#prompt five: darkness lets the light shine

[impossiblescissorspeachpaper]

how do you know how bright you shine, unless the darkness has touched you?

elriel month prompt five: darkness lets the light shine

“Where do we go, once we die?”

Azriel’s eyebrows shot toward his hairline. The question had come out of nowhere, surprising him in the way only Elain possibly could. The juxtaposition of her morbid question posed against the truly wholesome surroundings they currently lay within also did not go unnoticed. 

It was mere weeks before the Summer Solstice, the balmy days growing longer and warmer making way for the hottest season. Enamoured by Elain’s genuine excitement for the arrival of midsummer, he had told her there was a little place he had wanted to take her one day whilst they were enjoying tea in her garden. He’d seen her quiet intrigue and immediately made the arrangements. 

Just four days later, Azriel had told Elain to await him in her rose garden at the river house, which she had done so, looking positively stunning adorned in one of her jewel coloured dresses. Gathering her in his arms, Azriel had flown Elain out toward the eastern outskirts of Velaris, to a field of wildflowers he’d soared over countless times on his way to the Steppes.

The valley was isolated, not another soul to be found for miles, and the long grass of the sloped plain danced in the wind as clumps of colourful wildflowers dotted its façade. 

Elain had silently stared in awe as they flew over the secluded glade, Azriel soundlessly landing them within it moments later.

Sure, he could have winnowed, but how else could he have relished in hours of having Elain held in his arms, the smooth pass of her fingers playing in the short hair at his neck. He may have taken a slightly longer route to get there, his wings only beating at not even half their usual speed, languidly sailing them through the warm breeze under the guise of not wanting to ruffle her hair or clothes too much.

As soon as Azriel had reluctantly placed Elain on her feet, she had promptly hitched her skirts in a fist and was immediately wandering about the valley, picking an array of wildflowers or simply stopping to inspect others. 

She had fashioned a crown of sorts out of some of the flowers she had picked, her lithe fingers braiding the stems skilfully as they sat knee to knee in the tall grass, basking in warm sun.

Resting the crown atop his head with a satisfied smile, she’d then scanned his face as if she wished to memorize it, before nodding just once, and proceeded to recline in the tall grass. Folding her hands over her stomach and crossing her ankles, she’d made herself comfortable, Azriel soon following suit and stretching out on his back beside her. 

So, when she had voiced her query about a subject so grim, she had certainly caught him off guard. Of course, he could appreciate that her mind was indeed diverse— other, even— so it made sense she contemplated such things that those without the power of Sight often wouldn’t. He knew her visions spoke to her in mysterious ways, the oracular nature of them perhaps awakening dark thoughts she may not have previously contemplated too closely.

Generally, the Fae abhorred talking about death and the afterlife. For long-lived creatures such as themselves, it often struck him as odd that they would avoid the topic of death as vehemently as they did.

It wasn’t taboo, per se, but it was wildly unpopular conversation material and generally regarded as morbid and inappropriate. Funny, where the fae decided to draw their lines.

He wasn’t sure if the attitude of the Fae toward the topic was born from a sense of arrogance, believing they were indeed the all-mighty, ever-enduring creatures that were impossible to kill that featured in the tales humans told their young, or, alternatively, if it simply stemmed from fear. He surmised that arguments could be made for both.

Azriel supposed, as a former human, mortality was a more commonplace thought for Elain. And besides, she didn’t shy away from discussing difficult topics. At least not with him, not lately. Her penchant to open such conversations and discuss them for hours with candour had become a favourite pastime of his.

The hard ground pressed into his back, the blades of grass tickling his wings as the breeze tousled his hair. One of his shadows braved the sunshine and darted out to twine lazily in Elain’s hair beside him.

“Why do you ask?” 

Instead of answering, he’d decided to prompt her further, unsure where her train of thought was headed. Seeking further explanation seemed the safest route before delving headfirst into such heavy discussion.

“Well, you- we, all live for so long now. As a human, we believed we would spend the afterlife in heaven to live out eternity in everlasting peace. Away from the threat of the fae above the wall,” a corner of mouth tugged up at the irony before she continued, “but, when your life spans for hundreds or even thousands of years… well, I suppose- where would you possibly want to go, after all that?”

Azriel paused, thinking on Elain’s question. Only to a former human would the thought occur that an immortal life may be enough. Humans were granted only a fraction of what the Fae may have, and yet they still greedily wanted more. Yes humans, with their seventy, eighty, maybe ninety-year lifespans— if they were lucky— seemed much more content with that. 

“After a faeries death, it is said they pass into the Land of Milk and Honey,” he supplied simply.

He heard Elain shift beside him. “And what is that, exactly? Is it like heaven?”

“It is our promised land. The souls of the worthy are sent to that paradise to enjoy the spoils of abundance and endless comforts. Infinite bounties and peace.”

Elain paused again, before continuing. “And how does that differ from what we have now?”

Azriel blinked. He supposed she was right. The life they were fortunate enough to lead, was extremely abundant. It is true, it had not always been this way for all of them. Not him, certainly not Cassian, and even the Archerons had lived in impoverishment for years before Feyre was taken above the wall. But now, they wanted for nothing.

Truly, they were beyond comfortable and happy.

“I suppose, any stress or anguish dissipates there too.”

Elain hummed, sinking back into quiet contemplation. She stared up at the sky, the clouds lazily drifting by in the breeze making shapes that depicted nothing at all.

“Where do you think I’ll end up?”

Azriel snapped his head toward her, the grass beneath him poking into the side of his face as he stared over at Elian.

Her face was still tilted up toward the sky, her profile lovely and cheeks flushed from the warm sun. But her brow was furrowed slightly, as much dissatisfaction as Elain’s pleasant countenance would allow to show in a moment like this.

Was she anxious about her mortality? Had she Seen something of concern? His shadows skittered restlessly in the shelter his wings provided from the sun.

“Well, I suppose that would be up to you.”

Elain blinked slowly before rolling over onto her side to face him fully, her legs curling up toward her belly, her bare feet skimming the tunic of his leathers. Her slippers lay discarded a few meters away, having kicked them off earlier, sinking her toes into the soft grass.

“How so?”

Turning his face back toward the heavens he inhaled slowly before answering her.

“Well, how do you feel? Inside- in your soul? Do you feel more human, or fae?”

Her eyebrows twitched as his question registered in her mind. “Are you saying I would get a choice? When the time comes?”

He didn’t want to think about a world without Elain Archeron in it. He hoped he would be long gone before that day came.

“I don’t see why not.”

A little contemplative noise drifted from her throat. She was silent for several moments before her next question bubbled from her lips.

“What do the Illyrians believe? Where do they think they go?”

Azriel’s expression flickered, his eyes glazing over at the mention of his heritage.

“The Illyrians are a war mongering race whose beliefs reflect as such. They say that if you die an honourable death during battle, you are worthy of spending the afterlife with Enalius and his battalion, feasting and drinking with all the greatest warriors in Epidamnos’ golden palace, forever more.”

Again, Elain went silent, twisting her face toward the clear blue sky once more. The lines of her face were contemplative, thoughtful.

“So then, you would have a choice too. Illyrian, or fae.”

She spoke of such things so simply, so matter-of-factly. As if she were merely commenting on the weather. How her sunny disposition managed to innocently seep into a topic as dark and morose as death and discuss it so simply was a true testament to Elain’s innate goodness.

“By those standards, I suppose you’d be correct.”

She turned to him again, poking him in the arm with a slender finger.

“Well? Would you choose the fae afterlife? Or the fancy Illyrian one?”

Her doe eyes were wide, eager, bright in the afternoon sun. Not a hint of jest on her lovely face. Just pure curiosity and genuine interest.

Snaking his hand through the long strands of the soft grass he reached for her, threading his fingers between hers. Her skin was smooth, soft, warmed from the waxing summer sun.

He held her hand within his, her small palm engulfed in his large one, and he marvelled at the feel of it. Her slender fingers curled between his, squeezing his hand gently in return.

Locking his gaze on hers, he found his breathing slowing, his mind quietening, his body thawing as if it were melting into the earth in her presence. He always felt like some cosmic puzzle was clicking into place, some unanswered question was finally finding its solution when Elain stared at him like that.

He finally felt whole, complete. Like the Armageddon of dark and light clashing and the war of those two sides melding to create something entirely new; something precious and terrifying and rare. A perfect, equal blend of the two. Of Dark and Light.

Bringing her hand up to his lips, he pressed a tender kiss to the unblemished skin of her palm.

“I’ll go wherever you go, Elain.”

*******

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#elriel month 2023 #t writes #elriel #elriel fic #elain x azriel #elriel month #acotar fanfiction #acotar #elain archeron #azriel #prompt five: darkness lets the light shine

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 7

[prompt: praise kink]

male reader x shen xiaoting

7k words

Well - from a glance, Xiaoting is flawless.

Every photographer makes the same movement as soon as she steps foot onto the stage - almost as if she's commanding them - but it's not a fair competition and she knows it.

The tiny black dress wrapped around her waist, hugging every meticulous angle in its stretch, isn't exactly the most practical of options, but then again nor was the sleeveless cut or the low-backend, nor the slit in the skirt that shows however much leg you're curious to see, nor the five-inch Louboutins with little ribbons at the ankles, crystals in their mesh like a real-life glass slipper - so, truly, anything about this outfit.

But in this industry, red carpets are about one thing: image.

(Something Xiaoting wields in excess.)

She pauses the subtle sashay of her hips mid-way across the stage, and pivots around, straightening out the waves in her hair, done-up and perfect-in-pink, over her shoulders. She lets the flash of every camera illuminate the swell of her lips in full - reflect and shimmer in the sequence of diamonds dangling under her ears. But it's all in that little smirk, the tilt of her chin. Everything working together to sell the moment; how breathtakingly beautiful she is, how proud, confident and seemingly indifferent to all the commotion happening around her - to every person calling her name and pleading for her to look in this specific direction.

You can watch how deliberate she holds her posture. See it. Understand it. Watch how she tips her head. The genuine kind of smile that could drive anyone to absolute ruin.

Maybe the more obvious: how the cameras love her - love the flash, the shine and glitter and sparkle of the fabric, love the turn of a heel onto where her legs are poised, her profile a perfect angle for every shot and more and more and more.

There's not even the slightest suggestion of just how overwhelmed she is.

-

"You're not supposed to be back here," is the very first thing you hear, as soon as Xiaoting catches your reflection in the vanity mirror.

You hold up a press pass with a headshot that loosely looks like you. Like in a really dark, kind of out-of-focus photo sort of way. Xiaoting simply lets out a slightly disapproving sigh.

"Someone's probably looking for that, you know."

"What's the worst thing that could happen? Someone doesn't get to ask you what your favorite color is, or what you had for breakfast? God forbid we need to know your TMI."

She slips the crystal bracelet off the end of her narrow wrist and places it gently next to the red carpet gear strewn across the surface in front of her. A necklace. The earrings, similar in their shimmer. A matching headband, an evening clutch in white. It's all sitting, not necessarily disorganized, but it's in the mess that Xiaoting is all the while searching for things; lip gloss and makeup, small hair clips.

"You could get us both in trouble, for starters."

When she looks up at you, briefly, there's an attempt at a scolding expression - a short-lived one, how it quickly gives way to a grin, a laugh, all the things she can't help when it's you in particular.

"I'll make sure it finds its way back where I found it," and with a hand over her shoulder, "or at least somewhere close enough. If anyone asks."

Xiaoting bounces an impossibly sweet smile off the mirror at you when her eyes find yours again. And while she starts unclipping pins from her hair, lifting and tousling and adjusting the curls into a more familiar shape, you're almost entranced in the way her shoulders loosen and her eyelashes flutter. In this light, she's even more devastating: an illusion of something both fragile, and immensely resilient.

"At the very least," she says, "I won't hold my breath for anyone else to find their way into my dressing room anytime soon."

She gets a hold of a simple clip, pulls a stray strand of pink off her cheek, and tucks it behind her ear. The gesture is fluid, elegant even, and so singular.

She really is, gorgeous.

The fact that you have to occasionally remind her of that is a different maddening issue entirely. You've always wondered - and always will continue to wonder, really - why it is the prettiest girls seem to have the hardest time understanding they're beautiful. It makes you crazy, makes your head hurt.

There's an entire world worth of things for her to fixate her attention on: her job, her fans and career; a hundred more names and faces to learn - people who would probably agree to hang the stars in the sky for her, given the chance, the mere opportunity. But instead she can only bring herself to stare into a mirror and compare notes and point out all these things she doesn't feel ready for.

This interview, or her performance, or the next.

"They're talking about me. Those 'insiders'," she explains, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the voices in the hallway. "Said, my styling this past year has been too 'soft.' Too 'girly.' No one's buying it," and with a pout: "now, or then, apparently"

"Always works for me," you tell her, in a way that implies it's absolutely none of their business at the end of the day; what colors Xiaoting shows up in, how she wears her makeup and dresses, her shoes or perfume.

She floats her fingers up to the dip of her collarbone, weaving them into your hand. The contented look on her face, now a near permanent fixture in the space she keeps between the two of you, suggests that of all her accessories - gifts and borrowed things she wears in a perpetual game of dress-up - you're the one she would prefer most.

"Well," she says, fixing you a mischievous twist of her brow, "you'd say that if I was up there wearing nothing at all."

"Oh, not a doubt in my mind."

(As usual, the both of you laugh far too much.

As usual, neither of you manage to care.

Your lives have always been about soft edges. A little nonsense here and there, so long as it means having more of her.)

She brings your knuckles to her lips, careful and reserved, and holds the tips of her fingers gently to your neck. "How much more do you have tonight?"

"The rest of the hour is probably asking too much." You help Xiaoting onto her feet, arms wrapping her middle, and with a kiss dropped into her hair, you tell her, "should probably report in, let someone know I haven't gotten myself expelled."

"Thought you said you were a terrible liar."

"Oh, I am," you say. "That's just how much trouble I've already been making for myself tonight."

Xiaoting watches you kiss her shoulder, her neck, all in amusement, eyes never breaking contact as your lips brush and linger against the delicate shape of her wrist. A shiver in her exhale - almost a laugh, an 'I'm listening,' in a form of its own - and you find her body shifting into a natural and familiar hold; the outline of her mouth so unbelievably tempting when it parts so naturally - that when it comes down to a choice: Xiaoting against you, you and her in her private room, the hustle and bustle, and rush-hustle of the building and people and machines outside your door -

It really doesn't take too much convincing.

"Fifteen minutes. They'll start wondering," you tell her, already dipping forward to capture her in your arms. She falls right back, perfectly content as though she doesn't belong anywhere else. "We'd have to be really quick."

"You're bad," Xiaoting hums, winding further into your arms, smiling between the warm, warm kisses you're trailing along the collar of her dress, where the zipper is resting and ready to be drawn down.

The moment is candid: you pressing your lips into the bare skin of her shoulder, following it up with something that's part laugh, and part the kind of sigh people make after too long without sleep. You're already struggling against the curve of her waist - the swell of her hips, all her curves - while your nose nuzzles in deeper, a delicate exploration into the bend of her neck, against her shoulder, the hint of perfume. 

"Only one of us can be perfect, sweetheart." The damn truth, even if she hears it all the time and from everyone else. "You're gonna have to settle.”

You watch her expression melt into that self-composed, self-confident mien when you say it - in a quiet, contented kind of way; an ethereal sort of assurance. As though she was never meant to be touched by anyone, much less held by you, but somehow decided to allow it nonetheless. That look in her eye, it makes your heart twist. Every damn time.

"What about an accident," she muses, "something keeping you longer. Twenty maybe?"

"Oh," you chuckle. "Those happen in the hallway and parking lot. Where everyone can see. Never behind the scenes, for a totally unlikely and unrelated reason."

"Technicalities."

She turns to face you, fully, eyes lit and shimmery under the room's lighting; pink hair, all shades of glitter and silk and the smoothest, warmest skin. Your touch grazes up her sides, palms smoothing over the fine print, the sequins in the fabric, her hands all the while busy weaving, needily, around your waist, underneath the line of your shirt, finding and tracing along the ridges in your hips and spine.

Xiaoting wants you - plain and simple as that. The look on her face says as much.

And if you don't touch her now, kiss and feel her against you - all of it at once - she'll make sure you regret ever prioritizing anything over her. Over the two of you, and how perfectly and neatly you fit together, even if that means you're both absent for press calls, or a segment, or an interview she can't be late to. She'll blame you and it'll be okay.

"Fourteen minutes now," you inform her. "If it’s something you're counting."

"Give or take a few," Xiaoting smiles. Her words slip against your cheek, hot and honey-coated. It's tempting. Her teeth find your jawline and the gentle nip against your skin is hard to ignore. "Did you lock the door?"

"Believe it or not, that was the first thing I did."

And with her hips in your palms, you steal a kiss, because you can - because she's kissing you right back - her forearms wrapping over your shoulders, holding you tight around your neck, and, ahh - Xiaoting's mouth - how eagerly, so desperately, she parts your lips and slips her tongue over your teeth, humming, mumbling happily into a second and third and fourth kiss. Then, once the heat of the moment sweeps in, melting into something slower, sweeter, lingering, a little deeper, it's another.

And another after that.

She leans into you, the rise and fall, slow-down-then-start-again, of her chest and of her breathing and of the tiny, stifled noises she’s kissing into your lips. Only you're pinching the fabric around her waist, slowly lifting the hem of her skirt further up her thighs and reminding her that there's a promise for slow later, that she can take all the time in the world to map and remember the planes and edges of your body; trace the curves of every little sensitive spot and learn again how she fits into your hands, in the time and space that's left to the two of you alone.

"Thirteen-"

"Minutes," she echoes breathily against your ear and over the sound of her fingers in your belt. "I know. Got it."

Xiaoting's hasty. She has to be; reaching and fumbling to pop open your pants while the heat of her mouth finds you first, her tongue sliding smooth across your throat, chin, the warmth and the taste, then along the corner of your mouth - your tongue chasing hers and turning it into a mess that's as intimate and satisfying as it is clumsy; breath catching in both your mouths, hands intertwining, needing the contact with just as much fervent abandon.

Off, off, off, she's murmuring into you, thumbs perched dangerously on your waist, dipping into the fabric, tracing the rim, taking a tease down a little farther with each lazy caress, and, in the very back of your mind, there's a small voice in agreement that insists you are most definitely in no hurry at all.

It grows louder when the small shape of Xiaoting's palm is all the way down the rise of your pants, all over where you're beginning to grow hard - straining and twitching and almost painfully, impatiently interested. You hold her closer and clutch harder because the need is like a burn - one that's seared itself comfortably, wonderfully between your hips, where you feel each brush and curve and fond stroke of her touch.

Her eyes lift to meet yours, gleaming and knowing and laughing, no doubt aware that you're both going to be wrecked no matter which of these games she wins.

"Nothing we can't solve here and now." She tells you.

"True."

"I'll get my mouth on you later, make it all better."

"Later?" Your voice, completely a mess and breaking just enough, forces its way between a kiss that feels anything but. You're pleading for her, into her lips. "Oh, is that a promise, sweetheart?"

"A promise," Xiaoting gasps. "Or a threat. Depends how fast you're ready for me."

"Hush." And you hold her mouth open with yours, devour and drink the sounds falling from her tongue, each one that starts off shallow then trails deeper and deeper and deeper, until her hands have settled over you, and her fingers are finally pushing below the hem, and working the length of your cock, up and down and along it all.

"Hey,” she says, far too inviting, “aren't you supposed to be, like, tearing off this dress by now?"

Xiaoting smirks up at you. With a slight motion of her hand, the other having come to wrap fully around your shaft, the two fingers twisting along your tip, spreading the beading moisture into a long stroke.

"Very gentlemanly of you, wanting to keep it all nice and put together-" and with a wiggle of her brows, "-unsuspicious."

You clench your teeth through a gasp - a jolt at the sudden brush of her fingertips over the base, further down. Xiaoting has that mischief to her - she always has - a certain inclination to press and test the boundaries until they're unrecognizable, to poke and prod where she shouldn't, only the slightest bit concerned.

