#i mean its still bad you can definitely tell that i dont paint

[real-godzekiel]

i DONT know if you still do spookys hcs but if you have any for specimen 12 or its host........

YES OF COURSE but just keep in mind i am a little rusty when it comes to spooky lore right now. too many new games are filling up the storage space in my brain but i think i can contribute some stuff. i'll start off with the host before moving on to the Specimen itselfI must admit that when I first heard the pretty-much-canon idea of the old man being the vlogger in endless I shat myself. But then I remembered geriatric1927 and how my grandma used to play Fruit Ninja and realized my shitting of myself is probably just ageism. Old man used to film abandoned buildings and it's fucking awesome until it isn't. I think from what you can read of the vloggers' notes, he seems to have a certain attachment to having an audience. Bro really starts a note off with "Hey everybody" and "Ok guys". I don't know why he stops after Specimen 12. I guess the mansion-in-mansion has something that bears off people's coping mechanisms.

Just to somewhat build upon the previous point, I want to spectulate on the old man's past a bit. The mansion controls the host to "attack with various means depending on the host's characteristics." I absolute do NOT think Protag ended up as anything near a new host instead of their own specimen, I think that theory is a bit poo poo. However, I do find it fun to compare these two ex-"typical humans" a bit. Specimen 14 is angry and stiff, at least in what most people picture them and what the Bad Ending somewhat suggests to me. Of course, most protagonists are just Like That, but from all that shit about Specimen 7 and "It Was Never A Mask" achivement name for the bad ending. Specimen 14's violence, to me at least, stems from rage and fear and the need to survive and tell these monsters who's boss based on a more stoic past personality. Old man's not like that. Maybe staying way too long in painted walls and floors fucked him up a little, but I still think that, with his vlogger persona and the way he talks, that he values his relationships with other people a hell lot. An extrovert, perhaps. I can't be sure. In any respect, this further explains how the mansion fucked him up.

Overanalyzing time, but I also find it interesting how in his Specimen 12 notes when he hears movements and voices downstairs he immediately goes: "Finally, other survivors. Ah yes. This is definitely some other survivors and it will be a Good Thing." He also acts like he's finally something to do whenever he first appears. It would be even funnier if he knows when and where you're hiding at times but just doesn't do anything about it because he deliriously thinks it's against the "rules" of the game he wants to play with you. I mean. There's this:

Old man has probably been reading "fake" books and eating "fake" food for at least half a decade. The food has probably permanently distorted his taste buds. Not sure about his speech, however. He probably tries to play pretend and conversewith the wall. or this thing. but still. the lack of another human intelligence articulating complete sentences to his face has likely signficantly deterioriated his ability to hold long conversations.

Stays in his area most of the time, but not because he likes it. He subconsciously thinks it to be a safer area than other parts of the mansion.

He is not friends with any of the Specimens. This includes Specimen 12 itself, as his possessed mind blocks out information regarding the mansion being the entity that is using him. He has no idea what has happened to him.

Old Man has never had a wife nor did he have kids. His parents died of natural causes a while after he went into the mansion. This is perfect for Specimen 12 because that means its host does not have to think too much. Yup!

Ok onto the Specimen itself

Not a spirit. Not an individual. Not a hivemind. Certainly an entity and not a natural force. Like Whiskers in Growing Your Grandpa, I believe Specimen 12 is something that grows depending on what happened in and around it. A tragedy canonically has taken place in it, and I think the vengeful souls that were lost during the massacre made it their duties to continue a cycle of violence and madness.

It has regretted the decision to move here. There are too little people and they always only come by themselves. There are not enough hosts to manipulate. To use so it can explain how they are planning to leave. Things are getting too slow and yes I am suggesting that the old man has the highest life expectancy a Specimen 12 host ever had. I think Specimen 12 used to be somewhere else, and bloodbaths were more often back then. A huge group of people would often come to investigate past atrocities or to challenge their friends, and crowds would come to be driven to paranoia and murder. After the entire area became restricted to anybody, there was no one. Specimen 12 moved to Spooky's after that, but kills are slow and scarce. It is currently stockpiling murdered souls for a trip around the world.

Flexible, but not very smart itself. Cannot quite find a balance to unnerve visitors while also compelling them to stay. It does chores. It does what it does to maintain its host and trap new victims. (UNNATURALLY GENERATED FOOD! eat it my bald middle-aged child) Not that smart about what to clean and what to keep. Sickle man's notes have been left for years and it did not ever think of cleaning them up. I think it is probably powerful enough to clean it up, but it doesn't. When you're trying to pretend to be a normal mansion so people would stay and get killed, you probably would think of cleaning that up. I think Specimen 12 a just a bit stupid, although that is partly due to it probably not having an actual mind of its own. kind of House of Leaves type shit, but nerfed (coconot make a horror-related post without mentioning house of leaves challenge)

Old Man's dislike of most other Specimens is put onto by Specimen 12, somewhat. Specimen 12 has a filter system of some kind, only letting in creatures that can either be killed by the host or become a new host. It does it by making other Specimens forget what they were visiting Specimen 12 for, if there are any possible reasons, however minute. It has to do this to protect its host, mainly. Also, some Specimens leave dirty prints and marks on the floor. There is not much it can do about what Old Man does outside the mansion, although Old Man is stuck connected with Specimen 12 until he dies. (Spooky can come, though. She does her monthly inspections and hangs up decorations sometimes. These decorations disappear about a week after they are put up, for some reason. )

Most Specimens don't want to find out what happens if they try to kill Specimen 12's host. They don't even know if it really gets angry, or just generates out consequences to further its own purposes. Nevertheless, interferring with Specimen 12 is an one-way ticket to a month of zero kills for themselves, as it will grow to lead visitors away from the offending Specimen.

The 12th key on the piano plays an unpleasant screeching sound.

So this took a few hours and I am not even close to being certain that most of this can fit the actual lore of spooky's. honestly, take it as it is. i wished i had more funny ideas, but "if Specimen 12 has no bathroom where does Old Man excrete" is not really appropriate. Not something I would want to write about. I have no more clue what to write.

Here's some silly comments in Specimen 12's Fandom Wiki page:

that's it. feel free to leave a comment if you notice anything not matching up in this list of headcanons. i am going to sleep now. yes

[thenixkat]

and you punched the metahuman victim because?

Batman's a bigot let's just say it

like, asshole you coulda punched Luthor instead of Luthor's victim Batman claims he only joined Luthor to figure out what Lex had been doing with Captain Marvel

Batman's group was plotting to double cross the villains

hmm maybe knocking Billy the fuck out while you explained to the room what Luthor did to him wasnt the best idea Bruce

especially teh part with you chasing with a gun while revealing everything that he knows is a lie

ah the dehumanization of prisoners who are only prisoners b/c a bunch of unsanctioned vigilantes kidnapped them for not bowing to their top vigilante

oh no how dare the people you kidnapped and put in a reeducation camp kill one of the guards keeping them locked up. The savages

meanwhile the regular people, the US president decides to drop nukes on the brawl at the Kansas gulag of course SUperman's the only hope. Also its nice to see someone acknowledging that Captain Marvel can match Superman

Wonder Woman attempts to kill Batman for talking shit. B/c we need someone to make the bad guy, and that's clearly what they've been trying to do with wonder woman here

just trying to murder someone who is there to help quell the revolution and keep teh prisoners in this illegal reeducation camp just cause they have an attitude is the best behavior from a superhero

Batman and Wonder Woman decide to stop fighting eachother and take on the planes carrying nuclear bombs. Granted i doubt either of them considered what the president might do is the heroes stop him from bombing them and their illegal prison camp

its probably not the best thing to say that all metas need to die for the sake of the world company that's bread and butter is selling stories about super people doing shit. But go off, which yer shitty shitty morals

The SPectre plans to punish who ever survives, the humans or the metas for the genocide that occurs either way, b/c teh Spetre is a shitty shitty superhero and an even more shit angel

and it picked up the narrator cause it cant tell teh future and needed help with teh judgment call cause the only two options the writers have decided to railroad shit into is either the metas get genocided or the metas take up humanity with infighting nevermind any other potential options

and the narrator chews teh Spectre the fuck out for simply being an all powerful observer and doing shit for dick to make shit better

so Superman decides to murder the UN for deciding to bomb his illegal prison camp and all of his friends who'd kidnapped people from all over teh world and were fighting all out to keep those prisoners from escaping that could have resulted in countless regular people casualties

teh narrator talks Superman down from murdering the UN

again with the people seeing superheroes as gods thing. I assure you that it'd be more normal for the average person to think of superpowers folks as just some asshole rather than a god

man i dont like this story

but also i love how solving problems along side the common folk doesnt involve like stopping being vigilantes and working through official channels. And it definitely wont mean doing shit that reduces crime in general

Batman rebuilds Wayne manor and turns it into a hospital to care for the people harmed by the radiation but he's still got multiple death robots just in every room watching people and he continuously patrols said hospital

why the fuck does Wonder Woman deserve to regain her crown when she tried to st

art a totalitarian regime?

fuck her and Superman and Wonder Woman hook up b/c they cant just leave a woman unattached

I dont care for the story. I didnt even find out the info I fucking read it for

I will say that its well painted and that painting a comic is an ordeal, too bad its wasted on this story

and Wonder Woman's fucking pregnant! Of course b/c that's the only way to heal and move forward hook up and have babies

of course other heroes breeding is a problem b/c they just spawn amoral wild animals but its ok for Wonder Woman and Superman to breed

they want Bruce to be a godparent to the baby. Bruce is shitty parent thank fuck its over

[razzmothazz]

random yuno stuff to make up for the fact ive only been rambling abt makoto so far

yuno is a little MENACE /aff they love pulling little pranks, annoying people and inconveniencing them in little ways. she obviously never takes it far and because she can read people well, they know when someone is too annoyed/upset and makes sure to apologize and make it up to them when she gets carried away. she loves playful banter and their love laguage is definitely friendly bullying

doesnt have the best relationship with her dad and her mom is uhm . out of the picture you could say [this is a pun only i and perhaps pinna get but i will elaborate on it. someday] so they tend to sneak out a lot to stay with UNIT MEMBER THAT SHALL NOT BE MENTIONED UNTILL MY SISTER DECIDES TO FINALLY FLESH THEM OUT AND TELL ME ABOUT THEM. anyway yeah yuno doesnt like staying home unless its them locked up comfy in their room doing their own thing, so they go out a lot and spend most of their time out and about doing whatever they feel like doing

despite their cheery and energetic personality, their mindset is actually pretty nihilistic, believing nothing really matter and life has no set meaning. she believes people exist just to exist, same as everything else. youre born, you live, you die. however she doesnt see it as a bad thing, it motivates her to make life as fun as possible while it lasts and to not dwell on anything too long since its inconsequential in the long run, my girl just wants to have fun with it !!

very creative person !!! she cant stick to just one art medium for too long and instead does all kinds of stuff, their favourite form is watercolor painting tho! she thinks the soft look of the paints is very pretty, but besides that she also does sculptures, writing, other types of paintings, digital art, sewing, literally you name any form of artistic craft and they probably tried it at least once, its their main form of self expression since they dont talk about their feelings like. at all

related to the feelings thing, theyre VERY expressive, which is one reason why they never feel the need to talk about their feelings, its cause everyone can simply tell what they feel. she learned that if people cant read you they will ask too many questions and get overly concerned, so she started putting her feelings on full display, yet still doesnt like elaborating on them. shes the kind of person you can know for years and suddenly you realize that after all this time spent together, you dont know much about them at all. she doesnt feel the need to open up, believing some things arent important for others to know [mostly because of her life "philosophy" or whatev u wann call it]

their fav colours are yellow and pink!!! pretty obvious since they LOVE wearing them, most of their closet is actually made up of clothing in those exact colours :3 if you ask her to pick between those 2 colours she will go on a rant about how its impossible to choose and will make the speech overly emotional and theatrical for no reason other than to mess with you

speaking of theatrical shes a HUGE wxs fan !!! she randomly saw their show one day when hanging out at the phoenix wonderland and LOVED IT!!! again, she loves every form of art so this was to be expected. emu especially caught their eye with her silly childlike wonder vibes, not to mention the pink hair was an immediate attention grab for yuno lmao. when they learn more about the troupe they grew to not only admire and respect them as performers but also on a more personal level, especially tsukasa and his leadership and sheer stage presence. i feel like tsukasa would definitely end up treating yuno like another one of his siblings tbh dkdghdjdhbd they have a pretty silly dynamic in my head

basically she thrives in any social setting, not everyone enjoys their company but shes not bothered by that at all and continues to do her own thing and being their silly energetic self, its no fun otherwise for them

she enjoys learning and wants to learn so many random things.. they also often just study how other people act and have a very strong interest in psychology and social stuff, you can often catch her staring and looking around at others with an oddly determined and focused look. despite her love of learning they do NOT enjoy school, mostly using it as a social space and an excuse to not be home. their grades are fine, but she finds most classes boring and only wants to learn stuff that interests her.

one of her hobbies includes fixing random stuff no matter how difficult with no experience because shes convinced she can just "figure it out" and it always works. they cant explain how they did it exactly but she will fix pretty much anything up somehow. everyone finds it a little scary because you can find her messing with electrical objects to fix them with zero clue on what to actually do to fix them. but they will always be fixed.

their only issue that they cant seem to brush off and follows them around no matter what is their fear of abandonment, she feels the constant need to be around people and have as many close friends as possible, they cant stand being alone. its no fun living when you have no one. they want to do their thing and have fun, but sometimes the self doubt creeps in and she starts wishing she was more normal. its a constant struggle for them, but they still tend to try and brush it off with some excuse like "i can always find someone else", and immediately feel weird about thinking that because who would want to replace their friends like that? this runs rlly deep btw and i wanna expand on this more when i figure out her backstory properly

so yeah, they stay silly but at what cost... /j

basically yuno is like. the embodiment of "i was born to love my friends and have a silly fun time"

i had way more thoughts but this is all i remember rn soooo BYE

[in-my-feels-probably]

Hi! It’s no worries I’ve been around this app long enough to know it’s kinda buggy lol. Anyways, I actually remembered just now I wrote out my request in a random google doc before I sent it and never deleted it so I have able to just copy/paste!

Congrats on 1.7k!! May I have a romantic hunger games (it can be either the original films or the newer one) option 2 match up please? I go by she/her and am bi with no preference, so any gender is fine.

I’m about 5’5, dark blue eyes, medium length hair thats kinda too dark to be dirty blonde but not so dark that its light brown with slightly lighter blonde highlights throughout. Ive been told I typically wear what would be considered 90s type of style but leaning away from more feminine things tho I’m not opposed to dresses and all.

I do get pretty anxious when thrown in certain situations rather that be talking to a group of people or just one person. But on occasion and definitely when I get to know someone I never stop talking. I am a ranter and rambler which means I could be ranting about something that happened and then start talking about something else that may or may not be related to the original subject. Basically I will always find something to talk about though I do enjoy listening to other people talk. I am considered the mom friend because I tend to be the most logical. Im also a very determined, stubborn person who usually is kinda pessimistic but still has a huge imagination. And despite all the anxiety I am usually a relatively confident person and am not afraid to take up for anyone I care about. Also I am pretty good in school despite having a kinda bad memory. Also an INTJ, Sagittarius, and Ravenclaw.

I absolutely love writing and have for the longest time rather that be random original stories I make up or the various fanfics I have(lol). I also love drawing and painting and recently realized I’m actually pretty good at making art related to animals and the occasional landscape. I’ve also been a big music fan since I was a kid, I honestly dont know what I would do without it. I also really enjoy reading when I get the chance, like I could spend hours getting consumed by whatever I’m reading. Which also travels into me when I’m watching things. As in I spend a good bit of time just binge watching new or old shows. I also really like walking around and enjoying nature. Theres a few nature trails I love going on and would go to the zoo every weekend if I had the chance. Which also goes along to my love for animals. Also I do like going to random places with my friends.

And thats about all I can think of to say, hope it wasnt too much lol. But anyways, thanks in advance :)

hi!

thanks for participating :)

since you have no gender preference, i’ll tell you who i ship you with out of both the boys and the girls, and then do the full thing for who i think you’re better suited for.

i ship you with katniss and peeta! i’m gonna go with katniss for this, hope that’s ok :)

katniss is absolutely not a people person. small talk makes her uncomfortable, and putting on a mask and playing a part doesn’t come easy to her. there’s a handful of people she’s comfortable talking to, and the rest don’t matter to her. she’d understand your apprehension getting to know people. but she’d feel pretty special when you opened up to her and started feeling comfortable venting and rambling. she may not be one for talking, but she does like listening. and you could listen to you talk for hours about whatever you wanted, happy to listen. you’re very alike as people. your values, your view on life, your temperament and your personality. you both being headstrong and stubborn could get in the way of your relationship sometimes, but you’d always manage to make her go soft around you. you’d be one of the few people that make her happy and help her feel relatively calm and safe, so she wouldn’t want to ruin that with petty arguments and bickering. you’d learn to work past it together quickly so you could get back to the simple things.

katniss doesn’t have much time for hobbies. plus, i don’t think she really allows herself the time to be idle. you’d have to constantly remind her to take a break and relax for a little while. she’d be too impatient for reading or art, but she’d enjoy hearing what you were reading about or working on. it would give her a sense of domesticity that she craved. and later on after the rebellion, she’d slowly start feeling more comfortable joining you with your hobbies and finding some of her own. i don’t think she considers herself to be a very talented person, but she would get a small sense of accomplishment and pride when she found a hobby she both enjoyed and was good at.

—

the place she’d most feel at peace would probably be the forest. walking along the streams, hunting for deer, just breathing in the fresh air. it would be a place she enjoyed going alone, but eventually, she’d start asking you to go with her. she’d show you all the best places she’d come to catch something or just clear her mind for a little while. it would be peaceful and quiet, which she’d love. one day, she’d ask you if you wanted to bring along something to draw with. she’d take you up to a ridge she liked to sit at, letting you sit down and draw the landscape while she hunted for a few minutes. eventually, she’d make her way back to you, sitting down next to you.

“no luck?” you’d ask when you noticed her coming back with a full quiver and no kill.

she’d shrug, setting down her bow. “found a few wild turkeys down by the river. some of the hens were nesting. i didn’t want to bother them yet.”

you’d nod, going back to your drawing. she hadn’t been gone that long, but you’d already made significant progress drawing the ridge and hillside that led down into the valley where the meadow was. you could feel her eyes on you as you worked, and you’d eventually feel her chin rest on your shoulder as you started drawing one of the trees, making you smile. you liked when she was soft like this.

“that’s pretty,” she’d murmur, fascinated by the way you worked. “peeta could’ve used you down at the bakery if he knew you could draw like this.”

“i wouldn’t want to upstage him,” you’d joke, knowing what peeta used to do took a lot of time and skill that only he could make look easy.

she’d chuckle, and you could feel her smile as she looked over your shoulder. “i don’t think he’d mind.”

you’d sit in silence another moment before deciding to take a break, setting your things down. you’d watch the ridge together, peering down through the valley where the spring flowers were just beginning to grow.

“you never told me we had flowers like this in the district.”

“they only grow in the spring,” she’d explain, resting her head against your shoulder. “my father told me the soot from the mines stifles them before they have a chance to grow. but out here in the meadow, they’re untouched. they can grow a few feet tall if they’re not harvested right away. you can use the roots for medicine…i used to bring prim some.”

you could hear the hurt in her voice at the mention of prim’s name. she’d grow quiet again, her eyes locked on the ridge. she was afraid if she looked over at you, she wouldn’t be able to keep it together. you figured it was best not to pry about it—not now, at least. instead, you’d pick up your drawing, handing her a few pencils.

“pick a few colors. i want to draw the flowers in too.”

she’d give you a small smile and nod, immediately reaching for the green pencil. you’d grin, setting the rest of the pencils down as you began working again.

“i should’ve known.”

—

thanks again for participating! i hope you liked this :)

[hellcatinnc]

Lover Pretend Review

Includes Spoilers

Eiichirou Asagi

His laugh is adorable and I can't help wanting to want to date him from the start I hate I had to wait. He has a smile and personality that just makes you want to pounce your professor I mean seriously who would not want to be mentored and seduced by this man. I squealed when I got to his route and I swear this man will be the death of me. It is hot when a man says "Good Girl" but damn this man kept saying after he was say to do something like seriously WTF... I found myself literally drooling over this man and his CG like oh there is the one with his tongue tasting his fingers. Somehow I feel like he is blocked til last because this professor is a naughty man and damn I wish you could go more in depth with that. I need a fan disk with more Eiichirou in it!!!

So this man is like the whole package I had no clue anyone would truly take my attention away from Riku & Yukito but damn everything about this man is better. He even flirts but in a almost not knowing way like when you take him food as an assistant he talks about how you would make a great wife like WHHAATT!! Even when you find out he is your brother he still wants you because he is in love with you. Like I know it may sound bad but fuck if he was gonna be in my bed and I just found that out I would shred the results act like I never saw them. anyways he is a bad boy with his naughtiness like kissing you when your asleep, or putting his arms around you at the arcade. Even at the point where you hug and kiss him and he tells you if your doing very special then you need to add more to it for the very part. Like he is in his 30s and makes these little boys seem useless. He is always dressed nice and sexy. Shoot if I could see a professor like that in my colleges I'd gladly go back to school.

