#great pacing and beautiful art as always!

[murdrdocs]

sweet as a grape

description. ART DONALDSON lost a match, leading him to sulking at the hotel bar. when you slide up next to him he starts to feel like he won.

includes. SMUT MDNI 18+, submissive art, no challengers spoilers, fem!reader, sex w a stranger, drinking (but no drunk sex), masochism, dry humping, virgin coded/inexperienced art, choking, gagging (self inflicted), brief rimming, slight overstimulation, lots of allusions to masturbation, allusions to edging, art is a fucking freak

wc. 3.6k+

a/n: this is all based on assumption since challengers has yet to be released at time of posting. artwork is nighthawks by edward hopper. title from too sweet by hozier. some plot inspiration taken from @too-deviant's ray bans

Art Donaldson knows he's good at tennis. He knows he's great, and he knows that with greatness comes attention. Reporters always looking to get an exclusive from him, coaches always looking to take credit for the gained speed in his serve, brands, and companies looking to put his face on something, and people throwing themselves at him, begging for even a glance so they would have a story to tell their friends.

He knows this. But it still comes as a shock whenever people prettier than he thinks he deserves turn their attention to him. It's still a shock when you, a being with far too much beauty and grace, slides up next to him.

He smells you before he sees you. A sweet scent wafted to his nose, hitting him against the face with a pleasant slap. Then he senses you, the aura that radiates off of your body. Warm and comforting, even with the blistering heat from out that is attempting to permeate the hotel bar. He doesn't gather the courage to look at you until you speak. And your voice, God there's something about it. Something that makes Art's muscles loosen for the first time in hours, as the smooth lilt of your tone is a nice change of pace from the grunts on the court and the grating ridicule from the reporters asking him about the match, all disappointed faces reminding him that he lost.

But sitting here, on a barstool next to you, Art begins to feel like he won.

"I'll have what he's having," you tell the bartender with absolute confidence. You're leaning on the counter just a bit in an attempt to make your voice clearer, your ass perked up in the air enough to grab Art’s attention. He doesn't mean to look, really, but as he brings his glass to his lips he can't help how his eyes cut to the side briefly.

Besides, the skirt of your dress is long enough to cover your backside.

Art shakes his head. "You don't want what I’m having." He shouldn't be having anything right now. He might have lost his match, but this isn't the end. The alcohol will only slow his recovery, he knows this, but his half-assed reasoning of needing to drown his sorrows took over his mind, settling into his frontal lobe and steering his choices.

The bartender is already sliding a replica of Art's drink your way. You raise it and Art clinks his glass with yours. Then he watches you taste it. It's strong, straight liquor placed on ice which barely does anything to make it smoother, but you take it like a champ. You only take a sip, though, your eyes squeezed shut as it goes down before you place the glass back onto the counter and wave the bartender over again.

You flick your tongue out to catch a drip of liquor that missed your mouth. It’s so pathetic how just that one movement makes Art shift in his seat.

This time, you order something sweeter. Something more your style Art figures. Art doesn't think before he orders one for himself, too, and follows up the order by telling the bartender to place these drinks and any that will follow on his tab.

It doesn't take long before he confirms that you know who he is. But you're subtle about it. Your recognition comes in your glances. The way you narrow your eyes. The way you smile and laugh at his poorly made jokes. The way you ask him how he's doing—your tone a little firmer, as if you'd been in the stands today watching the close match that ultimately led to a loss. And it's then that Art recognizes you, too. 

He'd seen you briefly, just one glance before he was turning back to focus on the match. Your eyes had been covered by a pair of sunglasses then, but at the end of the match when everyone else was cheering for the winner, Art saw you cheering for him. Stood at the entrance to the locker rooms, your stacked bracelets glinting in the sunlight as you clapped. The sound of his blood rushing to his ears had been deafening then, the red in your eyes distorted every image. At the time, he believed that not one clap was in his favor. But yours surely was.

He can't tell if your intentions are really any different than anyone else who has tried to sleep with him, but he doesn't care. Because he just wants you so bad.

And for once in his life, he lets himself have what he wants. He accepts that he's a desired person, even on his off day, and he takes you, possibly the most desirable person he'd ever laid eyes on, upstairs to his room, and lets you have your way with him. 

He lets himself show a side he’s never shown to anyone else before. A side that is only seen when he’s tugging his cock all alone, his mind helpfully conjuring up images as he sped up the flick of his wrist, only to slow his motions down to a stop on his own accord. And he would continue the delicious torture, for as long as his mind and body could conjure, especially if he lost a match. 

This is a more compliant side. Less of a persona he’s put on for the media, and more of a man who just wants to please and be pleased. 

Tonight, with you laying back on his bed and waiting for him, he considers his options. He doesn’t know if he should continue his usual routine of self-inflicted torment. Or if he should give into you completely and lose himself amongst the nectar that’s gathered between your thighs. When he sees the imprint of your arousal, he decides that he’ll go along with whatever you want from him. 

It doesn’t take much for him to live up to his promise. 

You’re lying on your side, your head resting in your hand as you smile up at him lazily. You’d both had your last drink a while ago, and with the way they were spaced out Art doesn’t think you’re drunk. He’s not drunk, but he still feels elated. He feels like a teenage boy when you beckon him over and he complies willingly, crawling towards you until he’s sitting on his haunches. 

You lay on your back, staring up at him, blinking up at him. And Art waits. He waits and waits until he realizes you’re waiting for him to make the first move. 

He bends down and presses his lips to yours. The shape of the kiss is awkward since Art’s position forces your lips to align together at a perpendicular angle. But you don’t mind it. You let the initial press linger for a second before you place one of your hands onto his side and pull him towards you. Art interprets your pull as wanting him to land atop you and he does. 

The bed is large enough that only his feet hang off when he straddles you, placing only the weight of his bottom half over you and holding his top half up with a hand pressed into the mattress. 

His other hand settles on the thin strap of your dress. The material hangs off of the angular end of your shoulder, just close enough to fall off. Art doesn’t know if he initially intended to pull it down or push it back up. But you look up at him, your eyebrows slightly raised. It’s a look he knows well. He’s seen it on many opponents who doubted him. 

You’re challenging him. 

He pulls the strap down and that’s all it takes for you to take his face in both of your hands and pull his lips to yours. You have some unexpected strength in you. Your tug throws Art off of his balance until his chest collides with yours. You’re not deterred at all, your leg hiking up over Art’s hip as you press your foot into his lower back. 

Your dress must have slipped up somewhere along the way because Art can feel the warmth of your center pressing against his pants. He does it subconsciously, not even realizing what he’s doing until you reciprocate the movement, but he’s grinding into you with long and languid swipes of his boner into your arousal. 

There comes a point where the two of you need to pull your lips away from the other. But Art stubbornly doesn’t want to. His lungs ache for a breath. His head screams at him, telling him that kissing you can’t be more important than breathing. But for a moment there, just a single moment, Art believes that it is. 

When you pull away first, Art tries not to take it personally. 

“Will you fuck me?” You ask him through your breaths. Your question takes Art by surprise. Your words are so blunt. A little crude. But they stiffen the pressure in his trousers. He likes how assertive you are. It has his head spinning and somehow he manages to hide how desperate he is in his reply. 

“Only if you ride me.” 

Not much can be hidden whenever you’re on top of him. 

You’re staring down at him, likely with a view not too dissimilar from Birdseye. Art knows that like this, he’s probably spread out before you like he’s on an examination table. From the heavens, you’re able to notice every single thing about him that you choose to. 

The way his breath hitches when you sink on him. The way he’s a little lost behind the eyes, the two big blue windows unfocused enough to suggest how much pleasure he’s getting from this. He starts to feel a little insecure, but then you bring a graceful hand down and push his damp blond hair off of his forehead, providing the ventilation needed. 

Gratefully, his eyes fall closed and his head tips back. You bring your hand down to cup his cheek and Art instinctively turns his head just enough to place a blind kiss into the center of your palm. 

“Will you look at me, Art?” 

You ask him so politely, your voice just as sweet as it was earlier in the night when he’d only been imagining something like this. He wishes you were a little firmer with him, but he still obeys, slowly peeling his eyes open. 

He’s instantly grateful that he did. Because for just a brief second, he forgot just how divine the image above him was. 

Your body is almost completely bare since the top half of your dress has been pulled down to reveal your tits. They shake with each movement. With each controlled way you sink down onto him. In the same way he’s in his element on the court, he figures that you’re in your element here. You look so natural like this, stripped by the wish to satisfy your most basic need. But you’re so good at this. He wonders if you’d had as much practice at this as he has with his craft. Not that it matters to him, especially since any previous practice you could have had would have only contributed to this time, making it as heavenly as it could possibly be. But Art thinks he wants to practice this, like this, with you more often. 

The way your cunt takes him in is hidden by the skirt of your dress. With a hand more shaky than expected, Art lifts the hem and the sight he’s blessed with makes him dizzy. He has to take a controlled breath, look away, and then come back to it. 

Your pussy is so pretty. He can’t see much from this angle, and he wishes he could see more, but he can both see and feel how wet you are. In a risky move, you’d allowed Art to forgo a condom and he sincerely hopes he won’t regret it later. The last thing he needs during the height of his career is a bastard with his eyes and a monthly check written to a one-night stand. But when he’s able to feel you intimately and see how your essence is shining his dick, he can’t regret anything. 

Everything seems like it was meant to be at this moment. Even the damned neon ball that escaped his racket by just an inch that brought him to the bar this evening anyway. 

“Here,” you mumble. Art doesn’t know exactly what you’re referencing until you knock his hand away and replace it with your own. You lift your dress over your head and throw it to the floor where it joins Art’s already discarded clothes. Now you’re both even in terms of nudity. But the fields are definitely still uneven. 

You have complete control in this setting. Art doesn’t mind it one bit. 

You reach your hands down and take Art’s grasp in yours, directing his rough palms up to your body. You place his touch on your waist, but getting the feeling that he’s allowed to touch more than that, he lifts his hands up and grazes his fingertips over your erect nipples. 

Your reaction is appreciative so Art does the movement again. He’s amid his third swipe when he remembers something. The magic button one of his old hitting partners told him about one afternoon during unwanted locker room talk. 

He sticks two fingers into his mouth, unable to help the way he stuffs them a little too far back. He only stops when he gags just once, and then he pulls the digits out, satisfied by how slick they are, and brings them between your thighs. 

It takes a moment for him to find it. He curses under his breath when he misses the first time, and grunts when he misses it the second time, but the third time is the charm. He presses at first, attempting to see if he’d found it. And when your hips jerk, he begins to draw on his memory and starts circling your clit. 

You moan, your head tipping back as you start to ride Art with more fervor. More passion is behind the way you move your hips. More determination is in the way your hands press into his torso to ground yourself. You have one hand below his navel, manicured nails scratching his happy trail while your other hand slides up higher and higher. 

And just when Art thinks you’re going to reach your target, you stop. The base of your hand presses into the top of Art’s sternum while your fingers lay across his collarbones. You’re so close. Just a little …

“Higher. Please.” 

You don’t say anything, you don’t give him a look, you just do as he says. You push your hand up higher until you find the other end of the magnet. 

When your fingers wrap around his throat, Art groans from deep in his stomach. It comes from a place he’s only ever accessed during an intense game. Never during something like this. Briefly, he wonders if this could be considered a game. But if it is, it’s one he’s losing. He’s not even bothering to fight back. You’re dominating him and he likes it. Hell, he fucking adores it. 

You’re the one in control here, so it’s only natural that Art asks for your permission to cum. 

The need steadily approaches, pushing through his body, working its way through the maze until it finds the end which leads directly up into you. 

“‘m close,” he warns. “Can I cum? Please? Will you make me cum?” 

You nod fervently. Art sighs, he relaxes into the bed with a delusional belief that he’ll get to cum any moment now. 

Your words clear things up for him. “Make me cum first, Art. Then I’ll return the favor. Deal?” 

He doesn’t pout or complain. He just agrees. “Deal.” 

He uses his free hand to grip your hip and speeds up his touch on your clit. His fingerpads slip down just a bit to gather more wetness, and then he brings his touch right back up and settles it right onto the part of your clit that protrudes the most. 

The sight of you cumming is so beautiful. Just this one hit, this one time, is surely enough to make Art addicted. While he watches you cum, taking in the way your chest pushes your tits out and your head throws back, revealing the gorgeous line of your neck, he thinks that he wouldn’t mind if you had his kid. As long as it guaranteed that you would always be in his life. 

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get to make his sex-hazed thought a reality as you pull off of him, ignoring the way your cunt is gripping him with resistance. You settle beside him, sitting with your legs tucked under you. Your hand comes to Art’s cock, and it only takes a few strokes before his hips are lifting and he’s cumming. 

You press your lips to his while he releases, stroking him determinedly while you kiss him messily, lots of saliva and tongue swapping between the both of you. When your hand around his throat tightens just a bit, Art’s hips stutter, and his cock twitches in your hand. He can feel you grin against his lips. 

“Let me clean you up?” You ask him with the prettiest smile. He’s dazed when he nods, not really knowing what he’d just agreed to. When you settle between his legs, Art almost backs out. He’s still sensitive, he knows it without you even touching him. But it’s rude to push a pretty girl away when she’s offering to use her mouth on him. 

So he sits through it. 

He fists the bed sheets and tries to swallow his groans whenever you lick the cum off of his torso. He accidentally whimpers when you wrap your lips around his tip. And he can’t hold off the deep moan that pushes out of him when you allow his cock to sink into your mouth. 

This cavern is different than the last. A little rougher, but the constant pressure and warmth from your tongue is comforting. He was already softening whenever you first took him in your mouth, but his dick is allowed a single moment of rest. He hardens inside of your mouth, and when he’s ready, you start to suck him off. 

It’s embarrassing how quickly he’s close. But he can’t really hold off when you use your hands to push his legs a little further apart, and you abandon his dick for a brief second to bring your tongue lower, pushing the muscle along his pink-clenched rim before you drift back up. Art’s gasp is pitiful. Even to his own ears, he sounds like something out of a porno, his voice wobbling as he moans, sounding like he’ll cry at any moment. 

His back arches and he decides he needs more of you. He takes a bit more control, even though it happens accidentally. He presses a hand into the back of your head and rams his cock up into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat more than once and triggering your gag reflex. 

When he cums this time, it’s in your mouth, and you suck him clean again. He moans your name all the while, the syllables becoming more broken each time he repeats it. He thinks he’s praising you, but he doesn’t know what he’s saying. For a second there, he doesn’t even know where he is. 

Then, when he comes down, he’s silent. He’s like a cat with the way he shudders. He’s absolutely spent, labored breathing reverberating throughout the otherwise silent hotel room. You slide up to his chest, laying your head in the center. Your hand has been taken off of his neck and delicately placed into his hair. 

You play with the curls for a second before speaking. 

“You okay?” 

He nods, letting himself catch his breath a little more before he speaks. 

“Yeah. More than okay. You?” He brings a hand to your back, pulling you closer to him. You’re staring up at him from his chest, and like this, you look innocent. Heavy eyes blinking up at him, your lips pulled into a smile. 

You hum affirmatively. “Shower? Or bath?” 

Art laughs a little when he says, “Bath. Definitely a bath.” He knows that his legs would be a little too shaky to withstand a shower, and as he follows you into the bathroom, his suspicions are confirmed. He’s satisfied to see you struggle a bit with stepping into the tub. 

Sex with you was fucking amazing, and somehow, the ease with the two of you hasn’t diminished. You’re both sober, any alcohol that could have remained in your systems definitely been expelled by now, but you’re just as charming. And Art is just as relaxed around you. 

He thinks that he could exist with you for a while. 

When he awakes on his own the morning after, he thinks he was too wishful the night before. Maybe he’d been reading way too much into something that was solely a one-night stand. He sits at the edge of the bed, head hung and tail tucked, but then his mood improves just a bit when he sees your panties laid forgotten on the floor. Even when he throws them with the rest of his clothes from his suitcase, he doesn’t let his mood improve too much. 

He has pissed, showered, and is standing over the sink to brush his teeth when he sees your note attached to the mirror. 

had to leave. thought you had things to do. call me sometime. or come visit. room 1046, here until tomorrow. xx

The note is placed carefully with the rest of his belongings. 

[eros7hanatos]

➽ Sleepless Nights

Husband!Diluc x wife!afab reader Warnings: smut, breeding kink, creampie, unprotected sex, I think that’s all? Word count: 811 A/N: inspired by rice-hime’s fic “well into the weekend”. Diluc is so husband AND daddy material I can't-

art creds: asterrales

Your hands tightly grip the sheets, trying to claw your way out, weakly pulling yourself forward as Diluc’s firm hands pull your hips back; eliciting a loud moan from you.

“D-Diluc!” you scream, your voice as shaky as the rest of your body. You turned your head back to see the glistening body of your husband. He looked so pretty like this, watching you through his red hair that kept sticking on his face, whether it was from sweat or your cum, you didn't know nor care. 

“Didn't you say you wanted us to have a child, love?” he said in a tone so sweet, not matching with his rough and harsh thrusts. You gasped as he reached deeper inside your cunt, pressing onto that sensitive spot. You two had been married for a while now. He was a great husband, however he was almost always busy with work and his own things. You two hadn't had time alone for a long long time, always falling fast asleep before he had even come home. However today was different, Diluc had come back early and you told him how you felt. In a moment of weakness you let slip that you wanted a child.

“You…want a child with me?” he asked, slowly, as if he was thinking hard about what you just said.

“Yes, but it doesn’t have to be now! I understand that you're busy and don't have time. We haven't had sex since our wedding night…you’re probably too tired after working everyday.” you say, you were a bit sad, you had to admit. You would often masterbate alone, missing his fingers, his mouth, his cock… but he was busy, there’s no way he would be able to have time to pleasure you.

“Then it’s a good thing tomorrow's the weekend.” he surprised you. You look at him, wide eyed.

“B-but what about the tavern? and the winery? They’re both open on weekends.” 

“Fuck it. One weekend is worth putting a baby in you.” 

And that’s how you got to this situation. Completely fucked out under Diluc. Archons, how long has it been? You then feel that familiar sensation in your lower abdomen, cunt clenching around Diluc’s cock. You screamed, but no noise came out of your throat as you came once more, sucking your husband dry.

“F-fuck. Y-you have such a beautiful cunt, love. All mine. Let me fill you up again, fill you up until I’m sure you’ll bear my child.” 

His pace slows, pulling his cock out just below the tip to watch the mixture of yours and his juices ooze out of you before slamming back in. Even as his pace slowed, you felt as if he reached even deeper inside you, poking your womb gently. As if giving it a gentle kiss every time he thrusted.

“D-Diluc!” you moan, chanting his name over and over again, like a mantra. You can feel every inch of his cock, every vein, every crevice rubbing against your walls wet with slick. The sounds of vulgar and messy sex that bounces off the walls drives you crazy, the stench of his cum and yours adding to your madness. “F-feels so good. N-need more of your- Ahh! c-cum!”

“I’ll give it all to you, love. Sh-shit- you’re clenching so tight. J-just lie back there while I pump you full of my seed.” 

You feel your cunt pulse, clenching and convulsing, that familiar electric feeling had come to greet you once more. “D-Diluc! C-cumming! ‘M c-cumming!” 

“Hah, hold it out, please, for me love? Want us to- Ngh! C-cum together.” Diluc grunts, fastening his pace and deepening his thrusts, reaching places that you’ve never known he could. You whine and scream, trying your best to delay your high as tears fall from your eyes.

“D-Diluc!” 

“A-almost there, love. Gonna put a baby in you!” he says, looking at you through the curtain of his blazing red hair once more, his grip tight on your hips as he slams into you over and over, chasing his own high. With a few more harsh thrusts, Diluc grunts, “C-cum for me love. G-gonna breed you so well-” 

You both scream, almost in unison, reaching your peaks as a familiar warmth fills your insides. His thrusts continue, letting you ride your high as well as his as he continues giving you his seed which you welcome with open arms, ahem, open legs.

After a moment he stills inside you as your head falls onto the bed sheets below you. You breath heavily then let out a loud gasp as you feel rough fingers brush your clit gently. 

“D-Diluc?!” you say, breathlessly as it turns into a moan. Suddenly, you felt his hips snap into action, slamming into your still sensitive cunt as you cry out in overstimulation.

