#the other reason is to keep it true to last years drawing by not making it a fully fleshed out art piece

[f1byjessie]

IN FAIR VERONA ━━ CL16.

things are hard when you're the only female in a male-dominated space, and the newest driver for the newest team knows this best.

( charles leclerc x driver!schumacher!reader )

━━ part one.

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yourusername feeling blue?

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user i am gnawing at the bars of my enclosure right now 

user MOTHER IS MOTHERING SO HARD RN 😩

user y/n schumacher never misses

↳ user let’s be real here user the entire schumacher family never misses

↳ user y’all have seen mick’s most recent post too right??

user she is so gorgeous i am ILL

user god really does have his favorites huh 😭😭

↳ user this is undeniable proof

↳ user people this beautiful don’t actually exist i refuse to believe it

user every day i wake up and cry that i will never be as stunning and skilled as her

user formula 2 silly season has me losing my damn mind i swear 😫 i might as well be wearing a tin foil hat with the number of theories i’m following and the consistent blue themed posts y/n keeps dropping are NOT HELPING

↳ user not to add to your conspiracy madness, but it’s already confirmed that fred vesti is replacing jehan daruvala who’s moving to mp motorsport, and there are rumors that oliver bearman is also getting a prema seat which could mean that y/n schumacher is going to another team as well or leaving f2 entirely

↳ user a good chunk of the other teams have already revealed their driver lineup and none of them include schumacher, which doesn’t leave a lot of options IF the rumours are true

↳ user i can’t see her just leaving motorsports entirely considering she’s worked so hard to get where she is 🤔 which calls into question whether she’s moving to a different racing series

↳ user i really can’t see schumacher leaving tbh, especially since she’s been in f2 since 2017 and has established herself as a prema legend basically

↳ user the fact that she has been at prema for so long (and has gotten p2 in the f2 championship nearly every year since 2017) could also be proof that she’s moving on to bigger and better things

↳ user wait she’s been there HOW LONG??? since 2017??? as in she drove with charles leclerc, her brother mick, AND oscar piastri??? 🤯🤯🤯

↳ user she’s had a very long and successful career there, but it wouldn’t surprise me if she decided to retire from formula racing and move onto some other series that’s more woman-friendly, all things considered 🤷‍♀️. she has been runner-up every year that she’s competed, proven that she has what it takes to make it in a higher level of formula racing, and yet not a single f1 team has even offered her the opportunity to be even a test or reserve driver? 🤨 something isn’t adding up and i don’t want to say it’s because she’s a girl in motorsports but it’s kind of hard to ignore the proof when it’s put right in front of you.

↳ user guys the keyword is “if” here, of course, bc as fun as it is to speculate it is all still speculation and we won’t know for certain until it’s revealed by official sources. silly season is called that for a reason, and for all we known y/n is drawing out the announcement of her continued partnership with prema to stir up interest. she’s been in a very loyal and secure partnership with them for years now, a partnership that both she and prema seem very happy to keep considering just how long it’s lasted.

↳ user f2 is another series that once you win the championship you are no longer allowed to compete in, so prema may have kept her around to help carry her male teammates into first place until females are more accepted in formula racing so that she could eventually move up to f1

↳ user prema’s gonna announce her as their driver with vesti and you all are gonna look so fucking dumb for this 🙄🙄

user blue is HER color now 😍

maseratimsg 💙

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yourusername to the women of f1 that came before me, who paved the way, this is for you.

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maseratimsg When you race, they race with you 💙.

↳ yourusername 🫶💙

user Y/N SCHUMACHER??? IN FORMULA ONE??? IN 2023???

user i’ve been following her career for years now and this makes me so excited omg

↳ user me too!! she’ll be the first female to drive in f1 in over 30 years 🤭

user HARD LAUNCH BUT FOR THE 2023 GRID I GUESS

user when maserati announced they’d be getting back into formula racing i had no idea that also meant formula one as well?? they’ve got drivers in the 22-23 formula e season right now but this is how i found out about y/n schumacher driving for the 23 formula 1 season? i think i am going into shock

user 2023 might actually be a good year if this is how we’re gonna be going into it

user WOMEN IN MOTORSPORTS

user milf = man i love females-in-fast-cars

user been watching f1 since i was a kid, always wondered why there were no girls out there driving. this year i’ll get to turn on that tv and finally see someone who looks like me

↳ user it’s so fitting that maserati’s original f1 team also had the first woman f1 driver, and now they’ll be breaking barriers again by having another woman f1 driver in their first season back

↳ user i’m hoping they’ve got a good car ready cuz i wanna see y/n schumacher up on that podium telling everyone who didn’t believe she could do it just cuz she was a girl to eat shit and die 😤😤😤

user there’s a reason there aren’t any female drivers in f1. she’s doomed to fail just like all the others smh 🙄

↳ user the biggest reason is sexism, and y/n has consistently proved throughout her career that she is just as skilled if not more than her male counterparts. she works harder to make up for the physical disadvantages she has as a woman, and she still wipes the floor with the other drivers. she’s not “doomed to fail” she’s practically destined to succeed.

↳ user y/n has trained her ass off to be the best, and she’ll prove it when she gets out on the tarmac in bahrain, just you wait 🥱

↳ user she’s literally a 6-time f2 runner up??? sure, she didn’t win, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t still incredibly fucking impressive that she’s managed to get p2 against her male counterparts 6 YEARS IN A ROW 👀👀 her brother got p12 his first season and you know what she got? p2. she’s already raced with the likes of charles leclerc, zhou guanyu, yuki tsunoda, alex albon, george russell, lando norris, and a number of other very prominent formula racing names, and she held her own against them all incredibly well. she gave her own brother a real run for his money when they were teammates in 2019 and 2020, and in 2021 she was only a 9 point difference away from oscar piastri, whereas the p3 finalist was nearly a full 60 points below both of them. get out of here with that “there’s a reason there aren’t any female drivers in f1” bullshit, because the reason is misogyny 😒🙄

user not to be that person but like??? who else is lowkey excited for potential driver x driver romance?? 🫣

↳ user nah cuz i didn’t wanna make this about that but i’m actually totally ready to see who she has the best chemistry with on the grid 🫢 first hope is charles leclerc cuz they’d be a power couple hands down but also mayhaps max verstappen?? maybe??

↳ user totally agree babes a ferrari and maserati romeo and juliet love story would destroy me 😩

↳ user the parallels are already paralleling

↳ user to add to the parallels, her and charles were teammates at prema in 2017

↳ user OMG RIVALS TO STAR CROSSED LOVERS??? 😭😭

↳ user schumacher and leclerc are about to live out THE fanfic dream i can see it now

user can’t wait to see her mop the floor with these boys next year

user 2023 IS GONNA BE CRAZY 💙💙

user if i see any of those lads talk down about her or dismiss her just because she’s a woman, it’s on fucking sight 💀

↳ user they did that campaign in 2021 about equality in racing and i am BEGGING that it wasn’t just a media ploy and that they actually believe what they said about men AND women being able to drive

user this is about to be the best f1 season in history folks

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maseratimsg Prepare for trouble, and make it double ✌️💙.

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user SCHUMACHER TWINS TEAMMATES AGAIN???

user someone pinch me i think i’m in a dream 😳

↳ user i pinched myself and this is in fact very real

user we knew y/n would be driving for maserati but to also have MICK? maserati picked not one but TWO legacy drivers they have an agenda to push and they are certainly pushing it

↳ user yeah, an agenda to win 😌

↳ user genuinely just imagine how much natural talent and skill will be in that garage come the start of the season with michael schumacher’s twins…

↳ user back in 2020 when they raced together at prema, i saw someone joke that they were made into twins because no singular human being would be able to handle having that much racing prowess, so they were split up. but idk how much of it was actually a joke because they were scarily good as teammates? y/n has always finished no more than 10 points behind p1, and mick is a very powerful driver in his own right. putting them together and letting them drive as allies again instead of rivals will be a sight that’s for sure.

↳ user imagine being nerfed at birth cuz fate knew you’d be too powerful otherwise 😂😂😂

user blue is THEIR color apparently

user it’s the schumachers’ world and we’re just living in it

↳ user schumachers vs the entire f1 grid sounds like an insane clickbait article but the fact that it’ll be real in a few months is crazy

user everyone’s talking about y/n and mick but i’m stuck on the fact that there will finally be 11 teams driving for f1 again

↳ user maserati really said fuck the expectations

↳ user maserati’s gonna get a 1-2 with the schumachers in their first year back i’m calling it now 🤪🤪

↳ user first female driver in f1 in 30 years and first 11th team to drive in f1 since 2016, and i’m betting it’ll be first ever female driver to podium in f1 and first ever female driver to win in f1 too because i’ve seen y/n schumacher’s skill and i guarantee that if she’s actually given the ability to go all out then she’s gonna be a force to be reckoned with

user hope they’ve got a good car planned cuz i wanna see these two put up a good fight

user verstappen better watch his back 👀

user Y/N SCHUMACHER WDC 2023

user at least mick got to drive with seb still on the grid, but i’m actually heartbroken that y/n won’t be able to 😔

↳ user and kimi too

↳ user i think the only drivers left are hamilton and alonso no? from before their dad retired i mean

↳ user perez, hulkenberg, and ricciardo too, but they only drove on the same grid as michael schumacher for a couple years

↳ user i imagine it would suck to lose but i personally would be very proud to see my old friend’s kids standing on a podium above me or beside me 🥹

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mickschumacher from beating you into this world, to beating you in karting (both professionally and casually), i'm so proud to have the chance to beat you in formula 1 too

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yourusername those are fighting words micky 🤨

↳ mickschumacher not sure what you mean 😊

↳ yourusername it’s on sight 👊

user GUYSSS JUST THINK ABOUT THE PADDOCK INTERACTIONS BETWEEN THESE TWO

↳ user the media days boutta be crazyyyy

↳ user i’m imagining the chaos of not just having siblings on the grid together, but twins specifically, and i’m already getting a migraine on behalf of whoever their pr officers are 😅😭

↳ user 2023 is the year they make a geneva convention for the grid prank wars and it’s gonna be the because of the schumachers

user baby photos oh i am unwell 🙃

↳ user i’ve caught a nasty case of baby fever i fear

↳ user they’re both menaces as adults, i wonder how bad they were as little kids

↳ user baby fever cured methinks 😶

user 💙💙💙 MICK P1 2023 💙💙💙

user mick being proud to race with his sister but also making it well known that he isn’t gonna take it easy on her is the type of sibling rivalry content i’m looking forward to seeing this season

↳ user i need all the drivers to have this same mentality bc i know mick is gonna recognize her as the threat that she is, but if any of those lads underestimate her just bc she’s a girl, then their karma will come in the form of eating the dust of y/n schumacher’s car

↳ user PREACH 🙌🙏

charlesleclerc cannot wait to have you both on track this year

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @casperlikej

━━ a/n: first and foremost, happy international women's day! i've had this sitting around for a little while now and decided that today would be the perfect day to finally share it, what with the themes of women empowerment and breaking the glass ceiling. my main priority will still be my lando series until i can get that finished, but updates for this might appear in between on occasion. i also wanna take a moment just to appreciate the sheer amount of research that went into this, finding a team that would reasonably work well as an 11th team for formula 1 was a bit difficult, but i'm not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth when maserati fits pretty perfectly. also, as a twin myself, i'm incapable of writing a sibling duo that aren't also twins, and i have zero shame about that. anyways, i'm very excited for this, and i hope everyone else is as well!

[runa-falls]

cocktails

gif from @pirateherokillian

pairing: jake lockley x shy!reader

summary: you finally gain enough courage to make a move on your best friend

cw: explicit (18+), dub-con (reader is tipsy), afab!reader, dry humping to piv pipeline, fingering, multiple orgasms, longing/pining losers, love (?), push-over!jake, needy!reader, 'just the tip' is never just the tip, alcohol consumption, pet names, daddy kink, creampie, fluff :3 -- not beta-read

wc: 5.1k

a/n: pls, it was never supposed to be this long. i'm sorry for taking FOREVER to write this. anyways, this is based off my blabbering in discord -- i dedicate this to my whores (affectionate) <3

mk masterlist | main masterlist

----

You don’t drink. 

At least not in front of Jake. 

Alcohol makes you…indulgent, to say the least, and that’s a side you’ve been holding back from your best friend. 

Yes, you’ve had a drink or two at some group hangouts in the past, but this, you, Jake, and a few bottles of gifted wine, surprisingly has never happened in the past. You’ve made sure of it.

What almost makes it worse is that Jake’s always been a sweetheart about your choices to avoid drinking around him. After your first few bouts of excuses and timid declines, he doesn’t pressure you to keep up with him when he’s knocking back shots or drinking pitchers of beer. 

Whenever your other friends press another drink into your hand, he subtly takes it for you, drinking it in large gulps before returning the glass from your hand. And when he pulls away, his fingers always find a way to graze against yours. Thankfully the bars are usually dimly lit so he can’t see the blush heating at your cheeks. 

He doesn’t realize it’s because of him. He’s the reason bartenders give you weird looks when you ask for watered-down vodka cranberries or why you’re always the last one standing in your friend group whenever you go out. This restraint around alcohol has gone on for years all because you harbor an intense attraction for your best friend. 

It didn’t start that way. He crashed into your quiet life and obliterated the dynamics of your friend group. When you first met him, you thought his cocky and blasé attitude was overcompensating for something.

He’s always been a natural sweet talker, not afraid to approach people and get what he wants, but it seemed too good to be true. He’s too charismatic, too interested in the dull life you live, how did he dig out a hole and place himself so easily in your life?

Easily, too easily, you fell for his sweet words, words that would inevitably draw you into his orbit and leave you hanging off of every syllable. 

You learned that no matter what he says, or does, he’s just being friendly. He’s just like that with everyone. It means nothing when he gives you a cheeky grin from across the bar or when he consistently insists on walking you home at night. Sure, he might stick closer to your side than anyone else's, but it’s just because you’re best friends. Right?

Of course, girls have tried and failed to lock down your best friend, misinterpreting his outgoing personality as him propositioning them. And they always come to you – whining over his lack of interest, the sudden and unexpected rejection of their advances, and grappling for any advice from his girl best friend. 

“He’s single, isn’t he?” The words are said over the thin rim of a martini glass. She glances over at you with hopeful eyes framed by beautifully dark lashes. 

You barely knew the girl’s name, but she offered to buy you a drink (a shirley temple) so you stayed for the conversation, however, you weren’t expecting the topic to circle back to Jake. But after watching her down a couple of martinis, gushing more and more about the man you’ve been pining after for an eon, you felt too bad to leave her. 

“Um…as far as I know.” It’s a little uncomfortable, talking about Jake like you’re his keeper.

“Then – then why won’t he go out – or even hook up with me?” Her voice has gotten louder with the exasperation of her inquiries. You look around at the bar, hoping she can keep it together before you’re kicked out for causing a ruckus. 

“Look, I don’t know if I’m the best –”

“But you’re his best friend, right?”

“Yes, but –”

“What’s his type?”

His type?

God, you wish you knew. It would make things a lot easier for yourself (and the world). But you genuinely don’t know. You’ve never seen him with a girl. Sure, he could be hooking up on the side, but why would he tell you?

You look down at your glass. All that’s left is ice, melting into an amalgam of pink-tinted liquid around the one maraschino cherry you refuse to eat. 

“I don’t know.” You mumble.

—

You’re already through a bottle and a half, lounging comfortably on the overstuffed couch in your living room. Something is playing on the TV but it’s all a blur behind the feeling of his thigh pressing against yours. 

Jake has never been afraid of showing his affection through physical means, whether it’s greeting ladies with a friendly peck on the cheek or ruffling one of the guy’s hair when he goes by. It’s natural to him. Casual.

But with you, he’s mostly hands-off. 

It’s not that you deign to feel his touch, to feel the scratchiness of his whiskers rub against the edge of your hairline, or lower against the sensitive skin of your throat, you just can’t control your reactions when he does it. Even the light touch of his hand against your lower back when he guides you has you standing straighter. 

He noticed your strong reactions to him and backed off, assuming you were uncomfortable or unused to friendly touches. And it was fine until you would do anything to feel him against you again, just one more time. It’s desperate, really, but you don’t really care when he looks at you with those cocoa-butter eyes. 

And now, he’s closer than ever but still hands-off. He politely sits next to you, one arm slung over the back of the couch and the other in his lap. But not touching you. 

He’s been making commentary about the dumb hallmark movie you impulsively rented, pointing out all the unrealistic plot conveniences and bright red flags that the main character blatantly ignores. He seems relaxed. 

You aren’t.

Two stained wine glasses sit on the coffee table, dangerously close to the edge, still holding a sip of liquid. You can barely make out the intricate print of his lips on the edge of the cup, highlighted by the brightness of the hallmark snow scene. 

You want so badly to steal the glass away and lick up the residual bitter-sweetness of the wine that’s touched his lips. To taste him, even indirectly. Or directly. Lick the sweetness straight from the source, tongue intermingling with him as he takes just as much from you. You feel yourself pulse from that image alone.

“Bunny?” Heat prickles against the back of your neck as you realize how far away your brain is, thinking such filthy and depraved thoughts of the man who is sitting right next to you. 

He dotes on you like a person would their favorite pet cat. He calls you pet names, ones that make you bite your tongue and hide your face in your hands. Bunny was the first one and the one he uses the most. 

It came out of nowhere, really. You were both at a small house party and Jake convinced you to join his team in a game of beer pong. You were still a bit nervous around him, still surprised when he’d seek you out for a conversation or to get your opinion on something entirely irrelevant. 

You told him upfront that your hand-eye coordination leaves much to be desired, but he was determined to teach you. The first few throws were pitiful, so pitiful, in fact, that the other team gave you a freebie to make up for it. 

“Here, lemme give you a hand.” You couldn’t even react before he was sidled behind you, his chest nearly flush against your shoulder as his hand wrapped around your wrist. Your body is frozen, soaking in the overwhelming closeness.

You can barely decipher the individual cups of beer with his voice low behind your ear as he directs you, “Keep it right….there” He lets go of your arm and you already miss his touch, “and put a little more power into your throw.” 

He steps back, giving you space to take a breath and refocus. 

You throw it, more mechanical than you would’ve liked, but it – miraculously – goes in. 

Immediately you turn around to get his reaction, the praise that you secretly crave from a man you barely know. 

He grins down at you, “You’re a natural, bunny.” 

And the nickname stuck.

You look over at him, lazily blinking up to meet his fond gaze, “Hm?” You feel all fuzzy inside, overexcited yet pinned down by the unexplainable need to stay close to him. 

He smirks down at you, arm subtly lowering to barely touch the back of your head, “What’cha thinkin’ about, sweetheart?” You try to lean into the feeling of his arm, hoping that if you ease into it, he won’t notice. “You had this… faraway look in your eyes for a moment.”

