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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 5 months

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@steddiemas Day 7 - Mall and/or Job

pairing: steddie | word count: 1,884 | rated: G

“Munson Residence, wha'd’ya want?” Eddie groans into the receiver.

Whoever this is better be someone super fucking important to have woken him up with their damn ringing. He’s surprised Wayne didn’t wake up too, but it’d be kinda hard to hear the phone over those snores.

“Eddie! Thank god,”

Oh. Steve! Very important, actually.

“Oh, hey Steve, what’s up?”

“Eddie, can you do me a huge favor?”

“Yeah, of course, what’s wrong?” he immediately spirals into what all could have gone wrong, what could be going wrong. Everything dark blue and cold, vine-y and the flashing of red lightning—

“Nothing, nothing–well, something.. Can you please run to my place later today and grab my lunch? I forgot it this morning and I know I’m not going to be able to run back and get it and get back in time to eat it before my break is over.”

“Your lunch?” “Yeah, I packed one this morning but left it on the counter. There’s a key under the mat and everything.” Eddie barks out a laugh, “Tryin’ to get robbed, big guy?”

“I don’t care about any of the shit in that house.” Steve scoffs. He shrugs even though Steve can’t see him. “Fair enough. Sure Stevie, I’ll bring your lunch; when do you want me there?” “Dude, you’re the best; My lunch break is right at noon, can you be here just before then?”

“Got it. Five to noon at Family Video.” he drawls out as if he’s writing the information down.

“Uh, actually…not Family Video..”

A short two hours later, Eddie finds himself among a throng of people inside Melvald’s. He has to fight his way forward at first, but the crowd thins out as he gets closer to the registers.

Damn, he’s not even that far into the store and he feels like he’s ran a mile.

“Ms. Byers!”

“Oh! Hello Eddie, what brings you here?” “Steve called and asked if I could drop off his lunch to him. Do you know where he is? I didn’t even know he was working here.”

Joyce just grins at him. It’s weirdly mischievous. “Only temporarily, he’s near the back of the store. Just head back there and I’m sure you’ll find him.”

“Uh..thanks. See ya later Ms. B.”

He wanders toward the back of the store through the aisles, but stops up short when a fake white picket fence blocks his path.

The whole back corner of the store has been covered in fake felt snow, a couple of those fake plastic trees like Steve’s (though these are a normal size), a candy-striped ‘North Pole’, and dozens of paper snowflakes hang from the ceiling between what seems like hundreds of string lights.

And there, sitting in the middle of it on a throne that looks suspiciously like the one he used to use during Hellfire, is Steve. Dressed in a Santa suit. With long white beard, big ol’ belt and buckle, shiny black boots..

“Psst!”

He’s got something stuffed into his Santa jacket to give him the right shape, and even some small half-moon glasses, but those sparkling eyes, the freckles, that one swoop of brown hair stubbornly sticking out from under the fuzzy brim of his hat, that’s all Steve.

“Eddie!”

Santa Steve is fully enraptured by whatever story the kid on his knee is telling him, their hands waving every which way but somehow missing smacking Santa right in the face. Steve just continues to nod along, then gives them a hearty “Ho Ho Ho!” when they try to squeeze their tiny arms around his fake belly.

“Eddie!!”

He glances over at the sound of his name, and sees Robin waving frantically at him from her spot at old school music stand-turned-podium. She’s got on some sort of outfit that honestly looks like it was supposed to be a jester costume, where’d she even get that from?

His feet start toward her, but his eyes fall back on Steve Claus, now posing for a picture with the kid who’s smiling so wide it looks like his face will split in half.

Managing to take his eyes off Steve for a moment, he sees Jonathan behind the camera, and that Argyle kid is crouched in front of Robin, talking to the next kid in line to see Santa. All three of them are wearing matching jester costumes.

Eddie steps up to her podium after Argyle and the new kid pass in front of him to see Steve, “Family Video not paying enough, Birdie?”

She rolls her eyes, “Well, the extra cash doesn’t hurt. Joyce asked us to help out.”

He nods at her, and finds his eyes drifting back to Santa Steve.

This kid is much more shy than the last one, tilting her head down and taking short glances up at Steve’s face.

Steve is saying something to her, a low comforting sound that Eddie can only make out the tone of. His one hand covers the entirety of her upper back, and his thumb is moving up and down to try and soothe her nerves. His head is ducked down to be more level with her, looking at her over those half-moon glasses.

Suddenly, the girl’s head snaps up and Steve leans back a bit. “Yeah?” he hears him say.

The girl grins, nodding her head like crazy, then she too is squeezing Steve into a hug. It’s so unfairly endearing, he can actually feel his heart swelling in his chest.

Robin speaks up then, “So..?”

“So?” he repeats dumbly.

“So wha’d’ya think, Munson?”

“Does he need a Mr. Claus?”

He regrets the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth.

“Uh, wait, I mean Mrs.–Do you have— is someone going to—”

Eddie chances a look over at her…she’s wearing a smug, shit-eating grin. She leans toward him conspiratorially and mumbles out “I wouldn’t mind a Mrs. Claus myself.”

She leans back, still looking smug, but there’s a note of panic in her eyes.

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “So would he.” he mumbles out himself, jerking his chin towards Steve.

Robin only shrugs “You never know.”

“You never—what do you know, Buckley?” he asks, stepping closer and pointing an accusing finger into her still smug face.

“I know that there’s some mistletoe hanging above the breakroom door.”

He’s confused for just a moment, then understanding floods through him, “You little—”

A short whistle interrupts his incoming tirade, and Eddie can see Steve Claus moving out of the corner of his eye.

“Sorry folks, it’s time for Santa’s Cookie break!” Robin calls out over the long line of people. “He’ll be back in 30 minutes though, don’t you worry!” the smile falls off her face as soon as she turns her back to them.

Eddie follows her, Jonathan, and Argyle toward the back rooms, “I’m gonna take a nap.” She says, “Tell Santa to grab me before he goes back.” She waves toward a door as she passes it and from the sprig of greenery hanging above it, this must be the breakroom.

Robin takes a right down a turn in the hall, and Jon and Argyle push out the back door of the building.

He expects more of the same when he opens the door to the breakroom, for Steve to huff and grouse about the kids or the parents or something, but when he does, Steve is grinning ear to ear as he combs through his (now removed) fake beard.

“Hey Santa Stevie.”

“Eds!”

“I’ve got your lunch.” he holds up the brown paper bag for Steve to see. Steve nods, and lays the beard out on an empty chair, taking off his hat and glasses too and setting them both on top before stepping forward to grab the bag. “And you have hat hair.” Eddie laughs.

Steve’s free hand jumps to his head and scruffs up the long hairs, making them stick up every which way instead of just being plastered down on his forehead.

“Better?”

“Sure, big guy.” Eddie pokes Steve’s fake belly.

Steve chuckles, then heads to a table in the corner where he dumps out his lunch bag.

“So what’d Past Steve pack for Future Steve?” Eddie asks, plopping down in a chair kitty-corner from Steve’s. “Bologna and mustard sandwich, Doritos, and half of a leftover Hellfire cookie.”

“And a Coke,” Eddie says, taking a can out of his jacket pocket, “I grabbed one for you from your fridge.”

“Thanks, Eddie.” Steve smiles warmly at him. “You want some?”

“No way dude, you gotta get your energy back after dealing with all those kids, right?” Eddie says, waving him off.

“Eh, some of them are little assholes, but most of them are really well behaved.” he’s ripping his sandwich in half, “Gotta impress Santa, right?”

He offers him one half, and Eddie takes it.

“It’s really not a bad gig, though the beard is itchy as hell…”

Steve starts talking about some of the kids who have come by in the last couple days of them doing this, having started on that past Monday, the 1st.

There were the kids asking for baseball bats, Lincoln Logs, Malibu Barbie, Rockstar Barbie (“Barbie’s a rockstar now?”, “Barbie can be anything, I guess.”), all the usual things.

Then there were kids that asked for actual Santa stuff, “I don’t want my mom and dad to get a divorce.”, “I wish I had some friends.”, “I want my grandpa to get better.”

“Makes me wish I actually was Santa, y’know? Then maybe I could actually help them.”

Eddie’s heart is definitely getting way too fuckin’ big for his chest.

He puts his hand on Steve’s forearm where it’s resting on the table between them. “You are a good man, Steve Harrington.”

Steve’s face flushes nearly as red as his suit. “Thanks, Eddie.” he glances above Eddie’s head then, “I better go wake up Robin, if she naps too long on top of the potatoes, she gets cranky.”

Eddie snorts out a laugh, “Yeah, better get on that.”

Steve stands up and tugs on his hat, not bothering to put on the beard and glasses yet. The fuzzy white band smushes a lock of his hair onto his forehead.

“Hold on,” Eddie stands as well, reaching forward to tuck the hair under the bottom of Steve’s hat. “Now you’ll be ready to see your adoring public.”

“Thanks,” Steve laughs, walking with him toward the door.

And of course, Eddie forgot all about the damn mistletoe until Steve’s arm stops him in the doorway.

‘Jesus H. Christ…’

He glances over at Steve, then up at the offending plant..

Eddie looks back down, out toward the rest of the store where they’d be clearly visible in the doorway.

“I guess you owe me one, huh big boy?” Eddie chuckles, ‘Stupid plant, stupid Robin, stupid Ed–’

His thoughts are cut off when Steve tugs him back into the breakroom, moves him against the wall, and leans down to press a kiss to his cheek. The opposite to the kiss he’d given Steve three weeks ago.

Steve leans back, a smirk on his lips and a pink flush on his face. “Now we’re even.” he winks, then turns out the door to wake up Robin.

i may have actually kicked my feet and giggled about this one lmao

also, rockstar barbie mentioned here is from the 1986 Barbie and The Rockers set

also, also, i'm getting rid of the 'pre' before the steddie up top, you all know what's happening and where this is going lol - it's steddie.

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zazter-den · 7 months

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Foul-Mouthed Frit | Stained Glass Circumstances Ch. 1

Series: Snippet #1, Snippet #2, Current

Synopsis- All stained glass begins as frit, but you're not as frit of the warrior in front of you as you probably should be.(Main Scene: Bakugou, Aftercare: Kirishima).

Warnings- Coerced NonCon, Oral Knotting, CumVom, Choking, Clothes Tearing, Degradation, Overstim, Org Denial, Slap(giving), Forced Bond, King/Consort Dynamic, Alt A/B/O, Yandere Bakugou.

Tags- Fantasy AU, BarbarianKing!Bakugou, Dragon!Kirishima, KingConsort!Reader, Black Haired Reader, Isekai, Creampie, Chin Grab, Excessive Seed, Aftercare.

Word Count- 7700, Chapter 1

Your heart thumped against your ribs, unease and curiosity battling it out, as you stood before the imposing blond warrior. On a good day, you couldn't help but feel out of place in the simple hand-me-down dress, a one of few mercies you received from the cold villagers when you arrived. Standing here in front of the decorated barbarian within the confines of the grandiose war tent, you felt dressed in little more than rags. Was this man here to finish the villager's sad attempt at uprising? Surely non-lethal injuries to a handful of soldiers, even if severe, didn't warrant a general's (or whoever's) presence.

Why am I here? I wasn't even involved.

The bodice of the scratchy dress felt nearly too tight to breathe, a physical pressure to match the growing weight of dread settling in your bones. It had been a month since your watery arrival to this world, but it hadn't taken long to miss your modern clothes, modern stressors, and the familiarity of home. A pang of longing shot through you like a static shock, but you pushed it aside, focusing on the intimidating figure ahead.

A shiver ran down your spine as you met the blond's piercing blood red gaze. His throne, made from the bones of fallen beasts long dead and a patterned patchwork of leather, only amplified the imposing aura surrounding him. With each passing moment, you couldn't help but feel like a small, insignificant creature in the presence of a predator.

"Pint-sized for a dragon, aren't ya?" the barbarian growled, his gruff voice boomed in the tense silence, tone heavy with amused disdain. A predatory smirk adorned his face, highlighting his intimidating yet undeniably attractive features. "You're quite the fuckin' anomaly."

Your eyes widened at his words, and for a moment you forgot your unease. You had become so used to the weight by this point that you honestly almost forgot. A hand instinctively went to touch the base of the draconic crystal horns that jutted back from your hairline, a bizzarre feature you had woken to on the lake shore, a side effect of the magic that had forced your entry to this unfamiliar world.

All of the lakeside villagers were human, but you had learned enough about this world's inhabitants to know that that you weren't a true dragon like the ones the citizens of this realm were familiar with—those with wings, a tail, and true dragon features. You are, at your core, still human, and really the horns were the only evidence to suggest otherwise. The asshole wasn't entirely wrong in calling you a mystery.

"Can tell you're no real dragon, some sorta bastard maybe" he remarked, rumbly voice smug. "Though I admit, those crystal horns of yours are intriguing 'nough. You'll pass as an addition to my collection."

You blinked once, twice, as you struggled for a mere second to process the words coming out of the pompous man's mouth before time seemed to resume again.

Should you have been scared? Probably.

But you weren't.

Your eyes narrowed to near slits with incredulity as you peered up at him. White hot anger filled your veins, fear of the undoubtedly dangerous strange warrior forgotten. Being a newcomer to the realm, you couldn't quite comprehend the gravity of the situation in standing before the man in front of you. Being an outsider to the village and their rebellion, also meant you weren't aware yet just how low cowards will sink to save their own skin.

" 'Collection'? " You repeated, scoffing loudly at his arrogance. The gall of him had your nerves shot and common sense short circuiting. All pretenses of appearing as a polite peasant were now firmly out the window, all bets were off. After a month of biting your tongue to rude villagers as you struggled to adjust to your new life, it felt amazing to spit exactly what you were thinking. "Who the fuck do you think you are, blondie?”

The fair haired barbarian's grin only widened at your boldness, relishing the rare occurance. It wasn't often someone had a big enough death wish to challenge him face to face.

"O, sweetheart, not just any 'blondie'," he sneered, weighing the weight his words had on you. "I'm yer fuckin' king." Enjoying the way shock washed over your face, anger clearly forgotten, overshadowed by the realization that you were standing before the most dangerous man in the kingdom.

King Bakugou's amusement was evident as he leaned forward in his seat, his eyes gleaming with sadistic satisfaction at your dumbstruck face. "D'ya wanna know why you're standin' in front of me?" he asked, his tone dripping with condescension. "They offered ya to me, little anomaly," the barbaric royal continued, the corners of his lips curling into a cruel smile. "A barter for their miserable lives after a pitiful 'scuse of a rebellion."

You were shocked, your eyes meeting his with furious disbelief. "So, people I barely know, GAVE me to you to spare themselves?" your words were laced with anger and a sense of betrayal, unable to comprehend the depths of their craven desperation. Sure, they were cold to strangers, but to sacrifice you for their own lives wasn't something you had thought was even a possibility. Had it really been so foolish to want to believe they were finally warming up to you?

The barbarian king's expression hardened as he replied, his voice laced with a sharp edge. "Ya should feel honored," he snapped, his blood red eyes narrowing. Rising from his intimidating throne of giant bone and beast hide, he closed the distance between them with a purposeful stride. The sound of his heavy boots thudded against the packed ground within the war tent until he loomed over you.

“I rarely take consorts,” King Bakugou's hand shot out and firmly grasped your chin, tilting your head up to meet his piercing gaze. His touch was harsh, a firm reminder of the physical might that Bakugou wielded when he so chose. Your heart pounding in your chest as his fingernails dug into your jawline. Leaning in close, his face mere inches away from yours, his voice dropped to a low, dangerous rumble as he continued speaking. “especially not runt freaks like you." The disdain in the cold blooded king's tone sent a chill down your spine.

Your heart dropped, The weight of the revelation pressed heavy against your chest. Mind racing with anger and betrayal as you grappled with the harsh reality of your situation. You had only been in this unfamiliar realm for barely a few weeks and now you stood before the formidable barbarian king, a man who held the power of life and death over countless warriors and civilians alike.

It didn't take years of education, or really much common sense, to know the dangerous consequences of defying a medieval tyrant. You knew you had to keep your anger in check, to try to bite your tongue and submit. At least for now.

Your fate was sealed the moment you stepped into that fucking tent, and survival was now officially the priority.

King Bakugou's sadistic enjoyment of the situation was plain as he ruthlessly analyzed your appearance, his gaze lingering on the translucent crystal horns with an almost dismissive glance. "Yer horns are clear, nothin' special," he remarked, his voice dripping with annoyance. It was clear that your unique crystalline features held little significance in his opinion. However, as his eyes roamed down your body, a more sinister gleam sparked within them.

"Body, on the other hand, is fine enough for a concubine," the blond added with a twisted smirk, his grip on your chin tightening slightly. The shift of the dress' neckline sent a shiver down your spine, baring your shoulder to his inspection. Your heart beat faster as King Bakugou's piercing eyes bore into you, his actions invasive and dehumanizing. Your throat constricted in response to the humiliating position you found yourself in. Even having to resist the urge to pull your chin away from his grasp, knowing that defiance would only lead to suffering of some variety.

His eyes swept over your neck and shoulder, searching for any sign of a scar, any indication that you already belonged to another. You kept your gaze to the side, unnerved by the intensity of his bloody stare, a shiver rippled down your spine as his touch almost seemed to burn your skin.

"Good," he declared, a twisted smile tugging at his lips as his hot breath ghosting over the exposed skin. "No claim."

King Bakugou wasted no time in closing the remaining distance. Swiftly leaning down, he sank his canines into the smooth flesh with a forceful bite. However, unlike true mating, the barbaric blond did not release the necessary venom that would solidify an actual bond between souls.

The lack of numbing venom caused a sharp hiss to escape your lips, a mix of agony and indignation flooding your system. You might not have been here long and you certainly were no expert, but you knew the basics of mating marks, this world's lifelong courtship. It was a deliberate move, a clear reinforcement that he had no intentions of making you his equal partner in this arrangement. After all, you were merely a plaything, to be toyed with. You should be thankful not to be bound to the barbarian's soul, and yet you couldn't ignore the obvious insult. Or the pain.

The unexpected stabbing pain of fang sinking into flesh triggered a reflexive response, causing you to shove and slap Bakugou's face in a desperate attempt to free yourself from his grasp. The crack of your palm connecting with his cheek seemed to echo in the massive war tent, leaving a bright red handprint in its wake and a streak of crimson trailing down the king's chin.

The barbarian's eyes glowed with fierce delight, his feral nature taking enjoyment in the defiance of his new concubine. Despite the stinging pain in his cheek and the split in the corner of his upper lip from the strike, a low chuckle escaped King Bakugou's lips. "You've got guts, shitty horns, I'll give ya that much" he growled, his voice laced with a dark amusement as his tongue flicked over his split lip.

If you thought your heart was racing before, it certainly paled to the drumbeat it was pounding now.

You had dared to challenge the king, to strike him in a moment of instinct. If the tyrant himself marched to this village over a few maimed soldiers, what exactly was your punishment going to be? A part of you regretted the impulsive action, aware that it would only fuel the bestial nature of the tyrant and likely add to your own suffering...But another part of you couldn't suppress the thrill that surged through you when you slapped the shit out of him. You might be trapped in this new situation but you refused to be completely meek, cowering at his feet.

You would submit. But only as much as you had to.

As King Bakugou's wicked chuckle echoed in the confines of the tent, he swiped away the droplets of blood that trickled down his split lip, relishing in the taste. "Spirited whore, ha?" he continued with a dangerous glint in his eyes. "You'll learn. 'Til then, I'm gonna enjoy breaking that attitude of yours."

