#i skirted around being interested for MONTHS cause i was like NO i have OTHER fixations i want to focus on

[rinzydings]

Hey @bamsara! I just recently got back into fnaf after being away from the fandom for like 5 years and these heckin jesters finally got their claws into me after skirting around them and my roommate gushing about them for a few months. I asked my roomie for your Solar Lunacy fic after seeing some of your drawings and proceeded to binge it in like 4 days 8U I don’t usually read Y/N things but uh I fell in love with your writing/drawings SO BEHOLD I join the Y/N club with a semi-self insert for your fic cause ✨brainrot real ✨ and I love the stuff you put out!! Stay awesome! :D

[hurtblossom]

You belong with me L.N.4

Pairing : Lando Norris x Driver!Reader (Female)

Summary : Driver reader is in love with little Lando Norris, but he is too oblivious to notice ?

Warning : ANGST + Insecure reader + Terrible english (feel free to correct me) + Relatively short. Use of she/her pronounce

INSPIRED BY THE SONG YOU BELONG WITH ME, BY TAYLOR SWIFT

Materlist

You've always had a soft spot for Lando Norris, from the moment you first saw him at one karting race, when you were just kids. You grew up together, along with other drivers, so you were on the first line to see the little boy you once knew, turn into one hell of a man. But it wasn't his beauty that caught your attention. It was rather how mature he was at such a young age, how he was shy around all the other boys during karting, or how he always managed to have a good heart.  

You'll always remember the day you met him; it was during your first ever karting competition. You've waited for this moment a long time, and trained hard, with your father's help, to achieve your goals. Unfortunately, nothing went as planned, and you ended up being covered in mud, and disqualified, due to someone pushing you off the track (it was just an inchident, on the race).

You'll always remember that little boy, coming towards you and sitting next to you, telling you how much of a great racer you are, and how you should beat yourself up over one loss. When you turned to look at him, the only thing you could see was his smile.

He raised one hand, which made you flinch a little, and he carefully brought it to your face, whipping the tears. That was the first ever memory you had of Lando Norris, and ever since then, you've been growing a crush on him, to which he had been oblivious.  

Back to the story ...  

You're on the phone with your girlfriend, she's upset  She's going off about something that you said  Cause she doesn't get your humor like I do 

You've been a driver for McLaren for a little less than 3 months now, they were kind enough to give you a chance, as the first female, racing in Formula 1, against men.  

You often saw Lando, on his phone, texting away, or just talking on the phone with someone. You didn't want to pry or to be weird by asking questions. You were only his teammate after all, so you just watched him, from afar.

You noticed that he always seemed to be upset when on the phone, always huffing and arguing with the person on the other side of it. You could hear small bits of the conversation, something about him being rude or whatever.  

"You should stop staring, it's becoming quite obvious." Max said, sitting beside you.  

"I don't know what you're talking about." You said, burying your eyes on your phone.  

"I'm serious Y/n/n, it's been years, when are you going to give up?" He asked.  

" Again, I don't know what you're talking about." You replied, sitting up. "Now, if you don't mind, I have places to be "  

"The sooner you'll get over it, the better. " Yelled Max, while watching you disappear.  

But she wears short skirts, I wear T-shirts  She's Cheer Captain, and I'm on the bleachers  Dreaming about the day when you wake up and find  That what you're looking for has been here the whole time 

The first time you met Magui, Lando's girlfriend, you couldn't help but compare yourself with her. The way she dresses, how she talked, how she laughed, her posture. Everything she had, everything she was, you envied, because you were never that. Deep down, you wished to be like her, and even deeper than that, you wanted to know if Lando would even spare you a glance, if you looked just a little bit like Magui.  

McLaren was having a little brunch, where all the team was invited, including plus ones. You were all sitting around a table, talking about the previous races, laughing and just having a good time, all together. It was loud.

It was now that Lando cracked a joke, and everybody laughed that you realized that Magui wasn't really interested in what was happening, only focusing of her phone.

You looked back at Lando and saw the disappointment on his face. You made direct eye contact, and you smiled at him, waving slowly your hand, to which he did the same, you couldn't help but think that she really wasn't for him.

What you didn't see was Magui's face after that. And what you surely didn't know was that after that lunch, you were the topic of an argument between those two.  

If you could see that I'm the one who understands you  Been here all along, so why can't you see?  You belong with me 

The last GP left Lando in pieces, feeling like a disappointment, like he couldn't do anything right, win anything. During that last race, he ended up DNFing, while you were P3. Once out of the car, you were smiling, but it slowly faded away when you noticed your team's behavior.  

"What's happening?" You asked one of your coworkers after taking off your helmet.  

"Lando DNFed, and we can't find him anywhere." You've informed.  

Technically, you had to go straight to media, to talk about your race, but at that moment, your whole attention was focused on finding Lando.  

Walking around the paddock, you bumped into Magui, you didn't miss the dirty look she gave you.  

"Have you seen Lando?" You asked her.  

"Why are you looking for my boyfriend?" She asked in return. "Haven't you understood yet? He doesn't want you. Stop being so clingy with him, stop laughing at his stupid jokes, and stop looking at him all the damn time. " 

"What on earth are you talking about?" You asked, confused.  

" Don't act stupid. You know exactly what I'm talking about. He told me how much of a creep you are. Leave him alone. He's too nice to tell you that himself." She explained, getting angrier every time she pronounced a word.  

" He told you that?" You whispered.  

" That and many other things." She spoke. "Leave my boyfriend alone. Understood?"  

"Yeah. Alright. I will." You said, trying to get as far away as possible from that woman.  

"And for the recorded. He blames you for today." She finally said, before leaving.  

Tears were going down your face, as you continued to walk. That's when you saw him, sitting alone, far away from any cameras, his face buried in his hands. You dried your tears with the back of your hand, before joining him. You took a seat next to him, silently, not daring to look at him.  

"Don't beat yourself too much." You said, catching his attention. "It wasn't your fault; you did the best you could."  

"I failed, again." He said, looking straight forward.  

"You're a fantastic racer, Lando. One fail doesn't define you. You have many wins coming your way. I know it." You explained, looking at him.  

"How can you be so sure?" He asked 

" Because I know you." You simply said, smiling at him. "And I know you're going to do big things."  

At that moment, his face turned, and his eyes studied your face, his smiled disappeared, replaced by a frown.  

"Were you crying?" He asked, noticing the redness of your eyes.  

" Um, yeah." You whispered. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I wont bother you anymore Lando." 

"Bother me? What are you talking about?" He asked, confusion visible on his face, but you just couldn't deal with that now.  

"I have to go." You stood up quickly, making your way towards the paddock. Lando stood up quickly, calling after you, but you just didn't turn around. 

part 2 🩷

[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

content: perv!wonwoo (not super pervy but i tried my best 🫡), smut, f reader, penetrative sex, established relationship (situatuonship is mentioned but idk lets assume they're exclusive just bc i can), he's kinda a dick, etc.

wc: 905

masterlist

streamer!wonwoo perv!wonwoo whose audience believes him to be a golden boy. simply a polite yet charming guy whos into video games, who just so happens to be insanely handsome. his thick rimmed glasses and wavy hair almost covering his eyes, accompanied by those wide shoulders, was able to catch the attention of all of those looking for a pretty face to look at while consuming content from their favorite video games (although many keep their eyes glued to the tiny view of wonwoo on the corner of the screen rather than the game itself).

the people watching him through the screen dont even see the half of it, though, not knowing how much of a perv he is when in real life. not so much a respectful and charming guy, but a degenerate who keeps up the act for appearances. after all, that is how he first got to you a few years back, when you, one of the few who had been a loyal viewer since before his channel blew up, decided that you just HAD to have the pretty nerd rambling about league of legends on stream.

after a few (okay, maybe more than a few) attempts at catching his attention through leaving various suggestive comments, wonwoo finally decided to take a look at your account, noting an instagram linked on your bio. after seeing that the desperate commentator he had taken a liking to seeing always punctual in his streams was a pretty girl in his area, his mind went straight to the gutter, finding his hands moving on their own to send you a message detailing his interest.

a few months later and you found yourself in a months-long situationship with the streamer, having him hit you up almost every other day when he needed 'something warm warm to stick his dick in', as he so nicely put it as he had you sitting on top of him, cockwarming him while he gamed (off-stream, of course).

having a such a well paying stay at home job had many perks, including the ability to take any day off he wanted to fuck you into his bed, somehow managing to never scare you away with his very obvious obsession with your body, drawing orgasm after orgasm out of you with little to no regard for the exhaustion you'd feel after a few hours with him. somehow the roles had reversed, with him now being the one to continuously pursue you under the vice of getting under your pants every second he could.

"n-nonu fuck. slow down, i-" you whined as he senselessly bounced you up and down on his dick, rhythm completely lost a few rounds ago.

he practically growled at your complaint, "you asked for this when you showed up wearing that tiny excuse for a skirt while i was on stream."

"you asked me over-"

"for moral support, baby. not for you to parade yourself around me knowing i wouldnt be able to hold back from taking this pussy," he breathed out, angling you slightly differently, now causing you to whine even louder at your clit being stimulated by the friction.

"does your audience know how m- agh fuck. how much of a perv you are? leaving mid stream to get your dick wet?"

your brattiness causes him to disconnect your bodies, flipping yours over to put you on your hands and elbows and ramming himself into you with no warning.

"be thankful i'm fucking you of all people baby. be thankful this pussy has such a grip on me to get you on my bed every night," he sped up as he spoke filth into your ears.

wonwoo had a special way of making you feel like an object, something which you only enjoyed when it came to him. despite being such a fucking perv, you enjoyed the dynamic you had built, allowing him to play with your body however he saw fit as long as he made you cum. and jesus christ, did he.

"fuck," you felt the end coming near and began to push yourself back against him, grinding into him as much as you could despite his clammy hands having such a tight hold on your hips.

"im gonna make you cream all around me and then im gonna fill you up. okay, baby? then im gonna go back on stream while you keep my bed w- ah fuck. warm for me. if you're a good girl for me, i'll fuck you to sleep afterwards," he rasped out, losing his rhythm even further as he neared his own high.

a few more harsh thrusts later and you were creaming around him, tightening up so much that he, too, reached his peak, filling you up and letting go of your hips, causing you to fall flat against the mattress.

"fuck. baby, never show up like that here again. i almost died," he breathed out as he tried to do a decent job at cleaning you up a bit and tucking you under the covers.

despite his perverted treatment of your body, wonwoo was always sweet to you when his mind wasnt filled with sex (which admittedly wasnt often).

"you act as if i forced you to fuck me," you retaliate despite knowing you did wear that skirt with a specific purpose in mind.

"just shut up and go to sleep, baby. you'll need your energy back soon."

n/a: this is ass im rlly bad at writing men who r not obsessed with their s/o im sorry </33

[fayes-fics]

Vignette

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: An artist meet-cute in the park.

Warnings: none... this is the fluffiest of fluff

Word Count: 1.2k

Authors Note: Anon request fill (see HERE) about Benedict and an artist having a meet-cute in the park. Unbetaed. I hope you enjoy this, Nonny, and sorry it has taken so many months! <3

A wooden toy hoop whooshing inches from your knee interrupts your quiet refuge amid the flower gardens of Regents Park, breaking your intense concentration on your drawing and almost dropping your charcoal.

Seconds later, a pretty young girl of maybe eleven years old comes running after the errant object, her plaited hair bouncing, her blush pink dress swishing around her knees as she calls out an apology to you and retrieves the hoop from the nearby bush.

“What are you doing?” she asks, her face a picture of impish inquisition as she wanders back to your bench.

“I am drawing,” you smile benevolently; something about her mischievous spirit reminds you of your nieces.

“What are you drawing?” her grin somehow infectious.

“You see those roses there?” you point with your charcoal to a nearby white alba maxima rose bush, stems almost bowing under the weight of the heavily ruffled peach-tipped petals. “Those are in peak bloom, and I am attempting to capture them, their ephemeral beauty...”

“Are you any good?” 

You chuckle at her youthful bluntness, but just as you are tilting your work towards her, you are interrupted by a man rounding into this same quiet corner. 

“Hyacinth! Please refrain from injuring and bother…” his refined voice begins to chastise but suddenly grinds to a halt mid-sentence as soon as he catches sight of you.

But he is not the only one who has lost the power of speech. 

Something vaults hard in your stomach like you are plunging down an invisible chasm. He is handsome in a way you have never seen before in your twenty years on this earth: tall, with a strong jaw and a dandyish colourful outfit that fits him very well. 

There are a few moments where all you do is stare at each other, lips parted, before he appears to shake himself a fraction and bows his head in polite greeting.

“Where are my manners? I would like to apologise for my little sister almost causing you injury, Miss. The fault is entirely mine; I should not have let her play quite so spiritedly in a public park. I-I hope you are not injured?”

“N-Not at all; the hoop merely brushed my skirt. I am more than fine,” you assure hurriedly. “Mr….?”

“Bridgerton,” he offers, nodding to you in a more formal greeting.

You would know that name anywhere—one of the most esteemed families of the Ton. You instantly know he is not the Viscount, having seen him at society events, so you surmise this must be one of his younger brothers. Before you can offer your name, however, he speaks again. 

“You draw?” 

“Oh.. yes, yes… I-I do,” you stumble, a little taken aback by his question, even as you feel his sister’s gaze volleying between the two of you with a bemused expression.

“I draw too,” he explains, placing a hand over his sternum, the sunlight catching upon a signet ring on his little finger. 

“Oh…” you seem inordinately pleased to share such a hobby with this virtual stranger.

“I also know well that charcoal fingers are an occupational hazard..” he adds cordially as he catches you attempting to wipe the dark smears upon your hands with a rag. “May I see your work? If it is not too impudent of me to ask,” he adds modestly.

“I-I am not very good…” you fret, looking down at the partial image you see on your sketch pad. “Tis merely a pastime I use to escape…”

“Believe me, Miss…?”

“Y/l/n.”

