#dion could go ‘i can have this much

[milkybishop]

"- but with whom can you sit in water?"

and who can hop in the bath with you to make a show of not caring about your tattoos, and how can you not find it hard to hide your disdain at the attempt.

because either this is a trap you have blindly walked into again . . . or he really does love you and could have loved you all this time. and despite all that-

you cannot turn from the path that you are on.

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐀 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐎𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ includes: scout, soldier, medic, and spy

↳ warnings: mentions of surgery and alcohol

↳ song: runaround sue—dion

masterlist | commissions | carrd

𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐭

• He’s such a doofus. It takes him at least a month to pick up on it

• The entire time you’re flirting or making moves on him, he’ll jokingly reciprocate it under the impression that you’re just joshing around

• It takes one of the other team members approaching him for the mercenary to realize what was actually going on

• “Son.” Engineer had sighed as he stood in the doorway to Scout’s very messy room, “You do realize they like you?”

• Scout’s very dismissive and red faced about it

• “What? Psh. Stop messing with me, Engie. Don't you have sentries to build or somethin’?”

• The second Engineer leaves, he’s practically tearing up his room in a tirade of emotions

• Overthinks the past few months with you way too much. Practically wears a spot into the floor from all the nervous pacing he does

• In the end, Scout confronts you to ask you out

• Tries to be formal, but we all saw how that turned out with Miss Pauling. Eventually just gives up on trying to be suave— and not succeeding —to blurt out what he’s thinking

• “So, uh, yeah. I’m not so. Er. Good at this sappy stuff, but there’s a Tom Jones museum I think we could go check out. Together.” Scout pauses, accent only getting thicker with worry, “Alone. Y’know?”

• Over the moon when you say yes. All nerves dissipate and are immediately replaced with a cross between a smug and relieved victory

• If you look close enough at his ears, they’re a little pink

𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐫

• If he hasn’t known you for long, Soldier will actually just chalk your actions up to being a communist spy

• A very exasperated Demoman had to get Miss Pauling to bring in heavily classified paperwork on you just to prove to him you weren’t a commie

• “Very well maggot! I’ll believe you— for now! Sleep with one eye open!” Soldier had barked, slamming down your file on the dining room table as a tired Pauling watched. You noted that the papers were upside down, and you doubt he even read them. Or that he could read

• He’s very blunt with everything. Words, actions, emotions, etc. Doesn’t understand why other people can’t just do the same. It would make conversation so much easier to him

• So he’s not oblivious to your attention per se. Just very curious, I suppose

• It takes maybe less than two weeks after the Communist Incident, as Demo had dubbed it, for him to corner you

• “Maggot! Do you find me attractive?” He demanded

• You’d been eating breakfast at the time, and almost choked to death on your laughter at the question

• “Short answer, yes.” You gasped through wheezy laughter, the volume only increasing at the frown on Soldiers face. “Follow up question; is that really how you just asked if I had a crush on you?”

• Nods and booms back that he thinks you’re also easy on the eyes. Proposes the idea of doing a training course with you sometime. Breaks out into a crooked grin when you accept

• “Excellent! I expect you up at oh five hundred for the course tomorrow!” He saluted you, which was Soldier equivalent to a bone crushing hug of respect

• You returned it, and missed the way his eyes crinkled with happiness behind the brim of his helmet

𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜

• Always so consumed in his work that he probably just ends up finding out from Archemedies

• The birds had always been allowed to rest on your shoulder while he performed risqué experiments on you, acting as a distraction from the feeling of someone sifting around in your guts

• I guess the dove had picked up on one too many looks you’d tossed the ex-doctors way

• To this day, no one can understand how the two of them can communicate, but one thing leads to another and suddenly Medic is looming in your doorframe silently

• “What’s up, doc?” You’d greeted him with a Bug’s Bunny quote and a grin. Medics lips only twitched up slightly as he pushed his glasses back up the brim of his nose

• “A little bird told me zhat someone has a crush, ja?” He barreled right into the topic, leaving no room for you to prepare for the sudden accusation. Medics scrutinizing gaze didn’t miss the way your eyes glanced in the direction of his lab, no doubt silently cursing Archemedies

• “No need to fear, freund.” He unclasped his gloved hands from behind his back and approached you. “I simply am here to offer you a deal.”

• Turns out the deal was a chance talk over cheap beer in his office. Pretty rare, considering how much of his time Medic chose to dedicate to work

• “I’ll take it.” You shook his hand, briefly noting how large it seemed even when compared to you

• “Vunderbar, mein schatz.” Medic smiled gently, leaving you to wonder what he had just said

𝐒𝐩𝐲

• There is no hiding when it comes to this French fuck

• Spy immediately picks up on every glance. Every chance of avoided eye contact and unnecessary clearing of a throat

• Suddenly he seems to be a lot more talkative towards you than normal. Hanging out by your side at gatherings rather than a dark corner with cigarette smoke curling around his head

• Fleeting touches slowly begin to sprinkle themselves in between conversation. A hand on the shoulder here, and a brief touch to the pulse point there

• The first time he did the latter, he noticed how fast your heart was beating and couldn’t stop himself from letting out a slight chuckle

• If he was nicer, Spy would definitely take action and approach your first. In fact, sometimes he almost finds himself wanting to

• But the man knows how people work. If you truly wanted to pursue him, you would come around eventually. No point in making rash decisions. He was a patient man, after all

• A small part of his ego preened at the thought of making you work for it

• And come around you did eventually did

• Finds himself opening the door to his smoking room one late night only to be met with the image of a very frazzled looking you

• You rush out something about a date too fast for his ears to catch. Spy is simply too busy letting his eyes roam over your casual cloathing and slight fidgeting. The crooning of an old French record plays from behind him as he blinks down at you

• “Would you like to come in?” He finally sighs out, opening the door a little wider in the form of an invitation

• By the time you manage to get inside, you notice he already had a wine glass set out for you

[gigabyte-flare]

He Comes Alive (Part 2)

Part 1

Summary: More hikers are going missing and now one of them has been found dead, seeming having been attacked by a strange animal. Meanwhile, Leon stops by your work, giving you an offer you can't refuse.

Word Count: 3.5k

Pairing: vampire/plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Biting, blood, gore, murder, unprotected p in v, masterbation, oral (m and f receiving), stalking, pet names, kidnapping, breeding kink, blood play/kink, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT [More warnings may be added in future entries]

A quick reminder that I no longer do tag lists

You awake the next morning at around 7:00am, stretching your arms and yawning loudly before rubbing your eyes, the events of the previous night gone from your mind as you climb out of bed. You throw on your pajama pants before going downstairs, where you find both your parents now huddled in front of the TV.

“What’s going on?” you ask, standing in the threshold of the living room before stepping in to join your parents.

What you see, shocks you. It’s a breaking news report. Fish and Game had found one of the hikers, Alicia Walker, dead off of one of the Mt. Lafayette trails.

“They’re calling it an animal attack,” your father suddenly breaks the silence, “there were signs she had been attacked by some kind of animal like a bear or… a coydog. But… I’ve never heard of bears or coydogs attacking people around here.”

Your focus returns to the TV, where you watch the reporter at the Mt. Lafayette trailhead.

“Fish and Game is asking hikers to never hike alone, let friends and family know if they plan on hiking and where, as well as bring adequate protection to defend themselves against wildlife until they can find and euthanize the animal responsible for this attack. Fish and Game believes this same animal is responsible for the other missing hikers, the latest being 21 year old Nathaniel Dion of Oakvale who was last seen Monday--”

Your eyes widen at the name; you went to school with this guy. He wasn’t anyone you knew personally, but he was one of the more popular guys in your high school class. You recall he was a huge fitness junky. He was also Chief Bob’s only son; you could only begin to imagine how much this probably distressed him and his family. 

“Poor Bob and Nancy…” you hear your mother say before she abruptly walks into the kitchen, “I’m going to call them up and see if there’s anything we can do to help them, Mick.”

“Yeah, it’s the least we can do, maybe we should have them over for lunch. I’m sure they could use the company,” your father suggests before turning off the TV and joining your mother in the kitchen.

Meanwhile, you remain in the living room, staring at your reflection in the TV screen before you turn, going back upstairs to your bedroom to get dressed.

Later that day, Chief Bob and his wife Nancy do end up coming over for lunch. Your mother had made up sandwiches and fresh ice tea for everyone. Sitting at the dining table with them was unfortunately awkward, Chief Bob and Nancy were clearly distraught, understandably so. 

“He said he was doing the Lafayette, Lincoln and Liberty loop, which normally only takes him a day or two. When he didn’t come back Wednesday…” Nancy begins, wiping tears from her eyes.

“That’s when I reached out to Fish and Game to report him missing, they immediately organized a search party. That’s when they stumbled upon that other hiker, Alicia. They found her when they were looking for Nate.” Bob finished, clearing his throat as he attempted to regain his composure. 

“Is it true what they’re saying? That an animal is attacking hikers?” you interject before biting into your sandwich.

“That’s the weird part. I asked for a copy of her autopsy report. The poor girl’s throat was practically ripped out, her blood drained out of her body almost completely--”

“Bob, honey, we’re eating.” Nancy scolded.

Bob continues, paying Nancy no mind, “when I talked to the coroner that did her autopsy, he said the bite wound was unlike anything he’s ever seen. I don’t know of a single animal up here that would do that and… drain the blood out like that.”

“I can see why they’re keeping that hush-hush. We don’t need any crazy rumors that we’ve got vampires or some bull crap like that,” Mick replies with his mouth full of sandwich.

“Fish and Game is still looking for Nate, I’m praying to God he just got off trail and got himself lost. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to him,” Nancy says with a sigh, resting her hands in her lap as she stares down at her untouched sandwich. 

Your mother reaches over, putting her hand over Nancy’s, giving them a pat, “I have faith that he’s out there. Mick and I and our daughter are here for both of you if there’s anything we can do to help.”

Nancy suddenly bursts into tears, sobbing at the dining room table loudly.

Your mother looks at you, “sweetheart, can you grab the box of tissues that is sitting on my nightstand for Nancy?”

You give your mother a quick nod as you stand up from the dining room table to head upstairs to the master bedroom. So many thoughts were racing through your head, mostly about how the hiker had died. Chief Bob was right; yeah there were bears and coydogs, but nothing would or could suck a person’s blood dry like that. Shaking yourself from your thoughts, you find the box of tissues on your mother’s nightstand, right where she said it was and brought it downstairs.

You sit back down at the table but you can’t help but zone out, thinking about Nate, lost in the forest.

That evening, you get yourself ready to go to work, heading into the garage of your family’s home to get into your bright yellow 1977 Chevrolet Chevette. It was kind of a beater, but it was reliable. Your dad had made sure it was running well prior to you flying back home. You turn the key, the engine roaring to life; you turn around in your seat and slowly back out of the garage to go to work.

You hear Whitney Houston’s ‘I Wanna Dance with Somebody’ come on the radio, you turn up the volume and sing along. After a few minutes, you arrive at the gas station, parking your car on the side of the building before heading inside.

“Hey Peggy!” you call out as you walk in, walking into the back office to drop off your purse and car keys before heading up to the register.

“Hey sweetie!” Peggy replies when you come back out to relieve her from her shift, “how was your day?”

“It was ok, we had lunch with Chief Bob and his wife. I’m sure you heard his son Nate’s missing in the mountains.”

Peggy shakes her head, “I did hear about that, poor kid. I really hope they find him safe and sound. They found one of the other hikers dead, right?”

“Yeah, supposedly attacked by some kind of animal.”

“God help us…” Peggy says under her breath as she walks out from behind the register to let you in.

“Have a good night Peggy!” you say to her, seeing her off as you take up your post.

A couple hours go by, you watch as the sun sets behind the mountains. It was a slow night, so you took that opportunity to mop the floors, zoning out the roar of a motorcycle pulling into the gas station. The sound of the door chime snaps you out of your daze. You look up to greet the customer.

“Hey there, how can I help-- oh! Leon!”

Your heart immediately starts racing again upon seeing Leon. He’s wearing a blue button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows with a black vest on top and tight fitting black pants with black boots. The outfit makes him look otherworldly; simply stunning.

“Hey there, I was hoping you were working tonight,” Leon says, giving you a gentle smile.

“R-Really?” you reply as you haphazardly put your bucket and mop over in a corner, “how… can I be of assistance, Leon?”

“Well, as I’m sure you’ve heard, I bought that old house on the end of Hemlock Drive.”

“Yeah… Mr. Mason’s place, right? Oh… right… you wouldn’t know who that was…” you say, your voice trailing off. 

Leon lets out a playful chuckle before continuing, “well… I’m starting to realize I could use an extra pair of hands to help fix it up.”

“You want me to ask around to see if anyone can help?” you say, crossing your arms, shifting your weight on one foot.

“I was actually hoping I could hire you.”

Your heart jumps into your throat and your mouth hangs slightly agape as you process his words. The door chime going off again snaps you out of your shock.

“Hold that thought,” you gesture your finger at Leon as you walk behind the cash register to help the customer that walked in, a stranger passing through getting gas.

Leon stands behind the customer but off to the side, waiting for them to leave so that you two could continue your conversation. You send the customer off on their way after they pay for gas, drawing your attention back to Leon.

“So… what would I be helping you with? I don’t know much about… building stuff,” you explain, feeling your cheeks turn red.

“Oh no, nothing like that. I’d have you help with painting, cleaning, maybe nailing stuff down. Easy stuff, I promise. And I’d be paying you.”

“How much?”

Leon shrugs his shoulders, “I was thinking… $10 an hour? I’d have you do Monday through Friday from 7:00am to 3:00pm, give or take.”

$10?! you think to yourself. 

That is way over what you’re making here, which is minimum wage, “I’ll do it. I’d have to put my notice in here first.”

Leon smiles, “think you can start next Monday?”

“Absolutely!”

Leon leans forward against the counter, reaching across to give one of your shoulders a pat, “excellent! See you on Monday then.”

Leon gives you a subtle wink, turning to walk out of the gas station. You watch as he gets on his motorcycle, jumping a bit when it roars to life, your eyes remaining locked on him as he drives off. You can’t believe your luck.

Pulling up to his home at the end of Hemlock Drive, Leon parks his motorcycle out front, climbing off it before heading inside. Immediately upon entering the front door, he lets himself finally relax, taking off his vest before he works on unbuttoning his shirt. He walks into the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror as he pulls his shirt off, revealing his chiseled chest. 

Before long, dark veins begin to sprawl across his body as he rubs the knots out of the back of his neck with one of his hands, his eyes closed as he lets out a low groan. He slowly opens his eyes, his ocean blue eyes now a brilliant red; they appear to glow in the low light of the bathroom. He snarls his lips at his reflection, revealing his sharp canine teeth that have descended, licking the points with his tongue before he steps back, admiring his physique in the mirror. All the while, something deep and primal within him, at the very core of his being, begins to nag him once more, something that wouldn’t stop since he first laid eyes on the cute girl that works nights at the gas station.

Breed.

In fact, he had gotten himself so worked up that night he met her while filling his motorcycle’s gas tank that he had to go out and hunt. Smirking in the mirror, he turns, walking out of the bathroom, approaching a door in the rear of the house that was padlocked shut. He pulls his keys from his pocket, unlocking the padlock and setting it aside on a small table before opening the door. It leads to the basement, the smell of blood immediately hitting his senses, driving his hunger wild. He descends the stairs slowly, flipping on a light at the bottom that turns on a single set of fluorescent lights.

Under the light, there is a support beam that a young man is tied to, bloody, battered and his neck covered in several bite marks, with duct tape wrapped around his mouth and eyes. The young man immediately hears Leon approach, struggling as much as his weak body can against his restraints. Leon stalks over to the young man, grasping him by his chin and squeezing tightly, smirking down at him. Today he learned this imbecile is the Oakvale’s chief of police’s only son. Just his luck. It was because of this moron hiking alone that Fish and Game had found the remnants of one of his other meals looking for this idiot. He could feel his frustration boiling within him, causing him to suddenly twist the young man’s head, snapping his neck instantly.

“Whoops.”

He didn’t mean to snap the poor kid’s neck, he was hoping to enjoy him for a few more days, now he has to enjoy as much as he can before his blood starts to go stale. Opening his mouth, his fangs and mouth latch onto the dead young man’s neck, growling as he begins to feed upon him. He gets his fill, unlatching himself from the young man’s lifeless form with a gasp, breathing heavily as blood runs from his lips, dripping down his chin onto his bare chest. The young man’s body slumps forward as Leon steps back. He’s going to have to get rid of him before his cute angel starts her new “job” on Monday.

Thinking of her, his eyes flutter shut, his right hand smearing the blood that had dripped down across his chest, bringing his hand to his lips to lick off the blood. Before getting himself too worked up again, he turns around, leaving the basement, shutting off the light as he ascends back up the stairs. He goes back into the bathroom, turning on the shower. As he waits for the water to warm up, he looks at himself again in the mirror. His pupils dilate upon seeing the blood on his skin. Turning away from the mirror, he removes what’s left of his clothing and steps into the shower to clean himself up, watching as blood runs down his naked body, the blood swirling on the shower floor before going down the drain. 

His mind wanders back to his cute angel, to that night he watched her from the window while she played with herself, his own blood rushing straight to his cock. Grasping himself with his right hand, he begins to stroke himself aggressively, chasing his orgasm as he pictured his cute angel lying beneath him, her undoubtedly beautiful cunt squeezing around him. It doesn’t take long for him to climax, ropes of cum shooting out and covering his hand; some of it managed to land on the shower wall. He takes a moment to rinse his hand off as well as wipe the cum off the shower wall before turning the shower off. 

Stepping out of the shower, he grabs a towel off the rack, wrapping it around his waist as he steps out of the bathroom and heads into the master bedroom. He lays down onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling as he continues to think about his cute angel, excited about seeing her on Monday. He thought his plan was ingenious; getting her closer to him under the guise of a job. He knew luring her wouldn’t be difficult, she practically eye fucked him every time they saw each other. Still, he had to offer her pay that he knew she couldn’t refuse. Then, he could take his time courting her and before she even knows it, she’ll be his.

His Mate.

“Absolutely not,” your father says to you sternly the next morning at the table at breakfast.

“What do you mean, absolutely not? I already took the job, Dad, I’m putting in my notice tonight. He’s paying me $10 an hour! I couldn’t say no to that!”

“And have you in that house, alone with some guy we don’t even really know? I don’t think so.”

“Dad come on, he’s really nice…”

“We have plenty of retired guys in town that he could have asked.”

“Mick,” your mother tries to interject.

“For all we know, he could be some psychopath or something--”

“MICK! THAT’S ENOUGH!” your mother finally shouts at him, startling both of you.

You look over at your mother who is glaring at your father; the look on her face could have set him on fire. Your mother was always soft spoken and kind. It took a lot to get her angry, and you’ve never seen her this angry.

“In case you forgot, Mick, she is an adult. Besides, not only is that good money, that would be a good experience for her, too. Yes, we don’t really know Leon, but from the handful of times I’ve spoken to him, he seems fine. He used to work for the government for Christ’s sake. You can’t get more trustworthy than that.”

Your father lets out a loud sigh, his attention back on you, “fine… but at the first sign of trouble, you get the hell out of there, understood?”

“Of course,” you reply with a nod, taking a bite out of your breakfast, “I didn’t know he used to work for the government.”

“Heard it from one of the guys at Moe’s,” your father replies, “he was some kind of special ops agent, or something. At least that’s what I’ve heard.”

“Maybe he can figure out what’s happening to all these hikers,” your mother suddenly says, “they still haven’t found Nate.”

“Poor kid, I hope he’s alright,” your father shakes his head, finishing up his breakfast and getting up from the table, “I’ll be in the garage, I’m going to get that car finished up today even if it kills me.”

You watch your father walk out of the dining room, the unmistakable sound of the door being whipped open and slamming shut following him. You and your mother finish breakfast in silence until your mother finally speaks up.

“He just wants what’s best for you. But, he needs to understand that you are a big girl now,” she lets out a sigh before continuing, “when I was your age, my father wouldn’t let me think or do anything for myself. I’m not letting that happen to you.”

You give your mother a smile, “thanks, Mom.”

