Jump to content
Aveyond Studios Community
rosetyler

rosetyler's Assorted AV1 Short fics

Recommended Posts

I Know

Characters:
Rhen D., Lars T.

Idea: I got the idea from a prompt (from Tumblr). The minute I read the prompt I just went, omg, that's totally Rhen x Lars. hehe! so here’s something I wrote under half an hour...

Note: Might be mushy...
 
Prompt:
One time when i was a little drunk and laying in bed with a guy, i kissed his neck and mumbled “i could beat the shit out of you” in his ear.

​He said “i know”

---

Rhen couldn’t hold her liquor, but she wasn’t about to tell anybody that. Especially not to Lars, who had a knowing smirk on his face.

“Give it to me,” she ordered.

Elini poured her a tiny glass of Veldt’s best and handed it to her. Rhen snatched it and gave it a careful sniff.

“Chicken,” Lars said.

“Shut up,” she retorted, narrowing her eyes at the deep red liquid.

“You have to take it all in one swig to enjoy its maximum flavour,” Elini said helpfully.

“I know,” Rhen replied. She took a deep breath and slowly brought the glass to her lips. On the other side of the table, Lars turned to Te'ijal and Galahad. “She won’t be able to do it. She’s a pansy,” Lars told them. The vampire just smiled, amused by the spectacle in front of her.

Rhen glared at Lars. “Shut up. I’ll do it. Just watch me.”

“Rhen, don’t…” Dameon warned.

“Sure. Go ahead,” Lars interrupted condescendingly, failing to control the laughter bubbling at his lips.

Determined to wipe that smug smirk from his face, Rhen tilted her head back and took the liquor in one shot. She forced herself to swallow the rich, bitter liquid, wincing internally as it burned her throat. When she was done, she slammed the empty glass down on the table in front of her and gave her companions a victorious smile.

They stared back at her, mouths agape.

“Did she just -” Lars started.

“See. Told you I could do it. Look who’s the chicken now,” Rhen said childishly.

Her companions did not reply. They continued their open-mouthed stares, with the exception of Lars, whose mouth opened and closed as a goldfish’s mouth would. Rhen frowned disapprovingly at their silence.

“What, no ‘Wow, that’s amazing, Rhen!’, no ‘We’re sorry we ever doubted you, Rhen!’?” she cried. Rhen crossed her arms huffily. “I can hold my liquor just fine, thank you very much.”

The awkward silence continued.

Lars side-eyed Elini and the demon-summoner shrugged. Annoyed with the silence, Rhen clucked her tongue. “What is it? Never seen a sword singer drink? Well, congratulations, you have!”

When she got no reply, Rhen sighed.

“What is it with all of you? Fine. Stay silent, I don’t care. But what is it with this Veldtian weather? It’s so hot, I feel like a piece of roasted meat. I need a bath,” she said, rising unsteadily. Rhen lost her balance and fell back on the couch, groaning.

“The human does not look too good,” Te'ijal chimed in.

“Nonsense. I’m fine.”

Dameon went to her side. “Rhen, how are you feeling?”

Rhen waved the sun priest away and giggled. “I said, I’m fine. You know what’s not fine? What’s not fine is your hair, Dameon. Your hair’s not fine.”

Dameon turned red and Lars burst out into laughter.

“What is so funny,” Rhen slurred, pouting. She made another attempt to get up from the couch. Lars also rose from his seat and quickly wrapped his arm around her waist before she fell.

“You definitely can't hold your liquor,” he said, still laughing.

“You’re so mean,” she mumbled.

“Sorcerer, please take her to my guestroom before she empties her stomach’s contents all over us,” Elini said humourlessly as she refilled the empty glass. Te'ijal nodded, reaching for the drink. “Dishonour!” she drawled jokingly.

Still laughing, Lars half-supported, half-dragged Rhen into one of Elini’s spare bedchambers. Her legs failed her during the final steps and she crumpled to the ground in a heap.

“Get up,” Lars said. When Rhen made no response he rolled his eyes. He reached for her and carried her over his shoulder.

“You’re so funny, Lars,” she said suddenly.

“Mm,” he replied, almost inaudibly. He carried her to the bed.

Arms tightly wrapped around his neck, Rhen refused to let go when Lars tried to dump her on the bed. Struggling, he lost his balance and they landed in a tangle of arms and legs. Groaning, Lars rolled his eyes again.

