#make some noise if you like this. I've neglected work for this

[adhd-merlin]

in all ways but one

Relationships: Arthur/Lancelot; background Arthur/Gwen Rating: Gen Length: 2,500 words Summary: The homosexual side of the classic Arthurian love triangle, featuring jealousy, repressed bisexuals, and Unresolved Sexual Tension. Literally just this:

(x)

Excerpt:

It's all easy enough to ignore, at first. A lingering glance here, a fond smile there – things easy to brush off and hard to notice, unless someone were looking for the signs. Arthur notices.

***

"In all ways but one, Lancelot was a man of honour." — Arthur in episode 4x09 (Lancelot Du Lac)

After Lancelot gets knighted for the third time, and for the first time properly, there is still a certain awkwardness between him and Gwen. From the sidelines, Arthur watches them soldier on and ignore it for the sake of courtly manners, and probably for his sake, too. That which resolve has started, time finishes, slowly wearing away the thin layer of stiff formality between them.

Given he loves them both, Arthur should be glad of their rediscovered friendship. Sometimes he is. Other times, he has to remind himself to be.

***

It's all easy enough to ignore, at first. A lingering glance here, a fond smile there – things easy to brush off and hard to notice, unless someone were looking for the signs. Arthur notices.

He trusts them both with his life, which is why he says nothing. Gwen acts with the ease that only a guilt-free conscience can grant, and Arthur is almost as sure of Lancelot's love as he is of Gwen's. Neither of them would ever cross the line.

And yet.

And yet, it's difficult for Arthur to keep his jealousy at bay when he knows, deep down, that he won that initial fight for Gwen’s heart not by his own strength, but by default. He has tried not to wonder whose side Gwen would be sitting at if Lancelot had not left, but sometimes he falls into temptation. He’s come up with different answers at different times.

***

For Gwen’s first anniversary as queen, Arthur arranges a great feast and a tournament. Not very original, according to Merlin, but Gwen seems pleased. Even more so when Lancelot kneels at her feet and humbly begs her to allow him to fight in her honour. She accepts.

The next day, Arthur fights Lancelot at training. His blows, perhaps, land a bit harder than usual, and he might throw Lancelot on the ground with more force than strictly necessary. Lancelot says nothing. Arthur's right arm is so bruised afterwards that it hurts to lift anything heavier than a goblet of wine for an entire day.

The day of the tournament, Arthur plasters on a smile as he watches Gwen tie her monogrammed silk handkerchief around Lancelot's arm. He thinks of the much humbler favour she gave him, years ago, right before he kissed her for the first time. As they sit on the royal dais, watching the tournament, Arthur has to endure every one of Gwen's soft gasps and sighs of relief as Lancelot works his way through his opponents with single-minded efficiency. He wins the tournament, of course. Arthur wasn't expecting any less.

***

He will not humiliate himself or wrong them by asking them to stop.

And to stop doing what, exactly? They haven't breached any law of propriety, unless perhaps in spirit, in the privacy of their own hearts, which Arthur prefers to remain ignorant about.

At times, Arthur thinks it would be easier to bear it if he did not care for Lancelot as much as he does. He still feels indebted to him for stepping aside, with his customary grace, when it was clear that Gwen’s affections did not lie where Arthur had hoped.

And he understands entirely what drew Gwen to Lancelot – he might not have been a prince, and he's not a king, but he's as valiant a knight as Arthur ever was, true-hearted, chivalrous, and with a spirit noble enough to make up for his humble origins.

He's a few more things besides, things Arthur could never aspire to be – patient, sensitive, modest. Lancelot would not throw his goblet at his servant in a fit of anger, not even one as disrespectful as Merlin. He would not brag about his fighting skills, even though he's the best swordsman Arthur has ever met. If he were to find out Lancelot reads poetry in his free time, Arthur wouldn't be surprised.

Lancelot is, in short, perfect in every way – with the singular exception of being in love with his king's wife, and even this he does with such selflessness that it is almost enough to wipe away the stain of blame. Almost.

Be it as it may, Arthur can hardly fault the man for loving Gwen. He, of all people, knows very well how hard it is not to.

***

Despite Arthur’s best intentions, his worry and irritation start to show. They manifest in mean and petty ways, unbecoming of a friend, let alone a king – picking Lancelot for the most unpleasant rounds of patrol, ignoring him in council meetings, being liberal with criticism and stingy with praise on the training field.

Lancelot accepts it all with resigned obedience, which makes Arthur feel even worse.

***

One afternoon, Lancelot knocks on the door of Arthur's chambers. Gwen isn't there, having left to go explore the market stalls in the lower town. Sometimes, she asks Lancelot to accompany her – not today, it seems.

“Have I displeased you in some way, sire?” Lancelot asks, cutting straight to the point.

Arthur doesn't even lift his eyes from the letter he was writing. “What makes you think so?”

“Your attitude, sire,” Lancelot says, levelly, but with uncharacteristic bluntness. Arthur lifts his eyes then, arching his eyebrows at him. Lancelot meets his gaze, undaunted. “Forgive me, but I must speak the truth. You have always shown me extraordinary kindness, and you have been most gracious in accepting me amongst your knights, despite… what happened in the past–”

“I do not care about your little ruse, Lancelot, I told you,” Arthur interrupts him, jamming his quill in the inkwell. “It's forgiven.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Lancelot looks at Arthur with the same determined expression he wears on the training field, when he's squaring up to an opponent. It is clear he won't be dancing around the obvious any longer. “That isn't what I meant, sire. I do not wish to come between you and the queen.”

Arthur snorts. “Don't be presumptuous. What goes on between Guinevere and me does not concern you.”

“But what goes on between her and me concerns you,” Lancelot says. The withering look Arthur shoots him is not enough to stop him from taking a step forward. “I can see it, sire. I know that Gwen's heart belongs to you entirely, but I fear that my presence here is giving you cause to doubt it, and I do not wish to trouble your peace.” He stands straighter before announcing: “That is why I decided to leave Camelot.”

Panic pierces Arthur’s chest, as sharp and unexpected as a strike from a friend’s sword. “Don't be absurd,” he sneers, trying to mask his agitation with arrogance.

Lancelot maintains his composure. “I'm sorry, sire,” he simply says, and he genuinely looks it.

Arthur springs to his feet so abruptly his chair topples to the floor. Neither of them flinches. He walks around his desk, coming to stand in front of Lancelot. He cannot explain the anger that sweeps through him at Lancelot’s cool resolve.

Suddenly he’s a young prince again, watching the best knight he’s ever met slip through his fingers, and powerless to stop it – an unbearable feeling for a king who’s since grown used to having things go his way. 

“You swore an oath to me and Camelot,” Arthur says, trying to keep his anger from his voice. “To protect us both, and to serve me. Is your word really of so little worth?” A strange leap of association leads him to think of Gwen, left broken-hearted and tearful without so much as a goodbye after a narrow escape from a harrowing ordeal. With a few years’ delay, he feels outraged on her behalf. “Of course, that's your solution to all problems, isn't it, Lancelot? Running away. Guinevere won't be surprised to hear it – you did it once before, after all.”

He can see in Lancelot’s eyes that his words have wounded him, as he intended.

“I did it for you, sire, as much as her,” Lancelot says, quietly. “And it's for the love I bear you both that I beseech you now to release me from my oath.”

Even with a mind clouded by anger, Arthur hears what Lancelot is not saying. “You don't believe she would have chosen me.”

For the first time since he entered Arthur’s chambers, Lancelot's assuredness wavers. “I cannot presume to know what was in her heart,” he replies, but he lowers his eyes as he says it.

“And yet you left.”

“I didn't want to put her in the position of having to make a choice,” Lancelot says, because of course he would be the better man and think of others first, when Arthur was only thinking about himself. “When she confessed her feelings for me, she thought she might not live long enough to see you again.”

Arthur scoffs. “So it didn't count?”

“I only meant that she might not have been as forthright if we had met again under different circumstances.”

“But you don't doubt the truth of what she said,” Arthur insists, like a dog with a bone, not knowing himself what mad urge is driving him to drag the truth out of Lancelot when he's been trying to ignore it for so long.

Lancelot takes a moment to reply. “I believe she meant what she said, at the time,” he says, carefully, “and that she still holds me in esteem, despite what happened. That is all I can hope for. That is more than enough for me.”

“It’s not, though,” Arthur says, shaking his head. “You love her.”

The truth, now bare and undeniable, stands between them. Some emotion, which Arthur cannot name, flits across Lancelot's face at that accusation, like a ripple on the surface of a pond.

“I love her, sire, as much as I love you,” Lancelot says, his eyes as earnest and guileless as they were years ago, when, in a damp and dingy cell, he pleaded Arthur to let him ride at his side on a suicidal mission.

Arthur lets out a single burst of bitter laughter. “No, you don't.”

As he says this, Arthur’s anger evaporates, leaving only hurt in its place. He's not sure what pains him more – that Lancelot's love for Gwen surpasses his commitment to him, or that he would lie to Arthur's face about it.

“But I do, Arthur,” Lancelot protests. “I do.” He looks and sounds distressed, as if Arthur were doing him wrong by not believing him.

Lancelot's eyes search Arthur's face, hoping to find some trace of understanding. There is too much in those eyes – too much trembling honesty, despite his lies; too much devotion, for a man who was threatening to leave a mere moment ago – something too naked, too telling, so much so that Arthur feels the need to avert his eyes, as he did once, years ago, in that dingy cell. When he does so, Lancelot places his hand on Arthur’s face, turning it towards him again – and then, before Arthur can react, he presses his lips to his mouth.

It's a frantic gesture; a last resort. Arthur can tell from the way Lancelot's hand trembles on his cheek, from the desperation with which he pushes his mouth against his, all passion and no grace. Even so, the kiss lasts right up to the point of endurance, as if Lancelot needed Arthur to believe him. Perhaps he does – he is a man of honour; Arthur is certain he hates to be taken for a liar almost as much as he hates to lie.

Arthur doesn’t pull back, but he does not respond, either. He stands still and stiff, merely closing his eyes as he submits to Lancelot's tender assault out of confusion.

At last, the kiss ends. Lancelot takes his hand away and steps back, his eyes downcast, his face pale. Arthur just looks at him, with his mouth slightly open, too shocked to speak.

“Forgive me,” Lancelot says, his eyes fixed on Arthur’s boots. “I… I must go.”

He makes for the door, but Arthur’s hand, moving with no input from his mind, grabs Lancelot's wrist and pulls him back.

“No,” Arthur says, almost choking on the word. “Please. Stay.”

He's not entirely sure what he's asking, if he means ‘don't leave this chamber’ or ‘don't leave Camelot’; he only knows that he means: ‘don't leave me’, that the thought of Lancelot leaving is unbearable, just as it was the first time he did it, when Arthur had to watch the best man he ever met – the first man who ever truly understood what it meant to be a knight, perhaps better than Arthur himself – walk out of his life, leaving him with a feeling of loss he couldn't fully understand.

But Lancelot pulls his hand out of Arthur's grasp. “I'm sorry,” he says. There is genuine sorrow in his eyes.

Lancelot turns and leaves, and Arthur lets him go.

***

That night, Arthur seeks comfort in Gwen's body with an urgency that leads her to ask him what is wrong.

“Nothing,” Arthur lies, with a kiss between her breasts, because he can't very well tell her, ‘Lancelot is leaving us, and it is all my fault.’

Gwen looks unconvinced, but she pries no further.

***

The next morning, Arthur wakes with a feeling of dread, surprised that he's slept at all. He goes through his usual morning rituals with impressive stoicism – he eats his breakfast, reads the patrol report, and has Merlin prepare him for his training session, all the while listening to Merlin's mindless prattle, and never once throwing something heavy at his head.

He walks onto the training field much earlier than usual, expecting to find no one – but someone is already there, practising with a sword on a straw dummy. The distance is too great to make out much of him, but the precision and the swiftness of his movements are enough for Arthur to recognise the man at a glance. He starts walking faster.

“Lancelot,” Arthur breathes out when he's but a few steps away from him.

Lancelot turns. He doesn't bow to Arthur, as he normally would; instead, he wipes his sweaty brow with the back of his hand and looks at him warily. “Sire,” he says. He shifts his grip on the hilt of his sword.

“You're still here,” Arthur blurts out – an observation worthy of Merlin's wit, but the obvious relief in his voice seems to put Lancelot at ease.

Lancelot sheathes his sword. “You were right, sire. I took an oath to serve you and Camelot, so I'll endeavour to do so.” He pauses and adds, hesitantly: “That is, if you'll still have me.”

Arthur smiles at him without even meaning to. “I wouldn't wish you to be anywhere else.”

