#there's so much to Absorb again and again. i get the feeling any true work from this i would do in a form of an animatic though.. oops

[averlym]

some very very quick costume shorthands!

[httpiastri]

18+ content, minors dni

‎‎ ‎ ‎

it's as if out of habit that one of your hands reaches down between your legs, pointer finger meeting your clit drawing out a low sigh from you. lando's too slow, you think – he's been working on undoing his belt and jeans for far too long now, so it's his own fault anyway. plus, he's been edging you on for what feels like years, fingering you and lapping you up but pulling away just before can come undone. you deserve some kind of release.

you knew you shouldn't have teased him tonight. you know how insecure he is when it comes to you flirting with his friends, especially oscar, and you know how jealous it makes him. and still, you just couldn't help it. the look on lando's face when oscar's hand grazed your thigh was almost too good to be true. but when you do something like this, you also have to take your punishment like a big girl.

do you understand it? yes. will you do it willingly without any complaints? most certainly not.

your boyfriend's eyes land on you when he has discarded his pants, and his hand immediately swoops down to grab your wrist, pulling it away from you. a dismissive 'nuh-uh' sound vibrates from the back of his throat, and he cocks an eyebrow at you. "patience, love."

you whine, the desperate look on your face making lando grin. "you're so mean to me," you mutter, shutting your eyes as if not seeing him will make time pass quicker and help you feel less needy.

but his trademark laughter meets your ears, and it doesn't make things any easier for you. it's a reminder of him, of everything you love about him, and of how much you want him – how much you need him. "oh, you think this is being mean?" he scoffs, a hand reaching for your bare side. "sweetheart, you haven't seen anything yet."

your breath hitches in your throat when his bulge presses against you, boxers already wet with his precum leaking onto them. he grinds up and down your cunt, your slick staining the fabric even further. it's too much already; you're far too sensitive to deal with this. "p-please-" you whine, buckling your hips to get more friction.

"what do you want, love?" a new, incoherent whine slips past your lips, and lando answers with a chuckle. "use your words."

"take... take them off..."

he leans back, and you instantly miss the contact. but then you hear him shuffle around a little and feel the mattress dipping. "as you wish."

you suck in a breath when you feel his touch again, the anticipation in your stomach growing as his tip drags along your folds. and when he pushes the tip right past your entrance, relief washes over you – finally, after so much teasing, you'll get what you wanted.

or, that's what you thought.

lando doesn't go any further. he pushes just a few centimeters into you before sliding right out again. then he repeats his actions yet again.

he's not being fair.

"lando," you cry out, throwing your head back and arching your chest off the mattress. he doesn't answer, too absorbed in the view before him. and to think that he's the only one who gets to see you like this: whiny, needy, helpless. he thinks he's the luckiest man in the world.

he takes the opportunity right as he's presented with it; with the way your neck is exposed like that, how could he not lean down and press his lips to it?

his kisses are sloppy and slow, traveling down your throat and along your collarbones, leaving little lovebites in their wake. you hook an arm around his neck to keep him close and you begin to grind down on him, hoping he'll give in. but he just pulls his own hips back, pulling away from you instead of meeting your thrusts.

"i know i was wrong," you finally get out. "i shouldn't have flirted with him. but don't you think i've been punished enough already?"

he laughs yet again, and the sweet sound irritates you just as much as it turns you on. "hey," he says, pressing one last kiss to the side of your neck. "i want you to look into my eyes as i thrust into you, okay?" he pauses for a second, his breath warm against your throat. "can you be a good girl and do that for me?"

it takes all of the energy in your body for you to nod, before letting your eyes flutter open slowly. your gaze meets his instantly, and it satisfies him completely. you batting your innocent eyes up at him has always worked; you always get what you want.

[shibaraki]

HELD BY YOU, FELLED BY YOU ┊ TODOROKI SHOUTO

tags: GN reader, developing relationship, physical affection, touch starved shouto, loneliness, hugs + hand holding, fluff, only a little angst, obliviousness, pro hero shouto, reader works at hero agency

wc: 1.4K

series masterlist: 1/5

It is 4:03pm on a Thursday afternoon. The skies are grey, and the rain is so light it’s practically a wet fog. You have not touched Shouto in any meaningful way since Monday.

Before this week Shouto was certain that he must have been absorbed into a long-standing state of neutrality and apathy as a child. He didn’t long for anything, atleast, not in the way his friends claimed to. Whiny professions of loneliness, lamenting over romantic relationships and sex or lack thereof, dreamily recounting their passionate escapades. It didn’t appeal much to him.

Shouto had what he needed to survive—to live his day to day and climb the ranks without disruption, and it seemed that affection was not one of those things. The Todoroki household had never been particularly affectionate anyway. After his mother was admitted to the psychiatric hospital touch became less associated with comfort and happiness, and more of a thing to avoid altogether.

Shouto never actually voiced an aversion to touch. He held hands with crying children as he walked them back to their parents. He rubbed the backs of countless scared victims, he let them wrap around his arm and squeeze until his fingers grew numb. He offered his left side to elderly folk in the colder weather as they waited to be loaded into an ambulance.

But these small instances were always initiated by him, and his well-meaning friends decided to leave the ball in his court sometime during highschool. It never really left.

Until—

“Can I hug you?” you blurted. Your expression quickly twisted into a sheepish grimace. “You look like you could do with one, is all”.

At that moment Shouto had been sitting in the infirmary half covered in soot and picking out the bits of rubble that managed to get inside his suit’s ventilator. He stared up at you and wondered what that would even look like on himself, lifting a hand to feel his face and finding it relatively normal.

The sound of his heart flooded his ears and he frowned at the reaction. You weren’t a new friend by any means, but Shouto scarcely made new friends so you are newer than the others. You’ve never tried to be physically affectionate but he’s caught you gazing at him fondly sometimes, when you think he’s none the wiser, and he likes it.

Shouto nodded. Why, he doesn’t know. To quell your anxiety and get rid of the awkward atmosphere, he reasoned. Then your lips pulled into a soft, pleased smile, and he felt it like the sun on his face.

You stepped forward as though approaching some skittish animal. Shouto made no move to stand. He had only watched with trepidation as your hands lifted. A breath caught in his throat as they extended to rest on his sloped shoulders. “I’ll get you dirty,” he murmured dumbly in afterthought.

“That’s okay,” you replied, barely above a whisper. Your arms slipped around his back gently, and soon tightened to a secure hold when no objection came—there could be none, because the instant Shouto’s cheek pressed against your soft stomach, a rush of adrenaline speared through him and swept away all conscious thought.

To Shouto touch was like skipping a rock through the cavity in his chest; doing it only ever made its presence more obvious. But you cradled him there for what seemed like hours and he felt warm in ways he couldn’t articulate. Your fingers danced aimless patterns along the top of his spine, sometimes pausing to curl the wispy hair at his nape around them, and he sank.

True to his word, Shouto had dirtied your clothes. He apologised when you pulled away because it was all he could do not to whimper. You didn’t spare your shirt a glance—you just smiled at him again, and said you hoped it helped.

Helped? Helped?

The weight of your embrace had lingered for hours, cloven to the forefront of his mind, clinging to the memory before it became too obscure. Only now the memory hurt him to think about, and the pervasive ache for more intensified as the days passed.

Just this morning he’d wrapped his bedsheets tight and drew them around his shoulders to simulate that same feeling. Closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, picturing you there. Your sweet, purposeful touches. Your comforting scent. Your chest rising and falling. Your voice rumbling against his cheek. Heat filled his body, like you’d reached inside and turned the spigot of his heart.

It was mortifying. And exhilarating.

Shouto stuck his hand out from the shelter of the awning and let the rain lick at his fingers. Overturning his wrist, catching them on the shallow of his palm, he contemplates how he can get you to touch him again.

Last time you said he simply looked like he needed it. Too frustrating and vague, not to mention Shouto has been needing it all week. You could have meant his grimy post-battle appearance, but he didn’t really think this should warrant being thrown from another high rise building. Maybe he has to earn it this time.

You’re standing beside him, too preoccupied by the emails on your phone to notice his dilemma. Things have been fine. No awkwardness on your part, which he should probably be pleased about, but his mind keeps veering beyond rational conjecture. Nothing had changed. Everything had changed. It all felt too one sided.

Shouto gives you a sidelong glance. You might be the only person he knows that can look alluring in the dreary afternoon light. With a sigh he lets his hand drop to his hip and wipes it on his dry suit.

Your thumbs move fast across the screen. “Sorry, Shouto. I promise I’m not ignoring you—just need to reply to this intern,” you tell him. “God, have I ever mentioned how much I hate the email software your agency uses? Because I do”.

He hums, “You have”.

Whatever you hear in his voice has you looking up. There’s a crease etched in your brow, expression open and apologetic. Your gaze flickers to the hand held to his front, where he’s working out the static in his knuckles.

“Are you cold?” you ask, pocketing your phone. It’s a silly question. He is a walking furnace. But Shouto is statuesque as you reach to cup his distinctly bigger hand with your own. Heat prickles under his skin. The staccato of his heart kicks up. You lean down to exhale a warm breath over his fingers, and stroke your thumb along the dips and peaks of his knuckles.

Shouto sends a mental apology to Kaminari for the halfhearted response he gave after a long, lovestruck monologue about his girlfriend’s hands. He thinks he gets it, now.

Your lips curl into a satisfied smile. “Better?” you scan his face and the smile falters. “Shit. Sorry, Shouto. I should’ve asked,” then you’re retreating again and—

He reflexively grabs your wrist. It’s a loose grip, enough for you to free yourself from. You pause. “No,” a puff of steam billows out from his mouth and he has enough presence of mind to be embarrassed by it. “…It’s fine. You don’t have to stop”.

Your concern dwindles into amusement as he wafts it away. “Alright,” you say placatingly. The tension alleviates, and when your fingers slip against his you immediately twine them together, taking the ache in his chest with it. “Is this ‘fine’ too?”

Shouto nods, not yet trusting his voice or his quirk.

“I wasn’t sure if I crossed any lines on Monday,” your eyes dipped to stare at the pavement as you continued. “I know you aren’t touchy feely like the others. They were… surprised when I mentioned the hug”.

“I didn’t think I was,” he swallows, flexing his fingers to squeeze your hand. “I liked it”.

You squeeze back, “You did?”

Shouto squeezes harder, and can’t stop the smile coming unbidden to his lips. “I did,” he says.

You meet his gaze. He’s pinned by that fond look you always try to hide from him. “Do you want another one, then?”

“But I didn’t do anything”.

A litany of emotion passes over your face at his response. There’s determination in the purse of your lips as you step into his space, entangled hands caught between your bodies. Wrapping an arm around his waist, you tuck your nose into the hollow where his jaw met his neck.

There’s a clumsiness to his movements as he follows your lead and slips his arm around your back. Head suddenly too heavy for his neck, he rests his cheek on your crown, melting into the embrace.

“You don’t need to earn my affection, Shouto. Not now and not ever”.

“Oh,” Shouto breathes. “I can just ask?”

“You can,” you laugh softly.

Why hadn’t he thought to just—ask. That is far more reasonable than being flung from another burning high rise.

“What?”

Ah. He pulls you further into his chest until you’re pressed together like the pages of a book. “Nothing”.

[k0juki]

some angst with joost (with an happy ending pls)

A/n: I can actually write something over 1k words? Also I think the end is poorly written, so bear with me. xdd

Where have you been?

Joost Klein x fem!reader

English is not my first language, so feel free to point out any mistakes or errors! More posts here.

Warnings: maybe some abandon issues (I'm really bad at this..)

Wc: 1253

---

Joost was locked in his room all day. You didn't blame him. He was gaining popularity and he was doing everything he could to make the most of it. But you also were scared for him. These last few days were a lot. 

He was stressed and you just wanted to help him. To give him some break from work. But he didn't want one.

"Joost? I made you some tea." You said and opened the door from his work room. He didn't say anything, he was still staring at the same spot on his computer. You didn't know if he was ignoring you or if he was really that busy with work.

You put the cup down on his desk and came behind him. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He still said nothing. 

"How is it going Joost?" You asked, truly curious about his work. 

"Good." He replied, it was short and without any sweet playfulness that you loved. 

"That's good." You whispered, with a small smile that was more forced than happy. He was just busy with work, you were repeating in your head, all and all over again.

"Do you wanna..." you began, "maybe, take a little pause from work?" You felt him tense up under your hands just as you finished. 

"Y/n, I have some work to do, can you stop?" Joost angrily remarked. 

"I didn't mea-" you didn't even finish the sentence, as Joost turned around and pulled out of your embrace. His face and eyes were hard, he was really mad.

"I told you to stop bothering me." He spatted at you. "Don't you have anything to do? Or bother?" The more he continued, the more it hurt. 

Inside of your head, you began to panic. What have you done? What were you going to do now? 

You didn't say anything, didn't do anything, just looked down and slowly left the room, softly closed the door behind you.

Why would he do that? You just wanted him to take a break, nothing more. Were you really that annoying? 

You made your way out of the house, leaving all things behind. Including your bag, phone and most importantly a keys. 

You had to clean your head. You didn't really realised you were crying till you touched your face. Where am I going? You thought, you just simply didn't know anything right now.

And the fact that it was getting darker as night approached, didn't help much. You made your way to the nearest park where you and Joost, from time to time, spent some moments together. You sat down on the bench, and just looked around.

You were enjoying the quiet atmosphere around you, but your thoughts were traitorous. Telling you all the bad things, even though they weren't true and real, only you were real, right now, at this moment.

As the night came, you still sat at the same place. You were playing with the rings on your fingers, as the cold slowly started to absorb you whole. 

And then you heard it. The soft call. Someone was calling you, your name.

"Y/n!"

Where was it coming from? Who was calling you? 

"Y/n, where are you!" 

It was getting closer. He was getting closer.  Joost. You could say something, anything, but you had no strength to do that. You lowered your head back down, doing nothing.

"Y/n-" Joost stopped in mid sentence as he saw you sitting all alone on the bench. He ran to you and as soon as he stood in front of you, he slowly crouched down and put his hands on your knees, where you were playing with your fingers.

"Hey..." Joost whispered, but now it was you who were silent. You didn't even look at him.

"I-I, I'm-m-" he was struggling to somehow put the whole sentence together. 

"I-i'm sorry Y/n. I'm so s-sorry." He began and looked down on the ground. "I shouldn't have yelled and been mean to you, it wasn't fair...to you, you were just trying to help me." As he continued, he put his head on your knees, you felt him shaking and your heart broke a little, but he  hurt you.

But he also knew about your traumas. You told him how you can't handle it mentally when someone yells at you, and he promised you to never do that, just to break that promise. 

"I'm so sorry Y/n. I really am." Joost whispered. “I was just stressed a-and I know that it doesn't change anything I said, but I'm still so sorry."

He broke in front of you. Crying by your legs.

"Can you say something...?" He whispered. And then he felt as you took your hands away from his own and he feared the worst. He didn't want to hear it, to go through another loss of someone he loves, but now just because of his stupidity.

He wrapped his arms around your legs, now wanting to let you go. But what he didn't expect was you to put your hands in his soft, blonde hair and started massaging his scalp.

"I forgive you." You whispered. Joost raised his head and looked you in your eyes with his red ones from crying. It took him some time to realize what he'd done, and when he went to apologize, you were nowhere to be found.

This panic that washed over him, he didn't feel it for a long, long time. When he tried to call you, he heard your phone ring in the kitchen, where you left it, along with other stuff he knew you wouldn't leave the house without. 

So he went searching for you, and all the places you could have been. He was also asking other people if they saw you, but they didn't. His last hope was a park. It was where you met. You were there, and when he saw you, he felt like he could finally breathe again.

"You...forgive me?" Joost couldn't help, but ask. His arms lose a bit around your legs, but it was still strong enough to keep you in place. 

"I forgive you." You repeated and took his face in your hands."I know you have it hard right now, but I just, I don't know...got scared a-and left. I shouldn't have done that. To scare you like that too." You felt his fresh tears as you spoke to him. He was really scared you would leave him too.

"I should be the one apologizing to you." Joost's voice cracked and then he kissed your palm. "You're not going to leave me, are you?" He asked with his crystal blue eyes. 

That question made you panic. "No, of course not. I could never." He is the love of your life, you couldn't just leave him.

"Let's just go home. I'm really cold." He stood up and pulled you in a hug. He didn't care about anything as long as you were with him, in his arms. Joost was repeatedly kissing the top of your head, with one hand in your hair and the other around you.

You heard him keep muttering how sorry he was, but you already forgave him. Now he just needed to forgive himself. 

"Here, take my jacket." He said and took his jacket off as he let you go. As soon as you had it around you, he took your hand back in his and together you made your way home.

---

Part 2? Idk...any ideas?

Don't copy or translate my work! Also the picture is not mine! Credit goes to owner!

[itneverendshere]

guilty conscience (+18)

chapter iii

pairing: rafe cameron x female!reader

summary: when ward cameron, a renowned business man and millionaire specifically requested your services through an escort agency, you assumed it would be just another job—brief and straightforward. however, your entire world shifted when ward disclosed his true intentions and rafe cameron stumbled into your life. there were rules, and rules were meant to be followed.

was money worth breaking someone’s heart?

taglist: lmk if you want to be added (comment down below! if you've already asked me to be here and I didn't tag you LET ME KNOW AGAIN CAUSE IM VERY FORGETFUL) : @tiaamberxx @haruvalentine4321 @maybankslover

Your phone buzzed in your nightstand, startling you out of your reverie. 

With a sigh, you fished it out, glancing at the screen to see Ward's name flashing in bold letters. You’d just texted him an hour earlier but spared any details for your sake.

Taking a deep breath, you answered the call, plastering on your most professional tone. 

"Hey, Ward. How's it going?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end, followed by Ward's booming voice, filled with impatience. 

"Well? Did you find him? How's it going over there?"

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to tell him you royally fucked up. The truth was things hadn't exactly gone according to plan. Rafe had slipped through your fingers not once, but twice, leaving you feeling more defeated than ever.

But you couldn't let Ward know that. Not yet, at least.

"It's... going." you replied vaguely, trying to keep your tone upbeat.

There was a pause on the other end, and you could practically hear Ward's mind whirring with impatience.

 "Make it faster," he snapped, his tone sharp and demanding. "He’ll be at the golf course tomorrow, 9 sharp.”

The golf course?!

You had never golfed a day in your life, let alone attempted to blend in with a bunch of rich snobs on the green. For fuck’s sake. This was going to be a disaster.

On the other hand, you were nothing if not resourceful. You didn’t know the first thing about golf, but you were a quick learner. And if there was one thing you were good at, it was improvising on the fly. 

“Sofia works there. Get his attention off her.”

Easier said than done. 

“Ward, your son looks at her like she hung the moon and the stars."

"I don't pay you to play matchmaker, sweetheart," he retorted sharply, his tone laced with irritation. "I pay you to get the job done. Now, I don't want any excuses tomorrow. Make sure you're at that golf course bright and early, and don't screw this up."

With that, he hung up the phone.

Fucking assshole.

You slammed your phone down on the nightstand, cursing under your breath.

Ward might have been your current employer, but that didn't mean you had to like him. Dealing with his crap was like dealing with a spoiled toddler throwing a tantrum. Except, you know, this toddler had a lot more money and power, which somehow made it even worse.

You were not some puppet he could just yank around whenever he felt like it, constantly ordering you around like some sort of lackey.

But you were not about to let Ward's ridiculous demands get the best of you. If he wanted you to be a professional golfer, you would give him just that.

The evening turned into a crash course on all things golf. Who knew there was so much to learn about golf etiquette? You spent hours glued to your laptop, absorbing every last detail you could find. And those YouTube tutorials? Let's just say you had never clicked on a video so fast in your life.

Then came the real fun—practicing your swing.

Spoiler alert: it was a hot mess. You must've looked like a total dweeb flailing around with that golf club in your hotel room. 

And let's not forget about perfecting your fake smile. You must've spent a solid hour in front of the mirror, trying out different variations until you found the one that said, "I'm totally a golf pro, trust me."

By the time morning rolled around, you were as ready as you'd ever be. 

You found yourself standing outside the gates of the local Country Club, taking deep breaths to calm your nerves. You glanced down at your outfit, a bunch of preppy pieces that you hoped screamed "I belong here" rather than "I have no idea what I'm doing." 

And hey, bonus points for the fact that it made your ass and legs look great. Confidence boost, check.

With a mental pep talk and a final adjustment to your collar, you stepped through the gates, steeling yourself for what lay ahead. The crisp scent of freshly cut grass filled the air, mingling with the distant sound of clubs striking balls and polite laughter. You felt like a fish out of water in this sea of polo shirts and khaki shorts, but you refused to let it show. 

Taking a deep breath, you approached the pro shop, hoping they had something available for a last-minute rental. Inside, it was bustling with old men browsing through rows of shiny clubs and chatting with the staff.

You stepped up to the counter, plastering on your best smile as you tried to appear confident. 

“Hi there," you greeted the clerk, your voice coming out a little shakier than you would have liked. "I was wondering if you had any clubs available for rent?"

The clerk eyed you curiously, clearly noticing your lack of golf attire. "Sure thing," he replied with a friendly smile. "What kind of clubs are you looking for?"

You paused, realizing you had no idea what kind of clubs you needed. "Um, just something... basic?" you ventured, feeling completely out of your depth.

The clerk nodded understandingly and disappeared into the back room, returning a moment later with a set of clubs. "These should do the trick," he said, handing them over to you. "Just sign here, and you're all set."

You hastily scribbled your signature on the rental form, feeling a rush of relief as you finally held the clubs in your hands. 

The course stretched out before you, lush green fairways bordered by trees and dotted with sand traps and water hazards. It all looked so pristine and posh, like something out of a magazine. You couldn't help but admire the luxury of it all, even though you felt like a total fish out of water.

Glancing around, you realized you were flying solo. No caddy to show you the ropes, no fellow players to offer tips or cheer you on. It was just you, your instincts, and the vast expanse of the course.

And let's not forget, your sheer power of delusion. 

Taking a deep breath, you placed your ball on the tee and tried to remember everything you'd learned from those YouTube tutorials.

Grip firm, eye on the ball, swing smooth. Easy, right?

With trembling hands, you lifted the club and took a practice swing, hoping to shake off some of the jitters. Then, with a quick scan down the fairway, you drew back and swung.

The ball sailed through the air, arcing gracefully before landing with a satisfying thud on the fairway. It wasn't the most impressive shot in the world, but it was a start. You hadn't missed the ball entirely or accidentally hit someone in the head.

Small victories and all.

You grinned, feeling a rush of pride. Maybe this golf thing wasn't so bad after all.

You continued to take swings, each one feeling a little more confident than the last. It was all about finding that rhythm, hearing that satisfying "thwack" when the club met the ball, and watching it soar through the air.

You got lost in the game, forgetting all about the stress of the morning. The sun was climbing, spreading this warm, cozy light over the course, and all around you, there were these little moments of nature - birds chirping, clubs swishing, and the occasional "fore!" from nearby players. 

It was kind of peaceful, in a way. All you cared about was nailing that next shot. Walking down the fairway, you couldn't help but grin to yourself. Sure, you weren’t exactly a golf prodigy, but who cared? 