"Trust me, I would. Only this is a dress I can't afford to ruin, sweetheart." You're leaning her against the vanity, freeing one of her hands to press around behind her, against the cold, cluttered countertop, feeling how the sharp breath in her lungs goes soft and hot immediately, wanting.

"In that case," she tells you, a knowing tilt in her mouth, "you'll just have to ruin me in it."

That's a little closer to your budget given how fast your arm slips under her hip, pulling her up onto the vanity and angling her into you. Her skirt ruffles and follows, the material all too eager to keep you and the lithe frame of her body nice and snug together. There's that sharp gasp in her chest again, at the hand you're running up her thighs; an approval to your arrangement in the sound of her laughter, to your kiss, and all the fever-filled strokes jerking your cock that she's busying herself with again.

You can feel an urge you both share and want to make real and tangible, to peel down and past and over those tiny black panties; feel the heat rising, the wetness there, and all the eager, eager noises of her pleasure.

"Ten minutes." Your teeth are grazing into her lip, her mouth, while she whimpers so pretty into your throat. "Does that put any ideas in your head?"

"Nearly everything." Xiaoting lets your pants fall and uses the back of her heel to skid them down around your feet. "But maybe, especially your cock right here, if you’re going to slide it so slowly over me-" she sucks on her next breath, holding her hand where her panties are; smoothing against you with her hips rocking forward.

You feel her head drop, slightly, when she whispers into a heated kiss, "right between, the most tender way, where I'm aching the most."

"I bet you'd look beautiful with it," you say, all kinds of things, leaning and mumbling into her neck, all that exposed skin. "My cum on you. Sitting so good right here, in such a tight little-"

She stops your teasing with her kiss, pushing forward to the point where her ass is bumping right against your hips, your hand, your cock; coaxing you in closer.

And then, a particularly stern warning, probably warranted, sneaks out through the bite of her lip; just barely restrained: "I swear to god if you make a mess anywhere - don’t, if you know what's best for you.”

"That's a pretty roundabout way of asking me to cum inside you, Xiaoting. Wording matters."

"Telling." Her smile is all kinds of sly; all for you to witness and tuck safely in your pocket later. "Not asking."

"We’ll see what we can do with nine minutes," you tell her, and your cock is snug against the lace of her underwear - right where she's so fucking wet - you can already hear it in the little, jerking huffs in her voice and on her breath and how your hands are touching her through the fabric. How between hot, clumsy kisses, she's lifting and drawing her body as close as possible and curling into you.

(God.)

"Easy," she mouths, all hot and hazy as she drags the lacy band of elastic aside. It's your turn to inhale and jerk and gasp, but there's hardly anything there to catch you, just her whisper that says, "there you go, honey, fill me up real slow. Right to the very, very top," her voice arching high when you've begun to nudge your cock into her, opening her up and up and up with a slow, steady thrust. "Just - like - that."

And in the seconds, maybe minutes (you’re trying not to lose track), that follow, you are holding your breath against the heat blossoming through her cheek. Against Xiaoting, flushed and whimpering, hands buried in her dress and her hips starting to roll back on your cock. It's a tiny adjustment; nowhere to go but deeper, further - grinding together however you can manage.

It's one thing to love each other quietly, discretely and with all that discretion.

It's another entirely, in times like these, to give in to a raw-edge impulse that hits suddenly and leaves just as fast. Your hips snap in and in and in, Xiaoting's chest rising and rising, her head turned and pressed into the shoulder of your shirt, her hand already caught in a fistful of sleeve. And you - the friction is so soft and so good, a slick, easy glide of your cock - full - all the way to the very last inch.

Just her seedy, whimpering whine fills the back of your neck and your ear, and her arms and her legs locked in around you, like a coil ready to burst, that ache coming to a head.

The ends of her hair are soft and sweet where you gather a fistful of pink around your wrist, hold - pull, like a taut string. Xiaoting gasps a fluttering note as her chin tips up, the smooth canvas of her throat begging to be kissed and roughed up in just the right places. Reddening like the insides of her thighs, the heat there, where they're pinched around your waist - delicate little marks of where you're fucking her open and bare and deep and so well.

You could drink up each and every noise - all the keening and humming, the ruffled, strung-out sounds; how you're both breathing into a shared mess of gasping and panting, of Xiaoting whimpering into your throat, clinging on like she'll die otherwise. "Faster," she pleads all desperate and urgent. "More. Fuck this pussy like it deserves, don't you want it? So wet, can't you feeling how I'm aching?"

You can. Hot and wet and absolute.

You can feel the shudder-wreck, the absolute throe - there's not an ounce left between you; nothing but her slick, warm cunt clutching and hugging your cock, letting it stretch her apart and fill her again and again, the little ridge between your hips slipping over her clit on a forward, upward stroke and grinding there, with a shaky hand cradling her lower back for support while you drive back into the thrust.

"Ting, fucking christ - Ting, your tight little pussy is incredible." You groan into her skin. "Taking me, fucking, taking every, last, inch-"

"I can feel you fucking throbbing," Xiaoting tells you, all teasing and exasperated as she lets your name turn into a series of vibrating hums against your lips. "You're going to make me fucking lose it, the way you're hitting me inside."

See, you fit together, inside-and-outside so perfect; that when you begin to really fuck Xiaoting, when she's making it clear, over, and over, yes, harder, give it to me, and the table she's sitting on is giving away each-and-every one of her whimpers, you lose yourself in the rhythm and pace and the fact that Xiaoting's creaming cunt is working itself hot and messy and pulsating around you; so fucking tight, tight, - slick all around - almost drawing you in, then resisting and tensing every-time your cock finds just the deepest angle.

It's something to push, something that makes you greedy and drive her ass into the cabinet even more; make sure you're slipping along her walls just enough, and doing so with every few inches or less that you're managing to drive, working over a pressure so sensitive it might be making her see stars, every time a thumb digs a little deeper into her hip bone.

"All the way, baby," she's saying, whispering, making you want to fuck the words out of her in broken pieces. "So. Close. Just a little-"

She's gone, her back arched - bending into an incredible sight. And there's the most beautiful look on her face, even under the frantic-urgent rush. Your hands are all over her: pressing into the divots above her hips; petting the expanse between her tits, then down again, feeling out her ribcage, her belly, in between her thighs and parting them wider - like if she were any more spread open, she'd be coming right off the table.

Then, the thumb tangled into the sleeve of her dress, the rough pad of the other rubbing circles over her swollen clit - here you'll figure she'll cum; she's never shy about it - but it's more a question of how many times. How it always builds up and comes apart.

You're obsessed, really, with the details: her eyelids fluttering, the sounds of her skin sliding down onto the cabinets, her lips that can never get themselves closed.

"Oh, Ting," you're panting, licking all over her parted mouth, "do you need-"

Her nails begin to cut half-crescents into the small of your back, where she's been gripping at you; a moan falls straight out from her tongue, straight into your own, the closest she'll ever come to asking for anything: but it's easy.

"You're so fucking pretty, baby, I'll give you whatever you need-"

You slide your fingers higher up her folds, pushing onto her hot cunt right over the spot where your cock is disappearing inside her.

"I know that's what you need to be fucked silly, right? Need some extra friction so I can have the entire inside of this fucking cunt dripping-"

Xiaoting makes a noise that tells you, good guess. And you're playing her closer and closer to her orgasm, watching her teeth sink into her own lip, knowing that she's the one on a timer - which makes it all the easier, because you know exactly what to say next, because you've played this game enough - when you've already been fucking her and fingering her through one or two and her noises are telling you her body needs just one more, and then, the words usually roll right out, not the slightest bit contrived:

"That's it, sweetheart, you look so fucking good. So, so pretty cumming on my cock, baby. You're fucking gorgeous, you know that? I can't get enough of you."

Her mouth falls open, eyes screwing tight with it - the praise, the way you can talk her right into it every fucking time - the way it all but kills her: even when she's getting pumped full of pre-cum and sleeved around your cock like a glove, you know that sometimes the words are the only thing she's chasing, and her jaw starts to trembling just like the rest of her. This full body tension, head to toe of perfection you're whispering in her ear. She's pressing her heels harder than before against the back of your legs, digging, her whole chest shaking for a gasp of air she doesn't seem to ever be able to fully catch.

"But god, I wish you were looking at me," you're begging, sincere, with a deep sort of pining, when you get the the sharp twist of her neck, like it takes everything in her, then, like it's a miracle - those lidded, still-water eyes focused right on you. "I want to make you fall apart, just looking at me, sweetheart."

(Your poor heart. An obsession. So in love with her.)

The kiss you steal from her lips is deeper, your tongues playing a familiar song, the push, pull - how easy and perfect she fits.

When she cums, it always starts quiet, not like what she's just started doing: the kind of cries and moans that begin to make it past her teeth, desperate and panting, her fingers crushing down in place where they're pressed to your skin. Those whimpers that start quiet, get loud, fast, and then Xiaoting's arching right up from the table and clenching her entire body. With you inside her, she's so wrapped up in how good it is, the pleasure spiking past her pussy and into her veins.

"Shh," you soothe her, lovingly brushing her hair to the side when her breath shudders hard; the mess you made, sliding a palm against her cheek when the first few tears gather, the way they always do when Xiaoting's overwhelmed and torn down in such a good, beautiful way. 

You could kiss her, when you feel the curve of her trembling lips. You do, again-again; slip and wet and parted and sliding when Xiaoting lets you hold the base of her chin between your forefinger and thumb, and bring your mouths together like that.

You could hold the moment longer. Keep kissing her and not moving - except Xiaoting has that meek, "Fuck me," mumbled into your open mouth, her half-wits returning and giving her the very start of a wicked grin - all sloppy with orgasm. "However you want, whatever will make you cum fast-"

"Turn around for me. I'm going to show you how pretty you are, looking just like that-"

"Y-Yeah- '' Xiaoting is trying, her joints trembling as she moves her body. She's so good, listening, rolling onto the surface of the table with her ass up, palms spread out and supporting her into this perfect line. Xiaoting's defining the curve: where her lower back and tight little ass begins and ends, right up into her shoulders and spine. Her hair has fallen across one side, and now you can finally see how much she's blushing in the mirror, the messes that her eye makeup has smudged into, how good she's been, and now how sweet and pliable and worked open her muscles are.

The view alone could have you blowing your load before you can even do it properly inside her.

But, god - the fact that her dress was hanging down on one shoulder, then on none, exposing her naked skin entirely; the fact that you can't resist grabbing a hand around a waist-full of her body and dragging her back closer, slotting your thighs under hers and her ass up against you, cock sliding into her still-clenching cunt without the help of your hands, just finding it where it belonged. You give it to her like she's meant to take. Fast. Hard. Deep. Making sure each-time your cock is in its base-deep place and sliding right back out, pulling slick, creamy strands out from her fucked-out pussy. Bathing you in her want, her need, pooling along the base of your cock; seeping everywhere.

There's just so much of it. The sounds echoing off the empty walls, so distinct, unmistakable, so full and thick. The way your whole body seems to tighten and tense along with hers - everything tight, you can see it, your eyes sweeping from Xiaoting's thighs to the reflection of how she just takes you. Shaking each time, the lines of her body wobble forward when your hips land a heavy thrust and slide along every bit velvety-wet inside her: no room for your cum when she's this overflowing, you figure, wondering how full of it she could even get.

"Fuck," the word just slides off you. "Fucking god, you're the best fuck," you praise her. Like heaven.

Because Your hand is in her hair again, wrapped up in and smoothing over the tangles; feeling her like silk. But now you're grabbing too - holding her steady, a fistful between the roots; you want her back arched, canted just that one angle higher that you know would push her past all limits.

“Oh my god,” she gasps out, once your get her knee planted up on the counter - once she's spread herself even further for the weight of your body. "That's it - holy shit, please-more-"

There are little whispers too - stuff that makes your cock twitch a few times, pulsing in warning - not even fully aware that she's cumming down all over your waist, praises like the hottest of filth, please and yes and I need it and fuck and fucking christ, keep going and don't stop don't stop please baby I'll do anything anything-

Xiaoting's voice reaches the same high pitch she does when her clit is getting hit, not sure what part of her body you're touching or just the overwhelming sensation, but god she doesn't know which way to turn her neck and face. She just ends up taking it all in, breathing in the gravity of the moment - her reflection, yours, the feeling - a tremor building up, her eyes flickering back-forth when she realizes they've started to close, forcing herself to look at the both of you.

You fuck your cock through each inch of her quivering cunt, each one hotter, tighter, wetter than the last - until you're spilling cum - cumming deep and fast inside her -

Reaching so far she can feel the thick pool of it getting fucked further into her with every shallow snap of your hips; her ass flushing back up against your stomach. Filling her to the brim - enough to feel it drip and seep and slide.

And she doesn't stop, the way she has her hips rolling down your length and staying there, your cock rooted into her deepest spot. If there's one more thing she gets off on it's being filled, milking the remnants, emptying you, and - because she's almost fucking teasing you, you feel it when she's clenching the remaining dredges right out of your body; out and leaking hot along your over-sensitised skin. The sharp sting of it has your hands tight on her waist, her ass spilling through the gaps of your fingers - deciding what you'll do.

"Three minutes," she says, panting, "is enough-"

You squeeze through the sculpted round of her ass. Spank it. Knead it.

"You want me to fuck another one into you - can you take that? You'd be such a good girl if you can take a fucking like that."

"I mean it," Xiaoting rasps, hips still lifted and angled toward you, as she meets you in the mirror; her eyes looking past your reflection, still coming down, wrecked and fucked raw, but making the message clear. "I'll make it easy for you."

And with that's she got her hand on your still-hard cock; not nearly enough softness in her voice for the rough grip and the sloppy pumping - fucking filth out of her still, if there was ever any hope of getting it out the way she's pulling and using and moving the slick all over you, spilling it onto the floor. "Think I can make you cum again, right here and now."

The thing about Xiaoting is:

She makes bad decisions, but always with the best intentions. That's why you always know what she'll say.

Because it's almost always the same answer: a pair of crossed wrists and a coy-eagerness that's enough of an invitation for you to make use of what she's given.

And this is the exact way you find yourself dragging the fabric of her dress down her shoulder, her middle, her breasts falling back down from their bounce when you unwind it, then twisting the end tightly into itself before shoving it into the soft valley of her mouth.

I love your tits, you know that?" you tell her, mouth open and hot against her shoulder blade. “So fucking pretty all over, Ting, your entire body's amazing and it does things to me-if I could, I would keep my cum inside this tiny little pussy, over and over, keep filling it. Make your tummy swell for me, sweet baby, and never let a single drop-"

"Do it-" she moans out, words garbled by the fabric. Her eyes are wide and full of the darkest innocence, like anything could happen; anything you wished. "Do it, your fucking cock, want to feel you-"

You spank her again, and she keens.

The mirror is showing you how her chest reddens under the rush of your hands kneading at her, almost violent, before sliding down the back-insides of her thigh, pushing, "But, what you look like with my cock buried inside you, stretched out and still so fucking tiny around me."

It's not new. It's what makes Xiaoting give you the dirtiest, sexiest little hum around the cloth wedged inside her mouth.

Then her cunt clenches down on your cock, and you're groaning, "christ," watching the way her face tugs at the stretch, watching, when her back is pushed out again - the angle. You're lining up, sucking in the full and naked and glistening display of her body before letting your hips fuck into hers again. It feels even better than the first time: tightening like a vise around the thickness of you, your cum pouring back inside her, then with her eyes fixed to yours in the mirror, you get to watch her lips straining; a drooling, whimpering mess.

Then. You're slamming her waist into the table. Rough, reckless. Desperate to reach another edge, rough enough that she can barely look up from her bowed elbows, elegant features twisted into something a little more awful, a little more pretty - just there, and - and - 

A third time. Four. More.

Xiaoting's whimpering, just so spent she has nothing else left, your cock filling her up so full and hot with your spill; she's sloppy and flushed and you're pressing her up into the cool surface of the mirror, with her legs giving in when she collapses over her heels and nearly tumbles over; her own body weighing nothing.

If she asked, "carry me," in any way, you'd be on her like clockwork; you'd get her turned around into a loose-limbed pile, a leg thrown over each of her waist; she'd already have her cheek nestled against your jaw, halfway asleep, a warm bundle pressed up and waiting to get tucked into bed and swept into all of the things that would make her purr and melt; blankets and warm-clothes and showers and tending.

You'd always make a show out of sweeping her off her feet. Because the thing is, Xiaoting deserves it.

And you let her know that:

"You're always the sweetest, aren't you? Taking a fucking like that," you tell her, burying the dying gasps of a laugh right into the sweat-sticky back of her neck. You can feel her throat vibrating out a small sound, her brain almost definitely not able to formulate words, maybe only just registering the tones of your voice. "You are just so breathtakingly gorgeous, babe, the prettiest baby. The fucking world must be upside down, because no one tells you nearly often enough."

And -

Xiaoting - really, above all else, is fucking gorgeous. Because her tired laugh echoes a small part of itself straight down your spine, filling all the dips between each of your vertebrae. Genuine smile and all.

It has your skin crawling back to life, warming up.

There's a murmured 'thank you' said somewhere into the back of her hand, between her pinky finger and her ring, a small, stifled breath that pulls on her tired voice; it's a sleepy sound, like honey, and maybe that's why you choose to tell her one more time.

You glance at the clock on the wall. It's been a good fifteen-plus-extra minutes. You can live with that.

"Told you we'd be late," you say, smoothing out the fabric of her dress.

Which means this is the second time she says: "Nothing there we can’t solve with a little..."

"Carelessness?"

"Misdirection. Pretty convenient for some of us," Xiaoting murmurs with the lingering sweetness of your kiss on her lips. "Who have that charming talent with words."

She looks up, wincing and dabbing at the dried tracks on her cheeks where her eyelashes have swept away all the makeup and tears, like a soft brush sweeping away the layer of snow, she lets her head rest there in your palm and the other soothes, warm, on the back of her neck - her shoulders a little slack when you feel her whole body relax.

"Love you," Xiaoting says, after a heavy breath; a shaky exhale, just under her tongue; "even when we're a little crazy."

Your cheeks warm as they squish themselves around her grin.

"Love you. Now hold still," you say - taking it slow, kissing the damp pink curls right behind her ear. Then, for the most part, it's back to business. Back to normal.

Makeup wipes and wet washcloths. Clearing and setting the furniture upright. Hastily undoing the locks, so that to anyone who's passing by and smelling the raw, irrefutable evidence of sex and sin, they can turn away and think twice - no one's fault except the wicked thoughts swirling and forming in the back of their thoughts.

(No matter how many times you do, it's no different with Xiaoting; her smile turns the wheels in your head - still spinning. You can't help it when she laughs with her eyes still half-mast - fucked-out; a headiness, her tone like velvet.)

And the 'yes, we do,' on her breath when she hums again, is the beginning of an I-told-you-so, when you tell her, "c’mon, we've got places to be."

#xiaoting smut #kep1er smut #kepler smut #kpop smut #male reader #capslocked kinkvember

[goldenhypen]

; ⎯ mornings with you .

synopsis. riki loves the mornings with you.

pairing. ni-ki x reader ⋅ genres. fluff, domestic ⋅ wc. 0.9k ⋅ warnings. mentions of food

prompts 5. giving them a kiss before going to work and they are still in bed ; 10. sitting in comfortable silence while eating a meal ; 26. doing a chore for them that you know they aren’t fond of ; 38. letting them warm their cold hands under your shirt ⋅ requested ⋅ dark blood event

a/n. ended up combining a whopping five requests for this one so sjsjjdjddj :’> enjoy!

opening your eyes to the bright sun shining through the windows of the bedroom, you squinted, looking around at your surroundings before noticing riki lying asleep beside you. he looked so peaceful, head laying relaxed on his pillow, turned to face you subconsciously.

you admired his features, from the way his hair was dishevelled and bangs hung over his eyes, to the point of his nose and shape of his lips, all the way down to the moles that marked his chin and neck.

the golden sunlight emphasised his already angelic glow, making you think, how could a night’s sleep leave one looking so effortlessly stunning in the morning?

snapping yourself out of your daze and back to reality, it was time to get ready for work.

carefully, you snuck out of bed.

you and riki had quite different schedules, you being involved in an occupation with more ‘typical’ working hours, and riki—being the idol he was—having the more extreme schedule, often staying up, practising late into the night, and even early into the morning.

you let him get his much-needed rest. but before leaving the room, you walked over to his side of the bed, leaning down and pressing a soft, delicate kiss to the side of his head, but perhaps not gentle enough, as at the moment of contact, he began stirring in his sleep, and immediately, you noticed his eyes were opening.

with an inhale followed by a smile, he let out a puff of air through his nose, content, you being the first thing he got to see in the morning.

no words needed to be exchanged as you two just stared into each other’s eyes, both still attempting to fully wake up.

