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offthepages · 2 days

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And so, the stars aligned. Pt 6

Azriel x Archeron!sister Reader

Summary: Lunch with Tamlin goes about expected. And Azriel is a jealous man. Warnings: None!

Ageless and Minors DNI

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

Masterlist

Requests are open! a/n: I forgot to link the dress and stuff for part five- and maybe it's cringe to do that. But I am cringe, and I am free... and very bad at describing clothing. So here's the dress, and makeup

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After Tamlin, the ball was a blur. Truly, so much wine and dancing had your head spinning in a way that you had never experienced before. It left you feeling light as a feather, as giggly as a school girl. Much to the Inner Circle's delight because you found them hilarious. Cassian was making jokes left and right, making you laugh so hard you had to hold onto Azriel for stability. In your drunken state, you missed the way his gaze softened as he looked at you. Watching you with your sisters, which the only one who remained sober by the end of the night was Nesta. But Cassian drank in her stead. Leaving you Feyre, and him up to no good. However, Azriel hadn't let you leave his side since Tamlin had asked you to lunch. Even when you tried to lose him, his shadows were far more protective of you than he was. It was sweet to see the way the tendrils wrapped themselves around your waist and pulled you back into his side. You would look up at him with a pout. "Azriel!" You'd whine. "Tell them to let me go!"

He took a sip of his drink, trying to hide his smirk. "Sorry, princess. They have a mind of their own." He was even more satisfied when you looked at the shadows surrounding the two of you.

"You big meanies. I'm not gonna pet you if you keep acting up!" You drunkenly scolded. Azriel quirked an eyebrow when the shadows slithered away from your finger. Chuckling lowly, he wrapped his arm around your waist. And the Illyrian took pride in the way Tamlin's gaze hardened as he watched the two of you, He debated a gentle gasp as you reached one of your delicate hands reached up and touched his face. Pulling the shadowsingers gaze down. Watching you talk about something you just saw, learning that you were more observant than you let on.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

But now, he found himself arguing with a brick wall it seemed. “Y/n, I understand you have pure intentions but you can not sleep in my room.” He tried to explain softly, gently. His hands on your shoulders. Willing every part of him to behave because there was nothing he’d love more than to have you in his bed. Even just holding you for the night would make his heart soar. To be the last thing you saw, and the first thing.

“No!” You huff, arms crossed as you looked up at him. Rosey cheeks, your hair mused from dancing, your pout undeniably adorable. “I wanna sleep in here. Because you are nice, and you are warm! Mor snores!” You throw your hands up, loosing your balance as you flop onto the bed. “See the bed wants me here.”

Azriel laughs softly. Shaking his head, he knew he loved you. He really did. And normally he’d be flattered his mate was so sweet. But now, now it was an issue. Because he had to defy all of his primal tendencies to oblige your every wish. He scoops you up gently. Your head falling to his chest, lightly your fingers caress the tattoos of his that peak out. Azriel suppresses a shiver. “Come on princess. Let’s get you to bed.” He whispers, crossing the hallway. Earning snickers from the rest of his family. All of which he glared at, only stopping when he reached your room.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The morning was spent nursing your hang over. Feyre, you and Cassian curled up on the couch being babied by everyone. Well- Rhys, Azriel and Nesta. Azriel had even gone as far as giving you some of the headache powder he got from Elian. You could have kissed him.

But now, you were back in your bedroom getting ready for lunch with Tamlin. Nesta brushing your hair, and she was much less gentle than Feyre. She didn’t care about delicately brushing out the snarls, she would just shush you when you protested. But eventually your hair had been braided into one large braid down your back. Mor placed flowers in the braid as Nesta worked on your makeup again. Dolling you up, despite your protests. “Stop wriggling, Y/n.” Nesta chides as she grabs your chin to force you to look at her. You huff, “I don’t want to look good for Tamlin!” You protest again. Trying to move away before Nesta forces you back. Her blue/grey eyes looking at you with an intensity that would have made anyone else wither.

“You have too. Looking like a goddess while you chip away at his frail little ego will just make It hurt worse. And that’s what you want. You want him to know that he can’t have you. But this is what he’s missing.” She explains, barely giving you time to recover as she brushes on a light pink eyeshadow, adding a golden shimmer on top of it.

In the end, you wore a simple pink gown. Something that was sweet, innocent. Like the princesses in the fairytales you read with Azriel. Your shoulders laid bare, the sleeves were short- frilly. The sweetheart neckline doing little to hide your frame. The front corset, designed with small intricate roses on it. You spun, the dress poofing upwards. You hated to admit it. But you would be happy to break Tamlin’s heart in it. In this dress you looked as if you belonged in the Spring Court. So to deny his offer? It be poetic. Nesta wore a simple gown with you as well, her’s a more diluted green. She’d looked out of place next to the vibrant colors of the spring court. But you and your sister descended the stairs, everyone waiting for you once again. You smiling softly at all of them. Azriel’s eyes never left yours. You could have killed him, and he would have thanked you. Truthfully. You looked like a day dream walking down the stairs. Smiling at them like you weren’t about to walk into the lions den. He would have followed you blindly anywhere. Gladly. With pleasure.

“Are you ready?” Rhys looks at you with a strained smile. You give a little nod.

“As ready as I can. I can deny him again right?” You anxiously ask Rhys, you knew he wanted an alliance with Tamlin. And your brother in law might be a snake sometimes, but you were almost positive he wouldn’t force you on dates. Rhys shakes his head, “No. You won’t have to see him again after this. Unless you want to. And if words fail you again, that’s why you have Nesta.” He gives a nod to your older sister. Nesta takes your hand and gives a little squeeze.

Smiling appreciatively up at her, you felt ready to have this lunch. Tamlin wouldn’t get to you.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“You look beautiful, Y/n.” Tamlin bows, taking your hand and placing a gentle kiss on it. You have to stop yourself from recoiling at his touch, but the cooling feeling of Azriel’s shadows wrapping around your ankles again helps calm you. Keep you grounded, quickly flicking your eyes up to where Azriel told you he’d be- tucked away in the shadows of the garden. You smiled. The shadows gave you a gentle squeeze back. Azriel, already wanted to kill Tamlin. But seeing the way he made you recoil? It made his blood boil. The only saving grace for Tamlin touching his mate was the fact Azriel knew you wouldn’t be going home with him.

“Thank you.” You murmur as he leads you to sit. A small intimate lunch. Just his seat, yours and Nesta’s. You had to force another smile at him as you sat. “Your Court is lovely.” You speak gracefully. “I hadn’t expected it to be so lush when we arrived.” Tamlin smiled and nodded.