Before you know it, Monday rolls around and you’re up bright and early. You were the epitome of a bundle of nerves, getting yourself ready and prettied up to ensure that not only you get there on time, but that you were presentable. 

Might as well give him something nice to look at while working, right?

It’s about a ten minute drive to Mr. Mason’s-- Leon’s house, so you make sure you’re out the door by quarter of eight to give yourself plenty of time to get there. Getting in your Chevette, you back out of the driveway and make your way there. Hemlock Drive is just on the outskirts of town, the entryway actually not too far from the gas station you had been working at. At the very end, you see it, an old ranch style home with a farmer’s porch; you guess it was probably built in the 30s. How many times had you come down here with your school friends and knocked on that front door, only to bolt when Mr. Mason came rushing out, red faced and furious as he chased the kids away. You immediately spot Leon’s motorcycle parked in the front. Over on the side of the house you see another vehicle parked: a black Jeep Wrangler with its unmistakable square headlights.

You park your car, turning off the engine to pull your keys out of the ignition, throwing them into your purse before you climb out of your car. You look down at your watch; it’s five of eight, early like you had intended. You approach the house, climbing the small set of steps, your heart pounding in your chest. You stand in front of the door, raising your trembling hand and give it a few knocks. You can hear movement inside the house and before you have time to collect yourself, Leon opens the door and you almost gasp. He’s shirtless and you can’t help but admire his built form. You force your eyes up to his, his ocean blues looking back at you as he smiles at you. 

“Good morning, sweetheart! Ready to get to work?”

Part 3

[mignonricciardo]

holidaze | mv33

i am being delusional and manifesting an alternate world where max is not with kelly... ANYWHO please enjoy holiday max bc carefree maxie is my favorite and this is an entirely self-indulgent fic to play on that

summary: after one night in the club, max has some ideas on the yacht. family vacation? that won't stop him. (4.3k words) warnings: p in v, straight smut, unprotected sex, some plot, mention of max as brother's best friend, cursing, hook position and potential mating press (oops)

With waves of the Adriatic Sea lapping against the yacht, I’ve never been more grateful for my parents’ friendships to influence my own growing up. As a kid, my mum would take my brother and I to races where my dad worked and Max’s dad raced. Max and my brother raced karts together, traveling constantly back and forth between Belgium and the Netherlands, and I tagged along as much as I could with Victoria. The family had long been close friends with our mothers being best friends, and even as life threw constant change at us, we always managed to stay close. Even now, after 25 years, I lay sprawled out on the plush benches on the bow of Max’s yacht soaking up the Croatian sun. Max’s yacht has always been one of my favorite places, and invites to the floating dollar sign picked up after his most recent break up. 

Beyond the confines of the yacht, Max and my brother Dion zip around on jet skis. I can hear their laughing and hollering as they send water flying at each other as they race. Despite Max’s successful racing career and Dion’s pivot into finance, they were still competitive over who was quicker at everything. Hanna, Dion’s fiance and my soon-to-be-sister-in-law, sighs as the pair of boys are particularly loud as they zip by. 

“You’ve got to learn to tune them out,” Victoria, Max’s sister, grins from her spot on the bow. “It becomes a lot easier once you do.”

“You've both got it figured out,” she says, sitting up from her spot tanning. 

I turn to her, lowering my sunglasses just enough, “We have years of practice. You’ll get there.”

“I’ll need to,” she smirks, wiggling her brows. “At this rate, it looks like Max will be around even more.”

I groan loudly, throwing an arm over my face so Victoria can’t see the blush lighting up my cheeks. Hanna laughs as Victoria looks at both of us with a confused expression.

“Alright, what the hell did I miss?” 

She’s fully seated now, and any intentions of her dropping the conversation are gone along with my hopes of continuing my tan in peace. I drop my arm away from my face, craning my neck to look at her before Hanna can get any of her conspiracies out.

“As you know, we went to some clubs the other night. Hanna here thinks Max and I were a little close for being family friends, but we were both drunk. That was literally it.”

Hanna gasps, flying up from her seat, “It was more than that! Victoria, you should have seen it. Max could not stop staring at her ass, and she was totally checking him out all night. Her arm was looped through his anytime we walked to another club, and he was constantly helping her up from seats with hands on the waist. Dion and I felt like we were interrupting something, and we’re the engaged ones.”

“Finally!” Victoria cheers, causing my jaw to drop and Hanna to bust into laughter. “You’ve only been thirsting after him for years. It’s foul because that’s my brother, but you can finally act out whatever perverted fantasies you’ve had since we were teenagers.”

“Why am I just finding this out?” Hanna calls.

“Oh, there are years of history here. Just wait until I-”

“Hi! It’s my life, so can we please stop here?!” I snap at the two women who just snicker at me. 

Victoria lets a moment of silence pass before turning to me, “Can I at least find out what I missed the other night?”

I pinch my brows but eventually nod, giving Hanna the go ahead to tell the entire story to Victoria. She starts with her typical theatrics, using her hands and animated expressions as she talks about the club. 

“... Next thing you know, Dion and I are looking for them to let them know we’re good to go whenever they want to leave, and we can’t find them anywhere. After making our way around the bar, Dion sees them and nearly keels over. They’re on the dance floor, and she’s fully shaking ass on a more than happy Max.”

“Hanna, gross, that’s my brother,” Victoria cringes at the image Hanna is painting. 

She continues nonetheless, “I mean, it was filthy. Dion’s head nearly explodes, but I stop him from storming over there with the reminder that they’re both adults and both so drunk they had no clue what they were doing. To avoid an incident, I go over to tell them we’re ready to go while Dion tries to look anywhere else. Thankfully, the two of them lose some of the haze and sober up and follow us out. No one said a word in the cab back to the villa.”

My cheeks are bright red at the hazy memory, remembering how I melted into his touch and the weight of his hands on my hips. The feeling of my ass pressed against him still crept up when I least expected it in the days since the incident, so I’ve been doing my best to avoid Max. Victoria looks at me, jaw agape and eyes knowing.

“It didn’t stop there, did it?” she says, and Hanna turns to me with eyes wide. 

“What?!”

I pinch my brows, muttering quietly and avoiding the gazes of both women, “Yes and no. He came to my room at the villa while you and Dion were in the shower. I was drunk, so nothing happened, but he stayed the night.”

The two women have abandoned any sense of our previous sunbathing, with sunglasses discarded and sitting at full attention now as I reveal the end of the night. The two chatter to one another, gossiping about Max and I right in front of me. Once they;ve said anything there is to say, they turn back to me with expectant ears.

“Promise me you won’t say anything and you’ll drop it?” I ask with a defeated sigh. 

“Fine,” Hanna says, settling back into the lounger.

Victoria echoes her sentiment, “Since it’s my brother, I’m disgusted, but I do approve, babe. You’re good for each other, even if it's just sex.”

My cheeks burn from more than the sun, no matter how much time has passed since the conversation with the girls ended. Rehashing the incident causes all of the fragmented memories to resurface, and I can’t shake the memory of his hands on my waist or the unshared detail of his lips on my neck. The sun feels a few degrees too hot, and my skin is itching with heat. I try to ignore it and mimic the zen of Hanna and Victoria, but I cave and secure the bikini straps over my shoulders before diving into the blue water. It’s refreshing — the cool waves lapping against my skin and evaporating the prickling heat. When I resurface, pushing wet hair back over my shoulders, I bob in the wake of Max who zips by on a jet ski. He kills the engine, grinning at me as he quirks his eyebrows.

“Want some company?”

I try desperately not to stare, a weak attempt at ignoring the water dripping down his neck from his hair or hands wrapped tightly around the handles of the jet ski. His biceps flex ever so subtly as he leans forward on the handle bars, and he smiles softly as he catches me staring. I run my hands over my hair, pushing the soaking strands back from my face. I grin as he watches my movements, eyes dipping to the water hitting right at my shoulders. 

“Are you trying to get us in more trouble?”

He laughs, eyes squinting, “I’m just trying to swim with one of my lifelong friends. Or take her for a ride on the jet ski.”

I stare at him for a moment, running my hands over my hair to push the wet strands back from my face. All it takes from Max is a quirk of his eyebrow and hint of a grin, and I give in to his request. 

“Got a life vest for me?” I ask, taking his outstretched hand as I hoist myself on to the lip of the jet ski.

I can feel Max’s eyes on my ass as I haul my legs up onto the lip, hand gripping his knee as I rise precariously. The jet ski bobs in the water at the unbalanced movement, and Max’s hands steady my waist as I pitch forward. I dangle over the blue sea briefly, acutely aware of his hands on me keeping me from tumbling over. When it feels steady enough, I throw a leg over the seat, sliding in toward Max. 

He looks over his shoulder at me, “You’ve got to hang on, liefje. I don’t bite.”

I roll my eyes, sliding my arms around his waist as the velcro of the life vest presses into my forearms, “Do you want Dion to kill us?”

“He’d have my head if I let you fly off the jet ski, so we’re in trouble either way, aren’t we?”

“Hanna told Victoria about the club,” I admit to him, unable to keep from telling him as he slowly steers us toward the yacht. “I told them you stayed the night, but that nothing happened.”

“But that’s not entirely true, is it?” he says, and I just stare at the back of his head as he comes to a stall near the yacht. 

He grabs my hand again, steadying me as I step onto the yacht to grab a life vest of my own. He watches me secure it across my chest, and I catch his eyes firmly planted on my chest being squeezed by the neoprene. I roll my eyes at him, muttering how he’s lucky Dion can’t see us, and he grins as he helps me back onto the jet ski. My arms wrap around his waist again, fingers brushing the exposed skin of his stomach, and he inhales sharply at the contact. 

“You alright there?” I grin, my index finger doing another pass over his skin. 

He breathes in again, “Hold on, liefje. I’d hate to have to dive in after you.”

“In your dreams,” I start, turning into squealing laughter as Max sends us flying away from the yacht. 

My arms tighten around him, squeezing around his waist as my hips slip toward him on the soaked seat. My knees hug the outside of his thighs as we zip through the water, and my skin slides against his as the waves jostle us. My chest presses to his back, and I can’t help but become hyper aware of the lack of space between us and the warmth spreading through my limbs. Once he’s had his go at showing off, he slows the jet ski to a steady pace thats farther from the yacht. One of his hands releases his grip on the handle bars, resting over mine wrapped tightly around his waist. 

He laughs airily as his fingers rest on mine, “If you wanted to touch me like this, all you had to do was ask, liefje. You’ve got a death grip.”

A surge of confidence flows through my veins at the rasp in his voice, “Touch you like what, Max?”

My hand not covered by his runs across the elastic at the top of his shorts, skimming across skin and through the scattering of hair around his navel. I smirk as his breath catches and stomach clenched at my touch. 

I lean toward his ear, “Touch you like this?”

He takes a steadying breath, voice raspy as he speaks, “Please, don’t start something we can’t finish. It’s not your fault, but I can’t take it again.”

“That was nice of you, Maxie,” I say sweetly, leaning my chin on his shoulder. “Saying no because I was drunk even though I was begging for you.”

“It was the right thing,” he shrugs gently, breathing in sharply as my index finger continues its slow journey across his skin. “You were nearly impossible, though. Begging to suck me off like a good girl.”

“And if I still want to?” I hum, stopping my hands. 

“Then we need to figure out a way to be discreet,” he answers, craning his neck to look at me over his shoulder. “They’re probably wondering where we’ve gone now, and I don’t need your brother mad at me again in regard to you.”

“Then, let me drive,” I say to him, taking in his side profile beneath the beating sun. “We’ll say you were teaching me. Discreet, right?”

Surprisingly, it doesn’t take much convincing for Max to agree to letting me pilot the Red Bull branded jet ski. I reluctantly let go of his waist, fingers falling away from his waistband, and I notice his breath return to normal when I do. Max throws his arm out again, gripping my hand tightly to help me balance as I shimmy along the lip of the jet ski and over him to switch spots. He slides in behind me when I settle in front of the handlebars, and I notice the gap of space he leaves on purpose between us. His knees press against the outside of my thighs, and his arms wrap over mine to touch the handles. He does a crash course on piloting the jet ski, and while I pay some attention, I’m more focused on his voice in my ear and the closing gap between us. 

“You want to give it a go?” he asks, hands dropping from mine to settle at my waist instead. I nod, and he continues, “Ease onto the throttle, and hold tight to the handles.”

I follow his instructions, sending us gliding across the water in a crawl much slower than Max’s turn. As our speed picks up some, I let out a laugh as the waves batter against the hull of the jet ski. Max’s chest bumps into my back with the force of the waves, and his hips slide closer to mine. I feel him bump into my ass, and his breath hitches as it does. To test my theory, I arch my back ever so slightly, smirking when his hands tighten on my hips enough to leave soft bruises in their wake. He’s straining against his board shorts, nestled against my ass with every bump from the waves, and he groans when I look at him over my shoulder. 

“You’re such a tease,” his voice is strained. “You’re going to get us into trouble.”

“Us or you?” I hum, arching my back again as he sucks in air through his teeth. “I can control myself, Maxie.”

One of his hands slides to my inner thigh, fingers ghosting across the skin and skimming the seam of my red swimsuit bottoms. I gasp as he grins, white knuckling the handlebars, and the nickname I’ve used for him hangs heavy in the air. He leans forward, fingers stilling but resting heavy on my skin, and mutters lowly, “Do I need to remind you how you were begging?”

I arch my back into him, feeling his hardness press into me and his hand press into my leg, “Do I need to again?”

His fingers climb my inner thigh, rubbing circles across the supple skin, and I slump back into him at the sensation. Hands ease off the handlebars as the jet ski comes to a stall. Max’s laugh is quiet in my ear, his breath fanning across my neck, “It sounds like you don’t need any convincing.”

“Max,” I gasp, his fingers setting fire across my skin in their wake. “Max, please. I don’t care that they’re all here. I’ll make up an excuse.”

“Liefje, you and I both know it’s not a good idea,” he whispers quietly, fingers continuing their slow crawl on my skin. “No matter how bad I want to.”

“What happened to no teasing?” my chest heaves, fingers wrapping around his wrist. 

The waves lap against the jet ski, and Max chuckles quietly at my labored breathing. I arch my back again, pressing myself against Max, and he curses quietly at the pressure. One of his hands slides around my thigh, gripping the skin firmly as I gasp.

“You really want to do this now?” his voice is rough in my ear, clawing for any sense of clarity with my ass pressed against him. I nod my head against his shoulder, fingers gripping at his wrist tightly. He continues against my ear, “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to take us back to the yacht. You’re going to act like you’re going to be sick, and I’m just a helpful friend. If anyone asks later, I was helping you clean up after you got sick, got it?”

I nod my head, “And what is actually going to happen?”

“We find out how good of a listener you are,” he says, and I let out a whine at his words. 

Making it back to the yacht happens in a blur as I’m too consumed with images of what's to come, and lying to them on the bow is easy as Victoria asks where we’re headed. My distracted state helps sell the story, and I stumble into one of the bedrooms on the massive yacht. Max shuts the door behind him, making sure to click the lock on it, before facing me. I stand dumbly near the bed, watching his every move and ripple of his muscle as he takes steadying breaths. When our eyes meet, it’s like telepathy. 

We simultaneously launch at one another, lips clashing in a familiar dance with a ferocious pace. The club had been hazy, distant memories of his hands on my hips and in my hair and his lips on my skin, but this — this is the feeling of my skin being lit from within. His hands are in my hair, tugging at the strands with a force that makes me weak, and my fingers curl into his hair as he walks us toward the bed in the middle of the room. My knees hit the duvet, and we break apart long enough to scramble onto the bed before resuming our desperate dance. 

“Max, please,” I breathe as his lips work down my neck.

My hips press into his as his hands skim down my hips, “So impatient, liefje.”

“Need you to fuck me,” I say, and he groans as I do. 

Max looks up from stomach, his eyes hooded and grin on his face. The image of him between my legs and my hands in his hair nearly causes me to combust, but I could care less about how desperate I look. 

“You’re lucky we don’t have much time,” he answers, fingers reaching behind my back to tug at the bikini strings. 

The red top falls away from me, and Max’s fingers pull the damp material away to expose my chest. His hands palm my breasts, fingers gripping at peaked nipples as I moan into his touch. Desperate pleas fall from my lips at his ministrations, and my nails scrape lightly along his back. 

He groans quietly, lips brushing against my chest as he continues his tortuous touches, “Next time, when we have more time, I want to taste you.”

“Next time?” I grin, turning to a moan as his fingers dip into my swimsuit bottoms.

He nods, humming as he pulls the red bottoms down my legs, “You know there will be a next time, liefje. There’s too many things we want to do.”

I kick the bottoms off my legs in assistance, watching as he tosses them carelessly to the side before his hands tug at the waistband of his board shorts. My hands settle over his, and he slows his movements as he watches my every move. 

“Let me,” I whisper, hands replacing his as I tug slowly at the elastic band. 

He lets me, dropping one of his hands to his side and letting the other settle in my hair. I look up at him, biting back a grin and relishing in the power he holds over me. My fingers tug his board shorts down his thighs, hands stuttering as his cock leaps to attention when the barrier is gone. The board shorts are discarded along with my bikini in record time, and I take a moment to admire him towering over me. Fingers wrap around his shaft, and he watches with a sigh as my lips find him, wrapping around the head slowly before returning to my spot admiring him. 

“You’ll get to, liefje,” he grunts quietly, nudging me back toward the bed. “When we have more time. Right now, fucking you is all I can think about.”

I curse at his words, letting him maneuver me among the pillows as he crawls over top of me. Our lips meet again, swollen lips clashing as his hips press against mine. I moan into the kiss, feeling the weight of him on my body and desperate for me. One of his hands slips between us, finding my clit to rub slow circles while his other hand slides down my leg, gently wrapping around my calf. He lifts my leg, fingers pressing into my calf, and lets it rest against his arm hooked at my hip. With another plea and minimal thought, he hoists my other leg before sliding into me. The press of him against me is mind-altering, causing my eyes to squeeze shut as my nails sink into his shoulders. The moan that falls from my lips as he slides all the way into me should be embarrassing, but I can’t think about anything else but Max.

“I know, babe,” he groans, stilling as he heaves for air. “God, you’re perfect.”

“Max, I-” I start, eyes opening to meet his. “You feel so good.”

“Fuck, we’re doing this again,” he mutters, hands pressing into my hips as he moves slowly. 

My eyes flutter shut at the sensation, another moan as he begins a slow pace into me, “I never want it to end.”

“We never have to,” he answers, sweat beginning to bead at his hairline. 

The pace he picks up is relentless, and the slap of his skin against mine is obscene. I can’t bring myself to care, too focused on the way Max fills me and his hands leave bruises on my skin. He hoists my legs higher to rest on his shoulders, and he hits a spot so deep within me that my eyes screw shit as I let out a pathetic whimper. 

“There you go, baby,” he grunts, keeping his relentless pace. “Let me hear it, doll. I feel it, too.”

“Max, fuck,” I choke, eyes beginning to roll into the back of my head. “I’m going to-”

“I know, liefje,” he groans, voice a rasp in my ear. “I’m nearly there. Tell me where you want me.”

“Want you in me,” I answer, fingers gripping his shoulders tightly as a desperate attempt to keep from spiraling over the edge. “Please.”

“Fuck, I can’t say no to you,” he mutters, hips stuttering at a crushing pace against me. 

I try to tell him — to warn him that I’m too far gone — but I can’t get any words out as the sensation overwhelms me. My eyes screw shut as I slump against the pillows, and Max isn’t far behind as I clench around him. I’m filled with warmth, and in the haze of what we’d just done, I find comfort in his body pressed to mine and our intimate connection. He lingers for a moment as he regains his senses, pulling out gently to which I protest, but he returns with tissues to clean me up as best as he can before reaching for my bathing suit for me. He props my still shaking body up, tying my bikini straps for me and sliding straps up my shoulders. 

“C’mon, up you go,” he whispers, helping to pull my red bottoms up my legs and tugging at the waistband to cover my bruised hips. “There you go, pretty girl.”

He tugs his board shorts on himself, and I watch as he tucks himself into the waistband. Red scratches and indents adorn the milky skin of his back, and my cheeks burn red at the damage I’ve done.