“come sleep for a little longer,” he said, arms now stretched out for you.

“as tempting as that sounds, no, you know i have to get ready to go,” you told him. “you go back to sleep though. you have a long day ahead of you.”

with your last words, you leaned down, holding the side of his face softly in your palm before leaving a short and sweet kiss on his lips. but in doing so, it left him craving more.

so as you were pulling away, he brought you right back with one of his ice cold hands on your skin as they unintentionally made their way under your shirt.

“riki!” you screamed at the sudden freezing sensation, instinctually backing away, and in turn, removing his hand from your body. “you’re freezing!”

“i’d be more warmed up if you came back for a few more minutes of cuddles,” he justified.

you scoffed playfully, “since you’re suddenly all awake now, get out of bed. let’s eat.”

and at those words, in an instant, his eyes were shut closed, and the fakest snores you’ve ever heard were leaving the boy in front of you.

you jokingly rolled your eyes and left the bedroom to go to the kitchen where you were going to be preparing breakfast—by yourself, apparently.

many minutes passed, and the food was finally about done.

“mmm, smells so good—” riki complimented as he entered the kitchen, circling his arms around your waist from behind, nose digging into your hair as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “—you, that is.”

there must have been something in the morning air that seemed to make him more flirty at this time of the day; this wasn’t the first time—not that you were complaining though.

you were flustered, but you couldn’t let him know that because from past experience, along with the flirting came much teasing if your reactions went noticed.

so you resorted to a light nudge to his ribs instead.

“ack!” he exclaimed. “ouch?!”

“stop being so dramatic, you big baby.”

eventually, you two made it to the dining table and started eating in comfortable silence, quite the contrast from the many playful remarks you two couldn’t help but make just seconds earlier.

from where he was originally focused on his plate, his eyes travelled up and watched you, just thinking about how much he loved waking up to you, sharing breakfast like this in the morning that you cooked for the both of you yourself. he was utterly in love with you to say the least.

after you and riki cleared the food on your plates, you stood up, but riki stopped you, “sit back down and relax for a bit. i’ll do the dishes.”

and this shocked you because no one likes doing the dishes, especially nishimura riki!

he stood up and walked over to you, planting a kiss on the side of your head before gathering the plates and cutlery and bringing them to the sink.

“what did you do, riki?”

“what?” he questioned, confused.

“why are you acting all responsible all of a sudden? did you do something wrong?” you interrogated half jokingly.

“i am responsible! and no, nothing is wrong,” he answered, playfully offended.

“wow,” you let out, almost speechless. “well then you must just be really in love with me.”

“yeah, i am.” and he loved mornings like these he got to spend with you too, even if there weren’t many, but maybe that just made these moments all the more special. and he loved every second of it.

a/n. this was a v fun one to write :’> sigh i love domestic fics they make me so soft :’> if you enjoyed, pls feel free to lmk <3 your lovely words truly make my day! <3 thanks for reading !!

event masterlist.

taglist (open). @raimbows4u @sultrybaby @kpop-nct @beans-and-jeanes @enhacolor @enhasfever @nokacchan @yizhoutv @xiaoderrrr @soobin-chois @tyunni @shinsou-rii @liikno @softkpopplace @belle643 @nar-nia @pshchives @sunjakes @ethereal-engene @yeosayang @4ri-ki @sunoksunny @jaeyunjakesim @tnyhees @enaus @hoes4hoseok @palajae @clarakyunisageek @annoyingbitch83 @4vonly @wonswondrland @rcrystallocks @stepout-09-15 @zeraaax @enhasengene @ktttwwn @pistachiophobia @svnoofy @sweetjaemss @vatterie @mnsnts @chacottone @yeseoist @azurez @milisabunny @wonniestars @iamliacamila @rikislady

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen reactions #enhypen scenarios #enhypen oneshots #enhypen drabbles #niki x reader #niki fluff #niki imagines #niki reactions #niki scenarios #riki x reader #riki fluff #nishimura riki #niki #riki #niki drabbles #niki oneshots

[ellavatorz]

Fear Me || c.b. x reader

prompt: Colby is there for you when the Stanley hotel becomes too much.

tw/cw: violence, angst-y(?), mainly cute protective colby.

photo is not mine, found on Pinterest

a/n: this is for @tealeyewonder, ty for requesting this! it was fun to write & I hope you enjoy <3

*

It wasn’t long after you all had arrived that shit began to happen. In fact, it took exactly five minutes into filming for Amanda, Mackie and yourself to begin hesitating in proceeding with the investigation.

The guys—per usual—begged for you all to stick around just “a little longer!” And so here you five were; vibrating with adrenaline and high off of the aura that the hotel room reeked in.

“Colbs, I’m serious. Are you sure we should continue?” you and colby are isolated from the others, pressed against the entrance, just outside of the shared—and one of the infamously haunted—room 428.

He reaches a hand into your hair and tugs a lock behind your ear, breaking the silence with a gentle and monosyllabic “it’s fine.”

With an eye roll, you shovel your hands into the depths of your jacket’s pockets and drill your gaze into him. Seemingly prepared for your rebuke, Colby proceeds with a cautionary voice.

“I promise I won’t let anything happen to you, okay? It’ll just be for a few more hours and then if you really want to, we can find another hotel nearby and book it. Free of ghosts, alright?”

Sighing in defeat, you settle for his reassurance and choose to remain as calm as you can for the rest of the night in the hotel—albeit still littered with deafening ghost trails and paranormal activity.

*

Colby’s voice resonates around the room as he recites an excerpt from some sort of yelp review left by previous guests of the hotel. The girls and yourself huddle together in front of where he sits on the mattress, watching and listening intently.

“It’s said for a male entity to lean over female guests and..” he quirks a brow and chuckles before continuing, “tries to kiss them.”

“What?” You blurt, eyes enlarging in size before the other two girls are laughing. “Naughty ghosts!” You say jokingly.

“Maybe we should dress up as girls tonight?” Colby jokes, and you all begin to feel the air purify it’s way into peace as you continue.

Suddenly, you all decide to move toward the lone, dark and eerie corners of the Hotel, the staircase which is known for its Vortex.

There, Amanda retells a memory of having imagined an entity following Colby around. Shocked, you latch onto his arm and give him a shake.

“Shit, you’re gonna attract all the ghosts tonight!”

His face replicates mortification as the rest of you laugh cheerfully, silently wishing for the idea of your boyfriend having an attachment to fall through.

“There’s definitely someone here already but I can’t make out who it is exactly. They keep hiding behind the handrails.” Amanda states, pointing at the solid fixture just behind you and Colby. Mackey agrees with a hum and drags her gaze elsewhere.

“It feels.. strange.” You murmur, looking at yourself in the reflection of the mirrors. Colby appears behind you, circling your waist with his arms and smiling contently.

“Oh definitely, but look at how cute we look!”

“Colby.” You smack at his shoulder. “Really?”

“What? It’s true.”

“Alright I say we move back to the room and get some footage of the rem pod.” Sam appears from behind you two and the group agrees.

*

“Great,” colby says after he’s finished setting up the equipment. “Again, if anything comes and touches this device it’ll light up and make a bunch of noise.”

You all nod in understanding, deciding to stand a good distance away from the footing of the bed where the device lies. Instantly, the REM Pod goes off, the red light shining along with it.

“Hello?” Sam greets, mouth wide open in shock. “Do you recognize us? We’ve been here before..”

“Nah, he only cares about girls, man!” Colby jokes, though the device begins sounding off. The girls and yourself move back, stunned at the reaction.

“Holy shit, did it just agree with what you said?” You look over to Colby in surprise. He nods, just as startled as you.

“Do you like girls? Kissing them?” You ask, biting your lip in anxiousness.

The device goes off.

“Do you like us being here?” Amanda asks.

It’s silent.

The five of you share a look before Sam continues. “Can you do something to show us who you are? Are you Flora?”

You room stills, air suddenly thickening with something akin to a suffocating material being held against your face. You blanch are the feeling, trying your best to shake it off until there’s a bang just inches behind you.

The five of you turn in fear and you immediately dart to Colby’s side, feeling an intense amount of pressure in your head. “Okay guys, my head is seriously killing me.”

Mackie gasps, pointing a finger in your direction while moving closer to you. Colby wraps an arm around your middle, turning you to face him as he analyzes your features.

“Your nose is bleeding,” he notes aloud and you frown. “Are you okay?”

“No I just—I don’t know? I felt weird and then the noise happened.” You explain, holding a napkin to your nose that Mackie had gotten for you. Sam brings the camera close to your face, to which you scowl at.

“Dude, give me space will you?” You mutter and Sam apologizes, moving away and pointing the camera towards the other girls instead.

Colby worries his lip, chewing at the skin with a drive to settle his concern. You pat his shoulder, reassuring him that you’re fine.

The series of questions continue but still, your headache worsens and the air doesn’t feel any lighter.

“Did you follow us from somewhere else?” Sam questions. There’s a pregnant pause before the device begins going off. You make eye contact with Amanda as she steps forward to shut off the device.

“That’s enough,” she states firmly, eyeing the duo before requesting the cameras to be turned off. Sam agrees begrudgingly, moving to sit on the edge of the mattress along with Colby and Mackie. You and Amanda stand close, her hand wrapping around your wrist protectively.

“I don’t feel safe here anymore. I think we should take a break.” She says and Colby tilts his head, brows furrowed.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“There’s something here and I don’t want to talk about it.” Amanda huffs, looking towards the door. You distribute your weight from one foot to another anxiously.

“Maybe we could come back later? Let’s just take a breather outside—“

“Y/N, what’s on your arm?” Sam ponders and reaches to bring you closer to the flashlight.

You look down and notice a slew of thinly sourced abrasions on your forearm. “What the hell?”

“This isn’t right, we have to go.” Amanda urges, to which you all hurriedly concur, rushing for escape.

It’s when you’re one foot out of the door that you’re suddenly shoved and sent crashing into Colby’s back. Being the last one out, you physically startle and feel your hands beginning to tremble.

“I just—it just pushed me,” you stammer, eyes darting behind you to where the door to the room is shut. Amanda pulls you in close and recites a quick prayer before pulling you into her embrace.

After everything that had happened to you, Colby had had enough. His body began to boil with a protective instinct as he rushed back into the room, heart slamming against his chest.

“I dont care who you are or what you are, but you have no right to touch us. I didn’t give you permission and you sure as fucking hell don’t deserve it. You can’t follow us home and you better not follow us to any other location either.” He sneered, voicing his thoughts aloud to a visibly empty room.

“Colby,” Sam tries, placing a hand on his shoulder in attempt to pull him out, only to be shaken off and ignored when Colby continues.

“You could’ve touched me, hurt me, or whatever the fuck— but you touched Y/N and that’s where I draw the line. Get your disgusting ghoul fucking hands off of them and don’t ever touch them again.”

Staggering back with a winded breath, Colby returns to your side and holds you tightly between his arms. You reciprocate the action and try to smile, though it comes out as more of a lopsided grin.

“Thank you, colby.” You manage to utter from where he holds you against his chest. He sighs, clearly affected by your experience. You nudge him off gently before pulling him along with the rest of the group; moving to the entrance of the hotel without hesitation and making a beeline to the car.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you,” Colby murmurs once you’ve all packed into Sam’s rented vehicle. You and Colby sit thigh to thigh in the farthest pair of seats. “I promised I would.”

“Colby, it isn’t your fault. Amanda didn’t even know what it was, so seriously.. you couldn’t have known that was going to happen.” You ease his worry with a hand to his leg, rubbing miscellaneous shapes into the fabric of his jeans.

“I just wish it didn’t happen that way. I wanted this to be fun for you. And.. and I was hoping we could’ve had a small investigation together at some point in the night.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d guess this was Colby’s attempt at convincing you that he’s fine. However, you know him all too well to know that his facade is weakening with every thought that washes through him. The pout in his voice is nearly visible before you’re leaning in to place a kiss to his cheek. Pulling his gaze to you by gripping his chin gently, you smile at him.

The soft look he shares with you is enough for you to see just how much love he holds for you in the blue ocean of his eyes. Inviting yourself to dive into him, you lean your head against his shoulder and pull his arm closer.

“You don’t always have to be the hero, Colby. I know you love and care about me, but there’s always going to be things that you just can’t protect me from.” You say, and feel his weight drop to comfort. Smiling to yourself, you squeeze his hand.

“I love you, and thank you for bringing me along today. Despite it all, I enjoyed my time spent hunting ghosts.. just.. maybe next time we won’t visit a spirit who seems to have it out for girls who are taken, hm?”

At that, Colby chuckles. His fingers intertwine with yours impossibly tighter and he leans down to kiss the crown of your head.

“I love you too. And I promise I won’t put you in any more danger. No more mean grumpy ghosts. Maybe just the creepy kid ones.”

“Sick, no.” Sam calls from the front of the car, and you all laugh.

#colby brock fanfic #colby brock imagine #colby brock x reader #colby brock #colby brock blurb #colby brock x you #sam and colby

[tiredlilguy]

Hello Oda~ Hope you're doing well! This is like the first time I've requested something, so I hope I get it right. Can I request something Beast!Dazai x reader related?

Basically, a last dance with his S/O (his way of vaguely saying goodbye without letting the reader know too much about his plans). Make it as angsty as you'd like!

a/n: hihi! i hope you're doing well too >:D this is hella edgy, but im not going to lie, it gave me a lot of ideas for what to write. i had to put the draft aside for a little bit because i did just post angst a second ago. enjoy though! >:D i had fun with this prompt hehe

pairing: BEAST!Dazai Osamu X GN!Reader cw: [BSD BEAST SPOILERS!], sad :(, not proofread desc: dazai chose to dance with you. to you, just another dance. to him, his last.

Dazai Osamu didn’t do good things.

You understood that much…

Even if you didn’t work in the Mafia, you still felt as though there was a good in him. He was simply a man lost in his own eyes, yet at the same time that void shined when it faced you. It was if if his eye that was filled with darkness and nothing shown light the moment that they looked at you.

You first meeting him was a blur, it started with you just working at an old bar that was close to rusting. He seemed to appear out of nowhere, taking a seat with a smile and already asking for a glass of whiskey with a grin. It was odd… you were talking to a stranger and yet in the moment that you saw him, it almost felt as if you knew everything about him. Dazai was ready to be open to that too, offering to buy you a drink in exchange for a little bit of conversation.

Now you were no longer working at that bar. Ever since then, everything seemed to change: five star hotels, fancy restaurants, pretty silk outfits and clothes from luxury brands, fancy jewelry with twenty-four karat gold, and a penthouse that you weren’t expecting to find yourself sitting on the balcony of. Life seemed to be a red carpet walk for you, and all you had to do in return was give your heart to Dazai. Of course, you did with no hesitation. It seemed as though that first time yo’ve met, you’ve known each other for years.

He not only gave you gifts in forms of affection, but he too was also affectionate himself. Dazai often loved to spend time with you even if you two weren’t talking. Your presence was something that he enjoyed, even if you two didn’t have to say a single word or let out a sound. He kissed you gently, always making sure to pull you close by the hand before with a small smile. Dazai would whisper soft things into your ear as he held you tight, perhaps telling you something just to make you laugh… You felt as though you were on top of the world with him.

And yet…

You knew Dazai never did anything good.

After all, now he was the Port Mafia’s boss, the man who ruled authority with an iron fist and a cold face. Unfortunately with that… there were a lot of things he never told you. Dazai never took off his bandaged in front of you, never told you how work was really going, never explained why he was out so late or that he had arrived home in different clothes. You were left in the dark, and while that made you afraid and confused, you understood that it was for your safety. If you knew about what Dazai was doing, you’d be an easy target for ransom despite you being quite good at defending yourself. All he wanted to do was to protect you.

Yet…

…

…

…

You were called to meet your lover in an uncertain location. While the letter was reassuring for you not to worry, you car being late was already enough to make you anxious. Giving up on waiting after ten minutes, you ran off, searching for the location on your own. In some way you felt as though your legs would be faster than a flimsy car. The more steps you took, you felt your heart race more with anxiety.

Why did he call you here?

What does he need?

Are you going to be ok?

Eventually, your exhausted soles met the ground you were to meet him upon. An abandoned parking lot, not too far from just leaving the city. Yet at the same time, you were out of breathe, sweaty and an anxious mess. You ran up the multiple stairs, running to arrive at the floor that he’d requested. Once you were there, your feet started to slow down as you tried to catch your breathe. You didn’t understand how tired you really were until you arrived, the feeling underneath your feet only aching more and more as the cluster of feelings in your chest grew bigger.

There Dazai was, standing with his hands behind his back as he stared into the sunset. He turned around to you with a light smile, offering his hands.

“ There you are, little flower,” he sung softly, but loud enough for you to hear. You gently walked over to him, taking his hand. Before you knew it, he pulled your arm back, wrapping a hand around your waist with a smile as he made you come closer. Dazai closed his eyes as he started to step to the side, humming to himself gently. Once again, you were close enough to hear.

You looked up at him, accepting his implicit invitation to dance around, placing a hand on his shoulder and following his footsteps.

Despite the scene being rather calm, you felt a strange wave of anxiety in your chest, yet at the same time you wondered if it was just all the running. You watched and following in silence as Dazai seemed to be in his own world. This time… with his eyes closed. It was strange, if he had his eyes closed you could never understand what was on his mind… at least from a distance. He’d look at you with a soft gaze if his eyes were open, a small glimmer showing from them… He was hiding.

“ Osamu…,” you said in a hushed voice.

He seemed to still be in his own universe as he answered with a hum,” Yes, my love? Sorry that the car you were supposed to take didn’t get here on time. There was some… complications… on the way.”

“ Osamu could you just look at me for a secon- ah…!,” Dazai swiftly pulled you to switch sides, the trum in his voice getting a little bit louder.

“ Hm… I quite love the scenery that I’ve chosen. Don’t you…? You always enjoyed sunsets like this, no?,” Dazai stopped, looking over to the side, but he made sure that you weren’t able to see his eyes, his bandaged side hiding his true expression. He turned around once again and continued swaying you about as you couldn’t really think of any words to say back. You chose to stay silent, letting him enjoy his dance…

To you, a simple dance, one like many that he’d enjoyed with you.

To him, his last dance.

Dazai eventually stopped himself, separating from you before dipping you down. He’d finally opened his eyes… and this time all you could see was an empty void. One that didn’t seem to look back at you the way it used to.

“ Goodnight, my love,” he said gently,” I enjoyed this dance with you, but now it’s time for you to go.”

You raised a brow,” Good… night? I’ll see you tonight, ‘Samu. You’re acting really weird.”

“ Whatever do you mean,” You didn’t answer back, only shrugging your shoulders. Perhaps your thoughts were just betraying you, and so you let go of his hands with a smile.

“ I love you, Osamu,” you said, placing a soft kiss on his lips despite how strangely cold they felt.

“ Hm…,” he let out one warm smile,” I love you too.”

…

…

…

Dazai knew that this world could not move on without his disappearance. It was all too painful, this universe, yet at the same time, it was one where his dear friend, Oda was alive… One where Oda could write his novel in a peaceful life.

However he also knew… that he couldn’t give you everything. Leaving you confused in the dark was already enough… and so, by his plan, he left this world.

A bittersweet relief.

…

It was midnight. Dazai hadn’t returned to your door yet, but the person that did was a tall man with rust red hair. He was in a bow and held a bouquet of flowers in his hand and a blueish-green pendant.

“ I’m sorry for your loss.”

“ I… huh?”

“ He’s gone… Dazai that is…”

“ O-oh god…”

“ Take this… This is the least I can do.”