“Believe me, Miss y/l/n, it is very much the case for me too - being that I am one of eight. Including such trouble-makers as this one,” he rolls his eyes affectionately as he signals to Hyacinth, who seems to be rapidly losing interest, distractedly spinning the hoop she holds. “Escaping is almost a full-time hobby for me…” 

You cannot help but giggle at his droll humour, and he seems delighted, his face lighting up as you hide a mild blush behind the back of your hand.

“May I?” his ask is so soft you cannot do anything but acquiesce.

“‘Tis just a small vignette…” you excuse meekly as you hand over your sketchpad, suddenly so nervous to hear his opinion. You have never shared your drawings with anyone before, but something about his affable demeanour makes you bold enough to do so.

He is quiet for some time. It feels like an age, even though it is likely only a matter of seconds, but still long enough that butterflies start to roil in your stomach.

“I did say it is just a hobby…” you titter nervously, looking away.

“It is beautiful…” he exhales quietly, tone filled with admiration as your eyes ping back to him.

Your heart flutters as he extols the virtues of your work, effusively admiring your use of shading to capture shadows and the lines you have used to denote the multitudinous layers of petals, his gracious hand gesturing over the picture as he speaks.

“You flatter me entirely too much, Mr Bridgerton…” you demure, even as you feel yourself blooming under his praise, just like the flower you have painstakingly attempted to capture. A warmth in your chest that seems to radiate out to glow all over.

“I assure you I do not,” he smiles, handing you back your sketch pad.

“Benedict,” Hyacinth whines, stamping her little boot on the grass, “you said we would play…”

“I do not wish to interrupt your family time,” you placate, pleased you have learned his first name.

“Hyacinth, I am sure Eloise said something about sandwiches; you want lunch, do you not?” Benedict responds, raising a pointed brow.

“Well, yes, but…”

“Run along then,” he pulls an exasperated face at her that again has you giggling, making a shooing gesture with his hands.

She sighs but departs with a dramatic flounce.

“Sadly, I must also depart; a family picnic indeed awaits. But if I may be so bold, I would very much like for us to meet again. If you would be amendable? With a chaperone, of course,” he adds hurriedly, keen to be gentlemanly. “I think perhaps we would have much to speak of… around art. And perhaps we could… draw together? Here?”

His proposal, so sweet and straightforward, has you rendered speechless again, heart leaping at the very thought.

“I…I would like that very much,” your honest confession out of your mouth before you can swallow it.

“As would I,” his response instant, his face beaming. “Would you be here, perchance, Thursday afternoon around this same time?”

“I would…” The hitch of excitement in your own voice unmistakable.

“Excellent!” his hazy blue eyes seem to dance in the sunlight as he respectfully tilts his head again. “I am so looking forward to it, Miss y/l/n…” are his parting words before he takes his leave.

“As am I, Mr Bridgerton…” you murmur belatedly, the words shared only with the fragrant roses surrounding you, swaying gently in the afternoon breeze.

Your stare lingers where he stood long after he has left, an excited buzz over your skin at the thought you have met a kindred, artistic spirit. And one so very handsome, too.

Join my taglist HERE

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[nerak-01]

Just...Pissed off Bestfriend!Ghost who can't get outta the friendzone...

TW: no direct smut ig, but its teasing and build up to smut. Ghost pinning over an oblivious reader.

This might get a second part if it does well, but who knows.

Imagine Ghost who prides himself in being subtle, unfazed, and mysterious. Except, he isn't around you. He'd been one of your closest friends since you both practically grew up together. Even when he joined to military, you made it a point to send letters and stay in touch. Ugh, that made it so much harder to not grow attached.

Ghost, or Simon, as you know him, would never out right tell you he was interested. Instead, he chose to drop hints. Maybe warding off any guy who looked at you too long wasn't the best hint, but it was crucial. Simon made an effort to keep his hands on you whenever he could. Whether that was a hug; a hand on your hips when he brushed passed you; or full blown cuddles on the couch when you guys watched movies.

Oh, he loved the cuddles. He had your whole body pressed against him as he occupied most of your attention. You were always so soft and warm. He always had to take a bathroom break half way through to relieve himself of a harder problem.

If you noticed how Simon began to change, you never mentioned it. This was now approaching your sixth month of this friends with cuddles non-sense. It wasn't like he wasn't your type! On a boring mission break, he might or might not have gone through your search history to find some enlightening Onlyfans subscriptions. He was both unimpressed and flattered when he saw how his body matched many of your most visited sites. Why pay to see other men's bodies when you could run your dainty hands over his? Simon Riley didn't get it.

Simon also couldn't fathom how you still hadn't taken the hint. He'd agreed to go clubbing with you as you chose to parade around in the sluttiest two piece he'd ever seen. Fuck. Why was your skirt so short anyway? Your top was basically lingerie with the mesh pieces and thin straps. Were you trying to grab his attention on purpose? Cause it...was kind of working... a little too well for his liking.

He hated how his eyes ghosted between your thighs before pulling away to look at the cock block who had you exhale an airy laugh. Your sounds were always angelic. He'd be lying to himself if he hadn't fantasized about the more sinister sounds he could draw out of you when you'd finally gotten the hint. Nevertheless, hearing it directed to someone else made his blood boil. Perhaps the other predicament was the fact that he knew that his eyes weren't the only ones lingering on you.

"Hey, darling, I think it's time we head out." Simon wasted no time, in two strides he was at your side with his arms wrapped protectively around you. He gazed down at the moron who looked a bit paler before the guy made an effort to wrap up your conversation. The idiot quickly scurried off into the tight crowd.

"No, I wanna dance more~" Your voice drew Simon's attention. You were being such a brat by subtly grinding your hips against him. Sure, you were wasted, but you had to know how riled up he was. You should be able to feel his hard on poking your back by now. He gripped your hips, forcing them to still.

"Baby, you're drunk, and I'm the one who's responsible for getting you home," he growled in your ear. There was a thick rasp in his voice as he tried to repress the urge to grind back. This wasn't fair to him at all. How could you expect a man to resist you? Simon had plenty of trouble doing that already, but this gave blue balls a whole new meaning.

[odoraful]

𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄

during a gathering for the maisons in the court of fontaine, the newlywedded couple retire early to spend time at home together

⟡ content: neuvilette x fem!reader; introvert x introvert; calling each other husband and wife and other cute nicknames; reader saving neuvilette from social burnout; lots of kissing; very fluffy; possibly ooc neuvilette (still figuring out how to write him!)—he's much more open with his affections around reader; 2.4k words

⟡ a/n: craving some married couple dynamics and i thought neuvi was a perfect candidate for this :') i haven't written in almost a month so pardon my rustiness </3

━━━━━━━━━━ ⟡ ━━━━━━━━━━

“It’s not like you to zone out Monsieur Neuvilette.”

Neuvilette’s gaze snapped back to the person in front of him—bemusement on their face. Whilst many others would have let their sheepishness show at being caught, Neuvilette’s features never faltered, returning a sensible smile.

He was conversing with someone from the Maison Cardinalice named Aimon. In fact, there were people from all four Maisons here at the ball. It was a semi-regular gathering held to promote friendly relations between the factions of the Court. Neuvilette believed he had a good grasp of the intricacies of political small talk among these events. The talks were cordial and productive, and he made his due diligence to circle the foyer of the Opera Epiclese enough times to be introduced, and reintroduced, to interested parties. However, mid-way through these rounds, he found that the ornament woven in his hair felt heavier than usual, and his thick robes seemed to drag his body down with each conversation he entered and left. Despite this, he maintained his composure. He had a role to fulfil after all.

“My apologies, I was simply taken by the view here.”

He glanced out again past the open doors of the Opera Epiclese.

White light of the foyer’s interior flooded into the darkness of the night, causing the streams of water in the Fountain of Lucine to shimmer like crystals. Near the doors, some members of the ball had taken to conversing in the cool night air.

The representative from the Cardinalice shook their head in astonishment.

“Even after all your time here, you still find such novelty in the landmarks of the city,” they sighed.

Turning to follow where Neuvilette had been looking, they tried to discern what beauty he saw in this place that they passed almost every day. Realisation hit them almost immediately at what, or rather who, had distracted the Iudex.

One of the people who had taken respite in the open night air was you.

It was hard for one to take their eyes away at the figure draped in gold fabric, hugging their body just so. The ruffled hem of the dress was long enough to hit the floor, leaving a small train of what appeared to be molten gold in the trick of the light. Carefully embroidered vines and leaves in yellow thread trailed from the bodice to the skirt. Tulle-like material lined the sweetheart neck, showcasing the pearl necklace at your collarbones and extending to drape delicately past the curves of the shoulders.

You were in the company of some of the gestionnaires from the Palais Mermonia, listening attentively. Your covered your mouth with a hand, laughing at something being said. Neuvilette could imagine the lilt of your voice as you spoke with the others around you.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Aimon began, “how fares the move for Fontaine’s newly wed couple?”

Neuvilette hummed, a low timbre brimming with affection.

He was not one to announce personal affairs, but no amount of privacy could prevent the news of the Chief Justice getting married from going public. Of course, the people of Fontaine were captivated by the romantic story of someone finally catching the eye of the “solitary workaholic” (as many of the news articles released described him to be). It sounded exactly like something out of a play. Quietly, he enjoyed when people brought it up in conversation, since it gave him a chance to talk about you, after all. He loved the way the title rolled off his tongue when he called you his wife.

“My wife and I have been settling into our new home well,” he replied, revitalised by the change of topic. “We have finished with all our furnishings-”

“Ah!” the exclamation from Aimon almost made him jump. “Monsieur, I must introduce you to the latest addition to our Maison. I think you would quite like him.”

They flapped their hand at someone from outside, gesturing them to come in.

More introductions. Inwardly, Neuvilette sighed, though there was only politeness shown on his face.

━━━━━━━━━━ ⟡ ━━━━━━━━━━

Unbeknownst to Neuvilette, his weariness had begun to manifest in the sky above. What had been a clear night had now turned overcast. Dense clouds obscured the moon. The people around you looked curiously at the sky.

“How fickle the weather can be,” someone tutted.

You knew that such a sudden change could only mean one thing.

Rather than look to the sky, your eyes instead sought your husband. At the entrance of the Opera, you could see Neuvilette speaking with two others, his silhouette back lit by light. Excusing yourself from the people you were with, you lifted the hem of your skirt and walked briskly over. The voice of Aimon grew louder as you drew nearer. You paid half an ear to their discussion, your attention directed at Neuvilette’s rigid posture and passive expression.

His senses tingled as you approached his side. The delicate sweetness of your perfume comforted him. After admiring you from a distance for much of the ball, his lips now parted seeing you up close. Even with how long you have spent with each other, he became more enamoured by you with every passing day.

“Apologies for my interruption.”

Your words cut through the conversation, immediately quietening Aimon. You lay a hand on Neuvilette, squeezing his shoulder lightly. You felt his body ease under your touch.

“But may I speak to my husband?”

“Mademoiselle.” Aimon tipped his head in greeting. “Why of course. We will take out leave.”

You curtsied in thanks, watching as the two Cardinalice members hurried away further into the foyer.

Neuvilette’s hand hovered over your waist. Momentarily, he thought about pulling you close, until he could trace every thread of the embroidered pattern on your bodice under his fingertips and memorise its shape. It pained him to resist an action like this, but he was a gentleman, and it would be improper to do something like that in a public space. Instead, he subtly gestured towards the edge of the room as a place to talk without, hopefully, being interrupted.

“My dear, is everything alright?”

The concern on his face melted your heart.

“Everything is quite alright with me, but I’m not sure I can say the same for you.”

You covered the side of your mouth that could be viewed by others. “It’s okay if you’re tired of this ball,” you whispered.

His face fell to relief that something bad had not happened to you.

“Thank you for your concern, dear, but as head of the Ordalie, it is my duty to be here and connect with the other Maisons.” The words came out of him almost robotically, betraying the tiredness that weighed his body and pleaded for him to rest.

“It may well be, but I don’t want to see you collapsing the next time someone wants to speak to you,” you insisted.

He rubbed his temple with his finger and thumb. Neuvilette couldn’t argue with that. It was true. How good of a Chief Justice could he be if he was too exhausted to properly fulfil his duties? At the thought of leaving early, his mind wandered to how the two of you would cuddle before bed, tucked beneath the quilts, enveloped by homeliness. Maybe it was best to listen to your advice.

“Are you alright to retire for the night as well, then?” he asked.

“Archons, yes,” you blurted out. “The gestionnaires are lovely company, but if I had the choice between hearing the amount of paperwork required to replace a keycap from them again, or to return to my abode with my husband, I think my answer would hardly surprise you.”

He laughed at your candour. “I will not let you say anything untoward about the Maison Gestion for I admire their tenacity. However, even I must admit that that may not the most riveting conversation to be apart of.”

Neuvilette extended a hand out towards you.

“Shall we depart then?”

You nodded fervently. Moving to his side, you both took a turn around the foyer, saying your necessary goodbyes to the heads of the Maisons. They gave saddened responses to his early departure, but respected the couple’s wishes. Though, you and Neuvilette considered being out at a quarter-past-nine at night to already be quite late.

━━━━━━━━━━ ⟡ ━━━━━━━━━━

The two of you entered you home with a relieved sigh, slipping off your shoes and leaving them on the rack by the door. Though the slight clutter of your living room—pillows askew on the sofa, blankets draped on chairs, handmade ceramic trinkets dotted in spaces around the room—was far from the pristine foyer of the Opera, you much preferred it. Automatically, you and Neuvilette headed upstairs to the bedroom, wanting nothing more than to unwind for the night.

Looking at your reflection, you took your necklace and earrings off, returning them back to their velvet boxes. Behind you in the mirror, your husband’s hair began to get tangled in the clip of his feathered ornament. He let out a frustrated huff. It was certainly cute to see someone as accomplished as the Iudex have such a sulky look on his face. Wordlessly, you walked over to his side and tapped his hands away. At your signal of aid, Neuvilette sat down on the bed, allowing you to reach his head. His eyes were glued to your focused expression, how careful you were trying to be to not hurt him. Your fingers delicately removed the hair piece, and you smoothed his hair to tidy it up.

