#there is only (1) lovesick fool in this house

[fabled-fiction]

Cregan Stark x Targaryen daughter of Rhaenyra

I don’t have a deep plot but I do have an idea. What if reader takes the place of Jace and flies to encourage Cregan like in the recent episode and he’s mesmerized by her beauty? 👀 Something along those lines — feel free to add or change it! ☺️ Thanks!

Snowflakes, Stolen Looks, and Beating Hearts

(Cregan Stark x Strong!Reader)

Summary: When you are sent with your brother Jacaerys to meet up with the Lord in the North, Cregan Stark, some feeling being to make the both of you light headed and forget just exactly what duty calls from the both of you. 

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: MAYBE POSSIBLE SPOILER ISH FOR EP 1. Yearning, possible OOC for Cregan (love does things to a man can you blame him??), Use of (Y/N)

A/N: This took…too long to write. I wanted to make this a yearning lovesick-y fic of Cregan that I have been DYING for and kept mulling over all the details. BUT ALAS it is here, I hope it filled your request and you all enjoy!!

You never thought that you would see snow.

You always wished to see it, having heard of its beauty. Ice falling from the sky in beautifully small flakes that seemed to be sewn together by the gods.

Looking at the palm of your hand, you smiled as you studied the pattern of the snowflake. Its exquisite beauty only lasting mere seconds as it began to melt into the valleys of your skin. A small frown made its way in place of your smile as you temporarily mourned the flake, before you wiped your hand on your cloak.

To think this place was blanketed in such beauty for the entire year.

Just ahead, Jace took a glance over his shoulder as he stared at the spectacle that was you. You stood next to your dragon, still as ever letting the snow collect on your hair and shoulders. You looked statue-esque as you continued to catch snowflakes, admiring them before they met their inevitable fate. Lost in your own world as you took a moment to forget about everything that had been plaguing you for the past few months.

He wished he could do the same, even for just a moment. Arriving at Winterfell, had him feeling on edge. For his whole life Jacaerys had protected you, feeling it was his duty to make sure nothing ever hurt you. The both of you, him being the first son of Queen Rhaenyra and you the first and only daughter, had grown up to know the true meaning of duty. This alone had bonded the two of you practically to the hip, it did not matter that you were older than him.

Looking back at you, he smiled as he saw how much snow had collected on your hair…people could mistake you for a “true” Targaryen…

That alone reminded him of the reason they were there.

“(Y/N)...c’mon we mustn't be even more late than we already are to meet with Lord Stark. Nightfall will be upon us yet…”

He watched as you finally looked up from the palm of your hand and sighed. Shaking the snow off of your head and shoulders, you rushed to meet his pace.

“I must say, I quite like this cold. It's much better than the humidity we face on Dragonstone.”

This earned a chuckle from Jacaerys. “Is that what you think of now? Not what to say to Lord Stark? What words to sew together to ensure he is our ally?”

“I do not need to take such action. Diplomacy comes easy to me. Besides, the Starks are known to be loyal to a fault.”

That much was true. Jace wasn’t entirely sure why he felt such anxiety with this meeting. It could have been that the simple act of ensuring allyship meant that war was truly upon your house. Or perhaps it could have simply just been that he did not wish to look a fool aside you as you expertly made your way through conversation with Lord Stark despite this being your first meeting. Since the both of you were small you had a knack for persuading people with your words. The Silver Tongued Dragon, you had been known as not long after this talent was found out.

Yes, he had nothing to fear. This would all go smoothly.

“Lord Stark, Prince Jacaeyrs Velaryon and Princess (Y/N) Velaryon of House Velaryon have arrived.”

Cregan nodded to the squire, straightening his cloak as he strapped Ice to his back.

This meeting in particular was one he was not too entirely worried about. House Stark had bent the knee to King Visery’s when he named his daughter as heir to the iron throne. This matter had been in the back of Cregan’s mind, with many more pressing matters being his top priority. He supposed that is why he often did not make the best first impressions, as his priorities were not that of the common list that many found themselves concerned with. He did not take an immediate interest in the pursuit of heirs or of ensuring that the house had a formidable reputation. Duty was his priority.

This meeting was a matter of formality to him. To ensure that he would stand behind Queen Rhanerya and support her in whatever way he could, without crippling the defenses on the Wall.

His hands reached back to tie his hair halfway up, his eyes focusing on the black ice of the steps. As his fingers struggled to snap the band around, he finally looked up to meet the faces of the two young dragons.

When his eyes met yours, everything seemed to stop.

It was as if the snows knew to freeze this moment over, so he could have the chance to meet your eye.

Cregan Stark had heard of the beauty of the old Valyria. He listened to the stories men shared of the silver haired house that brought out the darkest of temptations of man. How their men and women held a grace about them that had wives and husbands lust for just the touch of their hand on theirs.

As he looked at you, he felt that those stories were watered down backswill of a drunkard. There was not a word within the all known language of the Seven Kingdoms that could describe what he felt in this moment as he had the fortune to lay his eye upon you. He felt his grip on the banister tighten as he took in the sight of you. You, who looked up at him with the most mesmerizing beautiful eyes that only looked at him. 

It wasn't until he saw the rise and fall of your own chest did he remember to breathe.

“Lord Stark, It's an honor to make your acquaintance.”

Looking over at your brother, Cregan cleared his throat as he made his way down the stairs to properly shake his hand.

“The honor is all mine, to host the both of you here. My apologies for the weather, but it is the North.”

His accent stuck out to you. On Dragonstone and even throughout the Keep, when you had stayed there once upon a time, people often shrouded themselves in uppity falsehoods. Either to seem as if they were meant to truly walk amongst you, or to be someone entirely different from whence they came. It was part of the reason why you were so glad to have fled to Dragonstone, there were not as many falsehoods there.

So to see Cregan Stark have no fear in brandishing his weaponry, and speak to you in the laced tongue of the North was refreshing. You were drawn to the way he felt as if the niceties of royalty were second thought. As if the both of you could afford to toss aside pleasantries. It made you smile.

There was something else to be said about the Northerner. Just the way he stood before the both of you alone was enough action to intrigue you.

“Lady Velaryon, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

When his hand enveloped yours, you felt your breath catch in your throat. His eyes did not leave yours, as he lifted your knuckles to his lips.

“I wish it under other circumstances, Lord Stark.”

Giving him a small smile, the two of you stood there eye in eye. He had yet to let go of your hand as the two of you held each other there. When you stood this close to him you were able to get a better look at the man they had named Wolf of the North. Cregan Stark stood before you, dressed in fur and leather, bowing as he held your hand. You couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter as he held your eye. A flurry of grey and blue looked at you, purely you, and you couldn't help but feel as if that's all he wanted to do. Just as you stood there now, feeling consumed by the eye of the storm and wanting nothing more but to throw yourself to the whims of the winds.

“Lord Stark, Is there somewhere more private we could discuss?”

Feeling the hot stare of Jacaerys gaze on you, you regrettably took your hand from Cregan’s grasp. The imprint of his warmth on your skin remained, even through the leather, making you bring your hand to your chest as you bowed your head to him quickly.

Clearing his throat, Cregan looked at Jacaerys with a nod before motioning to the large metal lift.

“ ‘Course, let us talk atop the Wall.”

Jacaery’s held your eye for a moment as the both of you followed the Wolf. His eyes held a question within them as the two of you silently spoke. He had watched that whole scene unfold, having been a bystander to the tension that grew with every second that Cregan held your gaze. You simply rolled your eyes as you shoved him before following the Northerner into the metal cage.

Closing your eyes, you froze for a moment to feel the northern winds run through your hair and cloak. Snowflakes found themselves resting on you again, drawn to the warmth that ran through your Targaryen blood. As the lift brought you higher and higher into the sky, level with where you flew your dragon, it almost felt as if the air in your lungs crystallized.

“So tell me Lord Stark, What is this that falls from the sky and shivers my bones? Is it not still summer throughout the isles of the Seven Kingdoms?”

Cregan was so lost in his jealousy of the snowflakes that rested upon your skin that he almost didn't hear you speak. It wasn't until you had opened your eyes and looked at him through your lashes did he realize you had addressed him.

“This is only a late summer snow, my princess. In the true winter it will cover all you see, any memories you hold of warmth will be forgotten.”

“Sounds..hauntingly beautiful. Whilst this is my first time seeing snow it is my understanding that this is not the first time our ancestors have met here to treat? If I am correct it was the…Conqueror and the King in the North?” 

Jacaerys felt a relief fall over his shoulders as he heard you expertly laced the matter at hand into conversation. His eyes landed on Cregan as he watched the man hang onto every word you spoke. Not once had he looked at Jacaerys after the three of you stepped into the lift. His eyes never left you even before you spoke. He would like to think that it was because of the presence and attention you demanded. He had seen it many a time before, people could not look away from you whenever you entered a room, and their fates were often sealed after you had started to speak.

But, something else lay within his gaze. Jacaerys had seen that look before. The look of total awe and devotion to the other.

It was the same exact look he gave Baela.

“Surely the great Torrhen Stark would have sooner died than bent the knee. Unless of course he believed the Conqueror could bring unity to the Seven Kingdoms?” 

Cregan looked over to Jacaerys with a sigh. This meeting was meant for diplomacy, he had to remind himself of this as he looked to the Prince. He felt a crease grow within his brow as the three of you walked throughout the icy walkways of the top of the wall.

When your hand reached to hold his arm, he felt a fire light in his chest at your touch alone. It was as if you took all his pain and worry, forbidding it from plaguing him. When he took the opportunity to look over at you, he felt the ice in his veins thaw. 

“What my brother is getting at, Lord Stark, is that there is a threat upon the unity to the Seven Kingdoms. One that would tear the realm apart if the men and women who swore an oath to our grandfather do not remember who the rightful heir is. You understand our concerns do you not?”

“Starks do not forget their oaths, my princess…”

Looking at your hand placed on the crook of his elbow, he swallowed as he rested his hand atop yours.

“Can we depend on your men if the time comes that the Hightowers declare war upon our mother’s claim to the throne?”

Looking at Jacaerys, Cregan swallowed. He should not have felt torn, but he did. He needed his men here, to defend the wall from that which dared to plague Westeros. There were forces that lay in wait, that threatened the sanctity of not only the North but the South as well. He did not wish for his duty to falter in this dire time of need. But he had seen the worry in your eye. He knew that you were dependent on the power of the North if your mother’s throne, if you family was meant to remain the next in line. Another part of him wanted to promise whatever he could, whatever you needed just at the drop of the word.

“You must understand my hesitation, my Prince. Whilst I wish for nothing more than to offer you the whole of which the North has to offer, I must keep my army here to defend the Wall. Do you think my ancestors built a seven hundred foot wall to keep out snow and savages?”

As the three of you approached a divet within the wall, all of a sudden a very overwhelming dread filled your stomach. Looking over the edge, you saw nothing but a vast forest, covered in snow. But for some reason, the dragon within you faltered. Every sense you had was screaming at you to back away from the ledge that you took further steps towards. 

“What does it keep out?” Jace asked, as he felt his heart fall in his chest at the sight of you taking a closer step to the edge of the Wall.

“Death.”

You took a moment to look over your shoulder at Cregan once hearing the declaration. You had heard stories about the meeting place that took place here. How when King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne stood in your very spot, their dragons refused to cross the threshold. It made your stomach drop just at the idea of there being something more beyond the wall. That was a thought for another time however.

Both Jace and Cregan watched as you stood still as a statue once more, looking over the land of the North.

“I understand your hesitation to pull your men from the Wall, Lord Stark. It is quite the responsibility you have here,” Taking a step back, you swallowed as you smoothed your hair back. Jace offered you a hand to steady yourself as you took a few steps back from the edge.

“All we ask is that you provide whatever you can when the time comes. In return I personally can promise you’ll have mine when needed.”

Cregan sighed as he looked between the Wall and you. That alone had just sealed his fate, that he truely would give you whatever you needed, especially now knowing that you felt a duty to protect what was his as well. He could see it in your eyes when you looked over that edge. You believe his tales of things that lurked in the dark, just as he believed you when it came to the vile words of treachery.

The both of you would need the other soon enough yet.

“I can offer you thousands of greybeards. They have seen far too many winters, having grown a distaste for the cold. Their skills are well honed, and they can be ready to fight at a moment's notice. They will fight hard for you, like Northerners.”

There was a visible tension that dropped from the both of your and Jace’s shoulders after his words. Your brother rested his hand on your shoulder as you clasped your hands together in front of you. Jace then reached forward to shake Cregan’s hand with both of his.

“Thank you Lord Stark. Your promises will not be forgotten.”

Finding your way beside the both of them, you clapped your hand on both their shoulders with a beaming smile.

“Lets celebrate shall we?”

-

He couldn't take his eyes off you.

You sat across the table, the warmth of the candle light that lit up the meeting hall suiting itself well on your cheeks. You had settled in well at the opposite head of the table, chatting with other Northern women. You were content, from as well as he could tell.

His eyes hadn’t left you since the minute you found yourself in his halls, drinking his wine and eating his food. There was something that stirred in the pits of his stomach as he…provided for you. In the ways of war and also in the niceties of comfort. You had taken well to both, and he planned to bathe in your presence for as long as he could before you took your inevitable departure.

After that he wasn’t sure he would see you again ever.

While he should have been fine with that, as he had told himself a multitude of times that courting and the ways of society were well beyond his interests, something made him sick at the idea of letting you just slip away because of some silly notions he had been telling himself. You had bewitched him at first glance, and as he had taken in more of your presence throughout the day he could rightfully say that you had taken up a space in his mind if not in its entirety. 

His hand gripped his chin tighter at these thoughts alone.

“Lord Stark…” 

Shaking his head, he looked over to see your brother standing beside him.

“My prince, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Jace motioned to the chair besides Cregan, sitting down as the Lord motioned him. Taking one last look at you, as you laughed aloud at whatever the person holding your attention had said, he figured he could spare a moment of his attention being somewhere else.

“I just wanted to come by and thank you once again for pledging your support. I know it was not your responsibility to ease my anxieties but you did anyway, and I am grateful for it.”

He gave a curt smile to the prince, turning his body to face him to ensure that he was indeed involved in whatever conversation Jacaerys had meant to begin. However that could not be further from the truth as his mind began to wander.

“A Stark never forgets their oath. I would not be the man I am today had I intended to ever break it. “

“I figured as much. My sister said quite the same thing when we arrived, she being the more faithful one.”

Cregan smiled at the comment, taking another look over to you. You were alone in thought now, whoever you were speaking with having taken your attention for granted no doubt and departing to enjoy the festivities that were about. You were looking out the window, taking in the snow of the North like you had been earlier that day.

“She the smarter of the two of you hmm?” He quipped, smirking as he watched Jace chuckle to himself.

“She is the smartest out of all my siblings I would say. (Y/N) has always been a good judge of character, I don’t think I have ever seen her put her trust into someone who didn’t deserve it.”

His heart jumped at the words Jace bestowed upon him. Somehow knowing that you trusted him, that he was one of the few that could claim to have earned your admiration even within just a few words made him feel stronger in a sense. Is this what men talked about, when they said that the affection of a woman made them feel as if they could move the hills? If this is how he felt just at the mention of your trusting him, he couldn’t help but ponder on how he would feel from being the object of your affections.

“I think that might be one of the main reasons why she hasn’t been courted.”

