#and like their eyes dont move different parts just light up and delight when moving the iris of sorts

[chisatowo]

Risa has been designed!! Here's a sketchy ref I made for them that still took me like an hour to draw anyways lol

[foxcort]

comforter (feyre ver). feyre/tamlin, feyre/cassian au, fluff | ao3

a drabble(ish) series of my favorite feyre ships based off these prompts by @dont-call-my-name-alejandro 💚 / floral banners by saradika.

feyre + tamlin; A waking up because of B getting out of bed to do something. A gets out of bed, finds B, and drags them back to bed.

So distantly it was like being wrapped in a fog, Feyre felt the bed shift, the sheets rustle and the sound of light footsteps retreat from the room with attempted quietness. "Tamlin?" she croaked, some barely risen part of her acknowledging he was gone before she patted the empty space beside her.

With a groan, she rolled from the bed, a flurry of messy hair and barely clad skin, before grabbing her discarded robe from the floor and slipping it on. Feyre sifted her fingers through her hair as she followed the path Tamlin was most likely to take, the cold marble underneath her feet gradually waking her with each step, until she ended up at the threshold of the council room. A fairly new addition to the manor, it was one Lucien had insisted be built to house council for both inner and outer court meetings.

At the moment, only Lucien and Tamlin occupied it, the pair of them standing at the head of a very long, ornately carved table washed in the early morning light spilling from the three large windows framing the eastern wall. Tamlin was dressed similarly to her, which was to say half-dressed at best, in a pair of hastily thrown on pants and a matching dark green, silk robe. A delight to her vision, the robe was left loosely tied and mostly open to expose the muscled, golden skin underneath, accentuated even more by the position of his arms crossed over his chest.

And perhaps she hadn't realized just how much Tamlin's visage was affecting her, for Lucien abruptly stopped talking mid-sentence and took a step back to give the high lord a sharp look of indignation. "I understand I've just pulled you away from your wife, but some decency and decorum would be lovely, Tam."

Tamlin, still half-asleep, gave his emissary a confused look, until whatever Lucien had felt belatedly hit him and his gaze shot to hers like some invisible thread had pulled it. Feyre resisted the urge to kiss him right then and there as he sent her a soft, knowing smile. "Morning, love." His voice was husky, unused and did absolutely terrible things to her self-control.

"No. No, no, no, no." Lucien shoved himself between them even as she stalked closer, her eyes never leaving Tamlin’s. “Just because you—" he pointed an accusing finger in her direction, "—are already prepared for this High Lord meeting, does not mean you can come in here and distract Tamlin when I've finally gotten a chance to prepare him." He folded his arms over his chest, looking every bit a courtier in his formal attire. "Don't forget you are the precise reason I haven't been able to find any time to council him yet, Feyre."

Feyre frowned, her gaze shifting between them, before she declared, "He's hardly dressed for a High Lord meeting."

Tamlin gave a low laugh, his fingers working to tie his robe closed and making her wish she'd chosen a different retort. "Lucien's right. As High Lord of Spring, I'm ill-prepared for this meeting."

"So when the time comes, let the High Lady of Spring take the lead," she challenged, turning her attention to him with a smile that was too predatory to be innocent. "You can sit pretty next to me."

Tamlin's returning smile grew wide, though it seemed he was fighting to control it. He turned to his emissary, a sheepish tinge to his smile now. "I could use the extra rest before they all start arriving."

"Please." Lucien rolled his eyes. "Cauldron knows the two of you don't actually use a bed for its intended purpose."

"A bed can have many purposes, Lucien." Feyre moved closer, looping her hands around Tamlin's neck, who was only too eager to lift her into his arms, one arm slung across the back of her thighs and the other supporting her lower back. "Just because you only use yours for sleeping, doesn't mean the rest of us don't have more creative ideas for it." Lucien gave her an unamused look, but she caught the grin curving Tamlin's mouth as he began to walk them out of the room.

"I'd better see you back in here in an hour, my lady."

Feyre had only a second to shout a replied "Fine!" down the hall, before Tamlin's mouth met hers and everything else was forgotten.

feyre + cassian; A keeping B from getting out of bed by holding them closer, maybe a few kisses here and there. / slightly nsfw!!

"You're terrible."

"Mmhm." Cassian's rumbling response, so close to her ear when he had her trapped in his arms and squeezed against his chest, sent a shiver down Feyre's spine. Cauldron boil him, but he knew exactly how to make her body react. Even when he was half-asleep, and almost as well as she knew how to coax a response from him.

Somehow she managed to remember the reason a sense of urgency had woken her from her sleep, snagging onto it even as the warmth of his arms threatened to envelop her whole. “Emerie’s going to kill me if I show up late again.” She'd promised her friend a morning sparring session with the rest of their training group. Unfortunately, Cassian was Cauldron-bent on making her late to everything nowadays and a tiny, restless part of her couldn't blame him. After all their time skirting around the pull that drew them to each other, after finally admitting what they felt . . . neither could convince the other leaving their bed was worth it.

Feyre froze as he dropped a kiss upon her bare shoulder. “No, she won’t." He sounded like he was smiling. “I told her you'd be training with me today.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks, her heart thundering in her chest. “Cassian.”

"Yes, Feyre?" She could feel the teasing smile against her shoulder, her neck, her jaw. Her thoughts were muffled, lost in a collision of a train wreck, the reasonable part of herself drowning in a slew of indecent thoughts just as his fingers curled over her hip. "Should I stop?" He paused his descent and she squeezed his forearm, nails drawing half-moon patterns across his skin. "Would you prefer training with the Valkyries today?"

Frustration flared and Feyre realized he didn't sound so sleepy anymore. No, the bastard was fully awake, tapping those fingers against her hip and refusing to move closer to where she wanted them. "Cassian," she repeated, a growl more than anything.

She felt more than heard his chuckle against her ear, before his fingers dipped lower and she was lost to her pleasure.

[feral-ella-flynn]

Paying the Toll, pt 2: M Troll x F Human, SFW (for now)

Part 1

Male Troll + Female Human

still SFW (so far)

2.5K/6.5K word draft

tagging @feralprose @monster-bait @apocalypticromantic666 @pre-schoolervengance @bresilienne-ami @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic @dont-call-me-a-faerie @kirmalight (comment to be tagged in updates!)

I bet no one expected this to be updated! Including me! This installment is definitely not as long as I intended, because I got really hung up on details--that’s why I’m posting anyway, to get some momentum so that hopefully the third part will be both longer and not so tardy. 

Escaping a goblin raid on your village leads you to a bridge, but you have nothing to offer the troll who guards it for a toll...except yourself

You wake in darkness.  At first you aren't sure you're awake at all--it's only by touching your own eyelids that you can feel sure they're open. It seems to make no difference between the thick, pressing dark around you either way.

“Mattie?” you whisper, your voice thin and hoarse. 

There’s no answer, and understanding comes crashing down on you, like floodwater overwhelming a dam. You are not in your cramped room under the eaves of the big house, Mathilde is not sleeping on the narrow bed an armspan away–if she’s lucky, perhaps she was able to hide in the cellars or the attics, somewhere that was safe enough until the goblin raiders felt they had run out of things to raze and ravish and moved on. Or perhaps help would come, from the regiment billeted outside the market town, or from rangers who might have been near enought to see the smoke. If Mattie was unlucky….

A sob catches in your dry throat, then turns to choking dry heaves that leave you shuddering. Bile burns on your tongue. You huddle into the nest of furs, remembering now where you are and how you came to be here, naked and alone in the pitch black.

Not alone. There is the hush of leather brushing against stone, a faint musky scent. 

“Brúsi?”

“Aye.” The troll’s gravel-rough voice is low and close–you almost reach out, ready to blunder once again into his arms rather than be alone with your fears.

The scrape of flint is loud enough in the silence to make you jump. Sparks illuminate the troll, kneeling at your side, and as he coaxes the tinder to unfurl into flame you hastily wrap a fur around your bare flesh. Whatever mood made you so bold before has been banished by your nightmares.

“Is it morning?”

The troll shrugs. “Near enough.”

“Shall I–shall I make breakfast for you?” Your fingers knead anxiously in the soft nap of the pelt that you clutch closed over your chest. “What do you like for breakfast?”

The troll–Brúsi–glances at you, his head tilted in the way that is already familiar. You think it means he’s just as bewildered by your contract, and by you, as you are yourself.

“Dried goat,” he says. “Morning meal, evening meal. Unless there is a new goat.”

“Oh. Where do the goats come from?”

He shrugs. “The bridge provides.”

Well. You take a deep breath, pushing the fear and panic of the last day, of the dark dreams, down into a tight ball at the bottom of your stomach, where you can ignore it for a little while. “Does the bridge ever provide eggs?”

And so you begin your month as housekeeper to a troll. 

Your clothes are badly stained, and chilly from being spread out on the stone floor, but they're dry and you dress in them anyway, trying to ignore the scrutiny of Brúsi’s dark blue eyes as he watches you. He seems fascinated by the layers as you lace your stays over your shift, tie the strings of your petticoat, and your cheeks burn with a blush as you finally button your gown. You do your best with the tangles in your hair--letting it hide your face until your heart stops thumping in your ears before you twist it into a hasty braid. 

There are no eggs. But you take a lantern the troll indicates and follow him into another cave that serves as a store room.

“There is goat,” he says, pointing at the considerable supply of dried meat, “and other goods, if tha wish them.” His gesture at the heaps of bags, crates, jars, casks, boxes–all jumbled together and shoved to one side–is dismissive, as if there is nothing of value to be found. You stare wide-eyed at a bolt of fine silk, at the glint of gold from a carelessly overturned casket with a broken lid.

“What is all this?”

“Payment for the toll, for when there were no goats.”

“You don’t do anything with the things paid for the toll? They just sit and rot?”

He shrugs. “I butcher the goats.”

You can only shake your head, but the practicality can’t be denied–gold and silk isn’t much use in a cave, and it’s with less wonder but more delight that you find flour, oil, and salt.

Breakfast is fried bread--and goat meat.

Once the meal is prepared and cleaned away, the troll vanishes up the dark tunnel. He takes no lantern with him. He also doesn't say a word to you before he leaves, and you stand in the cave for a while, expecting him to come back with instructions, or–well, something. But he doesn’t, and  you can only twist your hands in the skirt of your gown for so long. Eventually you pick up the lantern and explore. 

There is little enough to see. Other than what you noticed when you arrived, there is an alcove that must be where the troll sleeps, on piled furs that smell musky but not unpleasant. There is the storage cave, although it seems larger than it did at first, because you realize that you can’t see the far wall before the circle of light gives way to darkness.

And then there is the tunnel entrance, where your new employer disappeared, and which presumably leads out, to--your stomach lurches at the memory of being upside down from the sky–the underside of the bridge. But perhaps that had been an illusion, and the tunnel merely led out to an opening in the bank underneath the bridge? You had been half out of your mind with fear, after all. Maybe you dreamed that part.

Maybe…maybe you could simply walk out of this tunnel, out of the dark, and walk all the way home.

Except that you agreed to a contract. And the troll did say he wouldn’t eat you, wouldn’t even touch you, which was more than any of the men at the big house ever promised...none of them had touched you, but you knew that was because you had been careful, so careful, all the time, to be invisible. 

It had helped that Mattie made it easy to fade into the background. She flaunted her pretty curls and winsome dimples, and when she sometimes crept into your shared attic room well after midnight she always had a new length of fine fabric for a dress or a necklace of amber beads to show for it. You asked once if she wasn’t afraid of falling pregnant, but she just shrugged.

“I know to be careful,” she said, and hid the coins she’d gotten for selling her latest bauble away beneath her bed.

Thinking of Mattie makes your eyes sting with tears, and reminds you that probably there was no home to walk back to–and if you tried, there would likely be nothing to be done there except burying the dead. You leave the tunnel entrance alone, and busy yourself with organizing the heaped goods in the storage cave.

When Brúsi returns, he brings you eggs, freshly laid and nested in a straw packed basket. 

“They had no goat." He shrugs. 

Other than struggling to invent new ways of preparing goat meat, most of your time is spent sorting. You find all manner of things in the storage cave, from precious jewels to plain linen fabric. The gems and gold you store in caskets, and then can’t shift on your own–Brúsi laughs at you, and picks them up with one hand, arranging them neatly along one wall as you direct him. You stack bolts of fabric, folding shorter lengths neatly into a another chest, you line up swords with gold wrapped hilts, swords with elaborately carved scabbards, swords that are short, swords that are nearly as long as you are tall, and then there are maces and axes and other things you can’t name. There’s even a pair of pistols in a tooled leather box, their handles gleaming mother of pearl. It’s more treasure than you ever imagined, and you feel that you’re in a dragon’s den instead of a troll’s cave--except that Brúsi shows little interest in the goods, except for the goat meat.

“If you don't have a use for these things, why accept them?” you asked, after the third day of sorting boxes and bundles and barrels, and still not finding the back wall of the cave. You’d found a crown, heavy and lumpy, like something out of an ancient grave, and under it a belt of bronze scales that linked together.

The troll just shrugged. “They are the toll, for the bridge. There must be a toll.”

“Then…" you bite your lip, but blurt "can I use some things?”

“If tha hast a use for them, then mayhap the bridge meant them for tha to use.”

“You make it sound like the bridge is alive,” you murmur, running your fingers over the bolts of fabric, already imagining yourself in a dress made of such soft material.

“The bridge is the bridge,” Brúsi says.

“What does that mean?”

He just shrugs.

You sigh, picking up a bolt of wool–practical, and still finer than anything you’ve ever worn. “If the bridge provides, can I give it a list? I need thread, needles, scissors, buttons…I can’t keep wearing this dress,” you gesture down at yourself. “Not without something else to wear while I wash it, at least, but I can’t make anything without supplies. And for that matter I need soap–”

Brúsi tilts his head. “Tha may always ask the bridge, but it works slowly. Simpler for tha to go to a market.”

You stare at him, your mouth falling open. “I can? I mean, is that allowed? I thought…”

He stares at you, the intense blue of his eyes unblinking, and you finally shrug. “I just thought I couldn’t leave the cave.”

“Not for long, but art not bound to the bridge as I am. Come.” He scoops a handful of coins into a pouch and leads you into the tunnel.

The ground slopes upward under your feet, and after a time there is a door before you, swinging outward. Brúsi ducks under its arch, his broad form filling the opening. When he doesn't move to let you through, you realize that he's blocking the way deliberately. Unease spikes through you.

"Is something wrong?"

"The bridge made tha sick before," he says. “Tha shouldst close thine eyes.” You squint suspiciously up at him–is he laughing at you?–but obey. You hear the rattle of his bone-decorated belt as he steps toward you, but then he stops. “I must touch tha,” he says. “Just to lift tha over the topside.”

“All right,” you whisper. You stifle a gasp as his enormous hands circle your waist, lifting you easily off of your feet, and then after a blur of motion you feel stone under you again.

When you open your eyes, you’re on the narrow stone arch of the bridge.  Your lantern flame becomes suddenly pale compared to the warm sunlight that makes you blink and squint. There is no dark and shadowed forest hemming in the river. Instead there is a road, smooth hard dirt fringed with wildflowers on either side, and the rooftops of a village in the distance.

“Where…” You look down at the bridge under your bare feet. 

“The bridge is all bridges,” Brúsi says. He holds out the leather bag of coins, and you take it, staggering a bit at the weight. “Buy whatever tha need.”

You hesitate, glancing from the troll to the road. What is there to stop you from walking away and never returning, from making a life somewhere? The bag in your hand holds more money than you had ever expected to earn in your life. There would be nothing to hold you to the bridge…except your promise.

“Tha canst not escape the bridge.” Brúsi seems to be reading your thoughts, although he’s not even looking at you. He’s gazing down at the water. “Every bridge tha sets foot on will be this bridge, until the toll is paid.”

“Of course.” The bag of coins drags at your arms, and you fumble it open, taking out a handful. “I should be able to get everything I need with these–it would be dangerous to carry all the rest of this.”

The troll frowns, glancing from you to the distant rooftops. “Danger from other humans?”

“Only if I seem to have more money than I should,” you assure him hastily. “It would get attention from the wrong kind of humans. I'll be careful.”

 The coins bite into your palm as your fingers clench unconsciously. The frown creases his forehead, not smoothed away by your reassurances, and you half expect him to shake his head and pick you up under his arm again, ready to toss you back under the bridge. 

“Please?”

 You bite your lip too late to keep the word in, but there are lazy curls of smoke rising from the distant chimneys, and you can hear the lowing of cattle nearby, the friendly chime of chapel bells...and all you can think about is cheese. Cheese, and fruit to pair it with, or potatos, perhaps. Honeycakes. Your stomach rebels at the very thought of dried goat.

Brúsi jerks his chin toward the road. “Go, then. The bridge will be waiting for tha to return.”

You hand off the sack of coins–your shoulders more than grateful to be relieved of its weight–and the troll adds it to the other oddments that dangle from his belt among the bones. He folds his arms.

The handful of coins you kept are barely enough to make your pocket sag with their weight, but you can feel them as a reassuring lump under your skirts. You run anxious hands over your hair and stained gown, smoothing uselessly at wrinkles. 

“I wish I had been able to bathe properly,” you mutter. “I look like a ragamuffin.”

But your hands and face are clean, your hair neatly tied back, and dusk is not far off, so perhaps your bare feet will not be noticed. You step from the cool stone of the bridge to the warm hardpacked dirt of the road. 

"I'll be back s--" Your voice breaks off as you glance over your shoulder. The bridge behind you is a simple one of wooden logs, straddling a stream that a child could leap across. Gooseflesh prickles the back of your neck. You hurry down the road towards the village without looking back a second time.

[d0llhousess]

sleeping pt.2

⇢ fandom: daiya no ace ⇢ characters: furuya satoru, sawamura eijun, kominato haruichi, takigawa chris yū ⇢ warnings/tags: just a lot of fluff, established relationships, mushy couple stuff, mild language (idk i dont rlly remember), pet names (chris calls his SO angel bc...it’s chris), implied college!au, just mushy shit man, slighly sexual content for Haruichi (not rlly sexual just that the Kominato brothers rlly do like skin to skin contact.)  ⇢ a/n: ahhhh I FINALLY MADE PART 2 OF MY FAV SERIES. this took way too long bc im lazy and hate making headers but!! it’s here! thank u guys so much for being patient with me. this probably doesnt follow my schedule bc lord knows i cant queue shit right for SHIT but oh well! I hope you guys enjoy this, and thank you so much for your continued support <3 (if you guys want a pt.3 just request the characters you’d like to see! dayia is such a big cast that it is hard for me to decide sometimes so knowing what characters you guys would like to see helps A LOT) also i got a little carried away with Chris’ dont @ me

⤆ Part 1          ~              

« Seidō High School »

we all know this boy sleeps any and everywhere

he can’t help it, just something about being hot 24/7 + sitting still just makes him doze a bit 

so yeah he just sort of sleeps anywhere and everywhere

yet his fav place to lay his head is your thighs :(

No matter the day, Furuya never failed to come into your apartment, a soft pout on his face as he shed the outer layer of clothing before he plopped down on your sofa, and today was no different. 

