#Queen bee Tickle fic

[queenbeebumblebee]

"Trying to meassure"

Lee!Vox Ler!Velvette

Summary: Velvette is trying to meassure Vox for new outfits in plan(plus to Fix the old one) and it turns into a little Tickle Game.

Vox was just minding his own business looking through his new phone, he had to get a new one because You know, the last time Val broke his phone, wich it wasnt no fun.

Of course, his suit was a MESS! Because of today he had been dealing with Alastor, wich of course.. lost. You could tell he was extremely mad about this. Of course, this din't last for long.

As Vox was just checking on social media, minding his own business, he could hear some familiar footsteps coming closer and closer to him, it was non other than Velvette, who exactly, looked annoyed.

"Vox. Vox i need You to come with me now."

Velvette said sternly, earning Vox's look of confusion.

"hm? What could be the problem My dear?"

Vox asked, looking confused on the annoyed look the other Overlord gave, he din't Even notice his ruined suit.

"have You LOST your mind?! Look at You, You look horrible! Come over here now!!"

Velvette yelled, her expression on her face turning from annoyed to mad, she quickly dragged Vox by the wrist, guiding him to the wardrove.

"oh come on Vel, My suit doesnt look THAT Bad!"

Vox said, looking at his own suit, He thinks that this was just normal, but for Velvette, it was a DISASTER.

Let's skip to the important part.

Vox was forced to be Standing still as Velvette meassured him, because she needed to Make him a new outfit for him, plus a few Styles just to Make him look awesome, though, his breath has been caught trapped in his throat as the Overlord "accidently" brushed her fingers across his ribs.

"u-uhm.. Vel, what exactly are You-"

Before he could Even Say anything else, a soft snort came out of him as Velvette veeery slowly counted his ribs, while her other hand "accidently" tickled his hip, earning a few giggles from the Tv Overlord, his screen now heating up and his fans working to cool him off.

"V-Vehehel! Cuhuhut it ohohohout!!"

"hold still Vox, i'm trying to meassure You."

Vox tried his hardest to not move away, of course, he can't help but twitch slightly as it really tickled him, he did not want to be a giggly mess right now, as if it was gonna be worse, still, she did not stop.

"come on, it ain't that bad."

"b-but it tihihickles! Ohoho fuck, gehet it ohohover wihihith!!"

Vox said as he wheezed out a cackle, sure, he liked being tickled, Even though he wouldnt ever and i mean NEVER admit it, but it was hard to hold still when Velvette just meassured him as an excuse to Tickle him, yet he dint mind at all, but-

"AHAHA SHIHIHIHT, V-VEHEHEL NOT THEHEHEHERE!!"

Vox yelled as he shrieked when Velvette MESSED With his antenna, while her other hand was still "meassuring" him by brushing her fingers from his hips, to his Upper ribs, close to his Armpits.

"oh come on Vox, let me meassure You, i'm almost done."

"IHIHIHITS SOHOHO BAHAHAHAD!"

Vox yelled as he squeald and cackled, Velvette of course watched with a grin, she finds in funny how ticklish this Demon is, her and Valentino always takes advantage, but they don't do it better than Alastor of course.

A few minutes passed, Vox's laughter and snorts filled the air, until finally, Velvette decides to have some mercy on the poor Overlord.

"i'm done, You have to wait here 'till i get some outfits in your size, okay?"

"g-geheheheez.. okay... Ohoho god.. that was so Bad.."

Vox said quietly as he wheezed and tried to catch his breath, as Velvette left, Vox took this opportunity to just relax and wait, though he kinda wanted the Tickles to go on for longer, but he would rather double die then to admit it. He then took a seat as he waited for the other Overlord to come back with the outfits, he could hear her yelling at her employees.. let's just Say he had a Revenge plan, but for now, he waited to get a new suit.

THE END.

OMG finally i'm done with this, i'm sorry it took long, i was busy on some shit. But anyways, i hope You enjoyed it!

[yadchi-i-guess]

Deal with the Devil(s)

By Yadchi (I guess)

Electric Shock AU by @leefl00f

So basically Uzi asks Lizzy for a favor, and after some convincing, the queen bee accepts. Anything for her girlfriend, after all...

SFW tickle fic!

Word count: 2,127

Uzi was in a bad mood.

Granted, most days she was in a bad mood, what with getting older and stuff, but today she was particularly sour. And everyone was gonna know about (or be aware of) it, if it's the last thing on Copper-9 she did.

She'd refused to do any of her schoolwork, talked back to the teacher at every turn, and had chucked a dodgeball at Chad in gym class so hard he crashed into the wall. Even his friend Thad was impressed... which might've made Uzi blush a little.

At least now it was lunchtime, and the little rebel could get some real time to herself. She let her feet carry her to a desolate hallway, perfect, wide open space to let her mind wander.

Uzi settled down at the foot of a locker with a small sigh, finally able to just chill. Batteries were on the menu today in her lunchbox, and she was about to toss one in her mouth when something suddenly grazed her neck.

"Eeheheek! Wahahat the heheeck?!" She squeaked, fumbling for the mysterious little tickler as the battery bounced off her face. She pulled it off and was surprised to see Bit hadn't tagged along for the school day. It was PomPom.

"Hehey! What're you doing here, little dude?" Uzi chuckled.

Knowing that his tickles were well received, PomPom scurring around happily in his friend's hand as he was given a battery. He flashed a "TY <3" message at Uzi, whose facescreen glitched and flashed a ">:3" back.

"Having fun with that icky little pet of yours?" Someone standing over Uzi said.

"AGH! Bite me, Lizzy!" Uzi barked as she shot up and clenched her fist around PomPom. She was almost certain sometimes that Doll's girlfriend had the Solver too, with how easily she spooked her from time to time.

"Oh chillllll, you know my locker's right where you're snackin," Lizzy replied nonchalantly. She reached in for something, then looked back at Uzi, who was still eyeing her angrily.

"Not in the mood for your dumb teasing," the little drone pouted. She was just getting to feel a little better... only for Lizzy to screw it all up again.

"Sheesh, sardonic much?" Lizzy asked. "What's with the foul attitude?"

"And why would you care?"

"Dolly's your cousin, and she made it clear I can't treat you like garbage."

Uzi let out a small "hpmh" and sat back down, forcing her attention back on PomPom grooming his front legs in an attempt to ignore Lizzy. "Just bite me. Doll's the reason why I'm so upset," she said acidically.

"Seriously? Doll making you angry? That's far from a first," Lizzy said as she leaned against the locker. "What's so different about this time?"

"The fact she got away with it!" Uzi spat back. "She tickled me and teased me, and it was stupid, and I couldn't tickle her back! And I FRICKING LOST BECAUSE OF IT!"

A couple nights ago, Doll had challenged Uzi to a Mario Kart rematch to make up for Uzi cheating earlier, but the Russian drone had used the cheeky tactic employed on herself before; tickling Uzi to distract her while they were racing. She had then teleported back home right before Uzi tackled her.

Although it was a generalized rule that revenge would always occur between cousins, Uzi hadn't yet been able to get close enough to Doll and get her sweet revenge, making her typically snarky, mischievous attitude rot like an old piece of human food since then.

But that's when a little lightbulb went off in her head. The one that usually meant another one of her devious little ideas was forming, and a smirk would grow on her face.

"Hey, Lizzy," Uzi said with a gloat. "How would you-"

"Nope, this is between you and Doll," Lizzy interrupted bluntly as she turned away. Unfortunately, she didn't get far as Uzi activated [Translate] on the worker to immobilize her.

"Ohhhhh no you don't," Uzi deadpanned. "You're gonna help me get back at Doll because nothing can stop me."

"Oh, for robo-god's sake, Uzi..." Lizzy sighed as she struggled to break free (to no avail).

"Can't you give it a rest and NOT try to get revenge on her? Besides, what's in it for-"

"First of all, we're cousins, it's like siblings fighting, but you live in different houses," Uzi retorted. "Second off... I know how to make your hangout with your girlfriend betterrrrrr!"

Lizzy just blinked. Could she really trust this little weirdo to make her hangout (totally not date) more enjoyable? Frankly, not really, but she didn't have many other options.

"Go on..." she said dryly.

"Tell ya what," Uzi started to explain. "I'm gonna give you PomPom for the night. Cuddle with Doll for a bit, get really into an old human tv show or something... then let him scurry alllllll over Doll."

"And I get in return...?"

"The delightful giggling from your girlfriend."

"..."

"Ugh... and I'll wear one of the spare cheerleader outfits for the rest of the week."

"Hah!" Lizzy chuckled, satisfied. "Consider it done!"

Uzi's face lit up in pure excitement, foreseeing the absolute chaos that would unfold during their date. She released her Solver grip on Lizzy.

"Shake on it?" Uzi asked cheekily, holding out her hand. Lizzy reluctantly took her hand, relieved to see the little rebel didn't try to pull anything.

"Anything to see my girlfriend laugh," Lizzy smirked, but it melted off her face when she saw PomPom crawling on Uzi's shoulder. "But did your friend really have to be a roach...?"

"Yes, bite me," Uzi spat.

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

The timing could not be more perfect.

Doll came into Lizzy’s room, looking very down and somewhat filthy. She immediately went in for a hug from her popular girlfriend, something she rarely ever did.

"What's wrong, Dolly?" Lizzy asked calmly, stroking the Russian drone's stiff wig.

["Nothing..."] Doll mumbled. ["Got in a fight. Don't wanna talk about it."]

"Yeaaaah... it's ok, girlfriend," Lizzy replied brightly. "Now you have me, and we can just cuddle and be cute together!"

Doll nodded slowly. Lizzy was so good at comforting her that it was almost ridiculous. Her bright, loving disposition was simply infectious. The solver drone settled on the bed to be as close as possible, a moth drawn to her light. Her low mood was a thing of the past within minutes of turning on some human tv show from the 90s.

["This again?"] Doll muttered. ["We watched this last week..."]"Nah, pretty sure this is a..." Lizzy trailed off as she watched the intro. "Nope, never mind. It's the pilot again."

["I've never understood why they named that character 'remember'..."] Doll commented.

Lizzy hummed in reply, and 10 minutes in, she noticed Doll seemed to be very drawn into the show, to the point where she'd barely respond to a poke on the shoulder.

Operation "Revenge of the Giggles" was a go.

The blonde drone reached under her helmet and pulled out a small, wriggling mass that had been sleeping until now. She let PomPom hop off her hand and onto Doll’s head, doing a rather good job of holding in her mischievous snickering.

["What's so funny...?"] Doll asked after a solid minute.

"Ohhhhh, it's a little secret, Dolly." Lizzy replied. "And secrets are blackmail... well, until they get found out, anyway."

["Implying... Eeheheek! *hic* Whaahaht the hehehck?!"]

Lizzy simply smirked as she watched PomPom crawl around on Doll's stomach in excitement, making the solver drone curl up and cover her belly to lessen the tickles. The way Doll squealed with laughter made a wide grin spread on Lizzy’s face, just as wide as the one her girlfriend couldn't contain. It was that adorable.

"Oop! Looks like my secret's out!" Lizzy remarked mischievously.

["Lizzyyyhyhyhy! *hic* Hehehahaa!"] Doll stammered, her voice broken heavily with giggles. ["Geeheheht hihihm off meehehheee! *hic* Ehehhahaha!"]

"Hm, nah," Lizzy answered, leaning back and going on her phone. "I'm totally enjoying this more than I thought I would."

However, it wasn't long before PomPom hopped off of Doll's belly, seemingly uninterested in tickling her more. Doll rolled away to put some kind of distance between her and the bug, falling on the floor.

["Nehehever... do that to me again..."] Doll huffed, her voice still laced with giggles. ["Heeeehh... what're you looking at...?"]

"Uhm... Is PomPom supposed to be squeaking at a random wall?" Lizzy asked, watching the bug chirping at... nothing in particular.

Doll shrugged, then examined the wall as she stood. Perhaps there was a threat on the other side? PomPom sounded very... in distress, something Uzi mentioned that giggle bugs could practically smell danger throughout the whole bunker.

Then Doll spotted the vent. A small one, but it was big enough to let an infestation of bugs in and out. There were two tiny flickers of pink light. Then two more. And more. Lizzy had noticed it, too.

"Uhmm... Dolly...?" Lizzy spoke up hesitantly. "D-does PomPom have any... friends?"

["Dozens, why?"]

"...why DID UZI LIKE, NOT TELL ME?!"

[Yep, that checks out], Doll thought.

However, she didn't get a response out of her mouth before more giggling came first. She looked down and saw the giggle bugs already crawling up her legs.

["No no no, nohohoho!"] Doll squealed as she curled around her stomach again. ["Hehhahaha! *hic* Nohohot ahahahgain!"]

"Doll!" Lizzy exclaimed as she perched herself on the backboard of her bed. She wasn’t having it any easier. The bugs had never tickled her before, which meant a lovely new friend. She had managed to get away, but not for long. One of the bugs jumped onto her leg and started its ascension.

"ACK! EW!" Lizzy screeched shrilly. "Get off me-eheeheee! Eheheheheee! Stahahahahap!"

Doll had enough strength to pull her head up and saw Lizzy being swarmed. It was somewhat adorable, hearing the queen bee's goofy, bubbly laughter... too bad she didn't seem to be enjoying it.

["Hehehee! *hic* just leheheheet it haaaahahappen!"] Doll advised as best she could. ["They'll stahahahp eventuallyhyhhy!"]

"Whehehehen?!"

["I don't knohoohOHOHOHO! AAAAHAHHAA!"]

The unholy screaming that came from Doll just after she stopped laughing almost made Lizzy assume the devil had paid them a visit. The giggle bugs had started using the fuzzy fluffs on their feet and rubbed them on Doll's skin, unluckily on her death spot.

"Hehehehey!" Lizzy exclaimed at the bugs. "Leheheheve her ribs alohoohohne!"

Unfortunately, she didn't count on the bugs getting to her armpits, and she let out an unholy scream of her own.

"AAAAAAAHHAHAA! NOHOHOHOT THEEHHEEHRE!" Lizzy cackled, throwing her head back as the bugs skittered all over her. She was having such a bad time that digital tears of mirth welled up in her optics.

After what seemed like hours (in reality, it was around 7 minutes of on and off tickling), Lizzy finally got to catch a real breath as the bugs got off her body.

"Heeeeeh... hehehe... ok... that actually felt nice... heheh..." Lizzy panted. "D-doll?" ["Lizzyyyhyhyhy! Heheheheh... heheheehelp!"] Doll giggled weakly. She'd had it way worse and was way over her limit. Unfortunately, PomPom and his buddies hadn't gotten the message.

"Oh! Uh, uh..." Lizzy jumped and attempted to scare the bugs away. Given that she had the height advantage, it worked. "Shoo! Get off her! Leave her alone!"

Little by little, the giggle bugs scurried away from Doll and back into the vent, headed up by PomPom, who the worker drones had no doubt was satisfied in another job well done.

"You good, Dolly?" Lizzy asked as she helped Doll off the floor.

["I-I'll be fine..."] Doll stammered as she tried to regain her breath. ["*hic!* hff... hff...]

"Dear robo-god... I'm so sorry, girl!" Lizzy said as she pulled Doll into a hug. "If I'd known Uzi would sic this on us, I'd have never struck a deal!"

["Is ok... is ok..."] Doll replied quietly, patting her girlfriend's back. The two pulled away from each other, looking at one another up and down. Then Lizzy giggled.

"Wow. OMG," she said. "Those giggle bugs really did a number on ya! And in a good way."

Doll looked down at herself. There was no trace of dirt and filth from earlier anywhere. No wonder the giggle bugs went on her so hard.

["Ah, well..."] Doll trailed off awkwardly as she blushed. ["Heheh... they did."]

"Oh you, always being so modest," Lizzy chuckled. She leaned back on the bed. "C'mon. You need alllllll the r&r after that."

Doll nodded and laid down halfway on Lizzy, clinging softly to her as they resumed their show.

["Hey Lizzy...] Doll mumbled.

"Hm?"

["Wanna help me get revenge on Uzi tomorrow?"]

"Totes."

["Thanks... what'd I do to deserve you as a girlfriend...]

The end :]

Wow, it has been a HOT MINUTE since I published a tickle fic! I really gotta get back into this, it's so fun writing murder drones fluff. <3

[bambirex]

hi! have ever heard the song girl crush? could you write a Quinntana fic to that BUT somehow make it a happy ending? i need something happy/sappy in my life right now. sending love & hugs your way xoxoxo

Hi! I didn't know the song so I had to look it up and I'm also really bad at song fics, but I hope this is still somewhat acceptable!

Warnings: angst, self-esteem issues, compulsory heterosexuality

**

For the first two years, Santana told herself that she hated Quinn because she was more popular and taller, and because Puck, the same person who went to bed with Santana every second night, was more interested in her.

When Quinn walked down the hallway, Santana resisted the urge to slap that smile off her face - pink, glossy lips curled into a smug smirk. Santana wondered if those lips tasted like cherry, or if they tasted of the awful energy drink Puck always drank.

If she kissed her, what would Quinn say?

That she was jealous, she wanted to be like Quinn. Popular queen bee, captain of the Cheerios, top of the pyramid. Pretty blonde with mesmerizing blue eyes, good grades and rich parents.

Who wouldn't want to be Quinn Fabray?

Quinn Fabray, who had all the boys drooling after her. Puck might have whistled appreciatively when Santana bent over for a book she dropped, but he had stars in his eyes when he looked at Quinn.

For the first two years, Santana hated Quinn because she was everything that she longed to be.

She wondered that if her skin was that soft and peachy, if her voice was that mellow and her attitude was less explosive and more posh, she could get the people in her life to stay. Maybe Quinn had some sort of magic coursing through her veins that put everyone under a spell. She enchanted people.

Quinn's perfume was always so sweet. Not in a too direct, nauseating way: it lingered under the nose faintly, but stuck to your clothes days later. Santana wanted to buy something similar, but she's never quite found the right one. She tried everything in the local shop, but nothing smelled as sweet as Quinn did.

Nothing and no one was as good as Quinn was. Certainly not Santana.

She could only wish to be like her. Maybe then Puck would stay, maybe her life would be easier.

But she didn't even like Puck that much, did she?

When she lay with him, her mind was always filled with someone else. A softer touch, a gentler voice. A sweet scent. Long blonde hair tickling her face. The supple curves of another woman, holding her, loving her.

She was faceless at first, a manifestation of Santana's hidden desires. Just a daydream without a name.

But soon enough, the shape became familiar. Santana was looking into beautiful blue eyes while she pretended to be enjoying the way Puck was touching her.

It took Santana two whole years to realize that she didn't want to be Quinn: she wanted Quinn. It was not Puck, or any other stupid boy she wanted.

It was Quinn.

She wasn't jealous of Quinn's beauty and popularity: she didn't want to look like her, or steal her spotlight. All these confusing thoughts were simply the direct result of her forbidden longing. She loved Quinn so deeply, that it turned into hatred; she admired her so much that it spiraled into jealousy.

Every single night, Santana went to bed thinking about Quinn, and every single morning, she woke up wishing this emotional turmoil would end. That Quinn would finally let her go, although she wasn't even aware of the hold she had on Santana.

The tornado of her feelings didn't slow down: it rampaged through their teenage years, poisoning their friendship and ruining every chance of Santana ever shooting her shot with Quinn. Years later, she accepted herself, she was an out and proud lesbian, but she couldn't put down the burden that was Quinn.

Until one, fateful night filled with champagne and a surprising amount of honesty, changed everything.

Santana sometimes thought she was just dreaming. That she was still just a closeted teenager in love with her frenemy, trying to tell herself that her crush on her wasn't real, she was just being jealous.

Even now, she rubbed her eyes and pinched herself, checking if it was still reality she was experiencing.

Quinn's sleeping form remained next to hers in the bed, even after several seconds of blinking.

Santana scooted closer, nuzzling into the crook of Quinn's neck. Quinn murmured something under her breath sleepily, then she wrapped an arm around Santana, holding her close.

Santana listened to Quinn's heartbeat, and breathed in that soft scent. Now she knew the name of her perfume, but she didn't have to buy it for herself anymore. Its wearer was right in her arms.

A couple years ago, Santana was full of frustrations, and Quinn was the beautiful demon that haunted her nightmares.

Now, they were laying in each other's arms, fingers laced together, their skin warm against one another.

It made Santana believe that dreams could come true.

[sparktober]

Sparktober Bingo 2021!

Back for a new generation: Sparktober Bingo!

Instead of coming up with an Atlantis-specific list of prompts, I compiled a bunch of 2021 -tober prompt lists into one google doc here. (Links to original prompt lists are on the google doc.) Add in a list of Atlantis episodes and...

How to play:

Choose a “flavor” from the prompt sets below the cut, then paste it into this fandom bingo card generator.

Adjust your browser size til it looks right and take a screenshot, or use the html script if you’re familiar with using html on tumblr. Tag @sparktober​ if you want us to reblog it so everyone knows you’re playing!

  Sparktober Bingo Rules:

Complete a row/column, corners, or a blackout of your card by November 1, or not! Update as you go.

All fan-works are allowed: art, edits, fic, meta... bonus points to anyone who picks the “sprinkles” flavor and goes full mid-aughts by filling their bingo cards with 100x100 pixel icons.

You are allowed to pull multiple cards until you get one that inspires you, and you can also go through the prompt list of your choice in advance to pull out squicks or things you absolutely won’t write. I recommend not googling unfamiliar words from your work computer.

Use the prompts liberally! Episode titles can be treated as the episode or as generic prompts (e.g. “Epiphany” can be for an episode-related fic or a prompt for an epiphany of your choice).

  Flavor descriptions:

VANILLA: Gen prompt lists from Fictober, Inktober, Trektober Gen, and Trektober Trek.

CHOCOLATE: Zesty prompt lists from Trektober NSFW, Kinktober, and Whumptober. The multiple-prompts-per-day from Kinktober and Whumptober have been broken into individual prompts.

CANDY CORN: Fall / holiday themed prompts from TUA-tober.

SPRINKLES: Atlantis episode list (in order, in case you only want to copy certain seasons), along with characters and a few Atlantis-specific prompts.

TWIST: All of the above! (You can also manually mix and match different flavors, of course.)

Text blocks to copy into the bingo card generator are below the cut. Enjoy!!