Also he has his sweet and tender side like where he will get sparklers and step away from the crowd to be close to you and share your own connection. Or the fact some guys try to fuck with you and his possessiveness and protectiveness kick in and he is intimidating to the guys. Shoot this is a man that has a very dominate side and you can see it makes your mind wonder of what he could do to you. He even helps you win a stuffed animal at the arcade like this man is perfect he is definitely the man that could bring all the naughty professor vibes to play. I know alot of people hate that his is a shorter version than everyone else's route and yeah I wish it was longer however I get why its shorter to because unlike them that had to meet her and fall in love with you he already was. Him and Kazuma have already known your long enough so they dont per-say need to fall.

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Riku Nishijima

This man is sophisticated and professional but damn when he starts acting and gets passionate about his words he can captivate any heart especially with his smile. When you do his romance route you find he can be a jack of all trades. He will tease you to make you blush and be cute, he also likes the be mischievous and cheeky in his own way. He has a naughty boy side thats severely hot, he is jealous and possessive which possessive men are always hot. He likes cute things like milk and bananas together he is quiet lazy but to me I felt he was the closest to a all around guy with many sides. At some points he is the sad boy, sheltered rich kid and more. I can believe he does not get noticed as much as he should. Don't get me wrong in the beginning I didn't know if I would like him I mean yeah he is hot but he seemed to stiff.

However you find that his father being overly strict in everything he has done in acting has made him feel like this is what he has to be. His rough side the side of him you see his love of art is so adorably cute like his hair all roughed up and paint all over him yep thats hot. The mc is perfect she even admits that he is practically sexier in his real self more lazy than the prince charming façade he gives off. He can come of manipulative as well but I feel alot of that comes from his up bring from his dad to show biz itself. I feel like once you see his personality you find he is actually quiet cheeky and a bit of a naughty boy.

Like he has a good tolerance for sure the mc makes him wait like 2 years to even have sex that is absolutely crazy that poor man I mean least you know he ain't going no where when he doesn't leave in that time. I can't imagine why you would have this hot of a man at home and not want to be in bed with him. He has the cutest likes at a festival his eyes light up when it comes to eating cotton candy and for snacks he loves bananas and milk. Its kind of a cute combo and he likes being fed and he is too lazy to blow his own food. Its funny this might be red flags for some but the way he was when he admits he loves you makes sense. Like I love the end when he talks about having kids like omg this man takes my heart over and over again. He is the perfect amount of sexy, flirty, naughty, and sweet all together. to me there is no better bae or husbando in this game than him.

He knows how to be the cutest like for his birthday he talks about wanting matching tea cups absolutely adorable. I want to also take into play how his possessiveness is towards any guy however Sena just happens to get on his nerves fast with hittin on the mc. I honestly feel like if Sena pushed any harder I think Riku would punch him. His acting is amazing his artwork is too. You even get to see him with his father which is rocky but he stands up for the mc against him and anyone especially once he realizes he is in love. I love another part of the ending soon he don't mind his girl tying his hair up as if he was a little kid in how it looks to get it out of his eyes. This proves when he is in love thats it. Only thing I didn't like is they say he plans to travel when he graduates leaving her behind however if I caught it right at the very end they are practically saying that he plans to stay behind that year graduate the next when she does so they both can go overseas.

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Yukito Sena

The moment you meet this man his flirts begin but of course I love that in a love interest. Of course the MC isn't having it so when he chooses you to act with him in auditions this man takes it to a whole new level. He is sneaky and sly and down right sexy as hell. He even acts as he is groveling on the floor for you to let him kiss you and when you say ok you will be his he makes you say it all together and not as quick words. This is his slyness as a fox but oh so smooth, he has some mad game. I tell you it doesn't take long to want more of this man. The longer you play you realize there is so much more to him than modeling. Like due to his father being in showbiz and causing a image of himself as a playboy when Yukito steps into the spotlight its all people believe he is worthy of so not taken seriously. He becomes what everyone wants but yet still deep down he isn't like that. He has women who flirt and are all about him but he even admits later its more of a image or to get them more noticed in the spotlight etc.

He loves to flirt but he really is sweet about it and I think he grows to have feelings alot earlier on because finally someone sees him for more than the model and pawn everyone else sees. That being said its cute when he brings up often "Are you in love with me yet?" This is what makes it clear he is already smitten yet still trying to keep that image up. He wants and needs someone to push him and tell him when he needs to fix things and this is what makes him so intrigued with you. You can tell he does anything to get close even pretend to be your boyfriend when its supposed to push a girl away he isn't into yet you find any chance he gets he mentions oh were doing stuff like a real couple. Honestly I feel like everyone but the MC gets how in love he has fallen by this point.

The way he handles it when she blurts out they can't get any closer after he mentions wanting to kiss and then she says we can't you might be my brother. The look on his face like oh thats the only reason she didn't want to get close is because she thinks this. Don't get me wrong I think it was what the mc had to tell herself because I think she had fallen for him awhile back when she didn't expect it and all the emotions were coming to the top now. Honestly there was no way she was going back I'm afraid even if it had came out he was her brother, I do not know how long it would have kept them apart before that line would have been blurred due to both people in love with each other already.

Not gonna lie I'm glad there were a good amount of CG pictures and boy did he look hot as hell in everyone of them. I'm normally not into blondes but damn he can make any woman melt especially with that wink, smile, and look in his eyes. He is a naughty boy as well you realize that later when your together about how bad he wants you in every way. When he confesses to you he loves you and gets the reciprocation he has no problem setting it straight completely with the girl he works with that he is in no way interested or will he ever be and that he loves you. Its sweet he would make sure to do this in front of you letting you know how much you mean to him. One thing I thought was super sweet is earlier on you go out for a drink with him and he orders you a drink. Not knowing there is a meaning to that drink you just enjoy it and move on. Near the end of the story you find as you wait for him that the bartender tells you that the drink given to a woman by a man means the man is plainly saying "I'm in love with you and have fallen so fast". Like he was already trying to say it but had no idea how to.

I went in thinking he was just a flirt but he is a sweetheart underneath making it hard to get enough of him. The support you give him it seems to show that ya'll thrive so well together. I love he did everything he could to make sure he was by your side as much as he could even with his work schedule. He loves to spoil a woman he loves as well and although he would show her off in a heartbeat he also knows his job is hard and the women that make life harder would make it harder for you. He is caring, considerate and honestly the best boy yet. Also when he colors his hair dark damn this boy becomes smoking hot, and even his cute photo shoot pics and acting even when this boy is crying he makes you want to just hold him. He has such an amazing effect on not only the MC but you as you play it too.

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Kazuma Kamikubo

He is so cute when he gets flustered and yet he also knows how to be caring and sincere to you like worrying about how much sleep you have had or doing your makeup to make you feel better even though he already thinks your beautiful. He is the one who first comes out with a lie that comes back on you when he tells someone your his girlfriend because your in the wrong place at the wrong time snooping back stage. He covers your butt however he has to lie to do so. He always talks about being your big brother however it was too easy for him to snap out you were his girlfriend when he could have simply said something like sister. Then when things get complicated and everyone thinks your dating it doesn't take him long to say we should keep the lie going so things don't get to complicated at your work. He also is fast to flop down in your lap and pretend your his girlfriend. I felt like by this point in the story that he always thought of you as more than a friend but never thought he had a chance so he settled being your big brother while maybe his heart always pined for you.

He can sometimes be stubborn but he does have your best interest at heart. He will go the extra mile to make you smile and is caring of your feelings with the things he says. He honestly does connect on a deeper level I think than even others can because he has been there for so long in your life. He is like the cutest bean after he goes into pretending your his girlfriend this man puts on all breaks to the world. Granted he starts lacking at work but when you confront him since his boss comes to you about it he is so genuine. Like he goes into telling you he just wants to be on his phone looking up places he can take you as a couple. Also watching his texts to see if you need him or message him. When you ask why when he is at work and he says cause he is always thinking about you and how to make you happy. I kinda hate the MC for acting like his job is more important when this is something you don't see in many men and one of the things I love about this man. I mean yes I get the lacking at work but the conversation could have been handled differently he just wants to be a good boyfriend its sweet.

His first ideas of dating is to take you to hot springs and stargazing damn there is some deep romance in this man waiting to come out. He even goes into telling you one and only ex girlfriend didn't work out cause she said he was in love with someone else and you can guess who that person was. By this point I knew I was right from the beginning when I felt he just never thought he was good enough for you but always was in love with you. He even believes in paying for his woman on dates no half and half bullshit. He is the sweetest with wanting to do cute romantic tropes like him being early for the date and such damn he is so damn adorable. The first time you mention hanging out with any guy alone no matter the reason he asks you not and when he doesn't feel like your listening he snatches the phone and gets forceful with his voice and the word no. I'm not gonna lie he became hot as hell with the possessiveness and jealousy all together, damn boy just went from 7 on the scale of hot to a mere 15.

Even in his bad endings you get to find out that he can't see his life without you in it and doesn't want to either. Yes he is a bit competitive and selfish but I feel its from a good place because he is so afraid that he will lose you because you will leave him behind him and no longer need him. He admits he needs you in his life and that he is sorry he is weak and selfish. I find the fact he even knows when he might do things for the wrong reasons but in the end his heart is loyal and strong and would do anything for the woman he loves. The rest of the bad endings hurt me so I just don't want to go there again. However this boy right through to the end even when he loses his memory in a accident he still talks about being the man to make you happy. Like this is some loyal dedication and even in the bad endings when he didn't remember you he still wanted to marry you. The happy ending was my favorite though because he does your hair for bridal and practically tells you he is gonna marry you and he will do your hair then too. Such a sweetie he was my first in the game and I am so glad to because he was sweet, loyal, and wholesome in his own ways. He was the big brother/best friend/turned lover/boyfriend and he was sweet and caring about it. This is how a real big brother type should treat you (here's looking at you Toma from Amnesia sighs).

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Harumi Makino

You think when you first see him crying in a movie theater that he might actually be a decent guy but he rubs me wrong from the start. He is my least favorite guy and although I like tsunderes I just got more of him being withdrawn and not interested in women when I met him. As time goes on you find he is a rollercoaster like one minute you think he feels something then he shy's away and its really hard to keep up with him. His is a more hot and cold route and even though the last episode in the happy ending he was amazing it was getting to there. So between his route being boring at times and then his hot and cold made it hard to fully love him. I loved his nerdy cosplay side that shit is adorable to me. Not to mention he is hot in a nerdy way. When he does cosplay though he floored me he was so damn hot then.

It was cute later when he showed more flustering when he liked the mc. He isn't a horrible character in anyway just to me he was the one that was the hardest to get into. Once you get further in his route it does get better. Also when you see he has a naughty side omg this man can turn you on in seconds with his dominant possessive side. That was the side of him I found to be the most attractive. All in all I can't write as much about him however I do think I have seen much worse characters. Also I know he is supposed to be played 3rd but honestly nothing in his story really is that important that you really can't play any time.

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[kirazdaha]

HAHAHAHA Every Turk Family has one of those names and unironically mine does too 🫡 Tell your mother thank you she is a very lovely lady

I know all of the artists you listed below because my dad blasts them on the radio everytime we go out... I call it old people music but hey I never said it was bad, they're awesome and I might have memorised some of the artist's songs from how much I listen to them... Barış Manço is a classic without a doubt! Fun fact my parents were able to go to his concert and got a signed picture with him I will always envy how lucky they were 😭 I love how women in the industry made the most iconic songs I hear them often in weddings too! Or clubs, even though I only went to one once I'm not very fond of them...

My questions were do you have any tips or inspiration with how you draw! I love your art and artstyle and it's honestly what I've been trying to achieve for a while, I can't believe I'm learning how to draw men because of a silly lawyer show it's a disease...

(We are just having a conversation at this point) (I feel like those people who speak out loud in public) (I hope you and anyone who's reading this is having a good day :) be kind to yourself and others everyone)

OH MY GOD i envy them too😭😭 also omg that sounds like heaven to me. the other day i went out partying and i felt sooo out of place because i only knew like 3 songs. omg it was so so bad.

hmmm tips and inspiration…. my number 1 tip would definitely be to look at a lot of other artists you like and analyze what exactly you like. and then try to emulate that in your own work. i try to look for inspiration everywhere - artists online, traditional artists, old masters, 3d artists, even theatre and poetry, etc. - doesnt mean that i am equally inspired by them all (because all these things at once sound so scary and big but they really arent!) but rather, i try to be open for anything and that helps me find inspiration :) 

ill try to explain my thoughts more under the cut because this got long:

for me for example, so far i only posted some art i made that was lined (which, i would say makes up maybe half of the art i draw - i mostly sketch and recently have been building up the courage to paint more) and one of my inspirations is meltow. i think if you go over and check out their art youll definitely see it lol. but also i love the clean look some comics have and my friends tell me my art looks like it belongs in a comic which, i guess yeah :) when it comes to colors and composition i LOVE this artists works. i still have a lot to learn and just looking at their works inspires me so much!!!

i will say i have ALWAYS struggled with lineart. its probably the worst thing in the world to me because it never feels right!!! i like lining on paper with harsh inks and stiff ink nibs that allow for like. very little variety in line weight, but i havent done that in over 3 years (i hope i can get back to that). but yes, something about lineart makes me feel so icky when i use any brush that reacts to the pressure you put on your tablet LOL i just hate it. ugh. i havent been able to work it out.

it was only in 2020 i think that i decided to try it out with a thick brush with some texture and no pen pressure. that probably was the first time i got actual lineart that (at the time) i liked done. and then later on, discovering that other artists are able to achieve beautiful drawings with similar brushes AND that lining with a very simple brush can feel so satisfying helped me evolve a lot! until 2022, i actually wasnt able to give my art the kind of finished look that i wanted. so what people consider my style is really just born out of my limits and working with them. that obviously doesnt mean that i dont try to challenge myself as much as i can. i do and i think everyone should! thats what makes art so fun

if theres any good advice i can give to a beginner itd probaaaaably be. okay this is difficult and i feel like im not really qualified for this. as a hobbyist much less so because a lot of the knowledge and skills i acquired was through an intuitive process (i could never stick with habits such as regular studies or warmups or whatever is meant to be good for you) which definitely isnt the most “productive” way but i mean it doesnt have to be. its just a hobby! you dont have to perfect art. but yes, i would definitely say dont stop drawing. youll always be your harshest critic and at the beginning, and especially if you begin at an older age because youve been training your eye your whole life but your drawing skills for only a relatively short time you will notice a lot of mistakes. and youll think you wont achieve the image you have in your head. and maybe you wont (because youll always strive for more and youll never really be satisfied as an artist bla bla) for a while. but you have to keep drawing! try out different strategies, find out how other artists draw, watch speedpaints, try out different papers and pencils, try everything that makes it more fun and keep going! it will all pay off!! 

in my eyes theres also no point in saying “i should wait till im better to draw this idea i have” because if inspiration strikes you you should use that. even though i still sometimes catch myself thinking like that. you can always redraw things later on!! if theres anything that will keep you drawing you should use that! like getting into shows and games that make me want to draw helps a ton LOL people are not joking when they say getting obsessed with one character is the quickest way to improve. i 100% agree!!! if you saw my first nachos you wouldnt even recognize him. not kidding wow this got long. thank you for the questions though!! i hope some of my rambling can help you. feel free to talk to me whenever!

[bisluthq]

This whole story is reminding me of how I found a few months ago that one of my closest friends had a pattern of DV with his gfs, and it made me realize how much of a problem society's conception of abusers is because there is this notion that its visible to be abusive or a bad guy or a creep and "i could always tell there was something wrong" and theres never any grey zones and victims are always perfect and never fight back or handle it in any way that could be suspicious and the abusers dont also have pain or good sides and everything is black and white.

And like, in my case with my friend, the abuser was this super charismatic sweet guy who was really there for me when my mother got sick and painted himself as a feminist and called out guys for like, not going down on their gfs or whatever, and he had this super fucked up childhood which he still suffered a lot from and which i really empathised with, and it took SO long for me to realize how manipulative he could be and how he was refusing to take accountability for his actions and always justified it to himself and kept hurting people, and even if the good sides were probably still there and the pain was definitely there, it did not excuse any of the stuff he did or make him a good person.

And so, that's why I feel like Justins pov is so important, because that point of view is so important to help people but especially victims to understand abuse, and its so underrepresented in media which is super harmful. So it sucks that Blake and Ryan didn't want to show this point of view

Firstly, I'm sorry your friend turned out to be a worse person than you thought. That's a tough thing to have to realise. Secondly... yeah. I don't think, unless the person is like a complete and total sociopath AND a sadist to boot, they don't have their own justifications for their behaviours? Ryle, from what I've read/seen, has a sad backstory that's led to him having a bad temper and he hasn't like... dealt with that. He is very sorry every time he hurts Lily but he keeps hurting Lily anyway. Your friend, as you say, has a sad backstory that's allowed him to justify shitty to downright abusive behaviours. But both of them have (internal) justifications (that don't excuse them)?

I also think it's worth thinking about how specific relationships can lead to specific behaviours/reactions/etc. Just because someone is a good friend, or a good family member, or a good colleague/boss and all that doesn't mean they can't be abusive to their partner. And fwiw other way round too - someone can be abusive as a caregiver or as a boss or be a really shitty and selfish friend to the point of being essentially abusive and be awesome in other settings. Also just because they were/are good to YOU even in that same capacity, doesn't mean they can't be terrible to someone else. Like just because your ex wasn't abusive when you were together, it doesn't mean they're not abusing their current partner or didn’t abuse an ex.

So yeah, I mean these are HEAVY and COMPLEX topics. I think Colleen is a shitty writer but fwiw she did kinda in her own shitty way want to try explain and show how women often stay in situations even where they can and should leave. I think Justin, for reasons that still escape me, felt that he could use her source material as a springboard for discussions on toxic masculinity and how men are also victims of patriarchy and DV more broadly (beats tf out of me why he chose this source material but let's roll with it for now). I think Blake thought looking cute in florals would be fun. And I think Ryan was looking at how to make the most money possible and also dislikes Justin lol.

Mess, mess, mess but like... profound theme actually.

[chelleztjs18]

Hello you mrs. sandwich eater organizer lefty eyebag 😅

I am good today, doing laundry. How are you?

Yes, that's how I imagined Nat and Yelena too! I think that's why I don't read much Nat x R together because I see them more as just best friends, siblings or even roommates. But definitely like a devils advocate to R hahaha then with Yelena, same thing. Like best friends since birth, ride or die, can't get rid of.

Don't get me started on that sexual tension stuff that you write about R and Wanda hahaha I get all giddy and then angry because they're so stubborn! And you wrote the details so good, I think one time I got mad at you because you were toying with my emotions 🤣 all is forgiven though lol

So do you bring snacks on the plane?

Also, why of all places, did you guys choose to move to Oklahoma?

Correct, that's how I am. I'm glad that the people I was with before didn't complain about it. But at the same time, I wonder if they regret not getting much sex.

Nah, you made my eye roll, so now I can't see because of how far back it rolled ahahahaha okay, if you can guess what meal wins my heart instantly, then you win.

There was this studio that had brick walls. I was going for that kind of look, but someone took the space before me. I am the same way, I have a lot of paintings on my wall. It used to be a lot of dark paintings (my ex loves Halloween or spooky season) but since she took all that, I decided to hang the artworks I've done over the summer time.

When I build or buy my own house, I want to have a dark room to be able to do photography again. It's been my dream to have a small den where half of it is where I can paint, thne the other half is where I can develop photos.

That's a good idea, have the less used item on the bottom shelf. Cause in my place, it only comes with one cabinet for the pantry, its a tall cabinet too. Then the usual shelves for plates and cups. I hate that it's a small kitchen, but I like it at the same time lol

That's cute, a little signature 🤣 please tell me you can do a British impression?

Do you have a weakness?