If you hadn’t heard him close the front door, you’d be a bit shocked at his appearance as he didn’t call out a greeting nor did he speak to you as he adjusted himself on the small sofa, lanky limbs stretching across the furniture as he moved your arms from your lap. Resting his head onto your plush thighs, a soft exhale of pure and utter joy left his lips. 

Before you know it, his eyes are fluttering shut and soft snores begin to accompany the soft sound of your TV show playing in the distance. A fond smile spreads onto your lips and you can’t help but shake your head at the dark haired boy’s odd nature. Yet, his many quirks were one of the reasons why he’d held your heart for so many years.

Brushing his dark inky bangs away from his forehead, you press a light kiss against his forehead, smile still on your face as you pulled away and refocused on your show. 

Furuya was an odd boy, but he was your boy. 

listen....getting him to rest is an event 

he’s just this boundless bottle of energy, and napping just isn’t for him

struggles a lot with insomnia. his mind and body is just always racing and it’s hard to get the two to calm down. 

Yet, when he finally does crash, he’s just a clingy little baby who wants to fall asleep pressed against you 

As he entered his bedroom, he was careful not to make too much noise as he discarded his clothing and switched into his pajamas. 

You’d retired to bed hours earlier, unable to stay awake with him in the late hours of the night, and he didn’t expect you to. He knew his sleeping schedule was unpredictable, and despite his need to spend every waking moment with you, he understood that you needed your sleep. 

As he slipped his night shirt over his head, he heard your body shift in his bed and for a moment he worried that he’d woke up, yet when your sleep heavy voice didn’t fill the air, he let out an exhale of relief. 

He was careful as he slipped into the bed, eyes roaming your slumbering figure as his hand reached over to graze his fingers across your exposed abdomen. 

He couldn’t stop the satisfied exhale if he tried. 

With steady hands, he shifted your body, careful to not shake you out of your sleep, as he intertwined his limbs with your own. Body now pressed snuggly against yours, another delighted exhale left his lips, and for the first time that night he felt his body completely relax and melt into yours. 

His lips grazed over your pulse, pressing a soft kiss into the skin, before he nestled his head into your chest, eyes fluttering closed as he listened to the soft beating of your heart. 

“Love you,” He mummered, even though he was sure you were deep in slumber, yet your sleep laced voice filled his ears. 

“Love you too, Eijun,” you whispered back to him, and he feels his face heat. 

Guess he wasn’t being as quiet and careful as he thought he was. 

we all know he’s the best cuddler, right?

he’s always the right temperature, never moves too much, and just an overall joy to lounge around with

yet sleeping is a different story

somehow he just always ends up on top of you, and it doesn’t help that he’s a heavy sleeper..

At the blaring sound of your early morning alarm, you felt your body jerk itself awake. A low groan left your lips, and you couldn’t help but to curse the fact that you’d signed up for early morning classes this semester. Reaching under your pillow, your fingers smoothed over the cool screen of your phone, snoozing the alarm without a second thought. 

The loud noise of the alarm ceased, and the air of your bedroom was still once more. Plopping your head back down onto your pillow, you then notice that your bedmate didn’t stir once despite the obnoxious blaring of your alarm.

 Yet, this didn’t surprise you. Haruichi never stirred in the early hours of the morning, no matter how much noise surrounded him. Exhaling softly, you felt his body shift, his head moving from it’s place on the small of your back to your shoulder blade as he moved in his sleep. You felt his hands slip into the front of your pants, fingers lightly gripping the fat of your thighs as a deep exhale left his lips at his new position. 

You knew he wasn’t awake and that his new position would make it even harder for you to pry his body away from yours in hopes of getting ready for the day. But, you didn’t find yourself minding too much. Not when his warmth brought comfort, and his breathing lulled you back to sleep. 

Maybe five extra minutes of sleep wouldn’t hurt.

chris is the best boyfriend, and this is not up for debate

too tired to do your night routine? he’s helping you through it. you need a nap? he’s there to be your pillow. want to just be close to him? he’s taking you into his arms. 

loves pressing kisses against your cheeks as you doze in and out of sleep 

he can’t help it, you just look so cute snuggled into his chest. 

The soft hum of music filled your ears as you blinked yourself awake. Your brows furrowed as your eyes finally focused on the familiar surrounding of Chris’ apartment’s living room. 

You didn’t mean to fall asleep during one of the rare night-ins with your boyfriend. Yet, with your inability to find a stable sleeping schedule, and the warmth of Chris’ toned chest it didn’t take you long to be captured by the sweet lull of slumber. 

Lifting your head, you watched as Chris moved the book he was reading, hazel gaze meeting yours as a smile spread across his boyish features. Chris pulled his earbud from his ear, head tilting as his fingers go to caress the side of your cheek. 

“Sorry,” You apologized, lips twisting down into a soft pout as you gazed at your boyfriend. 

“Whatcha apologizing for?” He questioned you, a singular brow raising as his thumb rubbed soothing circles to your cheek. 

“We’re supposed to be hanging out, but here I am sleeping.” 

A chuckle left Chris’ lips, and the rumbling of his chest only soothed your relaxed body even more. 

“You know I’m satisfied with just laying with you, angel,” He mused, head leaning down to press a soft kiss onto your pouting lips. A whine escapes you, yet he’s quick to hush you with another soft kiss. Pulling away, an easy smile twitched onto his lips and he rested back into his previous position. 

“Go back to sleep,” He commanded softly, words leaving no room for argument. Yet, his tone was as loving as ever, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed those dark circles.” 

A giggle left your lips and with no complaint, you rest your head back onto your boyfriend’s toned chest, eyes fluttering shut as you attempted to fall back into the sweet coiling feeling of sleep. Yet before you felt your body drift away into slumber, Chris’ lips brush against your forehead, and nothing but warmth fills your chest. 

He really was so perfect without even trying. 

[baronesscmd]

@anubis-005 has graciously allowed me to continue writing her sinfully delightful Nene’s Inferno Au, so I bring you the next installment. I hope you enjoy, and thank you. And go check out all her artwork; its absolutely amazing and deserves all the love!

AH! DISCLAIMER! CONTAINS SCENES OF SEXUAL INNUENDO/REFERENCES/SITUATIONS!

 He dropped himself to the ground, pulling her flush against him. One hand curled around her arm as the other caught her chin, bringing her gaze directly to the smoldering golden stare that was attempting to burn her alive. 

Nene's face flushed as he leaned in, tongue flicking over the sharp fangs in his mouth as he tipped his head so the heat of his words brushed against her lips. 

"You won't be needing those clothes."

**

“EXCUSE ME?!!”

Nene felt her pulse stutter and pick up double-time as the demon leaned closer, claws pricking at the soft curve of her cheeks as her whole body burned from his implications. She tried to push away, tried to get as much space between her and the demon before her; he wasn’t having it. The hand on her arm slid around her waist, pinning her tight against his chest as he smirked. 

“Oh yes, my sweet little Angel; that uniform just has to go.”

She felt those claws curl into her sash and tug, and before she could even make a sound, before she could try and push herself away; he moved. His hand slid from her waist to cup her bottom and squeeze, and she shrieked as he hauled her up and over his shoulder. 

He spun on his heel, whistling as he headed deeper into the maze as she tried to get loose. Nene beat her fists against his back and kicked her legs, trying to ignore the sharp curve of his shoulder as it pressed into her belly.

Harder to ignore was the hand hooked around her knees, and the thumb that was making tiny circles against her thigh. Worse than that though, was the hand still on her butt. She struggled harder, flushing as he patted the soft curve of her cheeks. 

 "PUT ME DOWN! AND DONT TOUCH ME!"

Nene let out a sound somewhere between a whimper and a scream as the demon chucked, pinching her as he nipped at her hip through the fabric of her dress.

"My my, aren't you a feisty one! You'll be great fun. I can already tell. But you have to behave, my Angel, or your new Master will punish you.

"And while I can guarantee you will not enjoy it, I shall have a delightful time."

She continued to struggle against him until the band around her finger began to burn. She yelped and folded, her chin bouncing into his back as she curled her hands together. 

It hurt, more than anything she had ever experienced. Like something was trying to claw at her soul, to tear her open and lay her bare. She watched through her tears as the demon's tail looped around her wrists, and as suddenly as the pain had come on, it vanished.

"Ah, fun little bit about that Bond, my Angel." 

She stiffened in his grasp as he drew a claw down her thigh before his fingers crept back up to pinch her.

"You cannot disobey me."

Cold stole through Nene's limbs and she went still and silent. The demon laughed, the echo of it reverberating through her own chest in a hollow imitation of joy. The tail squeezed her wrists, and she swallowed back her tears. 

Beneath them, the grassy maze gave way to cobblestones, and she planted her hands against the small of his back as he spun around. 

"Welcome to your new home, Angel."

Nene lifted her head, biting back a gasp at the palace before her; she had not expected something so elegant of a design in Hell. It rose from a tangle of wild roses like a crouching beast, sweeping up into the skyline like nothing she had seen. 

In Heaven, the buildings had been white, and gold and silver-toned. It had felt like walking through a dream, with open shutters and friendly hellos as she passed. This was quite the opposite. 

This was a nightmare of brick, wood, bone, and glass. Shadows hung from the twisted black iron of the balconies like discarded clothes, the stained glass depicting demons in different throes of lust. 

Ivy twisted it's way up the cracks of the black stones, twisting around marble statues carved in obscene positions. She averted her eyes as they passed a set of skeletons, entwined together, forever frozen in the moment of completion. 

And the arch of the grand doorway, before the demon carrying her turned on his heel to march her under it, was carved in stark white bone with the twisted limbs and slack faces of those who had given in to the Sin of Lust.

The inside was as hauntingly beautiful as the exterior, with dark walls and black marble floors. Golden lamps spilled light in fleeting puddles, and Nene saw more than one alcove with the entwined forms of sated bodies. 

He hauled her through the dining hall, whispers rising as the few demons who happened to be awake caught sight of them. Painted mouths disappeared behind razor-tipped nails as she knew they began to gossip, and more than one pair of hungry, hooded eyes raked over her form, leaving her feeling filthy. 

Nene tried to remember the twists and turns he took so she could attempt an escape, but when they passed the same low table with a couple half-concealed beneath it again, she knew he had purposely misled her.

Each path was more confusing than the last, some with high, vaulted ceilings that the light could not illuminate, and others with low curving beams that pulled the shadows close enough to touch. 

And the paintings! Nene could look nowhere and find a patch of wall that was not hung with obscenities. Even what she assumed were flowers, painted in soft brush strokes, resembled a part of her own anatomy that the demon's hand was much too close to.

He took them down a long hallway, the doors at the beginning doing little to conceal the moans and cries of the pleasure-seekers within. She flushed and tried to raise her hands to cover her ears to block out the sounds, but the tail held her fast. 

They turned again, and this hallway was silent but for the echo of his footsteps. His hand stroked from the curve of her waist to the back of her knee before he kicked a door open. 

Nene watched with increasing panic as the heavy wooden doors fell shut behind them, lock sliding into place as her heart sank. She was trapped, completely and utterly. 

She had no time to admire the room, richly decorated in swathes of black and red satin as the demon fisted his hand in the back of her dress and dumped her onto a bed.

It took her a second, as she was consumed by tangled scarlet silk and plush pillows as dark as a raven's wing, that she was not in just any bedroom, tumbled onto a sinfully soft bed. 

Nene was sprawled across the sheets in the bed that belonged to the Lord of Lust, locked in this den of depravity and debauchery. 

She watched with horror as he set a knee to the bed and dragged her closer, pinning her beneath his lithe form as she tried to get away, even though she knew it was useless. His mouth nipped at her throat, tongue sliding up her skin before he sucked a bruise into the tender flesh as he groaned. 

"You taste like innocence and divinity. And I am going to enjoy corrupting you."

He shoved her knees apart and settled against her, and before he could side his hand from her waist to her breast or between her legs, Nene threw her arms against his chest with a cry. 

She wasn't sure who was more surprised as he was tossed back, his black eyes lightening to amber as they both watched the pale gold band form around his tail. She scrambled from beneath him, not getting far before he hooked his hand around her chubby ankle. 

He didn’t draw her back to him, which she found odd, but he seemed more preoccupied with the sharp flicks he made to try and fling the ring off. The swing of it was rather hypnotic, and Nene gasped as his claws bit into her skin as he yanked her down the bed. 

She drew her knees up as he loomed over her, and she watched as his eyes flickered rapidly over her face, as if there was something hidden in her own gaze that would explain what had happened. His mouth split into a wicked smile and he hauled her up, locking one arm around her as she thrashed in his hold as he snapped his fingers. 

Seconds later, three scantily clad demonesses hurried through the door, all wearing the same outfit of a black and white maids uniform, and dipped into deep curtsies. Nene paled as he shoved her forward; the tallest demoness, who had ripped the front of her blouse so that her very generous bust could be seen through the heart shape, caught her by the arm before she could hit the floor. 

“Dress our little Angel in her new uniform; she’ll be joining you in your duties starting today.”

Nene whipped her head around as another of the demoness’ hurried away, the ruffles of her dress barely touching the top of her thighs. He couldn’t really mean to put her in something so revealing, but the sly smile as their eyes met showed that he absolutely did. 

She shrieked as the demons pulled at her uniform, trying to bat their hands away to no avail. The taller one unsnapped the buttons on her collar as the other pulled her sash free, and she could do nothing as the third came back with her arms full of fabric. 

They stripped her quickly and efficiently, though their touch lingered on her skin like a burn. She clung to her thin shift as they tried to pull it off, even as they knocked her off balance to remove her sandals. They couldn’t take her shift, she’d be naked; no one had ever seen her naked. The demoness caught her hands in a bruising grip and bunched the fabric in her free hand.

“Let her keep it.”

They all froze, turning to the Demon Lord reclining on his bed. His grin was as filthy as it was seductive, and Nene tried to draw her hands down to cover herself as his eyes raked over her, his tail flicking lazily against his thigh. She may as well have been completely bare before him with the way his gaze smoldered. 

“Yes, M’Lord.”

She didn’t struggle as they pulled the fabric over her head and harshly tugged her braids free of the collar, didn’t comment as they shoved her into the neat black shoes, muffled a gasp as they tied the bow of her apron with enough force to nearly drive the air from her lungs.

The demons hurried out as he snapped his fingers, one poking back in briefly to drop a mop, broom, and bucket inside the door with a cruel grin before it closed behind her. Nene kept her eyes shut as he crossed the room and curled his hands around her hips. 

There was nothing she could do as he twisted her from side to side and then turned her, trailing his claws across her belly as he pressed his face into her hair. She could feel the curve of his smile against the shell of her ear before he pulled away.

“You might as well look, my little Angel. You’ll be seeing yourself in it for the foreseeable future. Unless you’d like to clean in the nude.”

Nene snapped her eyes open as heat flooded her cheeks, and was surprised to find herself in a uniform that, while still inappropriate, covered much more than she was expecting. The puffed black sleeves left her arms bare, and the dark ruffles of her skirt at least came to her knees. It was actually cute, with the frilled overskirt and pink and white heart over her chest. 

“By the grace of providence we had one in your size.”

She glared at him as he chuckled as he floated behind her, magicing the bucket, mop, and broom into her hands. Providence, as if; more like limitless lechery, she thought as he adjusted her headband. She truly was stuck here, this wasn’t just an elaborate nightmare. 

Nene jumped with a scream as his hand smacked her bottom, cleaning supplies flying as he caught her up in his arms. That damned tail wound around her leg as if it had a mind of its own as he pinned her hands to his chest so he could twirl the ring around her finger. 

“And, my little Angel; a few more things.”

He bent her nearly backward as he slid his knee between her own, the tension in her spine the only thing keeping her from sprawling back over the bed. The ring on her finger seemed to burn with the same intensity as the one tapping against her thigh.

“You will be my personal attendant; you will wake me, bring me meals if I do not dine in the hall. When I do dine in the hall, you shall serve me. Ah ah, I’m not finished,” his finger pressed against her lips to silence her protests, “You will help me bathe, and dress, and cater to any of my whims.”

His hand slid down her back to cup her bottom and bring her hips flush to his. The hard lines of his body settled against the soft curves of her own with a familiarity that made her flush. 

“And I shall allow you to keep your innocence; for now.”

The press of him to the intimate place between her thighs made her whimper and tremble, and he only smirked. 

“Also, you shall address me as “My Lord” or “Master” when you speak to me; is that clear, my Angel?”

Nene dipped her head and mumbled as he shifted against her, his tail tightening around her thigh like a demonic garter. 

“I didn’t hear you, Angel.”

She lifted her head, meeting those blazing eyes with her own as she curled her nails into his chest and watched him wince. 

“Yes, Master.”

He dipped his head, mouth a breath from hers as he pressed their bodies closer together. Heat flooded her at every point they met, and she let her eyes flicker down to his lips worriedly.

“Good girl.”

And then he was gone. 

Nene sank onto the edge of the bed as he swept his hand out and the cleaning supplies disappeared with the spilled water. He pulled open the door of his room and gestured into the hall.

“Come along, unless you wish for me to take you now.”

She shot up from the bed and hurried to the entrance, shuttering as he laid his hand on the small of her back to guide her. 

“You have much to see before you help me tonight, and I don’t tolerate tardiness.”

Nene felt despair sink into her soul as he led her back down those twisting halls. There were more demons now, peeking from doorways and corners as they headed to the servants quarters. Eyes followed her every step, and the whispers hung in the air like a death sentence. 

The Lord of Lust had an Angel for a plaything, and wouldn’t he have fun with her? 

Her master’s hand slid lower as his tail lashed against her with every step, and she bit back her tears. This was her own fault, she had gotten herself into this mess. And she would have to be the one to get herself out. There would be no Divine Intervention to save her; the Angels did not listen to the cries that rose from Hell. 

If Nene wanted to escape, she’d have to do it herself.

And @anubis-005 Thank you SOOO much for this again! It is, as always, an honor and pleasure to work with you!!! <3 :3

[one-boring-person]

You forced this upon yourself😂 you forced this rambo simp.(and i dont mind)

Okay this may not be as good! But! Im giving you the liberty to take it where you want!(because i love your little details and how you express the feeling in your writing i- AH! Its great. I cant say it enough, it’s great. I mean it.)

How about Rambo finally getting enough courage to show The rancher around the tunnels, in a date sort of way!(they don’t know thats actually where he lives. Aka that photo i showed you before.) i really saw how the rancher was so happy to have him at their house, I’d love to see rambos side of scheduling a house tour and date type deal!! Maybe him even sitting and showing the rancher through all his old photos, and them just in awe because wow. He’s so much cooler than they even thought! He just so nervous and surprised seeing them so interested in him after all this time alone, and them just- in awe of him.

