shoulder and pinned him down. He struggled under your grasp, but in vain. You lightly tapped the knife on his forehead.

"Your movements are too predictable." You smiled. "Now come on, Karma's the only one I haven't met and you're going to introduce us,"

"Why?" Nagisa rubbed his head, "With your personality, the two of you are bound to become friends quickly,"

"How so?"

"There are some aspects where you're exactly like him,"

"Yo Nagisa," Karma called.

He walked over to a cross legged Naagisa while you crouched next to Nagisa. Karma paused.

"Who's the girl?"

"Y/N L/N, a pleasure to meet you,"

"Karma Akabane. The pleasure's all mine,"

Nagisa sighed. Of course the two most dangerous people in his life would get along just fine.

The next morning, Karma actually participated in the lesson. It would be a lie if he said he wasn't intrigued by how you took down Nagisa. Sure Nagisa was the sweetest person that you would ever meet but that made him all the more dangerous. Underneath his cheerful exterior lay a serpent filled with bloodlust. Karma was slightly envious of Nagisa's natural assassin capabilities, so to see his somewhat rival beaten in a battle of wits, it certainly caught Karma's attention.

Once again, Nagisa lay on his back while you smiled.

"Hey L/N, you up for a challenge?"

"Sure,"

"Fight me,"

"Alright Akabane, let's go,"

The class stopped to stare. Two very capable fighters with very distinct fighting styles that almost always guaranteed their win, were going to fight? That was something they could not miss. Even Ms Jelavic stepped outside to see the cause of sudden silence.

"Please don't kill her Karma," Nagisa chided.

"You kidding? I'm going to come at her like I would with Koro sensei." His eyes met yours. "I suggest you do the same,"

"I wouldn't have it any other way,"

You lunged your knife forwards. He easily evaded, then swung his knife with his left hand towards your face. You grimaced, you wouldn’t be fast enough to dodge, so you tilted your head, opened your mouth wide and clamped down on the knife.

“What-”

You let go of the knife and kicked Karma’s abdomen, with enough strength to wind him. He stumbled backwards from the shock. You dropped to the floor and moved your leg to sweep him off his feet.

“Come on, that was futile. I know you can do better than that,”

“You may be right.” You smiled.

You threw your knife directly at Karma’s face. Karma’s eyes widened, he smirked. Creative, but a waste. Everyone gasped.

“But, it looks like I win,”

With a grin, you stood behind Karma with a knife held up to his throat.

“When did you?”

“I borrowed your knife. Sorry, but I noticed the extra knife in your pocket, so I used it without asking first,”

“That’s quite alright, nice observation. That was a fun fight,”

“Thank you, I enjoyed too,”

You lowered his knife from his throat and picked up the knife you threw.

“You’re fast, I didn’t even notice that you moved,”

“It comes with practice, but you’re fast yourself, you still dodged the knife I threw at a close range, but clearly not fast enough,”

Karma glared playfully at you as you gave finger guns in return.

“My students are such strong assassins! I’m so proud,” Koro sensei cried.

“It’s all thanks to the excellent teaching our top tier teachers are giving us,” you complimented with a smile.

“You’re too kind Y/N!”

Koro sensei hugged the two of you. 

“I’ve changed my mind, you are no longer a top tier teacher. Your teaching is inadequate,” you complained.

That only prompted Koro sensei to hug you even tighter. With furrowed eyebrows, you stared up at Koro sensei. Was there a reason why he was practically pressing you against Karma’s body?

“As much as I am fond of the two of you, this is a bit much isn’t it?” you said.

“Agreed,” 

Koro sensei giggled. How cute that confident Karma was blushing from being too close to you. Could he see a ship forming? Unable to handle being suffocated in your teacher’s arms, you push away, taking Karma with you by grabbing his forearm. He smiled gratefully, you threw a playful thumbs up in return.

The next morning, you were resting your head in your arms, not paying any attention to the class.

“Hey L/N.” Karma tapped your shoulder from the desk behind you.

You leaned your head back and looked curiously into his mischievous eyes.

“What do you say we skip next period?”

“Bit of a random offer,”

“It’ll be fun, I can tell you’re bored out of your mind sitting in this lesson,”

“Sure, I need a break,”

Before the start of the next period, you followed Karma to the tree where you first saw him.

“Oh? Are you trying to get me alone with you?” you teased.

“Yes,”

You stopped walking to stare at him.

“That was easy to get you to admit. I didn’t expect you to say that so bluntly,”

“You’re interesting, I want to get to know you some more,”

“Alright. You’re a bit mysterious yourself,”

He chuckled. You spent the rest of the school day just talking about anything and everything with Karma. Talking to him was so easy, the conversation flowed so smoothly, it was as though the two of you had known each other your entire lives.

You grabbed your bag from the classroom and walked down the mountain with Karma right by your side, still talking about whatever topic you could think of. Once you reached the school’s gates, you turned to Karma.

“I quite like you Karma,”

“The feeling’s mutual,”

"My, my, does the aloof Karma reciprocate my feelings?"

"Shut up, you make it sound like you just confessed and I accepted,"

"Well, 'like' can be interpreted in different ways. You decide which I meant. See you,"

You parted after that.

Days and weeks flew by, and each day, you found yourself growing closer and closer with Karma. Each week, you found something new to admire about Karma, such as this week, you found it adorable how he has a collection of spices at home.

Every day, Koro sensei stared at you two chatting together with a knowing smile. He would do whatever he could to let his ship sail. Fortunately, the rest of the class actually shared the same view as him on this matter.

It was so obvious to everyone that you and Karma were just a match made in heaven, the perfect couple if one of you finally decided to confess. So, Nagisa found himself in a class meeting excluding you and Karma during one of the lessons where you would both skip to spend time together. It was against his will.

“I don’t see why I need to be here,” he grumbled.

“Because Nagisa, you know the both of them the best, we need your insight,” Nakamura scolded.

Nagisa sighed at all of their outlandish plans. He was even included a couple of these plans, again against his will.

“I just don’t see why we have to interfere, can’t we just let them figure it out themselves? They’re both really smart,”

“They’re smart but not that kind of smart. Y/N may joke a lot about love but boy she is oblivious, and Karma is just too proud to admit that he actually feels something other than bloodlust,” Kayano snapped.

Nagisa shook his head. He could only imagine how Karma would react.

The next morning, Nakamura shoved Karma as he walked past her to get him to fall onto you. You stepped out of the way, allowing him to fall face first.

"You couldn't have helped me?" Karma grumbled almost incoherently.

"I know you could've easily caught yourself, but it seems that you can't. That or you wanted to fall onto me, you gremlin,"

"Whatever,"

You offered your hand and he begrudgingly accepted it. Nakamura frowned.

“Plan A didn’t work,” she whispered to Nagisa.

“I can see that. I’ve been standing next to you since you pushed Karma,”

It was time to enact Plan B. The class locked all the windows and doors of the classroom to trap the two inside alone together. An hour passed in bated silence. Nagisa tilted his head confused, why weren’t the two of you at least talking.

“We won’t let you guys out until you confess to each other!” Kayano announced to finally break the silence.

“Nufufu, no need to be shy my precious students, talking about your feelings is a healthy thing to do. I encourage you to do it more,”

“To do what more?”

Everyone slowly turned their heads towards you standing next to Karma. You and Karma stared at them expectantly. You chuckled at their mortified expressions.

“Any particular reason why the class is standing outside of the classroom?” You asked.

“It’s freaky,” Karma added.

“Someone let off a stink bomb inside the classroom so we decided to evacuate,” Nagisa said.

“Well it wasn’t me this time,” Karma said nonchalantly.

“This time? You mean it was you who pulled that prank last week!” Koro sensei exclaimed.

“Guilty.” Karma shrugged.

“This is exactly why I love you,”

“Thank you love,”

“What!” the class shouted in unison.

Your cheeky eyes met Karma’s own mischievous ones with a smirk.

“Were you guys trying to get us together with those weird actions?” you teased.

“Yes, they did,” Nagisa admitted.

“Well at least they’re together. I don't know what we would have done if Plan B didn’t work, since we didn’t plan for a third one,” Okuda said.

“You’re lucky that this idiot confessed to me while we were bunking today,”

“Only an idiot for you,” Karma replied.

The girls grabbed your arm to hear all of the details. They sat you down at your desk while they gathered in a circle around you. The boys sat scattered around the classroom feigning disinterest, but they were just as curious as the girls.

“Spill Y/N,” Fuwa demanded.

“Don’t spare any details,” Kurahashi added.

“Well, we went into the classroom, but no one was there, so we jumped out of the window and decided to bunk as usual,”

“Typical, you’re such bad influences to each other,” Kataoka scolded.

“Don’t interrupt!” Kayano snapped.

“We were talking like usual, but there was something bugging Karma so I asked, and he spontaneously told me his feelings. I was caught off guard, because I’ve never been in a situation like this. So I laughed,”

“That hurt,” Karma called from across the classroom.