-CuriousGeorge

hello you certain chip eater in a flatten sandwich righty eyebag! I'm back. sorry for the late answer. i hope u r still awake.

my day got a bit busy today. i did some laundry n fold some of them. :)

Ah i see. i like reading Natasha as the love interest..but Kate and Yelena, i dont really read them as love interest. plus i havent got the chance to read more. if i read more maybe i can change my mind about it.

hahaha to be honest, i actually laughed when i read ur comments here about the Ten Days and the sexual tensions. lol. which part in it that got u "angry"? hahaha. well, be prepare for that in the next chapters of Ten Days :D

Aaww really? i'm glad u enjoy it. it reallly made u feel giddy n then angry? thats good! that was kinda what i was trying to do :P for people have that emoitonal roller coaster but in a funny way n some jokes in it. i just love to put funny part in my fluff. :D

have u read my christmas fic with wanda n the maximoffs twin boys? "the best christmas" i think. haha. there is a joke n funny scene that i am low key proud of it. lol.

nah, not really. i mostly just get some water, iced tea or iced coffee when i fly.

we moved to Oklahoma because he got a job in a biggest weed farm in Oklahoma. :D

well, past is past. If they didn't complain about it, it means that it wasnt the main problem n it doesnt bother them. n don't feel bad about it. understanding in relationship is mutual. plus u told me that u dont mind with it to make them feel good n loved. So you've done ur best and didnt do anything wrong. :) i hope i make u feel a bit better? :D

hmmm whats ur favorite food or meals that wins ur heart. how about italian? something like pasta? did i guess it right? hahaha

dark paintings? something like what? like scary pictures? ouh i love how brick walls look like. that would be nice if u can get the brick studio. sometimes i imagine how it feels if i live in a penthouse a brick and minimalist rustic vibe or theme. industrial theme is nice too.

dark room? isnt it for printing photos in an old way? photographers nowadays still do that?

if i build my own house i want one movie theater room with a very good quality surround sound with cozy couch and full bar. hahaha. so i can enjoy movies and listening to music or watch concerts videos with good quality sound. n i want a nice large kitchen complete with anything u can think of to help u cook with a nice huge walk in pantry. hahaha.

yeah, i understand what u meant with ur cabinet n pantry size. but so far right now it's only u, so it wouldnt be needed to stock bunch of stuff :)

haha yeah my signature. n no i cant do brits impression. i wish i could speak in british accent though.

weakness? i'm a little confuse with what u meant. if i answer praises n compliments, are they what u meant?my other answer probably soft touches, because it's my love language.

or did u mean weakness as in my negative traits (which is sound like a job interview) lol

next questions?

Cheerio!

[krizs-main]

alternate universe where deltarune chapter 2 released a few years earlier and instead of sans we get

[celeste-clearwater-06]

hello. it is i. so! i was wondering if you could do a little ditty abt nail polish with the company and/or the fellowship? basically like modern girl in middle earth type stuff, and she realizes that she has nail polish on her which is something they totally don't have in middle earth. basically headcanons abt like how they would react to painted nails and which one of these mfs would let me paint their nails. cuz like - they dont know its just a "fem" thing here so no toxic masculinity. ty <3

OMFG I'M SO HYPED FOR THIS! I just picked a few random Tolkien characters that seem to have a lot of attention, so I hope you like this!!

Nail Polish (LOTR/THE HOBBIT X READER)

Frodo~

I feel like Frodo would be very skeptical at first

Because, come on, a girl falling into Middle Earth out of nowhere??

However, his interest is certainly peaked, seeing you twist the brush away from it's blue colored bottle as you smile down at it

"What's that, you've got there?"

"Oh, just some nail polish!"

He watches with curiosity as you perfectly decorate your nails with the periwinkle color

"How interesting..."

He may not want to have his nails painted at first, but has this deep fascination with how perfectly you can paint them without screwing up

Soon, he forgets all about the ring as you paint your nails, sitting cross-legged and starting with those huge blue eyes with interest

If he allows you to paint his nails, he would smile the whole time

I mean HIS TINY HANDS?!?!

What a bean 🥺

Tries his best not to chip the color when he leaves for Mordor with Sam

Gollum is actually really interested with his nails

"whAT IS IT prECI0us?!?1!1?"

But Frodo will swat his hands away, because "it's a gift from someone important."

The one thing that keeps him smiling along the way 😊

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Legolas

Elf prince is so interested!!

He thinks the spring green color looks so pretty in the bottle

He's obviously not used to most thing from your world

Asks politely;

"How do you use this?"

"...can I show you?"

So whenever the Fellowship stops for the night, he watches with amusement as your brows furrow and you stick your tongue out in concentration

Legolas sits very still, so it's easy for you to paint his nails

How does he keep them so clean?!

He's low-key obsessed with how satisfying it is...

wAIT...

Now HE wants to paint YOUR nails?

THE PRECISION...

He's so good at it!

Legolas is so patient and calm

He says it reminded him of making flower crowns I guess?

And he doesn't even mess up once 😳

THE MASTER NEEDS TEACHING, DAYUM-

He gets so happy with how the color matches him!

Forgets that you have to let it dry at first, so it gets a bit smudged when he draws his bow

Upset Legolas :(

But you fix it for him, and he's happy again!

CAN

NOT

STOP

LOOKING

He's amazed!!

And so proud!

Pretty Elf 🥰✨

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Pippin

Pippin is very confused, to say the least

He though it would be something relatively close to a nail filer

But once he sees the pastel yellow color, on your own fingers, he has to have some!!

WILL

NOT

SIT

STILL

While you're trying to paint his hands and feet (by request), he's telling you great tales of the shire, a throwing his limbs around to exaggerate his story

You've to clonked him on the head and scolded him quite a few times

For some reason, he's saying it tickles??

"It does! The brush is like feather!"

Painting his toes it a lot easier, seeing he can't really feel much on his feet

The color goes perfect with his green eyes 🥴

Also, let's not forget that Pip is the definition of "disaster-on-legs"

After the polish dries, it immediately chips, since he's busy causing trouble with merry or practicing his hand with Boromir

He really wants to paint your nails, and you let him do so...

Poor hobbit has zero clue with how this shit works 🤦‍♀️

He feels so bad about getting it all over your fingers, but you assure him it'll be fine and that it will eventually wash off in a few days

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Boromir

HE WANTS TO USE IT RIGHT AWAY-

Pink, as cliche as it sounds, suits him so well

He's just amazed!

Also, really likes the smell 🤔🤔

Is grinning like an idiot while you're painting his nails

"Such talent and patience you have!"

"Pfft, it's really nothing. Takes a bit of practice is all."

Afterward, is flashing his bright pink nails at everyone

"Look at Y/N's spectacular skill of hand!"

I think Boromir would have a habit of picking at the polish after it dries

But that's okay, he doesn't mind too much

It gives him more time to spend with you while you repaint them!!

He's afraid he'll screw up your nails if he tries to paint them, so he never offers

That's alright though, since you know he only means well 😊

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Thorin

Oh he's so regal

You were in Rivendell, digging through your purse, and suddenly

Tada!!

A deep navy blue bottle, probably about half empty was revealed

He was curious, but tried not to let it show, since that would damage his royal ego 🙄

"What is that?"

"Oh, just some nail polish. Wanna try some?"

Thorin would insist that you show him how it works first

And so, you did

He definitely admires the color

But defied any suggestion of you painting his own nails

That would be "un-kingly" 😤

Okay so maybe he lets you paint his pinky finger when nobody is around

But he smiles (a rare sight) while watching you paint your nails

And does give a somewhat compliment at your articulate handwork

"It looks exceptional as artwork."

"Erm... Thanks?"

He definitely thinks the color matches you beautiful skin tone 😌

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Kili ~

Prince Dumbass LOVES red

It reminds him of Tauriel 🥰

One night, you left your bag opened on the ground as you went off to get some food from Bombur, and Kili couldn't help but notice the glittering ruby bottle inside

He grabbed it, being the nosy prince he was, and examined its glow in the firelight

"What kind of jewel is this?"

"Oh hey, my nail polish!!"

Very confused

"Why does it smell so strange?"

Thankfully, being a dwarf, his fingernails are a bit bigger, so there's more room and it's easier to paint

He, like Pippin, has issues with sitting still and gets you really annoyed

"I swear to all things fluffy, if you don't sit still I will cut off all of that hair in your sleep-"

"😳"

He immediately smudges them, and then you have to paint them AGAIN

Once they FINALLY dry, he won't let anyone touch them

"Stop it, Fili! You'll damage them!"

He can't stop touching them, since it's so smooth!

The others tease him, but he doesn't mind, as long as they stay nice and clean

Turns into a whiny toddler the MINUTE they chip

"Y/nnn! I need you to repaint them!"

"I just painted them yESTERDAY-"

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Fili

A mix of Thorin and Kili when it comes down to it

Definitely prefers gold 😌✨

Sees you painting your nails one night in the library in Erebor

"What have you got there sagh (friend)?"

"Just some nail polish. Wanna try some?"

Once again, he wants to see what it does like Thorin

And you of course happily oblige

Admires the color greatly

He says it reminds him of the gold floors in his kingdom, and it makes you chuckle

Fili loves to have his nails painted, and especially with such a regal hue 💅😌

DAMN does it bring out those baby blues 🥴

After that, you stare at his hands a lot, proceeded by his flirtatious teasing

Shows up Kili's sparkly red polish with his "more extravagant" color

He is also very protective of his nails and tries his very best to keep them from chipping

You love watching him hold his weapons and spar with his pretty nails 😳

Even with his larger hands, made for forging and wielding huge swords and axes and smelting, he had an incredibly steady and gentle hand when it comes to this subject, so he's AMAZING at painting his and your nails

Fili insists that you have matching nails all the time, and it's a regular thing for you to hang out and talk about your day while you paint each others nails 🥺

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Thranduil

Have you MET this man?!

KING OF DIVAS 💅💅

At first, he's very weirded out

"What do you have in your hand, mellon (friend)?"

"Oh, just some nail polish."

"Interesting..."

Thranduil watches intently over your shoulder as you carefully decorate your nails with a glossy black polish, sitting directly next to his throne

"Do you want me to paint your nails?"

"Hm?"

He reluctantly agrees, placing his BEAUTIFUL hand in yours and stares down at your gentle talented work

He loves the color more than he cares to admit, and much like his son sits very still as you lead the brush over his clean nails

The elf king loves seeing your tongue stick out in concentration

You remind him that it'll need time to dry out

And as he says in his notoriously sassy voice;

"I thousand years is a mere blink in the life of an elf... I'm patient... I can wait."

Ofc, you just scoff at this and tell him it'll only take about five to ten minutes

He just nods and stares back down at them with admiration

Thranduil doesn't do much around his kingdom, except maybe get a bit drunk and direct orders to his guards, so it's no worry about him chipping or ruining his nails

I hope you liked this, just as much as I enjoyed writing it!! Have a lovely day, and don't forget that requests are open as always!! ❤❤😊

[actualbird]

UR HANDWRITING IS SO GOOD!! It definitely gives me kiki vibes. Ur little dooble of peanut(? I think idk it might just be a random bird) and urself is super cute! Im now thinking about each nxx boy’s artstyle… -✨ anon

hi Sparkle!!! haha thank u, im glad u think my doodles (and yea that was me attempting to draw peanut borb kjkjBJKSF) r cute!!! and NOW IM THINKING ABOUT NXX BOYS' ARTSTYLES NOW TOO AND WHEN I GET THINKING I MUST....EXPAND

nxx boys' artstyles (aka all the boys draw a dog)

wc: 624

marius: his art is beautiful ugh

okay so marius we can get out of the way fuckin immediately. hes an artist and painter and studied in florence, this dude DEFFO draws so good and skillfully.

canon hasnt really told us (yet) details as to what his Exact Style is but his painting alterego Z has been described as an impressionist painter who has an exquisite sense of color and mood. ive seen a tiny smidge of marius' anniversary card where hes sketching and he does seem to go for a quite realistic style.

so i think if he were to sketch a dog, he'd go for something like this. realistic with the impressionism's focus on light and shadows (source)

vyn: you can easily tell it's a dog

i had a hard time with bc thus far i havent seen any mention of him doing visual arts yet (i have not yet played his card stories, IM SORRY VYN, I KNOW, IVE BEEN NEGLECTING U). but based on his vibes, i think he'd be pretty good!! like it's not gonna win him awards but he can easily pick out the most important features of what hes drawing

him drawing a dog would look like this. simple but easily recognizeable (source)

artem: HAHAHAHAHA

artem is where things start getting hilarious. several stories have mentioned him being VERY BAD AT ALL KINDS OF ART. buuuut in SR Fixated On You he facepaints a really cute pumpkin on mc's face!!! mc herself says it's adorable!!! what on earth happened here, i thought you were shit at art, artie?

well [spoilers for that card] at the end of the story it is revealed that he practiced drawing that pumpkin OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN. he had a STACK OF SKETCHES and with each sketch he had noted down his improvements and he used references and i genuinely want to fucking cry, artem is so earnest and he wants to do things right but //holds his face gently. JUST DRAW A SHITTY PUMPKIN, IT'S OKAY, EVERYBODY WILL LOVE IT!!!!

but yeah, if artem had to draw a dog he'd ask for a reference image before starting.

and his first try would look like this (source) (you can hear celestine's laughter all the way from nosta) (i mean it still looks like a dog!!!!)

luke: it's a four legged mammal?? of some kind???

i dont have SR How I Remember You (and im in pain about it) but my friend was kind enough to stream the story for me and my girlfriend!! in that card story [spoilers for that card] luke and mc play pictionary and mc says that "Luke isn't very good at drawing. A classmate had once mistaken a horse he drew for a pig in art class..."

which. luke pearce how did u fuck up THAT BADLY??? LMAO??? it's very cute tho bc mc says that since she's seen so many of luke's doodles (he always draws on the holiday cards he sends her, i am going to burst into TEARS) she can easily tell what hes drawing.

but for non-mc people. uh. well. if luke fucked up a horse to be a pig, i can assume that at the very least, he gets the number of limbs correct. and everything else just gets so vague that it could be anything that shares the general shape of what hes drawing

so heres luke's drawing of a "dog" (source: my hand)

during nxx investigation team pictionary

marius: it's a cat

vyn: yes, it is definitely a cat

artem: it's a cat that's...wagging its tail?

luke: GUYS CMON. IT'S A DOG...

mc: a german shepherd, right?

luke: YEAH, EXACTLY!!!

marius, vyn, and artem internally: how...did she FIGURE THAT OUT???

[nikethestatue]

La Dolce Vita

Summary: Elain Archeron and Azriel - in love, in lust, in Italy

Modern AU *slight TOG crossover. If you read my stuff, you know it’s LONG

Warnings: bad language and THIS IS NSFW (not kidding, this is a story, not just sex, but there is a LOT of explicit material here. You can still read the story, but if you are sensitive or underage, skip the naughty bits)

Comments are always appreciated/wanted/needed. Anon or not, just do it! Obviously, reblogs are appreciated. 

Part I (Flowers)

 La Vie En Rose

De l'homme auquel j'appartiens (Of the man to whom I belong)  Quand il me prend dans ses bras Il me parle l'a tout bas (He speaks to me softly) Je vois la vie en rose (And I see life in pink) Il me dit des mots d'amour (He speaks words of love to me) Des mots de tous les jours (They are every day words) Et ça m' fait quelque chose (And they do something to me) Il est entré dans mon coeur (He has entered into my heart) Une part de bonheur (A bit of happiness) Dont je connais la cause (That I know the cause of) C'est lui pour moi (It's only him for me) Moi pour lui dans la vie (And me for him, for life)

Now

Riding in a Ferrari, being enveloped in its supple, buttery leather, gulping in the cypress and cedar-scented air of Tuscany was everything that Elain Archeron had ever wanted. She never knew that this is what she wanted, because riding in very fast, very expensive, sleek Italian cars wasn’t on her ‘fantasy radar’, but now that she was in one, she suddenly came to the realization that this was perhaps one of the best experiences of her life.

The whole thing, so far, has been the best experience of her life.

Well…maybe not the best-best.

Her happiness was deeply intertwined with and caused by the man in the driver seat of the said Ferrari—Azriel. Azriel Archeron, as he loved calling himself. Even if this wasn’t his last name, he preferred using it over his family name, for a variety of personal reasons. There was nothing better, more sublime, more beautiful and more loving than Azriel. The perfect male specimen, if she could say so herself. No one would argue with her assessment either.

Elain

 They were introduced by her sister’s then-boyfriend Cass, who was giving her a lift one afternoon, and then suggested that they stop by Azriel’s car atelier, because he needed to pick something up.

Elain’s heard of the mysterious Azriel from her sisters, both of whom had claimed that he was the most handsome man that either one of them had ever seen. Elain chuckled at the exuberant praise, doubting its truthfulness. There was no such thing as the ‘most handsome’ man. Beauty was in the eyes of the beholder.

She wasn’t sure what a car atelier was, and when Cassian pulled up to a modern-looking building, she said that she’d stay in the car and wait.

“Come on, petal, don’t be shy,” Cassian urged her, holding the car door open for her in a way that indicated that she’d have to get out and follow him.

They entered the foyer, a vast space with racing stripes painted on the polished cement floor, and a sea of model cars dropping from the ceiling. Behind a wall of glass, Elain spied a row of gorgeous cars, none of which were familiar to her. Some unique European models, fit for James Bond’s consumption. There were also neat antique cars, probably from the 50s. She immediately had visions of Grace Kelly and Cary Grant riding in one of these along the Riviera coast.

“What’s this place?” she inquired, looking around at the mid-century modern building that resembled a spaceship.

“This is Az’s baby,” Cass explained vaguely. “Conceived, conceptualized, restored, outfitted—all by the brilliant mind of one Azriel Bagarat.”

“Are you bragging?”

A deep, sensual voice, that could only be called ‘midnight’ sounded behind them, and Cassian’s handsome, tanned face broke in a mischievous smile. “Only about you, brother!”

When Elain turned around, her breath was knocked out from her lungs.

She didn’t know that it was possible, to be actually stunned by someone’s beauty, but there she stood, gaping, feeling the world slow and move in a different manner for a few moments.

Standing at a towering 6”4 or so, the man was at least as tall as Cassian, and Cassian was the tallest man Elain’d ever met. She was just as muscular, but not as bulky. Clad in all black, from expensive, well-tailored Diesel jeans, to a soft t-shirt that stretched over his sharply cut torso, emphasizing the thick muscles of his arms and shoulders, and the narrow waist, true to her sisters’ word, this Azriel was simply exquisite.

Cassian draped his heavy arm around her shoulders and nudged her forward, just a bit, and said,

“Petal, say hello! This is my brother, Azriel. Az, this is my soon-to-be-sister-in-law, the one and only Elain Archeron.”

At the words ‘sister-in-law’ Elain whipped her head to Cassian, who grinned maniacally at her, nodding and answering her silent question.

“When? What are you talking about?” she exclaimed, Azriel momentarily forgotten. “What do you mean? You’ve only been seeing each other for like three months?!?”

“Baby girl, I don’t need three years to decide…Nes is Nes and she is the one for me.”

He shrugged with his usual ease, acting like they were discussing the weather or a good burger that he just ate.

“If Nes hears even a whiff of this, I will know it’s you, petal, and well, I am not sure what I will do,” he decided upon reflection, but then pleaded, “please, don’t tell her. This one,” he nodded towards Azriel, who was standing still, green eyes peeled to Elain, “I can trust. He hardly ever talks,”

“That’s because you talk for all of us,” noted Azriel with a smirk.

Elain chuckled, and turned back to face him.

He extended his hand to her, with an odd, tentative movement, and when she looked down, she saw old, mottled scars that covered his palm and part of his wrist and forearm. A vintage Patek Phillipe on his wrist.

“Beautiful,” she murmured, and he gave her a surprised look, unsure of what she was referring to.

“It’s always a pleasure to meet another Archeron sister,” he said with a soft smile, which made Elain lose her ability to speak for a good few moments, because she was finally able to take in that face that defied description. The sharp cheekbones and the mesmerizing amber and emerald eyes, almond-shaped and slanted hinted at a varied heritage, and unfairly, the man also possessed a perfect nose, and a full, sensuous mouth. He was the very definition of tall, dark, and handsome, with skin of burnished bronze, which was so in contrast to his bright eyes and raven-black hair, cut in a fashionable undercut. The physique, as she already noted, quickly skimming over the body, matched the face.

“Yes, me too,” she said stupidly.

Graceful, like a courtier, he offered her his arm and said,

“Would you like me to show you around?”

She didn’t want to be impolite, though she suddenly felt sweaty and nervous, and completely out of her league. But she threaded her hand through his arm and lightly squeezed the firm, alarmingly thick bicep.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

She wasn’t sure what she was thinking him for, so she added, “yes, I’d love to see it.”

“Why haven’t we met?” he inquired, those green eyes watching her with such intensity that she felt almost undressed, bared under the gaze. It wasn’t unpleasant, because it wasn’t lascivious, and he didn’t strike her as someone who’d be disrespectful to women.

“I’ve been busy for the past half a year,” she explained.

“Doing what?”

They walked down the wide passage, past all the cars, which Azriel pointed out with a wave of his scarred hand, and dropped names like Pagani, BMW I8, Bugatti Divo, Bugatti Centodieci, Lamborghini Veneto, Koenigsegg CCXR Trevita and so forth. Elain might not have known a ton about cars, but she was not so unaware not to know that a Bugatti and a Lambo were expensive cars.

Cassian fell behind, gawking at the display.

“I was opening my own business,” Elain said, her head thrown back, looking at an entire toy racetrack mounted to the ceiling, with cars zooming by, and somehow, not falling on patrons’ heads.

“What sort of business?”

“Flowers,” she said absently, once they reached another space—a two story-restaurant, bar, and a patio outside as well.

“Flowers?”

