#with gratitude. and I’m just like INSANELY cool of him I wish that were me

[starksvixen]

Part 3 - Never Lose Me

Masterlist

Summary: You and Mando have begun to grow closer as your time with the Child drew out. No longer were you “just partners”. Something had begun to spring within you, a feeling dead for so long erupting within your heart. Or was it just you?

Warnings: Angst, angst, angst, and more angst. Sprinkles of fluff. Possible unrequited feelings. 

A/N - Sorry for the late update! It’s been a hectic few weeks for me, but I promise to try and upload more. 

Let’s get one thing straight, you were never one for adventure. All your life, adventure meant trouble for you and it had definitely left it’s scars. So when you joined Mando, you were bracing for more craziness, more marks upon your skin. It was nothing but a means to an end, a debt you needed to pay off. However, through your years together, that swiftly changed. 

You began to crave adventure. 

With your new addition of the Child to your crew, you weren’t lacking, that’s for sure. But it sent these horses through your veins, adrenaline left in their trail, and it was your addiction. Running from bounty hunters, keeping the kid safe, all of it. However, after you latest encounter with weird alien birds on the sands of Navarro, it all began to connect.

He had taught you to love it, showed you how to enjoy it. You loved adventure because you weren’t alone, you had a partner. It was all thanks to him. It was him. 

Your ice encrusted heart had been melted by the Mandalorian. 

When he lunged in front of those nasty looking birds to save your life, it was as if your heart leapt to meet your brain. He had risked his life for you. And you knew that the beat in your heart that spelled your love in Morse code would be dangerous. So you quickly shut yourself up, shut him out. You couldn’t be the reason he got hurt, he couldn’t get hurt on behalf of your one-sided puppy love. He was just keeping you alive to pay off your dues. 

Right?

Tuning back into the scene in front of you, the tight cuffs around your wrists, you repeated the plan in your head over and over again like a prayer. You were on your way to a deal that was supposed to be about the Kid, but in reality it was an ambush, with you and Mando in the lead. 

“Dar’manda, wanna explain the silence?” Mando says as quiet as he can so that it can be translated with static. 

“It’s nothing, Mando...” you mumble in return, keeping your eyes averted. 

“Cya-” 

“Don’t.” 

“(Y/N), what did I do?” it comes like a mumble from beneath his mask, too quiet to be picked up by machine. 

‘I fell in love with you.’ you think.

“Nothing, just focus on the mission.” 

With a harsh sigh, you set your jaw tight and aim your view ahead as you walk the barren streets of Navarro. Soon enough, both you and Mando are sitting down, facing the disgusting Imp in front of you that was obviously undressing you with his eyes. 

Little did you know that beneath the helmet, Mando’s jaw clenched. 

With swift yet quiet movements, Greef (who was still petrified of you) had unlocked you from your restraints. As the Imp continues on and on about his annoying propaganda, a leather hand slipped into yours. Your forced to suppress a gasp as he gently squeezes your hand, a silent sign of trust between you two. You cannot feed into the comfortable feeling, right now...

All you see is red. 

Literally. Before you and Mando had a chance to take down your Imperial crowd, a rain of blasters bursts through the windows. All four of you, including Greef and Cara, barely made it down in time to dodge them. Somehow, the two of you made it towards the other edge of the window, a semi clear view of the pack of Stormtroopers surrounding you. 

Grabbing your blaster and blade from Mando’s back, you load them both, getting ready for the fight ahead of you. You go quiet as you hear a ship land. Your blood runs cold at the sound of his voice. 

Moff Gideon.

The Seige of Mandalore flashes before your eyes, making your eyes flood with uncontrollable tears. The start of it all. You smack Mando’s hand away as he obviously saw your weakness. With a quiet sniffle, you cock your gun, listening to the twisted words Gideon spewed. 

But once he stopped, the rushed footsteps and clanking of metal grew your suspicion. 

“They’re setting up an EWEB, aren’t they?” you say to Cara. 

She only nods in response. 

“It’s over.” Karga says from his corner. 

“Yeah, cause that’s really helpful right now!” you spit. 

“I found the sewer vent.” Mando says.

He gently tugs you over to him by your arm, keeping you under cover as you, Cara, and him try to open the vent. You tried your hot blade, nothing. Mando was out of charges. Not even Cara’s blaster worked. 

Of course, Moff Gideon decided to add more stress to the situation with another speech. But when he started listing off the names of your crew, you knew you were screwed. 

“Maybe the traitorous Mandalorian, (Y/N) (L/N), the woman who never had a chance to take the Creed but still broke it, can regail her many tales of murder using the same weapon that killed her people. She seems like a great ally compared to the weak Dar’manda you knew, hmm?” 

All eyes turn to you, your hood still covering your face but at this point you knew it was of no use. Slowly, you take off your hood, revealing the scar starting from the edge of your right eye, leaving a long scar that trailed through a place where there was once hair. 

“Or perhaps the decommissioned Mandalorian, Din Djarin, has heard the songs of the Siege of Mandalore, when gunships of similar ordinance laid waste to fields of Mandalorian recruits in The Night of A Thousand Tears.” 

Din Djarin. 

You look to Din with wide eyes, wondering if the boy that you had hidden in the bunker with all those years ago was still in that metal mask. The one you trained with, laughed with. Your Din...

And now you were going to die together. How poetic. 

The world seemed to spin, everything around you turned to static. As Din retells the tail of how he was rescued, how you two met, your body shivers from the memories buried so deep inside you. Your grip tightens on your blaster, pain, frustration, betrayal. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? Tell me that you recognized me?” you mumble.

“I had to protect you, from everything that I’ve done,” he says as he crouches in front of you. 

“I don’t need your protection...” you swiftly stand up, keeping your space. “I need your trust...” 

“Alright! Can you save the lovers quarrel for when, oh, I don’t know, we survive this!” Cara says quickly. 

You nod, bending down to grab one of the sniper rifles the Stormtrooper had and reloading it fast. Everything around you goes quiet, blocking out your teammates, only focused on the threat at hand. 

Well, until you saw your little green fuzzball in view, strapped to a droid unit’s chest. 

“Cover me!” you yell to Cara, quickly making your way outside and helping the droid keep the baby safe.

More gunshots joined you and as you turn you see the Mandalorian covering your six. You only nod as a sign of gratitude. As you get back to the fight, and Karga decides to join you, a hard grunt from behind you quickly makes you turn around. One of the stormtroopers had flipped Din to the ground, ready to fire. 

Without a second thought, you throw your gun away for a moment and pull your knife out, the exposure to the air sending the cool grey into a heated red. With one arm, you pull the trooper against your chest and with the other, you slowly drag the hot blade against his throat. A slow and painful death. Once his body was on the ground, you picked up your rifle again and continued to shoot at the rest. 

Moff Gideon soon stepped in front of you, his eyes targeted towards your head, most likely imagining your death. You drop your gun, and feign surrender, only to grab your smaller blaster and take a quick shot. Unfortunately you missed, and so did he. But he was still standing, giving him the chance to shoot at a fuel canister, one right in front of Mando. 

“Din!” you screamed, as you watched his metal body flail to the ground. 

Cara and Greef dragged him inside as you slowly but surely made it back towards the building. Once inside, you quickly helped Cara lay him down, rolling him onto his side to check for wounds. 

Your worst fear had happened. The unrequited feelings you had to deal with had injured the one you love most. For the first time in what had felt like forever, you were panicked.

It was obvious he had sustained a pretty nasty head wound. So, naturally, you refused to leave his side while the others tried to escape. Without the others noticing, you moved the fabric of his shirt up above his wrist to keep two fingers on his pulse. With every beat, you were reminded that he was still there.

You kept an eye on your surroundings, with each passing minute your dread filling you up to the brim.

“Cyar’ika,” you hear a pained voice from beside you.

Turning your head, your met with the familiar visor you had grown to love. He was speaking, that was good. 

“I’m not going to make it. You need to go,”

Now you wish he hadn’t. 

“Are you insane? You just smacked yourself, you’ll be fine.” you say with a soft chuckle, moving your hand away from his exposed wrist. 

“Leave me,”

His breathing picked up, he was in pain. Knowing that this was all your fault, that Din laid before you thinking he was going to die, it killed you. Tears sprung into your eyes without notice. 

“No, I’m not leaving you again.”

Gently, you caress where his helmet meets his neck, only to feel the sticky, metallic substance you knew to be blood. Tears fell from your eyes like rain now. 

“Din...” you whisper tearfully. 

“Don’t you dare think about taking this helmet off. You leave me.” he reaches shakily into his shirt, pulling out the mythosaur skull charm and placing it in your hands. “Take this and you make sure the child is safe.”

“Didn’t you hear me? I’m not leaving you,”

Before he could speak again, you waved Cara over, placing the necklace in her palm. 

“You need to take the Child and get him to the Mandalorian covert. When you find them, you tell them it’s from Din Djarin. Got it?”

With a nod, she takes it, and the Child, preparing for their escape.

“Cyare, please...”

You gave him silence to his pleas, opting to hold his hand tightly instead as you watched the scene outside. You saw the fire gun, and you quickly shielded him with your own body, taking most of the burns instead of him.

With your back singed, you let out the tiniest whimper as you sit back up straight.

“(Y/N)-” Cara starts. 

“I can hold him off long enough to let you guys get out of here. I’ll follow behind with Din,”

“And if you don’t make it?”

“We’ll die a warriors death,”

Another blast of fire erupts from the cannon it is held in. You launch yourself over Din once more, bracing for the pain that never comes. Looking over your shoulder, you see the Child, holding back the flames from harming you. With a pained but proud smile, you inch your way over to him before he collapses and give him a hug. 

“Good job, kid,” you whisper. 

One final bang alerts you to the newly made escape route. With a soft kiss to his fuzzy head, you whisper once more:

“You be good, okay? I love you, kiddo.”

The IG unit takes him from you quickly, placing it in Cara’s arms. You crawl back towards Din, gently taking his hand again to try and distract yourself from the pain. Despite the overwhelming sensation of singed flesh, you could feel blood trickling down your back, making you shiver. But you refused to be weak. You refused to let Din die. 

Looking around once more, you see only the IG unit left. He’s a droid...

“Hey, droid!” 

He turns his head to you.

“Got any bacta spray?” 

“As a matter of fact, I do,” 

“Good.” 

Pulling out your blade, you cut off a long strip of Din’s cape, wrapping it tightly around your eyes. 

“What are you doing?” Din weakly asks. 

“I’m taking off your helmet, and the droid will heal you. He’s not living,” you tie the last knot even tighter. “And I can’t see you.”

A weak chuckle reverberates from him.

“You’re still as crazy as the day I met you,”

“Well, love makes you do crazy things,”

Gently, you guide your hands up his chest and to his helmet. You expect his hands to come flying towards your wrists, to stop you. But surprisingly, he doesn’t do so. With a click and a hiss, his helmet comes sliding off, and you lay it in your lap for safe keeping. 

“There is damage to your central processing unit.” the driod says as he does his work.

“You mean my brain?” 

“That was meant to be a joke.”

Din’s soft chuckle puts your mind at ease as you stared into the black space. Once you hear the spray no longer being applied, you blindly reached out and helped Din sit up. Before you get a chance to reach down and put his helmet on again, something unexpected happens. 

His lips were on yours. 

Despite being caged in a helmet all the time, they were soft against yours. The metallic taste of blood danced along your tongue but it was no match to the adrenaline running through your veins at the sensation at your love’s lips against yours. You played an intricate and slow dance, one that you wished you could never get enough of. With a shaking hand, you reached into the uninjured side of his head, running it through the matted curls. The feeling of it all made you smile, the kiss ending way too soon. 

“I love you too,” he whispers. 

With a smile you couldn’t control, you ever so gently place the helmet back onto his head. Taking the blindfold off, you stared into his visor. Brown, you knew that had to be the color of his hair. 

His hand snakes it’s way behind your head, pushing it towards his metal clad one in a Keldabe kiss. With a tearful smile, your hand moves over the metal with ease, mimicking the same gesture. 

“You can only say that if you promise I’ll never lose you again,” you mumble.

“You’ll never lose me, cyar’ika,” 

Tag List: (leave a comment on the Masterlist to be added)

eatleef  auds24  tillytheslytherin  kasianthus  jsuiyun20  leilei-draws and-i-swear-we-are-infinte  haleypearce  mollywertenbe14   tortles  toribentleyva  allisondavis236 rogueheretic555  xionroxas  r-rose08 caswinchester2000  givemetundies  artemisfowl11  imaginecrushes irishfaulk97 mylifequotesshows dionysuskid21  convoluted-creature  grey-water-colors stitchattacks  urbankaite2  weebnumber3622   shestillwrites1  f4llingfairy magicrowiswritingstuff  eddyforthewin   galaxypox  captn-andor imtrebleandsharp  nerdalert-andi  suffocateitfromitsface  lovelylostminds   a-djarin  dawnwriterimagines  kishie8

#mandalorian #the mandalorian #mandalorianxreader #mandalorianimagine #mando #mando x reader #mando x you #mando imagine #din #djarin #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djaren fanfiction #the mandolorian #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian imagine #mandolorian x reader #partners in crime

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Gladly Be a Fool

Fandom: A Discovery of Witches Pairing: Phoebe Taylor/Marcus Whitmore Rating: E Word Count: 2883

Summary: The missing scene after Phoebe and Marcus stumble into his bedroom in episode 4.

“Is this alright?” Marcus asks, despite feeling Phoebe’s calf wind around him like the heavy scroll on an antique gilt frame—the kind of thing they surely have in the vaults at her auction house.

“Completely,” she says against his throat before leaving a lingering kiss. “Does it seem like I think this isn’t alright?”

“Just checking.” He laughs at himself, scoffs with his eyes shut. “It was only that you looked a bit disoriented when we…”

“Flung ourselves onto your bed?”

Phoebe’s bold. He suspected, even with her backtracking after kissing him by the cab, and he enjoys it immensely.

“Yes. Forgive me. Occupational hazard.”

Smiling, he bends his head to her neck. She tilts her head to make space for him. The hum of blood beneath the surface of her skin is more intoxicating than the red wine, less than the creep of her fingers unbuttoning and spreading his shirt. He wishes he were wearing something smarter; blue plaid isn’t his go-to seduction look. However, he didn’t foresee this when he darted to Phoebe’s office earlier. That just toppled into dinner, from dinner into a lovely stroll while they discussed his taste in music to the soundtrack of her laugh, from playful conversation to the kiss that left him longing on the sidewalk, to her surprising call, to, finally, the supreme pleasure of holding her body in place with his and the prospect of imminently warming his cool sheets.

“Are you saying you’re trying to assess my health? In other words, play doctor with me?”

“I don’t think it’s playing doctor when I actually have the qualifications,” he argues between kisses, meandering up to her cheek, then her mouth.

“I suppose I have been acting out of character. Do you think that could be a symptom of anything?”

Phoebe pushes at his shirt and Marcus lifts one hand and then the other, slipping free of the sleeves so she can toss the garment aside. He lifts his head and cocks it.

“I’ll keep you overnight to make sure.”

He doesn’t think he’s offered her anything unusual, and yet she clasps the back of his neck and leads him through a kiss the flavour of gratitude and relief, intense desire welling just beneath. The last thing gets him harder than anything. He presses his groin to her thigh, wanting her, hating his jeans.

Reminding himself that he’s a thinking being, a centuries-old intellect, not just a creature of primal hungers like the one Domenico described, Marcus defers briefly to his brain. The verdict there is that Phoebe’s feeling reassured by his implication that he’d like her to stay the night. She’s inquisitive, attempting to decipher him since they met, holding back even more questions than she asked. Amid all her uncertainties where he’s concerned, his invitation is solid. A promise that predicts the next eight or so hours of her life. He decides he can appreciate that craving for a knowable future. By job and genetics, they’re perhaps both more comfortable with the past.

“I really can’t believe I called you,” Phoebe confesses, working on his belt. “I’m normally not—”

“Liar,” he teases. His hair’s in his eyes as he stares smugly down at her. “A woman who dresses entirely in red is definitely a woman who makes the first move.”

Now to get her out of all that red. Remembering his other guests, Marcus moves swiftly to his feet and closes the bedroom door. He jerks his thumb towards it and mumbles about a friend staying with him as he returns to Phoebe’s waiting arms. His heart doesn’t so much beat as somersault, watching her skate her dress up her legs—presumably, the better to wrap them around him. He feels flushed, imagining forgetting the clothes and just pounding into her.

“Technically,” she pants as his hand skims her inner thigh, fingers trailing along the lace hem of the slip beneath her dress, “the call was the second move.”

“Well, I’ve got to make one of the moves.”

“You really should. Unless it takes you a while to get going. Hamilton six times…”

Grinning, Marcus shakes his head at her and feels for the line of her underwear at her hip. He starts to tug, then wriggles his fingers under the band instead. As he slides his hand down to cup her, he fits his lips back over hers. Phoebe sighs shakily into his mouth as his fingertips glide through her arousal. He applies a gentle touch, tracing her with a surgeon’s finesse.

Before he can ask her which move this qualifies as, she’s opening his fly, her ring scratching against his zipper. The kiss opens up, growing harsher, teeth grabbing lips, her tongue pushing into his mouth then his into hers, until she’s gripping his cock and he’s sunk a finger inside her. He curls, she palms. Between their obscene sounds, he recalls the neat click of her typing as she brought up Lot 42 on her computer. It makes Marcus smile to himself. Then, he dives deeper into the kiss and into her, adding a finger, coaxing a broken moan from Phoebe that vibrates across his tongue.

He raises his head and her hand with it, fingers twined in his hair, because he’s honestly not sure she’s taking in enough oxygen. She might be breathing heavily, but her hand doesn’t quit, fingers encircling him as she pumps faster. Feeling his hips begin to rock as he seeks satisfaction, he realizes he’d better distract her.

“Hope my hands aren’t too cold.”

Phoebe laughs breathlessly and does stop dragging him to the edge for a moment, but then she reaches for his hips with both hands instead, pulling his jeans and underwear down.

“I think I’ve stopped noticing,” she says.

“Am I boring you?”

She rolls her eyes.

“Not like that,” Phoebe tells him. Then, “Yes. Yes, like that,” as he pulses his fingers shallowly and drags her clit in urgent circles beneath his thumb.

“You can have the first move,” he cedes. “I’m claiming credit for the first one of these.”

But he’s got to actually get her to orgasm before that claim’s really worth anything, so he continues what’s making her squirm. With his other arm, he drops from his palm to his elbow, freeing his hand to unbutton her dress from the top. Her chest is warm where he brushes his lips. He exposes more skin, then the lacy neckline of her slip. Being disappointed by too many clothes is a modern man’s insanity—what does it for Marcus are these layers, needing time to strip and reveal, this thick feeling of anticipation drawn out. He watches the dainty gold pendant bob against Phoebe’s throat as her breath hitches. Groaning, he leaves her buttons for now and grabs the hand not in his hair, interlocking their fingers and pressing the back of her hand into the mattress.

“Almost there,” he murmurs to himself, but Phoebe squeezes her eyes shut and nods rapidly in response as the nails of her other hand bite into his naked hip.

Her legs tangle around his and tense when she comes; the leverage pulls him in as her hips jerk up from the bed. He was trying not to grind his erection into the satiny fabric of her skirt, but it’s too late for that now. The contact has him kissing faster over her collarbone and up her neck, sucking where her pulse throbs until Phoebe moans, clamping even tighter around his fingers. Marcus clenches his jaw hard and rests his forehead on her neck, wondering if that was just a spike at the end of her orgasm or whether he compelled her into a second.

When her hand loosens against his, he draws back to look at her in the yellow light coming through his windows from the street.

“Not too cold,” she says, smile slack and easy from the wine and the release.

“Good.”

The word is no louder than the rustle of bedding as he withdraws his hand and braces himself over her again. He stares admiringly down at her. She just makes him feel… like he’s really glad he didn’t pawn the miniatures investigation off on Miriam.

Holding his eyes, Phoebe brings her hands to her chest. Her smile turns sly as she runs her fingers along the open front of her dress until they encounter the next fastened button. She undoes it. Marcus’s gaze leaps from her hands to her face and back. He grins, hanging his head, at her ability to do this to him. She knows too, because she doesn’t speed up. She takes her time all the way to the very last button. When she sits up to shrug out of her dress, he does as well, kneeling between her thighs as she does a little hop to whisk the skirt out from underneath her. She casts the dress aside.

Marcus takes a long breath through his nose, studying Phoebe in her short sheath of white silk. She’s wearing a bra under it—white, ribbed, unlined—but he can see her hardened nipples. While he stares, she unclasps her necklace and lowers it onto the closer of the two nightstands. The chain trickles through her fingers.

“Not the watch?” he asks with a grin when she’s touching him again, hands on his sides, moulded to his ribs.

Phoebe shrugs, barely glancing at her wrist.

“Didn’t think it was really in the way.”

He gives her a considering frown and kicks his legs out from under him, peeling his clothes off. She looks slightly shocked, mouth open in a scandalized smile as she does her best to keep her eyes on his face. Shame.

“Is that all?” he wonders.

“I guess I just like knowing what time it is.” She pauses. Goes on. “So much of the past is identified so indistinctly. Paintings or jewellery by year, some artifacts by decade with our appraisers’ best estimations. The possible timeframe only gets broader the farther back we go. Things travel through time… objects… but we lose details. Maybe it’s silly, but sometimes it amazes me that I can know the time down to the second. I think time is underappreciated.”

“Now that,” Marcus says, leaning in until their lips almost touch, “was a much more interesting answer.”

“Coming from you, I take that as a compliment.”

He’s not positive that was a compliment, but he kisses her anyway. Though he can feel her smile like she might say something else, his hopefully-charming insistence wins her over and her mouth seals to his with more certainty. He groans into it, cupping her cheek to angle her head as he deepens the kiss. He misses her hand wrapped around his cock and yanks expressively at the blanket to either side of her hips. Phoebe shifts back against his headboard, curving her legs out of the way. The second he has the covers whipped down, he catches her behind the knees and pulls her back to him, laughing. Marcus’s smile is broad as he settles between her legs. He traces the neckline of her slip, ignoring where the hem’s scrunched up above her hips, revealing her white underwear, for the moment.

“Did you think about me when you put this on this morning?” he inquires, fingering the lace.

“I didn’t know you’d be coming in. To the office,” she clarifies when he jauntily raises an eyebrow.

“Hmm. That’s not exactly what I asked.”

Marcus kisses her shoulder, heading towards her throat. He slips his hand under her ass to keep her in place as he grinds down with his hips.

“I take care in my appearance,” is all Phoebe seems willing to concede.

“And that appearance is very lovely.” He can feel her arousal through her underwear and rubs against her more precisely, dying to bury himself in her. “So very lovely,” he pants against her skin.

“You’re being very charming for someone who’s already got me half naked.”

“Oh, I never turn it off.” He flashes an enticing grin.

He can feel, and hear, her heartbeat, then his cock twitches eagerly and they’re in another scramble—the first was to make it to his bed, this is to get her out of her underwear and him inside her. She takes care of the former as he stretches to fish a condom from the drawer of the nightstand. If she asked, he would say truthfully that he was thinking about her this morning. The way he pleased and flustered her when they met by suggesting she should be the one in charge of the auction house was in his mind when he ventured to the shop, guiding his hand as he tossed the box of condoms into his basket alongside the coffee creamer and eggs he was bringing back to Sophie and Nate for breakfast. The thrill for the rest of them might have been the discovery of Matthew and Diana’s miniatures; the thrill for Marcus was doing everything he could to provoke a smile out of Phoebe Taylor.

Pressing inside her, he inches the white slip up her stomach with every gasp. Her fingers grip the back of his neck, her eyelids lowered, her parted lips bumping his as they share air. Marcus thrusts shallowly once he’s all the way in and Phoebe shifts her hips, widens her legs; they adapt to each other.

His hands caress her skin more insatiably the more of it he bares. He can feel the goosebumps under his fingertips, unable to count them because she’s rocking her hips with his, driving him deeper. Phoebe intervenes with the slip, stripping it off over her head, then her hands slap to his back and they kiss hard as he bucks into her. Marcus absorbs her high whimpers, refusing to break the kiss. Fuck, she’s incredibly slick around him and he badly wants this to be as good for her as it is for him. He hooks his arm beneath her thigh and folds it up. The moan that leaves Phoebe is almost enough to stand even his heavy, floppy hair on end.

He dips his head, tugging at her nipple through her thin bra. He can feel her wristwatch against the back of his neck as her fingers comb into his hair. Not everything’s been removed; so many pieces of her. She thinks he’s evasive and mysterious, but he’s sure he doesn’t know the half of it with her, and that excites him. Phoebe in his bed excites him. He lets her pull him back into a messy kiss and allows his eyelids to flutter open ever-so-slightly, stealing glimpses of her. This room is full of mirrors, but most are hung just a little too high on purpose because it isn’t really his reflection Marcus wants. He doesn’t need his own face looking back at him, he doesn’t need two nightstands for all his shit.

Breathing harshly through his nose, he catches the wine they drank downstairs, her gin at dinner. There’s the scent of night air and the faint hint of the perfume she must have put on this morning. He smelled it at her office earlier, but at the time it seemed a little too—as Phoebe defined their first kiss—forward to ask if that was for his benefit, like the later uncovered silk slip. She’s as irresistible when experienced through this sense as any other.

“F-faster,” she directs, bowing her body against his, and he is happy to oblige. He loves her sweat. He’d be perspiring himself, if he weren’t what he is.

The present rides him as he moves quickly in and out of her. This is fast, him and her, for something he thinks is more than a hookup. Two days to get them from his cold hands to her heat under and around him. One dinner, one walk, one call, a multitude of kisses. He is so, so into her.

His hand finds and grasps her hip, heaving her up to stroke inside her differently while pinning her thigh to her stomach. She cries out and he knows he’s got her.

“Good god, Phoebe,” Marcus breathes into her ear.

She shudders and shakes, clenching around his cock. He switches to long strokes as she climaxes, powering through them, trying to last if only to extend the present, here to play time’s own game. All of his seconds are Phoebe sighing and catching her breath and being so vibrantly human beneath him. He finally finishes with one of her hands kneading his shoulder, the other on his cheek. The orgasm ripples through him, muscles taut as his hips snap to hers and push until he’s empty.

He almost doesn’t want to pull away, but he’s being stupid. He swaggers unhurriedly over to the bin to chuck the condom, smirking back at Phoebe, who he’s caught watching his ass, as he thought she would be. She rolls her eyes with a certain fondness while she takes the liberty of rearranging the pillows that are propping her up.

“You know what would be great right now?” Marcus asks as he rejoins her.

“What’s that?”

He waits until she’s looking at him dead on before he grins.

“A little Duran Duran.”

