#of silk and swords { closet }

[eureka-its-zico]

Chaos in Their Bones Ch. 2

Ongoing Series

Synopsis: All your life you’d listened to your friend, Usopp spin wild tales about pirates and adventure. Pirates weren’t a thing that came often to Syrup Village, but one straw hat pirate and his crew changed all that the day they arrived. Now, you aren’t so sure if your sleepy little village was always pirate-free or if no one had been paying attention. 

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Genre: friends to lovers, frenemies to lovers, slow burn (I hope y’all like aching) eventual smut

Words: 6k+

A/N: For this chapter, I played with the idea of having Zoro’s POV. It felt necessary for the story progression that I had in mind. This chapter was a tad fun to write, and I hope that translated well into the story. Originally it was going to be longer, but I realized I wanted to save the dinner to go with all the action to end the Episode 3-4 story arc. Thank you guys so much for the love you’ve given this little story. I hope it continues to be one you enjoy 🖤 Much Love, Jenn

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This place is a maze. 

That thought rang true with every hallway you entered and the endless number of rooms within. With every step you took inside Kaya’s large estate, those words kept echoing through your head. How many guest suites could one house possibly hold? But also, why would you ever need so many?

You’d been wandering the halls for what felt like an eternity. Your head poked into each room after a brief knock. Yes, a brief knock before plunging head-first into someone’s private space wasn’t much of a warning but at least you were knocking. 

And all of this just to find Zoro who may or may not help you expose whatever metaphorical skeletons this butler had stuffed in his metaphorical closet. Or an actual closet. The possibilities felt endless. 

You weren’t even sure how you were going to explain to him exactly why you were searching for him without sounding like a creep. You would just have to cross that bridge when you came to it. 

You were about to give up trying to locate him because you were pretty sure you’d just passed that same exact clock for the second time in a row. You let out a raspberry as you placed your hands on your hips. Was it plausible you were lost? Inside a ginormous house like this? Yes, it sure as shit was. Maybe you should’ve been dropping breadcrumbs to find your way back to your own room when this was over. 

Rolling your tongue around your mouth, you looked down to your right and realized there were only two more doors left. What could it hurt just to look? You were already down here anyway. 

With a shrug, you moved towards the second to last door near the end of the hall. You weren’t in a rush to check what was behind either one, but you were also not leaving any stone unturned and all that. If your earlier dozen room checks were any indication of what to expect, you were willing to bet that you were going to find absolutely nothing waiting for you. The joy of joys. 

You were just a few feet from the door when you heard the lock click. The sound caused you to stop dead center, facing the door like an absolutely terrified rabbit caught in the headlights. What were the chances that whoever opened that door was going to be Zoro? And what were the chances that he would be willing to listen to what you had to say? 

The possibility of your questions being answered ebbed the panic in your chest down just a tad. Enough that when the door finally opened and Zoro was, in fact, standing before you, you silently thanked the universe for your suddenly award-winning luck. 

That was until you realized he was just standing there. In a robe. A silk robe with his swords slung over his shoulder and because of his current hold on his swords, said robe in question was flashing a peak of his chest. You immediately wanted to take back your previous thank you letter to the universe. 

This should be illegal. 

The worst part? You were pretty positive from the way Zoro was staring at you - his eyes taking you in from top to bottom lord HELP you - he did not seem as impressed with you as you were of him. Why in the hell couldn’t you say a word? Yes, he was attractive - stupidly so - but he was also just another guy. 

A guy in a thin silk robe and hair still damp from a bath. 

You watched as Zoro’s body began to relax, or relax as much as someone like him could. It was when he let out a sigh as if your very presence was keeping him from something important, that you felt your feet remove themselves from their spot in the carpet and spring you forward. 

There was a split second when Zoro’s eyes registered your movement. His eyebrows raised up in surprise as the almond shape of his eyes widened just a tad before he braced for whatever you were about to do. Zoro was planning on an attack and his body was primed to force you back. Instead of violence, he was met with your hands shoving him back inside his room with your foot kicking the door swiftly closed behind you. 

Once you knew you were both securely back inside the room, you stopped shoving him. You waited for your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting of the room before you looked around. It would be embarrassing if you’d done this and someone else - Nami or Luffy or anyone else really - had been inside with him. The only thing you noticed, however, was his previous clothes strewn across the room. 

When your eyes ventured back to Zoro you found his earlier shock replaced by what you could only guess was his usual stonewall expression. 

“Look,” he began the timber of his voice causing you to jump. “You seem nice and all, if not a little disturbed, but I’m not interested.” 

You looked up at him with your confusion knitting your brow together. 

“Not interested?”

You weren’t sure why it took you that long to realize what he meant, but it was dawning on you at warp speed and your confusion was quickly replaced with horror. 

“Oh my god! No, no! I was not trying to like, do anything to you like that.”

The disbelief in his eyes told you plainly he didn’t believe you, and by the tick in his jaw something was bothering him about your statement. 

Shit! He thinks I’m a perv 

You wanted to crawl under the nearest rock and die there. You followed his eyes as they trailed down his chest to find your hands were very much still attached to him, practically groping him. 

“Then why are your hands still on my chest?”

A small squeak of surprise left you as you dropped your hands down to your sides and shook them like it would be enough to get rid of the feeling of cupping his very pronounced…chest. You took a step back from him in hopes that giving him space would save the entire interaction. 

“Sorry about all the ugh…touching,” you mumbled. “But I did come here to speak to you about something.” 

“This is going to be good. Is it to convince me you weren’t trying to grope me?”

“God, you aren’t going to let it go, are you?” 