( i also really think it would be funny seeing rambo go through his friends house and seeing-“why the hell you have so many plants???” And just. Adorable assassin living with a wholesome and loving hardworking s/o)

Ah! Im sorry if that’s not as good!! But hey, you feel free to describe their antics and relationship as you will!!

I think I may have run a bit with this, but I hope you like it regardless!😊💛

I've Got Your Back, You've Got Mine.

John Rambo (Rambo IV/V) x reader

Warnings: mention of death, mention of war, mention of injury, mention of PTSD, mention of violence, (possible flash warning for gif?)

Masterlist

The heavy knock on the door surprises me where I'm sitting, the sharp sound snapping me from my thoughts. Looking over at it from my position at the table, I frown and set down my spoon, standing to go answer, unsure of who it is: I'm not expecting anyone today. Colt looks up from his place on the floor, the dog just as curious as I am as to whom it may be, though he doesn't bark, so it must be someone we know. He watches me as I cross the room, going straight to the door.

Opening it, I'm somewhat surprised to see my neighbour, John, standing there, a tentative smile on his face as he looks me over appreciatively, his gaze drawing a blush to my face. 

"Mornin' (Y/n)." He greets, rough voice friendly as he waits for me to let him in.

"Morning John." I smile back, delighted to see him, "What can I do for you?"

I step back, waiting for him to enter, which he does so with a nod of thanks.

"Since when have I needed a reason to see you?" The veteran chuckles, the sound reverberating within me, my brain subconsciously storing the action away for later recall. Gently, John moves into my space, one hand coming to lightly rest on my hips as the other cups my face, drawing me in for a slow kiss. 

Kissing back, I feel a glow of happiness flare up in me at this contact: he's never really one to initiate touch like this, so it's a whole lot more intimate when he does. Relaxed, I loosely wrap my arms around his neck, languidly caressing his dark hair as our lips move together. 

Being the killjoy he often loves to be, Colt pushes in between us, nosing at John's leg, tail wagging enthusiastically as he recognises the familiar man, the dog as fond of his company as I am. Chuckling, John and I pull apart, looking down at the large canine between us, the dark eyes staring up at us imploring us to pay attention to him. Still smiling, John lowers a hand to scratch Colt's head, ruffling his floppy ears a little as the dog instantly allows his mouth to hang open, tongue lolling in content.

"Hey, Colt." The veteran greets, biting back a laugh as the dog pushes me out of the way, nudging at John's stomach.

"He never gets that excited to see me." I complain jokingly, standing back to watch the two interact, a smile playing at my lips.

"Sure he does." John replies, eyes fixing on mine with an expression of fondness, one that had me weak at the knees.

"He really doesn't, he just sits in the corner and whines at me until I feed him. Isn't that right?" I address the dog himself, giving him a light slap on the rear, his ridiculous height meaning I can quite easily reach it, "Anyhow, did you need something? Or did you just come here to kiss me? I can't say I'll complain if that's the case."

Cheekily, I wink at the veteran, leaning back against a nearby counter.

"As nice as that sounds, it's not the reason I came by." He chuckles, blushing lightly, "Though that does sound good."

Grinning, I nod my agreement, only now taking in his body language: he's nervous. His hands fidget, rubbing his fingers over scars and lines on his palms, and he shifts from foot to foot every now and then, small tells he's never quite managed to hide from me.

"Is something up?" I ask him, slightly more serious this time, unnerved by his discomfort.

"No, no, not at all. I, err, well, I just wanted to ask you something." He rubs the back of his neck, head tilted to the side as he regards me, dark eyes fixed on mine.

"Ok, go for it." I prompt him, curiosity sparking my interest.

"Well, do you wanna come to mine? I mean properly, like in the house." John cocks his head to the side, lowering his arm again.

Blinking, I feel shock flood my system, before it turns to unbelievable happiness that he's trusting me enough to come into his private space. Initially, I can't find the right words, somehow struggling to respond, until I find my tongue again.

"I would love to, John." I agree, features lighting up as my mood brightens, "There's nothing I've really got to do today except train up one of the younger horses, so I've got as long as you want after that."

"Great. Is four o'clock alright?" The veteran smiles broadly, though he still looks somewhat nervous.

"Yeah, should be. I'll be there." I promise him, taking up my Stetson from the table as I briefly turn away to put away the plate I was using, having lost my appetite in my sudden excitement.

"I'll get it tidy." He says, looking around the room again, "I'll never understand why you have so many plants in your house. It's like a damn jungle."

At his comment, I laugh loudly, glancing around at the variety of different houseplants I have placed on various shelves, the greenery practically covering every available surface. 

"Because it's way too dry to grow anything like this outside all the time. Anyway, they look nice." I shrug, calling Colt to my side as I follow John from the house, grabbing my jacket from the hook as I pass.

"But why so many?" 

Once again, I shrug, following him over to a nearby post, where he's hitched Bandit, the horse I gave him a few months ago. The buckskin stallion paws at the ground, his pale coat looking as clean as ever even as he noses at the dust, the dark colouring around his eyes (the reason for his name) and legs standing out much more in the bright sun. As we approach, he looks up, snorting in greeting.

"He's looking good." I acknowledge, admiring the strong stallion appreciatively - I had reared Bandit from a foal, before I had given him to the veteran as a gift four months ago, hoping it will help him to grow his own ranch. My plan had worked, and John now has four horses, including Bandit, as well as a couple of other animals, such as a cow, a pig and five chickens. I'd sold him a couple of goats as well, but we soon found out that John and goats just didn't get along. At all.

"Yeah, he's doing well, too. Takes the training very well, too." John runs a hand through the stallion's dark mane, untying the reins.

"That's good. Reckon he'll be ready for a competition soon?" 

"Should be." 

Snorting again, Bandit pulls at the reins, clearly eager to get going, especially as Colt moves up to sniff at the horse's back legs. I quickly whistle him over, knowing Bandit has always been shifty around the dog.

"I'll see you at four then." I finally say, unwilling to say goodbye, even if it is only for a few hours.

"Yeah, see you then." John smiles, leaning in to kiss me again, keeping it brief this time, leaving me wishing for more, as he always does.

"See ya." I grin, watching him climb into the saddle, still somehow fluid in doing so despite his age. 

Gathering the reins in hand, John adjusts himself in the saddle, before he smiles down at me again as he gently urges Bandit into motion. Obediently, the stallion moves into a swift trot, which turns into a faster canter as the two move off down the driveway, heading towards the split in the fence separating our land. I watch as they go, still finding myself enraptured by the sight of the muscular man sat astride the horse, Colt eventually snapping me from my mind as he barks at me. Shaking my head, I follow him towards the stable.

Hours later, having showered and cleaned up, I feel a sense of relief go through me as I hoist myself into the saddle secured into place on Leo's back. It's relaxing, the stallion beneath me more relaxed than the youngster I've been trying to train all day: she never gave me a break. Seemingly sensing this, as he always does, Leo flicks his ears back and nickers softly, very lightly pawing the ground as I give him a pat on the neck, glad to have a more reliable horse taking me where I need to be.

Tilting back my Stetson, I take the reins in hand and ease the stallion into a trot, intending to let him pick up his own pace, my trust in this horse far greater than in the mare from before. Obediently, Leo moves into the correct gait, the two of us moving as if as one, years of riding together having made it easy for us to become in tune with each other. Together, we start off down the road towards John's ranch, the new path we've created beaten and well-used, allowing for relatively easy riding. Leo's hooves pound the dry ground rhythmically, my hips moving in time with his every stride, the relaxing movement helping to calm the nerves that have sprung up inside me.

A part of me is still unconvinced about going into John's home. Yes, I had helped him rebuild it and had seen very little of the inside rooms, but it still feels as if I'm intruding upon the veteran's safe space, his reprieve from the cruelty of the world he lives in. Something about that doesn't sit right with me, but I tell myself it's John's decision to make, not mine, so I should trust him, which I do, wholeheartedly. 

I'm still torn by the time I reach the main house, where John is already sat waiting for me in his rocking chair, dark eyes fixed on me as I approach. Lifting a hand to him, I smile and slow Leo to a halt, praising the horse as I climb down, the gray stallion nosing affectionately at me. Swiftly, I tie him to a nearby post, only to stop when John calls out to me.

"Put him in the stable for the night." He instructs me, gesturing for me to follow him as I try to fight back the sudden onslaught of racing thoughts at his implications: he wants me to stay the night?

"Sure, thanks." I smile back at him, walking after him with Leo in tow.

"Don't worry about it. It's not fair on him if he has to stay out all night." John waves me off with a short grin, "How'd training go?"

I groan.

"Not great. That horse has it in for me, I swear." I complain, rubbing at my arm, remembering the moment I got the new bruise forming there.

"Oh yeah?" He muses, looking amused.

"Yeah. She threw me off eight times!"

"Eight times? Wow, must be a new record." The veteran jokes, something that stirs up the familiar fondness inside me at his more personable behaviour.

"I reckon so. Painful one to set, though, I'll tell you." I remark, smiling broadly as we enter the stable, where I quickly house Leo next to Bandit, removing his tack and other gear.

"Must be." John watches me work, leaning against the door to the large building, muscular arms crossed over an equally muscular chest. Turning back to him, I have to stop and admire the bulging of his biceps as his hands grip his forearms, the veins I've come to love laying out a pattern on the tanned limbs. Everytime I see them, I imagine his strong arms wrapped around me, holding me safe and secure against his solid body, wishing I could feel his hands splayed against me more often.

"Like what you see?" John interrupts my thoughts, voice teasing as he lifts an eyebrow at me, almost smirking at me.

Blushing furiously, I avert my gaze, lifting a hand to gently tap the brim of my Stetson out of my vision.

"You know I do." I laugh nervously, before I look back up at him, "Anyway, since when do you use pickup lines?"

"Since I figured out they get you all flustered." His playful tone is new to me, though it's gone almost as soon as I see it, his guarded expression falling back into place as he returns within himself, probably thinking he overstepped some invisible boundary.

I still can't help stammering for a response, his gruff tone awakening something within me.

"Heh, I guess you're right." I stutter, going over to him.

Nodding, he keeps his expression straight, leading me out back to the house, where he quickly welcomes me inside.

"I tried to tidy it as much as possible, but it's still a bit messy." The veteran apologises, observing the interior of his home critically, even as I do so in awe.

The rooms, from what I can see, are mostly filled with sparse furniture, a few chairs here and there, an old sofa, a couple of vanities and dressers, with a mantlepiece in most, if not all, of them. He hasn't used much colour, but what he has used is tasteful and works well with the overall appearance. The walls, however, are what really draw me into the place.

They are littered with photographs and memorabilia, frames and objects cleaned and polished so they shine brightly in the afternoon sun, many smiling faces visible in them. Curious, I go over to one wall, looking over the array of pictures, which I now recognise to be images of John and his friends from the years he spent here. Amongst them is a creased black and white photo of a young John sat astride a horse not unlike Bandit, a broad grin on the boy's face as he stares at the camera from under a mop of thick black hair. I can feel a small smile creep onto my face at the sight of the veteran looking so happy and carefree, something I've not seen very much of at all in my time around him.

"That was my first horse, Hector. I had him until I left for the army." John says from behind me, sounding somewhat quiet, eyes softened from nostalgia as he stares at the picture along with me, "I loved him a lot, but my father always said he wasn't good enough."

His words hang in the air as I stay speechless, listening intently to what he's saying to me: it's the first I'm hearing about his life before he came here again.

"What happened to him? Hector, I mean." I ask him quietly, tearing my eyes away to look up at John.

The veteran shrugs, appearing somewhat remorseful.

"I'll never know, but I reckon my father sold him as soon as I was gone."

"Oh." I frown, glancing back at the photograph.

"The horse was getting old by that time, though. He probably wasn't much use." John chuckles wryly, moving away towards the stairs nearby, "Do you want to see upstairs?"

"Yeah, sure." I nod, following him as he ascends to the second floor, which I now see consists of three different rooms.

He takes me to the farthest, opening the door to reveal an old study, which looks as if it hasn't been used in a good few years.

"This was my father's study, where he did all his business. I was never allowed in here as a kid." John sweeps his arm around the room, staying by the threshold, as if abiding by a rule that no longer exists, "Not that I go in here that much as an adult."

I look around, finding the neat area interesting: images of a young John hovering by the door, waiting for his father to finish business entering my head.

"It's nice, I like it." I remark, turning to find him smiling very slightly at me.

"It's the only room in the house that's exactly as it used to be. I haven't had time to do up the others properly." John says, leaving the study and going back down the hall, where he opens the other two doors to reveal a bathroom and an empty room.

A dull curiosity flares up within me as I realise one thing about the top floor, but I easily find a solution to it, following John back down the stairs. As we go, however, I realise that my assumption is wrong, as the only other rooms down here are missing the one thing I'd expect in any house.

"Where do you sleep? I haven't seen a bed or anything anywhere." I ask him, cocking my head to the side as he takes me to one final door.

"I'm gonna show you." He smiles at me, before he opens the door.

I blink as I see the dark steps descending into the ground, unease biting at my throat as I flash John a hesitant look. A cool draft wafts up from the black depth, but John only chuckles and moves down into the space below, gesturing for me to follow.

"It's perfectly safe, don't worry." He calls to me, a light flickering on as he reaches the bottom of the steps, illuminating the path to me.

Swallowing, I gingerly step down the stairs, emerging into a tunnel of sorts, my curiosity piqued as I take in the chiselled walls around me, the rock cast in an odd light from the naked bulbs positioned along the length of the cavern. Struts of wood hold the ceiling steady, wiring hanging off of them in places where he's had to hastily put it all together. John watches as I take in the passage, a thoughtful look in place on his face.

"What is this place?" I wonder aloud, still taken aback by the oddity of having a tunnel beneath the house that stretches off in both directions.

"This is my safe space." The veteran informs me, urging me along with him as we go further into the tunnel, walking together for a minute before we emerge out into a larger room of sorts, which is well lit. 

My eyes widen as I realise exactly what he means.

The room acts as his bedroom and bathroom, and also has space to sit and relax, the whole area having a homely feel to it. What was missing in the rooms in the house can be found down here, including more photographs, though these ones seem different to the others. They adorn the walls, all except one, which is decorated with a variety of weapons, both guns and knives. Going over to it, I look over the rifles and shotguns hooked onto the wall, struck speechless as I then turn my attention to a machete, the blade honed but chipped from use, seemingly out of place as it hangs beside another, smaller hunting knife. 

Moving on, I regard the photographs, only now realising that they're military pictures, many of them containing images of a youthful John in fatigues and uniform. A smile creeps back onto my lips as I feel my eyes land on a particular image of a group of men, where I can see John standing amongst them, a triumphant grin on his face, long locks of dark hair held back by a strip of fabric around his head. The others also smile, though there's something bittersweet about the inscription at the corner of the photo: Baker Team, Vietnam. As I look past the other pictures, I notice that the team slowly dwindles, beaming faces becoming drawn and solemn, eventually just leaving two people behind. Beneath this image is another inscription: Baker Team Survivors.

"That was my team in 'Nam." John says suddenly, voice husky as he remembers the friends he had, "None of them made it back. Not really."

Eyes wide, I look back at him, taking in the distant look in his own eyes, the barely concealed grief still raw in his expression as he stares at the photographs. Noticing my gaze, John gestures for me to come sit on the edge of his bed with him, the veteran pulling another photograph from it's place on his bedside table. Doing so, I make sure I'm not touching him, but am close enough to reassure him, waiting patiently for him to start talking of his own accord, knowing that this is a sensitive subject for him.

After a moment, he starts, his voice low as he pulls me into his stories, taking me through suffocating jungles and blistering heats, through recon and rescue missions, through bloody gunfights and hellfire,  through hours spent in torturous situations. He puts me in his shoes as he loses every single member of his team to the gruesome fight he should never have fought, the harrowing grief and pain of letting go of a comrade, someone who's supposed to be by your side for as long as the two of you can stay alive, laid bare for me to see and experience. And even as he moves on, back to familiar territory in the States, the fight never leaves him.

Facing harassment in what should be his safety and security, I can feel every bit of betrayal, of anger and grief that he felt as he is let down by his own country time after time, used again and again by the authorities to do their dirty work, only to be cast aside when it doesn't go their way, the old catchphrase he once lived by, "I've got your back, you've got mine" completely meaningless in this hollow life. His disgust in humanity is plain to me as he outlines his most recent forays into warfare, where the rage he felt is once again transferred to me, and I experience the violent need to take out the parasites in the world that destroy anything good that he did. It's as if I'm there with him, through everything, his description and memories so vivid they chill me to the core, keeping me hooked on his every word.

After a long while, he eventually trails off, and I realise there's a tear rolling down his cheek, his body shaking a little as he holds himself back. My heart breaking, I have to fight the urge to reach out and pull him into an embrace, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. I place my hand on his shoulder instead, rubbing the tight muscles soothingly until he looks up at me with the most heart-rending gaze I've ever seen in my life. At that point, my resolve breaks.

Carefully, I lean in and wrap my arms around his shoulders, pulling the veteran towards me. He goes willingly, sobs wracking his body as he wraps his own hands around me, burying his face into my neck, tears flowing freely now as he lets himself go, each pained sound agonising to hear. Tightening my grip, I lay back onto the bed, allowing him to press his body around me, holding me against his muscular form as I rub his back, whispering soothing things to him as his breathing starts to calm a little. It takes time, but eventually he starts to relax, body going limp as he lays in my arms, his larger form awkwardly wrapped around mine as he depresses his face into the crook of my neck.

I barely hear his broken voice as he whispers to me.

"Thank you." 

Breathing in his familiar scent, I just mould myself closer, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead as he does the same to my neck.

"I'm here for you, John. I'm here, and I'll never leave. Not as long as I live, I promise."

[ohheyitsokay]

slowly

Pairing: Jack Daniels (Agent Whiskey) x  (f) ace!reader

Wordcount: 2.2k

Warnings: discussions of sex and related topics, maybe some angst? a lot more analogies than actual descriptions 

Summary: a drive in theatre, a budding relationship, and a whole lot of mutual support

Notes: okay obviously this is a wildly personal topic - I fully understand that asexuality looks different for everyone. For full disclosure, in this story, the reader knows they are somewhere on the asexuality spectrum, but is not aromantic. They are also are on a path of self discovery and are open to learning about themselves. This IS NOT saying asexuals who are like this are growing "better" than those who are not interested. Asexuals who do know what they do and dont want are perfect and do not need to change or compromise as part of their personal growth.

There will be an optional part 2 where they have more conversations about intimacy and explore together what works for them, but again, this is not everyone's story, or the "right" way, it's just... one story.

That being said, I genuinely hope yall enjoy!

>>

You stared at the bashful man in front of you openly, your hands stilling on the groceries you were halfway done unloading.

Even the slightest rustle of the cloth bags was painfully loud in the silence that stretched between you.

Jack had burst through your door, confident as always, but it was a thin layer over his anxious heart. With two long strides, he was pulling you into his arms, almost crushing you against his chest.

Arms winding around his middle, you held him just as tightly before you found your voice again.

