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mosaickiwi · 9 months

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Nails, TV, Moving

Rendacted paints your nails and 'asks' you to move in. 1.3k words, GN reader c:

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

"Unfortunately for our contestant—" the host’s words get cut off as you press a button on the remote.

"Booooo," you jeered at the TV from your spot on the floor and changed the channel.

Ren hummed softly at your voice, but didn't look up. Despite the dark bangs that obscure their eyes, you can tell they’re focused. He was happily painting your nails—the same shade of black as his own—at your request. He insisted you sit as close as possible on the blanket he laid down, instead of across the coffee table. He'd only ever painted his own nails after all, so the angle was very important to keep him from messing up. You were certain he just said that because he wanted the closeness.

The screen barely flashes a few frames before you're changing it again. A football game, a cartoon, a drama, and then—you finally stop. There's a couple wandering through a cabin, with a disembodied voice narrating all it had to offer. One of the many house hunting shows that came on every so often.

"Oh, this one's pretty." You put down the remote to watch. The couple head upstairs where the master bedroom is and your excitement quickly dies. "Maybe not. The bathroom is a huge let down."

Ren casts a glance up at the TV as the camera pans over the room once more. He took in the slanted ceiling, with the tub stationed on the lower end, lit up by an angled skylight. He didn't really see whatever problem you had. "What's wrong with it?" he asked.

"The ceiling is already so low. You'd have to fold yourself in half to get in that tub, tall as you are. And you'd probably hit your head every time you got out. We couldn't live there," you grumbled and rested your chin on your free hand, eyes never straying from the screen. "No way I'd put you through that."

You didn't notice how he perked up when your concerns involved him—you even said ‘we.’ A miniscule drop of polish fell on the paper towel under your hand. He wasn't sure if you were being considerate, or if your perfectly normal relationship was at the point of buying a home together. He hoped it was the latter. Either way, including them already planted ideas in their mind. "So then, what's our—your ideal home have?"

"My ideal home…" You’d only really thought about things you didn’t want, thanks to your current apartment. "I can't say I'm very picky. No holes in the walls, enough room to breathe, no rats," you paused for a bit—now they were in a rather awkwardly shaped second bedroom. "When I was little I wanted to live in a bounce house. Or have a freezer dedicated to ice cream."

Ren smiled while he carefully painted the nail of your pinky. "One of those is doable."

"True, but I'd rather not blow up my house every day," you joked and continued pondering. "The location is probably the most important, right?" He silently nodded in agreement as you went on. "Corland Bay's nice and all—having everything so close together makes things easy. Except sometimes I wanna fall asleep without hearing cars pass by or Violet playing games. It's much quieter here. Plus your bed is comfy."

"You're more than welcome to live here, Angel," he innocently offered. “Although maybe you’d enjoy somewhere more secluded.”

“Like just out of town? Not too far from civilization. I'd still wanna be near the beach." You watched the couple fuss about the kitchen in another house before you really processed what he just said. You turned to look at him for the first time since the show caught your interest. "Are you asking me to move in with you?"

"Oh, is that what it sounded like?" His tone was full of shock, but you could see the way his snake bites pulled up in a faint grin. He examined your nails and lifted your hand once he deemed it finished. "I do have all this space, though. The library’s close by. Beach is a short walk away, too. No neighbors, no noise. I've never had a rat problem. I guess it hits all the marks f’you, doesn’t it, Angel?"

"Ren…" You rolled your eyes at his antics.

"If you really want to move in that badly, I'm not opposed," he said teasingly. "Other hand."

You didn't respond just yet, merely giving them a playful side eye and placing your hand flat on the table. Gently, you blew air on your wet nails while he went to work. The noise of the TV faded into the background as you thought about his offer.

It was a big step to take. You already spent a fair amount of your time at his place. The ever-dwindling amount of laundry you did at home served as proof. Cohabitating with them wouldn't be much different from now. Ren always gave you space when you asked, even with his clingy personality. He was tidy, quiet, and never made a fuss—the perfect roommate on paper. The real issue was money. A place like this would cost way more than a librarian’s salary could pay.

"As much as I want to, I have to consider rent first," you thought aloud, causing him to stop and look up.

"Angel, you don't need to pay anything." His answer was almost immediate and it surprised you how firm he sounded about it.

You shook your head. "I know I probably can't do half, but I’d like to do my fair share. How much is your rent each month?"

"Well, actually," he stalled and idly rolled the nail brush in his fingers before putting it back in the bottle. The rent was one thing he couldn’t be bothered to keep track of. "...I have no idea?"

"How—what?"

"It's an automatic payment so I never think about it," he admitted, explaining further at your incredulous expression. "I mean I definitely saw it when I found the listing—and when I signed the lease. But I can't remember it off the top of my head."

You had a hard time believing what you were hearing. You knew your own rent by heart—it mocked you every time it took a chunk out of your bank account. A question about how he budgeted weighed in your mind, although the rather calm way Ren spoke clearly answered it: he didn't. It seemed obvious now; he'd been a frivolous spender from the beginning.

The blank look on your face made him a little worried. "Honestly, Angel, it’s not an issue. I’ve been paying it on my own just fine," he insisted. "You don’t have t’worry about any cost if you stay here, I promise.” He’d be happy as a clam to pay triple whatever he already was if it meant you'd move in. Hell, he’d even pay for you to live in one of the empty units next door.

"Fine then," you sighed in defeat, glancing towards the TV screen for a moment. The show was already ending. "If I tried to give you money you'd just find a way to give it back anyways.”

Ren let out a faint breath as if he was holding back laughter, but didn’t disagree. "So, how about it? Gonna move in?” he asked with a sincere smile.

You couldn’t help but smile the same in return. “Yeah, why not? I’d be crazy to say no. I can talk to my landlord and be out in a few weeks, probably.”

His excitement only seemed to grow at your words. He was radiating silent joy, fingers tapping rhythmically on the table as he uncapped the bottle of polish once more. You could almost imagine a tail wagging behind him as he tried to make steady brushstrokes over your nail.

“Are you really that happy?” you laughed and he nodded. “Maybe I should just move in tomorrow.” His hand barely slipped, leaving the tiniest streak of polish on the side of your ring finger.