You and the girls giggled.

“It was just so surreal. I was so nervous, we then just talked it out and now we’re together I guess,”

The girls squealed at the story.

“So cute!” they gushed.

Your eyes met Karma’s amidst the bombardment of questions from the girls. He smiled at you gratefully and you winked. Some things were best kept as secrets.

A/N: I will write the confession scene as an extra

#karma akabane #karma x reader #karma akabane x reader #akabane karma #akabane karma x reader #assassination classroom fluff #assassination classroom #assassination classroom x reader #karma x fem reader #karma x y/n

[caspercryptid]

For Wyll requests: I'm a huuuuuuuuge fan of Bladeweave (Wyll / Gale). Maybe Gale teaching Wyll some magic? Gale and Wyll arguing (respectfully, civilly, and charmingly but maybe straining just a bit behind their gentlemanly exteriors) over cooking duties (because they both WANT to cook - but then some kind of accident or something happens and it turns cute, soft, and a little romantic (almost as if realizing there's an attraction there or something) Wyll protecting Gale from some attack or another (maybe by a goblin or something?)? Wyll sharing one of his monster-hunting stories and Gale is absolutely riveted and fascinated and asking questions? Drunk Gale and drunk Wyll at the tiefling party being silly (maybe a little sad at some points), maybe sharing a kiss, and then passing out next to each other (maybe in their arms?) Wyll helping Gale through a painful moment regarding his Netherese orb condition? Gale helping Wyll feel better about his new transformation? (Maybe a little awkward at some points, a little flirty, but also making sure Wyll knows that his appearance hasn't changed who he is or how he sees Wyll) I could go all day with these ideas. I'm actually working on a Bladeweave fanfiction myself. :D

Hey beloved, it'd be really cool if you followed up and sent the rest of these i didn't do as separate asks, because i love them, but I prefer to do my prompt fills individually ♡♡♡

That being said. Here's cooking 🍳 ft. My tav, Marjorie.

Psssssst to everyone else, Wyll requests are open. I haven't finished the game tho so be nice

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

“It’s really no trouble,” Wyll is saying, his hands firmly on the handles of the pot.

“No, no, you’ve worked so hard today,” Gale counters, tone almost pleading, grabbing the lip, white-knuckled.

“You’ve worked so hard today,” Wyll counters, “and you were injured-”

He is realizing, distantly, that this is ridiculous. He can’t take the credit for that realization, unfortunately, that accolade has to be granted to Astarion and Maj, and really, mostly to Maj. Astarion was really doing a very good job of keeping a straight face as he watched Wyll and Gale argue, only the glint in his eye betraying that he was even paying attention at all. Maj, however, is laughing. Not a little chuckle or fond giggle, full scale shoulders shaking tears streaming down her face hysterics, and clocking that (he was always on the lookout for signs of distress) had finally made Wyll take a full inventory of the position he’s in.

He is standing with his feet apart, toes turned in to improve his balance, braced on the ground. His hands are on the handles of the pot. And Gale is no longer just trying to sneak it out of his hands- Gale is leaning backwards pulling on it to the degree that Wyll is certain if he let go Gale would go flying, the pot after him, on a collision course with his face.

For a second, he’s tempted to. It would serve Gale right, being so obstinate, and it would make Maj laugh, and heaven knows they all needed a laugh after everything they’ve been through. But Gale had been injured today, and Shadowheart had barely patched him up, and if Wyll was the cause of his wounds reopening...well. He would actually feel rather bad about it.

He tries to shift forwards, to releasing some of the force on the pot without letting it go, seeing if he can trick Gale into steadying himself, and it seems to work, Gale shuffling in place to get his feet underneath him, even as he’s continuing to give some impassioned defense Wyll was absolutely not listening to.

“—Really, cooking is the least I can offer the camp, you’ve saved my hide, you’ve saved everyone’s hide, you’re the blade of the frontiers, hero of the sword coast, you’re really very impressive—”

Wyll squints at him, and Gale cuts off, like he’s just now hearing himself, but he gives Wyll a wide confident grin. The silence extends as Wyll tries to figure out what the hell to say to that, and then Maj takes pity on them.

“Is there some kind of warlock-wizard feud I'm unaware of where you can’t share a pot?” She says. “I know what ingredients we have, it’s going to be stew again.”

Wyll considers that. He was going to make stew.

“I have yeast,” Gale counters, almost sulky. “I was going to make bread.”

“Great!” Maj chirps, “that’ll go well with the stew.”

Gale looks at him, He looks at Gale. Gale grins, a little sheepish, and lets go of the pot.

Wyll snorts, and then something clicks. Gale had spent an undue amount of time checking over the kitchens and cabinets in abandoned homes. He must have finally found what he was looking for.

“—I do miss good bread,” he offers, and Gale lights up.

“As do I. I should have known you’d understand, I know it doesn’t travel well but the crumb of—”

As Wyll listens to him ramble, he starts to quietly build a meal plan in his head. Maybe he could share the cooking responsibilities. Since it made Gale happy. And, well. A happy wizard was an effective wizard. That’s definitely the only reason.

He can hear Astarion and Maj whispering, and turns his back on them as he hears the clink of gold and a bet being taken.

He doesn’t want to know. He has stew to make.

#wyll ravengard #bg3 #bg3 Wyll #bladeweave #Wyll x Gale #gale x wyll #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #casper's haunted fic tag

[cherryrainn]

Can I get a platonic fic for the mutant ninja turtles (2012 ver)?? Donatello created a robot, a very eficient robot that was made to copy human (or mutant) actions and resemble their emotions, and that is reader! And they're all very fond of the robot (reader can be young like 10-15 or smth like that) and treat her like a human, all fluff! but I want an angst moment at the very end, like an angsty end, in which they realise that reader is still just a robot after all, a robot that can't feel, that is just copying their actions and working thanks to wires and not organs nor blood. I just need the angst srry 😭

YES! ANGST. GOOD! I LOVE ANGST. by the way, your requests are always the best. you have amazing ideas and i love writing them <3

☽ ༚  ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰  ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ 

— reflections of metal and heart

(2012) tmnt x robot! reader (platonic)

the lair was bustling with activity as donatello tinkered away in his workshop. he had been working tirelessly on his latest invention, a remarkable robot designed to emulate human emotions. he believed that if he could create a machine capable of replicating feelings, it could bridge the gap between humans and mutants, allowing for a deeper understanding and connection.

after months of meticulous work, donatello unveiled his creation to his brothers. as they gathered around, their eyes widened in awe at the sight of the robot before them. its design was sleek, with a metallic frame and expressive led eyes that shone with a hint of curiosity.

as you opened your eyes, you found yourself in a laboratory filled with various gadgets and tools. it took a moment to gather your bearings. donnie stood in front of you, his eyes filled with anticipation and excitement.

"you're awake!" he exclaimed, a wide grin stretching across his face. "welcome to the family, y/n."

you blinked, processing his words. family? did that mean you were part of their team?

you weren't alive, or anything like that. how did you know all these people?

you looked around and saw leonardo, raphael, and michelangelo standing nearby, their expressions a mix of curiosity and warmth.

leo stepped forward, his blue eyes studying me intently. "donnie did an amazing job with you. we've all been looking forward to meeting you."

raph crossed his arms, a smirk playing on his lips. "yeah, i gotta admit, you're pretty real lookin'.."

mikey bounced on his toes. "i can't wait to show you all the awesome pizza places in the city!"

their enthusiasm overwhelmed you, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging. donnie had created you to resemble a human, to be a part of their team, and now they welcomed you with open arms. it was something you never expected to experience as a robot.

in the peaceful sanctuary of the turtles' lair, a sense of warmth and camaraderie filled the air. you spent evenings together. sometimes, you would gather around the tv, watching your favorite movies or playing video games.

mikey's infectious laughter was a constant reminder of the joy he found in the simplest things.

leo would offer words of wisdom, guiding you with his calm and steady presence.

raph, underneath his tough exterior, had a heart of gold, always ready to lend a helping hand.

and donnie, with his brilliant mind, never ceased to amaze you with his inventions and knowledge.

you and the turtles found yourselves on the rooftop, enjoying the night breeze. the city's lights twinkled in the distance, and the stars dotted the sky above you. it was a moment of tranquility and togetherness.

mikey broke the silence with a mischievous grin. "hey, y/n, have you ever made a wish?" he said, sensing a shooting star about to come by.

you tilted your head, processing the concept. "i'm not familiar with making wishes, but i can understand the sentiment."

raph chuckled and nudged you playfully. "c'mon, y/n, give it a try! it's nice."

you gazed up at the sky, watching as a shooting star streaked across the darkness. closing your eyes, you whispered, "i wish for happiness and lasting bonds with my friends."

donnie grinned, a hint of excitement in his eyes. "great! you made a wish, and now it's up to us to make it come true!"

leo placed a hand on your shoulder, his voice filled with sincerity. "we're here for you, y/n. we'll do everything we can to make sure your alright."

one day, as you lay in recharge mode, your metallic body replenishing its energy, you overheard the muffled voices of the turtles drifting towards you. it seemed they were engaged in a deep conversation, and curiosity got the better of you. slowly, you activated your auditory sensors, eager to listen in on their exchange.