Just as you were lining up for another swing, a voice startled you from behind. "Hey new face, need a hand?"

“Fuck!” You blurted out, nearly dropping the club at the sound of his voice.

There he was, Rafe Cameron, looking all cool and collected in his golf gear like he'd just stepped out of a magazine. And of course, he caught you in the middle of your amateur hour on the course. You were hoping to find him during a break, probably around the bar, lurking around Sofia.

"Hey.” he said with a smirk, sauntering over to where you stood frozen in embarrassment. "Didn't mean to scare you.”

You tried to muster up a nonchalant response, but all that came out was a nervous chuckle. "Yeah. Just, you know, getting some practice in."

For the first time in my life, you’d like to add. 

Rafe glanced down at the clubs in your hand, a glint in his eyes.

"Practice, huh? Well, you definitely look like you're giving it your all."

You wanted to die.

You forced a smile, hoping he couldn't see the panic swirling beneath the surface. "Yeah, well, gotta start somewhere, right?"

He chuckled, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "Mind if I join you?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the suggestion. This was not part of the plan, but you welcomed it anyway. You couldn't help but feel nervous at the thought of him witnessing your less-than-stellar golfing skills up close. But then again, you weren’t here to become a professional golfer, you were here to woo him off his feet and get paid.

Ward's words echoed in your mind—get his attention off her. And what better way to do that than by keeping him occupied with small talk on the golf course?

You shrugged, "The more, the merrier, right?"

"Exactly.” He said, falling into step beside you as you headed down the fairway. "So, how long have you been playing?"

You hesitated, not wanting to admit that this was your first time on a golf course. "Oh, you know, just getting into it recently," You replied vaguely, hoping he wouldn't press for details. "How about you?”

Rafe ran a hand through his tousled hair. "Been playing since I was a kid," he admitted. "It's kind of a family thing."

Of course, it is. Rich people. Nothing like a little golf for some family bonding time. But it gave you the opening you needed to make a personal connection. Nothing like sharing personal information to establish contact.

 “That’s cute. My family thing was shoving pizzas down our throat every Friday.”

Rafe chuckled at your comment, the sound genuine. “Pizza Fridays sound pretty great, actually."

You smiled back, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. Maybe this wouldn't be as awkward as you'd feared. "Yeah, they were definitely the highlight of the week," you admitted. "But I have to say, golf seems a lot more... sophisticated."

Rafe raised an eyebrow. "Sophisticated, huh? You must be hanging out with the wrong crowd."

You felt yourself relax a little more with each passing moment. 

"Maybe I just need the right teacher," you said, giving him a sideways glance.

Rafe's smile widened, and he stepped a little closer, "Well, lucky for you, I happen to know a thing or two about golf."

 "Is that so?" you replied, trying to keep your tone light despite the sudden flutter in your stomach.

Rafe nodded, his expression turning more serious. "Yeah," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "If you're interested, I'd be happy to show you."

You could feel every little detail, like how close you were and the intensity in his eyes, like they were trying to unravel some mystery hidden deep inside you. 

No, no, no.

Pull yourself together! You mentally slapped yourself, shaking off the dreamy haze that seemed to cloud your brain whenever he looked at you. You had goals, a mission to nail, and getting all googly-eyed over some suave, wealthy guy was not on the agenda. 

You flashed him this playful grin, trying to play it cool even though your heart was doing somersaults in your chest.

 "Oh, I dunno," you teased, taking a little step back to collect yourself. "Golf lessons? Sounds like it could burn a hole in my wallet. Can't be going broke over a new hobby."

Rafe chuckled, his eyes lingering on you for a second before he backed off, “You think I’d charge you?”

The way he said it, so casually, it sent a thrill through you, but you knew better than to let yourself get carried away. This was part of the game, after all.

“You’re always this nice to strangers?”

His blonde, tousled hair fell just so, framing his angular jawline, while a subtle stubble added a rugged charm to his appearance. And his smile... ugh, it's like he knew how fine he was. Rafe had this smirk that was just... chef's kiss. And his eyes? Sparkling like he was up to no good but in the best way possible. You couldn’t stop staring. 

“Only the pretty ones.” he replied smoothly, his tone dripping with flirtation.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, trying to maintain your composure despite the butterflies dancing in your stomach. But damn, if he didn't have a way with words.

"Well, lucky me then," you quipped, hoping your voice sounded steadier than you felt. “But don't think you're getting off that easy. I’m not just some pretty face, you know.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, gaze fixed on your hands as you moved them to fix your ponytail, “Is that so?"

Ah, you have no idea.

"Guess you'll just have to stick around to find out,” you replied with a cheeky wink, feeling a surge of confidence wash over you. “But fair warning, I'm not exactly a pro at this.”

Rafe chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Don't worry,” he said, his voice softening. “I'll go easy on you.”

His confident demeanor was infectious, and you couldn't resist playing along.

“Who said I wanted easy?”

He tilted his head slightly, his hair shifted with the movement, “You think you can take me?”

With that, he gestured for you to take the next shot. You could feel his eyes on you as you lined up your shot, the weight of his gaze fueling your focus.

Taking a deep breath, you blocked out all distractions and focused on the ball. Grip firm, eyes locked on the target, you swung the club with all the force you could muster.

The ball sailed through the air, soaring gracefully before landing with a satisfying thud on the fairway. You couldn't help but grin as you watched it roll to a stop, a surge of pride coursing through your veins.

Rafe let out a low whistle, his expression somewhat impressed. "Not bad," he conceded. "Let's see if you can keep it up."

“Sounds like you’re scared…”

His eyebrows practically hit the sky when you threw down the gauntlet, his lips curling up. "Scared?" he shot back, his voice oozing with playful doubt, “Of you?”

Oh boy.

“Of losing.”

“Pretty girl, I don’t lose.”

Yeah, we’ll see about that. 

“And you’d swing a lot harder if you arched your back just a little.”

"How so?” you retorted, your tone teasing.

Rafe stepped up behind you, his presence suddenly much closer than before. His large hands gently adjusted your posture, touch gentle yet firm. 

"Like this," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear as he guided you through the motion.

The warmth of his palms seeped through the fabric of your shirt, sending a wave of tingles across your skin. His fingers rested lightly against your sides, the pressure just enough to provide guidance without feeling intrusive. You tried to focus on his instructions, on the proper form and technique, but it was so fucking hard with him standing so close.

Every subtle movement, every brush of his body against yours…goddamn. You bit your lip to stifle a gasp, unable to believe how good it felt to have him so close.

"Alright, let's work on that swing.”

 There was a confidence in his tone, a subtle reassurance that made you want to combust on the spot. The way his voice rose and fell with each word…it was difficult to do anything with the sensation of his touch sending your senses into overdrive.

You tilted your head slightly and threw out the question, "Like this?"

Before he could even answer, you couldn't resist the urge to push the boundaries a bit. So, you arched your back ever so subtly, pressing yourself back into him. It was a total spur-of-the-moment move. 

There was a beat of silence that felt like an eternity. And then, oh my god, you felt his hands tighten slightly on your waist.

“Just like that.”

But then he stepped back and you couldn't help but feel disappointment at the loss of his proximity. You gave yourself a mental shake and got back into the swing of things – pun totally intended.

Grabbing the club again, you were all set to take your next shot. With Rafe's tips fresh in your mind, you took a swing, putting everything you had into it. And would you believe it? The ball actually went where you wanted it to, landing way closer to the hole than you expected.

Rafe's reaction was priceless. His eyebrows shot up again, and there was this look in his eyes like, this time he was genuinely impressed.

Score one for you.

But you weren’t about to get cocky just yet. So, you gave him a smirk and threw down the gauntlet. 

“Funnily enough, I never lose either.”

[joelalorian]

Petals of Affection - Part III

A floral mystery in three parts, featuring Jackson!Joel x f!reader

Summary: A secret admirer gifts you a different flower and a riddle ten times before you put the clues together and discover that he's been right in front of your face the whole time.

Written for @morallyinept's Flora & Fauna challenge. Please check out all the wonderful works created in Jett's honor!

Word count: 3,049

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, fluff, kissing, f!oral, unprotected p in v (it's 20 years into the fucking apocalypse), it's not stated, but I envision Joel having been snipped pre-outbreak, terms of endearment. POV flops around like petals in the wind. Reader has no established age or physical description aside from having hair that gets frizzy with humidity and often dirt-covered hands, because greenhouses, ya know? No use of y/n, none whatsoever.

Dividers courtesy of the wonderful @saradika-graphics. Gif chosen because of the wonderful floral wallpaper ;)

And this sweet little love story has come to an end. Thank you all for coming along for the ride! Your comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated more than I could ever say.

Part I | Part II | Masterlist

Jasmine Orchid Eustoma Lavender Magnolia Iris Lily Lilac Eucalyptus Rose

JOEL MILLER

Joyful moments shared; the answer lies in the air.

Overwhelmed by your grace, the answer hides in this place.

Endless thoughts of you, the answer is in the view.

Lost in your scent, the answer is present.

Moments with you, the answer rings true.

In your eyes, the answer lies.

Lost in your beauty, the answer is a duty.

Longing for your touch, the answer means so much.

Evergreen thoughts of you, the answer is in the dew.

Remember my love for you, the answer is in you.

JOEL MILLER!

Maria’s eyes roved over your scribbled notes, a broad smile slowly spreading across her face at the underline beneath Joel’s name. “Took you long enough. I was beginning to question your intelligence, girl!”

Heat warmed your cheeks as you laughed, though you weren’t sure if it was due to embarrassment or the wine. “The answer was right in front of my face this whole time, I just couldn’t see it.”

Flopping back on the couch, you felt a bit overwhelmed. Ducking your head between your knees as you leant forward, you sucked in a few deep breaths before baring your soul to your best friend. “I wanted it to be him. I longed for it to be him. But I didn’t dare to hope that it would be him. Do you know what I mean?”

“I do.” Maria’s voice held nothing but understanding. “Hope could lead to despair if not met.”

“Exactly!” you exclaimed, poking your head up to meet her dark eyes. “I couldn’t handle the despair, so I couldn’t dare to hope.”

Maria settled onto the soft cushion next to you, one arm reaching out to rub your back soothingly. “You have nothing to fear now. Joel did all this, for you.” Her free hand gestured at the flowers and notes scattered across the table. “His feelings for you are so deep, so true, that he came up with this elaborate plan to show you instead of just telling you, like any normal person would.”

Pausing, Maria waited until you met her gaze again with a watery smile, wanting to make sure you understood the point she was making. Her eyes earnest and smile broad, she added, “He was afraid to hope, too. But he did and look what has come of it.”

Tears built up, threatening to spill over as you absorbed everything. Joel loved you, just as you loved him, his grand gesture proving it beyond a shadow of a doubt. He dared to hope when you didn’t and thank goodness he did. You two would still be dancing around each other for who the fuck knows how long otherwise.

You stood suddenly, feeling revived and eager to see Joel at once. “I need to see Joel. I need to tell him I feel the same way.”

“Well let’s go then! He’s probably at my house with Tommy.” Maria led the way out of your house after you both scrambled to put shoes on, marching with purpose down the quiet road under the cover of a clear, starry sky.

Despite the late hour, you needed to see Joel, to return his declaration of love now that he bared his heart and soul to you in such a clever, romantic way. Crisp air filling your lungs as you walked, you felt the effects of the wine wear off. You never felt so clear-headed, so full of promise, so full of love.

“Do you know what you’re going to say to him?” Maria asked as you neared her house. Bright lights shining through the curtains showcased the shadowy movements inside of the two men inside.

“Not a clue,” you admitted, suddenly nervous. “My brain hasn’t gotten that far yet. Fuck! What am I gonna say?”

“Well, you could always just walk in and kiss him. Just lay a big wet one right on his lips,” Maria suggested, the nearly full moon reflecting mischievously in her dark brown eyes. As your mouth dropped open, she added, “Yes! That’s exactly what you should do!”

“Well, in the absence of anything better…”

Laughter still bubbled from your bellies as you followed Maria up the front steps and into her home. Nearing sensory overload, every cell of your body vibrated with the burning need to lay eyes, hands, lips on Joel.

“Is that you, honey?” Tommy called from the living room. The two of you turned the corner into the room, and Maria made a beeline right to her husband.

Ignoring the married couple, your attention focused on the other occupant of the room. Joel sat on the couch, leant back in a relaxed pose, one arm slung across the back cushions. His thick thighs spread wide, just begging for you to step between them.

Wide and unblinking, his burnt umber eyes watched as you stepped further into the room. Head tilting quizzically, he licked his lips as you approached with an impossible slowness. Neither of you could look anywhere else, gazes locked, bodies pulling together like magnets.

Joel’s pouty lips parted in surprise when you didn’t seat yourself next to him, electing instead to climb onto his lap. He blinked owlishly at you as your face moved closer, centimeter by centimeter, until your lips met his in a delicate first kiss. However brief, that initial press of your lips against his ignited an inferno within you both. You mouths came together urgently the second time, as lips, teeth, and tongues clashed. Your fingers carded through his silky soft, thick curls, nails tenderly scratching itches on his scalp he didn’t even know he had. He preened under your touch.

So absorbed in each other after months and months of longing and pining, dancing around feelings you hid for each other, the rest of the room blurred to nonexistence. Your ears picked up soft murmuring from Maria and Tommy, but you ignored it. Your world revolved around Joel, and Joel only, at that moment. You shifted, trying in vain to bury beneath every layer of his skin, until you straddled his lap.

At long last, you pulled back as the need for oxygen became unbearable. You and Joel had been pressed so close together, noses smushed as you kissed, that neither of you could even breathe.

“I take it you figured it out.” Joel’s eyes searched your face, voice rumbling from deep in his chest, the sound like velvety chocolate to your ears.

You nodded, lost for words at first and his lips slowly tilted upwards at the corners until his smile reached its limit and the precious dimple in his cheek poked through. “The flowers and notes were so beautiful, Joel. I’m sorry I didn’t figure it out sooner, your riddles were just too good,” you grinned. Tears pricked at the back of your eyes at the look of complete adoration on his handsome face. Sincere happiness welled within you. “The notes, each one more beautiful than the last, I read them over and over. I feel all of that, too.”

Joel’s eyes took on a different shine at your confession, the fire from the hearth glinted in the sudden wetness glazing over them.

“Can I take you home?” he asked gruffly, the need evident in his glossy gaze.

“Fuck yes,” you breathed, giggling as he shifted you both to your feet and practically dragged you from his brother’s house. Neither of you had the wherewithal to say goodbye to Tommy and Maria. They watched the two of you leave with matching satisfied grins before locking up behind you.

“Yours or mine?” Joel questioned urgently as his large hand grasped yours.

“I don’t care,” you replied breathlessly, “whichever is closer.”

“Yours then.” His long legs led you down the deserted street, boots crunching on the hard ground, stopping only once you reached your front porch. He stared into your wide eyes, taking in the vision of your blown pupils and pursed lips. “Are you sure about this?”

“Joel,” you drew his name out in a long sigh, one hand caressing the scruff on his cheek. “I have never been surer of anything in my entire life. Take me inside and make love to me. Please.”

The pitch of your plea shot straight to his cock as he once again nearly dragged you behind him. Grateful that you forgot to lock the front door, there were no impediments to your journey into the house and straight up the stairs to your bedroom.

The urgency slowed once the both of you reached the center of your bedroom. Facing each other as you stood next to the large bed, Joel’s gaze tangibly seared your skin with the absolute heat of it.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, one thick fingertip tracing the ridge of your brow and down the slope of your nose. His bedroom eyes captivating as he pulled at your plump bottom lip with his thumb, lips twitching when your tongue darted out to taste the salt on his skin. “I think I fell in love with you the day we met.”

“Me, too.” Mesmerized by Joel’s touch and thoughtful words, you leant forward, slanting your mouth against his. The kiss tender yet scalding hot as your hands began to slowly undress one another. Part of you could not believe this was happening, while another part of you kept repeating fucking finally.

Once you were both fully stripped of clothing, Joel eased you back onto the bed. The broadness of him hovered over you, legs entangled, and he caressed your skin with one large hand. There was no piece of you he left untouched. Your own hands were drawn to his luscious curls, fingers threading through the locks and massaging his scalp.

Joel soon replaced his hands with his mouth, placing soft, open-mouthed kisses down your body. He paid special attention to your breasts, pausing to lave and nip at the hardened peaks of your nipples. A surprised gasp flew from your mouth when he settled his face between your legs, darting his tongue out to taste your sweetness.

He feasted on you like a starving man, tongue laving at your clit before dipping inside to slurp at your juices. You were so wet for him. Only him. His mouth a form of heaven you didn’t know existed, you mewled and squirmed, muscles twitching as he drew you closer and closer to the cliff’s edge.

“Fuck, you are so good at this, Joel.” The half-moaned words fell from your lips when he slipped a thick finger inside you, quickly followed by another. His mouth continued to work at your clit, licking and sucking as you writhed beneath his ministrations.

A man possessed; Joel drew two orgasms from you before letting up. Easing back, he grinned at you, his facial hair glossy with your juices. “You taste fucking delicious. I could stay down here all night.”

A dewy sheen of sweat covered your entire body from being worked over so well. “Any other time, I wouldn’t stop you. But I want your cock inside me, right now.”

“Is that so?” Joel smirked at you, climbing up your body to settle his hips between your legs. Of their own accord, your hands soothed over the warm skin of his back and down to his ass, where you grabbed handfuls of the meaty flesh.

“Fuck, yes. Please, I need you.”

His eyes sparkled at your plea, but he didn’t move an inch. Your right hand reached between the two of you, grasping hold of his cock and gasping at the sheer size of him. Long and thick in your hand, your mouth watered at the thought of tasting him sometime. Joel grinned again, his expression quickly going slack as you tugged once, twice at his hardened length, running the head between your folds before lining him up with your entrance.

Dark eyes hooded with lust; Joel met your gaze. “You want this?” he questioned one last time, needing confirmation of your consent. The last thing he’d ever want to do is push you too far, too fast. He wanted this to last forever.

“Joel, I promise. I have never wanted someone more than I want you, and only you, right now.” You poured every emotion, every feeling for Joel through your eyes as you pulled him impossibly closer. Angling your hips up, he finally started feeding you his cock, inch by delectable inch. Your mouth dropped open at the stretch when he bottomed out.

“You’re taking me so well, pretty girl.” Joel began to move his hips in a slow, steady rhythm, his arms bracketing your head.

“Ahhh, I’ve never felt so full before. Please don’t stop.”

Soon enough, the only sounds in the room were the gentle slap of skin against skin, your breathy moans, and Joel’s rumbling grunts. Joel kissed you passionately as he fucked into you with deep thrusts, his eyes remaining locked on yours.

Your orgasm built as his cock grazed that perfect spot inside you with each thrust, and the words you’d been too afraid to admit to finally fell from your lips. “I love you, Joel. I love every single piece of the puzzle that you are.”

“And I love you, my angel,” Joel replied, voice gravelly. His hips snapped harder, throwing you both over the cliff. His deep moans were music to your ears as you pulsed around him, drawing every drop of cum from him until he settled heavily half atop you, breathless and sated.

“I can’t wait to do that again,” you blurted, chest heaving, drawing a chuckle from Joel.

“Imma need some time before I can do that again, angel. I’m not a young stud anymore.”

For the first time in many months, you fell asleep in your bed, the vastness of it decreased by Joel’s warm body cuddled up against you.

“You have everything you need, brother?” Tommy asked, helping Joel load up the saddlebags. “Maria tucked a bottle of wine and some glasses in here for you.”

Doublechecking the supplies, Joel nodded. “I think that’s all of it. Thank your wife for me. None of this would be happening right now without you, Maria, and Ellie.”

Tommy patted his older brother on the shoulder. “Being in love has really softened your edges. I actually like this version of you.”

Joel scowled back at Tommy’s teasing for a moment before his face transformed into a glowing, warm smile at the sight of you. Backpack slung over one shoulder, you wore fitted jeans, a tee shirt, and boots with Joel’s green flannel tied around your waist. To Joel, you’d never looked sexier.

“Hi boys,” you greeted, eyes lingering on the older Miller brother as he winked at you. Turning to Tommy, you batted your eye lashes. “Any chance you’ll tell me where he’s taking me?”

Tommy guffawed. “Not a chance in hell, doll. I don’t wanna get my ass kicked by this lug.”

Oh well, you had to try. Shrugging your shoulders, you climbed up into the saddle of a light brown colored horse. “Fine then. You better make sure my greenhouses are still in one piece when we get back.”

“Yeah, yeah. Off you go lovebirds.” Tommy patted your horse’s hind quarter once Joel mounted his horse and led the way through the town gate.

The horses settled into a canter, covering the landscape at a good clip. “It’s a couple hours ride, but I promise you’ll love it, angel.”

“I trust you, Joel,” you replied, lips pressed into a small smile. “I’m just happy to spend time with you.”

The pair of you chatted about anything and everything as you rode, sharing stories about your pre-outbreak past and the struggles faced since. You already knew about Sarah and how hard Joel took the loss of his beloved baby girl, but Joel felt comfortable sharing more stories of her with you. The conversations were interspersed with occasional comfortable silences as you took in the landscape and kept an eye out for trouble. The hours and miles passed in no time and Joel led you to a stop in front of a rusted-over fence. Dismounting the horse, you swiped a hand over a warped sign which indicated the property was a botanical garden in its former life.

“Joel,” you breathed, touched that he thought of taking you to such a place for your first official date. You had no idea it even existed.

“It’s rundown, obviously, but nature has completely taken over in a way that I think you’ll love. There were flowers everywhere when I first discovered the place. This is where I found some of the ones I gave you,” he explained. Pulling a section of fence open, he led you and the horses onto the property before closing it behind you.

“Tommy and I cleared the placed a while ago, but there may still be some cordyceps lingering around. Keep an eye out.” Joel handed you a pistol, checking first to make sure it was locked and loaded, and swung the rifle from his shoulder.

The grounds were quiet except for birdsong and the rustle of leaves in the breeze. Plentiful flora grew in every direction you turned, overtaking dilapidated benches and buildings alike. The grounds were a vibrant sea of colorful flowers and plants, and a mix of floral fragrances nearly overwhelmed your senses. Joel led the horses into a small area cordoned off on three sides, leaving them to graze while the two of you explored.

Joel reached for your hand, entwining your fingers as you walked the grounds. Even overgrown and unkempt as it was, the garden left you in awe. You strolled, recounting information about every flower you recognized. Joel listened, enraptured, as you spoke about their meanings, falling in love with you even more with every brilliant word that came out of your mouth.

He surprised you with a late lunch in a field of wildflowers on the way back to Jackson, gathering a small bouquet in his hands while you ate. Joel tucked a bright yellow flower with long, thin petals into your hair before handing over the bouquet.

“When you’re ready, I’m going to ask you to marry me, my beautiful wildflower.”

fin

[acetone4veins]

Do you have any Rejanis headcannons?