Closing your eyes you took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. When you finished, you opened your eyes again and gave him the best smile you could muster. 

“Okay, let’s start this again. I,” you motioned towards yourself, “have come to ask you if you noticed anything weird.” 

Zoro cocked an eyebrow at you. His arms moved to lock his arms across his chest somehow exposing the peek of flesh from the robe even more. 

“You mean weirder than right now?”

You purse your lips together tightly as you try to exhale all the annoyance from gathering in your body. 

“Let’s just move on from this moment, ok,” you began. “I came to talk to you about the butler.”

Without warning, Zoro rolled his eyes and dropped his arms from his chest. His swords clanging against his leg reminding you that he wasn’t making any move to set them down anytime soon. 

“Here we go again about the butler,” he groaned, and the very sound shouldn’t have sounded as enticing as it did.

Focus! 

“Oh, save it!” You snapped. “I saw you, okay? The way you looked at Klahadore before you followed your friends inside. You looked at him like you recognized him. Like you’d seen him before somewhere.” 

Zoro regarded you coolly. The hardness that had disappeared while he’d teased you earlier slid back into place until he was as unreadable as stone. 

“I’ve never seen that butler before in my entire life.” 

“Why are you lying?” 

You couldn’t keep the exasperation from your voice or how your desperation was starting to creep back in. Could you have been wrong about Zoro this whole time? Did you just see what you wanted to see?

No. You know what you saw and you were not going to be called crazy. You took a step towards him and weren’t surprised when he didn’t move back. Instead, he tilted his chin, his full pouty lips still very much pouting, as his eyes carefully watched you. 

“You know, that I know, that you looked at that guy and went, ‘hmph, something’s not right there’.” 

Yeah, that felt like a solid argument. 

You waited under Zoro’s cool gaze for him to reply. For him to show any sign of anything, really. He was literally the most unmoving person you’d ever meet, and you were starting to wonder if he was even real. The shitty part about waiting in silence, besides the uneasy commentary your brain was beginning to make, was the smell of the vanilla and sandalwood that wafted off him in mini waves that assaulted your senses. 

You were so intently transfixed by trying to match his unblinking gaze that when he finally moved his head down to be eye level with you, you’d almost jumped out of your skin. 

“Is everything okay with you? Do you suffer from any brain damage?” 

You wish you could say you handled the next few seconds with grace and poise. Things that all upstanding future doctors did when faced with adversity. However, that was most definitely not you, and you weren’t able to keep an exacerbated yell of frustration from cairning past your lips. 

“Oh! You are literally the most infuriating man I have ever met!”

“And you are the most perverted woman I have ever met,” Zoro shot back, this time taking a step towards you. 

If he was trying to intimidate you, he should’ve tried back when you weren’t ready to tear him limb from limb. 

“I beg your pardon?!”

“Who just pushes a semi-naked man into a room so they can grope him?”

“I wasn’t trying to grope you! I was trying to interrogate you for information!”

God, that sounded so much worse. 

“That sounds a lot worse, actually.”

Of course, Zoro would state the obvious, and was he - was he smirking? Your eyes rapidly blinked as you tried to make sense of what you were seeing because as fast as you’d noticed it, that devilish smirk had disappeared. Now Zoro once again looked as serious as before. You began to move back towards the door with your hands up in mock surrender. 

“You know what - fine! If you don’t want to help me, that’s your choice, but you know I’m right. And I’m going to prove that something is wrong here with or without your help.”

You shot one last look in his direction before turning on your heel and giving him your back. You were at the door, your hand on the doorknob when Zoro surprised you with a question of his own. 

“Why ask me to help you?”

Glancing over your shoulder, you expected to see that smug smirk on his face or to get the cold shoulder. What you found instead were eyes so intent on you - waiting for your response - that it caused your lungs to collapse. A million replies played over through your mind, but only one of them mattered. 

“Because out of everyone here, I thought you would believe me the most.” 

It didn’t matter if it was the answer he’d been looking for or the one you thought would win him over. You meant what you said and you hoped he’d felt your admission genuinely. If Usopp didn’t want to believe you, and if Zoro, who you still believed knew or at least felt something was off here, wasn’t going to be able to help you, you would just have to do it yourself. 

Did you know what that entailed? Hell no, but Naan didn’t raise a quitter, and you weren’t going to roll over and just give up just because it was hard. Not when someone’s very life depended on you. 

——————

After your incredible failure of finding a co-conspirator to help you on your quest for answers failed with flying colors, you weren’t exactly sure what to do with yourself. Usopp no doubt must have snuck in by now to see Kaya - sans your “gift” - and the others were probably in the ridiculous closet looking for dinner attire. While you could’ve gone just to socialize with everyone else, Kaya had sent a dress to your room. 

Sham had looked absolutely miserable dropping it off and that was a joy all on its own. 

You considered heading to the closet just to see Luffy again. Luffy radiated optimism like sunshine; at the moment, that sort of unyielding optimism was the mood booster you needed. 

Unfortunately, you knew Zoro must have made his way there by now and you weren’t necessarily ready to face him again. The disappointment was clinging to you and that’s what you hated the most. You didn’t understand why you’d seemingly put all your eggs inside the Zoro basket. Just because he’d looked at Klahadore weird didn't mean he’d sensed something off. 

Shit, Klahadore was weird and deserved every side-eye glance he got. 

All it meant for you was going back to the drawing board for a new plan. One that was going to be able to get you next to Kaya. At least long enough so you could perform some kind of assessment. 

You rounded the corner to what you hoped was the hallway your room was down. The earlier thought you’d had about getting lost turned into an accurate one. You’d spent just as much time trying to get back to your room to get ready for dinner as you had searching for Zoro. 

