#i've got plans though so stay tuned

[miniscule-meow]

Something Unexpected (16)

Writing Masterpost

Part 1

Part 15

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Wordcount: ~2.3k

~*~*~*~

The party for their engagement finally rolls around. The staff around the castle had been in a dither about it for weeks. Day after day Princess Larkspur has had to sit, literally chained to a table making decisions that really have no point whatsoever. It was completely asinine. A group of ladies crowd around the table showing her different swatches of fabric, holding different gatherings of flowers. They ask millions of questions, what’s the color scheme, what type of flowers does she prefer, how should the table settings look, what color should the napkins be. They went on and on and on. It made her want to chew her own leg off so she could finally be free of the bindings and just fly out of there. She wanted to scream, “I don’t care!” at the top of her lungs, over and over again.

But she quells her frustrations thinking back to the conversation that Prince Oliver had with her. He told her to play by his rules and to be on her best behavior and that might earn her some better treatment. Do the opposite, and it isn’t hard to see how things could become so much worse. So, she figures she might be able to earn herself some extra freedoms here by playing nice. And besides, it might impress the right people if she does a good job, and that might earn her extra freedoms as well. At this point, she would do nearly anything to not have to wear the golden chain and be escorted around the palace.

The guards walk her about like some kind of dog, it is humiliating. At the very least, these ladies appear to be valuing her opinion. No matter how annoying it is, they are actually listening to her, she has to give them that. She is being treated like a proper princess, fulfilling the duties she is called to do. Apparently, if she had grown up in this cursed, backwards human society, this is the very thing any young girl would dream about doing. So, she picked floral arrangements, and she picked colors. She even entertained the subject of tablecloths and napkins for about two hours.

It takes the whole day for everyone to get her ready for the party. Her makeup is done for her, in her opinion it is entirely too detailed to be seen by any of the humans in attendance, but no one asks her. Her hair is twisted half up in an several elegant braids that come together elaborately into a neat bun, the rest is left flowing over her back in copper waves. She wears a green dress that is honestly stunning. It hugs her waist just so, and the skirts flow gently to her ankles. The front has a high halter neckline with a plunging golden mesh section that goes down nearly to her bellybutton. The back is nonexistent, allowing her wings free range of movement behind her.

Her wings shimmer with fine fairy-made jewelry that doesn’t incumber her flight, not that she imagines she’ll be doing much flying. She is absolutely dripping with jewels. The whole outfit is of course ruined by the golden band that is locked onto her ankle as she steps out of the room set aside for the fairies. Prince Oliver meets her at the door.

“Princess.” His voice is low, and formal. He barely even looks at her. He’s handed her chain and he simply attaches her to his lapel. “You may rest upon my shoulder.” He says this in a way that doesn't seem to be a suggestion.

Her stomach turns knowing that she spent all day getting all done up like this, just to be an accessory on his jacket. She’ll have to be his perfect little boutonniere. She grimaces and perches herself on his shoulder as he directed her to, unsure of where else she would even go.

This is going to be incredibly boring. She thinks dryly as Prince Oliver leads her into the grand ball room. Music is playing lightly from a string quartet across the room. So many humans are already milling about. The lady’s dresses all look heavy and dull, the men’s suits look incredibly stiff. This certainly isn’t a party for fairies. Lark isn’t convinced that this is even what a party for humans is supposed to be.

It’s so dull, everything is so rigid. Especially watching the humans perform their so-called dances. Everyone moves about like clockwork. Everything is so specific and planned. Of course, she cannot join in. She asked Prince Oliver if he wanted to dance, and he huffed a short mirthless laugh in response. She supposes she is much too small to participate, so she is stuck observing from the sidelines. At least Prince Oliver has to sit and watch and be just as bored as she is.

The night dredges on at a snail’s pace. People crowd around them, talking to the prince, and ignoring her completely. Or, they step too close to coo over her like she’s some exotic hamster with wings. Some cringe at her from a distance, as though she were some over-sized moth. She catches a group of ladies sneering over at her, then giggling and whispering to one another. Certainly they’re jealous that a “little thing” like her could have taken the prince’s hand away from them. Not that they would have had a chance anyway. Lark is very impressed that she is able to keep herself from rolling her eyes. I would gladly trade places with you, if I could. She thinks bitterly.

The monotony of the party drags on, but the worst part absolutely has to be the eating. All the humans are gathered together at one long banquet table. She is ceremoniously unpinned from her captor’s- or rather- her prince’s lapel, and she is affixed to her own place at the table. She is just on the table, level with the plates. They couldn’t be bothered to give her an elevated place, though they did make a single table her size for her to sit at. She supposes she should be grateful for that at least.

She feels an aching loneliness inside her heart. How grand it could have been, where her prince not a tyrant, where this kingdom not so monstrous. This party could have intermingled fairies and humans together in one crowd. This party could have symbolized a coming together of the kingdoms. This party could have actually been fun. But no. She is the lone fairy in the crowd, an oddity, a prize that has been won. This is only punctuated by her sitting alone in a sea of humans looking down on her, if they decide to pay any mind to her at all.

Before her is a mass of shifting hands, and walls of bodies. Everything is so loud. Cutlery scraping over plates, everyone is shouting and laughing and chewing. A hundred things are happening all at once, and she feels like she might explode.

It all comes to a head in one slow-motion moment. A glass is carelessly tipped over, spilling its contents all over her. It soaks her beautiful emerald gown with wine and the rolling glass shoves her little table clear to the floor. She flies up, out of the way of the glass, and is quickly smacked out of the air, engulfed in a palm. She is whisked up and away from the danger but the chain connecting her to the table snags taut and jerks her leg painfully. She lets out a small shout as Prince Oliver mumbles a curse under his breath.

She realizes all at once that this is the first time that he’s held her. Every other time they have interacted he has elected to touch her as little as possible. A guard would place him where he wanted her, and deal with her chains. Perching on his shoulder earlier today was the closest they had been. But now, his fingers completely surround her. He holds her just a little too tight. She feels her heart hammering against her chest, her wings pressed uncomfortably, but not painfully, against herself. She finds it hard to breathe with her face squished against his massive digits and his fingers constricting her ribs. She squeezes her eyes shut and tries to pretend that she isn’t being semi-suffocated by his clumsy fingers. She supposes she should be glad that she doesn’t have to bear the weight of a table full of humans resting their eyes solely on her. Think positively Lark.

Once he gets her unchained, he holds her cupped in both hands, like a child that has just caught a firefly. He excuses himself and carries her off, away from the noise of the party.

He plops her soggy form down onto a bathroom counter, letting the chain fall limp around her. The first thing he does is not check on her. Instead, he first washes his hands, drying them before taking off his jacket and setting it neatly aside. She looks down at her dripping gown, trying to wring out some of the wine as he rolls up his sleeves. He turns the faucet on once more, testing the water temperature with a finger before he collects her in his hand. Wordlessly, he brings her under the stream of water.

“Stop! Stop! Stop!” She shouts, completely soaked through. He jerks her backwards, out of the water as she sputters.

“What? Too hot?” He reaches a hand forward to check the water temperature again. She pushes wet hair out of her face to more properly glare at him.

“No! You are trying to drown me!” She shouts, all of the fear and humiliation from the night threatening to boil over in this moment

“I am not. I am just trying to help.” He furrows his brow down at her, setting her down with a wet plop and shutting off the faucet. Obviously, he doesn’t understand how being held in a loose fist and doused under a waterfall would not be helping the situation.

“You are not helping! This is so much worse! How would this not be worse?!” She flexes and balls her hands a few times, trying to calm herself down, trying not to cry. “Can’t you just take me back to the room and let me put something else on? This dress is ruined, my hair is ruined, my makeup is ruined.” She huffs, exasperated. “I’m fine, by the way. Not that you asked." She glowers a moment before adding "And my leg hurts, thanks to you and your stupid chain, but aside from all that, I guess I’m fine!” She’s shaking with rage.

Prince Oliver doesn’t even apologize. He frowns down at her, and nods. He dries his hands and collects his jacket. He picks up the end of her chain, like he’s going to walk with her down the hall like the guards to. If she were his size she thinks she would try to strangle him.

“Well?” He says, obviously impatient.

“I. Can’t. Fly.” She shoots back, obviously equally impatient.

“What do you mean you can’t fly?” He furrows his brow again. He does that a lot, she hopes he gets wrinkles.

“I mean I can’t fly! My wings are soaked, but who’s fault is that.” She sneers up at him.

“Tch. Fine.” He collects her in his hands again. It’s just as uncomfortable as it was the first time. Maybe even more so considering that she’s absolutely drenched now. It's clear that doesn’t like holding her. Well good. She thinks, because she doesn’t like being held.

She gets herself cleaned up, with the help of her ladies in waiting. They all of course want to know what happened, and after that they just want to gossip about the party. It must all be so romantic and exciting to them. She grimaces, but lets them keep their fantasy. Rose colored glasses and all.

They dry her wings, put her hair up in an attempt to mask how wet it is, and her makeup is re-done. She wears a new dress. This one is powder blue with sheer puffy sleeves that come to a cuff at her wrists. The top ties behind her neck, but the bodice is corseted below her wings. The skirt billows around her, though stops just below her knees. Oh, these humans will be so scandalized when they can see her ankles and her shins. Good, she hopes it makes one of them faint.

She is escorted back to the door, there is a landing in the human sized door where a fairy sized door is cut out. As she reaches for the doorknob she catches the tail end of a conversation.

“…A shame that you have to babysit that little insect.” It’s a woman’s voice. Prince Oliver grumbles something in response, but notably does not defend her. “You must not be having any fun at all.” She can hear the pout in her voice through the door.

“It’s not about me. It’s about my kingdom.” He says nobly, Lark rolls her eyes while she can. She clenches her jaw and quietly peaks out the door. She sees the prince and some lady that she might have met in passing at the party. She’s pressed up against him, her arms slung over his shoulders, he has his arms caught around her waist and is holding her close to him. Lark quickly retreats back behind the door, her stomach twisting itself into knots. She wasn’t foolish enough to think that her and that monster could fall in love or anything, but the realization drops in the pit of her stomach. This is how it is going to be. He will have his love, and she will be the decoration adorning his lapel. What a sorry existence.

But what he said is true for her as well. It isn’t about her. It’s about her kingdom. The sacrifice of her freedom right now is saving all of the innocent families back home from unimaginable suffering. The tension between her kingdom and the human’s kingdom was only getting worse and this arrangement brings peace.

If she was being honest, it could be worse. She could be locked in a metal cage; she could be starved; she could be dead. She’s still a princess. She goes to banquets; she wears fine gowns. So what if she’s kept on a leash and has no one to talk to. It’s for her kingdom. She nods thinking to herself, Alright. peptalk over, lets go finish this heinous night.

[hairmetal666]

They're sitting in Eddie's bedroom, Steve propped up in the bed, flipping through some sports magazine, Eddie curled on the floor using his knee as a table as he scrawls notes for Hellfire's next campaign. Metallica spins on the record player, volume low. They're doing this more and more, being together and doing their own thing, music a soft backdrop to it all.

Eddie's deep into his planning, enough so that he manages to forget that Steve Harrington is in his bed. He keeps hearing something, though. It just manages to catch at the edge of his awareness, but when he fully tunes in the only sounds are Steve flipping a page, Ride the Lightning, the shift of blankets as Harrington taps his fingers. It happens a few more times, but when he tries to catch it, it's gone. Steve hasn't reacted at all, to the point Eddie wonders if it's all in his own head.

The next time, he's interrupted before he even gets back into it, that noise again, but this time, now, he's aware enough to see that it's Steve. And he's not, like, reading the magazine out loud to himself. No. He's singing along.

To Metallica.

And he wasn't idly tapping his fingers before. He was tapping along to the beat.

"You're singing along?" He asks before he can stop himself.

Steve looks up, a faint smile on his handsome face. "It's not too bad."

"Not too--Not too bad." Eddie's nearly screeching. Can't wrap his mind around Steve--"You've been listening to Metallica on your own? You've been--you--" He jumps to his feet, notebook spilling onto the floor. Steve's just looking up at him with big eyes and a gentle grin.

"Sure, Munson. You like it, yeah?"

He nods, mutely, unsure how he so thoroughly lost the plot that Steve's been listening to Metallica just because Eddie likes it.

"Got a taste for any other metal bands I should know about, Harrington?" He flops down on the bed, making Steve bounce a little.

"Well, Dio's pretty okay."

This time Eddie does really, actually shriek.

---

Eddie swans into the kitchen to greet Steve, who's already lounging on the couch with a beer. There's another one on the coffee table, waiting for Eddie.

"Just helped yourself, Harrington?" He teases.

Steve shoots him a look. "Wayne grabbed them before he left. What the hell took you so long?"

He can't say it's because he wanted to look nice with Steve coming over, even if they are just getting high and watching movies. Of course taming his hair took so long that he didn't have time to find a shirt, and Steve's knock at the door had him grabbing the first thing he could and jamming it over his head.

"You want chips?" He asks.

"Wait--Eddie--" Steve stands, pointing at Eddie's chest.

"What?"

"That's my--oh my god, I've been looking for that."

And, well, he had thought it was a little strange that the t-shirt he grabbed was gray. He pulls at the fabric, stares at the upside down Hawkins Tiger with a basketball in its mouth.

"It's my favorite sleep shirt. I thought Robin took it and you--"

Eddie's face heats. Steve's shirt. Of course. Steve stayed over one movie night, forgot the shirt, and Eddie. Well. He was going to give it back, but--

"Here, man, my bad." He goes to pull the hem over his head. "I didn't know it was your favorite."

"Nah," Steve says. He's sitting back on the couch. "You should keep it. You look really--" he pauses and takes a sip of beer. "It's nice on you, Munson."

He's sure his blush is a horrendous thing to witness, has to fight the urge to hide in his hands. "Right. Uh. Chips!" He whirls towards the cabinets, refusing to think about the matching pink stripes across Steve's cheeks.

---

"C'mon, Munson, you're hogging the covers." Steve's sleepy mumble cuts through the dawn quiet.

"Mmph," Eddie groans. Rubs the soles of his feet against Steve's shins.

"You're a dick," Steve grumbles. He shimmies closer, which is what finally does the job at fully waking Eddie.

"Wha--huh?" He blinks.

"You stole the blankets, man. If you're not going to share, the least you can do is cuddle."

"Uhh." Eddie is sure he's dreaming, but Steve's warm, strong arm slips around his waist, pulls them together.

Eddie doesn't know what to do. Where he should put his body. Does he relax into it? What do his arms do? They're not usually this rigid, right? But what do they do when he's sleeping? Somewhere in his gay panic, he has the presence of mind to grab the edge of the blanket and throw it over his friend.

"Better?" He asks. His voice is all wrong but maybe Steve will attribute it to tiredness.

"Mmm." Steve's grip tightens around his waist, his nose nuzzling against the nape of Eddie's neck. His breathing is already slow and deep.

Eddie can't imagine sleep finding him anytime soon. Not when Steve, his crush, his best friend, is holding him like this. Not when he now knows what the real thing would be like. Not when it's so impossibly out of his grasp.

---

Steve and Wayne are watching a Cub's game. Eddie's curled up on the couch between them, trying to work on a sketch, but his brain keeps skipping to a song he's writing. The lyrics have been easy, coming to him like nothing, but the melody...he wants it to be heavy, loud, wanting, but it won't fit.

He glances up at Steve, chatting with Wayne about some baseball thing called a ribee. His hair's not done, flopping softly around his forehead, and he's wearing his result-of-too-many-concussions glasses, the yellow sweater from that horrific boat ride, retrieved by one of the kids and painstakingly washed by Karen Wheeler.

Steve looks sweet, soft, relaxed. He laughs at something Wayne says, and Eddie's a lost cause. He's just fucking smiling at the pretty boy on his couch, hanging out with his uncle, too far gone to be able to fight it.

A melody forms in his head, and it's soft. Not sweet, no, but gentle. Almost tender. Nothing like he imagined.

---

It's early, early enough that Wayne's not home yet, but he got tired of trying to sleep. Didn't want to bother Steve, who still softly snored in Eddie's bedroom. So, he grabs his acoustic and his notebook, goes out to the couch to work on the song. It's coming along, really good, one of his best. He hasn't shared it with the guys yet. It's--he's not ready, lays him too bare.

There's a clatter from the kitchen, Steve's voice, deep and sleep rough, says, "Hey, Munson."

He pushes the guitar and notebook aside. "Did I wake you? I was trying to be quiet, I'll--"

Steve shakes his head, pads into the living room. He's wearing the yellow sweater, a pair of Eddie's sweatpants, bedhead rampant. He curls up next to Eddie, pulling the couch afghan over his feet. "What're you working on?"

Eddie's ears get hot. "Nothing much. New song I've been noodling on."

"Cool." Steve's smile is little and fond. "Play it for me?"

"Ahh," Eddie says. His hand twitches around the neck of the guitar. "Not sure if it's quite ready for that."

"Oh, yeah." Steve nods. His face does something weird and squiggly that Eddie's never seen. "Just never heard you play before. Thought now might be...you know."

Eddie swallows, hard. "Well, maybe we'll get a show up at the Hideout soon."

"Of course. It's just--this is just you."

He blinks at Steve for a few long seconds, can't believe he's about to do this, but--It's not like Steve will know it's about him, anyway. "It's not a full song yet, alright? Just a verse and half of a chorus, so like. Don't judge it too hard."

"I would never." He can sense Steve's smile but can't look directly at it, knows it would kill him.