Cregan froze, feeling himself look over at you once again. For some reason the thought did not run through his mind that your hand could have already been called for. It stirred something in him, knowing that your name was still Velaryon.

Your seat was empty when Cregan looked over again. He saw your silhouette turn the corner quickly, vanishing in a flurry of red and black.

“Enjoy the rest of the meal my prince.” Cregan laid his hand on Jace’s shoulder before making his exit in the same direction that you had.

Jace smiled to himself as he watched the man quickly follow your footsteps with haste, his cloak making a rather dramatic arch at the turn.

There you stood, looking into the sky. You looked as if you were infatuated by the moon herself, lit up only by her beam as snowflakes flitted around you. If it was possible for you to look anymore ethereal Cregan would become devote. You were cast in a halo of moonlight, so entranced that it almost made him guilty for interrupting such an intimate moment.

Looking over your shoulder, he swallowed whatever nerves he was feeling so he could actually have the opportunity to talk with you. But then you smiled at him, and he felt himself grow weak. Part of him wanted to fight against this foreign feeling, the other wanted to bask in it.

“Lord Stark, I hope my leaving didn’t come off as rude. I wanted to enjoy the cold for just a little longer.”

“Not at all. I’m glad you have taken such an interest in what others would consider harsh.”

This got a small hum from you as you held your gloved hand out. “How one could consider this harsh is beyond me.”

Cregan chuckled to himself as he came to stand next to you, watching as you studied the snowflake in your palm.

“Winter is not often kind. The cold and ice have a tendency to turn those away, since it takes so much and gives so little.”

“Fire does the same, yet people hold it in such a high regard. People should do the same with snow.”

Cregan hung onto every word you said, taking this private moment deep within. Hearing you speak so poetically, especially when the topic was anything other than the purpose of which you came. To get a glimpse into who you were, to know the person that was you made him think of a million other questions to ask just to fill out every step it took to understanding you.

He watched you closely as you brought your hand down, and held your arms when you looked up. The cloak you had dawned earlier was nowhere in sight, and if he could recall it had been left behind on your chair in the haste of leaving the room. Cregan was quick to remove his own fur lined cloak, and drape it across your shoulders. It swallowed you, enveloping you in the lingering warmth that was him.

“Thank you, you did not have to.”

“What type of a host would I be if I let you freeze?”

You laughed at his comment, a full laugh, and placed your hand on his bicep. It was still cold, from catching snowflakes, but it warmed him none the less.

“Plus, it looks better on you. The North suits you.”

A flash of blush rested on your cheeks at the comment, and made you tighten the grip on his cloak.

“Thank you, Lord Stark. I do have to say of all the places I’ve been I think I have enjoyed my time here the most.”

With a nod, he clasped his hands behind his back before leaning a little closer to whisper to you.

“Well I hope then that the next time you are here I can show you all that Winterfell has to offer..that is if there is a next time?”

You both had turned to face each other now, your hand still holding his arm as you looked up and only him now. He looked at you the same way the moon did, and you basked in the warmth of him in the same way.

Reaching forward, his hand came to hold a bit of your bang before wiping the snow from it and tucking it behind your ear. His hand came to rest on your cheek, holding the side of your face as the both of you were able to finally really look at each other without the wandering eye of anyone else.

He took his time committing your face to memory, just in case this was truly the last time he would see you. Cregan wanted to make sure his dreams were able to replicate the image of you.

You stood there, doing the same. You were surrounded by him entirely, in scent and sight. This entire afternoon when he wasn’t looking at you, you were looking at him. You could feel this back and forth game of cat and mouse that had played out, but there was a nagging reminder of everything that lead to this meeting and everything that waited after it.

Perhaps you could take this night to bask in something that wasn’t duty.

“I could entertain the thought, only if you could make the trip worthwhile.”

This earned a laugh from the northerner as he looked at you, and his thumb ran under your eye. The feeling off his touch had you feeling drunk off his attention. Oh you were absolutely certain if anyone had seen the two of you in this exact moment there would be many an accusation.

“Oh? And how exactly would I do that my princess?” He mused, looking at you tenderly

Reaching to hold the wrist of the hand that held you, you stroked his wrist and hummed.

“Give me a reason to come back, Cregan Stark. A reason that isn't just snow, or the cold. Something that is more than the North. More than duty.”

He stood there, just staring back into your eyes as he thought of the declaration. To give you a true and proper reason to ride all the way back here, where he was nothing but duty and sacrifice. To give you a part of him that was something else completely. You asked this of him as if it was the easiest thing he could sacrifice in order to see you again.

It should have been a hard request to fill. A question that should have left him tormented when giving the answer.

But somehow his answer was sealed the minute you stepped into view.

“Me…Come back for me.”

In the silent moment between the two of you, all that could be heard was the howl of the wind and the beating of your hearts as they became forever joined with just a touch.

[beefrobeefcal]

the BEEF | #1: Joel Miller

Summary: no-outbreak AU, Joel has a headache and that headache wants his attention. [based on a prompt THOT up in collaboration with @strang3lov3]

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader | Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 3,833

Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, angry fools who want to play hide the sausage, angry joel, shovel violence against a truck, monster cock, age gap (joel is in his 50's, reader is younger), p in the v (unwrapped), rough dresser sex,

Author's Notes: welcome to the BEEF. Each P-boy has a thorn in their side that has to be dealt with. Thank you to @covetyou for inspiring the idea, and thank you @neverwheremoonchild, @strang3lov3, @rebel-held & @bitchesuntitled for their brains and eyes.

and thank you to every friendo in the Bistro - it's all for you, babies.

Joel Miller was your street’s cranky asshole. No one dared throw a party or hold a garage sale without letting him know first. No one dared let their grass get over a certain length and the whole neighbourhood breathed a sigh of relief when he would go out of a town and not see the kids scribble with chalk on the sidewalks in the summer. He never called the cops; no, instead he showed up and berated whoever was hosting an event or engaging in an activity he found offensive. And he was intimidating. He wasn’t the tallest, but he was built like a brick shithouse. You’d lived on the block for almost nine years, and in that time, Joel had gone from being a broad, sturdy single father to a single, empty nester who lived off HungryMan frozen meals. He was a big man with linebacker shoulders and a meaty chest stacked on top of a boulderous belly. His plaid button up shirts always looked like they were holding on for dear life to avoid his temper.

And you were utterly in love with him.

Before the most recent snowfall, you’d been in your room on your bed with the window open a crack to let in some fresh air. Right below your window was Joel’s front porch, and as soon as you heard his door fly open, you grabbed your vibrator and listened.

“Get off my lawn!”, you heard him bellow at who ever had dared to approach his house.

You smiled to yourself and turned on your purple silicon friend and shoved it in your underwear.

As Joel berated the hapless victim of his temper, you nudged yourself closer to the edge. As you did, you cared less about the volume of your cries and let your noises out at top volume. By the time you came, Joel was standing on his porch with his mouth agape, staring at your bedroom window and the offending party walked away with a look of disgust.

*****

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

You watched as your snow shovel slipped out of your hands and hit your Joel’s truck. The one with the vanity plate ‘SM 9000’ that you had no clue what it meant. You could only sit back and watch as it fell and gouged in the paint job on Joel’s 1989 Dodge Ram pickup, your panties grew damp as you heard his front door open and slam against his house.

You turned around, raising your hands, trying to look like you were de-escalating the situation. “Joel, I-“

“The fuck’re you think you’re doin’?!”, he bellowed, stomping towards you.

As he yelled and flew into a tantrum over your shovel’s sins, you couldn’t help the stupid, lovesick half grin blooming on your face.

“… and you ain’t got no respect for no one’s property and…”, he stopped, took a breath, and looked you over, face twisting in a confused rage as he tried to figure out why you were looking at him as if he were a can of tuna and you were a cat watching him being pulled open ever so gently.

“The fuck is wrong with you?!”, he yelled, stepping forward, trying to scare you to no avail. He huffed and stomped his foot, trying to snap you out of whatever trance you were in.

You sighed and tilted your head, loving the attention he was finally bestowing on you, not caring that your reaction was essentially dumping gasoline on a house fire.

“Fuckin’ disrespectful shit…”, he snarled as he grabbed your arm and dragged you towards his house.

“Joel? What’re you doing? Where we going?”, you asked with a big dumb grin on your face then wincing at the harsh grip he had on your elbow. Your boots slipped and skidded on the icy walkway and you tripped heading up the stairs.

“Fuckin’ clumsy dumbass…”, he grumbled, shoving you through his front door and slamming it behind you both.

You looked around his entry way, noting the ugly wallpaper and the stale cigarette smell lingering. You crinkled your nose, and he turned around, his frown deepening into a scowl.

“Boots off!”, he barked, harshly motioning to your feet.

You didn’t miss a beat and toed them off quickly, kicking them into the wall. His jaw clenched as he watched the dirty snow clumps slide slowly down, leaving wet patches on his yellow-turned-brown floral wallpaper.

His eyes snapped up to yours, expecting an apologetic look. Instead, he was met with…

“Why the fuck you lookin’ at me like a love sick puppy?”

Joel was enraged. You didn’t run away or beg for forgiveness. No. You stood in his entry way, kicking your boots and making a mess, looking like he was David Cassidy or Patrick Swayze. You smiled back softly and that was the last straw for him.

“WHAT IN THE FRESH HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

You could have cum right there. Joel Miller was yelling right in your face. You’d gotten off by listening to him lose his shit at anyone trying to fundraiser or collect donations who had dared knock on his door but having a front row seat to a live performance was better than you could have ever imagined.

Joel watched your lips part and your brows twitch as they furrowed and your head tilt back slightly. He heard your breath hitch between his furious growling breaths, and his eyes slid down your parka-clad frame and he swore he saw your thighs clench.

His eyes went wide as he realized the effect he was having on you.

“You fuckin’ dirty little shit…”

The whimper he received in response made his cock twitch in his WalMart Levi’s. He sucked in a harsh breath and swallowed hard. He hadn’t had a woman look at him like that since he went to the strip club with his brother for his bachelor party, and he knew she was looking for a hefty tip. But you – the only thing he could think of is that you were trying to find a way to get out of paying for the damage your shovel caused. There was no waythat you were actually interested in him in that way. No. No woman had wanted to fuck him since before his daughter, Sarah, had been in junior high. He was a fat old asshole and you… you weren’t.

“Joel…”

Your soft voice pulled him back and the frown he carried all but left his face, being replaced with eyebrows to his hairline and his mouth open in confusion and shock.

“Joel, I… I’m sorry about your truck.”

You grabbed the zipper to your parka and pulled down, opening it to reveal your great aunt’s knitted sweater with a loon on it. Joel’s widened eyes swept over you and his brows furrowed.

“The hell you up to?”, he croaked, trying to sound intimidating.

“It’s warm in here”, you respond, tossing your parka on to, but missing completely, the stair banister.

His mind was racing. You actually seemed to be coming on to him as you stepped closer in your mismatched socks. You looked up at him through your lashes while your hands slowly slid up your legging-clad thighs and up to the hem of your sweater. He watched as you pulled it over your head slowly, getting it stuck for a moment, revealing a worn out white t-shirt with a faded image of a marshmallow peep and the slogan ‘Holla At My Peeps!’. He took another step back and you tossed your sweater at him, and he stumbled back, falling onto his recliner.

“Jesus, woman!”, he hollered, ripping your sweater off his head just in time to see you standing above him.

“You know how hot you are?”, you asked, leaning forward over him.

He froze. He must be dead. Or asleep. Or maybe he slipped when he stormed out the door to yell at you and hit his head. Or maybe he was drunk. Maybe he took a NyQuil tablet instead of the Omega 3-6-9 fish oil pills.

“The hell is wrong with you?”, he sputtered out, looking at you wide-eyed.

You didn’t answer. You only leaned forward, nudging your nose against his and letting out a breathy giggle. He tried to speak again, but his words got lost in the high pitch grunt he let out when your knee came up and nestled in between his thighs, pushing against the considerable bulge that had developed.

His hand involuntarily gripped your wrist that was supported on his arm rest, and he sucked in a deep breath.

“I know exactly what you need, Joel Miller.”, you cooed, tongue jutting out and licking your teeth, trying to sound seductive. “You need a good fuck.”

His mouth hung open in shock. You grinned wildly and kissed the tip of his nose before nipping at his bottom lip and tugging it between your teeth.

Joel let out a groan and closed his eyes, the hand on your wrist moving to your t-shirt’s hem and slipped underneath it. You nudged your knee against his crotch again and kissed him, tasting no-name waffles and burnt coffee.

The kiss seemed to break something in Joel. This wasn’t a dream, or an antihistamine induced hallucination or a concussion - this was real. You, his hot, young, stupid neighbour was crawling onto his lap and shoving your tongue down his throat.

He grunted lowly and pushed you back, looking up at you with dark eyes. You tried moving forward again, but his hand held you back.

A whine emanated from your throat, and he shook his head. “I’m not fucking you-“

You scoffed and he shushed you.

“Oh, hush and lemme finish, you loony shit!”, he huffed. “I was sayin’ that I'm not gonna fuck you in this chair; it barely holds my weight and if you’re gonna be bouncin’ on me, this fuckin’ thing’ll screw the pooch.”

You shrugged your shoulders, irritated. “Okay, fine. Then where?”

“My bed, you nimrod!”, he snapped with a scowl, then grinned. “Got a nice mattress with good lumbar support.”

*****

You had followed Joel to his room and were pleasantly… let down. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but the beige walls and the picture of a horse above his non-exciting bed were not what you had thought he would have. What surprised you was the essential oil diffuser plugged in on his bedside table, giving the air a fresh lavender smell.

The fact that the rest of his house looked like a rejected concept for an early nineties sitcom and his bedroom looked like a bed and breakfast that had no theme, for some reason, made you want him more. This man and his lack of consistency. You needed him in you now.

Grabbing his arm and turning him around, you pulled him into a desperate kiss; teeth and tongues, fighting for real estate in each other’s mouths.

“Get naked, sugar.”, he grunted as he broke the kiss with a lopsided grin. He unsnapped his shirt, revealing a grey, stained undershirt, its ribbing pulled tight and stretched over his belly while his mouth and surrounding patchy facial hair glistened with your saliva.

While he wasn’t being that polite, he wasn’t being mean. That was a problem. Even with how mundane he’d revealed himself to be, it wasn’t enough. The residual dampness that made your panties stick to your core was a result of him yelling at you out front, and that goodwill your pussy had shown was slowly drying up.

Joel’s hands began to make quick work of his belt and stretch denim jeans, but he noticed you not moving to do the same.

His hand flapped at you in an urging motion, “Make with the no clothes. Can’t fuck you with them on.”

His eyes narrowed as he noted your lack of movement, and he paused. You began to see signs that Joel was getting mad, and your mind flipped through every situation you’d witnessed him lose his shit in.  What was it that would set him off quick? You weren’t about to throw a block party in his room, nor were you a religious group knocking at his door early on a Saturday. Then it clicked.

A devious grin broke out slowly on your face as you sat on his Temperpedic mattress and crossed your arms.

“Make me.”

“You indignant little shit…”, he growled, clenching his fist.

A flutter in your lower belly. More.

“Come on. Make me.”

“You fuckin’ tease… Fuck you!” His eyes were filling with fire.

An almost painful need bloomed in your core. More!

“Fuck me yourself, coward.”

He sputtered and guffawed, eyes wide in rage.

“You fuckin’ shit! Bangin’ up my truck and actin’ like a needy Jezabel just to fuckin’ tease me like this!”