#my writing #A Discovery of Witches #ADoW #Phoebe Taylor #Marcus Whitmore #Marcus x Phoebe

[artificialqueens]

Tree House Kisses, Chapter 46/46 (Adorney) - Scorpio and Veronica

A/N: Well, here we are. After 46 chapters and over 4.5 years, we’ve finally come to the end of the road. Of course, this last chapter is dedicated to the wonderful, brilliant, amazing @artificialscorpio, who was the original author of this fic and who generously allowed me to first come onboard as a co-author, and then take over when they decided to take a break. I love you so much honey!!!

And of course, we’ve had some fantastic beta readers, especially the ones who helped with these last batch of chapters: @saiphl, @sillylittlecandycane and @tumble4rpdr. Thank you so so much to you guys, you’re the best!

Lastly, if you have ever liked, commented on, or interacted with this story in any way…I love you.

-Veronica

If you’re interested in the rest of this fic, you can click here for previous chapters or here if you’d rather read on AO3. xoxo!

Chapter Summary: Graduation! But what does the future hold…?

Chapter 46: Kaleidoscope

Courtney was very rapidly losing her grip on reality, hands buried in Adore’s hair, back arched, biting down on her lip so hard she tasted blood. The absolute gentleness of Adore’s mouth was making her insane. Even the way she held her thighs down, thumbs lightly stroking her skin, was soft and warm.

The best part, though, was that it was her. Her best friend. The deepest, truest love she’d ever felt, finally being expressed.

Adore.

No one in the history of the world had ever had a more fitting name, Courtney thought, as her fingers tangled deeper into Adore’s hair. And then, like slipping under the cool water on a hot day, her world went blurry, sounds distorted and amplified.

“Adore…” It was a plea. A chant. Her only remaining connection to the physical world, the last thread she held onto before finally letting go, eyes falling closed and body melting down into the wooden floor beneath her.

Her eyes fluttered as she gasped for oxygen. Adore had rolled off of her, was holding one of her hands.

“Courtney?” she asked, edging closer, breath warm on Courtney’s cheek.

Courtney turned towards her, eyes liquid. “Hmm?”

“Are you okay?” she asked. There was a hint of a smile in her voice, an amused sparkle in her eyes.

“Uh huh,” Courtney managed. She took Adore’s face in her hands, kissing her tenderly and then murmuring against her lips. “That was perfect, so perfect…”

“Yeah?” Adore asked, wrapping her into an embrace.

“Mmmh…” Courtney snuggled against her, eyes closed. She was fairly certain that she’d never felt better in her life, and she hugged Adore tightly. Maybe too tight, from the way she shifted.

“Sorry,” Courtney whispered, loosening her grip as much as she could bear.

“For what, baby?”

“For-” Courtney’s breath hitched.

She buried her face in Adore’s chest, unable to express the emotions that currently enveloped her. Adore rested a cheek against her head, stroking her bare back. Courtney couldn’t explain why for the life of her, but suddenly, there was a lump in her throat and tears in her eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut.

“Don’t let go.”

Adore had always been her best friend, the person she loved most in the world, but now, as perfect and wonderful as everything was, the thought of losing her was about a hundred times scarier. And even though Courtney finally knew that Adore felt the same way she did, part of her was still scared that the intensity of her feelings would scare her off.

“Don’t worry, I got you,” Adore murmured back softly. “I love you.”

It was the gentleness in her voice that finally allowed Courtney to let it all out. A tear began to make its way down Courtney’s cheek, and then another, and another, until she was full on sobbing, with no idea exactly why. It was like the combination of her earlier anxiety and fear and sadness and anger had catalyzed with the ecstatic joy and gratitude she was feeling now to create an unstoppable river of emotion, clinging to Adore like she was a life preserver.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m-”

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” Adore sniffled, and it was only then that Courtney realized that she was crying too.

What a perfect mess they both were, she thought, and started laughing through her tears, Adore joining in as she rocked her slowly, both of them crying until they were wrung out and exhausted, too tired to move. The last thing Courtney remembered before drifting off was Adore kissing the top of her head and pulling her impossibly close.

-

Adore slept peacefully, maybe better than she had in years, until she was woken by the sweet caress of Courtney’s fingers as she laced and unlaced them with her own, the early morning fog making everything cool and slightly damp, causing them both to burrow deeper into the sleeping bag.

A sleepy smile spread across her face, arm tightening around Courtney’s body, whispering, “Hey there…”

“G’morning,” Courtney murmured back, snuggling against her.

“How are you feeling?”

“Honestly? It’s all a bit hard to believe,” Courtney admitted. “I keep thinking I’m gonna wake up and it’ll all have been a dream.”

“Yeah.” Adore knew exactly what she meant. Things this good just didn’t happen--not to her. She tightened her grip on Courtney’s hand, squeezing her fingers, trying to reassure both of them that it was actually real.

“I do have a question for you, though.”

“Hit me.”

“Do you still think that we shouldn’t live together?” Courtney asked. Her tone was light and playful, but her eyes lowered slightly, and Adore could see that she was actually a bit unsure.

She smiled, shaking her head, pulling her in tight. “No, uh...I think that concern has like...resolved itself.”

“So then...the plan’s back on?” Courtney asked, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

A week ago, Adore wanted to stab her own eyes out every time she thought about them as roommates. But now, she couldn’t think of anything more exciting.

“Plan’s back on. And hey, now we can save even more money by getting a one bedroom,” she said, adding quickly, “If you think that’s something you’d want.”

“Definitely!” Courtney giggled, laying her head back down on Adore’s shoulder.

They sighed, content to just be together, to enjoy the stillness of the dawn and their hearts beating in sync.

They must have drifted off again, because the next thing Adore knew, the sun was high in the sky and Bonnie was rapping on the wooden ladder, calling up to her to get her lazy ass up and come have some breakfast.

She rubbed her eyes, sitting up. “Uh, coming Ma! I’ll be down in a minute!”

“I guess I better go get ready too,” Courtney said softly, gazing up at her.

Adore looked over at her, struck once again by how absolutely beautiful she was. She nodded and leaned over to brush a kiss against her lips.

The rest of the morning was pure chaos. Adore’s aunts had cooked a big breakfast, which of course took ages longer to eat than it should have. Then there was the logistical nightmare of bathroom time. By the time she arrived for the ceremony, she was late, her classmates already lined up in alphabetical order and beginning to walk towards their seats.

She searched the line for Fame and Violet, racing towards them to find her own spot, nerves making her stomach twist itself into knots, the disgusting polyester of her graduation gown making her sweat.

She’d really been hoping to see Courtney before the ceremony began--after all, it was one thing to confess their feelings to each other in private, but how would she act in front of all their friends and classmates, with their families watching from the bleachers? She couldn’t even text her, because they’d been told in no uncertain terms that any phones out would be immediately confiscated. Apparently some people treated high school graduations like some kind of religious ritual.

She barely listened to the speeches. It was clear from the crowd’s laughter that Bob was killing it, and good for him, but she didn’t have the brainpower to keep up with that. Fame kept reaching over both Violet and Valerie Delacruz to stop her nervous hands from tearing apart the orchid she was supposed to hold, but it was no use. By the end of Principal Greene’s speech, it was a pile of scraps in her lap. She brushed the pieces into the grass, sighing, wishing it was over.

Finally, it was time to file across the stage, and Adore knew that it should have been an exciting moment for her, but all she could feel as her family cheered their hearts out was numb apprehension, preparing herself for the worst. She tried to seek out Courtney’s face in the crowd as she stepped off the stage, but unfortunately, she was sitting behind Brent Isaacson, an absolute tank of a football player, and thus completely invisible.

Adore groaned inwardly, knowing that this might be the hardest part of the whole day...sitting back in her seat listening to the names of all the rest of her graduating class as they filed across one by one. With no more orchid to play with, she instead gripped the sides of her folder chair and squeezed her eyes shut.

“Hey…” Fame leaned over (ignoring Violet’s irritated scoff) and whispered, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Adore didn’t bother elaborating, so Fame gave her a pat on the thigh and straightened back up.

She did perk up when they started calling the J names, scanning through the line for Courtney, who looked tan and beautiful in deep scarlet lipstick, hair curled and spilling over her shoulders. Adore sat up as straight as she could, and when their eyes finally met, Courtney’s face broke out into a smile, giving Adore a secret little wave before turning to pay attention to the people directing them across the stage.

It should have made Adore feel better, but instead, it just made her anxiety skyrocket. She clapped for Courtney and then slumped back in her seat, passing the time by trying to think of lyrics to a song she was writing.

And then, at long last, it was over, everyone jumping up, some people throwing their stupid hats (even though they’d been told not to), a frenzy of activity as people hugged and cried and families swarmed down from the bleachers and onto the field with the graduates.

Adore looked around, but in the madness, couldn’t spot her anywhere.

“Can you believe we did it?” Willam was asking, as his arm slung around Violet’s shoulder, as Trinity and Fame squealed and hugged.

Adore’s throat felt a little dry, still scanning the crowd, when she felt someone throwing their arms around her from behind, practically knocking her over.

She laughed, first taking a moment to enjoy Courtney’s arms around her, sighing with relief before turning around and facing her.

“Hi. Congratulations,” she said softly.

“Same,” Courtney whispered back, gazing up into her eyes, hands still on her shoulders.

Adore swallowed, still unsure what to expect, but figured that at least, a hug was safe. She slipped her arms around Courtney’s waist, prepared to pull her in for a hug. But Courtney had other plans, taking Adore by the cheeks and kissing her right on the mouth.

Not just any kiss, but deep and slow, causing all the noise and the mayhem around them to fade away as Adore relished in the feel of her lips, warm and soft. In that moment, all of her panicking seemed insane--because of coursethis was how Courtney would break the news to their friends and family. Of course she wouldn’t care about gossip and prying eyes and snide comments. With that kiss, she was showing Adore yet again that she was number one, that nothing could stop them any longer.

That, as cliché and trite as it was in Principal Greene’s speech, today really was the first day of the rest of their lives.

A giddy laugh slipped from Adore’s lips as they parted, still too wrapped up in each other to pay attention to their friends gaping at them. Adore held Courtney close, giggling softly as she rested a forehead against hers.

“You know people are watching us,” Adore whispered.

“So?” Courtney whispered back, standing up on her tiptoes to press one more kiss to Adore’s lips.

“I told you she was bi!” Fame cried triumphantly, finally causing them to break their eye contact and look over at their friends. “Belli, you owe me five bucks!”

“Excuse me, you placed bets on us?” Adore asked, a hand on her hip. Beside her, Courtney seemed to find it all utterly amusing. “Does that mean you actually discussed this?”

“Yeah, bro,” Pearl said, patting her shoulder. She and Tatianna had apparently made their way over to the group while Adore was distracted by Courtney’s very friendly greeting. “Like...all the time.”

“Well…” Adore glanced over at Courtney, who was leaning a head on her shoulder, grinning from ear to ear, and realized that she couldn’t even pretend to be annoyed.

-

Every time Courtney so much as glanced at Adore, she felt like she was on top of the world. Of course, it was great to be at a graduation party with her family and friends, surrounded by so many people who cared about them both. But she would be lying if she said that anyone there made her feel half as excited as Adore’s hand in hers.

To anyone watching, she probably looked like a clingy mess, barely letting go of Adore’s hand, leaning against her shoulder, putting an arm around her waist, kissing her at every opportunity.

When she broke away for a few minutes to pose for family photos, Courtney felt a little ridiculous for missing her so much. She stood with some of her own family, making small talk about her summer plans, glancing over at Adore longingly every three seconds, waiting for her to come back.

Willam chose that moment to approach her, slinging an arm around her waist and asking, “What the fuck, cheerleader? I tell you my dick sucking secrets and now you're going to the dark side? Hope you have fun eating pussy.”

“Hi, Willam.” Courtney smiled sweetly at him, then said, “This is my grandmother, Muriel. Grandma, this is my friend Willam.”

Willam’s eyes widened and he backed away slowly, Muriel just shaking her head and muttering about kids these days and their filthy mouths. Courtney laughed to herself, eyes lighting up when she saw that Adore was finally heading back in her direction throwing her arms around her as if she’d been away at war for years.

“Hi,” Adore said, laughing as Courtney hugged her. “Missed me, huh?”

“Yes,” Courtney said, nuzzling into her neck.

Muriel cleared her throat, and Adore whispered, “Grandma’s not amused.”

“Yeah, what else is new?” Courtney whispered back, and they both giggled.

-

“Hey, there you are…” Pearl said, walking over to where Violet was sitting on Adore’s front steps, away from the party. She’d been searching for a place to smoke a cigarette, and when she spotted her, realized that she’d been absent for ages. “What’s up?”

“Nothing…”

“Oh yeah?” Pearl lit up, then slid into the step below her, looking up at her sullen face. “Seems like something.”

“Pearl, just…”

“What?”

“Go away,” Violet grumbled.

“Seriously, what’s wrong? Today’s supposed to be a happy day. No more high school!” Pearl pumped her fist in the air, lowering it slowly when she saw how unamused Violet was.

“Yeah, it’s great. I’m great. And it’s totally awesome that Adore’s tragic unrequited love for her best friend ended perfectly, while mine ended in disaster.” Violet kicked a stone off the step.

“You know-” Pearl began, but Violet cut her off.

“I don’t want to hear it, Pearl! I’m allowed to be fucking mad that she got everything she wanted and I got nothing! So don’t tell me that I should be celebrating, because I don’t fucking feel like it!”

Pearl held up her hands. “Actually, I was gonna say that I get it.”

Violet paused, eyes narrowing, still slightly out of breath from her rant, and asked, “You were?”

“Yeah. I mean, if life was fair, you’d have been rewarded for being brave enough to tell Fame how you felt all along.”

“Hmmph.”

“But also...you know, they just hooked up last night. It could still end in disaster.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Violet demanded, eyes narrowed even more.

“I dunno...did it?”

“No.”

“Then no.”

Violet groaned, leaning back on her elbows. “This fucking sucks.”

“Yeah.” Pearl took one last drag of her cigarette before dropping it on the bricks, putting it out with the toe of her boot. “But, you know, you could look on the bright side.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the bright side, Polly-fucking-anna?”

“Now that you know for sure that nothing will happen with Fame, it frees you up to explore other...romantic opportunities.”

Violet snorted. “Oh yeah, like who? You?”

“You could do worse, you know.”

Violet stared at her for a few seconds, and Pearl thought there was a chance that she’d shove her off the steps, or laugh, or get even more annoyed than she already was. Instead, she shrugged.

“Alright.”

“Yeah? Really?”

“One date won’t kill me, right?”

Pearl grinned at her, shaking her head. “You won’t regret it.”

“I already do,” Violet retorted, with an exaggerated eye roll, only the light in her eyes and the slight quirk of her lips betraying her perfectly ironic tone.

-

“Augh, you bitch!” Adore shrieked, and Courtney laughed, fluttering her lashes innocently, pretending like she’d only gotten the frosting on Adore’s cheek by accident while giving her a bite of her red velvet cupcake.

“Oops, sorry,” Courtney said, licking the frosting off her own fingers as Adore tackled her onto the picnic blanket, both of them laughing happily.

“You guys are so cute,” Fame declared.

“Yeah, it’s disgusting,” Trinity added drily, and Tatianna laughed.

Courtney gazed up at Adore, about to go in for another kiss, when she stopped cold, Adore’s face stricken with guilt, pushing her off. Courtney turned in the direction where she was looking, and felt a lump in her throat.

Roy.

In Courtney’s ecstatic joy, she’d nearly forgotten about how awful their break-up had been--a mere two days earlier--but suddenly it all came rushing back, her pulse racing and stomach clenching.

“Shit,” she whispered softly, biting her lip.

She was frankly a bit surprised to see him here. From the look on his face when he’d stormed away, she’d expected for him to keep his distance for a long, long time.

“Are you gonna go talk to him?” Adore asked.

“Um…” Courtney knew she should, but she couldn’t will her limbs to move at the moment.

“You should talk to him,” Adore said firmly, taking the plate out of her hands. “I’ll save your cupcake.”

“Thanks, that was my number one concern right now,” Courtney said drily, and Adore chuckled.

“Stop stalling. Go ahead.”

Courtney heaved a sigh and stood up, brushing some crumbs off her skirt and walking slowly to the edge of the yard where Roy stood. The guilt made her stomach twist into knots, wondering what he would say, whether he was still so angry at her. She kept her eyes down, unable to look directly into his face, for fear of seeing that hatred on his face where once it had been nothing but love.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” he replied, seeming about as uncomfortable as she felt, shifting from one foot to the other. “Uh...congrats.”

“Thanks.”

There was a long pause, things more awkward between them than they’d ever been, before both of them began to speak at once.

“How are you-”

“Have you decided-”

They stopped, at the same time, Courtney daring to look up into his brown eyes for the first time, adding a sincere, “I’m sorry.”

Roy nodded, kicked at the edge of the grass.

“I really am,” she said. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

Courtney bit her lip, offering a gentle, “You’re gonna find someone better than me, you know.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about that,” Roy replied, a wry smile on his face that finally gave Courtney some hope.

“Um...do you want something to eat?”

“No thanks. I just came by to say congratulations and…” he sighed, letting out a sad little chuckle. “Actually, I’m not totally sure why I came. A glutton for punishment, I guess.”

“Okay.” Courtney swallowed, the lump growing in her throat. “I’m really-”

“I’ll see you around, Court.” He turned to leave.

“Wait!” Courtney sniffled, eyes misty, as he turned back towards her. She stepped forward, knowing she needed to say something but at a complete loss for what. This was the person who’d been there for her through thick and thin for years. It just didn’t seem right to let him go without telling him how much she was going to miss him. But saying that, or even telling him the truth--that she would always, always love him--it suddenly seemed selfish. She didn’t have a right to unburden herself to him, not anymore. She would have to carry this particular burden alone.

“Yeah?”

“I just...do you think…” Courtney chewed on her lip, trying to stop the tears threatening to leak from her eyes. “Do you think we’ll ever be friends again?”

Roy was silent for a moment, and Courtney immediately regretted what she’d said. It seemed insane to think that after everything she put him through, she was even entitled to his friendship.

“I’m sorry, I just-” she stopped, voice breaking, realizing that there was probably nothing she could say to make things better.

“No, I get it,” he said, once again showing her kindness that she didn’t deserve. “I just...I don’t know. Maybe.”

She nodded hopefully, grateful for the ‘maybe,’ knowing that it was really the most she could ask for at the moment.

“Well, um…” Roy cleared his throat. “Have a good summer.”

“Yeah, you too.”

She stood there for awhile, watching him go, waiting until he got into his car and drove down the block before turning and heading back to Adore and the others, collapsing onto the picnic blanket with a groan.

“Was it awful?” Adore asked, letting Courtney settle with a head in her lap.

“Mmhmm.” Courtney pressed her cheek against Adore’s thigh, eyes closed, trying to think of all the things that she had to be grateful for at the moment. The scent of fresh-cut grass. The warm summer day. Adore’s hands in her hair, fingers running through the strands without Courtney even having to ask.

She knew she’d feel guilty about Roy for a long time--maybe forever. But as she opened her eyes and saw Adore gazing down at her, the bleached parts of her faded lavender hair lit up by the dappled sunlight filtering in through the trees above, she also knew that she’d done the right thing for all of them, as hard as it was.

Adore seemed to read her mind, a smile pulling on her full lips as she bent down to brush a kiss against Courtney’s forehead.

-

Adore strummed lightly on her guitar, softly picking out a melody as she watched Courtney pour over a huge selection of guidebooks and maps, armed with multicolored highlighters and post-its. The evening sun slanted in through the window, giving her a golden, ethereal glow that contrasted sharply with her mundane task of selecting attractions and routes for their road trip next week. Adore was certain that no one in history had ever looked so beautiful sticking post-its in a guide book or unfolding a map.

If it was up to Adore, she’d just start driving and wing it, but Courtney was taking the planning part very seriously, considering every road and making sure every detail would be perfect. She’d even scheduled in time for “spontaneous fun” so that they could have some days of just fucking around the way Adore wanted. The careful consideration was a sign of how much it mattered to her, and besides that, Adore found her serious planning face far too cute to waste her breath arguing.

“Look, if we take the pink route down,” Courtney said, tracing it along the map with her finger, “Then we can hit up the El Chorro Hot Springs on the way to Cabo.”

“Sounds great,” Adore said.

“And then we can do the blue route on the way back, see? We’ll go through La Paz both ways, so we can either do it before or after. Maybe after is better, so we know how much time we can stay?” She tapped a highlighter against her chin, considering the options.

“Awesome.” A lazy grin spread across Adore’s face as Courtney looked up, head tilted.

“Are you even listening?” she asked, brow arched, a look of amusement tinged with mild exasperation flashing across her face.

“Sort of,” Adore admitted. “But I trust you. There’s really only one thing I care about on this trip, anyway.”

“Zip-lining in Las Cañadas?” Courtney asked, holding up a pamphlet.

“No.”

Adore set down her guitar, then reached out and grasped Courtney by the wrist, pulling her over into her lap. Courtney giggled, delighted, nuzzling her nose and then kissing her gently.

“Playa del Amor?” Courtney then guessed, eyes shining.

“No,” Adore said again, shaking her head. She trailed her lips along Courtney’s jaw to her pulse point, where her teeth gently nipped at the sensitive flesh before licking her softly, making Courtney shiver.

“The rock paintings in Sierra de San Fran-” she stopped talking with a short gasp as Adore began to suck, her fingers tightening in her hair.

“Give up?” Adore whispered, feeling her nod, the pride of making her melt so quickly making Adore’s heart race. She lifted her head, looking straight into Courtney’s now glazed-over eyes to firmly say, “I don’t really care where we go, or what we do. I just care about being with you. Without having to pretend that I don’t...fucking love every inch of you.”

Adore had no doubt that it would be a great trip. How could it not be? The two of them frolicking on beaches, splashing in the warm water while ocean breezes whipped their hair around. She could already taste the salty kisses and feel the sand between their toes. She could imagine getting naughty while rubbing sunscreen on each other’s backs, and sharing dripping ice cream cones.

She didn’t even care that Courtney was going to make her hike on dusty trails and visit coldly air-conditioned museums. Those awful hikes would only make it more satisfying to curl up together at the end of the night. And in the museums, they could hold hands, fingers laced together, the cool air giving them an excuse to stand closer together.

All of it would be perfect, no matter what roads they drove along or what beachside motels they stopped in for the night. Because they’d be together, finally together, making Adore’s wildest dreams come true.

She continued to gaze at Courtney in the golden light, getting a look of pure love, of singular devotion, in return. It was a look that was both new and deeply familiar, a look that Adore had seen before so many times, but never truly understood until they’d confessed their most vulnerable feelings out loud.

How could she ever, ever have doubted their unbreakable bond? At that moment, she had no idea.

Courtney tilted her chin up, leaning in to press her lips to Adore’s once more, the kiss slow and perfect, a lovely taste of the unhurried summer days ahead.

They finally separated, gazing at each other with mirrored love-stuck expressions, eyes locked--until Courtney caught a glimpse of something over Adore’s shoulder, smile growing even more.

“What?” Adore turned her head, trying to see what captured her attention.

“Our names,” Courtney told her, pointing.

Adore chuckled slightly at the sight, the names they’d carved so many years ago with Bonnie’s screwdriver. The letters were crooked and wonky, scratched into the wood by what were clearly amateurish hands.

Courtney shifted, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a house key. She crawled over to the wall and began scratching something new, next to the original names.

“What are you doing?”

“You’ll see,” she sang, now hard at work.

When the letters started to form in the soft wood, Adore laughed again.

“How come your writing looks just as bad as when you were 8?”

“I never claimed to be an artist,” Courtney said, and Adore slipped her arms around her from behind, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder, eyes closed as she breathed in the scent of her, of summer personified. When Courtney was finished, she moved aside to give Adore a better look.

Inside a crude carving of a heart (or at least, what was meant to be a heart) was the message:

AD + CJ 2007

“Do you like it?” Courtney asked, blowing a few strands of hair out of her eyes.

“It’s beautiful,” Adore proclaimed. And it was--imperfect, messy letters that Adore wouldn’t trade for anything, because it was them. She knew, looking at it, that she’d always treasure it, this permanent reminder of their love and hope and boundless joy.

“You’re beautiful,” Courtney countered with a soft kiss to her cheek.

Adore smiled at her.

Again.

Her face hurt from all the smiling.

Courtney rested her forearms on Adore’s shoulders, a matching smile spread across her face, before asking, “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking...that our lives are gonna be awesome.”

“Obviously,” Courtney giggled, leaning forward to kiss her again.

Adore sighed happily into the kiss, then pulled back to look into her eyes, seeing the rosy, golden light of the sunset reflected back at her. More than that, she saw all the sunsets they were going to share together: this summer, this year, and beyond.

She’d never considered herself an optimist, not even close. But today, tonight, all she could see was a life of endless bliss stretched out before her.

The best part, though, was that it was already happening. Their beautiful life of love and joy and excitement had begun; she didn’t have to wait another second for it to start.

*

A/N 2: That’s all…for now. A sequel may be in the works. 👀 XOXOXOXO

#rpdr fanfiction #tree house kisses #scorpio #veronica #adorney #adore delano #courtney act #pearl liaison #violet chachki #bianca del rio #willam belli #trinity k bonet #miss fame #tatianna #bitney #pearlet #lesbian au #high school au #angst #fluff #angst with a happy ending #implied smut

[common-blackbird]

Started!

This is my Inquisitor (so overjoyed you can be a qunari), her name is the default Herah and I decided I’m going to approach this game by staying true to a character and not looking to do everything and be on everyone’s good side u_u

I want to make a good background for her so i’m not telling anything. Yet. I’ll just say she’s a qunari mercenary and prefers using two-handed weapons.

Highlights from today:

Studying history does pay off! This was a reference to the famous book in environmental history - Guns, Germs and Steel by Jared Diamond. So proud i recognised it x)

Also i don’t have a good shot of solas but he cracks me up so much.. The guy has a posture of the typical retired grandpa (the only thing missing is to have him walk with his hands on his back). And there’s a scene where the party sees the rift and there’s the inquisitor facing it, cassandra bracing herself and solas... just standing like an old man

On a side note, Cassandra is so gorgeous and good and i already love her, i just keep taking shots of her TAT

As for varric, it’s so different than from da2, this is so much more “official” and you can see he’s the same as ever, but you’re not hawke, hawke’s not here, the gang’s not here and there’s nothing casual about the whole situation T-T

And lastly, my inquisitor has a horse now, i didn’t know that was possible in the game ;__;

played some more...

Let  me start with.... The advisors! (+ cassandra... or is she also an advisor too?)