He situates the guitar, spins the notebook to read the lyrics like they aren't already burned into his brain, starts to play. His fingers are deft and sure, his voice a little rough, a little raspy with nerves.

The song ends and he's afraid to look at Steve, to see the thoughts written plane on his face. The silence extends, though, and he asks. "So, what did you think?"

"It's--that wasn't what I expected." Steve's voice is weird. Wobbly. Eddie chances half a glance at him, but can't make anything definitive out from his expression. "I didn't think--that's not the kind of music I thought you made."

He licks his lips, swallows. Puts his guitar down. "It's not usually."

"It was a love song." Steve says. His eyes burn into Eddie's.

He can't say anything for seconds that seem to span minutes. "Yeah, Steve," he says in a voice cut with gravel. "It's a love song."

"Eddie," Steve whispers. He reaches out then, thumb tracing along Eddie's jaw, the scars that linger there from the bats. "Is this okay?" He can only nod as Steve's hand twines through his curls.

He's shaking, just a little bit, not because he's inexperienced but because this is Steve, because it's happening, because their lips are meeting and a trembling noise falls from his mouth at the sweet way Steve kisses him.

It's gentle and quick, but they don't part when the kiss ends, stay sharing air as their foreheads rest together. Eddie can't stop smiling.

"Please tell me I'm not dreaming, Stevie" he whispers.

"You dream about me?" Steve asks, eyes blazing.

"I wrote a song about you, and you think dreams are a reach?"

Steve laughs, brushes a kiss against the tip of Eddie's nose. "I loved the song."

"Yeah?"

"Can't wait to hear the whole thing."

"Well, stick around for a while."

Steve leans in, kisses him again, longer this time. "Just try to get rid of me, Munson."

[storiesofsvu]

Decadent Desires Ch 21

Emily Prentiss x reader Warnings; language, minor alcohol, minor anxiety/worry but it's all fluff otherwise. 3k. Wow. We're finally here. It lowkey feels super surreal. The passage of time is wild and I don't remember when I started writing this fic, though I know I had a lot of it written before I started posting so that likely makes it seem longer. When it all comes down to it, this is one of my favourite fics that I've written. I'm proud of it. I'm incredibly thankful to everyone who's been reading it, reblogging and commenting, you are all wonderful and amazing. Stay tuned for plenty more one shots and lots of fun with our favourite characters in the future! Don't wanna miss a fic? Sign up for taglist here! Liked the story? Send me a ko-fi!

Now that you’ve finished the fic please feel free to head into my inbox & leave a legit honest review!! It helps me know what y’all like, what you didn’t like & how to improve future writing both here & elsewhere! 😘🩷

To say that Emily’s mind was not focused over the next twenty four hours would have been an understatement. She knew that dinner was occupying her thoughts, trying to think of the best way to get her words out without fumbling all over them or saying the wrong thing. She almost considered practicing by writing them down, having a speech ready to go if she forgot what she was supposed to be saying. She started to wonder if that alone was enough, if words would be strong enough to win you over or if she needed to stop for flowers, dessert or even something fancier on the way over to your place.

She thought she was doing a decent job of keeping it under wraps while at work until Tara asked what break in the case her and DiNozzo had discovered. When Emily’s brow furrowed the other woman pointed out Tony had been in her office for nearly an hour, the two of them involved in a deep conversation and she could only assume they’d discovered something. Emily’s cheeks burned as she bluffed the best reasoning she could think of before excusing herself back to her office. While the case had been the original reason Tony popped into her office, she’d roped him in to staying, saying he was the king of all movies and tropes, wondering if maybe now was the time for some grand gesture.

He'd shot that idea down, which is why she was pulling up to your place empty handed except for a bottle of wine. The biggest grand gesture she was planning was to greet you with a kiss neither of you would be able to forget. Her heart thudded against her rib cage as she waited for the elevator, letting out a breath in an attempt to relax herself the best she could, a kiss was a kiss, the worst thing that could happen was that you wouldn’t read into it the way she did.

You swung the door open, a soft smile on your cheeks as you stepped back to let her into your apartment. Her hand quickly found your waist but any and all plans she had immediately fell out the window at the hesitancy and anxiety wafting off you and vibrating through the air. She could tell your shoulders were tensed, and you didn’t melt into her embrace the way you normally did, so she settled for a kiss on the cheek as per your usual greeting, following you into the kitchen as she passed off the bottle of wine.

“I’ve got a white open if you want to start with that?” You offered, tucking the bottle she’d brought into the fridge and she nodded.

“Yeah, that’s perfect.” She smiled softly at you, watching you pull down a glass to fill for her, adding in a couple of ice cubes just as she liked it.

“How’s the case?” You asked, picking up your own wine as you leant against the island across from her, “Tony mentioned it was still pretty dead ended, I was kinda surprised you had time to make it tonight.”

“It’s a case.” She shrugged, “there’s only so much we can do right now. Figured it was best to let everyone have the night off, come back clear headed tomorrow.”

As her eyes swept through the kitchen she felt her own anxiety beginning to settle into her bones, her heart still strumming faster than usual in her chest. You had made the plan to stay in for dinner, so she wasn’t confused over your very casual attire of pyjama shorts and a cardigan, but aside from the wine bottle, there was no sign of intending to host tonight.

“Bummer.” You let out a sigh as you took a sip of wine, catching the way Emily nearly jumped at the sound of your voice, her jaw tightening and you were quick to finish you sentence, “about the case! Not that you had time to come over. That’s good, I’m glad. I just uh..” you let out an awkward laugh she wasn’t used to hearing, “didn’t want to make it sound like I was happy there was some psycho killer still out there.”

It was Emily’s turn to chuckle, taking another large sip of her drink, “no, I get it, it’s a tricky line to walk…”

Her accidentally chosen words hung heavily in the air, weighing down on both of you as you let out a quiet hum, staring over her shoulder, your wine glass in front of your face. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest so heavily you were almost certain Emily could hear it or at least could see the way the pulse point in your neck was jumping. It was part of the reason you’d pulled away so quickly at the front door, you didn’t want her to be able to feel it, or your clammy hands, she didn’t need to know you were nervous.

“Hey…” you were almost certain your voice cracked, “I uh, wanted to talk to you about something.”

Her face shot up, trying to control the expression written across it when she finally caught your eye, “oh, yeah. Me too, but you first.”

You downed the rest of your wine, your glass likely hitting the island with a little too much velocity as the words tumbled out of your mouth before you could take a second thought. “I think we should end the arrangement.”

Emily felt her heart drop into her stomach, the butterflies that were once there crushed into a churning of bile as she swallowed. This certainly wasn’t what she had expected, she thought she’d read the situation right, followed Tony’s advice that was supposed to lead her in the right direction. Then she felt incredibly stupid, she read body language and people for a living when she’d known them for all of two seconds. Yet she’d spent incredibly intimate and personal hours with you and still didn’t manage to get the right vibe.

“Oh…I, okay.” She placed the half full glass of wine, her eyes not totally focused on anything before she scooped up her bag, “I’ll uh… get out of your hair then.”

You’d caught the way her face fell ever so briefly before she managed to mask it, your heart squeezing in your chest as you darted around the island, managing to catch her wrist in your hand.

“No! Emily, please, no.” You tugged her back to you and when she finally did focus on you there was an evident shimmer of tears threatening to spill into her eyes, “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.” You let out a shaky laugh, tripping over your words you were speaking so quickly, “well, I guess it is what I meant, but not how I meant it.”

“You… want to rewrite the contract?” She asked hesitantly and you felt the heat creeping up your cheeks.

“More like I was thinking about ripping up the contract…”

There was a moment of relief washing through Emily that you could feel sparking through your body as she let out a breath. Her gaze was still pouring into you and the entire room suddenly felt too hot, causing you to shove up the sleeves of your cardigan, making sure they were settled above your elbows before undoing a couple of buttons to give you a little cool room to breathe. Emily’s eyes darted over your body as her mind continued to race.

“Listen, I.. god…” you shook your head with a laugh. Despite reciting what you wanted to say for hours, you were still totally flustered when it came to saying it to her face. It didn’t help that you suddenly noticed the way her eyes were flitting between your arms and your thighs. “What?”

She looked up, a curious expression on her face, “no blood drawn?”

“Huh?” Your brow furrowed, head titling in the adorable way Emily loved when you were utterly confused. When she was done shooting you heart eyes she suddenly realized her mistake, her tongue swiping out the corner of her mouth as she began to stutter over her words.

“Uh, just… last time you went out of town you had blood drawn.” She shrugged, “I guess I thought it was some kind of travel, germaphobe, don’t want to pick up a flu or something…” She trailed off, kicking herself for letting it slip out in the first place. Her eyes darted down to your thighs again before flicking up to your collarbone, tracing the line up your neck.

Your face relaxed, lips curving up into a small smile when you caught on to what she was doing, and what she really meant. “No…” You shook your head softly, reaching out to squeeze at her hand, “no blood drawn.”

You felt your chest swell, and Emily wanted nothing more than to kiss you to high heaven in that moment, never wanting to drop your hand no matter what the cost. Instead of getting her chance you spoke again, which, honestly, was probably for the best.

“God…” you laughed again, running a hand through your hair, “I really don’t know how to do this, I’ve never done it before.”

“Wait, what?” Her head tilted, “I thought you like, made a side hustle out of sugar babying.”

“No!” You laughed, “Oh my god I’ve done it once and that was like twenty years ago. We had a very specific end date written into the contract and knew nothing was ever going to come of it aside from my tuition.”

“But you’re so knowledgeable about the subject.” She pointed out, thinking back to how confidently you’d flown through the first few months of your relationship, how you always seemed to be a step or two ahead of her when it came to navigating your way through it.

“I’ve done my research?” You shrugged, “seen a lot of examples with Heather. Hell, with a good chunk of other politicians. Listen,” you squeezed at her hand again, pulling the focus back to the topic at hand, “I don’t know how to navigate it like this.” You gestured between the two of you, “I’m not good at it, I guess it’s another reason I’ve stayed so committed to the job… being committed to a person just kind of scares me. I’ve never felt safe enough to open up the way I needed to, never been relaxed around another person to just… let them into my life so comfortably. I don’t know why things happened so differently with you, so incredibly easily and I think that kinda freaks me out too, but I think that fear is more than worth it if it gives me the chance to be with you…really be with you. Because that’s all I really want.”

When she looked up from your joined hands Emily could hear her heart hammering between her ears, the butterflies from her stomach slowly creeping into her chest. You were fully opening yourself up to her, no matter how much it scared you and behind the hesitancy in your eyes she could see something else pouring out, something that she’d been seeing for weeks but was never ballsy enough to say something about.

“I’m hearing everything your saying and believe me I want to respond and I will, but can I do something first?” She asked.

“Uh… yeah, sure.” Your brow furrowed for a second, thinking that she had to take a call, that over your racing heartbeat you hadn’t been able to hear her phone vibrate.

Instead you were letting out a little squeak in surprise when Emily stepped toward you, her hands gently cupping your face as she brought her lips to yours. Your arms easily wound around her shoulders, pulling her body directly into yours so you could absolutely melt against her. You were instantly lost into the kiss, feeling like everything inside of you was exploding in the best way possible. Somehow the thundering in Emily’s chest was calming down as her lips moved against yours with ease, as if that was exactly where they were meant to be. The sweet smell of your shampoo invaded her nose, you invaded every single one of her senses and there was absolutely nothing else that she could ever possibly want.

Her tongue traced the seam of your lips and you easily parted them, wanting nothing more than to be able to fully taste her. Your had crept up the back of her neck, fingers gently toying with the roots of her hair, your thumb stroking at her skin. Her tongue explored your mouth, rolling against your own and she couldn’t help but let out a small groan into the kiss. When your fingers ever so slightly tugged on her hair she retaliated by nipping at your lower lip while her own curved up into a grin. A small laugh broke free from your mouth, neither of you pulling away as you relaxed deeper into each other, giggles and smiles prevalent through a series of smaller kisses until you couldn’t stop them.

Emily’s forehead rested against your own as she stole one more kiss, her hand cupping your chin, thumb tracing your lower lip and you couldn’t help but press a tender kiss to it.

“I know it can be scary…” she started, “it scares me too and honestly I’m not sure if I’m particularly great at it either. I’ve been trying to untangle my thoughts and emotions for weeks, maybe even longer and it’s been driving me insane. All that I really know is that I love spending time with you, I’m happier when you’re around, you make me laugh, you encourage me to be my best, I even sleep better with you next to me and I want so much more of all of that in my life. So…maybe we can figure it out together?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, a bright smile on your cheeks and a sparkle in your eye that absolutely made her weak in the knees, “I’d really like that.”

With another adorable giggle you surged closer to her, kissing her again, your hands tugging at the fabric of her shirt, pulling her impossibly close. You couldn’t get enough of each other and it made Emily laugh again between the kisses.

“Jeeze,” she shook her head, “I can’t believe DiNozzo was right.”

“DiNozzo?” You murmured; head full of butterflies as you stole another kiss. Though once his name was on your lips you were crashed back down to earth and you leant your torso away from her, “were you talking to Tony about our love life?!”

“Uh, maybe?” She winced, her cheeks tinging as she laughed, “I mean, it turned out he did give some pretty good advice.”

“Oh god.” You hung your head, “I am never going to hear the end of this.”

“At least it was worth it?” She suggested and you smiled across at her, pressing your lips to hers.

“It definitely was.”

Her hand caressed your cheek again as she leant in to kiss you, unable to help herself at this point and you weren’t about to deny her. Right as your lips met you jumped at the sound of the doorbell.

“You expecting someone?” She asked, her arm almost tightening around your waist as you laughed, swatting at her arm.

“It’s dinner.” You grabbed your wallet from the island, “did you really think I was going to cook after such a long day?”

Emily shook her head at the look in your eyes as you disappeared around the corner. Choosing to take the time you were dealing with the driver to collect your wine glasses from the island, refilling both before selecting cutlery and setting things up on the coffee table.

“Hope you’re okay with Indian,” you started, setting the bag down on the table as you tucked a leg under yourself on the couch, “I had a craving.”

“Cuisine doesn’t matter as long as I’m sharing it with you.” She replied and you felt your heart thud in your chest, your body melting at the look in her eyes as she gazed over at you.

“You fucking sap.” You teased, choosing to distract her from the misting of happy tears in your eyes by jumping into her lap, your lips meeting hers for another kiss.

Emily’s hands ghosted up your sides as yours settled on her face, thumbs stroking at her cheeks while your tongue explored her mouth. You let out a happy sigh into the kiss that she eagerly swallowed down, her entire being relaxing at the way you were melting into the embrace.

“What?” She asked softly, a smile on her face as she nudged your nose with hers.

“Nothing.” You shook your head, unable to control your own bright smile.

“Oh c’mon.” She prodded at your sides, earning a squeal from you, “don’t pull that crap anymore.”

You laughed, gazing down at her as your thumbs continued to soothe across her cheeks, “I just guess I’ve spent so long avoiding it and being scared that I never realized it could be this easy to fall in love...”

“You’re in love with me?” If it had been even a day earlier the question would have been filled with worry, but right now Emily asked it with a tease in her voice, because she already knew the answer. You didn’t need to say it, she could feel it, the warmth flowing through the room, wrapping itself around the two of you as you perched in her lap. She wasn’t scared to hear anything you had to say and she knew she felt the same way.

“Yeah…yeah I am.”

“Good.” Her hand gently wrapped around the back of your neck, pulling you to her for another kiss, this one deeper and a little longer than the last. One that you could feel her emotion in, joy dancing deep through your veins as your heart began to strum in time with hers, “because I’ve been in love with you for weeks. I never thought we could end up like this when we started… but here we are.”

“Mmm.” You left a kiss on the tip of her nose, “and I wouldn’t have it any either way.”

_____________________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @hopedoesntknow @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx cx @momily @nilaues @borinxnovakxprentiss @soverign @v3nusxsky @mccdreamys-writes @l4yne @obsessedwjill @asolitaryrose3 @lisqueen @mrs-prentiss @whitewinewithice @d33pd3sire-blog @daffodil-heart @maximoffcarter @i-lovefandom @chimnlex @moonlightjxuregui @chestnutninny @gamma-rae-bursts @just-moondust @idkifimasub @gaydragonwitch @dowsedwithbleach @divergentalwaysandforever-blog @m1lfsh4ke

[toaster-fire-art]

putting together and cleaning up some things ♡ 

mini ramble/vent/what have you below cut

I got completely and utterly distracted with life and having no motivation to post anyhing despite drawing everyday, as it goes :3

Hope you all are well, I have been focusing a lot on my stories and drawing a lot of my characters, and even though I've posted them a few times I always feel weirdly guilty about posting that since it's not really what I have an audience for, but I'm still going to because it's what I want to do and care for. I don't plan on making a seperate blog or anything since I like this blog as my little dumping site looool.

I haven't been working on a lot of fan content, but that's mostly because I just got burnt out and will still return to all my WIPS and projects I intended to do and then kinda fell off the face of the earth with so sorry.

