#is it small speckles? like freckles or scars?

[tobi-smp]

anyways, I think it’d be fun if a consequence of tommy’s invisibility potion addition is that parts of him don’t all come back when the effect wares off

#dream smp #tommyinnit #headcanon #head canon #is it something subtle? a blurry intangibility almost as if he were a ghost? #is it small speckles? like freckles or scars? #is it a gaping hole in his chest that's slowly growing? #or is it something more gruesome entirely #muscle and tendon revealed by skin that acts as a window inside #almost inviting it to be studied

[twirlyleafs]

“Quid pro quo.”

Lando Norris x reader

TW: none, just fluff

~~~~

“Can I pick at the blackheads on your back?

Lando looked up at you, face turning into a somewhat disgusted snarl as he processed what you’d said. He was half laying down in the couch, reruns of some old show playing on the tv as he lazily scrolled through his phone. You leaned against the doorframe, a hopeful smile on your face as you waited for your boyfriend’s agreement.

“What?”

“Can I?”

Lando was used to your AdHd-induced ideas, the way you could suddenly appear in the room and start talking about something completely out of pocket. Usually he found it charming, cute, but this just had him squirming.

“No, you cannot.” He denied you, shaking his head as his eyes trailed down to his phone again. “That’s disgusting you muppet.”

“God Lan,” you groaned, dramatically throwing your head back. “Do you even love me?” The whiny exclamation had Landos gaze quickly snap up to you again, his eyes wide in disbelief. He watched you slump against the doorframe, pushing your bottom lip out in a giant pout.

“Excuse me?” He couldn’t help but let out something between a scoff and a laugh. You were adorable, dressed in just one of his shirts and your slippers, face contorted in what he assumed was supposed to be an angry frown. “What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with you? I’m asking for one small thing-“

“It’s unhygienic!” He argued, amused at the way you stomped your foot. Like a child throwing a tantrum.

“Oh, so you can put your dick in my mouth but you won’t let me pick at your skin?” You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to suppress your satisfied smirk at the look on Landos face. His lips pursed together at your statement, eyes narrowing at you as you glared back. The two of you stayed silent for a moment, both waiting for the other to back down, until Lando finally let out a defeated groan. He knew he couldn’t argue with that. While muttering stuff you didn’t bother listening to he tossed his phone away into the couch before reaching to pull his shirt off. A giant smile broke out on your face and you squealed, wiggling in excitement for a moment before skipping over to your boyfriend. Lando rolled his eyes as you grabbed his face, pressing a quick kiss against his lips, before guiding him to lay down on his stomach.

“You are the best boyfriend ever.” You mumbled, letting him get comfortable before getting on top of him, straddling his lower back. Landos huffed, turning his head to focus on the tv. You pressed a few kisses to the back of his neck before you began, eyes trailing over his back. Landos back was a masterpiece, you’d always thought so, speckled with birthmarks and freckles and tiny scars and sometimes scratches that you’d put there. Those were your favorite.

“That hurts.” Lando hissed, shrugging his shoulders as you pressed your nail against his skin. You used your other hand to push him back down, holding him still while you worked, and he groaned into the pillow. You picked at his skin for a while, pushing some blackheads and popping a small pimple or two, and despite twitching from time to time Lando didn’t say anything else. He didn’t answer you when you told him to stay as he was but when you got back from the bathroom, retrieving some antibacterial wipes, he was still in the same position and you couldn’t help but smile. Straddling him again you gently wiped his back down, making sure to keep the popped pimples clean and dry, before tossing the wipes on the table. Slowly you began scratching your nails up and down his back, moving out to caress his shoulders and upper arms too. You felt his skin almost rise under your touch and when you began pressing your thumbs into his muscles he let out a muffled groan.

“Good or bad?” You asked softly, stopping for a second. The moment he confirmed it did indeed feel good you continued, moving from massaging his shoulders and all the way down to his lower back. Occasionally you received a low hum from him and every time it made you smile.

“I like this much more.” Landos spoke into the couch after a while, moving his arm back and letting his hand fumble around until it found your bare leg. You hummed, leaning down to press soft kisses against his back, moving up until you reached his cheek. Lando turned his head and with a bit of effort you reached his lips, the both of you giggling through the kiss.

“Quid pro quo, right?” You pecked his lips quickly before straightening, carefully climbing off your boyfriend. With a grunt Lando turned around to lay on his back, squinting up at you as you stood beside the couch.

“You definitely know I don’t know what that means. But I’m assuming yes?” He reached an arm out, making grabby hands at you with a small grin. Letting out a breathy giggle you nodded, allowing Lando you pull you down on top of him. You made yourself comfortable, propped up on his chest, before answering.

“It means that I get something and you get something in return. A change of favors.” You explained softly and he let out an understanding hum.

“Right. I suffer through torture and then I get a massage?” Lando confirmed and you rolled your eyes but nodded. Your eyes flickered across his face and Lando watched you watch him, a breezy smile on his face. When he saw you push your brows together he raised his. “What?” Your eyes quickly met his and that same, innocent smile you wore a while ago crept up on your face again. Lando groaned even before you spoke up, knowing he wasn’t going to like it.

“Can I pluck your eyebrows?”

#imagine #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando norris #norris x reader #mclaren #f1 writing #f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 #formula 1 imagine #formula one

[wormspoodle]

some simple 03 headcanon designs,, continue reading for some thoughts on each

Leo:

- currently same height as Mikey

- lots of little scars from when getting thrown through that window

- less accessorized due to practicality

- knows basic sewing/ patching

- great at calligraphy (thought it would help with patience and focus)

i like to think that while practicing sewing, Leo made a little turtle from random fabric and gave it to Splinter (and Splinter ofc keeps it and displays it on a shelf in his room)

Raph:

- tallest (this one is actually canon in seasons 6 & 7)

- proud of numerous battle scars

- thinks the bandages give him a cool fighter/ brawler look

- knows how to work on bikes and vehicles but is still learning things from Donnie

I am a firm believer in Raph needing glasses but refusing to wear them and refusing to acknowledge having poor eyesight

Donnie:

- 2nd tallest

- bag contains some medical supplies, a few gadgets and spare parts or trinkets

- compression elbow sleeve worn due to the injuries sustained in Exodus Pt2

- "my senses are heightened with night vision goggles"

- matching gloves w/ Mikey

i was gonna give Don some scarring from the incident with the triceratons and that mind helmet thing (i forget what it's called atm) but i figured it might be unrealistic,, only the helmet was seen smoking

Mikey:

- will be taller than Leo one day

- small lip scar from roughhousing as a kid

- compression ankle braces (Mikey's ankles get injured at least 3 times that i remember so i wanted to add braces)

- the most speckled turtle bc all Mikeys are freckled to me

- matching gloves w/ Donnie

i like to think that April had Mikey help paint her nails one time and now thats a thing they do,, Mikey likes the feeling of wearing nail polish idk

#i firmly believe in 03 leo being the shortest #just makes sense to me #ik these aren't particularly flashy or ground breaking #i just wanted to draw them #tmnt 2003 #2003 tmnt #tmnt 2003 leo #tmnt 2003 raph #tmnt 2003 donnie #tmnt 2003 mikey

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Vesuvia Weekly: What it's like to hold the M6

~ my submission for this week's prompt - have some sappy headcanon drabble ^.^ ~

Julian

The sounds of leather folding and bending and creaking, of a pent up sigh, of a noble, anxious, too-big-for-its-own-good heartbeat fluttering against those thin, bird-like ribs

The smell of - yes, more leather - with a slight hint of sweat and the faded scent of the crushed herbs used to stuff doctor's masks

The feel of a well-worn, weather tested, oversized coat falling around both your frames, a cold set of bony fingers tangling into your hair through protective gloves

The sight of folded black cloth and slightly dulled metal buttons, a pale neck cradling your forehead, auburn stubble shivering over a bobbing adam's apple

The bitter taste of sea-salty lips, self-sacrifice, and coffee

Asra

The sound of an airy chuckle, a curious whisper, a deep, relaxed sigh, a heartbeat that touches your own with every gentle thump

The smell of smoking incense, sparkling spices, and syrupy vanilla, lurking beneath the petrichor of sunny spring rains on the dust of a far-off highway

The feel of a soft shawl on your cheek, sturdy linen body-warmed and slightly rough under your arms, heavy, heated hands running soothing pathways along your spine, cloud soft curls on your ears, a deceptively slight frame

The sight of golden metal and silvery blue stone on smooth skin, the barely-there rise and fall of a body slowly relaxing into yours

The taste of smoky tea, home, and desperate dedication

Nadia

The sound of rustling silks, the quiet clink of bracelets and rings, the hush of long, thick hair falling over chiffon-clad shoulders, a contented, throaty hum, a lofty heartbeat

The smell of jasmine, rose, pepper, and amber, of warm silk and chilled white wine, of flower gardens and powdery cosmetics

The feel of a heavy curtain of hair against your face, body warmth passing quickly through thin, gauzy sleeves wrinkling under your movements, of strong fingers tilting your chin into her collarbone

The sight of glinting gemstones and finely crafted metal, intricate embroidery stitches swirling across lustrous fabric, scalloped hemlines along sculpted shoulders

The taste of spiced fish, wine, and plush, commanding adoration

Muriel

The sound of heavy, rough cloth slowly dragging across itself, breaths hitching deep and slow, a grumble quiet and low enough to shake the earth, a nervous, powerful heartbeat

The smell of myrrh hanging around you like a cloud, of warm fur and chilly forest air, of falling leaves and running water and smoke

The feel of muscle and scruff, of radiating body heat, of massive, calloused palms alternating between gently splaying over your shoulders like blanketing weights and hovering cautiously around your waist in fluttering, feather like touches

The sight of thick, dark hair falling in choppy lengths over stubble and scar tissue, of thick green cloth over sinew

The taste of grilled forage and mead, of healing and steadfastness

Portia

The sound of an excited giggle, springing footsteps and jingling keys, a happy gasp and unstoppable heartbeat, a mischievous secret getting laughed into your ear

The smell of air-drying laundry and soap, hair oil and cocoa butter, fresh bread and sizzling butter and caramelizing berries

The feel of strong forearms, small, calloused hands, the push of energetic bouncing against your shoulder, of hair flying around your face, the plush squish of a no-holds-barred bear hug

The sight of fiery curls spilling over clean, pressed cotton, freckles speckling creamy skin, the occasional grey and white cat hair clinging to black ribbon, the dusk of a happy blush

The taste of yeasty bread, and the comforts of adventure

Lucio

The sounds of nearby dogs panting, a cutlass clanking in its sheath, the mechanical whir and musical hum of an alchemical arm, a confident, snorting chuckle and a devoted heartbeat

The smell of fresh sweat, warm metal, cinnamon alcohol in a journeyman's flask, hair gel and worn cologne

The feel of a padded, quilted vest, the quick rise and fall of an active chest, the slight tilt of a shoulder forever sloped in favor of a heavy arm, the sinewed grip of a warrior's touchstarved fingers and the cool, metallic touch of a careful clawed hand

The sight of sharp collarbones and glinting curved gold, fine flaxen hair at the nape of a snowy neck, crimson cloth and leather straps

The taste of grilled meat, traveler's wine, and new beginnings

#vesuvia weekly #hold the LI #ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

[rogueddie]

Soulmates Steddie Recs

Important: READ THE TAGS! Also, leave a comment and kudos! These fics are amazing and I love them and I hope y'all do too 🧵

And Death Stands So Small In The Face Of Love

writersagainstwritersblock

Soulmate AU where soulmarks don't turn until the person actually loves you, rather than upon meeting. Unturned marks are just ink until the person who loves you touches them and turns them into bright, colorful tattoos. Or a character study on Steve, the people he loves, and the people who love him.