“You’ll need a shirt to go back down, I’m sorry,” I whisper. 

He laughs as he leans forward, kissing my lips gently, “I’ll tell them its from the jet ski if they ask. You got scared when I went too fast, but you were good and took it, didn’t you?”

“Fuck you,” I groan. “How am I supposed to go down there and pretend I didn’t have the best sex of my life?”

He grabs my hand to help pull me up from the mattress, “I’d agree with that statement.”

As we head to the end of the hallway, lingering at the top of the stairs to take us back to the bow, I turn to Max, hand resting on his chest as our eyes meet. We both grin when we meet eyes, and I laugh quietly as he wiggles his eyes.

“The rest of holiday, can we do this?” I ask gently, rubbing gentle circles into his skin.

“More than just holiday,” he answers, caressing my ass as we walk down the steps. I swat at him as we near the steps, but he continues, “Tonight after dinner. My room. We have no schedule.”

I watch as he heads toward Dion, leaving me to go back to the girls. God, I’m screwed.

[sweets4dolls]

✧˚ · . dion agriche 𝓍 f!crybaby!reader ➛ he loves to see you cry.

content. smut. toxic relationship. dacryphilia. y'all are married. dub con. size kink. mentioned blood. power imbalance. typical agriche family dynamic. upset reader in the beginning. not proofread. manhandling.

ever since you had married dion, it became something of a routine that when he came back from one of his missions he would always reward himself by getting between your legs and fucking you. he just always seems to get to pent up after he finishes all his killing, leaving him wanting for you.

however, its particularly late into the night and today has been hard, after having to meet with dion's mother against your will and hear all her critiques for you, leaving you in tears by the time you leave, pushing the topic of sex to the back of your hazy mind. But dion has other ideas, as he enters without a knock, barging into your room. the blood on his clothes not even having dried as he's suddenly pushing you down and pinning you to the bed underneath his massive frame.

"d-dion," you whisper out as he feverishly presses kisses down your warm neck. despite how his touches makes your lashes flutter, you push against his chest with a small hand, "n-not right now." ignoring your comment, dion grips your wrist, encasing it in his larger hand and moves it down, ignoring your plea until he speaks, "why not?" his words make you sigh, feeling too tired and upset to explain, the familiar feeling of tears start to sting your eyes again.

nevertheless, your lips part as you mumble, "I've j-just had a hard d-day, and I wa-" you get cut off as he interjects, "don't worry, I'll make you feel better," clearly not worried about you and only seems to be set on fulfilling his own desires.

he presses his blood-stained chest against your own, the crimson substance staining your cotton nightgown, effectively making more of your tears fall and you gag slightly. the slightest smirk plays on his lips as he pulls back and watches the warm liquid fill your large doe eyes and trickle down your rosy cheeks.

"dion, m-my nightgown, let's just go to bed," you try with no avail as he dives back into your lips, this time his hands shifting the fabric of your nighttime attire up your hips, allowing him to pull you to the edge of the bed and split your legs apart.

he just chuckles, a hand going to your cheek to roughly push away some of the tears, "my little girl, you love to make a fuss," he murmurs patronizingly as he moves your already wet panties to the side, sinking two of his large fingers into your flushed cunt.

the motion rips a soft sound from your throat as your body tenses on the sheets. he's always been big, nearly too big for your fragile body to handle. the way he moves them inside of you is audible, the sound hitting both of your ears, consequently making you blush.

"that's it sweetheart, relax," he breathes out as he retracts his palm from your pussy, almost taking it as a blessing before he soon enough replaces it with the tip of his dick. before you can open your mouth to say anything, he bottoms out in you in an instant, making you choke on your cries.

tears flood your cheeks and vision as dion leans down, pressing kisses to the rivulets that flow down your face before starting his harsh thrusts. Each time he slams his hips into yours you could feel the head of his cock hit your cervix, resulting in you attempting to shift up the bed away from him.

harshly, he grips your hips with a pressure that would surely bruise and pulls you back down towards him with a chuckle, holding you in place as he fucks you into the bed.

"d-dion, 's too m-much," you gasp as you feel your body move with each and every one of the thrusts. "you can take it," he nearly coos, smiling coldly, his words sounding more like a demand rather than reassurance if anything.

he continues to rut into your pussy, thumb circling your sensitive clit which in turn draws more tears from your eyes, just how he likes it. something about the way you look, eyes all glossy and lips puffy and that tender complexion completely ruined, just for him, it gets him going like nothing else.

your legs shake as you cry out and cum around him, not that seemed to deter him from finishing fucking you. if anything, it seemed to make him speed up, fucking you rapidly until he came inside your cunt.

you whine as he pulls out, causing a few tears to fall from your eyes at the sensation of being empty. dion leans down to kiss at your tears, tasting the salty liquid on his lips as he murmurs into your skin, "you look so pretty when you cry."

[six-strings-of-fate]

Hands-On Viewing Experience *✧:*₊ °

An N$FW Ross Lynch x gn!Reader Fic

Sum: You've known Ross for a while, albeit as a friend-of-a-friend. Though he's always been friendly and respectful (and pretty damn attractive,) you two haven't spent much alone time. However, when all of you and his friends cancel on the night's plans and he invites you in for a movie night, the two of you become much closer than you ever expected. Word Count: 4,362 Rating: Mature (Oral Sex, Language) A/N: This is my first real shot at any xReader stuff, so I hope you like it!

Ross stood in the doorway in front of you, in nothing but the pair of gray briefs he swore he was gonna throw out for being too small. A T-shirt and jeans wasn't underdressed after all, it seemed.

“Oh, what’s up?” A small grin broke on Ross’s otherwise tired face as he rested his hand on the door frame. “I didn’t think you were coming over. Everyone else cancelled.”

“Yeah, but I was really looking forward to all of us hanging out again,” Though you spoke fairly evenly, your thoughts were all jumbled up with a scantily clad Ross in front of you. His skin was a light pink all over with a slight glow to it. Maybe it was your imagination, but his muscles all seemed to pop more than usual. “Sorry, I should’ve texted first.”

“It’s chill. Actually, I just finished working out and was gonna have a little movie night with myself.”

“Oh, right,” You responded with a quick smile, expecting him to ask you to leave, “Well, I-“

“But, since you’re already here,” Ross nodded his head upwards, gesturing towards his home, “I wouldn't say no to a little company. Especially not yours.”

You take a moment to respond, just a little caught up on the fact Ross was inviting you in like he wasn’t half-naked. You and him were close enough, sure, and it was impossible to have an objectively sexy pop-rock star friend and not see him in his underwear from time to time, but Ross had never been one to just be half-naked in front of you.

When you glanced up at Ross, though, you got the impression he knew this just as well. His amber eyes, trained solely on you, glistened in a way familiar to you from all your nights out on the town. The look a half-drunk, half-dressed, wholly-horny Ross gave to whoever he decided would be that night's mistake. 

"Sure, why not?"  Considering your friendship, you might be shaping up to be Ross's and your biggest mistake of all. Still, as you watched his muscled frame step aside to let you in, you couldn't be more grateful neither of you were perfect.

As you walked through the doorway, you felt warm skin against your neck as Ross draped his arm over your shoulder. With his side hugged firmly against yours, you could feel him humming My Heart Will Go On  as well as you can hear it.

"Celine Dion? What, are we gonna watch Titanic or something?" You asked as Ross guided you into his living room. Even though you'd been to his place enough to know your way around, you didn't mind him guiding you around if he was this close.

"Don't judge me, okay?" Ross pleaded as you both came to a stop. He turned his head to look down at you, an exaggerated pout on his face.

"Of course not, it's a total classic or something," You responded, trying your best not to giggle. It was no secret Ross was more sentimental than the average guy, which was certainly something you loved about him, but it always struck you as a little humorous when he would recommend shows or songs that your grandma would criticize for being too sappy.

"Whatever, dude," Ross scoffed, removing his arm from your shoulder and patting you twice on the back, "I'll go grab the movie. In the meantime, you can sit here and rethink your taste in movies."

Despite his instructions, you found yourself standing still as Ross walked down the hallway to his room. Just like the rest of them, his back muscles seemed to bulge out from his body with a post-workout glow. Your eyes followed every muscle from his shoulder and down his spine, imagining how it'd feel to run your hands over them. Hard to the touch as your body would be pressed against his, something to grip while he shakes the bed f-

You shook your head, coming to your senses as he turned the corner. He was just your friend and nothing more, a fact you reminded yourself of as you went to sit down.

Ross's living room was comfortably familiar to you. Supported by hardwood flooring and surrounded by white walls, the living room housed brown leather couches and a small wooden coffee table. Against the wall behind them was a desk, flanked with two large black bookshelves, filled with photo albums, DVDs, and of course, books. 

The leather of the couch stretched as you sat down, and you stretched in kind, grateful to be sat anywhere after the walk to Ross’s place. Straight across from you was his TV, on top of a glass tabletop with two rows of shelf supporting it. Several gaming consoles, devices, and board game boxes sat atop them.

After a minute or so of shuffling coming from Ross's room, he returned, a DVD box in hand and blanket over his shoulder.

"Got it," Ross held the DVD up to show you, then tossing it up in the air and catching it with his left hand. With his right, he pulled the blanket off himself and tossed it to you.

As you spread the blanket over yourself, your eyes again drifted to Ross as he took the disc out of the box went to put it in. He bent down to the DVD player, sliding the disc in.

Though Ross claimed his underwear were two sizes too small, you didn't mind the snug fit. Not when they were practically tearing at the seams trying to hold his ass in them. You could see both cheeks clearly, big, round, and bouncing as Ross jostled his DVD player. 

"Piece of shit!" He grunted as he smacked around the poor device. Turning his head slightly, he added, "Sorry, it's a little slow. We've had this thing since my R5 days."

You probably mumbled out something like a response to Ross’s comment. Not like you would remember if you did, considering what started jiggling as Ross started roughing up his DVD player.

His dick was heavy. It had to be, considering how it had been saugging in his underwear since you'd gotten there. Now, with the aggressive motion of Ross smacking his DVD player, it swung up and down with such weight it pulled his underwear down a bit. Had the machine not been such a little bitch and began functioning, you might have gotten to see everything.

"Alright, it's working for now," Ross huffed, pulling up his underwear and resting his hands on his hips. So much for finding out why he was cast as Austin Moon. "Hopefully it'll hold out long enough for us to watch the whole thing. You thirsty?"

"What-?" You blinked several times, assuming you'd been called out for your not-so-subtle staring. You didn't think you were looking anywhere indecent, but his whole body was a minefield of places you could get lost daydreaming about.

"Are you thirsty? For a drink?" Ross tilted his head, a little confusion in his voice. "I just got sponsored by this sports drink company and they gave me more juice than I could ever want."

"Oh! Sure, yeah, totally," Affirmatives stumbled out of your mouth as you felt your face grew hot. The only thing keeping you from bursting into actual flames on the spot was the knowledge that you avoided the thousand-times worse situation of Ross knowing you were checking him out.

You somehow salvage the name of your favorite flavor from of the housefire of embarrassment that was your brain, telling it to Ross. With a smile as relaxed and charming as always, Ross gave you a nod and went into the kitchen.

Not more than a minute later, Ross returned, two cartons in hand. 

“Heads up,” He called, tossing a carton to you and opening his red mixed-berry drink. Although you fumble it into your lap, Ross gives you a supportive thumbs up anyway.

The cap to the drink was unnecessarily complicated, taking all your focus to figure out and open (un-latch, un-hook, push down and twist? It's a surprise you didn't have to answer an algebra problem, too.) You were so focused, in fact, that you didn't notice Ross coming to sit next to you until he was practically on you.

Ross's couch was a three-seater, with room for two more people than that. With all that space on the sofa available to him, Ross chose to sit directly next to you. Not elbow-to-elbow close, not even arm-to-arm close, but him-slinging-his-arm-over-you-and-pulling-your-body-into-his close.

Even holding you against his barely clothed body, Ross was as nonchalant as ever.

"Okay," Ross sighed, seeming to lean against you as he settledhimself into the couch. After navigating the Blu-Ray menu to the "Play Movie" button, he turned his head to look at you, "Comfy?"

His face was inches from yours now. Minuscule details about him became clear to you- his stubble, the dimple on his right cheek, and several tiny blemishes on his face normally concealed by makeup. Things you hadn’t been able to see before, things most people never would, glowed in the dim light of his TV as his warm, minty(?) breath grazed your face.

"Yeah," You whispered, "I am."

For the most part, you and Ross were quiet after that. Though your focus was mostly on the fact that Ross and you were so close while he was so naked, the parts of Titanic you did focus on were pretty alright (even if all your investment in the story came from imagining Ross as Jack and yourself as Rose.)

After about the halfway point of the movie, (that is, an hour and a half of him cradling you against his body,) Ross began to slide his arm down your back. Casually, while he made some comment about the film. He rested it low on your body, his forearm wrapping around your waist and hand exerting a slight grip on your hip. His index finger played around with your waistband, like it was waiting for your permission to rip your pants clean off.

With the suggestive placement of Ross's hand, your mind started swarming with the same thoughts it had been earlier. Feeling you up, watching Titanic, being half-fucking-naked alone with you- if he wasn't trying to communicate he was into you, then he was communicating how in-sane he was.

So, you rested his head on his shoulder. Considering how close you were, it was barely more than a slight tilt, but Ross noticed. He rested his head on top of yours, giving your hip a light squeeze.

“Y’know, I’m actually kinda glad everyone else cancelled on us,” Ross spoke, his voice low and quiet, yet still reverberating through your head, "I'm glad we're spending some one-on-one time together."

"Me too," You responded, your hand finding a comfortable spot on Ross's thigh, "I can't remember the last time it's been just me and you."

"It hasn't," Ross responded quickly, then following up with an awkward, "I mean, you were my brother's friend first, so we usually only hang out with him around."

Before you could appreciate the fact Ross was as fixated on the fact you two were alone as you were, you felt his head turn until you could hear his slow, deep breathing in your ear.

"That's why I never made my move before," With every word, the soft skin of his lips brushed against your ear. Though his voice was even lower than before, it seemed a thousand times louder than the movie playing in front of you.

It took every ounce of boldness within you to turn your head too. Nose-to-nose with Ross, you could tell he’d let you kiss him right then. Still, you couldn’t resist letting this moment go on a little longer.

“Well, he’s not here now,” With every word, your lips brushed against Ross’s the slightest bit, “But you haven’t done anything yet.”

Ross broke into a smile, “You think I haven’t made a move tonight?”

“I think you haven’t made the move tonight.”

Ross opened his mouth, which you presumed was to speak. Anticipating his next words, you were surprised as the banter between you both was cut short by Ross kissing you on the lips.

For a second, didn’t register it was happening. He barely had to move to reach your lips, and you didn’t move at all. It was two or three seconds before you even thought to kiss back. It was nice, but Ross pulled away too soon for you to appreciate it fully.

“There,” Ross ran his hand through his hair, “That better?”

"A little," You said. Amazingly, even as heat rose through your chest and face, you played it cool. 

"A little? What, you want more?" Ross responded, not really a question or offer. Just a statement of fact, plain and simple.

Paying Ross back in kind for catching you off guard before, you leaned in and kissed him in place of a response. You shimmied your hand up his back and placed your hand behind his head, making sure he wouldn't pull away so quickly.

The best part of kissing Ross wasn't that he was objectively amazing at it. It wasn't his silky hair in your hand or soft lips on yours. It wasn't even him caressing your lower back under your shirt. It was how he smelled.

God, he smelled good. More than good, intoxicating. His woodsy deodorant mixed with his post-workout musk filled your nostrils he pulled you in closer, driving you crazier with every whiff you got.

Eventually, his lips weren’t enough for you anymore, and you began to kiss him across his cheek and jaw, settling on his neck. It was thick and smelled strongly of Ross's cologne- of Ross, that every ounce of restraint escaped your body along with desperate breaths and yearning moans.

You felt Ross’s deep moans vibrate in his throat as you took bits of loose skin between your teeth and ran your tongue over his larynx destabilized by heavy breaths. Your free hand roamed his chest, rock-hard just as you predicted, eventually finding it's way down to his navel. Without hesitation, your fingers began to tug at the waistband of his underwear, and questions of whether your prediction about what was underneath were as true as those about his abs.

"Take 'em off," Ross spoke in an authoritative tone you'd never heard before, "I know you want to."

You wanted to, more than Ross could ever you did. The second Ross raised his hips up to allow easy removal, you yanked his underwear down to his knees.

You stared at his cock. Gawked, even. How could you not? You'd been daydreaming about it for the past 90 minutes daydreaming about it.

It was more than everything you thought it'd be. So thick it couldn't stand up on its own, Ross's dick rested against his stomach. You couldn't tell it's exact length, but experience and intuition told you it was comfortably within the ballpark of 8 inches of length. It was a couple shades  lighter than the rest of his body, with the head and balls a light shade of red. A couple of veins ran across it, the most notable being a thick, jagged line from the head of his dick to the bottom of his shaft. If you weren't so dead set on getting it into one or more of your holes, you'd find yourself intimidated.

Ross tilted your head upwards, shifting your gaze from his cock to his smirk. He didn't have to use his words to ask if you liked what you saw, and you didn't have to use yours to tell him you did. Instead, you both found yourself leaning into another kiss.

It felt natural, the way your bodies turned to face one another's, even though your first kiss with him wasn't five minutes ago. Arching your back and leaning into him, Ross wrapped his arms around you and laid on his back, pulling you down with him.

With the help of gravity, Ross's cock was pressed up against your chest. Though you weren't getting any skin-to-skin contact, you still felt the massive mass of meat below you. Arms gripped tight around you, Ross jerked your body upwards and downwards, creating friction on his dick that caused the vibrating moans you felt leave his mouth and enter yours.

Soon, you realized once more that Ross's lips weren't enough for you, and you knew his neck wouldn't be either. Once Ross's grip on you loosened, you moved from his mouth to give a quick kiss on his neck, then finally biting his left nipple.

"Shit!" Ross bucked his hips into your chest, but your mouth remained sucking on his nipple. You kept kissing and biting it, moans vibrating in your chest as Ross grinded his cock against it.

By the time you moved on, licking every single one of Ross's abs and the space between them. The lower you got, the fewer places you could lick that didn't have some hair bristling pleasantly against your tongue. Your shirt was wet with precum from Ross's rock-hard dick, stil rubbing up and down against your neck. With the sounds and movements he was making being so desperate, you knew exactly what he needed from you.

So, your tongue continued its journey down Ross's body, until it was finally at the base of his cock. Your tongue ran in half circles around Ross's shaft, a little less hairy than his navel. His hips were continuously pumping up down slightly, grunting like he was trying to keep himself calm and failing miserably.

You gave a few teasing licks to the bottom of his shaft, right over his vein, before pulling away and pleasuring his balls instead. His hips shot up as your tongue touched the skin under his balls, and he shouted a couple explosives as you continued licking.

Finally, he yanked your head away, reddening and gasping for breath as he told you, "Just- Fuck- Just focus on my dick, 'cause that's- that's too fucking much for me right now."

You nodded in agreement, promising yourself to return back down there to make him cum. With the power to completely unravel Ross, to leave him blushing and creaming and gasping for air, it would be criminal not to use it.

In the meantime, you did what he asked of you and lifted your head upwards, leaving less than an inch between your lips and the head of Ross's cock. It glistened, already leaking precum like Ross was ready to blow. A firm lick could've finished him off, but you intended on making this last.

You tasted Ross's precum, pressing the tip of your tongue on the head of his dick. He whimpered, placing his hand on the back of your head without exerting any pressure. The liquid was warmer than his skin, citrusy and rich with a flavor you'd never tasted before, that left you wanting more and more.

Running your tongue all over the head of Ross's cock, you lapped up all rest of the precum as Ross released soft sounds of pleasure. His hips rocked up and down ever so slightly, like his body was moving in a pleasure-driven trance that slowly intensified as you explored his cock further. His body jolted each time your tongue explored somewhere new, returning to an increased pace of thrusting right after. From under the head, down his shaft, and around the base, your tongue had thoroughly mapped out Ross's cock before your lips even touched it. He was moaning and pumping his hips, but you were just getting started.

