#what do you want to do with that wooden crate? please put it back

[cimprlina]

I'm forever DM (I have some experience and my friends wanted to try playing) and during first session our ORC barbarian decided, completely outside of combat while I was explaining how travelling, pace, rations/water and rest work, to shove the HALFLING rogue forward on the path while there was a giant (almost as big as the rogue) log right in front of them. She rolled nat20...so the rogue slammed head first into the log and took enough damage to drop down...she survived...

That was the moment I realized how unhinged the party's going to be.

#d&d #forever dm #please stop adopting weirdos #could you stop mispronouncing the npc names?! on purpose!? #unhinged party #what do you want to do with that wooden crate? please put it back #I know you are a rogue...that doesn't mean you should pickpocket your new friends #why are you all so traumatized? #i bet your tiefling is queer #of course he is #and he was tortured #-_- #aaaand the barbarian is literal mummy sorry meme

[sideblogofhell]

a forbidden fruit

summary: pietro eats something he shouldn't have pairing: pietro maximoff x male reader word count: 1.1k warnings: 18+ warning, s3x pollen, blowjobs, unprotected sex a/n: part iv have fun do leave comments if u liked it

masterlist | the repentant's corner

Pietro dashed around the lot sixteen times to make sure no one was there. You rubbed your hands together for some heat against the chilling night. The grass crackled beneath your feet trying to chase after your partner. You ended up a panting mess next to him, your knees shaking. 

“So I was thinking, after this patrol maybe we could go out sometime?” he said, his breath unwavering. You gulped and tried to let out a word, your voice dry and coarse. You nod, sweat dripping down your forehead. 

“Can you focus?” you said, trying to open the door. He broke open the warehouse padlock with ease, vibrating at a pace that dislodged the gears that kept the lock secure. 

You slide the rusty door open into a dark room. Pietro used a flashlight to look into the path. The warehouse was small, almost the size of a barn, the floor a flat grey concrete, the walls tall and rusted. There were a few broken wooden crates scattered all over the floor, a metal table on the farthest left. 

Your partner zoomed into the room like a faint blue flare. He checked to see the contents of the crates, all seemed empty.  He sat on the metal table, a few newspapers sprawled out and a white dish used as a makeshift ashtray. 

“Look at this,” he pulled out a small ziplock bag filled with different sugar-coated candy like Skittles. He takes one out and puts it in his mouth, licking the sugar off his fingers. You took the bag from him, smelling the contents; sweet and fresh. “Want one?”

“You idiot! I don’t think this is candy,” you took the bag inside your pocket, Pietro smirking. “We have to send this to the lab.”

“It’s fine, fast metabolism remember?” he shrugged. 

The plane ride back to the compound was quiet. Pietro sat away from you and kept to himself, which was very unusual. He would always try to bother you while you flew the quinjet, always teasing and messing around, but right now he was slumped over to the side using his phone. 

You arrived at the compound a few hours later, the airdock marshalls taking over the jet. You asked other agents to rush to Dr. Cho’s lab to send the candy samples. “Pietro and I found this on patrol tonight,” you gave the pack to her assistants before they went on to test the samples. 

Your phone dinged to a message from Pietro. Meet me in the conference room at 4B ASAP. 

“Fine, I’m an idiot,” he said. “My dick has been so hard for the past five hours and I can’t make it go away!”

“Your what?” you looked at the tent in between his legs, his knuckles were pale white as he gripped onto his pants. “Well I knew it was a drug but I didn’t know it was that kind!”

“What are we gonna do?” he said, his silver-gray hair all tousled over his forehead. He zoomed around and around the room, a cobalt blur blew gusts of wind everywhere he went. He stopped in a corner, his legs shaking and his face flushed. 

“We?” you clamored. “How the fuck am I supposed to help?”

“I don’t know you’re smarter than me!” his eyes widened, his voice shaking, sweat dripping down his forehead. He braced for another run but you held onto his arm. He shuddered, his skin was hot. 

“We should tell Dr. Cho,” you said. “Get you medicine or something.” 

“Absolutely not,” he pleaded. “It’s embarrassing,” his eyes wandered all over the room as if the answers were written on the walls. “We should deal with this the way it's intended.”

“Yeah, no,” you said before turning for the door. Pietro suddenly was in front of you blocking your exit. 

“Please draga—“ his lips were dead set. Pietro was an ill-tempered man, his demeanor was quick like his abilities, charismatic but also stubborn. You thought for a second, you’re helping a co-worker that’s all right?

“Well, how do we do it?” you said. He removed his jacket, and his blue shirt underneath. You marveled at his taut chest, the ridged cuts across his abdomen, and the two lines pointing down his sex. You tried to look away, but you couldn’t believe someone could look like that, like a Greek sculpture. 

“Come here,” he said, pulling you into a kiss. His lips were warm against yours, his stubble pricking at your cheeks. Your hands find his chest for stability, snaking around his neck to pull him closer. His large arms circle around your waist, finding the hem of your pants and going through to your ass. 

He spun you around and pinned your hands above your head, using his other hand to pull your pants down. He smoothed his palms on the plump mounds before giving it a spank, leaving it a red blush. He practically rips his pants open, his thick cock hard and leaking. He spits on his free hand, using it to prepare you. 

“I’m gonna go in okay?” he said in a whimpering tone. You nod, your cheeks warm. He spits again to lube his cock before feeling the pressure on your hole. It was sharp for a bit, the pressure easing as he flushed himself in, the base of his cock hitting your ass. He stops for a second, relishing the heat from your body. “So tight—”

You grunted when he pulled out, only to thrust back in. He began to fuck you at a languid pace, the sensation soothing the tingly feeling Pietro got from the drug. He tried to go slower, to make sure you won’t get hurt but he couldn’t. As you tried to move your hips at the same beat of his body he started to—vibrate. 

You let out a gasp, you thought of the toy you had at home, the one you use thinking about him, but the speed and intensity could not rival him. Pietro let out a series of cusses in Sokovian, it sounded like he was pleading to a god. Your knees turned wobbly from his thrusts, his body vibrating at a pace that made your eyes roll back, your own sex hard and leaking in your trousers. 

“Pietro—fuck,” you moaned.

“I can’t control it, you’re too warm,” his words shaking. “And good,” He let go of your hands, shifting to your waist, he gripped so hard you knew it would bruise. He moved quicker, like a piledriver into you, it stung but the pleasure of hitting your prostate compensated. 

When gripping onto your waist wasn’t enough, he wrapped his arms around your body hugging you, and began to thrust into you harder, his silver hair plastered on his forehead wet. Your body tried to keep you up but your legs betrayed you. You fell down, his cock pulling out. “I can’t stand.”

He pulls you to the table nearby, propping you with your legs on his shoulders. He lines himself back into your hole driving back into his thrusts. The vibrating began again, shaking the table as he gripped it on its edge. You let out desperate cries, he tried to soothe you by kissing your lips, drool dripping from the corner of your mouth. “I’m close—” he cried out.

You nodded, the constant stimulation to your prostate was going to make you cum untouched. His thrusts became erratic, still a vibrating mess. Pietro stood up and you marveled at the glistening sight, his abdomen contracting and relaxing on each thrust, his head pulled back and his lids closed. 

And then the climax hit, cum shooting inside you in thick, your own release spewing on your belly. The vibration slows, Pietro a panting mess for once, a side of him you’ve never seen. He places a peck on your lips and mouths praises. 

“So about that date?”

#pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff smut #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff x reader smut #pietro maximoff x male reader #pietro maximoff x male reader smut #avengers smut #marvel smut #mcu smut #male reader #male reader smut

[uglypastels]

Not Wholly Evil |I| Pirate!Eddie au

a/n: I know a lot of people were awaiting this fic and I am really sorry I could not deliver all the content I promised, but I really hope you enjoy this bit that I'm the proudest of and if you would like to see more of this au, please just send an ask and I'll be happy to share (but it would not be direct continuations. Just blurbs)

summary: as the daughter of the Governor, there is quite a heavy prize set on your safe return home, and the captain will not let anything come between him and his bounty.

Series Masterlist

word count: 5.6k

"semi dark fic" - READ the warnings:. (gun/sword)violence. blood. minor character death. allusions to suicide. kidnapping. imprisonment. alcohol. open and deep sea. pirates are pigs: frequent mentions of non-con and allusions to assault, but it does not actually occur. malnourishment. abuse. manhandling.

There might be a mention of other ST characters, and for plot sake, everyone is an adult here, just coz I don't want fetus pirates running around, but they are not really relevant to the plot.

Chapter 1: The Death of the Red Tail

“I dare say that we are all savages under the cloak that civilization fashions for us." - Rafael Sabatini, Captain Blood

You were startled awake, once more, by the sound of the metal scraping over the wooden planks. Again, the harsh noise pricked at your ears. Over the past few days, you had done your best to get used to all the loud noises aboard. Still, they tended to occur at the most random of times, usually when you had finally managed to fall asleep, pulling you right back to reality, which, ironically, was your nightmare. 

‘Didn’t mean to wake you up, Princess,’ the man chuckled, to which you did not respond. You never responded to what he, or any of them, had to say. Instead, you barely acknowledged him as he passed your jug of water between the steel bars. The roughness of his movements made the already meek amount spill out. ‘Breakfast’s served.’ 

It was dark below deck, with the only light coming through the small windows atop the walls, letting sun rays hit the ground at your feet in a circle. It was just enough of a light source for you to see what you were surrounded with. Barrels and crates filled with Gods know what. Next to you was a thin fleece that was supposed to keep you warm through the night but barely ever sufficed at its job. 

After the jug of water, he threw you your breakfast: a piece of stale bread and a severely bruised apple. The bread fell into your lap, but you managed to catch the fruit quite easily, which you then also put down in your lap, looking down at your old dirty dress, not saying a word. Miserably, you toyed with the slice of bread, the lack of appetite weirdly not corresponding to your hunger. The food was far from edible, but it was also the only thing that came close to it, so it would make due. You had taught yourself to fight through the dryness and tastelessness.

‘A thank you would be nice, Princess,’ he snarled, but you didn’t even look up at his comment. Ever since you had been brought down there, you had made it your goal to exchange as few words as possible with these men, even when they started rattling the bars around, trying to catch your attention. Even when they slammed their hands on it, making you jump. But, finally, after a third slam, you snapped.

‘You gone deaf, too, now?’ he spoke louder.

‘I would be more than happy to thank you if there was anything to be thankful for.’ You rolled your eyes. You had grabbed small opportunities to ask for more food and water, begging to be let out of the tiny cell to stretch your legs and get some fresh air and every time you were met with nothing. It was the definition of insanity, wasn’t it? To do the same thing expecting different results? But you weren’t expecting anything. You were hoping. Desperate that something would change one day, and the odds would turn in your favour. Just once. That was all you asked of the universe.

‘We could easily let you starve, so better shut it.’ He pointed at you sternly, but you knew it was a big bluff. And it angered you. A rage slowly cooking inside you rose to a boiling point. You couldn’t keep it in any longer.

‘No, you shut it,’ as swiftly as you could manage on your weak legs, you got up and made your way over to the bars that separated you and the man. He backed away, clearly not having anticipated your sudden move, but he was too slow, and you still managed to snatch at his collar, pulling him back to you. Then, gritting your teeth, you spat your words into his face. ‘I have been stuck here for days, begging for the smallest amounts of decency from you, and so far, I have been laughed at in my face every. Single. Time. 

‘So, you can try and scare me with your empty threats, but I know you need me alive and well for you to get your gold. Dead, I am worth nothing. So, I doubt your captain would enjoy hearing that something happened to me on your watch.’

‘You wouldn’t dare,’ his eyes narrowed into tentative slits, as did yours. 

‘I don’t think you really want to wait and see if I do. Because I don’t know about you, but that rope over there looks like it would make a grand necklace. Do you think that beam up there could hold me up?’ you cocked your head up to a point at the ceiling. His eyes followed your movements and the rope hanging just arm’s length away from the holding cell. Suddenly, his throat tightened as he tried to swallow. 

‘What do you want?’

‘I want to get out of here,’ you said, gritting your teeth. You didn’t dare look away from his eyes, which were just as cold as you felt. You thought you might finally have cracked one of them for a second, but then he managed to pull himself out of your grip.  He kept muttering curse words directed at you as he climbed the stairs up the deck. ‘Remember, I have nothing to lose!’ you shouted out after him, one final attempt, just in time before he slammed the trapdoor behind him.

You sat back down. Heart beating against your ribs and a smile covering your lips for the first time in a long time. The adrenaline from the little stunt quickly deflated out of you, and you folded your legs into your chest.

It was stupid. It would only anger them more, and the last thing a person wants is to be stuck on a ship, in the middle of an ocean, with a crew of scoundrels. For people like them... the smallest of annoyances could cost you your life. No matter how much it was worth to them.

Biting into your apple, ignoring the slight sourness, you tried to keep your breathing steady. Then, with closed eyes, you listened to the sea hitting the ship's side as it sailed on through them. If you sat there long enough, you could almost make yourself believe that you were not locked up in a small cell at the bottom of a rotting ship. That you were, in fact, in your own cabin on the Red Tail. Your father’s ship, sailing home.

You were not meant to be there. You had insisted on coming along, wanting to see something of the world, being exhausted of never going further beyond the outskirts of your city. You had been yearning for that space.

It had been a sunny day, with just enough wind blowing through the sails to progress the journey, only a little longer until you would reach your destination. The crew was happy, relieved to be so close to the end. As much as it was an honour to work under the Governor’s orders, to sail for weeks on end over the open sea was a dangerous and exhausting task. 

Everything suddenly changed when someone yelled it out. You weren’t even sure what they had said, but by the reactions from everyone around you, it was easy to guess. 

Pirates.

Before you could even ask to be sure, you were dragged back inside to the Captain’s quarters and told to hide. So, hide, you did. 

It took the ship a while to make contact. And all this time, you remained seated under the oak desk. It was the calm before the storm. You knew the canons would soon go off, and the ships would be punched with holes. The pirates would jump ship; they would attack and destroy. You could hear it all happening outside. The swords clinking, the guns going off, the wreckage, and the screams. It was all too much. 

The minutes between the canons were the worst. Your ears were still ringing, and all you could do was anticipate the subsequent explosion and the shaking of your whole world. And then they would go off, and you had to do your best to follow the orders you were given. Be still and be quiet. They would take care of it. Your safety was everyone’s priority. 

And yet, you felt shame wash over you at the idea that you were hiding while the men were out there, fighting. You felt useless and small, like a child. Cradling yourself to make your being as small as you could underneath that desk. The canons only seemed to be getting louder and louder. You couldn’t block the thundering and destruction on the other side of the door. 

Perhaps you had screamed. You couldn’t remember. Everything was a blur. But something must have given you away in the end. How could they have known you were aboard? In the captain’s quarters? Nothing else made sense, but they heard your panic. They could sense it, being the predators they were.

It took all of your inner power not to scream when the door to the quarters burst open. At first, you thought a cannonball must have just burst through the wall, but it was much worse. Pairs of boots slowly made their way towards you. You closed your eyes and tried to stay calm; in your mind, the words of your mother’s lullaby swept by. The same old song she used to sing you during dark and stormy nights. That was all this was… a storm… and it would soon pass…

‘Gotcha,’ the voice sounded acidic and vile. You opened your eyes to be met with a pair of stormy grey ones, so cold it made your blood freeze. He smiled at you with a toothy grin, which only made you crawl back under the desk. There was nowhere for you to go, and he knew that. So did his lanky friend as they both reached out for you and pulled you out from beneath the furniture. Your skirt hiked up as it grazed over the floor, and you did your best to keep it down and over your legs. 

‘No, please, no,’ you tried to sound as assertive as possible, ignoring your urges to scream and cry out. With little care, they pulled you up on your feet. Standing face to face with them almost should have taken away some of your fear, for you realised they could not be much older than you, perhaps even younger, but you still felt your legs shake. 