You could have cum right there, between the iron grip on your wrist and his loud belittling.

You couldn’t stop the giggle that erupted, and he snarled. He grabbed your hand and yanked you up off the bed. You truly thought his back was bad enough that the effort of getting you up alone would be too much, but he shoved you against his dresser, then slamming his weight into your back. You whined, feeling your pussy clenching on nothing.

“You’re such a shit!”, he grunted, grabbing your elasticized waistband, and yanking your leggings and panties down on one side while your hand went to the other; the two of you awkwardly working towards removing your barrier.

When they were low enough on your legs to step out of, you clumsily did so, then tried to turn around to help Joel. He wasn’t fast enough, swearing under his breath as your hands lifted his belly to access his strained button fly. His mouth was on your neck, sucking and biting like a dog on a window while a steak was being grilled just on the other side.

You pushed his jeans down around his hips and they pooled around his ankles. He kicked them off and bit down on the crux of your neck and shoulder as your hand cupped and felt up his hard cock.

Jesus. Oh fuck.

Joel was hung. Like unreasonably so. You’d had your fair share of men slamming their pork steeples into your wet cunt, but none of them could even hold a candle to the monstrosity that sat heavy and covered in satin in your hand. You planted your hand on his chest and pushed him back, needing to get a peek at what Joel was packing. You immediately looked down, seeing the Wile E. Coyote faux-satin boxers protruding out in an impressive, and frankly intimidating, bulge.

“Oh shit...”, you breathed out, contemplating on whether you truly needed to do any serious sitting for the next week, or if you could maybe just get away with laying down at work.

His hand snapped to your jaw, forcing you to look him in the eye, and he gave you a dark smile, “Showed up to a gun fight with a knife, sugar?”

You didn’t have time to respond because Joel shoved his hand between your legs and harshly began rubbing your clit.

Your eyes fluttered and rolled back. Joel watched, an approving sneer on his face.

“’S fucked up … you like this?”

“uh…. Uh-huh…”

“You’re a lunatic…”

You smiled lazily. “You’re fingering a lunatic… w-what’s that say about you?”

He paused then huffed out, “That I’m fingering a lunatic, you moron.”

You let out a throaty laugh that bleeds into a moan as Joel shoves two thick fingers into your hole, slowly dragging them out before plunging them back in.

“You’re a sick little shit… you seducin’ and teasin’ an old man, an’gettin’ me all wound up… Neighbourhood headache… that’s you. Fuckin’ shit up and walkin’ away with a smile on her dumb face.”

“’M close… don’t…. don’t stop…”

His fingers kept the slow languid pace going as he leaned in and harshly whispered, “Unlike you, sugar, I don’t like to leave people disappointed.”

His eyes never left you, watching your every move. Every involuntary twitch and shudder, every flutter of your eyelids and breath leave your parted lips. He could feel it around his fingers and see it on your face that you were feeling everything intensely and now that he had you like this, he wasn’t going to let you go without making sure you weren’t going to pull this shit again.

Joel was many things, but a man who could let things go was not one of them. He was tired of hearing you cream and cry on whatever silicon thing you were shoving into yourself through your bedroom window as he lost his shit on someone; tired of seeing you make eyes at him while you sat in your front yard as he grumbled at a neighbour for the state of their lawn. He was still furious at you for once letting your hand - your soft, sweet, tender hand - linger on his when handing him his mail that was accidentally delivered to your home, forcing him to sit in his shitty recliner and try to finish with his calloused, rough, and hard hand. He never came.

You were going to pay for that. He’d promised himself that for almost five years and now here you were, on your way to being a muppet with how his hand played in your pussy. Joel’s time had come.

You came, moaning, on his hand as he watched, his fingers still moving in and out of you, and his thumb took up the task of tending to your twitching clit. Your face twisted and you cried out, trying to push his hand away.

Your tongue felt thick in your mouth and a moan seeped out. As you rode the wave, he yanked his hand out and grabbed your arm, throwing you onto the bed.

“Goddammit, you’re such a pretty shit.”, he grumbled, reaching for your ankle, and tugging your ass to the edge of the bed. You tried sitting up on your elbows, but he shoved you back down with his body weight.

His weight. Good god, he felt heavier and better than you ever thought he could as he pressed you down into the mattress.

But he got up off you, trying to wrangle your ankles and pull your exposed pussy to just the right spot to save his back from being strained. You tried sitting up again, wanting to have some sort of control over the situation, but Joel growled and grabbed your hips, and, in an impressive feat, flipped you onto your front all while grumbling about what a pain in the ass you were.

“Can’t even fuckin’ be considerate enough to stay put…”

You heard him spit then grunt, figuring he was priming that fucking meat wagon between his legs, and you let out an impatient huff.

“Knock that shit off!”, he snapped, flicking you on your ass cheek. “You just came, nimrod. You can fuckin’ wait!”

“Yeah… but I wanna cum again!”, you whined out with a smile, trying to not laugh at how irritated he was with you.

“I bet you do… but you’re on my time, and I am a patient man, sugar.”, he crooned lowly, snaking his hand up your back and to your hip. You squirmed a bit, but his hold kept you planted in place, and his other hand held his cock as he nudged it against your opening.

The smile on your face dropped as his huge member pushed in; your mouth opened, and out came a gasp followed by a choked moan.

“That’s it… Jesus Murphy…  not even fuckin’ your throat and I got you to shut your mouth…”

Yes, you knew Joel was huge. But it was just an abstract concept up until that moment. Now that he was shoving his massive dick into you, you felt like the universe’s mysteries were now clearly laid out. You knew what religion was right, who shot JFK, how they made the moon landing look real…

Nothing in life would ever surprise you again because you were being split open by this grumpy, fat man. You were being ruined by Joel Miller.

He grunted as he pulled back and then slammed into you.

“Tight little snatch, sugar… takin’ me like a champ.”

You couldn’t respond. Your brain had melted and left your skull empty, and you were unable to do anything but breathe loudly and moan, “S’too big… too big…”

Joel snickered and grunted, snapping his hips and shoving himself deep. You wriggled and squirmed, simultaneously needing him stop and to fuck you harder. Your head began to feel faint, and your core squeezed him, forcing a groan out of him.

He began to snap his hips faster, panting and grunting like the fat kid in gym class being forced to run a mile. You whined and squirmed, trying to get your knees under your body to be able to push back against him, to get him deeper, but he grabbed your calf and bit your leg right above your sock with a growl then groaned, “Stay… stay put… don’t move… jus’lemme… lemme finish…”

You let out a yelp than melted into a moan, throwing yourself into another orgasm. Joel’s thrusts became hurried and more erratic. The high-pitched whine that ripped out of Joel sounded like a dog begging for table scraps as he shot his load into you.

He collapsed onto your back, both of you panting. After what felt like hours but in reality, was only about 30 seconds, Joel had gone quiet. You nudged him, hoping to god he didn’t die from a pussy-induced heart attack. He grunted and struggled to push himself up off you, then flopped on the bed next to you. You rolled over onto your back and looked at him. His cheeks were flushed, and his brows furrowed; his wispy salt and pepper hair stuck to his forehead and his eyes were closed. He was still breathing heavily through his mouth. You smiled, feeling a fulfillment you hadn’t since you’d convinced your parents that it was your sister who broke the CD-ROM drive in the family computer even though it was really you. Cuddling into his, your fingers drew heart shapes in his sweat coated chest hair.

Now that he’d fucked you, you wanted to clear the air as it were, and make sure he wasn’t going to make you pay for any damage to his truck. “So…”

Joel grunted in response, one eye opening and looking at you.

“I was just wondering… what’s your licence plate mean?”

He sighed and closed his eye again. He said the meaning quietly and at first you weren’t sure you heard him right.

“What?”

His cheeks flushed a little harder and he rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a huff.

“ShagMaster 9000.”

TAGLIST: @theywhowriteandknowthings @toxicanonymity @harriedandharassed @neverwheremoonchild @rebel-held @beee-haw @nevergoingbacknowshine @idolatrybarbie @v4vayha @lalocitos @xdaddysprincessxx @deathsholywaterr @heareball @lyssramscal @wintrwinchestr @nerdieforpedro  @southernbe @starkeydaviss @noxturnalpascal @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog@vabeachazn @clawdee @iamasaddie @jennaispunk @tightjeansjavi @rubyfruitjungle @lilmizmoz @strang3lov3 @pedroshotwifey @harryleatherfit @bitchesuntitled

[bubbless-s]

I love love LOVE your page. Your Harry Potter fics are my favsss. Your Kyle and Kenny headcanons were LITERALLY SCRUMPTIOUS, I WILL KEEP EATING IT UP.

But if I could, may I request the main 3 SP boys x reader please? Separately of course. Maybe they’re dating and having a sleepover together. Just hc’s on what they’d do at a sleepover with a partner.

If you could, fem reader would be preferred, gender neutral is okay though.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Pillow Fights and Stolen Hearts₊ ⊹ ᶻ !! ␥

- ʚɞ genre: fluffy! (as always no gender implied.)

- ʚɞ warnings: none (devider)

→Masterlist

Kyle Broflovski

ೀ⋆ He definitely begged his mom for this.

ೀ⋆ His mom allowed with the rule of the door being open.

ೀ⋆ You suggested the sleepover firstly and got him hooked.

ೀ⋆ “What will we do on the sleepover? Play truth or dare?” after Stan showed him the powers of truth or dare he is willing to try it out with you. A little tho! He isn’t awaiting it with heart eyes!!

ೀ⋆ Our lovesick fool made a little list of things just incase if you guys runout of things to do.

ೀ⋆ “Do you have games on your phone?” -Ike

ೀ⋆ Kyle got you a rose too! He gave it to you when you arrived at his house.

ೀ⋆ Imagine the surprise on your face when you open the door to Kyles house only to get a rose shoved to your face. A very well decorated rose at that.

ೀ⋆ The fun part is when night came.

ೀ⋆ Kyle being Kyle couldn’t sleep at all.

ೀ⋆ Why you may ask. 1. He has the worst bed hair ever! 2.What if he kicks you in his sleep?! 3. Can’t stop staring at your sleeping face

ೀ⋆ It was the most anxious sleepover to him BUT you know after rain rainbow comes.

Stan Marsh

✧ Stan had this planned out for months.

✧ He carefully planned each step like the “master mind” he is. He totally sucks at it but eh

✧ First he will impress you with his guitar skills then ask you to come over to his place for a sleepover.

✧ It was a solid plan until he almost puked out of nervousness.

✧ But things did work out in Stans favour nonetheless!

✧ This loverboy was over the moon that you agreed and went out to buy all the snacks in the world with his pocket money.

✧ Not to mention he brushed his teeth 12 times because you guys w-will..will kiss..such a blasphemy..!

✧ Stan also made a very romantic questionable playlist.

✧ “You deserve better.” - Shelley

✧ When night fell Stan and you found yourself under the covers.

✧ Sleepy but still talking. Too invested in the conversation but too sleepy to continue..

✧ The problems solution was a sweet kiss and a even sweeter goodnight bidding.

Kenny Mccormick

৻ꪆ Kenny was thrilled to have a sleepover with you.

৻ꪆ Finally he was going to see what your room looks like!

৻ꪆ Asking him to come over wasn’t hard at all, you just asked as someone would do normally and Kenny cut you off saying yes. If it was a comic it would definitely have big “!!!” marks at the end.

৻ꪆ When he did arrive at your place y’all did the casual things. Watching TV together, snuggling under the covers, Kenny chasing you to tickle your sensitive spots—

৻ꪆ Yea you heard me ladies, gentlemen and non-binary sillies, Kenny chased you till you were breathless only to trap you underneath him.

৻ꪆ For some tickles. You had to cry and beg for release!

৻ꪆ When night began its reign Kenny became more quirky.

৻ꪆ He would always steal kisses or his hands would wande—ahem Kenny Im trying to keep this family friendly.

৻ꪆ Anyway! Kenny is the best cuddle buddy out there if you are cold he will pull you closer to himself, if you are hot he will loosen his arms.

৻ꪆ If Kenny happened to be awake later on his thought could begin to wander to more evil places.

৻ꪆ But he wouldn’t do that to his darling..

৻ꪆ Until you woke up funny shapes drawn all over your face.

[sitp-recs]

BL Reclist - Part 3

Thanks to @pullatta’s encouragement I come bearing more BL gifts! This is the third part of my manga/manhwa recs. This list compiles some of my current reads (the other 3 were mentioned in previous lists: Shutline, Steel Like Silk and Semantic Error). Curiously, some of these have an art style that isn’t what I usually go for, but the plot is so good and characters so compelling I couldn’t resist. There’s a bit of everything here: pls mind the heavy themes for #8; go with #3, #6 or #7 for feel-good slice-of-slice, with #10 for a fun rivals to fuck buddies to lovers. #9 has the prettiest art and top notch angsty historical romance. #2 brings sexy & tender vampire love, #4 and #5 are the way to go if you you’re looking for adult, nuanced and introspective stories. If you wanna choose only one go with Momentum, a masterclass in intimacy. I’d love to hear your thoughts! I think this will be my last manga list for a while, wondering if I should go for anime recs next? Hmmm 🤔

1. Codename Anastasia by Boy season & eunbi (E)

Agent Kwon Taekjoo is dispatched to Russia with two tasks. First, he must find “Anastasia,” a new weapon that could change the world forever. Second, he is to avoid Russia’s psychotic killer, Psikh Bognadov, at all costs. To assist him on his undercover mission, Taekjoo is sent a partner who only reveals himself to be a man named Zhenya. But Zhenya quickly proves himself to be just as dangerous and unhinged as the infamous Psikh himself.

2. FANGS by Billybalibally (E)

As the sole survivor of a vampire attack, En wakes up to find that his hair has gone white as snow... and, worse, that he's developed a craving of his own for blood. Fortunately, the vampire health and welfare organization FANGS is there to help with the transition, and the handsome Ichii steps up as his guardian and mentor. Swept up into a confusing and lonely new world where everyone seems to be hankering for a taste of his "virgin" blood, En must navigate the FANGS pairing system, an arrangement that sets up compatible vampires as mutual feeding partners... and partners in all other ways as well.

3. Fools Remastered by Yeongha / Parkdam (T)

Eungi has been in college without being engaged with others. One day by encounter, he finds the secret of underclassman Jeongwoo. Why are you so nervous to forget? A love story that’s both easy and difficult. See original story HERE.

4. Lovesick Dog by Songhyel (E)

If one word could encapsulate Noh Ye-gyum, it would be “lovesick.” Despite him loving people with all his heart, Ye-gyum finds himself trapped in an endless cycle of being used, betrayed, and ultimately abandoned. This time proves no different for him, as the family of his current ""master"" Jooyung drives him away to pave the path for Jooyung's advantageous marriage and future spouse. Suddenly, a mysterious man named Jooin appears, sweeping Ye-gyum away to his home. There, he is fed, clothed, and showered with an overwhelming amount of affection. As Ye-gyum senses the telltale signs of his lovesickness resurfacing, an uncertainty lingers: will this man also leave him, or could he finally hold the cure to this lifelong affliction?

5. Momentum by Park ji-yeon (E)

“Momentum” is a series of beautifully drawn vignettes that glimpse into the life-altering moments of several couples as they fall in and out of love. This BL features a series of characters learning how to love, understand, and forgive one another – and in some cases, the world – at different moments in their lives.