After quickly licking off the precum on Ross’s cock again, you took the head into your mouth. You only intended to put a little into your mouth, but Ross bucked his hips into the air, and before you knew it, you had the head of his dick against the roof of your mouth.

“Mmfph!” You exclaimed, mouth full of cock. It wasn’t uncomfortable, nor was enough of it in that you couldn’t breathe, but it did surprise you. Readjusting quickly, you made space in the back of your mouth so that Ross could continue thrusting up and down without triggering your gag reflex.

From the sounds he made, you were putting him and heaven. He grunted and groaned, barely taking time to breathe between each noise. Cursing and moaning your name, you felt his hand press your head further down on his cock.

You took the extra length in your mouth in stride, gripping your left thumb and hoping for the best. Almost all of his dick was in your mouth, air coming into your throat every spare second Ross was out. 

It wasn’t the action of sucking dick that brought you pleasure, though. It was Ross’s reaction, becoming ever more frantic and aggressive the longer you had him in your mouth.

“Holy fuck, you’re fucking-“ Ross gasped, unable to finish his sentence before letting out a shuddering moan. He hadn’t said anything, but you could tell he was close.

After another few seconds, you pulled your mouth off his cock and licked his shaft once again. Predicting his upwards thrust at the change in sensation, you only licked halfway down his dick, letting his sudden motion bring the base up to your tongue. As his hips fell, you lowered your head with them, running your tougue around and under his balls.

Like before, Ross's reaction was explosive, but you were prepared this time. You wrapped one hand around his cock and stroking, pressing down on his abs to keep his hips from jumping too high as he cried out with pleasure.

"Oh my g-" Ross, gasping for air, wriggled ferociously even as you held him down. Your tongue would've quite literally driven him up the wall were he standing.

A waterfall of expletives and precum flooded out of his mouth and cock respectively, and you could tell by the tension of his cock in your hand that his climax was near. The more intensely he grunted and cussed and thrusted his hips, the quicker your tongue ran all over his balls and your hand jerked off his cock.

"I'm g- I'm gonna-" Ross yelled, and you jumped into action. Your head rose up and you put as much of Ross as could possibly fit into your mouth. 

Five ropes of thick, citrusy cum fired into the very back of your mouth as Ross fired off every exclamation he knew of. His face, you could see, was redder than the carton of mixed-berry he'd guzzled down earlier. His mouth gaped and his gaze was trained straight onto you, brimming so thoroughly with lust that you wondered how he contained it for as long as he had.

As more ropes shot into your mouth, you felt Ross push your head even further down onto his cock and say your name. A whisper at first, but he repeated louder and louder as his load just kept coming. 

You locked eyes with Ross and, even as you began to feel the need for air get to you, you felt like you could be there with him forever, being filled with cum, attraction, and even the slightest hint of love.

Finally, Ross released your head and you pulled away, swallowing all his cum in one gulp, followed by as much air as you could. You coughed a little as Ross sat up across from you on the couch, running his hand through his hair dampened with sweat.

With a still-reddened face, all he could say was your name with a contented smile and look of adoration.

"What?" You teased, keeping your cool in spite of everything. Rather than respond with words, Ross crawled forward and kissed you, pushing you over with his body weight. 

You were fully prepared for him to return the favor when you heard a car pulling into the driveway.

"Shit, that's Rocky," He muttered, leaping off of you and searching the floor for his underwear, "I thought he'd be out longer."

Once he found them, Ross scrambled into his underwear and rushed to his room. Obviously, you watched his butt jiggle as he ran away.

"Act normal!" He called as he turned into his room.

Moments later, Rocky walked in through the door, eyes widening as he saw you.

"Hey. Didn't think you'd be over," He said, glancing at Titanic still playing on the TV. "Where's Ross?"

Before you had to make up some lie, Ross reemerged from his room, now in a lavender t-shirt and shorts, smiling casually like nothing happened between you two.

"Sorry, I spilled some juice on myself and had to go change," Ross walked up to his brother and pulled him into a side hug, "How was the dentist?"

"Shitty. I thought I could watch some Golden Girls to relax, but if you guys are busy..."

"No, it's okay," You spoke up, face flushing with heat, "I was just going anyways."

Ross looked surprised, "You were?"

You gulped. You really, really wished you could stay, but everything you wanted to with Ross would be made awkward with the knowledge his brother in the house. Besides, if you stuck around Ross too long, you were certain Rocky would catch on to whatever was happening between you two.

"Yeah, I... gotta get up early tomorrow."

Ross looked disappointed, but walked you out to your car, standing close enough to you that your hands brushed repeatedly.

"I'll see you around," You told Ross, sticking your key in the car. 

You turn around to face him, and he pulls you in for a kiss. A quick one, though the way he lingered pulling away told you he wanted more.

"Make it soon, okay?" Ross grinned, checking you out one last time as he turned around, "I owe you some head."

You watched him walk away one last time, the butterflies in your chest running wild as you stepped into you car. Though you couldn't tell what you had just yet, you knew it wasn't ending any time soon.

[lyomeii]

a child with an incurable illness

->warning: yandere theme, platonic relationship, death (not reader)

-> request by anon! My first ever request I sincerely apologize for any mistakes I made! Could you, however, write the agriche family reaction on a child!reader who has recently become gravely ill? And finding out their illness is incurable. (If you aren't writing right now, you can delete this!)

->a/n: okay, this and the winter drafts are the only ones who didn’t got deleted, so yeah :/ but the good side is that i am back writing after my tests are over. So, enjoy. also in this imagine, I made the reader’s dead :) and I almost forget, after this i shall open my request tomorrow. Ps: this isn’t my best work since I spend a long time withou writing so forgive me

-> they didn’t saw that coming, none of them expect you to fall ill like that. It’s was spring and as usual, you were walking in the garden under Maria’s and Sierra’s watchful eyes, worrying about if you could trip someone and get hurts or bleed your knees

-> but the worst happened, the immense sound of you failing down over the roses and hurting your skins with thorns made Sierra screams, hoping you to get up and say “ that was nothing” and go back playing, however, you didn’t got up and blood start running your white shirt, making Sierra and Maria taking you to the family’s doctor

-> the news were swift told by toward the family members who all came to visit you at your bedroom, where the doctor was trying their best to find what exactly happened and what disease you have. After a few hours, the doctor step out of the bedroom and tell Lante about your disease

-> a rarely yet deadly disease that probably your mother’s side of the family carried for years and that now got you too. Such news made your parents and siblings distressed about it, threatening to kill the doctor if a cure isn’t found and well that what happen after the poor man told there is no cure for such disease.

-> with such news, none of them give up of finding a cure. Lante send his best men to very part of the world, Dion visit horrible places to find anything related to the disease while the others members tried their best to make your life more comfortable as times pass. Depends of the day, you fell terrible, sometimes you can raise from bed nor eat properly meals that the best chef ever made, yet there is the good days where you spend a few minutes out of your bedroom, listening to Grizelda reading a book, Roxanna showing her butterflies or Jeremy spending time with you til bedtime.

-> when the soldiers and Dion return home, they all have the same answer about your state, no cure. With all hope lost. Now the family decided to try their best to kept you alive for as long as possible and enjoy moment at their side, however as much they have numerous plans to spend their time with you, the disease got worsen.

-> incapable of speaking nor walking by yourself, you are now locked inside your bedroom doing simple activities that don’t require much strength such as reading or drawing. And whatever someone is free from their duties, they spend their time with you.

-> Roxanna and Jeremy tell stories of the outside with the butterflies flying around the bedroom. Grizelda takes you to the garden where you should to play, but this time she is either carrying you or use a wheelchair at the side of Sierra and Maria, both who make you laugh and smile with the many sweeties and toys you gain from them

-> in the other hand, Dion still act a little cold and distant about you. As much he wants to spend at your side and enjoy the last moments of your life, he feels that if does that, he might suffer even more than he wishes.

-> the day is coming closer, they all can sense it and when the moment arrive, the household shall prepare the greatest and most gorgeous funeral of all time

[rouecentric]

Hello! Are requests open? Can you do more lant agriche x reader pls 😭😭😭

COLD HANDS AND A HARDENED GLARE.

synopsis ; the cruel head of the black agrece, a menacing man, truly, but he was nothing more than a loving grandfather to his grandchild.

tw/cw ; lant agrece in general, childbirth, death.

letter from the stars ; i made these into a half headcannons- half oneshot and made it platonic since you didn't specify what kind of relationship you wanted lant to have with reader, so i hope you don't mind it!!

LANT AGRECE, a man who's said to not care about anything but himself, a man who's the head of the black agrece, a monster in many people's eyes, but to you? he was just a peculiar and strange grandfather.

the duke thought he wouldn't care about his family, simply using them to his benefits and wants, until his eldest son, dion, had a child with his now-dead wife, with the child thankfully ending up healthy.

but, just for the sake of it and to keep his son in check, he had come unannounced to his grandchild's nursery to see what all the fuss is about when it came to the newborn, as he heard that the newborn was oddly calm, rarely crying or making noise, instead just either staying quiet or sleeping. once he had arrived at the nursery, he ushered the maids and nanny out, wanting to be alone with the child for until he left.

after his meeting with the newborn, it's been said and known that the head of the black agrece would then on often visit his grandchild, usually having a gift for them.

that revelation somewhat shook the other agrece members, but mostly dion, jeremy, and roxana. what did the newborn do to make the head like them so much? they'll unfortunately never get to find out, though.

once the new addition of the family turned old enough, they'd soon enough constantly find themselves stay beside their grandfather's side during meetings, going as far as to join the banquets he went to with their father, aunt, and uncle.

everywhere the head of the black agrece went you would too, it was almost if he gained a shadow that mimicked everything he did. it was almost terrifying to think that the young child could resemble the head that much, even though only in behavior.

it's not unknown that he favored you more than his children, teaching you everything he knew from a young age, as a way for you to both bond and to raise you as a possibly fitting future head if dion ever dies prematurely.

[joongernaut]

hands to yourself

⇢ pairing(s): johnny suh x reader

⇢ genres: SMUT, established relationship, porn w/o plot basically

⇢ warnings: brief alcohol consumption (reader is not drunk though, everything in this is consensual!), d/s themes, public sex-ish (they don't get caught), vague humiliation kink, some crying, vague brat taming, light degradation, physical restraint, vaginal fingering, oral sex, mouth/throat fucking, dry humping, cumshot

⇢ word count: 3690

⇢ author's note: omg it's been a while since i've wrote for johnny, my beloved. i've actually been sitting on this until i had enough time to re-read and edit and finally wrote out the ending and i like how it came out!🫰🏾 (the way it was supposed to be less than 3k words but whatever moving on-) btw the title is based off the song "hands to yourself" by kyle dion!

✧

The sight in front of you could be described in many ways. But your personal favorite collection of words (you thought it up as you watched your boyfriend get dressed) would have to be ‘temptation on legs’.

You were meeting up with a couple of friends at a casual bar and dance club for the evening and to say that Johnny looked as good as sin would be an absolute understatement.

He always looked good. Johnny was a very handsome man after all, and kept himself properly groomed. But seeing him right now, dressed down in a simple black t-shirt and dark blue jeans with his hair slicked back and his face bare of any makeup, you really couldn't help but marvel at how he could make such a simple style look so put-together and sexy.

Of course, your staring didn't go unnoticed.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Johnny questioned, peeking at you from the corner of his eye as he adjusted and tightened the belt around his waist.

He could feel the heat of your gaze on him as he moved around his bedroom to make sure he was ready for tonight. And when he turned his head towards you as you sat atop your shared bed, there you were with a smirk on your face as you blatantly checked him out.

“Like what?” You asked, one leg crossing over the other as you tilted your head to the side innocently. The movement was minuscule, your dress already being on the shorter side so it couldn't have gone up much more, but Johnny’s eyes flickered down at the exposed skin nonetheless before meeting your stare again.

The smirk on your face only widened.

“Like you’re plotting on me.” Johnny replied with a chuckle, turning his attention away from you (much to your dismay) so he could slip his shoes on.

You hummed in response, your lips forming a pout as you looked up towards the ceiling in thought. “And If I said I was…?” Your leg bounced a bit, your eyes looking back down to roam the expanse of Johnny’s broad back and shoulders as he knelt down to tie his shoe laces.

It’s a sight you're used to seeing in a far more intimate state and your thoughts began to wander a bit.

Only a few hours ago, you were clutching onto those same shoulders to keep yourself grounded as Johnny’s lips grazed the most sensitive parts of your body. Your nails dug into the skin of his back as he held you close to his bare chest, almost gently. It was a major contrast from the way his hips met your own, pistoning in and out of your clenching hole to get you to your peak as fast as he could.

Needless to say, it was probably one of your quickest ‘quickie-before-we-leave-the-house’ to date.

“C’mon, I already know what you’re thinking and no,” Johnny spoke up, snapping you out of your thoughts and you finally noticed his presence standing by the bed now, “We gotta go. You can wait until we get back.” He added, cupping the side of your face as his thumb brushed along the apple of your cheek softly.

You narrowed your eyes at him with a pout, hating how he could tell exactly what you were thinking, and he scoffed at the expression before leaning down to kiss it off of your face. “Behave.”

✧

You definitely did not heed Johnny’s warning (not that you took it seriously to begin with) but it was all a part of your plan.

It first started when you had both got into the car.

Johnny was more than okay with being the designated driver between you two for the night so he got into the driver’s seat and made his way to the location of the bar that Mark had sent through text. Only a 13 minute drive, less if there wasn't any traffic or road construction to prolong it.

The first couple of minutes of the car ride went by with the sound of music filling the space as Johnny gave you full reign of the aux cord. Usually you would take this privilege very seriously and curate a particular vibe with your song selections but, with something else in mind, you decided to go with the first random playlist you saw.

Johnny thought nothing of the groovy, sensual song playing at the moment as he hummed along to it. He didn't mind the way your hand had gingerly placed itself on his knee as he steered the wheel. He didn't even budge when you gave the area a small squeeze, an action he would do in your place as well with no sexual undertone to it.

Except your intentions rang clear once your hand slowly traveled upward from Johnny's knee to the inside of his thigh before settling between his legs.

Johnny shot you an almost incredulous look before averting his eyes back to the road quickly. “Didn't I tell you to behave?” He questioned as he adjusted his hold on the wheel. His grip seemed to tighten as he felt your fingertips lightly graze the crotch of his jeans, playing with the zipper idly.

“Yeah, you did but…” You trailed off as you attempted to tug the zipper down, feeling the slight strain of Johnny’s dick against the fabric of his jeans as he started to get a little hard. “Technically, I never agreed to anything.” You watched as his jaw slightly slackened then clenched a second later as you started to drag the zipper down.

You could tell from the action that he was conflicted, thinking about whether to let you continue or not and you almost thought you had won when Johnny allowed you to bring his zipper all the way down.

Before you could make it to the button of his jeans to undo it, however, you were stopped from going any further as he wrapped a hand around your wrist gently and placed it over your lap. “You’re insatiable,” Johnny huffed out with a shake of his head, fixing his pants with one hand before averting his attention back to the road, “Patience, Y/N. Or else.”

You let out a huff of your own before turning your attention back to your phone, swallowing down the taste of defeat yet again.

✧

That had technically been your second warning.

You relented your advances in the car (not without a bratty remark here and there that only amused Johnny further) and made it to the bar without any other incident. You were ‘good’ for the remainder of the drive there.

Now inside of the club was a different story.

Finding Mark was rather easy despite his horrible directions and clear lack of knowledge of the layout of the club, quickly being spotted at the end of the bar on the other side of the room with the rest of the guys. Already having a few shots waiting for you two to arrive you decided to catch up with a couple of your own before attaching yourself to Johnny’s arm.

“I wanna dance.” You said into his ear over the booming music after 30 minutes or so of conversation. Some of the other guys had the same idea as they started to disperse into the crowd with plans of meeting back up within the hour.

“Lead the way, baby.” Johnny said as he looked down at you with a smile, allowing you to tug him by the bicep to the dance floor where the real fun would start.

As soon as you got within the mix of people crowding the dance floor, you turned until your back was pressed flush against Johnny’s chest as he placed his hands gingerly onto your hips.

Nothing out of the ordinary, plenty of the other club-goers were dancing in similar positions and moving along to the music all seemingly in their own little worlds.

It wasn't lost on Johnny that you would be more bold with your touchiness, taking into consideration the nature of your dancing. So, when your arms came up behind you so you could place your hands on the back of his neck as you pressed your ass against him firmly, he simply tightened his hold on your hips and began to sway with your movements.

You circled your hips, he followed. You bent over slightly with an arch in your back, he followed. You ground against him, he ground back. At this point, you were only riling yourself up more the longer you two danced and teased each other. But at least you weren't the only one affected by it.

“Keep it up, baby,” Johnny whispered, his voice going down an octave as he breathed into your ear huskily, “And I promise we won’t make it home.”

A shiver went down your spine at the implication of his words. And then you realized, with satisfaction, that you had him right where you wanted him.

You detached your hands from the back of Johnny’s neck before going to his hands that were still situated on your hips, grasping them as you guided his touch from your sides to the front of your skirt.

Almost in slow motion, you moved his hands down until they reached the bottom of the material where the skirt stopped and your supple thighs began. You crooked your neck back and to the side to get a good look at your boyfriend, meeting his intense stare as you shot him a lazy smirk. “Promise?” You purred, leading his hands between your legs while causing the skirt to inch higher up the closer he got to your center.

Johnny’s eyes flickered around the two of you. This section of the dance floor, much like the rest of the club, had been rather dark despite the dim strobe lights overhead. You were pretty much surrounded by people but they were still unaware of your existence or at least didn't care enough to pay attention to what you were doing.

Yet the mere thought of you so willing and ready to nearly expose yourself, the possibility of people nearby catching you just so Johnny would touch you and feel just how needy you were, made him seethe in anger while simultaneously stirring his cock awake.

It only took a matter of seconds for Johnny to free his hands from you, turning you around to face him with a familiar glint in his eye. “We’re leaving.” He said plainly, the underlying tone in his voice leaving no room for discussion or argument.

That didn't mean you wouldn't retort back, though.

“But we literally just got here,” You pointed out, trying to bite back a smile as Johnny’s eyes narrowed down at you dangerously. “Oh, what? You can't wait?” You taunted him further, knowingly provoking him to react the way you wanted him to.

“Do you really wanna do that? Because I can tell you right now that as soon as we step out of this club, you're gonna get it.” Johnny said, taking a step closer to stare down at you and the action made you a bit nervous as he now towered over you. It reminded you of how easy it was for him to slip into that intimidating role and you couldn't help but feel turned on by it.

“Then let's go.”

✧

Safe to say, no more warnings were going to be given to you. Johnny made it clear that you were to behave yourself and you would get what you wanted, exactly how you wanted it when you got home at the end of the night.

But you didn't listen. And now you were being punished.

The muscles in your arms started to burn the longer Johnny held them above your head with one of his hands, a tight grip around both of your wrists pressing them into the brick wall of the alleyway outside of the club’s back exit. People rarely used it in favor of the front exit or the one at the side and, thankfully, no security was out and about since they were needed more at the entrance and inside of the actual club.

Johnny’s other hand had been between your legs, two fingers deep inside of your pussy at a complete standstill as his thumb idly played with your clit. Every pass over the sensitive bud made you clench around him and squirm, straining against the hold he had on you. It had been well over 20 minutes by now that he had you in this position and you didn't know what ached more, your arms or your core.

“John-Johnny, please–” You tried to speak, only to earn a harsh press against your clit as he cruelly curled his fingers. Johnny found your sweet spot with ease and you gasped at the amount of pressure he applied to it as his thumb began to move over your clit at a quick pace. “Johnny, please what?” He said mockingly, leaning into your face to brush his lips against yours but not enough to kiss you. You whined when he pulled away, chuckling darkly as his fingers started to pump into you unexpectedly fast.

You couldn't help the involuntary movement of your hips as you attempted to fuck yourself on his fingers despite feeling like you wanted to move away with how on edge and overstimulated you were. You could feel the coil in your stomach tightening fast from being edged so slowly up until this point. As your orgasm approached closer, you started to babble incoherently.