Lancelot's face clears up. “Then I remain your loyal servant,” he says, with feeling, and he bows.

Of course he is, just as he ever was, and Arthur was a fool to doubt it. The realisation hits him with staggering force, and it's all he can do not to embrace Lancelot.

He claps his hand on Lancelot's shoulder and squeezes it, instead. “Think you can beat me today?” he asks.

“I'll do my best,” Lancelot promises, almost solemnly.

Of course. “You always do, Lancelot,” Arthur says with warmth through the odd tightness in his throat. He backs a few steps and draws his sword, adjusting his grip with a twirl of his wrist. “Come on, then.”

With a happy smile, Lancelot unsheathes his sword.

[yeollie-plz]

Take You Back To Church

Priest! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Synopsis: You came to get forgiveness for your sins, the priest has some ideas on how you can do that.

Genre: smut

Warnings: religious talk, religion, religious themes, sacrilegious, cheating, infidelity, p in v sex, unprotected sex, oral m! and f! receiving, spanking, pet names, degradation, choking, sex in a church, public sex, almost getting caught, hair pulling, if I believed in hell that's where I'd be going

Gif credits to owners!

♫ Church by Chase Atlantic ♫

"Bless me father, for I have sinned. It's been one week since my last confession." The partition between you and the other side of the confessional booth slides open, revealing the silhouette of the priest on the other side.

"Go on, my child." Knelt down in prayer, you glance up barely catching a glimpse of him, as his gruff voice sounds out.

You clear your throat, "I've been having thoughts about a married man, father." A shuffle is heard on the other side, almost like the priest is sitting up straighter.

"It's more than thoughts, actually. I've been having relations with a married man, father, and I can't seem to stop."

Another noise comes from the other side before the door is opening and he is throwing your side of the booth open. Looking down at you on your knees is Father Joel Miller, the married man you had just been talking about.

A few weeks ago you had come to the confessional to confess your sins and had met Joel. Who instead of forgiving your sins, gave you even more to confess.

You glance up at him through your eyelashes, lust blowing out your pupils. You almost make a motion to stand, before his hand is placed onto your shoulder and keeping you where you are.

"Stay on your knees, baby." He says before he's closing the door behind the two of you and unlatching his belt buckle. He's pushing his pants down quickly like you could disappear right out from under him.

Your mouth is open and waiting for him when he pushes his dick past your lips. All the way back, causing you to gag at the intrusion. He fucks into your mouth, gripping your hair roughly to aid in dragging your mouth onto him.

He keeps thrusting into your mouth, head tossed back at the feeling of using you. You stay on the floor, at his mercy. Knees bruising a bit from the rough wood flooring, but you don't seem to notice as your own pleasure drips down your thighs.

You know better than to touch yourself, but its getting harder and harder as his thrusts get rougher. You gag onto him again, causing him to groan. The sound and the way his knuckles are going white from gripping your hair so tightly, has you moving your hips trying to feel anything. He notices and strokes your face with the hand not in your hair, making a noise of annoyance at you.

"Don't even think about touching yourself." Is all he says before he thrusts into your mouth one last time, before pulling out. You look up at him confused, knowing he hasn't finished yet.

He grabs your chin and pulls you to your feet, attaching his lips to your already swollen ones. Kissing you for only a moment before he is bending you over the prayer bench and pushing your dress up past your hips. Ripping your panties off of you before attaching his mouth to your dripping pussy.

Licking a stripe up your tender folds, he grips your ass cheeks and spreads them, giving him complete access to your pussy. He licks you roughly, again like there is no time to waste. He brings a finger to your neglected clit, working it in time with his tongue.

You are already on the peak of your orgasm. Your hips push back into his mouth, trying to help yourself over the edge. This has him pulling away and flipping you over to face him. His eyes bore into you and only the dominance in his eyes has you cowering, knowing not to push your luck any further.

His lips return to your folds, tongue now focused on your clit, while he pushes two fingers in past your dripping center. His tongue fucks your bud in quick circles, while his two fingers curve inside of you stroking your g spot. You are brought back to your edge almost too quickly.

Just as your pussy is clenching onto his fingers and your orgasm is washing over you, the heavy doors of the church are opening and a few sets of footsteps are funneling inside. The fear of getting caught has him working you through your orgasm even rougher, fingers fucking into you harshly. His teeth bite down lightly onto your clit before pulling off of you.

Lips now finding yours as he is trying to silence your heavy breathing. He pulls his fingers slowly out of you as to not make you too oversensitive. Pulling away from you, he pulls his pants back up.

Glancing down he sees your panties in a bundle on the floor. Picking up the torn fabric, he gives them a quick sniff before shoving them in his pocket. Looking down at your flushed form, he strokes your hair soothingly, before leaning down to whisper in your ear.

"We aren't done yet baby. Come to my office at 6, want that pretty mouth back on me." He says before he's leaving you a mess in the booth.

6 o'clock on the dot, you find yourself sauntering down the halls of the back offices of the church. You went home, calmed yourself down, and cleaned yourself up a bit before returning to the silence of the old building. Deciding against putting new panties on.

Almost as soon as your knuckles find contact onto the door of Joel's office, the door is whipped open and he is pulling you inside. His lips find yours quickly and hands are ghosting up your legs, goosebumps raising in there stead.

When his fingers find contact with your bare cunt, he is smiling into the kiss. He mutters a, "good girl" into your lips, before his hands reach under your thighs and lift you up to wrap your legs around his waist.

He keeps his lips on your feverishly, tongue slipping into your mouth. Walking the two of your over to his desk and placing you onto it. Bare ass exposed to the cool wood. His lips detach from yours and he's glancing down at his watch.

"You were almost late." He says, mouth inches from yours, torturing you.

"By only a minute...please." The last part comes out as more of a whimper than you intended, but it conveys your need.

"Tell me what you need, my child." His eyes darken as they read yours. Its almost laughable how much he got off on the whole power dynamic of this all.

"Just need you, father. Show me how to be forgiven for my sins." He chuckles and returns his mouth to yours. Kissing you deeply for a moment before breaking it and getting down to his knees.

For the second time today he is lifting your dress up past your hips and attaching his mouth to your pussy. And for the second time today your pussy is completely drenched for him without him even having to do much. He could look at you and you'd be soaked.

Unlike earlier, though, he is licking at your folds a bit slower. Taking his time, knowing that now there was really no way for the two of you to interrupted. He works your bud in slow circles, the motions causing your hips to jerk into his mouth, somehow still sensitive from earlier.

This time he doesn't stop you and lets your body just feel the pleasure. A bit of is dominance has faded with the passing time of the day but you know that soon he will be fucking you like his life depends on it.

He licks you for a bit, letting your body get ready for him. The action of giving you pleasure, also getting him harder by the second. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't been hurting from his blue balls earlier.

When he decides you have had enough, he returns to his feet and kisses you once before pulling you by your hips off of his desk. He walks you over to his desk chair and sits down before patting his lap. You follow the instructions and straddle him, you lean forward trying to catch his lips with your own. But he holds up a finger against your lips, pushing it in past the warmth. You swirl your tongue around it a few times.

Pulling out his finger he brings it between your thighs and pushes it past your walls. Fucking you quickly with his index finger, knowing that only one finger was not enough for you. But now he was teasing you.

He works the finger in and out of you, the feeling of his rough digit causing you to writhe on top of him. A moan escapes your lips, the first one you've let out all day.

"There she is." Joel says before he's pulling his finger out of you and gripping under your ass. He lifts you off of him and flips you over. Pushing you down flat onto his desk.

One hand stays on the back of your head, keeping you from glancing at him as he unbuckles his belt. The fabric of his underwear and pants pool at his feet. He grunts as he works his dick twice before swiping the tip onto your folds, gathering the wetness.

The action causes you to let out a whimper and this is all he needs to hear before he is pushing his dick fully inside of you. The stretch barely noticeable with all the prep that you have had to endure today.

He groans at your warmth and tosses his head back, reveling in it for just a second. When he recovers he is fucking into you quickly. The blue balls from earlier are catching up with him. All focus on you is now thrown out the window, all he needs is his release.

His hands fiddles around at your neck. His hot fingertips trying to find purchase of anything, finally finding your cross necklace. Fingers grip the thin chain as he pulls it back, the cool metal choking you.

Hips thrust into yours, all that is heard is skin on skin, and your little moans. The hand that isn't gripping your necklace is digging into your hips, probably leaving bruises there.

He grunts, "It's been too long since you've came to see me."

With how much he is holding you down, there isn't much movement that you can make. But you do move your neck slightly trying to look at him. Instead you make eye contact with the pictures on his desk. One is a picture of him and his daughter, identical smiles shining on their faces. The other is his wife on their wedding day, her white dress almost blinding.

You gulp and close your eyes, "Don't wanna get caught, do we." A pang of guilt hits your heart, but this moment is quite literally fucked out of your mind when he lifts your hips and thrusts into you at a new angle.

His arm is wrapped under your waist holding you up, the other is still gripping your necklace. Its almost as if he noticed what you had been looking at because he is now spearing you with his cock, like he's on a mission. A mission to make you forget. A mission to make you cum with him.

And it works because you are clenching onto his cock, warning of you oncoming orgasm. You know he is close too, with the way his hips stutter ever so slightly.

"Cum for me." Is all he has to say before you are thrown over your edge. Vision blurring as he fucks you through your peak.

You've barely come down from your high when he is pulling out of you. You whimper at the loss, still not being able to turn and look at him with the grip he has on your necklace.

His own hand works his dick, chasing that orgasm he denied himself of earlier. The hand on your necklace pulls back harder as he reaches his own orgasm. Ropes of cum paint your thighs and ass as the chain of your necklace finally snaps, cross clattering to the desk under you.

When he finishes he is leaning his body over yours, trapping you to the wood. He licks your earlobe before biting onto it lightly. He gets off of you, letting you finally turn and look at him.

You pick up your broken necklace from the desk and hold it up to him. Your head cocks in question. He lets out a chuckle, before taking it from your hands.

He places a kiss on your forehead, "I'll fix it."

[familyvideostevie]

hit me with the sunshine!james and grumpy!reader fluff, loser :)

-cece

how delicious! so good i'll ignore the name calling <3 all for you, @theemporium :) i've never done this trope before so hopefully this works!!! | fluff, fem!reader, grumpy!reader x sunshine!james, 1k

"If you keep frowning like that your face is going to stick," James says lightly. He startles you a bit, but you don't let it show. He knows you well enough to tell, anyway. He slides his hand over your lower back as you continue to stare, arms crossed, at the book in your hand.

"Ha, ha," you say, toneless. "James, it's no use." Your lower lip has a small indent in it like you've been chewing on it. He wonders if you'll let him kiss you in the store.

"What's no use, darling? Catch me up, I'm slow." Sometimes, if you're in the mood, you'll bump your hip with his when he teases like that. But you don't move, don't even lean into the hand on your back.

"I think today is going to be a bust." It's shopping day -- different from errand day, you both wander around local shops and buy things you don't technically need. Birthday presents, new clothes, books. It tires you out immensely and James knows that tonight you'll fall asleep in his lap with a movie in the background.

"Why's that?" he asks. You won't ask him to go home early, even if you're not enjoying yourself, since you know he's got things to buy. You won't even sulk -- that's not your style. He'll just be able to feel it radiate off of you, and while he adores your slightly sour disposition, he never wants you to actually be upset. Dissatisfied with the state of the world? Sure, who isn't. Annoyed at slow walkers? Again, join the club. He loves you when you're frosty, he loves you when you're grumpy, he loves you when you're soft in his arms when you wake up every morning. It doesn't matter. He loves it all.

"I--," you start. You set the book back down on the table perhaps a bit too forcefully, as you wince at the noise it makes. "I'm just annoyed they don't have the edition I wanted. When I called last week they said they did." You take a deep breath. "And I'm frustrated that I've dragged you here when it's on the other side of town as the stationary shop we need to go to for Remus and all the other places we need to visit." You sigh again, frown deepening. Time for him to make his move.

He's mastered this by now. James knows that you'll let him underneath your exterior no matter what, half because he's so damn charming and half because you want him to see you, to make you smile. And, if he's honest, he's got no idea why you let him. But from the moment you met it was clear that he was the perfect companion to your mood.

"I'll buy you another book. Two other books. No, three!" You turn towards him and his hand slides to the flesh of your hip, squeeing once, gently. "Well, any more than three and you definetly have to carry some."