6. Our Sunny Days by Jeong seokchan (M)

Sung Ho’s not the kind you’d typically expect to settle down in the countryside. He’s in his late 20s, ex-military, and…a single father with a year-old baby his ex-girlfriend pawned off on him. Jobless and without any prospects but a house, Sung Ho hopes the peaceful Nuldongmae village will make a good new home for him and his daughter. Rumor has it that the head of the village, despite his young age, is a real jerk… But he won’t have to deal with that, will he?

7. Run Wild by Wuzhe / Zuoercongdong (M)

As soon as Jiang Cheng finds out he’s adopted, he’s abandoned by his adoptive family and sent to live with his deadbeat father, who has a gambling addiction. Everything about his new life, from his pathetic father to the unfamiliar environment, makes Jiang Cheng depressed. But then he meets Gu Fei, who’s like a shining bright light in this run-down city, and the two become each other’s salvation and hope.

8. Stigma by Marloong (E)

In the dark alleys of this city, there's no hope for trash like Sehyun. Having sex with strangers in the cramped stall behind a bar is just a typical Thursday night. But after a chance encounter with the brash and violent Boris, Sehyun begins to dream of living a normal life and an end to his restless nights. Boris is unlike any other man he's encountered. After a life spent bound by thorns, can time truly heal all scars?

9. Under the Plum Blossom Tree by Bori/Baekha (M)

As the son of a prestigious political figure in Joseon, Hajin has only ever been interested in studying to become like his father. That is, until he meets Namwoo, a young man who takes on various odd jobs as he struggles to pass his school exams. As they overcome hardships together and learn more about each other's history, they soon realize that their lives are intertwined in more ways than they thought.

10. You Get Me Going by Moscareto (E)

Despite being thirty-three, Young-won sure is gullible. He falls in love way too easily, comes on way too hard, and still believes that he’ll meet “Mr. Right” sooner or later. Not that he knows who “Mr. Right” is, but he sure does know about “Mr. Wrong,” a.k.a. Kang Hyun-woo. Young-won swears that he’ll never, ever get together with this polar opposite of his, but the universe sure seems to think different. One drunken night, they end up in the same bed and Hyun-woo proposes an intriguing deal…

[lavenderdreams22]

A Court of Dawn & Dusk - Azriel x Reader (Part 9)

Summary: Rhys and Y/N receive an unexpected invitation. Azriel tries and fails to come to terms with a decision that Y/N makes.

A/N: I hope you guys like it. As always, comments and feedback are always welcome!

Warnings: cursing and a bit of angst, but I think that's pretty much it. Quickly edited.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

*****

She hadn’t looked up from her book yet. Azriel wasn’t even sure that she had seen or heard them come in, but that was perfectly okay with him. She poked her tongue out as she scribbled something down on a piece of loose parchment and he felt his heartbeat pick up just at the sight of such a simple thing. She had turned him into a lovesick fool, and he couldn’t have been happier about it if he tried. 

Amren sat across from her at the table, her own book flipped open and her own piece of parchment sitting out. Her hand was poised over it as if she were about to jot down a note, but her knuckles were white as she gripped the pen so tightly. Azriel was sure that if he listened hard enough, he would hear the way the metal and plastic groaned under the pressure. 

Why are we standing in the shadows? Rhys asked, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes alight with amusement. 

Just wanted to look at her for a moment longer. Azriel replied, not bothering to hide his emotions from his best friend, his brother. 

Rhysand turned to him, searching his eyes for a moment before offering him a small smirk. 

You can stand here and watch her for as long as you want. Rhys’ voice was gentle.

Before either of them had a chance to step out from the shadows, Amren let out an annoyed sigh and looked into their dark corner with narrowed eyes. 

“We know you’re there.” She snapped. “Come out before I drag your asses out of the shadows myself.”

Azriel shuddered as Rhys let out a nervous chuckle. Amren, though tiny, was terrifying. They stepped out together, making their way slowly to the table the two females occupied. 

“About time.” She grumbled. “I was beginning to think that you would continue to creep around for the rest of the afternoon.”

Y/N snorted as she watched Azriel over her shoulder, her eyebrows raised in a silent question. She had pulled her bottom lip between her teeth to hold in her laughter. He pulled her into a kiss as soon as he was close enough to touch her, relishing in the way she always seemed to taste of strawberries. 

“You’re addicting.” He murmured against her lips. 

She giggled against him, and he filed the sound way in his mind as he had done with every other laugh or smile that he had earned from her. Because it wasn’t just her kisses that were an addiction. It was also the way that warmth spread through his chest every time she touched him, making him tingle from the very top of his head down to his toes, or even the way that she made him feel safe. Made him feel as if he had finally come home. 

That’s what she was to him. She was Azriel’s home. And he had never truly had one of those before, at least not in this sense. The House of Wind, or even the townhouse, had come close. But now he knew, without a doubt, that he had somewhere he belonged, even if every building in Prynthian burned to the ground. As long as she was with him, he was home. 

Everything about her was his and everything about him was hers and neither of them blinked at any of the terrible things the other had done. There was no judgment, only love and unbridled acceptance and so much warmth that he worried that it would burn. It was as if he had been dunked head first into a vat of sunlight after years of being frozen solid in the thickest, most impenetrable ice. Even his shadows seemed to calm their frantic whispering in her presence. 

Amren cleared her throat, and his surroundings rushed back into his peripheral. He hadn’t realized that he had still been kissing her. From the looks of her swollen lips, it had been more than what he had intended. He always seemed to lose track of time and space whenever she was around. 

Azriel shook himself from his thoughts and finally pulled away from his mate, the love of his life, the future mother of his children. The loss of her warmth made him want to light himself on fire to feel it again, so he pulled a chair close to her side and plopped into it, laying a hand on her thigh so that he did not have to go another moment without touching her.

Rhys rounded the table to sit next to Amren. 

“What have we found?” He asked, his violet eyes scanning both of the females faces. 

Y/N pushed her piece of parchment towards him. Rhys plucked it from the table to look it over, his face carefully neutral. 

“Nothing much. Nothing that we didn’t already know, anyway.” She shook her head and worried her lip between her teeth, the gesture so different from the way she had bit her lip only a few moments before. 

The worry in her eyes had Azriel on high alert. Sitting straighter in her chair, he squeezed her leg in an attempt to calm her. When she offered him a small smile and placed her hand over his, he relaxed, but only by a fraction. 

“Amren?” Rhys asked, turning in his chair to give her his full attention.

Azriel tried to listen, he really did… But the feeling of his mate’s hand on top of his made his head fuzzy, full of thoughts of her. 

It never mattered how much time he spent by her side, every smile and laugh and touch felt new. He looked at her, his eyes full of love. 

I wish I had found you sooner. 

She grinned at him, bringing his hand to her lips for a quick kiss as if to return the sentiment. 

Before he could tune back into the conversation, a disheveled Cassian appeared beside the table.

“Rhys, Y/N… You two got an invitation.” Cassian started, refusing to meet Azriel’s eyes. “Delivered to Hewn City by a Hybern soldier.”

Azriel straightened his spine again, all of the ease bleeding from his body. The lovesick look slipped from his face and was replaced with the cold mask of the Shadowsinger. 

“Us?” She turned wide eyes to the High Lord. “Why would we be the only two invited?”

Cassian shrugged before passing the envelope to Rhys.

“You’re not going.” Azriel growled, not bothering to wait and see what the invitation was for. 

Y/N opened her mouth to protest, but Rhys cut her off with a raised hand as he opened the letter with the other. 

“I agree with Azriel.” Rhys stated, keeping the unreadable mask in place as he scanned over the invitation. “If something goes wrong, which it most likely will based on their track record, I do not want you in the crossfire.”

Again. The word went unspoken, but Azriel knew that it was implied as Rhysand’s eyes flicked up and met his. 

“Will you at least tell me what the invitation is for?” Y/N asked. 

Rhys cleared his throat. “I hereby invite Y/N of the Dawn Court and Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court to the first annual Masquerade. Hosted Under the Mountain.”

“Amarantha?” Cassian asked, though everyone already knew the answer.

“Yeah, she’s signed her name at the bottom.” Leaning back in his chair, Rhys eyed Y/N. “You’re not going.”

Azriel grumbled his agreement, his grip on her thigh tightening. 

“You can’t do this on your own.” Y/N said, her own voice hard and unmoving. “And you can’t really stop me. I was invited, too, after all.”

Azriel felt his mouth go dry. He knew that tone, the way her shoulders and jaw were set. It was the same way she had spoken to him the day he had been too injured and she had almost died.

“I’m coming with you, then.” Azriel ground out, his teeth clenched so hard he was surprised he hadn’t cracked a tooth. “If you’re so determined to put yourself in harm's way.”

“You weren’t invited.” She snapped, shooting him a glare. 

He laughed, the sound low and dangerous. He felt the shiver that ran up her spine as he dipped his head closer to her ear, his breath fanning over her. Normally the reaction would have caused a different feeling to erupt in his chest, but right now all he felt was anger and dread. 

“I don’t care.”

Her breath hitched in her throat.

‘’Let’s come up with a plan instead of arguing the matter like a bunch of children.” Amren stated with a roll of her eyes. 

*****

I flopped on the bed, bouncing Azriel a bit as I let out a sigh. He tossed his boots across the room, anger radiating off of him in dangerous waves.

“Can you just look at me for a moment?” I asked, placing a hand on his back.

His muscles tensed under my touch.

“I have a bad feeling about this.” Azriel grumbled, taking a deep breath. 

“I know you do, but I’ll be fine.” My words didn’t sound as reassuring as I hoped they would.

“And how do you know that?” He asked, meeting my eyes over his shoulder. “How do you know they won’t try to gut you again?”

“Because Rhysand will be there. He would kill them all before they could raise their swords.” my hand trailed up his back to his shoulder. 

He turned away from me, staring at some unknown thing in the distance that only he could see. His shadows grew, blocking out bits of my view of him, their whispers getting louder as if the thought of me being out of their sight was painful for them, as well. 

“I can’t protect you if I'm not there.” He said, his voice breaking on the last word. 

I tucked my feet underneath me so that I sat on my knees and pressed myself against him. His wings relaxed under the weight of my body.

I didn’t have the words to tell him that everything would be okay. Deep down, I knew he was right. Something was… off about this invitation. Amarantha had proved to us all that she had less than pure intentions since she had stepped foot in Prynthian. 

The longer the silence stretched on, the more I could practically hear the wheels turning in his mind. 

“Talk to me, Azriel.” I whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of his wing. 

“I can’t let you just waltz back there.” He turned again, looking at me over his shoulder. 

“Short of locking me in the house, I’m afraid you can’t stop me from going.” I kissed his wing again. “I don’t want Rhys to go by himself. Someone needs to look out for him.”

“He can handle himself.” He growled. “You’re not going.” 

Even though he sounded angry, I could hear the desperation and breathless agony that laced each word. 

“The last time you were anywhere close to a Hybern soldier, you almost died.” He turned fully, taking my face in his hands. “I can’t lose you.”

“I was chosen by the mother, the cauldron, or whatever other powers in the universe to be your mate because I am your equal in one way or another. I can handle myself.”

He just stared at me, his eyes growing sadder as he looked me over. It was almost as if he were committing this moment to memory. 

“We will go, get the information that we need, figure out what the hell she wants, and then we will leave. And I will come back to you in one piece. I swear it.” I placed a hand over his heart, resting my head on his shoulder as he pulled me into a bone crushing hug. 

I wasn’t sure how long we had sat there, tangled in each other's arms.

“It will be fine.” I kissed his shoulder and then his neck, pushing the rising sense of dread that had started to wrap itself around my own heart to the recesses of my mind. 

I, too, had a terrible feeling about this.

*****

Three days later, Azriel and I stood in a small dress shop on the Rainbow, sorting through racks and racks of different colors and materials. 

He had barely smiled since I had told him that I was going to go and he didn’t have a choice.

“What about this one?” I asked, pulling a black silk slip dress from the rack and holding it up to myself. 

He looked it over, his eyes darkening as he pulled his lip between his teeth. 

I chuckled and cocked my head to the side. “Words, please.”

He gulped, the fire in his eyes remaining. “You’d look beautiful in this… Dangerously beautiful.”

He shook his head to try and snap himself out of his lust, but I didn’t miss the change in his scent. Just as I was sure he didn’t miss the change in mine.

“I wonder if there’s a mask that would go with this…” I mumbled to myself as I ran a finger over the material.

As if I had summoned her, the shopkeeper appeared at my side, scaring the living hell out of me. Where had she come from? I whipped my head around, looking for any hiding place in the vicinity.

When my gaze landed on Azriel, he was holding back a laugh with a hand over his mouth. I resisted the urge to reach over and smack him. He had probably known she was close by.

“Mask, you say?” She hobbled back to the counter, seeming not to notice that she had almost given me a heart attack, and beckoned me with one wrinkled hand.  “We have several back here.”

Ariel followed behind me silently, a hand on my lower back. He tried to always keep some sort of contact with me. It always brought me comfort, but for the last few days, I was sure the contact was more for him than it was for me.

I took a quick glance over my shoulder, and I could still see the humor dancing in his eyes. I shot him a smile, and his face changed to one of soft adoration.

When we approached the counter, she lifted two black masks, holding them up to her face in turn so I could get a good look at them. I snuck another look at Azriel over my shoulder.

His shoulders were tight as he stared at her. I had no doubt that he had just remembered what we were shopping for in the first place. When he met my gaze again, the look from before had vanished and he forced a another small smile that looked more like a grimace.

I gestured to the woman, asking him without asking to choose one of the options she had in her hands. 

“The one on the left.” He said, his voice tight. 

I turned back to look at his choice. It was a simple black silk with an overlay of lace. The swirls reminded me of his ever present shadows. 

“I’ll take that one.” I nodded, lifting the dress to the counter. “And this, please.”

I moved to take out my coin purse, but Azriel stopped me with a hand and a shake of his head.

“Add it to my tab, Irene.” 

“You have a tab in a dress store?” I asked with my hands on my hips, my tone laced with unnecessary irritation.

The lady behind the counter shook her head, tsking at Azriel as she took the dress from me and put it gently into a garment bag. 

Azriel only chuckled, leaning down and pressing a kiss to my temple. 

We were halfway home before he started laughing again, drawing the attention of people that were milling about nearby. The sound was magic to my ears.

Gods, how I had missed his laugh the last couple of days. 

“I’ve bought you three or four dresses from that same shop, you know.” 

“You have?” I stopped, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Yes.” He eyed me for a moment before clearing his throat. “Do you remember that cobalt blue dress that Mor had you wear to the ball?”

“Of course, it was beautiful.” I said, before adding under my breath, “if not a little revealing.” 

“Well,” a grin broke out over his beautiful face. “I bought that one. Wanted to say sorry for being such a prick… Also, a pretty big part of me wanted us to match. Thought it might repel any potential competition while I tried to get my shit together.”

I leaned into him, grabbing his free arm and nearly swooning at the hard muscle underneath.

“You’re such a softy.” I grinned.

He shook his head, still grinning. “Only for you.”

*****

Tomorrow… Tomorrow was the day that she went into the one place he never wanted her to set foot in again. Tomorrow was the day that he would figure out if this awful feeling in the pit of his stomach was either proven right or that he had been worrying for no reason. 

He trusted his intuition. He had to, especially since he had become the High Lord’s Spymaster. He was rarely ever wrong about these things. 