Your breathing grew shallow as you just stared at the king, mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. You knew full well that true defiance would only bring more challenges, but still a small ember of resistance burned. You would not surrender completely, no matter the threat. And even bolstered with the courage of the dissociative haze that emotionally numbed you to the consequences of your actions, you still knew the danger was very real.

The red glistening imprint of his bite marked your delicate skin, a reminder of his sadistic tendencies and the cruel pleasure he derived from such acts. Your body trembled in frustration, mind grappling with the complex storm of emotions that threatened to take over reason. You may have to play the role forced on you but you would bide your time, until the opportunity presented itself.

And so began the balancing act.

"Your position, in this territory," the warrior king continued, his voice dripping with gruff superiority, "is t'be at my beck and call. You exist to serve my needs now, like any other fuckin' whore. An' rest assured, you will serve me well." With those words, he spun you around and pressed your abdomen hard against the tent's solid wood table, his hands gripping your hips possessively.

"Lemme show you your new role," Bakugou sneered, voice filled with dark promise. With one swift motion, he pulled the rough dress up to rest on your hips, baring your body to his gaze. His eyes hungrily took in your curves, his fingers ran up the exposed skin of your thighs and hips. Feeling his rough fingers trail over the sensitive areas of your thighs, you could feel yourself getting lost in the intensity of the touch.

The sound of fabric tearing filled the air as King Bakugou ripped apart the too-tight bodice, buttons popping off as your breasts spilled free from the barely reinforced fabric. His knees pressed painfully firm against the back of yours, effortlessly spreading your shaky legs apart. The motion trapped your hips against the edge of the table and exposed your pussy to to his gaze. Breath hitched as you felt the large tip of his hardened cock pressing against your slick entrance. Every inch of your body tensed. Judging from the thickness of his head alone, the lean warrior was larger than you expected him to be. Bakugou's girth tested your cunt's limits, forced to stretch wide. Initial entry was rough, inch by inch, as your pussy's tight walls struggled to accommodate the impressive length of the barbaric king's dick. The pleasurable ache making you fight to maintain composure.

Leaning forward on your forearms for support, your chest squished against the cold surface of the table. Fingernails dug into the smooth wood, your knuckles turning white with each of Bakugou's punishing thrusts. An unexpected surge of arousal coursed through your veins, and you decided to embrace the inevitable pleasure that his pace promised to bring.

Despite your feelings on the turn of events, your body responded to his coarse treatment, for the distracting orgasm and mind-numbing hormones that lay tantalizingly within reach. Determined to find some semblance of pleasure within your new prison, you forced yourself to shift your perspective. If you were going to be forced to be an object of desire, you may as well revel in the physical gratification it offered and claw back any benefit you could until you made your move.

As the table rocked against the packed dirt floor of the tent with each forceful thrust, the warrior royal couldn't resist mocking you. His voice was filled sadistic amusement. "Where'd all that fire go?" he taunted, amused by the contrast between your previous defiance and your current submissive state. "Don't tell me I already fucked it out of ya."

Your aching walls had struggled to accommodate his girth initially, causing you to tense up. You had to focus on consciously relaxing your body, allowing him to fuck you with more ease. The mixture of discomfort and increasing pleasure sent waves of heat coursing through your body, intensifying your arousal. At this point, you couldn't tell whether the fact that rough sex made your cunt leak like a faucet was a pro or a con.

You really couldn't help but snap back, voice loaded with a defiant edge. "You really like the sound of your own voice, huh, 'Your Highness'?" you quipped harshly, rolling your eyes knowing he would be unable to see, as you were swept up by the overwhelming pleasure of being fucked against the table.

Undeterred by your attempt at disrespect, Bakugou leaned forward over your bare back, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. The warrior king's voice dripped with amusement as he addressed your lack of fear. "You're really not scared of me, are ya?" the blond chuckled sharply, the feeling of his hot breath against your skin sending shivers down your spine. "Give it time," he sneered, his grip on your erect nipples tightening as he pinched and pulled. With a choked moan, your body arched instinctively in response, a symphony of conflicting sensations flooding your body.

Your black curls bounced with each punishing thrust, your body pressed against the dull edge of the table, the hard surface digging into your hips with a force that promised to leave bruised reminders of your afternoon in the days to come. The brutal intensity behind Bakugou's movements overwhelmed you, leaving you breathless and at his mercy.

Just when you thought you had found a rhythm, just when you though you were getting close to finally cumming- the royal bastard abruptly withdrew, his cock's sizeable head dragging along the walls of your dripping passage. A soft indignant gasp escaped your lips as the sudden emptiness left you yearning for release. Inner walls involuntarily clenched in a futile attempt to hold onto the fleeting pleasure, not that you would ever admit it out loud.

He took a moment to enjoy your needy frustration before thrusting back inside with renewed intensity. Each powerful movement caused your body to arch and quiver in response, teetering on the razor's edge between ecstasy and torment. Despite the lingering defiance in your heart, your cunt betrayed you, subconsciously craving the pleasure that Bakugou pounded into you. The aching bite at the junction of your neck felt hot, as your nipples squeezed between his vice-like fingers.

Your walls eagerly embraced the renewed pounding, tightening around him in a desperate attempt to hold onto the pleasure he provided. The overwhelming mixture of pain and pleasure sent shockwaves through your body, sparking sensations that threatened to consume entirely. As the table creaked under the combined weight, your gasps and moans filled the air, merging with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and groaning wood. The intensity of the king's pace, each thrust pushing you closer to cumming around the thick cock slamming in and out of your needy hole.

As your body neared the peak of pleasure, King Bakugou enjoyed the control he had over you, keeping that orgasm just out of reach. Each time you felt the pleasure building within you reach that breaking point, he would cruelly withdraw, denying you much needed relief. The frustration reached a boiling point,as your walls involuntarily clenched desperately around the thick ridge of his cockhead in a feeble attempt to keep it inside.

"Stop fucking teasing me!" you shot over your shoulder in irritation. The pleasure that coursed through your veins was distracting, clouding your mind and amplifying your need to cum. The denial of your orgasm left you on the edge in what felt like a perpetual state of yearning, body aching for the release that the feral blond held in his cruel grasp.

As King Bakugou repositioned himself, angling his thrusts to target your most sensitive spots, and the pleasurable torment of denial continued. The conflicting sensations pushed you further towards either heaven or hell. With how your legs trembled with both the overstimulation of your poor pussy's stretched walls and the unbearable need to cum, you weren't sure which you were closer to.

"Ha? Think ya forgot who serves who here," bloody eyes narrowing as he sneered, his arrogant tone held an unrestrained hunger. A wicked grin tugged at the corners of his lips as he drank in your frustration. He took great sadistic pleasure in this game. Knowing that, despite your protests, he had the power to bring you to the edge of cumming and keep. You. Trapped. There.

As the twisted dance between pleasure and denial continued, your body reacted eagerly to every movement, cunt walls fluttering near constantly in desperate need of fulfillment. Each time King Bakugou withdrew, your inner muscles clenched around the massive disappearing tip, another futile attempt to hold onto the pleasure that slipped through your grasp.

Wet, squelching sounds filled the air as he pounded back into your gushing pussy. The table beneath you was sticky with your juices, and his blood red gaze spotted a string of viscous slick suspended mid-air between the edge of the table and the packed dirt floor below.

With each turn of Bakugou's cruel cycle, a symphony of profanity spilled from your parted lips. Your body shook with the weight of unfulfilled lust, aching for the relief that seemed cruelly just out of reach. The rise and fall of your emotions danced in harmony with the motion of their bodies, humiliating frustration fueling your foul mouthed whimpers.

"'N fact," Bakugou laughed, gruff voice filled with sadistic glee, "I think that tongue o' yours has earned ya a punishment."

The barbarian's fingers curled around your quartz horns, his grip possessive and firm. As his grip tightened, you barely felt the dull ache spreading from the base of your horns through the haze of pleasure and overstimulation. The strain on your neck was evident, your head tilted back to reveal the garnet red bite print marring your exposed skin.

With a deliberate slowness, King Bakugou pulled back on your crystalline horns, his hold firmly guiding you until your upper body was no longer supported by the table's wooden surface. Weakened by the cruel cycle of ecstasy and denial imposed on you, your legs trembled with the effort to remain upright. The shift in position caused a head rush as you fought to remain standing upright. Turns out, you wouldn't need to fight that battle for long.

Using your horns as a guide, Bakugou yanked you down to kneel before him. Obediently following his command, your weakened knees sunk against the hard packed dirt beneath you. The shift in posture brought about a new level of submission, body now positioned at his feet, ready to fulfill the king's desires.

Bakugou's massive member hung heavy above you, his imposing figure towering over as he peered down with cruel superiority. "Ever get your mouth washed out with soap?" he sneered, a wicked grin stretching across his face.

With a snarky retort already forming on the tip of your tongue, you opened your mouth to deliver a biting response. However, in that moment of distraction, the massive cock head shoved past your lips, the sudden intrusion catching you off-guard. A muffled gag sound escaped your throat, eyes widening in surprise as King Bakugou claimed your mouth with little mercy. Musk filled your senses, the unexpected violation left you momentarily stunned. Your eyes watered as you struggled to accommodate his size, jaw stretched to its limits while King Bakugou hissed in pleasure at the feel of your hot tongue against his dick.

A gasp of surprise escaped your lips, muffled by Bakugou's large cock as he took advantage of the opening you unwittingly provided and began to thrust. The rough motion caused your tongue to press against the underside of the massive member, tasting both of you. The initial shock gave way to a mix of conflicting sensations - humiliation, arousal, and a begrudging surrender.

Your throat constricted around the tip of his dick as you fought against your body's instinctive gag reflex. The taste of your combined arousal filled your mouth, the combination of his precum and your own slick coating your tongue with every thrust. With each attempt, guided by the iron grip he held on your crystalline horns, you managed to swallow a little more of his length, throat stretching in an attempt to accommodate his girth. The barbaric king's control remained unyielding. He roughly guided your movements with an unwavering grip on your horns, forcing the pace at which you took him deeper. The sight of your struggle only made him grip you tighter, setting a faster pace.

You looked good, all fuckdrunk at his feet, submitting to his desires without question.

With each inch you took down your throat, your breathing became increasingly labored. Your eyes flitted upwards as much as possible, trying to meet his gaze as you continued to obey his every command. Teary eyes pleaded for mercy, yearning for the release that was just out of reach, as you continued to let King Bakugou's thrust into your throat. Bakugou locked gazes with you. It wasn't that he ignored your pitiful puppy eyes, all watery and unfocused, but it didn't certainly have the outcome you were begging for. His pace sped up, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he approached his climax.

Your eyes narrowed in confusion and as you felt a new ridge near the base of his cock begin to swell. It took you by surprise, lips forced to start to form an O-shape as you struggled to comprehend what was happening. You mumbled uselessly around the resulting barrier, only managing to press your tongue harder against the enlarged gland.

"Never seen an alpha before?" King Bakugou asked incredulously, the tone of his voice heavy with pompous amusement. "Ya really are a fuckin' freak, this'll be fun" he added, sadistically excited for the surprise in store for you.

The swelling knot created a tight seal against your teeth, effectively trapping your tongue in a frenzy of desperate, frantic movements. As his lust hit a peak, Bakugou looked down at you with dark satisfaction, the intensity of his gaze piercing into your very being. His words cut through the pounding of blood in your ears, his mean grin widening.

"Y're gonna want to breathe through your nose when ya can," he instructed as his hips started to stutter, cruel grin never faltering. "For the next ten minutes at least." He took great joy in the power he held over you, knowing full well the challenge he was about to present. His groans of pleasure were the only warning of his orgasm that you got besides the pulse of his knot, before waves of warm cum were cascading down your throat. You fought against the rising panic, you just needed to relax you told yourself. The taste of his seed flooded the back of your throat, your lips stretched around his swollen knot, as you braced yourself to endure the minutes to come.

Your breathing grew ragged as you tried to comply with the barbaric king's instruction, the pressure of his spurts down your throat sending your body into a state of sensory overload. Each surge of his cum filled the back of your mouth, forcing you to swallow to make room for more, so you wouldn't be overwhelmed. Nose pressed against the coarse, orange wires of his pubic hair, your breaths coming in short gasps as you struggled to find enough air.

Your sore throat bobbed with each gulp, lips sealed tightly around Bakugou's pulsing knot. You followed his instructions, taking quick breaths through flared nostrils whenever his spurts allowed a moment of respite. As you continued to swallow the seemingly never-ending load, your eyes watered and throat contracted around the royal's throbbing cock. Bakugou ran his thumb over your neck, tracing over the ridge his twitching cockhead made in your throat, causing you to choke and sputter, your reflexive gag wrapped around his dick.

The primal sounds of you gagging and swallowing seemed to fuel Bakugou, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he reveled in your struggle to regain control of your reflexes. He found the cruel game fun, knowing that you had to drink every single drop or be overwhelmed by the seed that filled your mouth. As the barbaric king rolled his hips, his cock milked one last time by your tight walls, the deflating knot slipped past your teeth with a squelching pop. You felt each inch slowly withdraw from your pained throat, eliciting a mix of both relief and a weird sense of emptiness. Your jaw ached from the strain, throat raw and bruised from the rough treatment. Cum dripped from your swollen lips, a shiny string dripping towards the ground between your knees.

You leaned back against the leg of the heavy table, body boneless and weak from the intense sex. Your chest heaved with each ragged breath, senses still reeling from the experience. The taste of his cum still lingered in your mouth, a reminder of of just how well you had performed your role.

His cruel grin twisted with satisfaction as he held your weak chin with his thumb and pointer finger, tilting your glassy gaze to meet his blood red eyes. The arrogance in his voice was evident as he spoke, his words laced with a mocking tone.

"You did well, little whore," King Bakugou taunted, "Maybe you'll last longer than the others." His words cut through you like a knife, a reminder of your place and his complete control over the situation.

And it only got worse.

Your stomach churned, the fullness from consuming the sheer volume of cum you did, mixed with the exhaustion and strain on your body. It was rapidly becoming too much to bear. The taste of his bitter seed lingered in your mouth, adding to the increasing waves of nausea that welled up. With shaky legs, you bolted towards the clean bucket next to the table, a hand clamped over your mouth. Face contorted in anguish as you reached it just in time, hunching over and emptying the viscous contents of your stomach into the wood container, a curtain of dark curls obscuring the action.

Wave after wave of white, thick cum splashed into the bucket. Your throat burned even more from the forceful expulsion, tears streaming down your face as you tried to catch your breath between stomach spasms and hiccups.

Meanwhile, Bakugou simply rolled his crimson eyes in annoyance. He watched with a scowl as you succumbed to the ill effects of being orally knotted for first time, his own sense of satisfaction completely unaffected. The king redressed himself in his leather breeches, his muscular chest displayed proudly. He made no move to help or console you, instead commenting with a disdainful tone

"Y're gonna have to get better at that," he sneered, his dissatisfaction with the newest addition to his collection clear as day. Without a backward glance, he exited the tent, leaving you seething with roiling resentment.

As you continued to glare daggers at his retreating back over the rim of the bucket, an unbreakable determination burned in your eyes. The interaction had further solidified your disdain for the barbarian king. One way or another, you swore to yourself, you were going to find a way to make that man miserable.

Bakugou made his way through the field, his strides thudding quickly across the field. His blood red eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in the lush greenery and wind rustling through the grass and leaves. In the distance, he spotted Captain Kirishima, his towering figure standing tall on a hill overlooking the lake.

The captain of the king's guard, tall and muscular, wore his signature dark grey uniform adorned with a crimson cloak denoting his station. His mane of long, vibrant red hair cascaded down his back, and his curved ruby horns glinted in the late afternoon light. Nearing a staggering seven feet, Kirishima towered over most humans and dragons alike. With a languid stretch of his wings and tail, he looked every bit the formidable dragon he was. Even though his stature was imposing- off the battlefield, there was a softness to his facial features, a warmth in his scarlet eyes that contradicted his formidable appearance.

Stretching his wings and tail with a contented yawn, Kirishima paused mid-spread as he noticed his long time friend approaching. His scarlet eyes widened in alarmed confusion as he caught sight of the split upper lip on the king's face.

"What happened to your lip?" Kirishima asked baffled, his tail and wings still unintentionally frozen extended as he waited.

Bakugou's grin widened, his blood-red eyes shining with a mischievous glint. He licked his split upper lip, savoring the sting that still lingered from your bold and unexpected slap. The memory of the defiance brought a twisted satisfaction to the king.

"Hah! The village's 'peace offering' turned out fiesty" he responded, a hint of admiration laced within his tone. The fact that you had the audacity to strike him, the mighty Murder King Bakugou, had caught the barbarian off guard at the time, but it definitely made you more interesting.

Kirishima's eyebrows furrowed in surprise, his tail flicking. "They attacked you?" he asked taken aback, “Are they still breathing?” The captain knew that the barbaric ruler was not one to tolerate defiance easily, let alone physical attempts to challenge his authority. Kirishima's mind flooded with questions, but he kept them to himself as he awaited further explanation from his commanding king.

Bakugou's smug grin widened even further, his blood red eyes sparkling with perverse delight. "Oh, they're alive," he responded, his voice dripping with a sadistic satisfaction, "Just paying for their little outburst, that's all."

The words hung in the air, the implication clear. The king's tone hinted at the punishment the new consort was enduring in the privacy of the tent.

Although he hadn't yet met the new concubine, Kirishima couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy towards them. Having grown up with the royal, he knew firsthand the levels of wrath Bakugou could reach. Despite these conflicting emotions, Kirishima's primary concern was ensuring the well-being of those in the king's care, even if it meant treading carefully in the sea of Bakugou's own volatile temper. It often fell to the loyal captain to keep the king from committing actions he would regret later. Well, less regret and more inconvenience him.

"'n fact, you're on babysitting duty while I deal with the village," Bakugou said, the murderous glint in his bloody eyes betraying his enjoyment of the situation. The king's command echoed in Kirishima's ears, causing his ruby scaled tail to stiffen and his broad shoulders to tense.

Kirishima let out a silent exhale, disappointment etched across his face as he processed the news. In truth, he had hoped that Bakugou would choose to spare the villagers and seek a peaceful resolution instead of resorting to violence. The captain believed that the actions of a few rebels should not warrant bloodshed on such a scale. After all, the villagers had made multiple peace offerings to appease the barbaric king, it felt like a breach of honor for Bakugou to now go back on that agreement.

However, Kirishima knew better than to openly challenge his friend's authority. He respected the position Bakugou held and understood the consequences of rebellion. Biting his tongue, Kirishima buried his disappointment and gave a casual bow to his commanding ruler, before making his way towards the tent on the hilltop.

Kirishima stepped into the large tent, his unfurled wings brushing against the side as he entered. His wings, magnificent and majestic, spanned wide, their vibrant ruby scales shimmering under the soft glow of the tent's filtered light. The ruby scales continued down the length of his long, sinuous tail, adding a touch of elegance to his formidable presence.

As his fiery ruby eyes landed on you, Kirishima's first thought was one of surprise. The person who had struck King Bakugou looked a lot less imposing than he had anticipated. You, unlike the powerful and intimidating dragons Kirishima was used to, stood before him at a mere average human stature. If that. The only discernible dragon feature you possessed were the crystal dragon horns that adorned your head, gleaming subtly in the low lit tent. His scaled tail swayed slightly, displaying a mix of curiosity and caution.

Your eyes widened as they met Kirishima's for the first time, and your body tensed instinctively. You had been thoroughly exhausted, both physically and emotionally, by your round with Bakugou. Your throat was raw and voice gone, leaving you unable to deliver the defiant expletives you desperately wanted to snarl at the imposing dragon that had just entered the tent. But your voice failed you, leaving you with only one avenue of expression.