I'm a busy guy stressed about credentials and life but it's all good, I've had this sitting in my drafts for like 2 months, stay tuned for me digging my head out of the mud :)

[izzabela]

Hello🍷, I have an idea for a writing, of a Bi-han x reader; where the reader is about 10-15 years older than Bi-han but does not stop, because the reader looks extremely young, even more than Bi-han,

(I really think Bi-han is about 28-30 years old but that's in your hands 🙏🏻😶‍🌫️🍷)

LN

Eternal Beauty - Bi Han x GN!older!reader (headcanons)

in which Bi Han is pining after an older partner

a/n: milf, gilf, dilfs, WHATEVER, bi han DTF. older reader with a little twist, btw

ship[s]: bi han x older!GN!reader

warnings(s): canon story deviation

- You are half Edinian, half human, but Bi Han didn't need to know that for his breath to be caught in his throat at your ethereal beauty

- Bi Han knows you're older than him, hell he lowkey loves it, which makes his pining after you even more adorable

- Your Edinian's mother's genes allowed you to gracefully age. Your skin remained taut, but your humanity showed through the smiling lines around your mouth, and the wrinkles that were by your eyes

- It added to your charm, made you look even more beautiful than the other people that wanted to be by the Grandmaster's side

- He definitely got shit for it, being so obviously in love. Even though he would yell at whoever was poking fun at him (usually either Tomas or Sektor), he would never deny his love for you

- When speaking to you, Bi Han's rough voice was paired with tender words and kind gestures. After a good round of sparring, he'd praise you and make sure you were given enough to eat.

- He'd even make sure your patrols would not last into the night, Bi Han spoiling you by making sure you got ample sleep

- Bi Han would also walk beside you, not in front as he did with others. Just as he respected those with power, he respected his elders

- It shocked you, considering the trauma you had heard from his brothers, but when you brought it up to him, he gave you a simple answer

- "It is respect. What happened back then does not change my beliefs."

- Speaking of his beliefs, I genuinely believe he would do things the most traditionally when it comes to dating and marriage

- He and his brothers may fight in regards to ethnic customs, but they can both agree on how to treat the person they pursue

- Bi Han would plan all of the dates (during the rare days off you had). He wouldn't "try", just do, and he'd do so with impeccable detail. He had once sent you a letter to your room (his room was only a couple doors away), with a detailed itinerary

- in the list: five-thirty, casual, village restaurant, be pretty (he can be so cute sometimes)

- Bi Han would never fail to gift you a bouquet of flowers- cheap or not. However, as Grandmaster, he has power over funds as well

- Bi Han once gifted you a bouquet of an assortment of spring flowers from a florist in Fengjian after another test

- Another time, he sent initiates out to the cave of an Arctikan dragon to pick the rare flowers that grew there

- the flowers were a beautiful blue hue, and the frost breath the dragon breathed gave it an semi-immortal frost. So, although it will die, it will not die easily

- When you asked Bi Han about the significance of the flowers, his words melted your heart more

- "Like my love, it won't die as quickly as my physical form. My heart will transcend everything- all for you"

=====================

i love Bi Han

anyways another super easy finish. be prepared though, i've got more fics on the way!

stay tuned, and i'll see yall in the next fic!

[xoxoamyas]

party of our own

rating : suggestive themes towards the end [ 16+ ], fluff leaning, petnames used on reader [ toots and sweetcheeks ], jealous schlatt

jschlatt x gn!reader

☆ in which you're at a party with schlatt and things don't go as planned. at least you get a kiss out of it? <3

note : i don't usually write for schlatt, so i hope that you enjoy !

request [ ☆ ]

masterlist [ ☆ ]

[ Prompts : 53. a breathy demand: “kiss me” - and what the other person does to respond + 62. sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss ]

⋆˙⟡

Parties weren't usually your forte.

Schlatt had been invited to one, getting a plus one in the process, and ultimately, you ended up tagging along. You weren't sure how the party would go, considering you didn't usually bother with them.

As you mostly stuck to Schlatt's side, you were fairly quiet compared to the music that blasted through speakers. Grown adults acting like teenagers as some either danced along, shouted drunkenly over the music, or nursed their -likely alcoholic- drinks. Or all three at once.

You were starting to get antsy from where you stood besides Schlatt, who had been talking to one of his friends. You hadn't paid much mind, focusing mostly on trying to tune out the stimulating music so effectively, your entire surroundings. That was done mostly by either looking around the area nonstop or at Schlatt like you're in a daze of awe.

He hadn't dressed up too nice, just in a casual outfit. But his hair was put up into that one bun that would usually make your heart skip a beat. Suddenly, you’re ready to be done with everything happening around you. You moved one of your hands, your finger looping around one of the belt loops to Schlatt’s jeans with a slight tug. A silent notion to get his attention and essentially say that you’re getting fairly bored and ready to go home, or at least leave the place.

Schlatt simply tries to wave the motion off, having moved one of his arms to wrap around you and rest a hand on the small of your back. It was clear he hadn’t gotten your message, but at least he gave you some form of physical attention.

It takes a while before you do anything else, having just leaned against his side a bit for support until the guy he's conversing with finally walks away. You hadn't been listening to whatever he said his excuse was, so you paid the guy no mind.

“What's wrong, toots?” Schlatt suddenly asks, voice low in your ear as he had leaned over just slightly to whisper to you. It made some shivers run down your spine, but you played it off by moving to hold your arms as you leaned against him.

“I'm ready to go, baby.” You spoke in a tone equal to his, as you moved your head to look at him more properly.

“If you want to head out, then go. I've got some other friends I need to catch up with.” He slightly grunted moving to remove himself from you so that you could easily move. The action only served to make you frown as you moved to hold onto his shirt with one of your hands.

“I thought we were going to hang out tonight, though.” You tilted your head just slightly, watching as Schlatt sighed and nodded. He glanced around for a moment before placing his hands along your waist.

“And we can still hang out, just later at home, m'kay sweetcheeks?” He raised a brow in question, though it was obvious it wasn't fully up to debate. You knew you had a choice to stay or wait for later, though. It just went unsaid.

“I can wait for you to be done.” You ultimately decide, which makes Schlatt frown for a moment but ultimately nods and agrees.

In an instant, you have to bite your tongue to hold back verbal disagreement as his hands are removed from your body. You just let him, mostly continuing to stick to his side as he moves on to talk with another friend.

Of course, you don't stay by his side for much longer. Straying off a bit to see if they had any water or soda that wasn't doused with alcohol in it. The kitchen has an island counter with a couple shamelessly making out on it, making your face twist up in discomfort.

Your look for soda proved successful, grabbing a solo cup that had been left untouched and poured yourself some soda from the bottle. Ignoring the sounds from the couple, you just move on with yourself, solo cup of soda in hand as you found a place to sit in that had been relatively clean. Which just happened to be a vacant loveseat that was actually more comfortable than it looked.

You sat there for the better half of an hour, slowly sipping your soda and letting time pass. Someone had joined you at some point on the loveseat, some girl who was definitely under the influence of something with how comfortable she was just talking and leaning against you.

At some point, Schlatt had finished talking with some of the guys at the party. He'd set out on a search for you, only to eventually find some girl practically trying to size you up. Of course, you were oblivious as ever to her futile attempts whatsoever.

“Hey, who's your new friend?” He asks as he steps along your side of the loveseat, his hand resting along the back of it in a near tense manner. He loves the way you look at him when you tilt your head back to see his own face properly.

The girl doesn't seem put off by his words or tone of voice, simply smiling in a doped out manner. She simply squeezed your arm with a wink before getting up and walking off to find somebody else to bug.

Seeing the action alone made something in Schlatt short circuit. Momentarily, he considers going after the girl before realizing how it would look if he tried to argue or fight with her. Instead, he just huffs air through his nose and proceeds to yank you up from the loveseat, uncaring of the small sound of surprise that came from you. He hadn't been listening to what you said, anyway.

“Kiss me,” He demanded in a low tone, suddenly uncaring of just how public they were. Schlatt needed the reassurance that something like that hadn't torn your feelings from him, even if it was a minor thing.

“Right now?” You ask in a surprised tone, completely caught off guard by the sudden switch he had. It was almost hard to understand, not initially realizing where this newfound disquiet mixed with agitation came from.

“Right now.” Schlatt slightly grumbled out, one of his hands moving to wrap around your waist in order to pull you closer. You don't let him kiss you, placing your hand over his mouth and effectively separating where your lips would have connected.

Your nerves crawled over you, making you glance around at the other party people. You knew your relationship wasn't a secret, but it wasn't entirely public, either, considering Schlatt liked to keep the relationship to one another.

Anybody could recognize him in some way.

You grasp one of his hands into yours and move to walk, guiding him away from the practical centre of the party. Finding a way to a staircase that led up, taking the flight with him easily following behind you. It was easy to tell the bedrooms of the house were off limits, or just in use, so you took a moment to spot the bathroom.

You hardly have enough time to get a word out when the door clicked shut, suddenly having been pinned. Schlatt’s arms were on either side of your body, effectively keeping you in place. You hadn't even heard the click of the lock as your eyes remained on his.

“Don’t make me say it again.” Schlatt had a slight grumble to his tone, clearly wanting that kiss without too much work from his end. He just wanted this for reaffirmation that you were still his.

Your hands found their ways to his face, cupping his cheeks, and you leaned in and pressed your lips against his. Practically holding your breath as you felt the hairs of his moustache against your own upper lip a fair amount. Your hands going over the mutton chops he had, having refused to get rid of them on multiple occasions, as you held more of his jaw than anything else for now.

The moment of what seemed to be intimacy remained, though Schlatt was quick to take charge without hesitation. He had moved you with ease, making it so you sat atop the sink counter as he kissed you without hesitation. He ends up catching you off guard with a pinch to your side, making you let out a slight sound of protest to which he uses as an entry way for his tongue into your mouth.

You two essentially stayed there and made-out, both now near uncaring of the party and the music downstairs. It was nice, you had to admit, the way he kissed you almost feverishly. It wasn't often that it happened, but when it did, it always made those butterflies soar high in your chest.

When the kiss finally seems like it's done, you're both catching your breaths, Schlatt’s forehead pressed against your own. Before you could wiggle out of his grasp to get down, he clicks his tongue with a tisk. The sound made you automatically pause yourself as you looked at him attentively.

“Did I say we were done, toots?” He uses a low tone that sends shivers down your spine. You slowly shake your head no, feeling yourself freeze when one of his hands finds it spot along your neck.

“Everybody at the party's gonna know who you belong to.”

[oweninadaydream]

𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 || 𝐂𝐇.𝟏

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : Hangman is the certified ladies' man and everyone thinks they can read him like a book, but what neither the Dagger Squad nor anyone else can even begin to imagine is where the hell Jake has been going every Saturday night for the last few months…

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x male!character

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 : mentions of alcohol, some making out but nothing too smutty, emotional distress lmao, age gap relationship (27-35), some religious trauma, self-deprecating thoughts, post Top Gun : Maverick, the Dagger squad is stationed together.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 2k

𝐚/𝐧 : Gif by @tay-swifts , M/N (Male Name). Hello beautiful people!!! I'm so exited about posting this project I've been working on for a while. I just wanted to say that since it's my first time writing for Jake this might be a bit OC Jake but I do hope I got it right hehe. Enjoy the fic and stay tuned for the next parts!!!

It was well after midnight when Jake arrived at the club’s entrance. The throbbing bass emanating from inside made the whole building shake, making his mind wonder what it would be like to live on top of such an obnoxiously loud place, contrasting with the quietness of the accommodations the Navy offered. The reflection of the neon sign reading  “Mon Ange” turned his natural olive-toned skin into a vivid dark azure that matched perfectly with the baby blue in his eyes. The smokers (all with stamps on their hands) were all gathered some feet away from the door to get back in after dragging a final puff from their cigarettes. The queue was not very long, mainly because everyone who was meant to be there had arrived way earlier than him. He reprimanded himself for getting there so late ; in less than two hours the nightclub would shut its doors and Jake would feel like he wasted four hours of his life for nothing. Well, his journey would not be in vain if he caught a glimpse of- 

“Jake”

This was L.A, a city 118 miles away from the Marine Corps Air Station located in Miramar, which is a two-hour long drive away from everything he knows. He had to remind himself of those facts to avoid spiraling  at the sound of his name in such a place; he hated how his body kept reacting to these kinds of situations, but not even a skilled lieutenant like himself could take the reins of these unnamed emotions that coursed through his entire being.

"What are you doing here by the door? I was worrying about you not showing up today, I was just about to send a search party. C'mon , let's grab a drink. Perhaps I can even convince you to dance this time" A wide playful smirk accompanied the flirty comment exquisitely and, even though Jake was more than used to these antics, his heart skipped a beat. Trying to compose himself, he answered while staring at the concrete floor. 

"I don't belong on that dance floor and y'know it, darlin' "

“Oh don’t say that, the 30s are the new 20s! … Even if you’re not planning to dance, you must’ve driven all the way over here for something, right?”

The damn question hit him like a truck. He could try to think of the right answer, but putting something into words made it terrifyingly real, and that was exactly what he'd been avoiding for months. The breeze made them both shiver, as the party outfits didn’t properly protect them from the chilly weather. 

“You're right” he muttered “Okay, lead the way. Make it worth the while, mh?" he teasingly replied. Even if what he was doing was definitely outside of his comfort zone, something about the constant banter between them calmed him.

"Don't you always have an amazing time with me? I thought that was why you only talk to me" a fake pout appeared on the face which Seresin couldn't help but to stare intensely in awe. Their hands intertwined and the pilot quickly melted into that comforting touch. His companion briefly exchanged some words with the bouncer and the doors opened for them. 

"Thankfully it was Joseph working tonight, I don't think Marcus would have let you in for free just like that" “I’m sure you would've charmed him into doing whatever you wanted anyway”

The thick air of the room embraced him as soon as the doors closed and the familiar feeling appeared in the pit of his stomach almost instantly; it seems like it was yesterday when he first stepped into the nightclub he now knows like the back of his hand, but in reality, that day was what it feels like ages ago. Still, the contradictions that manifested within him every time he returned persisted and only grew each day.

“I’ll go to the bar while you stay here and look pretty, okay? Same drink as always?”

It was because of moments like these that Hangman felt comfortable enough to let his guard down and be his usual extroverted self. Grabbing his wrist to stop him from going any further, he raised his voice so his words could be heard even though the music was top volume. “ Don’t you even dare to try to pay for those drinks, they’re on me.”

“Here it is, the Texan charm of Jake Seresin. I didn’t know you could apply those rules to this situation. Are you trying to imply I’m the girl in this whole affair? Shouldn't we at least draw lots for it?”

"Very funny, M/N'' the hostility that emanated from his rolling eyes made the other man realize his comment had affected Jake on a deeper level than intended. “Hey I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t hav- I know it’s  a touchy subject and I’m extremely sorry, please forgive me” the regret was visible in his expression and it also could be detected in the stuttering caused by the words rushing their way out of his mouth trying to obtain his forgiveness as fast as possible. Jake took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second. 

Hangman was no saint, he didn’t go to church every Sunday or tried to look for a good christian wife to have kids with like his father did in his day. He knew God was not exactly pleased with the way he was running his life but he used to think that when the time came, He would welcome him with open arms (after having apologized profusely, that is). But now that he had fallen for the most vile trick in the book, he couldn't trust that previous statement anymore. Lust was a capital sin, pretty serious if you asked any priest from the church the Seresin family attended back in Texas, but sodomy? Say goodbye to eternal salvation, son. If Jake was being honest, the promise of heaven or the threat of hell didn't scare him. It was the destruction of all the life lessons that made him act the way he acted,  of his purpose as a son, as a man. The thing that truly haunted him at night  was the thought of a deity (and his father)  designing him to be this flawless individual with a very clear life path , only to end up as a filthy, disgusting f-

“Hey, are you okay? Would you like me to leave you alone for a bit?”

The thought of M/N walking away while he sank deeper and deeper in the sea of guilt and fury frightened him. “Please don’t” he begged “everything’s fine, I promise. Let’s down a couple shots and , who knows, maybe I’ll be in the mood to dance for a bit” the last comment was a futile attempt to hide the everlasting agony that clouded his mind. M/N moved so they were a few inches away and raised his hand to caress his cheek. His next step consisted in resting his arms around his shoulders and starting kissing him delicately in the neck and in the whole face in general, in hopes to kiss the discomfort away. 

How could something so delicate and sweet be so dirty? Was it even dirty to begin with? What about the women he had dated? He was attracted to them but now he- Too many questions Jake was not willing to answer that night. He only wanted one thing, and he was about to claim it. 

After regaining control of himself, Jake put his right hand on the younger male’s back to guide him to the counter where people were piling up fighting to get the barman’s attention. Being as attractive and well-built as he was, he obtained the alcoholic beverages rather quickly. After the last drop of tequila had made its way down their throats, Hangman took control and led him onto the dance floor. His mind was only filled of the smell of M/N’s cologne mixed with his natural scent enhanced by their bodies crashing against each other while swaying to the 2000s pop remixes, his eyes fixed on his partner’s hypnotizing movements and his hands focused on feeling what they can reach, testing if they can go further in their journey through M/N’s body. Jake was simply standing close and moving according to the song's beat but in a subtle way, just like he would do at the locals he frequented with his coworkers ; manly enough to keep his dignity intact but provocative enough to awake that lustful hunger in the other person’s soul.

‘Mon Ange’ had finally closed down and the two men were still all over each other on the angelino streets. The tingle settling in his chest could only be compared with the adrenaline rush he had previously experienced on those wild nights spent in college, the farewell by the porch of the first girl he had taken on a date or the night out after his first deployment; if he closed his eyes he could swear he was 20 again, but reality made sure to remind him of those fifteen more years that had passed. 