“You’re back,” you said, simply amazed that he was a whole week early from the long mission. “When did you get back?”

You hadn’t realized he had picked you up until your feet were on solid ground again, and he was pulling away.

“Just a few hours ago, I had to make it back in time for opening night, right?” he grinned winningly.

You tried not to overthink, feeling a jolt of excitement that he remembered – tonight. The drive-in theatre in town was opening for the season and you had been more than excited. As one of your most consistent movie night friends, Jack had promised to take you, full of butterflies and subtext.

For as close as you’d gotten over the past few months, you weren’t sure what to make of his expression.

“If that’s okay? I should’ve double checked,” you hadn’t responded and it was apparently making him nervous.

“Yeah, Jack, that sounds great,” you reassured him, turning back to your groceries, equally nervous.

If you were being honest, you hadn’t expected him to remember because it had almost felt like an off-hand comment at the time, and you hadn’t wanted to get your hope up to much.

Something was welling in your stomach as you turned away from him fully, putting each item in its respective home in your kitchen. You liked him, of course you liked him. He was bold and kind and passionate, and more handsome than seemed reasonable for a single person. And… and when he was nearby, there was a feeling of safety, just out of reach, like water lapping at your feet at the beach.

It was more than tempting but, same as the ocean, there was also an uneasiness in the unknown. The same uneasiness was present in every relationship you’d ever had – because you had a secret.

Well, it was less of a secret and more… something you were figuring out that you hadn’t talked about much. Despite long late night talks and months of growing close and even slowly falling for each other, you hadn’t quite found the courage to talk to Jack about it yet. The more real the soft, sweet moments between you got, the more the unease filled your bones. You knew how he was with other women, and each time his hand lingered on your hip, your shoulder, your cheek, a quiet voice whispered that he deserved better.

Jack was staring at you, lost in your thoughts as you mechanically worked your way through the bags. His heart ached for you, and he wished more than anything that you trusted him with whatever you were holding back. But he was a determined man – he would do whatever he could to show you that no matter what, he wasn’t going anywhere.

 -

After awhile, Jack coaxed you back to your normal self, telling you as much of his mission as he could and helping you cook dinner. Moving around your kitchen was wonderfully peaceful, a little bubble of intimacy. Food was great for neutralizing anxious thoughts.

The feeling continued into his truck as you excitedly packed blankets and he fought the urge to kiss your adorable face when you found the snacks he’d picked up. Even before he left, in anticipation for tonight, he cleaned the front seat thoroughly, and made sure his radio was in good condition.

The movie went well too, but as much as he wanted to pull you into his arms, press you into his side, be the warmth against the cool night air, there was a hesitation that held him at bay.

Every time he’d reach for you, cautious and gentle, your skin would twitch, almost jumping away before you’d smile at him and lean into it. You seemed happy, but part of your mind was holding you back. As friends, you two were relatively physically affectionate, so he made a mental note to tread light and watch for more cues. Jack never wanted to impose himself on anyone but with you, even less.

So he waited. He had no doubt you’d talk to him when you were ready, and heavens knows that he had plenty of things he had kept buried. It was still nice, hearing you laugh next to him - just him – and seeing the light reflecting off the movie dance across your skin. Talking with you was always easy, even more so without friends or family around and it made Jack ache with eagerness.

As he pulled up to your home, he gently took your hand.

“Darlin, it was plum delightful to take you out tonight,” he said, cursing himself internally for how nervous he sounded. You looked his, eyes catching the streetlight like magic and your gentle squeeze gave him courage.

“I really would like to take you out again, on a proper date,” he couldn’t look away from your eyes, trying to read them through the murkiness. “I really like you,” Jack added, quieter, “but you don’t have to respond right now.”

You nodded, your eyes closing tight as though you were at war with yourself.

You think you like me, but I’m not the type of girl you want to date.

“You don’t have to… tell me, if you’re not ready, but,” he offered after a long moment, his free hand flexing on the steering wheel as he forced himself to examine the bushes on the side of the parking lot. “But I’m listening.”

You felt both hot and cold at the same time. All evening you could feel it coming, knew it was going to happen, knew it had to. He deserved this conversation, and honestly, if there was anyone who made you feel like you did, too, it was Jack.

Inhale, exhale. 

Inhale -

“Okay,” - exhale. 

Remembering that neither of you had work the next day helped. Slowly you let go of your hand and unbuckled your seatbelt, shifting to get comfortable again, the actions thick with significance. He returned it, unbuckling too, and killing the engine.

Jack was so respectful you could cry, his obvious anxiety under control enough not to jump to conclusions – to wait for you.

“I like you, too, Jack, but I don’t think we can ever date,” you forced the words out and his heart nearly shattered, confusion barely holding it together.

Eyebrows so drawn in they almost looked like a solid line, he waited, unable to stop a small shake of his head.

Why not? His entire being screamed. With each second that passed, more and more determination seeped into the cracks of his heart, sticking it together. If you liked him as he liked you, it seemed impossible there was anything between you that couldn’t be overcome.

You saw the question in his eyes and the explanation tumbled out.

“It’s just, I know you – I know the girls you go after and the type of relationships most men want. And,” you were sucking in air, the vulnerability raking through your lungs. “And I don’t know if I can ever give you that.”

He started to protest before his hand covered his mouth, irritated movements over his mustache, his jaw working. What he wanted was you. But he needed to let you keep talking. If he interrupted you now, he might never understand what you meant.

You watched his movements, desperation to give him the explanation he deserved growing in you.

“I’ve had people break up with me because I wont sleep with them,” you shoved the words into the space, the most honest you’d maybe ever been.

Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn’t that. Your voice was trembling and so quiet only your moving lips confirmed the words as you continued.

“For me, it’s not something I need, or am particularly comfortable with. You,” you swallowed hard, unable to look at the man beside you. “You deserve someone you can be with, however you want.”

You took another deep breath, feeling light and surprisingly at peace with your honesty. Even the impending rejection felt less scary, now that you had said it all out loud. The trembles settled as you concluded, “I’m still figuring myself out and I just cant guarantee I’ll ever give you what you deserve.”

Of all the conversations with all the others before this, this moment felt the most freeing. It was wild to have such an intimate conversation before you even kissed, but… the foundation of trust that Jack had given you had not been lost on you. You found yourself smiling, looking at him, finally.

His expression had loosened, processing and connecting the dots, his deep eyes unfocused before they slid closed.

Now it was your turn to wait, to be patient, and listen.

Part of him wanted to yell that he wasn’t like the others, that he didn’t care and even that he would wait and work until you were ready. But that wasn’t right, and he knew it.

Inside him, deep, deep down, there was a small light. A candle of flame underneath a glacier: a touch of hope slowly warming its way through layers and layers and centuries of expectations, fear, confusion, and chaos. It was going strong, it just need more time.

“Darlin,” he looked at you, finally, meeting your eyes and feeling for the first time that they were a clear window into your soul. “You are… everything, to me. So… so let’s just take some time to process this. Would that be okay, sweetheart?”

That was the first time anyone had ever responded that way. It was the scariest thing, but it was perfect. You were overwhelmed with the rawness and a glance at the radio told you it was 2 am. Not a time to be making life altering decisions, anyway. Nodding, you pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. The movement was intimate and confident – something that shouldn’t have been possible, but it was.

Jack’s large hand grasped at your neck and jaw, pulling you into him, pressing his forehead on yours. The hairs of his mustache just ticked your lip, but he made no move, respecting one final boundary for the night.

With a squeeze, he let you go, watching with longing eyes as you hopped out of his truck and ran to your front door. The smile you gave him before you slipped inside was the seal, engraving tonight into his memories forever.

And he drove home, his thoughts louder than the wind and the crickets and his pounding heart.

-

Jack invited you over a few days later, a Sunday afternoon. It would be the first time you’d talked, and you were surprisingly calm. For some reason, you felt like you’d be closer to him no matter what happened.

He heard your car on the long gravel driveway and greeted you with an all-encompassing hug. You held each other, like lifelines, for long moments before he pulled you inside.

“My mama sent cookies,” he said, motioning for you to sit at the tall table he had as he set down the plate. You couldn’t help but smile, knowing their Sunday lunches and her beloved baking well. He remained standing across from you, aware of the awkwardness, but eager to get his words right.

“This is all new to me,” he said, wishing suddenly that he’d made tea so his throat wouldn’t feel so dry. “If you really don’t wanna be with me, that’s your choice,” he said, knowing it was right and hating the option, “but I really – you’re just so – I can’t let you go,” his thoughts were jumbling together on his tongue.

It was grounding, when your hands found his, reaching across the table as you sat forward on your stool.

“What if we just took it slow?” you said, and his heart stopped.

“Please,” he managed, and your own chest felt like it would burst. “Would it be alright, darlin?” Jack’s hands held yours, his expression eager.

“Could – could we figure out what works for us? Figure this all out together?” You were close to crying, you wanted that so bad.

“I can’t promise I’ll change or… or what direction I’ll grow,” you said, needing to say it again, needing to be sure.

“I can’t, either, darlin,” he said, and you realized he was right and you would support each other, no matter what.

“But all I need is you. Whatever and however much you’ll give me. That’s more than enough.”

He didn’t say for now.

And you believed him.

Since he was still standing, it made it easy for you to tug him around the table, and you leaned into his chest. It felt safe, safer than you had ever thought was possible for you.

“Okay,” you told the flannel he was wearing, “Let’s figure it out together.” And even though you couldn’t see him, you knew he was smiling, too.

<<

Taglist:

@fangirl-316 @0celestialbitch0 @scribbledghost

[thebadbatch]

Echo x Gn!Reader

Plot: You and Echo sneak out to enjoy the planets scenery, connections are made together during the time you spend exploring.

Warnings: None! Just fun and fluff

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

Moonlit freedom.

Lounging around on the well-known Havoc Marauder wasn't anything drastically different compared to your usual packed and mission filled day, but something was pulling on your heart and playing on your mind in the most delightful way. Gazing around the cockpit, you couldn't help but gaze at the setting Sun before you. The sun that you unfortunately didn't get to see too much due to travelling in Space constantly was giving off powerful strides of honey orange with a golden sunflower toned yellow interlacing it. Fluffy white clouds hovered over the hills and what seemed to be trillions of trees waving toward you softly against the gusts of wind. The batch had agreed on landing here to go into hiding for a few days, all part of a well paid mission you had all thoroughly enjoyed. A sudden yet gentle hand placed itself upon your shoulder which only furtherly added to your smile and that growing excitement building against your heart and mind. 

"Enjoying the view?" Echo's joyful words filled the otherwise quiet cockpit. Turning gently in his light grip, you grinned up toward him with the usual spark of Mischief lurking in your eyes. "Oh Maker, what are you thinking?" That gentle laugh of yours escaped your lips, moving to hold his colder hand and pout jokingly.

"And what makes you think I'm up to no good?" He just shook his head, smiling softly at you as he gave your hand a light squeeze.

"That look in your eyes, I know you're planning something." Echo was right, as always. The batch had all been tuckered out as the sun began to set which left both you and Echo up to wonder about the attack shuttle you loved so much. Letting go of his gloved hand, you moved to lean over the control panel ensuring you didn't click any of the buttons otherwise Tech would murder you. 

"I want to sneak out!" That was definitely not something he expected to hear from the person who was a literal killing machine out on the battlefield. 

"Sneak out?" He repeated, looking at the scenery before you both with a curious gaze. Tilting your head a little to face him again you couldn't help but gasp as another idea crept into your head which almost knocked you off of your feet. You were just that excited. 

"Come with me!" You managed to steady yourself on your feet with a little of Echo's help as he sighed a little, trying to seem all resistant against your idea. "It'll be fun - please?"

"Yeah, yeah alright y/n." Echo was a little hesitant and you knew that. He wasn't one to do something spontaneous as he was one of the most rule-following clones you knew which you kinda felt bad about. Not only was he once assigned to Anakin Skywalker's Squad but then he joined the bad batch, all of which were terrible with rules and routines. Turning toward the world that awaited your arrival, you noticed the golden yellows and amber oranges began to darken even more with stars beginning to appear.

"Come on! Let's go." With that, you tugged on his hand and activated the shuttle to open the door, smiling as the planet's fresh air filled your lungs. You weren't used to such calm planets as the last few missions led you all to worlds with atmospheres you couldn't breathe in or just overall way too dangerous. Softly walking forward, the emerald bladed grass greeted your feet and the soft gusts of wind movedthe hair away from your eyes with a little of Echos help. 

"Where exactly are we heading to?" He asked, curiosity drowning out his usual tone as you both walked into the distance, still in view of the attack shuttle. Swiftly moving past some taller trees coated in beautiful coffee stained oak, your eyes laid upon the glistening blue lake your eyes had met earlier. 

"There." You couldn't help but smile as you pointed toward the calm water, something you really weren't used to seeing. All of you were used to rough and angry oceans which would claim any life that dared to face it. This was a welcome change though, you desperately wanted to feel the calm water against your skin. Once you finally arrived, you let go of Echos hand and knelt beside it against quartz and moonstone toned pebbles."Woah…" You whispered softly placing your hands within the water and shivering at its cool touch. "Echo! Try." He hesitantly knelt beside you, placing his hand beside yours in the cold water, shivering with you at the sudden drop of temperature. You laughed a little at his confused expression before rolling up the clothing you wore against your legs, gently stepping into the water gripping onto Echo as that familiar cold temperature shook your body. 

"Be careful, mesh'la." Those words alone warmed you up as you allowed yourself to Splash about, kicking against the water with a laugh. Gazing over at Echo, you tilted your head and gave him another soft smile before holding your hand out for him to take. "Ah, I dont think I can." His previous smile dulled as he held onto his prosthetic arm, a more pained expression appearing. "Tech will kill me if my prosthetics kriff up." Softly taking your hand back you walked towards him and placed your cold hands against his cheeks as you spoke.

"That's Okay! You're wearing armour on your legs… I promise to make sure you're all dry and everything when we get back?" Your tone was convincing but it definatly relaxed Echo as he nodded a little, stepping into the water with a smile. The chill seemed to reach through his armour as your cold hand held his own. Gazing along the water, you couldn't help but breathe out a sigh of relief as the moon glistened against the lake. Just you and Echo, in all honesty all you needed to recharge was this. A sudden splash dragged you back to reality quite suddenly before realizing you were absolutely soaked beside a laughing Echo. Without any hesitation you splashed some water against Echos face which left you both dripping wet and laughing. Stopping for a moment, You planted a kiss against his lips that instantly warmed him up along with yourself. " I love you."

" I love you too…" 

The small waterfight continued for a few more hours until you both arrived back at the Havoc Marauder dripping wet and praying to your maker that the others had awoken. Walking up the ramp, you shut it behind you both before nearly jumping out of  your skin with Hunter standing in the middle of the Cockpit in his blacks, arms folded. Oh kriff… Both of you stood still like a deer in headlights.

"And what do you two think You're doing back so late?" Echo could no longer hold in his laughter as he held onto you which just made you laugh twice as hard. Hunter just sighed and rubbed his forehead, "I could literally hear you both from a mile away now get dried up and to your bunks alright?" Even he couldn't hold back a smirk as he walked back to his own bunk thankful for some newfound silence. You both obliged, drying up and going into your bunk after convincing Echo to stay for 'body warmth' reasons. You were both entangled in eachothers arms , warming up and finally allowing much-welcomed sleep to greet you both. Adventures like these were everything to you and you knew there were plenty more to come.

[thefatedthoughtofyou]

Soft

(((i've wanted to write something like this for awhile. and i ranted to a friend (@tinyboop thanks lovely!!!) and finally did. My depression has been acting a fool the last week or so, so i may revisit this concept and like... flesh it out, and add more things and just... i dont know. do more with it. but for now, have this. enjoy lovelies i hope you like it! <3 thanks for reading as always!)))

Ao3

The sun shining on him through the windows of the bookshop was warm, verging on hot really, for how long he’d been laying in it. It was perfect. He had his arm draped over his eyes, listening to Aziraphale rattling around the shop. He heard cups clinking in the kitchen and smiled to himself, he could see the angel, washing all his forgotten cocoa mugs that had been gathering around the shop. Crowley rubbed his eyes, shifted deeper into the couch, and the sun, and threw his arm back over his face. Settling into his sunspot with a wiggle and a sigh.

He hears the angel’s footsteps and nearly smiles again. But the footsteps are coming toward him and he doesn’t want to risk it. He listens to him pace. A frown creases his brow under his arm. Aziraphale pacing never bodes well. He keeps still, listening, waiting to see if he’ll stop. Or say something. It’s usually one or the other.

“Am I –“ Aziraphale starts and then pauses.

“What angel?” Crowley asks, encouraging him.

“Am I soft?” Aziraphale asks, standing still now. Crowley snorts into his elbow.

“Of course you’re soft angel.” He says it like it’s obvious. Because it is.

Silence.

He moves his arm off his eyes the smallest amount.

More silence. And then a small tinkling sound.

Crowley sits up quickly, looking around at the, now empty, bookshop.

“Angel?” his voice is quiet. He shoves himself to his feet, peeks into the next room.

Empty.

“Angel?” a little louder.

“Where in the…” he sways in a circle, his arms flailing and then falling to his side. His stomach sinks as he checks the other rooms. No angel. He sighs, grabs his sunglasses, shoves them onto his face, and walks out the door, flipping the sign to closed as he goes, locking the doors with a snap as he crosses the street to the Bentley. He watches the bookshop for two hours. The sun drops behind the horizon and the windows stay dark. He sighs again and drives away.

Two weeks.

Two weeks and nothing.

All of Crowley’s calls go unanswered. There are several calls. More than Crowley would ever admit to. The windows of the bookshop stay dark. Crowley swears, one day, he’d seen the lights blink out just as he’d rounded the corner, he’d sat outside that day. Waiting. He didn’t know for what.

He pulls up to the bookshop, the sun long gone down, the streets long empty, and the lights. The lights in the bookshop are shining. He climbs out of the Bentley and walks to the door nervously. He shouldn’t be nervous. This was ridiculous. It was Aziraphale. He didn’t need to be nervous. He was pretty sure he didn’t need to be nervous. But things were different now. After everything that had happened, maybe he should be nervous. He looked down at the fancy French chocolates in his hand, rolled his eyes at himself, and stepped through the door silently.

He blinked slowly, not sure exactly what he was seeing. Aziraphale was there. But he was wearing… was that a track suit? A bright, white, track suit with baby blue pinstripes up and down the sides. He was doing some kind of stretching, facing away from Crowley. His neck was red, flushed, and Crowley could see the sweat dripping off him. He was suddenly very hot. His fingers drummed quietly against the box of chocolates as he watched Aziraphale bend down, touching his toes and then back up again. Crowley bit his lip and watched the angel rest his hands on his hips. He could hear him breathing heavily, he licked his lips as he watched his shoulders rise and fall heavily.