“ …”

#beast!dazai #beast!dazai x reader #beast!dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #dazai bsd #dazai osamu bsd #bsd dazai #bsd dazai osamu #dazai #dazai osamu #osamu dazai #this is too many tags im sorry #osamu dazai x reader #mono writes

[fairysluna]

Can you write smut prompt 21 with Jace please, it can be modern or not…thank you ❤️ with a hint of fluffs

i got a bit inspired with this one, it has 1k words, bc ngl i kinda love this trope w jace. Hope you like it, love!!🤍

TAGS - smut (+18 mdni), friends to friends w benefits, modern!jace

"Oh, fuck- baby, come here."

You felt him grabbing your cheeks and forcing you to stand up at the same time you used the back of your hand to clean the drool that had fallen down your chin, even reaching your neck. Jace brushed his thumb against your swollen lips and he bit his own at the sight of your soaked cheeks – caused by the tears. His dark, brown eyes were roaming down your face, you were able to find signs of sparkling illusion in them as they shined under the dim light of the room. He let out a small chuckle, almost as if he was still in disbelief. Suddenly, the way he was looking at you made you feel somehow exposed to him, like he was able to see through your eyes and into your thoughts; but it did not bother you at all.

His eyes scanned your body until they reached your breasts; your dress had been pulled down enough to set them free, and the traces of his saliva were still making your nipples glisten. His mouth waters once again, the urge to taste you succumbs his senses as he almost let out a soft hum of delight at the godly sight of you. He wanted to take his time to get to know your body; to tease your soft skin until it bristles under his touch, to let his lips and tongue taste the whole of you until the only word you would remember was his name, he wanted you to provide you with the pleasure you deserved… but time was not in your favor in that moment, and if he wanted to do something, he had to be quick. Soon they would start wondering where the hell you both were.

He kissed you, and it took you by surprise. Your mouth opens, giving him the permission to let his tongue wander around your mouth. The taste of liquor was present in both of you; those five shots of tequila had given you the courage to do what you were waiting to do for years. It gave Jace the courage to pull your dress up and move your panties to the side, exposing your swollen pearl that was already aching with the lack of attention. He grabbed his length, rubbing the tip against it, stealing a gasp from you that was silenced by his wet and desperate kisses. He hummed, feeling your arousal covering him as he let himself tease your folds slowly, in an almost torturing way.

Your back fell against the wall behind you, one of your legs being wrapped around his hip as the other was barely keeping you standing. A subtle movement of your hips was all he needed to know how needy you were for him, and he listened. Soon, he found his way inside of you, sinking in your tightness while spreading you open with a delicious stretch that made you whine out of pleasure. Jace hissed while he was slowly filling your dripping entrance, panting already as he never thought you would feel this good. His thousand dreams about you never prepare him for this.

Once you felt his pelvis pressing against your pearl, he gave you a minute to adjust to his size, though a few seconds were all you needed before you were greedily trying to move your hips to create the friction your body desperately wanted. You heard a raspy, breathy laugh which sent shivers down your spine, and in a matter of seconds he was pounding against your heated core, making you a moaning mess in such little time. It was embarrassing how easily you started to whine, but his thrusts, hard and deep, were making it impossible for you to hold your cries back.

His hands were grabbing your arse to keep you steady and control your movements, and his. You were able to hear his soft whimpers mixing with the muffled music in the background, and they did nothing but to increase the arousal between your thighs.

There was a point where Jace was unable to control himself anymore, and his movements became rougher, faster – almost animalistic. Your hands were pulling his thick, brown curls as your eyes were rolling to the back of your head and he was leaving dark marks in your soft skin. The sound of your bodies slapping with each other was all you could hear; an obscene sound that echoed in the small room and was blended with the soft pleas that were unconsciously escaping from your lips. "Please… please," you would murmur, hiccuping with each thrust, "fuck, baby, I'm so- oh, fuck… I'm so fucking close, please…"

Those small whines seemed to have caused something inside of Jace, for his cheeks flustered –probably at the pet name–, and his eyes darkened. You saw drops of sweat falling down his forehead; his free hand took the hem of his shirt to his mouth, where he held it between his teeth, giving you the perfect view of his abdomen contracting each time he would bury himself in you. It was too much for you; the sweet stretch his thickness would make you feel, how his pelvis rubbed against your pearl, the way he looked and the way he sounded.

The orgasm made you see stars behind your heavy eyelids. Your hips shaking as your legs trembled and your release gushed out of you. You let out a loud gasp, followed by cries and a notorious panting. Jace followed you, emptying himself and filling you up with his load. Three more thrusts was all he needed to feel spent and tired, and he let his face hide in your neck as he tried to regain the air he had lost.

You did the same, taking deep breaths and holding him tight as his fingertips were caressing the skin of your thighs.

"Does doing these kind of things make us friends with benefits?" Jace asked out of the blue, making you laugh a bit too loud.

"I thought I was your best friend," you clarified, using a teasing tone. Jace left the spot in the crook of your neck and smiled at you before kissing you, this time more softly.

"You are my best friend…" he said between kisses, "my best friend with benefits, now I guess."

"Thank you for the promotion," you joked, and he brushes the tip of his nose with you.

He could not hold back the bright smile that appeared in his handsome, flushed face.

"Anytime."

BOLD MEANS I COULDN’T TAG YOU

GENERAL TAG LIST — @borikenlove @aemondsversion @jvpit3rs @watercolorsky @kravitzwhore @valeskafics @clairacassidy @aemondx @randomdragonfires @theminesofmoria @gothtargaryen @melsunshine @urmomsgirlfriend1 @jamespotterismydaddy @padfooteyes

JACE TAG LIST — @ganymede-princess

#jacaerys x reader #jacaerys x you #jacaerys fic #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys smut #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys velaryon x y/n #house of the dragon #hotd smut #hotd au #hotd x reader #hotd #hotd fanfic #modern hotd #hotd x y/n #hotd x you

[multi-fan-dom-madness]

Title Prompt: I'll drop a few below and you can choose whichever gives you inspiration. And I'll let you choose SFW or NSFW, whichever suits your fancy.

- Intergalactic Tango

- Up All Night, Neon Lights

- 79s: Crash & Dash

Feel free to adjust the title to fit whatever inspiration you get. Have fun! 😘

Up All Night, Neon Lights

Summary: A night out with your friend leads to a daring rooftop fling.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Fives x reader, gn!reader so can be read as M/M or M/F, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it folks), marking, creampie, exhibitionism, writer got caught up in the 'neon lights' part of the title prompt my bad, uhh I think that's everything?

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: I had so much fun with this!! This is my first time writing Fives so I hope I did him justice. Thanks for the prompt, @523rdrebel <3

You have no idea what’s gotten into you tonight.

But you don’t really care. 

Giddy laughter bubbling up in your chest, you stumble as the trooper tugs you along by hand. He throws you a charming smirk over his shoulder. Cold rain pelts down on the two of you as you sprint through puddled Coruscanti streets, plastering your clothing to your body, seeping into your bones. Despite that, and despite the odd looks thrown your way as you push past pedestrians who were sensible and brought raincoats and umbrellas with them, all you want to do is stop and turn your face skyward, catch the rain in your mouth, bathe in the distorted neon reflections. 

Because tonight has been nothing but neon. First the bar that your roommate had dragged you to, the giant LED screen emblazoned with a technicolor 79s, the inside as richly lit with oranges and pinks and whites; then the second bar you hopped to, a small company of clone troopers following like groupies, illuminated by vivid reds and blues; and now, sprinting through this side-street marketplace, aqua and magenta lights dazzle your eyes. You feel just as multicolored on the inside, a riot of sensations and emotions and needs. 

“C’mon, mesh’la,” the trooper says with a deep chuckle. “Let’s get you out of the rain.” 

“But Fiiiiives,” you whine, just the slightest bit tipsy, pouting your bottom lip in a way you hope makes you look cute and not like a mess, “I like the rain.” 

He glances back to you, the neon shining in his dark eyes, black curls slick with rainwater. A devilish grin tugs at his lips—lips you’ve been trying not to stare at all night, trying not to imagine what they feel like against yours, on your skin, between your legs. The look he gives you is inscrutable, a mask of bravado and sex, one that you’re desperate to rip off and see what he’s hiding underneath.

Yeah. You really don’t know what’s gotten into you. 

When your roommate convinced you to go clubbing with her tonight, you’d been a little skeptical. Bars are most decidedly not your scene. But she had come prepared with receipts: the immense amount of stress you’ve been under at work, even in a low-level senators’ office; the messy breakup you survived just a few months ago; and the fact that you promised her a night out. With all the evidence stacked against you, there really hadn’t been any other answer but, “Where are we going?” 

And when you’d arrived at 79s, hours ago now, you’d been a little overwhelmed by the abundance of clone troopers in attendance. Sure, you’ve interacted with a few clones just by virtue of your job. But in those instances, they always had their helmets on, and you most certainly tried to avoid attracting attention in your day-to-day life. The goal, your friend assured you, was to attract as much attention as possible. She’d styled your face and clothing in a way that drew the eye exactly where she—and you, you supposed—wanted people to look.

It had worked. You hadn’t paid for a single drink all night, not that you had many. Multiple troopers took their shot, but really, it was the cocky, self-assured one with a ‘5’ tattoo and goatee that caught your eye. The one whose half-smirk over the rim of his glass promised no-strings fun, if that’s what you wanted. He’d drawn you in with those dark, shining eyes, and now, gazing into them with rain pouring into yours, you swallow against the rush of arousal that surges within you.

The rain subsides; for a moment you think the storm has passed. Looking up, you realize you’ve moved under an awning, the corrugated metal drumming loudly in the downpour. Panting, you squeeze Fives’s hand as you slow to a walk, and finally to a halt, to catch your breath. 

You give him a breathless smile. His teeth flash in the technicolor lights as he smiles in return, pushing his curls off of his forehead. Your heart skips at the sight, like a lovesick teenager. Biting your lip, you shuffle your feet, butterflies beating their wings against your insides.

“Kriff, mesh’la,” Fives chuckles. “You’re dangerous, you know that?” 

Blinking in surprise, you quirk an eyebrow. “Is that so?” 

He nods, sliding an arm around your shoulders. “Fun, charming, attractive. I like that.” 

“Good,” you hum. His body heat is a welcome respite from the clinging cold, and you boldly snake your arm around his waist and pull him closer. “But I think all of those words describe you better.” 

He tips your face up with one gloved finger under your chin. You gasp at how close he is, his face inches from yours—and this close, you think you can see past the cocky mask he wears, glimpse the man beneath, the one who dreams and wants and needs and cries and loves. Gulping, you can’t help the way your eyes flick down to his lips. 

You know he noticed, his mouth pressing into a small smile.

“I know they say opposites attract, but...” He trails off. His dark eyes study your face, tracing every feature, before settling on your mouth. “Well, personally I’ve always preferred someone like me.” 

“And what are you like, Fives?” you breathe, tilting your head, drawing closer to him. 

He grips your chin between thumb and forefinger, nostrils flaring as he takes a breath. “Insatiable.” 

A noise escapes you, somewhere between a moan and a gasp. He leans down, eyes never leaving yours until your noses bump. He holds there, his breath fanning your face—giving you a chance to pull away if you want. 

You don’t. Tightening your grip around his waist, you slot your lips against his, eyes sliding shut with a proper moan. His hand cups your face, holding you against him. You lick his bottom lip and nudge his mouth open. Droplets of water kiss over your skin as you nearly devour one another, tongues meeting hot and wet. Stabilizing yourself on his chest with one hand, your knees quake at the vibrations of his growl against your palm. 

When he breaks the kiss, he pants, resting his forehead against yours, a surprisingly bashful smile gracing his features. “That was...wow.” 

You can’t even form words, simply giggling in agreement. He looks gorgeous like this, a blush high on his cheeks and wet skin shimmering in the light of neon. Your hand wanders from his chest up, up, up into his hair, still soaked and dripping, your nails lightly scratching over his scalp. With a shudder, his eyes screw shut. 

“You wanna get outta here?” 

“And go where?” You swallow, trying to think through the haze his kiss brought on. “I’m not even sure where ‘here’ is.” 

He chuckles. “Well, the barracks are too far, and I’d bet my entire pension that your friend has one of my brothers back at your apartment.”

“I thought clones don’t get pensions?” 

There’s that smirk again, the one that makes you feel like only you and him are privy to an inside joke. “Exactly.” 

You snort in what you’re sure is a very unattractive manner, but Fives’s smirk broadens to a genuine smile. His thumb rubs circles on your back. 

“My question still stands, then,” you say. 

He hums, the sound rumbling pleasantly under your palm, sending tingles up your arm. “I have an idea. Can I show you something?” 

The way he asks it, like he’s asking permission for something beyond kissing you again or even fucking you, makes your stomach flip. “Of course.”

That roguish glint in his eyes once again, he removes himself from your embrace and, taking your hand, steps back into the rain. You gasp at the shock, the water feeling even colder against your heated skin. You follow him wordlessly as he wends his way around midnight market-goers, tramps through puddles, and finally pushes open a creaky door at the base of a skyscraper. 

“We can take the lift,” he says, “but we have to climb a few floors first.”

So, a few flights of stairs later, you stand winded in a lift, soft music chiming from hidden speakers. As soon as the doors slide shut, you lock eyes with Fives, fluttering your eyelashes at him. 

“Are you gonna kiss me or what, trooper?” you ask, voice pitched low. 

He closes the distance in two long strides. Back pressed flush to the lift wall, you gasp as he braces one arm above your head, his other hand hiking your leg up over his hip. “Thought you’d never ask.” 

His mouth is on yours before you can even think of a response, wiping all thought from your mind. You grind your heated core against him. When he licks into your mouth, you whimper, core throbbing with desire. Your hands can’t find a spot to rest, gripping his biceps, squeezing his ass, tugging his hair, cupping his half-hard dick. He bucks against your hand, groaning into your mouth. 

Neither of you break apart when the lift dings and the doors slide open. Only the sound of someone clearing their throat, obviously annoyed, jolts you out of the lustful daze you’ve sunk into. Face growing hot, you lower your leg back to the ground and keep your eyes down as the other person steps into the lift. Fives shoots you a smug wink; you cough to cover the giggles that rise up and try to escape.

The rest of the ride to the top floor is silent and awkward, but Fives’s finger tracing mindless patterns on the back of your hand makes it hard to care. As soon as the doors open again, you’re pulling him out of the lift and into the hallway. 

You’re both laughing before the lift even closes again. Doubled over, buzzing with embarrassment and desire, you slump against the nearby wall until the fit passes. Fives wipes tears from his eyes. 

“Did you see their face?” he asks.

“No,” you groan, burying your own into your hands. “I only saw their shoes.” 

He guffaws. “I get the feeling this isn’t the first time they’ve witnessed, ah, certain activities in their building.” 

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” you say. “But enough about them. What is it you wanted to show me?”

Eyes twinkling with mischief, Fives gestures down the hall to the door labeled ‘ROOF ACCESS.’ With a grin, you dart to the door and shove it open. You take the stairs two at a time and emerge, breathless, to a rain-slicked rooftop.

You move to the edge without thinking. Leaning your forearms on the permacrete wall that lines the edge, you crane your head over to look down. The vertical drop to the streets below makes your head swim, but you find you like the sensation, falling without moving. The rain has begun to lighten up, coming in a drizzle now. From this height, the glow of neon lights melds into a smooth gradient, like someone took a giant brush and blended the colors together. Lights flash and strobe and glitter as far as you can see, stretching to the horizon. 

Fives wraps his arms around you from behind. His warmth is welcome, and you lean back against him. 

“It’s gorgeous up here,” you say. “Thank you.” 

He hums. “Not as gorgeous as you, mesh’la.” 

You laugh, squeezing his hands where they rest over your waist. “Please. Look at all that.” 

“I am,” he says. “I see it. And I see you.” 

Breath hitching, you turn around in his grasp until your back presses against the low wall. Peering up into his dark eyes, you catch another glimpse of the softness he’s hiding, and it makes you melt. You caress his face, relishing in the way he leans into your touch, his eyes shut, brow smooth and unworried. 

“Fuck me,” you say, bolder than you expected of yourself. 

His eyes fly open. “Here?”

“Why not?” 

His chest heaves with sudden excitement, and against your thigh, his cock stiffens again. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” 

He helps you shuck your clothing until you’re both completely naked under the clouds. The distant lights glisten on his damp skin. You rest your palm over the handprint tattoo on his pec, and he shudders. His eyes rake over your body, drinking you in, as you do the same to him. Water collecting in droplets on his skin, you trail your eyes over his toned abs, powerful thighs, veiny forearms, and heavy cock. You lick your lips in anticipation. 

His hand is scorching against your skin where he thumbs over your hip, pulling you closer. Bodies slotting together like two halves of a whole, you sigh in contentment. Slinging your arms loosely around his neck, you press your chest to his, your stiff nipples sensitive where they graze his skin. 

“Fives,” you plead. You don’t even know what you need, but you need him, need him to do something, give you his cock, give you his kisses.

“I’ve got you.” With a half smirk, he caresses your aching core, fingers nimble and firm against you. 

You keen brokenly, emboldened by your distance from the ground, letting your pleasure take control. Fives drops his head against your shoulder, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your neck, as he works you up to the edge of bliss. Blindly, you reach for his hard length. You are rewarded with a deep groan as your fingers find purchase, wrapping around his velvety skin and pumping him slowly. 

“Fuck, mesh’la,” he whimpers. “Gonna make you feel so good.” 

“Yes,” you gasp. “Please, Fives, please.”

He bites down at the juncture between your neck and shoulder, sucking a mark into your skin as you writhe against him. Pleasure cresting within you, a thin wire pulling taut and molten in your belly, you moan to the sky. 

“Gonna- please, Fives—” 

His hand withdraws and he chuckles as you whimper at the loss. “Not yet,” he croons. “Need you to cum on my cock.” 

“Fuck, yes.” You hitch your leg around his waist again, presenting your neglected entrance for him. He prods against you, his tip flushed and leaking. Desperate, you spit into your free hand and coat his length with it, eyes locked on his. 

“Just like this,” he murmurs, and then he’s pushing into you, splitting you open at the seams and sewing you back together. Your head falls back, nails digging against his back. Your body tenses at the intrusion, but you love it, love the burn of the stretch, love the way that he fills you so completely, love the way his hand feels plays at your core as he gently rocks his hips up against your ass. 

“Kriff, mesh’la.” He presses his forehead against your chest, gripping your ass so tight you know you’ll have bruises that match his fingerprints. “So tight, so needy.” 

Shifting in his grasp, careful to not let his cock slip out, you prop yourself on the wall with your elbows, your upper half dangerously close to hanging over the edge. The danger makes your chest heave with excitement; the safety of Fives’s arms makes your core clench with need. His eyes find yours again, and he looks absolutely debauched. 

You tilt your head and catch his bottom lip between your teeth. His groan vibrates into your bones, slowly pulling that wire inside you tighter again. 

“Please fuck me, Fives,” you moan. “Please, need you to fucking ruin me.” 

Hips snapping against yours, he fucks you into oblivion, cock dragging against that shattering shard of heaven deep inside you. You cling to him, blinking away the rain, and scream your pleasure. The harder he fucks into you, the more your vision goes fuzzy, bursts of aqua and magenta and white neon blinding you to everything except Fives. His name becomes a chant, a prayer, tumbling from your lips in reverence. 

“Gonna cum,” you whine.

“Where should I—?” 

“Inside,” you cut him off. “Please. Need to feel your cum in me.” 

He bites you again, the pain blending with the pleasure so intensely that it shoves you over the edge of orgasm. Your entire body locks up as the cord inside you breaks. Molten, white-hot pleasure pulses through you, and you nearly black out, your release coating you both. 

Only Fives’s strong arms around you keep you upright as he ruts into you, chasing his own release. “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck—” He stills, shuddering, panting into your neck as his cock throbs in your tight heat, warmth blooming from the inside. 

“Yes.” You card your fingers through his hair. “Thank you.”

He chuckles, breathless, his eyes glazed as they meet yours. “I should be thanking you.” 

You grin, kissing him. “I can think of a few ways for you to do that.” 

“At least let me buy you dinner first.” 