M/N had this juvenile thing about him, Jake couldn’t guess confidently his age from afar and his curiosity was finally satiated after befriending him and asking him about it directly ; he was 27, even though he looked some years younger. His bold character combined with his kindness and humor made M/N resemble a butterfly flying around collecting the pollen from every flower in the garden and making it seem effortless. That was one of the many things that hooked Jake on him as if he were the most addicting drug out there, making him throw away his plan of not getting attached and limiting this experience with sporadic hookups that would end then and there, never with the same person twice. That was the problem, he appeared and started moving his hips to some song, making the whole room turn around him and ever since then (even if Jake was still in denial), he was a goner.

The next thing he knew, he was laying down on M/N’s bed, a king size mattress close to a very big window that allowed him to take in the beautiful sight of the sleeping city. He had only been to the apartment twice, but he had always  left before the sun had made its appearance in the sky, moved by remorse and skepticism. This time though, he had stayed the whole night that was filled with passionate sex and heart to heart conversations and finally some cuddling that lured him to rest for a while. Now he was wide awake, sitting against the headboard, resting his eyes on the sunrise and on the slumbering figure facing him. He looked so calm, so peaceful. In that moment, turning his gaze away, he tried to repress a sob that came with a single tear falling through his left cheek. 

M/N had always known he was queer, embracing his bisexuality in childhood. Jake had never had any problems with people who were not straight, even if the people around him growing up did, but everything was different when it came to himself. For fuck’s sake, he was closer to being 40 than from his teenage years, what was he doing? He could only paralyze at the idea of anyone seeing what he was doing. It was definitely too late for him. Risking his life everyday up in the sky felt like a minor burden compared to the endurance of the dilemmas he carried with him everywhere, just like Christ had carried the cross all the way to Calvary.

He could feel himself falling for the person right next to him, and that was the worst thing that had ever happened to Lieutenant Jacob Seresin. His calloused hand cupped M/N’s soft face, making the other man lean in closer in search of that delightful warmth. Jake’s lips burned in desperate need to say something out loud. His heart started palpitating at a dangerous speed, as he knew the thing trying to escape from his mind was a cruel thing to say and that he was a horrible being just by thinking that. It was no one’s fault and it had no solution, yet the idea popped up in his mind like an unwanted ad appearing on your phone. His chest ached at the possibility of M/N hearing the words, so he tried to whisper as quietly as it was humanly possible. 

“I wish you were a girl”

[abiiors]

Veee could you write something with matty where reader is also an artist (a way less known one) and its just pure fluff with both of them being inspired by one another?

Feel free to ignore ofc!!🫶🫶🫶

muse - matty x reader

a/n: this took a very different direction than originally planned and got slightly existential sorry about that 💀💀 but i hope you like it regardless <33

divider by @/cafekitsune

cw: mentions of smut, talks of death, general fluff and sappiness.

the artist flicks through the feature.

her name is printed in big letters on the cover of the monthly issue, her face--smiling and excited--next to the centrepiece of her latest art collection: cupid and psyche. the painting is stunning, a riot of bold colours and patterns but the at the centre is a man, his face hidden, his jet black curls tousled. his body is relaxed, she thinks there's an air of carefreeness about him.

and she'd know that for sure, after all that day is etched into her memory.

when she feels a familiar pair of arms wrap around her, she smiles.

"you're rather proud of the feature, aren't you?" matty's voice holds a little teasing note. she's stared at the feature for close to thirty minutes now, discreetly pinching herself in the same spot on her arm. (it sports a tiny, barely-there bruise now)

"good," matty nuzzles his face into her neck, softly kissing the skin, "you should be. the exhibit was fucking gorgeous."

"mmm, because you were the centrepiece?" fondly, she teases back, but the memory flashes in front of her eyes--the bustling art gallery, matty in a corner, wearing a plain hoodie and jeans and a cap hiding half of his face, absolutely brimming with pride.

she remembers the journalists asking about the man in all the paintings, the one whose face no one can see. "he's my muse," she says every time, "this collection is dedicated to him."

"someone's going to connect the dots," matty walks around her, settling himself next to her on the sofa. instantly, they rearrange themselves into a tangle--her legs on his lap, his arm around her, her head on his shoulders, his head on hers. "if they looked carefully, they'll make the connection."

"matty, we have been each other's muse for years and no one's found out. i don't think they're going to start now. besides," she snorts, "i think the art world thinks i've made you up in my mind. won't be the first time an artist's gone insane."

matty laughs. "maybe you have. you always say i'm too good to be true."

when she can't think of a retort, she sticks her tongue out, shrieking away when he smothers her in kisses.

"seriously though, it's fun writing about you. singing about you. and i love seeing myself through your eyes." suddenly matty sounds all sober and serious. she thinks his voice even wavers slightly at the end. he blinks quickly though, and just like that the brightness in his eyes is gone.

"love it when you write about me too," she teases, "love being called a gemini and a sexy girl, such poetry."

"oi! i put my heart into that! it's a precious memory for me."

"the memory of us fucking in the new bath for the first time?"

matty giggles like a teenager, hiding his face in her hair. it's fun to rile him up like this, so she continues, poking him in the ribs. "or waking up the next day with a head cold because we stayed in the cold water for so long hmm?"

"you took care of me though, and so i think you deserve to have a song written about you. or a whole album works too i think." then matty tuts. "actually, no. don't wanna tell anyone it's about you, that'll ruin the magic."

"ruin the magic?"

"of being your muse and having you as mine. i think a hundred years from now, when people would see your art as the artwork of this generation, and my music as the tune of our times--"

"tune of our times..."

"yeah, quit laughing at me!" matty flicks her nose, quickly kissing it after. "so when my music becomes the tune of our times, i think people will see it then. they will make the connections."

secretly, she loves the idea--that their love might transcend time and space through their art. that decades from now their names might be whispered together, even though they aren't just yet.

"of course, we'll be buried together by then. same grave by the way, very romeo and juliet of us."

"that's morbid!" she laughs sharply, "what will the epitaph say?"

matty hums for a bit, thinking, his eyes flutter shut for a second or two almost like he needs to focus on the half formed thought until it's a complete sentence. then he excitedly clears his throat and gently holds her face between his hands.

"here lie the artist and the muse; inspiring each other in death as they did in life."

[chasedbyatlantic]

when you wash your hair, joel miller

summary: IN WHICH — you decide to surprise a sleeping joel after you've been working all day outside of jackson's walls, but it doesn't go as you plan.

warnings: gender neutral x joel miller, post outbreak!joel, jackson!joel, mentions of you and joel in a relationship, sub!joel, joel has ptsd, joel almost hurts reader (doesn't tho so dw!), lots of fluff at the end, cute ending, lots of swearing, ellie being annoying as per usual LOL. lmk if there’s anything i missed <3

wordcount: 2.6k

a/n: hiiii this is my very first fic on tumblr! i have been obsessed w/ tlou for the LONGEST time now so why not start writing for my fav fictional mass murderer? anyway- hope u guys enjoy! i plan to post a ton more so stay tuned xoxo

—

You had just finished an ungodly long shift along the outskirts of Jackson, keeping everyone inside safe from- well, whatever lay outside (scary squirrels, mostly). It had been so different since you arrived, with Joel and Ellie. For starters, you weren't kept on edge every single second of every single day - Joel was, which you always got pissed at him for, since you two were more than safe inside these walls. There was also the fact that life had sort of just- resumed, after twenty years of fighting for your life. It was alright, though, a sense of normalcy was nice, even if it were to only last for a little while (you were hoping it lasted forever).

As soon as you were inside the gates of Jackson, you rode over to the stables in which your horse, Leo, was housed at. The big wooden doors were opened by a stable hand that looked no older than Ellie, maybe she knew who this was, you thought to yourself.

You had slid the kid a small "thank you." as they closed the door behind you, and you hopped off Leo. You reached in your bag and scrounged for a second, before pulling out an apple core, the remains of the apple you had eaten earlier. "Here boy," your hand raised towards the horse's snout with the leftovers in-palm, and he took it as if it were the best thing in the world.

Leo munched away while you swapped his bridle for a halter and lead, tugging him to his freshly-mucked stall. He had walked over to his water bucket and you moved with him, undoing his girth and removing his saddle. It was hoisted over your arm as you moved out and locked his stall. "Excuse me," You called over to the stable hand that had let you in as you put all of his tack on the stand in front, "Do you mind brushing him down for me? I've had a long day and gotta get home quick."

The kid nodded their head eagerly, which had earned a smile from you. You weren't lying about having a long day or needing to get home quick - besides, you had always stayed after your shifts, right now you were just craving to see your favourite person (and a warm bath too, you had guessed).

You had removed your gloves as you took one last glimpse at your boy before you left him to be taken care of by the stable hand. As you walked out of the stable, you were greeted with a nice breeze. It wasn't exactly winter yet, but it sure as hell wasn't summer. Autumn was close on finishing, which only meant the days were getting longer.

It took you a mere twenty five minutes to walk back to the Miller residence. If you had a little pep in your step, it would've taken no longer than fifteen. But, being up since before sunrise has its cons. Anyway, it isn't your fault that Tommy and Maria (Joel's brother and new sister-in-law) placed you guys in the farthest house literally ever.

As you approached closer to the home, you could see the familiar little (she would kill you if she heard you describe her as little) girl. The girl took notice of you too, "Fucking finally!" Ellie had kicked up her skateboard, grabbing the tip of it, and came running over. "Jesus Christ, I thought you had got eaten by like- fucking bigfoot out there!", She seemed to be only half-joking.

"I was not eaten out there, Ellie." You sigh as you messed her hair up slightly with your hand, "Is Joel still out on patrol?" You had asked the girl. Her face dropped, earning an "ugh!" from her. "You two love birds are gross. You should care more about me than him! He's a frail, broken, old man while I'm a super cool, and totally awesome young person." You rolled your eyes, an automatic laugh escaping your lips. "Another half an hour out here, Elle. It's almost sundown- and please be careful, for fuck sakes. I don't want to be popping your kneecap back in place because of a fall off that- board."

You weren't Ellie's mom, and you didn't mean to take any place of a motherly figure in her life - it just, sort of happened. After what had happened in Salt Lake City a year ago, and you had fought for Ellie back alongside Joel, you couldn't help but grow so much more attached to her- you and Joel both. This is when your motherly instincts (you were never a mother, not before or during this apocalyptic world) kicked in. You both shared a special bond, one that would never be broken, despite the cruel world you both live in.

A small grunt and a "fine" escaped the girl's lips as she flips her board down and kicks off down the street. You shake your head with an almost disapproving look and walk down the rest of the block to your home. A small smile plays upon your lips as you approach the house with a mailbox at the bottom of the driveway that reads "MILLER". Your last name was not Miller, but you were in a relationship with a Miller, so that could maybe, in the slightest, count as your name too.

Your hand brushed past the rusted metal box as you walk up the paved drive way, you're excited to see Joel. Hell, it feels like it's been an eternity since you've seen that man - when in reality, it's only been since this morning. You climb up the wooden stairs at the front of your porch and remove your boots before entering the house - this saved horrid amounts of mud that would scatter in the small foyer of your home. Once your feet are out of your dirty boots, you silently enter the home.

The door was never locked, not when Joel knew you or Ellie weren't home. You didn't know why he kept it unlocked- maybe in case something had happened and you needed to get home fast, or in case you would lose your keys while out and about. It wasn't that big of a deal, though; nobody else lived in this part of the town (besides Tommy and Maria, who were distant neighbours).

It was dead silent when you entered, too eery for your liking. "Joel?" You called out as you shrugged off your autumn layers. No response. "Joel?" You call out once again, moving to where you had seen the light. You approached tip-toeing, starting to get a bit on edge. Joel was always there to greet you when you got home, unless he had patrol duty himself. As soon as you step foot in your living room, all of the previous worries you had melted away as you saw your favourite person curled up on the arm chair, sitting back and mouth open slightly. You wish you had a camera, god a polaroid of this would be amazing.

You approached him, quiet as ever, sliding the sleeves of your soft-knit sweater over ninety percent of your hands. You had brought your face closer to Joel's once you were close enough. The smell of his vanilla and rose scented shampoo had engulfed you. Joel said he hated it (in reality, he definitely did not), but if it made you love him a little more, he would wash his hair with it.

"You're perfect, you know that." You whisper to him, even though he was sound asleep. From the faded freckles over the bridge of his nose from being out in the sun too much this summer, to the small scars that littered his forehead from years of just surviving, he was perfect.

You breathed hushly as you moved your hands up to his face, to cup his cheeks. You thought it was perfect, for him to wake up to you (as if he didn't every morning) at this moment. You knew he missed you when he wasn't with you, he told you multiple times. This would be a nice thing to make his day slightly better, you had thought. Your fingers made soft contact with the flesh on his face - but, this is where it all went wrong.

Joel had shot up from the deep (well, you thought deep) sleep he was in and grabbed the hands that were touching his face. It hadn't registered to him that it was actually you who was touching his face, and not a clicker, or a raider, or anything else. Rage and a sense of fear filled his eyes as they shot opened, eyebrows furrowed as they looked around frantically - he was ready to fight.

A loud grunt and an "ow." escaped your lips once your hands were grabbed and yanked. It had happened within a blink of an eye. You weren't exactly in the mood for getting manhandled in this current moment, but here you were. "Joel- hey, hey, it's just me. You're okay." You spoke quick, trying to pry him off your hand.

It was now that his eyes had met yours, and it took him a moment (which felt like eternity) to process it was you. "Baby.." His grip immediately loosened and his eyes fell. He looked horrified, at himself rather than anything. "M'sorry." There was a tone in his voice that made him sound ashamed, like he had just broken bad news to someone he loved.

"Don't apologize to me, Jesus Christ." You spoke almost too fast and brought your hand to his face again, you felt bad for scaring him awake- your plan had massively backfired. It took Joel a minute before he melted into the touch of your hand in his cheek, something he will only do when it is only you and him around each other. "Shouldn't have been sleepin' while you weren't home." He muttered, his eyes looking everywhere but at yours.

Your heart ached, he shouldn't feel like this- fuck, you're so stupid for doing this you thought to yourself. "Don't apologize baby, hey-" You brought his focus to you, and only you, "-listen, you're alright, okay? We're safe here, you know. I'm safe, Ellie's safe, you're safe." You reassured the man in front of you. "If you want to sleep all day without a care in the world, you can do it."

Joel was being extremely vulnerable right now- and he knew that you sensed it. This part of him never came out, he was always the strong one in the relationship (not that you weren't, he just had that aura linked to him). Your finger rubbed back and forth over his cheek. "M'sorry for waking you from your nap- I was just too jealous of how peaceful you looked. All comfortable in your blue sweater.." your eyes started to trail down his body right in front of you, "-your sweatpants.." you snapped yourself out of the trance you had fallen in, your eyes reaching back up to Joel's.

He was just quiet, in his own thoughts. "Ya'know I love you." you told him. He looked like he snapped out of his own thoughts once you said this to him, the smallest smile known to man appearing on his face (it was genuine, though). "I know, darlin'." This was your cue, you reached forward and placed your lips onto Joel's. Now this, this was home- god, you could've had your lips on his all day for eternity. Joel melted into the kiss, and placed one of his hands on your thighs.

Things had got heated between the two of you within seconds, suddenly the positions were switched and you were straddling Joel on the armchair in your living room. It wasn't until you tore apart from his lips that it hit you. "Ellie’s going to be home soon, baby. We can't have her catching us like this- not again." You tell him as you catch your breath. His lips find your neck, he only hummed in response. After a moment of no proper response from him, you tap his shoulder, "Seriously, Joel!". He had grunted, basically forcing himself off of you. "So let her see us, not like she don't know 'bout it." He muttered, leaning back in the chair you two were in. "Oh, suddenly you're mister PDA?" You asked as you got up, stretching.

He said something under his breath that you couldn't catch, but chose not to pressure him about it. "But hey.." You grab his hand and help him up, "Maybe you could help me in the shower, hm? Let me borrow some o' that good smellin' shampoo ya' got? Wash my hair for me?” Your eyes met his, a smile completely lighting up your entire face. "I'on mind, doll. Maybe you could help me with a few things too," He reaches down, pressing a wet kiss onto your lips.

You take this as the perfect time to slip your fingers between his, and lead him up to the second floor of your large house. Even though you had completely scared the shit out of Joel earlier, and you thought you were a dead man for a split second, he forgave you. He always forgives you - this is why you love him.

Joel had promised you that he would always stay, no matter what had happened between you two. After years of being together, through your ups and your downs, through your serious arguments and your little scares (like this), he was yours. Joel was always yours, and you were always his.

You two come laughing down the stairs, completely soaked from the shower you had taken together. Joel was back in the clothes he wore when you got home, and you were changed into one of his shirts and a pair of sleeping shorts you had. He had his hand in yours as you lead him down the stairs. Before you could even step foot on the first floor, an "ew!" was yelled by a familiar voice.

"That is fucking disgusting- I cannot believe it! I can't leave you two together for more than thirty minutes before you turn into fucking rabbits. I may as well start thinking about names for the baby!" Ellie over exaggerates, acting completely disgusted from you and Joel holding hands.

Joel shoots Ellie a death glare as he drops his hand from yours momentarily, about to open his mouth before you interrupt. "Do I need to send you to your room, or something? You're so fucking crazy Elle!" You had let the little nick name slip out of your mouth, "You know I would never do anything unholy under the same roof as you." Well, you weren't lying. You and Joel never did it while Ellie was there, you didn't want anyone hearing what happened while you two were alone.