“Ugh, never drink again, Rhen,” he said.

“Your hair is so soft. Like feathers,” she purred, ignoring him. She patted his head, grinning.

“You’re impossible. And so easy to rile up.”

“Shut up and kiss me, seaweed head,” Rhen mumbled.

“Look who’s talking,” Lars replied, then obeyed her orders and pressed his lips against hers. Rhen whispered once they broke apart for air.

“What?” he asked.

Another mumble.

“Come again?”

“I said, I could beat the shit out of you,” she murmured.

Grinning, Lars replied, “I know.”

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Awww this was so cute xD

Am in love with these two ;~; <3

I can just imagine that grin face Lars is making at end xD

 

And pffft Dameon's hair xD she said it! Yess thats what I always wanted to tell him as well xD

 

Sent from my SM-G900F using Tapatalk

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Hahahaha thanks all for the kind words! I'm sorry I haven't been posting more stories ;_; my notepad is brimming with AV1 fics but I havent got the time to beta read and tweak them.

 

Sent from my GT-I9500 using Aveyond Kingdom

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
A Bad Idea
 
Characters: Rhen D., Lars T.
 
Idea: Questions like "so who actually stole the elf statuette?" keep me up at night so I just wrote a quick piece lol. Also this is my first time trying out present tense so it might be weird at parts, please bear with me. I was trying to broaden my writing skills.
 
Note: I can't seem to stay away from RxL sigh XD

---

"This is a bad idea," Lars whispers.

"We don't really have a choice." Steeling herself and taking a deep breath, Rhen hoists herself up onto the window ledge and swings her legs inside the house. She lands softly on the carpeted floor and moves away. Lars lands next to her, just not as gracefully. He knocks an unknown object, sending it clattering to the floor.

"Shh!" she whispers fiercely. "You're going to wake the people!"

"It's not my fault! It's so dark I can barely see my fingers."

Suppressing an urge to roll her eyes, Rhen lifts her arms and slowly makes her way through - what she assumes is - the hall, blinking hard in hopes of getting her vision adjusted to the darkness. Lars knocks into something behind her and he swears again.

"What a brilliant idea," he growls sarcastically behind her.

"Quit whining. We'll just grab the statue and bolt... hopefully with no problems."

"'You're both small in size. Also, you're both the youngest'," Lars mimics, "What a load of crap. Te'ijal should be doing this. Her night vision wouldn't be a problem."
 
She ignores Lars' comment. Her outstretched fingers come in contact with a wall. She feels her way around it, bringing them into a room. But Rhen misses an armchair, planted right in front of her, and she ends up stubbing her toe - hard - on one of its cold metal legs.
 
"Ow!" Tears spring into her eyes. Rhen reaches for her toes and groans when she feels wetness on her fingers.
 
"Shut up! Do you want to get us killed?" Lars hisses.
 
"My toe!"
 
"What about it?"
 
"I stubbed it. And I think it's bleeding."
 
Lars clucks his tongue. Rhen can imagine him rolling his eyes. She hears movement behind her. "Where is it," he whispers.
 
"Where is what?" she replies, annoyed.
 
"Your TOE. Where is your toe!"
 
"Oh, sorry!"
 
"Give me your foot!"
 
Rhen eagerly obliges. But she misjudges in the darkness and her foot comes in contact with Lars' face instead. It hits him right in the nose and he loses his balance, falling backwards on the ground.
 
"Damn it! I'm so sorry, Lars!"
 
Lars makes no reply; instead he lets out a squeak of pain.
 
Suddenly an angry voice calls out from the top of the stairs across the hall, accompanied by the faint glow of candlelight. "Who goes there?!"
 
"Oh no."
 
Panicking, Rhen reaches for where Lars had fallen and grabs onto what she assumes is his robes and pulls him up. "Hurry, someone's coming!" she hisses.
 
Lars pushes her forward. "Hide!"
 
"Show yourself!" Angry footsteps start descending the stairs and approaching them at a steady pace.
 
"But where?" Rhen whispers urgently.
 
The approaching glow from the candle illuminates the room they are in through the door. In its dim light Lars spots a couch by the far wall. He points to it.
 
"Behind that couch! Go!"
 