“I said the weekend. We’ve barely even started, love~”

[starseternl]

i. stardust; azriel.

synopsis : azriel x half-seraphim!reader. your first starfall with the inner circle, nerves dizzying you like wine. what's worse? watching your love for azriel go unrequited as he dances with anyone but you. but ... is it really unrequited?

warnings : mild swearing, insecure reader / comparing herself to elain, fast-paced emotions, rushed ending, unedited.

a/n : this is my first fic writing for acotar here so pleasee bare with me ( this is also unedited / not proof read, so i apologize for any mistakes ) <3 i hope i did azriel some justice :,) no huge warnings here, just fluff with a hint of angst in between. and absolutely no hate to elain !! she’s the loml tbh.

word count : 6,271

Seventy years.

That’s how long you’d known Rhysand’s family. How long you’d known Azriel.

Seventy years, and yet, this was your first Starfall with them. After all, you had felt too guilty, leaving your boss – Madja – lonely on such a beautiful occasion. The woman wasn’t one for extravagant parties, and often stayed in as the two of you cooked together, much like a mother and a daughter would. Sure, it wasn’t much . . . And it certainly didn’t feel any different from your typical weekends. Yet, the warmth of the moment always had you savoring it. Madja was hard on you, but it was undeniable, the maternal instinct she seemed to possess.

But no amount of beef stew or spiced tomato soup could ever amount to what you felt now.

You stood before Morrigan’s bedroom mirror, unsure of what to do with yourself. Was that even you, staring back? Your eyes were wide, lined with kohl and a strange, silver paste, almost hidden behind your curled lashes. Your lips, parted in a small gape, were the color of aged wine – shining. Dark.

Tempting.

You wanted to congratulate Mor on the work of art she had produced out of you – but before you could utter another word, your gaze fell to the dress.

And, oh, was it breathtaking. 

Your bodice cupped your chest like it was molded to you, skin-to-skin, the velvet softer than anything you’d ever had the pleasure of feeling. The deep cobalt blue shifted in the light, almost like molten lapis, placing perfect emphasis on your curves, catching the glow of faelights in just the right spots. You’d never worn anything sleeveless before; you’d always thought them to look boring. But looking down past the sweetheart neckline, to the thick ribbon wrapped around your waist, lacing up your back, ending in that long, perfect bow … Even you had to admit it was a work of art. 

You lifted the satin skirts, peering down, wondering if –

“Don’t do that!” Mor playfully hissed at your side, swatting your hands down and away from the delicate material. “You’ll wrinkle it … I spent good money on this dress, you know.”

But you didn’t have the heart to banter, now. Your mouth felt dry as you gravitated towards the mirror, fingertips grazing its surface. “This doesn’t feel real,” you admitted with an exhale, so quiet that your friend barely even caught it. 

Her gaze softened a fraction, swiftly standing at your back, fingers adjusting the material lacing you together. Honestly, you were thankful they were there; it felt like the only thing keeping you from crumbling. You had been longing for this for years after meeting the Inner Circle. But, now? Coming to their little Velaris party made you feel as if you were officially one of them. Their friend, their family. 

You almost trembled as you – gently, this time – swept your skirts off the floor, taking small steps towards the door, making great attempts not to trip over the blonde’s brand new heels, the ebony leather so fine it barely cut into your flesh. She stifled a laugh at your poor attempts, offering you her bare arm to steady yourself. You graciously accepted, sheepishly gripping your billowing skirts tighter in your free palm. Not that you could admit such a bold claim aloud, but it wasn’t the shoes that had you dizzy. You had worn ridiculous heels many times in your life; boots, stilettos . . . This shouldn’t have been an issue.

Instead, what shook you was the knowledge that he would see you. You, in your sapphire dress. You, clumsily dancing for the first time in years. You, always embarrassing yourself. Always the fool.

The shadowsinger, your muse. He was so graceful, so lovely. Untouchable. Everyone could see that he deserved someone of pure light. Someone soft, like a blanket of warmth. Something you could never be, you supposed. For all you were good at was healing flesh wounds. You never knew how to navigate a faerie’s heart, how to soothe the cracks and wounds. 

A muscle ticked in your jaw as the two of you pushed Mor’s bedroom door open, your expression only relaxing as your friend let you go once you’d reached the great, spiraling staircase. The sisters, on the other hand, filed out of a room to the left – each one striking. Nesta in death’s black, ink dripping down every pore. Feyre, in a familiar shade of starlight silver, practically glowing with joy as she bounced little Nyx in her arms. And Elain . . . 

You felt a twinge of jealousy upon seeing how stunning she looked tonight. Mauve sweeps of tule and silk hugged her hourglass figure like it was art, the draping sleeves like wisps of petal. Her skirt fell to the floor in great volumes – she looked a bit like a flower, herself. You suddenly felt that confidence, blazing and bright, dwindle down to nothing but a spark. A new reminder that you were like her shadow. Pretty, but never enough to be seen, not while Elain existed. You bit down on your cheek to keep yourself from potentially hurling, stepping to the side in a swift bow as the Archerons passed, teetering down the staircase as one. Feyre had ordered you not to do so, as you were ‘family.’ Even so, you could never suppress the urge. 

It was pitiful of you, you had to admit. Elain … She’d never done anything wrong. Perhaps it was merely nature to blame another on your shortcomings, but even when that sinking feeling dove deep beneath your skin, guilt plagued and ate at your heart. Again and again she’d bake sweet cakes and cookies for you – again and again she’d bring you flowers, bright smiles. All because she knew you were unsteady, afraid. Yet you couldn’t stop. Not when Azriel’s gentle smiles only seemed to bloom for her sunlight. 

Only when you heard hushed chatter and laughs did you spring back up, sucking in a breath. You peered over the edge, stomach churning as you watched the shadowsinger transfixed by the doe-eyed female. How could you join them, now, when you realized you had no one to talk to? Cassian and Nesta. Amren and Varian. Rhysand and Feyre. Azriel and Elain. Even Mor had found her place beside a newly bashful Emerie. You had been hoping that Gwyneth would join you – but the Nymph stayed in the Library, tending to books with Clotho. 

Ripping the handrail, dark nails scraping, you quietly made your down, inch by inch, silently, in hopes no one would see, and –

“Oh, you sure clean up nicely,” came Cassian’s whistle of approval. You groaned, stopping halfway to the floor to dramatically hang over the railing. 

“Did you really need to do that? I was trying to be discreet,” you huffed, hands on your thinned waist. You quickly finished your descent, ready to knock heads with the male, his chest puffed out in rather unnecessary pride.

And you would have, if the weight of a certain gaze tore at your focus. Your eyes slid to Azriel’s, and for once, he didn’t shy away. He only watched, those smooth, pretty lips parted in something resembling awe. Elain glanced between the two of you, and for a moment, you could have sworn excitement – anticipation – flash in her lovely brown eyes. 

You practically floated towards the Illyrian, drinking him in. That dark hair, clumsily styled into a dark pool of voluminous strands. The way his white blouse – a shade you rarely saw him in – was ever so slightly unbuttoned, revealing hints of his tattoos. But what really caught your eye was the velvet blazer of deepest blue. An article of clothing that perfectly matched your gown. 

You, painfully, let your eyes drift to the blonde fae, raising your brows, as if you say, you did this? Mor only grinned, looping her arm through Feyre’s ignoring your inquiry. 

But, in the meantime, Azriel hadn’t stopped watching you, from the moment he saw you take the first step towards the hall. He knew you’d be wearing cobalt tonight. He had specifically asked Mor, in fact, smitten and riddled with nerves. But what he didn’t anticipate was how it made him feel. It was the same blue that shone in his siphons, and his heart stirred, a strange sense of warmth rising to his head and chest. It was as if you were his. His to hold, his to touch, his to kiss. His shadows danced, a wisp curling around your neck and winding through your hair, like a necklace. He could feel them giggling like children.

Before he even had the chance to get ahold of the shadows, you were already laughing with them, a finger gently coming up to examine your newfound jewelry. 

The male stepped closer to you, rose dusting his cheeks. “They seem to be in a good mood.” He watched you play with them, the one laying on your collar bones shifting to wind itself up and around your forearm, like a serpent, loyal to its mistress. “They like you, I mean,” Azriel clarified as you peered up at him. 

“How cute …” you murmured in awe, feeling them pulse against your skin. You met his hazel eyes once again, unable to wipe the grin off your face. “They’re beautiful.”

Beautiful beautiful beautiful. He couldn’t help the small, careful upturning that graced his lips as he let a million thoughts wander through his head. You’re the one who’s beautiful, he wanted to respond – but for the sake of his nerves, and yours, he held his tongue. Instead, he hummed, “We match, you know.”

Your eyes widened, as if you had hoped he wouldn’t notice. “Ah … Right,” your eyes widened, pupils dilating further, “I swear, I didn’t plan this. It’s a coincidence. If I knew you were already wearing blue, I would have asked to change – I don’t mean to steal your thunder.”

Azriel barked an uncharacteristically joyful chuckle, throwing his head back for a moment, the blush dusting his cheeks only glowing a bit brighter. Something you failed to see, eyes stuck to the arch of his throat, the way the muscles moved, his tattoos coming to life. “No,” he gently countered once he’d come down from the clouds. “I think it looks nice. You – we – look nice. Blue suits you.”

And as your lips curled, Azriel thought his heart may have stopped. Had he done that? Him? A sense of pride sparked in his blood, his shadows flaring in reply, still ever so unresponsive to their master. You could feel the way they seemed to shy against you, the dense air they washed over your skin warming – you could’ve sworn it felt like a flush. 

You were so enchanted with the creatures, with the peace they brought you; the way it washed over your senses, so much so that you completely missed the velvet-smooth voice that filled your ears. It was an effort to look up from the shadows – after all, you were more than content to sit right there on the floor and play with them all evening, dress and all. But nothing else mattered when a gentle shiver spread through your body, a silken sensation blooming at your shoulder. Your eyes narrowed to the  – albeit, gloved – hand that rested on your skin. You didn’t need to see the scars beneath, to know who it was.

Azriel gazed down at you with eyes so full that something in your chest ached in response, drowning under the waves of thousands of words unsaid. You couldn’t read them, each syllable too muddled, too deep to reach – but you knew something was there, lurking beneath those amber irises. “Could you repeat that?” you finally murmured, clasing your hands before you. Your tone was sheepish, the very admission an embarrassment. 

“I asked if you would save me a dance,” he clarified. You could hear it, the slight tremor in his voice. He was a master of physical arts, and his body didn’t often betray him – only you knew Azriel well enough to gauge the nerves in his words. “I know you have a duty to dance with Rhys, and Cass is going to snag you, as he does to every pretty lady. But I think I’d regret it, if I didn’t get at least one with you.” 

How could you say no? How could you be sensible, think of the consequences, when that stare was so sweet? It was a look you could never refuse, not even when you knew accepting would break your doe-eyed friend’s heart. 

Yes; you saw how Elain looked at him, how her rosy lips parted when he walked into a room. She sat up straighter beside him, seemed to speak louder. Like a star hidden by the mountains, rising into the sky to be admired by all. Around Azriel, the girl bloomed. And every hushed compliment from the Shadowsinger was a seed planted along that pale skin, growing until she could one day love herself as much as everyone else seemed to love her. It was shameful, to live off another’s joy … But watching how smooth they were together, you couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to be loved by him. Selfish. You knew she loved him first, yet you craved him more than all else. You knew you had no right to want his touch, to crave him like air, but you did both. He was your air, yes – the kind that burned your lungs, coughing on stardust, too much to look at, blinding, suffocating –

“Yes.” 

The word came choked, pulling you from the waters of your mind. “Yes, of course,” you repeated again, softer this time. You were never a dancer, could never drift across the ballroom like shallow water. But with him, it felt different. Wings could sprout from your back – you could fly, when his spotlight was on you.

The male’s face seemed to relax with the acceptance, warmth spreading to his cheeks. You were in your own little world, a fragile bubble that you wanted to stay in forever … Until a louder, feminine voice put a pin in it. 

“Right, we get it, you want to tear each other’s clothes off,” Mor teased with a groan, red gown twisting as she faced the two of us, Emerie peeking out from behind her. “But I’m not missing Starfall because two insufferable idiots refuse to get a move-on. I’ve got things to do.” She winked, and with the click of her tongue, Rhysand nodded. Nodded – but you could see the smirk on his lips when his gaze fell on Azriel.

“As refreshing as this is,” he agreed, “we have a duty to make an appearance. Lest you want to be chastised by our people, I suggest we leave.” He had taken Nyx from the bundle in Feyre’s arms, bouncing the babe in his own large embrace. The boy was grasping at his fathers blue-black hair, pulling at the strands.

You brushed past the Illyrian to stroke Nyx’s head, cooing for the small child. Barely a toddler, and you could tell he’d grow to be as strong as – if not stranger than – his father. But it certainly brought no fear, often surrounded by the coddling of the adults around him. 

As a half-Seraphim, yourself, you were less on the … Territorial side. Your instincts were more like a soft duvet, contrary to Azriel and Cassian’s hammer-like tendencies. Thanks to this, the Night Court’s heir had grown quite fond of you – of course, not nearly as much as his mother and father, but you were a close third. You swept the black-haired boy into your arms, holding him at eye-level with you, his chubby fingers reaching for your pearls and jewels. “Ah-ah,” you tutted, a mock frown placed on your painted lips. “I know these are pretty, but your Auntie spent her hard earned money on these. You can touch when you’re older.” 

Nyx seemed to deflate with the rejection, and you almost felt guilty for the poor thing. His mother, donned in white, cupped his little face in her hands and pressed a kiss to his head. 

“Now, let’s not get pouty … You’ll perk right back up when you see the treats Elain made for the party,” the High Lady hummed. At the word “treats”, he seemed to glow once again, tiny wings flapping as Feyre took him back, bouncing him against her chest. You couldn’t help the giggle that slipped past your lips, the scene painted perfection. You were glad to see your friend with such a loving family around her – she deserved it.

A cool breeze grazed your back and you strained your head to peek behind you, eyes drinking in a torso covered in black, white, and blue. “Let’s not keep Nyx waiting. He’ll grow impatient,” Azriel suggested, that quiet, smooth voice loud in your ears. You could feel his shadowed smirk, that silent humor. He reached a gloved hand out to you and your heart seemed to melt. Was he really asking to escort you? You slid your fingers between his, feeling the rough, charred skin mold to the tight fabric of the gloves. It was a familiar sensation, comforting. The nice thing about loving the Shadowsinger? You always knew. You knew it was him when he’d touch your arm, scarred fingertips all too easy to feel. You knew it was him when you saw shadows snake across the floor of every room, moments before you saw him. Mother, you even knew him down to that night-chilled mist and cedar scent. It blanketed you on drunken nights in which he walked you back to your room in Feyre’s estate, lingering even when you’d crawled into bed and fallen asleep like a rock. His hand tightened around yours, sliding his arm so it supported yours, linking your bodies together. Something about his shadows seemed more careful than before, like summer air. 

You supposed you wouldn’t mind if your hair got ruined if it meant Azriel got to fly you there. Mor could deal with it.

***

By the time the Illyrian set you on the pavement outside The Rainbow, you were already exhausted. Yes, you were a night owl – fitting for the court you stayed in – but the heavy jewels stuck to your arms, your neck, and the weighted material of your dress – it all had you wanting to sit down and doze off for a good few hours. You knew your feet would ache by the end of the evening. You could hear the booming music, the orchestra’s melody brighter than the stars, the cheers of Rhysand’s subjects as he led his mate and son down the stairs. You could almost picture it without seeing it then; the Lord and his Lady, glorious like the moon. 

You let the Spymaster set your hand on his, leading you down the steps, ebony wings never quite dragging as you followed him. You had wanted to thank him for the fly, an excuse to talk to him amongst the vast expanse of people –

But something else caught your eye.

The sky. 

Your lips parted in wonder, a sort of floating sensation spreading through your body. It was beautiful. You knew starfall wasn’t about the actual glowing dots in the sky, but the spirits, coming to visit in star-shaped forms. And you watched the large bodies descend from the pool of black, silently colliding with the streets of velaris, leaving the pavement sprinkled in glittery, illuminated substances. it painted the streets, the buildings – you felt like you were standing in a fantasy. things felt … peaceful. soft. 

“Pretty, aren’t they?” Cassian smirked from behind you, an arm slung around Nesta’s waist – much to her teasing dismay, as she mouthed a short “possessive baby,” to you. You nodded at the warlord, the corners of your mouth lifting … only for them to fall right back down when he added, “Yeah. They’re dying out every year. One day, they’ll be gone.” 

You gasped, brows dipping. Your stomach seemed to churn, your gaze on the spirits suddenly grew heavy, sorrowful. Your excitement died down to a sort of mourning. You knew you’d be alive another, what, five hundred years? More? Would they be gone by then? Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Nesta jab her mate in the stomach, scolding him for the sudden trainwreck of angst. 

You spent most of the party sitting around members of the court, sipping expensive wines and gazing up at the glass roof, coated in that glowing powder. You couldn’t keep your gaze off of it – not when Rhysand swept you into a waltz, his dancing skills smooth as you remembered from Under the Mountain. Elegant as the dark, night incarnate. He certainly lived up to the name, gliding across the marble floor with such ease that you almost slipped on your own two feet, practically being dragged around like a ragdoll. You excused yourself shortly, handing him off to his wife, who scowled when he seemed to pout, clearly enjoying torturing you, ever the brother-figure. You knew he’d be in it for a mouthful at home. It made you chuckle, even when Cassian took the chance to wrap his arm around yours, that boysterous demeanor louder with the consumption of so much alcohol. You could smell it on his breath, and see it in his sloppy dancing – and when he asked you to twirl him, the male practically playing limbo to try and fit under your raised arm. You sniggered, mocking his height – until those wings slapped you square in the face when he finally succeeded. You grumbled, excusing yourself to find a drink as his warm, hollering laughter followed you down and across the ballroom.

That left one dance owed.

Azriel.

It wasn’t that you weren’t looking forward to it. Quite the opposite, actually. Rather, it was that the shadowsinger was nowhere to be found. You knew he had the tendency to slip off into the security of his shadows during large gatherings … But what were you to do? It was nearly two in the morning, and things were coming to a close. Or, at least, the music was. It had grown softer, suitable for smalltalk and laughter, rather than dance and partying. 

Plus, Elain was missing, too, and for some strange reason, it made your skin itch. Was she with him? Had they snuck off alone, to admire the moonlight? You couldn’t blame them; she had looked lovely that evening. You admired her for it. You always had. She was there for you when others were not, an angel in disguise, fallen from the heavens. You hadn’t known the Mother was capable of creating a fae so perfect. Didn’t want to know. At least, not while it made you feel so … average. Good for nothing.

You gripped your arms, turning to gaze at your friends, huddled and chattering like a flock of birds. Radiant. Untouchable. Did you belong there, with them? Placed on a pedestal, to be admired and feared and loved? It had you wanting to hurl, a shiver making its way up your back. You swiftly jerked your head forward, heels clacking, feet aching as you slipped down a dark hall, relishing in the way the voices and music seemed to die down the further you walked. 

You reached a small archway, illuminated only by the bright moonlight, a small breeze leaking in through it. You stepped past the threshold, finding yourself on a familiar balcony – familiar not by memory, but by description. Feyre told you about it many times, about how she’d shared her first genuine moment with Rhysand there. You scoffed and shook your head, the irony lifting your mood. Leaning on your forearms, the railing cool on your skin, you let the wind ruffle – if not ruin – your hair, eyes fixated up. You’d miss it, when those little glowing shapes were nothing but a whisper of dust in the world. Despite being pissy at Cassian for soiling your spirits with the fact, you were also grateful, because it meant you could savor their presence just a tad bit more. 

“Feeling overwhelmed?” You instantly knew who that voice was. Without turning, you responded with a hum. “I needed a bit of quiet. You Illyrians can be insufferable.”

Azriel barked a laugh, the sound so genuine and rare that you felt your chest stir. He sounded like pure starlight, and you wanted to fall into it. “Maybe so, but I don’t see you leaving.”

“Because you fools would go batshit insane if I ever did.” I manage to roll my eyes, fighting back a love-struck smile. “What’ve you been doing all night? I thought you’d be more into the celebration. I know parties aren’t your thing … But I was told you adored Starfall.” Az considered, the material of his suit creasing. “Elain asked me to take her to The Rainbow’s gardens. We watched the spirits from there – better view.” 

Truth. You could tell by the way his voice softened, the corners of his eyes relaxed, his shadows hiding nothing. Your stomach dropped, as though you hadn’t seen it coming. Of course he was with Elain. When was he not? You pressed your lips together before replying, eyes dropped from the sky to your clasped fingers. “Mm. Had I known, I would’ve stayed outside … Cass and Rhys practically danced the soles of my feet off.”

You heard a deep, joyous rumble to your left. “Did Cassian step on your toes?”

I sighed dramatically, neck craning. “Obviously. And gave me one Hel of a nosebleed”

“I’m sure I could do better. I like to think I’m in control of my own body.”