“Oops,” he muttered.

#14 days with you #14dwy #14dwy redacted #14dwy ren #momo writing #he's a lil silly #dude just yoinks more money if his account looks “low”#but low is 6 digits #your school taught financial literacy but he skipped that lesson to spy on you #bad title hehe

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aurumacadicus · 3 months

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"Miss Widow, I need you to be my partner in crime," Peter said, dropping from the ceiling. He waited for a beat, expecting a rolling of eyes or an exasperated sigh. When he received nothing but a raised eyebrow, he hesitantly asked, "Aren't you going to correct me, or..."

"It's good that you have some fear of me, Peter," Natasha told him simply. "Has the crime already occurred? If you want a body buried, ask Bruce."

"...Hmm," Peter hummed, deciding he wasn't going to unpack all that. "Mr. Hawkeye said that you're the resident matchmaker."

Natasha sat up straighter. "Oh?" she asked, raising her eyebrows at him.

Peter thrust his phone at her. "I have video evidence of Captain America being totally gone on Mr. Stark."

"Explain," Natasha said, clipped, even as she opened up his phone.

Peter did not ask how she knew his nine-digit code. Instead, he dutifully recounted, "So Mr. Stark decided we should swap playlists, ostensibly so I could listen to 'good music' but I think he wanted to see what the kids are into. I get some of my songs from TikTok and I think one of them is a bit of an ear-worm for him."

Natasha thumbed open his gallery and went directly to his last video, taking only a moment to turn the volume up. In it, she saw Tony in the common kitchen, fixing himself up a cup of coffee. He was swaying slightly like he did when he was humming. Steve was sipping a protein shake at the table, as if he was not glancing at Tony every other shift back-and-forth.

"I, wish I could synthesize, the picture perfect guy," Tony suddenly mumbled out loud, in that way he did when he had no idea his brain-to-mouth filter had stopped working. "Six, feet tall, and super strong--"

Steve perked up, sitting straight from where he'd been leaning on table.

"--We'd always get along--"

Steve flopped back onto the wood surface and took a morose sip from his protein shake.

Natasha felt her mouth drop open in shock as she watched Tony, oblivious, go back to humming and turn to leave the room. Despite Steve's obvious disappointment, it didn't stop him from tipping in his seat to be able to see Tony's ass properly.

"I'm going to kill him," Natasha decided.

"That's not the crime I wanted to be partners for," Peter cut in.

Natasha lifted her gaze to him, scowling. "He will express his feelings for Tony or die."

"...Hmm, " Peter hummed again. If he remembered correctly, both Sam and Bucky had said that Natasha expressed her affection to the people she cared about with cheesy jokes and threats to their lives. Steve would be fine, probably. "He didn't even sing the best part," he sighed instead.

Natasha slanted another sharp look toward him. "Oh yeah?"

"'He'd pick me up at eight, and not a minute later, 'cause I don't like to wait,'" Peter recited. "'Kind, and ain't afraid to cry, or treat his mama right. That's right, that's what I like.' Which, like, Captain America would rather bleed out than cry, but he doesn't sound constipated when he tells other people it's okay. Also I wish he would be less punctual," he added mulishly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Aunt May keeps raising her eyebrows at me when he shows up to pick me up for training and I'm not ready."

Natasha bit back the urge to howl in rage. Of course Tony would get a song basically about Steve stuck in his head and not notice. Of course he wouldn't notice Steve panting after him like a dog. They were both stupid. That's why she was there, though, she supposed. "I will do the actual crimes," she told Peter firmly. "And you will keep your mouth shut."

"There will be actual crime!?" Peter yelped.

Natasha ignored him, instead returning to his phone and scrolling for more blackmail on Steve. He was the weakest link in this chain of idiocy. "Keep that up, Mr. Man."

"Oh boy," Peter sighed, shoulders sagging. There was some regret in his tone.

Good. It would solidify that modicum of fear he should keep about her.

#ideas #team as family #stony

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hometoursandotherstuff · 2 months

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This unusual 1968 home in Stonington, CT feels like living in an attic. It has 1bd, 1ba, $425K.

If you're tall you basically have to walk down the middle b/c there's a pretty low clearance. This is the living area.

The living room has a cozy fireplace.

Dining area in front of the kitchen.

The kitchen is pretty big and of course, b/c of the slants in the ceiling, it doesn't have much upper shelving.

The single bedroom is a big space and has sliding doors to the deck.

Small single bath.

Also on the property is this little 2 story house.

It doesn't have a kitchen.

It's more of a guest house.

It has a nice deck, also. But you have to go outside and up the stairs to get to it.

A 3rd structure is the little building with the star on the left.

It's just a single room.

And it has a little deck in the back, too.

The stone underground building was originally a root cellar that's been converted to a wine cellar.

This is nice.

The property is .65 acre.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/66-Collins-Rd-Stonington-CT-06378/157580823_zpid/

#unusual homes #houses #house tours #home toru

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thenordroom · 1 year

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Hi! Been following you since forever, love your blog. What style did you choose for your home? What would be your "dream home"? Thanks for this AMA! :)

If you follow this blog, you may think I'll say something Scandinavian but no. I absolutely adore the homes that Heidi Caillier designs. They're colorful, warm, and packed with texture and prints. For example:

A Cozy Pied-à-Terre with Slanted Ceilings and Wallpaper

click here to see more of Heidi's homes

Something like this is my dream kitchen, click for full tour

Bold Colors in a Washington D.C. Pied-à-Terre

I also adore Spanish-style homes

It's hard to really give one example, but I love an eclectic style. Lots of textiles, warm wooden elements, beautiful tilework etc.

#ask

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bluelancess · 4 months

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Midnight Blooms | Elriel AU part 1/?

Sports romance, college AU.

Summary: When Elain is told by her father, a ruthless politician, that she is to marry the son of one of his closest friends, Lucien Vanserra, to assure her father’s win on the next election, she has no other choice but to agree. What she never expected was her convictions being tested by a tall, devastatingly beautiful black-haired hockey player who moved in right next door. And if there was one thing Elain was certain of, was that Azriel posed a dangerous threat to the previously dormant desires roaming inside her. And she needed to stay far, far away from him.