‘You gonna come with us?’ he wouldn’t stop smiling at you, which was unnerving. But, of course, only a truly evil person would find joy in such circumstances, a severely disturbed and corrupt individual. 

You took your shot, trying to wring your arms out of their hold. You thought you might have slipped out of one of their grips for a second, but then he pushed you forward, nearly making you fall as you stumbled over your feet. With each step they made you take, you tried to defy them, thrash around like a freshly caught fish, really, much to your own embarrassment. But it wasn’t doing any good. The net just tightened around you with each attempt at freedom. 

You had imagined what was happening in the rest of the ship, but the reality you were met with was even worse. The vessel was in shambles. The broken mast had fallen, and the sails were ripped to shreds. The clinking of swords was still coming from all angles. Some of the men noticed you, captured by the enemies and tried to reach you. Fighting off the scoundrels with their long swords, to no avail. The fight was not a fair match. The people you travelled with were mostly sailors, never having learned how to fight correctly. They were all going off of survival instincts. 

You heard your name being called to you from the side, and you could see the worried face of admiral Carver as he pushed his way through lines of enemies. You made another attempt to free yourself from the men's grips, pulling yourself toward the admiral, the man appointed to keep you safe throughout your journey… to think that mere days ago, you had both joked he was nearly futile in these endeavours. 

The chaos around you ensued as men fought, bled, and died. 

The blood was everywhere. 

It was all going too fast. The hold the cruel men held on you was too tight to attempt anything, and before you knew what was happening, you were being led across the plank connecting the two ships. 

A gunshot went off. One of the men holding on to you went limp, letting go of you. You didn’t dare to look, but you could tell by the shift of weight on the wooden bridge that there was one person less standing beside you. And indeed, a second later, a splash followed as his body hit the water beneath you. 

Not by choice, you turned around the thin piece of wood as the other man holding you looked over to where the gunshot came from. Carver stood at the foot of the plank. Gun barrel still smoking, pointing right at your aggressor. The admiral had an admirable shot, so you had no worries about his aim. But that shot never came. The two men on the opposite sides of the bridge locked eyes with intimidation coming off both of them in great amounts, but the trigger was never pulled. Before Carver could, you screamed in horror as tears stung your eyes. 

You were pulled the few final steps across the plank, almost pushed down to the ground, for you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the sight of your loyal admiral falling to the deck of his ship. His white shirt was stained red, and the staining only grew larger and larger. He had just enough time to look down at his bleeding chest before he fell to his knees. The sword stuck out from his back. 

‘No!’ your scream pierced through everyone’s ears as you tried to get out of your capturer’s hold and run back to your own ship, to your people, but it was too late. They had removed the wood that connected the vessels. You were stuck, and the Red Tail seemed significantly smaller. 

It was sinking.

It only took a few minutes before everyone and the viscous sea ate everything you knew. Days later, it was still painful to look out at the horizon, seeing the vastness of the waters. 

The seemingly neverending darkness that had swallowed those who fought for you, hoping to keep you safe. And for what… you were now stuck in this prison. Eating the damned apple. For the first few days, you tortured yourself by refusing their offers of food. A form of protest that no one seemed to be much impressed by. The myths of poor Persephone had come to your mind in those moments. Thinking how the goddess had been tricked by the evil Hades, all for a measly pit of a fruit. 

But your body screamed for nutrients, and you could not deprive yourself much more of your own life. To die at sea could be an honour for many, but not in a dark cell captured by the enemy. You had no intentions of dying because of your stubbornness, but you would never give in to what they wanted. If it came to be, you would pass on your own terms.

It was days now since the Red Tail sank. During your first moments on board, you had a naive hope that you had not been the only person taken. That somewhere around, someone else was here with you. A known face, a name you didn’t have to fear. The idea of the possibility brought you a little comfort, but soon you realised the harsh truth. You were entirely on your own here. But worse, even, was that you realised that, perhaps, death in battle and the fierce ocean waves would have been a kinder sentence than the horrors awaiting you aboard this vessel. 

It had all started in the moments the Red Tail was abandoned. You kept your eyes on its crow nest, reaching out from above the water like a desperate hand in need of a saviour. 

But you had no option but to dwell on the wreckage or the lost souls of your friends. Not when you were surrounded by dozens of men looking hungrily at you as if you were nothing but a piece of meat for them to devour. They were closing in on you; there was nowhere to go. Any direction you looked… 

Surrounded by wild men screaming and tugging at you from each side, pulling you from side to side like a rag doll. They all wanted a little fun, but playtime was cut short rather quickly by the simple sounds of boots tapping over the floorboards. Everyone looked up as his voice loomed over everybody:

‘Well, well, well, what do we have here?’ It sounded almost whimsical, bemused. Everyone froze as the captain approached his crew. Even you did, looking up as he walked down the quarterdeck towards the large helm. The floor creaked with each step. The chains and beads hanging around his neck and hair accompanied him in a chorus. Not another word needed to be shared.

He stood there, looking down at what was occurring beneath him. Fingers clad in silver and gold rings tapping away at the handles of the ship’s wheel. When you looked a few inches higher, you recognised that his eyes were directly on you. There was no hiding or denying it. He was staring deep into your eyes. The corner of his mouth tilted up in the slightest smirk. The position in which the two of you stood made you feel like you were some kind of act for him. An entertainment piece for him to enjoy in his own time despite you being surrounded by all his men. It felt perverse. Disgusting. You quickly turned away. 

But the image of those dark brown eyes stuck with you. Days later, and it still haunted you, the day you met Captain Eddie Munson.

The name was not much by itself. The stories that followed it brought fear onto people’s faces. For years now, you had overheard the people back home speaking tales of the notorious ocean bandit. The man who had sailed the seas with sails as dark as his eyes and soul.

You had never expected much from a man with a name like that, but you were quickly proven wrong. 

The respect he had gained over the crew was evident; you could see it just by how everyone had paved the way for their captain and his strides of confidence as he made his way down onto the deck. There was an energy that came from within him, this dangerous confidence. Maybe because of this, you felt like ignoring his eye contact would be a shot worth taking, something to crack that filthy grin on his face as he neared you. The crew had widened their circle to make space for their captain and you, but you took a step back at each he brought forward. Your attempt was quickly stopped by whoever pushed you again right into his chest. The captain grinned at the collision, almost politely, apologetically, but it made you sick to the stomach. 

He looked up from you to look at his men. 'Is anyone going to answer me?' his voice carried, making you flinch from your proximity to it, just like the canons. It was too loud. Your ears had almost stopped ringing from the explosions.

'Was hiding in the officer's quarters, she was.' Someone called out from behind Captain Munson, which must have interested him. To be a woman in the officer's quarters on a ship like yours… meant status. You could tell he looked at you intently but would not give him the satisfaction, and your eyes did not give him the time of day, instead focusing on the highest mast and the sail flickering softly in the wind. Not pitch black like the tales told, but a sunburned copper. Even despite this, you could feel his look on you. He was taking all of you in, grinning over his newest conquest. 

'And what was a pretty thing like her doing up there?' While his question was directed at everyone else but you, he dug his eyes deep into your soul. They were pulling you in, trance-like. A pair of irises darker than amber but just as warm and beautiful. A facade for a lie, as there was only cold and darkness beyond the warm hue, the cursed soul of a criminal. You had heard stories of men like him, but to find yourself in the midst of them, knowing it was more true than any other tale told at sea, to be held captive as if in an inescapable nightmare… 

Being oppressed into looking him in the eyes, you couldn't help but think how he, and his comrades, could have been perfectly fine young men in any other life. Maybe they even had been until the ocean took them, poisoned them with the cursed fruit of the sea. Corruption was so quickly and easily committed.

His hand, filthy, covered in tattoos and heavy rings, reached out for your cheek, which you quickly turned away from him as far as possible. You had hoped it would show him you weren't some fragile little girl, that you weren't just easy prey, but the laughter that erupted around you proved you wrong. He chuckled as his fingers found a new grip on your chin, turning your face back harshly, so you had no other option but to look him in the eye again.

‘Name, my darling,’ he smiled wickedly, squeezing your cheeks until you could feel the tips of his fingers against your teeth before letting your face go, ‘come, speak up, or that tongue will have to find a new use for itself.’ His words came out like a hiss of a snake.

'I am not your darling,' you spat once he had released you, to little effect as more laughter kindled from the men around you. You wondered how much time you would have from the shock value if you went on a rampage and started to kick all of them in their most sensitive parts. How many would you be able to get through before one of the others would grab you, possibly throw you overboard? 

The Captain kept on smiling. 'I must call you something if you do not care to share your name with us, my darling.' His erring grin burned your skin like a hot kettle fresh off the fire. 

'Carver called her something, Captain,' someone had shouted out, and Munson’s reaction was immediate when they repeated your name. His eyes widened, his grin spiked at the corners, showing his teeth, and his brown eyes glistened with enthusiasm. Then, jaggedly, as if remembering something suddenly, he moved his head around, looking around.

'Carver? Our dear friend Carver?' He looked around for whoever it had been that had spoken up a second ago, 'where is that pesky little–'

'Stabbed,' the crewmate responded, 'bled out on the ship,' a chorus of cackling surfaced among the men, but the captain looked a bit disappointed, hiding his amusement. Meanwhile, the mention of what you witnessed moments before stung you deep within.

'Shame. I would have liked to have seen that,' he said, with astonishing indifference covering his face, then he turned to you again, 'so, you were Carver's little toy, huh? I assure you, dear, you'll have much more fun here than with that stale little bilge rat.'

'I am nobody's toy.' You held back on shoving the man away or trying to act out of self-defence against any of his movements, knowing that upsetting him would not end in any better scenario than you were in at that given moment. 

'No, no,' he chuckled, pouting his lips in a manner of mocked sympathy, ‘A princess like you takes what she wants, don't you? We're similar in that way, I feel like— Where did you find her, Henderson, the officer's quarters, was it?' Perhaps the rest of his crew had been too slow to catch onto their captain's thoughts, but you could tell by the glint in his eye that he knew exactly who you were. 

'If you know who I am,' you tried your luck, pushing your voice out as steady and loud as possible to convict some confidence, 'then you must release me at once!' you tried to fight the situation. Still, there was very little you could do to gain a reaction out of this crowd that had not originated in humour. Some men asked around, still trying to catch up on what was happening. 

‘Now, why would I do that?’ The captain spoke directly to you, leaning in closer. So close you could smell the rum wafting off him. But he quickly leaned back to address his crew once more, answering all the inquiries in the crowd. 'This here, gents, is no one less than the Governor's daughter!'

It may have been silly of you to think that if they knew your status and position, they would find some newly gained respect for you. You would even find some small ounce of respect toward them as long as they would release you back to safety. But where would that even be… with your trusty ship now slowly greeting the bottom of the sea.

On the contrary, they had lost any image of you. From that moment on, you had become their most-priced possession. No plea would do good for it. It did not matter that mere minutes ago, you had seen them all make their way back, faces happy and arms full of treasures belonging to your family. What good were these riches when the real treasure stood tall in their centre? You were the one thing that would bring in the motherload they had been searching for for so long.  

The captain looked back at you. 'Do not worry; we shall release you straight back into your father's arms– for a reasonable price, that is,' he looked around at his men, who all once again erupted in a jolly sea of laughter, matching his much softer depiction of humour. 'But for now….' He dramatically removed his hat as his unbrushed locks grazed the floor at his bow. When he rose back up, his grin had spread to the widest corners of his mouth, and his dark eyes were filled with menacing mischief, freezing your core at the thought of what he could possibly be holding back in his mind. 'Welcome aboard the Hellfire.' 

The Hellfire. A crew that rampaged and torched anything that came in their way. Ships, harbours, cities, entire islands even… nothing stood a chance against the devils of the ocean… Devils, that’s what they were. Some truly believed they had all been cursed by something dark. Their lives had been given up to work for Satan as his harbingers of death and chaos. 

But you would only see a little of the ship or experience much more time with these men, as, not long after your introduction, you were dragged down below deck and locked behind the thick steel bars. The captain kept his eyes locked on you until you disappeared into the trapdoor. His smile never faded. And so, it was a dreadful sight to see that days– perhaps even months– later, the smile still persisted. 

How long precisely this nightmare had lasted, you were unsure. Or maybe you knew exactly. Would it have been better to lose count of the days and nights you had spent in this hell and think you might have lost your mind? Or to remember everything exactly how it had been, knowing what was and what would follow? For now, you were somewhere in between and unsure of what direction to go. A grey limbo where your body and mind were fighting themselves. Whether to give up or keep on battling your enemies. To forget would be to ease the pain, but it would also feel like losing the battle. Something you were not ready to do just yet. Though the memories still haunted your dreams. Was any of it worth it? That was the question that kept you up. 

And it was answered, more or less, when the trapdoor opened. Just as you were about to take your last bite of the apple. 

‘Will it be the rope then?’ you shouted as the footsteps came down to your level. Suddenly the apple felt much juicier, sweeter, and better than anything you had tasted in weeks. The odds would be in your favour, and you would get your way… even if it meant a measly ten minutes out in the cold sea air. 

‘Be my guest, princess.’ The voice immediately made your stomach drop. The sweet taste of the fruit turned bitter, the bread even drier. You looked up in horror as Captain Munson appeared out of the shadows. He leaned against the thick bars that imprisoned you. Then, when no response came from you after a long moment, he asked, ‘what? Not so brave anymore, are we?’ The chuckle that followed was deep but genuine. He was enjoying everything about your fear and you; you could not let that stand. 

With shaky legs, you got up and took the two steps to your barricade. Facing the captain should have been terrifying, but you were using your stubbornness to push any fears aside for the time being. As confidently as possible, you clenched your fists around two of the bars, gritted your teeth, and demanded: ‘Let me out.’

‘Have your parents never taught you manners, my darling?’ He did not seem to be phased by your attitude. 

‘You dare speak of manners to me?’ You could not keep yourself composed. Heat was rising to your cheeks with anger. ‘You? The man that has kept me locked in a cage for days?’ Who knew where this confidence came from in front of the notorious pirate captain? If anyone had seen you act out like this as opposed to such a dangerous criminal as he was, they would assume you had a death wish, yet this was your attempt at survival.

He reached his hand out to brush it over your cheek, and unable to react quickly; you let him. It was as if his touch had a numbing power over you, freezing you in place. His skin was hot, assumably from staying out on the deck during the day, steering the ship whichever way you were going. But then his rings, a sobering cold. His voice was as smooth as the rum he burned it with. ‘Do you blame me for wanting to keep my treasure save?’ 

‘You are despicable.’ You hissed out, and suddenly his gentle touch roughened up. His fingers wound their way through your hair, and with a firm tug, he pulled you forward, nearly smashing your face against the bars. His voice was distorted with a growl as he warned you. 

‘You don’t even know the half of it, darling,’ you were so close to each other, only separated by the metal rods, you could feel his breath on you. There was that distinct smell of rum followed by… cinnamon. There was no way you could focus on that, however. Not when he pulled at your hair harder. ´If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have that pretty dress, no more. Let alone even have food to disgust over. Besides–’  He let go of your hair, pushing you back and you let go of the breath you had been holding in. ‘This attitude really does not suit you.’ 

As you let your lungs fill with a fresh breath, you watched the captain inhale slowly. He was composing himself. And when he looked back up at you, from a first glance, it looked as if he had pushed aside the part of him that had just grabbed you. All except for his eyes. They were still dark and filled with the devil’s fury.

‘So,’ he spoke calmly, ‘is there a reason why you threatened your life to my incompetent men for the– what is it– fifth time?’ You had a request, did you?’ Was he really giving you a chance? Trying to mimic his calm stature, you repeated your demand. 

‘Let me out.’ 