You shook your head, lips twitching. “Finally offering me that dance you wanted?” I joked, lifting my skirts.

“You know I’m not one to break a promise,” came his reply, that dark smirk on the panes of his face. You giggled, turning to exit the balcony and make my way down to the ballroom. “Race you?”

Rather than complying like he usually would, the male caught hold of your wrist – gently, but hard enough that you halted. 

“Stay.”

Your heart couldn’t have thundered as loud as it did then. Heat rose to your cheeks and you turned your head to look at him – really look at him, for the first time in hours. And, gods, did you regret it. Flushed by the cold in the wind, hair disheveled, falling into his eyes … You were done for.

“Stay?” you parroted, head cocking to the side. “There’s no music up here.” Half truth; music leaked from below, but it was so quiet, our hushed voices could easily cover it. 

“I know. But if we go down there, we’ll be bombarded with those busybodies. I want it to be –” he shook his head, a glow rising to his cheeks. “Just … Stay.”

Your heart melted, shoulders slumping, the grip on your skits loosening as you faced him. He wanted you to be alone. Just the two of you. He may not have outright admitted it, but you could see it on his face, the hopeful shimmer in those hazel eyes, like honey. It was often like this, with you two; unbeknownst to your friends, your relationship wasn’t all teasing and joking. No – outside their gaze, in the shadows, the two of you oftentimes dwelled in silence together. You had trouble sleeping most nights, and came shuffling out of your room for milk and tea, a book clutched in your hands. And Azriel? His shadows simply never shut up. Sleep wasn’t much of an option for him. It became tradition, your nightly meet-ups on the roof of Feyre’s manor, laughing and indulging in Rhys’s good wine. It was the first time you’d seen the large man drunk, suddenly becoming needy and sensitive, like an oversized baby. 

You’d been staring at him a moment too long, eyes locked onto his parted lips, those flushed cheeks. Shaking your head, you finally turned your body, nearing him with a carefulness akin to approaching a wounded deer. “Okay,” you finally breathed. You knew you were a mess, so late into the evening. Tangled, frizzy hair, wrinkles on your dress. But little did you know, you’d never looked more beautiful to Azriel. 

Without another word, his hands were on you. They cupped your waist, guided your hands to his shoulders, with such grace that you swore he had experience. Maybe the Spymaster was a playboy, as strange as that was for a male of his kind. 

But all thought emptied from your head when he guided you by the hips so you were centimeters from him, face so close to his chest you could feel the warmth coming in waves. Could feel his shadows tenderly stroke your cheek, winding around your neck and shoulders like scarves. You couldn't even bring yourself to touch them, play with them – not while your hands were on him, feeling muscle shift beneath his skin and clothes as he swayed you, ease and relaxation working its way into his step. Even with no real music, no tempo, Rhysand and Cassian’s dances paled in comparison to this (not that Cassian’s had much appeal … That man was like an ostrich with a broken ankle on the dance floor). This, with those eyes gazing down at you with such peace. This, listening to his every breath, the way it seemed to catch when you moved to sling your arms around his neck, bringing you impossibly closer. This was what you loved most. 

You knew Azriel couldn’t go farther than touching a female’s hands without beating himself to a pulp – knew he ridiculed himself too much, as too afraid. Yet, something changed in him when he brought a hand previously on your waist to your head. It was by no means a harsh action, but rather something done with such softness that your heart fractured. He cupped the back of your head, fingers buried in the soft strands of your hair, and brought your head to his chest, letting you rest your cheek against the soft silk of his dress-shirt and blazer. You were no longer dancing – you were moving, like plants in the wind. But it was too intimate to be labeled a dance. You were simply holding one-another. Holding on to something you couldn’t quite place. 

“I’m … Glad I got one dance in tonight.” His voice seemed to vibrate across his body, sending waves down your cheek. You couldn’t see his face – not when yours was stuck to his chest, but you could hear something sweet in his tone. 

I huffed against the silks and cotton, inching back to get a good look at his expression. “You didn’t dance with anyone else? Not even Elain?”

He raised a dark brow, shadows swirling around his back. “Lucien would gut me if I dared to try.”

“Lucien isn’t here tonight.”

“Mm. Something Elain was awfully upset about. It wasn’t on my bucket-list, though.”

Surprise coursed through your veins, going right to your thundering heart. He didn’t want to dance with her? The female who was practically the belle of the ball? And she … Was waiting for Lucien. You couldn’t quite believe it, but you knew the shadowsinger wasn’t one for lies. For a spymaster, he was a terrible actor to anyone who knew him. He could lie to enemies, to his brothers when it counted. But otherwise, those cheeks would be dusted in pink, gaze practically oozing nerves. 

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled from your throat. “Well, I am more than honored to be your first pick,” you teased, jabbing him between the ribs. 

But Azriel was unfazed. Where you had expected a laugh, there was only his heavy stare, his parting lips. “You’re the only one I ever want to dance with.”

Your heart seemed to stop its beating right there and then. Your throat, dry like sandpaper, seemed to keep so many thoughtless words as you could only stare up at him, quite aware of the heat rising to your face. You’re the only one I ever want to dance with. 

What the hell did that mean?

“I know I’m one hell of a dancer, but you need to give Rhys some credit, too,” you finally bit out, the breezy jest you’d intended to lead into your tone coming out strained, nervous. 

Azriel bit his lip, those shadows swirling to cup his face, his neck, peeking over the expanse of his wings. He was … Embarrassed. “You don’t understand,” he murmured, a scarred – and gloveless, you noted – hand reaching to cup your face – then stopping before it could reach the skin you so desperately needed him to touch. “I – you don't …” he huffed, raking those fingers through his hair. “You are much denser than Cassian tried to let on.”

Denser.

It hit you like an arrow to the chest, a zing of shock shaking you to your very core. Was this him confessing? You mindlessly blinked, makeup-covered lashes fluttering. The male you had been pining after for years wanted you. In retrospect, it made sense. He always sat by you, always did things for you, always protected you, first. But there was always an excuse to bypass the information like it was nothing. The way he once loved Mor, that he was simply a kind soul … Which was the truth, beneath the hard mask of the Night Court’s Spymaster. 

Then, Elain. But Elain wasn’t in the picture anymore, not when Azriel had just revealed her little affairs with Lucien. Not when he was admitting that this was all so, so real.

“Az –” you choked out, reaching for his hand, taking it in yours. His scars were warm, and despite how he refused to look you in the eye, his fingers clutched yours so desperately that you swore you felt tears well, burning you. “Are you trying to – do you … Fuck, this is hard.” You exhaled, a sudden wave of nerves hurling at you. You didn’t know what to say, what to do, where to look – and hell, he looked so pretty, with those rosy cheeks and messy hair. You opened your mouth to finally just say it, the words bounding up your throat, ready, and – 

Snap.

Your chest heaved, something missing for years, something hollow, suddenly full. Like you’d found an oasis in a desert, and you couldn’t waste even a single drop. You’d wondered since you were a child who your missing piece was. Who was tethered to your mind and body and heart, who was destined to be yours. 

“Mate,” his shallow, hoarse voice cut through the thick air like a prayer. 

All restraint snapped, all reason to be civil seemed to vanish as he cupped your face, thumbs running over your cheekbones. You could faintly see the outline of tears in the moonlight, coating his skin. Azriel, as you knew it, never cried. He never let himself cry, never even wallow in pity. Only that icy, silent rage. But seeing the emotion dripping down his face, all you wanted to do was hold him, tell him it was alright, tell him what you felt, that you loved him, to kiss him –

Just like that, his lips were on yours. 

Fleeting, soft – but, gods, it was perfect. You could feel the trembling of his movements as they parted, the taste of him finer than champagne, a cocktail of bittersweet anticipation and fervent affection. Your hands slipped from his, rising to loop around his neck as he fluttered against your lips, a butterfly’s kiss. A sigh, scarcely audible, escaped you, carrying with it the weight of endless nights spent yearning for that exact moment. Your fingers tangle in the inky strands of his hair, and anchor to reality, prayer that it wasn’t a dream. 

And even when you inched back for the breath that you were so bitter to need, the feeling of his touch lingered, his flavor coating your mouth, ever-present. You touched your forehead to his, and he didn’t mind that he needed to crane his neck forward to reach you. Not one bit – and especially not when you murmured into the night, meant only for his ears, a quiet “I love you.”

You felt it, the way he tensed in your embrace. Not in a defiant way, not something that spoke of regret for the moment you shared. But fear for something new – something unexplored. 

“I love you, too.”

You could have gone and cried yourself a whole new ocean right there and then, even at the price of Mor’s scolding as your makeup dripped down your cheeks. But was it your fault? You didn’t think so – not that it mattered. All you saw was him, even when your eyes went blurry and your heart seemed to burst.

Then – footsteps, a familiar male voice. “Do you think they’re fucking out there?”

“Cassian!” Nesta hissed, a slap ringing through the dark hall behind them. 

“He isn’t wrong …” Mor chirped, amusement echoing in each syllable. “Az looked like he was about to pass out when he saw her.”

Dear Mother. Of course your meddling friends wanted to stick their nose in your business. Indecent, perhaps, but you smiled all the same, rolling your eyes as the two of you listened to their ceaseless chatter.

“I think,” Azriel murmured, his wing curling around you, blocking out the moonlight and endless stars, “we should return before they start the next town gossip.”

“... Smart.”

[elysiansparadise]

hello! I hope things are well with you 💕 if it’s possible, I would love to hear your thoughts on Neptune in the 3rd house :)

Hello love! I have been slightly busy these days, but everything is fine. I would love to give you my takes on this placement. 💕

Neptune in the 3rd house

Talking to them is a unique thing, they have very deep perspectives on life, wonderful ideas capable of surprising many and the ability to see beyond the things, people and circumstances that occur around them. Naturally poetic, they dislike things that are too simple and for them a soul-touching pinch is necessary in everything that enters their minds [books, movies, music, videos, etc]. Their words can easily move the audience, there is an ethereal and touching beauty in their way of speaking. Captivating speakers even without intending to. They are an interesting and valuable mystery to discover, and I define them as a mystery because they do not usually share their ideas or thoughts with anyone, since they border on the introverted and reserved side, or in some cases even shy. They may have a great interest and knack for some branch of art, especially that which includes communicating ideas or feelings, being very effective in doing so. Many of them may doubt their abilities and also their intelligence or ability. They may be very interested in obtaining all kinds of knowledge, especially about topics that people do not dare to investigate, spiritual topics or topics that make them know themselves better on a deeper level.

In these people lies the wound of not feeling heard by their close circle, of feeling that for others what they had to say was not important, which made them close down. Within them there is a mind full of amazing ideas, an outstanding creativity that allows them to find many solutions and see things from different perspectives. They tend to be frequently distracted by the tendency to want to do several things at the same time. Daydream tendency regarding doing things they want to do or what their ideal life would be like. They may prefer deep conversations over small talk. However, these people stand out for being amazing counselors, this is due to their empathy, which makes them not advise from the point of view of what they would do, but rather what they would do if they were and lived in the context of the person. who comes to them. They have the quality of making others feel heard and understood, making conversations with them feel comfortable and natural, even if it is the first time you speak to them.

They may have difficulty following very demanding schedules or routines, preferring to do things at their own pace. They are more likely to be easily distracted and change the subject quickly. Their mind is intuitive, their sixth sense is rarely wrong, as they are excellent when it comes to reading and understanding everything around them, having the ability to read between the lines and detect all kinds of discrepancies. They adapt very easily to their environment and it is extremely difficult to lie to them. If you're not part of their inner circle or if they don't trust you yet, you'll suddenly have that epiphany: they know so much about you while you seem to know little about what lies within them. They are people with multiple interests, a curious and creative mind that leads them to dream big. Great minds that can doubt their own potential, the value of their thoughts and words even when beauty and uniqueness can be found in them. People with compassion and an ability to understand things that perhaps others are not ready to understand. They have the feeling of not finding the right words to explain what is happening inside them. Their heart can often guide their minds. The human quality in them is something that makes them beautiful beings with whom to cross paths, always leaving teachings and words that remain marked in the core of those who know them.

[cupidlovesastro]

taurus moon

taurus is ruled by venus. venus represents romance, arts, love, beauty, aesthetics, femininity, and harmony. the taurus personality is stubborn, laid back, sensual, materialistic, aesthetic, patient, consistent, stable and hard working.

moon represents emotions, intuitions, comforts, unconscious mind, instincts, spirituality, motherhood, fertility, femininity, and your home.

what does it mean when these two interlink?

taurus is a stable sign, while the moon can be unstable. people with their moon in taurus can mean that these people are slow to reaction or even emotions. they could be slow to intense emotions as well. there’s a stubbornness with these emotions, maybe you do not want to feel them, or even surprised that you feel them. you could put yourself under pressure by believing you don’t have time to be emotional or struggling with your emotional well-being. i could also see that some individuals may actually be open to their emotions and just let them pass by without reacting to them. you feel the need to be strong, especially at your most vulnerable points.

♉︎ things that could make you sad is when you are left behind, rushed, told you don’t listen, not able to do/ wear things that make you feel pretty, when you feel insecure, feeling too vulnerable, when things are hectic, and when life feels like it’s moving faster than you

♉︎ the moon represents comfort. taurus in moon can mean that you find comfort through pleasing your senses. you could like nice candles, comfort foods, a good song you enjoy, etc. things like that tend to put you at ease. shopping is also something that could comfort you, or at least browsing things. doing your make up is another thing that could calm you down, or at least distract you from life situations or emotions your having. reading books is also something i could see these individuals enjoying because it’s at your pace, and they can be romantic and really fill your imagination.

♉︎ your mother could’ve been very nurturing and loved cooking. she also could’ve been a great cook. she could’ve been the kind of mom who always had the house smelling nice, beautifully decorated house, good furniture, etc. she also could’ve preferred staying home than going out, and she could’ve been a shopper. always buying a lot of things, and i could see you mother may have been into reading, crocheting, and other activities that take time and patience. she could’ve been stubborn and maybe you two bumped head because of that. her beliefs could’ve been more traditional than yours which could’ve lead to arguments and such. she also may have been a stay at home wife, and if she wasn’t then the job she had could’ve paid a lot of money

♉︎ you didn’t have a chaotic household, where things were constantly happening. your home life could’ve been slow moving, not much happened in your house. the house also could’ve been quiet a majority of the time. your family could be very loyal to one another and caring as well. they might be strict or stern as well, and maybe even stubborn. also, they could be the type of people to never go on vacation or rarely go on vacations

♉︎ if you are into art, your art could have a lot of texture or simulate texture being there. you could also take awhile to complete your pieces, like a few days to even a few months. art takes effort and patience, which is something you have, so art could be one of the perfect hobbies for you. if this is something you take seriously, like as a career, then you could be quite pricey about your art. (not a bad thing) your art could be about love, femininity, or even just for aesthetics

[steddieas-shegoes]

Chapter 4

Chapter 1  / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3

Steve arrived home to Robin anxiously pacing.

“Steve! Oh my God. I thought you died.”

“Robin, I literally talked to you an hour ago.”

“You could’ve died in the last hour!”

He smiled at her dramatics. She had his location the entire time, and she easily could have called him any time in the last hour if she was that worried.

She wrapped him in a hug, which was shocking enough on its own, but Steve couldn’t help his confusion when she also kissed the top of his head.

She held him for over a minute and Steve started to wonder if someone had died and she didn’t know how to tell him face to face.

“Robs?”

“Dingus?”

“Is everything okay?”

“Are you okay?”

Steve realized Eddie had probably told her everything. Oh for fuck sake.

“I am begging you to never bring anything of this up to me ever. Like, even if you think it’s okay to talk about it, assume it isn’t. I am never going to talk about this with you. Not ever. Not even on my deathbed. Not even when I’m drunk.”

“Eddie said you should.”

“I will. With Eddie. Not you.”

Steve turned to walk to his room and ignore Robin for the rest of the day, but he could hear her footsteps following him.

He sighed and turned around.

“I’m fine. Eddie took care of me. I’m going back there tonight so we can talk. I’ll keep my location on and you can check in with both of us, okay Mom?”

“Wait wait wait wait. You’re going back there tonight?” Then, she seemed to remember how he even ended up with Eddie. “WAIT! Your tattoo! Show me!”

Steve could do that much at least. He’d been talking about this tattoo for so long and he was really excited about how it turned out.

Eddie had unwrapped it and done the first round of cleaning and moisturizing, making sure Steve was paying attention so he could do it by himself today.

He hadn’t been able to look away from it for nearly ten minutes, the colors more beautiful after the redness of his irritated skin went away.

He held his wrist out to Robin, unable to keep the smile from his face as she looked at it and smiled up at him.

“He did great with this. Will is gonna flip.”

“I hope he likes it. He has an appointment with me tomorrow so I’ll be able to show him.”

Will was one of his best kids. He never had to actually worry about his future, Will knew exactly what he wanted, got good grades, had nearly perfect attendance, and worked towards his goals without any help from Steve. He’d been through a lot though as a child, and his mom had insisted that he regularly meet with Steve just to talk.

He came to appointments once a week, but him, along with his two best friends Dustin and Mike, would often spend their lunchtime in Steve’s office. They weren’t exactly popular, and bullies targeted them often for their size and their interest in more nerdy things. Steve let them, even though the principal had told him he was setting them up for failure in real life. Steve always said this was real life and feeling safe wasn’t a failure.

But this tattoo would really mean a lot to Will. He hoped so, at least.

“When are you going to Eddie’s?”

“7.”

“Bring protection.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen.”

Robin just gave him a look and walked away.

Nothing was gonna happen. Eddie said so.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

When Steve got to Eddie’s place, he was already home, and…cooking?

“Something smells good.”

Steve made his way into the house, brushing past Eddie and looking around. He hadn’t spent much time noticing things earlier, but now he could.

There was a lot of art on the walls, but none of it looked like what was at the shop. This looked more abstract, with a few random watercolors sprinkled in. He noticed pictures frames along the shelves and bookcase that held more records than books. The coffee table looked cluttered, mostly books and sketches spread out along the top.

The couch was old, but looked comfy, and the armchair in the corner seemed mostly unused. A few hats hung from the corner it was placed in, none of them looking like anything Eddie would wear.

Did he have a roommate? Is that how he could afford a house?

“You can set your stuff in my room if you want. You remember where it is?”

Eddie’s voice being so close behind him startled him, but he immediately relaxed when he felt a hand on his hip.

“I remember.”

Eddie squeezed his hip once before letting him go, walking towards the kitchen instead of following Steve.

Steve took in the pictures hanging up in the hall, but didn’t get a close look at any, already rushing to get back to Eddie so they could talk. Robin had given him another look before he left that said there’d be more than talking happening tonight, but he really trusted Eddie when he said they’d be taking it easy.

He dropped his bag on Eddie’s bed, smiling to himself when he saw that the bed was made.

Eddie didn’t seem like the type of person to make his bed, so maybe he was trying to impress him?

Steve shook the thought away. Nothing is happening tonight. He may not even want you in his bed after you talk.

He made his way back out to the kitchen, where Eddie was closing the oven door and placing a casserole dish of something that smelled like heaven on the stove.

“What did you make?”

“Breakfast casserole.”

“Breakfast? For dinner?”

Eddie smirked. “No laws can hold me down.”

Steve resisted the smile he felt trying to creep onto his face.

Eddie really did a number on his whole “I don’t smile for anyone” exterior.

“What’s in it?”

“Well, normally I do a french toast one that has fruit and maple syrup, but you didn’t seem like the type to enjoy that.”

“Excuse me? That sounds amazing,” Steve crossed his arms across his chest and stared at Eddie.

“We can have that next time.”

Next time, next time, next time.

“This one is hashbrowns, cheese, eggs, and bacon with biscuits as the base.”

“That sounds…heavy.”

“We can eat heavy. We don’t have any physical activity to commit to later.”

Steve couldn’t help it, he started pouting.

A small part of him had hoped that maybe after they talked, something would happen. Not necessarily sex or even subspace, but some making out, maybe some handjobs? Yeah, he’d hoped.

But he recognized the boundaries Eddie was setting, and he respected him for sticking to them, even if he really wished he didn’t.

Eddie poked Steve’s bottom lip playfully.

“No need to pout. If our discussion goes well, maybe next time?”

“Promise?”

“You’re gonna be trouble, aren’t you?”

“I dunno. Am I?”

“And a brat. Noted.”

Steve had never, not even at peak spoiled rich kid, been called a brat. Not even jokingly. He was a little offended, but he could see the hint of a smirk on Eddie’s face letting him know that would be part of their discussion.

“Are we gonna talk during dinner or after?”