Oh, he noticed. But there’s no way he knows what you were thinking, right? A flash of embarrassment stings hot in your cheeks. You don’t think when you shyly nuzzle your face into his bicep to avoid his curious eyes, “I think I just zoned out or something.”

He hums, “You tired?” You turn your face to look at him, cheek resting against him. God, he smells so good. You never want to move from this spot. “Want me to tuck you in?” His voice coos teasingly, but you soak in the sweetness of it. He can be so soft sometimes.

Scrambled words echo in your mind: But if you go to bed, you’ll leave. You’ll take your arm out from under me and leave me here to think about you, all alone. Why can’t you just – Your thoughts quickly dissipate when he pulls you closer to him, hand at your waist to press your body against his.

Your hand presses delicately against his chest in surprise and you can barely feel the soft thrum of his heartbeat underneath the firmness of his muscles.

You softly shake your head, “Not tired.”

“Sure, baby.” 

Baby. 

That’s new. 

Your thighs involuntarily press together with how good it sounds coming from his lips. Directed at you. Somehow, even with all the pet names he’s given you throughout the span of your friendship, this one hits home.

He says it with the casualness of a boyfriend and tenderness of a lover. You can almost feel him panting it against the crook of your neck as he pushes inside of you, hand clutching yours as his hips roll perfectly against yours. 

You don’t even realize your legs are rubbing together like a cricket at dusk until a warm hand wraps around the top of your thigh. He pulls them apart, spreading your legs like you’ve always dreamed he would. Despite the suggestive position, you still whine at the loss of friction, thoughtlessly fighting against the insisting tug of his hand.

He hushes you gently, a soft tone barely easing your frustration. You latch your fingers onto his wrist, attempting to guide him to the spot that you really need him to touch, but he barely budges. His grip on your thigh tightens when his name drips brokenly from your lips. 

“J-Jake…” 

“Sweetheart, stop.”

“But –”

“Please.” Jake looks down at you with a pained expression, all past chivalry betrayed by the darkness pooled in his eyes.

You look up at him with misty eyes and flushed skin, innocence in the palm of his hand. “I need you.” You bite your lip at your admission, stained red from the wine, and he can’t take his eyes off of you. You pull at him again and this time he lets you. Both of you look down as his hand cups you over your shorts.

“You’re too drunk right now.” The whispered attempt of resistance falls on deaf ears as you arch your hips into his touch. Neither of you notice that the movie ended, leaving you in a silence where only the exchange of breathless pants can be heard. 

“Touch me.” You whine, desperate for anything. Desperate just to be accepted by him.

His gaze briefly flicks up from where he’s touching to regard your eagerness with half-lidded eyes. He shakes his head and looks away like he’s looking for answers on the blank wall next to him. “I…shouldn’t.” 

You start to panic when you feel his hand pull away. It can’t end like this. You hold onto his wrist when a particularly needy idea pops into your mind. If he doesn’t want to ‘defile’ you, then fine. You’ll do it yourself.

“I…c-could i just rub myself against you?” You berate yourself for sounding so meek, so unsure, but you’ve never done anything like this before, never had to take control of the situation. “Like, if you don’t want to…um, touch me.” He looks at you wordlessly, gorgeous lips parted at your suggestion.

His tongue brushes over his bottom lip, “I– Okay, sure…” 

With his permission, you push up against the couch to get up and straddle over him. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting it with how his hands barely hover over your body like he’s unsure whether he wants to pull you closer or shove you off his lap. “Is this okay?” 

“Yeah.” He sounds strained, “But just for a little bit, alright?” 

“Ok.” You promise though you’re sure that once you get a taste, you’ll never want to stop. You have to make this good for him so he’ll want you back.

You settle against him, body thrumming with anticipation when your clothed cunt meets the prominent hardness under his jeans. So he does want it. His hands clasp onto your waist when you start to move over him, hips experimentally rolling against his.

Jake watches you move over him with a look of deep hunger and awe. It’s endearing how shy you are, even now grinding on his lap. Your movements are clumsy – unpracticed as you desperately try to chase that spark that’ll satisfy the heat buried deep down inside of you. 

“That good, baby?” 

You nod, mewling quietly as the seam of his jeans drags perfectly against your clit. Pleasure pools in your stomach, nudging you closer and closer to the edge. You hold onto his shoulders as you work yourself over him, panting from your effort. He starts to cant his hips upwards to meet your thrusts, pressing his erection roughly against your core to show you just how much he wants you. 

All you can think of is how good it would feel to have him bare against you, skin to skin. When you meet your peak, body hot and trembling as you rub against him, the end never comes. It’s not enough. You’re just left teetering at the top with no drop in sight.

You huff, “Jake, can I – just…please.” You let your hands drop from his shoulders to start working on his belt.

“What is it bunny, what do you need?” He looks so good under you with his wrinkled shirt unbuttoned just so to give you a peak of his collarbone and the newly open belt hanging from the loops in his tight jeans. You undo the button, fingers briefly fumbling as your knuckle brushes against his bulge.

“Just need to feel you.” You paw at the waist of his pants, trying to subtly indicate that you need his help to take them off. But he sits there and smiles sweetly at your frustrated huffs. 

“And what about me?” He says in a teasing drawl. He drags you closer to him and cups your face until your lips nearly meet yours. He’s so close that you can make out the light dusting of freckles that grace his nose and cheeks. Amber eyes bore into yours as he whispers, “You’re using my body and haven’t even given me a kiss yet.”

“Oh.” Your gaze drops to his lips, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, baby.” He leans in, “just kiss me.” Your eyes flutter close when you meet the softness of his lips. You immediately melt into the gentle caress of his hand on your jaw with a sigh as he desperately keeps you close. 

Jake groans, drinking in the sweetness of your lips, a taste of pure heaven melting on the tip of his tongue, before hungrily deepening the kiss. He licks against the seam of your mouth, begging you to open yourself up to him. You surrender yourself to him, letting him slide in and taste you from the inside out. 

Your hands move up from his shoulders to his soft curls, tugging eagerly in an attempt to hear the soft groan that rumbles in his chest. He nips at your bottom lip, suckling it until it’s pink and tender, wanting to leave a mark so you’ll always think of him. He can’t help but press against you when you whimper for him, grinding eagerly against your center, wishing he was inside of you instead.  

“Just the tip.” You mumble it against his lips. He’s too far gone to clearly hear what you said, lost in a thick fog of awe, lust, and…love. At his silence, you pull away to look at him, scared you’re asking for too much. “Jake.” He nods thoughtlessly, chasing your lips, already missing your taste. He almost whines when you pull away from his touch, but quickly comes back to reality when he sees the way you’re nervously looking at him. 

He squeezes your waist comfortingly, “Anything you want, bunny.” You smile at the pet name and gratefully peck his lips. He tries to deepen the kiss, hand already pressing against the back of your head, but you cheekily pull away before he gets too far. You stand up, ignoring his objections and clingy touches as you get off of his lap. 

You fluidly slip your shirt over your head before carelessly dropping it to the floor behind you. There’s fire in his eyes as he sits back on the couch and watches you reveal the cute bra that cups you so perfectly. You tease the edge of your waistband as you look down at him, “Off, please.” You gesture at his jeans. He follows your directions, quickly shimmying his pants off, eyes on you the whole time.

You follow him, tugging your shorts off to show him the matching panties. You squeak when warm hands abruptly pull you to the couch, eagerly wandering over your waist and hips as he buries his face against your neck. 

“Can’t help it, baby,” His touch drifts up to cup the underside of your tits, trailing carefully over the curve to memorize the shape of you. “You’re just so fucking pretty.” He groans hot and heavy against your neck as he squeezes your softness. 

You’re back on top of him, naked thighs draped over his, skin against skin, and now, you can feel all of him. He’s pressed so deliciously against your core, pulsing with pure desire and heat. The only thing separating the two of you is fading self-control and a pair of thin panties.

His mustache tickles against your throat as his lips drift over your pulse point. He presses heady kisses against the edge of your jaw, gauging where your most tender spots are. 

“Oh–!” Your thighs clench around him when he touches a particularly delicate area near your ear. He gently nips at the spot, holding you tighter when you moan at the feeling.

Jake lets out a broken groan when you reach between your bodies and take him into your hand. He tries to continue giving your body loving attention with his lips, but his kisses get messy, dragging lazily over your shoulder and collarbone, with how distracted he is by your touch. He has to pull away for a breather and hold himself back from thrusting into your fist when you squeeze him teasingly at the base. 

“Bunny…” You both look down and watch as your smaller hand slowly strokes him. His cock is flush with need, leaking so prettily as you try your hardest to make it good for him. You slip your other hand under his shirt, running your fingers against his coarse happy trail to his rippling muscles. The couch groans next to you as he harshly grips the arm, barely holding himself back with white knuckles. “Oh, f-fuck.” His body stiffens under you as you brush your thumb against the sensitive underside of the tip. 

You tenderly massage the spot, watching in awe as he continues to spill over your fingers, making a mess that drips onto your inner thighs and the edge of his shirt. He groans at the sight, his cock throbbing desperately in your hold.

As beads of white paint your fingers, your mouth waters just thinking about how he tastes. You feel ravenous to see him cum, to watch how easily you can ruin him. “H-hold on, cariño. Give me a second.” Jake chokes out. His hips stutter under you before he pulls your hand away.

"Whyy." You whine, pouting up at him with starry eyes. You reach for him again with the hand he isn’t holding onto, brushing your fingers against his sensitive cock. He shudders for you with a broken groan. 

“I'm close-- just – stop for a moment –” Both hands are pinned to your side as Jake’s chest heaves under his shirt. He rests his head back against the couch, eyes closed as he struggles to hold himself back. 

“But…I want you to.”

“I know, baby,” He lifts his head, dark eyes boring into yours, and pulls your hands behind you. You squirm in his lap, back arching at the position, suddenly remembering your own desperation. It feels good to be bound by his hands, to let him do whatever he wants to your body. “But I don’t wanna finish if it isn’t in you.” 

Your face heats in embarrassment. “Oh.” 

Jake picks up on your sudden shyness immediately. 

“You like that, don’t you, bunny?” He smirks, “The thought of me filling you up, then dripping out of you?”

You bite your lip, “A little bit.”

“A little, hm?” He ponders, “Well why don’t we try it out and see.” Your thighs clench around him at the idea.

“Ok.”

“Sit up, let me see how wet you are.” He helps you raise yourself on your knees so you’re hovering over his lap. Letting go of your wrists, he drags his thumb against your clothed cunt; The fabric has a darkened splotch along your opening, teasing him with evidence of your lust. “Aw, sweetheart, you’re soaked…” He nudges your panties to the side, slipping his fingers against your wet opening. “Gonna ruin these pretty little panties, hm?” You nod wordlessly, hips desperately pushing against his touch.

He gently slides against your dripping entrance, making a mess of your cunt with teasing circling motions. Wet, decadent sounds fill the limited space between you as his fingers prod ever so slightly against the spot where you need him most.  A helpless sound is pushed out of you when he finally eases two fingers inside of you.

“Is that good, bunny?” He coos as he slowly fucks his fingers into you. It’s only his fingers, but he’s already filling you up so deliciously. His dark eyes are hungrily locked on how he fills you up over and over again, slick dripping down his knuckles and over his palm. “Hm?” 

You nod again, brain foggy with pleasure. “Yes, J–” You can barely get a word out when he curls his fingers up, pressing so sweetly and deep against the sensitive walls of your cunt. You have to stop yourself from wrapping your legs around his wrist, it feels so good. “Uh–!” You almost fall over and have to hold onto his shoulders for support as he begins to speed up. 

“That’s it, baby…” Your grip on his shoulders tightens as he rapidly presses against your g-spot. You’re already hurdling towards the edge and he can feel it with how you start to clench around his fingers. “Make a mess of my hand..” Within a handful of thrusts, you’re gasping out with pleasure, your thighs shaking over him. He takes his hand away and holds you against him to keep you sitting upright as your body is overtaken with euphoria. You pant against his shoulder, trying to gather your senses. 

You can feel him under you, hard and wanting, throbbing as you whimper and arch against him, letting the pleasure work through your body. Even when you’re barely coming down from an orgasm, you’re still longing to be filled with something more. But he ignores his own needs, instead focusing on you, softly pecking the top of your head and rubbing comforting circles against your arms. 

You lift your head from his chest to look at him, taking in his flushed cheeks and dark eyes. Jake stares right back, unabashedly, in awe. “You’re so good to me, bunny.” You shiver at the praise. At the comfort. You shyly divert your eyes to stare at the marks you’ve left on his shoulders. 

“Only for you, Jake.” You don’t see it, but his lips lift into a small smile at your words. 

His hands drift down from your arms to hold you by the waist. “Only for me.” He echos, solidifying the statement. 

You gasp when he suddenly presses you down against his cock. Looking back up at him, he meets your wide eyes with a mischievous grin, hips rolling teasingly against yours. “And I’m all yours.” You position yourself over him all while keeping eye contact, wanting to drink in every microexpression on his face. 

“Yes.” You both sigh as he barely brushes against your wet opening. He takes a deep breath, clutching your hips as you begin your descent.

Your body slowly manages to swallow the first inch of him. And – oh – it’s so much better than you expected. He stretches you so fully, even barely inside of you, filling you exactly how you need him to. 

You let out a strained whimper from the back of your throat as you slowly lower yourself onto his lap. You whine as your body desperately clenches and stretches to accommodate him inside of you. His hold on your hips tightens as your thighs meet his, now fully impaled by his hard cock.  

“I thought it was ‘just the tip’.” Jake tries to tease, his deep voice gravelly with lust, but it comes out as more of a groan than a taunt.

You slowly shake your head, body trembling as you get used to the feeling of him inside of you. 

“You said you’re all mine, daddy.” The words practically melt from your lips, lethargic with heat. It catches him off guard. You moan, hips slowly moving over him to feel him deeper inside. “M-mine,” You repeat with a pant, so lost in desperation that you don’t even notice the way he’s looking at you, frozen in place. 

“I-I did say that, didn’t I?” He doesn’t know what else to say, brain overheating from your ministrations. You’ve never called him a pet name before, let alone used the word ‘daddy’ anywhere near him. You’ve always been a shy little bunny around him, always preciously out of reach, a tease to fantasize about, but now you’re wrapped around him, moaning beautifully destructive words. 

What really surprises him is the way he’s eagerly throbbing inside of you from that word. Desperate thoughts float in his mind: She wants me to take care of her, she needs me.

“Fuck me.” He groans to himself, willing his body to hold back from cumming inside of you right then and there. 

“P-please.” You beg with a broken voice, thinking he’s talking to you. Jake just nods understandingly and holds you closer with an arm wrapped around your torso, wanting to feel your whole body against his. He starts off slow, pressing up into your kneeling body with measured thrusts as he dots kisses along your neck and shoulders. You sigh something wistful before meeting his movements, eagerly lifting your hips against him. 

“God, bunny, you feel so good.” He can't help it, you’re all-encompassing like this, with your pretty little sighs and panted breaths, it’s everything he’s ever wanted, so he starts to speed up, projecting his desperation into his actions. Your back arches at the change of pace as he pumps into you, and it only makes him feel deeper. “So tight around me.” He pushes against your front wall on every thrust and you swear it makes you see stars. 

Your clit inevitably rubs against him as your bodies move with each other and it takes your pleasure to another level. You’re sure the sounds you’re making verge on embarrassing, but he seems to eat them up anyway. “Ah, right there--! Jake –”

“No, bunny,” He grits out, “It’s daddy.”

You whimper, “Daddy – ” He feels you flutter deliciously around him as your head begins to lull backward. He groans as your cunt sucks him deep inside, desperately milking his cock as you’re seized by ecstasy.

“Fucking take it, sweetheart.” 

“I-I think m’gonna…” Your eyes roll back before you can finish your sentence and white fills your vision. You let out a keening sound as you gush over him, thighs clenched around his as your second high moves through you. 

His eyes squeeze shut as he gives in and starts fucking you at a punishing pace. Your mouth drops open around an empty moan. You can only hold onto him as he takes what he wants from your body, intensifying your orgasm with sloppy thrusts. With a few more upward pushes, he lets out a breathy grunt and finishes inside of you, painting your walls with his warmth. 

You both stay in this position for a little longer. 

You can feel Jake’s heart beat rapidly against your chest as you cuddle against him. He’s still recovering from the onslaught of sensations and emotions. Both of you are sticky with sweat and slick, but neither of you care. His cock is still inside of you, keeping his cum locked inside as you dutifully warm him with your cunt. 

“Such a pretty girl…” He croons, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. He looks down at you with such sincerity in his eyes, that it’s almost overwhelming. You bite your lip nervously at the compliment and attempt to look away, but before you can, he’s tilting your face up with the light touch of a finger, “Really? You’re gonna act all shy with my cock still in you?”

His words only make you squirm on top of him. He nearly chokes at the accidental stimulation. 

“You can’t just say stuff like that.” Your voice is small and cute.

“Then how am I supposed to fluster my girl?” 

Your eyes widen. His girl? 

“Your girl?”

“My girl.” He hums with a small smile before placing a soft kiss on your lips.

[innaillus]

Drawing Ryōmen Sukuna

Development notes

This post has been in the making since last year, before the manga has reached its current arc. My aim was to respond to comments that pointed out that my version of that time didn't look like the one in the anime. I calculate everything I do and the way I do it. My current goal is to share my thoughts on the development of my take on him - simply because I'm a nerd when it comes to anatomy and I love figuring things out. It involves a lot of thinking, questioning, analysis, dissecting information and building theories. So I totally understand if it's not anyone's cup of tea.

MANGA SPOILER WARNING

The very beginning

I used to have a serious case of lack of self-confidence. My earliest art of Sukuna dates back to 2021, but it always felt like my skills are not worthy of this particular character. I never shared my art. I was also struggling to find my artistic voice. I was obsessed with the idea of semi-realism, but even if I managed to pull it off after weeks of stylisation practices, I didn't like the results.

Due to personal reasons, I stopped trying to draw him for a long time.

The development of "my" version

It was an entirely conscious decision to draw him differently.

The top reasons for the change was that I didn't want to sexualise him in his host, Yuuji, who is a minor. Back then I thought he inflicted the deformation on himself (extra limbs, eyes, etc), for the sake of efficiency, and I was curious what he looked like before that - or what he would look like in a civilised environment.