Tags: forbidden love, arranged marriage, forced proximity, modern setting, slow burn

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Read on AO3.

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Chapter 1

I never saw you coming

ELAIN

I never thought the house where I’ve only lived for a year would become the place I’d end up calling home, but here we are.

It’s a two story brick structure, with four bedrooms and two bathrooms. The kitchen is big enough for me to spend dead moments baking, and discovering new recipes, the living room is open, and gorgeous, with a somewhat high ceiling, a chimney and big windows that showcase the back patio beautifully. My favorite thing, no doubt, is the garden. The one in the back to be more exact. It is the main reason why I fell in love with this property last year when my sister Nesta, and I were hunting for a place to live during the school year.

The big patch of land was pretty much dead.

The landlord said he didn’t have time to waste planting flowers or trees, and laughed at me when I mentioned the immense potencial this place has. Right now, is unrecognizable from how it was when we moved in. I have a little vegetable garden at the far right corner, the newest addition, it has been a pain on my butt to get the flimsy vegetables to grow, but I think I’m going in a good direction.

Right below the windows, there are planters with my favorite flowers, when some of them get to big to share the space I move them into either the soil along the sides of the wooden walls separating this property from the ones beside it, or I give them their own special little planter and distribute them along the backyard's sitting area. It depends on my mood, really.

Anyway, I haven’t been here in two months, since last semester ended, and summer break began. Father has us stay with him during vacations, and holidays, and although I wanted to sneak out and come check and make sure my flowers were nice and watered, he didn’t allow it. Good thing I decided to ask Mrs. Wade to help me during the months I’d be away. Being the sweet old lady she is, she agreed in a heartbeat, only demanding I bake her some of my special chocolate chip cookies once I returned.

I’ve been anticipating coming back here so much, that feeling absolutely nothing when I do, wasn’t really what I was expecting.

Guess it has everything to do with the silly, little fact, that I’m getting married in six months.

Twenty-six weeks.

A blink of an eye, in wedding planning time.

Even worse considering I don’t even know the man I’m supposed to marry and spend the rest of my life with.

Father and his dreadful ideas you can't refuse.

“We should call the police,” Nesta says, sitting angrily at my side by the breakfast table, although her eyes remain glued to the little kitchen window, it has an excellent view to the house on the other side of the street. “Look at them! They totally sell drugs.”

She crosses her arms, and furrows her thin brows, her mouth is slanted on a grim pout. I blink, rapidly, trying to make sense of her words. I have no idea what she might be referring to, but Nesta has a reputation of hating everyone and everything that crosses her path, so I don’t take her words very seriously.

“Sure,” I reply, bringing my cup of tea to my lips for a sip. It’s cold, and doesn’t taste as good as it usually does.

How long have we been sitting here in the kitchen? We got back here at lunch time, and we've been cleaning and setting things up all afternoon. It feels like just seconds since I boiled water to have a nice cup of tea and relax a little, but considering my cup is still full, and mostly cold... I have a habit of drifting too far into my thoughts and having trouble coming back.

“I’m serious, Elain.” She insists. “It would be just our luck to end up being neighbors with…” she points at them with a firm and accusing finger, “jerks like that.”

I look out the window, and my lips part when I see the reason of my sister's fury.

Three guys. All tremendously tall, broad shoulders, dark hair, tattoos covering their tan skin. All of them, shirtless, wearing low rise sweat pants, laughing and playing around like little kids on the front yard, bottles of beer in their hands.

“Who was the owner of that house, again?” Nesta asks, still not turning around to look at me. “Didn’t our landlord mention he knew them? Maybe he can get me their number, I’m sure a call would solve this.”

“I don’t see the problem,” I say and she lets out a tiny, frustrated groan. “They’re just guys. It might be nice to have someone our age living near us, for the first time in forever.”

“You say that now, but when you can’t sleep because of the noise they’ll make throwing parties… then you’ll agree with me.”

“You like parties.” I point out.

“Not when I want to rest.” Nesta points out. "You're so unbothered because your bedroom isn't the one looking out into the street."

Her bad mood makes me smile a little. What can possibly be bothering her so much? She loves male company most of the time.

“Are you sure that’s really the problem here?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Now she looks at me, with liquid fire in her eyes at the accusation. I giggle. She might think she is hiding her true feelings well, but I know her better than she’d like to admit. She's spent all summer away from men because father would be furious if he found out one of his daughters is sleeping around, the tabloids would go crazy if it got leaked to the press, and he'd probably cut her allowance off. Which is why she behaved.

But father is not here. And if some guy is stupid enough to not recognize my sister as the eldest daughter of our soon to be governor, then it is fair game for her.

“What are you guys talking about?” Feyre asks, coming into the kitchen wearing a knitted sweater and denim shorts.

“Nesta is drooling over those guys.”

“I'm absolutely not!” Nesta says, standing up to point towards the window, moving the think, embroidered curtain to a side, to show Feyre the show. “I’m just saying that they don’t look like the kind of guys you want to have as your neighbors. They probably cook meth in the basement.”

Feyre’s mouth opens and her eyes follows the three muscled man like a hungry beast following their prey. When she notices this, she shakes her head and takes a step back, awkwardly walking towards the fridge to retrieve a chilled bottle of water.

“They’re fine… I mean, they don’t look like meth dealers,” she says, and clears her throat. “How come you guys never mentioned you had such hot guys living only a couple feet away, huh?”

“Because we didn’t.” Nesta says, looking out of the window again, I’m pretty sure she’s giving them her signature death stare. “The house was empty last semester.”

Feyre shrugs.

“I don’t see the problem.” She brings the bottle water to her lips, peeking through the window once more.

“That’s what I said.”

“You two are too naive.” Nesta says, and then in a flash, her back straightens, and her shoulders tense. “Motherfucker.” She mutters, shaking her head from once side to the other so violently, the braid on the top of her hair looses a bit. “I know who these idiots are!”

“What?” I ask, standing up from the table, to peek at the window with them. Feyre is pretending not to be as intrigued as she is, and Nesta is just spewing curses. “Who are they?”