“That’s up to you. I’m happy either way, sunshine.”

Steve felt warmth spreading in his chest at the nickname. He’d never been called sunshine either. Being terminally grumpy since your teenage years kind of eliminates that possibility.

“I have some questions so maybe we could start there during dinner?”

Eddie nodded and turned to grab plates and forks for dinner.

“Before you start though, I wanna make sure you know that I will always be honest and do my best to answer your questions, but there are some things I don’t know. I’m not a professional. I’m certainly experienced, but there may be things you want to know that I’ve never done. I don’t want to mislead you, so if there’s stuff you still need to know after this, I have contacts who can probably help.”

Steve felt so out of his depth here. Eddie had fucking contacts for this.

“Stevie? You okay?”

Steve shook himself out of his thoughts. He couldn’t let himself feel nervous about this. Eddie was kind and wanted him to understand and wouldn’t expect anything of him. He could do this.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry. Just feels a little overwhelming.”

Eddie paused mid-scoop and glanced at Steve. He set the serving spoon in the dish and walked the few steps over to Steve, wrapping his arms around him gently and hugging him to his chest.

Steve quickly found his spot, nuzzling against his collarbone like he belonged there.

“That’s why we’re taking this slow, having discussions first. You can’t go into all of it the way you did last night. It’s dangerous.” Eddie rubbed his back slowly and Steve fought back the noises trying to escape from his chest. “I won’t feel comfortable doing anything at all with you until we’re both comfortable, okay?”

Steve nodded against his chest.

Eddie pulled back and tilted his chin up to look at him.

“You have to use your words, sunshine.”

“Okay.”

“You understand what I said?”

“I understand.”

“Good boy.”

Steve couldn’t contain the whine he let out. Jesus Christ, what was happening to him? He’d never been like this. He’d never made that noise before in his life.

“Alright, sunshine. Let’s eat.”

Steve didn’t want to separate from him, but Eddie didn’t go too far. He made sure Steve was right next to him as he grabbed their plates and walked to the table, setting them down next to each other instead of at the chairs across from each other.

“Don’t want you too far,” Eddie said with a fond smile.

Steve hated the way his heart skipped a beat. Eddie was going to send him into cardiac arrest if he kept this up.

But he did his best to ignore it, take a deep breath, and sit down in the chair.

His anxiety was high, and he was worried he may not be able to even eat, but Eddie took a bite and looked at Steve expectantly.

Steve picked up his fork and took a bite.

“Damn, this is good.”

“Thanks, sunshine. It’s hard to fuck this one up, but I’m glad you like it.”

Steve smiled at him and took another bite.

Where to begin?

He knew Eddie would let him lead, acting as more of a guide for the conversation than anything else, but Steve suddenly didn’t know where to begin.

“Um. I guess I kinda wanna start by saying something?”

Eddie nodded, smiling softly at him and showing him that he could be patient with whatever Steve needed to say, even if it took him some time.

“I’m not, like, a virgin. I mean I know when it comes to this stuff I kind of am, but I’ve had a lot of sex. With women and men. I mean, I almost got engaged once. I’m not new to that.” He ignored the amused look on Eddie’s face and continued, though his voice wavered. “And I’ve seen some stuff in porn or whatever. I’m not completely oblivious to how this works.”

“I don’t think you should go off of what you’ve seen in porn.” Eddie cleared his throat. “Sorry to interrupt, I just didn’t want you to think that’s accurate at all. Most vanilla porn isn’t even accurate, let alone any type of BDSM stuff. I don’t want you to think I have a dungeon or something with whips and chains attached to the walls. That isn’t what this is about for me or most anyone, really.”

Steve felt himself flush.

He’d said he wasn’t a virgin, but he’d never talked so openly about sex with anyone. He reminded himself that Eddie was still very much a stranger to him, and this kind of talk is something that close friends or significant others might have.

“What is it about? For you, I mean?”

There. That was a good start. Learning more about what Eddie did might help Steve understand what he was trying to accomplish.

“I mean, for everyone it’s about power and control or submission. But everyone has different ways of accomplishing those things and things they’re comfortable with.” He took another bite and chewed while he seemed to think of his answer. “For me, it’s about being in charge of someone’s release, whether it be sexual or not. Making someone feel good in a way they can’t experience on their own or with someone else. Having the power to know exactly what they need and give it to them or hold back. Find what makes that person tick and use it to make them feel better than ever.”

“That’s what you like? Seeing someone else get off?”

Eddie let out a small chuckle.

“I guess in a simplified way, sure. But that doesn’t always happen. You didn’t get off last night did you?”

“No, but I was dropping apparently.”

“Before that though. You still got to subspace, and you stayed there a while, even though you never got sexual gratification from it. You just felt good. Sometimes feeling good just means a plateau, not a peak and then fall, ya know? I like to help someone maintain that plateau as long as possible.” He took another bite and nudged Steve to do the same. “I love helping someone peak, too. But that isn’t always on the table.”

“What if I want it to be?”

“Getting ahead of yourself, sunshine. How about you have a couple more bites while I talk?”

Steve nodded and took another bite, watching Eddie as he formed his thoughts.

“Sex is obviously a part of this. I won’t say it doesn’t end that way most of the time. But there are parts of this that aren’t sexual at all that are still just as good. Your tattoo wasn’t sexual at all, right?” Steve shook his head. “Exactly. But you got there. Sometimes, it’s more just giving up the control. Some subs don’t even like the sex parts, you know. They like someone to give them rules and tasks to follow and punishments for when they don’t. I have a friend who is a sub who doesn’t even take off his clothes during his sessions. It’s different for everyone and it’s usually trial and error. That’s why safety and trust is such a big part of it.”

Steve felt like his head was spinning.

“Is that why people use safewords?”

“Yeah or the stop light system, or in some cases, just physical signs. That has to be agreed on before you ever go into a scene, even if it's someone you’ve done scenes with before and trust. You may love being spanked until you bruise on Saturday, but end up hating it on Monday if you’re not in the right headspace for it. It’s not just the sub trusting the dom with everything, it’s the dom trusting that the sub will use their safeword if they can’t keep going. Sometimes that’s hard for people to understand. It goes both ways. Both parties have control, just in different ways.”

“You know a lot about this.”

“I’ve been in a few serious relationships with the dynamic and all my friends have been part of the scene for years. What I don’t know firsthand, I’ve heard plenty about.”

“Okay, but what if I do want the sex stuff to be part of it?”

“If you do, then you have to be open about hard limits before you start. You have to have a safeword and use it if things start to go bad. You have to let yourself test the waters, but not jump into them if that makes sense.”

Steve nodded. It did make sense. He was probably jumping the gun a bit, but he felt like maybe he could trust Eddie to find and test his limits.

“So you wouldn’t wanna do that with me?”

“I didn’t say that, Stevie.” Eddie turned to him and placed his hands on his knees, massaging them lightly. “I’m not a jump right into anything kind of guy, even with just plain vanilla sex. But I’m really careful about starting with sex stuff right off the bat. Oh, stop pouting, sunshine. I’m not saying no.”

“But you’re saying no now.”

Steve knew he was still pouting, and maybe being a bit unreasonable. He normally took things slow too, at least when it came to more than random handjobs or blowjobs at the club. It still made him feel like Eddie might not be interested in him the way he was interested in Eddie.

“I’m saying not yet. There’s a difference. I’d love to be able to do that with you. But you need to experience more first.”

“Like what?”

Eddie studied his face for a moment. Steve felt like he could see right through him, which would have alarmed him more if he wasn’t certain that Eddie was going to be able to make him float again.

“You like to be praised.”

It wasn’t a question, but Steve nodded. He’d figured that much out at least.

“That’s a good start. You can be praised for a lot of things. Sometimes just being told to sit still and being told you’re doing good can make a person float, you know.”

Steve didn’t think he could do that. He certainly believed some people could, but he figured it would take a lot more for him.

“I don’t think I can do that.”

“Do you want to try?”

“Now? I thought we weren’t doing anything tonight?”

Steve was suddenly overwhelmed with nerves again. Despite the fact that he’d wanted something to happen when he first got here, he was now wondering why the hell he thought that was a good idea.

“It doesn’t have to be now. But it would certainly be a good start when you’re ready. Simple, non-sexual, easy to safeword out of if you get uncomfortable, unlikely to drop from it. It’s just an idea. You can always say no.”

Steve didn’t want to say no. He was nervous, sure, but he wanted it. He wanted to try. He wanted to make Eddie proud.

“Could we try tonight?”

“If you finish your supper and we talk about a safeword, yes.”

Steve took three more bites and ignored Eddie’s laughter at his clear excitement.

“So, what can we use for a safeword?”

“Up to you, sunshine. Mine is Metallica.”

“Can I use yours?”

Eddie thought about it for a moment.

“For tonight, yes. But you should have your own in the future.”

“Don’t like sharing?”

Steve smirked at Eddie, who rolled his eyes but smiled fondly back at him.

“More like you may not want to keep doing scenes with me and having your own safeword is best.” He got up and brought their plates to the sink while Steve waited patiently in his chair. “You can go sit on the couch. I’ll be there in a couple minutes.”

Steve sat on the couch with his hands folded in his lap, trying to push away any nerves he had over what they were about to do. If all went how he hoped, he’d maybe go to subspace again. Eddie sounded like he could get him there, but he didn’t know exactly what Eddie would have to do.

He didn’t have to wait long.

Eddie came into the room and sat down next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him into his side.

“Alright. We’re gonna relax for a few minutes first. You’re tense and you won’t be able to just go right into it.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, sunshine. Just let me hold you for a few minutes, okay?”

Steve wanted nothing more than to never leave Eddie’s side, his arm wrapped just tight enough around him so he felt like he couldn’t escape, his body warming him up just enough for comfort.

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, and he didn’t really care, all he knew was the next time Eddie moved, he had to open his eyes.

“Alright, sunshine. Gonna move you a little so your head is in my lap, okay?”

“Mhm.”

Eddie adjusted him so he was laying with his head in his lap and his legs out along the length of the couch. He had a hand in Steve’s hair, scratching at his scalp gently, while his other hand was tracing circles on his arm.

“Mmmm. ‘S good,” Steve mumbled against Eddie’s thigh as he let his eyes slip closed again.

“Good.” He felt a gentle tug on his hair and his eyes shot open. Eddie was smirking down at him, but went back to gently scratching at his scalp. “Just testing. You remember the safeword?”

“Metallica.”

“Good boy. You use it the second you feel like you have to.”

Steve ignored the flutters in his stomach at being called a good boy again.

It went on like this for a little while, nothing new happening. Steve started to wonder if Eddie understood what the purpose of this was, when he suddenly felt Eddie stop all movement.

He whimpered, then felt Eddie’s hand tug at his hair harder.

“You have to stay quiet, sunshine. Keep being a good boy for me.”

His tone was different. Not quite stern, but not as soft as before either. Steve didn’t have to know him better to know that he should listen to him.

“I’m going to watch a show. You just sit right there for me and look pretty.”

Oh. Jesus Christ.

Steve was already hard. From that? Really Steve?

He managed to stay quiet this time, but he knew the second Eddie touched him again he would moan.

But Eddie didn’t touch him again.

He turned on the tv and casually looked for a channel. When he found one, he watched with his hands by his sides, not even resting against Steve’s skin.

Steve knew this must be part of it or they wouldn’t be doing it, but he felt himself growing frustrated at not getting any attention.

Minutes passed like that. Steve wondered when Eddie would acknowledge him again, but didn’t want to risk saying something.

Then a hand was in his hair, playing with the ends as if Eddie had never stopped.

Steve let out a content sigh and closed his eyes again.

“Being so good for me, sunshine.”

Steve smiled to himself, keeping his eyes closed so he could relax fully against Eddie’s lap.

The noise from the tv turned distant, but the fingers in his hair felt like fire. Or maybe ice. Both? Could be both. They just felt nice.

Steve drifted, not realizing he was going until he was already gone.

Eddie knew the moment it happened’ Steve’s entire body relaxed entirely against him and the couch, and he let out a sigh that could’ve been held in for years with how loud it was. He didn’t open his eyes, but Eddie didn’t need to see them to know they’d be glazed over.

“So perfect, Stevie. Feeling good, huh?”

“Mmm.”

Eddie smiled down at him, even though he wouldn’t see it.

He wouldn’t let him stay down for long, just for the rest of the show.

Not that he was watching the show.

Not when he had Steve in his lap, floating away because of his gentle touches and words.

Chapter 5

TAG LIST:  @invisibleflame812 @inmoonywetrust @captain-daryn @carlyv @lillemilly @spectrum-spectre @raisedbylibrarians @estrellami-1 @gregre369 @mightbeasleep @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @bornonthesavage @loguine-linguine @bejeweledbaby @bisexualdisastersworld @eddiemunsonswife @sadcanadianwinter @messrs-weasley @i-write-stories-not-sins-bitch @maya-custodios-dionach

[don-daygamerz]

Long Way For Love

Ben Barnes x Reader

Requested by: @marimorena06

Request: Heyy!What about a friends to lovers with ben Barnes? ❤

Warnings: some swearing (I think), descriptions of intimacy (not smut just major fluff)

Word count: 4.4K

Italics - thoughts

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Love occurs in many ways. It can happen on the brightest days or the stormiest nights. It can happen on purpose or by accident. It can even happen through gain or loss. Love is a powerful and enigmatic feeling. It can either build you or destroy you. But did you know that love can sometimes not happen instantly? Yeah…Love can take its sweet time to even be realized. That’s what this story is about. And it began with a young man and a young woman.

The young man was named Benjamin Thomas Barnes but Ben Barnes in short. Catchy right? (It even made the woman blush just thinking about it) And our young fair maiden who would soon be the object of Ben’s affections was none other than (Name) (Middle name) (Surname). Ben had thought to himself of what a sweet name she had…beautiful, actually. The two first met on the set of ‘The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian’. (Name) was an aspiring actress and had landed the role of Selene, sorceress, and protector of Narnia. The two instantly connected and were a great support to one another.

They immediately became fast friends and were happy to share some interests and acting tips through their experiences. Ben was always happy to share with (Name) their love of literature, the classics, art, music, poetry, and so much more.

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“So you’re telling me you lied about knowing how to horse ride?” (Name) gave him a shocked but inquisitive look after hearing his confession. The man in question became bashful and wanted the couch he was sitting on to swallow him whole. Why did he have to tell the pretty girl he lied about being a pro at horse riding?

“I wouldn’t say I lied…”

“Oh boy…ha ha ha…I’d like to hear this,” (Name) chuckled at her companion. She needed to hear his hilarious excuse as to what made him think he could get away with such a ‘dark’ secret.

“Ok, ok. Shush…Don’t you want to hear the actual truth?” he asked her.

“You’re right. My apologies, your highness. I did not mean to disrespect you in the slightest,” she said to him in her best posh British accent while giving a mock bow. Which was not bad at all. (Name) was not only an aspiring actress but also dabbled in some voice acting. That was one of the things that fascinated Ben. She was so talented.

After her little antic, Ben could not help but playfully roll his eyes at her. “Anyway…As I was saying,” he continued, “I did not exactly lie…exaggerate is more like it…”

“Oh yeah! You sure did exaggerate it! Ha ha! You basically preached it is what I was told when you did the auditions, ha ha ha!” Ben’s face turned red hearing her say this but he couldn’t stop the smile growing on his face. He thought her laugh was cute and funny…wait, did hear a snort?

“Alright, then when was the last time you rode?”

“Umm… Last I rode a horse was when I was little…”

“Little how old?”

“Seven or eight, give or take.”

“Benjamin Barnes! You need proper lessons! My god! You’re lucky you made it this far! What if you got hurt?!” she chided him but out of concern after hearing the rest of his truth. Ben just smiled at how worried she became. (Name) was the nurturing type among the cast members. She deeply cared for every single one of them including him.

“I’m alright now, aren’t I?”

“Luck may be your friend right now but there’s no telling when she’ll turn tail and stab you in the back…Uh, Uh, No. You need thorough practice, Mister.” She began to lecture him sternly. Ben was smart, without a doubt, but he was also stubborn.

“I am practicing.”

“Walks and trots are not enough. There are scenes where we have to ride the horses at a much quicker pace. You have to master the canter and gallops.” She was right. He just felt lost and confused at this point. “But not to worry…there’ll be an instructor and specialist. Including me.”

“You? I didn’t peg you for an equestrian.”

“One thing in life you shouldn’t underestimate is how cartoons can influence a child’s decisions and life choices,” she explained to him animatedly. Ben laughed at her delightful nature as she gave him a cute and innocent answer to how she gained the skill.

“Are you serious? You have to be joking,” he leaned in close while placing his elbows on his lap. Ben sat on the couch alone while (Name) opted to sit crisscross applesauce on the carpeted floor by the coffee table.

“Dead serious, my good sir!” she said haughtily to her dashing co-star as she sipped from her glass of wine. Ben just kept chortling after hearing how his ‘new-found’ friend committed to learning a dangerous and tough skill such as horse riding just from watching a cartoon show.

“And, pray tell what animated television show was it that influenced such a young mind to study a perilous skill that is horse riding? Strangely I have a feeling I know what kind of show it is…” he grinned at her mischievously. Both the actors just loved to rile each other up in fits of laughter and joy. (Name) chuckled under her breath before looking up and dead straight into his eyes.

“It was My Little Pony.”

“My Little Pony! Ha ha yes! Girls in my primary school days loved that show.”

“All girls either dreamed to be an equestrian or a magical horse… for me I think it was both.”

Learning these silly things about his ‘newfound’ friend and co-star felt like an interesting and thrilling adventure. He felt like an explorer having discovered something new and exciting. Ben didn’t take into account how he could connect and share with a person like (Name). He was normally reserved but (Name) allowed him to open himself and be at ease.

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So yeah that’s how it started with the two. (Name) and Ben started off as friends…good friends actually. It was saddening to know that both actors will have to look elsewhere for open roles in upcoming films/tv shows. But that didn’t diminish their hope of losing their friendship nor contact with one another. From there, they made promises to keep in touch and send support anytime, anywhere. Ben was delighted with how things were going for him in the film industry. He had come a long way and studied hard. He began with minor roles and dabbled in music, and finally, his talent and skills were recognized.

As for our lovely (Name)? Things were also looking good for her as well. Her performance (though a minor role she had played) in Narnia astonished viewers…critiques and gave way to more opportunities for the young actress. Busy schedules, signings, interviews, making appearances, promotion of brands, and so on; this was just the beginning for the two rising but underrated stars. Not at all did it dwindle their connection…only made it stronger. All in all, they always made the time to call one another.

At the start, it was a friendship, yes. But it became more personal for the two. Secrets were shared. Families and siblings were introduced. Insecurities were confessed to one another. A lot of meaningful things were made between Ben and (Name). It was obvious to everyone around them including their families that the two were meant to be. The Barnes family adored (Name) for her selfless and kind nature towards their eldest son. And the (Surname) family was grateful to Ben for looking after their daughter in the film industry. The Barnes were also thankful for how she was patient and respectful of their son’s nature.

You know…when (Name) was first introduced to his family, they actually had mistaken her for his girlfriend. Their chemistry was good…really good that it really misguided them into believing that they were dating. But Ben’s mother knew him well. He was deeply infatuated with her. And he didn’t even know it. After a nice hearty meal in the Barnes household, Mrs. Barnes didn’t have to look further through her analytical eyes as she gazed upon her son talking so animatedly with the sweet girl.

From then on, she’d come to the conclusion that this young lady right here sitting before her was meant to be with her son. Another thing to add, the woman wasn’t getting any younger…she wanted some grandbabies.

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Support was given, secrets were shared, jokes were exchanged, and so much more. The friendship grew and strengthened, and it became apparent in the eyes of everyone how Ben and (Name) adored one another. But it became so frustrating how neither one of them took the initiative to confess to one another. Yeah, they liked each other, without a doubt. Okay, that’s a bit of an understatement so let me clarify it, Ben and (Name) genuinely loved each other (secretly and unknowingly).

However, despite the close relationship they held, they still both led different lives and hence went on different paths. (Name) would be occupied in some part of the US for a TV series and Ben would be in another part of the US in a studio working on his movie. All in all, they were busy with their schedules, interviews, and promotions.

In addition, Ben was a dashing and charming fellow so it was no surprise he was not single most of the time. He would date different girls here and there. Some he met through mutual friends and some he worked with. The relationships didn’t last long but (Name) felt she could not compare to these beautiful and striking women that caught her best friend’s eye.