What a bunch. I love Cassandra’s and Leliana’s faith having a crisis bc they believe that Inquisitor is the Herald of Andraste and the way they deal with it. It’s really interesting. Leliana is completely opposite than what she was in origins and i’m surprised it doesn’t bother me at all! I love seeing this whole darker side that was only hinted at in origins, though it’s also sad when i think how she used to be. I wonder how she’s gonna overcome her doubting of faith. 

Josephine is a delight. I keep using her for almost every war table mission for now. She radiates capability. She reminds me of those bureaucrats that are super nice and helpful and chill and even if you’re doing everything wrong she’ll just smile and say “it’s ok, we can fix it” and then goes and fixes everything herself (and you feel this insane amount of gratitude you send a whole separate email to thank her for her patience and help )

As for Cullen... It’s interesting... I got impression from what i saw in the fandom that he’s supposed to have had his allegiance changed and him rejecting the templars should have been him ultimately siding with the mages (or at least being anti-templar(?)), and that turning point that could have been a great way to show his character development during the game. Which i agree, only... i did not get that impression from the game so far at all. I mean, so far everything that i can remember him saying is totally smth he’d say in da2... He didn’t leave kirkwall bc of his disappointment with the templar order, he doesn’t seem to have any issues with the templars except those who go full war mode instead of trying to balance the situation. And it’s a really chaotic situtation, i love how they did it.

This line was amazing, i wish there was a special cutscene for that.

I’m loving the way they made this huge religious organisation in crisis have a complete collapse with the death of a key figure. I love the concept of inquisition and problems that it poses. I love you can see everyone’s reasoning and doubts reflect their background, but also see why inquisition can be understood as another power-grasping organisation trying to topple the templars, the mages and the chantry. Everything is divided. We got templars leaving the chantry, seekers leaving the chantry(?), rebel mages, loyal mages, rebel mages gone rouge, templars gone rouge, and suddenly there’s another organisation forming that you can totally believe is just another powerhungry force trying to get the piece of the cake by taking advantage of the power vacuum left by the sudden lack of the religious authority. (and only we know we’re The Good Guys). I love that we have characters who need to believe in the greater plan, characters who question the greater plan, and characters who want to utilise the power of belief and characters who don’t care for divine plans. The chaos is real and it feels real. I love that the centre figure of the whole holy business is a heretic of another culture. For the chantry this is the lose-lose situation (unless the inquisitor becomes religious by the end of the game). Which is why this line works so well. 

Ok, now shorter updates:

Red Jenny! I know it’s not her actual name but it is in my head. Where’s that box i delivered ages ago >_> Anyways, she makes my brain work on 150% capacity. I can understand what she means only after i go over it for 5 times.

Forgive me but oh my god, i can’t believe that i can recognise one voice actor and now i have another mental image whenever he speaks. Like, he’s really good at bringing out a new character, but when he gets more casual he sounds like kanan jarrus from star wars rebels and i’m just “what are you doing here, space dad” ;__; Hopefully it’ll get old and i’ll be enjoying more iron bull. he seems nice...

Vivienne on the other hand is like a reverse Josephine(?) She seems insanely capable but hates customer service, however somehow she likes you very much and will do everything you need for reasons you can’t fathom. Have a screenshot. So classy. I already feel humbled.

and lastly, BREAKING NEWS: aveline finally hired carver ;__;

Tbh Kirkwall is still a mystery and i have so many questions but i don’t think i’ll get any answers... If a powervacuum of the divine cause this much chaos, how’s kirkwall faring without a new viscount? Like, yeah, aveline can keep in check, but umm it’s in a very vulnerable state which makes it a good target for any invasion... didn’t sebastian promise bloodshed?

That’s all for now, bc otherwise i’ll start writing an essay on cassandra.

We befriended a bear in the hinterlands!

lets start with this cool shot

so, i have been to the mages and to the templars and... i sided with the templars.... First i was all for mages since they offered negotiations while the seeker just walked away, but then it turned out that was a trap, there’s also tevinter mages there (which is a red flag for my inquisitor) and then there’s some time magic involved (which is a big no for me), and i just walked out. Felt bad for the mages but my inquisitor comes from a culture where mages have their tongues cut so...

Also this guy deserves a medal for putting up with corrupted superiors and annoying nobles.

And i met cole ;__; Where are Rhys and Evangeline ;___;

the templar mission was ok i guess... I was surprised that red lyrium was apparently circulating around for some time, not sure if that means since meredith or even before. I love the stories of corruption tho and to imagine what it’s like to be trapped in this organisation that just keeps breaking everything it stands for

As for the important mages, i’ve Dorian twice since i bailed out on him in Redcliffe :I I love the guy, he seems arrogant yet so kind (like, no one would have carried that annoying priest and yet he did, after he ran from his own people to warn us after i ditched him in Redcliffe? man ;A;) Every time i go with “ok the inquisitor fears tevinter and distrusts this rando who just popped in” i am marinating in guilt.

and then we fight some mages and die several times but we succeed and we meet the bad guy...

Is it an unpopular opinion to say that i like him as a villain so far? i saw so many jokes on his incompetency. Idk, i like that part where he said that he reached the fade in someone’s name, it makes me think he’s not just power-hungry person(?) who’s just evil,but was originally serving someone, and he said that the gods were either gone or corrupted and he spent hundreds of years thinking what to do with whatever happened so he seems like he knows what he’s doing and maybe(!just maybe) he is trying to fix things that are wrong but we can’t see that? And of course he hates the inquisitor, he has to redo his stuff all over again, i’d hate the inquisitor too. im probably looking too much into it. My wish is that, if he’s evil, he became so gradually, but originally had good intentions? Or there’s more to things going on that we just don’t know and he does... Maybe this was his tragic attempt to fix things but he would ultimately fail and be branded as a villain etc etc. I’m getting carried away

If it turns out he’s just evil for the sake of being evil then feel free to tell me so now so i don’t embarrass myself further with plotting myself lol.

A side note, is he the Architect? Or the same? In DA2 he says he’s a tevinter magister, right? and he ceased to be a human. Also in DA2 it seemed like he was the boss, and here he said he reached in the name of someone (probably more important than him). But what is the Architect then?

And with that we reach the skyhold.

in skyhold

I didn’t know you meet hawke so soon ;__; i thought that was like, somewere more to the end of the game, since the big decision and all. But the mission is already opened and i am going to procrastinate on it until i finish every side mission :<

Also he is so sad ;__; i understand, but at the same time... all that humour now bitter sarcasm :’(

(also, very shallow remark, but i really really prefer his looks in da2 than here... it’s like they softened him. He’s more...oh god idk bearish(???) than hawkish(????) you know what i mean? the nose isn’t as sharp anymore, the beard is... what is it with the beard... anyways i get the game has its limits so it’s fine. it’s fine! fine.)

then there was the fight that i remember since twitter >:D

It’s what made me want to play dragon age and i finally reached it T-T so good! I love how you can see the both sides and everything they say is true but they’re so angry at themselves they’re taking it out on each other TAT

Cassandra later says Hawke probably wouldn’t have joined the inquisition even if she found him, and i wonder now if that’s true... At first i thought, nah, Hawke has too much of a hero complex, he would feel too responsible to just say no. Besides, he’s with the inquisition now (tho i can’t find him anywhere anymore!). But at the same time, the way da2 ends was such an iconic walking away from everything, and not taking into account the hocus-pocus rift stuff, i can imagine him refusing, especially seeing how bitter he is now. It’s also a question of how much would have cassandra told him i guess. idk, what do you think? Would he lead or nah?

another person i want to find but can’t in skyhold are the templars with ser barris. i can use them on war table missions but otherwise they’re non-existant? i forgot to talk to him back in haven but now i wonder if it was even possible and if he was even available there, since he isn’t here. I spent hours just running around skyhold looking for the guy :(

and then everything becomes unimportant bc aaaaa!! she! is the arcanist! Dagna! im so happy and proud(?) she went and reached her goals x)

anyways that’s all for now, laters

some random updates:

so i did the halamshiral and gave up to my “stick to the character” mode, and nothing went my way, but that’s life. Met morrigan! i almost forgot she appears lol. And, despite also jumping on the wagon of give-morrigan-better-clothes train, i have to admit seeing her in her old clothes was a relief after that dress at the ball. It’s not the way the dressed looked, but the way she moved in it... god im shallow

i also initially didn’t like morrigan being at orlais court of all places, but after the conversation that’s supposed to explain why she’s there i’m kinda ok with it. I mean, i still need some more info. Wouldn’t Tevinter be better? she’d practically become a magister overnight if she got this good in the game so fast. It’s also unconvincing how everyone knows everything in orlais but somehow nobody connected that the random kid that has no bakcground whatsoever with morrigan who keeps checking on him? But at skyhold she’s just “hey i have a kid, he’s no trouble, right?”  but hey, it’s morrigan. She can do anything. I’ll just have another story idea in my head.

Then there was news of the new divine that could be either cassandra or leliana and i don’t honestly know whom to choose. I’d prefer leliana over cassandra simply bc cassandra is more of a military mind, while the position of the divine would be more political. But lately every mission with leliana was spy spy, kill kill... Do we really want that for a religious leader? On the other hand, it would nicely round up her story from origins to inquisition... But cassandra is more of a public figure than leliana is...

when cassandra said:

“I want to respect the tradition, but not fear change. I want to right the past wrongs, but not avenge them. And I have no idea if wanting any of them makes them right.”

great moment. She’s usually so convinced and rash, i forget she’s more doubtful and open minded than what she looks like. Everything about cassandra is different from the impression she gives ;__; I love her so so so so much. (when she says she considers the inquisitor her friend i melted, next time varric pulls up the “seeker has no friends” joke, my heart will no longer be breaking).

I did a bunch of personal missions. Some were cool, some were ????. Also there were war table missions with zevran, that was cool. Also i love the codex entries in skyhold. The archery competition with varric banned? Dancing lessons failing bc lace harding is on the move all the time? Perfect.

And i met chargers, i like them, and aaah that staff-bow from the trailer is such a cool idea ;A;

What i don’t get with bull’s chargers is - they’re a mercenary group right? But isn’t swordselling seen as the complete misunderstanding of the qun? I get only bull is qunari, but he’s the leader of them? How is that not frowned upon?

And lastly, i don’t think i’ve said this, but i love that they added codex entries in the loading screens. love it.

update

After months of procrastination, i have faced my fears and have met alistair. it was very anticlimatic beating 11 level monsters when i was level 21...

but.. ALISTAIR TAT He’s changed... but not changed... but changed! Like, his personality is the same, but he’s more serious, doesn’t run from responsibilities, isn’t as bitter as hawke (also, why do i get impression that i am supposed to get the impression that they’re friends? they’ve met like, once, and talked for less than a minute.. whatevs. let’s pretend they’ve met again when on the run), i really love the inquisition alistair ;;__;;

Also, i managed to get that awkward demon baby family reunion :D

 know that morrigan says the vaguest generic thing “i told him his father was a good man” bc of various world states, but i also think she’s come a long way not to mock alistair, and then when he notices that she didn’t use the opportunity he mentions that the kid changed her and she’s like “pfft, yea right, you wish”....

... when she was the one who said that in the first place ;;__;;

Awwww :> I love that they bicker but softly. Kids have grown up :’) Anyways, when will alistair start paying alimony

The only weird one is Leliana bc when morrigan was introduced she was like “danger danger” (smth i’d sooner think alistair would do), and when alistair is (supposedly) in skyhold, Leli doesn’t even mention him, only hawke.  bruh, what were they to you, you almost died together ;;__;;

oh i also slayed a dragon.  I didn’t even want to fight that dragon. It was a hillarious feat of inquisitor, solas, cole and blackwall, all on level 21, having to chug all the health potions right at the beginning while fighting a dragon that was... level 13, after which i just let go of controls and suddenly everyone was hella good at fighting and slayed it (only cole needed revival several times).  

And, befitting the wild-dream feel that it had, when i got back to skyhold and visited companions, suddenly i was drinking pelin with iron bull, and he’s reminiscing on that fight with the dragon and i’m like

it was awful and you weren’t even there.

i forgot to update

but last time i was playing i finished the hawke/alistair sacrifice and all the torture i went through with deciding whom to sacrifice vanished bc frankly, at one moment, i wanted to sacrifice both of them, but in the end it was much more easier to sacrifice hawke bc inquisition hawke just didn’t feel like hawke to me, while alistair improved since the origins!

and now i remembered why i didn’t update, in the same day cassandra rejected me so i was sad and didn’t continue playing since then (i think last time i played it was around easter?)

new update

BLACKWALL!! or should i say Thom Rainier? Wow, what an arc! It was also so fun bc i was all strict mode, picking the third option, telling him his life is in inquisitor’s hands and all that, but in the end i set him free. He’s so good, a true knight T-T

Also i romanced sera. we’ll see how that goes.

Also, fave point in the game so far, i wanted, for so long, to sit at that val roeayoux (can’t spell) cafe and finally did it with cole’s personal mission. THANK YOU COLE YOU TRULY CAN READ PEOPLE’S MINDS.

another interesting thing was that after specialising as a reaver, cassandra said that drinking dragon blood makes you grow scales and become mad. Iron Bull said that inquisitor smells better bc dragon blood and that qunari generally smell better than humans. So i’m guessing qunari have fractions of dragon in them? ok...

and now i started that mission with morrigan and the puzzles are killing me lol, i am this 👌 close to just go chase calpernia and give up on a well of sorrows.

#it's a terrible time to start a dragon age game but it's the only time #meet me at val royeaux with my pal cole fixing people's lives every sunday 5 pm

[spicyteez]

Birthday Present

Boyfriend Wooyoung X Fem Reader 

Smut

Word Count: 5.1K

Summary: Wooyoung gives you the best birthday present you could ask for: a long night between the sheets. 

Warnings: Dry humping, Oral (fem receiving), fingering, soft sex, praise, overstimulation, Wooyoung being way too sexy, unprotected sex (please be safe!) Way too many uses of different pet names

A/N: I totally did not write this because today (3/13) is my birthday! Hehe. This one is purely self indulgent because topping Woo has been a huge fantasy of mine. Thank you all for the support you’ve been giving me! :)

Soft presses of pillowy lips to your neck awoke you from your slumber, the sensation tickling your warm skin. A giggle pushed past your lips as the kisses trailed towards your upturned lips, brushing along the underside of your jaw. The lips met yours delicately, a soft pressure that left you sighing in content. Eyes fluttering open, the sight before you never failed to leave you breathless. A gorgeous grin stretched across your boyfriend's boyish face, his eyes sparkling into yours. Propping himself up better, he lowered his head to rest mere inches from yours. Warmth radiated from his being, wrapping you in his comforting presence and provided a shield against the cool morning air. "Happy birthday princess." His fingers brushed the smooth skin of your cheek tenderly and he smiled fondly when you nuzzled deeper into his hand. Humming quietly, you placed your hand atop his and rubbed your thumb over his large knuckles. 

Closing the space between your bodies, he connected your foreheads. "What do you want to do today?" His hot breath mingled with yours and you stared into his sparkling orbs, watching the light dance across his irises. Brushing his nose with your own, you laced your fingers with his. "Anything. As long as it's with you." 

His eyes crescented as his handsome face pulled into a blinding grin. "I think I can arrange that." Moving together, your lips met in a sweet embrace. You giggled again when he smiled against your lips, his teeth clashing with yours in an inability to contain his happiness. 

He never could hold still and soon his lips moved to to trace the curve of your jaw and the raise of your clavicles. Fingers playing with the hair at his nape, you held his face and closed your eyes, a comfortable yet drowsy feeling pulling you towards unconsciousness. "Don't fall asleep baby, you have to leave in thirty minutes." 

Whining at the reminder of your shitty job, you pushed his face away and glared at him, lips pulling into a pout. Chuckling at your cute expression, he sat up and brought you with him, dodging your menacing glare. Hands grabbing your hips, he guided you to stand before him, his fingers trailing your body to rub circles into your sides. "It's a Friday baby. All you have to do is sit through eight hours of work and then you have the whole weekend to use me as you please." A mischievous smirk played across his lips, knowing just how tempting his words sounded. 

You gulped at the implications of his sentence and decided that sitting through your hellish shift didn't sound so bad when he gave you that to look forward to. He waited until you turned around to get ready before patting your ass appreciatively. Laughing at the glare you halfheartedly sent him, he smiled to himself once you left him alone. Excitement bubbled in his stomach, turning his grin goofy with anticipation. That night he planned to treat you like you deserved to be treated, like the most precious piece of his life which you undoubtedly were. 

Work flew by faster than expected, the multiple birthday wishes from your coworkers definitely lifted your mood. Throughout the day you found yourself daydreaming, your head flooded with sinful thoughts, distracting from your monotonous work load. The possibilities were endless, the whole night open to use as you please. You knew your needs would be met tenfold, leaving you shaking and exhausted from the dedication Wooyoung always put into making you feel amazing. Thinking back to his birthday a few months prior, you still felt an ache in your core when recalling the night of passion. He trusted you wholly, allowing you to bring him to his end over and over again. Loving caresses accompanied by gentle praises told of your adoration for him as you rode him throughout the night, milking his dripping release from his throbbing cock. Sighing at the vivid memories, you couldn't wait for the chance to give your body to him like he had given you his. 

Hours felt like days, slowly ticking by until the time came to pack up your belongings and push your time card through the machine. You practically vibrated with excitement the whole drive home, missing your boyfriend's adorable laughter and endless teasing. Walking into your quaint apartment, a note on the counter accompanied by a bouquet of your favorite flowers caught your attention. 

I'll be home soon, love. Happy birthday :)   

- Woo

The small smiley face brought a grin to your lips, his cuteness warming your heart. Slipping off your bland work clothing, you turned on the shower and stepped into the steaming jets of water. Rinsing the stress from your body, you closed your eyes and basked in the hot water, drowning out the rest of the world. 

A soft knock on the door brought you back to the present and you wiped the fog from the glass of the shower door to investigate the intrusion. Popping his head into the humid room, your boyfriend waved at you reassuringly and stepped towards the sink. Watching him wash his hands and fix his hair, you suddenly realized just how naked you were and just how hot he looked. His work enforced a professional dress code, and you secretly thanked whoever applied that rule whenever he came home. A pair of tight black slacks accentuated his figure, hugging his plump ass and muscular thighs. The pristine button down shirt he wore stretched across his broad chest, the sleeves rolled up just how he knew you liked it with a great view of his strong forearms. As if he sensed your stare, he turned and leaned against the vanity with a smirk. Crossing his arms, he looked you up and down, the veins in his arms popping out to drive you insane. 

"It's your birthday but it looks like I'm the one getting a present." 

Rolling your eyes at his innuendo, you rubbed the soap from your body, trying to hide the blush dusting your cheeks. You certainly received no help when he bit his lip and watched intently as your hand glided over your slick breasts. 

Standing from his perch against the sink, he dragged his eyes across your body one last time. "Take your time baby." Sending you a wink, he shut the door and left you to finish up. 

Letting out a breath you didn't even know you held in, you leaned against the wall and tried to process whatever just happened. He never failed to leave you a mess, his mere presence reducing you to a glob of lovesick mush. Maybe one day you'd be strong enough to withstand his charms, but truthfully you loved how he knew the fastest ways to get your heart racing. 

Toweling off, you forwent a bra, opting for a strappy dress with an open back to match his classy attire. Stepping out of the bedroom, you found him seated at the table with several candles lighting the room. Noticing your presence, he stood and held out his hand for you to take, pulling you close to his chest. Now that you saw the table up close, you noticed an elegant table setting and flower petals covering the tablecloth, setting a romantic mood. 

He pressed his lips to your temple quickly and grinned at your questioning glance. 

"What's all this?" Pulling back, you gazed up at his shining eyes. 

Taking time to admire your outfit, he held your hand above your head and spun you around slowly, the silky fabric hugging your curves perfectly. "I thought you'd be tired and decided to bring the dinner to you." Glancing at you, he felt a little nervous, worried you wanted to go out. 

Your heart warmed at his consideration, touched by how well he knew your wants. The week really took its toll on you and staying in sounded heavenly. "Thank you so much. It's perfect." 

He smiled again, relieved by your gratitude. Tugging your hand, he led you to the table and pulled out the chair for you to sit on, pushing the wooden seat towards the table once you were seated. "You're too good to me," You joked, following him with your eyes as he walked around the table. "I don't deserve you." 

Seating himself, he winked at you, replying sarcastically. "What can I say, my mother raised a gentleman." Taking your hand in his yet again, his thumb stroked the back of your palm, running over your knuckles repeatedly. Eyes softening, he looked into your warm eyes, an edge of seriousness creeping into his tone. “You deserve the entire world baby. Don’t let anyone tell you any different.” 

Grateful for this moment of intimacy, you cherished the evening, your full attention enraptured by him. The food tasted so much better without the bustle of a crowded restaurant, the quiet atmosphere of your apartment creating the perfect mood. Your combined giggles filled the air as he recalled a story of his coworker, Mingi, stranding himself at the office for hours by accidentally locking his tie in the door. Wiping a tear of laughter away, you sunk further in your seat, grateful for the casual setting. After devouring the food, Wooyoung pushed away from the table with the excuse of visiting the restroom. Instead of doing so, however, he returned with a small chocolate cake, lit candles casting shadows upon his beaming face. A soft chorus of the traditional birthday song flowed from his lips, his angelic voice leaving you speechless. Placing the cake before you, he finished his song and waited for you to make a wish and blow out the candles, cheering when they extinguished in one breath. The rich flavor of the cake tasted heavenly on such a special occasion, the light chocolate frosting drawing a pleased hum from your lips. 

Across the table, your boyfriend sat with a bit of frosting on his mouth, unaware of the dark stain on his cherry red lips. Reaching past the glasses and candles, you wiped his lip gently, collecting the chocolate on your outstretched thumb. Snapping his eyes up to meet yours, his quick tongue darted out, licking the saccharine substance from your finger. Frozen, you stared back at his dark eyes, watching as he continued to lap sensually at your thumb. Pulling away quickly, you broke eye contact and looked away, embarrassed of the sinful thoughts in your head ruining a sweet moment. Finishing your cake, you stood to gather the dishes, intending to wash them before relaxing for the night. A gentle hand on your wrist stopped you, soft eyes gazing up into yours. "Don't worry about it baby. I'll take care of it all." Nodding slowly, you grasped his hand and pressed a kiss to the heel of his palm. 

"I'm going to freshen up." Nodding at you, his eyes darkened a bit, anticipation clawing at his stomach. The two of you knew exactly what came next.

Standing before the bathroom sink, you stared at your reflection intently. Come on, Y/n. You've fucked so many times, why are you suddenly nervous? Shaking your head at yourself, you splashed your face with cold water, hoping to break yourself from this trance. You knew exactly why you were so nervous, nights like there were definitely different from your normal time in bed. Sex with Wooyoung was wild and passionate, always quick and intense with mind blowing stamina. His usual style differed from the classic vanilla and you loved every bit of it, every time you fucked you never knew what to expect. But tonight would be different, all about you. On special occasions such as Valentine's day, birthdays, and anniversaries, intercourse was slow and sweet, taking as long as possible to explore each other's bodies. This slow and romantic pace felt so raw, and a twinge of nerves always hit when you thought of just how vulnerable your soul felt in his hold.

The clink of dishes quieted down, silence filling the air once he cleaned the last one. You heard the door to your shared bedroom open and shut quietly, anticipation fluttering in your stomach. Pulling the short dress over your head, you folded the delicate fabric carefully and slipped into something more comfortable. Pinning up your hair, you took one last look at your frame in the mirror, deeming yourself cute enough to face your waiting partner. 

Shakily you opened the door, eyes on the floor as you stepped into the tense room. Eyes snapping up when he heard the door opening, Wooyoung scanned your frame, breath hitching as he recognized the oversized t-shirt you wore as one from his own drawer. You shifted, eyes finally looking up to take in his position at the end of the bed as well as his shaky demeanor. 

The overwhelming desire to make you his took over, his manhood straining against his tight pants. Beckoning you forward, he sat up straighter and drank in your innocent appearance. A surge of confidence ran through you as you noticed the effect you had on him, the tent forming in his pants growing larger by the second. You came to him, feet sinking into the plush carpet as you stood before him in nothing but your panties and his shirt. Fingers reaching for you, he gripped your hips tightly, pulling you to rest your legs on either side of his lap, straddling him. He squeezed your hips harshly, knowing the sensitive nerves of your erogenous zone would spark pleasure within your core. Moaning softly, you watched his lips melt into a smirk, the thought of reducing you to a whimpering mess spurring him on. 

Brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, he traced his finger tips down the expanse of your jaw, passing his thumb along your lower lip to tug on the delicate skin. His lips quickly replaced the digit, molding to yours in a way that left your head spinning. Caressing your lips slowly, he kissed you deeply, passion flowing from his plump lips. Your arms slowly traced the muscles in his back, supporting yourself by wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer into the slow kisses. The world faded away, his lips all you could focus on as you melted into his chest, tender touches relaxing the worry deep in your stomach. Tilting his head to deepen the kiss, his fingers danced along your spine, sending a delicious trail of sparks along your entire back. Continuing to explore your body, his large hands cupped your ass firmly, spreading your cheeks along with your pussy lips, the action rubbing your swollen clit against the material of your panties. 

Gasping against his lips, your surprise played to his advantage, his tongue slipping past your teeth. Humming into your mouth, his tongue tangled with yours sensually, caressing the muscle while his palms continued to knead your bottom. 

Bucking your hips, you found purchase on his thick bulge, the fabric along the zipper of his pants rubbing your clit perfectly. Pressing down harder, you ground into him deeply, feeling his dick twitch against your moist panties. With a groan against your lips, his hands returned to your hips, halting your actions and breaking the seal of your lips. You pouted cutely, whining when he grinned and pecked your nose sweetly. 

Tugging on the bottom of the shirt covering your torso, his knuckles brushed against the soft skin above the band of your panties. "Let's get rid of this, huh, love?" Nodding eagerly, you blushed when he chuckled at your excitement. Bunching up the fabric slowly, he inched the shirt up your stomach, leaning forward to press kisses to the exposed skin. As he pulled the pesky covering higher, his lips followed, every inch of your body receiving his love. His hands were at your waist now and you giggled softly when his mouth met your ticklish belly button. Up your body he went, along the valley of your breasts, nuzzling his nose into the perky peaks before slipping the garment over your head and onto the floor. His hands came to caress your breasts, pinching your erect nipple between two fingers. Squeaking at the tug on your sensitive nub, you played with his hair and leaned your forehead against his, gazing deeply into his eyes. 

"Thank you for the flowers, baby." 

The corner of his lips quirked up in a shy smile, his fingers squeezing your breasts harder. "I'm glad you like them. But you're prettier than any flower." His voice dropped to a whisper, pulling you into the little world the two of you shared. 