To this, he raised an eyebrow. Did you not learn anything from the interactions that just occurred between you?  Why, yes, you did, so you added one last determined word: ‘Now.’ 

Against all expectations, he laughed and reached for a set of keys that hung on the wall next to your jail. It must have been a well-thought-out joke because it had always been just out of your arm’s reach, no matter how you angled or stretched yourself out. Because you naturally had tried to reach for it across your first nights of capture when most of the crew was asleep– you didn’t want to be caught trying to escape. 

The captain took the key, it rattled on its large ring, and turned it in the lock. With a rusty croak, the barred door opened. He extended his arm invitingly, but you stood frozen in place. What was happening? 

‘Isn’t this what you wanted?’ He looked up at you, one arm hooked between the bar, the other nudging you to move with a wave. ‘Well, go on then. Be free.’ He knew exactly what he was doing, and you realised it at the sound of his last word. 

Despite your cage finally being open, unlike a bird, you could not fly away and truly escape this ghost of a ship. You had nowhere to go. For days, you had thought it would be alright if only you could get out of this jail. Reality hit much harder. It was much worse. Out in the middle of the vast sea, there was nowhere for you to go. The ship was your true prison. 

You remained in your spot, frozen. Finally, the captain nodded satisfactorily and removed the key from the lock but kept the door open.

‘I’ll be on my way now if you do not mind, darling’ He chuckled again. It had quickly become one of your most hated sounds in the world, ‘but do join us on deck if you ever feel like putting on another performance such as this. I would suggest something of the likes of Shakespeare, though– much less hysterics.’  

You wanted to scream at him, run up to him and hit him with every ounce of power in your body, but you couldn’t. He could easily overpower you, and God only knew what would happen. Keeping a distance was better. It was safe.

 From that point on, the jail door stayed open. With it, another realisation came to light.

That steel barred door, now swinging and creaky as the ship crossed the waters, had been the one thing that kept you safe. It had been a barrier between you and the wild men of the ship. 

Now, for whatever reason, they kept to themselves. Depending on who had drawn the short stick to bring you a meal, you only came into contact with one or two crewmates a day. There was no eye contact and no more conversation attempts. You had become like an animal they just tried to keep alive until you reached your destination or until boredom hit… and you weren’t sure if it was for the better or worse. 

Chapter 2

thank you so much for reading!! if you want more of where this came from, check out my masterlist.

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[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

The Phoenix and the Crow

part thirteen

pairing: kaz brekker x reader

genre: angst/neutral

el's thoughts: this... is the "official" final part of the series! thank you so so much for all the love and support y'all have given me! i left the ending in a place where i can always come back and pick it up if i wanted to. so with that being said, please enjoy this part! i hope you like it as much as i loved writing it! please remember to reblog and comment :)

masterlist

Nikolai leaned heavily on Toyla while Tamar walked on his other side, both siblings leading him to a place to sit. The crows followed silently behind the group of three, watching the other soldiers carry their dead.

“Long may the night carry our souls until the dawn renews us.” Toyla said as he helped the young king sit on a wooden crate. 

“Rabinov. Canto Seventeen.” Kaz spoke, leaning forward on his cane. 

Toyla smiled, “Seems we both share an appreciation for life’s beauty.”

Nikolai let out a soft groan when he put some of his weight on his wounded shoulder. Tamar placed her hand on his back, “Are you okay?”

“A moment of sun before we deal with our losses.”  The blonde stared blankly in front of him. “Dominik…” He cut himself off as he felt emotions rising in his throat at the thought of the loss of his best friend. 

“He did exactly what any of us would have done for each other. For you.” Tamar’s voice held nothing but conviction as she spoke. 

The group's attention was taken away from each other when they noticed five people walking into their camp. Alina lead the group while Mal followed behind everyone. Nina stopped at the line of dead soldiers and stood in her place with a distant look in her eyes. Y/N froze in her steps a few paces before the heartrender, lost in her own mind as she observed the people around her. Kaz stared at her with a flash of concern in his piercing eyes. Nikolai watched the small, nearly unnoticeable interaction with slight interest before he saw Inej hand the blade to Alina. 

Alina ran off to find Mal and before Inej walked over to the other crows she turned to Y/N. She held her hand out to call her over causing the inferni to smile softly to herself. She followed the suli girl a few paces behind her finally looking over the rest of their crew. Kaz watched her intently, waiting for her to make eye contact finally and when she did neither was brave enough to break it. A strong sense of longing filled Y/N’s chest but she held her ground, only nodding at the man before going over to Nikolai and the twins. 

“And Kirigan?” Nikolai asked. 

“Dead.” Y/N’s voice was cold and emotionless as she avoided looking into their eyes. “Zoya is protecting the body. Alina wants it burned.”

A wave of unspoken relief washed over the trio seated before her.

The young king rose to his feet and faced the crows. “Thank you. My country might have been sunk if you hadn’t arrived.” His lips formed a faint smirk, “Again.” 

“We’ll settle those thanks in gold.” 

Y/N’s eyes only lifted from the ground in front of her at the sound of Kaz’s gravelly voice.

Tamar and Toyla helped Nikolai limp away with Nadia and her brother following the trio. 

“He’s right, you know. We do have our adventures. We should hire a writer to jot down our story.” As Jesper spoke, Wylan moved to stand next to Kaz while Y/N stayed seated on the wooden crates.

“What will we call it?” The zemini continued. “The four charming rouges of Ketterdam. Yes.” He smiled to himself with pride. 

“There’s six of us.” Kaz said quietly as he glanced between Nina and Y/N.”

Jesper snapped his fingers, “Right. Six of cro-”

~

Y/N stood with Nina and the horse’s stroking their manes while leaning her head against one of their necks. She heard the muffled sound of Kaz’s cane coming towards them and she swiftly moved behind the horses so she wouldn’t have to see him directly.

“You might be a Saint now.” Kaz said to Nina. “Bringing someone back from the dead.”

“I wish I could take credit. Wasn’t me. She’s the real Saint.” They both turned to look at Alina talking with Nikolai.

“Once the world stops looking at her with gratitude, they’ll start to wonder if she's outstayed her welcome. That’ll be dangerous.” Kaz’s words caused Y/N's mind to run wild with uncontrollable thoughts. How were the people to react once they saw her for what she truly was? Where was she supposed to stay if she had to ture home? Her whole existence’s purpose was to protect grisha, at least that’s what Kirigan told her. She was to be a shield for those too weak to make their own. She was trained to willingly sacrifice herself over and over again. She didn’t know a life without that mentality.

“She may be the first person I’ve met who is both of the two most dangerous types in this world.” Nina’s voice shook her from her thoughts. 

“And which two are those?” Kaz asked. 

“Those defending their happily ever after. And those who don’t know how to find their way to one.” The heartrender spoke while watching him expectantly.

“Sounds like someone else I know.” He diverted. 

“I can't make peace with this place. I’m not giving up on my happily ever after.” Nina shook her head, “I’ll claw my way to one. If he’ll let me.”

Kaz’s eyes moved past Nina to the pair of boots standing behind one of the horses before looking back at the girl in front of him. “Let me help you.”

Y/N smiled softly to herself at the sound of determination in his voice. Proud of the small bit of care for his friends breaking through his walls. 

~

The heat was scorching as they all stood around Kirigan’s body that laid on a bed of firewood. Y/N extended her hand from where she stood and lit the two torches where they laid in their basket. She stood next to Zoya with Genya and Alina next to them. The crows stood behind the girls while Nikolai and his soldiers stood on the stone steps in front of everyone. 

Kaz stood directly behind the inferni, everything in his being screamed to place a hand of comfort on her shoulder but he knew he couldn’t. Instead he was left to watch in affliction as her shoulders visibly tensed beneath her uniform, her hands clenched and unclenched at the sight of the Darkling’s body before her. The man who caused her mental and emotional pain for years before she was able to escape. Before Kaz was able to do everything in his power to keep her safe and out of harm's way the best he could. 

“You go.” Alina spoke to Zoya and Genya. “You both have every right.”

Zoya lit the bed of firewood first, her eyes never leaving the Darkling’s pale face as she tossed the torch next to his feet. Genya then walked forward and lit the wood next to his head, making sure the fire caught before turning and handing the torch to Alina. 

“No grave. Nothing left.” Alina spoke as she stood before the body. “Goodbye, Aleksander.” She threw the torch onto him and walked back to stand beside Genya. 

Y/N moved her hands subtly twirled her fingers to spread the fire over the bed of wood while Nikolai walked down the steps.

“Today is a new beginning.” The young king started his speech. “For all of Ravka. Hell, for our whole world. It’s a bit daunting, isn't it? Knowing where to go from here.” He looked at the four girls at the front of the group, Alina and Genya holding hands while Y/N and Zoya stood beside each other like soldiers. “We’ve had a singular focus for so long. So much blood has been shed. After hundreds of years separated by the Fold, we can celebrate a unified Ravka. Our neighbors to the North will see us united and will aim to strike. But often it’s not the battle that takes the most from us. It’s the aftermath. The chance to put the pieces of our lives back together.” He focused his attention on Y/N, the girl holding eye contact with him. “When a Phoenix rises for the ashes, it is not the same. But in that rebirth, is potential. Potential for a new purpose.” 

Y/N turned her head down to stare at her sandy boots. Hyperawear of Kaz’s lingering eyes on the back of her head.

“Thanks for what Alina has done for us,” Nikolai continued. “We all have a chance to better the world now that the Fold is gone. Above all, you must trust. Trust in each other. In yourselves. Trust in the fact that this is the start of better days to come. And it won’t be easy, of course. Nothing is.” He looked around the group of soldiers and thieves. “I had hoped to end that on a more uplifting note, but here we are.”

The crows all walked away, glancing back at Y/N every-so-often as she stood with her eyes glazed over while she stared at the charred body of General Kirigan.

Alina wrapped her arm around Genya and looked to the other two girls silently asking them to come closer. Zoya stepped first and reached her hand out to Y/N, drawing her into her side. Nikolai watched the four girls with an ache in his chest but a slight smile on his lips before he too followed the rest of the group. Leaving them there to have their final moments alone. 

~

Y/N sat with her hand’s clasped in front of her on her knees. Her eyes were closed as her lips moved in a silent prayer. She prayed for her country and the road ahead of them they’d have to pave. She prayed for her old friends and new found friends. For them to find peace and happiness in every step forward from now on. 

The last of her prayers fell from her lips when she heard soft footsteps down the hall followed by the unmistakeable clicking of her favorite cane. She closed her eyes and bit back her smile when she felt him walk into the small chapel room.

“Lantsov paid up.” Kaz said. “Everyone will get their cut.”

“I didn’t do this for the money, Brekker.” Y/N replied, her eyes still focused on the stained glass portrait of Alina. She sighed when he didn’t say anything. “And Nina?”

“She’ll receive a pardon for deserting and another for her Fjerdan.” The inferni looked back at him, his eyes not meeting her as he updated her. “As long as he stays out of trouble, the charges will be dropped.”

She nodded and faced forward once again, opening her mouth to say something then quickly decided against it and bit her tongue.

“I also…” Kaz cleared his throat. “Wanted to say goodbye.”

Y/N felt her eyes glaze over as she turned to look at him, “I didn’t think you were the sentimental type.” Her smile faded when he didn’t say anything, his eyes avoiding her at all costs. “Who said I wasn’t going back to Ketterdam? I have to say… That city has grown on me.”

“Ravka is your home. You and I both know that you need to stay. Your country still needs you, Y/L/N. They’ll need someone to help lead, not a king, not a sun Saint. They’ll need a strong soldier.”

Y/N turned away from him quickly, blinking back her tears. That was the last thing she hoped to hear. How she still had to keep fighting for her country, for the people who hadn't done much for her in return. She couldn’t go back with the people who had shown her true kindness. Not yet anyway.

She swallowed hard before speaking, “I know this won’t mean much to you… but I pray for him. For the person who you once were. And you.”

“I don’t want your prayers.”

“What do you want then?” 

Kaz stared at her as she looked down at her hand and twisted her fingers together. And all at once, that familiar sense of longing settled in his stomach. What did he want? For her to let go of her morals and values just to come back to Ketterdam with him? For her to be one of his crows or something more? To be able to see her everyday in the normalcy of the Barrel. To have everyday conversations with her. To get to know her better than anyone has ever tried. For her to trust him just as he felt he could trust her. What did he want? Her.

“To die, buried under the weight of my own gold.” His mind screamed at him for lying. For lying to her of all people.

Y/N chuckled humorlessly, “More money. More scores to settle.” With a deep breath she rose to her feet and walked closer to him. Her actions startled him for a split second. “Was there never another dream?” His lack of response caused her to nod and start walking past him. 

The sudden urge to reach out for her washed over Kaz so strongly he finally gave in. His gloved hand clasped around her wrist. “Stay.”

She froze at the feeling of the leather on her skin, the air leaving her lungs in a gasp. 

“Stay in Ketterdam.” He choked out the words. “Stay with…” He couldn’t finish  his thought as she turned around to face him. 

She smiled softly as she looked at their hands “What would be the point?” She moved her hands to hold his one in both of hers. “We both don’t know what we’re getting ourselves into yet, and that’s okay. You’re not ready and… I might not be either.” She let out a sigh. “You have a kingdom of your own back in Ketterdam to run and I have a country to help run. We… We have jobs to do, you said so yourself. But-” She finally brought her eyes up to his and licked her lips in thought as her mind ran over her next words. “But if you’re also willing and the Saints above see it fit… I’ll wait. For you. I’ll be here waiting for you whenever you’re ready. I will have you, Kaz Brekker, when you’re ready. That’s my promise to you.” She smiled one last time up at him before letting go of his hand and walking out of the chapel room.

Kaz continued to stare where she once stood and gave in to the slight quirk of his lips. When he’s ready. That was something he could live with.

~*~*~

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[achaotichuman]

The Mother's Least Favourite Son

Out of spite, I have written this. Hope you guys like broken mating bond Lucien angst.

@lorcanisdabest here is the Lucien angst you oh so wanted~

Trigger warning- Suicide.

Lucien stumbled through the dark. Tripping over something thrown carelessly across the cobblestone ground, an arm shot out to grab the nearest wall to stabilise himself. Skin scraping against the cold wet stone, it burned as it pulled away, blood beginning to prick the surface. 

Why? 

Why did it have to-

He lurched forward, and a crate at his feet caused him to fall to the ground. Dirty water splashed across his face, ruining his formerly perfect clothing. His trousers now wet and stained. His pristine Night black jacket now half covered with mud. 

Fuck-

It lurched in his chest again. Screaming like a torture victim locked in a cage. Bleeding from the inside.

Golden threads that were cut and exposed like raw nerves. His heart beat faster than it ever had in his life. His hair fell around his face. Rain dripped down from above, beginning to race faster and faster to the surface of the earth, until it hurtled down upon him. 

The stars were no longer visible. The alleyway, and the darkness it provided was his only comfort or protection. 

A sob ripped from deep within the back of his throat. Each pitter of rain that fell upon him he felt starkly. Like needles were pouring down on him. 

Why?

What did he do wrong?

Fuck-

He asked for an answer, did he not?

He wanted to know what she wanted. 

Break it, or accept it. 

He offered his heart on a platter. 

Like his heart would ever be enough. 

He fell back against the wall behind him. Eyes tilted to the sky. 

What the fuck did he do to deserve this?

The sky held no answers, nothing spoke back to him. As his skin burned, flesh bubbling under the surface. 

The thunderclouds rolling in the sky tormented him. Laughing as it was split with lightning. Turning the sky to flashing works of silver. Velaris was laughing around him. The Court his mate belonged to pointed and ridiculed the outcast that thought it could crawl in and find comfort. 

No home Court. No mate. 

The Mother’s least favourite son. The Cauldron’s hated creation. 