Words : 14,514 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

Find the words and talk to me

daytimedreamer

In a world where a tattoo-like mark appears on your left wrist when your soulmate is relatively close to you, Eddie Munson doesn't have one.

But he's fine with it. Completely fine. Who needs a soulmate... Right?

He has his whole life figured out already and the lack of a soulmate hasn't affected his plans at all.

That is until a mark does appear and Eddie discovers he can't run from fate.

Words : 72,470 Chapters : 11/11 Rating : Explicit

AO3 : x

color me in danger

SolariaLunar21

The first time Eddie remembers a major change in the color of his meter he’s 11 years old. For most of his life the bar on his wrist has sat firmly in the green sometimes on very rare occasions darkening to a green blue color. That is until that day when he’s 11 and he watches it change to yellow for the first time.

Words : 4,755 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Mature

AO3 : x

Your skin and bones turn into something beautiful (You know I love you so)

ChristinMKay

Steve Harrington is born with a scream on his lips and so much love in his being that his body is covered in it. An abundance of moles, freckles, and birthmarks are speckled across his skin, painting him in constellations and stardust and affection.

The nurses and doctors are congratulating Steve’s parents as they place him in the arms of his mother. They say he is blessed. Lived so many lives filled with people who loved him so much that the press of their lips against his skin had to echo through time and leave a mark.

Words : 4,209 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Mature

AO3 : x

so we must meet apart

leah_btw

He sometimes imagines how it would feel to be in Munson's orbit. Sometimes imagines where his words would be. Hopes they'd curl along Munson's cheek bone where Steve could brush his thumb so easily. Or in the junction between his neck and shoulder, a place where Steve could drop kisses. Or along the curve of his hip, where Steve's palm could settle.

None of it matters because Steve never says anything.

Words : 15,437 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

Heart on Your Sleeve

Anonymous

Steve Harrington doesn’t know how to love right. He knows he loves his parents, but their soul marks have turned to scars on his skin. He doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong. With some help, he figures out it's not his fault.

Inspired by a kink meme prompt where your soul mark appears when you realise you love someone.

Words : 22,816 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Explicit

AO3 : x

Error Option Romance

thankyouplease

Eddie imagines that Steve Harrington probably thinks that he is real hot shit. On top of being a rich prom king, he is also an eroptomancer. A love seer. A soulseer, some people call them – someone able to see the weird magic that connects people in a predestined shit storm of a craps game. He probably thinks he’s real goddamn special. One in a million special.

It’s actually closer to one in five million, but who’s counting?

Words : 61,348 Chapters : 6/6 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

Platonic with a capital "P"

fucktacles

Robin Buckley was betrayed by the universe twice in her short teenage life. Once when she was born a lesbian in a homophobic little town. Again, when it shoved Steve Harrington into her life. Worst of all, he was starting to grow on her. She might even be, gods forbid, fond of him.

Words : 8,429 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

as you bleed your deepest feelings here

hitlikehammers

“My first fucking tattoo, hell,” Eddie sniffles and sneers and neither sentiment really lands, it’s more just…devastating. “Thought about covering it up, soon as anyone would let me into a parlor. Tried to stick-and-poke it, so I couldn’t tell what it was anymore but I couldn’t even get past a single little dot, like a full inch away,” he presses Steve’s hand closer, the skin so smooth and so fucking warm; “made my,” Eddie’s voice cracks then, and sounds almost like it bleeds around the last wet whimpers that fall forth:

“Made my heart hurt.”

Fuck, but it makes Steve’s heart hurt, too.

“But it was a whole new hurt when there was you, you understand?” Steve freezes, scared for half a second until Eddie reaches for his chin and lifts his gaze, stares utter devotion and maybe a little disbelief straight into Steve’s veins just with a look that full, then Eddie licks his lips and there’s a hint of a smile that dares to breach the cloud cover.

“You made my heart kinda,” and oh, yeah, a smile: “sing.”

Words : 3,096 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #fic rec #ficrec

[allfortheslay25]

Neil Headcanons:

(I have more hc but these are just a few I’ve written down)

After Mary dies, Neil sleeps with a pillow against his back. He can’t sleep without it there

When Neil is scared, he doesn’t make a noise, just either flinches or internally breaks down because screaming from fear or nightmare or whatever draws attention while on the run

Neil can’t cook with flavor at all. He sucks at it

Neil is a really good driver in every way besides parking. He cannot park to save a life. Parking was not essential on the run when he was a getaway driver so he never learned to do it properly

Neil picks at the skin on his lips so they’re really dry and chapped and scarred

He’s a nail biter and sometimes bites his skin to the point it bleeds

He had very few freckles due to lack of sun while on the run, but he still had some speckled over his face until they were cut/burned off during Baltimore

Neil slowly pierces parts of his body over the years to reclaim his body

He also gets a few small tattoos

He never properly learns to fight. All the Foxes take turns/bet on who can teach Neil to fight. Matt teaches Neil to throw a punch and it’s the farthest anyone can get

He jump-ropes at the dorms sometimes if he’s antsy and can’t trust himself to go on a run

Neil sometimes hates showers and finds them to be a hassle. He’s not used to showering so much because he didn’t always have access to a shower while on the run

He actually looks nearly exactly like Mary and less like Nathan. Mary just projected her anger for her husband onto Neil since he’s their son and said it was because he looked like Nathan. Neil actually looks like 90% of Mary but has similar hair and eye color to Nathan

Neil likes skirts but does not prefer to wear them outside the comfort of his home. He is not used to doing things that make people stare

Neil has a habit of needing to do something with his mouth so he chews gum sometimes (Nicky buys packs of them for him after Neil’s pens exploded in his mouth for the fifth time in a single week)

Neil makes dry, out of pocket jokes about his trauma randomly throughout a day

His favorite fruit is actually bananas but his favorite berry are strawberries

Nathan is polish so Neil knew polish when he was 10 but Mary beat it out of him because she thought it made him sound like Nathan

After staying in Palmetto, Neil becomes a sleep kicker because his body and mind are slowly processing all the trauma he went through and it makes sleep just chaotic (a temporary REM sleep behavior disorder)

Neil can’t grow anything more than peach fuzz on his face because Nathan’s male family genes don’t grow facial hair

In Neil’s second year, the Foxes all share their own meal recipes so they can each teach Neil to cook something that actually tastes like food

Neil’s favorite color is gray but his favorite color (that’s not muted) is blue

The reason Neil is not good with his fists in a fight is because he’s got better control of his legs and should be fighting with those instead (Renee is the one to realize this but since none of the foxes know how to properly use their legs in a fight, Neil doesn’t learn much)

#headcanon hour #aftg #all for the game #headcanon #neil josten

[sugawhaaa]

Lee Felix one-shot

☆~Your body~☆

Pairings::sub!felix x dom!fem!reader

Warnings::suggestive

Genre::smut to fluff

Word count::692

A/N:: I'm probably gonna do a version of this for a bunch of different groups and members because I love the idea so much. Also all the scars and marks are based off of my own [except for Felix's lolol] and I don't actually know if felix has these freckles. This is just a fanfiction so everything's made up.

"Y/N," Felix said in a deep shaky voice as you pinned him down to your bed. You slid your hand up his vulnerable abs making him jolt. "What are doing!?" He said inching away from you. Your other hand went up to the collar of his shirt and you tugged it down lightly. Your lips then attached to his sensitive neck. There was this one golden spot he would always beg for but today you decided to be nice and start marking that area first. The trick for Felix is always to use a lot of tongue, he just melts under it just like sugar. He instantly started whimpering and squirming around while chuckling slowly. 

He was petting the back of your head softly when you noticed something. Your eyes landed on a dark little speckle on the back of his shoulder. You stopped basically licking him like a cat and peeked down the back of his shirt. He jumped at your sudden action. "What are you doing?" Felix laughed as you put your hand down the back of his shirt.

"Do you have a freckle right here?" You said patting it lightly. 

"Hm? Oh yeah," he said looking at you with his innocent doll-like face. 

"I never noticed that before," you exclaimed with a shocked expression. 

"Really?" He laughed as he rested his arm on your back. "Do you have more freckles on your body?" You said peering down his back again. 

"Yeah, on my face," he chuckled.

"No yongbok I mean on your body not your head," he laughed at your serious expression and talk. 

"Yeah I have a few weird ones on my spine actually," he said sitting up straight. He then took his shirt off and turned his back to you so you could see it. 

"Oh that's so cute haha!" You giggled. The freckles went in a sort of pattern. There was one big one, then a small one, then a big one again. You poked them all gently. Felix chuckled.

"Hey that tickles!" He said as he jumped away from your fingers. As you continued to look at his freckles you remembered the scar on your back that's almost in the exact same spot. 

"I actually have a scar on my back in the same spot," you said as you yanked off your shirt. You both turned around so Felix could see it. 

"How'd you get that scar?" He said as his soft finger tips grazed over your skin. You tried to remember exactly when you got it. 

"Well when I was younger, like 5th grade I think? Maybe I was older, but anyways. In gym class one time I slid down the wall but there was an indent in the wall for plugs and a scraped my back against it," Felix hissed through his teeth as you explained it.

"That sounds painful to be right on your spine," he said as you turned around to look at him.

"Surprisingly it didn't hurt that much nor was it that deep of a cut but for some reason it just stayed," you shrugged your shoulders and Felix thought about your words for a moment before nodding his head, making his blue hair flop around. Randomly he grabbed a stray strand of your hair and started twisting it around his finger. He kept saying how pretty you are. "What's up with you felix," you chuckled as you grabbed him into a hug. You pulled him back down to the bed. 

"I don't know, just looking at you so closely reminded me of how gorgeous you are," he said with his Australian accent and a squishy smile. "I'm also curious. What is the big brown spot on your back," he said with a tilt of his head. 