During the process, I considered a number of factors:

the beauty standard of the other JJK men - I wanted him to fit the lineup - his original appearance made him stand out quite much

in a setting where he adheres to the rules of society, more or less, I believe his MBTI personality type (ENTJ) would dictate a lot of his choices when it comes to appearance, at least to a certain extent. I thought he would choose to have an appearance that fits the beauty standards of the era

I kept his tattoos because it's a very distinguishing feature of him, but I also exercise freedom in the way I draw them, to make them as stylish as possible

Reincarnation

I used to believe once he reincarnates, his proportions would be closer to that of a "normal" human, even if he has some extra limbs. However, his size and features are above and beyond of what we are used to, and even the story emphasises their malformed appearance. So a a whole new era of Sukuna started in my art. I chose my favourite manga panels of him and mix-and-matched the most attractive features into a figure that I consider on the fine edge of monstrosity and unconventional handsomeness.

Even when I draw him with a regular number of limbs, I keep his usual mass and proportions. I dubbed this form "true gains" form.

I also realised that some of the tattoos Yuuji's body displayed was a product of the partial reincarnation stage, like we see it on Tsumiki's forehead.

NOTE: Did anyone notice that Sukuna is getting progressively more and more human/handsome in the manga? When he took over Megumi's body, I also noticed that as the story progressed, he started to look older and more mature. I'm curious of it was a conscious decision.

Twin dilemma and speculations

According to the Japanese wikipedia page, the mythical figure Sukuna could have been a conjoined twin. Despite my extensive digging in the matter, I was shocked by the recent lore drop.

My question: what does Sukuna look like in a universe where he did not absorb his twin in the womb during development?

It hasn't been confirmed, but I find it very possible now that he was born with his extra limbs, eyes and mouth, as well as the deformed, wide features. (...as opposed to my first theory about him altering his own body for the sake of efficiency)

This, however, would mean that in a universe where both him and his brother are born healthily, he would look different. There is the obvious lack of extra arms, eyes and mouth - but I believe he would also be closer to the JJK beauty standard of men, as far as proportions go (eg. more narrow face, anime-esque nose, larger eyes).

At first I was hesitant to accept this idea, as I'm very attached to the 4-arm hulk / "true gains" form now, but then I realised: this would mean that "my"version of him actually has logically explainable place in at least an alternate universe.

Thank you if you got this far.

I may edit this post later. Let's see where the story takes us.

[wolfiesmoon]

Eyes on me

floyd x gn!reader

Its rlly hard writing this w one hand because i had a bit of a medical emergency last night (in fact i'm in the hospital as i'm typing this) but we survive

so imagine my surprise when i got my baby boy floyd in all his basketball glory (as a consolation from the sevens i assume)

long story short this calls for a floyd fic

(also i use the word stadium a lot here, by that i mean a more small, local stadium and not one of those big NBA league ones)

"I told you, I'm not playing." Floyd crossed his arms and pouted like a little toddler. "Floyd. This is an important match. We have no time for one of your tantrums." Jamil tried reasoning with him, but it was all for naught. It seems like Floyd is inconsolable right now.

The coach was very close to losing it at this point. The match was drawing closer and closer and Floyd's mood was getting worse and worse.

The team could already hear the people coming into the stadium.

"What are you even so sad about?" Ace questioned, getting a bit annoyed with Floyd.

"Little Shrimpy promised to come see me but isn't here yet... " Floyd glanced at the people sitting on the bleachers, searching for your face in the crowd. When he didn't see you, his pout increased.

"... That's why you're refusing to play?" Jamil couldn't believe his ears. Neither could anyone else in the club right now. Is this dude really 17 years old? He seems like a bit of an overgrown 5 year old right now.

Well, the coach knew he was taking a risk when placing Floyd on the team seeing as things like this are very likely to happen. All he can do now is hope you actually show up so he won't have one potentially amazing player less.

.

"Oh crap, Floyd's match! I almost forgot!" You quickly got up, startling your classmates. You had to stay with some of them to work on a group project professor Crewel gave you. "Anyone wanna come watch basketball with me?"

A few of your classmates agreed to go while others said they had plans to get to.

And so you went.

"Can't believe you forgot it, idiot." Grim scolded you. "Oh yeah? and who was the one sleeping away in my lap while we had to do all the work?" you shot back and he grumbled something under his breath as a response.

The two classmates going with you huffed in amusement at your reply.

By now, you were already at the entrance to the stadium. You saw Floyd play before at practice and you know how good he can get when he's fired up. But you also know how he can be when the opposite is true.

You just hope he's in a good mood right now. If he isn't, you'll just cheer for him until he is.

You sat down on the bleachers, chatting with your classmates about the project as you waited for the match to start.

.

"Hey, isn't that the Prefect right the-ack!" Ace got pushed away by Floyd who's eyes immediately scanned the bleachers again. When he saw you, his eyes lit up and a wide smile spread across his face.

"Shrimpy is here!~" the sudden change in mood surprised even the coach. Well, he supposes the issue is solved now.

His eyes darkened, however, when he saw you laughing with your classmates. You're here for him, not some rando dudes from your class.

Suddenly, he feels determined to play so well you won't take your eyes off him for even a second. He'll make sure of it.

"Hey. We're going to beat the other team so hard they cry. Got it?" he suggested with a horrifying expression on his face. The entire team felt too afraid to do anything but nod in agreement.

That's the second mood change he had in a matter of 30 seconds. Now the entire team is just generally concerned for him.

As the NRC team walked out, you smiled at Floyd and waved to him, Grim raising his little paw to wave too. He smiled back at you widely, flailing his arms around like an excited child at you. When he looked away, however, his expression darkened once more.

Better keep your eyes on him the whole time or someone from the other team might not make it out unscathed.

[the-boy-meets-evil]

all i want for christmas - xmh (the8)

(where you want minghao for secret santa so you can prove he's not really that hard to buy something for.)

pairing: minghao (the8) x gn!reader genre: friends to lovers | fluff rating: sfw (but i still don't want minors interacting) word count: ~1.8k warnings: none, really. this is just fluff and a secret santa exchange. no pronouns used for reader.

a/n: this is for @k-vanity's 25 tips for surviving the holidays. day 14 - secret santa 💕 i'm also counting this as a drabble.

“Are you sure you want to trade for him?” Mingyu asks, eyeing you suspiciously.

“For the last time, yes,” you huff out. 

Are you actually sure? No. But, this plan has to work. Every year you and your whole friend group draw names for Secret Santa. This year, you were really hoping to get Minghao. For a lot of reasons you’re not trying to share with Mingyu. Thankfully, he’s terrible at keeping secrets from you and had instantly whined about getting the hardest friend. He’s relieved you want to trade, even if he’s also a little suspicious. Not suspicious enough to hold onto the most difficult person to buy for, though. 

“Your funeral,” he says with a shrug. “Who’d you have again?” 

“Seulgi,” you remind him.

“Oh that’s so easy. She leaves notes about what she wants everywhere,” he says, satisfaction plain on his face. 

“So does Minghao, if you know where to look,” you add, keeping it a little vague.

“If you so say,” he says.

Mingyu’s not suspicious enough to look a gift horse in the mouth. Literally. Minghao is famous in your friend group for being difficult to buy presents for. Famous for not even pretending to like a present. You wonder how many presents he’s taken back in exchange for something that he wants more. Which does make the whole thing a little more daunting, especially because you’re not supposed to spend over a certain amount. That’s the whole premise of doing a Secret Santa with your friends. It’s so that you don’t have to go broke buying presents because you have a lot of friends. Of course, you’re all older now than when you started as broke university students. Still, it’s nice to hold onto the tradition. 

Now that you’ve switched, you’re nervous. Everything in your plan got you to the point of switching (and kind of how to pull off the perfect gift within your budget). You haven’t considered what he’ll say or what you’re going to say to him. Or if you’re even going to admit what you went through to make sure you had him in the exchange. You know you should just rip the band-aid off. Easier said than done, though.

The reality is that you want to be the one to give Minghao a present for a lot of reasons. You want to be able to get him something he’ll actually like. To show him that you listen to him and you know him. To show him that he’s not actually that bad to buy for, because you can tell it gets to him sometimes. That he thinks he’s just difficult, which he definitely is, but there’s more to him than that. There’s also the biggest reason you wanted to pull his name. That you have a giant crush on him. One you’re shocked he hasn’t picked up on and just as shocked other friends haven’t seemed to pick up on, either. Well, except for Seulgi. Then again, she never misses a beat. It’s useful that she knows, too, since you’re planning to ask her for help in securing the perfect gift. 

(Seulgi comes through, like the actual best friend in the world, with a killer discount on a beautiful designer scarf. Minghao hasn’t eyed that exact one, but you think you know him well enough to know that it’s still something he’ll like. It fits seamlessly into his style and it’s the kind of thing you can easily see him buying for himself. True to her word and the plan, Seulgi set aside several pieces that were returned because the brand had really weird rules about reselling things that left the store. They take returns because of the goodwill with customers, but never resell the items even close to full price.) 

When it comes time to actually exchange gifts, you’re a little nervous again. Didn’t think it through that you do this as a group, so everyone will see what everyone else got. Including the care put into your present for Minghao and the obvious, at least to you, significance. As if sensing your nerves, Seulgi shoots you a warm smile, then directs you to take a couple breaths. 

“I get to open my present first, right?” Soonyoung calls out. He’s already looking through the presents on the table. 

“You go first every year,” Seungcheol points out. 

“Right, so it’s tradition,” Soonyoung agrees. 

“Or maybe someone else could go…” Seungcheol starts. 

“Got it!” Soonyoung calls. 

“Just let him have it,” Seulgi laughs out.

As it turns out, she had him and got him a silly tiger plush and also a ticket to go to a drive through safari experience where they had tigers. Unsurprisingly, it’s a strong start and Soonyoung is thrilled. Seulgi opens her present next and it carries on just as well. It seems that everyone likes their presents, at least so far. Though, someone makes a joke that Minghao hasn’t gotten his yet. You’re still deep in thought and worry when you finally realize that your friends are trying to get your attention. It seems like it’s your turn to go next. Still somewhat lost in thought, you find your present. It’s easier because there aren’t many left and one of them is the one you bought. 

The second you open your present, it’s all you can think about. It’s a beautifully decorated scrapbook, so carefully put together that it almost makes you want to tear up. You start flipping through the pages and it’s like walking through all your favorite memories with your closest friends. The road trips and the sporting events. Concerts and beach days. Bonfires and drunken parties. A complete catalog of your best memories, without you even having to tell whoever made it. Each page is uniquely decorated without it being overdone. As you’re flipping through each page, you notice that there’s one person in more pictures than anyone else. Minghao. Is it that obvious to whoever made this that you have feelings for him? 

“I hope you like it,” Minghao says and he actually sounds nervous.

You look up at him, surprised. “You did this?” 

“Yeah, I realized after I wrapped it that I forgot to include a card,” he admits. 

“This is honestly the best gift I’ve ever gotten, thank you,” you say sincerely.

Seungcheol breaks the moment with a laugh. “Looks like you’re up next, Hao.”

“Right, yeah,” Minghao says. He clears his throat as he stands up. 

It’s a little hard for you to figure out where to look. You’re so enamored with the present you got from Minghao that you want to keep looking through it and appreciating the little details he put in. You find yourself aimlessly running your fingers over the pages. But, you also want to know what he thinks of your present. The real reaction as he opens it. Which does win out as he sits back down with his present on his lap. He’s careful as he unwraps it, almost like he’s preparing for whatever is inside. Over the years, he’s definitely been a little better about reacting to presents. Maybe he’s worried this will be another present like that. You know watching his reaction was absolutely the right choice when his eyes go wide and his mouth opens a little in shock. His fingers run over the fabric carefully before he reaches for the card. The smile when he reads the card is so genuine that your heart melts into a puddle. Maybe it’s more than a crush.

“I don’t know how you did this and stayed under budget, but thank you,” Minghao says with more emotion than you’re expecting. 

“Hey, yeah, that’s a foul! You can’t go over our budget just to get him something he wants,” Mingyu argues. 

“It wasn’t over budget, I sold the scarf. I have the receipt still,” Seulgi says.

“That’s even worse!” Mingyu argues with a pout.

“You’re just mad that someone finally got Minghao the perfect present,” Seungcheol teases. 

“I hate it here,” Mingyu says.

The conversation turns back to the remaining presents. Nobody really seems to have another comment on the moment that passed between you and Minghao over the presents. Neither of you has ever gotten the other for Secret Santa like this and it’s gone much differently than you expected. Instead of feeling nervous, you’re feeling a little hopeful. At least if your present is anything to go off. Minghao’s never put this much effort into a present. Not that you can remember, at least. Maybe, you’re not trying to get ahead of yourself, but maybe he feels a little something more for you as well. 

You’re a pretty disengaged from the conversation, especially once everyone finishes opening their presents and things turn to what movie to watch. Instead, you head into the kitchen to get someone to drink, missing the way Minghao’s eyes follow your movement. A little surprised when he appears in the kitchen with you.

“Thank you again,” he says quietly. It still makes you jump a bit. 

“Oh!” you gasp. “You’re welcome. I’m just glad you liked it. I know it’s kind of simple.”

“No, it’s perfect,” Minghao disagrees. “How did you manage?” 

“I told Seulgi that I had you and roughly what I wanted, so she set aside some returns. Only ones that came back immediately and clearly hadn’t been worn,” you rush out. 

Minghao’s touch on your arm is gentle, instantly calming. “I’m so thankful you got me.” 

“Me too,” you agree. “Well, I didn’t, actually. I traded with Mingyu.” 

“You did?” Minghao asks, seeming surprised but also pleased.

“Yeah, I wanted to get you something,” you say.

“I did, too,” he answers softly. “But, I was lucky enough to just draw your name.”

“Your present was amazing. I meant it, it’s one of the best I’ve ever gotten,” you whisper.

“It’s what you deserve. I know I didn’t spend much,” Minghao starts. 

“No, it’s everything. I can’t imagine how much time you must’ve put into this. I’m not sure anyone’s ever done anything so thoughtful for me,” you assure him, eyes soft on his. 

“You deserve only thoughtful things,” he tells you. 

“You, too,” is all you can say.

“Do you think, well, would it be weird if we got dinner sometime?” he asks and you can’t hide the shock. 

“Let’s go, you two!” Seungcheol calls.

“Like a date?” you ask, unable to believe what you’re hearing.

“Forget it, it’s weird,” he backtracks. When he starts to leave, you grab his arm.

“Yeah, I’d love to, but only if it’s actually a date,” you tell him. If you thought the smile over his present was big, this is infinitely bigger. 

“How about right now?” he presses.

“I don’t have anywhere else to be,” you agree. 

“Then, let’s go,” he says, hand held out for you.

And you take it. It’s one of the easiest decisions you’ve ever made. You didn’t even have to tell him that you’d been thinking of asking him the same thing. The holidays truly can be so magical.

i hope you liked it! please let me know your thoughts or give it a reblog if you enjoyed it 💕

[jadedxhearts]

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐋𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞…

Having studied plants for years, you've become very familiar with the "aphrodisiac" type. And finally, you have an opportunity to experience your secret fantasy, with Law supervising.

Warnings: smut, fem bodied reader (no pronouns/gendered names), Law gets jealous of a plant, also probably one of the weirder smut fics I've written...

Having spent your last few years studying all sorts of plants, you now knew many of the different types like the back of your hand; including the islands that they were native to. So, when your crew was making a stop to an island that you knew to have certain types of plants, you decided to divulge in a secret fantasy you’d had for some time now…

In all your years of studying botany, you’d become familiar with the plants labeled as “aphrodisiacs”. In particular, you’d always been fascinated by the type that could sprout tentacles from their roots. You knew the common physical traits, their locations, everything. But you had yet to see one in person. You could hardly remember when the filthy desire had started, but you did know for certain that you’d never wanted to try something the way you wanted this. And today you seemed to be in luck, as your crew stopped at a tropical island, one where the locals only lived near the beaches, away from the jungles. While there could be animals also driving them away, you knew of one plant that lied in the jungle, something that would certainly keep most people away. And you intended on finding it.

Law, your boyfriend, was skeptical of the whole thing. He could always tell when you were lying, and even though you’d told him “there’s some plants inhabiting the jungle that I’d like to check out”, a seemingly innocent thing to do, he’d somehow seen right through it. So, with some embarrassment on your end, you admitted your true reason about why you wished to find the plants. And to your surprise, Law was intrigued, agreeing to accompany you on the little journey.

So now, here you were, traversing the jungle with Law trailing behind you by a couple feet, katana in hand. You walked along the clearest path you could find, occasionally stopping to check out some plants. You were nearly an hour into the hike when you started to find hints of striking gold. The first thing to hit you was the sweet aroma of the air, the scent’s purpose to draw “prey” in, lure them directly to the plant you sought. The next sign was a clearing beginning in the dense vegetation. With an eagerness you’d never felt before, you headed straight for the center of the clearing, finding the exact plant you’d been searching for.

“Here it is!” You shouted back to Law, who was still standing at the tree line, clearly finding the whole thing odd. 

Hesitantly, he headed out from the trees and into the clearing, joining you about ten feet away from a small plant in the center of the clearing. It had some large leaves sprouting off the sides, with one beautiful pink flower in the middle of it. Its roots were slightly visible, and you knew very well exactly what some of these roots were capable of. Glancing between you and the plant, Law looked at you suspiciously. 

“This is it? I thought you said it was supposed to… you know…” he trailed off, averting his eyes.

“It will, it just needs some… waking up, I guess,” you explained. “Um… maybe, take a few steps back? Since I’m the one who… you know…”

Law nodded, not needing to be told twice. He headed closer to the tree line, leaning against one of the large trunks. He’d expressed not wanting to “get fucked by a plant”, as he’d called it, hence his apprehension to the whole thing. At the very least, he could enjoy watching you. 

You started by undressing down to your bra and panties, tossing your other clothes over to where Law stood. Then, you crouched down, waving a hand over the flower. It puffed out some sweet-scented dust, which you were able to identify as the aphrodisiac part of the plant. Upon breathing in the slightest amount, you found that you were already growing restless. Your heart rate picked up, and you could feel yourself aching from your core, growing more pathetically horny for this plant by the second. Still, through your cloudy mind, you were able to remember everything you needed to know about the plant. So next, you prodded at the plant’s leaves, gently stroking them to rouse it. Within seconds, there was a rumbling in the ground underneath you, and you watched with fascination as the plant’s roots began sprouting, green tentacles squirming around, searching for whatever dared to get too close. 

Standing back up to your full height, you waited, cunt throbbing as you observed the tentacles growing around you. Your mind was so foggy now, the desperate need to have the appendages take you blocking your regular thoughts that you didn’t even notice it when the tentacles headed for something else.

It wasn’t until you heard a shout that you some sense was put back into you, and you watched with wide eyes as the tentacles slid up Law’s legs and tangled around his arms, dragging him away from the trees and closer to where you stood.

“You said they wouldn’t bother me!” He shouted to you, trying to escape the plant's hold. 

“I-I didn’t think they would,” you replied, unsure of what to do. 