Zoro.

Even just thinking about him made your jaw clench with fresh irritation. What was more infuriating than your most recent conversation was the fact you could still feel the strength of him in the hollows of your palms. The sharpness of his jaw and the high sculpt of his cheeks- 

No! Absolutely not, you chastised yourself. 

It was maddening how little he believed you - mocked you - and yet, here you were acting like some lovestruck teenager. He wasn’t that handsome. 

You were lost in your thoughts to the point you weren’t aware of your body's attempt to warn you. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end and a sickening feeling began to rot in your gut and made sure all the imaginary - very imaginary - butterflies disappeared. 

The goosebumps that rose along your exposed skin informed you that the grand hallway, filled with all its riches and fine cherry woods was as ice cold as the dead. Has it always been this cold and you just never noticed? Or the eerie silence that made the manor feel more haunted than alive. 

Your feet involuntarily came to a halt in the middle of the hall. You couldn’t explain the panic that was building in your chest, but it felt like you were being watched. Your heart rate sped up until you could practically feel it thundering against your ribs. 

“You are being silly,” you whispered to yourself. “It’s just an old house.” 

“Old houses do have their quirks, don’t they?”

You wish you could say that when Klahadore spoke from behind you, you’d reacted with grace. With dignity. What actually happened was you screamed sharp enough it could raise the dead. 

The whiplash you gave yourself as you turned to face him was dizzying. You wanted to kill the fear that widened your eyes and pressed your brow into your hairline. Your mouth was painfully dry as you took in his presence and the absolute shit-eating grin he wore. 

He enjoyed seeing you afraid. 

“Oh dear, Doc, did I give you a fright?”

Klahadore gently tipped the frame of his glasses with the edge of his palm. You wanted to smack them off his smug face. 

“What do you want, Klahadore?”

You struggled to regain your composure. You refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you afraid. It was what he wanted after all and didn’t take much to notice. He was already trying to close the few inches your retreat had given you. 

“I was simply wondering why you were wandering around the manor. You’ve been showing highly suspicious behavior ever since you and your friends arrived.” 

Your eyes narrowed in on him and as you held your head high. 

“Have you been following me?”

“Oh, come now, don't be silly. To have someone followed means you’re worried about what they’ll find, and you? You are the last thing I would be worried about.” 

Klahadore dropped his head down until he was eye level with you, but somehow used his size to remain imposing. A thinly veiled threat to remind you exactly what he thought of you; nothing. 

The first time you’d ever received an insult from Klahadore had been just like this. Alone and away from anywhere Kaya could hear him. He’d made sure that Usopp and you were together just so he wouldn’t have to repeat the insult twice. 

“I know you two must feel exceedingly special having Miss Kaya ask for you to come keep her company, but I’m afraid this will be the last time you ever come over unannounced or not. We can’t allow her image to be tarnished from being seen with unwanted children.” “Unwanted?” Usopp had been so confused - he knew he was wanted; wanted by Kaya and you. Klahadore saw in that confusion an opportunity to place doubt in his mind and completely tear him apart.  “Yes - unwanted. So unwanted that your father never returned, and your mother chose death as a final way to be rid of you.” “You son of a bitch!” You’d snarled and snapped. You were only kids.  The world had taught you early on about hardships and fairness; how the world and the people in it could lack kindness. But Naan always made you look for the good in the world, and in the people who sometimes allowed the ugliness of others to warp them into someone they weren’t.  It was a concept child you never understood. Teenage you were barely beginning to grasp it, but when Klahadore spoke those words so full of hate and venom at your best friend: there weren’t enough flames left in hell to cover up your rage.

The memory of that day left a black mark on your soul and you find it replaying at the most inconvenient of times. A harsh reminder of the first time you’d ever considered murder as a means of healing. The world would have to be a better place if someone like Klahadore wasn’t in it. Right? 

Naan, as always, talked you down from doing something rash. From allowing someone like Klahadore to have the last laugh and ruin all the plans you had for your life. 

But Naan wasn’t here to talk you off that ledge or to remind you who she knew you were. Your rage shouldn’t define you. Looking at Klahadore’s retreating back, you weren’t all too sure if it wasn’t you because if he ever showed up needing any form of medical attention, you weren’t so sure if he’d leave on his own two feet. 

A body bag would suit him nicely. 

You watched him until he completely disappeared leaving you alone once more inside the hallway. It felt weird to take those first steps back towards your room. To go inside and see the dress Kaya had sent to your room and know you were going to put it on and share dinner with that man standing in the same room. 

There had to be a way to show everyone here exactly who Klahadore was, and you would spend the whole dinner trying to do just that. 

———————

He’d been searching for a drink since his interaction with you back in his room. Zoro wanted to call you crazy - hell you acted crazy enough, but you’d done something he hadn’t expected. 

You’d surprised him.

He didn’t want to admit it then but he did get a weird vibe from the butler. The minute his eyes landed on Klahadore it had sparked a nagging feeling of a memory he just couldn’t quite place. 

And you’d noticed. 

After you’d left his room, he couldn’t shake the conversation you’d forced him to be a part of. Teasing you had been easy. He’d expected you to be a bleeding heart, but as you’d turned to leave, stomping your feet and spitting back words that stung for just a second, it had been Zoro’s turn to notice something about you. 

It was the fire of your determination that piqued his interest.  

While Zoro wasn’t sure why you held such a stick up your ass exactly about the butler, he was positive you had a reason. Besides the fact he couldn’t seem to pull up a clear memory of why the same butler piqued his own interest, and that was beginning to piss him off. 

