#disarmed rose au

[bit-dodgy-innit]

Something In You Lit Up Heaven In Me

READ PART ONE

Pairing: Apollo (who happens to look exactly like Orestes in Agora) x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit, Minors DNI!

Word Count: 3.5k

TW/CW: Oral (m and f receiving), gods don't have refractory periods because I said so, petnames, a bit of innonence!kink and some praise!kink for that matter, P in V, a smidge of overstimulation, creampie, humiliation (but it's not our reader).

A/N: OH MY GAAAAASH THANK YOU ALL FOR THE OUTPOURING OF SUPPORT ON THIS SILLY LIL FANTASY OF MINE! I know have a couple more ideas/installments for this little AU! And hope you all enjoy!!!

Quick vocab word that'll be helpful: Archiereus = high/head priest

The rest of the day following your covert meeting with Apollo passed in a blur. Your mother claimed that you no longer needed to bother with your daily chores, but you insisted on doing them anyway. It wasn’t fair to Caris and besides, the routine was anchoring. It was one small shred of normalcy that you’d been able to maintain since Apollo upended your world. Even so, your mind was elsewhere as you washed the linens and swept the house, drifting through the evening mechanically. 

Falling asleep was impossible. Your gaze was glued to the moon as it rose steadily in the sky, Selene’s radiance never wavering as she drove her chariot across its inky canvas. 

At first, you dismissed them as a mere cluster of fireflies…until they made an uncannily neat and tidy line leading away from your window. You giggled, quietly so as not to wake Caris, and tiptoed out of your modest home. The insects led you through your village, past the temple, into the forest once more. 

Apollo waited for you in another small, tucked away clearing. Despite it being the dead of night, the god’s gleeful grin illuminated the little corner of the forest. As enchanting as the fireflies were, they were no longer necessary when the god of light was present. Your feet carried you on your own accord and launched you into Apollo’s arms. 

Now that it was only you and your lover, hidden away from prying eyes and scheming minds, you completely surrendered your desire. Apollo made you feel liberated, wild, when you made love. 

“Want you to take me in your mouth,” he exhaled as you rolled around on the lush, soft grass, tangled within each other. Even though it wasn’t your first time seeing his member, you were unable to stifle your gasp when he shed his chiton. 

“Yes,” you replied at once. Then, “but I’ve never–”

“Shhh–I’ll teach you,” he assured you, sprawling back on the ground. 

You crawled closer to him. He disarmed you with his trademark grin, and the crinkling at the corners of his eyes instantly put you at ease. Apollo may have been an Olympian, but he was still a man. He took pleasure in the same way you mere mortals did. 

Your gaze met his expectantly, eager for his instruction. 

“We’ll start simply. How about you give the tip a kiss?” 

You did as he said. His reaction was immediate, a pleased groan escaped his lips. 

“Just like that, sunshine,” he spurred you on, “now see if you can take more in your mouth.” 

A memory surfaced in your mind – Caris, sharing what she did to please a man in this matter. You recalled her advice to wrap your lips around his teeth as you sank down, and to use your hand to stroke any part of him you couldn’t fit into your mouth. It turned out, you were initially too keen, sputtering and having to pull off of Apollo after your gag reflex was triggered. 

He cupped your face with one strong, sure hand, his thumb caressing your cheekbone, “Oh darling, there’s no need to rush.”

Like before, there wasn’t a trace of disappointment or derision on the god’s face. He traced his finger down your jaw, slipping in between your lips. You sucked on the digit instinctively, looking up at him with what you hoped were doe eyes, and Apollo moaned. “Mmm, I knew you'd turn out to be a little minx.”

You pulled off of the god’s finger to try again. It occurred to you that it would be difficult, if not unpleasant, to stroke what you couldn’t fit in your mouth dry, so instead of trying to swallow down Apollo’s flushed cock immediately, you licked the circumference of his girth to wet him. The deity seemed to very much enjoy that, the action eliciting another deep groan. 

“Oh Tiii-Titans, you’re like a little naughty kitten for me,” he cooed. “Don’t stop.” 

Once he was properly slicked, you eased back down again. This time you opened your jaw wider, and though you only could take about half of him in, you wasted no time covering the remainder with your hand. It took a moment to teach them to work in tandem, yet you strove to sync the two movements. Your jaw began to ache slightly, the god’s mortal form was certainly not lacking, but you powered through. You wanted to be good for him, being good made you feel good, because you knew afterwards, Apollo would make you feel incredible.

Your lover never ceased his encouragement, his hand resting atop your head to guide you ever so slightly. A light tug on your hair made you pause, allowing him to ask, “Kitten, might I lead the way from here?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Apollo’s inquisitive, umber eyes narrowed at you, “Don’t refer to me so.” One look at your petrified face and he instantly amended, “There’s no need. I want you to use my name.” 

Your face split into a wide, pleased grin. “Alright, my–Apollo.”

“My Apollo, I like that,” he grinned, then stood. “C’mere kitten.” 

You rose onto your knees to level yourself with Apollo’s unflagging erection. He fed his cock back between your lips and instructed “You needn’t do a thing. Just pretend as if you’re yawning, it’ll help you take more.”

You wanted to nod in assent, but thought better of it given your full mouth. His fingers threaded into your hair, gently but firmly, holding you in place before he began to move his hips. Implementing his suggestion, you were shocked to discover how much more of his thick shaft penetrated your mouth. Apollo gave a few introductory thrusts, then began pistoning into you steadily. 

Your first instinct was to shut your eyes, but you coaxed them back open to observe your lover’s face. His jaw was tipped up, his brows knit together, his lips parted. To see a god this vulnerable was a privilege even the highest priests and most devoted acolytes would never receive in their lifetimes, a privilege whose magnitude that was not lost on you. 

On your knees for Apollo, you felt…safe. And not merely because that was the “natural” thing to do - to kneel for one’s god. Strangely, it wasn’t about that. The deity made you feel cared for, that you could set your burdens, however petty and innocuous they may be, down. He would shoulder them for a while, so that you could discover parts of yourself that you didn’t know existed.

Apollo pulled you closer to him, your nose now pressed against the taut skin of his belly as he used your mouth. It made breathing a bit harder, but the god’s rhythm began to falter soon after. 

“Ohhhh sunshine I’m gonna—try to swallow it down if you can.”

You hummed your assent around Apollo’s cock, inadvertently sending him over the edge. He shoved his shaft nearly down your throat as his release dropped down it, all but singing your praise the entire time. 

“Good girl kitten,” he painted the back of your esophagus with his seed, “taking it so well for me. You were so good for me.” 

At last he extracted his spent member from your overstretched mouth. The entirety of your chin was covered in drool from your coupling, and you barely had a moment to wipe it away before Apollo’s lips were on yours. He plundered your mouth with his tongue as if he was to lick the combined taste of his cum and your spit from it. The thought sent a hot thrill down your spine. 

“You did so well for me, darling.” He murmured once more after you’d broken apart. Apollo made quick work of your chiton, “Now what does my very good girl want?” 

“I…” your lover had begun to trail his lips down the soft skin of your neck. It made it impossible to think, let alone speak. “I want you…inside.”

“Of course,” he agreed from where he was now dotting kisses across your collarbone. 

Apollo continued his descent down your bare skin, kissing the tops of your breasts before pulling each nipple into his hot, sure mouth for a hearty suck. It felt so good that you changed your mind on how you wanted Apollo to ravish you, yet the sight of him sinking between your legs was too enticing to resist. He used the tip of his nose to part the seam of your sex before changing course and licking a long stripe between your folds. 

“Mmmm, just as sweet as I recall,” he husked. Your reply came in a strangled mewl. 

He chuckled darkly. "I know darling, but I must ready you.” 

No sooner had the words left his mouth did Apollo slide his index finger through your wetness and into your heat. Relief flooded you – no longer were you clenching around nothing. Apollo resumed kissing your neck as he tucked a second digit in along with the first. You met his movements eagerly, vaguely aware of how swiftly you’d shed the trope of the blushing virgin. Before, the god’s ministrations had felt like too much, now they were not enough. You needed the god’s hardness inside of you now. 

Despite being reduced to pitiful whines and whimpers, Apollo understood you. 

“You want your god’s big cock, don’t you?” 

You practically sobbed in agreement. But although the deity was a generous lover, he had a wicked streak. One that Apollo decided to unleash when he demanded right as he finally applied pressure to your bed, “Words, kitten.” 

“Yuh-YES!” you cried. It felt heavenly, but it wasn’t enough to bring you to climax. You legitimately feared you may go mad from the anticipation. 

“Good girl,” He parted your legs wider and locked them around his ample hips. He paused briefly to marvel, “what an offering you make for me.” 

Apollo proceeded to slap the head of his arousal on your clit, then at last he entered you in one smooth of his hips. The feeling of becoming one wrung another cry from you, while a deep, satisfied rumble sounded from Apollo’s chest. 

There wasn’t much talking after that. It was unnecessary. The god’s gaze locked onto your as he plowed you, first holding firmling onto your sides to steady you, then they crawled back up to breasts to pluck at your nipples. You were definitely going to go mad between the acute, concentrated ecstasy he was drawing from your pebbled peaks along with the astounding stretch and burn of his cock plowing into your channel. All the while, the swirling brown of Apollo’s eyes bore into yours, gauging your pleasure - how he could heighten it, how he could surprise you, how you would bit down on bottom lip whenever he changed angle slightly. 

The last observation spurred an idea from the god. He bent over you further, catching your wrists in his hands and pinning you to the ground beneath you. The shift allowed him to hammer a special, previously unknown spot within you, and for your vision to go a burning, blinding white. 

“AH! Ohhhh…Apo-Apollo,” you keened.

“That’s it, c’mon sunshine,” he urged you, now slamming his pelvis into yours, “Say my name. Scream it so that my kin can hear it on Olympius, and I’ll let you come.” 

“Apollo!” You were not one to disobey your god, “Oh stars above, Apollo! Holy Her–APOLLO!! ”  

Your orgasm exploded seemingly from the spot your lover’s cock was not battering outwards. You convulsed as the pleasure rushed from your core throughout your spasming frame to the very tips of fingers and toes. There was no way to ride it, let alone fight it, the ecstasy Apollo elicited from you demanded nothing less than complete surrender. 

At last, the euphoria in your body began to subside. You desperately gasped down more oxygen, yet, Apollo’s hard, thick member was still thrusting into you relentlessly. Next thing you knew, the deity had collected you into his arms and lifted you to sit on his lap. 

You winced at the deeper penetration and your growing sensitivity, but he whispered into your ear, “I know kitten, but I need a little more and Titans, you feel so damn amazing.” 

You pressed a kiss into his temple, now damp with sweat, and like before, surrendered your body to your god. He moved your hips for you, essentially fucking yourself on his cock, meeting each and every downstroke with an untiring vigor only an Olympian could possess. 

Suddenly, his hold around your torso tightened, and you felt his manhood pulse within you. A deep growl reverberated from his as his seed flooded your channel. Your head was spinning, so much so that you barely realized you two fell back on the grass again. 

Apollo rolled so you were beneath him once more and eased himself out of you. 

“Now, that is a sight,” he moaned as he watched his release drip out of your entrance. 

“Is it?” you panted. 

“Mmm indeed,” he promised, gingerly probing your puffy pussy to collect his spend. This time, he brought it to his own mouth, “Hellfire, we make quite the concoction.” 

“I…” you eyes were fluttering closed, “I’m glad you’re pleased.” 

The god pulled you close once more. “I am beyond delighted. You were magnificent, my little kitten.”

***

You didn’t remember returning home, but your mother’s voice barking your name to wake was unmistakable. It wasn’t until she jarred you into consciousness that you realized you were back in your own bed, and thankfully, clothed. 

“You were due at the temple a quarter of an hour ago!” 

Grogginess prevented you from sniping back at her that your tardiness wouldn’t anger the god, since Apollo was the very reason for it. Instead, you held your tongue, and lethargically, but as quickly as you could, you rinsed your face and dressed. Your mother shooed you off to the temple with a small cloth holding berries and cheese in tow. 

You trudged up the hill to the temple, you’d never liked going there to begin with, but now that your presence was compulsory, it maddened you. The more time you spent with Apollo, the more you despised the structure meant to venerate him and the men who inhabited it claiming to act in his name. The god himself and his priests seemed to be two disparate parties. 

Distressed shouts and —was that bleating?— jolted you from your thoughts. You ran the rest of the way to the temple’s entrance. Something was wrong. 

Breathlessly, you arrived at the temple’s sanctum to find the priests and acolytes in a frantic scrum and…a goat. 

You caught the eye of one of the younger priests. “Don’t we usually sacrifice ravens to Apollo?” 

The priest, Karolos, you believed his name was, gulped. “Th-that…that is the Archiereus.”

Now it was your turn to gulp. Your eyes widened, then darted up to the large statue of Apollo that looked over the chaos. 

“I need privacy,” you told Karolos lowly, “somewhere I can be alone.”

His brows furrowed, only for realization to dawn on his features a moment later. “Are you going to…?”

“I’m going to try.”

“Come with me.”

As he led you through the madness, you pressed further. “What exactly happened?”

“We all woke up from a terrible, seemingly shared, nightmare. The god appeared to us and we could see ourselves being roasted alive as the temple burned,” the priest began, “and the goat—I mean, the Archiereus, was in his chambers…eating his own bed linens when we rose this morn.”

“Gods,” you groaned. 

“We’re very sorry.” 

Your gaze shot to the ground at the mention of your violating confirmation as Apollo’s latest lover. 

“Truly,” he averred, “I knew it was wrong but they didn’t listen—“

“Stop,” you had no interest in reliving that terrifying day. “But thank you. Truly.”

Karolos sent you a small grin and then opened the door to what seemed to be the head priest’s chambers, half-eaten bed linens and all. The room was imposing, large, and most importantly, tucked into a corner toward the back of the temple complex. 

The bedchamber seemed even more intimidating when you were left alone within it. You hadn’t the faintest idea of how to summon Apollo, or if you even could. Therefore, you defaulted to the simplest of methods. You looked up, yet closed your eyes, and called out this name. 

“Sunshine.”

His voice was close. Very close, since not a second later you were pulled back into the deity’s arms. You startled, a very undignified and unappealing yelp escaping you. 

You pivoted in Apollo’s embrace to face him. “You enjoy frightening me, don’t you?”

“I enjoy arousing you in any and all forms,” he countered wryly. 

“You must change him back.”

Apollo’s face fell infinitesimally before resuming its usual brightness. “Of course. As soon as you admit how comical it is.”

You huffed. “Apollo.” 

He shrugged as if the power wasn’t solely and completely in his hands. 

“What’s this about a shared nightmare?” 

“I promised you not to harm them,” the god responded, frustration creeping into his tone, “but these provincial dolts needed to be taught a lesson. They cannot flout me, and by extension you, in such a brazen manner.” 

Arguing was pointless, you knew this. Because Apollo was right. As much as you felt as the reluctant center of the issue here, it actually came down to the priests and their respect, and therefore fear, for their patron god. 

“While the goat is very comical, I have to say, I think a slug would’ve been more fitting,” you offered with a small smile. 

Apollo laughed, his expression beaming once again, and captured your lips. 

When you breathlessly broke apart, you inquired, “Does this mean I no longer need to come here everyday?”

“Darling, you don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to.”

“I suppose so, but if you wanted me to, I would.” 

“Always so willing to please,” Apollo groaned in satisfaction, “you have no idea what you do to me.” 

Before you could counter that you didn’t he nudged his groin into your hip to give you one. You nearly jumped at the feel of his arousal pressing through two flimsy layers of your clothing. 

The god continued, “However, I believe there are better uses for your time too.” 

“Thank you, my–my Apollo.” 

“Oh you truly want me to take you on that bumpkin Archiereus’s bed, don’t you?” 

The god began backing you toward the bed in question, though you managed to slip out of his grasp just in time. 

“Apollo!” 

Another peal of laughter from the god. “My desire for you has no bounds.” 

“As does mine,” you offered, “I swear it. However, I have to go back and live amongst these people, and I’d prefer to be able to look some of my neighbors in the eye.” 

The god studied you, as if the fact you went back and lived among other people had only just occurred to him when you spoke it. However, maddeningly all he said was, “I see.” 

You fidgeted under the intensity of his gaze. “I very much enjoyed our time together last night though. I cannot remember if I told you.”

He grinned. You would never tire of it. “Good, then I shall see you tonight?” 

“Yes. Please.” your answer came without hesitation. 

“I’ll send you a route again,” he vowed, stealing one last impassioned kiss from your lips.  

“I shall count the moments,” you whispered. 

“Go,” he urged you softly. “I’ve taken care of the ​​Archiereus.” 

A commotion sounded from what you thought was the temple’s sanctum. It startled you, and when you turned back to your lover, he’d disappeared. 

Karolos was not waiting at the door when you emerged from the high priest’s chambers, much to your relief. So you hurried to where the shouts were emanating from. 

The Archiereus had been changed back alright. He lay in the sanctum stark naked and humiliated, barking for a cloth to cover his modesty when you arrived on the scene. Yet he cowed immediately at the sight of you and in a truly baffling role reversal, kneeled at your feet. 

“Please, we never meant to harm you, nor anger the mighty Apollo,” he all but blubbered. It was arresting, and honestly, you thought you might have preferred his haughty countenance more. “Your claim was a bold one, we simply sought to substantiate it, however if I could take it back, I would. I beseech you for forgiveness.” 

You didn’t wish to forgive him, however you didn’t wish to condemn the groveling cleric either. The happy medium it seemed was to respond, “The god is appeased. I will no longer be present for your daily rituals.”

With that, you turned and left the oppressive structure, unsure whether to stifle or welcome the exhilarating sense of authority following through you. It was truly the first time in your life you’d ever felt powerful. 

A/N: Ehhh...we like? Seriously, y'all give me the motivation pound out more of this! I already have an idea of another god I want to bring into the mix 😜

Taglist:

@whatthefishh , @thhriller ,  @simpforbritgents , @oof-its-roobi @pakhiya @fandxmslxt69  @twwcs, @damnzelsoul  @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @dameronscopilot @sharin4readers @ireallymadeamoonknightblog

#oscar isaac #oscar isaac smut #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac fanfic #oscar isaac fanfiction #oscar isaac x you #oscar isaac x y/n #apollo #oscar isaac greek god au #oscar isaac thirst hours

[ventisettestars]

DannyMay Day 6+7: Eclipse And Weapon [ao3]

This is a continuation of Day1: Fantasy AU. [link] Next part: [link]

Summary: Sam and Tucker meet the Fae Lord Phantom with a bonus flashback to how he earned the title.

Please note things get violent near the end after Danny messes with the pendant.

WC: 2,369

“Lord Phantom” Fright Knight knelt to face his Lord. “I have secured the humans as you’ve requested. Might I inquire as to why you personally collected them?” 

Phantom rubbed between his eyes as Cujo whined for his attention next to the throne. “They are my attendants from while I’m-. Companions of mine since early childhood.” 

“I see.” 

“So.” Phantom’s gaze fell on his knight, the ring of light in the black projecting his source of power. “Do I need for you to attend to them before I make my way, or will their accommodations be adequate to please me?” 

Fright Knight stiffened. “My Lord. May I be dismissed to address and correct my misunderstandings of your relations to the humans.” 

So they got the standard 'throw the humans in a room’ treatment. “I’ll handle it myself. I’m sure they are frightened enough without you returning to move them to a new location.” He rose from his throne, waving Cujo to join with the other hounds. “Lead me to them.” 

So Fright Knight did. 

Sure enough they were in one of the more nefarious rooms in his domain. The room was pretty basic by fae standards. Lots of wooded and delicately carved furniture, cozy temperature regulated between an opened window and a fireplace that always burned with just the right amount of warmth to fend off the cold of his corner of the realm. 

What made this room so dangerous to humans was the moss that carpeted the floor. It released spores to make creatures other than fae more docile after long exposure. 

Entering the room, Tucker was the only one in view. Phantom had barely a moment to process that, before Sam burst out from the other side of the door, attacking with her dagger. 

Phantom blocked it with his armor, staring at her with his dark eyes. “Stand Down.” The slim green ring was the only indicator of where he looked and it seemed to glow brighter with his command. 

Sam, losing the only advantage she saw at the moment, relaxed her grip and let the dagger fall to the floor. Phantom smirked, knowing it wasn’t the only dagger she kept on her person. 

He bent to pick up the dagger and handed it back to her. “Hang onto this. I’ve no need to disarm you. I invited you here as guests. Have you had anything to eat or drink?”

They both shook their heads, probably feeling a bit of both hunger and thirst now that he mentioned it. That was another side effect of the moss. 

“Good. Don’t do either.” Phantom turned in the threshold. “Now then. Follow me and don’t wander.”

He walked off, and was relieved when the two followed. He wondered if maybe Tucker noticed the properties of the moss, cause they both hurried quite a bit. 

Fright Knight followed behind the two humans as extra protection, irritated that his Lord let the humans see his back. 

Once at Phantom’s personal chambers, he turned. “Thank you for the escort. Now leave us.” 

Fright Knight bowed and took his post at the end of the hall. 

“This way.” Phantom opened the door to the first room, the area was filled with lush flora and I couldn’t be considered a room as the walls vanished with only three free standing doors. The sky overhead filled with stars and a black moon, surrounded by a ring that seemed to match Phantom’s eyes. 

“An eternal eclipse. A sign of the Lord of Night.” Sam mumbled, the sky and his eyes being the only proof she needed. “Is that why you tend to hunt only on the darkest nights?”