You laugh morphs into a whine as he slips out of you, his cum dribbling down your inner thigh. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Taglist: @thorsterstrudle @anxiouspineapple99 @deejadabbles @starrylothcat @blueink-bluesoul @idontgetanysleep @wolffegirlsunite @wings-and-beskar @mandos-mind-trick @moonlightwarriorqueen @sunshinesdaydream @starqueensthings @littlemissmanga if I missed anyone pls lmk!

#fives x reader #arc fives x reader #arc trooper fives x reader #the clone wars reader insert #rhiwrites #up all night neon lights #requested content #rhiplies

[novaonhere]

A Future, A Home

Relationship: Cal Kestis x f!reader

Summary: You, Cal, and the crew on the Mantis are about to leave Jedah to go to Koboh after figuring out about the last intact compass. Cere asks you to stay and help with the archives. You both wake up and have a rough time leaving each other.

Word Count: 870

Warnings: Cal leaving again 😭 how dare, cute BD alarm clock

A/N: I can’t get over all the custom features Survivor offers like omggggggg the stubble???

Prompt: “You’ll stay, this time, right? You won’t go off again. You won’t disappear.”

(gif not mine)

————————————————————————

The small window in the corner of the room shines just enough light on your eyes. You slowly blink, groggy from starting to wake up. The room is cool, unlike the vast landscape outside. The dark orange-brown rock around you creates a pleasant cave sensation, protecting you from the outside world. A pair of freckles hands wrap around your waist, pulling you in. You smile softly, knowing your partner is still fast asleep, in his own little world.

You don’t mind, actually, you’re more than happy he is sleeping so soundly. You know for a fact his bed on the Mantis is rock hard and he can barley sleep anyway with so much turbulence and rocking about. With the “go-go-go” mentality, he can never bring himself to even sit down at times. The fact that he asked you to bed first was shocking, but you were extremely glad to show him to your room, where he instantly laid down on the fluffy sheets and knocked out.

The memory made you smile. While you’ve been on Jedah with Cere and Merrin, you’ve just now learned what Cal has been up to the past few months. You take your hand and stroke his arm, tracing each freckle like a game of connect the dots.

Missing him would be an understatement. In this world, your kind were being hunted constantly. Jedis needed to be eliminated, according to the Empire. You’ve spent your lives running, fighting, looking past your shoulders. To experience pure bliss and safety in each others arms was a luxury, a luxury you never wanted to let go of.

Cal shifted in his sleep, gripping onto you tighter. You chuckled, letting your eyes slowly blink back to rest.

BD-1 chirps at the door, acting as your own personal alarm clock. Sighing, you slink out of your boyfriend’s embrace, who grumbles in protest. You open the door a crack, crouching down to the adorable droid, cocking his head up at you.

“Good morning, buddy.” You smile, the droid bouncing with joy. “We’ll be out in a few, I’ll send Cal to the Mantis straight away. Meet him there?” With that, BD-1 scampers away.

“Five more minutes,” Cal complains, Force grabbing your pillow and sending it your way. On instinct, you catch the pillow, a sad smile on your face as you close the door.

You slowly make your way towards the bed, sitting down besides his curled up frame. He looks peaceful, being able to not worry and rest. You know once he wakes up fully, the worry and anxiety of the day will come crashing. His hand reaches out to yours, interlocking your fingers together as he straightens up.

“Good morning,” You smile. Cal reciprocates, bringing your hands up to his lips, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles.

“You looked so peaceful,” He smile, brushing a strand of red hair away from his eyes. “I wish you could…” You trail off as he starts to shift, moving his legs off the bed. You stand, making room for him to get up. He sits next to you, placing a kiss to your temple. You faintly smile, worry still painted on your face.

“After all of this…” You start.

“We’ll have Tanalorr, (Y/N). A place where we can sleep next to one another every night.” He states, sounding leveled headed and very much like he rehearsed that statement. You nod, watching him slip on his everyday clothes, freshly washed thanks to the kind droids helping out with the Hidden Path.

“But you’ve never known that. Who says you’ll stay? You’ll stay, this time, right? You won’t go off again. You won’t disappear, right?” Your worries and doubts melt from your mouth. You were ready to settle and help out with those you can. After traveling with Cal and the Mantis for years, it became too much. Cere asked for you to aid her in helping with the Hidden Path, which was definitely more your style.

“(Y/N)…” Cal breathes out, slipping his saber to his side. He turns around, facing your concerned face. “This is it. My last fight for now. Of course we will help those and train those who want to go back out and fight. But my job will to be protect and teach.” He walks up to you, taking your hands into his freckled ones. He places a sweet, gentle kiss to your cheek. “We’re so close, and I’ll come back to you. Every time.”

“A Future.” You smile.

“A Home.” He grins.

You look up into his eyes, shinning, knowing his said his truth. You smile, pecking him on the lips. He reaches his hand behind your head, pulling you back in for a longer, much needed, kiss. You grasp onto his collar, wanting to hold yourself there for as long as possible. Unfortunately, he just had to pull away, giving you a goofy smile.

“Go kick ass, Cal Kestis.” You smile, letting go of his hands. He chuckles, making his way towards the door.

“Anything to come back to you.” He responds, smiling over his shoulder. With that, he leaves you in your room. The sun coming from that small window now blinds you.

#cal kestis x reader #cal kestis x y/n #cal kestis x you #cal kestis #cal kestis jedi survivor #jedi survivor #star wars #star wars x y/n #star wars x you #star wars x reader #star wars jedi fallen order #star wars jedi survivor #reader insert #y/n

[nuatthebeach]

prompt: "come back to my side."

link to ao3 above part 4 of "come let's walk for miles" can be read separately happy new year's!

Harry tucks the flaps of his coat around his chest tightly, wishing the bone-chilling cold was due to the frost crystallizing the willow trees and not a different ache entirely. Shaking his head, he balances the fruitcake in his hands before taking in the melancholy around him. Once leaves of glittering gold leave lonely branches in their wake.

Every Christmas, down by the park, he thinks of her. He can't help it; she's everywhere.

He watches a child pelt a snowball in the direction of a friend, and she's there with him, sneaking up from behind, yanking his hood down to shove the iciest of chunks down his back. Laughing as he yelps. Shrieking as he chases her with a snowball twice the size of hers.

He watches a teenager pull a dress from a gift bag, and she's next to him again, hissing at him to quiet down, you ponce. Smacking him when her mum's yells echo outside the Burrow to come back this instant and apologize to Aunt Muriel for ditching the pageant and taking off with him instead. Switching her heels to sneakers. Lifting her dress to match his running speed. Smirking in restaurants over cheap burgers and nosy bystanders judging their audacity.

He watches an older couple hold hands while their kids play football, and she's right there again, pulling him under the bleachers, the rush from winning the game still buzzing in his veins. Cupping his jaw and lighting his insides on fire with her searing kiss. Fluttering her eyelashes and waiting for his reaction. Sighing contentedly when he drags her body against his, sunshine tingling their flushed skin.

He watches the reflection of the moon against the lake, and she's next to him once more, eyes shining with tears under the starlit sky. Shaking her head, chin wobbling as he asks her one last time to stay. Whispering you know I can't, and truthfully, he does. But when they kiss again, he recalls all the ways he's been hurt in the past—before he knew what real pain felt like.

A camera flash lights up his vision; he turns his attention to its harsh reality.

This time, he watches a family say cheese, and she's not there with him, not there to hold him in the quiet of the night. And now it's him listening to her on the news, stunned—but not surprised—by the way she blazes through the great fame of the football world. Buying magazines that praise her influence in the sports industry. Mind drifting when he sees a little girl wearing a kit with her name on it.

Hollowing when she never returns home for the holidays. Numbing when he grows used to it.

In the dark of that Christmas night, he sinks it all in—for the last time.

Tonight, he will lay his flickering hopes to rest. It's been five years too long. She won't come back.

Stepping onto the final landing of the Burrow, Harry adjusts the fruitcake and knocks on the door. He forces a grin as it swings open.

But the shine of his best mate's blue eyes is different from the cheer Harry's accustomed to from the Weasleys. Surprised the cake made it intact, eh? the words lying dead on his tongue…for Ron steps aside and clears the path for Harry, and his heart—his treacherous heart—absolutely stops, and it's all it can take for him to breathe, all the atoms of the air no longer existing in this very moment… Because, God, it's her, it's really—

"Ginny."

The Christmas lights in the park, the glistening snow, the shining moon, they were never really there, were they, ever since she left.

"Hi," she whispers, voice cracking.

They can heal each other again, one fragile piece at a time.

He swallows and says, "Welcome home."

#hinny au #harry x ginny #hinny fic rec #happy new year's! #dorothea by ts

[finniestoncrane]

Switch

Arkham!Two Face x Female!Insert, word count: 4k commission: harvey x oc (changed to just a female insert character here) have a lilttle bit of switch fun 💙 commission me here! request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: flirting, teasing, teensy bit of misogynistic language, sub/dom/switch dynamics, orgasm denial kinda

Another rainy night in Gotham, and another ridiculous hour to be outside in that weather. But she didn’t mind. She was used to being cold. She preferred it. And she was excited enough about her evening plans that she would have walked in the rain for hours to get to where she was going. Luckily though, Gotham’s nightlife was always thriving, despite the threat of villainy and criminals around every corner, even in the broad day light let alone the dark of the very late evening. Which meant that there were plenty of cabs driving on the roads, and she was quick to hail one over to her, telling him her destination. He blinked three times before unlocking the door. Everyone knew the address. It was Harvey’s place. Two Face’s domain.

She wondered if the cab driver had briefly considered warning her, playing the knight in shining armour. At least, had he thought of that before he took a long hard look at her, her neutral, if not slightly mischievous expression and her outfit, which screamed “typical Gotham criminal” and decided against it.

In the back of the cab, she finished the last of her business on her phone, final emails of the night before she switched it off and focused on herself for a while. It was rough business, constantly fighting to remain afloat, scrambling to get near the top. The planning, the organisation, the constant communications. If someone had told her villainy was this difficult, well, she would have still been drawn to it. But she might have considered a degree in administration or business management.

But there were always moments of reprieve. Times she could set aside to relax, when she needed it more than anything else. And as always, ever ready to satisfy that urge though he pretended it was begrudgingly, was Harvey.

Good old Dent would never let her down. Despite his efforts to convince her that he hated receiving her last minute demands for some time alone with him, he was yet to say no to her inviting herself into his home for their sordid little meetings. He liked to convince himself that he had the upper-hand in their relationship, but they both knew better. She had him wrapped around her finger, and she knew how to make the most of that.

As though on cue, her phone pinged, right as she made the move to turn it off. A text from Harvey himself.

“Listen, if you’re not here in the next five minutes, I’m locking the door.”

Rolling her eyes, she typed a reply back.

“Oh yeah? In that case I’ll be fifteen minutes, and we’ll see if big bad Dent can stick to his word, huh?”

Turning the phone off, happy to ignore his response in favour of winding him up further, she sat back against the seat in the darkened cab, watching the ever-present rain drip down the window. Sighing, she admitted to herself that she was looking forward to this as much as she knew Harvey was. There was an undeniable connection between them. Not love, more lust. It was as if he knew her, and that knowledge served her well. He could relieve her tensions, that was for damn sure.

But she didn’t want to get too deep. It was better that their relationship, if they could call it that, remained superficial. Surface level. It was hotter that way. There was a danger to it. She couldn’t really bring herself to admit it out loud, but thinking about it, there was something deeply arousing about the idea that while he was willing to tend to her every need in the bedroom, Harvey was capable of switching moods as quickly as he switched personalities. Where was the fun if your potential sexual encounter wasn’t likely to murder you as equally as they were likely to grab you and kiss you.

She knocked on the large, heavy front door and waited. The panel slid to the side and she looked in, making unamused eye contact with one of Harvey’s goons who closed it, the sounds o f several locks being opened before the door itself was finally ajar. Stepping into the warmth, she offered a polite smile to the three men who stood, armed to the teeth, in the hall of Harvey’s mansion. She made a conscious effort each time to only walk on the neat side, keeping her shoes clean from the dirt and grime on the other. By the time she had made it to his lounge, he was there at the door to greet her.

“You made it.”

“Of course.”

“You stopped answering my calls.”

“Yes.”

He looked at her, straight into her eyes, his brow furrowed in irritation.

“Why?”

“Harvey, I have limited time and limited patience. Do you want to question me or do you want to make a start on what we had planned for this evening?”

Deciding it was easier to give in than to argue, and desperate to be allowed to put his plans into motion, he growled and turned, heading into the lounge and holding the door open behind him for her.

She took a seat on the throne in the room, watching as Harvey stood by the liquor cabinet, pouring two glasses out for himself, and another two for her.

“Old habits die hard, huh?”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he swallowed down one glass, then another, and brought one over to her where she sat. Standing still, he watched her sip, blushing when she realised he was staring.

“Penny for your thoughts, Harv? Or a silver dollar, anyway?”

He smiled, an incredulous scoff with notes of unamused sarcasm echoing in the room before he spoke.

“I was actually thinking… you look pretty good up there.”

“Better than you do anyway.”

She smirked, teasing him. And though he scowled, she knew he liked it. Taking her by surprise, Harvey leaned in, taking her chin in his hand and kissing her. It was deep, surprisingly warm. Tender, too. Different from the way he usually felt, there was something to it, something new, but still familiar. His lips, the good side, were firm on her. But the weaker side of his face added the attributes she longed for. Messy, sloppy. It felt carefree, careless when he kissed her, his drool falling from the corner of his mouth, coating her as he moaned. His tongue, running along hers as the vibrations tingled through her throat. But as quickly as he started, he pulled back, awkwardly scratching at his neck. Clearly not his usual self, he shuffled from foot to foot, staring at the ground as he found the confidence to speak.

“So… Did you have time to consider my proposition on your journey over here?”

“I did, and I refuse to just automatically let you take charge, Dent. I don’t know why you would think otherwise.”

He sighed, reaching into his pocket and producing his coin.

“Ok then. Standard rules apply. I’ll flip, we’ll see who gets to go first.”

“Oh, the suspense is killing me.”

She rolled her eyes, a slight smile crossing her lips as she watched Harvey’s coin spin in the air on it’s way up and back down. He caught it perfectly in his palm, slapped it onto the back of his other hand, and revealed it.

“Ha! Ok, Harvey. Let’s get you trussed up like the good little slut you are.”

With a groan, he tossed his head back and began to shuffle behind her as she led him to his throne in the middle of the room.

“Sit down, big boy. Let’s get going, I think we’ve wasted enough time.”

Surprisingly obedient, Harvey took his seat on his ridiculously opulent throne as she stood up and looked straight into her eyes as she opened her purse up, producing several strands of deep red silk.

“You planned ahead.”

“You didn’t?”

He sneered at her, but the soft, red glow on his cheeks betrayed his confident and callous exterior. This was getting to him, it was pleasurable. And she could keep it up all night if she had to. The playful back and forth, the never-ending disagreements. It was the backbone of their ‘relationship’ and it fed them both what they needed and more. Chaos, an escape route if things got too emotional, toeing the fine line between lust and hate.

Harvey sighed at the result of the coin as he faced his throne, pulling his shirt out from his pants and lifting it up over his taut abdomen, revealing his muscles, scarred on one side, smooth on the other. Turning, he caught her eye and smirked a little, pleased that his body could still draw her attention that way after however many times she had seen it before. Sitting in his chair, finally, he slid his pants and underwear off, his cock, soft still, resting between his open thighs, completely on display for her, which she appreciated sincerely.

Taking the silk, she tied his ankles to the legs of his throne first, noting to herself that he put up no fight, happy to submit it seemed, despite his insistence that he was always the dominant one in any scenario. She moved to his arms next, bringing the silk around his muscular forearms and sliding it down, pulling the ends to bring his arms tightly together.

With his hands tied together at the wrists, she raised them above his head, using another length to keep them up by connecting them to the back of the throne. She let her eyes wander down his body, shirtless and exposed, his cock beginning to stiffen, twitching at the sensations of her touch and the silk on his skin. The longer she looked at it, licking her lips without even realising, the harder he seemed to be getting. Snapping out of the trance, she returned to her usual witty self and smiled warmly, but mischievously.

“Already, Harv? I’m just tying you up. You really like being subby for me, huh?”

“I really don’t. I just know what’s coming. If I grit my teeth and take it then I get my just rewards.”

“Who said anything about a reward?”

He narrowed his eyes as he waited for her to explain, already concerned about what she could be suggesting.

“Would an orgasm be the reward you expected, Harv?”

“I would have assumed so, yeah.”

“Well… it’s too bad that bad boys who are all trussed up like little sluts don’t get to cum.”

She sank to the floor, kneeling in front of him, dragging her soft hands up his thighs. Her fingers reached the top, close to the base of his cock, skirting around it, briefly grazing it on either side, before she pulled them away. Harvey threw his head back in desperate irritation.

“If you can behave, Harvey, I’ll consider letting you cum. But you have to be very, very obedient. Can you do that?”

“I’m sure I can handle it.”

He rolled his eyes, but he felt a pang of nerves rising in his chest. The only reason he’d called her over, practically begging, was because he was desperate. The urge, the need for release, had been overwhelming. And now he was being asked to supress it. No, in fact, it was being demanded of him.

Before he could adjust himself to the situation at hand, he felt her touch, her fist closing around his length. He gritted his teeth, trying not to make a sound, but his breath hissed out as he relaxed into her grip. She watched him, eyes never leaving his face, as she stroked his cock, feeling it pulsing under her touch, watching his face contort as he got closer to the pleasure. As he struggled against the restraints, he bucked his hips up, thrusting his cock through her closed fist. Sensing his desperation she jerked harder, faster, listening to him as he whimpered her name under his breath. He rarely did that, only when he was deeply aroused, so close to orgasm that his mind was stifled and his efforts to pretend he didn’t care who was making him cum lapsed, letting her know he was thinking of her, transfixed on her alone. When she felt his muscles tensing, she let go quickly with no warning, and Harvey snapped at her.

“Oh, fuck- … really?”

“Yep. I told you, rules are rules. You sure you can handle it?”

“Listen, I can handle anything.”

“Let’s test that theory then.”

She stood up from the floor, her hands moving to her back, a sultry move of her hips as she unzipped her dress and pulled it down her body onto the floor. Basking in his gaze, his pupils blown, she let him take her in. Completely naked, no underwear, because what was the point, in her heels only. Either instinctively or stupidly, Harvey pulled against the restraints, trying to reach out and grab her.

Lifting her leg up, she rested her foot on Harv’s chest, the toe of her shoe pressed into his chest and the stiletto heel digging into the skin just below. She increased the pressure, pushing him back into the seat.

“I really don’t think you’re going to be able to do this, Harvey. I think you’re going to give in, which is a shame, because you would make the nicest little fuck toy.”

“I’m really not going to give in, or back down. The coin decided. I can play fair.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

Before he had finished his sentence, she had lowered her leg and was straddling him, holding his cock at the base as she lowered herself on to it. His whole body tensed as she clenched around him, her walls stretching to accommodate his entire cock as she balanced on his lap. She rolled her hips forward once, a quick thrust, and Harvey’s fingers gripped the arms of his chair. With a sly giggle, she began grinding herself on him, using him to fuck herself.

Under her, she could feel his body shifting and writhing, at least as much as he could manage while he was restrained. His desperate bids to try and take control of the situation, to at least fuck her instead of being fucked, but he couldn’t get the angle right, and she was grinding down hard on him, limiting his movements.

The more she rocked against him, her fingers clawing at his chest and broad shoulders, moaning in pleasure with each stroke of his cock against her sensitive insides, the more Harvey could feel himself reaching his own climax. But it was telling, his face, the way his breathing became ragged. And each time he seemed to be reaching the point of no return, she kept her body still, his cock twitching inside of her, pulsing as she raised herself off it, waiting until he had calmed down before she began rocking herself on it again.

“You are a complete pain in the ass, you know that?”

“Oh, Harv. Careful what you wish for. I brought more than just the silk ties, you know.”

Something unfamiliar inside of him stirred. He was usually never complacent in being dominated, but the way she commanded control over his body, the suggestion of her possibly taking him and penetrating him gave him butterflies. He’d never admit to it though. Their relationship was unsteady, not based in trust. He couldn’t imagine confessing that to her. he had to maintain at least equality, even if it meant denying himself a pleasure he was suddenly deeply curious about.