VANILLA

“I need you.”; “You have no proof.”; “I’ve waited for this.”; “Fine, I give up.”; “I’m not saying I told you so…”; “Didn’t we already have this conversation?”; “That could have gone better.”; “This is it, isn’t it?”; “There’s no right side to this.”; “It’s so quiet.”; “I swear, it’s not always like this.”; “You keep me safe.”; “The things you make me do…”; “Your information was wrong.”; “I like that in you.”; “Not this again.”; “I’m with you, you know that.”; “This was not part of the plan.”; “I feel strange.”; “That’s what I’m known for.”; “What did I say?”; “No promises.”; “This time, do what I say.”; “Is this supposed to impress me?”; “Do you know what time it is?”; “I’m sure this has never worked, ever.”; “You could have died!”; “I don’t have to explain myself.”; “Why are we whispering?”; “Don’t ruin this.”; “Take me with you.”; Crystal; Suit; Vessel; Knot; Raven; Spirit; Fan; Watch; Pressure; Pick; Sour; Stuck; Roof; Tick; Helmet; Compass; Collide; Moon; Loop; Sprout; Fuzzy; Open; Leak; Extinct; Splat; Connect; Spark; Crispy; Patch; Slither; Risk; Meet-Cute; Amnesia; Age Difference; Pining; Sick Fic; Fake Relationship; Accidental Meeting; Epistolary; Secret Identity; Historical AU; Nightmares; Monster Hunter; Reunion; Soulmates; At Pride; Angst; Seasons; Fix-It; Coffee Shop; Movie Plot AU; Kid Fic; Actor's Other Crossover Work; OT+; Getting Together; Only One Bed; Pirates; Making Up; Forbidden Relationship; Tattoos; Halloween; Prime Directive; Lower Decks / Background Characters; Away Mission; Ship's Bar; Aliens Made Them Do It; Observation Deck; Crew with Family; Holodeck; Science Crew; Character Survives; Headcanons; Diplomacy; Decontamination; Trek Crossover; Replicator; Worldbuilding; Redshirts; Sex / Love Potion; Medical Crew; Transporters; Medbay; Interspecies Relationship; Mirrorverse; Uniforms; Mutiny; Stranded on a Planet; Rec Room; Academy Era; Second Contact; Command Crew; Off-Duty

  CHOCOLATE

A/B/O; Soft; Anonymous Sex; Penetration with Object/s; Sleeping; Intercrural Sex; Restraints; In/Under Water; Group Sex; First Time; Possessive Behavior; Dry Humping / Grinding; Overstimulation; Roleplay; Rimming; Stretching / Fisting; Power Imbalance; Food Play; Fingering; Body Worship; Sex Work; Voyeurism / Exhibitionism; Safewords; Technology; Oral Sex; Omorashi / Wetting; Crying; Underwear / Lingerie; Friends with Benefits; Pain Kink; Dirty Talk; Trick or Treat; All trussed up and nowhere to go; Talking is overrated; Sticks and stones may break my bones...; Trust fall; I've got red in my ledger; Touch and go; My spidey-sense is tingling; Coughing up a lung; Rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated; Oops, I did it again; Just keep swimming; It'll be fun, they said; That's gonna leave a mark; Under pressure; Feed a cold, starve a fever; On a need-to-know basis; Field care 101; The doctor is in; Just a scratch; Lost & found; That's where the blood's supposed to be; They made me do it; You break it, you buy it; One down, two to go; Hide & Seek; You will go down with this ship; “I'm fine, I prom...”; It's (not) just in your head; All work and no play; Digging your grave; Hurt & Comfort; “You have to let go.”; Garotte; Taunting; “Do you trust me?”; Betrayal; Bruises; Helplessness; Pneumothorax; Presumed Dead; Hospital; Adrift; Torture; “This is gonna suck.”; Crush injuries; Delirium; Recovery; “Please don't move.”; “Now smile for the camera.”; Bitten; Trunk; Bleeding through bandages; Cursed; Auction; Self-induced injuries to escape; Escape; Fallen; Passing out; “Good, you're finally awake.”; “You're still not dead?”; Major character death; Disaster zone; Barbed Wire; Choking; Insults; Taken Hostage; Misunderstanding; Touch Starved; Numbness; Exotic Illness; (Blind) Rage; Flare-Up; Drowning; Made To Watch; Burns; Beaten; Fever Dreams; Scars; Hemorrhage; Doctor Visit; Bleeding; Trapped Under Water; Pressure; Demon; Ransom; Flashback; Flight; Waterfall; Vertigo; Nightmares; Too Weak To Move; Left For Dead; Trauma; Bound; Gagged; “Who Did This To You?”; Pushed; Broken Nose; Hunger; Blindness; “Definitely Just A Cold”; Tears; Ice Chips; Dehydration; Begging; Cauterization; Force; Bees; Aftermath; Dread; Cpr; Stabbing; Solitary Confinement; Blood-Matted Hair; Obsession; Pursuit; Revenge; Hiding; Trap Door; Collapse; Panic; Overworked; Ghosts; Prisoner; Losing Control; Threats; Caning; Mercy; Forgotten; Head Injury; Screaming; Comfort; Self-Sacrifice; Trapped; Near-Death Experience; Regret; Tragedy; Battlefield; Anxiety; Gore; Petplay; Bimbofication; Panties & Lingerie; Bondage; Double Penetration in 2 Holes; Breeding; Humiliation; NTR; Incest; Emeto; Omorashi; Free Use; Crossdressing; Public; Three (or more) some; Daddy & Mommy; Double Penetration in 1 Hole; Distention & Cockbulge; Xenophilia; Shotgunning; Watersports; Pregnancy; Lactation; Waxplay; Grooming; Human Furniture; Feet; Prostituion; MacroMicro; Spanking; Cockwarming; Glory Hole; Somnophilia; Body Modification; Temperature Play; Leather; Size Difference; Sounding; Stockings; Tentacles; Medical Play; Stripping; Orgasm Denial; Master & slave; Scissoring; Titfucking; Frottage; Knifeplay; Formal Wear; Breathplay; Fisting; Pegging; Scat; Beastiality; Fucking Machine; Tickling; Boot Worship; Bukkake; Collaring; Foodplay; Non or dubcon; Feederism; Sensory Deprivation; Oviposition; Clone & Selfcest; Exhibitionism & Voyeurism; Impact Play; Sadomasochism; Bloodplay; Praise Kink; Body Swap; Sweat; Branding; Massage; Role Reversal; Armpit; Masturbation; Inflation; Sex Toys; Burnplay; Menophilia; Stuck in Wall; Deepthroating & Facesitting; Dacryphilia; Hate Sex

  CANDY CORN

Birthday; Sick Day; Autumn; Candles; Plaid / Flannel; Leaf Piles; Sweaters; Baking; Cinnamon; Pumpkin Spice Latte; Carnival; Movie Night; Candy; Graveyard; Black Cats; Goosebumps; Pumpkin; Party; Monster; Ghosts; Witch; Vampire; Traditions; Magic; Mask; Haunted House; Trick; Treat; Costume; Monster Mash; Halloween

  SPRINKLES

Rising Part 1; Rising Part 2; Hide and Seek; Thirty-Eight Minutes; Suspicion; Childhood's End; Poisoning the Well; Underground; Home; The Storm; The Eye; The Defiant One; Hot Zone; Sanctuary; Before I Sleep; The Brotherhood; Letters from Pegasus; The Gift; The Siege Part 1; The Siege Part 2; The Siege Part 3; The Intruder; Runner; Duet; Condemned; Trinity; Instinct; Conversion; Aurora; The Lost Boys; The Hive; Epiphany; Critical Mass; Grace Under Pressure; The Tower; The Long Goodbye; Coup d'Etat; Michael; Inferno; Allies; No Man's Land; Misbegotten; Irresistible; Sateda; Progeny; The Real World; Common Ground; McKay and Mrs. Miller; Phantoms; The Return Part 1; The Return Part 2; Echoes; Irresponsible; Tao of Rodney; The Game; The Ark; Sunday; Submersion; Vengeance; First Strike; Adrift; Lifeline; Reunion; Doppelganger; Travelers; Tabula Rasa; Missing; The Seer; Miller's Crossing; This Mortal Coil; Be All My Sins Remember'd; Spoils of War; Quarantine; Harmony; Outcast; Trio; Midway; The Kindred Part 1; The Kindred Part 2; The Last Man; Search and Rescue; The Seed; Broken Ties; The Daedalus Variations; Ghost in the Machine; The Shrine; Whispers; The Queen; Tracker; First Contact; The Lost Tribe; Outsiders; Inquisition; The Prodigal; Remnants; Brain Storm; Infection; Identity; Vegas; Enemy at the Gate; Ronon Dex; Teyla Emmagan; John Sheppard; Carson Beckett; Elizabeth Weir; Rodney McKay; Jennifer Keller; Samantha Carter; Aiden Ford; Radek Zelenka; Kate Heightmeyer; Evan Lorne; Laura Cadman; Kolya; Chuck; Peter Grodin; Steven Caldwell; Lantea; Ocean; Ancient(s); Richard Woolsey; Athosians; Daedalus; Wraith; Nanites; Asurans; Genii; DHD; SGC; Stargate; Earth; Antarctica; Ascension

 TWIST

“I need you.”; “You have no proof.”; “I’ve waited for this.”; “Fine, I give up.”; “I’m not saying I told you so…”; “Didn’t we already have this conversation?”; “That could have gone better.”; “This is it, isn’t it?”; “There’s no right side to this.”; “It’s so quiet.”; “I swear, it’s not always like this.”; “You keep me safe.”; “The things you make me do…”; “Your information was wrong.”; “I like that in you.”; “Not this again.”; “I’m with you, you know that.”; “This was not part of the plan.”; “I feel strange.”; “That’s what I’m known for.”; “What did I say?”; “No promises.”; “This time, do what I say.”; “Is this supposed to impress me?”; “Do you know what time it is?”; “I’m sure this has never worked, ever.”; “You could have died!”; “I don’t have to explain myself.”; “Why are we whispering?”; “Don’t ruin this.”; “Take me with you.”; Crystal; Suit; Vessel; Knot; Raven; Spirit; Fan; Watch; Pressure; Pick; Sour; Stuck; Roof; Tick; Helmet; Compass; Collide; Moon; Loop; Sprout; Fuzzy; Open; Leak; Extinct; Splat; Connect; Spark; Crispy; Patch; Slither; Risk; Meet-Cute; Amnesia; Age Difference; Pining; Sick Fic; Fake Relationship; Accidental Meeting; Epistolary; Secret Identity; Historical AU; Nightmares; Monster Hunter; A/B/O; Reunion; Soulmates; At Pride; Angst; Seasons; Fix-It; Coffee Shop; Movie Plot AU; Kid Fic; Actor's Other Crossover Work; OT+; Getting Together; Only One Bed; Pirates; Making Up; Forbidden Relationship; Tattoos; Halloween; Prime Directive; Lower Decks / Background Characters; Away Mission; Ship's Bar; Aliens Made Them Do It; Observation Deck; Crew with Family; Holodeck; Science Crew; Character Survives; Headcanons; Diplomacy; Decontamination; Trek Crossover; Replicator; Worldbuilding; Redshirts; Sex / Love Potion; Medical Crew; Transporters; Medbay; Interspecies Relationship; Mirrorverse; Uniforms; Mutiny; Stranded on a Planet; Rec Room; Academy Era; Second Contact; Command Crew; Off-Duty; Soft; Anonymous Sex; Penetration with Object/s; Sleeping; Intercrural Sex; Restraints; In/Under Water; Group Sex; First Time; Possessive Behavior; Dry Humping / Grinding; Overstimulation; Roleplay; Rimming; Stretching / Fisting; Power Imbalance; Food Play; Fingering; Body Worship; Sex Work; Voyeurism / Exhibitionism; Safewords; Technology; Oral Sex; Omorashi / Wetting; Crying; Underwear / Lingerie; Friends with Benefits; Pain Kink; Dirty Talk; Trick or Treat; All trussed up and nowhere to go; Talking is overrated; Sticks and stones may break my bones...; Trust fall; I've got red in my ledger; Touch and go; My spidey-sense is tingling; Coughing up a lung; Rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated; Oops, I did it again; Just keep swimming; It'll be fun, they said; That's gonna leave a mark; Under pressure; Feed a cold, starve a fever; On a need-to-know basis; Field care 101; The doctor is in; Just a scratch; Lost & found; That's where the blood's supposed to be; They made me do it; You break it, you buy it; One down, two to go; You will go down with this ship; “I'm fine, I prom...”; It's (not) just in your head; All work and no play; Digging your grave; Hurt & Comfort; “You have to let go.”; Garotte; Taunting; “Do you trust me?”; Betrayal; Bruises; Helplessness; Pneumothorax; Presumed Dead; Hospital; Adrift; Torture; “This is gonna suck.”; Crush injuries; Delirium; Recovery; “Please don't move.”; “Now smile for the camera.”; Bitten; Trunk; Bleeding through bandages; Cursed; Auction; Self-induced injuries to escape; Escape; Fallen; Passing out; “Good, you're finally awake.”; “You're still not dead?”; Major character death; Disaster zone; Barbed Wire; Choking; Insults; Taken Hostage; Misunderstanding; Touch Starved; Numbness; Exotic Illness; (Blind) Rage; Flare-Up; Drowning; Made To Watch; Burns; Beaten; Fever Dreams; Scars; Hemorrhage; Doctor Visit; Bleeding; Trapped Under Water; Demon; Ransom; Flashback; Flight; Waterfall; Vertigo; Too Weak To Move; Left For Dead; Trauma; Bound; Gagged; “Who Did This To You?”; Pushed; Broken Nose; Hunger; Blindness; “Definitely Just A Cold”; Tears; Ice Chips; Dehydration; Begging; Cauterization; Force; Bees; Aftermath; Dread; Cpr; Stabbing; Solitary Confinement; Blood-Matted Hair; Obsession; Pursuit; Revenge; Hiding; Trap Door; Collapse; Panic; Overworked; Ghosts; Prisoner; Losing Control; Threats; Caning; Mercy; Forgotten; Head Injury; Screaming; Comfort; Self-Sacrifice; Trapped; Near-Death Experience; Regret; Tragedy; Battlefield; Anxiety; Gore; Petplay; Bimbofication; Panties & Lingerie; Bondage; Double Penetration in 2 Holes; Breeding; Humiliation; NTR; Incest; Emeto; Omorashi; Free Use; Crossdressing; Public; Three (or more) some; Daddy & Mommy; Double Penetration in 1 Hole; Distention & Cockbulge; Xenophilia; Shotgunning; Watersports; Pregnancy; Lactation; Waxplay; Grooming; Human Furniture; Feet; Prostituion; MacroMicro; Spanking; Cockwarming; Glory Hole; Somnophilia; Body Modification; Temperature Play; Leather; Size Difference; Sounding; Stockings; Tentacles; Medical Play; Stripping; Orgasm Denial; Master & slave; Scissoring; Titfucking; Frottage; Knifeplay; Formal Wear; Breathplay; Fisting; Pegging; Scat; Beastiality; Fucking Machine; Tickling; Boot Worship; Bukkake; Collaring; Foodplay; Non or dubcon; Feederism; Sensory Deprivation; Oviposition; Clone & Selfcest; Exhibitionism & Voyeurism; Impact Play; Sadomasochism; Bloodplay; Praise Kink; Body Swap; Sweat; Branding; Massage; Role Reversal; Armpit; Masturbation; Inflation; Sex Toys; Burnplay; Menophilia; Stuck in Wall; Deepthroating & Facesitting; Dacryphilia; Hate Sex; Birthday; Sick Day; Autumn; Candles; Plaid / Flannel; Leaf Piles; Sweaters; Baking; Cinnamon; Pumpkin Spice Latte; Carnival; Movie Night; Candy; Graveyard; Black Cats; Goosebumps; Pumpkin; Party; Monster; Witch; Vampire; Traditions; Magic; Mask; Haunted House; Trick; Treat; Costume; Monster Mash; Rising Part 1; Rising Part 2; Hide and Seek; Thirty-Eight Minutes; Suspicion; Childhood's End; Poisoning the Well; Underground; Home; The Storm; The Eye; The Defiant One; Hot Zone; Sanctuary; Before I Sleep; The Brotherhood; Letters from Pegasus; The Gift; The Siege Part 1; The Siege Part 2; The Siege Part 3; The Intruder; Runner; Duet; Condemned; Trinity; Instinct; Conversion; Aurora; The Lost Boys; The Hive; Epiphany; Critical Mass; Grace Under Pressure; The Tower; The Long Goodbye; Coup d'Etat; Michael; Inferno; Allies; No Man's Land; Misbegotten; Irresistible; Sateda; Progeny; The Real World; Common Ground; McKay and Mrs. Miller; Phantoms; The Return Part 1; The Return Part 2; Echoes; Irresponsible; Tao of Rodney; The Game; The Ark; Sunday; Submersion; Vengeance; First Strike; Lifeline; Doppelganger; Travelers; Tabula Rasa; Missing; The Seer; Miller's Crossing; This Mortal Coil; Be All My Sins Remember'd; Spoils of War; Quarantine; Harmony; Outcast; Trio; Midway; The Kindred Part 1; The Kindred Part 2; The Last Man; Search and Rescue; The Seed; Broken Ties; The Daedalus Variations; Ghost in the Machine; The Shrine; Whispers; The Queen; Tracker; First Contact; The Lost Tribe; Outsiders; Inquisition; The Prodigal; Remnants; Brain Storm; Infection; Identity; Vegas; Enemy at the Gate; Ronon Dex; Teyla Emmagan; John Sheppard; Carson Beckett; Elizabeth Weir; Rodney McKay; Jennifer Keller; Samantha Carter; Aiden Ford; Radek Zelenka; Kate Heightmeyer; Evan Lorne; Laura Cadman; Kolya; Chuck; Peter Grodin; Steven Caldwell; Lantea; Ocean; Ancient(s); Richard Woolsey; Athosians; Daedalus; Wraith; Nanites; Asurans; Genii; DHD; SGC; Stargate; Earth; Antarctica; Ascension

[dontmindmyshadowhunting]

Welcome to Faerieland - Fan Fic (last chapters)

Here we go! Last chapters of Welcome to Faerieland.

Link to full story on AO3 here.

*****

Dru and Ash landed a mile or so away from their destination, in order to avoid drawing attention to the location. As soon as their feet touched the ground, the two rocs turned around and disappeared above the treetops.

“I can walk,” Dru said and Ash offered his arm to steady her while she limped toward the general direction of the cottage. She knew it pretty well, it had sort of become a Blackthorns’ country home.

“So how do you know this place?”

“My eldest brother is dating the King of the Unseelie Court, and that’s where they meet sometimes.”

Ash whistled.

“One of your brothers is King Kieran’s lover? I think I heard about him.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty serious, although they won’t ever be able to be official about it. I guess you know what the rules are about faerie royalty’s consorts?”

“I do,” he averted his gaze and brushed a hand through his hair, in what seemed to be a nervous gesture. Dru realized it was the first time Ash had looked uncomfortable about a subject.

“A lot of rules need to be changed,” he said abruptly. “Don’t you agree?” His green eyes bore into her as he said it, as if he was desperate for her approval.

“Well, King Kieran has already been carrying out a lot of changes since he came to power. It’s just that… sometimes, it takes time. You can’t change the world overnight.”

Ash kicked a pebble. “You could, if you didn’t insist on everything being consensual. Maybe King Kieran cares too much about what people think of him... or, you know, in general.” He shrugged but there was a predatory glint in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before, and it almost made her cringe.

“You know, Ash, if what you are looking for in a sovereign is arbitrary decisions and a bitchy attitude, we have the Seelie Queen for that.”

She had expected Ash to laugh, his free, careless laugh - God, she loved it when he did that - but he seemed lost in thought.

She had to admit she had been a bit harsh. She knew the Seelie and Unseelie Courts were in much better terms now that King Arawn was dead. The Queen had appointed the Unseelie Prince Adaon as her most trusted advisor and the two of them and King Kieran met regularly to reinforce the bonds and cooperation between both realms.

Dru started humming a song and Ash paused, his green eyes widening. “Are you singing… Royals ?”

“Yeah, I love that song. Do you know it?”

“I do,” he answered, suppressing a smile.

As they walked, she sang louder - she knew the lyrics by heart - and he watched her with glittering eyes, clearly entertained.

“And we'll never be royals It don't run in our blood That kind of luxe just ain't for us We crave a different kind of buzz Let me be your ruler You can call me queen bee”

“Maybe I will,” he whispered in her ear as he tickled her, and she elbowed him playfully.

He sang along with her then - he had a beautiful tenor voice - both of them throwing their heads back at the same time to howl at the sky “And baby, I'll rule - I’ll rule, I’ll rule, I’ll rule” , like a pair of wolves. They roared with laughter, Dru holding her ribs and leaning against Ash for support. Watching him from the corner of her eye, she marvelled at the fact that she had found a new friend in such a short time.

At the Academy, people either feared her because she was a Blackthorn or wanted to be friends with her simply for that same reason. Or both. She was almost a celebrity, despite herself. Only because of her last name and her eldest brothers’ hand in ending the Cold Peace in the most spectacular way. And of course, there were always the loud-mouthed bigots and moralists who were baffled by the Blackthorns’ ties with the Fair Folk and their so-called “sexual and moral depravity”. The Rosales, of course, suffered the same criticism, and Jaime had always been a comforting shoulder and reliable friend to Dru in those moments where she felt she had had too much to deal with.

She didn’t want to worry Julian, Emma, Mark or even Helen with her troubles making friends at the Academy.

She couldn’t confide in Ty, because he didn’t care at all what people thought, and was content with sticking to his close friends, Livvy and Anush. His teachers, especially Ragnor Fell and Catarina Loss were absolute fans - even if Fell would never admit it - and everyone at the Scholomance was too impressed by his obvious academic superiority - and maybe, the Carpathian lynx tailing him - to dare bother him anyway.

Ash seemed to be far away from all of this, as if he had been living as a hermit in a remote tower, which was probably close to the truth.

He was the only one outside her siblings, with the exception of Jaime of course, to treat her like an ordinary girl.

And maybe, maybe someday Ash could become more than a friend. He was nice, definitely fun, absolutely gorgeous and he had kissed her after all, even though she knew it could be meaningless where faeries were concerned. She had been waiting for Jaime to figure things out for so long, and Ash had appeared out of nowhere and had shown interest without a moment’s hesitation.

She was interrupted in her thoughts as a broad-shouldered silhouette falling from the sky dropped on the ground before them. Dru released Ash’s arm to clap both her hands on her mouth, relief washing over her. Kit, looking as angelic as ever with his bright blue eyes and tousled blond hair, fluttered his white wings tipped with gold as he advanced gleefully to greet Dru.

The reunion was cut short as he was suddenly thrown back by a figure shooting straight into him like a cannonball and from one moment to the next, Kit disappeared into a ball of black and white feathers, rolling on the grass.

It took Dru a moment to realize that Ash had disappeared from her side and that he was actually the one who had attacked Kit. She ran to separate them but soon they were shooting up, caught in a wrestling match a few feet above ground, moving so swiftly they were a blur.

Dru let out a heavy sigh before she put two fingers between her lips and whistled as loud as she could. The two figures froze - they were still grappling each other - and looked down.

“ASH! KIT! Both of you. Get down here! NOW.”

They both looked at each other.

“ASH! What the hell is wrong with you, this is my brother’s boyfriend !” Dru continued, gesturing frantically toward Kit.

Ash released Kit first, grudgingly, and they both landed softly on the floor. There was a long gash across Ash’s cheek but he was grinning like the Cheshire cat, his eyes glittering in excitement. He winked at Dru as he wiped blood from his mouth. Kit was rearranging his hair, looking pissed, and Dru realized that his knuckles were bloody and that there was a small cut on his eyebrow. Both of them seemed otherwise unharmed.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Batman ?” Kit said, glaring at Ash.