“Oh, a flower shop,” she explained at last. Then muttered, awed, “this is really incredible!”

“A car enthusiast?” he smirked.

She didn’t know how it happened, but somehow, her hand migrated from the crook of his arm to his hand, and now, they walked along the walls lined with Ferrari posters, memorabilia and expensive everything. Walking and holding hands.

“I wouldn’t call myself one,” she admitted, “but I find cars aesthetically pleasing…Never got to ride in anything fancier than a Mercedes or a Lexus,”

“Well, we should remedy that at once!” he decided easily and then said, “pick you up on Friday at seven?”

That sobered her up a bit and she turned to face him. They stopped at the long, chrome-lined bar, and he said, “An espresso?”

“Um,”

But before she could respond, he was behind the counter, playing with a very fancy coffee machine that required a PhD to operate with all the levers and hooks and buttons, and in a few minutes, he poured her a tiny cup of coffee, thick with natural foam, and heady with its enticing scent.

He chugged his own in one go and she followed him, gulping her espresso in two sips. It was better than anything she’d ever drunk in her life.

“Like a date?” she finally asked, truly confused by the offer.

“Would you like it to be a date?” he leaned on the bar, biceps flexing, his arms covered in tattoo sleeves that reached all the way to his fingers. They were quite beautiful, the tattoos, the placement and the design, and Elain recognized the style, since Cassian and Rhysand wore the same kinds of tattoos, if not so extensive.

“Did you draw these?” she asked bluntly, touching her finger to a thick snaking black line, which was shaded with cobalt.

He looked down, at her hand and his arm and nodded, following her finger with his eyes.

“I did. For the three of us. When we made Navy Seals,”

“You are a Seal, too?” she exclaimed.

He smiled and nodded, “Well, we all grew up in foster care—not all, Cass and I,”

“I heard,”

“Until Rhys’s parents adopted us. But we weren’t the…best of boys,” he chortled, “so to get our heads straight, we were sent to the Navy after school. We figured we’d only stay a bit, but we stayed for a while.”

“So, you are retired?”

“We are vets,”

“How old are you?” she blurted. Then blushed and said, “I am sorry. I am usually not so impolite,”

He laughed, “I figured. But that’s alright. I’ll tell you on Friday, though. If you don’t mind?”

“I mean, I don’t mind,” she murmured, her eyes dropping to her espresso cup, “but,”

“How about this—I take you on a drive in one of these fancy cars—and then you can brag to everyone that you’d driven in a,”

He paused and rubbed his chin,

“Any preference?”

“For what?”

“What car you’d like to go in?”

“I don’t know,”

“Throw something at me,” he urged, eyes glinting with feral delight.

Elain, blush deepening, finally said, “Do you have a Ferrari? I’ve always wanted to drive in a Ferrari.”

“Ahhh, a Ferrarista at heart!” he nodded with approval, folding his arms on his chest, “stick with the classic and the best. And yes, gorgeous, I do have a Ferrari or two.”

Gorgeous.

Azriel

The girl who’d arrived with Cassian, was not Nesta, but there was something vaguely familiar about her. The girl who’d arrived with Cassian was the most gorgeous creature that Azriel had ever seen. Gorgeous and completely unaware.

Women like her, if they were smart and cunning and ambitious, used their beauty for all things good and terrible. But this exquisite creature that Cassian was so blatantly hugging and teasing wasn’t one of those women. Azriel was all too familiar with the types—the maneaters, who hounded him like sharks. He was wealthy, and good-looking, and a decent person, if not exactly a saint. He hobnobbed with celebrities who came to order his cars, which he designed and outfitted based on their specifications and desires.

He was finnicky when it came to taste though. No matter how much rappers asked him to clad their Maybach in gold or some vapid Gucci print, no matter how many heiresses pouted and asked for a bubblegum or Barbie-pink Ferraris, he did not betray the essence and soul of the vehicle. Modify, define, sharpen, stylize—he did it all with precision and skill which was unparalleled. But Azriel Bagarat was known for rejecting even the juiciest of offers, if the request did not coincide with his aesthetic or the history of the car.

He was at his shop—that’s what he called it, though atelier sounded infinitely better and more expensive—that afternoon, knowing that Cassian was going to drop by and select a car for his grandiose proposal to Nesta. There was some concern that Cassian would not fit his 6”5 form into an Aston Martin or a Bentley, so they needed to make sure that the car was appropriate for the occasion and the occupant. Cass insisted on a British vehicle, feeling that Nesta would like something classic and timeless. So be it.

What Azriel did not expect to see that Tuesday afternoon was a girl--because he hesitated to call her a ‘woman’, since she looked so lovely and perfect and innocent--who took his breath away.

His breath had been taken away only once before, by Rhys’s cousin, who strolled like a ray of sunshine into their broken lives.

However, Morrigan chose Cassian. And then Cassian promptly impregnated her, causing a great discontent and strife between everyone. Morrigan, or rather Morgana d’Adda, though she anglicized her name, even if Morrigan d’Adda sounded funny, was just about disavowed by her family for tumbling, and being so stupid and blind as to get knocked up by a hulking nobody mulatto, as her father Keir called Cassian. Rather, sneered, at Cassian.

Even if Azriel didn’t impregnate anybody, he somehow got looped into the family bullshit and once he and Cassian turned 18, they were both shipped off to the navy. To the dismay of the entire Darling clan, Rhys followed them, tossing away his guaranteed admittance to Brown. An Ivy League school for rich stupid heirs. Only Rhys wasn’t stupid. Neither was Cassian a hulking nobody mulatto. And Azriel wasn’t just the ‘fucking weird kid, who might be a serial killer’. They served and they passed the insane Navy Seal training, and they proved themselves.

Nowadays, Cassian now ran security for the Darling conglomerate, while Rhys took over the reins when his father was killed in a car accident. Azriel found his own path, though the association with the Darling name certainly helped his exposure and in building relationships and meeting all the right people. And meeting all the women. The three brothers had gone through their share of wild times, but in the past 3 years, things began to calm down for them.

It began with Rhys meeting Feyre Archeron at an art gallery, where she was exhibiting some of her pieces. Azriel had tugged along with Rhys to see the exhibit, because Rhys was looking for some art for his new office, and he trusted Azriel’s taste and knowledge, and wanted a second pair of eyes.

Rhys followed Feyre like a dog throughout the evening—Azriel was there to witness the pathetic display—and then they ended up at a bar, doing shots and feeding Feyre virgin Cosmos, since she wasn’t even 21 yet. They went to some dance club, Azriel playing the third-wheel and ‘chaperone’, though by the end of the night, Rhys and Feyre disappeared together and weren’t heard from for the next three days.

… “What if he killed her?” proposed Cassian for 100th time, pacing back and forth, running his fingers through his long black hair. “Or what if she killed him?”

“I thought that I was the serial killer among the three of us,” drawled Azriel, sprawled on a sofa, watching a game. He wasn’t as concerned, having seen Rhys dripping with intense lust at the sight of the brown-haired teen. It was unusual, since at that time Rhys was almost 25, and Feyre only 19, and the three of them typically tried to avoid teenagers like the plague. But Rhysand Darling seemed genuinely enthralled.

“No, you are the guy with the sex dungeon,” corrected Cassian.

Azriel rolled his eyes, “serial killer with a sex dungeon, huh? Sounds like an interesting story. Alas, much as I’d like to, I don’t have a sex dungeon.”

“Aren’t you building one? In that new garage of yours?” Cassian shrugged.

“Only cars. No sex toys,” sighed Azriel, looking like that might have been an omission on his part.

“Gents, I think I am in love!” the door burst open and a wild-eyed Rhys appeared, his normally pristine hair in disarray, his cheeks flushed, wearing only a white t-shirt and jeans.

“Where the fuck were you for three days?” growled Cassian, showing considerable relief at the sight of his brother.

“Falling in love,” crooned Rhys, falling into a chair, a stupid, dazed look on his face.

“You look like Audrey Hepburn in ‘Sabrina’,” noted Azriel.

“I feel like Audrey Hepburn!” exclaimed Rhys. “She is perfect. Feyre is perfect.”

What the fuck? Mouthed Cassian in confusion.

“Feyre Darling,” whispered Rhys with delight, eyes closed, tasting the sound of the name on his tongue. “Feyre Archeron Darling. Or Feyre Darling Archeron?”

“You alright there, buddy?” Cassian frowned. “A little early to be talking last names?”

“She’ll be my wife,” announced Rhysand with his usually unwavering confidence.

And that was that.

Now, the ‘society wedding of the year’ was coming up in three months. Rhysand Darling and Feyre Archeron, the toast of the town, the power couple, the young and beautiful billionaires.

 Now, Azriel stood in front of the most stunning female he’d ever seen and for once, he felt like Rhys. His brain turned into a soupy mess, and he found himself tongue-tied and concentrating was suddenly difficult. He wanted to be a gracious host and a confident, formidable man, who had a reputation to uphold—though he wasn’t sure if Elain was aware of his reputation—but inside, he was a mess. All his insecurities, doubts and self-hate rose to the surface at once, and he hesitated to extend his hand in greeting to her. His mangled, horrible, revolting hand, which was sullied beyond its extensive scars. A hand that killed, and touched way too women, some of whom he probably shouldn’t have been touching at all.

“Beautiful,” she murmured softly, that gorgeous blush spreading over her rose-petal cheeks.

He was so taken aback by the comment, he was nearly flabbergasted when she didn’t pull away, didn’t frown or grimace in disgust, didn’t display any of the usual signs of revulsion that most women did when they saw his hands. Perhaps it was the Patek Phillipe, he tried to convince himself, but deep down he knew—she called his scars ‘beautiful’.

And then she took his arm, her hand strong, surprisingly calloused, if light, and small.

And from that moment on, Azriel became obsessed with that touch.

His body heated and as he led her to the bar, and showed her around his pride and joy, watching for the subtle reactions, for the gleam of wonder and appreciation in her eyes, he couldn’t release…wouldn’t release her hand from his. She asked questions, took in all the memorabilia and gawked at the cars, and then the guest area, and finally, when he sat her down at the bar and made her a coffee, he stepped closer. Trying not to scare her, or seem obnoxious, he couldn’t help invading her personal space, and stood next to her, pretending to take interest in his drink, while hoping that her arm would brush against his own. Skin to skin.

She didn’t pull away. Didn’t shy away.

He didn’t expect himself to ask her on what amounted to a date, because he wasn’t even sure how dates worked. His usual ammo consisted of a brief introduction, an even quicker seduction and then a hook up. That’s how he liked it. He preferred no-strings-attached approach to his involvement with women, and it’s been working rather well for him. He never had to sleep with anyone in the same bed, he never had to make anyone breakfast, there was no room for idle chitchat, and usually no second or third dates. It was so easy.

This fucking girl, with her caramel-brown eyes, her golden-amber curls, her soft lips and that damn blush on her cheeks—she was driving him veritably insane with her unique mix of immaculate beauty and a friendly, almost naïve, strangely innocent disposition. And he wanted to go on a date with her. Without an ulterior motive, because at it stood right now, he didn’t care to even get her in bed. That would come later. He was absolutely determined to have this happen later. But…later.

Cassian

“Alrighty, I think I am going with the Bentley,” Cassian sidled to the bar, and interrupted.

If Azriel was annoyed, he didn’t show it.

Cassian spied them at last, making his way through the cavernous entrails of the garage, with all its gleaming cars, the beautiful patrons who were discussing options with no-less beautiful sales people,  and even on-premises tattoo shop, which specialized in Azriel’s sketches and catered to those who didn’t have money to actually outfit their Bugatti to their heart’s desire, but could at least claim that they got a Bagarat tattoo inked on their skin.

Elain and Azriel were standing side by side, somehow melding together nicely, her pretty dress and high-heeled sandals and piles of loose hair in drastic contrast with Azriel’s all-black ensemble, his massive height and the span of his shoulders. But she did not balk from him. Cassian also noticed that she didn’t react to the scars, which Azriel was very self-conscious about, and seemed genuinely interested in the garage.

It was inevitable that the two would eventually meet, especially with the wedding coming up and all the wedding related brouhaha. However, Cassian wanted to have the dibs on gloating down the line, and reminding the two of them, forever, about how it was he who introduced them. Yes, Azriel fucked a lot of models and rich girls, for whom he, strangely, was a riff on a ‘bit of rough’, while being hardly ‘rough’ at all. Azriel was elegant and possessed excellent taste in everything, and he probably had the best manners out of the lot of them. But the tattoos, the cars, the aura of brooding mystery about him, and his generally quiet ways were like honey to the throngs of women who lusted after him.  

About Azriel, Cassian had no doubts.

Cassian knew Azriel probably better than anyone alive, and even that wasn’t saying much, but he was very aware of Azriel’s ‘secret type’ of woman. Basically, it was Elain. Everything about Elain Azriel would like—of that Cassian was certain. Elain was the elusive ‘ideal woman’ of whom Azriel dreamt, but never actually pursued. Slightly unconventional, soft, kind, generous—lovely, would be a good word—Elain was everything that Azriel never had with any other women.

Cassian could already see the hunger and flicker of completely besotted adoration in Azriel’s normally cold eyes.

He was less certain about Elain, having never seen her with a boyfriend. When he had asked Nesta about Elain’s situation, Nesta shrugged and said that Elain was beautiful, but naïve, dreamy and rarely dated.

“A Bentley it is then,” Azriel turned around, though his elbow still touched Elain’s arm. “You’ll fit, big boy?”

Elain giggled.

“I am not Rowan,” Cassian muttered. “I am human sized.”

“Only just.”

“You are the same height,” Cassian reminded him coolly.

“I am a little more human-shaped too.”

Cassian rolled his eyes and said, “Come on, petal. While I love to stand here and listen to his insults, we gotta go.”

Elain’s face dropped into a sad frown only for a second, but she recovered immediately. Cassian noticed it, nevertheless. His petal of a girl didn’t want to leave his brother’s side.

“Bye Azriel,” she said, taking his hand in hers again, of her own volition, and squeezing it lightly. “It was very nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he said. His fingers wrapped over her palm, and he said, “I’ll walk you two out.”

So, his brooding brother didn’t want to release the newfound petal of a girl.

How interesting.

Once they were in Cassian’s Jeep, Elain looked out the window, a dreamy look on her face.

“Oh-oh,” Cassian chuckled, as he navigated the narrow NYC streets.

“What?”

“I know that look,” he winked.

“What look?” she frowned.

“The ‘oh gods, Azriel is so handsome!’ look. Oh, he is so gorgeous look. Oh, he is so sexy look.”

“He is handsome,” she agreed blandly, knowing that arguing would be silly.

“I hope that you gave him your number,” he said. “Because if you didn’t, I will.”

“It’s none of your business,” she crossed her arms on her chest, and Cass howled loudly.

“You are welcome, by the way,”

“You are ridiculous,” she muttered. “I don’t know how Nesta tolerates you!”

“Oh, Nes tolerates me and then some,” and winked again.

Now

“My love, slow down a bit,” Elain requested, as the road zigzagged among rows of cypresses.

“I thought that you wanted to make it to Florence before traffic hit?” Azriel squeezed her fingers and brought her hand to his lips.

“Seeing that we are already running late, we might as well enjoy the drive,” she shrugged.

A honey-coloured strand of her hair fell out from under the gauzy wrap that she wore around her head a-la Grace Kelley.

“Good.”

“Good what?” she turned her face to him and knocked him out all over again. By the Mother she was superb in every way, and she was his. He couldn’t believe his absurd luck. Things like these didn’t happen to him. Elain was not meant to be his. Yet, here she was, his lovely gentle girl, who loved him with incomprehensible passion and devotion. His.

The hefty, borderline outlandish ring on her finger was proof of that.

He’d worked hard on that ring, designing it himself, wanting to incorporate everything that he loved about her and about the two of them into the design. The result was this stunner that glittered madly in the Italian sun, sitting on her manicured finger, the skin of her arm kissed by a golden tan.

His beautiful girl loved flowers, and she loved him, so her ring, in its platinum setting was a remarkable rose, reflecting Elain’s green thumb and life’s work. He selected the diamond himself, and the amethysts that comprised the petals, even the tiny onyx inserts, to signify him and the black ink of his tattoos. The ring was both extravagant—especially in carats—but intimate as well, a flower that spoke of his eternal love for this woman.

“I am going to take you somewhere, which I think you’d like,” he teased.

“Where?”

“How does lots of flowers sound?”

She smiled. 

Azriel

For gods’ sake, he was nervous. Azriel was not prone to nervousness or panic or discomfort, but this date, or whatever it was, filled him with dread.

He shouldn’t have asked her.

He was stupid and blinded by her beauty, by her deliciously voluptuous body, by the long, slender legs, by her shy, sweet smile. Those blushes. For the love of everything, those fine, adorable, sexy blushes.

She was part of the family network—both of his brothers were now in love with her sisters. It was cliché and unrealistic and unbelievable that she and he would end up in the same boat. Besides, he wasn’t so lucky as to have someone like her accept him. So, he was making a huge fucking mistake. If this was all going to go sour—which inevitably it would, of that he had no doubt—he’d mess up the delicate balance that existed between the Darling, Bagarat and Cavalhe brothers and the Archeron sisters. She’d reject him and then it would be awkward. Awkward for the upcoming wedding, in which he and Elain were supposed to couple up and be together in the wedding party. Rhys said, ‘fuck it’ and asked both him and Cassian to be best men, while Feyre had both of her sisters as maids-on-honour. There was no escaping it. Therefore, it would be awkward for the wedding, and then for Christmas and all the summer BBQs and pool parties and…well, he might just have to find excuses to never attend anything, ever.

But here he was, standing in front of an old-fashioned, cute corner storefront in the Village. Flower displays spilled on the sidewalk, and the windows, along with the marble edifice reminded him of Paris. This was exactly how he’d picture Elain’ store—slightly whimsical, elegant, classic, but modern. Au Nom de la Rose – The Name of the Rose—perfectly appropriate for Elain’s store name.

She wasn’t waiting for him outside, and he circled the block three times before, by some miracle, finding a parking space and leaving the silver Ferrari, and then made his way back to the store, arriving 4 minutes late, which was completely unacceptable. The store was technically closed at this hour, but he knocked and heard Elain’s voice telling him to come in. Some internal pressure inside of him released at the sound of her voice.

He entered and whistled,

“That’s a lot of flowers!”

Yep, definitely a glamourized 50’s Paris vibe.

“Azriel, I am so sorry, I am not ready,” Elain came from behind the counter, looking a bit frazzled.

“It’s alright I will wait,” he assured her, but she shook her head and said,

“No…I just received a huge order. An emergency order for an anniversary party. Azriel, it’s my biggest order ever!”

“That’s excellent!” he found himself feeling genuinely happy for her, if not for her concerned expression. “What’s up?”

“I…I,” she stumbled. “Feyre or Nesta would usually come and help out if I need them, but Feyre is in LA, and Nesta…” she swallowed, “Nesta is indisposed.”

Nes is on her period and is feeling like crap, read Cassian’s text from earlier today. I am going fishing. Care to join? Or are you busy romancing a certain Archeron sister?

Nesta was indisposed indeed, though Azriel didn’t feel like he needed to know the details.

“It’s a 25th Anniversary, and I have to make 25 bouquets and 15 centerpieces. The couple’s original florist fell through and they contacted me, in a panic, and I agreed,” she babbled, tugging on her long braid nervously. “And it’s for tomorrow,”

“Alright then,” he shrugged, “what’s the problem then? I am here.”

She looked up at him, her gaze both hopeful and confused.

“You? What are you going to do? I am sorry, Azriel, I am so sorry, we’d have to postpone,”

“We’d have to postpone our drive, but I am here. Use me.”

“Use you?”

“Use my body,” he chuckled, and she giggled an amused laugh.

“I appreciate the offer,” and when he thought that she’d continue rejecting his offer of help, she did the right thing and was a smart girl, nodding at last, and said, “will you truly help?”

“I am not a flower expert,”

“I wouldn’t have guessed,” she grinned.

He removed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and said, “Teach me, Archeron. I am an apt pupil.”

He was. Elain showed him model bouquets and thankfully, he wasn’t dumb or clumsy enough to screw them up, once he began copying the originals.

Night fell, and they ordered pizza and he went to get a bottle of wine from the store across the street.

Sitting on the floor of the store, surrounded by piles of flowers, vases, ribbons and twine, they ate pizza, laughing throughout the evening. She stretched her long, bare legs in front of her, crossing them at the ankles, and he couldn’t get enough—the pretty toes, the pale golden skin and the sexy pink nail polish. He didn’t want to seem like a creep, but he snuck more than a few glances at her feet when she wasn’t looking.

It was well past midnight when they were finally done.

He stretched on the floor and tucked his arm behind his head.

She kneeled above him, at his side, and said, “Azriel, thank you. I can’t, honestly, thank you enough. You saved me. Maybe my business too!”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he retorted gently, “but this was fun…and educational.”

“How can I repay you?” she asked.