Now she didn’t think less of herself. No, not one bit. She loved herself and all that she was. Her attitude was basically ‘Fuck you! My body, my choice, and besides I doubt you can handle all this!’ Oh yeah, total badass. But the point was she felt she could never fit herself in Ben’s heart. Of course, there would be some insecurities like; Was she not enough? Will she ever be enough? Does he ever see her as beautiful? Do you think he would feel the same way as she did about him?

I guess she would never know. So she lets fear cloud her thoughts and convinces her to bury those feelings deep inside and lock them away. It was better this way, she would tell herself, better to hide than leave with a broken heart and a destroyed friendship.

As for Ben’s case, he was also cooped up with his own schedule and the interviews but he always had something occupying his mind or rather someone. That, someone, was, of course, (Name). Why? Well, he wondered if she was doing okay... if she got the role she was auditioning for... if she got the package he sent her... or if was it too much. He did recall how much she enjoys candy from the UK, so he thought why not send her a box of candy.

His head wasn’t just occupied with her but his heart too. Ben couldn’t ignore how fast his heart was beating at the thought of (Name). Even with all women he has dated in his life, he always compared them to her. She was everything they weren’t. She was everything that he looked for in a woman. She was just everything and he loved it.

Yes, Ben Barnes was deeply infatuated with (Name) (Surname). And that infatuation would remain a secret for… who knows how long. Ben didn’t want to risk the chance of getting rejected and losing their friendship altogether. He couldn’t imagine losing her. He would not dare be reckless with his feelings either. But deep down… Ben wishes (Name) would one day return his feelings, so, in the meantime, he’ll just keep it all inside whilst he cherished his time with (Name) as being her best friend.

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One of the many things both the actors shared their love and joy in, was celebrating the holidays. Sure at first, these special occasions would be celebrated with close loved ones such as their families and long-time childhood friends. But it had gotten to a point in their lives that their friendship became…how to describe it…wholesome? Amazing? Fun? No, it was UNIQUE.

Ben and (Name) may have had their own circles of friends and companions but when it came to just the two of them…Things were just different really. But in a good way. And with how their friendship felt ‘unique’, many of their cherished moments included sharing some of the holidays.

It was late December but only one day before Christmas Eve. The sky was dim and cloudy as a shower of snowflakes descended upon the white blankets that covered mother earth. Our beloved (Name) (Surname) was currently settled in Ben’s humble abode and getting comfortable in the kitchen. Earlier, the young lad had received word that his old friend, (Name), was in his area and without a moment to lose nor a chance to forgo, called the actress to come over and celebrate the holiday with him.

Well, actually in truth, it may have slipped out as they were catching up over the phone. It started off as a light conversation. (Name) had come to England very early December to visit her cousin and attend an engagement party. During their chat, Ben had thought to himself of how it would be wonderful if she spent the winter holiday with him for the first time. What he hadn’t realized then was that he had voiced out his own thought. Of course, (Name) heard him. She said yes after all. What neither could tell as they spoke on the phone was how Ben was so flushed and red in the face, and how (Name) could not stop smiling to the point her cheeks hurt.

The two were filled with giddiness and glee at the prospect of spending this merry occasion with one another.

(Name) had taken up the duty of baking and was now occupied with rolling the cinnamon-sprinkled dough while mischievous and quite secretive Ben was trying to be sneaky in licking the sugary frosting. He was excited to finally eat some of his friend’s food once again. It was always a treat for him when (Name) pulled out her cooking skills and introduced her ethnic foods to him. It was actually both a treat and a learning experience for him.  

A fond memory to look back on was the first time they cooked together 9It was the first time (Name) had been to his home. She was so flustered that day but happy nonetheless that Ben was opening himself to her. It made their friendship so genuine). (Name) had quite the adorable shocked look on her face when she realized her British BFF did not always season his food properly. Well, he did. Just only salt and pepper. And if he felt like going crazy then a dash of paprika.

“Seriously? That’s a dash? More like dandruff,” she had teased him but he would pipe back saying, “I can’t help it! Don’t judge me!”

“You’re lucky you have me at your side, you uncultured Brit. That palate of yours needs some awakening. You, my handsome fellow need to have a taste of flavor!”

“You think I’m handsome?” he smirked at her which made her blush profusely.

“Ah-ah don’t change the subject! I’m here to teach you and you will thank me in the future.” Nice save, (Name), way to draw his attention away from that compliment you blurted out.

Then again, now that she looked at him closely. Ben was really handsome. He had such an adorable, infectious smile, dark alluring eyes, smooth luscious hair (which she envied so much, I mean have you seen his hair?!), and those lips…so pink, so soft, and kissable- ‘What the hell is wrong with me?! I can’t have these kinds of thoughts about my best friend! Not even, Ben!’

(Name) never saw Ben for his looks but for his personality. She found him to be kind, brilliant, humble, compassionate, caring, genuine, and… gosh, she could go on and on about the great things she sees in him. In the end, (Name) could not deny the truth…and the truth was that she was falling harder for the young actor, day by day.

“You feeling alright, love?” Ben interrupted her train of thought. Seems like she was spaced out there as her mind walked through memory lane. Now back to the present, (Name) looked back to the man that held her heart without his knowledge, and… Wait a second! Is that white frosting at the corner of his lip?! All of a sudden, (Name) boldly swiped her thumb at the corner of his lips picking the bit of frosting and bringing it into his line of sight to playfully reprimand him for his actions.

This caught Ben off guard and brought sweet chills down his back when (Name) touched him briefly. But then his eyes saw how she grumpily looked at him like he was a wanted criminal. God, did she look so adorable. He almost laughed at how she pouted so cutely like an angry chipmunk.

“Ha ha, you caught me,” he told her with hands slightly raised in surrender.

“Mhm, seriously, Barnes. What am I going to do with you?” she questioned him.

“Love me unconditionally? Cuz I think we’re low on frosting…” he trailed off nervously with a mischievous grin on his face that showed no regret in his actions. (Name)’s eyes widened slightly and looked to the bowl that held the concoction of her grandmother’s frosting.

“Ooh you dang little Brit…” she then dabbed her frosting coating thumb on his nose which made him chuckle at her reaction. “Oh well, I wouldn’t say little…” Ben replied naughtily going off perversely which made the woman blush at the thought of it which made the man chortle at her embarrassed reaction.

“Oh-Oh-you… You know what, out! Out! I need to finish this before your parents come over!”

“Are you seriously kicking me out of my kitchen?!” he laughed.

“Yes, yes I am! Because somebody keeps eating the ingredients!”

Ben just kept laughing as he let her push him out through the kitchen door but then paused as he looked up. “Oh look, mistletoe,” he pointed out. This caused (Name) to halt her movements and look up as well. And indeed, there was a mistletoe hanging at the entrance of the kitchen door. Huh, how did she miss that? Suddenly there was a stillness in the air as they both had come to the realization of what being under the mistletoe meant.

Ben’s thoughts of kissing (Name) right there and now but the risk of ruining the friendship and making things awkward between the two caused him to reel in the chance of doing so. He deeply cared for her and he would never dare try to drive her away nor scare her because he held feelings for her. He turned his body towards her and saw her staring at the mistletoe in deep thought and wonder.

She looked back at him and immediately their eyes connected. And suddenly, the world around them began to disappear and it was just them and them alone. It felt like being in a foggy dream. Ben and (Name) stood before each other staring at each other for long until Ben spoke, “Shou-should we… you know...” he barely formed his sentence but (Name) was quick to understand what he meant.

Hold on! Did Ben perhaps gesture that they commit the mistletoe tradition?! Was he serious?! So many thoughts ran through the woman’s mind. “I-I mean… It is tradition… I-If that’s what you want…” she herself found it hard to speak as well. Here she was, in front of the man that held her heart and the way he was looking at her... His face and expression held such a soft, sweet, loving, captivated look.

They coincidently held a reoccurring thought… ‘If I do this… there’s no turning back.’ Their faces then leaned in closer till they could feel each other’s warm breaths and signature perfumes. Ben smelt sweet yet woody whilst (Name) smelt fruity and fresh. Not too long did their lips collide and a passionate feeling burst between the two.

As their lips touched, they went back to recall all of their relationships and past experiences of kissing other people… none of them could compare to what they were doing. Ben felt so happy right then and there that he pushed himself to kiss the girl he’s always dreamed about and (Name) felt other bliss being in Ben’s arms as his lips caressed hers. He was tender yet passionate. The two had to pull away to regain oxygen and finally face the reality of the situation they put themselves in. As they pulled away from one another, Ben still kept his arms around (Name) while she had hers around his neck.

It had dawned on them that their kiss was so… real and intimate that their bodies were brought closer till they were intertwined. Ben began to smile and chuckled which confused (Name) and at the same time scared her into thinking Ben was playing for her fool but what he said next changed everything.

“I- I’m not going to lie and say that wasn’t the best I’ve had since ever…I-I don’t regret what I’ve done, (Name), I don’t,” he confessed to her seriously. She began to pipe in but Ben placed his finger on her lips to give him a moment to finish what he started. “Let me explain, please…” She nodded back and let him continue.

“I don’t regret kissing you, (Name). Not one bit. In fact, I’ve been dreaming since the moment I met you to kiss you… but not what we did back when we filmed Narnia… but out here… in real life… I’ve always held feelings for you, for so long. Too long, actually. I love the way smile, the way you laugh and cry at cat videos…”

That last bit made (Name) giggle for it was true. She both loved and nurtured felines. Ben smiled at her reaction and it gave him the boost of confidence to further his confession.

“…I love how spontaneous you are, how smart… and talented you are, it’s amazing what you’re really capable of, and I really admire that about you… I am in love with you, (Name) (Surname).” He finally said the last part he craved to tell her for years throughout their friendship yet it came out shakily as he feared her reaction to his confession.

But wait…was she…smiling at him and…were those tears?! Oh no! Did Ben screw up their friendship?!

“Ha ha… oh Ben… and here I thought I was the only fool in love with their best friend…” she cried happily to him. Ben let out a huge breath of relief. He smiled through his own tears back at her as he cupped her face to wipe off her tears that trailed down her cheeks. She was too beautiful to cry even though they were happy tears.

“I love you, Ben Barnes. Always have, haha. My god, it’s really happening! I love the way your eyes light up when you- when you’re happy, I love the way you laugh, I love you’re enviously but beautiful hair… God! For a man that uses one product for every part of his body, he still looks good!”

Ben began to laugh uncontrollably at her comment about his hair. (Name) would sometimes mention how it was unfair that men would only have to rely on one product to apply on all parts of the body and yet come out smoother than a baby’s bottom.

“…what it’s true! Anyway, where was I… ah yes, the hair. Love your hair, I also love your passion for music, in fact, I love how you sing Ben…”

Now, this caught him off guard. Ben had been open to her about his dream to one day release his own music but he didn’t think (Name) believed in him.

“You are so talented, so smart, so authentic, so… you’re amazing Ben. I wish you would see yourself the way I see you… And that’s why I love you,” she gave her confession.

Ben was left awestruck by her words and just like always she always left him speechless. “It took us a long time to tell this to each other…” he said to her breathlessly.

“Years of agony of loving in the dark and the fear of rejection… it’s over… I can finally show you my affections in the open, right?” she asked him.

Ben tucked in a stray strand of her luscious locks that smelled of lavender before looking deep into her eyes, “No more hiding. It’s all out in the open.”

“So what’s next?” She was now confused and felt no need to leave the warmth of his embrace, “What does this mean for us?” (Name) wanted to understand further about the change of their relationship and all the changes that would come with it.

“It means… that we become what we’ve always wanted… more than friends…”

“I like that but… what if things ever go south…”

“Not possible,” he said it in an earnest tone.

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because you’re all I’ve been looking for all along.” This made her smile and she leaned into his arms as they hugged like two long-lost lovers who finally found each other once again.

“Ha ha ha, Hah! I love you, Sirius Black,” she said to him playfully.

“You are never going to cease to let me live that down, are you?” he rolled his eyes at her.

“Nope!”

It wasn’t that long ago when Ben learned that Harry Potter fans imagined him or declared him to be the young Sirius Black of the Marauders fandom. Not only that, he was one time asked to take pictures with a Gryffindor tie.

“You can also be quite cheeky, huh. But that’s what I love about you… Sundance…” he said the last part with a smirk that caught her off guard.

“How did you-?!”

“How could I forget that My Little Pony manipulated you into becoming an equestrian… and you only get Sundance merch, ha ha ha.”

“Ahh!”

“What?! It’s adorable!”

Yup, those two were meant to be.

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Author's note:

Hi @marimorena06 I really want to say I'm so sorry you had to wait so long for your request to be fulfilled. I'm aware you gave your request last year (2021) on November. I thought I was confident in taking requests but was overwhelmed with the list of replies (I'm not mad). I'm disappointed in myself in being slow but I'm happy to finally be done with all the requests that were sent to me. Though I think you deserve all of my sincerest apologies for having to wait the longest. So I decided to put all of my mind and heart into this fic and spice it up with so much love, details, short stories, and some humor.

It took me long and hard but I managed. I've come to the realization I don't do well with deadlines so I'm taking a break from accepting requests until I'm a pro at this. All those fandom writers who deal and accept with a lot of tumblr fic requests have my deepest respect. I only had a few and I barely managed. I didn't want to disappoint, I had writer's block many times, I was busy at home, looking for jobs (it is so hard to find), I was so sick (I'm not saying I had the hardest time), and my laptop sucks (like really sucks... I've had it for nearly 10 years).

So my apologies to you and to everyone else that was anticipating this fic. I hope it meets your expectations and that it brings you joy. And again thank you for your request it was so sweet of you to ask me, a newbie, to bring your idea to life. You can request again once I'm available. Right now I'll be going through some changes and introducing new content. Thank you once again, I hope you had a good holiday and happy new year to you and everyone else. And thank you for the support.

Taglist:

@marimorena06 @itzzzzcookie @s0-theking @s1xthirty @sagejames @fromgreytoyellow @esther334 @airsummoner @memymfselfandi @gweaswift @supernaturallover2002 @veganismbymelaniecavill @eginv-blog @fakehappy27 @ivymiriiu @bruxa0007 @jessevans @maregomes @dxvanadeline @lorenshmidt @mandybug39 @lovesssss @enchantingeggslimepeanut @nana-licious @rheathesimp @darlingangel-17 @edithsvoice @lewisroscoelove @calimoi

[zetsubo-bani]

Is Yana losing interest in Black butler?

This is something I've been seeing for the last couple of years. A lot of people, especially after the most recent chapter (210), are saying that yana has lost interest in black butler and that it is apparently evident. While no one knows for certain if she has actually lost interest in it, I would like present some of my thoughts as to why I don't think she has lost interest in it.

First of all though, why are people saying that she has lost interest?

It has to do with a the slow pacing of the story which has been a complaint for a long time now. The chapters typically don't have more than 20 pages nowadays and the most recent one had only 11 (9 if you don't count the chapter cover). It's frustratingly slow and always ends with another little cliffhanger.

Naturally a lot of people are fed up and lose motivation to continue reading it monthly since it feels like we're barely advancing with the story and because of this slow pace, people are saying that yana doesn't have any motivation to continue it further.

Now the reason why I think the pacing is so slow is because of twisted wonderland, the game she is in charge of. She is responsible for the main concept, scenarios, character designs and also creates most of the art in the game herself. That's a lot of work she has to do, especially if you consider that she's also working on black butler.

The number of pages a chapter have started dropping since the blue memory arc. From what I've seen, a lot of the pages back then started to have only 20 pages and the drop to the 10-20 pages seemed to have become a thing around the start of the blue revenge arc. And since then the number of pages is different depending on what happens in the chapter. We already had a 9 pages chapter back in 167 so it's not that she goes increasingly lower with the pages number.

The blue revenge arc started in 2019 and considering that's also the year that the game twisted wonderland got announced, I think we all can think of why the pages number started to drop.

So to me it doesn't look like that she's intentionally keeping the pace slow because she lost motivation, it's because she already has a lot of work to do with twisted.

I've seen someone say: "but why doesn't she go into hiatus if it is so much work? Wouldn't it be better if she put black butler in hiatus to work on twisted and then later return to finish it properly?"

Well she could certainly do that but you have to consider that twisted wonderland is a gacha game. Gacha games require continuous content even long after the main story ended. Events that can draw in the players to continue playing and pull for the characters or cards they like.

So if she were to put black butler in hiatus to focus on twisted, it would be a very long hiatus, one that she would probably not get out of unless she handed her job to someone else.

Now onto the chapters itself. While the pace is indeed very slow, one thing that I've noticed is that she puts more effort into the chapters art. And I don't mean the characters, they of course look great.

I'm talking about the backgrounds.

Back then, a lot of the pages had blank backgrounds with a certain few having a little background. Of course there were also a lot of pages with very beautiful and detailed backgrounds but I'm talking about the smaller ones.

While the newer chapters still have a lot of blank backgrounds, they do feature more panels with a background than the old ones did

There several panels in the new chapters where I would have bet that the yana could have put a blank background but she didn't.

So while the pacing is still slow, the chapters have a lot more detail art wise in my opinion. That alone says to me that she didn't lose interest in black butler.

There's probably more that I could talk about that I will later notice but I don't want to make this post too long.

Please remember, this is just my opinion.

I'm not trying to excuse the slow pace of the chapters by the way, I'm just as frustrated as everyone else. I'm just providing some of my thoughts as to why I don't think yana has lost interest in black butler

[deadpoolsoci3ty]

so you're the a (alastor x reader) ch 1

(a/n: so i've been posting this on ao3 for about a week and just decided to post on here too now. also i do not have a posting schedule im busy lol sorry)

summary: finding the radio at that thrift store may have completely changed the course of my life, but really i'm not complaining at all.

word count: 1,789

warnings: none i think (let me know if should add some!)

ao3 link

masterlist

Chapter One: thing of beauty

The cold wind of Chicgo bit at my face as I walked the short walk from my apartment to the thrift store. I’m not totally sure what I was going there to look for, but I just needed to get out of my apartment. The walk was pleasant because I’m a college student home at one o’clock in the afternoon on a Tuesday, so the sidewalks are barren. The store finally comes into view, and then I’m walking in. I greet the woman at the register, and immediately book it towards the trinkets in the back. I look through their selection of shot glasses and mugs, not seeing anything that I just had to have. I pace around the back of the store until I see this gorgeous antique radio. A radio would be great for background noise when I’m reading, and plus this was a thing of beauty. I may not have a lot of money, but I knew in my heart whatever price this radio was, it was coming home with me. I rushed over to pick it up so I could find the price, but before my eyes could land on the price tag they first saw a small ‘A’ carved into wood in the corner. Maybe it was like an Andy Toy Story situation, a cute little memory from a previous owner. Then I found the price, a solid $60 which I am truly willing to part with for this beautiful radio.

With an extra pep in my step, I made my way to the register to pay for my lovely new friend. I greeted the employee at the register once again, and she looked somewhat excited that I put the radio on the conveyor belt. “Has this been here long?” I asked because I was confused how someone would pass up this piece of art.

“Longer than me, pretty sure,” she shrugged, “all the employees here have made up our little stories about the history behind it.” She rang me up and the screen prompted me to put my card in, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to get a sweet treat for a week or two but the radio was worth it. “It has been bought before though,” I furrowed my brow because what was wrong with this damn clock? But, to be honest I didn’t care if the radio even worked or not (I was hoping it did though) it was just beautiful. “The people always come back in basically begging us to buy it back, don’t even care for how much. One guy sold it to us for fifty cents one time.”

Now, normally I would not be caught dead with an object that people had been begging to return, and with the way the employee had been describing the situation the radio was definitely scaring the shit out of everybody that purchased it. But, for some reason I needed this radio. A little about me, I’m a textbook snobby english major. I love all things vintage, I think the classics are the greatest works in English literature, and hold a deep detestment for many aspects of modern culture. Yes, I am annoying.

“Mmm, something tells me I’ll be keeping it for the long haul.” I don’t know what possessed me to say something like this, but I’m just gonna go with it. I thank the employee and make my way out of the shop.

The walk home was much less brisk now that I was carrying this heavy radio, but I didn’t think about it much. I was just so excited. My roommate was out filming for some school project so I could fiddle with it when I got home.

After what feels like forever, I see the fence in front of my apartment. I whip out my keys, and put them in the lock of the first door and lock it behind me, while putting the key into the next door which leads to my apartment. I take off my shoes and lock the door. I walk over to the dining room table and put my purse down along with the radio so I can take my coat off. Once coatless, I grab the radio and set it down on the coffee table in front of the couch. I mess with the knobs and dials until I hear a crackle. “Yes!” I yelled, as I began switching through the stations, most of the stations I knew from the radio in my car were entirely static. After a couple of minutes I heard someone speaking, the voice was filtered through what sounded like a microphone from the early days of audio.