“Well tell me what the hell I'm supposed to do now!”

“Um, it’s best if you… just let them… have their way,” you timidly said, looking down to the tentacles wrapped around his legs, now prodding around at the top of Law’s jeans.

Groaning with annoyance, Law decided to just do as you’d said. It’s not like he could argue with you now away, as the sweet-smelling aphrodisiac pollen reached him, sending him under the same effect you’d had. You couldn’t lie, it excited you to be watching the scene unfolding before you. Only you wished the plants would pay some attention to you…

After seemingly struggling for a couple minutes, the tentacles were able to get Law’s jeans undone, pulling his hardened length out from his clothing. The plants squirmed with what you could only guess was excitement, as the smaller ends of the tentacles began wrapping around his cock, squeezing him and slowly jerking his member.

Law let out a deep whine, his head falling back as the little suckers on the under-side of the tentacles began sucking at the skin of his cock, one appendage taking its spot at the head of his length, suckling and smothering itself against his tip. Before long, hot spurts of seed began spilling from his cock as the tentacles worked at his length quickly.

The sight had your cunt aching, clenching around nothing as you wished so badly they would come and play with you, too. Any thought of being worried about Law was gone, your mind being overtaken by the affects of the pollen. Somehow, you needed to get the plant’s attention. Not knowing what else to do, you got on your hands and knees, raising your bottom into the air and trying to gain the attention of the tentacles. Swaying your ass around, you finally managed to get a few of the green appendages to wander over to you. Letting out a whiny sigh of relief, you drooled onto the jungle ground as you felt them creep up your legs, wrapping around and squeezing your thighs as the ends of the tentacles began prodding at your panties, looking for a way in.

Yes, yes, you thought, feeling them begin to wrap around the sides of your panties, tugging them away from your skin. Please fuck me…

When the first tentacle dipped into your dripping folds, you moaned in delight, pussy throbbing as you wanted nothing more than to suck it in and be stuffed. Agonizingly slowly, the tentacle slid into your aching hole, wriggling around and doing what you could only refer to as licking your velvety walls. As it reached deeper inside you, you began to cry and arch your back, the girth of the appendage stretching your cunt wide open. And as you moaned more and more, you caught more of the plant’s attention, other curious tentacles exploring your body as it seeked ways to please you. 

A few of the tentacles pulled at your bra, eventually tearing it from your chest as it grew impatient with the clothing. They began swarming your breasts, their little sucklers finding your nipples with ease. With a long, high-pitched moan, you allowed your mouth to hang open as you drooled from the pleasure you felt. 

One tentacle chose to take advantage of that, though, as it poked at your lips before sliding into your mouth, forcing you to suck on it. The plant seemed to like your reciprocation, and it began spurting some odd substance into your mouth, but you swallowed without question, finding that it tasted incredibly sweet. Though you figured out that it was only pumping more aphrodisiac into you quickly, as the effects started within seconds.

Your body felt so incredibly hot, your entire mind being overcome with lust as you could only think: more, more, more. You’d completely forgotten Law was even there, not caring about anything around you; only about what was in you. 

More and more tentacles joined the others already tangled around your body, pulling you closer and closer to the little flower. They fucked your holes roughly, rocking your entire body back and forth. The tentacle in your mouth was having fun making you choke on it, while the one in your cunt thrusted into you hastily, pumping its warm seed into you. Letting out choked screams around the appendage in your mouth, you began cumming around the other one, still not feeling satisfied and simply wanting more.

After the tentacles had cum inside you a few more times, leaving no more room for its seed as it spilled out from your cunt, they all suddenly went completely still, and all the horny confusion was instantly cleared from your mind. Feeling like you’d just awoken, you looked up to find that Law had sliced the plant apart, stopping it from using you any longer.

“Law,” you whined, shuddering as the aphrodisiac-seed pooled out of your pussy and around your thighs. “I wanted more…”

“Then I’ll give you more,” he grunted, tossing his katana away and practically pouncing onto you. 

“That thing wasn’t going to give you up,” he growled, pulling his cock out and quickly shoving himself inside your cunt. “And I wasn’t going to let it have what’s mine.” 

Moaning, you clutched at Law’s jacket and wrapped your legs around his waist. He’d never fucked you so hard or with such feral desire before, and god did it feel good. 

After stuffing you full of his own seed, and you cumming around his cock multiple times, it seemed the sex-pollen had finally cleared yours and Law’s systems, leaving you both a sweaty, exhausted mess.

[pursuitseternal]

“A Yuletide Miracle:” Spawn!Astarion learns the (nsfw) meaning of the season, finding 🔥heat in the cold❄️

Spawn!Astarion x Reader | E | 3.4K

Part 1: “Yuletide in Faerûn”

Summary: A very “Grinchy,” cantankerous Astarion walks with you home on the eve of Yuletide, loathing the sights of celebration. Little does he know the surprise you have planned to make his heart grow three sizes that night, and well… other part of his undead anatomy…

Slightly inspired by “The Grinch” 🌟

CW: Cranky, festivity-hating Vampire Spawn, a Yuletide surprise that warms his undead heart, and helps him learn the true meaning of the season.

Read on Ao3 | Astarion fic Masterlist

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“I do not get it,” Astarion grumbles as you walk towards your flat in the lower city. Baldur’s Gate, blanketed in snow, crisp and pure and crunching under your boots as you return from your shopping. Night has fallen, the stars are bright. Voices fill the air with music from taverns and the scent of spices wafts on the breezes. It’s beautiful, this time of year. But the enterally handsome Vampire Spawn at your side couldn’t be more glower and glum. “I mean, I have every right to be merry and filled with cheer this time of year. The nights are longer, the days are darkened, it’s a Vampire Spawn’s paradise. But the rest of this… mirth…” he grimaces as you stroll, arm and arm, past a group of carolers serenading outside of the Elfsong. “They have no right or reason to be so chipper in the dark and cold.”

You give him a tug on his arm, a good-humored and disparaging glance from the side of your eye. “Come now, music and parties and warmth and gifts…. It’s Yuletide, my love. Surely even you would love to have people thinking about you and buying you gifts upon gifts?”

He falls silent. Tense. As you make the last turn towards your little home, you walk in the silence. Just a flat, but it’s yours. Yours for the last few months since your victory over the Netherbrain. This little gift from Wyll, new Duke of Baldur’s Gate, it’s your safe haven from the sun while you both settle yourselves to find him a cure… and while you fuck each others brains out like you’re still about to maybe die tomorrow.

Old habits die hard.

But as the winds whip around you, bitter and cold, you hide your frame behind his broad shoulders. He may be chilling to the touch and undead, but at least he can block the ice of winter. And it makes him scoff. “Really? Truly, you use me as a shield? Some partner, some selfless merry cheer you spread.”

You clutch your sack and the precious contents tighter against your body, keeping it warm and safe. “I told you, my little surprise for you can’t freeze. Else, our trip to the shops will all be for naught and you’ll get nothing for Yuletide, my love.”

You draw to a stop, huddled behind his back at your doorstep. You barely hear him mutter to himself over the icy wind and the snap of the key in the lock, “So like every other year…”

Words not meant for you to hear. But they pierce your heart more than the cold and ice.

You pause inside the door, shaking off your cloak from the piles of snow that have accumulated. “Why don’t you start the fire in the study? I’ll be in, just in a moment….”

He turns, leaving his own damp cloak a pile on the ground. Like always. Messy thing. “So you can finish readying your…” he scowls, bitterness behind those crimson eyes, “…surprise? Gods, I hope it’s not some cheesy Yuletide gift.”

“Would it be so unthoughtful of me to give my lover a little something tonight?” You smirk, hiding the little satchel behind your back. “It is the eve of Yule, after all.”

He sniffs in abject derision. “If you insist on wasting our gold on something so frivolous, who am I to stop you.” He closes in on you, making you retreat against the wall of the foyer. “Just don’t expect anything grand in return… well, unless you think what I give you on a nightly basis is grand enough.” He flashes those fangs at you, smirking with all that lust and seduction that makes your legs weak to feel him between your thighs.

You cough, clearing your voice and forcing a pout on your trembling lips. “You could at least put a bow on it?” You tease, making that hungry smirk widen.

“Cliché, but if that’s what gets you going this evening, who am I to judge?” he shrugs slowly, languorously, letting his hand slide from the wall beside your head, the other cupping around your chin to bring you in for a slow and tantalizing kiss.

You hold your breath, trying hard to remember to not drop your precious cargo. He departs, one last suck of your bottom lip between his until it releases with a pop. “Don’t you fret, I’ll get the study nice and warm for you… and your,” a frown turns at the corner of his mouth, “… supposed surprise.”

“Don’t you worry, I won’t overwhelm you with too much joy or peace or love,” you comment, interjecting as he opens his mouth, “and I’ll keep the costumes and singing to a minimum.”

His mouth snaps shut, disgusted beyond measure like he swallowed bile, “Gods… I swear… I am not in the mood… Keep your festivities to a minimum, and as for costumes, I’ll have you naked, preferably…”

He trods into the study. Grumpy, disgruntled. So easy to tease. But you keep it soft. Light hearted. Knowing there was more to his cold and cranky demeanor than just selfishness.

Your mind races… would a spawn of Cazador have even had anything for Yuletide?

You busy yourself, prepping your gift, tenderly setting it on a table. The little plant seems so unassuming, it makes you smile, knowing just what it will mean to him. At least you hope.

He’s been so sour about this time of year, and your heart aches, that one little moment, that clue as to why he might just hate Yuletide.

You ready the bottle from the Apothecary; the shining golden liquid inside warm to the touch as you carry both across the hall and into the study.

He waits, the fire cheerily roaring in the grate, but he stands across the room, in the shadows. His back towards you, you can feel his tension rolling off those bunching and lean muscles as he gazes out the window into the winter night. Arms folded neatly over his chest, you see him shift as he hears you enter, but he doesn’t turn.

You wait. You watch him shifting on his toes, eyes fixed into the dark distance. Until at last he speaks. “When I was… well, before…” he speaks quietly. Pressed. Careful not to mention any names, not that he needs to. “…Yuletide was just another night, another time sent out in our bodies for the bidding, another night spent luring victims, only one that smelled more like oranges and spice and smoke.” His shoulders hunched slightly, arms holding tighter as he hugged himself tighter. “I used to dream of gifts and punch and music. Instead I got only more shame and abuse and… loneliness…”

You move, setting your items down on the small end table before you hurry to his side, your arms wrapping around him tightly.

“Yuletide never came for me. I was always alone… and in darkness…”

“Yuletide doesn’t come in packages and ribbons and songs, Astarion,” you nuzzle your head into his chest. “And now you’ll never be alone again, my love,” you smile into the crushed softness of his doublet. “And… if you let me share my cliché gift with you… you might find yourself not in darkness any longer either…”

He eases in a split second. You look into his face, surprised and hopeful against his better judgment. “Really?” he stumbled on his words. “I -I mean I know about the not-lonely-anymore bit, thank you…”

He hesitates, crimson eyes darting to the corner of his gaze, wanting to see what you got him.

Then he sees it, turning. A little plant, leaves deepest green, a round, fleshy bud nestled in the verdant leaves. “Is that…?” he breathes.

“A Solaris,” you beam at him. “I had to pay that apothecary no small amount of coin to get it… not to mention I had to hustle his chief competitor a bit in order to really seal the deal.” You laugh at the way his face is just… innocent. Hopeful. Happy. “But for a flower that blooms with light and warmth like the sun, one day a year…”

You watch the corner of his mouth grin wistfully.

“…I figured it would make for a very merry Yule. So you could feel the light of the sun without… you know…”

“Roasting like a chestnut on an open fire?”

You giggle against the macabre image. “Yes, that.” You pick up the little vial, its golden glow pulsing. “Here,” you murmur, proffering the small glass bottle. “The key to unlocking your vampire-safe sunlight.” You reach it towards him, his palm opening, fingers unfurling for it.

“I…” he swallows. You watch his Adam's apple bob, emotional as he holds back so many feelings and words. “Thank you,” he finally relents, letting you place the vial in his cold and near-trembling palm. You watch his face, the little lines of his smile deepening as he holds the glass bottle, its warmth seeping into his chilled, undead skin.

“If it’s your first Yuletide gift in two-hundred years, I’m glad I can make it count,” you murmur, trying not to disturb the glow that seems to come from under his pale and lustrous skin.

“You’ve… found your way to… let me feel the sun again,” he smirks at you briefly, “if only for tonight.”

You simper, pouting your lips, catching his eyes with all the allure you can muster. “That’s the idea, my sweet vampire, to give you something because I love you.”

He closes the distance, eager, anxious. But you press the tips of your fingers on his lips. “Ah, ah,” you grin. “Don’t risk that elixir with one of your all-consuming, fang-filled kisses. Why don’t you… open your gift?”

For a moment, he looks nervous. Just the tip of his fang biting into his lower lip as he uncorks the glowing elixir. A slight, sweet scent fills your nose, it makes you thrill.

Almost as much as the childish smile dancing on his lips as he pours it at the base of the massive, rounded yellow bud.

Heat fills the air, a soft shimmering begins to stretch from the plant, until, petal by petal, it opens.

A ball of light perches in its center, pulsing and glowing and lighting up your study more than any fire ever could.

Light in the dark. The sun itself shining.

Astarion’s eyes are wide, his mouth open in shock. “It feels… so good,” he whispers, as if he is scared that the second he looks away, blinks his eyes, or moves it will disappear.

“It does, the sun itself for you to bask in for one day, my love…” you reply, crossing to close your window curtains, to keep the light for yourself. And because, your stomach flutters, you anticipate just what will come next. You turn, already undoing your own buttons of your tunic. Expecting him to already be naked, to be bathing his cold and pale skin in the light.

But he’s not.

He’s sitting on the settee, knees hugged tight into his chest. Just watching. Fixated on the swirling golden blossom on the table before him.

Grinning like a fool.

Still, you tug your shirt from over your head, and the Solaris’ light does warm your skin, feeling no different than the true sun. Slowly, you round to sit beside him, half naked and totally ignored in favor of your gift. But it doesn’t matter. You don’t mind. Not as you hear his little giggles in his throat, the little clenches of his body as he feels… giddy.

You scoot right beside him, the skin of your torso pressing into that linen shirt of his, and you feel him leaning back against you, his head tipping to rest on the top of yours.

His breath washes through your hair, that clean scent on his skin, always the same, always making your body hum with desire and awaken with love. Then you hear it, faintly, he hums a melody, the same carol you had heard outside the tavern. His voice is deep, sweet if imperfect. But it’s music to your ears. His arm reaches around you then, a slight jolt as he realizes he’s touching nothing but skin as he skates his fingers across your back and down your arm.

“Ahem,” he clears his throat, more sultry than surprised. “I do see you are taking full advantage of your own present, darling.”

“Maybe I’m just waiting for my own in exchange,” you simper and pout, your hand reaching to stroke up those sinews of his thigh.

His chuckle tickles the top of your head as he places a kiss there. “Well, if you don’t mind not having it wrapped in frills and ribbons, I suppose I could give it to you now, my love.”

“What need have I for ribbons when I can have you… taking me…. in the sunlight again?”

“Just like old times,” he purrs, a single hand reading around to slip into the band of your sensible breeches for winter. “It always was a pity I never got one last time with you, basking in the heat of your warm flesh and the light of the sun before that blessing of the tadpole disappeared.” He grins, fingers slipping down between your thighs, which you have already conveniently spread for him. “What a gift to share in it again, a true Yuletide miracle, my love.”

That cool touch pierces where you are hot and aching. Where you burn and blister with your own heat. A little moan escapes your lips, your hands shuffling off the thick material of your breeches, words pleading for more from Astarion. You stumble over your “P-please…” as you stand to let that fabric shuffle off your feet.

He’s just watching your writhe on his fingers, bathed in the light. Those crimson eyes unblinking and ravenous. “Feeling merry, are you?” he purrs. “Bursting with joy yet?” His voice is rife with that seduction and wicked bite that makes you instantly wetter.

“A little more effort, and I’m sure I’ll be louder than any of those drunken carolers,” you whimper, the brush of his hand unlacing his breeches presses against your mound and thigh, the pressure of his other fingers deep inside you, more numerous than before in your cunt, guiding you to straddle his lap.

You slide right over, hands braced on his shoulders, gripping into the decadently soft material of his tunic. It’s so calm, so bright, this magical sunlight on your bare back. Your hands ruck up his own shirt, an approving smirk dancing over his breathtaking face as you sweep it off his body in one pull.

The moan from his mouth, hanging slack as he feels the warmth and light on him again, it makes you quiver and thrill. “Gods,” he breathes, “to bask in the light again…” his voice is wet, thick with desire, with emotion. He shuts his eyes, head leaning back against the settee, hands finally tugging his breeches apart to let his cock free. You feel him, his hands lifting it from its confines, fingers silkenly stroking himself. A groan from your mouth, bemoaning that emptiness inside you, your own hand takes up the pressure he started to build.

“Tch,” he sucks his teeth, still reclining to savor the warmth of the light and the heat your folds on his lap, “you don’t lift a finger tonight for your own pleasure, my love.” He pulls your body flush against him, guiding his cock to run back and forth through your hot and dripping seam. Slowly, his hand presses at the top of your hip, letting your sink down just an inch or so over that blunt head. Then he sneaks you up, sliding away from your aching channel. “Perhaps I should have let you undo my laces, unwrap your present, as it were…” he shrugs, centering your body over that cool hard erection. “I can make it up to you in so many ways,” he growls happily into your lips, sucking them in to a long and tender kiss.

Your hands grip into his shoulders, his hold on your waist steadying you as he thrusts upwards. The fullness of him inside you at last, that stretching friction warms you more than the soft flow of light over your back. Eyes closing, you can almost imagine that little glad back in the Emerald Grove. That morning you woke, sore and tingling from the way you had joined for the first time.

That morning light that once warmed your bodies as you took in the sight of him completely, scars and all. That way your heart first went out to him…

But this, this is so much better. Melting as you bask not only in the heat that defies the dark and cold, but that thrumming seer of your love. His hands rock your hips, letting you shimmy and buck as he matches your every movement with those impeccable thrusts. His kiss dances with your lips, tongue taking yours in his hold, tangling and darting as you lose yourself in him.

Warm all over. Loved all over.

You feel his touch wandering, tracing to cup the swell of your ass, fingers gripping into your flesh with each ride you make on him.

And you know he is feeling that light, the same that caresses his face, illuminating those lines and freckles and ridges of cheekbone that steal your breath with their beauty every day. You break from his mouth to watch him, lips still twitching and slack as he pants and groans.

His eyelids lower, that veiled gaze watching the way your body bounces on his lap, his stare darting to watch where you take him all the way in. Where the increasingly wet slaps of your body echo to fill the little study. Where your own body burns like a furnace, fucked hard to scaling hot as your bliss blisters.