 "Oh it's my birthmark," you said casually.

"That big?"

"Yup!" You smiled before resting your head down on the pillow. Felix pulled you into a hug and started rubbing his face against your cheek like a kitten. 

"Felix!" You whined as you put your hands on his head. 

"I'm just loving you is all!" He said as he squeezed you tighter.  

#lee felix #lee felix skz #lee felix smut #lee felix scenarios #lee felix stray kids #stray kids fiction #skz x reader #skz ff #skz fanfic #skz #skz felix #skz female member #skz fluff #skz fic #stray kids smut #stray kids felix #stray kids fanfic #stray kids

[kokopoptarts]

Baked with love

Lee seokmin x gender neutral reader.

It's Christmas Eve, the smell of vanilla and sugar and the sound of a Christmas playlist from your phone fills the air of your tiny kitchen apartment, you and Seokmin spent the past half an hour measuring and mixing ingredients in order to make your Christmas Eve traditional sugar cookies.

Fluffy socked feet pad across the white tiled floor of the kitchen as you head for the sink, washing and drying your hands, you turn only to be face to face with your lovely boyfriend Seokmin. He holds out his hand to you, a silent invitation to dance with him, the usual bright smile that adorned his face whenever you were in his company radiant as ever.

Placing your hand in his, he moves to interlock your hands together, one hand snaking around your waist to rest on your lower back as he pulls you in a little bit closer. Twirling and waltzing around the dinky little apartment kitchen together, a hairs width from each other's face, you can't help but notice the loving twinkle in his eyes as he looks at you, you feel your lips tugging up into a smile, mirroring the own smile on his face.

The song you were both dancing to was long over, but Seokmin still held you close to him, slightly swaying as if you were both trees moving with the wind. With a kiss pressed onto the knuckles of your left hand, he let go of your own. "You've got flour on you" cupping your face with his hand, he gently swiped away at the speckles of white that were sprinkled on your now flushed pink cheek with his thumb.

His hand lingered, eyes scanning your face, mentally he was noting all the freckles, wrinkles, dimples and scars that decorated your face, you may have classed them as imperfections but in his eyes they made you even more beautiful than you already are. Leaning in you could feel his breath fanning your own face, closing your eyes as you felt his lips gently place a kiss on the corner of your mouth.

After all your years together it still amazes you that even a simple chaste kiss on the cheek makes you erupt in a whole flock of butterflies, if Seokmin had a million wishes he'd use them all to kiss you a million times over. He loves you, there was no doubt in your mind that you didn't know that, every decision he made, he had your best interests at heart. Keeping you happy and safe was his one task in life and he put his whole heart and soul into doing just that, the same sort of passion that goes into every performance of his.

The ding of the oven timer snapped both of you out of your lovestruck daze, Seokmin was quick to grab the oven gloves as he took the freshly baked cookies out of the oven, carefully carrying the hot tray across the kitchen and placing it on the countertop beside the sink. As you both stood there looking at the tray of cookies like a pair of proud parents, you have to admit the cookies turned out fantastic.

Feeling that hand that was once holding you close to him earlier, snake around your waist once more. "We should let them cool before we decorate them" looking at him as you lovingly lean into his side "do you want to watch a movie while we wait?" At that question Seokmin perks up, gaining the energy of a toddler on a sugar high as he excitedly asks "can I pick the movie?" With a chuckle and a small smile you nod your head, watching him run off to the living room you come to the conclusion that you are in fact going to marry that man one day.

#seventeen #kpop #svt #dokyeom #lee seokmin #dk #seokmin #dk x reader #dokyeom x reader #lee seokmin x reader #seokmin x reader #fanfic #kpop fanfic #merry christmas everyone #fluff #romance #fanfiction #seventeen fanfiction #dk fanfic #dk fanfiction #dokyeom fanfic #dokyeom fanfiction #lee seokmin fanfic #lee seokmin fanfiction #seokmin fanfic #christmas

[soulofapatrick]

Heat Waves - Tommy Miller x Reader

Summary: You and Tommy reunite after four years and give in to the attraction which little to no shame despite Tommy being your dad’s best friend

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: smut- fingering; age gap (12 years)

Y/N's POV

I have known Joel and Tommy since I was twelve, a year after my dad and I moved to Austin, Texas after mom cheated and dad got a divorce. Joel and Tommy have become part of mine and my dad’s family, them joining us for meals and vice versa at least once a week. My dad, Joel and Tommy had plenty to talk about, working the same construction jobs while I got along pretty well with Joel’s daughter - Sarah. As kids we used to find what they were talking about oh so boring, hearing them talk about blueprints and building materials but now that I’m older I can appreciate the sense of community it all brings. 

One summer evening dad had invited Joel and Tommy over after I came back from University. It’s been four years since I’ve seen them and being such a big part of my life we though it was a good idea to surprise them with my return. When I tell you my jaw dropped when they walked in I mean it like jaw hit the floor and Sarah was sniggering behind her hand where she was sat with me, already having been here since school ended. The Miller genes are fucking amazing, ageing like fine wine. I couldn’t stop myself stealing glances at Tommy, his voice deep and smooth as he spoke which sent shivers down my spine every time he spoke.

I’ve had a crush on Tommy since we met the first time, Sarah having told me that he found me attractive as well but I was too shy and scared to make a move as I was like twenty at the time and Tommy was thirty two. It seemed like too much of an age gap and then I decided to pursue university and moved out of Austin, Texas for four years. He looks breathtaking, his curls falling effortlessly, framing his face in a way that makes my heart skip a beat. His small goatee and moustache giving him a rugged look that he didn’t have before. It’s alluring and intimidating. He’s wearing a blue button up that fits him like a glove, accentuating his broad chest and toned arms. I can’t not look at the way his muscles bulge with every movement he makes. His sun kissed skin is smooth, with a sprinkling of freckles across his face and his eyes are striking and they seem to change between russet and cognac. 

Joel’s really grown into his features more and has really become a neighbourhood DILF. He’s gained a lot more muscle which I didn’t know was possible. He’s gotten a rugged and weathered face now but he’s still as much of the life of the party as he used to be. He’s grown out his beard and hair, both now speckled with salt and pepper and a few wild strands sticking out in every direction. His broad shoulders and muscular arms are still impressive, coved in a faded green teeshirt that hugs his chest so well. He’s got a scar above his right eyebrow now. 

Both of them already hot and sweaty in the Texas humidity, leaving little to the imagination and no matter how good Joel looks I can’t keep my eyes off of Tommy and the way his teeshirt is sticking to his chest and revealing just how much he’s toned up over the last four years. Tommy feels me staring at him as he meets my gaze, tongue darting out to wet his plump bottom lips and it does something to me, especially when his eyes drag down my body, taking in every detail. He lingers on my curves and the way my teeshirt is almost a little too tight and just how short my shorts are, the heat not being kind to me. Before either of us can do anything or I can react Joel is capturing my attention. 

“Y/N? Is that you?” Joel grins as he sees me, standing next to Sarah who is giggling as she looks between me and Tommy. I send her a glare but there’s no poison behind it, moving forwards to hug Joel. His hug is like a bear hug, comforting and warm, enveloping me in a sense of safety and security. He’s always been like a second dad to me, someone I can turn to when my dad’s being an ass or we’ve had a argument. 

“Hey, let me hold my sweet girl too!” Tommy jokingly wrestles his older brother away from me and suddenly I’m in Tommy’s arms, a rush of warmth and desire surging through me. His embrace is strong and confident yet somewhat tender and loving. I can feel his chest rising and falling with each breath, and the sound of his heartbeat is soothing and reassuring. As I rest my head on his chest, I can smell the faint scent of his vanilla cologne mixed with his natural scent. It's a masculine, musky smell that's both comforting and alluring. His grip is strong and confident, yet gentle and tender at the same time. I can feel the warmth of his hands through my clothes, and the sensation sends shivers down my spine. Tommy’s fingers run up and down my back while the other reaches up to stroke my hair as he whispers, “I’ve missed you so much sweetheart.” His voice is deep and smooth, a hint of playfulness to it. 

“I missed you too,” I mumble back, feeling a rush of emotions: mixture of desire; want and a flush of embarrassment, “I’ve been thinking a lot about you recently.” I keep my voice soft and teasing, matching his playful tone as the heat rises to my cheeks. Sarah’s clearing her throat as the back door opens and I’m slowly, reluctantly, pulling away from Tommy. 

Dad appears in the living room, a smile spreading across his face when he sees the Miller brothers have arrived, he pulls Joel into a man hug both of them laughing and patting each other on the back before he does the same with Tommy, “Come on, come on, the barbecue is going!” 

Joel and Sarah follow Dad down the hallway to the garden, the smell of the meat grilling so fucking good and I moving to follow after them when a sound of surprise leaves my lips and my face burns with shyness as I can’t help the flutter of excitement in my stomach at the touch of Tommy’s hand on my backside. His grin is playful and cheeky, clear that he’s enjoying making me flustered. I can feel the heat radiating off of his body when he steps closer to me, eyes locking on mine and calloused hands finding my hips as he murmurs in my ear, low and husky, “Sorry sweet girl, I just couldn’t resist.” 

My breath hitches in my throat at his words and I’m biting my lip to suppress a moan as he presses his lips to my neck, kiss soft and innocent yet so sensual before he’s pulling me back into the living room. The air crackles with tension as he pushes me back onto the sofa, his cognac eyes a deep russet as he climbs over me, my heart pounding in my chest when his lips latch back onto my neck and he mumbling, “Fuck you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” 

“T-Tommy…” I whine, my hand finding his soft curls and tugging his lips to mine, a soft moan escaping him as I pull his hair. The kiss is urgent and intense, sending a rush of desire through me as he presses his body against mine. I can feel his muscles tense as he deepens the kiss, his hands roaming over my body, fingers ghosting up the inside of my thighs and towards my aching mound. This is so risky as my dad could walk right back in any moment but I don’t care because the rough pad of his fingers are rubbing over my already soaked panties. 

“I want to take you on a date, I want to show you off and I want to show you how much you mean to me,” He’s cooing, sending shivers down my spine and my mind is a blur as his fingers move my panties to the side, a soft groan escaping him as he gathers my slick on two fingers before plunging them into my aching heat with no warning. His hand is slamming over my mouth, muffling my cry as he curls his fingers and hits that spongy spot almost immediately, “You’re such a good girl.” His thumb circles my clit and I’m bucking into his hand, whining in pleasure when he begins moving his fingers in a fast and harsh pace. I can hear the sound of his heartbeat pounding in my ears, and I feel his body tremble with passion as he holds me close, whispering sweet praises into my neck as I feel my high so close embarrassingly quickly. All the years of pent-up desire are finally released in this moment, Tommy curling his fingers and pressing my clit one last time and I know as my back arches of the couch and I cry into the palm of his hand that there's no going back. With each passing second, I feel more and more consumed by my desire for him, my heart beating faster and faster as I surrender to his embrace. 