Not to shamelessly self promote but uhhh I wrote a rejanis oneshot that you can find here if you're interested in more of my take on their dynamic

It takes a while for them to get to a point where they're comfortable with PDA (Regina is the poster child for internalized homophobia give her time to get over it) but after a few months of dating they are so insufferable. Constantly in physical contact with each other

I don't think they're like, making out in the hallways or anything, but they're both inherently possessive and it shows in the way they wrap around each other or hold hands

They tease and bicker with each other so much. The type to casually call each other "dumbass" and "bitch" but god help anyone else who tries to talk to them like that because they are so fiercely protective of each other

This is more 24 version specific but Regina definitely takes advantage of how much taller she is than Janis and brings it up every chance she gets

Both of them tend to lash out and get defensive when they feel vulnerable, so whenever they do have serious fights they get out of hand very quickly with how volatile they are, especially early on in their relationship. But I think after they calm down they both feel so guilty about it and are quick to apologize

So much of Regina starts to bleed into Janis's art, even before they properly get together. Every time Janis goes to show Damian her most recent work he makes fun of her because "Regina, again?"

At one point Janis does an entire painting on Regina's back and turns her scars into art to convince Regina of how beautiful she is and Regina definitely cries

Janis sometimes forgets to eat when she's absorbed in her art, so Regina always drops by to bring her food and make sure she takes breaks

Janis can always tell when Regina's in pain, regardless of how much she tries to cover it up. She's scary good at reading Regina, and Regina would hate it if it didn't make her feel so loved (oh the mortifying ordeal of being known)

Janis is the only one who can pull out Regina's silly side. She's also the only one who can get her to calm down when she's pissed off about something and the same is true vice versa. They put up with so much teasing from their friends about being whipped for each other

[writingsbychlo]

UNDER THE MISTLETOE (day six)

summary; you cook dinner with vivianne, and you and azriel celebrate a joint mating anniversary with your hosts.

word count; 9638

notes; treatin' y'all good in this part, I promise.

“So, you and Azriel…”

Your hands stumbled a little in the bowl, jumping at the sounds of Vivianne’s voice as she sidled up beside you, knocking her hip into your own. She wasn’t looking at you when you turned to face her, instead just examining the bowl of mashed potatoes in your hands, and you shrugged. “Wha d’you mean?”

“I mean, that you’ve been mashing that poor bowl of potatoes for ten straight minutes now, and staring into the middle distance. You’ve missed, like, everything that I said.” She was giggling, a grimace on your face, and now that you were made aware of it, your arm was a little sore. Stopping the intensive mashing, you tested the consistency, happy to find they weren’t ruined at all, just incredibly smooth, and letting out a defeated sigh. 

You had been distracted. Kallias and Azriel were sitting in the other room, cracking open one of Kal’s best bottles of whiskey, and you’d been completely lost absorbing the feelings of happiness and amusement and hazy warmth that had been flooding down that new thread around your heart. This morning you’d woken up tangled in Azriel’s arms, your bodies pressed so tightly together you were practically one, and you’d had hardly any time to enjoy it. Despite wanting to make the absolute most of your holiday, there was no denying that you couldn't wait to get back home, and have nothing to do except lay in your new mate’s arms.

“I mean, something happened, right? After that kiss yesterday, he was even more all over you than usual. He could barely take his eyes off of you, it was adorable. He hasn’t looked any more like a lovesick little puppy than he did this morning when you told him to go and sit in the other room, and he comes to check on you every half an hour.” Your cheeks flushed with heat, and you had to bite at the inside of your cheek to hide your smile. “Not to mention, you two sort of reek of each other.”

You lost the battle with your blush, embarrassment filling you from head to two. You’d taken a bath last night, when you’d finally been able to move again, and a shower this morning, hoping to at least dampen that smell. At the look on your face, she laughed loudly, head tipping backwards.

“I mean, you’ve smelt like each other this whole trip, but you’re all over each other. This is just… stronger.”

“We’re mates.” The words burst out of you, feeling so unusual on your tongue, and her smile melted away, replaced with a look of awe instead. 

“You are? I mean, Kal and I had a suspicion, but-” She didn’t finish, cutting herself off by instead pulling you into a hug, squealing happily in your ear as she rocked you side to side. Gripping her back, you let the excitement of having told someone take over. It was exciting, it meant it was real and true, so much more tangible. Even though you hadn't completed the bond entirely, you would have very soon, not planning to let much more time pass before that bond was cemented and permanent between you both. 

“Tell me everything!”

“There’s not much to tell!” Hopping up to sit on the counter beside her, she worked to put the final touches on some of the dishes, just waiting for the gravy to come up to a boil. She wasn’t accepting that as an answer though, her brows raising, a pointed look being shot at you, and you could only chuckle. “There’s always just been this connection, you know? I just never thought we were equals, so I never expected it. This holiday, though. Lines had gotten blurred between us, we had a few almost moments, and then under the mistletoe yesterday, it snapped for me. He already knew, apparently, but…”

You shrugged, and she cooed a little, smiling to herself while sprinkling chopped herbs over some of the roasted potatoes. “He already knew? How long for?”

“I… I don’t know.” Your brows dipped with confusion, the question having entirely escaped you last night, and you tucked that little thought away into the back of your mind, a question to bring up later, when you were alone. 

“You know what this means, right?”

“What?”

“We’re practically bond-twins! We could have joint anniversary parties and everything.” She practically shook with her excitement, and you laid down from the counter, helping to transfer stuffing balls from the over tray into a neatly assembled pyramid on a plate for her. 

“What in all of Prythian and beyond is a ‘bond-twin’?”

“Y’know, like, our bond dates align and stuff!” You were positive this was something she’d just made up, gesturing to the traditional meal surrounding you both that you’d cooked up. 

She’d explained it all to you, about their first meal when they were bonded, how it was Christmastime and she cooked him a Christmas dinner, and how she likes to hand make it herself every year to remind them of that tradition. You’d been honoured to be a part of it, and so you certainly weren’t going to complain now about her creating another tradition involving you and your mate. 

Traditions were evidently Vivianne’s love language. 

Giving everything a final look over, and an approving nod, she began to stack all of the plates up on the centre island, to be taken to the table that Kallias had already prepared for you all.

“Alright, I think we’re ready. I’ll start taking some of these dishes to the table, and corral the male-folk into action. I’ll send them in to get the next dishes.” With a bowl in each hand, she disappeared with her roast potatoes and stuffing tray, and you could hear her voice bouncing along the corridors as she commanded your other halves.

She returned a moment later, Azriel and Kallias trailing behind her. Vivianne grabbed two more plates, Kallias carrying the large turkey that had been his wife’s pride and joy for the morning, and she glanced between you and Azriel. With a nod, she silently left, giving the two of you a moment, but not before shooting an exaggerated wink behind the shadowsinger’s back as the couple disappeared from sight.

Azriel cleared the kitchen in just a few large strides, coming to a stop before you and dipping down until he was brushing a soft kiss across your lips. “Hey, beautiful.”

“Hi, Az.” Your heart lurched, thumping against its cage, wanting to escape and leap right into his waiting hands. He gave another kiss, lingering and sweet, and when you pulled back, you swore he’d never looked at you quite the way he was looking at you now. His stare was filled with so much love, so much affection, the kind of look that would bring you to your knees if it wasn’t for his arms around your waist keeping you steady. 

You couldn’t wait another minute.

Twisting in his arms, you searched through the drawers all around you, breaking free from his arms for just a second as he watched you with confusion, until you could find a spoon. With a triumphant noise, you marched back over to him, swiping the bowl of potatoes on the counter and dragging them across towards you. “You should really try these potatoes.’

He only chucked, hands settling on your hips once again, his fingers tucking under the edge of your shirt to brush idle circles against your bare skin. Sparks shot throughout your body just from his simple touch. “I will, don’t worry. They look good, I’m excited about the meal.”

“No, Az.” You scooped some up, bringing them up to his lips and pressing them to his smile. “You should try them right now.” His smile soon faded, eyes widening, and he pulled back enough to stare at the spoonful, licking over his lips, throat bobbing. 

“You made these?” Before you’d even finished nodding, his mouth was closing around the spoon, letting you pull it back from between his lips empty, and he offered a shaky smile around them.  “S’really good.”

You laughed, the sound wet with emotion, and he swallowed the mouthful. Taking the spoon from your hand, he tossed it into the sink with a clang, sniffling back against the tears beginning to line his eyes. Your trembling hands came up to cup his face, feeling that final part of the bond click into place between yourselves, hardening into something unbreakable now.

“You just accepted the bond.” He whispered the word against your lips, sealing it with a kiss before you could reply, both of you breathless and emotional, but not enough to care through the desperate kisses. “You accepted our bond.”

“You bet your fine Illyrian ass I did.” You mumbled right back, reaching around him with both hands to squeeze at that same ass, and he laughed against your mouth as you did. In return, he nipped your bottom lip, kissing the bite a second later, as your hands retreated to his lower back instead, his still sitting on your cheeks. “I couldn't go any longer without it.”

“Thank the gods, I don’t think my sanity would have survived waiting until we got home, but I didn’t want to rush you.” His nose dragged over your own, Vivianne’s question about just how long he’d known flicking through your mind once again, quickly suppressed by your hunger, the smell of the food sinking in around you. “C’mon, let's go eat. You put so much work into this food, it’d be a shame to waste it just standing here.”

One more kiss, that became two, that became three, before finally his nose was dragging over your own and he was letting you go. Taking the rest of the plates in your arms, you walked side by side through to the dining room, telling Azriel all about how you’d become bond-twins with Kallias and Vivianne. 

The pair were waiting patiently, the former was carving the turkey while the latter poured wine, neither mentioning your delay in coming to the table, but both offering you a sweet smile and a nod of silent congratulations and you took a seat at the table. Azriel took a seat beside you, Kallias joining his wife on their side of the large table, and she lifted her glass, ready to propose a toast. 

“To mates, and love, and the mistletoe that brings us all together.” She smiled, your breath held, and all your glasses remained raised in the air. Silence followed, and you shifted a little in your seat. 

“That’s it. Viv is horrible at speeches.” Kallias clarified, a laugh bursting out of Azriel and a protest from Vivianne as she demanded to see him do better. Your glasses clinked together, and Kallias cleared his throat. “This dinner is not just for our mating anniversary, and for your newly acknowledged love, but to celebrate new friends. After decades of turmoil and being turned against one another, we triumph in the face of all odds. Love is our reward for our bravery, and this dinner is merely a tribute.”

“That’s why you’re a High Lord.” You teased, and Kallias beamed, his mate scowling at having been proven wrong but tapping her glass with you all once again, before you lowered it down, taking a hearty sip of your wine. Simmering just underneath your love and gratitude, was the beginning of that mating frenzy. It was kicking into place so fast, the moment he’d taken that bite and the bond connected its final seal, your body began to react. 

His arm brushed against your own as he shifted to hand both of your plates to Kallias for meat, but your eyes were on him. Taking in the shape of his side profile, the slope of his nose, the angle of his jaw, the way he’d look so fucking good between your thighs-

His hand shot out, gripping your leg under the table and rubbing his thumb access your knee. The bond in your chest felt like it was plucked, vibrating inside you with need and lust, and you took another mouthful of wine in an attempt to swallow it down. Taking back his hands to retrieve the plates, you gave a soft sigh, relief flooding your body as the heat of his touch becoming absent left cold chills along your skin, soothing you enough to be able to think clearly. 

Kallias and Vivianne were caught up in their own moment as you reached for a bowl of seasoned vegetables, everyone working in harmony to serve their dinners. Adding a generous portion of seasoned carrots to your plate, they were quickly smothered by creamy mashed potato, your head snapping up to look at Azriel as he went for another large spoonful, dolloping that onto his plate. 

“Fuel up, my love. You’re gonna’ need the energy.” He only smirked, sweeping in to press a taunting kiss to your cheek. “I’ll take some of those veggies, too.”

So much for thinking clearly.

Adding vegetables to his plate, you tried to tune back into the conversation across from you, as the Winter couple began to talk. 

Despite having left you alone for the beginning of the dinner, the moment everyone had finished their servings and were beginning to eat, Azriel’s hand was back on your thigh. One held his wine glass, sipping at the contents casually as he listened to Kallias’ story, while the other was squeezing at your knee, stroking absentmindedly. 

After only a moment or two, it moved up an inch, those sweeps of his thumb that had gone over your knee were now above, and your breathing got moderately shallower as it did. Your glass was nearly empty already, and you didn’t want to risk topping it up. You were pleasantly buzzed, any more and you’d be edging towards tipsy, and you knew your head would already be spinning as soon as Azriel got you alone, no need to make it any easier for him. 

Your name was called, almost sounding impatient, and you cleared your throat, gaze snapping from the centrepiece you’d zoned out on and glancing between the other three people at the table. Azriel’s smirk was in his eyes not his lips, his hand sliding up higher again, your cheeks warming. Kallias’ brows were raised, a hint of a smile on his lips, and Vivianne look positively impatient. 

“Huh?”

“I said, what has been your favourite part of your trip so far?” She raised her brows pointedly, and you cleared your throat, hoping your voice wouldn't break as you tried to stay calm. You were a courtier, staying calm under pressure was your main skill, and you’d be damned if Azriel was going to reduce you to a pile of stuttering, love-sick goo with a few simple touches. 

Time to play his game.

Taking Azriel’s hand in your own, you wove your fingers together, tugging them up high to sit in your lap, and running a single fingertip in a featherlight trace across his knuckles. His hand twitched in your grasp, but he didn’t pull away. “Oh, there’s been so many wonderful parts to the trip already. I liked watching the snow fall outside, just chatting, it was very peaceful.”

“Even if you almost caught hypothermia?” She teased, falling right into a trap you’d set. You watched from the corner of your eyes as Azriel’s spine stiffened a little, those overprotective, unruly mate bonds kicking in full force at the mention of even the slightest danger.

“I think a few missing fingers or toes would have been worth it for the views.” A low growl shuddered across your side of the table, despite his best efforts to suppress it. “Then again, ice skating was also fun, and I think I was definitely more likely to lose a few fingers there, turns out I’m not great at it.”

Shovelling a huge heaping of mashed potatoes into his mouth to keep himself silent, the bond in your chest hummed with what felt very much like a warning. The game had turned, Azriel might have the upper hand on physical self-control, but you knew how to tug on all those brand-new internal instincts. 

“Not like Azriel would have let either happen, though.” You finally gave him a little something, his shoulders easing slightly as you acknowledged his ability to protect. “The markets were… interesting. We learned a lot, tried some new foods, and spent way too much money.”

“That’s the thing about the markets, no matter what kind of budget you set for yourself, they always get more from you.” Vivianne sighed, her husband’s eyes rolling fondly. 

“That’s because you have no self-control with money, Viv. You bought eight teacups this year. What do we need eight new teacups for, we already have about a hundred!” 

You snickered, releasing Azriel’s hand and placing it back down on the edge of the table, before picking up your cutlery and digging into your food. “And now, we have one hundred and eight.”

“For all the tea parties you hold with one hundred and eight guests?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Kallias.” She smirked over her wine glass, turning to face him a little more fully. “We’d only have one hundred and six guests, we’d need a teacup each.”

“You are terrible.” He muttered, relenting in his argument and freeing a smile when he pinched his cheek, beaming through her victory. 

Just like that, dinner went on. 

Every time Azriel attempted to wrangle back the power, you tugged on another raw mating bond instinct, making sure to chafe it a little more, until he was so tense in his chair, or borderline squirming, before you let him relax. Eventually, he chose to keep his hands to himself, only letting the heated stares or occasional bursts of something inappropriate down the bond come across, but there was little you could do about those.

When the plates were piled high, and dessert was being debated, Azriel seemed like he was about to snap. His hands were balled into fists on his thighs, not even pretending to keep his gaze to himself as he faced you, staring longingly in your direction. 

At last, Vivianne stood, beginning to gather up the wine glasses. Your head felt like it was filled with cotton wool, throat thick with the tension, but you continued to play your best role. Standing too, you began to stack plates and cutlery, only stopping at Vivianne’s tutting. 

“Stop that, I’ll take care of it. You two go, already.”

“But we haven’t cleaned up yet!” You never wanted to be a bad guest, and you’d always been raised to help clear a table, no matter what. 

“Oh, you two are practically buzzing. Get out of here, go and have the rest of your evening together.” Azriel’s chair scarped back sharply, obviously needing no further convincing, his hand coming to sit on your lower back to guide you away. “Besides, my favourite part of the evening is watching Kallias wash up while drinking my wine.”

She winked at her mate, who only grinned back cheekily, the happy balance of a well-worn routine sparkling through. “Are you sure, we could stay, and-”

Azriel didn’t even try to hide the growling sound he made this time, stepping even closer to you, body heat even higher than normal rolling off of him in waves. The High Lord opposite you only laughed. “Stay and, what, subject us to being in the same presence as Azriel while he dresses you with his eyes some more?”

He followed his wife’s example, standing up to press a kiss on her cheek. 

“I’ve been there, I’ve been that male before. Go and put him out of his misery, my dear. We’ll be just fine here, we have traditions to uphold. I have pots to wash.”

You could only nod, offering a high-pitched ‘goodnight’ in response to their deeply amused glances, and Azriel’s hand tightened on your back as he led you from the dining room. The moment you had cleared sight and were into the empty corridors, that attitude changed, the last of his gentlemanliness slipping away, and with a surprised yelp, you were being twisted, and tossed over his shoulder. 

A second later, a harsh slap came down across your ass, and your breath rushed from you in shock. Shadows were curling around you as he did, everything going dark and your stomach twisting like you were falling, for only a moment.

Then, you really were falling, tossed onto the sheets of your bed, bouncing as Azriel stood at the end, a dark look in his eyes as he stared down at you. Your cheeks were flushed, breathless and eyes wide at the manhandling, and he smirked as your thighs clenched together. 

“You really would have made me wait, huh?” Tugging his shirt up and over his head, the pop-buttons under his wings snapped open in a flurry at his movements, toeing off his shoes to match, before he was crawling up the bed over the top of you. Your giggles faded out when his nose was tapping your own, his eyes a blazing inferno of passion and excitement. 

“A little patience wouldn't kill you, spymaster. Patience is a virtue, after all.”

That only made him smirk. There is nothing virtuous about what I will be doing to you tonight.” His wings flared, his head dropping to leave a bite on your covered shoulder, and your arms shook where you held yourself up. “Since you were so willing to make me wait, and to tease me all through dinner, I think it’s your turn now. Let’s see how long you can take it for.”

Grabbing you by the front of your shirt, he tugged you back up, following his body until he was divesting you of your top, bra following to the pile of clothes on the floor, and your arms looped around his neck. Skin to skin, he was so hot that you could have mistaken Winter for Summer, his hands setting fire to you everywhere they touched as he smoothed them down t your hips. Tugging them down roughly, your body jerked in his grasp, until the bundles for fabric were stripped down over your ass, scraping your skin in the most delicious way, and baring you to the elements. 

Tossing you back onto the bed with one kiss to your lips, he stripped the clothes the rest of the way off you, humming in pride at having you so bare before him, spread out on the bed like his own personal feast. He palmed himself through his jeans, constricting and stiff but doing little to hide the prominent bulge on the front, a wet patch of his arousal already beginning to soak through. 

At the sight of it, you bit your lip, and Azriel only smirked. Popping the button and undoing the zipper, he slipped a hand into his boxers. Pumping himself through the restrictive fabric, he left you untouched, letting your thighs rub together to find any kind of relief. 

“No, no, no. I have been rock-hard and desperate for you for hours. I couldn't touch myself, what makes you think you get to?” 

With a single tilt of his head, black bands of shadows were wrapping around your leg, your begging for mercy cut off as another looped over your mouth, thighs yanked apart and hips bucking, no relief to be had now. You gasped against the misty ribbon at your mouth, eyes finding his own, playing your final card as you sent nothing but desperation down that bond. 

It seemed to strike a match, adoration raging in his eyes as he looked at you. “You need me, baby?”

You could only nod, rolling your body down, anything, you needed anything, and he dragged one scarred finger down the centre of your stomach. 

“I suppose I could give you a little.” His tone was condescending, like he was doing you a favour as he slipped one finger into you, sinking all the way to the first knuckle as your slickness made it all so easy, and yet it somehow felt enough. Your back arched, a happy shudder racking through your body as he pumped it in languid, uneven bursts. 

He was searching, learning, every spot he brushed that would make you jump and twitch, all the ones that made you cry out behind the cuff at your mouth. He was too good, too fast, that one digit already bringing you spiralling towards bliss, your stomach knotting as you writhed on the bed. Dropping to his knees, he pulled his finger out, your whines barely passing your lips before it was replaced with his tongue, and when you screamed, there was nothing blocking it this time. 

His name bounced off of the walls in an endless circuit, his restraint having burnt up entirely, and he lapped at your core like you were his final meal. He alternated between fucking his tongue into you and teasing your clit, your mind bending with every touch, hanging on the precipice of something more, so close you could taste it in your mouth, and-

And he stopped, that traitorous bond connecting you both telling him just where you were, and a shamefully embarrassing cry left you as he pulled away, to nip and suck marks into your inner thighs instead. Your hands loosened in the bedsheets, knuckles aching from the grip you had, and an acute kind of pain zipped up your spine at the feelings that had been stolen from you. 

“Told you, my love, you have to wait.”

“Azriel, I want to cum!” You thrashed a hand weakly into the mattress, your evident frustration only getting you another binding, that hand pressed back down into the mattress by another horde of shadows, and you bit your tongue from spewing out curses.

It would do little good, because despite anything you might say, he was all but watching the juices drip from between your parted thighs as he lifted your legs to dangle a knee over each shoulder. “I’m sure you do, love. But I’m far too happy watching you right here to allow that. Your pretty pussy is begging for me already, clenching around nothing, but if I were to just-”

He slipped a finger back into you, relief palpable in the air as you gripped him as best you could, muscles clenching, the pad going right to that spot that made you moan his name, and he smirked. 

“Just like that, and you’re all needy for me all over again. Now why would I want to let you cum, when you weep so beautifully for me when I don’t?”

Leaning in, he sucked gently at your clit, lapping and rolling the bud with his tongue, matching every pace between his finger and mouth perfectly. “Azriel…”

You were nearing that place again, that release hanging just out of reach, out of touch, and you could do nothing. Your hands were held, you were pinned to the bed, shaking under his touch as he used you for his own enjoyment, and you’d be damned to admit how much you loved it.

As soon the climax was ripped away from you again, a loud shout of frustration left your lips, his response was merely a laugh, muffled by your thighs as he kissed away along the inside of each, never touching where you wanted. Blowing a cool hiss of cold air over you, your complaints and weak threats became nothing but a whimper, squirming in his hold as he wrapped an arm around each leg to hold you still. 

“You may be the calm and collected diplomat, but I'm the wicked torturer baby.” Licking a single stripe up the centre of your core, your hips arched up and off of the bed, following the wet touch as he flattened his tongue over your throbbing clit, before pulling away again. “You wanted to play to your strengths, now I’m going to play to mine.

Over and over again, Azriel dragged you to the brink, until you were gasping back tears of frustration, hours seeming to go by as he teased you but never gave you what you needed.

You’d lost your dignity, lost your strength as he dove back in, your body far too sensitive from what felt like hours of teasing. You were pushed to the point of tears, the air thick around you as you gulped in lungfuls of air on a hoarse throat, trying not to sob as your fingers scratched at bedsheets you worried you’d tear right through by the end of the night.