“Sorry,” Ash replied, wiping dirt from his shirt. “I took you for a psychopathic jerk who nearly killed me a few years ago. He literally kicked me and my uncle out of the place we used to live in. You look exactly like him.”

“Well, it can’t have been me since last night was the first time I ever saw you,” Kit replied sharply, wiping his bloody knuckles over his shirt.

“Yeah, don’t worry, I figured that out pretty fast. You fight like a pussy compared to him.��

“Want to say that again?” Kit lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Boys, could you please stop comparing the sizes of your dicks, so we can move on?”

Ash and Kit complied, arguing over which Batman movie was best the entire way, until the cottage came into view, a few feet away. The door opened and Jaime came out of it, running toward them.

“Dru,” he cried out. He caught up to her, and threw his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. She lost herself in his familiar and comforting scent and pressed her cheek against his torso. “Mi corazón,” he whispered softly. "We were worried sick. Cómo estás?”

Jaime brushed his hands through Dru’s hair and planted a kiss on her forehead.

She swiftly pulled back, her eyes darting to where Ash was leaning against a tree, talking to Kit, his arms crossed. He was smiling indulgently at her, as if he didn’t mind.

“I am fine, thanks to Ash,” she said, and pulled Jaime over to where Ash and Kit were standing. “Jaime, this is Ash. Ash, this is Jaime,” she introduced, waving her hand awkwardly between the two of them.

“Thank you for taking care of our precious Dru,” Jaime said, extending his hand. “We owe you one.”

“No hay de qué!” Ash replied, shaking his hand.

“Hablas español?” Jaime asked, looking pleasantly surprised.

“Solo a hombres con un excelente gusto en mujeres.” He gave Jaime a wicked grin and looked pointedly at Dru. Jaime’s face fell.

A high-pitched shriek had them whip their heads up in time to see a majestic roc land on the ground, a few feet away. Ty hopped gracefully from the giant bird and walked immediately to Dru. He was pale - even more so than usual - with deep dark circles under his gray eyes, and Dru marvelled at how gorgeous her brother was anyway, whatever state he was in. She sometimes wished she had inherited the same stunningly sharp features. Without a word, Ty knelt in front of Dru and started inspecting her wound.

“Ash, this is my brother Ty,” Dru announced proudly.

Ash started to extend his hand but Dru shook her head at him. He let it fall by his side.

“Ty, this is Ash.”

Tiberius nodded without lifting his gaze.

“Who tended to the wound?”

“I did,” Ash answered.

Ty finally stood - and Dru realized Ash was almost as tall as Ty, which was saying something, since Ty was very tall - and glanced at Ash for the first time, his gray eyes looking down under his long eyelashes and not lifting up from a spot on Ash’s shoulder. “Thanks,” he said curtly.

Hesitantly, Ty put his arms around Dru in one of the rare hugs he had ever granted her. It was awkward and short, but Dru knew it meant Ty had been truly terrified of losing her.

After they released each other, Ty whirled and started walking toward the cottage. He paused after a few steps and glanced over his shoulder. The four of them had just been standing there, staring at him. “Are you coming?”

They all hurried after Ty, Dru having one arm around Ash’s, and the other around Jaime’s.

“So, tell me. Are all your brothers this handsome?” Ash asked her, as he looked Ty up and down appreciatively.

“EXCUSE ME? “ Kit interjected. His whole face had gone bright red in an instant and he started cracking his bloody knuckles. He looked poised for a second round.

“What? Did I say something wrong?” Ash did not seem in the least bit concerned by Kit’s reaction.

“It’s my boyfriend you are talking about.”

“And I just said I found him attractive. Is that in any way offensive?”

Dru laughed. “No,” she said. “I am sure you were simply stating your opinion and not trying to steal Kit’s boyfriend.”

“I am not trying to steal anyone’s lover,” Ash concurred, gazing wistfully at Dru. ”I just admire beauty when I see it”.

“But he would definitely be up for sex if Ty wanted to,” Jaime muttered sarcastically under his breath.

Ash shot him a puzzled look. “Of course, I would. Why not? Kit would be welcome as well, the more the merrier.”

Kit opened his mouth but seemed too much in a shock for a witty comeback. That was a first.

Oddly enough, Dru realized she didn’t feel jealous or baffled by Ash’s statement. He was like an untamed bird breaking out of a cage, unwilling to bend to any rules of propriety. She guessed part of it was due to his fey heritage.

“Mark is the Unseelie King’s lover, the Seelie Queen keeps trying to get into Julian’s pants and now you two,” Jaime said eventually, looking over at Ty and Dru. “What is it with the Blackthorns and the Fair Folk anyway?”

“Probably the exact same thing there is with Blackthorns and any other species,” Ash said evenly.

Everyone turned a questioning look at him.

“They are hot,” he said simply, and shrugged.

Everyone laughed at that.

*****

They were all starving so they decided to have breakfast in the cottage before heading back home.

Kit, wearing an apron that had "Doughnut sandwiches are a proper meal” printed on it (and that probably belonged to Mark Blackthorn), was in the kitchen, scrambling a huge portion of eggs in a large pan with a wooden spoon. He somehow managed to make it look totally hot.

“Eggs?” Ty asked Kit as he came to stand next to him and put a hand on the small of Kit’s back.

“Yeah, I would have cooked pancakes, but we are missing a few ingredients to do that. So it will be eggs. Eggs and fruits. God knows there are plenty of fruits here.”

“You know how to cook pancakes?” Ty asked, his gray eyes widening in surprise.

Kit shot him a shy glance.

“Yeah, I… I asked Julian for his recipe. You know, in case one day I needed to cook for you…r family.”

Kit and Ty both exchanged a look that was so intimate, Jaime had to glance away. He found Ash leaning casually against the fridge, his arms crossed, and gazing at him with a smirk on his face. He looked like he owned the place and hadn’t just popped uninvited into the home of strangers. When Jaime raised a questioning eyebrow at him, Ash unfolded his arms to draw the shape of a heart in the air in front of him. Jaime rolled his eyes. He definitely didn’t like this guy.

They set the table, while Dru was in the bedroom looking for clothes.

Kit and Ty sat next to each other, their fingers intertwined under the table and their backs to the kitchen counter, which left Ash to sit across from Ty and Jaime to sit across from Kit. They had left a spot at the head of the table for Drusilla, who would have Ash on her left and Ty on her right when she came back.

Ty only had fruits on his plate, and he was eyeing Kit gulping his eggs down, as if he was reconsidering having some himself.

“Want to try?” Ash brought his fork to Ty, who flinched as if he had been stabbed.

Kit grabbed Ash’s wrist and pushed the fork away from Ty.

“Ty can use my fork if he wants to try it. He is my boyfriend, after all.”

Ash shrugged. “Yeah, no worries, I think I got that. You can tattoo it on your forehead, it will spare you from having to repeat it to every living soul you encounter on Earth.”

Ash glanced at Jaime, and said in a lower voice, directed only at him. “And it will keep other people from pining for someone they can’t have.”

“Excuse me?” Jaime turned to whisper in Ash’s ear. “What does it have to do with Dru and me?”

“I was not talking about Dru,” Ash whispered back.

They both jerked their heads up, as Dru swooped in from the bedroom then, wearing a beautiful red dress that Jaime remembered having seen on Cristina. It was much tighter on Dru, clinging to her curves and emphasizing her cleavage. Jaime swallowed. He couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on in his head.

Ash immediately stood to draw Dru’s chair and she nodded by way of thanking him. She sat on it as if it was a throne, her chin up.

Jaime glanced over at Ash, who seemed so free about his sexuality, and felt a pang of envy.

“So, what’s your deal, Ash?” Jaime blurted. Ash raised a questioning eyebrow at him. “Are you…” Jaime cleared his throat. “Bixesual?”

A slow grin spread across Ash’s face. “We’ve just met and you’re already trying to fill your fact sheet about me and tick one of your little boxes?”

“I didn’t mean to be rude,” Jaime said, feeling uncomfortable.

“I know you didn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I am not offended by your question,” Ash continued in a gentler voice. “It’s just that… not everyone can fit into little boxes.” He swiftly glanced at Ty when he said it. It was a flicker movement, but lynx-eyed Ty caught it immediately.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Tiberius said. “I am definitely gay.” He slipped half a banana inside his mouth then, totally oblivious of the gesture. Kit and Ash weren’t though. Kit made a noise between a snort and a chuckle and spilled the water he was drinking through his nose and all over his shirt, while Ash almost fell off his chair roaring with laughter. Dru looked at the boys with motherly affection.

Jaime stood and hurried to the kitchen to get a towel to clean the mess. When he turned, Kit was already there, leaning against the kitchen counter, extending his hand and looking at Jaime with a genuine smile that lit up his gorgeous face.

“Thanks, Jaime,” he said, as he grabbed the towel and started padding his shirt with it. The planes of his muscles stood out and could be seen right through the wet fabric.

“No problem,” Jaime mumbled, feeling his heartbeat increasing inside his chest.

He averted his gaze, past Kit, to the table, where Ty and Dru had their heads bent together, caught in a deep conversation.

Ash was peering around Ty, watching Jaime with amusement. When he caught Jaime gazing back, he stuck his tongue inside his cheek, and started moving his fist back and forth in front of his mouth, miming a blowjob.

Jaime resisted the urge to flip him the finger.

****

When breakfast was over, Dru lay sprawled on a sofa, her leg propped on Jaime’s lap, and Ash was examining the sound system, so he could put music on.

Kit and Ty had disappeared. God only knew where.

“So, what was that demon attack in the middle of Faerie about?” Jaime asked.

“Ty has a theory. And you won’t like it,” Dru replied. “He believes the Unseelie prince who held us hostage has made an alliance with a Greater Demon… probably a Prince of Hell.”

Jaime tensed. If Ty believed this, it was very bad news indeed. “So why send an army of demons to attack an ally?”

Dru twirled a lock of her dark brown hair as she replied. “Two options. Either the Prince of Hell discovered that his ally had been exposed and wanted to silence him. Or… or we will soon be caught in the middle of an internal war between the Princes of Hell.”

“You mean… there might be more than one involved?”

“To quote Ty, evidence makes it more likely than not,” Dru replied, imitating her brother’s voice. Jaime felt dread wash over him.

He gently put Dru’s leg on an armrest and excused himself.

Sometimes, he felt so anxious it was all he could do not to curl up in a corner and wait for his chest pain and dizziness to fade. The mission he had carried out a few years back, where he had to stay hidden all the time, never staying in one place, had made him jumpy, poised for any threat. He didn’t want Dru to see that side of him. For her, he could only be the calm and reliable friend she was used to.

He decided to scout the rest of the cottage for an empty room. There was a corridor - leading to a bathroom? more bedrooms maybe? - on the left side of the main suite’s door.

He went through and just as he turned around a corner... stopped short.

Halfway down the corridor, Ty was leaning with his back against the wall and Kit had his hands propped on either side of him, trapping Ty in a cage of his arms… and they were kissing.

Jaime had never seen two men kissing before and he was surprised to see how tender and sweet it looked. Ty was running his long pale fingers in Kit’s blond hair while the other hand rested on the small of Kit’s back, half of it concealed under Kit’s waistband.

Kit was naked from the waist up and Jaime could see all the tanned muscles in his back contract as he deepened the kiss, eliciting soft moans from the Blackthorn boy.

They were beautiful together, two opposites inevitably drawn to each other, their bodies fitting perfectly like yin and yang.

Jaime felt his whole body react, with a familiar flutter around his stomach and heat rushing up his cheeks. He knew he should not be watching, but he couldn’t get himself to tear his gaze away.

Kit broke the kiss to trace the dark Marks swirling up Ty’s neck with the tip of his tongue. Ty’s gray eyes fluttered open and he caught sight of Jaime. His intense gaze didn’t waver. He didn’t even seem surprised or angry. He simply raised an eyebrow at Jaime as if to say Can I help you with something ?

Jaime hastily retreated to the living room.

He found Ash’s lean figure perched on the wide low table at the center of the room, dancing to the blasting sound of Beyoncé’s Single Ladies and singing along. “If you like it, you should have put a ring on it,” actually sounded very good in his velvety voice. He was twisting, hands on his hips, and throwing his legs up like a professional, while making dramatic faces at Dru, who was sprawled on the sofa, howling with laughter. As he brushed his lips with his finger, licking it and started caressing his torso while throwing his head back, shaking his beautiful silvery hair, he managed to make it look erotic and not ridiculous at all. Jaime had to admit… His moves were perfect, fluid, coordinated and he totally… pulled it off. Annoying jerk.

“Having fun without me?” Kit burst into the room - he was, fortunately, wearing a shirt this time - and immediately hopped on the table to join Ash and one could not imagine they had been wrestling less than an hour before.

When Dru caught Jaime watching them, she patted the spot on the sofa next to her and he moved to drop beside her, throwing his arm around her shoulders.

The music had changed to Rihanna’s S&M and Ash and Kit were dancing together as if they had rehearsed for hours, their dance steps coordinated and smooth. They looked like two lifelong best buddies who could guess each other’s moves. They were pulsing with energy, although obviously neither of them had slept the previous night. Ash made a show of licking Kit’s cheek, and Kit pushed him away, grimacing. When Ash arched his back to rub his buttocks against Kit’s crotch and Kit spanked him, Dru wiped tears from her eyes. Jaime imagined what it would be like to go to a nightclub with the both of them. They would most likely steal the show.

As if on cue, the next song was… Stole the show, by Kygo. As they danced close together in perfect synchrony, Jaime noticed for the first time the similarities between Ash and Kit. Though Ash was all pale, white blond hair and alabaster skin, and Kit was all golden hair and tanned muscles, there was something about their facial features, the planes of their cheeks, the lines of their jaws… They did not look like brothers, but they could easily pass for cousins.

Jaime grabbed a Hot Shadowhunters calendar that had been left on the side table and started flipping through the pages. Looking at the January page featuring Jace Herondale, he wondered why everyone said Kit was like a mini Jace when Jaime could clearly see there was a difference, now that Kit had grown into more adult features. At least to Jaime, Kit’s fey heritage was plain.

When the music changed to Charlie Puth’s Marvin Gaye, Jaime turned his head to find Ty leaning against the kitchen counter and watching the two dancers with a bemused expression, his arms crossed over his chest.

He eventually caught Kit’s eye, lifted a questioning eyebrow, and jerked his head toward the bedroom door. Kit stumbled from the table in his hurry to join Ty and followed him out of the living room and through the main bedroom door, which shut behind them.

*****

Kit jumped on the huge threesome bed as soon as they were inside the bedroom. He felt exhilarated, full of adrenaline and restless energy, and he wanted Ty so much that he was certain he would spontaneously combust if they didn’t share their bodies within the next minute.

He shot Ty a smoldering look as he lounged on the thick mattress, twisting his shoulders seductively while singing along to Charlie Puth’s Marvin Gaye, which was blasting through the thin walls.

“We got this king-size to ourselves Don't have to share with no one else Don't keep your secrets to yourself It's Kama Sutra show and tell, yeah”

Ty had folded his arms against his chest and was shaking his head, as if he didn’t know what to make of this misbehaving boy.

“Kit, you interrupted me earlier when I was trying to have a serious conversation. Will you please let me finish this time?”

"I'm in trouble." Kit continued, clapping a hand over his mouth in a dramatic oops gesture. "But I'd love to be in trouble with you."

Ty rolled his eyes. He didn’t seem ready to play along with Kit, so Kit finally stood and grabbed Ty's upper arms, forcing him to back up until he had him pinned against the wall. He started wiggling his hips, rubbing against Ty, his body swaying to the music.

“You've got to give it up to me I'm screaming, "Mercy, mercy, please!" Just like they say it in the song Until the dawn, let's Marvin Gaye and get it on.”

Kit slipped a hand under Ty’s waistband, straight into his boxer shorts, and whispered “Hello there” as he brushed his lips against Ty’s ear.

“Kit…” Ty said sharply, as a warning, though Kit could hear his breathing was uneven.

“Ty,” Kit replied with all the seriousness he could muster. “When I saw you riding that Shinigami demon carrying a crossbow, I was so turned on it was all I could do not to jump your bones there and then.”

Ty laughed softly. “It appears you have a kink involving me wielding dangerous weapons. Maybe I should bring a claymore to bed next time and threaten you with it.”

“Honey, you know that, as far as I am concerned, you carry the deadliest weapon around with you at all times,” Kit started stroking Ty’s length as if to illustrate his point. It hardened under his touch. Good, we’re heading somewhere. "I was talking about your brain of course," Kit added.

“Kit, listen to me.” Ty grabbed Kit’s wrist and pulled it out of his pants. Kit groaned. “Haven’t you noticed anything strange about Ash?”

That caught Kit’s attention. He had not expected Ash to be the subject of their conversation. He had actually hoped to avoid any kind of conversation altogether. For a little while at least.

“Well, I noticed he is an amazing fighter and dancer. I am totally up for challenging him again, either in a training room or on a dancefloor.” There was something about Ash and him fighting and dancing together, a raw yet steady energy, not like the restlessness and all consuming love he felt around Ty, but something grounding him, making him even more focused. As if he had found a kindred warrior spirit.

“He probably has no effect on you, but… I think spells have been worked on him to render him… likeable. People are inevitably drawn to him, want to protect and follow him.”

Kit swallowed, suddenly deadly serious. “Does this… work on you?”

“No. And I have several theories about that. First… Well, I am a bit different. My brain doesn’t work the same way others’ do. Second, the Blackthorns have a bit of Greater Demon blood, even if it is quite diluted. I do believe Dru genuinely likes him.”

“You mean from your ancestor Lucie Herondale?”

Ty nodded. “And the third and most important explanation is… you. You have my full loyalty.” He rested his forehead against Kit’s. “There is no way in hell I am following him, when I could follow you. ”

Kit brushed his lips over Ty’s.

“What about Jaime? He seems to dislike Ash.”

“I am still trying to figure this out. But it may be one of the reasons I am immune to it, myself.”

“What? You think the Rosales have Greater Demon blood as well?”

“Maybe. But that’s not what I was referring to.”

They were both interrupted when they heard voices raising in the living room. Jaime’s voice was the loudest. And he sounded totally pissed.

Ty hurried toward the door, and Kit followed.

****

As soon as Kit and Ty had disappeared behind the bedroom door, Ash jumped over Dru and Jaime’s heads to land behind the sofa and stole the Hot Shadowhunters calendar from Jaime’s hands. “Hey!” Jaime cried out.

Ash circled back and dropped himself next to Dru, which left her crammed between him and Jaime. As he flipped to the first page, the January page, Ash froze. He was gaping at the picture of Jace Herondale, as if he could not quite believe his eyes.

Falling for Jace Herondale, already? What a surprise.

But oddly, Ash didn’t smile or make a sarcastic comment, as Jaime would have expected. He had a sorrowful expression and a faraway look.

“This is Jace Herondale,” Dru said softly. “Surely, even you have heard of him ?”

Ash swallowed. “Yeah,” he said absently. “Yeah, I have. He looks… happy.”

“Well, of course, he is happy. He has it all, hasn’t he?” Jaime said. “War hero. Married to the love of his life. The Consul as faithful parabatai.” Ash flinched, as if each word was a needle to his skin.

“Ash, is everything okay?”

Ash shook his head as if to clear it.

“Yeah, yeah, I was just thinking about… the butterfly effect. How a single human being’s existence… or absence, can change the course of things… can change the whole world.”

Where the hell did that come from? Jaime wondered.

Ash lifted his gaze to stare at the door where Kit and Ty had disappeared. “Take Kit for instance. Who knew it would only take a hot boyfriend to turn a ruthless, bloodthirsty ruler into a harmless kitten.”

“Er- Ash, I am not sure I am following you,” Dru said gently. “What do you mean?”

Ash let out a heavy sigh and slumped back, crossing his long arms behind his head, the Hot Shadowhunters calendar left at the January page on his lap.

“Nothing, I am rambling.” It looked like he was lost in his thoughts again.

Jaime seized the opportunity to whisper in Dru’s ear. “Dru, can we find some place private to… talk?”

Dru gazed at him with a puzzled look on her face. “Sure. What do you want to talk about?”

Jaime didn’t get a chance to answer as the entrance door rattled at that moment and they both whipped their heads in the direction of the noise.

The door opened and Mark Blackthorn, all tousled blond hair, pointy ears and flushed cheeks, erupted inside the cottage, wearing ragged jeans and a white shirt with a message that stated, “All good things come in threes”. He paused, as if he didn’t really expect to see so many people in his living room.

Jaime immediately withdrew his arm from Dru’s shoulders and stood, but soon registered that Mark was not looking at him… He was staring at Ash who had, from one moment to the next, leapt on the table in front of them and was crouched on top of it, ready to pounce, a dangerous glint in his ice green eyes. He had moved to protect Dru from a potential threat, Jaime realized. And there was no trace of the Ash that had been goofing around with Kit a moment before. The feeling that he had been played like a fool until then hit Jaime like a freight train. They had all fallen for Ash’s laid-back, good guy act. In one instant, Ash had revealed his true, predatory nature…

“Mark!” Dru waved from the sofa, unfazed. “You already know Jaime of course and this is Ash,” she introduced. “Ash… this is my brother Mark.”

Ash relaxed from his stance and leapt off the table, flashing a bright smile and wearing his cool guy mask back on. As if he hadn’t been ready to rip Mark’s throat a second before. The abrupt change in Ash's behaviour almost gave Jaime a whiplash.

“Have we… met before?” Mark asked, looking at Ash with his brows furrowed as he closed the door.

“In any event, I wish to be properly introduced,” Ash said, evading the question. “I am Dru’s boyfriend.”

“Excuse me?” Dru interjected at the same time Jaime exclaimed “WHAT?”

Ash shrugged. “I thought our make out session had settled it.”

Jaime felt heat rush up his face. He whirled on Dru. “We’ve known each other for three years and you’ve known this guy for what? Less than twelve hours? And you’ve already kissed him?”

“To be fair, I am the one who kissed her ,” Ash said in a calm voice. “She didn’t tell me to stop, though.” He paused, his long fingers stroking his delicate chin as he pondered. “Then again, how could she have, what with my tongue being down her throat and all?”

“Ash, don’t intervene,” Dru said, her already white complexion growing paler by the second. “This is not between us.”

“Really?” Ash answered in a fake shocked expression. “I could have sworn it was my tongue down your throat.”

“What’s going on here?” Ty asked as he came out of the bedroom, followed by Kit.

“GREAT!” Jaime said. “That’s just my luck! We’re just missing Julian and…”

“And?” Julian asked, his tall broad-shouldered figure appearing in the entrance. He froze in the doorway, hand on the doorknob, his face a mask of shock as his blue-green eyes swept across the room.

“... And all my worst nightmares are reunited in the same room. OK, let’s be done with it.”

Jaime took a deep breath and caught each of the Blackthorn brothers’ gaze, one after the other.

“I. FANCY. DRU. OKAY? I like her. I know she’s sixteen, but we are good together and I want her to be my girlfriend.”

*Cough* “ Too late.” *Cough* That was Ash. Dru turned to glare at him.

“Well, that’s not even relevant anymore, is it? Since apparently… She prefers Legolas, here.” Jaime continued, waving his hand toward Ash.