Suddenly, before I can finish riding out my high Tommy’s fingers leave me empty and he’s replacing his hand with his lips as I let out a sound of anguish until I understand why. 

“Oh my god! It took you two long enough but please, not on my nice couch,” Dad’s voice breaks the kiss, “Get your asses outside before Joel eats all the burgers, he’s already eaten two,” There’s an amused tone to his voice that has me and Tommy giggling and panting in relief. Tommy gives me a playful wink before taking my hand and hoping me to my feet, legs shaking embarrassingly while Tommy’s smirk grows at the sight. He’s keeping my hand in his as he leads me outside in to the warm evening air, the smell of the sizzling burgers and the sound of laughter and conversation fill my senses. I can feel Tommy's fingers interlaced with mine, his touch sending shivers down my spine. My heart is pounding in my chest, the thrill of being with him still fresh and new. We join the others at the barbecue, with Joel already halfway through what is apparently his third burger, the sauce smearing his face. Dad hands us each a plate, and we start filling them with food, joking and laughing as we do. 

“That’s like fifty you owe me.” Joel turns to my dad, speaking around a mouthful of food and holding his hand out to which my dad pulls out his wallet, “I knew they wouldn’t keep their hands off of each other.” 

“Asshole.” I throw a bun at Joel and he just grins, putting a burger patty in it and setting about demolishing his fourth burger which makes us all laugh as that man can eat his weight and never put on an extra pound. 

“You’re not mad about our age gap?” Tommy asks my dad who glances at Joel and Sarah before he replies. 

“I was at first, there’s at least twelve years between you but these two have given me years to put those apprehensions aside,” He tells us honestly and I nod, understanding and feeling so thankful for everyone in this weird makeshift family I’ve gained for myself. I can't help but feel a sense of pride at being with Tommy, and I catch myself stealing glances at him throughout the meal. As the evening draws on, we all sit around the fire pit, the warmth of the flames dancing over our faces. Tommy's arm is draped around my shoulders, his thumb tracing lazy circles on my arm. I feel safe and content in his embrace, my mind still reeling from the intensity of our escapade earlier. Of course, we can’t have anything nice as Tommy is leaning in close, breath hot against my ear as he murmurs, “I can’t wait to ruin you later sweet girl.”

------------

The Last of Us Masterlist

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@princessmk21 @iraot​​ @gemimawrites​​ @zynbsblog​​ @twopercentmilk​​ @urnewghostfriend​​ @sonhee-a​​ @dizzyforyou-blog​​ @grooveandshit​​  @canpillowscry​​ @jell0buss-37​​ @androgynousgaz​​ @not-a-unique-snowflake89 @certifiedhunter​​ @miya-park​​ @emmulus22​​ @mediocrewallflow3r​​ @itsmoonchik​​ @kalllistos​​  @randomhoex​​ @fariylixie0915​​ @marvelsimps​​ @pedritosdarling​​​ @phoenixxtay​​

#tommy miller #tommy miller x y/n #Tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #Tommy miller smut #Tommy miller fluff #Tommy miller angst #dbf!tommy #dbf Tommy miller #Tommy miller fanfiction #Tommy miller fanfic #Tommy miller fanfics #Gabriel luna #the last of us #the last of us x reader #the last of us x y/n #the last of us x you #the last of us smut #the last of us fluff #the last of us angst #tlou #tlou2 #tlou x reader #tlou x you #tlou x y/n #Tommy tlou #tlou tommy #tlou smut #tlou fluff #tlou angst

[littlemourningstarr]

Divine Ordinance

Being cared for was still something Astarion wasn’t used to- and it was terrifying to rely on this man, to think that he needed someone- But if it was ever going to be anyone, it was going to be Sekh’met.

Read below or on AO3!

Pairing: Astarion x Transmasc tav

Part of the Eternally Yours series!

Tags: Transmasc tav, post game, fluff, smut handjobs, vampire bites/feeding

Astarion shifted, settling his weight comfortably onto Sekh’s lap. The drow was beneath him, straddled by the vampire’s weight, but seeming quite pleased to be pinned down to the plush chair. Astarion nosed at his throat, his fangs aching, body going taut knowing that the hunger would be satiated, soon.

In the days after the Netherbrain, after the damn near fall of Faerun- things had been strange. Astarion had lost the sun- and while he mourned it, he still had things that mattered more.

Namely, the man beneath him, whose hands were finding his sides, stroking his curves slowly.

But being in the city hadn’t been as conducive to feeding, as Astarion had hoped. Leaving the city walls for food was a hassle- it almost made him miss the days of sleeping in the dirt, with the forests surrounding them.

“Lost in thought?” Sekh asked, as Astarion inhaled his scent, let himself get lost for a moment in the smell of his blood, just below his warm skin.

“Maybe,” Astarion mumbled, pressing a kiss to Sekh’s pulse point. The drow’s pulse spiked for just a moment at the touch, and it made Astarion try to push closer, want to claw his way into the man’s bones. “Sorry pet.”

“Take your time.” Sekh’s eyes fell shut and he leaned his head to the side slightly, bared his throat. That warm, dusky skin dotted with freckles and now speckled with little scars, all from Astarion’s fangs. The first day Astarion had noticed, he’d felt a guilt welling in him, over those marks- but Sekh seemed to like them. After all, they were proof that he could give Astarion something, care for him.

Being cared for was still something Astarion wasn’t used to- and it was terrifying to rely on this man, to think that he needed someone-

But if it was ever going to be anyone, it was going to be Sekh’met.

Astarion dragged his teeth along Sekh’s throat, heard the drow exhale, his hands grip at Astarion’s waist. Astarion bared his teeth, took a single breath, before he pressed his fangs into Sekh’s waiting skin. It split like silks, and Sekh gave one, single shudder- and then the pain was something else, something altogether pleasant.

Astarion pulled his fangs from skin, got the first flood of blood into his mouth. He swallowed greedily, not pausing the savor the first taste- he was too hungry for that. But the second taste, he let flow over his tongue, settle there- let his mind revel in the sweet, decadent nature of his lover’s blood.

One of Sekh’s hands had moved to his back, was stroking along his spine. Even through his shirt, Astarion could feel the press of warmth over his scars. Scars that in the end meant nothing but a broken contract.

He’d laughed bitterly over it, plenty of times.

He pushed the thoughts from his mind, refusing to think of him, in this precious moment. No one belonged in his thoughts except Sekh, when they were like this.

Astarion felt warmth rushing through his body, his mind beginning to clear from the hunger-fog that had settled over it. He sighed, made a pleased little noise, heard Sekh breathe good, love- and he closed his eyes, let himself get lost in it.

He pressed his tongue to the two small puncture wounds, slowing the flow of blood into his mouth. He wanted this to last. The heat stemming from his belly was slowly seeping out to his limbs, making him feel alive- making him feel good. He rolled his hips slightly, and heard Sekh chuckle.

The hand that was still on his side moved to his hip, squeezed, before Skeh’s fingers seemed to dance along the waist of his pants, grasping at the lacings between them, tugging gently. “Can I?” the drow asked, and Astarion shivered. He forced himself to pull from Sekh’s neck, lick his lips and whisper yes.

Sekh’s deft fingers had his pants open in seconds, as Astarion pressed his mouth back to Sekh’s neck. He lapped at the wounds, as Sekh’s hand pushed into his pants, palmed him through his underwear. Astarion groaned, bucked against his palm- his cock half hard from just the moment he’d gotten his first taste. But the promise of Sekh’s touch had all his freshly gifted blood rushing to his groin.

Sekh freed his cock fully, wrapped his hand around Astarion and gave him an agonizingly slow stroke. The vampire moaned, mind beginning to spin- pleasantly. He had to admit feeding was always a bit arousing- simply because there was such pleasure in hushing the hunger’s violent whispers.

But with Sekh? It was magnified, tenfold. Being so close to him, the scent of his skin, the heat of his body- and then adding in this blood that was more decadent than sugared treats from a life long forgotten- Astarion’s body reacted without thought, flooded him with a desire that he was finally free to embrace.

Astarion pushed at the wound in Sekh’s neck, as the drow paused, rolled his thumb over his cockhead, teased his slit until precum soaked his thumb. Astarion huffed a breath, hips jerking slightly, and Sekh chuckled, such a warm, bemused sound, as he stroked down Astarion’s shaft slowly. “Impatient,” he whispered.

Astarion swore he heard the stars, in this man’s voice. His amusement sent the warmest tendrils through Astarion’s body, followed by a pleasant hum in his groin, snaking out to his lower back, his belly, as Sekh touched him like they’d been together for a thousand years.

His grip was just tight enough to keep Astarion trembling. Astarion tongued at his neck again, got another small taste of his blood, before he pulled his lips back and bit for a second time. Sekh groaned, the sound shaking Astarion to his core, had his cock throbbing in his lover’s hold. This time when the first wave of blood rushed his tongue, Astarion let himself taste every nuance to it, yet still swallowed greedily.

“Starshine,” Sekh breathed, and Astarion could smell arousal in his sweat. Gods, it drove him mad, how easily this man turned to a fire for him, how badly he could want.

Astarion forced himself from the new wound, caught the sight of blood rolling down the curve of his lover’s neck. His cock leaked a fresh rivet of precum, over Sekh’s knuckles, his belly beginning to twist in knots. “My name,” Astarion breathed, daring to glance down, catch the sight of Sekh’s hand around him, the flush of his own cock, like he was alive again.

“Astarion.” Like a prayer. Astarion bowed his head again, licked up the trail of blood on Sekh’s neck. A stifled little moan from the drow had his belly twisting in knots- close already. He tried to push closer, hips canting to meet each stroke. He wanted to come, wanted release, wanted the sheer bliss of satiation of blood and his every sense.

He swallowed another generous mouthful of blood, felt the spike in Sekh’s pulse. He could only imagine how wet the man was, between those perfect thighs. Astarion couldn’t wait to taste it.

Sekh breathed his name again, and Astarion let himself go. He shuddered, down to his core, drawing in the taste of sweet blood as his orgasm rolled through his body. He groaned into his lover’s neck, as Sekh whispered encouragements, little sweet nothings that were always somethings, his voice enveloping Astarion. The vampire pulled from his neck, panted against the damp skin, mewling as the orgasm continued to take hold in his belly. When it finally ebbed, when Sekh’s hand stilled, became just a warmth around him, Astarion sagged against him, nuzzled into his hair, breathed him in.

“Do you need more?” Sekh asked, the question laced with a thousand implications. More blood? More bliss? More of anything the drow could give him?

Yes, always.

“I’d like to keep you conscious,” Astarion teased, knowing he couldn’t take more of the drow’s blood. Sekh had seemed to build up a tolerance for not succumbing to the light headedness that came with blood loss- but Astarion never wanted to push his limits.