She began groaning as she picked up the pace of her thrusts, her slick coating Harvey’s thighs and her own, arousal flooding her as she could feel the heat of orgasm spreading from her stomach through her body. But, much to her own disappointment as his own, as she began to feel herself closing in on her own orgasm, she was thrown off by the sudden shifting below her, and Harvey’s frantic pleas.

“Ok… you have to stop, I can’t… I can’t hold it this time, I swear…”

Swiftly, and without much ceremony, she stood up, his cock freed from her as he sighed in relief, bobbing before settling, the flushed red member settling against his abdomen. He was so hard, so aroused, and she knew he was enjoying himself, but the pain of being denied the pleasure was still etched on his face.

“You need to give me a second… I can’t… I have to…”

“Can’t handle it as well as you thought, huh big guy?”

“Shut up.”

A little irritated by his attitude, she decided to keep pressing him. Bending at the waist, she leaned in to him, her breasts in front of his face, tantalisingly close but just out of reach of his mouth. She stroked her thumb over the head of his cock, wet with her own slick, picking up the small drops of precum which formed at the slit, spreading it over the sensitive skin with the gentle motions. His hips jerked, hitching up in desperation, trying to cling to the modicum of joyous friction and touch she offered. But she pulled her hand away again.

“Oh you… little bitch…”

“Tut, tut, Harvey. That’s not very gentlemanly of you. Even he wouldn’t be so rude to me.”

“That’s because he enjoys watching you torture me.”

“Torture is such a severe word. It’s… teasing.”

“Yeah, Harv!”

He growled at his own response, irritated by how much Two Face enjoyed the suspense, the withholding of pleasure.

“Shut up, don’t make this any worse.”

“Ah, the inner turmoil. One of you loves it, letting me be in charge. The other hates it. And let’s be honest, even more than he loves being brought to the edge and cruelly pushed back again, Two Face definitely likes to see you suffer more.”

He whined, his voice breaking, throat closing as he tensed against her, the way she seemed to have complete control over him.

“Ok, enough now, come on!”

She ignored his pleas, his desperate begging to be let loose. He wasn’t playing by the rules, after all, and he would be mad at himself and her if she gave into his demands so easily.

“Hey, seriously.”

“Oh, Harvey. You’re forgetting the rules, sweet boy.”

He looked to her, confused, eyebrow cocked and mouth open as he thought.

“You’ll have to use your safe word if you want me to stop, silly.”

“Oh…”

Quicker than she expected, Harvey uttered the word in an unamused tone, and the atmosphere shifted. With the confusion now on her end, she untied the silk restraints from Harvey’s ankles and then his wrists, freeing him from his ridiculously egomaniacal throne with a desperately disappointed feeling settling in her stomach. She was worried that she had taken it too far. Worried that she might have ruined things between them. And more than that, she was annoyed that she wasn’t going to get to fuck him now. But, before she had too long to let the dismal feeling fester in her chest, Harvey had his hands on her arms, gripping her tight and turning her around before he dropped her into the seat he had just left.

Swift, surprisingly so, he tied one of her wrists up, and she realised what was happening.

“Harvey Dent!”

“Guess again, baby.”

He grinned wide, self-satisfied and mischievous as he winked at her, tying the other wrist and moving to her ankles.

“Oh. You. I might have known.”

As he smiled, he continued to tie her ankles up, and she put up a little bit of a fight, just for him. She didn’t want him to think he wasn’t getting the full show. He liked a bit of a struggle, after all. At least, Two Face did. And she was more than happy to perform for him.

When he had finally secured her to the seat, mimicking the way he himself had been tied up, he stood back to admire his work. As she stared back at him, her chest heaved, breathing heavily as she waited patiently to be ravaged by him. And she didn’t have to wait long.

He sank to his knees and slowly shuffled towards her, his hands on her knees, trailing up her thighs, spreading them as far as they would go past the arms of the chair without straining her ankles, before he buried his face between them.

She screamed out instantly, the sudden fervour of his touch, the passion and hunger behind it, driving her to the edge as he pressed his tongue into her cunt, shaking his head from side to side as he growled into her. Her wrists were bashed against the ties and the arms of the throne as she tried to reach out for him, desperate to grip his hair, to push him closer to her, further into her. Straining, she screamed and groaned, as Harvey’s muffled laughter only served to tease her more.

She whined when Harvey knelt back, resting on his ankles, away from her body.

“Don’t worry, I’m not as cruel as you.”

He undid the ties, freeing her. Sitting still, she looked at him, waiting cautiously.

“Turn around and get on your knees.”

Obediently, she did as she was told, her knees on the soft cushion of the chair, her arms holding onto the back of the throne. She braced herself, waiting for Harvey, jumping when his hands made contact. His palms, smoothing over her hips around to her rear, grabbing at her cheeks as he held himself against her. Gripping his cock, he ran the head of his cock along her lips, teasing her before he slid himself inside of her.

“F… fuck…”

“Yeah, I thought so. You like that?”

“Mmm… oh god…”

“You can pretend all you want. You’re a little slut who likes getting fucked.”

Harvey held onto her waist with one hand, the other reaching up to grip her hair, pulling it and arching her back against him and onto him. With the angle he had her at, he thrust up, striking her inside, his abdomen slapping against her ass.

“You like being fucked rough? Think you deserve it?”

Unable to speak past the moans and gasps, the pleasure overwhelming, she could only mumble incoherently against his punishing thrusts.

“I’m in control.”

There was a guttural groan as he thrust himself in, his fingernails digging into her skin, a change in his tone, in his voice.

“I’m in control. Not you. Not him. Just me.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest, excitement growing at Two Face’s words, the way he held her, the way he forced more of himself into her than she thought she could take, surprised by her body’s willingness to have his entire length inside of her.

“That’s it, take it. Take everything, you’re such a dirty whore, huh?”

She nodded, but it was imperceptible given the force at which her body was being pounded into, and the quivering of her every muscle as she tried to steady herself in the wake of her climax. Body ready, weakened by arousal and pleasure, she could feel herself slipping, losing strength. And as she came, screaming at the top of her lungs and clenching around him, she was steadied only by his hands, one on her hip, the other on her chest.

Quickly, without giving herself much time to revel in the aftermath, she steadied her own body again, oddly keen to serve his needs in that moment.

“Where do you want it? You wanna be filthy? Want me to cum inside you?”

“Please, Harv… anything… anything…”

“So obedient. You’ll remember this next time you think you’re in control, hm?”

She bit her lip, trying to remain stoic, but as he withdrew himself, she shouted out.

“No don’t, Harvey, please. I swear, I’ll remember.”

Slamming himself back in with a cruel smile, he rutted a few more times before he grunted loud, a low groan following it as he spilled himself inside of her. Pulling out, he watched his cum trickle down the inside of her thighs, settling on the seat of his throne. He leaned in, kissing the back of her neck and bringing his palm sharply to her rear.

“You should know me better by now.”

Knowing he couldn’t see her, she smiled at the sentiment. She did, and she had known exactly what she was getting in for. Always had.

#harvey dent #two face #two face fanfic #finnie writes #arkham!two face #two face x reader #harvey dent x reader

[autumnslance]

Year of the OTP - July 2023 - Stars

(More Shadowbringers timeline, have some yearning during a key early moment. Original prompt list Here. 2 sections, 2 screenshots, 850ish words nearly evenly split between 2 POVs.)

Thancred cooked over a small fire as Minfilia imbued his ammunition. There was a sudden pressure in his ears, on his shoulders. The sky rippled…

…and broke.

The oppressive Light evaporated like clouds of steam, plunging the world into darkness. Minfilia shrieked, the cartridges tumbling from her hands. “Thancred?!”

He couldn’t answer immediately, staring up, the stinging wetness in his eyes not from the campfire smoke.

The moon shone down, a gleaming disk of silver. Stars scattered across the velvety darkness, blinking and winking like old friends. And they were, he realized, recognizing constellations memorized to help comrades with their Astrology studies once upon a time.

“Thancred, is this…night?”

He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Yes,” he managed hoarsely. “The night sky, the moon and stars.”

She hugged herself. “Then this means…”

“She’s here,” Thancred whispered. His heart tried to beat through his chestplate, his pulse in his ears, echoing: she’s here, she’s here, she’s here, she’s here!

“We have to find her,” Minfilia said, crystal-blue gaze turning from the sky to the shadowed woodline.

“We will,” Thancred replied. “But first we need to pick up those cartridges and eat.”

His mind spun while his heart continued to do backflips behind his sternum. Five years of dreaming, of longing, and Aeryn was here. Had much time passed for her as well? Or was it as the Exarch’s mirror showed, and she was the same as she had been their last night together in Ala Mhigo?

Aeryn’s hair falling in midnight waves down her back, her eyes shining silver in amusement at his jokes and teasing, the lilt of her accent followed by her laughter, the scent of the white violas she wore in her hair, the soft touch of her skin against his, the heat between them keeping the chill of the highland night at bay…

Thancred let out a sigh, hardly noticing his meal, vaguely aware of Minfilia watching him.

Five years in this harsh realm had changed him; would it be too much? Would Aeryn still recognize him? Still want him?

He ought to be sure of the answer; he knew her well enough. But that ever-present voice in the back of his head whispered warnings as always. One would think he’d be able to ignore his self-doubt by now.

“Let’s clean up and break camp,” he said, dousing the fire. Minfilia whined at the loss of light. “Your eyes will adjust; it’s a lovely night, for the first this world’s seen in far too long.”

Thancred paused to look at the sky again. She’s here.

—

Aeryn looked up at the sky again, the familiar moon and constellations looking back, comforting after their absence.

She had only been in the First for a little over a fortnight, the lack of change each day disorienting and the constant press of Light wearisome. How much stranger it must be for the people of the First, who had never seen the night, never known the natural rhythmic shifts in time and weather and the beauty of the true sky!

Alphinaud also kept pausing to look up and smile, his relief and happiness palpable. So many other people as they walked by were staring up, talking to one another in excitement, unable to tear their eyes from the starscape above. There were many tears, prayers and songs of thanks even before they entered the city proper.

As they passed through the checkpoint, the Exarch quietly spoke to a guard. “Any word from Thancred?”

Are you seeing the stars too?

Was Thancred nearby? Had he seen the Light split away and wonder why, or did he know what this meant? Was he even in Lakeland, or in another part of the realm where Light still billowed and swirled above? Did he yet care, or had the years he had spent here—years!—dull his affections? What of this companion the Exarch had mentioned?

“Not yet, my lord.”

The moonlight had streamed in through the window of her room in Ala Mhigo, the stars twinkling, their light making Thancred’s fair hair practically glow as they had lounged in the bed, talking and joking, laughing and teasing. His hands had been warm on her skin as they cunningly explored her, his voice low and sending shivers down her spine. His mismatched eyes had glimmered in amusement, the line of his mouth crooking into a smile before leaning in to kiss her again, drawing her close to his warmth against the night’s chill.

The next day his body lay frighteningly still and silent, everything that made him Thancred…gone.

She could count the time in mere sennights and moons. But he had been here without the moon and stars, without her, for five entire years.

Do you know that I’m here? Do you still care? Do you see the stars?

“Aeryn,” Alphinaud called, pausing with the Exarch at the head of the bridge leading into the Crystarium.

She turned her face from the sky to smile at her companions as she rejoined them.

I’m here, her heart silently called. And I brought you the stars. Do you see them? Do you see me?

#final fantasy xiv #lyn writing #lyn edits #YOTP 2023 #Shadowbringers #Lakeland #Thancred Waters #Thancred x WoL #wolcred #Ryne Waters #Crystal Exarch #Alphinaud Leveilleur #Aeryn Striker #Shippy Nonsense

[kybercrystals94]

Ghost Stories

By KyberCrystals94

Read here on Ao3

Whumptober 2023 | Day 17 | Alternative Prompt: Panic

Rating: T

Words: 847

Summary: Fives tells a ghost story during a training camp with Domino Squad.

Author’s Note: takes place during the Clone Wars, while Domino Squad are still cadets

Echo scowls into the trees surrounding their camp, arms crossed tightly over his chest. He resists the yearning to slink into the comforting glow of the firelight because he knows if any of the other Dominos wake up and find him away from his post, he will never hear the end of it for the rest of his life.

“Stupid Fives and his stupid stories,” Echo mutters to the inky darkness.

“I have a story,” Fives said around the campfire that night while the Domino Squad gnawed on stale ration bars, “but you have to promise not to be scared.”

“We’re not tubies,” Droidbait retorted.

Fives holds up his hands. “Hey, I’m just saying, if you’re terrified tonight when you’re all alone on your watch, don’t come crying to me.”

“Just tell your stupid story,” Hevy said, “I can’t imagine anything being scarier than Echo reciting the regulations in his sleep like that one time.”

“That never happened,” Echo grumbled.

“How would you know? You were asleep,” Fives said.

Echo rolled his eyes.

“Anyway,” Fives says, “this is a true story I heard from one of the troopers on Kamino. And it happened right here, on Fos Eran…”

Echo edges around the perimeter of the camp, keeping his back to where his brothers sleep, his eyes forward to the looming silhouettes of trees and squat shadows of undergrowth, barely touched by moonlight. He has his torch beam skimming the tree line, but it can’t account for everything all at once. Echo hates this, the feeling of eyes watching him, the sensation of an unidentified presence lurking.

A branch snaps.

The hair on the back of Echo’s neck stands on end.

“They say the bride went into the woods that night,” Fives said, leaning forward, voice low, “the eve before her wedding. There were flowers, she said, that only bloom in the light of the full moon.”

Echo glanced up at the reflective orb shining down at them.

“Oh,” Fives said, looking up, “I guess there’s a full moon tonight too.”

“Like you didn’t know that,” Cutup groaned.

Echo swallows, daring to glance back to where the four other members of Domino Squad sleep.

“It is just a stupid story, Echo, di’kut,” he whispers, “Stop letting it go to your head. You are part of the greatest army the galaxy has ever seen. Are you really scared of a little story?”

A gust of wind cools the back of his neck like a whispery breath.

Echo jumps.

“…after they heard her blood curdling scream, they searched for weeks, but never found her body, just a strip of fabric from the dress she wore that night. Since then, every month on the night of the fullest moon, the ghost of the bride comes searching for a groom to join her in death. You’ll see her out the corner of your eye, but when you turn to look, she isn’t there, but you’ll feel her breath on your neck, her fingers in your hair…”

Echo catches a flash of white out the corner of his eye and turns to look. Nothing.

“Of course, it’s nothing,” Echo growls, “there’s nothing there.”

“Echo…”

Echo spins around, the beam of his torch flying madly across the treetops. “Who’s there?”

“Echo…” a whisper says, a voice so soft it barely wraps around the syllables of his name.

Echo looks back to the camp where four bodies lay, deep in undisturbed sleep. How angry would they be if he woke them up now? He would probably die of embarrassment before any of his squad mates could kill him.

“Sith’s hell,” Echo curses, chest tight. Someone’s out there, in the woods. Probably someone from another squad pulling a prank. Absolute idiots. The whole lot of them. Echo swallows, gripping his torch so tight in both hands his joints ache.

“Join me, Echo…”

Fingers card through his hair.

Echo doesn’t shriek. He doesn’t. Absolutely does not. But by the time his vision clears, he is looking down at Fives who is sitting on his shebs, hands cupped over a bloody nose from Echo inadvertently backhanding him as he spun around in sheer panic. Cutup is cackling so hard he is doubled over as he staggers out of the woods from where the voice called out.

“Kark, Echo!” Fives cries, but even with his hands covering the whole lower part of his face, Echo can see from the clone’s eyes that he has the biggest, stupidest smile on his face. “Did I scare you?”

Echo glares down at him. “You’re lucky they don’t let us carry blasters out here, or I would’ve shot you.”

“I didn’t know clone voices could reach that octave,” Cutup howls. “Congrats, Echo! That must be a record.”

Hevy and Droidbait are sitting up in their bedrolls now, tiredly blinking, but grins stretching their identical faces.

Echo wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole. “I’m going to pay you back,” he swears at Fives and Cutup, “both of you. You won’t see it coming, and it will be swift and painful.”

END

Author’s Note: Thought I was due for a light hearted story, so here we are.

Tag List: @isthereanechoinhere96 @followthepurrgil @amorfista

✨Let me know if you’d like to be to be added to the Tag List✨

#whumptober 2023 #day 17 #alternative prompt #panic #sw the clone wars #sw the bad batch #the clone wars #the bad batch #Star Wars #fives and echo #clone trooper echo #tbb echo #arc trooper echo #echo #fives clone wars #clone trooper fives #arc trooper fives #tcw cutup #tcw droidbait #tcw hevy #cadets #training #ghost stories #humor #brotherly bonding #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer

[blackknight-100]

Hello there anon, and thank you for the prompt! I got so excited with this I accidentally posted your ask without answering it (I'm so sorry😭😭) so I'm afraid I have to use a screenshot. I hope you like reading this!

Character Swap - Arjuna and Karna

1.

Phalguna comes to Kuntidesha as it always does, but this year the air is colder, and the soil is wet with rain. The ponds are full and even rivers flow swifter, for Indra turns his eye upon them.

Princess Pritha bears the last few weeks of her womanly toil with ill grace; she is yet sixteen, face perpetually wrinkled in agony. The King of Gods has promised her maidenhood, Pritha thinks she would have given that up to be rid of this soreness.

When her time comes one cloudy eve, her trusted maid kneels by her screaming self, and snips the cord off a divine child.

The babe is soft and beautiful, with her looks and her smile and her curled hair; he yawns in restless sleep like a little dark moon. Pritha’s head is bent in prayer, her still-young heart is numb. She is a princess of two noble Kings, a star in the darkness of Āryavarta. Few women have her fortune, even lesser have her power, and yet she is just another girl, at the mercy of sages and gods, and the thought makes Pritha's head bow lower.

She stands by the raging Aswa as her maid gently sets the basket afloat, for foolish she may be, but cruelty comes only through her orders, and never by her hand, and the sky shatters with thunder and rain. Of all the recipients of Indra’s wrath, there has never been one more tragic.

His father from his heavenly throne names the child Arjuna, swears to guide and lead and bestow divine counsel, but as songs later let us know: he is ever known by his mothers’ names, for he is Rādha and Pritha's son.

2.

Karna is born the last of Kunti’s sons, and the third of Pāndu’s scions. He comes into the world like a shining light, with her face and her smile and her curls in his hair. For the first few weeks, Kunti cannot bear to look at the babe, and nurses him with her eyes to the sky. The sun shines upon them, bright and reprimanding, and Kunti wills Surya to chastise his own brother.

To Mādri she says, and to a concerned Pāndu, that the birth tired her, to the child she murmurs tales of a long-lost brother.

“He looked just like you,” Kunti tells him, as Karna swings in his cradle. It is a rickety thing, old as Yudhisthira, and worn with Bheema’s fervour, but it is a cradle still, and Kunti wonders if her other son ever knew one.

“I think you would have loved him,” Kunti says, wistfully, weaving dreams out of her yearning. “He would have been your big brother.”

The boy in the cradle coos at her, toothless smile lighting up the world, and for a moment his face is dark, and outside it rains, and the babe in her arms is Indra’s child.

3.

“You are terrible,” Arjuna scowls at Duryodhana, even though his father has taken great pains to counsel him otherwise. “He is just having fun.”

Duryodhana turns an interesting shade of purple. “His fun involves beating up my brothers and acting innocent when Pitāmaha asks him about it.”

Arjuna has no reason to defend this new prince, one whom he has never seen nor met, but his mouth betrays him once more. “That is not a good enough reason to kill him. You are merely jealous.”

“Kill whom?” says a voice, and Arjuna nigh jumps out of his skin as a boy swings down from the mango tree.

“Karna,” Duryodhana sighs. “Are you troubling the squirrels again?”

“No,” the boy says, shoving his fist behind his back. He is barely five and... light; his eyes are light and honey-brown, his hair is the light of sunshine on tree-barks, and his face glows like day. “You’re going to kill my brother,” he repeats stubbornly.

Arjuna blinks; his father would not forgive him for this.

Duryodhana sighs once more. “Your brother is beating mine up.”