Her eyes had held no remorse. No care. She hadn’t even put down her knife, as she cut vegetables on the wooden board. She looked up to him. Those soft brown iris had never looked harder. 

“Please, just an answer.”

The Inner Circle stood around him. Feyre flanking Elain’s left, and Nesta on her right. Rhysand picked a piece of lint from his jacket, eyes laughing even as his mouth was firmly straight. Cassian however looked fully and utterly amused at the situation. Azriel stood behind Elain, eyes dead on Lucien. Waiting like a trap to be sprung. 

“Then here’s your answer.” Elain whispered into the space between them. 

Then it broke. 

And Lucien screamed. 

Cassian practically dragged him out. His legs unable to hold him up for long periods of time. They let him fall to the ground. Rain starting. There was no sympathy in his eyes, not even a hint of pity. Just laughing amusement as the door slammed shut. 

Even from out there, in the cold of the night with the door separating the Fox from the inside, he could hear the cheering and the celebrations.

Chest heaving, skin too tight, fire burning and burning and burning. 

Through a window he saw the form of Azriel, shadowsinger, wrap his arms around his rejected mate. 

Lucien had run. 

Run and fell across the floor, scraping his arms before he ran again. 

Another wretched cry was torn from his throat, as he screamed to the sky, “Why? Why fucking me?”

What did I do wrong?

Hated son. 

Exiled. Outcasted. 

Were mates not supposed to love each other more than sun or moonlight? 

Were they not supposed to rather give themselves up then each other?

Where were the stories? Where were the tales? Why did he not get that?

Fucking why?

The cold rain dripped from strands of his hair, down his face, and disappeared down his neck. His body began to shiver, wishing, begging, to draw up fire to warm himself. He let his body shudder and quake, barely feeling the cold pressing in under the weight of the bond now floating out in nothing. 

Darkness edged in, spreading from some place in his chest through the rest of his body. Until he felt hollow, unseeing. Lucien could barely hear anything at all. 

A sharp pain shot through his side, and he looked up to see a male with green hair and purple skin. Wide eyes, all black, glaring down at him. 

“Beat it kid, no loitering around here.” He snarled. 

“Sorry, I’m, I’m sorry.” Lucien said quickly, voice quivering. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” The male said, as Lucien got to his stumbling feet. As the Fox made for the mouth of the alleyway, he heard him mutter, “Stupid kids.”

Stupid kid. 

Stupid kid indeed. 

Lucien left the alleyway. The rain pounded down harder, the thrum resembled the beating of drums. Lightning forked, and thunder cracked the sky. A familiar song, a dance that had followed him since the day Jesminda had been slaughtered in front of him. 

He had spent his days running from the song. The beating that would never cease, howling through the night, hurtling towards him. 

Death did not come silently. 

It came with war horns, riding into battle like screaming a cry. Music played in its wake. A tune no one had heard but everyone knew. 

Lucien closed his eyes, as his heart fell into sync with the beat. His voice a gentle hum as thunder whipped again. As that song raised its tune. 

He stuck his hands in his pockets. He looked ahead. And he winnowed. 

The view of Velaris gave way to dark foliage. Oranges and reds covered one side of the earth, and the other was filled with spidering dark greens and untrained brambles. 

The border of Spring and Autumn. 

The rain had not stopped. The storm had spread through Prythian as if waiting for him. 

It poured down upon him, until he was practically drowning on land. The ground of Autumn was practically unrecognisable as such, as the dried leaves were turned to muddy decay by the rain. 

Lucien fell back and stared up at the sky. 

A familiar tune. 

It had been waiting for him. 

The Mother’s least favourite son. 

He closed his eyes. 

He hoped he wouldn’t ever open them again. 

***

Three years passed and it never got better. 

It got worse. 

So, so much worse. 

Waking up and seeing the ceiling was agony. Most days he stopped bothering trying to get out of bed. Eating had become a rare occasion, so much so that Jurian and Vassa couldn’t hide their excitement when he took so much as a half bite out of his food. 

He didn’t know if Prythian remembered him; he hadn’t set foot in any of the Courts since the day Tamlin found him at the border. That was at least what he was told when he woke up. Something about the rotting High lord bringing him to the Band of Exile’s manor before disappearing back to Spring. 

Lucien didn’t care. All his thoughts were drowned out by mate, mate, mate, mate. 

He couldn’t think of anyone, of anything else, other than her brown eyes, and curls, and red stained cheeks and lips.

There was nothing else to him, nothing anymore. 

He stopped hoping she would return to him. As the darkness, the hollowness caved in. Pillars of marble in his mind turning to dust, whatever he used to know becoming nothing in the face of the broken bond. 

The last time he spoke, he didn’t know. The last time he went outside, he didn’t know. 

His skin was pasty, grey. His eyes deep with purple. Every bone on display, with his prosthetic eye sinking back into his socket, falling back from the shift in weight. 

His body was decaying. 

He stared at the ceiling. 

It wasn’t worth it. 

This would go on. 

And on.

And on, and on, and on. 

Prythian had forgotten him. His mate had rejected him. His last two friends, the last he could consider friends, were tied up with each other. 

He wasn’t worth his mate’s love. He wasn’t worth being remembered. 

“Might as well get it over with.” Lucien whispered to the ceiling, the first words he had vocalised in so long. 

For the first time in what may have been a week or more, he dragged himself from the bed he had practically become attached to. Limbs heavy, eyes fluttering, pain struck him from all sides and he wanted to fall back down and rot. 

But Jurian or Vassa would eventually convince him to a meal or something to keep him going if he stayed on the bed. 

So he walked. 

He walked to a dresser, where beside it laid a bag. It had all sort of provisions and things needed should he have been stranded somewhere in Prythian. He kept it packed ever since he was thrown out of Autumn. 

Mother’s least favourite son. Cauldron’s hated creation. 

Inside one of the back pockets was a long spiral of coarse rope. Rough against his weary hands as he pulled it out, a sudden disruption to the soft sheets Lucien was used to holding these days. 

Mother’s least favourite son. Cauldron’s hated creation. 

The curtain rod was sturdy and could hold a fair amount of weight, not that it mattered very much as he was practically just skin and bones. It took little to stand atop a chair by the window and put the rope over the rod. Part of Lucien wished Eris had never taught him to tie knots, if only so he didn’t know what to do now. 

Mother’s least favourite son. Cauldron’s hated creation. 

It was rough around his neck. He felt nothing. He didn’t want to feel anything. 

It was sunny outside. The flowers were in bloom. He saw Elain in the sunshine. In the flowers below him. He saw home in the ground, in the trees in the distance. He remembered the feelings of Autumn leaves under his hands. And he remembered the smell of pollen from Spring. He remembered the chill of Night’s air. 

He remembered her soft skin when he put his jackets over her arms after she came out of the Cauldron. 

Lucien let go of all memory as he let himself swing from the curtain rod. 

He hoped he wouldn’t remember in the Mother’s land of milk and honey. 

Mother’s least favourite son. 

Cauldron’s hated creation. 

#acotar #lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #lucien vanserra deserves better #elucien #elain archeron #elriel but not graphically described #tw elriel #acotar au #acotar headcannons

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Exit Plan

Epilogue for Sweet Treats AU: by character | chronological | epilogues

Warnings: these drabbles will include dark elements such as noncon, control, intimidation, and other stuff that may not be specified. Take this as you chance to scroll by.

Please let me know what you think <3

🍭🍭🍭

"So, how was your midnight walk?" You set down the heavy crate on the metal table with a grunt.

Coco doesn't look up as she dusts the thick wooden board with flour. The one time you tried to make a batch of her delicate scones, they came out like bricks. Ever since, you decided you'll be the muscle. Lifting, moving, dealing with hostile customers. Should one appear.

"Eh, it was cold," she grumbles, "couldn't sleep."

"Mm," you suck your teeth.

"What?" She looks at you beneath her lashes, her hands moving naturally on the dough.

"Where'd she go?"

"Hm?"

"Don't you lie to me too. I got up to get water and you were both gone. I know she didn't come back with you."

She sighs, "she's being stupid. I'm... I'm gonna talk to her, okay? But... she's... we're all dealing with a lot."

"You think after what those jackholes put us through, she wouldn't just walk straight up to the next one," you sneer, "dammit, Coco bean."

You cross your arms and sway, thinking as you turn listlessly. That mustached douchebag, the other one at the store, and the clone copy of the Winter Soldier himself. That's too many coincidences.

"What are you thinking?" Coco asks as he cuts the perfect triangles. You face her and grip the edge of the cold metal.

"We can't stay."

"What?"

"We've always known this isn't permanent and I don't trust it anymore."

"Look, he'll probably disappear now. He got what he wanted."

"Co," you interject, "it's not just him, or the one at the Lodge. There's another one."

"Another--"

"When I went to grab snacks. What would you know he has the same standard issue lip warmer and everything."

The blade hits the wood with a heavy thunk as your eyes meet, "what are you saying? You think they know each other?"

"I know we're seeing a lot of new faces in a deadbeat town. I don't wanna wait around and find that out."

"Hey," the door swings in from the other side, "we need more espresso."

You glare over at Birdy and scowl, "come get it yourself."

"Really?" She pouts and flops her feet like a toddler. She goes to the shelf to grab a bag and you move to block the door. She turns around and winces as she sees you blocking her way.

"Yeah really. You can go off all by yourself in the middle of the night by yourself, I think you can handle a couple ounces of beans.

"What? I--"

"Don't even try to lie."

"Candy," Coco utters.

"No, let's not tiptoe around it. You're sneaking around with that jerk and you're putting us all in danger."

"Candy, please, he's nice. I'm not... putting us in danger."

"Are you dumb?"

"Candy," Coco exclaims, "you don't have to be so mean."

"Seems I do. We can't fuck around with this. I'm not going back," you square your shoulders and drop your hands to your hips. "I love you but I won't do it. Not for either of you. If that mean I have to leave you--"

"Leave? Candy, please," Birdy squeezes the bag of beans as she pleads with you, "you can't go."

"I go or we all go. I'm not staying here and getting knee deep in the shit again."

"Lloyd isn't like that--"

"You don't know him. I don't care if he makes you feel good, it's not worth it and we all know that."

There's silence. Commiseration as you stand in memory of the before. Of those men and their power over you.

Birdy sniffs and wiggles her nose, "alright, I'll say goodbye and--"

"No, he can't know we're leaving. We can't let anyone know. Pack only what you need and nothing else. Someone else will sort this place out."

Coco looks mournfully down at her unbaked scones. She takes the knife and resumes her precise cutting. Birdy inches towards you as you keep your stance tall.

"I won't tell," she mopes, "okay?"

You huff and put your hands to your neck, "Birdy, don't do that. I'm looking out for you. For all of us."

"I know," she looks at the wall, "I'm just as stupid as ever."

Coco sighs and you shake your head, "don't say that." You grab the bag from her arms, "stay and help with the baking. I'll get this going."

#dark!fic #au #august walker x candy #august walker x reader #dark august walker #august walker #mission impossible: fallout #sweet treats #series #drabble #drabble series

[usetheeauthor]

Adeline’s Hex +18 Smut

Slight Dom!Steven Grant x Black!Virgin!Reader

A/N: When I write the reader, the intention is so that it is inclusive. However, there aren’t much fics catered to black women specifically. Every now and then I want to write fics catered to a specific kind of reader so they’ll feel represented but honestly anyone can enjoy this fic 😊 Who wouldn’t with all the smuttiness that will ensue. This is a sex pollen fic,too. Please Enjoy!

Word Count: 2.4k words

Summary: When a mysterious artifact is delivered to the museum. You and Steven decide to inspect it. What you didn’t anticipate was the item containing a potent drug similar to ecstasy, sex pollen.

Warnings: age gap (legal), public sex, p in v (unprotected), loss of virginity, slight blood kink, black magic, slight dub con (via sex pollen), (reverse cowgirl) riding, oral sex (f receiving), graphic language

Adeline’s Hex

You’d gotten this huge opportunity to work in a very prestige Egyptian-centered historical museum in London having to move from the U.S. When you’d first arrive as the curator for the museum, you were incredibly nervous. After all you were young and just getting your foot in the door of the art world.

But then you met Steven Grant. The cute, wacky, intelligent mercenary who happened to speak French, too. Soon the two of you were the best of friends and you’d talk shit about your short-termpered boss, Donna, in French and developed your own insiders.

Although, you’d always found Steven to be quite attractive, you wouldn’t dare ruin the bond you both shared. Not to say that there weren’t any attempts on your part to showcase your attraction. You’ve definitely flirted with him on occasion. You laid it on thick sometimes, even. Yet, it didn’t seem like he paid you any mind in that kind of way. Why would he when he’s already had women fawning over him and hoping to bed him? You assumed that in his eyes he’d looked at you as the young, nerdy, naive art enthusiast looking for a mentor.

But you didn’t want a mentor or a friend in him. You wanted more. You’d fantasized about his hands and lips all over you nearly every night. It didn’t help that he’d give you light touches throughout the day either. Patting you on the back, moving the kinky curls of your hair from your eyes, fleeting hand touches. Not to mention, his intense stares when you’d go on rambling about a random topic. It was all too much.

It was evening. The museum closed. You were at your desk looking at some new arrivals to expect for the museum.

Steven closes up shop, heading over to you with a heavy wooden crate with a crowbar at the top.

“Delivery.” He singsongs.

I look up from my computer. “Where’d that come? I’ve already received all the needed packages for today.”

“I’m not quite sure but it’s postmarked to this very museum,” He sets it down on the desk before picking up the crowbar. “And it comes with a bonus gift!”

You stood up from your seat, going around your desk so that you could get a closer inspection of the box. The big, red word: “FRAGILE” plastered on the side.

“I wonder what it could be.” You say eyeing the thing.

“Worst case scenario: it’s a bomb.” Steven jokes.

“Well, no point in letting the time tick to zero,” You say, still studying the box for any clues. “Wanna do the honors or should I?”

“You mean, we’re going to actually open the creepy death box.”

“Yes, I’d kinda want to know if what’s in here is actually meant to be here or if we’d have to call SCO-19. Quit being a scaredy cat.” You teased.

“Since, I’m a gentleman,” He says with a shaky voice. “I’ll do the honors.”

You put a hand over your heart further teasing him. “Aw, my hero.”

Steven shoves the tip of the crowbar into the box’s top, hearing a crack to signal that its opening up. Steven still hesitant to open the box, you place a hand over his to grip the crowbar as well. You both look at each other, nod, then pull down.

A final crack sounds and the box is fully open and a cloud of dust disperses. Packing peanuts and bubble wrapped stuffed at the top of the box, obscuring your view of the items inside. Steven takes the initiative and puts his hand into the box and pulling out a porcelain doll with dark brown skin and a traditional Haitian dress. The doll had a sad expression on its face. A red ribbon tying a description tag to the doll’s right hand.

“A doll?” Steven asks, bewilderment in his tone.

“Looks familiar,” You take it from his hands, inspecting it. You notice Steven wiping his hands on his pants. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, just a bit of dust, is all.”

Thats’s when you read the name on the tag and your eyes widened. “La Peau de Lueur.” You whispered.

“Glow Skin,” Steven translates. “What does that…” Steven looks at his hands seeing it shimmer like glitter.

Your eyes widened. “My parents told me the story of this artifact as a child. When they were younger and living in a small village in Haiti, there was a woman, Adeline. She killed herself after learning of that her husband was unfaithful. When the authorities found the body, she was found clutching a doll in her right hand. Legend has it that she was a witch who dabbled in black magic and transferred her soul to the doll. Whoever is unlucky enough to encounter it will be hex’d. This dust is no ordinary dust, Steven. It’s some fucking kind of potent death pollen!”

Steven is now heavily breathing, a bead of sweat forming at his forehead. “Bloody hell,” He exclaims. “That can’t possibly be true. Are you saying we could die?”

