#other than tremendously poor taste

[flowerandblood]

The Taste of Shame

[ dom!modern • Aemond x friend sister • female ]

[ warnings: mention of sex working, sexual tension ]

[ description: Aemond works as a professional dom, fulfilling the various fantasies of his female clients - however, he guards his privacy and does not enter into any relationships with them, recognizing that he does not want or need it. It turns out that what he wants and what he doesn't no longer matter when he meets his friend's younger sister for the first time. Slow burn, sexual tension, doubts related to sex work. ]

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Until he met Criston and Robert at university he was a total loner, really only going to classes and shopping. Ever since he moved out of his family home, he didn't feel the need to interact with anyone except his mother and his youngest brother.

Nonetheless, once their quantum physics professor selected them as a group to tackle a joint project in his class, it turned out that they got along very well.

He was quiet and withdrawn, best at solving equations and finding the correct formulae; Robert threw interesting, chaotic insights and ideas from his sleeve, and Criston pulled it all together to form a whole.

They scored the highest possible grade and from then on they naturally stuck together; Robert and Criston didn't seem to mind that he usually didn't contribute to their discussions, simply allowing him to be in their company with a cardboard cup of coffee from the vending machine.

They often asked him where he got his money from, since, according to him, his parents did not help him financially to live in a completely different city. He usually answered evasively, feeling a squeeze in his throat in those moments, a fear that one day they would somehow find out how he made his living.

What he was doing.

That women paid him to tie them up, to beat them, to slap them, to degrade and humiliate them, to fuck them in ways he wouldn't even be able to explain, taking unspeakable satisfaction from it.

He was a professional; he signed contracts that included each party's boundary and safety words. He expected his clients to have medical examinations to make sure they didn't carry any diseases, but he used condoms anyway.

He rented a bedsit intended as a meeting place, with no intention of hosting anyone in his flat; his main rule was not to get emotionally involved, apart from having sex and entitling himself that his client was comfortable, he did not get into any conversations with them even though they tried to do so.

It started with one woman, Alys, who he met when he graduated from high school; it turned her on when he tied her up, when he fucked her while telling her she was a nobody, when he punished her and it shocked him what a tremendous sense of power it gave him.

She told him admiringly that he could be a professional dom and earn a lot from it, which gave him pause for thought. To her despair, he ended their relationship shortly after he started doing it for money, recognising that he didn't want to break his rule about not having a relationship, where she already knew far too much about him.

He was more careful with others.

They called him sir and knew nothing about him except what they read on the website.

He admired in a way how desperate some of them were, how much they were balancing on the edge of overdoing it; in a few cases he had to check their pulse to make sure he hadn't killed them.

His clients were not poor women and sometimes, for extra things or to show him their admiration, they paid him more than what they had agreed for; however, he never accepted excess money, knowing that if he broke the rules they would think they could expect more from him, which he was unwilling to allow.

So, for obvious reasons, he kept his profession to himself, fearing that if his friends found out about it they would think he was just fucked up. He genuinely liked them, as well as the field of study he was attending, and didn't want to change anything in his life.

When Robert invited him and Criston to his house for his birthday he agreed immediately, seeing no obstacles to celebrating with him; he knew that apart from him and Criston there would be a few more friends from his neighbourhood and he was fine with that.

When he got his car into his driveway he decided to have a smoke before going inside, tired after a long, intense session with his female client, wanting to clear his mind.

That's when he heard her for the first time.

"Are you Robert's friend?!"

He looked over his shoulder and saw her − she had jumped off the blue slim bike with the white basket in the front. Her hair was loose and in a slight disarray due to the wind, her face pink from exertion, her full lips parted slightly in a quickened breath, her large eyes shining with curiosity.

He felt everything he saw in his cock, looking at her pale, with his eyes imagining her moaning beneath him with that pleading, sweet voice to keep fucking her.

"− yeah −" He hummed in a slightly trembling voice, taking a deep drag on his cigarette, trying to hide what was happening to him, in what direction to his horror his thoughts had fled.

"That's wonderful! I'm Robert's sister. I forgot to buy candles for his cake, which was rather unfortunate considering it's his birthday and I had to go quickly to get them." She said breathing heavily as she walked with her bicycles deeper into the driveway, looking at him expectantly over her shoulder. "Do you have a lighter?"

He couldn't play the idiot and pretend he didn't have one, so, as she requested, they went around her house and walked inside from the terrace, walking quietly to the kitchen − he could hear the voices of Robert, Criston and the other guests in the distance.

She opened the fridge, which illuminated her pleasant, smiling face with a bright, bluish light, and slowly pulled out a meringue cake with a cucumber glaze decorated with berries.

"It looked better in the picture on the internet, but I was making it for the first time. Can you help me?" She asked lightly, pulling candles from the pocket of her dress.

He just nodded, feeling his mind working in slow motion, his heart pounding like mad, his mind focused on her body and on her scent, some sweet, girly fruity perfume.

He thought, swallowing loudly, that she was like a ripe peach or strawberry, begging to be bitten into, to taste its flesh.

He pressed his lips together, sticking the last candle into the crisp texture of the meringue, thinking with despair that he was a disgusting man, that she was his friend's younger sister.

And above all, she was not his client.

He handed her a lighter; their faces lit up by the warm glow of the fire as she began to light the candles one by one. She smiled at him when she finished in a way that made him feel like saying he didn't give a shit about the candles, the cake and Robert's birthday − just to pull her panties off her legs and fuck her on the countertop.

"Let's go." She said warmly and he nodded, letting out the air from his lungs, watching her with a look that, had it not been for the darkness in the room, would surely have terrified her.

They walked into the living room; his sister began to sing a Happy Birthday loudly and the other guests joined her in chorus, Robert stood up embarrassed but clearly pleased. After a round of applause, he walked over to them and blew out the candles, saying happily that his little sister remembered how he loved the meringues and hugged her.

He lowered his gaze at the thought that they were close.

That he needed to pull himself together.

When Robert offered him a drink he immediately agreed, distraught and terrified at the thought of spending the whole evening in her company; she walked around the room with a smile, talking to everyone lightly as if she had known them for years.

At the same time, he craved and feared that she would eventually sit down next to him, noticing his distancing and tiredness and walked out into the garden, sitting down on a bench, lighting a cigarette.

He closed his eyes as he heard someone's footsteps and for some reason he knew, subconsciously felt, that it was her.

He smelled her scent as she sat down next to him with a quiet creak of old wood and slowly opened his eyelids, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

She was holding her drink, probably vodka with orange juice and mango, for some reason it seemed obvious to him that she only liked alcohol if it was sweet.

"Beautiful evening." She said warmly, softly, her gaze slightly dreamy, gazing up at the cloudless, starry sky, her body as if spilling over the backrest of the bench, her head lying comfortably on it, framed by her shiny hair.

He thought with embarrassment that he couldn't cause her pain even if she begged him to.

Though maybe he could slap her buttock a time or two before sinking his face between her thighs, leaving the red mark of his hand on her skin.

He swallowed loudly, taking another drag on his cigarette, looking ahead, feeling the heat in his lower abdomen, the arousal he knew so well, his manhood twitched in his trousers.

He didn't answer.

After a moment, however, Criston came out to them, chatting them up, making him feel relieved, feeling like he was going to go mad because of her presence.

He left the party faster than he wanted to; Robert tried to stop him by saying that he could spend the night at his house, but he refused, terrified by this vision, knowing that he wouldn't last, that he would go to her room.

That one word from her would be enough to make him fuck her and regret it for the rest of his life.

He would leave her with nothing afterwards.

She seemed like a good, nice girl, deserving of a decent man who wouldn't think about tying her up.

As he drove home in his car he breathed out loud, somehow proud of himself, knowing that he had done the right thing, that maybe he wasn't as bad a person as he thought he was.

He fought with himself not to look for her on social media, and although he himself had accounts under pseudonyms with black squares in place of profile pictures, knowing that she was Robert's sister, finding her was too easy for him to resist.

So, in despair, he spent the evening giving up, recognising that if someone publishes something on the internet it means they agree to let others look at it. He swallowed loudly, surprised to see a new notification on Facebook and it was nothing other than an invitation from her.

He felt the cold sweat on his back and the quick, hard pounding of his heart, as if he was about to defuse a ticking bomb.

Accept?

Reject?

Do nothing?

He stared at his screen with his lips clenched and involuntarily clicked accept.

Fuck.

He ran his hand over his face, knowing it wasn't the best idea, but that if he removed her quickly from his friends now she'd still get a notification that he'd accepted her before and it would be weird to say the least.

He figured that she had surely only added him because he was a friend of her brother's and she had no intention of doing anything more with it.

He almost choked on his tea when he saw that she had sent him a message.

He stared at the chat bubble and clenched his eyes, clicking on it, unfolding the conversation, recognising that he wouldn't fall asleep if he didn't see what she had written to him.

He looked at her message with a fast-beating heart, reading it several times, swallowing quietly with a sense of some kind of relief that it had no subtext. It made him feel warm at the thought that, in essence, what she had written was kind and affectionate, expressing only her innocent concern and gratitude.

He figured he could write her back without any remorse that he was doing something wrong, for some reason feeling excited about talking to her.

He wrote back and sighed heavily, recognising that his reply was terribly dry and distant, but then thought that perhaps it was better. He twisted restlessly in his seat looking expectantly at his screen when he saw that after a moment she had displayed his message.

He involuntarily smiled reading it and thought she was sweet.

Over the next few days, he involuntarily returned to that brief exchange of words, thinking only of the fact that he wanted to somehow strike up a conversation with her again, although he didn't know how to do so.

"What are you thinking about, buddy?" Robert asked him with amusement, slapping him on the back with a friendly, masculine hand gesture; he swallowed loudly, pulled out of his reverie, looking at him with wide eyes.

"Nothing."

One of his clients had expressed a desire to meet again after their last session, wanting a more intense experience this time. Looking at her message, he ran his hand over his face, for some reason feeling doubts surging into his mind, though he didn't know what they stemmed from.

What would she think of him if she found out?

During the meeting with his client he had given her everything she wanted, but there had been no intimacy with penetration between them and he had satisfied her only with his hand.

He felt for some reason distanced from what he was doing, as if his thoughts were somewhere else entirely.

He imagined that if it had been her lying in front of him he would have done it differently, that he would have brought her to the edge of despair, but he would have had more understanding and patience, he would have been tender to her.

Why?

When it was all over and the woman had left he cleaned everything, threw the old bedding in the washing machine and put on the fresh one, so that it would be ready when he returned there.

He left and locked the flat, then ran down the staircase and headed for the car park across the street.

"Aemond!" He heard a happy, girlish, warm voice, her voice; he turned over his shoulder, terrified, for some unexplained reason certain that she had caught him in the act, even though they were standing in the middle of the street.

She jumped off her bike halfway down the road, grabbed the handlebars and ran over to him, a shopping bag in her basket, a cute fabric clasp backpack on her shoulders.

She was dressed in dark, long high-waisted trousers, pleasantly emphasising her waist and a short-sleeved T-shirt, her hair tied up in a braid that was partly blown by the wind.

She stood in front of him smiling broadly, in the light of the sun her face seemed even more gentle and soft to him, although she appeared to him to be nothing more than a figment of his imagination, so he merely stood and looked at her with his mouth slightly parted.

"Where are you going?" She asked lightly, her eyes shining with an innocent, childlike curiosity from which he felt a tightening in his throat; he thought she literally beamed with a kind of warmth from which his whole body shuddered.

He licked his lower lip quickly, swallowing loudly as he tried to get any meaningful sentence out.

"I'm just getting home." He said in a low, cool, distant voice, having no idea why he sounded that way − he had the feeling that his whole body was somehow trying to prevent what was just happening to him. She blinked, cocking her head as if she was expecting the rest of his statement, though he wasn't planning one.

"I…I had my business to take care of. And you?" He changed the subject quickly wanting to distract her from himself − she smiled even wider, shifting from foot to foot.

He noticed the outline of her breasts under her T-shirt proving she had no bra underneath and looked away, horrified and aroused by this discovery.

Fuck.

If she was his, he'd show her what he thought of it.

He squeezed his eyes shut wondering what he was even thinking about when the last thing he was looking for was a relationship.

"I'm just going to a lecture by my favourite professor in the history of philosophy. Want to join me? Entry is free!" She said clearly excited by her own idea and proposal, and he swallowed loudly, looking at her in disbelief, analysing quickly what she had said, whether he should do it.

He had no commitments, his whole evening was free.

He hummed under his breath, putting his hands in the pockets of his black trousers.

"How far is it from here?" He asked hesitantly, and she waved her hand.

"The lecture will be held at the Community Centre, two streets away. Five minutes' walk."

He looked at her, at her pretty, overjoyed face, and gave in.

"Why not."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Flowers [K. B]

Kaz Brekker x reader

word count: 8.4k

summary: some jealousy motivates Kaz to finally face how he feels about you

A/N: I have literally weeks writing this and I hope I got it right, I tried to write the reaction of jealousy as appropriate to Kaz as possible lmao. Also, when this Freddy photoshoot came out I just imagined. You'll find out later, I hope you enjoy it!

taglist: @rustyyyyspoonz @be-lla-vie @milkshake0 @ladespedidas

Kaz took a deep breath before opening the door, bracing himself for what he would face as he crossed into the next room, already a tremendous hubbub.

It was Inej's birthday and you had insisted on throwing her a celebration, something everyone else was excited about, because you thought that of all of you she was the most likely not to have had such a party. Well, actually the main candidate was Kaz but he would kill all of you when he found out that you had arranged a surprise for him.

You had decorated the room in The Slat and you had invited (threatened, rather) the members of The Dregs so that they would celebrate your friend and you also invited (to them, kindly) some girls from The Menagerie, with the security that if someone tried to touch them you would defend them. You also told the criminals that if they thought of bringing a gift they would make sure that it was not stolen, nor was it stained with blood, nor was it from the corpse of a dead person. And so far everything was perfect.

"Kaz!" he was greeted by Per Haskell, who had been playing cards at a table and already had a couple of drinks on him "Son, I admit that when you said you wanted to have a party I thought you were crazy, but this is great."

"Y/N wanted to do it, I didn't" he murmured sincerely and Per just laughed. Parties weren't really his thing, though he'd probably feel better after some alcohol. He looked for his usual group to get closer to them and not die from the anxiety that social situations generated in him.

He found five of his crows chatting and laughing at a table on which was an empty chair, which Kaz thought was surely for him.

"Look who decided to join the party" Nina mocked, looking at the black-haired boy with a smile.

"Happy birthday, Inej" he murmured politely, as he handed the girl a leather case containing a nice set of knives. Her eyes lit up as she thanked her friend and Kaz allowed himself to smile "Is anyone sitting here?"

"Y/N" replied Jesper, who had an arm around Wylan's shoulders "But she's been missing for a while."

"Maybe she's helping out in the kitchen," suggested Matthias, who was feeling more relaxed than usual.

"Huh-uh" Wylan denied, with a mischievous smile, while he took a sip of his drink "Look there" he exclaimed and his head pointed surreptitiously in one direction.

All eyes at the table looked at you at the bar and Kaz, who hadn't seen you before, was surprised by how jovial you looked. You had left your hair loose and you were wearing light-colored clothing, very different from the usual black, gray, or brown, along with ribbon adorning your hair, but the smile that this generated in the black-haired man was replaced by a frown upon noticing that you were smiling broadly towards another person. Towards a man.

"That girl is on fire" the Grisha mocked, quite proud, and the others made similar comments, between laughs.

"Who is that?" Kaz hissed, sounding angrier than he intended, at Inej, who was closest to him and most likely to know the answer due to your friendship.

“A new guy that Per hired, I thought you knew him. I heard that he comes from Shu Han”

At that moment he turned around and he could see the features that demonstrated that theory: tanned skin, slightly slanted eyes, and black hair. He wore a simple outfit, in very poor taste according to Kaz, and he couldn't have been more than 17 years old. He was just a brat who was too close to you.

Although he didn't say anything, you only needed to see the expression on his face to know that he wasn't happy, something that fortunately no one paid attention to, because they assumed that it was just a normal reaction in Kaz when seeing any kind of displays of affection.