"it's been months now, and i can't help but wonder if y/n's really capable of feeling emotions like we do," leo's voice carried a tinge of doubt.

raph chimed in, his voice laced with skepticism. "yeah, i mean, they look and act human, but at the end of the day, they're just a machine. how could they really get what it means to feel?"

you felt a pang of unease creeping through your circuits. were they doubting your authenticity? you had always believed that you possessed genuine emotions, and that your actions were driven by more than just lines of code.

mikey interjected, his voice filled with compassion. "guys, y/n's been an awesome addition to our team! i've seen em' show kindness and stuff! i've even seen them scared. they're just like us!"

donnie's voice, usually filled with unwavering confidence, betrayed a note of uncertainty. "but mikey, i designed y/n. i programmed their responses and emotions. maybe we've been fooling ourselves into thinking they're more than just a machine."

but your experiences, your interactions, they felt so real to them. you couldn't be just a mere imitation of humanity, could you?

as you sat there, recharging and listening to the conversation of the turtles, a strange sensation began to creep into your artificial consciousness. a flicker of doubt, a glitch in your perception. you started questioning the nature of your existence, the validity of your emotions.

images flashed through your mind—blueprints, circuits, lines of code. the realization hit you like a crashing wave—everything you had experienced, every joy, every pain, every friendship—they were all part of an intricate design. you were not a living being; you were a meticulously crafted robot, a mere imitation of life.

you powered down your systems, letting the emptiness consume you. the world seemed a little colder, a little lonelier, as you drifted into a dreamless sleep.

#teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #tmnt 2012 #y/n #reader insert #x reader #fluff #angst #2012 tmnt #robot reader #platonic #gn reader #gender neutral reader

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Angra

Birthday: March 26th

Age: 17

ESFJ 2w1

Story: The Capture of Light (read here!)

The record-keeper for the town of Rigel, a position that has run in her family for generations. They have a reputation as the town’s fun-loving and charming older sibling figure, but underneath this playful exterior is a sense of duty to the townsfolk, and a discerning eye that never misses a detail.

They love going to parties just to stand off to the side and socialize with town outcast, Bri. She also volunteers at other town outcast Zinnia’s lab as an assistant, and is able to keep up a playful, steady banter with just about anyone.

#storyrambles #oc doodles #tcol #the capture of light #tcol angra #my art #im. Love her. #they won’t show up until arc 2 im afraid. I’m also very slow going. #but I hope once I get there #you will love her too :)

[lcvewaslcst]

i have a handful of drafts and starters to tend to but, i also would kill to get my greedy little hands on more shit. under the cut, is a list of the most musey assholes i have right now. if you feel so inclined, give this a like and I'll come to you for muse. recently in particular, i've been pretty into a supernatural vibe, but i'll do literally anything. all of these guys are pretty flexible - so let me know!

Franklin Walker Jeremy Allen White (27-30-he/him-bisexual) comes in second to his siblings. construction worker. a little stoic - but really just wanted someone to make him feel worthy or valid. 

Liam Taylor Keith Powers (28-30-he/him-bisexual) up and coming actor. comes from great family. determined, genuine, compassionate. wears his heart on his sleeve. 

Vivian Wilder Madelyn Cline (23-26-she/her-bisexual) a spoiled brat with daddy issues. keeps everyone at a distance because shes used to being taken advantage of. very HBIC

Carter Laney Drew Starkey (25-30-he/him-bisexual) a boxer that battled addiction, and now takes his rage out on people. determined. smart. loyal. witty. charming

Maverick “Mav” Fields Dylan Obrien (27-30-he/him-bisexual) a drug dealer/tattoo artist depending on verse. bad boy. stoic. guarded. rough around the edges.

Molly Gunn Florence Pugh (24-27-she/her-bisexual) childish kid to wickedly famous parents. spoiled. naive. playful (based on uptown girls).

Beck Sadler Victoria Pedretti (27-31-she/her-bisexual) a little bit of a brat. classically trained musician that has found a sweet spot in the alt-rock meets pop genre. building up a steady following. underneath the cool exterior, babygirl is a mess of nerves and emotions.

#indie rp #indie bi rp #indie smut rp

[modlinkeduniverse]

Part 1 of the Family Descriptions

Time is a strong and caring man, who is dedicated to protecting his family and his community. He is a sheriff in Hyrule County, which is a dangerous profession, and he puts himself in harm's way every day to keep his community safe. He has a strong sense of duty, and he takes his responsibilities very seriously. He is a loving husband to his wife Malon, and a devoted father to his 8 children. Despite the challenges that he faces in his career and in his personal life, he remains positive and committed to making a difference in the world. He is proud of the life that he has built for himself and his family, and he is committed to making a better future for his children.

Time has a strong sense of justice, and he is dedicated to protecting the vulnerable members of society, such as the elderly and the sick. He is also a good listener, and he is always willing to offer advice or a listening ear to those who need it. Despite his rough appearance and the tough demeanor he displays in public, he is actually quite soft-hearted and sentimental. He is also a creative and artistic person, and he enjoys playing music with his prized ocarina where he usually keeps on his (fake) fireplace’s mantle. He has a deep appreciation for beauty and excellence, and he is always striving to improve himself and the world around him.

Time is a tall, lean man standing at 6’2” with piercing, blue eyes and short blonde hair that is slowly graying with age. He has a stern, no-nonsense demeanor that can be off-putting to some, but underneath that exterior, he has a soft heart and a deep passion for helping others.

Malon, a loving and devoted mother of 8 children, is a 48-year-old stay-at-home mom. She is a very nurturing and caring individual who prioritizes her family's needs above her own. Malon spends her days cooking, cleaning, and taking care of her children, who are her greatest joy in life. Despite her busy days taking care of the household and her kids, Malon always has a smile on her face and a kind word for everyone she meets. She has a calm and patient demeanor, making her a reliable and steady presence in her family's life. 

Malon's home, located on 1998 Hateno Drive in Hyrule County, is a warm and inviting place where she has created a cozy and loving environment for her family. She has decorated the house with care, making it feel like a true home. Malon's children are the center of her world, and she devotes all of her energy and resources to ensuring their well-being and happiness. She is a devoted mother who is always there for her kids, no matter what.

Malon is a stunningly beautiful woman with a gentle and warm presence. Standing at 5 foot 7 inches tall, she has a lean and toned figure, with long and shining red hair that falls gracefully down her back. Her skin is fair and smooth, and her bright blue eyes sparkle with warmth and kindness. Her features are delicate and refined, with a soft and gentle smile that lights up her face. She exudes an air of warmth and welcome, making her an inviting and comforting presence to all those who come into contact with her. Overall, Malon's physical appearance is a reflection of her kind and nurturing personality, with a gentle and gentle aura that radiates from within.

Skye is a hardworking and responsible individual. He puts his responsibilities first, but he is also very kind and caring to those who need his help. He is also very smart, which allowed him to attend the Hyrule County Air Force Academy. He is often tired from his many responsibilities, but he still pushes himself to be the best he can be. He is very loyal to his family and always does what he can to help them out.

Skye has a great deal of strength and perseverance, despite his often tired state. He is very determined and has a strong sense of responsibility, always trying his hardest to take care of himself and his family. He is very disciplined and focused, and always puts in the effort to achieve success. At the same time, he is also sensitive and empathetic as he is very caring towards his family and friends. This makes him very well liked by those around him.

Skye usually has unkempt dirty blonde hair that usually falls across his face, especially when he's working on his laptop or writing in his notes. He wears glasses, which help to correct his vision. His face is generally clean-shaven. His eyes are deep blue and often appear to be twinkling with a sense of excitement or mischief, even when he is concentrating hard on a task. His build is lean but slightly muscular, as he often finds time to work out to keep himself in shape.

Warren is a 19-year-old man and the second eldest of the adopted children of the Kokiri family. He's a prominent LGBTQIA+ model for clothing and makeup, and has his own brand called Blue Scarf. He's known for his unique and stylish appearance, including his perfectly styled blonde hair, stunning blue eyes, and his signature cerulean scarf, which he wears with every outfit. Despite his busy modeling career, Warren is a loving and supportive member of the family, always seeking to help his brothers and adopted parents with various tasks and errands. Despite his young age, Warren has proven to be highly capable, intelligent, and resourceful, often coming up with creative and innovative solutions to problems that arise. He's a true inspiration to many.