“It sounds absurd, yes. But look at us. We’re a mess. It must be real.”

Your heartbeat was racing and the your skin shimmered. Steven had more exposure than you so his symptoms were full blown. His eyes were dark, lips pouty, raging erection straining his pants, and the shimmering against his olive skin made him look so delicious.

“There must be something we could do.”

Your legs felt like jelly. You rest your back against one of the tall pillars in the room for support.

You read the note on the card aloud.

*“Quand la poussière retombe

La peau brillera

La chaleur va monter

Tu rencontreras ta mort

Mais à travers les affres de l'extase

Alors tu seras Libra.”

“Throes of ecstasy? As in…”

You nod. “It’s the only way to break the curse.”

It was unfortunate that your first time having sex would be an involuntary decision. But somehow you felt worse for Steven. He’s no way attracted to you yet he’s forced in this union, too.

“Do you want this?” His body suddenly against yours. You were now sandwiched between his hard body and the hard pillar.

The aching and throbbing between your legs increases. “I do. I want it.” You bite back a moan as he ground himself against you, feeling his arousal. His body against yours gave some relief but it wasn’t enough.

He brings his both his hands up, sliding them over your clothed arms before settling them at the buttons of your cardigan. He looks up at you and you nod. Unbottoning the sweater, he pulls it off you before throwing it to the ground.

You wore flimsy white spaghetti stap top underneath. Your nipples hard, peaking through. He ghosts his lips over your collarbone as he lowers the straps to your top.

Then, He blows air against your neck while plucking at your nipples through your shirt. And you absolutely melt. “Mmm.” You moan with a shudder.

“Is that good?” He sounded so sexy. Lust clearly in his voice. His accent thicker than ever. You reminded yourself it was only the pollen that’s causing him to want you.

“Yes. So good.” You dig your nails into the small of his back.

“I can practically smell your arousal between your legs,” His lips now to your ear. “Would you like me to taste?”

You nod, frantically.

“Use your words, love.”

“Please. Taste me, Steven.” You say, breathlessly.

“Such a good girl.” He growls before his hands hikes up your pencil skirt. He slowly pulls down your underwear, lowering to his knees. Draping one of your legs over his shoulders, his face is now staring at your cunt.

He groans, bringing his finger up to spread your lips. “Look at that pretty pussy. So wet. So plump. Begging to be filled.”

His swipes his tongue quickly at your clit. You put a hand over your mouth to suppress a scream.

He pulls your hand away. “No. I want to hear you. Put your arms behind you. Wrap them around that pillar until I tell you to move them.”

You whine but all you could do was obey. His presence itself commanded it. “Keep your eyes on mine.” He says as he’s inching towards your pussy. His lips latching onto your clitoris.

You’re a writhing and moaning mess. Your moans bouncing through the walls of the museum. “St-Steven, f-fuck.”

“That’s it, darling. Scream for me,” His hot breath against your core. “Go on and let those hands free. Want them in my hair.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. Your hands immediately flew down to grip his dark curls, pushing his head further against you. You don’t know whether you want to throw your head back to scream or continue looking into his lust-filled eyes.

He’s gone completely feral. He feasted on your flesh as if you were the juiciest fruit. Your breathing becoming so frantic, you were worried you’d pass out.

“Mmm, you taste so fucking incredible.” He groans, kissing at your flesh. You notice him jerking himself as he ate you out.

“Steven,” You whimpered. You were so turned on by the sight of him getting pleasure from your pleasure. “I need you to fuck me. Now. I’m aching for you.”

“Gotta get you ready for me, love.”

He pushes a finger in you. Your eyes widen at the intrusion. You’ve had your fingers in you before but his were way thicker and longer. “Oh, my god. Oh, fuck.”

“A tight little thing, aren’t ya,” He says, pumping his finger in and out. “I’ll have to break you in.” He adds another finger, looking up to watch your reaction.

You squirm and cried out. His thick fingers stretched you in ways you weren’t sure were possible. He pumped in and out of you at a slow, teasing pace, rubbing at your clit with his thumb at a similar speed.

But then he adds his tongue into the equation once again. You were a goner. The coil finally snaps and you scream an ear -piercing scream. But his tongue doesn’t stop and he’s still pumping with his fingers at your sensitive core.

You were a sobbing mess and it only seemed to urge him on. This man was not the Steven you knew. The man you knew was shy, sweet, level-headed. But this Steven was a man possessed. “Oh god, please. I need your cock. I want you to ruin me.”

This seemed to be enough to end both of your torture because he pulls his mouth away from your dripping core. He spreads your cardigan on the floor. “Strip.”

You both quickly discarded of your clothes. Steven’s lying on his back on the cardigan. “I want you to ride me.”

You put your legs on either side of his body. Lowering yourself, your pussy hovering just above his erection. It stood tall, looked painfully hard but ready to enter you. It looked almost intimidating.

“I’m a virgin,” You confess. You know you were ruining the mood. But you had to let him know. Obviously, you had to do this or the inevitable will happen but you had to warn him in case the sex is bad. In case, he questioned you for your inexperience.

He looks up at me with pity. “Honestly, I would’ve wished to be able to take you out on a date before we went to this step.”

“D-do you mean that?”

“Yes,” He put his hands to his face. “I’m a fool for holding back for so long. I was just scared you didn’t see me that way. Not to mention, you’re much younger. I assumed you prefer men—“ He chokes out a moan as you lowed down on his dick taking his tip into you.

“Steven! Shit. You’re so fucking big,” You bring your hands back behind you, resting them on both his legs for support. “I want you to watch your cock filling me.”

You lowered yourself taking him inch by inch. The stretching causing a slight burn. Groans slipping from both your lips. You go up again and slide back down. Eventually, you find a delicious rhythm that has you both basking in its intensity.

“God, I love watching that tight cunt swallowing me whole.” His cock glistening from your slick and blood. He didn’t want to admit it to you but he took pride in seeing the blood as a reminder that he’s officially popped your cherry.

He’s dreamt of this moment for so long. He assumed you to be inexperienced because of the way you’d blush when anything remotely sexual was mention, but you’d been virgin. It made the most sense.

After going up and down a few times, pleasure took over most of the pain of being stretched and soon you brought your hands to his chest for support and slamming down your hips. He bottoms out.

“Ohhh, fuck.” Steven groans.

You ride him as if this was something you’ve done countless times before. You circle your hips and went up and down, teasing him a bit.

“You’re doing amazing,” He praises.

You lean in, kissing him. The kiss is hungry and your tongues fought for dominance as you continue to ride him. When you pulled away, a line saliva connecting your lips broke off against your chin and dripped down your chest.

“You’re so wet. You feel so good around me,” You clenched, he moans at the action. “I’m not gonna last long.”

“I’m gonna cum, too. Want your cum so badly. I want you to cum on my ass.” You whine. He growls at that proclamation. Your butt was one of the many parts of you that he loved.

You rotate yourself with his dick still inside, your back now facing him. He takes your hips and pounds into you. “Oh, fuuuck!” The pressure in your stomach building.

“Rub that clit for me, darling,” He moans. “Go on. Let me feel you cum.”

Those words were enough. You feel your orgasm crash into like a freight train. You rubbed at yourself frantically, trembling violently on his cock. Tears once again streaming down your face. Clenching super hard around him making it difficult for him to pump in and out of you. Your breath taken away. You gasp for air. Once you recovered your breath, you felt Steven’s thrust begin to falter.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” He pulls out of you with a groan and you feel the spurts of warmth on your ass. “Jesus Christ.” He breathes out, completely satisfied.

You slip off of him laying beside him on the cardigan. The two of you panting for air until you both broke out in giggles.

“I can’t believe we just fucked in the middle of the museum. We are so fired.” You laughed.

Steven laughs, shrugging. “Worth it.”

English Translation

* When the dust settles

The skin will shimmer

The heat will rise

You will meet your demise

But through the throes of ecstasy

Then so shall you be set free

#steven grant x reader #steven grant #moon knight x reader #moon knight #moon knight fanfic #marc spector x reader smut #steven grant x reader smut #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader fluff #marc spector x reader fluff #marc spector #jake lockley #jake lockely smut #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x reader smut #jake lockley x reader fluff #black reader #black reader fanfiction #black!reader #oscar isaac x reader smut #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac fandom #oscar isaac fanfiction #oscar issac x reader

[vaya-writes]

The Wyvern's Bride - Part 3.4

When Adalyn gets sacrificed to the local wyvern, she’s a little annoyed and a lot terrified. Upon meeting the wyvern, she discovers that he’s not particularly interested in eating people, and mostly wants to be left alone. In a plot to save himself from the responsibilities his family keep pushing on him, Slate names Adalyn as his human Envoy, and tasks her with finding him a wife.

2900 words. Cis female human x Cis male wyvern (slow burn, arranged marriage, eventual smut). firefly-graphics did the divider.

Masterlist - Previous

It's finally here. Please enjoy conflict resolution, gardening, and somebody finally taking the initiative. No notable content warnings. Mild descriptions of food and profanity.

To his credit, Slate does return on time. Adalyn watches him land, guarded and curious, from her spot at the dining table. There’s a thunk as a large wooden crate is set upon the balcony. A billow of shadow, and Slate appears after it, dressed neatly in his human form.  

He smiles. “Good morning, dearest!”  

“…good morning, Slate.” 

“I brought you something.” He waves her over, oblivious to her reticence.  

Reluctantly, she approaches. He bounces on his heels and grins at her again, cheeks flushed. His enthusiasm fazes her a little, but she’s not ready to forgive his unplanned absence. 

“Open it.” 

“It’s nailed shut.” 

He hesitates for a beat. “Right. Do you want me to..?” 

She gestures that he have at it. 

Slate uses his bare hands to pry open the crate. The lid groans and splinters under his touch, before cracking. His strength impresses her, but she doesn’t let it show. 

He steps back and removes the lid, now in several pieces, with a flourish. “Ta-da.” 

Bags of dirt. No. Bags of fertiliser. And... tools; pots, seedlings. She blinks. Everything she’d need to start a garden. Almost as if he’d read her mind. 

Adalyn doesn’t know what to say.  

At her silence, Slate’s smile falters, and he musses his hair, sheepish. “You left your garden plans out. I’m sorry I looked without asking. But I already had to go to Cheywyn so I thought I’d pick up your supplies... I can bring up soil from the forest and take you to Fleecehold to get clippings from your old garden. And I was thinking that once your garden is more established we could even talk to folks at one of the apiaries and see about getting a small hive up here-” He hesitates when he sees her expression. “Are you okay?” 

Adalyn closes her eyes. She lets out a long breath and takes a moment to compose herself. To relax her jaw. She doesn’t know how to answer his question. Doesn’t know if she should be honest, or if that would be showing too much vulnerability too soon.  

“This is a thoughtful gift. Thank you.” She speaks the truth, but struggles to inject any warmth into her tone. Instead she trudges inside and finishes making her drink. 

He follows her. Hesitates by the table. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

She works in silence. Mulls over her words while she takes a sip of her tea. Then shrugs. “I was - I am – quite upset with you. But you’ve gone and done something sweet and now it doesn’t seem fair to be mad.” 

He takes in her dejected posture. Pulls up the seat beside her. Puts his hand on the table, inches away from hers. “You can still be mad. How did I upset you?” 

She struggles to meet his eyes. “You told me you’d spend time with me. Show me your armour. And then you left without saying anything.” 

He pales. “Ancestors. I completely forgot. I’m so sorry.” 

She turns away. “It’s fine.” 

“No. It’s obviously not fine. You’ve every right to be upset.” He hesitates, “Look, I don’t want you to even consider the gift until I’ve made it up to you. I don’t want it to seem like I’m trying to buy your affection.” He shifts again, floundering at words. “How else can I make this better?” 

Adalyn lets her eyes drift back to him. He really does look concerned.  

“I don’t know.” 

“I owe you some quality time. Why don’t we go over the armour this morning and the weapons? Unless, of course, you wanted to be alone.” 

Adalyn leans back in her chair, arms crossed. She’s still upset. And a petty part of her wants to turn her nose up at Slates offer and sulk in privacy. But she knows she’d regret it. 

She scowls down at her drink. Tries really hard to be nice. To be forgiving. To move past the upset, just a little. 

“It’d be a start.” 

Some of the tension leaves his shoulders. He taps one of her fingers with one of his own. “Did anything else happen? I mean, did I do anything else?” 

Her eyes flick to him, before dropping back to her drink. She sits in silence while she tries to straighten out her upsets. 

“I wish you’d said something before leaving. Even with your note, I still felt left in the dark.” 

Slowly he creeps one of his hands around hers. Absently, his thumb brushes the back of her hand. “I didn’t realise leaving would bother you. Does it usually?” 

Adalyn shrugs. She hadn’t expected him to take her so seriously. And with his gentle touch it’s getting increasingly difficult for her to pull away. “I’m used to it.” 

She misses his wince. His frown. “Okay. Barring emergencies, I won’t do it again. I’m sorry I didn’t consider how you’d feel about it.” 

Adalyn looks up. 

He’s completely serious. 

She’s surprised by his reaction, and slightly warmed. She’d felt like such a fool, being upset over something so small. He hadn’t made her feel like that at all.  

Feeling bold, Adalyn shuffles closer. Leans across the space and rests her forehead against his chest. 

“Tomorrow you can make it up to me some more.” 

“Yes?” 

“By helping me with the garden.” 

He strokes her hair. She tries not to melt completely at the touch, but it’s nearly impossible. Adalyn realises that she’s starved for these small affections, and presses her face harder against him. 

Her words are muffled, but Slate still hears her when she next speaks. 

“Thank you for listening. And taking me seriously.” 

He clears his throat. “Uh. Well. Of course. You listen to me every day, even when I talk about boring things.” 

“I like listening to you talk about boring things.” 

Her face heats at the admission. She wants to pull away, suddenly aware of her proximity, but doesn’t want Slate to see how embarrassed saying that had made her. 

There’s a long silence. 

“Do you… want to hear me talk about my amour collection?” 

She nods. Then, with great reluctance, pulls back, standing and clearing the table before she’s able to meet his eyes again. 

“Yeah. I’d love to.” 

--- 

Adalyn barely stirs when Slate touches her shoulder. The room is still dark. The fire burnt to embers. 

“Hmm?” 

“I’m going to start bringing up some soil. If I’m not back by breakfast, I’ll see you outside.” 

“M’kay,” she mumbles, drifting back to sleep. 

She forgets the encounter.  

The sun rises and Adalyn drags herself from bed. It’s not until she notes the lack of construction noise, which typically rumbles distantly, but surely, that she connects the dots of Slate’s absence. Excitement rises in her, but she ignores it, dressing and eating, focusing on one step at a time. Finally, she makes her way to the surface. 

In the first week Slate had carved several doors for her, emerging into the lush and stony mountainsides. The one she uses now had been discussed last night: located halfway down Slate’s Tower and exiting onto a small plateau that clings to the spire’s side. 

She adjusts to the sunlight and takes in her surroundings. Her garden supplies are in a precarious pile, and the wooden crate that had housed them is nowhere to be seen. To the side is a large tarp, weighed down by a pile of loamy soil.  

Confused, but happy to start, she begins working, filling and placing pots, drawing lines in the dirt. She’s just beginning to wonder how soon she can start building garden beds when a shadow appears overhead. 

The missing crate creaks when Slate sets it on the ground, and Adalyn can’t help but wonder how many more trips up and down the spires it can survive. Lid missing, she has a clear view of the dirt inside. 

Good morning. 

“Hi,” Adalyn greets him, craning her neck and allowing a shy smile. “You’ve been busy.” 

The wyvern stretches his neck, and adjusts his wings, allowing them to flare momentarily. It could be construed as a shrugging gesture. Adalyn thinks it looks a bit like Slate preening.  