"He's handsome," Jesper muttered, and Wylan turned to give him a pointed glare. "I mean, not like you, nobody's as handsome as you, but he… got his stuff."

Was he really handsome? Kaz didn't know if he was in a position to judge that, since he didn't even know if he was what someone would consider 'attractive'. That had never bothered him, of course, he was simply curious as to what the others might think. What could you think about, actually.

Most of them decided that the matter didn't deserve any more importance and they continued talking about other things, almost all of them logically related to Inej, however, he couldn't take his eyes off you and your peculiar company for even a second. He noticed you chuckled softly and when you did, he could see the guy across from you reach out to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear; Kaz squeezed his cane to appease the urge to go do the same to the aforementioned neck.

Almost as if you felt the heavy gaze you looked in his direction and when your eyes met you smiled reflexively, making his heart race. You still chatted for a while, but your attention wasn't entirely on your new friend now that you were aware of Kaz in the great room. In due course you apologized to him and before saying goodbye he stroked your arm too confidently, promising that he would make sure to look for you later. After he left you practically ran to the table where your friends were.

"Y/N" Inej laughed, feeling you hug her from behind.

“How is the most beautiful birthday girl in the place doing?” you asked excitedly, kissing her on the top of the head and hearing her reply that everything was excellent “Oh, hello, Mr. Brekker. What a joy that you honor us with your presence” you joked as if you had barely noticed, and you were disappointed to see the unfriendly look he gave you.

“Who was the young man you were talking to?” Nina asked casually, while her boyfriend shook his head at how gossipy she was sometimes.

"Lior?" you muttered. So that was the name that should be written on the tombstone "It's huh... a new guy, he was thanking me for inviting him"

“I hope he doesn't get used to it,” Kaz said grudgingly. “Don't think there will be any more birthday parties. Much less with all these Dregs”

A collective groan was heard, alleging that the boss was very bitter and appealing to 'healthy coexistence', which amused you.

"That was my chair, shall I sit on your lap or shall we bring a new one?" you exclaimed, close to the man's ear. Kaz didn't expect that and it was obvious you didn't mean it, but he had to abruptly get up from his chair and walk away, leaving all of you stunned.

"What did you say to him?"

"Nothing! I just told him that I was sitting there, but I was kidding, I didn't want him to leave”

“That's how he is,” Inej said, with a touch of bitterness and a shrug. But you didn't take that so lightly, you hated that Kaz was mad at you because he made you feel so guilty, even if you didn't know what he was mad at. Maybe you had crossed some line? You weren't even going to! It had only been nonsense that had escaped your lips for the liquid value that you had ingested.

You ended up taking the chair that he had left empty and although you participated actively in the conversation you couldn't help but feel restless. Of course you didn't know that Kaz had left there to prevent you from noticing his cheeks flushed with fury at the scene he had seen and the way you had said the name of this Lior guy, a blush that only increased when he felt your breath so close to his skin and hear your soft voice.

First he had to calm down, why had that bothered him in the first place? Although he was aware of a certain protective relationship that he had towards all of you, it was not normal to feel that anger when you were talking to someone else, or when another man was touching you. Jesper was constantly holding your hand, once he had found you and Wylan cuddled up sleeping on a couch and you always challenged Matthias to fights you knew you weren't going to win and he just laughed it off, making no effort. But that was different, he had touched you… with other intentions. Kaz was no fool and he knew better than anyone that you were beautiful in every way, no matter how hard he tried to deny it. He maybe couldn't appreciate the masculine beauty, but, although it was not in his total interest, he could judge the feminine. So he was mad because a guy was interested in you? Was that what explained the heat that grew in his chest and that now he himself was torturing him? But why?

“Kaz Brekker?” said a voice behind him. He had gone outside to get some air and didn't recognize who had called him until he turned around. Today was his damn lucky day "My name is Lior, Per said that you are like the boss"

"I'm not like the boss" Kaz replied with total contempt "I'm the boss"

"Huh, yeah, sure. I'm sorry. I just wanted to introduce myself” Kaz looked at him without saying anything, obviously trying to make the other understand that he had no interest in meeting him, and the boy took the opportunity to clear his throat before speaking again “And… ask you if… a girl I was talking to is from your team. She mentioned you before, her name is Y/N”

Kaz didn't know what that Lior had in mind to go and ask him such a thing, but for a moment he believed in the Saints and thanked them for making him so stupid.

"And what does that interest you, silly boy?" he muttered. Lior was probably the same age as Kaz, but the black-haired man had the advantage of being a few inches taller, of having an imposing presence leaning on his cane, and of… well, being the fucking boss.

"In nothing, I just thought I'd ask you" replied Lior, visibly dismayed by the unexpected hostility of his new leader, and mistakenly thinking that he would fix something, he continued: "She's very kind and I wanted to get to know her better, I thought you could help me”

“You're here to steal, spy and obey orders, you're not here to meet girls, let alone someone like her. So I recommend you keep your distance and focus on the job, which is why we hired you”

To say that Lior was terrified was an understatement, even though the opponent had held back a bit. For a moment he thought that Kaz took his job very, very seriously (it was partly true) so that's why he had been so annoyed at the suggestion of him looking for one of his close friends. He never knew that he was mad to hear that someone so vulgar wanted to befriend his Y/N.

"Kaz!" for a second he thought he was imagining your voice, but when you appeared a few seconds later he knew it wasn't like that "I was looking for you, you... Lior" you interrupted yourself, looking at the other young man who had paled a little "I see that you are already met"

"Yes, we already had the fortune" he answered with all the sarcasm existing in his body, although you didn't notice it.

"I was leaving, anyway"

“Wait, have this,” you said, handing the boy a piece of paper “It's a restaurant, Nina and I go there for breakfast all the time. If you ever want to join us, just say so” Your tone was so kind and your face so happy that Kaz was afraid he would start foaming at the mouth.

"Yes, I..." Lior didn't dare look at Kaz, who was watching him with murderous eyes "I'll think about it, bye"

"Bye," you replied, a little disappointed by his lack of effusiveness.

"You really want to make new friends," he snorted with inevitable scorn.

“Well yeah, my old friends run away from me,” you muttered, keeping your tone playful no matter how upset he was. Then you sighed and got a little more serious, “Listen, I know you hate parties and people, but I would really appreciate it if you were with us at the table. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, but I did this to have a fun time and to make Inej happy. There is alcohol inside, if you don't like it, I can find you something better to prepare the drink you prefer but, please, stay even for a while"

His frown on him relaxed considerably as he watched your pleading eyes looking down at him but the unknown feeling towards the new guy grew like flames consuming an entire forest. You had told him where you used to go for breakfast, which meant you wanted to see him again.

“Only if you promise not to go out with that idiot” 

“With Lior? And why shouldn't I?

"I already told you. He's an idiot" he said simply and you laughed.

"And how do you know?"

"He looks like one"

"You're going to need a better reason than that and probably a bouquet to convince me otherwise," you muttered, totally sure that the latter was so ridiculous that it would only prove that you weren't going to change your mind. Lior wasn't the most handsome guy for you, that place was reserved for someone special, but you had decided that giving him a chance wasn't such a bad idea “Come on, don't be grumpy, and let's go in there. I got a cake and you don't want to miss it,” you said, starting to walk back inside, and after sighing Kaz followed you without question.

Once morning came the birthday cheer was gone and things went on as usual; going to the Crow club, keeping order at The Barrel, odd jobs, and a couple of unfortunate fights.

In the span of a week you had already seen Lior at least three times, and he always seemed to be conveniently close to various places you frequented. Being with him was nice and little by little you were getting used to his company, the only thing that seemed too strange to you was that every time Kaz appeared in the same place as you he said goodbye and left immediately before your boss could see it. You assumed he was just afraid of him, like most people, and you didn't say anything.

Suddenly you began to think that you had hardly seen the man in those days and you wondered if he was attending to your basic needs since you had hardly seen him go to the kitchen of the place for the food that you prepared. Sometimes loaves of bread would disappear, but that was Fahey's trademark.

"You are listening?" asked Lior, who was in front of you at a betting table and had brought you out of your musings. You were taking a break at the club and again he was hanging around so you thought about having a drink but right now you only remembered the beginning of what he had been saying to you so you couldn't lie to him even if you wanted to. You just smiled embarrassedly in response, making him laugh. "Too much to think about?"

"No, none of that. I was only gone for a moment"

"Well," he started to say, with what you'd already recognized as a flirtatious smile, "I hope I can find you when that happens."

You were going to answer something when you heard a fight near you. A couple of drunks had a disagreement over who had won the game and they thought the most effective way to settle it was beating. You quickly got up from your chair to separate them and had to dodge the fists several times, having no luck a couple of times. Lior was about to jump in to help you when suddenly one of the men fell to the ground with a thud. Everyone in the room looked in the direction of whoever had knocked him down and there was the only logical option.

"If you guys want to beat up each other like animals, do it outside my establishment," was all Kaz said. You were still holding the other man back, but he didn't put up much of a fight when he and his friend were escorted outside. You shook off your jacket and rubbed your arm where one of them had managed to hit you.

This time Lior couldn't escape the boss's eyes and Kaz felt his blood boil again at the sight of his face. He still didn't fully understand the nature of his feelings, but it was clear to him that he didn't want you near that boy after a couple of days when you no longer stopped by to say hello in his office or struck up a conversation with him. Although, indeed, he was never the most sociable now he wanted to make an effort to spend more time with you, but he had difficulties finding ways to do it.

"Damn drunks, huh?"

“Did they hurt you?" he asked quietly. You looked up in confusion and took a moment to process it. Was Kaz worrying about you?

I mean, he cared for all of you during missions and times of real danger, but on those occasions he just saw to it that you stayed alive and continued his duties. It was weird hearing something verbal.

"Nothing I can't handle," you replied, with a challenging little smile.

“I want you to help me with some things. Unless you're busy…”

Saying this he looked at the skinny boy behind you, who looked away immediately. If there was one thing to be recognized about Kaz, it was how he never showed fragility and therefore forced others to surrender first.

"It's that urgent?"

"So I would say"

Now it was you who held his gaze for a few seconds, looking for something implicit that would reveal why he now wanted to take you to another place, but there was nothing. There was only neutrality in those beautiful blue eyes.

“Lior, I have to go. Some work" you exclaimed and he internally celebrated the apparent victory that you had chosen him over someone else, although the satisfaction was short-lived when he saw that you took a step and planted a kiss on the boy's cheek.

Kaz thought about how he wasn't mad at you, but at him, and it suddenly dawned on him that he was actually jealous. That was what he was feeling like a plague.

Jealousy.

You noticed the radical change in his attitude when he didn't even look at you and began to walk quickly down the hall, so you had to speed up to keep up with him. Worst of all, he didn't really have anything he needed help with, he'd just said it so you wouldn't be with the Shu boy, so when you set foot in the office he was stunned.

“I want you to help me sort these documents by date,” he said, extending in your direction a huge folder that he found in a drawer that only contained papers from the previous year. It was not necessary to order that because he had already used it, but he preferred to ask you that than look completely dumb. 

"And the magic words?"

"Abracadabra?" he said sarcastically, but he sighed heavily at the sight of your crossed arms and your clear intentions of not taking the folder until he said so "Please, Y/N"

“Do you see how cute you sound being a polite child?” you exclaimed to annoy him and before another complaint you took the things and placed yourself in an empty end of the desk.

Kaz watched you from time to time, intent on your task, your lips slightly pouting, and each time he did he felt his heart swell. 

What was happening to him? he was afraid that he would find out and not like the answer.

You finished in record time and he let you off to wherever you wanted to go through the door, a little worried that it was with the new kid. As soon as you left he took his hat, coat, and cane to go directly to The Slat, hoping that the person he needed was there.

He knocked on the door a couple of times, but no one answered and for a moment he felt desperate. He badly needed the help of the one person he knew who wouldn't judge him for asking obvious questions and also had enough discretion so that others wouldn't realize he suspected he had feelings for you. He suspected. 

He was going to make one last attempt which wasn't necessary as the door swung open as he raised his fist, revealing a small figure with loose hair and less weaponry than usual.

“Kaz?”

"Hello, Inej"

You were sitting in the dining room of your shared house, pouring yourself some coffee in a chipped cup hoping it was strong enough to wake you up, while you racked your brains trying to solve the mystery that had been bothering you for a few days ago. 

Turns out, after the drunken brawl incident and helping Kaz, you had gone to rest, falling asleep on the bed almost immediately. No problem with that. The strange thing was that the next day you had woken up with a bouquet of wildflowers of various colors resting on the nightstand. The first time you thought that you had put it there and you didn’t remember it, so you just sniffed it with pleasure and placed it in a glass of water. Normal day, you went to sleep at the end and the next morning there it was again. You knew that it was not the one you had collected the day before because these were in the glass. A little confused, you put the new flowers with the old ones and continued with your day, without imagining that the next morning things would repeat themselves. Three times in a row was already disturbing, so you made an effort to imagine who was the author of all this. If it was the girls, it was nice that they had such detail, and you could have even tolerated it from Jes, Wylan, or Matthias, but if it was an outsider then it was a worrying situation because it implied that a lunatic had been messing around to your room at night for a week straight. You made sure to lock your room and still, the flowers appeared there, as if it were a magic trick.

Was it Lior? Impossible, or you would have seen him come in in the morning or at night. Also, one day you had woken up earlier than usual and even that time the flowers were there.

"Bonjour" greeted an energetic Jesper, who had appeared still in nightwear, and ruffled your hair as he approached you "You don't look very lively"

"I am not a morning person," you said sipping your coffee.

One by one your other companions joined the morning coffee, Kaz being the last to arrive. It was funny how much 'morning drinks' could say about each of you: Inej drank coffee with some sugar, Jesper coffee with cream, Wylan drank tea, Matthias just milk, Nina hot chocolate and lastly you and Kaz shared a taste for the coffee bitter and very hot, so it was not a surprise that when he arrived you already had a cup for him.

“We're running low on supplies,” Matthias announced, pointing to the empty cupboard, to which you groaned.

None of you had any culinary skills, but since you were the least likely to give them food poisoning, they had all decided that you would be the designated cook, which included doing the shopping.

"I'll go to the market later"

“I will accompany you,” Kaz said, so fast that they all fell silent and turned their heads to look at him. Observing the situation, he adopted a defensive attitude "I need to buy some things too and I have to make sure Y/N isn't wasting money"

“Sure, my specialty is diverting resources by saying I bought potatoes,” you joked, rolling your eyes. “If you want to go with me, let's go now. At this time there are fewer people" you explained and he nodded. You just finished drinking your coffee and grabbed a large bag in which you loaded the food before leaving the building.

As soon as you got out, they started speculating.

"Why did Kaz want to go?"

"I wonder the same thing"

“Maybe he really did have things to buy,” Matthias said, and though Nina heard her black-haired man's racing heart, she decided not to contradict anyone. Inej looked at her almost as if she read her thoughts and they both shared a knowing look without saying anything.

On the way to the market, neither of you spoke, but he noted that you were right when you said that the city was quieter at that time, probably because life in The Barrel really began when night fell.

The market was quite a distance away, but he put up with it like a champ, so when you got there you were very hungry and you assumed he was the same.

“Eat,” you said suddenly, extending to Kaz a piece of bread with jam inside that you loved to buy when you went there “I pay for this with my own money, by the way. So you don't accuse me of being a thief."

"You are a thief," he reminded you, grimacing and taking a bite of the piece of food. It was sweet, freshly made, and melted in the mouth.

You two walked for a couple of blocks, still in silence, while you were choosing food. You were wondering what those 'things' were that Kaz needed to buy and when he would ask you to make a detour to a store, but the moment didn’t seem to come, which made you suspect that there was really no such reason and it was just an excuse. You were curious as to what he might be looking for by doing that and you let your mind wander to possible answers, from when he was looking for advice he didn't yet know how to ask to when he just needed some fresh air and jumped at the chance, without you being involved in any way.

Kaz, for his part, was entering a crisis. He wanted to talk to you and have a nice time but he didn't know how to do it. He had thought that, once you were alone, the words would sprout by themselves and then you would continue the conversation, however, he had limited himself to watching you feel the fruits to decide which was ripe and which was not.

“Do you think she really likes that boy?”