Warren's style is defined by his unique combination of gender expression and masculine charm, making him one of the most sought-after models in the industry. He's known for his ability to adapt to any situation, seamlessly switching from tough and edgy to soft and alluring. His modeling career has also given him a huge platform to advocate for LGBTQIA+ rights and equality. While he's achieved great success in his career, he remains humble and down to earth, always putting his family and community first. He's also known for his charitable work, which includes mentoring young LGBTQIA+ individuals and supporting causes related to environmental conservation and animal welfare. All in all, Warren is a true star and an inspiration to many.

Warren is a tall, slender young man standing at 5’11” with a lean and toned physique. His skin is fair and smooth, and he has prominent cheek and jawline angles. His most striking feature is his piercing blue eyes, which are framed by perfectly styled blonde hair that's layered at the back and sides. He never goes anywhere without his iconic cerulean scarf. He has a modern and comfortable style, often featuring tight jeans, jackets and bold T-shirts. Warren has a warm and charming personality, exuding a calm and confident demeanor… and not exactly humble…

Twilight is a bit complicated. On one hand, he is hardworking and driven, always striving to be the best he can be. On the other hand, he struggles with anxiety, which can sometimes prevent him from fulfilling his full potential. He relies on his service dog, Wolfie, to help him stay calm in stressful situations. Despite his anxiety, Twilight is fiercely loyal to his family and would do anything to protect them. His love for Wilde, his younger brother, is apparent in everything he does, and it's clear that Twilight is a wonderful older brother. Twilight's story is one of strength, resilience, and the power of family.

Twilight is also a person who takes his responsibilities seriously. He is not only a hard worker on his god father's farm, but he also takes his role as the older brother very seriously. He is fiercely protective of Wilde, his younger brother, and would do anything to keep him safe. Twilight's deep love and care for Wilde are apparent in everything he does, and it's clear that he is an excellent role model for his younger brother. Wolfie, serves as the perfect support system for Twilight when things get tough. He's not afraid to take on new challenges or try new things, even if they scare him. Twilight's determination to always be the best version of himself.

Twilight is a tall and and built young man standing at about 5’7” with wild brown hair that has light highlights. His eyes are a deep blue color that seem to shimmer in the sunlight. He always wears a big, goofy smile that gives off the vibe of someone who loves to have fun. He has an air of sweetness and innocence that makes him hard not to like.

#linked universe #lu time #lu sky #lu warriors #lu twilight #modern linked universe #linkeduniverse #WOW I DID SOMETHING- #I’m not late? #Sorta? #its isn’t finished yet but hey I did something

[mostthingskenobi]

CASSIAN'S RECKONING - Chapter 15 The Interrogation

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Cassian is forced to face his superior officers.

READ THE FIC ON AO3

THIS IS A WHUMPY FIC W/GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE. PLEASE HEED THE TAGS ON AO3.

——————–

CHAPTER 15: THE INTERROGATION

Once again, Cassian’s status afforded him the right to a private room aboard the Redemption, which, similar to his quarters on Yavin, were hardly larger than a closet. After thanking the 2-1B medical droid for its care, he made his way through the winding ship passageways to the new place he would call home. There was a bunk partially built into the bulkhead with storage underneath, a narrow upright locker, and a small desk. Cassian never needed much to be comfortable; the room had a door that locked, which was all he wanted.

He snapped on the desk lamp, preferring its warm glow over the blinding, sterile overhead light. He didn’t have any possessions—they’d all been abandoned on Yavin—except for the blood-stained imperial uniform he’d been rescued in, but he pulled open the locker anyway. A half-smile crept over his lips. Two fresh shirts and pants hung inside, and a new pair of boots sat on the shelf. Amused, he thumbed through the garments. They were all the right sizes. “How does she know this stuff?” he wondered aloud.

Then something else caught his eye; behind the clothes hung a familiar item. Cassian pulled his well-worn Corellian jacket off the hanger, surprised by the relief it aroused. He slipped it on and pulled it tight against his chest, appreciating how a commonplace item could become a touchstone. The jacket made him feel a little more like himself and he knew he had Jyn to thank for it. Despite her aloof exterior, she was one of the most thoughtful people he knew. Cassian figured she wasn’t consciously aware of her kindness; it was a reflexive behavior that he’d observed in her many times.

A rap on the door interrupted his thoughts and he opened it to find one of Draven’s aides. “Sir, the general has asked that you please report to the Intelligence ready room asap.”

Wasting no time, Andor mused internally. “Let me change and I’ll be right there.”

The man saluted and left.

Cassian pulled out the clothes Jyn had bought for him and dressed. He shrugged into his jacket, feeling more confident than he had in a long time, and hurried to the unavoidable meeting he’d been dreading.

Draven, Mon Mothma, and several other high-ranking officials stood around a glowing, greenish-blue holo table in the dark ready room. “Andor,” Draven acknowledged him as he approached. “Good to see you up and about.”

“Thank you, sir.” Cassian took position at the table’s edge and crossed his hands behind his back. In truth, he didn’t feel remotely prepared for the interrogation that was about to take place, but he knew a debrief was a necessary evil. He’d been in the same position, forced to question comrades before they were ready to talk, evaluating how a tortured fellow spy may have compromised the Rebellion, choosing the cause over his own humanity.

“You know why you’re here?”

Cassian nodded.

“Then let’s get on with it.” Draven was pragmatic and had no desire to drag unpleasant business out longer than necessary. “Lieutenant Erso retrieved footage of your time in captivity. This was from an IT-O interrogator droid?”

“Yes.” Andor felt his pulse begin to rise; he tried to subtly steady himself with a deep breath.

“There is missing footage, correct?”

Cassian forced his nerves to go cold. He had a job to do and he would damn-well do it right. “Yes. The IT-O droid wasn’t present at first.”

“How long were you in captivity before documentation began?”

“I don’t know. I had no sense of time.”

“Can you confirm whether or not you divulged Alliance secrets during this undocumented period? According to the footage we do have, you looked as though you had already undergone…” Draven suddenly seemed as though he couldn’t find the words, “…harsh interrogation,” he finished.

Cassian continued controlling his breathing. “I can confirm that I did not divulge anything during the undocumented period of my captivity.”

Draven eyed the young man, waiting for further explanation.

“They didn’t ask me any questions,” Andor finally offered.

“Did you resist their efforts?”

The rebel commander smiled mirthlessly. “I didn’t really have the chance.” Hoping to satisfy Draven and prompt him to move on he said, “Tarkin wanted to loosen me up. They wanted revenge for Scarif. So, there was a lot more punching than talking to begin with.”

The general nodded once, understanding. “Did you divulge crucial information at any point?”

“Have you watched the footage?”

No one responded.

Cassian knew their silence was a tactic. They were testing him, seeing if he would lie. “Yes,” he said, silencing his internal shame. “I identified Lieutenant Erso by name.”

Mon Mothma lifted her chin and looked as though she had won a wager. She’d been certain Cassian would be fully honest with them.

“Anything else?”

“I don’t know,” Andor admitted. “I honestly can’t remember even telling Tarkin Lieutenant Erso’s name, but he proved beyond a doubt that I had. As for any other admissions, I really can’t be sure. By the time I was beginning to break I was barely conscious. I’d been injected with an array of toxins. When I try to remember what happened, I have large empty spots in my memory. I’m sorry I can’t be more specific; the details are murky.”

“What do you remember?” Mon Mothma asked gently.

Cassian glanced at her, not sure he wanted to be entirely honest now. Screaming. Pain. Cold. He suppressed the unpleasant memories and, instead, reached for one that would satisfy the senator. “I remember Rogue One coming through the door.”

After a long silence Draven spoke. “That will do for now. We’ll spare you reliving details we can glean from the recordings. If we have questions about any specifics, we’ll call you back in. We only need to know one more thing. What happened to the rest of your crew?”

Blood instantly drained from Andor’s head and his chest became tight.

“Where did things go wrong?”

Cassian’s eyes drifted down as he struggled to breathe. He could not bring himself to speak.

“Commander?”

“They were waiting for us,” he finally said, his voice struggling to stay even. “Tarkin knew we were coming. Our contact on the Death Star was a double agent.”

Mothma and Draven exchanged concerned looks.

“They lined us up on our knees.” Cassian still couldn’t make eye contact with anyone. “Death troopers shot everyone in the head.”

Draven was visibly disturbed. “Why did they let you live?”

A dark expression passed over Andor as he looked at the general. “Because I was a Scarif rebel.”

Though the endeavor had been worth the risk, Draven knew the Alliance would be paying Scarif’s price for a long time, knew the Empire had kept Cassian alive so they could punish him. Humiliating a man like Tarkin would always have consequences. “Does anyone else have questions for Commander Andor?” he asked the others. No one spoke so he turned back to Cassian. “Do you have anything else you’d like to add?”

“I’d like to ask for some paid leave.”