He pulled back, just enough that Sekh could turn his head, and sought out the drow’s mouth for a much needed kiss. The first taste of his own blood on Astarion’s tongue had Sekh moaning, an unholy and yet divine sound that sent a spark of sheer arousal down Astarion’s spine. Astarion let him have a true taste of himself, let the man tease his fangs with his eager tongue, before he pulled back, straightened up in the drow’s lap and reached for his hand, still teasing his half hard cock, just enough to let Astarion know the night was young, oh so young, if he wanted more.

He guided it from his cock, took two of Sekh’s fingers into his mouth, let the drow push them over his tongue, back towards his throat. His own bitter seed mingled with the blood in his mouth, made Astarion’s eyes nearly roll, as his lashes fluttered. There had to be some godly meaning, some divine ordinance, behind the fact that they tasted so good together.

Astarion caught his lover watching with rapt attention, eyes blown, lips parted as he breathed quickly. Astarion eased his fingers from his mouth, let them drag over his lip, before he pulled away completely, climbed from Sekh’s lap only to fall to his knees, before him.

He’d have him, over and over again, before day broke. He’d have this man crying his name, he’d watch him unravel in sheer bliss as Astarion found endless release inside him. He wanted everything they were to intertwine- and oh, it would, he swore it.

But the night was oh so young indeed, and he planned to take his time- planned to revel in every sweet taste of this man’s body. Planned to love him properly, until both were too exhausted to move.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #sekh'met #sekstarion #tavstarion #eternally yours #astarion/tav #astarion x tav

[rumbelleshowdown]

Author: Rose Daughter

Prompts: Dark chocolate. Falling in the dark. Constellations.

Group: B

-

Ad Astra

They’re called freckles, apparently.

It had taken Belle some time to figure out what he meant when he said he liked her ‘little dots’. The word tickles him for some reason. It’s a fanciful-sounding thing. Freckles.

The first time he’d laid eyes on her – stretched out on the beach, the brim of her sunhat flopping into her eyes – he thought she might be made of alabaster. The same pearly gypsum as the statues he has found amongst the remnants of shipwrecks. He knows better now, having observed her so intimately. She is lovelier, far more fascinating than the unblemished stone of sculptures. There is such detail to her; the silvery streaks on her thighs and stomach, a few faded scars here and there, and all those gorgeous freckles.

She is the inverse of the night sky. If the sky is soot and coal with tiny pinpoints of light, she is cream and roses, stippled with ink stains. They form wee patterns on her skin like the stars overhead. Constellations, Belle called them. They’ve spent many afternoons lying in the sand, him dripping seawater onto the cover of her mythology book. The names bewitch him. Cassiopeia, Ophiuchus, Andromeda, Vulpecula. They’re prettier than the sort of human language his ears are accustomed to. Their lyrical quality resembles the sounds that his fellow Finfolk trill to one another beneath the waves.

Rumple likes to get her words right. He likes to get them wrong, too. He even does so on purpose, sometimes. Just to hear her darling giggle. Just to watch her plush, pink lips tenderly sound out each syllable as she corrects him. But his tongue takes quickly to the delicate names in her gilded book.

The constellations on Belle’s body don’t match the ones charted on the pages. They are entirely her own. It’s a game that he likes to play with himself on the sunniest, drowsiest afternoons. As Belle frolics in the surf and sunbathes on the low tide’s dense sand, he amuses himself by playing astronomer. It requires a great deal of imagination, but then, doesn’t all stargazing?

Lunaris; the cluster on her inner forearm that bears a striking resemblance to a crescent moon. Then there is Florens Rosa; a speckling that contours the back of her neck, each dot falling into place to create the illusion of a rose in bloom. And his very favorite, Saltatio Delphinus; the abstract likeness of a leaping dolphin on her upper thigh.

Every night, long after she’s returned to her cottage, Rumple peers through the mouth of his little grotto. He scans the stars to see if the Gods have plagiarized from Belle’s canvas. To see if they are brave enough to try to replicate one of her designs.

They never are.

(+++)

As a young boy, no larger than a seal pup, Rumple used to thrill-chase by diving into the seemingly bottomless trenches that cut into the seafloor. The blue of the water would get darker and darker as he plunged down, until he was floating in an empty, inky blackness. It was like being swallowed up by the maw of some ravenous predator. His vision would swim as he sank away from the surface, his small body too fragile to handle the pressures of such deep water. Yet, he would push on.

It was exhilarating. To free fall through the darkness, to do something he wasn’t built for.

Finfolk aren’t meant to dive so deep, but he did. They aren’t meant to liberate and hoard human trinkets. They aren’t meant to steal pretty human lasses.

But is that truly what he’s done? Stolen her? It certainly doesn’t feel like stealing. How can you steal what is so freely and happily given? How can you steal what is served on a silver platter, garnished with shortbread crumbs and cheeky smiles?

She was there throughout the summer, when the sunlight made her auburn hair burn like the bonfires the villagers build on the beach. And she is still here amid winter’s grasp, when the heavy clouds cast her in soft focus and the rain extinguishes the embers in her hair.

Every time he lays eyes on her, it is like diving into those trenches again. The disorientation, the vertigo, the intoxicating thrill. To be thoroughly overwhelmed and still want more.

Belle is an abundance of more, always willing to provide and spoil. Butterscotch and blackberries. Jokes, chats, and out-of-tune songs. Early morning breakfasts and late afternoon lunches. Stories of all sorts, bound in leather and paperboard.

And Rumple always takes without hesitation, for fear that there will come a day when there is nothing left to give.

(+++)

Most days, Rumple awaits her arrival in his grotto, tucked into the shadows, impishly giddy at the thought of taking her by surprise. On quieter days, when there is no traffic on the beach, he instead lounges in the tide pools, his eyes trained on the bluff’s coastal trail.

He has waited long past sunset today, which is a rarity. Belle finally trots into view over the uplands’ crest, her knapsack heaved over one shoulder, its bulging mouth threatening to spit its contents in exasperation. Her silhouette is otherworldly, the green tartan skirt of her frock looking flimsy as the moonlight passes through it.

Rumple doesn’t have to question if she comes bearing treats. She clambers onto the rocky outcrop to reach him. A small rectangle robed in silver foil is pressed into his wet hands.

He adores the foil, marveling at how it reflects the water’s shimmering surface in its ripples and wrinkles. He does not adore what the foil is wrapped around.

Belle claims it’s chocolate, but he has his doubts.

“It’s dark chocolate,” she explains, nibbling on a square. “It has less sugar and no milk, so it’s sharper. There’s a bitter bite to it.”

“It’s re-volt-ing.”

“You eat raw trout.”

She rolls her eyes, muttering disparaging comments about his palate. Despite her grousing, she is more than happy to polish off half of the chocolate bar by herself. It makes sense to him. Belle likes sharp things; teeth, and claws, and wits.

Rumple doesn’t mind sharp, but he prefers soft; round jawlines, and button noses, and fond scolding. What he can’t stomach is bitterness. It agonizes him that the stories in Belle’s mythology book all start so whimsically and end so brutally. And that no matter how sweet their days are together, it doesn’t change the fact that she’ll always leave him at the end.

She allows the hefty book to continue its slumber in the caverns of her bag. It’s too dark for her deficient human eyes to make out the fancy lettering. Besides, she looks far too tired for narration duty. Her cheeks are stained with a lingering flush of exertion, her eyes dim with sleepy contentment.

“Today was the Cèilidh,” she says, by way of explanation.

Despite her sore legs and weary yawns, he rouses her to perform a final dance for an audience of one. She demonstrates a reel, her skirt flaring around her legs as her bare feet kick up golden puffs of sand.

Rumple doesn’t really need to know what it’s supposed to look like to know that she isn’t very good at it. Her footwork is clumsy and she wobbles as she pivots. She’s even off-time to her own humming.

“Not the most graceful sort, are you?”

Belle lurches to a stop mid-turn, her brows knitting together. “Excuse me?”

“You look rid-ic-ulous.”

“It’s a far cry better than you could do.”

He gives an exaggerated sneer of offense. “You think dancing requires legs? How horren-dous-ly ignorant.”

Her mouth perks into an amused smile. “Show me.”

“A proper dance begs a partner, does it not?” he says, beckoning to her with his talons.

Puckish delight eats up the sweet turn of her lips. She used to make such a fuss about swimsuits. Now, she just gathers the hem of her tartan frock in her fists and lifts it up over her head. She discards it in a careless heap on the rocks.

Next came the perplexing underthings, fiddly-looking clasps coming undone with a flick of her fingers. Rumple drinks her in like a marooned man at a pool of freshwater.

It fills him with pride to be the one allowed to stargaze at the lavish expanse of her pale, pretty sky. To behold the constellations that live beneath sweaters and sensible woolen tights.

She wades into the water, her skin pebbling in the brisk night air. He takes her hands in his own and guides her further into the sea, the waves lazily sloshing against his back. When her toes can barely touch the ocean floor, he winds his arms around her waist. He hauls her into an embrace, thinking of how sailors greet their sweethearts the first moment their boots hit dry land.

Then, with a twist of his fin, he sweeps her legs out from under her, tucking his tail beneath her bent knees. Belle’s squeak of surprise gets lost in a breathless giggle.

He supports her gently, their bare chests flush against one another. The lack of resistance in the water allows them to spin effortlessly, twirling in small, quick circles. There are no fancy steps – no steps of any sort – but Belle begins to absently hum that same Cèilidh melody.

“It sounds better on a fiddle,” she murmurs, as though embarrassed by her rendition.

“I sin-cere-ly doubt that,” he whispers back.

As they spin, weightless and languid, Rumple leans his forehead against hers; his customary vow of adoration. But then, Belle does something strange. She tilts her chin up and presses her mouth to his. As she captures his bottom lip between her own, Rumple lets out a choked gasp, like a human swallowing seawater.

And then it’s over. It was so fleeting, he could have whimpered from the loss.

“Mhm…what…what was that?”

“A kiss.”

So he does what he’s always done when Belle gives him something; he immediately asks for more.

One kiss turns into two, which melts into a third, and a subsequent stream of kisses that come so leisurely, there is no telling where they begin and end. And he’s falling again, into the darkness of the sea’s deepest trench. His head is spinning, his lungs are burning, and still his every thought is ‘more, more, more’.

“You’re very greedy,” she chastises, though there is little heat behind her words.

Rumple flashes his serrated teeth, heartened rather than discouraged. “You shouldn’t give so readily, dearie. A beast may become accus-tomed to taking more than you’re willing to part with.”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t let you have.”

And he believes her, his generous Belle.

He is struck with a stroke of brilliance. A kiss could be planted just about anywhere, couldn’t it? What if he were to kiss every last constellation in her sky? He could even tell her all of their names as he goes.