“What in heaven are you doing angel?” he can hear how off his voice is, all high and squeaky. He clears his throat, opens his mouth to say more but something isn’t right. Aziraphale is looking at him, all red faced, and sweaty, and… beautiful. But there’s… something else. Crowley cocks his head to the side. He looks… sad. And tired, dark circles coloring the skin under his eyes.

“Angel…?”

Aziraphale is silent. His hands clasped together in front of him as he looks at the floor. Crowley clears his throat again.

“I erm… Listen I’m not… sure. What I did to upset you. But I know that you are upset, and I’m sorry.” He walks toward the angel slowly, holding out the chocolates at arm’s length. Aziraphale looks up at him, takes the chocolates gently, and then seems to deflate.

“Oh Crowley.” He sighs, and collapses onto the couch. His track suit replaced by his normal threads between the moment his knees begin to bend and when his thighs hit the cushion. And Crowley, like they’re magnetized, follows him. Knee pressing against Aziraphale’s thigh, and he notes the way he pulls away slightly, tries to make himself smaller. And it clicks.

He'd asked if he was soft. And Crowley remembered the way Gabriel had talked to him. The way he'd looked at him. All hard judgment and sharp edges. And his chest aches. He reaches out. He can’t help it. He always wants to touch him. Needs to. His hand falls gently on Aziraphale's thigh, closer to his knee really. And he feels him move away again. He squeezes his fingers, pressing them into Aziraphale with a purpose.

"Angel." and Aziraphale won’t look at him. His cheeks still red. Almost the color of cherries now.

"Aziraphale. Look at me." and he does. Because it's Crowley. And no matter how upset he is, he'll listen to Crowley.

"You're soft."

Aziraphale frowns, his hands wringing in his lap.

"Hey. Soft is good."

Aziraphale snorts.

"No it is!" Crowley argues, his fingers pressing harder into the meat of Aziraphale's thigh. He notes the way Aziraphale squirms, doesn’t stop.

"I like you soft. Softness fits you. You're... you're comfortable. Like a... eh... em.. uh... like ..." he stammers.... words failing him as they often do. He pulls his sunglasses off and rubs at his eyes with his free hand, trying to find the right words.

"Like your favorite comfy reading chair!" He pulls out of nowhere, shouting it a bit too loud. But Aziraphale looks at him for a moment and then smiles. So it doesn't matter.

"I'm a reading chair?" He asks, and Crowley can hear him suppressing amusement. He nods, moves his hand up a bit higher, making Aziraphale’s eyes lock onto it, his throat making a little sound as he tries to swallow.

"My favorite reading chair." He says with a smirk. Aziraphale rolls his eyes.

"You don’t even read." He dismisses.

"I don’t read books." Crowley corrects. Aziraphale looks him, puzzled now. Crowley sighs, swallows down his nerves. He moves closer. His hand moving to rest on Aziraphale's soft stomach, Aziraphale tenses under the touch, Crowley presses closer still, crowding into his angel’s space.

"I don’t read books." He repeats, his voice low.

"But I've been reading you for almost 6000 years." Aziraphale's breath catches.

"Crowley-" 

"I've been reading you since we met and I can tell when somethings wrong. I can feel it angel. And I promise you." He moves his hand to Aziraphale's side, his thumb moving in slow circles.

"There is nothing wrong, with you being soft. It's not a bad thing to be. You being soft is perfect. You're supposed to be soft. It’s part of who you are. It's part of why I -" he cuts himself off and Aziraphale stares at him, eyes moving over Crowley’s face, stopping at his mouth more than once and Crowley swallows hard again.

"Part of why you what?" Aziraphale whispers, his hand moving to Crowley’s shoulder, finally moving toward him instead of away.

"I um... well.... it's uh..." he sighs and drops his head on Aziraphale's shoulder suddenly. He can feel Aziraphale press closer, feels him smile into his hair.

"Oh go on, you've said so many nice things already. Might as well finish your thought dear." His hand moves up over Crowley’s neck and into his hair, Crowley shivers and hums, a strange sounding rumble in his chest that makes Aziraphale smile again.

"Stop fishing for compliments. It doesn't look good on you" Crowley mumbles. Aziraphale chuckles, moves his fingers over Crowley’s scalp slowly.

"I think we both know you think most things look good on me." His voice low now, deeper than usual. Crowley’s head shoots up and he stares at the angel, he can feel his eyes changing, can feel the yellow in them bleeding out.

"I-"

Aziraphale smirks at him.

"You?" And he's positively insufferable now, nearly wiggling with delight in Crowley’s grasp.

"I... I love you." He breathes, a sigh, like a breath of air he's been dying to let out and finally can. Aziraphale's cheeks tint, just the smallest amount. And then he's smiling, grinning at Crowley, and he can feel his own cheeks heating up, he goes to drop his head again but Aziraphale catches him. His hand on Crowley’s cheek.

"I love you too. You must know that." Aziraphale's eyes are so wide, so honest. Crowley swallows again.

"I- I hoped. I didn't- I wasn't-"

"I do. I do very much." Aziraphale reassures, not letting him finish. Crowley nods. He doesn't know what else to do. Aziraphale does though. Because he always does.

"Let’s make a deal." Crowley’s eyebrow jumps, curious.

"I'll stop this working out and worrying nonsense, no more thinking I’m not- not good enough." Crowley’s nodding already, Aziraphale smirks at him.

"If you, stop wearing those retched sunglasses." Crowley frowns, his stomach drops, he tries to pull away, doesn’t want to talk about that, not right now, Aziraphale holds him still.

"Not always. Just here. Just with me. When it's us. Here. Together.” He moves his thumb against Crowley’s cheek.

“I do so love your eyes you know." He moves his hand to Crowley’s face, finger tips trailing gently under Crowley’s eye, and then up along his cheekbone.

"You do?" He sounds skeptical, and Aziraphale frowns at him.

"Of course I do. They're part of who you are." He smiles, a soft thing. And Crowley can’t help himself, he needs to taste that softness.

He presses forward. Aziraphale sighs into him, holding him close. Their lips move together for a moment. Or maybe several moments. Or maybe no time at all. Crowley doesn't know. Doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter. They move apart at the same time, together. Crowley rests his forehead against Aziraphale’s, trying to level his breathing. He can hear Aziraphale trying to steady himself as well. He opens his eyes and finds his angel matching his smile. He moves his hand to Aziraphale's hip, fingers pressing in again, Aziraphale moves into the touch with a sigh.

"Deal." Crowley sighs, and pressed forward again, already needing more. Always more.

[mrobrotzly]

sometimes it feels like a blessing

for @geraskierhalloween

Magic + 5+1 + Knotting - 11k

Or 5 times Jaskier and Geralt could see the effect of magic on them and 1 time it took them a little to realize it.

One day, in the middle of spring, Geralt had a contract for some unknown creature and, obviously, failed to convince Jaskier to stay at the inn, it had been a decade since they met and Geralt was never good at getting the troubadour to obey any of his commands - even if they're to keep him out of harm's way.

Fortunately, the creature wasn't dangerous, a hybrid of several animals, but - 'cause it attacked him and almost hurt Jaskier (which was what most infuriated Geralt, if the creature hadn't come close to the bard, it would probably be alive now, but he would never say it out loud, obviously, it wasn't like he cared, was it?) - it's no longer breathing at the moment.

The problem was - and seriously, Geralt should have thought of it earlier - that hybrids don't just exist freely, they're created. And they're usually created by people who're mostly crazy and who're, even worse, mages.

"My poor Delilah!" the sorceress was in front of both of them, eyes shining with anger and unshed tears, she prepared to release her chaos, but Geralt drew his sword quickly, making her hesitate.

“You killed her! My own creation!" Geralt watched her carefully, she was clearly not someone with a sane mind "Do you know what it's like to love something, Witcher?” she spat out the last word, making a face of disgust "I don't think you know, shame!" she laughed a bitter and hysterical laugh "I would love to destroy everything you love."

Her growl made him clench his fist in the sword's hilt, unconsciously taking a step to the side, hiding the bard behind his body.

She raised her eyebrows, tilting her head to the side, watching him for a few seconds and smiling, a smile that made the Witcher felt an unpleasant feeling grow in his body.

"Pretty little thing you’ve there, uh?!" she purred and Geralt felt a growl rumbling in his chest “A bard? Would you play for me, dear?”

Jaskier stuttered, Geralt didn't need to look at him to know that his blue eyes were wide.

"Leave him out of this" he said firmly, his voice lower than usual.

She gave a cynical laugh.

"Why, Witcher?" and she tentatively took a step forward, Geralt clenched his teeth, his knuckles white for gripping the sword's hilt “Your pet for mine. It seems like a fair exchange…” she tried to move again, Geralt's body moved together to stop her “The things I would do to him…”

This time he snarled and the sorceress narrowed her eyes, anger returning to her face.

"Let's do it in the difficult way then."

And she raised her hands, sending a pulse of magic at the same time that Geralt casted Quen, protecting him and Jaskier, he could hear the bard's surprised gasp and the sorceress' disgruntled noise for not having succeeded in the spell.

He pushed Jaskier aside, behind the nearest tree, as he went towards the woman, she was good at dodging, but not attacking and her magic wasn’t powerful enough to hurt him badly - probably the power she has was only for breeding creatures and hybrids, not for battles.

She danced - and had no better word to describe what she was doing - around him and even without causing significant damage, he felt her chaos tiring him every time it came in contact with his skin, making him even more irritated 'cause it's delaying his movements.

She laughed, dodging a blow from the sword and snapping her fingers "In a moment the magic will fully affect you, Witcher, and you'll no longer be able to move."

"Not if I kill you first" he grunted and, honestly, he didn't want to have to kill anyone that day, he only accepted the contract 'cause it seemed easy, but of course Destiny would laugh at his face.

He dodged a spell, one of the weakest he has ever seen or feel and he would have laughed at it had it not been for the yelp he heard coming from behind him, the spell had chipped a piece of the wood.

"Jaskier!" he called, without taking his eyes off the enemy.

"I'm fine!" was the answer, but he didn't have time to feel relieved 'cause the sorceress moved her hands again, this time deliberately missing Geralt, trying to hit the tree protecting the bard.

"Your fight is with me!" Geralt grunted, sword passing very close to the woman's chest.

"I don’t think so" she laughed and moved quickly, now closer to where Jaskier was "Let's see if you'll like to feel what I'm feeling."

As she raised her arms he heard Jaskier choking, as if trying to breathe while someone tightened their hands around his neck and he felt his whole body go cold, memories of the moment when he saw the bard spitting blood, his purple and swollen throat and Geralt being unable to do anything to help him...

The only thing that kept him from being still and unable to react was the years of training on Kaer Morhen, the woman was focused on the spell, frowning and the Witcher realized it was a difficult spell for her, so it would be the perfect time for he to attack.

When she realized he was approaching it was too late, he already had half the blade of his sword buried in her stomach.

"You" she said, widening her eyes as he pushed the sword deeper, her arms falling limp beside his body "One day, Witcher, you'll lose everything" she whispered to him, laughing and looking at him hysterically “They're going to leave. And you'll be alone like you truly deserve” she tried to spat blood on his face before falling forward when he pulled the sword out of her body.

And on the ground, meters from where her creature was, the sorceress stayed.

"Are you alright?" a soft voice asked, Geralt turned, seeing Jaskier behind him, looking at him with concern.

"I should be the one asking you that" he said.

"I'm. Thanks to you” the bard smiled at him and something in Geralt's chest calmed down, he felt a wave of relief relaxing every part of his body as he looked at Jaskier.

That was until the bard widened his eyes and opened his mouth as if something was very wrong.

"What?" the grip on the sword's hilt tightened, he looked around.

"Geralt!" he exclaimed taking a step forward "Look at me."

The Witcher looked at the troubadour, frowning in confusion, the feeling getting worse when he saw a smile spread across Jaskier's face. Did some magic hit the bard and he's going crazy? Geralt frowned, feeling concern wash over him.

"Okay, this is amazing!" Jaskier laughed, delighted with something, his face lighting up in a way that made Geralt's chest warm and he didn't want to understand why.

"Bard" he said warningly.

"Oh, no, don't bard me" Jaskier pointed a finger at him, but was still smiling "This is fantastic, Geralt."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" he started to get annoyed, Jaskier not going straight to the point getting on his nerves.

"Okay, okay" he raised his arms in surrender "No need to be angry."

"I'm not" maybe a little.

"Yes, you're, it's on your face" he gestured with his hand "literally, Geralt, your eyes are red."

He blinked, staring at Jaskier to make sure it wasn't a prank, if that was true it meant that magic had affected him in other ways besides physical tiredness. Was this the only side effect? Or would there be others?

“They're turning orange now... Look, I learned a lot at Oxenfurt and I'm very wise in several subjects, but, unfortunately, not the meaning of colors, so you've to tell me: what are you feeling, Geralt?”

"I don’t-"

"Don't what? Have feelings?” the bard laughed wryly "Come on, Geralt, I've known you for a decade! I know very well that you feel and how much you feel, well Yennefer is a proof of that.”

The Witcher pressed his lips at the mention of the sorceress, refusing to look away from Jaskier, the bard raised his eyebrows.

"Black?" he brought his face close and Geralt held his breath. "It wasn't what I was expecting when I mentioned her."

He felt the irritation build up again.

"I'm not an experiment for your fun, bard" He practically spat, turning and starting to walk towards the camp, sword, still stained with blood, in his hands. Jaskier sighed.

"Okay, I admit, it wasn't fair" he followed Geralt and maybe, just maybe, the Witcher was walking more slowly so the troubadour could catch up "But you can't blame me for being curious, I'm a bard, Geralt!"

He didn't answer either that or the dozens of other things Jaskier said before they got to the camp.

And it was a little uncomfortable to sit on the forest floor and clean his swords while the bard stared at him like that.

"How long do you think the spell will last?" he asked.

"I don't know, she wasn't a very good witch."

Jaskier laughed and he felt the sound melting all his annoyance, he frowned at it while cleaning the iron blade with a cloth.

"Don't you want to see?" Jaskier asked "You know... your eyes."

“Why would I? I can feel the magic, I don't need to see it to know it's here.”

The bard shrugged.

"I dont know. I always wanted to know what I would look like if my eyes were a different color, maybe green or brown.”

Geralt stopped what he was doing, lifting his head and looking at Jaskier's face. The first thing he thought was "why?"

Why change such beautiful blue? Blue that he adores to look at, that seemed to shine every time the bard smiled or performed in places where his music was appreciated, blue like an ocean that want to pull him, drown him and he knew he wouldn't try to resist these waves. Eyes so beautiful that with one look the bard have him in the palm of his hands. Eyes that, for some reason, now stared at him with delight.

"That's a beautiful color..." Jaskier whispered so sincerely, smiling in such a way that Geralt had to bend his head and watch his dim reflection on the blade.

And he saw pink, a light and soft pink.

He swallowed, suddenly wanting to run away from there.

The truth was that he knew the meaning of colors, he'd read about it in one of the books he found in Vesemir's personal collection when he was a boy and, thanks to whatever made his memory flawless, he remembered it very well.

He stood up turning his face away, hiding it from Jaskier and looking towards the forest.

"I'm going to get us dinner."

And left without waiting for an answer. Ignoring not only the confused look the bard had on his face, but also the felling that growed up in his chest, this would be just one more thing he would bury and try to forget.

(Continue to read on AO3)

♡ if you enjoy my work, you can support me & buy me a coffee ☕️

[blanket-hole]

Im calling this the faberry files cos I feel like a spy when I'm really just very gay

This is just basically timestamps of every faberry moment I could find as I was rewatching season 1-3. I don't know if anyone wants to see it but I just put it here cos why not. I wasn't really planning on posting it but here we are so it features my gay ass commentary. Anyway there u go.

gay ass looks-

-1x04- so far I’ve seen a gay ass look Quinn gives Rachel at 35:36

-1x05-39:50-not that gay but a little bit, also long

-1x09-43:02 she looks so adoring

-1x10-during endless love

-1x11-9:37 voiceover is mean but just look at those eyes and tell me I’m wrong,34:00 she literally looks so adoringly I can’t

-1x12-10:41 pretends not to see her only to look straight (or not) at her

-1x15-35:02 they’re even talking about love at the time and sitting weirdly close for enemies

-1x16-41:30 

-1x20-43:06 I can’t really see where she’s looking under those long ass lashes but I think when Rachel does that little giggle she stares at her while smiling, might just be Faberry goggles tho

-1x22-9:05 I think thats like the cutest smile my little gay heart, 14:23 Quinn is fully checking her out rn like not even subtle they’re on stage

-2x04 16:12, 41:48 at Rachel singing

-2x07-23:19 that could in no way be regarded as a platonic look of enjoying the song, especially since its just started 

-2x09- 43:04 part of dog days but its just so cute them holding hands also weird since they are still meant to hate each other lol

-2x10-6:03 this could just be my Faberry goggles but im counting it :D, 31:20 staring at Rachel while she looks sad

-2x11-11:04 could be at puck but she was looking at Rachel before when they were further apart so imma take the w also Diana looks really cute in this bit

-2x16- 4:27 is being kinda mean but also the way she looks at her <3<3<3 :DD also 5:21 if u don’t want to wait through a bit of a scene and the look then is suuuuper gay, 43:17 she looks so proud of her girlfriend :DDDDD

-2x18-52:49 she looks like such a proud girlfriend in this bit

-2x21-1:29 its only a quick look from Quinn tho

-3x06-28:26 Quinn gives Rachel the GAYEST lingering look at the end of the song (unless my eyes deceive me but I don’t think they do cos I’ve checked like 3 times :DDD)

-3x07- 25:00 this is possible the outright gayest look from Quinn ive ever seen, its during one of the songs but I had to put it in

-3x08- 41:10 the look of joy on Quinns face when Rachel touches her shoulder is just pure gay energy

-3x14- 17:27 ‘for the rest of my life’ looks at Quinn, ffs just get married already, 24:07 she literally bites her lip like wth how is this not canon

-3x19- 39:08 kind of but Quinn looks really happy when he says Rachel Berryand its so cute

Scenes together-

-before I had this idea- the “eavesdrop much” talk, and a couple of other things e.g. the ru Paul scene and the sweetie scene. 

-1x05-41:59 during somebody to love weird foot tap thing

-1x06- 18:34 gay ass looks as well, 22:58

-1x07-21:45, 28:53 (the you obviously have a lot you need to express scene), 32:07 they just get wierdly closer for no reason

-1x09-26:09 not much but still

-1x13-3:06, 11:01

-1x15-34:18 sitting really close together next to each other when they’re meant to not like each other?