“I will tell him not to,” Karna promises, and Arjuna is a little sorry for the boy – all wobbling lips and earnest eyes. “I will tell Mother if he does. Please don’t kill him.”

Arjuna expects Duryodhana to say something like ‘Run along, child’ or ‘Do not eavesdrop on your elders’, but the prince has an indulgent, almost fond look on his face.

“Give me that,” he says, pointing at the hand Karna has behind his back. Arjuna thinks it a cruel thing to ask, then the boy reluctantly brings out a bursting handful of areca nuts, and Arjuna has to laugh.

Duryodhana smiles as well, plucks one of the six in his hand. Karna drops two others, and as he bends to retrieve his fallen treasures, Duryodhana ruffles his hair.

“Run along now, little scamp,” the Kaurava prince says.

“Are you going to kill him?” Karna asks, eyes wide and worried.

“No,” Duryodhana assures him, “but remember what we agreed, yes?”

Karna beams at them, one after the other. “I will! See you.”

With that, he is gone.

Duryodhana cracks the nut and hands half of it to Arjuna – sinfully possessive one moment, impossibly generous the next.

Arjuna gapes at him. “Are you really not going to kill Bheem?”

Duryodhana glowers at him. “Go lay an egg,” he says, rudely, and stalks off. Arjuna stares at his retreating back, confused.

But no news comes that day, or the next, or any of the weeks after, and slowly, Arjuna learns to breathe easier.

4.

“Who is that?” Krishna asks.

Karna starts, he has not been paying attention. Krishna is the scion of faraway Dwārika, and not much of an acquaintance in any manner of the term, although the dark haired prince claims he has hardly ever been outside Vrindāvan, and never to the city by the sea.

“Pardon me,” Karna says, contrite, “whom do you speak of?”

“That boy,” says Krishna, and points towards a lone figure lurking by the stables.

“That is Arjuna. His father is Pitāmaha's charioteer.”

“May I speak to him?”

“Excuse me,” Karna hails the older boy, “can you spare a moment?”

Arjuna appears at his side, all muddy fringes and stiff bows. “Greetings, princes.”

“Greetings,” Karna nods. “This is Krishna, my cousin. Krishna, Arjuna.”

Krishna is tall and dark, his young face beams with pleasure. “How do you do, Pārtha?”

Arjuna blinks. “Uh... I am not called that. My mother’s name is Rādha.”

Krishna gives him a secret smile, and waves at someone above his head. Karna, distracted by a squirrel, nearly misses it.

“Duryodhana?” he says, delighted, when he notices the other boy on the balcony. “Come down, come down.”

Krishna shakes his arm. “Perhaps, the four of us can go to the garden?”

Sometime later, the four of them are seated around a bush, shears in hand. The rose shrub is not big enough to make a topiary out of, but Queen Gandhari has arranged tables around it with the hopes of giving the boys a more fruitful pastime to channel their excitement into.

“And what should I do?”

Arjuna is seated beside Krishna, facing the others. Duryodhana picks up his shears and snips a stray leaf. “We have to make this appear smooth and shapely.”

“Why?”

Karna stares at him. “Because Aunt Gandhari says so, of course.”

Krishna pulls his legs up on the bench, lifts a fist to the air. “Let’s dooo it!”

For the next couple of hours they work diligently, or at least pretend to, for Duryodhana starts kicking Karna under the bench, and Karna kicks him back, and it is an entertaining game; Krishna, meanwhile, shows Arjuna how and where to snip – he has clever eyes, and his hands are dexterous.

When they finally leave, one side of the bush poorer than the other, Krishna swings his hands around his new friend’s shoulders and lags behind the two princes. “You were saying Guru Drona does not want to teach you?”

Arjuna flushes. “That is true. It is er... his choice, of course, no disrespect intended.”

Krishna’s eyes twinkle. “Dau and I are going to study with Guru Sāndīpani. Do you wish to come with?”

Arjuna chances a glance at Karna, barely jealous, but there still. “I think I would like that.”

5.

“Can we not do this here?” Arjuna hisses. His father looks over from the garden where he and Rādha Mā are talking to Lord Bhishma, and Arjuna is afraid.

“Come now,” Duryodhana groans. “We are settling it man to man, just as Pitāmaha wanted. What is wrong now?”

Arjuna glances at the Pāndava brothers, aching with the weight of Anga’s crown and the knowledge of the Jatugrīha. “Why am I a part of this conversation?”

Yudhisthira coughs politely, as he is wont to. It gets on Arjuna's nerves like nothing else. “If you will excuse me,” he says, “we must greet our mother.”

The Pāndavas glance up as one, and Arjuna notices Dowager Empress Kunti hurrying down the steps.

“Mother,” Karna and Sahadeva exclaim excitably and there is a flurry of motion as they settle down to accept their blessings. To his surprise, Duryodhana follows, and he is compelled to join in the flock.

“There you are, darling,” Kunti says, pulling him up, then freezes.

Something old and forgotten stirs within Arjuna – a shadow of a memory, a wisp of a dream, a woman still as a flame with a child in her arms. Mother, he nearly says, ancient words soaring to his mouth, the shapes of them lingering on his tongue. Mother, look what we have brought home.

Then the Grandfather joins them and the moment is gone.

His father throws him a disapproving glance, and Arjuna shrinks from the princes. His mother, though, is staring at Karna.

“Vāsu...?” she whispers, as if to a ghost, and Karna turns.

“Yes, Mā?”

“His name is Karna,” Bheema declares loudly, and glares at them. The prince has not yet forgiven Arjuna’s stunt at the Graduation, even if Karna claims he would have done the same.

Radha Mā looks flustered, and Karna shifts in discomfort, as if put on a stage for a part he does not know how to play. Adhiratha grabs Arjuna and wraps an arm around his wife.

“Please forgive her, Prince,” he says, and starts pulling them away. “By your leave...”

Arjuna supposes they have embarrassed his father enough. His mother walks as if in a trance. “Vāsu?” she murmurs under her breath. “Vāsusena... child, where are you gone?”

Arjuna, alarmed, turns one last time. Karna is miserable and bewildered, staring after Rādha like a lost child, and Kunti's eyes, seeking him, are wet with tears.

+1

Arjuna sits silent and still, horror trembling beneath his skin like a fluttering bird.

“Duryodhana, please...” Arjuna whispers, unsure of what he begs, and fearful of the prince's wrath.

“I bet my brother, Karna,” Yudhisthira says, drunk on dharma and shivering with repentance. “If I win, I shall have him and all that is on the board; if you do, then he is yours.”

Karna looks up, stunned. There is betrayal on his face, and Arjuna’s heart stings. Even Duryodhana frowns, for Karna alone of all his cousins he names a friend.

“As you say,” Shakuni shrugs, and rolls his dice. “Lo! I win!”

Karna rises from his seat without being asked, walks over to kneel beside his brothers. His mien is smooth and calm now, all torment shielded behind a mask, but Bheema leaps up, enraged.

“Brother!” he tells Yudhisthira, “Hear me! Cease this madness before you lose all else.”

“I cannot leave them to this fate, Bheema,” Yudhisthira says, and picks the dice again. “I stake Bheema.”

“No, wait,” Duryodhana says, brows furrowed. “Māmāshree, do not bet now.”

The two players look up.

“No more?” Yudhisthira repeats slowly, as if he thought this game would go on forever, till the last brother was staked, and perhaps his wife and mother as well.

“Are you sure, my dear?” Shakuni asks.

Duryodhana ignores both of them, strides over to Karna. “Come with me.”

“I shall split your head open,” Bheema roars from beside Yudhisthira. “Leave him alone.”

“I won him,” Duryodhana reminds him coldly, “and I would that he comes with me.”

Karna rises with a grace that startles Arjuna, no longer the clumsy middle prince who dropped things, just like he is no longer a charioteer's dutiful son.

“I will go,” he says, and Yudhisthira turns to the court at large. “Please forgive my brother’s outburst.”

Arjuna wants to slap him.

Duryodhana wraps an arm around Karna's shoulders, and steers him to the doors. For a moment it appears that Bheema would follow, but then the Kaurava prince dismisses the guards, and they step just outside, far enough so no one can overhear whispers, but near enough that they are seen, and a fuming Bheema sits back down.

Arjuna sits and waits for a long time, like all others at court, even the blind Emperor, who can never walk without his son, and thinks miserably of how much Krishna would disapprove.

He is about to join them, either to pacify or to add fuel to the fire, when Karna speaks, loud and sarcastic enough to be heard all over the court. “I loved it. I loved it so much I am going to write a play about it, and have actors sent to perform it all over Āryavarta. Why, I should- ”

Duryodhana catches his flailing hands, shushes him. They whisper once more. The blind Emperor swivels his head in apparent confusion. Arjuna gets up to intervene.

Then Duryodhana walks in, a furious Karna in tow.

Arjuna seizes him by the arm. “Let them go, Duryodhana,” he pleads. “Do not do this.”

His patron and friend...? looks at him quietly for a long time, so long that Arjuna very nearly reaches for his bow.

Dhritarashtra, for once in his life, takes the cue. “Court is dismissed,” he calls, and the ordeal is over.

“You have counselled me wisely,” Duryodhana says at last. “Now, and before. It is a shame that I heeded you not.” Then he raises his head and says aloud, without preamble or explanation, “Let all be returned and restored to the Pāndava princes. Thank you, noble ones, for joining us in this game. We shall retire soon for lunch.”

Two years later, when the knowledge of the game is a rumour, and the incident at Indraprastha's lake is forgotten, Karna comes alone to Hastinapura. Krishna, who is visiting, gives Arjuna one of his secret smiles.

At the gates, Duryodhana meets him stiffly, for things have never been the same between the two sets of cousins. They bow ceremoniously, Dhritarashtra speaks a few half-hearted greetings, and Gandhari fusses over him.

Karna and Duryodhana stare at each other, and then Karna wraps him in a fierce hug.

“You’re not forgiven,” the Pandava prince says, voice muffled, but Arjuna notes Karna's trembling hands and thinks he knows otherwise.

Then, to his surprise, Karna turns to him. Krishna smiles at him again and whispers, “Prepare yourself, Angarāja.”

Before Arjuna can ask him what he means, Karna bows to him and says, “Greetings, brother.”

#draupadi is not included in this fic bc my girl does not deserve the kuru's stupidity in any of the timelines #i do not take criticism regarding that #yudhishthir #yudhisthira #bhim #bheema #arjuna #boo writes #arjun #karna #karn #sahadeva #sahadev #duryodhana #duryodhan #bhima #bheem #krishna #5 + 1 fic #ask response #anon ask #fics #anon answered #mahabharata #mahabharat #hindu mythology #kunti #radha

[fanficshiddles]

Longing, One Shot

Thank you for the prompt toshisurtsdottir submitted:

Loki is a Professor at Hogwarts (let’s say, for fun, he’s the grumpy potions Professor) and has a colleague called Toshi Vernier (also, just a fun name I made up). The two of them have a love-hate relationship. Loki is walking through the halls at night, seeing if any students are out when he bumps into Toshi. Taking advantage of the darkness, the two of them decide to finally give in to their desires and end up in his small potion cabinet ;)

-

I know how much you love Snape, so I’ve changed/added to this slightly…

-

Loki was on duty tonight to check the halls, there had been some unruly students the previous few weeks causing trouble at night, so all the Professor’s were taking turns making sure students were behaving.

‘Lumos.’ Loki swished his wand and it lit up the corridor ahead of him as he thought he heard a noise.

He took a few more steps towards the noise when suddenly a tiny mouse came scurrying around the corner with Mrs Norris, Filches cat, hot on its heels.

Loki smirked and shook his head. ‘Evening, Norris.’

The cat gave a small yowl in response as she continued to focus on her prey and ran off in the direction Loki had just come from.

Loki put his wand away, putting him back into darkness. With only the light of the moon shining in through the window to guide his way. But he preferred it that way, it made it easier to catch any students too, if they couldn’t see him coming.

It became eerily quiet as he rounded another corner and came to the large doors of the banquet hall. He opened one door with a creak and narrowed his eyes as he glanced around the large room, there was nothing out of the ordinary that he could see. He backed out and shut the door again, but as he turned around, he was slightly startled as there was a small figure right next to him.

He whipped out his wand and aimed it at the shadow, but he was then aimed at too with a wand, and as his eyes adjusted more with the moonlight, he realised he recognised the silhouette.

‘Not many people can sneak up on me like that.’ He drawled with a smirk as he lowered his wand.

‘I’m not many people.’ Toshi responded as she twirled her wand up in the air and caught it before putting it away in her pocket.

‘Indeed.’ Loki growled low and licked his lips.

Toshi Vernier was one Professor that Loki couldn’t get out of his mind. She was a feisty woman, but he could tell she had a kind heart, even if she tried to hide it for the most time. But she doted on her students, wanting to help them get the best out of themselves.

She always announced her dislike of Loki, but they both knew it was mainly because he had replaced Professor Severus Snape in potions. She and Snape had been very close, but even though they had both really liked one another, neither of them had ever made the first move so their relationship never progressed. Then Hogwarts decided to replace Snape with Loki.

Toshi had been absolutely devasted. Poor Loki had been hurled abuse at by her for the first few months, but then it slowly became more bickering than anything. And Loki was able to give back just as good as he got.

And while in the last five months they often argued and poked fun at eachother, there was no denying that there was tension brewing between them. Toshi would never admit that she had a crush on Loki, that he was so good looking… She knew her heart belonged to Snape… Or at least, she thought it did.

‘What are you doing out of bed?’ Loki asked as he folded his arms over his chest.

‘I’m not a student, I am allowed to go where I want, when I want.’ Toshi said as she turned on her heels and headed down the corridor.

Loki followed after her, easily catching up with his large strides till he was right behind her. ‘I never said you couldn’t. I was simply asking what you were doing out of bed.’

‘I couldn’t sleep. So I thought I’d come and see which poor sucker was on duty tonight. And low and behold, it’s the suckiest sucker of them all.’

‘Watch it, brat.’ Loki growled at her and tugged on her hair sharply, making her yelp. ‘There may not be any students going about tonight to get punished, but there’s a professor that’s walking a very thin line.’

‘Yeah, you wish. You couldn’t handle me even if I allowed it.’ Toshi scoffed as she pulled her hair round over the front of her shoulder so it was out of Loki’s reach.

Loki moved in closer to her so she could feel his breath against her ear, the darkness heightening her senses.

‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to try?’ He whispered.

Toshi’s stomach twisted in knots. She wanted him… she really did. But did she want to give in? Could she give in?

Loki grinned widely at her silence, he knew she was conflicted. He slid his hand up her back to rest at the back of her neck, squeezing a little as they walked down the corridor.

‘Let’s make a bet, hmm? I bet I can have you a crumbling mess within the hour.’

Toshi was already keening a little at his hand on her neck, but she tried to remain strong.

‘An hour? Pfft.’

‘Half hour.’ Loki growled.

Toshi looked up at him, though she couldn’t see the expression on his face, she just knew that he was smirking. He always was, the annoying asshole.

They had stopped just outside his potion’s classroom, Loki reached out and opened the door, then waited for her response.

‘I guess I have nothing better to do.’ Toshi said with a shrug as she sauntered into the room.

She’d been in there many times, so knew her way around even in the dark. Most of her time was spent in there with Snape, simply just being in his presence while he worked on potions. Sometimes she had sat in on his classes, hidden at the back. Her heart hurt at the thought, though she didn’t get long to think about him before she felt Loki’s presence on her.

He was surprisingly gentle, at first. He cupped her face in both hands and kissed her deeply, his hands didn’t wander too far as his tongue began teasing hers. She slowly melted into him, and moaned into his mouth when he wrapped an arm around her to pull her flush against him.

Loki smirked against her lips, his hand then ventured further down over the swell of her ass. He gripped her hard, making her squeak. She could feel his bulge already pressing against her stomach through their clothes.

When they stopped for air, Toshi was feeling very flustered. She was starting to think he would indeed have her in a desperate mess for him within half an hour. Maybe less.

‘Time to teach you a lesson, darling. I’m going to fuck the brat out of you.’ He lifted her with ease around her middle and tossed her onto his desk at the front of the class, she went to move but he forced her down on her stomach and pinned her in place with his hand on the back of her neck. ‘No, no. You’ll be a good girl and do as you’re told.’

Toshi didn’t want to let him know the way he was speaking was arousing her so much, so she bit her tongue to keep quiet. But to Loki, her silence was louder than any noise she could make. He knew he was getting under her skin. He was going to win this.

Loki muttered a spell to remove her clothes, she cursed under her breath as she felt the cold air of the night hit her body, making her shiver. Loki slid his hand down her spine and chuckled as he felt her goosebumps rise on her skin, a mix of arousal and the cold.

‘Let’s see what I’m dealing with here.’ He gave her ass a sharp smack, making her gasp. She was about to say something witty but Loki put his large hand over her mouth to stop her. ‘Now now, pet. You don’t want to say anything that will get you into further trouble, do you?’

Toshi rolled her eyes, knowing he wouldn’t see since they were still limited with light. When she just huffed against his hand, Loki slowly removed it from her mouth.

‘Just as I thought.’ He chuckled.

He turned his attention back to her ass, gently rubbing over her cheeks, then he moved further down and he pushed her thighs apart so he could feel her. He cooed in delight as he slid his fingers through her wet folds.

‘My my, you are absolutely soaking already.’ He leisurely inserted two digits into her, curling them unhurriedly over her g spot that he was able to reach easily with his long fingers.

She mewled on the table under him, still being pinned down at the back of her neck while he continued rubbing over her g spot in a torturously slow manner. His thumb took possession of her clit, making her mind explode already and he’d barely begun touching her.

Toshi knew that she had lost the bet. But then she realised something…

‘Wai… wait… what happens if… I lose the bet?’ She whined, her body tried pushing down on his fingers to get more.

Loki chuckled wickedly and thrust his fingers into her a few more times before pulling his hand away completely. He moved around the table to the top of it so she could see his face, lit up by the way the moon was shining in. He looked far too beautiful like that…

‘I thought you’d never ask. And it’s clear you’ve lost already…’ He slipped his fingers into her mouth, making her taste herself.

‘Enough games, just tell me.’ Toshi whined over his fingers and squirmed.

But then she realised that she couldn’t move much because there was a weight that came over her back… A new warm breath against the back of her ear made her tremble.

‘It means I get to play too.’

Toshi knew that voice anywhere. She felt a big wave of emotions hit her. More arousal, shock, anger, sadness, happiness…

‘Severus?’ She gasped and tried looking round over her shoulder, but the way he had her pinned down she couldn’t.

Snape chuckled and then gripped her hair, tugging her head right back so she was looking up at him from upside down. Her eyes welled up with tears upon seeing him again after so long, but then her entire body felt like it was on fire as she realised the position she was.

‘Hello, lovely one.’ He grinned at her and kissed her forehead, making her heart explode. ‘I should have done this a long time ago.’ He growled.

Toshi cried out in pleasure as Snape positioned himself between her legs and she felt the blunt head of his cock press into her, slowly, oh so slowly… But she could feel every inch of him and it was better than she could have ever imagined.

She pressed her face down against the table, the coolness of it on her forehead helping to keep her grounded… for a little while. When Snape bottomed out in her he then, without warning, pulled almost all the way out so just the tip remained snuggled inside her and slammed back into her roughly, moving the table too underneath them.

‘As Loki said, you need the brat fucked out of you. And he’s prepared you so well for me.’ Snape hissed into her ear as he started fucking her roughly from behind.

With every thrust she cried out, her knuckles began turning white from the strong grip she had on the edge of the table.

Snape grabbed a fistful of her hair and tugged her head up off the table, her eyes widened as she could see Loki standing over her, his cock pulled out and proudly straining towards her.

‘Go on, suck him off. Put that filthy mouth of yours to good use.’ Snape demanded and let go of her hair so Loki could take hold and control her.

She didn’t need to be told twice as she parted her lips and took Loki’s cock into her mouth. She sucked him off as best she could, but it was difficult to concentrate with the pounding she was getting from Snape. She could feel his hair tickle her skin as he leaned down to kiss and suck on her neck.

‘Ohh that’s it. Good little brat.’ Loki hummed as he closed his eyes and let himself get lost in the incredible feeling of her wet, warm mouth.