He purrs this idea against her lips. Belle throws her head back, moonlight splashing over her porcelain face, and she sends a laugh up to the true stars above. And then her laughter is smothering him as she gives a greedy beast his fill.

Rumple realizes, huffing a small chuckle of his own, that he might like the flavor of dark chocolate after all. So long as he is tasting it on her tongue.

-

#rumbelle showdown #round three fics #author: Rose Daughter

[finnissilly]

another short story between kilo and miles- this being the last time they interact.

TW: lots of phyiscal pain descriptions, torture, vomiting, mentions of abuse.

Two figures sat across one another in what looked to be an underground campsite of a sort, the only source of light emitting was that of a small campfire within the vast darkness.

The first looked to be that of a taller, built, pale elf with dark hair, his face was thrashed of many scars, with a tired expression painted across his face.

He looked to be the older of the two, wearing darker loose fitting clothing bedside his armor.

The other seemed to be a shorter, younger elf with darker blue skin, his hair was that of a starlight off white color, his face appeared to have freckles speckled across as one of his favorite eyes remained covered by his hair that draped down.

He’d worn dark, almost full armor to cover and protect themselves in the harsh world he’d lived within.

The two looked to be related of sorts.

His face painted a different expression though, one of which that portrayed distress.

It was relatively quiet between the two as the only sound was the popping of the firewood, crackling and sparking.

“Right.. what’s wrong?” The older one spoke, breaking the silence as he glanced over at his younger brother.

“Hm?” He seemed to snap from his daze as he met with the man across the fire.

“You’re only this quiet if you’re upset or if you’re distracted. Both can fall into the same category.”

“Oh um..” Kilo was caught off guard, “it’s-“

“You’re full of shit if you say ‘it’s nothing’ Kil’” Miles spoke as he glared over at his brother, he was a very blunt and brutally honest individual.

Kilo, quite the opposite as he considered his options, before sighing in defeat.

“Well- I guess just..” they struggled in an attempt to find their words “I miss my parents, y’know..?” He admitted. “I mean- they couldn’t had just.. up and left me could they? They would’ve told me they would’ve-“ he was soon cut off “yes they would’ve.” Miles spoke bluntly as he took a swig of alcohol.

“No! I- maybe with you but not with me. I-“

Kilo stopped before covering his mouth, gasping as they’d realized what they’d said, looking over and seeing an angry expression on his brother's face.

“No I- I didn’t mean it like that.”

Miles let out a laugh “no- no I get it! You’re the perfect son and I’m the fuck up they sold! Yeah. Yeah that tracks.” He spoke in an aggressive tone.

“Miles.. you know I didn’t mean it like that, I never said you were a fuck up-“

“Yeah but you sure meant it.”

“No I- you’re not a fuck up. I’ve never thought you were one..” Kilo tried to calm his brother down as he sighed.

“No I mean, what I meant is-.” He stood up.

“I don’t understand why they’ve done what they’ve done I mean- they sold you, like you said, and they.. I dunno I guess never really paid much attention to me and I just..” he sighed, it went quiet for a moment.

“It’s unfair, yeah but..” Miles spoke letting out a sigh before he’d shook his head “They’re just shitty people, don’t try to put much thought into their actions.” He said in an attempt to calm him.

Kilo snapped “No! They’re not shitty people they- they took care of me! They fed me they-“

Miles sort of laughed “Kilo- you can’t still seriously be defending them?” He said in a puzzled way, Kilo about to speak back as Miles hadn’t let him get a word in.

“Yeah- they did the BARE minimum?? Kilo- they neglected you your WHOLE life! And you still defend them?” Miles spoke baffled and a bit angrily as he stood.

“Because they’re my parents!! I’m supposed to love my parents! And they’re supposed to love me! And- I need to do better!” Kilo yelled in an upset tone.

“Oh for god's sake Kil- why can’t you see what shits they are?? They NEVER even fuckin told you about me! You had to find out that shit on your own, what kind of parents fuckin, sell your children and neglect the other one??” Miles snapped at him.

“Maybe they had a good reason! Maybe they were I dunno.. low on money??” Kilo tried to defend his parents

“Oh and you think that’s a fucking excuse?? Low on money? So what? You pop out a baby and sell him immediately??” Miles was so baffled with Kilo’s argument.

“YOU’VE NEVER EVEN MET THEM!!” Kilo yelled out at Miles.

“I don’t need to have MET THEM to know that they’re fucking CHILD ABUSING CULTISTS!” Miles practically screamed at his brother.

“They- what-?” Kilo’s eyes widened as he focused on his brother.

Miles was stunned for a moment before he’d shook his head

“Oh- yeah! Did I mention? Yeah they’re fuckin cultists, built a WHOLLEEEE cult on the raven queen, and I was their little present to her!” Miles ranted out

“What? No I- that can’t be true.”

“Pff- oh hear and weep Kil’ if you don’t believe me? Oh just ask Fern. That’s how we met in the first place.” He spoke as if they hadn’t seen Fern in at least over 3 years.

Kilo shrunk “no I… no how could they-“ he shook his head.

“You remember that little symbol Fern had on his forehead? Yeah that’s FROM them, their sadistic fucking cult.” Miles growled.

“No- you.. you’re lying!” Kilo began to panic as they yelled out.

“Why would I do that?” Miles said as he crossed his arms.

“Because- You’re- you’re just jealous because you killed your dad and I still have mine.”

Kilo said as Miles’ expression immediately changed, more in an upset form as Kilo brought up his adoptive dad.

His expression soon turned to rage as he walked over to his brother, and grabbed the collar of his shirt to lift him off the ground.

“You do NOT get to talk about him like that. Or EVER.” Miles hissed at his brother, who shrunk in the grasp of him.

Miles' expression intensified as he bawled his fist up and growled, before punching his brother in the face, breathing out before letting Kilo drop to the ground as he walked off.

Kilo sat there on the ground as he watched his brother walk off, glancing down at the ground as they clenched their fists, their face ached, but they knew Miles held back on that.. despite everything.

Miles breathed out as he turned within the cave-like structure he was in, placing his head in his hands momentarily as he sighed to himself. “God fucking dammit Kilo..” he spoke aloud to himself.

After some time of walking, he’d made his way to a small stash of different items he’d been smuggling to different people, scanning his items before spotting a barrel, picking it up and taking it with him.

He was supposed to smuggle some illegal items to a faction he was vaguely associated with, he was the guy they’d gone to whenever they needed a smuggler for a task.

Granted, he was good at his job and he worked alone, careful not to involve his friends or family into his crimes as he didn’t want to make it their problem to deal with.

He sighed, making it to the meeting spot after what felt like forever.

“Moonshine! There he is, our favorite smuggler!” A taller, quite bigger person had cheered out, briefly going over putting an arm around Miles as he’d shaken him slightly, Miles could never quite recall the name of the faction or the faces of these people too well though.

Only thing he’d really recalled was these specific two being bigger than him.

“Get off me-“ Miles hissed as he escaped the arm of the first man. “Ah that’s right, shadow-boy doesn’t like being touched.” He spoke with a gruff laugh, backing away as Miles rolled his eyes at this exchange.

“So, did you get the goods?” A, slighter shorter one chimed in.

Miles nodded as he set his barrel down, kicking it over to the two, It rolled to their side.

Miles crossed his arms afterwards.

“Ohh! This is gonna be so go-“ the first one began to pick up the barrel but as he did, it began to growl and rumble, unhinging itself as it showed a mouth that opened to reveal its sharp teeth.

Miles eyes immediately widened

“MIMIC!” The first of the men screamed out before dropping it, the other quickly snatched it, immediately throwing the creature off the nearby underdark rocky cliff side, the three glanced over the edge where it was thrown, seeing the creature fall before it had gone into the endless abyss.

The three went silent for a moment.

The taller man shot his eyes over to Miles, furious as he’d grabbed him by the neck “YOU TRYING TO GET US KILLED MOON?!” He screamed at him as he held him up within the air.

Man this would be a good time to teleport, but unfortunately- Miles already used that ability up for today.

Miles gasped as he choked, holding onto the massive hand that covered his throat, attempting to get free “n-no I-“ he gasped out, feeling the hand around him tightening, he had to act fast.

He quickly reached for one of the short swords at his side, swinging it at the hand, immediately dropping to the ground as a blood curdling scream let out of the man.

Miles gasped for breath as he coughed, hearing a thud nearby- glancing over and seeing the hand he’d just severed off.

The man screamed in agony as his friend now went over to Miles,

Miles attempted to get up, but before he even could- he’d felt his hair being yanked back as now he was forced to face the shorter man as he winced. “oh you’re gonna pay big time for that one Moon.” He spoke intensely to him.

As the other tried to stop the immense bleeding from his arm, using a spell on himself to heal the area, now just remaining a stump.

Miles attempted to get out of the grasp of the man who held him, as he sure as hell wasn’t going down without a fight.

Nearly ripping his hair out of the grasp as he’d harshly jolted out of it.

He’d soon felt a hard kick to the face, enough to make him fall onto his face from the nearby ground as he groaned, trying to get up once more, as another harsh kick to the back was done- enough to make Miles yell in pain, being soon met by the first man- pinning him to the ground by sitting on top of him.

“get the FUCK OFF ME-!” Miles yelled out as he could feel the intense pressure applied to his back not budging and keeping him there.

He couldn’t do anything, and he felt helpless. The only thing he genuinely felt good about was his strength, and that felt like it was ripped from him within seconds.

The one who kept him pinned began to speak

“Right.. perk up Moon! You won’t die.” He laughed as he continued, whispering closely to his ear “oh.. but you’ll wish you were..” He spoke with such an intimidating and intense demeanor as laughter was heard, Miles' vision slowly starting to go in and out.

Shit.

He’d completely blacked out, assuming one of them made him go unconscious, he wasn’t recalling how or why.

When he woke up his limbs were pinned down to a wooden table of sorts, not sure where exactly he was.

“Oh good morning sleepyhead.” A voice spoke to him, tilting the wooden panel he was on upwards.

His weapons and armor were taken off of him, just left in his wine colored shirt, chocolate colored pants and black boots.

“Where.. am I.. what did you do to me?” He spoke as he felt the pain from those kicks earlier remain.

He felt so dazed as he tried to get a look around the room he was in, but everything felt and looked too blurry to tell what exactly was going on.

“Oh we haven’t done anything to you.. not yet at least.” The shorter one spoke to Miles as he groaned shaking his head as he felt his stomach churn as he groaned

“Oh yes, well we did drug you to weaken you.. and to knock you out, we know you’re normally quite the strong one, we couldn’t have that..” the second ones voice spoke.

Miles gasped out before groaning “all this.. just for a fucking mimic..?” He spoke weakly as the room began to spin in his vision.

“You ALSO- cut off my FUCKING HAND-!” The taller one screamed at Miles right in his face.