“You’re gonna make me cum, you’re gonna make me cum! Please, please– fuck!” You nearly screamed out loud when Johnny abruptly took his fingers out of you leaving you empty and your hole clenching around nothing. Your body shook at being edged so close to release once again, the feeling of your orgasm starting to fizzle out enough to make your eyes tear up.

“You didn't listen to me. Why should I listen to you?” Johnny questioned with a quirk of his eyebrow. Your chest heaved slightly as you attempted to slow your breathing, inhaling shakily as Johnny’s fingers slid through your soaked folds with a featherlight touch. It simply wasn't enough.

“M’sorry, okay? Sorry! P-please, I’ll do a-anything!” You pleaded, a few tears slipping from the corners of your eyes. Johnny cooed at this as he wiped away the thin, wet streaks off your cheeks with his thumbs before wiping the saltiness on his tongue. “Anything?” Johnny hummed, looking down at you in mild curiosity.

Without thinking, and much to Johnny’s surprise, you started to lower yourself as much as you could with his hold still locked around your wrists. Your back slid against layers of the brick wall until you were crouched down at an angle that would surely leave your knees feeling some type of way tomorrow.

“Y/N, you really don't have to–”

“I want to. I want it. Please.”

And despite his hesitance at first, paired with the reminder that you hadn't really drank enough to get drunk and were at most a little bit tipsy, Johnny was quick to cave in.

He went to let go of both of your wrists briefly so he could undo his pants until you reached out to stop him. “Can we… stay in the position we were in before?” You mumbled softly, face warming up as he stared down at you. “Ah,” Johnny mused out as he carefully looked over your face before a smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth, “You want me to use your mouth, baby? I can do that.”

You let out a small whimper at his words and he re-pinned your wrists with one hand this time as his other started to undo the button of his jeans and unzip them. Johnny pushed them down along with his boxers enough to free his dick from its confines, the articles of clothing bunching up around his taut upper thighs and cupping his balls.

Your thighs squeezed together as your eyes flickered from the sight in front of you up to Johnny as he used his free hand to stroke himself a few times. “Tap me if you need to breathe or need me to stop.” He grunted, bringing his leaking tip to your lips as he lightly smacked your bottom lip with it to get your mouth to open up.

Immediately, your jaw slackened as your tongue lolled out and Johnny wasted no time in sliding himself in. With the slight force of his thrust, the back of your head was now pressed against the brick wall rendering you nearly immobile as Johnny began to fuck your mouth earnestly. “You always get what you want in the end, huh? Little brat.” He laughed breathlessly then groaned out when you moaned around him, sending vibrations through his cock.

Every part of your body felt tense and like it was on fire. From your arms being held up for so long and the crouched position you were in to the stretch of your mouth from the girth of Johnny being stuffed inside of your mouth, your body felt as if it were being pushed to its limit (even though that wasn't entirely the case).

But it felt so good. The deeper he lodged himself, almost hitting the back of your throat and making you gag slightly, the fuzzier your head got. You tried to widen your mouth a bit to fit more of Johnny inside as you mindlessly started to lick the underside of his cock. The shaky breath he let out only fueled you further and you started to bob your head along with his thrusts despite the gagging.

“Fuck, that’s good. You’re doing so good for me.” Johnny praised earning another moan from you, muffled by his ministrations. You wanted to rub your thighs together to alleviate some of the aching between your legs but with the position you were in it was almost impossible to do it by yourself.

Johnny seemed to notice your predicament, feeling your whimpers around him as your thighs shifted to get any angle that would help. He moved his leg forward until it was lodged between your thighs, up under your slightly raised skirt, and pressed right up against your core making you jolt.

“I shouldn't even be doing this since this should be a punishment,” Johnny huffed, the feeling of your panties damp under your skirt against his leg and more than likely sticking to your lower lips making his cock twitch, “But if you’re gonna get off, this is the only way I’ll allow you to do it.”

A surge of heat ran throughout your entire body, a twinge of embarrassment at essentially being told to grind against the man’s leg like some kind of dog in heat. But more than anything, you felt increasingly turned on by the degrading treatment. It was something you would store in the back of your mind to talk to Johnny about later.

As for right now, you adjusted yourself to get a good angle for your clit to get the right amount of friction before moving your hips forward at an unsteady yet decent pace. Johnny started to thrust into your mouth again at the same time as you began to hump his leg with more vigor.

“That’s it, baby, make yourself feel good.” Johnny moaned lowly, the sight below him only bringing him closer to his release as his thrusts became sloppier. Your jaw was a little more than aching now but you wanted to power through it, bobbing your head again while the movement of your hips grew faster.

“Almost there. God, fuck, your mouth… I’m close,” Johnny’s grip around your wrists tightened as a particularly hard thrust made you gag, constricting your throat around him briefly. It was enough to send him over the edge though as he pulled out of your mouth quickly before jerking himself off, only a few tugs of his cock being needed before white ropes covered the lower half of your face and chin.

You shuddered as your own orgasm ripped through you, thighs clamping around Johnny’s leg to ride the rest of your high out for a few seconds until you were sure you’d go into the painful side of overstimulation.

You would have slumped forward onto your knees from the overexertion of your muscles if it weren't for Johnny standing in front of you. He had let go of your wrists finally, rubbing them gently as he helped you up from your position against the wall on wobbly legs. “You alright?” He questioned as he watched you stretch your arms and legs, cracking a few bones, before nodding with a lop-sided smile.

Johnny smiled back lovingly, cupping your cheeks as he looked into your eyes and then scanned over your face taking in the mess he had made. His finger ran through and wiped the remnants of his cum off of your skin, collecting it all before pressing the digit to your lips. You opened your mouth to allow him to press it down onto your tongue before sucking it clean and as you were about to swallow, he pressed his lips against yours and snaked his tongue inside for a messy kiss.

“We’re still going home, right?” You asked with a wiggle of your eyebrow once he detached from your lips, earning a sigh from the man as he adjusted his pants and fixed himself. “Yes, we’re still going home, I’ll text Mark and let him know,” Johnny said as his arm wrapped around your waist, preparing mentally for the complaints that he’d get once the message would be sent. “I need to invest in some handcuffs for you, I swear. These hands get you in trouble more often than not.”

A wide grin spread across your face as you leaned into Johnny’s side, leading the two of you down and out of the alleyway. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

HEY HEY CAN I REQUEST INTIMACY PROMPT ONE WITH BILLY BATSON SJJSBDJS PLEASE AND THANK YOU

Intimacy prompt #1: hugging them from behind, laying their heads on the other shoulder.

It wasn’t hard to find Billy when he was cursing up a storm from his place in the living room alongside Eugene, who was blazing through the level without much hassle, where as Billy was struggling to get through his whilst trying to not get shot or blown up like his past two attempts.

However the game they were playing wasn’t known to be merciful for first time players as Billy’s character was subsequently killed as his side of the television became a shade of blood red as the bold lettering of ‘you died’ flashed on screen with the ‘restart level’ and ‘go back to main menu’ were sprawled beneath it in smaller, missable lettering. Billy sighed defeatedly as he put down the controller onto the coffee table, taking the headphone from his head before placing them next to the controller, as he hauled himself out of his armchair muttering about getting a drink from the fridge.

‘Don’t be so hard on yourself Billy,’ you told him as you joined him in the kitchen, ignoring the fact that you heard him scoff, ‘you’ll get the hang of it in due time and soon you’ll be a pro like Eugene.’ You gestured back to the living room, where Eugene had already made it past the last level of the game, was now watching the final cinematic cutscene play out whilst nursing his cramped hands. ‘Don’t fake sympathy for me y/n, I know I’m shit and I doubt I’ll be able to get on Eugene’s level of expertise in gaming.’ Billy replied, taking a sip from his drink as his gaze was firmly lock on the window just over the kitchen sink, that looked out into back garden; Still a tad upset over his amateur loss.

You sighed, already having expected this typical response from him, and moved across the room to cage your arms over his chest, pausing briefly when his muscles stiffened be so your touch before relaxing again as you then tested your head comfortably on his shoulder, where you nuzzled his cheek. ‘What will make you feel better then hmm?’ You asked him softly, your thumbs subconsciously rubbing his sides in reassurance. Wanting nothing more then to provide him a safe place to open up and be comfortable in doing so.

Billy sighed, putting his bottle of fizzy drink down on the counter to put his hands over your own, rubbing the back of them out of habit. ‘I’d like it if you kept holding me like this a little while longer.’ He said, feeling a tad embarrassed of being so open about how he felt after repressing his emotions for so long, he was still a little rusty but with your help Billy had been able to become a lot more accepting of letting others lending him their aid, without feeling as though it was all just transactional. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to move to somewhere more comfortable?’ Billy’s hands tightening on yours when he felt them began to pull away, bringing them back to where they once were.

‘No, standing here with you is fine enough for me.’ He replied in a soft tone. A smile spread across your lips as you made yourself more comfortable by pressing yourself further into his back, arms holding onto him tight. ‘Okay, don’t blame me when your feet start to ache from standing here for too long, or when Freddy starts belting his rendition of ‘my heart will go on’ by Celine Dion.’ You warned Billy playfully as he could only chuckle, moving his head so he could press a kiss to your forehead, whispering against it, ‘I’ll take my chances.’

[cooki3face]

what will your marriage be like 💍

I’d been thinking about how much humans fight and disagree but the one thing we have in common is the love we share for things around us. For people in our lives. We have wars, we fall into different categories politically, we have different souls purposes, we have different needs, different desires. But most often, what we do share, what we all desire is to love and to be loved. So anyways, here’s the reading for today. I’m working on trying to crimp out two readings a day or within the week.

***

i.

channelled music 🎵:

There Is Something on Your Mind- Big Jay McNeely

Misty- Ella Fitzgerald

At Last- Beyoncé’s cover from the Cadillac record’s soundtrack

I Wonder Why- Dion & The Belmonts

Stormy Weather- Etta James

A Sunday Kind Of Love- Etta James

Channeled locations 📍: Vancouver, New Orleans, San Francisco, New York city, Maine, South Carolina, Seattle

-

I see this being a marriage with someone you knew in the past whom you had a true love with that you may have had to walk away from or put down for a while in the name of growth or internal alignment. Like right person wrong time. Of course that doesn’t exist spiritually because all the time is the right time, divine timing is always right but you know what I mean. I see happiness and genuine joy within this marriage with this person. I see two people celebrating their marriage and their love and what it took to get them there every single day of their lives together like you know that drake song where he says “it might not mean nothing to y’all, but understand nothing was done for me, so I don’t plan on stopping at all, I want this sh*t forever.” The two of you put a lot of work in for yourselves for this connection, this connection was divinely orchestrated. All the pain, all the hardship, all the separation was for the greater good so you guys can grow and have the divine love you wanted.

Everyone’s gonna be looking at the two of you. I see you guys glowing, I see the two of you rising to success in each-others love and in each-others presence. There’s so much self love and confidence between the two of you. It’s giving power couple, it’s giving when two people in a connection are very attractive and have a lot going for themselves. Everyone wants to look at them, everyone wants in on their connection and the love they share, everyone aspires to have that one day. I’m hearing Beyoncé, “so many people that I know, they just tryna touch ya. Kiss up, and rub up, and feel up on ya. Give you some time to prove that I can trust you again I’m gonna kiss up, and rub up, and feel up, kiss up, and rub up and feel up on ya”

I get heavy feminine energy within this group. Some of you are involved with a masculine or this masculine from your past is someone who is very desired or that people will desire even more when you guys come together and wed. This masculine could’ve been someone who clung to romantic/sexual company in his past for some time out of insecurity with me getting something from Beyoncé’s lyrics about getting time to prove she can trust someone again so she can really love on them and I think that’s kind of the energy of this connection. The two of you rising out of karmic cycles and habits and finally growing up and coming out of the storm to be the people you two need for each other and being able to share the most divine love and forgive the past and have peace.

Yea, the king of cups is coming out, this is my favorite masculine in tarot. This is a masculine whose caring and compassionate and loving. Emotionally in tune, in connection with his own inner feminine. He’s the embodiment of a healed water sign masc lover in my opinion. Some of you could want a water sign partner or have water in your own chart and need someone who can appeal to your needs in that way. And this is going to be the relationship, open, caring, gentle, and supportive and this person will be that as well. I see this marriage or this union being a personal celebration for you pile one, maybe even for your significant other as well. You guys have worked so hard and this is your reward or your personal idea of success and fulfillment to be with this person and share a life with eachother.

All the stagnancy, all the pain, will be gone from your lives and from this connection. You guys struggled individually and as a collective and I hear spirit saying that now you deserve someone to be happy and abundant with. This person is gonna be really good in bed as well, their going to keep you over the top satisfied. I see you guys having very passionate and loving s*x lives and maybe even potentially creating a large family together. Like if you’ve ever seen queen Charlotte where she’s telling her kids that her and George created all the many children they had all by themselves without any help. You guys give queen Charlotte and king George vibes. Love is so deep and real and unconditional despite obstacles or obvious flaws within one another. You love eachother through it all. Regardless of it all and that’s all that matters. Go watch queen Charlotte on Netflix if you haven’t man. Ugh. It’s so good.

Yess, this ten of Pentacles upright here speaking of wealth, long term success, and family !!! I see you guys becoming very wealthy together as well, being able to give your children and yourselves good, long, prosperous lives. So beautiful. You and this person may end up having a lot of children together as well. I see you guys getting to work. Someone carries the energy of the empress, or the divine mother here. You could have a cancer moon or some prominent cancer placements in your chart. This person is gonna load you up, keep you pregnant like clock work. Everyone is gonna be tired of y’all like damn do you really need another baby shower this year too.

Overall success and abundance with this ace of pentacles proud and upright. Very good.

***

ii.

channeled music 🎵:

Drunk In Love- Beyoncé

Adorn- Miguel

Tennessee Whiskey - Chris Stapleton

Ooo Baby Baby- Smokey Robinson & the miracles

channeled locations 📍: Texas, Little Rock Arkansas, California, Alabama, Connecticut, North Dakota, New Hampshire, Georgia, Philadelphia, Country sides and suburbs,, Canada

-

You may meet this person at a rough time in your life or at a time where you may have isolated yourself from others or stepped into some sort of hermit mode. This could be after some sort of heart break or some type of significant life experience that causes a lot of insecurity and self limiting beliefs to come to the surface to be purged or be removed. A dark night of the soul or some sort of right of passage towards your ascension with this eight of swords upright speaking of negative thoughts and imposed restriction here. I’m getting this pain or this isolation and hurt may be caused by your spouse or your significant other. But there’s a lot of change and transformation here with the death card upright. Cycles ending. There’s a lot of mixed energy here for this part of the collective. I’m getting some of you may be coming out of rough relationships and being burned repeatedly in love and mistreated and pushed into a path of learning and healing and some of you may end up marrying someone or are married to someone who doesn’t have good intentions towards you and that you may separate from and grow into yourselves because of.

You may have an astrology placements that indicate complications and love and long term relationships. You could potentially get married early and get divorced due to turbulence or general just lack of happiness and harmony within your marriage. But whatever this downfall is or whatever this drama or turbulence is will lead you down the path of releasing limiting self beliefs and embarking on your own personal spiritual journey and path to self love which will bring in a greater love and a true love for you later in life when the time is right here. This person that you’ll find yourself married or committed to in the beginning, some type of truth will come out about them that will lead to this not working out.

But, this new love that blossom and come from your ending in your first connection or marriage will further propel you into soul searching and really finding out who you are and becoming secure in yourself here. This is going to be someone whose going to benefit you, whose going to compliment you and push you to be a better person and continue to heal and improve. You could have similar chart placements as Ariana grande or relate to her love life in some way. She’s known for having somewhat of a turbulent love life or to have issues within her personal relationships.

***

iii.

channeled music 🎵:

Valerie - Amy winehouse

Beggin’ - Maneskin

Hey ya - outkast

Milk - Kings of Leon

Creep - Radiohead

Cherry wine - Hozier

Ho Hey - The Lumineers

channeled locations 📍: Brooklyn, Chicago, San Diego, San Francisco, Colorado, Oregon, St. Helens Oregon, Washington, New York City, Long Beach California

-

I’m getting that some of your are masculine energies, masculine energy dominant or are literally men lol. I keep hearing over and over the opening lyrics to Hey ya by OutKast.

The song Hey Ya is a really chaotic and high energy song we all know that but there’s an artist on TikTok who has a beautiful soft cover of the song and i feel like it really captures the energy I’m getting from these lyrics. Link to her TikTok.

You could marry someone you feel really anxious or worried about your connection with. I hear someone worried about losing their person or losing this person in particular. Many of you will marry someone you know already or someone who plays a massive part in your life or who shaped what love means and what love meant for you. Spirit is telling me that this person and this connection was given to you to to you to test your strength and push you to become the person you were meant to be become all along because this person inspires you to grow and go the extra mile in life.

This person gives you hope, you may feel as though your purpose in life is to love this person because they inspire you so heavily. This person may trigger some sort of spiritual awakening for you or lead you down a journey of self discovery and soul searching as well. I see this person teaching you and allowing you to release your fears and open up your heart. Someone’s heart chakra could be blocked or has been closed off for a long time due to trauma and other issues. This marriage with this person will be full of clear communication, in depth conversations, and clear and healthy boundaries and ideas. This person could create a safe space for you or a safe environment. I see you and this person becoming an example of what a harmonious and healthy relationship is meant to look like. You out of anybody knows what it feels like to be in unhealthy relationships or have a turbulent and draining relationship dynamic with someone I’m hearing and this is not that. This relationship will be a breath of fresh air for you.

I see you being someone who is anxious in energy or is prone to pessimistic ideas or thinking due to your anxiety as well. Like the second something positive happens with this person especially if you know this person already your mind finds a way to push you away from them out of fear of becoming too comfortable or too vulnerable and then leaving you or pulling away from you but I don’t see this with this person with the four of wands upright. This person loves you unconditionally, you can’t lose something that’s unconditionally. That’s gentle and that doesn’t judge you or intend to hurt you the way that people may have in the past.

I’m hearing it took someone a while to come forward and take the leap of faith to pursue this relationship because they couldn’t decide if they were worth this persons love and time or if they were strong enough to handle this person rejecting you or walking away from you because you felt that they would and that they would wake up one day and realize that they don’t want you anymore or feel burdened by you. But I see you looking at this connection when you guys are married and the rough part of the push and pull that you feel in regards to this person blows over and you being proud and abundant because this relationship is long term, steady, and giving.

This person is made for you, your relationship and connection is very divinely protected and orchestrated pile three. And all of this will be revealed to you more and more as years progress within this marriage here. You and this person are incredibly connected on an intuitive and spiritual level you share so much love and compassion for one another as well. You think yourself less than this person or someone who doesn’t deserve this persons love and presence and that’s simply not true. I hear spirit saying if anyone deserves this person, if anyone is made for this person, if anyone deserves a love or connection like this it’s you.

**

That’s it, lol I might take a break from love readings for a moment because the collective is very steady and my readings can often be repetitive but many of people within the collective are about to get married or be in the most divine love within their life. A good amount of the collective is still learning what love means and it may take them a while to find that but otherwise everyone is exactly where they’re meant to be. 💕

[technovillain]

~PSYCHIC GENETICS~

So I keep trying to think about how genetics would work regarding someone being a psychic or not. It's obviously not super common to be a psychic but probably more common than people might expect in the world with stigma against it. I'm thinking like left-handed type percentage maybe which is around 10% of people.

But I'm using blue eyes as a reference point regarding looking into genotypes for psychic brain activity and I think I can make that work with that headcanon because around 8-10% of people have blue eyes.

So here's my concept for the psychic genotypes and phenotypes and how it plays into my character headcanons....(and I guess I'll see if any of my current headcanons are disproved by this theory too I guess lol!) Let me bust out some Punnett Squares and interpret the results. (I know that realistically to explain it better it wouldn't be determined by a single trait for the genotype and that a multi-trait explanation could probably type the phenotypes I created in a much more comprehensive way but I'd rather just go basic for right now ^_^)

Okay so here's the outcome of a homozygous nonpsychic and a homozygous psychic. All heterozygous outcomes. I choose to believe that the heterozygous outcomes can present in a number of ways, including:

Completely under-the-radar psychic presence that the individual is fully unaware of, functionally nonpsychic

Outright psychic with a psychic awakening from a young age like a homozygous psychic would typically have

"Weaker" psychics or psychics with a more limited skillset

"Spiritual" type individuals with some sort of psychic awareness without the outright presence of psychic "powers"

I personally think that the "strength" of a psychic's power has something to do with lineage, and not necessarily whether the genotype is purebred recessive for the psychic phenotype.