“The fucking hockey players, you know, the Night Beasts. Won the hockey tournament last year, or whatever it is called.” She says, and right as the words come out of her mouth, one of the guys, the tallest one, with shoulder length dark brown hair, half of it put up on a messy man bun, looks straight at us, the mischievous smile in his face only growing. “Is he looking at us?” Nesta lowers her voice as if she spoke a little louder he might listen, and the three of us freeze in place.

“Can he even see us?” Feyre asks.

“The window is glass, of course he can see us, Feyre.”

"I meant from that far."

And then, after a beat, the guy blows us a kiss and Nesta seems to me fuming at the ears.

“Cocky bastard,” she says, closing the curtain and grabbing our arms to get us away from the scene of the crime. “That’s it. I’m kicking them out.”

“You can’t kick them out, it’s not your house.” Feyre says, leaving the water bottle on top of the breakfast table, looking at me with concern. Neither of us really understands exactly what has Nesta so riled up, but she’s not listening to reason right now, and she most definitely won’t stop until all the anger boiling inside her disappears.

“What are you going to do?” I ask, following her with quick steps towards the main entry of our house. She rapidly puts on some shoes, fixes her braid, and storms out the house with a very scary aura surrounding her.

“Should we go too?” Feyre asks at my right. “She might kill them.”

“She won’t kill them,” I assure her, not sounding sure at all.

“Hey, you assholes! This is a family neighborhood.” We both hear her scream, and come to the silent agreement that yes, we should probably go stop her. Feyre moves faster than I do, crossing the threshold in three long, clean steps.

“Hey, there!” The tall guy says, waving a hand at us. “Maybe you should get binoculars next time, my abs are more impressive up close. That is, if you don’t have the balls to actually cross the street, our door is always open.”

“Don’t be a jerk, Cassian.” One of the guys say, he’s the shortest of the three, not less handsome, his torso also covered in dark ink, hair short, and perfectly combed. He looks friendlier than his friend. As soon as I join my sisters, I notice that Feyre’s feet are glued to the floor, her stare unmoving from the new guy’s face, and when he notices my sister, his eyes glisten at the attention, his smirk grows, and then he has the audacity to wink at her.

Feyre’s cheeks turn rosy pink, but she rolls her eyes.

“This is me being polite, Rhys,” Cassian replies, not breaking the eye contact with my sister, and hey, props to him for having the balls to face Nesta, not many have survived.

“Ladies, I’m sorry my brother here has the manners of a brute,” Rhys says, walking slowly to the side of the street, right where their front yard ends.

“I couldn’t care less about your brothers manners,” Nesta says. “This is a residential street, parties or loud noises after ten p.m are not allowed. And you don’t look like the kind of guys that live a very… quiet life. So, pack your shit up, and find somewhere else to live.”

“Nesta…” Feyre warns.

“Wait,” The Cassian guy says, pointing at my sister with one of his fingers. “I remember you.”

“What?” Nesta says, and I approach my sister until I’m standing next to Feyre.

Cassian laughs, throwing his head back as he does, like he can’t really contain it. “Don’t play dumb, now.”

“You don’t know me.” Nesta states as a fact.

“Oh, I know you,” he shoots back. “Very well, I might add.”

Nesta arches a brow. And the tension between them is so strong, it’d probably give you whiplash if it cut in half.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The alley behind Elysian the last week of February? Ring any bells?” He teases her, and I chew the inside of my cheeks, watching their word war is like waiting for a grenade to explode.

Now it makes more sense why Nesta was so riled up by the presence of these men. She would’ve never admitted it to us, though. Not if we tried to pry the truth out of her with the worst kind of torture. She’s closed off like that when it comes to the men she dates, or sleeps with. Dating is not really on her dictionary.

“Seems like you have it committed to memory,” She teases him back, and Feyre looks at me surprised, biting her lower lip to keep herself from laughing. “Can’t say the same, I don’t waste time remembering guys who are… underwhelming, to say the least.”

Cassian’s confident smile disappears in a blink.

“You gave me a fake phone number, you know?” He tells her, like he’s wanted to say that to her for months, but never had the chance.

“Oh, I did?” Nesta feigns innocence. “Guess I couldn’t be bothered to remember my real one.”

Feyre chuckles beside me, then clears her throat. “We should go back inside.”

“I’m done here, anyway,” Nesta says, turning around on her heels. But before she can fully go back to the house, she says to them, lifting a single finger in the air: “One transgression to my rules, and I’m calling the police.”

“You’ll be joining in on the fun soon, gorgeous, don’t worry,” Cassian tells her, his confidence is back in place, like Nesta never gave a life threatening punch to his ego.

“In your dreams, asshole.”

“Believe it or not, my dreams come true all the time,” he tells her. “Mostly the dirty ones.”

Nesta rolls her eyes, and goes back inside of the house, closing the door with a bang.

“Sorry about that, my sister can be… a little intense.” Feyre says.

Cassian looks over Feyre's shoulder, like he's hoping to get one final glimpse of Nesta. “Just how I like them.”

“Cass,” Rhys warns and Cassian shuts his mouth, then Rhys turns his attention to feyre. “We won’t bother you. Much.”

“Oh, don’t worry about us,” Feyre says, also turning back around to go inside the house. “It’s Nesta the one you want to keep… content.”

“Will do,” Cassian replies, fast as lighting, like he’s accepting a challenge and he hasn’t even realized it yet.

“Good luck with that.”

Feyre takes a couple steps towards the porche, and knocks on the door. Nesta completely forgot we were outside with her when she decided to do her grand exit.

I’m about to follow my sister, when a new, rich, and velvety voice that we hadn’t heard before reaches my ears.

“We are throwing a little get-together tomorrow night,” he says. I look up at the sound, and my mouth dries at the sight of the man in front of us, my breath catches and my heart pounds so fast, all I can hear is the frantic heartbeats. High cheekbones, and a boyish grin on his face. Short dark hair like his friends, but a little messier. I hadn’t noticed him before, standing on the porche, like hidden by the shadows. Now, he’s all I can see. “You should come.”