With a fierce hiss, you expelled every ounce of ferocity you had left buried within. Your body tensed, lips curling back in a display of bare teeth. The hiss reverberated within the confines of the tent, a desperate attempt to communicate defiance to Kirishima, to convey that you would not be dominated or humiliated any further today.

The captain took a step back, scarlet eyes swept over your form, they couldn't help but notice the torn remnants of your bodice on the floor and the ripped dress clinging to your body. The rips and tears spoke volumes of the intense encounter you had undergone at the hands of King Bakugou. His gaze then landed on the mark that marred the delicate skin of your neck—an unmistakable claim.

Kirishima's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his mind reeling with the implications.

As a dragon, Kirishima understood the significance of such a bite - it bound two souls together, sealing their connection as life partners in a way that couldn't be severed. When done correctly.

Marking a consort with a claim without fully mating them was not unheard of, but it was generally met with extreme judgment. Claims in terms of mating were typically reserved for life partners, a commitment that extended beyond physical desire. Nobles, known for their fickle nature and ever-shifting loyalties, often chose to mark their consorts with more temporary symbols, such as collars.

The ornate collars allowed the royals to easily discard their concubines when they grew bored. The nobility were notorious for their fickleness and often left their consorts behind as they moved on to fresh pursuits. By marking a consort with a bite with no intention of making you an equal, Bakugou had not only defied what little merciful convention held by the upper class but also inflicted a cruel fate upon you in Kirishima's eyes. The mark would make it near impossible for you to find a true mate, forever branded as the king's property.

Kirishima couldn't help but feel a stab of disappointment towards his lifelong friend. While he knew the barbarian ruler's tendencies on the battlefield, he hadn't thought Bakugou would exhibit such cruelty towards a consort, knowing you would likely be discarded at some point. Kirishima's own sense of honor and loyalty clashed with the conflicting emotions he felt, itching at the back of his mind as he observed the vulnerable state you found yourself in.

The captain's gaze lingered on your throat, noticing the subtle signs of strain and discomfort. The realization for the hissing aggression struck Kirishima like a bolt of lightning. You had lost your voice, and it wasn't due to natural causes or illness. No, it became clear to him that it was likely a result of your first tryst with King Bakugou, an experience that he could only imagine had been rough and brutal, throat rubbed raw from the repetitive acts demanded of you.

Feeling a surge of empathy, Captain Kirishima decided to ease the intimidating aura he unintentionally projected. He understood that his imposing stature must be overwhelming to you, given the turn of events. He folded his wings against his back, their vibrant red membranes pressed tightly together, confining their expansive span. The act served to minimize his physical presence, making him appear less threatening. He slouched slightly, adopting a more relaxed stance, and kept his hands visible, showing that he meant no harm. It was a deliberate display of non-aggression, aimed at putting you at ease, or at least as much at ease as one could be in such circumstances.

The red dragon's eyes softened as he noticed the weary look on your face. He could see the exhaustion etched into every line, body still trembling from the recent ordeals you had endured. Determined to offer some solace in this tumultuous situation, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

With slow deliberate steps, Kirishima moved away from you and towards a pile of chests near the entrance of the war tent. These chests contained spoils from the village, items meant to appease the king after their attack on his soldiers. Kirishima knew that among them, there was a chest filled with garments. Opening one of the chests, he carefully sifted through the contents until he found a fine yet simple dress that roughly matched your size.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Kirishima's lips as he gently tossed the dress onto the table, positioning it between the tow of you. Its delicate fabric fluttering in the air before settling down over the wood. It was a small gesture, but meant to convey that he harbored no ill intentions.

It was a silent message that you deserved respect and dignity, even in this tumultuous situation.

Sensing that you needed some space to collect yourself and change, Kirishima took a much smaller chest from the pile. He left the tent, giving you room to breathe and reckon with the pent-up emotions that surely swirled like storm clouds.

As the cool mountain breeze blew through his hair, Kirishima found a suitable spot a few paces from the tent, overlooking the serene lake in the warm hues of late afternoon light. With deftness and precision, he constructed a small firepit, arranging the rocks in a circle. As the dragon exhaled softly, a gentle stream of fire escaped his lips, the light glinting off his curved ruby horns. The flickering flames danced and crackled, casting a comforting glow over the hilltop.

As the captain patiently waited for the water to heat, he glanced back towards the war tent, briefly catching sparkle of your horns through the opening. His heart went out to you. Though he understood the gravity of Bakugou's actions, Kirishima couldn't help but feel a creeping sense of responsibility in making sure you felt as comfortable as possible, despite the circumstances.

Just as the water in the kettle neared boiling, Kirishima activated his innate talent. His hands hardened, gaining an impressive durability that allowed him to handle the intense heat without harm. With a swift motion, he reached for the kettle, hands possessing the resilience of a dragon's scales. His grip was confident and steady as he effortlessly removed the kettle from the fire, preventing the water from boiling. He gently tossed the healing tea leaves into the kettle, watching as they swirled and danced in the near-boiling water. The soothing aroma of the tea began to waft through the air, carrying with it hints of delicate flowers and calming herbs.

With a careful hand, Kirishima reached into the tea chest, procuring a magnificent stained glass teacup that shimmered in hues of red and amber. Draconic stained glass was a rarity, prized for its strength and ethereal beauty. The light of the late sun cascaded through the vibrant colors, casting an enchanting glow on his hands.

Unwrapping the glass bottles, the captain uncorked the crystallized honey and yuzu peel. He slowly poured a generous amount of honey into the teacup, its golden texture illuminated by the sunlight. Next, he added a pinch of the fragrant dried yuzu peel, allowing its subtly sweet and citrusy scent to infuse the air. These ingredients held healing properties, meant to soothe and restore vitality to worn souls. The captain took extra care, ensuring that the precise balance of ingredients was met, creating a concoction that he hoped would bring some measure of comfort to your weary spirit.

With a quiet exhale, Kirishima patiently awaited the completion of the tea's steeping process. He hoped that the healing properties of the tea, combined with the warmth and tranquility of their surroundings, would provide a much-needed respite for your body and mind. In this moment of quiet reflection, he couldn't help but hope that this small act of kindness would bring some solace amidst the chaos that was now your new life in royal confines.

As the tantalizing fragrance of the healing tea filled the air, it didn't take long for you to emerge from the confines of the tent, eyes cautiously studying Kirishima's every move. Clad in the simple yet elegant dress he had provided you, features betraying a mix of cautious curiosity, before you fully exited the tent.

Scarlet eyes met yours as he poured the infused brew into the stained-glass teacup, the colors of the evening sun casting a mesmerizing glow through its amber and red hues. With a delicate touch, he extended the teacup towards you, his gentle gesture offering a sense of peace and comfort amongst the chaos.

Your gaze flickered between the beautiful teacup in Kirishima's hands and his eyes, wariness slowly giving way to a glimmer of trust. You lowered yourself onto the cushion placed by the fire, its warmth seeping through the fabric and into your tired body. Settling in, you positioned yourself to face the serene vista of the lake, where the calm waters mirrored the vibrant shades of the setting sun.

Kirishima, mindful of your nervous vigilance, kept his movements steady and reassuring. His hand extended further, confidently offering you the teacup of healing brew. The crimson colored light filtering through the stained glass seemed to dance and flicker as if carrying with it a promise of respite.

A soft smile tugged at Kirishima's lips as he spoke, his voice gentle yet filled with earnest sincerity. "Can we start over? I'm Captain Kirishima." In that simple statement, he hoped to convey that he was not just a guard but someone who, at their heart, genuinely cared. Someone who would listen and support you, should you choose to share your burdens.

He waited patiently, the teacup held delicately between the two of you, awaiting your response. In this moment, amidst the tranquil beauty of the lake and the tender offering of healing tea, he hoped that they could find a glimmer of solace and a fresh beginning.

IRL Safety Disclaimer: Never Pull A Partner Up By Their Hair Off of a Surface. You Will Injure Someone.

Taglist: @themythicaldisaster

Comments and Reblogs carry me through the week!

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gabessquishytum · 2 months

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Hob buys a crown that he found in a thrift shop - it's a little tarnished, but under the dust and general grime, it's beautiful.

It's a masculine crown, Hob thinks, because there aren't a lot of stones (and of the jewels there, people must have thought that they were costume, based on their size, hence why it was at a thrift store and not Sotheby's) and the black metal shot through with gold doesn't feel like something a woman might wear.

The crown seems to call to Hob and no one who isn't Hob who holds the crown is impressed by it at all. It's as if all its magnificence is hidden from everyone but Hob. So he cleans it carefully when he gets it home, and when he's done.....he waits until he has a long weekend from classes (he couldn't wait until there was a longer break, he justcouldn't) and puts the crown on.

It fits like it was made for him.

And when he opens eyes that he didn’t realize he closed, the world around him is different......and he's in a beautiful throne room.

And sitting at the top of a set of long steps on the throne is what can only be the king.

I feel like the first rule of "weird objects you find in thrift shops that also might be cursed" is like. Don't Wear Them and/or Ingest Them. But Hob clearly didn't get the memo, so never mind!

Dream (who is, of course, the King) peers down at the human man who's just appeared in his throne room. It's very odd because a) Dream is cursed to be alone in here and b) the man appears to be wearing his crown. He also doesn't seem to have a clue where he is, so he's obviously not a mage. Very strange indeed. Dream hasn't had any company for a few thousand years at this point, so he's inclined to be interested and not to just kill the man. Yet.

Hob, meanwhile, is just trying to get his bearings. He takes in the magnificent throne, the stately arches and the stained glass windows. It all seems pretty real, but also... perfect. Like it's been created in someone's mind and then perfectly translated into reality. It's beautiful. The King is even more beautiful. And he looks at Hob like he's a very interesting kind of feign beetle that just crawled across the carpet.

Hob squares his shoulders, takes a deep breath, and takes the crown off his head. "I think this might be yours?" He ventures, holding it out in his hands. The King blinks, considers, and crooks his finger for Hob to come forward.

The thing is, the crown isn't Dream’s. It's meant to be for his future spouse - the spouse who is supposed to come and rescue him from this curse. And Dream can't help but wonder how a very ordinary man (who trips on the steps up to the throne) is going to manage that?

At this point - he's only too willing to find out.

#the sandman #dreamling

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readychilledwine · 3 months

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Hi, could you write Tamlin absolutely ruining the reader. What I mean is.... reader and tam are in a relationship, he's been busy with work and reader thinks he doesn't like her anymore so tamlin shows her just how wrong she is...😏

A Hint of Corruption

Warnings - pet/own/master power play dynamics, brief rough oral, punishment play, mention of corruption, bratty behavior, reader really REALLY like fucking angry Tamlin.

"If you don't fucking have time for me anymore, just tell me." Tamlin looked at you in shock from his throne. You felt your chest tightening, eyes beginning to water as he just stared at you processing your anger.

He had not touched you in weeks. He hasn't kissed you in days. He spent hours holed up in his repaired office with other high Lords negotiating trade routes and imports. And when he wasn't there, he was in other courts doing the same thing.

"What, little dove, do you mean by that?" He stepped closer to you, setting that damned crown of antlers and thorns on the throne.

You didn't back down, staring up at him. "It's clear I've over stayed my welcome and you are tired of my presence," a dramatic statement fueled by your anger. "I have clearly served my purpose and you are done with me. So just tell me that instead of leaving me here alone constantly."

Tamlin's face fell into a further look of shock. He had told you what he was doing, that these next few months would be insane and likely lonely for both of you as he worked to reset the glory Spring once had.

Glory you were helping him bring back with your Mother blessed gifts to repair land and grow damn near anything. "Dove," he hand came to your cheek, stroking softly, "y/n, I warned you I would be busy and gone a lot this month. I have been trying to come home to you every night-"

"And yet I go to bed and wake up alone-"

He interrupted you, his pet peeve causing anger to hit him. "I was not done speaking, dove. Do we need a lesson on manners and the behavior of a Lady again?" He began backing you to the wall. "Do you need a reminder of who you belong to? Of who cares for you and this beautiful body?"

Your back hit the window, hands going flat against the glass as the throne room doors slammed shut and locked. "Tamlin-"

Green eyes flickered to yours, a mix of arousal and annoyance shining in them. "I believe you are fully aware we are past first names at this point, pet. Get on your knees."

Submission fueled your brain as he pushed down on your shoulders, gathering your hair before putting into the leather he had around his wrist. "Open your mouth," your hands were on his pant ties already focused on that task until a slap came.

You gasped loudly, eyes watering. It wasn't hard, but it still stung, and you looked up at him.

He had not had to slap you for disobedience in years. Not since he had met you, and this began. You were his good girl. His pretty little pet he constantly praised. Your lip trembled as tears fell. "Don't give me that look. Open your fucking mouth."

You sniffled, doing as you were told and waited. "There she is," two fingers gently brushed your tongue, pushing in and coating themselves in your spit. "You're going to suck my cock while I explain to you, again, what is currently happening in my court and why master is gone so much lately."

You didn't nod, eyes still watering. "You want to be my good girl. Don't you?" Tamlin pushed those two fingers into your mouth and down your throat. "Look at me." Your eyes fluttered up, breathing through your nose as he pushed further, causing you to gag. "I can't wait to fucking ruin you."

You whined around them, sucking greedily now. "No, pet, you have to listen first. You broke a rule, you have to be punished. You understand, don't you?"

Your eyes had glazed over, so focused on sucking his fingers that all you could do was nod. "That's my good girl." Tamlin untied his pants, pulling this cock out and smiled as you moaned at the sight. He had ruined you so beautifully already, but you had been so innocent, so untouched by anything when he found you that every chance to fuck you stupid was new and exciting.

He removed his fingers, using the saliva to pump his heavy cock while you watched. Your tongue was out, waiting for him to give you what you wanted, waiting for him to force you to listen. He placed the head on your tongue and nodded, giving you permission to pleasure him.

"As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me," he held you down, nose flush against his pelvis, watching as you swallowed and sucked his length. "I have been working tirelessly every damn day to be home to you every night. That means there's going to be a lot of mornings alone since I am constantly winnowing the lands to keep you and your slutty little mouth and cunt happy."

He moaned as he pulled up, watching you take a deep breath, then he slammed back in, laughing as you gagged around him. "I am not tired of you. I am not done with you. I am not planning to just toss you aside, pet. I am busy. You like your pretty dresses and jewelry, don't you? Like having a staff to pamper and wait on you? How do you think your High Lord gets you those things? Do you think they're just here and free to you since you're so damn pretty?"

He began fucking your mouth, focusing on that for awhile before abruptly pulling you off of him and ripping you up by your hair.

You moaned, walking at his pace until he threw you over the arm of the throne and held you down with a growl that warned you not to move.

A loud rip filled the room, followed by a chilly spring breeze leaving goosebumps along your body. "Such a beautiful girl," you could hear his smile as you heard his clothing hit the floor and felt a hand go to your folds. Tsmlin groaned at the wetness he found there, the sweet essence coating his hand and practically pouring out of you. He patted your clit softly, watched as you wiggled and moaned his name.

Gods, he loved you. Every inch of you. Every dip and soft curve of your body. Every laugh. Every noise you made.

How could you ever think he'd grown tired of you?

Tamlin took his now coated hand, running it along the shaft of himself as he ran the head through your folds then sat. "Beg. Beg like the good little whore you are. Beg for my forgiveness and for my cock."

"Master please," a good start. "Gods, please I am so sorry. I'll be a good pet. I'll listen and wait at home. Please just fuck me. I need you inside me, please. It's been so long."

He hummed, hand running your spine and tangling into your hair. "It has been too long, my love. Much too long. I should rectify that." He entered you in one swift thrust. The throne began digging into your hips, brushing them as he wasted no time pounding into you.

He ripped you up by your hair again, forcing your back to arch like a bow for him as he pulled the cord that was your pleasure taunt. "I love you, you spoilt little pet. You fucking know this but come in here to yell at me?" His words matched the harshness of his cock working inside of you. You could help the wetness beginning to pool more and more at each word. "I got help to be worthy of you. Signed trade deals with courts I didn't want to be able to spoil and care for you. I get one full day home this week to get ready for a High Lords' meeting, and you want to come in here running your mouth?"

He changed the angle of his thrusts, hitting that spot deep inside of you. You felt your body going pliant, and his arms moved to hold you up by your elbows, pulling you back slightly. "Tell me you're sorry and let you cum. I can tell you are right there. I can stop right fucking now."

"No!" You felt yourself crying again. The pleasure becoming too much. "I'm sorry I was so ungrateful. I'll be good. Gods, please, my mate, my High Lord, please."

Tamlin didn't stop, speed increasing as each drag stretched your now tightening walls forcing them open and swallowing his cock whole. "Cum. Scream my name for his whole court to know who owns you."

You obeyed. Your mind, soul, heart, and body were his. You were his. He had ensured that the second he started bedding you, ruining you for anyone who may wish to touch you, and he'd continue to ruin you.

He came inside of you, holding you down by your neck again and forcing you into submission as you milked him. "Do not ever come into my throne room acting like that again. I was nice, y/n. I won't be nice next time."

You smiled, looking back at him, and risked it all. "You're so easy to manipulate, Tam. I got the sex I needed just by being a brat for 5 minutes. I can't wait until you see what else I've done."

His face fell, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "You won't be leaving our bedroom tomorrow, will you pet?"

You felt him pull out, smiling as he turned you and picked you up. "Nope," you popped the last syllable before kissing his cheek.

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uglypastels · 10 months

Text

Not Wholly Evil |V| Pirate!Eddie au

a/n thank you to @eddies-house for helping me figure out this darn chapter. you saved me from a menty b.

please remember to support by reblogging and commenting!! you don't know how much it helps writers

Series Masterlist

word count: 8.2k

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

Chapter 5: Flintlock

“A taste for adventure is by no means a masculine monopoly” ― Lloyd Alexander

It was certainly strange, seeing the cabin through the daylight. The wooden panelling of the walls and floor looked softer, and the decorations on the walls were no longer covered in menacing shadows. The bed, however, was softer than your dream made it seem. It was better than the ground, but knowing who usually occupied it made your back stiff with dread.

The room was empty as you got up, stretching your body out of the foreign feeling of a bed. Another thing to thank the captain for— perverting the concept of a bed. There was no space for anyone to hide in the cabin, but you still looked around, waiting for him to appear out of thin air. It seemed like just the thing he could do and had been doing all your time on board. Only once you checked every corner could you properly set your mind at rest.

Besides the sunshine, nothing had changed from the night before. It was as if you had stepped through time, from night to morning. Your old clothes hung on the edge of the bed. The bookcase was missing the one book you had pulled out, leaving the rest at an awkward angle. Your dinner plate and ale jug, alongside the captain’s empty rum bottle, were left behind on the desk, but as you walked towards the table, you noticed the cup to be filled again, and on the plate stood two thick slices of bread and some brightly coloured fruit you had not seen before—more food that must have been retrieved during the brief exploration of the nameless island. You sat down on the throne and tried to push aside the feeling that came whenever you touched something, anything, to do with the captain. It was like he haunted all his possessions, never leaving you alone.

The bread was the safest option; it was your first bite, breaking your fast. After the delicious meal you had been given last evening, the salty dryness of the dough did not compare by the slightest, but the cool fresh water that had also been left for you made up for it.

And the fruit…

You were still unsure of what it was, but the juice of it felt healing to your senses. You ate it slowly, trying to savour every bite.

Once done, you noticed that all the documents the captain had thrown off last night still lay spread out on the ground. This, in particular, unsettled you. Just seeing the mess of it all splayed out there. So, without much thought, you went to pick up the papers, stacking them in neat piles and placing them on the corner of the large desk. Soon enough, you were done, and only one piece of paper was left. It had fallen right under the desk. You went to pull it out when you noticed it.