Quickly they head for the couch and pull it away from the wall, enough for the two of them to squeeze in behind. In their haste and panic, Lars trips and lands, back first, into the space they have created. Rhen follows suit in a tangle of arms and legs and lands squarely on top of him, earning a pained "Oof!" from the sorcerer.
 
"My leg!" Lars whispers frantically. Rhen cranes her neck to see his blue-clad leg sticking out. She presses her hands against the floor and lifts herself, trying to give him room to fold his leg in. But the candlelight fills the room and it is too late to reposition themselves. They remain in an awkward position, staring at each other with wide eyes. 
 
The voice starts speaking again.
 
"Who is it? I know what I heard!"
 
Heart beating fast, Rhen squeezes her eyes shut and holds her breath, praying hard that the unknown man would leave and head back to bed. Below her Lars also stops breathing.
 
"Come out," says the man in a singsong voice, "I know someone's here. Who is it? Is it YOU, Gerard?"
 
Rhen suppresses yet another urge to roll her eyes. What’s wrong with this guy? All she wants to do is to get the statue and get out of his hair. Why was he being so difficult? She sighs internally, arms trembling from the strain of holding herself up.
 
"Dear, what are you doing out of bed?" a female voice drawl.
 
At last.
 
Rhen meets Lars' gaze and she tilts her head upwards, hoping he will understand what she is going to do. He understands and nods, mouthing, "Slowly."
 
Lifting herself, she peeks out from their hiding place, careful not to make any sudden movements. She sees a woman in a nightdress standing at the door. Dismissing the woman, Rhen gives the room they were in a quick sweep. They are in a nicely furnished living room. There was a hearth, a few bookcases and that dreadful armchair. And there, in the corner, stands a statuette of an elf, the statue the thieves had requested and the item they are there for. Satisfied, she slowly lowers herself, mentally taking note of the statue's placement.
 
"I heard something," the man replies gruffly.
 
"There's nothing, dearie. You're just jittery," the woman replies. "Come back to bed, love."
 
The man says something inaudible and walks away.
 
"Finally," Lars mouths angrily.
 
The candlelight dims as the man joins the woman at the door. They head back up the stairs together and the living room is once again shrouded in darkness. But Rhen and Lars remain still. Only when a distant door open and shut did Lars let out a tired sigh. They shift into more into a more comfortable position and look at each other in the darkness.
 
"Now what."
 
"We wait a while. They might still be awake," she replies.
 
"That was too close. And I think my leg is dead."
 
"Tell me about it," Rhen whines, rubbing her arms.
 
"Hey, it's harder for me. ME! I'm LARS TENOBOR, cousin to the Empress, youngest sorcerer the Isles have ever seen and what am I doing? Breaking into people's houses!"
 
"Whatever."
 
"Don't you whatever me-"
 
"Anyways it's for a good cause," Rhen interrupts lamely. It is too dark but she is pretty sure Lars rolled his eyes when she said that.
 
A silence falls between them.
 
"Might as well fix your toe while waiting," he says suddenly, reaching for her ankle. Rhen lets him hold it and winces when he places his hand over her abused toe. Tingling healing magic courses through her foot and the pain subsides.
 
"Thanks," she whispers.
 
"No problem."
 
"You should get your face fixed too."
 
"What about it?"
 
"I hit you pretty hard. You might have broken something..."
 
"Ugh," was Lars' only reply.
 
Smiling to herself, Rhen slowly makes her way out from behind the couch. Mentally picturing the living room in her head, she heads straight for the corner where the elf statuette is placed. Behind her Lars also stands up, cursing at his numb leg. Her fingers touch cold stone and she wraps her arms around the statuette, lifting it from its pedestal.
 
"Got it," she whispers triumphantly.
 
"Good, let's go."
 
"Need some help."
 
Together, they hoist the heavy statuette between them and head back to the window from which they had entered.
 
"Do you know the penalty for stealing from a noble's house?"
 
"Lars-”
 
“DEATH.”
 
“Like I said, we need this statue to help the King, so I'm pretty sure we're forgiven."
 
"Ah yes, 'it is for a good cause'."
 
"Shut UP, Lars. And let’s get out of here."

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
Challenge Accepted

 

Characters: Rhen D., Lars T.

 

Idea: I've always wanted to write about the apprentice trials and I've ALWAYS wondered if Lars was present when Rhen was undergoing her test. 