“Azriel is right, you should come. It’ll be something small, I promise,” Rhys says, also walking back towards the house, putting one hand on top of the shoulder of his friend. “A one time thing, even. To kick start the year. I’m sure your sister won’t mind if it’s a Friday, correct?”

Azriel.

He looks down at his sneakers, but there’s a tiny smirk on his lips, the right side of his mouth lifting up slightly more than the left. Then his eyes look up again, directly at me, and my knees buckle, like they want to give in at the heavy weight of my body. God, he’s beautiful.

Beautiful, like it should be forbidden, illegal, to be.

Men like him don’t exist in real life. They just don’t.

And it is so unfair, so unfair, that he happens to live so close.

“Will there be booze?” Feyre asks, and Rhys smiles at her.

“What kind of booze do you prefer?”

She takes a couple seconds to answer, chewing on her lower lip, gloating at the way the guy can’t keep his eyes off of her.

“I really like wine.” She replies. “Good wine, though.”

“I’ll get you the best.”

She smiles even broadly.

“Great,” Feyre knocks on the door one more time, and it opens with an angry force, I chuckle when I see Nesta walking away with heavy and furious steps towards the stairs. “I’ll bring my boyfriend.”

And then Rhys is not smiling anymore.

“Come on, Elain.” She tells me and I giggle. “Wanna order pizza for dinner?”

“Sure.” I turn around and wave at them. “Goodnight.”

Rhys and Cassian grunt, twin annoyed grimaces in their faces.

But Azriel... he smiles at me.

And then waves back softly.

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hi! thank you so much for reading! I've been wanting to write an ACOTAR fanfic in a modern setting for so long, and i finally have the time (and the ideas) to do it, so i really appreciate you taking the time to read it! I will be updating it as i go, i hope to post regularly, so we'll see!

i´m also posting this on AO3, so it'd be great if you guys could go support me there as well! <3

ps. i always say this, but english isn't my first language, so i apologize if there are any mistakes<3

#elriel #elriel AU #elriel fanfic #pro elain #pro elriel #pro azriel #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x elain #elain x azriel #feysand #elriel college sport romance AU

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lullabyes22-blog · 3 months

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Snippet - Grief - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

A half remembered promise broken...

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Snippet:

It was only afterward, when dawn's light slanted through the shutters, that the tears came.

"Fuck." Sevika's breath jittered. "Not again."

Silco said nothing. Just held her, awkwardly, as the sobs began. By now, he understood. She wasn't crying for him. Wasn't even crying for herself. It was an ache so far down, words couldn't give it shape. The best he could do was listen.

He'd learned how, with Nandi.

"I'm sorry," Sevika breathed. "This was a shit idea."

"You think so?"

"Fuck, no."

She fitted herself against the sinewy curvature of his body. Watery sunrays slid across the bedspread, nearly touching their twined legs. His fingertips traced the smooth dip above her hipbone. She had none of her sister's softness. But she had her strength. Silco liked strong bodies: the muscles, the scars. Proof of a lifetime's work, and the toll it takes.

Sevika's was young in those days. But the marks were already indelible. There’d be many more before the end.

And he'd be the cause of most.

"I miss her," she said. "I miss her, and she'd hate it."

"Hate what?"

"Seeing me like this." She wiped her webbed lashes. "Seeing me with you."

"She's past seeing." He felt a tremor, and circled her close. "What? It’s true."

"It’s not, Sil. The dead, they're always with us." Her head tipped back, eyes on the ceiling. "Sometimes, I hear her footsteps in the kitchen. I'll be in bed, just waking up. Still rubbing the grit from my eyes. And she'll come floating in, with that glide of hers, holding a cup of tea." Her throat worked. "That's what she’d make me every morning: a cup of tea. She'd put it on the bedside table, nudge me awake, and then go off to the Temple. And I'd lay there, listening to her footsteps in the hall. Waiting for the door to shut, so I could sneak a smoke with the window cracked."

"She knew you smoked in here?"

"She was deaf, not blind. But she let me do it. Said it kept the bugs out." She exhaled a too-wet laugh. "Now the whole place is crawling with roaches. There's stacks of dishes in the sink. Dust on everything. Nothing in the pantry. It's a shithole, and I can't stand to sleep here alone. But… I don’t want to move anywhere else, either. I always thought we'd grow old here. We'd die together. In this flat. On this bed."

"Like invalids?"

"Like sisters." She lay a palm against his chest, learning the cadence of his heart. "You’ve never had any, have you?"

"No." Silco was quiet a moment. "Just brothers."

"Vander."

"Before. Long ago." His fingertips stroked, lightly, up the vertebra of her spine. "I barely remember anymore. Except for the dirt. The hunger. The cold. I never gave a damn about dying in a bed. All I wanted was not to die at all."

"You haven't changed much."

His palm found the nape of her neck, and rested there. "I’ve no plans to."

"Hope so." She smiled, crescent-shaped, against the damp crook of his neck. "Hope you’ll always stay the same hard-driving bastard from the mines. With a bergamot in his pocket and a big speech for everything." Her eyes met his, darkly sheened. "Don't change, Sil."

"If death's the alternative, I'll do my best." He cupped her chin. "What about you?"

"Same." She bit the hollow of his palm. "Just a good-time girl from Oldtown. No money, but a mean right hook."

"Meanest in the Lanes."

"It's all my old man left me." Her eyes slid to the window. Daylight was cutting through the slats: the night was slipping away. "He was a piece of shit. Not always, mind. When Amma was alive, he was decent. Couldn't help himself. She was like Nandi, you see. Soft. Shining. Brought out the best in everybody."

"He loved her?"

"More than life. That was his endearment for her. Jaan. It's from the old country. Means life. He'd sit there at the fighting pits, the big brute, with bloody knuckles and a split lip. But the minute she floated into the stands, he'd be all mush. Like a little kid. You should've seen him." Her laugh vibrated against Silco's skin. "She spoke the language of the mystics. Same as Nandi. When she'd go to the Temple, he'd wait outside on the steps. All respectful, like a foot soldier. When she came out, he'd have little gifts for her from the market. Offerings, almost. Jasmine buds to braid into her hair. Cheap stone rings. Little sachets of perfumed incense. Sometimes, a book, so she could read to him. Her folk were lettered. She had a calligrapher's hand, and a scholar's fluency. Evenings, she'd teach us all: me, Rohan, Nandi. My old man, too. He couldn't pen more than his name, but he'd hang on her every word. Like the rest of us did. It's what she deserved." Sevika shut her eyes. "Then she died birthing Raakesh. And everything decent in my old man died too."