The drawer you had tried to open the night before. The one Munson had unlocked with the key around his neck and had taken a bottle of rum from. It was ajar. So close to being locked that Munson must have thought he had closed it when he slammed it. But no, with a quick pull at the handle, it opened up for you.

Inside was a collection of bottles in different shapes and sizes. Most were still full. You picked one up out of sheer curiosity. Why lock up this stock? Unless it was valuable, or dangerous? Maybe he tried to keep it away from everyone else on board. But as you held the bottle, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Just a simple, red glass bottle, the cork wedged sturdily into the neck. The liquid sloshed against the container like any other drink as you tipped it around. Still trying to understand the content of the locked drawer, you put it down in its place.

Or were about to. Because that is when you noticed the paper sticking out from underneath the other bottles. That gnawing feeling in your stomach returned as you contemplated what to do. The captain had made it very clear he did not appreciate you looking through his things, and you were sure that if he were to catch you again, it would not end as simply as you having to star-gaze for an evening. The warnings were loud and clear.

Then again, when did you start caring about those? Or anything he said.

Moving the biggest bottles around carefully to create space, you pulled the paper out of the drawer. At first, you thought you had ripped it, but upon closer inspection, you realised it had been torn in halves long before you had gotten your hands on it. The paper was browned at the edges, a corner half-burned as if someone had decided against its destruction at the last minute. The words meant little at first, but as you read on and became more familiar with the hand they were written in, pieces fell into place. And they fell hard.

Like the loud clash you heard from outside the cabin, startling you. Scared you were about to get caught, you put the paper down into the drawer and shut it with your leg, holding your breath for the door to open. You waited for several seconds, but nothing moved.

You did not know what caused the commotion or if you were about to be greeted by someone outside the door, but you knew you could not stay in the cabin alone for much longer. The more time passed, the more similar the situation felt to the night before. The gnawing urge to look through all the drawers and nooks was just as big as the risk of being caught, and it was dangerous. Fortunately, the door opened flawlessly when you pulled at it.

It had remained a cloudless sky, but now the dark navy sprinkled with stars was exchanged for a vibrant and youthful blue. The sun hung above your heads, piercing the air onto your skin in a warm glow.

The crew was below you, spread out around the deck, and now one had looked up or probably even noticed your presence. So, making yourself comfortable on the stairs, you sat by, peeking through the balustrade bars, and watched what was happening. After all, it was a morning full of observations.

The men were spread out over the ship in groups, all busy with their own activities. The easiest to make out were those in a circle, watching as two of them attacked eachother with swords. The smiles on their faces told you enough; it was merely another session of training or some form of playfighting. The last time they had been doing it, you did not care to stand by and watch, not at all interested in their antics. This time, however, you took the opportunity to observe how they went about it. Since it was nothing but leisure, the moves were wide, easy to block, but once in a while, they would nick eachother just to stay sharp. Then, the attacked would groan in pain, grabbing at the part of their body that was hit in agony.

Each time it happened, the small crowd observing would show their satisfaction or disappointment, depending on which side of the duel they supported, with shouts and encouragement.

‘C’mon Harrington! Get him!’

‘Shut it, will you,’ “Harrington”, as he was called by his audience, turned to look in their way, annoyed, but in that short second, his opponent took a shot with his sword’s pommel, hitting him in his temple. Harrington was knocked back a few steps and had to shake the hit off but remained on his feet.

You were unsure what the game's rules were and how one would win in the circumstances, but one thing was clear—Harrington stood little chance as his opponent managed to get another cut in. A bruise, most likely from a previous encounter much like this one, had already formed under his eye, but even with the dark purple shade on his skin, you could not deny he looked quite handsome… for a criminal. You had seen him around, pulling at ropes, carrying around their precious cargo, and keeping other crewmates from breaking out into fistfights—he must have brought your meals down to the cell once too.

His brown hair was sleeked back but tended to move around as he did, so he constantly had to push it out of his face. The collar of his shirt was wide open, revealing a sweat-stained chest.

‘I really don’t get it,’ a raspy voice spoke from above you, making you strain your neck to look back up at the quarter-deck. Somehow, in your spectatorship of what was happening below, you had completely missed the fact that someone had been steering the ship and had, in fact, stood beside you next to the captain’s door all along.

You had not expected to hear your thoughts reciprocated and voiced anywhere near this ship, so they left you stunned. And perhaps this was the reason why you had not got up and run off at the sound of them or the presence of someone at your side but instead stammered out a clumsy response. ‘Sorry?’

‘They run around with their shiny sticks, hit each other just to cry about it like children,’ your new conversation partner said, ‘I just do not understand the appeal of it.’

‘No, me neither, really.’ In your opinion, there were much better, less barbaric ways to release energy and tension than this brutish behaviour. The fight below was still firmly underway, but you had gained a new interest in the person by your side. You couldn’t help but notice how they wore clothes in a very similar manner to you—a large shirt tightened by a leather vest, long trousers kept in and shorter with rope. It was as if they made do with things that had never been intended for them. Their hair could be short or long, depending on who you spoke to, but you could not tell.

‘I’ll tell you this, I’ve sailed across all possible seas in the world and men are still one of the biggest mysteries I have not been able to solve.’

You blinked slowly as the words reached your barely awake mind. A revelation that had struck you more than anything on board.

You weren’t the only woman here. The other just sat down next to you on the steps.

‘You can stop staring,’ she said, slightly frazzled, and you quickly looked away, mumbling an apology. Despite that, you kept stealing glances her way. Her hair, light as sand, was chopped messily as if done by hand with a blunt knife. Her skin was sunkissed with freckles and perhaps a bit of dirt. ‘I’m Buck. I know who you are, of course.’

‘How—’ How had you not seen her before? How were you not aware of a woman on board all this time? And perhaps it was wishful thinking to assume that she might be someone you could be comfortable with just from that one common trait, but you could not deny that something in you felt more at peace than seconds before.

‘Surrounded by this type, I understand you’d want to keep your head down,’ she smiled awkwardly, ‘but you can’t forget how to look up.’ She tilted her head back as she said it, so you followed suit. The sun blinded you, but as you focused on what was above you, you saw the masts towering tall in their black silhouettes and there, atop the tallest one, was the lookout point.

‘You sit in the crow’s nest,’ you smiled understandingly.

‘Robin’s nest, I took it upon myself to rename it, don’t know why, I just resonate more with them— call it superstition, I don’t know— and I’ve earned the right considering none of them want to make the climb.’ she pushed her chin towards the rest of the crew. ‘But it’s a good view, you should join me up there some day. If you ever need to get away, you know.’

‘I— I’m not the greatest with heights.’ The speed at which Buck spoke left your brain gripping onto words to keep up, and so your reply came out a bit frazzled.

‘Me neither,’ Buck shrugged. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t seen me get stuck in the nets before. It happens twice a day, at least.’

‘And they still let you climb up there?’ Surely, she could not be the smartest choice for the task. Robin snickered at your shocked expression.

‘Like I said, none of them will do it.’

‘Why do it at all, then? Why risk your life every day for… them?’ These hooligans, criminals, fraudsters, monsters, villains…

‘Because I am one ofthem.’ She knew what you had meant with your comment as she spoke softer, giving you a gentle tap on the shoulder with her hand in reminder.

You glanced at the men in front of you and then turned back to Robin. ‘No, you’re really not.’

‘What because I’m a woman?’ Robin raised a brow.

‘Well, for starters.’ From a very early age, you knew that men and women were two entirely different beings. Just the way mankind treats eachother on that principle is evidence enough.

‘Intelligence wise, you would be correct,’ Robin stated, leaning back on the steps, resting her weight on her elbows. Despite her petite frame, you noticed she wasn’t afraid to take up space. Despite a comfortable distance between you, her knee still met with yours as she sat in a wide position. ‘But we are all just people.’

You had wanted to reply but thought better of it. She saw herself as a part of them, and so an insult to the others would be an insult to her, and for some reason, you did not want to say anything that might hurt her. Strangely, for a second, you considered the idea of actually liking her. Out of everyone aboard the Hellfire, the barrelwoman seemed like the most likely person you could find yourself befriending.

But before any more of the conversation could be led, giving you a chance to let those thoughts bloom or rot, another voice boomed over everyone else’s to prompt Buck of her duties.

‘Robin! The ship won’t steer itself!’ It was none other than Munson, but you could not find him among his people.

‘Aye, captain.’ Bunk, or Robin as she also went by apparently, rolled her eyes, getting up with a heaved breath. ‘See you around then.’

You didn’t say anything, too confused by your own thoughts. You couldn’t keep your eyes away as she returned to the helm; couldn’t stop thinking about what had brought her here? What had made her choose this life to live with all these men and act in such ways? You had wondered about everyone aboard the Hellfire, but Robin… a lady sea robber. You had never heard of such a thing. It was spinning your world around but also genuinely fascinating to think about. As you sat on that step, more things came to your mind: you wanted to ask Robin about life at sea, her crewmates, and her captain. But this opportunity had sailed; it would have to be another time.

You also could not believe you had just had a… civil exchange of words with one of them and that you had not even minded it all that much. As you looked around, it all did not feel as bad as it used to. You could see the idea of pleasantness in the actions happening before you; the laughter and the antics.

These antics continued. The fight you had been watching had not yet ended, but by the looks of Harrington, it could not possibly last much longer. His, to you unnamed, opponent had just pushed his blade flush against Harrington’s throat, locking him into an uncomfortable tight spot. With a tap on the arm, heavier than Robin had done to you, he tapped out of the game. Half the men cheered while the rest groaned and cursed out their wager.

As the winner of the match was picking out his next match, the audience was slowly losing interest, and one of them must have found you sitting on the sidelines. Curious glances were shot your way as they all slowly caught sight of you, not saying much. Just as they had gotten used to the new addition to the ship, you appeared in clothes that were unmistakably the captain’s. Feeling all their eyes on you, as if your seat on the stairs was a pedestal, you moved away and tried to make your way down to your designated space on board below decks.

However, your path was obstructed by one person specifically as he dried his face off with a piece of cloth.

‘Excuse me,’ you dared to say, hoping they would move out of the way. Something about having had an entire conversation with Robin made you feel a bit more comfortable speaking to the rest of them. After all, they—you—were all just people.

‘I wouldn’t run away if I was you.’ Harrington said. ‘Or you’ll never stop.’

‘You think they’ll let me stop?’ If you stayed, letting them near you, look at you like that, wouldn’t that be surrendering to their power.

‘I let you,’ he said, throwing the cloth over his shoulder.

‘I’d say you made me, rather than let.’ You crossed your arms. He had, after all, stood in your way and objected to letting you pass.

‘You could always,’ he turned a quarter of a circle, pointing to his side, ‘move. Unless I am that terrifying.’

‘It may come as a surprise but I have very little reason to be afraid of you at this moment.’ It was a half-truth, as his skills in the fight have shown you little to worry for, but there was little you knew about him or what he was capable of.

Harrington nodded. ‘I take it you watched me from up there.’

‘I watched the fight, yes.’ You could not admit that you had not paid as much attention to whom he was fighting as you did to Harrington himself. ‘It was… entertaining.’

‘I’m glad my suffering amuses you. Yes, that makes this all worth it.’ He pointed up to his bruised eye.

‘You cannot blame me for your misfortune.’

‘Well, you are to blame for my inattentiveness.’

His words left you too dumbstricken to respond, and unfortunately, the commotion around you diverted the entire conversation. Another duel had begun, and men were already cheering for their victors as swords clinked together.

Harrington, being nothing but a simple man, ran over to his designated spot in the crows to cheer on his successor. However, it was all a bit too loud, and instead, you noticed what else was happening on the deck. From where you had sat before, there had not been a clear view of it, but now you were only a few feet away from another small group of the crew.

They sat around a small table. It wasn’t clear what they were doing, but someone would shout out every few minutes and slap their hand on the surface while the rest groaned in frustration.

That is where you found the captain. Huddled between two other men, sitting on a low-built crate, occupying more space than there was with his legs, arm on one thigh as he leaned forward, laughing at whatever was happening at the table. It was a scene like no other. The casualness and pleasantry of it all felt foreign.

You had been used to the men on the Red Tail and their routines, but the ship always came first and, with it, their work and duty. There was never any time for… games. And you would never have caught the captain participating in any of it. Not even at home. This wasn’t something men did. Children, maybe, but no soldier or respected merchant. Only drunks and frauds. But as you looked at it, you had no idea why it was deemed so peculiar to find pleasure in these silly activities.

You were still trying to figure out, from a safe distance, what it was that they were playing when you caught Munson’s gaze. Or more so, you met it, as his eyes had already been on you. Much like everyone else’s had been previously, and yet there was an intensity there that no one else could remake.

‘There you are!’ He shouted out once you saw him, making everyone around him stop and look your way. A dozen pairs of eyes were directed at you now as you stood frozen in place. ‘Took you long enough to join as, darling.’ Some men from across the ship, around the duel circle, stopped to look at what the captain was doing too.

‘If I had known I was invited, I wouldn’t have come.’ You quipped back and felt a gust of pride at the sound of a few chuckles from the men standing nearest you, who were quickly stopped by the stern look of their captain.

‘Now, now, don’t be like that.’ He got up from his seat, raising his voice and gaining the attention of all now. It was like a siren’s call, making everyone stop in their tracks to listen. ‘My thanks are in order for, gentlemen, our princess has led us back on course. Worked all night, in fact, to find the correct coordinates and directions—which is more then I have seen of some of you in the past days.’ With this, he raised a cup in your honour, and while no one else had anything to raise, they all cheered. You stood there, speechless and confused, unsure of what was happening. Why was the captain suddenly so openly appreciative? So… nice?

You ignored the feeling to reciprocate the thankfulness and instead opted for the unfiltered thoughts going through you. ‘You do know “princess” is not my title, right?’

‘And I was never ranked captain… yet here we are, princess. So let us enjoy this fantasy we live in!’ He encouraged another cheer from his crowd. Then, once the rest settled down, he spoke directly to you from across the ship. ‘Come, why don’t you join us, darling. We were about to start another round.’

‘I don’t think there are any seats left.’ The space around the table seemed rather crowded, with each seat taken and many more men standing around. You had no business or interest in getting involved in that, but the captain, as always, persisted.

‘Wheeler was just leaving.’ He pointed to the man sitting across from him.

‘No?’ The man said slowly.

‘Well, you were loosing anyway,’ Munson shooed him away, creating an empty spot for you.

‘I don’t know the rules.’ You persevered in your own opinion.

‘You’ll learn soon enough, come.’

You were about to object, but what else could you expect than the captain calling over another of his crew, this one at least a head taller than you and probably triple your size overall. The giant walked straight, making everyone else move, until he reached you. Then, with a grin, he showed you the path in a straight line towards the table.

Unimpressed, you just said, ‘Thank you.’ and made your way over.

‘Glad you decided to join us.’ Munson said as you looked at the table. On it were six cups; only one turned the right side up. ‘Please, do take a seat.’ You felt a large hand on your shoulders, pushing you down on the crate.

‘Rules are simple,’ the captain began explaining; he picked up the cup before him, ‘5 dice. You roll them for yourself and place a bet, indicating the number of dice you think should be on the table. Speak the truth or bluff, it doesn’t matter, but if you’re caught on a lie… well,’ he shrugged, with it saying enough. The rules sounded simple enough, but one piece of vital information was missing.

‘What are the stakes?’ This was a betting game, so there must be something they were all betting on. You took the cup in front of you and pulled it closer. The dice rattled underneath.

‘We are but humble sailors,’ Munson said, already shaking his set of dice under his cup with a swift wrist move, ‘it’s mostly ship duties and chores. Sometimes meal rations if you’re brave. Anything that speaks to you, darling?’ Oh, there was plenty, but you had to play it smart.

‘If I win,’ you began shaking your dice as well, hovering over your words for a moment to think, ‘I get your cabin… until the end of the journey’ ‘I’ll happily share my bed with you, princess,’ Munson snickered.

‘I wasn’t finished.’ You smiled back. ‘I get your cabin. You get mine.’ Honestly, you did not have a preference for either sleeping option. The bed in Munson’s quarters was stiff, so you might as well have slept on the floor. It was more about what it meant to kick the captain out of his own cabin. You enjoyed the idea and the prospect of encouraging the captain to bring you home faster so he could return to his quarters.

Something flinched in the captain’s muscles as he tried to remain unbothered by your words. The dice kept rolling underneath the cups. The crowd backed off, quickly understanding that this was a game only two of you could play.

‘You sure about that?’ he tried to play it off smoothly. You simply nodded.

‘Name your price, captain.’

‘How about… If I win…’ a small smile grew on his lips, ´we just play another round?’

‘What?’ That couldn’t be it? ‘And if you win again? What happens then?’ Would you be playing this game until the end of time?

‘Got such low chances for yourself?’ He leaned forward a bit while you pushed away from the table.

‘I would just like to know the game before I play.’

‘I think you’ll learn best if we just play, so, shall we?’ He shook his cup with one last flick of the wrist before putting it to a halt, his ringed fingers clutching to the top of it, eyes locked on you as you did the same. Lightly, you tilted the cup to show the dice. They were wooden, carved out with a knife, most likely by someone on this ship. The sides were uneven, so who knows how even the odds were for the game, but to you, they seemed alright. The eyes were dug out of the panels like small holes.

One large eyes, two pairs of threes, a four and five.

Putting the cup back down, you looked up at the captain, his face untelling of any emotion.

‘Ladies go first,’ he announced with a hand gesture. It was up to you to start the betting. With the numbers twirling around in your mind, you thought of what would be the best move to make. To predict his dice was impossible and would only drive you crazy, but perhaps you could predict his next move by what you presented.

‘Four fours.’ You did your best to speak with a flat tone, to not show any emotions. Keep your breathing steady and keep your hands still. To not show any signs of nerves. The captain nodded and took another glance at his dice. There were maybe two before his rebuttal.

‘Five fours.’ There was nothing you could read off of him. The tension across the table only intensified, growing thicker with every moment of silence that passed by.

‘Three fives,’ you replied. The captain raised a suspicious brow.

‘Three sixes.’

‘Four sixes.´ You spoke slowly but confidently. Or with what you hoped could be seen as confidence. It was a lost battle, really. With you having none, there was no chance the captain held four sixes under his cup. He must know it, too, in your case. You knew it just is how the corner of his mouth raised in amusement.

‘Four sixes?' he asked, and you simply nodded again, but he wanted more from you. ‘Speak up, princess.’

‘Yes.’ You spoke sternly, remaining as still as possible. The captain shook his head once, grimacing.

‘See, darling, I don’t believe in beginner’s luck.’

‘Well, captain, I couldn’t tell it’s your first time playing. But don’t worry, you’re doing really well.’ You gave him a sweet sort of smile. So sweet that it could make you sick to your stomach. A few men around you pushed down their laugh, ignoring their captain’s deadly glares. He refocused his attention your way.

‘Show up, princess, because I doubt luck is this much in your favour.’ He tilted his chin, nudging you from across the table to reveal your dice, which you did with a sigh because when is it ever. Since you had stepped foot on this ship, luck seemed to have been missing from your life in its entirety. And yet, with this being a known fact, you were confused to see Munson’s reaction at the reveal of what you had rolled. It was not quite pride nor disappointment. His shoulders slacked down, and something pulled at the muscles in his face. He needed a second to compose his reaction to his winning.

‘Congratulations,’ you muttered without looking any longer at him. Ready to play the next promised round, you grabbed the cup to roll your dice again but were surprised to see Munson get off his seat. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Time for round two, darling.’ He smirked, walking past his crewmates to the centre of the deck. He had moved so far back that you had to turn in your seat. The confusion blocked your speaking ability, but fortunately, the captain was ready to explain. ‘I never said what game that would be, now did I?’ He stood there, surrounded by his men. His stance was wide, and his forearm hung lazily over the helm of his sword, which hung by his side. He let his fingers dance daintily across the silver while waiting for your response, the rings adorning them glistening in the sun.