"You're so cheesy." 

"You love it." He cooed. 

"I do." Caressing his face tenderly, you leaned in to kiss the little mole under his eye, heart nearly bursting at the lovesick glint in his orbs. 

He stood suddenly and you yelped, wrapping your legs around his waist tightly. Chuckling lowly, he kissed you intensely, teeth clashing and tongues mingling. Placing you where he previously sat on the edge of the bed, he laid you down carefully, trailing his hand from your neck to your hips. Fingers nimbly unfastening the top buttons of his shirt, he loosened his tie, pulling the accessory from his neck and tossed it to the floor. With his hair disheveled from your hands and his collar popped wide open, nothing could compare to this view. Dropping to his knees before you, he hooked his arms under your thighs and pulled you to the edge of the mattress. 

"Tonight is all about you baby." He purred between kisses to your inner thighs. Starting at your knees, he worked up, the sweet scent of your arousal growing stronger the further he traveled. "Fuck, you smell so good." You whimpered at his animalistic tone, wishing your fingers were running over his body the same way his touched yours. 

Teeth sinking into the tender flesh of your upper thigh, he soothed your high pitched whines, tongue laving over the blossoming bruise. Hooking his thumbs in the band of your panties, Wooyoung slowly tugged the garment from your precious area, revealing your delicate petals. Your fingers dug into the sheets when his breath hit your core, holding onto the fabric akin to a lifeline. Spreading your folds reverently, his hooded eyes gazed at your pulsating walls as beads of translucent precum slid from your entrance, pooling on the silk sheets below. Tongue jutting out, he ran the muscle along your outer lips in a smooth stripe, the gentle pressure increasing the ache in your throbbing clit. Throwing your head back in pleasure, you stifled a loud moan with your hand when he pressed a kiss to your labia. 

"Don't be shy baby," He taunted, nudging his nose against your swollen nub. "Let me hear your pretty sounds." 

His resolve to have you moaning at his ministrations increased, his tongue darting out to slowly travel the length of your slit. Humming against your pussy, he lapped your sweetness, his own excitement growing from the taste of your juices. A strangled moan fell from your lips, his cock growing even harder from the lewd sounds you made. Continuing to please you, he kept the pace slow, worshiping your womanhood with each careful swipe of his tongue. Spreading your folds further, his tongue dove deeper into your depths, pushing past your entrance to stroke your velvety walls. Attaching his mouth to your lower lips, he sucked gently, applying pressure while trailing his tongue around your warm cavity. 

Back arching off the bed, you mewled in ecstasy, his hot breath teasing your sensitive area. Loud wet noises filled the silent room, the sinful lapping of his tongue clouding your head and drawing you closer to a mind numbing high. He always bragged about his long tongue, the length coming in handy to help him reach depths in you that no one else could touch. 

Suddenly he pulled away, the pleasure harshly ripped from your quaking body. Opening your eyes, you looked at his handsome face, his chin glistening with your gushing juices. Whining at the loss of sensation, you pouted at him, frowning when he laughed at your cute unhappiness. 

"I'm going to use my fingers now, baby. Okay?" Gazing up at you patiently, he awaited your consent, kissing your mound tenderly. 

You gave him a small smile, reaching down to brush his hair back into place. Trailing your hand to his cheek, you stroked the skin and gave him a nod of approval. 

Pushing your legs further apart, he brought his hand to your clit, stroking the nub in a circular motion. With a single finger, he split your folds from base to crown and ran the digit along the length of your tender slit repeatedly. Adding another finger, he spread your wetness, swirling over your clit before tentatively inserting his fingers into your pussy. He pushed in carefully, stretching your walls further with every passing second. Clenching around the intrusion, you felt the spark reignite in your stomach, his fingers sheathed deep within your core. The tight squeeze around his fingers left him speechless, the thought of your walls caressing his cock the same way burning in his imagination. When he felt you had adjusted enough, he pulled out gently, quickly thrusting in as far as he could reach. Your body jolted, gripping the sheets again as he set a relentless pace. Hips bucking to meet his thrusts, you rutted against his fingers, hitting your pleasure spot repeatedly. A choked groan left your lips, the sensation kindling the fire burning deep within you. 

"Right there?" He looked at you with a hint of smugness and you nodded enthusiastically, closing your eyes against the mounting pleasure. Pushing your hips to lay flat on the bed, his slick fingers sped up, striking the spot repeatedly. Your legs trembled, a tell tale sign of your close release. Calling out his name, you pushed away slightly. "W-woo stop!" 

Pulling out quickly, his eyes met yours immediately. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" Concerned for your safety, his hands ghosted over your body, checking for any signs of discomfort. 

"No baby. You were perfect. I just…" looking away, you tried to hide the embarrassment tinting your cheeks. "I want you to be inside me when I cum." 

Albeit cheesy, you really meant those words, wanting to feel him deep within you as you came however many times he desired you to. Turning your head to gauge his reaction, you watched him blink up at you, eyes full of lust and tenderness. 

"Oh god. You're going to be the death of me princess." He groaned, hand running over the straining bulge in his slacks. Biting your lip at the sight, you watched him break down and palm himself desperately, his cock painfully hard. 

Sitting up, you reach for him, bringing him close enough to press a greedy kiss to his lips. His mouth and tongue tasted like you, a foreign flavor he couldn't get enough of. Humming against his lips, you pulled him closer, melting at his tongue tangling with yours and the pedal soft texture of his lips. He pulled away before you'd had enough, mumbling against your lips almost incoherently. 

"You taste so good." 

Moaning against his lips, you fingered the buckle of his belt, slipping the crisp leather through the clasps and dropping the accessory to the floor. Hands pressing against his shirt clad torso, you trailed up his abdomen, fingers fumbling with the buttons of his work shirt. Your knuckles brushed his bare skin, his breath catching  as you unhooked the last button and traced his abs lightly. Grasping your hands, he kissed your knuckles lightly, watching you intensely. Pushing you back onto the bed, he crawled on top of you, discarding his shirt in the process. Fingers brushing over his toned chest, you felt the taut muscles in his arms holding him up as he hovered above you. His fingers fumbled with the button of his slacks, roughly maneuvering the article down his legs and onto the floor. Next came his boxers, falling to the floor and freeing his fully erect cock to slap against his abdomen. Dipping his head, he mouthed at your neck, groaning as his length rubbed against your inner thigh. Nibbling on the tender tissue of your neck, he breathed in your scent, mumbling words of praise into your skin. 

You melted into his touch, tilting your head to give him better access. His lips found your pulse point, your heart beat drumming just for him. Pressing a soft kiss to the spot, he felt your pulse, his heart swelling with gratitude for the ability to call you his. 

In a second he flipped positions, rolling over to rest you atop his solid chest. Eyes wide with surprise, you gazed down at him, watching the infatuation shining brightly in his deep brown orbs. Your fingers dug into his shoulders when you felt his fingers dive into your heat, scissoring your entrance to accommodate his length. His leg hooked around yours, pulling your thighs apart, thwarting your involuntary attempt to clamp your legs shut around his hand. 

Stroking your cheek lovingly, his teeth found your earlobe, shallowly sinking into the skin. 

"You've done so well baby. Can you take more?" His seductive purr left you shivering, a quiet whimper of "yes" falling from your lips. He held you tighter, his gentle dominance reducing you to mush. You were so in love, a total fool for every little piece of him. 

Fingers pulling out, he guided the tip of his cock to your entrance, gliding through your slick to lubricate his girthy length. Groaning in unison, you held onto each other tightly, losing yourselves in the pleasure. The angle at which you laid granted you a perfect view of his face, his features scrunched beautifully, mouth hanging open with relief from the painful hardness of his dick. With one last slide through your folds, he inserted the head of his length into your pussy, groaning from the tight squeeze. He waited for you to adjust, the tightness of your walls nearly bringing him to his end already. Pushing in further, his length filled you slowly, splitting your dripping entrance until his hips met yours. Feeling so full, your hands cupped his face, lips pressing to his, squeezing your eyes shut against the sting in your core. Pulling out slowly, he thrusted into you shallowly, your moans muffled by your connected lips. 

He rocked his hips into you slowly, taking his time with his thrusts, angling your hips to sheathe himself fully each time. "Fuck. You always take me so well." Praises fell from his lips just how he knew you liked it, his voice coaxing you closer to your high. 

Passion saturated the room, the agile glide of his hips maintaining the pace, sending your head spinning when his thick tip brushed your pleasure spot. Eyes fluttering shut, you cried out, fingers threading tightly in his hair. "I love you, I love you." You chanted, weakly rutting your hips to meet his gentle thrusts. 

Laying beneath you, Wooyoung watched your face, the way your eyes scrunched tight against the mounting pleasure, your hair disheveled with strands flying out of place, the way you bit your lip with every thrust in an attempt to keep your moans quiet. Perfect. Every single thing about you was absolutely perfect. He loved seeing you on top of him, the best position to cradle you to his chest and coo over your fucked out appearance, which he did every time you were intimate. 

Trailing his hands over your body, gratitude overwhelmed him, the fact that you trusted him this much with your heart and body hit him intensely. "Y/n…You're so beautiful" 

Opening your eyes, your heart flooded with emotions, eyes stinging with  tenderness for the man beneath you. The way he looked up at you, eyes swimming with adoration and pride, broke you down. Your damp eyes overflowed, a tear dripping onto his handsome face. 

"Oh baby girl. Don't cry." His eyes shone with emotion, pooling with wetness as well. Tracing your cheekbones with his thumbs, he brushed the tears from your cheeks as fast as they fell, his hips stuttering as his heart jumped. Sniffling, you buried your head in his neck, wrapping your arms around him tighter. 

He rubbed your back soothingly, thrusting into you continuously, maintaining his slow pace.

You laid like that for a while, his cock dragging against your walls perfectly as he made love to you passionately. Speeding up his thrusts, he tilted your chin up to look at him and kissed you slowly, his tongue swiping along your bottom lip. Pressing your forehead to his, you kissed him back, bouncing on his dick, clit rubbing against his abdomen as he fucked up into you. 

You felt yourself coming undone, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he slammed into you with vigor. 

"I..I'm close." You whimpered, scrunching your eyebrows in pleasure. 

"C-cum for me baby." Breath shaky, he reached around to rub at your clit, drawing high pitched whimpers from your lips and snapping the knot in your stomach. Releasing with you, he groaned, your spasming walls caressing his leaking cock. Deep within you he shot his load, white streaks of cum painting the canvas of your quivering pussy. Coming down from your highs, you closed your eyes, holding each other close in your post orgasm bliss. 

His eyes opened first, wiping the combined sweat from your foreheads. "You did so good for me sweetheart. I love you." His eyes shone with pride, unable to think of loving anyone but you. You smiled at him tiredly, pecking his grinning lips and lacing your fingers with his.

Brushing the flyaway hairs from your face, he looked at you cautiously, stroking your back gently. "Again?" 

Your body ached and your hips and pussy would definitely hurt in the morning but you didn't care. Nodding your head, you rested your head on his chest and hissed with him in oversensitivity when he stirred inside you. The pain quickly morphed into pleasure and he sped up, fucking your mixed cum deep into your spent hole. Heart full, you allowed him to lead you to your high once again, emotions peaking with your euphoric release. Although uncertain of how long you'd last, you gave yourself to him over and over, taking as much as he gave. With his fingers caressing every inch of your skin and his heart beating next to yours, you lost yourself in the love and pleasure of the special celebration.

#i love you all #i don't wanna get oldddd #but it has to happen i guess #plus i love wooyoung uwwu #ateez smut #wooyoung #wooyoung smut #smut #ateez imagine #ateez imagines #wooyoung imagine #wooyoung imagines #wooyoung fanfic #ateez fanfic #krys writes

[stillchaoticlogic]

Falling

Pairing: Raihan x Reader

Falling in love is easy...

It's falling out of love that's the hard part.

As you try to run from old feelings you meet someone who is determined to bring the spark back into your eyes. Raihan isn't sure what happened in the past and he doesn't care. He's got one shot to make you his and he's going to take it.

Begin at the End

You gaze in disbelief as, with a final fire blast, Hau’s Incinaroar sends your Ninetales to the ground. Your eyes widen and you summon her back into her Pokeball robotically. You smile at the new victor and you know, for the first time in three years what freedom tastes like. You walk towards Hau, no longer a boy of fifteen, but a young man of eighteen, and Alola’s new champion. You feel nothing but relief as you shake his hand and congratulate the shell-shocked male in front of you. 

You can practically feel the world jump to life as a new champion joins the ranks. You walk out of the arena for the last time. You wish you could say it’s bittersweet, but all you can feel is the joy of escape.

The hallway leading to the locker room is long and dark. You notice a figure leaning against the wall near the end, you don’t pause just keep walking until his voice pierces the silence. 

“Did you throw the match?”

You stop and turn towards Kukui, your friend and co-worker, the man you had fallen in love with. The man you could never have. 

“No.”

“Don’t lie to me…”

“It doesn’t matter if I did or I didn’t… I’m no longer the champion of the Alola region. As far as I’m concerned I’m a free woman now.”

“You make it sound like we’ve been holding you prisoner.”

“I came here to escape the limelight and yet you were determined to throw me into it all over again. I did as you asked! I built your league, I chose and trained your gym leaders and I put Alola on the map. I would like to be left alone now.”

“(Name)... what happened? I thought you liked it here… You’ve been so distracted lately… and now your loss…”

“Hau will be a great Champion, he grew up on the islands and his grandfather will help him. He will be a wonderful leader and a shining light to trainers here. Don’t worry, your league will be fine.”

“But-”

“Kukui I need to go. I can’t stay here anymore…” You mutter forlornly as you continue on your way leaving him to his thoughts in the darkness. 

That night as you sit gazing at the TV screen a ping on your phone alerts you to a new message. 

Hello (Name)! 

This is Leon, Champion of the Galar region! It has been brought to my attention that another champion has taken over your mantle. Your final battle as champion was absolutely smashing, by the way! The Galar League would like to invite you to consider heading our own league. We are aware you helped to build The Alolan League from the ground up and after the recent loss of our own chairman we are looking for someone to take his place! We believe you would be perfect! We understand that this is a large commitment, so we would like you to come to Galar to get a feel of our League. All expenses will be paid by the committee, of course!

I look forward to your reply!

Leon 

You gaze down at the email before you and you can’t help but feel desperation come over you. A way out! A purpose! A distraction! Better than all of that… An entirely new region away from the man you aren’t supposed to be in love with. 

Your reply back is simple: 

I’ll leave tomorrow.

(Name)

Your escape from Alola is quick and quiet. You are dressed in a pair of ripped blue jeans, with a black top and a blanket like ruana along with your combat boots. You board the plane that almost no one is on and sigh in relief as the plane takes off. Perhaps you will feel more guilty about running off without an explanation later, but right now you need the solitude. 

***The Galar Region***

Raihan can hardly believe his eyes as he watches the replay of the championship match. The (Name) (L.Name) lost to some kid? Raihan is mad about her and had looked up to her for the last couple of years. She is cool, confident, and funny with this cunning wit that he loved. He loved to watch her battle because it was always wild. He could tell that she had grown up battling with these intense strategies and insanely powerful pokemon. They were all powerhouses in their own right; his favorite though, is definitely her Garchomp.

He had noticed the last few months things had been different. She seemed bored in her battles and where she had always been quick-witted and charming during the post-battle interviews, she was now short with her answers. He was a little worried about her, but he had also never met her before, so it’s not like he can just slide into her DMs and start asking personal questions. This last battle had confirmed his suspicions though. She looked relieved when she lost. The champion that he looks up to would never be relieved to lose. Raihan frowns over his eggs as he continues to watch the report. 

The distinct ring of his phone woke him from his musings. Raihan would normally ignore a call so early in the morning, but it’s Leon and he had been helping him look for someone to replace the chairman. 

“What could you possibly need this early?” Raihan asks as he answers the phone. 

“Raihan! She’s coming! She’s on a plane and she’s arriving this evening!”

“Who is?” 

“(Name) (L.Name)!”

“What? How?” he asks in bewilderment. 

“I sent her an email last night! She replied while I was asleep and she said she’s leaving today! It’s a ten-hour flight from Alola! She’s going to be here tonight!”

“She lost her title yesterday! How is she already getting on a plane!”

“I don’t know! But we need to book a room and arrange tours and dinners! You know she would be perfect to run the League! And we’ve been looking for months!”

“I know man… I know… Let’s just take this one step at a time…” Raihan says with a sigh as he leaves his uneaten eggs on the table and heads to his room to change. He hadn’t been expecting his idol to arrive in Galar tonight, but he’s not complaining about it. 

***Later***

You pull the ruana closer around you and adjust the sunglasses. Your steps are quick and sure as you head towards the front of the airport. The nice thing about being a champion is the perks it affords you as you flash your credentials. You walk over to the luggage carousel and pluck your bag from the belt when it comes around. 

You notice a small crowd formed around a couple of people. Upon closer inspection, you see Champion Leon and the eighth Gym Leader Raihan. You walk closer to them and only stop when you hear a small gasp. You look down at the small girl and smile as she squeals.

“Y-you’re- (Name)!!”

“I am! And who are you? You ask as you bend down to speak to her. You don’t notice the silence that has taken over the crowd, or the awe in which they look upon you. 

“I’m Claire! You’re my favorite!” she declares in excitement. 

“Why thank you! Do you have a favorite?” you ask indicating the pokemon on your belt.

“Aurora!” she squeals. 

You tap the top of one of the Pokeballs and Aurora pops out. She gazes around at the crowd before addressing the 8-year-old girl in front of her. You smile at the look of wonder and awe on her face. 

“She’s...beautiful!”

Aurora sits regally beside you then yips at the little girl and bowing her head. Claire looks up at you, you give her a nod of permission then she takes a hesitant step forward and gingerly touches the soft fur on Aurora’s head. 

“She’s fierce in battle, but a total sweetheart otherwise.” 

Aurora lets out a soft cry as she looks back up at you. You run your fingers through her soft fur. 

“Thank you!” Claire says as he gazes up at you in wonder. 

“You’re welcome!” you say as you pull a card from your pack. You sign it before you hand it to her making her gasp. 

“This the best day!” She exclaims as she rushes back to her parents. They look over at you with gratitude before beaming down at their daughter. 

Aurora taps her Pokeball with her nose and a moment later she is nestled inside against your hip. 

“That was...really cool of you to do,” Raihan says as he walks up beside you. He takes the bag from the floor beside you silently offering to carry it for you. 

You shrug in reply, “She’s sweet and how can I turn down such a face?” 

 “I wasn’t expecting you so soon, but I’m glad you could make it! I’m Leon!” Leon says as he steps forward. 

“I’m sorry it was such short notice, but I need a break from Alola. I know I didn’t really give you any time to prepare anything, so just take your time with things. I’m in no rush.”

“Well, I’m sure you’re hungry! There is a great steakhouse near here if you would like to go? My treat of course!”

You give Leon a soft smile, “That’s very kind of you to offer, but I’m tired from the flight. Perhaps something quicker?”

Raihan, who had been letting Leon do the talking and silently psyching himself up, interjects, “What about pizza?”

“A man after my own heart…” you say as you give him a smile, he happily returns it.

Sitting at the pizza place you feel yourself relax a little bit. Leon is doing most of the talking and Raihan seems to be shooting you glances every now and then but doesn’t speak much. 

“I was thinking that you could take a day tomorrow to get adjust, maybe we could show you the town. Then we will start the tour of the gyms and give you a breakdown of the League.” You rest your head on your hands as you listen to Leon. You can tell both of them are nervous, most likely due to the upcoming Gym Challenge. Their former chairman has been stripped of his title and is currently atoning for, well almost destroying the world. They need someone to run things, and you can tell from the bags under Leon’s eyes that he’s been burning the candle at both ends. 

“Don’t be so nervous, I think this will be a good fit for me. I’m mostly curious about the challenges and your gym leaders. My understanding is you don’t have an elite four? You do a challenger competition then a tournament leading up to the championship battle. It’s a little different than what I’m used to, but I can roll with it,” you say with a shrug.

Leon’s shoulders sag in relief, “I’m glad you think so, things have been crazy trying to figure out what needs to be done for the upcoming challenge. I don’t think I can coordinate that and fulfill my champion duties. Raihan and several other gym leaders have been helping out, but they won’t have time for long. I think you would be a great fit and I hope you think so too.”

“No, of course not, you all have things that need to be done for your own gyms. Also, I’m not trying to be presumptions but it sounds like the job is mine if I want it.”

“It is,” Leon says with finality. 

“I think that was the easiest job interview I’ve ever had,” you say with a smile as you take a bite of the pizza in front of you. 

Both men look relieved as they bite into their own food. 

The next day dawns with a text message from Leon stating he’s got some business to attend to, but Raihan will be showing you around. So you’re not surprised when Raihan is waiting in the lobby for you with a cup of coffee and a danish. 

“Did you bring me coffee and food? Watch out… I may decide to marry you on this tour.”

He laughs as he hands the treats over to you, “I wouldn’t be too opposed to that…”

You pretend not to see his wince and the silent chiding he gives himself. 

“Oh? So you like getting married to women you just met?” you say with a smile over your coffee cup, teasing him. 

“Ehh more like getting married to women I admire. I’m kinda a huge fan of yours…” he trails off and looks down obviously embarrassed. 

You smile as he attempts to hide his face from you, “I think that’s awesome that you’re a fan. You’re a really amazing trainer so it’s an honor that you like the way I battle.”

He looks up in surprise, “Really? You’ve seen me battle?”

“Of course! I don’t want to play favorites or anything… but I’ve been hoping you’d take the title for a few years now. You’ve got a… wildness… that Leon doesn’t have. Kinda reminds me of...me…”

“I’m not going to lie… Several of your strategies have inspired a few of mine. That battle you had with Lance a few years ago… That was intense!”

You laugh, “Lance is an old friend, every time we get together I goad him into a battle. He taught me a lot about dragons and battling in general, he’s a little stiff, but he’s great at what he does. He mostly just thinks I’m the little sister he never wanted.”

“You know a ton of great champions and trainers don’t you?”

You shrug as you head off down the street towards the taxi he called, “It comes with the territory… When you make champion I’ll make sure you meet the right champions to further your career.”

“When?”

“We both know it’s going to happen… You have too much passion and drive for it not to.”

Raihan stops at the casual way you proclaimed his victory over Leon as if it had already happened. As if it’s set in stone. Do you really have that much confidence in him? 

“Well if you keep talking like that then we just might have to get married today,” he says with a laugh as he bumps your shoulder. 

You giggle as you climb into the taxi, and for just a moment you feel light and free with the giddiness of hope that this is where you need to be.

Notes: 

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of my Raihan fic! I think it’s an interesting dynamic and it’s going to be fuuunnnn! I basically just want awkward yet smooth Raihan flirting with me making me feel like a queen all day. Come at me....

Anyway! Please let me know your thoughts!! Also, do you like the thought of certain parts being told from his POV? Let me know and I’ll play with it if you do!

#raihan x reader #pokemon raihan #pokemon raihan x reader #gym leader raihan #pokemon #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon swsh #pokemon fanfiction #pokemon imagines

[ladyinbooks]

Ficlet Fridays!

In a bid to make sure I keep writing regularly, I’ve challenged myself to doing ficlet Fridays. So, small little ficlets here on the tumbleweed tumblr every Friday, of any of my current WIPs (or the IB ‘verse).

If anyone would like to throw a prompt into the writing ring, please do feel free!

Today we have some more of poor Severne Pallas, and his (brief) continuing adventures with the royal disaster duo:

Funeral Games

Pairings: Samiel/Jason (hints of Samiel/Pallas/Jason)

Notes: A quick little ficlet, dealing with the Great Kidnap Plan. No major warnings beyond AU!Samiel and Jay (and thank you to Sukka, for making me think about the Samiel/Pallas/Jay dynamic).

It has been three days since the Agapios put his plan into action.

Most of those three days, Pallas has spent pacing in a cell. Beneath him, he can feel the hum of the ship's engine; it's a sensation he still can't get used to. He's spent most of his life with his feet planted firmly on the ground, only travelling when he needed to, and never for this length of time.

“You do get used to it,” the Agapios says, when Pallas tells him.

He's sitting on the only bunk in the room, one leg propped up as he watches Pallas going slowly insane. His presence, Pallas can admit, is a comfort.

It is also a worry.

Right now, Pallas knows, Most Exalted is on his way to them. That's the whole purpose of this exercise. What he is less sure of, is how forgiving his King will be, when Pallas has had to let his husband be kidnapped.

Samiel Callios has killed for less.

“Stop worrying,” the Agapios says, as though he can read Pallas' mind. When Pallas glances at him, startled, he gives a little shrug. “I can hear your thoughts spiralling from here.”

“How do we know this will work?” Pallas blurts out, then winces. He hadn't meant to be so indiscreet. “I mean – ”

The Agapios slides off the bunk, crossing the room in two easy strides. He gets a hand on Pallas's shoulder and gives him a little shake. “Calm down,” he says. “Deep breaths. This is hardly the first time I've been held by a hostile force.”

“Well it's the first time I've had to guard you when you have!” Pallas snaps, then immediately regrets it.

The Agapios' lips twitch once, as though he is suppressing a smile. “You're doing very well.” The grip on Pallas's shoulder tightens reassuringly.

From this close, they are almost eye to eye. Pallas is a little surprised to realise he may even be slightly shorter than Jason Lane. He blinks, then blinks again. The Agapios' eyes are calm; thoughtful. It's like staring into the mist on the foothills outside Maa-Tarek.

For a moment Pallas's heart thumps once, painfully, in his chest.

“Agapios, I – ”

The ship lurches suddenly, an alarm screeching to life in the corridor outside their cell. It is ear-shattering, wailing above the sound of running feet and sharp, concerned voices.

Pallas staggers, and only the Agapios' grip keeps him upright. “What's going on?”

“I believe,” the Agapios says dryly, “my husband has just arrived.”

******************************************************************************************

After, Pallas only remembers their escape in fragments.

He remembers running; remembers too the shouts of startled Drakkia as they encountered the small group of Lenians who had boarded their ship. He thinks he saw Lysander Kyrios, snarling and furious, holding off four soldiers.

There was Most Exalted, blade in hand, carving through Drakkia like they were an afterthought; a nuisance.

Someone put a salzon in Pallas’s hand, and he remembers wanting to do some damage. Three days of frustration and worry boiling under his skin, and he refused to hold back.

The Agapios was the opposite of most of the chaos - calm and precise. Someone had given him a pistol, and he had been picking off Drakkia with disturbing ease. Pallas remembers the way he'd looked – flame-haired and sturdy; a pillar they had rallied around.

After, there are only a few Drakkia left, Kyrios among them. They are being rounded up under the watchful eye of Severne Kleos.