What was even more annoying was the fact you’d brought it up enough that he’d asked Nami and Luffy if the butler seemed familiar. He didn’t know why he’d asked. If it had been more for him or for you. 

That pissed him off more. 

You seemed to be good at that. Pissing him off and getting under his skin. 

When he came downstairs, Zoro expected you to be there already. A quick glance around the room informed him you weren’t there, but a row of flutes filled with what he hoped was alcohol most certainly was. 

He carefully set down his strap of swords and moved closer to the drinks. No one else made a move towards them and, for a split second, Zoro was worried maybe the flutes were nonalcoholic. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around the delicate crystal and quickly brought it to his lips. 

The smell of the liquor hit him first and his muscles relaxed instantaneously. 

God. This was exactly what he needed. 

“Zoro! You gotta try this!”

Zoro didn’t bother looking because he’d seen the appetizers being served when he came down the stairs. He wasn’t impressed. Plus, if he was going to make it through this evening, he was going to need way more booze than what was inside these little Crystal flutes. 

“I got all I need right here,” he replied and brought the glass up to his lips. 

The first sip erased all the tension that had been binding up his muscles. The next pull from the glass relaxed him completely, and he downed what was left in one giant gulp. He placed the now-empty flute back down on the tray and swiftly grabbed another. 

Zoro was vaguely aware of all the chatting going on around him. The sound of Usopp and Luffy sharing stories and Nami doing whatever it was Nami did during fancy dinner parties. He meant what he said - he did have everything he needed to make it through this dinner inside these glasses. At least, that’s what he thought until the sound of a heel echoing off the step brought his attention to the top of the stairs. 

He was sure the new flute with his latest drink was at his lips. Zoro inhaled the sharp scent of liqueur with every breath he took. He just couldn’t seem to make his elbow bend enough to drop it from his face. 

You were making your way down the staircase, oblivious to the world around you as you came down with a hand carefully placed on the railing. 

The dress you wore was covered in article flowers; all of their small bold colors were bright against the backdrop of black chiffon. The top of the dress left your shoulders exposed, and the style you’d chosen to wear your hair, with beads of pearls intricately placed within each strand, made you seem ethereal. 

You looked like moonlight inside a garden; soft and wild and for the first time Zoro forgot that breathing was important. 

Once you reached the last step, your eyes finally moved up from the safety of your feet. Zoro was vaguely aware the rim of the glass was still resting on his bottom lip, and that he’d yet to take a drink. He felt frozen - helpless - until your eyes found his rooted frame - helplessly waiting - and the smile that curved your lips brightened up the room. 

It was in this second that he realized he was fucked, and the annoyance of that realization was enough for him to finally upend the glass in one large gulp. 

——————

Zoro had looked at you for less than a millisecond before he’d upended the contents of his glass in one large gulp. His disinterest was evident enough throughout his entire body. With one last glance in your direction, he turned back to the waiting tray of glasses. 

Well, that wasn’t the reaction you’d expected. 

The disappointment scraped raw across your chest as you watched Zoro take up another glass. His gaze was steadfast at the wall as he downed whatever was inside. What felt more disappointing was the fact you’d cared. 

For all intents and purposes, Zoro was an asshole. So, it begged the ever-present question: Why did it bother you so much? 

Yes, you’d painstakingly gotten ready around the dress Kaya left inside your suite. Was it your usual taste? You weren’t all that sure, to be honest. It’s not like you’d ever been invited to any fancy dinner parties before. You weren’t sure if this was the proper form of dress or if you’d gone overboard with your hair. 

At least Nami had a feather inside her hair and it looked as if she’d given her blood-orange hair some curls. She looked absolutely gorgeous and you made it your mission to tell her.

“Wow, Doc you look-“ Usopp began. 

You turned beaming towards your friend as you waited for him to acknowledge your hard work. Maybe at least Usopp, of all people, would say something nice. 

“Different.”

You could practically feel your smile deflate at the edges. 

“What did you put in your hair?” Luffy asked around a mouthful of meat. 

“Oh yeah, I was wondering what looked different. It’s the hair,” Usopp confirmed with Luffy. 

The both of them smiled and nodded at one another as if they just solved world hunger. Your tongue rolled around your cheek as you debated on what to say. Maybe you’d expected to much out of a bunch of men. 

“They’re pearls,” you huffed. 

“That’s silly,” Luffy chuckled. “Why would you ever put pearls in your hair?”

“It’s to look nice.”

“I never knew hair needed accessories,” Usopp offered before taking a bit of his appetizer.

“Nami put a feather in her hair,” Luffy offered before taking another bite. “Maybe you guys can talk about putting random stuff in your hair.” 

There was no way this conversation could be real, and yet…

Luffy was still wearing his genuine smile while he and Usopp continued to enjoy the appetizers Sham passed around. This evening was turning out to be the last time you’d ever consider wearing anything like this again. What was even worse was that out of the three of them, Zoro was the only one properly dressed. 

While Usopp went with his usual no shirt underneath his jacket, Luffy was wearing just a petty coat and miraculously found dress slacks that didn’t even reach his ankle. They looked like their usual selves, just dressed in black. 

But Zoro…

No! Absolutely not.

“I’ll go look for Nami so we can discuss…putting things in our hair.”

“That’s great! I’m sure it will make her happy. She seemed frustrated earlier when she asked for help.”

“I can’t imagine why,” you mumbled, as you turned to find Nami speaking to Merry. 

Well, it looked like that was going to be a bust too. Man, she really did look very pretty, though. You were considering what your options were. You weren’t comfortable just injecting yourself into whatever conversation Nami and Merry were having, especially not when she was rubbing his arm like that. 