Back arching, hands clawing into the cool muscles of his shoulders, you let it all go, letting that heat on your back and the friction of his fucking wash through you, splitting you apart with your climax. His arms embrace you harder as you spasm, your hips rocking at random, your body bracing against his as your pleasure floods you and steals your every conscious thought. His muscles clench, his belly brushing against yours, his thighs beneath you hitching and tight. You feel him pulsing inside you, his voice resonating in one ear with his groans and sighs as he fills you. Your folds drenched with all the hot slick it can handle, pouring and puddling on his lap.

Vision blurring, you come to, bit by bit. Head resting on his shoulder, his own rasping, unsteady breath washing to cool the warm glow over your flesh, you nuzzle tightly against him.

And you realize, for once, his skin feels warm to the touch. Glowing and heated from the light before you and your love-making. The stillness breaks with a gentle sigh from his iron-wrought chest. Air whistles in your ear. “You win, darling,” he whispers as he places a kiss into the tumbled mess of your hair. “Yuletide can be… merry… blissful even,” he acknowledges, not a begrudging hint in his voice.

“Miracles happen, Yuletide magic in the air… I think your heart has grown three sizes tonight…” you giggle, raising your head, your cheeks flushed and body humming to feel him still inside you.

“I doubt it,” he smirks, rakish and mischievous, “but I do know of other bits of my anatomy that have had that benefit…” he grinds into you, dragging that still-throbbing cock of his around your walls. He gives you a rakish flash of his fangs before you swiftly find yourself laid out flat on your back, sprawled across the bed of the settee. The weight of his body crushes you into the soft velvet, and your body grows unbearable… hot, especially as he sucks your ear fully into his hungry mouth. He whispers, “And you say this Solaris blooms for a day… well then, darling.” He gives that wicked giggle, “you are about to have a night that is not so silent… if you know what I mean.”

“I count on it,” you purr back, lost in the brightness in his crimson eyes. “I want the most out of my gift, after all…”

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🕯️I hope I got all the tag requests, thank you all for the love. I can’t wait to see what you think, dear readers 💞

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#373

“What the fuck is this I’m hearing about you?  My buddy Deputy Watson asked me why I have a faggot working for me?  He tells me that you have a record for sex in public bathrooms.  Is it true?

“Of course it is!  I can see it on your face.  Have the common decency of at least admitting it….  Jesus fuck!  You know when I hired you, I told you I didn’t want any drama.  And now I have to deal with this.  I can’t be thought of a sperm burper.  With my wife filing for divorce and living across the state at her sisters, people will start to think nasty shit about me once they find out that I have a fag working for me.

“You were recommended to us because you are a hard worker; you keep your head down.  You don’t drink and you don’t cavort around in town.  Now I know why. 

“Watson was telling me that you were caught once before at a rest stop in South Dakota getting cornholed.  He also said that the charges were dropped.  Lucky you.  So you must like sucking on random dick at some nasty assed bathroom.  What the fuck is the draw?

“Nothing to say?...  I want an answer….

“…You like to blow straight men?  Why would a straight man want to get blown by some fag when he can get it at home?... 

“…Watch your mouth!  The last time I got a blowjob has no bearing on this conversation.  You know damned well that Louise and I are going through a divorce.  I haven’t had anything in a long…  Wait a minute, are you looking to give me head?

“…Back to being silent…?

“Uh…

“Uh…

“Awww, fuck it….  I could go for some head.  You want it?...  No one will ever know that this happened, you got that?  Good.  Then get on your fucking knees. 

“I got a lot of skin….  God damn!  You are eager!  My wife makes me get hard first before I…  Oh fuck!  Oh man. 

“Fuck!  Watch your goddamned teeth!...  I will knock them out.  Trust me I will.  My dick may not be long, but it gets really fat.  Those teeth better know their place.

“Damn, not many women could deep throat me.  Fuck I will be using this mouth again.

“Fuck!  What did I tell you about your teeth? 

“Fuck you faggot!  You want me to hit you again, keep up with the teeth.  You hurt me, then I hurt you.  What do you have to say?...  Hunh?...

“Damn right you’re sorry.  Look up at me.  Open your mouth.  Let me feel your teeth….  Holy shit!  That’s some jagged teeth you have there. 

“I want you to make an appointment with your dentist.  I want him to grind them smooth.  You got that?  I pay for your dental, let me benefit from that.  And make that appointment as soon as possible.

“Look at me….  That slap means I’m serious about this.  Now get the fuck up.  You take men up your shitter?  Of course, you do.  Get out of those Levi’s. 

“A fucking jock strap?  You are such a fag.  Leave it on.  I’m not interested in what you have in front.

“It’s been years since I fucked an ass.  Most of the time it was to put a bitch into place.  You’ll be the first faggot, but it will be for the same damned reason. 

“Spread your legs further.  Damn.  That’s a pale ass.  Hold still….  Oooh.  You have been fucked before.  I can’t remember when my head went in so easy.  So I guess I don’t have to wait for you to adjust to me. 

“Right to the root!  Fuck your pussy is treating my cock so well.  Aw, shut up.  I don’t want to hear any goddamned complaints from you.  If you wanted more lube, you should have put more spit on my dick.  Next time think to do that.

“Now shut the fuck up.  I’m in the middle of fucking here….

“Your cunt knows how to take a pounding.  I like that.  I like that a lot….  Do that again.  Fuck, this is one talented cunt.  And it’s right here every day.  Yeah.  This cunt is going to be used going forward. 

“Fuck yeah.  I’m taking ownership of this cunt.  It’s mine.  You got that?...

“Answer me motherfucker.  Who’s cunt is this?

“Damned right.  You will give up other men.  It’s mine.  You understand faggot?

“…You better.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum.  Get ready.  You gonna get flooded with a huge load.  Here it cums.  Here it goddamned cums!  Urg!  Urg!  Fuuuck.  Shit!

“Don’t fucking move.  Stay put.  Clamp down.

“Dammit faggot.  No wonder so many men use you like this.  Not anymore.  I wasn’t kidding when I said you are to give up other men.  That cunt is mine.  I don’t want any other man touching my property.  You got that faggot?...  You say, ‘Yes Sir!’

“That’s better.  You understand that I will be fucking it after we get done work every day?

“I’m one horny son of a bitch, a controlling one at that.  That’s why my wife is filing for a divorce.  You are going to be taking over her duties of taking my nut.  Let’s go up to the house so you can fix me some dinner. 

“No leave those Levi’s there.  You don’t deserve to wear pants.  The jock is all you need.  As I said before, I’m not interested in what you have up front.  In fact, it shouldn’t be any of your concern either. 

“Now get up to the house….  Goddamn, that’s a nice ass.  I don’t know if I will be able to make it through dinner without plowing that cunt and unloading a second time.  My dick can go all night, especially a cunt that treats my dick well.  That cunt will be so full by the end of the night.  Now get moving.”

[diazsdimples]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @theotherbuckley @steadfastsaturnsrings and @puppyboybuckley (who published the final chapter of the Mudslide Fic, PLEASE go read it!)

I wasn’t gonna do this today cause I had the shift from hell and didn’t manage to write anything yesterday between birthday things but I managed to cobble this together after my shift! Frostpunk AU weirdly came back to me so please enjoy this small snippet!

Much to Buck’s relief, both Edmundo and Christopher are still alive when they make it back to the city, in record time as Bobby will have him believe. Rappelling down the cliff with two semi-conscious, reasonably unstable patients is more difficult than they’d initially anticipated, so in a rush of fear as he watches Bobby struggle with Christopher, Buck offers to bring the boy down himself.

Much like they did the day Buck carried Christopher to the cabin, they strap the child to Buck’s chest, using a small harness stored in the med kit on a “just in case” basis. Christophers head clunks repetitively against Buck’s chest as he pushes them off the cliff, slowly letting the rope out with each jump. He wishes that it wasn’t a two-hand job, that he could cradle Christopher’s head with one hand and keep the rope moving with the other.

Above him, Bobby abseils down with Edmundo dangling to the side of him in a basket. They’d done one last temperature check on the two of them before descending into the heavy, cold mist that lay over the city, and Edmundo’s had been the lowest they’d seen it since the rescue. The way Eli’s face had paled and he’d instantly tugged Bobby aside, talking with him in low, hushed tones was enough to tell Buck about the state of his health.

It made a cold, thrill of fear rush down Buck’s spine, settling in the pit of his stomach as a constant reminder of how precarious Edmundo and Christopher’s situation was, as he carried the small boy to safety.

The moment Buck and Christopher touched the ground, they were pounced on by a team of medics, headed by Hen.

“What’s the story, Buck?” Hen asked as she hurried to help peel off Buck’s outer layers and unclip him from the harness.

“Found this guy and his dad half frozen yesterday. He’s probably 7 or 8 years old and got moderate to severe hypothermia. Eli’s been monitoring him and he’s stable but barely conscious. Probably malnourished and seriously dehydrated,” Buck pants as he lowers Christopher onto the stretcher Hen has prepared. The kid’s light brown curls fall over his face, curling against his eyelids and Buck reaches out a tender hand to brush them back before he can stop himself.

If Hen notices, she chooses not to mention the look in his eyes as he does this.

“Alright, we’re going to take him to the med tent now. What about his dad?” Hen asks as two medics swiftly hoist Christopher’s stretcher into the air and run off in the direction of the nearest med tent.

Buck watches, half in a daze as Edmundo is lowered to the ground. His lips are pale and chapped, and his face looks lifeless and devoid of colour as his head lols to the side. A sick feeling creeps through Buck’s body as he thinks of how close they came to not making it back. How close Christopher came to losing his father.

“This is Edmundo Diaz, severe hypothermia, dehydration and malnourishment. He’s had issues with his oxygen and heart rate consistently through the journey home. Hen, he’ll need around the clock care, someone to stay with him, to keep an eye on him,” Buck says, hearing the urgency in his voice as he speaks. He doesn’t know what compels him, other than a sense that Edmundo is the other half of a magnet that’s drawing him ever closer, but Buck continues talking. “You guys can’t spare another medic but I-I don’t mind sitting with him. I’m good at taking his vitals a-and I could keep an eye on the kid.”

Hen eyes him, as if trying to read what his true motivation is. “Go,” she finally says, inclining her head towards the tent. Buck doesn’t need to be told twice.

No pressure tagging @hippolotamus @spotsandsocks @evanbegins @smilingbuckley @thekristen999 @elvensorceress @rainbow-nerdss @wikiangela @daffi-990 @watchyourbuck @disasterbuckdiaz @bucksbackwardcap @fortheloveofbuddie @aroeddiediaz @jesuisici33 @buckbuckgoose @exhuastedpigeon @cal-daisies-and-briars @wildlife4life @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @nmcggg @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @kitteneddiediaz @epicbuddieficrecs @spagheddiediaz @loserdiaz

[metakazkz]

Unfortunately, the New Abysstale comic has officially discontinued.

It was not an easy decision to make.

The reason why I discontinue it was because I'm getting to the point where people keep asking me when I'm going to continue the Abysstale comic and asking questions about it.

I feel pressure or force to go back there the do a new Abysstale comic when I'm not feeling too.

I know people are just curious about my Undertale Au and that's okay.

But every time I post the questions about the characters of story related to Abysstale.

It overshadow my other project that I'm working on, I was thinking if people only care about Abysstale and didn't care about the other projects I made.

This make me depresses and thinking Abysstale is the only drawing I do. Which is not true.

I started to hate Abysstale evermore and that is something I wanted to avoid it.

I never wanted to hate my project and I just wanted to take a break and do something else for a change.

But no matter how many times I repeat it. People just want to get a quick answer without doing at least one research.

Don't give me wrong. I love Abysstale and it was my first Undertale AU comic and the only comic that lasted for a long time.

I have good time and meet new friends. But I think it's time for me to discontinue New Abysstale comic for the sake of my mental health.

But just because I no longer work in Abysstale comic doesn't mean people will take my AU. Abysstale is still my Undertale AU and no one else.

I want to thank everyone who has loved and supported me and my new Abysstale for almost 9 years.

Only time will tell If I return back to Abysstale one day.

But for now, please don't ask me when Abysstale is coming back or anything related to Abysstale.

[mcntsee]

Shooting star

Summary: You spot a shooting star, close your eyes tight, make a wish, and hope it comes true.

Warnings: Angst.

Note: This is not my favorite work, but I saw a shooting star today and just had to write something.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

Kaz wasn't certain what had brought him here in the first place, nor did he have an inkling as to why they were having this conversation.

"It's not foolish; it's a shooting star!"

Yet, deep down, he acknowledged it might have been his heart’s silent plea to remain close to her, willing to follow her anywhere, even through the depths of hell.

"It's not even a star."

"Quiet and let me make a wish."

He couldn't fathom it. Watching her squeeze her eyes shut so tightly, he wondered if she wasn't seeing stars.

Despite finding her actions silly, he couldn't bring himself to extinguish the twinkle in her eyes.

So he waited until she opened her eyes again. "I've seen you take down multiple men, yet you believe a rock will make your wishes come true."

“There’s people out there that can stop our hearts with a mere gesture.”

Not to mention those born destined to become Saints.

"I believe a rock entering the atmosphere could make a wish come true."

He recalled his mum mentioning shooting stars a couple of times. Just like Y/N, she had mimicked the same actions. Whatever his mum had wished for, he never discovered.

“Has it ever?”

“What?”

“Has a wish ever come true?”

“Yes. One.”

He wanted to laugh. How unfair it seemed that she could find happiness in a rock when he, as a child, had been let down by the so-called shooting stars multiple times. But he didn’t.

“What was it?”

“To be saved.”

If Kaz was known for anything other than the dreadful things he could do for the right price, it was for always having a retort. This time, however, he didn’t. So he listened.

“I was hungry, angry, cold and sad. And I saw one.”

She could recall that day vividly, as if it were yesterday. Granted, it had only been a couple of years, but she was certain she would never forget it.

“I wished someone would come and save me.”

She had closed her eyes tightly, her father’s voice echoing in her head, reminding her of the countless times he had taken her stargazing.

The day they saw a shooting star, her father had told her to make a wish. She had.

Sometimes she still wonders if the reason why her father died was was because she had shared her wish with her friend. If the Saints viewed it as breaking a rule and twisted her dream into a nightmare.

“Next day, you found me.”

“I think that’s called luck, love.”

“We don’t get lucky, Kaz.”

Kaz hummed. A silence enveloped them both, and he wondered what she had wished for. To live for many years? To always have money? Perhaps she had wished for love or to leave this city behind.

“You should try it.”

“I don’t rely on rocks for my wishes to manifest.”

With a sigh, she stood up. For a moment, Kaz yearned to grasp her hands and implore her to stay, to convey that he would, just to keep her from leaving. Yet, he hesitated, and that brief pause was all she needed to vanish.

“And, I already have my shooting star.”

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

Kaz never would have imagined that the next time he returned to this spot, it would be without her by his side.

He never anticipated the overwhelming emptiness that would consume him—the ache in his heart echoing the memory of her laughter and the beauty of her eyes whenever his mind dared to revisit those moments.

It had been so long since he last heard her voice—telling stories, teasing him, attempting to draw laughter from him.

His shooting star was gone, and all the magic she had planted within him was extinguished—ripped away just as she had been.

He felt so alone.

While his mind had been lost in what if’s, his eyes caught the swift movement in the sky—a shooting star, racing faster than the constant wind hitting his face.

He laughed—a laughter laced with pain—as he reminisced about the countless times he had seen Y/N pause, shutting her eyes tight in pursuit of wishes.

Without meaning to, he imitated the same actions he had seen her do countless times, closing his eyes. His wish left his lips in a quiet whisper.

“Come back.”

But she wouldn’t. After all, it wasn’t even a star. Just a rock breaking through the atmosphere.

In the blink of an eye, the shooting star was gone, much like his- his girl, his shooting star.

[fluffytheocelot]

Hello it’s extremely late oops. Did not realize how long this thing would take (28 and a half hours apparently according to procreate lmao) but finally, here it is!

Carmen Week Day 8: La Femme Rouge

Holy crap that was a lot of characters! For day 8 I wanted to draw all the ways I've drawn/imagined Carmen over the last 5 years! There are many I didn't do for one reason or another, but it mainly boiled down to space lol. These 10 (11 including canon Carmen) are (most) of my favorites of my AUs :)

this turned out so cool im putting it in a frame when i get a chance lol

Info and solo drawings for each under the cut! it is. so long lol

as usual, i'll gladly answer asks about em :) i have plans to write a few for sure, but it's gonna be A While for them lol

Cat:

Both a Warriors AU and also just my "_____ as a cat" style!

This ones a lot less fleshed out so just bear with me lol. (ATM there might only be 2 clans, ACME and VILE, idk yet lol. idk what to name em either cos stickin "clan" on the end don't feel right XD)

In the Warriors AU, Sheeppaw grows up learning 2 contradictory versions of the Warrior Code: The true one from Shadowstalk, and the VILE version from older warriors. She gets made an apprentice a couple moons early, but is relegated only to camp duties until shes 6 moons old.

She trains alongside Cracklepaw, Tigerpaw, Molepaw, Goatpaw, and Silentpaw. At her first gathering she meets another apprentice, maybe a few moons older, from the other clan: Jewelpaw. The two hit it off and become good friends (and develop little mutual crushes). Sheeppaw also sneaks out and meets a kittypet: Player, who she also becomes very good friends with.

When her mentor, the deputy, Shadowstalk fails her on her final warrior assessment she pretty much has most of the same reaction as the show, just in the WC style.

After witnessing a murder, she hightails it out of there and encounters the newly named Crackletail. Panicked, she hastily and vaguely tells him she saw something and needs to Leave.

She makes it to Players yard and lays low for a while, and he introduces her to the neighbor cats, a sibling pair named Zack and Ivy. The four brainstorm and Sheeppaw is renamed Carmen. They know they cant let VILE keep doing what they're doing. So rogue Carmen and her kittypet friends start figuring things out from behind the scenes.

Pirate Cat:

Exactly as it says, bipedal cat world. Black Sheep was dropped off at a random orphanage in England, with a small stuffed black sheep (where she got her name). Since everybody are cats, Black Sheep isn't that atypical of a name. Sorta a mix of normal people names and cat names.

She grows up there alongside her self-appointed older brother Graham. When she's about 10-11ish she meets the princess: Julia Argent. Childhood friends to lovers letsgoo (its a recurring theme in these lol. its cute i like it).

The two eventually get together (in secret, yay homophobia and also societal status) It doesn't help that Black Sheep had a habit of getting in trouble so she could see the princess her princess.

The two get caught one night, and Black Sheep is nearly executed for "corrupting royalty", but Julia manages to talk her father down from that. Instead, she is exiled. If she ever sets foot in the kingdom after dawn, she WILL be killed this time.