You aren't convinced. "James, that's not the point --"

"Well, who needs books, anyway?" He hooks two long fingers through your belt loop and tugs gently. You allow it, falling into his chest and catching the lapels of his jacket, frown still in place. But he can see he's getting there -- your eyebrows are quirked in interest and your shoulders are already looser. He taps the tip of your chin with a knuckle before cupping your cheek. "I could just ravish you in the stacks of this shop, instead. No purchase required."

"James," you scold. Your grip on his jacket tightens and he can tell you're fighting a smile. "I will not be kicked out for public indecency. Who even says ravish, anyway? Who are you, a historical romance hero?"

He nods very seriously. "That's my day job, obviously. How did you not know? You really should pay more attention to me." That earns him an eye roll and tug at the corner of your mouth .

"Poor you," you drone. "Most neglected boyfriend on the planet."

He drags his thumb across your skin, watching it pull. Your nostrils flare. "No," he says. "No, I don't think so. You couldn't neglect me if you tried." He moves his face closer, so close that your noses brush. Your eyelashes flutter and your eyes close.

"Only because you're so bloody loud," you say, softly. "It's very hard to ignore you." He scoffs.

"Careful," he says. "Or I might think you're flirting with me." He drags it out even more, brushing his lips over yours without properly kissing you.

"Now that would be a real blow to my reputa--" you say, but he ends his own game and presses his lips to yours. You gasp and he swallows it, right there in the fiction section of the bookshop. James doesn't let it go on too long, lest you actually get kicked out, which would be a shame since he knows you do like this place normally. So after a few mostly decent-for-public kisses, he pulls away. Your hands loosen their grip on his jacket and he releases your face.

"Shall we go, then?" he asks, finding his voice a little rough. He loves the effect you have on him. You nod, frustration seemingly gone for now.

"I hate when you do that," you grumble, linking your fingers together. He squeezes your hand. "Cheer me up so easily."

"No, you don't," he says, beaming at you. You reach up and flick a loose curl back into place.

"No, I don't," you say, suppressing a smile. "I still don't have my book, though." Well, at least you no longer look put out about it.

"Then we'll go to every shop in the city, silly girl," James says, tugging you toward the exit. "We've got all day."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, masterlist here!

[hroscek]

✎📃Dottore studying headcanons📚

Back again with more Dottore content. This is a bit of a mix between a modern au but still somehow compliant with Genshin? Idk I just wanted to write ab him studying and projecting finding inspiration in my own life without having to explain how he has access to YouTube in his akademiya days okay? Anyways enjoy and make sure to study if you happen to be procrastinating at the moment (I will know)!

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Dottore study headcanons

Probably the type that ultra-focuses on the material in front of him leading to generally neglecting any and all other needs until he physically can't anymore (nearly burnt down his dorm via hair catching fire from a candle when he fell asleep at the desk)

Thinks he's above attending lectures so he'd definitely be that one student that never shows up but still ends up acing the exams.

Fully believes that he must achieve a state of total focus to optimize his brain. This starts as threatening the other students into leaving him alone as he studies, drawing the curtains and shutting out all other distractions. Probably spent too much on finding a good noise-cancelling headset.

After getting kicked out gracefully parting ways with the akademiya he devoted some time to trying to find ways to improve his focus even more. I'm talking full blown rounds of experimentation with different methods such as binaural beats (actually works tbh), sensory deprivation tanks etc. Sort of how greater lord rukkhadevata would shut herself away to meditate, but he would never admit how similar their methods are.

Honestly I wouldn't be surprised if the original Dottore is just floating in a state of meditation rn trying to achieve max brain power (legit a headcanon for me now lmao).

Seeing as he probably doesn't sleep much, especially when in the thick of experiments he tries his best to compensate in other ways. He drank an inhuman amount of coffee or energy drinks (or both at the same time tbh) until he grew a tolerance to all forms of caffeine and is now forced to actually sleep once in a while.

He is intimately familiar with is work area and instantly knows where everything is. To outsiders it looks like a mess of various documents, piles of paper, supplies and mechanical parts. Often he asks a new intern to fetch him a sheet or something and they'll spend hours looking for it in the raven's nest that man calls an office. Then he'll show up pissed as hell like "It was under the desk next to the 3rd used energy core. Are you really that stupid?".

When he's in the zone he's deathly silent, his eyes laser focused on whatever page or machine he's trying to figure out. An observer might be afraid he'll burn a hole trough the object with his eyes. This is probably the only time he doesn't wear his mask as he doesn't want anything to obstruct him. Archons couldn't help the unfortunate soul who dares to interrupt him in this state. Instant volunteer for his next experiment.

Pantalone once decided to gift him with an expensive stationery set in a desperate attempt to get him to organize his study. It included quills, ink, various highlighters and organizers all in pastels with cute motifs. "To bring some positivity to the gloomy atmosphere around you!". Dottore claimed to hate it but was seen months later using a kitten-themed notepad at one of his labs.

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Another post, another slay (probs a flop). I'm currently taking a half-voluntary gap year because I decided to switch universities a little too late in the year oops. And honestly in this time I've realized how much I thrive in the academic environment and I miss studying so much! Idk might sound a bit too optimistic coming from someone who's currently not under any pressing deadlines or tests but I really do miss it. As much as I hated crunching the night before a test and stressed about the material I believe it's an environment I truly thrive in. I really do find such comfort in being able to take notes, discuss with classmates and professors. It's probably one of the many reasons I find Dottore relatable. We both share such a thirst for knowledge and focus way too much on our favorite subjects. I'm rambling, sorry. Thank you so much for reading and please don't be shy to send me asks or comments with ideas you'd like me to expand upon. I'm still pretty new to writing in fandom space so I'd really be grateful to get feedback and see what the community wants lol.

Have a good day! ❀

[fluffer5]

Humans and childrearing

My 3rd entry to humans are space orcs and dang am I seeing our species as the odd one out with all our quirks.

Again, my basis for this would be the movies and stories I've watched or read. So, most information I've got on alien child rearing center on quirks that can be considered as the constant for their entire specie. Like, a new behavior exhibited by the parent towards their young that doesn't conform to the norm is absolutely rare to the point that other parents or those who are old enough to care for a child would immediately go to rescue the youngling who seems to be in danger or in pain. Some who couldn't afford to keep the child would at least have this decency to put the child in foster care where someone could raise and shelter them till they're strong enough to leave or go on an adventure on their own.

Humans though? We're absurdly complex creatures with a malfunctioning sense of familial love on our youngs. We love them one moment, and hate them next. We'd be filled with adoration for this new life in our arms, then feel disgusted and annoyed at them for making too much noise, taking up too much time, taking up so, so much of us until this supposed guardian spirals down into the neglectful, angry person some kids know.

Of course, not everyone reacts that way. But it happens often enough that we have medical interventions, guidelines, and even agencies or social groups that deals with that particular problem.

There are parents or guardians who would hate this unknowing baby for killing their wife, sister, daughter, or mother in the process of their birth. There are mothers who would neglect and feel resentful of the precious bundle they gave birth to for taking up the attention of HER husband, HER family, even though she knows that it's wrong to feel that way with her baby. There are siblings who feel the ugly crawl of jealousy up their stomach, heart, and lungs to the point that they work towards sabotaging the growth and milestones of this new child they see as competition. Heck! There are parents who would continue to give birth even though they KNOW that they're not financially secure and their children might suffer from starvation or a sickness that they can't afford to pay off medicine.

The children? We grow up carrying the scars of survival. Be it visible or not, we have it.

Hearing this information upon opening the topic on how each race care for their young (each one giving the usual rearing they have in a clan and how they always pull out younglings who are more sickly and fragile to be given thorough love and care but never one that is nagging or suffocating because instincts and talent needs to be given time to develop), the Unified Intergalactic Council, one made up of elders, warriors, healers, historians, builders, star-readers, and other reknowned professions would stare baffled at the human representative with horror and worry.

"You say that your kind treasures your young but punishes you for the smallest mistake?" a healer asked looking confused and displaying anger through the minute movement of his brightly colored frills. "Punishment for not finishing food when the hatchling has declared that they are full?! And they had the gall to be offended for this young one for wasting precious resources?!"

"I was too young to question it," the human representative, Kara, relayed the information, not seeing the practice as… punishment, but more of an experience that most kids her age shared. "When I got old enough… Well, I never thought to revisit the wrongness of such practice again since I moved out of our house."

"Well, I, for one, am far concerned when you said some of your wars were fought by children? Did your leaders lose a part of their heads to think that children could fight for their battles? And you said some of those children were trained with the bares of skill and would learn most of it on actual live-combat?!" a veteran General was left in confusing garble and grumbles that is most probably a jumble of curses and profanities if she reads right into the indignant face of said General's wife, a War Strategist.

"I'm concerned for you, child," an old star-reader (their version of a prophet) gently laid their hand on her arm, eyes swirling with the birth of new stars and the death of others, their voice fluctuating from masculine to feminine, pitch becoming a scramble of highs and lows. "You have told us of the joys in your planet. How happy it is to be a Terran. How you love this deathworld even with its harsh seasons and mighty predators and lurking sickness. Yet now that we are speaking of caring for your young, you've been growing more upset, distant."

"Children are considered as gifts to all species," Kara would bitterly remark to them star-reader. "That's what you told me… That's what I've been told by the adult Terrans."

"What do you think then, child?" the star-reader asked even though they already know the sad truth of this youngling's life. And she is a youngling. Kara is 20 cycles old. Still so young since Terrans do not stop their brain development between their 30th or 40th life cycle. They shouldn't have pushed their children to this. Terran young should've been learning new skills and not rushing at that age… and yet….

"I think… I'm tired of working so hard for others and not living for myself. I'm tired of being not enough. I'm tired of having to give a piece of myself to everyone who needed me. I'm tired of being the eldest sibling, Myrtzhg. I'm tired of giving up a lot of opportunities I want because my mother, my bearer, would tell me to give these opportunities to my younger siblings! It's never me, Myrtzhg! And I'm so tired of thinking it never will!"

That was the exact same day the UIC panicked, trying to sooth the Terran youngling from their pent up emotions. Even the strictest of the council members had a mild panic attack when Kara full out wailed and didn't seem to be consoled by their usual Terran sweets and treats. They later learned that Kara got a message from her own bearer to hurry up and give them money because Kara's siblings need it for a celebration, even reprimanding Kara how should stop being such a greedy, ungrateful child.

Earth was but one intergalactic missile away from destruction if not for the swift swat to the head by a fuming Matron saying they should kidnap all the children and good parents first before blowing up the planet… Kara, of course the sweetheart that she is, disagreed to the plan.

[artroidsart]

Can we get some YDKJ Host/Weapons Drawn Host HCs, please?

If not, that's ok with me, too

12:02 am, 4/8/2024

Headcanons? Absolutely! Buckle up, I've got a lot of them!

YDKJ Hosts:

Cookie is a BIG eater. It's a bad idea to leave a bunch of snacks in front of him because he will eat ALL of them if he isn't stopped. Schmitty has seen him devour an entire bag of chips in one sitting without batting an eye.

Schmitty uses his cane as a mobility aid. He has a bad balance, and the cane helps him stay stable. He's gotten better over the years since he used to need a wheelchair as a little kid.

Nate can ride a skateboard and perform a bunch of cool tricks. He's been able to teach Guy some techniques, but the other hosts have been less successful.

Guy enjoys a LOT of sports, but his go-to is basketball. He's probably the most fit out of the hosts. He tries to make sure the other hosts stay in shape too. (Looking at YOU, Cookie.)

Buzz is the youngest of the YDKJ hosts, something the others playfully tease him about. He's also the shortest, which doesn't help his case.

Cookie is confirmed Bisexual, Schmitty is Gay but went through a bi-denial phase, Guy is Pansexual, Nate is Bi, and Buzz is Asexual.

Schmitty WAS married to a girl named Sandy, but things didn't work out. It's implied Sandy was neglectful in their marriage, leaving Schmitty feeling ignored and unwanted. (This was during his bi-denial phase.)

Nate was a radio host during college, long before starting YDKJ. Now he has a podcast on the side.

Buzz collects a bunch of bee-related things. Bee plushies, bee figures, bee decor, and whatever else strikes his fancy.

Cookie and Schmitty were the ones to stick with Jellyvision, (which would turn into Jackbox Games). They all keep in touch and are all very close, but the others went to do other things. Guy works at a gym, Nate has a podcast, and Buzz got into programming.

Binjpipe ROYALLY messed them up. Cookie has trauma over being directly controlled, Nate was mentally altered into a paranoid conspiracy theorist for "Truth Talk 23/7", and Buzz worked feverishly to break them out. Schmitty is worried sick about everyone Binjpipe got her claws on, and Guy does his best to support and comfort Buzz and the others.

Weapons Drawn Hosts

Lord Tippet comes from Old Money, meaning his family has been rich for a LONG time.