So here's an example with my headcanons for the Aquato lineage.

Zalto - the more "spiritual awareness" type psychic presence without actual powers

Mithra - fully realized psychic with very strong powers including visions

Lucrecia - fully realized psychic from a young age

Marona - functionally nonpsychic

Lazarus - fully nonpsychic

Augustus - limited skillset psychic / possibly just untrained

I like to assume that both of Donatella's parents are fully nonpsychic. This puts the kids' respective genotypes and phenotypes as:

Dion [NN] - fully nonpsychic

Frazie [Nn] - outright psychic

Razputin [Nn] - outright psychic

Mirtala [NN] - fully nonpsychic

Queepie [Nn} - psychic with limited skillset, fully unaware of psychic status

With the 50/50 probability, 3/5 kids with psychic presenting traits lines up pretty well!

But touching back on what I said about the intensity of the psychic abilities one may have based on lineage, I would draw it back to the previous homozygous genotype carrier of the family. Letting that person's psychic strength sort of have a determining factor on what the cap of their lineage's power might be. So for example I headcanon Mithra as being a very powerful psychic, and that was passed down to Lucrecia as being vey powerful. Marona wasn't a strong psychic, Augustus had a higher level of psychic activity than her, Frazie has about the same level as Augustus, and Razputin, while having the mixed genotype, meets the same level as his origin point Mithra.

Just for funsies here's some of my other psychic geno- and phenotype headcanons :]

Loboto's mother had the recessive psychic gene and didn't know it as she was the "functionally nonpsychic" genotype. She would be disgusted to know this about herself👍👍 Loboto had the psychic phenotype with a young awakening but due to his procedure cannot reach the cap of power he would have been able to otherwise, and now has a very limited skillset, lending mostly to telekinesis upon his gradual recovery

Morry's father was fully nonpsychic [NN] and his mother had a strange spiritual awareness that occasionally allowed her to accurately predict the future or have suspiciously accurate "gut feelings" [Nn]. Both of Morry's brothers are NN and he is Nn.

Sasha's parents were both Nn and functionally nonpsychic, and Sasha is nn.

Both of the Natividad sisters' parents are the nn genotype and consequently so are the daughters.

(Referencing my headcanon Zanotto family tree) Tia & Teddy were both Nn and functionally nonpsychic, Bob is fully psychic nn, Laurel was Nn and functionally nonpsychic, Jonny was Nn which explained his prophetic visions, Truman is nn, Delphine is NN, Lili is Nn.

Okay that's all for now, if you read my very long and incredible nerdy post then I appreciate it!!! And if you have headcanons about genetics and psychics please tell me abt them!!! Genetics is one of my big burner interests that I will occasionally remember and try to apply to fiction lol! ( I really should do more research on it though because my understanding of it all is still a bit elementary tbqh )

[euroquision]

No, Iceland is not up to "dirty political tricks" and neither is Bashar Murad

Hey lovely people, spirits, souls, and ghouls of Tumblr! To those of you who don't follow me on TikTok, there's a video I made just yesterday concerning Iceland (the lil Eurovision Country that Could!), Israel, a certain Irish TikTok-er with impressively horrible media literacy, and our dearest friend Bashar Murad. If you're not on TikTok, that's wonderful and dear god you don't need to subject yourself to that app. Instead, I wanted to make a post that explains what's going on, what's being said, and why one (1) Palestinian is not responsible for the aforementioned "dirty" political tricks.

If you're following Eurovision or just Bashar Murad himself, consider giving this a read.

So let's begin! First: who's calling Bashar Murad/Iceland "dirty"? Where am I getting that word from and why is it in quotes? That's because: it IS a quote! Buck wild, I know. This is a quote from the TikTok account AllThingsAdam.ie, run by the Irish Eurovision...fan? Podcast-haver? Idk, I'm not saying "journalist" because if I wanted to have a laugh, I would just watch the Unicorn edit I made a couple months ago. Did I share that here yet? Just in case, here it is:

Never fails to make me smile. Great edit, Me! Anyway, back on topic: Adam McCallig is a person with a TikTok account that has half a million followers, he has a podcast where he's interviewed Eurovision and NF artists, so he's definitely a "known figure" to a certain point. I can't sit here and say he's some random troll, y'know? So, in a TikTok that has since been deleted from his page, he accuses Iceland of being up to "dirty political Eurovision 2024 tricks." I created a TikTok where I briefly show this video, and here's a link to that! You can watch that for my condensed version of everything I'm talking about here, but this Tumblr post is for those who like reading what I have to say in longer form. Here's that video:

Since Adam's video is now "gone," I will do my best and summarize what he stated with whatever journalistic integrity I have. First: you hear him open the video with the word "dirty." So no one can say I'm putting words in his mouth -- no no, these are lifted from the source material, honey. Next, he goes on to claim that Bashar "has no connection to Iceland whatsoever." As much as Adam wants this to be true, it just...isn't?? Like, let's ignore Bashar's longtime collaborations with HATARI. Instead, let's look at him literally performing on the Songvakeppnin stage in the 2020 NF season:

Additionally, the claim "Bashar has no connection to Iceland" rings very hollow not only when we know this claim is false, but it's not one Adam brings up about the many artists trying to represent a country other than their own in the 2024 NF season. Adam says he "knows that countries can let artists from whatever country represent them," but he hasn't made any videos about Marcus & Martinus (Norwegian) competing in Sweden's National Final. Tali (Israeli-born) is representing Luxembourg this year, and MEGARA (Spanish) are representing San Marino. "Foreign" artists representing any country in ESC is FAR from new, and if it were a punishable offense, Celine Dion would just have to settle for being Canadian.

However, as soon as Bashar Murad takes the stage and the colors of the Palestinian flag are visible, Adam is ready to take to TikTok and say "dirty political tricks" are at play -- before deleting it later, like I mentioned. In fact, not only did he delete it! Mere hours before writing this post, I used my second TT account to peep his page and he posted a video saying "One of these four songs should represent Iceland in Eurovision!" and showed snippets of four songs competing in the Icelandic NF Grand Finale, which takes place on Saturday the 2nd of March. However: there aren't four songs competing to win for Iceland. There's five. Which four did he show? The fours songs that AREN'T Bashar Murad. And yet, he's the one being dirty in all this? Adam, sweetie, the dirty call is coming from inside the dirty house.

Now, you might wonder if Adam has kept this kind of energy when talking about Israel's Eurovision participation, which at time of writing is still very much up in the air. But thing is: he doesn't. At least, not really. Adam has posted a video condemning the alleged song that Israel is trying to submit to Eurovision titled "October Rain." I won't go too deep into that -- please follow @/IsraelBreaksRules on Twitter for more details on this!! But basically, what Adam is attempting to do is play some sort of "political centrist" take on Eurovision, while simultaneously trying to say "Keep politics OUT of Eurovision!!" And at the end of his deleted video, Adam claimed that while "what happened in Gaza is terrible," Iceland is just as guilty for playing political tricks as Israel might be, and Bashar Murad's participation is just as bad.

Two things wrong with that statement, Adam. One: It's not what "happened" in Gaza. It's not past tense. It's on-going. It hasn't stopped. That's actually -- believe it or not -- WHY WE'RE STILL HERE. And two: JUST AS BAD?? REALLY??

If you watched my TikTok response that I shared the link to, you'll have seen the evidence I shared. But I wanna share them again just so you all can clearly see how the "political tricks" at play this year are not on the part of Iceland, nor would they be "just as bad." Where do we begin? Maybe we could begin with the fact that "Wild West," Bashar's song, has been spammed with negative reviews by anti-Palestinian ESC fans. This is mathematically observable when you notice "Wild West" has roughly THREE TIMES as many reviews as the other Icelandic NF songs on EurovisionWorld.com. You can check them out here and see the numbers yourself.

But it doesn't stop at bad reviews. Israeli ESC fans have begun a campaign to mass vote against Bashar, specifically for Hera Bjork, one of the four other competitors in Iceland's final on Saturday. This is really funny to me though because if Bashar doesn't win, it should totally be Sigga Ozk, right? GO TIFFANY!!! Anyway, I digress. A link to an article covering this voting campaign can be found here!

Not only is Bashar facing backlash, hate, and organized efforts AGAINST his participation, Israel is funneling money and resources into Facebook ads that look like this, claiming to shape the narrative:

...as well as filming "comedy" "sketches" like this "song" called...

*deep existential sigh* "Jews Pua" Link to that video here, if you can stand three minutes of awful propaganda containing just the right combination of shitty, easy rhymes and enough pinkwashing to put "Cops at Pride!" to shame. All of this should make it VERY clear to anyone observing this situation as a whole that the political tricks at play are NOT being done equally from everyone involved. Dare I boldly say: this shit is INCREDIBLY ONE-SIDED and we need to remind ourselves of the awful reality that is Israel's access to the money, ability, and audience of their "dirty political tricks" more so than Bashar Murad or Iceland ever could.

Lastly, let's just acknowledge the racism-shaped elephant in the room. Now, I as a white American am not here to play "Racism Police." That will never be the case. What I am about to say applies to the greater conversation, and it's not just an "Adam" problem. It's a problem we see happen when one (1) Palestinian decides to exist and write a song, and the way the world has been built around us conditions us to see that and scream "dirty political trickery afoot!!" Truly, ask yourself is this is "equal" in any way shape or form, as Adam posited. Adam and people like him will treat Iceland and Israel as equal, but that doesn't automatically make them "equal."

We are living in a world where Israel is currently being sued for genocide. That is not an exaggeration, it's just something we can all see and talk about. Israel is a country that has the money, platform, and bias of the most powerful countries of the world to not be held to the same standards of responsibility for the horrible things they're doing, nor is my own country being properly held accountable for PAYING for these things they're doing. Race is something used as a tool to identify oppressed peoples not just because it's discriminatory, but it tells people who aren't part of that group that people like Bashar Murad are simply political just by existing. Nowhere does Adam mention that Bashar and his song "Wild West" are about his journey as an artist having to leave his home and travel thousands of miles to the global "west" to even have a chance of representing Iceland (not Palestine, not Gaza, just Iceland) in Eurovision while the country responsible for the death of his people are facing MUCH less scrutiny from the Eurovision powers that be, let alone Irish TikTok accounts with re: shitty media literacy skills.

My final message to you is this: if you're someone paying attention to Eurovision and you maybe feel confused or overwhelmed by Israel, Iceland, Bashar, etc. etc. etc., here's what I want to tell you:

This is not an equal game. Iceland/Bashar are nowhere near on the same level as Israel and the money/access they have to GLOBAL levels of propaganda. Israel, in fact, verbally confirms how they want to use Eurovision to "shape the narrative" which is far dirtier, far more political than just the song "Wild West." Moreover, thinking that treating Eurovision as apolitical or that EVERYONE deserves the SAME level of EQUAL scrutiny only helps Israel at the end of the day. The things they've done, are doing, and hope to do are representative of tens of thousands of people they've killed in the last few months alone. Would you genuinely look at Bashar Murad trying to represent Iceland and say "Yep, these two things are the same"? My hope is that you wouldn't, but people like Adam clearly do.

Don't be like Adam. Don't play this weak-ass centrism card that ultimately helps no one and just makes it easier for people to shift blame, suspicion, or anger towards Bashar Murad. This is not the fight being had right now, and don't let it waste your time. Focus on what and who matters, which is obviously: the country doing genocide and wants us all to be chill with that.

PS. As a personal recommendation, "Wild West" and "Into the Atmosphere" are my two favs to win for Iceland, so def go gives those a stream. And while you're at it, let Bashar himself take you on a visual journey that might help you understand his message a bit better.

Much love you all. Thank you for being here. EuroQuision out.

[cosmic-metanoia]

Masculinity Concepts in FFXVI

***Spoilers for Final Fantasy 16***

I wanted to focus on the concept of masculinity in Final Fantasy XVI.

I really love how we see different aspects of masculinity portrayed in the characters. I won't go over every male character in the game but I'll mostly focus on the Dominants along with some side characters.

*Clive - I have a whole character analysis post dedicated to him but to highlight a couple points - he has many wonderful qualities that make him very admirable not just as a man but as a person. Despite his handsome looks that we all know and love, he has a surprising softness inside him and wears his emotions on his sleeve at times especially when it comes to Jill. We see moments when he bares his soul and weeps out of sorrow or joy which makes him more masculine, in my opinion, not less.

*Joshua - His masculinity is incredibly refreshing as it is the complete opposite of toxic masculinity. His face has soft and almost feminine-like features. He may have spent his young life being physically frail but he demonstrates a fiery strong spirit. He has this honest chivalry to him yet views everyone as equals and has a gift for poetic words as a result his study of books. He is merciful and incredibly kind but is unafraid to demonstrate his prowess on the battlefield like his older brother.

*Cid - Now this guy is your classic smokin' cowboy archetype but with MUCH better attitude. He oozes masculine charm, wit, and charisma but he uses it for the betterment of society and to persuade others to join his revolutionary cause. But his motives are candid and straightforward. I love how he didn't exist just to flirt, be eye candy, or simply be the comic relief. He becomes the mentor whose legacy lives on through Clive and bonds the hideaway folks into a real family.

*Dion - He IS the reason why Sanbreque was able to tip the scales to its favor - because he is the powerful Dominant of Bahamut. He is the prince but he climbed the ranks and earned the respect of his elite dragoons. He exudes military spirit and possesses a flair for political language as a future leader yet has a sense of honor and duty to his people. And along with that I can bring up Terence who is also a military man and climbed the ranks to be by Dion's side. Their love for each other is tender and beautiful and perceived as just another aspect of themselves.

*Kupka - Now this guy is your typical gym bro and is quite the buffoon (I cracked up when Sleipnir says something like "seems Hugo's head was filled with rocks afterall.) He gives the strong impression that he does not respect women (ahem, that servant he kicked) with the exception of Benedikta who could care less about him. Kupka is your stereotypical toxic masculine type.

*Barnabas - Another villain who uses his masculine aura to dominate and overpower. Even when it came to the intimate scene with Benedikta, he certainly gives the impression that carnal pleasure is just a means to an end. Benedikta knew immediately that he'd throw her away as soon as she lost her use to him. Also... I mean...the dude carries a huge sword like he's trying to make a statement LOL!

In terms of side characters, we see that even the hardened Blackthorne is encouraged to open up his feelings which (through many side quests) he is eventfully able to do and make peace with his past. We see the rugged Otto and his eyes brimming with tears when speaking about the late Cid or about the Bearer son he lost. We see Goetz as the gentle giant who is working on his own self-confidence. We also see Gav who gets emotional after a few kegs of ale and cares deeply about Edda and her baby. And even Uncle Byron who shows his sense of power through his financial generosity but loves to put on a good show (he would be quite the actor in Shakespeare theater!)

There are many male characters that I missed but I wanted to focus on a handful of characters. We're so used to seeing the typical battle-hardened and gruff heroes that eventually claim victory over their enemies and get the girl. It's nice to have a story where you have men with different pasts and drives that pull them forward to their futures.

I will also (hopefully soon) write about the female characters as well! :)

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Fireleaf (Part Nineteen)

Hello! Hope you're all well and having a good week. @greeneyedivy and I have been super excited about this chapter since...well, since the beginning of Fireleaf really. We're so excited to finally be posting it!

We hope you enjoy. Thank you so much for all the lovely support!

Warnings: Smut. 😏🌶️

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For the following three weeks, keeping busy was Lucien’s sanity.

While Tamlin had his people covertly keeping an eye on the Autumn Court, on Beron’s movements, Lucien was researching until his eyes felt like they were bleeding. Reading the old laws of Prythian.

Three weeks. Three weeks had passed without him seeing Y/N. Almost three. He’d ticked every day off with an ache in his heart. It hurt more ferociously than anything he’d ever felt before, but he would face it, endure it; make sure it was worth it in the end.

That didn’t stop him thinking constantly about her, though. Which he was doing, right now, whilst he was supposed to be studying the book in front of him.

He rubbed at the ache that was building between his eyes and loosely tied his hair back. It had been early morning when he’d carried the pile of books into Tamlin’s office and began reading. Hours had passed since — it must have been noon, by now, at the very least. He would grab a quick lunch and get right back to his reading.

It was as he stood and opened the door that voices floated up to him. He frowned to himself — beyond the Spring Court staff and sentries he saw coming and going, it was relatively quiet here. Any High Lord business tended to take Tamlin into the villages rather than him receiving an audience here.

But it was a lilting male voice that was lingering with Tamlin’s, and — Lucien realised, as he descended the staircase — a familiar one at that. He stopped in the doorway of the dining room, taking in the sight of Tamlin engaging in conversation with Eris.

Eris looked up upon Lucien’s arrival, his hand naturally rested on the hilt of his sword. He looked…different, somehow. Older. Stronger.

“Brother.” He dipped his head at Lucien. “You look positively awful.”

Lucien pursed his lips, anxiety roiling in his gut. What would bring his brother here, besides bad news? He studied him, looking for some indication that something had happened.

“What are you doing here, Eris?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“I was waiting for your return so I could tell you what I discovered.” The oldest Vanserra said. “But it would seem you’ve taken to wallowing.”

Lucien supposed he couldn’t blame him for thinking that. He looked a mess, with his crumpled, unbuttoned white shirt and loose trousers. But that was because his self-care had taken a backseat whilst he’d thrown himself, morning and night, into whatever research and work he could find to…to fix this. Of course he didn’t look his best.

“So I’ve come, instead, to give you a brotherly pep talk.” Eris finished.

“Eris—”

“Hear me loud and clear, Lucien.” Eris stepped forward — and rather comically tightened his grip on his sword. “I know everything. Dion told me. And running away is not the answer. Quit your damn wallowing and get back home.”

“You don’t understand—”

“No, I don’t think you understand. You are the only person who can fight for the female that you love. What good is it going to do, holing yourself up in another court? She needs you. And you need her—”

“Eris, will you shut up for five fucking seconds?”

Eris faltered, cocking an eyebrow. From across the table, Tamlin watched. “So he does still have some fight in him.”

Lucien rolled his eyes. “That’s why I came here, you ass. Not to wallow. To figure out how to fix all of this. Tamlin and I have been working together.”

Eris went still, studying his brother. Within seconds, his stance relaxed. “…Oh. Right.” He cleared his throat. “Well…good.”

Across the table, Tamlin seemed to be stifling a laugh. Eris shot him a look, lowering himself into a chair.

Lucien, though, remained standing, his hands nervously clenching at his sides. “You said you discovered something?”

Eris nodded. “I did. Well — two somethings, actually.”

Tamlin rose from his chair, hastily grabbing for a decanter of whiskey and three glasses. He placed them on the table, watching as Eris dug into the inside of his jacket and produced a small pile of envelopes.

“First of all,” he said, chucking them onto the table, “Y/N’s friend Linden? He’s been writing to her since she first came to the estate. Father has been intercepting those letters and hiding them from her. Allowing her to think he hasn’t bothered to be in contact. These are the copies I made.”

Lucien frowned, reaching out and grabbing the envelopes. “For what reason? Besides being a cruel bastard.”

“Because — as you’ll discover from reading them — Linden had information that he wanted to tell Y/N that could have compromised father.”

Tamlin kept an eye on Lucien as he repeated, “information?”

Eris nodded. “The entire thing…the engagement between Dion and Y/N…was all cleverly calculated. Even though Dion did nominate Y/N’s name himself, he would have found himself engaged to her anyway — because it was all part of a deal between Y/N’s father and ours.”

Lucien was hardly listening, his nose buried in the letters. His stomach churned with every word he drank in, every bit of information that took root in his brain. Letter after letter, he read and chucked onto the table, his expression hardening, hands shaking.

“What would Beron be getting out of a deal with Y/N’s father?” Tamlin asked.

And it was Lucien who answered. Lucien, whose voice was so cuttingly cold as he bit out, “Faebane.”