“Well, well,” he drummed his fingers on the floor, pretending to think. “So many possibilities,”

At that, she flushed, and he licked his lips, loving the sight of that pink on her cheeks.

“Let’s make a bargain,” he proposed at last.

“A bargain?” her brow furrowed.

He nodded.

“For my exceptional assistance during your time of trouble and despair, you will agree to an outing with me, of my choosing. To do whatever I want.”

Elain stared at him, biting her plump lower lip.

“Are we going to do something bad?” she finally asked uncertainly.

He grinned and without thinking, cupped her cheek.

She didn’t recoil.

He drew his thumb over her soft skin and she leaned into his palm just a little bit. Gods it felt good. So good. So good to have her so near, so receptive, so unafraid. But he dropped his hand.

“You think I will take you to knock off a couple of 7-11s?”

“Well, if I am entering this death bargain with you, then who the hell knows?” she shrugged.

He laughed, “Death bargain? A little dramatic, are we?”

She was still sitting there, biting her lip, and all he wanted to do was drag his tongue over it. Kiss her large, brown eyes. Fist his hand around the thick mass of her hair, tilt her head and kiss her until she was breathless.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He never acted like this!

He never thought like this.

He was a rational, controlled, some said, cold man.

Not to say that he wasn’t able to find a woman immediately attractive, or want to fuck her, but this was different. This was unknown.

“Fine,” she shrugged.

“Fine?” he repeated, smiling.

“Don’t make me do anything bad,” she warned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” he promised. “I wouldn’t lead you astray. But,” he sat up, draping his forearms over his knees, “where do you live? Let me take you home,”

“I can take an Uber,”

He gave her an incredulous look and she nodded without further arguments.

“Where do you live?” he asked, once they were outside, somehow internally thrilled that perhaps, she’d invite him inside. He wouldn’t expect anything, obviously, but it would be nice see where she lived, what her private space looked like. So far, he couldn’t pinpoint her style with any accuracy, an interesting mixture of vintage and modern, of flowers and thorns.

“Just two blocks down,” she said, as she locked up the shop.

He gave her his arm, and it seemed like she almost expected it, because she immediately thrust her hand into the loop and he smiled softly.

The little white shorts and the flowery top did things to him, and he was glad to walk side by side, so to prevent himself from staring at her long legs and her neat, lush ass. He was already a mess over her legs, over her bending and squatting in front of him for the past four-five hours.

It was dark and quiet on the street, and they walked in a comfortable silence, each thinking of something of their own.

And then,

Elain sprawled face down on the pavement.

She cried out, landing on her knees on the asphalt, just barely having the time to brace herself on her hand, and ripping the skin of her palm.

Azriel was instantly on his knees in front of her.

Tears glistened in her eyes. Possibly from pain, because as she flipped on her butt, they saw that her knees were torn and bleeding, as was her palm, or maybe from shock, as well as embarrassment.

“Shhh,” he cooed gently to her, “are you okay?”

She shook her head. A lonely tear spilled from her eyes.

“Tissues?” he asked quickly, surveying the damage. Bruises were already blossoming on her scuffed kneecaps, all around the wounds.

She wordlessly handed him her bag, allowing him to rummage through it and he found a packet of old tissues, which he gingerly pressed to her bleeding knees.

“My ankle hurts,” she muttered, reaching down to inspect it.

“Let me,” he took her legs and looked over her ankle. She glared questioningly at him, still in some sort of stupor, not understanding what had occurred, and why she was now sitting on the ground, bleeding.

“You broke your heel,” he nodded to her foot and she glanced down, finally realizing that her heel caught in a crack in the pavement. The impact was so strong, it actually fully detached from the sole of the shoe.

“I am sorry,” she mumbled.

“You should be,” he chuckled, “you gave me quite a scare. I thought you were shot; you went down so quickly!”

She pushed at his arm, half laughing, and have crying.

“Stop making me laugh!” she ordered, sniffling and giggling. “Auuu, it hurts...”

He was lightly pressing on her ankle, and then said, “it’s just twisted. You’ll need ice, but it should be okay…”

“Ok, Doctor Azriel,” she even rolled her eyes slightly and he laughed, flicking her nose.

“I am trained on how to treat combat wounds and catastrophic field injuries, I’ll have you know,” he said and then gave her his hand. “On your feet, soldier! Let me see if you can stand.”

Moaning and groaning, she managed to stand up, but putting any weight on her foot caused a yelp to escape her lips.

“Alright, come on now,” he stepped and opened his arms, “jump in.”

“Jump in where?”

“Jump into my arms, of course.”

“What are you planning to do? Swing me around?”

“I could swing you around, but I was planning on carrying you home, and then making you an ice pack and disinfecting all your cuts.”

Without waiting for her to decide, he scooped her off the ground and she gasped, and he wasn’t sure what the little huff meant.

“But it’s like two blocks!” she protested feebly, and unconvincingly, “I am heavy.”

“Ooohhh,” he groaned dramatically, hefting her to his chest, as they started off. “Sooo, so heavy!”

“I am the fattest of my sisters,” she argued, and even in the darkness he saw that she was blushing realizing how silly her comment was.

“Well, considering that Nesta is like 90 lbs. and Feyre 110 lbs., that’s not saying much,” he assured her.

She was soft and warm in his arms, and when, without prompting, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him, he felt utterly at peace. Because the pieces of them fit. She fit him.

Blood still dripping, and her arms thrown over his neck, Azriel walked steadily, cradling her to his chest, until they finally reached a pre-War building, and she said, “There is no elevator.”

“Don’t tell me you are on the 6th floor!” he laughed, looking up.

“The third.”

“Guess I will have to haul the fattest of the Archeron sisters to the 3rd floor!” he sighed, and she smacked his arm, protesting,

“You can’t say that!”

He was laughing and she began to laugh as well.

“You said it first,” he reminded her.

 Her apartment was small, but she’d arranged the furniture in such a way that everything seemed more spacious, and orderly, without unnecessary frills. Mostly grays, turquoise, cobalt and creamy-white. For some reason, he thought that there would be much more pink and general fluff. This though, this he liked.

He sat her down on the sofa and went to the bathroom to find bandages and plasters and other items. She called out from her spot, telling him where to find things and he finally emerged and began working on all her wounds.

“Haven’t lost a soldier yet,” he told her with a chuckle. He kneeled in front of her, and his touch was firm, but surprisingly gentle, as he thoroughly washed every scuff and tear, and then disinfected and decided what needed bandages and what didn’t.

Elain remained mostly silent throughout the procedure, watching him from under her lashes.

“You are nice,” she said suddenly.

He looked at her and smirked.

“Not with anyone.”

“Everyone just says how handsome you are,” she lay her head on the back cushion, watching him. He gave her a painkiller, and it was making her drowsy. It was also late. She rarely stayed up this late. “But you are also very nice,” she added.

Elain

She woke up that morning, and was struck by the unfamiliar environment. And pain.

Her knees ached and screamed and hurt, as did her palm.

Light poured through the windows; the curtains still open.

She found herself on her sofa, haphazardly covered by a throw, and with her legs resting on Azriel’s lap.

Fuck.

Fuck.

He was here. With her.

He never left after last night’s debacle.

She was a clumsy cow, as always, but the incident was unusually embarrassing, even for her. She always spilled or dropped stuff on herself, tripped, stumbled, and fell on her ass at inopportune times, but last night…By the Mother!

The man was gosh darn saint. Not only did she screw up their evening plans, made him work and make bouquets with her, which, probably wasn’t the most exciting thing for him to spend the evening on, but she also almost ate the pavement, and then he carried her for half a mile! And cared for her when they came here. And spent, what must have been a horribly uncomfortable night in a half-seated position, with her, no doubt, pushing at him with her feet.

Yep, she was never going to see him again.

Good going, Elain. Fine job you did of this ‘relationship’. Now, for the rest of her life, she’d be forced to see him at family gatherings, probably with some stunning model of a wife, and he’d always remember her as the girl who tore her heel on the pavement.

She wanted to cry.

Not that she ever, even for a second, believed that this would go anywhere. Her and Azriel. That wasn’t possible. Things like these didn’t happen to her. She was strange and solitary and even if others claimed that she was pretty, going so far as to call her ‘beautiful’, she never felt like that. When Nesta got mad at her, she’d call her a ‘petty idiot’ and Elain felt like that more frequently than she cared to admit. And Azriel…he was cut from a different cloth. He was…

She looked at his face, still perfect, but ever so slightly relaxed and softened in sleep, his eyelids heavy and enviably long, thick lashes fanned over his golden-brown cheeks. He was funny, with a quick, dry sense of humour, intelligent and interesting, and when they talked last night, she couldn’t get enough! He told her fascinating stories from his time in the Navy, about his dream, which resulted in the creation of his beloved garage. It took him three years to open the place—conceptualize what he wanted, how to deliver it, the items to showcase. The result was not just the ‘garage’, but also the popular bar, and recently, a restaurant as well.

Scarred fingers touched her hand and he opened his eyes.

“Good morning,” he whispered, squinting at her. “How are you? How’s the pain?”

“Azriel,” she murmured, not even knowing how to thank him, but she attempted, “I want to,”

“Pancakes?” he asked eagerly.

She glanced at him with incomprehension.

“May I make you, or us, pancakes?” he proposed. “I’ve been sort of thinking about this all night. How I’d like to make you pancakes,”

“I want to thank,”

He lifted his finger and shook his head,

“No, no. My Italian mother would tell you that you should never thank anyone for providing medical help,”

“Why?”

“According to my psychotically superstitious Italian side of the family, the remedy or healing won’t take, if you offer thanks. Imagine, I was forbidden from ever saying ‘thank you’ to a doctor,”

She chuckled.

“So, you are Italian?”

“Mom’s side is half Neapolitan and half from Lazio—near Rome.”

He sat up and rolled his neck.

“Can I at least say that I am sorry that you had to be so uncomfortable and sleep on the couch?” she asked.

“It’s alright. Not the best night I’ve ever had, but not the worst one either. The company was nice too,” and he patted her legs.

A tiny flare of hope lit in her belly.

But she didn’t allow herself to have it take root.

Maybe not until he gathered her legs together on his lap and drew his fingers up and down her calf.

“But really, how is the pain?” he asked at last, watching her with his intense, warm eyes. The eyes didn’t warm frequently, it seemed, but when they looked at her—

He was different somehow.

Kind. Approachable.

“It’s fine,” she waved her hand, not wanting to burden him any longer with her dumb injuries.

Those long, scarred fingers glided over her skin, and a small smirk touched his lips, “May I kiss it better?”

She blinked at him.

“I hear that I am very good at making pain go away,” he added proudly, and then, his lips descended on her scuffed and bruised knees. She kissed each one, tenderly, and then took her hand and brought it to his lips, and pressed his mouth to the inside of her palm. Her breath hitched and she stared at him, wide-eyed, as he watched her, unblinking, gaging every minute reaction. He kissed her hand, inside and then out, and then kissed the other, even though it wasn’t injured, and then returned to her knees and kissed them again.

At last, “Better?” he asked.

She only mooed incoherently.

…Azriel, by the stove, flipping pancakes was the sexiest thing Elain had ever seen in her life.

Clad in dark slacks, in his white shirt from last night, with sleeves rolled up and the tattoo sleeves on full display, he stood in her kitchen, barefoot and flipped pancakes like a pro.

“You cook too?” she asked incredulously.

He laughed.

“Too? In addition to what?”

“I don’t know,” she was still perched on the sofa, like an invalid, but after she washed her face and brushed her hair, he ordered her to sit and not make unnecessary moves. “Everything?”

“My repertoire is limited, when it comes to the kitchen, but what I know how to make, I make well. Cassian is a better cook.”

“Cass?” she smiled.

“Nesta is lucky to have him,” Azriel added, somewhat wistfully.

Elain looked at him and nodded. “I think so too.”

“He is a good man. Maybe the best man I’ve ever known. Where my own family failed, he stepped in, though he is a year younger than me. But he taught me…how to be. Accepted me. Unconditionally. Taught me how to swim, how to ride a bike, how to fight.”

“And you?”

“I? I helped him with his reading,” Azriel rubbed his chin, his stance a little tense.

She didn’t say anything, waiting to see if he felt like sharing more.

“It was neglected,” he said at last. “His reading and writing. So, we sat together, late at night, at our foster parents’ house and read.”

He then asked, “coffee?”

The moment of reminiscing was over, and Elain did not press.

She nodded to one of the cupboards and he pulled out a tub of coffee and grimaced.

“This is what you drink?”

“Hey, it’s good coffee! I buy it at Trader Joe’s!” she laughed defensively.

“Baby, we are drinking Italian coffee in this house,” he decided, and there was no arguing with that logic.

 That’s how Elain became Azriel’s ‘baby’.

In their house, they always drank Italian coffee.

 Twenty minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

“Thanks Nu,” Azriel greeted a lanky, very thin, very tall girl, who handed him two packages and then winked at him and disappeared wordlessly.

“My assistant, Nuala,” he explained, showing Elain two packages of Lavazza coffee. “This will do for now.”

Elain hobbled to the small butcher block island that she’d restored from a console that she found at a flea market. “You text someone and they just appear?”

He grinned and shrugged innocently.

“I know a guy.”

“Of course you do. Are you in the mafia?”

“First of all, rude,” he placed a plate of chocolate chip pancakes in front of her and then poured her coffee, ���second of all, I just know a guy.”

“Who knows where to buy Lavazza on a Saturday morning?” she wondered, tucking into the pancakes.

“I have a network of spies,” he winked at her.

She sipped on the coffee, perhaps not as good a cup as he’d made her at his garage, but glorious nevertheless. “Are you in the CIA?”

“Not in the mafia or the CIA. Just a lowly car guy.”

“Uh-uh.”

They toasted with their coffee cups and Azriel said, “not bad for a first date. Blood and flowers. Very romantic.”

It was that morning, that sunny Saturday morning, over a plate of pancakes and some Italian coffee that Elain Archeron fell in love.

She fell in love completely.

Utterly.

Irreversibly.

And forever.

Now

Azriel turned off to some side road and how he knew where to go, Elain had no idea, but she just enjoyed the scents and warmth of the day.

“You know,” she laughed. “We are literally under the Tuscan sun right now!”

“All your dreams are coming true,” he ran a loving hand over her bare arm and she tore her gaze from the scenery around her.

“My dreams came true when I met you,” she confessed. “That was the day.”

“So easily impressed!” he teased, but she saw that her words touched something in him. His face softened with happiness.

“Az, slow down,” she whispered, an almost painful pull to kiss him spreading over her. “I want to kiss you.”

He looked at her, eyes hidden behind his Aviator shades, but slowed down and she leaned towards him and planted her mouth on his cheek.

“Lips,” she murmured with audible desperation.

“Baby, I don’t want to bust up this nice Ferrari,” he laughed. “And you, who is riding in it.”

Pouting, she ordered, “Then pull over so I can kiss you!”

He laughed louder, throwing his head back, his gorgeous tanned neck annoyingly desirable.

She wanted to bite his vein, lick the salty skin of his neck, and then sink her teeth into his shoulder. Elain was a biter. And a scratcher. Good thing that Azriel was a benevolent lover, who didn’t care if she left his body marked with her love, and didn’t mind the pain. In fact, he encouraged it.

His heavy brown hand lay on her knee, under the hem of her summer dress and he said,

“Why don’t I do something nice for you… then you can kiss me…”

“But I want to kiss you now,” she frowned playfully.

His hand slid a little higher, up her bare thigh, and he pressed his scarred palm into her thin, tender skin, rubbing slowly, indulgently. This was just as much for her as it was for him.

She threw her head into the back of the seat, eyes closed.

Until she yelped softly, when his wicked hand slipped higher and higher, pushing her dress up as well.

“Azriel Bagarat,” she murmured, “what am I going to do with you? And your love for public nudity and lovemaking…”

He shrugged oh so innocently and said, “firstly, it’s Archeron to you, and,”

“Not just yet,” she wiggled her ring-clad hand in front of him, “not until we got the paper and all, to make us official,”

They rolled their eyes at the same time and then laughed.

“And secondly, who can blame me?” he leaned and kissed her shoulder. “You are very hot. And I sort of want to fuck you all the time.”

His long, very experienced fingers made their way even higher, until he drew them along the cotton of her underwear, lightly pressing into the cleft, teasing ever so lightly. She shifted against the fingertips, her thighs falling apart in silent encouragement.

Elain was a giving and a receptive lover, innately knowing what he wanted and accommodating both of their needs thoughtfully, and easily.

“What do you want, baby?” he murmured.

“To kiss you,” she insisted stubbornly.

He huffed his amusement, and then pushed his finger deeper, firmer against the cotton, whispering,

“How about this?”

“This is nice, I suppose,”

“Only nice?” he withdrew his finger in warning and she grabbed his wrist, and thrust it back in place.

“Maybe a little better than ‘nice’, huh?” he teased.

“A little,” she agreed, gasping when he cupped her fully, swiping his heel of his palm against the length of her folds, feeling the dampness against his skin. Bold, as he always was, he moved the strip of cotton to the side, and hiked up her dress ever higher, exposing her to his exploration.

He snuck a glance at her perfectly peachy, pink pussy, bare and succulent, like a ripe fruit dripping with its sweet juices.

He groaned and then hissed, “I am stopping, right now. I want you coming on my tongue in the next four minutes,”

“So confident, ombre?”

She took to calling him ombre or ‘shadow’, when, early in their relationship, he kept materializing in front of her out of nowhere, stepping out of the shadows. He laughed, but didn’t mind the endearment. What’s more, it became a private thing between the two of them—he’d call her ‘rose’ and she’d call him ‘ombre’. It wasn’t nauseatingly sugary sweet and could be used in public without making people gag. Unlike, for example, the Darlings, who, for whatever reason called each other ‘my darkness’. Or Cassian, who sometimes went with ‘schmoopie’, braving Nesta’s wrath.

Azriel laughed, while incessantly dragging his finger back and forth over the wet slit, without doing much else, and making her gasp and squirm.

“That I can make you come on my tongue in 4 minutes? Fuck yeah! Want me to prove it?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” she shook her head, “you don’t get to just do whatever the hell you want, when you want it. If I don’t get my kiss, you don’t get to,”

“What? Lick your pussy? I feel like the punishment is unreasonable,” he protested.

She gave him a sultry look, a look that only he was privy to, and then murmured, spreading her legs a little wider for him,

“Maybe I want to lick something of yours?” she proposed, her voice husky, pouring like honey over his ear.

“I wouldn’t be opposed,” he choked out, finally parting the soft cushions of her folds and dragging his knuckles over the wet spread of her. The intoxicating scent of her arousal, mixed with the Italian sunshine and the smell of grass, flowers and cypresses was so heady, he almost swerved, stopping only quick enough to grip the steering wheel tightly in his left hand.

Gods, if he was going to make it to their next destination, he would be impressed with himself. But it was close.

Azriel

Elain loved getting fingered. That was the first thing he learned about her sexually—kissing and fingering.

In the privacy of their world, he fingered her constantly.

It was almost an obligation on his part by now, to have her wake up, tucked into his side, while gently, but thoroughly pumping her soft, indescribably tight center. No matter how many times he’d been inside of her, she remained tight, as tight as the first time. That was a blessing, but a curse as well, for all he could typically think about throughout the day, was sinking into that glorious tightness.

When she was finally semi-awake, she rolled on her back and spread her legs in front of him, so he could finger her in earnest. Two fingers first, nice and deep inside of her, as he knelt in front of her and watched her come undone before him. And then, there was always a moment when her eyes flew open, and her back arched, and he slipped the third one in. The plush, warm walls of her sex stretched and pulled to accommodate him, but he went slow and deep, only grazing the sensitive spot in her, making her moan low and begging, the pressure of his hand steady and firm.

She cried and cried into the pillow, head thrown back in utter extasy, her hair a tangled halo about her. She wasn’t permitted to move her hips, his only order in that early-morning game of theirs, therefore she was wholly dependent on him for her pleasure. If she ever did begin a sensual undulation of her hips around his hand, he’d allow her to continue for a few moments, aware that she was lost in her own pleasure, before cruelly yanking his hand out of her.

“Was my girl allowed to do that?” he’d ask simply, and amidst her disappointed panting, her pleading for more, her sweet, innocent “sorry. I am sorry,” she’d beg him to fill her again.

Then she’d lay still, eyes wide and pleading, her little opening vibrating at the loss, before he placed her feet on his shoulders and thrust in her anew. This time, his scarred, rough, brown, inked fingers disappeared in her completely. She buckled and let out a wild moan that reverberated from the very depth of her, because all four fingers were inside, and his thumb finally, finally began a gorgeously slow torment around her clit. She just lay there, tense and unmoving, watching him, the slurping, obscene sounds of his hand inside of her filling the sleepy morning air around them.

Elain came quietly. She moaned and twisted and gasped as he rubbed her clit, but when the waves finally descended upon her, when he felt the tight, silky flesh grip and pump all four of his fingers, which were now pressing up into her perfect spot, the exhale was soft and intimate. Only for him.

Now

“Don’t wreck the car,” Elain muttered, eyes barely open.