As he stood up to take off his robes, he felt your hands tug at the sleeves, helping him to undress. Neuvilette opened his mouth to protest, to tell you that you needn’t worry about him, that you should go and wash up first. Knowing your husband for so long, you sensed these words and spoke before him.

”I know being Chief Justice is an intensive role, but please don’t push yourself too hard.”

Such a gentle request from his wife almost made him fall to his knees. It was act of care that seemed magnified now that you were married. Neuvilette managed to, incredibly, maintain his balance as you worked to unbutton his vest.

“You are not an unfeeling Gardemek who can stand for hours without tumbling over,” you pouted, fumbling at his buttons.

The Chief Justice took his position seriously, sparing no feelings in a trial. It was a job needed to be done faithfully to best help the people of Fontaine. That sense of responsibility he had was something you held great pride in, but not when it took a toll on his mind and body. Especially when the emotions he held like a still body of water began to ripple and swirl behind the curtains of the courtroom.

“I will heed your words,” he nodded. “In any case, you seem to be swooping in to my rescue a few times tonight.”

You grinned. “I would gladly rescue you whenever you need, party-related or otherwise.”

Neuvilette stared fondly at his wife, slipping off his vest and folding it neatly. Perhaps it was the after effects of the honeymoon period, but the domesticity of this moment flared something inside him.

Before you could move to the closet on the opposite side of the room, he circled a hand around your waist. His touch stopping you from walking away. You cocked your head to the side, curiously.

“Truly, you have my thanks.”

Swiftly, you were pulled close to him. Neuvilette ran a fingertip along the edges of the leaves stitched onto your bodice, finally feeling each thread. You squirmed slightly—each drag of his finger leaving a tickling sensation at your waist. The composed air he maintained for most hours of the day came undone before you. Left wearing only his loose white shirt and black pants, his tousled hair fell down his back and the glow from the bedroom’s lantern reflected desire in his indigo eyes.

Leaning closer still, his warm breath caressed your face as his lips met your forehead first. The movement excruciatingly slow. Each press of his lips lingered for a second longer that you could even feel the most minute shifts in his face. Continuing, he trailed feather-like kisses down your temples.

“Mm, what’s this for?” you asked, more breathless than you anticipated.

Neuvilette hummed for a moment.

“My intentions are two fold. One-” he accentuated the word with a kiss on your cheek, “-as appreciation for helping me tonight, and two-” he placed another on the opposite side, “-as recompense for not admiring you properly at the ball.”

There was always a flutter in your stomach when he kissed you, but the way your breath caught in your throat felt like this was the very first time. He was completely lost in his affection as he moved down to your jawline and neck—soft lips meeting your quickening pulse. A small gasp escaped you at the contact, and the smile that drew across his lips was unmistakable against your skin. The folded vest slipped from your hand and crumpled on the floor. He would deal with the creases in his uniform in the morning. For now, it would make a satisfactory sacrifice for this chance to cherish you.

Grasping at Neuvilette’s shirt sleeve instead, he switched positions, cornering you on the edge of the bed. He focused his attention on the dip in your collarbone—a sensitive spot that made you shiver at the contact. The sensation was too inviting not resist. Your legs could no longer hold yourself steady, as you tumbled down to sit. Hands opposite sides of your body, your husband had subtly caged you in as he pulled away to look at your face.

“You look divine, my dear.” His voice was low, reverberating in your ears.

“As do you. Though I believe that adjective is a given-” you poked at his cheek with a finger “-for a Sovereign such as yourself.”

Red tinged his ears, an obvious contrast against his pale skin. He breathed a laugh at your comment, always quick to return a compliment to him.

The clouds had long since dissipated, showcasing the moon in its clarity. The attendants at the Opera briefly paused their chatter to once again admire the twinkling sky. A few of them sighed, commenting disappointedly how the Chief Justice and his wife had missed the splendour of the night.

━━━━━━━━━━ ⟡ ━━━━━━━━━━

[korebringerofded]

You Can Hear it in the Silence- Part 1

Roronora Zoro X F!Reader

Summary- A handful of moments, Zoro realizes he has feelings for you, you realize you have feelings for him, tension tensionnnn Warnings- Future smut, adult content, sexual tension? Romantic feelings? Crack fic energy, lots of fluff and pining. Usopp being personally victimized by Zoro, emotionally unaware and distant Zoro, Reader wears a dress? Strawhat!Reader

A/N- I ask that you read my rules before going any further on my page. Reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated and keep me going All requests are always open and you can find my entire masterlist here. Please do not copy, use my work, or put it through AI without my permission or I'll be really sad about it!!

A/N- Hope you enjoy! This was supposed to be an imagine buttttt now its a multi-part fic, sorry for no posts. Its mental illness aint it. Reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated and keep me going All requests are open and you can find my entire masterlist here

Roronora Zoro was not the kind of person who would often find himself discomposed, he was undeniably brave and headstrong, sometimes to a fault. 

He was practically a one-man army, him being a ruthless pirate hunter turned pirate meant he had seen countless battles, faced many challenges.

So far, only two things could really cause that stoic image to falter, losing a fight, and you.

From the very first day that Monkey D. Luffy dragged you aboard the Going Merry, Zoro had taken notice of you. His sharp eyes followed you closely, taking in the curve of your pretty lips and the flutter of your lashes. It started as a simple interest, a curiosity for the newest crewmate, that was all. 

At least, that is what the renowned swordsman told himself.

For the first few months of you being aboard, Zoro had believed he had been successful at ignoring the blossom of warmth he had started to feel towards his new crewmate. He had convinced himself it was truly nothing more than a friendly interest. 

That was all, just a friendly and completely platonic interest in you.

You, who had a habit of wearing short dresses when it was a particularly hot day, skirts edge swaying at your thighs as you moved around the ship. 

You, whose warmth and kindness made Zoro’s skin crawl and his chest ache in an uncomfortable and unfamiliar way.

You, whose sweet and musical laugh would play on repeat in Zoro’s mind like a siren’s song, no matter how hard he tried to stop it.

You, who would spend entirely too much time with that damn cook. 

Not that Zoro cared, of course he didn’t care.

He cared, he cared a lot.

It was dinnertime, the sun setting over the shore while everyone was settling into their normal routines as the salty breeze blew along the deck. The entire crew sat around the dining table eating and conversing as they did nearly every evening. Nami, Sanji and Chopper sat next to you on one side of the table while Luffy, Usopp and Zoro sat on the other.

Luffy was talking to Usopp who sat at the other end of the dinning table, his voice loud as he shoved an absorbent amount of food into his face, his face pushed out like a chipmunk  with chubby cheeks full of acorns.

“L-Luffy! Be careful, you’re gonna choke!” You stammered, watching with wide eyes and a pale face.

“Ah, I wouldn’t worry so much about him. I’ve seen Luffy eat 12 whole roasted chickens in a row before.” Nami said with a sigh as she patted you on the shoulder.

“What about the bones?” You asked

“Oh yeah, he ate those too. I’m not even sure he noticed he did it.” Nami said.

“I rike food, is that suwch a crime?!” Luffy asked with a huff as his teeth tore into the juicy meat of a chicken leg, the grease coating his face and the food muffling his complaints. 

That sent everyone at the table into a fit of laughter, except for Zoro, who was sitting directly across from you at the table and was entirely too distracted staring directly at you to even notice the rest of the crew,

He had an almost unreadable expression on his face, his jaw tight. His body was tense, heart beating rapidly in his chest, like the echoing beat of a drum. Zoro’s eyes never left you, they followed the way your chin lifted into the air and your head tilted back as you laughed with your whole body.

He could see the small tears that formed at the corner of your glossy eyes as you laughed so hard it seemed to hurt, curled lashes fluttering as your hand reached up to brush the tears away.

Although he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, even himself,  Roronora Zoro started to live and breathe for those bite-sized moments of your life. He wanted to see everything, experience all of you in every way possible.

Eventually, it got to the point where every thought that ran through Zoro’s brain would somehow descend to thoughts of you, your smile, your laugh, and those fucking eyes that were starting to ruin him.

As was normal aboard the Going Merry, Zoro was working out on the deck, doing countless amounts of reps with an abnormally huge weight, his rippling muscles twitching and sweat forming on his brow as he enjoyed the breeze and the sunshine soaking into his already tanned skin. He passed the weight between each of his arms after each set of reps, making sure each of his arms was properly matched. 

Zoro was training particularly hard today, his bandana tied around his head to catch the sweat from stinging his eyes. He couldn’t help it, he had been distracted for weeks, he had to try and clear his head.

He needed something, anything to take his mind off of his new crewmate, you. 

No matter how hard Zoro tried to avoid you, to ignore you, or be cold towards you…you would appear, and melt away that cold exterior like the onset of spring over a fluffy snow-covered field.

Just as always, as soon as Zoro’s clouded mind started to clear, your voice and presence appeared and sent a spark down the swordsman's spine, his muscles twitching as he glanced over his shoulder to see his only real weakness, you.

“I made some lemonade, you want some?” You asked in a honeyed tone.

Zoro’s eyes immediately scanned down to take in your outfit, gritting his teeth to contain the audible groan that threatened to escape his mouth. You were wearing a rather short dress, the brightly colored skirt swaying in the breeze as you held a tray with a glass pitcher full of lemonade and a few glasses on it.

“Damn…why do you have to be so cute?”

“That damn cook didn’t touch it, right? I think he's trying to poison me.” Zoro grumbled, only half-joking. 

You giggled softly, looking up at him as you quickly shook your head back and forth. You sat the tray down on a small table off to the side of the deck, bending over just a bit to pour Zoro a full glass of the lemonade.

Zoro couldn’t help it, his eyes wandered down the curve of your back to your round hips, his hand clenching around the dumbbell in his hand as he saw the skirt of your dress ride up the back of your plump thighs as you bent down.

“Nope. I made it myself, it’s definitely poison-free.” You said with a toothy grin, standing back up as you offered him the cup, the ice clinking against the sides of the frosty glass.

“Hm.” Zoro smirked. “We’ll see about that.” 

You giggled softly, still holding the glass out for him to take.

Zoro didn’t even realize what he was doing, your presence alone was like a bucket of ice water that short-circuited his brain. All rationality left his mind the moment he laid his eyes on your pretty face. 

For a split second, you could have sworn you caught his eyes flickering down to your thighs as the edge of your dress fluttered in the salty ocean breeze.

“That was just my imagination, right?” You thought to yourself, your heart starting to thunder in your chest like an approaching storm.

Zoro didn’t notice the weight starting to slip from his hands and without really thinking about it, he took another step forward. His sharp eyes were staring intensely into yours as his free hand reached to take the glass you had offered him, your fingers brushing against his calloused ones for just a moment before…complete chaos.

SMASHH-CRACK

It was a splintering, echoing sound, the ship trembling back and forth at the sudden impact.

Usopp was pale as he rushed over and stared down at the weight sticking half-out of the deck and tottering back and forth between you and Zoro.

Ussopp stepped around the weight with his arms flying up around him wildly as he tried to get out actual words. He was puffing out air as his face turned red.

“WHAT…THE…HELL?!” Usopp managed to stammer as he looked up at Zoro with a perplexed look on his face.

“Uhm…sorry.” Zoro mumbled in a hoarse voice, clearing his throat with a cough, though his cold, sharp eyes never left yours.

“Is that all you have to say? Now I have to fix this!” Usopp huffed, his face red in frustration as he threw his arms up one final time and he ran off to the storage room to get some tools and supplies. 

Usopp ran off, his body slumped over as he mumbled curses and complaints under his breath. 

As Usopp left, Zoro’s eyes wandered from the weight sticking out of the splintered wood and then back to your beautiful eyes. 

He was sure he would die of embarrassment then and there, your eyes were wide and you were looking up at him with a shocked expression on your face. 

He was certain you would tease him, absolutely positive you would…but instead, he saw admiration in those big, beautiful eyes. You were honestly too awestruck to even notice Usopp's ramblings or to care about the damaged deck.

“Do you lift those everyday?” You asked, taking another step closer to him. 

“Oh..yeah…” Zoro answered, his mouth suddenly going dry. 

“That's…incredible. What do those even weigh?!” You asked, eyes glossy.

“Um…I have no idea. I think…1000 pounds, maybe?” Zoro chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin creeping up on his face.

Your eyes widened as you stared up at the swordsman, his chest was wide and littered in twitching muscles and pale scars from his many adventures. He had been training for a while and his tan skin was glossy with beads of sweat that rolled down to his rippling abs. Your eyes couldn’t help but follow the beads of sweat until they rolled down to his curly green happy trail.

Yeah, after that you were completely and totally head over heels for Roronoa Zoro, not that you could ever tell him.

 Preview to part 2

“I can’t do this.” Zoro shook his head, shooting a glare at Nami. 

“Yes, you can.” Usopp said with a chuckle. “She is totally into you!” 

“Usopp is right, she is absolutely into you.” Nami nodded, hands on her hips. 

“Why is he here, anyways?” Zoro grumbled in a whisper, pointing his thumb in Usopp’s direction with a look of disgust. 

“Hey! I’m great at romance!” Usopp scoffed with a look of offense.

“This is going to go so badly.” Zoro said in a low voice, almost at a whisper as he started to rub his face with his hands, back slumped.

“All you have to do is ask her to spend the evening with you.” Nami said, one of her eyes twitching slightly. 

“And if she says no?” Zoro retorted. 

“She won’t! Now stop being such a coward!” Nami snapped, giving Zoro a slight shove towards the steps leading up to the main deck of the ship. 

Zoro glanced over his shoulder to see Nami and Usopp each of them giving him two thumbs up before turning back towards the steps with an audible groan before he started up the stairs.

“Why did I agree to letting these idiots help?” 

“I am not doing this. No way.” 

Zoro’s thoughts came to a complete standstill as he made his way to the top of the stairs and to the main deck. It was like the unshakeable man had been struck by a great bolt of lighting at the very sight of you. His calloused hand was wrapped so tightly around the banister that the wood trembled under his grip, sure to shatter to splinters if the pressure kept up. 

You were splayed out on the deck of the Going Merry, the afternoon sun shimmering down in bright rays of light and dancing over the surface of the freshly washed deck and your incredibly tempting skin. 