“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” He allowed the servants to come up and give you a plate of food. Small salads and sandwiches. All things that were light. “I suppose I have your sister to thank for that. After ruining my Court…and letting it go to ruin. I looked at it only to realize that I was still running it the way my father had. And I didn’t need to. So, I took control back and let myself rebuild.” He explains to you, and you can see the sparkle in his eye as he does. He was truly happy, and he meant the words coming out of his mouth.

“I’m glad.” You offer, “I didn’t agree with her actions…but sometimes there is necessary evils that must take place for peace to prosper.” You give Tamlin your own gentle smile.

And conversation continues from there. Nothing out of place, or out of pocket. Tamlin even spoke to Nesta a few times, though Nesta just responded with pointed looks.

Azriel approved.

But all said and done, Tamlin was a gentleman. You could see how Feyre fell from him, how you could have fallen for him. But every time that thought crossed your mind, the shadows that curled around your ankle tightened. And at one point when you leaned down to try and brush them away- getting lost in your day dream of what life would be like here. They appeared as shackles. Reminding you what Tamlin had done to your sister. You didn’t finish your food.

Azriel’s eyes narrowed at the way you pushed away the plate. He noted that you’d have to eat more before you out to the ball tonight.

“You had quite a bit of fun at the ball last night, no?” Tamlin asked, looking at you over the rim of his wine glass. Your cheeks heated, looking away from him as you nodded. A small chuckle from him pulled your gaze back. “No worries, that is what the night was for. I’m just glad you enjoyed yourself. You got home alright?”

Nesta scoffs. “If you’re implying that we’d let her wonder your courts drunker than a skunk you’d be wrong.” You lightly kick her shin. “She went home with us, slept alone in her own bed. You needn’t worry about her maidenhood or anything of the sorts.” You felt your face heat again at her words as you shuffled uncomfortably in your seat. You felt exposed, embarrassed…you didn’t want to be here anymore. The feeling unknowingly being pushed down the bond. Azriel gritted his teeth, but kept quiet. Trying to push a sense of calm down the bond to you.

The cooling sensation of shadow washed up and down your leg. Gently trying to coax your fears down. You could have cried in relief to feel something so normal. But that relief was quickly taken as Tamlin stiffed. “I simply wanted to ensure she was safe. I implied nothing about her maidenhood. Nor do I care if it was intact or not. Feyre’s wasn’t.”

You felt a surge of anger from deep within. “That is my sister.” You say sharply. Glaring at Tamlin. “And my High Lady. Be careful how you speak of her.”

Tamlin’s eyes bore into yours as his nose wrinkles in disgust. “Tell me y/n. Would you require me to crown you High Lady?”

You felt the shadows grow still at his question. Azriel held his breath, if you had said yes? Did that mean you wanted to be a high lady? Something he couldn’t give you? Nesta’s eyes watching you intently. “I would require nothing of you.” You say simply, nodding your head to him. “Because I will not be with you- nor should a partner require another partner to value them. You shouldn’t have to ask for those things. If I truly mattered to you- and you say you have changed. Then making me a High Lady would be no different than seeing me as your equal.” You look to Nesta. “I wish to leave.”

Nesta’s mouth curls up into a smile. She stands and looks at Tamlin. “Thank you for your kindness.” Before offering you a hand, and you quickly take it. Not looking back at Tamlin. Azriel had never more proud.

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As soon as you were out of ear shot from Tamlin, Azriel appeared. Taking you in his arms and holding you tightly. The shadows wrapping around you two, and from your place- buried in his neck you felt his wings wrap around you too. ”You did such a good job…” He whispers into your hair. He reveled in the way your shoulders unclenched and held onto him tighter. Your whole body practically falling into his, soaking up his warmth and comfort.

”I wanna go back to the cottage.” You whisper. Before you know it, your feet are off the ground. Moving through shadows as you winnow back.

Azriel doesn’t let you go. Bringing you back up to his room, in his defense. Nesta motioned her head to do so, so he figured she’d go fill in Rhys. Opening his door, he gently laid you on the bed. Going to back up and let you rest- but you reached out to him. “Don’t go…not yet.” You whisper as you look at him with pleading eyes. And he is a weak man. Especially after seeing you with another male today. He had no choice but to crawl into bed with you, tucking you under his arm as he runs his thumb over your temple. “Thank you…” Your voice is soft, your eyes closed as you relax further into him. Azriel prays to the Mother that you can’t hear how fast his heart is beating.

“You don’t have to thank me.” He says quietly. Using the shadows to pull a blanket up and around you too. “I didn’t do anything.”

You shake your head, sitting up a little to look at him. “The shadows. They gave me strength. Reminded me that I wasn’t going to be free with Tamlin when my mind wondered. Your shadows gave me the strength to speak my mind. So thank you.”

Azriel smiles at you, cupping your cheek as he looks at you with a sincerity in his eyes. “My shadows didn’t give you anything you didn’t already have. You are strong Y/n. Don’t forget that.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Now, I can feel it in my old bones. You need a nap.” He pulls you down into him. Laughing quietly at his actions you settle in for a nap. ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

a/n: The next part will have another part at the ball!! I wasn't sure if I should have added it to this part or not...but let me know what you guys think! If you wanna be added to the taglist- click here! taglist: @sidthedollface2 @cat-or-kitten @impossibelle @brunette-barbie1220 @scatteredstardustt @sammanna @cherry-cin @tele86 @judig92 @lana08 @stained-glass-eyes0708 @oucereeng @persephonesalvatore @fightmedraco @juniperberriesaries @whatdoyxumean @harrystyke21 @tenshis-cake @5onedirection5 @bubybubsters @its-sam-allgood @natashachelsea @brieflyclassymortal @thecraziestcrayon @cherryinsalemverse @sourapplex @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @waggel36 @oucereeng @bunnyredgirl @kookie4life @mybestfriendmademe @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @mp-littlebit @caticorn61 @prettylittlewrites @lilah-asteria @thewulf @st4r-girl-official @nightsbite @nickishadow139 @dee-writes-smut @naturakaashi

#azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar x y/n #acotar x reader #nesta archeron #tamlin

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youcouldmakealife · 22 hours

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SOTM: Gabe/Stephen; largesse (pt I)

For the prompt: Gabe and Stephen being sappy at SOME point

Feat. everybody's favourite: Soft Stephen Petersen (but don't you dare call him that to his face)

I'm going ahead and posting this a day before the poll even closes, because it was winning by a landslide and also, well, Passover. This thing decided to grow legs, as so many prompts do. The second half will be posted next week.

Stephen loves holidays.

It takes a long time for Gabe to figure that out — he's talking literal decades — because Stephen’s actually pretty good at hiding it. Or maybe it isn’t that he’s good at hiding it so much as it’s exactly what someone would expect from him. Stephen exudes ‘too cool for holidays’ energy.