“Please, Azriel… Please, mate, please, let me cum…”

His growl at your words shot through you, his tongue buried inside of you flicking at the word ‘mate’ and he pulled back, pressing his finger down your clit harshly, licking at the juices that had flowed from around his lips. “Say that again.”

“Mate, mate, mate!”

He bit lightly at your clit, the graze of teeth so sudden and harsh that your body jumped from the sheets. He didn’t hold you back this time, your body crashing through a release so powerful that you felt like you blacked out. Your body seized, legs kicking out, and he continued to tease you through it until the sensations were far too much, the stimulation so overwhelming you had to fight your way up the bed to escape them, and when he finally let you go, you seemed to descend from Heaven itself. 

He didn’t let you get far, crawling onto the bed after disposing of his jeans, the night was far from over yet already, and he wiped his shining cheeks against the back of his wrist. Kissing his way up your body, over tender muscles and twitching limbs, he found your lips with his, the taste of you flooding your mouth as he kissed you deeply. 

He gave you a moment, a reprieve, filled with whispered praises and his lips on your body, leaving a mark everywhere that he could reach as you gathered yourself once again, pulling all the shattered parts back into one fragile body.

“You… godsdamn, Az. Who would have thought you’d be so mean in bed?” You teased, one hand flying over your face to cover your eyes, and he kissed along your forearm, to your palm, before linking your fingers and pulling away from your face. 

“That’s what happens when you tease me. Remember that, for the future.” He pecked the tip of your nose, your lips, and your chin, before settling himself into the cradle of your thighs. “Now that you’ve learned your lesson, though, you’ll learn just how kind I can be in bed, too.”

“Oh, more of that in store, is there?” Your legs hitched up around his waist, his chuckle light as he leaned in once again, noses bumping together. 

“So much more. I can’t get enough of you.” Shadows were dancing across your bodies, learning you just as well as he did, tickling at sensitive spots and soothing bites with cool touches, as he used everything at his disposal to blow your mind. “How do you feel?”

“I feel fantastic. How do you feel, you’re the one who’s holding yourself back?” Tugging him closer with the cross of your ankles at his lower back, you rocked your hips across his length, coating him in your juices, and he dropped his head down to groan.

“I feel like I want to fuck you, now. I’ve been waiting far too fucking long to take this anymore.”

“So do it.” He kissed you, shifting his body until he was lined up with your entrance, lips going slack against your own when the head dipped in.

Easing himself into you, he took his time, no rush as his hands kept your own pinned down to the mattress, eyes locked together, as he sank in. When his hips were sitting snuggly against your own, he smiled, another sweet kiss taken from your lips, his stray curls brushing your forehead as he leaned over you. 

He built his pace, piece by piece until he was pounding into you with reckless abandon.

“How did I get so lucky?” He mumbled, pulling back out and dragging along every inch, just to fuck back into you, knocking the breath from your lungs. “How did I get so lucky as to have you?”

It didn’t make sense, how such romantic words could come pouring from his mouth as he fucked you like there was no tomorrow, his hips colliding with your own enough to send the sound reverberating around the room, your cunt dripping around him, leaving more mess. You could only whimper, nudging your lips up into his for a messy kiss, and making sure to send everything you felt out to him, too fucked out to speak but you could feel it all. 

“Gods, you’re so- fuck.” Another harsh thrust, one that had your moaning cut short, eyes rolling. There was no space between your bodies as you tried to roll to meet him, to get more, but he seemed to understand.

Azriel pushed your knees up, barely slipping from you for even a second before he was plunging back into your core, your thighs pressed to your chest as he watched where he entered you. Your back arched, a raw scream tearing from your lips as he dove right back into a brutal pace. 

Slamming into you, over and over again as you writhed against the bedding, feeling that taut pulling that connected you both between your chests, every sensation he was feeling reaching you in equal measure, a violent storm of shared ecstasy crashing between your bodies. You could barely feel the bedding, your trembling legs, the chill in the room across your sweat-slicked skin, as an orgasm like no other began to coil in your lower stomach. 

“Az, Az, Az…” His voice was a chant, a plea, a prayer as you stared up at him. He looked like some kind of god, his head hanging back, golden skin shining with exertion and muscles flexing with every ragged breath he took. His skin was flushed, and when he pulled his head back forwards, your name spilling between those parted lips, you couldn't take it anymore. With a strength you didn’t know you still had left, you reached for that bond, tugging on it until his body fell forward over you, like you’d pulled a rope around his neck. 

Catching himself, just barely, on one muscle-corded forearm, he growled at your abuse of that thread, biting your lower lip roughly between his teeth and pulling, but you didn’t care. You needed him, needed him close, needed to feel every inch of him pressed up to you as he worked. Just like this was what you needed, the friction of his chest against your nippled as he continued to fuck into you, pounding towards another orgasm as your toes curled and nails scraped lines into his back by his wings, it was just what you’d wanted. 

“Oh, fuck! I’m- I’m-” Your words bite off towards the end of your sentence in a scream, your back leaving the bed entirely until you were pressed flush to him, barely breathing as your world exploded. You spasmed, body jerking through the thick of your peak as Azriel never slowed, never let up, pace growing uncoordinated and messy as he followed you right over that cliff, never ceasing in his shouts of your name. 

When it had finally become too much, his arms shaking too much to hold himself up anymore, he fell down against you, gasping breaths into his body as his lips hovered by your ears. Your tremors were contained by his weight, your legs still locked tightly around his waist, arms gripping to his back, whimpers still spilling from your lips as the aftermath of a climax like you’d never had before still wrought havoc on your body. 

His fingers traced your arm softly, mumbling something you couldn't make out as you twitched against him, his cum leaking out from between your still-connected bodies as he shifted weakly. 

“Holy shit, baby. That was fucking incredible.”

“Wish I could take some credit but that was all you.” You panted your way through the sentence, his equally breathless laugh washing across your body as he tucked his face into your neck. 

He shifted, moving to lay at your side, and he left a loving kiss on your shoulder as he did. Propping his head up with an elbow in the bed, he leaned over you, spreading his hand out over your stomach and stroking softly, until you turned to look at him. He held your gaze, a smile pulling at the edges of his lips, like he was controlling your own as you matched it. 

“I wish we’d been doing that since the moment we’d met. How long have we wasted, not knowing…”

“We have the rest of our lives to make up for it.”

“Maybe so, but that doesn't make every other orgasm I’ve ever had before this seem like an utter waste of time in comparison.” Feeding his ego was like throwing meat to a wild animal, his smile growing wicked as he leaned over you, lips parting to catch yours in a filthy kiss, growling like a beast to match as he did. 

You didn’t wait, not for a second, to lace your fingers into his hair and hold him closer, legs crooking and flames sparking excitedly along your body as he teased his way into your mouth.

Azriel licked his way across your tongue, another flaming burst of heat sending your arousal spilling across your thighs, already slick from your first around, and you slide your hand down his chest. Grazing a nail across one of his firm nipples, a broken moan leaves him, your nails scratching lines down across his chest, defined abs, until reaching your destination. 

The head of his cock bumped the back of your hand, bobbing at the impact and already leaking once again, angry and red and hard, the mating frenzy making itself known. The second your fingers wrapped around his slicked shaft, your arousal and his, his hips bucked into your hand and he groaned into your mouth. 

Your grip tightened, pumping slowly, teasing enough that he fucked up into your fist just to get some relief, lips pressed together but no longer kissing. “Baby, don’t fuckin’ tease me right now. I’m aching for you, don’t do this.”

“Big words for someone who was so willing to edge me to the point of tears not long ago.” You let go entirely, tracing one finger under the head of his cock until he whined, before dipping down further. One finger traced across his sensitive sac, and his hand on your hip gripped so hard you swore the bruise might never leave, his whole body stiffening. 

As he moved to roll back over you, your hand shot up again, flat on his chest and pushing until he was sprawled on his back, shadows exploding out from around him like a stone tossed into a pool. Golden eyes went wide as he watched you climb into his lap, calloused hands fumbled to reach for you as you lined him up, before slipping easily back onto his cock, and sinking to sit fully in his lap. 

His head pressed back into the pillow behind his head, so hard the veins in his neck strained, and your plant your hand on his bared chest for leverage. Your fingertips left crescent moons on his chest, bouncing atop him and slowly building a rhythm on already unsteady legs. The last orgasm was still washing through your body, lingering effects that had yet to go away, and yet you couldn't wait any longer, every instinct in your body screaming to be connected to him once again. 

Propping himself up on his forearms to watch, Azriel licked slowly over his lower lip, watching the bounce of your tits before his face, the clamp of your thighs around his hips, the place where your body took his so wonderfully with every roll of your hips. His hands came up, wrapping around your hips to hold your body to his. “Fuck, sweetheart…”

“I know, I know.” You picked up the pace, breathless and exhausted but the flame inside of you demanded more, and you couldn't possibly bring yourself to fight the fire. You only wanted to stoke it. “Gods, Az, you feel so good…”

“Me? You’re perfect up there, such a good girl, making us both feel so good.” Dragging his body up some more, he took one bouncing nipple lightly between his teeth, a squeal on your lips as one hand flew to grip at his hair, tugging when his tongue smoothed over the bud, sucking lightly. “Taking what you want, looking so good while doing it. You’re my perfect little mess, leaking all my cum, screaming for my cock, such a pretty sight all fucked out.”

“Azriel!” Your hips slammed down into his, words going to your head and making every other thought clear out, until nothing but the raspy words were bouncing around inside, his praise encouraging you to work harder. 

“C’mon, baby. Come for me. Let me help you.” His mouth twitched to the other breast, his hand sliding down your stomach until he could thumb at your clit, and stars burst out in colourful bursts behind your eyes as they crossed. “Good job, squeezin’ me so tight, feelin’ so fuckin’ good.”

His words slurred together with bliss, your body jerking in his hold. His thumb kept spinning his lazy circles as his other arm banded around your waist, holding you down onto his cock. When he fell back, he took you with him, using your own method against you and yanking on that bond until you tumbled down with him. Planting his feet on the bed, he snapped. 

Fucking up into you needily, your jaw hung open, silenced by the force of the pleasure cascading through you. Every cell was alight, every nerve electrified. He gripped your ass in one hand to hold you steady, the other sliding up to your neck to hold you in place, and the utter helplessness was intoxicating as you surrendered to the man who controlled you.

“Yes, yes, yes, Az!” 

He grunted, your hands trying to roll back as best as you could to meet him thrust for thrust, your body preparing to give way as you had nothing left to give. “Fuck, I’m so close…” At his statement, you leaned in, brushing your nose over his and letting your lips tease over his. 

“Come for me, mate.”

A yell left his lips as that word tossed him over the brink, and when he came again, his hot spurts coating your core, you felt the last of your sanity melt. He kissed you through it, your lips meshing together as best you could as your bodies rocked together until you had no energy left to give. 

Laying spent atop his chest, your vision was practically spotting around the edge as you struggled even to breathe, lungs bursting with each pull of air. Your body slipped from atop him and down onto the bed beside him, to lay half across one wing as he let you go, both of you too tired to even care. 

You didn’t know if stable thought and sound mind would ever come back to you, and if you’d ever have the strength to move from these sheets again.

You’d already suspected Azriel would be good in bed, it had been the terribly personal discussion of many girls’ nights between you, Mor, Feyre and Nesta, but now you had the proof to back it up. Not only did he meet all of those claims, he excelled in every single one, leaving the bar you’d set so far behind in the dust that you couldn't even see it. 

Twisting your head to Azriel after finally catching your breath, you found him already looking at you. His head was nestled in your pillow, his chest still rising and falling quicker than usual, and he reached his hand out, brushing a finger over your temple and behind your ear to clear away a damp strand of hair. 

The wetness between your thighs was beginning to grow sticky, the sweat cooling on your skin was making you cold, and the weariness in your bones was making you tired, but you still didn’t want to move, to leave this bubble the two of you had entered. 

“Az?” Your voice was a whisper, feeling like anything more would shatter the moment, and his lips flickered at the edges, running that finger across your face some more, tracing the bridge of your nose now.

“Yes?” His voice was a whisper too, hoarse from the evening’s activities, and you shuffled closer pathetically, trying not to let the mess between your thighs spread to the sheets. 

“I love you.”

His smile grew, red rising on his cheeks, and his head rolled back to the side. His eyes closed, retracting his hand to sling it over his face, and you giggled a little at his response. “Can you say it again?”

“I love you.”

He hummed happily, a tidal wave of happiness finding you from him, and your own eyes closed at the feel of it. Moments passed, silence enveloping you both as sleep threatened to draw you under. When you felt his side of the bed dip, your eyes cracked open, watching him roll onto shaky legs and wander away towards the bathroom, perky ass still bearing the nail marks you’d dug into it, and you bit your lip to hide your chuckle. 

He returned moments later, a damp cloth in hand, kneeling at the edge of the bed and tugging you towards him by one ankle. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I made a mess of you, I get to clean you up.” Your legs fell apart, too tired to protest at all, but you couldn't look at him as he did so, head falling back onto the bed to stare up at the ceiling. He traced the cold cloth up the insides of your thighs first, gathering his release that had already spilled out, and goosebumps followed in its wake. 

“You don’t get to clean me up, you have to. It’s not an honour to wipe up cum.”

A loud, gravelly laugh burst from him, fingers trembling between your legs as he began to gently wipe your folds clean of both your juices, leaning down to press a kiss to both bent knees. “It is an honour, but when you say it like that, it sounds gross. It’s an honour to get to care for you, to have the privilege of making a mess to clean up, to have you trust me to intimately and fully. To let me see every part of you. Mind, body, and soul.”

“Only you could make aftercare so romantic, Az.” You sighed, cupping a hand over your eyes as a weak laugh followed, and his pride was palpable in the room even without the bond. He wiped himself down as he walked away, swiping his pyjamas from where they’d fallen from your bed to the floor in such a hurry, and pulling on the bottoms. 

With the top, however, he lifted you up, wrapping it over your neck and helping you to guide an arm into each hole. He got himself resituated on the bed, under the covers this time, tugging the blankets out from under your body and holding his arm up, welcoming you into his chest. “C’mere, already.”

You didn’t need to be told twice, dragging tired limbs across the mattress until you were wrapped up in him, his arm, the blanket, and a wing on top of it all, nose to nose on the same pillow. He took advantage of that proximity, leaning in to kiss you through a smile. 

It felt surreal, to possibly ever feel this happy, to have found something you’d always dreamed of, with the man you never thought you could have. If only you hadn't wasted so much time putting yourself down. 

That thought sent something from the back of your mind crashing back to the front, and you pulled back from him by an inch with a gasp. His lips were still puckered when his eyes fluttered open, filled with confusion. “I have a question, something I was talking about with Viv before!”

“We just finished having mindblowing sex, your legs are practically still shaking, I was kissing you, and you’re thinking about someone else? I’m kinda’ offended, that was some of my best work.” You scoffed, wanting to deny his claims, but like a traitor, your right leg gave a sudden spasm, as if to emphasise his point. “If you’re not careful, I’m going to get possessive.”

“Going to get possessive?” You teased, and he shrugged.

“I could be so much worse, baby. I was well-behaved tonight, just you wait.” You reached a hand down to steady your twitching leg, and Azriel watched with a smirk, waiting for your question, despite his complaints.

“It was something she said about you, so, I am thinking about you!”

“Well, that’s much better then. Proceed.” Your eyes rolled at him, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the tip of your nose, followed by a nip, and your face scrunched up a little. “You already knew about our bond, why didn’t you say anything? How long did you know?”

His jaw dropped a little, obviously not expecting something like that, and before he could even think about turning away, you settled a hand on his cheek, fingers tracing his face reassuringly as you smiled. 

He paused, seeming to think it through, a blush spreading across his face under your fingertips, and embarrassment crawled across the bridge between your hearts. You met it with unyielding support and affection, a soft puff of breath leaving him. 

“I wanted you to fall in love with me organically, if you were going to fall in love with me at all. I knew I’d never be content knowing that you might only be with me for the bond, and if we were going to have a relationship, I wanted it to be because you wanted me.” He rolled his lower lip between his teeth, obviously not finished, and the blush darkened. “You’ve known me for so long, you’ve meant so much more to me than I could have possibly begun to understand for decades, but it wasn’t until… recently that I put those feelings into perspective.”

“Recently?”

“I began to understand what they meant.” You didn’t miss the way he avoided the second part of your question again, but he was getting something off of his chest, and you needed to hear it all. “I realised you weren't just my best friend, you were so much more to me. Not long after I realised my true feelings did the bond click for me. But, you’ve known me. You knew how much I let that desire control me, to do stupid, selfish things. I couldn't let you think it would be just about that. If I was going to win your heart, you had to be able to trust it was for me, not just the bond.”

“My heart is yours, Azriel. It was for a long time before I discovered the bond, you just never knew. You know now, right?”

“I do, and I don’t intend to ever give it back.”

Your smiles matched one another, the light in the room now only provided by the dying flames of the fireplace, the two of you keeping one another warm, tucked in together. Finally, it was time to ask again, “How long?”

Azriel’s gaze dropped from your own, and he took your hands in his instead, raising them up to kiss your knuckles. 

“How long, Az?”

“Don’t be mad.” Your eyes narrowed a little at his fragile whisper, barely audible words, and under the weight of your stare, he slumped, a confession rising. “Almost four years.”

Your inhale was so sudden you choked on it, spluttering a little as the air got trapped in your throat, and his alarmed gaze snapped back to you. “Four years?”

“Are you mad?” his grip on your hands tightened, and as you regained control of your breathing, he winced. “You seem mad.”

“No, Azriel, I’m not mad. I’m heartbroken.” His face fell, concern morphing to despair, and you shook your hands free from his, clutching his face in both now. “Heartbroken for you. You’ve known for four years, and you’ve just suffered with that?”

You were reeling, guilt eating you alive, stomach twisting as a replay of the last four years of your life spinning through your mind. 

“I’ve been on dates in the last four years. I’ve- oh, Gods.” You’d been on dates, you’d been on more than just dates, all unsuccessful and pitiful, and it was Azriel’s arms you’d fallen into to complain about them all, to seek comfort. He only shrugged now, reclaiming your hands with his and resting his forehead against your own. 

“I know, but it made you happy.”

“Az, you’re breaking my heart right now.”

He only shook his head, wrapping you up tighter in his hold. “Love, if you never fell for me, I’d have happily stayed friends with you for our entire lives. Just because I was in love with you, didn’t mean you’d love me back. The bond is special, but love is more so. It doesn’t guarantee mutual feelings. Having you in my life at all was always enough for me.”

You were shocked, guilt and adoration waging a war inside of you, and your eyes closed to block in tears that were threatening to break free. You didn’t know if they were from sadness or joy. “Four years, Az…”

“It’s nothing. Compared to how long we’ll live, it-”

“Don’t! Don’t pretend like that.” Your voice cracked, giving way to the emotions overwhelming you, and a sad sound left Azriel in response. He nuzzled a little closer, until your lips were brushing with every word you spoke: “Just because we live so long doesn’t make time any less precious. Four years is a long time, Az. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know why it didn’t snap sooner for me.”

Your lip wobbled, and he steadied it with a kiss, desperate for understanding and needy for comfort, and you could barely bring yourself to kiss back you were so shaken. When a sob left you instead, he shushed you quietly, rolling over you until your back was pressed into the mattress, and he was kissing away every tear, every spot on your face, until a wet laugh was finally pulled from you. 

“Please, my love. Please, don’t cry.” A final kiss, salty and wet, to your lips. “I’m happy it took so long. I got the pleasure of watching you fall in love with me, under no influence. I got to watch every smile that was something more, every blush I drew from you, every compliment you took to heart. I got to watch you fall in love with me, and it was the best thing that I ever did.”

“You’re killin’ me, Az.” 

“I got to feel the moment that you knew for certain I was the one you wanted forever. It made it all so worth it. I’d have waited four hundred years for you if that’s what it took. I’d have waited forever, and if it never came, I’d have spent my life going on vacations and stealing cuddles, or curling up in the library on cold nights to read together.” He leaned in, leaving another kiss on your lips, and you managed to return it this time, looping your arms around his neck to hold him close. “Do not cry for me, because I’m not sad or scorned. I’m so godsdamned happy. I’ve never been happier.”

He sent a flood of that happiness to you to emphasise his point, your eyes watering again, and this time you knew exactly which emotion had brought it on. “I love you.”

“I know.” He murmured, tugging you back into his chest as you cried again, letting you bury your wet face in his neck. 

“I love you, Azriel.”

“I love you too. My beautiful mate.” Rolling onto his side again, you clung onto him, the mere thought of letting him go sending a surge of ice-cold dread down your spine. Any distance at all felt tragic, your body trembling as you finally let go of so many locked-up emotions, so much overwhelming love for him, his hand smoothing over your hair, another tucked under your shirt to trace your spine soothingly. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

“I love you. So freakin’ much.”

“I feel it.” He tugged on that bond, your chest warming at the intensity of it, heart beating hard in reply. 

“I love you. I love you.” Pulling back, you found his cheeks wet too when you pulled back, his eyes a little puffy, silently joining you in the tears, and offering a shaky smile. You pressed a kiss to his lips, frantic and quick, a series of them to follow. “I love you. Don’t ever forget it.”

He met you kiss for kiss, urgent in the dark as such a heavy burden was lifted from his chest and yours. “How could I possibly forget, when your love is the thing I treasure the most?”

[pavlovianfuckery]

i have abandonment issues and anxiety and now so do you

just my brain going "but what if dream is a complete banana lady about time because he values it differently from everybody else and gets absorbed in his work and fucks off for months on end like a big fucking idiot, what then?"

also he is so very pretty when he cries and i wanted another go at writing some quick stair sex, fucking sue me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i was so sleep deprived when writing this and it shows but what can you do

It's been weeks since you slept unaided, the use of pills keeping any dreams at bay, so when you finally enter the Dreaming only to find yourself in the throne room of all places, it gives you pause. Everything looks much the same as you remember. When you finally lay eyes on the aloof figure on the throne it feels like being kicked in the chest, which is less unexpected. You had imagined what it would be like to see him again many times, but nothing you had planned to say comes out, the words turning to ash in your mouth.

"Leave us." His gaze is fixed on you as he orders everyone out, and it feels as if an eternity passes between the closing of the massive doors and him speaking to you. "Do you know why I have brought you here?" Just hearing his voice again is painful, but you refuse to let it show, squaring your shoulders but not meeting his eyes, not bothering to keep your tone civil.

"I do not presume to know why you would do anything, so no, I don't." The glibness doesn't seem to amuse him, and he steps down from the throne. "That is not quite true, is it?" His voice is flat as he approaches you unhurriedly, step by inexorable step.   "If accusing me of being a liar is all you dragged me here for, I'm just going to go." You turn to go, to wake up, to be anywhere but here, but he calls out to you. "Stop." You were planning on leaving, and yet. And yet.

"Why?" You whirl around, facing him. It's a struggle to keep your voice from cracking, but you manage it, somehow. "You don't want me here." He frowns, moving closer until he's only a few paces away. "I assure you, that is not true, despite your lack of loyalty." "What in the world is that even supposed to mean?" Now you can't keep the anger out of your voice, "Since when have I ever been disloyal to you?" "Since you abandoned me to cavort with a mortal." The words are full of contempt, and it almost makes you physically recoil. "I abandoned you?" It comes out as a disbelieving laugh, more callous than you had intended. "No, you left, without so much as a word. I didn't hear from you for 6 months! I don't know if you had gotten bored of me or what, but you were gone."