-1x20-5:42 they also sit really close and a bit of gay staring

-2x02 35:40 (on left of stage next to mike) they’re seen really close and talking, 38:55 standing unreasonably close and also in weird positions for a conversation, 31:28 Quinn looks really sad when Rachel sings to Finn (could also be a Fuinn thing tho so idk)

-2x04 28:11

-2x08-9:44

-2x13- 30:51

-2x14-8:19 its shortcut the level of gay panic on Quinns face is enough for its own spot

-2x15-0:03 how closeted is it to be the only two in the celibacy club fighting over a guy that neither of them want or need lmao I just think its really funny

-2x16-9:31 the level of gay panic on racehls face when she says she’s right is just a mood, 22:27 I think this is  a scene about miscommunication and Quinn blatantly states that she thinks Rachel is much better than Finn and that she believes in her I have a lot of feelings about this scene but ill leave it at that

-2x17-16:20

-2x18-2:38 not much tho, 10:53 they’re being civil and touchy feely also leads into pretty/unpretty, 21:50 when it pans to Quinn it makes it seem like it would be a Fuinn jealousy scene but she doesn’t look jealous at all just a bit sad i think she possibly is worried about Rachel and while she understands (which is why she’s helping) she wants her to feel beautiful in her own skin sorry if I read a bit too far in lol

-2x20-29:42, 33:12, 35:30 I love how finn last episode said Quinn was so closed off with her feelings and then this scene like maybe she can be herself around Rachel idk

-3x01-10:57 Skank Quinn fully checks Rachel out as she’s leaving in this scene also right after a scene where she said she’s not interested in the boys

-3x05-22:55 talking about finchel tho

-3x08-0:00, 21:54, 37:48

-3x11-14:28,20:00 is also a gay ass look but shes talking to Rachel so I put it here

-3x12-13:09 she only taps Rachel tho

-3x13-15:43 Quinn is acting like the stereotypical ‘gentleman’ and its very Faberry canon esque, to put it the best can

-3x14-34:28 this scene I just can’t the way Quinn lights up when she see her and her voice softens a bit and what she said this is the gayest scene no-one can explain it it a hetero way just ahh

-3x15-10:28 they’re holding hands :DD

-3x19-31:48 

-3x22-23:12 those tickets cost so much money I swear they should have been way better friends after high school pft, 40:15 Quinn looks so proud of her girlfriend

Possible scenes, could be just drama-

-1x09-29:27 could be at Rachel

-2x10-12:40 kind of about being sad about Finn but could be jealousy?

-2x16- 34:47 could be about Faberry but is framed as finchel or fuinn

-2x17- 37:28 probably just finchel drama but still Faberry jealousy

-2x18-17:16 they say how they’re ‘fighting about Rachel again’ and Im putting it in idc about finchel :DD

-2x19- 23:19 more about Fuinn like always in this category but Faberry jealousy

-2x22-2:27, 3:29, 8:25 finchel/fuinn/faberry jealousy

Sitting really close when they’re meant to not like each other-

-1x15-34:18 

-1x19-32:33 

-1x20-19:16 in the scene Quinn kinda checks her out but then they stand really close so I put it here

-2x02 23:24 sits really close to Rachel when she dresses in her Britney Spears costume and in the scene Quinn looks like she’s purposefully trying not to look at her and at 29:20 Quinn chose to sit right behind Rachel again, 39:52 seen sitting right behind her again

-2x10- 35:03 standing really close when it would make a difference if Quinn stood anywhere else (e.g. next to her friends or boyfriend) I just think its weird lol

-2x15- 6:28 (before Quinn starts plotting against Rachel, they’re in celibacy club together but all they do is argue so its still a bit weird)

-3x07- 4:54

I dont know where to put this-

-2x17- 35:10 they kinda just look a bit nervous and small interaction I just wanted to add this because I thought it was cute the way they moved around each other idk

-2x20- 14:46 Rachel knows Quinns eyes so well she knows the flower and colour of the ribbon (also gardenias are for secret love which it would surprise me if Rachel already knew)

-3x04-20:26 Rachel isn’t sitting near her boyfriend or anyone she’s even really friends with its a bit weird that shed be sitting in the corner right next to Quinn away from the other chairs

Songs- Ive probably missed a bunch of these but I tried lmao-

-somebody to love

-halo

-ride with me

-no air

-keep holding on

-bust a move

-proud Mary

-crazy in love

-imagine- there is a gay ass look

-you can’t always get what you want

-dont rain on my parade

-my life would suck without you

-gives u hell

-hello goodbye

-like a prayer

-home(kind of)

-give up the funk

-any way you want it

-faithfully

-dont stop delieving 

-Empire State of mind

-ice ice baby

-toxic

-damn it Janet

-time warp

-sweet transvestite

-start me up/living on a prayer

-hot patootie

-forget you

-umbrella/singin in the rain

-I think I wanna marry you

-just the way you are

-ive had the time of my life

-Valerie

-the Dog days are over

-the most wonderful day of the year

-welcome Christmas

-heads will roll/thriller

-fat bottomed girls

-sing

-blame it on the alcohol

-tik tok

-do you wanna touch

-afternoon delight

-get it right

-loser like me

-pretty/unpretty

-born this way

-pure imagination

-New York New York

-Fix you

-last Friday night

-hit me with your best shot/one way or another

-I cant go for that/ you make my dreams

-I kissed a girl

-feed the world

-summer nights

-we found love

-gotta be starting something

-Im sexy and I know it

-stereo hearts (not technicaly but a lot of Faberry so I’m putting it in)

-fly/I believe I can fly

-heres to us

-its not right but its okay

-its all coming back to me now

-paradise by the dashboard light

-we are the champions

-tongue tied

-you get what you give

[kinky-slutty-transman]

Here is what I have so far in my first smut fanfiction from once upon a time mother cora and daughter regina. Cora is also the queen of hearts and mean and vindictive and manipulative. Regina is also evil queen, but has changed her ways. Henry is Regina adopted son.

I'd love some feedback on it

I grabbed my romcom and settled in on the couch. It was quiet in the giant house. The only noise came from the grandfather clock in the hallway. It donged and chirped alerting to the half hour mark. I yawned and tried to focus my eyes on the page. It was late. Suddenly I heard the doorbell ring. Who was ringing at this hour of night? I really didn’t feel like getting up to get it so I just let it be. It kept on ringing and ringing. Could it be emma or Henry or both? They liked to keep ringing the doorbell till I came to the door just to annoy you as much as possible. I decided to get up and check.

    When I opened the door my mouth gaped. It wasn’t emma or henry, far from it. It was Cora. My mother. She smiled at me and her eyes flashed in the porch light. Her dark brown eyes that pulled you in. She was wearing a jumpsuit of some sort a dark green color and red lipstick. She had on leather gloves to match her jumpsuit and her hair was done in a fancy bun. 

    “Hello my daughter” She said. “Are we going to stand her all day?” She asked. She didn’t wait for a reply just walked in. She walked in and trotted over to the living room and sat down. I sat down on the couch.

    “What do you want?” I asked with suspision and aprehention. 

    “What I cant just pop in and visit my own daughter see how shes doing” She smiled at me. Cora always had an agenda.

    “You have any coffee or tea around here?” She asked. Cora didn’t wait for me to answer. Cora waved her hand in front of the coffee table and a whole tray appeared with coffee and tea, sugar and milk. 

    I had always despised when Cora used magic when I was younger. She knew that and never forgot it. She liked to show she was on top and in charge. I could feel the frustration starting to slowly burn in me. Yet there was a part of me that was happy to see her that actually missed her. I hadn’t seen her in years. I had told myself I would never see her again because I knew if I let her stay things wouldn’t end well and she would have her way with me. I guess I always wanted her love and approval and she knew it. 

    Cora poured herself a cup of coffee and sipped it slowly. She leaned back in her chair and smiled down at her cup. 

    “So Regina, tell me what have you been up to? Where is Henry?” She asked. 

    “Henry is somewhere, I wont say where I dont want you messing him up like you did me” the frustration started to win over my happiness. Memories of a childhood where Cora had played with my emotions and used me flooded in the front of my mind. 

    “Who says I messed you up darling. I was only loving you like a good mother should” I grinded my teeth at that. She loved me in a way mothers never should. Cora put down her coffee cup on the table and sat down next to me on the couch. She cupped my head in her hands and stroaked my hair. She looked into my eyes

    “I never meant to mess you up Regina and I’m sorry if I did. I just love you so much and I want whats best for you” She tilted her head slightly and kissed me. I fell into the kiss and opened my mouth to her toung. She inserted her toung and I sucked on it slightly. I missed my mothers love. I didn’t miss this but I missed my mother caring for me and being a mother. I shouldn’t have let her get to me. I tried to pull away but she pushed me down onto the couch and got on top. After a while she pulled her mouth off mine. 

    “Mommy….” I breathed heavily. Every time  I was with her I resorted back to that childlike state wanting her approval and loving so bad after all the times she was so mean and all the times she was emotionally distant. Her hand went in my pants and a finger ever so slightly grazed my clit but it was enough to send a shiver down my spine and a moan to escape my lips. Cora smirked. 

    “Did you miss me?” 

    “Yes mommy” I nodded. My hand went out and into her jumpsuit carressing her breasts. She pulled her top down and let out her breast. With my mouth I latched onto her nipple and started sucking. 

    “mmmm Thats it! That’s my good girl” Cora said. I smiled when she called me her good girl. She rarely if ever said that. Cora’s fingers went into my pussy and i gasped and moaned. she moved her fingers in and out rythmcally. My hips thrusted matching her rythm. Pretty soon I was getting close. 

    “I can feel it you are close. Tell me who you belong to?”

    “Yo...o...u..mommy….” I stammered inbetween labored breaths and moans. I could feel my whole body getting warmer sweat dripping. My whole body shook as I came hard against Cora’s fingers. My legs shaked and I moaned hard. As I came down from my orgasm, Cora kissed me. I felt drained and exhausted. I closed my eyes. 

    “Thats it baby just go to sleep mommys got you” I fell asleep in my mothers arms. 

            *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

I woke up slowy and streached my arms. I had a blianket around me and I was still laying on the couch. Across the room Cora sat wearing her hair down flowing past her shoulders and wearing a red bathrobe. She had her legs crossed revealing her long smooth legs.

    “Good morning” She said looking up from her cup of coffee and book she was reading. “You slept well” Cora winked at me. The light was shining brightly in through the window and it illuminated Coras face and her sharp features. Her high cheekbones and long nose yet rounded face with baby smooth skin. Magic will get you that. I sat up groggily. Was this really happening? No way Cora was here in my living room so casual. I couldn’t have let that happen. Then I remembered I did let it happen. I couldn’t resist my mother and her touch and her praises. I can’t do this again I can’t go on with this. It will just be like when I was young going down the same cycles: get hurt by my mother by my mean nasty mother, then soothed and loved and made to feel special then hurt again. 

    “Mother you must go and leave now. What happened last night shouldn’t have happened. I should have never let you play me” I said sternly. Yet Cora made no motion to leave. She stayed sitting contently and sipped her coffee. She laughed a little.

    “Oh contrair Regina my sweet daughter I did not play you I felt it last night and you did too. You enjoyed it.” She got up and walked over and sat next to me. Cora put a hand on my thigh. I felt a warmpth develop in my stomach and a tingling sensation in my nether regions as she slid her hand up farther to rest on my inner thigh. 

    “I know you’ve missed this so much. I know I have. I’ve changed. It’ll be different, nothing like when you were younger.” she grazed my pussy through my pants with her hand. I closed my eyes and shuttered. Cora pulled up her hand and grased her thumb on my lips. I opened my mouth and took the tip of her thumb in my mouth. She pulled the thumb out and slid it down my lip and chin. I opened my eyes and she smirked at me. Cora got up off the couch and upstairs to get dressed. I couldn’t believe Cora had made me feel like that. Had made me feel so good. I should be cutting her out and making sure she left. Nothing good came of this relationship. Maybe the words Cora said were true. Maybe she has changed and it will be nothing like when I was young. It was hard to believe though, but I wanted my mother, I always dreamed of having my mother be there for me, doing normal mom stuff with her. Maybe this was time to change that. 

    I was feeling hungry so I went into the kitchen and started making some pancakes and bacon. I could hear Cora come in and she hugged me from behind pressing into me. “You are really cooking that? You know you could just use magic”

    “Much more satisfying this way”

    “You could live much easier with it” She said. I had always hated magic ever since I was young. I associated it with everything bad that happened in the family. I pulled away from Cora and put the food on the plates. 

We sat down at the table and ate our breakfast. 

    “Mmm these are so good!” Cora said in between bites of pancake. “No wonder you don’t use magic to cook with” Hearing praise coming from her mother made me smile. Cora rarely ever praised me. 

    “Thank you mother” I said. During breakfast we had a lovely conversation. Cora asked about me, how I was doing and what I had been up to. I shared that I was still the mayor of this town storybrook but with a much fairer and just way. I had lifted the curse on the town and let people live freely. Cora was glad to hear about that. She asked about Henry but I dodged that question. I didn’t want her to put a hand on Henry, not till I was sure she had really changed. 

    After breakfast we had a lovely day and even went out for a stroll. On our walk we ate ice cream on the bench in the park overlooking the sea. It was so nice to sit there with Cora have pleasant conversations and just enjoy each others company. We stayed out almost all day, and then came home and had some of Granny’s Diner Food at home. 

    “This food is so good. Very homemade. Never could you get such good food with magic. Maybe you should teach me how to cook” Cora asking me to teach her something. That was a first. I said that I would be delighted to. After dinner we ended up watching some tv. I was still pretty tired so I turned in early.

    In my room I sat in my bed and thought. The day had been so nice, and it seemed like Cora was turning over a new leaf. Maybe she has changed like she said she has. Yet there was a part of my brain the nagging part that said don’t trust it its only been one day look what happened last night. Yes what had happened last night. It shouldn’t have happened. I should have fought back harder and resisted, demanded Cora go home then and there. Her touch, I hadn’t felt anyone touch me in years. I shouldn’t have felt the wetness I did when Cora touched me, touched my sex like she did. Sucking her breast feeling the hard nipple in my mouth, now I was just remembering what happened last night. I found that my hand was in my pants and I was softly rubbing my clit. I let my feelings of arousal take over for a moment as I closed my eyes and let out a soft moan.

“Mommy….” after that I heard a voice. It made me opened my eyes and my brain jolted back to the moment. There in the doorway was Cora. She was leaning against the door frame. 

    “What are you doing?” She asked. I hadn’t realised that I had spoken out loud.

    “Nnn.nn..nothing” I stammered.  I felt immediately guilty, and removed my hand at once from inside my pants. I felt like a little kid being caught by Cora again, and bracing myself for the punishment.. Cora walked over sat on the edge of the bed. 

    “You called Mommy. You think about me often?” She smirked and lifted my shirt up moving her hand down my stomach. It gave me a warm feeling all through my body and I felt my pussy aching. 

    “We musn’t mother please don’t do this” I put my hand on her wrist and tried to turn my body away from hers. She grabbed my arms and pinned them above my head. I was struggling not only because I didn’t want it but because I knew that’s what Cora liked. My need to be touched to be loved by my own mother again after all these years. I gave in to my need to submit, to please, and please my own mother and stopped fighting it. 

    “I liked it better when you call me mommy” She said in my ear and she bit on it softly. My body arched backwards I was starved for touch, for love, to feel needed. My mother pressed against me. I could feel a bulge in her pants. I took my hand and touched it. 

“Mommy is that?….”  I asked half knowing, half not wanting to know. 

“Yes it is darling.” She said. She had used magic to give herself a dick. She pulled down her pants and I could see it throbbing, bobbing up and down. A thick vein ran down the shaft. She had given herself a really nice one. Momentary terror flodded me as I remembered when she had last used one on me. It was on my 18th birthday back when she was queen of the magical land and we lived not in the real world but in the fairytale land. I had never taken one before, and mother wasn’t very gentil. 

It was my 18th birthday today. We had had a grand celebration in the castle, inviting everybody from far and wide. Of course Cora had to make herself the center of the attention, being the queen it wasn’t hard but she made sure I knew it, stealing the spotlight from me. I had sat back and watched, half bored. It was mostly a party for herself. When the party was over I was so relieved to go back to my room and be by myself. But Mother had other plans. I hoped she hadn’t figured out about the stable boy Daniel and I. She would be furious and likely kill me. She always said I belonged only to her, something that I hated. I stood there in the bedroom, in front of the chair where she sat. My hands started to sweat a little. 

“Yes mother, you called me?” I asked timidly. Cora was wearing a floor length elegant red dress and long white gloves that reached to her elbows. 

“Yes my daughter. I have something for you a present of sorts.” She smirked at that. She waved her hand and I was laying on the bed naked. I hated when she used magic like that. She stood up and slowly took off her dress making sure to caress every curve and part of her body. I wasn’t ready for the part of her body in between her legs. It was a very thick cock and balls. It was long and already hard. I was scared. I had never taken one before. 

“Yes I gave myself a cock. This is your present. It is your 18th birthday and soon you will have to find a husband, you are a princess, and need to be experienced. With having a husband you have to know how to please him. That’s all men really want if you please him right then you win his heart.” I gulped a little my throat dry.

“Please don’t! mother please! I’ll do anything please!” I begged. I knew that my begging and protesting was falling on deaf ears though. Mother always did what she wanted and got what she wanted. The next second she was right next to me, a hand on my neck. It felt painful but I could also feel myself getting a little wet. I tried to shrink my body inwards will myself to not feel this way. Her cock was now inches from my face the tip leaking precum. She let go of my neck. Now suck it baby take the tip in your mouth. She shoved the tip at my lips. I tried to keep them closed to turn my head but I couldn’t. My head was bound in place by magic and my mouth opened because of magic too. I took the tip in my mouth and sucked it swirling my toung around it. Cora moaned. I went further down on the cock. It was certainly bigger than Daniel but tasted so much better. I moved my mouth down further. Cora looked at me. She looked at me with knowing eyes. She shoved the whole thing down my throat. 

“You are good at this. Who have you been seeing behind my back? Answer me!” I gagged around her cock and she pulled off. I gasped for air, my lungs desperately sucking up all the air it could get. 

“I said answer me! I told you you belong to me and no one else! Who have you been seeing?!” I could see the fire behind her eyes. I didn’t want her to hurt Daniel. I couldn’t tell her who it was. Daniel was the only person I had been with besides mother. She smacked my breasts hard and twisted my hard nipples. 

“Tell me who it is, or” She took a finger and ever so slightly rubbed my clit. “You dont get any of mommy tonight” As much as I didn’t want mother to hurt me, and wanted mother my body betrayed me. I wanted so much to please mother to give her what she wanted. I let out a y gasp and arched my back. Cora laughed a little. 

“So desperate for me, are you” She said. I pressed her finger down harder on my clit. Cora drew back her hand. 

“Not so fast, tell me who it is first” I didn’t want to give up Daniel but my body needed this needed mothers love. This was the only time I ever got any loving from mother. 

“Daniel..” I said at last in a whisper. 

“The stable boy!” Cora said in disbelief. “He is beneath you you are a princess, don’t ruin the family like that.” She said. “Tell me what did you do with him? Just suck him” Cora took her cock and put the tip in me. “Did he do this to you?” She said thrusting it all the way in me. I screamed in pain as she entered me and broke my sex for the first time. 