Eris nodded in confirmation. “Y/N’s family’s business had been going under for a while because her father gambled away pretty much everything they had. His reputation — their family’s reputation — was at risk of being destroyed as thoroughly as their fortune. And so to bring some money back in, Y/N’s father began dealing in prohibited chemicals and substances such as Faebane. Our father got wind of it, and instead of putting a stop to it, he saw a way to use it to his advantage. Together, they cooked up an agreement — Y/N’s father would provide ours with any of these substances that he desired, free of charge, so long as their reputation was kept intact. Part of that deal was getting Y/N away from their family estate, because her father knew she would intervene if she heard of what he was doing. Which was how they agreed on her being sent to our estate to marry Dion.”

“And Linden somehow found out.” Lucien murmured, staring into space. “Which was probably why he got sent away. Going by these letters, he wanted to meet with Y/N and warn her.”

“But father put a stop to that.”

Lucien swallowed. “Does Y/N…have you told her? About her father?”

Eris shook his head. “Not yet. I wanted to track Linden down first. Speak to him and find out everything he knows. This…this is going to be hard for her.”

Yes, it was. Lucien’s eyes shuttered, his throat bobbing as he tried to swallow. He swiped out, pouring a measure of whiskey and knocking it back. Both Tamlin and Eris watched him.

“How is she?” He rasped, as desperate for the answer as he was scared of it.

A look of concern passed Eris’s face. He gave a half-hearted shrug. “About as well as can be expected. She’s drowning in wedding preparations and is all the more miserable for it.”

Of course, it was the answer Lucien expected — and yet it didn’t make it any easier to hear. He slumped into a chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. He despised the thought of her being there…thinking he’d given up—

“It won’t be long, Lucien,” Tamlin said quietly. “You’ll be back with her soon. This—this information is good. This can be used against Beron.”

“I know. I know.” Lucien stared down. “I just…I miss her.”

“And she misses you.” Eris supplied. “As does mother. She keeps asking after you — asking what the hell is going on and when the hell you’ll be back.”

Fuck. Lucien hadn’t even considered what his dear, sweet mother must be thinking or feeling. What she must have made of Lucien disappearing without a single goodbye. He loved her dearly, hated keep things from her—

“Tell her.” He blurted, not sure he really meant to. “Tell her everything.”

His brother studied him. “You’re sure?”

“The more people we have on our side, the better.” He shrugged. “She may not be able to do much, but…we have a greater chance of protecting her from whatever’s coming if she knows everything that’s going on.”

Eris seemed to consider it for a moment, before he nodded resolutely. They loved their mother dearly — would spare her from being caught in the crossfire as well as they reasonably could.

“Then I shall.” Eris stood from his chair, tucking it in. He reached out, knocking back his measure of whiskey before brushing himself down. “I’ll return home and speak to mother. And then I’m going to find Linden. You…you shouldn’t wait to see Y/N, Lucien. She needs you.”

He’d barely taken a step forward before Lucien was gripping onto his arm. “Eris.” He stared up at him. “When you find Linden…bring him to the old orchard. Father won’t look for us there. And send for me immediately. I’ll find a way to see Y/N. And…thank you. For everything.”

A moment passed of the two brothers just staring at each other — a moment of solidarity and understanding.

And then Eris was dipping his chin and squeezing his brother’s hand.

And in a flash, he was gone.

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Quiet, uneventful days had become a rare commodity.

The subject of your wedding was a dull, monotonous entity that seemed to follow you around everywhere. Day in and day out was filled with some sort of preparation, some situation that you had to meet with a false smile. You were sick of being poked and prodded and pulled and pushed like a damn doll — and all when you just wanted to curl up and cry, too. When heartache was a splintering thing inside your chest that never lessened.

But today, at least, there was nothing in the calendar. Perhaps you’d be able to have a cry in peace.

You’d woken to a heavy silence, and it hadn’t taken you long to learn — through asking servants — that most people were gone from the estate for the time being. Beron and Barric away on business, Eris having left on his own. Dion had a particular set of errands to run, apparently, as an upcoming groom. Where Jareth and Rian were, you didn’t know nor care.

You were just relieved to drop the false smile for a bit. You curled yourself up in an armchair with a book that you knew you wouldn’t able to concentrate on.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there like that, watching shafts of sunlight cast across the lawn, when the door opened behind you. You glanced over your shoulder, taking in the brilliant, vibrant hair and skin like finest porcelain. Lady Autumn’s concerned eyes roved over you.

And just like that, you were slamming that smile back onto your lips, forcing the corners to lift up no matter how much they protested.

“I didn’t realise you hadn’t left with the High Lord.” You said.

She inclined her head. “He allowed me to stay — with the wedding being so near and details needing to be fine tuned. I thought you and I might spend the day together.”

You fought to keep your reluctance from showing from your face. It wasn’t that you didn’t like her, or even enjoy her company – on the contrary, you’d found her to be a pleasant companion over the past two weeks, someone who came alive when she wasn’t being watched and analysed. She was kind-hearted and soft…and a constant reminder of the future you were unable to escape.

She read the hesitation on your face, stepping further into the room. “I know life has been pretty constant recently, but…humour me. There’s…there’s somewhere I’d like to take you.”

Not, exactly, what you’d been expecting. Lady Autumn rarely said or did what was beyond expected of her. It was so out of the blue that it had a slither of intrigue snaking its way through the blur of negative emotions that so heavily weighed you down.

Perhaps…perhaps it was better for you to go with her. To do something, anything, to occupy yourself. Surely it had to be better than sitting and ruminating on what you couldn’t have.

You set your untouched book aside, rising from the chair. “Of course I’ll spend the day with you.”

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With a hamper packed with food, the two of you each took to a horse and rode away from the estate. It was like…like breathing for the first time in a long time.

You rode in companionable silence for a while, following in her direction. Only when the peaceful autumn landscapes began to shift and change did your curiosity pique. You knew Beron wasn’t due back to the estate for at least a couple of days, but…to travel so far away without his knowledge–

“Where are you taking me?” You asked, more worried about the consequences Lady Autumn would face than yourself. “Lady–”

“Please—call me Catrin. And you’ll see.”

Catrin. Was that the first time you’d ever heard her name? You couldn’t recall anyone ever having spoken it. The High Lord had pretty much given her a title and stripped her of any other identity.

You couldn’t bear the thought of a similar fate. No matter how worlds apart Dion was from his father in personality, in values…just knowing that others would simply see you as his wife, his lady…a lump rose in your throat. You tried to shake the thought away and focus on the journey ahead.

You’d lost track of how long you’d been riding by the time you came to the opening of a sprawling forest. The trees seemed to naturally part as though they’d been expecting you.

Catrin glanced over her shoulder at you. “We’ll dismount and continue on foot from here.”

With a nod, you followed her lead. You couldn’t help subtly studying her as you climbed down from your horse and rubbed at his neck soothingly. Away from Beron, even her hair seemed more vibrant. A slight pink dusted her cheeks, and her brown eyes seemed to beckon the sunlight towards them. She was beautiful, anyway, but…truly breathtaking, when she wasn’t being stifled.

 Retrieving the food hamper from her horse, she met your gaze and gestured to the forest opening. “This way.”

You hesitated. Beautiful as it was, the whole thing felt…bizarre. You didn’t know what or where this place was. Why she’d taken you here in particular. And lovely as she was, you knew how firmly she lived under Beron’s control; you couldn’t stop paranoid thoughts pelting you of this being some sort of trap. Of Beron having got his sweet, docile wife to lure you here to finally punish you somewhere where nobody could hear you scream–

“You needn’t fear me, Y/N.” Catrin said softly. “There’s something I want to show you. Something very few people know about. Especially my husband.”

The bite in her voice was enough to convince you of her honestly, at least. You took a step forward, towards those strange, shimmering trees that seemed to be listening to you. “Where are we?”

“The Otherlands.” Catrin told you; your sparse knowledge of Prythian had certainly never touched on that name. “It sits just outside the Autumn Court, but it’s governed by no one. Whatever takes place here…the High Lord has no jurisdiction over it. Nor does he have any interest in it.”

It was certainly beautiful – and empty. Quiet. A place where nature was allowed to thrive without the intrusions of manmade structures and smoke polluting the air. No wonder the trees looked different. The air smelled different.

“It’s stunning.” You answered earnestly. “But…why have you brought me here?”

“As I said — to show you something.”

Without sparing any more information, she turned on her feet and began to walk. You followed – and then stopped to blink. Your eyes hadn’t been deceiving you; those shimmering trees were truly parting to let you through. With every step forward, a path seemed to reveal itself before your very eyes. Rare, rare magic, like nothing you’d ever seen.

You’d lagged behind enough that you had to jog to catch up. You fell into step with Catrin, your wide eyes focused on every inch of smooth pathway that appeared out of nowhere. Catrin watched you with a smile.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” She said softly. “I never get tired of it, even after all this time.”

“I…what magic is this? Whose magic is this?”

A faraway look entered her eyes, though she didn’t falter a single step. As if she’d walked the hidden path a thousand times before and knew it by heart.

“The magic of somebody I love very much.” She answered quietly.

You watched her, waiting for more. A strange shadow had crossed her face that was so at odds with the landscape, it was almost frightening. Darkening.

There was no doubt in your mind that she absolutely was not talking about Beron.

“Do you…” You spoke. Swallowed down your words. You weren’t sure what to say. “Is he not alive?”

Catrin’s eyes danced over to you. “He is alive. Which makes it worse, somehow, don’t you think? For them to be there, and for you to still be unable to have them.”

Such true, painful words. They fit your situation so perfectly that you winced.

Catrin stopped, and the path forked before you. You followed her lead as she took a left, the trees parting and forming a perfect clearing. You stood at the edge as you watched her step in. She seemed to be taken somewhere else for a moment. Another time. A happier time.

But then she shook it off. Turned to you. “I brought you here to talk about Lucien.”

You felt stillness prickling over your body, your mind emptying of all thoughts. Nothing but bleating panic existed about you as you stared back at her.

You could see — in her face, you could see that she knew. How or why, you weren’t sure. But her eyes held the truth; your truth. She’d found you out.

You swallowed, still attempting to slam up your perfected facade. “Lady—Catrin…I’m afraid I don’t know why Lucien left—”

“You do.” She cut you off gently. “We both do.”

There was no anger evident on her face or in her voice; although, you couldn’t picture her parading such an emotion. She almost permanently wore that blank, vacant expression that you’d begun to master yourself these last few weeks.

Now, though, there was fire in her eyes.

“Lucien left because he loves you. And you love him.” She said.

Your eyes shuttered. “Listen—”

“Eris told me. Yesterday. Although…I suspected before then. I know what love looks like. I’ve seen how Lucien has come alive since you arrived.”

The words — those damn words — were torture. What good could they do you now? Love couldn’t prevail. It couldn’t solve everything. You could love Lucien for the rest of your existence, but that didn’t mean you could have him. And he could see as much himself; had left because of it.

“I’m marrying Dion.” You whispered, begging your voice not to crack. “I have no choice—”

“Listen to me, Y/N.”

Catrin stepped forward, her soft, gentle arms gently landing on your shoulders. Nothing but sincerity sat in her eyes as she stared at you.

“I brought you here,” she said. “Because I cannot see history repeat itself. I won’t. Not for my children.”

“What—”

“A very long time ago, I fell in love with a wonderful male. A kind male, who is good and noble and gentle. I would happily have spent my life with him, but only a year later, my family married me off to Beron. For their sakes — their social standing. They knew he wasn’t kind, and they knew I wasn’t happy, but that was not important to them. It was all about appearances. Reputation.”

Again, your eyes shuttered. Appearances. Reputation. Just like it was with your family. This alliance between your family and the Vanserras was simply about rebuilding what you’d lost. Your happiness didn’t come into it.

“I relented.” Catrin’s eyes stung with tears. “I was weak and not at all brave. I told myself that I had no choice. That it was my duty to be Beron Vanserra’s wife and bear his children, even though I loved another male so ferociously. So completely. Even though I always have. Those feelings do not go away. I spent twenty years without my love before I saw him again. He rescued me from harm, and it took one look at him to realise that I loved him just as much as I had two decades earlier.”

You wanted to slam your hands over your ears, to hide from her words. It wasn’t helpful to know that your feelings would always linger. It didn’t…it didn’t help.

And yet you did want to hear. You wanted to know how it had ended. How it might end for you.

“What happened?” You croaked.

“We began an affair. On and off for decades. This is where we would meet.” She gestured to the surroundings around you. “If Beron were to ride this way, he would see nothing but plain woodland. This was our place — mine and my love’s. His magic allowed us to be here together. Even if years went by of us not seeing each other, this was where we would come. On the other side of this clearing is a cottage — Dayview Cottage, he called it. It still stands today. And that is all I have left of him. When I was pregnant with Lucien, Beron found out about the affair. It stopped after that. We haven’t been together since.”

Such raw, visceral emotion coated her voice that you had to take a step back, to turn away. Because you knew that was what your own voice sounded like. You knew that you held the same look of utter turmoil and heartbreak in your eyes.

“Y/N,” Catrin whispered, “I don’t tell you this to hurt you. But the second Eris filled me in on what had been going on, I knew I had to speak to you. It got too late for me. I had children to think about — a family. I had duties that went beyond what I, myself, craved. Your only duty is to yourself. Do not make the same mistake I did. Do not give yourself regrets. Have the bravery and strength to fight what is expected of you. You cannot doom yourself, or Lucien or Dion or Willow, to a life of misery, because you’ve been told that you must.”

“It isn’t that simple.” You choked. “Beron—”

“Beron,” she cut in her, her voice uncharacteristically cold, “will be dealt with.”

Such confidence in such a weighty statement. You curled in on yourself, wiping at your eyes. Your entire body trembled.

“My children are the only thing I live for now, Y/N.” Her arm came around you. “And you…I consider you to be the daughter I never had. I see so much of my younger self in you. And I’m telling you what I wish I could tell the younger version of me. I will not see any of you resigned to the same fate that I was unable to escape.”

That was it. Your tether snapping, the dam breaking — you buried into your hands, and weeks and weeks of pent-up emotions came storming out in a pained, keening cry.

Catrin’s arms snaked around you, and you felt yourself slump against her, bringing you both to the forest floor. Somehow you ended up in her lap, her arms rocking you like a child while you sobbed and sobbed. For the male you loved more than you ever could have imagined. For the future you so wished you could have with him.

“It’s such a beautiful thing, Y/N, to love.” Catrin whispered, pressing a kiss atop of your head. “Grab it with both hands and don’t let go.”

She said nothing more as she held you. Nothing more as you cried until your throat was scratchy, your eyes raw.

But her words stuck with you, right where they’d slammed into your heart.

Grab it with both hands and don’t let go.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *

The two of you shared the hamper of food, words laying heavy around you as she told you more of her younger self. Who she was before she became a Vanserra. The woods continued to shimmer and dance in your presence, and right before you left to find your horses, she led you to the other side of the clearing and showed you — Dayview Cottage.

It was beautiful, in a melancholy sort of way. The magic that belonged to the unnamed male she loved — the same magic that enchanted the trees and the forest floor — kept it nicely preserved and untouched, no matter how many years it watched pass by. But its emptiness was bleak and lifeless, and it left a similar look in Catrin’s eyes.

Just as the first signs of evening began to show, Catrin ushered you onto your horse with a simple “it’s gotten late. We need to leave.”

Your head ached as the two of you rode back, and your full, swimming mind made it feel like mere minutes before you began to recognise villages and landscapes. You knew your surroundings enough to recognise exactly where you were — a couple of miles from the hamlet that had been destroyed by the fire.

Catrin glanced at you somewhat knowingly, and it was the first time she spoke since you’d set off as she said, “There’s one more place you need to go. But I can’t come with you.”

You frowned back at her, the action in itself self causing a twinge of discomfort to ripple behind your eyes. “What?”

“I’m heading home. But there’s a gamekeeper’s cottage around here, I believe. One you might be familiar with. Somebody is waiting for you there.”

You stared at her, knowing exactly what she was inferring without saying the words. The gamekeeper’s cottage – where you and Lucien had headed after the hamlet fire. Where you’d first ever given over to passion and found release in each other’s bodies. It seemed so long ago now.

And he…he was waiting for you there? It had to be him…the significance of the place. 

Anxiety and anticipation and excitement hit you all at once. So, so desperately you wanted to see him; to see how he was doing after a few weeks in the Spring Court. To see…to see whether he missed you as much as you missed him.

But could it truly be that easy? Catrin’s words, her story, had certainly left a lasting effect on you, got you thinking. But thoughts of Beron, of Willow, of danger…they still plagued you. Still had you slamming that wall up and not allowing yourself to consider that you might have a different outcome than the one you’d been forcing yourself to accept.

“Why?” You rasped quietly. “Why is he there?”

Catrin studied you. “Because he needs you as much as you need him. This is hard for him, also. Don’t think for a second that fleeing to the Spring Court was easy for him, Y/N. He’d have come back far sooner if he had it his way. But he asked me to help you see each other; at least spare him a conversation.”

Of course you would. She didn’t need to convince you. Even if your body was taut as a bowstring and fear was in your eyes…even if you refused and began your journey home…you knew damn well that you would have turned back and ran straight to that gamekeeper’s cottage.

You wouldn’t leave him there alone, wondering if you were ever coming.

Catrin knew it, too.

“Go to him, Y/N.” She said, reaching out to press a gentle hand to your cheek. “Go to him, and let him speak.”

You’d thought you were all cried out, and yet as you nodded, tears welled in your eyes. There was nothing but a field that lay between you and that gamekeeper’s cottage. Nothing but a stretch of grass that lay between you and the male you loved. Missed. Wanted.

Catrin, herself, looked like she was on the verge of shedding a few tears. She plastered on a beautiful smile and straightened in the saddle. “Go,” she said. “And give my boy my love.”

Before you could thank her, she was digging her heels into her horse’s sides and taking off with a soft command. You watched as she rode into the distance, her red hair like a burning flame on the landscape.

And then it was just you and that stretch of field. The cottage that stood on the other side of it. The other half of your heart that waited within it.

You closed your eyes, drawing in a deep breath. Tried to calm your thudding heart. With chills spreading across your skin that had nothing to do with the fresh evening air, you guided your horse across the field.

Every travelled inch that brought you closer had your ears ringing, head spinning. And when you saw the cottage, slightly hidden amongst the trees, it was an effort to keep yourself atop of your horse.

You slowed to a stop, taking a moment to just…breathe. Every part of you shook as you dismounted and secured your horse to a tree, leaving it to graze the forest floor. There was no sound inside the cottage. No light that peeked out.

This cottage — this cottage that had been a harbinger of change; a painful one at the time. One that had set the wheels in motion for what was to come. Yours and Lucien’s own version of Dayview Cottage, you supposed.

You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do. Knock? Open the door and stride right in? Your hands twisted around each other, your mind ticking away at a pace you couldn’t keep up with—

But the door opened without any intervention from you. And there Lucien stood, the light of the cottage fire seeming to offset a glow around him as his eyes met yours, and he swallowed.

He was…glorious. Breathtaking. You didn’t have any words, try as you might to muster some.

He swallowed again before his lips parted, his eyes scanning your face.

“…Hi…” was all he said. But he could have spoken any damn word in the common tongue. It wouldn’t have mattered.

It was his deep, lilting voice that destroyed your resolve. Before you knew what you were doing, your body was colliding with his, your arms snaking around his waist. A cry tore from your throat.

He wrapped himself around you immediately. And pulled you into the cottage.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

You didn’t know how long the two of you stood in the entryway, silently holding each other. Long enough to shed more tears and soak the front of Lucien’s shirt.

But once your cries had drifted into just the occasional snivel, he pulled back to stare at you. His hands brushed the wet strands of hair that stuck to your cheek.

“You’re okay?” He murmured, and his voice threatened to end you all over again.

You could only nod, your voice not quite strong enough, yet, not to break.

He’d placed a kiss against your forehead before pulling away, murmuring about preparing you both a warm drink. Which left you to drift around the space in silence, rebuilding your composure, your strength. You kept a little bit of a wall in place, not knowing what the hell to expect. Lucien’s pottering around the kitchen was a soothing background noise as you studied the random assortment of things around you.