‘What–’ you took a deep breath as you felt it getting stuck in your throat, ‘what game will this be?’

‘I have been rather looking forward to a little duel, in all fairness. I think we all have.’ He pointed around to everyone in the audience around you. You looked at them. Their smiles were big, and their posture relaxed but eager. They were expecting a show, and, in all fairness, you wanted one too. It’s the least of what you deserved after days of this hell.

Your shirt, still rather ample on your frame, slid down your shoulder as you got up, but you pulled it up with a swift move. Munson, and the rest, watched as you walked up.

‘Any new rules for this round?’ You asked loudly enough for everyone to hear, but the captain had other plans. He closed the gap between the two of you to answer, whispering the words right against your ear.

‘First one to be on both knees loses. How about that, princess?’ He pulled away again to ask you the question, but only a step. You blinked, took one more deep breath and nodded.

‘Oh, this will be fun,’ he smiled, and of course, he had. You could only imagine how much joy it would bring him to humiliate you in front of all these men. Especially since you had already, in front of everyone, admitted that you had not been taught to fight. How easy will it be to win, then?

He called out: ‘Someone give the lady a sword!’ It was aimed at no one, precisely who had handed you your weapon. You barely had the time to look around to see who had given you their sword, as it was thrust upon you with quite a lot of force, pushing you a step back. You tried to get a good grip on it, but no matter how you held it, the sword felt awkward in your hand.

‘You expect me to fight with this?’ You looked at your sword, suppressing any visual reaction to its form. The blade looked tethered and most visibly abused in the previous battle.

‘Not alluring enough for the lady?’ the captain said, pulling his sword out of its scabbard.

‘No, it is not that,’ you kept inspecting your sword apprehensively, ‘though I am sure you have more handsome weapons in your property. I just hoped for a more balanced blade.’ While already at a large disadvantage, with a sword like this, you had absolutely no chance at winning. You tried to hold it up on your hand, balancing the blade against the grip, with the former immediately falling to the ground no matter how you attempted to hold it. You gave the captain an apologetic smile as the sword clanged across the floorboards. He, in response, avoided your gaze by looking at his men for a substitute.

‘Harrington!’ he called out. Harrington stepped out from the ring of spectators, a bit stunned by the sudden call. Munson cocked his head your way, so the crewmember approached you and handed you the sword you had watched him fight with earlier. Closer up, you were taken aback by the harsh scar across his throat, like a deep indent from what must have been a rope tightened around it once upon a time. Another bruise, you noticed, was also already forming around his temple. There was his earlier opponent who had hit him.

‘Thank you,’ you said softly as he handed you his weapon. Just from your initial grip, you could tell it was much better. Harrington nodded and moved away quickly from your and his captain’s fireline.

While you knew enough about the objects to know what quality was good enough to use, the sword still felt foreign and awkward in your hand. You did not know how to stand while holding it, and seeing Munson opposite you, with his full confidence aglow, made you feel even smaller. But despite it all, one thing was for sure. Enough time had gone by, and enough had come between you for you to know that he could no longer treat you the same as he had the day you were broad on board. He could not do whatever he pleased with you. You wouldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t. So, while he looked you up and down with his casual smirk, you made a point to, somewhat confidently, keep your head up.

‘What do you say, princess,’ Munson swung his sword back and forth, ‘I’ll go easy on you.’ With a weak attempt to release some tension from your shoulders, you rolled your head from side to side before copying the captain and letting the sword smoothly move around with the slightest wrist movements. It cut the air with audible slashes, leaving the captain and everyone else mute.

‘It’s appreciated, captain,’ you didn’t forget to respond to his generosity.

The captain simply nodded. No formal duelling rules were aboard the Hellfire since no one had time for the silly rituals. He simply stepped into position, and so you followed behind. He was, naturally, also the first to attack.

You were just in time to block it. The blades clinked at the point of impact, and there was a moment of confusion on Munson’s face. Hesitation. It was brief and all-telling in his eyes and brow, and lucky for you, it didn’t go unnoticed. It was a blink of an action as he tried to process what you had just done. The instinct at which you performed. Did he see your smile?

But the moment was soon as he proceeded with his next swing. And the next. Next. one after the other, locking you in with his movement. From each new angle, never passing on the theatrics of it all with turns and bends at which you should not have been able to keep up—but you did. You counteracted every attack, perhaps not flawlessly, straining to keep up with the speed and agility at which the captain moved, but it was more than anyone had expected you to be capable of.

And finally, the opportunity presented itself. A brisk moment of stillness gave you a chance to swing your sword. Of course, he blocked it, steady on his feet, but Munson took a small step back as you kept coming forth. The metal practically echoed over the ship. Cheers from the audience subsided as everyone got lost in the duel. There seemed to be no end; you only moved faster, harsher, harder.

As you kept moving, the crows had to move along with you, making space for the extended movements of the blades. If it had not been for the well-times duck, there would have been a head short on deck. The captain kept moving back from you until there was a thud. He had nowhere else to go as you backed him up against a barrel. There was that brief flash of panic on his face again as he came across a situation he had never expected to land in, but it washed away just as quickly. There was no time for him to react to the situation, for your sword was coming closer and closer to him again, and this time he had nowhere to go. With a final move, you pressed the blade against his throat. You were both breathing heavily. Sweat poured down on both of you underneath the scorching sun. The tip of your sword remained under his Adam’s apple, which moved up and down as Munson heaved in the air. And yet, even with his neck tightly stretched as he was forced to look up because of the sword digging into his skin, he had a bemused smile upon his face.

‘You said no one taught you how to fight?’ It was more of a question than a statement, as if he was confirming his memory.

‘Which is true,’ you pulled away, happy to see you had left your mark as a small cut. ‘No civil man would teach their daughter how to draw a sword, or let a lady compromise her polite statue with violence, or put her in any compromising and potentially dangerous situation, for that matter.

‘But they will also not let an opportunity to boast go by.’ You watched him swipe his hand at the blood pooling from the cut you had made, and you could not ignore the pride you felt with it. ‘So, I observed as they made me watch them train.’

‘That much is obvious,’ he wiped his now bloody fingers on his trousers, but the blood came pouring, slowly, down his neck. A thin red line marking your moment of victory. You couldn’t help but smile. And yet, he spoke with the most confidence, leaning against the barrel that had locked him in. ‘but we’re not done yet, princess.’ And then he attacked with a strike so flush and quick you had almost missed it. It cut the air by your side in half, and you could feel the repercussions hit you in your cheek.

Of course, the game was not over just yet. The winner was meant to be the last one standing, literally. You might have locked him in, but he would not give up until he was down on his knees.

Munson attacked once more, taking advantage of the incoordination that came with his first blow. His target had become low, with a focus on your legs. He swiped at your feet with such an intensity that you knew if he hit you, it would leave its own mark and one much worse than the cut you had made. The only thing you could do to avoid his force was to backtrack, jumping from one leg to another. You moved around the ship like a dancing monkey in the circle of everyone’s attention. Your attempts to attack had become poorer as the captain’s smile grew wider.

He took one long swipe down at your ankles, to which you could only respond by jumping as high as possible. The new clothes you had taken the night before certainly aided you in the acrobatics necessary when dealing with a duelling partner such as Munson, but you still wore your own shoes. The heels buckled as you landed on the ground, throwing you off balance. You felt yourself falling, but the final drop never came.

Your side hit someone’s sturdy frame. When you looked up, your eyes met a pair of brown ones. Brown, surrounded by a sea of dark purple bruises. Harrington held you up with one arm.

‘Your footing is all wrong,’ he spoke softly, but not enough to keep it a secret between the two of you as he pulled you up to your feet.

‘Funny, as I was just copying you,’ you laughed.

The captain called out to you impatiently. ‘C’mon, princess, the fun isn’t over yet.’ But perhaps it was, as he went in for a poorly calculated strike, and you screamed out, silencing everyone to their core, bending in two as a searing pain met your side. Still holding you, Harrington kept you up as much as he could. A task that came harder to be when you went limp. He stumbled back, almost falling over himself.

When you looked down, you saw your shirt, brand new in a sense, now had a large gash. The bottom half of it hanging on by loose threads. What once was pale ivory was now coloured crimson. You looked up at your attacker, who stood only a few feet away, his weapon hanging loosely in his grip. Higher, you saw his eyes, big in fear. An indescribable expression was painted across his face, but you hoped that he could read yours.

Trying to ignore the pain that was now overwhelming your whole body, you pushed yourself away from Harrington and passed the captain. His hand reached out to you, but you froze before he could anchor himself. Before getting yourself into more trouble, as a million thoughts raced through your mind, you dropped the sword to the ground. It fell onto the floorboards with a deafening clatter, and like that, you walked on quickly to the trapdoor, ignoring the captain’s calling of your name and the feeling it brought upon you to hear it for the first time in so long. There were more important, more painful things on your mind now.

Everyone moved out of your way, but their eyes stayed on you until you passed them. Robin had just reached the bottom of the stairs down from the helm, but she stood there just as everyone else, unsure what to do. She glanced at what was happening behind you, as you could hear people talking and moving but could not bother to turn around. You just wanted to get away from it all. The last thing you heard before heading below deck was someone angrily calling out the captain’s name, but it all felt like a blur around you.

Only once you were in your cell did you dare look at the damage he had caused. With a deep breath, you pulled the shirt’s material up to reveal a long narrow cut on your ribs. The only thing that made you feel alright was the fact that it did not look deep. As far as sword wounds go, it was a graze, but the blood continued streaming. And so did your tears. But you let that pain, and fear, boil down to anger and strength to rip the last few inches of the loose hanging pieces of shirt and wrap them around your middle as tightly as possible to stop the bleeding.

This is what happens when you let your guard down when you do not run away and instead stay and let yourself be hurt by these monsters. You did not what to think that Robin and Harrington had been a play, some kind of ruse of the captain’s invention to give you that fake sense of security, to slip you into dropping your apprehensions and lead you to… where you were now, bleeding out on the heap of hay, back in your cage.

With your heart beating into your ears, you didn’t realise that someone had followed you down to the lower deck, or hear the footsteps coming down to see you, nor the chuckle of the chains and buckles that came with the steps.

‘For what it’s worth,’ he said once he had already stepped into your holding cell, ‘I am truly sorry.’

You had no idea what it was lying beside you, but you grabbed it and, without saying a word but with as much power as you could muster, you threw it in the general direction of his face. With a small lean, he managed to dodge it and the item fell through the railings of the cell to shatter on the ground. You stared at him darkly, hoping the message was clear. He had never seemed to be able to do it, but maybe this one time, he could let you be alone…

Of course, it could not be that simple. He would not start listening to you now. Instead, the captain bent down to his knees, meeting your line of sight. In his hand, he held one of the bottles from his drawer.

‘Please, may I?’ he showed you the spirit bottle, and you got the idea of what he meant with it. It still took you a moment to formulate your response as you took it all in. ‘No, you may not.’ With a snap of your words, you removed the bottle from his grip and pulled the cork out with your teeth. You kept it in your mouth as you poured the alcohol over your fresh wound. The groan that left you as the alcohol burned away at the wound was only slightly muffled.

‘It was never my intention to hurt you.’ He said in that same, defeated tone.

‘And yet,’ you had spit out the cork, this time hitting him in the chest, ‘that seems to be what happens any time you come near me.’

‘There is no excuse for me, I know whatever I will say will mean nothing to you.’ He watched you scoff at his response. ‘See?’

‘What are you doing here?’ You sighed, already tired of his presence. To think that maybe not an hour had gone by since you had woken up, moderately at peace, in his cabin and now you were lying before him, hands covered in blood and spirit, and your mind dizzying with pain and rage.

‘How– how bad is it?’ There was a shake in his words, and you could not understand whatever for. Each move you made sent shocks down into your ribs, but as you did not feel like saying much more to him, you tilted your arm up to show the severity of the cut. The alcohol had washed off most of the excess blood and left behind the thing and precise cut over your side. Munson looked at it and another muscle in his face flinched at the sight of what he has caused. ‘It does not seem to be perilous.’

‘Yes, considering I am not dead I had figured as much.’ As you still had the bottle in your hand, you lifted it up to your lips and took a large sip. The burn at your throat was comparable to the feeling of the liquid touching your wound, but it was much more appreciated. After one more sip, you looked back at Munson. ‘Anything else, captain?’

‘No, I— I do not know what came over me, and I will not forgive myself for what I have done.’ He was stumbling over his words, but those he managed to produce left you in a whirl. How genuine it all was, you could not tell, but the deep regret he seemed to have reflected in his being. But you had learned your lesson to fall for such weaknesses.

‘Yes, it must be horrible seeing your investment get compromised.’ You took another swig of the drink. The captain opened his mouth to respond, but decided against it. He stood up already turned to leave when a final thought came to you.

‘From what I remember of the rules of the game,’ your words paralysed him mid-step as you called out, ‘I never fell to my knees.’ He, however, had.

The captain turned enough for you to see his profile and how the corner of his mouth turned up in amusement. ‘Fine, you win.’ Then he continued walking up to the ladder.

You smiled to yourself as he left.

You won.

Chapter 6

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

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taglist (part 1)

@nope-thanks @seventhlevelofhell @luna-munson83 @hangmanscoming @blueberrylemontea-fanfic @vintagehellfire @raven-rust @eddiesguitarskills @taccobelle @imjusteddietrashatthispoint @lunar-corgimon

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#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson au #eddie munson series #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson angst #eddie munson writing #eddie munson #fanfiction #pirate au #au #pirate fanfiction #pirate!eddie #dark!eddie #dark!fic #enemies to lovers

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shadowhandss60 · 7 months

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He’s a 10 but…

(Throne of Glass edition)

Rowan: He’s a 10 but he punched you in the face and said it would be better if you died 10 years ago

Dorian: He’s a 10, but he dipped after you proposed to him and then proposed to some other b*tch the next day.

Lorcan: He’s a 10 but he thought you were a child when he first saw you.

Chaol: He’s a 10 but he’s in love with his best friend.

#WHOOP #throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #dorian havilliard #lorcan salvaterre #chaol westfall #aelin ashryver galathynius #celaena sardothien #manon blackbeak #elide lochan #yrene towers #yrene westfall #rowaelin #manorian #elorcan #chaolrene #throne of glass memes

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brechtian · 5 months

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(Mostly Signed!! YA + Sanderson) books I own and am extremely willing to sell for cheaper than average listings bc I don’t want them anymore. a lot are hardcovers (heads up most are signed but some include personalization with my name sorry. if ur name is Ella congrats tho). All are very very good quality or like new bc I was delicate with my books when I was younger (prices are for the lot of every book described in a listing and all are negotiable!)

Six of crows & crooked kingdom (1st/1st) both signed - $90 + shipping

Shadow & bone (hc) and siege & storm (pb) both signed and original covers - $75 + shipping

divergent books, all signed with inscriptions - $100 + shipping

mistborn second gen (wax and wayne), bands of mourning is a signed 1st/1st, alloy of law is a used 1st/1st, shadows of self is a used 1st/1st. $150 + shipping SOLD

Alloy of law 1st/1st former library copy - $45 + shipping

Steelheart by Brandon Sanderson trilogy, firefight & calamity 1st eds hardcovers; steelheart just paperback. $35 + shipping SOLD

hardcover signed copies of first dragonsteel editions of legion and legion: skin deep by Sanderson, rare - $75 + shipping SOLD

Darkest minds trilogy + companion novel, first two books signed, all except first book hardcover - $80 + shipping

All of lunar chronicles and fairest signed; cress, winter, & fairest are hardcovers and 1st/1sts as well. Winter has an exclusive stamp. All include personalizations “To Ella” - $125 + shipping

heartless and renegades by meyer signed hardcover 1st/1sts with inscriptions - $50 + shipping

First five books & companion novel for throne of glass, all first ed hardbacks except the first one I believe. Queen of shadows is signed and has the empire of storms signature tour stamp, empire of storms is signed, and heir of fire has the empire of storms tour stamp. Lot is $500 + shipping, individual book prices vary. SOLD

First two acotar books with original covers, both hardbacks. Acotar is first printing. Acomaf is a special signed first edition/printing with a page insert declaring its special binding, first edition status, & signature. Together $250 + shipping SOLD

Literally the entire The Last Apprentice series by Joseph Delaney none are signed but I own all fucking thirteen and the companion book in original covers, mix of paperback & hardback - $100 + shipping

Grave mercy (paperback) & mortal heart (hardcover) both signed - $45 + shipping

The Entire selection trilogy & sequel trilogy all signed. Sequel trilogy are all hardbacks, original trilogy paperbacks. - $185 + shipping

Boys I loved before trilogy + summer I turned pretty, all signed except for always and forever Lara Jean. Mix of hardcover and paperback. - $100 + shipping

Anna and the French kiss trilogy, last two books are signed, all paperback and the colored cityscape covers - $50 + shipping

Everything everything by Nicola yoon signed paperback + sun is also a star signed hardcover - $95 + shipping

Unsigned lot of 5 rainbow Rowell books, four of which are hardbacks; carry on & landline are 1st/1sts - $95 + shipping

Ember in the ashes first three books by sabaa tahir, first two signed paperbacks; third one unsigned hardcover - $60 + shipping

Brandon Mull: signed hardcover holographic copy of the first beyonders book, all the fablehaven books (all paperback mix of new and old covers, but all are signed except book 5, and book 1 is double signed.), and signed hardcover first ed of dragonwatch - $110 + shipping

Not signed but I do own the entire Artemis fowl series minus the time paradox: $70 + shipping (mixed paper and hardback)

Daughter of smoke and bone trilogy by Laini Taylor all signed paperbacks in original covers - $125

Scythe & thunderhead, thunderhead is signed - $60 + shipping

Original pjo covers all paperback, the lightning thief and battle of the labyrinth are signed SOLD for $200

I also have pjo hardcover the ultimate guide with the holo cover and all of the trading cards like new and demigod diaries both 1st/1sts! - $60 + shipping

Heroes of Olympus series original covers, son of Neptune is signed. Last four books in the series are all hardcover 1st/1sts. - $125 + shipping SOLD

Pjo greek gods and Greek heroes hardcover. Heroes is signed by Rick and John Rocco, both first editions - $100 + shipping

Kane chronicle trilogy original covers, serpents shadow is 1st/1st hardcover, other 2 paperbacks - $40

Illuminae files trilogy first two books signed, all three books hardcover first editions - $200

Way of Kings signed hardback like new/unread - $100 + shipping

Hardcover signed copy of Oathbringer - $130 + shipping

Well of Ascension signed hardcover like new - $150 SOLD

Elantris signed no printing number - $150 SOLD

Warbreaker signed and inscribed w/ my name, former library copy - $95

Arcanum Unbounded signed hardcover first edition - $150 + shipping SOLD

Rhythm of War 1st/1st SOLD

Okay um there’s more but these r the main listings for now, see my reblog with the more comprehensive Sanderson listings if you are interested in his signed books (I have a lot!).

#pjo #cosmere #tlc #marissa meyer #Brandon Sanderson #idk trying to get the big names in the first five tags. there’s so much tho.#see reblogs for update with the Sanderson listings!#I literally do not read YA so if ppl don’t claim these they’re getting shipped off to the local used bookstore to give me credit to buy #more playssss :)#also I opened up my dms so if you wanna ask abt anything just lmk #I truly have such. an absurd amount of signed books. this after giving away so many and excluding all the lesser known ones #very okay w ppl reblogging this btw! I want them sold!