“Yep. I didn’t realize you’d actually read my parent’s scrolls.” Phantom looked up and winced as he realized his slip. He always enjoyed this inbetween space of his, but his two natures also tended to meld here. 

“Your par-?!” Tucker gasped as he watched a resigned Phantom shift into Danny. Only, one of his eyes remained Fae looking.

“Hey, surprise?” Danny had the gull to look sheepish with a tiny wave. 

They were all silent. Danny waited on his friends before he made the next move. 

His nerves started to get the better of him as the wait till they said or reacted stretched on. He looked up to the eclipse in his sky as just something to hold his attention, when Sam finally said something. 

“So. Let me get this straight. You, the skeptic prince of Amity, are not only Fae, but a freaking Fae Lord. The fucking Lord of Night, Leader of the Winter Wild Hunt, AND the Summer King Pariah’s Bane?” 

Danny nodded. Only to turn to Tucker as he started laughing. 

“How the heck have you found the time to pull all of that off??” 

“Oh, Time in the Realms is slippery…I’m a bit older than I look…Or, I’ve got like centuries of life experience in 16 years time…?” 

“How does that even?” Tucker looked like he was trying to do the math, when Danny shrugged. 

“Don’t think about it too hard. I stopped trying to figure it out ages ago. I could be in ruling for weeks, then once I return to my room, the night wouldn’t even have passed. Don’t get my started on the pure headache of figuring out seasons and times of power.” Danny leaned as though he were going to sit, but there was no chair behind him. 

Sam was about to call out when suddenly there was a chair. She raised a brow at him. 

“What? The courts are always playing around with their politics and times of power. It might look like it’s on a 3 month calendar, but here those three months could last only a week, or years.” 

“That's absolutely fascinating, but the chair, how did it?”

“I’m the Lord of this Realm.”

“Danny, that makes no sense.” 

Tilting his head a bit, he grinned. “Good.” Letting his fae nature slip to the forefront again, he spread his wings that sparkled in starlight, “If it made sense, then I’d be a shit Lord.” 

Phantom preened and let his wings fluff a bit before they resettled into looking like his cloak. He reveled in their dumb founded stares. The lore books always hyped up ‘the fae’s gossamer wings’, so they probably assumed his raven wings were just a feathered cloak. 

“So, you both have two options. First being, go through that door.” Phantom pointed a finger at the door that looked like it belonged to Amity. “It’ll return you home sometime in the night. It’s never consistent so can’t say when. Or-” Danny shifted to Phantom. “I could give you a tour of my realm.” 

They both looked a bit concerned. But, this was Danny. Right? 

“I’m down for staying. How about you Tuck?”

“I don’t want to miss out on all the fun. So the time thing, is it that you are time traveling or-”

“Probably time dilation? Something in Infinite Realms keeps everything out of sync. I’m still expecting one of these days I’ll come here, and lose months in the Human Realm. I’ve been blessed so far.” 

“So, when’d this all-?” Tucker motioned to all of Phantom. 

“Human time, about a year ago. This is my second winter in power. You remember that charm my parents got from Duke Masters? The pretty black one with the ring.” Phantom made sure to look both of them in the eyes, drawing attention to it with a tap. Just to make sure they could see his eyes matched the charm. 

Sam gasped. “But, it was useless, did-”

“It contained the previous Lord of Night. I broke it and unsealed the binding spell. Defeated him in single combat, then tada-” He grinned, exposing his fangs. “The Realm couldn’t have a Human Lord, so it fixed that problem my first night here. I’m pretty sure that my attendant at the time helped the progress. Come on. Let me start with introducing you to Cujo!” Phantom was done discussing his rise to power.  

They both knew Danny well enough to know that it wasn’t that simple.

-----one and half years ago

The pendant was pretty, and that was about the only thing it was good for. Duke Masters had sent it in place of taxes this month. Claiming it to be a ‘fae trinket’, his parents eagerly accepted it in place of taxes. Which really ticked Danny off. Duke Masters had more than enough coin to spare. Had it been a villager that painted a rock, he would’ve been less ticked off about it. 

But it was the richest of their people that pulled this bullshit. Danny was running his hand over it, attempting to see how the man had made the rock to produce the glow. It didn’t seem to be the work of wizardry. Least from what the court wizard observed. 

The fae might have been a thing in the past, but now, people going missing in the woods were just unfortunate victims to nature. Not whisked away to some magical realm. It was all just fairy tales. 

His nail caught in the glowing circle on the charm. There was a divot there. He picked at the spot with his nail at first, but then tried at it with a dagger-like letter opener. Finally, a small enough nick was formed, but rather than just looking scratched, shadows burst and the air grew thin. A figure emerged, everything about them deathly white from their features to clothes, to large feathered wings.

“Foolish Mortal. You’ve done me a service by freeing me, but as my sentence wasn’t fully served, you’ve committed a crime to the realm. For that, you must face your punishment. I shall even show you mercy and deliver your death quickly.” 

A sword materialized in the being’s - the fae’s hand. They went to strike, the bone white blade swinging down. 

Danny wasn’t going to just die just like that. So with the only weapon at his disposal, he blocked using the letter opener he’d been holding. 

The bone blade was deflected to Danny’s relief, but it has cut the tip from his own blade. In a panicked thought, at least the blade was sharper now. 

It did little to comfort him as the fae continued to strike. Danny focused more on dodging since he couldn’t afford his blade getting any smaller. Everything the bone blade connected with was cut as though it were butter. Least it wasn’t the poor letter opener’s fault. 

The blade nicked his arm and Danny had never felt such pain before. It was cold, but it burned. Distantly he remembered learning about sensory death to cells when they were damaged to the point of no longer being able to regenerate feeling. 

He couldn’t afford another hit, so Danny lunged with his little blade. He wasn’t sure where he was aiming, he just didn’t want to die. He didn’t-

The bone blade was through his chest, pain flared so bad he almost didn’t notice the blood pouring from the fae’s neck. Danny’s dagger had struck just right, that the fae lost their grip on the blade as they began to sink to the floor.

“How-?” Their voice was weak. “You’re but a mere child…”

“Looks-” Danny coughed. “Looks like you picked the wrong prince to try to punish.” 

The fae’s form began to turn to dust, their blade following along. 

With the blade gone, Danny’s wound started to bleed with more flow. Shit, he knew it was bad to remove a weapon like that. He tried to apply pressure, unable to call for help. Come to think of it, where were his guards? 

They should’ve-

The dust started to rise, though there was no wind. 

It seemed to whisper. “Youngling. Do you wish to die a mortal, or continue on…” 

Danny thought it’d be dumb to reply. He was probably just dilutional from blood loss. Of course he didn’t want to die. He wasn’t done yet.

Without replying, the hallucinated whisper responded. “Wise choice…” 

The swirling dust flew at him, and into the chest wound. The pain stopped. At least from the wound. 

Danny could feel the dust, spiraling through him. He couldn’t tell if his blood was boiling or freezing, he couldn’t even scream. Or maybe he was screaming? 

No one came rushing to his aid though. He collapsed and the last thing he was aware of, was chains, that seemed to emerge from where his once wound had been, began to wrap around his body. Moving almost like snakes to bind him. 

He vaguely was aware that they‘d be gone when he woke next. 

“Danny, there you are.” Danny peaked open an eye at the voice calling to him. Tucker was- 

“Dude, we’ve been looking all over for you. Sleeping at your desk is going to make your back suffer.” This time it was Sam. 

“Sorry, I-” Danny sat up. How did he get to his desk, and-? He looked to his letter opener, it wasn’t in two? And the Pendant. The glowing ring on it was gone. It was just a shiny black rock. 

“I guess I’ve been working too hard.” It was all a dream?

“Probably. You should head to an actual bed, or I’ll tell Jazz.”

Danny gestured in mock offense. “You wouldn’t dare bother the kind princess with something so petty.” 

“I would, and she’d take you off your duties for a week.” 

“Then there would be a back log…” Danny got up and grabbed the pendant. “In all seriousness, I might actually be working too hard. I didn’t even notice I’d fallen asleep.”

“Then get to bed sleepy head. Want an escort?”

“Nah, you both can head home. Thanks for waking me up. If Jazz had found me asleep there, it would’ve been bad.”

They both waved him off. 

Once in his room, Danny's reflection caught his eye. Right in the center of his chest there was a glowing scar. It was where the blade had gone through. It pulsed with each heartbeat. 

Danny had a feeling getting any sleep tonight was going to be impossible. 

-----

It took a week til he noticed the door appear that no one else could see. Then another few days till he gave into the temptations to enter it.

End notes:

The eclipse is Danny's eyes and the pendant so I couldn't figure out a good place to separate the two chapters cause Walker's Bone Blade was going to be for Weapon, so I just didn't x'DD

Hope you enjoy this cause I got more planned for the Fantasy AU (It'll probably get it's own fic after DannyMay with some edits.)

#Dannymay2023 #danny phantom #dp #Fantasy AU #my art #my fic #draws

[jisungsdaydreamer]

Anti-Romantic | TEASER | CHAPTER 3 OUT NOW!!

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME» · «SERIES MASTERLIST»

Pairing: Hyunjin x Fem!reader Genre: non idol au, fluff, smut, romcom, drama, opposites attract Warnings: swearing, explicit sexual content, dysfunctional relationships, taboo couples/relationship therapist and patient dynamic

P.S. ♡ If you like my work, please consider giving me feedback in the form of reblogs, comments, and asks! ♡

As the most beloved dating coach in the sunny state of California, Hyunjin has dealt with all kinds of nightmares— from real desperate housewives and their indifferent husbands to toxic shotgun marriages doomed to fail— and he’s fixed them all. Dubbed the “Love Doctor,” Hyunjin has a PhD in both sociology and broken hearts. Every single day for Hyunjin ends the same: yet another flashy career success and to celebrate, sliding on his rose-tinted glasses and sipping on pink champagne, his perpetual poison.

That was all before you, of course.

For your entire life, you’ve been unlucky in love. From your endless unrequited high school crushes to your situationship who turned out to be gay, love has just never been in the cards for you. It’s all changed you from a hopeless romantic into a pessimist who doesn’t believe in true love. You now make fun of every couple you see, religiously watch wedding fails on Youtube, and absolutely hate romantic comedies. 

But no amount of lackluster girls’ nights or hours thrown into your crappy job can fill the hole in your heart. You’re absolutely lonely. In one last attempt to give love a chance, you ditch your Tinder dates and decide to turn to L.A.’s famous “Love Doctor,” this hotshot relationship therapist all of your friends rave about. 

Barrelling into Dr. Hwang’s office like a cyclone, you bring along your signature stormy attitude and want a remedy to your emotional dry spell, even though you still believe in your heart that counseling won’t work for you. You don’t expect, however, your new intimacy expert to be hotter than hell, definitely not a middle-aged woman ready to lecture you about putting out.

No, Dr. Hwang is more like the Grandmaster of love, the amorous warlock of the West Coast, and with the way he silently strips you with his bedroom eyes the moment you walk in, perhaps even the sex scholar of the Valley. As he slowly disarms your defenses, you do your best not to let him know of your inappropriate fantasies about him. But even worse than your impossibly vivid wet dreams, you’re falling in love with your fucking therapist. Or Hyunjin, as he so charmingly commands you to call him. 

And you try to keep your feelings for him at bay, you really do. But Hyunjin just doesn’t give up, relentlessly tugging at your mind and heart and taking up every quantum of your life. Because after all, the Love Doctor loves a good challenge.

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME»

TAGLIST @army-stay-noel, @hwangjuhong, @chizumiyoshi

📢 ©jisungsdaydreamer 2023 | All rights reserved. I do not condone translations or transfers of my work onto other platforms such as Wattpad, AO3, etc. Tumblr is my only platform. Acts of plagiarism are strictly prohibited.

#kflixnet #straykidsland #k-labels #hyunjin x reader #stray kids #hyunjin fic #hwang hyunjin smut #skz #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #romcom #drama #dramedy #opposites attract #love doctor #romance #non idol au #therapist au #doctor au #hyunjin imagines #stray kids fic #skz fic #skz smut #stray kids hyunjin #skz hyunjin #comedy #jisungsdaydreamer

[smolvenger]

A Court of Mischief and Purpose, Chapter Ten

Loki x fem! Reader Series, A Court of Thorns and Roses/Mist and Fury AU Crossover with the various Tom Hiddleston characters.

Chapter Summary: You find the Spellbook halves and flee Vanaheim. But a twist makes it unreadable and the answer lies in Sakarr...

Series Summary: England. 1885. As you lay on what could be your deathbed, the god of mischief Loki appears before you with a deal. He will heal you ...if you spend a week of every month with him. When the time comes to fulfill your end of the bargain, you are introduced to a world full of more magic and danger than you could possibly imagine...

Word Count: 7K

Warnings: PTSD and jealousy, Stella is anxious, Reader gets the hornies but no actual smut (not yet, we're almost there though, hehehe) , violence, and blood. Loki hurting a bitch because someone insulted his bb. Mutual pining. Light cursing. Grammar and editing mistakes.

Series Masterlist

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69

Thomas was sent out to tell the others to wait until tomorrow. To take a day rather than crash, rob, and run. You were introduced to the room supposed to be your bedroom. It was a lovely guest room with light blue walls and a darker blue comforter on the bed. Stella would have adored it. Your plans were only to take time to yourself to think and settle your feet until dinner.

You weren’t expecting Loki on your bed, lounging casually. His feet were over the edge and his elbow was against the mattress.

“Well then…I see you’ve been quite a success!” he said.

Part of your instinct was to ask him what he was doing in your room. Then again…you first truly met him in his intended form in your room. It then struck you- here you could both discuss plans without fear of any overlookers.

You folded your arms.

“And your own goal of flirting with the lady-,”

“She has a name, it’s Sylvie,” he corrected.

Fire churned inside you, a petty frustration.

“She must be awaiting you in your bed right now,” you replied.

It was a little bit of emotion, the emotional fire that got out of you, slipped past your own restraint. You waited for the smirk to appear on his face. It did not. He shook his head.

“In truth- no. Sylvie only glares at me when I flirt with her. Calls me a clown. I even showed her the fireworks. She looked like she would rather watch the paint dry. I only did a little- I praised her skill with daggers and she smirked.”

He went from lounging to standing in one fluid movement.

“She will be far harder to disarm, to distract.”

“Hmmm…so what should we do?” you asked.

There was a little itch on your chin. You lifted your hand to scratch it, glancing at the star marks on your hand. So little now- like scars. You were so used to them that you barely thought of them. Loki then gave a smile as he eyed them too.

“We did not train you for hours in vain. You have the very useful gift of your sensing. You must go about and try to sense where the book is…but my advice…”

He leaned closer to you, his voice getting quieter.

“Don’t sneak about the grounds. They will ask questions. Be discreet about it,” he advised.

You met him in his eyes and gave him a nod.

“What of your own powers? Loki…you can create duplicates, correct?” you asked.

“Why, Yes. You’ve seen it yourself many times,” he confirmed.

You felt yourself grin, throwing ideas into the plan.

“Can you make a duplicate of yourself to distract them? Or of me? Or of Thomas even!” you encouraged.

He tilted his head, pondering it. The slower growth of his smile showed that he approved.

“My dear, I can do that. I can also create illusions.”

He lifted a hand up, gesticulating as he went on.

If not a duplicate, then an illusion that you are there. Batting your eyelashes and saying ‘Yes Mr. President’ and swooning before him.”

You returned your arms to folding, feeling your eyebrows lift. But you continued.

“So step one, I will use my senses to find out where it is hidden. Step two, create the duplicates of us and Thomas. Especially to keep The President and Sylvie distracted…we will search for it. Make sure Thomas knows- I don’t want him left out!” you said.

Loki agreed, as he reached for the door you turned around.

“Who was the Weaver? Whose form?” you asked.

He returned your look, away from his exit.

“What makes you ask?” he questioned.

“He was shaking when he saw her. And I did not recognize her. Like he was in a trance. Had he not somehow got himself to take the sword and stab the Weaver, Loki, I would have been dead,” you pressed.

Loki walked closer to you, his voice still quiet.

Loki’s eyes hardened only a little. A sad shadow fell over his face.

“He told me you might ask questions. As I said, his past was…difficult, shall we say. But be patient with him, Y/N. He will tell you and the others everything, in time, when he’s ready…” he said before he left your room.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was to be another lovely dinner in the Knott palace in Vanaheim. Even amongst the wide tables and variants eating chicken legs with their hands as grease smeared all over their faces, you took note to cut your food into small bits and placed your napkin on your lap. The picture of polite gratitude that possessed no plans of robbery.

Even as you sat, placed next to Thomas and Loki, across from The President, your senses were reaching out, searching.

Spellbook half…Spellbook half…where are you?

Blast it, it could tell you the histories of the trees back home from miles away. Why was Vanaheim harder? Because of the magic infused everywhere perhaps?

You sipped your merlot. Thomas lifted up his glass.

“Why- all of you have been such lovely, welcoming friends. I say we must offer a toast to the Lokis. All of them,” he said.

“To the Lokis!” they repeated, eagerly taking a drink. Even the little boy gulped down the tan juice in his glass goblet.

Eyes turned over to Thomas. Smiling up at him, they leaned closer. Curious of the baronet more than they were of you or Loki. He smiled and patiently answered their questions.

“Yes- I have been trained to dance since I was a young boy! Sent to boarding school- surrounded by other trouble-causing little boys! But I passed and survived!” Thomas recalled around the group.

President Loki leaned back in his chair, one arm dangling over the upper rim. His golden horns seemed a little more polished for the evening. He did give you looks and you only looked down at your napkin with a coy grin.

“What else did you study?” Classic Loki asked the Baronet.

A servant went up and refilled everyone’s drinks from a large pitcher. You mouthed her a thank you.

“Mathematics, the sciences, the great writers of the past, and art as well…” Thomas explained.

Loki lifted up his glass to have a drink. You indeed had a look around- old paintings and busts on high niches surrounded the dining hall. You turned your head to admire them.

“My, this place does have beautiful art in it!” you commented.

President Loki lifted a glass to you.

“And you, Miss, are just one of the many masterpieces there,” President Loki oozed. You met his own look as he gave you a small toast and had a sip, eyes never leaving yours.

“Oh, thank you, Mr. President,” you replied sweetly, another coy glance down at your napkin, to glance back up at him.

Loki’s grip was so tight on his wine glass that he could have broken it in his fist. An iciness in his eyes. Yet he smiled- albeit tightly.

It seemed as if the dinner ended soon. The sky was still in the evening with an orange sky outside. Thomas turned towards it. He gave you a look and then to the variants.

“May I ask, all of you lovely gentlemen and lady- do you know of these pieces? I think we would all like a little tour!” he suggested.

Loki broke out of his trance to lower his jaw at him. You inhaled sharp, cold air through your nose in a slight gasp.

“Please include me! I must know all about the collection here!” you added on.

“Yes- indeed,” Loki agreed.

The President smiled “Oh, please! Allow me…I think I am more than capable of serving as a tour guide,” he offered.

As the servants arrived to clean up the plates, he went over to you and offered his arm. You draped your arm around the President. Thomas wiped his mouth with the napkin. He stood up next to you. Loki was merely behind. The President led all of you out of the dining room into the hallways filled with more paintings. Here there were tributes of all sorts of different mythologies on oil and canvas. He pointed out one of a woman and man embracing in a forest.

“This one is of Venus and Adonis…which I assure you, it has much resemblance to me,” President Loki boasted.

It did not. You smiled at him anyway. Your senses stretched out through the room like the lights from the chandeliers above-searching, searching. He discussed bits of each one.

Then he led you down back to the ballroom, showing the portraits. You then realized it was made of the various Loki residents who lived here.

“Mine is in progress as of now. I must make sure it is large and grand, so the people know who their votes go for. Here- this one is of Boastful Loki. He wanted it done by the best painter in Vanaheim-well, second to mine of course,” President Loki explained.

As you admired the details of the fur of the painting of Boastful Loki, you kept a polite smile and reached out your senses further.

There was something tingling- yes…there was something close...like a little bell in the back of your head.

There was something ringing in the garden. The garden outside the ballroom. It was actually far larger and went to the back outside the palace. Flowers, trees, and greenery as befitting a palace garden.

But something was out there- a labyrinth. A maze of green leaves and hedges.

There was a place beneath the bushes. A dead end. So it seemed normal. So none would suspect.

Trembling leaves. A secret door. The key beneath the flurry of green roses.

And behind the door-yes in that door…on a pillar…there was a library. And on one pillar…a book. Half of one.

There. There was the answer.

As your senses retreated back to you, you smiled up at The President lovingly. The joy of locating the spellbook added genuine exuberance as you spoke to him.

“I cannot decide which piece is my favorite! Though you are a wonderful guide!” you threw in. Thomas bit back the urge to smile further in amusement, though his eyes darted between you two.

“When I decide to campaign all nine realms and when I win….I am considering having a First Lady...” The President added.

Thomas raised his eyebrows and smiled like he was holding back a chuckle. Loki seemed so tense he would break into pieces and his face looked like in a second he was going to whip out a dagger and kill his variant.

You let out another laugh as you again glanced to the ground demurely, then looked back at him under your eyelashes.

“Oh- My. Mr. President, I am far too humbled…” you added.

President Loki only smiled at you.

“Only consideration…just in case…” he crooned.

You sent out a thought to Loki. His shields were far too down all while keeping your eye on the smug smile of the President.