I’m used to early starts. 

She hides her smile at the forced humbleness. Then looks over the plateau. “Do you want to build some garden beds with me?” 

Shadow streams off of him and he shrinks in size until his demi form remains. 

Adalyn blinks, letting her gaze linger over his horns and his scaled cheeks. She doesn’t get to see him like this very often. Especially not out in the light. Aside from when he’s busy digging, or around his family, he tends to present as human around Adalyn. 

She uses the chance to stare, greedily taking in the glint of his claws and the shine of sun on his scales. The way his profile changes with his muscles shifted to hold the extra weight. The almost imperceptible change in his stance.  

She meets his eyes, and realises she’s been caught staring. 

His cheeks darken a shade. “I’m stronger like this. How can I help?” 

She forces herself to stare at the unbuilt garden surrounding them. “I’ll need some materials for the garden beds. What do you recommend?” 

He rubs his chin, smearing dirt without realising. “Wood will break down over time. You could use it for temporary garden beds and build outwards after. Or reinforce and replace the edges. Stone has better longevity. I’d use larger slabs for an elegant, but basic look. You could do cobbled stone for something quaint looking, but it would take much more work to assemble. Plus, it wouldn’t be as durable, and roots could grow through if we left it unpatched.” 

“I like the idea of large slabs. And perhaps some pavers. I don’t want the path turning into mud or washing away every time it rains.” 

“Well, I’ve plenty of limestone. I wouldn’t use it for carvings though. It weathers kind of poorly outside. But it’ll work for slabs and pavers. I could size it for you today?” 

Adalyn straightens. “That sounds like a plan. Why don’t you bring some out while I get us some drinks?” 

The pair part ways. When Adalyn returns to the budding garden, sandwiches and hot drinks in tow, she finds Slate already at work, shaping the stone with his claws, and smoothing it further with a chisel. 

She offers him food, and he smiles gratefully, reaching for a sandwich before pausing. His hands are covered in dust. He looks to his shirt, about to wipe them clean, when he notices the garment is also grey with powdered limestone. 

She bites back a smile at the defeated expression on his face, picks up a sandwich, and holds it to his mouth. 

They lock eyes for a moment, and at the proximity, Adalyn can’t help but flush at the unexpected intimacy.  

“Thanks,” he says in a mumble, before clearing his throat and taking a bite. 

Slate tries to keep busy, turning back to his work between bites, and discussing with Adalyn. They chose the size and shape, decide against using mortar, and finish eating before Slate starts walking the slabs into place.  

Adalyn puts her gloves back on and continues work, filling the first garden bed with stone and soil, while Slate builds and assembles the other beds. By afternoon they’ve built four and filled one, which Adalyn regards with pride.  

“Last thing I’ll need is a source of water.” 

Slate sits on one of the garden edges, sprawling out. “My fancy bathroom won’t be far. I could probably extend the piping.” 

Adalyn tries not to roll her eyes or quip about his growing list of architectural projects. “A rain catcher would also work.” 

He looks sheepish for a moment. “I suppose it would. Until Winter.” 

“Does fancy plumbing not freeze in Winter?” 

“Not if I really shell out. I could have them built from dwarven metals. Or hire an enchanter.” 

She does roll her eyes this time. “And I could do what most of the locals do, and not grow crops in Winter.” 

He blinks. And Adalyn swears he also blushes. “Yes. I suppose you could do that.” 

--- 

That evening Adalyn accompanies Slate downstairs and offers to help with dinner. He brushes her off with a smile and insists on cooking. Content, Adalyn sits in the dining area during the interim, going over the mail she’d picked up that afternoon. 

The pair had made a trip down the mountain to visit Gwen and Grace, and to take cuttings from Adalyn’s old garden. They’d returned one mysterious package heavier.  

Adalyn pointedly ignores the lower half of the dining area. The table from the third trial is gone from the walkway, but the memory still lingers. Adalyn puts her back to it when she sits at the dais table, looking closer at the parcel.  

It’s wrapped tightly in cloth and leather, in a desperate attempt to keep its contents safe, and when Adalyn opens it, she sees why.  

‘St James’ Treatise on Wyvern Physiology’ 

It’s a hefty tome written on parchment, with detailed diagrams and illustrations, inked in colour. A handful of bookmarks protruding from the top draw the eye, and Adalyn opens to one.  

A subheading written in bold jumps out at her: ‘Mating Habits of the Duopedes Draconis’. Adalyn shuts the book and purses her lips. It’s then she spots the letter, nested among the book wrappings. It’s sealed shut with red wax. She eases it open. 

“Dear Adalyn, 

I’ve enclosed a gift you might find useful. I regret that I was unable to unearth it from my home until recently, but I imagine you’ll appreciate it all the same. I’ve marked some passages you may find particularly insightful. 

Unfortunately, the treatise does not go into great detail on wyvern societal customs. By the time my letter reaches you, I imagine you will have run into a few cultural differences in your courting expectations. In case Slate has not thought to tell you, please know that females usually take the lead when it comes to approaching partners. When males assert themselves or make the first move, it’s considered crass, or disrespectful. 

I also realise I didn’t explain the reasoning behind your wedding gift. You’ll understand after you’ve done some reading. A small dab on the wrists and neck is usually enough to be noticeable, though I’d advise against mixing scents unless you have Slate’s assistance. 

I’ve been busy with my travels this year, but I’ll be nesting at home during the Winter. I’ve attached my return address for your convenience. 

Warm regards, 

Rin 

She scans the letter again, rereading the second paragraph as a knot begins to form in her stomach. A surge of emotions washes over her. Shock. Bewilderment. Irritation. Relief. She’s a bit annoyed at the conclusions Rin is jumping to, but since the female isn’t entirely wrong, Adalyn can’t begrudge her the letter or the advice.  

Could Slate have been holding back for these reasons? Sure, it’s still possible he holds no interest in her, but...  

Before she has a chance to ponder it further, the wyvern in question emerges from the kitchen, two plates in tow. Adalyn stows the book and letter away in their wrappings, hurriedly. She ignores Slate’s curious stare, and forces a smile. She’s not ready to talk about the book yet. 

“What’s for dinner?” 

He raises his brow and looks pointedly at the bundle pressed against her chest. He knows precisely what she’s doing, but goes along with it.   

“Rabbit. It’s a bit threadbare, but it’s all freshly foraged.” 

Adalyn looks over the meal. It’s just meat on a stick, but it’s been seasoned with fragrant herbs and served with a side of greens. 

“It’s fine,” she digs in. “Like you’ve said, variety is the spice of life.” 

He huffs and smiles, before sitting opposite her and digging in.   

Adalyn had only lit the closest torches, and the room is mostly in shadow, the pair seated in the dim glow. Still, the clink of cutlery and scrape of the plates are small sounds in a large room, reminding Adalyn of the cavernous shape to the place. Huddling in the low light, it’s somewhat... cozy.   

“I was thinking,” she starts, trying to work up the nerve. Is now really the time?  

Slate listens attentively between bites. 

Fuck it. If Rin is right, she’d never get anywhere, waiting for him to take the initiative. 

“You’ve been working nonstop these past weeks. Perhaps we could take a day off together. Go on an outing?”  

He considers. “That could be nice. Somewhere in the valley?”  

Adalyn forces herself to continue. To be bold. “I was thinking just us. Maybe a picnic or something? You could show me the east side.”  

She’s surprised when he agrees so readily.   

“I’d be delighted. When would you like to go?”  

She considers. “Well, I want to get those cuttings sorted tomorrow.” And take the time to do some reading. “The day after?” 

“I’ll adjust my schedule.”  

She huffs at the poor joke. “I’ll look forward to it.”

Next

#the wyvern's bride #monster romance #vaya writes #exophilia #tetaro #dragons #wyverns #my writing #ths took so long not because i had to write a bunch #no like 80 percent of this i wrote last november #but because i had to revise and reorganise scene order #so so much

[blazeismyname]

By the way... CoCaL fans... I have edibles for you 3-6

“Ok ok ok… Fuck fuck fuck. This wasn’t thought through! This wasn’t thought through!” Jonny mumbled, hopping over the fence of his neighbour’s yard. “Gods… Gods why’d I have to…” He paused to listen to the shrieking cries of his “mother”.  “But I’m so glad they’re both suffering,” He grinned before continuing over the next fence. “Ok... Ok! Just two more fences, and we’re to the docks” The back door swung open to the house. “Hey!” “Shit shit-” Jonny broke into a sprint, fumbling himself over the fence. “SHIT!” His foot misstepped and rolled forward into the next yard, his neck almost snapping with his unimpressive landing. “OW!” he coughed before picking himself up and continuing. No time, no time! Not while his “mother” knew he was the murderer. “Fucking skirt ain’t helping. Cutting this shit and then stealing some pants on the ship.” He picked himself up and weaved past the person in the yard who wasn’t pleased.  “Hey- What do you think you're doing?”  Jonny pushed ahead, hopping the last fence. His shoes fell off as he did. “Pull it together Ja- Jonny. Jonny, I like that name… Anyways! Just a little farther.” He got up, his feet already starting to burn. He sprinted and dived into the shallow part of the harbour. He ducked below the waves and ensured no one was coming before grabbing a rope to an empty ship. He climbed slowly before getting onto the deck and dodging to the lower decks. First order of action… pants. He ruffled around in some crates to no avail. “Welp… fuck…” He heard the distinct sound of footsteps on the ship and dived behind a curtain of boxes where he had chosen to spend the week. 

He quietly stole small portions of food for a week. Small, unnoticeable amounts. “Ok, let’s see,” Jonny muttered, politely pushing aside a crate. “There's the little rat bastard!” a crew member shouted, running at Jonny.  Jonny shrieked with his still-estrogen-stained voice and stumbled to the wooden floor.  “A little girl?” another followed, peaking over the first's shoulder.  Jonny bit his lip. “I am not a little girl!” The first crew member grabbed Jonny by his top and pulled him up. “Then what are you?” “A man!” Jonny shouted with a snarl. He reached his hands to his neck to try and pull away from the grip as he was losing breath. “A man who just so happens to have been built like a woman!” “Lower the kid, Henry. Let him explain,” the other calmed.  The first one dropped Jonny and glared. “Explain then. Ol’ Thomas here is getting you off.” Jonny put his hands on his knees and gasped for air. “One second… Mother fucker.. You could’ve killed me.” The crew member who had been referred to as Thomas patted Jonny. “Take your time kid.” Henry huffed angrily and left.  “My- My name is Jonny.” Jonny straightened his posture. “I killed my father and attempted to hide here thinking it was a merchant ship heading to Europe.” “Whelp. You’re one tough kid apparently. Who was your dad?” Thomas leaned against the wall of the ship.  “Mr. Vangelis, sir,” Jonny answered.  Thomas sat up. “Van- Billy Vangelis? You’re Billy Vangelis’s boy?” Thomas followed up, shocked.  Jonny nodded solemnly before shaking his hands and standing triumphantly. Hands on his hips, he proclaimed, “And his killer!” Thomas laughed a little. “Aren’t you so proud? You oughtta. The crook was running a monopoly. Never knew how…” Jonny bit his lip and lifted his hands a little. He could still see the blood as he loaded the gun silently.  “Are you ok kiddo..?” Thomas questioned, placing a firm hand on Jonny’s shoulder. “I want out of this skirt.” It wasn’t Jonny’s actual thoughts, but it was something Jonny wanted! “Hmm.. I think we can get you some pants.” Thomas looked Jonny up and down, measuring his size with his eyes. “It must be awful in something like that for you.” “I was going to steal someone’s pants sooner or later, but all I could do for now was cut the skirt,” Jonny remarked.  “You know what we can do when we get up to the deck? We can get Charles to cut that length of hair to something more affirming. How’s that sound, Jonny?” Thomas offered. Jonny just grinned. He was gonna like this place.

(I searched 1700s names approximately 5 times for this and I do not regret it)

#the consequences of creation and love

[bridgyrose]

Ruby x Weiss x Neo

(Took the time to start a different kind of au)

Neo slowly made her way into the abandoned warehouse, her breath heavy as she held her bladed parasol at the ready, scroll in hand to shine a light through the darkness. Each step carefully placed as she tried to be quiet, wishing Cinder or even Emerald had been able to join her. Though, if she was right-

“Coming alone this time? Bold.” 

The hair on the back of Neo’s neck stood up as she heard the familiar voice of her prey, catching a glimpse of the red cloak and petals as someone ran behind a few crates. She moved the light of her scroll to the crates, fingers shaking as she tried to keep steady. She tapped her parasol against a crate three times. 

Another three taps came from the other end of the warehouse as Ruby made her way out of hiding. “A huntress like you shouldnt come alone.” 

“And a criminal like you should be?” she signed. 

Ruby grinned and folded up her scythe. “Weiss will be here shortly. Something about needing to lead a couple huntresses onto a different trail.” 

Neo frowned a bit, keeping her parasol pointed at Ruby. “You know I have to arrest you.” 

“That would be the nature of things, wouldnt it?” Ruby sighed and sat down, looking at the window on the far end of the warehouse. “But that does make me ask, why stay with Weiss and I if you know you’ll have to put us away? Do you really think you can change us? Make us better?” She paused for a moment and looked down at Neo. “Or is it because you know that we’ll keep feeding you pieces of information that you can use to make your team look good?” 

“Because I know you want better!” Neo signed as she lowered her parasol. “Why else do you keep meeting with me?” 

Ruby dropped down from the crate she was sitting on and made her way to Neo. “Because I want you to be safe. Things are a lot more complicated than you think and I dont want to risk losing you. There’s still time for you to join us-” 

Neo raised the blade of her parasol to Ruby’s neck, her arms shaking as she stared at the woman she loved. She didnt want to hurt Ruby, didnt want to keep fighting like this, drifting apart while the love they had stayed strong. And yet, she still couldnt convince Ruby to be by her side, to leave Roman like they both should’ve when they were younger. Slowly, she lowered her blade and looked away. “Can you please explain what you’re doing?” 

“If… after my next mission. Just promise me you wont interfere.” 

“You know I cant make that promise.” 

“I know but I-” 

“We need to leave!” Weiss said as she came in through the warehouse window, blocking a few arrows with a glyph before using ice dust to seal it. “The rest of Neo’s team figured out what I was doing and started to make their way back. We have maybe three minutes before they come storming in and looking through the crates.” 

Ruby nodded and gently took Neo’s hand. “Its not too late.” 

Neo pulled away, taking a few steps back as she looked at Weiss and Ruby. Ruby, her childhood friend, and Weiss, the exiled heiress who was thrown away to the White Fang. Both girls she grew to know and love, only to part ways after a job went wrong and Neo was offered a chance to do better. ”You could come with me too, you know.” Neo signed. “Ozpin is still looking for more huntsmen. You could help people and we can clear your name. Start a new life.” 

Weiss gently pulled Ruby back. “We dont have a choice, we have to go!” 

“I’ll catch up,” Ruby said as she pulled away from Weiss. 

Neo watched as Weiss used her dust to create a fog and rush out of the warehouse with her glyphs. Her eyes then went to Ruby’s silver eyes, almost pleading for her to come back. 

“I love you, Neo. And when I’m finished, we’ll be able to be together again. I promise.” 

Neo slowly nodded as she watched Ruby turn around and race off with her semblance. The sound of the wooden door of the warehouse cracking open sounded behind her as she heard the footsteps of her teammates finally join her. 

“Damn it, they got away,” Cinder said as she lowered her bow. “At least we stopped them from getting whatever it was they were after.” 

Emerald nodded. “We should get something to eat before getting back to Ozpin. That noodle stand with the spicy noodles you like isnt too far away.” 

Neo slowly put her parasol away and turned to look at her teammates. “I’ll join you two later. I need to talk to Ozpin first.” 

“What for?” Cinder asked. “Our job’s done and we’ve sent in the report. We’re free until he needs us again.” 