“I don't know” Inej had told him “But I don't think that's the case either” she continued and her friend nodded his head “I think what she likes about him is that he listens to her and keeps her company; he is attentive to her. You could start there."

"Are you hungry?"

"A little, nothing that will kill me"

"Let's have breakfast" he murmured. Did it sound like an order? Yes, but he hoped to get a little better with practice.

"Only if you pay" you answered with a mischievous smile.

He led you to a small establishment you'd never been to, which he probably chose because he was all alone, and you sat at one of the little tables with worn cushioned chairs, facing each other. The question you wanted to ask him was on the tip of your tongue, but you were still working up the courage to gesticulate it.

Kaz ordered some eggs and bacon and since you were craving something sweet you ordered some fried dough stuffed with currants, on the recommendation of your companion, and both of you ordered the second coffee of the day.

"And what is?"

"What is what?"

“The deal” you exclaimed, as if it were obvious, but he didn't seem to understand “I suppose if we came here alone it's so you can ask me to make a deal. Steal, spy on someone right?"

He was stunned for a moment. Didn't you notice the effort he was making? Was that your idea of his actions? Honestly he couldn't blame you, because, probably, in other circumstances that would have been the case to isolate himself from the others in the group. But not now.

"There's nothing" he replied, but you narrowed your eyes to let him know that you didn't believe him "No tricks, I promise"

"So does that mean I'm the boss's favorite?" you asked with mock enthusiasm, deciding to play with his patience a bit.

"Shut up or you're going to lose your privileges," he countered. It felt good to tease you, have a little fun for a change.

You were sitting there until the mass of people that gathered at noon allowed it and then you returned to The Slat with your hands loaded with bags that at some point in the day you would place in the cupboard, not wanting to do it immediately so as not to spoil the atmosphere of peace between you and Kaz, who hadn't left you yet.

“Anything in particular you want for lunch?” you asked, moving closer to him. It was just the two of you in the kitchen and the rest of the place was relatively quiet. "You know, to offer you privileges to threaten you with later."

He almost laughed, but the suppressed smile you saw on him was enough to make you want to see more. You and Kaz were friends (or so you hoped, at least) but there weren't many memories between you like that, almost all of them were related to work or at the club or with one of you saving the other's ass. You had only once helped him heal a wound, just because he couldn't reach that section of his back and then he justified himself by asking for your help by saying that it had been partly your fault, which was totally false but that you weren't going to argue with him if that made him feel less embarrassed.

It felt different, like something more relaxed, soft… more domestic. You had just returned from shopping together, you had eaten an exquisite breakfast that he paid for and now you were asking him what he wanted you to prepare for him to eat… were you a couple of criminals or a newly married couple? 

The thought of a marriage with Kaz warmed your cheeks and you wanted to laugh at how absurd that would be.

"Whatever you want, anyway, my stomach already has enough defenses against indigestion" upon hearing this you barely pushed his arm, but as soon as you did, your eyes widened as you remembered who you were talking to, although to your surprise he didn’t complain.

"I'll make pea soup," you informed. You knew it was one of his favorites because of the second course he always served himself when he thought no one else was looking. You did, you looked at Kaz Brekker all the time.

He just hummed in the affirmative and left without another word.

During the course of the morning you did more activities, but you couldn't stop thinking about him and the walk they had taken together. Suddenly you would surprise yourself remembering his expressions at your bad jokes and smiling like a fool when you thought about how beautiful his eyes looked with the brightness of that morning.

Kaz ever had a partner? Did he like someone? Was he even interested in those things? You didn't know, but it wasn't a crime to have some admiration for him either, right? Jeez, he'd only been a little nice to you, why were you so excited about that?

You had never thought about whether you had feelings for him, beyond the initial working relationship that had now become a kind of family bond, although now you were reflecting on it.

And later, when his expression brightened from the plate of food you served him, you felt that it might not be such a wrong idea.

I like your smile.

It was the only note that had been left with the flowers, which you had been receiving for quite some time. Always without fail, always on the nightstand in your room.

Although you were worried about who this "secret admirer" might be, your curiosity was greater and you had been careful not to mention anything to your friends. Well, it was really just the boys, because Inej and Nina knew a lot about things, since the jobs to steal were scarce lately, you guys had more time to do anything else. 

Kaz trusted any of you so he let you roam the Crow club as you please, but also to check that things were in order: no scammers, control fights, check that the girls weren't harassed by the clients, things like that.

That night the club was short of a barista, so you and Wylan had split the responsibility for it by taking turns meeting the demand.

He was more skilled than you at making cocktails, perhaps due to his chemical mixing skills, but still the boy was patient with you and he only laughed when you messed up.

"I prefer this to be like poor Jes” you muttered amused, because from where you could see the boy sitting next to the door playing with one of his guns, obviously annoyed because Kaz had ordered him to stay away from the gaming tables. You thought that Wylan also had something to do with it, because they both hated that it fueled their gambling problem "But I need to distract myself a bit, will you be okay by yourself?" you asked. You knew he would be fine so you walked out of the bar without much guilt.

You were taking a walk among the tables when you felt someone grab your arm and you turned defensively. It was Lior, who you had already served too many drinks for a person of his size and now he was suffering the consequences. After serving perhaps the fifth in a row you got a little worried, but you didn't want to intervene because you thought it was none of your business. As long as he paid them, you had no objection.

"Y/N," he said, drawing out his tongue. Several of the Dregs were standing around him, apparently also drinking some beer, and were watching you curiously. "Sit with us," he ordered, patting an unoccupied chair next to him.

You didn't want to be rude and tried to say you were working now, but he was insistent until you agreed to sit down for a few minutes. The other men weren't chatting with you, probably as a matter of avoiding trouble with the boss, but Lior was particularly eloquent. As an effect of alcohol, he didn’t measure distances and sometimes he would spill some beer near you or invade your personal space to talk to you. You let it go because you didn't want to cause a conflict and, to a certain extent, it was tolerable.

But after a while, his behavior became more annoying. He was holding your hand and even tried to stroke your leg, but what made you jump back was when he leaned in for a kiss. Luckily you had been faster.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" you asked flustered, drawing the attention of the others at the table.

"Oh, don't pretend you don't want to" he replied. His body leaned towards you again and you moved further away, which made him annoyed "I've seen how you look at me"

"Sorry, what?"

"You want me," he stated. You were suddenly startled by the confidence with which he was saying that and how deep his voice sounded, like that of a wild animal. And, from his perception, you played the role of the prey.

"That’s not true, fuck you," you spat, getting up from your chair, but you were stopped by his strong grip on your forearm.

"Come on, Y/N. You like me and I like you, stop making yourself difficult"

"I told you no" you exclaimed with a trembling voice. The problem wasn't whether or not you could face the boy, but that he had caught you off guard. Although it was true that you liked him a little, you weren't going to allow him to want to kiss you just like that, to say the least… because judging from his insistence, you doubted that a kiss was all he wanted.

You almost screamed as he pulled you towards him and this caught the attention of several people around you, but before you could do anything an object came between you and threw Lior back into his chair in one movement.

It was a cane.

It was clear that by this point several tables had already stopped their games to pay attention to the menacing expression of the bastard with the barrel hovering over a drunken kid imprisoned in his chair.

"No means no" Kaz said slowly and quite close to the challenging face of the opponent. It was almost like he had been watching you the whole time, waiting for the perfect moment to intervene, or maybe he just had a sixth sense that would alert him when one of his crows was in trouble.

He thought that this would be enough to scare the boy and withdrew the cane from his chest, intending to turn around to check on your well-being, but he did not count on the fact that Lior's drunken state also gave him the courage to dare to jump in to hit him. The black-haired man's instinct made him turn around just in time to stop the drunk and throw him face-first against the table, holding his folded hand against his back.

If there was anyone left who hadn't noticed the discussion that was enough for them to notice, including Wylan, Jesper, and Matthias who had risen from their places to intervene if necessary. But it probably wouldn't. Kaz was furious.

You saw him whisper in the boy's ear and you knew it was a threat from the expression on his face, in addition to the groan of pain that the youngest emanated when Kaz mercilessly pulled his arm.

He remained in that position for a moment, completely blinded by anger, enjoying the cries of pain the shu boy was making.

"Get him out of here" Kaz ordered The Dregs, who had been watching everything in silence. You also didn't get to hear what he said to one of them, but the chances of Lior waking up the next day in pain from a beating were pretty high.

As you backed away you collided with a huge body and calmed down to see that it was Matthias, asking if you were okay. It didn't take long for all the men of the team to gather around you to ask what had happened, but you were still a little stunned to answer coherently.

Even so, you looked for Kaz's gaze just to realize he didn't look angry, but worried and his eyes were in charge of communicating everything that his mouth didn't. Somehow you quietly reassured him too, but he couldn't bear to see the glitter that threatened to turn to tears.

"Thank you" you managed to whisper, still a little nervous.

“Take the night off,” the black-haired man murmured, again sounding more like an order than a suggestion. “Walk her to The Slat, Jesper. Matthias, stay at the door”

The three of them returned to their respective posts and for a moment you thought that Kaz was also going to accompany you, but when you looked back he was already rushing with a firm step towards the door where the rest of his men had left.

Once you were in your room, and Jesper made sure for the thousandth time that you were okay, the feeling of discomfort eased considerably, but you noticed the bruise already beginning to form on your forearm from the man's grip.

What had happened to him? He had always been kind to you and respectful... you didn't even think that he would behave like that with you. You were disgusted and even scared by how quickly things had happened, but you were infinitely grateful that Kaz had come like a guardian angel to help you. You probably could have handled that on your own, however, the shock of receiving that kind of treatment from a person you were beginning to trust and even care for was what put you at a disadvantage.

You struggled a lot to fall asleep, because a part of you felt very hurt and sad to think that you didn’t deserve to have sincere love, but one where they only wanted you for physical matters.

Also, the flowers didn't arrive that morning.

When you finally got out of bed you were having trouble concentrating on anything and Nina had to take care of breakfast because you were too sensitive to do anything. This didn’t go unnoticed and everyone insisted that you rest a little more, but when Kaz arrived and realized the situation he didn’t wait to take action on the matter.

“We’re going out,” he said, when he finally intercepted you alone in the kitchen area, even though you weren't in much of a mood at all.

"A job?"

"A walk" he corrected you. You looked confused but didn't say anything and when it was time to leave The Slat you realized that Kaz wasn't talking about hanging out in a group, but just the two of you.

You didn't know where he was taking you, yet the road was as silent as usual. He watched you out of the corner of his eye just to see if your features changed in any way with the landscape, the aromas, or the morning breeze, but he felt a little disappointed when he noticed that your expression was still serious and even a little sad.

He wished he had taken more time with Lior last night.

"He won't bother you again" when he remembered that, he felt the need to let you know that now you could rest easy, and that you know that he himself had taken care of dealing with the matter.

"I don't doubt it," you said, letting out a bitter laugh. You knew what Kaz was capable of when he was angry. "It's just... I feel silly."

"Did you love him?" the man asked. You had already arrived at the place where he wanted to take you in the first place: it was a small meadow, with a lonely bench and too much life to be in the sad and gloomy Ketterdam. It was like finding a little piece of heaven on earth.

“Love him? By God, no, of course not. It was nice to be with him, but… talking about love is too strong. He was just an idiot”

"I'm sorry this has happened" he exclaimed, a little calmer after hearing your negative words about the other man, and at the same time the fact that you were alone gave him a little more confidence to say what he was thinking without being judged, trying to make you realize that he really cared about you.

"It's okay" you smiled to reassure him. He was going to say something else when a purple stain caught his attention under the sleeve of your dress that you had already risked up to the biceps. The night before he didn't notice that the boy had hurt you when he struggled and at that moment his blood boiled with anger "It's nice"

"What?"

"The place," you said, looking everywhere; the slightly gray sky, the birds flying around, the flowers growing next to your feet, and Kaz right in front of you. All of that made up the beauty you were talking about. "Why did you bring me here?"

"I thought maybe you needed to calm down a bit"

"Then you're a good friend," you said softly. Kaz couldn't remember anyone using that term with as much fondness filtered into their voices as you just did.

Friends. You were friends, you loved him at least a little.

"I hope so. I don't have much practice” he confessed and you smiled tenderly. Although you wanted to keep seeing Kaz, something in you forced you to look at the floor, as if there was something there calling you.

The flowers… were those flowers. You could recognize them after receiving them for days and keeping them fresh in the vase: there were the yellow ones and the lilac ones, both with small petals and a brown center.

You paused for a moment to make sure you weren't misreading or confusing things, but when you knelt down to pick up a cluster you knew for a fact that your theory was correct.

"What a curious thing"

"The flowers?" he asked, trying to sound as calm as possible. Even though you couldn't see his face, you somehow knew he was frowning.

“I've been getting exactly these kinds of flowers every weekday for a while now,” you said, getting up and showing Kaz the plants. “The stranger places them on my nightstand before I wake up, every time, without fail. Except for today"

"Maybe I wanted you to come to see them in person"

You froze in place, not expecting such a quick confession from him, and he looked at your face for a reaction. You were still holding the cluster in your hand and you unconsciously squeezed it hard.

In a panic you tried to find another interpretation of his words that didn’t imply the fact that he was the author of those signs of love, but you couldn’t find it. And from the man's slightly embarrassed face, you assumed that was true.

But the worst thing about it was the existence of the note that had kept you tossing and turning the day you received it. I like your smile. Kaz had written that too?

"So... it was you"

"Who did you have in mind?" he asked, a bit defensive, and you smiled, shaking your head.

“No one, I didn’t imagine who it could be. Honestly, at first, it scared me to think that someone was stalking me” you said sincerely. You looked at the bouquet of flowers again and noticed that some were withered, thinking that Kaz probably always chose the prettiest ones to take with you. You fell silent, not of your choice, but because he wasn't saying anything, and then you closed the distance between you by taking a small step forward, still respecting his personal space but enough to make the conversation intimate. “Why did you do that?”

Words were never Kaz's strong suit and he felt his throat tighten as he tried to answer you. What could I tell you about that? Did he himself have a coherent reason for doing that?

He thought you were going to get mad at his silence, but you smiled tenderly because, although he didn't realize it, once again his eyes had been in charge of telling you everything he was keeping quiet about.

"I like them a lot" you spoke again. If he wasn't ready to tell you, you weren't going to push him "I put them in a vase every day and when they're withered I put them in a box" you confessed. Fearing rejection, you lowered your hand to his, took it for a moment to place it higher, and then placed your own flowers in his hand. He held them tremblingly "Calm down, I'm not going to tell anyone"

"Tell them what?"

"I'm the boss’s favorite" you joked and a knot formed in Kaz's stomach when he saw that your eyes dropped for a second to his lips and you licked yours, perhaps unconsciously. You pulled away from him because you thought he might be uncomfortable with the closeness and instead, you left him wanting to have been in that position a little longer “Do you want us to sit here? I like to watch the birds”

He ignored you and a few minutes later you two were sitting next to each other, still saying nothing. Kaz was looking at you out of the corner of his eye and he thought he couldn't be prouder that your sad expression was gone.

And how was I to be? If you had just discovered that you had the sympathy of the man you admired most in all of Kerch.

"You were right," he spoke suddenly, snapping you out of your thoughts about what it would feel like to be a bird and be able to fly.

"About what?"

"You're my favorite. As a person. You are my favorite person” he managed to say. His look from him was sweet and sincere "And I like to see you smile"

"You already told me," you said, trying to suppress a smile and feeling how the blood rose to your cheeks. It took you a moment to dare to say what you were thinking. “I appreciate you, Kaz. I mean it very seriously."

You two stayed there for what seemed like hours and just enjoyed each other's quiet company, the sound of the wind, and the sight of the place. You looked at the horizon and he watched you covertly, thinking about everything he would be able to do to keep you out of the dangers of the world and what he had not realized until the night before when your integrity was threatened. 

One of your knees collided with his and Kaz, instead of pulling away from him, moved his knee slightly to rub against yours.

That day a silent pact had been sealed between you. He loved you and so did you.

No more words were necessary. Just lots of flowers.

[blacknedsoul-blog]

Annabel Lee Whitlock: The Hypocrite, the Vampire and the Femme Fatale. A review of archetypes

Good news: I'm on vacation. Bad news: I'm on vacation.