"Bored?" His frown deepens. "There were matters of great import that required my attention." "Of course there were."  You had always been painfully aware of your own unimportance to a being like him right from the start but nevertheless, his words still hurt. "What did you expect me to do then, spend the rest of my life waiting for you? I didn't even know if you were coming back at all."

"You certainly wasted no time before giving yourself to another." "Did you miss the part where you up and left me for months? Not that it's any of your business anymore but yes, I slept with someone else, to try and get over you forgetting me!" "I did not forget you." Somehow, the words make it worse. "Yeah? Because that's what it looked like." Your eyes sting and you wipe at them angrily.

He's frozen, unmoving at the bottom of the steps. Bathed in the soft light from the stained glass windows he reminds you of a marble statue. Beautiful. Cold. It cuts at you like a knife until you can't stand to look at him any longer, and you turn to leave again. The way his fingers snag your wrist takes you by surprise, not expecting him to reach out. "Wait." "I did." You yank your arm back, but he grabs hold. The touch is gentle, but it might as well have been a firebrand. "Let. Go." For all their vehemence the words feel like a lie on your tongue, and as you glare at him it's obvious that he doesn't believe them either because his grip only tightens. The way he looks at you hurts, it burns and something inside your chest just shatters.

The slap is loud in the empty room, neither of you expecting it. Even though your palm tingles from the open-handed strike there isn't a mark on him of course, but that doesn't make you feel any better. When he pulls you to him, most of the fight drains out of you. "You don't get to do this, you know," you punch his chest weakly, just once as the first tears start to fall. "You can't just dump me by the wayside when you get tired of me, I'm not your fucking pet." "No, perhaps not. But do not doubt this; you are mine."

Despite everything, the close proximity has the same effect as it always has, as if he'd never left. As he tightens his arms around you his familiar scent envelops you, making your head swim. You're not sure what possesses you to brush your lips against his throat, but you do it anyway, despite your every sense screaming at you that it's a bad idea. "Forgive me." For a moment you're sure that he'll send you away, that you'll wake up alone in your bed again and the thought makes it hard to breathe. But then his fingers ghost over your cheek, brushing your tears away before guiding your mouth to his. The kiss is a brief, unspeakably tender thing, over much too quickly. Brows knitted together in something like confusion his eyes are heavy on you, searching your face. "What is there to forgive? If I had known..."

You don't wait for him to finish speaking, pulling him back down by the lapels of his coat. His lips are as soft against yours as they've ever been as you pry them open, like it would be possible to push every shred of angerpaingrief into him that way. As if he could somehow understand your hurt if only you could force him to taste it. And he lets you, even as you nip at him until you taste blood, like bright copper pennies caught in your teeth. Lack of air makes your head spin but you can't stop clinging to him as if he'd turn to smoke under your hands, to slip between your fingers to be gone by morning. "Don't leave me like that again..."

You breathe the words into him like a prayer until your knees go weak, and even then he holds you to him still, not letting go. The descent onto the stairs is a gradual one, made clumsy by the reluctance to let go for even a second. Straddling his lap is a graceless affair, but you're beyond caring.  Feeling the fabric of his coat under you is a bit unsettling, the way it cushions your knees from the unyielding stone beneath a bit too well to be quite real. It makes you feel as if you could fall into the sky of the lining of it if you're not careful. "You are aware of my responsibilities; I can offer you no such promises."  That hurts to hear more than you would like to admit, but then he continues, "I can however endeavour to inform you when my work requires my full attention."

It's not quite an apology, but it's as close to one as you're likely to ever get and still more than you dared hope for.  As the hem of his shirt rides up exposing the skin there, the urge to be closer is overpowering. "I have missed you." The way he says it is quiet but fond, the words soft enough to rival the feel of his skin under your questing hands.

Wanting to lay any claim on him that you can you suck at the sensitive skin on the side of his neck, which surprisingly does leave a mark, one that doesn't fade. When the realization dawns that he's doing that, he's keeping it there on purpose for you, lust pools molten in your belly. Repeating the action on the other side makes him groan, the sound vibrating against your lips as he tips his head back and grinds his hips up against you, giving you all the permission you need.

The bruises bloom nearly instantly, another one of his tricks, offered up almost like a gift. They dapple the flawless column of his throat prettily, but it's still not enough. The seams creak in protest as you pull the collar of his shirt down to get at more of him, but he doesn't seem to mind.  After being apart for so long, suddenly having him this close when you thought you never would again is overwhelming and you're unable to hold back a few errant tears.  "Do you have any idea what it was like with you gone?" Giving his hair a pull, you force him to look at you. 

He wets his lips before responding, an uncharacteristically human gesture. "It was never my intention to cause you harm." The tremble in his voice is barely perceptible but still undeniably there.

His lips yield to yours so easily when you kiss him again, pressing the heel of your hand against his fly. "Help me forget?" As you breathe the words into his mouth you can feel him pulse through the fabric. "Please?"

Even with his hands aiding yours it's easier than it should have been to pull his jeans down, the stiff material offering next to no resistance, a convenience courtesy of the Dreaming. Rather than removing them completely, you push them only as far down as is necessary.

His cock is just as pretty as the rest of him, you'd almost forgotten that. The skin is silky in your palm as you give him a few slow pumps, just as a reminder of what he feels like.  "Let me see you." His words make the rest of your clothing fade away like morning mist leaving you completely exposed on his lap, another perk of his realm that you had missed. The way he touches you borders on worshipful as he presses a soft kiss over your heart, gentle as a butterfly wing.

Sinking down on him slowly is difficult when you're aching like this, but you want to savour it. For now, he simply leans back and watches as your body swallows every inch of him. The way he fills you so perfectly is intoxicating, addictive. It feels like coming home. For a while you don't move, just enjoying holding him inside like this, buried to the hilt as you squeeze around him. The intimacy of it is almost unbearable, nearly making you choke up again as he gently grabs hold of your hips and guides you into a languid pace.

"Tell me he didn't make you feel like this." The words are quiet, almost pleading, his eyes shining as he looks up at you. You had thought something like that wouldn't matter to a being like him, but his fragile expression tells you otherwise. "I need to hear you say it," he gasps, the stars in his eyes finally falling. Seeing him like this nearly breaks your heart all over again. As you kiss his face with all the tenderness you can muster, moisture stains your lips, making him seem remarkably human in that moment. "You know he didn't," you fail to keep your voice steady as you stroke his hair. "He wasn't you."

The way his chest hitches does nothing to douse the desire burning its way through you, not the way it perhaps should have done. He's so lovely like this, all dishevelled, cheeks shining. It's wholly unexpected, the vulnerability of it all, making the tension in your core coil tighter. The salt of his tears burning on the tip of your tongue makes you feel like consuming enough of him in any way you can would somehow erase your stupid mistake. As if he could fill you up until there would be room for nothing else, and he would push the memory of it out of you. 

"Please come in me," you roll your hips, pleading. "I need you to."

That you would ask for it so bluntly makes him let out a desperate little sound and thrust up into you ineffectually, the bunched-up fabric around his knees making it close to impossible to gain any proper traction on the smooth stone steps. He grasps your hips more firmly, spurring you on. "Move for me." It's still a fairly leisurely pace, neither of you so much chasing release as letting it arrive in its own time.  Pleasure washing over you in gentle waves makes your thighs quake as it brings you close to your peak before pulling away, time and time again.

The squelching noises as you ride his cock are embarrassingly loud in the empty hall, but you're beyond caring about anything except that you get to have him like this again. One of his hands moves to where you are joined, clever fingers circling your clit, not directly touching you yet.  "You make such a sweet mess of me, my love."He murmurs, voice strained as he continues, "I've missed that." The words alone are nearly enough to put you right back on that precipice, making you pull on his hair with a frustrated little whine. "Morpheus, please." At that, he goes completely still, his grip like iron as he holds you in place. You can feel his cock straining inside of you, nearly spilling but not quite. "Plead with me like that," he chokes out, cheeks high with colour, "and you will receive me sooner than you might hope."

Being the one to make his composure falter has never failed to drive you wild and this time is no different. Seeing him like this after your time apart, balancing on that edge right along with you, is very nearly enough to bring you off. Furrowing his brow he bites his bottom lip, fighting to keep his control from slipping, and you realize that you're going to come regardless of if he moves or not. It's like a tidal wave on the horizon, the pull relentless long before it arrives.

"I'm going to," you struggle to get the words out, "fuck, I'm..." The way his eyes bore into yours is almost hypnotic, drawing you in. "Go on," he breathes, egging you on, "come for me." Then he flexes inside of you and with a whimper, you're lost, walls spasming around his cock. There is no way to ride the wave of pleasure and nowhere to hide from it, the only thing you can do is slump bonelessly on his lap and let it wash over you, because he isn't letting you move. He's only a few seconds behind you though, pushing in as far as he can go and emptying himself there with a strangled sound, as if he really could wash every trace of the other man's touch out of you that way.

Spent, he rests his head against your shoulder, stroking his hands down your back soothingly as his come starts seeping out of you. For a while you simply stay like that, holding each other close.  Now that you're thinking more clearly reality starts to set in, and you can't help but dread waking up. Because in your heart of hearts, you know that you will wake up alone, no matter what just happened. It hits you like a sledgehammer to the chest and without meaning to, you start to tremble.

Realizing with rising horror that this might just be A dream and not your Dream, you do the only thing you can think of; you flee back to the waking world.

[gaykarstaagforever]

FREE ON YOUTUBE

...YouTube, I feel like your free animated movie recommendations have declined in quality a bit since the halcyon days of Osmosis Jones.

Yes, it is a blatant Kung Fu Panda knockoff, with an American voice cast that is clearly whoever was home at 11 am the week they called.

This is bad. Like, unfinished, I think I'm missing like half the movie, they forgot to resolve the main plot and it just stops, bad. There is a scene where the only character on screen suffers an animation error, and no one fixed it. The framerate of the movie drops every time the action picks up or the camera swings around too fast. Like...you made a computer-animated movie, and you don't have the hardware or time to do...you know...computer animation? The stones on the Chinese producers of this mess.

Not everything has to be Pixar or DreamWorks. CG is hard. I get it. But you gotta work to your strengths. In this case, the computers you are using can't even render the movie properly. Like...I don't know how you get around that. That's kind of a major issue.

Technical incompetence aside, this suffers from the usual bad CG animation problems of every character looking like they come from a different artistic universe, and most of the action is generic mocaping that doesn't take into account how any real bodies shaped like these bodies would move. And there are just things they didn't bother capturing. Like none of these dough monsters ever stands up on screen.

Shot composition is a disaster. Most scenes are a mob of creatures standing in a pack in an empty space, doing exaggerated facial reactions to someone else talking. It's like bad machinima made in the Skylanders games engine, except all of the character designs are way worse.

The plot, such as they attempted it, is supposed to be about a small, incompetent warrior who looks like Jackie Chan who gets transported to the mystical realm of Merryland by a magical jade necklace his grandfather gave him. There, he transforms into an anthropomorphic panda, for reasons that are never explained. There is a prophecy that a Panda Warrior is destined to save the realm, and our guy is apparently it, except there is a flashback to like a couple of years ago when the ultimate evil took over, and...there is ANOTHER Panda Warrior who was just there and sort of stopped it? But then didn't? Who the hell was that guy?!

Also the ultimate evil is one of the two sky-whales who guard the Dragon Ball (yes, literally) just turning evil because it absorbed too much power. Why did this happen? How are you going to stop it from happening again? Then that whale turns into a nine-headed snake after an evil mouse from the real world just...is there, and merges with the Whale. After the snake is defeated the mouse just crawls out of it and runs away, and no one says a damn thing.

Our panda warrior and his 7 legendary warrior friends kung fu fight the snake at least 3 different times, and never get close to stopping it. And the panda doesn't do anything special or lead them, he is just there, and then at the very end his necklace glows and that...helps? Somehow? The true hero here is, and I'm not joking, Jimmy Ginseng, a tiny ginseng man with an erhu who shows up whenever the warriors are losing, plays the erhu, the enemy gets soothed by the song, and then Jimmy gets tired and leaves. EVERY BATTLE ends like this, including the final one.

So...?

The panda has that cool green sword in the picture. And he does have it. It is just...a sword, thst someone randomly gives him. I think he ends up dropping it and it never comes up again.

Also all the warriors are animals, except for the one who is a talking tree stump...filled with lava. And he dies at the end by setting himself and the snake on fire. Because his master, a purple fox, told him to do that to save everyone. ...Except the SNAKE SURVIVED IT, and they had to fight it again, lose, and wait for Jimmy to show up.

The bull character also sacrifices himself, TWICE, to save everyone else, and both times that doesn't work, either.

The movie ends with Merryland being restored from the devastation of the snake...BEFORE the snake is defeated. It just...gets better, after they resuce an elf girl princess who does...something...? And then the regrown flowers shoot the snake with missiles of some kind. Which ALSO fails to defeat it.

The panda doesn't go home and become human again and nothing is explained. But during the credits there is a fight scene between the little human warrior and his general, in which they get drunk and wrestle and tons of fight animations repeat in a loop for 3 minutes. Is this part of the movie? Are these outtakes? What does this have to do with anything? If this is what happens after he got home, I don't know why or what it means.

...My guess is that the first panda warrior we see was supposed to be his grandfather, as a panda? That was probably the idea? But no one ever says that. The movie doesn't remember to explain that.

This was translated from Chinese. Perhaps the translation is terrible. Or they did a massive reedit of this for the US release. That could explain some of this. ...But then why didn't they cut out the glitch scene, or some of the shots with the bad framerate? There are literal 10 second sequences in this movie where there is no dialogue or music, just a camera sleeping over a scenery to ambient nature sounds. Who reedits a movie for the foreign market and cuts out vital plot scenes, but leaves in shit like that?

...Unless all those vital plot scenes had even worse technical problems. Jesus. That's a terrifying thought.

One positive here. While nearly all of the voice work is as boring and bored as you'd expect, the immortal Tom Kenny is good, with what very little he is given to do, here. The man is a professional.

And here is the weirdest thing: Rob Schneider is really good here as the panda man and Jimmy Ginseng. Like, shockingly good. Like, this is without exaggeration the best performances of this man's miserable life. He is funny, charming, nuanced, he feels like he is reacting properly during what were probably one-sided conversations recorded on different days in different places. It is shocking how good he is in this awful, stupid movie. My only guess is that he was somehow involved in bringing this over and it was going to serve as an audition piece to get him more voice work. In which case, like, fair enough, dude. You nailed it. He is genuinely very good in this very bad movie.

What an odd artifact from 2012. What a waste of time. Why did YouTube recommend this? What do any of us gain from being shown this? I am just flabbergasted.

You're on time out with these movie suggestions, Google.

Also there is a pig who flies who looks like this:

Those aren't ears, they are just gross misshapen tendrils that bob around as she moves. It's like someone was playing with a stretch tool and then...stopped.

I was gonna end with "Now let's have Jimmy Ginseng play us out," but I can only find this one bad picture of him, and it doesn't show his erhu:

Here is some nice erhu music from someone else. Something redeeming in this godforsaken post:

[tonowaritrash]

Touch starved, inexperienced young!Tonowari being a moaning mess while a older experienced reader teaches him how to pleasure his mate🤤

Like hes expected to be looking for a mate but baby is a virgin and wants to know how to please a woman before he mates😩 so he seeks the help of one of his mentors

now i’m just filled with thoughts of reader corrupting young wari but that’s not what was asked for lmao

pairing: tonowari x reader

tags: inexperienced tonowari, older reader, younger tonowari, p in v sex,

minors dni

after a long day of successful fishing, the shade of your marui offered a welcome coolness from the heat outside. eywa had blessed the reef with a bounty that would feed the clan for two days at least and everyone was overjoyed.

you, however, were glad to be inside. it wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy fishing, in fact you loved it. you loved the anticipation, loved the thrill of feeling something big tug at your line and the satisfaction of your hard work paying off. you loved it so much that you were considered a master fisherman and you taught the older youth complicated techniques to catching more dangerous fish. fish that were used in healing or rituals that were difficult to come by.

they loved you, so much so that your students often sought you out outside of lessons to chat and ask for guidance about their lives. it wasn’t uncommon for them to even ask about matters of the heart, despite the fact that you weren’t mated. they called yours a “neutral perspective”.

not that you were unmated unwillingly. quite the opposite. suitors had clamoured at your home during your younger years but you turned them away. yes, you had others in your bed often but they understood this. fishing was your true love. and sharing that love with the up and coming youth was an opportunity you relished.

your favourite among them was the olo’eyktan’s son, tonowari. at barely 23 he had proven himself time and time again in your classes that he was a worthy fisherman, enough to replace you.

he was bright eyed and eager to absorb information. often after your lessons the two of you would talk about things he worried about. about his grievances, his worries, his struggles, things he felt as though he couldn’t tell his father. you listened and offered advice as best you could.

it was a shame that eywa had other plans for him. once he would become olo’eyktan he would have less time to go fishing. you felt it a huge loss for the clan, but it was out of your hands.

your musings were interrupted by the rustle of chimes at your entrance and you turned to see the very man you’d been thinking about. it wasn’t uncommon for him to visit you in your marui it normally it was arranged beforehand so you were more than a bit confused.

you immediately knew that something was off. he was a bit more distracted than usual, shifting his weight from foot to foot. his blue eyes avoid your own gaze and you could swear he took in a shaky breath.

was he…nervous?

“can i come in? i need to ask you about something.”

snapping out of your musings immediately you motioned for him to enter your marui. “of course, of course! come on in. i wasn’t expecting company today though.”

“sorry,” he apologised, entering. he was tall enough that he needed to duck his head at the entry point . you never quite got over how large he was even among metkayina men.

he took his place at your bed and immediately you fussed about the marui hoping that you could scrounge up something for him to eat. “good job fishing out there today, by the way,” you said, filling the strange silence. “if you get any better i might have to consider changing specialties.”

he chuckled. “you flatter me.”

“i mean it. i don’t think there’s anything left for me to teach you — aha!” your hands grabbed a bowl of nuts that your friend had foraged from the forest a few days prior.

you brought them to him and placed the bowl on a makeshift table. your kind words seemed to relax him a bit as he immediately grabbed one and ate it, the crunch resonating in the marui.

“that’s what i came to talk to you about,” tonowari said. you looked at him quizzically and he avoided your gaze. “i need to ask for your help with something. outside of fishing.”

you sat down at this, giving him your utmost attention.

“as you know i need to find a mate. as olo’eyktan there needs to be someone at my side.”

you nodded. “there are plenty of good women in village. i know some capable fishers i could introduce you to. oteri in particular is quite strong, and she has a kind heart. but if she isn’t to your liking, well,” you placed your hand on his shoulder in reassurance, “i’ll ask around. i have plenty of friends who are mentoring others.”

you felt him stiffen under your touch and moved to pull away but he stopped you. “that’s not…thank you but finding women is not the problem.”

you frowned at this. “i wasn’t aware that you’d already found someone. you’d like to woo her, then.” you thought for a moment. “there’s a cave up a cliff that has glowing flowers that i once—”

“i haven’t found anyone yet. i can’t even consider looking for someone if i cannot—” his jaw tightened and you watched his fist clench.

“tonowari…” you prodded gently.

he sighed and leaned forward. “i’ve been training to become olo’eyktan for as long as i can remember and i never really had time for myself. i don’t know how to please a woman. i’d like to learn so that when i do find someone that i don’t make a fool of myself when the time comes.”

oh…

oh.

“have you even kissed anyone?”

once again he avoided your gaze but the reddening of his ears gave away that he was inexperienced in everything.

you could hardly believe it. tonowari was handsome, kind and completely dedicated to the clan, all traits that any woman would kill for in a mate. that he had never even been kissed completely confused you.

“nobody knows,” he muttered. “it’s never come up, but i think everyone just assumes…” he trailed off and sighed. “i would be mortified if a girl found out and told everyone else.”

that still didn’t answer the one question that plagued you at that moment. “so why did you come to me?” you asked slowly.

“i want you to teach me. i can’t go to any of my friends because they like gossiping and, well, i trust you.”

you heart stopped at those words. you were fond of tonowari, yes, and the two of you were close. but your admiration was always that of a teacher.

yet, now, as he looked at you with his eyes —his big, blue, innocent eyes — you couldn’t help but think just how adorable he was.

younger men were not your type as they were usually cocky and obnoxious, but you’d grown close to tonowari the last three years. and if he’d come to you about this issue, if you were the only one he could truly trust with something so sensitive and personal…

“how could i refuse?”

he blinked at you, clearly not expecting that answer. “you…what?”

“it would be my honour to guide the future olo’eyktan in this area.”

again he blinked, but then he stood up abruptly and cleared his throat. “thank you for graciously accepting to help me in this way. where do we start?”

-0O0-

there was a grotto in the cliffs that you’d brought him to a few days later. your marui wasn’t exactly safe as you had various apprentices and friends who would pop in uninvited during the day for a chat.

the pools of the grotto itself were filled with various fish and plants that glimmered in the dim light. they startled as you walked passed them and headed to deeper inside while holding tonowari’s hand.

finally you got to a nook where grass and various plants were growing. they too glowed and offered a little light as you turned to look at tonowari but it was far too dim for you to read his expression well.

you cupped his face and he sighed as leaned into the warmth of your touch, as though your hand were a magnet. you placed your other hand onto his chest and glcould feel the nervous quickness with which it beat. again, you couldn’t help but feel he was incredibly adorable.

“calm down, it’s just us here.”

your voice was soft and gentle and he seemed to respond to it immediately as he loosened his tense shoulders. you trailed the hand that had cupped his cheek down to his arm and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“how do you feel?”

“nice. your hands i mean,” his voice shook slightly and he cleared his throat. “they feel…nice. good actually.”

you chuckled at his sincerity. “i’m the first woman touching the future olo’eyktan in this way, i gather?”

he nodded and swallowed. “can i…kiss you?”

“that’s why we’re here,” you pointed out. “go ahead.”

“right. okay. right.”

his boyish innocence endeared you tremendously. gone was the self-assured young man who led his peers, replaced with a boy who only wanted to please women but was too nervous to truly know how.

he leaned down and connected his lips to yours as he hesitantly grabbed your hips. it was certainly…a kiss. with too much of everything in his hastiness to please.

“wait,” you said softly, nudging his chest.

he pulled away from you looked at you with doe eyes, the same eyes he gave you when you were teaching him something new. never in a million years did you imagine he’d use them on you in this context.

“you don’t want to…overwhelm your partner,” you said softly. “it’s not a sprint. you want to tease them.”

“tease?”

you nodded as you moved your face closer to his. “it’s all about anticipation. it’s all well and good to go right to business but the journey is half the fun. make them want it more. make them want you more.”

you were speaking lowly and you lips brushed against his as you talked. he was transfixed on them and he moved forward slightly to connect them again but you pulled away slightly.