The inner circle sat around the table for dinner as they always did, and Azriel tried his best to shake the feeling of dread that had been following him around like dense fog… One that only seemed to get thicker with every passing moment. His shadows were louder than usual, and he was almost surprised that no one else could hear their constant worrying. 

Well, no one other than his mate. Who could somehow hear them on a typical day. She hadn’t asked, but there had been moments that she flinched when they got particularly loud as they reached out for her. 

Cassian waved a hand in front of his face in an attempt to snap him back to reality. He hadn’t noticed that he had been spacing out, but when he shook his head and glanced around, he saw that every pair of eyes was turned towards him, full of worry.

“You alright?” Rhys asked, his spoon full of soup paused halfway to his mouth. 

“Fine, just tired.” Azriel picked up his own spoon, staring down at a plate of lettuce and various other vegetables.

When had the plates been cleared? A quick glance around showed that everyone but him had soup in front of them.

“He hasn’t been sleeping well.” Y/N said from beside him as she handed him a fork.

“I’m fine.” Azriel said again with a little more conviction. 

“Maybe we should turn in early tonight?” She asked, leaning forward to catch his eye.

Azriel felt bad for not confiding in her, for not telling her that the idea of her leaving made him feel like his heart was being ripped from his chest, even if it was for just a single night. 

How would he even broach the subject without sounding like he was trying to control her and the situation? Or without making her feel like he didn’t believe in her?

“Good idea.” He pushed back from his spot at the table too quickly, the scrape of the chair making her flinch.

He wanted to slap himself for putting the look of worry on her beautiful face.

He was moving before she had the opportunity to stand, but she followed, bidding everyone goodnight. 

When they reached their room, he spun on her and pulled her to his chest in a tight embrace.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you,” she breathed. “But please talk to me. You’ve been distant since we got that stupid invitation.”

His heart ached for her. She had gone days thinking he was mad or upset with her. So, instead of talking, he pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. 

“I’m just scared.” He whispered. 

“Scared of what?” She pulled away to meet his eyes.

“I can’t shake the feeling that I’m going to lose you.”

“I’m not going anywhere, my love.” She pressed a kiss to his chest. He felt the heat from her touch through his leathers. “We’ll go and be back before you even have a chance to miss me.”

“Impossible.” He pulled her closer to him. “I miss you always.” 

“Azriel….” She tried to pull out of his grasp, but as his eyes filled with tears, he held her tighter to keep her from seeing them.

He knew she had to be sick of hearing about how scared and worried he was. Hell, he was tired of feeling that way… But until he had her safely back in his arms, he wouldn’t know peace.

“Y/N, listen to me.” His voice cracked and she stilled against him at the sound of it. “The first sign of danger, you winnow as far away as you can and then you make your way back to me.” 

“I will.” She squeezed him tighter. “I swear it.” 

*****

The next night came far too quickly, and he wished that he had spent more time with her and less time brooding. His hands slipped over the silk that covered her beautiful body as he kissed her lips.

“I’ll see you in a few hours.” She said between kisses. “I love you.” 

“I love you, Y/N.” He said, his heart warring with his head. “I’ll see you later.” 

And with that promise hanging between them, she stepped back to Rhysand’s side and took his hand. Azriel’s arms were still outstretched when they disappeared into the night. 

*****

Cassian shook him awake. He wasn’t sure what time it was, or when he had fallen asleep, but the look on his face had Azriel sitting straight up in his bed.

“What happened?” He asked.

Cassian just shook his head, his brows pulling together. Azriel felt his heart pull, the bond growing tight and then dimming.

“Cassian… what-”

Before he could finish the sentence, Mor threw the door open. She was in her pajamas, her long blonde hair tied into a knot on the top of her head. Her eyes were wild as she met Azriel’s stare.

“She trapped them.” Her voice was thick with tears, and he felt his own well in his eyes.

“What?”

“She trapped them. Rhys sent word, we’re to protect the people and Velaris until they can find a way out.” Cassian said, his voice surprisingly clear.

“I… I have to get her out.” Azriel started to move, but Cassian clapped a hand on his shoulder to keep him in place.

“Magic has been dwindled down to nothing.” Cassian shook his head. “We need to reserve our power.”

Azriel was shaking with unreleased sobs. He knew this had been a bad idea. He knew he never should have let her go. But he had listened to her, not to reason, when she had told him she would be fine. And now she was trapped… in enemy territory. And there was nothing he could do about it.

He hung his head, letting a sob break free. Cassian sat on the bed next to him, his own tears sliding down his face as he slung an arm around his shoulders.

She wouldn’t want them to fall apart. Rhys had given them orders. Rhys had given them something to do. And he desperately needed something to do, or he would fly there, magic be damned, and tear the entire mountain to the ground.

But she wouldn’t have wanted him to fall apart and because of that, he wouldn’t allow himself to. So he steeled his nerves, pushed back the sadness that was pounding in his head, and cleared his throat.

“Someone get Amren.” Azriel muttered. “We need to have a meeting.”

*****

Taglist: @brekkershadowsinger @mis-lil-red @judig92

[beabnormal24]

Hi! For the shipping asks: 👅 💖 💔 (if you want to!)

Oooh, good one. i love answering asks.

1. 👅 (ship that you find most sexy)

I mean, Charlos, of course. I guess I don’t even need to explain myself on this one, but I guess I’ll do it anyway. I will say that in my personal opinion Carlos is the sexiest, in the sense that he has that sinuosity in his movements and that elegance and finesse in his gestures that just makes him incredibily sexy.

If you want to look at it in a figurative way, I see Carlos like Matthew Macfadyen in Pride and Prejudice, so hot in his austerity.

And Charles? Prettiest boy ever, so delicate but also clumsy and silly and sexy in that completely self conscious and self confident and effortless way that attractive people who are constantly giggling their asses off are. He’s the epitome of babygirlism and sassiness, but you should not doubt him - which is exactly what Carlos never does.

Figurative example? Jonathan Bailey as Tim Laughlin in Fellow Travelers during the ‘50-‘60s episodes.

Together? Sexiest ship alive.

2. 💖 (Ship that needs more love)

Since I am deeply undecided, I’ll offer two options.

First one, George Russell and Max Verstappen, also known as Gax. Why, do you say?

Their dynamics would be incredible, apart from the entire obvious enemies to lovers mechanism, let’s spend some time talking about their characterisation - because you all know how much I like that.

George, your next door British boy, curses in lower case and says Blimey and Crikey like it’s normal. He cares about his looks and his appearance. He’s thirsty for competition, neat, honest, proper, terribly impatient although he tries his very best to not let it show.

Now, Max? Curses in bold, replaces Hello and Hi with Shit and Fuck. Doesn’t care about his appearance as much as he cares about his own cats. He’s thirsty for competition, neat, honest, proper, terribly impatient and he lets it show.

Conclusion: they’re basically the same person, just in different fonts, similar in their dissimilarities.

One is Calibra Light, the other is Calibra Bold, and they’ll clash their horns against each other like angry deers, but then they’ll notice how good they actually look together, how good they work together, how good they match and boom…

No chances for anyone else, two puzzle pieces completing each other.

Uh, I might write something about that.

Anyway, second one? Alexander Albon and Logan Sargeant. And tell me if I even need to explain myself on this one.

They are the ship, they have everything!

Logan blushing furiously and falling for Alex’s teasing and looking at him longingly and smiling like a lovesick fool whenever Alex gives him attention or jokes about his obsession with America. He’s so enamoured with Alex that he even started copying some of his attitudes, because he’s that in love.

But let’s be clear, Alex is falling just as hard, because Logan is so cute and he likes the way there’s someone who actually looks up at him - not only figuratively, lol, because Nicholas is tall - and he blushes in such a cute shade of red when he calls him Logie Bear.

Alex might be a little bit obsessed with him.

I need to write about them.

3. 💔 (ship that makes you sad)

I honestly don’t know how to answer this one, I guess it is based on personal interpretation.

I would probably say that the one that makes me a little bit sad is Dando.

Ironic, you may say, but let’s think about it for a second.

They started to bloom a little late, because Lando was still attached to Carlos and Daniel isn’t as careful around boundaries as he should be in certain situations, and although Lando has clearly grown into an overconfident young man that we love to see thriving, he does initially still need some limits - like Carlos and Oscar had religiously respected.

But then they had bloomed, they started getting along like a house on fire. People do not realise how hard it actually is to become so close in such contexts without having any strings from before - like Alex and George or Charles and Pierre or Oscar and Logan and so on.

Lando went to his house in Perth, voluntarily, just to spend time with him and do crazy stuff on his farm and have the time of his life with someone that is ten years older than him.

But they get along so well that who does even care about age differences?

But just as they started to really develop through their relationship, shit happened and they got separated.

I’m really glad they still bloomed - sharing clothes like in Monaco and sharing jet rides and visiting each other and going to dinners together and stuff - but it does make me a little sad the thought that, in some twisted way, things still tried to put themselves through their building affection.

It also makes me sad the fact that, because of all of that, they didn’t get to shine as bright as they deserved.

That’s it, hope you liked my answers and please Ant let me know about yours, too! 🩷🩷

[twig-tea]

A question for you because you seem like one of those people who has watched everything: how did you get started watching bl, and what are your ultimate favorite shows?

Double-barrelled! I'm honoured.

How did I get into BL?

The short answer is that ~2016 the YouTube algorithm served me up Lovesick and I immediately went EXCUSE ME WHAT IS THIS and looked up everything else available and watched literally everything I could get my hands on (which at the time was easy because there was only a handful compared to today, but it still felt like a wealth of content to enjoy).

The longer answer is that I used to be really involved in GL (I was the secretary at the first Yuricon in North America in 2002 or 2003) and then BL manga fandom (was in a scanlation group for awhile) through ~2006? so its extra hilarious that this wasn't my route in; I apparently took a break right before they started making live action versions in Japan. But when I got into Thai BL it was fun rediscovering these tropes in a new medium and through the lens of a new-to-me culture, noticing how they differed and how the genre had matured (and how it hadn't), and on catching up on the stuff out of Japan, seeing some of the manga I read over a decade ago come to life! So I mention this history because it's definitely a part of why I stayed (and probably why the algorithm found me relatively quickly).

I only started tracking things in a spreadsheet in 2020 (and it's not nearly as comprehensive or useful as @absolutebl 's), but I did try to backfill the highlights of what I've seen and I have over 550 rows on there, fwiw. I'm a completionist so I do try to watch everything, though that's getting more and more impossible these days.

Ultimate Favourite Shows

This question is so hard. I know you didn't even give me a limit but you have to understand @lurkingshan, I can't choose favourites, I have a draft top ten list that has been blank for 3 years because I can't commit. Okok. I'm just going to list shows as they come to me (not in any particular order):

Thailand: Until We Meet Again, He's Coming to Me, Diary of Tootsies, WhyRU, Ingredients, Not Me, Secret Crush on You, I Told Sunset About You & I Promised You the Moon, Triage, You're My Sky, Make it Right, La Pluie, My Ride, Bad Buddy, My School President, Laws of Attraction, Moonlight Chicken, Dear Dr I'm Coming for Soul, To Sir With Love/Khun Chai, The Eclipse, Midnight Museum, Lovely Writer... Grey Rainbow [ducks, hides, runs away]

Japan: Doushitemo Furetakunai (no touching at all), Kinou Nani Tabeta (What did you eat yesterday?), Our Dining Table, Takara-Kun and Amagi-Kun, Old Fashioned Cupcake, 7 Days (mon-thurs & fri-sun), His (miniseries & movie), I Want to See Only You, Kieta Hatsukoi/My love mix-up, the Cherry Magic Movie, Life~Senjou no bokura/Love on the Line, 180 Degrees Longitude Passes Through Us, Given (anime is my fave version), Tokyo in April Is..., Cornered Mouse Dreams of Cheese, Utsukushii Kare/My beautiful man

Korea: Our Dating Sim, Semantic Error, The Lover [BL side], Color Rush, Blueming, Cherry Blossoms After Winter, Love Class 2, Made on the Rooftop, Discipline Z, Light on Me, To My Star (yes both seasons), Strongberry (faves are Long Time No See, Confidential Coffee Break, and A First Love Story), Sing My Crush, Just Friends?

Vietnam: Goodbye Mother, Hey! First Love, Nation's Brother, You Are Ma Boy, Follow My Sunshine, FOOLs, Tien Bromance: My Small Family, Love Bill

Philippines: Gameboys, Gaya sa Pelikula, Boys Lockdown, Cheat [warning: horror], Your Home, Better Days

Taiwan: Be Loved in House, My DNA Says Love You, We Best Love (1 & 2), HIStory (Crossing the Line is my fave, and second fave is...Make Our Days Count [ducks, hides, burrows into ground]).

Other: Summerdaze (short from Singapore), Stay Still (Hong Kong), HeHe and He (Hong Kong, final season in progress but s1&2 are so funny) and the bromances/difficult to categorize: Scumbag System, Word of Honor, The Untamed, Guardian, Coffee Prince, Bromance (Taiwanese), Great Men Academy, Mr Queen, Sleuth of Ming Dynasty, SCI Mystery

*deep breath* ok I'm stopping lol narrowing it down any less than this gives me pain so I won't try. Also I'm sure I forgot something obvious (and Tumblr was eating drafts of this at various points). All I can say about this list is it's under 100 and that's the best I could do.

Thanks for the ask, and to anyone who made it this far thanks for reading!

[lola-lightwood]

Time for me to post some Aaron Oliver quotes to pass the time till Book 3

SPOILERS for Never a Hero by Vanessa Len below

"I guess you'd changed your mind, because you told me that if I managed to undo the massacre, I could never meet you. I could never trust you. You said..." I won't remember what you mean to me. Joan heard her own voice crack. "You--you said you'd hate me in this new timeline."

Aaron's expression was hard. “Well your fictional me was right about that.”

STOP HE’S SO SASSY. Let's have a moment of silence for Joan’s heart:

"You gave me a brooch just before I left. You found it in a cupboard at the safe house. A brown bird in a cage."

"What?" Aaron sounded truly shocked now...He was staring at her as if he were seeing her for the first time.

Aaron after Joan mentioned his mother's brooch:

"Why do the Nightingales think that you informed on her?" Joan whispered. "I know you didn't."

"Why do you keep saying that?" Aaron said. He sounded wary, but there was a new vulnerable note in his voice as well.

"You just wouldn't. You wouldn't do that. If anyone had informed on her, it would have been--" She cut herself off as the truth finally clicked. "Your father," she said slowly. In response Aaron made a soft sound.

I WANT AN AUDIO RECORDING OF THAT SOFT SOUND. I love that Joan just knows him. And that's huge for a boy that was never seen. Who is constantly discarded and insulted by those who are supposed to love him. Joan to Aaron:

"Your name is Joan, right?

Joan:

It cut with the same knife jab as when Nick had asked for her name.

Aaron's eyes flickered over her face; he'd caught the emotion. His voice gentled. "It's Joan?"

Joan nodded. "Okay, Joan," he said.

"Okay what?" "Okay, I believe you."

Joan's throat felt thick with tears suddenly. She hadn't expected him to say that. Not so quickly.

"You believe we knew each other?" she said.

"I believe everything you said."

me after this scene:

"I missed you," Joan managed. "In this timeline." It came out with so much emotion that Aaron looked surprised.

"Sorry," Joan said. "I know you don't remember me. We just...We went through a lot of things together that no one else did. And I missed you. A lot."

Joan confessing:

Aaron was silent long enough that Joan could feel herself reddening.