“Why does everyone keep saying that? I don’t even look like him.”

“Lego-who?” Ty asked, puzzled.

“He’s talking about Ash. Don’t worry honey, I’ll explain,” Kit said, speaking for the first time.

“And what the hell are you doing here?” Julian asked, turning toward Kit, a flicker of panic crossing his features.

“He just came out of the bedroom with Ty,” Mark said.

Kit lifted both his hands in surrender. “I wasn’t having sex with him,” he blurted. “I mean… not this time.” His face went red. “I mean- I am out of here. If anyone’s looking for me, I’m in the bedroom.” He whirled and paused in front of the bedroom door, his hand on the knob. “Not having sex with anyone...” he specified before he disappeared behind it.

Julian heaved a sigh and turned his gaze back to Ash.

Ash gulped. He looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights, his green eyes wide.

“This is not the end of it. But first things first. Can anyone tell me what the hell Ash Morgenstern is doing here?”

They had barely registered the question, when a sharp cry from behind Julian had them all jump. A slender figure peered around him, red hair like flames flowing over a green velvet dress embroidered with gold. Jaime had seen enough drawings and pictures of her to recognize her instantly. The Seelie Queen.

She pushed Julian aside and ran to Ash, throwing her thin pale arms around him and burying her face in his chest, the golden circlet around her head tipping to the side as she did. “Where were you last night? I came to the house, and it was empty . I have been looking for you everywhere since!”

Dru was staring at Ash open-mouthed. He shot her an apologetic look.

“Mom, let me introduce you to Dru. Dru…” Ash cleared his throat. “Meet my mom.”

*****

Tagging @gabtapia ❤️ Hope you'll enjoy it and, of course, don't hesitate to correct my spanish ;)

[lethimrunsonia]

I was tagged by @blueeyedrichie and @ull-float-too thank you all so much! <3333 I love you both!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag some of your favourite authors

all of these except like one or two are rated explicit btw, These are in tandem with @kitchen-witch-bitch and I gave up and didn’t do 20 LMAO I did 11 and got bored I’m sorry

Reddie First Time/ Part of AU / reddie

Richie pulled the moving van full of not only his and Eddie's things, but also Ben and Bev's, into the parking spot of a moderately nice hotel in Boston. It was cold, and even with the heater on, Richie was shivering a bit. Eddie let out a tiny snore and Richie melted, staring at his boyfriend's eyelashes and dimples. They were halfway to New York City, halfway to a new life where they'd never have to hide again.

untitled/ Part of AU / bevchie

Richie definitely had a Bev meter, and it had many gadgets and charts, so he knew what Bev needed when she needed it.

She had been snippy with everyone, and Eddie had offered that everyone should just leave her be. Maybe if she has said she needed to be alone, he’d agree. But Bev had instead just been atrociously grumpy.

untitled/ Part of AU / Reddbrough (Richie/Eddie/Bill)

“You little brat,” Eddie shouted, skidding across the wooden floor and dashing after Bill, who, Richie thought morosely, was doomed because Eddie was muscular and still liked to run and Bill liked to punch the punching bag in the garage. He lazily followed his boys into their room where Bill was on one side of the mattress, and Eddie cornered him on the other. “You little shit, I’m gonna—“ 

“What, tickle me? Kiss me?” Bill shouted, obviously delighted and jumpy. 

untitled/ Part of AU / stenbrough

Bill didn't bother with bringing in his suitcases--the bags from his two week trip could wait until he wasn't so tired he was ready to fall over, or so hungry his tummy was growling like a fucking bear. He grabbed his backpack (couldn't just leave his laptop in the car, could he?) and took the steps two at a time until he was inside, shoving his backpack in his cubby and making a beeline for Stan.

Warmth / Part of AU / steddie

Eddie couldn't believe his luck. He was home at the same time Stan was, at a decent hour, when they were both wide awake and happy. They'd spent the evening together making dinner and desserts (Eddie may or may not have gotten flour on Stan's nose on purpose, but come on, Stan was just so precious and Eddie wanted to see it, okay?) and now they were settled on the couch, with Eddie curled up on Stan's lap as they watched cute animal videos on the discovery channel.

untitled / Part of AU / trashstack

Ben was normally very good at waiting for opportunities to strike and then seizing them. Rarely did he force situations to occur. But he had a mighty need. He was about to force a...situation. Ben knew that the first thing Richie would want to do when he got home from his meeting was plop into bed, and Ben, he guessed, would allow that. But it would be his bed. Stan had been more than willing to spend the night with Bill and Eddie, who had been delighted to welcome him into their giant bed that Ben was only slightly jealous of. 

untitled / Part of AU / kaspbrough

Eddie stared at question 47 until he was sure there was a mistake because the answer he was supposed to get for this math homework was just...not happening. He heard Bill rustle around the doorway, and when Eddie perked up and looked at him, he saw him get shy and start to shift away. “Oh, don’t go, pretty Billy.” He cooed after him, pushing his chair back roughly, only vaguely wincing at the screech of the wood. “You came to visit me? Say hello?”

untitled fic / Part of AU / stanscom

He had no idea what time it was when he started to pull out another big sheet of paper for a new project because, well, he was on a roll, may as well. A gentle throat clearing startled him, causing him to spin around from his spot at his and Stan’s shared desk that sat in front of the window in their room. 

"Oh, hey baby," he said, giving Stan a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I didn't know you were home. Come here?"

Stan’s eyebrow raised towards the ceiling. “Hey baby, you missed dinner,” he said, looking partially worried and partly soft. “Finally felt a little better, birdie?” He glanced at the paper in his boyfriend’s hands and clicked his tongue in disagreement. “Honey...you’ve done more than enough today,” he tried coming up to Ben and saddling up next to him. 

untitled / Part of AU/ stozier

Stan stomped up the stairs and down the hallway, about ready to either jump Richie's bones or throttle him for introducing Bill to this, without telling Stan he wanted it. He threw open Richie's door and slammed it shut behind him, locking it before turning around and crossing his arms.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Were the first words out of Stan's mouth, quickly followed by, "Bill told me! Bill! And you didn't!"

untitled / Part of AU / hanbrough

Bill wandered into the living room, rubbing at his eyes. He had been in front of the computer for hours, and when he was finally so hungry he could no longer stand it, he decided to hunt for something to eat. He waved at Mike and was going to go into the kitchen, but something stopped him. Mike didn't look okay. Bill frowned and changed direction, padding over to Mike and plopping into his lap. "What's the matter, Mikey?"

Six Different Ways / complete / Poly!Losers

Queen Bee: Hi loves

Queen Bee: I'm most definitely not ordering hair dye online to quarantine dye my hair

Queen Bee: January Embers? Yall ain't met her

untitled / Part of AU / Marshalon (Mike and Bev)

Beverly, as it turned out, really liked topping. And Eddie had told her something very interesting after she pegged him for the first time--dropped a hint that Mike might like this, too. 

So when Mike came home with a look on his face that very obviously gave away the bad day he had, she decided now was as good a time as any. 

"Hey, baby." She said softly as he plopped onto the couch next to her. She moved so she was in his lap, straddling him. "You okay?" She asked, giving him a sweet kiss hello.

i’ll tag:  anyone else feel free to do this and say i tagged you!!! <3

[punkandsnacks]

Between Wolves & Doves, Chapter Twelve; Storm.

Author: @punk-in-docs​ & @adamsnackdriver​

Also on AO3-  

Masterlist-

Trigger Warnings: !!! illness and swooning in this chapter, I mean, seriously, a regency era fic isn’t a regency era fic without the heroine getting caught in a rainstorm-!!!

Synopsis: Vampire!Kylo x OC love story. Inspired by BBC’s Dracula. Also inspired by Austen’s Pride & Prejudice.

He’s been stalking this earth long since civilizations can possibly fathom. Before records even began. He sneers at the fact that this pitiful young world has only just begun to see his reign of it.

He’s dined with moguls, emperors, princes. He’s consorted with bloodthirsty ruthless Queens in their courts, and whispered into the ears of powerful King’s, whose names still echo through millennia.

In his myriad of centuries gifted to his immortal self he’s been many many things. He’s been a lowly pauper. A crusading knight. An assassin. A sell sword. A soldier. A wanderer. A simpering suitor and a voracious unyielding lover. Aimlessly lost in time- besieging this earth. Ripping it apart and drinking what’s left.

He was made in the hinterland between snow and dirt and pine trees. Crusted with ash and blood and gouged from battle. Born anew. Sired from the hell-mouth of war. He was made in 789 AD.

He’ll come undone, one bitter winter night, in England, in 1816.

                                                       ~ ~ 🥀  ~ ~

She’d never been more grateful to slam a door behind her in all her life. The sigh that leaves her lips when she presses her back to the wood is the largest she’s ever taken, she’s certain of it.

 She had to escape. It was a necessity of sorts- she couldn’t suffer another second of it.

 Mother was livid about last night. Iris had been frozen out of her favour - more so than usual - with frosty silences and glowers and glares of displeasure.

 When she returned from her shocking interlude out of doors with Lord Ren and the sadly ex-Viscount Eversleigh, Caroline tugged Iris aside and snapped her ear off about decorum and politesse. She returned to Hux’s side and said naught. She couldn’t.

 Her mind was overrun by visions of crimson stained fangs, scarlet on ivory bone. And eye’s as gold as wheat sparkling in the sun.

 She barely felt the rest of her night. Or saw or heard her relatives around her. She drew into herself.

 Lord Ren did not return for the second half. Hux crowed loudly and smug about his absence. Mother sneered, she too seemed pleased. Iris saw none of that.

 The night passes and the next day her head is still splitting at the seams. Pain thudding behind her temples and out her ears. Her throat is tickling raw. She suspects a cold coming on. Yet she goes about her chores and errands same as usual. There’s a permanent gnawing ache gathering between her shoulder blades. It burns every time she moves.

 Mother seemed determined to remind her of her discourtesy last night. When her, Flora and Posy all sit down to take tea in the front parlour and do their embroidery, Caroline besieged Iris to write a missive to Hux apologising for her conduct of late. To explain herself and her actions. Sacrificing, displaying herself out on the worshipping altar of Hux’s forgiveness.

 Iris couldn’t see the sense in it. She’s sat there squinting down in her lap, trying to focus on stitching more infernal thread through the embroidery hoop. Her mother is snapping and fussing and correcting her every cursed move. She’s insulting and sniping and Iris can’t take much more.

 She was most insulted that Lord Ren had quit the theatre early especially when he was invited at a proxy invitation. She scoffs that that’s his foreign mannerisms that don’t excuse his rudeness. Probably took off with one of the ‘actresses.’ They were all painted women. He most likely found amusement between a tawdry, painted woman’s thighs.

 Iris’s heart sinks at the untrue insinuation. She’s also suffering after a very much sleepless night after the discovery of Lord Rens... particular disposition.

 She spent half the night awake; her mind whirring with thought. All those tales and fibs she’d been fed as child about monsters under the bed. And here she is many many years later, as a woman, finding out that all the creatures in clawing dark nightmares do exist.

The darkest shadows do after all bear beasts.

 She can’t help wondering what other demons might roam hereabouts? Other horrid things too frightful to utter.

 Mother doesn’t stop her poisonous crusade of nastiness on Kylo.

 Before long, Iris’ eyes are watering with the sharp pains of her head. Her heart is beating so hard it hurts - thrumming proud with the constrained want to defend Lord Ren as she sits there ripping him to shreds and goading Hux’s perfect conduct upon her.

 Iris throws her needlework aside and storms out. Insists she going for a lie down. She tears across the room and shuts the parlour door. Hot tears dribble out the corners of her eyes. Stings at her skin.

 She stands there- and as she does, looking into the foyer, right at the coatrack. Her need to flee is looking better and better.

 She dons her bonnet and shabby coat and before she can fully know what she’s doing, before she can even stop herself, she’s going. She needs actions and she needs fresh air. Much good a walk would do her. She slips down to the kitchens and is out the back door before even a kindly warning from their nice natured cook could halt her actions.

 They heard Caroline’s vile shouts and screeches. Slamming of doors. And now they see her fleeing in tears. It wasn’t any grand difficulty to piece together all that had passed.

 Iris wanted to slam doors. To hit things with her balled up fists. To kick and claw and scream about how much her suffocating life was mauling all capacity for happiness out her. She wants to rip things apart til her fingers bleed. Til her bones ache.

 As it stands, her neck hurts with the strain of her clenched tight teeth, grit hard. Her back is shuddering with pinched complaint. She hardly comprehends how enraged she is; how fast her legs are stalking her away into the gardens. Up into the woods.

 Her throat is raw and her head is pounding. She shouldn’t be out of doors in a thin dress and coat and in her sorry state. But staying in that wretched parlour was not an option.

 She’s so préoccupée she doesn’t even turn her head to look at the wicked sky churning behind her storming path. The weather upon the horizon was turning most foul indeed.

 The air above the wood is heavy and dark. Black as a fresh bruise. It fully pierced the sky’s colour. The wind whips viciously cold and that’s how she knows rain is lurking not far off. Everything is so still and the woods are damp with snow that the rain will pelt away. This was the deep breath before the plunge. The whole landscape is waiting. Perching on a razors edge.

 Every tree is poised and even the birds have quieted. It’s as if every creature has fled from the threat of the violent storm. Iris is the only one oblivious.

 She treads on onto the woods. Needing distance. Needing quiet. Needing to hear nothing and feel nothing but her feet shaking from her footsteps pounding the dirty damp earth. Sinking into the leaves and the mush and crunch of the foliage on the woodland floor.

 She wants to move and flee and be somewhere else where she doesn’t feel so crushed.

 Her lungs heave dry where she’s running and gasping for breath. Throat sore with the cold air. Chest ice cold from where she hasn’t buttoned up her coat. She feels everything burning at her skin. Making her clammy where the icy winds scrape over her as she soldiers on.

 She lets the surroundings soothe her. Tries to let the calm of peaceful woodland soak into her mind. Let it pierce the tempest of her quaking soul. The meat and tissue of her flesh that feels like she’s being ripped apart piece by piece. She feels gouged and compressed by all the pressure she’s under. It’s too much. She thought she could bear it nobly but she’s not strong-her back is breaking.

 She crumbles into the nearest tree. Let’s it take her weight and keep her standing.

 She tears off her infernal bonnet and jams her brow against the wood. Taking deep lungfuls of air spiced with the fragrances of the wood. Wet bark, dewy sweet grass and the mucky mud of earthy leaves rotting under the grip of domineering snow.

 She feels her breath ghost out her lips. Feels it chill and dry her parched mouth. She lets more tears fall. Just for a second. Before she has to button up her coat and return to her trap of a life. Shut the sweet song-dove back into their dismal stifling little birdcage.

 That’s when she feels it- a raindrop.

 It pats heavily down upon her head. Cold and harsh like a sudden strong bee sting, out of nowhere.

 She presses a hand to the tree and looks to the heavens. Where all is smoke black and dismal grey. Clouds seethe and roil up above the treetops. Raindrops shimmer between the tall trees. Iris feels more patter down. Striking down her cheek. A stab of rolling ice. More follow it.

 She looks across the woods as the patters turn to downpours. The clouds part like a cracked grey eggshell and the heavens pour and flood out.

 Chilling heavy rain now hammers everywhere around her. In her hasty fit to get away from home, between the blurred nature of her tears and her looking down, she doesn’t entirely realise she has walked herself miles.

 Miles upon miles- she’s almost in the next county even. She’s in the tall dark woods near large country estates. Unfortunately no house she’s near, is anyone of her acquaintance. She can’t beg at the door for shelter from the storm.

 She shoves her bonnet back on. A valiant attempt to keep her head dry. Tied up the soggy blue ribbon under her chin. It now sits there limp. Flopping uselessly. Dripping water down onto her chest.

 She buttons up her coat and thankfully finds her grey calfskin gloves in her pocket. She slips the things on her numb hands. The material clings and sticks dreadfully to her reddened palm. She’s trembling with cold before long.

 She curses herself. Bitterly. “Stupid. Idiotic, foolish and thoughtless...” She yelps loudly when her shoe catches on a tree root and sends her sprawling to the wet earth. She lands hard on her elbow and bashed her shins on the knotted roots of the unyielding tree.

 Dizzy with pain she hisses and heaves herself up. Mud oozes up between her clawed fingers. Her knees stab the earth as she scrambled up. Her coat now befouled with great splotches of claggy mud.

 The wind whips up terribly. Thrashing the whole forest with rain. Thrashing her too. Her coat catches to her wet skirts. Hem damp with sticky mud and wet. A chill slides down her back. Treacherous weather sneaking under her collar and soaking down between her shoulder blades.

 She seized the two sides of her coat tighter about herself and pressed on. Where she stomps and runs through puddles, wet mud and cold cold rain splashed up her legs. It already bled through her cracked boots and her stupidly thin stockings. Her feet are freezing and she has lost sensation in her hands already.

 She hasn’t made it more than a matter of yards and she’s already soaked through to her skin-Hell. To her bones.

 She’s trying not to quiver too much. Make her body concentrate on stepping her out the wide open woods that offer little cover. Maybe she can find a sturdy squat tree to shelter under somewhere?

 She heads for the muddied little track of the lane she can see far up ahead. It cuts a carved path of worn dirt through the woods. She knows that lane is betwixt two estates.

 She sadly had walked too far to remember which two. It could be Lord Havisham’s land. And he was famously an old curmudgeon who was damnably strict about who he let wander on the barest fringes and borders of his vast property.

 A soaking wet idiot girl from the village was not a preferred sparkling vision of a desirable houseguest.

 She shambles onto the road. Earth sinking soggy beneath her soles. Arms wrapped around herself. Grazes stinging her arms from her earlier fall. She huddled tighter to herself to stop the shaking. It didn’t help. Her whole body wracks viciously with it.

 She feels shame creep up her spine. Slithering flushed and awful into her blood. She’d been a over-reactive fool. Running out blind into a storm of all things. She trudges along the sticky muddy road. Now the rain is pelting so hard, it’s sneaking through her straw bonnet. Even her brain feels like it’s shaking. Rattling inside her skull like some fevered thing desperate to be let loose.

 She slips quickly along to the next field. The long grass tears at her skirts. Claws more dew drops at her wool coattails. Leaves and blades of grass grip at the wool. She kicks through the long thrashing grass and wildflowers.

 Boots wrapped within the clinging long vines. She makes it to the slippery wood style, heaves her leg over the thing. She hears her white cotton dress snag and tear on the nails punctured into the wood. She rips her skirts away. She doesn’t have the capacity at present to be saddened over that instance.

 She balances her numb hand on the wooden post as she swings her leg over. She’s trembling so much she nearly falls again. Somehow she manages to keep upright a little longer. Her knees now knock together and each shivering step weakens her legs. Her muscles are all sore and burning.

 She treads carefully though these woods. As the gradient is steep. The forest spills down a tumbling hill. By the time she gets to the bottom of the muddy slope, her bones ring with the effort. She pauses to catch her breath against the nearest tree.

 She trips over rocks in the path, sends her sprawling on her front again. She yelps and winces at the pain that bursts through her.

 And this time she can barely stand. Instead easing herself onto her hands and knees. She groans. She wills her stupid body to work. She sobs tears of frustration and they don’t even feel warm on her face. She tries so hard to crawl. She would crawl home on bleeding hands and knees if she must-

 She watches the grey haze of rain pass over the brown-green wood before her. It shatters hard off every leaf and douses every trunk of every tree. She hears the loud drum of it swim in her ears. She’s so cold now and senseless. Her coat feels heavy. Her arms are too tired to lift. As are her legs.

 Heavy. Heavy. So heavy.

 She sags into the soggy earth. On her side. Absolutely drenched in mud and hammered by rain. Her bonnet saves most her hair from the mud. But she feels long wet coils of it, where her coiffure is dishevelled, seep onto the earth. Burdensome and damp. Wringing wet and now stuck with leaves and muddy forest debris.

 She must look frightful. Laying here in the dirt. And even her bones are shivering. Every cell of her vibrates with cold.

 Iris wonders if she’ll die here- slipping into a nice, deep sleep. Quivering herself into an early grave.

 Like drowning. Only softer. Less strenuous. She doesn’t have to kick and fight the waves or currents. She can look up at at the sky or the tips of the trees that rain blazed between. Raindrops sting and bash at her eyes. Rolling down her pale cheeks like the tears she can’t manage anymore. The sky cries for her.

 She would’ve liked to have seen the night sky - all those stars and the full moon - one last time. But she is not so lucky as to be the one fated with control over her own death.

 She watches the woods til her exhausted eyes swell shut. Lashes wet. Sticks to her face. Her body seized up. Even breathing seemed to ache too much. It’s too sharp. Too much effort.

 Her lips were almost now as blue as her coat. And she doesn’t care anymore. About anything. About anyone. She can’t. She’s tired. She’s far too tired- this seems like a good peace. A good soft ending.

 Death could either be so ineffectual or violently unfair for a woman. She’d either fade away as a decrepit old bat with barely a teaspoons measure of wit left in her head. Drift away in her sleep very hushed, and then she’s forgotten. Some other paranoid mad old crone who gets shut up forever in her wooden box in the ground.

 Or in childbirth. Maybe that what would be the thing to take her. Aching and yelling and sweating, Swelled with fever. Drained from blood. Bleeding her life away whilst she’s split open and raw between her legs and some ugly squat pink infant wails for her from its crib.

 This way seems far kinder- a mercy, really. They’ll put her in a stiff little box, cover it with unscented white flowers and bury her in the Pembleton chapel graveyard. Down in the soil with the other bones of the dead, and the moss and the worms. People would say it was a tragedy; but her loved ones may take comfort in the fact she died doing her duty by her husband.

 Such a miserable thought. Rotting away to a skeleton in the hot box in the sweat of earthy soil. The sun bleaching down. The rain soaking in. The frost stiffening her. It seems like such a still eternity when her life has always been busy.

 Better it’s her. Now mother can have the exuberant Posy to pin her hopes and demands on. The second eldest sister. The flirty one who tries harder. The weight will finally be lifted off her own shoulders.

 It will settle in the ground with her and spill and seep, and bleed into the soil. Her worries will fade as surely as her head will decay away to dust.

 A great snap cracks the wet air in half. Splinters it to shards.

 Now it’s thundering- most excellent.

 She doesn’t know why the clouds are bothering with an unnecessarily noisy fan fare. As it is, she can’t possibly get any wetter.

 She can hear the great gallops of it striking the earth. Booming. Clapping quick through the air. Like the beating skin of a army drum being pounded. Actually. It wasn’t thunder. It was- closer to earth. Not quite as sky bound.

 It starts off far away and it invariably grows steadily louder. She almost wishes to sit up and shush it to silence. But that would require movement and her body is too busy melting into the cold moist earth. Moulding in with the leaves and moss. Churning into the oozy mud and the carpet of frost that the rain is eating away.

 The rhythmic thunder ceases to be quieted. For it can’t.

 She grumbles a groan of a breath that crackles out of her sore throat, and she struggles but contrives to peel open her heavy eyes.

 All she can see is that same hazy grey of the rain in the distance. The silver blur inbetween the trees.