Your hair was fluttering behind you as you lay in the sun and thoughtfully flipped through one of your favorite books, laying on your stomach and kicking your feet absent-mindedly. You had on one of those absolutely maddening dresses, they always had an effect on him but that dress drove Zoro’s mind to recesses of his mind he never thought existed. 

He really couldn’t help it as his eyes flickered over your body, slowing as he scanned over the round curve of your ass and the plush skin of your thighs. It all was starting to make his head spin and his dick twitch uncomfortably under his clothes. 

Zoro was so caught up in subconsciously memorizing the shape of your body that he didn’t even notice you had looked up at him, the book still laying open in front of you. You both just stared at each other for a moment before you eventually spoke. 

“Did you need something?”

Part 2 Coming Soon

[offbranddrpepsi]

Hi. Can I request yandere headcanons for Chamber from Valorant?

Absolutely!

Yandere Chamber Headcanons

Chamber is already known to be incredibly resourceful as well as has the financial power to compensate for what he isn't able to obtain with his own efforts. This becomes his main tactic to keep tabs on you once hes taken interest. Though he heavily skirts the line of stalking he never does, he is still a gentleman after all and lets you have privacy, there are some things he would rather have you give him than him take. He knows your schedule and routine perfectly. He knows your address, your parents address, what their professions are, what yours is/was (if you are in Valorant), were you like to get dinner when you want to spoil yourself, the names of your best friend and any information one could possibly find about them. Before you've even become good friends he knows your likes and dislikes better than nearly everyone you know and uses this to hook you.

Now, Chamber also knows he is attractive so in his mind he realistically doesn't have to put a lot of work into getting you. Even still he starts his pursuit by gifting you your favorite flowers, saying he over heard you talking to Sage when you ask how he knew. Then he is asking you on a date to a higher end version of your favorite restaurant, a knowing smile on his face as you rave about the food and how you can't wait to go again. Finally he starts flirting with only you, others make note of it and do his work for him by teasing you over it.

Of course his flirtations aren't where all his efforts lie. If he knows of anyone you have interest in then he pays them handsomely to avoid you and finds dirt on the ones who don't accept his bribes, causing them to avoid you or have their lives destroyed. Now he doesn't want to isolate you, he still lets your friends be your own though he does make efforts to win them to his side as well with elaborate group trips and gifts for every occasion. If someone causes you trouble they are paid off to quietly go away, if they don't then they simply vanish not to be heard from. He makes sure everyone that loves you loves him as well and removes anyone that would keep the two of you apart one way or the other.

He ensures you have the best day possible when ever he can and is always there when you dont. He listens to you vent and makes sure he is the only one to cheer you up, only sending you on little feel better trips with your friends so he can handle what ever darkened your day. You start having surprisingly good luck. He starts chatting you up more about your day to know if his efforts were enough. If they weren't he fixes that the only way an assassin knows how.

As he sinks his teeth into you he becomes possessive but subtly at first, he knows how quickly someone can pull away so he wants to let you get used to it. He buys you a pair of gold ear rings that match his own, encouraging you to show it off while telling you that you get gold because you deserve the best. Your clothes slowly start being replaced, though he is sure to keep the ones you look the most you in, by ones that match his own so you two always look like a pair in some way. Then he gets you a bracelet with his last name engraved on it, easily folding when you ask him to get one with yours so he can match as it marks his efforts coming to fruition. Its barely two months before you're moved in with him with a room of your own at his apartment though you spend most of your time in his until your room is now your office. He starts seeming to show up not long after you stray from his side, always having an arm around you or holding your hand, saying how he missed you and just so happened to find you. At times he is just silent while others he is just as part of the conversation as anyone else, no one notices just how present hes become in everything you do until its just normal for him to be there.

He uses all of his resources to make sure you absolutely never have a reason to leave him. He bares his heart to you, exposing his deepest emotions he hides from others, pulling you in as close as he can until its far too late to escape. You feel lucky, you're his only confidant, the one person he trusts more than himself, the person who owns his heart which he stresses is very hard to do. You're spoiled constantly and never have dark days. You want it he gets it, you don't want it then he makes sure you never have to see it again. He uses vulnerability like a trap, drawing you in until its too late for you to turn around and escape and then spoiling you so you dont realize just how far you've fallen.

You have a ring on your finger and a wedding date before you know it. You retire from what ever work you do, Valorant or not, at his insistence as he promises to take care of you just as he has been this whole time. Slowly most of your friends simply can't keep up which he consoles you over and eventually you meet his double, the only other man he would trust with you, and soon you too become close to his mirror. Having him becomes like having a body guard that can never stop telling you how beautiful you are and thats only multiplied now. Who needs friends when theres plenty of him to go around?

Eventually you're a caged bird but your cage is gilded with gold and adorned with the finest jewels. You have all your hobbies, you have your family, you have any friends that managed to stick around. Your every need it met and all you have to give is yourself to him. All you have to do is be his and only his. He doesn't make you serve him, you're too good for that. Instead you sit just in eye sight, being the you he oh so loves. When you're not in his sight you're in his doubles though you aren't ever sure which is which some days, they look at you the same after all and give you the same, and only, love that you've come to know.

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

Nick Amaro: Protest 

This technically is a pre-story to this but can be read as a standalone. Warnings: Slight mention of Sexual Assult  

Nick walked back into the bullpen as a herd of protesters were being led in. There had been a slut walk tonight. Hundreds of women had flocked to the streets to protest victim blaming and slut shaming. There had been a case of rape that had been all over the news where the police and media had been more concerned with the length of a victim’s skirt and how many drinks she had consumed than going after the big wig producer. Nick understood their frustration but didn’t see how a bunch of half-naked women walking down a Manhattan Street was going to help. With how hostile the case was going it seemed like asking for trouble at this point. 

Trouble had of course been found. A few men had protested the protest, three had been flashers running through the crowd exposing themselves, one being as bold as to rip down the protester's top. Now gaggles of girls were waiting in the lounge area to pick the assailants out of lineups. Nick notices a barely dressed girl hovering in the lobby. He downs half of his energy drink in one pull before going over to tell her to return to the lobby to wait. 

“Excuse me, are you here for the lineup-” Nick cuts off when you turn around and it takes him a moment longer than it should for his brain to register that it was you. He has known you for a couple of months now. You were a cute little thing. A part of the Crime Scene Unit. The two of you had talked and been around each other at various crime scenes. Nick liked you, you were sweet and funny if not a bit of an oversharer. Granted you seemed to like poking fun at yourself and your rather strange decisions that had some interesting fallout and it got people laughing. 

He is used to seeing you in a shapeless, oversized dark blue crime scene jumper. It takes his brain time to process the cute girl to the sexy woman in front of him. He couldn’t help the appreciative lingering glance. You were wearing high-heeled boots and a short skirt that he was at risk of flashing your underwear if you attempted to bend down or move too quickly and left a glorious amount of toned skin from your calves to upper midthigh on display. A sleeveless wide-dropped, white top that was barely covering your generous chest was only held together with a tie at the bottom snug under your breast struggling to keep them contained. Across your bare stomach written in red was #METOO. His jaw tightened as he wondered about the events that could have caused you to join.    

“Detective Amaro,” His dark eyes shoot up to yours as he focuses on your face. “Yes, I’m waiting on the lineup. All the crazy things always happen at the protests I swear, at least I’m not the one under arrest this time.” You grin self-indulgently. 

“You’ve been arrested at a protest?” He couldn't imagine you getting into any kind of trouble.  

“Once or twice. Charges were never filed.” You cross your arms over your chest, which causes your breasts to strain even more against your white top. The movement caught his gaze. Nick could just make out the lines of your hard nipples through your flimsy top. You seemed completely unaware of his heated gaze as you told him about being sprayed with a water hose and pepper spray, cuffed, and booked for a night while protesting the fracking of Indian land while you were in college. You thought they felt bad and that’s why they released you so easily. You had been pushed down and broken your nose giving you two gnarly black eyes. He couldn’t help but chuckle when you stated that another woman who had been arrested with you spiritually healed and blessed you with sage-infused water in the cell you shared claiming it would help with the physical pain too. It hadn't. 

“Your college days and mine were very different.” You didn’t get a chance to answer as a cuff perp was walking in and saw you. He ogled you and whistled before being pushed into holding. Nick moved to stand in front of you defensively. You shift uncomfortably remembering that you didn’t have much on and suddenly feeling very exposed. You weren’t the type to flaunt your body. This protest had just called for you to go over the top and out of your normal tomboy zone. You feel the warmth over your shoulders and look back to see Nick wrapping his suit jacket around you.  

“Thank you,” You shrug further into it sliding your arm through the sleeves. The scent of his cologne musky with a spicy tinge overwhelms you. Nick is taller than you and the jacket hangs down nearly to your knees. You go to do up the button to completely cover yourself before remembering the red lettering on your stomach, you don’t want it to bleed onto his clothes. You feel his gaze on you. Nick felt something in him change when he saw you wearing his jacket. Lust pooled in his belly and he didn’t think he would ever be able to reconnect his mind with you just being the cute CSU girl who overshares again.  

“You can button that up if you want, I’m not worried about it.” You give him a grateful nod before buttoning the jacket. It helps cover the bare skin, but your chest is much larger than Nick’s and it stretches the fabric bunching it awkwardly, and your breasts are still falling out. 

“You can ask if you want detective.” He had led you over to his desk and you leaned against it. 

“You’ve been sexually assaulted.” You hum in response, “Did you ever press charges? We could file a report-” 

“That’s not necessary. It was years ago.” You play with a ring on your finger, twisting it. “It’s not like the cases you get here.” 

“Any sexual assault-” 

“Yeah, yeah I know the spiel.” You shake your head at him, “It wasn’t anything crazy. Just one incident in college. I was at a party and there was this drunk guy. I didn’t really know him or anything and he didn’t know me, clearly.” You laugh to yourself before rolling your eyes. Then turned back to look at Nick, “He cornered me and slid his hand down my pants. When I told him no, he didn’t listen. He was clearly drunk and thought I was too. I wasn’t. I only had one drink. What he didn’t know was that I had been wrestling since middle school and took kickboxing classes throughout high school.” You shrug your shoulder nonchalantly, “So, when I told him to stop again, and he didn’t I kneed him in the junk hard enough that he spit out blood.” 

“And then?” You start tugging at the jacket sleeve.  

“Then nothing. I got up and left. I was called into the office the next day. They gave me a choice if I didn’t report it as sexual harassment then I wouldn’t get in trouble for violence and underage drinking on campus.” 

“You get harassed, and they try to put the blame on you to get you not to report to save their school image.” You watch his frustration spike and grin at him. 

“You’re a good fit here. It’s nice to know that some cops are still on our side.” He calms down and feels great satisfaction at your praise. “Honestly though, I wasn’t planning on pressing charges. I think he got the picture. I kind of feel bad sometimes... about how hard I hit him. I wonder if he will ever be able to have kids now.” 

“I don’t think it will hurt the world if he doesn’t.” Nick sighed as he read your face. You seemed fine talking about what had happened and he was glad that you had been able to take care of yourself but your not reporting did bother him. You heard your name being called and saw Liv waving to you to do your lineup, so you stood. “Hey, do you want me to call someone for you? To take you home that is. Are you dating someone?” He feels the air pulled out of his sails when you respond. 

“Yeah, Teddy Jackson from homicide. No need to call him though. He’d be pissed if he found out I went to this protest. I don’t feel like another fight.” You give him one more smile before slipping out of his jacket and handing it back to him. “Thank you for the company though Detective Amaro.”     

This was supposed to be a short two-pager. Oh well, I have two more parts to this of Nick pining after you while you are with my made-up homicide detective. I have a notebook of ideas for Nick and I'm trying to get through them before I start up new ideas or they usually get trashed. Hope you enjoyed xoxo

[chaoticbardlady99]

Darling, Never Stop Haunting Me

Spawn! Astarion x F! Ghost Reader

Chapter Two: Tea Parties and Fashion Catastrophes 

Synopsis: (6 months Post-Netherbrain) You and Astarion run into trouble while trying to find a map to a Ring of Sunwalking. Astarion gives you a gift and plans your next adventure. A confession after a hunt leads to an interesting discovery about your ghost powers.

CW: Mentions of violence (literally barely)

Note: The first couple chapters will have time skips because it is meant to set up the main plot- more chaos is on it's way!

Disclaimer- I put together the picture for the banner, but I do not own any of the pictures. Birdie is a stock image 💜 I will not describe the readers body in detail- she is just merely on the banner for ✨drama✨. I believe the picture of Astarion is from @cheekylittlepupp . And then the symbol of Orcus in the back is a free image off the internet.

Chapter One: Chapter Three :AO3

“Princess Cupcakes,” the little girl giggles as she pretends to pour you a cup of tea, “would you like sugar and milk with your tea?”

 You give two unenthusiastic, sharp meows in response and the girl pretends to put sugar and milk in your tea. The little girl, Scarlett, was an obstacle that you and Astarion had not foreseen when you broke into the Drow mansion in Menzoberranzan.

  You had chased a lead all the way into The Cloud Peaks in Amn and the Gold Dragon who’s blood supposedly held the cure for Astarion’s sun allergy. It seemed too good to be true.

 And it was.

 In fact, the Dragon, Heskan, was resigned to inform them that his blood would cause Astarion to spontaneously combust. However, he did have a very solid lead, but the map to this lead was hidden within a family’s mansion in Menzoberranzan. 

 The plan had been fool proof- there was a massive ball tonight at some other Mansion in Menzoberranzan and from the gossip you heard around the mansion during your snooping, the entire family was going to this event. 

  Right as the carriage left, you and Astarion had snuck in through the sunroom door and used invisibility to get to the library. When you were unable to locate it in the library, you moved to the office- this went on for much longer than either one of you wanted until you found it in the little girl’s room. Why is a cryptic book about her ancestor’s in her room? No clue. 

  You both had no reason to be worried.

  Or so you thought. 

  As soon as Astarion picked up the book, an excited squealing was heard from the hallway and the little girl came barreling towards you with tears streaming down her face and snot bubbling in her nose. Astarion barely hid himself in time, but he didn’t even attempt to save you from this miserable fate. 