“It’s in the labyrinth of the garden.”

When his thought returned to you, it seemed its same cool, even tone. Despite his tense state.

“You seem like you’re enjoying this,” he responded.

“Only because it’s working for me. Tomorrow- we go to the labyrinth. It’s hidden in a dead end. Alert Thomas. Remember- this is a mission, Loki.”

“Would you seriously consider being his First Lady?”

You swallowed a little, then flashed The President another smile as your thoughts went back to Loki.

“I’m just flirting with him like you asked me to do!”

“I know, but would you?” the God of Mischief repeated.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. I only just met him.”

Part of you wanted to laugh- he was becoming a sullen child. Perhaps jealous you were able to crack the President successfully. And that he wasn’t able to with Sylvie.

The next day- it was decided. After breakfast, you all would go straight to searching. All of you talked privately and agreed on a plan.

Loki would create a duplicate of himself to make others think he was just enjoying another endless day of rowdy partying and relaxing with the other guests. As well as an illusion of you and the Baronet sitting in chairs, watching and smiling among them. Only conversing in polite small talk when prompted.

Then all of you crawled out to the gardens. You both snuck out, the bright wind whipping about and the sun bright. The smell of fresh earth beneath you.

Blast it, you already noticed around the hedges- there was The President first. Loki then conjured an image of you, an illusion. Dressed in a pretty day dress of bright pink like what you were wearing, right down to the hair on the top of your head. You were sent out, batting a fan and giggling.

The President wiggled his eyebrows and reached to touch your hand. The illusion took a step back.

“If you want to, then catch me!” it’s voice- no, Your voice- dared him.

She picked up her skirts and fled into the labyrinth. The President clicked his tongue. He placed his hands in his pockets, at first in a slow walk, and then began to search through to find you- your own excited echoes of flirtatious laughter echoing through.

“Why- where are you hiding little mouse? Come here!” he was teasing back as he wandered further.

Sylvie walked about the maze. Her gaze was forward and determined. All of you hid in the corner, peeking out as Loki sent out a duplicate towards her.

“Why- you seem especially terrifying today! Which enemies are you planning to defeat?” he said with a smile that failed to be seductive.

She glared murder into it.

“Please- I know a duplicate when I see one. Stop this nonsense!” Sylvie cried.

All of you froze in time, a small surge of panic from you. She folded her arms again and walked up to where you were.

“What the hel are all of you doing loitering around like fools when-”

Suddenly there was a little whirring noise. Sylvie cursed and reached into her pocket. A strange device- seemed to be metal and a rectangle began to creak.

“It’s broken! Damnit! Loki, even your talking makes it-”

Sir Sharpe stepped forward.

“Apologies Miss, but- might I have a look at it? I could try to fix it.”

“Oh, this! Used to be a tempad back in the day- I don’t trust you know what it is. But- it’s now just used to communicate with the others.”

“I will be glad to help, I have experience with such things, allow me…”

Thomas took the device. Then briefly glanced at you two, and gave a smile.

You put a hand over your mouth to hide the grin and urge to laugh.

'Our Brilliant Baronet broke her device. Now he has to fix it and distract her! Now, I’ll create an illusion, YN darling- we must hurry!'

As soon as their heads were lowered to focus on the communicator, Thomas providing the perfect distraction, Loki’s magic wielded another sneaky duplicate and a replicate illusion of you folding your arms and smiling. The two of you hurried off before she could see.

Your senses reached out as you both scurried along, trying to catch your breaths. You took Loki’s hand and pulled him in that direction. Sure enough, there was a dead end. Complete with a few green roses blooming near the wall of leaves.

Loki bent down and located the Green Rose. He reached into those delicate petals with his white, long fingers. They greatly overpowered the little flower. But they were gentle. Touching the delicate flower with reverence. You felt yourself staring. A second too long.

His hands…they were…so beautiful…

From between the petals, he plucked the tiniest golden key. As you moved aside the leaves, there was a tall door with the tiniest keyhole. He plopped it into the door and unlocked it with a click.

“Ladies always first,” he offered, opening the door as you stepped inside.

The inside looked almost like a burrow. How you imagined the Rabbit hole of Alice in Wonderland when you read it as a child. Roots of plants and an earthy smell. The dirt beneath your feet, stains your skirts and shoes. Yet you walked forward.

It did look like a hidden library. High brown bookshelves and more books piled around. There was even an old green sitting chair with more books piled on them. You noticed there was some light coming from above. Turning up your chins, you saw a hole from above the leaves leaving a direct stream of sunlight down, down, on…

Sitting on a pillar. A torn half of a book.

Relieved and excited, you both jolted forward. You took the book, holding it to your heart. A deep sigh of relief washed over you as you looked at the god. His shoulders relaxed and there was a smile on his face. He wiped off his sides, placing his hands on his hips as he spoke.

“Well, that was-”

Loki’s voice was cut off. There was a rumble, to where you had to catch yourself from losing your balance. The library shook like there was an earthquake. Books fell over from the shelves.

“What-what’s going on?” you asked in a panic.

There were sudden, long, clanging bells from outside.

“It’s a Trap! We must hurry- now!” Loki cried.

As you ran forward, there were vines and branches that reached out and began to crawl from above the earth. They snaked over everything. Long, greedy fingers reaching toward you. Over the books in that library- and you could have sworn many of them had thorns.

You both broke into a run to the door, but several long vines snaked over the entryway, blocking it. A few thick branches reached to Loki, trapping him and then to your legs.

You gritted your teeth.

“Oh, no you don’t!” you said.

You shoved the book for Loki to hold while his arms were still free.

You opened a hand and released fire. They felt hot against your face and you could smell the burnt wood and greenery. It burnt the branches and vines, while not touching the god, freeing Loki’s feet. He wriggled his ankles out of the vines and then headed towards the door.

You let out two hands of fire- one to stop the growing vines. The other hand blasted through the door. As you hurried outside, you noticed the vines shriveled in the sunlight, turning brown and dying.

As you went outside, Loki still clutching the book. There were already bells in the distance.

“It’s an alarm- they’re raising an alarm! Quick!” he cried.

You blasted your fire through the maze- cheating a way out as you ran through. You saw a dark waistcoat and a figure jumped. It was Thomas Sharpe pacing about alone.

Loki grabbed him by the collar like a kitten.

“We have the book! Let’s flee! Now!” he insisted.

Thomas said no reply but hurried along with you. You both raced through the loud bells of the palace as you escaped out the front door.

You hurried over to the streets. Sure enough, Hal and Jonathan had ran- meeting you both in the street corner. Hal interestingly kept a sheath with a long sword dangling by his side.

“Do you have the book half?” you asked.

“Twas up to Robert to go and fetch it!” Hal breathlessly explained.

“It had a riddle and the answer was a part of the brain only he knew, And-” Jonathan began explaining.

But he was cut off as three armed guards pointed to you- with swords out.

“Thieves! THIEVES!” one boomed.

You let out a small gasp, your hand hurriedly rushing to get your dagger hidden in your skirt. Dear heavens- here it came- when-

“All of you, behind!” Hal cried.

He charged forward, wielding the sword.

Before any of you could say a word, Hal ran to the guards. He quickly thrust and parried through them. He knocked them down- then found weak spots in their helmets and sliced a sword through the first one’s skull.

You gasped, seeing the blood gush. He fell down as a corpse. He then grabbed the next one- slitting his neck and then the other one, with one clean sweep, he beheaded the third and last guard.

All of you stood speechless. Their blood was gathering on the cobblestones in a large puddle.

Hal resheathed his sword. He was catching his breath, his curls freed.

“Now, dear friends, let us get to Kved, now that this business is dealt with,” Hal spoke calmly to the amazed group.

All of you began to hurry towards the palace, when a figure in a grey suit came out, hurrying towards you all. Before you hurried none other than Robert. He was partially soaking wet, there being a squishy sound he made with each step of his shoes. Water dripped from his hair. His clothes clung to him. But he was alive and he had in his arms a book half.

“I did it! I got it! That didn’t go too bad!” he declared with a tired smile.

There was a “BOOM!” sound. The Kved Tower burst into flames and then began to crash down. Breaking into shambles. There were screams as people ran to it with buckets of water.

“You destroyed it??” Loki cried.

“Not intentionally!!” Robert refused.

Jonathan turned around with a slight roll of his eyes.

“There’s time for fighting among us later- let’s hurry back!” he insisted.

Loki made a portal and everyone jumped through. Sure enough, all of you landed promptly back in Asgard in the same meeting room. Catching each other's breaths and yet also laughing.

“Robert, why are you soaked to the bone?” you asked him.

Robert tilted his head to let water drain from his ear. He then placed the book half on the table and turned around. He took out a pack of cigarettes and his lighter from his pocket and frowned seeing that they were all soaked through.

“There were two riddles you had to guess. Hal got the first answer- and they gave him that sword. Then the second one- the real inner room it was in. Only one could go through it- the one who answered it. I figured out it was the brain-it’s my expertise, after all. After I grabbed it, there was a trap that made the room fill with water. But I made it out!” the doctor recalled.

Loki used his magic. A golden shimmer ran down Robert and he was dried in an instant.

“Now, everyone…let us see what it says about the spell,” Thomas suggested.

Loki placed the other half of the book on the table. Magic in a golden light reached between them- forming thin lines like stitches as the spine of the book was put back together. Everyone huddled together to watch. Jonathan reached to turn over the pages, all of you ready to see what it said. There were plenty of words on each page in big, black letters. But the writing of the book was not in a language you spoke. One you didn’t recognize. You turned to Loki, who put a hand to his forehead and groaned.

“Norns…” he muttered.

“What…what is it?” you asked.

Jonathan leaned forward. He studied it carefully.

“This…this seems to be more….nordic. But it’s old. I cannot make out what the words mean. And only one among us is accustomed to that,” the spy answered.

They all turned to Loki.

“I do not know a word of it…” he confessed.

All of you slumped. You felt your own hands bunch into fists. All of that work for nothing? A key was given…only it was still a few steps behind.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You did your best not to be discouraged. Though it was hard. But there were other pressing matters- Stella.

You went over to check on your friend in her room the next day. Since your little trip left her cared for, but alone except for a few servants, you promised to spend the day with her. She sat there on the chair before the windows, both of you sewing. Frigga heard of the new guest and was generous enough to supply thread and needles. Your own work was getting done, but so many times she set down her need. She sat there, looking out the window still.

“Is there…anything else you want to say about the camp?” you asked.

“No…I just wish….I could stop thinking about it, dwelling on it…it’s yet my mind keeps returning to it, reliving it” Stella mused.

You set down your own embroidery of a bird in flight.

“It’s just now…I get worried…frightened….that…he might find me. And any moment- he could be here…” she confessed sadly.

“I promise you, Stella. He doesn’t know you’re here. And he won’t know- and this place has guards everywhere,” you assured her.

There was a knock. In came none other than Sif as well as Loki and the other variants- Thomas, Hal, Jonathan, and Robert.

“Hey, how is she? We all want to know,” Sif asked as she folded her arms.

Stella looked up at the group, then at Sif.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Lady Sif…and I heard about a new guest here. And there’s a rumor you got…got captured, yes?”

“It’s true,” she nodded.

“Well- The queen sent me. I’m going to be your guard and accompany you now, especially when our other mortal girl is busy.” Sif shrugged.

“Us ladies have to stick together when we can!” you said with a smile. You saw Stella returned it, she reached for your hand. You clutched it tight, then as she looked at the others, her smile dropped.

“I am so sorry…for burdening you all. For interfering with everything I…I don’t want to be a bother…” she apologized.

“Oh, you couldn’t be!” Thomas interjected.

Stella looked up, trying to hold in her tears.

“I only…I don’t want to be scared!” she said.

You saw it in her- pressing it back. But you gave her the handkerchief with blue flowers and told her to let it out, to cry. Then she wiped her eyes.

“I’m so sorry…I shouldn’t be complaining…shouldn’t let all of you see me like this. I know this is much for all of you-I’m a good woman, I swear I am,” she said, shaking her yellow head.

“Oh, it doesn’t make you any less good just because you're unhappy,” Robert assured her.

Lady Sif looked around the plain, grey room with the plain, almost grey-ish furniture.

“Hmmph- if you stay all day cooped up like you have this week, you’ll make your room your prison,” the lady warrior said.

Loki folded her arms. “You should have seen your dear friend when she arrived here after her own heartbreak, Stella. Now look at her- smiling and thriving. You shall too, dear lady. Just give it some time.”

Stella looked again out the window.

“I’m…I’m not sure…I want fresh air but…but I’m just scared that…that…”

“The castle is heavily guarded,” Loki repeated.

“I know yet…yet…”

Jonathan leaned a little forward.

“Miss Harris,” Jonathan stepped forward. “There is a lovely, large garden here. Hundreds of flowers in bloom, roses tended to by the queen. Birds singing in the trees above you- Sif and I could accompany you there. I promise we won’t let you out of our sight for a second.” he offered.

She looked up at him. Her blue eyes became a little brighter.

“That sounds…very nice…as long as Sif or YN is there too,” she replied.

You gave her a smile. You remembered when you were still so used to your own time—getting used to being alone with men. No watching eyes. At least here, there would be some safety.

“The Gardens have lovely roses. And there’s a certain tree…the queen told me something about it, Stella. I’ll show you. I'll come up to join and tell you what she said right after I’m done training,” you told Stella.

Sif got up and opened the door, leading the way. The Night Manager offered his arm and she wrapped around it, walking over to the gardens.

As you passed by to go to the training room, there was a window overlooking the gardens. You saw them sitting on a bench outside. Indeed, the fresh air and the sight of flowers gave a warmth to Stella’s face. There was a peaceful smile on it. She walked about as Sif strolled around, hands in her pockets. Then she returned to sit on the bench there next to Jonathan. Sif kept chatting at them-you couldn’t hear what. Jonathan kept quiet- listening more than speaking. Sometimes gazing at Stella. Wisely, he only spoke when it felt needed.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A week passed. Stella seemed to improve slightly. She was sleeping better at night. She wore her blue beads every day and clutched them with white knuckles less often. She did more than just stare sadly out of windows. She visited the gardens daily, sometimes staying outside for hours. If you couldn’t be there, Sif stayed by her like a guard dog who would snarl at any enemy but wag its tail at their keeper. Thor met her and shook her hand so violently you feared it would come off. She became nervous when Queen Frigga came by to see her, but the Queen greeted the new guest with warmth, offering to tell her more in-depth about the gardens, like more like a mother figure than a powerful goddess.

Yet the disappointment of the spellbook still stung all of you. As hard as anyone tried, no one could make out a word. Not even Loki. The library was scoured to its darkest corner, but there were no translation guides kept in Asgard.

Then Loki called forth a meeting, but this time, there was a smile on his face.

“I have good news. I did some searching and asking…and there is a translation guide. All is not lost.” he announced.

There was an air of excitement among everyone. Thomas jolted upright. Hal leaned in a little closer. Robert had a giant smile on his face. Jonathan blinked, as if making sure this was really happening.

“Really? How?” Robert asked.

Loki held out his hand. A small image of a planet circling around in the air was conjured over it.

“There is a translation guide to the most ancient of Nordic…in Sakarr. In the Grandmasters palace.”

“What’s Sakarr?” you asked.

“A garbage planet. Full of the lowest, seediest scum. But full of games, tournaments, sports to keep its aliens and people happy,” Loki explained.

The little planet circled around in his hands. Then it vanished in a shimmer of light. But Loki pressed that hand to his chest, continuing his announcement.

“However…they will all have eyes on me. It will require someone sneaking around to find the book. But…there is a certain image of me…I have a history there. There’s a certain part of me they expect in Sakarr. It is savage, chaotic, lawless- and we must accept it and go with it. That side of me- it will show up-”

“Then- no matter! You play up the image and we will search! All of us!” you insisted.

“There’s a plan I have…but…”

His blue eyes went from the general group to focusing on you.

“And they already know about our lady. And…there’s a certain….image of you as well, my dear, that they have of you. And one you’ll have to play up. Or else there will be suspicion.”

“Alright, what role?” you questioned, shrugging your shoulders.

“I have to warn you…Sakkar is full of impropriety. You would hate the place. And you would hate what they heard about you- this…role. If you wish not to do it, dear Lady, I understand. It will make you…uncomfortable.” he apologized.

“Just tell me what I must do,” you pressed.

Loki explained it to you in a few words.

A hand flew over Thomas’s mouth. Hal had a small smirk. Robert turned away to regain control of the urge to laugh. Jonathan only looked intently, his face still.

You blinked. Then despite your nervousness, you took in a deep breath.

“I can do it. It doesn’t sound too bad. It’s all just pretend.” you responded.

Loki tilted his head, his jaw a little loose.

“Are you absolutely sure?” he asked.

“It might be new…but I will do it. For the sake of our mission, I will do it.” You announced.

Loki nodded, and then he turned to the others.

Loki nodded, he then grinned. He burst into a little half laugh that came out in a puff of air. It was him as much as his green and black robes.

“Well then- let us waste no time. And Jonathan- our dear Spymaster. You are the one most used to sneaking about, finding things. It will be up to you to find the book in the palace. YN will sense it and tell you. Can you do that?” the god asked.

Jonathan nodded, giving a little smile back.

“Of course, I can.”

Loki folded his hands, laying out the plan with the whole circle.

“I am in good favor with the Grandmaster. That will be to our advantage. He will let us all in and we will distract them- him especially. YN will sense where it is. She’ll tell Jonathan. Jonathan will find and get it as quickly as he can. Then we return. Simple as that.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Right before you left, a chest was brought. There was a screen for you to change behind. You slipped off your layers of clothes. Your stockings and boots were traded for simple sandals. The dress was easy to slip on.

Sakarr was surrounded by literal garbage like the sea around Asgard. It reeked of old rust and mold, making your nose curl. The city of Sakarr had red, green, yellow, and blue buildings. Far brighter, more colorful than you had ever seen, ever imagined a building to look.

The palace was unmissable. It was so tall, taller than any other building, that you nearly hurt your neck to look up, up, up. There were large statues of grey heads decorated in the middle. Ships flew through the air easily, making you gape in wonder at them. Going through the smog and crowds of people in cloaks, you felt a little awkward in your own garb. The other men were being as polite as they could to not gape at you. Then finally, giving a mutual nod, all of you stepped inside the palace. There were armed guards in black armor with either red or yellow accents. They noted you all as friends of Loki- and especially seeing you, they let you in.

The walls in the first rooms were grey and sleek- so futuristic, more than you could have ever imagined. Your powers reached out, sensing where things were. But sure enough, perhaps because it was touched more with technology than magic, your powers located the translation book.

You nudged Jonathan, then whispered in his ear.

“The study.”

He didn’t nod to make it obvious but gave you a look back and a small smile.

Then, you found the room Loki described- there were red and yellow lights. The thumping bass of music with whirring sounds. Music where you could not name the instruments. Blasting right into your bloodstream.

Once the doors slid open, you were let in right at the front. And you could feel their eyes on you. On your dress.

It was a rich, dark green. It practically shimmered with small sparkles beneath any light. No layers were worn beneath it. It was also very low cut, almost to your naval. The dips and curves of your cleavage full on display. It had to be. Your shoulders were exposed over the small sleeves. Then finally a long skirt a high slit, showing some of your legs. A dress that would give your parents- give anyone- from back home a heart attack. Lovely and deliciously scandalous.

You could already feel the eyes all on you. Some in desire. Sure enough, there were whispers and stares. All down your cleavage and leg. You knew what they were saying.

The Trickster God’s Whore. The one fabled around Sakarr. The woman who saved her own life when on the brink of death in exchange for warming the God of Mischeif’s bed.

Let them believe that. Let them be afraid of him. If not, a little afraid of you.

You made your place around them. All sorts of odd creatures and people mingling about this way and that. Waiting for the cue. Jonathan and Robert were merely polite. Hal fit right in as he got a drink in a glass and handed one to Thomas to sip on. Jonathan was quietly scanning everything- like your own group of guards.

Then there was attention as a man appeared. A man with tan skin, grey hair, and a grey goatee but with blue eyeliner, a blue mark on his chin, and yellow robes. Everyone turned their eyes down in respect. You felt his own eyes inspecting you, the exposed skin, and then he smiled.

The Gamemaster- you remembered everything from Loki’s explanation.

“Ah- so you’re our famous courtesan. Nice, Wonderful. Hmm- wouldn’t be surprised if all of you were.”

“It’s an honor to be here. And where is he? My own master?” you asked quietly, almost sultry. Folding your hands behind your back coyly and giving him a smile.

Then in walked Loki and heads turned. His leathers- pure black with armor on certain points. A long cape that was black on the outside, and yellow on the inside. Swaggering, chin up. Eyes full of deviousness. More like the Loki who first made the bargain with you when you first saw him in his true form. Without looking he reached over to where a servant carried a tray of drinks and got one without looking away. Heads turned again and even the music seemed to be dimmed a little.

“Ah, hello there- very good to see all of you…now…I have a lady waiting for me…” he announced.

He opened his arm- going forward. Then a hand. He smiled at you, one finger beckoning you to come hither.

“Come here, my dear,” he said.

You smiled at him, walking over to his side. The air felt cold on your exposed skin.

“Why…I must rest my feet- give me a seat!” he ordered.

“Who is letting my dear friend walk about? A seat!” The Grandmaster ordered.

One creature ran over, pushing aside several guests already sitting revealing a long, plush couch. They gestured over. Loki walked forward and sat there, taking you with him. You were about to sit next to him when he put a finger up to stop you.