His family has a lot of connections, including the Ham family ([REDACTED]'s family of the Murder Hotel)

Tippet and [REDACTED] have been family friends for many years, and Tippet is one of the few who know his true identity. (He doesn't know much about the whole murdering side of his bestie.)

He's easily spooked. Loud noises like lightning or slamming doors make him jump. He usually clings to someone when startled.

Tippet is the most DRAMATIC guy you will ever meet. Ya boi has a fainting couch at the ready.

The Narrator is a living manifestation of evil, specifically of murder. She's been around for a LONG time.

She's more powerful than Binjpipe or Felisha, but not as powerful as The Wheel of Enormous Proportions. There's a sliding scale of power for Jackbox entities.

As an entity of murder, she has an awareness of all killers, such as the detectives. Should she become interested in certain killers, she can easily learn whatever she wants about them. The Narrator can discover all their crimes without even being spotted.

Tippet and the Narrator have a love-hate relationship. He hates how much trouble she (indirectly) causes, and she enjoys teasing him (in a cosmic entity kind of way).

[bardic-inspo]

Writer Interview

Playing some catch up on tags. Tagged by the wonderful @pursuitseternal, @marlowethebard, @nyx-knox, @honeybee-bard, @snowfolly,

and @paganwitchisis holy shit thank you all!!

Not sure who all in my circles has done this already, but gonna tag @wilteddreamsofbaldursgate, @astarionancuntnin, @pinkberrytea, @locallegume, @thedreamlessnights,

@ladymdc, and @carooosa if you see this and would like to do it! No worries if not!

When did you start writing?

Around 13/14 years old, doing warrior cats roleplay on proboards forums. Roleplay isn't really my speed anymore, but it eventually bridged me into more traditional narrative writing and then fanfic later. Fallout 4 was the first fandom I really wrote fanfic for.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

I really love intricate long-running plots with slow-burn pay off, and used to write more in that vein, but got pretty burnt out on it. It felt like it would take so long to get to those big moments I pictured the whole time, by the time I arrived to them, they felt played out in my head. Trying to strike a happy medium now by writing (relatively) shorter and more focused fic/storylines that still pack a punch, but maybe have fewer branches.

Otherwise my genre/theme preferences are generally the same with writing vs. reading and are pretty broad.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

Not a writer, but I've been told at various times there is a poetical element in a lot of my writing, even in just the sentence structure or how I tend to pace my prose. That makes a lot of sense to me, since I wrote a lot of poetry before getting into writing a lot of prose.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

I used too many tricks on my brain to jump start creativity (yummy beverage, cozy blanket, favorite candle when writing) and now my brain often demands all of these things be in place to do any writing 😬I can sometimes get away without all of them. Usually, I'm writing in my office, which is a pretty blue color with some gold picture frames and often a soothing space. But, I do work from home in there at times, too, and on workdays I can't make myself do creative things in the same spot I sat in working all day. Then, I'll be at my dining table or sitting on my couch, usually with headphones because I have a hard time concentrating with other noise around me.

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Self care. I mean, making sure I've got sleep/food/hygiene etc. squared away where they should be, even if it means taking a break from the page. Most of the time when I'm trying hard to write and it's just not jiving, it's because I've neglected one of those things, and the words always come easier once I've addressed them.

Playing the game again. Listening to character music. Chatting with friends who love the character, too.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

Yes! A lot of them became apparent to me only after switching fandoms and realizing I was writing about a lot of similar themes. Grief is a big one. Characters who've experienced both a lack of love and a loss of it. Characters who fall in love again or in spite of that loss. The main ships I've written for all feature characters who either loved someone else first or, in Astarion's case, have gone through the forced motions of romance.

Battle couples is another big one. Bisexual battle couples. 🥰

What is your reason for writing?

It's always felt like something I needed to do to feel whole. Not necessarily the sharing the writing or posting it part, or getting a reaction about it, but doing it at all, even just a little. Even if it's just for me. I feel more me when writing is at least a small part of my life. More free. It's my creative outlet.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

I adore any comment. I'm borrowing this from someone else's interview post, but I too am a slut for praise. In all honesty though, just knowing I'm not writing into some void or vacuum can be so powerful. Even just a heart emoji comment makes my spirits soar.

The ones that go full red string and corkboard about the plot or characters, or quote what parts stick out to them always stick with me. It lets me know I'm hitting the mark with what I'm trying to convey.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

I want them to know I'm still good for it even if it takes me a long time.💜That's the biggest thing to me right now. I'm not able to pour it out so quickly as others can. But I hope they know it'll be a good time when I do eventually post.

And also that I'm just some lady. I'm just another human bean. Wanting to share and enjoy stories with other human beans, and connect with a sense of community through those stories.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Visceral/punchy action scenes, vivid descriptions, setting tone, and portraying character personalities.

How do you feel about your own writing?

My feelings about it change with the tides. Right now, I'm a bit glum, and I think that's because I haven't had much to share or post lately, even though I've been doing lots of writing that isn't ready to be shared yet. On the other hand, I'm having the most fun with it that I've had in a very long time, and that element feels great.

I'm grateful for what I've done, incredibly blessed to have made friends and found community through writing, and ever-striving to find the happy medium of productivity and creativity.

When you write, are you influenced by what others enjoy might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

It's mostly what I'd like hehe. And I'm happy about that. I am often inspired to try things based on what I see in fandom, but if I don't enjoy it, too, I won't pursue it further.

[tolietpaperdreams]

Hysteria Chp 4 (Hartbreak)

Okay fine! Five parts it is, but that’s it, I have too many other ideas I need to write lol. Plus I really like the ending I have planned for this story.

Comments n stuff are always appreciated, hope you enjoy! K here’s your smut byyyyeeee <3

The time passed slowly. It always did whenever Bret needed to keep his mind occupied. He trained for an extra hour every day, he spent more time with his friends. Anything to shut up the noise in his head, but when it came time for him to lie down at night, there was always that empty space.

Granted, it hadn't been very long. Maybe two weeks since the fight with Shawn, but that didn't change how it affected him.

The most he'd seen of the blonde was backstage or in the locker room. He wanted to talk to him, tried to talk to him, but every time there seemed to be a different excuse. Shawn would need to go warm up or he couldn't talk because he had a meeting. The worst was when he approached Shawn in the locker room one day only to have Hunter step in his path and give him an ‘eat shit’ look.

They still had to work together; the pay-per-view was coming up fast and they needed to sort out their match. But that couldn't happen unless Shawn was willing to talk to him.

Bret truly thought about begging. He considered finding Shawn’s hotel room and pleading on his hands and knees for just a second of his time, but that would be ridiculous. He thought about the Orchids and the old lady who said they meant strength and unity, but Bret had never felt more alone.

It all seemed like a load of bullshit now, but Bret wasn't so easily deterred. He resisted the urge to go back to his old ways of sticking his head down and keeping his nose to the grind, but there wasn’t much else he could focus on besides work.

Owen, Jim, and Davey had forgiven him for being so caught up in everything that he’d essentially abandoned them. Bret would make sure he never lost sight of how important they were in his life again. They also encouraged him to win back Shawn’s affection.

The problem was that he had no idea where to start. Approaching Shawn directly hadn’t worked, so now what? Should he wait for the blonde to come to him? Or was there a more discreet option?

“You could give him a note,” Jim offered after training one day.

“We’re not in middle school Jim, a note would be useless,” Bret disregarded that information as he wiped the sweat off his face with a towel.

“He could be onto something,” Davey added, unlacing his boots, “That way Shawn’s dogs won’t get in your way.”

Davey referring to Hunter and the other guys as ‘Shawn’s dogs’ didn't really sit right with Bret, but he let the insult roll off his shoulders.

“What would I even write?” He did his best to keep an open mind.

“Ask him out,” Owen finally chimed in, “You guys never even went on a real date before you dived head-first into whatever it was that you guys were doing.”

That was a good point. He and Shawn had moved so fast that Bret never once thought to take him out. Shawn probably wanted to be wined and dined; he wanted to feel worth something, and Bret had neglected that part of their budding relationship. He didn't even know what kind of restaurant to take him to.

“I don't know, I've never-”

Owen cut him off, “Stop hesitating. Do you want Shawn back or not? You need to show him he’s worth it.”

That was enough encouragement for Bret to start brainstorming.

***

“What if he says no?” Bret adjusted his black button-down shirt in the mirror; he felt like he looked crazy but Owen insisted he dress nice.

“He won’t,” His little brother rolled his eyes as he sat on the hotel bed.

Bret took the advice of his brother and friends and decided to send Shawn a note. Through some networking the night prior, he was able to find what hotel room the other man was staying in and slid the note under the door like a lovesick teenager. It was a simple note, maybe too simple. All it said was, ‘Dinner, tomorrow? -Bret. RM 102.’

There were no flowers or extravagant gifts; it was just Bret in a button-down that hugged his chest a little too tight and a desperate plea for Shawn to open back up.

“I didn't even give him a time,” Bret was so focused on the semantics of everything that he was starting to sweat. What if Shawn just didn't show up or never even noticed the note in the first place? What if Hunter or one of the other guys got to it first and trashed it? The collar around his throat was starting to feel tight.

“Will you relax? He’ll show up,” Owen said nonchalantly as he stood to look Bret over once or twice.

All he wanted was a chance to show Shawn that he wasn't a screw-up. He’d dress nice, wear uncomfortable clothes, and buy all the stupid Orchids in the world if it gave him the opportunity to tell Shawn he wanted the real thing too.

“I should do one of those grand gesture things like they do in the movies,” Bret started to fidget with the shirt collar.

“You definitely should not,” Owen grabbed Bret’s hands and pushed them down to his side, so he’d stop fidgeting, “Relax, dude. It’s just Shawn.”

“There’s no such thing as ‘just’ Shawn,” Bret emphasized to his brother, “He’s- y’know… he's Shawn.”

Owen gave him a look that must have been a mixture of disgust and confusion, “You’re weird.”

Bret couldn't do anything besides laugh at Owen’s remark; he was so grateful for his brother’s help but of course, he’d have to pay the price at the same time.

After making sure Bret looked his best and was as emotionally ready as he could be, Owen left. He told Bret to wait for half an hour and call him if Shawn never showed. He couldn't help but feel like he’d be calling his little brother sooner rather than later.

Again, the time passed slowly. Bret was so wound up he was starting to sweat. He didn't know what he would say to Shawn if he even showed up.

The minutes felt like hours before finally, at the twenty-minute mark, there was a soft knock on the door.

Bret stood and tried to flatten his button-down that got crinkled from him being hunched over on the couch. He was already so uncomfortable, but if this was what it took, he’d do it.

He walked over to the door and took a deep breath before opening it. Shawn stood there with a nervous look on his face. The blonde wore a button-down of his own with nice jeans and boots, a gold necklace laid around his neck, and his hair was styled down.

Bret tried to speak, but he was caught ogling before he could get a word out.

“What?” Shawn crossed his arms and did his best to convey annoyance even though his cheeks were turning pink, “Are you gonna let me in?”

“Yeah, of course,” Bret said, moving out of the way.

He wasn't entirely sure how to greet Shawn. Obviously, he'd have to earn a kiss, but would a hug be too much? He decided at the moment to play it safe and let Shawn take the lead.

“You look nice,” Bret turned, following Shawn into the room.

The jeans Shawn wore hugged his ass perfectly and Bret had to remind himself to breathe.

“I know,” The blonde said curtly and leaned against the nearby table.

If Shawn wanted to have an attitude that was fine, Bret could handle that. If anything, it was a good sign because at least Shawn was talking to him.

“Right,” Bret figured the best thing to do would be to push through the awkwardness, “Thanks for coming.”

Shawn huffed and rolled his eyes, “What is this? An interview? Are you taking me to dinner or what?”

So much for the stoic apology act Bret had planned, “Shawn, I would love to, but you're already making it difficult.”

“You invite me out over a note after we haven't spoken in weeks and you just expect me to be cool about it?” Shawn spat back.

“I want to fix this,” Bret tried as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Then why did it take you so long?”

“Because you wouldn't talk to me!”

“You hardly tried!”

They were suddenly nose to nose, neither man willing to step down.

“I did try,” Bret grabbed the front of Shawn’s shirt, “More than you think.”

“You should have sent that note weeks ago,” Shawn’s voice softened.

Bret could finally feel how close they were. Shawn still leaned against the table, hands clutching the edge. Bret could feel the blonde’s breath against his own and once Shawn’s gaze met his, he knew there would be no fancy dinner tonight.

Their lips met in a frenzy, Shawn essentially throwing himself at Bret. It was hungry and urgent like they needed each other to breathe. Shawn moaned into Bret’s mouth as he pulled the blonde’s hips flush with his own.