Julia visits one last time, and Black Sheep promises to return someday when she finds somewhere where they can be together freely. She gives Julia her stuffed sheep to look after while she's gone, and asks her to take care of Fuega while she's gone (on one of their sneak-outs, they found a baby dragon that Julia managed to convince her dad to let her keep). Julia gives her the triangle choker. yay tearful goodbyes ;-;

Black Sheep and Graham (because no way is he letting his little sister go into exile without him) go from place to place, stealing when they need to and end up accidentally stowing away on a VILE pirate ship.

VILE pirate training to avoid death, they escape. Graham appoints the newly named Carmen Sandiego captain of their little ship, and they also pick up Zack, Ivy, and Player along the way. Carmen becomes very well known around the globe: civilians/lower class people see her as a Robin Hood hero (correct), while most royals and nobles see her as nothing but a filthy pirate (incorrect).

A few years go by when suddenly the crew gets word that the King of England is trying to marry off his daughter, who has recently come of age. Cue panicked race home + childhood lover reunion.

Daughter of Poseidon (Carmen Sandiego and the Olympians):

Percy Jackson AU! Replace Percy with Carmen, Grover with Player, Annabeth with Julia, and switch/move around some plot points and that's about it lol. I keep telling myself I'll do some scene rewrites of this one so we'll see. Includes PJO and HOO acting as prequels for Carmen Sandiego. Def wanna do dome rewrites for the canon show for this AU too lol

Dino Squad:

I'm out here combining one obscure kids show with another lol. If you haven't seen it, Dino Squad is this early 2000s animated show about these 5 teenagers that get mutated and can turn into dinosaurs, and go around stopping the bad guy from turning everything into dinosaurs. (I think the entire series may be on youtube lol. its goofy but man i loved it as a kid. i wanted dino powers so bad)

This is basically a high school au but most of Team Red has dinosaur powers. :P

In this, Dr. Bellum is experimenting with bringing dinosaurs back, but instead of just cloning them, she figures out how to mutate already-existing organisms into others.

(in the OG dino squad, the bad guy IS a dinosaur that evolved into a human--long story--and believes everything should still be dinosaurs. hes technically right, tbf, if the meteor hadn't hit they prolly still WOULD be dinosaurs. why does bellum want dinosaurs? because she's Bellum and she Can lol)

Carmen Wolfe and her twin brother Graham (they're fraternal twins. why? bc i thought it would be funny. yes he still has his accent. its my world i do what i want) are raised by Carlotta and Dexter Wolfe in Kittery Point, Maine. Carlotta is a paleontologist/biologist and Dexter is a history and geography teacher at the high school. They do know of VILE and what Bellum was working on and have been monitoring it in secret from the kids.

Carmen and Julia are those friends that met bc they were both hiding under the slide in like. Preschool and just stayed friends lol. They're the kind of best friends that will just. Show Up. usually Julia at Carmen's house because "You have better snacks" also Julia's parents just Don't Like Carmen. (Why? idk bc i said so. idk they think she's a bad influence. she's really not lol) Literally Julia has like a spot on the couch and a table setting. She's basically the third twin these three have known each other essentially their entire lives.

Zack and Ivy joined the group in middle school, when Ivy had the same class as Carmen, Julia, and Gray. Zack joined via association. (Zack and Ivy, on the other hand are not twins. again. bc its funny. each sibling pair thought the other was like them. zack and ivy thought Carmen and Gray were just normal siblings, and Carmen and Gray thought Zack and Ivy were twins. Julia had to explain to all of them it was not the case lol)

Player is Carmen's online friend that the whole group includes. they all game together and he gets ALL the public school tea. hes about the same age as Zack, so about a year-ish younger than Carmen, Gray, Ivy, and Julia.

At the end of their freshman year, Carmen and Julia start dating. Their friends and Carmen's parents know, they keep it secret from everyone else. At the end of the summer everybody (aside from Player) go to the beach for one last day of freedom before school starts. They swim through the mutant goo, and over the next few days discover their powers.

Carlotta IDs each dino: Carmen is a (large/person sized) pyroraptor, Gray is a T. rex, Julia is a troodon, and I still cant decide on Zack and Ivy's dino forms lol. Carlotta and Dexter explain the whole VILE thing and the group just kinda simultaneously goes "welp guess we're superheroes now. cool"

so yea dealing w highschool and also mutant dinosaurs and superpowers. this ones fun bc they can just be stupid kids lol

The Last Wolf:

My werewolf AU. The one that started all this mess and my love for making AUs of this show. It was my first fanfic i ever wrote, and it is very near to my heart. it's also gotten out of hand and become a franchise at this point it's ridiculous. (Seriously i've got a prequel of her parents planned and also a series of shorts set in the universe) It's gonna be a long ride, boys. Hope people still like CS by the time it's done lol

A Thief's Guide to the Zombie Apocalypse:

Zombie apocalypse AU! Talked about this one a bit for AU day, and also as of this post I have ~1k words written of the first chapter! I also have a bunch of the major plot points outlined too ;) I wouldn't expect anything soon tho lol.

She wears a wetsuit under the coat bc it's really hard to bite through, especially with rotten jaws. She's got some boots she probably scavenged or traded for, and of course: the Walkman she probably found looting some abandoned building. She collects cassettes to listen to. Gotta keep sane in the end of the world.

How is this one a literal apocalypse and its still more lighthearted than the one based on FNAF lol

Redd Wolf (Five Nights at Redd's):

FNAF AU. I've truly lost it lol. I have this one completely outlined, nothing written but a lot of things are VERY clear in my mind. This ones uh. a lot more intense than even Thief's Guide. It's FNAF. its immense violence and child death. Seriously, Carmen, Player, Gray, Ivy, Zack, and Julia all end up possessing animatronics at some point. It ends happily, but it is based off a horror thing so if that's not your thing b careful <3

its supposed to be more of a mystery that gets unraveled, but if anyone wants specifics of it u can drop an ask :) i only have animatronic designs for Carmen, Julia, and Gray so far tho. I have ideas for the others too.

This is one I wanna share with y'all at some point. its probably the shortest of the AUs I have outlined so far, so yk. maybe in this lifetime lol.

Carmen and the Age of Wonderbeasts:

Mega Jaguar Carmen. This ones more of a ~vibe~ than an actual plot but i like drawing mega jag carm :)

Plushie Dragon:

This one's not an AU, but actually based on doodles of these 2 plush dragons! Matching red/gold and blue/silver dragons named after carmen and julia lol. I'll get around to posting more drawings of em cause they're cute

the plushies <3 (they have spikes u just cant see em:

ik they look goofy i lov them anyways

Wings of Fire:

Wings of Fire AU! Carmen is a rainwing/skywing hybrid (rainwing dad, skywing mom) She can camoflauge, fly decently fast, and has a prehensile tail. She can't breathe fire or use typical venom, BUT she figures out her venom, while not face-melting by itself, IS in fact flammable. again, more of a ~vibe~ than a story and plot, but I like drawing dragons.

Canon Carmen:

She's front and center, the one that started all this.

Way back in 2019, the autism and ADHD departments in my brain came to an agreement: This show is the greatest show of all time.

It was the first fandom I actively contributed to/interacted with. (I still read fics from other fandoms before, but had never been active in a fandom) Like I mentioned with Last Wolf, I had never actually written fanfiction before, and definitely never posted it. I love writing and telling stories (and boy howdy do I have A Lot of stories rolling around my brain). between all of the AUs ive come up with, I've gotten to practice so much worldbuilding and characterization. English classes usually focused on expository stuff, with like. a brief fiction writing thing. So I've definitely gotten to stretch my creative writing muscles with this show, and hopefully I can put em to use on original projects someday <3

I fell in love with the first season, and got ridiculously excited for every new season and the interactive. (heck, i played every possible option for the interactive the day it came out, and binged every subsequent season the day they aired.)

This show has been a big part of my life the last five years, and the original show will always be special to me. It's the reason I started learning to draw people lol, I have a drawing of Carmen from 2020 that I'm still really proud of. It's hung on my bedroom wall to this day.

So thank you, Carmen Sandiego. For everything.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for lying to my friends due to a psychological disorder?

Ever since I (21F, american) was quite young (I would say around my 9 or 10 years) my mother noticed I had a tendency for lying, sometimes even for no reason at all. Some years after that I started going through therapy and psychiatric sessions and was diagnosed as bipolar and, more specifically, mythomania (compulsive/pathological lying, the diagnostic changed depending on which psychiatrist I went through). My manic episodes usually last longer than the depressive ones and, when those happen, I usually just lock myself from everyone in my bedroom (I rarely leave home even during manic episodes due to my own fear of anything bad that could happen outside)

And I'd say it's during those manic episodes that the bad things start to happen. Ever since my early 17s I started fabricating my own life to online friends since I have extreme difficulty making friends on real life. This ranged from stuff such as me saying that I'm disabled and that's why I don't leave my house (not true, I can do it when necessary but otherwise I am able bodied) and other simple, white lies to stuff like my relationship with my family and living condition.

It was in 2021 I think it started to go downhill. I still don't think I was in the wrong for it since, again, it is a mental disorder but I decided to come ask others too since the one friend I have that knows about it thinks I might be an asshole about this in specific.

Around 2021 I started playing a specific game with gacha mechanics. To this point, the image I had painted to most online friends (with the exception of that one friend) was of a girl on her 20s with a good relationship with her mother but a bad one with both her dad and brother (a lie, as our dad left us when we were children and I have a pretty good relationship with my brother), disabled and in bad living conditions. Because of that, it had been some time (since the beginning of the lockdown) since some of these friends started sending me money whenever I said I needed it for one reason or another (usually to buy food or necessities like hygiene products) and, since I didn't need it at all, I would just end up using it on stuff I enjoy like art supplies or makeup.

The moment I started playing that game though (which none of my friends knew about since they still thought I didn't have my own computer), I started spending all of that money on the game to pull for characters. It wasn't a constant thing but it got specifically bad on 2022, when a character I really enjoy was released.

I still think it's not that bad since none of them gave me a lot of money anyways, but after what I already had was spent on the game and I didn't have any money to buy the currency, I went to the discord servers venting channel and started writing by impulse stuff like how my dad had evicted me and me alone from the house after I stood up to him and now I was living in my cramped old car on the streets with no food, clothes etc. Some of those friends got extremely worried or something like that and ended up sending me more money than usual so I could 'pay for a hotel' until I had time to get government support etc (I don't really know how that works anyways, but I said I'd try and thanked them a lot for it and said that as soon as I was safe I'd draw something for them as payback but I never did because it wasn't really like it was a commission anyways) and I spent it on the game to get the character and I did!

I had to keep the lie about being homeless and then getting government support ever since and last month me and my "real life partner" (not real but i made it up a few months before this so i just used it as a excuse that he was working to get us both a place to stay) were finally in a safe apartment. However, one of those online friends knew about my condition and started to suspect about it all and got angry at me for no reason, saying that I was stealing from my friends and being unfair on even denying that to her. After that she blocked me but I was able to lie to the server that she had threatened me and implied I was lying about it all which wasn't true because that was my real living situation.

I still don't think I am in the wrong, they all did offer it to me on their own after all and I already spent it so there's nothing I can do. Am I the asshole for lying due to a mental health condition?

What are these acronyms?

[khaohomies]

TTTE OCS I'VE BEEN WORKING ON, YAY!!!

The sillies... (I'm too lazy to draw trains)

LORES UNDERCUT!

Milo BR Class 90

Human name: Milo Mansfelid

Freshly out of the workshop, it's true to say that Milo is new to the world. Because of this, he's very unaware of his surrounding. He is a very approachable engine, loving to chat about random new topics he found interesting(The topic can literally be anything). He can go on and on forever and very unaware of how the others think of it. He have a very open and optimistic point of view and doesn't mind opening up a conversation with anyone, this causing some problem when the conversation is not appropriate for the current situation. oh boy he LOVES gossiping and talking behide someone's back. When his chattiness get one someone's nerve he isn't afraid to snap and taunt them back, causing him quite a joker reputation in the railway.

Note:

During his early years. Milo doesn't have a name, only a BR numbers. He got his name from when he ask his first driver what he was drinking, thus the name 'Milo' origin.

He've never visit the island of sodor, but would love to if they ever install electric polls

Love reserching and learning random knowleges.

He learned many creative and hurtful insults he can use from Bulldog.

Bulldog BR Class 55 'Deltic'

Human name : Bud Ballin Burton

Your usual grumpy engine. Losing many coworkers and friends from both roads and rails to scrap and accidents can be quite hard. The large diesel mostly keep to himself, not wanting to build up many relationship with the others. The few that he have close relation with are his crews and few vehicles and rolling stocks. The class 55 is the type to get easily annoyed and can be seen snapping at the others, this putting him in many problems with the others. But don't worry! He eventually tone down with the help of his close coworkers and Milo.

Note:

He used to be one of those ''I HATE STEAM ENGINE!!!" Diesels but quickly come to his senses years later.

His driver call him "bulldog" because when he snap at the other engines, his driver think of a dog barking.

When he did laugh he laugh LOUD

He was annoyed by Milo at first meet but eventually keep him around cause' he's fun

He went from "We all are going to get scrap anyway so why should I care" To "We don't last forever so lets make the most out of it"

Share things he knows with Milo

(human) Milo is literally the reason he quit smoking

Milo and bulldog have mentor/apprentice and Sibling sort of dynamic and they did other shenanigans with the other mainland engines

+ Some face concept of milo!

[thedeb]

Hello there dear Undertale au fandom

This will be a bit of a rant but I'm going to talk about my reasons for taking a break and hopefully be able to quit and also talking about the fandom.

First of all, I'm very aware the fandom would not give one or two flying poops about me since I'm a small account but I still wanted to make this.

The reasons why I'm quitting and the talk about the fandom will be mixed so

The reasons I'm quitting are because I realised I'm never going to get anywhere in the Fandom I did everything anyone could name and nothing worked 2-the fandom makes me overly uncomfortable and I don't know why 3-its taking a terrible toll on my mental health, I have been fixated on the fandom for years and it's just ruining me.

Also, the fandom is just insane not in a good way, MOST not all of the fans are selfish and refuse to go outside to see that other people are alive as well and it's not just only them, they feel entitled to everything and they cross boundaries daily and are just mostly straight up rude, despite the fandom being a pretty good size the people littery have 0 urges to communicate with other fans I have been literally begging for friends in the Fandom but only ended up getting 2 in the span YEARS and I understand why people don't want to blindly make friends but also the fandoms NOT friendly at all I'm general, especially towards small accounts you barely get any support and even if you do it's a tiny group of people, i feel like they absolutely despise small accounts for 0 reasons and they literally do nothing to help you on your journey and also try to claim that their good people and love to help and painting a picture where their all a Saint in which is not true.

More info about me: you guys need to keep in mind that I have terrible depression and I struggle with being neurodivergent there's 0 way for me to get diagnosed in the country to know what I exactly have that's under the umbrella In the country i live in and it's impossible to get any help, all therapists will do is try to shove some pills down your throat, but me being in this state still doesn't change the fact the undertale au fandom is setting itself up for failure.

Also, another thing I should mention is the fandom has normalized a lot of things that should NOT&nbsp; be normalized, this goes for a lot of fandoms in the end however au fandom isn't the only one I want to say there are a lot of things I want to quit like drawing, I love drawing but I can't handle it anymore.

I want to get rid of my fixation on the characters that's why I'm only going on a break for now in hopes I can get myself to stop making my mental health suffer because of a stupid fixation, I hope I can quit drawing and the fandoms I'm in, I'm just tired of people not understanding not everyone's rainbows and sunshine or just "silly" I'm not silly IM MENTALLY ILL and I'm tired of being labelled as silly by people online for being terribly depressed or just struggling with being neurodivergent.

That's all.

Hope this will be one of the last drawings I do.

[nemo-of-house-hamartia]

A Fragment of My Soul

“Come on, Antoine! Cooperate! Help me with this!” The older woman raised her eyes at the sky, as if to ask God to grant her the patience that she was so sorely lacking. “No, Colette, no. I told you already, I am not convinced by all of…this.” Colette, ever stubborn, brought her hands on her hips, puffing her chest up. “And I told you that it will work! Trust me, sister: they have been dancing around the whole issue for MONTHS now! At this pace, they will never declare to one another! They just need a little push from us! Their Cupids in the flesh!” Colette’s golden eyes twinkled with benevolent mischief at those last words. Antoine gave her younger sister a long look, before turning to peak out of the window that faced the courtyard of the small house: emerald green fronds welcomed her inquisitive eyes, pomegranate trees and an entire orange and lemon orchard with their branches reaching toward the sky, bountiful with ripe fruits that just waited to be picked. There, almost hidden away from the view, she could see an easel and canvas standing beneath the pomegranate tree and just behind it, a solitary painter working on his artwork, his dark leonine hair tied with a black ribbon. She needn’t her eagle vision to know who that was.

Antoine draw a sigh as a profound crease appeared between her brows. “It’s too risky, Colette. We have no means to know if what you are concocting will go well. What if…what if she’ll break his heart? What if you are wrong, and she doesn’t reciprocate his feelings in the same manner he does? You have seen him: he is completely lost for her, worse than he has ever been for…for that salope that almost killed him. If she were to reject him or toy with his feelings-” She flexed her hand instinctively, allowing the hidden blade to slither out from under her wrist.

Colette’s eyes widened at that sudden display of aggressiveness, and gently grabbed her sister’s arm, making her retract the blade.

“Peace, Antoine! I beg of you! Dorlé would never hurt Mathias! She has a kind heart and a gentle soul.”

“So did Emmanuelle, and we were all fooled by her angel’s face and sweet duplicitous words,” Antoine growled through bare teeth. Mentioning that name alone made her want to spit in the ground. Even after so many years, Antoine’s rage still burned as hot as a vulcano, never relenting, only growing in strength.

Colette sighed, her eyes turning sad and took a peak out of the window, until she saw her brother as well.

“I can understand your reticence in showing trust to anyone that would get closer to Mathias, Antoine. I truly do. But let me ask you this: do you trust me? Do you trust my judgment?”

Antoine’s shoulders slumped.

“Of course, pollita. You know I trust you,” she whispered, wrapping an arm around Colette’s shoulders, in a sweet hug.

“Then trust me when I tell you that Dorothea is not Emmanuelle. Her feelings for Matis are sincere and of the most profound nature; she made me intend as much when I tried to ask her. And if this isn’t enough to convince you, I found an entire folder of poems that she had written, and while I am not one to snoop-“

Colette giggled at the face her sister’s made: they both knew she was lying and was never able to keep her nose out of others’ business.