“Will this be the second one?” Azriel asked, while Elain wrapped her hand around his wrist and forcefully jammed his hand inside of her.

Four.

Four orgasms daily. That was his promise.

He’d provide her with at least four daily orgasms. So far, he typically exceeded expectations. It wasn’t particularly difficult, because he often played with her at odd times—when they were watching TV, he’d slip a finger onto her clitty and rub her slowly and leisurely, until she melted from the stimulation. She enjoyed it when he bent her over counters or sinks, and sunk his fingers deep and hard into her perpetually ready hole.

Elain, to his complete delight and fascination, was always just a bit aroused. Always, always just a bit wet, just a little damp for him. He’d make an unscheduled stop at her shop and if it was empty, he’d step behind the counter with her, and soon, she’d be splayed over the counter, his hand between her legs. Yes, they’ve been almost caught plenty of times, but Azriel had the ability to disappear into shadows as soon as he sensed someone coming. Sometimes, when someone would walk in the store, Azriel even pretended that he was a customer, buying flowers, watching her patiently, while she got his bouquet ready for him. Never mind that his hand might have been soaked with her slick, or that he smirked, watching her press her thighs together, while she wrapped the flowers, as she avoided eye contact with him, and handed him the bouquet which he’d inevitably bring home for her.

When he was around her, she jokingly complained that she was of constant need for him, and it was his very enviable and pleasant task to soothe the ache inside of her.

 Azriel

Their friends, family, found their relationship perplexing. But Elain kept her sisters firmly at an arm’s length when it came to the discussion of their sex life. No matter how they tried to pry, she gently, but firmly rebuffed them. Nesta complained and said that they were too obsessed with each other. That Elain was too in love and that Azriel was too dependent on Elain’s love for this to be normal. Elain only shrugged and didn’t argue.

 “It’s not normal!” seethed Nesta, watching Elain and Azriel wrapped around each other on the dance floor, Elain’s body shimmying and swaying around her, arms raised in the air, her hips swooshing to the beat, bumping into his pelvis.

“You think they are gonna do it right on the dancefloor?” Cassian contemplated quietly, not sure if this was outside the realm of possibilities.

“He would!” she spat and gulped down her Aperol spritz aggressively. “I am surprised he is not bending her over…more surprised she isn’t agreeing!”

“They never argue,” Cassian nodded.

“They never—never—argue. It’s not normal!”

The way Cassian saw it, as long as the two were happy, he had no right to judge.

Nesta was a hot pepper. Feyre, an apple—solid, tasty, dependable. Elain—whipped cream—a delicious topping over anything, but especially Azriel.

 Nevertheless, the word got around.

One day, Azriel, Rowan and Cassian were sitting in Elain’s flower shop, toiling diligently over a huge order of flowers.

They wouldn’t admit it to anyone, not to each other, or their women, but they quite enjoyed hiding in that flower shop and arranging flowers. They claimed that they were doing it for Elain’s sake, to help her out, so she didn’t have to hire additional help just yet, but,

Well, they liked it.

At first, Elain wasn’t sure if Cassian was cut out for the task, because the very first try was a little rough.

“Cass, these are not your enemies that you are about to smite,” Elain instructed gently, prying his fingers from the stems of irises, which he was clutching like he was about to throw a lance.

“Pfff, you look like you are about to choke a chicken,” Nesta teased. And promptly realised her mistake, biting her lip.

Cassian cocked his brow and murmured seductively,

“What chicken am I choking, sweetheart? My own,”

“Oh no,” Elain stepped in between them, hands on her hips. “No. No. No. Absolutely not.”

“Lainey, don’t allow Cass to choke his chicken in front of us,” begged Azriel, working quickly and deftly, and soliciting an envious look from Cassian, whose flowers were in complete disarray, compared to Azriel’s neat piles and methodical assembly line.

“Yes, no one is choking chickens, penises or each other in here,” ordered Elain sternly, while Nesta and Azriel were laughing silently.

“Hehe,” smirked Cassian, “Elain said ‘penis’!”

“Take your dirty talk and deeds,”

Dirty deeds done dirt cheap, dirty deeds done dirt cheap

Cassian began rocking to his own singing, imitating the gravel of Brian Johnson’s voice rather successfully, headbanging over his babybreath, bluebells and irises.

Chicken choking forgotten for a moment.

 As Cassian fussed over a vase, working on each stem and arranging them just so, wearing a little white apron no less, he asked casually, “So, brother, four?”

Azriel was in his own headspace, and he didn’t even hear Cassian, as he was busy with his own flower arrangement.

There was, expectedly, a competition going on—who’d complete the most arrangements in an hour. Rowan, a veritable giant, and Cassian’s best friend, also wore an apron, but a long one, like a butcher, and was significantly ahead of the pack. That bothered Azriel more than he cared to admit. So, he was re-strategizing his strategy.

“Four what?” Rowan inquired, not taking his eyes off the flowers, working like a machine.

“Ask Az here,” Cassian suggested. He was catching up to Azriel with an alarming speed.

Azriel had never lost, so far. He wasn’t going to lose today.

“Stop speaking in riddles. What are you talking about?”

“Word on the street is that our Az here provides the flower girl with a minimum of four orgasms on the daily,”

Azriel started and finally tore his eyes from the flowers.

Both Rowan and Cassian were watching him, smirking.

“I guess it’s true then,”

“Fuck off.”

“If that’s true,” Rowan drawled, “good for you, man. Though you are putting us to shame with this ridiculous offer of yours. How do you keep up?”

“Easily,” Azriel shrugged. “But it’s freaking me out that you two are talking about my sex life so casually.”

“But fucking four? Daily?” repeated Cassian, shaking his head.

“Yeah, Elain, man,” Rowan rubbed the back of his head, mussing his silver hair, “who would’ve thought?”

Cassian nodded, “No offense, brother, but Elain doesn’t strike anyone as particularly adventurous in the bedroom,”

“And that’s where you’d be wrong,” Azriel said simply.

“Very beautiful,” offered Rowan pacifically, “but…you know…Kind of like Elide, I guess. You wouldn’t know it, looking at her,”

Cassian was nodding. “Yeah, she looks like she eats macaroons and reads Jane Austen,”

“Macarons,” said Azriel.

“What?”

“It’s macaron. Not macaroon.”

“What the hell is the difference?”

“One is a French biscuit, made with almond flour and filled with a creamy filling. The other, is a coconut concoction that one usually eats at Passover.”

Rowan was chuckling. Cassian was shaking his head, grunting, “you would know. So, does she? Eat maca--,”

“No, she doesn’t even like macarons. And she doesn’t read Jane Austen. She reads espionage novels. She likes Daniel Silva. Any more stupid questions?”

Elide. Of course. He should’ve guessed.

Elain and Elide met through Rowan and it was friendship at first sight.

Azriel couldn’t argue—the two women were similar in many ways. Both were on a quiet side, polite, well-mannered. Elain—a ray of sunshine, tall, slender and curvaceous, smiling and affable, with piles of golden-brown locks and warm brown eyes. Elide—the opposite—small, pale, with perfectly straight, silky black hair and dark, midnight eyes. Both—crafty in the ways of the world, charming, when needed, capable of getting into everyone’s good graces, and therefore, getting what they wanted.

“No, no more stupid questions,” said Cassian. “Just don’t know how you two grumps attracted such lively girls,”

“Lorcan and I aren’t ‘grumps’. We just talk when we need to and don’t have the need for instant gratification or to be the center of attention. Something I can’t say about you,”

“It’s not about me,” Cassian protested, but Azriel stopped him, by raising his finger,

 “Now, if you are not going to shut the fuck up about my woman and me, I will spread a rumour amongst your women, that it’s not four, but six. Daily. Let’s see how you measure up then.”

Silence fell.

Azriel won.

His 36th win.

 Now

 “Yes, the second,” Elain nodded with a satisfied smile.

 Azriel

 Naturally, today, he woke her up properly, as he always did.

They stayed in an adorable little villa, near Montepulciano. It was everything a Tuscan villa was supposed to be…

including the dust that settled in its 800-year-old walls. And Elain coughed and coughed and coughed, surprisingly not coughing up a lung.

“We can’t stay here,” Azriel said, frowning.

“Where are going to go? We are in the middle of Tuscany and it’s 10 pm,” she reminded him.

Ever resourceful, he dragged the mattress off the antique bed and plopped it down on the floor of their small balcony.

“We sleep here. Under the night Tuscan sky.”

It was a lovely, if chilly night, and Elain would’ve enjoyed it if she didn’t fall asleep almost immediately and slept through the night.

She was still asleep, when the birds began their morning song and Azriel positioned her on her hands and knees, and carefully removed her nightgown, baring her to the dry, cool morning air.

“Someone will see us,” she murmured sleepily.

She tucked her hands under her cheek, and followed the direction of Azriel’s hand on her hip, rising her butt high up, and arching her back for him.

Azriel loved having sex out in the open. Especially if she was completely naked. He wasn’t overt about it, but the thrill of being found out, the titillating desire to be watched was always present. She knew it. She indulged his fantasies.

“I don’t think anyone would mind watching you,” he whispered hotly in her ear and lightly bit the apple of her cheek. “But it’s also like 4:15 in the morning. So maybe they are still sleeping.”

He settled behind her and she felt his hands on her back, smoothing over the sharp cut of her tight waist and then the soft curve of her hips.

“Spread your legs for me, my love, I want to play with you a little bit,” he guided her, and she followed his direction, squatting inelegantly on her knees, thighs wide apart for him. He cupped her fully in his palm and then pinched her clit, hard, twisting it and rubbing it between his two fingers, until she bit her forearm, trying to stifle her cries of instant pleasure.  He pinched again, then again, rubbing tightly, while he bit her buttock playfully, but hard enough to leave a pink mark.

“Mmmm,” she groaned, when he nibbled on her flesh again, tugging on the swollen clit with relentless dedication. She managed to twist enough to kiss his knee and whispered, eyes still closed, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, my beautiful girl,” he leaned forward and kissed her wet, stretched opening, dragging his tongue around and around the rim, “and you are so nice and wet for me in the morning. My good girl, what do you want?”

“Only you,” she vowed. “Only you, my Az.”

“Let’s fill your pretty little hole then,” he licked on it again, and then slid one strong, long finger inside. As he began to pump her slowly, he proposed, “When I fill you with my cock later on,”

“Uh oh,” she moaned dreamily, smiling a loving smile, enjoying his finger to the fullest.

“I think I’d like to add a finger or two as well. What do you think?”

“I’d like that, I think,” she complied easily.

Elain was not a particularly imaginative lover, but Azriel was the opposite—he had too much imagination when it came to everything. Especially Elain, and what he liked to do with her sexually. What was absolutely fantastic, and he thanked all the gods for this phenomenon, was that Elain was willing to try anything. She was an absolutely willing and eager lover, who learned from him and learned of her body with readiness and joy. He dominated her completely, but that was the nature of their relationship, and they easily fell into their roles, from the very beginning. She was submissive, loved praise, and loved being guided and told what to do. More than anything else, she loved pleasing him. There was never any pull and push, no competition, no power struggles. Elain was made for him, created and carved from something that was innately his, whether it was his body or his mind, and they lived and loved harmoniously. He complimented her perfectly: her temperament, her needs, her wants. He treated her with admiration, gentleness, adoration and respect, and while his own expectations were high, she met them all with ease. She took control when she needed to. Received what she wanted from him, however she needed to. And he gave and gave.

Some, or many, called them soulmates.

Perhaps that’s what they were. Or maybe, they were even more than that.

Azriel stretched his legs on either side of her curved body and then added another finger inside of her sopping, slippery opening, reaching deep into her and pumping her firmly.

“Auuuu, babe, it’s good…” she squealed, “it’s so good.”

Unable to wait any longer, he pulled her buttocks apart with his available hand and swept his tongue over the tiny opening, causing her to seize with surprise and pleasure. Instinctively, she moved her hips against his tongue, pushing her backside into his lips. He licked the little hole in earnest, dragging his tongue back and forth between both of her openings, making her tremble and shudder every time his tongue reached one or the other.

As he sat to the task of licking and sucking her tight hole, he thrust a third finger into her dripping passage, feeling her shift against his face to accommodate the stretch. It was a lot, and she whimpered and moaned from the pressure, but he knew that she could take four, though he wasn’t in a hurry, and worked her diligently and steadily, his tongue laving the other hole just as eagerly.

She was shaking between his legs, her toes curling beneath her, rapid pants escaping into the morning mists, her hair draping the tiled floor in front of her, even spilling through the balcony rails.

Somewhere they heard sheep bleating and Elain laughed softly, before arching her back even further, not caring how splayed she looked. There wasn’t a part of her that he hasn’t seen, hasn’t touched or licked or kissed, not an inch of her that wasn’t caressed by his rough hands, not an orifice that he hasn’t penetrated with his magnificent cock. He’d burrowed inside of her so deeply, so wholly, he possessed all of her and she knew what it’s like to truly be part of another person, to be loved with egregious passion.

He fed another finger inside of her and she cried out, trembling and grunting, as she grabbed and squeezed his foot with mighty strength.

He tore his lips away from her bottom and grinned,

“Love, when you are in labour with our baby, I am fully prepared for the fact that you will break my fingers, maybe even my hand.”

“I am sorry,” she laughed, and kissed his foot, dragging her tongue over his toes.

There wasn’t a part of him that she did not love, did not worship with everything she had. No part of his body remained un-kissed, un-touched, un-caressed. A lazy Sunday, especially if the weather was crap and they had no plans to go out, was her favourite time—she could spend the day loving her Azriel. On those days, she pleasured him. And if she spent hours with his cock buried in her throat, or his balls between her lips, or her tongue in his ass, she was only too happy.

The tips of his fingers crawled into that hidden spot inside of her, curling just so, so he could massage and rub her into a frenzy. He stilled for a moment, to allow her to adjust to the fullness and the stretch, as she bit his foot, trying to stifle her screams. She leaked slowly over his hand, as most of it was situated in her clutching, hungry tightness.

“Very good, my baby,” he praised, kissing her buttocks and then giving her anus a few approving licks, “taking all four inside of you,”

“Oh my god, oh,” she groaned, “it’s so tight…Az, my love, I am so full,”

“I know, love,” he coaxed evenly, his hand beginning a steady, firm barrage of deep, pounding thrusts, “but it’s nice, isn’t it?”

“Yeess,” she only managed, voice thin, pleading. She could barely hold herself up, so he wrapped his arm around her hips, keeping her ass up. She grabbed the balcony wrought-iron spindles, squeezing them tightly, forehead pressed into the mattress, as he pumped her harshly, keeping her on the verge of constant climax, but pulling back just so, for her to moan and beg him in a never ending litany.

“Baby, you want to come?” he teased, still busy with her butthole, which softened under his furious sucking and if they had more time and privacy, Elain would be ready to take him anally soon enough.

“Yes,” she grunted, “yes,”

“Ask nicely, and maybe,”

“Ugh, you are such a horrible tease,” she complained, biting his foot in spite, and he laughed, before slapping her firm, soft buttock.

“Biting a person who is making you come so nicely?” he slapped her again, and she yelped with pleasure, wiggling her ass, silently asking for more.

The walls of her passage clenched desperately over his fingers, and she made a choking, frantic sound in her chest, now beyond pleading or even moaning. He sucked, and slapped, and bit, and thrust, pumping her open, the sounds of the wet and the skin inside of her completely obscene, and music to both of their ears.

Azriel noticed a man, either a delivery guy or a grounds keeper, watching them wide eyed and shocked from a distance. Probably not something he expected to see at 4:40 in the morning. Not that he made a move to leave.

Azriel opted not to alarm Elain, who was coming violently on his hand, her body trembling and jerking, her beautiful, quiet orgasm sweeping everything in its path. His girl deserved a proper wake up, deserved and needed her climaxes, and deserved to be watched, because she was so beautiful. Her teeth and tongue clamped tightly on his foot, his toes, as she bit and licked, completely undone, turned inside out by his expert hand.

He still worked her hand in her, his thrusts shallow and not as strong, when she collapsed on the mattress at last, eyes closed, panting.

He smiled and finally slipped on the mattress alongside her, though he kept a finger between her folds, rubbing soothingly. She’d bite his head off if he removed his hand from her this quickly.

“Good morning my love,” he whispered at last, kissing her cheek.

“Mmmm, good morning,” she sighed with satiated pleasure.

“Some guy caught an eyeful,” he whispered, but she only snuggled to his chest.

“I don’t care…As long as you were watching me, that’s all that matters.”

“I wouldn’t mind sliding into your little bum right now,” he confessed, stroking her hip and her curvy backside.

“Do you want to take me?” she offered sweetly, eyes fluttering open.

He kissed her head and smiled, “So tempting, but not here and not now. Let’s jump in the shower and then be on our way. We’ve got a decent amount of driving to do today.”

She nodded.

“Did I tell you that I love you?” she stroked his cheek, the sharp, angular cut of it, the dark bronze skin.

“You did, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”

“I love you, Azriel.”

“I love you, Elain.”

 Elain

Their day was long.

They had their cappuccino and cornetti at some café on the road.

Their trip had a purpose—they were actually driving to Maranello, to the Ferrari headquarters where Azriel had 3 days of business meetings.

When Az told her that he was thinking of going to Italy, it was no brainer to say ‘yes’.

It was the first time she was going to leave her business, her shop, for an extended period of time, but Feyre promised to oversee the operations, while Cerridwen, whom Elain recently hired as a full-time employee and who was Nuala’s sister, was going to be responsible for the day-to-day.

The last time Elain’s been to Italy was when she was barely 10 years old. A few years before everything’s went to shit. Back then, her father completed a very lucrative business deal and there was a lot of disposable cash, so the family decided to take a grand trip to Italy.

Little Feyre who was only seven screeched and begged to go to Disneyland, while Nesta and their mother voted for Italy. No one asked Elain, assuming that she’d go wherever she was told.

The trip was extensive, almost four weeks, and they hit all the glamorous Southern parts—the Amalfi coast, with their headquarters in a rented villa near Positano. Then they went to Portofino, and their father rented a yacht for a few days, the trip culminating in Capri. It was a whirlwind on sun and the sea, of lemons, eating grilled squid, at which Feyre stared in horror, though she liked the taste, amazing fruit, endless pastries and gelato. Even their mother yanking a few pastries away from Elain, hissing that she ‘grow fat and not find a husband’ didn’t mar the experience. Elain, always the plumper of the sisters, was used to the warning by then.

 This time around, Elain could eat as much pastry as she wanted.

They landed in Rome, spent four days there, since she insisted on going to the Vatican Museum twice, hear Mass at St. Peter’s, and she didn’t know if she annoyed Azriel with her endless excitement and tales of art, artists, and biblical stories, but she couldn’t help herself.

She was an Art History major in NYU, receiving a full scholarship to attend. She loved it. Didn’t like college all that much as a whole, but loves studying. When everyone was partying, drinking, fucking and skipping classes, she went to the Met and to MOMA and learned and enjoyed herself. She loved history of religion, of other cultures and though not at all religious herself, none of them were, her knowledge on the subject was thorough.

Azriel, it seemed, liked her passion, her excitement, and listened attentively when she went on long explanation of what this or that Saint did and what grizzly death they’d suffered. And what was the significance of the painting or sculpture of the said Saint. Obviously, he was very artistically inclined as well, though his preference lay in design and industrial art, but he enjoyed listening and discussing. They spent hours and hours meandering the halls of the museum, and of the cathedral, and both spent a good half an hour in front of the Pieta, staring in silence and quiet contemplation at the sculpture, holding hands.

It was when they were sitting at a café, sipping some bitter Campari cocktails and watched the sprawling vistas of Rome that Azriel confided to her. Told her of his childhood. She knew some of the details, but he never talked about his childhood, and she opted not to pressure him. It was clear enough that it was horrific in many ways, and bringing up all those memories didn’t make sense to Elain.

Told her how his father, who was rich and vicious, won custody of him from his mother, not because he wanted his son, but out of spite, to torment the mother. And then it was years of solitude and loneliness and emotional and physical abuse. Azriel’s only reprieve was drawing, making designs, sometimes with chalk on the pavement, sometimes on scraps of paper. His stepmother threw everything out as soon as he made it. He languished in his father’s world for 8 years, until a catastrophic event took place—his stepbrothers doused him, his hands, in gasoline and lit him up. They didn’t call the paramedics either, and simply stood there, watching, as he burned. Finally, the neighbors heard his screams and police and ambulance came at last.

Because he was young, he recovered most of the sensations and feeling in his hands, but the skin was permanently scarred and his father refused skin grafts.

He’d met Cassian at the hospital, who came there having been beaten so badly by his foster father, that he had a concussion, broken ribs and a punctured eye socket.

Mrs. Darling, Rhys’s mother, who was one of the biggest benefactors of the children’s hospital where they were recovering, heard their stories and thankfully, her wealth opened every door. Her influence and wealth were no match for Azriel’s father. Hence when she decided that she wanted to adopt the two boys, little could be done to dissuade her. Azriel and Cassian still spent some time in foster care, while the documents were being processed and all the formalities legalized, but at the end, they ended up with the Darlings, as their adopted sons.