It was too much to tell him--that she missed him when he'd barely met her.

"You're right. I don't know you," he said finally. Joan tried not to feel the blunt ache of it. He didn't remember her, and that was just the truth. "I do know, though," Aaron said, his gray eyes serious, "that if I gave you that brooch, I must have--" He hesitated.

"I must have trusted you very much."

What were you gonna say Aaron? what were you going to say?

Let's speculate - I think he was going to say 'cared' so "I must have cared for you very much."

If we're going crazy and if you're a lovesick fool like me then "I must have loved you very much." But that's not realistic, Lauryn.

a girl can only dream.

and that's all for part 1 💜 thanks for reading my current obsession!

[thegeminisage]

also, i got to the part in jane eyre with the wedding and i am more gobsmacked than ever. NOT ONLY did this book suddenly increase a level in racism but rochester confessed to 1. making jane think he was gonna marry that other lady so she'd be jealous 2. secret attic wife and jane is like. reader i forgave him immediately. GIRL HIS WIFE WAS IN YOUR ROOM TEARING YOUR SHIT UP. wake up!!! get out of there!!!!! i mean she literally did decide to leave and good for her i was HOLLERING but oh my god every single thing he did in the month up to the wedding was a red flag.

i also just realized that had she not been lovesick fooling around with him in that time she might have gotten to meet her uncle before he kicked it??? like. i don't think a single good thing has happened to jane in this entire book that wasn't made worse later:

orphaned, child abuse

got sent away to school, but school sucked bad because of bullies and starvation and sickness etc

made a friend, but her friend died

got a job that wasn't at school, but there's a crazy lady in the house and there's also rochester, who might be worse

mrs reed finally died, but she kept the secret of the uncle from jane

proposed to by a rich guy, but he's already married

was able to contact her uncle, sort of, but he's gonna be dead before she can ever meet him

LIKE CAN WE HAVE ONE GOOD THING. can one single good thing happen to jane. if her happy ending is marrying that wackjob im gonna throw my phone against the wall

[dearsnow]

hey love :) i just read Jaces Girl and am begging for a part 2 if you have any ideas !!

ENOUGH FOR YOU

- aegon finally spills his guts to the person he has loved for years, and you don’t know how to handle it. (aegon targaryen x gn!reader x technically jace but he’s not in this part, angst)

Part 1

a/n - should i make more parts 😳 i never expected this to get much attention at all but now i’m considering writing multiple endings

The sound of happy children couldn’t be more grating on Aegon’s ears. It’s joyous and light and reminds him of better times, before he grew up and before he knew the reality of the world. Before he turned to drinking and fucking to get his mind off of the person he’d loved since before he discovered that love is something he wants. God, how he wishes he figured himself out earlier.

You’re crouched by the dappled light of a tree, wiping a crumb off of the corner of Jace’s little brother’s mouth. Of course it’s Jace’s little brother. He stares down at you, conflict creating a pit in his stomach.

Fuck it, he thinks. He’s already dug himself this far, might as well get on with it. You’re moving away soon. Your transfer request to another college had been accepted, so what’s the harm in upsetting someone you’ll only see once a year at family Christmas and maybe the occasional summer barbecue?

You’re Jace’s, though. You always have been. You looked at him with starry eyes while Aegon stared at you like a lovesick puppy. He’s tried to get your attention, doing everything he possibly could to make you love him. For a while, he thought it worked. You hung out with him more and even gave him a kiss on the cheek, causing his face to turn fire-engine red. Then, of course, Jace had to ruin everything by asking you on a date. After that, he rarely saw you.

He steps forward, and you take notice of him for the first time that day.

“Aegon! I feel like we haven’t talked in forever, what’s up?” Your voice rings, and he takes it in like a man starved.

“I was hoping we could talk. Privately.” He jams his thumb over his shoulder, referring to a little section of his garden you often played in as children.

You feel wheels turning in your mind, but you can’t exactly pinpoint why your stomach flips. It’s just Aegon. Your boyfriend’s unfortunate uncle, though he’s more like a relatively close cousin. He leads you to your secret spot, and you’re instantly transported into your childhood.

You know every nook and cranny of a house that isn’t yours. You’re rooting for bugs with Helaena, fake sword-fighting with Aemond, and playing duck-duck-goose with Aegon- though it’s really just an excuse for him to chase you around. Jace is there, sometimes, and so is Luke. It feels so warm and nostalgic that you almost lose yourself in it until Aegon clears his throat.

He can barely breathe. The beer he drank earlier is pounding in his head, and looking at your dreamy disposition, you’re not totally there either. He wipes the palms of his hands on his shirt and takes a breath.

“I love you. I’ve loved you for so long. God, not in a platonic way either- I’m in love with you. And if you’ll have me, I want to be yours.”

Your eyes widen. Fireworks are going off in your mind and alarm bells are blaring and you can just barely stutter out a sentence. “Aegon, I’m with Jace. You know that.” You sympathize.

It hurts to see how shattered he looks, like nothing you can ever do will put his hope back together again.

You suspected he was into you for a while, but you never knew it was anything more than a fool’s crush. You certainly never believed he was actually in love with you.

“But I can treat you right, I swear I can. I’ll- I’ll stop drinking, I won’t sleep around, I promise I won’t, I can be better than him. I’ll do anything, just please,” he grabs your hand, “please just let me be yours for once in your life.”

Tears are budding in his eyes now, but he doesn’t care. He only cares about the ones now falling down your cheeks.

“I can’t. We can’t. This- us- we won’t work out.” The lump in your throat is threatening your comprehensibility. You feel so bad for him, for Jace, even for yourself. You don’t know what to do.

“At least consider it.” He begs. “I can be enough for you.”

“Just give me a moment. A lot of moments. Maybe a day or two.” You wipe your salty cheeks, resolving to figure it out. “I need time to process this. And I need to tell Jace. So please, just give me time.”

He nods, fists clenched. He can’t stand the fact that you’re not dropping everything to be with him, though he never expected you to in the first place. He’s a broken, broken man.

But he still nods, and you nod, and in that silent garden, he hopes for the future.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

Taglist: @m00nkn1ghts @mmmimilan @its-halleys-comet @savagemickey03 @panelhone @persephonesportal (read part one if you’re confused ^^)

[therhythmafterthesummer]

cuddling wereroomies!minho to sleep is the bestest softest thing and i want it now.

(also any headcanons for minho talking about his kitten to his pack?)

he's probably an excellent cuddler. not too clingy, knows when to pull away, and which pressure to use when hugging... he probably likes to be cuddled, too, but he's gotta be in a specific mood for it sdkjfhsdjkf

also i do have some Thoughts when it comes to Minho and his kitten and the pack. i'll leave them under the cut ! this is long af

so, we know Minho came into Chris' pack through Jisung, and that Chris' pack started with only him, Jisung, and Changbin.

when Minho was going to leave his hometown to pursue his higher education, he had decided to go wherever Jisung was, and that's when he learnt of Chris and his pack.

the first time Minho met Chris and Changbin he was feeling a bit weird, because he hadn't been with other alpha werewolves before, so his instincts were a bit confused.

as usual, though, Chris managed to make him feel at ease anyway.

so probably the conversation went something like:

Chris: so, Jisung says you're a good guy... and you'd never had a pack before... if you're moving here, would you like to join?

Minho thought about it for a moment, and the FIRST thing he asked was: what's your stance on having humans here, too?

Chris was probably super confused, but answered a: if they're nice, i guess it's fine?

Minho: you see, not sure if Jisung told you, but there's my best friend, right? she's human and i don't want to lose contact... if you're fine with her coming here every once in a while then i have no problem joining your pack.

you see, for Minho him and his kitten are a bundle. had Chris said no he wouldn't have joined the pack at all. so, of course Chris agreed to meet her, and of course he thought she was nice, and OF COURSE HE HEARD HOW FAST MINHO'S HEART BEAT WHEN SHE DID ANYTHING, just like he heard how fast HER heart beat whenever HE did anything.

so Chris was probably immediately like 'i wonder how long this is going to take..........'

Chris can be nosy when he wants to, so he went to Jisung like "hey, what about these two?"

and Jisung would EXPLODE because he'd been DYING to talk about Minho and his kitten for YEARS. "OH MY GOD I'M SO DONE. I NEED THEM TO MAKE A MOVE, I CAN'T KEEP WATCHING THEM TOE AROUND EACH OTHER LIKE THIS ANY LONGER-----"

but of course he had to watch them dance around their mutual crush for years after that anyway sdjkfhskjdfhsjdkf

as more members joined the pack they just kind of accepted she was a common presence there, too. because she'd been there since way before.

i have this concept in my head that i haven't implemented yet in which jeongin and her get along especially well. i haven't decided why yet though sdkfhsdkjfhsdjkf

anyway, when it comes to Minho talking about his kitten to the pack it's always like:

Minho, to whomever is closest: look at this cute picture of sir percival my dear kitten has sent me.

or like

Minho, pissed: she's coming tomorrow and y'all are making a mess of my house, if y'all don't clean up your mess i'm getting the slipper. i'm not letting my best friend sleep in the messes YOU guys created.

when she graduated he was probably showing her graduation pictures around like the most lovesick fool.

after one too many pictures Seungmin was probably like: "yeah, yeah. that's nice. so when are you telling her you're in love with her?"

and Minho will deny all claims--very poorly, if i might add.

if they were having a movie night and she was there you bet your ass they were all trying to get her to sit as close to Minho as possible to get him to make a move. and they'd all let out a tired sigh when they watched them cuddle and hear their hearts racing and do NOTHING ABOUT IT MINHO JUST CONFESS ALREADY GODDAMN IT

ultimately, they all have a nice relationship with her, probably some more than others. i mean, her closest friends have always been Minho and Jisung, AKA Weirdo #1 and Weirdo #2, so it's only logical that she's Weirdo #3 sdfjhskdfhsdjkfh

[candied-cae]

All The Ways We've Been Before

Chapter 1/? - - - Read it on AO3

Next Chapters ->...

Word Count : 368

Summary: Steve and Eddie are soulmates. They have been for centuries. Flitting around each other in different lives, under different names, but always with the same faces, the same hearts. Whatever magic it is that makes a soul, theirs have been matched. Paired together. Destined for one another in every way two people can be. Their love has been written in the very fabric of the universe and promised for all time. They will always be the true love to the other, always meant to be. Always.

These are a few of their stories.

More ST Fics

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We Weren't Always "Steve" and "Eddie" - prologue

They were named Steve and Eddie in that time, but that's not who they've always been. 

It’s true.

Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson of Hawkins, Indiana were only small pieces of who they were.

Against the ever-long expanse of history, they have spent considerably more time as other people than they have as themselves.

Well, all those other people were themselves as well. Just different versions. Each with different names they were given in their different times as they lived in different places. They met in different ways as very different types of people. So much changed between each "them" that it was almost difficult to compare.

But there were constants. Because, every time, without fail, they found each other - both wearing the same faces they’d seen each time - and they fell in love.

Sometimes it went well and lasted decades. Sometimes it didn’t. They usually only figured out that it hadn’t been their first time coming together after a few months caught in each other's familiar current. If they remembered at all. Sometimes only one would realize, and the other thought them a lovesick fool making up tall tales. But each and every time, they loved each other. For however long they got.

Steve’s remembering them now. All the past “thems” they’ve been together. It comes back as these echoes of memories. Traces of lives they used to share.

Because the very matter of their souls were interwoven so deeply that he felt something that first time they really met as Steve and Eddie. When he found his other under a tarp in a drug dealer’s boat house. When Eddie all but threw him back and held him against the wall, the edges of a broken bottle against his throat. That first time they touched and connected their gaze… something happened.

Steve felt it.

Like a tingle in his fingertips.

This faint, barely there knowledge that the stranger before him was important. He couldn’t place it, of course. Couldn't name what that change was or what it meant. Not there at the very beginning. But as their fight against Vecna waged, it started to come back to him. The stories of their love affair that spanned centuries.

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

Very Important Author's Note- Aaahhhhhh, I'm starting a massive SoulMates Across Time AU thingy! This is just a little chapter to get us going, the rest will be way higher word counts.

This is all Jay on twitter's fault (aka @SunGods_Healing). They posted something about Steddie being reincarnated lovers that keep finding each other in each life and I threw myself down the rabbit hole.

That being said - this is going to be a long fic. I'm currently mapping out all the past lives and drafting in different roles and tropes. Sometimes Steve will be older than Eddie, sometimes Eddie will come from higher privilege than Steve, sometimes they will be women and sometimes they will be men. There are so many stories I plan to tell about these two falling in love in different beautiful ways across time, so strap in. We're going to follow them in order from the beginning, so (as long as I don't change my plans too much) next chapter we'll be meeting them for the first time in Ancient Greece.

Final rules just to make sure we all understand how this is going to go:

I am not going to be giving them any sort of drastic age differences, even in times when it would've been acceptable.

I am not going to be changing their races or appearances, so their love stories will float around Europe and North America in the time periods that make sense.

Each version of them will have the same first initial to keep things simple and easy to follow, even if genders and roles change.

And despite all the changes that come with different lives, their personalities will largely stay the same.

No other characters will be coming with them, Sorry. I love the other ST characters too, but this is Steddie's magic love across history, not the Party's magic love across history.

There will be fluffy bits and angsty bits throughout, with each chapter covering one life they've shared, and a final epilogue at the end.

Not sure how long this will be exactly, but I'm currently mapping out over two dozen lives, so there will be ample content.

[inb4belphienaps]

warnings: angst (i think?), mention of blood, introspection strikes again word count: 1264 A/N: with peace and love, this is written from lucifer’s perspective <3

When you sigh, I feel the ghost of your breath against my lips.

When you stop and reach upwards towards the sky in an attempt to stretch your stiff back, I feel the weight of the world rise and fall from your shoulders.

When you whisper to yourself in the quiet of the night and watch the darkness shift like the tide, I feel your hand in mine.

With the oath I took, you and I became connected. In that one instance, there was no longer a “you” or a “me”. There was only us.

There was only and is only the bond that we share, this immovable thread, never to be severed even by our own design. Though we may each have the power to do so, I have no intentions of cutting it.

I just hope to be able to say the same about you…

Longing. Yearning. Aching. Knowing. But do you know?

Do you know how quickly you infatuated me? How readily my affections grew to such proportions that seemed impossible? How easily the desire to have you look at only me spread throughout my entire being? Like wildfire, like an untamable spark, it had engulfed me before I could even recall what used to lie there in my chest, what had occupied that empty space before you.

Struck so suddenly I withdrew into myself. I watched you through walls that could neither contain your presence nor discourage mine. I heard you read to yourself, brows furrowed as shadows danced along your silhouette, and I would close my eyes so as to remember your voice. Your voice that can do so much with but an utter of my name. One look. One word. That’s all I need.

And yet, I am selfish. Incapable of letting you be.

My expression sours and the formication of anger does nothing to dampen my hunger. This craving for you is new. But it is also irony. In the past (though some still practice this custom), humans were used as sustenance to demons. Sacrificed and hunted down for sport for generations. Why then do I covet you instead?

What are you to me?

This question bounces around in my head. Sometimes with a speed that I cannot fathom. Other times, it lingers, almost hovering in the air, drifting along on the stream of consciousness I call my thoughts. In the silence of my mind and in the desolate hallways of this flesh, I picture you as clear as day.

How can you know, I ask myself. How can you possibly know?