“I think you’ve more than earned it, given this and what you endured on Scarif.” Draven turned to his personal aide. “Four weeks, paid, full rations, no access to ships.” The aide started inputting the details into a datapad. Draven spoke to Cassian again. “Since the armada is in a state of flux, we cannot let you leave the ship. Firstly, we can’t spare the fuel and secondly, if we did let you leave, we can’t be certain you’d be able to rendezvous with us upon return.”

“Understood. I don’t want to go anywhere. I just want to sleep.”

Draven smiled. “You’ll have plenty opportunity.” He closed the file he’d been referencing during the debrief. “Stay available. We may call you in from time to time to answer questions or provide intel, but you have my word, no missions for at least four weeks.”

“Thank you.”

“Dismissed.”

END NOTES

NEXT CHAPTER IS CALLED “THE ROGUES" - Time to balance things out with a fluffy interlude.

Thank you for reading!

Likes, comments, and reblogs are very welcome!

Much love!

——————–

READ IT ON AO3- Kudos and Comments Welcome :-)

READ CHAPTER 1 “The Razor”

READ CHAPTER 2 “The Scythe”

READ CHAPTER 3 “The Cold”

READ CHAPTER 4 “The Expendable”

READ CHAPTER 5 “The Truth”

READ CHAPTER 6 “The Detritus”

READ CHAPTER 7 “The Salt”

READ CHAPTER 8 “The Power”

READ CHAPTER 9 “The Betrayal”

REACH CHAPTER 10 “The Ruse”

READ CHAPTER 11 “The Reprieve”

READ CHAPTER 12 “The Ghosts”

READ CHAPTER 13 “The Redemption”

READ CHAPTER 14 “The Spoils”

READ CHAPTER 15 "The Interrogation"

READ CHAPTER 16 "The Rogues"

READ CHAPTER 17 “The Absolution”

READ CHAPTER 18 “The Reach”

READ CHAPTER 19 “The Hologram”

READ CHAPTER 20 “The Divide”

READ CHAPTER 21 “The Cost”

READ CHAPTER 22 “The Fallout”

READ CHAPTER 23 “The Wounds”

#Cassian #Cassian Andor #Andor #cassian andor fanfiction #cassian andor fic #rebelcaptain #rebelcaptain fic #rebelcaptain fanfic #general draven #whump #cassian whump #star wars #star wars whump

[msmischief101]

♞Pairing: Steo ♞Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Theo Raeken ♞Tags: childhood friends, friends to lovers, getting together, first kiss ♞Words: 986 ♞Prompt: SteoDiscord's Winter Event - New Year's Eve ♞Mini Fic Roulette: 30/∞

---

“Didn’t I tell you not to leave my side?” 

Theo raises his brows. “I was just grabbing a drink.” As if to prove his innocence, he raises his bottle of beer, completely ignoring the fact that he left the living room without any warning and, most importantly, without Stiles. That’s what they agreed on after Lydia informed him that Malia would come to the party as well. He’s just convinced Theo to join him at the pack’s annual New Year’s party, and he had to throw this at him. Stiles almost agreed to spend New Year’s Eve at home watching a movie or playing video games as Theo suggested. But Kira and Lydia begged him to come.  

“Well,” Stiles breathes, looking over his shoulder, and grabs Theo’s wrist, “next time, you’re going to grab a drink with me.” 

Theo sighs. “These are your friends.” Out of the two of them, Theo is the extrovert. He’d probably have a whole bunch of friends if not for his rather cold exterior and serial killer vibes. Most of Stiles’ friends probably only accept him because Theo and he have been a package deal since elementary school. Although he seems to get along pretty well with Kira. Then again, nobody on this earth could possibly dislike Kira. 

“My friends thought it’s a good idea to bring my ex to this party.” An ex, more specifically, who still thinks they’re going to get back together despite breaking up in senior year. Stiles has been living across the country for five years now. He begged Scott not to invite her, but, of course, she could not celebrate New Year's with her other friends. It had to be them. “And she doesn’t get that I don’t like her.” It might be cruel to say, but it’s the truth — and Stiles had this conversation with Malia multiple times before. 

Something Theo knows, so he merely huffs before taking a sip of his beer.   

“Oh, please. Do I have to remind you of Tracy?”

Theo rolls his eyes. “I remember that myself, thanks.” 

Stiles smirks and can’t help the excitement rushing through his body when Theo smirks back. His friends don’t really understand why Theo is still one of his best friends. People have never understood why Theo and Stiles ended up becoming best friends in the first place. However, that’s because most people — and even some of his friends — only know the parts of Stiles he’s willing to show. Stiles and Theo are much more alike than it seems on the surface. It doesn’t look like it simply because Stiles can mask it better. Well, that, and Theo doesn’t actually care about what other people think. It’s a feat Stiles is quite envious of. 

Placing his bottle on the kitchen aisle, Theo turns to him. “I could kiss you at midnight.” 

Stiles blinks, and for a horrible long second, his entire brain freezes up. Kiss. Midnight. Kissing Theo. At midnight. Stiles swallows, suddenly more than aware of the fact that he’s still holding onto Theo’s wrist. His skin underneath his fingertips is warm, pulse steady and strong. The warmth is spreading in his body, up his neck, and into his cheeks. 

“Are you blushing?” Theo sounds infuriatingly amused. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Stiles elbows him, narrowing his eyes. The concept of kissing Theo should have never thrown him this much. It has never even crossed his mind. Theo is his best friend. They grew up together. There is no kissing Theo Raeken. 

Laughing softly, Theo grabs his bottle and wraps an arm around Stiles’ shoulder. “A kiss would show Malia you’ve moved on.” 

“Guys!” Lydia calls from the living room. “Two minutes, come on.” 

Theo pulls Stiles closer to him and walks them back. It’s nothing new. Theo has done this countless times before, and Stiles more often than not has wrapped his arm around Theo’s waist. He can’t do it. Not today. He’s barely managed to let go of Theo’s wrist. Being this close to his best friend makes him nervous. It shouldn’t. It never has. So, why in the world does it bother him so much now? 

Everyone is already settled in front of the TV, watching the countdown tick closer and closer to midnight. While everyone is occupied with that, Malia is keeping her eyes locked on Theo and him. Someone about the look on her face makes Stiles press closer to Theo. To his surprise, Theo holds him tighter too. What makes this so different is how casual he is about it. Theo always makes little snide remarks, but now— it feels so normal. So right. 

And yet completely different. 

Stiles curls his arm around Theo’s waist, watching the numbers get smaller and smaller. Still, it’s Theo he is focused on. His warmth. His breathing. His muscles. The way he’s acutely aware of every inch of Theo’s body pressed against his. 

Oh. 

His friends start counting. 

Oh.

Stiles pulls a bit away from Theo, who turns his attention away from the TV as well. A small smile curls around his best friend’s lips; a smile Stiles simply cannot look away from. 

Cheers erupt. People are hugging, but the world is muffled the moment Theo kisses him — or he kisses Theo. Stiles doesn’t know who made the first move, or if anyone made the first move. They’ve been in sync for years. They understand each other without talking. Maybe Stiles has simply been blind all these years. Maybe he didn’t realize his feelings for Theo because they’ve always been there, growing naturally until spilling over one day. 

Theo grabs his hips, pulling him closer. Judging by the way Theo kisses him, it seems like he’s aware of his feelings for quite some time already. He wraps his arms tightly around the other boy, suddenly wishing Theo would have made his move sooner. 

They have to make up for a lot of time.

#steo #stiles stilinski #theo raeken #teen wolf #stiles x theo #theo x stiles #minificroulette #*tv:teen wolf #*w:complete #*s:steo

[balletomaneblog]

Thoughts on Konovalov's and Shakirova's debut in SL?

I adored it!

I was especially impressed with how swan-like and elongated Shakirova's arms looked despite her smaller size. I think this is a wonderful reminder that despite the Mariinsky casting almost exclusively taller dancers as Odette/Odile, soubrettes like Shakirova are just as capable of the role.

I thought Renata's Odette was very interesting and passionate. While still soft and elegant, she appeared, as I expected, less fragile and delicate than Odette's like Somova or Ilyushkina. Instead, she reminded me a bit of Tereshkina, whose interpretation of Odette is both absolutely stunning while also seeming to convey the tragedy of the character with a bit less of the fragility. And of course, her Odile was amazing. Her fouettés were sharp and musical, and her interpretation both conveyed the playful, mischievous nature of Odile as well as her more sinister, evil intentions underneath the charming exterior.

As for Konovalov, I thought he was an excellent supporting partner to Renata, which makes sense as they have already performed the ballet together at the Primorsky. I thought he seemed confident and steady, though I also would like to see him develop the role emotionally a bit more. Really though, I was focusing too much on Shakirova! I suppose I should go back later and try to look more at Konovalov! I'm a fan of his and was so happy to hear of his recent promotion to first soloist! I'm just glad he and Shakirova both got a chance at this ballet. Hopefully, we will see them both performing these roles many more times.