 Suddenly it is interrupted. There’s a dark shape bounding towards her. Her mind would make some inappropriate joke about the devil coming to take her soul if her brain hadn’t been rattled to absolute bits by her shivering.

 She blinks, it takes every ounce of energy she has left. The shape is tall and getting taller. Bleeding upwards. The top is wider, where the bottom is thinner. Two long sculpted shapes, like black stalactites, and they move, leaning forwards, then two more behind those do the same.

 The shape pounds the ground. Churning up dirt and muddy water. Her eyes focus enough to then recognise a very wide pair of horses hooves.

 Slowing in rapid succession toward her. The hooves were as wide as her head. It was an enormous animal this black horse. It’s fetlocks were massively muscled. Formed big and sheared with long black feathering.

 A Shire horse? Maybe even bigger than that still. She can hear the massive beast above her, snorting. She hasn’t yet sought out sight of of the rider.

 She would raise her eyes if it didn’t ache so much. She feels the drips of rain patter over her dry lips. She opens her mouth to speak. In attempting movement, she closes her eyes and tries to twist around, splaying herself into more mud. She doesn’t want to even comprehend the mess of her coat or dress. The sad sorry miserable state of her.

 She must look so pathetic - and that ragged on her dignity. What little of it there is existing.

 They call out. It’s all a mumbled blur to her. A deeply dark tone that sounds muffled. As if coming from underwater.

 She tries to apologise to this mystery rider she’s accosted. Wonders why they didn’t just stomp over her with their horses huge hooves and put her quickly out of her misery. Do her a favour.

 The again, why on earth are they out riding in this stormy delude? Maybe they’re as nonsensical as her.

 It never occurred to her that they were out here for her benefit.

 “Iris...” comes the deep call through the rain. She intimately knows that rich voice.

 She looks. It hurts, but she looks. A pair of black boots slam to the ground in her eye-line. Water and mud spraying everywhere under his fierce tread.

 She twists up, wet hair sticks to her face. Her lips gape. Lord Ren? It can’t be. She can’t have walked that far?

 She peeks up, eyes as wide as saucers.

 Yes. Yes, apparently she had walked that far.

 The adjoining land she’d forgotten. The one that Lord Havisham’s estate bordered on... it was Hellford Park. How in the living hell had he found her here?

 He’s quite a sight to be devoured. This big wet vampire. Out in all this pouring rain.

 He wears only a short and greatcoat. With dark breeches and mud splashed boots. His skin is as wet as hers, an icy rivulet runs off his chin. His white shirt is sticky and tamped to his big chest. If she could gasp at seeing it clinging like a second skin to his body, she would’ve. His wild dark hair is swirled and stuck to his head. That too drips on his coated shoulders.

 She fancied if his coat gapes open any the wider, she’d be able to see the whole stretch of his naked chest. Again. The dark patches of his nipples and all those enticing peaks and dips in the muscle.

 He moves so fast it makes her eyes hurt and head spin. His face is concerned. Bearing down a sad look at her.

 Then he’s there. Above her. He’s kneeling in the dirt. Her numb body senses his hands scoop under her. She tries to speak but her tongue has nearly literally frozen - fallen right back down her throat.

 Two big and ungloved hands slide under her. One under her shoulders, the other near the numb things she used to call legs.

 She’s soaked to the bone and dirty with wet mud and she’s mortified with the way he clasps her so close to his skin. She’ll ruin his handsome coat. He’s just as icy cold as she is. Like old marble stone. She would speak, but her teeth are chattering out of her skull.

 “Are you hurt?” He seeks. She shivers through a shake of her head.

 He couldn’t stand to yank her up, and then have her shriek out in pain because of a broken bone he hadn’t foreseen.

 He lifts her. In one mighty swoop, unsticks her from the earth and up away into his strong arms. Such musculature he has, it’s undeniably potent. Being held by him in this close a manner.

 She tries to curl her tongue around some words. An apology. Or a question. He senses this. He’s softly speaking to her. Hugging her tight to his body in a close embrace.

 “None of that now. Don’t try to speak. Don’t speak. Just keep your eyes open for me, little dove.” He instructs calmly to her. He walks them back to a horse she can only assume is Erland.

 The great equine beast is already snorting and nickering. Lowering his legs so Kylo can hoist her on the saddle.

 She barely grips onto the horse with her senseless fingers. He’s behind her in no time at all. Swings his body up and that compact wall of a body is behind her again. He seizes the reins and keeps her tucked close. Curled into his chest. Her head on his shoulder.

 “I’ve got you.” He assures her. His breath hot on her temple. Such a scorching promise in comparison to the chilling rain. His words melt the cool on her skin.

 One trunk of a big arm curling around her locks her to him. He coaxed Erland around, and dig his heel in the animals round bellied side. They race off through the stinging rain. The woods are a blurring black and grey mush to her. The stark of trees and rain battered undergrowth.

 She feels Erland’s back arch as he rears up and clears a fence cleanly, taking it cleanly like it’s nothing. Kylo’s arm fixes around her. Crushing tight when they do. Ensuring she stays right there with him in the saddle seat. Braced right against his thighs behind, and the saddle horn in front. Her hip cradling the pommel.

 She inches closer to him. Tucks her face into the crook of his neck. Uncaring for civility now. She clings onto him so tight her fingers leave creases in his clothes. Ten little crescent moons. She knots her knuckles to grip so tight in his sodden clothes that her wrists shake all the more.

 They absolutely fly through the rain. She didn’t need to ride Erland to know he was a powerful horse bred for pulling. Clearly carrying two people posed no issues for him either.

 He was as quick as ten horses. The Arabian in his blood made him a fast sort of beast. His legs and his hooves pounded the earth quicker than she could rationally comprehend.

 She hears the tempo of Erland’s hooves shift when they come to a paved road. The clops echo louder. Ringing like tinnitus in her ears. Sharply striking her senses. Rattling in her head and bouncing from one ear and across to the other. Her head feels full of fluffy cotton. It’s ineffectual.

 Kylo’s body lurched behind hers. Erland slows to a halt as bid by his master in his foreign Bavarian tongue. She sways forwards too. The weight of him disappears and she opens her sticky eyes, weakly clutching onto the leather strap of Erland’s tacking. Kylo is below her on the ground, sliding her off his stallions powerful back, into his arms once again.

 She sees the steps afore them, leading up to the front of the house. The doors flung wide inwards. She hears him call sharp orders. She wonders if they are to her but then a most obedient stable hand appears as if out of nowhere, leads the horse away quick. Kylo’s carrying her again.

 Storms her right up the steps in his hold. Muddy and soggy in his arms. Running quick with her. As fast as he can move.

 She barely registers that they’re out of the rain and inside Hellford’s foyer. She recognised the pointed tiles of the floor. They blur her eyes at Kylo’s fast pace covering ground. His big thighs can stride quick and his booted feet rattle sharp clacks on the tiles.

 He’s barking orders again. He used to command one of the largest companies of men in history. Orders are things he’s used to issuing. “Jomar. Stoke the fires in the guest bedchamber, now. Draw a warm bath. Not hot. Warm. If she heats up too quickly there’s every risk she’ll go into shock.” He demands.

 There’s another hollow clack. She thinks it might be them ascending a staircase. The great dark mahogany one. He speaks again. “Have two maids sent up to the suite now. They’ll need to strip her and help rid her of her sodden clothes.”

 His butler with the soothing honey and cinnamon for a voice answers him. “Of course, Your Lordship. I’ll send for Anna and Mrs Jones.” He assures him. Sending for the most competent maid and the brusque housekeeper. The one so stern she gave his strict regimental measures a run for its money.

 Kylo whisks her away upstairs. She’s barely stopped shivering when he bursts them through a bedroom door that he roundly kicks open with the ball of his foot. Curses at the stubborn thing.

 She’s sprawled back on a bed suddenly. Feather and down beneath her. Staring at a rosebud pink bed canopy. If she had the temerity to recognise where she was she’d have blushed into the next dimension.

 She’s still shivering but she manages to curl up and sit, looking down to see his dripping dark head bowed as he teaches under her skirts, and takes one ankle to gently start on working off her muddy boots. Yanking it calmly off her foot with some urgency. Her hands fumble for her coat buttons. The heat of the house prickles at her skin. It burns.

 She shudders a weak laugh. “Never-r thought I’d see a day w-when a peer of the r-realm would be ttaking off my boots.” She sniffs. Rainwater’s dripping down her nose. She looks down and sees the priceless silk eiderdown that she’s sat on. A lump lodged in her throat.

 “I’ll soak the b-bedding...” She frets. Trying to work off her heavy slippery gloves. Not having much luck.

 Kylo peers up at her. She sees the mud smeared over his hands. On his coat. The watermarks on the fine carpets. She feels wretched. Making work for others.

 “Damn the bedding. Iris. It is replaceable. You are not. My first priority is getting you warmed again.” He insists.

 Then, in a manner so intimate as nothing she’s ever felt in her life. He rises up and cups her cold face in one hand. His palm covers her jaw and most of her neck. She’s as icy as he is. He suddenly fathoms how dangerous that is.

 “How-w did you f-find me?” She whispers quietly. Eyes boring into his own. They are that melting brown again. Gone was the gold and rampant red of last night.

 She didn’t see the monster here today. She saw only a loving suitor.

 “I told you.” He insists kindly. “I won’t have anything happen to you.” He ushers softly. Thumb stroking a sticky smear of mud and a wet coil of hair off her face.

 “I felt you were in peril. That, I could not ignore. I could sense it was you from the second you stepped foot near my land.” He tells openly. He was after all, a territorial creature.

 She’s not scared of him. She ought have her head examined-

 She’s witnessed and heard what he can do to humans. She saw as much last night. She’s been stood on the fringes of conversations about the details of all the grizzly deaths of late. The ones where men were left parted from their arms and legs with their entrails piled and strung around them like garlands or bunting. It’s too frightening to even consider.

 She saw none of that here, in him tonight. He rode out into a vicious storm to bring her home and get her warm; those didn’t seem like the actions of a soulless creature. Quite the contrary.

 He can rip out throats or rip limbs off lesser mortal bodies and she isn’t scared. He’s a dangerous warrior from an age long past.

 She’s never been more wildly in love.

 She’s curious about the other facets this beautiful man may be hiding. She’s determined to seek out more curiosities about his character, if it’s the last thing she does.

 “T-thank-“ She begins to stammer. He merely smiles and shakes his head. His hair drops more rain onto his shoulders. It bleeds out his shaggy mane. Stuck swirled to his neck and ears.

 He touches her cheek again. “I would rip this very world in two with my bare hands to keep you safe.” He assures.

 Their moment is rudely interrupted as a fleet of regimented maids burst into the room. Some carrying water jugs to tip into the bath. A stout woman and a waify blonde cross quickly to where Kylo is knelt. The stout woman puts her hand on his shoulder.

 “Your valet is in your chambers, my Lord. We’ll see to Miss Ashton, here. Never fret. We’ll soon see her right.” She persuades kindly.

 He nods a quick crooked smile of thanks. And stands up. The polite maid smiles nicely helps Iris with her gloves. Unbuttons the soggy calfskin things and pulls them off. Kylo’s chest crushes at seeing the red raw of her cold palms. Her tiny elegant fingers pricked stiff and numb with cold.

 “I’ll leave you in Mrs Jones’ capable hands. Little dove.” He takes his hand off her neck and smiles, before he turns to them both and softly orders. “Act as quickly as you can.”

 Another whisper comes so softly, Iris barely hears it for the heavy rain still knifing at the window. It’s Kylo’s fear. His voice trembles with the worry. “Please look after her.”

 “Of course. Your Lordship.” Mrs Jones replies firmly with great feeling. He turns away, with great difficulty taking his eyes off her and the soggy black shape of him trudges out the room. Leaving rain droplets and mud in his wake. Leaving the ladies to tend to her. He’s a big shape blocking up the doorframe and then he’s gone.

 Iris swallows, nervous, freezing with cold, trembling still, and unused to such attention from staff. They’re unbuttoning her coat. She aches from head to toe. And she’s damnably tired. She wants to sink into this luxury bed and sleep like Hypnos.

 “Here we go, pet. Don’t worry now. You’re in safe hands.” Mrs Jones smiles. They are kind. Far too kind. She doesn’t deserve such attention for her stupidity. And yet they’re being so patient.

 Passing Iris a towel so she may wipe the muck from her face. She does. And when they divest her of everything get her down to her dripping cotton shift, Anna takes her wet things and then kindly housekeeper helps her stagger across to the bath on her weak legs. Her dark hair bleeds mud and wet down her shoulders. She doesn’t even wish to see the state she left the eiderdown in.

 “You lean on me, now pet. We’ll have you right as rain in no time.” Mrs Jones assures. Leading Iris to the magnificent anteroom.

 Where a steaming copper tub awaits. The fire in there too was stoked. It blazes off the tub like spun flickers of amber. The air smells of roses. No doubt a clever maid has tipped some fanciful oil in the tub for her. She’s very grateful.

 She’ll be even more so to scrub the mud off her skin and hair.

 Iris fights back a smile. And remarks to herself how she’s never been told to lean on anyone ever before.

 It feels awfully nice not to take all the burdens alone for once.

                                                   ~ ~ 🥀  ~ ~

 Kylo’s sitting alone downstairs. In the grand echoing hall of Hellford’s dining room. Washed, dried and redressed. Somewhat uncommonly, at that. One that made Wilton, his valet, arch a wry brow at him. Which Kylo heartily and completely ignored.

 He’d coughed a dry polite interjection. His cheeks reddened in scandal. He did always appreciate things done properly. Civility paid its due attention. As it should be.

 “You will be dining alone with Miss Ashton Sir. Might you atleast consider a waistcoat?” He flusters. For Wilton that was practically him imploring him, begging on his knees.

 Kylo rolls his eyes. After such an impassioned Aria as that, how could he refuse? He let’s him slip the velvet black, satin backed waistcoat up his shoulders. He buttons it.

 He distinctly heard the man behind him sigh with newfound relief as he brushed off the shoulders. Kylo escaped the dressing room before he insisted on slipping him into full ceremonial dress.

 He was adequate as he was. A fresh pair of dark breeches and boots. And just an undershirt on his top half. No cravat.

 And now here he awaits his diner companion. In this cavernous room. He could hardly send her back to Westwell in such a weakened state. He’d have her fed and warmed to the bone before he sends for the carriage. He took great delight in penning a note to Mr Ashton. Telling him his daughter fell ill in his woods. He wonders what her greek harpy of a mother will make of that.

 He smiles to himself as he scans around the room, looking to the doors again. Night was falling outside now. Rain still beats heavy on the windowpanes. The scuttle of it fills this room. His dining room.

 Finely bedecked in scarlet and gold. The walls are an ornamental barque red wallpaper. The narrow room bears the same pointed black and white tile as the foyer. There’s an ancient mahogany table that he’s sure measures a mile long. When chandeliers or glassware and cutlery are placed on the far end, they glitter like far off stars. The ceiling is governed by three gigantic chandeliers that drop down shimmering gold and crystals from the high gilded ceiling. It’s every inch a rich room.

 It’s mostly dark. Candles on walls and side tables lit. Fire blazing. Kylo is settled down the far end from the grand double doors. By the roaring great fireside. Cast in amber all around him.

 His sleeves are rolled, and he’s relaxing on an upholstered scarlet wingback chair. One of a matching pair, set by the fire. The one opposite him is currently empty. He hopes Miss Ashton will be the one to fill it shortly.

 Mrs Jones had stopped in earlier, poked her head through the door. Said Iris was well. No sign of illness brewing. She’d been bathed and successfully warmed up gradually. Inside and out. She was served two pots of tea, which she drank. And she was most glad to wash all the muck away.

 Kylo thanked her for her efficiency. She really was a matriarchal wonder. He couldn’t do without her running this house the way she does. She smiles and bids him a good evening. Slips back down to the kitchens in time for the servants supper.

 When the door creaks open again, Kylo leaps to his feet. Head twisting back in the direction of the doors. Face hopeful. When he sees it’s only Jomar walking through with a carafe of wine, and two glasses. Heading toward him.

 Today his ever persistent Butler wears his usual robes. A cloaking Sherwani coat. The usual Dastar turban. Today it is a golden yellow like warm gold butter. His coat is an ivory satin. Stitched with beige embroidery of leaves and vines. The same dark dhoti puffed trousers on his legs tucked into his fine long boots.

 He settles back down again. Sinking into the chair. Boots scraping on the deer pelt rug stretched across the floor.

 “You seem unhappy to see me. Perhaps you were anticipating someone else? I even come bearing an awfully good vintage. A full bodied 1785 Bordeaux.” He smiles. Calling out to his master.

 Kylo grumbles. “As enticing as your company is. You know how I much prefer the wine.”

 “My lord. I’ve seen you drink the foulest of ale that basically equates to stale barley hops and animal urine. You will tip anything alcoholic down your neck for pleasure. You remain a Viking in some ways.” He corrects with a smile.

 “I haven’t drunk in a manner like that since 1632.” Kylo defends as Jomar places the fat bottomed wine carafe on the end table next to his lord. Stands the glasses down next to it. Unstoppering the decanter and pouring the velvety ruby-black wine into the class.

 “And you would do the same if you to live around the bloody puritans.... most dull people ever to exist on the face of this earth. That sodding lot and their covenants and bloody purity without sin would drive a monk to tears of boredom.” He whinges.

 “Yet. You bear the dissatisfaction so nobly.” Jomar jests. He never passed up a chance to sark at his grumpy Lordship. Handing Kylo the glass wine goblet. He takes it gently. Sips it. Doesn’t want to admit to his butler how right he is.

 Jomar knows. He sees the annoyed little twitch tug at he corner of his masters mouth. He stoppers the wine again. Looking too wholly satisfied. He stands with his hands folded behind his back. As if waiting for more.

 Kylo glares sharp at him over his glass as the red wine stains his lips. “Pray what is it now?” He asks and is met with a smug smirk.

 “Don’t expect me to sit here and gossip with you like some giggling waify bluestocking.” Kylo grumps. Jomar smiles wider. Not the least put off by his grousing.

 “Don’t you have duties to attend to?” Kylo adds. “Staff to order about... go and- polish the silver or wind the clocks or do something insipid, would you...” He urges.

 “No duties at present are as urgent as this.” He grins. His Butler won’t budge. He was famously obstinate. That’s why he’s able to serve Kylo so well as he does. They are two peas in a pod.

 If Jomar had been a lesser man maybe he would have put up with Kylo’s snipes and bore them all in silence. Kylo’s secretly glad he doesn’t. He likes a healthy challenge. Part of his Viking spirit he believes.

 His Lordship sighs and rolls his eyes. Cursing heaven and hell and everything inbetween the two.

 “Mrs Jones tells me our pretty houseguest is well recovered from her tumble in the rain.” His walnut brows arch softly up his forehead. Cocoa brown eyes glimmer with loving insinuation.

 “You and your confounded relations have wanted to see me married, since before Queen Elizabeth I took to the throne.” He strops.

 “She’s an excellent match for you. So I understand it.” He continues on as if Kylo has not spoken. He always did.

 “I will dock your wages if much more of this insolence continues.” Kylo’s threatening. But he can’t help the smile that breaks his lips.

 “I was just curious, is all. And If you do perchance happen to persuade that sweet darling girl to marry you, then please make it somewhat soon. You’ve been alone for eons too long. You really could benefit from loving someone again.” He turns to quit the room with a polite bow. The fire light shines off his marigold yellow silk dastar.

 “And also please host your nuptials as soon as. Because then in that circumstance, Mrs Jones will owe me 20 shillings.” He remarks as he takes his leave. He listens to Jomar’s footsteps fade away. Clacking away into echos in the grand room.

 Kylo wants to roll his eyes. He settles for drinking some more. “Begone. You wily cur.” He smiles, calling loudly after his retreat.

 Jomar talks loudly as he gets to the doors. For Iris is just walking through them. He smiles at her widely. Hands folded demurely and stiffly behind his back. He hears Kylo clatter to stand to attention down the room. Hears the scrape of the chair legs whine on the polished floor.

 “Miss Ashton. We are all relieved to see you so well recovered.” He insists. His smile creases his cheeks. He really does have the most sincere smile. And he always smells faintly of mango’s and coconut. Something in his cologne perhaps? Or an oil for his beard. A richly exotic delightful scent. Always draws stronger when he moved closer.

 Iris blushes. Well embarrassed and appraised of how the whole house seemed to be aware of her foolish misfortune. Servants gossip. It’s as certain a fact as the sun rising in the east.

 “Your staff are most attentive and kind. Mr. Jomar.” She tells him brightly. She looks pale to his eye. But he supposed she’s had quite an ordeal to undergo.

 Her brow is a little dewy and her cheeks warm. Her eyes seem very bright with something. He puts that down to the warmth of her surroundings.

 She’s dressed in the only spare ladies clothes they kept hereabouts. A new nightgown and shift. Mrs Jones bumbled her up in a long crushed red velvet gown, the colour of split veins, and gave her a golden tasselled shawl to link about her shoulders too. For extra measure.

 “Might I bring you anything, Miss Ashton?” Jomar seeks.

 “That will be all. Please serve dinner as soon as cook is ready.” Kylo calls from down the hall.

 “Enjoy his royal grumpiness. Miss Ashton.” Jomar cheeks before he bows and steps past her. Shutting the door in his wake with a glass smile.

 She looks down the room. Painfully aware that she’s been left all alone with Lord Ren. He stands. Awaiting her. A true gentleman through and through.

 She walks to meet him. He examines her as she comes closer. He’s afraid his eyes don’t know which part to settle on first. Her hair is unbound. Glossy and fluffy. Recently soaked and dried by the fire. Still a touch damp he reckons. If he curled his fingers around those long strands, he’d still be able to feel a kiss of damp.

 Her hair is thick. He never knew that before. It always being up in a coiffure was difficult to measure. And when she’s lying down it’s tucked behind her head. Here, as it seats down, he can see the volume and body on those walnut-chestnut golden brown curls. It stretched right down her back. Almost to her shoulder blades. She looks divinely pretty and wild. Untamed. Like that very first day he laid eyes on her.

 He wants to feel that unbound silk on his palms as he cups her cheeks to kiss her-

 He swallows. Now applauding her dress. A gown and those silly little slippered stockings on her feet. No stays or pinching necklines. She looks relaxed and it makes him feel so stirred up to see it.

 “How are you feeling?” He steps closer when she finally nears the fire. That dining table was surely the very length of Britain itself.

 He can’t sense anything the matter with her. She’s over warm but he blames that on his own overzealous orders to see her warmed through. She looks rosy cheeked and healthy enough. Her energy waning a little but he suspects she’s most likely hungry and tired.

 “I am much better. And might I just say, thank you greatly for your assistance. I feel a complete fool.” She blushes redder. Looking ashamed.

 “One can not predict the weather in this cursed ever mutable country.” He insists.

 “And I rather thank your foolishness. Had it not been so- I might thereafter have been dining alone tonight.” He flatters.

 “Please, come and sit. You need rest.” He insists gently.

 Moving closer and pressing a hand lightly to the back of her waist. She moves towards the chair opposite to his. Listens to the storm rattle at the windows and howl at the roof. It seemed almost determined to get inside with them. Clawing at Hellford’s outer walls.