"Don't care, that's gross! Dinner is already made, I am GOING TO BED!" She had yelled as she was already half way up the stairs to her room on the second floor. Joel's hand snaked around your waist from behind as you tsk. "We got stuck with the most batshit crazy kid, I'm telling you."

Joel's hand tightens a smudge when you say that, "I love her though, and you I guess." He rests his head between the crook of your neck and slightly lets go once you add that. Even after the little bicker between the teenager, you couldn't help but smile to yourself.

Even though you were in the midst of an apocalypse, life couldn't have been anymore good to you. They gave you Joel, and you were content - more than content - with it.

—

when you wash your hair, matt maltese

[woofwoofwolf]

That which matters more (part 1)

Tighnari x reader.

EDIT AS OF AUGUST 29TH: I'm still working on this fic, but it's going to be longer than I initially thought. (I'm currently at 20.000 words on chapter 9 out of a planned 18, but that will probably become more.) So you can see this as the first draft of chapter 1.

I know I keep saying this but I will most likely be posting soon ish, with weekly updates! I'm working really hard on this fic, so please stay tuned.

Warnings: Fem!reader, (though I think there is no gendered language in this chapter, but I might have missed something so fair warning) reader is aro/ace, (but again idk yet how big of a role this will play.) Minor injuries

1580 words

This is chapter one of a series I'm working on right now, and although I don't think I'm going to be able to finish it anytime soon, I think if people like it on here it might motivate me more to actually finish this? I currently have 5 chapters planned and I've started chapter 3, but I constantly go back and change stuff in previous chapters (the reason why I never post anything tbh) soooo... who knows. This first chapter might also get changed in the future, but I'm actually decently happy with it so far?

Let me know what you think! I'll post this to AO3 in the future.

“Be careful, please,” Collei nervously clasped her hands against her chest, eying the ivy covered ditch you were standing over. “You’re going to fall!”

“I almost got it, just stand back and don’t worry-” You gasped out. Your left arm was fully outstretched, while your right grabbed on to a branch sticking out from the ledge right across from the flower you were trying to pick. “After this we can go back to Gandharva Ville, I promise-”

“Got it!” You said when you finally had the stem of the flower between your fingers. However your  wide smile soon turned to shock as the dry root you were grabbing onto cracked and snapped, and sent you tumbling down a hole, right through the dense ivy.

Collei screamed as a dull thud sounded at the end of your tumble. “Oh my goodness, are you alright?!?!” Her knees fell to the ground to peer into the hole you just fell into, which was thankfully a lot less deep than she had thought it to be. What surprised her tho, was the big yellow cloud that hit her face, completely surrounding the both of you, while you were splayed out on a bed of moss, entirely covered in ivy and pollen. Around you were dozens of the mystery flowers you had just picked. “O-oh no- What do I do!”

A cough signalled that you were still alive. “A rope would be nice,” you groaned.

“Right! A Rope!” Collei sprang into action, quickly looking for a rope in her satchel. “Can you climb out on your own? Oh.. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to carry you.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine… I only scraped my knee a little bit,” You said as you tried to stand up on the slippery moss. Ugh, your leg was going to be sore for a while… “There’s so many of them!”

“I’ll bandage it as soon as I get you out!” Collei said as she secured the rope to a rock.

“No, not that! The flowers!” You pulled the ivy of your arms, making the pollen fly off you, making you cough again. “They sure produce a lot of pollen too… You think holes in the ground like these are their preferred habitat?”

Collei sighed with a small smile. “Well… At least you’re well enough to still be talking. You could’ve hit your head, you know? Master Tighnari isn’t going to be happy.”

She was right, you knew Tighnari was going to lecture you on your detour from your regular patrol, but you hoped that seeing this mysterious flower would distract him enough to not go on for too long.

You grabbed onto the rope, thankfully still able to climb out of the hole yourself. You triumphantly held up not only the flower you plucked earlier, but also two other samples, WITH roots attached. “They’re BEAUTIFUL! I bet not even Tighnari has seen these flower before!” Observing it a little more closely, it was very similar to a Sumeru rose, but the interesting thing that had drawn you closer to it in the first place was the fact that not only did it glow brighter than a regular similar rose, it had also been changing colours from a soft yellow, to a regular Sumeru rose purple, all the way up to a deep red. But it seemed to have stopped now that you had plucked it. Interesting, you were going to have to examine why that was.

Collei sheepishly smiled, but quickly worried herself over your bruised and bleeding knee. You tried not to worry her further by suppressing the coughs that were coming from your irritated throat, but she noticed nonetheless.

“It must be the pollen,” Collei said worriedly. “Oh no, What if it’s toxic?”

You pensively shook your head. “This flower doesn’t have the usual characteristics for that.” You explained. “Besides, you breathed in a good amount too just now, and you seem to be fine..?”

A bit of anxiety crept up in your chest. If Collei got sick because of you, you wouldn’t be able to face Tighnari ever again, nor would you be able to forgive yourself. You were going to have to hurry back to Gandharva Ville and ask the expert to be sure.

Said expert Tighnari was not very amused when you returned that evening, but before the lecture, came first aid. He quickly had baths filled for you and Collei. While Collei went to wash the pollen out of her hair, Tighnari went to re-examine and properly clean the wound on your knee.

“I collected samples of the pollen in some flasks, and brought a few complete specimens with the roots intact. They’re really quite unique flowers. I haven’t seen them in textbooks, nor have I ever seen them on our regular patrol routes. If you bring me a map, I can point out where we found these. If we figure out what made them grow there, I’m sure we could find more of them. I-” You were cut off by another coughing fit.

Tighnari watched you worriedly, taking out a stethoscope. “Could you lift up your top? I’d like to examine your breathing.”

You awkwardly did as he said and breathed in and out as he instructed. “I’ll be fine, really! I just took in a big gulp of dust and pollen, it’s only natural my lungs are irritated a bit. Collei breathed it in a small amount as well and she wasn’t coughing at all. This plant doesn’t have any of the usual characteristics present in flora that produce toxins.”

“Maybe.” Tighnari answered curtly, a blank expression on his face. “I’m going to have to examine the pollen to be sure.”

You were silent for a bit as Tighnari noted some things down on a clipboard. The lack of the usual annoyed and sassy lecture was spooking you a little bit. “Tighnari, I… I’m sorry…”

He sighed and finally looked you in the eye, looking for signs of sincerity. “At least you have the decency to know what you did wrong.”

You nodded. “I shouldn’t have put Collei in that position. Next time… Next time I’ll note the location on a map and ask for you or other forest watchers to come with me.”

“Good.” Tighnari said with a nod. “I know you didn’t deliberately put Collei in danger and that’s the only reason I can begin to look past this. I also agree that from the looks of it it’s part of the same genus as the Sumeru rose. If anything I’d be worried this points to an issue with the Ley lines, but I haven’t heard of any incidents that would point to this… They sure produce a lot of pollen though,” He was more so muttering to himself, than he was explaining anything to you.

“However-!” He pointed his pen right in your face, interrupting his own rant. “Although I’m very happy to see some enthusiasm from you, endangering yourself like that is still absolutely unacceptable.” Ah, there came the lecture. One you absolutely deserved, mind you. “Had you fallen unconscious, Collei would have had to go back to the village on her own to get help. Worst case scenario you could have broken your neck and died. The first and most important skill for a forest watcher to learn, is not the ability to secure the safety of the forest and its visitors, but the safety of themselves. Do you understand?”

“You guys talk as I’m not useful to have around at all.” You both turned to a pouting Collei, leaving your response to Tighnari unsaid.

“Your time as a full fledged watcher will come, Collei,” Tighnari calmly explained. “You’re still young, and besides that we have your condition to worry about. Beyond that you know you have my full trust.”

You self-consciously looked away from the two. You wondered what you could do to earn Tighnari’s trust like that. Maybe the flower you discovered really was a new species? Would that get him to talk to you about it?

“Oh I know,” Collei answered, timidly plucking at her nails. “I’m just saying.”

You interrupted the sweet scene with another set of coughs. “S-sorry.. my lungs and throat feel sore, it must’ve all gotten really irritated by all the dust…” Tighnari hummed in thought. “Best you go wash off all that pollen. I’ll have it examined as soon as possible. If that cough hasn’t gone away by tomorrow evening, please come and see me again. And we’re going to have to schedule you in for more forest safety training.”

You cleared your throat. You were hoping he was going to forget about any punishment. Then again, this probably didn’t count as such in his mind. “Alright. Thank you Tighnari.”

“And, (name),” He said after some hesitation, just before you were to leave the hut. You turned to him, met by his soft gaze.  “Please do know there’s nothing you have to prove to me, okay?”

You felt a warmth bloom across your chest. “…Okay.” With that you turned around to leave, but not before having another coughing fit. You quickly dashed out of Tighnari’s hut trying to muffle your cough with your hand. When you removed your hand you saw that you had coughed up a soft pink coloured petal covered in spit. Gross. Though, you supposed that this petal was what was stuck in your throat and that your cough would let up soon.

[funficwriter]

A Wolf and a Snake (Wriothesley x Reader)

Chapter 5: The Tides Are Changing

A/N: Enjoy!

Taglist: @yue-caelum, @reyy-chanx, @mis-disaster, @ladyarchiviste, @keigo-hawks-takami-simp

Warnings: Fighting lol, physical violence, pain, almost-heart failure (?), violent thoughts, yandere shit, yapping, vaginal fingering, a liiil bit of edging

"You've got to be careful.".

Even when scolding you, Agatha always laced her voice with sweetness. You could count the number of times she was genuinely mad at you on one hand. If she was this evening, you couldn't blame her given the circumstances.

"About?".

She sighed.

"You know damn well about what, Y/N. I'm fully on your side, and I think Lord Wriothesley will be great to you. But I worry... It's normal that you are happy beyond reason with him. I fear that you lose yourself in your happiness and forget that you're not supposed to be there, at that time, with him of all people.".

Deep down, you knew she was right. The circumstance that she worried about was your approaching wedding day, which catalyzed more and more restrictions for you. Your parents let you leave the house less and were more strict regarding your behavior, way of expression, speech... Everything.

With that, sneaking out to see Wriothesley was becoming a more challenging endeavor. Once a matter of meeting at night and being back before dawn, you now had to coordinate by the hours, pray to Focalors that no secret last-minute changes required your presence, be careful of the place and who was around (Fontainians, particularly of the higher classes, were Teyvat-renown gossipers), not laughing too loudly, and on top of it all, staying vigilant, which you were becoming notoriously bad at.

You were once a little paranoid, as you should have always been. Now, both you and Wriothesley forgot your meetings' lack of approval and the danger that may ensue. More than once, you risked being late in returning home; Had Agatha not sent a hurried message reminding you that more than one servant asked about you, you would have certainly been late enough for your Father to look for you.

Though the air of your conversation was tense, you knew you had to thank her for saving your skin.

"Y/N...".

She stopped herself from speaking once she said your name. She wouldn't have called out to you if not to say something. Something was troubling her.

"Yes? What is it, Agatha?".

After an awkward minute, she looked up to you. Her eye to yours, and her brow furrowed in disapproval. The same look your mother gave you when you played the piano badly.

"Y/N, I've always cherished you, but I have to say it: This is getting out of hand. Your adventures are becoming more ridiculous by the day. I had to pull out my rosaries to pray that you would come home before Master! I haven't done so in 20 years! I never had to keep this insane vigil over you when you started seeing Lord Wriothesley, because you knew. You always kept track of yourself, and I was fine with it. But developing eye bags? Losing track of time? Corrupting novice police forces? Making me shiver and cry for your safety?!".

All your life, Agatha took your side even if it meant putting her career as a governess at risk. There was no punishment she didn't try to protect you from, even though your parents worried that she would be lenient and ruin you. She even gave Wriothesley her approval, the only adult approval you cared about. Why was her tune changing like this?

"Agatha, I said I'm sorry and you accepted it! You know how horrible my life grows by the day, all for this blond swine I'm supposed to marry! I understand your concerns, but as of now, I haven't seen him in a month, and-".

"Y/N!!!".

She got up brusquely, an uncharacteristic gesture along with yelling your name. A pit of malaise started to grow in your stomach, and you were worried that it would spread to your esophagus and make you vomit. You didn't like where this was going.

"I would be patient if your little plan would yield its output sooner. But this is taking way too long! I've known girls who ran away with their lovers faster than you have! How much more is this going to take!? How many more near heart attacks will you give me?".

"Agatha, you told me to not jump to the drastic measure! We're still trying to do things the legitimate way-".

"Legitimate way? You're already spending your allowance the same way your Father did whenever he wanted something done faster than what the commoner got! Where's the legitimacy in that? Why do you still act for it?".

She went there. The pain was spreading to the pit of your belly, and its top.

"You want to talk about legitimate matters? How about that dumbass you call your half-brother who got kicked out of this manor like a dog? How about how he lost an entirely pleasurable and easy life because he doesn't know that an illegitimate sibling should STAY hidden?".

She gasped, burst into tears and you hugged her while apologizing for getting even lower, and you both cooled off... That's what would have happened in an ideal world where the both of you weren't so stressed. Only the first action took place.

She looked down at the floor, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered whether you had gone too far, digging into such sensitive history. But that ended when she looked up, even angrier and with teary eyes.

Agatha, the sweet-voiced. Agatha, the quiet and low of tone, a constant in your life. You did not think she could yell at you like this.

"My brother? MY BROTHER?!? You can drop the nice, exceptional noble act now! You screw commoners over with rules and break them with no regard for how the rest of us will be affected! At least my brother is still a man of integrity, and he'd sooner shoot himself than take your stupid bribes! Integrity! Can your money buy you that? Can your man-dog fling buy you that, or is he too busy with shiny bracelets and fake promises?!?".

"I never tried to bribe him, Agatha! I'm courteous enough to stay away from him! What do you mean, commoners getting fucked by rules?! Don't you think that I'm getting screwed out of a life I want? And that's why I need to do this behind everyone's backs?! And unlike him, Wriothesley does not make fake promises!".

She got up and close to your face, her tears even more visible. You never feared an adult's wrathful gaze upon you as much as hers'.

"You don't get it, do you, Y/N?".

"What?".

She stopped moving, and perhaps even breathing. Then she giggled and laughed raucously as if she were an evil witch from your childhood books. Or that one tutor who laughed at you when you gave a wrong answer.

She turned to the opposite side, before turning her face so you could see it sideways. She never gave this shit-eating grin.

"At least my brother is happily bound in holy matrimony. If Wriothesley was that intent on marrying you, he would have snatched you between his teeth by now. The length of this little plan makes it clear: He's just having a bit of fun with you.".

A bit of fun.

A bit of fun.

A day where he'll grow bored, ditch you to your grey life again, and forget about you. A day where he'll marry another woman. Not you.

In the red you saw, you slapped a vase to the ground, perhaps hallucinating Agatha's face.

"AGATHA!".

In hindsight, she was making sense. Wriothesley talked day and night, paper and in person, about how much he wanted to marry you. It was clear that legitimate methods, such as lawfully convicting your fiancé, were failing. Or taking way too long. In your world, these two were one and the same. Your marriage date was not getting postponed, even if you scarred your face the day of.

Agatha was being cruel, but she wasn't wrong. He knew and kept operating like this. You wished Wriothesley was here so you could claw his eyes out. So you could grab your sword and impale the heart he swore was yours. So you could stitch his mouth closed and he'd never tell lies again. So you could embarrass him the same way she just did.

You lunged at her, but she moved out of the way. You landed on the floor, messing up your (favorite color) dress. You never thought your fate could grow crueler. Even the color to your gray was turning out to be a lie.

All you could turn to your back and sob your heart out. Maybe if you avoided Agatha's pitiful gaze... Maybe if Celestia saw your blotched face and heard your cries, she would regret what she wrote as your fate.

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You tried to distract yourself for the rest of the night. You occupied the piano only to play sad pieces and be praised for your "empathy with the composer". You snuck a piece of cake and took a bite before feeling sick again. You walked around the manor and only got a bunch of servants asking if you were alright, and your brother saying: "Don't worry. Whatever moroseness you feel will disappear when you walk down the aisle.". It took everything in you not to burst into tears on the spot.

You couldn't leave this prison you called a manor. The only place you didn't try was the low garden, even if it held the fateful moments of his appearance. Your chase. Your star-gazing. Your first kiss.

At least it wasn't enclosed in walls. It was worth a shot.

It was a night with few stars. You never liked those, because the night you met him was full of them. It was one of the loveliest sights you saw.

It seemed to you like starless nights were a time when most tragedies happened, like tonight and the night Agatha's half-brother- No, brother was exiled. Seriously, you had to correct that "half", even if it was technically true and it hurt her at the moment. You remembered when she started the story with: "My contract has an exclusive clause that I must not tell you this, so please, keep it between us.". And you did. You returned the favor and told her of damning actions that may as well be written in an exclusive clause citing harsh punishment, many of those actions being recent.

You wanted to cry again. Perhaps you still needed to calm down, you thought. Being here didn't help, so it was time to try something new. You left to the kitchen to make lavender and chamomile tea, a brew you often drank before exams or social events. You let the tea leaves steep for a little longer than you should have, hoping that the transitory act of making tea would take up a few more minutes of your miserable day. Once it was ready, you carried the mug to your room, steps as light as they have seen since you learned how to walk.