Princess Cupcakes your ass- you didn’t even like tea parties when you were a little girl! 

  Scarlett put you in some kind of tulle, pink tutu and a paper crown that now sits uncomfortably on your head. The girl speaks of nonsensical drama between her parents and it made you feel just bad enough that you’ve allowed her to indulge in her Kitty Tea Party dream, but you are fed up with staring into glassy stuffed cats’ eyes and not being able to hear properly. Not to mention, the skirt is itchy. 

   “Oh Princess Cupcakes, if only my parents would let me keep you,” Scarlett sighs, “but alas, they will skin you like the others! But don’t worry- we will still be having tea parties and you will have so much fun!” 

  You knew these stuffed Cats looked far too life-like for your liking. This is probably about your cue to try to skeedaddle, but the sound of neighing and the little girl’s happy clapping makes your stomach drop.

 The ball is still going for another five hours! They only just left!

  You yowl in despair- you are doomed!

   Scarlett aggressively pets your head and you bat her hand causing her to become upset.

 “Bad kitty!”

 “Scarlett!!!” A frantic woman calls and the little girl scoops you up in her arms while marching towards the door. 

  The girl smiles maliciously at you, “you’ll be a good kitty again soon!”

  Except she doesn’t make it very far when a blast of sleep hits her and causes her to drop like a weight- Astarion quickly snatching you out of the air and returning to the hiding spot behind the child’s massive door. 

 “Oh Lolth, help me- Scarlett! Of course you would hide and then fall asleep,” the woman is practically screeching, “Gods below- your hair is a mess now! We are going to be even more….”

  The woman’s voice trails off as she storms away with the sleeping child in her arms. You and Astarion sit in total silence and you hold your breath as you wait for the sound of the carriage taking off. You can still hear the mother fussing over Scarlett’s appearance and Scarlett is whining now that she is awake- her screaming and crying is enough to make you want to rip your own fur out. 

 You finally take a breath when the horses neigh and the sound of the carriage lurching forward echoes through the room. Astarion immediately begins snickering as he closes the door and looks to see if there are any guards underneath the bedroom window. 

 “What are you snickering about?” You leer at the man.

 “Oh nothing, your highness.” 

  His adorable, obnoxious giggle starts up again as he begins the descent down the wall using Spider Crawl- you are less than amused.

 “You jest, but I was an excellent tea party guest,” you say with feigned anger, “thank you very much.” 

 “Excellent is a stretch, my Dear. You could not be less enthusiastic about milk and sugar if you tried.” 

 “You wouldn’t be too enthusiastic about milk and sugar either if you were about to become a toy!” You exclaim, “they would have eaten and stuffed me! Stuffed, Astarion! I would be a STUFFED CAT FOREVER IF I COULDN’T LEAVE THIS BODY.” 

 “Would you be aware of being in their stomach’s then?” Astarion thinks aloud, “could your soul split in that way? That would be a horrific experience I’m sure.” 

 You just gape at him- your ear twitching and you turn your chin up at him. Both of you are now safely walking towards the Inn you are staying at for the night and you feel far more safe to be dramatic. 

 “Oh don’t be like that, Darling,” he teases, “I wouldn’t have let that happen to you.”

 You grumble and shake your head in an attempt to throw the crown off.

“I can’t believe I even let this fashion disaster happen,” he says while removing the ridiculous crown off your head, “tulle and paper does not suit you in the slightest.”

 “I am quite miffed with you for that- this tutu is ridiculous and itchy.”

 “It is made of tulle- I could fashion you a new-“

 “Don’t you dare!”

 Astarion bursts out laughing and earns weird looks from several on lookers that he proceeds to return with a ‘what? You have an issue?’ look. You can’t help but roll your eyes. Of course they have an issue with it- you would be concerned too if a beautiful man was talking and laughing with a cat. 

  The rest of the walk back to the inn is in silence and you don’t mind it so much. Astarion isn’t paying much attention to you and you take advantage of the moment to silently worship his features. 

Everyday you grow more and more agitated with being stuck as a cat- your growing affections have been absolutely no help in quelling your irritation. If anything, it made it worse. 

  It doesn’t seem to matter what you do or did to prevent it, but you seem to have fallen into some kind of feelings for the man. You envy every person who gets to kiss his lips or be on the receiving end of honeyed words. You would also love to be able to cuddle as a person. 

  Eh, oh well. 

 “Admiring my beauty, are we?” Astarion goads.

  You flick your ears in irritation- a lame attempt at pretending he didn’t surprise you, “I was merely wondering what you use to wash your hair.” 

 “My hair?” 

 “Yes, your hair.” 

  “You are the worst liar I have ever met.” 

 “I’m not lying.”

  You both make eye contact for far longer than you would like, but you hold your ground long enough that he drops it with a cocky smirk. He knows you’re lying because your heart is thrumming painfully hard against your chest. 

 “I’m afraid it’s a trade secret, Darling,” Astarion says,  “if I told you, I would no longer be useful to you anymore.” 

 “That isn’t true and you know it.” 

 “Perhaps.” 

  A deep frown settles in your brain.

 “I hope one day you will be able to see how important you are to me,” you say softly, neglecting to look at him. You look far too dumb in this godforsaken tutu for a heart to heart.

  You curl up on the bed as soon as Astarion opens the Inn room door after unceremoniously destroying the tutu in an attempt to take it off. Astarion tries to hold back his laughter as he discards the flimsy material. 

  He takes his shirt off, as he usually does, before going to the washroom and you pretend you are asleep (as you usually do). 

  You want to scream how much you love him and adore him from the mountain tops. You want to tell him that he never has to look too far to be loved again, but you can’t risk losing him altogether- that would destroy you. 

  Not to mention, what life could you give him? You possessed a cat for fucks sake. 

 He doesn’t take as long as he usually does- a wide grin along his face. You look at him with heavy amounts of suspicion.

 “What? You made me a new tutu already?” 

 “Ha! You wish, Darling,” Astarion snorts, “I do have something for you though.” 

 He grabs something out of his bag and you honestly don’t know if you should be horrified or fascinated when he shows you his stolen copy of ‘Volo’s Guide to Spirits and Spectres’. 

 “Uh- thank you? I think?”

  Astarion rolls his eyes before plopping down next to you on the bed and scratches you between the ears while flipping aimlessly through the book. 

 “Well- I was thinking,” Astarion begins slowly, “that, once we solve my sun allergy, we should begin to find a way for you to be in ‘person’ form again.

“You are a wonderful cat, but I’m sure being a person would be preferable?” 

  “Really?” 

  Your voice comes out much quieter than you intended it to. You thought you would go back to Baldur’s Gate and you would just watch him have a whole life until your feline form perishes. 

  This? You could have never anticipated this. 

 “Of course, Darling,” the softness of his voice causes you to finally take your eyes away from the book, “you have been by my side for this adventure and then some- we might as well keep the show going.” 

 “Ah, yes,” your voice reflects the happiness you feel blooming on the inside, “the show must go on.” 

 You spend the next couple hours perusing the contents of Volo’s novel. The information is atrocious and laughable at best. You find yourself laughing so hard your stomach is in stitches; Astarion’s scowling and additional commentary did not help.

  Eventually a comfortable silence falls over both of you and lulls you to sleep. Astarion continues to read through Volo’s terrible writing and finds that he is more and more disappointed by it’s contents than he had thought he would be. 

  Heskan had told him about the book after you had fallen into a deep slumber- the Gold dragon had taken a liking to you because he is a Bard and he appreciated having someone to talk about music theory with. 

 “This information seems to worry you more than it thrills you, Astarion,” the dragon noted curiously, “why?”

 Astarion stared at you sleeping on the chair as he tried to put together his thoughts.

“What if she leaves?”

 “What if she stays?” Heskan challenged, “I think you are far more afraid of what happens if she stays than if she leaves.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh please- I’m old enough to know when two people are tied up in a red string,” the dragon tutted, “relax Vampling- the world isn’t actually out to get you.”  

 Astarion has no idea what Heskan meant about the red string or why he would be more afraid of you becoming a person than remaining a cat forever, but the excitement in your voice when he proposed the idea meant he couldn’t back out of it now. 

 Astarion would just need to convince you that he was worth traveling with and then he will have to keep every potential suitor far away so that he never has to worry about you running off. 

 It’s a simple plan and it will work easily- Astarion is not ready to lose your companionship and he likes to think that it won’t be that hard for him to convince you to stick around. 

 Right?

  +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 By the Gods you are going to get that damn squirrel if it’s the last thing you do.

 “Whatcha gonna do, pretty kitty?!” The conniving creature sticking out it’s tongue, “it’s hard to eat if you can’t catch your meal!”

  This has been going on for the last hour and a half- you finally had enough and addressed the squirrel directly, but it apparently felt the need to add it’s own flare to the situation. 

  You had decided to show Astarion you were perfectly capable of hunting your own dinner when you complained about the dryness of the hog he brought back. He finally told you to, and you quote, ‘feck shite’ (where that came from, you will never know), but you took the advice and now you are going to prove to him that you are perfectly capable of not being a dinner nuisance for him.

 Obviously- it’s going poorly.

 “‘Oh look at me! The dumb, cute gray ca-“ 

  You had had so much confidence earlier. Now you are being taunted by a squirrel. You are basically zoning him out at this point as you go back to the hypothetical drawing board, however, a specific rogue’s arrow gets to it first. You can hear the man chuckling from behind you as the squirrel drops to the forest floor.

“I would apologize for ruining your fun, Darling,” Astarion says, “but I don’t think there was any fun to be had. Well- except for the squirrel. He seemed to be having a good time.”

 You grumble and follow along miserably as you walk back to camp. Astarion is talking about something- probably making fun of you for the squirrel- but you are too in your head. 

 You don’t want to burden Astarion- you wish you could hunt like a normal person. You wish you could just be a fucking person again. Your world is so small and isolating and the only person you have is Astarion. You were able to stop by Waterdeep and spend time with Gale, Tav, and Tara which was fun- minus Tara goading you for your affections towards Astarion. You had been positively mortified and prayed to every God in all the planes that he didn’t hear her say that. 

 So far so good.

 “Darling?” Astarion asks with a sliver of concern in his voice, “Birdie? My flightless friend?”

 You snort at the last statement and roll your eyes.

 “Yes, my dear,” you say mockingly, “Astarion? My vampire friend?”

  When you look up at him- you can still see some concern on his face, but he looks more relieved than anything.

 “Oh good, you are speaking to me. I was worried you were upset with my poaching,” Astarion says, sitting down and starting a fire at your designated campsite for the evening.

  You honestly hadn’t really thought about it. You were relieved to have something for dinner.

 “Oh no,” you say with a dismissive wave of your tail, “I’m really grateful that you intervened- thank you.”

 Astarion frowns, “Okay- something is wrong.”

  You tilt your head at him and he releases a huff of annoyance.

 “You are not nearly as wonderfully snarky and Bardish as you usually are,” Astarion says pointedly, “so what’s wrong?”

   You stare down at your paws and sigh.

 “I just wish I could be myself again, I suppose,” you say sheepishly, “I feel like such a burden.” 

 “You are not a burden,” he continues to roast the squirrel, “hunting for the others? Now that would be a burden.”

  You hum in appreciation for his kind words. At least he doesn’t feel the same way you feel about yourself. You don’t know what you would do if he agreed with you. 

 Probably live with Halsin and Arabella- the Druid taking in the young orphan and any others who needed a home. You and Astarion have talked about visiting once he is able to walk in the sun- he wants to appreciate Reithwinn in the Sun.

“I’ve seen Reithwinn in more than enough darkness for a lifetime,” Astarion tuts, “but at least the ‘Lady of Loss’ wouldn’t be trying to kill me this time.”

  The two of you are engulfed in silence as you eat your freshly cooked squirrel (it’s terribly dry from being overcooked, but you honestly don’t care anymore). Astarion, on the other hand, continues to flip through Volo’s terrible book until one of his fingers begins to aggressively go over a page. You go into fight or flight mode when he slaps the book on the ground out of excitement- your tail puffy and your fur standing up.

 “You should, hypothetically, be able to exit your host for two hours, once a day in Incorporeal form,” Astarion shows you where the information is on the page, “it looks like the two hours is due to the Host being asleep for that two hours- anything after that means they could leave or slay you, but I’m not worried about that.”

   The information doesn’t seem real. There is no way Volo’s research is accurate- the man loves drama and creates impossible situations. However, you are just desperate enough to have some kind of reprieve from being stuck in cat form and it reads as simple enough. 

  You curl up into a ball in front of the fire while Astarion makes sure there are no potential enemies in the area- just in case this goes poorly and your feline friend decides to skeedaddle. Not that you think she will- she seems to rather enjoy your company there. She’s never complained anyway. 

 You close your eyes and focus- trying to remember not to over complicate things. It’s like body jumping, just without another body to jump into and most importantly you want to live again. You know that emphasis is important.

  Everything feels weightless and your head spins momentarily as you squeeze your eyes shut. Have you always been this dizzy? It feels like it never ends! 

 “Wow.”

  You open your eyes slowly and are greeted by the sight of a shocked looking Astarion- his mouth slightly open and his eyes wide. You assess the situation and put your hands out in front of your face or at least you hope they are hands and not paws. 

 Gods be damned- it worked!!!!!! An elated giggle leaves your lips when you see that you are still in your Anarchic Blue Outfit (which had been scandalous for the time period and it’s why you chose it). You even have the same delicate shoes and YOUR VIOLIN! 

 You hop up and down with delight- practically skipping over to one of Astarion’s mirrors and you are even more elated. Your hair and makeup are the same! 

  The only thing that gives you pause are the two puncture wounds on your neck. You wonder if you can find a way to make a scarf incorporeal so you don’t have to see them. Donella doesn’t get to brand you forever- especially not in your undeath. 

   You turn around and, in your elation, forget that Astarion doesn’t have a reflection so when you turn around- you find that he followed you over to the mirror. He still looks like he’s experiencing shock and you notice he isn’t breathing or really blinking- just staring. There’s something in his gaze that you can’t place, but you are sure he’s regretting this idea now.