Luckily for you, the sound of Klahadore announcing Kaya’s entrance kept you from having to go with your final option, which was to get a drink. Next to Zoro. 

You all collectively turned to watch as Klahadore helped Kaya make her way down the stairs. You couldn’t help but smile up at her and her current choice of attire. While she’d made you look like a garden, you could only assume she was the sunshine that hovered above it. The only problem you had with the golden silk material was that it somehow made her sickly pale skin appear paler. 

She must have picked the color in hopes it wouldn’t do that, but all it did was raise the alarm bells in the back of your mind. You’d allowed a pretty dress and a fancy meal to cloud the real reason you’d come in the first place. Instead of being a doctor, you were playing dress-up. 

You were still scolding yourself when Kaya finally made it to the end of the staircase. Her smile was bright and happier than it had been in a long time, as she regarded Nami and the dress she’d chosen. It hadn’t even registered that any of the clothes you currently were wearing belonged to her deceased parents. You made a mental note to make sure to take extra special care not to ruin the dress with any droplets of food. 

“Oh, Doc, I’m so glad I picked this,” Kaya breathed. “You look absolutely magical.” 

You couldn’t help but look down at the dress again. It was an incredibly delicate dress. A work of art to be worn on the body. Maybe that was why you felt like such an imposter wearing it. 

When you looked back at her, you tried to give Kaya a convincing smile. One you could even make yourself believe you felt worthy to have it on. 

“Oh, Kaya you are too nice,” you replied, only for her to shoot you down with a wave of her hand. 

“Nonsense. Usopp is always telling me about all the good you do for everyone. It’s time you let yourself be appreciated.”

Your earlier response to Kaya’s welcoming smile was one of your own, but at the mention of your supposed good deeds, you felt it tighten into a grimace. 

It means nothing if I can’t even help you.

Up close, her color wasn’t pale - it was ashen. The whites of her eyes were devoured with a yellowish tint and - 

Like the parasite he was, Klahadore was there pulling Kaya gently by her elbow to lead her back to the conversation between herself and Merry. Your eyes followed him as he made sure to plant her a few feet in front of you; her back excluding you from following to join. 

Once he made sure she was safely away from you, Klahadore stationed himself a few feet away next to the penguin pillar at the base of the stairs. He thought he was sneaky and that he had stopped your trained eyes from being able to do a quick evaluation.

Unlucky for Klahadore you were quicker than he thought. 

You were getting ready to head over to him when you caught Zoro walking back over to the tray. He was doing his usual of placing down an empty glass only to grab a fresh one, except this time he was talking. To Klahadore. 

What a fucking liar!

You couldn’t think straight as you watched the exchange. The way Klahadore overplayed the flabbergasted victim. You didn’t have to be close to them to know what Zoro was asking him, because just like you’d suspected, he did seem familiar to Zoro. 

It felt like you could breathe fire, you were so pissed. 

At some point, Klahadore ended the conversation by interjecting himself into someone else’s conversation. You didn’t care what it was. They could’ve been discussing flying pigs for all you cared. Your eyes were still honed in on Zoro who regarded you for a split second before he sat back down in the parlor’s middle seat. 

You started making your way towards him when Klahadore called out it was time to eat. You suddenly weren’t hungry. 

Zoro must have sensed you coming for him because in one swift move, he was out of the seat and standing. The strap that held his katana’s back over his shoulder as he followed Sham behind the double doors.

“You son of a-“

“Doc!” Usopp whisper-shouted as he nervously took your hand in his. “Sit next to me. Please.” 

You were still seeing metaphorical red. Your brain firing rapidly on only one main thought and that was to get a hold of Zoro and throttle him. 

It wasn’t Usopp’s fault that Zoro was a dick, and he looked genuinely terrified. Stuffing your current bad mood as far down as you could muster (you were about to see said moss-haired reason for your fowl mood in t-minus two seconds), you planted on a smile and gently took Usopp’s hand. 

“What kind of wingman would I be if I didn’t?”

“Oh, thank god,” he laughed. 

The both of you followed closely behind Merry and the others as you were all escorted inside the dining room. Merry quickly took his seat at the end of the table, and you noticed rather quickly Zoro had claimed the seat closest to the door. 

Without thinking, you took the seat beside him and motioned for Usopp to take the last one. The one directly beside Kaya. For a moment, Usopp looked at you wide-eyed and uncertain. You did your best to make him comfortable. 

“You got this, Usopp,” you whispered. “Don’t overthink it.”

His response came in a small nod that did little to erase the terror that shined in his eyes. You gave his arm a light squeeze for reassurance before you straightened up in the chair. Glancing over, you watched as Zoro poured what looked like a freshly opened bottle of wine into a glass. 

You waited patiently for him to finish and when he went to set the bottle down you made your move. With a slight lean to your right, you swiped your hand out to grab a hold of the glass. Zoro caught the movement too late, but you now had his full attention. His nostrils flaring the only indication that he was irritated by your sudden drink stealing. 

Good. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” He questioned. 

His dark eyes never left your face as he waited for you to answer. 

“Being petty.”

To bring the point home, you tilted the glass in his direction in a silent salute. You made sure he watched as you brought it to your lips and took a sip of the blood-red wine within. 

Zoro’s jaw ticked in irritation as you gave him a devious smirk, and when Sham came by Zoro waved her over. 

“I need a new glass.”

Now the smile that graced your lips was genuine and you made sure Zoro was aware of it. It was time to have a little fun of your own and that included hogging as much of his alcohol as humanly possible. 