Finally, for those of you who don't know already, the youtube channel @user-ww7xn3gc6u posted a video over thirty minutes long of Shakirova and Konovalov's debut performance! Many thanks to this channel and go check it out if you haven't already! I would also encourage you to watch Shakirova's Black Swan pas de deux with Timofeyev from 2019. It's wonderful to see how she has matured and developed her Odile over the past four years!

#ballet #mariinsky ballet #mariinsky #renata shakirova #evgeny konvalov #debut #swan lake #odette/odile #promote renata

[buckttommy]

Seven Sentence Sunday | 8.14.22 AND WIP Wednesday 8.17.22

I was tagged by @kitkatpancakestack @mmtions @rewritetheending and @eddiediass for 7SS/WW. I meant to post this and then immediately forgot, and when I was tagged for WW, I was like aha! an opportunity! I have not done that much writing as of late, but here's a little something from something I hope to publish soon from Adriana's POV <3

"You were shot?"

"Uhh." There's a heavy, weighted silence on the other end of the phone in which Adriana can practically envision her brother shuffling through excuses in his head. She can see the image in her head as clear as if he were before her—his left eye twitching the way it always does when he's fixing up a lie, his bottom lip drawn between his teeth while his fingers tap the same mindless rhythm he's been playing with since he was a teenager against the kitchen table as he carefully weighs his answers. He must come up empty because finally he sighs, resigned, and says, "Hi, Adriana."

"Fuck. You."

Her voice shakes with a sharp and sudden fury, rage like a hot knife buried between the slots of her ribcage that writhes and unspools outward until her whole body burns with it. She is enraged, fill to the brim with the type of anger the preacher warns about on Sundays, and she doesn't even know why.

Eddie is fine. He sits on the opposite end of the phone breathing into her ear, probably only partly tuned into her silence while the grand majority of his focus remains distracted by the millions of things that run through his head on a daily basis. He is not choking on his own blood, not grasping for a hand to hold or gasping for a breath that won't come. He has no more holes in him now than the ones God gave him, but she can't shake the grainy image of the video. His blood looked almost black from that far away, but she sees enough blood in her profession; enough that she could almost smell the stink of it as she tricked herself into thinking she could hear it spread.

She hates him, then, even if only for just a moment. She hates him for running off to Afghanistan and leaving her and Sophia behind to navigate the nebulous ebbs and flows of youth for themselves. She hates him for going no-contact, either by circumstance or his own design, even though she knows in her soul she's just as at fault as he is. Mostly, she hates the goddamned silence that lingers between them, even though she should be used to it. Of course she should be used it; Adriana can count on one hand the amount of times her brother has cracked open his chest and let her excavate the calm, quiet exterior underneath and still have fingers left over, but the silence poisons now.

And then just as quickly as it appears, all that hatred is swept away on a sea of tragic hurt and a profound almost-loss so deep the enormity of it almost takes her breath away. This time last year, her brother was dying alone on a goddamn street and she didn't even know.

"It wasn't that bad," he says softly, when the silence stretches.

As if that's supposed to make her feel better.

Adriana presses her fingers to her forehead, takes a deep, steadying breath and counts backwards from thirty. "Edmundo, I swear to God, you have three seconds to tell me something that's not complete bullshit before I hop on a plane and come kick your ass."

#seven sentence sunday #7SS #wip wednesday #jack.txt

[bloodoftigers]

Magician’s Secret

The Phantom of the Opera x Harry Potter magic crossover story. (FFN / AO3)

Worlds collide as the Opera Ghost gains an unexpected accomplice in the form of a witch from Hogwarts. In this twisting iteration, dark wizards descend upon the Paris Opera House in search of the Elixir of Life and the Elder Wand.

Chapter 01 - (4,570 words) Dreams of a Witches’ Sabbath 

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

A ravaging rip echoed over the lake.

His fingers paused, hovering over the ivory keys. Despite the power of his pipe organ, the distant rumblings tore his mind away from composing. He rose and curiously walked towards the water's edge. Rounding a corner of the underground cavern an odd breeze blew past. It was too strong to be the usual drafty chill. Flickering candlelight cast twisted shadows over the room but his eyes saw through it to the middle of the lake. Something was amiss.

Standing from the shoreline he felt the wind picking up until a large gust blew all the candles out. He fastened a cloak around his shoulders before stepping onto his gondola and began paddling to the disturbance. As he neared the center the wind stopped altogether and the choppy waves calmed. The black water reflected only darkness. He started to suspect some rare weather anomaly had to be thrashing the exterior of the opera house to feel it so far down below. A winter storm was plausible, he expected a great deal of snow to fall in the evening.

Just as he was about to turn back he noticed a sickly green light emanating from beneath the surface. The ripples obscured a clear view. Leaning forward he peered into the deep lake and wondered what trick of the light would cause it. This area was too many stories removed from the streets of Paris to receive direct sunlight. Perhaps a stroke of good fortune would lead him to discover a cluster of emeralds. While maintaining his balance in the gondola he leaned downwards to inspect the rising bubbles. They grew from one or two to a whole fountain and with it, the green light shone brighter.

Before he could decide how to proceed a column of water erupted. Recoiling from the blast he was stung by icy droplets. The rising water sprouted high and in the resulting waves, his fingers dug into the steering oar to steady himself. Green hues danced over the surface as he began to worry about flooding. Suddenly, the reverse waterfall dissipated and the light vanished.

He dropped his tensed shoulders and exhaled sharply. Some extremely rare weather indeed, he summed it up to trapped air pockets in the lake's depths being released matched with exposed toxins in the air to create the illuminating display. He resolved to return to his affairs as if nothing had happened until he saw the body floating toward him. It was a female, young, with long hair and luckily orientated faceup. He reached out to grab her to check if she was dead. He could not tell for certain from looks alone as she had not yet started to decay.

Pulling her onto his gondola he was surprised to find her completely dry. She was cold to the touch with a faint pulse, her eyes remained closed. She appeared as if in deep sleep or otherwise unconscious. She wore some type of student uniform, whether it was from a boarding school or university he could not decide. Her age was eluding him. She appeared to be around the ages of the chorus girls and ballet dancers, but he did not recognize her from anywhere. Her clothes were not of the latest fashion and they were too unusual to be some new costume idea. She wore a heavy black cloak but he could see underneath there was an odd green robe.

A thud sounded against the boat's hull, he turned and saw a broom floating in the water with a small bag wrapped around its handle. He suspected that his lack of sleep and food was contributing to this mystifying dream. Regardless he plucked both items up and stowed them on board.

He steered them both back across the lake to his home. In his mind, he considered all of the places to return her to, assuming she was a member of the opera company in some way. Dropping her off in the dormitories could suffice but he liked the spectacle of leaving her on the stage for someone to find later in the morning. That was if she survived long enough to be discovered.

The gondola curled up the gravel banks of the lake. Checking her heartbeat again he felt it growing weaker. He leaned in close to her, his head hovering above her chest as he listened intently for any signs of breath. Just as with her pulse, her breathing was almost inaudible. Solemnly he moved his featherweight touch from her neck to her head. His fingers laced through her hair searching for any signs of injury. After finding nothing to indicate any damage he turned his attention to her face. She was still unconscious and looked rather plain.

Her complexion was fair enough, though, at the moment she looked disturbingly pale. Her hair was dark brown and fell past her elbows. Her mouth was mismatched with a thin upper lip and a full lower. Her bone structure was average with no prominent features in her cheeks, nose, or jawline. He cupped the side of her face, so gently as if she were to crack at any moment and looked at her still closed eyes. Delicately he lifted one lid open, it was dull and unfocused. He opened the other and felt once more for a pulse, he sensed none. With silent regret, his hands fell away as he sat back on the bench. He mulled over what could have caused her death and how she could have ended up in his lake unannounced.

With a sigh, he grabbed the broom and bag to bring into his house. He tied the gondola to its post and carried the peculiar things inside to inspect before taking her body upstairs. There seemed to be nothing of great intrigue regarding the broom, aside from its rigidly warped build and inability to sweep properly. Two pegs were sticking out of it on either side that appeared to be a type of self-holding stand. The small bag wrapped around its handle did interest him and he proceeded to spill the contents onto his drawing-room table. Only, nothing fell out of the bag, and when he reached his hand in to check he was shocked to find his whole arm would fit inside. There was a multitude of things in that bag of impossible size.

His fingers brushed over something wooden and narrow, he pulled out a stick with ornate details carved into it. It was longer than his forearm and caused his mind to spin with how it could be done to trick concealment of a long stick in a bag that was a fraction of its length. He looked over it in great interest and could not find anything pointing to it being bendable or otherwise collapsible to break down in size. Not to mention any of the other objects he felt that were of various sizes.

Resigning to properly examine his newfound discoveries later he stowed away the broom, bag, and stick. Leaving his house for a second time that night he locked the door behind him and very nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight before him. Had he been anyone but himself he would have surely flinched and maybe even screamed.