Silco thought of Mother, and her slow unspooling into madness after Daddy's drowning.

"Grief does that," he murmured. "It finds the cracks—and splits them wide." His palm smoothed a soothing path: her shoulderblades, her spine, the small of her back. "You were young when your father turned."

"Old enough to remember the difference." She nestled closer, her knees curling. "You couldn't unsee it. Nobody could. It was like an open wound. It bled all over. He bled all over too. With his brawls, and his bottles, and his fists. In the streets, he'd take it out on whoever crossed his path. At home, he'd take it out on us. Me and Nandi. Rohan. Sometimes even Raakesh, and he wasn't more than a tot." Her jaw gritted. "That was the worst. Seeing the fear in his eyes when our old man shambled home. The same eyes Amma had. She passed 'em down to all her children—and he couldn't look at them without losing his mind. Every day, we were a reminder of who was missing. A slap in the face. So he'd dish one out in kind."

"Nandi protected you."

"In more ways than I can count."

"And now, you're trying to do the same."

"Huh?"

Silco's thumb found the notch of her chin, and tipped her head up. Her eyes were a bloodshot well. "You think I'm on a self-destructive tear. Same as your father."

Her lips parted, quivering. Then: a sigh. "I know what grief does, too. Especially when it's not just grief."

"Meaning?"

"I told you. There's too much rage in you, and no place to put it." She lay her palm over his heart. "Nandi knew. She could tell right off. She tried to keep the worst of it at bay. She'd soothe you, and talk to you, and hold you. That was her gift, seeing into the hearts of people. Knowing what they needed. But her gift couldn't fix this. Couldn't fix you. She could only stanch the bleeding." Her fingers curled, as if capturing his heartbeat. "Now she's gone. And you've got nothing to hold you back. No one."

Silco said nothing. He only took her hand, and held it.

"I know," Sevika goes on, "what everyone says. How she was better than me, and all the rest. The good one. The pretty one. The patient one. But that didn't get her anywhere, did it? I'm the one still here."

"So you are."

"You are too." She blinked hard. But a tear slipped loose against her will. "You're all that's left. Of her. Of any of it."

His thumb traced the teardrop's path. "You've got it backwards, love."

"No. It's true. You're more like her than I'll ever be. You both had that specialness, that—I don't know. That grace. Like you were from a different world. Like you could change ours, with just a whisper. Vander's got it too. Only his burns bright as the sun. Yours… it's something else. Something down deep." Her lips were dry. They caught against his, like the words. "Don't lose it, Sil."

He gave her nape a firm squeeze. "I won't if you won't."

"I'm serious. When we take the fight Uppside, you've got to keep it wired. Don't go off the rails." She gripped him fiercely. "I'm no good with words, but I've got two fists. They're yours, as long as you don’t lose your head." Her voice cracked. "Don’t lose it. Promise me."

#arcane #arcane league of legends #silco #arcane silco #forward (never forget)/xoxo #forward but never forget/xoxo #nandi #arcane zaun #arcane piltover #sevilco #silco x sevika

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megamindsecretlair · 11 months

Text

It's a Little Warm, Part 3

Pairing: Bucky x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. There is some making out, unresolved sexual tension! There's finally smut. Oral, fem receiving. Slight domination. Cursing. Mild age gap. Reader is late 20s and Bucky is mid 30s. Part 3 of 5. Slow burn to smut though. Some sentences are intentional AAVE.

Summary: Sam Wilson is your play uncle and has invited you and Bucky to stay at a cabin with him, Sarah, and the kids. After your episode, you were ordered to rest. Of course, you don't. Your light goes out and you are in the middle of replacing it when Bucky catches you.

Word Count: 2,948k

Read Part 1 | Read Part 2 | Read Part 4 | Read Part 5

A/N: I wanted to include the dinner, but it would've made this too long and I've got some chores to get to. LOL. So enjoy this bit and hopefully I can get to part 4 soon! Any mistakes are mine. While likes are awesome, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers!

Okay, so you lied. You said that you weren’t going to get any work done. But you were never good at following your own rules. You know the person who set them and she’s full of shit. So, even though you were supposed to be resting after your little episode and getting ready for dinner tonight, you were on your laptop researching your latest article.

You hummed as you searched through other articles, the company website, and social media posts. The light above you flickered again, giving you a mild headache. Stupid cabin.

As soon as you thought that, the light flickered once more and died dropping you into partial darkness.

“Shit,” you said. You looked up as if that solved anything. It did not. You pushed away from the desk, grumbling to yourself. The ceiling was too high for you to look into the issue right away. The chair swiveled so you didn’t feel comfortable standing on it. You looked around the room for a piece of furniture you could move easily.

You stomped your foot once, letting yourself have one freakout. You took a deep breath. You were a big girl and you could handle this.

First, you opened the curtain and blinked through the harsh afternoon light. You hadn’t realized that the day had passed you by. You sucked your teeth thinking about how everyone fawned all over you like you were some dainty, newborn lamb. It was low iron. They acted like you had split your head open.

But no, they wouldn’t let you rejoin the festivities until you took it easy and ate. Once you ate, Uncle Sam and Bucky double teamed you, making you go take a nap and relax. Bunch of babies.

The light slanting into the room highlighted dust motes swirling in the air. It was enough to brighten the room but not really enough to continue working by. So you definitely needed a new lightbulb. You figured everyone was still outside enjoying the sun.

You opened the door, straining your ears for any signs of life in the house. Finding none, you slipped on your house slippers and padded down the stairs. You felt silly sneaking around for a lightbulb. But you’re not an invalid and bothering someone for something so small was unappealing. Plus, you had changed into a long red shirt.