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beels-burger-babe · 11 months

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For Forever With You pt. 2

***This. Took. So. Much. Longer. Than. I. Wanted. It. Too. BUT IT'S DONE! Thank you all so much for being patient while I finished school and took a break, but I am BACK and I am so so glad to be. I hope you all enjoy this lovely little fic! -B***

Summary: A mortal human and an immortal wizard dating is great until something bigger than the world shakes them. War starts in the human world, and the supernatural worlds around them and Solomon can only watch as everything he has carefully nurtured for the past few years begins to crumble.

Part 1

Late 1930s

It turned out that life with you was riveting.

Solomon could hardly remember the last time he had felt so young and free.

With you, he took time to stop and smell the roses. With you, a decade that would usually be an insignificant droplet in his life has become a vibrant waterfall. With you, he is aware of every second, of every step, of every breath that he takes and just how valuable and rare they are to be shared with you.

He treasured you in a way that he hadn't treasured anything since he last sat on a throne in the days of old.

But just as his crown was eventually taken from him, so were the days of peace, joy, and love that he shared with you.

Lightning cracked outside your apartment windows as rain rattled the glass panes. He stood there, gaping at you as you walked around your apartment, packing your things.

"No," he whispered. "MC, please, you can't do this."

You glanced back at him in sympathy as you shook your head. "I'm sorry, Solomon. But you've heard the news; war is on our door step. I can't just sit back and watch, not when I have skills that help."

He gritted his teeth as he clenched onto the enlistment papers you had handed him to read — the very papers with your name written all over them. "If war is really coming, then we can go somewhere away from the war. Away from all of this."

You frowned as you blinked at your partner. "Wait, what?"

Solomon shoved a hand into his suit pocket, quickly magicking a wad of cash into existence before pulling it out in front of you. Your eyes bulged at the sight. "We run. We leave this damned country together. Somewhere the war will never find us. Somewhere safe."

You sighed as you put your hand over his and gently pushed the money back towards him. "I can't. These are my people. My friends. My co-workers. I can't just abandon everything when there's something I can do about it." Keeping your hands on his, Solomon's breath caught in his throat as you pulled him closer to you. "I'm sorry. I understand that you're concerned. But think of it this way, I'm drafted as a telegrapher. I won't even be on the front lines-"

"The front lines don't matter when there are bombs involved," He couldn't help but hiss back, his hands twisting around the money to grip tightly onto yours. "Hospitals were targeted last time. Camps obliterated. What if you're there when- Please, love. I ... I don't want to lose you."

He couldn't lose you. Not yet. Not this soon. He thought he still had decades left with you, not hours.

Your expression softened as you leaned forward and gently pecked Solomon's lips. He savored the sensation of your soft touch like as though it was his final breath of air before death. He clung to every second of your attention and affection that you gifted him with grasping, never-satisfied, hands.

He leaned into your delicate touch, as you cupped his cheek and pulled away. "Solomon, I will do everything in my power to come back to you. Just ... Promise that you'll be here for me when I return."

He closed his eyes, putting of his weight against you as he pulled his lips into a thin line. He wanted to make that promise, but there was more than one reason why he was asking you to run away with him.

You weren't the only one being called to fight — only his was with greater powers that he had been hiding from you.

"I'll do my best," he whispered instead. His heart clenched as he squeezed tightly onto you. "And ... When all this is all done, when we find each other again ..." his heart ached as he met your confused stare, "We never leave each other again. We ... We become forever."

He watched as your breathing halted and realization slowly lit behind your eyes. "A-Are ... Solomon, are you saying that you want to-"

He gathered your lips with his, suffocating the words before they dared enter the world. "Don't say it. Not yet. When all this is over."

You shakily nodded, new tears lining your eyes as you stared at him. "O-Okay. When this is over."

It turns out that was all easier said than done.

The war wasn't quick — Solomon didn't know why he expected it to be. It dragged on for a torturous amount of time filled with seemingly endless evolutions of ways to tear each other apart. Not a day went by that he didn't think of you and yet ...

He hadn't dared to send you a letter, or contact you in anyway.

Solomon didn't doubt that you had attempted to reach him, but he wasn't anywhere close to his normal address. He was traveling across realms, taking part in the supernatural side of the war. He was constantly surrounded by beings who had the ability to snuff out mortal lives with the snap of his fingers — he couldn't let them know about you.

So he went silent. He never spoke of you to anyone. He kept an eye on you and where he knew you were drafted from a distance and ensured that you were safe.

He hated it. God, he hadn't known that being apart from someone could hurt so badly. But he knew it was for the best.

Years passed. Victory was finally earned. The violence and blood shed began to settle, and the world became still once more.

So now he stood outside of the apartment that he hoped you still called home, a bouquet of blue hyacinths in hand and fear stewing in his gut.

With a deep breath, he raised a hand, and knocked on the door.

"Just a moment!"

Several locks clicked and suddenly you were there, looking just as captivating as the day you left.

Your eyes widened as they met his, your butter-soft, kissable lips parting shock. "Solomon," God, he missed the sound of his name dripping from your tongue.

"Hello," he whispered in adoration.

Hearing his voice seemingly shook you out of whatever stupor you had been in, as the beautifully stunned expression on your face melted into fierce furociousness and you began to slam the door.

The wizard quickly stepped forward and caught it. "MC, please! Just a moment!"

"No!" You shouted from behind the door. "You do not get to skip back into my life after abandoning me during a literal war!"

Solomon winced as the heavy oak door rammed against the side of his foot. "My love-"

"You don't get to call me that," you snapped, the door ripping back open. He nearly choked on his own spit at the heat behind the glare you were pointing at him. "I wrote to you daily. I called. And not once did I receive word back. I tried to visit you in the middle of all this mess, you know," you stepped out from your doorway and was now standing nose-to-nose with Solomon. "You weren't home. I asked about you, and even our closest neighbors somehow didn't know who you were. I thought you were dead, Solomon!" His chest ached at the utter grief in your voice as you screamed at him. Your lip quivered as a broken gasp bubbled up them. "Where were you? I- I needed you, and you left me after everything! After you- You had hinted that-"

He moved closer to you, regret pooling in his stomach regardless of how he knew his actions were for the best. Although you may not have wanted to be anywhere near him at this exact moment, he couldn't stand there and watch you fall apart. Without another word, he gathered you tightly into his arms, pulling you as impossibly close as he could and curling himself around you.

For the first time since he first saw your name on your enlistment papers, he could breathe.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as you sobbed into his chest, your balled fists punching against him. "I'm so sorry for leaving you alone. I ... I thought I was protecting you."

Your movements stilled at his explanation. "What do you mean? Are you a spy?"

There was no stopping the snort that ripped out of him. "Oh definitely not. Just ..." he let out a shaky breath and smiled at you. "Let's take this inside. I think it's finally time that I explained a few things."

You stared at him, and for a moment he feared this was the end, that he was about to lose the only mortal that he had truly cared about for centuries. But then you sighed, and you dropped your beautiful eyes to the ground as you stepped back and pushed open the door. "Fine," you breathed and simultaneously breathed hope back into his soul. "Fine. Come in, just ... Talk."

He nearly fell to the ground in relief, but quickly walked in, whispering thank yous under his breath as he did.

After an awkward silence as you made tea (complete with a splash of rum) and some cold sweets you tossed onto a plate, you met him back in the living room and sat sternly across from him. "You have one and only one chance," your words blew over him like the tundra's wind. "Speak."

He swallowed thickly, wiping his unusually calmy palms on his pant legs before taking a deep breath. "This ... This is going to sound insane. You might not believe me, but please, trust that I am telling the truth," your eyes narrowed suspiciously on him as you took a sip of your tea. He nodded in acknowledgment of your attention. "I'm a wizard, an immortal one at that. I was called by the powers of Heaven and Hell to fight the supernatural elements of the war and, as I do every time I leave a location, I wiped the memories of our peers before departing." You looked at him, face remaining neutral, before you slowly set down your drink. "Get out," you hissed, the venomous anger that lay barely restrained under your skin, finally beginning to break loose.

Solomon's heart plummeted. "Love, please. I promise, I'm telling the truth!" You laugh, your expression morphing into one of pure disbelief. "Are you kidding me?! Wizards? Supernatural? Do you even hear yourself?" You choked on your words as you shook your head at him. "If you wanted to lie, you could've done so without mocking my intelligence. Get out."

"I can prove it!" He shouted desperately, rising to his feet. "I can show you!" Without waiting for a response, he began moving his hands in familiar semantics, whispering incantations under his breath as glyphs float in the air for a moment before suddenly a large tome apparated into existence and dropped into his hands. He rushed towards you, flipping open the book and showing you the contents. "This is my spell book. Every spell I've ever created and/or mastered is in here. Look for yourself."

Your eyes widened, jaw dropping a little as you took in the display and the book now being thrust into your hands. You shakily flipped through the fragile pages and sure enough there was page after page of strange symbols and words written in a language you didn't understand. There was a tingling presence to the book that ran through your fingertips up your arms and caused you to shiver.

Solomon slowly comes to stand beside you, watching you take in the precious artifact in your hands. "I wasn't lying," he whispered softly. "I didn't want to go. They didn't give me a choice. Then it was too dangerous for me to stay in contact. I didn't want to risk you getting pulled into an ever greater war than you were already fighting."

At that moment, he wished he could read your mind. Your lips pursed as you continued flipping through the pages. His stomach twisted in knots the longer you perused. There was always the chance that you still wouldn't believe him and would brush him off. There was always the possibility you would believe him, but would be disgusted and would turn him away regardless.

It had all happened before. He didn't want it to happen again. Not with you. But he had no say in the matter.

The snap of the books pages slapping shut pulls his attention back to you as you look up at him. You silently hand it back to him and then you stare. Your eyes dig deep into his soul, they crawl under clothes and beneath his skin, they bury themselves into every mark on his flesh, until they close and you let out a tired sigh, falling against your chair. "That's- It's a lot to take in Solomon," you breathe.

He nods, shifting on his feet and trying to get some grasp on your body language, but the mask you've built for yourself is carefully locked in place and no longer budges for him. "I know," he whispers. "I know it is. But that's the truth, dearest. That's why I left. It's why no one remembers me, but you. Please believe me." You sigh, and run a hand through your hair. "I do, I just-" you cut yourself off, troubled eyes looking into the distance but not truly seeing anything. "This brings out so many more questions. How many other lies did you tell me? If you really are this immortal powerful being, what are you doing here? Why-" Your voice cracks and you finally look at him again — tears, that he has always hated but is now the cause of, lining your eyes. "Why did you chose to haunt me?" He can't handle it. He moves closer, getting down on his knees before you as he takes your hands into his own. "I don't haunt you. I don't have that ability," he lightly jokes before getting serious once more and coming just a little bit closer until your legs brush against each other. "I love you. It's true that I have told you lies before to protect my identity and keep you safe, but that has always been true. I stayed here because I love you. You enchant me, MC. In ways that, even with hundreds of lifetime's of knowledge, I cannot begin to understand," your breath hitches as he runs his thumbs across your knuckles. He leans in and ever so delicately presses a kiss to them.

"Please," he begs with the voice of a broken man whose only thing he had to lose was sitting before him. "I don't want to lose you. Not when we still have time. Let me prove myself to you again. No more lies. Just you. Just me." You hands slip out of his, and a single finger comes under his chin, tilting it up until he was looking at you. For the first time that evening there was something different glimmering in your eyes — a willingness and acceptance. "Alright," you say. "You get one more chance," your other hand swoops around to caress his hair, brushing it up and back away from his face lovingly. "Show me your strange funky world, magic man. All of it this time. Show me the real, Solomon." His body slumps in relief, silver eyes overflowing with the love for you that he has been floating in without you being there to share it with. "I will," he nearly whines. "I will. I promise." And he did. It wasn't easy, but he spent the next year showing you all that he had always fought so hard to keep secret. He introduced you to magic, to other strange and greedy witches. He showed you his demon pact symbols that are burned into his skin, and brought back delicacies from the other realms and taught you about their existance. Slowly, you were introduced to a whole other layer of the man you were already enamoured with. A man who wasn't sketchy or mysterious as people so often thought him to be — but who was curious, childlike in his wonder, and hungry for the knowledge of everything around him.

This Solomon was lighter, even happier than the one you loved before.

And after a year of magic and witches and spells and demons and angels, you approched Solomon as he worked on a potion in your kitchen and pulled out a ring.

You asked to marry this strange wonderful man, and Solomon felt the worlds around him still. You asked to stay by his side, not just for this life time, but to aid you in doing so forever, and Solomon felt the air escape his lungs.

You asked to swear yourself to him and him to you in a pact that no magic could ever comprehend, and Solomon's heart nearly exploded alongside the potion on the stove.

With shaking hands, and trillion reassurances, he said yes. And with a single potion, a piece of paper, and beautifully personal ceremony the two of you were bound together, until the ends of time. It took another month after your marriage and consumption of your immortality potion for him to realize that this was real.

He would never be alone again. ***Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah, I've been trying to write this for so so so long and I'm so happy I finally got it done! Thank you all so much for your patience and hanging around while I worked on these two! I love them so much. I hope you guys do too! Thanks! -B***

Taglist:

@thegrimgrinningghost @henry-and-the-seven-lords @satans-beloved-riv @cosmixbun @sufzku @obey-mes-treasure @kissed-by-a-dementor @yukihaie @justtiarra @mammoneybb @poly-bi-mf @burrixino @pumpkins-mainside-blog @acousticpen @sucker-for-angst-and-fluff @itskrispy @10paradox10 @vallison-rea @ivoryclive @newfangled-artistry @pumpkinpatchkid @chirikoheina @sailboat21 @theother4 @todoroses @circus-of-freaks @mcx7demonbros @bloopthebat @simpinginthecorner

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cutetinyartist · 10 months

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G/T July Day 3: Impulsive

[For this prompt I did a short fic + illustration of Bowuigi!!]

Synopsis: When Princess Peach sets up Bowser and Luigi on a Blind-Date (after they've so obviously been hitting it off whenever Luigi visits Bowser in his Prison Chambers), the romantic atmosphere leads to an impulsive embrace...

Characters:

Luigi, Tiny!Bowser and Toad (tho he's barely in it- Also, these are the Movie Versions of the characters and this takes place a few months after the Movie~)

Word-Count: 1,138

Bowser eagerly adjusted his little white bowtie as he stood on the nicely decorated table (that to him was now approximately a third of the size of his former throne-room). When a few Toads had entered his prison chambers a few hours prior and told him to prepare for a date, he truly thought the Princess was finally willing to give him a chance! Although, there was another human who'd been on his mind a lot more over the past few months...

...

Luigi fidgeted nervously as he approached the fancy restaurant. The Princess had told him just a day ago that she was setting him up on a Blind-Date with, "a guy I just KNOW you'll love, even if it seems strange at first!" He honestly wasn't 100% sure what she'd meant by that, but he trusted her word.

"Hey, Luigi! You're just in time!" Toad enthusiastically greeted him at the door, wearing a uniform typical of a waiter in this sort of establishment, "If you'll just follow me I'll show you to your table! This place is normally super busy right now, buuut the Princess made sure it'd be empty especially for you and your Date!" Toad wittered on as he led Luigi across the restaurant...

The plumber felt his knees go weak as his gaze landed on the table and he locked eyes with the King Koopa, looking just as shell-shocked as he did.

"So! I'll just leave your menus here, I'll be back shortly for your order aaand I'll leave you two to your date!" Toad couldn't hide his shit-eating grin as he practically dragged Luigi into his chair before hurrying away to the kitchen.

"LUIGI? YOU'RE my date??" Bowser growled, feeling a fiery blaze in his stomach (even though at this size he was unable to actually breathe any flames). He had to crane his neck to even see the gangly plumber's blushing face, towering above him.

"B-Bowser! Hey!" He could only stammer, "I- uh- h-how have you been? Um, y-y'know, since I last saw you... yesterday..." He trailed off, seeing Bowser's unimpressed facial expression.

"JUST BECAUSE YOU VISIT ME ALMOST EVERY DAY DOESN'T MEAN I- THAT I'M-" He sighed angrily, "Was this your idea?"

"What? No! I-I mean- I HAVE thought about m-maybe asking you out a few times, I guess-"

"You- you have? Really?" His tough facade cracked slightly, and he tried to ignore the butterflies he briefly felt at that confession.

Luigi nodded, at a sudden loss for words. There was something so cute about how the tiny Bowser's demeanour had shifted, he thought to himself.

"Huh, nobody's ever wanted to ask me out..." Bowser thought, noticing the soulful sincerity in Luigi's sky-blue eyes, "I suppose I could at least indulge him a little, just for tonight..."

...

Once the initial shock had worn off, and the two had settled down and eaten their meals (Luigi had just gone for spaghetti, whereas Bowser had managed to devour an entire steak), the conversation was flowing just the same as it would when Luigi would normally visit Bowser.

"Those stupid Toads didn't even give me a chair!" Bowser grumbled, getting a bit fed up with sitting on the table's wooden surface. He'd been sat beside a wine-glass that was about twice his height, sipping his drink out of a shot-glass instead.

"Y-you know- if you're uncomfortable sitting there- maaaybe I- I could-" Luigi gestured vaguely with his palm, "I mean- if you want-"

Bowser rolled his eyes with a smirk, waltzing over to the sheepish giant and tugging at his sleeve impatiently, "Alright then, Weegee, lemme up."

The plumber let out a bashful giggle before lowering his hand for the Koopa to clamber onto. He just managed to suppress an "Aww," at just how tiny Bowser actually was, fitting so perfectly into the palm of his hand. He couldn't help but to admire every one of his intimidating spikes and scales, knowing how easily he could still use them to do some damage... Though, it was endearing to him how those harsh features contrasted greatly against his soft ruby hair and the softer side of his personality.

Bowser smirked again at how flustered Luigi got just by holding him. He had to admit that the blush painted across his face, just barely concealed by that cute moustache, was adorable. Plus there was just something so sweet about the fact that Luigi had gone to all the effort of wearing a pine green tuxedo (complete with a charming green bowtie and 'L' cufflinks), but had still worn his signature hat over his fluffy hair! He'd also put on the most subtle nude makeup around his shimmering blue eyes. Eyes that looked at Bowser with a sense of love that the Koopa had never truly felt before...

"It's kinda funny how you- how you towered over me before, but now I can do this!" Luigi chuckled, earning a light scowl from Bowser, "Can't say I've ever been on a date like this!"

A very noticeable blush crossed Bowser's face at that word, "Well, I can't say I've ever even BEEN on a Date. But..." By this point his tough facade had dissipated completely, "You've been a pretty great date, Weegee. I guess... love really does make a guy come out of his shell."

Luigi's entire face felt like it was burning up as, without really thinking, he impulsively leant in for a kiss. His heart was racing as his lips collided with Bowser's entire face, embracing him with nothing but pure love. Soft piano music played gently from the speakers somewhere above the two, adding to the romantic atmosphere. Bowser was honestly surprised that Luigi had made the first move, but he was so enamoured with the timid giant that he instantaneously reciprocated the passionate smooch, leaning into the plush lips and stroking his chin with clawed fingers. As the two leant even more into it, they realised just how much they'd been wanting it-

"DESSERT!" Toad suddenly burst into the scene, completely startling the duo. He seemed entirely unphased by their embrace as he delivered the sweet treats (a Chilli Chocolate Cake and a Strawberry Cheesecake).

"Oh! Um! Thanks!!" Luigi let out an anxious chuckle, still holding Bowser close to his face, "It- it looks really good!"

"Heh, you talking about the dessert or your boyfriend?" Toad teased as he walked away, internally super excited that the Princess' idea had actually worked! He chuckled as his question was met with a growl from Bowser and a yelp from Luigi, "Enjoy the food, Lovebirds!"