Miles stayed silent for a moment “right well.. to be fair you did try to strangle and kill me..” he laughed weakly.

“Do you think this is funny Moon??”

“A little bit.. yeah..” Miles spoke in such a dazed and loopy voice.

“Right then, I’ll show you funny mister comedian-“ one of them had growled before absolutely decking Miles in the stomach, immediately causing him to throw up more as he groaned.

“God-! Could you have tried to aim somewhere else besides me??” He exclaimed

“Ah shit-“ Miles laughed weakly as he groaned “my bad, next time I get drugged then punched in the stomach by someone I’ll be sure to aim somewhere besides them-“ he laughed weakly before being decked once again, this time in the face, then his stomach, arms, legs, all over. This repeated for quite a while as he’d huffed out.

“That-.. that all you got..?” Miles taunted as he, for sure was totally out of it, bruises quickly forming across his body. As he could almost recall the two men looking in puzzled awe at one another at this man.. not only staying conscious but also joking? Taunting them?

“Right funny guy- enough fun and games.” One of them spoke as he’d soon brought out a beaten up looking tool…? Wasn’t too sure what it was with the dazed vision Miles had right now, maybe a pipe? Crowbar? It was something big and metal.

“The fuck is th-“ he couldn’t even get a sentence in before whatever they’d wielded was hit directly on Miles’ knee joints as he screamed in pain, feeling his bones crack, as they’d hit him in several other places- ribs, arms, over, and over..

He felt himself barely keep a consciousness up, actually he recalled losing consciousness several times during this but being brought back up just so that he was awake for everything.

The pain was agonizing and unbearable..

“And here.. I do believe it's only fair- since you took my hand, I can take yours.” The bigger man spoke as he’d carried a sort of hacksaw, “except.. I’ll make yours, so much worse..” he smiled in a grim manner.

This felt a bit overkill for a small mistake, sure mimics aren’t pleasant to deal with but this was fucking insane.

The saw pressed against Miles’ wrist as he could feel it begin to tear into his skin as he made a blood curdling scream

“Yeah! Doesn’t feel too nice does it Moons??” He spoke as Miles was practically sobbing from how much pain he was in, begging them to stop.

Finally, after what felt like several hours the three were alerted to the door as it had just gotten bashed into, looking up as it was Kilo, standing there within the doorway, huffing out angrily, Miles could barely make him out amongst the tears and the drugs distorting his vision.

“Get… the fuck away from my brother.” He growled in a protective manner.

“What? Moons you gotta brother?? Why’d you never tell us lad?” One of the men spoke with a chuckle.

“Oh hey Kil…” Miles spoke weakly, barely holding onto his consciousness, he was glad he was getting help but.. not sure how to feel about it being Kilo.

“Good gods.. what’d you do to him??” Kilo spoke with a concerned yet angry voice.

“Oh nothing he didn’t deserve second Moon.” A chuckle snuck out of one of the men.

Kilo huffed as he shook his head “listen here- whatever trouble you’ve got with my brother, just let him go. No one has to get hurt, we can discuss this civilly.” Kilo spoke in a flat yet slightly intense tone, he’d always been more of one to talk conflicts through before combat, however they’d hurt Miles, and he was holding everything in him back on fighting them.

“Your brother here gave us a mimic kid-“ the first spoke flatly as soon being joined by the second yelling

“And cut off my FUCKING HAND-!” Showing kilo what used to be where his hand was.

“Good gods Miles-“ Kilo spoke as he facepalmed, “is this true??” He yelled out to his barely awake brother.

“Pff-“ Miles shrugged “Yeah..” he laughed as he spoke weakly.

Kilo shook his head. “God dammit Miles..” he spoke defeatedly, pulling out a sword ready to fight these people.

“Aw lil moon wants to fight-!” One of them called out as Miles began to lose consciousness once more- the world around him getting blurrier and blurrier as he was fading in and out, hearing bits and pieces of the fight commence- hearing the commotion as he couldn’t do.

Anything.

He did hear a very faint yelping noise that sounded to be the sort of his brother, from that alone he could tell he was hurt, he knew what Kilo sounded like and he knew these people struck him.

He completely blacked out soon after that as the void felt as if it engulfed him whole, having the vague memories of Kilo's voice beckoning for Miles to wake up, and being moved somewhere.

He couldn’t figure out if that was real or not, but he assumed so.

It was dark and it was dark for so long..

He felt a poking in his side as the sharp pain came back in that area, he’d winced as he began to groan, his consciousness regained and he saw the sunlight.. sunlight? Oh of course.

He was up on the surface now.

He’d felt the hard dirt road of a ground underneath him as he tried to sit up, wincing in pain.

“You took quite a fall there sonny, we thought you were a goner for sure!” An older man spoke to him with a chuckle.

Miles shook his head as he tried to stand up.

“Oh- easier now there boy, you’re still quite hurt.”

He shook his head at the elder’s concern- seeing his items scattered across the ground as walking felt like agony, attempting to pick his things up as he lost his balance and fell to his knees.

The elder man rushed to his side, attempting to help him “Woah there lad, here-“ he pulled out a small health potion and gave it to miles.

“Sorry I know it don’t be too much, but I hope this’ll get ya back on yer feet.”

Miles quietly had taken the health potion, downing it as he felt some of the pain go away, still quite beaten up but not nearly in as much pain as before.

He sighed out. “Thanks..” he weakly spoke as the old man let go of him, Miles regaining strength had grabbed his things and put them back on.

He felt so dazed as he tried to recall what’d happened.

“What happened to ya?” The elder asked as Miles turned around “I haven’t quite seen a fella as beaten up as you in quite some time laddie.”

“Well I-..” he tried regaining memory as it felt like a massive headache, like the biggest hangover he’d ever had, he briefly looked at his wrist as he’d been putting his armor and gloves back on, now remaining a nasty scar, everything rushing back to him.

“Kilo… oh shit Kilo-“ he spoke as he frantically looked around and not seeing him at all. “Shit, shit- shit!” He began to run.

He ran down the dirt road in attempts to see if he could catch up or see where they’d gone, he ran for what felt like hours- until his legs wore numb and tired.

He panted out, breathing heavily as he placed his hands against his knees.

His harsh breaths shook as the night began to fall. “Fuck… FUCK!” He yelled out as he punched a nearby tree.

“God… DAMMIT!” He yelled out as he paced, his breathing beginning to get shaky as he felt tears trickle down his face..

That was the last time he’d ever seen Kilo.

#dnd #d&d #dnd oc #dungeons and dragons #dnd character #d&d character #dnd story #writing #writer #dndbackstory #d&d story #dnd backstory #d&d backstory

[2lim3rz]

BLANK SLATE BEGINNINGS (40K FIC THING) (OC X HORUS LUPERCAL)

Tomfoolery in the dms happened so have a Sibley x Horus fic because I yearn for big men and small women

There were no words at the time to describe whatever Sibley was. No words except the most scandalous type; cursed.

Given that religion and beliefs of the sort were more or less outlawed, it was the worst sort of insult.

But Sibley was used to it. She was by no conventional means beautiful, perhaps she had a possibility, but it had long passed. Her face and most of her body was torn asunder with poorly healed burns, her nose was bent from an equally daunting gouge in the middle, and several smaller scars speckled her body like gruesome freckles. Her eyes weren't even similar; one brown and one green. The only thing she bothered with was the bleached stripe of blonde hair in her otherwise half-shaved head.

So it was by raw miracle surely, that she ended up serving as one of the many untold underlings in the gilded halls of the Emperor himself. She never was going to question how she had ever gotten there. Never. Her focus was better placed upon her job. Better placed upon ignoring how people refused to work near her.

She was used to the treatment. For as long as she remembered, none enjoyed her presence. From where she knelt at an open floor panel, she stroked the oddly smooth texture of her quartered face. Smearing some oil from the coolant lines upon it. An absent habit of a absent mind.

Sighing, Sibley replaced her screwdriver and lifted a wrench. She needed to get this done. While it wasn't the most well-travelled of halls, it was certainly enough to warrant some form of rush. If only to avoid the terrifying golden soldiers.

Of course, given Sibley's track record of any form of luck.. her work was interrupted by footsteps. Heavy enough she assumed at first that it was one of the Custodians but.. somehow it wasn't. It didn't have the same drumming rhythm that their great marching steps had. It was measured yet still sith enough of a pause to have her do a doubletake over her shoulder.

It was a massive man treading down the halls. Upon him was a long ornate billowing crimson cloak belted to him with a massive orange eye that seemed ever staring. Under that was a shirt of chainmail softly jingling with each gargantuan step. His belt was the whitest color she had ever seen, corners gilded in gold with another one of those massive eyes. At his side was a sword that no human thing but him could wield, his right hand encased in a white and gold gauntlet. The left bore a simple wristband.

Another jingling noise alerted her to a series of coins upon his belt, he was too far for her to see what was upon them. Yet part of her thought the.. almost loincloth-esque structuring of leather looked absurd with the puffed out dark grey pants and the furred boots. Not that.. she judged it too much. Even if she self-consciously pulled her own sleeves down and hiked the collar of her uniform up.

She forced herself to look away. To bury herself in her work and away from the impressive man. Perhaps feeling it a touch odd that she didn't feel the rumored effects some of the more out-there workers whispered about when dealing with the massive men. Other than it was uncanny how well.. big they were.. and until this moment she hadn't realized how handsome. Even if it was a brief glimpse-

"Pardon me, I nearly stepped on you there." A warm yet deep and sonorous voice spoke. A shiver rushed down her spine just as much as confusion made her tremble. Why was he speaking to her? No one spoke to her unless they were forced to. Even before her scars it had been like that. So when she looked up to see a kindly (if not overly handsome) face, she couldn't figure out if she was blushing or paling.

"Gh- It's fine." Her voice was more tense, more rude than what she meant it to be. Yet it was unheard of for apologies to be directed to her. She felt as if she wanted to knock herself over with the wrench in her hand. She was more than certainty blushing now. Staring up at his face like she was. Seeing their true differences. A jaw lightly coated in dark stubble cracked into a grin. It was hard to decide if she wanted to look away or stare into those dark eyes of his. Was his head really as smooth as it looked from down where she was?

"If I didn't know any better, I'd have assumed you weren't good around people." His voice, smooth as gold, was a shattering force to her bewildered mind. Forcing herself to look away, she floundered for a moment at her predicament. She was being disrespectful. She should be in trouble. Not.. having someone speak to her so casually. It was horribly uncanny having someone speak to her as one spoke to a friend.

"'M not." She whispered grumpily to herself. Whipping her head upwards again as he chuckled. How did he hear her?!

"Is that why you're working in this hall?" He mused. That gentle smile still upon his face. It left her more.. just more conflicted. He was certainly shattering a personal record of people willing to be around her asides from whatever thing decided to make sure she lived childhood. Gripping the wrench tightly in one hand, Sibley gave a vague sweeping gesture of her hand.