 She relaxes into the seat. Her gown almost moulds into the same shade of the chair. She sits back and lets the fire warm her. Although she feels overheated.

 She supposed it’s cause she was so chilled earlier. She can’t differentiate between the two extremes. Her whole body now feels heavy. Her chest feels too tight even though she isn’t wearing her stays. Just loose cotton. But her ribs feel bruised. Every breath feels too short somehow.

 Kylo stays standing and pours her some wine. “I’ve sent a note to your father at Westwell explaining what events unfolded.” He tells her.

 She thanks him again as he hands her the wine. “I’m surprised my mother wasn’t kicking down the doors to rescue me safely home.” Iris insists after sipping the drink.

 Kylo’s smiling. Settling himself back in his chair. Wine to hand. Legs splayed out comfortably. One bent, one reclining out gently. “Mrs Ashton is my severest critic.” He remarks.

 “Believe me. I pay her criticisms little mind.” Iris insists. He smiles wider. Good.

 He watches her as she stumbles around asking a question. Not quite knowing where to begin...

 “Forgive my impertinence around such a subject. But I see no other way to approach asking it..” She begins. Wetting her lips and meeting his dark eyes. Those rough cut gemstones encloses in shadows.

“About last nights, um- events...” She starts.

 “Iris. I’m more sorry than I can say for what you witnessed last night. To see death so violently. I know it was shocking for you. I can see it stunned you. It stuns most people to discover what I truly am.” He offers plainly.

 “And your staff... do they, well-know?” She asks in a hush. Whispering.

 “The ones I know explicitly do. Jomar and Mrs Jones. The rest may circulate whatever rumours they wish. I haven’t confirmed nor denied it. It would scare a lot of people. If it’s not self absorbent, I believe a great amount of speculation flourishes in my wake.”

 “I am more intimate with the staff and tenants at my castle. Back home. I defend my territory from the savage appetites of feral new sires and I loyally protect the people who live on my lands. I however saw no reason to shock whole legions of the local staff I hired when Hellford park was opened here.” He offers.

 “New sires?” She asks. Kylo senses she’ll have more questions to ask before the night is out. If she didn’t she was a simpleton and he’d never accuse her of that.

 “Vampires are creatures that are made or turned. Little Dove. Not born as mortals are.” He remarks.

 “New Sires are as feral as a roaming pack of starving wolves. The hunger when it first comes... there’s no mania of man that can match to it. It’s like death visits you twice. But keeps you sensate for every agonising moment. It’s worse than fever or plague. You’d do anything to feed to chase the hunger away. It rots at your gut. Makes you do horrible things. Vilest of things.” He makes plain.

 “You were turned?” She enquires. He hopes she won’t faint. But he sees she’s made of sterner - more curious mettle - He’s rather glad she’s sat down.

 He nods calmly. “I was.”

 “One thousand and twenty seven years ago.” Comes his casual offering.

 Draegans face flutters on his mind for just a second. The pale pierce of his eyes. The silk of his silver hair. The sharp savagery of his silver tongued smile. He blinks his past away. Out of his head.

 Her mouth hangs open. “My goodness.” She gasps. “You do look remarkably... uh- well. Considering your age.” She stumbles. He chuckles at her reaction. Trying to wrap her head around it all.

 “In my many advancing years. I’ll snatch whatever flattery I can get.” He states warmly. Smirks darkly at her. Almost flirting. She smiles.

 “I’ve heard of your kind in folklore. Passed on in tales from ancient civilisations all around the world. Campfire horror stories I’m sure- predictable drama in Gothic Penny novelettes.” She tells. “But I never suspected-“

 “Monsters like me truly exist?” He jokes. Laughs a little. She smiles too.

 “I don’t think you’re a monster.” She comments in a tiny voice. So honest. So sweet. It touches the vacant pit where his heart should be.

 “Little Dove. Every culture and manner of people that there has ever been, has had creatures like me stalking and hunting in the dark of their shadows.” He promises.

 “It’s been that way since the dawn of time.” He eluded.

 “At the risk of another impertinence; had you a family?” She asks. The honesty as tragedy of his smile gives her the biggest answer.

 “Centuries ago I used too. Naturally. There’s only me left. A mother and father, of course. Two little vexing brothers...” He tells. “I stopped mourning all their passings a long time hence.”

 “I’m dreadfully sorry. I can only imagine how strange it must be, to be the only relation left.”

 Kylo’s smile is pensive. “I still have a family of some kind surrounding me. I have an impertinent butler and a matron of a housekeeper who resolves to mother me as if I were a boy again. Some friends who are, shall we say.... cursed with the same predilection as myself. It is not such a lonesome existence.” He tells.

 He did have a lover. Once upon a time. But even his short fuse of a temper eventually took care of that.

 He walked away from the greatest love of his life. His seething anger over his turning ate him up. He felt controlled, abused. Suffocated by his control. Their bond was a trap to him. No longer was it the freedom he first thought. Draegan was eclipsing his life. He was fed up of being in his pocket, hailed as his favourite warrior. His fierce one. As he called him.

 He was sick of his Norse endearments. Because Draegan was the kind of lover to endear him in his own native Norse tongue. Kylo quickly made up his mind to leave him. After decades of being together. He felt used. Felt like Draegan only turned him to use him as a puppet. His strength and power were commendable - and exploitable.

 He took it out on everyone surrounding him, but himself. Turned the pain and rage outward. That night in the snow after battle when he was turned into a vampire, Kylo had been promised the world and he left Draegan to finally go and take what he felt he was owed.

 He didn’t regret the parting then. He was glad of it. He severed his ties. Sheared his hair short, and cut off his viking courting braids. Turned his back on his lover and his maker. Took the world for his own as a lone wolf. He regretted it bitterly now. After all these years.

 She nods in gentle understanding. If anyone can comprehend an existence devoid of people who love her, and show appreciation openly. It’s certainly her. Posy and Flora only show her affection of they’re after a pair of earrings. Or some bauble or trinket or her slippers for a ball. She doesn’t see her father enough to have a kind word. Though he oft has plenty for her. And her mother? Woe betide she ever hears an encouraging syllable cross her lips.

 “Well. I for one feel most sorry for you Lord Ren.” She begins. He looks confused.

 “You left your castle in Bavaria for an enticing and relaxing english country excursion, and all you seem to be doing is saving foolish damsels who find themselves in distress.” She offers. “Hardly a peaceful leisurely winter.” She adds over his chuckling.

 “I’ve said it before, I will repeat myself gladly. I found a damsel who is infinitely worth saving.” He comments. She feels her blush creep down her neck. She smiles down into her lap. Holding her wine.

 She peers into the flames next to them. Draws the shawl tighter around herself. Kylo stands and offers to refill her wine glass. She hands it across and their fingers brush. Static and molten heat fizzle through her blood. He’s still so cold. She’d always thought it a matter of poor circulation perhaps. Now she understands why that might be the state of his skin.

 “You must have so many fantastic tales to tell. What with having such a long and varied life...” She looks up at him as he pours her more wine.

 “A couple here and there up my sleeve...” He offers with mirth as he returns to his seat.

 He could tell her about seeing the magic unfurling of the renaissance in Florence the 1500’s. The art the muses. He could regale to her the true bloody carnage of the crusades in the Middle East the so called ‘Holy Land.’ He could explain to her what Paris and Versailles was like in 1720. The frippery and the aristocracy. The crass callous nature of French royalty. Powered wigs black rotten teeth and beauty spots. He’d lived through all those cosmetic fashionable fads.

 “Immortality is useful if one wishes to see the world. I believe there is no corner of it I haven’t glimpsed.” He tells.

 “A soldier and a proverbial wanderer.” She adds in wonder. “You’ve seen the whole globe. I’ve only ever been shut into this tiny corner of it.” She tells.

 “You regret that?” He asks.

 “In some ways. I know not one person who has ever gone to their grave saying that they should have travelled less. I don’t want to be that person. Aching for experiences and a having a sore soul-full of remorse when my time finally does come.” She admits.

 “Imminent marriage to the egregious Sergeant Hux suddenly seems abhorrent in more than a few ways?” He seeks.

 “In every way.” Iris insists. Drinking her wine. But she couldn’t help it. It was what had to be done. No matter how much she wishes to undo it.

 The dining room doors clatter open at the far end. A whole bevy of servants in Hellford’s crimson livery come in. Carrying trays and silver dishes laden with food. Iris can smell the delicious concoctions even from up where she is.

 Mrs Jones directs her busy worker bees. They serve the elegant dinner right down the far end. Near the fire. At Kylo’s insistence. The table groans with food before long. A leg of roasted ham. A roasted saddle of beef. A mound of golden potatoes. A whole terrine of steaming white chicken soup, another of mutton stew. Creamed celery and fried cabbage and sprouts with chestnuts. Buttered asparagus and every fine dish she could ever think.

 She sits opposite Kylo as the foot man carved them both chunks off the roasted meats. Along with half a roasted capon each. She likes the indulgence of it. And the meat is well cooked. The beef still drips ichor and the ham is sweetly succulent. Everything is immaculate. The footman pours them more wine and they helped themselves to the banquet of food.

 Kylo doesn’t indulge much in the feast. She observed he mostly had the bleeding meats and the wine.

 She feels over warm by the time they retire to the fireside once more. Many glasses of wine, aswell as indulging in soup and asparagus and roasted meats of all varieties, the dinner leaves her feeling stuffed full. Her stomach clogged with meat and sloshing with Bordeaux.

 She declines another glass when they take to the seats once more. Dabs at her brow. Her headache is pumping furiously behind her temples again. Her throat is cracking dry. Nothing appears to ease it. She’d eaten the sugary sweet peaches and crisp snap apples off the fruit platter set on the table but now her mouth is dry as ash.

 “The madness of the weather isn’t persisting, so I see.” She comments as the furious storm rattled the windows forcefully. She would be best to stay the night. As he predicted. He’s loathing the idea of sending her and his staff and driver out accompanying the coach in the severest weather like this.

 Kylo peers across at her. Her breath seemed a little short. Her words seemed like enormous effort for her. And she’d seemed reserved at dinner. Eating slowly as if she had no appetite.

 “I wager it will pass soon enough. Might see out the night.” He comments. Taking a sip of his own drink. Feeling the scarlet velvet of it sit on his tongue.

 Her head is so full of agony. She can barely summon the energy to speak. She pushes herself up out the chair by the arms. Her bones suddenly grate with white-hot pain.

 “Please forgive me- I.” She starts. Gasping for breath. She shuts her eyes and Kylo watches her try to compose herself.

 “I think I may need to retire to-“ She doesn’t get the opportunity to finish her sentence. She swallows and then she just falls. Crumpled like a wilting flower.

 Kylo is there to catch her. He stood the second she started waning. He falls onto his knees and captures her in his arms.

 “Dove?” He seeks. Stroking hair out her face. Her neck is stretched back, face pale and dewy with sweat. Eyes ashen grey and bright. Hooded eyes bright with pyrexia. She’s weak. The rain caught her in worse ways than he outwardly supposed.

 The chill must’ve settled on her lungs.

 He cups his cool fingers to her brow. She’s hot. Terribly hot. A fever. This was grave. Grave indeed.

 He turns and yells for Mrs Jones to send for the doctor. He turns back to Iris. Watches the beads of sweat wriggle down her forehead. Her dry lips crack open and she’s trying to apologise again.

 He cups the back of her neck. Face tugged into worry. “I’ve still got you.” He promises.

 His distress starting to build. Mounting onto his sadness. He never prayed. Gods hold no faith for him anymore. But he prayed in this moment for her.

 He truly did. And he prayed so hard his hands shook.

                                                        ~ ~ 🥀  ~ ~

[briansclogss]

Just Say It

Pairing(s): RogerxReader , BrianxReader

Word Count: 4.5k

Summary: On the night you and Brian decide to announce your engagement, Roger has an important confession to make. 

Warnings: SUPER angsty, also some swearing, and a bit of fluff thrown in for good measure!

A/N: Thank you so much to @sweet-ladyy for being the beta reader for my first fic ever! Your input was incredibly helpful, and gave me the boost of confidence to post this!

I hope you all enjoy!

As you sat by the door waiting for Brian to finish putting on his tie, you couldn’t help but admire the ring on your left hand. With its intricate design and encrusted diamonds, the ring signified your engagement to the incredible guitarist who’d stolen your heart nearly a decade ago.

You’d met him at one of Queen’s first shows in university. The moment you’d seen him strumming his guitar in a local pub you swore you’d never seen anyone so beautiful in your life.

It hadn’t always been smooth sailing for the two of you. Queen’s constant cycle of recording and touring for years on end had caused you and Brian to dance around your feelings for years.

But here you were, waiting for your fiancé to slip on his shoes so that the pair of you could head to Freddie’s for dinner. Your engagement was still fresh, and both of you had been dying to tell the rest of the band. You’d decided that an intimate dinner at Freddie’s was the perfect time to announce it.

“Are you ready love?” Brian gave you a cheeky smile.

You rolled your eyes playfully, giving him a smile. No matter what the occasion, you were always ready at least twenty minutes before him.

As you stood to open the front door Brian stopped you and began to gently run his hands up and down your arms.

“You look incredible tonight,” his voice came out in a nearly breathless whisper as he planted a soft kiss on your forehead.

You didn’t try to suppress your blush as you took his hand and lead him out the door.

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

You pulled up to Freddie’s house in a matter of minutes. You and Brian had recently bought a house in the same area, anticipating starting a family soon after your marriage. The thought made your heart flutter in your chest.

Despite the proximity of your homes, Freddie’s must have been twice as grand, and had almost as much personality as the owner himself.

As you and Brian walked to hand-in-hand to the entrance, the reality of the night began to hit you.

“Sorry Bri, can we stop for a second?” you asked your fiancé, giving his hand a tight squeeze.

“Everything alright, love?” His face was contorted in an adorable look of concern.

“Yeah, of course. Just a bit nervous is all.”

You gave him a shy smile. You weren’t completely sure why you were feeling so nervous. After all, you were extremely close with all the boys, having known them since Queen’s early days. Telling them about your engagement should be as easy as telling family. Maybe that’s why you were so nervous. Just like with family, you wanted the boys to approve of your and Brian’s engagement.

You knew it was a ridiculous thing to worry about, seeing as the boys had never been anything but supportive of your relationship. Still, you couldn’t calm the butterflies in your stomach as you and Brian reached the door.

Brian turned to you, giving you a soft smile.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Ready.” Your stomach did a flip as Brian rang the doorbell.

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

In the living room Freddie, John, and Roger sat, each nursing a drink as they awaited your arrival.

“Where the hell are they?” Roger huffed, setting down his drink so that he could pace around the room. He was getting restless thinking about your and Brian’s impending arrival, and the ‘special announcement’ that was promised to come with it.

“What do you reckon they want to tell us anyways?’ Roger asked, flipping through Freddie’s collection of albums.

“Probably adopted a dog or something” John snorted, “He kept going on about the two of them reaching a new ‘relationship milestone’” he said giving air quotes, “Whatever that means…”

Just as Roger was about to reply with a sarcastic comment of his own, the doorbell chimed, signalling your arrival.

“And speak of the devil! That’ll be them!” Freddie exclaimed, hurrying off to answer the door.

Despite his best efforts to remain calm, Roger couldn’t help the sudden pounding in his chest, or fumbling of his hands as he tried to place an album back on the shelf.

As he turned around he could have sworn his breath caught in his chest at the sight of you. Roger couldn’t help but think about how stunning you looked as you entered the room. But his nerves were quickly replaced with a sudden jolt of jealousy as he looked at your and Brian’s entwined hands. He felt guilty for thinking about you and feeling the way he did.

After all, you were with Brian, and Brian was his best friend. Friends were not supposed to be jealous of their friends. And he knew without a doubt that he should be happy for Brian, but he couldn’t ignore the sting that came from watching you with a man that wasn’t him.

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

“Freddie!” you beamed as he opened the door and excitedly welcomed you and Brian into his house.

“It’s been far too long, darling!”

He opened his arms and you leaned in for a hug, quickly slipping your engagement ring off in the process. You and Brian had decided to make your announcement during dessert. ‘That way it’ll be sweeter!’ he’d joked on the car ride over.

As Freddie led you to the living room you couldn’t help but smile at the small details that made the house uniquely Freddie. From the paintings to the the piano in the corner of the room, everything in his home perfectly encapsulated his style. You felt a rush of excitement thinking about how you and Brian would decorate your new home.

You’d pick out the furniture and decorate the inside of the house, and Brian would be responsible for the garden in the back. He’d been over the moon about the idea of installing bird feeders and planting flowers for the bees to pollinate. And of course, you would convert one of the rooms into a studio for Brian to play whenever inspiration struck him. Even if that was more often than not at two in the morning.

As you entered the living room you were greeted by John’s warm embrace.

“Hi John!” You gave him a wide smile. “How are the kids?”

His face lit up at the mention of his children. John was relatively soft spoken, but once you got him talking about his kids he wouldn’t shut up.

“Doing well, the youngest one’s just lost his first tooth!” He beamed.

You smiled and shared a knowing look with Brian. You’d recently started discussing the prospect of having children of your own. It just seemed like the next big step after you two were married.

As you parted ways with John you noticed Roger’s mop of blond hair near the record player. He was awkwardly fumbling with an album as he tried to place it back on the shelf.

You let go of Brian’s hand and slipped away to greet Roger. Brian was still fully consumed by John’s anecdote about the tooth fairy.

“Hey stranger.” you tapped Roger lightly on the shoulder.

“Oh hey y/n!” He jumped a little, clearly startled, and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. He seemed slightly on edge but you dismissed it, giving him a quick hug and a peck on the cheek.

Roger cleared his throat and turned back to the shelf full of albums. He hoped you couldn’t see the embarrassing shade of pink that had begun to colour his cheeks.

“You look…” Roger began, but his words were cut off by the loud laughs of the three men behind you.

“Sorry Rog, I didn’t catch that.”

He cleared his throat and turned back around to face you.

“I said, you look good tonight. The two of you,” he quickly added, “here together.”

You blushed and thanked him. Little did you know that what he really meant was that you looked gorgeous tonight, every time he saw you in fact. And whenever he saw you with Brian, his heart broke just a little because he wished it was him you were dressing up for, not his best friend.

Just as you were about to ask Roger about his most recent trip to Japan with John, you felt you a warm, gentle touch on your back that could only belong to one person.

“How are you mate!” Brian exclaimed, pulling Roger in for a brotherly hug.

Roger looked taken aback by Brian’s unusually energetic greeting, but you knew exactly why he was so excited. Despite his calm demeanor on the drive over, you knew that Brian was just as eager as you to tell the boys about your engagement.

As Brian and Roger started talking about a new album Roger has picked up, a timer went off, signalling that the food was ready.

“And that will be supper,” Freddie exclaimed, “you two came just in time!”

He took you by the hand and lead you into the dining room.

“I had your favourite made” he said, “thought it was appropriate since you and Brian have a ‘special announcement’ to make” he gave you a teasing smile.

You couldn’t help the smile of your own that spread across your face as you sat down for dinner.

—————

The meal had been delicious, and the conversation as free flowing as the wine that was passed around the table.

In spite of the comfort and ease you felt around the boys on a daily basis, you couldn’t stop your leg from bouncing nervously throughout the meal.

While Freddie, John, and Roger were too caught up in their conversation to notice, Brian could sense your nerves immediately. He placed a hand on your knee to stop the bouncing and leaned over to whisper in your ear.

“It’s alright love, we’ll tell them in no time.”

His breath tickled your ear and you two shared a sweet smile as he lightly squeezed your leg.

You turned your head back to the men in front of you and were hit with an unexpected jolt in your stomach as your eyes met Roger’s piercing blue ones.

He quickly looked away, stretching back into his seat and giving an exaggerated yawn.

“I’m about to fall asleep Fred, I’d say it’s time for some coffee and desserts, yeah?”

And with that, you all got up and made your way back to the living room for dessert. And more importantly, for your special announcement.

—————-

After you’d finished your cake and the coffee had gone cold, you and Brian finally decided it was time to tell the boys. Brian could tell you were close to bursting from excitement, so he reached over taking your hand in his and cleared his throat.

“So I know you’ve all been waiting for our special news tonight.”

“Yeah mate, we were wondering when you’d get to that,” John teased.

“Anyways,” Brian continued, “as you all know, y/n and I have been together for a while now, and we’ve fancied each other for a lot longer than that.”

The boys murmured in agreement at that.

“...and so we decided that, we’ll actually it was me who went and—"

“Oh will you just get on with it!” Roger interrupted, shifting on the couch.

“Oh hush Roger!” Freddie quipped, “they were just about to tell us.”

“Well, you know what they say” you took over for Brian, “first comes the house, then comes marriage…” you trailed off, pulling out your engagement ring and discretely slipping it back onto your finger.

“Alright, and…” John said, clearly confused about what you were implying. None of the boys had noticed your ring yet.

You were spared from having to explain because in a small voice that belonged to the blond drummer, you heard,

“They’re engaged.”

“Yes, yes we are!” Brian exclaimed.

He was positively beaming with delight. You excitedly showed off your ring to the boys as they got up to give you each a hug.

“How wonderful!”

Freddie and John each gave you and Brian tight hugs.

“I always knew you two would end up together,” Freddie dropped his voice so that only you could hear, “I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. Not even when you two were broken up.”

You began to tear up at Freddie’s words, remembering how you and Brian had taken a break for several months due to the strain of Queen’s constant touring. The fact that you and Brian were now engaged only seemed to solidified the fact that you two were meant to be together.

“I think this calls for some celebratory drinks!” Freddie called over his shoulder as he put an upbeat record on.

Meanwhile, John was excitedly pressing Brian about wedding details.

“Oh, I don’t know really, we’ve only been engaged for a little while.” Brian laughed at John’s enthusiasm.

You were about to join in on their conversation when you noticed an absence in the room.

Roger. Where had he gone?

You excused yourself to go to the washroom, instead poking your head into every room in search of the drummer.

—————

After searching most of the main floor, and even the garden, you finally spotted the back of the blond’s head as you passed by the kitchen.

“There you are! I’ve been looking this place up and down for you!”

You gave Roger a wide smile as he turned around, clearly startled by your presence for a second time tonight. But your smile faltered, quickly being replaced by a look of concern as you took in the sight in front of you.

Roger’s eyes were red-rimmed and...wet.

He’d been crying.

“Oh Roger, what’s happened?” You sped over to where he was sitting by the counter, reaching out a hand to place on his shoulder.

He backed away from your touch.

You furrowed your brows, hurt by Roger’s evasion.

He felt awful. You must be upset that he’d run off after your announcement, not even giving a word of congratulations. He was embarrassed that you’d found him alone sulking in a kitchen while everyone else was celebrating. He felt selfish and pathetic.

Most of all, he hated how heartbroken he was over that fact that you were going to marry Brian. The sight of the elegant ring on your hand was enough to make him feel nauseated.

He wanted you to leave so that he could be sulk in peace.

“Roger, please tell me what’s going on,” you pleaded, “we’ve known each other for years. You can tell me anything.”