 

Note: HELLO, I AM BACK. At least, for a while. I know I've been MIA for quite some time aghhhhh >_< I am blaming real life for this, haha. So, to destress I decided to write this one shot. AGAIN, I can't seem to stay away from RxL. Please send help!

 

---

 


"Sword Singing novice students are required to undergo the mandatory trials. These trials are held to determine if novices are deemed worthy to be promoted to the next rank - apprentices. Students are required to be present by noon and no later."

 

Rhen slapped the parchment shut and stared at it. It was wrinkled and almost torn at the folds, thanks to her constant fiddling with it. Taking a deep breath, she stuffed the parchment into the folds of her clothing and rolled her shoulders.

 

"Calm down. You're ready. You're so ready for this."

 

This was it. The apprentice trials she had trained so hard and countless days and nights for. She'd mastered every move her teachers had taught her and had excelled in both her practical and theoretical classes. So why was she so nervous?

 

"Because of Lars Tenobor, that's why."

 

Rhen groaned and covered her face. Why was she letting that jerk affect her, especially now of all times?

 

"Because he excelled his apprentice trial easily, remember?" she answered herself again.

 

The sorcerers' apprentice trials were held a week before and had caused a big hoohah in the Academy. Rhen hadn't been interested in attending it because one, she wasn't a sorcerer, so what was the point? And two, she had better things to do anyways, like train for her own upcoming trials. But her friend Anya had dragged her along, yakking on excitedly about how it is the trial of the year, how just about everyone is watching, and will she stop being such an "annoying needlehead and watch the damn trials already"?

 

So Rhen had forced her legs to walk to the field, arms crossed awkwardly across her chest as she stood amongst her fellow sword singers and the sorcerers. She'd planned to linger at the back so she could make a quick getaway when it was done - but Anya pushed her to the front of the crowd and she'd stumbled into a clumsy stop.

 

In the middle of the field stood the very person she loathed, giving his wooden staff a few warm up swings and occasional grins to his devoted, cheering audience. She tried blending back into the unrelenting crowd but the commotion attracted the attention of Lars.

 

Rhen groaned as she recalled the conceited look he had directed at her.

 

"Come to watch me, Peta?" he had said, tossing his staff in the air and catching it easily.

 

"No."

 

"Hm," was all he said, accompanied by an eyebrow raise.

 

"Just here to check things out, so I know what I'll be facing next week," she replied unconvincingly.

 

Lars laughed. "Very funny, Peta. Thanks for the joke, I really needed it. But you will never ever face anything nearly as amazing as what you're about to see."

 

She had bristled, uncrossing her arms.

 

"Oh yeah?"

 

"You heard me."

 

Things escalated. Rhen lost her temper and got herself into a heated argument with Lars. The cheering crowd simmered into an unsettling silence, although none of the two had noticed.

 

"I am just as good as you are!"

 

"You must be deluded into thinking you're better than -"

 

"I bet my trial's going to be better than yours, too!"

 

Lars ignored her and had started walking away, but he paused at her words and faced her slowly, a serious look on his face. He eyed her for a moment, then a slow smile formed on his lips.

 

"Is that a challenge?"

 

Rhen had been caught off guard but she lifted her head in defiance, heart beating fast. "Yes," she replied, her voice strong and clear across the quiet crowd.

 

"So be it."

 

Then it began. The whispers, the gossip, the news, spreading like uncontrollable wildfire throughout the Academy. It didn't help that there were many witnesses at the time of the issued challenge and that one of the professors had taken an interest in it. He even told Lorad, her mentor and teacher, about it.

 

"Why didn't I just shut my big mouth?"

 

Rhen leaned her head against the Academy's stone wall and sighed, cursing her inability to keep a cool head. Now the whole Academy was going to watch her fight her way through the apprentice trials. All eyes would be on her. And worse of all, the brat himself would be watching her.

 

What if she failed -

 

"No! Stop it. You can do it. You've prepared for this." She slapped her own face, attempting to remove herself from her own self-inflicted misery.

 

"Five gold says she will fail the trials," came a loud voice from across the hall.

 

Her jaw dropped. Rhen quickly peeled herself away from the wall and tiptoed toward the wooden door. She peeked through the cracks to see Anya and another sword singer.

 

"Caleb! How could you? 10 gold says she's going to ace it." That was Anya, and she gave Caleb a hard whack on the arm.