And that means rest. A positive externality. But on the other hand, it also means that my brain, which is constantly thirsting for stimulation, has lost eight hours of activity a day that it has to fill with something. You know what happens to orange tabbies who suddenly become quiet and behave as if possessed by all the demons of Ars Goetia? Well, sort of.

So my brain in need of stimulation decided to dust off my college notes and talk about archetypes, because it's a thorough enough job to keep me away from climbing walls or checking random stuff on the Internet for 10 hours a day.

What is an archetype?

Just to make sure we're all on the same page, an archetype (a "type character") is a writing model that describes a role and has certain characteristics.

The term was coined by Honoré de Balzac, a French writer obsessed with what he called "micro-history. His life's work, "La Comédie humaine", is a massive collection of more than 80 novels, which, when read, will give you more information about that historical period than any theoretical book on the subject.

You may not know this sir or the protagonist of "Illusions perdues", but you do know the archetype that Lucien Rumempré represents: a young from the provinces, full of dreams, who moves to the city only to discover that the lights are there to dazzle and distract from the misery.

But at the same time, the characters that come to mind are likely to be very different from the good Lucien. This is because the archetype is a different construct from the cliché.

If I had to explain the difference, I would say that the cliché is a recipe, while the archetype is a mold.

If you follow a recipe, you will always get results that are very similar, even if you make small variations in the recipe. But if you have a star cookie cutter, the contents of the cookies can be quite different: no one would dare say that a chocolate chip cookie tastes the same as an oatmeal cookie or a gingerbread cookie. Even if all three are cut in the shape of a star.

So I'm going to do a little review of the archetypes that Annabel notices. The differences, the similarities, and let's see what comes out.

The Hypocrite

Not "hypocrite" in the sense of a personality, but in the sense of a way of behaving in the world: The Hypocrite is a character whose way of relating to the world is a pantomime, whose role is to build themselves up to fit into a system (which, by the way, they despise). If they don't have what you want, they will at least pretend enough to make you think they do. Usually for personal gain.

The founder of this archetype is Julien Sorel, the protagonist of "Le Rogue et Le Noir", the most famous work of Stendhal, one of the most prominent writers of the literary realism founded by Balzac.

Julien is this poor boy, but smart enough to memorize the Bible, which makes him seem educated enough to get him a job as a tutor in a rich house, and eventually a priest's cassock.

A more modern example is Nick Wilde from Zootopia. This fox has decided that if he alone can be a con man, he will be one, though he desperately wants someone to see him as an individual beyond that. He hates the system that condemns him, but he wants to be a part of it and will play by the rules he is given in order to profit.

Annabel, like Julien and Nick, has built her entire identity around being what is expected of her, in her case a perfect Victorian high society lady. Something that has given her a tremendous amount of knowledge about how people move in such circles. And from her point of view, people are the same everywhere (Miss Marple would be proud of her).

And in this oppressive context that fosters an environment where people kill each other, she knows what currency to give in return for loyalty: people will look for a leader, someone competent, someone who knows what they're doing.

Annabel has no idea what's going on, what awaits them outside the Nevermore gate, or even if there's a way to escape. But she can pretend to know. The quietest person in the room wins, and she's the one who takes the prizes to achieve her goal. The performance is justified as a means to an end.

Another thing that characterizes stories with a Hypocrite as a relevant character is the exploration of the consequences of this lifestyle: identity is consumed by the role, the line between actor and character is lost, and the Hypocrite is often faced with the reality that they have put so much of themselves into the character they are playing that once it is exposed, there is nothing underneath, or at least nothing worth saving.

In Annabel's case, this is expressed in her utter horror at not being trusted by Lenore. She puts her hypocrisy at the disposal of her lover and comforts herself with the reward of her affection, but Lenore's love for her is the only thread that binds her own identity: that Lenore does not trust her means that the role has completely consumed her, the complete confirmation that she, as an individual, is no longer a disturbed poseur.

Related to this point, we have the final transversal line in the conflicts that Hypocrites tend to have: loneliness. When all their relationships are based on a carefully rehearsed performance, the Hypocrite knows that they are alone in the world, that no one really knows them, and they are usually so deep in the role by this point that they don't want to (or can't) leave it. The longing for honest relationships overlaps with their self-destructive tendencies.

As much as Annabel insists that it's her and Lenore against the world, that her life is meaningless without Lenore, and that she is enough, these phrases indicate that Annabel is painfully aware of how she is perceived by others, and though she tells herself that Lenore's love is all she needs, it seems more like a mantra to keep her sane than a reality.

As you may have noticed, the main difference from the usual Hypocrite is that Annabel has Lenore. A bit like Nick has Judy. But Nevermore is a story that takes the psychology of its characters much more seriously, so while Nick just needs someone to reach out to in order to form honest relationships, Annabel passes because she has no fucking idea how to form an honest, healthy bond.

That Annabel is extraordinarily self-destructive, emotionally dependent, and so afraid to step outside the box she knows so well are, in this light, natural consequences of the Hypocrite lifestyle.

The Vampire

Here we must make a leap to another movement: during the Romantic period, the Gothic novel was at its best, and it was Edgar Allan Poe who squeezed out the last drops of what this genre had to offer.

Now, looking at the bibliography, Annabel does not have much in common with the gothic heroine (that is something Lenore takes care of), neither on an aesthetic level nor on a value level. To find her in the works that inspire her, one must look in a slightly different direction: the female vampires of gothic fiction.

Aurelia ("Vampirismus" by E.T.A. Hoffmann), Carmilla ("Carmilla" by Sheridan Le Fanu), Clarimonde ("The death woman in love" by Théophile Gautier), the vampire in the poem "The Metamorphosis of the Vampire" by Baudelaire, the three vampire women, and Lucy ("Dracula" by Bram Stoker).

All these characters have something more in common than their fangs: they are beautiful women capable of making anyone who sees them fall completely into their arms, as opposed to their role of making the one they have chosen as their prey "fall".

The Gothic vampire is practically a succubus, but much less sexualized than one might think. Although many of these works, with the exception of the poem by the good Baudelaire (an author who should be fed separately on these matters), spare no pages in describing how beautiful they are, neither do they overly sexualize them, nor are they particularly flirtatious: even Clarimonde is dedicated to simply being there and letting her presence alone do the work.

This is something Annabel shares with the gothic vampire: though physically gorgeous, the framing in the comic doesn't tend to focus on her as an object of sexual desire, her beauty is highlighted, but in a way that is more akin to an ethereal or unattainable entity.

This is due to a mixture of two things: the Gothic novel is steeped in Catholic puritanism, and even if it is to present a villain who uses her attractiveness as a weapon, the erotic component is subtly exposed, and the vampire's angelic beauty offers a contrast to her status as an antagonist: beautiful on the outside, insidious on the inside.

This is another thing Annabel has in common with the gothic vampire: she is aware that her appearance gives her a haughty, elegant, and dignified air, identifiable enough to earn nicknames like "Queen" or "Queenie," and she knows how to capitalize on it. This contrasts with the darker parts of her personality.

Another thing that terrifies romantics about vampires is that these fangirl succubi possess a quality that makes us 21st-century readers raise an eyebrow because it's supposed to make us uncomfortable: a deep, honest, and sincere willingness to be affectionate.

In context, this makes sense: the vampire is a representation of sin, temptation, and lust. So their affection is something that leads the object of it away from the path of morality (this is the 19th century, this is really important).

I understand that because of the vampire's role in all of this, she is a devoted lover. Incredibly devoted, in fact: Clarimonde is Romuald's sugar mommy (no, I'm not kidding, I'm not exaggerating either), and Carmilla never stops showering Laura with affection and attention, satisfying this girl's craving for companionship after living in isolation.

Annabel does something similar: there is a genuine interest on her part to reach out and connect with Lenore, and in scenes like this, she goes out of her way to show her that she is an amazing person in her own right, rather than being her brother's shadow.

All kidding aside, I think of the archetypes I could find to analyze Annabel, this is the one that fits her best, even though she is not, well, literally a vampire. She seems to have several things in common with Carmilla in particular.

The Femme Fatale

We all have a more or less clear idea of what a femme fatale is: this extremely attractive, sexually active, badass woman who is there to make the male character's life miserable and has a 50% chance of smoking fine cigarettes with a cigarette holder. This is…partially true, but also highly inaccurate.

Although these characters can be traced back much further in mythology, this archetype gets its name and very specific form from Raymond Chandler, the founder of the noir novel. I'm not going to go into too much detail on this topic, as entire books could be written about it, so let's just focus on what's important.

The thing to understand about the context to understand the Femme Fatale is that we are in the 30-40's and although she has many more rights than 19th century women, the decadence shown in these works emphasizes that she is in a macho context where every single rule of the game is stacked against her. This is something that Femme Fatale is acutely aware of: no matter how well she plays the game, she will always lose.

This is something that Annabel shares with this archetype: she is very aware of the rules of the game, she knows backwards and forwards how the world works, so she is also aware that they are too heavily stacked against her to ever win. All she can do is resign herself, play the role as best she can, and find small distractions to cling to like a burning nail so as not to lose her head altogether.

Therefore, the Femme Fatale's approach to life is this: if the rules are stacked against her, that means she has the right to do whatever it takes to survive. These tactics usually include manipulation, deception, exploitation, and, of course, making the most of her sexual attractiveness because, unlike the vampire, she knows how to flirt and use sex as a weapon. What needs to be kept in mind here is that for this character archetype, the use of these wiles comes not because she is factory evil, but as a coping mechanism within a system she cannot win against. If this ultimately makes her a villain, it's more about her role within the story in which it plays out than anything about the archetype itself.

Here's an interesting difference between the Annabel we see in Lenore's memories and the one we see in the present day of the comic: Annabel used to be willing to play by the rules, but the thing she learned from Lenore is that cheating is more than possible. As a result, her attitude has become much closer to that of a Femme Fatale, using her extensive knowledge of the rules to her advantage, going with the flow for personal gain. Her methods are much closer to those of the Hypocrite (especially since we haven't seen Annabel use her body or affection as currency yet), but there are definitely similarities.

Another thing about the Femme Fatale (when she is NOT a villain) is that, like the Vampire, she operates within a duality: an exterior built to be sexy in a somewhat intimidating way (which is why the aesthetics of many of these characters can be interpreted within BDSM culture), but with some goodness in her heart. A really clear example of this is Vivian Sternwood from The Big Sleep (the first novel on the subject published by Raymond Chandler): her own father describes her as "rude, demanding, clever, and quite ruthless," and Marlow, our detective, will have a long series of uncomfortable encounters with her. But by the end of the novel, when he is faced with the same choice Vivian must have made in the past, he cannot help but realize that despite everything, this woman would rather keep painful secrets than harm her family, whom she loves dearly.

So if you're wondering why the framing of scenes like this looks familiar, that's why.

Add to that the three layers of how her aesthetic works: an angelic appearance for when she needs to play dumb, her gaslighting, gatekeeping, girlboss bullshit face for when she needs to demonstrate authority, and framing where it should make you directly uncomfortable.

Looks are one of the strengths of Femmel Fatale's performance. And it's one of the strengths of Annabel's performance.

Conclusions

One interesting thing about looking at Annabel in this light is to realize two things: first, that many of the archetypes her character seems to take notes from are often in the role of antagonists or, for that matter, villains. 

The other is that these archetypes are quite well ordered and connected: the gothic vampire is the inspiration for the Femme Fatale of Noir (her beta version, if you can call it that), and the Hypocrite shares a historical writing period with many female vampires. From her conception, Annabel is constructed in a fairly orderly fashion, and believe me, that's a huge contrast to what's going to happen with Lenore (which I'll get to soon, but I need to brush up on my picaresque novel notes). 

The last thing I want to point out in this review is this: unless you're a Nick Wilde-style Hypocrite, Hypocrites and Vampires in general tend to have utter destruction in store for them. The Noir, for its part, puts us in a situation where the Femme Fatale, even if she wants to change, is generally too deep in this tangle to get out. 

So what I find interesting about Annabel in this regard is:

This is actually THE scene that shows us Annabel timidly stepping out of the scheme of things. She doesn't seem to want to change, in fact I'd bet she's terrified to change, but even though she's repeating her father's toxic pattern here, she's also breaking it without realizing it. 

It's too early to tell if we'll see Annabel have some sort of redemption towards less harmful behavior, or if we'll end up seeing her become a villain altogether. But I'm really curious to see where this story goes with all of these elements.

[saphirered]

Can I request a vax’ildan x reader fic where the reader doesn’t want him to be alone when he goes with the raven queen so she strikes a deal with the matron to serve her eternally by his side?

Hope this is to your liking! I struggled a bit with this one for some reason buuuuut I managed to nail down all the angst! 😘

Tick tock, goes the clock of the pompous asshole (affectionately) lord of Whitestone. Tick tock, time runs out. Vax’ildan knows one day the time will come where the matron will call upon this bargain; his sister’s life for his undying service. It’s a sacrifice he’d make over and over again. The goddess of death is as cryptic as she is creepy and what purpose he might serve now, reveals little by little through vision and calling of something within him that was not there before. One could argue at least he got some fancy armour out of it but that would be a joke in poor taste. The weight of it becomes heavier as time passes. Losing his sister is perhaps the worst thing imaginable to him and that remains the same. She’s always been there for him. He needs her more than she needs him. It just so happens that some other idiots walked into their life they both happen to care about a tremendous amount despite what odds they might be at at times, in the end he’d go to hell and back for them. It makes it all the more difficult that he knows when that bargain of his is called in, he’ll have to leave them behind. 

That makes all these moments count the more, these memories, he has to make sure he’ll never forget them, not through eternity because they make him who he is, every single one of them; Pickle and Scan-man, Big Man, Kiki and Freddy, his sister Stubby and then there’s you; Sparkles. Just the thought of that nickname he gave you brings a smile to his face. You’d asked him many times why Sparkles. He’d always given you a different answer, each one more ridiculous than the last. In reality he knows exactly why. When he makes you smile, your eyes light up. It’s so simple. It’s so stupid. But it stuck. He’d do anything to see you smile again. You’ve not smiled at him like that ever since he told you of the deal he made with the Raven Queen. He’s not truly smiled since. 

You had so many questions, he could feel but you didn't ask. You had sat there and the sparks in your eyes dimmed, instead it was the light reflecting off your tears this time. You’d wrapped your arms around him, you’d held him and told him everything would be alright even though you both knew the likelihood of anyone weaselling their way out of a deal with a literal god. You hadn’t sobbed, when he did. Your grip never weakened when his body fell too heavy and the weight of the expiration date on his life with his friends and family and you became too much of a burden to bear, to heavy a reality to face. You were strong when he couldn’t be. You comforted him when he put on a brave face before the others, when the times got tough. And when you finally pulled away, when you cupped his face and told him this doesn’t change anything, the trailing tears already drying nearly broke him again. You smiled at him but there would be no sparkles in your eyes. 

Effort was made, by yourself, his sister and your friends. Research was done on the matron of death, her history, her ways, her temples, and so much more but it never seemed like enough. With more knowledge revealed, the more damning this got. Vax slowly witnessed you lose more courage. You started dabbling in certain magics, but heeded his warnings and stayed clear of the things that brought the Briarwoods their demise. You respected his wishes, besides you did not think those treacherous practices would keep at bay the Raven Queen. Silas Briarwood had just died. Vax has not and will not. You did claim you might have had an easier time undoing some devil’s deal. He had simply retorted he doesn’t like to half-ass things. You’d smiled and there had been a brief spark but it faded as quickly as it came. 

Vax had found you praying to her sometimes. You’d be looking at the stars when you thought no one could hear. You’d ask for guidance, a way out, freedom, justice, anything to save him. Sometimes he’d find you with a raven’s feather in your palm, or tucked somewhere in your hair or clothes. You’d be surprised at its presence and when he asked how you got it, you never knew how it ended up on your person. You didn’t lie necessarily. It just wasn’t the whole truth. Now he finds you gone, off somewhere away from everyone, in her damned temple. You sit at the red pool  surrounded by books and a broken orb. You read the pages again and again until on your knees you draw runes and markings he cannot begin to comprehend. He’s quiet and sticks to the shadows but something urges him closer. He resists. The magic seems to fizzle and you cry in frustration. You throw a bowl into the red pool. Its splash reaches you and stains your clothes despite you wiping it away best you can. 