The feeling of having Shawn back in his arms again overtook anything he originally planned to say or do. The smell of Shawn’s cologne overwhelmed his senses as he kissed and sucked bruises into his neck and collarbone; he’d never get enough of it.

The distance had been agonizing, and Bret was more than willing to make up for it.

“Fucking jerk,” Shawn grunted as he sunk a hand into Bret’s hair and pulled him back.

Bret winced slightly at the pain before letting out, “Do you want me to fuck you or not?”

“God, yes,” Shawn yanked him in for another kiss.

He bit at Bret’s lower lip hard enough to make him whine at the pain before Shawn pushed him back onto the bed. Bret didn't see the more dominant side of Shawn very often, but he couldn't complain. They climbed to the top of the bed, Shawn straddling Bret’s lap.

The kisses they shared were hungry and wet as they both tried to hastily discard their shirts. Shawn ground his hips against Bret’s, both groaning at the feeling of their still-clothed erections against each other.

Bret needed to say something, but Shawn was busy devouring his mouth so he turned his head to the side, “Shawn,” he could barely get out, the blonde having moved down to kiss his chest.

Shawn took a nipple into his mouth causing Bret to cry out. He bit and sucked at both of them until they were pert and swollen then sat back and allowed both of them to catch their breath.

“What is it?” He panted, a smug look plastered on his face.

The way Shawn’s wavy hair laid past his shoulders was a sight to behold - the way his chest heaved and how he looked down at Bret, those gorgeous blue eyes, and the curves of his muscles - Shawn’s body was intoxicating.

“I need to see you,” Bret breathed, hands sliding up Shawn’s thighs to grab his hips.

Shawn didn’t say anything for a moment, a small smile grew on his face as the words sunk in.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” Bret added, “I've never felt like this before.”

It was a declaration of his own. Shawn made him feel utterly insane, but in the time their relationship had grown, he’d never been happier. The highs were so high and the lows were so low, but if it was for Shawn, he’d go through hell.

“I was so wrong about everything-”

Shawn shut him up with a kiss, this one softer. They weren't good with words, but they could communicate through their bodies. Bret didn't know if he was entirely forgiven, but it seemed like he was off to a good enough start.

Placing soft kisses along Bret’s jawline, Shawn reached down and began to undo his jeans. Soon they were discarded along with Bret’s and neither was denied full access any longer. Shawn sank down, his tongue tracing from Bret’s neck to his nape as fingers teased his already sensitive nipples.

Bret inhaled sharply, knowing his reaction would only encourage Shawn to continue, but he was saved once Shawn brought his hands down, wrapped one around Bret’s cock, and licked from base to tip. Bret let out a groan as soon as Shawn took him all the way into his mouth and threaded a hand into the blonde’s hair.

“So gorgeous,” He breathed, meeting those icy blue eyes with his own.

It was controlled and slow at first, Shawn bobbing his head in time with the stroke of his hand. The warmth and wetness of his mouth on Bret’s cock was almost too much and he had to use all his self-control in order not to buck his hips into Shawn’s mouth.

Tightening the hand in the blonde’s hair, Bret talked him through it, “That’s it, baby.”

Shawn moaned around Bret’s length and hallowed out his cheeks to create more friction. Bret knew he wouldn't last long with the type of head Shawn gave and he didn't want to end the fun before it even started.

He gave Shawn’s hair a slight tug so he would pull off and the blonde did so without hesitation; a long string of spit still connected the tip to Shawn’s swollen lips.

“Don’t move,” Shawn exhaled and climbed up to straddle Bret’s thighs again, “I wanna ride you.”

Who was he to deny Shawn that right? Bret reached up to pull the blonde down for a searing kiss.

They stayed like that for a moment before Shawn pulled away briefly to ask, “Do you still have everything?”

Bret knew that Shawn was referring to condoms and lube; he shook his head, “I didn’t think I’d get this far.”

He playfully smacked at Bret’s chest, “You’re lucky I'm prepared.”

He quickly hopped off the bed and went searching for his jeans.

“Wait,” Bret furrowed his brow, watching Shawn dig through his pockets, “You brought condoms and lube even though you were pissed at me?”

Shrugging, Shawn climbed back onto the bed and back onto Bret after finding what he was looking for, “I only bought them after I found your note. Knew you’d say all the right things,” He winked.

Bret couldn't help the chuckle that he let out as he ran his hands up Shawn’s toned thighs, “I haven't said much of anything.”

“Will fix that later,” Shawn set aside the condom and handed Bret the lube.

A question wracked his mind, one he wasn't sure Shawn was ready to hear yet, but now was as good as any time, “What if we ditch the condom?”

“That depends,” Shawn watched Bret spread lube on his fingers, “Who else are you fucking?”

The fact that Shawn said ‘who else’ instead of asking if there was ‘anyone else’ struck a chord with Bret. He hadn't made his intentions with Shawn clear enough.

Using his free hand, Bret urged Shawn forward slightly by the hip so he could have easier access. He traced a lubed finger over Shawn’s entrance, making the blonde inhale sharply and dig his fingers into Bret’s chest.

“You know very well,” Bret used his other hand to palm at Shawn’s ass, adding a smack for emphasis, “That I only have eyes for you.” He sunk the first finger in.

Shawn let out a whine and pushed back with his hips, already wanting more, “That- Ah! Doesn't answer the question-”

Bret always loved the way Shawn took his fingers so eagerly, but it did make it increasingly more difficult to restrain himself.

“No one else has even crossed my mind,” He cooed, adding another finger.

“Nnnh- Bret I can't take it,” Shawn whined, his cock hard and dripping pre-cum, “I need it.”

Normally, Bret would use at least three fingers to prep, but Shawn’s eagerness put that concern at ease.

“You sure?” Bret didn't want to hurt him.

“Yes-” Shawn clenched his eyes shut, “Now, Bret. Please-”

With that, Bret removed his fingers and urged Shawn to sit up on his knees higher. He slicked himself up with the leftover lube from his fingers and did his best to line himself up.

Shawn pushed his hips back, taking in the tip of Bret’s cock. As he slowly sank fully onto it, they both groaned at the delicious feeling. It felt even better knowing there was no barrier between them now, Bret could fully experience Shawn.

With his chest heaving as he adjusted to the feeling of being full, Shawn let out, “There hasn't been anyone else,” He paused for a moment, “I don't want anyone else-”

Bret reached up and traced a thumb across Shawn’s jaw, “Me neither.”

He pulled Shawn down into a kiss; it was settled. Bret couldn't even fathom the thought of someone else. Ever since that first kiss at the bar, as rushed and panicked as it was, Shawn had grabbed Bret’s heart and ran with it. Maybe even before then, but he was just too blind to see.

Finally, after sitting back, Shawn started to move his hips.

“God, Shawn…” Bret dug his fingers into the blonde’s hips, holding himself back from thrusting up into him, “You feel so good.”

It felt so different with no condom, physically and emotionally. There was a new trust that hadn’t been there before, one that said ‘I’m yours and you're mine.’

Shawn moved at an agonizing pace, his hips rocking forward and back in order to take Bret fully. It wasn't slow, but it was a more intimate pace.

Shawn grabbed Bret’s wrists and pinned them over his head as he rode him, fully taking control.

“Fuck-” Bret groaned. He wanted nothing more than to flip positions and fuck Shawn into the mattress but it wasn't his turn. Shawn was running things now.

“What is it?” Shawn breathed as he continued his movements, “Tell me what you want.”

It was killing him, he wanted to touch Shawn- wanted to run his hands all over his skin- to feel how the blonde shivered under his touch. He pushed against Shawn’s grip weakly, his brain too foggy to do much about it. Bret wouldn't last much longer.

Shawn continued his onslaught, grinding his hips quicker, “C’mon baby, tell me what you want.”

Bret couldn't help the moan that escaped his throat before he panted, “Please Shawn-”

The moment Shawn let go of his wrists, Bret pulled the blonde down to his level; one hand gripping the back of his neck and the other squeezing a hip so hard it would probably leave bruises. Bret fucked Shawn from underneath at a brutal pace.

Shawn let out a series of cries, each moan in time with the sound of skin slapping against skin. Bret's thrusts were sharp and brutal but quickly became erratic as he felt the heat pooling in his gut.

“Don’t stop- don’t stop-” Shawn whined, his own release building up.

Bret managed to keep Shawn’s request, thrusting a few more times before he couldn't hold back his orgasm. He stalled his hips as he came, pulling Shawn into a hard kiss.

Before he could come down from the moment, Bret flipped Shawn onto his back, the blonde letting out a small yelp as he did so. Bret smoothly pulled out and leaned down to take Shawn into his mouth.

It didn't take long for Shawn to cum, the feeling of Bret’s mouth around him was just enough to bring him over the edge. Shawn bucked his hips as he came and Bret did his best to take him deeper into his mouth before swallowing. He pulled off and licked Shawn’s cock from base to tip, relishing in the sight of him shivering at the overstimulation.

Shawn caught his breath for a moment before speaking, “We should fight more often.”

Bret chuckled and laid his head on Shawn’s thigh, “I think we can have good sex without the fighting.”

It was quiet for a moment, both parties basking in the afterglow of makeup sex. A tension had been lifted between them, but there was still a small air of uncertainty. Bret almost got up to get a towel and help Shawn get cleaned up, but was stopped for the time being.

Shawn reached down and gently cupped Bret’s cheek, “I missed you.”

Such tender words. Something Bret still needed to work on, but it seemed like Shawn was willing to try. He placed a kiss on Shawn’s thigh before climbing to the top of the bed and taking him into his arms.

“I missed you, too,” Bret sighed contentedly and inhaled the scent of Shawn’s hair while he nuzzled into Bret’s chest.

Shawn got comfortable and started playing with the hairs of Bret’s happy trail, “Owen told me you cried,” He said nonchalantly, “A couple weeks ago.”

Bret huffed, a small trigger of annoyance came and went. He was too tired to get upset, albeit a little embarrassed, “Are you always in cahoots with my brother?”

“Him and Hunter are good buddies,” Shawn turned his head to look at Bret, “I’m surprised you hadn't noticed.”

He hadn’t, “Guess I was too caught up,” Bret traced a finger up and down Shawn’s shoulder.

“About Hunter,” Shawn started, pausing briefly to see Bret’s reaction.

He didn't really want to talk about Hunter right after sex, but Bret made a promise to himself that tonight he would fix what he could in his relationship with Shawn.

“Go on,” He tried not to sound on edge.

“You’re not actually jealous of him, are you?” Shawn questioned.

Bret exhaled before answering, “I don't really think so. I think I was just looking for a reason to be mad,” He paused for a moment, making sure there was eye contact, “And I don't want to be with anyone else, Shawn.”

He wanted Shawn to understand that there was no one else for him and that Shawn would never have to worry about anyone else. Bret also knew that he was never truly jealous of Hunter- he was jealous of the bond Shawn had with him- the trust that he put into Hunter. Bret wanted that trust put in himself as well.

“Even though I drive you crazy?” A sly smile crept onto Shawn’s face.

“If you make me crazy, then I don't ever want to be sane.”

***

It was crunch time. There was only a week left before the pay-per-view and Bret needed to ramp up his training. He was glad that he and Shawn had made up, even though there were still some unspoken hiccups they hadn't discussed. Bret hadn't yet apologized for being unwilling to drop the belt to Shawn all those weeks ago.

There was only so much that words could do, though. Bret knew the best way to prove that he thought Shawn would be a great champion, was to put him over. He’d done it before with others, he could do it again. This time, tenfold.

“You’re getting up slower, go again,” Jim coached, diligently.

Bret tried not to wince as he got up and ran the ropes again before throwing himself into a breakfall. It was the most basic of wrestling skills, but it was one that had to be maintained. He was sweaty and his heart rate was through the roof; they’d been at it for over thirty minutes.

The work never stopped. Even though he finally had a few days at home before hitting the road again, he couldn’t lose sight of the end goal. That’s how Bret ended up training on a rest day at his in-home ring in the basement; it was his very own version of The Dungeon.

Shawn offered to come back to Calgary with him, but Bret insisted he go home and rest. They both had time off after the pay-per-view and Bret promised to show Shawn his home after. As excited as he was for that, it felt very far away. Bret’s main focus was making sure he performed well enough to make sure Shawn looked good in their match.

“C’mon Bret, don’t lose focus,” Jim said as he leaned against the turnbuckle, watching Bret run from one end of the ring to the other.