“teasing can do wonders,” you whispered as you faintly traced his hip with your fingers. “when used correctly it can make your partner a helpless, whimpering mess. all they’ll want is you. they’ll whine and beg for you because you’ll be all they’ll want. all they’ll need.” you traced your hand softly above his incredibly hard and clothed member, causing him to moan slightly.

you smirked. “anticipation is a powerful tool. that’s lesson number one.”

you kissed him and he melted into it immediately, wrapping his arms around you. this time you set the pace, tongue softly swiping at his lips. he moaned and allowed entry, absolutely breathless as you gently traced and tasted him.

“i need—” he said between kisses.

“what, sweet boy?” you asked softly.

“i need…what you did just now…your hand,” he gasped as you kissed his neck and closed your eyes. “touch me. don’t stop touching me.”

you laughed slightly but obliged, letting your hand softly graze his clothed cock. his hips jerked immediately at the touch and he bit his lip.

“do you touch yourself there?” you asked softly.

he nodded softly and swallowed. “not often though…no privacy.” he gasped again when you applied a bit more pressure.

you tutted. “sit for me, sweet boy.”

he sat on the soft ground and you knelt next to him before taking off his loin cloth. his cock sprung out, absolutely leaking precum which you touched tentatively. he moaned at this.

“your body is so responsive,” you cooed. “so eager to be touched.”

he nodded and you skirted a fingertip across the length. his breath hitched as you fondled his heavy balls and rubbed two fingers along his slit.

“you’re close,” you whispered in awe. “did kissing me excite you that much?”

you didn’t wait for answer as you rubbed along his length again, applying more pressure. his head fell back as his thighs tensed.

you straddled him, kissing him once again and felt him grab your hips like his life depended on it. when you separated you guided his head down to one of your breasts and he looked at you questioningly. you could die from his innocence.

“suckle on it. the nipples can be very sensitive for some women.”

he gave a tentative suck and you guided his hand to cup your breast as you explored your chest with his tongue. you wrapped your hand loosely around his cock and pumped it as he suckled which made him fall into you a little bit.

“it feels so good,” he panted.

“that’s the idea.”

you rubbed his cock a bit more, slowly and gently as you watched him try to concentrate on your nipples. it was cute how his eyebrows furrowed as he tensed up. you noted how he bit his lips softly, and the way his own movements stuttered in response to your ministrations.

you guided his hand to your most intimate of parts and watched as his expression changed to wonder when he felt how wet you were under your clothes. a chuckle left your lips and it took everything in your power not to kiss his cheek or forehead in response, lest he found it condescending.

“what’s this?”

“natural lubricant,” you said. “when a woman is incredibly aroused she makes it. some more than others. and when you put fingers inside her, it feels just as good as when i touch your cock.”

he raised his eyebrow but tentatively pushed two inside. you bit your lip at how thick his fingers were and had to swallow a gasp. the last person you’d had in your bed was too long ago now and the way tonowari’s fingers stretched you made you quiver softly. they were thick and powerful.

“like this?” he asked.

you swallowed. “yeah, move them in and out, rub along the walls.”

tonowari did as you instructed and this time you couldn’t hold in the moan which made him watch you in awe. his blue eyes traced along your face as he studied your expression as though taking a mental note of every twitch.

“when you do this i want you to imagine that it’s your cock instead of your fingers,” you said shakily.

“fuck,” he muttered as you bounced on his fingers. you felt his cock twitch against your stomach and you smiled as his expression turned to pure need. “touch me.”

again you touched him gently, using the copious amount of precum as lube as he closed his eyes.

he moaned and thrusted his hips every so often, panting and gasping. “i need you.”

you slowed your hands and watched him bite his lip, chest heaving as his head fell back, his hips thrusting pathetically. he was so close and you’d barely touched him.

you seized your movements and lined up his cock with your entrance. he bit his lip in anticipation and you slowly took him in. he filled you up deliciously, stretching you more than any man had before. you panted as you bottomed out and leaned over.

tonowari was a mess, hips thrusting involuntarily and lip swollen from how much he bit it. it was beautiful how much you’d ruined him.

slowly you began to move and his hips met your thrusts immediately, quickening the pace.

“wari, wait—”

“oh eywa,” he gasped, eyes shut tight but miraculously he listened to you. his hips seized but his thighs trembled under you. “i’m so close.”

you watched a tear trail down his face as he fought every urge to fuck into you. his desperation aroused way more than you thought possible and you kissed him softly.

“hold on, sweet boy,” you said softly. “wanna savour how you feel inside me, okay?”

he whimpered but nodded which made you smile softly.

his hips thrusted involuntarily a few times as you warmed his cock and hugged it inside you. he touched you everywhere he could while he waited obediently and you knew he was hanging on by a thread.

“need you,” he said. “please let me come.”

you thought for a moment as you regarded his panting mouth and heavy lidded eyes. the expression was something you wish you could savour for far longer but you knew it would be far too cruel for the inexperienced man.

you gave a single nod and his hips sprang into action, fucking into you relentlessly. there was no rhythm, as he’d been on edge for ages so when you let him take control and move you so that you were under him he pumped into you with wild abandon.

he moaned your name, a sound that shot straight to your clit. you’d wanted to tell him to fall into some kind of rhythm but his cock rubbed into your walls so perfectly that you could barely think.

the sounds of skin slapping skin reverberated throughout the grotto, your pants echoed and sweat rolled down tonowari’s beautiful face as he gave i in to the pleasure completely.

you had just enough sense to grab one of his hands and guided it to your clit, prompting him to rub it. your back arched immediately at the sensation and you pulled him down into you. tonowari let out a soft growl. it was a sound that you found that you deeply enjoyed and it didn’t take long for an orgasm to rip through you.

it was almost unexpected, and if you were being honest with yourself you had thought you wouldn’t come that evening at all, but you saw stars as a white heat tore through you. you trembled slightly as tonowari continued to rub your clit and your body jerked and spasmed. he watched in wonder and your fluttering walls only spurned him in even more as his hips snapped into you at a punishing pace.

finally he gave two hard thrusts and came inside you with soft moan, coating your walls. he continued to moan as he fucked you through his orgasm, and the cum got pushed out from the amount he’d made.

finally he pulled out and lay down next to you, panting from the exertion. while he caught his breath you took a moment to regard him and trace his face with your fingers.

“wow,” he muttered softly.

you giggled and kissed his cheek. “you did well. i’m impressed. truly.”

he laughed with you and grabbed the hand that you were using to touch him when you started to pull away.

“i think i’ll need a supplementary lesson,” he said. “to apply what i’ve learned.”

you raised an eyebrow. “i’m sure i can make that work.”

[balkanradfem]

How not to over-water your plants

So, firstly, if you're new to plants, you might be wondering, well what is so bad about over watering? After all, they're plants aren't they? Don't they need water to survive? The more the merrier? And to you I say, good point, here's why it can work with plants outside, but not plants in little pots inside.

Have you ever left a piece of organic matter in the water? Like, a leaf, or even a flower in a flower vase. If you left it in for a week, it develops a bad smell, and the leaves, stems and roots will start to degrade, ferment, and rot in the water. That's exactly what's happening to the roots of your houseplants if they're left in an overly-wet soil; they don't have any access to oxygen, and they rot. Outside, the soil is constantly draining the water further down, the earth is capable of absorbing a lot of water while leaving the topsoil pleasantly damp, but not liquid with water. So you need to make sure your soil is never so wet that it rots your plants roots; if it comes to that, your plant will start turning brown or black, become squishy and spongy, and eventually rot completely.

So how do you avoid it? You'll often hear advice about 'having good drainage', which means your pot needs to have little holes for the water to come out, and the soil shouldn't be so dense and clayish that it would stop water from draining through. However, even if you have perfect drainage, you can still pour in so much water that the little tray under the pot is filled with water – thus the plants sit in water again, rotting. It's difficult to see whether the soil is saturated with water too, sometimes the top of the soil can seem completely dry and you don't see if it's all the way dry or not, it can be misleading. You also can't just stick to a watering schedule because the soil dries out at different speed, based on humidity, heating, temperature, season, exposure to sunlight, it will be different every time. So how can you get around this problem?

The solution I found works perfectly is: lift the pot. As soon as you feel the weight of the pot in your hands, you'll be able to tell whether that thing is heavy as if it's filled with water, or if it's so light that there's barely any water in it. If your pot is super heavy and feels like you just lifted a bucket of water, leave it be, do not water it for a week, until it becomes a normal weight (it should feel like one third of it is water). If your pot is so light, that it feels like nothing is in it at all, then you need to water enough to fill that entire tray underneath, and then let the soil absorb the water for a while. If the soil is super dry, it becomes hydrophobic, and it will take time for it to start absorbing water again; but don't worry, if you leave it sitting in water overnight, it should be fine again, and the plants won't start to rot after just one day of sitting water. A normal watering should be just one third of the container of the plant, that should saturate the soil so it's damp, but not dripping with water.

A further step you can take to make sure your plants are happy with the amount of water, is to research the plants themselves, and how they like to be watered. Most plants will do well on having their soil pleasantly damp, but some houseplants like to have their soil dry out completely before they get a good amount of water again; for instance, lemon trees like that feeling of being dried completely, and then being watered generously, because they're used to growing in tropical areas, and going through droughts and rainfall. Some plants are capable of taking moisture from the air, but they still love having a good amount of water in the pot. Nothing will give you better insight than researching every plant separately.

So what about succulents? You may have been told that you can ignore succulents and they'll be fine, however I found this not to be true, after my poor neglected succulent died due to non watering. You can't even use the trick of lifting the pot, if you're having succulents and aloe vera, because those plants keep water inside of their bodies, so if you lift the pot, it might be heavy, not because it's filled with water, but because the plants themselves are heavier, keeping water inside of themselves. They absolutely need water too, there's just a difference in how long they can do without it. But we're not trying to give those plants endurance tests, we're trying to make sure they're happy and thriving. So how to know when to water your succulents or aloe vera?

The solution is: you try to see if they're squishy. A succulent happily filled with water, will be firm and sturdy to touch. If your succulent is starting to dry, and is now spending the water they have in their inside store, they'll become squishy! If you lightly press with your fingers on the leaf, or the stem of a succulent, and it gives way and squishes, that means the plant needs more water in order to be happy. The squishiness starts closer to the base and the stem of the plant, so if you can check the widest, most base leafs, you'll get the best idea of whether they need water or not. Also, if you see any leaves on them that are dried, brown, dying away, you can pull these off! Your plants are only burdened by keeping dead plant matter on, if you pull those off the plant will immediately look healthier, have less to worry about, and be ready to grow new healthy leaves.

Any big plant can generally survive longer without water than a smaller plant, simply because they are able to store water inside of themselves, so they have some reserve. You always have to keep a closer eye on your tiniest little plants, and your giant plants will need your attention less frequently. Another tip is to have your plants somewhere you see them every day, because if your plant is somewhere you have to specifically go to see it and water it, it is likely you'll forget about its existence until it's too late. Even writing this I remembered I had some plants on a window that I don't usually use, and I've forgot to water them for two weeks. Oops. (they're fine I watered them now).

I hope these tricks help you have confidence in caring for your plants! It took me a while to figure it out, so I'm happy to share my knowledge. If you know more tricks please write them on this post so that I may become smarter too.

[separatist-apologist]

Never Not Mine

Summary: Elain Archeron has been betrothed to the seventh born son of Autumn for as long as she can remember. With her family's reputation in the balance, Elain is resigned to her fate.

That doesn't mean she has to like it…or that she has to make it easy for him.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3| Read on AO3

Elain knew she’d gotten Ayla into some trouble. For a month, her friend had been locked away in her family's chambers and when she returned, Elain noticed she winced every time she sat down. 

You’re making a mess of everything, she thought morosely when Ayla wouldn’t make eye contact with her at all. Arina had retreated back into the library, leaving Elain to return to her overrun garden. She’d begun sketching it out crudely in a journal, trying to map out where things would go so she wasn’t planting blind. 

Elain’s garden was the only place she felt true peace anymore. Spending time around Lucien was beginning to feel unbearable—something hot built in her throat if they were around each other too long, spilling into angry words that she couldn’t take back. Elain didn’t know why she couldn’t just be nicer or why the sight of him frustrated her the way it did.

Lucien had given her another gift just that morning—a pretty set of pearl combs she’d thanked him for before tossing them into a drawer that was increasingly becoming dedicated to the things he purchased for her. Lucien was trying, in his way. Everything he gave her was thoughtful and generous—Elain loved the simple elegance of pearls set into silver combs. 

They weren’t good for gardening, at any rate—that was what she told herself as she tied a scarf around her head and headed out, prepared for another long day of ripping out weeds until she couldn’t take the seeping cold. She wasn’t alone today. There, hanging around the gates, stood Tanwen.

“Come to help?” she asked, certain he wasn’t there for any particular reason. 

“Why not,” he replied, opening the iron for her before following just behind. “What do you need from me?”

“You could rip up that tree?” she suggested, pointing toward a sapling that was more weed than anything. “Or loosen up the soil with your magic?”

“Why not both?” he replied with a lopsided smile. For a while they worked in silence, digging up a pile of weeds they tossed in the center of the garden alongside all Elain’s ruined rocks. It was nice to have Tanwen there, if only to provide a little muscle when she didn’t want to exert herself so much. 

“So,” Tanwen began when the skies began to darken and a gloomy fog started to roll over the hillside from the cursed forest. “Have you seen Ayla?”

It took Elain a moment to absorb his words. “I see her, but I don’t speak to her. I think she’s angry with me.”

“Ah,” Tanwen said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I should take these to the stables, if you’ll…excuse me.”

Elain watched him go, hair blowing in a vicious wind. Was he asking because he’d been the one to carry her in, or because he wanted to hear more about her? Elain couldn’t be sure. It was wrong to meddle when she’d already been the cause of Ayla’s suffering and yet…

“Lucien,” Elain breathed later that night, greeting her husband sitting in a chair in the bedroom, book in hand. His eyes found her nails, caked with dirt and cracked again. Lucien’s mouth drew into a deep frown, though he said nothing.

Smart, she praised silently.

“Wife,” he replied, as if reminding her of exactly what she was to him. Elain knew they were on borrowed time—at some point she was going to have to get over herself and have sex with him. How long, she wondered? Another month, perhaps? Two? Lucien didn’t want her unwilling, but Elain couldn’t imagine a scenario in which she went to him gladly, either. 

“We never had a celebration,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed once she was done with her hands.

“Why would we?” he replied, turning the page of his book without looking at her.

“Why wouldn’t we? Everyone else gets one.”

Lucien glanced up. “You want to celebrate wedded bliss?” he questioned. 

Truthfully, no. It would require the two of them to be together all night, touching and dancing and smiling. Elain took a breath. “Yes, I want that. Will you ask your mother to organize it?”

Lucien stared long and hard, as if he could read her thoughts simply by willing it. Elain was careful to leave herself casual, though it did no good.

“What are you up to?”

“Nothing,” she replied, heart picking up speed. “I just…think it’s strange we haven’t.”

Lucien took a breath. “Does this mean I can expect you to crawl into bed with me that night?”

“I get in bed with you every night,” she snapped, immediately annoyed. Elain didn’t bother mentioning that they were getting a little too accustomed to sleeping beside each other. She’d woken in the middle of the night to find Lucien’s arm flung over her stomach as he drooled into a pillow. 

“You keep your night clothes on.”

They were in dangerous territory. “What are you demanding of me?”

Lucien ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I’m demanding nothing. You’re the one who wants to celebrate our marriage and I…” And he was simply a male. He wanted the right to touch her and perhaps considered this a good negotiation point. 

“Don’t host it, then,” Elain said, turning back to the bathroom as a means to escape him. She slammed the door behind her, back against the wood as she listened for his response.

“Cauldron boil me,” he mumbled, but Lucien did nothing else. Even after Elain took a long bath, hoping he might find some other way to amuse himself, but when she came out, hair freshly braided and mostly dried, Lucien was already in bed. He seemed asleep, back facing her as it rose and fell in a steady, fluid motion. He’d pulled his hair out of the strap he’d been wearing, allowing it to cascade over his shoulders and Elain considered, not for the first time, what it might be like to let him touch her. To be curtained with the waterfall of auburn hair, to feel the muscles of his back shift as he moved…

Touch him, a little voice whispered. Elain panicked, drawing her fingers into a fist before sliding them under her body to keep her from doing so. What was wrong with her? The urge had come from nowhere, the instinct to run her finger down the length of his spine so overwhelming that Elain’s hands shook from the effort it took not to touch him.

It was his closeness, she decided as she settled into bed. His male presence and her instinctual response. Nothing more. Still, it took Elain a long time to sleep as a familiar vision crowded behind her vision.

Go away, she demanded. She didn’t want another image of Lucien’s naked form writhing atop her as her mind forced her to contend with what might be if she just gave in. He didn’t want her and Elain would be damned if she made the first move. Or second…or hundredth, actually. She woke a little before him, dressed herself, and made her way down to breakfast before Lucien could speak to her at all.

So she was surprised when the Lady of Autumn came to her, face beaming with joy. “I heard you wanted a celebration,” she said in that sweet voice of hers. The voices in the room fell to a near whisper as everyone listened in, the excitement in the room palpable. 

“I would,” Elain said, wanting so badly to be the daughter The Lady of Autumn—Amera—wanted her to be. She saw the way Amera fawned over Arina, who allowed it with glowing cheeks and shiny eyes. Elain bet Arina let Amera throw her a party the morning after, even if she spent the night torturing Eris with a knife.

Elain didn’t want to think about the implications there. 

Amera clapped pale, delicate hands together. “Oh, how lovely. It’ll take a bit of time to put together…would you like to help?”

“Yes,” Elain breathed, forgetting why she wanted to do this in the first place. Her own mother could be cold, calculated and careful. There had never been much warmth even for her favorites, and Elain often felt intimidated around her mother. Amera exuded the kind of warmth she’d often wished for as a child. If Amera had asked her to commit a murder, Elain was certain she would have picked up a sword and marched beneath the Lady of Autumn’s banner. 

Not that Elain knew how to use a weapon. Perhaps Tanwen could teach her.

Or your husband.

“Should we get started?” Amera asked.

Elain couldn’t suppress her grin. “Nothing would delight me more.”

LUCIEN:

“How do you stand it?” Lucien demanded, interrupting Eris and Cadmus in their private parlor. 

“Looking at you?” Eris replied dryly, eyes flicking up from his cards. “I manage.”

Lucien growled, earning a laugh from Conall across the room. He sat on a sofa, the picture of bored nobility while Tanwen tossed a knife up in the air. They were hiding from Beron, who had woken up in a foul mood. It was only a matter of time before he came looking for his sons.

Better to make themselves scarce and wait for the storm to pass. 

“You’re very funny,” Lucien said flatly, pulling up a chair to sit with his brothers. “I mean with mother. How do you stand her fawning over Arina?”

Eris’s brows knit together. “I rather like it.”

Of fucking course he did. 

“Gets her out of your hair, does it?” Tanwen taunted, clearly bored and looking for sport. 

“Her mother is dead,” Eris snarled, eyes flashing dangerously. It hadn’t been more than a year since the bond had snapped and Lucien didn’t think Eris would ever stop chafing beneath it. Even a whisper of insult toward Arina was enough to set his teeth to snapping. 

“Elain is planning a celebration,” Lucien informed his brothers, sinking further into his chair as he swiped a decanter of whiskey from the ornately carved table. “All mother speaks of is how sweet and lovely Elain is.”

“She is sweet,” Connall goaded. “If she were my—”

“That’s enough!” Eris barked, unwilling to mop up blood. “She would never be your wife because that would require you to be a male with honor…which you are decidedly not.”

Tanwen chuckled as Cadmus only nodded, eyes flicking from Eris to a scowling Connall. Would Cadmus break them up? That was his usual role in moments like these. 

“I don’t have a wife because Elain and Arina electrocuted the only good option left to us. How is little Ayla doing these days?”

Lucien looked up at the ceiling, wondering why he bothered to talk to his brothers at all.

“She’s well,” was all Eris said, laying his cards down with a triumphant smile. Lucien, having the benefit of standing behind Cadmus, cracked a half smile knowing that Eris was outmatched. A scowl darkened Eris’s face as Cadmus chuckled, pulling coins toward his already sizable pile.

No one could outsmart Cadmus in a game of cards.

“If you’re so bothered by your wife, why not remove her from court?” Cadmus finally said, glancing over his shoulder. “Send her to the Mountain Palace, or the Seaside Palace, if you must. Send some of the ladies from court to keep her company.”

The room had suddenly become frosty, the temperature dropping by several degrees. Lucien could feel all of his brothers glaring at him, their disapproval plain. She’d won them over just as surely as she’d stolen his mother and Lucien was jealous. Elain had simply come in and charmed everyone while he’d been trying to win the approval of his family presumably from the day he’d been born.

His brothers acted as if they knew something about him he did not—he was kept just out of reach, tolerated but not one of them. They shared some secret language Lucien did not speak. It didn’t help that Lucien was also a century younger than his next oldest brother, and Eris was nearly three centuries old by the time Lucien had been a baby. They’d watched him grow up, but in his memories, they were all grown.

Why was it so hard for him and so easy for Elain?

“Enjoy yourself, little Lucien,” Connall said in that easy, flippant way of his. “If mother likes Elain, it means you’ve found yourself a keeper. From Spring, no less.”

“It’s just…”

Not what he wanted. Every eye in the room fell back to their hands, refusing to look at him. They knew, though. Even after Eris had sent Jesminda away, even after she’d told him to leave her alone, he was still holding out some sliver of hope that he was going to wake up one morning and it would be Jesminda's dark hair splayed out on the pillow.

Even after everything, he still wanted her.

Lucien knew he was a fool.

“Go to bed, Lucien,” Eris said, rising from his chair. “Go fuck your wife until you can think of nothing and no one else. And if that doesn’t work, take a mistress to amuse yourself.”

“Leave Elain alone,” Tanwen added, a sharp edge to his voice. When Lucien looked around, he found his brothers all looking at him again, their eyes matching Tanwen’s tone. 

Right. 

She was one of them, but he was not. Lucien strode from the room, determined not to take Eris’s advice. Cadmus’ held promise, though. What if he sent her away after the celebration? Eris would never agree to let Arina join her, but Ayla would likely be allowed. Hells, Elain could hand pick the ladies she wanted to accompany her. And if she picked up with some sentry, well. Lucien didn’t care.

I’ll kill any male who touches her—

Lucien exhaled with frustration, making his way back to his bedchambers where he found Elain seated at a table staring at several different color swatches. She looked up when he walked into the room and without thinking, offered him a pretty half smile.

“Come help me,” she said as Lucien stood there agape. Was Elain willingly asking him to sit in her company? She typically darted off anytime he walked into a room. Lucien walked to her, waiting for the spell to shatter and her to realize it was him and not one of the brothers she preferred.

“What do you need help with?”

“These different shades of pink,” she said, a frown tugging the corners of her pretty mouth. “I hate them all.”

“So do I,” Lucien admitted, drinking in the rosy, spring shades. “What is your theme?”

Elain’s cheeks heated. “Old meets new.”

Spring meets Autumn, he supposed. Elain fidgeted with one of the squares of cloth, unable to meet his gaze.

“Perhaps something darker?” he offered. “More maroon than pink?”