Elain wanted to cry for him, for his destroyed childhood, for his tormented youth, for his injuries, for the lack of love in his life. For his sake, though, she didn’t.

Sensing that he needed her support, she didn’t release his hand for the remainder of the day.

And she told him how much she loved him and how happy he made her.

 They left Montepulciano, and then drove for a few hours and stopped at Orvieto, and explored its unnecessary enormous Duomo, which was situated on the hill, amidst the Umbrian lushness. The tiny town did offer spectacular views and great wine, which they enjoyed with lunch.

 Now

Azriel worked his fingers into the supple warmth of her damp pussy and looked down, before ordering, “wider, Lainey”.

She spread her legs wider, her knit dress folded haphazardly over the belly.

“Wider,” he said and she placed one foot on the seat, exposing herself completely to him.

It was never wide enough for him, for he liked to see everything, liked to spread and open and pull her wide apart for his eyes, for his exploration.

He pressed his thumb to her plump pink clit and began to rub.

She whined impatiently and he smiled,

“We are almost there…”

“I need you,” she moaned, kissing his shoulder through his shirt.

“I need you too, my beauty,” he nodded, “but I think once we get there, you’ll forget all about me.”

She tsked and announced, “I don’t know if anything will impress me as much as your cock in my mouth,”

He started at the blunt words, her amused grin and then burst out laughing.

“Naughty.”

In a few minutes, he rounded a small green hill and Elain’s breath caught in her throat.

“Oh, gods…Az…”

He was smiling.

He’d never been here before, but he’d done his research, finally finding the right spot.

A tiny hidden valley, nestled between a few rolling Tuscan hills, with a small turquoise lake sparkling in the late afternoon sun. In the distance, a mandatory Tuscan villa.

And poppies. Fields of poppies, stretching as far as the eye can see. A blanket of ruby-red poppies, gently swaying in the pine-scented air.

This place was a damn Walmart painting come true, and Azriel loved it for its kitsch, its predictability.

“It’s gorgeous!” she gasped. Then chuckled, adding, “Like one of those mass-produced paintings,”

At that, Azriel roared with laughter, killed the engine and they got out of the car.

“My thoughts exactly!” he nodded vigorously.

She ran into the poppies, brushing her palm over the petals, “But it’s worth it! No painting can ever do this justice! Az…it’s so beautiful!” she twirled in the field of red, her white dress a stark contrast to the vibrancy of the colours around her—the cobalt of the cloudless sky, the emerald green of the hills, the blood-red of the poppies.

He folded his arms and said, “I am glad you like it.”

“Like it? I love it!”

She inspected all the wildflowers that bloomed among the poppies, picking a few purple ones and a daisy and tucking them behind her ear. Another daisy she brought to him and tucked it into his hair.

“There is a blanket in the trunk,” he jerked his head towards the car, and unbuttoned his shirt almost to the navel, “if you want to picnic,”

“I want to picnic!” she squealed and ran to the car to get what she needed.

Soon there was a blanket on the grass and a few bottles of wine in a basket.

He slid down, stretching on the blanket, toeing off his shoes, rolling his shoulders. This was nice. He also relished her happiness, how her high ponytail bounced about as she ran through the field barefoot, and then began twirling, arms outstretched and singing loudly,

The hills are alive with the sound of

Griswold, he helped out.

“Are you coming here?” he called out, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“No,” she yelled, “I am picking flowers!”

“They’ll wilt,” he muttered reasonably, but she didn’t hear him.

Azriel dozed off, surprising himself. But the pleasant heat, the sunshine, the breeze, the birds—all lulled him into sleep. He stirred only when he sensed Elain near, and when he opened his eyes, he was treated by a lovely surprise. He propped himself on his elbows and watched his beautiful girl walk towards him completely naked, with a heap of flowers in the crook of her arm. What she did with her dress he didn’t know and didn’t care. But he drunk in the slim, curvy silhouette of her body, the long, slender legs and the toned thighs. Her smooth, pink sex glistened just a bit with her usual arousal, and full breasts bounced with every step. Her hair flowed behind her, unbound.

��I got hot,” she announced.

He grinned.

“I can see that. I like it when you get hot like this.”

She stood over him, her delicious slit taunting him and he made to touch it, but she dumped all the flowers on him instead and said, “get up”.

“Why?!” he frowned. “I am so comfortable.”

“I can make you a little more comfortable,” she promised, “but for that, you have to get up.”

With a groan, he got on his feet, only to have her slide on her knees in front of him. She looked up and murmured, “by the time you are done with me, I only want to have gelato to soothe my throat.”

He swallowed audibly, watching her unbutton his trousers and then his shirt. She removed the pants completely, but left the white shirt on, before placing a few soft, loving kisses on the thick slabs of muscles on his stomach. The well-defined outline of his Adonis Belt she traced with her tongue, inevitably making her way from his hip towards the final destination.

“And I want my knees bruised,” she added with a wicked smirk.

He flicked her nose and shook his head, “such filthy words coming from this pretty little mouth.”

She licked her lips with impatience, hungrily watching him fist his member and give it a few rough, preliminary strokes.

“Gods, your cock is gorgeous,” she gasped with admiration, watching him work himself with practiced determination.

“You like my cock?” he drew the thick, smooth head of it over her full lips and she whimpered with anticipation, nodding, kissing it affectionately, with slow, open mouth kisses, as he continued to pump it lazily.

She admitted, “more than anything. Az, Az,” she begged impatiently, as he smeared a trickle of liquid that dribbled from the tip over her lips, “please,”

“Please what?”

She rested her hands on his thighs, kneeling close enough so that her breasts brushed against them, “I want it in my mouth. Please.”

He lightly smacked the thick girth of his shaft over her half-opened mouth, making her shake with anticipation, smiling down at her. Her eyes burned with raw, overwhelming desire.

“But I like it when you ask me, baby. Tell me more,”

“That your cock is gorgeous and ridiculously huge?” she chuckled, relishing in his rubbing the tip insistently over her lips, as she licked the little slit.

“Keep going,” he encouraged.

“That I love you and can’t wait to suck it?”

“Alright, babe,” she nodded at last, “I guess you’ll just have to suck my huge dick,” and with that, he slid between her lips.

She smiled around him and pulled on it deeper, dragging her tongue over and under the thick shaft. It was always just a little too big for her, so she gasped, as he filled her mouth more and more, sliding in steadily. She eased her throat as much as she could, accepting the thrust and feeling the smooth head dip down, brushing the back of her throat. He was watching her intently, every bob and swallow of her throat, making sure that she was comfortable enough to hold him in. “Big?” he murmured. Her eyes teared up, but she managed a small nod. Her hands squeezed his thighs nervously, tightly, stroking the backs of them, while he began to pull out slowly, before sliding back in.

Nothing was more exciting than Elain’s ability to mould her throat around his shaft, while those big brown eyes blinked at him, seeking approval. He put his hand over her head, stroking it, then caressing her face, her hollowed cheeks, while giving her mouth a few exploratory thrusts.

She readied herself and pulled back, releasing the cock with an audible pop, and then licking the underside, from the balls to the tip.

“Just like that, my love,” he nodded, watching her tuck her face in the crease of his hip and slide her tongue up and down the sides of his cock. “Is that good?”

“It’s the best,” she vowed, “I love licking!” she added enthusiastically, proceeding to do just that.

He always remembered that she was very innocent and whatever she knew, no matter how sensual, erotic or even perverse, it all came from him. He taught her—gently, firmly and thoroughly the art of the bedroom and whatever they did, he was completely assured that she enjoyed and wanted every moment of it. Thankfully, she was so innocent that she didn’t know how to pretend or fake anything, especially when it came to sex, and didn’t know how to play games. She was eager and loving and excitable because what they did together, with each other, pleased her, and for no other reason. Azriel cherished this level of honesty more than anything.

Therefore, when she said that she loved licking, she showed him just how much she enjoyed it, licking up and down voraciously, over the sides, watching him unblinking. He cupped the pouch of his balls in one hand and carefully eased it into her mouth.

“You are so good to me,” he groaned, as she wrapped her lips around the ball and began to suck eagerly, not caring if she was loud, smacking her lips, tongue working non-stop, caressing the flesh. She hummed appreciatively around the balls, sending a pleasant shiver down his thighs, her mouth completely filled with him. “That’s good, my girl,” he stroked her head, “just like that. Keep going,” his head fell back with satisfaction, and she swallowed hard around his balls, almost moaning at the sight of his neck, the expression of pleasure written on his face.

“Can I tell you a story?” he muttered huskily, looking back down at her, his eyes dark and his face tense. Elain nodded. He gripped his cock and then slid it back in her mouth, almost to the hilt, making her choke and gag at once, watching her eyes widen.

She was drooling, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the pressure of her member in her throat, or from the visual display of his stunning body above her. The thick pectorals, adorned with black and blue ink twitched as he began to pump in and out of her mouth, hard and steady. He held the back of her head, but the clutch of his hand was light and casual, only keeping her in place, as his narrow hips flexed with each deep push. A delicious bead of sweat ran down the cobbled network of his abdominal muscles, slowly making its way to the deep V etched into his hips, towards the thick cock that he was currently ramming into her mouth.

She drooled. She licked and laved and lapped. She didn’t care how messy or ridiculous she looked, because her man loved her and loved her on her knees in front of him.

“I couldn’t stop watching you talk,” he grumbled, “the first time I saw you. Your plump lips…Oh fuck, baby, you feel so, so good,” he rode her smoothly, with deep, expert strokes, “you wore that rose-tinted lipstick…and all I could think of afterward was those lips wrapped around my dick.”

She smiled over his member, lightly shaking her head, as much as her current position would allow.

“I am sorry, honey,” he smiled at her, “this pervy mind couldn’t think of anything else but getting my dick down your throat.”

And demonstrating just that, and the resolution of his dream, he pushed further.

“Alright?” he asked, carefully holding her jaw. She blinked her approval. He was unable to take his eyes off her, her lush lips wrapped tightly around the dark mass of him, her beautiful eyes tearing from pressure. He wiped the tears with his thumbs and then gave a brief nod, “give me those flowers, baby.”

Obviously, she couldn’t glance down, so she blindly grabbed a handful of flowers and handed them to him, her expression amused, a little surprised.

“What’s more romantic,” he murmured, stroking her hollowed cheeks and then pulling out a little, before pushing back in, “than putting pretty flowers into my Lainey’s hair,” and he plucked a small poppy from the heap, and pushed in into her hair, “while she deepthroats me?”

He was heavy and thick in her mouth, salty, delicious and familiar, and as he began thrusting firmly, the thick head hitting the back of her throat, Elain settled in for a ride. She wasn’t kidding when she asked for her throat to be raw by the end of it—she liked being sore somewhere in her body from him, at all times. Between her legs, inside her rectum, in her throat—it didn’t matter, though it was nice if it was everywhere, but she loved being marked by him in some way.

The hum and rumble in Azriel’s throat, that of masculine satisfaction and some kind of primal dominance made her so wet, she leaked down her thighs. But he didn’t tell her to touch herself, so she didn’t. He just fucked her throat steadily, the audible sound of her choking and sputtering around his cock and the satisfied snarls emanating from him, the only sounds around them. His hips rocked hard, pumping deep, as he garbled endearments and praise to her, “is that so good, honey? You feel amazing…”

She squeezed his thighs in affirmation. As he worked on her, he kept putting flowers in her hair, admiring her sucking and his work, “so gorgeous, baby. My beautiful girl…Good cock?”

“Mmmm,” she only managed, saliva bathing her chin and chest, her eyes rolling back with pleasure and exhaustion.

“Can you handle a little more?” he begged, “I don’t want to come yet, my love,” another flower in her hair. “I love you on your knees with my cock in her mouth.”

He set a brutal rhythm, muttered, “choke, baby…” and she did, gagging and panting over his member, the lack of oxygen making her pliant and obliging, her mouth existing for his pleasure. When they played a little rougher, he could request to squeeze her throat a little with his hand, while he choked her with his cock, but today, he was feeling romantic, as was she.

Her hair dripped with flowers of all kinds, as he fashioned her into some kind of Summer Lady. Or maybe a Dusk Lady, since the sun began its descent and shadows spread over the pretty little valley.

“Fuck me, you are so beautiful,” he grunted, looking down at her. “My flower girl, with my cock in her mouth. Bob a little, love, show me how much you like it,” he encouraged and she immediately began to bob her head  up and down on him, drool sliding down his shaft, her eyes pleading for his approval, which he gave generously.

He gently, kindly stroked her face, her throat, feeling his cock deep inside it, moving in her, rubbing at the indentation with his thumb. Then, he cupped her face between his large hands and murmured, “open up”, thumbs brushing over her damp cheeks, as tears slid down when he started to thrust intently, battering her throat. “My girl is sucking so well,” he was relentless now, pounding and pounding, an Elain thought that she might just pass out from the sensation, feeling lightheaded. Azriel had inhuman stamina when he was between her legs, but that also translated to when he was in her mouth, which meant he could ravage her completely. “I’ll feed you all the gelato myself, if you can suck a little more,” he promised with a smirk, pulling out completely. “Breathe,” he ordered, and she gulped in some air, before he thrust back inside, “are you tired?”

She shook her head ‘no’. She was never tired for him. She moaned, though his cock pushed down all sound with brutal, excited enthusiasm, as he cupped his balls tightly in his hand, readying to finally come. “Fuck, baby, you suck so well,” he squeezed her shoulder, stooping over her, the muscled of his abdomen twitching and tensing, his balls tight against her chin. Grabbing her shoulder with one hand, he cupped her under the jaw and kept her head still, as he exploded in her mouth. He poured down her throat with a pleased, blissful moan, throwing his head back, pumping harshly and erratically, filling her mouth over and over. She sucked and drank, swallowing quickly, gluttonously. Azriel always tasted heavenly, but perhaps it was something about being in Italy and all the fruit and wine that they’ve been consuming, but she couldn’t get enough of him now. He shot rope after rope down her throat and she lapped it all with pleasure. He dropped on his knees, exhausted, his cock still in her mouth, and she stroked and caressed his body soothingly, swallowing the last of him.

“Gods, Elain,” was all he managed, as he finally withdrew in an endlessly long pull from her lips.

She gasped, and licked her lips, before placing a loving, playful kiss on the pink, wet head of the shaft.

“Did you have fun, my love?” she cooed tenderly, as Azriel slumped on the blanket, head her on her lap.

“Baby, why do you spoil me like this?” he moaned, reaching for her bare plump breast and cupping lightly.

“Probably because I love you more than it’s prudent,” she smiled, her voice hoarse. “More than anything. Love you like I didn’t know I could love anybody. Also,”

“Yes?”

His chest constricted from her simple admissions, from the pure earnestness of her words, from the love that was shining in her brown eyes. He was undeserving of this woman, of her overwhelming love for him, of everything that she gave him so selflessly. But he listened and listened, because everything she told him was like a balm on all the wounds of his soul, and music to his heart.

Her lips were gorgeously, obscenely swollen, and he dragged his thumb over their plumpness. She added, “you are very hot.”

“Ahhh,” he chuckled. “So you are using me for my body?”

“I’d be stupid not to use you for your body. You got one hell of a body, my mysterious, shadowy Azriel.”

“Well, flower girl, you go ahead and use my body as much as you want, for anything you desire. It’s yours.”

He kissed her hand. Then, reached up and kissed her pretty pink nipple.

“As is my heart,” he added softly. “Anything you want. It’s all yours.”

She lay next to him, both of them sprawled in the blanket of flowers. She picked a poppy and stuck it behind his ear.

“Pretty boy Azriel.”

He propped his cheek and turned to face her. She was still covered in flowers, from all his handiwork.

“We are good together, aren’t we?” she murmured, laying her hand on his neck.

“We are. We are very good together, Lainey.”

She bit her swollen lip and then said, voice quiet, a little uncertain,

“Maybe you want to marry me?” she proposed.

He stilled, waiting for more.

She squeezed the back of his neck a little tighter and continued, no stopping her now, “I know we were thinking later, maybe next y-,”

“Yes,” he nodded, “yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, Elain, I want to marry you now.”

She gasped, tears of joy moistening her eyes, “In Florence?” she begged.

“Yes. In Florence,” he cupped her face in his. “Let’s go get married!”

[put-me-in-a-movie-mp3]

Hi, may I have a ship for stranger things, the maze runner, & harry potter (preferably the marauders era but u can do both eras if u want). I go by she/her and am bi with no preference so any gender is fine.

I’m about 5’5, dark blue eyes, medium length hair thats kinda too dark to be dirty blonde but not so dark that its light brown with slightly lighter blonde highlights throughout. Ive been told I typically wear what would be considered 90s type of style but leaning away from more feminine things tho I’m not opposed to dresses and all. 

I do get pretty anxious when thrown in certain situations rather that be talking to a group of people or just one person. But on occasion and definitely when I get to know someone I never stop talking. I am a ranter and rambler which means I could be ranting about something that happened and then start talking about something else that may or may not be related to the original subject. Basically I will always find something to talk about though I do enjoy listening to other people talk. I am considered the mom friend because I tend to be the most logical. Im also a very determined, stubborn person who usually is kinda pessimistic but still has a huge imagination. And despite all the anxiety I am usually a relatively confident person and am not afraid to take up for anyone I care about. Also I am pretty good in school despite having a kinda bad memory. Also an INTJ, Sagittarius, and Ravenclaw. 

I absolutely love writing and have for the longest time rather that be random original stories I make up or the various fanfics I have(lol). I also love drawing and painting and recently realized I’m actually pretty good at making art related to animals and the occasional landscape. I’ve also been a big music fan since I was a kid, I honestly dont know what I would do without it. I also really enjoy reading when I get the chance, like I could spend hours getting consumed by whatever I’m reading. Which also travels into me when I’m watching things. As in I spend a good bit of time just binge watching new or old shows. I also really like walking around and enjoying nature. Theres a few nature trails I love going on and would go to the zoo every weekend if I had the chance. Which also goes along to my love for animals. Also I do like going to random places with my friends. 

And thats about all I can think of to say, hope it wasnt too much lol. But anyways, thanks in advance :)

Here is who I ship you with! :)

Sorry this took forever, hope you like it!

Stranger Things

Eddie Munson

Eddie adores you. You both talk to each other all the time! Whenever one of you gets upset the other person will listen to the rant and then give their feedback lol. He loves that you get very passionate about things and admires how intelligent you are because he is not that intelligent himself. You tend to help him with his studies and you get him into reading. He always sees you with a book in your nose and Eddie being Eddie gets curious and you end up telling him about the book. He goes behind your back and secretly buys the book and reads it. You also love watching tv shows/movies together. You both have different tastes. He likes more horror and comedy movies and you tend to go after ones that you have already read the book about. Eddie would defiantly get you into music and he would show you his vinyl collection and he'd inform you on all the best rock bands. (also if your comfortable drop fanfic names and I will defiantly read them! <3)

Maze Runner

Newt

I think Newt would fall in love with you without you even noticing. He would be in awe with how perfect you are to him. He just thinks you are the sweetest soul ever that he loves with all his heart. He always looks out for you and makes sure your okay. He also loves to admire your art work and he could listen to you talk for hours. You are the smartest person he knows and he also helps calm down your anxiety a lot. Since you love animals so much you defiantly couldn't be a butcher so you would be a gardener with Newt which is where you two met each other.

Harry Potter (Marauders Era)

Severus Snape

I think that you would remind him or resemble Lily Potter a bit, which is why Snape fell for you. He loves how sweet you are and loves how passionate you are about things. He loves to read what you're currently reading at the time and he loves to admire you drawings. He might even steal a couple of drawings that you have scramble across you dorm without you knowing so he can have some for himself. You and him often take walks out and around Hogwarts and admire the nature of how beautiful it is. I could defiantly see both of you meeting while you are giving a presentation and all the sudden it gets really awkward so you keep talking and talking and then Snape helps you end the presentation without making worse than it could be.

[greenghostlyjekyll]

Starlight Express Characters' Corn Nut Ratings 🚂✨

rated by @smarticaleparticales , Aka Dr. Throw Rounds If You Disagree MD. Who doesn't know much about Stex outside of the bits I've told them. This is based mostly on first impression of seeing the character.

Rusty the steam engine: hmmmmmmmmmmm he looks like shy boy soooo original, don’t wanna give him anything too spicy

Greaseball the diesel engine : he gets none, he looks like an asshole

Electra the electric engine: there isn’t a corn nut worthy enough literally nothing could be as perfect

Poppa Mccoy : BBQ looks like he’d genuinely enjoy them, he seems sweet

Belle the sleeping car: i only have a ring…does she like ring flavored cornnuts? [so your rating is a marriage proposal?] Yes.