“Ah- you are mistaken, my pet- this may be my seat, but this is your throne.”

With a small squeal escaping you, he picked you up with his large hands and placed you on his lap. Then masking it as delight, you smiled at him. Letting out a feminine chuckle as you wrapped your arms around him. Leaning in closer.

You felt his hand go down, fingers splaying over your leg. Looking up, you saw Jonathan had vanished. Now was time for a show. Time to stall. Distract- especially as the Grandmaster was here.

There was chatter and noise as the party continued. The others mingled- made small talk. The circle keeps any attention or questions about Jonathan’s disappearance to themselves. The Grandmaster began to discuss things you had no idea about with Loki. You merely smiled, feeling his touch all over you.

Loki’s hand went down to your inner thigh, squeezing it gently. You swallowed back a gasp from it, the touch, clutching onto him.

“Now then…where were we? Ah- yes, how is the business in Sakarr? And the Champions?” he asked going to the Grandmaster. “Who won last?”

“Korg. Again. At this rate- he will be my champion! Isn’t that just splendid!” he bragged.

“Hmm yes- oh he! The giant rock! Who would have expected it of him? Well- not at all. That is why we love it,” Loki commented.

His hand went further splayed- slowly touching you, running up and down your leg. Your bare skin on his bare skin. You felt something in your breath hitch.

Something in you…was stirring. Electricity. You looked down, feeling yourself get warm all over. Loki glanced at the Grandmaster.

“Sometimes my pretty little prize gets shy- how adorable of her. It only makes her more endearing to me. But this is a welcome place for her, and for us, hm?” he commented.

“Oh-of course…and by the way, as a thank you- there’s a room ready. If you need to…enjoy her for a bit,” The Grandmaster nudged with a wink.

Loki burst into light laughter.

“I will keep it in mind for later, I only wish to enjoy the party now,” Loki refused.

He tipped your chin and made you look at him. It made your mind go blank. Your breath quickened to a slight pause as he spoke- his beautiful profile right before you.

“Do not worry, pet. You do not have to…not yet. But you’ve been such a good girl for your god-”

He leaned over and kissed your neck—a small, sensitive area. A sound came out of you, like a moan. His hand got more and more up your inner thigh. A silent confession rang in your head. You liked him touching you. You liked his hand, his kisses. You liked being on his lap.

“Let me make sure you’ve enjoyed a drink here," he said.

Then he gestured for a servant to get you something to drink and a glass like an upside down triangle was placed on a small table before you.

Yet you didn’t want it. You just wanted, silently, for Loki’s hands to stay on you.

A feeling hit you. A feeling you never paid much attention to before. A feeling maybe you never had before. But his hands- his lips, his warmth. And the feeling was strong- stronger than it had ever been before.

Something was pooling between your legs. Something damp. It couldn’t be your courses- they ended recently. It couldn’t be urine. There was no smell of it. And it seemed to increase as Loki slid his hands over your bare skin. Making it feel cold, and tingly as he kept touching you, his long fingers possessively splaying over as he spoke.

It struck you. Your mother talked with you before your wedding and even longer before, the gossip you shared among friends. About the female body. What happened before the… act. Was this when…when…

“Your shield is down. And your mind is panicking,” his thought rang out in your head.

“What’s going on? What’s happening to me?” you asked silently, remembering to keep on the sultry smile.

“You don’t know…or you’re in denial…It’s only your body reacting to me, reacting to being touched, my dear. Nothing more to be scared about.”

“Loki, I…i just…”

“If you’re uncomfortable now…”

“No! We have to keep going! At least until they return!”

His eyes turned over to you, keeping its small smile.

“Say the word, and I will make it feel even better if you’d like….” he thought back.

Your heart beat harder. His smooth words in your head did nothing to stop the wet feeling between your legs. Only made it worse. You made no response to him. Could not. You forced your focus to the bright red and yellow lights over the grey walls and the music. Forcing yourself back in the present moment.

Perhaps anyone’s hand there on you would do the trick. You grinned away the discomfort, the strange feeling of arousal…and that you liked it.

Then one being- an Asgardian, clearly with a human appearance, with a bald head and muscles with a dark beard. Clearly stepped forward to approach all of you.

“Loki, when will the god of Thunder ever be caught? What a prisoner he would make for our games!” he asked, his voice a thick cockney accent.

“Skurge, that depends…why don’t you ask my dolt of a brother yourself? He’ll be glad to dance right in here,” Loki replied, shaking his head.

Skurge’s face got tight. His voice raised.

“Come on! Persuade him!” he demanded.

“I cannot. You cannot convince him of anything…” Loki continued to refuse.

“Then would you? It’s been so bloody boring lately!” he complained.

“Why would I waste my time fighting like that? It’s far less elegant for my taste, the style. Besides, I find spectator sport far more enjoyable...among…other activities,” he replied looking at you with a smile. He lifted your hand to kiss it and you felt yourself giggle a little, getting hot and tingly again.

Skurge huffed. He backed off and took three steps, and then he turned. And insulted loud enough that it echoed.

“I bet her cunt is the only spectator sport you like now, Lokes. Enjoy your filthy slut.”

Your mouth drops its sultry smile. You pressed a palm over your lips in shock, shame, to restrain a reply. Something cold dropped in your stomach.

Loki remained still. Very still. Looking right at the smug smile of Skurge.

Then a green light shone in the god’s eyes. In a split second, there were gasps as before his feet, stretching out, two shadows of Loki emerged. They reached out into the room and grabbed Skurge, pulling him to that grey wall.

The crowd gathered, and Loki only stared forward. His face was serene but focused. His eyes glowed green.

Skurge struggled, but in vain. Then, in a blink of an eye, they pulled both of his arms and twisted them in obtuse, angled directions. You heard the cracking of bones. Skurge released a pelting scream so loud that it could shake the palace. Then the shadows dropped him- his arms broken, fractured in many areas.

Your jaw dropped. The coolness earlier forgotten.

Loki glared at him right into his eyes, his arm re-wrapped around you again for protection.

“Call her that again…and it will be your neck,” he threatened quietly.

#loki my beloved #tom hiddleston #angst with a happy ending #fanfiction #loki fanfiction #hiddlesverse #tom hiddleston characters #carrie writes #tom hiddelston loki #dammit hiddleston #twhiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #loki fic #loki imagine #loki x reader #loki x fem! reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x fem! reader #loki mcu #loki mcu imagine #fic recs #loki marvel #stella ransome #a court of thorns and roses #a court of thorns and roses au #crimson peak #thomas sharpe

[aquagirl1978]

Act Two Suitors - Sariel Noir, Rio Ortiz, Silvio Ricci, Keith Howell, Gilbert von Obsidian Act Three Suitors - Kagari Amagase, Matthias Asbrink, Azel

Sariel Noir

Daddy (NSFW)

Rest Better

The Devil's Kiss (NSFW)

The Letter

Devil Inside

Rio Ortiz

Let Them Eat Cake

Unexpected Plans (NSFW)

Silvio Ricci

Modern Mafia AU

Dancing Under the Moonlight

A Very Good Morning (NSFW)

Insatiable (NSFW)

Wicked (NSFW)

The Ugly Sweater Party

Under the Stars (NSFW)

Diamonds (NSFW)

I'll See You Soon

Always On My Mind

Opposites Attract

Under the Covers

Karma (NSFW)

Keith Howell

Hands (NSFW)

Three Masks

Embraced in Love (NSFW)

The Stars at Night

Gilbert von Obsidian

Smile For Me (NSFW)

Beautiful Nightmare (NSFW)

Come Back to Me

Ascension (NSFW)

Mine (Be My Valentine) (NSFW)

Just Like That

Cherry Blossoms

Endless (NSFW)

Satin and Lace (NSFW)

Rose Red

Things That Go Bump in the Night

Shades of Grey

Live Laugh Love (NSFW)

My Cookie

A New Era

A Bunny for a Bunny

Forbidden Fruit (NSFW)

The Moon Darkens

Cinnamon Kiss

Seduction (NSFW)

Sanctuary (NSFW)

Fear

Warming Hands

Longing for the Love We Left

My Shining Star

Memories (NSFW)

To Love a Villain

Once Upon a Dream

Secrets and Lies

Stalker Tango

Alone Together

Dreams and Memories Fade Away

Beautiful Dreams

Maid for a Day (NSFW)

Lightning Crashes (NSFW)

Bad Romance

Little Lies (NSFW)

Do You Believe Me Now

Disarm (NSFW)

What Was I Made For (NSFW)

Hold Me Closer

Scratch

Matthias Asbrink

Winter Chill

Kagari Amagase

Petals in the Wind

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #masterlist #ikemen fanfic #ikepri fanfic #otome #otome games #otome fanfic

[brunossan]

RWBY JAUNE WITCH HUNTER AU

Part 3: Jaune and The Girls

*in the Last Episode, Jaune Arc discovered that Witches have a way to find their mates by seeing a certain light in someone's eyes. Now, this Witch Hunter apprentice is The mate of 4 Witches: Ruby Rose, Yang Xiao Long, Blake Belladonna and Weiss Schnee.*

*Now, The Narrator is gonna let Jaune tell How he is right now. After all, in The time of this AU, one week has passed.*

Jaune: Hum... I am supposed to read something?

*no, Jaune. Just Tell me, How this week has been.*

Jaune: Oh! Its... Been great. Im living pretty well actually.

*So They are treating you well?*

Jaune: I mean... In their own way. *Blushes.*

*If you do not feel ashamed, Tell me. How They are with you?*

Jaune: Can i Tell in Order? *The Narrator nods* Ok. I Will start with Ruby. She is gentle, kind and Very cute. And she loves weapons. Like, a lot!

flashback on

Ruby: Here, right here. *She shows her scythe to Jaune, focusing on The Blade* You see? Its getting blind.

Jaune: Blind?

Ruby: It means The Blade is getting Weaker. But with my Magic, i can revigorate It. *she uses her wand and The Blade is shining like New* See? Good as New!

Jaune: That's Very cool!

Flashback off

Jaune: And that night i discovered that It also affects organic things.

flashback on

Jaune: *panting, no clothes on bed* Ruby... Please... No more... Its been 6 times already... The others are gonna get angry...

Ruby: *on top of him, with a grinning Smile* Well, I was the one to bring you here. And I convinced Yang that you would Last The entire night in my First time so...

*she Takes her wand and touches The tip of his Dick with It. Without any further Warning, The massive dong rises again, Ruby smiling in a pervert way, while Jaune looks terrified.*

Ruby: Get ready for more 4 rounds of riding.

Flashback off

Jaune: Yeah... Ruby can be cute and kind. But in bed... I must pray to survive her lusy.

*And The other girls?*

Jaune: Oh, yeah. Well, Blake is like a cat. She is serious, acts like Nothing matters but... She has a Very cute and needy Side too.

Flashback on

Jaune: Is that... Cat ears?

Blake: Yep. *Reading an erotic book, sitting by his Side in The couch* I use to hide them in a bow, as Its a way Witch Hunters finds either Witches like me or Familiars.

*Jaune looks at her cat ears, an urge growing Inside of him. Blake notices his looks, grabbing its hand and putting it in her Head.*

Blake: Listen. If you ever Tell anyone that i like being petted, i Will turn you into a Frog And dissecate you. Got It?

Jaune: ... I got It.

Blake: Good. Now you can pet me.

*Jaune moves his Hand in Blake's Head, patting her. The Black haired girl then lets a small and cute purr, while clinging in The Blonde one*

Blake: You know, you have a good talent with hands.

Jaune: I was the best at polishing armors and giving massages in The academy.

Blake: Massages? *She lays in his lap, letting her back visible to him, smiling in a smug way* The girls Will take her time to Go back, so How about you give me a special massage?~

*Jaune gulps, as he looks at her back and butt. He looks around, trying to see If They are truly alone. Suddenly, his neck is pulled by a Black cat tail, making him get on top of Blake's back, his crotch near her butt. She smiles as she feels his bulge grows beetween her buttcheeks*

Blake: Oh, so you are Anxious for that~

Flashback off

Jaune: Blake is The boldest of them all. And likes to take risks. Different of Weiss. Weiss is... A princess. She is Very bossy and its on Command of everything. But there's The thing. She... Knows How to motivate everyone.

Flashback on.

*Jaune is swordfighting with Weiss in The forest, The girl overpowering him with its Rapier. Suddenly, with a fast cut, Weiss disarmed him, slicing its rusty armor in half. Jaune drops his Sword, putting his hand up*

Jaune: I surrender.

Weiss: Good. *she makes her Sword disappear* Its Very rare for a Witch Hunter to surrender.

Jaune: Im not totally a Witch Hunter, you know.

Weiss: Yes That's why i Said It, dolt. *she cleans her hands*. You need to improve If you wanna have a chance against me. Or anyone.

Jaune: I got it... *He turns around, going towards The house.*

Weiss: Where are you going?

Jaune: Im tired. I wanna rest. *he bumps into an Ice wall* ouch!

Weiss: You are not tired. I can Sense it. Come here and Tell me what's wrong.

Jaune: Im saying im Fine! Its not enough?

*Weiss opens its arms, Jaune dont understanding any of this. Suddenly, an Ice Pillar pushes him towards her, The girl embracing The taller One in a gentle hug.*

Jaune: W-weiss what are you doing? *He asks as he blushes, his Head in her chest*

Weiss: People used to treat you harsh, right? And your calming mechanism... Was hiding. Lying that you are tired Just for staying alone... *She touches his hair, stroking it.* And crying.

Jaune: I dont cry. Im Fine.

Weiss: Jaune... *She pulls him down, making him knee* You know that a week has passed and The light didnt faded away, right?

Jaune: ... Yeah.

Weiss: So dont be afraid of crying on my shoulder when you want to. Ok? You are my mate, our mate. And... I wont think you are weak If you show me your feelings.*

*Jaune Arc stopped resisting The hug and started letting himself be embraced by Weiss arms, all while sunking its Head in her shoulders and, in silence, letting The tears flow. Weiss stroked his hair, while thinking that Maybe They werent so different after all.*

Flashback off

Jaune: I like that she is The Ice Witch but gives me The warmest hugs. Even in bed. Her favourite position is anyone where she can hold in me. In my opinion, i think she is The most clingy.

*I see that your Relationship with them has improved. But i have a question for you. And Yang? You still didnt talked about her.*

Jaune: Oh. Yang. Of course. Well... She is... Difficult. Very difficult. I dont think she likes me much. In fact we still didnt did... Anything. *Sigh* I still think she wants to Crush me.

*I as The Narrator knows everything. However, i cant Tell you much. All i can Tell to you its to be patient. Because you still need to Dig deeper Into her Heart.*

Jaune: Can you give me some advice?

*Unfortunally, only on next episode. Also, If someone wants to know something more about this séries, The Askbox and The comments are always open. See you later.*

*To be Continued...*

#RWBY #jaune #jaune x blake #jaune arc #rwby au #blake belladonna #rwby fanfiction #jaune au #romance #ruby rose witch #ruby rose #fanfic #rwby #jaune x weiss #weiss witch #blake witch #blake x jaune #jaune x ruby #lancaster #white knight #dark knight #jaune x yang

[wolveria]

AU - Both Pollened for that WIP game?

Good choice good choice

There was nothing very disarming about the SCP waiting inside. The door slid back to reveal the dark form sitting at the table, his shoulders slightly hunched, and his head bowed. His mask lifted upwards so quickly it was almost a jerk, his eyes focused on you like a large hawk spotting a mouse in a meadow.

You frowned at the unusual display but continued forward, your tablet held against your chest as you entered the interview room. The Class III Humanoid Restriction Harness was in place, two extender bars connecting the collar around his neck to the grips of the two guards who flanked him. Even sitting down with his wrists shackled to the table, they weren’t taking any chances.

Typically, you would be at ease in the SCP’s presence, but something had clearly agitated him. You assumed the guards had been rougher than necessary, leaving the poor entity ruffled and misused.

You sat at the table opposite of SCP-049, laying the tablet flat on the table, and gave him a reassuring smile.

“I’m going to ask you a few questions today. Is it okay if I record this interview?”

The SCP stared at you, but his grey eyes seemed fixed on the wall behind you.

“SCP-049?”

“I would not suggest making a record for what is about to transpire, but I fear that decision is outside your control.”

It was your turn to stare. The SCP’s words had been low, grinding in his throat as if it was difficult to speak, and his eyes were now focused on you far too sharply.

“SCP-049, are you feeling all right?”

One of the guards behind you clicked his radio, but you heard nothing else, indicating he had switched to his headset. Behind the glass, the weight of their stares were heavy on you, a reminder that your position was on the line.

There was a crinkle of chains as 049's folded hands shifted on the table.

“Are you?”

The question brought you up short. The way it was presented was fairly neutral, but this level of stubbornness was unlike him.

“049, if you are unwilling to cooperate for this interview, then you will be escorted back to your cell.”

“No. I will not.”

He leaned forward, chains pulled taut at the movement.

“Neither you nor I will be leaving this room. Not, I suspect, for a while.”

You opened your mouth to ask him what the hell was wrong with him, and then fell silent. Guards on both ends of the room suddenly turned, opened the door, and walked out.

All you could do was watch, startled into inaction until the room was emptied of all but you and the SCP.

You leapt from your chair, tablet forgotten as you swiped your keycard in front of the reader. It didn’t so much as beep. You pounded on the door, calm professionalism forgotten as you were left trapped inside.

You went over to the mirrored observation window next, banging your hand into the surface so hard it wobbled. Panic rose in place of confused anger. Your forehead was beaded with sweat, your hair already damp, and heat sufficed your skin.

“You are feeling the effects.”

You met 049’s reflected gaze in the mirror.

“The effects of what?”

His head tilted, as of the answer was obvious.

“Whatever they have given us both.”

Your mind immediately backtracked to earlier that morning and the unusually bitter coffee some tech had handed you before the interview.

049 must have glimpsed it in your eyes, the conclusion you’d drawn with the facts you were given. You and the SCP were caught in an experiment, exposed to an unknown chemical, and the results would be documented.

Without warning, the SCP yanked through his chains, the links scattering across the floor like spilled jewels from a broken necklace. He rose to his feet, broad shoulders blocking out the light behind him, his beaked mask dipped as his gaze burned through you.

You bolted from the window into the far corner of the room, but the entity was right on your heels. He grabbed a fistful of your coat, yanked you backwards, and slammed you onto the nearest surface: the interview table.

#the raven's hymn au #trh au #scp 049 x reid #scp 049 x reader #wip game #anon #reid and 049 don't really know each other yet so he's a lot colder in this one #but it'll be fine don't worry ;)

[dilemmaontwolegs]

OLLIE OLLIE OLLIE !! Hey ! How are you ?? I’ve had an idea and I’m gonna burst if I don’t share it . So Bucky , any AU Bucky would do but maybe Mafia !? Where Bucky is a fuckboy , sleeping with a different girl , sometimes more than one , every night , always walking around with a girl on his arm and making out with them even when he’s handling business . But then he meets you … he stops sleeping around and does everything in his power to win you over . And everyone is dumbfounded seeing the notorious mob boss and womanizer having puppy eyes for a girl that’s seemingly so unlike him and so different from all the girls they’ve seen him with before . And then you’re the only girl he’s kissing and having on his lap in public ! I couldn’t stop thinking about it and I thought you might like the idea !! Have a great day

I’ve spent too much time in Australia because I immediately wanted to chant back Oi!!! Oi!!! Oi!!! 😂

Been a while since I wrote for mafia! Bucky, thanks for the request!

Obsidian Nights || mafia!Bucky

Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, mentions of sex, sexual themes, fluffiness WC: 3.3k

bucky masterlist

Every night was the same for Bucky, like Groundhog Day but involving a lot more sex. His bedroom door may as well have been revolving the way he worked himself through every single lady in New York. There was a rolling joke that Bucky checked women's names off his list faster than Lou Bega in Mambo No.5. His youth passed in blurr of unfamiliar faces waking up next to him with the hopes of another night together but they never came. 

Bucky was certain he was living his best life and happy riding his metaphorical merry-go-round each night in Club Obsidian. He was certain he would never fall for the greatest trick of all time - monogamy. He was absolutely certain, until he locked eyes with an angel. You shook him to his core, made him question his beliefs, your innocence attracting him like a moth to a flame.

“Steve, who’s that?” Bucky asked as he nudged away the woman who had been sitting on his lap waiting until he was ready to leave and take her with him.

Steve shook his head as yet another woman caught his best friend's eye and turned in his seat to follow his gaze. “Not a clue, pal, but she’s not your type anyway. She looks like a good girl.”

Bucky downed his drink and rose from the VIP table, ignoring the hands that trailed his body as he walked through the crowd towards the bar. He couldn’t deny what Steve said, you were everything Bucky had avoided; a kind smile, shy eyes and a dress that, however beautiful on you, covered far too much skin. 

“Are you lost, doll?” Bucky leant in and asked, a quiet squeak of fright escaping as you stepped back. His stomach knotted at the sweet sound and his heart rate spiked as he followed your step with a teasing smile that disarmed you. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Let me get you a drink.”

“I don’t drink.” You answered, finally finding your voice after staring at his eyes for too long, the blue seeming to be too iridescent for the dark club. Over the handsome strangers shoulder you spotted your friends who had invited you, their attempts at getting you out of your apartment finally working, and you waved to get their attention. “Thanks for the offer.”

You ducked out before he got a chance to reply, his frown deepening as he felt his first rejection in years. Immediately you noticed how excited your friends were as they pulled you into a close circle.