  You can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed and self conscious. All of your squealing and childishness must be very off putting.

“I hope you don’t regret this,” You chuckle nervously, continuing when he doesn’t respond “am I at least weird and off putting in a pretty way?” 

  Astarion finally blinks to life and walks over with a large smile on his face.

 “Darling, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” Astarion muses, “my only regret is not finding this book much much sooner.” 

  Your grin feels like it could split your face open and a rush of cold goes to your cheeks. How strange.

 “Thank you, Star.” 

Author note: Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated! Please let me know if you would like to be on the tag list! I am using the Ghostwalk campaign for NPCs, locations, etc. It is a 3e Campaign and doesn’t mirror 5e Ghosts. I have tweaked some of the ghost powers and such for the sake of the story, but if you would like more information on Ghostwalk and the City of Manifest, there is a PDF online that is free to download :)

I also am so very sorry that this took forever to post. I was having a really bad mental health episode due to some overarching circumstances that are no longer a stressor. I already have the next two chapters written soooooooo

Tag List: @n3rdybirdee @fandomarchiveilyd @dajeong @hotmesshobbit @godoffuckedupcats @bitchstarion @hereliesblackdragon @pebble-bb @preciouslittlebhaalbae @lavvyan

[halloweenbitch2764]

Im sorry but Im just checking because the first time I sent my ask, it said error occurred. So Im resending this again just in case the first one didn’t come through!

Could you do NSFW FemFarmer x Penny when Farmer slept with many people in the past, but it’s Penny’s first time. Farmer kinda brags about it when they’re doing the deed, teasing Penny for being inexperienced, causing Penny to feel insecure. Oh, but give happy ending please! Love your works by the way! ❤️

I got it the first time so don't worry! I've just been contemplating how I want to write this one. Also I have yet to have actually romanced Penny so forgive if this feels OOC. I'm writing this based on how I see her.

THIS MAY BE A MULTIPLE PART READ. IF YOU ENJOY PLEASE COMMENT AND LET ME KNOW YOU WANT PART 2!

Experienced Reader, Inexperienced Penny (Part 1?)

Finally, you and Penny had some alone time. Between Pam being around, Penny teaching Jas and Vincent, and you doing your farm work, it seemed like you didn't really get to be around Penny like you wanted to. You two had been dating for a couple of months at this point.

You sat on her bed, watching as Penny cleaned up a couple of things that were on her bedroom floor. "Have you ever thought about having sex with me?" You asked, breaking the silence. Penny froze, and for a moment, you feared you had been too forward. "I mean, I totally get if not -" "Yes, I've thought about it." It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the full truth. She'd thought about it. She'd actually gotten off to the thought when she knew her mother was passed out for the night.

A blush dusted your face. It was the answer you hoped for but didn't necessarily expect. "Soooooo would you be interested?" She stood in front of you, making you look up at her. Your hands rested on her hips as you asked the question. "Yes, I would be." Her cheeks were rosy red, and she seemed shy at admitting to it.

You did a cheer in your mind before you suddenly pulled her skirt down. She squeaked, which made you laugh. "Damn baby, relax." She was wearing a pair of black panties underneath. "Sorry." She mumbled, causing you to chuckle. "No need to apologize. Guess I'm more used to it than you." You pulled her onto your lap and kissed her.

It started off slow but soon became more passionate, giving gentle bites at her lower lip and licking it. She seemed so shy to what was happening, but she didn't back away. Your hands moved to her shirt buttons, and you took it off of her, throwing it to the floor. You broke the kiss after a minute. "Take my shirt off." You instructed, and she did as told. Then she started to take your bra off. Well, tried. "Can't even get my bra off? Damn you must be new to this." You teased. She huffed softly in embarrassment while you took your bra off.

She copied your movements, taking her own bra off. You moved her so she was lying on her bed, and you crawled on top of her. You straddled her hips and let your hands play with her tits. Your thumbs ran over her nipples which hardened under your touch. Her breathing became more labored and uneven.

You started kissing her neck and slowly moved down to her collarbone and then her breasts. You wrapped your lips around her nipples, sucking on them and running your tongue over them gently. Soft whimpers came from Penny. You repeated your actions on her other breast before moving down. You pressed soft kisses to her stomach before reaching her panty line.

You looked up at her to see if she wanted you to stop, but she didn't. You pressed a kiss to her cunt through her panties. A soft, teasing gasp came from you. "Ooooo, somebody is excited." You teased. She hid her face in her hands in embarrassment. "So inexperienced." She suddenly frowned, shifting a bit as the mood seemed to change.

"What's wrong?" She avoided eye contact for a moment before she spoke. "I just... you've made a few comments about how I don't know what I'm doing. It's making me feel insecure and really inexperienced. I know I don't know what I'm doing, but you don't have to point it out." She rubbed her arm as she spoke. You hadn't mentioned her inexperience to make her insecure. It was more just to tease her some.

"I'm sorry I made you feel like that. I was just teasing you. I know this is all new to you, and I don't expect you to be an expert. You're doing great so far." She nodded a bit, and you kissed her gently. "Just relax, alright?" You said softly. She nodded again.

You moved back to your position between her legs and pulled her panties off. You kissed her upper inner thighs, nipping gently ever so often. Soft whines and whimpers came from Penny. You licked her pussy lips teasingly slow and her breath hitched. Suddenly, you let your tongue lick her slit. A soft gasp and moan came from her. You mentally giggled at the noises.

Your tongue gently swirled around her clit and poked at her entrance. Her hands went to your hair, and gripped it at the feeling as your tongue continued to move. She tasted sweet and even better than you could have imagined. You let your tongue play with her clit. Her hips bucked a bit at the feeling, and you used your strength to pin her hips to the bed.

You pushed a finger in her gently. She was soaking wet, and it didn't take long for you to add a second finger. She started moaning softly, sometimes muffling herself with her hand if she felt like she was being too loud.

"Fuck, fuck I-I'm close." She moaned out. Her fingers gripped your hair tighter. Your tongue ministrations became quicker, following the pattern that seemed to be getting her close. It wasn't long before she let out a loud moan and her cunt throbbed around your fingers.

She panted softly as you pulled your fingers out, licking the cum off of them as Penny blushed brightly at the sight (though it was impossible to tell).

After a little bit of catching her breath, she grinned at you. "Do you want me to try and make you cum now?"

[iheartchv]

Hey I was hoping I could get a cod matchup? Sorry in advance for the yapping

Umm as for appearance I am 5’4” in my early twenties. I have layered curly brown hair that comes to just above my shoulder, blue eyes, freckles pale as hell, a few scars here and there that I’m kinda proud of (from various causes) I don’t really have a specific style it can range from a tank top and sweats to t-shirt and jeans or something completely wild, color coded decked out in jewelry, skirts, layers the whole bit. Relatively active build, used to be a gymnast until an injury now I just workout twice a week w a friend. Interests; I like movies top five rn probably Scream (1996), Spiderverse, 10 things I hate about you, the last unicorn, Dead poets society, +Star Wars cause I can’t leave it out. I like playing chess every now and then, I’d say I’m pretty good but I still have a ways to go. I’m also an artist, and I like music I can’t do anything music related I just like listening to it, all kinds. I like baking when I’m stressed, typically cookies during finals week at 2 am. My future prospects, or at least what they are currently, is just going to law school, after that I’m not really sure, I’ve thought ab going the military route, both of my parents served/are serving, so I’ve thought ab the possibility of being a military JAG or something in Intel, but I’m still feeling for it, I mostly like law cause I’m pretty good at it and I like knowing more than people. I’m Bi so my taste in Men/Women varies. As much as I’d like to say I don’t have a type, hot people are hot, there have been patterns in the past few fictional guys. Tbh my taste in men is shit, like I don’t have daddy issues, I have a great relationship with him, but my past fictional crushes say other wise. But basically, capability is HOT, if they’re good at something to the point of mastering it I’m entranced. Women are just pretty, there’s not much there. I’m relatively paranoid, even describing myself like this online is strange, I think it’s just growing up around military but I’m typically just cautious. That and trust issues. I’ve done some martial arts/self defense and I think sparring is really fun I just need someone to teach me. Also I am a huge simp (with shit taste as my friends say) I’m an ambiavert, so I like to be pretty adaptable depending on who I’m around. I’m also German/American but definitely more American than anything else, I ‘grew up’ in south Germany and we still have family there but since we moved here I’ve forgotten most of  the language. JFC in hindsight I am SO SORRY about all this I got carried away. I hope it didn’t come across as self absorbed 😭😅 thanks 

Sorry again 

🤔 I'll pair you with...

Captain John Price 🚬

Price might be the one to fall for you

If you ever decide/decided to join the military, him and Laswell will look through files and find you

He can't help but feel that you would bring something to the table

Recruiting you, along with many others, he'd be watching you

Through the tests, he'd be silently hoping you'd pass

When he asks to see you, you think you've done something wrong

Instead he just tells you that you've done a good job with all the training and tests he's put you through

"I admit, I thought you would call it quits anytime soon... but... you're determination surprised me."

"You've got guts, spirit. I like that"

He wants to take you under his wing and train you

He was right about you; there was something special there

Though he didn't know just how special you would be to him later on 🤭

After many months and near death experiences later, he'd come to realize he cares about you... a lot

💞

When off duty, he will take you somewhere to talk

Price doesn't play games, you know that

So... he tells you that he really likes you

All this time he'd spent getting to know you, he felt something he hadn't in a long time

One time, when he looked like he was about to fall asleep he was surprised that you showed so much concern for him; You wanted to do something, anything, for him

His hand gently held yours, showing how gentle he can be

"If you'll have me, love, I can make you happy... even if it takes my whole life to"

[thebiscuiteternal]

I posted ancient fanart, now time for an ancient fic. I wrote this one in... hell, I'm not even sure. Before 2008 at least.

Warnings: Descriptions of injuries, internal ableism, the constant feeling of the sword hanging over your head

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

He'd always heard that the closer you were shoved to death, the sharper everything in that moment seemed, but he'd never really put any stock in it. But now, as he stared vacantly up at the ceiling of the hospital room, he was rethinking that disbelief.

The heat of the explosion shockwave, the wood and glass burrowing into his back as he hit the window, the sense of knowing he was going to die as he hit the ground and felt bone snap and muscle tear in a blinding flash of agony.

A sudden sharp twinge of pain between his shoulderblades made him want so badly to roll over onto his side, but the casts and bars around and through almost all of his body were having none of it.

He hadn't seen anyone but doctors and nurses since he'd woken up six hours previous, and, to his annoyance, they had no interest in telling him a damn thing other than it had been almost a month since he'd been brought in. It wasn't a bad thing for him to want to know how serious the damage was, especially since-

-no, he wasn't going to think about that. Or so he told himself. Despite his efforts at forcing down the voices that brushed his semi-conscious memories, they insisted on being heard again.

He's as good as dead. Just leave him.

Iscariot didn't believe in no man left behind. He'd known that since the day he took his vows to join the order. But still, the memory made something in his chest constrict, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he struggled to keep his breathing even. The slower and more shallow, the less it hurt. Morphine could only do so much.

He'd just recovered control of his nerves when the click of the door opening made him glance over, expecting another nurse, and he blinked in surprise when Father Renaldo poked his head in. "Ah, you're still awake. They finally told me it was alright to come in. How are you feeling?"

Only the knowledge that it would cause unimaginable pain kept him from snorting at the obviousness of the question. "Have they given you any details?" he finally managed, voice more hollow and weak than he would have liked. And the uncomfortable fidget the older man made was a sign that he would like the answer even less.

"Well… it's quite the laundry list, my boy. Concussion, broken collarbone, four broken ribs… Right elbow's cracked, left forearm's broken. Various bruises and contusions, left leg broken in three places…"

There was something else, and they both knew he was skirting. "Anything more?"

Renaldo took a deep breath, and a wash of fear went through him. "I'm sorry, Enrico," the man mumbled, then quietly left.

---

Shattered vertebrae and a severed spinal cord. He stared silently as the doctor finally gave him the truth that Renaldo hadn't been able to bring himself to say.

"Meaning-?" he couldn't help asking after swallowing back the sudden dry feeling in his mouth.

"There are therapy options, of course, and we could try surgery if you wish, but it's very likely that you won't be able to use your legs for the rest of your life."

He felt his stomach drop as the doctor got up from his seat and left, and he suddenly wanted to throw up.

Paralysis.

God, was there ever any more obvious death sentence? Biting his lip and covering his eyes with his good hand, he tried to pretend he couldn't hear the familiar, if muffled, voices outside his door.

"Have you gone soft? He's a liability now, we can't keep him. Especially not in that position."

"I know that, Alex, but we have no choice at the moment. No one was expecting this, and we don't have anyone trained enough to replace him."

Now he really was going to throw up.

---

Everyone knew their days were numbered when they went into the order. After all, there was no such thing as demotion or resignation in Iscariot. You either lived, died, or someone else chose which one for you. And now the choice was up to everyone else and how long he was useful.

A painfully sobering thought when he'd spent the majority of his life trying to wrest control of it away from others.

Sighing, Enrico opened one of the many folders he'd been brought and started on yet another sheaf of paperwork.

When he thought about it, really, he probably had a few months at the most. For all Renaldo had talked about training, making assignments and filling out forms wasn't that hard.

He'd probably be dead within the year, and someone else would be doing this.

That didn't mean he had to give them additional reason to kill him sooner, though. Despite the protests of the therapists and his own body, he was getting to a point that he could be mostly self-sufficient. With any luck, he wouldn't have to ask for any special modifications at all, although making do would be considerably difficult.

Just the thought of having to sleep in his old bed alone made his spine –what he could feel of it- ache, and he inwardly swore about the common habit of higher beds before turning his attention back to the papers in his lap.

Right, time to stop thinking too much. Back to work.

As he was working on the last authorization notice –and trying desperately not to fall asleep in the middle of it- he glanced up as voices started up –as usual- outside the door. But this time, the conversation was a little more interesting than talk of medications.

“Well, Father, it looks like he’ll be ready to leave today. I have to admit, he’s been quite the surprise. It’s not often we get someone so gung-ho about therapy so soon after their accident.”