“I thought the same thing,” Elain admitted, setting the little square back on the table. “But your mother has this vision of pink and silver and I don’t want to disappoint her.

“Trust me when I say you’ll disappoint her far more if you let her dress you in something you don’t like.”

“She’s been so nice,” Elain admitted, chewing on her bottom lip. “She’s like my mother if…”

Lucien held his breath, waiting for Elain to finish.

“Nevermind,” she said with a sigh, gathering up her swatches. “I—”

“No,” he breathed, strangely desperate. “Tell me.”

“It’s nothing, I promise,” she said, but Lucien wasn’t going to be deterred. He’d take anything, any little piece of information that would give him a more solid footing with the stranger he called a wife. They’d been married for nearly two weeks and Lucien knew practically nothing about her. Elain didn’t give up her secrets easily and in her defense, Lucien hadn’t tried to make conversation with her, either.

“Tell me anyway.”

“You’re not going to let it go, are you?” she said, bracing herself against the table. Lucien scooted closer as Elain lifted herself atop it, legs swinging sweetly. He wanted to get on his knees, wanted to slide his hand up her slim calves and—

“No. So you may as well just tell me,” he said, flashing her what he hoped was a charming grin. 

“Your mother is like my mother if she was warm,” Elain managed, eyes latching on a painting across the room. 

“Your mother is unkind?”

“No, not unkind, just…” Elain bit her bottom lip again. “Spring is a lot like a vipers nest, and you have to think like one if you want to survive. My mother is queen of the vipers, I suppose. She wasn’t cruel, but…we all had our parts to play, clearly.”

“Why did you go first?” Lucien asked, giving voice to the question that had plagued him since she’d first been sent to him. “Why not your older sister?”

Elain sighed. “The High Lord delays the match. He’s angling for Feyre, but the humiliation of spurning Nesta would ruin all of us. I think mother wanted to see me gone just in case he decided to spit in the face of tradition.”

“Tamlin loves tradition,” Lucien said softly. “If he promised to marry Nesta, he will.”

Elain nodded, though it was clear she didn’t agree. Whatever was going on over there, Elain certainly knew it better. Still, it was nice to have some context to the marriage. Elain had agreed, even though she didn’t want to, to ensure her sister's futures, too. There was something strangely lovely about it.

Or maybe it was just the insight that Lucien appreciated. He didn’t understand Elain at all, especially knowing her father likely would have intervened if she’d begged. Sometimes, Lucien imagined that Elain had come simply to torment him, even if deep down he knew that wasn’t true.

She’d come because she loved her family. That made it a little harder to dislike her. Would Lucien have done the same for his brothers? He genuinely couldn’t say, though he suspected he wouldn’t have. Not that it mattered—males weren’t held to the same standards as females. If Lucien had ruined his engagement, Elain would have been tainted in the process but he would have come out unscathed. 

“If you want, I can talk to mother,” Lucien offered, wanting to do something for Elain that wasn’t half apology. He felt earnest—hopeful, even. “Soften the blow.”

Elain offered him a half smile that made her even more beautiful than usual. Lucien was terrified of the day she gave him a full smile, wholly directed at him. Would he survive it? Lucien wasn’t sure he’d survive any of this because Elain was his mate, and he had the terrible feeling that if he got to know her, he’d like her.

It was a constant war between not wanting her at all and wanting her so badly it made his teeth ache. It was going to be like this for his entire life. Lucien understood why so many gave in to the bond. A not small part of him wanted to. Wanted to throw himself at her feet and demand to know why she hadn’t told him if she felt it, too. And another part wanted…well. Wanted to know if she’d like her if he didn’t have that thread tugging in his chest. His heart pounded out a steady, consistent beat: mine, mine, mine.

“I can do it,” she said, rising from her chair while stretching out her neck. “I don’t want her to think I don’t respect her.”

“She wouldn’t think that,” Lucien assured her, though he appreciated Elain was willing to have a personally uncomfortable conversation. 

“All the same,” Elain said blithely, eyes still dancing even when her mouth had flattened into a neutral expression. She was so fucking pretty. 

“Well. Tell me the colors so I don’t embarrass you,” he said, hoping, once again, he was coming off as charming and not demanding. Elain glanced over her shoulder, a curl ghosting over her cheek.

“Whatever you say.”

She turned for the bedroom, leaving Lucien to trail helplessly behind her. 

ELAIN:

If everything went according to plan, Tanwen would ask Ayla to dance. They’d look at each other. Maybe even speak, assuming Tanwen could move both his feet and lips at the same time. Maybe they’d kiss, if the night went well, and Tanwen would realize he was madly in love with Ayla and Elain could spend the rest of her time arranging their marriage to take her mind off her own. 

The Lady of Autumn had gone all out—the ballroom was packed with people from a myriad of courts, including her own. She’d seen Nesta floating around in a gown made of spun silver—a match for the blue of her sharp eyes. If Nesta was there, Feyre was, too, likely exploring some hidden area of the palace she shouldn’t be in. Elain had seen a few Day Court courtiers flock to Arina, their eyes lined with kohl, dressed in bright, breezy linens that seemed strangely out of place around Arina. 

Elain had taken Lucien’s advice, told his mother she didn’t like the rose color that had been chosen and ended up in a blood red gown that she never would have chosen for herself, once upon a time. When Amera presented it to Elain, setting the silk gown gently on the bed, Elain’s heart had thrummed.

Feyre would have worn it. Nesta, too. Her sisters were bolder, less afraid of making a statement. She wanted to be the kind of female who wore things like that, though. It was modest enough, with the off-shoulder sleeves that revealed freckled skin and delicate collarbones without even a hint of cleavage. The bodice was tight, the sides embroidered in gold flowers that made it seem as if her waist was pulled in smaller, creating the illusion of real curves.

She’d pulled her hair off her face with the pearl combs Lucien had given her as a show of good faith given how nice he’d been over the last few days. Not friendly, exactly, but nicer than he’d been since they’d met. He was looking at her when he spoke to her, which felt like a major improvement.

She hadn’t seen him yet, though the night was still early—plenty of time for Lucien to embarrass her yet. 

Floating through the throngs of people, the smell of sticky pastries and wine in the air, Elain tried to find Ayla. Her friend had sworn she’d be there, as had Tanwen after a lot of cajoling and pleading. 

Who will dance with me? she’d asked, making her eyes big and round. Tanwen, unused to being manipulated by a female, had folded almost immediately though he’d grumbled that he didn’t dance. Not with her, perhaps—but someone else? Elain didn’t believe he was above courting entirely given the rumors she’d heard floating around.

The Vanserra’s had a reputation and if Elain had to guess, she’d bet she was one of the few people left that had no idea what it was like to be underneath one.

“There you are,” Lucien’s warm voice murmured as his fingers brushed the tops of her shoulder. Elain turned and immediately wished she hadn’t. Lucien had asked what color she was wearing and Elain had said red and yet somehow, he’d managed to coordinate his jacket to the exact shade of her dress.

Fuck him, she thought privately as she took in the well-tailored fabric fitted to his broad, muscular chest. His boots gleamed beneath the faelights, cut up to his knees before giving way to black pants that showed off powerful thighs. He wore a gold band around his ring finger and he’d half braided his hair off his face much like Elain had done with the combs. He looked…he looked good.

Beautiful, even, in a roguish kind of way. 

“Were you looking for me?” Elain asked, noting that Lucien was looking at her much like she’d just done. His eyes darkened, scent sharpening and oh. This wasn’t a good time for him to realize he was sexually attracted to her. 

Lucien cleared his throat, eyes returning to her face. “It’s our celebration, I figured we ought to be seen together. Happy,” he added with a frown.

Elain couldn’t help her laugh. The whole thing was absurd. “Well, you’re truly selling it.”

Lucien blinked. “Are you going to tell me what this is in service of, now?”

“You don’t believe I’m so incandescently happy?” Elain teased, gaze snagging on the High Lord. She hadn’t expected Beron Vanserra to come, but there he was, arm linked with his wife and brown eyes bright as he listened to her speak. Elain was terrified of Beron and his shows of temper, his violence, and the bruises Elain often caught on Amera’s body when her sleeves slid up her wrists.

And yet here, he was the picture of adoration. Was it possible to love someone you hated? Elain turned, catching her husband also watching with a disdainful expression on his face. He didn’t bother hiding it, and Beron didn’t notice. Elain had heard Beron was preoccupied with Eris and Cadmus, but paid little attention to Connall and Tanwen and practically none at all to Lucien. To Elain, that seemed like a best case scenario, but maybe Lucien resented his fathers disinterest.

Or maybe he resented the way Beron terrorized his family.

She’d never asked, determined not to make it her business. 

Lucien rolled his eyes, returning to their conversation as his fingers skimmed down her spine. He’d been touching her more often—absent gestures she wasn’t certain he was even aware he did. Every time his skin met hers, Elain’s whole body ignited with interest, which prompted her to try, desperately, to avoid his touch. What would Lucien do if he ever caught a whiff of her changing scent?

Elain knew she was on borrowed time, that eventually there would be questions about what they did when they were alone. The expectation of children would begin to arise and Elain would have to bow to the pressure and at least try. It had taken her own parents nearly five decades to conceive Nesta and Elain expected it would take her just as long, even if she and Lucien put themselves on a strict schedule.

What was worse was the thought that she might enjoy it. The vision persisted, lingering in her mind as it taunted. 

You could be happy if you made different choices.

Lucien's fingers stilled at the small of her back, as though he realized how far he’d drifted and knew he was in danger. 

“Tell me the truth,” Lucien murmured, leading the two of them through the throngs of people dancing to soft music played by musicians seated in elegant chairs. Cool air blew in from the open windows and some brave souls donned cloaks before sneaking out toward the garden for a moment alone. 

Elain would bet that's where Feyre was. 

“We deserve a little celebration, Lucien,” she said, turning abruptly for the garden just to see what her sister was doing. The last thing she needed was for Eris to find Feyre poking through something and start an international incident like that one time Feyre had been permitted to join their father in Winter. 

“Elain—”

“Why does it bother you?” she asked without malice, letting him trail after her as they made their way into the dark. A pillar half hid a couple furiously kissing, the smell of salt and desire half choking Elain. Lucien coughed, for all the good it did—the pair broke apart to look at them before deciding they didn’t care if they had an audience. Elain scurried toward the grounds when the male dropped to his knees, head ducking beneath a skirt. Behind her, Lucien muttered something she couldn’t quite make out, though it sounded disapproving. 

“What if I wanted to help whatever scheme you’re currently working through?” he responded, jogging up beside her. “Did that occur to you?”

Elain’s steps slowed. It hadn’t. “I’m trying to set up your brother.”

Lucien’s brow furrowed. “Which one?”

“Tanwen.”

He laughed, which annoyed her. “What?”

“Tanwen? Elain, if you want to set him up, you need to hide her in the woods for him to find.”

“He said he’d dance,” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest as she faced off with Lucien. The grass was damp, the wet bleeding through the soft fabric of her shoes. Unlike Lucien who had layers beneath his jacket, Elain merely had the thin fabric of her gown. Lucien looked warm, and some part of her wanted to close the distance between them and fold herself against his body.

“Did you use your feminine wiles on him? Poor Tanwen,” Lucien teased, poking her in the stomach. 

Elain scented something strange just as she was about to retort—sea salt and citrus, wholly out of place in the Autumn wood. Lucien, too, caught the scent of it, his eyes flicking up over Elain’s head as one hand came out to half pull her against his body. She’d been right—Lucien was warm. 

A moment later, Feyre Archeron appeared looking dazed and pale. Elain’s sister had merely stepped out of a rip in the world, trailing star-flecked shadows behind her as she went. There was no one with her—just Feyre, who could apparently winnow. Elain had never known that. 

“Are you okay?” Elain asked when Feyre passed. Her sister started, eyes bright like the moon.

“Of course,” she said, her tone strangely breathless. “I was…lost.”

“Lost.” Lucien repeated, his tone rich with disbelief. “Where were you going?”

“I…out,” Feyre finally said, practically floating away from them. Both Elain and Lucien watched and she suspected if she’d turned to look at him, they’d be wearing matching expressions of confusion.

“That…was strange,” Lucien finally said, releasing Elain from his grip. She took a step away on instinct, desperate for a breath of air not tainted by the soft, masculine scent of him. “Is she always like that?”

Elain wanted to assure him that Feyre wasn’t, but… “Yeah,” she said with a sigh. It was pretty par for the course for Feyre to slip off and keep secrets about her magic. If Feyre could winnow and hadn’t told anyone, it was for a reason. Elain certainly wasn’t going to divulge that information.

“Come on,” Lucien murmured, and she swore when she looked at him, a faint glow emanating off the edges of his skin. She blinked and it was gone, fading to a memory she couldn’t quite recall. Had she seen it? Or had she merely imagined it? 

“You’re shivering,” Lucien added when Elain didn’t move, reaching for her once again. He couldn’t keep touching her—he was wearing down her resolve. One of these days Lucien might put his hands on her and she’d thank him for it.

Something in her wanted to make him work harder, even if it was inevitable. She wanted to like him, at least, before he took her clothes off her. And more than that, Elain wanted Lucien to like her, too. She was certain he didn’t—not really. What she found gazing back at her when she looked at him was merely acceptance. He’d made his peace with this marriage, something he should have done the moment he found himself standing at the priestesses altar, and was ready to get on with things. 

Elain followed Lucien back into the bright, dizzying warmth, eyes scanning the room for both her sisters and Tanwen. She found Ayla, dressed in rich burgundy chatting with a male whose name escaped her. She saw Connall leaned against a pillar holding court while a semi-circle of females laughed at something undoubtedly stupid he’d said.

Cadmus and Eris patrolled the edges of the room, talking among themselves even as Eris’s eyes continued to slide to his mate, giggling with some of the females that routinely came to Ayla’s card games.

But no Tanwen. Lucien must have realized it, too, because his fingers brushed the back of her hand. “Told you.” It was the wrong thing to say to her right then. His touch, combined with her own confusing mix of emotions, caused a rush of anger to flood through her. Elain’s attraction to him, the closeness of his body, the way she swore she saw him looking at her at times—all of it was too much.

“That was uncalled for,” she hissed, grateful when he didn’t follow behind her. Elain didn’t turn to look at him, either.

She knew he was watching.

She could feel it.

LUCIEN:

“You’re an asshole,” Lucien began, snatching the weapon from his brothers hand before Tanwen could take a swing. Tanwen turned, brows raised. 

“For what?”

“You told Elain you’d dance with her,” Lucien reminded him, almost telling his brother the truth of the matter. Lucien very much doubted Elain would be forgiving if she learned he’d messed up her little plan—even if Lucien thought it was ridiculous. 

Tanwen blew out a breath. “I don’t dance.”

“It was one dance.”

“You dance with her,” Tanwen retorted, reaching for the axe but Lucien held it just out of reach. They were matched for height and likely matched in strength, though Lucien knew from experience that if Tanwen wanted to hurt him, it would be relatively easy for him to do so. In his youth, he’d tried to take on all his brothers to disastrous results. Besides, if he limped back into the house with a bruised eye and busted lip, Elain would know that he’d been meddling to help her.

It might make her like him a little better…and Lucien didn’t want her to know he was trying as hard as he was. He couldn’t explain it—call it petulance, call it his own inner angst, but Lucien wanted Elain to simply wake up one day desperate and needy from the bond and court him a little, too.

“You made a promise,” Lucien pressed, tossing the axe to the damp, leafy ground beside his brother. 

“I fucking hate that shit,” Tanwen snapped, running a hand over his messy hair. “The people, the noise, I—” he took a breath. “I tried, alright? But someone tried to talk to me and I couldn’t do it. If you want me to make it up to your wife, though—”

“Watch your fucking mouth,” Lucien warned, temper flaring. Lucien was coming to the realization that he likely couldn’t spend another month sleeping in the same bed as his mate without touching her. He toyed with the idea of creating some kind of bargain between them in which he was allowed to have her in the evenings and she could do whatever she liked with the rest of her time. But Lucien’s treacherous mind betrayed him, conjuring images of her taking a lover and he became restless and angry all over again. In his mind, Lucien was allowed to have her however he wanted her, but ultimately bore no responsibility toward her as he figured out his own feelings.

To make matters worse, every time he pictured Elain, his guilty thoughts bled Jesminda into the image until Lucien was frustrated with himself—Jesminda had told him to move on. Move on. It was taking too long, the heartbreak making a fool out of him. How did people get over it? Did they ever? 

Or maybe you’re scared you’ll move on and be fine, a traitor's voice whispered in his mind. Maybe you’re afraid you’d be happy if you let yourself.

“Shut up,” he mumbled under his breath. 

Tawnen glanced at Lucien, rolling his eyes. “I’m sorry if I upset Elain,” Tanwen conceded, though he didn’t look too shamed. “I’ll make it up to her.” Lucien doubted it, though, given his wife was very much trying to set Tanwen up. He trusted she’d find some new little scheme to put them back in the same room. Begrudgingly, he had to admit the thought of Elain trying to set Tanwen up amused him, if only because Tanwen was the most oblivious of the bunch. If he had his way, he’d abandon court entirely for some cottage in the woods and live entirely off the land. Tanwen would have thrived as governor of the rural counties of Autumn, though that post belonged to Connall, technically.

Beron sent Tanwen to their biggest port city and forced him to oversee the people there, knowing Tanwen hated the politics just as he knew counting crops bored Connall to tears. It wasn’t about learning anything, either. He simply liked making his sons suffer for his amusement. Lucien wasn’t allowed any leadership positions—Beron said he didn’t have enough cities, though Lucien knew that Beron simply didn’t like him and did not want to nurture any potential High Lord qualities in Lucien that might unseat Eris or Cadmus. 

Lucien left Tanwen to his weapons, meandering even when he knew where he was going. He wanted the pretense of stumbling upon her, of seeing her with her hair tied off her face with a pink bandana, hands buried in soil. Lucien found her dressed in a rich purple, hem pooled around her knees as she plunged a little trowel into the earth.

She wore his gloves. Lucien’s heart raced at the sight of them, once tossed carelessly in a drawer along with everything else. She’d worn his combs the night before, his gloves today…Lucien took a breath. Elain was softening. Maybe he could bend a little, too. Pushing open the gate, Lucien made his way toward her.

“Planting?” he asked, noting the bed of weeds had been cleared out of the space. It must have taken her hours to do it.

Elain glanced up, a bead of sweat sliding down her brow. He wanted to taste it. “Your brothers helped clear this place out,” she said sweetly, rising up to sit on her heels. “It’s made things go faster.”

“What are you planting?”

“Here? Aster,” she said, showing him the little trays of budding plants she’d clearly been growing herself. “I’ve mapped it all out. Would you like to see?”

“Yes,” he breathed, coming close enough their knees brushed when he lowered himself to the ground. Elain pulled out a little journal and a rolled up piece of paper that she spread out for him.

Lucien recognized Cadmus’ work, sketched out beside Elain’s looping, pretty handwriting. 

“Your brother painted it for me,” Elain admitted, running her fingers over the pretty watercolors that graced the page. I showed him my layout and he put it together.

“We should frame this when you’re finished,” Lucien murmured, thinking it really was lovely. 

Elain’s eyes were bright. “Really?”

He didn’t like that creeping hope in her voice—her belief that he wasn’t a kind male, and didn’t care about her at all. It wasn’t true, though Lucien knew he’d done very little to disabuse her of the notion.

“Of course,” he replied, trying to keep his voice light and nonchalant. “You should be proud of what you’ve accomplished.”

Elain tucked a curl behind her ear. “It’s just a garden, it’s not as if—”

“It’s important,” Lucien interrupted, tone gentle but firm. “Beautiful, too.”

Elain’s cheeks flushed, eyes slipping back to the ground. “That’s…thank you, Lucien.”

“Can I help?” he asked, deciding to push his luck. What did it hurt, he reasoned, to try and get to know his wife? His mate? 

Biting her bottom lip, Elain nodded. “That would be nice.”

“I saw Tanwen this morning,” Lucien said, adopting a lighter, more gossipy tone. Elain’s eyes lit up.

“Did you tell him he ruined my night?” Elain demanded with a grin. “Winston occupied nearly all of Ayla’s time.”

“Winston,” Lucien grumbled, though in truth he had no issue with the lord. Winston was perfectly polite, in a bland kind of way. He was the kind of male Ayla could boss around and dominate, which wasn’t the worst position to be in given how Autumn viewed females. It was the closest thing to autonomy Ayla could hope for.

“Right?” Elain agreed, taking one of the little plants from him to nestle it gently in the dirt. “He’s so…”

“Agreed,” Lucien replied, heart thudding in his throat. “Could I offer you some advice?”

“Please,” she replied, eyes darting to him again. The urge to push her into the dirt and cover her mouth with his own reared through him with an intensity so hot that Lucien could feel his cock stir in his pants. 

Calm yourself, he ordered. 

“Consider an activity that Tanwen is interested in.”

“Like what?”

“What is the game you, Arina, and Ayla are always organizing on the lawn?”

“It’s a bit like tag, but less rough,” Elain admitted, cheeks flushing again.

“So why not a larger game?” Lucien suggested, mind racing with possibilities. “Or, perhaps something more akin to hide and seek. That could be romantic.”

Elain’s brows raised. “You’re quite clever.”

He grinned. “I’ll take the compliment.”

“How would we ensure we get them alone?”

“Easy enough. You and I will hide somewhere together—somewhere only I know,” Lucien added, his heart picking up again. He knew the exact tree he’d put her in, ancient and hollowed out by a High Lords son long since dead. Lucien had spent years hiding there as a child, reading and writing and otherwise daydreaming about more interesting adventures. With Elain, the space would feel smaller…perhaps he’d take the opportunity to truly touch her. Run his knuckles over her cheek, his nose along the curve of her neck.

“And Arina?”

Lucien snorted. “Eris won’t be able to help himself.”

Elain wrinkled her nose, scrunching the little freckles adorably. “Ew.”

“And Tanwen considers himself an expert tracker. Finding Ayla will be easiest, because she won’t be masked by another male's scent. And maybe, once they’re alone…”

Elain clapped her hands in front of her chest, giving him an excuse to look at the soft swell of her breasts. Elain was far too appealing, mate or not, and Lucien had the sinking suspicion he’d want her even without the cord currently wrapped around his throat. 

Squashing his guilt, Lucien took a breath. 

Unaware of his inner torment, Elain offered him a smile. “Okay. I like this plan—give me a few days to put it together so it seems natural and not too suspicious.”

“Naturally.”

“And you’ll join?”

“Nothing would amuse me more than to see Tanwen fall prey to the very court scheming he loathes.”

“You make it sound so sinister. I merely want him to find happiness,” she said, unaware that Ayla was the kind of female Tanwen had made a habit of ignoring. He could see her with Cadmus, perhaps, if Cadmus ever deigned to smile or have a moment of fun. Connall was too busy fucking his way through Prythian to ever consider a wife and truthfully, was likely to make someone very unhappy given how little he thought of commitment. 

“And you think Ayla is his happiness?” Lucien questioned.

Elain only shrugged. “Maybe. It doesn’t hurt to try, does it?”

Lucien began digging out Elain’s next chalk mark as she carefully replanted, not willing to look at her. “I suppose not,” he murmured, feeling as if she were speaking to him as well. You’re not trying at all, he swore her voice accused which wasn’t true. He’d given her gifts, hadn’t he? He was sitting outside despite the biting chill, hands without gloves, dirt gathering beneath his nails. 