“Holy shit! You were talking to the one and only Bucky Barnes.” Your roommate Nat gushed as your friends all sighed longingly.

You looked over your shoulder but he had disappeared into the crowd, no doubt off to find another woman to buy a drink for. “It was nothing.”

“I wouldn’t call that nothing.” Nat scoffed knowingly as a regular patron of the club. “He barely leaves his Ivory Tower in the VIP section, he must have thought something of you to descend among the commoners.”

“Jesus, you make him sound like a King.” You laughed as waved off her silliness but found the others nodding seriously. 

Nat leant in and whispered in your ear, a shiver running down your spine. “Word is his family runs the mob.” 

You looked around inconspicuously and froze as you caught sight of him standing at the edge of the VIP section, gripping the metal railing as he scanned the crowd and stopped at you. A smile played at his full lips and the strobe lights illuminated his sharp cheekbones as he stood up a little straighter and ran his tongue over his bottom lip hungrily. 

The air of dominance, the tailored suit, the glint of a diamond encrusted rolex on his left wrist - you stepped back and shook your head. “I just wanted a nice night out and you brought me to a bloody mob hangout?” 

“This is Brooklyn.” Nat pointed out with a laugh. “They practically own everything.”

Your fingers twirled your bracelet around your wrist and you snuck another glance to the VIP area but Bucky was nowhere to be seen. You weren’t quite sure if the feeling in your stomach was from relief or disappointment but you put it from your mind as your friends dragged you to the bar to order some drinks. Your mocktail looked delicious as you handed some cash over the bar but the bartender gave it back with a shake of his head.

“Courtesy of Mr Barnes.” 

“Oh, that’s not necessary.” You said, trying and failing once again to pay before tucking it back in your clutch. 

“If the big guy wants to pay, I say let him.” Nat said as she clinked her glass with yours. “You could do with a little male attention. Dust out the cobwebs, have some fun.”

“I have no interest in being another notch in a belt.” You laughed, taking a sip of the fruity drink. “Thanks for your concern but I am quite happy-” 

“Running up the electricity bill every night with your wand?” She teased before choking on her drink. “Um, I’m going to go check out the dance floor.”

She darted into the crowd quickly with her agile steps and disappeared as you were left along to question what had just happened. The answer came in the form of a hand on your lower back and you turned to see a pair of bright blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Here I was thinking you were a good girl.” Bucky chuckled, his thumb rubbing over your spine in time to the music. “But this is so much better.”

“Isn’t there anyone else for you to bother?” You sighed, unintentionally piquing his interest even more.

He looked over the crowd, a dozen women openly undressing him with their eyes but he felt nothing for them. “Sure, but there’s really no fun in that.”

You rolled your eyes, forgetting for a moment who it was you were talking to. “Lucky me.” 

The pressure on your back increased as he stepped closer and it was either take a step and let him lead you where he wanted or have his body flush with yours. It was a tough choice but you let him walk you to the VIP area, the velvet rope being opened for you by a sinister looking man with a gun on his hip. Bucky paused to talk to the bouncer at the bottom of the steps and pointed out your friends on the dancer.

“Get them a table and service on my tab.”

You stopped in your tracks and turned on Bucky, taking the high ground and using it to bolster your confidence. “You do realise that dropping money isn’t going to make me sleep with you.”

“It’s cute that you think that is dropping money.” He teased as he stepped up so he was eye to eye with you. “Tomorrow, 6 o’clock.”

Your jaw dropped and you blinked dumbly as you waited for the punchline that never came. “Excuse me?”

“Have dinner with me.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought but you did you best to hide your surprise. “I get the feeling that’s not a question.”

He tipped his head to the side and you would have said it was cute if it wasn’t for the cocky smirk on his face. “I get the feeling you would say no if it was.”

“God forbid anyone say no to you.” You said as you failed to hide the smile growing on your face. “Fine, but I’m choosing the restaurant.”

“Deal. Seal it with a kiss?”

You couldn’t help laughing at his confidence and you leant in to press a chaste kiss to his cheek, the sly mobster seeing your intention and turning his head at the last moment so your lips connected with his. Every nerve ending in your body electrified at the touch and you were lost in the sensation of his soft lips as his hands curved around your waist.

“That was very sneaky.” You pointed out as you regained your senses and remembered where you were, ignoring the part of you that wanted nothing more than to taste his lips again.

He ran the back of his knuckles gently over your cheek, his eyes tracing your lips. “You don’t get anywhere in life without a few risks.”

Nat was barely waking up when you were getting ready for your dinner date, her moans and groans echoing through the apartment as she dragged herself from her bed to raid the food cabinets to ease her hangover.

“Why are you getting all dolled up?” She asked, pressing a cool bottle of water to her pounding forehead. 

“You don’t remember anything from last night?” You chided as you tossed her a bag of crisps. “You probably bankrupted Bucky with the drinks you were ordering.”

She frowned as she tried to remember the details of the night, finally gasping as she pointed at you. “Holy shit! You and Bucky! You were getting awfully friendly at his table. Did he drive us home?”

“Well, technically his driver did.” You corrected as the apartment buzzer sounded. “And that is probably him now. Don’t forget to rehydrate and I’ll see you tonight. Love you.”

She groaned in response as she dropped her head to the table and buried her hand in the packet. “You too, stay safe, use protection.”

“What do you mean you’re going on a date?” Steve laughed through the phone. “With the teetotal good girl?”

“Her name is Y/N.” Bucky growled as his driver pulled up to the apartment he had stopped by the night before, when he helped you carry your half conscious roommate inside. “Were you calling for a reason or just to bust my balls?”

“Nah forget it, it’s nothing urgent.” Steve chuckled. “You have fun while I console all the sad and lonely women, mourning the loss of James Buchanan Barnes.”

“Shut up.” Bucky laughed. “I’m going on a date, I’m not getting married.”

“Yet…but this is how it begins.”

Bucky hung up the phone as Steve hummed the tune to ‘Here Comes the Bride’, the teasing thankfully not enough to ruin his mood as the car came to a stop. He had memorised your apartment number and quickly hit the buzzer beside the door, noting your last name on the little tag. He couldn’t stop fiddling with his cufflinks or decide whether he looked too formal with his starched dress shirt buttoned to his neck, a wave of disconcertion he wasn’t used to washing over him as he tugged at his neckline and unbuttoned the top before he suffocated.

“Oh, wow. You look…” You were lost for words as you stepped out of your building to find Bucky waiting in a full suit, his hair slicked back and his eyes taking in your far more casual appearance. “Over dressed.”

You giggled as he looked appalled at the idea but he closed his mouth when you stepped closer and opened another button so you could see the gold chain hanging around his neck. Next you grabbed his suit jacket that was already unbuttoned and eased it off his shoulders before folding it up.

“Roll your sleeves up.” You ordered as you messed his perfectly styled hair up and stepped back to see the result. “Not half bad.”

“Who needs self esteem anyway?” He winked, doing a turn that was worthy enough for a runway model at a Milan fashion event. “So, judging by this high end street fashion, you haven’t chosen a restaurant I would have heard of.”

“You gave me the VIP treatment last night, it’s time to return the favour.”

His eyes narrowed at your evasive tone but he didn’t question you as he led the way to the car, opening your door before walking around. You had already told his driver where to go when he slid in beside you, even more curious than before.

“It’s not often that I’m the last to know what’s happening.” He said as he took your hand, the thick signet ring on his finger warm to the touch.

“Just relax, I promise this will be the best cuisine money can buy.”

He looked doubtful as he watched the streets roll by until his driver came to a stop outside a busy underground parking lot.

“Come on.” You enticed him with a curled finger as you opened the door. “There’s no valet here.”

He followed you into the cordoned off parking lot, the aroma of food drifting up from the ramp to the next level down.

“There’s a restaurant in a basement?” He asked with confusion and doubt.

“Not quite.” You smirked, the full sight of the night market spread far and wide, dozens of food trucks all lined up with their music and food creating a bustling atmosphere. “If it makes you feel better, I’ve never once got food poisoning from eating here.”

“That’s really just super comforting.” He laughed and shook his head. “Where do we begin?”

You were absolutely stuffed by the time you made it around all the stalls, Bucky indulging you both in almost every type of food they had to offer. You had collapsed onto a picnic table as you waited for your food to settle and found Bucky watching you with a reserved reverence.

“What?” You asked as his smile grew.

“Nothing,” he grinned, “it’s just, this is the best date I’ve ever been on and it was completely unexpected.”

“I suppose I’ll be just as surprised next weekend when it’s your turn to choose.”

“If you think I’m going to wait a week before I see you again, you’re crazy.” He said as he shuffled closer and straddled the bench seat.

You swung your leg over the bench so you were mirroring him. “Tomorrow, 6 o’clock.”

“Deal. Seal it with a kiss?”

“I feel like I never see you anymore.” Nat pouted as you flattened out a crinkle on the dress Bucky had bought for you.

“You could always come with us?” You offered but she shook her head. “I thought you liked his club?”

“I do but no thanks, I’m still recovering from the last hangover.” She complained. “Maybe next month. God, I sound old.”

You gasped and reached for her curly red hair. “Is that a grey hair?”

“Shut up.” She slapped your hand away and even though she knew you were kidding she had to go to the bathroom mirror to check. “Ha, knew it, now get out of here.”

It was one of the rare nights that Bucky wasn’t able to pick you up and it felt strange riding in the back seat of his Bentley all alone. At least when you arrived at Obsidian you were able to walk straight in and not have to join the long queue snaking around the building and off down the street.

The club was absolutely packed but nothing could get in the way of spotting Bucky. His ringed hand was resting on the rail as he looked over his kingdom, life flooding into his cold eyes when he spotted you. He met you halfway, his bright smile reaching his eyes as his hands caught your hips and pulled you in.

“Hi beautiful.” He greeted, his hands spreading across your back until one caught the nape of your neck. “You like to torture me, don’t you?”

You opened your lips to answer but it was swallowed by his kiss that melted you into his embrace. The intense feelings that had been building between you were raging in your body, the need to have him completely leaving your core throbbing. But it was his idea to take things slow, not that you argued, you both wanted this to be special and not just another lost lover between his satin sheets.

“This isn’t a walk in the park for me either.” You admitted as you played with the stiff lapels of his pinstripe suit.

“Your poor wand must be working overtime.” He teased, earning a soft slap to his chest.

“That was so embarrassing.” You muttered as you looked away and cringed only for him to catch your chin and turn you back.

“Why? I find it sexy as hell.” He bit his lip and pressed his hips into yours, showing you exactly the effect you had on him. His voice dropped even deeper as his lips brushed below your ear. “Been imagining the things you’re doing late at night when I’m not there.”

Your heart rate spiked and you sucked in a lungful of air as he kissed his way down your neck to your collarbone, a trail of goosebump left in his wake. “Bucky? How important is it that we are here tonight?”

He groaned as he spotted the very businessman who was hoping to buy Bucky’s protection from a rival family. “Hold that thought for five minutes, doll.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” You kissed his cheek and headed to the VIP area where you wouldn’t be bundled about in the crowd.

“Drink?” Steve offered as he sidled up beside you before smirking. “Oh wait, you don’t drink, right? No drinking, no sex - what does my boy see in you…”

“I don’t think that it’s any of your business.” You said, turning to face Bucky’s best friend. “And I’d like to keep it that way.”

You caught movement at the stairs and found your boyfriend passing the velvet rope so you pushed off from the bar and paused at Steve’s broad chest to look up at him. “Just for the record, you don’t seem to be having such a bad time rolling in his leftovers. Maybe that’s where your focus should be and not worrying about what I may or may not be doing with Bucky.”

“Hey, doll, ready to get outta here?” Bucky asked, his mind filled with thoughts of you and completely oblivious to the tension.

You stepped into his open arm with an eager smile. “How about we go back to your place tonight? Wouldn’t want to keep Nat up.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up his forehead and he shoved his beer up to his lips before he made a remark that would keep him on your bad side.

“You sure?” Bucky asked quietly.

You nodded, absolutely certain you wanted to take your relationship with him to the next level, but you couldn’t help a little teasing along the way. “I’m sure…we just might have to burn your mattress first. God knows what filth a black light would find on it.”

“Way ahead of you baby. I bought a new one weeks ago.” He said proudly, punching Steve in the shoulder with a laugh when he pretended to whip the air behind Bucky. “Fuck off, punk.”

— —

“So this is the best money can buy.” You moaned as you floated on cloud 9, the mattress the most comfortable thing you had ever laid on before. “It’s amazing.”

“Only the best for my girl.” Bucky chuckled as he flopped down beside you.

Rolling over to rest your chin on his chest and look him dead in the eyes. “As long as I’m the only girl in this bed.”

His lips curled up into a panty dropping smile and his arms encircled you to pull you over his body. “You’re unlike any woman I’ve ever met, the only one I ever want in this bed.”

Your stomach tightened at his promise and you pushed yourself up so you were left straddling his hips, your desire driving your hips to roll and increase the friction between you. “Then how about we break this bad boy in?”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x poc!reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #mafia!bucky #mafia!bucky barnes x reader

[headingalaxys-spicy]

Mating Season AU: France 🇫🇷

Warning :🌶️ Spicy Content

He was strumming his medium-length manicured fingernails on his glass table. His smile was wide, and his thin tail whipped back and forth impatiently. He waited for the nighttime to fully show off the pink moon's glow. He would be at full power, and your body would begin to inch up to pink horniness. He glided over to his mirror that was installed in front of one of his cozy chairs so that he could be fully submerged in the enchanting view.

Francis had been planning this day like a well-crafted battle plan. He’d stalked you for a full year from a distance writing down all the things you adored, hated, or felt neutral about. He adored you and he wanted his first time with you to be something manifique! He’d set up the best lingerie in (fav color) that would complement your gorgeous skin. He’d also been refraining from relieving himself for a whole 365 days, so his urges were strong, and his relief could be felt from the highest heights of heaven. His cock was in serious pain as it was large and abundant with his seed. His bright blues glazed over to the clock only about five more minutes before his fun could begin.

You’d been at home relaxing after a long stressful day. Yet for whatever reason, your sixth sense of being watched was heightened tonight. You didn’t understand why seeing a glowing bright scarlet rose that twinkled brightly against the indigo sky caught your (eye color) eyes in a deep trance that somewhat put you at ease. There was a crisp gust of fresh spring air that whooshed past you. It felt as if a storm was brewing on the horizon. You suddenly felt something brush against your back and butt. When you turned around to confront the present that brushed up against you, there was nothing out of the ordinary to greet your sight. It was strange, but you let the thought go. It would be insane for you to dwell on something that couldn’t be sustained. But over the year, you thought over how this heightened fear of being watched or hunted rather. It would last for a few moments and sometimes even minutes….but this feeling of dread and a sudden onset of desire to be in one's arm was only getting stronger. It was like a pair of eyes was stuck to your body like glue and made you feel particularly vulnerable. As you watched the last of the sunlight fade and the pale pastel pink moon become more prominent in your view…your body began to feel extremely heavy, like being tied down with cinderblocks and being prodded with rose thorns. You also began to feel heat pool between your thighs.

‘Why?’ ‘What?’ Were the only thoughts that came to your mind. As the world around you became hazy and your vision began to fill with glittery pink smoke, the clouded your vision. You felt inebriated. You felt high. It was pure ecstasy.

You suddenly felt large but somewhat gentle hands run over your only slightly covered chest, which was beginning to swell with milk. You felt a woosh of hot air reach your neck before you felt a nibbling sensation in your left ear. A husky French voice whispered eagerly to you. It sent a shocking shiver down your spine. It hardly registered to you that a velvet (favorite color) teddy lingerie was over your body and straining the fabric hardly containing your coconuts.

“Hello, Mon Chere~” A few pointed kisses nailed at your collarbone began to disarm your senses more, dulling your initial shock from being pulled into a completely different realm altogether.

“Who are you? And why?” His hand had grasped your boob that continued to fill. You let out a loud moan that was like music to his ears. His cock was fully perked up and grinding on the back of your thigh.

‘How exciting! The execution of my plan was flawless! Y/N is hardly aware of what's happening to her!’

A hungry. ‘Hon. Hon. Hon.’ reaches your ear as the grinding becomes more aggressive.

“It’s nice that you’re finally in my arms, Y/N! Your soft body is like that of, fresh Tartiflette and you smell divine.” He places his nose in the crook of your neck and takes a deep inhale. “I’m going to be devouring you tonight so that we can create a marvelous family tree! Our children will be so beautiful!” He felt himself stiffen some more and his hands gripped your thighs from behind, making sure that they were as far apart as possible.

“Ah! No wait …please” It didn’t come out as loudly or as strongly as you liked. Your vision was still clouded and you could feel the heat radiate off of a toned body that was just beneath you. You felt a claw-like hand scrape across your butt and move your lingerie with one swift move. He began to finger you while his other hand stayed busy as he massaged your swollen tits.

“You can feel free to sing my name to all of the demon kingdoms and to the heavens let everyone know!” As his finger toyed with your neither region and began to prepare you for a much larger size. His lips began to pepper your skin with kisses which did make your heart flutter but your mind feel confused. Where you having some lucid daydream that felt entirely real?

‘Nigh..ugh..I..’

“I what Y/N? Going to start singing my name? Which is Francis by the way.” Taking a break from kissing before he started his campaign to give you a few hickeys. He really wanted to leave his mark on his beautiful canvas. He started on your lower left collarbone and at first kissed your skin then progressively started to lick and nibble on your soft skin. The he bore his sharpened canines and sunk it in to make a mark and to make you bleed.

You let out a loud shriek in pain and your vision suddenly became crystal clear and you were able to see that you were no longer in your apartment alone you were in a large bedroom that was decored with tons of black lace.

“Oh Mon Chere, you have a nice scream. ” France sweetly teases. “And my name is Francis by the way.”

You felt like this was far more weird than some weird lucid dream. You wiggle free from his grip even though you were still in a pretty dazed state. But you wanted to fight back. You had to get out of this crazy dream. Although you didn’t want to admit the sudden emptiness between your legs desired more. You also hadn’t realized the small scratches from France’s sharp rose branches drew blood but also were the entry points for his love drugs.

“Oh my sweet Y/N, that was only the beginning.” He licked his lips eagerly. He was eager to get on top of you so he could fill your entire being. He was hardly registering anything that you were saying France had fully reached the height of his hunger, and it needed to be satiated.

When your eyes collided with the once pure cyan but transformed into scarlet eyes that burned with desire. Nothing could save you now. He snapped his fingers and rose thorns had pinned you to the bed with your arms above your head and your legs spread wide. The fantasy of you enjoying all of this is playing out like a live theatre show in Francis's mind.

“An actual demon!” You quiver out. Your body trembled and you weren’t entirely sure if it was out of pleasure or fear. You felt your thighs burn and felt Francis's body hair rub up against yours, only making your desire skyrocket. You squirmed a little but to no avail the thorns sunk deep within your skin, leaving further evidence that this was far more real than you’d like. And it would be only one of the many marks that prove that he’s claimed you.

Francis leaned down to plan a kiss on your forehead.

“Don’t be scared, C’here. I’ll be rough only for the first hour or so. I can control myself….kind of.” That last part was reassuring…..

You only felt your body break out in a cold sweat, and you felt the lingerie that tried to cover you was now gone. Your bare body is all for him to see.

“I want to be passionate with you. Not harm you but, I’ve been holding back….” You felt his hands grip your behind firmly, and your hips gladly bucked up to reach the tip of his dick. Francis had to bite the bottom of his lip for a moment as he was excited and wanted to savor this moment for his long-term memory: Your dazed loving sight, vulnerable and ready to devour. His cock teased you a little as it went up and down your wet vagina. You let out an audible squeak that sounded mostly excited but still confused.

‘It’s possible I’m hallucinating somehow.’ Still in denial of the situation that is unfolding.

Francis's sudden first trust within you was a shocking surprise. His girth was large and his earlier strokes did nothing to prepare you for his size. While he lets himself pulsate in your walls, he takes a moment to help you get a better grasp of the situation.

“No, you're not hallucinating, my love. I’ve chosen you to be my mate so you can bear my children.” He lets out a low moan and grunts as he continues to hold himself back from pumping into you just yet. The hairs all over his body stood and and felt electrifying. It swept over your glossy skin making the urges you felt within you worse and caused all of your body to begin to heat up with tension as you began to feel your heartbeat faster. He leaned his head down to grace your forehead with more kisses as he gently whispered your name and began saying sweet nothings in French. The brush of his stubble touched your skin tanatilizingly and you meweled under him as he moved his member moved inside of you slowing adding to the needy heat and pressure within you.

“Oh honey, you don’t have to hold back I know you want to moan loudy~” As if on cue you do so.

“Ahhhhh~” It was weak but filled with pained lust. Francis had gripped your hips tighter and forced himself deeper into your scorching core. You hear him chuckle as he thrust into you once with the force of a jack hammer.

“Ah!” The sharp reactionary scream rings to his ears and makes him about to lose the last few threads over himself. He began to kiss you to the bridge of your nose, to the tip of it and takes over your lips in an elongated kiss that drew all of your breath and strength from within you. His lips moulded with yours like wet clay being shaped to his perfect fantasy.

“Y/N. Y/N……….” He sings out to you as he takes one more chance to give you yet another hickey on your collarbone. His speed is beginning to pick up progressively and your overstimulated by all of the sensations that not only leave you on cloud nine but also confused about the state of where you are and what your life is now supposed to look like.