 

"A lot of faith you have there, Anya," replied Caleb as they walked further down the hall.

 

"Of course, she's my friend. Also that Lars boy has been giving her nothing but misery ever since they both stepped into the Academy," was all Rhen heard before they rounded a corner and disappeared. She grinned at that, silently agreeing with Anya.

 

That's right, Lars had been giving her nothing but misery ever since the day she struck him with a spell - unintentionally, mind you - through a stick back in Ghalarah. All she'd wanted to do was attend her classes and excel in her subjects in peace.

 

But no, he had to spread rumours that she became a slave because she was a thief.

 

That's it, then.

 

Rhen gave herself a determined nod and took a deep breath. She's not one to back down easily - oh, never, she was Rhen Darzon afterall - and so she reached for her sword and headed for the field.

 

----

 

The atmosphere was electrifying.

 

Rhen knew how many students the Academy had; she just didn't know it was this many. The surrounding observation decks were filled - all three tiers. Those who couldn't find any seats were forced inside the buildings to look out through the windows.

 

The crowd made up of red and brown flecks - red, the colour of the sword singing uniform, and brown, of the sorcerers'. Sword singing trials don't usually interest the sorcerers; but because it involved Lars, who was the most popular boy in school, and Rhen, the girl who dared challenge him - well, let's say it added to her anxiety. Her palms broke out in sweat and she wiped them on her uniform, forcing herself to take in deep breaths.

 

Quickly, Rhen made her way through the thick crowd. To say she struggled was an understatement. She made her way through easily, for the crowd seemed to part and back away as if she had the Plague. All eyes were on her.

 

"Hi," she muttered nervously to nobody in particular. 

 

"Darzon! You're almost late," Lorad called out to her.

 

Rhen winced.

 

"I'm sorry, Professor Rethwell. I was having a little... trouble."

 

Lorad clucked his tongue and shook his head gently. "Alright, get in line."

 

Only ten sword singing students were marked as ready for the trials that year - Rhen being one of them - and her name was last on the list. She hoped that that would make the crowd lose interest and leave the field; one trial alone could take up quite some time. But the crowd didn't seem to change even when the number of students in line before her dwindled. In fact, there seemed to be more people, and Rhen wondered how that was possible.

 

Very soon it was her turn.

 

She watched as the boy before her got dragged away from the field by two other students, lying limply in their arms. Rhen swallowed hard. That was the sixth student to fail the trial today - she hoped she didn't make a seventh.

 

"It's your turn now," whispered Anya, "good luck and may the Goddess guide you!"

 

"Thanks."

 

"And the next and final student, first in her class, sword singing student Rhen Darzon!" Principal Harald announced. The crowd went wild - or rather, the sword singing side of the crowd went wild, waving and cheering. The sorcery students watched on in stony but intrigued silence, watching her and exchanging occasional smirks.

 

Rhen spotted Lars in the first tier at the very front. Typical of Lars to get the best seat, she thought. He was watching her with a snide and knowing look, raising his eyebrows at her.

 

Ignoring him, she grabbed her sword and ran into the middle of the field, where the person in charge of conducting her trial was waiting. Lorad was holding a heavy sword twice the size of her own and a shield that could probably crush her if she wasn't careful-

 

Rhen pushed the thought from her mind and plastered a smile on her face. Her professor returned it kindly.

 

"Ready? Just like I've always taught you."

 

"Ready."

 

"You're my best student, Rhen... I want you - no, I need you to pass these trials."

 

"I... I'll try," Rhen stammered.

 

"Because you can't let that sorcerer boy win," Lorad continued, with a wink. She burst out laughing at that statement and tried to compose herself. She nodded determinedly. "I won't."

 

Satisfied, Lorad gave her a quick bow. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest as she followed suit. The crowd quietened down as Lorad and Rhen drew their swords. They circled each other, each looking for an opening to start.

 

Her professor was the first to strike. He swung and thrusted his heavy sword with lightning speed, actions almost impossible to follow. But Rhen, quick and alert, had no trouble matching Lorad. She was much lighter and smaller in size compared to him, and she used that to her advantage - striking when there was an opening and retreating when needed. Their blades flashed and clanged repeatedly, ringing and clashing. However, Lorad evaded her spells and songs easily, and that frustrated Rhen to no end. Already she's been struck thrice by his own, and if that kept up she would be the seventh student to leave the field without passing the trials. The thought of that happening motivated and undoubtedly scared her, so she continued giving her best.