“-Well, I do snoop around, but it’s ALWAYS for a good cause! Such as in this case! Antoine, I read those poems, and trust me when I tell you that even you would have versed a tear, and have no further doubt of the sincerity of her feelings for him! Dorlé wrote poems upon poems for Matis, and never showed them to anyone! What cause would she have to write them, if not because her soul is pining for him to love her in return?”

Antoine stood silent for a moment, her eyebrow raised as she pondered: if what Colette was saying was true - and she never had reason to believe her sister a liar, especially when Mathias was concerned- then that strange English woman that had come from another time altogether might truly be harboring sincere feelings for her brother.

Feelings that, she knew, Mathias needed like the soil needed water to in spring to bear fruit in summer, after his heart had been broken by Emmanuelle.

“Trust me, Antoine: Dorlé is utterly besotted with Mathias. She is just… an absolute disaster in showing him how she feels!”

Antoine could barely contain a muffled giggle, the one that only her sister’s harsh honesty could bring out of her.

“If that's the case, then, they are perfect for each other,” she conceded, thinking about how much Mathias himself, while proficient with his words when matters of the Brotherhood were concerned, was utterly clueless when it came to the words his own heart whispered to him.

When she turned to look at Colette, she saw her sister still staring at her, expectantly.

“Very well, gordita, we will do it your way.”Antoine raised her hands in defeat, letting out a throaty laughter. “What do you propose?”

Colette return the laughter, her face plastered with the intriguing smile she always had whenever she was up to some mischief.

“You know that Mathias has been working on a painting, recently?”

“Of course I do. I haven’t been able to access your part of the garden ever since he has started painting under your pomegranate tree.”

Colette nodded with understanding, before speaking.

“And do you know the subject?”

“No, Colette, I don’t. You know how private he is about his own creations. I never asked him to share anything he didn’t want to, and I’m surely not starting now.”

“Well, I just so happen to have snooped aroun-“

“COLETTE!”

“It’s for a good cause!”

Antoine sighed, raising her eyes to the sky and shaking her head.

“Lord give me patience with this one. Very well. What of the painting?”

“We need for Dorlé to see it. She needs to see it! If she sees it and Mathias finds her there, they will finally talk to each other about their feelings! I know it.”

Antoine’s lips thinned in a contrite frown.

“You want to put them in a corner.”

“You can call it this way. I prefer “they will finally face what everybody that is not blind can see!”"

The Master Assassin crossed her arms, shaking her head.

“It’s a gamble, Colette.”

“No, Toinette,” she smiled again. “It’s a leap of faith. And we’ll need Xavier to be our scapegoat,”

Antoine produced a sound halfway between a snort and a chuckle, but Colette knew, from the look she gave her, that she had finally managed to convince her sister.

“As if I needed any more incentive. Lead the way, baby sister: let’s make this happen.”

Mathias raised his face to the sky, his dark inquisitive eyes scouring through each soft cloud that swam against the darkening empyrean vault of that summer sunset.

From where he stood - hidden away in a small corner of the back courtyard, just underneath Colette’s favourite pomegranate tree- he could see the green valley and peaks that surrounded Granada, and, if he tended his ears a little more, he could hear the playful sound of the nearby brook as it bubbled down toward the valley, its cascading rhythm a lullaby for the soul.

Mathias closed his eyes, allowing himself to take a deep relaxed breath, feeling the fresh wind of the upcoming evening brush his dark locks and tickling the skins of his arms like the most gentle of caresses.

So rarely he allowed himself to roll up his sleeves, whenever he was out in the open; so rarely he allowed himself to bare the skin of his arms, a mangled spectacle of scar tissue that extended from his hands to his neck, encompassing the entirety of his back and stomach.

With an almost defeated chuckle, as he cleaned his brushes in a water-filled glass, he could almost hear Antoine scolding him for hiding them and then, as she usually would, starting a tirade about how those scars were the reason Colette was still alive, and that he deserved to be celebrated for what they represented, rather than being made to hide away as if he were some form of grotesque monster.

Mathias knew better than to argue with Antoine over that, remaining in silence until his twin sister was done with her tirade. But eventually, he would always resort to cloak his whole body from the rest of the world, much like he did with his heart. He couldn’t bear to have others to look at him with pity.

He stopped his thoughts in their track, his lips thinning in a sour grimace as the truth show itself to his face: he could bear the world’s piety upon him, if he had to.

It was the thoughts of her eyes looking at him in horror that made him want to cloak himself.

With a quick nervous gesture, he washed the brush one by one, trying to erase those doubts from his tormented mind. The familiar routine helped him calm down, if only for a few seconds, as he dried the brushes against a thick rag he had hanging from his breeches, completely unbothered by the stains of colours that were decorating his garments.

They were a small price to pay for what those pigments were contributing in creating.

e looked at the canvas in front of him, quickly examining once more, and held his breath as he looked straight into the eyes of the young woman portrayed on the canvas: such peculiar shade of blue that loved to play with the light, sometimes tending to the silver, like the reflection of the moon in a pond, sometimes tending to the warmer hue of the periwinkles that grew in the meadow around their home.

But there was more than that: mirth hidden in the small crease underneath the lower lid, wonderment in the shine of the light against the blue…the most profound of love in the entirety of her gaze.

With a long sigh, he wished he had the courage to ask her to sit still in front of him for just a moment, so that he could drink from her eyes and see within them all that his soul yearned for.

But he couldn’t.

And would never bare his feelings for her.

Not ever.

She was a woman of genteel disposition, it was evident in the way she moved, in the way she addressed others.

He had nothing to offer to her, but the love from his broken damaged heart.

And despite the verity of his feelings for her, he knew they were not enough.

He was not enough.

“MATHIAS!”

A loud, brash voice - Antoine’s - called for him, all the way from across the courtyard. He took a deep breath, his shoulders slumping: her tone of voice didn’t promise anything good. But he was somewhat grateful for his sister to have stopped his mind from spiraling. Nothing like Antoine’s own anger to distract him from his self-pitying. He raised his eyes, only to meet his twin’s, who was standing at the window of her room at the second floor.

“WHAT?” he shouted back.

“XAVIER HAS DONE ONE OF HIS MISCHIEF AGAIN AND I NEED YOU UPSTAIRS!”

It took all of Mathias’ willpower not to huff in exasperation.

“WHAT FOR, TOINETTE? AM I XAVIER’S GOVERNESS, REQUIRED TO LOOK AFTER HIM AS IF HE WERE A CHILD? I FAIL TO SEE HOW I CAN HELP.”

“IT’S FOR HIS OWN GOOD THAT I’M CALLING YOU HERE. LESS CHANCES OF ME SKEWING THIS PENDEJO AS HE PROPERLY DESERVES. DON’T MAKE ME COME DOWNSTAIRS AND TAKE YOU BY THE SCRUFF OF YOUR NECK. COME INSIDE. NOW.”

He rolled his eyes, snorting.

So much for peace and quiet.

If only Xavier didn’t have the penchant on getting on Antoine’s nerves doing precisely what she always asked him NOT to do.

He turned to look one last time at the painting in front of him, and smiled again with the sweetness that that particular work of his always brought out of him.

“What would I give to see this look on your face, instead of this canvas…” he thought, wishing to be able to find the courage to say those words out loud.

Then, squaring his shoulders as if to take courage, he took the dirt path that would take him back to the house, even if his heart was still anchored to the canvas and easel underneath the pomegranate tree.

“OH NON, NON, NON! PUTAIN DE BORDEL DE MERDE!”

Dorothea’s eyes widened like two saucer plates when she heard the string of profanities leaving Colette’s mouth, as she raised her eyes from the small cloth she was embroidering.

“C-Colette? Are you alright? In Heaven’s name, what is going on?”

The dark haired woman was onto her before she had the chance to even stand, offering a taste of a dark, dense mixture.

“Taste it, Dorlé!”

Doing as she was told to, Dorothea took a tiny sample of that mixture, as the sweet taste touched her tongue.

“It-it is delicious, Colette!”

“It is A DISASTER!” she babbled, taking away the spoon before Dorothea had the chance to taste it again. “I knew Xavier would mess this up! I KNEW IT!”

When Dorothea saw Colette throwing her arms up in the sky in an exasperated gesture, she furrowed her eyebrows, concerned.

Leaving the embroidery work on the soft wicker chair where she was sitting, she reached her, taking the taller woman by the shoulders- something easier said than done, considering how much taller Colette was compared to herself.

“Colette, deep breath. Deep breath, my darling,” she whispered, guiding the friend in the same was she usually guided herself. “What happened that sent you in a spell? Whatever concoction you gave me, it was as delicious as always?”

Colette took another deep breathe, shaking her head in silent disagreement.

“Dorothea, ma louloutte,” she started, her voice almost condescending.”I appreciate your reassurance, but not even your sweet words can actually hide the fact that the sauce was a complete disaster! Xavier has messed up because when I asked him SPECIFICALLY to bring me pomegranates from my own favourite tree and he didn’t. He lazied off -as always-“ she added, snorting with impatience. “And brought me the first pomegranates he found. Just wait until I have my hands on him…”

Dorothea let out a nervous chuckle.

“You could…tell the difference between pomegranates?”

Colette’s lips stretched in a proud smirk.

“Of course I can, Dorlé! It’s my job knowing and being able to discern the difference! The same way your ear can discern a note that doesn’t flow with the rhythm of the song, so my taste buds know when something is wrong with the dish!”

Dorothea smiled back, nodding in understanding.

“I can see what you mean. But what will you do now?”

Colette’s smile widened, her eyes now twinkling mischievously.

“Now, my darling Dorlé, I need your help to rectify this mistake, because otherwise my sauce will be inedible and I cannot stand for it! Mathias asked for his favourite dish tonight, and I cannot cook it WITHOUT the sauce from my pomegranate tree!”

Dorothea blinked and she felt her cheek flushing at Mathias’ name.

“I-that would be an immense shame indeed.” she fumbled between a whisper and another, as she always did whenever she thought about the gallant man. Mathias never asked for anything for himself, not even when it came to something as simple as food. But, every once in a while, when the mood stroke him, he would quietly request to his sister if she could cook for him his favourite savory dish, and Colette would never refuse.

Noticing that Colette was staring at her, with a knowing expression on her face, Dorothea blushed even more and tried to clear her throat.

“We cannot allow for this to happen, Colette.”

“Ahhh, the words I wanted to hear from you, ma cocotte! And that is why I need you - who I know would never fail now that you know what’s at stake - to bring me those godforsaken pomegranates!” But before Dorothea had the chance to even agree with her, Colette had already put a whisker basket in her hands and was gently pushing her toward the door in the back of the kitchen.

“Hurry, ma chére! Or tonight we won’t eat!”

Dorothea gave her a soft look and a smile, before she turned on her heels and trotted down the grassy meadow that brought to the back of the courtyard, barefoot as she always was ever since the summer had arrived in the Kingdom of Spain.

She smiled with herself, as she went through what just happened, a smile that only Colette always managed to get out of her, with her vibrant personality.

She actually admired how punctilious the young cook always was whenever she cooked.

Dorothea couldn’t feel any difference in quality in the sauce that Colette had her sample compared to what she usually cooked for them, but the young woman always sworn that the fruit her favourite pomegranate tree bore was the only one that would give the results she was looking for.

Dorothea hadn’t see fit to debate with that, for her knowledge in that regard was naught.

She has learned, in the couple of years spent with the De Beaumont, NEVER to discuss nor contradict Colette in matter of food. The young cook was imperative in the way she moved around the kitchen - an Empress in her own right - and Dorothea was always happy to play the obliging vassal to her every whim.

She was the best of friends, most loyal of them all, and they have grown as close to each other as if they had been born sisters from the same mother and father.

Chirping her low tune, a lullaby that Byron often sang to her when in Dover, she took a turn toward the corner of the garden that Colette had suggested.

Dorothea noticed that the hamper was not as heavy as it had been when they first arrived in Granada.

Before meeting the De Beaumonts - before falling down that fracture of time that had brought her to a different era altogether- Dorothea never had any reason to do menial work: her lady mother didn’t deemed it proper of a woman of her station, and her father never allowed her to, telling her to leave all the tasks to the staff of the house.

And now instead, it was an integral part of her every day routine.

Waking up early, when the sun was just about to cross the horizon, to wash the garments in the clean waters of the river; caring for the horses that belonged to Mathias and Antoine; picking the vegetables from the garden that Mathias tended, when his obligation with the Brotherhood weren’t imperative.

She looked at one of her palms, and saw the callouses that never went away, no matter how strong she scrubbed them with pumice or how long she soaked her hands in warm water and rose oil. Her hands had become rougher, not as soft as when she was still in 1868.

She thought about how her Lady mother would probably recoil at that sight, so improper, so unbecoming of her.

Her limbs as well had grown stronger, toned, and she has become more agile than she ever had any reason to be.

Tending to the chores in the morning, spending her afternoons riding with Mathias and Xavier in the glorious Andalusian countryside contributed to it, and Colette’s own nutritious cuisine helped as well and, she reckoned, not being constrict by her crinolines all day and being free to run around as much as she wanted had also a reason to it.

A simple life, far different from the one her parents had prospected for her: a life spent one gala to the other each evening of her young womanhood, twirling in the arms of strangers who were after her title and money; eventually married to one of the strangers her family deemed worthy of her, someone that would bring honour to the Order as well as wealth that would render them all richer; then, at last, Mistress of the House and mother to frolicking children that would, one day, follow in her footsteps and belong to the Order as well.

A much simpler life indeed, but one she had grown to love for all the joys it brought her, despite the everyday difficulties that it presented.

Dorothea smiled, with a tinge of melancholy: thinking about her previous life made her wonder how Phillip and Charles were faring…before she caught herself and remembered that they didn’t exist yet. It was such a strange feeling whenever she stopped to think about it, thinking of them as only distant in place, rather than separated by Father Time itself.

With trembling fingers and a chasm of pain opening in her breast, she touched the locket around her neck and brought it to her lips, giving it a long kiss, as she always did whenever she felt that treacherous sadness wrench her heart in a grip cold as ice against the skin.

It was the only memento she had that her family ever existed.

Despite having had two whole years to adjust to it, she knew she would never come to terms that all those smiling faces did not yet exist anywhere in the world.

Her mother and father and Byron would be born in more than 20 years from now.

Her cousins in almost 50 years.

Would she meet them again? And what about herself? Would she be born again?

What would happen in 1868, if by Gods will, she was still alive by then? Would two Dorotheas exist at the same time?

And who would be the real Dorothea? The one that had fallen in the past? Or the one that was yet to be born?

What would happen if she were to go back to London and meet herself?

Each time she tried to unravel all of that -all the ramification of her being dragged back in time- she felt a headache drilling in her brain and a rusted nail twisting without mercy into her heart.

“Stop it, Dorothea,” she thought, wiping away a small tears that was threatening to fall from her eyes. “Just stop it. Focus on the present. Focus on what you have now,”

And so she did, stopping in her track for a moment to catch a deep breath and cleanse her thoughts. And when she allowed her mind to ground itself to the present, she found her way through the dark moors of her mind, through the brambles that still scratched mercilessly against her skin, guided by the splendor of the full moon that set her life alight each night: Mathias’ sweet smile and his nose crinkling whenever he was bemused; his deep laughter whenever Colette jested with him… his dark profound eyes that always seemed to read into her soul whenever he glanced at her, as if he could truly see her heart.

Her lips parted, suddenly feeling without breath as his face appeared in front of her eyes with blazing clarity, clearer than anything else, as warmth spread from her stomach until it reached her cheeks, rendering them as red as ripe apples, as it always happened whenever the man’s gentle visage found his was to her mind.

His voice, melodious even while simply talking, resonated clear in her mind, and she couldn’t help a small shy chuckle from leaving her throat when she remembered the peculiar way he pronounced the “s”.

So immensely endearing.

So incredibly dear to her heart.

She would recognize his voice among thousands.

“Oh, Mathias...Sweet Mathias…my Mathias…” she whispered under her furtive breath, secretly, as she always did when she allowed herself to utter his name out loud with all the feelings she had to keep concealed each time she spoke to him.

Night after night ever since she realized that she had fallen for him, she had played with him - for him - every single romantic tune she knew in her repertoire, hoping that something -anything- would somewhat tip him in learning of her feelings for him, small sign that would reveal to her if he felt the same way she felt for him.

She knew he held her in the greatest of esteem, always courteous, sometimes almost deferential in the way he approached her.

But she knew that was the way he treated every person he respected and cared for.

Such was his nature.

But, she thought with herself, furrowing her brows, she always wondered if there was something more?

Could there be..something more, something just for her?

As she reached Colette’s pomegranate tree, her shoulders slumped a little.

There could not be a way of knowing, if not asking himself directly.

And that required an initiative and a courage that she wasn’t sure she possessed.

She had found a family again in the De Beaumont, who had opened their arms for her, welcoming her as if she had always belonged with them sharing with her without boundary, when they had so little to spare for themselves.

They had given her a family again, after her own was lost to her forever.

She could never risk destroying that harmony they had created altogether in the past two years for something as selfish as her own feelings, if she were to come forward to Mathias and reveal to him all that she felt.

She could not bear to be the one responsible to destroy it, just to follow the whims of her heart.

Oftentimes, when she found herself in the company of Antoine and Colette at night, she had often heard the stern woman discussing their history as a family, and something in their past that had left Mathias with the strongest desire to be celibate for the rest of his life.

She never went into details about what happened exactly, and she knew that the reason was her presence, so Dorothea always knew better than to ask any question. She always listened to them, as quietly as a bird hiding in its nest, never daring to intrude, but each time she felt her heart sitting on her stomach a little heavier than before.

“What is going on with me today?” she mumbled beneath her breath.

Her own mood was always somber - that was just the way she naturally was- but today she felt particularly prone to mulling things over in a way that was almost disconcerting.

Taking another deep breath, she allowed her lungs to fill with the intoxicating aroma of the orange and lemon trees, the frangipani in bloom whose flowers Colette often used to create oils for all of them to use. She knew because she recognized the very same perfume on Mathias’ shirt, whenever she went down the river to wash it.

She plucked one of the flowers hanging from the lowest branches, and after taking in that sweet scent, she nestled it behind her ear, a soft smile finally touching her lips. She finally turned around the old orange tree that was growing there - the welcoming sign that she reached Colette’s pomegranate tree, but when the small corner of garden came into view, she stopped in her tracks.

An easel and a canvas stood right beneath the pomegranate tree, sitting alone like two old ladies enjoying the pleasant air of the evening.

Mathias’ own work, no doubt, she thought with a sweet smile.

She looked around with curiosity, expecting to find him somewhere in the proximity: it wasn’t like him at all to abandon his work like that. “Mathias?” she called, just to make sure she was completely alone. And no answer came back to her. She focused her attention once more on the canvas: from where she stood, she couldn’t truly make out what the subject was, and curious like a cat, she tiptoed closer to get a better view of it.