He kept going for what felt like forever, his lungs were burning and his body ached, but it was a feeling he loved. After that, they ran drills and talked through the match. With Shawn, Bret was able to think on the fly, but he didn’t want to do that for such a big match so they agreed on certain big spots to practice while at home.

Jim did his best to fill in for Shawn, but with his big size, there were just some things they couldn’t practice together.

”Tell me how you did it,” Jim nudged Bret in the ribs as he wiped the sweat off his face with a rag.

“Did what?” Bret huffed, rubbing the area where Jim had jabbed him. His brother-in-law never realized his own strength.

”How an ugly mug like you managed to snag someone like the Heartbreak Kid?” Jim teased.

Bret scoffed as he grabbed a nearby water bottle, “Says you, you look like a bulldog.”

Jim shrugged, “It got me your sister.”

Bret didn’t get the chance to jab back because his phone started to ring from upstairs.

”You’re so lucky,” He said, pointing a menacing finger in Jim’s direction as he got out of the ring and ran up the stairs.

He barely made it to the phone in his kitchen before it stopped ringing.

”Hello?”

There was a beautiful raspy voice on the other line, “Hey, Bret.”

His knees could buckle every time he heard Shawn say his name.

“Everything okay?” He wasn’t expecting Shawn to call.

”Yeah everything’s fine, just thinking about the match.”

Bret leaned against the counter, figuring he might be there for a minute.

”Me too, you nervous?” He asked.

Shawn scoffed, “No, I’ve never been nervous a day in my life.”

It was very obvious that Shawn was mortified, but Bret knew now wasn’t the time to tease him, “You’re going to do great, baby.”

“We’re gonna do great,” Shawn corrected.

”Yes, of course,” Bret took a moment to think about his words, “You’re going to be an incredible champion.”

He was met with silence on the other line.

”I mean it,” Bret continued, hoping he hadn’t scared Shawn, “You were meant for this.”

“Bret, can I tell you something?” Shawn’s voice had gotten quieter.

“Of course,” Bret mentally prepared himself for the worst.

There was a longer stretch of silence. Bret could feel his palms starting to sweat at the anticipation. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Shawn spoke, “I think I’m in love with you.”

It was a good thing after all, wasn’t it? Bret felt his mouth go dry, unsure how to respond he immediately began to stumble over his words, “I- um- Shawn that’s-“

”It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything. I just needed you to know, it’s been eating at me. I’ll see you in a few days, okay?” Shawn sounded like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

Before Bret could respond, the line clicked.

[kiwi-the-servamp-addict]

I recently redrew my subclass ocs! Every. Single. One.

So here's all of em

oh also some of the Svs have outfit changes or little things added on or like bits of redesign

also warning:there's gonna be mentions of death and ways people die so just a fair warning

here's Nyx, Kuro's subclass! They died in the Trojan war as a bystander (why was Kuro in Greece?... I don't know man...) so now they kinda go and do their own thing but they go to bother Kuro every once in a while. They often travel during the day by wearing tons of white (for less sun absorption) and covering all of their skin. They also have a bad habit of talking without thinking.

next is Amira who's Hugh's subclass! She died in a car "accident" shortly after her kid passed away. She's quite motherly towards the people around her and her bag contains anything you could possibly imagine.

Then it's CeeCee! (Fun fact I've drawn her 4 years in a row) she died because she was in a witch trial [she rejected a girl {this was prior to CeeCees transition} and the girl accused her of witchcraft] and she's very attached to JeJe and is all over him half of the time. [Mikuni is jealous... Little does he know JeJe has no interest in women {hc} and CeeCee has a gf]

Then there's Irene who's Freya's subclass! She died in a war because she crossed dressed to get in and died on the battle field [forgot to give her an animal motif...] due to her injuries she has to wear hearing aids and she freaks out about loud noises and paints to cope

Next is Jonathan! He died because he got drunk one night and might've accidentally outed himself... So... He was murdered... He also likes to cook a lot and he owns an immortal puppy (don't ask I can't handle him losing a dog.) named Diablo! He's also a massive hopeless romantic.

Now there's Anita (pink) and Catherine (red) ! They're Ildio's subclasses! Anita died because she was a lady of the night and a client made her uncomfortable w his requests so she refused and he killed her. Now she's kind of hostile to really anyone new around her. She's also a massive chain smoker-

Catherine was arranged to be married to a mentally and physically abusive man who killed the actual love of her life. So on her wedding day she shot herself and now enjoys praying on people for blood so- but she's a lot nicer than Anita.

This is Lilian she's Lily's subclass and honestly looks like a ghost Victorian child. My friend suggested making a character albino but I might have made her too white.... But I thought it was interesting and made her stand out more so I kept it. She died due to starvation and neglect form her parents. Her older sister who was only about a year or two older was doing her best to keep her alive but there was only so much she could do. Now the two live in the mansion and her sister works there and is still alive.

Lastly we have Wisteria who's Tsubaki's subclass! They died by oding shortly after their family was brutally murdered. Now they kinda people watch for fun and flirt with Tsubaki for shits and giggles and is purely here now for the ride.

And ways this concludes my redesigns on my ocs and redesigns on some of the Svs (let's be real it's like almost all of them)

this was actually really fun to do! Maybe I'll get around to drawing the eves... One day...

[coolcataetheryte]

I've never posted a fanfic on this platform before, so sorry if anything looks weird. The characterization may be a bit iffy *shrug* I wrote this at like 3am. Also, I don't write smut often, so I expect this to feel about the level of a cheesy romance novel, and maybe that's fine. Can you imagine Estinien on the cover of one of those?

Summary: The WoL is feeling burnt out and lonely, Estinien shows up and helps her relax.

Pairing: Delphinium(WoL)xEstinien

Rating: NC-17

Tags: first time, uuuh size kink i guess? Barely, basically pwp, minor plot, I'm not sure what else. I don’t do this often, sorry lol so i’m not sure what should be tagged

Word count: 3,250

Delphinium sighed as she closed the door to her inn room behind her. The sound of the other scions’ drunken merrymaking muffled to a whisper and she was thankful for it. Of course, she loved celebrating a job well done as much as the next adventurer but once things got too loud and rowdy, it was time to make her exit. The boisterous cheering and laughter and music was just too overwhelming.

She took a few deep breaths then simply stood there, staring at nothing really. The room was a bit stuffy and her clothing felt stifling. Her rapier felt heavy at her hip. She was exhausted.

She finally peeled herself from the door and laid down her weapon on the bench. Her fingers brushed her harp as she withdrew her hand. She stopped and gave it a long look. She hadn’t played it since becoming a red mage some time ago. It was gathering dust and probably had fallen out of tune. Tired as she was, maybe a little bit of mindless work would do her well. She picked it up gently and sat down right where she was on the floor. The old wooden boards creaked slightly under her. She began cleaning and tuning the neglected instrument, all other noises fading into the background and her mind fell more at ease as she focused. Her fingers worked meticulously. Her ears missed nothing, quickly fixing any sour notes. Her scaly tail swished gently behind her the more she got into it.

Quite some time had passed when she gave the harp a satisfied nod. The noise from the lobby had disappeared. They’d finally decided to call it a night. That meant it was likely around midnight now. She hadn’t meant to stay up so late but admittedly, doting on the harp had somehow given her a bit of a second wind. She looked around the room absently, fingers just barely touching the strings and creating a mere whisper of song. What should she do now? Her eyes fell back on the instrument in her hands. It’d been a while since she sang. While less so than playing the harp, as she did sing to herself on occasion, she hadn’t truly sang and she began to feel like perhaps she should.

She loved singing. She always had. It was why she initially sought the way of the bard to begin with. To use song in battle had started to strip the joy from it, however. A side effect she never would have expected. That was the reason she turned to the blade. The others of course had questioned her decision. She played her role as bard well, and no doubt they enjoyed to hear it even if their focus was battle and not her performance. She’d told them it was simply to strengthen herself and feel more helpful with damage. It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t the whole, intimate, personal truth that she had never told anyone.

In a swift motion she stood with the harp and made her way across the room to open the door to the balcony. The night was crisp and quiet, with naught but a few insects disrupting the silence. Her chest swelled as she breathed deep of the cool air. It was only when a small shiver ran through her that she realized she’d been sweating. She paid no mind and began to string together notes that drifted into the night. Then her sweet voice joined in. It was an old song. One she didn’t even remember learning. It was simply part of her core despite having few memories from before her arrival in Gridania on that carriage. A lullaby from her people she presumed, with its soft melody and lilting sung notes.

Her song faded into an echo as she finished. A small smile graced her lips.

“That was lovely.”

She nearly jumped out of her scales at the sudden voice. Normally it was difficult to startle the Warrior of Light but Estinien had a way of catching her off guard randomly. Had he been there the whole time? Why did he jump onto her balcony of all places? He was probably lost. She gave him an exasperated look before turning on her heel to return to her room. His footsteps followed behind her.

“My intent wasn’t to frighten you,” he said.

He seemed sincere but she could hear the mirth in his voice. Yet somehow she couldn’t bring herself to tell him to leave. Without a word she placed the harp in its previous resting spot. She found herself simply standing and staring at nothing again.

The material of Estininen’s trousers caught gently on one of her tail spikes and she became aware of his presence directly behind her. He was close, a hair’s breadth from her back.

“What is it,” he asked. “You only stand about like this when something is on your mind.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder and that was all it took for her demeanor to completely break away. She relaxed back against his body with a sharp sigh, her head resting just barely at his navel.

“Delphinium?”

He sounded concerned. She gently placed her hand over his. His hand felt so large. She imagined what they might be like holding her more intimately. She quickly shoved those thoughts to the back of her mind. Sure, they had their banter, and yes, many knew it was flirtatious but that was all it had ever been and this.. was entirely too comfortable. She couldn’t afford herself this. She suddenly wanted desperately to move away from him but she was stuck between him and the bench. She decided on a side step but, in her exhaustion, quite embarrassingly caught the edge of Estinien’s boot. He caught her with ease before she could fall to the ground. Their eyes met, and for a moment there was nothing in the world but the concern in his eyes as they searched her own.

Her breath hitched when she was pressed against him. Her feet left the floor, and it took her a moment to realize he had lifted her to crush her against his chest in a tight embrace.

“Whatever it is,” he said quietly. “I hope that you would trust me enough to tell me.”

The dam broke. She gripped his tunic as her tears streamed down cheeks. Estinien held tighter and gently lowered to sit on the floor as she sobbed into his chest. She easily fit into his lap.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out. “It’s just all been so much. I’ve done so much in so little time. I barely have any time to rest. I always have to be strong for everyone. I’m just so..tired.”

He said nothing but continued to hold her close. A hand stroked her hair gently. After a while, she calmed, taking deep breaths.

“You must think so little of me now,” she chuckled dryly. “The great hero, crying like a child.”

“No,” he said. “I know how much you hide your emotion. You bear quite a burden and you seldom let anyone see what you truly feel. I know how I seem, but I do understand you.”

She looked up at him at his words. Being half his size, she’d never seen his face so close before. She’d also never been so vulnerable with anyone, yet here she was looking so deeply at him with tear stained cheeks. He used a thumb to wipe a tear from her eye, then his hand drifted to caress her cheek. His thumb dared to ever so gently brush across her lip, the pink of her lipstick leaving a faint streak on his skin.

It was Delphinium that closed the distance between their lips. She gave in to the desire she held since she first battled alongside him on the bridge. He didn’t resist her, secretly having had the same thoughts since that moment. He’d cast them aside as he continued to focus on his revenge, but now there was nothing to hold him back. He helped her adjust into a more comfortable position as he deepened the kiss.

Her hands found their way into his long tresses, while Estinien’s hands rested comfortably at her waist and back. The tiny moan as Delphinium allowed his tongue access sent a shiver through him. They stayed there a while. There was no battle for dominance. Delphinium gladly gave into him, letting someone else take the lead of something for once.

Somewhere they’d ended up with Delphinium on the floor beneath him. His lips found their way to her neck, and she finally registered her horns scraping uncomfortably against the unforgiving wood as she arched a bit into him. She stopped his hand as it began tugging at the laces of her blouse. He paused, looking at her.

“Let's have a bath,” she said breathlessly.

“After. We’d need another once we’re through.”

She gave a bit of a snort at that. “Please. I want you to bathe with me. We should be clean before we do anything.”

He relented easily. One more kiss, then he helped her to her feet. She held his hand and led him to the washroom with a smile.

As the tub filled, Delphinium felt a wave of self-consciousness. She had her back to her companion, but could hear him beginning to undress. She weighed the possible consequences of following through with her actions. Was this a good idea? Could she afford to be involved with someone so intimately? Could she allow herself?