“He’s always been headstrong.”

He inwardly bristled at the tone and bit his tongue to keep from muttering something particularly insulting about Anderson’s heritage. Or at least more insulting than what people said about his own. Whether the man heard it or not, it wouldn’t exactly go far towards his inner resolution to earn temporary respite from his execution through good behavior.

Forcing himself to keep quiet, he went back to work, and was finishing the last page when the man came in.

“Ready to go?”

“Sure,” he replied, matching the lack of emotion as he closed the folder and put it on the stack, then swatted off the cursory attempt to help him as he wrestled himself into the wheelchair. It hurt, and he was exhausted by the effort, but he reminded himself that the less he asked for help, the less nuisance he’d be.

And was that the barest hint of approval he saw on his former mentor’s face?

Probably his imagination, but it made him feel better nonetheless.

---

“Are the itineraries ready, sir?”

“There aren’t any.”

Renaldo glanced up, a slight note of surprise in his expression. “Might I ask why?”

“Because they’re useless,” Enrico replied, tone a little more exasperated than the carefully cultivated vacancy that had been in place over the last months. “I can give them all the directions I want, and the papers will have been thrown away before they even leave the building. It’s less a waste of my time just to point them in the right direction, let them do what they please, and just clean up the mess afterwards, considering it seems that’s all I spend my time doing anyway.”

He briefly regretted the brief outburst when the man arched an eyebrow at him, but the only response was a slight pat to the shoulder. “I understand, sir. Do you want me to handle the debriefing today?”

“No… I’ll do it.”

So he’d said, but as he pushed himself down the hall, he felt physically and emotionally drained.

While forcing himself to stop thinking –as much as he could, anyway- about when the proverbial axe would fall had helped, other worries and realizations had risen up to take its place.

Enrico spent more time these days than he would have liked remembering the man he’d taken this position from in the traditional way. How he’d been smiling as he bled to death.

Was it because the old man had finally been burned out by the same lessons that were being learned now?

Like the fact that Iscariot neither needed, nor wanted a leader, just someone to handle the fallout.

Or the fact that agents only behaved once you’d broken down and did things their way.

He wished his mind hadn’t gone that route, because then it followed that line of thinking to Anderson. The man had been considerably less of a stubborn ass since he’d gotten out of the hospital.

Since he’d stopped trying to take control.

He couldn’t help a bitter little chuckle, but didn’t want to keep going on that train of thought. Shaking his head a little, he forced himself to continue on his way down the hall.

---

His nerves prickled just before he felt the blade at his throat, and he barely lifted his head. “I’m assuming you’ve found a replacement.”

They both knew it wasn’t a question, but an answer –question- came anyway in the form of a small nick of pain and Anderson’s familiar rumble. “You knew this was coming?”

Despite himself, Enrico laughed, the sound hollow in his own ears. “Don't act so surprised. I’ve known since you told the other agents to leave me behind at the church, so I suppose it’s fitting that they picked you to finish the job.”

There was a huff from behind him, and the blade vanished as he looked over his shoulder then turned the chair, unable to keep himself from inwardly being amused at the expression on his caretaker his mentor the other priest's face. “What’s wrong? Don’t want to kill me now that you know I’ve been preparing myself for it?”

“I don’t want to kill you at all.”

“Don’t lie to me now, Father. You were the one who was so eager to get rid of the liability to the organization.”

“It’s because you’re a liability that-“

“What?” he asked when Anderson cut himself off mid-snap and turned away.

As always.

A small spark of anger rose in his chest, and he couldn’t resist throwing the man’s words from months before back at him, goading him. “Have you gone soft? Can’t kill me now that I’m not screaming back at you at every opportunity? Now that I’ve learned to just give in?”

The look that got was mixed irritation and pity and something he couldn’t identify, and the older man crouched in front of him, touching his cheek with the same almost -not quite- affection that had been there when he was small and vanished as he got older. “Is that what you think I’ve been trying to teach you?”

His insides went cold for some reason he couldn’t explain, and he suddenly wished he could squirm away. “Isn’t it? You were always such a pain until I stopped fighting you and always talking about how I had no right to be angry at-“

“I never said you had no right to be angry at your parents,” Anderson chided, leaving him suddenly feeling uneasy and unbalanced and confused as though he were six again. “Anyone who was abandoned as you are would feel angry. I told you that you couldn’t stay angry at the-“

“It’s the same thing!”

There was a small ringing noise as the bayonet hit the floor, and hands squeezed his shoulders. “It’s not. Enrico, I wanted you to learn to grow past your rage. To be something that wouldn’t require it to sustain you.” He pulled away and straightened. “You never should have been in Iscariot in the first place, because you didn’t have the right reasons for it.”

“Then why let me get this far? If you never wanted to let me in this position, or be here at all, why didn’t you just kill me in the trials. It would have been easy for you.”

“Maybe physically.” There was that look again, the one that he wasn’t sure what it meant. “I never enjoy having to kill someone I raised. And I still hoped that one day, you would finally get it. That it wouldn’t come to the point that you would be a danger to the organization.”

“I wasn-“

“You were.” The certainty in Anderson's voice stung. “All that ambition and rage, eventually it would have caused more problems than you were worth. The signs were all there.”

And then the incident. And then he’d been broken. So many ‘and thens’ that set up what he was now, which was apparently what Anderson had wanted to be, even if not for the reasons he’d thought.

He swallowed past the knot that had formed in his throat. “But it doesn’t matter, because you’re going to kill me now anyway. There’s no such thing as resignation, remember?”

“I know.”

But Anderson didn’t pick up the bayonet he'd dropped, and Enrico made a noise of surprised confusion as he was lifted out of the wheelchair instead. “What are you-“

“Hush.”

Startled into silence, he bit his lip, and wondered where they were going as Anderson carried him down the hall.

---

This hadn’t been planned, he reminded himself as he looked about the tiny bedroom apartment, and that fact somewhat impressed him.

In just a few short days, Renaldo had gotten him declared dead with no body or blood to prove it, and his replacement had been instated with no problems at all. In less than that, Heinkel had found this little apartment and arranged for its rent and utilities to be covered before Anderson had even brought him here.

He would be earning them, of course. Renaldo’s mind was still sharp, but his eyes were continually going, and who better to read important documents to him than someone who had experience and nothing better to do?

He wouldn’t be allowed to leave the apartment either, to keep his continued existence hidden, but what reason did he have to?

He could do this, he told himself. A quiet little life was better than no life at all, right? He’d been expecting to have his throat slit and his body to be left for the cleanup crew, so this wasn’t so bad… right?

Pushing himself over to the window, he peered out.

At least the view was nice…

A hand settled at the back of his neck, and he glanced up at Anderson before basking in the reassuring squeeze.

In a twisted sort of way, he’d finally gotten the two things he wanted the most, a family and the approval of his mentor.

He could be content with the way everything else had turned out.

Really.

He just had to keep reminding himself of that when the walls of the apartment seemed far too close.

[gnattyplayssims]

1958 Pt1 - The Meaning of a Rose

It was Love Day in Henford-on-Bagley and the Gnome's Arms was putting on it's yearly meet-and-greet for all the eligible young people in town. Kyler had insisted they attend and dragged Stefan along with him but it quickly became clear Stefan was the 3rd wheel

"Hi Kyler." A sweet voice chimed as they made their way to the back of the restaurant.

"H-hi Penelope. Fancy seeing you here."

"I mean you're the one who said we should go."

"No, right I did. I was just being...silly."

She giggled, "Come sit with me!"

"Yeah okay!"

Stefan watched in amusement as Penelope brushed off her skirt and straightened her hair while Kyler settled onto the couch as if they were the only two in the room. The two had been courting for some time now but they still acted like twitterpated birds when they saw each other.

"You look really pretty today, Pen."

"You really think so!? This sweater is so old but it's the nicest one I have. I think it smells kind of musty."

"No...um...you smell really good actually"

Stefan rolled his eyes but he couldn't help but smile. He was glad Kyler had someone.

Soon they were joined by Rosalie and her husband Mason. Even though the couple couldn't partake in the activities they'd still come for drinks and a chance to have an afternoon away from their infant twin boys. For awhile they just talked waiting for the activites to start.

"Oh Kyler, I forgot to tell you! Jazzy had her calf last night."

"Aw man, really!?"

"Yeah, I'm so sorry you missed it. I know how excited you were to be part of that."

"Did your dad name it yet. Cause I've been thinking over name's for months!"

"No I don't think so!"

While Kyler and Pen talked cows Rosalie turned toward Stefan. "I sure hope you're not thinking of running as soon as the activities start."

Stefan looked away, "Oh of course not!"

"Don't lie to me. You always bail and it's time you settle down."

"Eh leave him alone, Rosie"

Mason wrapped his arm around his wife and pulled her closer. Rosalie looked across at Kyler and Penelope who were in their own little world. "You just deserve to be happy like that Stefan. You're 24 already, it's time to settle down with a nice girl."

Stefan swallowed, "I know."

Just then the dinner bell went off and Penelope jumped to her feet. "It's time!" She grabbed Kyler's hand and pulled him off the couch "Come on let's go."

"Calm down Pen, I'm going, I'm going. Stefan you coming?"

"Oh yeah...I'll be right there. You guys go on ahead."

That was all the nudge Penelope needed as she turned toward the door and pulled Kyler along with her.

Kyler laughed, "Alright see you out there. Don't leave me hanging man. I saw a couple cute brunette's walk in not too long ago."

"Hey!"

"None as cute as you, Pen!"

As Kyler and Penelope ran out of the building, Rosalie turned toward her husband with a teasing smirk. She whispered something in his ear and he turned beet red and nodded. The two disappeared to a quiet corner and it didn't take a genius for Stefan to guess what they were up to.

Stefan sat in the silence that followed. He considered joining the activities but honestly he hadn't seen a single interesting girl walk in. Everyone expected him to settle down but no one made him feel the way Kyler clearly felt about Pen. He wanted to wait for a girl like that.

Kyler slipped out of the Gnome's Arms without being seen and took in the fresh country air. Someone was walking toward him and his heart flipped at how much they looked like Estaban.

As he got closer he suddenly realized...it was Estaban...right there in Henford.

Estaban stopped in front of him, a gentle smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "What are you doing here?"

"Your last letter said today was a special holiday."

"Oh yeah I guess."

"Are you leaving?"

"Yeah...it's not really my scene. I'm not really into...couply stuff."

"I brought this for you," He pulled a rose from behind his back, "You said it was customary on this day to give someone you like a rose."

"Oh um...Estaban it's beautiful but I think you misunderstand. The rose is for someone you like...romantically."

"I understand."

Stefan's heart was beating rapidly as he took a step forward and pressed his nose to the rose. He wrapped his hand around Estaban's and tried to focus on the rose's scent but Estaban hadn't moved and that just made him more dizzy. Estaban stroked his thumb and Stefan jerked away.

Estaban dropped his hands though they were still standing so close, nothing but the rose between them. "Estaban?"

"Yes."

"I'm not sure how it is in Salvadorada but...in Henford...men don't usually give roses...to other men."

"Ah...I'm sorry...I thought"

"You didn't know!"

Estaban took a step back but Stefan took his hand before he thought better of it, drawing him back. Estaban looked up at him and Stefan couldn't breathe.

He released his hand but Estaban stayed close. "I'm sorry Estaban. I'm really confused right now. And you make it worse."

Estaban nodded and Stefan moved past him as if they'd just been two strangers running into each other. Neither said anything as Stefan walked away. But as the distance grew between them, Stefan couldn't keep the smile from his face and Estaban knew Stefan just needed some time.

Back home Stefan stopped by the mailbox. He quickly ripped open the envelope when he saw the detective agency address on it. The results for the Omiscan plant were in and he scanned the page quickly.

"That's...that's not possible. There-there has to be some mistake."

1958 Pt2 - Never Alone

[jeweledflowers]

𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬. | 𝐃𝐲𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞.

Dylan Sean Blade doesn't really like much about the world.

It's a world that has been relentlessly cruel to him--his father's neglect, his mother's death, and Charlize, Charlize's departure was the worst.

A few months, a few years pass. He's still waiting for Charlize to come back--after all, he swore his loyalty to her. He promised to ruin this mighty empire, to be her lord and to take her as his lady.

So after this time, his aide announces that there is going to be an assistant for the crown prince. He doesn't want her--but he is struggling with his work and his sleep and his dietary intake and his tears every night over Charlize, so he agrees.

She's the daughter of a bankrupt noble family, well known for her excellent education. He expects her to be ambitious and to latch on to his arm and try to win him over to increase her family's status. He expects her to dress obnoxiously and tie her hair to the top of her head and wear shoes that loudly click against his floors. He dreads her and prepares for his expectations.

But she's dressed in a simple peach pink and white attire, and with chervil on a ribbon in her hair and flat shoes. She looks around the room with mild interest, and there's an instant air of friendliness and easy going attitude around her. She certainly doesn't seem like the ambitious, social climbing wench he was preparing for. His surprise at this plain, unsuspecting lady causes him to halt in the doorway of the room where she is waiting for him and as he enters the room, she stands and beams at him. 'Good morning, Your Highness!'

That look on her face. It's too bright.

'Good morning, my lady.' He smoothly responds, not letting her see the surprise. 'Take a seat.'

'I was going to, anyways.' She cheekily grins at him and laughs, smoothing her skirt with her hands.

He feels his heart fluttering against his ribcage and swallows. 'Well, my lady, here are some plans for the new academy being founded. We still needed the funding for the building, but now it's been obtained. Your task is to oversee this.'

A momentarily astonished look appears on her face. 'Your Highness-! But this is very important. Are you really trusting me with this?'

'I have other things to focus on, so yes. Mind it is all done properly, and ask Robert for help if you'd need it.'

With that, he turns on his heel and walks away, praying to god she didn't hear how loud his heart was thumping.

-

A few months later, Dylan is informed the academy is ready for opening. His eyes widen--already? She's more competent than he thought. He rubs his temples, his need for sleep overtaking him. He hasn't slept well, his dreams never changing pace for his assistant to Charlize.