But then, to be fair, Stephen exudes a lot of things that aren’t true. Like how he pretends to hate hugs, but that’s only true in limited circumstances: he dislikes hugs from strangers and distant acquaintances, that’s true, but he liked hockey hugs, and hugs from his family, even though he always scoffed before he got them, just so they wouldn’t get the right idea, and a good hug is often enough to get him out of a bad mood. The thing Stephen hates most about hugs is how much he doesn’t hate them.

He’s like that with a few things: he spent years pretending he couldn’t stand math, even as he was getting straight As in it, helping Gabe out with his homework, but never without muttering how pointless math was. He still pretends to hate his sisters, and groans when Dmitry and Oksana come over, even when he explicitly asked Gabe to invite them, and constantly pretends he isn’t absolutely delighted to find a kindred soul in Jared. Gabe can see right through all of that. Always has. But Stephen’s apparent holiday hatred managed to fool even him.

That is, until Stephen accidentally shows his hand when Passover arrives. Stephen’s been doing something or another for it for years, packing Gabe little lunch boxes so he has options on the road, even including uncharacteristically sweet little notes during one playoff run.

Gabe always figured it was because Stephen knew it was hard to be across the country from his family, especially when Passover fell at the same time as their birthdays, or the last stressful days of the season, or the even more stressful start of the postseason — it’s never been great timing. And as much as Stephen would like to deny it, he’s always been thoughtful about those kinds of things. Always been kind.

But this year it's different. Gabe’s Passover planning usually just extends to hitting up the kosher section at the grocery store to stock up on non-leavened alternatives, maybe head to the deli he likes to get some inferior version of something his mom would make if he’s feeling particularly homesick.

Stephen’s putting a little more effort in. For one, he's decided to cook. Relatedly, he's spending half his time on the phone with Gabe’s mom, it feels like — recipes can’t take that long to convey, no matter how chatty Gabe’s mom is — and shooing Gabe out of the kitchen with his traditional Passover lunch box, even though he isn’t on the road this year, and, thank fuck, it’s still the regular season this time. It’s rough, having to abstain from all of his favourite ways to carboload just in time for the postseason.

And then there's Seder. The fact they're having one, but also the fact they've got a guest list: a few of Stephen's university friends, a Jewish colleague of his who also lives across the country from his family, and Jared and Bryce, Dmitry and Oksana.

He spends Gabe doesn’t even know how much time and energy getting it together, brushing off most of Gabe’s offers to help. Gabe’s exhausted just doing his minor part and low-key worrying about Dmitry or Jared saying something to set Stephen off.

Everyone's shockingly well behaved, though, to the point where Gabe wonders what Stephen threatened them with. Something horrible, he’s sure. At the end of the night, everyone parts with leftovers, which Gabe is a little wistful about — he knows they kept a little of everything but it’s his favourite, and Stephen did good job with it, if not a Miriam job — and Gabe starts clearing the table, because Stephen looks like he’s hit his limit.

The kitchen is such a disaster Gabe doesn’t even know where to start — he didn’t think they had this many dishes. He doesn’t even recognise all of them. Gabe has never been more grateful to have a dishwasher. He only wishes they had two. Or three, even. Three would be good.

“I think that went okay,” Stephen says as Gabe starts rinsing the dirtiest of the dishes.

“It went great,” Gabe says. “What’s the occasion, anyway?”

“Passover,” Stephen says.

“Steve,” Gabe says.

“Oh, well,” Stephen says. “It’s important to you.”

But he’s flustered, and not just flustered in the way he gets whenever he has to admit he’s done something nice for someone.

That doesn’t typically apply to Gabe anyway. Stephen claims that it’s inherently selfish to do nice things for Gabe, because they’re a partnership, and helping his partner helps him. Gabe figures whatever helps Stephen sleep at night after doing embarrassing things like offering Gabe the last piece of pizza — obviously not during Passover — or telling him he likes his playoff beard when they both know it’s mid at best.

Though, Stephen actually seemed pretty into it, last year, to the point where Gabe was starting to think he might have a bit of a thing for the beard. So maybe that was selfish after all.

Gabe, equally selfishly, hopes they make it even further this year, just to test that theory.

"Well," Gabe says. "Thank you," and notices Stephen looks relieved that he's letting it go. Even grateful.

So of course that's when Gabe starts paying attention.

#fic snippet #SOTM #gabe markson #stephen petersen

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starwarsbian · 2 days

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can you feel my heart?

listened to can you feel my heart by bring me the horizon the entire time

p in v, fingering, finger sucking,,leather? pet names, established relationship, emo boy anakin, modern au

tw cw: rough sex, knife play mention, gun play mention, breeding if you squint, impact play, degrading, pussy slapping dick piercing, he calls you his bitch Sorry LOL…

a/n: i would luv to write a part two LOL this is my first time like publically posting smth i wrote be nice to me i also refuse to use capitalization just read it anyway it is also not proofread! at all

anakin pulls up right outside your house in his shitty beater car, and you expect nothing less from him. he looks quite scary to other people, you think, and he is kind of an asshole but he makes up for it.

you get in the car and watch as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth swearing under his breath over how good you look—he’s obsessed. his lip piercing catching on his own teeth he says “fuck, you look good.. always look so fucking good.”

you have no real plans for the day you just needed to see him. you blush and flash him a smile. “thanks, ani. i’m happy to see you. give me a kiss?”

he doesn’t wait a moment to pull you closer to him inside the car and press your lips together. “happy to see you too, baby..what did you want to do?”

“let’s go back to your place, yeah? i have something i want to show you…”

“what? what do you have to show me?”

you shake your head. “not yet, anakin. get me alone.”

“fine, brat.”

anakin pulls out of your driveway and winds down just the few streets that separate your houses. he throws the car into park and all but rips you out of the car. he pulls you into the house by the hand before immediately pinning you against the door as soon as it closes.

“what was that, baby? about showing me something?” he slams his lips into yours again and winds his fingers through the hair at the nape of your neck. he tugs and it sends your head tilting back, exposing your throat.

he starts with kisses and that quickly turns to sucking and then that turns into biting.

he sinks his teeth into the flesh of your shoulder and squeezes your left breast; pinching your nipple through your bralette.

“yeah…i do. take my shirt and skirt off, ani.”

and he does, maybe too fast for his liking. he kicks himself metaphorically for not taking more time but as his attention comes back to the present his breath hitches in his throat at the sight of you wearing a lacey black bralette with matching panties and..bands of leather wrapped around your plush thighs. you purposely put them on in a way where your flesh bulges just a little between the gaps. they’re simply decorative and don’t specifically serve a purpose for you but a dirty, dirty thought goes through anakins head.

“jesus christ. jesus. fucking. christ. get to the bedroom, now,” anakin growls.

you throw yourself down onto his bed and wait for him to come press his body on top of yours but he doesn’t. instead he fucks around with his phone, making you feel ignored and pout.