A hand on her arm turned her toward Estinien. She looked up at him immediately, trying to ignore his naked groin just below her eye level. He slowly began to unlace her blouse. He looked at her, silently asking permission to remove it. She nodded. As he worked to undress her, her eyes scanned over the scars decorating Estinien’s upper body. They were many, some old and faint, some clearly more recent. When he knelt down to remove her boots, she caught sight of his gnarled shoulder. Without thinking, she reached toward it, her fingers carressing over the marred flesh as gently as they had the harp strings earlier that night. He looked up at her and she muttered an apology, removing her hand.

“It’s all right,” he said and continued the task at hand.

Now both fully nude, a blush crept over Delphinium’s face. She noticed Estinien’s cheeks began to dust with pink as well and smiled. She took his hand and guided him into the warm water with her. Seeing his scars reminded her just how strong and resilient the Elezen was. To hell with her doubts, Estinien could handle himself. The fear of losing him would always be there, but she knew he would not fall easily. She was tired of handling everything alone. It was clear he felt the same.

The tub was more than large enough for them and she was thankful not to have ended up cramped together. She’d never been so close to anyone, let alone been naked with them. But she was the one that wanted this and wouldn't back out now. Estinien watched her while she began to lather soap onto a cloth. She tried not to appear so nervous under his gaze.

She looked at him, this time being the one to silently ask permission. He nodded just as she had. She washed him gently. Upon reaching the scar on his shoulder, he placed a hand over hers. She understood, relinquishing the cloth to him. She found another and scrubbed her face, removing her lipstick. Wiping under her eyes, she realized how smeared her makeup must’ve been, and how silly she likely looked. She laighed to herself, drawing Estinien’s attention.

“What is it,” he asked.

“Nothing. Just imagining how I must've appeared this whole time. I’m sorry for suddenly crying at you. And sorry if your tunic is stained.”

It was his turn to chuckle. “Pay no mind. I have other tunics. I’m honored you shared your tears with me.”

She smiled and kissed his hand gently. “Let me wash your back?”

He nodded, then turned to give her access, moving his hair off to the side. She rubbed the cloth over him, again noting all of his scars. She kissed a thin scar near the base of his neck. He turned to her and she was about to apologize when he captured her lips with his own once more.

“Your turn,” he whispered.

She looked at him confused.

“Your back? I should return the favor.”

“Right,” she laughed awkwardly and quickly turned away from him.

He didn’t hide his chortle. He was a bit rougher with his washing than Delphinium would normally be. However, she could tell he was cleaning her scales with the same precision he cleaned his weapons. She relaxed into it with a sigh, drawing her knees up and leaning her chin on them to keep her head above the water. He was nearly massaging her at this point and she felt like she could fall asleep like this.

Estinien pulled her into his lap, her back flush against his chest. He seemed to ignore the small spikes of her tail biting into his stomach. She shivered against him as her breasts were exposed above the water. She became more alert again when she felt a hand glide up around one of them. Of course, she couldn’t sleep just yet. This is what they both had been looking forward to.

She was aware of her short stature, but now with his hand covering her ample breast she felt downright tiny. It was as thrilling as she imagined. She let out a breathy sigh as his fingers teased the bud of her nipple. She felt his other hand move downward, brushing over the deep scar on her lower abdomen. She knew he must’ve seen it earlier. She expected he’d ask about it, and was a little surprised he hadn’t. It didn’t necessarily bother her to speak of it, but it did bring back memories of awful pain. His hand didn’t linger over the scar for long, and drifted lower still.

Another sigh left her lips when his long fingers met their destination between her thighs.

She squirmed slightly at the sensation his rubbing fingers sent through her. A moan escaped her throat and that seemed to encourage him quite a lot. She felt his erection growing beneath her, the length of it coming to rest against the cleft of her heated folds. He continued his motions. Her breathing became more erratic, and her moans more frequent. She never thought he’d bring her to the edge so quickly but she couldn’t hold back.

She couldn’t help but rock her hips into his massaging fingers, the motion also grinding against the erection between her legs.

Estinien pressed his lips to her shoulder, stifling a heated groan that went straight to Delphinium’s core. She climaxed with a shout that echoed embarrassingly through the large washroom. His fingers lingered a few moments longer as her spasms calmed. Then, he moved to grasp his length. He held her impossibly closer as he stroked himself to his own completion. If she hadn’t been so preoccupied with him breathing heavily in her ear, she would worry about her tail possibly drawing blood from his crushing embrace.

He finished with a grunt then finally loosened his hold. They both needed more.

“Bed, now,” Delphinium said.

They wasted no time. Drying just enough so as not to slip, he carried her easily to the bedroom. He all but tossed her onto the soft bed and immediately he was crawling over her, planting a trail of kisses along her thigh all the way up to her breasts. She moaned quietly as he mouthed at the perked nipple, her hands gripped his hair gently, urging him on. His tongue flicked over the bud, earning him a louder sound and a twitch. Satisfied, he continued his trail upward, finally capturing her lips for what seemed like the thousandth time that night.

Again, she allowed his tongue access, gasping against his lips while his thumbs firmly caressed her nipples. Her legs spread wider of their own accord and she was beginning to ache for him.

“Estinien,” she breathed. “I need you now.”

Without hesitation, Estinien sat back to hold her hips. He gently probed the tip of his erection at her entrance. She watched him eagerly, the difference in size wildly apparent. Neither had any idea if it would truly fit, but by the twelve, they weren’t about to stop now.

Their eyes met and she gave a quick nod. The tip plunged inside her not a moment later. She gasped out a moan and tangled her hands into the bedsheet as he slowly slid the rest of his length into her heat. He grunted out his own pleasured moan as it engulfed him. He paused, the only sound was their panting breaths. He gave her a minute to adjust to him. Then, at her nod, began a quick pace of thrusting. While it would’ve been lovely to take it slow, they both desperately needed this connection and release. There was no way he could hold himself back now.

Delphinium’s fervor matched his, a string of moans falling from her parted lips. She watched him with half lidded eyes, memorizing the way his muscles clenched with each movement.

Estinien carefully pulled her up into his lap. She let out another moan of pleasure as the new position pushed him deeper still. Her hands glided over him, feeling his chiseled body. She kissed his chest and held tight as he began to move once more. His thrusts were quickly growing desperate, she was nearing her limit as well. His passionate, breathy, moans were right in her ear again. Her own sounds had gone up an octave. With a few more thrusts, she was pushed again over the edge into that wonderful, white hot pleasure. Moments later she felt him pulsating within her, filling her to the brim with his seed.

Panting, he stroked her freckled cheek and realization settled in. She saw the streak of panic in his eyes and gently shook her head.

“I can’t,” she whispered, leaning her forehead against his.

His mind flashed back to the scar he’d felt on her stomach and he relaxed, understanding.

They held each other close as they caught their breath, and the high passed. Gently, he laid her on the bed and disappeared for a moment.

Delphinium was already beginning to let sleep take her when he returned. She startled slightly when the warm, wet cloth touched her, but once she understood she allowed herself to fall into her slumber.

Estinien cleaned them carefully. While typically he wouldn’t bother, he remembered how much Delphinium hated to feel sticky. He would do anything for her. He would die for her. Of course, he’d try very hard to never let it come to that.

He settled them under the blankets and watched the sun slowly light up the room.

[becca-e-barnes]

Hey lovely! I love your work so much honestly you’re absolutely amazing! I was just wondering if you’d ever write anything for sbf!bucky again? I re read your work about him all the time and I’m a little bit of a whore for him 😅 no pressure whatsoever, it’s just that sweet baby has my heart 🥺

Sbf!Bucky has been really heavily requested recently and now I feel like I've been neglecting him 😩 I really enjoy writing him and it lets me dabble in my dream of being a milf some day

But I feel like he has a real sweet tooth. He's a dessert guy, 110%. Not like your husband or your son.

From the very first Sunday that your son brought Bucky over for dinner, he's been so into your desserts because a good dessert is something he's really missed during his last couple of years at college. It doesn't even really matter what you make, every week he tells you it's even better than whatever you made the Sunday before.

The store bought, dry cakes he sometimes treats himself to don't even come close to the fluffy sponges you make for him. He tells you your lemon meringue is better than the one his aunt used to make and your pies are probably a cure for sadness. He exaggerates but at least he sounds sincere.

And it's nice. It's nice that he appreciates your effort. It's nice that your desserts actually get eaten and enjoyed. It's nice that you're not sitting at the dinner table alone after lunch. Company is nice. Compliments are nice.

"I know it's late but I don't want you to think I'd forgotten." You made yourself busy in the kitchen, talking a little louder so Bucky could still hear you in the dining room. He usually helped you plate up dessert but not today.

"What are you talking about?" Bless him, he sounded so confused. "I can give you a hand if you like?"

"No, it's okay. Close your eyes." You thought your instruction was clear enough but Bucky still protested.

"Just close your eyes, Buck." You could've sworn you felt him raise his eyebrows but he did as he was told anyway.

You set the plate in front of him and laid a little dessert fork above his placemat. "I know your birthday was last Tuesday but I thought we could still celebrate it today. You're only 24 once." Bucky opened his eyes to the most mouth watering slice of chocolate cake he swore he'd ever seen in his life.

Two thick layers of moist chocolate sponge with a rich chocolate icing in between. The cake must have been heated for a couple of minutes, making the icing warm enough to make the layers slide slightly. Thick, warm chocolate sauce rolled down the sides, taking with it a light dusting of powdered sugar, almost washing away the single lit birthday candle. The plate was decorated with a perfect scoop of cool vanilla ice cream and some fresh strawberries, left overnight in a teaspoonful of sugar to draw out their juice.

"You didn't need to make a whole cake just for me!" His genuine excitement was heartwarming, quickly blowing out his candle before wax melted onto his dessert.

"Sweetheart, I make a whole cake just for you every week. Happy birthday." You lifted the little dessert fork, slicing through the sponge with it, making sure to add a little ice cream and a slice of strawberry before raising it to his lips.

You could swear he actually moans when the cake passes his lips. He makes the same noise at dessert every Sunday and you swear you never get tired of hearing it. It's so close to the noise he makes when he first sinks inside you and God, that sound is beautiful.

Your foot grazes his leg, gently but deliberately and there's a battle going on behind those eyes when he takes the fork from his own mouth. On one hand, your husband is in the next room, sitting beside your son, Bucky's best friend. On the other hand, Bucky needs you to know how much he appreciates this. Appreciates you. And if he's honest with himself, your husband and son being so close has never stopped him before.

"Fuck, you've ruined me." He groans, pressing his lips to yours in a hurry. Somehow you manage to stifle your surprise, catching up when he presses you back onto the dining room table.

"You and those fucking desserts. It's not fair. You get me half hard during dinner and then you feed me the best chocolate cake I've ever had? Do you know how unfair that is?" His hands are all over you, pulling your skirt up in between frantic kisses.

The chocolate cake is all but forgotten, the ice-cream left to melt while Bucky kisses your neck before he tugs your panties off, tucking them into the back pocket of his jeans.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Summary; Yn is always taking care of the group, making sure they are hydrated, they've been eating enough and sleeping well.

Looking after everyone leaves barely any time for her own self-care. Eddie notices this and had to make sure his best girl gets the TLC she needs.

Warnings; fluff, bit of angst

Requested by @i-always-come-back-xoxo hope you enjoy

💞

As always yn was like the mother hen in the group. She loved to make sure her friends were comfortable and always made sure that they were eating right, staying hydrated and sleeping well.

She loved taking care of everyone and was always making snacks, keeping extra in her lunch in case someone forgot to bring something one day ( usually Max was the worst for this) and yn was always making sure that Max had snacks at hand.

Things had been tough for Max and anything she could do to help make the girl's life easier she would.

The only thing was in taking care of everybody else she would sometimes neglect herself in the process, she spent so much time worrying about her friends and not enough for herself.

Truthfully she was exhausted and had woken up this morning with a pounding headache and all the feelings of a cold.

She still went to school pushing through the aches and pains, hoping some fresh air would help with the cold. It would work right?

Wrong! No, she felt worse and by the time she reaches Hawkins high she kinda wished she stayed in bed.

💞💞

Eddie notices how quiet yn is and grows worried, she was a sweetheart and was always looking after the group.

She even looked after him, baking him treats to take home for him and his uncle Wayne, she always had extra lunch on hand and was constantly making sure that he was alright.

He wasn't used to someone caring so much about his well-being, except for Wayne. He liked it and over the months he had known her, he began to fall for her and he hadn't felt this way about anyone, he was smitten.

Something Henderson teased him relentlessly for.

So when he notices how withdrawn she is he immediately makes it his mission to cheer her up.

He heads over to her and frowns, she's shivering barely touching her food and she looks exhausted.