You hesitantly reached out to touch his arm. This time he let you. He let out a deep sigh as you began to rub comforting circles on his back.

“Roger, it’s alright,” you softened your voice, “you can trust me.”

He felt absolutely pathetic. He had walked out on your and Brian’s engagement announcement only for you to find him crying in Freddie’s kitchen. The reality that you’d never be his coupled with the fact that you were unknowingly comforting him about it was too much for him to handle.

“No, I can’t talk about it with you.” He sighed. “It’s nothing. Really y/n, you should go find the rest of the guys. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Roger ran his hands through his hair, turning away as you tried to hide his face from you again.

You wanted to be understanding, but you were starting to become slightly annoyed, not to mention concerned, by his avoidance of the issue.

“Listen Roger, I don’t want to press you, but it’s clearly not ‘nothing’.” You couldn’t remember ever seeing him so upset. “I know it might be hard to talk about, but I promise you’ll feel better once you’ve gotten it off your chest.”

“You don’t get it, y/n!” His sudden burst caused you to take a step back. “I don’t have an issue talking about it. I just can’t tell you about it!”

He jumped off his stool and began to pace as he tried to collect himself. He didn’t want this to happen. Not here, and not now. This wasn’t how you were supposed to discover his feelings for you.

“Oh…” You were hurt, but not surprised that Roger didn’t want to tell you. You figured he might be more comfortable talking to one of the boys. Maybe you should go and get Brian.

But just as you had the thought of fetching your fiancé, another thought entered your mind.

Roger had been on edge the entire night. In fact, he’d seemed oddly nervous for such a self- assured guy. Not to mention the times you’d caught him staring throughout the night (a common occurrence, now that you thought about it). And then there was the final piece of the puzzle. While Freddie and John had excitedly congratulated you and Brian on your engagement, Roger was nowhere to be found. Instead, he’d been alone in the kitchen. Crying.

You knew it was a long shot, and you didn’t want to make things worse by offending Roger, but you thought you had an inkling about what was upsetting him.

“Is this...is this about me?” you asked hesitantly.

“What?” His tone was panicked as he lifted his face from his hands to meet your eyes. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights. This could not be happening.

“I mean, is this about Brian and I? You know...our engagement?”

Roger suddenly looked very pale. Oh fuck...this definitely could not be happening right now.

Tonight was meant to be one of the happiest nights of your and Brian’s lives and he was about to ruin it. As much as his brain was telling him to just shut up and not ruin two perfectly  good friendships, he couldn’t quiet the nagging in the back of his mind. It was a faint voice, but it was insistent, and it was begging him to just tell you, because this might be his last chance.

Roger was scared to death, but he knew it was what he had to do. If he didn’t tell you now, he would regret it for the rest of his life. He like he was going to throw up from what he was about to confess. On shaky legs he turned to face you, his face showing a mix of fear and determination.

“It’s ok Roger” you reassured him,

Just say it. He thought to himself.

And he did.

He said the five words that you had subconsciously expected, but they still shocked you all the same.

“I’m in love with you.”

They words left his lips in what was nearly a whisper.

You could see the beginnings of fresh tears that started to gather in his eyes. His gaze left yours and his eyes met the floor as tears began to roll down his cheeks. He went to sit back at the counter, silent sobs racking his body.

You were at a complete loss. You said his name like an exhale and went to sit on the stool next to him. The last thing you wanted was to hurt Roger. He was one of the most important people in your life. But you were utterly floored by his confession.

After a moment of silence, you coaxed his eyes up to meet yours.

“Roger, where is this coming from?”

He looked confused and heartbroken at your question.

“What do you mean ‘where is this coming from’?” He gave you an incredulous look. “Isn’t it obvious?”

You shook your head.

Roger sighed and turned towards the counter, beginning to pick off the red paint that coated the countertop.

“I’ve been in love with you for years,” he said, looking utterly defeated. “...was going to ask you out back in uni but you started dating Bri. I couldn’t mess with that you know…” He was beginning to ramble. “...he’s my best mate, and I love him to death…”

Despite his nerves, Roger felt relief wash over him as he slowly started to confess the secret he’d kept bottled up for years. He was starting to go off on a tangent about the day you two had met in your cellular biology lecture, but you let him continue, afraid that if you stopped him you’d never hear the rest of his confession.

“Part of me thought it wouldn’t last.” He looked down, ashamed at his words. “I was waiting for you two to break up—oh fuck, that makes me sound like a terrible friend!” He scoffed.

His eyes met yours again. The atmosphere in the kitchen suddenly feeling incredibly tense.

“And then you kissed me at that party…”

You let out a shaky breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

Shit.

You’d almost forgotten about that. You thought Roger had too.

Nearly two years ago, you’d shared a New Year’s kiss in your drunken and lonely haze. You and Brian had been taking a break at the time.

“Roger, that wasn’t supposed to mean anything,” you said softly, “it was just a friendly kiss. It didn’t mean anything.”

But just as you said it, you felt an uneasy jolt in your stomach.

Had it really meant nothing at all?

You pushed the thought away.

“But friends don’t kiss friends like that!” Roger threw his hands up in a sudden wave of anger. “Don’t you dare tell me it didn’t mean anything! That you didn’t feel what I felt!”

You didn’t answer him.

Not because what he was saying wasn’t true, but because you didn’t want to break his heart anymore tonight.

You reached a hand up to rub your face, only to find that your cheeks were wet with tears.

“We were drunk,” you said softly.

“I wasn’t,” Roger answered firmly, his jaw taut.

“I’m so sorry Rog.” Fresh tears began to stream down your face. “I just...I can’t. I can’t lead you on like this. I love Brian and I’m going to marry him. Believe me Roger, I’m flattered but—”

You were cut short by the blond’s humourless laugh.

“Flattered! For fuck’s sake, y/n, this isn’t some schoolboy crush! I’m in love with you! Do you even understand what that means?”

You knew you were hurting him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his wide, pleading eyes.

“I would give you anything. Absolutely anything, and everything. You have all of me, if you wanted it.”

He took your hand in his and you felt a sob escape your body. “I have never felt for anyone the way I feel about you.” His voice cracked at the end, full of pent-up emotion.

You were speechless.

Roger’s words may not have been the eloquent ones that made up love poems, but they were honest and raw.

“I love you, y/n,” he whispered, “please, I could make you so happy if you’d let me.”

And with those words you broke, letting out an embarrassingly loud sob.

“Roger, I just can’t,” you cried, “you’re absolutely incredible, and anyone would be lucky to have you. But I’m in love with Brian.”

He let go of your hand, clenching his jaw as he tried to hold back more tears.

“And I’m sorry Roger, but I’m going to marry him. He’s the one.”

Roger’s heart was breaking right in front of you and you wanted nothing more than to reassure him that it wasn’t him, but the circumstances that were making you reject him.

“If things had happened differently Roger, maybe we could have—”

But he cut you off.

“Don’t you dare say it,” he said in a deathly calm voice, “...because if you do, you’re just giving me more hope.”

He gently placed a hand beneath your chin, tilting your face up so that your eyes met. Your breath caught as your teary eyes met his now red-rimmed ones.

“If it really meant nothing, if all of this is just in my head, then look me in the eyes and tell me that you feel nothing for me.”

His eyes were pleading you for an answer.

Your brain felt foggy from the flurry of emotion that surrounded the room. You knew what you had to do. The right thing to do would be to let him down firmly. You wanted to be kind and gentle, but you couldn’t leave him with any doubts surrounding your relationship.

But you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything at all.

You knew it was the exact opposite of what you should have done, but you raised your right hand and rested it on his cheek.

Roger let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes. His face relaxed into an expression somewhere between heartache and relief.

You had no idea what you were doing. All you knew was that you shouldn’t be going this. But somehow, it just felt right in the moment.

You didn’t have too much time to think about what you would do next.

In an instant you and Roger were startled by the sound of three voices booming down the hall.

You both sprang apart. Roger stood up and busied himself by looking in the fridge while you picked up an old newspaper on the counter, pretending to read.

“Well they couldn’t have left Brian! That would be absolutely ridiculous!”

You could begin to pick up on Freddie’s district voice as the boys nearer the kitchen.

“Ah, there you are!” You heard your fiancé’s warm voice as the three men entered the kitchen.

You quickly dried your eyes and gave Brian your most convincing smile. Always the attentive one, he immediately noticed your puffy eyes.

“What’s wrong love? Have you been crying?” His expression morphed into one of concern. You knew you couldn’t evade Brian’s question. Something had clearly happened.

Freddie and John looked expectantly over Brian’s shoulders.

“Yes, yes I’m fine Bri! I was just getting emotional is all. Reminiscing about old times with Roger, you know.”

It wasn’t a complete lie.

“Oh, alright then love,” Brian’s smile returned to his face. “I was thinking we should get going. It’s getting late and...I want a bit of time with you to myself.”

He whispered the last part in your ear, causing a pleasant shiver to make its way down your spine. Though you felt guilty as your eyes met Roger’s from across the counter.

In spite of Freddie and John’s jovial moods, you were eager to get home, to escape your conversation with Roger.

You felt ashamed for leaving Roger hanging. For inadvertently leading him on with your non-answer. But you needed time to process what had happened tonight and get your emotions in check.

As you and Brian said your goodbyes to the boys, you quietly promised you’d give him a call.

“This conversation isn’t over Rog, there’s still a lot we need to discuss.”

He nodded in agreement. He placed a soft kiss on your cheek.

To the rest of the men in the kitchen it appeared to be nothing more than a friendly peck, but you knew it meant so much more.

You could feel Roger’s longing for you as his lips left your cheek.

Your heart ached at the thought.

And that night, as you lay in the arms of your sleeping fiance you couldn’t fight the intense waves of guilt. Because as you were held by the man to whom you’d given your heart, all you could think about was his best friend.

Thank you so much for reading my first  fic ever! If you liked it, or have any feedback, I’d love to know! xx

[justknitstuff]

3, 6 and 9 for that lovely "Time Twins" aka mother of all ML dark collab fics (the one where @quickspinner, @verfound & Co. added in their parts too) ;) Lmao 😈😉😊 (Also, I read you've never gotten an ask before, I was shocked, I will bombard you with fluffy asks 😂 ^_^)

Yay bombard me! I've been on Tumblr for a few years now and this is legit the first ask I've gotten. People have DM'ed me before... But I'm just a smol girl around here.

Ok so the ficlets that launched a thousand tears!

#3. I actually have a line from each part that I like. From 'Voices On the Battlefield' it's: What they didn't want to hear, what made even the tough as nails Queen Bee and unshakeable Bunnix's blood run cold, was Viperion calmly calling for the team to "wait..."

That's the first line that actually came to me and gave birth to both... Because my thought is literally if Viperion is telling someone to wait, that means he most likely had to reset.

The second from'Voices In My Head' is: He'll keep his memories, his secrets, and take them to his own grave, as long as he can keep his friends out of theirs.

For obvious painful reasons XD

#6. What makes is different is it's the first time I've tried balls to the wall angst. And that's saying something cause I came from the Attack on Titan fandom where you blink and someone's dead! Ripe with angst! But I was never really able to write angst for them. But Ladybug, there's so many 'what if's' to play with. I want them all to be happy, absolutely! But this series is really tickling my 'torture the cinnamon rolls' bone that I didn't think I had in me.

#9. Nope! With my drabbles that I post on here, what you see is what you get! Sometimes if I really like it I'll throw it at my beta reader and ask for a quick spell and punctuation check. But most of the time I'll write the drabble in a Tumblr post as is. The Lila salt fic got a better check, but.. Yeah. No alternates for the 'Voices' pieces!

[baronessblixen]

Let’s Bee Together

This is for the awesome @realmofextremepossibility , destroyer of straws and my intercontinental everything 😘 

Once upon a time she asked me to write this story for her: Set during IWTB: Scully comes home from the hospital to find a bored and restless Mulder has picked up an interesting new hobby: apiculture. 

It took me this long to come through, but tada! Here we go. Tagging @today-in-fic

The sun is low as Scully steers the car towards the house. She parks, not caring how bad of a job she's doing. They've got enough space out here in rural Virginia. The warm breeze tickles her skin and she takes a deep breath. Home. Her steps are heavy as she walks up the porch. There's no sight of Mulder. She steps inside and is surprised how cool it is and how dark. Scully switches on a light, hangs up her coat and looks for Mulder in his office. The room is just as dark, abandoned and messy. That makes her smile. But he's not there either.

"Mulder?" She's shocked how brittle her voice sounds. She rubs her hand over her eyes, exhaustion at her fingertips. She switches into her comfortable sneakers and puts on Mulder's old sweater that he's thrown over a chair. It smells like him. The air is turning colder and licks at her skin as she walks outside. When she hears a buzzing sound, she's convinced she's going insane. Until, finally, she finds Mulder. If that man is indeed the man she's spent the last 15 years with.

"Mulder?" She doesn't dare walk closer to him. He's wearing… something. And he's surrounded by… bees. Lots and lots of bees. She rubs her eyes again, not certain she is here, is awake and not dreaming. But Mulder is still there, as are the bees, as is the buzzing. "Mulder!" she yells, needing him to explain what the hell is going on.

"Scully, hi." Even through the veil, she can see him grin. She'd never thought she'd see him like this. Mulder is in full gear. Veiled hat, full protective suit and boots. He's a vision in white and she'd laugh if she wasn't completely frozen. Not to mention confused. How long has she not been home?

"Surprise," he says, lifting his arms. His polyester rustles as he walks closer to her. He smells like plastic, the warm sun and honey. Scully can't do anything but stare at him. She can't even find her voice to ask him what all of this is about. "We have bees."

"I can see that," she says with a hard swallow. The bees seem content over there at their hive, buzzing happily around, not coming closer. But bees make her nervous, even after all these years. Her skin is itching under her clothes and she wants to go away, back inside, and never see these bees ever again. "Why do we have bees, Mulder?"

He shrugs, his smile spreading over his whole face. If she's honest, she hasn't seen him smile like this in a while. A long while. After the Monica Bannan case and Mulder's reinstatement as a non-dead and non-fugitive person, he's become restless. Scully thought he'd be happy to be able to go out again, like a normal person. Except Mulder has never been normal. Isolation has changed him. The first time she asked him to accompany him to a hospital function, he hesitated. Told her to go on her own and have fun. As if she couldn't have fun with him. She's waited years to be with Mulder out in the open. She dragged him with her, pleading with him, and he went. It wasn't a full-blown disaster, but close to it. After that, it was hard to get Mulder out of the house at all.

Now she realizes that his pale complexion has taken on color. His cheeks are rosy, healthy. His eyes are sparkling again.

"I was bored," he admits with a boyish smile. "You kept saying I needed a hobby. You were right. My novel is going nowhere and I wanted to do something."

"But… bees? Why didn't you tell me about them?" That's when his expression gets sheepish. He's been planning a surprise; she recognizes the signs.  

"I thought I'd wait until I could present you our first homegrown honey. I had this whole thing planned." With a cheesy line about her and honey, no doubt. She smiles at him, feels guilty that she's ruined it now. She eyes the hive, the bees around it. "They're harmless," Mulder says, sensing her discomfort.

"They're bees, Mulder. Bees sting. You can talk all you want in your protective gear."

"I might have bought a suit for you, too. It was supposed to be part of the surprise. Do you want me to get it?" She shakes her head no and if Mulder is disappointed, he hides it well. He takes off his hat.

"You really know what you're doing there?" From her standpoint, it looks like he's got everything he needs. It looks, and she barely dares to think it, professional.

Mulder nods, stepping closer to her. "I've been reading a lot. I didn't want to go into it and not be prepared."

"How is it that you have no stings?" Has she just not seen them? When was the last time they've made love? The last time she's touched, let alone seen, his naked body? She gets home late at night, with Mulder already asleep. In the morning, when she leaves, he's still in bed. She's been missing everything. There's a beehive behind her house and she had no idea.

He shrugs. "I'm good at this, Scully."

"You're good at everything you put your mind to." She means it, too. Shortly after they went on the run, Mulder decided he needed to learn how to cook. It was the easiest, safest way for them to eat. And learn to cook he did. Every once in a while he still cooks for her and it's never been anything but excellent. She never would have thought he'd be interested in beekeeping, though. After all this time, she's still learning new things about him.

"You know," his whole face lights up in a smile, "there's a book called Bee Sex Essentials. That one really held my interest."

"Does everything come back to sex, Mulder?"

"Well, doesn't it? Anyway, it was the first book I read."

"Of course it was," she chuckles and Mulder continues.

"The title spoke to me but ever since then, I've been so fascinated by bees. Scully, these little insects are amazing." She takes his hand and smiles at him, hoping he'll keep going. How she's missed seeing him like this. His enthusiasm has always been contagious. He loves this. She sees it in the way the corners of his mouth twitch.

"I've been thinking about joining a beekeeping club."

"There are clubs?" He nods, a quick, excited movement.

"There's one not far from here. I'll show you later. They've got a website and everything. If you want," he adds, like an afterthought.

"I want," Scully assures him. "I feel like… Mulder, when did all this happen? When did you do all this?" His smile wavers, a shadow flickering over his face. She understands. She hasn't been home much lately. It's not just that they haven't made love. When was the last time they spent an evening together, doing nothing? When was the last time they talked, really talked? She can't remember and it's not Mulder's fault. Her whole life is at the hospital.  

"I'm sorry," she says before he even gets a chance to explain. The simple words chip away at her and she feels a deep longing to hug him, to keep him close and not let go.

"I'm happy you love your work so much, Scully. I am. Seeing you as a doctor, doing something you love, it's… it's breathtaking. I just needed to find something for myself that made me feel the same way."

"And then you found the bees."

He chuckles. "I found the bees. It's a hobby, Scully. This is not my calling. It's a way to spend my time and do something so I don't… you know." She nods. So that he doesn't become restless or worse, fall into the cold abyss of depression. She shudders, thinking about it. Mulder draws her closer, shielding her from the cool air and her own thoughts.

"But how did you- where did all of this come from?" The fact that there are approximately hundreds of bees living in the backyard now makes her uneasy. She wants Mulder to be happy and she wants him to have this. But… does it have to be bees?

"I bought them. Well, I bought a nuc," he laughs when he sees her confused expression, "it's just terminology. And of course, I bought a queen." The pride in his voice is evident.

"You have a queen?"

"You need a queen, Scully. I have two, actually." He kisses her nose softly.

"The queens tolerate each other?"

"We'll see." He winks at her and takes her hand. Now she understands. She lets him lead her over to the small wooden hive. The buzzing gets louder the closer they get.

"Mulder, I'm not sure-" he puts a finger on her lips and then puts the hat he had on earlier over her head. It's too big for her but it will work for the moment.

"Aren't they just beautiful?" Squeezing Mulder's hand tight, she watches. Her fear vanishes with every second. The bees won't attack her. They're working. They're busy little bees, doing their job. A smile breaks across her face, the sheer joy of watching this little world overwhelming her. Mulder's eyes are on her face, warming her. He, too, is smiling.

"So what does my queen bee think of my… honey queen?"

"We both think you should come up with better lines." But she grins at him.

"Come on, let's go inside."

"Why?"

"It's getting cold and the bees don't need us here. I, however, would like to kiss you and we don't have the best track record when it comes to kissing around bees." He tugs at her hand and she follows him but stops him once they're far enough from the hive. The buzzing is a distant hum, like music.

"I missed you," she says, interlacing their fingers.

"I missed you, too." She feels like he wants to say more but doesn't. Maybe tonight isn't the time to have a serious conversation. Tonight is about sweetness, like honey, about starting to find a way back.

"This residency is… it's a lot." He nods, understanding. In all of this, in everything they've done since they went on the run all those years ago, Mulder has been nothing but understanding. Now it's her time. If Mulder wants to keep bees, then he will keep bees. Standing here with him, she realizes it's not him who is restless, it's her. She's been trying to sprint towards more, towards other things. Mulder is just here, trying to make a life. As unremarkable as it may seem. Ages ago she asked him if he ever wanted to stop, to have a normal life when their lives were anything but. Now, he's making a new life; he has settled down, with her. Bees and all.

"Can I kiss you now?" he asks with a hint of the impatience she knows so well. Hell, she even missed that part of him. She misses all of him. But she doesn't answer him and she doesn't let him kiss her. Scully gets on tiptoes and presses her mouth to his. There's a hum that gets closer and she breaks their kiss just as Mulder's mouth opens under hers. He mewls and looks disappointed.

"I think… Mulder, I think maybe one of the bees followed us." As if it were 1998 and not 2008, his hand sneaks to her neck, wanders along and under her collar. She shivers, goosebumps exploding on her skin from his simple touch.

"No bee this time." His smile is as gentle as the hand clasping her neck. He leans forward again and right before their lips meet, Scully moves away. "Scully," he whines. "I told you we should go inside. I'm not letting another bee stop me from making love to you."

They giggle all the way upstairs to their bedroom. They close the door behind them and find each other.

With no bee in sight.

[omg-just-peachy]

Idk if you’ve seen the Infinity War interview on Kimmel where Zoe and Tom Holland talk about “Doctor Downey”, but it’s definitely pretty funny and could be inspo for a Stony doc or something with his weird “gels and supplements”.

Ahh, I have seen that and it is adorable! RDJ being the Dad of the MCU and all his friends is just 💙💙💙

Please have this tiny fic you inspired! Not quite gels and supplements, but Tony taking up beekeeping to make raw, local honey because he read that it works as a natural allergy remedy and he wants to help Steve’s allergies :’)

Tony is up on the roof, focusing on the plants in front of him when he feels a pair of strong arms wrap around him from behind, soft lips pressing gentle kisses into his neck. Steve. 

He sighs, relaxing into Steve’s arms. No matter how long they were together, Tony didn’t think he’d ever get over the way Steve’s presence felt like coming home after a long time away. Tony smiles as Steve buries his face into his neck, nuzzling into him before he inevitably starts sniffling; the effects of the bright sun and the pollen everywhere.

Tony hums happily, “Hi,” he says.

Another press of warm lips to his neck and then, “Hi,” murmured soft and low into the crook of his neck, making Tony shiver even in the warmth of the afternoon sun.

Steve pulls away, rubbing at his nose in frustration. It was early in the spring, but that was usually when his allergies were at their worst. The serum had strengthened and heightened almost everything about Steve, but somehow, instead of eliminating his sensitivity to everything spring had to offer, it tended to make his allergies worse. Like now.

“FRIDAY told me you were up here. What are you doing?” Steve asks, and Tony can hear husky, congested quality his voice has already taken on.

“Oh, come here,” Tony says, moving in so they’re pressed close together again. “I wanted to show you this,” he says, moving to the side to reveal what looked like three stacked wooden boxes amid the flowers he had growing up there.

“Boxes and f-flowers?” Steve asks, rubbing at his nose as if the word alone starts it tickling.

“Boxes, yes, but boxes of bees, Steve. I named the queen Pepper; I think it’s fitting, don’t you? Anyway, they’re from here in New York, which means the raw honey they produce in these hives I built should help with your allergies,” Tony says proudly.

Steve takes an instinctive step back at the word bees. “Tony, I don’t t-think ihh-Itshhiew! Oh, god…” Steve pinches at his nose in an attempt to fight back the itch that’s taken hold of him.