You set the mug on your desk before crashing down on your bed and taking a deep sigh. By the Archons, what a tiring mess your life was. You had a theory that every noble girl and woman could sleep for the rest of her life. It was tiring: From the acting to the constant monitoring of your actions, you felt like human beings weren't made for this. You were glad your bedroom was away and thus had less sound emerging from it. You were taught to never crash down on your bed as you did, but it was one of those little pleasures. Just like illegitimate snacks and staying up and baltering and twirling around for the pure enjoyment of seeing your skirt float up in circles ('Y/N! Be graceful, your legs are showing!!'), they were the only thing you could be grateful for now. Your governess just joined your family and society's side on how to live, and the man you loved was potentially toying with you all along.

You didn't know which mental picture bothered you more: Wriothesley laughing at your naivete, or Wriothesley courting another woman after he was done with you. It may be the second- no it was definitely the second. The first was horrible, but the second was a far bigger betrayal to you. Agatha would be right: His heart was never yours, his promises were always empty and you may have been blind at parties while he was ogling other women. If it would be because of their faces, should you slash them with a knife or curved dagger? If it were their bodies, should you cut off the parts he was ogling or the ones they liked the most about themselves? Which other women should you go after Wriothesley, if all of this is true? Did he actually prefer common women? Or perhaps... Older, more refined or mature women like your mother?

How could he possibly look at other women when he gave you your first bout of joy, the same way you expected him to give you your first orgasm? If he never wanted you, why would he start all of this?!

But was he looking at other women? During events, you could have sworn that that wasn't true. But what was true anymore? Why wasn't he telling you what was going on? What was going on, why were you the one left in the dark by both him and everyone else about your own future?

Your pained groan ended in its middle when you heard a bark. There was no dog in this room. You looked up to see Frosty on your desk. Unlike the usual, his tail wasn't wagging and he pined once you noticed him. A sad, pitiful pine that expressed you in your current entirety.

"What the- What are you here for? I didn't send Wriothesley anything, do you have something? Wait-".

The window was wide open. Frosty had something in his 'backpack' (did it have the same name for messenger dogs?), but the paper in question was much smaller than the usual letters he sent. The ink looked stronger, too. You opened it. The format of the contents was also starling:

'Y/N

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE FOLLOW THE PUP. I CAN'T STAND THIS.

I LOVE YOU, SO PLEASE COMPLY,

WRIOTHESLEY'

"Where to, then?".

Frosty jumped out of the window onto the ledge. Did he want you to climb? Would this be worth it??

You crawled out of the window frame, thankful that your manor's roofs were easy to climb. Most of them had stairs, and there were odd bricks you could stand on for a bit. You hoped they wouldn't renovate it anytime soon.

Frosty led you up to the highest roof, also a good spot for stargazing. You had to give it to him, being so familiar with the house. You sat down but did not wait for longer than a minute. A black gloved hand grasped the ledge, and up came Wriothesley, panting and sweating as if he had a nightmare. His expression only relaxed when it landed on you.

"My Y/N...".

You stood up and waited for him to be next to you, so he wouldn't fall off. Before he could hug you, your hand finally gathered enough force to do what you thought of for hours.

SLAP!

He fell on the bricks, holding his cheek. He looked up to you in the same pitiful, sad way Frosty looked at you. The pup pined at the sight, akin to a child seeing its parents fight.

"Y/N, please...".

You wanted to scream at him. Ask for the bitch's name, whether he liked her tits or face more, what did she have that you didn't, and how dare he prove your family's stance correct. You wanted to ask him whether he even wanted to marry you. If he didn't want to anymore, to just back off and let you go on your rampage and soil your dress with blood. Take his vision and freeze him with his own powers. Whether he saw you as a young, naive maiden and whether that made you a more fun conquest.

Instead, you turned your back to him. You sobbed as quietly as you could. And that was more scalding to Wriothesley than any of the aforementioned violent actions.

"Y/N, I need...".

He stopped and let out a guttural cry you'd only hear in emergency wards. He was hunched over again. You looked back. Was he acting, just like Archandelle?

"I need you to talk to me, my love..."

"Why are you acting as if you were in pain? I'm the one who's being fucked over.".

"Y/N, what's happening? Who hurt... hurt you? Who d-do you need me to kill?".

He had this pained look all along your interaction. He couldn't have known that you were angry at him; You didn't write to him about it, nor have you seen each other.

"What do you mean?".

"Someone hurt you. Badly. Tell me who it is. Talk to me. Give me a name to end.".

You crouched down and noticed that he was clutching the right side of his chest. His fingers were red and something was lodged in the glove. You snatched his hand to take it out. It was a pill you knew too well. You had more than a few acquaintances - all older men - who took it as the last pillar to stay alive.

Heart medicine.

"Did you get addicted to medicine while I wasn't looking?! Why are your fingers red? WHY AREN'T YOU TELLING ME ANYTHING?!? What's happening to you??".

"You... still don't know? About the bracelet?".

You looked at the wolf crest bracelet he gave you. His marking, right in front of your parents. You reached the point where you always wore it on your person, even if not on your wrist.

"What about that?".

"Flip the wolf over...".

You flipped the emblem to find the upside-down wolf, its eye glaring carmine red. Wriothesley turned the emblem on his heart, the usual blue glow replaced by that same hue.

"What the- What is that?"

"Did you forget? Maybe that's why you're in this state. Among...".

He stopped to take deep breaths as if trying to alleviate his pain. His hair was dishevelled and he was soaked in sweat. His eyes were quivered down on his matted head Even his clothes looked rumpled, and his tie done in haste. Wriothesley was always the one who sent other people to the state he was currently in. Now, something was horribly wrong.

Despite your wishes, your own heart hurt looking at him. As he breathed, you wiped the sweat off his forehead. He stopped you at the third swipe, taking your hand and kissing it.

"Among my first vows to you, I said that your pain would be mine, and my heart was yours.".

Among your false and true memories, the ones he mentioned sprung out. Your emblems' glow reduced by a little, although this sickly shade of red was on his face, both within his flesh and the glow.

"I don't understand, Wriothesley.".

"The bracelet. It transmits your pain to my heart. Sometimes I feel it a bit, but I assume that it's because of... Of your current life. And I say: 'It's okay. I'll bust her out of there soon.'. But tonight... It's like you exploded. Something way more horrible than usual has happened. Someone, maybe. I want you to talk to me. I told you before, as husband and wife, we need to communicate habitually.".

"Wriothesley, why your heart? What if you got a heart attack? What if you died? What about me and you?!".

You couldn't help the fresh wave of tears. Gosh, you hated how sentimental you were. You wanted to hate him, but how could you when he bowed to you, his own heart failing because of your state and still making it a priority to hold and kiss your hand? He linked his heart to you, for Focalors' sake! By official guidelines, this is harmful magic, 'not to be used under any circumstance' for a good reason.

"I told you, my heart is yours. Ever since my eyes landed on you, it always has been, just as your pain is mine. And if someday, you're so upset to the point where I risk death, then I would have deserved it for being a bad spouse.".

You threw your arms around him, your eyes hurting from how much you've cried. He did not hesitate in holding you back. If you concentrated, you could feel his heartbeat, regularizing but still way too fast. You didn't want to imagine what a mess it was before he came here.

"Y/N, do you want to regulate my heartbeat? That is your choice.".

"You fucking idiot! Of c-course I do!".

"Talk to me.".

You let go of him, trying to settle down so you could talk. His ears perked up the slightest bit to listen to you, the first time in this interaction. This was good.

"...D-do you love me? Enough to want to marry me?".

Up to the sky the same ears shot, along with his eyebrows.

"What? I do, more than anything I've ever desired! Did someone make you doubt that? Who is it?".

"Wrio... Why is this taking so long? I'm getting married soon. This will be much harder once that happens. I don't want it to happen. Oh, Wriothesley, today sucked, I even got in a fight with Agatha...".

Once you mentioned her name, a barrage of your last month and beyond started. You didn't stop after recounting the fight; There were the times your parents scolded you for having a curl out of place when Archandelle was coming over. Your brother trying to console you with your 'marriage'. Staying at home for days at a time. Memorizing every nook and cranny of the manor. Having to live like a thief, from hiding your love to your late-night tea. How you feared returning to the same state you were in, years right until you met him.

One good thing happened with this. The more you talked, the dimmer the red glow became.

"... Wriothesley, I feel like any woman with some noble connection is cursed. My mother married a man she didn't love. Agatha's husband abused her and she had to pay a lot to get divorced. My grandmother even loathed her husband, but everyone married her off because he'd 'discipline' her. And I have to follow this tradition of unhappy women, but I don't want to. It feels like I have no one to talk to. I feel alone. I hate it...".

You stopped and took a breath, wondering where all this revelation was coming from. You never opened up to Agatha with this much detail and intensity. This must have been waiting for years to get out. Why did your mind pick him, of all people? Was it because you just so happened to be messy at that moment?

Wriothesley held your hand again. His eyes did not fully dry from a few tears that threatened to come out at some point in your talk.

"Wrio, are you okay? Do you want a cup of tea? Did I talk too much? I'm sorry...".

"No, don't apologize Y/N. For once, my heart feels better because you let it out. Archons, I'm so proud of you for talking...".

"No one else would have been.".

"Well, everyone else is a cruel idiot. Everyone else told you to bottle it up, but you still went against them and told me everything.".

"If I am honest with you, can you be honest with me about a few things?".

For the first time in what felt like forever, he smiled. A small, sincere smile that took even more weight off of you. To you, there was nothing more beautiful, because nothing invoked as many happy memories as that curl of the lips. It was like that darned chocolate cupcake that you both reached your coming-of-age social. Part of you teasingly reminded you of your favorite new pastry, which hasn't changed since your first meeting.

"Without a doubt.".

"Is there another woman you love?".

The smile broke and he looked offended.

"So long as a woman is not named 'Y/N Balthazar', and becomes 'Y/N, Duchess of Meropide', then I couldn't care less about her.".

You tried to repress the blush; It was still too early for this.

"Is there nothing in me that you don't like? Anything that would repel you away from me?".

"In the Fontainian foster system, your father, Archandelle, Teyvat and the world, yes. Lots. In you, no.".

Your legs felt sore, so you lied down. He followed suit, by your side.

"Speaking of Archandelle, is anything happening to him or am I doomed?".

"You will not be doomed under my watch. I'm going to answer this question but first...".

He got up, steadier on his legs than he was. He cocked his head to the side, ushering you to follow him. Once you guys reached the topmost ledge of the roof (your favorite, because it loomed over the City), he handed you an item so familiar and loved, yet unseen for a long time: A wind glider.

"I was thinking of something fun to do, and your manor has some great altitude...".

"I haven't used one in ages! I forgot!".

He chuckled: "You've used it before, that's enough to know. Just trust the skies, my dear.".

He grabbed his own and jumped off, but did not fall. The wings deployed immediately, and his limbs relaxed once they spread out. His first landing spot was easy to reach. It was a lower part of your roof.

"Here! This should be a good start. Now jump!".

Sounding more panicked than you liked to admit (and risking your time), you yelled: "You didn't explain anything!! How did you get the wings? How do you- Why are you laughing at me?!".

He didn't want to make you feel insecure, but he couldn't help his laughter. You were like an adorable, helpless child, relying on him to give you the answers.

"You just have to jump, Y/N! Why would I try to get you to break an arm, huh? Just trust me on this!".

You worked hard to recount the few times you got to use a wind glider. What a horrible time becoming a pre-teen was; You were barred of so many wonderful activities, all for the sake of spending your next years securing a husband. What joy did that bring you? No, the real happiness was when you kicked your feet off the high point, spread your arms out, and floated. You were above the manor's walls, the parlor, the court's and Fontaine. It was like being a part of Teyvat itself. It was freeing.

After these long, monochrome years, your body flew again. Your heart with Wriothesley and your form into the sky, softly landing in front of him, on your feet. He smiled widely, his full and societally hated canines on show. Here was a man at least twice your size, smiling like a school boy before he knew of misery.

"You're great at this! Once we marry, you should consider competing in gliding. You'd definitely win a few medals!".

"Hey, you're the one who encouraged me. Let's pick a lower spot.".

And there was another, and another until you were far from your house's roof. It's okay, you were coming back anyway. You always came back, but he was your only betting chip for the opposite. You either had to put your hope on him, or have none at all.

During your last flight, you deactivated your wings and let yourself fall. You knew you could, you knew you wouldn't die. He caught you in his arms, carrying you by the waist.

"Hey... What was that for, my love?".

"I just wanted to skip to this part.".

Tired, you both lay down, with him encircling his arms around you. He put his head on top of your chest. His heartbeat grew slow and regular - He was safe. You were safe. While it was true that safety was but a wisp in your world, you had to cling to it while it lasted. It was the only way you'd pave a life where you could scratch his fluffy ears as slowly as you pleased, grateful to your younger self who took this risk and leave everything she knew behind.

"I didn't tell you about tomorrow yet.".

The wind gliding made you forget! You looked down at his icy eyes and heard him out.

"They're squeezing a confession out of him. I know, because I made sure 'his' cops wouldn't be at the investigation. From there on, it's free ground for him to go to prison.".

"He still has to be tried, though, no?".

"Yes, but it will only be a question of a lifetime sentence with fellow prisoners or in isolation. I feel like I don't have to ask if you're ready for the Pandora's box it will open...".

He tightened his hold. You knew what box he meant: Noble crime is pretty interconnected. It's common for nobles to see out their own class when committing something that a commoner could not get away with. Archandelle's trial and arrest would also mean that many others; lives would be ruined... Including your own father. It was amazing how they knew each other for such little time, and yet they already had several illegal connections.

"You're right. You don't have to ask. I'm looking forward to that trial.".

"So am I, Y/N. I'll be sure to kiss you in front of them after they're convicted. Maybe slobber up and show them too.".

"Eeeeewwww!".

The idea of a (publicly) slobbering Wriothesley was so uncharacteristic, but so funny.

"It's so I can spit on them! Do you think I should add more tongue for the extra scandal?".

"Honestly, just holding hands would be enough for that!".

"But I'm going all the way!".

"You're such a-!!".

What he was, you couldn't think of. Even your laughter quieted at the sight right under your chin: A fondly smiling Wriothesley, with growingly beet-red cheeks and twitching ears. You often theorized that despite him physically being a grown man with an impressive size, there was a boy who just sought out his own happiness, including that with the ones he loves. Just like you.

He leaned his head to give your jaw a long kiss, before whispering in your ear: "You are worth losing everything I've ever desired.".

"Eh?".

"Though I've remained faithful to my goal, I feel like I haven't been taking the right approach.".

He cozied up against your chest again.

"What do you mean, Wrio?".

"Well... When I first declared that I wanted you, I tried asking your father. Do you remember that?".

"How could I forget?".

"And while it's true that I was digging up dirt on Archandelle, I still tried to go the tried-and-true way. Discover some horrible crime, snitch to the Court, sue and let them punish him...".

"Yes?".

You weren't sure where he was going. You looked down to see him gazing at the moon.

"Maybe I shouldn't have. Maybe I should have just showed up to this door and gutted his fetid body. Maybe I should have killed him during the parties.".

Deep down, you knew you wouldn't have an issue with that. In fact, you might even cheer. Why didn't he do it from the start, then? You felt like you had the partial answer in your hand, scratching it just the way he enjoyed.

He chuckled: "You really like my ears, huh?".

"Speaking of which... Is that partly why you didn't start with the violent approach? Because people are already shitty enough to lycanthropes?".

"Smart. I still remember my shock when you told me you liked lycanthrope authors. It was the first time anyone considered my kin to be something good. But there's another reason. A bigger one.".

You couldn't help but jolt up. Bigger than life-ailing discrimination? As a hybrid and noble man, Wriothesley was already a one-in-a-million case, so it would make sense that he'd want to avoid keeping stereotypes.

He broke his gaze from the moon into yours. Maybe that was part of the reason why he loved you so obsessively: Because there was no getting used to your beauty, your voice, your mannerisms, your smarts and your tenderness towards him. He never liked surprises; Routine was a good way to regulate himself and stay on the down low. Surprise was never a pleasant thing for him from his foster parents to the Beret society. But you? You always caught him off guard in some way, possibly without meaning it. You held gleeful surprise and pleasure and the joys he was constantly told about in the orphanage, but never found until he found you.

The shining look of your (eye color) orbs made him take the vow: He was never going to be passive when it came to you again.

"When I first met you, I had no way of knowing whether you would be okay with that drastic measure. Whether... You were just like me. Whether you, too, spent your life seeking out empty promises. Had you been like most people, jumping to violence would be a sure-fire way for you to hate me. Oh, how could I live being hated by you, Y/N? After everything I've been through, it would definitely break me.".

"Wriothesley...".

"The night we met, I played it passively in hopes of not scaring you away, and keeping my own status. Yes, I still get judged, but it's nowhere near as bad as what I've had before. I thought I would be better off not risking what I gained, and acting normal to you. But when I got to know you more, and when I'm risking losing you... I realized what a mistake that was. I don't like what Agatha did tonight, but she was right on one account. I should have snatched you to myself from our first roof exchange.".

He breathed, as if he's been itching to say this all along. When you first laid down, your head was above his. Now he loomed over you again, as well as his body, in a position that you could associate with a soft bed and your first night post-marriage.

Once he dipped down and kissed you, it was your turn to have an irregular heartbeat.

The world felt most beautiful when you two closed the distance between your bodies. They were like two pieces of a puzzle: Molded for each other. His hand slowly ran beyond your knee and on your thigh, the other behind your back. Your arms had to stretch to go around his wide shoulders, but it also made you feel safe; He would protect you from anything, including the imposed fate you feared.

That same hand grew higher, and higher, but stopped right before your inner thigh. He broke apart to ask: "May I? I'll stop whenever you want to.".