"Sweetheart? Are you alright?" She peers up half smiling.

"No, not really, I feel awful" it takes him all of two seconds to gently help her up.

"I'm driving you home," he tells her firmly and she makes a noise of protest and then gives in. Fuck, she really must be feeling shit if she has given in without a word.

"I need to make sure my best girl is feeling good okay" he tells her softly and the way she looks at him makes his heart skip a beat.

"Best girl?" her eyes light up and he can't resist placing a kiss on her head.

"I've not exactly been subtle about it princess, now come on. Let me take care of you for a change"

💞

Once she is at home Eddie practically orders her into bed, shes running a fever by this point but he ignores all of her protests to go.

"I don't want you to get sick Eds" he shrugs and gives her a huge glass of water and settles beside her.

"I don't give a shit about that babe, I'm going to make sure you are better then when you are we are going out to see a movie and go for milkshakes, whatever you want"

She perks up and feels her heart race.

"Like a date?"

"A date. Then I can make you mine like I've been dying to do for months now" he grins and she suddenly wishes this cold would go away so she could go on this date.

"You've had my heart since we first met sweetheart," he says as he holds her hand, if she wasn't sick then she would be doing a happy dance right about now.

"I feel the same way about you" his brown eyes warm at her confession and he smiles.

"I brought The Hobbit to read to you. Would you like that?" Listen to Eddie talk for hours? Do all the amazing character voices? Yes please.

"I'd love it" he pulls the book out of the bag he's carrying and then as he settles down he motions for her to cuddle into him which she does happily.

Then he begins to read to her and his voice is so soothing that she snuggles into him even more and falls into a peaceful sleep as she does she feels Eddie's lips press to her forehead.

"Sleep well my princess, I'll still be here when you get up" with that promise she falls asleep with a happy smile on her face.

💞

[digi-tama-in-your-pocket]

I woke up to Violetchi on my Pix Party, I hate that you gotta neglect your tama got get her, but I wanted her, and so I put my 2nd generation through the wringer. I didn't think much of this design when I first saw it, just another Sanrio wanna be I thought, but I think it grew on me a lot, especially after that episode of Let's Go Tamagotchi. All the more reason I wish the full anime was subbed, so I can better appreciate the cast of characters. Kinda like how the pokemon and digimon anime did the same for the source material of those as well.

And just now, Gyaoppi II evolved again, it's some kind of Cerapoda dinosaur. Not sure what I did differently, if anything, Again, i'm sensing there's a bit of randomness to the pet, But I do think i've kept up on it enough that it's not dying at least. So it's really redeemed itself, though it's still fragile. It gets sick a lot, but it makes a noise every time to let you know, so as long as it's near you, and paused when it's not, it should be fine.

Last update, Mametchi on the Tamagotchi Oiriginal is at 23 years old, and the Tamagotchi Wiki lists it's maximum lifespan as being 22 years, so i'm over here like:

Yeah I knew tehre'd be no way to keep it alive for insanely long like a Digimon 20th or a Gigapet but still, I love my boy, and I worked hard to get him. Will his life start draining away fast next time I get in the shower or go downstairs to eat? I did make liberal use of the pause trick while I was at work and before I went to sleep every night, so he could still have a few more days left in him. But ah, i'm not ready to say goodbye.

On the Digimon front... Tlilocmon is fine. I have no major updates, though I spent some time making more beaded charm straps for my other digimon v-pets. Wish I had more to say on this front but Digimon seem to have a lot less going on than Tamagotchi despite seeming to have more depth.

[babyjakes]

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | kinktober 2022

prompt | pegging

pairing | sub!lloyd hansen x top!reader

warnings | whiny!sub!lloyd >:-), top!reader, some mocking and degradation (from reader)

word count | 402

this one. i've been dreading it a little, lol. but honestly it could've gone in a few different directions. sweet!bottom jakey maybe, or we could've revisited poor baby bottom!bucky... but you know who i've honestly just been dying to write since his movie came out? the little shit who throws a tantrum and stomps in a fucking puddle, that's who, ❤️whiny!sub!lloyd, my beloved❤️ like don't you just wanna tie this man's hands behind his back, bend him the fuck over, strip him down to his baby blue boxers, and listen to his pretty little whimpers and pleas 😍 neither of you can tell if he's more excited or nervous, poor thing's got a little wet patch on his undies where he's already leaking precum, he just can't help it 🥺 you know the little bastard can't keep his mouth shut so in goes the ballgag, and you're humming, "look so pretty for me, baby. aww, you already drooling all over yourself, handsome? so needy, aren't you?" he's bucking his hips impatiently as you work your hand back over along his clenched cheeks. "ease up for me, baby. c'mon, i know what you need. let me take care of you" when the boxers are gone, fingers lubed up, words couldn't describe the ecstasy in his voice as you push two digits in. the little noises he's making through his gag are so sweet, so pathetic. "so ready for me, aren't you, honey? my my," you chuckle as you ease in a third. he's of course fucking himself back against your hand 😌 when you replace your fingers with the slick rubber tip of your strap, he's got tears in his eyes as he whimpers and whines. "fuck sweetheart," you grunt as you ease into him. "look at you, taking me so well. good fucking boy," he chokes on a sob as your hand reaches around to tease over his neglected cock. "poor little baby, not gonna last, are you?" it's pitiful how quickly he's brought to the edge by your steady thrusts and fingers ghosting over his length. angling yourself a bit deeper, you hit his most sensitive spot, ramming harder as his cries grow louder. hand falling from his dick, you make him rub his poor little hard-on against the sheets as you fuck him without mercy. "go ahead, little slut. cum all over yourself, make a fucking mess for me" 😌🫶

[dontfuckityoumuppettt]

I will make it up to you #1

-Listen Maddie.. I... can't go on like this... I need a moment to myself, some space, I have too much of everything on my mind from all sides, and now you .... Why can't you just support me?

Tears came to her eyes. "How can he insinuate that I don't support him?  I arrange my work schedule at my photography studio to fit him, lately I have been adjusting everything to him, not just work, I devote almost everything to him. I understand that he has a tour, concerts, commitments, but.... I would understand all of this if he showed me a little more understanding and lately I don't feel it. He got caught up in the whirlwind of work, and in the meantime he seems to have stopped thinking logically. That's how I've explained it to myself, but I can't do this anymore. I can't lose myself to keep him with me. " she thought to herself.

- Matty... Do you really not see how much I sacrifice for you? I understand and I know what your work is about, I don't blame you for that, but the problem is your attitude. You do not notice what I do for you,it has become a routine for you, I feel invisible - she said that quietly.

- Maddie.. What are you talking about? Please, speak bluntly what you mean, because I don't want to read between the lines, I'm too tired for that right now, I just said I wish you would support me more, my life has been crazy lately - Matty repiled numbly while walking over to open a window to light a cigarette. She followed him with her eyes from the end of the room.

-And don't you see that I am ? I have been for a year now all the time when you are exhausted, tired, pissed off.... I love you ... but lately I feel neglected - Maddie stared at him hoping for some kind of reaction.

Matty began to be annoyed, thoughts and calmness overwhelmed by nerves and stress took control of him. Again, he did not listen to what his loved one was saying to him. Through the excess of stress and stimuli, he was unable to. All the words and the whole monologue blended together into some kind of noises he couldn't focus on. He was so focused on what was going on in his head that he didn't even notice how he was ignoring her again.

- Matty... Are you even listening to what I'm saying ? - at this point she raised her voice.

That kinda woke him up and brought him back to earth. He closed the window and came up to her.

-Listen... sorry but I'm not mentally there right now for this kind of conversation can we talk later and I promise... - at this point Maddie couldn't stand it. The fears, anxiety and all those moments when she felt bad and didn't tell him won. She was not going to wait for Matty to decide what would be the right time to talk about what hurt her in his behavior.

-We can't Matty. Either now or you don't have to talk to me at all anymore - she looked at him straight in the eyes.

Matty is now present and focused on Maddie, still struggling to keep himself up while looking at her face, noticing how she refrains from crying. Now he sees. Now he has noticed. He curses himself in thought that only now.

- Honey I'm so sorry ..  I um... had too much on my mind and I...wasn't able to...because - he chaotically tries to explain himself desperately trying to find words that will help her, he starts to panic, he sees the helplessness in her and  the lack of reaction.

At the moment she doesn't feel like talking to him anymore. She is tired now too, Not in her right mind too.

- No, Ok Matty. I don't feel like talking to you anymore either. We should stop. You said you need space? I'll give it to you. We should take a break. - She turned around and started to get dressed.

He grabbed her hand, loosing his mind, trying to do anything he can to change whatever is happening, wishing he could go back in time and change some stuff.

- Darling I.. swear... it's not what you think.. I know that.. I know that I haven't had time lately.. and i just couldn't deal with it, I really wasn’t in my right mind lately... I should have been more attentive. I should have apprieciate you more, I’m sorry.. I  - this wasn’t enough for her. 

He realized that he didn't have the right words that would satisfy her right now and stopped for a moment. Looked at her again, he knelt down and said:

- I fucked up. I’m sorry. I really fucking am. Don’t leave me-  he was barely hanging on. 

His face broke her heart. All she wanted to do was say it's okay, I love you, don't worry and hug him, calm him down. But this time she needed it more.

She took her hand and walked towards the door. Matty ran to her and asked her desperately - What can I do to make it up to you darling I will do anything.. 

-I’m not going to tell you what to do. Do something yourself. I have to take care of myself now. 

He grabbed his head, looked in the mirror and hated himself now.

------ 

-This is probably kinda messy, Let me know what you think and if you would like me to write a part 2 !! Also, sorry for any mistakes. English is not my native language. 

[monochromaticwriting]

Eehh, sometimes you try to write on one of your WIPs, it doesn't work out, so you make the executive decision to temporarily abandon the fic because you can't stop getting overwhelmed by it. 👍 Enjoy this Isaac/Dracul fic instead! This takes place a while after my last Isaacul fic. (The wine one)

Dracul watched as Isaac gloated to the succubus from his throne. It was a far cry from the hurt, frazzled man that had fallen the worst way possible in the Castle. The poor man landed on a live circuit in Frankenstein's abandoned clocktower, getting burned on so much of his body.

Add that with the other injuries on the man, Dracul didn't think he'd survive. But with some salves and careful wrappings, the man was definitely feeling better, though still not fully healed. Dracul kept beside him and watched over every treatment. What else did he have to do? It's not like many intruders could get to him. The Castle was very good at its job.

Shaking his head, he turned back to the scene before him. He guessed Isaac was getting bored of his discussion with the Succubus, and instead turned to Dracul. Dracul willed his belt away and Isaac made himself very comfortable on Dracul's lap. The vampire knew better than to let this man get comfortable, this quickly with his. But Dracul had been alone for so long, and Isaac was clearly in need of the physical companionship as much as he was.

"- Are you even listening to me?" Isaac's voice startled him out of his thoughts.

"I apologize. I was distracted by a red head who decided my lap was the best place to sit." Dracul purrs out softly, placing his clawed hand on Isaac's hip. He felt Isaac shudder under his hand.

"I was talking about a new Innocent Devil!" Isaac said, sounding offended that Dracul hadn't heard him before. "I found what looks like a plan made for some mechanical beast in the clocktower," Dracul growls at that, Isaac pointedly ignores the growl, "and after some more looking, I found what looks like the half completed project! I had some Lycans move it down to the theatre so I could work on it."

Dracul sighs, "Isaac. I told you, you needed to rest. You are in no condition to be working on your little devils." He tried to come across as stern, but he melted when those yellow eyes looked up at him.

"I've rested enough! I need to do something, or I'll get rusty and won't be able to! What use will I be if I can't even produce a single minion for you to use?" Isaac seemed determined, but not by choice. It's more like he needed to prove himself to Dracul. It made the vampire wonder more about his past. Not that Dracul was much better, he was the one who worked tirelessly to make sure Isaac would live through his injuries. He was the one who sought out some form of acknowledgement for finally, finally actually saving someone, instead of being the cause of their untimely deaths.

Dracul was a stubborn man, but he saw himself in Isaac, so he gave in quickly. "Fine. You can work on this little devil of yours. But don't neglect yourself." That earned him a raised brow from the man. Oh, Dracul knew he was a hypocrite, but he was final say within these walls.

Instead, he leaned forward and blew a raspberry on Isaac's neck. This made the man let out a startled laugh. Oh how Dracul enjoyed that noise. He pulls away only to look up into Isaac's eyes. He felt scarred, calloused hands reach up and touch his face. Dracul gripped one of these hands and gently kissed the palm, then the wrist.

Maybe they could be lonely together.