“ani, i put this on for you. what are you doing?”

“fuck, baby. just wait a second. i’m going to absolutely ruin you and as much as i’d love for the neighbors to hear me fucking wreck you..i think you’d prefer if they didn’t? or do you not want me to play music?”

you’d rather him do everything he wants to you without worrying about sound. “play the music, anakin.”

he presses play and can you feel my heart starts. anakin takes his shirt off in that way that guys do where they reach behind themselves to grab the back of their shirt— yknow that way. his shoulders and arms are your obsession, honestly and the movement is delightful to watch.

he pounces on the bed and grabs you by the waist, pulling you up to meet his kiss. his very hard, messy, fast kiss. it’s seconds before his hands snake down your body, sliding his fingers under the straps on your thighs before hiking you up onto his lap. resting against his cock. anakin uses the straps to push you back and forth on top of him. the friction makes him stutter and his eyes are low with need.

“you put these on for me to grab? you thought id like to see you dressed like a slut..with special little handles for me to hold while i wreck you.”

“yes-yes ani. this is what i wanted.”

he slaps your cunt. a first for you and him but the pathetic look on your face made it clear you planned to tease him. anakin doesn’t like to be teased. he owns you and he doesn’t need to play games about it.

“i’m gonna hold them and fuck you then. pull you hard back against my cock and listen to you scream.”

his hand slides down your front pressing his fingers against your clothed clit. a moan escapes your mouth..anakin holds the left side of your face and pauses to ask, “is this okay? can this be rough? can i slap you around like a whore..”

“fuck, yes. hit me anakin. please, baby. fucking smack me. hurt me”

a huge grin spreads across his face as he pulls back his right hand and slaps you straight across the face. once..twice..three times. your eyes water and your cunt throbs…feeling your heartbeat in two places.

“you’re such a fucking slut. what kind of whore calls her boyfriend to come get her just to be smacked around and fucking used. that’s what i’m going to do. i’m going to use you.”

shivers are sent up your spine at the sound of his words. you love when he talks to you like this. anakin tears off your matching set with absolutely no regard to what you want to do with it. the song continues in the background and you let yourself moan at his eagerness and disregard.

“please, anakin. i want you to use me. that’s what i’m for.”

he slaps your cunt again and you buck your hips towards him as he grinds his thumb down a little too hard on your clit and leans down to pant in your ear.

anakin unbottons his black jeans and kicks them off while you watch, mesmerized by the outline of his hard cock in his boxers. his expression hardens even more and he smirks as you reach out, hoping he’d let you touch him.

“come here, then, darling. come touch it.”

you’ve done this with anakin before but your breathing is still shaking and your hands tremble as they pull down his boxers. he’s so hard..his tip weeping and bordering on purple..the shiny barbell through his cock still takes your breath away. you rub your thumb across the tip and hear anakin hiss.

“i just want to fuck you, don’t worry about me. lay down and spread your legs.”

you do as he says and you expect him to go in the direction of preparing you to take him but instead he kisses and bites your thighs. he sucks and takes his time working you up. your cunt is dripping right in front of him.

“you look so pretty..your cunt looks so fucking pretty, angel. god, you drive me fucking insane. i don’t know how i control myself most of the time. i think of the dirtiest things to do to you, baby and you don’t even know.”

“like what anakin? show me..let me feel it.”

anakin scoffs and laughs at you. “i don’t know, baby. i don’t want to hurt you if you don’t want to be hurt. you know i love you? right?”

“fuck, anakin. yea i know. i love you i want you to ruin me. do it now im tired of asking.”

something inside him breaks. he grabs your hips bruisingly hard and spits in your face.

“who the fuck do you think you’re talking to, slut? because i know it can’t be me. say you’re sorry. now.”

you shake your head…knowing it’s going to piss him off even more.

“no? what do you mean no? did you fucking hear me,” he growls at you before supporting the side of your face with his hand and smacking you scarily hard. he wraps his hands around your throat, only squeezing the sides. he doesn’t actually want to hurt you; not like that.

“you’re my bitch. i’m going to take you like you’re my bitch,” his voice softens “your safe word is flower. don’t hesitate to tell me if it’s too much, okay? i still want to take care of you and i swear i’m going to make you feel good.”

you blush and nod as he moves his hand up towards your face again..you flinch; fully expecting him to slap you again, but he doesn’t. he wants you to open your mouth and suck on his fingers.

anakin fucks your throat with them, rings and all. you choke on the metallic taste and stare at him with glassy eyes as you do what he expects.

“mmm..m gonna fuck you with these. roll over. darling.”

you roll onto your tummy and feel anakins hands glide up and down your thighs and ass. he teases and touches your slit..

“awe baby…she’s crying for me do you feel that? wants me so bad…,” as he spreads your lips enough to see you’re aching hole and pretty little clit. he pinches it…twisting between his fingers just a little. he stops and slaps your cunt again before splitting you open with two fingers without a warning.

you gasp and force your hips back towards the intrusion; sending anakin even further into you than he was planning. “well baby..since you insist,” he chuckles.

anakin begins to finger you at a devastating pace and angle. the feeling of you on his hand is almost as good as on his cock. he loves to feel you clench and see you whine when he purposely strokes your g-spot. he speeds up: massaging and prodding the soft spot inside you while you moan and desperately try to get him to kiss you.

he grabs the straps around your thighs and lifts you onto his lap. “grind on me, babe. feel how hard i am for you.”

“ani…i want you. i want your cock. come on stop teasing.”

“nothing is ever good enough for you huh? you’re so fucking pathetic and needy. come here.”

anakin lines himself up with your weeping hole and forces himself all the way in. he presses on your lower stomach and bites your shoulder.

“you look so beautiful. stay still for me.”

anakin holds you a few inches above his lap before he starts to thrust up into you. you drip further down his cock and he can’t help but stuff you full as soon as possible.

“i wanna fucking hurt you..i want to cut you. sweetheart…i wanna hold a knife to your pretty little throat or better yet? a gun to your head. letting you suck my cock shaking with fear ‘ani!! no! please don’t hurt me’ but really all i want is to fuck your throat while you’re so scared you’re Soaked.”

your heart races and you nod rapidly, unable to even get words out of your mouth.

anakin pushes harder into you and feels you throb around him..your clit aches for his fingertips. he tells you to turn around; his cock inside you but with your back pressed against his chest. he continues to fuck up into you and wraps his hand around your throat..hard enough to feel your pulse.