You raised your leg, as if trying to get him closer: "Yes...".

Was it just him, or was that more of a moan than a word? Could you even speak in this state? And why did you have to rile him up like this?

He kissed you again, his hand squeezing at the soft meat, then running over your hip. It's not that you were as sheltered as your parents would have liked, but this was your first time being touched like this. It was as if he was awakening nerves you didn't know existed. You didn't feel this sensitive when masturbating.

Getting tired of your thigh, he laced his fingers between your hip and your panties, before sliding them off. Even from there, he picked up on where most of the heat was coming from, and it wasn't your dress' fancy fabric.

He raised himself to lift your skirt up. There was your slit, coated in its own lubrication, and your legs shaking ever so slightly. He hadn't even started and you were already mewling and getting excited, your body already anticipating the orgasm. He couldn't help cooing.

"I can't wait until I make you cum."

You whined, tired of him making you wait, then wrapped an arm around him.

He ran his fingers up and down your vulva, coating them with your juices, before circling around your clit. The sensation made you squeal out. You heard it had thousands of nerves, but what was that?! It was not a cold night, but your entire body was shaking as if you were freezing.

"Ssshhh... We have to be discreet. Do you like this, sweetheart?".

"More... More, please!".

He was not expecting this vocality, but he wasn't complaining. He dipped down to leave little kisses on your collarbone and neck, while he played with your sensitive clitoris. He occasionally gave it a break, running his fingers in circles around your womanhood, flaring up whatever nerves he could find, before rubbing your nub again.

The lovely thing about neck kisses was that you could not avoid his husky-voiced whispers: "I bet he won't make you feel the way I do right now.".

His fingers slipped down to your hole, still circling around it before he would slip in.

"This lovely body and its tremors aren't his, are they?".

"N-no! I swear, they're not!".

He stopped touching you. Don't get him wrong, he loved you, but you were too cute writhing for him to not take advantage of it. He could not wait until he had you all to himself. He might even make you cry from all the pleasure he'd give you. Until then, he had to relish the limited moment he had.

"Sorry, my love, but you haven't convinced me.".

Once frigid and closed, your legs opened up even more: "Wriothesley, please!! You said it, he'll die before he even gets to see me naked, let alone touch me!".

"Oh? So you're trusting that I will take you?".

As he asked, he leaned in close, only a few inches away from kissing you. His hand was creeping back up where you wanted it.

"Yes... I'm yours, I've always been...".

His digits entered your hole. He didn't even have to look for the spot; a few rubs and you had to stop yourself from squealing. You could not stay quiet, not when you've never felt this, not when he was playing with every pleasurable nerve in your body. You were already clenching erratically around him. The more you did, the closer you were...

"Wait! Wait, I-!"

He kissed your neck again: "Let it out, baby.".

You couldn't help it. You screamed. At least you were far from your house, and it was a good type of scream. The type you felt he'd give you every night.

He helped you feel and ride out your entire orgasm, drawing out every bit of pleasure he could, while all you could do was moan out. Once you calmed down, he lowered his eyes to yours again.

"Are you alright?".

"That was amazing...".

"With the way you screamed, I sure hoped so.".

"Shut up.".

He laughed a bit, before kissing you again. This time, it was slower, softer. Tonight was eventful for both of you, after all. At some point, you two broke the kiss but remained in the same position. It was easy to hear his whisper when your foreheads were so close.

"If tomorrow doesn't work, I'll kill him before the ceremony.".

[applesontheground]

walking on the wild side 🦇

I'M A WEREWOLF FUCKER BUT DAMN THAT NEAR DARK (1987) CAN NEAR DARK (1987). amongst my other new hyperfixes i've been screaming about on here, i really liked the southern vamps and wanted to write about them and that one guy that i don't even try to hide the immediate fascination for. (would you be mad if i said i thought mr. paxton was cute in twister, too, so i knew this was coming for me?)

also, i decided to split this up. it got longer than i thought it would, an old problem i haven't had in a long time, so i've got a triple-feature coming at ya!

also also, enjoy a pic of a baby bat that i looked up while writing this! they're called pups, which i 100% included as a disgusting petname in this. 😭😭😭

SFW | Word Count: 1,694 | Severen x GN Turned!Reader contains canon typical/mentions of murder, reader has a light accent and smokes 🎼: x, x ➡ continued in the wire between will and what will be

Like the sore thumb you were, you had come home late from hunting as though it were your routine. Being your newest skill, something you just weren’t planning on doing with that life of yours a few months ago, you were aching all over and less human the longer you stayed away from the morning glow.

Speaking of, it was catching on your coattails as you slunk into the shade, reading the poorly etched number on the key you had fished from your pocket, hands still trembling from exertion – grabbing shirt collars, holding fast to the neck until the pulse stuttered enough to immobilize the body… and finding the matching room number, you stuck it into the worn slot.

Shallow relief to be given entry, you stalked through the doorway, still walking with a mild limp but a full stomach settling the pain. You heard the room turn, first to look down on you in their usual lack of warmth – then change tune as they witnessed you pull the yellow bandana from your pocket, and dab your mouth just to make a point, half of its color splattered something vibrant.

“…Fresh?” Diamondback crooned; eyes locked on the blood and hopeful. She was always banking on you being the next charity project, like Caleb had been before you fell into the way of their wayward travels. You shot a shamed glance across the floor, leading to the four of them playing poker, plastered grins and cigarettes clouding any semblance of fresh air you had rushing in your face minutes beforehand.

Finally, you nodded, continuing to stagger across the room and ignoring the way Severen shot up from his chair. “HOOO! HOW ‘BOUT IT, [SHORTSTOP/SWEETIE]!?” He hollered, feigning your jolting reaction to the loud noise for ignoring him completely.

“There’s our [man/girl/stud].” Jesse spoke much quieter, and that was what made your eyes fall back on them for a beat. “Turning into a real killer.”

You quickly slunk into the bathroom to wash the sweat, the lamenting, all of it from your body. Your handkerchief fell to the floor, stomped on by a heeled boot without second thought.

It felt as though the next time you opened your eyes, and felt ready to speak again, you were seated at a nearby diner after a day’s rest with the clan. Sleep was still in your eyes as you stared down at a plate of toast you had no intention of eating; they had ordered it for posterity, not ready to show their nature at a place with quite a few parties in the vicinity with you. It was just you, Jesse, Diamondback, and Homer; Severen, Mae, and Caleb had better places to be, you assumed. Diamondback had spoken to you, and when you realized it was a cue to speak, you just started saying the first thing that fell on your tongue from the fog of your newly turned brain.

“This can be hard, but…” You stopped, thinking legitimately before mumbling again in a careful voice, “I’ll manage. I have to if I’m gonna be hanging off your clan, and all.”

“Well, you know what makes it easier?” She asked you, making your eyes flicker back up to her from over your coffee going cold. “What?” You had a dumb tone of voice despite your efforts, unable to help the way your eyes grew a little, a sliver of hope showing in the way your shoulders rose up from a slumped posture.

She smiled and answered, “Having a partner to feed with.”

“...Who?” You felt a bizarre smile grow on your face, “…Homer?” He looked up from coloring his kids menu, flipping you off when he realized you were kidding. You stifled your spirit as you basked in your joke, seeing the other two conceal their own laughs. “No, no.” Diamond giggled, “That’s not who I was hinting at. Homer finds playmates his age, anyways.”

You blinked, suddenly feeling a prickle against your neck at what she meant. The name was dawning on you one moment too late, and you nearly grimaced. “Oh, I…” You cleared your throat, “He don’t…He d-doesn’t like me, Diamondback.”

Jesse snorted, “He’s the one who turned you, it’s only natural that it’s gonna be him.” You shifted in your seat as he went on, “He needs the help sometimes, [Y/N], in more ways than one.”

“I’m not that help.” You insisted quickly, shooting a glance out the diner window, your voice lowering fast and finding the comfortable excuses that should be clear as day to them all...no pun intended. “I’m pretty useless, and it’s best I stay alone for now 'til I’m not.”

“Suit yourself, kiddo.” Jesse stopped leaning back in the booth, making your eyes widen again as he leaned towards you, “But he’s connected to you one way or another, and that bond is going to be potent between us all until one of you goes up in flames.” He scoffed when you furrowed your brow at that, “Hey, it happens, just not old age and all that shit. Give it the time of day, time of night, and you’ll be crawling all over each other.”

“I really don’t need that …And that’s fine, I don’t ask anybody to.” You stated plainly. Diamond sat forward now, extending her sharply manicured hand to you as she cooed, “See, that’s not true, sweetie. You can feed yourself just fine, and we like having that [pretty/stunning] smile around in the small times we get to see it. We do want you here, you know.”

Jesse and Homer gave blank glances to the way your clenched hand fell from where it had been folded over your mouth to take hers, and you hummed, “I hate to say that I try to believe that.”

“Well, you're in luck. Don’t mind sayin’ it ‘til you do.” She shrugged, squeezing your hand.

After “breakfast”, you sat on the edge of the motel’s parking lot, Jesse deeming it safe to stay one more night since no one had found your clan's mess quite yet. You were waiting for the moon to rise a little higher in the sky, still aching in some places from last night. Your hunger was quickly diminished with the new turn still, well, new to your body. You could hear pulses as people passed to their rooms, used the vending machine nearby, and the dust that kicked up from the passing cars from the road itched your eyes and nose even more than it ever had as a mortal growing up in this very desert.

It was fine to sit with, but too much of it would overwhelm you fast, which was what would make you either lash out at the next daywalker or slink in for an early rest.

“Oh, I can't believe my eyes. Is that a wild child I see out yonder?”

You tensed at the sound of his voice, holding your inner elbow tighter as the cigarette planted between two fingers started to tremble where you had left it. It suit better to burn instead of trying to inhale it in an attempt to feel a lethal sensation that couldn’t touch foreign immortality germinating with each breath into your body. You couldn’t help the anxiety that came with hearing his boots scuff on the pavement as he walked over, growing closer in slow motion as you hung onto your last quiet moments. His demeanor was too casual for you to stomach just with how tense you usually were, and the situation you had to drift from in the sense of daydreaming to keep from losing your fucking mind.

“Gonna just sit here like a sack of shit, or are ya gonna hunt?” Severen asked, plopping down next to you. You shot him a look and mumbled, “Cool it. I’m just waiting for the right time, after midnight is where the drunks start getting plastered beyond compare.” You sounded uncertain of your words, so you weakly concluded, “…That’s the best ones to go after.”

“Feedin’ off the drunkies? That blood can be a little sour, make you a little wasted alongside ‘em.” He laughed, and you replied dryly, “I don’t mind, ...it feels good.” He hummed in agreement to that, and then sighed in that usual teasing twang, “You're still such a breakable little thing, though. Someone should come with ya tonight, make sure you don't get caught in bad sit-ee-ations.”

“Oh. Did they ask you to?” You quickly asked, “’Cause I don’t want to make you hang around-” You spit it out after a moment’s hesitation, “With a newbie, alright? You really don’t have to.” Severen stopped smiling to himself, and then quickly asked with a shrug of his hand out in the front of both of you, “Well, what if I wanted to? Then what, [Y/N]?”

You rose one eyebrow, squinting as you prodded, “Do you?”

“Yes’m.”

“Really, I-”

“YES, I want to bag one of these blood-filled piles of meat with you, see what kinda easy targets you’re settlin’ for.” He slung his arm around your shoulders, shaking his head as you met his eyes in a startled glower. “We hunt best in groups, and yeah, Diamondback did tell me to entertain this lil slice of bait in front'a me, but…” He smirked at you, “You hold me back, I’m gonna let you crash and burn. Simple as that, and guess what else?”

You almost asked, but he didn’t let you. “Don’t matter that I bit ya. Bite a lot of [fellers/girls/people]. They just don’t find a way to live like you did, is all.” You thought about that, but finally hummed in a surprise of agreement. “Sure, sure. It’s only fair.”

His smile faltered once more, and you stood up and brushed yourself off, dropping the cigarette and snuffing it with your boot.

“Alright. Let’s shake a leg, wildcat.” You hummed as you walked down the road without a second more of hesitation, feeling a little more guarded with the prospect of Severen deciding you were worth his evening.

“Hey, ain’t no wildcat to you, puppydog.” He retorted, but the spurs that clinked after you spoke otherwise.

[its-a-me-mango]

okay i know im late to this but like-

WEREWOLVES ARE MY FREAKING FAVOURITE CREATURES EVER???

your wolf smg4 design is so cool i wanna pet him lol

may i ask if you have some lore behind this? (if not thats ok just curious🤗)

WAAAA I'M SO GLAD!!!!!! I LOVE WEREWOLVES SO MUCH SO I'M SO HAPPY TO HAVE OTHER PEOPLE LIKE THEM TOO!!!! ;W;

Sure you can pet him! Good luck! :3

As for his lore, I went with the more "traditional" version of werewolves. Yeah turns out a lot of modern werewolf trivia and stuff is just for movies so I wanted to be a bit more true to real folklore with him. But also it's my AU so I get to add and remove whatever I want LMAO.

I'm not a writer at all (heck I can barely read) so forgive me for rambling lol.

Basic story is that, SMG4's hat got stolen and on his chase to get it back, he found a newer, cooler hat which he (stupidly) decided to wear. To no one's surprise it was cursed and now every night he turns into The Beast™ and wreaks havoc on everything around him.

I like showing him as just a big doggy but he's actually really dangerous, 4 isn't aware or in control at all as a werewolf so he has no memory of all the destruction he's causing. At first no one around knows its him but they pick up on it before he does (4's kinda in denial because he doesn't believe in werewolves), they all try their hardest to help him out to get rid of this curse while he's busy fucking shit up every night.

I like leaving his lore open ended (mainly so I can play around with it as much as I like hehe, and also I haven't decided) but in order for him to be freed from his curse, he has to either;

Find whoever cursed the hat and get them to remove it.

Kill whoever cursed the hat in the first place.

Die.

The angst potentials are out of this world maaan. I haven't made this AU to be ship oriented but you knowwwwww, I can make it gay for the hell of it tee hee! SMG3 is the first person he tries to attack/kill so I'm sure that does well for him lol. Also he keeps the hat on all the time and can't take it off, it repairs itself when he turns back into a human because oooooo the curse.

Thank you for asking though I promise I have more stuff planned for him soon! I've got a few fake screenshot type pieces I wanna do for him when I get the chance so stay tuned! :D

[palettepainter]

Behold: Zoot's cousins!! (in order from oldest to youngest minus Liv, who is the same age as Scooter and is the youngest overall)

Thank you everybody for your patience! I've spent a long time thinking about these characters and their personalities and my goodness does it feel good to have their refs finished!

Sum extra facts: -Zee had relatives down in New Orleans, where she'd often spend her summers with them. She has always been a big fan of music and her family in particular have always strived in the disco genre. Zee liked to explore different musics so became a frequent at Jerrys' Tunes - the shop in which Floyd worked in when he was younger. Zee and Floyd became close friends over the summer when Zee would visit, and it was through that very same shop that Zee would meet Teeth.

-Raph's parents where big sport enthusiasts and Raph never felt like he clicked with any of the sports they did, but he took up boxing to try to fit in, hoping that he'd grow to like it overtime. The boxing did help him get fitter, but it also sucked, and eventually he quit, left home, and went to Uni as an act of rebellion. After graduating he spent a few years homeless with no where to go before he stumbled upon a younger Janice and her travelling band of hipsters that had become her family. Raph spends his time with Janice and the peaceful community of hippies learning about himself and the positivity a little mediating and music can bring. After settling and finding a home Raph begins to work at a chiropractors and becomes much happier (he and Janice spoke over the spiritual plane while meditating. They have in depth talks about crystals, auras and trees)

-Penny has OCD and likes things to be organised in a certain way and for events to be planned, if they're not this can lead to her become stressed and heavily irritated. When she was younger and when Raph had started working as an official chiropractor Raph suggested she try meditating to ease stress, which didn't work (Penny: Sitting and being at one with nature isn't enough Raph. I need to punch thing-). Though hesitant, Raph suggested boxing, and shockingly it works. Penny finds her relief in boxing and other physical exercises. While Raph isn't as fond of sports as Penny is he is more or less her coach who advices her to stay hydrated and to not push herself. Penny trusts Raph a lot thanks to their close bond

-Lazer's ADHD shows in him having bouts of energy at random and impulsiveness. In his early years of his career when he started to become famous this led to a lot of people, especially fans and people wanting to do business, taking advantage of him. Lazer is a friendly person at heart, he had a habit of sometimes overlooking red flags in favour if believing everybody was chill like him. This led to a lot of heartbreaks which Penny often had to deal with the aftermath of, and while at times it was tiring seeing her brother get himself into similar situations over and over again it did led to her becoming very protective of him. Lazer, in turn, views Penny as his best friend. He trusts her whole heartedly and she's the first family member he'll tell good news to (he probably cried more then Penny did when she got her top surgery)

DO NOT REPOSY/EDIT/COPY/TRACE MY ART OR OC'S!!!