And then, so naturally at the same time — as if your bodies mirrored one another’s — you were turning to each other. Lucien studied you, two mugs in his hands.

“You look well.” You croaked, your eyes drinking him in. 

His lips twitched, and he placed the mugs down on the small dining table. “You don’t need to lie. I look like a mess.”

A soft laugh left your throat. You glanced down, rubbing your arms, giving your hands something — anything — to do. “As do I.”

Silence filled the space between you. And then slow, thudding footsteps approached. “You could never look like a mess.”

So, so not true. You were aware of your sallow skin, the dark smudges beneath your eyes. That you’d lost a little weight. And yet you also knew that Lucien spoke with such sincerity. He meant it, even if you didn’t believe it yourself.

Your eyes remained on the scuffs of your boots as he continued to approach. He stopped a hair's-breadth away, close enough for his scent to smother you. Your eyes shuttered as you breathed it in greedily.

“Y/N.” He whispered, his voice skittering over your skin. “Look at me.”

You weren’t sure you could. Your hands gripped your arms hard, the nails digging into your skin. It took you a moment to steel yourself enough to reopen your eyes and lift them to Lucien’s face. Nothing — nothing — could have prepared you for the emotion that lay there.

Love. Pure love, and adoration. Heartache. Despair. Somehow, you read it all. Somehow, you knew you looked the same.

The volume of the emotions threatened to bowl you over. You took a step back, clearing your throat. “Why—why did you want to meet?”

Lucien stared at you, pursing his lips. Because to question why he would want to see you was so ludicrous to him. But he followed your lead, straightening himself up a little.

“To talk to you.” He said. “To ask you — beg, if I have to — not to marry Dion.”

You swallowed. “Lucien—”

“Please just hear me out.”

You stared at him, every self-preserving instinct screaming at you to push past him and run the hell out of there. Because Catrin’s story, her words — hard-hitting as they were — didn’t change that it wasn’t as simple as just not marrying Dion. They didn’t change that there was danger involved. Real danger. Lives at risk.

But Lucien’s eyes were pleading. And you relented, relaxing your stance enough to show him that you were open, at least, to hearing what he had to say.

A moment passed of nothing. You wondered if he might not speak at all. But as you met his eyes in question, you found tears there. Found that he was struggling to speak around his emotion.

“Lucien…” you sighed softly. You reached for him, your hand lingering in the air. Would it make it worse to touch him?

His eyes shuttered, tears spilling down his cheeks. And then he was stepping towards you, cupping your face in his broad, warm hands. Tilting it up to look at him.

“Listen to me. Please.” His voice shook. So did his hands. “I am in love with you. So…so in love. I didn’t know it was possible to love anyone or anything this much. I didn’t know I was capable.”

You blinked away your own tears. “You said you were done fighting for me. I don’t blame you for that.”

“I said that to make it easier to turn around and walk out. But I went to the Spring Court to ask for Tamlin’s help. To find a way for this to work — for us to be together.”

Hope threatened to bloom inside you. You shoved it back down; couldn’t let it take root. Not for it just to be yanked out again.

“It isn’t that easy.” You whispered.

“Of course it isn’t.” His rough, calloused thumbs stroked your cheeks. “It’s love. But I will never stop fighting for you. Never.”

“Lucien—”

“Please, Y/N.” He stared down at you. “I need you to trust me.”

You placed your hands over his, brushing your thumbs over his knuckles. “I do trust you. With my entire soul.”

“Then please, my fireling, hear me when I say that there’s a way out of this, I just— I need you to choose me.” His eyes held something so familiar and yet so unknown to you — a glint of gold in a sea of russet. “I’m already yours. So claim me.”

You broke.

There was no staying strong beneath the weight of those words. Those emotions. You couldn’t.

You reached up, taking a strand of his hair in your palm.

His breath stalled.

You parted the strands of hair, keeping your eyes fixed on the pattern, as you began to twine them together. To braid them.

“What’re you doing?” He whispered, as if afraid that you’d stop if he spoke too loudly.

“Giving you a braid.” You answered and fastened the braid.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed — hard.

“There. You’re mine now.” Your eyes met his russet ones. “I’m in love with—”

Your words cut off as you felt it.

A resounding, earth-shattering snap, deep in your heart, in your soul.

It was like the sun breaking through clouds. Like warmth encasing you. It spread over your body, over Lucien’s, like golden rays of sunlight combining you as one. Twining your souls together. And as if those rays could speak, could whisper to you, you heard it. One word. One word that changed everything.

Mate.

You blinked up at him, so many words in your mind, your throat, on your tongue. So many things you wanted to say, and yet none would come to the surface. The world was shifting, altering your body to fit like a perfect puzzle piece with his. Your mate.

“You knew.”

“Y/N—”

A cry tumbled from your lips, and you were once more throwing yourself at Lucien, wrapping your arms around him. But it was different this time.

It was…it was you giving up the fight. It was you refusing to fight your feelings any longer. No matter what it may mean. No matter what it might bring to your doorstep. You couldn’t fight off your love any longer.

Lucien’s arms came around you, pressing you so close against him that it lifted your feet slightly from the floor. He held you tightly, one hand cradling the back of your head. “Y/N—”

“I love you.” You choked, cutting him off. “I fucking love you, Lucien.”

He went so, so still. You’d only ever said it once, sobbing into his chest. He didn’t even know if you were aware of it. But this — you said the words with such utter conviction he knew his mind couldn’t have conjured up the emotion in your voice.

And then he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. There was fire in his own.

“Say it again.” He said roughly. “Please.”

“I love you.”

You surged up on the tips of your toes, capturing Lucien in a hard, bruising kiss.

He seemed to just blink for a moment, as though he couldn’t quite keep up. And then he was folding, breathing a cry against your lips, like they’d brought him home.

Mate. Of course he was your mate. You should have damn well known. You’d never been able to stay away from him, never been able to fight the intrigue. Even when he’d been rude and standoffish and arrogant, you’d wanted more, more, more. You’d wanted Lucien Vanserra entirely.

You wanted — needed — him now.

Your kiss was hard, desperate. It was with the force of your feelings, your bond, that you urged him backwards, back and back until you were at the bed. His legs hit the edge of the mattress, and he toppled down, dragging you with him.

You tore your lips from his. Stared down at him.

“I love you.” You said.

He pushed up and kissed you again.

Both your hands and his began fighting to desperately remove clothes. They were ripped from you, from him, tossed across the room. You kissed every inch of bare skin that was revealed; Lucien’s golden, muscled chest, his stomach, his arms, his hips—

But he wanted those lips of yours on his. He pulled you up. Stared into your eyes for a moment. And then he was kissing you again.

You didn’t know at which point you both ended up completely naked, your skin pressing against his, but the feeling of it alone could have brought you to release. It felt so right. So complete.

There was no fooling around. There would be time for that — a whole future’s worth. But you needed him inside you. He needed to be inside you.

He made to flip you over, but you were pressing his chest down, pushing him into the bed. He stared up at you, watching intently, hungrily, as you lifted your hips.

Your hand reached down, wrapping around his firm, hard cock. A grunt left him as you pumped him once, twice, and then lined him up with your entrance.

“Wait.” He breathed, and you paused. He sat up, bringing his body closer to yours, your faces inches apart as he said, “I love you too.”

The words were pleasure in their own right. You moaned. Captured his mouth with yours. And then you were slowly, gently, sinking down onto his length.

The two of you gasped against each other’s mouths. Lucien’s arms came round to fasten around your waist, and he held you to him, his hand landing on your hip and beginning to rock you gently.

He filled you so perfectly. You weren’t sure there was a more complete feeling than your bodies being as flawlessly aligned as your souls.

Every movement and moment was slow, unhurried. You couldn’t possibly get any closer as he kissed you and gently rocked you on his cock. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Gods,” he breathed, his hands moving up your back, over your shoulders, down your arms. “Gods, I missed you. My mate. My fireling.”

That fucking nickname would destroy you. You moaned against his mouth, rolling your hips faster. His brow furrowed in pure, unbridled pleasure as he pulled his face back and glanced down at your joined bodies.

“Look at us.” He groaned, his hand guiding your face down, thumb slipping between your lips. “Look how perfectly we fit together. There’s no one else for either of us.”

You were also groaning, whimpering, moaning, your tongue swirling around his thumb as you watched. Watched you fucking him and him fucking you. Your mate.

You weren’t aware of when, exactly, your bodies began to move faster, harder. The two of you were nothing but dancing souls as Lucien flipped you over, not once pulling out of you as he hovered over you.

But his hips ceased their movements. He stilled inside you. Stared down at you, his eyes like pools of endless, churning emotion. His hand brushed your cheek gently.

“Say it again.” He whispered, his breath fanning your face. You knew exactly what he meant.

“Lucien Vanserra, my mate,” you breathed. Your hand trailed down his body to find his. You laced your fingers together. “I am in love with you.”

It could have been a cry or a groan that left his lips. You weren’t entirely sure. His mouth met yours, and you knew your words had set you both on the home stretch. That this was how you would finish — together.

He moved in you and on you, his hands always gentle, his hips not stuttering once. Your soft “I love yous” mingled with one another’s until you didn’t know which was yours and which was his.

And then he was picking up the pace. You moaned against him, and you could feel him throbbing inside you. You wanted to feel his release.

“Come,” you whispered against his lips. “Come for me. Please.”

“Gods.” He choked. His hand reached down between you, the rough pads of his fingers rubbing at your clit, sending a white-hot sting of pleasure splintering through your body. “Come with me.”

His deft fingers left you no other choice. You were light as air as you went tumbling off that edge into oblivion, your pleasure overpowering you entirely. Lucien was falling right along with you, his cock spilling every drop inside you. While his mouth spilled nothing but love into yours.

And then he was pulling back just a little. He trembled against you, his head falling to your chest, his breaths heaving as much as yours. Your fingers threaded within his hair, soothingly massaging the area. It took you a moment to notice the wetness that trickled down between your breasts. You frowned, gently lifting his face.

Tear-filled eyes met yours. Lucien squeezed them shut, the droplets rolling down his face. You reached out, brushing his hair back.

“Hey…” you spoke softly. “Look at me.”

He did. He allowed you to see every emotion on his face. You leaned in, kissing his wet, salty lips.

“Promise me, Y/N.” He whispered, his arms pulling you against him. “Promise me we won’t be apart again. I couldn’t bear it.”

You didn’t know much. You didn't know what would happen the next day, or the day after that — or the year after that.

But you knew that you loved Lucien Vanserra more than you could possibly put into words.

And you knew you damn well meant it, with every piece of your heart and soul, as you stared into his eyes and spoke those words.

“I promise.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

You’d never felt so serene, you realised, as you did while watching him sleep. 

You knew you could happily lay there forever, your body slanted over his as your fingers absentmindedly played with the braid you’d put there mere hours ago. You didn’t once tear your eyes away from the smooth, unworried sight of his face. He was beautiful.

So, so lucky you were, to have this male. To love him. He’d given you so much already. Hope. Bravery. Strength.

Your mind gently thumbed through your memories of him. Your lips twitched at the thought of that first encounter in the woods — how unnecessarily rude he’d been. How he seemed to dislike you for no reason.

And yet — and yet — look at the two of you now. In love.

The backs of your fingers brushed gently against his cheek. It was then that Lucien stirred, sucking in a slow, deep breath. His eyes fluttered open, immediately finding yours. A smile tugged at his lips.

“Were you watching me sleep?” He blinked at you sleepily, a lazy smirk replacing the soft smile.

The morning rasp in his voice turned something molten in your lower belly.

“Maybe.” You conceded, shrugging as best as you could laying on your side. “I might’ve been playing with your braid, too.”

His eyes snagged on your hand — your fingers — as they still traced the intricate design. “It’s addicting, isn’t it.”

A hum was your only response.

Both of you remained quiet and blissful, basking in each other’s company, until Lucien noticed the corners of your mouth lifting up in a soft smile. His heart went a tad wobbly in his chest.

“What is it?”

“This braid is special.”

He studied you closely, that brilliant smile widening. “Oh?”

“It signifies another thing, now. Not just Linden, but…you, too. Us. It signifies our strength. Our love.”

You heard the slight hitch of breath in his throat. Like your words would start him off crying again.

“I don’t think I’ll ever tire of hearing you say that.” He whispered.

You smiled and leaned in to brush your lips against his.

“These strands of hair,” you murmured, gently tugging, “are our souls. Twined together. Always.”

He kissed you, somehow both hard and soft. And then his forehead was pressing against yours. “Always.”

You smiled. But there was no chance to breathe another word as his arms came around you, and he was flipping you over just as he had earlier.

And as he slid into you, he gasped that same word against your ear, his braid tickling your face.

Always.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The training barracks, as it turned out, were a bitch to find.

Sweat smattered Eris’s forehead and rolled down his neck as he slowed his mount to a stop. His eyes scanned the huge, imposing building before him, and with the unexpected silence that met him, it was hard to believe the place housed a troop of guards in training.

Though, if he listened harder, the sounds of clashing metal and light-hearted banter danced over to him on the soft breeze. Guards were training somewhere on the green that was big enough to rival the Vanserra Estate.

This was where the letters had indicated. And so this was where he would look.

He dismounted, shoes hitting the dirt path. He patted his horse’s neck as he strode towards the barracks. What was the etiquette here? Did he knock? Just stride in like his father would? He wasn’t sure—

He didn’t have to worry about it, though, as a sound caught his attention. He turned, eyeing the smaller — but still considerable — building to his right. A sturdy wooden building whose door was open just a crack. Curiosity piqued.

Before he could take a step forward, the door swung open wider, and a tall figure emerged. A naked, muscled torso of sweat-slick brown skin glinted in the sunlight. The male was huge, all defined, corded muscles and rugged handsomeness. He wiped his brow with a rag as he studied Eris curiously. And then stilled, recognition dawning.

But it wasn’t the sculpted body Eris’s gaze snagged on, no. His eyes scanned the brilliant, intricate braids that were currently tied in a knot atop of the male's head. The uptilted, dark eyes that were slightly feline. Cheekbones that could cut through stone. 

“Eris Vanserra?” The male spoke — and if his appearance hadn’t been a giveaway enough, the smooth, lilting accent most certainly was. “Can I help you with something?”

 Eris inclined his head, taking a step forward. “I sure hope so.”

Intrigue crossed the male’s eyes, and he stood up straighter.

“Finally we meet.” Eris said with a vague smile. “You must be Linden."

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lucien tags: @brekkershadowsinger @sillycrownlady @ruler-of-hades @lectoradefics @lucyysthings @littlemoonash @janzquu @carmelalikestoread @cathyac @tasha2627 @elkessecretplace @inkyvelvet @acourtofthought @zazite95 @antisocialcookie16 @sehalpha25 @fuckthatfeeling @adamgetawaydriver @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @lostpirateinwonderland @scrunklybunny @owllover123 @vangoghsbaby @goodbyemilkyway @babyimagangsta2

[drabblesandimagines]

400 request. Can I get a happy ending with Clive? Thank you!

Thank you so much for your request! <3 I hope you enjoy x Promises Clive Rosfield x fem reader, established relationship Major endgame spoilers! 1,140 words

From dawn to dusk, day after day from when Origin fell from the sky, you've waited on the pier, keeping your eyes on the horizon. It's better to stay in the one place, you reason, though it's hard. He could be hurt, convalescing somewhere until he's well enough to travel. And now that the stolas magic is gone, it’s going to take far longer to send word places and receive it back - if you left the Hideaway in search, he could return in your absence.

So you stay, even though your heart aches.

There are pity-filled glances from all directions. You move to the side to allow the Cursebreakers to board the skiff heading over to the mainland. They’re away to help people adjust to the new age – how to cope without the Mothercrystals providing for them any longer.

"I'm not sure this is healthy, like." Gav comments, a bowl of stew in hand. Everyone seems to constantly bring you sustenance – they must have a rota, Tarja, Jill, Otto, Gav - as if you could fill the gnawing hole within with food. "He-"

"Is coming back." You cut him off firmly, taking the offered bowl. "Clive promised he’s coming back. I just need to be patient."

Gav starts another protest but then hesitates, swallowing his rebuttal altogether. There’s a further pause as he scans the horizon, placing his hands on his hips. "How long are you going to wait like this?"

You blow on a spoonful of the stew. "As long as it takes." 

Sleep has been difficult. His smell lingers on the sheets – a combination of musk, ash and just something that is uniquely Clive. You could return to your bunk but it doesn’t seem right. When you close your eyes and you’re somewhere in the between of being awake and asleep, you can almost pretend you've buried your face in his side, rather than his pillow.

On the sixth day, a small sail boat appears on the horizon near dusk, or at least you think that’s what it is. You'd been staring most of the day and there’s a worry that it could be a mirage conjured from wishful thinking after staring so hard at nothing for hours. Otto had lent you a spyglass, though somewhat reluctantly – should he be encouraging this behaviour? You knew they all thought you were in the depths of grief, deluding yourself sitting out here, day after day.

But Clive had promised, and he'd never broken a promise before, so why should you think he’d start now?

You hold up the spyglass to your eye with a shaky hand, trying to steady it so you can actually look, but it’s no use. The boat has dipped off the horizon, or perhaps it wasn’t there at all.

You rub your eyes as you walk slowly up the pier – you need sleep.

--

It takes a while for sleep to come, but you must’ve drifted off eventually because something wet nuzzles at your cheek, proceeding to lick you across your face relentlessly.

“What is it, Torgal?” Your voice is heavy with sleep as you reluctantly open your eyes. It was one of the more solid sleeps you’d had in a while, but the wolf won’t have woken you without purpose.

Torgal barks once, his tail wagging from side to side, and he trots over to the door. You get to your feet – it’s still the dead of night, but he must sense something. You dress quickly to protect yourself against the chill and follow the wolf as he leads you to the lift and down towards the end of the dock. He sits down, tail banging against the planks, and howls into the sky.

As if in response, a sail boat – the same from earlier that day? – emerges from the mist and illuminated by the moon’s warm glow you can see the lone figure that steers it without an eyeglass.

Clive. Your heart skips a beat as it sinks in – no Joshua, no Dion.

But it is Clive.

The boat collides into the pier with a thud and he flings a rope out to secure the vessel. You bend down and grab it in shaking hands, looping it around the cleat in a knot that Obolus would’ve raised a judgemental eyebrow at, but it’ll hold and that’s all that matters.

You don’t wait for him to get off the boat - you can’t - instead jumping from the dock, causing the vessel to rock violently side to side in your enthusiasm as you land, truly putting your knot to the test, but how could you stand there? You cup his face, your hands still shaking from adrenaline. You can tell he’s weary, dark circles under his eyes but he’s here, he’s real.

“I told them you were coming back.” Your voice breaks, the tears you’ve held in for days finally flowing down your cheeks. “I told them.”

“I made you a promise, my lady.” His voice is thick as he holds in his own tears.

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, though something feels off about the embrace. There isn’t much time to pinpoint what exactly, as Torgal jumps into the boat and knocks you both down, happily licking his master’s face.

“Hello, boy.” He laughs, breathlessly, patting the wolf hound on the head. “I’m sorry to have kept the both of you waiting.”

Torgal barks happily in acknowledgement, before backing up and jumping back onto the pier. It’s as if he knows the two of you need this moment alone. Clive raises a hand to caress your face then, wiping away some tears with his thumb. You lean down and kiss him - soft, frantic kisses, tanged with salt. His arm wraps around your waist, but something cold and hard rests on your back instead of a warm palm and you sit up in realisation. He sits up slowly after you, holding the limb in front of his chest.

“Oh, my darling…” You touch his petrified fingers delicately, afraid that they may break. “Does it hurt?”

“No. It spread no further than my elbow, though it should’ve.” He sounds almost bitter.

“Don’t say that.”

“It should have, for the amount of power I wielded… But all I could think about was what I promised you, my lady. I’m sorry it took me so long to return to you – a row boat was no longer in question.” He jokes, but it doesn’t sound sincere. He hesitates, staring at his hand, doubt in his voice. “Will… Will you still have me?”

“Always…” You take both of his hands in yours, no hesitation. “..and in all ways, Clive. I love you.”

He leans his forehead against yours. “As do I, my darling one. I love you – always, and in all ways.”

--

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