'I wish to meet the lady.' Dylan abruptly states. 'Please tell her to get ready for a meeting.'

When she walks in, she's dressed as simply as ever, with a ring of flowering almonds around her head. She's flushed red and pink but manages to smile at him.

'Those flowers.' He asks, gesturing to her hair. 'Why those flowers?'

She touches them subconsciously and stares at him. Her eyes are as penetrating as his mother's had been. 'Do you know the Victorian Language of Flowers?'

He shook her head. Of course he knew what it was, but Charlize didn't find it important and told him there was no need to learn it. And he had always done what Charlize said.

'Well, in the language of flowers, flowering almond means hope. I hope the academy will do well, and that it'll be remembered as a good institute.'

He opened his mouth to speak. 'What are you--'

'Come out with me for ice-cream?' She offered. 'You know, a little bit of celebration. And I'll explain.'

He's about to decline, but his curiosity triumphs over his dislike of conversation with anyone who isn't Charlize or his mother. 'Alright.'

20 minutes later, they're aimlessly riding in the countryside in Dylan'a carriage, holding cups of ice cream. She hadn't stopped speaking since they left, and he could only stare at her--the bright eyes, sweet flowers, the way she brought the half full spoon up to her lips and swallowed before continuing on her tangent.

'Each flower can have multiple meanings.' She eagerly told him. 'Like the common thistle. It's defined as both misanthropy and austerity.'

'Misanthropy.' He repeated.

She nodded and the lights of the passing by houses played on her. 'Common thistle is everywhere,' she paused, 'which is perhaps why humanity is so unkind to both each other and the world.'

Dylan shook himself out of his reverie. For the past half hour, he'd been learning about flowers and shrubs and plants of all kind, and he wondered how this knowledge could retreat into the virtual unknown. He asked her this in his stumbling way.

She sighed. 'They need some rosemary, wouldn't you agree?'

'What's rosemary supposed to mean?'

'Remembrance.'

More silence. He doesn't know if he's ever looked at someone like this--not in the reverent, worshipping way he stared at Charlize, but with unconditional love blossoming in his chest and his heart painfully beating against his ribcage.

-

Eventually, they go from friends to something more. Neither of them know what to call it--they're not engaged and this is not official courting. But it's beautiful and he revels in it.

Being with her feels like forgiveness. He wants to soak it up, to wake up with her in his bed as sunbeams outline her figure, to face the next day feeling a little less hateful.

One day, he attempts to communicate to her with his own flowers. He takes lilac and some small white bell flower and leaves for her room, to press it under her pillow and hopefully she'll get the message.

But as soon as his hand withdraws from placing the flower, her smaller hand captures his wrist and the other hand dangles the flower tantalizingly.

'The first emotions of love,' her face flushed a youthful pink, 'and gratitude.'

She leans in closer to him. 'I always thought gratitude was more worthy to me, but I love you too, Dylan.'

She's much too close. He can highlight all her features and carefully preserves her in his mind so that in their next life he might be able to find her again.

And as he shuts his eyes and pulls her close against him, he thinks he should give her bellflower for every day of the year.

--

oh my god this is so sappy and ooc I'm so sorry

changing my theme in the morning (it's after 12am here) so yes

Tags! : @meenasmagic (hope you like it!) @itzkeii (this is written for you, forgive all the mistakes sksns-)

[frozenwolftemplar]

Writer’s Month Day 2: Perfume

Here we go! First post for the event on tumblr!

Fandom: Tangled: The Series (though it’s one of my ‘Little Cass’ fics, so it’s a ‘series adjacent’ sort of fic 🙃)

Rating: G (No Archive Warnings Apply)

Summary: One of the maids brought in a ‘big purchase’ she just made, and Cass is determined to Investigate the mysterious bottle of...whatever that is.

+++

“Oooohhh!”

“Heavenly!”

“Simply divine!”

The gleaming, glinting words of praise rustled like a fine lady’s skirts from the knot of dandelion-dressed maids occupying the far corner of the castle staff dining hall. They brushed sleepy morning cobwebs from the air as they promenaded gaily over abandoned mugs that sighed contentedly over their dregs, a wayward wooden betting fish left over from last night’s game of whist whose painted eye yearned after its school, and threaded over and under long utilitarian tables right into the pricked and searching ears of one Cassandra, crouched and invisible in the shadows under a bench.

She didn’t normally hang around in the dining hall after breakfast; nothing interesting usually happened then. Edith and Minnie cleared the dishes and talked over bows (strange bows that were handsome and dreamy and you wouldn’t mind your babies taking after, which made for a very weird picture; she never wanted babies, but knew if she did she would want them to look like people, not ribbons), sometimes Lazy John or Smith or some other Guard ran back in because they remembered they left their gloves or penknife at their seat, and that was that. Far more boring than the training grounds or stable yards or the Captain’s office.

 Today, though, was different. She was on a Most Interesting Mission: Jane, a wiry blonde-tressed maid with a snub nose, had brought in the special purchase she’d spent the past month saving her wages for (and being cagey about even as she bragged over her frugality and economy and a bunch of other things that made her stand taller and everyone else roll their eyes) and Cass was determined to find out what it was.

Thus, after breakfast, she crawled under a bench so no one would notice her and suddenly remember she should be watched, and sat quiet as a mouse, ears and eyes keen to scoop up any clues that fell her way. So far she had determined that the whatever-it-was:

Was expensive (since it cost a month’s of wages)

Was small enough to fit in a pocket (since Jane’s had bulged oddly when she came to breakfast).

Was something that made the other maids gasp when they saw it (pleased gasps, not the kind they made when she showed off the big frog she’d caught all by herself).

Was something Elisa the kennel girl (the sole non-gasper) wasn’t interested in, since she left as soon as she saw it and didn’t stay to partake in the ensuing passing-around of the treasure.

Was, with a clever wink courtesy of Jane, ‘for tonight’ (whatever that meant; Cass knew there was some sort of celebration going on in the square, but every time she asked Daddy what ‘Matchmaking’ was, he got distracted. She was hoping it involved a big game of concentration, which she was *very* good at).

Now, from her Investigating Spot, Cass nibbled thoughtfully on a nail, adding her newest batch of clues (Was ‘heavenly,’ ‘simply divine,’ and, as Fallon was saying just now, ‘just like a Lady’s’) to the ones she’d already gathered. What could Jane have got that was expensive, maid-happy-gasp inducing, and worthy of all those pretty and dancing words but not Elisa’s attention?

She turned them over in her head, knocked them against each other like pieces of a puzzle, trying to figure out how they fit together so she could see the picture they formed. Not a dagger or anything really neat like that, the maids didn’t appreciate the finer things in life; probably not a book, ‘cause then Elisa would have stayed; jewelry....hmm...maybe? That could be it- 

“I love the scent!” 

The puzzle picture crumbled at this newest piece of information, landing Cass back at square one, no closer to solving this mystery than she was when she started.

She huffed, propping her chin in her hand and slumping dispiritedly. Maybe she should try a different tactic...

“Alright, girls!”

The bonneted heads turned at the brisk sound of Frau Dagmar clapping her hands from the doorway. “That’s enough of that. You’ve had your fun, now it’s about time you started seeing to your duties lest you want to work through tonight’s festivities. On with it!” 

Frau Dagmar was not one to be challenged, a Captain among the frilly, flighty maids, so in less time than one could say “Yes, ma’am,”  the room was emptied of all persons save one.

Crawling out from her hiding spot, Cass frowned, brushing dirt from her skirt. Well, so much for that. Everyone left. Now she’d have to find another way to figure out what Jane’s big purchase was (technically, she could ask, but what was the fun in that?). 

She was just about to turn and head out of the hall to skulk around the mending room for more crumbs of reliable gossip when the corner of her eye snagged on something bright and glinting from the table where the maids had gathered.

Cass’s eyes widened as a triumphant grin burst across her face.

In the bustle of passing-around and leaving-for-work, Jane’s purchase had been left behind!

She’d certainly notice (Jane was uncommonly sharp for a maid), so she would have to be quick about it. Hurrying over, Cass climbed up on top of a bench at the table in question. There, resting temptingly close to the edge, was a bottle.

But not a normal bottle. This one wasn’t tall and oblong with a long, skinny neck. Instead it was stubby and squat, reminding Cass of a sun sparrow sitting with puffed breast atop a fence-post, and had a little rosebud of a neck. It was made of glass, or at least it appeared to be, but it wasn’t smooth like a mirror or a windowpane; it was bumpy all over, a raspberry of a bottle, the image made complete by the pale-pink liquid prettily filling it.

Cass canted her head to a side, brow furrowed. This was Jane’s big purchase? A tiny bottle filled with juice (because what else could it be)? What was so great about that? Maids really were weird; good thing she was going to be a Guard.

That’s when Cass noticed something else about the bottle: it was uncorked.

For a long moment, the empty mugs and lonesome fish and Albert’s left-hand glove played enraptured audience to the sight of Cassandra working her way through a most thorny dilemma.

On the one hand, Jane had brought the bottle to the common area, passed it around, and carelessly left it unattended when she left. Basically, this constituted an open invitation for further touching and Investigating.

On the other...

“Cassandra! How many times must I tell you? Don’t touch!!!”

Cass shrank in on herself with a whimper and scooched back a little on the bench, as though it was the bottle itself shouting the reprimand instead of the faint, dusty echo of voice that raced up, biting as a winter wind, from some deep dark corner of herself her thoughts couldn’t (wouldn’t?) go. It hurt, that voice, a stinging switch against her calves, an iron hand wrenching her arm back so it would do as the voice commanded, just...making her feel so bad. And even though she didn’t know who or where it came from, it still kept her hands twined around the remnants of her ponytail and *not* reaching for the bottle, because she was never supposed to touch bottles like this.

But...

The light streaming through the window glinted playfully, temptingly, on the glass, scattering specks of rainbows across the table as it laughed over the raspberry bumps. It was the sort of bottle that wanted to be picked up, rolled satisfyingly between your palms, and have the rosy liquid inside Investigated.

And again, it was like Jane was inviting her.

Shaking off the silent command keeping her hands to herself, Cass reached for the bottle, lifted it to her nose, and sniffed.

WHOA!

Cass jerked her head back, nearly tumbling off the bench, nose tingling ferociously from the cacophony of scents that had leapt into it. Still keeping ahold of the bottle, she rubbed her nose furiously to stamp out a forthcoming tattletale of a sneeze. She’d smelled a lot of things around the castle, but nothing like this. Clearly, this juice couldn’t make up its mind what it wanted to smell like. 

Part of it was citrus-y, pert sunshine and a laugh waiting to be had; another part was apple-y, smooth and round and honest as the autumn sky; yet another part was flowers, so many flowers, a contingent that would have the castle gardens waving the white flag. All things that smelled nice on their own, but evidentially did *not* get along when all crammed into the same bottle.

Cass’s confusion sharpened as she regarded the bottle, liquid laughing as it sloshed against the sides. Fallon’s nasally voice had said it was a ‘lovely’ scent. How could anyone think this was ‘lovely?’ Honeysuckle was lovely. This was not. Maybe she was missing something? Or maybe Fallon just had a weird idea of ‘lovely?’ That would make sense.

But what about the other maids’ praises? Cass frowned, thinking harder, then grinned with sudden realization. Of course! This was juice! What mattered was how it *tasted!* That’s what the other maids must have been enjoying! This stuff must be a reverse of coffee, which smelled great but tasted terrible: bad smell, heavenly and simply divine taste.

Cass beamed. Boy, was she great at figuring things out! Now to celebrate her victory with a taste (because clearly, Jane was okay with that and it was only fair).

With that thought in mind, Cass lifted the bottle to her lips just as Jane opened the door.

“CASSANDRA!” “YIPE!’ *CRASH!* ************************* “There.” Cass stood back from Rapunzel so the princess could fully take in her reflection in the floor-length mirror. “Done.”

Rapunzel grinned at her reflection, clad in a leaf-green dress cut to the latest fashions (sleeves long and neckline short), golden hair in an elegant pearl-studded braid, and sun-shaped topaz pendant resting against her collarbone.

State dinners had their drawbacks, but dressing up like this wasn’t one of them.

“Thanks, Cass.” Rapunzel grinned at her friend in the mirror as Cass collected discarded gowns (arriving at the green had been a lengthy process). “Hope this didn’t take too long.”

“It’s fine, Raps.” Cass glanced at the clock, then the darkening sky, and sighed, picking up a purple dress whose damning fault had been three-quarter sleeves (”I wear those everyday; I want something special tonight”). “What matters is you’re set now. Head on down while I-“

“Wait!”

Cass froze, hand poised over a sky-blue dress (“It doesn’t feel like a ‘blue’ day”).

“I almost forgot!”

“Raps...” Cass’s groan followed Rapunzel as she darted to her vanity. “I *promised* your dad you wouldn’t be late again. You have enough jewelry.”

“It’s not that.” Raps spun back, presenting Cass with a small faceted bottle filled with clear liquid. “Perfume!”

“Ugh.”

“Huh?” Rapunzel’s brow wrinkled as she blinked at Cass’s disdainful expression. “Don’t you like perfume, Cass?”

“Nope,” Cass said remorselessly.

“Why not?” Rapunzel uncorked the bottle and took a whiff. “It’s heavenly!”

Cass huffed as she tossed a different green dress onto her armload (”Wait, didn’t I wear this last time?”) as Rapunzel poured some on a handkerchief and dabbed it behind her ears. “If your idea of ‘heavenly’ is smell so strong they’re shunned by the natural world.”

“Oh, come on, Cass! Perfume’s *fun!*”

“Not for me.”

A teasing grin wended across Rapunzel’s face as she crossed her arms and watched Cass pick up the last of the dresses strewn about the floor and head for the closet. “Come on, Cass; are you really telling me you’ve *never* worn perfume?”

For a moment, Cass froze, rifling through memories and the roster of castle staff (of which Jane was no longer part), then said, decisively, “Nope.”

Because really, even if there *had* still been a witness to testify otherwise on the palace payroll, accidentally dumping an entire bottle of citrus-apple-flower perfume on yourself when you were five so you wound up smelling like a tropical cider press for a solid week didn’t count.