 

In the midst of sidestepping one of Lorad's spells Rhen's foot slipped on a smooth patch on the ground and she fell backward onto her back. The crowd gasped.

 

Groaning, her fingertips touched the ground and felt something cool and smooth, something that felt like -

 

Ice?

 

Bewildered, she looked at the ice patch, which was already starting to melt under the hot sun.

 

How is there ice on the field, in Veldarah, where it was summer all year long?

 

Somebody laughed.

 

Rhen narrowed her eyes, immediately recognising that obnoxious laughter. She looked up furiously and saw Lars laughing with his friends. When he realised she was staring at him he quickly put on a straight face and the icy blue tone on his fingers disappeared in a puff. He stared at her, feigning innocence.

 

Why that little -

 

"Rhen, watch out!"

 

Rhen instinctively rolled away, narrowly missing Lorad's sword as it came swinging down heavily and piercing the ground where her head was just a moment ago. She stared at it in horror, then back at Lorad, where the call of the Siren was on his lips. The yellow energy that accompanied his blade - mere inches from her face - dissipated into thin air. She thanked the Goddess for the narrow escape.

 

Before Lorad could yank his sword free she raised her own and sang, "Slide Thrust!"

 

Her sword burnt a bright crimson and a burst of red energy exploded from its blade. The force sent Lorad flying through the air and he landed hard on the ground, the wind having knocked out of him. Swiftly Rhen kicked his sword in the opposite direction - then ran up to him and gracefully pointed the tip of her blade at his throat.

 

For a moment there was silence - a silence so strong Rhen started to wonder if she'd killed her professor. But then Lorad flashed her a smile and the crowd went wild, erupting into a myriad of cheers and catcalls. Grinning, she slipped her sword back into its scabbard and helped her professor up.

 

"Extraordinary!" boomed Principal Harald's voice. He was clapping along with the others and smiling hard. "Marvelous!"

 

Lorad held her hand and raised it in the air, proudly showing off his student to the entire Academy. Unable to control her grin, Rhen waved to the crowd with her free hand, a trickle of sweat rolling down her temple. 

 

"Well done," said Lorad, bowing. 

 

"Thank you, Professor Rethwell," she replied breathlessly. Rhen imitated his action, bowing low at the waist. The crowd's response was overwhelming and she drank it all in, still unable to believe that she had passed her apprentice trials. By then everyone - sorcery students included - were on their feet, screaming and jumping.

 

But it wasn't over yet.

 

She scanned the crowd and found the one person she was looking for. Pressing her lips together, Rhen gave Lars a curt nod. He responded by rolling his eyes. Then, for reasons she couldn't comprehend, she found herself approaching her nemesis. Lars looked equally confused as she rapidly closed the distance between them.

 

"So," Rhen started.

 

"What do you want," he snapped.

 

"Nothing. It's just... I passed my trials."

 

"I never said you wouldn't."

 

"Yes... but you did say I'd  never have one as good as yours. I believe the actual words were 'You will never ever face anything nearly as amazing as what you're about to see.' Well,  what do you think? Was my performance anything nearly as amazing as yours?"

 

"Hardly," replied Lars haughtily, but he wouldn't look her in the eye.

 

"Really?" she responded. He was fidgeting uncomfortably in front of her and she was enjoying every moment of it. Rhen decided to add more fuel to the fire - just because she could. "Because I think the crowd begs to differ."

 

Lars looked up and around him. The cheers had decreased a notch but the crowd was still excited and hyped. Most of them seemed to have noticed the both of them talking too, judging by the way they nudged their friends and the way they were looking over curiously.

 

This made Lars angry.

 

"What are you staring at?" he growled at them. Then he rolled his eyes. "Whatever. What a waste of my time." Saying thus, he turned to walk away.

 

Rhen watched his retreating back with a satisfied grin.

 

"Oh... that felt so good."

 

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Thanks all xD I wrote it while on the train to work hahahaha

 

Aaaaaaand I hate myself for being able to write something other than RxL.... T_T

 

I really don't blame the fandom if they get fed up with RxL lol!

 

Sent from my vivo V3Max using Aveyond Kingdom

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now

×