“Hello dearie!~” the strange voice spoke, I assumed it was a prerecorded file a station was playing. Like a radio version of the history channel. So, of course I didn’t speak back to the radio. Then, the voice came back, “I said…” a loud static started to emanate from the speaker, “Hello!”

My first thought was ‘fuck me, if this is a demon in here, I’m definitely going to fall for one of his traps’ I had just though about this a couple days ago, I want things! Sue me! And I’m not fucking with you two days ago I had been thinking about this shit and now here I am. Welp, I’m fucked, but still I carry on. And now I was sure I had completely lost my mind, so since that had already happened and I was obviously in the middle of an episode of psychosis, I decided to reply, “Oh! Umm I didn’t think you were speaking to me. My apologies!” Whoever this person who was speaking was, I definitely did NOT want him to be upset with me.

“Oh dear, oh dear! Far in the past now! You’ve got my radio!” I could tell whoever was speaking was smiling, I could hear in their voice.

“This is yours? It’s gorgeous, I can assume you’re the ‘A’ on the bottom of it.” I could have asked so many questions, but I went with this one. I’m not totally sure why, but I really want to know more about the strange voice.

“Alastor! That’s my name, sweetheart!” He seemed excited to introduce himself, and honestly I was just as excited as him.

“Hello Alastor! My name is Y/N! It’s nice to meet you! Where do you live, Alastor? I found the radio in Chicago!” Why was I telling this strange voice over a creepy radio where I live.

“Oh when I was alive, my home was New Orleans. Absolutely fantastic! It made it all the way to the Windy City!” My heart froze after his fifth word, hair standing up, goose pimples all over my skin, and a shock through my spine. When he was alive??? What the fuck does that mean? He’s definitely a demon, yep fuck me.

“Just to clarify, you did just say ‘when you were alive’ right? That wasn’t me hearing things, right?” I was hyperventilating out of my damn mind. I absolutely understood now why people had returned this freaky fucking radio

“Oh yes, of course, dear! I’m coming to you straight from Hell.” The way he said it like it was the most casual thing ever, had me feeling like I was overreacting to what he was saying.

“And you’re not messing with me?” After it came out of my mouth I heard him clench his teeth.

“Oh, now what is your impression of me that says I would do that to you?” He seems frustrated with my question, and that did not sit right with me. I was quick to appease him.

“No, no, no, I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant by that, I promise!” I try to stop myself from spilling my guts to this man who I believe might be a demon, because the voice in my head was telling me giving personal information to a demon was probably not the best decision I could make, but I just couldn’t stop myself. “It’s just I never believed in an afterlife or a religion, so it’s just that you have just told me that hell is real and that is absolutely insane to me because now I’m terrified hell is horrible. Is it horrible? I mean I guess that’s the point?” I took a deep breath before I continued my word vomiting, but before I got the chance, Alastor began speaking again.

“Sweet girl~ please stop with the yammering…” His voice seemed like nectar to me, I could listen to him speak all day, “before we continue with our little back and forth, I am going to need to know what I’m getting out of this?” I immediately started thinking about the things I could offer him, not my soul. Wasn’t there just yet.

“What could you possibly want from me?” This was the most genuine question I had asked in a long time, I had absolutely nothing to offer him. I had money for groceries, rent, and utilities. Most of my possessions were books, he was in hell what use could he have for anything I could give him.

“I just adore your voice, little deer!” He was back to being his chirpy self, and it rubbed off on me making me feel a little calmer. “I’m sure you would love to continue our little chats, and in return I’d just like for you to read to me, from a book of your choosing of course.” I was trying not to let off how excited I was, I wanted him to feel like he was getting more out of this than he was. “I’m trusting you have immaculate taste, but give a couple of your favorites just so I can tell.”

After a few quick beats I respond with, “My favorite book of all time is Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte, I’m a big fan of the classics, nineteenth century literature.”

“Oh how swell!” he seemed like he was buzzing with glee, “A beautiful voice with even better taste!” He seemed to chuckle to himself and as his laugh faded out his voice came back, “Well, dearest, I’m afraid I must be going for now! I’ll excuse your payment for today, but be ready for next time, my dear,” I took a deep breath at the thought of a next time, “When you want to contact me again, just tune back into this station, I’ll be able to tell. I won’t always be able to talk, but when I can I’ll be there in a jiffy!”

Before I could respond to him the static that accompanied his voice faded and it eventually became silent in my apartment once again. I released the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, and leaned back into my couch.

(a/n: i've written five chapters so far i'll be posting the other four asap)

[ctitan98official]

Anonymous: Hey Pookie ✨💕 I was wondering if I could put in a request of the RE8 ladies reaction to Top!reader whose usually pretty quiet and collected, saying “those cute noises you’re making, is driving me crazy” while using the strap 😳 and just looking/acting feral af. Much loves💋

Hell yeah! Let’s get into it!

Alcina:

Now, I hc Alcina as being a power bottom, but… I also think she would enjoy subbing every now and then.

When you use the strap on her, she is so overwhelmed by the pleasure. It’s all she can do to keep her eyes from rolling back into her head.

When you get super into it, your whole attitude and mannerisms change.

Alcina loves when you take charge. It’s a nice change of pace.

You are very demanding and make sure Alcina does what she’s told under no uncertain terms.

When you get like this, Alcina just finds you so attractive. She’ll be your sub anytime, just don’t tell anyone or you’re dead.

Donna:

Okay, Donna would be in heaven if you use the strap and get kind of feral.

She is her happiest when you praise her and getting to hear you do it while you’re so far gone? That’s her dream.

Tying her down is also a huge turn on. She loves how completely you dominate her.

Donna lets out the cutest whines while you rut into her and you can’t help but to comment on them sometimes.

“Listen to all those pretty sounds you make. All for me, babe?” You tease and start thrusting harder.

Donna frantically nods her head and bites her lip in ecstasy.

Donna is always so satisfied when you take her this way.

You feel pretty great afterward too.

Miranda:

When you first begin to show some real feral energy in the bedroom, Miranda gets quite excited.

She knows how much you’re enjoying yourself and it makes her feel good.

She encourages you and now you feel so honored that Miranda lets you order her around.

Watching Miranda’s face as she orgasms is like admiring art. Her beautiful features finally relax into pure pleasure. It’s amazing.

You were a bit embarrassed after you came down off of your high the first time you took charge, but Miranda captured your face in her hands and told you how much she loved it. You were stunned.

Now, even though Miranda still very much loves topping from the bottom, she is all too happy to let you take the reins for a while.

Bela:

Bela just wants a top who tells her what to do. Simple as that.

Also, compliments do wonders on her. She has a huge praise kink in my opinion.

One of Bela’s favorite ways to have sex is with you using the strap. It just feels so good to her.

She lives to hear all of the dirty things you say. To her, that’s one of the hottest parts.

When you cup her face and tell her that you like the soft whines she makes… She comes almost instantaneously.

Bela will do whatever you want her to do. It makes her feel so useful to be of service.

She was a blushing mess the entire next day after you two made love for the first time. You made all of her dreams come true and it’s one of her most precious memories.

Cassandra:

While Cass had to come around to the idea of you being in charge… She loves it.

Being taken by you with the strap feels so naughty to her and she loves it.

She has never relinquished so much control to a partner before, but you have opened up so many possibilities to her.

Cass expresses herself through sex, and this is one of the biggest ways she can show you that she trusts you.

When you praise the cute little noises that she makes… She has never come so hard or fast. She didn’t think she was really into that before, but something about the way you reassure her makes her feel safe and loved.

Sometimes you have to tie Cass down so she doesn’t rip you to shreds by accident in her lust-fueled state. Honestly, that just turns her on more.

Daniela:

Dani loves when you praise basically anything she does, but hearing you do it while you’re so feral does something to her.

She is so willing to try anything new with you, sometimes it works sometimes not, but you topping and using the strap? Her new favorite thing.

She loves when you get so carried away that you start speaking without even thinking. Some of the dirty stuff you come up with loops in her brain on repeat for the next few days after a good sex session.

Dani knows that she’s done a good job when you start getting lost in your pleasure. It makes her feel good.

Dani loves to cuddle with you afterward and listen to you whisper about how well she did during the deed. While she loves the feral version of you, she also loves the compassionate and soft side of you.

Masterlist

[tanith-rhea]

From Newark to Burlington

"You are that motherfucker who spilt coffee all over me and almost made me miss my plane in the cafeteria and now we’re stuck beside each other for this 4-hour flight; wait a second, did you just fall asleep on my shoulder? Oh god you look cute while sleeping"

Word count: 2.3k

Your day was only beginning but already could not get worse. You needed to get the 10 a.m. plane from Newark to South Burlington in twenty minutes, and the barista was infuriatingly slow.

The queue was moving at a sloth's pace, and when it finally got to you, you could only control yourself not to run from the cafeteria to the gates in a panic. But you had some semblance of self-respect and settled for a quick walk; not everyone was you, though.

When you were just getting to the glass doors, someone from your left, too preoccupied with texting on their phone, crashed right into you, spilling your drink all over the nice suit jacket you bought for your first day at your new job. Great! Perfect! Now you had a ruined jacket, no other clothes to change into for the flight and worst of all: no coffee.

"Watch it, damn it!" you yelled at the person rapidly shooting apologies to you from over your head.

Over your head? What? You stopped to look the person in the face, and could not help but hold your breath for two to three seconds. Standing tall beside you was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen, and you'd seen some very fine women in your college days. Art school had all types of exquisite people, from models to actresses and tormented poets who always managed to surprise you in bed.

No, the silvery blond with reddened lips and badass sunglasses was the most gorgeous woman you'd ever laid eyes on.

You didn't know what to say for a bit, watching the regret and kindness wash away from the woman's face and be replaced by an arched brow and an unimpressed sneer.

"I am tremendously sorry," she definitely wasn't, "I should have looked" her tone was icy, and her posture was erect, although her smile was sickenly sweet.

You cursed yourself for your temper and tried to remedy your behaviour by sweetly reassuring her that it was all fine, but all you received in return was a side grin and scrunched nose that didn't convey the normal cuteness you'd think but utter distaste before she walked away in those mile-long legs and disappeared in the crowd.

Only you to fuck up so well what could have been a nice airport chat and, with any luck, exchange of numbers (you were smooth enough, it wasn't difficult to pick up women most times). Sighing, you went to your gate to get on the plane and finally be done with it all. Four hours of flight and you'd be starting your brand new life at Nevermore Academy. All the stress would be worth it.

It wasn't forty minutes later when the last passengers were boarding the plane and you saw her again. That goddess of a woman, walking down the corridor looking at the numbers on the seats. She had a scarf around her hair now and gracious gloved hands you hadn't noticed before. She didn't see you at first but stopping by the seat beside you, she looked up and saw you and the notebooks on your lap. You could guess your face was paler than the white sheets of paper all around.

She breathed deeply, and you briefly wondered if she would start a fight with you right now, in the middle of the plane, to get rid of the earlier stress you caused her. Wait, what? She bumped into you! You were the one with the right to be annoyed!

But she didn't do anything. She didn't even say anything or acknowledge your presence before sitting in the comfortable recliner beside you and picking up a novel from her rather tasteful tote bag (how could a motherf*cking tote bag be tasteful?? What the hell?). She proceeded to read for the next couple of hours, giving you the cold shoulder you were starting to think you didn't deserve all that much. Ok, you snapped at her once, but you apologised, right? Oh, no, you didn't. Well fuck.

You also didn't want to interrupt her and elicit more of her wrath, so you just resigned to admiring her from the corner of your eyes every few minutes. Damn, she was fine.

At eleven thirty, the plane made a one-hour stop at Washington, D.C., and some passengers were starting to get up to walk around or buy some snacks at the airport. You decided to have a stroll and left the tall, mysterious drama queen with her book. She could brood all she liked; you needed that coffee and some fresh air if you were to spend two more hours controlling yourself from trying to pass her a pickup line or not drool over the elegant movement of her fingers turning pages.

She did soft sounds while reading. You noticed it half an hour into the flight. While you were writing some notes and adjusting your schedule for the upcoming week, she would lightly chuckle or release a small huff as if frustrated with the character's choice in the story. It was mesmerising, utterly adorable, and you had to refrain from telling her to shut up if she didn't want to be kissed.

This airplane crush was getting out of hand, and while waiting for your coffee to get ready you decided to act.

Back in the blue-carpeted corridor, you strode confidently to your seat and weren't surprised to find the lovely woman still there. She wasn't reading this time but apparently writing on her phone. You could not abstain from feeling a bit frustrated by it being the entire reason that breathtaking piece of paradise was annoyed at you.

"Hey" you started, very charmingly of course, "I thought you'd be hungry by now, I haven't seen you eat since we left Newark and brought you these almond butter and banana roll-ups" you give her a smile you truly hoped was one of your cute ones that every girl at bars said made you look adorably sweet and naive.

She looked up at you and, for the first time, you saw her eyes without sunglasses. Of course she would have beautiful deep pools of blue in which you'd happily drown on. She looked questioningly at the treat neatly wrapped in a fancy cardboard box with leaves and flowers printed on it and back at you. Did you really sound that much of an asshole for her to be so suspicious?

"I didn't know if you were a vegetarian or vegan or whatever, so a went vegan to be safe" you shrugged lamely, trying to seem casual and not at all the weirdo that yelled at someone and was now pathetically trying to pave a road back to civility with them... and maybe a bit more than just civility.

"Thank you," she said uncertainly, taking the tiny package from your hand and sweet Jesus a glove could not make you shiver like that, it was against the law, "You didn't have to" she seemed a bit speechless, and you counted that as better than outright telling you to piss off.

"But I wanted to" you smiled charmingly at her and went to your seat. Some color was beginning to paint her cheeks and you couldn't help the smugness you felt by eliciting a response like that from her. She was not an ice wall after all.

"I wanted to apologise for how I acted earlier" you started again while she untied the lace around the cute box, a sweet banana scent coming from it when opened "I shouldn't have snapped at you, I was just a bit on edge to get to the plane" you chuckled.

"And yet I made it to the plane too, being polite and all" ooookay she was a bit of a bastard then. You liked the sass.

"Yes, indeed you made it" you laughed at that, beginning to feel that bubbly excitement of flirting in your sternum "To my delight".

She laughed with the food in her mouth, bringing her hand to cover it while she tried to control herself and finish eating.

"What do mean, delight? I've acted like a stubborn brooding child for the past two hours" she was laughing a throaty deep laugh now and you couldn't get enough of it. God, this woman would be the end of you.

"Yes, but I enjoyed watching you read. Very regal and imposing" she smiled at that, turning a bit redder but relaxing, her shoulders dropping a bit with a breath.

"So when you aren't being an irritable prat you're a charmer?" she arched a brow at you and you felt it like a blow to the stomach. That girl had some serious balls.

The flight improved 200% after that, with you asking her about the novel she was reading (Emma) and her taking an interest in your general class notes on classical portrayals of discriminated races throughout history. Turns out she supported normie-outcast-relations and thought it was an important issue to address in the modern era (which yes, finally someone agrees with you — it was so goddamn hard to find other normies that weren't scared shitless of people with superpowers) and you had very similar ideas on it.

Larissa, you learned, was not cold and unfriendly at all. She was a sweet bundle of nerves in a position of power at some institution that seemed unable to work without sending her e-mails every half hour. It was actually what she was doing when you bumped at the cafeteria, and you felt like the biggest dumbass on earth when she told you.

Around one you had fallen into a comfortable silence; her arm pressed against yours between the seats. You were slowly pilling up the courage to maybe graze her fingers and see if she would hold your hand when a weight fell on your shoulder and Larissa was sleeping against you.

You were ready to die then and there. Y/n, the happiest puppy alive on planet Earth. She was breathing softly against your neck and her throat was close to your shoulder. Although you really didn't mind the warmth from her small outtakes of breath, that could not be comfortable at all, so you tried to gently settle her until she seemed satisfied enough. If the light moan she made when her nose met your neck was anything to go by, you were sure she was fine. And for the seven hells, you weren't. How did she dare moan so close to your ear? Against your goddamned skin? If you could melt from overheating you would be a puddle at her feet.

The thing was, she wasn't just sinfully gorgeous, she was also heartbreakingly soft and comforting and sweet and everything good that ever existed. You could tell that underneath the mascara her eyelashes were pale and the little tip of her upturned nose was the cutest thing to ever be made in the entire history of the human race. You could spend an eleven-hour flight easily just cataloguing every inch of her face and fantasizing about getting the chance to kiss those lipstick-red lips, wondering if it would smudge and show everyone who saw you what you were doing. You had a feeling it would smudge, and if it didn't you'd have to put extra effort into showing people she was yours.

Jesus, that was a bit too much, wasn't it? But with her cheek pressed against your shoulder, you couldn't help but feel it wasn't. Truthfully it wasn't even near enough.

The airplane landed shortly after, and you dreaded having to wake her up and lose the warm pressure. You didn't have to, tough. The movement caused by the landing woke Larissa, who breathed deeply into your skin and rapidly sat up, suddenly tense.

She was turning a very becoming shade of red, and you had to bite your lip to keep from smiling too much.

"Good morning, princess" you teased.

"Oh, shut up!" she hid her face in her hands "I can't believe I slept on you, oh my god"

"Don't act so mortified. You are much nicer when sleeping, I enjoyed myself immensely" you laughed at her murderous face and you both started getting ready to exit.

You didn't want to lose her at the airport, but after getting your luggage it was quite easy to spot her. You thanked god for your taste in women and approached the tall goddess.

"Hey, I know this might be a little too soon, but would you like to go out for coffee sometime?" you tried the casual excuse to have her phone number, and she laughed. She laughed! The guts!

"I think coffee should be avoided near me" she winked, and you were going to die "But I'd love to meet again, maybe we could have hot chocolate at this cosy cafe in the city I'm near, Jericho."

Your brows went up, was this destiny?

"Actually, I'll be living there for a while til I get settled on my new job, so that would be perfect!"

"Really?" she seemed excited, but a small crease formed between her eyebrows and she looked you up and down before snapping out of whatever thought she was having and picking up her phone to save your number.

You didn't receive any messages, and that was expected just over two hours after you parted. You were about to meet with the headmistress of the Nevermore Academy for your new position as the new history teacher and not having your nice suit jacket was making you nervous. Of course everything would be fine, but you wanted to make a good impression nonetheless.

When the door opened, a redheaded woman led you inside the most extravagant and tasteful office you'd ever seen. But behind the desk wasn't your new boss... seated in a fitted pistachio-coloured dress was Larissa. The beautiful stranger who spent half a flight cosily sleeping on your shoulder just hours ago.

"Y/n y/ln?" Larissa asked politely as if nothing was the bother.

"Principal Weems, I presume" you were so screwed.

"What a delight to see you again so soon" she smiled devilishly.

You were in shock, every inch of your body overjoyed and strangely aroused when a voice knocked you off your half trance.

"Wait, you two know each other?"

Part two can be found here.

[seafoamreadings]

week of november 5th, 2023

these are written predominantly for the *rising* signs but they are also intuitively "channeled" enough that they should work for any dominant energy you have! (try your sun if you don't know rising, or more advanced readers can try moon, anywhere you have a stellium, etc and see what works best for you!)

aries: long distance travel leading to love or some other form of long distance relationship become probable at this time. if that's not you, you probably have at least beautiful relationship developments happening alongside some major philosophical/academic strides.

taurus: this week, especially early on, is magically venusian, and i'm not saying "magically" lightly. it's powerful old love magic. and if you're a practitioner, it's a great time to direct that energy with your own will.

gemini: if the setting has seemed like being stuck in swampy quicksand lately, the increase in air and fire energy help you to pull yourself out of it and get back to flitting around like the mischievous little pixies we all know geminis can be! have a great time. be respectful of the heavier energies that still remain though, nothing too crazy okay?

cancerians: the watery scorpio new moon is very much your wheelhouse and can herald new romance. if you're looking, set intentions around that. if you are not, focus instead on arts, pleasures, and fun. while it technically occurs at the very beginning of next week, you will feel it from the end of this week, and can start planning now!

leo: leos who've been struggling recently suddenly find their voice again, find a muse, find a spark of joy a somber world. fan the flame and nourish it. warmth like that comes and goes, but make the most of it while it's here.

virgo: this week sees venus leave your sign for libra. while it's always a little sad to see her move on from blessing your first house, maybe you can appreciate how well she'll now attract money and good resources to you. live your authentic truth, stick to your values, and reap the rewards.

libra: in spite of the fact that it actually is scorpio season (which by the way is great for you financially) there's a distinctly libran tone to this week due to the presence of both venus and the moon. stay serene, even if you have to fake it a little.

scorpio: your sign and your ruling planet are always about power. this week in particular you are at your best, your strongest. "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger" is a dangerous phrase at times and often wrong but at the moment, it's most likely to be true for you. soak up those vibes and do what you need to do! pluto is strongly on your side, and mars supports, along with a lot of good watery vibes in the background.

sagittarius: in such a stolid and steady time, the ingress of mercury into your sign comes as a welcome change of pace. speak only truths. others can't help but to do so as well, even if the tells are nonverbal. be on the lookout if you have any suspicions or questions, mercury here for the next few weeks tells you what you need to know.

capricorn: we're now seeing the last of pluto in your sign for our entire lifetimes and then some. this week's aspects to venus and mercury are pleasant, for such a chthonic archetype. you speak powerfully and magnetically. your aura is enchanting. use it for good and not evil, in order to bring you a better pluto in aquarius period later on.

aquarius: two ingresses occur this week to make you feel a little more awake and alive if you've been feeling stifled, stuck, or slowed down. socializing is extremely auspicious from this week onward, especially with people and ideas that are completely brand new to you. if you've been wanting to immerse yourself in some new social culture, the time is now and especially by the weekend.

pisces: you're always a deep personality but from this week's venus into libra ingress, you will be especially so. small talk is hard to abide, trivialities of life enrage you, you become (even more of?) a ride or die. that's okay, the intimacy and loyalty are beautiful, as long as you are looking out for your physical, emotional, and spiritual safety in the process.