“i can feel your heart pounding. you like this? you like when your boyfriend says dirty things to you and fills you to the brim with cock? you’re so excited, huh?”

his grin can be felt against your shoulder while he reaches to your front. using his center two fingers he does small quick circles on top of your clit. “i can feel your heart here too, love.”

heat spreads across your entire body as you give in completely to whatever anakin wants from you.

this is for u bae @jjjajjaahhahahaha

#Spotify #star wars #anakin skywalker #anakin smut #emo boy anakin #modern au #star wars smut #this was self indulgent #i’m a lesbian but hc has me by the throat

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shepscapades · 21 hours

Note

okay i understand that we're going for comedy but i cant help myself here

so double life is the third life series, and in the canon of the life series, dl is the first time joel has gotten a partner and has not been alone (i could go on and on about how that affects his relationship with etho but we don't have the time for that)

but in dbhc, he gets what is essentially a robot as a partner, devoid of human affection and intimacies (at least for now), after 3rd life where he had no team, and last life, where his team was broken on the second episode

hes starting to wonder if he's not meant to have anyone after all

WELL!!!!! An in-depth analysis on Joel is really not what i was expecting here but you uh! you make an excellent point. that's um. yeah okay that's fine, i'm fine about that !!! <me when i lie

(rest assured, when joel finds out how jealous Bdubs is of him being partnered with etho, he goes from annoyed to delighted and finds many a way to have fun with Etho despite Etho not really being... himself. He at least has a good time because Etho is more or less there to agree with his plans and go along with whatever he wants to do DSFLKGJSDF)

#dbhc #dbhc ask #anon #dbhc etho #dbhc joel #dbhc bdubs #i gotta figure out what the 3rd life deal is too because the androids wouldn't have been made at that point #so i gotta like #idk come up with a new plot for 3rd life LKJGFDSLFIGJ with the people available #basically all of the village people are gone </3 #ANYWAY THATS NEITHER HERE NOR THERE #wonderful ask thank you #gonna be thinking about this

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hannahssimblr · 2 days

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“I have to say, this is an impressive body of work.”

I shift in my seat, “By impressive do you mean that it’s good, or that there’s a lot of it?”

This gets a laugh. “Both,” says the man, Paul, flicking through a sketchbook with tattooed hands, fingers stained from nicotine. I notice things like this now. Hands. I notice their lines and their bones, all their interesting details, and perhaps Paul himself could gauge this now as he pours over my figure studies where there are pages upon pages of hands, old and young, my friends, my sisters at the piano, an old woman clutching at a handrail on the train, and my own, a hundred times in different ways, blisters, plasters, hangnails and bruises from the rugby pitch.

The woman, Ida, shuffles through a stack of watercolour paintings I did last summer, mostly seascapes, the beach and the rushes, the whitewashed houses and rusted iron of the Wexford coast. Just looking at them I can recall the grit of sand under my bare feet as I warmed them on the deck of our holiday home behind my portable easel. In three months I’ll return again for one last summer, and after that I expect I’ll miss it there.

“And you said you didn’t do a portfolio preparation year?” She says, peering over the rim of her glasses.

“No, I’m still at school.”

“Highly unusual for a sixth year,” her eyebrows climb up her forehead, “You've clearly dedicated a lot of time to this.”

I shrug, “Yeah, I like making art, I don’t know.”

It’s difficult to tell what this woman is thinking. Everything about her is harsh, dramatic, from the sharp fringe that sits straight and neat above her brows to the slash of her mouth, thin lips, pointy chin, hard eyes, but I have to assume for the sake of my own self esteem that she doesn’t positively loathe my portfolio. She spends some time looking through my work, slowly, methodically, sometimes leaning closer to frown at something, maybe some proportion that’s off, bad composition, a clumsy attempt at ambient occlusion that doesn’t hit the mark…

“It’s beautiful,” she says simply, and I exhale.

“Oh look, a familiar face,” Paul holds a portrait to Ida, “That’s the girl that we were interviewing a few people before this, what was her name again?”

“Michelle,” I say, “My girlfriend.”

Paul nods, “Michelle, right! Good likeness,” and places the notebook back onto the table. Leaning back in his chair, he cracks his knuckles, “Look, Jude, there’s no two ways about it here, your work is outstanding. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a portfolio that hits every mark, every requirement and goes beyond, I mean,” he lets out a puff of air and gestures to the table, “this is nuts. And for a sixth year? Come on. This stuff would blow some of our third and fourth year college students out of the water.”

I feel like I could melt off the chair with relief, but try to suppress my utter delight so that they don’t think I’m too hungry for validation.

“Cool.”

“It’s the sensitivity,” Ida adds, “Your observation skills, your sense of weight, movement, knowledge of anatomy. It’s rare to see this kind of work from a secondary school student. Your efforts are just… so impressive.”

“And look, we know it depends on your Leaving Cert points, and yeah, that’ll be a contributing factor when it comes to acceptance, but, like,” Paul looks over the table again, tossing his hands up conclusively, “as far as I’m concerned, we’ll see you in September.”

Ida’s mouth curls into a smile, “We hope. If you choose us.”

If I choose them? Am I dreaming? How have I become the kind of person who is coveted by an art school? Surely not. Surely soon I’ll wake up and discover that this whole interview has been a product of my dreams. Too much time spent stressing out over art, the requirements, the brief... Almost certainly I’ve fallen asleep somewhere and none of this is real.

“That’s really kind of you to say. I’m glad you liked my stuff.”

“Blown away,” says Paul, and he leaps to his feet to shake my hand like I’ve just won a prize, “all we need is a pass in the Leaving Cert, you can surely manage it.”

“Yeah, I’ll make sure I do.”

They’re smiling at me as I gather up my work, and still smiling as I give them one last sheepish wave from the door, and I realise I am still smiling too as I face the hallway of waiting students, staring at me with portfolios rested against their knees. I probably shouldn’t look too overjoyed, it might knock their confidence, so I try to look very bored instead as I pass by, though I may explode from the inside out.

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy 2010 #he's back baby #looking cuter than ever #I love hipster era Jude so much??#and c'mon #y'all know what's coming this summer #anyone recognise Ida?

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nightgoodomens · 2 days

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Listen, Normally it's not in MS's realm to make an effort( yes I'm 8 and pun is intended) to do something super fancy or flamboyant. He talked about what a burden it is to dress up for events. He has always kept it classic and elegant, HOWEVER this is different. It's for Good Omens... It's for Crowley and more importantly, It's for David❤ it's a dangerous thing to put our hopes up but I'd say dream big people... it can hurt me but I'm expecting a delightful surprise from our feral welshman

I think I’d bet some money on this jacket being for David… not sure about Michael… but I can also see them being like well this is BAFTAs, this is Good Omens, this is Crowley… and just absolutely blowing our minds.

Plus a gorgeous bespoke tartan suit is still elegant, not flamboyant. Michael would want to look good for David’s first BAFTAs.