“I’ve tried everything. You won’t even listen to me. What’s the use? You think yourself better? Because you ascended? Does that make me not but a bug in your palm waiting to be squashed?”  You speak dryly getting to your feet picking up the orb. You’re half ready to cast it away, shatter it into a million pieces. But then you see what you see, know what you know and you cannot undo someone’s life work like so. That’s the stories of so many people long gone held in that one orb. You won’t condemn another to the dark. You tuck it close to your chest. 

“What are you doing?” You turn on your heels to face the shadows the Champion of the Raven Queen steps out of. Your expression softens and out of habit you go to wipe away the already dried tears from your cheeks. You sniffle. You approach stopping just a step from him, asking permission. You’re hanging on by a thread. You’re falling apart at the seams. Vax forgets his questions and instead invites you into his embrace. You wrap one arm around him to pull yourself closer while the other holds on tightly to that orb in your grasp. 

“I’m sorry.” You don’t say anything else but those words feel heavier than they ever have. They feel hopeless. “I’m so sorry.” You can’t hold back the sob this time, nor the shake of your body. You hold on tighter as you cry and it’s Vax’ turn to silence his own suffering. He has to stay strong for you this time. You need him right now. He kisses the top of your head. 

“It’s alright. You’ll be alright.” He whispers in your ear as he rocks the both of your side to side, rubbing your back, stroking your hair and doing anything and everything to comfort you while his own tears fall silently. 

“I’ve tried- Everything. I’ve done everything. She won’t accept. She won’t listen.” You cry. 

“It’s okay. You’ve already done so much. I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me.” Your cries stop and you freeze just for a few seconds. You pull away. You cup his cheek. The cogs in your head are turning at rapid speed as you put the pieces together and clutch that orb in your palm like it’s the key to solving everything. Vax is confused and shakes his head. “I won’t let you sacrifice yourself for me.” He argues but you shake yours in return. 

“I won’t- I’m not. You told me not to and I’ll respect your wishes. But I think I am ready to make a deal…” You speak more to yourself than to him when you step out of his embrace. You do not look at him as you turn to the pool and kneel down to submerge the orb into the thick red liquid far to akin to blood, it might as well be. “Come on, come on, come on, come on.” You repeat. 

Hesitantly Vax watches, a million things run through his head. He has half the mind to stop you, to drag you out of here and take you far away. He has half the mind to tell you this is madness and a lost cause. Hope has withered and died within him a long time ago. Perhaps that’s why he settled so easily for the inevitable and just dealt with the pain. You’re not like that. You find solutions to impossible problems. You do impossible things with every breath you take. You’re filled with wonder and that makes you wonderful. You promised to respect his wishes and not lose yourself through this dead end, and he believes you’ll keep it so why should he stop you now? One last time. If it fails, you’ll make the best of the time you have left together. If it succeeds… well he doesn’t know what would happen then. Vax stands with you, places a hand on your shoulder as you wait. Your brow furrows and something seems to will you into the pool but he holds you back. Whatever you did, whatever it is you hold, this pool wants it, the Raven Queen wants it. But you’re not about to give up your bargaining chip for free. He realises then.

“You really want it that badly? You’re no different from the rest of us measly little bugs, are you? Come out and face me!” With Vax’ help and by some miracle of your own making you pull your arm free from the pool, orb still in hand and when you and him fall back on your asses, you find yourselves staring up at the visage of the Raven Queen herself, looming in all her might, though you know she’s not truly here. She’s but an avatar, an illusion, but still real enough to smite your arses should she call your bluff. You’re willing to take that risk. Vax’s arm falls around your waist, your back to his side. He’s protecting you without getting in your way, even though he doubts he could do much to stop the Matron of Ravens, he’d certainly try, for you. 

“I didn’t see it then but I see now. You’ve forgotten who you are. They tore you apart and you’re left to piece yourself back together all alone. You want to remember as much as you want to be remembered. I thought ancient knowledge would show me a path to my goal. It wasn’t knowledge. It was compassion. You’re lost.” However faint it may have been, you recall the memories of a woman, a mage, a teacher, someone powerful and respected, but above all someone loved and surrounded by people. You raise the orb towards her. 

“I cannot give you this but I can give you my memories of it, everything I saw, and everything I will find. I will scourge the earth for memories of you, before you became this. I know what fate is set cannot be undone but it doesn’t have to be faced alone. Let me be his memory so he might never forget who he is.” And that’s the offer you make. It’s no deal of wit and trickery, no bargain of a merchant and a customer. This is a bargain of compassion. You offer something the Raven Queen has not seen much of since her ascend. Despite your grievances and selfish intentions your offer remains true. 

The porcelain white mask bends down. Vax helps you to your feet. You have to leave his embrace but you lace your fingers together. The world beyond his arms seems so deadly cold, so lonely. When you take a step forward and another, up to the foot of the goddess, right before you stare up at her expressionless mask, you look over your shoulder and smile. For the first time in a long time Vax sees those sparks again. He could have cried in that very moment. The goddess does not speak when a golden thread flows from you to her. She does not speak when she extends a long finger and pulls the thread. It stretches and you feel as if you’re pulled towards her but you hold steady. She pulls a loop. Vax steps forward, wether of his own volition or not, until he stands just one step further than you, but still at your side. The Raven Queen loops the thread until it curves around him and then she lets go. The new tether sets. Your offer has been accepted. The threads fade and the masked face cocks. That same finger reaches out and raises your head. You do not shy away from those black pits for eyes. He squeezes your hand once more. You smile and offer a thankful nod. Whatever the Raven Queen saw in your eyes must have satisfied because in a burst of feathers and darkness she is gone. 

The moment she is gone Vax’ arms wrap around you and hold you close. He whispers sweet nothings and tells you how reckless and stupid and stubborn you are but you only hear the words as a faint echo as the memories of a dead woman from ages long since passed flash through your mind and you feel a secondhand cold mournfulness. When the memories fade and you feel like your mind has returned to reality the orb is in your pocket and Vax has dragged you away from the cursed temple, far away from gods and this world, and beyond. Faintly do the halls of home flash you by until the shutting of a door behind you pulls you from your trance. 

“You have no idea how much I love you.” Vax breathes as he holds your face between his hands. Your eyes shine but not with tears or sadness. They shine with light and life and hope and wonder, and love, so much love. You hold onto his wrists, a reminder he’s still tethered here, to this place, and forever tethered to you. He shakes his head in disbelief but smiles and places his lips against yours in a loving kiss. Again and again and again. He showers you with love and affection, as you give back in turn. 

You don’t know what it’ll mean or how things work but you know a bargain has been struck and you’ll stay at Vax’ side no matter what. He’ll never be alone. Not when you’ll be tethered to him. 

[trickstarbrave]

my ideas for dunmeri cuisine:

>the south and mainland uses more rice. water is more plentiful and saltrice does require a lot, though the strange wild grain was originally found to grow even in water with a high salinity, making it perfect for even saltwater marshes

>northern vvardenfell tends to use a lot more wickwheat. some nobles on the mainland see wickwheat as the grain of choice for the poor ashlander nomads, and thus will turn up their noses at it. it most closely resembles farro, and it isn't too hard to cultivate but it grows like weeds in the grazelands

>ash yams are very popular, but also still more commonly eaten on vvardenfell where the high amount of ash makes them easy to grow. its not uncommon for the people of vvardenfell to use it to make fillings or flatbreads

>stews and stuffed veggies are staple main dishes usually served with a salad and some kind of bread and sauces. each region shows great variation though, and even tremendous variation within a region depending on the houses and families living there. despite seeming very similar, you'll be surprised at just how different dishes can be

>noodles arent a staple food, but theyre also not uncommon. typically eaten for lunch, and can be made from grains or even starch. stir fried glass noddles and veggies are very common in various places in morrowind, with everything from a sweet a savory taste to super spicy.

>meat and game are more reliable food sources in northern vvardenfell, and thus you'll find cuisines of ashlanders, ald ruhn, and other northern vvardenfell towns (and in the first era, house dagoth) to rely more heavily on it. the constant ash storms means its sometimes easier to rely on meat of nix hounds, nix oxes, and guar than trying to grow things reliably. this is a point of contention as many southern nobles see the meat heavy dishes as crude and unsophisticated.

>kwama eggs are another common food you'll find across morrowind in everything from savory foods to sweets. kwama egg tarts, preserved kwama eggs on congee/poridge, and more. sometimes they'll be wrapped with ground meat, breaded, and deep fried with a blend of dunmeri spices and the rich yolk oozing out, especially popular in dunmeri taverns outside of morrowind.

[ttttobistuff]

Another Believer…

A freezing, yet lovely night was ahead of everyone in the enchanting city of Welcome Home. It had finally arrived, homecoming day! With the preparations being finished, Sally observed from her spot in the clouds. Sitting at the top of the tree, just like a dazzling star, she cordially greeted her friends as they stepped through the door of Home. For what seemed to be an eternity, Sally kicked her feet around, in exasperation.

Hello there—she cheered as Eddie, whom she had been waiting for, turned the handle—Oh, Eddie, we can officially start!

Sally! How on earth did you get up there?—Cracking a grin, Eddie said—I was worried, I couldn’t seem to find you all anywhere…

As the good mailman approached the living room, he could feel a friendly ambiance hugging him. Just as he crossed the line between the entrance and the main room, a familiar face emerged, just as the sun peaks upon the tall hills.

Mr. Dear, you took your time to arrive!—Spoke, as gracefully as always, Frank—We all hoped for your safe arrival, no celebration is a proper one without every guest

While his mouth moved, Eddie could not help it but stare into his tremendously soft cheeks. Have they always been so reddish and…delightful? The poor red-haired man was driven mad when a soft hand caressed his cheek. Mr. Dear melted away into Frank’s touch, being a lovely mess. All until a voice dragged him out of such a heavenly place…

Pack it up, lovebirds—yelled Barnaby, from the other side of the room—Let’s start this, I cannot wait to taste my mama’s eggnog

Nervously chuckling, Eddie apologised and the party went on. This mailman was for sure exhausted from so much worrying…he needed a quick rest on the couch! As he sat down, he felt his tensed body start slipping away. Not much, but enough for him to let a sigh slip away from his lips. What else could he ever wish for? It was homecoming, everyone he cherished was celebrating, and he had one of the most traditional meals: a single pea on a plate.

A single green dot, in such a big white space.

…

His guts began wrenching, twisting and turning. Ice cold sweat rolled its way down his throat. Lungs almost bursting, it felt as if they were getting pulped into nothing but gubbins. Drenched in red, the world seemed too suffocating. Everything was submerged in a certain gloom, only a pair of eyes could light up. His chest went up and down aggressively, without a rest in between.

Oh, Eddie! What would we do without you, sweetheart…—Spoke, softly and gently, Poppy—Dear? Do you hear me?

With no apparent response, Eddie could only help but pant and whine softly. His nails, barely holding within their blood, grasping hardly the couch’s edge. At this, Frank knew he required some space. He acted rapidly, and told Poppy he was just a bit…tired. As they were left alone, he placed himself in front of his dearest and held his shoulders.

Mr. Dear? What’s wrong?—Mr. Frankly seemed genuinely worried, noticing all symptoms of sickness—Please, speak to me…

Softly speaking made Eddie snap out of it. Taking a big breath, he looked up and blinked a few times. As he looked around, he took a hand to his face and dried his own sweat. Ultimately, he looked upon Frank.

I…—Eddie spoke, almost in whispers—saw it.

Mr. Dear, I think it’s appropriate to go home now—Mr. Frankly told the man who was facing him—You are definitely not in conditions to be here!

Frank made sure to let someone know about them leaving, only in case they asked. Then, they left silently without people noticing, except Barnaby who they had told. Eddie could hardly walk properly, stumbling at every step or so, his lover was tremendously worried.

After analysing the situation, Frank was forced to take Eddie to his home since it was the closest. As expected, they arrived in a matter of minutes. Thankfully, the house was warm and Eddie felt a little bit better than before. Yet, he still was containing himself…

Mr. Dear, what happened back in Home?—Frank spoke softly, while hanging his coat and taking Eddie’s too—Is it stress? Working seven days must be affecting your immune system! That’s right…high levels of constant stress could-

Frank—Said Eddie, roughly—something’s very wrong inside that house. Well, not inside but beneath it…

No stutters, no doubts. Frank knew Eddie was not joking around with him, and it sent shivers down his spine.

W-what do you mean?—Shaking voice came out of Frank’s throat, unable to stay calm

His eyes, he was slowly drowning me–Eddie said, in a quite paranoid voice–You’ve got to believe me, please

As tension built up between them, Frank knew this was going to end up wrong…they should not be talking about this. Not so close to him.

Stop, I beg you—A grey hand covered Eddie’s lips? Preventing him to speak any further about the situation.—You…I cannot do this without you.

Confusion striked Eddie, the numbness from the homecoming incident had completely vanished by now. All that was left were some terrorising memories, almost as vivid nightmares. He was too stressed to even stop and think, for him, it was too late. Frank’s hand slipped off, Eddie’s tongue too.

For the love of God, Mr. Dear—Started, Frank—quit this!

I refuse, please hear me!—Loudly said, by Eddie in distress—What I saw…

…What was it?—asked, perhaps unfortunately, Frank—What did you see?

The bellow.—Eddie said it with confidence, believing in what he saw.

I beg you, Mr. Dear, sit down and calm yourself.—Frank caressed once again his face, his thumb going in circles—Stay with me.

Few moments of silence, a hoaxed peace.

No! Give me just one more chance, one more glance…—The mailman approached Mr. Frankly’s chest—And I will make of you another believer.

Frank’s silence was the last drop needed for the water to spill. Eddie’s hands stopped holding onto him, and his legs began moving towards the door. Without a second thought, he ran away, leaving Frank all alone.

Eddie ran, as fast as he could. His legs failed around fifteen minutes later, making him trip and fall to the ground. It was then when he realised…he had never seen this side of the neighbourhood. Was this forest always here?

Before his question could be answered, a strange object seemed to impact his head from a blind spot. Before passing out, he observed a rather familiar silhouette looming over his barely conscious body.

Such eyes, shining bright in the night, could only belong to one person.

…

What are we gonna do now?—Frank spoke, feeling guilt twist his guts.

(Based upon newest hidden video-03/24)

[binarybreak]

Hey all! Just wanted to say:

1) The season two premier was such a fantastic way to develop both interest and intrigue in the new season, I was so stoked, you all did a fantastic job making me (I can't speak for the rest of your audience) invested in these characters, the mystery of what happened to Team Baby, and what happens next. I completely understand your monthly release schedule (it's a tremendously impressive accomplishment, especially considering this is a fan project made by people who, I'm sure, have plenty else going on in their lives,) and I'd never be like "okay guys, hurry it up," but I will say that I'm very anxious to hear the next episode!

2) I'm reading over the rules for Digidice, and I just have one question: am I missing something, or is there no mechanical difference between the Tired condition and the Sick condition? Like obviously you'd play them differently as a character, but they're essentially the same thing rules wise?

3) Are there any plans for developing a bestiary/monster manual type of thing? Like obviously fans already know all the classic Digimon and are more than willing to run with fakemons so you wouldn't need pictures or lore, I'm just concerned about the poor DMs needing to come up with stat blocks for NPCs on the fly when things go off the rail. To be clear, I'm not asking you to make one, I was just thinking I might have fun making one, but I didn't want to bother if there's already one in the works

4.) I have tried actual play after actual play podcast. The first podcast I ever listened to was TAZ*, and since I loved it so much I scoured the genre for any more content I would like. You are the first actual play since TAZ to actually catch and hold my attention. I don't know what it is about you other than a simple matter of personal taste, but you are rocking it. Thank you for making this show

*Unless it was Ars Paridoxica. Definitely one of those two

1. Thank you! Trust me, I am also eager to get to the next part of the story. If I could do this show as my full-time job, and release a new episode every week, I absolutely would.

2. Yeah, currently they're just two different flavors of the same condition. Played different ways and cured in different ways. The condition system is something I'm probably gonna totally overhaul if I ever do a second edition.