[daidi-dragan-glas]

Just a quick update.... Oncologist has confirmed that I'm one of the most stubborn people she's ever run across.... Almost 2 weeks ago I had my 41st infusion of FOLFIRINOX (chemo cocktail for stage 4 colon cancer with Mets to liver, lungs and lymph nodes)... I'm told that most people have to stop taking it at infusion number 12 or 15, and the most she(my oncologist) has ever had a patient handle was 38.. until me. I've NOT allowed them to reduce my chemo for "their" fear of MY side effects ... Hell, half the questions from them are "is this side effects getting worse?" Whether it's nausea, neuropathy, energy, bloodwork levels, etc, and always seemingly with an eye towards "we should cut back on this drug so you FEEL better... FUUUUUUCK THAT! I want this fucking cancer GONE... Not just reduced and I feel great until it kills me... I'll HAPPILY go thru the neuropathy that makes it hard to think, hard to work, hard to even type on a keyboard or work with a mouse, yes, that's coming from an IT person, I'll HAPPILY feel unsteady, feel like shit all day, up 5 to 10 times a night to run to the bathroom, and half of those times to actually have to clean up grrrrrrrrrrrrr, I'll happily take the vitamins, the injections, the pain pills and patches, the sore burning ass, the weakness and the frustration of it all, AS LONG AS I'M DOING EVERYTHING I CAN TO BEAT THE FUCK OUT OF THIS SHIT. And that means DO. NOT. DECREASE. MY. CHEMO. SO. THAT. I. FEEL. BETTER. TODAY. AND. TOMORROW..... YOU KILL THOSE GODDAMN CANCER CELLS, I got it, I can deal with the rest, I'm my own Huckleberry!!!

It's not as effective anymore though.. and the Mets in my liver are growing fairly quickly in some concerning spots...

I pushed my oncologist for alternatives.. even 2nd or 3rd opinions and experimental treatment... And she wrote a letter to the Mayo Clinic. I'm told the Mayo will not even consider giving an appointment unless they feel there is something they can do for you that is better than what you're getting. I had a phone interview, they got all my records, had a care team review my case in detail and a week and a half later, they called to set up an appointment.

I'll be doing some packing today (Sunday July 14) to leave Monday morning and be in Rochester MN at the Mayo Clinic facilities for appointments there on Monday, I'll stay overnight (quite probably in my car since things are fairly tight lately) and more appointments on Tuesday.

So, we will see what they say and what kind of treatment plan they come up with.

(yes, things are tight... Cancer treatment is NOT cheap y'all. Each and every one of my infusions gets billed to the tune of $42,000 per... Not including the testing, the Dr appointments, the hospital visits, the drugs to combat the side effects, the drugs given in combination with the chemo to combat the "essentially" allergic reactions to the chemo... {Yes, I had to ring the bell beside my chair once and had every nurse in the facility converge on me and work to reverse what was going on}... So, so far, me and my insurance company have been billed somewhere upwards of 2.2 million dollars since November of 2022. My insurance happens to be pretty good, so my portion is somewhere around half a million at this point, and as stubborn as I am, when they ask for payments, I stick to my guns and pay an affordable amount each month, to show that yes I'm making payments, and fuck you if you want more. I'm lucky!)

I would like to add... IF you are in a position to be charitable, please do one of the following:

go to one of your local oncology clinics, ASK them what their patients might need (I know there are many of you that found fulfillment in making masks during COVID, put that same effort into making hats for patients losing their hair, donate button down or zip down Henley style shirts (most of us have a port installed in the upper right side of our chest and easy access to that for blood draws, infusion and other treatments without having to fully remove your shirt is NICE), donate homemade afghans or blankets

And if you're really squirrelly, pick a local patient and befriend them, take them to appointments, make sure the snow is cleared from their driveway (chemo takes your strength and endurance away and it makes it HARD sometimes to do the simple things around the house). Rake the leaves, mow the grass, vacuum, Help them out with whatever they need (MORE THAN JUST ONCE). find out what they CAN eat and take it to them several times a week, you cannot imagine just how much that one small thing you do for them can make a HUGE difference in their actual survival!!!

Find an organization close to you that you can donate money towards local cancer patients medical bills.

Sorry, turned out to be not so short of an update and there's some rant in here too, sorry not sorry.. lmao!

but I'm sure hoping for the Mayo to pull something phenomenal out of their hat... I don't even care if it ruins my health or quality of life for awhile, I don't care about short term, I can deal with the shit of it, but I DO care about sticking around until people can honestly say... "Thank GOD that fucker is finally dead, let's PARTY!" Yes I still plan to live until I'm a total pain in the ass for even those few that love me, and then when I've died at 103 yrs old, they can spread my ashes on the Appalachian Trail across TN NC and VA and if they wish to visit they can go into the mountains and woods and I'll come to them as the breeze and whisper of the beauty of nature to them

[icybluepenguin]

Mistletoe

Summary: Astarion wants to kiss you. Luckily it's Midwinter, and he's come up with a plan that will definitely work this time. For the #BG3HolidayFluffle23 prompt "mistletoe"

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav(reader)

Tags: Astarion is bad at planning, friendly chaste kisses from the party, shenanigans, silly idea and silly story, fluff with maybe some feels if you squint

Note: This is just a silly idea that made me smile because this man can't plan his way out of a paper bag. Just winging it the whole way. I've been really struggling with my mental health and my brain is screaming at me that I should not post this- but I don't listen to my brain, it's not the boss of me! Make bad art, have fun with it, that's what I say. Hopefully it makes someone smile.

--

Astarion wanted to kiss you. 

Ever since you both had agreed to just being friends, he couldn't stop thinking about you and what he didn't have.  

Being friends was nice, it was.  He liked that there were no expectations.  He liked that you still always made time for him.  But he didn't want to be your friend the way Gale or Karlach was your friend. You listened to their problems, you hugged them, you told them they were good– and that was fine.  But he wanted more.  

He wanted to be special to you. He wanted you to be special to him.  He knew you well enough now to know that the nice part of “being friends” would also be part of “being together” in a way that wasn't just sex, but was care and connection and closeness. 

He wanted to kiss you again so badly, it was hard to think of anything else.  To feel your breath on his lips before he pressed them to yours, to be held in your arms because you cared for him, and to know that if he wanted, you'd stop. 

But he didn't know how to ask for it.  Not after the conversation about not wanting to have sex.  Kissing normally led to sex, and he didn't know if you would want to kiss him if it didn't.  If he were really honest with himself– which he tried not to be– he wasn't sure how he would feel about it either.  But he wanted it. 

So he hatched what he considered a devious, genius plan. 

It was hard to tell from the weather, but Karlach had been reminding everyone that it was nearly Midwinter.  The ground was clear of snow and there was only the faintest nip in the air, but the calendar didn't lie.  She had started decorating around the camp, making garlands for everyone's tents and trying to cook holiday treats over the campfire. 

The plan began when it was his turn to gather firewood. That was already his least favorite camp chore and whoever's turn it was to go with him usually made it even more unbearable.  It was dirty and heavy and the other person always got upset when he stopped to drink a squirrel or three.  This time, though, his partner was Halsin, who was more willing to do all the hard work and never chided Astarion for being what he called an “apex predator.” 

He was doing his best to ignore the druid's rambling about nature, until he heard the word “mistletoe.” 

“I have not seen much in this area, but it certainly is appropriate for the season.  It is feeding off this aspen, but it seems the tree is still thriving, for now.”  Halsin patted the tree as if congratulating it for doing a good job. 

“Look, a stick.  Do be a dear and pick that up,” Astarion drawled, examining his nails for imperfections. 

He marked the location in his head and resumed tuning out Halsin's lecture about parasitic plants. 

He snuck back later to harvest some of the mistletoe.  This would be perfect.  You wouldn't suspect a thing, he'd get to kiss you, and then it would be easier to talk about what he wanted. 

It wasn't until he got back to camp that he remembered you weren't staying in an inn or house with convenient doorways and roof beams to hang the mistletoe from. 

Sulking in his tent, he glared at the handful of mistletoe on his floor.  He couldn't just hang it in his tent, that would be too obvious.  He couldn't hang it in your tent for the same reason– and he didn't want anyone else kissing you.  

He began wandering around camp with his head craned back, looking for places to hang mistletoe from.  Which was fine until he tripped over Scratch and you giggled at the way the dog kept trying to lick his face while he was in the dirt. His stomach swooped into knots at the sound. Gods, he wanted to kiss you right there. 

There were a few branches overhanging the area they'd agreed on for weapons care and sharpening, after Lae'zel kept grinding her sword at all hours of the morning right next to the other tents. 

He waited until dark.  As quick and dexterous as he was, he wasn't the best at climbing trees.  Not a lot of opportunities in the middle of the city.  Not to mention living as a slave to a deranged sadist, he thought. 

He only fell out three times, which he considered a pretty decent showing– as long as no one was watching. 

In the morning, when it looked like you were getting your weapon, he pulled out his daggers and sat under the tree, making a show of honing them. 

He stood gracefully when he heard footsteps.  “Hello, dar-” 

“Oh, Fangs, look!  Mistletoe!”  Karlach had him in a tight hug before he could even think to say anything, lifting him off his feet like he weighed nothing.  She laid a happy kiss on his forehead and put him down.  “I wonder who put that up there.  Guess I'm not the only one looking forward to Midwinter!” 

“I guess not,” Astarion managed, smoothing his clothes down and picking up the daggers he'd dropped in surprise.  He felt oddly warm and cared for.  It made him defensive.  “It certainly wasn't me.  I don't need a plant to get someone to kiss my gorgeous face.”  

It must just be the fire of Karlach's engine making him so warm, he told himself as he sauntered into the woods- so she wouldn't see him gently touch the spot she'd kissed.  

When he got back, ready to wait for you, the mistletoe was gone. 

That night, he only fell out once hanging another sprig.  But he really hoped he wouldn't have to climb this damn tree again.  And he was going to make sure of it. 

It was easy to steal your weapon– you really were too heavy of a sleeper– taking it into the forest and slamming it into trees and rocks to dull it.  Now you'd have to  come sharpen it. 

He waited until he saw you come out of your tent holding it, a confused look on your face as you ran your finger down the ruined edge. 

Taking position back at the grinding station, he hid a smug grin.  Now, he'd get to kiss you and–

“Hello, Astarion.”  

Wyll, dammit.  Sounding very friendly and annoying. 

Astarion glanced at him. He was carrying your weapon. 

“Tav asked me to sharpen this for them while they help Gale with something,” Wyll explained.  “Oh, is that mistletoe? Karlach's certainly been busy.”  

Wyll put down your weapon and gave him courtly bow.  Astarion watched warily, but was completely shocked when Wyll took his hand and kissed his knuckles with a light tenderness that slammed him back into a life he'd thought he'd forgotten completely.  Bright, colorful parties, gaining favor with powerful people, the polite rituals of small talk…

“Are you going to ask me to dance next?” Astarion said sharply, shaking off the memory. 

“I wager you'd be amazing at it, if I did.”  Wyll dropped his hand and picked up your weapon again with a knowing smile. 

A harsh tsk interrupted whatever Astarion might have said back. 

“What are you two doing, this is a place to sharpen your weapons, not your tongues.”

Astarion sighed.   

“What is that plant doing above your head, Astarion?” 

“That is mistletoe, Lae'zel,” Wyll said patiently. “It’s tradition around Midwinter for anyone standing under it to get kissed.”

Lae'zel took three steps closer to Astarion, at a worrying speed.  “Kissing?” she asked, deadpan. 

Oh no.  Astarion stepped back, raising his hand in front of his mouth.  

She tore down the mistletoe and ground it under her heel.  “A distraction.  We have other concerns to focus on.”

He exhaled.  

This wasn't working at all.  Here he had thought he was setting the perfect trap and-

Oh wait.  A trap.  A trap.  It wouldn't be that hard to modify a trap to swing the mistletoe overhead when you tripped it.  He was excellent at setting traps.  Much better than climbing trees. 

After finding a few animals to drink, he sat down to make his kissing trap while everyone else was asleep. 

He set it up close to camp, but not in the main area where just anyone would trigger it.  You took a morning stroll to stretch your limbs each day and you would walk across it it when you did. 

Astarion sat just beyond the trap, pretending to read his book.  Very casual. 

He heard the trigger snap and was on his feet in an instant.  Still very casual, he told himself. 

His saunter froze upon seeing the distinct purple robes. 

“Ah, look.  Mistletoe.  You know, the berries of the mistletoe were once thought of as symbols of male fertility.”  Gale chuckled, inviting Astarion into the awkward subject.  “How they became associated with Midwinter is quite the mystery, though.  I suppose a fertility symbol becoming a romantic signifier isn't so unusual-”

Astarion couldn't take much more of this.  He had to get Gale out of the way before you walked by, which could be any minute.  He could already see Scratch in the distance and the mutt usually accompanied you. 

“It is even considered bad luck by some to ignore the tradition to kiss under the mistletoe.  Although-”

Without thinking more about it, Astarion surged forward and pressed his mouth to Gale's.  The man had surprisingly soft lips, contrasted by the prickle of his mustache.  Astarion jerked back, startled by his own actions. 

He was slightly mollified by the pink in Gale's cheeks and the way the man mumbled, “I suppose we will not be having bad luck, then,” without meeting his eyes. 

Scratch bounded towards them, breaking the tense moment.  Astarion looked, but couldn't see you anywhere.  The dog barely stopped for a pet before he was sniffing his way towards Astarion's abandoned book. 

“Hey, no! Dog! Dog, stop that!” he snapped, rushing after him.  Scratch’d eaten more than one book around camp already; he seemed to have an insatiable appetite for them.  

Astarion nearly dove onto the book, trying to get Scratch to let go of the cover without tearing it. 

Clutching his book to his chest and out of reach of Scratch, he returned to his trap.  “I'm not kissing you, don't get excited,” he muttered to the dog. 

It looked like he wasn't going to be kissing anyone– the mistletoe was gone.  Again. 

He dashed back to his tent to grab more.  He still had time.  He could get it all set up again before you walked by, he was certain.  He was fast. 

He rushed through laying the ropes and tying the knots, crouching on the ground.  He hadn't even seen you yet this morning, maybe you were still asleep. 

He straightened up to examine his work, taking a step back. 

The unnoticed coil of rope around his ankle tightened and yanked him forward and up before he could even yelp. 

So much for no bad luck. 

He swung around, just far enough off the ground to make getting untangled a challenge.  He scowled.  Maybe he should have slowed down.  Just a bit. The only saving grace was that you were still nowhere to be seen. 

As he rotated around, a pair of sandals came into view.

“Funny, I didn't picture you as one who likes to be tied up,” Shadowheart said with soft disdain. 

“Been picturing me tying you up?” he tried to sound as sexy as possible while hanging upside down.  ”I'll do it if you say please.  Setting you loose, however, that's another thing.” 

The sound she made would have hurt his feelings, if he didn't feel the same way. 

Shadowheart picked something off the ground and then held it over his head by one leaf pinched in her thumb and forefinger.

“This isn't what it looks like-” he started. 

She rolled her eyes.  “I'm sure.  Whatever it is, it looks ridiculous.”  She dropped the mistletoe on his face.  “Save this for someone who doesn't mind fangs.” 

“So, you're not going to help me down, then?” he called as she walked away, an irritated pout in his voice. 

It didn't really take him long to free himself.  At least that's what he repeated over and over as he stalked off into the woods to find something to eat.  Killing something would soothe his bleeding pride. 

Later that evening, as the party sat around the fire, he watched you take a bite of a burnt lump that Karlach called a cookie.  It looked dreadful.  But you smiled as you chewed slowly, telling her it tasted like cinnamon.  Always kind and thoughtful- even as you downed a huge swallow of wine. 

You were so stupidly nice, he couldn't stand it.  He wanted to be with you.  He wanted to taste that wine on your tongue.  

Forget the plan, it clearly wasn't going to work.  When had his plans ever worked with you?  He snuck away from the fire.  It took mere minutes to hang some mistletoe from your tent and return to the group as if he'd never been gone. 

He walked with you when everyone headed to their bedrolls, making sure no one else was close enough to steal a kiss from you. 

He was practically preening with satisfaction by the time you saw the mistletoe.  He was going to kiss you and you would hold him and-

“Oh no, I'm so sorry, I don't know how this got here.”  You yanked down the mistletoe, gripping it in your hand like he wouldn't notice it if you just held it tight enough.  “I've been taking this stuff down all over camp.” 

Astarion stared.  “You've been taking down my mistletoe?”

“Yes, I– what do you mean, your mistletoe?” 

“Why have you been taking it down!” 

You threw the crumpled plant to the side.  “I didn't want anyone to force you into something you didn't want to do.  It seemed like a disaster waiting to happen.” 

“I've kissed everyone in this camp trying to get you under this damn plant!”  His voice was rising too high. 

“I am so confused,” you said, putting your hands on your hips.  “What are you talking about?” 

“It's Midwinter. There's mistletoe. It's quite simple, really,” Astarion covered his embarrassment with condescension.  “Kissing, my dear. It's the traditional response.”

You looked at him until he wanted to squirm away or lash out to get you to stop.  He knew you were too damn perceptive. 

“I wanted to kiss you,” he sighed, resigned to having to tell the truth. 

“I thought you wanted to just be friends.”

“Well…” Astarion waved his hand vaguely, “Yes? I do?  But I also want to be… more than friends.  Together. With you.  But in a way that doesn't involve sex?”  He tilted his head, touching the curls on the back of his neck, feeling extremely vulnerable. “If that's something you… might consider…”

“Oh, Astarion.  I would love to love you in any way you want.”  You looked at him with a mix of fondness and impatience.  “Now kiss me, you idiot.”

He put his hands on your cheeks, drawing you close.  Your breath warmed his lips before he touched them to yours. Your arms wrapped around his waist as he'd imagined, mouth opening for him.  His tongue grazed over yours, soft and gentle, the heat of you seeping into him. 

It was everything he wanted.

-

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