Dorothea’s eyes widened as waves upon waves of mixing emotions-confusion, bewilderment, incredulity- all rippled through her whole body. It took all her control not to let the basket slip from her suddenly unsteady hands.

She wanted to take the canvas to observe it better, because she couldn’t believe what she was looking at, but she dared not: even to her untrained eye, she could see that the paint was still fresh.

Leaning toward it, Dorothea felt her heart racing in her chest. It was yet to be finished: the background merely sketched; the woman’s garments only a vague shape in different shades of pallid pink; even the pose was not definitive, although, from the way the subject was leaning, it suggested that she was caught in the middle of a performance, a fiddle in her hands. However, the subject was not crossed, despite the apparent interruption: the dimples caused by her wide smile were welcoming the observer to sit close by and listen to her playing her tune. Dorothea could almost hear the tune itself in her ears.

Her gaze now wandering again all over the canvas, she couldn’t stop admiring the details of the face: a round visage painted with delicate, meticulous strokes framed by golden white ringlet, each freckle- small as a dot- carefully painted all over her nose and cheek. But it was the woman’s eyes that gave her pause: clear as the water of a pond touched by the sun rays, with the softest expression painted within them as she looked straight in the eyes of the observer, an undisclosed tender request written in that gaze that she recognized all too well.

She felt for a moment as if someone had seen right through her.

“Dorlé? What are you doing here?”

The low gentle voice behind her made her jump in her spot. She turned just to meet Mathias’ dark eyes, now boring straight into hers, a deep crease appearing on his forehead, as he moved a wayward lock of hair away from his brow. Dorothea could have sworn he was almost scared to see her there. But why? “I am sorry, Mathias, I was-“ she babbled, tripping on her own words. “ I swear I did not touch the painting! I was just looking at it! I know I was not supposed to look at it, and I apologized for letting myself do something like this! I-Colette asked me to fetch some pomegranates from her tree for tonight’s dinner and-“ But she couldn’t bear to finish the sentence, as her attention again diverted toward the canvas. She took a tiny step toward it, to make sure that her eyes were not betraying her. And they were not. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “Mathias, how-“ she murmured, turning to look toward the man standing just besides her, his shy eyes not daring to meet hers. “This is-” “You.”

His voice was barely a whisper when he raised his worn face, as a tense smile stretched underneath his dark moustache.

His heart was trembling, strong as timpani in his chest.

She wasn’t supposed to see the portrait until it was completely done.

Truth to be told, no one was supposed to see that painting. Ever.

There was nothing indecorous about it, nothing that would elicit a reaction of disdain or be reason of suspicion of impropriety on the artist’s part: no one would deign the portrait as anything less than the most respectful homage to the subject in front of him.

But Mathias so rarely paraded to others what he immortalized on canvas: through his paintings, he bared his soul in ways that couldn’t find purchase through words, and none but himself would be able to understand the yearning in each stroke of his brushes.

And now that the woman for whom his soul has been singing since the instant he had met her was looking upon one of his most intimate creation, he couldn’t do anything but stand terrified that she would read right through him.

As he looked upon her, he felt that his already broken heart quiver in his chest. It was not strong enough to withstand any possible rejection from her. Not from her.

Feeling the unrest grow more and more unbearable with each passing moment, he felt more than ever the need to unroll his sleeves and put his gloves back on, to hide the sight of his scars from her.

He knew she had already seen some of them, somewhat.

After two years of sharing the same house, it would have been impossible to avoid it completely, no matter how much he tried to.

But she had never witness the true extent of those scars, the way they run on his arms, branching through his back, enveloping his chest all the way up until his neck.

Not until that moment, where they were exposed for her eyes -those eyes he loved most in the world- to see. The weight on his chest was becoming too much to bear with each passing second, the lump in his throat impossible to swallow.

“Pardonnez-moi, Dorlé, I need to be alone,” he mumbled under his breath, turning to walk away as he started to unroll his sleeves.

Before he could move any further, Dorothea grabbed him by the arm, quick as a wink, with the gentlest yet firmest touch she could muster.

“Don’t, Mathias. Please.”

Her gaze run to his wide back, to the ink-black leonine curls that hang from his ponytail and barely covered his neck. She felt her heart swelling thrice its size for all she felt for him: she thought she would not be able to breathe anymore.

“Do not run away from me. Do not…” she swallowed hard, chest heaving. “Do not hide away from me. Please, Mathis…I beg of you.”

Her voice was pleading, a soft prayer.

Mathias’ breath caught in the lump in his throat when he felt her hands against the skin of his arm, a touch like a blazing fire for all it caused within his soul.

He stopped in his track, docile as a lamb, as he always was when she requested anything from him. She could ask him to bare his life for her, and he would do it without even thinking twice about it.

His chest tightened at the thought, as he comprehended how the immensity of the love he felt for her ran through from his heart to all his being.

He couldn’t stop a small sour smile from touching his lips: had Antoine known of his thoughts, she would be so immensely crossed with him, for he had learned nothing from Emmanuelle.

But how could he?

How could he love Dorothea less than she deserved because of what happened to him? Because of something another caused?

How could he let his past dictate his present like this, and ruin those feelings that actually made him feel alive again?

How could he deny what was in his heart, broken as it was, just because he had the misfortune of not meeting her first?

Dorothea. Dora. Dottie. Dorlé.

His Dorlé, he thought with quivering lip, if only he found the courage to breathe into existence what his eyes couldn’t conceal anymore any longer.

His out-of-time love, who had fallen into his life so suddenly and yet had fitted immediately as if she had belonged there with them.

With him.

The very tune of life that made his soul sing again.

He wanted to turn. To look at her and drink from that face he loved in the same way the moon loved the sun at each eclipse, in those few desperate moments where they shared the sky together, entangled in an embrace for one refulgent minute.

But he couldn’t find the courage.

Despite his absolute terror for fire, he thought it would be easier to run in a house put ablaze than turning to look at the woman he loved, for fear to see pity -or worse, disgust- in her eyes.

He took another deep breath, trying to calm himself.

Dorothea felt those breaths and her hands trembled, her whole being quivering when he still wouldn’t turn to face her.

She lost courage, but just for one moment, before she felt her natural determination surging from the deepest parts of her heart, tingling in her fingers like pure fire.

She hadn’t survived in 1790s France just out of dumb luck: she knew that she had to steel herself, if she was to ever find a way to get through that time that was so close to hers, and yet so vastly different.

She was her mother and father’s daughter: they had defied her own grandfathers’ will, Count Bielke and Robert Starrick, to marry each other and create the foundation of their family in England.

“Mother’s mirror, Father’s Pride”.

That’s how Byron would often refer to her, whenever she was in doubt.

She would not give up.

Not when her own heart was at stake. And stubborn she was, and so completely lost for him, she felt she couldn’t reason rationally any longer.

She finally found the courage in herself to do what needed to be done.

Gently, almost hesitantly as he was still turned away from her, she moved her own hand from his wrist to his own hand, brushing his palm with delicate touch before interlacing their fingers together.

All she could focus on was how warm his touch was. How gentle those hands always were whenever he pressed the keys of the piano, or patted the horses when he thanked them for carrying them around in the afternoon or when he took her hand and he led her in a round of minuet.

She looked at the scars on the forearms as well, following the course of their pattern with sad eyes.

How much did he suffer from them?

She remember getting burned once, as a child, while playing too close to the fireplace in Dover, and it had only been a small patch on her wrist where some cinder had landed; but it had been enough to make her feel unbearable pain and made her still want to cry whenever she thought about it.

She could scarcely imagine that pain multiplied tenfold and on so much of his body.

She could scarcely imagine withstanding against it, dueling with death’s grasp tight as a coil, and despite all odds, ending up victorious.

Dorothea smiled, understanding in full the pride Antoine always felt for Mathias whenever she talked about those scars.

Before she could let her own timidity stop her, she finally leaned against his back fully, gently pushing herself against his lean frame, and wrapped her arms around his waist, enveloping him in the sweetest embrace she could muster, with all the strength her body allowed.

Such strong heart, he had. Such strong, gentle heart that nothing -not even pain, not even death- could render of stone or insensible. And how she loved that heart with all that she was.

She laid her cheek against his shirt, completely flushed against him, determined as she was in not even letting the air they breathed to stand between them, just so that she could hear the strong thumping of that heart against her own skin.

Mathias’s lips parted, as he almost gasped for breath at that touch, feeling his soul tremble in his chest like one of the chords of Dorothea’s violin.

“How can you hide away your hands from me? Those hands that can create such beauty, even when there is none to be found?” she murmured, feeling a tear running down her cheek. “Those hands that are capable of giving so much comfort to those who are in pain, even when you have no comfort nor piety to spare for yourself?”

He had no words to give, no answer for her questions. His whole mind was abuzz, unable as he was to focus on anything but her closeness, his eyes trained on their fingers interlaced together. A violinist hands enveloping the grotesque hands of a gargoyle, he thought bitterly. He tried to regulate his breathing, to be as still as water in a pond on a tranquil day, almost terrified that, if he were to move, she would let go of him. Then, he heard her voice resonating all the way through his chest, as if reverberating from his own very soul.

“Mathias…how can you feel so much shame in front of me? I could never think any less of you for what you bear on your skin. How could I? You, who are the one most dear to me in the entire world?You have given to me from the heart from the first moment we met, without asking any question, without asking for anything in return. Even when the only explanation I had to give for what happened to me was impossible to comprehend and absurd at the very best, you believed me and helped me finding a sense amidst my own confusion. You made sure I was never to feel loneliness nor want, not even for one moment.”

She whispered, hiding her burning face against his shirt. “Can’t you understand what you mean to me? Can’t you understand how you make my heart sing? Can’t you understand that all my sorrows end with you? Can’t you feel how much I love you?”

It was done. Despite all her senses whispering to her to stay silent, she couldn’t any longer. Not when everything that made her soul was shouting at her his name over and over again.

Mathias wished he had a better control of his breathing or the butterflies he felt in his stomach at her words. Instead, he could only blink, to keep the tears of absolute bliss from falling from his eyes.

He felt as if paralyzed: How- HOW- could it be? How could fate finally have turned to his favour, and granted him the one desire he had found himself wanting more and more with each passing day spent beside her?

Dorothea let out a melancholic at the silence still lingering between them. Maybe she was wrong in opening her heart like that: she didn’t want to ruin the friendship between them, even if it meant loving him without being loved in return. She had never fallen in love before, so what did she really know about love, if not what she had read in her books? What did she know about love, if not about Isolde and Tristan? About Lancelot and Guineviere, whose love trascended time and space? She slightly released her grasp, ready to let him go: but Mathias' hands wrapped around her own, firm like she never experienced before despite his usual cautioun, silenty stopping her from leaving his side.

Mathias took a deep breath and calling upon all the courage he could find within himself, turned around, to finally face the woman that had just opened her heart to him.

Quivering under his dark moustache, his lips stretched in a soft, sweet smile that painted his face with a softness he so rarely showed to others.

His dark eyes shone with tears - tears of joy - that he could barely repress, as he looked at the woman in front of him and found in her eyes the same countenance that was in his.

He cupped her round face with trembling hands, tentatively, terrified she would retract from the touch of his maimed skin.

Instead, gentle as a lamb, he saw Dorothea nestling her cheek in his palm, nuzzling against it like a cat would, and his heart throbbed in his throat at that gesture.

She didn’t retract herself from his touch. She wanted to be touched by him. She sought to feel his skin against hers. She wanted him.

“Do I scare you so much, Mathias? I promise I do not bite.” She jested, smiling that crooked smile he adored so much. Mathias let out a nervous laughter, one finally born out of relief. “How could I ever be scared of you? You, the sweetness of every single one of my thoughts? The only dream I dare to dream while wide awake? My answer to the endless prayers I raised to a deaf God each night of my life since after the fire?”he murmured, feeling a tear rolling down his cheek ”Dorothea…tú eres mis alas para volar,”

Dorothea’s heart skipped at his words, her head spinning as if drunk just from the sound of his voice, filled as it was with heart-wrenching yearning.

“I-I am?” she breathed, incredulous.

He dared to lay his forehead against hers, cradling her face in his strong hands, finally daring to look straight into her eyes without having to hide anything anymore, without having to steal longing glances whenever her attention was diverted. He finally saw the colour of her irises, in that summer sunset that was their witness, in that garden that had nothing less than the garden of Eden.

“You are. You have turned all my tears into laughter. The solace I feel with when I sit besides you…the hope, the possibilities that my life is not just the cinder and embers left from that fire, but that it can also be rebuilt into something new. Something as beautiful as the breaking of dawn after a long night without a star twinkling in the sky…I thought I had lost it all a long time ago.”

He brought her face even closer to his, until they were just a breath away from each other’s lips. He felt tears rolling down his cheeks and, to his surprise, saw the same tears falling from Dorothea’s eyes. But there was no sadness in her gaze. Only unbridled joy. The same one he felt in every single bone of his body.

“But you, mi amor, mi vida, mi alma…You are the peace of my soul, and the light of my poor broken heart,” he murmured. “I see God in your smile and sanctuary in your eyes; I hear my soul reaching to your voice, resonating as if it finally found the answer to its call. I see my home in your heart… I see my everything in you.” He stopped just for one moment, leaning even closer to her. “In you, I see the reason for my every breath.”

Dorothea felt all air leaving her chest, mouth agape from those words that she never thought he would whisper to her ears. Allowing her heart to finally dictated his will, she covered the remaining distance between them, throwing her arms around his shoulder before pressing a sweet, innocent kiss against his lips, those same lips she had yearned to kiss for almost a year and a half. Mathias felt a chasm opening in his stomach at that kiss, so soft and giving, yet unmistakeably eager for more and more, a kiss that was as wanted as much as it was yearned and needed and desired. He returned each of her kisses with his own, his hands cradling the back of her head so that no distance would stand between them., in between those kisses. Among those trees, in that small corner of Eden that he never thought to find on Earth, Mathias felt the perennial storm that always raged within slowly losing strength, the winds of his pain that often howled at his memories finally quieting down until only a comforting silence remained, as if something, a shield of some sort, was wrapped around his heart and kept those wolves at bay. It is her, he thought. His Dorlé. All of sudden, Mathias felt a small giggle against his lips and opened his eyes, looking at Dorothea with curiosity. “It tickles,” she whispered under her breath, nuzzling the tip of her nose against his upper lip, just below his dark moustache, the instigator of her mirth. Mathias chuckled with her, his eyes crinkling as he kissed the tip of her nose. “I used to sport a clean-shaven look in my youth. Perhaps, you would prefer me without my moust-“ But she stopped in his track when she saw her furrowing her brows, in a look that, he knew, she mastered from observing Antoine herself. “Do not dare to touch your beard and moustache, Mathis, or I shall be immensely crossed with you,” she murmured with a perentory tone that admitted no contradiction, but that was soon betrayed by a smile that brightened her whole face." I love the way you are, Mathis. I do not wish for you to be any different than you are, in any aspect of life," “As Milady wishes,"Mathias laughed, planting another sweet kiss on her nose and forehead, before interlacing their fingers once more. "Far from me to make my love crossed with me.” Dorothea blushed at his word, and Mathias, feeling some of the cheekiness that was usually Colette’s, nuzzled his nose against hers. “Does it please you, when I call you that? My Love? Mon amour?...Mi Amor?" Dorothea wanted to maintain an air of decorum, collected as she always was, but the shivers of pleasure that ran along her spine hindered her effort, when she heard him whispering to her in his native Spanish. All she could muster was a shy nod, before hiding her flaming face against his shoulder, in a gesture that illicited the most profound sweetness in Mathias' heart.

He kissed the crown of her head, breathing in the soft perfume of the flower she weaved in her tresses, in a sigh of relief that weighted on his chest for far too many years.

"Mathis?" he heard her call him, raising her timid eyes once more.

"Yes, mi amor?" he said again, chuckling when he saw her blushing again: he would never call her anything else, if it meant seeing her cheeks turning as red as apples.

"Will you-" he heard her clearing her throat. "Will you look at the stars with me, tonight?"

Mathias tilted her face so that she could look at him once more, his gaze turning even softer as he counted all the freckles that graced her face.

His own stars on the sky that was her gentle visage.

"Every night of our life, if you wishes," he whispered, daring to brush his lips against hers one last time.

Dorothea's own happiness couldn't be contained at his words, as she allowed herself to get lost in his kisses once again.

"I do, my love. For every night of our life."

From Antoine´s room, Colette was smiling widely, as she sat on the windowsill, her leg hanging outside the window as she swing it with almost childish joy. She could not hear a single word her brother and Dorothea were saying. She could not see them, hidden as they were by the branches of the tall trees that surrounded that particular corner of the garden. But Antoine’s look -her face strangely at peace as she perused in the same direction she was watching- was more than enough to tell her that her plan succeeded. And no greater joy could fill her heart, for in knowing that her dearest companion and her adored brother had finally found one another, she felt her soul at peace. “See, Toinette?” she giggled as she poured some wine in two glasses, one for herself and one for her elder sister. “I might not be an Assassin and have your perception, but I might know a thing or two about Love and its whims,” Antoine chuckled, her lips stretching in a smile. “I’ll concede that, pollita: you know your stuff.” she took the glass of wine that her sister offered, and drank it all in one shot, “So you better start preparing a list for a nuptial banquet, because if I know Mathias- and trust me, I know him- it won’t be long before we are going to celebrate a wedding in our house, and even less long before we will be hearing the pitter patter of tiny feet running around the house…unless you and the that reprobate of Novice Dorian aren’t planning on beating them on time? “ Colette sputtered some of the wine she was drinking, turning as red as the ribbon she had tied around her neck. “How do you-“ Antoine let out a throaty laughter, filled with mirth. “Oh, pollita: you sure as hell are one expert of “Love and its whims”,” the Master Assassin took the bottle and again filled her glass with wine.”-but you have still a lot to learn about discretion,” She leaned toward her younger sister, and toasted to that evening summer. “To your health, Colette,” then she raised her glass in Mathias and Dorothea’s direction. “And to them. May the fate be kinder to both of them, this time around.” Colette giggled, joining her sister in her toast. “It will. Because this time, we will be there to make sure of that!” “How can you be so sure we will succeed, Colette”? The young woman laughed with mirth. “Because if there is something I learned, is that even Fate Itself is terrified of you, when it comes to Mathias!”

AND THERE YOU HAVE IT.

ALMOST 9K WORDS OF PURE FLUFF, INTROSPECTION AND WHATNOT.

But not going to lie, I love writing this.

It gave me the chance to finally give a voice to my Unity darlings, and by the Gods, this renders me incredibly happy.

Thank you, Susie, for suggesting me to write about Mathias and Dorothea <3

I hope you all will like this <3

--Nemo