"Boyfriends..." Bowser muttered, making Luigi's heart skip a beat, "Huh... I could get used to that," He smiled, earning yet another surprised yelp from Luigi.

"Same here!" He grinned from ear to ear, already about to lean in for another impulsive smooch...

#gt july #gt july 2023 #g/t #giant/tiny #bowser #luigi #bowuigi #bowuigi fanfic #bowser x luigi #cutetinyartist

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barefoothighlander · 8 months

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do you guys ever fall into a reading slump because a book was SO bad… i finally finished ‘does it hurt’ after like 2 weeks and i haven’t started a new book since😭

it was just awful i’m sorry i love HD Carlton but…

current tbr is priory of the orange tree, throne of glass, cruel prince, 3rd book in b&a & serpent + wings of night

#char talks

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witchersoldier · 8 months

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To Whatever End

jj maybank x routledge!reader

SUMMARY: JJ loves you. But instead of just saying it, he reads your favorite books.

WARNINGS: (+16) kinda blasphemy but not really, reader reads sjm, guys forcing themselves on reader, drinking, rushed writing, not proof read (i just never do it) and that's all I guess. let me know if I missed something.

WORD COUNT: 1.9k

AUTHORS NOTE: this is my first jj fic, hope that's okay and not all that ooc. i used sarah j maas and her books bc they're just my favorite, if you don't like it just scroll down. english is not my mother tongue.

You can’t remember when you developed a passion for reading, it just happened. Now everywhere you go you carry a book with you, even if there’s absolutely no chance you’ll get to read it. Now, as for JJ, he absolutely remembers when he started to read books.

It was on a Friday last summer; everyone was gathered at the Chateau. John B., Pope and JJ were drinking at the porch while you, Kie and Sarah were down by the dock doing God knows what. When the sound of your laughter reached JJ’s ears he couldn’t help but gravitate towards you, pure admiration and curiosity guiding him. “Hey ladies. Just wanted to check if you still got everything you need down here? You know, drinks and snacks and- what’s that in your hand?” he asked, pointing to the huge book you held open, some phrases highlighted in a pastel red color. “I’m not surprised you don’t know what a book is.” Kiara bickered at the blonde, who scoffed and feigned offense, “I meant is this some kind of bible or some shit like that? It’s just I didn’t picture you as the religious type.” He offered the three girls an innocent smile. You’re one to always have a comeback at the tip of your tongue, but how could you say anything when JJ Maybank was looking down at you with such a pretty smile on his adorable face? “It’s not a bible, it’s fae-” Sarah brought you out of the trance as quickly as JJ put you in it. Was she really about to drop the ‘fae porn’ bomb on him like that? “It’s some shit like that, yeah” you smiled innocently at him, hoping he would just drop the subject. He squinted his eyes in an attempt to read the tittle of the book, but all he got was Sarah J. something and indistinguishable yellow letters. “We’re actually out of beer, will you bring us some?” Kiara asked a devilish smirk on her lips. JJ long forgot that’s the excuse he used to being there with you and not chatting with the guys. “I’m not your waitress, go get it yourself.” When he realized he blew his cover, there was no turning back. Sarah and Kie were already teasing him. “Well, then something else must have brought you here, right?”, “I think it was someone else, Kie.” Sarah nudged your shoulder, you pretended to be so deep in your book to notice the conversation. “More beers coming right up.” The blonde boy barely finished his sentence before sprinting back to where the guys sat.

He didn’t go back with your drinks, instead he sent John B., your brother.

•••

Later that night he unlocked his phone, googling the mysterious “Sarah J” he managed to read from your book earlier. And that’s how it started.

He read the A Court of Thorns and Roses book series. And read it quite fast, for someone who never held a book before. He would never admit it out loud, but he liked it. At first he was just curious about why you got all dodgy when he asked about the book-now he understood why-, but when he got through with the first one, he liked it. Liked to the point where he found himself sneaking into your room when nobody was home, just to see what else you had in your shelf. His eyes landed on the familiar Sarah J. Maas name, and he found a whole new book series. Throne of Glass. The series was huge. He grabbed the “Heir of Fire” one and stared flipping through the pages. Lots of highlighted texts in a color that match the cover, tabs neatly sticking out and some of your thoughts written on the pages. You were so passionate about this, he found it so endearing. JJ would give it a try. For you. And a little bit for him, too.

JJ was dropping hints your way, practically begging for you to catch up on what he’s been doing, but you never seemed to notice. Not when he said “you could rattle the stars, if only you dared” when you were worried about not being enough to get the job you wanted. Or even when he started calling you fireheart –because you reminded him of Aelin. Little did he now that your heart skipped a beat at the nickname.

The time he’s visibly caught your attention while quoting a book, the moment you knew what he was doing, was at a kegger.

You were dancing with Kie trying to enjoy the night, but you couldn’t stop looking at JJ, hoping that maybe this would be the day that he acted on you for real, not just the friendly flirting you were used to. Perhaps you should make the first move, after all he said you could rattle the stars, and you believed him dearly, so maybe you had a chance to rattle his heart. The only obstacle was the beauty he was talking to, looking too smiley for your liking. A drink. That’s what you needed. Then you could try and pour your heart out to him.

You were by the keg getting some more beer when you heard your name being called. Topper and Kelce. A blessing they were at least missing Rafe this time. The three of them always tried to have their way with you, but failing every time because your brother was always there to fight them away. Not tonight. Tonight he was with Sarah, and you were on your own.

Pretending not to hear them, you began walking to the opposite direction they were coming. “Hey Y/N, where are you going? The night is still young.” Exclaimed Topper, grabbing your wrist to stop you from going any further. Kelce came up behind you, his hand on your back pushing you to walk with him now. “Rafe’s moving the party back to his place, we would love it if you could join.” The way Kelce said that to you made you shiver in disgust and fear, Topper let go of your wrist and walked by your side, opposite to where his friend was. Your brain was running wild inside your head, trying to come up with a plan to get out of this situation. They weren’t holding you tight, so if you could just turn around between them fast enough and run back into the crowd, you’d be safe.

You kept walking with them for a few more seconds before making a run for it. And you managed to escape them, only to run into a hard chest. At first you thought it was Rafe, but then you heard his strong voice reverberating in his chest, words that had you gasping for air. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.” JJ looked into your eyes and you knew he was doing it to make sure you weren’t hurt; he would always search for answers in your eyes. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder protectively and in this moment you felt so safe, like nothing would ever get to you, he would not allow it. “Thank you for finding her for me.” He said softly, it was meant more for you to hear than for Kelce and Topper, who were standing there frustrated.

Before they could say anything or start a fight, you and JJ ran back to into the crowd. You were laughing now, as if the bad situation you were in just a few seconds ago never really happened. “Alright, Rhysand. Is there something you would like to tell me?”.

And JJ told you how he started reading after that day by the dock. You didn’t hide your surprise and didn’t hide how much joy he brought you with just a simple gesture.

Something changed since that day. You and JJ grew closer and closer. You’ve always been close to him, since he was your brother’s best friend, but still you felt like your relationship with him leveled up. And all your friends could see it too. So why can’t any of you make that final move? You felt stuck between the friend zone and a relationship. There was always those lingering touches, hugs that lasted too long, nights you two spent alone talking about your favorite character and couples, but you never talked about your feelings.

That changed the moment he decided to make the most reckless thing in his life.

•••

You and the other pogues -plus Topper, who you barely acknowledged the whole night-, just stole the cross from that train. You were running from the cops in Topper truck when JJ turned around on his bike to create a distraction. You felt your heart go with him as soon as the police car turned to chase him. “Turn the car around” you screamed to no one in particular. There was arguing going on around you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to make out what they were saying, until Topper suddenly turned around and begin racing towards JJ, towards you heart. You remained calm on the outside, but inside you were panicking, you felt like your whole body was shaking. There were so many voices screaming for you to keep focused, and then there was a loud crash, the car stopped. The whole world seemed to stop around you as you looked around to see JJ’s totaled bike, concrete blocks around it and the guy you fell in love with nowhere to be seen.

You jumped out and ran to the bike, desperately looking around. “Where’s JJ?” you pleaded with tears in your eyes. “Where is he?” pacing around, calling for him so lost in your own fear that you didn’t hear groans and footsteps until you were spun around by someone. By him. He looked like he fell off a cliff. He kind of did. JJ’s body was hurting all over, but what hurt most was seeing you crying looking so lost. “Fireheart, why do you cry?” He didn’t mean to quote one of the most heartbreaking scenes of a book in a moment like this, it just came to him naturally. After all, you are his fireheart and he can’t stand to see you cry. His words hit you straight in the heart, you couldn’t speak. So you just moved on automatic, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him like your life depended on it. JJ didn’t waste time and kissed you right back, bringing you closer by wrapping his sore arms around your waist. The kiss was the best of the both worlds. Sweet and caring, but filled with desire and a salty taste, coming from your tears still cascading down your cheeks. Breaking apart the kiss was the last thing you wanted right now, but you had to. “Don’t you ever do that again, Maybank. I thought I lost you before I even got the chance to have you” You tried to sound serious and mad, but you couldn’t, happiness filling your bones and sipping out in the form of smiles and soft touches on his hair, now all dusty.

“Don’t worry, I’d never leave you. I’m with you. To whatever end.” He said with that cheeky grin you adored. “I love you, J.” you gave him a quick kiss. “And I love you,” he seemed like he was about to say something else, but you shut him up with a snarky comment. “I swear, if you’re about to say ‘Thorns and all’ I’ll be the one throwing you off the next bridge”.

#jj maybank x reader #outer banks #jj x reader #jj maybank #rudy pankow #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #bookish #throne of glass #jj maybank x reader angst #jj maybank x reader fluff

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rainbowdaisy13 · 18 days

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Good morning, Rainbow! Here I am again with another question about lore and history. LOL I've noticed that anti-kaylors use "it's time to go" as almost a kind of mic drop in their arguments. I'm not trying to counter argue (that's a fool's errand, in my mind), but I'm wondering what this kaylor corner thinks about "it's time to go" and what the talking points about it are. What do you think?

As always, Taylor mixes in her own truth along with fantasy, things she’s read, media she’s viewed, her friends and family’s experiences, etc. Especially anything from folklore and evermore! This is intentional IMO so that she always has plausible deniability—things are confusing because bait and switches make it harder to trace a coherent timeline of anything

As far as ITTG—it’s funny to me how they can use one or two lines to confirm their beliefs and ignore the rest. To me, this song showcases many different instances in a persons life when they know they need to be done with a relationship—professional, familial, or intimate

IMO the sister/twin from your dreams line seems more applicable to DA than Karlie just based on appearance and the fact that we know for sure DA fucked with Taylors head a lot

The biggest verse for me that show Taylor is mixing folklore with her own truth are the following

“… Fifteen years, fifteen million tears

Begging 'til my knees bled

I gave it my all, he gave me nothin' at all

Then wondered why I left

… Now he sits on his throne in his palace of bones

Praying to his greed

He's got my past frozen behind glass

But I've got me”

This is so obviously a Scott B diss verse—also ties into my tears richochet to make it hit home even more for the people in the back. How can any of that be about Karlie? It can’t but if they want to stick to two sentences in one song that’s full of references to different kinds of endings when Taylor’s still writing KissGate anthems in the year of our lord 2023, I don’t know what to tell them besides good luck with that 🫡

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oh-hell-help-me · 11 months

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Day 15: Doomsday

What happened next was, as Bowser would put it, a big clusterfuck.

Luigi never expected to see a Paper Person again -never mind a psychopath whose fashion sense should have stayed in the 16th Century.

Ironically, that was the least of his worries when the whole world literally flipped on its axis.

“LU-!“

His stomach turned when he realized that was BOWSER, and he wants to reassure him, but-

He’s alone now.

Except-

“Now then.”

That figlio di puttana-!

“Let’s get this show started!”

Mario hadn’t expected to see the Paper version of himself again, or even Paper Peach and Bowser.

He just wishes it was under better circumstances…

“Dimentio?”

Paper Peach nods, “He’s a magician we’ve met before. We thought we’d ended his game, but…”

“The idiot seems to think HE could just waltz in and 'destroy all worlds'!” Paper Bowser seems to be angrier than usual, and it gives Mario near whiplash whenever he thinks about his calmer (nowadays, anyway), fleshy counterpart. “So we're here to finish the job!”

“But why is he here?”

Mario feels something in his stomach sink when they all share a look.

“...We think he's trying to get your Luigi.”

And just like that, Mario felt like the world was ending.

"Why?!"

"I would like to hear the answer as well."

It's a near miss when Mario lashes out, feeling too overwhelmed- where's Luigi, he needs to get to Luigi- but not enough to not recognize the familiar sight of Kamek.

To his credit, the Magikoopa barely flinches as he floats on his broom.

“Kamek?!” At least everyone else was just as surprised.

"You weren't at the throne room, but I figured I could follow the sound of your shouting." His gaze seemed to sharpen, even if his eyes were hidden by his glasses. "Why is he here? And if so-"

Wait, why is he here-

"Are his abilities great enough to overpower transportation wards?"

Mario felt sick- surely he misunderstands--

The tense atmosphere says otherwise.

oH fu- "Can you take us to the castle?!"

He barely registers the confusion and surprise of the Paper versions before there was a poof-

And find themselves in the midst of mayhem.

Bowser wasn't thinking straight, but screw anyone who faults him for it!

He didn't register the newcomers as anything other than possible threats, and Mario and Peach were pushing it as they approached HIS NEST AND KIDS-

And then a wave of calm washed over him, a blue haze rolling over his scales with familiarity-

Kamek.

The world is less overwhelming, but the 'talk' that came after threatened to have his temper override the magic.

It felt like the world was ending for Bowser. Hell, their world's doomsday is technically on a countdown, if Paper Peach was to be believed.

Dimentio… a stupid, regretful name if you ask him.

And the fact that this guy kidnapped Luigi?

That the shitty jester plans to use him- have Luigi kill millions against his will? The same Luigi who Bowser watched as he cried over a smushed butterfly?

That Luigi might be somewhere alone, scared, maybe even hurt? Especially after...?

That Luigi's scared face might be the last thing he sees-?

When he finds the damned smiley fuck-

T H E R E W O N ' T B E A N Y T H I N G L E F T T O R E G R E T.

Luigi couldn’t remember- what did he do whatdidhedo-

The- jester- Dimentio- he had this heart- it won't stop beating stopbeatingSTOPBEATING-

It hurts to think about how he BrOkE hIm is breakinghim- he can't concentrate with that DaNnAtO lAuGhTeR- hAhaHaha-

GeT OUTGETOUTGET-

"It seems you are a bit more... resilient in this dimension." He hates-DESPISES that sMiLe- "Here, let me help you~."

And then, it went dark.

And Luigi couldn't help but be glad.

#bowuigi #KAIJUNE Prompt #HAPPY PRIDE MONTH #also Jack@** Jester warning #also #Luigi cursing #Bowser rubbed off on him apparently #also next post is art #pray for me #and my patience #SPM #and #SPM characters

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raspberryfingers · 1 year

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A Lion in the Garden -Tywin Lannister x Reader- (Part 10)

With the war over, the mood within the Red Keep seemed generally improved. This was especially true for Tywin and my grandmother, who no longer had to strain their pockets. Of course, the Lannister mines still supplied tremendous wealth, but why spend money when it’s not needed?

More than anything, I’d been happy to report the news back to Tywin.

I could recall vividly returning to the Red Keep—with nobody except for my family and Tywin being aware of why I’d left at all—and making my way up the stairs in the Tower of the Hand.

When I’d been let into Tywin’s office, he had looked at me with an almost relieved face.

“(Y/N), you’re back. When I hadn’t received a raven- well it had made me nervous,” he’d said, rising from his desk and making his way toward me.

“What happened? You got here quicker than any spies could have.”

When I had merely smiled at him, he’d instantly understood. He had smiled at me then, and he took me into his arms.

“I told you I could convince him, Tywin.”

“Oh I know, dear girl. I never doubted you. If anyone in the seven kingdoms was going to convince Robb Stark, it had to be you,” he’d whispered, admittedly making me blush.

“You flatter me, Tywin.”

“I’m merely telling the truth. I’m proud of you. What other man or woman that you know could’ve done that? Ended a years long war overnight. Only you, (Y/N). My nightshade of the garden.”

And even besides Tywin, I had received thank you’s from everyone but Cersei. Even Joffrey had called me into the throne room and told me I’d done a good job. Though, he did say he would’ve preferred Robb Stark dead, but I was saving him money. It was abundantly obvious Tywin had told him to thank me, but at least he’d done it.

Still, it did not make me hate the boy any less. Especially when I remembered he was going to marry Margaery at the end of the week. It was that event which had brought all sorts of people to King's Landing, and had made living in the Red Keep miserable.

Although, I was informed that the Red Viper, or Oberyn Martell, was present in the city. After learning that, a genius idea sparked in my head. When I presented it to my grandmother, she approved wholeheartedly. And so now, I found myself in Littlefinger’s brothel, hoping to have a nice conversation with the prince of Dorne.

Thankfully, when I walked in, everyone still had their clothes on.

“Prince Oberyn?”

A head shot up from among the bodies, and everyone else on the bed seemed to notice I was there.

“I am Prince Oberyn, who are you?” He asked, sitting up and looking at me.

“I’m (Y/N) Tyrell, your grace. I’ve come here to speak with you about something rather important,” I announced. He gave me a contemplative look, and then motioned for everyone else to leave, including a woman who he kissed rather passionately. I assumed that was Ellaria Sand.

When the room was empty, he sat at the edge of the bed and raised an eyebrow.

“What is it you’ve come to discuss, Lady (Y/N)?” He asked, reaching for his glass of wine and taking a sip.

“It’s less of a discussion and more of a proposition for you, Prince Oberyn, as your hatred for the Lannisters is rather well known,” I began, taking a seat on a nearby couch. I tried not to think about it too much.

“Are you here to blackmail me? Everyone knows you and Lord Tywin are quite close,” he remarked, crossing his arms and sighing. I chose to ignore the last comment.

“No, I’m not. I’m hoping this will be beneficial for both of us, granted you’re bold enough to do what I’d like you to,” I said, watching his curiosity be piqued.

“And what is that?”

“Prince Oberyn, I’m sure you’ve heard all the stories about our king. He is cruel, stupid, and unwilling to actually rule Westeros,” I began, giving some context for what I was going to ask.

“Of course.”

“Let me ask you, would you want your sister to marry someone like Joffrey?”

He sat up straighter, and his eyes darkened.

“No, but it’s not as if she could, because under someone’s orders, the mountain murdered her and her children.”

“I’m aware, Prince Oberyn. That’s why I’ve come to you, because you have quite a lot of reason to want revenge on the Lannisters, and I want Joffrey gone,” I said, hinting to him what I needed.

“You want me to kill the king?”

He did not sound surprised, or shocked. In fact, a small grin began to tug at his lips.

“No. I want you to take responsibility for it. Well, unless you’d like to kill him yourself, then be my guest. You see, originally my grandmother thought we might work with Littlefinger himself, he’s got quite the network and would naturally be able to help us. However, with my brother married to Sansa Stark, that was no longer a viable person for us to reach out to. Or rather, for my grandmother to. When she revealed the plot to me, I assured her I’d be able to take care of it myself. I’ve got quite the knowledge of poisons, and I wouldn’t have a hard time getting my hands on some if I truly wanted to. So I did,” I began to explain, gauging his reaction as I spoke.

“However, therein is the problem, I’m already known as the nightshade of the garden, and Cersei does not like me very much. If her son dies of poisoning… well, I’m sure you understand how that would look,” I said, to which he nodded.

“The blame will be on you, of course.”