[maddiwrites]

The Daughter

Summary: Enemies to lovers, Weasley x Lestrange. Linked is a more descriptive summary with author's notes (:

Warnings: None

Chapter One: Kyrie Lestrange walked into Hogwarts’s Great Hall with murder on her mind. 

She knew that this year was going to be different than her last four years at this school. But not a good different. No, this was going to be much, much worse. 

 The Dementors stalking their train ride to Hogwarts proved that almost instantly.

Her shoulder bag was heavy with the weight of the Daily Prophet. Of course the weight of the newspaper wasn’t physically holding her down, but the longer she thought about what was written for the whole wizarding world to see, it felt like an elephant was sitting on her shoulders.

 On the front page was Sirius Black, known Death Eater, and now a dangerous escaped prisoner from Azkaban as of a couple weeks ago. Oh, and he also happened to be her uncle. 

“Oi, what’s got your panties in a twist, Lestrange?” Cedrella “Ell” Copplestone, Kryie’s best friend, hip bumped her with a smile on her face. Cedrella was beautiful. Her bleach blonde hair fell in easy waves past her chest. Her brown eyes were striking against her fair skin and her lips were always gorgeously polished with sparking pink lip gloss. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a couple of Dementors.”

Cedrella and Kyrie met on their first day at Hogwarts when they were both sorted into Slytherin. Back then, they were only a shell of what they were now. Timid, nervous, but excited. Now, those little girls were strangers.

Kyrie snorted. “Of course not. But I’m also not stupid enough to tempt one of them with a good time, if you know what I mean.”

“A good time, huh?” Cedrella wiggled her eyebrows. 

“Have you ever heard of the Dementor’s Kiss?” Kyrie asked her in all seriousness. 

“No, we didn’t all grow up learning the ins and outs of Azkaban, you know,” Her best friend smirked. 

Cedrella meant it as a joke, and she said it with pride. However, the indirect mention of Kyrie’s mother hollowed her chest into a bottomless pit, but after fifteen years, Kyrie mastered the art of faking a smile and keeping her head high with feigned confidence. 

“Well, it’s the only kiss, even you, would never ask for, Ell,” Kyrie said. 

“What are you trying to call me?” Cedrella scoffed jokingly.

Kyrie smirked but continued. “Its soul sucking. Literally. Worse than death. And it doesn’t take much to convince them to suck it right out of you.”

“Suck what out of who?” Steven Friar, another fellow Slytherin in her year, conveniently popped his head between the two girls, smirking. 

Kyrie rolled her eyes. “Of course that is all you heard.”

Kyrie also met Steven Friar in her first year of Hogwarts when the Sorting Hat placed them all in Slytherin. Joining them at their table that day was also Ophelia Wenlock, Danny King, Selina Branstone, and Zakir Ancrum. Quickly, this was how her friend group transformed. A group of prideful, parent pleasing, pureblooded, wizards and witches. All part of the house that homed the only students who believed being the daughter of Bellatrix Lestrange was a privilege, even if the witch stroked a deep fear within all of them.  

“What can I say, Lestrange, your words put me in a trance,” Steven smiled. 

His curly brown hair brushed against Kyrie’s cheek and his breath smelled of chocolate frogs from the train. Out of all her friends, Steven was the one to make her laugh the hardest. Unlike most Slytherins, he didn’t take life too seriously. Although he always remembered to keep in mind the expectations his parents had for him, he didn’t let it control him. And Kyrie always envied that about him. 

“Oi, get a grip, Friar,” Danny and Zakir matched their pace with the others. “You know, the only thing joining you in your bed this year is your right hand.”

“Jokes on you, I’m a lefty,” Steven winked at his friend.

“What are you talking about, anyway?” Danny asked them.

Out of all of her guy friends, Kyrie was closest to Danny. The bond they shared was different than the ones she had with Steven and Zakir. This one was more serious and intimate. They shared a connection that she couldn’t relate to with any of her other friends. Maybe it was the fact that his parents were similar to Kyrie’s aunt and uncle, who she had been living with for the past thirteen years. They were highly regarded amongst all wizards in Europe. They shared powerful roles in the Ministry, which always added pressure to the ideology of showing off a picture perfect family. There were certain expectations that Danny and Kyrie were meant to meet, and Danny took that role seriously. 

“The Dementors,” Ell said.

The five of them found Selina and Ophelia waiting for them in the Great Hall, saving their friends their seats with the other fifth year students. Kyrie took her seat next to Ophelia and eyed the rest of the room. 

On the other end of the room, Hufflepuffs pushed each other around playfully.  Next to their table, Ravenclaws were catching up quietly, and behind the Slytherin tables, Gryffindors obnoxiously cackled.

“I heard that Potter kid fainted on the train when he looked at one of them,” Ophelia said with a slight snicker, catching the last of their conversation as they settled in. 

Kyrie glanced over at the Gryffindor table again. Ironically, Harry Potter was turned towards them as well, glaring at Draco Malfoy, who was no doubt teasing the kid about what happened. 

News traveled fast in Hogwarts. Rumor had it one of the Dementors locked onto Potter during the train ride into campus, and the interaction was severe enough to make Harry Potter pass out.

Steven pulled another chocolate frog out of his shoulder bag. Kyrie snatched it out of his hand.

“Hey!” He complained. 

Kyrie threw the chocolate frog at the blonde third year. It hit him in the side of the head, causing him to turn around and glare daggers at his own cousin.

“Leave him alone, Draco,” Kyrie scolded him with a smirk on her face. She glanced over at the younger kid who was scowling at her cousin. His brown hair was sticking up in the back, his glasses askew, and the scar on his forehead peeked out from behind his bangs. “At least wait until the kid looks a little less… peaky.” 

Kyrie winked at the young Gryffindor, remembering their encounter only a couple of weeks ago in Knockturn Alley. Harry flushed and was physically turned away from the Slytherin table by two red headed twins. 

The infamous Fred and George Weasley. They’ve been causing chaos at Hogwarts since they stepped onto campus five years ago. They were adrenaline junkies. The twins were well known for their pranks, always finding a way to improve their jokes and up the stakes. Whereas most of the school loved and laughed at their antics, Kyrie found the two utterly annoying and obnoxious. However, the twins’ perspective of Lestrange and her friends weren’t far off from that either. 

Maybe it was the natural feud between their two houses, or maybe it was that they just knew how to get under each other’s skin. But the Weasleys and their friends have hated Lestrange and her friends for as long as she’s known them. 

The twins narrowed their eyes at Kyrie but were smart enough to keep their mouth shut.

Kyrie smirked at their reaction to her already so early into the school year. She ignored the curious eyes of their little brother, Ron, and his best friend Hermione and turned back to her friends. 

Ell scoffed, noticing the twins’ looks as well. “I’ll tell you one thing I didn’t miss. The stupid dungbombs those idiots like to shoot off in the halls.”

“One stupid prank this year and I will make their lives bloody miserable. I don’t have time to be distracted from studying for the O.W.Ls,” Selina said. She was by far the smartest out of all Kyrie’s friends. Obsessed with her schoolwork, she was on the right path to follow in her parents’ footsteps to work for the Ministry of Magic.

“It’s day one and she’s already talking about the exams,” Zakir rolled his eyes. 

Kyrie snickered and ignored her friend’s scowl. 

“Hey,” Danny leaned in closer to Kyrie. “I like the green. It matches your eyes.”

Kyrie smiled. “I might have to dye it back to pink then. Don’t want you to get distracted from your studies this year.”

Every few weeks, Kyrie dyed streaks of her brunette hair a different color. For majority of the summer, it was a pastel pink. And Danny knew this because he spent the summer pining over Kyrie Lestrange like she was the last woman on Earth. And Kyrie let him, finding no harm in a little summer fling, even if it was with one of her closest friends. But now that the school year had begun, Kyrie had no intentions of continuing said fling. And she made that very clear to him last month. However, it was clearly going to be harder than she thought for Danny. 

“With you in the room, I’ll always be distracted.”

Ell pretended to gag. “Oh please, get a room you two.”

“Happily. Maybe we’ll use yours,” Danny smirked back at her.

“I’m about to lose my appetite and I’ve been looking forward to this food for three months.”

The Great Hall silenced as Professor Dumbledore stood up from his spot at the front table with the other professors of the school. Kyrie eyed each and every one of them, pausing on the face of a man she didn’t recognize. 

The Headmaster took his place at the podium. “Welcome! Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say, before we become befuddled by our excellent feast. I myself am particularly looking forward to the flaming kiwi cups, which, while somewhat treacherous for those of us with facial hair...” He chuckled at his own joke. “Mm. Yes. First, I'm pleased to welcome Professor R.J. Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Good luck to you, Professor.” The students applauded the new professor. At least he looked a little more…humble than last year’s DADA professor. He waved politely at the students. His sandy hair, matching the color of his facial hair surrounding his mouth, fell lazily on his forehead. He looked to be in his forties. He was dressed in a casual suit that would give the illusion that he had his life put together, but Kyrie could tell there was something…off…about him. “As some of you may know, Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher for many years, has decided to retire in order to spend more time with his remaining limbs. Fortunately, I'm delighted to announce that his place will be filled by none other than our own Rubeus Hagrid!” Hagrid awkwardly stood up, his big body shaking the table in front of him. To this, Kyrie happily applauded the Giant. Unlike most students in her house, Kyrie really liked Hagrid. 

When Hagrid sat down, the atmosphere changed in the Great Hall. Dumbledore didn’t look as pleased as what he was about to say next was of grave importance. “Finally, on a more disquieting note, Hogwarts - at the request of the Ministry of Magic - will, until further notice, play host to the Dementors of Azkaban.” A few murmurs vibrated around her, but what caught her eye was Draco and his two idiot friends Crabbe and Goyle teasing Harry by pretending to faint. “The Dementors will be stationed at the entrances to the grounds. While they are under strict orders not to enter the castle itself, you will on occasion see them as you go about your daily activities. Under no circumstances are you to approach them. It is not in the nature of a Dementor to be forgiving.”

After dinner, with a belly full of roast chicken, pumpkin juice, and cauldron cakes, Kyrie unpacked her luggage quietly while listening to her friends discuss their summers. 

Selina spent a lot of her time in the Ministry, shadowing her father and getting a head start in making sure her name was well known amongst her father’s peers, so that when it comes time to apply in three years, she’ll be an easy hire. 

Kyrie always admired her friend’s dedication to her education, but sometimes that dedication distracted her from what was also important at Hogwarts – fun. She, Ophelia, and Ell always had to convince her to come to parties hosted in the Slytherin Common Room, talk to the girls she had admitted to holding small crushes on, and close the books early to gossip late into the night.

Ophelia spent most of her summer visiting her cousin in Berlin, spending most of her money at the local shops over there. She had a bit of a spending problem, that one. 

And Cedrella went into intricate detail of her night with a muggle she met at her family’s vacation house in Sussex. 

Kyrie covered her copy of the Daily Prophet under her school sweaters in the bottom drawer of her dresser. She didn’t want to talk about Sirius with anyone. Not even her best friends, and she hoped they wouldn’t bring him up either. 

 Her friend’s teasing voice cooed her name behind her.

“What about you, Kyrie? Have anything you’d like to share about your summer?” Ophelia smirked knowingly. She braided her golden locks back behind her head. Not a single blemish dotted her face after she removed her makeup and was freshly moisturized. Her fingers were always dazzled with rings that fascinated Kyrie. Last year, Ophelia gifted a thick gold and green ring to Kyrie for her birthday. She wore it every day on her right middle finger.

“Yeah, anything about how your green hair matches your green eyes,” Selina giggled. 

Selina’s shoulder length brown hair fell over her face as she leaned over the pillow set on her lap. Her brown skin glowed under the overhead light. Her teeth were beautifully straight and her jaw line exceptionally sharp. Kyrie always wondered why Selina chose to be single. She knew a couple of girls at Hogwarts who were secretly harboring crushes for her friend. 

Kyrie rolled her eyes. “I think you can infer what my summer was like.”

It was no secret that Danny always fancied Kyrie since their first year at Hogwarts. He always took the open seat next to her in the Great Hall, offered to be her partner in Charms and Potions when they shared the class, and was always glued to her side at social events. 

Kyrie tried convincing herself that she felt the same way towards Danny. He was the perfect match in the long run. With their highly respected families, blood purity, and money, every wizard expected them to be married following graduation. 

“Oh come on. Give us details!” Ophelia pushed. 

“Not everyone’s an open book like our dear Ell,” Kyrie said sarcastically.

“Did you at least shag? Or did you torture him with just a kiss?” Selina asked.

Kyrie rolled her eyes again and turned her back to her friends to hide her blushing cheeks as she climbed into bed. 

“Oh, she definitely had sex!” Ophelia said.

“Well, tell us about it!” Selina exclaimed. 

Kyrie glanced at her best friend but she couldn’t read her expression. Ell got uncharacteristically quiet, looking both intrigued and annoyed at the same time. 

Suddenly, Kyrie felt a little guilty that she didn’t tell her best friend first. They told each other everything first before sharing with Ophelia and Selina. But this wasn’t something she wanted to share through a letter. 

Kyrie shrugged. “It was fine.”

“Just fine?” Ophelia asked. 

Cedrella raised a brow. 

“I don’t know…it was…well the first couple of times were awkward –“

“You did it more than once?” Selina asked. 

“Do you want to hear the story or not?” Kyrie said. 

Selina raised her hands in surrender and silently urged her to go on. 

Kyrie was honest with them. She told them that the first couple of times with Danny were a little awkward. With niether of them having done it before, they were feeling a bit shy. But towards the end of the summer, they found their groove and it got better. Kyrie couldn’t deny that there was a physical attraction between her and Danny. But that’s as far as a connection she felt. There were no sparks, no tingles, no butterflies or whatever the fairy tales tell you. There was just…sweat, pants, and a short high. 

Ophelia groaned. “I’m so jealous.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure your perfect guy is out there,” Kyrie said with a wave of her hand. “Isn’t that what they say anyway? You’ll find someone when you’re least expecting it or whatever that dumb shit is.”

“Yeah, that makes me feel better,” Ophelia rolled her eyes. 

“So, what are you going to do this year? String him along again, letting him drool at your feet?” Ell said, straightening out the comforter on her bed. Kyrie froze and tilted her head at the harshness of her words. “He’s clearly in love with you.”

Kyrie answered. “I was honest with him at the end of summer. I said whatever we were doing ends the second we get on the train to come back to Hogwarts. He’s one of my best friends and I don’t want to lose that over some hookup.”

“It wasn’t just a hook up to him, though.”

“Well, it was to me and I made that very clear to him the moment he kissed me for the first time. He knows where I stand and that’s that.” Kyrie said forcefully, growing more and more irritated by Ell’s attitude. “What’s with the third degree, Ell?”

“Nothing,” She shrugged, acting nonchalant. “Just want to make sure you know what you’ve gotten yourself into.” She turned to slide into her own bed.

Kyrie glanced at her other two friends from across the room, but both of them shrugged and awkwardly shuffled under their own covers.

“Whatever,” Kyrie said, changing the subject. “What do your schedules look like for tomorrow?”

[missluthorwillseeyounow]

Hii! If you want to: For the trope mashup: 12. Roommate Au + 63. Mistaken for a couple?

"How does my lipstick look, babe?"

Kelly finishes applying the light coat of plum lipstick onto her lower lip, and turns around for her girlfriend's inspection. Behind her, Alex grins.

"Like it wants me to kiss it off." An arm snakes around Kelly's waist, and she finds herself pressed against her girlfriend's wiry frame. Alex smirks, but she's careful to kiss the corner of Kelly's mouth to make sure she doesn't smudge her makeup.

"You look beautiful, as always. But like I told you, you don't have to look perfect today. It's just my sister." Alex's smile turns sweet, and her eyes soften as her intimate embrace turns into a comforting hug. "Kara's gonna love you, no matter how you look."

Kelly touches her cheek, smiling when Alex nuzzles into her hand. "I know, I just want to make a good impression."

Alex kisses her palm. "This goes both ways, you know. She'll be wanting to make a good impression on you too. She's probably driving Lena crazy rearranging their furniture for the twentieth time today."

Kelly tips her head curiously. "Lena?"

"Yeah. Her roommate." There's an exasperated note in Alex's voice that doesn't go unnoticed.

"Wait, Lena as in Lena Luthor? James's girlfriend?" Kelly's interest is piqued. "I knew Lena was sharing her apartment with a friend, and I know you said Kara had a roommate, but I didn't realize that the two of them lived together. Small world, huh?"

"Oh, it's about to get a lot smaller, babe." A grim smile accompanies the ominous words, but Kelly puts it down to Alex being dramatic. "You'll see."

Kara and Lena's apartment turns out to be a lovely pre-war brownstone in the quieter side of town, far enough away from the noise of the city, but close enough for a short commute.

The first thing Kelly sees when the door bursts open is a wide, beaming smile that's familiar to her from the photos on Alex's phone. Kara Danvers's smile radiates from a cellphone screen, but it's even brighter and lovelier in person.

"Hi, you must be Kelly! Welcome! It's so nice to meet you! I've heard so much about you from Alex and James, I feel like I know you already!"

Kelly barely gets a glimpse of blonde hair and blue eyes before she's swept into a friendly hug amidst the babble. She returns it as warmly, if not as enthusiastically. "It's great to finally meet you too, Kara."

Over Kara's shoulder, Kelly sees Lena Luthor saunter into the room at a much more sedate pace, a wry smile on her lips. "She's a hugger."

"Lena, hi." Once Kelly is released, she reaches a hand toward her brother's girlfriend.

"Hi, Kelly." Lena greets her with a delicate kiss to her cheek and a warm smile. "Always good to see you."

Kara blinks at both of them, looking between Kelly and Lena.

"Wait, you guys know each other...? Oh, right! James. Pfft." Kara smacks herself on the head with a sheepish smile. "Of course, I forgot."

Alex makes the strangest noise at that, something between a disgruntled snort and a derisive laugh. Kara blushes lightly and determinedly avoids Alex's eyes. Kelly turns to her girlfriend, but Alex just shakes her head.

The moment passes, and they're swept into the living room with offers of coffee, tea and snacks. As they move further into the apartment, Kelly immediately notices certain things.

The living room is bright and inviting, with large windows to let in natural light. There's art tastefully adorning the wall. Some rather expensive pieces that Kelly recognizes from the art classes she took in college, mixed with a few pieces that have a "KD" signature on the corners.

There's a lot of photos too, all of them featuring Kara and Lena together. Some framed and hung in places of honor on the walls, like the black-and-white picture of Kara and Lena, obviously taken at a gala, standing close with their arms around each other's waists.

Some are unframed -- like a grinning selfie of them together; a solo picture of Lena standing in front of an arcade booth, shyly tucking her head into a giant plushie; a photo of Kara painting at an easel; and a snapshot of Kara and Lena lounging outside what Kelly recognizes as Lena's summer lake house -- each tacked affectionately onto the refrigerator door with cute little magnets, along with ticket stubs and other mementos.

As the visit progresses, Kelly's observation shifts and hones in on the two women themselves.

Kara is delightfully enthusiastic as she questions Kelly about her job, her hobbies, how long she's lived in National City, how she and Alex met, if she's ever had any pets. There's a genuine curiosity to her questions, eager without being interrogating, interested without trying to intimidate -- as if she really just genuinely wants to know more about her sister's girlfriend.