“No he didn’t. I’m glad. I get to break you in, make you ready for a husband. A real royal not a pathetic stable boy.” She thrusted inside me. I groaned from the pain but it got mixed with pleasure. Cora rubbed my clit and my body betrayed me cumming hard against her cock. 

The next day I woke up and I was so sore. Mother said she had something to help. I went into the bathroom and I saw a bubble bath drawn. Mother came up behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist and nusled her head into my neck kissing it. That gave me shivers down my back. I turned my head to the side on reflex. A little moan escaped my lips. 

“I think a nice bubble bath will help sooth the aches.” The bath did seem really nice right about now. I pulled away from Cora. I shouldn’t be drawn back into her. Before I could take another step Cora used her magic and I was naked. I hated when Cora did that. She took my hand and lead me to the bath. I stepped in and sank in. All my muscles were relieved, and I could feel them relaxing. 

    “Ok mother let me take my bath now” I said hoping maybe she would actually leave. To my suprise she actually got up and started to leave. 

“Have a nice bath honey I’ll just be reading downstairs” And she kissed me and grased her finger around my tits and then left. Her touch lingered on me and as much as I hated to admit it I wanted more. Her teasing was getting to me. I tried to close my eyes and think about something else. To think about something other than Cora. Yet I was pulled into another memory. Memories of baths like this one that Cora would draw for me when it was my time of the month. I sank back into the memory of the first time, and the first time she ever touched me.

I had gotten done riding my new horse and put him away in the stable. I leasurly made my way inside taking my time to admire the scenery and the flowers. The birds chirrped in the trees and the flowers and grass swayed in the wind. It had felt so good to finally have a horse of my own. I took my time dreading going back to the castle. I’m sure mother would find something to punish me for like she always does. As I walked back into the castle I felt a wetness down there. It was a huge wetness, and my underwear were so wet. I ran into the bathroom and pulled down my pants. It was blood. I was shocked and scared. Why was I bleeding down there? Did I hit myself while riding the horse. I tried to wipe it away but that did no good. I decided to walk up and ask my mother. I walked along the castle hallways fast, making my way down to her bedroom. I opened it and there she was taking a nap. I knew I mustnt bother her but this was important. 

“Mother! Help! I’m bleeding!” I said as I stood there in the doorway. Cora shot up out of bed and rushed over to me. 

“You are bleeding? Where?!” She asked concern on her face. My face turned bright red. I didn’t want to say. I just stood there. 

“Where?” She started to pull up my sleeves to look at me. When I didn’t say anything she finally put together why I wasn’t saying. 

“You are bleeding down there aren’t you?” I just nodded. She hugged me and pulled me close. She then pulled away and put her hands around my shoulders. 

“Why?” I said timmidly. 

“You are becoming a woman now” She said. My stomach started to hurt badly. I guess I hadn’t noticed it till now. 

“My stomach hurts badly” I said. 

“It’s just cramps. It comes with it. They will go away eventually” Cora stood there thinking. Finally she said “I know what will make you feel better! How about a nice hot bath” She took my hand and led me into the bathroom. She drew the bath.

“You have to take off your clothes to get in th bath” She said. I didn’t want to take of my clothes in front of her. I was embarrassed. My face got red again.

“Not like I haven’t seen it before” Cora said and laughed a little. She helped me take off my clothes reluctant as I was. I could feel her hands lingering near my breasts, my very small just starting to grow breasts. Her hands then lingered down over my inner thigh as she slowly took off my pants and underwear. When I was completely undressed I got in the bath.  It felt so good, my aches and cramps felt much better. 

“That feels much better mother” I said. 

“Let me help wash you” She said. I started to protest saying I was grown enough to do it myself but stopped myself. There was no arguing with Cora, not unless you wanted to face her wrath. She took the soap and rubbed it up my arms and down my shoulders. She rubbed it down my neck and then on my chest. Her hands rubbed on my breasts. It felt good but wrong too.

“Mother what are you doing? That feels wrong” I said trying to move away. 

“It’s ok baby mommy just trying to wash you and help you. You are becoming such a good young woman” She stared me up and down. Her touch lingered further down and crept up my thighs. I could feel myself get wet down there but a different sort of wet I hadn’t felt before. My body shivered and I closed my eyes. I could feel her fingers slowly touch me down there. I froze. This cannot be happening. She is my own mother. 

“Mother! What are you doing? Please stop this is wrong!” I said.

“Shhh! Honey its ok this will help your cramps feel better and you are a woman now must feel the pleasures.” She stuck her finger in me and my body tensed up. 

“Oh you are already wet” She smirked at me. “You like this” She said. She kissed me and I opened my mouth and let her toung in. I moaned a little. No I couldn’t be liking this its wrong. 

“Its ok honey I love you and this is what women do with each other. Now that you are a woman we can do this with each other. I’m just your mother.” She soothed me. She had said I love you. I hadn’t heard that from her in a long time. Plus this was better than getting punished and feeling her wrath. I relaxed as she put another finger in stretching my tight pussy open. I moaned as she thrust back and forth with her fingers. My pussy felt so full. I could feel myself on edge bulding up. 

Cora got in the bath. She got in the bath and pushed me up so I was standing. She moved her head closer to my pussy. I could feel her breath on my pussy and I closed my eyes. She took my clit in her mouth and gently sucked. It sent me into over drive and my legs tensed up. I moaned leaning my head back. Her fingers worked inside me as she sucked my clit. I could feel myself get on edge and then I felt the feeling overwhelm me and my heart raced faster and faster. 

“Say it say how much you love mommys touch” 

“I love mommys touch OHHHH” I moaned. Cora stopped and pulled out her fingers and came up and kissed me. She stuck her fingers coated in my blood in her mouth and sucked them. 

“You taste so good mmm” She moaned. 

“That felt good but what just happened?” I asked. 

“That was an orgasm. It happens when your body has so much pleasure and feels so good.” She kissed me. 

“I liked it” I said. I also liked her being nice to me for a change. 

[ewutai]

Pour | Johnny

⨯ summary: he’s mysterious and his eyes drive you to another reality. his words sound like magic and, in the end, you are completely amused by him.

⨯ Genre: angst   | vampire!au

⨯ Word count: 1 680

⨯ Pairing: Johnny Seo / Reader

⨯ a/n: yeah i took too long to post and i know it. i had to weeks filled with college exams so dont judge me. it’s shor but i promise you it’s not bad. hope yall like it (if you do, maybe i’ll write a pt2)

⨯ warning: mentions of blood.

From all eyes she’d seen before his were the most terrifying; they sparkled like the stars at the same time that a wave of uncontrollable anger took sight; it seemed he’d been waiting too long for something that would not happen. She was used to seeing too many things at the same time, in an ambient smelling smoke and alcohol, bodies dancing to melodies she didn’t even enjoy. He looked at her, once or twice, while she was, concomitantly, looking at him. The mand had no expression on his features, but she could feel a wave of emotions surrounding her body.

He walked out of the room without looking back nor finishing his drink; he left an amount of money, sufficient to pay all he’d consumed. When there’s no sign of his presence (nor aura), the girl directed herself to where he was before and took the money, counting and putting some in her own pockets. The feeling she had was that the money was cursed.

On the next day, her shift started a little earlier. She had a black dress on, with her apron tie pressing against her back, as tight it could be; it looked sensual, and she received some malicious winks while she walked to the balcony. For her, this was quite common, and with some time she even got used to the little talks and whispers about her breasts and how beautiful the color of her skin was – nonetheless she felt no comfort in those words. Few people were hanging around, just softly moving to the beat, while wanting for their cocktails. She rushed and prepared all drinks, moving her hands so talented and naturally that it felt she was doing some sort of magic.

He was already there, though. He saw it all. He felt it all. The eyes looking at her, those dirty mouths spelling disgusting words about her loveliness; a nostalgic feeling took all his being and he started to notice that anger coming back and fill his chest. She was immaculate, so pure and beautiful! How could they be so disrespectful? He sighed. Above all the hate, he was in pain. She seemed so real, yet so distant.

“May I get you something?” she said, her voice low and shy.

“A dose of whiskey.”

His words were dry and surly, nothing else. He starred at her figure, moving around so delicately, holding glasses and bottles with mastery and pouring the liquids with such care. It made him giggle, a little, imagining that she was so sweet and delightful at most simple tasks. He remembered the girl once he fell in love, a long time ago, and physically she looked the same as the barmaid; they even had the same eyebrow arching. In ancient centuries women like her would never take such positions, he thought, because she looks too enchanting to be in a place like this. She came with his squared glass, partially full of a light brown fluid.

“Enjoy.” she said with a soft voice and kind smile. He considered himself dead after she vanished into the crowd. If being dead was even possible to someone like him.

The man looked down at his glass and he could feel nothing but disgust. Alcohol, food, and even water were nothing to him – that is why he filled his mouth to whiskey and headed to the bathroom, where he spitted it all inside the toilet. It tastes like shit, he thought.

The girl, on the other hand, was completely absorbed by her own speculations. That man, the whiskey guy, was so odd and so interesting! She walked all around the club, went back to the bar, prepared a great number of drinks, and still the only thing she could think of was him. He disappeared right after she gave him the drink and until that moment – let’s say she counted around forty minutes – he was still missing.

She got used to observing him and all his movements, so the girl knew he was not the kind of man who would play around, nor the kind of guy who goes to clubs just to get some girls. He was mysterious and reserved.

“It must be a burden.” A deep – but still soft – voice brought the girl back to reality. The man she was thinking of was now right in front of her.

“Sorry?”

“It must be awful…” he paused a little. It seemed he was trying to find the right words. “Awful to listen to all these same songs every night.” He kindly smiled.

“Well, you tell me.” She smiled back. “You come here very often.”

He giggled. The sound of his laugh was so pleasing and, she thought, kind of enchanting. She could listen to it thousands and thousands of times and she would not get annoyed at all.

“Yes, indeed I do.”

“May I know why this club amuses you so much?” She asked, and that was the first time his face showed a vestige of an emotion – embarrassment, maybe.

“This club does not amuse me at all.” He answered and looked around. The man took a long pause before saying: “You do.”

Her heart pounded faster and she felt an enormous heat reaching all parts of her body; her veins burned and her breath became heavier and heavier. What is it?, she asked herself. The girl had been with other men before, she’d listened to many other teasing phrases before, but this time her being reacted in a way she never expected to happen. The man, though, watched the scene amused by her attitude – he knew she was feeling it because he could feel her veins, but she wasn’t showing much of her confusion.

“I did not expect that answer.” She finally said.

“I know.” He smiled. “I didn’t mean to make it all awkward.”

“You did not!” The girl fastly replied, giving him no time to think or even say more words. “Um, what’s your name? I don’t think I’ve ever asked you that.”

“We have never really talked, have we?” He laughed once more and she smiled at the sound. “I am Johhny Seo, and you don’t have to tell me your name because I already know it.”

She asked him how, and then Johnny Seo, the whiskey guy, started telling her that since the first day he stepped inside that club his eyes landed on her and he could not think about anything else. If any man said that she would probably tell them to leave, or stop bothering, or even no answer at all and just smile sarcastically; the girl was used to those kinds of comments and could not stand them anymore. But coming from him it was completely different. He spoke her language, he said terms she could perfectly understand, and yet it was like a spell, driving her directly to the most promiscuous feelings and desires – her attention was all his.

He accompanied her from start to end of her sift, patiently waiting for her to be free. Johnny asked her if she would enjoy a walk, even if it was just to take her home, and she had no way to disagree. The way all those things were happening was very unpredictable because in any way she’d accept the company of a stranger, mainly a man. Nevertheless, Johnny Seo had this amazing aura that made the girl feel protect and safe, and she knew, somehow, he’d never hurt her – unless she agreed to it.

They wandered in the streets, passing by coffee houses and flower shops, and Johnny would, here and then, tell her curious facts about how the grains of coffee were milled in ancient ages, or what kind of plant could grow in a not-so-very rich soil. It wasn’t exactly interesting for her, but listening to him was so pleasant that the girl didn’t even mind. Then they walked for a great amount of time until they reached her apartment and, in the next moment (and she could not tell when that happened, nor if she even noticed), they were both shirtless in her bedroom.

Johnny Seo had this great and detailed body, where she could run her fingertips and feel all his skin, flesh and bones. He was cold, but she didn’t care.

“I want your blood.” He whispered in her ears.

“You can have it.” She answered. The man stepped back and looked right into her eyes.

“No. I want you to genuinely let me have it.” He put his shirt on again. “I am not able to please you now, and I truly admire your beauty and force. But I need your blood, and you allowed me in your home. I could do it if I wanted to, but what I really want is your concession. There is no spell over you right now. Will you let me?”

She realized then he wasn’t exactly a man; whatever it was, she was just a meal. Even though, the girl had her eyes over him, running all his form, she felt his disgrace, and then she ended up relenting to him. Whatever he was, he needed (and somehow chose) her; yet she was enormously afraid, some compassion emerged and all she said was:

“I said you can have it.”

Johhny smiled and thanked her. He went to her kitchen and grabbed a glass – not so big, but one which could contain a substantial amount of liquid.

“I promise you I’ll come back. The day is rising and I can’t stay longer, so I promise you that you’ll see me again, and then I’ll please you completely.” She smiled, not sure if she really believed him; Johnny completed: “Give me your wrist.”

She did what he asked. The man scratched down her soft skin with his long and pointy nails, and then a small dilaceration appeared on her arm; the blood started to come out and spreading all over her hand and epidermis. He deeply breathed in and handed her the glass; then he asked, with the softest voice:

“Pour in.”

[bleufrost]

Can I please request a h/c for Keanu/F!reader, where she is pregnant and how they manage that at different stages and their life in the public eye/public events etc. Thanks so much, I love your work! 💙

Keanu Reeves x Reader: Your Road to Her (pregnancy)

masterlist

a/n: I hope you like this lovely! I focused more on the stages because I genuinely feel like Keanu wouldn’t be the type of guy to allow for the public to get too involved in something so important for him. He seems really protective of his privacy and a baby would tenfold that in my mind, i hope thats okay with you!

**i also want to apologize, i thought i had this queued for a week ago and didnt notice it never went up :(

warnings: pregnancy, mentions of miscarriage (this is fluff tho dont worry!) 

From the moment you and Keanu find out the news, he’s ready and willing to do whatever it is you need. At first there aren’t many signs that the baby is even growing in your tummy, you almost get worried at the lack of morning sickness and cravings. Keanu is always there to reassure you that everything is okay though. 

He takes you to doctor appointments constantly the first month of your pregnancy. The first few are your idea, wanting to do everything right and keep track of the little one. The next seemingly hundred are definitely his idea. He is way more nervous than you are, but he does his best to not let it show through. You need someone to be a rock, and who better than the father? 

If the first month was almost completely normal, the second brings forth hell. There’s a constant feeling of nausea and fatigue radiating through you. Every little thing and smell causes your stomach to churn. Keanu tries at least a thousand different recipes to find something you can keep down, but nothing really works. At the very least, it’s still easy to go out in public and only be put in tabloids for grabbing coffee with your boyfriend. You aren’t quite showing yet and you enjoy not having to hide your baby from prying eyes for the moment.

The third month gets a little easier than the second physically. Mentally is a different story. There was a panic in your mind that you hadn't shared with Keanu the first two months, but in this third you almost feel as if you have to. 

Miscarriage typically occurs within the first trimester of pregnancy and you're so close to getting out of that, but you can't do it alone. 

"I'm scared I might lose the baby." You say it one day after your emotions catch up to you. Keanu finds you a sobbing mess on the floor of the bedroom when he comes home one day. His heart thuds in his chest when he catches sight of you in pain and he worries instantly that something terrible must have occurred. 

"What is it? What happened?" His hands come up to cup your face and he wipes your tears away gently. You shake your head, tears still falling, and he wraps you in his arms. You're safe here. The baby's safe here. Everything is okay as long as you don't have to leave. Eventually of course, you do have to. 

The fourth month leads to the second trimester, and the second trimester means new discomforts. Finally able to eat again, you discover that you really don't have any boundaries when it comes to what you'll happily consume. When one moment you couldn't keep anything he made down, now you were becoming a guinea pig for every new baked good and meal that Keanu feels like testing out. One time you even accidentally eat something that may or may not have been for people, but that's not something you want to think about. 

The random food only fuels the inevitable heart burn and constipation you get though. A large part of you feels gross for the way your body reacts to the pregnancy, but Keanu reassures you time and time again that he finds you to be nothing but gorgeous. 

Now it's not so easy to hide. You both spoke about being in the public eye the first week of your pregnancy. It was a mutual agreement that you really didn't want to be photographed while carrying your baby. There was so little privacy already, your child doesn't deserve to be exposed to the world before they're even able to open their eyes. You stop going out places with Keanu as much, and when you do go out, you're both heavily covered. 

Months five and six are miracles. One night, while Keanu is sitting and reading to you, you feel it. 

"Oh my god." Your hands fly to your belly and you can't stop staring. Keanu drops the book and stares at you with wide eyes. "What's wrong?" You look to him and laugh in both delight and confusion. Without saying anything you grab his hands and place them down so he can feel. It takes a moment, but then it happens again: the small little kicks of your baby as they remind you that they're here and excited and just can't wait to meet you guys. Both of you cry that night, anticipation and joy radiates between the both of you and you know this is exactly where you're meant to be. 

The seventh and eighth months get a little difficult again. News outlets have caught on to the fact that you're carrying and they truly are relentless in their endeavor to get a peek at your baby bump and confirm suspicions.

In a few interviews Keanu is asked to comment on his feelings toward the pregnancy, but he gently declines each time. He hates disappointing people, but you and the baby mean way more to him than any fan or public image

One night an interviewer pushes a little too far. Keanu was near ready to leave the set altogether, angry that someone would so easily ignore his requests for privacy. Luckily, he was able to calm himself down pretty quickly with one thought of you watching at home. Once more, he smiles and declines the questions. 

By the time the eighth month is closing and the ninth beginning, Keanu has gotten into a rhythm of rubbing your feet and back almost daily. The extra weight puts a strain on your joints and it sometimes feels like you're lifting heavy dumbbells every time you move. He's very patient and gentle as he always is, but now he watches every move you make with uncertainty. It's about this time that going into labor can be unpredictable and he desperately needs to be ready for anything. 

With great hesitation, he takes on a new role at this time. He received the script in the mail a few weeks earlier and was ready to decline immediately, but you wanted him to take it. It would help him get his mind on something else and relax. Besides, hearing him research the role and practice lines soothes you in a way that you could never describe.

You laugh the most at this time. The baby can hear their daddy speaking. His animated voice lights up the room and Keanu can always tell when the baby is responding by the giggles that leave your mouth. His heart beats faster at the thought of his child already being so happy with you guys. It calms any nerves he has about his new role as daddy.

There's bags ready and packed by the door for weeks. Keanu sleeps with a protective hand over the baby and the other wrapped around you tight. He wants to feel if anything happens and sleeping this way comforts him and puts his mind at ease because he knows that if you or the baby stirs, he'll feel it. 