And David would probably convince Michael to go bespoke for this event…

Now, JK is doing tartan as his whole new collection, so there’s a bigger chance it’s for someone else… but then he’s working on them at the same time…

I HOPE that whatever they wear they will have something matching 😈😇

#NightGoodOmens talks Michael and David

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teastainedprose · 22 hours

Text

Office Tryst ( Homelander x Reader)

I had bigger plans for this, but the inspiration well dried up so I'm slapping this up here as is.

🔞1K EXACTLY, You hate Homelander. He's a fucking bastard, but you'll fuck him all the same. (PIV sex, flirting with voyeurism, bruises, biting)

Office trysts are nothing new to those scurrying about Vought Tower. Homelander has heard and witnessed plenty by mistake while zoning out in meetings, x-ray vision active as his gaze has wandered. He's seen some shit.

Now, engaging in one is a whole other beast. Homelander is finding that he delights in the risk of it, even if it is with you. For Homelander, getting caught is a thrill and for you? Well, they'd fire your ass.

Which is why you know it's intentional when the elevator doors slide open and Homelander is standing there with a wicked grin. He's quick to yank you against his unyielding form, one hand already pawing at the front of your blouse as he succeeds in shoving his tongue down your throat.

He's always quick to release you right before the elevator chimes and those doors slide wide open, too. His timing is impeccable but you figure it's his super hearing discerning when the elevator slows. It's far easier for Homelander to put himself back together in that stupid suit than it is for you to tug your clothing back into place and smooth down your hair.

Your fear of getting caught amuses Homelander and you swear your quickening pulse at the sound of footsteps gets him harder every time.

He could put that super hearing to good use as no one can actively sneak up on the Homelander. You both know he lets it happen every fucking time.

He delights in how you shove your face into his suit and clamp your mouth shut in an attempt to keep quiet. That's when Homelander whispers the most deprived things in your ear, rutting into you harder while trying to pull louder moans from you.

"I fucking hate you," You hiss up at him as the sound of retreating foot steps diminishes. You glare at him even while his cock is buried in you. You'd frozen up at the sound, muscles tense with dread because your skirt is hiked up, pinned against the wall with Homelander balls deep in you. Not exactly an HR approved gesture between coworkers.

"I know, sweetheart." Homelander purrs back as he begins to move into you again. His thrusts are punishing as he resumes his relentless pace. You finally reward him with subdued moans directly into his ear, letting yourself get lost in the pleasure you two steal.

It's a dangerous game you're both playing, but it's fun. Also, he's The Homelander. No one is going to chide him and who is going to blame you?

If you slink off and that 'bathroom' break is longer than expected, who among your coworkers is going to snitch? None of them are going to quibble if Homelander's partner vanishes within the building for strange, lengthy breaks. No one would dare.

As the office trysts continue, you begin to learn more of Homelander's moods. His rages are legendary and people know to avoid the supe on bad numbers days, but you're learning everything between a total meltdown and a good day.

The good days he's almost affectionate. His wit is biting as you exchange barbs, but it's all playful undertones as you bare your teeth at one another. On such days, you almost like him. He's almost charming. It's fun.

Then there are the days where everything has gone terribly wrong for Homelander. You know these sort of rages can result in little fires within the building. There was one incident where a production trailer exploded, blamed on a faulty wire. Curious that it had been Homelander's trailer and he'd looked extra petulant that day.

Those are the sort of days people scurry out of Homelanders' way, but for you? Those are the days you find you like best.

He's always desperate those days. Homelander growls in your ear, snatches at the back of your neck as he looms as a threat behind you. He'll give a possessive squeeze against your skin and a polite false smile to your coworkers with a comment about needing to speak to his girl in private.

The thrill that hums through your body is always the same. The danger of Homelander always excites you. You refuse to analyze why his possessiveness makes you all the wetter.

You're merrily dragged away into some empty conference room or even a broom closet of all things and Homelander doesn't wait to latch his teeth onto some part of your flesh. Your neck. Your shoulder. Once your inner thigh before he shoved your skirt up higher and yanked your panties down to bury his face there with a snarl. His favorite is a breast, usually the right one or whichever he can get out of your top the quickest. The bruises last for days and you don't mind that in the least.

Always aggressive with how he bites and sucks, little concern as to how it harms you. Which it does, but you like it. Homelander knows how to sink his teeth into you to pull delicious noises free, the ones you try to cover up even while he urges you to be louder. The angry, red marks Homelander leaves are reminders of a fun time had by all.

There's some aggressive urge to vent his frustrations out on your body, but even then Homelander is coiled with control. He could break skin with a flex of his jaw, snap bones with a flick of his wrist, but he never does. Not even when Homelander stares up at you, hatred boiling in the endless blue of his eyes. He hates you as you hate him. Homelander especially hates how he craves you.

Yet, even if the two of you growl out about how much you loathe each other? Even as he glares and postures, the hatred never burns as hot as it used to. It never burns the pair of you up like your passion does now on the daily. you try not to think about that. Such thoughts are dangerous.

#homelander #homelander writing #homelander x reader #homelander smut #drabble #okaybut Homelander would be tickled by someone who moans for him and growls out their hatred for him in the next breath #...I'm writing that already but-#lol #no proofreading it's smutty smut #well not that graphic #but w/e

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hiemaldesirae · 3 days

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LOOL YES!! That's what you get Alastor!! Cursed cat!Alastor adores Vox and would never hurt him. Honestly it'd be hilarious if Vox does an interview that night and the entire hotel (plus Lucifer) catches it and Cursed cat!Alastor is on Vox's shoulders just purring away and happily nuzzling Vox's screen and being happily petted and Alastor is gripping his fixed staff, grinding his fangs, jealousy leaking from him.

Charlie is pleased: "Alastor, I knew you could find that cat a good home! Thank you! =D"

Everyone else is fucking shocked. They know Alastor threw that cat at the Vees for entertainment and hell raising purposes (and in Husk's case, a way to try and get Vox to come back to him. Most of Alastor's schemes involving the Vees always, always revolve about getting Vox back.)

The interview is about a new product of Voxtech, but at the end of it, they ask about Vox's new pet and Vox just puffs up, proud as can be:

Vox: "This little demon just charged into the lobby, brutally attacking my staff! 2 or 3 died, I think 4 or 5 were maimed so I of course had to keep him! Isn't that right, Venom? (Cause Vox thought he had rabies....and he foams at the mouth when he attacks...so...and the V theme.) Isn't he precious?"

*sir is fine, for future reference. but YEAH, alastor would definitely be seething with rage- like whole fucking cartoon ass face too, he's NOT having the time of his life rn. why the FUCK was vox petting that hellspawn???? that should've been HIM ???????????

also venom is a perfect name for that little shit, honestly, though ill be fr i can only think of the. You know. Venom.

anyway whatever here's another writing snip. (vv short because i have morning classes tmw and im going to freak if im late again) you guys are greedy asf but whatever ill provide like any good father would

"Oh, dear... and he *kept* it, is that right?" Rosie gasps as she watches Alastor grip his hair tightly, head cradled in his hands. She giggles as she continues teasing the poor demon, "My, Alastor, isn't he quite the catch? Compassionate and caring to boot, not to mention that he seems to be *quite* popular among the denizens of Hell!"