Pallas watches the whole thing, propped up in one corner. Now the adrenaline is wearing off, the stress is catching up with him and he's starting to tire.

“You're alright,” Most Exalted is saying. He has his Agapios by the nape of the neck, their foreheads pressed together as he breathes deeply. “You're really – ”

“I'm perfectly fine,” the Agapios says. “It went exactly as planned. Better, in fact. They were more interested in – ” He's cut off by a kiss, hard and desperate.

For a heartbeat, Pallas can't help but watch the way Most Exalted pulls his Agapios closer; the way the Agapios buries strong fingers in his King's hair, fiercely reassuring. They are dangerous; beautiful.

The scene is intimately shocking, even after so long exposed to the pair of them. It makes Pallas's mouth a little dry; makes his heart beat faster.

He turns his head away.

“Besides,” he hears the Agapios say. “I had Pallas with me.”

And no. No. Pallas does not want to draw the attention of his King right now. He's too tired to answer questions; too strung out to want to deal with that kind of intensity.

He closes his eyes, and hopes he escapes notice.

Footsteps approaching tell him he's not going to be so lucky. He heaves a quiet sigh and waits for the inevitable axe to fall.

“Severne Pallas,” Most Exalted says softly.

When Pallas opens his eyes, Most Exalted is standing in front of him. He's close enough that if Pallas reached out a hand, he could press his palm to his King's chest; could feel his heart beat through his tunic.

Samiel Callios is terrifying and beautiful, and honestly Pallas wishes he would go away right now.

“Most Exalted,” he says instead, drawing himself up and trying to look at least partially confident. He's lost his visor somewhere, and as Most Exalted studies his face, he longs for it with an intensity that he doesn't think he's ever felt before.

“You were imprisoned with Jason.” Most Exalted is watching him. His expression is thoughtful; the faintest of frowns drawing a line between his eyes.

This is it, Pallas thinks. This is the moment he condemns me for not doing enough. He lowers his gaze, ducking his head so he doesn't have to see the disappointment on his King's face.

The cool touch of fingers under his chin makes him flinch, surprised. Pressure makes him tilt his head back up, until he is eye to eye with Most Exalted.

For a moment, something flickers in his King's expression – there and gone so fast, Pallas isn't sure what he's seen.

“Thank you,” Most Exalted says. “I knew we could trust you.” He presses his lips, warm and dry, to the corner of Pallas's mouth.

It is –

It –

It's unheard of, Pallas thinks dizzily. It is absolutely unheard of for the royal couple to show favour in any way, let alone this. It marks him, in the eyes of his fellow Severne, as a higher rank; the King's most intimate bodyguard.

He doesn't deserve this. He doesn't –

Bewildered, he meets the Agapios' gaze over Most Exalted's shoulder.

Lane does not look surprised. He does not look disturbed, or annoyed, or any other emotion Pallas may have been expecting. Rather, there is outright approval on his face as he watches the pair of them.

Pallas sees him approach, and barely flinches when Most Exalted steps back. “I don't – ” he begins, bewildered.

The Agapios touches his cheek briefly; a gentle brush of the thumb that catches on the line of Pallas's jaw.  “Severne Aristeos,” he says quietly. “You have our gratitude.”

The King leans into his beloved, lips pressed close to his ear. He mutters something that Pallas doesn't quite catch. The Agapios' mouth twitches in amusement; his eyes lighting up as he listens to his husband.

“Perhaps another time,” he says, loud enough for Pallas to hear. He takes the King's arm. “At the moment we have work to do.”

“Don't we always?” the King complains, as he lets himself be steered away. “There's always something more with you, mio ades.”

“Well,” the Agapios says, amused. “You know what they say.” He shoots a wink over his shoulder at Pallas. “No rest for the wicked.”

They walk off bickering comfortably, leaving Pallas standing there with his heart pounding, his mouth hanging open.

He's ended up with royal favour. Public royal favour. He doesn't know how this has happened. He's not –

He doesn't –

“Oh gods,” he says softly to no one in particular. “What have I let myself in for?”

#Jason Lane #Samiel Tremark #Ficlet Fridays #the IB unholy trinity

[crimsonrae]

Disintegration

Chapter Three

Summary: He witnessed the worst night of her life, he just never expected for her to become the love of his life.

KlausxCami

Warnings: Mentions of Domestic Abuse.

Rating: Mature

A/N: Something of a slow burn between Camille and Klaus. There is quite of bit of ground to cover. In the next chapter or two, there will be limited interactions between them if any. I'll explain more about why Marnie Taylor is important and what exactly Klaus is up to as we go on. Please read, comment, and enjoy. I really do appreciate any and all feedback. Thank you!

Chapter Three

"Mr. O'Connell -"

"This family has supported this university for decades -"

"Mr. O'Connell!" Dean Shaln interjected with exasperated force.

Camille couldn't fault his ire as he barely refrained from glaring at her red-faced father. Callan O'Connell was not handling the news of her expulsion well and had been on a steady rant for almost five minutes. He spoke over the harried dean with a single-minded determination that she would have found impressive if she hadn't been wishing she was anywhere else.

She hadn't been surprised by Dean Shaln's decree. She had attacked Scott in a public area on campus with hundreds of witnesses. It was the school's responsibility to keep its students safe and Camille had destroyed that sense of safety with one quick swipe of a beer bottle. She was now termed a risk to the student body and must therefore be removed. It was a shame that they hadn't deemed Scott the same risk.

If only they had seen the purple bruises and bloodied clothes of her roommate. If only, Scott had been dumb enough to hit her in the presence of another person. If only Marnie had said something...

To make matters worse, Camille had received a handful of anonymous notes, thanking her for her aggressive actions. One wishing she had done more to the predatory asshole. Tears had crawled down her cheeks as she had read each carefully penned word. In true horror, she hadn't realized the extent to which Scott had been getting away with his abuse. There had been at least three other women who had suffered silently at his hands.

"Your family's support is not in question. Your daughter's actions are." Shaln huffed with an indignant calm, "I understand she was acting in defense of her roommate but considering Ms. Taylor has yet to come forward to corroborate Camille's side, there is little I can do. There is a zero-tolerance policy on violence which your daughter was aware of when she signed the admittance paperwork. I'm sorry, but her expulsion stands."

"This is ridiculous!" Callan growled.

Cami could see him gathering air as he prepared to launch his next attack. She barely smothered a sigh. Instead, her focus turned toward the worry that gnawed at her gut like an incessant pest. Marnie hadn't been seen since Thursday night. Camille hadn't known the hospital had released her friend mere minutes after she had left her side. Her calls had gone unanswered, as had countless texts. She didn't think that Scott had managed to do anything to his girlfriend in the few short hours that Camille had been away from either... but she couldn't shake her sense of dread.

She silently prayed that Marnie had decided to lay low in hopes of making a clean break from Scott.

"Callan."

Camille stiffened at the sound of her mouther's voice. She had nearly forgotten the older woman was there...nearly.

Vivian O'Connell hadn't spoken beyond the standard pleasantries at the start of the meeting. She had sat calm, cool, and collected with near regal poise as she listened to both men and, to a certain extent Cami, as she answered questions and defended her actions. Even now, her voice was no more than a low murmur, but it effectively cut through and silenced her irate husband.

Callan turned his jade gaze – so similar to Cami's unto his wife in quiet askance.

Vivian smiled politely, "I think we've heard enough. I've arranged a meeting with the school board later this week. We will be withdrawing our funding, as will the Travis, Beaufort, and Bendecott families."

Dean Shaln paled as she listed the top three financial providers for the university. He had forgotten that Vivian O'Connell belonged to the Beaufort family and had strong ties with the other two, "Mrs. O'Conell, I hardly think that necessary."

"I do." Vivian stated stalwartly, "You talk of the safety of the students, but you have failed to address the issue of Scott Nebroski. According to campus police, the accusations that Camille has levied against him have not been the first. There have been others and yet, he remained here. Preying on the young women of this campus. This entire situation could have been avoided if you had simply expelled the so-called victim of this fiasco when he had initially been brought to your attention."

"There had been no substantive evidence of Mr. Nebroski's wrongdoing. I cannot expel a student on hearsay." Shaln defended quietly, but even Camille could hear the feebleness of his response.

Vivian snorted and Cami arched a brow at the unusually crass action, "And what would be substantive evidence, Mr. Shaln? Does a young girl need to be bleeding out in front of you? Does she need to be lying in a hospital bed or perhaps dead before you take action? It's clear that the needs and safety of the women here are not taken into proper consideration."

"Mrs. O'Connell -"

"Perhaps this will change your mind." Vivian continued as if she hadn't been interrupted and Camille watched bemused as her mother pulled a folded paper from her purse. It took her a moment to recognize the paper as one of the notes that had been left for her.

She blanched and opened her mouth in protest, "Mom!"

"Hush, Camille." Vivian reproached dismissively, "That was left for Camille. She has received several others. It's shameful that it took the actions of my daughter to put an end to this monster's reign and even that remains ambiguous. Someone here should have listened sooner."

Cami bit her tongue as she kept back an invective remark. She hadn't realized her mother had seen the notes on her desk. Unbridled anger and a hint of helplessness coursed through her veins as she watched the note slide into the Dean's hands. Those letters had been private – intimate. And while logically Camille knew that these tokens of gratitude had the potential to help her out of this mess, she hadn't wanted to spread these girls' secrets. Their pain wasn't hers to share.

The Dean merely gave the note a passing glance and Cami knew then he wouldn't read it. And if he did, he wouldn't understand.

Vivian seemed to sense the same as she arched a cold brow, "I believe we're done here. I'll be seeing you at the board meeting, Mr. Shaln."

No one missed the emphasis that she placed on the mister and Camille had no doubt that he would be out of the job by the end of the month. Her mother was many things, but ineffective had never been one.

In tense silence, the trio exited the Dean's office as he quietly followed. Shaln, by his grace, made no attempt at empty platitudes. The resignation in his façade said it all. Cami almost felt a shine of pity for the man.

"Dean Shaln, your one o'clock is here."

"Thank you, Ms. Lankam."

The quiet aside was summarily ignored by the O'Connell family. Camille could see that her father wanted to make one more cutting remark and she averted her gaze from the burgeoning spectacle. Feelings of embarrassment, and frustration were threatening to overwhelm her as it was... It was then that her gaze landed on Dean Shaln's next appointment.

A growingly familiar figure turned toward the office door and Camille found herself caught in the dully curious currents of an oceanic gaze.

Klaus.

She blinked, wondering dimly if she were imagining him. It couldn't be a coincidence that he was standing here.

"Camille." Klaus murmured with a crooked smile that danced somewhere between polite and lecherously charming, "A pleasure to see you so soon."

"Klaus - what?" She sputtered befuddled.

His smile widened slightly at her fumble, "We need to stop running into each other like this, lest I begin to think you're stalking me, love. Though I could think of worse stalkers to have."

Camille was considerably less amused. Any other time, she was sure that she would have found him charming and flirted back, but her morning had been fraught with tension, and her desire to maim or runaway – both equally appealing – roiled too close to the surface.

She refrained from rolling her eyes as she pursed her lips, "Considering I was here first, I believe that would make you the stalker, not me."

"Camille."

Cami winced, not needing to turn to picture her mother's face. The imperviously impassive mask that catered to an ice-cold stare as she studied Klaus. Vivian would have the appearance of civility with the bearing of a disdainful queen as she called her daughter to heel.

Reluctantly, she followed Klaus's curious gaze, barely noting the quiet words that her father was harshly imparting to the Dean.

No.

As for the hundredth time in the past five days her world was squandered by her mother's quiet disapproval. Disapproval which she had unwittingly extended to Klaus by simply participating in their little exchange, she was sure.

She was suddenly thankful she had his number. She would have to call and apologize to him later for whatever was about to occur.

Vivian dismissed Klaus with a flicker of her lashes, "It's time we leave. Say goodbye to your... friend."

It was insane how quickly Camille descended into her thirteen-year-old self at those words. A large part of her wanted to die from embarrassment from being ordered about like a child, another wanted to huff and start a fight, but by some strand of control, she did neither.

She gritted her teeth, her eyes flashing dangerously as she missed the morbid interest in Klaus's near rapturous observation.

Cami turned back to him, forcing a smirk that looked more like a scowl. Humor gazed back at her and she was torn between making a biting remark at him and truly smiling. She didn't want to like his enjoyment of her discomfort, "Well, stalker, it looks like we'll have to pick this up some other time."

Klaus arched a brow, but inclined his head in agreement, "I look forward to it, love. Perhaps another round of question for a question. I remember you have quite a few."

"As if you don't." Cami murmured with a softer smile, "It is good seeing you, Klaus. I'll call you."

"Will you?" His question was teasing but his eyes were daring her to stand by her words.

"Mr. Mikaelson?"

Again, the duo was broken from their bubble. This time Klaus was the one to grit his teeth as he acknowledged the Dean's summons.

"It seems we really must part ways." Klaus muttered before he stepped forward and placed a kiss to her cheek, "I look forward to that phone call."

Just as the last time, Camille felt a blush rise to her face as his bold actions. She barely blinked, only to find that he was no longer before her, but stepping into the office she had just vacated.

"I thought you were dating that other boy."

Cami barely suppressed a sigh, "Ian, mother. His name is Ian. And Klaus is merely a … well, Klaus."

Terming him a friend hardly seemed appropriate, but she would say he was more than an acquaintance. He was an enigma, a nice distraction from the foibles of her current situation. A distraction that she couldn't afford to fall headlong into, she acknowledged quietly... because as nice as it was to flirt and forget with him, Klaus came with the added danger of being trouble. Her attraction wasn't one-sided, and temptation could make her disloyal. She had no desire to betray her boyfriend in that manner.

With that thought in mind, Cami made the decision to not call Klaus. He would be no more than a passing guy in a bar that had engaged her interest for a short while.

Unaware of her daughter's meandering thoughts or disappointed resolve, Vivian merely hummed knowingly. She was not blind to the sparks the couple emitted in their short conversation, but truly Camille's taste in paramours was the least of her concerns, "Well, I'm sure Ivan is waiting for you at the dorm. We best get you packed."

Cami bit her tongue for what felt like the hundredth time. Her mother knew full well that Ivan was not his name, but these little slights were Vivian's way of reinforcing her dislike for Ian. She had done it with every single one of Camille's boyfriends. As infuriating as it was, the familiar rebuke also brought her a strange sense of comfort. Her mother passive-aggressively dismissing and critiquing her life was normal... Cami needed normal.

"Where's dad?" Cami asked as she noticed that he was no longer residing in the front office. Only Ms. Lankam remained as she diligently ignored the women from behind her computer.

"Oh, he stormed off in a huff. You know how he is and that famous Irish temper of his." Vivian murmured quietly a weary gleam entering her grey gaze, "Something that you've inherited."

Cami sighed, "Mom... I know you're not happy with me."

Her mother raised her hand to forestall any further defense and gestured for her to follow her out the building, "I didn't raise you to be a violent woman, but I will not rebuke you for what you did to that... well, I won't even dignify calling him a man. I simply wish you had been more aware of your surroundings when you acted. Could have saved us the headache."

Cami blinked "What...?"

Something resembling a smirk crossed Vivian's lips, "I saw the photos the police took of Mr. Nebroski. You may have your father's temper, but you certainly have my vicious streak. He deserved everything you gave him. Like I said I simply wished you had been smarter about when and how you acted."

Icy shock shook Camille to her core as she finally noticed the pride that shined in Vivian's gaze, and while part of her felt warmed by her mother's support, a larger part of her felt vaguely sick. Why had it taken this act for her to receive that glance from her mother?

"Right...sorry." She murmured, unsure how to progress their conversation or even if she wanted to...

"Honestly, Camille, you would think that you wanted me to be upset with you." Vivian chided.

Camille swallowed another sigh... she really couldn't win.

____________________________

In truth, Klaus had not engineered this latest run-in with Camille. It had been an accident he was more than happy to cultivate.

He arrived at Dean Shaln's office midway through Callan O'Connell's tirade. He hadn't even needed his enhanced hearing to hear most of the meeting inside and to say he was displeased was like saying the Amazon was filled with trees. True, but did not convey the depth and breadth of such foliage. He respected Mr. O'Connell's passionate defense of his daughter, but his interest had peaked with the calmly calculated words of his wife.

Mrs. O'Connell could either be a strong ally or a formidable enemy it seemed. Shaln had stupidly made her the latter. Had made him the latter as well, and Klaus hadn't even met the man yet.

Yet, standing before him now, Shaln proved to be exactly the mediocre bureaucratic cowardly administrator that Klaus had expected. He supposed that he had Mrs. O'Connell to thank for the man's near mercenary kindness. The dean was currently extolling the virtues of the university ad nauseum, more than hungry for a new prolific donor as it seemed that three would be lost in short order.

Klaus let him ramble as he silently perused the contents of the other man's desk. There was the usual paperwork nonsense and drivel that seemed to clog any office, but under a few leaves, he spied the edge of a file containing Camille's name. Two more files resided underneath, and he would bet all the money in his coffers that those files belonged to Scott Nebroski and Marnie Taylor.

Humming slightly, Klaus leaned forward and locked his eyes with the administrator, compulsion dripped from his voice, "Dean Shaln, hand me the files pertaining to the woman that was just in your office. As well as the two pertaining to Marnie Taylor and Scott Nebroski."

The Dean's brow furrowed for a moment as he dug into the papers before him, "Of course, Mr. Mikaelson. I have those just here. As I was saying, the art department could use an updated facility -"

"I'm sure." Klaus murmured as he thumbed through the contents for a moment, mildly happy he had won that bet with himself. The other two files had indeed belonged to Nebroski and Taylor, "I'll be taking these with me, and you'll say nary a word about it. Now, what can you tell me about the whereabouts of Ms. Taylor?"

"Ms. Taylor has not been seen in several days." Shaln answered immediately, concerned peaked in his muddled orbs that had Klaus frowning in consternation, "Police are searching for her – she was declared a missing person yesterday evening. Though Detective Williams informed me that the police believe her to be a runaway. Likely taken in by an abuse shelter."

That news, while unsurprising, was thoroughly unhelpful, "Detective Williams, you say?"

"Yes. He's heading the investigation into her disappearance. Her father is very worried for her." Shaln elaborated almost congenially.

"Right..."

What a wild goose chase this was turning out to be? Klaus mused absently, he hadn't had so much trouble tracking down a girl since Katerina had become a vampire herself. Lurking fury simmered in his veins at the stray thought of the Petrova doppelgänger. Forcefully he banished the image of that insipid purveyor of bad fortune and refocused on the new lead to follow. After all, finding Marnie Taylor could potentially be the key he needed to fix the mess that Katerina had created. He would have Maddox speak with the detective and see what he could glean of his case.

"Wait...why am I -?"

Klaus blinked, realizing he had let his compulsion slip as his thoughts meander. Garnering the student files had taken less time than he anticipated – Camille's attack on Nebroski and her subsequent visit to the Dean's office had expedited the process.

He really wished that he had taken more time to speak with her in the lobby. Her weary countenance and thinly veiled frustration had been plain, and he dimly wished that he had been able to bring a true smile to her lips. He was sure he could have wrangled more than a phone call...

"...interested in Marnie Taylor?..."

One he wasn't sure he would receive. Mrs. O'Connell's tepid reminder of a boyfriend had struck a mark. Klaus had caught the fine glint of guilt in Camille's jade irises before he had entered Shaln's office. Despite their flirtations, Camille seemed an honorable person. He doubted that she would take the hint of infidelity well. And from the brittle tension between mother and daughter, he was sure that such an insinuation would have festered more bitingly.

Still...

"Apologies, my mind is elsewhere I shouldn't have let my compulsion slip." Klaus entreated with a sardonic smile.

Shaln frowned, "Compulsion? What?"

"Yes, I am a vampire. Luckily for you, I'm only interested in your information and not your life. Otherwise, you'd be a mere husk on the ground right now, it helps that I need you for a few errands still."

Shaln's eyes grew wide, uncertain if the man across from him was insane or joking. By the almost maniacal glee in Klaus's cerulean gaze, he was leaning toward the former.

"You won't remember this encounter, except that it was simply with a potential benefactor of the university. You'll be developing a new art department soon. Isn't that exciting?" The hybrid continued loftily before a more demur expression crossed his mien. If Shaln hadn't been trapped by compulsion he would have been shaking from fear as he sensed something dangerous in that look.

"Oh...and as for Camille O'Connell, you will take into consideration all you know to be true of her character and of Scott Nebroski's character and admit that the university has failed its female students by letting such a cretin walk its halls. Call another meeting with Mrs. O'Connell to see what amends can be made as you reinstate Camille as a student. You'll agree to any terms set forth... do you understand?"

"Yes." Dean Shaln murmured as Klaus smiled winningly.

"Fantastic. It was a pleasure doing business with you, Dean Shaln." Klaus said genially as he offered his hand.

The dean smiled, almost confusedly as he tried not to wince in pain from the handshake, "Yes...Yes, I quite look forward to the improvements to the art department, Mr. Mikaelson."

"As do I, as do I." Klaus murmured as he swiftly exited the office.

The dean would have to excuse his quick departure. He had files to read, a woman to woo, another to find, and a curse to break after all.

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#Disintegration #Klaus Mikaelson #The Originals #Fanfiction #the orginals fanfiction #Camille O'Connell #klaus x camille #klamille

[saladejin]

Call An Uber? | 02

BTS x Reader | idolverse au, uber driver!Reader, translator!Reader |  Fluff, flirting, super slow burn, angst and hurt/comfort, mature themes and eventual smut 

Summary:  Your normal life with a normal, yet inconsistent job gets drastically changed when your dreams come true. Sounds boring right?

What happens when all of this occurs, but you’re still doing something you love AND getting a large sum for it? Now there’s something to think about, and it’s definitely not what you’re thinking.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.4k

< masterpost >

»»————- <<prev | next >> ————-««            

Bold = English

       "You make it sound like we're gonna die." 

"Yeah well you will, if you don't move your ass." I swung open my door, tugging the mask higher on my face and swishing my (h/c) hair around to cover the rest partially. 

Hopefully any lurking cameras wouldn't sneak a peek of my flustered appearance, because that would be embarrassing in itself. I had worn only the lightest makeup possible today. Of course I didn't want to look like a troll in front of my customers, but now that I was breathing right next to two perfect, ethereal human beings, I suddenly wished I’d made a better effort to impress. 

"Quick!" Jimin's abrupt gasp snapped me out of my thoughtless gazing, and I turned around to see Jungkook walking towards me swiftly. Jimin was already heading inside, but had thrown a worried glance back in my direction when he saw my frozen form on the pavement. I instantly started at the sudden pressure on my lower back and jumped forward when Jungkook's large hand pressed me in that direction. 

"Sorry, but you probably shouldn't touch me if people can see," I murmured and led the way through the sliding doors into the cooled administration room.

Jungkook's tentative hand jerked away as if he had touched a burning hot iron.

The weather had been quite warm outside, but I hadn't taken too much notice because of the exceptional air conditioning of my car. I whipped my head around one last time to blow a tiny kiss to my precious baby parked outside, as it was still new and had already been through an exciting car-chase of sorts. Even copping a harsh slap to the ass in the process. 

I'll be back soon Red. 

I turned back around to see the cheeky maknae giving me an incredulous look with one eyebrow raised. 

"Don't judge me, it's new." 

When Namjoon came to fetch his two younger members, he was definitely far from pleased. As soon as he entered the room all three of us were sitting in, he gave me a quick glance up and down with his expression hardening the closer he looked. Despite his misgivings, the tall man still managed to flash me a strained smile while he dipped his head in a sign of respect. He was truly a kind soul, and I knew he’d probably need to make an initial judgement based off this first look.

The professional demeanour continued as his careful eyes flickered to Jimin and Jungkook. He had already gone through the initial apologies and displays of gratitude as soon as he bowed, but now his expression was disappointed as he beckoned the other two members in the room.

"You two come with me." 

Damn, his leader voice was definitely no joke! I felt myself squirm in my seat, probably from the uncomfortable tension suddenly flooding the room. Namjoon looked as good as ever, silvery grey hair styled in a way that just made me speechless, but his usually calm and thoughtful expression was tired and stressed. 

Poor guy, he must have torn his hair out over this. I hope he doesn't think I'm insane or something.

I knew there was absolutely no way he would trust me completely on the first meeting, but seeing as though his fellow band members had mentioned their situation and fortunate escapade, his gaze seemed softer than it could've been.

Thinking about what could've gone wrong made me shudder, and I pushed the thoughts away as the two boys I had shared a car with for the past half an hour jumped to their feet. I was sad, but I mean who wouldn't be? I had fangirled over them so many times and once I’d actually met them, it seemed quite literally too good to be true.

I knew they couldn't stay though, and when it came down to it, I was most likely viewed as just another fan. Just another fan that they had happened to meet coincidentally, but still nothing too estranged from a fan meeting event where girls from various backgrounds would provide them with gifts and words of encouragement. 

Why would I expect anything different from this? 

I forced down the bile rising in my throat and avoided making eye contact with any of the boys, as I couldn't bear to watch them go. Slipping through my fingers, kind of like the moment you begin to wake up from a dream you longed to replay over and over.

The realisation that they’d halted in their movements took me way too long, but as I snapped up to meet Jungkook's conflicted expression, I suddenly gasped. "Oh, sorry!" 

I tugged off the mask he had graciously lent me and held it out with a shaky hand in the younger boy's direction. His eyes flashed with recognition and even surprise, much to my own confusion. 

"Oh, that...I won't mind if you keep it, I have plenty of others." 

I let out a sharp breath and smiled forlornly. "Creepy, you're giving me your clothes now?"

I laughed softly when he rolled his eyes and dismissed me with a joking wave of his hand, bunny smile flashing. Jimin also couldn't help but grin at the maknae's chivalrous attempt and how it had completely backfired.

Someone cleared their throat deeply and I met the pointed look of Namjoon once more, even though his gaze had settled the tiniest bit at seeing his fellow members act comfortably. 

"(Y/n)-ssi, is it?" 

"Yes, I'm sorry to make you wait so long Kim Namjoon-ssi. You must have been worried sick." I struggled to be as respectful as I could, my eyebrows knitting together in concentration as I spoke. Did I even use the correct honorific? Maybe I should have used something higher because he's the leader of the group. Ah, I don't know! 

A chuckle broke me from the horrifying contemplation, and I flinched slightly as Jimin bent down to enter my line of vision. "Don't worry too hard about all the honorific stuff, Namjoonie-hyung will understand." 

I nodded with a cringe alighting my features, annoyed at my own obvious floundering with their language. I had been in the country for a couple of months, so why couldn't I just get my act together and converse properly? 