It happens one day in the kitchen. You're sitting on a chair by the counter that Keanu had pulled up so you could be with him comfortably while he cooked. The two of you are laughing over a playful argument you were having on how much spice to put into the dish when you feel something wet. 

Your laugh stops suddenly and your cheeks blush with intense embarrassment, but you just sigh and move to get up. Wetting yourself is humiliating, but you know the man standing before you would never make you feel bad for something you can't control. 

He spots the wet floor and instantly his eyes light up. "Can you help me clean this please? I'm sorry." Keanu bolts over to help you stand. He shakes his head in shock and starts leading you over to the front door. "Babe, I need to go change and clean up the mess, where are we going?" 

He laughs in confusion and slight panic, leaving you by the door and grabbing his keys. From the kitchen you hear him call, "Sweetheart, I'm pretty sure that was your water breaking!" You look down in disbelief, surely you would know if that was your water breaking...right? 

A jolt of pain knocks any thoughts out of your head and all you can do is breathe until he gets back to help you. 

All the way to the hospital, Keanu is guiding you through the periodic pains that plague you. Sometimes it doesn't hurt as badly, but then a new wave will wash over you and leave you gasping for air.

The actual hospital arrival is a blur. One moment you see him rushing to check in, the next you can feel yourself being wheeled down a hall. You think you pass out for a moment, but can't be sure. All you know is that you're now in a room being told to breathe deeply. The contractions are not yet close enough together to initiate anything, so you just have to stay as calm as possible.

There isn't a second in your confusion that he isn't there by your side. You can tell he's scared by the way his eyebrows knit together and his hands tremble, yet his smile still lights up the room and his voice brings you down from the discomfort. He reads to you until you feel as though the waves are no longer coming one at a time. They all feel like they're happening at once and he instantly calls for a doctor.

Giving birth is agonizing. The exertion compares to nothing you've ever felt before and you can feel an endless flow of tears stream down your cheeks as you continue to get told to breathe, push, relax, push again, breathe…

Your eyes lock with his, hand reaching out for the strong grip you always seek for support and he wraps it around yours with no hesitation. Unlike most stories you'd heard, Keanu isn't panicking or on the verge of passing out. He's always been highly attuned to both life and death, and as much as he hates seeing you in pain, he knows that this is a fleeting moment that will lead to the most beautiful child both of you have ever seen. Your pain destroys him, but your love and willingness to endure it builds him back up even stronger than he was before. Just one look into his beautiful, deep eyes gives you strength to keep going, so you do. 

As soon as your screams die down, a new one begins. It is by far the most lovely noise that has ever graced your ears, and although you knew it would keep you both up for months, you wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. The nurses clean the baby off just a bit, the real bath could wait. Right now you both need to hold the little one just as much as you need to breathe. 

You are given her first. She is gently placed into your arms and your lip trembles as you can't stop the onslaught of tears that overflow your eyes. She is stunning. Nothing in life could have ever prepared you for just how gorgeous this tiny little baby would be. Her eyes weren't open, but you knew that one look into them would make you gladly give up the world for her. 

In that moment, Keanu feels as though his lungs give out. Nothing matters outside of this hospital room right now and he feels no need to be anywhere else but here. His arm remains where it has been the whole time, protectively holding you. The other, though, is free. He has a strong urge to protect the little girl. His shaky hand comes over to brush the soft hair on her head. As soon as he feels her delicate little head under his fingertips, his heart swells and he lets the tears fall down. 

The little bundle of joy was safe and warm and oh so loved. When the nurses came in, they found the three of you asleep. Keanu held you protectively in his arms, a hand still gently petting the baby's head. Your arms were holding your little angel as your head leaned against his strong chest, finally getting some rest after your long journey to get to the little girl that now felt like home. 

[buginateacup]

So I finally figured out the best way for me to plot Rings is to write it out like I did before ie like you;re telling a rapid story/juicy gossip which stops me from writing the same scene in different angst/fluff/horny versions

so spoilers for the next few chapters under the cut if you’re interested

So the first night of the honeymoon is...fine. They spend most of it laughing over whatever the fuck was today and agree that staying married is really not an option. Megamind has conveniently forgotten that he agreed to be a superhero and Roxanne winds up laughing in Megamind's arms as he proves that he can in fact dance like Fred Astaire on the balcony of their suite. Its a remarkably fun night all things considered until Roxanne goes to push open the door to what she assumes is the other bedroom of the suite and finds the kind of closet that she's been dreaming of all her life and that means...

There is only one bed. Fuck

Cue panic

And Roxanne getting stuck in her dress 

help

But Megamind has also been having just a hint of a breakdown because dancing with Roxanne made him realise that oh no he's in love with his wife and he hasn't wished he was human for a long time (not true) but it does mean that she's probably not going to be okay with tentacles which is the kind of thing you should probably tell a prospective partner BEFORE you marry them so he's going to sleep on the couch far far away from temptation. And Roxanne is an absolute horny mess because she is absolutely hiding her feelings behind her libido but Megamind is being very considerate of not being THAT KIND of villain which means she feels like he doesn't want her and nothing kills desire faster than not being wanted so that’s its own problem.

Except the couch is kind of squeaky because its leather and he can't sleep and eventually Roxanne comes storming out and demands he come to bed so they can both sleep because he's keeping her awake too.

And they do.

Sleep

Just sleep

And wake up tangled together on Friday morning.

That's not awkward at all

That's also the morning they find out they have the suite for the rest of the weekend, which, delightful. Divorce can definitely wait a couple of days while they ruin Wayne's credit rating. There may be a bit of a moment where Megamind catches Roxanne trying on his mantle over her pjs that will either be incredibly angsty or incredibly hot but that that is not part of the plan we're just pretending that didnt happen, or it did and that is how they decide to be married for the weekend (IDK, working on it). In the mean time there are casino heists to plan and chess and scrabble to be played and evening brings Megamind back to bed with Roxanne because its just easier at this point. And when he wakes up because UNFAMILIAR in the middle of the night he plays with Roxanne's hair at her askance for an hour until they both fall asleep.

Roxanne is more than okay with having someone permanently willing to play with her hair on tap as all people should be.  

On Saturday Roxanne is awake first and spends some time thinking about how tired Megamind looks and how he should really take some time off and they can go to the beach or something after they get back. This should probably have been a clue about her feelings but hey, leave a girl her river in egypt.

This may or may not be the day she also glues him to the headboard of the bed with the decoupage setting on the de-gun while she has a shower.

Megamind genuinely considers gnawing off his own arm because she didnt quite manage to close the door properly and that is its own kind of torture.

They have a bet about paper airplanes and landing them in the fountain. Megamind wins so Roxanne has to show him a trick (Roxanne is not thinking about that thing she can do with her throat nope not at all) which is how he finds out his wife is a master at throwing cocktails and they get more than a little tipsy and he shows her how to fire the degun which is adorable and a little hot and they wind up slowdancing on the balcony to the Something for Kate cover of When the War is Over because I love that freaking song and I'm very attached to that mental image right now.

The second night, they know its all over by tomorrow and they spend a while talking in bed in the dark which is where I will probably make all of you cry with how lonely being the last one is for Megamind and it breaks Roxanne's heart a little to and they have the kind of thing that you just do not talk about in the light of day because if what happens in vegas stays in vegas then what happens that night is like the what happens in vegas stays in vegas of what happens in vegas stays in vegas.

Look it makes sense in context okay

They also both stay clothed so chill.

Sunday morning brings them to the foyer and its bittersweet and lovely and they just want to hold one another but they CANT because there is a PLAN and of course they shouldn’t stay married but oh shit the divorce desk doesn’t open until 11 and its only ten and their chauffer is waiting for them to take them home so shit, that is an issue but its fine because there's a form you can fill out and they will post you the divorce papers.

So great. They head to the airport and get on the plane and oh look there's yesterdays paper and why is there a photo of their wedding certificate on the front page?

And when was megamind going to tell Roxanne he was becoming a hero?

And Megamind had genuinely forgotten about that. Oops

So it turns out all of Metro City has been waiting for this day for YEARS. The paper is full of happy articles and letters to the editor saying we knew those crazy kids had it in them and Carlos has won a considerable amount of money in the pool and has taken his family to disney world.

And well they cant stay married obviously (can they?) but everyone is clearly expecting them to come home as a couple so sure they can fake it for a while before quietly separating except Megamind is not okay with the idea of Roxanne getting kidnapped by anyone else because no one else will be careful enough. And Roxanne is very unimpressed that the defenders council are trying to replace her with an official damsel. She is staying damsel thank you very much Gerry.

This may also become the fic where Roxanne finally sets up a damsel's union.

So they have a bit of a talk and yep practice kissing is definitely a thing they need to work on

a lot

that moment where the copilot walks in on them is a little embarrasing

but they land and oh look there's a car waiting for them to take them to

oh

The Scott's are throwing them a party after all

So Roxanne gets dressed by Minion for the second time in a week which is where she finds out that "Oh sir was always so worried that if he ever found someone the tentacles would be a dealbreaker"

Tentacles

Huh

Where?

Prehensile or?

Oh for fucks sake Roxanne you dont even know what they're for stop it

No but seriously where are they?

Megamind on the other hand has just found out that Roxanne has a tattoo from Metro Man of all people and there is a very awkward/sexy/funny moment in a butler's pantry where Megamind finds out exactly where Roxanne's tattoo is and Roxanne has it confirmed exactly what those tentacles are for after all.

Great so add that to the list of things we're thinking about like his shoulders and his hands and his eyes instead of our feelings.

Roxanne takes great solace in her libido as it is far easier than arguing with her head or her heart.

Or she would be if she was getting laid.

And SURPRISE this party is not the intimate dinner they were promised but a full on party with Megamind's prison uncles set up on a webcam in a theatre which is a lovely cute scene and Roxanne is definitely getting baby stories out of these men.

Megamind uses her as a human shield. Its force of habit and has nothing to do with how much he's blushing at all.

And they get asked to make a speech and Megamind tells everyone exactly how much he loves his wife and Roxanne is almost in tears because what the hell where was this when it was just the two of them? He cant mean any of this clearly and wow that fucking hurts.

And then Roxanne's great aunt helen shows up because of course family was invited and she is an unpleasant woman at the best of times and Roxanne goes full "Fuck off Helen he's my husband and I love him"

and 

shit

she does doesnt she?

Nope straight back to denial on that one. Cannot think about that right now

Because he clearly doesn't feel the same way or he'd have told her personally, not to a crowd of people. And Megamind thinks she was exaggerating because he’s also thinking where was this in vegas? And Roxanne is forcibly reminded she can't be the damsel if she's married to the hero so she is never going to see him again unless its for an interview which means she has to spend the rest of her life chasing him down in the van with fucking hal and ow ow ow

So they leave the party and Megamind drops her home only for Roxanne to find her apartment full of boxes as she is also being kicked out of her apartment as she is no longer acting damsel.

So she grabs a bag and tracks down the lair and oh hi husband can I live with you or not?

Hi wife yes please say (stay forever please stay forever) which is where we get the SECOND there was only one bed because half the lair was demolished in the last big battle and there is no space for another room right now and of course they have to keep sharing a room or Minion will get suspicious

this bed is much smaller than the giant orgy sized one in vegas

good thing they’re already getting used to waking up in one another’s arms

Roxanne does manage to ask for a small room to use as an office because she needs somewhere to cry and she's used to living alone but wow does this feel like moving in...

And that brings us to chapter 6ish?

[chaoswillfallrpg]

REGINA ROWLE is TWENTY-SIX YEARS OLD and an UNSPEAKABLE in THE HALL OF PROPHECY at THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC. She looks remarkably like LOGAN BROWNING and considers herself aligned with THE DEATH EATERS. She is currently OPEN. 

→ OVERVIEW:

Intelligent and curious, Regina Rowle needed to know everything about anything. Born to British Pure-Blood socialite DEMEAS ROWLE and Witch  ATIYA ROWLE Regina and her younger sister ROWENA were brought up in a loving household just outside the city of Cambridge. Their mother, an exceptional witch moved from the North West of Africa after her school years at Uagadou in order to attend one of the most prestigious universities out there, Cambridge university, it was here that she had met Demeas and they fell madly in love. The pair had a whirlwind romance and married quickly, much to the dismay of Demeas’ family, Atiya’s dreams of becoming a writer put on hold for another dream of hers, motherhood. Regina and Rowena were raised in a clash of cultures, neither parent wanting them to miss out on their European or African magical heritage. Their father would tell them stories of Hogwarts, Regina’s eyes lighting up whenever he did so, excited to get up to the same mischief that her father had. Rowena on the other hand delighted in the stories their mother told about her childhood in Africa. Despite the differences between the two sisters and the three years that separated them the sisters were inseparable, wherever Regina went Rowena would follow, not because Regina was bossy or Rowena weak willed, but more because they couldn't stand to be apart.

Being part of Pure-Blood wizarding society meant attending certain events and parties, Rowena found them rather boring and immediately wanted to leave whereas Regina enjoyed them for one reason and one reason only. Their cousins, THORFINN and CAMILLE ROWLE would always attend the same events, and although they were never introduced to one another due to a row their fathers had many years ago that only worsened with time Regina was very intrigued by her cousin Camille. The girl was a puzzle that Regina wanted to solve, she made no effort to hide her hatred for her brother and Regina’s ever present curiosity got the better of her. When the sisters were not attending parties their mother was teaching them magic, getting around the underaged magic law by using traditional African spells and methods instead of the European way of using a wand. Regina listened intently to her mother but got nowhere with the spells, she practiced in her room almost every night but quickly lost interest due to her lack of ability, hoping desperately that she would improve, secretly scared that she was a squib. Her sister thrived with her mother's guidance and there was no doubt that she had magic flowing through her veins, the family all waiting with bated breath for Regina to show some magical abilities, they finally got their wish when she picked up her mother's wand one day and accidentally turned the cat pink. 

Along with her Hogwarts letter, Regina received the news that her mother had been commissioned for a book and would be leaving for Africa the day after she boarded the train. Knowing that Rowena wanted so dearly to immerse herself in her African heritage her mother decided to bring her along, the pair living there until it was Rowena’s turn to leave for Hogwarts. Excited by the opportunity to immerse herself in to another life and to finally step out alone she took everything in her stride, made friends with the right girls, stayed away from the wrong boys, and most of all, introduced herself to her estranged cousin Camille who had already made a lasting impression on the cohort of Hogwarts despite only being in second year. She rode on the coattails of her cousin's reputation, asking Camille for help whenever she needed it. Camille was happy to do so as she wanted to leave the perfect legacy of the Rowle name behind when she left the school a year before Regina would. Camille pointed her in the direction of BRIDGETTE DE MONTMORENCY, EVORA TRAVERS and LUCINDA TALKALOT, a group of girls that held the same priorities as she did and Regina fitted in perfectly. The group would often be found pretending to study in the library whilst actually talking about anything else, quickly getting thrown out by the librarian they would laugh all the way to an unused classroom on the fifth floor that the girls had claimed as their own. When it came to actual work Regina was happy to find out that with a wand her magic worked excellently, she shone in Charms and Transfiguration and also had a special knack for Divination, a trait her mother said came from her. 

Three years into her school career her sister Rowena joined Hufflepuff and Regina got a shock when the young, naive sister that she remembered was not the girl to arrive at Hogwarts. She had changed, grown up and Regina no longer knew where she stood, she wanted terribly to be close to her again, but she also wanted to give Rowena the space that she needed to grow into her own person, the space that she herself that was given by having three years without her sister. In her final years of Hogwarts Regina and her friends grew close to WALDEN MCNAIR and WILLIAM GOYLE, a pair of Slytherin boys that brought out the more mischievous side to the group of girls. Becoming increasingly closer to Walden, the pair fell into a relationship, partly because it was what Regina thought she should do and partly to stop the expectant glances sent her way by her friends whenever she was close to him. They became exceptionally close but Regina felt the relationship was off, something was missing and never one to shy away from an awkward conversation she brought it up several months into their relationship much to Walden’s relief. They talked on the astronomy tower for hours on end, well past curfew and came to the conclusion that actually they much preferred the company of their own genders when it came to romance. Ending on good terms they became best friends and laugh about the event now. 

Leaving Hogwarts behind Regina felt free to explore her feelings fully and it could be said that she left a string of witches in her wake, always living in the moment she got as much enjoyment she could out of someone and happily moved on to the next when she was through. Working for the ministry as an Unspeakable in the hall of prophecies was a sure fire way to attract witches, the mystery that surrounded her job did her well when it came to her love life. ALEXANDRA ROSIER was a witch that fell prey to her charms, they met through her cousin Camille during one of her many visits to the magazine to gossip with her, she got introduced to Alexandra and the pair hit it off. Both on the same page the witches had an agreement of sorts, no strings attached, just fun. Working at the ministry has also brought out her childhood curiosity, except now she finds gossip about her colleagues most intriguing, she thrives in knowing about everyone's business, infact, Regina gossips so much about others that it is almost ironic that her job title is ‘unspeakable’. Her curiosity has gotten the best of her on a few occasions and has in fact made her most unliked by one RITA SKEETER who is severely annoyed over the fact that Regina can spread gossip much quicker than she can publish it.

Living with Walden in a large loft apartment in Camden town meant you could either find the pair in the bars and clubs below, drinking far too much and seeing where the night would take them or you would find them moping about the morning after strewn across their living room. The pair dont have a secret between them and it is well known amongst the two that they have a problem when it comes to their love lives, they would spend hours complaining about the unfairness of it all and would have to go on another night out to make themselves feel better. It's not that Regina didn't enjoy the single life, it was more that she was worried she would never find the person who would make her want to give it up. Her fears however dwindled slightly when after drinking far too much she tripped and fell over her far too high heels and broke her ankle, Walden, the ever perfect best friends apparated her to St Mungo’s where MARIANNE MACMILLIAN was the mediwitch who mended her leg. Regina found herself entranced by the delicate way the witch healed her, her softness overwhelming her. She found herself afterwards coming up with excuses to visit the hospital, she would pop in to visit a friend who was never there, or grab some fliers about dragon pox from the reception even though she had already had them. She did all this with the hopes of catching a glance of the witch that seemed to occupy her mind far too much lately. Not yet ready to give up on being single though Regina vowed to continue as she was and if she happened upon Marianne naturally then it was meant to be. 

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:

Blood Status → Pure-Blood, Vampire

Pronouns → She/Her

Identification → Cis Female 

Sexuality  → Homosexual 

Relationship Status → Single

Previous Education →  Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Ravenclaw)

Family → Rowena Rowle (sister), Camille Rowle (cousin), Thorfinn Rowle (cousin)

Connections  → Bridgette De Montmorency (best friend), Evora Travers (best friend), Lucinda Talkalot (best friend), Walden McNair (best friend), William Goyle (close friend), Alexandra Rosier (romantic liaison), Marianne MacMillian (potential love interest), Evangeline Selwyn (friend/colleague),  Rita Skeeter (adversary)

Future Information → N/A

REGINA ROWLE IS A LEVEL 5 VAMPIRE.