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As always, thank you for reading. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

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Taglist:@thegreatesttttttttt @katiemrty @sorasolarium @ponyboys-sunsets @flowersgirl02 @spilled-coffee-cup @instabull @charleslec-airlines @dixonsbugaboo @amanda08319 @moony-artemis @iloveautumn1 @yoheyyosup @ghostyycat7 @csmbrainrot

If I missed tagging anyone please let me know!

#Chaos in Their Bones #ongoing series #one piece live action #opla zoro #roronoa zoro #one piece zoro #op zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #opla zoro x reader #opla #one piece #roronoa zoro fanfiction #opla fanfiction #frenemies to lovers #slow burn #friends to lovers #mutual pining #one piece x reader #one piece x you #reader is referred as Doc

[bidisastersanji]

Circus One Piece AU with sword swallower/knife thrower Zoro and tightrope walker/aerial act Sanji please and thank you

They (and the rest of the crew) grew up in the « Thousand Sunny » circus together:

Sanji’s adoptive dad, Zeff, is the circus cook who always tells a different, wild story about how he lost his leg (it often involves a lion, even though the circus doesn’t use animals in its show, despite its lion logo)

Zoro’s parents both died in an accident when he was young and his relatives (Shimotsuki) took him in. His childhood friend Kuina had an accident and is now a wheelchair user- she handles the circus social media and marketing with Nami

They both have had crushes on each other for years but don’t dare to fo anything because not only what if the other feels the same but what if it doesn’t work out and they have to leave their circus family- so instead they keep bickering and pigtail pulling

I think it’s common for circus performers to have many abilities but specializing in certain things so let’s just assume most of them are good at basic acrobatic/circus things

Sanji is an aerial artist (aerial silks, hoops etc) and tightrope walker and Zoro is good at sword swallowing, stage combat and knife throwing

A lot of the crew are orphans who were adopted into the circus family from many countries the circus has passed through, so they have little accents and have the best time celebrating everyone’s different traditions and holidays

Usopp is a magician, Vivi does diabolo, Franky a strongman, Robin does Trapeze, Luffy is known for his contortionist act but also does some clowning, Ace and Sabo do fire performances, Brook is their communal grandpa in charge of music, Jinbei is the cool dependable uncle in charge of setting everything up to regulation and navigating their caravan where Nami tells them to go

Although she does Chinese pole, Nami is growing up to be the person who’ll take over the circus management/strategy- she wants them to make bank and strategizes on what acts they do, innovative acts and staging they can do etc

Luffy’s dream is for their circus to be the best in the world - they’re already going around different countries but he wants a full international tour, eager to take over after his grandpa (ringmaster) passes it on to him

Chopper is the adoptive son of the troupe doctor (Kureha) who does some equestrian tricks (voltige) but mostly studies hard to be a doctor too. He’s still a kid but everyone is else is an adult

Sanji often gets really distracted by Zoro during practice times- their outfits are revealing and he’s so buff and like what else can he do with his mouth goddamn

He only once called Zoro a « sword swallower » when he was a (still closeted) teen to try and bully his friend/rival but Zoro just grinned at him and said « proudly » and Sanji almost died from that mental image and never used that insult again (he might have gotten a nosebleed)

Naturally Zoro is also dumbstruck by Sanji’s beauty and grace on the regular- and he often gets in trouble for watching Sanji’s act and almost missing cues

The gang always gets into so many shenanigans in every new city they travel to and they love each other so dearly

One day a video of Zoro practicing goes viral (because he’s hot and talented) and Sanji is definitely not responsible for a few dozen views on that video

Zoro always gets a little jealous and annoyed when he finds Sanji flirting with local girls

And that’s all the ideas I have for now! Please feel free to add to this!! I’d love to see what you guys would be fun to have in the circus AU

#zosan #zoro x sanji #zosan fic idea #zosan au #one piece au #circus one piece au #one piece zosan #circus zosan au #aerialist!sanji

[iwantjaketosullyme]

𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞-𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐰┃ᴍ. ᴏ'ʜᴀʀᴀ

➺ pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader (established relationship) ➺ summary: dating miguel may be a double-edged sword, but it certainly has its perks... (w/c: 4.3k) ➺ warnings: quite suggestive, sharp objects? (claws/fangs), allusions to sex, arguing, mention of loss, light cussing a/n: i made the conscientious decision to channel my desire for this man and his claws into a fanfic instead of biting the person closest to me like a rabid dog (i had no choice, it was this or being put down). i hope you like it ! :)

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

The air is charged with the thrumming pulse of energy typical to Nueva York, the daytime’s hustle and bustle replaced with thriving nightlife. At the heart of the futuristic metropolis, the sweeping skyscrapers almost seem to have a life of their own, as their LED displays illuminate the night.

A light, cool wind wafts through the gap of the open window, brushing one of your cheeks while your make-up brush applies blush to the other. The vanity table you’re sitting at is right in front of the window, giving you a perfect view of the city you call home. 

You’re applying the finishing touches to your make-up, humming softly to yourself when you see an unmistakable flash of red in your peripheral vision. Your humming stops. A brief peer outside the window reveals that the red dot is coming closer and closer. Him. With a roll of your eyes and a petulant scoff, you rise out of your seat and walk over to the wardrobe on the other side of the bedroom. 

Your absentminded humming resumes, eyes trailing over the closet rail as you peruse your options. Accustomed to the sound by the numerous times they’ve heard it, your ears register the familiar thwip, thwip of webbing nearing your apartment. You return to the task at hand, determined not to return to the window.