Toshi’s mind had long gone, she couldn’t even remember her own name. All she could focus on was that she was being spit roasted by two gorgeous men that she had fantasised about for a long time now…

Swirling her tongue around Loki’s cock, he forced her head further down so she relaxed her throat as best she could, but her gag reflex did kick in a bit and made her gag on him. But Loki loved that feeling and it pushed him over the edge. He pulled out of her mouth and came all over her face with a loud moan.

‘Your turn, love. Come on, cum all over my cock.’ Snape said huskily into her ear.

He delivered a few last perfectly aimed thrusts into her, that sent her sky high as she clamped down on his cock. She was so sensitive from her orgasm that she could feel his cock pulsing as he hotly spurted his own release deep into her.

Finally, they both had what they’d been longing for for years.

Snape hid a tear that rolled down his cheek as he pressed his face into her hair. While Toshi had tears freely flowing, she couldn’t hide.

When Snape pulled out of her and got off her, Loki then helped her to sit up. She was shaky, but ok. Snape took his cloak and draped it around her to keep her warm.

‘I… I can’t believe you’re here.’ Toshi said as Loki turned on the lights in the classroom so they could all see clearly.

Snape smiled fondly at her and cupped her cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch.

‘I had to come back for you.’ He said softly.

‘I… have so many questions.’ Toshi said as she shook her head in disbelief.

‘We better go somewhere more private, your chambers.’ Loki said to Toshi as he walked back over to them both.

‘Yes, it’s probably best that my visit is kept quiet.’ Snape nodded.

Snape wrapped his arm around Toshi as she slid off the table, her knees were still weak as the three of them made their way to the door. But they stopped dead when they saw the door was open slightly, with Mrs Norris sitting there watching them all with her judging eyes.

‘Shit.’ All three of them muttered at the same time as Norris then bolted out the door.

#tom hiddleston #loki #severus snape #longing #one shot #prompt

[crazycatfaery]

#17 (... to distract) for Stellatrix or Skloom, your choice! No pressure ofc

I don't know why my brain immediately went for angst instead of the obvious fluff potential this prompt has, and I also accidentally wrote about 1300 words for this one (oops?). There's eventual fluff though, if only a little. And I've enjoyed writing my first Stellatrix, so I hope you'll enjoy reading it!

(I might need to start putting these in a list)

Read on Ao3 or down below.

TWs: Kiss might come off as non-consensual at first, descriptions of seizures/seizure-like erratic movement.

Returned

Kiss prompt: 17. A kiss to distract.

She runs. It doesn’t matter that’s it dark and she can’t see shit, she doesn’t have time to conjure up some light. It doesn’t matter that she’s been asleep for only twenty minutes, even though it’s nearly five in the morning. It doesn’t matter that she’s barreling barefoot through the school, and it doesn’t matter that she’s the crown princess of Solaria.

As soon as her brain had registered the name Aisha mentioned after waking her, followed by “greenhouse”, she’d jumped out of bed and taken off. Image and appearances be damned.

Nearly tripping over her own feet, she flies around the corner of the hallway leading up to the greenhouse. The doors are closed, but light shines through the matted glass, illuminating Headmaster Silva who’s standing in front of them.

“Stella,” he says quietly. The tone in his voice is gentle, but his eyes tell her he’s frightened, horrified even. “I take it Aisha has told you,” he adds as she halts in front of him.

“Is she in there?” Her own voice sounds sharp, too loud for her own ears.

Silva grabs her shoulder. “Stella, I need you to calm down, okay? We don’t know what happened yet, but she’s…it’s bad.” His eyes turn soft, but a vague glint of worry remains. “We might need you to try and help her.”

“Help her? But how, why, what?” She tries to even her breathing, her hands starting to tremble now that the spike of adrenaline isn’t in use for running anymore. Her heart is still attempting to perform a marathon though, going so fast she feels like she might faint any minute.

Letting go of her, Silva opens one of the doors before guiding her through. Stella blinks into the warm light, her eyes needing to adjust from running through the dark halls. When they finally do, the headmaster has led her halfway through the greenhouse, towards the section that’s used as the infirmary.

“Keep her still!” Flora, Sam, Terra, and Professor Harvey are all there, the siblings trying their hardest to hold the person that’s violently shaking on one of the beds as the professor tries to place a stethoscope on the person's chest. The iron bedframe rattles at the movement, intermitted sparks of electricity trickling down the arms of the patient. The sound may be even more haunting than the moaning and occasional screams coming from the seizing body.

“We’re trying, Dad, she’s too strong!” Terra shouts back to her father.

Stella shakes off Silva’s hand that he had placed back on her shoulder again in some form of support, and charges for the bed. Shoving Terra aside, she kneels at the bedside and finally lays eyes on the person they’re trying to restrain.

She looks like one of those undead monsters from the movies in the first world, she thinks wryly. Her skin is so thin and pale that she almost seems see-through, the bags under eyes stark against her paleness. Dirt clings to her hair in clumps, her clothes are ripped and her nails look bloody. Her wrists and ankles are tied to the bed frame, the ropes straining under the erratic movements.

“We had to tie her down,” Flora says apologetically. “She was starting to hurt herself.”

“Beatrix,” Stella whispers. Her eyes scan the body of her friend, still trembling in front of her. Long, bloodied scratches adorn her arms, and when she looks up she sees more of them around her throat. She reaches out and puts her hand on the girl’s cheek.

Beatrix immediately reacts to the gentle touch. Her eyes fly open, and she looks directly at the light fairy. “Help…me,” she squeaks, desperation beaming from her eyes.

“I will, I’ll help you, what do you need?” Stella hastily asks, retracting her hand to start removing dirt clumps from Bea’s hair instead.

“Chaos…mind…so full,” Beatrix utters in between gasps, immediately followed by arching her back and pressing her shoulders into the mattress. “Can’t…focus…” she adds before she lets out a short scream and clenches her eyes shut.

“What do I do!?” Stella turns around and looks at Terra who’s taken a few steps back and is clutching Flora’s hand. “You’re supposed to be smart, tell me what to do!” she lashes out at both of them, doesn’t want to, doesn’t mean it, but she’s desperate to find an answer.

“Hey!” Sam calls out, stepping forward towards her, but Silva grabs his shoulder while Flora shakes her head at him. “I’m no mind fairy…” the flower fairy starts, hesitantly. “But it seems as if her mind is too crowded…too active?”

“Good thinking Flora,” Professor Harvey nods at her. “I can give her some concentrated valerian and chamomile extract, but only a small dose. Too much and it will likely do more harm than help.” He turns around and starts gathering and preparing the ingredients, with Terra quickly joining him at the table to help.

Beatrix is shaking violently, whimpering as her limbs repeatedly jerk at her binds. Stella puts her hands on one of her arms and starts to gently circle her thumbs over the dry and slightly muddy skin while whispering soothing words.

She isn’t even sure the girl can hear her, but she seems to miraculously calm down a little at the repeated motion of the light fairy’s fingers. Professor Harvey returns to the other side of the bed, tapping a small syringe half filled with a greenish-yellow substance.

“Wait, I think…I think she just needs a distraction” Stella says. Beatrix seems to have calmed down immensely, even though she’s still whimpering and her eyes are staying shut. “Might as well try,” she mumbles, and before anyone can stop her she rises and reaches forward, both hands cupping the air fairy’s face.

It’s a desperate move, but it’s all she can think of. She doesn’t know if Beatrix would even consent to this if she would’ve been able to, a pang of doubt telling her she maybe should’ve at least tried asking first, but she’s already doing it and now it’s too late. She revels at the fact that she’s even able to kiss the air fairy at all and wishes it would’ve been in a better setting, a different, less critical one. 

The remnants of dirt on Beatrix’s mouth certainly take away from the experience, but her mind rejoices as the girl responds to the kiss by moving her lips against Stella’s, the gut-wrenching moans and cries dying at their touch. Her body stills, no longer seizing and rattling the entire bed.

Quiet sobs begin to rise from deep down the air fairy's throat, and Stella feels her hands slowly becoming wet. Alarmed, she pulls back immediately.

“No, no, I’m so sorry Bea,” she starts panicky. “I was just…I thought…”

“Oh shut up,” Beatrix whispers shakily as her eyes flutter open. She smirks, though the tears still steadily roll down her cheeks. “Way to kill the mood, Solaria.”

Stella starts to laugh, but halfway through her body diverts to a sob. She presses her forehead to the air fairy’s, as they both smile through their tears.

“You can put that syringe away now, Professor,” Beatrix says eventually. Stella shoots back up, blushing at the realization that they just had a small audience witness their…exchange.

Professor Harvey coughs softly as he meets eyes with the headmaster for a second. “I’ll need to fully examine you though, Beatrix. It’s not every day that a fairy rises from the dead. You’re quite the miracle.”

“If you must,” the air fairy grimaces. Sam and Flora step forward to untie her wrists and ankles, and she groans as she rubs her freed but severely reddened skin. She smiles thankfully at the three earth fairies who proceed to leave the greenhouse after a nod from Headmaster Silva.

“I’ll stay with you,” Stella says, not even asking for permission from the professor or headmaster. She won’t be parted from her.

Never again.

~ Ask me more ~

#kiss prompts #stellatrix #angst and fluff #me enjoying writing these is becoming a trend #ftws #ftws stella #ftws beatrix #number prompts #ask meme #my writing

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Free Day Thursday

We return to Meddling Mar, with a quick content warning for a depiction of a panic/anxiety attack

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

Dr. Petros returned on Jak’s fourth day in the convalescence ward. First he checked Mar, peering down his throat and into his ears like he was hoping to find something. After some five or six minutes, a strange device was produced and set against Mar's chest while the other ends went in Petros's ears.

"What's he doing?" Jak asked Daxter in a low voice.

"Checking his pulse." Daxter reclined on the pillow and yawned. "You put the doodads in your ears and the tube thingy makes pulses sound louder. He let M- er, Seek try it on me."

"It's cold!" Mar complained, too preoccupied with the checkup to fuss at Daxter over the new nickname.

"Not if you have fur!" Daxter answered smugly.

Petros took the pulse-listening thing out of his ears and patted Mar's back.

"That's a nice, healthy, heartbeat. Your temperature is good, but your throat is a little dry. I want you to drink more water today and tomorrow. Okay?"

Then he gathered up his gear and moved over to Jak’s cot. "Alright young man! It's your turn!"

Jak recoiled. "Uh...I'll pass."

The doctor gave him an amused look. "If you don't get it done now, I'll have to come back and do it tomorrow. And you can't have your evaluation done until I give you a clean bill of health!"

Reluctantly, Jak shifted on the bed and let the doctor shine his nasty little light into his eyes. And just as Mar had complained, the pulse-listening thing was cold. Petros poked and prodded while Jak just barely restrained the urge to snap. It would have been easy: Petros was a frail older man-

So was Kor-

And just like that, Jak was back in the nest. Too far from Mar to save him. Surrounded by dark eco and hordes of parasites that fed on it and anything else they could catch.

His wounds from that chaotic battle were long healed, but in that moment Jak felt the pain of every blow, even the snapped wrist he'd suffered.

Little claws dug into his bare arms, dragging him from the nest with a strength only Daxter possessed.

"Breathe! Deep breaths, big guy, deep breaths!" he continued to squeeze Jak’s arm. "Stay with me, buddy. I'm right here."

Something cold and hard was slipped into his hand, and someone folded his fingers down over it.

"Hold that against your face a moment."

Petros bent sideways to peer through Jak's tunnel vision.

"Then, when you can get a good look at it, tell me what color it is."

Another test? Now was not the time! Jak gritted his teeth and fought the pinching in his lungs to breathe. He clenched a fist, then frowned.

Smooth. Round. Glass?

Jak slowly opened his fist and found a small brown marble laying in his palm. Where had that come from?!

"Uh...a...brown marble?" he said slowly.

Petros nodded briskly. "Good! Good. Now, find something else brown and tell me what it is?"

Jak stared at him as if he'd lost his mind.

"Why?"

"Because!" the elderly doctor answered cheerfully, "It connects your mind to the here and now, and then your body can follow it out of the panic once you're properly grounded."

"Ugh. The...the shelf, I guess?"

It took several tries and several "find a color" type tasks for Jak to begin calming his breathing and his heart. And, strange as it seemed, the doctor's little marble trick was helping. It could've been the texture, or it could have been the physical sensation tying him to the present, he wasn't certain. At least his lungs didn't feel as pinched.

"How...how did you know to do that?" he asked quietly, handing the marble back.

Petros shook his head and pressed the marble back into Jak's hand.

"The wastelands are harsh," he said, and smiled sadly. "We do have enemies outside these walls who take prisoners when they can. And sometimes when we get those people back, there are lasting echoes of what they endured."

Jak flexed his hands and grimaced. "Uh...right. Thanks, I guess. Can we stop now? I'm fine."

"No you're not." Petros said kindly, but sat back. "You've been trapped in a very awful place for longer than anyone should be. Your body might be healing as fast as a monk's, but your heart will take longer to mend."

He pursed his lips and looked stern.

"Especially if you weren't given proper care and protection before."

"Protection?"

Jak scoffed and folded his arms.

"Nobody protects me. I protect everyone else. That's just how it is."

Petros looked to Daxter for some kind of explanation, but the ottsel just shook his head with a grim look. The boy spoke the truth then. Well, if the Havenites had been forcing him to be a human shield, repeatedly, that would certainly account for the scarring and malnutrition. With a disapproving hum, Petros scribbled his observations down in his datapad.

At this rate, he couldn't even recommend Jak for the chores other teenagers were assigned until he was a little better adjusted. If the boy were older, he would have had Maud recommend the standard treatment for prisoners of war rescued from the Marauders. But ultimately that would be Lord Damas’s call, not his.

"Do you think you can tell me what made you react like that?" Petros asked, "For everyone's safety, physical and mental, we doctors need to know what to avoid."

Jak turned his face away and scowled.

"It's not you," he said sharply. "You're going about this like I'm made of glass. I'm not gonna snap." Probably.

Petros wasn’t, really. Spargus was a pretty no-nonsense city, and most folk didn't waste time babying each other. But this kid thought that even just the standard duty of care was unusually gentle? Had he recalled whatever passed for medical care in Haven?

Petros thanked his lucky stars he'd never had the misfortune of living in Haven. A more wretched hive of scum and villainy he'd have been hard-pressed to find.

"Well, how about this. If something sets off a trigger for you, try to tell us, and we'll work around it the next time," Petros suggested.

Jak stared at him, and even the ottsel sat up with a bewildered expression.

"Work around it?" Daxter asked, "You're not gonna tell us to just suck it up?"

This time it was Petros who stared.

"I may not be a doctor for minds," he scoffed, "but I know enough to say that "suck it up" is not going to help you at all! Did the king tell you boys our city motto yet?"

Jak picked at the blankets and shrugged. "Survival through unity or something, right?"

"Precisely!" Petros nodded so hard his glasses almost fell off. "We are all linked, one strong chain. What do you think happens if a link in the chain gets damaged? Do you tell it to "suck it up", or work to repair it?"

This was clearly a rhetorical question, as he plowed on without stopping.

"If you want the whole chain to survive, that means taking care of the individual links!"

"Tch." Jak glanced back up at him with a bittersweet expression. "I'll believe it when I see it."

The doctor's ire faded some, and he smiled, equally bittersweet. "I hope you do. This is not a soft city, and we have no great luxuries here. But I can at least assure you that we'll never make you handle everything alone."

Then he cleared his throat and flipped through his notes.

"You're recovering well from your brush with heatstroke," he said. "I think you can start going outside a bit -- morning and evening only! I don't want any of you three rascals outside during the hottest part of the day until your bodies adjust to the climate!"

Jak decided that this was surprisingly fair.

"Okay, but...how do we actually get outside?"

He gestured around the ward.

"I've been a grand total of twenty paces from this bed so far."

The doctor stood and brushed off his tunic. "Tonight, someone will take you upstairs to meet with Lord Damas for an evaluation. Those usually double as orientations, so you'll get a map while you're there."

Mar slipped across the alcove and hoisted himself up onto the bed beside Jak. With raised brows, he said, "You keep talking about a "evaluation". What are we being evaluated for?"

Petros bent down and began organizing his gear and notes into the red bag he'd brought with him.

"Well, my little friend," he grunted, "You'll be evaluated for a variety of things. Level of education, whether you're self-sufficient or require a guardian, particular skills or areas of interest- little things like that to give the king an idea of where in the city you'll fit best."

Daxter nudged Jak and gave him a meaningful look. He narrowed his eyes and flicked his ears backwards to mimic the shape of horns.They didn't even have to sign; it was a signal the two often used in battle.

Dark eco mode

Jak knew what Daxter was asking.

"Do we let them know about dark mode or not?"

Granted, there was value in getting out ahead of the shock, the disgust that came with being an eco freak. If he told them about it beforehand, Jak could control the narrative. If Haven had taught him anything, it was the importance of not letting someone else tell a version of your story before you could.

But on the other hand, Jak couldn’t remember the last time he'd been treated like just another kid. Even Sig didn’t count, seeing as they never got to hang out in a context not related to Krew. Why should Jak ruin the only respite he'd ever been granted? Why not cling to it for as long as he could?

"How do these evaluations usually go?" Daxter demanded. He gnawed on a hangnail and tapped his paw.

"If anyone -- anyone -- tries to assign us to sewer duty, I riot!"

Petros giggled, a surprisingly childish sound.

"Sewer duty?" he laughed, "Do you have experience with plumbing or water treatment?"

Daxter fidgeted. "N- no?"

"Then I don't think you need to worry about the sewers."

Petros shuffled out of the ward, chuckling softly. "Sewer duty-!"

The boys sat quietly for a few seconds, watching the old man go. Then Jak shrugged and flopped back onto the bed and held the marble up to the light. What an odd duck. Compared to Haven -- or even to Samos -- Dr. Petros took a "kid gloves" approach to his bedside manner. Either that or that was just how doctors for civilians acted normally.

"Hey."

Jak lowered the marble and raised his eyebrows. Mar didn't verbalize much -- if at all. But he knew how to get his brother's attention if he needed to.

"What?"

The smaller boy shifted his weight back and forth. He twisted the fabric of one sleeve around his fingers, brows low and brimming with questions. Mar quirked his lips to one side, then sighed.

"You looked really scared."

Jak tensed. "I'm not scared," he muttered.

Mar frowned. "You looked scared though. What were you thinking about?"

"None of your business."

Daxter elbowed him. "Jak," he hissed, slightly disapproving.

"Well maybe it is my business!" Mar thumped the bed in emphasis. "Maybe I'll remember when I'm your age and it'll scare me too!"

Annoyance plucked on Jak’s nerves like a spiderweb. He propped himself up on his elbows and narrowed his eyes at Mar.

"Do you remember what happened right before I put you in the Rift Rider?" he asked.

After a second, Mar hesitantly shook his head.

Jak scoffed. "Good."

"But am I gonna remember it?"

"You weren't even awake during the worst stuff. You're not gonna remember."

"But I'm you! Right?"

Dropping back to the pillow, Jak rolled to face the wall. "No. You're not. And you're not going to be. Not if I can help it."

Daxter winced at the hurt look on Mar's face. He stretched over Jak to pat the little boy's sleeve.

"Hey, hey, don't take it like that, kid! You wouldn't wanna live the life we've lived. We had fun when we were little, sure, but it wasn't a normal childhood."

He squeezed Mar's arm with a sympathetic grimace. "We wantcha to be a real kid, bud. Not...whatever we had."

Things were quiet, and even a bit tense between the boys for the rest of the afternoon. Mar was sulking, and Jak was brooding again. Daxter wished his arms were long enough to smack them both upside the head at the same time. If he'd ever had doubts that Mar was Jak’s childhood self, he certainly didn't now. Hopping between beds to keep Mar entertained and check on Jak’s mental state was exhausting when your legs were the approximate length of a four year old's.

#fic prompts #writing prompts #jak and daxter #jak and daxter mar #meddling mar au #free day thursday #in my head Dr. Petros is the voice of the inimitable James Hong #jak is being a moody teenager and mar doesn’t get it #tw panic attack #tw anxiety attack #this chapter was filler but serves a purpose