Lucien wondered if she couldn’t sense his hesitation, his indecision. What did she feel? He was desperate to know. Experimentally, he pulled on the bond just to see what she’d do. Elain’s brow furrowed, hand flying to her chest to rub.

“Are you well?” he asked. Tell me you feel what I feel.

“I may have strained myself,” she admitted, hand falling to her lap. “Or perhaps I’m coming down with something.”

Lucien bit back his sigh. She felt it, but didn’t realize what was happening. Perhaps that was a blessing, then. He wondered if the snapping had felt different for her, or had been masked by her other emotions, lost to the swirl of fear and anxiety. How did he tell her without upsetting her? Could he? 

“You should take it easier,” he murmured, unsure how she’d even go about doing that. “Rest more.”

Elain bit her bottom lips, gaze far away. “I feel like all I do is rest. I garden, I go about with my friends, I eat, I sleep. Hardly exerting.” Interesting. “What would you like to be doing, then?”

She considered this, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “Travel?”

Lucien’s whole body tightened. Was that it? His disbelief must have shown on his face because she quickly added, “I heard the continent had tulip fields as big as a sea.”

“I’ve never seen them,” he admitted, mind racing, “I’d like to, though.”

“Maybe we could go?” she suggested.

Lucien resisted the urge to crush her against him. “Whatever you like.”

It was a start.

[pinchofhoney]

Hi! Could I request a Ben Barnes x reader story where they have been secretly dating for a long time and their relationship only gets publically found out when Ben accidentally does an interview with a lipstick mark on his face/neck 💋

white lies

@/pinchofhoney, i'm the author of this poorly made edit (autocomplete interview with ben is something we all need)

i combined this request with another one, because they are meant to be together: (...) if you could write a one shot where Ben and the reader are in a really private relationship, and when I mean private like literally just them, like their close friends are the only one who knows they're together but one time they got spotted and it went trending and the reader thought they would receive backlash but turns out the people have always been rooting for them? (...)

ben barnes x fem!reader

word count: 2.9k

warning: nothing but fluff, everyone loves fluff<33

summary: The saying goes that a lie has no legs, and this rings especially true when it is caught on camera.

a/n: hello, and thank you for your request!!<33 i know how long you waited for me to write it, so i hope you will be satisfied with the result:(( let me know, please! thank you for your patience<3

every like and reblog is very much appreciated. don't let if flop!!

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: @wolfmoonmusic @myladydarkling @alexxavicry @danelhi @lonelywitchv2

“Hey there, I’m Ben Barnes and today I’m doing WIRED Autocomplete Interview,” Ben introduces himself with a bright smile on his lips and his eyes fixed directly on the camera, so everyone in front of the screen could feel as he was speaking specific to them.

When one of the people off-camera handed him the first question board, Ben quickly thanked them before taking a moment to look on the very well-known by internauts object. With a confident smile, he uncovered the first question and responded without hesitation. “Is Ben Barnes British? Yes, absolutely. I was born in London, England and I am 100% British, even though I spend a lot of time in the States,” he replied with a hint of amusement in his tone. “Although, I thought my accent would give it away,” he added with a chuckle before tearing off another piece of paper to reveal the next question.

“Is Ben Barnes an only child?” as he read question, he shook his hand in front of him to remove a piece of paper that had stuck to his fingers. The paper eventually fluttered to the ground, and Ben's attention returned to the camera with a grin on his face. “No, I actually have a younger brother named Jack,” he said, his eyes sparkling with joy as he recalled his sibling. “He's absolutely lovely, I miss him,” he added, nodding his head slightly.

Upon reading the next question, Ben furrowed his eyebrows, a hint of confusion flickering across his face. “Is Ben Barnes Spanish?” he raised his head to look at the camera and chuckled. “I don’t think we need to answer this question,” he said genuinely amused by the search. Without skipping a beat, he quickly moved on to the next question, and when he read it, his face lit up with a warm smile again. “Is Ben Barnes in the T-Mobile commercial? Yes!” he declared, his voice brimming with pride. He sent the camera a charming grin and added, “I, in fact, am this charming British actor,” winking at the camera and playfully imitating a line spoken in the commercial.

The quiet giggles of the women working in production behind the camera made you burst out laughing. Even though you couldn't see them, you could picture the adorable grins on their faces. Ben always knew how to work his charm, and sometimes you found yourself resenting him for it, especially when he used it against you. Both of you knew you couldn't resist his charismatic plays.

You sit on the couch, absorbed in the latest interview with Ben, which had just been posted online. You could be his girlfriend, his confidante, his partner in crime, but he never shared any behind-the-scenes secrets with you. He loved seeing your genuine reactions to his work, no matter what they were. It was just one of the many things that made him so endearing to you.

As the interview continued to play on your phone, you heard the familiar sound of Ben's footsteps entering the living room. You looked up to see him walking towards you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He knew what you were watching and he couldn't resist the opportunity to tease you. He leaned over the back of the couch, his face hovering just inches from yours.

“What are you watching, love?” he asked, his voice full of amusement.

You rolled your eyes at his playful tone, but couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of your lips. “Just the latest interview with my favorite actor,” you replied, pretending to be unimpressed.

Ben grinned and leaned in closer, his breath tickling your cheek. “Oh, really? And who might that be?” he asked, his voice dripping with mock curiosity.

You shook your head, trying to hide your smile. “I don't know, some Benjamin? He reminds me of my favorite character from Disney animation,” you teased back.

Ben chuckled and pressed a quick kiss to your temple before settling onto the couch next to you. You leaned into him, enjoying his familiar scent and the feeling of his arm draped around your shoulder. The interview continued to play, but you found yourself more distracted by Ben's presence than the questions being asked. You couldn't help but steal glances at him, admiring the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled and the way his hair looked even messier than always. You could hardly believe that the charming and witty actor was your boyfriend.

“Wait,” he suddenly spoke up, snapping you out of your thoughts about him. He shifted his curious gaze to you after he stopped the video, his eyes a warm shade of brown that you could get lost in for hours. “Which character?” he asked, his voice filled with interest.

You furrowed your eyebrows completely off guard. It took you a moment to realize that he was referring to the words spoken as a joke. “Oh,” you said, your eyebrows raising slightly as your brain processed his question. “Eugene Fitzherbert.”

“Eugene?” Ben repeated, looking even more confused than you were a seconds earlier.

“Oh my goodness,” you muttered pretending to be annoyed. “Flynn Rider, does that tell you anything? Girl with magic hair? An evil stepmother keeping her in a tower?” you shifted away from him, settling into a cross-legged position as you faced him. “I've got a dream, I've got a dream. I just wanna see the floating lanterns gleam,” you sang, earning a chuckle from Ben.

“Okay, Rapunzel. Right,” he said, still laughing as he watched you. “I should have known. You’ve watched that movie, what, a hundred times?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but couldn't help the fond smile that crept onto your face. "Only a hundred? I thought you knew me better than that," you teased, leaning back into his side.

Ben shook his head, still grinning from ear to ear at your playful banter. He reached for your phone and resumed the interview with a smile. You watched him intently as he answered all this questions, his passion for storytelling evident in every word he said. But suddenly your attention was diverted by something you hadn't noticed before – something that could potentially create a stir online.

Your hand flew to your mouth in surprise. “Oh no,” you gasped. “Is this what I'm thinking about?”

Without a second thought, you took the phone out of Ben's hands and held it up to your face, squinting to make sure you weren't mistaken.

Ben chuckled at your sudden change in behavior. “What are you looking at? I know I'm devilishly handsome, but you can look at me in person, you know?” he joked, but as he noticed your furrowed brow and lack of response, his expression turned serious.

“What is that?”

You turned your head, shifting your gaze to Ben, all the while holding your hand to your mouth with eyes wide open. “The reddish mark on your neck.”

Hearing your words, Ben's eyes widened and he almost snatched the phone from your hands to get a better look. At the same moment, a question about whether Ben had a partner appeared on the white board, to which he firmly denied and quickly moved on to the next topic. Hearing this coincidence, you burst out laughing uncontrollably, but Ben didn't find it as amusing since you had managed to keep your relationship a secret for over a year. Only your closest friends and family knew about it, and no one else. You had made the mutual decision to keep your relationship under wraps. It had started as a way to avoid unwanted attention and speculation from the media and fans, but as time went on, it had become a way to protect your relationship and keep it sacred. It had been a source of stress and anxiety at times, but it had also brought you closer together, sharing this special secret that only the two of you knew.

The situation was too ironic, and you couldn't stop laughing. The timing of the question about Ben's relationship status coming up at the same moment you noticed the mark on his neck was too much of a coincidence to ignore. Finally getting a hold of yourself, you asked, “What do we do now?” Noticing the look on Ben's face, you could tell he was worried.

He tried to reassure himself by saying, “This mark is barely noticeable. No one should be able to spot it, right?”

But you couldn't offer him any comfort, and you just helplessly shrugged your shoulders. You had to be honest with yourself, the idea of it being exposed was kind of terrifying. You knew that if you made it public, it would change everything. People would start scrutinizing every little detail of your lives, and the media could potentially spin it in a negative light. Being a regular person, you valued your privacy and didn't want to deal with the hassle of being in the public eye. Besides, what if his fans didn't like you? The thought of reading negative comments about yourself on all your social media profiles was daunting. You knew what kind of venom some users were capable of spewing, and you didn't want to expose yourself to that kind of negativity.

You quickly navigated to the comments section below the interview, frantically searching through the fan reactions, praying that no one had caught a glimpse of the conspicuous reddish mark on Ben's neck that you had left there before he went to work. Why the makeup artists had failed to conceal the mark before filming? They should have noticed it.

As you scrolled through the fan reactions in the comments section, you couldn't help but groan when you came across the first comment that mentioned the hint of your lipstick with an exact time reference. “03:31 BENJABIN THOMAS BARNES WHAT IS THAT MARK ON YOUR NECK?” you read aloud, and looked uncertainly at Ben, who was also staring at the phone screen. Your fears had come true.

As you continued to read, you noticed that there were other comments that also mentioned the mark. Ben pointed his finger at one of them too, confirming your suspicions. The situation was getting out of hand.

But amidst all the serious comments, there were a few that made you chuckle. “Someone wrote all men do is lie,” you laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

“I don’t lie,” he rolled his eyes, biting his lower lip to keep himself from laughing along with you.

“You do and this video is the proof of that,” when you said these words, you suddenly realized something. You straightened up, opening your mouth in surprise, and looked at Ben with feigned indignation. “Are you the one who ate the last cookies in the package? Don’t lie to me,” you said clearly, pointing an accusing finger at him with a serious face, wandering your eyes over his face.

“I-” Ben began in a defensive tone, and you watched the amusement that started painting on his face. “Okay, fine, it was me,” he admitted, laughing and defusing the tension. “But let’s not start a cookie war right now.”

As you both sat there in silence, you reached over to lock the screen of the phone, effectively ending the interview. With the device now resting on the table in front of you, the weight of what had just occurred began to sink in.

After a few moments, you tentatively broke the silence with a suggestion. “Why don't we just pretend that nothing happened?” you offered, hoping that Ben would agree. It was clear to both of you that publicly announcing your relationship was not an option, and this seemed like the best way to handle the situation.

Ben looked relieved at your suggestion and nodded in agreement. “Yeah, that's probably for the best,” he said, his voice sounding a little strained. You could tell that he was still processing everything that had just happened.

You sat in silence for a few more minutes, both lost in your thoughts. Finally, you decided to break the tension with a joke. “Well, at least now we know that your fans are Sherlock-level detectives,” you quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

Ben chuckled, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, I guess I underestimated their sleuthing skills,” he replied, his voice sounding a little more relaxed now.

As the weeks passed after the incident during the interview, you and Ben did your best to keep your relationship under wraps. You avoided going out in public together, and when you did, you made sure to keep a low profile. But on this particular day, you decided to grab lunch at a small café near the neighborhood he lived in. You were enjoying your meal and chatting with Ben when a fan spotted him and shyly approached your table.

“Excuse me, are you Ben Barnes?” the fan asked excited, holding out their phone for a photo.

Ben smiled politely and put his coffee down on the table before agreeing to take a photo with her. She handed you her phone, her hands shaking with excitement, and asked if you could take the picture for her. You accepted with a soft smile and positioned yourself to take a few shots while Ben stood up to pose with the fan.

After the photos were taken, she couldn’t contain her happiness and gushed, “I’m such a big fan! I loved you in The Punisher.”

Ben chuckled and responded with a grateful tone, “Thank you! I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

The fan asked him a few more questions about his upcoming projects and music, and you observed with admiration as Ben responded with a smile and listened intently to her every word. He never gave the impression that he was bothered or uninterested, even if the topic wasn't something he was particularly fond of. You thought how much his fans meant to him and how he treated each of them with respect and kindness, making them feel important and appreciated.

As the fan walked away from your table, beaming with excitement, you couldn't help but feel a tinge of jealousy at her experience. It was amazing to see how Ben handled his fans with such kindness and charm, making each and every one of them feel special, and you were sure that the girl would cherish this encounter for a long time. Despite having witnessed this before, you were still impressed every time by his sincere connection with his fans.

When Ben sat back down, you could tell that he was still in a good mood. “She was sweet,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee. “It's always nice to meet fans, you know?”

You smiled at him, feeling warm in your heart. “You're amazing with your fans, Ben. I don't know how you do it.”

He shrugged, looking down at his coffee cup. “I don't know, I just try to make them feel appreciated. They're the reason I get to do what I love, after all.”

The two of you continued chatting for a while longer, discussing the least important things, enjoying each other's presence and having lunch together. But as you were about to leave the café, you noticed something strange happening on your phone.

“What's going on?” Ben asked, noticing the look of concern on your face.

You showed him your Twitter feed, where several notifications were popping up, all of them about the photo you had just taken of Ben with the fan, praising Ben's good looks and speculating about your identity. “Looks like we're trending on Twitter,” you said not sure how to react.

You glanced at your phone's screen once again and read the tweet that had caught your attention. “JUST SAW BEN BARNES OUT FOR LUNCH WITH HIS MYSTERY GIRLFRIEND! I have no idea who she is but THEY LOOK SO CUTE TOGETHER! Screaming crying throwing up #thatshouldbeme”.

Ben let out a small laugh as he read the tweet on his phone. "Well, I guess the cat's out of the bag," he said, glancing up at you.

The tweet had already been retweeted hundreds of times and you could feel your anxiety rising as you thought about what this might mean for you. For your relationship.

“What do we do now?” you asked him, your voice trembling slightly.

Ben took a moment to think before responding. “I think we should just embrace it,” he said, his voice calm and reassuring. “We can't change the fact that people know now, so there's no point in trying to hide it. And honestly, I’ve been thinking about it. I don't want to have to pretend that I'm not dating the most amazing person in the world,” he added, reaching across the table to take your hand and give it a reassuring squeeze.

Despite the less-than-ideal situation, his unwavering support and affection provided you with a sense of comfort, as though everything would be alright.

As you and Ben exited the café, you couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched, even though it seemed like everyone was just minding their own business. Some pedestrians recognized Ben and pointed discreetly, while others tried to catch a glimpse of you, the mysterious girlfriend. The paparazzi were nowhere in sight, but you knew it was only a matter of time before they caught on. You wondered how you would handle the inevitable intrusion into your private life, but for now, you were content to hold Ben's hand and enjoy the moment.

As you walked down the street, Ben leaned in close to whisper in your ear. “Don't worry, we'll figure this out together,” he said, his breath warm against your skin. You turned to him and smiled, feeling grateful to have him by your side.

[ghostr0tz]

Hi! Hello, just another local Vox in the neighborhood that wanted to say he loved the disability. Headcanons, questions and thoughts on if Vox would suffer from either Cluster-B either BPD or NPD and/or Fibromyalgia. As a liver of both of these, they certainly suck, but they do add to my experience as a Vox. Also Gosh it sucks that side blogs can't ask questions. Thank you and have a good Day!

Hello!!! Thank you that means a lot that people like my silly headcanons.

I very much think Vox is cluster-b coded, but my original post was getting so long I felt too bad to add other things...... (rambles under the cut)

I said in the notes that I felt like Vox felt BPD coded but I can DEFINITELY see him having NPD as well.

He displays a lot of grandiosity and self-importance, making WALLS against his true self and his public image, or whatever kind of person he needs to be for any given scenario.

MASSIVE superiority complex. Hes got so much shit under HIS name. HIS products. HIS show. HIS company. Its all Vox.

I feel like that complex completely warps once Vox actually considers you as your own Person and not some sort of consumer to sell something to though...

I could see the break in Alastor and his relationship being a Bad Result of Vox absorbing Alastor into his grandiosity delusions and Alastor reacting badly to it. And maybe The Vee's being a Positive Result of the same thing.

Extremely fragile image of himself that is prone to fracturing with criticism. Vulnerable to those he cares about (good or bad) and takes things very personal easily as we see in Stayed Gone....

Very Copedendant to people he lets in

Hatred for Alastor being vocalized so much and so publicly due to his NPD self-importance and need for approval and attention. Unable to understand why nobody cares as much as he does about Alastor being back.

Under the lens of Vox having BPD it is so clear that Alastor was in the position of being his Favorite Person:

Vox mimicking Alastor in SEVERAL ways

Obsessing over him for years, and even their relationship break could very easily be seen as Vox splitting on Alastor? or at least to me

His immediate fixation on Alastor again once realizing hes just walking around....

I feel like Valentino and Vox fuel each other's BPD and Vox and Velvette both could have NPD together,,

His obsession over Alastor feel like a man who has yet to get over his favorite person........

Interesting to think about Alastor being his First person he obsessed over and depended on which is why hes such a touchy subject and so personal.

ALSO Vox with Fibromyalgia is VERY real and definitely can see it. Vox is some sort of chronic pain is very based i think. I just KNOWWW his legs are bad but so is literally all of his body and hes SOOOO tired of it but theres things and work to do.

I dont think hed let himself have a lot of Bad Days to nurse his pain too much unless its Genuinely unbearable or hes being physically pulled away from his desk.

Thank you for the ask i loved writing these!!

[davey-in-a-minivan]

Second Star to the left Pasithea Au??? 👀👀👀👀

okay there are actually three permutations that @munchiezxx and i discussed (listed in increasing order of my fondness for them!)--

scoutminder jane, scout sophie:

personalitywise, this one feels most obvious--sophie's got that intrepid explorer air, and jane WOULD be over-particular and stressed if she had to try to watch over sophie in a situation where she has almost no actual influence!

remember that part in pasithea season 1 where jane admits she doesn't mind hearing sophie's stories about other planets bc they're probably the closest she'll come to seeing new worlds herself? scout sophie lovingly describing her planet for the sake of jane, who they both assume will never see it, is born from that same wistfulness

like bell, scoutminder jane ONE HUNDRED PERCENT has a "criminal due to decisions of conscience" past that she drops no hints of and sophie is too self-absorbed to prod until something happens

a very funny situation made possible by this set up is that moreau is jane's on-station nemesis that she complains to sophie about and sophie's like "um are you're sure they're not flirting?? *i* think they're wildly attracted to you and it's pissing them off. you should flirt back" and jane's like "you're insane" and sophie, who finds the saga wildly entertaining, is like "jane pleeeease, im stuck on this nowhere planet, i can't start drama myself, you have to do it on my behalf, i'll literally coach you" except then one day jane gets on the radio and says "um. something very lgbt just happened between me and moreau" and sophie's like 👁👁 wait a minute (<- suddenly super jealous and BLINDSIDED by the feeling bc she literally spent weeks egging jane into this)

sometimes sophie crosses a line and jane gives her the cold shoulder, refusing to talk about anything non mission related, and sophie resorts to narrating stupid choices she's "going" to make until jane can't take any more and is like "i know you know that putting your fork in the outlet won't fix it, stop that" and sophie (who was bluffing about the fork AND the broken outlet) is like well okay fine :) 2. scoutminder sophie, scout jane:

my backstory thought here is maybe instead of jane getting thrown in prison for the ssttl-verse equivalent of the rowley conspiracy, she was "invited" to become a planetary scout

sophie would probably have an ideological faith in the institution of the scouting office (which she works for as scoutminder) that gets broken down over the course of the story

jane would freely rearrange mission priorities and modify equipment to suit her and sophie's like "for the love of god there is protocol to follow." and does jane listen? no <3

jane asks sophie to slip hieronymus cheng novels into her data download packages and sometimes she reads them out loud and sophie insists she's only half-listening and doesn't care about the plot. which is true she doesn't care about the plot!! but she loves to hear jane's voice :')

sophie also asks jane to describe her planet sometimes but she's trying so hard to picture jane, not the planet... she's like "what's the light like? is your hair up or down?"

my favorite aspect of THIS scenario is i think sophie would just wildly overshare abt her life to fill in gaps in conversation so she tells jane waaaay too much abt her love life on the station at first "for jane's entertainment" because "it's not like she's got much else going on", and then one day jane's like huh sophie hasn't told me about any of her hookups in excruciating detail recently, thank god (this is because sophie is pining horribly)

3. scoutminder jane (again), scouts sophie and george:

this one is notably different from scenario (1) bc in that one, scout sophie fills a gwen hartley-ish role; in this one she's mikhail

from sophie's pov: she finds out her planet is inhabited by a sentient species (the others!!!) and realizes that in order to protect them & humanity from each other, she has to fake her death and stay here alone. (i don't remember the name of mikhail's alien lover but THAT'S OMIKRON)

from jane's pov: sophie gets weirder and weirder over calls until jane hears another voice in the background and goes cold bc it sounds just like evelyn. and then sophie's like "yeah i need you to tell everyone i'm dead and leave me here alone with no company except my ghosts and the undead replica of the guy we both loved!!! and you have to be the only one who knows what happened to me while everyone else mourns me!!!"

meanwhile jane and moreau are having their whole haters-to-soulmates arc over the radio (remember how moreau names the egoran corpse in their closet and insists jane treat her with respect?? they would sooo anthropomorphize their bot and then condescendingly explain to it why jane is wrong during arguments)

also moreau's a xenobiologist and i just think they deserve to have a field day investigating the weird vines on their planet and jane listens to a thirty minute monologue abt the vines' growth behaviors and is like "wait why is this so endearing"

jane gets in trouble for insubordination on the station bc of course she does and moreau finally gets josephine to track down information abt jane's background, finds out abt [rowley conspiracy equivalent] and is like "oh shit. that actually makes me like her even better. shit she can't go to PRISON abt this"

i do think coordinating a long distance jailbreak by calling in favors from random ppl who are fond of jane (anders? david alegros?) is something moreau is capable of AND likely to do

so jane escapes to moreau's planet, they finally meet in person, and then sophie turns up out of fucking NOWHERE to find jane bc while moreau's been having their ssttl 'express your newly recognized feelings for your erstwhile scoutminder by breaking them out of jail and bringing them to your planet' plotline, sophie was having her pasithea s3 'i need to convince the aliens to give me a ride home' plotline

now all three of them are on a planet together and it's GOING to cause problems!! but the fun kind!!!

ANYWAY THANKS FOR ASKING!!!