Francis tail wraps around your stomach and clenches it tightly. Francis hands move from your breasts that swelled to the size of ripe pumpkins down to your sweaty thighs and gripped them tightly. He was beginning to reach his climax.

“Say my name C’here!” He calls out to you desperately.

Your mind dispells some of the fog and you’re able to recognize that who you’re making love to isn’t someone that is fully human. But you wanted to be able to preserve yourself and not die. All you could do was let out a low pleasured grunt and try to remember his name. What was it again?

He thrusted into you harshly and you let out a squeak. It jogged your memory through the thick sweet haze that was continuing to cloud your mind.

“Ance!” is what you squeeked out in reaction. He thusted hardly once more to help you with your brain fog. He continued until you were able to shout his name to the heavens.

“FRANCIS!” You yelled out it was like a symphony to his ears and Francis was high off the moment of being able to climax he released his hot seed within you and it spilled out onto the onyx duvet. He rode out the rest of his orgasim and pulled out his shrunken flaccid cock as he smothered himself with your heavy clevage. You whimper as your were still highly sensitive to touch due to your sexually heightned state.

“Oh, Y/N. I love you and I’m glad that you’re going to be my Queen.”

⭐️📖😊⭐️Thanks for reading ya‘ll ⭐️😊📖⭐️

#hetalia #hws france #hetalia mating season au #hws #hetalia fandom #yandere hetalia #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #headingalaxys spicy #ヘタリア #spicy hetalia #headingalaxys spicy writes #francis bonnefoy #hetalia demon au #x reader #oh boy ya girl is really on her nonsense #dark hetalia #hetalia imagines

[thatwritingho]

The Dragon Gate

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Violence Summary: A chance encounter with The Murmaider's First Mate, Pickles the Pirate, lands siren-in-disguise Olive Axworthy a sweet new gig as doctor for the notorious crew lead by Captain Nathan Explosion. Chemistry brews between First Mate and the newest crew member, and Olive struggles with her developing emotions as a being without a heart. Can she learn to love - and to want to love - even if it means the pain of growing a heart, and it's eventual breaking? Part of @m3gahet 's Siren AU! A collaborative project between many creators, who will be listed as I include their OCs!

READ ON AO3 HERE!

With a satisfied sigh, the redhead plopped back onto the lumpy mattress, arms crossed behind his head as a large grin curled his lips sideways, his body melting into the bed. Next to him, a girl with tan skin lay panting, her head swimming with dark curls fanned around her, basking in the best orgasm she had received in years.

Hell, maybe in her entire life.

She had certainly never expected this, admittedly, very pretty, drunken pirate to fuck like that when he had propositioned her at the tavern the previous night. Hopefully, he wasn't too drunk already this morning, or his human body too tired, and they could have a-

“Ya want another round?”

“Yes,” she breathed, with a bit too much enthusiasm. His lips curled into a smug grin as she cleared her throat, a cute little flush dusting her cheekbones.

“Heh. Thought ya might.”

With that, he rolled on top of her, the metal of his rings and necklaces cool on her heated skin as smirking lips pressed to hers again and again, fingertips roaming to work her back up. Though, just as his lips met her skin and began to travel south, a thump sounded from above. The couple blinked at each other, brows furrowed, but before the redhead rose to investigate, a cloaked figure swung into the window.

“Fuck!” The pair both shouted, eyes shooting to each other briefly as the redhead rolled off. The girl snatched both her swords from the ground and tossed him one, his cutlass too far out of reach.

“Stay back!” Once more, they spoke in unison, blinking at each other strangely as they drew their blades.

The redhead raised a pierced brow, “Why would I stay back, darlin’?”

He appreciated the thought, really, but it was entirely unnecessary. Especially considering—

“They're here for me,” they stated simultaneously, gazes instantly returning to one another, tones incredulous as they questioned in tandem, “You?”

A lunge from the enemy cut their debate short, the girl parrying to deflect. The redhead assessed his borrowed sword, an unfamiliar design, the weight strange in his hand.

Is only one edge sharpened?

With a well timed, harsh kick to her ribs, the enemy slammed the girl into the wall. With her breath knocked out of her, she landed with a growl that tingled up her partner's spine, the sound low and deep and threatening. As she recuperated, the redhead jumped in, matching blow for blow with the attacker, the steel of their swords clashing. This opponent — likely a bounty hunter — was good, and the redhead found himself struggling to familiarize himself with the new weapon.

Focusing on their swords, he failed to notice the enemy sneak a dagger from a hidden holster. A sharp, stinging pain bloomed, and green eyes shot down to the blade implanted in his abdomen. Stumbling back with gritted teeth, he gladly allowed the now enraged girl to take over, plopping onto the bed with a wince as he observed her swiftly overpower the man with strong, vicious blows, disarming him with another growl. Blood sprayed across her bare skin with a slice to his jugular.

A practiced flick of her sword rid the drops from her steel, and she carelessly stepped over the corpse in favor of rummaging through her bag. Clenching his jaw, the redhead removed the dagger with a grunt and a curse. Both brows raised as the girl returned, kneeling before him with a damp cloth and threaded needle in hand.

“Oh. Uh… thanks, sweetheart, but ya don't hafta-”

“Hush. Just let me do it.”

Nodding, he removed his hand from the wound, wincing as she wiped it clean with a soft, gentle touch. Liquor burned down his throat as he chugged to numb the pain, drinking in the look of concentration on her blood splattered face as she began to sew him up.

Holy hell.

“I don't think anything important was punctured,” Dark eyes flashed up to meet his before returning to her work, her voice factual, yet still soft and calming, “How do you feel? Can you breathe alright?”

“Breathin’ fine,” Green eyes watched her steady hands weave perfect, tight loops, fascinated, “Dat… dat was somethin’, darlin’. You, uh, always fight like dat?”

A mischievous little grin curled her lips, “Yes.”

“Huh. Naht bad. Ow-” he sucked air through his teeth, wincing as the thread tugged a sensitive bit of flesh.

“Sorry. Need something to bite?”

“Nah, ‘m alright.”

Closing his eyes, he focused on breathing, chugging more liquor while cursing his tolerance.

“If you say so.”

Quick work was made, and soon she was tying off the thread before once more digging in her bag. This time, she returned with soft linen to press to the area, wrapping his torso with a bandage to keep pressure in place.

“All done. Lay down for a while.”

Heeding her advice, the redhead reclined, eyes trained to her as she wet a fresh cloth and began to clean blood from her body in the tarnished mirror.

“...where'd ya learn all dat?”

“All what?”

“The fightin’. The stitches.”

Silence overtook the pair. Just when he thought no response would come, she replied, “Fighting, I learned back home. The medical knowledge I've picked up as I've gone.”

“And, uh,” He shouldn't pry — it was never a good idea to pry into a strange pirate's history — but his curiosity regarding her strange swordss spurred his tongue, “Where's home?”

“Far from here.”

That was the best answer he would get.

Fair enough.

“So… ya got a crew?”

“Not at the moment,” Her eyes were trained on the task at hand, the weight of his gaze on her reflection heavy, “Why?”

“Join mine.”

She snorted, and he couldn't help but grin at the cute sound, the silly way her face scrunched.

“What? You a captain or something?”

“First Mate.”

“Yeah?” Her voice was disbelieving, “For who?”

“The Murmaiders.”

Her hand froze, and a smug grin curled his lips as her eyes found his in the mirror, appraising.

“You're Pickles?”

“One n’ only, love.”

“...you're serious?”

“A'couse. Why would I lie, darlin’?”

The Murmaiders were one of the most notorious pirate crews in the Caribbean. And he wanted her to join? Just like that?

“And you want me to join because…?”

“We need a doctor.”

Big, dark eyes blinked at him, and the redhead could practically see her weighing the pros and cons in her mind, “What's the catch?”

“No catch. We… we've had a few close calls with some injuries lately. I'd rather be safe dan sorry, and ya seem to know what yer doin’,” He shrugged, eyes shooting to her bag, “Got all da supplies with ya and everythin’. Plus, yer a hell of a fighter, and we could always use more of dat. Whaddya say? I'll take ya to meet ‘em dis afternoon?”

“Afternoon? Why not this morning?”

“Well, shit, sweetheart… we never got dat second round,” A bent grin shaped his words as she turned back, face flushed, “How ‘boot ya come wet my beard so I can thank ya fer sewin' me up?”

“...only if you insist.”

“Oh, I do, er…” he shimmied down the bed as she approached, wincing as he tweaked his wound, “What was yer name again, darlin’?”

“Olive. Hold still before you hurt yourself,” She swat his chest, stilling his movements, then tugged sharply on the sheet. Wide green eyes stared in mild alarm as she easily yanked the man into a better position, though his surprise melted into desire as she straddled his shoulders, and calloused hands ran over her thighs.

“Heh. Fancy dat, our names match,” His eyes sparkled up at her as she let loose a few soft giggles, hand covering her mouth, “Well, Olive, aye. I insist.”

.

Hours later, the pair headed onto the heated midday streets of Port Royal, stopping at a tailor as Olive retrieved an order. Pickles leaned against the sun-warmed stone of the shop outside with his freckled arms crossed, blue bandana shielding his scalp and red dreads from the harsh rays. Puffing lazily at a cigarette dangling from his lips, he entertained himself by blowing smoke rings and watching the wisps curl and dance on the hot breeze. Finally, footsteps approached, and a pierced brow rose as his gaze raked over her once.

Twice.

…and maybe just once more.

By the time green eyes raised to black, she was smirking, though the flush on her cheeks gave her away. Smirk curling his own lips, he licked them, then spoke, voice teasing, “Pink? Wouldn'ta pegged yah fer the type.”

Shrugging, Olive secured her satchel, then shook her hair back, tying those fluffy curls out of her face with a black bandana across her forehead. Mouth drying at the sight, he averted his eyes as they began their trek to the dock.

“I like pink.”

“Ain't it kinda, yanno… bright? Draws alot’a attention.”

They certainly were drawing attention, Olive turning the heads of passersby both immigrant and native, rich and poor, pirate and law abiding citizen alike as they meandered through the busy, bustling streets, a cacophony of voices filling the air. Vendors of fruit and fish loudly boasted their freshest hauls to reel in customers. Crafters showed off their latest masterpieces to all who would spare a passing glance. Jewelers and weavers tempted women to try on just this one item, it was made for you!

Not that he could blame them for looking. The light pink, puff sleeve top was left undone, showing off low-cut, dark plum lace to match her sleeve cuffs. A plum vest embroidered with gold tucked into a black waist corset, below which was tied a bright golden sash. A deep magenta swooped over her hips and down the backs of her legs, laid atop layers of lace skirts in cherry pink and plum. A slit ran the side for movement's sake, allowing glimpses of her tall black boot and flashes of soft, supple skin in the gap between the black lace covering her thigh.

With a knowing look and a curl of those pretty, plush lips now painted a deep, dark mauve, she teased, “Oh? Is that the reason it's drawing attention? The vibrancy of the shade?”

Barking a laugh, Pickles clapped her on the back, jolting her with the unexpected force, and she shot him a much less attractive look. Grinning, he gently squeezed her shoulder, “Ah, okee. I get it. So dat's why ya bought it. Coulda jest said so, darlin’.”

Snorting, she rolled her eyes.

“No. I bought it because it will show less bloodstains.”

Again, a brow rose in her direction.

“So would black.”

“Yeah, well…” she shrugged off his warm hand, “what, do I look bad?”

“Ya already know da answer t’ dat.”

“You could tell me, anyway.”

Green eyes glanced to her, though her gaze was focused ahead. Grinning mischievously, he shook his head, “Nah, ya don't look bad. Yer as pretty as a flower.”

Another snort, though this time through a smile. That was hardly an original compliment, nothing to get so damn giddy with excitement over, but here she was grinning from ear to ear all the same.

“A flower?”

“Yeah!” His own grin widening, Pickles added, “A real prickly flower, yanno, like a rose or a bramble bush, somethin’ dat'd leave my hand bleedin’ if I tried to reach in too far. But, still a flower.”

Smile fading, Olive chewed the inside of her cheek, silence overtaking them. For a moment Pickles worried he offended her, read her completely wrong, assumed too much.

“Well… better keep your hands out of it then, huh?”

Gaze still on her, he shrugged, “Maybe. Heh. But I've never been one t’ shy away from a lil’ danger if d’ere's treasure I want.”

“Yeah?” Her gaze met his, eyes unreadable, “And what's the reward for a bloody hand and a skinful of thorns?”

A little grin curled his lips, green eyes sparkling at her before shooting forward, evading her question, “We're here.”

With narrowed eyes, Olive followed Pickles’ lead as he guided her down the old, wet boards of the docks to The Murdmaider. Breathing in the comfort of the salty, damp sea air, she took in the Jolly Roger for the first time — a black flag, of course, with a white gear shape, the inside of which created a straight-lipped face. The ship itself was a beautifully crafted sloop, despite the wear and tear on the black and red paint, and appeared as if custom built for privateers with a letter of marque before The Murmaider crew acquired it. The figurehead was imposing — a giant siren dangling the severed head of a man by his hair, sword still raised in her other hand.

Huh. Maybe this is the right crew to join, after all.

As they ascended onto the deck, that thought was sharply derailed.

Oh, god.

It was a complete mess!

Everywhere sat barrels of inventory — much of it booze, if the labels could be believed — and around the deck, amongst the clutter of food and intoxicants, milled crew members in various stages of inebriation, all wearing… black hoods? Interesting. That's one way to maintain anonymity from the law, at least.

And prevent sunburn.

Lord. She really hoped the Captain would allow her to do some organizing. For fuck's sake, the barrels of liquor weren’t even alphabetized! She didn't know if she could live like this.

As she fretted, she ignored the way members of the crew stared, more than accustomed to the strange looks thrown her way as an openly female pirate. There weren't many like her, and even fewer like her who would dare to wear a dress onboard.

Luckily, she was confident in her ability to kick all of their asses — dress or not. Maybe she'd even get the chance to prove it.

Pickles glanced back, curious about her reaction, and grinned at her distressed expression.

“Everythin’ alright?”

“Yes, just…” She pulled a face, nose scrunching in distaste, “...unorganized.”

With a laugh, he shook his head, “C'mahn. Let's introduce ya t’ the Captain.”

This time, he kept pace with her, hand landing on the small of her back as the pair approached a group of men.

“Pickles, you’r- oh,” A behemoth of a man stood before them, dressed in all black, his admiral coat accented in gold. Silky, black hair curtained a severe, intimidating expression.

Next to him, a man of fairly tall build with fluffy, curly hair wearing a black shirt and shorts accented with a red vest and sash belt asked, through a sneer, “Who'sch the broad?”

“Moidaface, ams so rude,” A slightly shorter brunette with shiny, straight hair and big, kind blue eyes corrected his crew mate. He wore an open shirt similar to Pickles, in grey, with a red vest and black waist belt.

“Ja. That ams no way to talks to ones such lovely lady,” A tall, extremely beautiful man with flowing blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and an attractive smile dressed in an open, flowy, white puffed sleeve top and skin tight, light grey pants offered her a wink.

But, no, he's not a man — he’s a fellow siren. As was the brunette who spoke before him.

Huh. Interesting.

She kept her expression neutral, not allowing them the satisfaction of eliciting a reaction from her.

“Nate’n, dis is Olive,” Pickles gestured to the tall, imposing figure, “Olive, dis is our Captain, Nate'n Explosion.”

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“Uh. Yeah. You, too,” His gaze cut to Pickles, “Uh, Pickles. We've been over this. You can't just bring women on boa-”

“Nah, it's different. I asked ‘er to join.”

The Captain's green eyes got wide, shooting between the pair, “You what?”

“Yeh. She's our new doctor.”

Expression softening, his gaze stuck to her with renewed interest, “You're a doctor?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Are you, uh, any good?”

With a grin, Pickles shifted his shirt, showing off his bandages, “Good enough t’ kill da fucker who stabbed me, den sew me up.”

“Whoah. Yeah, in that case, uh…” the Captain stuck out his massive hand, Olive placing her tiny one in his to shake. “Thanks. You know, for saving my First Mate. Welcome aboard, uh…”

“Olive.”

“Olive. Right. You, uh, got a last name?”

With a smile, she dropped the bomb, “Axworthy.”

Five pairs of eyes widened comically, silence overtaking them. And then-

“As in, ‘Widow of the Waters’ Olive Axworthy!?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, wowee!”

“Pfft. I don't believe it. Where'sch your proof?” the prickly brunette asked, staring her down.

Maintaining his stare with the same little smile, she tugged a necklace from her top, his gaze immediately drawn to her cleavage. Blushing, he swallowed, eyes instead bugging as she withdrew a chain strung with at least a dozen engagement rings.

“S-scho? Could've gotten thosche anywhere.”

“Fine,” With a shrug, she dug in her bag for a moment, retrieving a piece of rolled parchment. Untying it, the paper unfurled to reveal her very own wanted poster. Holding it to her face for comparison, she asked, “Believe me now?”

“Whoah… huh. Well, uh, she got you there, Murderface,” The Captain barely held back his amusement, his words shaped by a soft laugh, “Pickles, show her around!”

.

The air was crisp, the breeze salty in her lungs as Olive inhaled a deep breath, eyes slipping closed briefly, a longing for the water tugging from the center of her chest. The sun was dipping low, orange rays casting long shadows that reached with outstretched hands, desperate to consume every inch of light they touched, swallowing up every tender molecule that crossed their path.

Never satisfied.

Never satiated.

Always wanting more more more.

Ah, but perhaps she was projecting a bit.

Lips painted a deep mauve curled into a small grin at the thought, only widened further at the sound of footsteps thunking against the creaking boards of the deck. Turning from the view of Port Royal and the scene of consumption and loss, of those greedy shadows and their hands that never ceased, cursed to never grasp what they truly sought, dark eyes were momentarily blinded.

Blinking as her vision adjusted, she took in the man before her, backlit by the setting sun. Pickles was cast into shadow himself, though enough light remained to see that crooked grin and his sparkling eyes. He offered her a tankard filled to the brim with rum, lifting up his own and waiting expectantly.

Furrowing her brows, Olive tilted her head, confused, “What are we toasting to?”

Lips pulling back to show his teeth, Pickles only grinned bigger.

“To our newest crew mate, a'course!”

It took her a moment, but then Olive graced him with a small, coy smile in return, and clinked her tankard with his.

“To your new crew mate!”

Both tipped their tankards back for a long gulp, those pretty green eyes staring her down. Raising a brow, she asked, “Need something?”

“Were ya gonna tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“Yanno. Dat yer a siren.”

The accusation froze her, and she fell dead quiet.

“Hey, now, don't do dat. Skwisgaar and Toki both are, too. I know ya noticed.”

Breath returning to her lungs, Olive allowed herself to relax once more, “So you… know about them, too?”

“Yeh.”

“Ah,” with a sigh, she averted her eyes, “It's… not something I can just tell people. Please don't take offense.”

Pickles raised his hand in a placating gesture.

“None taken, darlin’. So, den… what aboot dat other thing?”

“What other thing?”

“Yanno. Ya bein’ da Widow of da Waters.”

Shrugging, she glanced away once more.

“I did tell yo-”

“Yeah, in front a’ everyone else.”

“What, embarrassed?”

“Nah, jest…” he shifted, downing another gulp of rum before continuing, “Were ya gonna, yanno…”

“Was I going to make you my next husband? No. I work fast. If I wanted to marry you, I already would have.”

A pierced brow rose in disbelief.

“Aye? Awful confident, ain't ya?”

Another shrug, this time with a grin, “I have reason to be.”

“Yeh?” His boots thunked loudly as he stepped closer, shadow overtaking her as he loomed over, close enough for her to smell the liquor on his breath. Green eyes burned into hers before moving down, her breath catching as fingertips trailed the exposed skin of her decolletage. With a crooked grin, he tugged at the chain, withdrawing it from her cleavage, and began to count aloud the number of rings from her prior husbands as he inspected each, mentally critiquing the stones and craftsmanship. Some were impressive enough, but...

If he gave her a ring, Pickles would do better than these.

“...thirteen. Heh. Well, damn,” he dropped the necklace, allowing it to bounce back to her chest with a clink of metal and stones, his fingers instead trailing up the column of her throat to tilt her chin, “Guess ya do got reason t’ be confident, huh?”

Those green eyes glowed as if lit from within by a flaming inferno, and Olive found herself drowning in their molten sea. Locating her voice, she managed to ask, “Aren't relationships like this between First Mate and crew normally frowned upon?”

“Yeh, usually. Luckily... I know da captain,” Pickles gave her a wink that left her melting despite herself. The feeling only doubled with his next words, spoken barely above a whisper as his thumb traced her soft bottom lip, “Ya can tell me t’ stop, if ya want. It's okee t’ say no.”

Fully melting, now, dark eyes flit down to his lips, then back to those smoldering eyes. And, with a breathy “Don't stop,” Olive sealed both of their fates.

Thank you so much for reading! I'm super excited for this AU, and have SO much lore planned, y'all don't even know. Much of which will tie back in to Olive's main story, Momento Mori, which you should read if you haven't, though it isn't necessary for this fic! Next time, the crew makes a stop at Serpent's Roost to procure some special supplies, and we meet @sichore 's oc Jimi! Please drop a like and comment to let me know what you think!