Not that one, too short. You’re only going out for girls’ night, and besides, you’re taken. Metal on metal screeches as you push the dress aside by its hanger. Not that one, not short enough. You shake your head, about to give up when you spot a sliver of silk hiding in the back of the closet. Pulling on it, you single out a dress you don’t remember ever wearing before and conduct a quick appraisal of it. It’s a little silk number with a neckline that will show just the right amount of skin without being too racy. Perfect. 

In the very same moment, a sudden gust of wind whooshes into the room, curtains billowing in the breeze. A broad shadow darkens the spot by the window that you had previously occupied – the same shadow as always. You begin to unhook the dress from its hanger, back half-turned away from him as you choose to take brief peeks at his figure instead of facing him fully.

“Baby?”

Miguel’s deep voice fills the room, powerful timbre reverberating against the walls of the room, and the walls of your heart. You recognise the relief in his voice that comes from seeing you for the first time in two months, but resolve to ignore it. Ignore how the sight of him swinging through the window captivates you, the glossy lustre of his suit catching in the light.

You sense him coming closer, not by the sound of his nimble footsteps, but by the hefty presence of his shadow looming over you. You’ve always laughed at the juxtaposition between his muscular build and his spider-like acrobatics, but tonight, you leave no such room for humour. The past two months without him have been the longest two months of your life, and you aren’t going to let him swoop in and charm you enough to forget the pain of separation you had endured. You make that sentiment clear in your reply.

“And what kind of time do you call this?”

Instead of the apologetic response you desire, you hear two rapid beeps as he activates his wrist device. 

“LYLA, pray tell, what time is it?” His voice is affected with the sardonic tone that you know all too well. The look of concern on your face morphs into one of mild irritation, simmering anger threatening to bubble up to the surface.

“It is currently twenty-one hundred hours!” The female A.I. chirps obediently. Since when did she follow orders?

“You heard her,” he states pointedly, “nine o’clock.”

“Well, actually, it’s 21:01 now-” LYLA chimes in again. With an annoyed grunt, Miguel wastes no time slapping his wrist and deactivating the device, effectively silencing her. Atta girl, you think. At least one of us can get a reaction from him. Clearly, your passive-aggressive greeting didn’t do the trick. 

In the earlier stages of your relationship, when your romance was only tentative and his shadow at your windowsill never guaranteed, you would’ve kept your feelings to yourself. You’d greet him with open arms (and open legs), a smile veiling your displeasure. Back then, you were just happy to see him again. His snarky remarks always betrayed the mask of stoicism he tried to uphold, and you’d do anything to hear another – you never knew if it would be the last. 

As strong as he was physically, his aversion to speaking about the matters of the heart showed you that he was emotionally fragile in the same measure. Best not to rock the boat, you figured. Enjoy his company now and mourn his absence later. But months of hiding your true emotions had taken their toll on you.

“I’m being serious, Miguel.” You step into the dress, tugging it on as you talk. “You were gone for two months.” You swivel round to face him, noting that his holographic mask has disappeared to reveal his angular face, all sharp lines and harsh shapes. You look directly into his eyes as you hold two fingers up in front of his face. “Two!”

“Yeah, I can count, thank you,” he sasses back, unperturbed.

You pinch the bridge of your nose with your thumb and two forefingers as you breathe through your nostrils in an avid attempt to regulate your rising temper. The lethal combination of his cool composure and his dry quips never fails to irritate you as much as it amuses you.

“Look,” your eyes narrow, “I don’t want to hear your witty jokes.” You sense another annoying rebuttal from him as he opens his mouth so you backtrack quickly. “I mean I do, because I want you here with me, but I don’t want to hear them right now when you’re meant to be apologising!” Your voice breaks involuntarily as your emotions betray you. If there was any chance of your facade still being intact, it was gone now.

Speaking of facades, it had taken time to unmask the real Miguel O’hara. The Miguel who would talk your ear off about his nerdy new gadgets, the Miguel whose snores could rival a grizzly bear’s, the Miguel who could – and would – eat a dozen empanadas in one sitting (even though they were so bad for his fitness regime). 

The Miguel, who was also Spiderman.

It was for this reason, that a certain part of you was wary of scaring him away with your feelings. It was so glaringly obvious that it had been a while since he’d been vulnerable with someone and had a connection as intimate as yours. Since he’d allowed himself to have a connection as intimate as yours. As time progressed and feelings reached new depths, he’d let you see past his meticulously-crafted persona as Nueva York’s guardian. 

Bit by bit and little by little, he’d given you glimpses into just how heavily the burden of being the city’s sole saviour weighs on those heavy-set shoulders of his. Each time, you had shown nothing but love, support and understanding. How he responded to you baring your heart to him now would tell you whether or not that was reciprocated.

His eyebrow quirks up in surprise, large hands coming up to sit on his hips as he tries to decipher what it is you’re saying. Well, might as well tell him everything, you suppose. “Every night that you were gone I would sit at that window,” you both look at the window he had come through not too long ago, “and wait for you.” 

Eyes of red pierce you where you stand with your arms crossed over your front, clutching the untied dress up to your body. 

“I didn’t know if you were even still-” Your breath hitches as a lump grows in your throat. You duck your head, taking a moment to recollect yourself and willing your voice not to break this time as you force the words out. “If you were even still alive.”

Burly arms engulf you, enveloping you in his warm embrace. “Shh…tranquilo baby, tranquilo.” The depth of his baritone voice soothes you as he rocks you from side to side, calming you down. “Hey, look at me…I’m fine.”

A gloved hand comes up to rest on the back of your neck, secure grip guiding your head up from where it had settled between his pecs. He tilts your head back to meet his gaze, half-lidded from looking down at you. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about that, you’ll get a migraine.” 