And she and Lena are clearly very at ease together. They weave around each other fluidly -- Lena passing the mug Kara's reaching for before she even asks for it, Kara gently shifting Lena away from the home espresso machine so she can take over making the coffee.

This really shouldn't be surprising, considering they live together and they've introduced each other as "best friends". But there's something about the naked affection between them that surprises Kelly.

She's known Lena for a couple of years now, has seen her enough times to form an impression of her. When James had first taken Lena home to meet their family, Lena had been perfectly polite and lovely toward them, all smiles and poised grace, a bottle of Cheval Blanc in one hand and a bouquet of their mother's favorite azaleas in the other.

But as affable as Lena had been during each visit, Kelly had the feeling that Lena had never truly relaxed in their company, no matter how friendly they had been. There had never been any outward anxiety or awkwardness, but Kelly had gotten the sense that she was very carefully choosing every word, controlling every move, so as not to make a mistake. And while Kelly is never one for armchair diagnosing anyone -- especially not someone who is, for all intents and purposes, a friend -- her clinical brain had been skimming lightly over 'OCPD' and 'anxiety disorder' whenever she and Lena hung out.

So, to see Lena so comfortable and relaxed, so blatantly affectionate and intimate with another person, is admittedly a surprise to Kelly. Not a bad one, just... unexpected. And interesting.

Kelly observes both women keenly.

Kara joins them in the living room, balancing two cups of coffee in her hands. One she hands carefully to Kelly with a bright grin, and the other she places gently on the table in front of Lena. When Lena turns to her with a grateful smile, Kara bends down and presses a soft kiss to the top of her head. Lena closes her eyes for a moment and leans slightly closer to Kara.

Kelly tips her head curiously at them. "So... how long have you two been together?"

Lena blinks and turns away from Kara to pick up her own cup, blushing lightly. She clears her throat before taking a sip, but Kara just looks at her, grinning widely.

"Oh, we met about a year and half ago, when I did an article on her new nanobot technology. We nerded out so much together that the interview turned into lunch, then coffee, then dinner."

Kara leans toward Lena and nudges her lightly with her shoulder. "She was so brilliant and fascinating, and so passionate about her new projects that we couldn't stop talking. By the time I was ready to leave, I realized the office was empty, and Lena's assistant had left hours ago."

A soft shy smile graces Lena's face, and she ducks her head. "Kara's one of the few people who can keep up and actually challenge me when we're discussing nanotechnology and bioengineering."

On anybody else -- hell, even on the Lena that Kelly had been accustomed to -- it would sound arrogant and condescending. But Lena says it so softly, and she looks at Kara with such genuine adoration, that it can't be mistaken as anything but a sincere compliment. Kara lays a hand on Lena's, squeezing her fingers gently.

"We've been best friends ever since! And we just became so much closer since we moved in together. It's been, what, almost a year?" Kara looks to Lena for confirmation.

"Eleven months next week, darling." Lena says fondly as she stands to refill the pastry plate. Kelly looks between the two women and observes the soft bright gaze Kara sends Lena as she disappears into the kitchen.

"Eleven awesome months!" Kara beams as she takes a bite of her pastry. Across from her, Alex rolls her eyes heavenward.

Despite the occasional oddness, Kelly enjoys their visit. Kara and Lena are excellent company, and they're all having such a lovely time that Kelly and Alex decide to stay longer.

Toward the evening, the four of them end up getting dinner at a quiet little Italian bistro near the apartment.

They're getting into the wine when Kelly finally thinks it's safe to bring up the elephant in the room. She sets her wine glass down and regards Kara with a thoughtful smile.

"So, Kara... James told me that you were his friend, but he didn't tell me you were his meta as well."

Alex chokes on her wine, and Kelly serenely rubs her back. Alex coughs and attempts to hide an amused smirk behind her napkin.

"His what?" Kara blinks up at Kelly, her brows forming a confused crinkle on her forehead.

"His meta," Kelly prompts as clearly and as gently as she can. "You know, his metamour?"

"What's a metamour?" The crinkle on Kara's forehead grows, and she and Lena exchange a bewildered look.

Kelly studies both women closely. "It's the term used in polyamorous relationships for the partner of your partner."

"The partner of my...." It takes a few seconds, but it's clear when the realization hits Kara. Her cheeks bloom a bright red, and her eyes widen. Her mouth drops open, choking out a few stuttering sounds before she can speak again. "Oh. Oh. That's um -- I-I'm not, um-- Lena's, uh--"

Lena is the first to be coherent, and she swiftly snatches her hand back from where it had been resting next to Kara's on the table. Her lips narrow and a blush rises high on her cheeks. "Kara and I are just... friends."

Kara's face is fire-engine red, and she coughs out an awkward, almost manic laugh. "Yeah, no. We're not -- p-poly -- not that there's anything wrong with that, but um-- that's not us..."

Her breathless laugh trails off into a desperate wheeze, and she turns back to her plate of gnocchi, staring hard as if contemplating burying her face in it. Beside her, Lena discreetly throws back half the wine in her glass.

"My mistake," Kelly smiles, contrite. "I shouldn't have assumed."

Thankfully, the waiter arrives at the table, asking how they're enjoying their food, and they all jump at the distraction, assuring him that they find it all delicious. Once the waiter leaves, Kelly redirects the conversation to her trip to Italy a few years ago.

For the rest of the night, Kara makes a valiant attempt at a cheerful front, but it's clear that most of the wind has been taken out of her sails. Lena makes it through the rest of the dinner with a tight smile.

When they all finally part, and Alex slides into the car at the end of the night, Kelly turns to her girlfriend, widening her eyes. "Well. That was..."

Alex bursts out into a laugh, shaking her head. "I know, right?? I told you!"

"Wow..." Kelly shakes her head with a small chuckle. As Alex starts the car, she pulls out her phone and starts typing. Alex looks at her curiously.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm texting my Mom for her peach cobbler recipe," Kelly explains without looking up. "James may like to pretend he's all tough and stoic and unaffected after a breakup, but nothing makes him cry like our Mom's peach cobbler. It's very nostalgic for him."

Alex gives her a curious glance out of the corner of her eye as she pulls out onto the street. "You think my sister's gonna break James and Lena up?"

Kelly gives her a knowing smile. "I mean, babe... I like your sister, Kara seems like she wouldn't hurt a fly. And Lena's a nice person... But given what we saw tonight, I think we both know how that's gonna end up. And I still need to be there for my brother when he inevitably gets his heart broken."

"Fair enough."

...

...

When they visit Kara and Lena at their apartment again a few months later, nothing has changed.

It's the same cozy, pre-war apartment with large windows and high ceilings. The decor hasn't changed, and the same photos of Kara and Lena adorn the walls and the fridge.

The only thing that's different is that when Kara hands Lena her coffee, she doesn't kiss Lena on the top of her head. Instead, Kara puts down the coffee and gives Lena a sweet, lingering kiss on the lips instead.

While Alex pretends to gag and Kara throws a couch pillow at her head, Kelly smiles and lifts her coffee cup at Lena.

"Glad you finally figured that out."

Lena ducks her head shyly, but there's no carefully controlled tightness, no hidden anxiety in her eyes as she returns Kelly's smile. She takes a delicate sip from her cup.

"So am I."

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.72 The ambassador

On our way to the Arboretum, I highlighted a few noteworthy features of the neighborhood, including a shameless plug for my yoga classes at the Celebration Center. Clear skies and warm sun made it the perfect day for this tour. Though, there was never a wrong time to visit San Sequoia. Every day was perfect.

"This is Gilbert Gardens," I said, vaguely gesturing around us. "It's my favorite place in San Sequoia because it has so much to do for all ages."

"I can't get over this weather. Is it always this nice?"

"Amazing, right? That's one of the best parts about San Sequoia."

The warm rays beamed down on us while a cool breeze whisked back and forth, ensuring we remained comfortable. Dub glanced around, shaking his head in disbelief at the gorgeous weather.

"Henford is usually covered in snow right about now," he said with a hint of snark.

I chuckled at a memory that popped into my head.

"I've seen snow exactly twice in my life. It doesn't snow much in Willow Creek. That's where I've spent the most time."

"I think snow is overrated," Dub huffed, waving dismissively again.

"You might be right. I mean, it's super cold...you can't see if it's too thick...and you have to clean it up!"

He slapped my arm.

"See? I knew we were in sync."

"Playing in it looks fun, though."

"That's overrated too! I don't like my hands being cold. There's no fun in that!"

He was hilarious and I know he wasn't trying to be, but the fake outrage amused me.

"I might have to agree with you there," I said.

We got halfway around the lake before I realized I hadn't shown him much. I made a terrible tour guide, but I think we both enjoyed the company more; I know I did.

"I teach at that spa over there sometimes," I said.

"What do you teach?"

"Yoga. I also lead guided meditations."

"So, yoga videos and classes? You must really love it."

"I do."

His eyes squinted a bit, like he was processing my words or something. I hadn't said anything too deep. Was he one of those yogi haters?

"A good friend of mine just told me she's into it too," he said. "She says it's for therapeutic reasons."

"Good for her. I think everyone should be into yoga."

"Why do you say that?"

"It's great therapy. I think everyone should learn healthier ways to deal with stress. Sims turn to so many self-destructive ways of dealing with their problems, only to make it worse. Having a healthy body leads to a healthy mind."

"I'm sure Maia would agree. She made me promise to try it with her."

"I hope you do."

I hadn't heard of many men who had platonic relationships with women. Even I had some sort of physical attraction and a bit of lust for my female friends. What was his relationship with this friend?

"So...Maia, huh?"

"Yeah, she's my friend I mentioned."

"I see... Well, I'm glad you'll try it. I think you'll find it helps a lot.

He didn't catch it that time, but I wouldn't let him miss it the next time, and there would be a next time. I was sure of it.

"Over there, you have the splash park. Mostly kids hang out there. We can swim in this lake."

"It's huge!"

"Tell me about it. My dad and I jogged around it once. I think I nearly killed him. There's all kinds of trails around here, but this is my favorite."

As we approached the trailhead, Dub looked around in awe, exactly like I did the first time I visited. The garden was what made it exceptionally beautiful. The way they expertly arranged the flowers and creatively teased the topiaries, it truly was a work of art.

"Woooow. I never would have seen all this back here."

"They call it the Arboretum. You ready to go?"

"Always."

We stretched, and I recommended we take it easy and pace ourselves, but Mr. Funny Man had other ideas. Good thing I was also athletic. I accepted the challenge, but of course, I had to flex on him a few times.

I asked about his family. The fact that he was the oldest of three boys amazed me. With no brotherly figure or close friends in my life, I found it difficult to imagine the dynamics of such a relationship. Would I enjoy little brothers? Would they annoy me? Maybe both because little sisters could be fun and annoying. Dub and his brothers grew up on a farm, and he hated it. Memories of the sights and smells of cleaning out chicken coops and milking cows disgusted him all over again. I would never laugh at anyone's pain, but he was so easily grossed out. I almost wanted to try it to see if it was really that bad.

Naturally, he returned the same questions, and I told him about our family dynamics and how my sister and I bounced between Willow Creek and Evergreen Harbor our entire childhood. I kept it casual and didn't say anything emotional, but he remained silent. Maybe he was contemplating my situation just like I was considering farm life with a bunch of brothers.

We took a few breaks, and he guzzled his water as if he were on fire. I shook my head, secretly laughing at him for dashing off like it was a race. Eventually we arrived back at our starting point, winded but feeling like a million simoleons.

"That was a good run," he said. "Maybe the longest I've done so far."

"Yeah, before I ran around the lake it was my longest too."

"And it was very scenic, like you said."

"You should see it in the summer! It's amazing."

I could tell by how golden the sky was, and the emptiness in my stomach, dinnertime was near. I had another idea I hoped he'd be keen on.

"I'm usually having dinner about now. If you have more time, you wanna go to the best restaurant in San Sequoia?"

"Yeah! Uhh, actually, let me check with Maia first."

See? I knew he'd bring her up again. This dude was in love and didn't even know it, and it was so fun to watch. Even the way he said her name had hearts all over it.

"Of course. I wouldn't want to get you in trouble or anything," I said in a cheeky way.

"Whatever, man!"

He may have sounded offended, but I did not forget that grin. One way or another, I'd get their story out of him. Ugh...I was unquestionably my mother's child.

Wade Banks by @mysimsloveaffair

[drowninghell]

Songs that remind the turtles of first falling Inlove with you PT 1

Leo x gn reader Raphael x gn reader

I hope you enjoyed this! I love using music to write and I hope you agree with the song choice for each boys! I will do a Mikey and Donnie version at some point also! Let me know what you think! Everyone aged up , listen to the song while reading for

Full effect!

Leonardo

I found by amber run

https://youtu.be/CTspcr3Iaws

Now , you. You stumped him. Well and truly, he wasn’t supposed to fall in love , not with anyone. Then he met you.

-You snuck up on him. An acquaintance the blue clad terrapin had made through April and Casey. He was polite with you. Always. However, being in close proximity of course he spoke to you.

-The more he spoke to you the more he found himself wanting to divulge to you. He enjoyed your reactions to things, how you had this smile that was quintessentially you.

-he didn’t even realise what was happening to him at first. The stolen glances across the room , finding himself hoping to run in to you.

—how when he actually was in a conversation with you, his great hands would clam up and he would be at a loss of what to say. He just felt anxious constantly when you where around , his tentative eyes always following you with such a carefulness, an air of unsure.

-He never looked at anyone that way before.

-It was actually April that pointed it out to him , and when he himself put two and two together he was scared.

-Fearless was fearful.

-It didn’t make sense, he was refined and disciplined. Honed to be the perfect leader, perfect ninja.

-having feelings, being emotional and distracted , it wasn’t like him , yet , he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

-falling Inlove with you was like falling asleep , little by little and then all at once.

-he tried for days , weeks , to distance himself , to be cold to you. To not indulge in your morning conversations over a cup of tea, or to not take you seriously when asking for advice on martial arts.

-the look on your face , it had his jaw set in a hard line. Anxiety and guilt swirled in the pit of his stomach. in his mind, it was better, if he could sever that connection, he could concentrate , he needed to breath again.

-until one day you pulled him on it.

- “have I done something? Leo?” standing before him, with such a defiance it made him quirk a brow. He could tell you were tired with the hot and cold and honestly he felt tired doing it.

- He feigned annoyance and went to step around you whilst muttering a simple “ no.”

- It was against his nature to be this way inclined but his desire to put himself out of his misery outweighed all.

- You wouldn’t want to be with someone like him, and he didn’t blame you.

-What he wasn’t expecting for your hand to take hold of his wrist with a gentle touch, one that made his skin feel uncomfortably hot. He halted immediately, his body not listening and automatically obeying you. He couldn’t look to meet your gaze.

-“ talk to me. I miss my friend. “

- with that he caved. Turning around to face you with the most pained expression, despite his efforts to quell it.

- He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came,looking to meet your gaze before sighing.

- “ I - I can’t be your friend.” He spoke , his voice low. Barely above a whisper. Your fave fell then, your hand recoiling like you had been stung.

- “ I have this feeling in my stomach when I’m around you, and , my chest, it hurts.” He tried to explain, for someone so adept , so skilled. He was struggling to articulate how he was feeling.

- You quirked your head , confused.

- He watched your expression like a hawk, those beautiful blue eyes boring into yours. When you didn’t get what he meant he sighed, more frustrated at himself.

- “ all I can do is think about you. About how your day has been, when I’ll talk to you next, do you like me? Is my conversation interesting enough , - I , it hurts-.” His voice was raising as did the pace of his speech.

- You could see the downward spiral of the leader, the inner turmoil as he avoided eye contact, as he tried to choke out his words.

- As he continued his speech, you got it, and god, did your heart soar.

- Taking a step forward , pure instinct driving you towards him, standing chest to chest, your proximity had him halting his words, looking down at you with a bewildered curiosity before you leaned up and caught his lips with yours.

- He was still for a moment before he melted into the kiss.

- He just sunk into it, the tension fleeing from his rigid modules,his hands coming to cup your face with such a gentleness. His hulking form shadowing yours.

- He kissed you back with such a serious raw emotion , such pent up list and desire for you.

- God did he find love where it wasn’t supposed to be.

Raphael

If it means a lot to you

https://youtu.be/cWzTgxCAYVU

-Everyone knew that you and Raphael would end up together. Well… everyone except the two of you.

-from the first few weeks of the big bara knowing you , the chemistry between you two, it was magnetic. Being constantly drawn together.

-the constant witty banter , the flirty verbal sparring that neither of you would back down from.

- you always won though, you could always make him flustered.

- He was c r a z y about you.

- The way your hips moved when you walked, how you pursed your lips thinking of the next comeback , the wicked grin that rarely strayed from your features , he loved it.

- Not only that, but very, very few people could have Raphael in his place the way you could and did he find that hot. You didn’t balk in the face of his seething hot temper or his off putting attitude.

- You stood toe to toe with him.

- His brothers rarely relented teasing him about you. Again. Everyone was waiting for months for one of the two of you to make a move.

- In his mind though, it was never the right time, constantly hyping himself up to do it, to spill his guts and shoot his shot, surely by the way you reacted to the flirting you where interested.

- He worried about keeping you safe a lot, worried that bringing you fully into this life would be dangerous.

- And lastly, his insecurity reared it’s ugly head and affirmed how he felt. That he wasn’t good enough for you.

- You deserved to be with someone better than some freak , some monster.

-so he never did ask you out. In your mind you where confused. You thought, maybe he felt the same way you did.

-how you would be inches away from each others faces, chiding one another with flirty commentary,

- you where confused at the least, months went by, close to a year.

- You felt like you where going crazy.

- Did he not like you?

-so one day, as he was pushing out his last failure rep, you decided to pose the question.

“ so, red , when are you gonna ask me out huh?”

- he choked, struggled to push the weight up and slammed it into the rack. Pulling himself out from under the chest press and standing to his full height.

- “ what?” He was flustered , hard to know from the weight or the question.

- “ you heard me.”

- “ you don’t wanna go out with me.” Straight away he had an answer, which caused her to quirk a brow.

- “ oh, so you know what I want?”

- With that he turned his back to her and pretended to busy himself putting weights back on the rack. When he sensed that you weren’t going to relent he gave in.

- “ you just don’t wanna go out with me , end of.” He was sharper this time, more pronounced in his words.

- “ what do you mean end of , it’s just a conversation?”

- “ stop pushin’ it alright”

- You where getting frustrated now, hurt, was he stringing you along? Did he even like you?”

- “ well if you are Gonna shoot me down gimme a real reason, not that ‘ you don’t wanna’ crap.”

- With that Raphael turned around, irritated by you pushing the subject, not seeing the hurt on your face.

- “ you wanna reason, I’ll give ya a real reason.” He went to the corner of the room and pulled the old cracked sheet of mirror and sat it against the wall.”

- “Okay look at you, alright? An look at me.”

- You just stared at him dumbfounded.

- “ and?”

- “ and, you , you deserve better. Not some mutant freak.” He was pacing now, still pretending to be busy.

- “ well you are not my keeper and are certainly not about to tell me who I deserve.”

- “ well what about keeping you safe, it’s dangerous to be with me “

- “ why do you have all these reasons not to be with me?” You where getting irritated now, standing up to be before him.

- “Im bad for you, (y/n)”

- “ look, tell me, do you even like me or have I completely misread us? “ He was shocked with how upfront you were being, it wasn’t like you to seem this rattled.

- “ cause these past six months , all I can think about is you! Raphael! It’s always gonna be you and I thought.. I thought you felt the same.”

- “ I do.” He said firmly , brow ridge furrowed. “ but I’m trying to look out for you! To protect you! Don’t you get that? It’s dangerous!” His voice was booming now, your faces where inches apart , yet neither of you submitted.

- “ I don’t need you to protect me Raphael! Damn all the reasons! I want you! You don’t decide whats good for me! I do’ “ you where screaming at each other, voicing your frustrations, months and months of sexual tensions at a boiling point.

- Raphael pressed his lips in a form line before he leaned in and crashed his lips against yours.

- Gladly you reciprocated. Mouths clashing together in such a feverish embrace. You where so hungry for each other. He leaned down into the kiss, hands grabbing at your thighs as he picked you up with such an ease that he never even broke the kiss. Your hands looped around his neck, fingers brushing along the thick scales of his shoulders.

- Only when the two of you where left panting and breathless did you break this kiss, both of you somewhat shocked. Before quickly going in for seconds. It just felt right , the pair slotting together like the perfect puzzle.

- From that day, very rarely have you parted

- Sure , everyone knew it would happen eventually.

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