Those human hands, soft to the touch yet strong enough to mend the broken. Those livid lips, full of emotion and yet unreadable on occasions wherein I wish I could understand. Those eager eyes, like glass, reflective and transparent but glazed over when met with disfavors.

Those eyes that seek me out draw me near. Wordlessly, I walk forward. Two steps become three, then four and suddenly I come face-to-face with your visage, and yet still, the urge to close the gap between us grows ever stronger. I’m not sure what this means exactly. I have a hunch.

The Ancient Greeks had the right idea.

…I think.

You know how it goes, don’t you?

A single body with four arms and legs. A single head with two faces. Complete and whole and happy in their absoluteness. It’s obvious, isn’t it? That the Gods were jealous. The supposed “fear” for the humans’ lack of devotion is but an excuse.

Wrathful and spiteful Gods – what a familiarly arduous concept.

No power, as well-intentioned as they may begin, can resist the sins of temptation. And I’m sure you’re aware by now that temptation can come in many forms. Even you, you who appears to have no weaknesses, aren’t immune to its effects.

With this at least I know that I may have some influence over you. That as indirect as this said influence may be, I am still the one behind it.

So why does this notion do little to dispel the loneliness?

Why does the brief moment of satisfaction fall away to give leverage to something deeper? Something more profound than whatever lies beneath the term “loneliness”? It does not describe the extent to which such melancholy resides. It does not describe the misery that threatens to plague me when you are not by my side. It does not pacify the fear, or the regret, or the ever-looming presence of whatever confusion brews inside.

Why did I dismiss you so early on in our acquaintance?

Because I have lived through the pain of love (regarding humans in particular). The way it ravages the soul and bears its destruction with no care for the consequences such violence reaps.

I have witnessed the anguish, the way it consumes one’s mind and leads them astray. I have seen to what extent this manner of delirium, like the seed of a forgotten weed, can flourish when left alone and unplucked. I carry this knowledge within me, and I recognize its devastation.

And I am torn.

For I have also seen the opposite. The other side, the one veiled in devotion. In such pure and unadulterated tenderness that has, I’ll admit, affected me. Even after the fall, I could not shake it. I cannot deny the existence of love in humans. How they can be infused with passion, and how that passion can snuff out any evil that may cause them doubt.

As enticing as temptation can be to humans, they are just as strong to push back against it. To resist and to surpass the limits that have been used to contain them. I see that in you.

In how you act in front of my brothers. But most importantly, in how you act in front of me. Do I amuse you? Do you think me off-putting? Is it not different now? Between us…

Why won’t you give yourself to me?

Why won’t you let me in?

How can I take back what I may have done that unknowingly tainted your view of me? How can I tint your gaze with desire like my own? How can I decorate my words with the fondness that I hide so that I may appear as unstirred as you?

So many questions that I hold close to my chest, like roses in the breast-pocket of my vest. They are left unanswered and better thought of as unmentioned in your absence. Their thorns, however, tear through the fabric and prick my skin, drawing beads of blood.

This bond, it grows. Yet I fear that it is one-sided. That if I were to draw a scale, it would undoubtedly tip and crumble at my feet. Hesitation makes a mockery of me, my love. May I call you as such?

Do I dare to reveal my intentions so blatantly?

My love…my dearest…it grows. It blooms. It flowers and it’s beautiful. Would you allow me to imagine it? Us. Not just the idea of us. I want to imagine the reality of us. As tangible and as visible as both the warmth and the flush on my cheeks when I think of you.

I want to hold your hand in mine and feel you squeeze my fingers. I want to kiss your lips and drink your affections. I want…

…I want you to tell me that you love me. That I am not alone in my realizations. That you’re as helpless as me to succumb to them.

That for me, you will not resist the temptation of love.

[labrunereve]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝔅𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔡𝔦𝔠𝔱 𝔅𝔯𝔦𝔡𝔤𝔢𝔯𝔱𝔬𝔫 𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ⋆·˚ ༘ *

💯 super great fic║⭐️ chef’s kiss

𓆤 They’re Not the Only Ones Part. I | Part. II | Part. III by @maximoff-pan ⭐️

Summary: 4 times you and Benedict judge others for their obliviousness, and 1 time they all judge you

𓆤 An Artist’s Eye by @iliveiloveiwrite ⭐️

Summary: Benedict Bridgerton was an artist, even if his inspiration had no idea of what he feels.

𓆤 Words to be Said by @kirascottage 💯

Summary: Benedict finally gathers the courage to court you.

𓆤 Seeing Benedict Again After A Long Time Apart Would Include… by @writeroutoftime ⭐️

Summary: The title says it all…

𓆤 As Poets Do by @scandalous-chaos ⭐️

Summary: When the evening gets a bit too much, ben stumbles upon a stranger.

𓆤 [Untitled] by @delphispoeticals 💯

Summary: Being super in love with each other after being married to Benedict Bridgerton.

𓆤 A Proper Choice by @redheadspark

Summary: As an old friend of the Bridgerton Family, you attend a ball with the family, and an unruly suitor tries to dance with you. Benedict comes in to save the evening.

𓆤 Handprint by @siempre-bucky

Summary: Another season for elegant ladies and overzealous mamas was upon the ton! And you arrived back in London from your art education in Paris to join your family for your baby sister’s debut season. After learning about a beautiful art gallery in the estate from Viscountess Bridgerton, you meet a handsome man with charcoal stained hands.

𓆤 Paint Stains, Bare Legs by @velvetcloxds

Summary: Benedict is a simple man, whenever he sees you wearing his shirt which leaves your bare legs on show for him, he turns into a lovesick fool.

𓆤 [Untitled] by @joline12829

Summary: Benedict and the reader being in love with each other.

𓆤 En Garde by @delphispoeticals 💯

Summary: where you care too much about what your mother thinks, much to your siblings dismay, it almost guides all of your decisions. but when you rely on what you want… you find it to be rather rewarding — starting with a simple game of fencing. En Garde.

𓆤 An Artistic Dilemma by @ithebookhoarder

Summary: Everyone knows an artist is nothing without their muse and thankfully for you, your darling husband is always only too happy to lend you his services. It is in the name of art, after all…

𓆤 I’ll Leave You Words by @bennybridge 💯

Summary: Benedict leaves you notes every single morning and has done since the first day of courting you.

𓆤 [Untitled] by @multi-fandom-imagine

Summary: Benedict being so obviously in love with his wife and making sure everyone knows she is with him.

𓆤 Family by @delehosies

Summary: Benedict knew from the start that his family would love Y/N when he’s introducing her.

𓆤 Paper Rings by @wonderlandprose 💯

Summary: Benedict fell in love with a girl he adored so much.

𓆤 Perfection Through My Eyes by @dragon-baron 💯

Summary: Benedict is the reader’s perfect muse!

𓆤 [Untitled] by @multi-fandom-imagine

Summary: One of the reader’s favorite things she enjoyed was Benedict petting her head.

𓆤 [Untitled] by @multi-fandom-imagine

Summary: Benedict coming home with a rescued cat for his wife since he knows how much she loves animals.

𓆤 [Untitled] by @multi-fandom-imagine

Summary: How would Benedict react to seeing his wife wearing his clothes for the first time?

𓆤 Tulips by @siempre-bucky ⭐️

Summary: The five times Benedict gave you tulips and the one time you asked him why.

𓆤 My Muse by @magicalxdaydream

Summary: Benedict shows the reader that there’s always a little bit of her in everything that he paints.

𓆤 Pall Mall by @tontattletale 💯

Summary: Benedict and his wife enjoys a game of pall mall with the Bridgertons and the Sharmas.

𓆤 [Untitled] by @multi-fandom-imagine 💯

Summary: The reader comes over to the Bridgerton house only to be greeted by a very high (and apparently, clingy) Benedict.

𓆤 [Untitled] by @multi-fandom-imagine 💯

Summary: Imagine waking up to your three kids painting on your husband’s face.

𓆤 To Be Loved and To Be in Love by @desertno3 ⭐️

Summary: You had been best friends with Benedict for as long as you can remember; however, your first season had come and gone and Benedict had not been as active a participant as his mother had hoped he would be. You had left London betrothed to someone else and that was that. But news about your disastrous betrothal reaches Aubrey Hall in the spring. And it changes everything.

𓆤 [Untitled] by @multi-fandom-imagine 💯

Summary: Benedict sitting in the drawing room working on a sketch and pulling you to sit on his lap, not carrying if his siblings see you cuddled up together.

𓆤 Portraits When Writing Failed by @multifailures 💯

Summary: In silent company, Benedict and Y/N would work until Benedict found something he definitely was not meant to see.

𓆤 [Untitled] by @delehosies 💯

Summary: Reader is so proud seeing her happy family.

𓆤 Muse by @thebadgerclan

Summary: You’re Benedict’s muse…

𓆤 The Trials & Tribulations of Pining From Afar by @bridgertoncore

Summary: In which one recounts the trials and tribulations of Benedict Bridgerton when he’s pining after a girl who simply doesn’t give him the time of day.

𓆤 Look For Me by @libraryofloveletters

Summary: In which a mysterious flower was sent to the reader to help her search for her admirer.

𓆤 Beethoven by @cantstoptheimagines 💯

Summary: When Benedict is struggling with his creativity, you’re always there to help.

𓆤 A Secret Romantic by @ijustwant2write

Summary: Eloise, as it turns out, is a brilliant matchmaker!

𓆤 Pain in My Heart by @iliveiloveiwrite ⭐️

Summary: Daphne and Eloise are trying to play matchmaker for Anthony and the reader, but little did they know that the reader is actually pining for another Bridgerton brother.

𓆤 How It’s Made by @iliveiloveiwrite

Summary: When Eloise asks about how babies are made, everyone was left speechless. And the reader is left in a dilemma on whether to tell her or not…

𓆤 Compromised Part. I | Part. II by @vintunnavaa 💯

Summary: Benedict Bridgerton was never the sort to indulge in rakish behaviour, so when the news of him compromising a woman’s honour spread, he must do the right thing. And hope that his betrothed turns out to be the woman of his dreams.

𓆤 My Love by @redheadspark 💯

Summary: Your husband, Benedict Bridgerton, gets caught up in a storm with his brother Anthony while they are out hunting, making you fear the worst.

𓆤 Middle of the Night by @bennybridge 💯

Summary: In where Benedict and you have been friends for years, you are in love with him and Lady Whistledown decides to write about it in her infamous scandal sheet.

𓆤 Invisible String by @purelyfiction ⭐️

Summary: Benedict has always been there to take care of you, but what happens when he sees you with another man who’s just as caring as he is to you?

𓆤 [Untitled] by @multi-fandom-imagine

Summary: Benedict comforting the reader after she wakes up from a nightmare.

𓆤 Oh Brother by @ficnacs

Summary: Y/n’s brother is a student at The Royal Academy of Arts. What happens when he brings along a (rather attractive) friend?

𓆤 [Untitled] by @multi-fandom-imagine

Summary: Reader felt neglected seeing that her husband spends most of his time doing his art.

𓆤 Accident by @bennybridge

Summary: Bridgerton brothers go on a hunt but Benedict returns unconscious. You realise that you can’t live in a world that Benedict’s not in.

𓆤 My Anchor by @ladysharmaa

Summary: Y/n and Benedict had been best friends since they were born, blind to their feelings for each other. When Edmund Briedgerton dies, Y/n is there to comfort Benedict, leaving him to cry on her shoulder.

𓆤 Please by @leydileyla

Summary: You’re in the library late at night sketching when a certain Lord that you have been trying to avoid comes your way.

𓆤 Irreparable by @purelyfiction ⭐️

Summary: After marrying one of the sons of a man your father owes money to, you find yourself finally falling for him nearly a year into your marriage. That is until there is news of a toll to your marriage that might not be salvageable.

𓆤 Just Friends by @pixiehollands ⭐️

Summary: You and Benedict aren’t just friends, and you both clearly know it.

𓆤 Truth Unseen by @make-me-imagine ⭐️

Summary: Benedict and the reader are best friends but he didn’t realize he was in love with the reader, until he saw her with someone else.

𓆤 Duty and Ruin by @murdockbarnes 💯

Summary: Dutybound to marry to prevent the ruin of lady, a party of three enter into a marriage: the lord, the lady and the growing feelings of resentment of being forced into such a situation festering between them.

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Downfall | Yan! Ayato

yandere Ayato x fem! Reader

Pt. 1

Warnings: general yandere themes, obsessive and possessive thoughts/behaviors, mention of verbal abuse, implied power abuse, mention of blood and vomit, minor character death, stalking, implied threats/past threats, self-harm (nothing major nor was it done in a way that was supposed to cause injury knowingly), broken rips, mention of a one-sided fight. Tell me if I miss anything please.

disclaimer: I do NOT condone any of the toxic or dangerous thoughts and behaviors that take place in this piece of fiction. None of these actions and  thoughts should be considered romantic or even normal as they extremely toxic and dangerous. 

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI OR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!!

Reader used to be a crazy stalker and it bites her in the ass.

A/N: I spent days on this only to end up with 5 pages.

Unedited.

Wordcount: 2588k

 ----

You used to be obsessed with him.

With the way his light blue hair would sway in the wind and bounce with very step he took. The way his eyes would light up and turn into purple gems whenever he saw something he was interested in. The polite smile he would show the people whenever he made one of his rare appearances. The fresh scent of rain that followed him everywhere and left traces of it behind. A handsome young man who held so much power in the palm of his hand yet was treated as a puppet.

You used to be obsessed with him, Kamisato Ayato.

No, to be completely honest, you were obsessed with the idea of him, rather than the real him. Flesh and bones that you couldn’t touch, the voice you barely, if ever, heard, eyes that never looked at you – all of it didn’t cease your longing for the man for a good while. A lovesick fool who let her interest become an obsession over a man she only shared one simple conversation with. If you could even call it that.

It was nothing more than an exchange of words for politeness.

Yet it somehow fueled your curiosity about the man. Maybe it was the thought of a silly romance like ones you’ve bought in the form of light novels. Giggling at the thought of a forbidden romance that would survive no matter what came there way. Desperate for something to distract you from the bleak life you led, you emerged yourself in them. And, unfortunately, after a while, you were a bit too influential.

Reality and fiction started to mix, and before long, you became obsessed with it. With him.

The way you met could be called romantic. But considering what took place afterwards – obsessing over him, becoming his stalker – it wasn’t. It was the start of something painful, dark and twisted. It was the start of your downfall.

You still remember it, sadly – accidentally bumping into him as you sneaked out from your house. You were younger then, young and hardheaded. Still are, but not to the same degree, and certainty not over the same thing. Apparently, he was also sneaking out, if what he said was true. He held a finger up to his lips, prompting you to keep it a sweet little secrete between the two of you. Of course, you agreed – it was a rebellion, in a way.

It made a wildfire grow in you; blooming flowers that couldn’t be kept tamed anymore. It made you feel alive and was like a scene out of a light novel. It distracted you from your jaded day-to-day life.

And you clung onto it like it was your lifeline.

Looking back at it, you supposed that it was normal to feel butterflies futtering away in your chest. He was your first ‘love’, first secret to be kept, first experience that didn’t involve behaving like the perfect daughter. And if it had stopped there, simple daydreams of starting a secret relationship with him without acting on it, it would have been fine. But it didn’t stop there, instead it grew like weeds that were sapping up everything that made you, well, you.