#art of pirate Olive is coming VERY soon! #mtl siren au #olive axworthy #pickles the drummer #skwisgaar skwigelf #toki wartooth #nathan explosion #william murderface #relish #metalocalypse #metalocalypse oc #mtl oc

[softquietsteadylove]

For the bodyguard AU:

A crazy Fan attacks Thena with a knife on stage. Luckily Gil is there to protect her👀

The crowd was roaring with enthusiasm for her performance. She was coming off the high of a few straight shows that had gone well. The audience was feeling excited, and it had even spread to Thena, penetrating her pessimistic shell.

Thena waved to them as they applauded her efforts. She swallowed, feeling the fatigue in her vocal cords after the full set she had performed. Nothing like a full concert, but evident none the less. She backed up from the microphone.

"Athena! Athena, you're my goddess!"

Gil looked out from backstage, trying to find where the voice had come from.

Thena also scanned the crowd, but couldn't find anyone who might have been able to be heard so above and beyond everyone else. She tried not to let it show on her face.

"Athena, I love you!"

She looked closer to the front, wondering who possessed that voice. It was male, deep, rough. Everyone close to the barricades seemed to be younger fans jumping and waving.

"Athena, be mine!"

Her chest rose and fell more quickly. This was becoming more of a situation by the second, but she couldn't pinpoint the source. She took a few more steps back, her hand subconsciously reaching behind her for a comforting presence.

Gil emerged from backstage to meet her halfway. Usually his code of conduct - per the label's insistence - was to be present but not seen. But this was an exception, "come on."

"I said you're mine, you bitch!"

Gil pulled Thena behind him, holding out his arms and making his surface area replace Thena's tiny frame behind him. He searched the crowd for himself, with eyes trained to detect problems like this.

Security dove for the man, but he must have had training in something. Because all they did was provide him with a staircase of bodies he could use to launch himself onto the stage.

"Athena!"

Gil's eyes focused in on the knife in his hand. There were worse weapons to face, but the best one to disarm was none. He held out his hand, "put it down!"

The assailant charged at them, fuelled by either delusion or a more powerful, more tangible substance. He came in swinging, "she's mine!"

Thena curled up behind Gil, not able to do much else in the given situation.

Gil moved only as close as needed to grab the assailant's hands by the wrists. So long as he could overpower him, he could keep the threat minimal. "Don't even think about it!"

Gil was stronger than the freak jumping impossible distances up onto the stage. He raised their hands above their heads, not leaving much room to get stabbed in the crosshairs. "Let it go!"

Bodies in yellow and black polo shirts came rushing out; better late than never, at least. The venue security rushed the assailant, enough of them piling on the threat that it didn't matter what was in his system, he went down hard.

The knife clattered away across the stage. The crowd screamed.

Gil didn't wait to see what would become of the animal, or deliver any last words. He turned around, pulling Thena into his arms and rushing her off stage, "come on."

Thena clung to him.

"Move, move, out of the way!" Gil barked at anyone who so much as came near them. This was his job, this was his protectee, his client: this was Thena. "Make some room!"

He led them straight through the backstage and out of the building. He wasn't making any stops in any dressing rooms, Kingo would bring them anything they had left behind. His priority now was getting Thena alone and safe with him.

She followed him silently, clinging to him.

Gil held his jacket up and in front of her face as they made their way to the car waiting for them. As always, no matter how they tried, there were still fans clambering to get a glimpse of the Goddess of War in her human form. "Back up!"

Thena climbed into the SUV, immediately sliding over in the backseat so Gil could slide in after her, no need to go around to the other door. He jumped in, nearly cracking his head on the frame in his haste. He slammed it closed and leaned forward, "drive!"

The ride service didn't ask questions.

Gil put the divider up immediately, looking over at Thena, "hey."

"I'm okay," she exhaled, with only some trembling in it. She pushed her hair out of her face.

"Thena," he repeated, moving until their legs were squished together on the hard and uncomfortable leather seats. "Look at me."

"I'm okay, she repeated before he held her cheeks, guiding her gently to meet his eyes. Her face crumbled.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, pulling her into his shoulder as he rubbed her back. No matter how expected or calculated a risk it was, it was still someone threatening her safety and life. He never blamed her for feeling rattled by the actions of those obsessed with her persona.

Thena shook her head against him, still pressing her eyes into his suit jacket. She was dismissing herself.

"Hey, no one would blame you," he said gently, holding the trembling songstress. "He came at you with a knife, Thena. It never should have happened."

She let out a breath, even more shuddery than the last. "You shouldn't have to keep doing this."

Protecting her? "Thena, it's my job to do this. I'm certainly not gonna let you fight these creeps by yourself."

"I mean it!" she lifted her head, pursing her lips in that stubborn way she had.

He brushed away some of her tears, careful of the eye makeup she had on that was admirably still in place. "I do too, Thena. I'm not going to let anyone get away with shit like that."

Thena pulled back, brushing more of her tears off his lapel and clearing her throat, which any vocalist usually did their best to avoid doing. She sniffled, "this seems to keep happening."

Gil let her fuss over him, if it made her feel better about it, "a couple times in a year is a pretty bad streak."

Thena looked at him in the dim light of the back of the limo. "I know you're saying it's not a big deal, but I've watched you had to fight a few too many psychos for my liking. And I still haven't forgotten when that mob of Eros' little fan-children mobbed you."

Gil chuckled, "that was a pretty bizarre fight to have."

"I wouldn't call it a fight," Thena grumbled but sat back again with a sigh. She flicked some hair over her shoulder, "at least the show was good. Although I'm sure Kingo is already bursting a blood vessel over the coverage of that attack."

"It was pretty open to see that the guy was nuts," Gil shrugged, already reaching into his suit jacket for both their phones. "Limo's taking us straight home. Do you want delivery?"

She looked up from her phone as he handed it to her, giving him the saddest, greenest eyes, like a kitten in the rain. She nodded.

How could he ever say no to that? He opened the app, "mood?"

"Surprise me," she sighed, looking down at her phone to check what Kingo was saying.

"Okay," Gil chuckled, already knowing to order her a comforting bowl of ramen with some dumplings on the side. He claimed one of her hands with his, even though it hindered her texting greatly.

She did visibly have trouble texting Kingo back with only her left thumb and a phone wider than her slim hand's width. But she gave him a squeeze back, grateful for the comfort.

#Thenamesh Bodyguard AU #it always feels nice to revisit these #because I never feel out of practice with these two #hopefully they always feel in character in this universe for you guys #Gil really does have a lot to deal with #but he's made for this #this is the job #and he takes it very seriously #Kingo does text them like wtf was that? #Gil tells him to look it up he's sure all the fans caught footage of it #also please bring Thena's stuff to her place for them #he's not leaving her side because obviously #They're both exhausted from the adrenaline #she walked into the building in costume and everything #door guy is like hey Thena hey Gil normal thursday night huh? #Gil does get delivery and basically feeds her all night #runs her a back #rubs her feet for her #the ultimate malewife #but he's your security guard #what is this booktok? #just kidding I don't read books I write this instead

[stoutlandchild]

Some more Bede Hattrem for the PMD AU because I wanted to draw him.

He's so fun to draw because he's just, so so grumpy.

AU Notes:

I mentioned before that Bede actually doesn't remember much, he rememebers some things, like Opal, Rose and his Pokemon but not much else. So we have Bede who still thinks The Chairman isn't horrible! He doesn't remember why he's apprenticing under Opal but he thinks it's because The Chairman saw that he would flourish under her or something.

Bede does get Nightmares about The Chairman, he doesn't know why at first but then he slowly gains more memories and, well, you know.

N, since he has all his memory and learned about the Darkest Day before the story has pieced the story together and is trying to figure out how to handle the situation.

At the start of the story his Moveset is: Psybeam, Disarming Voice, Brutal Swing and Heal Pulse.

Due to reasons after the main story and Bede sees Opal again he still has his fairy/psychic powers and when Opal finds out it gets incorporated into his fairy bootcamp training

Bede does Evolve! But only after he gets all his memories back.

I have other stuff but it's more relevant to him and N as a team so I won't put them here.

#pkmn #pkmn swsh #pkmn bw #pkmn n #pkmn bede #pokemon bede #gym leader bede #rival bede #natural harmonia gropius #pokemon n #pmd au #pkmn au #pokemon #dimension therapy au #pmd #pokemon mystery dungeon

[rumbelleshowdown]

-

Author: Rose Daughter

Prompts: Sleeping curse. Playful banter. Different fairytale AU.

Group: Final

-

Pages of Reverie

Belle knows she’s asleep.

Her head has become a fuzzy place, coherent thought eluding her at all junctures. It’s an odd, unpleasant feeling; trying to remember how to remember. She can seize tiny shreds of memory, if she concentrates.

It all began with a tome, she knows this as well. It was slotted between a bookshelf and the library wall, discarded and forgotten. Inexplicably, there wasn’t a speck of dust on its surface, pristine as though it had been bound only yesterday. There were peculiar symbols etched into the cover with swooping flourishes of gold, the corners of its pages curling up like beckoning fingers.

She’d had an hour to spare before she needed to busy herself with Rumplestiltskin’s tea. What was the harm in one quick look? The moment this thought cemented itself, both she and the book hit the floor.

And that is when the fog had swept in, cloaking first her body and then her mind. It’s as though the Dark Castle has been the dream all along, and this new room materializing beneath her feet is the reality that always has been and always will be.

There’s an orchestra playing a graceful waltz, made indiscernible by the chatter of a crowd. Above the grand staircase hangs an ornate clock, framed by brass filigree. Belle doesn’t know why, but it is imperative that she flees before the stroke of midnight.

The face of her partner shifts into focus. She hadn’t even realized she’d been dancing.

It is a handsome face. Maddeningly familiar. Warm, amber-flecked brown eyes. Silken waves of graying hair. His features are lined with decades of laughs and scowls. He disarms her so severely, she trods hard on his foot. His lips split into a grin.

“Forgotten the steps already, dearie?” The prince asks in a rich brogue. “That’s quite alright. I’ll show you again. Now, it’s two steps backwards, one to the right, and then–”

He steers her across the floor smoothly, imitating the gliding hands of the clock. Each step she takes sounds like a teacup settling into a saucer. She notices, awed, that her slippers are made of glass.

But the tinkling of her steps is soon drowned out by a chime that reverberates throughout the entire chamber. Midnight. The prince gives her a forlorn, but understanding smile. His mouth ghosts over hers in a chaste, farewell peck as that same thick mist floods the ballroom.

Before her eyes, the dancing couples congeal into the trunks of gnarled oak trees, the chirp of the violins giving way to birdsong.

By the time the mist clears, her glass slippers have turned into boots of supple leather, mottled with the mud of the mossy, overgrown trail. As she treads along, the wind toys with her red cloak, making its hem flutter like the wings of a cardinal.

“Lost, are you?”

The voice comes from the thicket of trees. A man. At least, she thinks it’s a man. His canines are too long, his eyes wild and blazing, the whiskers along his jaw looking razor-sharp. When he tilts his head a certain way, Belle swears she can see two wolfish ears pricking from the top of his head.

“I’m…I’m going…” Her words taper off. She doesn’t have the slightest idea where she’s going.

He bucks his chin into the air as if to catch a whiff of her scent on the breeze.

“Wander off the path and you may get eaten, little darling.” One corner of the man’s mouth pulls up towards the high slant of his cheekbone. “Stay on the path and…well, the most ravenous of beasts may still try to steal a bite.”

He flashes through the brush and onto the trail, upon her in a single blink. He noses at the hood of her cloak, inhaling softly. His hands caress her body as though he were sculpting it from clay; forming first the curve of her hips and then her waist, before resting at the small of her back.

“I’m sorry you’re lost, poppet,” he burrs, creasing his brow in mock sympathy. “I’ll help you find your way out of these woods, if you’d like. I only ask that you let a starving old wolf take a small bite. Let him have just a taste. So he does not grow too hungry on the journey.”

His hands voyage upward now, easing her hood down and gathering her hair in his fists. His nails feel like claws against her scalp. The wolf ducks his head and kisses her. He kisses her like he means to devour her, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips until she allows him entry with a faint whimper.

She feels molten at her very core, and she is only vaguely aware of the world forging into something new.

Her hair is no longer being tugged on, but there is still an unusual weight to it. There doesn’t seem to be an end to it, in fact. It cascades down her back and past her hips, and knees, and ankles. It’s so long, she’s standing on it.

The forest has solidified into limestone walls, a rounded tower filled with lavish furniture rather than lush greenery. Her hair, interwoven with delicate ribbons and blossoms, spills over the window ledge like autumnal leaves from an aspen tree.

There is an insistent yank on the braid, but no pain reaches the crown of her head. And the prince, the wolf – no, a knight heaves himself over the ledge, landing on bended knee on the cobbled floor. He looks up at her, his shaggy, silver-streaked hair backlit by the mid-morning sun.

His breath comes in staccato pants. “My kingdom for a seventy-foot ladder.”

It is mere moments before he is kissing her knuckles, and then her jaw, and finally her parted lips.

And so it goes; the dreams twisting into new and magnificent shapes. The limestone tower becomes one of dark sandstone, massive straw bales piled high from floor to ceiling. The spinner sits at a wheel, feeding long stalks of straw through his nimble fingers. She watches as he works the straw into a fine golden thread that writhes and dances in the dim candlelight. The rickety wooden stool wails in protest when she melts into the spinner’s lap, seeking a forefront view of this artistry. She, however, shows no resistance when his lips find her neck, his teeth grazing her pulse point.

And as her restraint crumbles away, the tower walls go with it, opening up to a sprawling meadow, overwhelmed by wildflowers. There is a long table dressed in embroidered white linen and bestrewn with mismatched crockery. At the head of the table sits the imp, looking especially eccentric in his emerald brocade and jauntily-tipped hat. She scarcely has time to spoon the sugar into her tea before his mouth is ravishing hers.

The dreams loop and shuffle. The chime of midnight, the raking of claws, the weight of her elongated tresses, the kisses that grow more desperate with every revisit. Belle finds herself being pawed at by the wolf, and then tangled in the spinner’s golden thread, and then whirling across the ballroom in the arms of the prince. These realms reprise and overlap until they bleed into one all-consuming euphoric crescendo.

And then it ends.

It’s as jarring as being thrown from a horse. Belle wakes with a violent cough, retching on the remnants of some bitter fluid. There is no pair of lips pressed to hers, but instead the rim of a glass vial. She blinks. The real world looks strange now, far too permanent. Stranger still is the face hovering just above hers.

Rumplestiltskin.

He looks like he might be biting back a laugh. He tuts at her, one brow quirked.

“Now, what trouble have you gotten into this time?”

Belle cannot answer. What was a disorienting blur to her sleeping mind is now striking in its clarity. These princes, and wolves, and knights. The same face, the same honeyed brogue, the same crooked smile. Who they were all along.

“Your eyes are still glazed over, dearie.” He taps one charcoal-black nail against the bulb of the vial. “Am I going to have to pour another one of these down your throat? I hope not. They’re a terrible nuisance to brew.”

“W-what happened?” She sits up with some effort. Rumple had, at some point, moved her from the floor to the settee.

“It would seem curiosity has once again killed the cat. Immobilized the cat, at the very least.”

The accursed book lies splayed open at his feet, and he prods it with the toe of his boot.

“What even is it?” she asks.

“Not a what, but a whom. It’s a….creature of sorts.”

“Not like any creature I’ve ever seen.”

Rumple gives a derisive scoff. “I’d have thought such a well-read girl would be more receptive to the…unconventional.”

He continues, “There are as many diverse souls in this world as there are grains of sand on a beach. Some feed on magic, some on memories. The nastiest sort gorge themselves on misery and fear. In my time, I’ve even come across an infuriating little beast that seems to subsist on nothing but raspberry cakes and tea.” Rumplestiltskin's mouth curves into a teasing, lopsided smirk. “But this insidious thing…feeds on desire.”

He twitches his fingers and the book is consumed by a plume of lilac smoke.

“When it senses its reader is unfulfilled – that they desperately hunger for something – it latches on and induces a deep sleep. Therein lies your greatest desire. It weaves dreams that appeal so singularly to the yearning of your heart that you’ll never be able to wake yourself. Then it simply feeds on you until you wither away,” he explains. “You’re lucky I can brew a potion that counters all manner of sleeping curses.”

Belle has heard very little after ‘greatest desire’. The two words resonate between her ears with a sense of stunned comprehension.

Rumple giggles, mischief personified. “How frightfully quiet you are! With the cat’s curiosity unsated, did it settle for your tongue? Perhaps I should have left you to your beauty sleep after all.”

“It was hardly beauty sleep,” she mutters, trying to dispel thoughts of his elegant fingers in her hair and his teeth nipping at her throat.

“Is that so? I imagine your pretty little head was awash with grand libraries, rose gardens, and wardrobes of satin gowns.”

“You’re being awfully presumptuous.”

“As are you. The foolish desires of mortals are my bread and butter. Do you really think that your mind is any more of a labyrinth than the rest? My, my. Presumptuous and conceited.” He shakes his head with a theatrical reproof. “So tell me, poppet, am I right? Was it libraries and roses and all that frivolous nonsense?”

“….yes, that’s exactly what it was.”

“Ah!” He clasps his hands together. “You make it too easy, silly girl. I could conjure all of that with a flick of my fingers, you know.”

“Yes, I’m quite sure you could give me all of my desires.”

Something in her tone makes his facade flicker. The words are too charged to be outright dismissed as banter. His expression is boyish in its bewilderment. But he recovers quickly, as always, shooing her away with a feigned sneer.

“If you don’t trot yourself down to the kitchens and fix my tea, the only thing I’ll be giving you is an extended holiday in the dungeons. A thirsty man is not a generous one.”

Belle does not immediately turn to go. She pauses, ruminating on Rumplestiltskin – the prince, the wolf, the knight, the spinner, the imp, the man.

As she lingers, his eyes do not stray from her. His face, a terrible fright to many, is so soft in its exhausted, amused affection.

Belle smiles to herself.

The living realm is truly none too different from that of her dreams. And she’s seen how those end. 

-

#rumbelle showdown #final round #author: Rose Daughter

[crippledgoddess]

i was a hardcore marylily truther then i read ur fics and now pandalily is all i can read so if anyone can do this it’s u

the moment i lay my eyes on ur serial killer bartylus au is the moment i’ll probably go from jegulus+rosekiller>bartylus to bartylus>jegulus+rosekiller. i was almost there with meddle about. it was divine

(this is me asking for a snippet bc i saw we’re allowed to)

That’s because pandalily fics are on another level, it’s not me it’s them. They’re either toxic girlfriends or cannibalistic girlfriends or murder girlfriends in every universe and that's beautiful. No other wlw ship compares, welcome to the light

Dudeee you’re allowed to ask for whatever as long as you’re not rude lmfao, that’s the only rule here

I’ll give you a long one since I’m taking for fucking ever to post anything and I appreciate the patience

“You want to touch me,” Barty said in the middle of a session one day, leaning forward as far as his handcuffs would let him, the corner of his mouth curling up.

His stare was invasive, that disarming gaze hardening as if he was dissecting Regulus. A splash of fear coated Regulus’ body as he cleared his throat and looked down at the clipboard.

“That would be highly inappropriate.”

“But you still want to,” Barty muttered, low and hoarse. The corner of his mouth tipped up again. “And I want you to.” He was being manipulated. He was being totally and completely manipulated and he couldn’t care less, especially not after Barty finished with; “I want to fuck you with my knife to your throat until you admit it.”

Regulus licked his lips, his mouth too dry to speak. He’d work out his issues later, he promised himself. He’d work them out real fucking good when thoughts of warm hands, hard kisses, and rough, brutal, life-affirming sex with his serial killer patient weren’t clouding his mind.

“This session has officially gone off topic, and so it is over.” Regulus snapped the file shut and rose from his seat. He stared Barty down. “Keep talking like that and I’ll make you fail my examination. I’m all you have left, remember that. If you fail, they’ll put you on death’s row.”

Barty hardly reacted, save for a cruel smile slanting on his mouth. “You’re temping me again, Dr Black.”

The patient was supposed to be the one breaking, not the psychiatrist.

Regulus lasted two more weeks until he broke.

#selene is oversharing

[starlit-hopes-and-dreams]

Chapter 10 ~ Nothing left to hide

Hidden Depths AU

Previous ~ Masterlist ~ Hidden Depths Masterlist

Genre: Fantasy whump

CWs: lady whump, knife to throat, human remains (bones in a box, brief glimpse :D), blood, life-threatening injury, exceptionally brief reference to past noncon, very awkward conversation regarding relationships, like soo fucking awkward

WC: 3904

Taglist: @kixngiggles @dont-touch-my-soup

A/N: This is the end of the AU! Thank you for following along with my crazy 25k-long 'what if' scenario :') I love you all! <3

Stay tuned for Hidden Depths Arc 2.

Resh     

Resh stood so fast the table jerked forward. Oh gods, where had Carr come from? How… how much of their conversation had she heard? 

Fortunately, she pulled Nykim back before her knife completed its threatened action. Nykim landed on the stool, where he sat quite still. 

“Don’t play games with me, Carr.” 

Resh shivered at the silky darkness in his tone, the fierce gleam in eyes more gray than blue.

“I don’t play games, Nykim,” Carr snapped, digging the blade in a little more. “That’s your thing, isn’t it.” 

She glanced at Resh. “Turn up the lamp.” 

“Carr, I don’t think this is what you think it is. It may have started that way, but…” 

He trailed off as the wick flared, illuminating the rest of the room. 