“Exactly, and that trial would not bode well for me, not to mention ruin nearly everything for my family. But you. When I heard about you being in Kings Landing instead of your brother, I was overjoyed. As I said, you famously hate the Lannisters for what happened to your sister, and I-“

“Not all the Lannisters. Just Lord Tywin,” he said, a slight venom in his tone. I smiled, knowing he wished to make me uncomfortable for associating with him.

“You know, Prince Oberyn, it’s a funny thing. When Lord Tywin and I first began interacting with each other, I detested him. He and I had quite the argument, and your sister was the primary reason. Yes, I have come to enjoy Lord Tywin over time, but there are many things we heavily disagree upon, and there are many things that I hate him for. What happened to your sister is in that category, and I do not blame you for hating him for it. That’s why I’ve come to you with this proposition. To kill his grandson right under his nose would infuriate him, it would make him look weak. To him, that is worse than dying,” I explained, watching the thoughts process in his head. His posture was more attentive, and I could see that slowly he was being convinced, though this conversation was clearly not over.

“Yes, it would embarrass Lord Tywin, and I would have my head removed. Because that is what you want, right? Me to admit to his murder so that you are not blamed?” He clarified, raising an eyebrow at me.

“Not necessarily. You wouldn’t have to admit to it until later. Perhaps- well, let me explain what would happen. Joffrey would be poisoned, either by you or me, at his wedding. He’d die, Cersei would be furious, naturally. Depending on how long it takes her to actually start thinking, my time is limited, but the hope is that I somehow manage to find Tyw- Lord Tywin and tell him I believe it was you. I can explain my reasoning, say that I wouldn’t have done it with poison for it would’ve been too obvious. But, if Cersei does figure it out quickly I suspect he’ll come visit me in the cells anyways. He’ll want to know if I’ve truly betrayed him that way. Which of course, I have, but it’s not for him to know,” I began, explaining the first several steps in my plan.

“But, either way, I would install the thought into Tywin, give him-“

“You keep calling him Tywin. Just Tywin. You are close to him, aren’t you?” Oberyn interrupted, beginning to grin. I took a deep breath.

“Yes, I am. I suppose I might as well just admit that I’ve fallen in love with him, as everyone else seems to have figured that out too,” I said with a sigh. Prince Oberyn chuckled.

“You’re in love with him, yet you desire to betray him. Why?”

“I don’t desire to betray him, but I will. For my sister, I will. I refuse to see her married to Joffrey, to see her harmed and used by him. His younger brother is far more agreeable, and will make Margaery much safer and happier. For that, I would do anything,” I admitted, pressing my hands together and hoping he would understand.

“You are much like I am, then. When Elia was alive, I would’ve done anything for her. She was always my favorite, always my dear sister,” he said softly, looking down and smiling solemnly.

“And that is why I’m giving you the opportunity to kill the mountain without any consequences.”

His face shot up at that, confused and curious. I smiled.

“I will instill the thought that you’re guilty into Tywin’s mind. You will leave another crystal of the poison where you sat, and will naturally be arrested. Once this happens, you will be given a trial. At that trial, don’t say a thing. They’ll ask you questions, don’t answer. Demand a trial by combat,” I said, watching as it fell into place for him.

“The Lannisters will pick the mountain to fight me, and if I win, he’s dead and there are no legal consequences for me,” he finished, making me nod.

“Exactly. Granted that you do live, of course. That is the only risk, and what I believed you’d be most hesitant about,” I reasoned.

I watched him think, and the room was silent for a good minute.

“I will beat the mountain, and I will poison Joffrey myself, that way I am truly responsible for the crime,” he finally said, looking over at me. I nodded.

“Thank you, Prince Oberyn. When you do it, do it in front of everyone. Go up to Joffrey and Margaery, both of them will have an additional glass of wine, a different kind meant for dessert. Put the poison in Joffrey’s cup, it’ll be larger than Margaery’s. Make small talk with them, come off as offensive, perhaps smell the wine and comment that it’s quite nice, then pour the poison in while he’s not looking. The point is, let people see that you were near him and touching his cup,” I explained, already having everything perfectly envisioned.

“What if the cup should spill?”

“My grandmother will have a backup. I’ve picked out The Strangler for our king,” I revealed, making my way across the room and handing Oberyn a small, purple crystal. He looked up at me and raised an eyebrow.

“Have you ever seen this poison in action before?” He asked curiously.

“No, but I know what will happen. I don’t mean to be cruel, but I already knew where to find some of this, not to mention it will dissolve perfectly in his wine,” I said, watching Oberyn get up and store it in a small box, which he locked afterwards.

“Can I tell you something, Lady (Y/N)? Since we are being honest with each other,” he asked, facing me as he leaned against the wall.

“Of course,” I said, wondering what I might hear from him.

“I was going to poison Lord Tywin. Slowly, so he wouldn’t notice, but I intended to kill him,” he revealed. My mouth fell open, and a certain fear gripped me. I would not allow Tywin to be harmed, no matter what the cost.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t done it yet, and I don’t think I will. You’re right, this embarrassment will be worse for him. And, you seem to be a reasonable woman, from all that I’ve heard and my impression of you from this conversation. You’re smart. If you are in love with Lord Tywin, I will leave him be, simply out of respect,” he said, smiling. I still felt unnerved, but I nodded.

“Thank you, Prince Oberyn. I hated Tywin for years, nearly half of my life, in fact. As I said, he’s done things I’ll never forgive nor forget, but the man he is with me… he’s not Tywin Lannister, Warden of the West and Lord of Casterly Rock. He’s just… just Tywin,” I said, thinking about the times I’d seen him engaged in politics versus how he was with me. They were two different men.

“And I would wager that to him, you are not the Nightshade of the Garden, or Lady Tyrell. To him, you are probably just (Y/N),” Oberyn replied with a smile.

“And what makes you think that?”

“You become the best version of yourself around the people that you love.”

—————

I had returned to the Red Keep, excited to report my success to my grandmother. However, when I arrived at her room, she wasn’t there. According to her guards, she was waiting for me in my room.

I sighed, wishing she’d have told me that before I’d bothered walking all that way. It was curious, too. Why would she go to my room? She knew I was going to speak with Oberyn, but I hadn’t told her before I’d left.

When I got there and went inside, I found her sitting at my table with a letter in her hand. I didn’t think much of it yet.

“Grandmother. I went to your room first, I wanted to tell you that Prince Oberyn has agreed, we had quite the conversation about it, and-“

“(Y/N), dear.”

I paused, eyebrows raising as my grandmother addressed me.

“What?”

“Come sit down with me, please,” she said softly. There was a look of sadness in her eyes, and I felt my heart drop. I had no clue what to expect, but regardless I was terrified. Had something happened to Tywin?

“What is it, grandmother?” I asked, hurrying to sit down and praying to the gods it wasn’t horrible. Or at least, something so horrible I might cry. Was it Loras? Had something happened to the Starks?

“Your father came into my room about an hour ago, far happier than he ought to have been. He gave me this,” she said, handing me the letter.

I unfolded it and immediately began to read, my throat dry and my hands shaking slightly. If my father had been happy about it, I knew it could only mean one thing.

—————

I was running up the stairs, skirts clutched in my hands and tears running down my face. My grandmother had tried to console me, but it was useless, I’d run out of the room anyways.

I nearly tripped as I tried to make my way up all the stairs in the tower of the hand, which certainly weren’t easy to climb in my current condition. When I reached the top, I was somehow sobbing even harder.

All I wanted was to see Tywin.

The guards outside his office recognized me by now, and when they saw my tears, they only looked between each other awkwardly and opened the door.

I burst in, body racking with sobs as I made my way toward Tywin. He was sitting at his desk, but when the door opened and he saw me, he instantly rose and rushed toward me.

“(Y/N)?”

I said nothing, but threw myself into his arms. I heard the door close behind me, and I finally let myself fall apart. My face was buried into his chest and gods I couldn’t stop crying. I felt his arms wrap around me, and one hand came to my head while the other was holding my waist on the other side.

“What’s wrong, (Y/N)? What happened?” He asked softly, petting my hair as I wept.

“M-My father,” I managed to get out, choking on my tears and pushing my face into Tywin’s neck. It was warm, and his scent brought a great comfort.

“Your father?”

“Walder Frey- Walder Frey sent him a letter, r-requesting that I marry his eldest son,” I cried out, clutching Tywin for dear life. In all honesty, I believed my life was over. I’d told Tywin I’d need to marry soon, but I certainly hadn’t expected it to be now, nor to a son of Walder Frey of all people.

I felt Tywin inhale, and he pulled me back to look me in the eyes.

“Don’t worry yourself about it, (Y/N), I’ll convince your father not to. I’ll convince him to-“

“No! No, Tywin, that’s just it, he’s already sent a reply and he’s accepted!” I choked out, hot tears still streaming down my face as I shook. I pushed myself back into his arms, disconsolate and an absolute mess.

Tywin was silent, and normally I would’ve thought it strange, but I was in so much distress that I couldn’t even be bothered to think about it.

“Father believed it would cause conflict to say no, especially because Tyrion is marrying one of Walder Frey’s daughters. So he sent the raven without even bothering to tell me,” I said between sobs, wishing more than anything that I could just stay in Tywin’s arms forever, that I wouldn’t have to get married to anyone.

“(Y/N), you mustn’t worry.”

“I don’t want to get married, Tywin! I don’t want to get married and I don’t want to marry one of Walder Frey’s sons. I don’t want to- I can’t- I can’t…” I was beginning to hyperventilate, so distressed at the thought of being shipped off to live at the Twins. And once that was dealt with, my name would fade away just as every other woman’s did.

“(Y/N) listen to me, I’m going to speak with your father and convince him this isn’t wise,” Tywin said, stepping back and lifting my chin so I’d look at him. I shook my head.

“That’s just it, Tywin. My father doesn’t listen to anyone. He does whatever he pleases, he’s not going to- to listen to you or me for that matter,” I said, sniffling as Tywin brought his hands to my cheeks and wiped the tears away.

It was useless, of course, they just kept falling, and I kept spiraling. My gaze fell and I continued to hyperventilate.

“I don’t want to marry Walder Frey’s son. I don’t want to marry at all! There’s only one man I’d ever marry and it’s most certainly not Walder Frey’s son! I just want to be left alone, I want to stay the head of the Tyrell army and live in peace!” I spewed, hardly even processing what I was saying. Tywin’s eyes went wide, though I hadn’t realized what I’d said yet.

“(Y/N), breathe!” He said sharply, taking my hand in his and pressing it to my chest.

“Take deep breaths. Calm down,” he said softly, watching me try to take slower, longer breaths through my tears. When I no longer sounded erratic, he dropped his hand.

“I would rather kill myself than marry him,” I whispered, lip quivering. Tywin sighed and wiped my tears again. When he finished, looked down.

“You’re not going to, I’ll make sure of it.”

“Tywin, my father-“

“I’m not going to try and convince your father. I’m going to take care of Walder Frey’s son,” he said. My eyes shot up, and I was certain the surprise I felt was painted all over my face.

“Tywin… he doesn’t need to die. I don’t want to marry him but he doesn’t- he doesn’t deserve that,” I said, truly hoping he wouldn’t do such a thing.

“I don’t care. You can’t marry a dead man. Your father can arrange as many marriages for you as he likes, I’ll make sure none of them happen. I will have every single man in Westeros murdered before I see you married to them,” he said, hand coming under my chin. My heart began to skip, and my tears were ceasing to fall. What was he insinuating? We were both silent, simply gazing into each other's eyes.

“Tywin…”

“I will never let another man have you, (Y/N). Do you understand? You may not want to be mine, but until the day I die, you will be no one else’s. I could not stand to live and watch another man make you smile, to watch him hold you and kiss you. And more than that, I won’t stand by and watch you be miserable with Walder Frey’s son. I won’t see you happy with someone else, (Y/N), but I can’t see you unhappy with anyone at all,” he whispered, hands coming to both of my cheeks as he looked deep into my eyes.

My lips parted, and my entire body felt hot. My heart would not stop racing, and I feared I must’ve looked like a fool, because I felt another tear slide down my cheek. I was utterly overwhelmed.

Tywin was in love with me?

He was gazing at me with all the love and passion in the world, and I’d never seen him look so gorgeous. His eyes were the same turquoise blue they’d been in the sept at Loras’ wedding, but he looked as if he might cry. He looked so overcome with all of his feelings, just as I was with mine.

“Tywin…” I whispered, feeling two more tears fall. He looked terrified, as if he was waiting for me to be disgusted with him. I noticed it then, a tear falling from his own cheek.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, (Y/N), please… forgive me,” he whispered. His hands fell from my face, and my heart dropped as I watched him take a step back with his eyes on the ground.

He thought his feelings were unrequited.

“No! No… Tywin… Tywin, I love you. I love you!” I managed to gasp out, my throat dry and emotions a mess. I couldn’t let this slip, I couldn’t ruin this. He’d just admitted he felt the same way I did, I needed to do something.

When he processed what I’d said, his eyes widened, and he looked me in the eyes again. I watched his lips part, and he exhaled as if he’d been holding in a breath. There was a moment of silence, and I suddenly saw something spark in his eyes.

Tywin inhaled, and stepped back towards me. One of his hands came to my face, and he was so close I could hear his breath shaking. He moved his other hand, and licked his lips nervously as if trying to figure out where to put it. All of his actions were quick, and my heart was pounding so much I thought it might explode.

His other hand settled at my waist, and when he looked at me again, I knew.

Tywin hesitated for two seconds, and then—in one swift movement—pressed his lips to mine. I instantly kissed back, and I was so relieved I thought I might sob. I brought one hand to his face, and let the other come to the back of his head and bring him closer to me.

His lips were the closest to heaven I suspected I’d ever get, and I could feel his stubble brushing against my face. The hand on my hip pulled me closer, and for a moment, we broke apart and took sharp inhales. Our eyes caught each other, and we couldn’t keep ourselves from staring and trying to catch our breaths.

“Tywin…”

“(Y/N)…”

Both of his hands came to my face now, and he simply looked at me. I wished, in that moment more than ever, that I could know what he was thinking. But he smiled at me, truly smiled, and that told me all I needed to know. I smiled too, of course, and let my eyes close as he leaned back in and pressed a soft, sweet kiss to my lips.

“Tywin I never thought you’d- you’d feel the same,” I whispered, thinking about all the times I reprimanded myself after wanting to hold him or kiss him.

He laughed, and gave me a look that said ‘really?’

“You never thought I’d feel the same? You can imagine how I felt. Most of the time I wondered if you still hated me, I-“

I gave him a look, and he realized how ridiculous he sounded.

“Yes, I apologize. I’m aware I was quite unfair to you,” he said, making me giggle with satisfaction.

“When did you- when did you realize?” He asked after a moment, swallowing anxiously.

“Well, I realized the day we discussed my brother marrying Sansa. My grandmother was prodding me about my relationship with you, and I- well, when I really thought about it I realized she was right. But I’d- I’d had feelings for you long before that. My feelings developed when we went hunting together, but I’d say I fell in love with you the day we went to the smith. You told me you’d cut that man’s tongue out, and you began to pull your sword at those men on the street. You made me- you made me feel safe, you made me feel cared for,” I admitted, trying hard to think about it. He smiled softly and kissed my forehead.

“I’ve had an attraction towards you since you yelled at me in the garden. I needed that, and it was almost like a challenge. I wanted to make you like me, simply so I could prove you wrong, and it piqued my interest. I fell in love with you the day, or rather the night we went hunting. You were asleep, and I had to move you to your blankets. You were so light in my arms, and I gave you another blanket so you wouldn’t be cold. Normally I wouldn’t even have considered something like that,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

I smiled and buried my face in his chest, wrapping my arms around his torso. Gently, his arms came around me. By the way he was breathing, I could hear him smiling. One of his hands came to pet my hair, and I felt content.

“Tywin, I don’t want anyone else to know. I just want it to be us,” I said softly, lifting my head to look at him. He nodded.

“I was going to suggest the same. I don’t want my children getting involved, nor do I want others to know I have a weak point. It’s safer if we keep it a secret, at least until- well, until our relationship is more defined,” he said, eyes scanning my face.

“How do you mean, more defined?” I asked curiously. He seemed awkward as he tried to figure out a response.

“When you said there was only man you’d ever marry, who were you referencing?” He asked suddenly. I hadn’t even remembered saying that, but as I thought back, it hit me. It had been him I was referencing, of course.

When I looked up at him with a nervous face, he only smiled.

“You mean we’d only tell people if we were to get married?”

“Ideally, yes. Of course, relationships are much different than friendships, but I hope that eventually… well, it would just be smartest to do it then, should we be compatible and willing to marry each other,” he said, taking my hands in his. I thought I must’ve been dreaming. Perhaps Robb Stark’s best wishes had been fulfilled.

“O-Of course. And I’ve- I’ve truthfully never been in any sort of, well, committed relationship. So I was hoping you’d be patient, and perhaps more understanding,” I said nervously. He gave a small chuckle and kissed my forehead.

“Of course, my dear.”

That was new. Though, I rather liked it if I was honest.

When he pulled back, a question seemed to be on the tip of his tongue. I raised an eyebrow, motioning for him to ask it.

“What is the most you’ve ever done with a man? I don’t mind, I’d just like to know what I should be more… gentle with,” he said softly, giving my hand a squeeze.

“With a man?” I teased, watching a bit of shock settle into his face.

“Have you been with other women?”

“Not sexually, I’ve never been with anyone sexually. But I’ve kissed them once or twice, and perhaps I can see why men like it so much,” I admitted, gauging his reaction. I wondered if he might get upset. For a moment, he almost looked jealous.

“You’ve truly kissed other women?” He asked again. I nodded.

“I’ve told you before, Tywin, there’s nothing wrong with it. In the grand scheme of things, who cares? We live such short lives compared to all of history, why does it matter what we decide to do? The gods made our bodies beautiful for a reason, they gave us pleasure for a reason. If the gods cared so much, they wouldn’t have made us this way,” I said, cupping his face.

“You know, I’m surprised nobody has given you the title of bladed tongue yet. By all accounts you must be the most persuasive woman in all seven kingdoms,” he muttered, putting his hand on top of mine and kissing my palm.

“Thank you. And if it makes you feel better, Tywin, I prefer kissing you to anyone else. You’re the first person I’ve ever truly longed to kiss. Among other things,” I said, muttering the end to myself. If he noticed, it wasn’t obvious.

“Then kiss me again,” he said softly, gazing at my lips. I merely smiled and reached for his collar, pulling him toward me and doing as he’d suggested. He was so warm, and the feeling of butterflies in my stomach was still there. It was made even worse when his hands met my hips, his fingers gripping there and pulling me closer to him.

He broke away suddenly and inhaled, looking away.

“You blow on the fire inside of me, (Y/N). You make me need you,” he whispered, bringing his eyes back and gazing down at me. There were a lot of things I could’ve said, but I decided on this:

“Good. I want you to need me.”

As I said it, it was almost as if I saw lust sparking in his eyes, and it made me smile. I placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, and then began to walk out. When I reached the door, I turned and found him still standing there, looking at me in awe.

“I’ll see you soon, Tywin.”

“Of course, my dear.”

I smiled again and left the room, unable to keep myself from laughing when I’d shut the door behind me. I was positively giddy and over the moon with what had just happened. In fact, so much so, that I wouldn’t even remember why I’d gone to see him until the next time I spoke with my grandmother.

I did not want Walder Frey’s son to die, but in some cruel way, the thought of Tywin killing a man just so he could have me to himself was attractive, and dare I say even erotic.

I wanted to feel worse about the whole thing, but I simply couldn’t. I was Tywin’s now, just as he was mine. From that moment on, the two of us wouldn’t let a single thing stand between us. We loved each other, let the fearsome consequences come.

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