“I am an adult,” you chanted over and over under your breath. Still, you hurriedly searched the kitchen for a spare lightbulb. There was a pantry towards the back. You checked it and found a stash of spare supplies. There was rope, a flare, batteries, and lightbulbs. You snatched a box and closed the pantry door softly.

Your heartbeat thumped loudly in your chest. Sneaking around made every sound too loud, every feeling too big, and hidden shadows creep in your peripheral vision. You ran up the stairs with your treasure, entered your room, and pushed the door with a silent breath.

Step one done. You still needed a way to get to the ceiling. While you were able to get away with the light bulb, you doubted Bucky’s super hearing wouldn’t have heard the scrape of a metal ladder.

The nightstands weren’t tall enough. There was a vintage trunk dresser at the end of the bed, but it was too short as well. Crap. Desk it is. You lifted the long shirt you had on past your legs so you had more movement. You pulled on the desk’s leg until it started to move. You thanked your lucky stars for the plush carpet beneath your feet to muffle the sounds.

You pulled it far enough to reach the ceiling comfortably. You climbed on top and removed the bowl protecting the bulb. You bent down low to place it on the desk, next to your laptop.

There was no rush, but adrenaline still coursed in your veins. You felt like you were going to get caught at any point. “I am an adult. Nobody can tell me shit,” you told yourself.

You replaced the faulty lightbulb, having to stand on your tiptoes for a bit of it, to make sure that it was screwed in correctly. Satisfied, you leaned over to grab the ornate bowl.

“Hey, doll, just coming to check on you.” Bucky pushed into your room since you never closed the door all the way. You squealed and wobbled on your way to standing.

Bucky called your name and he was there, his hands locking around your thighs like vice grips. You still kind of wobbled but you found your footing. You clutched the bowl to your chest and yelped.

“What the hell?” Bucky yelled.

“The hell were you thinking?” You demanded. “Why didn’t you knock?”

“I did!”

Your heart beat so loudly and you felt dizzy. You almost fell and broke your neck. Anger suffused you. The overbearing prick.

As you breathed steadily to calm your heartbeat, you realized that Bucky still had his hands on your thighs. On your bare thighs. You looked down. Bucky looked at you as if he wanted to strangle you.

But it also occurred to him that he held his hands around your fleshy thighs. His breaths fanned across and as his eyes slowly tracked down to take in every inch of you.

“Finish what you were doing,” he said, his voice a deep rumble.

You licked your lips and took a deep breath. You could barely think as you lifted the bowl and twisted it back into place.

“Get down here,” he said. You squatted down, feeling his hands still on you, getting higher to steady your sides and your lower back. You sat down on the desk and Bucky was there to crowd your space.

He pushed in between your thighs and got closer. He was on fire. He smelled and felt like outside, as if he brought the heat in with him. He wore a short-sleeved blue shirt and dark jeans. He placed his hands on either side of you, staring into your eyes with furrowed brows and his lips pursed.

“What the hell were you thinking?” He asked.

“The lightbulb went out,” you said.

“Why didn’t you come grab one of us? Oh wait, you didn’t want to be a bother right?” Bucky answered his own question so you saw no need to answer.

Yes, you didn’t want to be a bother. You never did. You made a career out of being low maintenance and you weren’t going to change now. But also…

“I am an adult, James. If I need to change a lightbulb, I’m capable of it,” you said.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed at your use of his given name. If you were rational, you’d recognize that you royally messed up. Irrationally, your thighs began to tingle and your pussy started to throb. You remembered that while Bucky was a good guy, he was still lethal.

“You wanna run that by me again?”

You swallowed hard and shook your head. Bucky smirked, but it was not a pleasant one. He brought his right hand up to caress your face. He grabbed your face, pinching your cheeks and making your full lips poke out.

“You want me to stop?” He asked.

He only gave you an inch to move. You shook your head. “Words, doll,” he said.

“Don’t stop,” you whispered.

“Why did you think it was a good idea to climb onto a desk to change a light bulb?”

“I’m short, we climb everything,” you said. Now wasn’t the time to be cheeky, but it was the truth. You’d been climbing on top of furniture and sinks and step stools since you were younger.

Bucky leaned forward and pressed his forehead to yours. “What if you fell?”

“I’ve been doing this my whole life. If I fall, it’s because you startled me.”

Bucky suddenly chuckled, switching tactics. “I guess I didn’t make myself clear earlier. You don’t have to do everything yourself anymore. You can rely on people to help,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. Bucky rubbed your face from where he held it to let you speak.

“We’re only here for a week. If it makes you feel better, I’ll ask for help more while we’re here,” you said. There. That was a good compromise.

Bucky licked his bottom lip and smirked at you. “A week is not remotely long enough to play with you.”

“What?” You whined. Your thighs tried to close but he still stood in between your legs. You needed some type of relief. He was driving you crazy and he hadn’t touched you yet.

“Did you think we’d be done after this week? That you’d go back home and we never saw each other again?”

“No? I mean, I figured I’d still see you when we all got together, but…”

Bucky leaned forward and kissed you. His lips moved expertly over yours. His tongue rolled lazily around yours. He sucked on your bottom lip before pulling away.

“I’m not giving you up, doll. You’d have to beat me away with a stick,” he said.

Your tummy flipped and fresh arousal leaked out of you. You throbbed painfully, your pussy clenching and unclenching. He gave you a heart-stopping smile.

“Bucky, that’s not…sustainable,” you said.

“You let me worry about that,” he said.

You smiled nervously. “Bucky…”

He dropped his head and kissed you again. He brought his right hand up to cradle your jaw. He kissed your lips, the corner of your mouth, and then your neck. Your hands came around his shoulders and lightly rubbed him. You giggled. He hadn’t shaved yet and his stubble was rougher and it tickled your neck.

“If the next words out of your mouth aren’t, ‘yes, Bucky’, then I don’t want to hear it,” he said.

You bit the inside of your cheek, prepared to defy him. He brought his left hand to squeeze your hip, making you jerk.

The movement also made your shirt ride up. You were wearing the same thing you had on last night. When he stopped you from going further. His eyes darkened as he got a sneak at your panties.