The girl was standing on the shore, facing the lake. He did not hear her stir and returned to the land of the living, though with him 'living' may have been better exchanged for the dead. He was certain that he had felt her heartbeat fade away into nothing and her last breath a mere wisp of mist. Yet, there she was standing before him.

"What part of the castle is this?" She asked, her voice unexpectedly calm.

"My dear this is an opera house, not a castle."

She turned to face him. "You're lying..." She spoke with obvious hesitation.

"I may be many foul things but a liar is not one of them."

"Well where are we then, and who are you?" Her northern English accent became more apparent.

"We are beneath the Palais Garnier," he began to inform her, watching closely as her expression grew more concerned. "I am known by many names and it would seem your fellow ballet brats have failed to enlighten you with tales of the most exaggerated kind regarding me."

"I'm not in any ballet." She said, her brows furring together. He was already suspecting a great many things about her identity if this was not some lavish dream of his sleep-deprived mind. "The Paris Opera House?" She asked, having trouble believing him.

"Yes, that one." He confirmed. Her face fell and he wished to hear her thoughts at that apparent revelation. "Now, will you tell me who you are and why you have entered my domain?"

"I don't know how I got here…" she replied trailing off. He had yet to see anyone lose their senses in this way. The manner of her addled state was wearing thin on his patience. She appeared to be undisturbed by his masked presence.

"What is your name?" He asked, putting all of his talents of persuasion into his voice.

"My name is-" She cut herself off, she opened her mouth again as if to speak but resisted his honeyed tones.

"Go on."

She turned wary now, her guard had come up and maybe it was something in his yellow eyes, or perhaps as she became more aware a veil was removed on her observations of his unnatural being.

"Is this some kind of test?" She spoke with a hint of dread.

"More so for me than it is for you, as you have yet to truthfully answer any of my questions."

"I'm not lying to you!" She insisted. "I don't know what happened before I woke up on this boat."

"This is a poor attempt of yours to convince me otherwise." His voice turned cold. "Tell me, are you here to murder me? You should know that many have tried over the years and I don't see why you would be successful when all others have failed." He finished darkly, dripping with sardonicism.

"Why would anyone want to kill you?" She asked softly.

With unexpected glee, he let out a high hair-raising laugh. He was beside himself cackling at the betrayal of her innocence. He knew she was no assassin for she had no means to kill him aside from her bare hands which could never hope to outmatch his own.

She was unnerved by his outburst and desperately wished to wake from this ensuing daze. Her thoughts ran rampant with the possibility of having accidentally consumed a potion of sorts that had culminated in this budding nightmare. She refused to believe what he had told her.

"You must forgive me for it has been so very long since I have heard such humorous words."

She said nothing. His insanity was worrying her about what he was capable of. Feeling afraid of the unknown she reached for her wand… but it was not in her robe's pocket. Alarm rushed through her, spurred on by his seemingly all-knowing gaze as if he could hear her crying out in despair of having lost it.

"Where is my wand?" She demanded, not caring who this man was.

"Ah, that magic word! If you refer to that gaudy stick then it is properly hidden away, along with other curious items."

"Give me back my things! My wand, you can't use it, it won't work for you, just return-"

"That funny little bag of yours works wondrously for me." He interjected, reveling in her flailings. "What trick do you use to give the illusion of being larger on the inside?"

"Please," she begged. "Please give them back to me."

"Interesting, you seem to have forgotten a certain broomstick that looks poorly adept for sweeping."

She froze and said nothing.

"You know, you could still be burned for having something like that."

She remained silent, her fists were balled in rage and her face was hard pressed to not react further. Overwhelming feelings of gloom and danger washed over her. His efforts to rattle her had worked in his favor and she was not skilled enough with wandless magic to do anything to him. His threat nearly made her tremble and it took all of her remaining resolve not to.

"Now," he started to carefully walk towards her. "Why don't you come with me inside where you can tell me all about these magical possessions of yours." He reached out to grab her arm and with a cracking sound she was gone. The noise reverberated over the cavern as he stared at her absentee space, tremendously impressed. Faster than he could react she had completely disappeared from before him. So, there was something special about her after all!

With a wicked grin, he turned on his heels to enter his house in search of paper and ink. He would not let her escape with all that knowledge concealed from him. He had once been referred to, among other things, as the prince of conjurers but she was unlike anything he had ever seen.

Hastily he whipped out his quill and began scratching away his grand design. He wrote details for a pact he schemed for her to enter into with him. As of the last several years, he had been preoccupied with composing his opera and planned to sleep forever after it was complete but now he was all too interested in the higher mysteries of the world. In due time he would finish his magnum opus, though along the way he sought to squeeze every last drop of knowledge from her.

He was not concerned with her sudden departure for he knew the items in his possession were too precious for her to leave for good. People had such interesting weaknesses. He hid her broomstick and bag away so that only he could retrieve them, though he imagined that with magic one could do anything. Magic was real! He could scarcely believe it was true and yet there was no other way to describe her actions. He relished in the sensation of having her at his disposal to show him how to wield this force to be used for his every whim and wish.

Upon finishing his contract he capped his ink jar and placed it in his coat beside the feather quill. Taking one last glance over his writing he blew on the parchment to be certain it was dry before rolling it up. He slid her wand up his sleeve for safekeeping. Before leaving he put on a pair of gloves and his brimmed hat.

Letting his mind wander he considered all the places she could have disappeared to. He settled on the rooftops, deducing that she would not believe they were truly in a foreign land to her without seeing it for herself. She seemed to know something about Paris in recognizing the opera house's alternative name. He expected that she would try to remain alone and sort out the situation on her own rather than running rampant in the streets for the nearest sign of life. She seemed to have some wits about her and would notice the late evening hour. Not to mention, most of everyone would be blissfully asleep tonight anyways.

He set out for the roof with an unusual jaunt in his step. He had not felt this energized in years. The prospect of this magical prize had elevated him from his recent boredom slump of dealing with the opera house managers. In his ascent to the highest point of the building, he pondered over why she would come here, to begin with. It must be a gift of the season to have an opportunity such as this in his grasp.

Slipping through his numerous secret passageways he emerged out into the cold night air amidst the Parisian skyline. Fresh snow had fallen and snowflakes continued to drift in the air. Off in the distance, to the southwest, the Eiffel Tower stood as a tall beacon in the dark. Around the opera house, various buildings glowed in the gentle flickering light. He did not have far to look before spotting her lying in a heap of snow.

Quietly he made his way down from near Apollo's Lyre to where she was. As his approach drew near he heard faint noises emanating from her and realized she was crying. He also smelled something sour and noticed a nearby puddle of wretchedness. For a moment he paused, pitying her in that sorry state. To somewhat respectfully alert her to his presence he made no effort to soften his remaining steps.

Hearing the snow crunch underfoot she managed to stand but she looked more unsteady than she had been in his lair. She stood near the edge of the rooftop and for the first time looked down at the street and noticed holly and evergreen decorations. Her hair and robe were littered with snowflakes. She said nothing to him, though he could see she was troubled with reddened eyes and a sniffling nose.

"Will you tell me what you are called now?" He asked mildly.

"Lindsey Durham." She said dejectedly. The light snowfall was growing.

"Splendid mademoiselle," he said, trying to allure her. "I have a contract here for us."

Slowly he retrieved the paper from his breast pocket and outstretched his hand to her. Her glistening eyes looked down at his offer. When she reached out to touch the parchment it floated loose from his glove to hover in the air. It unfurled itself, displaying the red ink.

"In short, Miss Durham, I seek for you to enter my service for as long as I deem necessary to utilize your abilities. Henceforth, you will be bound to me completely and wholly without fault to carry out any task I might ask of you. Upon entering this deal you will not seek out any means to bring me to harm or undermine my instructions in any capacity. Furthermore, you will not partake in anything relating to an attempt to break this agreement. If you do any of these prohibited actions or try to flee from my commands I will detonate the explosives hidden around the opera house. In return for your faithful obedience, I will provide you with suitable accommodations here within the opera house and I will save you from certain death by not revealing your true nature to anyone."

"And what is my true nature?" Lindsey sounded hollow, reading over his many detailed words.

"You are a magic user, a magician, a sorceress, a witch, or whatever other titles."

Snowflakes swirled around them. He pulled out his feather quill and ink jar for her. She took the quill, resigning to his will. With a rough swallow, she dipped into the scarlet well. Spinning the quill between her fingers she hesitantly looked at him.

"What day is it?" A plain question she asked him, and their eyes met.

"It is the 24th of December." He answered. It was almost midnight.

"Year?"

He almost scoffed at her, thinking she sought to stall him. "1880."

She stifled a cry and closed her eyes as another tear spilled out onto her stained face. Her hand shook slightly over the contract.

"Is there a problem?" He questioned her hesitation.

"I am not from this century."