"Rosie, my dear, please. Stop talking. For the love of God, stop talking," Alastor's ears flatten more as he begs his friend, Rosie merely laughing softly in delight as she watches.

"You can hardly blame me for being curious, Alastor! I mean, you always refused to take your sweet little picture box to Cannibal Town when the two of you were still talking... why, I had to learn of your dalliance through Mimzy! And, not to devalue my beloved's qualities, of course, but she's *hardly* the greatest source of information one can find-- I married her out of love, not for her communication skills."

"That *thing* probably has rabies," Alastor spits out, looking as if he'd just swallowed a particularly bitter pill. "I don't *understand* what he sees in it!"

"Well, it does look quite like you," Rosie points out leisurely. She takes a sip out of her teacup before continuing, "Perhaps he's treating it as a substitute for you? You know, in the way that some would treat their plushs like pets, he's treating his pet as... well, you."

Alastor narrows his eyes at her. "Vox *knows* that if he wanted to talk to me, he could easily just go over and tune into our shared frequencies. He's *replacing* me with it, Rosie, I just know it!"

"Hm... well, in that case, why don't you just go and make it clear to him that you aren't replacable?" Rosie taps the edge of her cup with a knowing glint in her abyssal black eyes, holding her good friend's gaze steadily. "You've never shyed away from confrontation before, have you, Alastor? Why be hesitant now?"

Alastor licked his lips, staring down in his lap before he picked up his own teacup and downed the liquid inside like a shot.

"Thank you for hosting me today, Rosie. I think... I've reached a conclusion."

A knowing smirk crosses the Cannibal Overlord's face. "Of course you have. I expect to be formally introduced to your lovely little muse soon, you understand?"

"Yes, my fair lady," Alastor rolls his eyes with amusement. "But you had better not try and take a bite of him."

"Who, little old me? I'd never, dear!"

"You had better not," Alastor frowns. Though his tone is joking, his expression falls flat.

Elsewhere, in the Entertainment District, Vox sneezes into Venom's fur as he cradles the fluffball of red fur. The freaky kitten turns to look up at him with a questioning look, but he only ruffles Venom's ears apologetically.

"Sorry, Ven. I don't know what came over me just now- oh, look at this! Should we get you this collar, or that one...?"

#ran rambles #chai writes #hazbin hotel #general asks #radiostatic #cursed cat alastor #the sneezing is because of the superstitition by the way #where if someone speaks about you you sneeze

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blackkatmagic · 2 days

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so here's the thing, I'm not super into the sw fandom right now, as in I haven't been reading much star wars fic, I've been cycling through other fandoms, however, you're keeping me connected cause I pretty much always want to read your work. I finally read flowers for the dead and its so good! very spooky in a way and the implications of the past are just insane, especially since I never dive into sw history (old republic, etc). Kix is wonderful I love him every time you write him and his and granta's interactions are amazing. Plus the other clones and obi-wan are great if fairly useless during the absolute mess Kix is dealing with. I'm so glad we're getting answers about the moons and such, I didn't even know what to expect from them but i fully support kix making an awesome planet for the clones to go hang out that everyone is mad about.

That is one of the most delightful compliments it's possible to receive, so thank you. 💗

But yes! The gffa has so much history attached, and I'm very fascinated by all of it, so bringing it forward to interact with a character like Kix, who's fairly quiet and just...kind of normal?? is very fun. SW should have more ghosts of the distant past rising up to menace the living, I think. And the Rakata are honestly perfect for that kind of thing.

#kat answers

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matchbet-allofthetime · 2 days

Note

Hi again! I melted over the Boone hcs—the way you write him is so good. Can I request your nsfw ramblings about Boone too? I just know his trigger finger could be put to good use…elsewhere 😩

VERY good use anon, you've read my mind 😉

Enjoy my excited horny rambling about Craig Boone below the cut ✨

Boone NSFW HCs:

-this man has a damn quick and steady trigger finger, and that extends to how he can fuck you with his fingers.

-he's a big boy by all accounts, and that gives him thick fingers, thick thighs and arms, and a thick dick.

-he can and WILL go commando, and that dick WILL be slung over the curve of his hip right where you can see it no matter what pants he wears

-he doesn't talk much unless you get him in a rare conversational mood at the best of times without fucking him. Despite that, he will absolutely mumble muffled praises and promises no matter how hard he's slamming his hips against your own

-definitely open for a poly relationship with you and a certain blonde doctor 👀

-casually constantly horny. Never stops.

-can and will keep going- like any other situation, puts both his endurance and strength to use

-puts that oral fixation and his habit of staying quieter to good use, because he WILL stuff his mouth with cock or cunt within moments of you telling him he can

-unnaturally long tongue, just a strange genetic trait. Serves him well when he pleasures partners

-dude will wilfully ignore arousal in lieu of his work but does get worked up if you tease enough to piss him off

-a touch possessive, mostly because he worries so much- leads often to him using a broad palm to press against your spine (or Arcade's, if he's also in on it all) to pin you down under him

-prefere giving over receiving, but if you do give, he certainly won't complain. It's one of few ways he gets vocal though, so be mindful

-takes as much as he gives. So if he ducks you hard, he expects you to fuck him harder right after

-silent touches and the holding of hands, even if he's rough

-only real exception to this is if he's pinned your hands or has both hands on your hips; he just loves being able to feel his partner(s) there with him

-king of aftercare tbh; despite growing up in the wastes, he's no less attentive of a partner. He is a sniper, after all, and he will notice every little wince or tightening of muscles even if you don't realize it.

-ultimately leads to him soothing kisses over soft bruising in the shapes of his fingers and teeth

-speaking of teeth, he likes to nibble! Not too hard, but he puts those sharp teefies to good use and thoroughly enjoys kissing into soft skin just to sink his teeth in a little bit.

-always makes sure to pay attention to all bites, bruises, and other aches and marks whenever it's said and done.

-regardless of gender, if he's fucking you from behind, spooning you to fuck you, or missionary- if his hand can support itself against your belly, it will 100% of the time unless he's preoccupied with something else

-likely stems from a need to protect that can and will get incredibly snippish toward those who aren't with him

-this man doesn't get jealous for the life of him, but he DOES get pissy when someone flirts with who he's with, primarily when they know he's with them

-leads to rough fucking just to be sure his partner(s) are marked fully. Followed quickly by tender, slow sex just so he can relax and worship

-he sounds he makes tend to be deeper grunts, and the sucking in of air in sharp, harsh intervals.