"Do...you speak English at all?" Namjoon ventured with a smile that made his dimples pop adorably. I let out a big sigh and ran a hand through my windblown hair while nodding. 

"Yep, I'm from (Y/c). But I do understand Korean fairly well, it's just the honorifics and technicalities that trip me up a bit." 

Jimin and Jungkook groan simultaneously at the revelation that I was fluent in the language they practiced the most, and I couldn't help but smirk. They must have had some suspicion, as I did't exactly look Korean anyway, but there was always the notion that I could have been born to foreign parents and grown up here. 

"I never would have known! Your Korean is still great," Jimin whined lowly and I couldn't help but laugh, the look in my eyes eventually shifting to one of apology. 

"That's fine, it's alright to just use 'ssi' anyway," Namjoon nodded and I relaxed my shoulders in relief. The switch back to Korean was somewhat jarring, but it was only fair that everyone in the room should understand the gist of the conversation. 

"But hyung, she told us she doesn't mind if you don't use them for her," Jungkook was next to pipe up, and I was surprised he even remembered such a thing at this point in time. I just smiled and shook my head in response. 

"I don't mind either way. I'm not fussed at all." 

"Yes, well we should be going anyway." Namjoon cut off the conversation and glanced at his watch, looking back around at everyone in the room. 

"Thankyou (Y/n)-ssi for taking care of our members, something like this shouldn't happen again." 

At the sound of their leader's stern voice, the boys both hung their heads slightly, and I knew that even though the situation had worked out for the best, it definitely was not ideal for this kind of thing to happen when their careers could be put on the line. 

"It's alright, Jungkook's mask is the only thanks I need," I decided to joke so that I can see the younger boys smile again, and I was rewarded with the most beautiful pearly white grins yet. Namjoon chuckled and motioned with one hand for the boys to leave the room before him.

Jungkook turned and threw a small wave and bow in my direction. I returned them, and he finally exited the room with a hefty sigh to let out all of his pent-up stress. Jimin followed with the same gestures and I responded with a faintly sorrowful smile. Ah, what I wouldn’t give to just spend a whole day with them. I was then ultimately left alone with the leader of BTS. To say I wasn’t a tad intimidated would be a lie. 

"Once again, you have truly done us a service. We are glad to have a fan such as yourself supporting us,” Namjoon spoke after a few seconds of silent tension.

"Thank you, you have no idea how much you guys have helped me already, so please don't feel as though you owe me anything," I quietly respond and watch as his eyes cloud with admiration and respect suddenly.

Maybe he regretted acting so robotic and cold when he came in, but he was the leader and professionalism mattered so much when you were faced with a situation that called for big demonstrations of leadership. Namjoon smiled and bowed again, reaching out to shake my hand kindly before leaving the room to join the others. I knew all that was left was meeting the CEO of Bighit Entertainment. 

Yeah, because that's something to just brush over. 

God, so much was happening to me today. How could I possibly go back to streaming endless amounts of videos and fangirling over pictures when I had actually spoken with three members of the band itself? I forced down the niggling thoughts of 'that's only three out of seven' and grunted apprehensively. 

You're lucky enough as it is, don't be greedy. 

The thing is, nothing about my long-distance relationship with the boys was normal anymore, and I wondered if the girls who attended fan-meetings felt exactly the same way. The fact that they were just normal guys with normal thoughts had always crossed my mind when I watched them through the screen, but seeing it in action proved to be disarming at the very least. 

Stupid world-famous idols, don't play with my heart like this.

The meeting and disclaimer signage with Bang PD went well in the end, and I was consistently surprised at how kind-hearted and open he was with everything that had gone down. All the staff I had encountered were nothing short of accommodating, and they were continuously apologising for the mess caused. Even though I had told them many times it was truly a blessing in disguise, they remained insistent on the matter.

"Please, I want you to take this as a token of our gratitude." Bang PD smiled warmly in my direction, and before I could refuse he held out a slip of paper. It was a cheque, and my eyes blew wide when my eyes scanned the tiny bold numbers printed neatly on the surface.

"Please, I can't accept this, I already got paid for my service."

Before the short man could shake his head and insist further, a light knock sounded on the frosted glass pane of the office door before opening. In stepped a young woman who bowed repeatedly for her intrusion, her short night black hair bobbing up and down along with her.

"I'm terribly sorry Bang PD-nim, but the donor from Chile has arrived back at the office ahead of schedule."

The founder of Bighit nodded in understanding, clearing his throat to speed up whatever process was happening. He turned back to me with a reassuring glance and I took a deep breath, fully understanding I wasn't really able to refuse his generous offer.

"Right, well thank you once again for your service, I have other things to attend to it seems. It was lovely to meet you."

The cheque still scorching hot in my left hand not going unnoticed, I forced myself to return his smile with a gulp. He gestured softly for the door and followed me out. The young woman looked quite flustered as she shifted from foot to foot just outside the bleak office entryway.

The building's interior was very modern and clean-cut, and I knew it was probably very, very different from the actual Bighit Entertainment building itself. Seeing as it was meant for living arrangements and not vital meetings such as the one mentioned earlier.

I exchanged formalities with Mr.Bang once more before I turned towards the exit of the dormitory building, my big and exciting day coming to a close just like that.

"I'm sorry, but it seems our Spanish interpreter has called in absent today. I've just been informed that the donor came without one," the hushed whisper from the woman reached my ears as I took a couple of steps towards the large glass doors. I heard a sharp click of a tongue and a deep, masculine sigh from behind me. 

"Well what are we going to do? I don't know enough Spanish for an entire face-to-face meeting like this."

"Does anyone else in the company?" The woman's voice was growing frantic, as she was apparently about to drown in her sudden bout of panic.

Bang PD's tone was irritated. "Why the hell was this not scheduled better?"

I honestly could not blame him. What kind of interpreter would just call in absent on such an important event? Even if the sickness was life-threatening, there were ways to notify and organise something to compensate for it, or give some warning to reschedule.

A small smile stretched my lips as I twirled around on one of my heels happily, once again facing the distraught looking woman and CEO who were deep in hurried conversation.

"If I mentioned that I was fluent in Spanish, would that help?"

             Copyright © 2020 by salade. All rights reserved.   

#btsfanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts #bts scenarios #ot7 #bts angst #bts crack #bts smut #bts imagine #reader insert #kim namjoon #park jimin #kim seokjin #jung hoseok #min yoongi #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #fluff and smut #call an uber? #saladejin

[98shawns]

one to ten. (t.c.)

ten times you love each other. ten out of countless.

words: 2522

warnings: nsfw, language, alcohol consumption

an: lol i know i’m a shawn blog but now this is my white boy blog so i can do what i want!! and timmy literally makes me want to cry he’s so sweet and cute i love him aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!

o1: ritual.

“I love you.” Timothée’s voice is sweet as he smiles into the phrase. It’s a bidding of farewell as he leaves for his morning schedule, but when you turn the corner to see him off, he hadn’t even had the door opened.

Instead he was waiting for you; shoes on, with his hands in his pockets, and a grin on his face. You roll your eyes and walk over to him.

“Have a good day.” Your hands come to his shoulders to pull him into a kiss. His grin widens as you pull away, and he rested his hands on your forearms.

“You too.” He says, sliding a hand to reach yours to give your knuckles a small kiss.

You end up finally chasing him out with a laugh, but he leaves only thinking of you, and how he can’t wait for the end of the day to see you again.

.

o2: remedy.

“I love you.” You whisper the three words like a spell against the shell of Timothée’s ear and he can’t help but sigh. Today was horrible; stress and pressure had built towers upon his shoulders and he wouldn’t let them break down on him. Not in public at least.

He didn’t even take his jacket off when he fell face first into your bed, head landing straight into your lap.

Your fingers left the pages of your book to run through your boyfriend’s chocolate locks. Your heart ached as silence filled the room. You wished that you knew some sort of magic spell to wipe all his problems off the universe; but you couldn’t.

The closest thing to magic you knew how to do for Timothée was leave the bed for a moment to rummage through your dresser for an extra pair of clothes for him to change into. He hadn’t moved an inch when you came back but once he felt your gentle touch on his shoulder, he complied with your silent request to roll over and sit up.

You try to keep a neutral face as you stand between Timothée’s legs to bring him into a hug. You feel him sigh into your chest; where his head rested. His arms wrap around your middle and he gives you a squeeze.

Timothée finally cracks a smile when you pull away from the hug and bring your hands up to his cheeks to kiss his forehead.

He knows how sweet you are; how you wished you had solutions to all his problems, and how you hated that you didn’t. But that was okay with him. Being there to be with him at the end of the day was solution enough.

.

o3: spell.

“I love you,” He chants it desperately between pants against your lips. Almost as if he didn’t remind you every day. I love you. I love you. I love you. Like a spell he’d cast to make you his forever.

You casted the phrase back. I love you too. And gasp when you feel Timothée’s hands travel below the waistband of your shorts.

Two of his nimble fingers found themselves spreading your slit, and you find yourself grinding against his digits to feel some sort of relief.

“I’ve barely done anything and you’re already this wet for me…” He seems unaffected but you were hovering over his lap and felt his growing length pressing against your thigh. All you could do was bury your head into the crook of his head and nod.

The action makes him smirk as two of his digits slide into your core. You squeak and tense up at the sensation, and Timothée’s mouth lovingly finds your neck.

All he can think of is how much he loves this. He loves how sensitive you are. He loves how he knows that it’s so easy to get you riled up just because it was him. He loves how your hips buckle against his fingers when he curls them just how you like it. He loves how your juices drip over his digits and how your whole body shakes when he gets you off with just his fingers alone.

But he eventually wonders if it’s just because he simply loves everything that you do, because he finds you just as lovely as he positions his length at your core once you’d barely ridden out your high.

And when he hears your moans come out breathless and strangled once he moves his hips; he just finds you one thing: lovely.

.

o4: gratitude.

“I love you.” Timothée grins as he whispers it into your ear as you cry at his performance. His hands rub your arms as you try to stop your tears from falling, and you hit his chest as he laughs at you.

“You’re the most talented human alive.” You manage between sniffles and he feels like his smile has never been wider.

You’ve always been his number one supporter, and you were the reason why he loved his job so much. The way he could tell a story and move someone, anyone to tears with his art made him feel honoured.

But he doesn’t tell you that. Not when you were already a crying mess, at least. Instead he gazed at you thoughtfully, replies with a simple “Thank you.”, and wipes your tears away with the pads of his thumbs.

.

o5: calm.

“I love you…” It’s the first thing he says before suggesting that the two of you need to talk your problems out before you go off on a frenzy by accusing him of things that weren’t true. It was a rare occurrence, but useless fights are unavoidable in any relationship.

You try to keep a cool mind but everything felt like it was crashing down at once. Life was testing your boundaries by ruining everything you’ve worked hard for; and you and Timothée both knew that lashing out on him was just an excuse to blow off some steam.

You felt like you’d go insane if you admitted that you were in the wrong. So instead you don’t say anything, and he sighs.

“Please tell me what’s wrong. I can’t help you if you won’t tell me anything.” His eyes aren’t filled with any malice, just worry, and you begin to feel even worse. This wasn’t fair; not for him. You wouldn’t let life ruin the both of you either. Not when there wasn’t any need to.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” You finally admit defeat, and Timothée sighs as he takes this as his cue to run his thumb underneath your eye to wipe away a stray tear. He wraps his arms around you and doesn’t pull away until he feels you do the same, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“Thank you.” His face relaxes. Relief. And you realize how lucky you are to have someone who knew how to be rational.

Somehow, your mind cools.

.

o6: beautiful.

“I love you,” it’s a whimper that falls from your lips as he thrusts into you. His name and other praises of affection leave your mouth; the mouth he loves so much, and he can’t help but bite down onto the skin of your neck as he takes you from behind.

“You’re such a good girl, you like being fucked from behind that much?” He grunts when your walls clench around his cock at his words. His hips rock faster and your voice becomes whinier.

“T-Timmy– I– I’m going to– I–“ Coherent sentences escape your mind and blur with pleasure when Timothée’s nimble fingers find your clit. He knows what you want and you’ve been patient with him. He has every intention of giving you what you're going crazy for.

“Cum for me,” He moans, lips latching onto the side of your neck as his thrusts became sloppier and his fingers moved more urgently.

You cry out as his hips slammed against your ass a few more times, and the knot in your stomach becomes undone. Your upper half collapses onto the bed as Timothée’s movements become slower to help you ride out your high.

But you barely catch your breath when Timothée pulls out and flips you onto your back. His eyes were still dark as he studied your face, with your eyes glazed over and half open, and swollen lips parted while you panted for air.

“You’re so beautiful… I love you so fucking much...” He murmurs to himself more than anyone before giving you what felt like the hundredth kiss than night.

He sucks on your bottom lip as he spreads your legs, and you mentally hit yourself for thinking that Timothée was anywhere close to being done with you for the night.

.

o7: plenty.

“I love you.” It’s said against your ear, but trapped inside your phone. All Timothée could do was frown when you tell him that you love him back in a raspy voice.

The only horrible thing about shooting globally was that he wouldn’t be able to see you for weeks; maybe months on end. He missed important days like birthdays and anniversaries with no mercy from his production crew; but this is what he signed up for so he wouldn’t complain. He loves what he does, after all.

And he’s glad that you understand. You always remind him that you’re just a call away, and he knows you’re right but it still never sits well with him when he can’t hold you in his arms. Especially when you need him most.

But he tries his best, and that’s all you need.

.

o8: care.

“I love you!” Timothée chuckles as you drunkenly pepper kisses onto his face the second he opens the door to welcome you home. He holds you by your waist as you wrap your arms around his neck to bring him into a deep kiss.

He smiles; alcohol from your staff party lingers on your clothes and tongue but he still could only find you that much lovelier. He knew you were an inherently affectionate person since birth, but your shyness always dissipates in beer bottles and tequila shots.

“Hey, you’re really hot. Can we do it?” You pull back and ask breathlessly. It takes him a few moments to process your request, but when he does he’s speechless. All he does is laugh before sweeping the hair falling in your face and cupping your cheeks.

“No. Doing it is a no no if you’re this drunk, but we can get you to bed instead. I swear it will feel equally as amazing.” He suggests, smiling when you pout before dragging you towards your bedroom.

“Well if it’s a no then why’re you taking my clothes off?” You slur your words as Timothée helps you step out of your outfit. You comply when he sits you down at the edge of your bed before pulling out more comfortable clothes for you to sleep in.

“Don’t go to sleep yet,” He laughs when your eyes start drooping right after he helps you into your pyjamas. You barely notice him disappearing into the kitchen until he comes back with a glass of water and an aspirin. You groan when he makes you consume both of them to completion, but he’s indifferent as he tucks you into bed.

“Aren’t you going to kiss me goodnight?” You whisper, still drunk but still somehow so lovely in Timothee’s eyes. He grins and pecks your forehead, cheeks, nose, and eventually lips before whispering a goodnight.

And a final I love you is the last thing you hear when you’re finally lulled off to sleep.

.

o9: tender.

“I love you.” You giggle as Timothée pulls you into him, and the couch sinks as you straddle his lap. He smiles into the kiss he gives you as his hands slide up your thighs.

He’s in the middle of unbuttoning your blouse when he pulls away to stare at you. His eyes turn into crescents as he smiles at you, and you scoff.

“What?” You ask, pushing his curls out of his face. Timothée shrugs before wrapping his arms around your waist.

“You're just... really beautiful, is all.” He says. Almost innocently.

You melt at his words and kiss his forehead. He chuckles and finally slides your shirt off your shoulders before connecting his lips to the crook of your neck.

You squeal as he gently pushes you down onto your back, and before you know it his lips are on yours again, kissing you before slowly pulling away.

“I love you,” He whispers. You stare into his eyes and smile. You believed it more than anything.

.

10: first.

“I love you!” Timothée revels at how much he says it casually nowadays. He says it for simple reasons, like when he wakes up and you’re the first thing he sees, or when you tell him that you’d pick up milk for him before you get home over the phone. There was no real reason as to why he even said it any more other than that he loved you at every moment.

He always smiles to himself when he remembers when the two of you first exchanged the three words. You were the first to break, only one month into your relationship when you were seeing him off after a night in at your apartment.

The two of you agreed to take it slow but when you somehow kissed him goodbye before casually telling him, “Bye, love you.”, he was over the moon. He tried not to make a big deal out of the thoughtless comment, only giving you a wide grin as he gave you one last kiss before leaving.

A text ensued right when he got back to his apartment.

My Baby[00:03]:

Hey! Sorry if that was weird when you left.  I know that we agreed to take it slow but tonight was just so fun, it just kind of slipped out… I hope you weren’t too put off by it. Sorry again.

Back at your apartment, you were banging your head against the wall when he didn’t respond, even twenty minutes later. He was weirded out. You knew it. You just liked him so much… he made you so happy that you couldn’t help yourself.

A knock at your door snapped you out of your self-loathing and you wondered why anyone would do such a thing at 12:30 in the morning. But when you answered, you couldn’t even process when Timothée lunged towards you to give you a kiss. You stumble back but he steadied you by wrapping an arm around your waist.

He pulled back, breathless, and laughed when he saw that your eyes had popped out of their sockets. He brought a hand up to one of your flushed cheeks. He knew you’d be surprised that he came back, but part of him also knew that he had to say it back in person.

“I love you, too.”

#timothee chalamet #timothee x reader #timothee chalamet imagines #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee smut #timothee chalamet smut #timothee imagines #timothee imagine #timothee #timothee fanfic #timothee chalamet fanfic #thimothee fanfiction #timothee chalamet fanfiction #i love himmm aaaaaaaaaaa

[queen-scribbles]

Breather

Oh, look, another @speakergame​ fic for Phillip. It’s only fair, right? Callie has one with Delia and one with Sebastian, so now Phillip has one with Steph and one with Rory. EQUALITY. :P (vaguely spoiler-adjacent, technically, for the end of the last update.)

----

The human body did have its limits, and no amount of dread or determination could overrule them forever. So while rotating drivers meant they didn’t have to stop overnight on their dash back to Nivio, back to people who could help, who would know what was wrong with Stephanie(and, by extension, him), they would have to make brief pauses at a couple rest stops along the way.

They made it an hour or so into Colorado before the first one. While part of Phillip chafed at the delay, the part that desperately needed a breather, needed to stretch his legs kept him from going insane. He and Steph (and Lily) were all too familiar with the importance of not sitting too long, but under the circumstances he almost wished they were pushing “too long” even further than they already had.

So he paced. Rapid, driven figure-eights around a pair of empty weather-beaten picnic tables, occasionally widening to loop a nearby clump of prairie grass. Arms crossed, head... somewhere. There was too much on his mind for a specific chain of thought.

He was so drowning in that too much he almost walked slap-bang into Rory.

She rocked back on one heel with a sound that was almost a yelp to avoid their collision, then grinned. “Okay, much as I would have deserved that, I do come in peace.” She held up a pair of small crinkly orange and white bags. “With snacks.”

One side of his mouth made a brief attempt at a sheepish smile and he raked one hand through his hair. “Sorry. And thanks, but I’m not really hungry.”

Rory shrugged and tucked the bag she’d offered in the pocket of her flannel shirt. “Alright, more for me.” She plunked down on one of the picnic tables, feet braced on the bench seat, and had the other bag tugged open before she paused to look at him. “Unless you wanna be alone with whatever thoughts have you all.... like that.” She swirled a hand in a general encompassing gesture toward him and Phillip couldn’t help huffing a small laugh.

“Nah, you’re fine,” he assured her, voice still hoarse and breaking from the aftermath of Cammore. He’d kill for another good cup of tea.

Rory nodded and fished a pretzel nugget out of the bag. “Okay, 'cause I saw you over here by yourself an’ thought you might want company, but just realized some people like to be alone sometimes, so I don’t wanna intrude if you’re one of those people. ‘Specially with all the shit you have going on right now."

This time he couldn’t stop a full laugh. “I am one of those people, but this is not one of those times. I just needed room to pace. Your- Company’s prob’ly a good thing; distract from the radio static in my head.”

She wrinkled her nose sympathetically and tossed the pretzel nugget in the air, leaning sideways to catch it in her mouth. “Well, then, I’m happy to distract you, Phillip.”

He liked the way she said his name, barely managed to keep from saying so in his frazzled, sleep-deprived state. “Thanks."

Rory studied him as he paced and she chewed. “I’d say you can take a seat, but after all that time in a car, you probably wanna stretch those long legs, huh?”

“Yeah.” Especially with Lily driving and Sebastian up front again; he’d been squished in one of the back end seats with Steph practically in his lap. Not a bad thing, given the circumstances, but still very cramped. (He decided not to overthink long legs. His height was pretty obvious and he’d already blushed far too much around this woman to be reading extra meaning into things she said. Even if she did think it was cute.)

Despite the mention of distraction, neither of them spoke through his next couple figure eights. Rory made a good show of catching the pretzel nuggets each time she flicked one in the air. Phillip’s pacing showed as he watched.

“See something you like?” Rory teased when she caught him and his ears started burning immediately.

“No- I mean, that’s not...” Phillip groaned and suppressed the urge to yank his jacket’s hood up over his face. “You’re good at that” --a nod toward the snack bag--”and I-I’m impressed.”

“With my snack-catching skills?” She grinned. “Fitting, I guess, huh? Considering the whole.... were-something thing..”

He laughed. “Hadn’t thought of that.”

Rory cocked her head, fiddling with the next pretzel nugget a moment before tossing it up. “Whatever it is, I hope it’s something cool.” She flicked the pretzel nugget up and leaned forward to catch it.

Phillip shrugged. “I think it’s cool in general, whatever your animal form winds up being.” He didn’t mention the year in elementary school he’d spent wishing he was a werecat instead of a Speaker. They hadn’t known each other quite long enough for that. Yet.

“Aw, you’re sweet,” she said with a light laugh. “So. How ‘bout you?” She picked out another pretzel.  “How’re your snack catching skills?”

“I do alright,” he said, a brief smile tugging his lips. “Better’n my sister, anyway.”

Rory’s grin widened and she patted the table next to her. “Lemme see.”

Phillip only hesitated the barest second before taking her up on the playful challenge. He sat next to her--closer than he normally would have to avoid what looked like bird droppings--and took the bag of snacks she passed him.

The first one he caught. Second one bounced off his nose but did go in his mouth. Third one he missed because Rory was giggling about the second one.

The fourth one he leaned so far back to catch she had to grab his arm to keep him from falling off the table. The fifth one, at least, was a clean catch that allowed him to reclaim some of his dignity.

“See?” Phillip mumbled around the mouthful of pretzel and cheese.  “I’m okay, but not as good as you.”

“Mmhm,” Rory laughed as she balled up her snack bag and tucked it in her pocket. “I did see.”

Phillip half-smiled in answer to the twinkle in her hazel eyes, rubbing the back of his neck. He wished this could just be what it looked like; sitting on a rest stop picnic table with a pretty girl, goofing off with snack food and not minding how silly they looked. But his throat was still sore and he could see Rory’s scars and couldn’t quite forget the shaken, pissed look in Steph’s, or that Lily didn’t know what was going on.

The distraction had been nice while it lasted.

“Thanks,” he said softly, fishing out another pretzel and eating it normally. 

“Don’t mention it.” Rory raked a hand through her hair, curls tumbling even more helter-skelter behind the motion. She nudged his knee with her own. “Least I can do after how much you’ve all helped me.”

Phillip opened his mouth to protest, but just then Samson trotted over and stuck his head against the hand not holding a mostly empty bag of pretzels. Phillip’s first instinct was something happened to Stephanie, but a quick glance showed her in conversation with Sebastian and Az and seemingly just fine. (Considering) So he scritched Samson’s ears instead as he commented to Rory, “You say that like you haven’t done anything else to help.” 

“Well, you did save my life and all,” she said with a shrug. “And I gotta wonder what the dreaming about you thing means, so call it curiosity coupled with gratitude.”

“Just don’t want you thinking you owe us or anything...” His voice started cracking again and he let the end trail off.

Rory flashed him a sympathetic smile. “Maybe you should hold off on the talking?”

“Leave it all to you?” Phillip asked hoarsely, glad the playful intent still carried in the words.

“Well, I am good at it,” she laughed. 

He nodded and smiled and scratched under Samson’s chin, watching black wisps drift off the dog’s rapidly wagging tail. 

They lapsed into silence a moment before Rory started humming. Phillip cocked his head a few bars in, vaguely recognizing the tune.

“That’s a song,” he mumbled, more to Samson than Rory, but she still paused.

“Uh-huh.”

Way to state the obvious, his thoughts jibed. “No, I mean, I know it, but don’t remember from where...” His hand stilled on Samson’s neck a moment later. “Cammore. When...” I was screaming myself hoarse. “You sang it while you were sitting with me.”

Rory’s brows arched and she leaned forward to brace her forearms against her knees. “Wow, yeah. You heard that?”

“Not... really?” Phillip said slowly. “It’s more an... impression than a memory, if that makes sense? Like, I don’t remember the words or anything but the melody’s familiar?”

She nodded and grinned. “Oh, good, I don’t have to worry about my singing voice scaring you off.”

“That wouldn’t be a risk anyway,” he mumbled, not realizing it had been out loud until her grin widened.

“Charmer,” she winked. “But yeah, you’d been screaming and I'd been babbling and sorta... ran out of things to say for a minute, and it seemed like a good idea?”

“What song was it?” Phillip resumed petting Samson at an irritated wuff(which came from behind him rather than by his knee).

“Welsh lullaby,” Rory said. She ran a hand through her hair again. “I dunno, a lullaby seemed fitting, somehow.”

“Well, if I heard it enough for it to make an impression, seems like it helped.”

“Good point.”

He hesitated a moment before asking, “Could you teach me?”

“What, the lullaby?”

“Yes, and, um, Welsh in general, too?”

She shrugged. “Dunno how good a teacher I’ll be, but we can give it a shot.” A teasing grin split her face, crinkling scars and freckles alike. “Do you actually wanna learn, or is this a way of spending time with me? ‘Cause you don’t need an excuse for that.”

“...Both?” God, he’d love to blame the way the word squeaked on his half-gone voice, but from the heat climbing his neck, that was no more than partly to blame.

Rory bit her lip, graciously holding back whatever remark had sprung to mind, and tugged one of her curls. “Your honesty is appreciated. So, you like languages? Not many people out there with a burning desire to learning Welsh for the heck of it. "

Phillip nodded, clearing his throat. “Yeah. Aside from English I only speak Russian and maybe a smattering of Spanish and Latin, but I’ve been wanting to learn another for a while.”

“Russian?” She arched a brow.

He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s a long story.”

“Ah. Well, it looks like it’s one you’ll have to tell me back in your town.” Rory craned her neck to look toward where the others were all congregating in the direction of the cars and her motorcycle. “Seems the break’s over.” She squeezed his knee as she pushed to her feet and hopped down. “C’mon, Prince Charming, time to hit the road.”