Pearl the observation car: oooooo jalapeño she can eat spicer if she wanted tbh. [lol goes to give her boyfriend a kiss but uh oh jalapeño.] AW NO WAIT POOR THING THE ORIGINAL IS ALREADY PROBABLY TOO SPICY--

Dinah the dining car: she can get ranch ones

Buffy the buffet car and Ashley the smoking car: they’d share the nacho corn nuts

Duvay the sleeping car: she seems sweet, she could get the Chile picante ones

Carrie the luggage van: looks like she thinks she can handle jalapeño flavored but she really can only handle bbq

Belle the bar car: gets ranch bc she looks like she’s cool af

Dustin the big hopper and Flat-top the brick truck: they'd share cheddar cheese ones

The Rockies: they seem hella goofy they get the party mix

The Hip Hoppers: i’ll give them whatever Rusty dropped eating, they can’t tell. Put ‘em in a bowl and sprinkle popcorn butter powder they won’t know

CB the red caboose: he gets original dipped in windex and draino, he wouldn’t know.

Joule the dynamite truck, Volta the freezer truck, Wrench the repair truck, Purse the money truck, and Krupp the armaments truck: i’m gonna just create a gay mix and give it too them

Killerwatt the security truck: he looks like he’d tell me my cornnuts were contraband

Espresso the Italian national champion: he is adorable. I would make him a pasta flavored cornnut. I will die for Espresso.

Brexit the British national champion: oh fuck this guy. He looks like he’d correct me on not calling my fries chips. Unsalted cornnut or crisps.

Hashamoto the Japanese national champion: his face paint makes him look ready to cry tbh. he’d get a seaweed flavored.

Ruhrgold the German national champion: HNG. HEAR ME OUT. [WHAT?] JUST LISTEN. HANG ON. [HUN.] JUST. I HAVE NO REAL DEFENSE BUT LIKE WAIT. DONT PUT ME IN HORNY JAIL I HAVE A LICENSE. [Still giving this engine a holy water corn nut?] Honestly its for me chief. [Lmao.] LOOK I WASNT PREPARED TO SIMP FOR A FUCKING TRAIN.

Turnov the Russian national champion: the drama. He gets sweet and sour corn nuts.

Bobo the French national champion: Bobo looks like a hobo. Viva la fuck you France. [Im guessin no corn nut for him then?] He gets one with all the flavor licked off.

BONUS (post 2018 rewrites)

Elektra the electric engine: to hell. Absolutely not. Not my Electra. Put him back in the depths. Where tf is the flavor? this is the definition of gentrification.

Momma Mccoy: y'know what i love it. The spunk is there.

Pearl the first class carriage: why are they unseasoning the trains

Caboose: a swift kick to the train nuts and force fed windex/draino corn nuts

Voltar the freezer truck: hmmmm i mean not bad. Its not good but its there. Its so plain.

Coco the French national champion: she looks mean. [She is.] I fucking knew it.

[in-my-feels-probably]

Hi!! Congrats on 1.5k!! May I have a romantic marauders era option 2 match up please? I go by she/her and am bi with no preference, so any gender is fine.

I’m about 5’5, dark blue eyes, medium length hair thats kinda too dark to be dirty blonde but not so dark that its light brown with slightly lighter blonde highlights throughout. Ive been told I typically wear what would be considered 90s type of style but leaning away from more feminine things tho I’m not opposed to dresses and all. 

I do get pretty anxious when thrown in certain situations rather that be talking to a group of people or just one person. But on occasion and definitely when I get to know someone I never stop talking. I am a ranter and rambler which means I could be ranting about something that happened and then start talking about something else that may or may not be related to the original subject. Basically I will always find something to talk about though I do enjoy listening to other people talk. I am considered the mom friend because I tend to be the most logical. Im also a very determined, stubborn person who usually is kinda pessimistic but still has a huge imagination. And despite all the anxiety I am usually a relatively confident person and am not afraid to take up for anyone I care about. Also I am pretty good in school despite having a kinda bad memory. Also an INTJ, Sagittarius, and Ravenclaw. 

I absolutely love writing and have for the longest time rather that be random original stories I make up or the various fanfics I have(lol). I also love drawing and painting and recently realized I’m actually pretty good at making art related to animals and the occasional landscape. I’ve also been a big music fan since I was a kid, I honestly dont know what I would do without it. I also really enjoy reading when I get the chance, like I could spend hours getting consumed by whatever I’m reading. Which also travels into me when I’m watching things. As in I spend a good bit of time just binge watching new or old shows. I also really like walking around and enjoying nature. Theres a few nature trails I love going on and would go to the zoo every weekend if I had the chance. Which also goes along to my love for animals. Also I do like going to random places with my friends. 

And thats about all I can think of to say, hope it wasnt too much lol. But anyways, thanks in advance :)

hi!

thanks for participating :)

since you have no gender preference, i’ll tell you who i ship you with out of both the boys and the girls, and then do the full thing for who i think is better suited for you.

i ship you with remus and marlene! i’m gonna go with remus for this, hope that’s alright :)

i think remus is a lot like you. he can handle himself in social situations, but he’s also pretty well off on his own. he knows how to entertain himself and not push his own social boundaries. and his friends would respect that when he got a little distant, knowing he needed a little time alone. but i do think it would make him a bit lonely. and he’d be lonely, even when he didn’t feel like doing anything. he’d have you there to be with him, even if you weren’t talking. you’d just enjoy each other’s presence. and as you got closer and you opened up to him a bit more, he’d find it a lot easier to talk to you, in a group situation or not. and he’d know your tells for when you were all hanging out in a group, and he’d know when you were getting overwhelmed or uncomfortable, and you’d do the same for him. it would be easy to tell what the other person needed. overall, he’d really enjoy talking to you. he’d find your rambling cute, and he’d love talking about all your niche little interests.

i’m not sure what remus would think of art, but he definitely enjoys reading. he’d love hearing about all your story ideas, and he’d help you with them. he’d also love hanging out and listening to music with you. it would probably be one of the main things you talked about. it’s one of his biggest interests, and he’d be happy to have you indulge him on it.

idk why i keep getting stuck on this, but i feel like there would be a little academic rivals trope going on between you too. even if one of you didn’t do as well academically as the other, there’s still be some sort of competitiveness between you both. really, it was just an excuse for remus to tease you and mess with you. he didn’t really care whether or not you scored better than him. but it would for sure be an ego boost for you when you did.

—

he’d find you one day in the library where you were working on a story idea you had been talking about a few days before. he’d smirk as he sat down, putting his things on the table next to you.

“studying, huh? looks like you need it after that last exam.”

he’d chuckle as you shoved him, picking up your notebook. “oh, piss off! i’m writing, remus—not studying. and i didn’t score all that low below you anyway.”

“i know,” he’d smile, reaching over to gently slide your notebook over. “just teasing, love. what are you writing about? that idea you told me about last week?”

you’d immediately light up, excitedly explaining to him. he’d listen as you told him about what you had written so far, every once in a while piping in to give you new ideas. he couldn’t help but smile, loving how excited you got talking about your work.

you’d pause after a minute, setting your book aside. “didn’t you say you were gonna study with sirius? go ahead, im good here.”

he’d shake his head, pulling out some of his textbooks. “he’ll be alright without me…it’s you i’m more worried about.”

he’d dodge another hit and you’d feign anger, but you both couldn’t help but smile.

—

thanks again for participating! hope you liked this :)

[illyaana]

Tags: Angst (like a lot), Fluff (like a lot), Kaminari Denki x Reader (shoulder-length hair pls, tq), Binaural

Synopsis: You and Denki are childhood friends. When you were young, you two found this little meadow filled with wildflowers. Who'd thought your safe haven would bring back such painful feelings?

Word Count: 2812

Dont forget to check out the main masterlist of the event hosted by @kuroos-babygirl over here!

⋯⋯ ⫍ Masterlist ◍ Navigation ⫎ ⋯⋯

The meadow you both crouched on glowed a gold hue as your fingers grazed the soft petals of the tall wildflowers, its stems rubbing against your sides. You eyed how the soft colour dusted itself on the peach skin of the boy before you, his entranced gaze stuck on the yellow and black-coloured butterfly fluttering its wings on the white-coloured flower. You enjoyed the bright smile adorned on the innocent male as he saw the now flying butterfly dance in the pale blue sky.

When’s the last time you both did this? - just walking around this little haven you both found together a year back?

Your six-year-old self reflected on all the memories they made with the seven-year-old in front of them.

It all began here - this little prairie.

Your first friend, your first wound, your first fight, your first day-out; it all took place in this land of vast greenery dusted yellow by blackeyed susans, corn marigold and bird's-foot trefoil.

It is all thanks to the adventurous, little blonde boy in front of you.

“Why are you staring, Y/N?” Denki said, nudging you.

“Just looking at the flowers, that’s all.”

A good lie, Y/N - a skilful lie.

He looked at your finger, eyeing it. Soon your hands were in his, the soft pad of his fingers trailing on the small lines of your hands. Each crevice was examined by that soft gaze of his, playing with your soft skin. His finger stopped at the scar painted on the fleshy part of your palm, a sulk forming on his lips.

“Was this from that time I dared you to jump from that tree?” He asked, guilt laced in his whispers.

It was, but you didn’t want him to know.

“Don’t worry, Denks - it wasn’t from that dare,” you say as you take your hands away from his grip, “I picked up a rock and there was a sharp end and it cut through my skin.”

He pulled your hand back into his, stretching the skin around the scar. He tried looking for clues to make sure you weren’t lying, a stressed look evident on his face.

You chuckled, gripping the side of his cheek and pinching it.

He looked at your radiant smile and all his worries washed away.

He let go of your hand and gripped your cheek in his left hand. His thumb began to rub small circles on your cheek, admiring how you leaned into his touch.

He loved how you were so at peace and calm when you were with him. You had no qualms in wasting hours listening to his dreams and aspirations, intervening once in a while to expand on his little ideas.

But you - right now, like this - is his favourite of it all.

You looked like an angel, the light from the Sun lighting your soft skin. The flowers and the very ends of your hair softly swished against the wind, forming such beautiful scenery as he took in the view unravelling in front of him.

He wondered how those flowers would look against your fingers, your hair, your ears…

He wondered how you’d look dripping in flowers.

“Sit down.”

Denki eyed the ground beneath him, looking for flowers that reminded him of you. The softness you brought, the light mood you formed whenever you were around him, the warmth you radiated whenever you were with him - he kept it all in his head as he saw the flowerbeds filled with flowers of different species.

His eyes stopped at the Black-eyed Susans that swished with the wind.

He instantly grabbed handfuls of the dainty-looking flower, hoping he had enough for the idea he had in his head.

Using his long nails, he cut the stem of the flower right down in the middle. He split one of the sections again, making three strips out of a stem. He then slowly began to braid the stems together, weaving them into a long strip.

“Stick your ring finger out, Y/N.”

You let him wrap that small strap around your finger, a determined gaze focused on the base of it.

He then inserted the end of the weaved strip into a section of the strip, securing its shape.

He took the rest of the flowers he collected and put them in his pocket as he walked behind you.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“Let me do this! I have an idea,” he said, happiness lacing his words.

In a huff of annoyance, you agreed.

He began to braid the two front pieces of your hair, slowly adding the flowers he collected. He made sure that the stems were hidden behind your luscious hair. Once he finished braiding them both, he brought them to the back of your head, tying them together with the hair tie on your wrist.

“Are you finally done?” You ask, turning to face him.

You stared at his eyes focused on you, a small blush dusting his cheeks.

Angel.

“Yeah. Thanks for letting me do this, Y/N,” he replied, covering his cheeks with his arm.

You looked like an angel to him. The way your eyes twinkled, your soft lips, your cute nose, your soft skin, your gaze - it was all so perfect to him.

“Y/N,” he started, “Promise me when we get older, we’ll marry each other?”

Your eyes widen as you quickly stand up in shock.

“The hell, Denki?!” You felt blood rushing to your cheeks, “You just can’t say that!”

“I think you’re the only one that can handle me - after all, you’re still here,” he says as he rubs his chin.

“Denki, life doesn’t work like that.”

“And you know how my life is going to work? Knowing me, I’d be single until I’m 23-years old if we don’t make this promise. I’d most probably have a sugar baby-”

“Stop,” you say, holding back your laughter, “Is that your plan if you don’t get into a relationship by 23?”

“...maybe.”

You began laughing, clutching onto your stomach as you stared at him.

“Stop laughing, okay!” he says, annoyed.

“Well, at least you have goals-”

“Y/N!” He says, hitting your back.

You take a deep breath as you recollect your thoughts.

Maybe a life with him won’t be so bad.

“If I can prevent you from thinking of being a sugar daddy that early in life, then sure; we can get married.”

He smiled, grabbing your hands.

“Thank you, Y/N!”

You both hold hands as you walk out of the meadow.

“I’m picturing you with a college girl at 65-year-”

“Stop.”

.

.

.

“You’re finally back!” said Denki as he jumped into your arms.

“Yeah, I am.”

You looked at the now pro-hero in your hands. You chuckled when you felt his small grip on the back of your loosely fit university hoodie. He pressed his head against your chest, nuzzling into the soft cotton. A small hum left his lips as you ruffled his blonde hair - signalling how comfortable he felt in your hands.

God, you missed him - it felt so wrong to leave him right after graduating from UA.

However, you have become a skilled inventor - no one could doubt that. Thanks to the guidance of David Shield, you’ve made your name in the inventing world. You came back to Mustafu to build your brand - hopefully alongside your childhood friend.

“So, Chargebolt,” you teased, “Congrats on getting into the top 10 of the Hero chart! I was shocked when I found out that you - of all people - got in.”

“Hey,” He hit the back of your head, “I’m a good hero, okay?”

“I sense favouritism but okay,” you teased again.

“Not very good of you as an up and coming inventor to tease a pro-hero.”

“So the friend label is gone? Understood, sir. Have a great day,” you say as you push him off of you.

“Fine, fine, fine. Come in.”

You walk into Denki’s new apartment and a flush of memories come.

You eyed the small pictures he hung on the wall, the little trinkets he kept on his coffee table and the way he arranged his kitchen. It all reminded you of his former home - the home near that little meadow.

You miss it - you both did.

You took out the little flower ring he made all those years ago and placed it in his hands.

“Remember this?” You ask.

“You kept it?” He said, smiling, “I can’t believe you did!”

“Yeah. I book-pressed it the minute I went back,” you say, chuckling, “Y’know, I still think about that little promise we made in that meadow from now and then.”

“What promise?”

You eyed the metal band around his ring finger.

He remembers - he definitely remembers. After all, he was the one who made you agree to it.

“You didn’t tell me we were having guests, Denki.”

Your eyes fell to Jirou walking out of a room and wrapping her arms around his waist from the back. She pressed her head against his neck, her hair brushing against it. He smiled, leaning into the newfound warmth she gave.

You saw the same metal ring around her left ring finger. The same gem, the same design, the same shape - everything.

“I forgot to tell you, didn’t I? I’m engaged to Jirou! - We’re getting married later this year.”

Of course, he forgot. It was just a simple promise you both made when you were kids. It meant nothing - nothing at all.

“I’m happy for you, Denki - I really am.”

You really were.

You are happy that he finally met someone who loved him despite seeing all his flaws.

You are happy Jirou managed to see what you saw in Denki - a loveable, amazing soul with a heart of gold.

You just wished you didn’t hold onto that promise.

You wish you threw away that rotting ring when you had the chance.

You wish you never went to that meadow.

You wish you never met Denki - not like that.

You wish you never fell in love with him.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Denki said as he hugged you again.

You don’t want him to hug you.

You wanted distance - you wanted to go back to I-Island.

You don’t want to be here.

You tried to pry Denki off of you, but you couldn’t - his grip on you was too strong.

“Denki, you’re choking me,” you say whilst fake-laughing.

You looked at Jirou who smiled at his display of affection towards you.

She trusts you - she knows how much you mean to him.

You don’t deserve it - her trust is wasted on you.

You are in love with her future husband - the very person who is hugging you as tight as they can.

“Denki, they look so uncomfortable - get off,” she said, patting her shoulder.

You want to get out of here.

You need to.

“I think I’ll head to my hotel room, Denks,” you say as you grab your bags.

“But-”

“Denki,” you say as you push him off of you angrily, “I need to go, ok?”

You look at his torn expression and guilt hits you.

But it was his fault - all of this was.

He isn’t meant to cry - you are.

And here he is, tearing just at the sight of your angry expression.

“What’s wrong, Y/N? Did something happen? You seemed okay when you came earlier…”

Stop crying, Denki.

“There’s nothing wrong, Kaminari. I just need to check into my hotel room, that’s all.”

Kaminari.

“Do you want me to drive you there? I-”

“It’s okay, Kaminari. I’ll get a cab.”

Kaminari.

“Y/N, we’re good, right?”

“Why would you think we aren’t, Kaminari?”

Kaminari.

You walked out of their apartment, tears trailing down your eyes.

.

.

.

You stood in the meadow you met Kaminari, eyes closed. You took in the fresh air brushing against your skin as the smell of fresh flowers invades your nose. Your now long hair felt weightless as the wind lifted it, giving you wings.

“How do I look, Y/N?”

You stared at Denki in his black tux and smiled.

He looked amazing, as usual.

His skin looked amazing against the obsidian-coloured suit. The sunlight hit his skin so well it looked like it was glowing. His hair was tousled, giving you a full view of his undercut. You chuckled when you saw the black streak of his hair hidden under his natural yellow hair - it looked as if he was trying to hide his foolish mistakes when he was a kid. You looked at his small piercing now adorned with a purple gem, reminding you of his fiance.

He’s finally getting married.

He’s getting married in the meadow where you both spent your younger years.

He’s getting married to someone else in the meadow where you both spent your younger years.

“You look good, Kaminari.”

“Why are you calling me Kaminari? Call me Denki.”

“I can’t, Kaminari.”

It would bring back too many memories.

Painful memories.

“I don’t know why you can’t, though?”

“It doesn’t feel right…”

“You’ve been calling me Denki or Denks ever since we were kids, Y/N! Hearing you call me Kaminari sounds wrong…”

“Leave it, Kaminari,” you say, hiding your feelings behind a laugh.

“No, I won’t. Call me Denks, Y/N.”

Stop.

“Later, Kaminari.”

“Not Kaminari - Denki.”

Stop.

“I promise I’ll call you that later, now go get ready.”

“I am not leaving until you call me Denki.”

Stop.

“Kaminari, just go.”

“I don’t know why you stopped calling me Denki ever since you saw Jirou that day - it doesn’t make sense. You were my first friend that called me Denks, you made that nickname - Why are you calling me by the nickname you made?”

Stop talking about it, please.

“Please, Kaminari - let it go.”

He grabbed your wrist, pulling you towards him.

“I won’t until you tell me why. Did I do something wrong? Just tell me, Y/N. You know I won’t hate you no matter what happens.”

“Just drop it, ok?” You say, anger lacing your words.

“Oh my god, Y/N! Just tell me-”

“Fine.”

You forced your wrist out of his grip, making him fall on the couch.

“You wanna know why? It’s because I thought you remembered the promise we made as kids. I hoped you felt the way I did about it; I hoped you knew why I never got into a relationship.”

You gripped your phone tightly, not wanting to lash out at him anymore.

Why did you do that? Why today?

He’s supposed to be happy today.

“What promise, Y/N?”

A dark smile graced your lips.

What were you thinking? Shouting at him won’t make him remember.

Tears began to fall from your eyes as you lifted your face to see his worried face.

“It’s okay, Kaminari - don’t worry about it.”

“How can I not? You’re crying in front of me,” he said, tears forming in his eyes, “You weren’t meant to cry today.”

You weren’t either, Denki.

He got off the couch and began to hug you tightly. He pressed your head against his shoulder as he rubbed your back.

“Please don’t cry, Y/N.”

You gently push Denki and cup his face in your hands. You rub the tears from his eyes as he pressed his cheek onto your left hand.

“You okay, Denks?”

Just for today, you’ll give what he wants.

Just today.

“There it is!” He said, jumping on you, “Don’t you dare call me anything but Denks again.”

“Mhmm.”

You hugged him one last time before heading to your seat, waiting for the ceremony to commence.

.

.

.

You saw how happy he stood at the altar with Kirishima by his side. You chuckled as you looked at the small banter happening between the two of them, pissing off the priest slightly. Bakugo snapped at the two of them very often, telling them to keep quiet.

Still the mother of the group.

Soon after, Jirou walked in.

She wore a white dress that tugged on her amazing figure, surrounded by lace. Dandelions surrounded her, flying in the air, encasing her in pure beauty. They danced around her as her orchestra of young kids sang and played instruments for her.

You saw how tears formed in both of their eyes as they stared at each other.

Tears of joy encapsulating how much they’ve dreamed of this moment.

While yours that showed joy hid everlasting longing.

You feel cheated - not by Denki, but the black-eyed Susans that tickled your feet.

You feel cheated by the black-eyed Susans that cleared a path for Jirou to meet her beloved.

You feel cheated by the black-eyed Susans Denki used when he was young to make you that damn ring.

Your tears watered the devilish flowers painted yellow and black that stood beneath you, taking in your pain as a drug.