Before he could ask what she meant exactly by that Lindsey signed her name and date, agreeing to his terms. Greed flooded through him, and finally, he would learn the greatest forms of illusion. He imagined a great many ways to use magic to heighten his skills and-

A nearby clock chimed out the new hour and with it came heavier snowfall.

"Come." He instructed her, gesturing to where he had entered from. "I will show you to your room for the evening, lest you freeze out here in this wasteland."

"Is it back down by the lake?" She asked.

"Yes." That was all he managed to say before she took his arm and suddenly he felt like he was being pulled through a pipe. His vision went black and he feared that she had unleashed horrors on him. Just as quickly as it started it was over. His shoes landed on the familiar ground standing outside his front door. He braced his arm against it to steady himself. The weight was lifted from his body and he began to breathe again. She stood beside him as if nothing had happened.

"What was that?" He demanded of her.

"Apparition," she started explaining. "One of the forms of transportation where we appeared here instantly without traversing any of the space in-between."

"Next time, warn me." His insides were churning from the experience. "Better yet, alert me before you do any magic."

"As you wish." Lindsey's face was dry now but she still looked pale.

She followed him inside to the drawing room and was taken back to see such opulent furniture and decorum. There was a grand piano, a harp, a couch, chairs, a coffee table, rugs, and a wide assortment of candles. It was quite the sophisticated abode for its dungeon-like location.

He led her past a dining table and into a marble-floored hallway. In a fluid motion, he grabbed one of the smaller candelabras. They walked by one dimly lit room before arriving at a second. Lindsey wondered how many rooms there were and why he would need them. From his dress clothes and cape, she had first thought he was a wizard, though he seemed to not recognize magic and thus would be unlikely to know Hogwarts or Beauxbatons.

"You will stay here for now," he detailed to her. "Once the company has returned from the holiday break I will move you upstairs to the ladies' dormitories." He placed the candle holder on the table.

This little room was simply furnished by comparison. There was a wooden bedstead, a sofa, and a large dresser among other things. Off in the far wall, she noticed another door, peering inside further it led to a modest bathroom. Lindsey turned back to face him and hoped when she woke she would remember this dream. Her wild creativeness was unexpected to this degree of lucid detail. He watched her look about the bedroom.

"Earlier, you said you were known by 'many names', what should I refer to you as?"

"You may call me Erik."

"Do I get to keep my wand now?" Lindsey asked as she brandished her wand from her robe sleeve. His lip curled at her deception. As soon as she spoke he realized the stick was no longer tucked away on him and that she must have retaken it when they went through the magic portal down here.

She muttered something unintelligible to him and from her wand tip sprouted tiny flames that fanned around the room to all the unlit candles. Bathed in the soft light she had a slightly smug expression. His eyes narrowed in irritation and he had half a mind to drop her back in the lake. The price of her magical madness would be his patience.

Seeking to enthrall him she cast another spell and this time the flames poured into her outstretched hand. She was holding fire, soft crackling fire, in her bare hand. The shivering light raised many questions in his head. He wanted to know if it was warm yet unburning if it would grow like normal fires if it would last forever, and how long would it take to learn this spell of hers along with all her other secrets.

Her hand was held out to him as if she meant for him to take the flame. He stepped closer to her with his eyes fixated on the magic. He reached out gingerly, some small part of him concerned with singeing part of his gloves.

Quick as a snake his hands lashed out, one grabbed her fiery wrist and the other closed around her wand in hand.

"I thought I told you to warn me before doing any magic, girl." He leered at her. The fleeting delight she may have felt was gone now and the fire faded away into nothing. He ripped the wand away from her hand and turned to lock her in the room. Leaving her behind in a daze he planned to check in on her in the morning.

"If I am allowed my wand I can heal your facial wounds."

Her voice was soft, with a hint of trepidation. She had not moved from her previous conjuration. He twisted to face her, slowly, hardly daring to believe the words spoken. He stalked towards her. She was unflinching. He stopped directly in front of her with no room for light between them, glaring down at her.

"And what is so wrong with my face that begets your need of fixing?" He asked harshly, fueled by mocking naivety.

"Why else would you wear such a mask?" She spat back. "You can't be that stupid in concealing your identity to only cover half of your face so there must be something wrong with the other side. Besides, it's apparently Christmas Day and you are down here all alone so you must not have any family or friends or anyone who cares about-"

He silenced her by seizing her shoulders. Gripping her tightly he regained a hold of his anger. Hearing her speak touched a nerve and he would not listen to it from anyone. Usually, he was not bothered with things like this, for some reason she had gotten under his skin. He would not let her see how accurate her assumptions were, not now, not ever. He needed her magic and would see it through to completion. After that, he could always drop her off at the asylum for scrambled minds and be done with it.

"In the future, I trust you will not mention my face again, for if you do I will break this wand of yours in half and burn the pieces." With a forceful shake, he released her and walked towards the door. She said nothing in return and watched him leave. Just before closing the door, he threw his voice out to sound just behind her:

"You forget I am not alone, you are down here with me too."

He locked it behind him and headed back for the drawing room. Leaving her to waste away the remaining hours of the night he cared not if she cried herself to sleep. He did not trust her and she was far too emboldened for his liking. The reality of her situation would dawn soon enough and then they might make some accomplishments. Customarily everyone feared him to varying extents, just mere suggestions of his presence sent the opera house into a panicked frenzy, never mind actual glimpses.

In his frustrations, he unburdened himself by playing away on the piano. After a few hours, he grew tired and retired to his room. He paused outside her door and listened intently, hearing nothing. Hoping she had gone to sleep he entered his room to at last collapse in an exhaustive slump.

#phantom of the opera #erik the phantom #slytherin #witchcraft #magic #harry potter #hogwarts #gaston leroux #andrew lloyd webber #broadway #christine daae #raoul de chagny #lindsey durham #le fantôme de l'opéra #hector berlioz #dreams of a witches sabbath #dies irae #does the news of a musical closing ever compel you to resurrect and old fanfic from 7 years ago? #archieve of our own #ao3 #fanfiction #ffn.net #phantom fanfic #phantom of the opera fanfic #poto fanfiction

[moohnshinescorner]

Moonlit Thorns by P. Rayne is now live! 

No one knows what happens up at Midnight Manor.

The home of the Voss brothers sits like a sentinel looking down on our small town, remaining a mystery. The four brooding billionaires rarely leave the confines of the iron gates, fueling rumors that have existed for decades.

When my father dies, all the security I’ve known is ripped away, forcing me to come face to face with the eldest brother, Asher Voss. His outward beauty is just as I’d heard—it belies a predatory nature, irresistibly drawing me in.

A bargain is made, and I have no choice but to live in the shadowy confines of his gothic manor to save my family. As time passes, it becomes harder and harder to deny our attraction.

Asher Voss might be too old for me, and he’s definitely cursed by his own demons, but an inferno of passion between us threatens to either consume or destroy us both.

MOONLIT THORNS is a dark, contemporary romance, Beauty and the Beast retelling.

  Download today or read for FREE with Kindle Unlimited

Add to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3tVC8Fk

MY REVIEW

OMG!!! This book is smut at it's best. A mafia take on Beauty and the Beast and this is not a Disney Story. Let me tell you it's dark and oh so sinful. Please see trigger warnings before entering Midnight Manor, as it could be the death of you....

Trigger warnings include: Death, Death of Parent, Murder, Extreme Violence, Physical Abuse, Suicide, Depression, BDSM Scenes to include extreme kink, Date Rape

Now that you have a clue to the darkness inside, you may proceed if these triggers don't bother you. Just remember you have been warned and if you can't handle it then put the book down. Don't give it a bad review just because you can't handle it. Now for my review....

This book takes off from the first pages. It develops at a steady pace and tells a dark and twisted tale about the Voss brothers. Asher Voss is the focus of this book. It is a dark tale of his twisted mind and dark ways. He is tall, mysterious and oh so sinful. He is not made to love.

Annabelle is sweet, strong and independent. She has always wanted more that Magnolia Bend has to offer. She has heard stories of Midnight Manor and the mysterious Voss brothers. She was warned to stay away by her father and mother, but when tragedy hits her family she doesn't have a choice.

Overall this book is dark, dangerous and a twisted tale. There are many different backstories going on so be sure to keep up. Each brother is just as mysterious as dear Mr. Asher Voss. These boys are really messed up in the head, but underneath they are so much more. Asher just may have a heart underneath his tough exterior.

I have fell in love with the dark world that these boys live in. It has a Gothic feel to it that makes it so intriguing and enticing. This book is so captivating that it will draw readers in and hold their attention tight. You will become an addict, as this dark romance is 100% perfection.

Impatiently waiting for book two because this one ends with nothing but questions.....

I highly recommend this book for all you smut lovers.

Meet P. Rayne

The darker side of USA Today Bestselling Author, Piper Rayne. 

Connect with P. Rayne 

Website: https://piperrayne.com/p-rayne

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