“I can take care of that for you,” he said. He blinked at you, showing off those deep blue eyes.

Your chest noticeably moved up and down as you grew more and more excited. “Yes, Bucky,” you said.

Bucky grinned. He left your embrace to close the door. He flipped the lock and a thrill of desire shot through you. Then, he stepped back to you, claiming your lips and cradling your head in his hands. He moved you where he wanted. He angled your face to allow him to kiss you deeper.

He made your head fuzzy from how well he kissed. He pushed in between your legs, rubbing his thick bulge into the core of you. The rough denim scratched at your thighs and you moaned into his mouth.

He picked you up and you yelped. Your arms came around his neck and held on for dear life. He chuckled at your reaction and licked your neck.

He tossed you on the bed and you bounced once. He descended on top of you, pressing you firmly into the mattress. He kissed you and your neck, down to your collarbone. He groaned as he palmed your breasts through the t-shirt you wore.

You moaned and licked your lips, the anticipation driving you wild. He grabbed your legs and pushed them open, revealing your panties in full. Your cheeks warmed a bit.

“Do you always wear these?” He asked. His voice was a breathless baritone.

“Yes,” you admitted. Your secret weakness was sexy lingerie. Though you didn’t have anyone that would see them, you liked feeling sexy. You liked wearing completely ordinary clothes like jeans, shorts, or dresses but had on something filthy underneath. It made you feel good so you walked tall.

“You had these last night?” He asked.

“A version. I shower, like a normal person,” you said. Bucky bent down and bit your thigh. Hard. You cried out.

“Smart ass.” He groaned though. Maybe he was thinking of what he pushed away last night. Good. You liked knowing that you were capable of driving him insane. Bucky lowered his head to rest against your lower tummy, his nose right at the center of you.

He breathed deeply and groaned again. “I wish we had more time. I was supposed to collect you for dinner,” he said.

You tried to sit up but Bucky pressed his left metal arm onto your chest and pushed you back down.

“No, I’m going to enjoy this while I can,” he said. Before you could ask what the hell he was on about, Bucky dropped to his knees and licked your panties.

“Oh god,” you said and rolled your eyes.

He pressed his nose in further, pushing your panties to rub in-between your pussy lips. He moved the gusset out of the way, and rubbed it between two fingers.

“Oh, doll. And you’re soaked. All for me?” He asked.

“Yes, Bucky,” you whined.

Bucky growled in satisfaction. He attacked you. His lips suckled your clit and you bucked off of the bed. His left arm pushed you back down, with enough force to leave no room for movement.

He swirled your clit with his tongue, lapping up every last drop of your pussy juices. He licked one long stripe from your vagina to your clit. Then he really went to town. He flicked his tongue back and forth. His rapid flicks had you seeing stars. You slid your hands into his hair and pulled.

“Pull harder, doll,” he said.

You pulled harder like he demanded and he growled. He returned to your pussy, licking and sucking. Desire pooled in your lower belly. You felt ready to reach that peak, you were climbing higher and higher.

Your thighs started to close. Bucky took his right hand and used his finger to tease your opening. You were so slick, you were sure he would slide right in without issue. He dipped his finger in and he cooed.

“I’m gonna have to stretch this out before I take you, doll,” he said into your pussy. His lips brushed your clit as he spoke.

Your thighs wrapped around his head involuntarily. You were so damn close. He just needed to keep…going…just…

He stopped. “Wait, no,” you cried.

You leaned up to look at Bucky. His beard was dripping with spit and your juices. It was filthy and dirty and so fucking hot you almost came from the sight. He gave you that smile you loved so much.

He kissed both of your inner thighs, leaving sloppy wet kisses there.

“That’s what you get for being stubborn. For thinking you were going to get away from me after this week.”

“Wait, please. I’ll do better. Please,” you panted.

Bucky stood up anyway and found your towel. He licked his lips for one last taste and wiped his face.

He leaned down and teased your lips, getting close to kissing you and then pulling back at the last minute. You smelled yourself on his lips and leaned forward trying to taste it.

“You get through this dinner like my good little doll and I’ll let you come after,” he said.

“Bucky, please. I’ll do anything,” you begged.

Bucky only grinned. “Begging doesn’t work on me either.”

He gave you a quick, punishing kiss before he stood up and smacked your pussy.

“Better hurry. You know Sam is greedy as hell,” he said. As he turned to leave, he pushed your desk back where it belonged. And that fucker really left the room.

He left you there a cold, wet mess. A cold, wet, unfulfilled mess. You dropped your head back on to the bed, staring at the ceiling, not ready to believe what the hell just happened.

That peak was long gone, snatched from you at the last minute. You got up, not wanting someone to pass by and see what a mess you made. You stood on shaky legs and headed towards the bathroom to get cleaned up.

You cursed him ten ways from Sunday. If he thought he would get away with that, he was sorely mistaken. You were going to drive him just as crazy. You grinned evilly as you washed up and headed to your room. You heard him moving in his room. The kids were in their room arguing.

Uncle Sam called out something so you knew he was headed up. You went to your room and closed the door this time. You found the sexiest pair of lingerie you could find in your suitcase. Then, you found a dress you were saving for your girl’s day with Aunt Sarah. The plan was to have a relaxing day away from the boys for a bit. Let them do whatever it was that men did. Spit, fart, and scratch their ass, you guessed.

It was a dark orange dress with giant flowers on it. It was modest enough to wear around the general public, but made your legs and ass look fantastic. As you shimmied into it, you wondered how many ways you could tease Bucky until he caved. Until he couldn’t take it anymore. Until he got that silly little notion out of his head, that he could deny you your release.

He was going to pay. You put on strappy sandals and fixed your makeup, going for a soft, innocent look. You smiled into the mirror when you were done. Hell, you brought your vibrator. Maybe you’d fuck yourself to climax tonight and make him listen.

Read Part 1 | Read Part 2 | Read Part 4 | Read Part 5

#marvel smut #megaminds secret files #The Secret Bucky Files #bucky x black!reader #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky x Black Reader #bucky x plus size reader #bucky x fem! reader #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #fanfic #marvel fanfic #It's a Little Warm Series

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