“It was Ruby again. There’s something she knows that we dont. Something Ozpin is hiding.” 

“We can go talk to him after we eat,” Emerald said as she put a hand on Neo’s shoulder. “You’ve spent days trying to find them when you should be taking care of yourself. Whatever answers Ozpin has, we can find out tomorrow.” 

Neo stopped herself from signing anymore more to argue, knowing Emerald was right. She needed to rest and if Ruby was asking her to stay out of it, then she’d be able to find her again. A smile crossed her lips as she nodded. “Tomorrow.”

#rwby #ruby rose #rwby ruby rose #weiss schnee #neopolitan #cinder fall #emerald sustrai #drabbles #reverse au #neo x ruby x weiss #rwby strawberry swirl

[tragedyinblue]

BBU Community Days, #8

@bbu-on-the-side

{Day 8} Barcode

It’s 4am and I couldn’t sleep until I got this done, lol.

————————————————————————

Untouched

CW: ‘It’ pronoun, mention of needle-related fears, dehumanization, institutionalized slavery

“Stay close to me, dear. I don’t want to lose you in the aisles,” Miss Abbie said over her shoulder as the grocery store’s automatic doors parted for them.

Chase could have pointed out that they’d be less likely to be separated if she would hold its leash, but the pet wouldn’t dare to be so bold… not after the scathing look on her face after explaining that the leash was necessary whenever they were outdoors.

“Yes, Miss Abbie,” it said instead, tucking itself into her shadow. The untethered loop slapped its knees as it walked, every beat a reminder that despite the many undeserved gifts she had so graciously given it in the days since the pet’s arrival—warm clothes, a bed (human-sized!), and delicious meals every day—it, too, wasn’t wanted by its mistress.

“Absolutely not!” she’d screamed. “Come here and take him away from me right now!”

But no one came to haul the pet away that day. Chase could only assume that was because from the moment Miss Abbie opened the lid, it did everything it could to prove its worth, secretly hoping she might let it stay. Even so, its wooden crate remained shoved against the wall in the living room, a subtle reminder of what would happen if it failed to please her.

Chase weaved through the aisles behind Miss Abbie, doing its best to note exactly which products she chose and where each item was located. It would need to remember such things for her eventually.

Their plastic shopping basket was overflowing with items by the time they reached the checkout lane. A dark-skinned teenager waved them in and Miss Abbie gasped, a playful smile on her face.

“Goodness, Darren! If you get any taller I’m going to break my neck trying to see your face,” she teased.

He laughed. “Afternoon, Mrs. Cooper. Find everything okay?”

“We did, thank you, dear. How is your mom handling the new job?”

Chase placed the items on the conveyor as inconspicuously as possible, avoiding the teen’s curious stare as the humans chatted.

It had nearly emptied the basket when a high-pitched giggle and a series of aggressive clicks snagged the pet’s attention.

“Mommy, look! I’m scanning Kiki!”

Glancing over in the self-checkout area, Chase spied a young boy, his mother, and a female Pet whose leash was clipped to their cart. The boy laughed as he triggered the handheld scanner over the barcode tattooed on their pet’s inner arm.

Chase remembered the fresh, burning itch of those same marks against its own skin; some pets screamed and cried when they got theirs, but it had never had a problem with needles, not like… like…

Something hovered at the back of Pet’s mind, as indistinct as a shadow behind fogged glass. Before it could figure out what, the scene before it resumed and the shape vanished.

“Good job, honey, but we already paid for Kiki and I don’t want to do it again,” the mother joked, ruffling her son’s hair. “Now put that back, it’s not a toy.”

The boy complied and the trio wheeled past, Kiki lagging behind at the end of the leash.

“How deplorable,” Miss Abbie spat under her breath.

Chase’s jerked, panic seizing its chest as it realized that it had failed to empty the basket. Surely Miss Abbie would think it lazy; useless. The pet’s gaze whipped back to Miss Abbie, whose eyes rested on the barcode peeking out from its own sleeve. Her lips pursed into a thin, stern line. Chase had no idea what that expression meant, but when she turned to pay, the pet tugged the fabric down until its mark was fully obscured.

As they walked back to its mistress’ house, the leash still swung, untouched.

Previous Next

Taglist: @maracujatangerine @octopus-reactivated @dislexiher

#bbu #bbu community #bbucd #day8 #day 8 a day late lol #inheritance-story

[lumiolivier]

A Different Kind of Gun Show

Day 22 of 31 of Kinktober

Prompt: Exhibitionism

Word Count: 552

Mello needs to blow off a little steam. Matt needs to blow Mello.

“Alright, we got ten minutes,” Mello already had his jacket off, “You got everything ready?”

“Yep,” Matt nodded, not even thinking twice about it, “This feels kind of naughty, Mels.”

“That’s the point, dumbass,” Mello threw his jacket on the couch in his office, “And you’re sure all the crates are set up?”

“Of course, they are,” Matt promised, “Mello, sweetheart, you think I’m just going to fuck you raw on cement?  Of course not.  Come on.  Give me some credit.  I’m a little more of a gentleman than that.”

“Because,” Mello jumped up and latched his ankles in Matt’s lower back, “Nothing says love like you fucking me in the warehouse?”

“That feels like code for something,” Matt started kissing up Mello’s neck, “Look, baby.  I gave the guys some busywork.  The earliest any of them can be back here is the next ten minutes.  If you’re wanting to do this, we need to do this now.”

“I love you, Matt.” Mello could already feel himself getting rock solid in his tight leather pants.  And he so desperately wanted Matt to undo them at his earliest convenience.

“I love you, too,” Matt brought Mello out to the open warehouse and laid him on top of a big cluster of wooden crates, each one filled with hay and heavy artillery.  He undid the buttons on Mello’s pants and noticed his arousal, “Well, well.  Look at you, so ready for me.”

“We don’t have time for you to raw dog me, Matt,” Mello growled, his body twitching, “Let me fuck your face.”

“You make me sound like a cheap and dirty whore,” Matt awed, “Do it some more.”

“Shut the fuck up and blow me!”

“Yes, sir,” Matt wrapped his mouth around Mello’s dick, just the way he asked.  Inch by inch, Matt took more and more.  And Mello’s hips started bucking into his face.  Only to have Matt pull him out, “So eager, Mello.  You have to make a choice.  You’re either going to let me suck your dick or you’re going to fuck my face.  You can’t have both.”

“Just suck me off, Matt!” Mello begged, “Please!”

“Then,” Matt put his fingers up to Mello’s lips, “Stay.  Still.”

Mello didn’t like it, but he knew what he had to do.  He held himself together, loving nothing more than the combined warmth of Matt’s mouth and the rush of knowing anyone could walk in on them at any second.  It got to him like nothing ever could.  Harder and harder, Matt kept sucking on Mello like a straw.  And he could hardly contain himself anymore.  Mello let out a little moan, letting the echo reverberate in his ears.  And Matt’s hands started to knead into Mello’s thighs.  His special way of praise.  And he loved it even more.

But then…The footsteps joined in with Mello’s moans, “Shit.  Matt…”

“Mmm?” Matt kept going.

“I…” Mello let out a hard moan, grabbing the back of Matt’s shirt for stability as he filled Matt’s mouth. 

And Matt took one good, hard swallow, “Good boy, Mello.  You feel better?”

“Yeah,” Mello could hardly stand, but he had to get his pants up before someone came in.

“Uh…Boss?” one of the guys walked in, “Did I interrupt some-”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GET BACK TO WORK!”

#dnkinktober #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #death note #death note fan fiction #mellodramattic

[keiskake]

So based on Pokemon, can you write a oneshot featuring Kukui with an older male reader along with hypnosis and public nudity please? In the fic, the reader hypnotizes Kukui into wanting to automatically strip naked and jerk off whenever he hears or sees a trigger. So the next day, while doing errands, Kukui has to try to control himself as he comes across the triggers. What do you think?

sub kukui x dom m!reader

(m!masturbation, video recording, public nudity, hypnosis // nsfw MDNI)

he had riled you up the night before, leaving you mid-session to go help his students at the pokemon school. he left you to finish what he started. every action has consequences, and you wanted him to feel needy. to feel itching for more.

the downstairs of the house had an assortment of potions, but there was one that you kept especially hidden in a locked drawer. you had fantasies of this day but were unsure if kukui would be on board with the idea. this time he didn't get a say in the matter.

it was a hypnosis potion, one that nurse joy had given you as a tester for a pokemon who wouldn't eat. it never got put to use for its intended purposes but who said it was strictly for pokemon anyways? a few drops in his morning coffee would do perfectly.

"kukui! your coffee is ready, come and get it." you shout down the stairs to alert your lover, stirring the mixture of caffeine and hypnosis potion.

footsteps slowly make their way to you, his hands tucked into his white coat. kukui doesn't face you but tries to avert his eyes and hide them under his hat, "thanks babe.."

"hmm? what's the matter?" you put the cup in front of him and tilted to the side in an attempt to look at him properly.

"y'know━ last night and everything." he takes his hand out to reach for the cup, looking up at you with a slightly embarrassed face. you were gonna make him into a complete embarrassed mess by the end of the day, that was for sure.

you grinned slightly, lifting up his hat before placing a tender kiss on his forehead. he finally looks at you with warm and loving eyes as he makes his way to the couch, taking a seat beside you. kukui takes a sip of his drink, his other hand reaching for the morning paper laid on the coffee table. but by the time the tips of his fingers could reach the paper he quickly put his cup down and withdrew his hand.

a nervous sweat dripped across his forehead, the sound of his pounding heart echoed in his mind and his eyes gazed at you for aid. "what's going on..? why does my body feel fuzzy?"

"it's okay sweetheart, it's all okay. i just want you to feel the aching urge to strip and pleasure yourself, but of course not actually do it."

and after that moment he was under your very spell. kukui leaned his head over your shoulder, panting like a dog in heat. his voice was sweet and gentle, whining and moaning in your ear desperately. he gripped the sides of your arms as his lower area grinded against your already hard cock. that's right, want what you can't have.

a hand pats his back a couple of times, soothing his sudden arousal. "come on, let's go run some errands. be a good boy and don't touch yourself no matter how painful it is."

kukui holds onto your arm tightly as you pull yourself up. he struggles to make it to the front door as the hypnosis potion goes into full effect. the walk to the local market is just as unstable, kukui's mind foggy and his body itching to take every piece of clothing off and pleasure himself. but he knows that your words are absolute.

the two of you stop at a stall, it had fruits and vegetables of all sorts stacked in wooden crates. you chit-chat with the seller, kukui standing in front of you facing downwards at his feet. his fingers fiddle around as he tries to distract himself from his arousal, but you slip your arm around his waist. your hand is a few inches above his cock. the thoughts of your big, rugged hand messing around with his length turns him into a big blushing mess.

the shopkeeper speaks up, taking notice of how fidgety your partner is, "are you okay kukui?"

"go on, answer her." you coo quietly in his ear. it sent a shiver down his spine. the way your lips were so close to his ear reminded him of the night before. the way you would whisper sweet nothings in his ear as your hand trailed down his stomach and to his pants.

"i'm- i'm fine ma'am, just a bit warm." he's only able to crack a small smile at her before he quickly tries to cover his pink face.

"i must say, your watermelons are doing well this summer. they're really hard and solid." your tone is playful and sly, you chose that exact wording to get him all antsy. kukui jolted backwards, his feet falling in between yours and his ass right up against your cock. "maybe we'll come by later to get one, have a nice day ma'am."

"h-have a nice- a nice day.." his words are mumbled through his trembling lips as he follows you into an ally. it's too much for him. he can't hold off any longer, his hands unsteadily fumbling to slip off his coat.

but there was no time. you pushed his back against a brick wall, the two of you boxed in a narrow alleyway. it was dark and small, normally people wouldn't take much notice to it, and they probably wouldn't even realise if people were hiding there. though if someone was making a lot of noise, maybe they would finally take a look.

"pushing yourself against my cock and trying to strip? someone's not exactly being a good boy, are they? strip kukui." his body was weak, the only thing keeping him upright was the wall behind him. kukui's eyed widened as those words made its way into his brain. 'strip'. it was like a drug that he couldn't resist or ignore, pulling his coat off and his pants down with zero hesitation. his cock sprung out of his boxers, the tip red and plump with precum dripping on the floor. the veins were even visible despite how dark it was.

"now play with yourself, stroke yourself until you cum for me okay?" you give him a small peck on his lips before pulling out your phone to record the mess that kukui was.

"but someone could catch us-"

"i didn't stutter kukui. put on a little show for me and the camera, won't you?"

a bright blush grew on his face as small whimpers slip out of his lips. kukui, reluctantly, shook his head despite the sheer embarrassment he was feeling. he took his left hand and started working on his red, plump tip, rubbing the leaking head. a free hand covered his mouth, trying to hide how much he was enjoying the fear yet the thrill that someone could walk by and see his pathetic, needy self. he wanted to deny that he loved the way you pointed the camera at his bulge, recording him for your own personal use later.

you took a stride towards him, pushing his hand away from his mouth, "aw, why are you covering your mouth sweetheart? let daddy hear those pathetic moans of yours." kukui struggled to nod at your request, his hand working up and down his length with his pre-cum as his lube. the wet squealching sound rippled against the walls, and soon after his moans became a serenading melody to your ears. "too, too much.." he mewls, his pace slowing down as his legs becoming too weak to keep him upright.

"oh baby, it's too much? you can cum for me and the camera, right? c'mon, show me the load that's been building up." Your command rings in his head, the hypnosis potion taking its final stretch and pushing kukui over the edge. His hand runs itself from the base and rubs it around his sloppy tip. His lips can no longer hold his whimpers and cries back. "look at that aching cock, begging to cum. Just keep going, that's a good boy." he does as he's told, his body out of his control. a slip of the tongue, his groan a tad bit louder than before. the sound of footsteps at the entrance of the alleyway makes kukui jump. his dripping cock out in the open for anyone to see, a free for all. "don't be shy now, you're almost there handsome."

intoxicating.

it wasn't because of the potion anymore. he wanted nothing more than to please you, to make your every command a reality. kukui forgot about the footsteps and the person at the alleyway entrance, pumping his cock in his fist full-power. the smirk on your face grew as your show finally came to a white end, the tip shooting out his thick and hot load on the concrete ground. he was left panting, a dirty mess, back slumped against the wall and thighs trembling. you pressed your tongue against his tip, swiping against it to get a mouthful of his hot, thick cum.

"didn't know my good boy tasted so good. and don't worry, i won't be sharing this video with anyone but you."

#professor kukui #pokemon kukui #pokemon x reader #professor kukui x reader #pokemon smut

[la5pampy]

Hello!, This is my first time writing so please be patient with me.

Also english isn't my first language and I apologize if there are some mistakes, but that said have a pleasant reading.

Cw: implied abuse, trapping(cage)

Hero was just folding their laundry when they heard a knock on the door, they weren’t expecting visitors so who could it be? They went down the stairs and across the living room and opened the door.

When they did they were face to face with Superhero, and they immediatly straightened their back in hopes to make a good impression.

Unfortunatly the Superhero didn’t seem to care and went right to the point.

“Hero, I am assigning you a task. Take this as a test.” Before the Hero could object two people with the Association simbol on the front of their uniform dragged a large wooden box in front of their doorstep.

“I am going away on a mission for some time, you’re going to take care of this until my return” And without saying another word the Superhero turned and walked away taking the two people with her.

And that’s how Hero got stuck with a large wooden crate in front of their door (they weren’t even sure how they would get it in their house but that was gonna be a problem for later.)

As Hero realised that Superhero wasn’t going to be coming back, saying that this was all a prank, they looked warily at the crate.

It was very big, not gigantic but it looked like it could have contained a piece of furniture, already assembled and all.