Right. The road back to Nivio. To figure out what the hell was going on.

She’d done a very good job distracting him from that. It was blessing enough he wouldn’t question the nickname. (yet.) But reality could only be ignored or avoided for so long, and in this case especially there could be serious consequences for pushing it too far.

So Phillip climbed down from the table with a sigh and whistled for Samson to follow as he headed back to his car. It was his turn to drive, and he didn’t want to waste any time.

There was one last pretzel nugget in the bag when he went to crumple it, and he pulled it out to eat before throwing the bag away. No point wasting and besides--he waved at Rory as her bike purred to life--every little bit helped.

(He didn’t just mean the snacks.)

#queens fic #speaker #phillip prince #rory kane #phillip/rory #god he's such a dork #i love him #rory's super fun to write y'all #now cue the ''hope i got her right'' anxiety that always hits with friend's characters xD #speaker game

[snowbellewells]

CS January Joy Day 30: “Save Me the Last Dance”

(Apologies for the confusion to anyone who saw this fic posted a couple days ago. I was accidentally early and on the wrong day, so I took it down and am reposting now.  Hope you will enjoy!!)

I have had this basic idea floating around in my head for a long time, and almost psyched myself out of it. Since I had wanted to do it for so long, it was like I forgot how I wanted to go about it (if that even makes any sense!) I had the lyrics of the oldies song “Save the Last Dance for Me”  (and probably repeated viewings of “The Wedding Date” too! ;) spark the actual idea, and then that line of Killian’s (“Go on, charm your princes…”) so I simply needed to fill in the rest around that imagined scene.  Thanks so much to @csjanuaryjoy for giving me the chance to finally get this done by focusing on something fun and a little spicy, but most of all - happy and free of angst.  

***This takes place in some post- Season 6 world where they all returned to the Enchanted Forest, as I had always hoped they would do at the show’s end...

She knew exactly what she was doing, of that he was certain. Killian felt his tongue slip out to graze his bottom lip hungrily as he watched his love work the room, unable to tear his eyes away. ‘The saucy minx,’ his subconscious chuckled while he shook his head at his own body’s helpless reaction to his princess wife - even after nearly six years of marriage. Emma Swan - well, Emma Jones - was truly a marvel; that fact had never once changed, from the very first day he had laid eyes upon her in the charred and smoking remains of a refuge camp, all the way up to the present moment as she smiled and curtsied in her formal gown and jewelled tiara.

It was clear to Killian that she would never cease to take his breath away - and the quick, smug glance she cut at him from the corner of her eye, while the foreign dignitary from Agrabah she was greeting with all proper pomp and polite reserve was bowing to her, told him that she knew it as well. Though Emma might still be that “tough lass” he’d taken her for as they climbed the giant’s beanstalk, when she still didn’t trust him and made a formidable adversary cloaked in distrust and suspicion as much as her denim and leather, Killian also got to experience the softness and warmth beneath her armor, more so than he’d really had a right to hope for at the outset.  After half a decade of marriage, he was privy to the perfect way her body fit in his embrace, how she rubbed the chilly tip of her nose in the hollow of his throat as she fought against waking in the morning, and the sensual slide of her skin, the softest and most enflaming sensation he had ever encountered, against his own. Yes, Killian knew all those parts of her well, and hoarded each one as the finest treasure, the way any good pirate would. And because he knew her mind and her secrets, he also knew when she was teasing him - as she was doing just then.

Ostensibly, Princess Emma had every reason not to come immediately stand beside him and enjoy his sole companionship. Some three years prior, her family - and most of the inhabitants of Storybrooke - had chosen to return to the Enchanted Forest, their true home and intended birthright, feeling the responsibility to heal and repair their land and set it to rights could no longer be ignored. It had taken hard work and time, not to mention much diplomacy and negotiation, to see the renewal of Misthaven to full prominence and strength, the way it had been once upon a time, but as this celebratory ball commemorated, their homeland was once more taking its place as a center of government and commerce worthy of note. The turnout of their numerous foreign allies and partners for this occasion proved it even more definitively. As the crown princess, it was Emma’s duty to greet the visiting nobles and gathered emissaries, to listen and make them feel welcome. However, though his Swan cared deeply for her country and her people, she was not one to linger in meaningless pandering and conversation when she could avoid it. Normally she would have made short work of the rounds that were necessary, but he could tell she was set on tormenting him, determined to keep her distance for the sake of driving him slowly insane with need.

The vision of her in the red dress she wore - off the shoulders with fluttering cap sleeves, but fitted all the way throughout the bodice and over her hips to the knees where it flared out in what was called a mermaid skirt (though he knew that term would make Ariel’s brow crinkle in consternation and perplexity if she heard it). The shimmering gown was bright red, and reminded him vividly of the vision she had been at the first ball they ever attended together, the first time they had danced, when he couldn’t have imagined just how much they would come to mean to each other. His mouth went suddenly dry as she leaned over to speak playfully with the diplomat’s young daughter, and deliberately gave him a look down the fitted bodice that no one else would catch. She could tell exactly what it did to him, if the wink she sent his way was any indication.

Finally, the crowd waiting to speak with the princess thinned, and he saw Emma’s mother shoo her toward the dance floor as if releasing her from official duty. It might actually be only a short respite; they couldn’t afford to snub or neglect any of those who had gathered in gratitude after all. He also knew Emma well enough to understand that though she might look as graceful as her namesake avian creature, she would never choose to unwind or cut loose while dressed up in heels and finery, doing proper ballroom dances in front of so many watching eyes. She was more inclined to curl up in her beloved hoodies and sweats or go out sailing with him when she truly wished to feel at ease.

Regardless, he would take the chance to cut which was being placed before him. Sliding over to stand before her, Killian raised his brow at Emma as she drew in a sharp breath of surprise at his sudden appearance, and how close he pressed to her before holding out his hand and hook to pull her into a familiar waltz. Still, there was nothing simple or understated about the scorching look her offered her, making certain she felt the heat simmering from his every pore, the sheer desire burning within his eyes, even as his hand played over her back and his hook brushed an escaped golden tentril of her hair off her forehead before trailing along her collarbone, cool against her rapidly warming skin.

The smirk that crossed his face at the gasp escaping his Savior’s painted lips was as taunting and rakish as any he had ever worn in his most daring years of piracy. Leaning nearer still, he could practically feel Emma’s heart hammering, so rapidly that he feared a moment for it beating out of her chest. She clutched the open collar of his shirt, thumb rubbing through the coarse chest hair she loved, just barely peeping out and giving a hint at the rapscallion beneath his respectable garb.

Before he could think to rein in the impulse that took him over, Killian darted forward to nip at the lobe of her delicate ear, tongue playing briefly with the dangling pearl drop of her earring until a quiet little whimper escaped her for him alone to hear, even as they mostly looked to be dancing sedately to anyone else’s eyes.

Pulling back slightly to search his face, Emma’s expression clearly asked her husband what he was doing, and Killian leaned in to whisper at her cheek, his stubble abrading her pale, flawless skin, his voice a low, seductive rumble. “Oh Princess… you’ve been playing quite the dangerous game.”

“Me?” she whispered breathlessly, attempting to feign innocence though her voice was  light and thready, and he could see a shiver run through her.

“Oh yes, Love,” he nodded, a wicked smile stretching across his devilishly handsome features as he pressed her. “You know just what you’ve been doing to me all night. I’m onto you, Wife.”

Emma smirked back at him now, sliding into the playful banter that had been a part of their relationship almost from its very beginning. “Is that so?  And what am I doing, Husband?” she shot back in jesting challenge.

“Driving me wild,” he growled into the sensitive curve of her neck and shoulder, making her flinch away and flush all the way up to the roots of her golden curls and down until it disappeared into the corset of her dress.

They continued to dance, though they moved closer to the edge of the large marbled palace floor and away from the many other couples. Their steps also slowed as they rotated in smaller circles - more and more caught up in each other.

Killian had her right where he wanted as he murmured for Emma’s hearing alone. “You may have your fun being the perfect royal for now, Darling. Charm your princes and bewitch your knights.  Laugh and dance and make nice, enchant them all… but don’t forget who will take you home when the night is over. Then you’re mine… and you won’t be so proper.”

His eyes glimmered with blue fire as those words sunk in, and Emma’s chest visibly seemed to heave across the tightly cinched corset in a struggle to draw breath once he had stolen it. Killian licked his lips salaciously, holding her in his stare, and Emma nearly tripped, her knees went so weak. If she hadn’t already been clutching him tightly, she would have fallen in a puddle at his feet.

It seemed the Princess of Misthaven deemed her duties that night fulfilled after all, as it was not much longer before she and her pirate consort husband disappeared for the evening - no doubt saving the very last intimate dance for each other alone.

Tagging a few who may enjoy: @kmomof4​ @jennjenn615​ @searchingwardrobes​ @let-it-raines​ @shireness-says​ @tiganasummertree​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @spartanguard​ @effulgentcolors​ @branlovestowrite​ @lfh1226-linda​ @thislassishooked​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @hollyethecurious​ @winterbaby89​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @gingerchangeling​ @thisonesatellite​ @teamhook​ @revanmeetra87​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ 

#csjj2020 #cs januaryjoy #day 30 #cs enchanted forest ff #cs oneshot #save me the last dance

[fbdo1986]

idk the only fbdo prompt i can think of is cameron falls asleep on the couch so ferris and sloane have a contest to see how much random shit they can put on him before he wakes up. Besides that, the way you wrote cam & sloane’s 1st kiss was very good, how bout writing ferris and cam’s 1st kiss? Unless that’s gonna be in ur new fic of course. Anyway, i’ll be back if i can think of cuter prompts

yo anon… you’re the best!!!! how about i write both???!! it’s hard for me sometimes to write ferris/cam and i have no idea why?? but i’ll do it for you anon! and honestly i’m not too sure if my fic is gonna involve any kissing tbh! i kinda foster ideas as i go

okay! since i am incapable of putting this one in the same timeline of my sloane/cam fic heres one that goes post the fic im working on, which is an interpretation of that fateful day off! (it’s probably a few days after or so)

warning: slight mention of ab*se bc like. cameron’s dad exists

ALSO SORRY THIS IS SO FUCKING LONG I GOT CARRIED AWAY!

Cameron narrowly escapes to his room, his hands shakily pressing the button to dial up the Bueller residence. He was high of pure adrenaline, and unfortunately, fear. The spiel about how ‘he wouldn’t be pushed around any longer, and seriously doesn’t a teenager deserve to have a life of his own? and how he’s done nothing except nearly exhaust himself to make the man proud and he doesn’t even notice!?’ actually takes old Morris Frye by surprise, and in a good way. He ruffles Cameron’s hair and goes on about how for the longest time he’s been waiting for his son to become a man, and how maybe, he’s proud of Cam. That is, until he realizes Cameron’s mentioned the car. Then all bets are off. It starts with a loud bellowing yell and Cameron can sense it’s only gonna escalate from here. Quickly, Morris is inching his way closer to Cameron and even though Cam is giving an explanation as quickly as words can exit his mouth to try and derail his father, it’s no use for the man who loves his car more than his own family. The man is seeing red, the red of that precious 1961 Ferrari 250 GT California that tumbled to its death from the garage. And Cameron needs to get out of there before he gets any closer. 

So he makes it to his bedroom, and the immediate response is Ferris. There’s no one who can save him like the boy who can get out of trouble in any situation. The line rings and he hears the familiar, moody hello of Jeanie Bueller. “Hey, it’s Cameron. Can you put Ferris on, please?” His voice wavers, and Jeanie immediately understands. Cameron won’t lose it, not like how he used to, but these things build up. 

“Ferris! It’s Cameron!” Jeanie yells, and Mrs. Bueller asks if everything’s alright. Jeanie keeps silent, letting Ferris spill if he decides to.

Ferris has something inside of him that is fine tuned to discussions of Cameron or Sloane. This shout isn’t typical Jeanie tone, and immediate sirens begin to blare in his ears. From across the house he’s at the phone in the hall, immediately replacing Jeanie at the line. “Hey, what’s up?” He keeps his voice light. Maybe it’s nothing. 

“Fer, I need an out. My old man is gonna kill me for this car. I mean it. He’ll find a way to give me hell. If it was his way I’d never come back.” He lets out a breath he doesn’t know he’s holding in. “Please.”

At this point, Ferris has nearly bitten the inside of his cheek raw. He suddenly regrets all the things he’s ever done to put Cameron at risk of being hurt by his old man. Sure, he did think taking the car out was good for Cameron—he always wished Cameron could loosen up and fully enjoy what good things happened to him—but he could’ve never imagined the state it’d be in by the end of the day. He meant it when he said he’d take the heat for this, and he still does. It kills him to know his foolishness could cost Cameron harm. Ever since Ferris Bueller understood just how horrible things get in Cameron’s house he immediately knew he’d always be there for him. It takes a little longer to realize the reverse is true, that he’d be complete and utterly lost without Cameron, and that he needs him to stay sane. He won’t let that show in his words or his tone. He’s gotta be strong right now because that is what Cameron needs.

“Yeah, of course. I’ll get you out of there.” He covers the receiver. “Jeanie, can I use your car?” A silent nod of understanding from his sister. Mrs. Bueller is insisting to take care of it, she’s always liked Cameron, but Ferris wants it all under his control. “I’ll be there soon, alright?” He asks Cameron, hoping he doesn’t know that he’s keeping his voice from shaking. At least he can’t see his hands.

A deep breath. “Thank you, Ferris. Seriously. You don’t understand how much I appreciate this.” Cameron always knows that Ferris is and always will be there for him, but he’s always grateful when he steps up for things like this. 

Like lightning after Jeanie gives him the keys, Ferris races out of his house and hops into his sister’s car. Ferris is thankful for his driver’s license despite his absence of a car. And he’s thankful for Jeanie at this moment, too. And most importantly, for Cameron. He fights every urge to completely speed over there, since he’d never forgive himself for getting a speeding ticket on the way to his best friend’s house. When he gets to Cameron’s he makes his way to Cameron’s window. He’s willing to risk heat from Morris for sneaking Cameron out, and if the man even thinks he’s getting at Cameron for this he’s sorely mistaken. Has Ferris ever fought anyone? Absolutely not, but Morris Frye deserves to have a taste of his own medicine for once in his life. Ferris raps on the window as quietly as he can, his eyes lighting up immediately when Cameron turns to face him. 

Cameron fights a loud, enthusiastic expression of gratitude, but his sentiments remain. “G-d bless Ferris Bueller.” Ferris simply grins. But his eyes widen with concern when he remembers why he’s here. “Wait, Cam. Are you hurt? Did that son of a bitch—” Ferris can’t stop himself from grabbing at Cameron’s arms and getting a bit too close to look at his face.

Cameron chuckles, swatting him away. “I’m fine, Fer. Quit breathing on me. But seriously, I’m alright.” He looks at Ferris, the absolute goof of a best friend right in front of him. Despite his cool exterior, he really does wear his heart on his sleeve. He’s thankful that all those threats that he’d find a new best friend were never serious. Cameron almost embraces him. Almost. He settles for a shared smile. 

“Okay, let’s get the hell out of here.” Ferris rocks back onto his heels and Cameron swiftly stands up from his bed. They get out through the window and shut it tight. 

The ride to Ferris’s is awkward. Ferris wants nothing more than to crack a joke and relieve this tension, but he doesn’t want to disrespect what’s just happened to Cameron. The radio is on low, playing the current hits. When they reach the Bueller’s Cameron is bombarded with concerned but sweet proddings from Mrs. Bueller and a comforting look from Jeanie. Cameron feels a bit lighter already, but he only feels like he can fully breathe once they’re in Ferris’ room. The Cars are softly playing from Ferris’s stereo while Cameron flops directly onto the bed and Ferris sits next to him. 

“Jesus Christ.” Cameron’s voice is muffled against the comforter, and he slowly turns to face up and look at the ceiling. “I hate this. I can’t believe I have to run away to solve my problems.”

“To be fair, you’re not running away. You’re literally 10 miles away from your house. Plus, I helped you escape.” Ferris leans back on his palms and looks at the ceiling too. “Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t done it sooner. I wouldn’t last a day there. I don’t know how you do it. Fuck what Morris says, Cam, you’re the bravest man I know.” He breathes out a sigh and wishes he could say more. 

Cameron shifts and turns to Ferris for a moment. “No way, man. That’s you.” They exchange a glance. Despite being friends for seven years, words like these don’t get shared often between them. “Thank you. Again. Not even just for this, Fer.” He looks at Ferris intensely. “My life outside of that house is what it is because of you. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” 

Ferris averts his gaze, but a smile plays on his lips for a moment. He pauses and draws out the phrase, “You, my love, are worth it all.” 

Cameron’s face is immediately drowned in heat. He doesn’t know why this is so significant but all he feels is his heartbeat in his throat and he can’t help but sit up, dumbfounded. He looks at Ferris and there’s nothing that can convince him the boy was joking. Ferris, inversely, however, is turning pale. 

“What?” That’s all that escapes Cameron’s mouth, but it’s not upset or repulsed. Only curious. 

“Look, Cam, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it and it just slipped out and you’re just great, okay? That’s it. You’re just great, the problem is how great you are.” The words slip out so fast Cameron is just barely hanging on. 

“I’m what?”

“You’re fantastic. You’re everything I could ask in a friend and more and I’ve just been thinking it over for a few days and I’m so sorry I ever jeopardized your safety. I need you and all of this wouldn’t even matter if it wasn’t for you, Cameron.” His eyes, deep with worry and passion all at once meet Cameron’s. And without a second thought Ferris’s hands are cupping his face and he presses a kiss into Cameron’s lips. Cameron’s caught off guard, insanely surprised, but as his heartbeat slows he can hear Ferris’s breath in an exhale and Cameron presses a kiss back into Ferris. Cameron smiles and after a moment Ferris parts from the kiss and looks up at his best friend. 

“Didn’t mean shit, Bueller.” Cameron laughs and all of a sudden the light is back in Ferris’s eyes and Ferris can’t think of anything to do but tackle Cameron in a hug. It knocks Cameron’s lanky frame over, but they just lay there and continue to laugh.

#idk why the format of this looks weird while im posting hopefully its fine #IM SORRY THIS IS SO LONG I LITERALLY COULD POST THIS AS A FIC #also ofc this is ferris/cam based but yall know id die for the ot3 and i didnt wanna bring sloane in to complicate the plot #BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY!!!! #ferris bueller's day off #cameron frye #my writing #ferris bueller #ferris bueller’s day off fanfiction #ferris bueller’s day off fanfic

[sincerelymarinette]

A Recorded Life - Miraculous Ladybug (1/50)

Words: 1493 Summary: Marinette Dupain-Cheng and her friends are in their final year of Lycee (High School), and they are all 18 years old. Marinette has a very busy life between trying to graduate from school, help in her parent's bakery, and protect France. On top of it all, she is also a very popular YouTuber who creates fashion videos and vlogs. As her popularity increases, she has more to deal with, including how her fans react to everything in her recorded life. Author’s Note: omg. I had this idea from a headcanon I created a few months back and I haven’t really stopped thinking about it. I also didn’t really think I was ever going to post it, but why not give it a shot to see if people like it. This is the first part, so it is really a big introduction to how everything works in this lil AU. If I post more, it does get less introductory and becomes more of a story haha. I have a few more parts written, but it is nowhere near done! Let me know if you would like to see more :)

Will also be posted on Ao3 and Wattpad within the next few days, depending on timing.

NOTE: Canon from season 3 does not apply in this story unless stated otherwise, as this is being written at the time of season 3 being released.

NOTE 2: the chapters are mostly titled like YouTube videos would be. Except for the chapters where a video is not recorded/talked about, so if they look weird, they're supposed to look like YouTube titles!

Next

Are We More Like Ladybug or Chat Noir?

---

"Hey guys, I'm Marinette!" She began the video. "And welcome back to my second channel. You may notice the person sitting next to me..." Marinette gestured. "Alya's back. Like she is in almost every video over here."

Alya smiled and waved. "Hey, guys! Guess what I convinced her to do today," Alya winked. "Well, you probably read the title. We're quizzing to see if we're more like Ladybug or Chat Noir."

"Which I don't totally understand because do we actually know them?" Marinette asked, hoping she wouldn't get Ladybug.

Alya rolled her eyes. "So, if you're from a different country, or have never seen the news, or never even watched a video without me in it, Ladybug and Chat Noir are the superheroes and protectors of Paris. They protect us from the villain Hawkmoth, trying to collect their powers and take over the world. Or something. We only know he wants their powers, we don't know why," Alya shrugged. "But forget about Hawkmoth! Let's take the quiz."

Marinette giggled at her excitement. "Alya runs a blog that follows all things Ladybug and Chat Noir. I'll leave a link on her face, and in the description," Marinette reminded. "First question?"

"When confronted with an Akuma, what do you do? Punch it without a second thought, run away screaming, come up with a plan, or make a pun?" Alya asked. "Wait, I can't tell which one would be Chat Noir?"

Marinette glared at the camera. "He would make a pun," She said, getting a confused look from Alya. "Remember when I had to work with him for the Evillistrator? And when he ran up to me after Puppeteer turned you back into Lady Wifi? Oh my god, the puns!" She groaned. "I would probably," Marinette stopped for a second. She didn't know if she should tell her initial instinct, or try to stay away from the Ladybug answers. "Probably run away screaming."

Alya cocked an eyebrow. "You'd probably come up with a plan to take the Akuma out, Mari, be honest here," Alya said and clicked the one she didn't choose.

"Now, if your best friend was in danger, would you: let someone else save them, find a way to save them yourself, record it for the internet- okay, that one would probably be me if it were anyone but you- call for help, or work with your partner to get them out," Alya asked. "Speaking of, where were you when the Pharaoh tried to sacrifice me to the Egyptian gods?"

Marinette's jaw dropped. "Hey! I told you, I got caught in a time slow bubble. It was terrible!" Marinette defended herself, but little did she know she actually did save her best friend. "Considering Nino would probably be there too, since you really only get in danger when tracking down Ladybug and Chat Noir, we would have to work together to save you,"

"That's fair."

The questions continued and Alya kept calling Marinette out whenever she answered incorrectly. "You got Ladybug; I knew you were more like her!" Alya said.

"Why do you say that? I'm clumsy, and stutter sometimes, and I'm just not like her," Marinette shrugged. "I'm not even like Chat Noir. His confidence is insane, and I'm nowhere near that."

Alya put the phone down. "Girl, you sell yourself short. You're the class president; you stand up for people, you're creative. Those all sound like Ladybug things, don't they?" She raised her eyebrow. "I think that's all we have for today, right, Mari?"

"Yeah, thanks for watching! Other social media and information in the description, see you in the next video!" Marinette ended the video.

She edited out the part where Alya gave her reasons why she was like Ladybug. She cut it off at "Girl; you sell yourself short." Marinette watched the video she was editing for what the hold have been the fiftieth time, to make everything was done right or wasn't dull, but she had to postpone the editing. She set her main channel video to upload, and transformed into her alter ego to meet Chat Noir.

Marinette had a small, contained YouTube channel for a few years. It was popular, thanks to her incredible talent and young age, people enjoyed watching!

"Hey, Chat," Ladybug called when she saw him on the roof, sitting down and laughing. Even though they had been partners for two years, and now older, she still got a little nervous when starting patrol.

"Hey, Bug!" Chat Noir said. "You know Marinette, right? That girl you had me watch over because of an Akuma about a year ago?"

Ladybug nodded. "Yeah...why?"

"She has the best YouTube channel."

Marinette was flattered, but also confused. Chat Noir watched her YouTube? "She's...pretty cool," Ladybug walked closer and sat next to him. "I didn't think you would be one to be interested in a designer."

"Oh yeah, she's so talented! And her videos are great. I love watching the sped up designs and watching them all come together," He gushed. "But her second channel is just as good. It's more relaxed, and I guess you could say her main channel is the more professional side, but the second channel is where she does a bunch of videos with her friends. And look at this one!" Chat Noir showed her his baton, which was somehow connected to YouTube. Marinette recognized the video, as it was one of her most popular. It was the video Nino suggested when he asked "What's in your sketchbook? I've never seen everything, and I'm really curious."

And of course, Alya thought it would make for a perfect video.

Alya was behind the camera when Marinette recorded it, making some comments that would add to the comedic point. "Look, she said this one was inspired by me!" He paused the video and pointed to the design Marinette spent way longer on than she'd admit.

"That's awesome, Chat!" Ladybug said, a smile plastered on her face. She only wished she could thank him formally for all this gratitude, but she couldn't reveal herself. "When I see her next, I'll relay your love."

A smile flashed across Chat Noir's face, and he closed his baton. "Don't worry, milady, my heart beats for only you."

"Charming," She smirked. "Let's go; I've got a thing to do after patrol!" She said and swung her yo-yo. Chat Noir chuckled, but followed anyway.

---

Marinette edited her video until she was sure it was perfect. Even if it was for her second, less popular channel, she wasn't going to put out less than quality content.

Since she got home at nearly midnight after patrol, and edited for an hour and a half, she was exhausted.

Marinette, about to fall asleep at her computer (which she has done before), clicked the YouTube shortcut and set her video to process (and hopefully upload) while she slept.

She was expecting to wake up to her alarm, or the sun hitting her eyes, or her mom yelling that she was late for school. Instead, Tikki was screaming and jumping in an attempt to get her up.

"Something's outside!" She said, pointing to the window. Marinette was hoping it would be morning, but it was still dark.

"Shh," She told the Kwami and slowly got out of bed. Marinette peaked out of the window, not seeing anything. Deciding it was safe, she walked up the ladder and opened the hatch. "Is someone out here?"

It was cold, and Marinette was only in her pajamas, so she wrapped her arms around herself to try to warm up. "I swear...if she woke me up because it was wind, or a bird-" Marinette stopped her mumbling when she heard something move. "Hello? Please, it's too late for this. I'm too tired to kick ass-"

"Please don't call the cops," The black figure landed in front of her.

"Chat Noir? It's the middle of the night! What are you doing here?" Marinette whisper yelled.

Chat Noir looked down at the ground. "I was patrolling with Ladybug about an hour ago, and I didn't want to go home, so I was just walking. I saw something strange in the window and decided to take a look. It was bright red and seemed to be glowing- I thought it was something that wanted to-"

"It was probably just my...cat," Marinette said. "Yeah, he heard something outside and nudged me. His collar is red and reflects some of the lights I have in my room so it wouldn't surprise me if that's what you saw," Marinette nodded, hoping her lie would go unnoticed.

Chat Noir nodded and stepped up to the ledge. "Well, as long as you're safe," He said. "I should be off," He got ready to jump away. "Oh, I don't know if Ladybug told you, Marinette, but I love your videos," He flashed a smile and jumped away.