"...No one likes working this hall. Floor panels get stuck. Not enough malfunctions or priority to justify two man teams." No one appreciated working alone most times. Not in such grandiose halls. Not where one mistake would have the techies breathing on your neck faster than you could say 'frag off'. Not only did you have to work fast, you had to be meticulous.

"Ah, I see. So you are using your job to hide from everyone else?" The man tilted his head down at her before abruptly kneeling down. Bending over to look into the large open panel "You should possibly tighten that bolt on the secondary."

Sibley sputtered for a moment. Suddenly uncomfortable by the proximity of the man. People only got that close when they were crammed in a small room. Her eyebrow twitched as she gawked before huffing and doing as he suggested. Surprisingly, it was actually loose. And it prevented a later malfunction to occur.

"I could say the same about you, you know." Hesitantly, she spoke up. Not daring to eye the man in fear of repercussion. Wincing at the chuckle he gave to her remark. She expected punishment.. not.. this. "How did you have me figured out?" The question was unexpected as she looked up at him once more. Staring up at him even though he had bowed so low. Completely engulfing her entire view.

"..No reasonable person in rich clothes like that walks in the deeper halls. N-Not that they're not allowed to! They just.. don't." she found herself awkwardly sputtering towards the end. Shifting the wrench closer to her so she could hold it in both hands with a frown. Watching the curious expression on the man's face as he hummed low.

"So I've been caught red handed. You're not going to turn me in, are you?" the question confused her as he told it in a lively way. Was he serious? Was this a joke? "..No?" The curious sparkle in his eyes never went away as he rested one arm upon his raised knee. "Don't you know who I am?" the question was out of the blue. Of course she didn't. If she watched the charts for who was entering and who was leaving, she'd be out of work for hours. Never mind wasting precious sleeping (sewing her several-times-mended clothing) time to watch the news. Slowly shrugging, Sibley despised the feeling of being in a spotlight. She just wanted the handsome man to go along on his merry way and so she can waste the rest of her day like usual.

Though those thoughts paused at the genuine surprise that appeared on his face. Tilting his head back in laughter and shaking it. His shoulders trembling before he resumed grinning down at her. "You have to be pulling my leg. You work in the Emperor's castle and yet don't know me?" The incredulous tone made Sibley's skin tingle all over as she stuck out her lips in a pout. Glaring at him with no heart in it as embarrassment chewed at her. Last thing she needed was an uppity noble laughing at her.

"No. Too busy to. I need to get back to work before I get in trouble anyways." Sibley gritted out. She should have known she'd get mocked in the end. If it wasn't from being avoided like she was some plague-pest, it'd be insults because of her face or the subtle (or more than) limp she'd gain on bad days.

"My apologies," she stopped moving at those words as she was stunned to silence "It's just that lately I haven't encountered anyone else on Terra that didn't know me." How was she meant to respond to that? Relaxing the death-grip she had. Sibley realized how tense she was until that moment. Having enough will to resist raising the wrench in the name of self defense as the man extended a hand.

Looking from hand to oddly friendly face; blinking slowly as she did. She waited another awkward moment as he spoke. "Then let me introduce myself, ma'am. I am Horus Lupercal, Lord of the Luna Wolves." vaguely some of it rang a bell in her mind. Though she still stared at his hand.. Ever so reluctantly letting go of the wrench to shake his. Still somehow surprised that he was warmer than the average human was or that his callused hand wrapped hers with complete gentleness. "Sibley.. of nothing." She threw the flair in perhaps a little dramatically. Even if the man.. even if Horus's kindly face shifted the handshake to hold her hand by the fingers. Raising it (and lowering himself further) to lightly brush his lips across her skin. Briefly her thoughts ruefully drifted to horror that he'd even bring himself closer to her ruined flesh.

"It was fun to meet you, Sibley; Lady of the floor panels. I unfortunately have to return to my duties." Horus's voice was lower. Grinning mischievously with a wink and letting go; with clear reluctance, stood. Leaving her to stare in bewilderment and with a hot blush on her face. "..Uh.. I too. I mean- You too!" Why did this Horus fluster her so much? Was it the fact that he was the first man to show just the barest of friendliness to her?

Her wonderings stopped as Horus walked away and looked over his shoulder a final time. "I hope you meet you again. That one wire is about to come loose as well." he called back. Sibley looked down, checked, and noticed he was right again.

Belatedly, she realized he never recoiled from touching her. Nor did he seem to get grumpy at her for any reason. Resuming her work with a sigh, Sibley begrudgingly thought of how she shouldn't had cowed herself so much into distrust.. even if the scars upon her itched and her legs ached. No, perhaps distrust was more of her safety net. After all, it was slim to none that she'd ever encounter him again.

#warhammer 40k #warhammer 30k #horus lupercal #OC #sibley 40k #2lim3rz writes #horus lupercal x sibley #psychic blank

[nightly-ruse]

And the other lad requested by @goobiestar !

-Made him very speckle and a much darker gray then I initially wanted but like. His white markings stand out more now. White diamonds are on his nose, ears, and back.

-Wears various browning leaves and one feather for his sister Moonflower. Scars just cuz I think he’d have some?

-Hc wise he’s trans using he/him and bi

-Fave ships are SageGoose and PineGoose they’re real cute, tho I also like HawkGoose for that angst

(ID-Goosefeather is a small dark gray cat with messy fur and a dark expression, leaves scatter on his tail and he has a underbite. He is very round and spiky with wild fur, floppy ears, and a scar on his chest and belly. His tail his limp with a blueish purple feather on it. He has dull blue eyes, a streak of yellow through them. Dark gray goes down his back, on his legs in bands, over his face in a mask, on his muzzle, ears, and tail. A lighter gray is on his chest, face, paws, belly, and underside of his tail. White is on his chest, front toe, tail tip, back in diamond shape, chin, muzzle in freckles, nose in a diamond shape, ears with diamonds, and back of his ears. He is standing to the left a defensive position with a unclear expression as he looks back to the camera. At the top right is the colors used and over his back leg the faint signature “Nightly Ruse”. End ID)

#Goosefeather #tired. Very tired #Hope you like him Goobie! Actually like this version #night knacks #warrior cats #ruse’s wc designs #warrior cat designs

[ucn-au]

How does your mike afton unc au looks like?

I made a character sheet for him, but it's very long so I'm gonna write a simple description

He's pretty tall (around 6'2") and lanky. His hair is very long (to the tights), curly and a very dark brown that fade into a bright purple with small patches of white hair (he has Poliosis, a decrease or absence of melanin in hair, eyebrows, eyelashes or similar places). He usually keeps his hair in a thick braid, a ponytail or a bun.

His skin is pretty tan (being that he's half Mexican) with some vitiligo-like patches of purple skin, many freckles, a big scar on the bridge of his nose, and smaller but noticeable scars at the corners of his mouth (from Ennard)

His eyes are pretty feminine with a purple iris with blue speckles. Sometimes he wears golden rimmed round glasses, but usually only when he reads, preferring to use contacts (he used glasses as a kid, but because he didn't really need them as bad as Evan, he didn't really wear them, and when he was an adult he used contacts until he was Scooped)

And for the clothes, he prefers to wear soft and baggy things like hoodies and sweaters, and usually wears jeans with knee-high boots. He has many accessories, like fingerless black and purple gloves, a utility belt, many earrings, and a necklace with a red gem (Terrence has a necklace identical to Michael's, only with a purple gem instead of a red one)

Aaaand I think that this is all!

#ucn au #fnaf ucn #fnaf au #michael afton

[allthesmallthingsgt]

sitting round a fire

A short story of my characters Kith and Eliza enjoy!

Word count:631

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Honestly, I don’t blame you" she said quietly taking a pause “being scared of me.” Eliza looked down at the rocks surrounding the fire pit.

“Huh…scared? What do you mean.” Kith said as he turned to her. Her face had a warm orange glow from the fire but a light melancholy expression.

“I don’t know” she said gesturing at herself “look at me sharp teeth and just, all this, I don’t know. isn’t that like scary? Even just a little?”

“Sometimes” her lip quivered “but I don’t mind. Most of my fear is just instincts.” He said with a reassuring small smile tugging at his lips. She quickly glanced at him, but her glum expression still remained.

Kith walked from the rock he was sitting on to Eliza’s foot and sat down. He was dwarfed but he looked up into her beautiful face and the moon in the background. Locks of hair spilled down from her crown as she bent her neck closer to him. In a slow movement she held her hand out trembling comparing it to him. Eliza inspected her digits with fearful eyes.

“I’m so big. You’re so fragile” sucking a small breath as she whispered, “I wouldn’t forgive myself if I ever hurt you.”

“I know you would never try to hurt me.” He said in a serious tone. She was fixated on her hand twitching with fear of herself. Reaching between the spread of her fingers he stared into her huge eyes glossy with forming tears and said “So stop calling yourself scary. You don’t deserve that. Don’t cry.” 

Kith placed his hand on her finger he felt her heart beating faster. He gestured if it was okay for him to be closer. Kith took a step now standing on her thighs, Kith gestured for her to come closer to him. Eliza’s eyes were pools of amber with yellow rings surrounded by dark lashes. Freckles like constellations spread across her cheeks. She had a light scar on her forehead that he would've never noticed.

He’s never been this close to her. Nothing about her was scary or showed she would ever think of hurting him. 

Kith placed his hand on her cheek, Eliza let out a small shuddering gasp. Her skin grew hot underneath his touch.

“oh my” she whispered breaking the tension letting out a small giggle. Kith felt the laugh go right through his body gently shaking his bones. 

“Oh my” he said back breathlessly “you’re beautiful. Uhm your eyes up close they’ve got rings of gold and slight blue speckles around your iris... never really noticed that.” he said trailing off awkwardly.

Her face erupted into a hot mess trying to look anywhere but him. 

“I made that awkward sorry ha-ha” he said as he shifted his weight, rubbing the back of his neck. Picking up his foot to leave he almost fell off of her. Eliza’s arms shooting forwards she quickly wrapped her fingers around his back in a snug grip as he let out a loud squeak. His wide eyes looking up at her, she could feel his racing heartbeat going a mile a minute.

“Fuck” he closed his eyes rolling his head back in her hands as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “That was instincts okay I don’t go squeaking around. I’m not a fucking mouse.” He covered his increasingly hot face with his hands not wanting her to see his fickle embarrassment.

A warm laugh ringed out from above as he groaned. He opened his eyes to see a light smile on her face and those amber eyes staring back. 

“Now it’s your turn to be flustered, mouse boy.” she said jokingly.

“Is this going to become a new nickname?” Locking eyes with a playful grin.

“Possibly”

#g/t #g/t fluff #sfw g/t #giant/tiny #gentle giant #kith #eliza #g/t angst