-but you can make him cry when it's tender enough, and you'll get soft whines and delightful noises of pleasure from him if you let him lose himself in it all

-switch, and can easily change that day to day. Most often a dominant bottom or a service top unless he's in a particular mood

-will happily get on his knees for a partner

-scrape your fingers through his buzzed hair- you can't pull it, hasn't been long in years, but it still riles him up

-bite at his wrist and kiss across his knuckles or kiss and suck little marks into his jaw and throat; that'll all have him worked up and anxious to bend you over just to see the arch of your spine

-the type of attentive to stuff a pillow under your hips but ignore the pain in his own knees

-prone to sub drops, so be very tender with him

-doesn't like admitting it for a long while, but he likes spanking to a lesser degree, and also has a thing for pain play

-it's NEVER enough to cause genuine damage, but he thinks reddened and swollen skin on a partner from the sheer size and weight of his hands is hotter than sin

-also likes sticking his fingers in a partner's mouth; the muffled sucking gets his brain hazy in the best way

-will put in HOURS when able just learning your body, learning what makes you tick and what has you teetering over the edge faster

-as per my much more sfw post, I expressed that I think he has nipple piercings. I think he'd have gotten them early into the NCR, likely as a dare or whatever, then found he liked them and never took them out

-I ALSO think he's the type of cheeky to have a Prince Albert. It's a hassle in the wasteland at times, but then, what isn't?

-shove a cock down his throat until he's sobbing with pleasure; he doesn't have a gag reflex and any choking that occurs is either by your hands, his own, or him struggling to breathe through tears of want

-likewise, he will choke someone lightly. It's mostly just his hand resting against a partner's throat and giving reassuring squeezes, but it makes him feel like he's protecting them in a way

-ride his thighs, PLEASE ride those thick ass thighs! He is not a small man by any means, and if you suck hickies into his throat and scratch at the tattoos on his broad back while rolling your hips against his thigh, hoooo boy, he will fucking ruin you

-is down for quickies when out and about in the wastes, but generally holds off unless he's angry, teased too long, or until you're back in a safe place (typically the Lucky 38, or if everyone else is gone for the time being, the Old Mormon Fort)

-is cheekiest when taking it up the ass, I don't make the rules. Can be a bit of a cocky tease, if not a downright soft brat

-ask him to keep the beret on and he'll cum in his pants in seconds.

-this dude fucks nasty AND sweet. Ends up with some curious but enjoyable experiences

-hates orgasm denial, but adores overstimulation every time

-he's patient but orgasm denial leaves him feeling more pissed off than eager

-but he'd like to be a shaking mess- or make his partner into one- or both! So make sure to use it

-will try to toy with partners under tables. He doesn't give a fuck, he will have a hand on your thigh and will stroke you then and there

#craig boone #craig boone x reader #fallout #hints of poly!boonecade bc i can't help myself #fallout new vegas #fnv #smut #hope you enjoy this ramble session haha #anon i adore you please keep sending whatever asks you please 😭

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 2 days

Text

Season 3 Rewatch Drabbles: 3x21 Snow Drifts (Part 2)

Summary: A series of 100-500 word drabbles to accompany my rewatch of season 3 of Once Upon a Time. There will be a drabble–either a deleted scene, a “fix it” fic or a character musing for each episode of the season. Focus will be on Emma, Henry, the Charmings and Killian–with an emphasis on Captain Swan’s epic love story.

Word Count: 589

Other Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (25) (26) (27) (28)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Notes: I knew there was no way I could stick to just one drabble an episode for the CS movie, so I didn't even try. There will be 2 drabbles for 3x21 and 4 for 3x22. They are all written, so the plan is to post one per day until they're all posted.

They walked in silence for several moments, Killian shaking his smarting hand. He hadn’t taken into account how blasted solid his former self’s jaw was when he decided to wallop him.

“I wasn’t going to let it go anywhere, you know,” Emma said, giving him a tentative side glance.

“Pardon, love?” Killilan asked, brows furrowed.

“You know, that whole make out session with him…or…you…or…whatever,” she said. “I know he was expecting a tumble in the sheets–”

He grinned wickedly before waggling his brows in an exaggerated manner. “With a lass as tantalizing as you, I rather doubt we’d make it to the sheets. I’d probably take you right there against the ladder.”

He saw a delightful shade of pink spread across her cheeks and felt more than a little satisfaction that he’d managed to affect her even a fraction as much as she affected him.

“But,” she said, apparently deciding the best course of action was to pretend he’d never interrupted “I had no intention of letting it go that far, no matter how well he kisses. A few seconds longer, and I’d have decked him so we could get the hell out of here. I can take care of myself, you know.”

“Oh I know,” he said, smiling. “You’re a fearsome lass, and you’d leave many a pirate quaking in his boots.”

She smiled back at him, and he was sure he’d be willing to do anything to keep that delightful smile on her face.

“Anyway, if you were, I don’t know, jealous of him…yourself…whatever,” she said, “I just wanted to let you know.”

He smiled wistfully. “He was a bloody git,” he said, his voice disgusted. “He deserved far worse than that.”

She was silent for a second, and he could tell that she understood him, that she knew he was talking about far more than Captain Hook trying to get into the skirts of a fetching woman.

“Killian,” she said gently, as they slowly walked toward Midas’s castle, “I know you did bad things in the past, but who of us hasn’t?”

“Far be it from me to disagree with you, love,” Killian said bitterly, “but your transgressions couldn’t have been anything compared to mine. That man lying unconscious on the Jolly… There’s no way to expunge the dark deeds he’s done.”

“Bullshit,” Emma said, and his brows rose at her emphatic tone as well as her profanity. “Killian, that man is you. You may have lost your way, but you’re a good man. You’ve always been a good man at your core. I could have defended myself if I’d needed to, but I knew I didn’t. Even at the height of your bad guy days and drunk out of your mind, I know you would never have hurt me.”

For a moment, this simple statement of faith rendered him speechless, and when he spoke, his voice was not quite steady. “You trust me that much? Truly?”

Her smile was just a little bit tender. “Of course,” she said simply.

The moment was charged, the tension crackling between them. Emma swayed toward Killilan, and he mirrored her action, his eyelids started to flutter as their lips moved closer…closer.

Suddenly there was a scurry of motion and a rabbit darted past, a fox close on its furry heels (Incidentally, do rabbits have heels?) and the mood was broken. Emma took a step back, her cheeks pinkening once again.

After a moment Killian grinned, raising an eyebrow. “Might we return to the topic of how well I kiss?”

NEXT CHAPTER->

#season 3 rewatch drabbles #captain swan fanfiction #my fanfiction #self-loathing killian #supportive emma

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