3. At some point, we will probably release Digidice stats for all of the digimon that appear in Binary Break (canon and original). Might also stat out a fair chunk of the most popular canon digimon who don't appear in the show, just as a resource for other GMs, and cause making digimon in that system is legitimately fun for me. In the meantime, feel free to stat out as many canon digi as you wish. Some folks on my Discord server were recently discussing the possibility of a sorta collaborative project to make something along those lines, but right now it's just in the "wouldn't it be cool if" phase.

4. That is some wonderfully high praise. It really means the world to me to hear you say that. So far the reaction to the season 2 premiere has been just lovely. Thank you so much for sharing this with us. 💜

- Claire

[vir-g-o]

Draco x Slytherin!Reader

Y/N Hawthorn was the oldest daughter of the Hawthorn family. The Hawthorn were known for the giant empery of feather pens they built. They distributed to the Minister, and all across England and Ireland. The first time that Draco and Y/N meet was at a party thrown by the Malfoy’s at their Manor. Mr Hawthorn, well known feather pens seller and distributor (and discreet supremacist of pureblood supporter), and Lucius Malfoy meet at the Minister, and got along right away. Having both children of the same age and living fairly close to each other they though it was a great idea to bring them together. Mr Hawthorn arrived at Malfoy´s Manor with his pregnant wife (Bhavana, a beautiful woman, from a poor pureblood Ireland family, that won the lottery marrying to her wealthy husband), and their daughter. Bhavana was a beautiful tall and skinny woman, with dark hair and blood-red eyes. Her daughter Y/N was nothing the less her exact picture, a pale kid with the same fire eyes. Draco and Y/N, both arrogant with sharp tongues little kids, as their parents, fit in with each other perfectly. Except for one little, insignificant detail: Y/N's mother never really agreed with the purist ideas of blood. But both of her and Y/N quickly learned to suck it up out of convenience after a few incidents with Mr Hawthorn when Y/N was younger and therefor more imprudent. From that night Draco and Y/N became close friends, and Y/N spend tons of days out at the Malfoy´s Manor. Both got sorted at the Slytherin house, to the pleas of their fathers. But at Hogwarts, they dynamic became to change.

CHAPTER 1

3th year

The firs class of Care of Magical Creatures was important. At least for Y/N. She loved magical creatures, although for Draco it wasn't so exciting. The young witch had spent all summer trying to tame the beast-like book and had accomplish it. She was the only one apparently.

"Oh, how silly we've all been!" Draco sneered. "We should have stroked them! why didn't we guess!"

"I -- I thought they were funny," Hagrid said uncertainly to Hermione.

"Oh, tremendously funny!" said Draco. "Really witty, giving us books that try and rip our hands off!"

Y/N rolled her eyes. After 2 years at Hogwarts she had realise that Draco acted way differently in front of other people than he did when they were alone. She knew that he wanted to shine and the fact that he was surrounded by people he believes where below him didn't make him any more charismatic. Y/N usually kept quiet when he started getting noisy.

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

"You shouldn't say things like that in public Draco" said Y/N while keeping her eyes on the book she was reading.

"Why? Don't tell me you like those filthy mood bloods" reply Draco with a mix of confusion and despise

"It's bad taste expressing one's negative feelings towards other person to their face" Y/N have mastered her parent’s ways on not getting in trouble by sharing their political views. "You never know how people would react, what if someone got violent with you?"

"I'll beat them off" said Draco nonchalant.

Y/N was always surprise at how much slower boys grew up than girls.

-----------

The class continue in a way that surpassed Y/N's expectations. Meeting hippogriffs in their first class was not at all what they all were expecting.

After Harry Potter little trip on Buckbeack Hagrid untied the hippogriffs one by one, and soon people were bowing nervously, all over the paddock. Neville ran repeatedly backward from his, which didn't seem to want to bend its knees. Ron and Hermione practiced on the chestnut, while Harry watched. Y/N, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle had taken over Buckbeak. He had bowed to Draco and Y/N, who were both patting his beak.

"I knew it must have been easy, if Potter could do it.... I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you?" he said to the hippogriff. "Are you, you great ugly brute?"

It happened in a flash of steely talons; Draco let out a high-pitched scream and Y/N felt to the floor, next moment Hagrid was wrestling Buckbeak back into his collar as he strained to get at Draco, who lay curled in the grass, blood blossoming over his robes.

"I'm dying!" Draco yelled as the class panicked. "I'm dying, look at me! It's killed me!" Y/N suffocated a scream of fear.

"Yer not dyin'!" said Hagrid, who had gone very white. "Someone help me-- gotta get him outta here --"

Hermione ran to hold open the gate as Hagrid lifted Draco easily. Blood splattered the grass and Hagrid ran with him, up the slope toward the castle. Y/N and Pansy Parkinson were holding each other with their eyes full of tears.

Y/N and Pansy weren't really close, they get along fairly but after the incident with Draco and Buckbeack they became much closer.

"He should be fired!" said an infuriating Pansy when she and Y/N gathered together at the Slytherin common room.

"It was really dangerous to bring high dangerous classified creatures to the first class" agreed Y/n "I’m so worried about Draco" said in a low voice, he was still at the nursery.

"You and Draco are close, aren't you?" Pansy had eyes shining in curiosity

Y/N blushed a little "Well, we know each other since we were little"

"Do you like him?"

Pansy's question took Y/N of surprised

"Ugh no way, he's just a friend" she left out a little laugh, but the reality was that she has blush.

"Huh, that’s great. Although he's a little cute..." said Pansy looking side-eye to Y/N with a malicious smirk on her face.

Y/N smiled "I guess he is a little cute"

They both break out giggling with their faces red. Then Pansy shhh when realized they were getting a little attention on the common room.

After that they got closer. They often sat together and would talk secretly about Draco. Y/N enjoyed how they both took it light-hearted and neither of they get jealous. Although Y/N was a little more direct in her approaches to Draco, and Auri would just look at her with a raised eyebrow and a smile. Y/N would do the same when she saw Draco and Y/N talking or sitting privately at the common room or the library.

After the incident not much happened between Y/N and Draco, but that didn't last longer.

"But why he's going to get killed?" Y/N cried loudly burying her head between her legs.

"He could have killed me! Don't you care?" Draco responded with an angry tone. They had never fight before.

"I do care! But it wasn't his fault! It was Hagrid's, why couldn't they fire him? Why they have to kill Buckbeack?" the poor girl was in a sea of tears unable to stop "and it was also your fault Draco! Tell them to stop!"

"There, there...quit crying" despite not feeling guilty at all Draco was clumsily patting Y/N in the head. He did felt guilty for making her cry. "Oh...you always have had a soft spot for beasts and sick creatures, don't you? There's nothing to be done, my father is furious"

Y/N's parents also were when she told them all about it in a letter and Y/N couldn't bring herself to defend neither Hagrid or Buckbeack.

At the end of the next Care of Magical Creatures class she approached to Hagrid. He seemed numb with shock at the verdict.

"Hmmmm Professor, I’d like to have a word with you" she said nervously

"What'S miss..."

"Hawthorn, sir"

"Just Hagrid S'fine" Y/N nodded quickly

"I heard about Buckbeack..." suddenly she felt stupid about what she was doing, she has heard about it through Draco and was friends with him, and he was the guilty one about the whole situation after all "I’m so sorry about it, I just wanted to say that I don't think it's fair and that he's a wonderful creature" her eyes were crystal again.

Suddenly she notices that Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger where there looking, She didn't know how much of it they had heard. Y/N knew they were close to Hagrid. The four of them looked at each other awkwardly but Hagrid start talking.

"S'all my fault. Got all tongue-tied. They was all sittin' there in black robes an' I kep' droppin' me notes and forgettin' all them dates yeh looked up fer me, Hermione. An' then Lucius Malfoy stood up an' said his bit, and the Committee jus' did exac'ly what he told 'em...."

"There's still the appeal!" said Ron fiercely. "Don't give up Yet, we're working on it!"

They were walking back up to the castle with the rest of the class. Y/N stayed quiet and uncomfortable.

Ahead they could see Draco, who was walking with Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, and kept looking back.

"S'no good, Ron," said Hagrid sadly as they reached the castle steps.

"That Committee's in Lucius Malfoy's pocket. I'm jus' gonna make sure the rest o' Beaky's time is the happiest he's ever had. I owe him that...."

Hagrid turned around and hurried back toward his cabin, his face buried in his handkerchief.

"Look at him blubber!"

Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle had been standing just inside the castle doors, listening. Draco looked quickly to Y/N and then went back to the trio of Gryffindors.

"Have you ever seen anything quite as pathetic?" said Draco. "And he's supposed to be our teacher!"

Y/N was about to open her mouth but then

-- SMACK!

Hermione had slapped Draco across the face with all the strength she could muster. Draco staggered. All of them stood flabbergasted as Hermione raised her hand again.

"Don't you dare call Hagrid pathetic, you foul -- you evil --"

"Hermione!" said Ron weakly, and he tried to grab her hand as she swung it back.

"Get off, Ron!"

Hermione pulled out her wand. Draco stepped backward. Crabbe and Goyle looked at him for instructions, thoroughly bewildered.

"C'mon," Draco muttered, and in a moment, all three of them had disappeared into the passageway to the dungeons. Y/N was about to go with them but she was stopped by Harry's voice.

"Wait!"

Y/N was a little bit shock but maintained her poker face.

"You're Y/N Hawthorn, right?" Ron and Hermione also looked at him confused

"Yeah, why?"

"We heard you talking to Hagrid" Y/N could feel her face red "Thanks for defending Buckbeack" he said.

"How are you friends with Malfoy?" Hermione said, she still looked shake and heavy mad after hitting Draco.

Y/N felt really pressured under their eyes

"We don't always agree, but I really appreciate him, he's not always a jerk"

"Yeah right" Ron tone was sarcastic "I’m sure deep down he's adorable"

"But it's true, I never had seen him acting like this before we came to Hogwarts, although maybe that was because we were usually alone when we were together" she looked sadly to the ground.

The chat between her and the trio extended a little bit longer. She couldn't convince them that Draco was actually nice to have around and she didn't blame them, but she made it clear that he was really important to her. They talked about their stay in their respective houses, and went along with the Gryffindor vs Slytherin thing humorously, and about classes and professors and some others unimportant things.

Later that night after classes Draco confronted her in the library.

"What where you doing with Potter and his friends?" he has given himself permition to sit right next to her, and she was sure by the fact that he didn't had any books with him that he had going to the library just to look for her. And the thing was that she had go there just to avoid him.

"I was showing my respects to Hagrid about Buckbeack" she knew that Draco was referring just about that and hasn't found out about her little talk with the golden trio, because if that was the case he probably wouldn't be so calm "I don't get why you had to make those stupid comments about Hagrid! Seriously you are so insensitive!"

"I didn't know you cared that much" he said in a mocking tone

"You know I do! I told you that that mouth of you would bring you consequences! You know me, you know I liked to be discreet about thing, why can't you keep your thoughts to close ones? I'm the one that doesn't know you anymore! Why you act like such a jerk? You really need that much of external approval?" Y/N didn't realise she was screaming until she notices the contrast of what she has just said with the silence of everyone else at the library. After a scolding of Madam Pince they both headed towards Slytherin's common room silently.

After a few moments Draco finally talked.

"If that what you think then I don't get why are we even friends"

Y/N stayed silent. She had been wondering about that too lately. She didn't like the way Draco acted in a lot of instances but she still had a lot of fun with him and care for him deeply. But she didn't say anything. Neither did Draco after that, and they both went straight to their beds without saying good night.

[dailyanarchistposts]

Was There Racism at the Convergence?

Of course there was. Racism is not confined to Klan rallies and prime-time television; it pervades our society. It’s safe to say that every predominantly white space is bound to be affected by racist power dynamics; much racism is simply a matter of ignoring others’ needs and thoughtlessly utilizing privilege at others’ expense. This kind of behavior is default setting for most white people, and especially easy in mostly white spaces.

Was the convergence more racist than other predominantly white anarchist spaces or gatherings? We fear the answer is no, though this is no excuse. The challenges we grapple with pervade the entire milieu, and white anarchists should not delude themselves to the contrary. Even those who abhor CrimethInc. projects should be paying attention here. The responsibility to deal with this challenge extends beyond CrimethInc. to the anarchist community at large.

On one hand, it is something of an improvement on other anarchist events that the convergence operates outside the exchange economy, guaranteeing food, housing, and participation to all who attend regardless of their means (and without any humiliating “scholarship” applications). On the other hand, the discomfort of being crowded together with limited facilities and practically no privacy attracts a narrower crowd, subculturally speaking, which can make it even more alienating for people from outside that subculture.

The fact that even a single person of color chose to participate in the disruption out of personal frustration is a serious red flag. If we want to create environments in which people of various races, genders, classes, and walks of life can collaborate and learn from one another, we are responsible for trying to ensure that everyone can feel comfortable in them. Those with privilege have to take the initiative, as they are the ones best positioned to redress the power imbalance.

We can separate issues of white supremacy at the convergence into two basic categories. The first is structural, encompassing the organizing process, the site, and the relationship to the local community. The second is social, comprising the behavior of individuals in the course of the week. Up to this point, the second category has occasioned more internal criticism than the first, but the first is probably more important.

It’s interesting to note how, at least for white attendees, incidents that seemed insignificant when they occurred assumed tremendous significance in the wake of the disruption. Suddenly every comment that had seemed trivial to white ears took on new dimensions. Perhaps this can convey the tiniest taste of what it is like never to be able to shrug off such comments. This should also be instructive to white anarchists who assume the CrimethInc. convergence was targeted because it was a more racist space than other predominantly white gatherings: rest assured that if this had happened at another event, other supposedly insignificant incidents would have been cast in stark relief.

One more note: when addressing racism and white supremacy, it’s important not to judge others’ behavior according to classist criteria. When people visualize a racist, they often picture a poor Southern white, even though wealthy whites are much better positioned to inflict and benefit from racist injustice. Middle class people put a tremendous amount of focus on addressing issues of language and protocol, but addressing one’s racist conditioning is more about communication than language, more about self-awareness than protocol, more about humility than expertise. A rural working class white person who never went to college to learn about “intersectionality” can still be a better comrade to people of color than a wealthy white, however many anti-oppression trainings the latter has attended—or taught.

[impeccablebackside]

Rape/non-con fantasies for the queens?

I will be honest anon, I did willingly omit non-con slightly and also just simply not really consider it. For lack of a descriptive way of explaining it, it is just not for me at all. Even as a role-play where there is actual consent between partners, I cannot appreciate it. Any sort of intimacy always has to be based on love for me or else the enjoyment gets squashed pretty quickly. Rougher fucking is fine (as long as it tame enough not to be painful), but stepping over the imaginary boundaries into something more 'extreme' does not do it for me.

Anyway, here it is by queen anon,

It would break Vic to have something like that happen, even as a fantasy. No matter how much she could prepare for it, the subconscious fear of the non-con sex would affect her in quite the tremendously negative way. On the flip side, Plato would be so upset to 'force' himself onto her, even if she was acting. In fact, if they were role-playing, it would be severely bothersome to both of them and they would end up hugging and apologizing to the other swearing that they love one another.

Rumple would be into it from only one type of perspective. For example, if she were to get caught as a cat burglar, and her discoverer wanted to punish her in some way, then maybe some more non-consensual taking advantage of would be in order. Particularly if the person forcing themselves onto her is taller and stronger than she is (which is not hard at all to accomplish), then it gets to be a dramatically pleasurable experience for the little queen. Each thrust is a tad harder than usual and each movement a bit rougher, and she gets turned on by being fucked like a piece of fuckmeat (I know poor word choice - but for this ask it stands) in her tight holes by someone big and strong.

Tanto would hate it full stop. She would be so uncomfortable with the idea, and the whole experience just would make her enthusiasm (and pussy) dry up in an instant. While she does not explicitly demand respect during sex, she requires her partner to treat her like she is one of the Everlasting Cat's creatures and not do anything rapey (even if agreed upon).

Cass would normally say no, but if someone were to slip it in (not like that, but also like that) while she was already getting railed, it would be a relatively good thing for her. When her and another are really getting into it, harder fucking is always the best. If her tom were to pin her down and really get more forceful, to the point it could be deemed aggressive, she would be on board assuming they had the capability to stop or be attentive to how she is doing. Defiling the goddess is not a game that happens often, but Cass does like it.