“Sweetheart,” Tony is about an octave away from cooing as he murmurs sympathetically, rubbing Steve’s shoulder. “Bless you! See, that’s why I started this,” he continues. “I was reading about honey as a natural remedy for allergies, and since your chemically-induced, though gorgeous, -” Tony pauses to kiss Steve lightly, smiling into it. “…body is what did this, I figured local honey might be the perfect way to counteract the sensitivity from the serum.” 

Tony beams at him. He’d clearly put a lot of thought into this. And work, judging by the amount of supplies he had up there with him. There were tons of different plants out here, and from the looks of it, he’d already started collecting some of the honey, dark and thick in a jar by his side.

“Tony, I love you, and all your potions and gels and supplements, but I think Claritin is fine…” Steve sniffles carefully, as if to drive home his point of being “fine,” before ducking his face into his elbow for another sneeze.

“Bless me,” He sighs.

“It’s not a potion, Steven! It’s honey. Science, just a different kind than I’m used to, that’s all. Anyway, it certainly won’t make you feel worse than you’re feeling now,” Tony raises a questioning brow at his boyfriend.

“Fine, I’ll try it, but only for you,” Steve acquiesces.

“And what a Good Samaritan you are for that,” Tony smirks at him, holding out the jar of honey.

“Come on, honey bee, let’s go see if this helps that nose of yours,” Tony kisses the tip of Steve’s twitching pink nose, turning and heading for the door before Steve can groan at the pun, or the newest addition to an increasingly long list of pet names. It was sweet, he admits to himself, following Tony inside.

[queenbeebumblebee]

"What an incredibly ticklish rival!"

Ler!Alastor Lee!Vox

Summary: Vox was trying to attack Alastor on his radio studio, but the tables turn.. bad.

WARNING: Swearing

Alastor was minding his own business, chilling on his radio tower, the night was loud as always, it's hell after all! While with Vox.. he wasnt AS calm as the radio Demon was, he was in his Office, walking around in circles, ranting of his old rival, he had to get him somehow.. he NEEDED to, he needed his bright Spotlight back.. so, the middle of the night came, Vox was climbing up the radio tower of Alastor, because he would've been damned to Even Enter the Doors of the newly Hazbin hotel, just as Alastor was drinking coffe, he could tell his "old pal" was nearby, so he was more than ready..

As Vox entered the radio tower by breaking into a Window, the loud crashes from the glass could be heard.. and yet.. he was met with Alastor, Standing above him with his usual grin.

"greetings old pal! What brings You here at this hour of the night?"

Alastor said calmly and happily, just his usual self around people, this of course pisses Vox a Lot, the frown on his screen was obvious, yet he somehow stayed.. calm around the radio Demon, as if he was still fond of him after 7 literal years.

"i came here to stop You, You old timey prick! I'm here to regain My popularity ba-"

and before Vox was gonna finish his sentence, a black tentacle grabbed his ankles, lifting him from the ground, upside down, his vulnerability exposed for Alastor to see, which the tv Overlord hated.

"i'm afraid You can't do that friend, not right now, since it's pretty late, but since You are here.. i decided to have some... fun with you."

Alastor said, his voice twisting into a teasing nad evil voice, his grin widening as if he was about to attack Vox.

"W-WOAH! Hey hey hey, don't You DARE-"

Suddenly, Vox could feel tickling right on his sides and tummy, sending him into an uncontrolable fit of giggles and snorts, And Alastor was Even just using his tentacles to Tickle him, it wasnt much, but for Vox.. it was.

"h-hehehehey nohoho! Nohohot fahahahair!!"

Vox said, unable to speak properly, Even though it was small tickling.. poor him was just too ticklish for this.. yet he liked it, but he would rather get killed with holy weaponry rather than to admit it.

"what an incredibly ticklish rival i have in My hands tonight! Are these Bad spots? Or should i go somewhere else?"

Alastor teased, now, his fingers slowly pinching Vox's ribs, sometimes Even wiggling them Across his Armpits, causing the poor Vox to break into cackles, his laughter getting louder by the second.. he couldnt help it since it felt so nice..

"FUHUHUCK YOHOHOU! AAH! SHIHIT, NOHOHOT THEHEHERE!!"

Vox yelled as he threw his head back in laughter as Alastor pinched his Upper ribs and lower ribs, those we're oh so sensitive, and he wasnt Even going for the antennas.. that Made some shivers down Vox's spine just by thinking of it. It was getting too much, he was Even letting out sparks of electricity, because he was so overwhelmed by the feeling. Until..

"oh look at that! I found your sweet spot!"

"AAAAHH! NOOOHOHOHO, NOT THERE DAHAHAMN IT! IHIHILL KILL YOU AHAHAFTER THIHIHIHIIS!!"

Vox yelled loudly as Alastor wiggled his fingers across his antennas.. if the radio tower wasnt to far from the hotel, the whole crew would woken up by the sounds of cackles and snorts. Yet his arms we're free.. he could just get him back, but did he really wanted to do that? No, no he don't.. he likes it alot, Even more when he gets Tickled by the other Vees.

The minutes had passed, Alastor finally let Vox go, with the radio Demon now gone from the shadows, Vox hasnt had much of a choice to go back to the V tower, he was still feeling the Tickles, he could still hear the teasing.. he wanted it again, but the Vees couldnt do it better than Al, so..

He had to come back another day..

THE END

[zwei-the-penguin-with-a-pen]

‘Lost at Sea’

"Are those two ever going to show up?" Ruby complained. Waiting for Weiss and Yang was never much fun; the two of them were so extra that it took AGES for them to get ready for dates.

"To be fair, we showed up early because someone read their Scroll wrong..." Blake nicked. Ruby rolled her eyes at her girlfriend.

"I wasn't all the way awake yet!" The little red slayer replied, sticking her tongue out at Blake. One of Blake's cat ears twitched at that.

"Don't flash your tongue at me unless you want to make Yang and Weiss jealous when they do finally get here..." Blake twitched her eyebrows at Ruby. Ruby blushed at the feline femme fatale. Ruby couldn't resist the urge to reach up and tickle one of Blake's upper ears. "NO!" Blake swatted at Ruby's hand.

"You're so cute, Kitty Cat..." Ruby blushed as she complimented Blake. Blake turned red, suddenly catching the urge to scoop Ruby up and spin her around in circles. She instead just hugged her tightly.

"You're even cuter, Little Red," Blake told the apple of her eye.

"I respect your opinion... even if it's physically impossible." Ruby stood on her tiptoes and kissed Blake softly on the lips.

"You two are gross!" They heard someone call out to them. They pulled apart to and looked to see Yang and Weiss walking toward them, holding hands. Yang had made the comment, so Ruby would offer a stiff rebuttal.

"As if you two are any less disgusting!" Ruby returned, puffing her chest out for good measure. Blake smirked, as Ruby's action pushed their chests together.

"Oh my..." Blake joked. Ruby turned ten shades of red at that. Yang rolled her eyes at the two of them.

"Stop seducing my sister, Blake!" She joked, knowing neither of them liked that idea. Blake hugged Ruby even more tightly.

"But she's my favorite!!" Blake retorted, Yang rolling her eyes even more.

"So, we got here thirty minutes early, and you two still got here late!" Ruby complained. Weiss scoffed at the little red slayer.

"I had to find the perfect outfit! Looking this incredible is a process, Ruby!" Weiss shot back. Blake scoffed. "Hush, Cat Ears!"

"You could at least have thought up a decent excuse, Brain Freeze!" Blake fired. "We both know you and Yang were feeling each other up! That's why you two are late for everything!" Ruby threw Blake a high five for that.

"Is she wrong, Snowdrop?" Yang conceded, making certain Weiss wouldn't get herself into an actual argument. Weiss was pretty passionate and could argue for ages about nothing at all if someone let her.

The white queen sighed and kissed her golden dragon.

"GAY!!!" Blake nicked, though the two of them paid her no attention. Shucks, it was no fun when they didn't act up.

"Soooo... what are we getting up to today, ladies?" Ruby asked aloud, talking to no one in particular. The four of them stood around and thought about it for a while.

"Well, there's a new Puma Thurman movie out!" Blake suggested. Yang seemed intrigued by the idea. Puma Thurman always made remarkable movies, even if she'd stopped making musicals.

"None of the theaters are even open yet, though. What can we do to eat up some time?" Weiss mentioned. Ruby caught an idea.

"What about the music store? I saw a gorgeous piano in their window the other day!" She suggested. She loved hearing Weiss play the piano and sing. Blake could play a little guitar, too, so maybe those two could jam together. The four of them seemed to like Ruby's idea, so the four of them made for Williams' Music Shop.

"Welcome to Williams' Music! Can I help you ladies find anything today? OH, hello Miss Belladonna!" The clerk greeted them. She seemed to recognize Blake.

"Hey, Casey! Is your dad around? I don't want him to show me up!" Blake replied. She walked up to the counter to speak to Casey while Weiss took a seat at the nearest piano. She played a tune with her right hand to test the sound, soon adding chords with her left.

Yang danced to her girlfriend's lovely music. Weiss smiled as she watched Yang sway and twirl.

Mesmerized by the flames inside your eyes

I gaze out onto the horizon. Baby, you're my sunrise!

You guide me back shore when I get lost at sea.

Swimming in your waves always makes me so happy~~~

The lyrics in Weiss's mind poured out of her mouth before she realized she was singing. Yang had stopped dancing and was now staring at Weiss, her mouth agape.

"Did you just sing about me? In this music store?" Yang asked her. Weiss blushed brightly, her pale skin turning ten shades of red. Yang scooped her into a hug and picked her up, spinning around with her small girlfriend in her arms.

Weiss smiled and kissed Yang, and the two of them stayed attached at the lips for a few moments.

"Hey, easy on the PDA! I don't get to make out while I'm working!" A man's voice called out to them. Jeff, Casey's dad and the owner of the music shop, had appeared from a hidden area. He was now talking with Blake and Casey.

"So, Pops, check out my super cute girlfriend!" Blake bragged to the older man. The brown-haired man eyed the red slayer.

"She's cute, Blake!" He complimented. "Have you played her any of those songs you showed me?" He asked Blake, the black cat blushing as her eyes went wide.

"Songs?" Ruby asked.

"Well, looks like the cat's out of the bag, so to speak! I've been writing some tunes for you, Little Red! I don't know if any of them are good or not, but Jeff and Casey have suffered through them a few times." Blake confessed, folding her ears over in embarrassment.

"Suffered? Blake, your writing is pretty great!" Casey cheered her on from behind the counter.

"Your guitar chops are getting pretty nice, too!" Jeff added. Blake rolled her eyes and took up an acoustic guitar from a wall hanger. She drummed up a beat on the guitar's body before strumming a few chords.

Sitting there looking so pretty

How did I ever get so lucky?

To stumble across someone just like you?

Your smile sends me through the ceiling

Your touch ignites my feelings

But how could I ever deserve you?

­­­­_____ I've lost sight of the shoreline, but you pull me back

You shine brighter than the moonlight on the sea

This lonely cat could never repay you for that?

Is there any gemstone quite as precious as Ruby?

"It needs another verse, but I'm getting there. I promise..." Blake admitted sheepishly as she finished singing her song. Ruby's face was hidden behind her hair. "Ruby? Are you okay?" Blake placed the guitar back into its hanger, and Ruby suddenly rushed her and hugged her.

"BLAKE! IT'S BEAUTIFUL!!" Ruby cheered, planting fast and erratic kisses onto Blake's face.

"HEY! Didn't I just say not to get fresh in my store?" Jeff cracked, halfway joking.

"Yeah, but you were talking to Weiss and Yang! You didn't say anything about us!" Blake retorted with a laugh.

"You're all terrible! You know that, right?" Casey joked.

Team RWBY left the music shop before long, making their way to the nearest movie theater. The new Puma Thurman flick was a tad disappointing compared to her last one, but it was a decent show all the same.

Yang and Weiss spent most of the movie kissing while Blake and Ruby had their eyes glued to the screen throughout the presentation.

\/\/\/\/\/ \/\/\/\/\/ \/\/\/\/\/

Day Twenty-Seven: Outfit Swap

I never follow this prompt, so I swapped ships instead of outfits! I PRESENT TO YOU MY FIRST FREEZERBURN FIC! And my second Ladybug fic.

I don’t ship either of these as fervently as I ship White Rose and Bumbleby, but I’m not opposed to any Team RWBY ship. Except ‘Enabler’. That’s disgusting. I don’t really understand Monochrome but I’ve seen cute fanart and stuff. If the Roses and Bees don’t happen, I would love Freezerburn and Ladybug.

They would confuse me, but I would love them all the same.

[limpblotter]

BEE-LiEVE in LovE

a/n: happy 2k I guess............I wrote you monsters a bee movie fic

Ken was beside himself. Really, he was beside himself. He had a full cut out made in his honor, now that he didn’t have a tennis partner or a girlfriend anymore; he made do with what he had. And what he had was a standing cut out of his gorgeous face pouting while sassily holding a racket with a slight, cocked hip. “Sometimes I think about her you know?” Ken turned to his cardboard cutout with a defeated sigh. “Not like, a lot because that’s pathetic, I mean how can you leave this for an insect? I bet he doesn’t even look good in white polos like me.” He turned to the cut out of himself and nodded. “Like us, sorry.”

Ken spun the racket in his hand and served the ball across the court. He watched as the green ball whizzed to no one on the other side and bounced off the adjacent wall. “I mean bees? Really what does she even have in common with him? It’s borderline Bee-astiality .” He grunted while serving a second ball. “And stripes? Totally 2007; plus stripes make her look fat!”

Pause.

He turned back at his cutout. “That wasn’t too mean, she use to say that all the time. Her words, not mine.” Ken felt the inanimate judgmental eyes bore into his back. In a fit of frustration he tossed the racket up and over the perimeter of the tennis court. He watched as the racket spun up in the air making a perfect arch before landing smack in some poor, Hispanic lady’s garden nearby. “Yea, yea I’ll get that, I know. You want to blame gentrification on me too?”

His Gucci tennis shoes hoisted themselves up and walked out of the crudely placed, expensive tennis club in the middle of a poverty ridden strip of New York City. He walked around to the garden that belonged to some old lady that was shouting in Spanish, no doubt about the racket that was now soundly a part of her rose bush. “Si, si si” Ken held up a wad of money and chucked it at her like a bad card dealer playing 52 pickup. “I’ll be out of your hair soon, ciao~”

There was a small part of his brain that said he could afford to buy a new racket. But he had the same racket since Vanessa left him. They had matching ones to bee honest. Both engraved with his face at the bottom of the handle as a reminder of their solitary…to how awesome he was. Now she broke that crust, she broke it for someone who wasn’t even half the man he was.

Or a quarter.

Actually, he wasn’t a man at all. “GOD DAMNIT.” He slammed his foot down on a rake and launched the pole straight into his face. Betrayed not only by the woman who adored him enough to be worthy of his love and physics, Ken was blinded by rage (and pain). He rubbed his nose repeatedly, eyes snapped shut as he tried very hard not to cuss in some poor lady’s crappy garden.

“That was Italian by the way…” a small voice buzzed close to his face. Instinctively he swatted his hand in front of him and didn’t manage to hit anything. “Woah, woah I was just tellin you some very sound information here buddy.”

Ken wrinkled his nose, feeling small tickling at the very tip. When he opened, his practically went cross eyed finding a thin faced, stinger-less bee standing on his nose. “W-WhaaA”

“The thing you said to the lady is Italian. I mean, common misconception but—“ Adam waved his hand around playing off the mistake casually. “It gets to the beest of us”

Something about the yellow and black stripped 30 millimeter sized insect that sent Ken’s head into a rage. Perhaps a struck nerve, “Don’t you dare talk to me!” He swatted at the bee, his hand missing the buzzing fellow each time.

“Woah there!” Adam yelped, moving away far enough to safely adjust his glasses. “If I didn’t know any better I would say you were upset at me for some reason! Do I know you…?” He rubbed one of six limbs against his yellow, pointed chin.

“OH Like you don’t!”

“Well I don’t seem to remember….wait were you the guy that took the last honey bun from the shelf at 196th bodega?”

“STOP THE ACT!” Ken’s arms went stiff at his sides as he clenched his fists tightly. “I know all you bees are related! You all know each other so you know HIM.”

Adam pouted a bit, “Well that’s very offensive, we’re all loosely related. I mean sure we serve the same Queen who may or may not be all of our mothers making us somewhat like siblings. Halfsies at best but I only know about ten thousand of my nearest relatives give or take.” Adam smiled only to narrowly miss another hand coming his way.

All the information went over Ken’s head, he hissed as his hand missed, whipped around and hit himself soundly on the face. “THAT BEE THE ONE THAT STOLE MY WOMAN.”

“Uh…” Adam blinked a bit and shrugged. “I’m not sure who you’re referring to.”

“How many BEES steal a devilishly handsome man’s woman?”

“Oh, more than you think. We bees are unBEElieveable romantics.”

Ken deadpanned for the longest time before rolled his eyes, “well Vanessa was MY woman. Your brother or whatever he is took her from me.”

“OHOH Baressa?”

“Excuse me?”

“Baressa, its their ship name, you know the kids made it up, it went pretty viral after their wedding in Bora Bora.”

“---wedding? ---Bora bora?” Ken’s voice broke in as many places as his heart did. “I …can’t believe it.”

“Yeah, those two were a match made in heaven, I was there for it. Bee-st man.” He thumbed towards himself proudly.

His head was reeling as Adam continued to talk, Ken held up his hand weakly, shaking his head back and forth. “Please just…stop making the bee puns…” Ken choked feeling emotion bubble up inside of him. “If so much as hear a buzz I’m going to lose it!” He knelt down in melodramatic frustration. He sat there, head in his hands and knees pulled up to his chest.

“Hey, hey…I’m sorry.”

“Excuse you?”

“Vanessa…she left you for Barry and he might bee my best friend but I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

Ken shook his head, letting it hang in shame. “She wasn’t suppose to break up with me…I-I’ve resorted to thinking there is something wrong with ME.” He placed a hand on his chest.

Adam buzzed around and landed on the top of Ken’s knee, wry that he was going to be swatted at. “Hey, there is nothing wrong with you! Take it from me, I’m a bee without a stringer, talk about having something wrong.” Adam turned and shook his stingerless-beehind at Ken. “Sure I get a couple of weird looks but I pull through, you on the other hand! You’re top notch human ideals.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say top notch.” Ken chuckled at the sensation of his ego being stroked. “Please continue.”

“Well I couldn’t help but notice your racket, you must have quite an arm on you to have thrown that all the way over here, amirite?” Adam flew over to Ken’s arm and patted his bicep. “As I expected, extraordinarily fit for a species that’s eating themselves into oblivion.” He stroked small circles along Ken’s white polo.

Ken’s smile beeamed, it had been so long since someone other than himself and his cutout were complimented. By a bee? Yes he would admit it was strange but certainly not unwelcomed. “I can see how Vanessa may have fallen for one of you, you are quite the charmer…I suppose you can say”

“Oh?” Adam’s tiny, microscopic eyes lit up.

“…I know what all the buzzzzz is about.”

“HA, BUZZ BEE-CAUSE I’M A BEE” Adam slapped all four of his knees and doubled back in laughter, sprawling flat on his back on the top of Ken’s arm. “You know, if I were Vanessa I would have stayed with you.”

“What? No, really?”

“OF course! Between you and me, Barry might look like the whole package but he is far from  bee-ing Mr. Perfect.”

Ken held up his arm so Adam was closer to his face. “Oh do tell.”

“For one he snores…”

Man and Bee sat around and spoke for hours until the old Hispanic lady kicked them out with the threat of police. Ken walked with Adam in his hand, walking the streets of New York with a smile. “You know Bees aren’t so bad…” Ken found himself admitting after crossing the crosswalk before it was his time.

“I can see why Barry aimed outside the regular dating pool, you humans are Great!”

“Well thank you, I am superbly above most.”

“…bee-cause you’re so tall?” Adam blinked up at Ken.

“Uh… sure.” Ken looked around and paused at a local park.

“Well this is me…” Adam stood up and brushed his wings off. “It was nice getting to know you, Ken. We should do this again.”

“Tomorrow, Tennis?”

“Well I can’t really hold a racket but I’m more than willing try!” Adam started to fly away from Ken waving softly at the human man.

Ken dreamily waved back, watching the bee turn into a dot as he flew off to the nearest flower in the distance. “Beeautiful.” He blushed not mentioning the absence of a stinger to be quiet attractive since he was deathly allergic to bees.

[peeppeephellofatface]

I was thinking of ghost hand varieties this evening. Most of the tie they're human-hand sized, pale, and assertive bu neutral spirits with unclear motivations.

But what if there were different sizes of hands?  Giant hands that could scoop you up?  Tiny baby-sized hands that fly around in swarms, acting in masses?  I can just imagine dozens of itty bitty ghost hands mobbing together to try to pick up a single slice of and sort of bobbing through the air with it :P   What if the different sizes of hands acted together?

Also consider different builds of hands.  There's the traditional chunky cartoon hand and the more graceful, elegant sort of hand I used in that one fic.  But there could also be strong, thick hands that feel supportive and reassuring to their subjects.  Shaky and gnarled, but gentle grandma hands?  Gawky, clumsy hands?  Squishy hands with little nubby fingers?  This is more a matter of color than build but it would be interesting to see dark, shadowy ghosty hands and/or ones with white outlines like photo negatives of the traditional white-glove-style ones.

And ghost hand personalities would also be interesting to explore.  As a whole they seem to be fascinated by humans and kinky things, but there's no reason why they all need to be the bold do-first-ask-questions-later sorts.  There could be timid ghost hands that hide in the shadows until beckoned closer and that wait for cues from their subject before acting.  Curious hands that will be interacting their subject with one hand and examining them with the other.  Wrathful hands that tickle subjects if they intrude on their domain?  Maybe stern, responsible hands that constantly clean up messes and insist that their subjects never tell anyone about them in an attempt to hide their existence?  Impatient hands that speed through things like they have places to go and haunt?

It would also be neat to see their individual behaviors.  Like some of them might write things out to communicate, others might prefer to pick up objects or use hand gestures, others might walk around on their fingers mimicking a human/animal body and use that to show body language.  Maybe some pairs of hands are actually two separate spirits that lost their partners ages ago?  Ooh, are pairs of ghost hands one spirit or some sort of team/relationship?  Irregular numbers of hands would be interesting.  Or maybe a pair of two right or two left hands?  Would that be the equivalent of a ghost hand being gay?  

Dammit, now I just want to explore this concept even more.  The idea of social ghost hands is just so fascinating.  I want to know about ghost hand heirarchies.  Do they have a queen like bees or ants?  Why do they like messing with humans so much?  Maybe kinky stuff gives them power?  

[queenbeebumblebee]

... Alright i'm tired.

Who wants me to make Tickle art of Vox and Velvette? BC i need this to happen

If Viv doesnt do it, THEN I WILL

I often think Velvette always Tickle attacks Vox out of Nowhere lol

Anyways WHO WANTS LEE VOX AND LER VELVETTE?!