On his left was a set-up similar to Mieste’s workroom, with cabinets holding vials and jars full of various herbs and remedies. On his right…

A gleaming assortment of weapons and scary-looking tools hung on the wall and adorned the long, low table beneath them. A chair with leather and iron restraints sat in the back corner. Fibrous tendrils descended from the ceiling around it, pale and writhing of their own accord. Resh shivered and turned around. 

The back of the room wasn’t any better. Chains hung over what appeared to be a pit, not that he wanted to go any closer to check. He jerked away from that only to have his attention caught by something rather strange–a large glass box sitting on another table. It didn’t seem to fit the room’s… theme. He tilted his head, wondering what on Valysii it was for. Gods, Resh couldn’t even imagine the expense of that thing. It had to be as big as a person–

What he had initially supposed was some kind of inky liquid moved, exposing patches of pale white. He squinted, trying to make out what it was. 

A larger mass of darkness split away, revealing the curve of a… skull? Fucking shit. Hoping he was wrong, his gaze traveled down the box. Goosebumps rose when he spotted a finger bone, the lip of a pelvic bone, a segment of the bones in the lower leg. A faint chitinous hum filled the room that he only now recognized. Insects. Those were insects in that box, not a liquid. 

Oh gods. He wasn’t wrong, not at all. Resh swallowed against the bile rising in his throat before he spun around. Nothing could have prepared him for the implied purpose of this chamber. One he’d been sitting in for hours, with no idea… 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Carr said to him before turning on the thief master. “The fuck, Nykim? I thought I made it clear Resh was off-limits. Why?” 

The faint hint of betrayal in her voice shocked Resh. And she’d vouched for him? He searched her features, but they were difficult to read, as usual. What wasn’t difficult to see was how little fucking color was in her cheeks. 

“This is my house, my pack, in case you’ve forgotten,” Nykim growled. 

Resh inched around the table. Nykim sounded pissed. 

Carr growled right back. “You don’t usually ignore a beta’s opinions or requests, though, do you? It’s ‘cuz I’m a girl, isn’t it?” When he didn’t answer right away, she yanked on his braid. “Isn’t it!” 

Nykim winced when the dagger dug in a little deeper. “Damnit, Carrah. I’ve always known.” 

Her face blanched entirely at that. Resh lurched forward, afraid she would pass out, but Nykim acted before he could get there. 

In the same move he used to knock Carr’s arm away, Nykim disarmed her and shoved off the stool. Carr stumbled back, eyes wide and fixed on the dagger now pointed at her. 

“I did it to fucking protect you!” Nykim shouted, splotches of red forming over his cheeks. He advanced on Carr, who looked like she was barely managing to stand. 

Fuck. Resh’s heart pounded as his eyes flicked between them. Should he say something? Or would that make everything worse? 

He couldn’t keep quiet while they looked like they wanted to kill each other, though. “I don’t think–”   

Carr launched herself at Nykim, nearly knocking the blade from his hand. He kept ahold of it, though, and forced her back. Beads of sweat shimmered on her forehead.

“Protect me… from what!” Carr’s chest heaved, her stamina nowhere near where it should be. 

And why would it be, after she’d nearly fucking died the night before! Godsdamnit, Resh needed to find a way to stop this.  

Nykim smirked. “Already out of breath. Carrah, what have I told you about conserving your energy?” 

She visibly flinched at the name, but Resh thought it suited her. Whatever the reason for her reaction, it didn’t stop her from circling Nykim, looking for openings, he assumed. 

“Won’t… allow you… to. Kill him,” Carr panted. 

“What? I’m not–” Nykim dropped his guard for a split second, and that was all Carr needed. 

She darted in, landing a kick to the side of Nykim’s knee. He dropped to the ground with a pained grunt. 

The hand he used to catch himself was the one holding the weapon. Carr stomped on his fingers when his grip loosened and tried to kick the blade away. But Nykim grabbed her ankle, pulling her down with him. 

They started grappling for the knife. 

“Both of you, stop!” Resh said, stepping forward.  

Carr was hurting herself, Nykim was trying not to die–and they didn’t listen to him, because who ever listened to him? 

Frustration built inside his chest, a pressure with no valve for release. Resh clenched his fist. It wasn’t like jumping in and physically separating them would work. That seemed like an excellent way to die.

Shoving Carr aside, Nykim wrapped his fingers around the hilt. Before he could so much as lift the blade, Carr returned, digging her fingers into his forearm. Resh saw the spasm that went through his hand, but Nykim maintained control. He grasped the back of Carr’s jacket, trying to drag her off of him.  

Plumes of dust from the dirt floor rose in the air around them while they scuffled. An elbow to the gut had Nykim releasing her with a wheezing grunt. She wrenched his wrist back, trying to break his grip. The angle of the dagger had Resh breaking out in a cold sweat. 

“Fucking shit, someone’s gonna get stabbed. Knock it off!” Resh roared. His fear triggered his magic, and he acted without thought. Purple light flared, and then the knife was in his hand. A dull ache took up residence in his head, his magic use reigniting the reaction headache he hadn’t fully recovered from yet. 

It took a moment for them to realize the blade was gone. Then Carr disengaged, flopping over on her back to press a hand to her side. Her labored breathing was clearly audible in the suddenly quiet room. 

Nykim sat up, staring at the blade, then at Resh with narrowed eyes. “Reaper’s pits, boy, why didn’t you just tell me you were a mage?” 

Resh gave a strangled laugh as the purple glow highlighting Nykim’s features slowly faded away. “I didn’t think it would matter.” 

The disbelief on the thief master’s face would’ve been humorous if not for the concerning way Carr started gasping for breath behind him. Resh threw the knife on the table, where it bounced off Nykim’s blade with a loud clang, and rushed to her side. 

“Where does it hurt?” he asked, brushing a stray chunk of hair from her brow.

She stared up at him through pain-glazed eyes. “Did you… heal me? Before? Missing wounds. I think.” 

Resh shook his head. There was no point keeping Nykim’s secret when the man was kneeling on her other side, eyes glowing green while he did whatever Healers do.

“Oh,” she said, and her eyes fluttered closed. 

Her elbow knocked into Resh’s thigh. He automatically shifted to give her more space, glancing down to ensure he’d moved enough. His gaze caught on the way she held her hand over her right side. Her fingers twitched, something dark and shiny coating them. Fresh blood. Shit. He snapped his head up, looking to Nykim for reassurance. 

“I may have missed something.” Nykim began unbuttoning the bottom of her jacket, his expression grim. “Or the exertion could’ve torn something. I only partially healed some of those wounds.”  

That was not reassuring in the slightest. 

Carr released a breathless moan of protest when Nykim moved on to the next button. The motion she used to bat him away was weak, but Nykim didn’t try to push. He pulled back immediately. 

“Hey, it’s alright,” Resh said softly, reaching for her. Gods, her fingers were freezing. “Nykim needs to see to heal you. Will you let him?” 

Her eyes cracked open, and the pitiful look she gave him pierced his heart. His hand ached from the force of her grip. 

Resh looked at Nykim and shook his head. “Is there another way?” 

“I can probably get by with skin-to-skin contact,” Nykim said, his voice gentle. “Can I place my hand over yours? The one on your side?”

The barest of nods was her only answer. She kept her death grip on Resh while Nykim worked. 

Resh monitored her every breath, barely breathing himself until her stuttered gasps for air eased into a more regular rhythm. Nykim didn’t move, though, still bowed over her body, his large hand completely covering hers.    

“Resh?”

Carr’s voice startled him, and Resh realized he’d lost himself, searching through the hidden depths behind her hazel eyes. Heat crept up the back of his neck. “Oh, um. Yes?” 

A ghost of a smile crossed her face. “Did… did Nykim. Hurt you?”

“He didn’t,” Resh said. He stroked his thumb over her fingers when her brow creased. “I thought he was going to kill me, but all he did was ask a bunch of questions. Maybe he would’ve if I hadn’t passed whatever test he was giving me. At least, I think I passed it? Kinda hard to tell since you put a knife to his throat.” 

“Looked like–” She winced. Swallowed. “Like he was about. To stab you.” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t be talking right now,” Resh said, concerned about her continued shortness of breath. He studied her for a moment, watching the rise and fall of her chest, before looking at Nykim again. The green light behind his half-lidded eyes still bathed Carr’s abdomen. 

“I’m… fine.” 

Resh turned back to her. “It’s okay to not be fine, Carr. Or would you prefer Carrah?” 

She shook her head. 

“Okay,” he said, squeezing her hand. “You’ve been through a lot. Almost died. You should’ve been in bed, resting, not down here fighting with Nykim. As long as he’s taking, you can likely add another ‘almost died’ to the tally.” 

“Almost done,” Nykim interjected. 

Thank the gods. One of the knots in his chest loosened, just a bit. “So don’t tell me you’re fine. Please. It’s obvious you aren’t.” 

Her gaze shifted away at that, looking somewhere over his shoulder. Resh sighed; he probably shouldn’t have said that last part. 

While he was searching for something else to say, Nykim straightened, releasing a weary sigh. The light in his eyes slowly faded, leaving him looking about as exhausted as Carr. 

“I healed as much as I could,” Nykim said, running a hand over his face. “Listen to me, Carr.” 

She blinked and turned her head without meeting Resh’s eyes again. Heart sinking, he loosened his grip on her hand, prepared for her to pull away. She didn’t. 

“There’s not much time,” Nykim continued. “Someone will find the prince sooner rather than later. We have to get you out of the city before they close the gates.” 

Since Resh was watching her instead of Nykim, he caught the way her gaze sharpened. 

“Even before you ripped open that wound and tried to bleed out into your abdomen, you wouldn’t have had the strength to get out on your own. Someone would’ve needed to accompany you.” 

The set of Carr’s jaw showed she disagreed with that assessment. 

Of course she would. Resh almost snorted. Hadn’t Nykim just been telling him how stupid he was for assuming Carr would need help? 

Nykim shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “Stubborn to the fucking core. Look, Resh here is in the same trouble as you. Plus, an… added complication. I needed to know if I could send him with you or if I needed to kill him. You can glare at me all you want, but that’s how things work in this life, and you know it.”   

At that, Carr wrenched her hand away and struggled to sit up. Although Resh hovered, it turned out she didn’t need his help. Another knot loosened.  

“Added complication,” she spat. “He saw you heal me the first time. That’s why you were about to kill him when you came for me.”

“What’s done is done,” Nykim said, waving his hand. “The boy is alive, and he’s going to stay alive unless you don’t want him along.” 

Resh looked up at that. “I passed?” 

“Depends on her.” 

“Not even a question.” She said it without a moment’s hesitation. 

A warmth bloomed in Resh’s chest that had nothing to do with getting to live. Which was also nice, of course. But he had earned enough of Carr’s trust that she’d not even had to think twice about him accompanying her out of the country. 

It was the greatest gift he’d ever been given. 

~~

Less than an hour later, Resh found himself seated in a carriage, moving at a brisk pace now that they had passed through the city’s gates. 

Across from him, freshly washed and in clean clothes, Carr shifted positions. Again. This time she wedged herself in the corner of her bench seat. It took a significant amount of fidgeting before she got comfortable. 

Despite her apparent restlessness, she’d given no indication she wished to talk. When Resh tried to engage her, she only gave one-word answers, so he elected to remain quiet. Instead, he studied her, trying not to be too obvious about it. A glance out of the corner of his eye while gazing out the window, really. 

Cleansed of the dried blood that had coated her, it was easier to see just how pale and worn she looked. Her damp hair hung about her face, grown out from the short choppy pieces he’d first seen her with. The longer strands seemed to be a source of annoyance. Resh watched as she pushed them back yet again, revealing the cut above her eyebrow and the bruises crossing her cheeks from that fucking muzzle.

Inside his sling, where she couldn’t see it, his right hand curled into a fist. There had been no time for either of them to process what had happened in that room. Resh was certain that was part of the reason Carr couldn’t be still. Probably why she wouldn’t rest either. 

He wanted to respect her choices. But he decided to speak up when she started blinking slowly, sleepily, only to force herself awake with more fidgeting. 

“Why don’t you lie down, close your eyes for a bit?” Resh suggested. Despite Nykim’s assurances, he was still worried about her overdoing it. 

Carr shook her head, tapping her fingers on her drawn-up knee. “I have months of this t’ look forward to, supposedly. Not gonna sleep through it all.” 

She’d lost a lot of blood, and Nykim had said it would take time for her body to replenish its supply. Resh hoped the resultant fatigue would keep her inactive long enough for the rest of her wounds to heal, but he wasn’t holding his breath.

Searching for a topic that might keep her interest, Resh latched onto the image of Carr and the thief master. He had seen them talking while he’d helped the ver–the kids load the carriage. He couldn’t think of them as vermin. Vermin were rats or other pests. Not children. 

Which had him thinking about his sister–no, he couldn’t think about Orla now. He would likely never see her again, and that was too painful to contemplate at the moment. A deep breath buried the ache in his chest, and Resh steered his thoughts back to where they had started. 

Carr and Nykim’s conversation hadn’t looked tense. Resh desperately hoped she’d forgiven him. It hadn’t escaped Resh that the man had guarded her secret for years. He’d only been looking out for her. 

Sucked it had been Resh’s life at stake, but Resh couldn’t really blame him.  

“Did you reach an understanding with Nykim before we left?” 

“Yeah.” Her response was short. Succinct. 

Godsdamnit. 

Resh leaned his head against the seat cushion, looking out upon the countryside. They were passing the fields outside the city, so he was treated to visions of farmers tending their crops or livestock grazing. Not very interesting, if you asked him. 

Time passed in slightly awkward silence, and they eventually passed through cultivated land into a stretch of wilderness. Resh sighed, relieved to be out of reach of the city. 

“Did you mean what you said?” Carr asked out of the blue. 

He raised an eyebrow, even while his palms began to sweat. Did she mean–

“When you said you loved me,” she said flatly, averting her gaze. 

Shit. Resh rubbed his left hand on his pants. “I… yeah, but listen, I don’t expect anything–” 

“Heard that part,” Carr interrupted, pulling her knees up to her chest. 

He had no idea what she was getting at, making him sweat even more. “I’m sorry. I’m not–I… I did mean what I told Nykim, but… it seems like maybe–maybe you mean something else?” 

Fuck, nothing was coming out right. Resh rubbed the back of his neck, trying to read her and coming up short. His shoulders slumped when she didn’t respond. “If that makes you uncomfortable, I can leave when–”   

“No! I don’t want that. I just…” Her arms tightened around her legs as she trailed off. 

When she didn’t continue, Resh took a deep breath and moved to the edge of his seat. “Carr, do you want… do you want to be friends?” 

He clenched his hands, hoping he wasn’t fucking everything up by asking. It just seemed like she needed some kind of reassurance, and being friends was safe, wasn’t it? And gods, how he wanted to be a friend to her.  

When she blinked at him, his breath caught in his throat. Shit, he wasn’t even sure his heart was beating. 

“I don’t know how,” she whispered. 

Resh offered an encouraging grin, even though his heart was breaking for her. “That’s okay. Our friendship can be whatever we want it to be.” 

She looked at him like he was some strange creature that had crawled out of the gutter. 

Okay, this was going well. Resh backtracked. “Or, um… we don’t need to name anything at all. We can just be… two people, traveling together. 

“And… when we’re done traveling? What happens then?” 

He didn’t think her eyes could possibly get any bigger. Or the look in them any wilder. If they hadn’t been trapped in a carriage, he suspected she might’ve run away. 

“Whatever you want.” Resh shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. He felt anything but. 

The silence was painful while Carr thought that over. The process looked exceedingly difficult; her brow creased and her mouth opened and closed several times before words finally came out. “I don’t… I want you to stay. With me. But I can’t–I can’t be… Fuck!” 

Somehow, she curled even tighter into a ball, burying her head between her arms. There was the muffled sound of a frustrated scream, and Resh shot across the space between the bench seats. 

“Carr, it’s just me,” Resh said, trying to give her some warning before he laid his hand on her arm. 

She twitched but didn’t jerk away. Still, he kept the contact light, something easy to pull back from if she needed to. Fine tremors he hadn’t been able to see but could now feel wracked her body. 

“Hey, it’s okay. When I said I don’t expect anything, I really meant anything.” He flushed, desperately hoping he wouldn’t need to elaborate. “I just… I enjoy your company. I want to be someone you feel comfortable around. Someone you can depend upon.” 

Gods, he sounded like a fool. He pulled his hand back, pushed it through his hair. Maybe she didn’t want anything that… familiar. Maybe all she wanted was not to feel alone. Either way, it didn’t matter what he wanted. He was the last thing she needed to worry about.   

“I hope you don’t think I’m trying to pressure you into anything, because I’m not. If you wanted to settle in separate towns, I would do it. If you never wanted to see me again, I would respect that. If all you wanted was to visit for a quarter of an hour once a season, I would take it. Look forward to it.”  

She lifted her head. “You don’t even know me outside of the prison. You can’t mean that.”

“I do,” he said firmly. “I don’t get the feeling you held back any part of yourself in there. Am I wrong?”

Her eyes were wary as she shook her head. 

Resh tucked a stray curl behind his ear. He didn’t miss how she followed the motion of his hand, and he sighed. “Look, I know this whole situation is fucked up. I’m sorry you heard what I said, and now you have to deal with that on top of everything else. It doesn’t change how I feel about you, but it’s not something I would’ve chosen to tell you barely a day after you were–” He choked on the words. 

Her face closed off. “Does that bother you?” She pressed against the wall, away from him. 

“How could it not?” A sharp pain pierced his chest, making it difficult to breathe. “I would give fucking anything for none of that to have happened. You should’ve left me. It should’ve been me. I wish it had been me.” 

He bowed his head to hide the tears stinging his eyes. Clenched his jaw against the sorrow that wanted to break free. 

There was a long silence while he struggled to pull himself back together. Then, he felt pressure against his shoulder. Carr had moved so silently he hadn’t noticed and was now leaning against him. 

“I don’t how t’ do any of this,” she said, staring straight ahead. “I’ll fuck it up.” 

The point of contact between them settled him and made his stupid heart jump at the same time. 

“I don’t care.” Resh leaned back against the seat and laid his hand on his thigh, palm up. Told himself not to start crying again.

Tentatively, Carr placed her hand in his. “I’ll annoy the shit outta you.” 

“Still don’t care.” 

“I’ll never be enough,” she whispered. 

The words were so quiet they were barely audible, and Resh’s heart contracted at the vulnerability in her tone. Carefully, slowly, he interlaced their fingers and squeezed. Her return grip was just this side of painful, but he wouldn’t have traded it for anything. 

“You already are.” 

Masterlist

Image Description

[ID: The banner is a sepia-colored version of the original blue-green background, with tree branches arching over a set of blue-green eyes, forming an approximation of a face. The words Hidden Depths AU are written in white above the eyes. end ID]

#fantasy whump #lady whump #whump #whump writing #original writing #original characters #alternate universe #hidden depths au #angst #warnings above the cut #magic #magic healing #knife to throat #knife tw #blood tw #life threatening injuries #awkward romance #(kind of :D) #depends on who you're asking lol

[windona]

Outlaws AU: blood and bone

Brion turned around to see a man swing at him.

Stepping aside easily, Brion used his training to observe the swing of his hips and the way the man moved. He had some experience, but clearly was not formally trained. Perhaps this man had gotten into a bar fight or two, but he was certainly no warrior.

Not bothering with his powers, Brion disarmed him and raised his hands. "Might I ask what this is about?"

The man snarled, and lunged at Brion again. Brion dodged to the side, and motioned for Rose to get some rope for the downed man. "Wait, karalis, didn't think that you could get away with your crimes without justice?"

The Markovian threw Brion. "What?"

Rose tied his hands behind his back, pressing hard on his shoulder to keep him down. Still, the man continued, "My sister was run out of town by your personal meta squad for not having the gene. My family was ruined because of the changes you made, and how you let the defense forces do whatever they wished."

"I-" Brion did not ever intended to let his people hurt like that. But he could not deny the results of his actions.

"If I don't kill you then someone will. You may have been acquitted, monster king, but you are not forgiven and you will face the justice of the people!"

There was a loud crack. Brion looked to where Rose had broken the man's arm.

"You won't go after Brion again."

The man turned to face Rose, in no position to actually hurt her but still full of fury. "I will never stop-"

There was a crunch as blood dripped down his face, his nose. "You will not go after Brion again."

"Rose-" Brion reached out. "He isn't wrong about what I did."

"You went on trial. You were acquitted in a way that was a death sentence. But even that doesn't matter."

"Exactly!" That earned the man another punch.

"See, it's like we talked about. People hurt you because they think they can get away with it. If you leave this man go without consequences, him and everyone else will think that they can keep on trying to kill you without issue." Rose looked at him, perplexed. "This isn't about revenge, it's about sending the right message and preventing further harm."

The alleyway was filled with trash and fluttering in streetlight. They were secluded enough that the rare traffic wouldn't bother them. It might as well have been another world.

Brion looked at the blood flowing from the man, and the broken bone.

Wasn't he tired of being used and hurt?

"I- see." Those words sank to the pit of his stomach.

Rose nodded. She leaned towards the man's ear and whispered, "Are you going to go after him again?"

"Um.."

Rose held up her fist.

"No! No I won't, I swear!"

Rose lowered her fist and smiled. "Good! Tell everyone else back home that Brion is off limits. He can't enter Markovia, so don't leave Markovia to bother him. Got it?"

"Yes, mother of god yes!" With that she released the man, and let him run into the streets.

#prompting night #Outlaws AU #Brion Markov #Rose Wilson #this scene has been in my head a while