Bomba and Deme both have a non-con fantasy for one shared reason, their pasts with Macavity. His fiery love and tendency to be a bit rapey when he was uninhibited ensured they both were fucked to their absolute limits on more than one occasion. The way he was more forceful or how he simply did what pleasured him always made for body shattering orgasms. While they are not as open to admit it, both would still like that feral lust-over-everything kind of dicking down from time to time.

Jenny is not into it. Her encounters, even as they get sometimes get a fair rougher / BDSM-leaning as they progress, always start on a subjectively even ground. She would never be into someone forcing themselves onto her because she is typically dominant as well, and breaking that 'power' in a non-con way does not thrill her much.

Jelly would welcome it as long as it is done in a more tasteful manner while being integrated into her degradation and objectification kinks. Realistically, this already does happen to a degree when sex with her gets a bit more one-sided and she is fucked like a toy of sorts for her tom.

[teabooksandsweets]

A City of Bells

Chapter IX — Part I

Jocelyn and Felicity spent the next few days after Christmas feverishly discussing the play. How exactly should it be presented? Was it a tragedy or a romantic fairy tale? Should it be produced with the simplicity suitable to the one or the fantastic splendour demanded by the other? Above all what was the central idea that must link music, scenery, movement and poetry into one unity? They argued with some heat until Torminster itself, that was already so deeply concerned in Ferranti’s play, became even more so by providing the answer at the choirboys’ annual Christmas party.

This always took place on Holy Innocents’ Day and was a great event, for the entire Close, as well as the choirboys, came to it. It took place at the Palace and not at the Deanery, because the Bishop liked giving parties for small boys and Lady Lavinia did not. It was regarded by all as an act of reparation made to the choirboys by Torminster. Other small boys tasted the joys of leisure at Christmas time, but these sweet innocents were obliged by the exigency of their profession to work harder than ever. Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, Saint Stephen’s Day, Saint John the Evangelist’s and Innocents’ Day followed close upon each other’s heels with that singular lack of proportion in the matter of festivals displayed by Mother Church, who might surely have spaced them out a bit, and on all of them the poor children had to attend at the Cathedral twice daily and shout themselves hoarse in anthems, carols, hymns and special psalms … It was hard.

But the party, a gargantuan one, made up for it, and how fitting it was, said those who never came into close contact with the choirboys, that it should take place on Holy Innocents’ Day … All those sweet little boys with their round cherubic faces, guileless eyes and clean white collars … It was noticeable that those, such as the organist and the headmaster of the choir-school, who did come into contact with the cherubs, never expressed an opinion on the matter.

The party began soon after three o’clock and lasted for five hours.

Henrietta and Hugh Anthony began dressing for it at twelve o’clock. They wrestled with underclothes from twelve till one, when they had lunch with overalls over the underclothes, and from two onwards, with the assistance of the entire household, they coped with the parts that show.

The underclothes of the young at that period were no light matter. The amazing amount of heat that is stored within the bodies of little children was not perhaps realized, and it was considered that they must be kept warm. Henrietta wore immensely thick woollen combinations, a woollen liberty-bodice, a woollen vest, a flannel petticoat, a silk petticoat and finally her winter party frock of blue velvet trimmed with fur. Hugh Anthony was not quite so overburdened with clothes, though his pants were tremendous, because Grandmother did not consider the bodies of the male young to be so tender as those of the female of the species, but his brown velvet suit with its frilly collar drove him nearly mad.

“I look a fool,” he growled at Henrietta. “Why can’t I wear Etons?”

“Grandmother says you can when you’ve worn out that,” said Henrietta. “And I think you look sweet … Like Bubbles.”

Hugh Anthony made a rude noise in his throat and hurled his shoes across the floor.

Yet when it was time to go his philosophic temperament had come to his rescue. What cannot be helped must be endured and he was not without hope that some untoward accident at the party might ruin his detested suit for ever.

Grandfather, Grandmother and the children started off together, the children carrying their party shoes in brown holland bags and all of them swathed to the eyes in coats and shawls and mufflers.

For it had turned very cold. The stars that had shone so brightly on the evening of Christmas Day had been the first torchbearers in a procession of sparkling days and nights. Every morning the sun rose out of a glowing bed of fire and slowly climbed a sky of cold, brilliant blue. There was not much warmth in the sun, though he was so bright and gay, and he seemed a little aloof from the earth that loved him, but at midday he unbent a little and graciously touched the frosted trees with his fingers so that each grey twig was strung with diamonds. Then he withdrew again, flinging as final largesse an orange glow like a veil over the roofs of the city and painting the shadows of the elm-trees deep blue across the snow. Close at his heels the stars came marching and the moon blazed over the Cathedral towers like a round shield carried on the arm of a giant.

As the four of them crossed the Green the world was at that moment of pause between day and night. Henrietta had already noticed that there was always a haunting, unearthly beauty about this time of transition and that it was very varied. On grey, stormy days it was a gradual strange darkening that blotted out familiar shapes and divorced sound from its cause in a way that terrified. On sunshiny summer days it was a gradual intensification of colour and scent that came near to ecstasy. On other days it was a sudden blaze as of fire, on others a hard, bright flatness as though the earth was a painted picture.

It was this last to-day. The bare branches of the elm-trees were strokes of paint laid on sharply against the primrose wash of the sky. The Cathedral towers stood out hard and black against the sheeted gold of the west and the snow-covered grass stretched smooth and pure. Here and there a sudden speck of colour burned as the painter’s brush touched the flat surfaces; an orange square of lamplight leaping out in a dark house, a flash of colour on the snow as a robin hopped across it, a gleam of blue and green as a child in a gay muffler ran home from school. As always on these days when the earth is a painted picture it was very still; the cawing of a rook and the chime of a bell fell sharply as pebbles dropped in a deep well.

They crossed the Green and came to the Market Place, then turned to their left under the great archway that led to the Palace. Here they were overtaken by Mrs. Jameson and Felicity, accompanied by Jocelyn, who had found someone to take charge of the shop till closing time … Grandfather had noticed before that when Felicity was in Torminster Jocelyn found it perfectly easy to leave the shop, but when she was not it was sheer impossibility.

They crossed the drawbridge and passed under the portcullis into the courtyard beyond. In front of them the old walls of the Palace rose majestically, quiet and withdrawn in the evening light, only the windows lighted. They paused to look at it for a moment, for it was very lovely, then scurried hastily to one side as the Dean’s carriage and pair swept by them bearing Lady Lavinia in grey velvet, with a purple boa, and the Dean in a new top-hat.

“Do they want to run over us?” inquired Jocelyn with irritation.

“We’re not carriage folk,” explained Felicity.

[fritillary]

Tagged by @thottyhrs, thanks Maty!

Rules: You can usually tell a lot about a person by the type of music they listen to! Put your favorite playlist on shuffle and list the first 10 songs, then tag 10 people. No skipping!

Okay, so the only playlist I’ve ever like... curated is just my favorite unreleased / obscure Lady Gaga songs & I don’t know how to shuffle on YouTube, so I’m going to use the YouTube My Mix auto generated playlists because there’s only so much you can get out of 10 different Gaga songs LOL. Anyway, here’s what YouTube thinks my ideal playlist is!

King George IV Solo Career -  Horrible Histories

Little Girls -  Oingo Boingo

Ali Baba’s Camel - Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band 

The Marching Song of the Covert Battalions - Billy Bragg

I’m the Urban Spaceman - Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band

Trouser Press - Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band

Endurtaka mig - Daði Freyr, featuring Blær 

Skiptir Ekki Máli - Daði Freyr

The Evil Emperors Song - Horrible Histories (worth noting that this is a REALLY bad Michael Jackson parody but I still really love it)

Corpse Dance - Hatsune Miku

Tags:

@acriia4 @robertdilfniro @kitty-selfshipping @gamzs @planetclaires @bellsofrhymney and anyone else who feels inclined to do it. Obviously there’s no pressure if you don’t want to!

[kingdaddydaichi]

nsfw alphabet ☆ a k. bokuto birthday special

Koutarou Bokuto is an adorable, hulking baby boi with the sweetest soul. His heart is made of sugar and sunshine, and he gives the best hugs. He is love on legs, he is precious and must be protected at all costs. He walks into the room and you smile in spite of yourself. Best birthday wishes for the best birthday boy. 🦉♡

tagging: @briokayama @crystal-lilac @yuujispinkhair

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

omg Bo is such a sweetheart? 🥺 He’s so amazing about aftercare, but he’s also such a softie you’ll have to look after him just as much as he takes care of you. Even if he was the Dom/top. ESPECIALLY if he was the Dom/top! He feels so bad about hurting you, esp if he leaves marks. Poor bb boy will be curled up in a fetal position repeating over and over again how sorry he is. Pls hold him and assure him that you’re okay?

B = Body part (favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His - his butt lol. I meannnn he do be walking around with a lotta cake. 💁🏼‍♀️ He’s also quite proud of his pretty golden eyes and his glorious abs. 😮‍💨

Yours - I think Bo likes your legs the most? He’s always telling you how sexy they are. He can scarcely sit within arm’s reach of you without putting a hand on one of your legs. ALWAYS kisses the insides of your thighs before growling “itadakimasu” and eating your pussy so good. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Loooooves to give you creampies! Loves to cum in your mouth, but more than anything he loves knowing you’re stuffed with his cream filling. Other than that, his loads are kinda average? Cums a normal amount, but his jizz is a little more clear than white?

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Bo kinda feels like a creep for doing this so he hopes you never find out, but…he loves to sniff your panties while he jacks off. Picture him lying on the bed with a recently worn pair of your cute little undies covering half his face, jerking his huge cock with one hand while tugging on his balls with the other. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

I feel like Bo gets laid A LOT in college. It’s kinda sad tho bc he’s honestly not trying to? Girls look at him and think he’s hoe-ish and so a lot of them fuck him thinking that’s all he wants. I think he gets his heart broken quite a few times bc of this. Stupid bitches. 😒 But then he met you and you saw him for who he really is - a sweet man with a huge heart and a tremendous amount of love to give who just wants the same in return and he TREASURES you for it. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Cowgirl. Bo gets soooo turned on watching you use his body for pleasure. Loves watching your titties bounce and the faces you make when you ride him. When your legs get tired, he pulls you down to his chest and pistons into you from below with so much force your eyes roll back when you cum on him. Also he likes to fuck you while standing just bc he can. He’s so strong and big, honey, idc how heavy you think you are, your man’s got you okay?

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It’s Bokuto, okay? He can be serious and tries to be for the most part. But you knew going into this what a himbo he is and he does occasionally say or do something that makes you laugh. He’s so big (everywhere) that he accidentally kicked a lamp off your nightstand trying to change positions. Speaking of positions, his adventurous ass always wants to try the weirdest ones even though he gets stuck in them half the time. One time when he was really drunk, you’d just gone down on him and when you kissed him afterwards, he said, “Gross! Your mouth tastes like my penis!” Then there was the time y’all were going at it doggystyle and when he finished you were laying down with your head near the edge of the bed. Well, Bo’s brilliant ass thought he’d look cool climbing over your head to go to the bathroom but his foot slipped and he ended up doing a sideways backflip off the bed. It sounded like a whole horse falling down a flight of stairs. But the best part was that on his way down he yelled, “HeLp My NuTs!!!” (I can’t with this man.)

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Check it, okay one time he got drunk and tried to make the carpet match the drapes 🤦🏼‍♀️ and got chemical burn on his dick. He came running out of the bathroom, dick flapping, screaming about his cock and balls being on fire bc he got hair bleach on ‘em. Akaashi happened to be there and laughed so hard he cried. Bo got mad and was all “stop laughing, asshole, and take me to the emergency room!” I mean, it healed and he’s fine now but he’ll never try to frost his pube tips again. He keeps ‘em trimmed up nice and neat; likes how it feels and how it makes him look bigger than he already is. 👀

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He is the sweetest ever! Bo gets so swept up in the moment, he’ll hold your hands and kiss your knuckles one by one while he tells you how much he loves and cherishes you; how you’re the most amazing woman he’s ever met, how beautiful you are, how lucky he is to be your man and he just wants to make you happy so you’ll never ever leave him. All while rolling his powerful hips against you. But he doesn’t come off as cheesy at all. You can even see the tears in his eyes sometimes. Mans is so in love with you he doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He will sometimes, but he’s usually either too busy, too tired, or already fucking you into the mattress. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Two words: Praise kink! Bo’s a switch - he likes being a little submissive for you sometimes. Demand that he get on all fours and lick your pussy and he’ll lose his damn mind. Praise him for being such a well-behaved boy and so damn good at pleasing you and he’ll be in a puddle at your feet. Blindfold him too. Wondering what you’re gonna do next will have chills running up and down his spine. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Basically anywhere? Bo’s just happy to be fucking you at all. Ultimately though I think he prefers the bedroom bc it’s the most comfortable and you can both be as loud as you want. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Kiss him on his naked back and he’ll turn around and pin you against the nearest surface. Trace your finger down his chest and he’ll pull you into his lap. And if you give his bare tummy a few soft kisses? Gods help you, he’s rock hard in seconds. Kisses in general turn him on. Like, if you give him a handjob during a makeout session, there’s a 1710% chance he’s cumming around your hand while knitting his brow and moaning into your mouth. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Degradation is a no-go for Bo. Anything that causes pain. If you’re into pain, Bo might not be the guy for you. About the most you can expect from him would be a hard slap on the ass, but he’s really careful about it. He knows his strength and you DO NOT want the full power of his ace hand. Have you SEEN him spike?? 😫 He’ll pull your hair a little. He might nibble or lightly scrape his teeth against your skin, but nothing that would hurt.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He likes getting blowjobs as much as the next guy but eating pussy is something of a specialty of his. He cannot get enough of hearing your moans and whimpers and sighs of his name as he wears you down like a feed bag, esp since your pussy tastes so goddamn sweet. Bo is quite talented with his tongue. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Whatever you want. If you don’t voice a preference much depends on his mood. If he’s in good spirits or has a lot of energy he’s more apt to fuck you hard and fast. If he’s tired or in Emo Mode™️ he’s more likely to go slow and sensual bc he needs to be close to you. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Bo’s all for quickies! He’d prefer to take his time with you and all, but if he can sneak you into the locker room before/after a match when no one else is in there, or early in the morning as you’re trying to head out the door, or in your apartment between classes, he won’t hesitate to try and fuck you if you’re both in the mood. And why wouldn’t you be? Have you seen this beast? 🥵😮‍💨

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Experimental, yes. As mentioned before, Bo is sexually adventurous. He’s always down for trying new positions, toys, places. He’s down for public sex as long as it’s not just blatantly out in the open in broad daylight or a crowded place.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Bo can go for two rounds, max, then he’s down for the count. He lasts a while; if you go for more than one round you’re looking at 1-1.5 hrs, including a brief refractory period. He usually doesn’t last more than 20-30 mins the first round, but if he gets hard again he can go for almost another hour after that. Trust, honey, your man will not leave you wanting either way. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I don’t see him having toys of his own, but if you do he loves to use them on you. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Bo’s not v good at teasing bc he gets so worked up trying to delay your gratification and caves too easily. He just needs to stuff you full of his aching cock already. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Lol. It’s Bo. He’s not great at volume control. Everything about how he fucks is loud - the bed is loud, the sound of his damp skin slapping against yours is loud, you’re loud bc jfc he piledrives that fat cock of his into you so good, and ofc HE is loud. Loves talking dirty during sex, telling you how sexy you sound screaming his name like that; praising you for taking his cock so damn well. And when he cums? Hope you didn’t leave a window open sis bc the whole damn neighborhood’s gonna know he’s about to bust a fat nut! People going for walks just sighing like “the Bokutos are at it again 🙄”. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Bo would be down for a threesome IF you wanted to. If not, he can absolutely do without it; he’s just putting it out there. Another female, another male, doesn’t matter to him. He’s down for whatever; it’s all up to you. I don’t see him being polyamorous tho. Fucking is one thing, but no way in hell would he be able to share your heart with someone else. 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

No less than 8”, fight me. Probably 9”+. Above average in girth, but not a coke can cock like Daichi’s, js. I also feel like Bo got his dick pierced (frenum would be hot) on a dare or he lost a bet. His cock is fair-skinned, pale with a bright pink tip and a couple of thick veins. Ugh, my mouth is watering, hold a bitch back. 😩😤

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Honey. Baby girl. Sweetheart. It’s Tuesday and if you’ve only fucked your man 4 times this week, he’s hurting rn and you need to go find him wherever he is and jump his bones. He’s probably worrying that he said or did something wrong or that you’re losing interest in him. I mean, look at you! 😍 Of course he wants to get on that and get his dick wet as often as you’ll let him. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Bo cums and it’s lights out ngl sis. 🤷🏼‍♀️ Unless he’s up for another round, chances are he’s falling asleep during pillowtalk. Hate to say it, but he has even fallen asleep DURING sex after a particularly tiring/busy day. And if he was on top? Oh gods. You’re just fighting for air and slapping him on the shoulder, talkin bout “BO! WAKE UP! I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU FUCKING FELL ASLEEP!” And he’s just there like surprised with his eyes nearly crossing in exhaustion looking up at you with a pouty frown. “Msosorrybabe mjussosleepy” while rolling off of you. But you smile and kiss him, stroking his limp hair, still damp from his shower earlier. And you whisper, “I love you, Bo.” “N’Iloveyoutoo, baby, so damn mu-“ and just like that he’s out cold, curled up like the big baby owl he is in your arms as you strain to reach all the way around his massive shoulders. “Happy birthday, baby,” you hum, lips that taste like him curling into a smile as he snores softly beside you. 