You became a deranged stalker, constantly trying to find ways to get closer to him. To make him notice you, any attention considered good, even if it was disgust You wanted his eyes on you, thoughts full of you – you wanted to haunt like a nightmare that was treated as salvation. Like he was to you.

His downfall, his savior, it didn’t matter – you just wanted to be part of his life. And, well, it was obvious that something was on your mind. That you had changed, like a Yokai had possessed you over night. And it could have been that you wished it was. Something – someone – else to take the blame for you.

But it wasn’t.

Letters and gifts that were addressed to him that should have been ripped apart and burned. Catching a glance of him whenever he made one of his rare public appearances, engraving the sight to memory, his white suit always standing out among dull colors of the crowd. Eyes that held nothing but obsession that belonged to you – it makes you sick. All of your past actions make your stomach churn, shame and embarrassment filling you up like water.

There was more that you did. More extreme things that almost claimed your life:

Attempting to join the Yashiro Commission.

Now, in the present, you question how come you were never arrested for charges of stalking. Of how you weren’t watched like a hawk, making sure you didn’t make any unusual or dangerous movements that could pose a threat. You should have been on a watch list, if not thrown in jail.

It was only later that you would find out that yes, you were watched. You were tracked like prey, the predator waiting for the perfect chance to strike. You didn’t notice the stares back then, didn’t hear the light footsteps that would surround you, only wondering why it felt eerie even during the day. Red flags always look normal when you’re wearing rose-tinted glasses.

Extreme training that left you sore for days, broken limps and black eyes – a sacrifice you were willing to make back then. The Yashiro Commission was looking for new recruits, and despite not having any talent for ninjutsu or combat, you tried your luck. The training program took you in, expecting you to improve at least enough to officially join. But you never did, always lagging behind like a snail racing against a fox.

You weren’t suited for the Yashiro Commission and the Yashiro Commission wasn’t suited for you.

Denial can be a scary thing. It can make someone refuse to see the errors of their ways, continuing to ruin themselves for something that wasn’t even worth a second of their time. And you were full of denial after the first time of failing the test. And the second time that left you with bruises for days, the third time you were knocked out for days. You just kept… failing over and over again

And each and every time, you would beg for another chance, on your hands and knees with your forehead almost touching the ground. They would accept every time, and looking back at it now, you’re not sure if it was because they pitied you or because they were under orders to do so. The second one makes more sense, was more likely, just by the looks they would share with each other – uncertainty that stained their eyes like dye. Your dignity was thin and snapped easily whenever it came to anything that remotely involved that man.

Dignity that slowly but surely came back throughout the years, the less obsessed you became whenever you bothered to think about it. It was three years you spent chasing and stalking Ayato, questioning yourself. Did you really want this? Or did you clung onto something that felt different without real cause? It consumed your thoughts, constantly trying to justify your behavior only to doubt yourself moments after.

The clearer your thoughts became, the more you started to act like your past self – lively, social, friendly. Logical.

And then, the incident that helped you make your final decision.

It was a training exercise that went terribly wrong. An ambush of Treasure Hoarders that singled out the newbies – or least skilled – and lured them away from the main group. But it should have been obvious, from how the wind felt, the extra pair of footsteps that tried to align with yours – suspicious. But you didn’t say anything, thinking it was part of the exercise. Mistake number one.

Mistake number two was when you separated from rest of the group when you heard someone calling for you. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back, right? It was a gamble, what you would come across, a gamble you thought was harmless, only to get beaten so had you came out alive with two broken ribs and a black eye. The taste of blood, dirt and vomit engraved itself into your memory, never forgetting it even months after the fact. Even now, sometimes you think you can hear your ribs crack again.

An arrow engulfed with electro, landing straight in the treasure hoarder’s chest, a gloved hand that covered your eyes as a smooth voice told you to rest – Kujou Sara was the one who rescued you. Apparently, her and her trope was in patrol and just happened to overhear the commotion. A miracle? Was it something he planned? You’re not sure.

You’d like to think it was a miracle, that General Kujou wouldn’t listen to a man like him. A snake that coils itself around you, strangling you. Each breath you take could be your last, each sight you see could turn blind. Each step you take could crippled you. Everything you do was noted down as you were followed. You guess that now, he would claim it was for your safety.

Three months spent in bed, being watched over by a doctor, any sort of freedom gone – like you couldn’t be trusted to stay out of trouble. Perhaps it was here, when you finally accepted the fact, you needed to stop that lifestyle. That the ‘love’ you held for Kamisato Ayato was nothing more than a dangerous obsession. You had lost yourself to the void only to be brought out of it by a close encounter with death. It’s laughable.

You didn’t have any close family, living with a grandmother who was emotionally distant. Verbal abuse that would be replaced with a warm meal, never fully apologizing for what she said or did. One of the reasons you drowned yourself in a sea of light novels and friends, which pointed out that you were getting caught too deep in. You brushed off their worries like dust, a tight smile as you objected. Something else you would soon come to regret.

You left the program with nothing but a letter, handing it to the officer in charge. He took it, read it, and begged you stay. Like he was in fear of his promotion being taken away. You had smiled, squatting down to his height as he bowed on the ground. You pat his head, whisper traveling with the wind as you told him you couldn’t do this anymore.

And you had left, just like that.

And well, recovery from your mental state was quite the journey. Denial, shame, guilt, laughter and cries – it swallowed you whole. It left you awake late at night, staring at the sky filled with shining stars as everyone else was asleep. It cleared you mind, giving you a second chance at life. Peaceful, it was starting to become peaceful.

It only lasted for two months, however.

Letters you wrote that were returned to you in the dead od night, the gifts you made left in cute little boxes that were tied with the finest of silk. Flowers you didn’t even recognize left in front of your door, your name written on a piece of paper – it disturbed you. Horrified and scared you. Because it meant they remembered, knew and wouldn’t let you forget. You were sure of it.

It was a warning.

And now, back to the present, you got your answer.

--

“Excuse me, Lord Kamisato,” you try to push past him, only for him to stop you with one simple word. You’ve been bumping into him more lately, these days. You thought it was a coincidence the first few times, finding the Yashiro Commissioner buying boba tea or even giving one of his rare speeches. Handling things behind the scenes was usually what he did, staying away from the prying eyes of the public. According to his sister, miss Ayaka, he was never one to like attention.

Only when it comes from you though, it seems.

“Ah, it’s been a while, (name).” A smile that looks a little too sweet, a look in his eyes that sends chills down your spine. A gloved hand reaches up, removing a Sakura petal from your hair. You want to bite those digits off.

“Has it? I remember quite clearly that we saw each other last week,” hiding your frown behind your sleeve as you play coy. It was the only thing you could do, in a situation like this. If you let your fears of the man overtake you, he’ll get cockier, sly even. If you held your head up high, nose pointed away from him, he resorts to meaner plans. So, you are forced to play coy – not too prideful, but enough of it to where it forces him to take a step back.

This game of cat and mouse drives you insane, leaving you to scream into pillows and pull your hair out like a madwoman.

“Ah… yes, of course. But last week could have been the last time we saw each other –,”

“The weather is nice today. We should enjoy it while it lasts. Individually. It’s nicer that way, isn’t it?” You interrupt him, hands clammy as you hide them behind your back. Your smile holds nothing but bitterness that turns his mood the least bit sour.

“Being alone with your thoughts isn’t always a good thing,” Ayato takes another step towards you, light blue hair shining in the sunlight. He looks like an angel. Shame he was closer akin to a devil or demon.

“My thoughts are better company than many others.” The way his eyes narrows lets you know you’re starting to cross a very thin line. Resentment dwells inside you, the longer you look at him the more power the urge to throttle him becomes. But he’s a vision holder, powerful both in terms of strength and politics. He was a lion while you were a rabbit.

He mulls over what to say next. Perhaps a warning or maybe he’ll offer – force – a tea invitation upon you. Something you can’t reject, lest you’ll be followed by the Shumatsuban more intensely once more. Usually, he would have grabbed a hold of you, and ‘politely’ suggest you take his invitation. But you’re currently surrounded by herds of people, some gawking at the sight and others minding their business.

He still has an image to maintain, willingly or not.

“My lady,” he starts off, a placid smile painting his features. It doesn’t reach his eyes or match his tone. “It would be an honor to take a stroll with you. While the day is beautiful, it pales in comparison to you.” Gently, he takes your hand the moment you show it by instinct, bringing up to his lips to deliver a kiss to the back of it.

It takes everything in you to not gag.

“My Lord… this is inappropriate behavior to display in public.” The hairs stand on the back of your neck. Your body is creaming at you to run and hide. You really were a rabbit, a meek and defenseless rabbit ready to be eaten.

Ayato, damn the bastard, offers another smile. Your other hand, still hidden behind your back, clenches. Nails dig into your palm deep enough to draw blood. You want to pull your hand back and slap him for even touching you. You want to scream bloody murder.

“You used to be so loyal to me… if only you still were.”

You were the cause of your own downfall.

 ----

Tag list: @99-nct @lawsfav

@spacegayparty @bubblemintchocolate

@myschevious

[imaginethisimaginethat]

Yours, forever • [B.B x reader] Part 2

Summary: Benedict is being serious about wanting to call for you the night after the ball, and your mother is one sneaky woman.

I also can’t do the ‘see more’ option cos i’m on my phone i’m sorry!

Warnings: none :)

Word count: 1.4k

Part 1 | Part 3

Waking up in the morning, your only thoughts were of last night, dancing with Mr Bridgerton. The sun shone through the curtains as the early morning sun graced your eyes. You knew it would be soon time to rise from your bed chamber and face your potential suitors and you were nervous, rightfully so.

As the birds chirped through your open window, you forgot what it was like for a second, to be you. You often wished you were a normal girl, with an ordinary family who didn't have to marry a wealthy, high up man. If Benedict was anything to go by, he seemed somewhat in the middle of it all. Of course, he and his family had money, but he was not opposed to clearly creating a scandal. If anything was to show last night, he loves a great tease in public.

And you loved that excitement. The way he made you feel by just a touch of his hands on your wrist. You had obviously never been with a man. You didn't even know what that truly meant, but you had whispers amongst other ladies.

A knock on your door took you from your thoughts, "Miss Y/L/N, it's time to rise for the day."

"I'm awake, Lily." You called, sitting up in bed for the first time this morning. You usually liked to mill around in your pyjamas for the first half of the morning, but you knew that wouldn't be ladylike of you today.

"Are you excited for your callers today, Miss?" Lily asked, opening your wardrobe to pick out an outfit for you. You had always let her, as she had great sense of style. She picked out a gorgeous pink dress with small, decorated flowers on it. A small pair of satin soft pink gloves to go with it.

You got out of bed, and she started to dress you for the day, helping you into your corset. Making sure to pull extra tight today. Lily wanted you to make the best impression, clearly.

"Your Mama said, 'tighter the better'." She winced as you sucked in your breath.

"And here's me thinking it was you that wanted me to look my best." You quipped.

"That to, of course, Miss Y/L/N." She shyly looked down and continued to pull at your corset strings. She pulled your dress over your head, with the corset on, this dress really did pull you in at all the right places. Lily fixed your hair how you liked it best and smiled, "Gorgeous, as always."

"Thank you, Lily. That's very nice of you." You said, pulling up your gloves on your arms. If you knew any better, Lily liked you more than a woman should. Not that you would have been opposed, but legally it was not allowed.

You got up from your chair and made your way down the stairs. The array of flowers in the hallway was enough to shock the whole of England. There were so many, all from different gentleman. One stood out more than the others though, bright yellow sunflowers, amongst all the reds, purples, pinks and blues. They were stand alone, for sure.

Walking up to them, you were hoping they were from Mr Bridgerton and as you read the card, you were correct.

I told you I was serious.

Mr B.

You shook your head as you read the card repeatedly, pulling it to your chest and closing your eyes. You felt like you were lovesick for this fool, this fool that had only met once. Or maybe, you were the fool.

Placing the card into the top of your glove, you walked into the living room where your Mother, Brother and Sister were already sat.

"Good morning, did you sleep well?" Your mother asked, as you sat by your brother.

"Yes, Mama. All that dancing last night really tired me out." You took a sip of the tea on the table, that was just made by one of the many servants you had in the house.

"Are you expecting anyone in particular today to call for you?"

"Oh – well I was rather hoping Mr Smith or Mr Bridgerton would call."

"Let's hope it's the latter." Your Mother was an extremely cheeky woman. She allowed you to be that with her too, in the privacy of your own home, who was going to judge you?

"I hope so." You shrugged and fell back onto the sofa, leaning your head on your brother's shoulder.

"Is someone in love?" Your Brother cooed. Ruffling your hair, making you sit up straight and push him slightly to the side.

"Don't be so daft, love comes with time."

"Lust then maybe?" He winked.

"DAVID Y/L/N!" Your Mother shouted, making your brother stop his taunts all together.

You wondered what that truly meant, that word you had never heard of before. You assumed it was something your lady ears should not hear from the way your Mother screeched your brother's name. You were naive to the ways of life.

"Sorry to interrupt, but you have your first caller of the day, Miss Y/L/N." One of the servants told you, hanging by the door.

"Let them in."

—

The rest of the day went by quickly, you had spoken to many different gentlemen. Some you had danced with the night before and some you had not. The only person you were hoping for, hadn't turned up yet and you were beginning to feel disheartened. Surely, he hadn't just sent flowers and not decided to show his face.

Until the same servant came to the door again, "You have one last caller for today, Mr Bridgerton is here to see you."

You looked over to your Mother who's faced had lit up with excitement for you, you nodded frantically at the servant who only but smiled in acknowledgment.

And there he was, as handsome as he was last night but even more so, if that was even possible.

"Mrs and Miss Y/L/N, I hope you are both well today." Benedict said, entering the room and coming to sit down opposite you.

"Very well, thank you Mr Bridgerton." You smiled up at him, as he came over to give you a small kiss on the hand. Holding your forearm gently, again you began to get flustered almost instantly.

"I'm actually rather parched, I think I need to get a drink." Your Mother rose from her seat, giving you a knowing look. She was always one to let you do as you so pleased and was never one to step in the way of what could be, "I'll be back in five minutes."

You were now left alone with Benedict, just you and him in a room on your own without a chaperone. The door was still open, but still all of this was scandalous. Lady Whistledown would have a field day if she knew this was happening.

"I take it your Mother is not one for the rules." Benedict moved over to sit next to you, holding your hand in his.

"Sometimes she is Mr Bridgerton, other times, not so much."

"I like her." He smiled, that lovely smile that you have only witnessed once but melted your heart either way.

"I'm guessing she also thinks the same."

There was some silence between you, something unspoken between your eyes, and he spoke again, "I think you are fascinating and well, I would like to get to know you."

"I would love nothing more." You grabbed both of his hands, and he placed both of your hands on his chest.

"So, I will ask, will you allow me to court you, Miss Y/L/N?" Benedict's piercing gaze into your own, he played with your fingers in his own and leaned his face closer to yours.

"Yes, Mr Bridgerton, you may." Your face began to get closer to his and your foreheads connected, "Is this truly happening?"

He laughed slightly, "I believe so. I never truly believed in love at first sight, but I have come to the truth that it does exist."

"And I never knew men could be so soppy." You laughed back.

"You wound me."

You both took a look at the door as you heard your Mother's voice coming back and that was your cue to move from the compromising position you were both in.

"Tomorrow, a promenade around Hyde Park should do as well, don't you think?" He asked, standing up to look at you as he retrieved his hat and gloves from the table.

"It would be my pleasure."