It was as tall as their hip and just large enough to not fit trough the door, the Hero sighed, whatever it was they wouldn’t open it it front of their doorstep for every one to see, if the Superhero was assigning this to them it meant that it was important, so they would have to bring it in their house, whether they liked it or not.

So they took two long breaths before putting their hands under the crate and lifting it up.

It wasn’t as bad as the Hero had though, I mean, it was still heavy but not as heavy as they would have expected a piece of furniture would weight (if what was in there was a piece of furniture) But he wasn’t complaining, and abeight with a little difficulty, they got the crate in their house.

While they were getting through the doorway the felt something shift inside the crate, like something bing against one of the wood walls and they prayed that they hadn’t broken anything alreeady.

They carefully put the crate in the middle of the living room and then went to close the door, and while they were making their way back to it, they thought of what they would do to open it.

While they were holding it they noticed that the wood was pretty strong, weirdly strong, like the crate itself wasn’t meant to be open easily, that must be because Superhero didn’t want anyone touching their things, though Hero, of course, how silly of me.

They went upstairs to find something to get the thing opened, they rummaged trought their stuff and found a crowbar, perfect for the job.

Then they went back downstairs, and with a bit of raw strenght they managed to open the crate, which came apart with a strong noise of wood hitting the floor.

In the now-opened crate there was an object with the shape of another crate, but the Hero couldn’t see what it was, because there was a white cloth draped over it.

And again, without asking themselves any questions, the Hero took the white cloth and removed it, letting it fall to the floor when they saw what had been under it.

In front of them there was a large metal cage, with holes instead of bars. The inside didn’t seem like it had any kind of peculiarity, exept for the human being inside.

The person in the cage wasn’t moving, it didn’t even look like they were breating at all, Hero wasn’t sure if they were even alive at this point, apart for the fact that they were looking at them with wide eyes, and for the occasional blinking, even though that too was very rare.

Hero stared with wide eyes at the contents of the crate, this time a million questions buzzing in their head, “what the hell?”

They had not meant to say that out loud, but the words just came out on their own before they could stop themselves, but at least it seemed to have caused a reaction out of the person in the cage, who flinched and curled in on themselves in a sitting position, raising their legs under their chin.

“Whoa sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you..” Hero apologized, crouching down to eye level with their “guest”.

Now that they could see them better, they noticed some concerning things. For example how their eyes sunk in their skull, making it seem like they lacked both sleep and food, and how the skin that was not covered by the filthy rag they wore was littered with bruises and scars, some even fresh.

The person seemed frozen in place, out of fear, they figured. In any case they didn’t actually know what they should do, it’s not like they had ever cared for another pearson before.

But it seemed like they had no other choice, so they tried to at least coax some information out on the person.

“Hey there.” The Hero fully sat down on the floor “Mind telling me what your name is?”

The person didn’t respond, nor did they move from their position, their wide eye kept staring at them, and the Hero sighed.

They had a feeling that this was going to be more difficult that they would have thought.

“…can you talk buddy?”

*silence*

“…” they stared at each other for a while, until Hero had an idea.

“Um… are you… hungry? I can get you something to eat, you must be starving.”

At that, the person perked up, looking at them with wider eyes, wich Hero thought was impossible but they were hardly surprised after everything that was happening.

Regardless Hero smiled, they finally got some kind of reaction, it was already progress, right?

Hero got up and went to the kitchen, wich wasn’t far since it was in the same room, turned on the stove, and began cooking.

#hero #hero caretaker #pet whump #? #whump #implied I guess? #this is my first time writing #I didn't proof-read this too much #I hope It's good

[hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend]

Rare Pair Week 2023: Meet Cute

Well last week was all for Sib and Thanny and this week gets to be about Demos and Yugiri! So please have their first interaction from way back in A Realm Reborn.  no warnings. word count: 1.4k

Demos grunts as he puts the wooden crate onto the cart, pushing it to the side when Thancred comes up next to him. “Well other than the few sacks over there,” Thancred says with a small groan, “we’ve got everything loaded.” He claps his hands free of dust once pushing the crate into place, leaning against the cart with folded arms as Demos starts to make sure everything is secure. The rogue’s eyes don’t leave their mysterious guest as she talks to some of the refugees, a small smirk forming on his lips. “Do you ever wonder just what she looks like underneath that hood of hers?”

Demos glances over, shrugging, “Doesn’t seem that important.”

Thancred rolls his eyes, “Can you not humor me, Demos? She must be hiding something if she’s choosing to wear that dark of clothing and a full mask in the heat of Thanalan.”

“Well if she is then it’s none of our business to pry. You told me she just came all the way over from the East where the Empire is in full control,” Thancred nods, “Then there’s no need to try and push her to take off her mask. Wasn’t long ago the Empire had some strongholds here.”

“So you’re implying she’s a wanted woman? Which means she must be a thing of beauty underneath.”

“Really, Thancred?”

“What?” Demos lets out a heavy sigh, shaking his head, “No, tell me. What is it you’re trying to say to me?”

“Didn’t you just break things off with Siberite?”

His jaw tightens, arms folding tighter, “It didn’t just happen. That ended a long time ago.”

He huffs out a laugh, “Two and a half weeks ago isn’t a long time ago.”

“Might as well be,” he grumbles with a wave of his hand, “How do you know that any way? Didn’t think that was something you'd keep count of.”

“I don’t. Siberite does. You all still send me with her on missions just like yesterday.”

“Surprised she still talks about me,” Thancred chuckles, “Guess I just have that effect.”

Demos snorts, “Not really. I had to listen to that woman talk for three hours straight on her latest conquests.”

“Latest conquests,” he balks, scoffing with a shake of his head, “Did she happen to tell you any names?”

“I said she talked for three hours straight, didn’t say I listened for three hours.”

“Well how is that helpful to me?”

“It’s not, but you know what would be? Going and talking to her about it like you should have done.”

“She said she wanted nothing to do with me.”

Demos looks upward, with a sigh, Oh Menphina help me with these two, “Look if you’re feeling the need to get involved with someone else connected to the Scions I’d highly advise you against that. And especially not with someone that’s just had to leave her whole life behind to start anew in what pretty much feels like a new world.”

Thancred huffs, putting his hands up, “Okay, fine. I’ll leave it be for now, but not because you told me.” He looks over the cart as Demos tosses on the last sack, “Now if you don’t mind, I believe my work here is done, so I’m going to have some fun, twould seem I prefer the company of the local tavern anyway.” 

Demos shakes his head, watching as Thancred stalks off to the tavern across the way, giving one final tug on the leather straps. He turns to his patiently waiting caribou, Oisín, giving a solid pat on his neck, “Hopefully those two are the kind of people that need to be dramatic about things first. Just hope they get over it soon.” The animal gives a shake of his head, Demos giving a nice scratch between his antlers, “Yeah, probably not.” He sighs, petting the animal once more, “In the meantime Oisín we gotta get this stuff up north.” He just begins to secure Oisín to the cart when he can feel someone approaching him. 

“You are making your way to Mor Dhona, is that correct?” 

“Yep,” he turns, looking down to see the hooded woman looking up at him, “Thought you’d be on the carts with the others? Can’t have run out of room for you.”

“They haven’t no, but I am told you will be bringing up the rear of this caravan.” He nods, “Then I shall like to join you. I am told one of your best fighters is leading the way and I should like to ensure my people’s safety.”

“Mean you’re more than welcome so long as you don’t mind being in tight quarters,” he smiles gesturing to the small bench and then to the cart itself, “or ridin’ on top of crates.”

“I don’t mind at all.”

“Then after you ma’am,” he says, bending down to create a foothold for her to climb onto the bench. She doesn’t say anything, taking his assistance to settle herself, “Oh, if you want there’s a small pillow just behind you.” She gives a small tilt of her head, “People I’ve taken in this cart tend to not be as acclimated to long trips sitting on wood. And the champion says it’s uncomfortable when you have a tail.” He shrugs, giving one more check to Oisín’s straps, smiling when he’s satisfied, “Alright boy let’s get goin’.” Demos watches as the others begin to move into the tunnel leaving Vesper Bay, giving his signal to go as the two sit silently. 

They’ve just made it to the halfway point when she says, “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“The scars on your face, how-?”

“You heard I was a healer I take it,” he finishes giving a half attempted smile.

“Forgive me. I did not know you were. I don’t mean to pry.”

He chuckles, “Ah, don’t be. Sure you got a good reason to ask, you don’t seem like the kind of person to broach a subject like that on a whim. Besides, it's nothin’ too bad. At one point we went up against this primal, she shot out feathers. Got nicked by them is all.”

“So why the scar?”

“Things got busy, moved quickly, didn’t think ‘bout it until much later and body was already doing it’s thing. So it was gonna leave some kind of mark anyway. Just had an old friend stitch it up where it needed to be.”

“Have you seen a lot of combat like that? Or are you used to a busier battlefield?”

“You trying to fill the silence?” She looks away, leaving Demos with a frown, “You’re fine to do so. Just you know, asking a lot of questions and I don’t believe we even know each other’s names.”

Her head snaps up to look at him, “No one thought to tell you my name? But you are a part of the Scions.”

“I am, but I don’t hang around much. Probably why they never told you mine.”

“I-. Hm, now that I think about it, I don’t believe I was ever formally told.”

“Then we should get on that,” Demos clears his throat, holding out a hand, “I’m Demos.”

“Yugiri,” she says with a light laugh taking his hand, “a pleasure to meet you.”

The caribou belts out a cry, making the two jump. “Oh, right. Sorry. And this guy here, Yugiri, is Oisín. You’re gonna have to pet him and give an apple when we get down to make up for the fact we can’t currently.”

She laughs, holding a hand to hide most of it, “Well it is also nice to meet you Oisín.” She turns to look at Demos, the sun hitting her covered face just right to allow for him to see through the fabric long enough to know she has a smile, one he returns in kind. “Demos, would it be alright with you, if I asked you a few more questions?”

“Can’t guarantee I’ll have a good answer but sure, just promise you’ll answer a few of mine along the way.” She nods before jumping into a line of questions that keep conversation going until they reach their destination. 

She jumps down with hardly a sound, giving a small bow, “Thank you for letting me accompany you, Demos. I hope we will have some more time in the future to talk again.”

“Same to you, Yugiri,” he says with a wave watching as she gets lost amongst the other Domans taking in the new sights, mumbling, “Same to you.”

#x: of the land and sea #just gonna be a day behind and eliminate a day completely #but I love them and their little slow burn #rare pair week 2023 #xivrarepairweek #my screenshots #my edits #yugiri x oc #yugiri mistwalker #probably gonna change the banner later on but for now we are happy with it! and the writing is more important anyway! #my writing

[fatefulfaerie]

Botanical

Linktober 2022 prompt #29/31

Word Count: 1,033

Incarnation: Age Of Calamity (post)

Trigger Warnings: None Applicable

“You summoned me?” Link asked, closing the door behind him.

Zelda’s study was clean, and nothing could have been more out of the ordinary. Link gaped at how much space was actually in here when all the books were on the shelf, all the otherwise lonely papers were filed away, and every guardian contraption was put away in a wooden crate.

“Please, sit down,” Zelda said formally as she gestured toward a chair she had set up, apparently for Link. It faced a chalkboard with a basic outline of a Hylian, accompanied by various arrows and writings he didn’t know the purpose of.

“Your Highness,” Link said as he sat down. “What is this?”

“I have a malady I wish to inform you of,” Zelda explained. “And this is the only way I know how to do it.”

Link narrowed his eyes and braced his hands against his thighs.

“Uhm,” Link breathed, hesitating. “It’s not…” He scrunched his face as if it were a bad word. “It’s not…private…is it? If it is, I don't need to know, really.” He held his hands up. “I’m just your knight attendant I don’t need to know about...” Link’s cheeks began to streak and his eyes widened for a second. “I really don’t need to know about that sort of stuff.”

Zelda had crossed her arms where she stood by the chalkboard.

“It’s something I want you to know,” Zelda said. “It has the potential to alter your job significantly.”

Link gestured wordlessly for her to begin, although he was silently nervous where he sat in the chair, elbows on his knees.

“All right,” Zelda began. “At about ten score, the Hylian body undergoes great alterations, a process that gradually hurtles us into the middle portions of our lifespan in ways that may seem awkward and unwanted.”

Link took a moment to parse through what she said, making sure that what he thought he heard was what she meant to say.

“Are you giving me a lecture on puberty?” Link asked, “We’re both nearing twenty, I think that ship has sailed for both of us.”

“I know,” Zelda said. “This is just the beginning of what I have to say, trust me.”

Link took a deep breath.

“Go on,” he said, half ready to walk out the door singing with his fingers in his ears as soon as Zelda started to talk about the female side of things. He heard it involved blood and Hylia was that something he did not want to know about. Goddesses, why was she talking about this?

“At a certain juncture it is instinct for this phenomenon to lead to species preservation through permanent replication, in more simple terms procreation through copulation, which is a bit extreme in this particular circumstance of course, but that is merely the scientific and even at times socially-obligatory source of the notion.”

“Internally, there are also factors,” Zelda continued, thinking Link was listening intently when really he was beyond understanding and just trying to figure out how she said that one sentence in one breath. “Namely rising dopamine levels from what we call the pituitary gland here.” She pointed a nicely-sanded stick at the middle of the head. “And the hypothalamus here. The actual process is abetted by the hippocampus, the medial insula, and the anterior cingulate, which are the centers for love, affection, and rewards. As far as intensity at the forefront of the phenomenon–”

“Hold on,” Link said, his hands out. Zelda turned her head back around. “You lost me at juncture.”

Zelda stammered, looking at the diagram and back to Link as if she didn’t know what to do.

“Okay,” he said. “This is about something you have, right?”

Zelda nodded.

“Well yes of course,” she assured him.

“Okay so,” he went on, circling with his hand as if to prompt her. “Try to put aside the science behind it. It doesn’t have to be so…botanical.”

“Botanical refers to plants,” Zelda said, the words coming out quickly as if they were just another breath. “And I’ve been working on this all week. This is the only way I know how to explain it.”

“Use simpler words,” Link said. “Stuff with less than ten letters if you can.”

Zelda twisted her lips as she thought for a moment.

“Magnets!” She exclaimed excitedly, her hands outstretched towards Link. “The magnetic field!”

Link dove his head into his hands.

“No?” Zelda asked.

“No,” Link replied, his voice muffled. He inhaled as he rose out of his hands so that they framed his face, in such a way that it looked like he was nursing a headache.

“Okay,” Link asked. “What is it you have? Just give me one or two words.”

Zelda didn’t say anything at first, pursing her lips.

“I need three,” she admitted.

Link gestured for her to continue.

“Feelings of attraction,” she said overly plainly, as if she had already said it twice before. Link furrowed his brow, almost taken aback.

“Wait,” Link said, looking up at Zelda. His mouth formed to make another ‘W’ sound and yet he froze. He pointed at himself and asked the question with his eyes, brow raised and heart leaping in anticipation.

“Of course it’s you, silly,” Zelda said playfully. “I wouldn’t be telling you otherwise.”

“Goddesses you made that so complicated,” Link said as he stood up. He approached her and touched her cheeks like she was the most precious thing in the world, stared at her like he’d never seen something more beautiful.

Link chuckled, happy, relieved. Zelda was stunned as she searched him, every bit of his stoicism melting away like the icy facade it was.

“I should tell you I have the exact same illness,” Link said. Zelda smiled and adorned a blush, so much love in her eyes that the artist depicting this moment would have replaced them with hearts.

“Really?” she asked flirtatiously. They swayed in place as they came closer and closer until their foreheads met and their noses brushed messy, invisible paintings on each other until lips were breathing, caressing, then grasping and clutching and inviting, tongues playing and Zelda’s back hitting the bookcase.

So much for a clean study.

#linktober #linktober 2022 #zelink