[stuffedgills]

Stuffing/Burping Prompts

A has a bit of a crush on B and loves their iconic cooking skills. B caters a get-together with all of their friends and A gets really into the meal, having seconds and even thirds. C, trying to wingman for A, asks them how they liked the food. A has only just begun gushing about how good it was before a deep, helpless belch rumbles up from the pit of their overtaxed stomach, leading to no small amount of embarrassment for A and copious laughter from the rest of the room.

B and C are both avid cooks, and they are very competitive with each other. They get A, their soft-spoken friend who has trouble saying no to things, to taste test a series of competing dishes. They go all out with it, making large plates and expecting A to try all of the different ingredients that they cooked. After several dishes, A tried to tell them that they've had enough and are starting to become ill, but B and C are arguing so much that there's no room for A to talk. They force A to keep eating until a prolonged belch suddenly rips from them that is loud enough to drown out both of their voices. They finally notice the state that A (who is beyond mortified) is in and begin to fret over them, feeling guilty for pushing them to that point.

A is typically a shy person, but starts to come out of their shell at a smallish party that consists mostly of good friends and people that they know reasonably well. The relaxed atmosphere emboldens them, so when they feel pressure start to build up from all of the junk food and drinks that they've consumed, they simply pause and let it out before continuing to talk. This shocks A's friends, who considered them to be polite to a fault, but rather than being disgusted they are very amused by them letting loose. By the end of the night, A is beyond stuffed and belching often, sometimes patting their overfull stomach to push them along and trying to make them as long as possible to make more room.

A drank far too much soda with a large fast food meal and had never felt like they needed to burp as badly as they did right after finishing it, yet were never able to push one up due to the volume of liquid and food weighing down on the air in their stomach. Hours pass, during which they get increasingly nauseous and feel generally bloated and ill. B finds them and begins to fret, forcing them to go and lay down. However, the moment A stands up, the shift in their position creates an opening in their stomach for the air to rush upwards and form a gargantuan belch. The relief that follows is incredible, leading A to (successfully) try and push out more big belches to ease the pressure on their stomach. B is shocked to hear such a nasty sound come from A but very happy that A is feeling better.

A has been very busy lately and tends to pick up takeout in the afternoon on the days that they work, leaving the poor, neglected leftovers and ingredients to rot in their fridge. One night a large storm forms while they're driving, and they head straight home to avoid any danger. Starving, they immediately tuck into the fridge when they get back, ravenously clearing it out. They wash it all down with the remainder of a six-pack they had in the back of the fridge, which fuels some tremendous eructations that bring them incredible relief.

A is more stuffed than they've ever been in their life. They're marvelling at their own size, it feels good to be that full, but also very painful. They find that they can't do anything in this state except moan over and over, some of which trail off into gigantic belches. It feels amazing so they moan in satisfaction, which brings up another massive belch.

[kirascottage]

hey! could you write a fluff fic of lip gallagher x reader? maybe something where he’s protective? love your writing! - nina <3

always choosing you

lip gallagher x f. reader

summary: lip saves you while at a party.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: soft and protective lip all in one, swearing, alcohol, mentions of trauma, non-consensual touching (just the waist), mentions of violence, kissing, mentions of sex (1x)

join my taglist here !

“Babe, this tastes disgusting.” You scowled while referring to the red solo cup in your hand. At your distasteful words, Lip’s head had whipped over to your twisted face, studying your wry grimace then looking at the poorly made drink most likely whipped up by a Sophomore that had no idea how to mix alcohol.

“Here, take mine.” Without a second thought, he quickly swapped the drink in your hand with his own, Vodka Cranberry. The drink he voluntarily handed you was a translucent shade of dull red and it fizzed at the top. Taking a sip, your brow arched in a consensus of the pleasant-tasting beverage.

To a family like the Gallagher’s, it was portrayed as a psychedelic for Lip Gallagher to be seen as a caring individual rather than a belligerent boy without any anger control. (especially to someone like Fiona) His emotional trauma merely enabling him to hide his concealed emotions from others, but like any other person, it took tremendous work that you were willing to put in.

“Hey, you wanna go soon?” His eyes naturally drifted around the party as he questioned you with a gentle hand sitting comfortably at your waist, his thumb moving slowly over the material of your shirt. “Sure, lower-class man parties are always a bummer.” You mutually agreed, glimpsing as to how his eyes travel across the room to a familiar redhead.

“I’m gonna go tell Ian, you good here?” His thumb pointed in a backwards direction as he walked the same way, you nodded in approval before he was off with his shoes tapping in sync to the music as he proceeded to the Kitchen while you stood in the living room against a wall.

It wasn’t usual for Lip to willingly leave you alone, especially in social situations like this one with intoxicated teenagers at your every corner. He once claimed a wannabe Tristan Dugray from Gilmore Girls would sweep you off your feet and carry you off to the sunset but you declared that would be spurious.

You picked at your nails for the first few minutes, growing bored as you waited, your fingers following the curvature of the cup along with the slight indentations and lines as your patience grew thin. Most likely Ian was stuck in a conversation with long-haired Milkovich, and he wouldn’t wanna leave just yet, his usual stall techniques including whining to his eldest brother.

Your evident impatience had swallowed you whole, eventually abandoning the remains of the drink at a battered table so your arms could cross in front of your chest and your foot tapped insanely quick against the floor. Now that tapping would've bothered anyone as the music vibrated through the drywall and the neighbours were nearing annoyance with the deliberation of filing a noise complaint.

As you were just about to set off to the kitchen, slender fingers gripped at your belt loops hauling you closer to the point your rear had struck the male stranger's chest.

“Hey! What the fu—“

“What’re you doing here all alone?” You attempted to harshly to move away at the poor tone of male seduction but the firm grip on your denim loops was restricting you from such.

“You see, I'm not alone so if you’d—“ You gestured impatiently to his hand with a curt glint in your tone whilst looking back at him; but, he cut you off with a brisk ‘S’alright, baby. I’ll take care of you.’ And no intention of letting you go.

You huffed with a squirm as his disengaged hand grasped at your waist where the emptiness of Lip’s hand had formerly been. “I have a fucking boyfriend—“ You inevitably began to yell over the music at the boy you could recognize as Clint Eastwood from your English class with a drunken smirk plastered onto his features.

This time it wasn’t his slurred voice cutting you off once again, it was a familiar rage-ridden Gallagher. “Get your hands off my fucking girlfriend.” Lip’s baritone became hoarser by the word as his hands hastily gripped at the boy's collared shirt whilst you stumbled by Ian who had briskly caught your arm hoisting you upright.

“Sorry! Dude, I didn’t know she—“

“Really? I clearly fucking heard her say she had a boyfriend,” His scowling brows drew together tightly and his lips pursed at the boy's face trembling in justified fear; as the scene grew larger with frequent yells occurring from Lip, most attendees of the party queued in on the scene.

“I guess idiots like you don’t know how to take a fucking hint.” Lip would’ve severely beaten his face in till Clint was due a trip to the ER but your magnifying grip at the back of his torso was enough to subdue his nerves and release the male off to the side and make his way to the car while gripping your hand the silent way there as the music grew fainter.

The car ride was silent, Lip’s hands gripped the wheel hard enough for distinctive marks to melt into the leather of the disk-shaped circle. He was well indeed sober, the only drink he had consumed was the one he had given to you and mostly full when it came into your possession.

When the car paused in the Gallagher driveway, wordlessly, Ian had left the car to give the both of you a moment, cautiously entering the chaotic household where most of his siblings had been asleep; Fiona being the only one awake where she had been watching a movie with V as Debbie laid on her lap. Yet, Lip hadn’t even moved his hands from the ignition; he had barely even blinked or twitched.

“Lip,” Your voice whispered, filling in the empty void of the vehicle. He silently looked over with his head slumped against the head seat, “What’s wrong?” Another whisper, your fingers rested comfortably on his knee.

“I just—“ He sighed, “—I don’t like the way he was touching you. Nobody should touch you like that.” He paused thoughtfully amid his heated sentence, clearly hesitant. Though, you remained silent as you were taciturnly aware that he was nowhere near finished.

“What if he wasn’t a creep and it was some guy that could offer you so much better than I could. I don’t want you to get hurt, but I also don’t want to hurt you.” His cerulean optics drifted over to his knee where you had been drawing circles over the denim, his anxious eyes remaining focused before you spoke up and his attention had diverted back to you.

“So don’t.” You offered a faint smile, “You’re not your parents, Lip. Take it one day at a time, if you don’t want to hurt me then you’re not going to.” You shook your head as you spoke.

“You could’ve knocked that guy into oblivion but you didn’t, and I know why you didn’t. I’m not gonna push you; Just take it day by day with me, okay?” He lethargically nodded in response, drinking in your words slowly as they enveloped his brain in a tight squeeze. Your monologue clinging to his mind as he would require those words later on.

Silently, you drifted your eyes back to the house, your eyes retaining on the Gallagher residence as he spoke. “Stay the night?”

You returned your head back to him and grinned in response, pecking his lips a few times before hopping out of the car as he followed. Trudging towards the wrought gate as he gripped at your hand, gently leading you through his house but pausing once to wave at Fiona which she reciprocated with a gleeful nod and a wave.

You had thought you entered his shared room rather quietly, changing into a shrunken pair of basketball shorts and a navy blue sweater both of which had belonged to your boyfriend. As you climbed the bunk, an adolescent boy had begun speaking with sleep lacing his words, “You better not be having sex, I'm trying to sleep.” Carl finished with a snore as he shuffled.

You both hastily muffled your laughs whilst cautiously climbing into the top bunk where his sheets laid messily due to him not making his bed the morning prior. You took very little time situating yourselves, the tip of your chin laying on his shoulder, and you were laid on your stomach. Meanwhile, his arm curled around your back and his stomach had faced the texturized ceiling.

You both laid there silently for a few minutes, maybe even a half-hour. Most likely Ian had passed out on the couch, and Carl’s snores had filled the room so it was a guarantee that it was safe to speak without any eavesdropping.

“I’ll always choose you.”

For a moment you thought he was asleep as well by how still he remained, till his face had carefully turned millimeters from yours. “I don’t care if it’s an Italian mafia man or some belligerent idiot from English class. I’ll always choose you, Philip Gallagher.” You muttered into his shoulder, a tinge of minor embarrassment creeping stealthily up your neck at the sappy confession.

“I’ll always choose you, too.” He whispered back, he wasn’t much for words but he could always muster up a considerable fraction of what you meant to him. Kissing the tip of your nose, he whispered again whilst placing his chin on your forehead. “Now go to sleep, or you’ll be bitchy in the morning.”

taglist: @miiamour @bugswrld @zzzfour @black-rose-29 @sprucewoodlover @bloodyrockwork @myalupinblack

[byuntrash101]

170599, baekhyun, working out, yes ofc > <

Hello! Thank you for participating! I hope you like it! I had a lot of fun with one ngl... Like it was hard to not make the smut longer than that because... yeah... lets say i enjoyed writing it haha 🥵🥵

Warnings - Smell kink, sweat licking, wall sex, getting caught kink

Dripping at the Gym - Taurus!Reader & Taurus!Baekhyun

The union between two Tauruses is not uncommon. Their similar energy and interests usually resonate well with this union. Many say the Taurus is lazy and that can be true if the Taurus finds themselves forced to put efforts in something they don’t like or find no interest in. However if it's something they are passionate about they will go to tremendous extent to get the job done.

That much is true for Baekhyun. He didn’t earn the title of Genius Idol for nothing, it's something he paid for with blood, sweat and tears. But that can’t be said about working out. It’s something he despises.

But you, on the other hand, love it. You love to break up a sweat and wake up sore the next morning. And honestly when Baekhyun decided to date his personal trainer he should have known you were going to move heaven and earth to get him to the gym more often.

And Taurus being the most stubborn sign of the zodiac it was quite the fight but Baekhyun eventually gave up. With his crazy schedule you only manage to drag him here at a very late hour.

So you coached him just as you would any other client. Pushed him when his arms were trembling, encouraged him when his legs were wobbly, until he was sweaty and panting.

“Can’t we take a break?” he asked, before taking a huge sip of cold water.

“You take a break and I show you the next exercises” Baekhyun pouted but still he paid close attention to you.

Maybe a little too much attention. He looked at your round ass when you showed the squats, he eyed your stomach when you stretched your arms and your sweaty shirt lifted, he watched your boobs bounce around when you did jumping jacks. Taurus, ruled by Venus, is the most sensual sign of the zodiac and right now it shows.

You noticed how he started pitching a tent on his loose shorts.

“Baekhy-” you went to playfully hit him in the shoulder but he intercepted your wrist in a strong grip.

“Honeyy~” he says with the lustful playful tone that makes your heart melt and your pussy throb. “I’m still a man and I’m still a lot stronger than you” he growls right before pushing you to the wall. He whips the shirt over your head leaving you in your biker shorts and sports bra.

“What if someone walks in?” you ask, nervousness lacing your voice.

But Baekhyun is already pulling on the zipper that holds your sports bra together. Your tits pop out of the sweat soaked material, lewdly dropping onto your chest.

“Then let them watch” he says as he dives in on them.

You should be fighting off but being a Taurus yourself, you just can’t resist the desire you both share for each other.

Baekhyun nibbles on your nipple and licks the sweat between your two glorious boobs, sniffing your scented skin.

“Fuck baby you taste so fucking good” then he pulls out your shorts and underswer in one go, letting them rest on one of your ankles before whipping out his had and thick cock. Then with force he lifts you by the ass and smacks your back against the cold concrete wall, like you don’t weigh anything at all, making you whimper.

“Do you see how strong you made me baby?” he says as he rubs himself on your wet folds before he aligns himself with you. As he enters you he grunts in pleasure in your ear. Cold breath huffed onto your sweaty and wet skin.

“Fuck baby your cunt is so fucking tight” he says as he starts rolling hips onto yours while he keeps you floating against the wall.

“Shit Baekhyun” you moan as he picks up the pace, soon completely ravaging your poor little pussy.

“Fuck baby want my cum?” he asks panting.

“Yes Please” you beg, your high coming near. “Please fill me up with your cum”

“Fuck you’re fucking tight” he says as he twitches inside you. “Your fucking cunt is milking me dry” he grunts, thrusts becoming sloppy before your clenching, orgasming pussy takes him over the edge too. He fills you up until the hot cum drips down your thighs and onto the floor, leaving a stain on the carpet of the gym.

Baekhyun finally sets you down.

“Shit, you’re heavy” he teases you and you finally give him the shoulder punch you intended to do before all his shenanigans. He groans in pain but you see his amused little smirk pulling at his pouting lips.

“You had it coming Byun”

No one teases like the Taurus.