"Thank you!" She called after him, unsure of if he heard her.

---

Let me know if you would like to see the second part!

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfic #ml #mlb #fanfic #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #alya cesaire #Nino lahiffe #ladybug #chat noir #fanfcition #lilly writes

[writing-frenzy]

Wuxia/Xianxia/Xuanhuan BL story ideas for anyone who wants them.

This is basically a dumping place for the said genres, because after reading so many, I just couldn’t help but think them up, even if I will never write them. But others might like them, so I thought why not? (though if anyone ever does write something, or has seen anything similar elsewhere, please tell me so I can read them.)

Warning: ideas got long, and some themes maybe sensitive: ie: Violence, Murder, Child abandonment, fighting, torture all that good stuff you find in these genres 

First Idea: the things a Good Teacher can alter

So, basically, MC was a guy from our world, who ended up dying and being reborn into another one... centuries before a certain book he read even takes place. Needless to say, he doesn’t remember it. (after all, one can only read about so many stallion protags and their harem fun times before they all kind of bleed together into one mash up.)  

But on the other hand, being able to literally do magic and all is still very much a thing he would like, so why the hell not become a cultivator? So he joins a sect, manages to pass it’s entrance trial by the grit of his teeth and becomes an outer disciple of one of the Peak Lords, learning all he needs to from his senior brothers and sisters. Everything should be great, right? 

Well, here is the thing: it is hard as heck; Turns out, he has a constitution that makes cultivating near impossible for him. Getting out of the first stages of Qi Refining and forming his Golden Core took forever it seems, and when he finally made it to the Immortal stage, he feels as if he had been run over by a bus after he was rung out of all his energy. it’s like whatever a normal person has to do to make it, it takes him not two, not even three, but a hundred times more to accomplish. But hey, he has a thirty-ish young body for all the years he’s really been alive and he still has magic, so it could have been worst.

(though if one wants to give him a golden finger of sorts; he has an absolutely insane pain tolerance :D things that would cause even the most mighty of Martial Heros to fall would be like, ‘huh, is something poking me?’. or chronic pain is also a thing if you want to be mean :) )

Only... Now that he has time for the actual world, he notices how his Sect’s state of affairs seem to be on the decline, with less and less people there now, most of them moving on to bigger and better things, bigger and better Sects and Clans. How the politics in his own Sect seem to be going to bigger and higher stakes, and how disagreements and feuds even end up almost destroying everything, a few Peak lords even dying from it.

These reasons all combined end up making MC one of the very few Immortals Golden Core Cultivators in the sect. It is because of this, that he ends up becoming a Peak Lord.

And Irony of Ironies, he is actually pretty damn good at it. (My idea is that in a previous life, MC was a Teacher or an Office worker, or maybe even both.)

Now, MC does not have want one would usually consider a golden finger, he is not the one who gets good things in life; in fact, he usually suffers and gets little to no reward from it... The same, on the other hand, can not be said for his disciples.

Disciple 1: ends up being the long lost son of an extremely wealthy family, who dies in the original novel for tragic backstory/emotional motive/character development for a novel character, only for MC to have saved them, then kept them because oh, high constitution for cultivation + bad idea for a grieving child this pretty to go to an orphanage. (glaring at them slavers out of the corners of his eye)

MC: Hey, I know it sucks what just happened, take as long as you need to recover. and hey, if you feel up to it, after you decide what to do, you can even join my sect and learn cool things.

D1: *sees things he can learn* ... I will never be so helpless again.

*Years later*

Wandering Clan: Young Master! You are well and alive! and they have been treating you well, even letting you learn Cultivation? Truly a noble sect, worthy of our loyalty!

MC’s Sect: + 1 business division, + a bunch to treasury

Disciple 2: Sibling to one of the Harem members, had thought she had been left for dead/slavers in the original novel by their sister and had been a tough, regularly appearing villain for a while until the protag has her see the error of her ways and became a harem member as well. Only once more, does MC save her from her situation, ending up getting him her gratitude and has her actually look really close at her situation and helps her look into the mystery of it all even as he takes her as his student.

MC: yeah, I’m only hearing about this second hand, and even I can see the holes in the story couldn’t even cover a hobo’s modesty. There is obviously more to this tale then meets the eye.

D2: ... *sparkles as she learns more on how to be a detective, Cultivation style*

*Years later*

Big Name Clan head: Ah, once again you have solved such a terrible crime and even this time shown how I have been framed! Truly a noble lady such as yourself have wishes? Please let me reward you!

MC’s Sect: + 1 Big Backer, + 1 to fame + a bunch more disciples for other Peaks

Disciple 3: the actual main villain of the series, he joins his sect when, during a night hunt, one of the Sect’s Elders watches him actually manage to kill the monster due to luck and a bit of skill; unfortunately he has some sort of dark inheritance + abusive teachers and fellow students in his sect who made him disillusioned with the lighter path and chased him into darkness... only here, MC strikes again, with him finding this poor abandoned child first, saving them from getting injured and taking them home to be well cared for and properly coached through the troubles of life.

MC: Crap, damn it, oh fuck that is more blood spilling then I am comfortable with, hang on little guy I will have this treated soon.

D3:... No one has ever cared for me so much. *Childish hero worship + instant loyalty.*

*Years Later*

Fangirls and boys: AHHHH D3 is just so cool, he is so awesome, so handsome!

MC’s Sect: +1 for fame, plus a bunch of more disciples for the sect.

Disciple 4: Female Canon Fodder, originally in the novel to act parallel to the Female Lead and make her look one hundred times better in comparison in looks, personality and even morals. But here is still insecure teenage girl who, before she could be blacken and disillusioned, wants more in her life then to be an ornamental vase for a future wealthy husband, finds out that MC’s Sect not only takes women, but also actually trains them in ways of Martial arts/Cultivation/Pill Refining/Whatever? (Sign her the fuck up.)

MC: oh, you want to learn? Sure, let’s start. *is a great teacher who actually teaches equally*

D4: *is a wide-eyed sponge* I will follow.

*Years Later*

D4′s Clan: Ah, yes, that great girl is indeed a daughter of our clan, bringing glory and honor to our names, with men lining up only in hopes she will but glance at them. 

MC’s Sect: + a Big Backer, + Fame, + more followers

Disciple 5: The Hidden Boss; the illegitimate son of a family (from wife or husband, whichever you desire), was outcast from them all without ever knowing why, not even allowed to learn his family’s martial arts and abilities even though he was incredibly talented and skilled at everything else he learned. In the original novel, he at first seemed like a helpful NPC family member of Protag/Harem member who would explain or even help the Protag and his harem, them all unknowing that he was in fact causing 30% of their problems. But here, MC notices Hidden Boss’s potential, sees how these people just seem to be wasting talent and goes;

MC: Hey, I can take him in!

Those who actually care about the kid: *sees all his other ducklings and the good rumors of his teachings.* sure, better with you then here.

Those who don’t care about the kid. *Sees the funny, ‘weak’ Peak Lord of a dying sect who is pretty far away from them* sure, as long as he’s not here.

*Year’s Later:

D5: *very successful, powerful, strong, and wealthy* Hello.

D5′s Clan: *sweats*

MC’s Sect: + 1 Fame, + Money, + Honor, + a whole bunch more.

 Disciple 6: Female character who was basically created solely for the need to give the Protag character, emotional, and background development in the story, and then die in the most fan pissing off way imaginable. yeah, you know what I’m talking about, a girl giving only one dimension to her structure, who has a profound effect on the main character for how little time they were together, and then just killed off before we even get the chance to even learn more! Only here, instead of staying wherever she was before, she either gets picked up by MC early on on one of his recruitment drives or hears of the sect’s growing fame and awesome female disciples and decides she wants more (like she deserves)

MC: oh, you’re pretty good at that! I can see real talent for you here; would you like to learn more?

D6: Yes please! ^_^

*Years Later*

D6: *A Noble Empress, eyes cutting just like her sword arts, her elemental affinity working in twine with it as she delivers a finishing blow to her monsterous foe* Huh, I’m pretty sure these are some prime ingredients for Cultivation, I must be careful to preserve and dismantle effectively!

MC’s Sect: + Fame, + Fortune, + a crap ton of good things. 

Whatever order you want them to come in, it’s up to you, just have fun with it.

But yeah, these are not the only changes from the original novel; for example, MC’s sect should have been destroyed/abandoned/deserted, only a footnote because of some obscure fact that needed to be know. (example: This monster is so terrible, it destroyed three sects! or MC’s Sect is the only one who knew of a technique to cure this poison; either find a survivor/search the ruins) Only for luck, the MC, and his lucky students to have saved it all in the end.

Note: To makes things more interesting, I think it would be funny if there were more Reincarnations/Transmigrators closer to the story line, but in shock of the differences to add to the comedy value.  

Idea Two: The System messed up, like a boss!

Now, how this idea starts out is a bit different: it’s just a bit before the MC dies, showing that they have been a normal guy before they had found themselves held captive by some obsessed stalker/killer for a long time, who has made it to where if they MC ever tried to harm them in any way or form, it would just end up guaranteeing his own death.

And after enduring this literal hell for what feels like years now, here are MC’s thoughts on the matter.

MC: Okay then. *proceeds to rip his tormentor's own throat out with his teeth*

(Now, it is up to the writer if they want to hide this dark history or not, maybe hinting here and there about it.)

Cue them suddenly being connected to the system!

MC: ... what?

System: Hiiii~ I’m-

ERROR!

*Suddenly cut off, MC goes through one hell of a disorienting experience, only to wake up in some child’s body.

MC: What

Child’s Soul that still barely remains in the body: Please, I just want to see what’s beyond these walls, just once. 

*sudden mindwammy of memories of the slavery this child has gone through, the torture from their masters, the cruelty of bystanders that just stand by.*

What the child’s words in a way mean: (I want to see one good thing, just one about this world, before I die.)

MC:... Okay then. *proceeds to rip out their current body’s Master’s throat, due to surprise, his soul not be the one that is enslaved, and a strange sort of energy*

(And maybe here it could be hinted about what happened if one wants to hide the MC’s past, about how this wasn’t the first time he’s tasted blood on his teeth or ripped out a person’s throat.)

This in the end erases the remaining slave binds on him, and makes it easy to escape the mansion he is being held in. Even better, it seems the place is also being raided by some group, so it’s even easier for MC to be lost in the confusion. When he is finally far enough away, when the distance finally feels just enough, the MC lets himself fall to the ground, right next to a shrub of some sorts before he finally takes a breath and fully taking in his surroundings.

Only to lose it as he finally takes in the scenery: a pretty jade like valley of some sorts, soft hills of green turned darker and yet still shining in the moonlight from a full moon and the stars all around them. You know those pictures of places with no light pollution on islands and such? This is what he see in this moment.

And both souls are in complete awe of it.

Child Soul: so beautiful... I never knew it (the world) could be so beautiful.

MC: I forgot it could be.

Child Soul: ... Thank you! Thank you so much! *smiles and passes on to bigger and better things.

It is after this bit of peace and quiet, that finally the system comes back.

System: Ah, sorry, technical difficulties, did not expect that; Anyways, I am the System, to help you in your role for your next life!

MC: ...Role?

System: Yes! You are the “Villainous Boss’ of -insert story name here-! I am the ‘Like a Boss’ System, ensuring one will act as a truly terrifying villain!

MC: *thinking* You said the VB of that story, aren’t they -insert villian’s name-?

System: Yes!

MC: The young Master who fell from the mountains and ended up following dark paths and murky unknowns?

System: Yes.

MC: the Villain who was dark haired and eyed, who’s skin was pale as jade was said to be, and could make man and woman go mad over his charm?

System:... Yes?

MC:... I think there has been a mistake. 

1:Considering that this was a child who was sold into slavery very young, to a point they don’t even know about parents, has dealt with the hell that is slavery to cruel masters, and would have in fact died just now if MC didn’t make a way through. {2} actually does have a name, and isn’t the same at all as the Villain. {3} the Body does not in anyway have dark hair or eyes, and the skin is not pale as jade (not to mention charm, unless someone is weak for poor orphaned waifs).

Yeah, a mistake has been made.

System: ah.... oh dear; maybe you do a switch a roo?

only, turns out that they find that would be impossible as well, because not only are they way before the story line even starts, MC’s constitution is very... Strange. (Basically, because MC could be classified as a Vengeful spirit, if only for the way he died, but due to him already getting said revenge, and even helping another soul pass on to the pure lands, he has a very high, very good constitution for Cultivation... both righteous and demonic. and his body needs to maintain an about equal level between the both of them, otherwise it gets out of wack and could cause most painful death.)

So, MC has to maintain tasks from the system, acting like a boss, and do certain things (like joining certain sects, to betraying a comrade, to even slaughtering a group of people sadistically ); luckily, he doesn’t actually have to be a villain, but he does have to act like it, which gives ideas.

MC: Okay, I will be the red herring Villain! The, it’s so obvious it just can’t be them kind of guy! 

System: DX ... why not, it might work.

And hilariously enough, it does :D I imagine MC would act like a combination between Ichimaru Gin from Bleach and Murkuro from KHR, clever, twisting, manipulative, and yet surprisingly playful and cruel when one least expects it. (that he has loyal fanatical followers with yandere tendencies goes without saying, though he has no idea; He has high intelligence, can understand emotions and motives, but does at times not realize just how much people have actually bonded with him himself.)

Examples of his relationships.

Twins he found: the famous mirrored twins, one going down the path of darkness and cruelty, even as one heads for the path of good and light; maybe in the original story they had been separated, or a distance was placed between them due to misunderstandings and jealousy. MC had gotten a get one and get the other free tag a longs, finding them when they were young and hadn’t yet joined a sect, only ending up bonding with them. Though he is admittedly worried about betrayal and being put down from them in the future, he still bonds and helps them as much as he can.

Though-

Twin 1: MC! MC! I’ve gotten even better in my Demonic cultivation!

Twin 2: shhhh, not so loud! But anyways, I have gone even farther levels in my out Righteous Cultivation.

MC: ... That’s nice?

They are like his most trusted advisors/Inner circle members (of course he would have one, any good villian would :D ) completely willing to do what must be done for their brother in arms and most trusted friend. (the one who had been there for them at their lowest, the one who was able to keep them all together, sacrificing what he needed, adding so many scars to his one body just to spare them. They are the ones who best know about the man he is, for they were the ones who saw how he was forged, turning his words, his looks, and even his smiles into the terrifying weapons they are today. He is the one who showed them you can be bathed in darkness and still be ever so good, something they will help with as much as they can.   

His First Disciple: Now, MC does take his teaching duties seriously, whether he is an elder in the sect or even a peak lord (though I would think it would be awesome if he was a Librarian), so he would be very attentive with his pupil, even if he teases and gently picks on them, messing with them as they grow older. MC originally took this kid because he remembers them from the novel as the one who helps the protagonist, who was thought to be an enemy only to be the secret ally. So he is pretty sure the kid will betray him eventually, especially since he let’s them in on all his shady practices and dealings with demonic cultivatior and/or actually demon folk. And with them being a complete Kuudere, it seems that way..

Only...

1st D: I will follow my Master to the end of my days. and if my death could be of service to him, I will have died with a light heart.

MC: wtf no! No dying for me!

The kid turns completely and utterly into his proud minion, happily doing what ever his dear Master asks of him. (after all, who was it that pulled him from the darkness, who showed him such care and attention, always there with a kind word and a joke whenever he was troubled? There was no one but him who wanted him, not during these long years, only for him to be pick specifically? ha, he will follow all his days, just as long as he can remain at his side.)

Very powerful Demon Lord (not king): Someone MC met while still young and unattached to a sect thought; hey, let’s get my consorting with darkness task down! After all, this guy was a well known villain in the series, a troublemaker through and through, who betrayed and sacrificed his minions and others like pawns. Once again, MC thinks he’s going to get betrayed eventually, but hey, the guy ain’t all bad and he’s pretty friendly even! though... 

Demon Lord that is in fact in control of a very terrifying and large territory: Sir, would you like me to take your coat? maybe even a drink? *orders a very expensive and luxury wine.*

MC: *eyes him suspiciously, but nods* I am willing. 

why they insist on waiting hand and foot on him always weirds them out. (For the Half-demon, half-human, it only makes sense; this person is their benefactor, so overwhelmingly powerful, just being near them strengths them, who he has picked him up even while he was a weakling and saw promise, made a gamble on that promise and even to this day still profits. Who is honestly even more terrifying then the demon King in DL’s eyes, and desires to please him all the more, so that he too can always serve this higher life form in his eyes.)

And these are just some examples, mostly all of them would probably be the inner circle I said he had XD

But wait, you might ask; what about those tasks you mentioned, how could betraying a comrade or slaughtering a group of people sadistically be good? here we go :D

betraying a comrade:

MC: okay, so, this guy is embezzling funds, this asshole is abusing his students, and this.. one...

System: ...?

MC:... “This one is raping their own Disciples, huh?” is said ever so softly, their eyes half-lidded even as they stare at the profile picture of the filth. “When they go on their next mission, make sure I am one of their backups, hmmm? I haven’t had the chance to push anyone off a cliff yet, have I?”  

Answer: In a big sect, everyone should be your comrade; that you are betraying their expectations, their values, or even ratting them out all make it up. (and cold-hearted murder always works for the scum of the earth too!)

slaughtering a group of people sadistically: 

System: so, we have a group of Demonic cultivators consorting with slave dealers, we have some criminals over here doing despicable things there, and we have traitors over here, what do you want to do?

MC: how about all of them?

Answer: what about those no one would miss :D

Notes: I would find it so funny if the MC was actually an animal magnet; like, birds will happily eat from his hand, deer will sleep right next to him, guardian beasts will want to protect him and keep him safe because god damn it, hasn’t this poor soul been through enough?! (be cool if this was one of the reasons why the sect leader actually trusts him; he has a bond with a guardian beast that can maybe read the soul or something, which MC has no clue about, so thinks nothing about how this beast keeps wanting to cuddle him.

but you want to know what? Out of everything, with all the the MC is doing? All they truly want in life is peace and rest, maybe even a shoulder to rest his weary head upon when life gets to much. (but thanks to the system and it’s tasks, he will never be able to truly have it.)

huh, this got pretty long.... eh, I had more ideas, but I think I’ll leave it here for now. If anyone wants more Wuxia/Xianxia/Xuanhuan , I might make a part two!

#Wuxia #Xianxia #Xuanhuan #story ideas #fantasy #I thought these were cool

[ifihadneverpickedthepenup]

Down this road again...

Did I really forget how to swim?

Is the ice we skate on really this thin?

I thought maybe I would not go through this with him.

I thought all the love given would be enough to be forgiven.

So why do I live in this fear, in this cage?

Where do I find an outlet for my sadness and rage?

I am afraid.

And I am sorry, but to me, you have it made.

I know you’ll never see it this way.

So I’ll try to silence these thoughts day by day.

Where is the graciousness, gratitude, or simple recognition?

That in this life you can create a beautiful vision,

Which can easily come to fruition,

If you simply make the decision,

Find yourself internally driven,

And come to terms with all that you have been given.

Whether it wisdom, financial stability, health care, or just a real support system.

And I know that things were broken for you too.

I understand that I will never understand what you have been through.

But if you can’t wake up and see,

Your life is something so many envy.

Maybe you can’t be the one for me-

And before you chime in with you “if that’s how you feel I will let you be”-

It’s not because I want to be free,

But rather that you won’t fight for me.

It is that you will never understand how broken this life has made me.

People: friends, family, and lovers constantly betray me

Always praying someone is going to save me.

I’m experiencing mental and physical despair.

I know you probably barely care.

I can see it now, our conversation, your distant stare.

But it really isn’t fair.

You left me to rot,

I don’t care if you see or not.

I spend hours now daily staring at the clock.

When you don’t call I wonder if you forgot, didn’t care, or were too distracted by some other girl in there.

But I mustn’t say that, I wouldn’t dare. Why would I risk being called a jealous, crazy bitch?

Because I drive myself crazy.

Because I love you.

Because I care.

Oh and to find true love can be so rare.

And I know we could have it, I swear.

But not until you see past the pain in my heart that I so nonchalantly wear.

Babe, I beg you would just understand all the pain that I’ve felt,

And my desperate need to escape.

Or recognition that this might be my fate.

Maybe it’ll never get better than the first date.

But all you see is my inability to wait.

I’m just acknowledging the truth, that it may be too late.

Maybe I’m not meant to have a mate.

Maybe heaven filled up early and they had to close the gate.

My own flesh and blood was the first man to ever give me a drug.

He made me believe ecstasy was the same thing as a fathers love or a warm hug.

But he hid the badness, he swept the darkness under the rug.

But all those dark and evil prices crept up when I found myself in love.

When I try to find understanding my mind draws blanks.

I’m not trying to turn this into a competition, some kind of sick race.

I just want you to see where in the world I was placed.

It’s like the joint your friends pass you without warning you it was laced.

As soon as I could taste it was far too late,

Pushed towards hell and told it will all be well.

It’s my fate, something I have to face.

Forget that bullshit,

That’s all fake.

Life just didn’t want me to be great.

Doomed to be an addict,

Doomed to be a whore,

And absolutely nothing more.

I have no God to open windows,

Only the devil closing doors.

Knowing good and damn well I can not compete with most girls.

We live in different worlds.

You go to your parents as an escape,

For me it’s always a mistake.

Your family tells you to drive straight,

Mine would probably let me drive into a lake.

My father would definitely let me get date raped.

I know you think I’m exaggerating,

But moments ago we were smoking heroin together, let that sink in.

You don’t really know him.

There are some really dark things about him.

Things I hope will die with my generation.

Narcissism is the only word he wants to live in.

But he always wants to drag me down with him,

Knowing he has constantly failed his children.

Although it may be impossible to fully protect them,

Seems pretty basic moral integrity to look out for ones own kin.

If you think it’s just “tough love” that I was given, I would really like to share a portion,

Seriously I would have preferred my mom have an abortion.

Even that description can not begin to scratch the surface of the shitstorm that I live in.

And just like that my happiness was stolen.

I understand you’ll never know what it’s like to be a weed in the trash, while simultaneously being told your a flower with limitless potiental to grow.

Yet every bit of growth seems to stagnant, so slow.

I wish my past was like a map you could unroll.

I could take you where I’ve been, you could show me where to go.

But for now your advice is insulting because you’ve neglected to take the time to really get to know me.

Who am I? Do you have any clue?

What it is like to be anyone but you.

And don’t think for a second I haven’t tried to put myself in your shoes too.

I constantly try to understand because I do love you.

But I don’t think my whole past is even a story you could sit through.

I know just hearing some of my pain utterly disgust you.

Shit it does me too.

I use dark and sick humor to mask my mistakes.

Sometimes I believe my own bullshit and become a heartless bitch.

I turn off that switch.

But that should not invalidate my feelings you dick!

Great, now I sound like a prick.

Why can’t you just understand this shit?

Oh how I wish.

Don’t get me wrong, I get it, things had to be fixed.

But I am sick and tired of you saying it had to happen like this.

You left so quick that I could not pull myself together to get a goodbye kiss.

Now I do not know if I will ever get it.

You lied over and over,

Making me feel like I constantly had to look over my shoulder.

You stole from me repeatedly, so why should I believe you didn’t just use me?

You say I’m jealous?

What do you expect when our relationship is sexless?

You have often called me by the name of another bitch.

Do you even comprehend that shit?

You told me another woman’s sex was better than mine, but it’s “okay” because you were “out of your mind...”

But sure, “you’re in love with me”.

I’m not blind.

What you’re doing is not kind.

You probably are not in love with me and that is fine,

But do not let me do this time after time.

Trying so desperately to have you really love me.

Or make you want to be mine.

I’ve never been someone to be proud to have.

But for me, I want you to be my baby’s dad.

I want you to be my husband,

And I want you to be glad.

But again I know it’s something I will never have.

So I am sorry that I am sad.

Why am I so disgusting and broken?

Why is my pussy so scary to cum in?

You say you want a future, but you’ll never want my children.

Can you even picture a house that we are both happy to live in?

No really, think about that again.

This isn’t meant to be a sweet little hym.

This is the life I’ve created or been given.

I don’t know how to live in the system.

I’ll probably end up in another toxic relationship or abused by men since you think I’ll deserve it because I “hit” them.

Shit I’ll probably end up dead in the streets.

Hell maybe it’ll happen before you get out in the next couple of weeks.

So while I know I sit here and endlessly weap.

I shall consent to defeat.

Your family gave you an ultimatum.

Which ultimately made you choose them.

To me it’s sick we were put in a situation to make that decision.

And I get it, it’s cool, if I had your family I would probably choose them too.

And when you say “just don’t worry” or “don’t mind them,”

I wish you’d take a step back and look again.

Realize you will always choose them again and again.

To you, I am not family.

I’m barely even “your baby”

You’ve already shown your sister all of my crazy.

They already hate me (if they even waste the energy on me).

I’m trying so hard to explain don’t you see?

I don’t know how I will handle you going to leave me.

But I see for you it was pretty easy.

There wasn’t even a question of you staying with me.

The threat from your family was enough for you to leave oh so quickly.

And yet you do not even see that your family deceived you and me.

I wanted to be your family but now I see, that was extremely silly.

You probably won’t even spend another night with me.

So when I rant and bitch and try to explain my life it is simply because I never had it that nice.

You will probably find me dead before you ever understand what is going through my head every night before I go to bed.

My circle of support is so small and fake, I am not going to get better at all at this rate.

But yet when you ask if you should stop calling, I don’t know how to say yes, it would probably rip out my chest.

But if I had to guess, it won’t be long until no love is left.

The things she said honestly destroyed me and every time I read it, it makes me want to die,

I may as well be out of my mind, out of sight.

Just so she can be right and I can be the “bad guy”.

But I am realizing as I write this that it will all be okay, maybe even better this way.

I bet you don’t even know what to say, just like every time, everyday.

But your giant heart always makes my world fall apart.

Even at your darkest I see your spark.

Even with this time apart.

And you are so fucking smart.

The intelligence of 100 men, the strength of a lion.

A beautiful mane, looks that drive me insane.

The gentle grace, which will have me follow you any place.

You can do anything you set your mind to and I really hope that you’ll find the courage to take the time to.

You gave me some of the best memories of my life.

You are so sweet, too damn nice.

Though I know I will dream of you every night,

I recognize I am toxic and will respectfully remove myself from your life.

And maybe in moments when I’m high, I can hang on to your beautiful light and momentarily forget about my life.

I am sorry I held you back,

I am sorry I took your friends,

I am sorry I took your happiness,

I am sorry I made you loose yourself.

I really hope you hang onto your health.

I love you forever and you will always make my heart melt.

~ifihadneverpickedthepenup

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