He leans in til your noses brush each other’s. “Then I’ll be the one stuck fixing you up.” He shakes your head lightly, bringing a reluctant smile to your face. You love your playful grump of a boyfriend. 

“Forget about the past. Let’s focus on you and me, right here, right now, hm?”

With a bashful nod, you hum your affirmation and return your head back to his chest. No more girls’ night for you. You’d rather spend the night with your favourite pair of girls instead, you think, as you press the side of your head further into Miguel’s sizable pecs and give one of them an appreciative squeeze. Damn, have they gotten even bigger since he left?

Temporarily distracted by Miguel’s honeyed words, you take this moment to recommit his features to your memory. You bask in the easy comfort of being in the presence of your person, and surrender to its lull. A curious hand lifts one of his gloved hands to your face, lolling it about, and you get lost in your thoughts as you observe just how big it is compared to yours. 

Watching you closely, Miguel notices that your gaze has not once strayed from his hands; more specifically, the tips of his fingers. Where his claws would be. Pointed canines gleam in the light as he smirks to himself, amused.

Suddenly, you hear the shing of his claws extending, metallic sound piercing the still air and cutting through your thoughts. The sharp, pointy tip winks at you, and you gasp as you are hypnotised, transfixed by it. You can feel yourself almost going cross-eyed from your laser-focus on it, so with a satisfied – and slightly delirious – sigh, your eyelids flutter shut to stave off the dizziness. You snuggle further into Miguel, leaning into the hand that cups the side of your neck. His warmth seeps into the sinews of your muscles and you relax into his touch.

You’re not expecting it when your eyes are prompted back open by the sharp pinch of his talon pressing into the plush of your bottom lip. It brings you back into the present and claws you back from the recesses of your mind that you had retreated to, chill against your skin contrasting the previous warmth and shocking your system. When your eyes meet his, they find them already trained on your face with a questioning gaze – are you okay now?

The concern splayed on his face reminds you of why you had to be placated in the first place, and just like that, you are snapped from your blissful reverie. You avoid his gaze, separate yourself from him and choose not to answer his question, one of your own on the tip of your tongue.

“So,” you clear your throat, eyebrows drawing together. “Why exactly did this mission take so long, then?”

“Come on baby,” he chuckles, but you can tell by the twitch in his jaw that you’re starting to get on his nerves. “You don’t really want me to bore you with the specifics, do you?” 

You do not respond. Assuming that the conversation is over and he’s been successful in persuading you, he leans down to go in for a kiss. He’s in for a surprise when you turn your head softly in indignation, unwilling to put the matter to rest.

“Well, what if I do?” You finally find your words; arguing with someone like him whose authority usually goes unquestioned is no easy feat. “I need an explanation at least, if I’m not going to get an apology. I mean, what’s so big of an emergency that you have to leave me for two months with no warning?!”

The lines of his face that had softened for a time become rigid and harsh again, hardened expression devoid of any of its previous mirth. 

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

Your body stills at his words. While you are disappointed, you cannot say that you are surprised. Although he has shared his identity as a vigilante with you, a great deal of his hero affairs are still kept private from you. Miguel doesn’t let you in on the intricacies of what he does, but you suppose you shouldn’t expect any less from the leader of an elite strike force with a whole arachno-humanoid-poly-multiverse to protect.

Not that you’re supposed to know about any of that, of course. 

“Okay,” you relent, feigning resignation. “Let me hazard a guess.” 

He cocks an eyebrow and waits for you to continue.

“There’s some kind of threat on the loose that could cause the end of the world as we know it, and you’ve been off on some kind of righteous, multiversal crusade to save us all from impending doom!”

A moment passes. The silence is loud. 

Despite being thrown off by your disturbingly accurate description of his activities, Miguel quickly masks his shock. Stubborn as always, he acts as if he did not hear you and brushes you off with a stern “It’s classified. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You don’t know what you’re talking about? You scoff internally, stare shifting to the wooden floorboards. Super-senses be damned, Miguel is not as slick as he thinks he is – how else would you have found out about the secret Spider Society, if not for his carelessness? Some days before he’d left, in the dead of night when he thought you were asleep, you heard snippets of his conversations with his spider-counterparts. Something about anomalies and canon events. Direct orders whispered aggressively into his comms device. His word was absolute and final, clipped tone leaving no room for negotiation. This is the first time he’s using it on you, though. 

Finding out about secrets he’d kept about his work life had made you wonder about his personal life too. He’d never told you much about it, and his typically curt responses become even shorter when you tried to pry. What you do know, is that it has left a sense of melancholy that enshrouds his being. It deepens the furrow of his brow and lingers in the steely, guarded glint in his eye. But entwined with that melancholy is a certain magnetism, something electric and yet tangible, distinct and yet enigmatic. It glows red like the laser of his webs, like the colour of his eyes when he is lost in the throes of passion. Right when you think you’ve got it in your grasp, it evades you, smooth and fluid like his ducking and weaving in the midst of a fight. He was just as much in your reach as he was elusive.

And judging by what he says next, nothing’s going to change anytime soon.

“Look,” he instructs you, placing a guiding hand on your cheek and redirecting your focus onto him. “I came here to tell you that I’m gonna be gone for a while.”

You shoot him a deadpan look. He sighs and corrects himself. “A longer while. There’s something I have to finish.” 

“Ha!” You let out a sarcastic laugh. “Something you have to-” The frown on your face deepens further. “You know what, nevermind.”

Frustrated by his cryptic words, you secure your hold on your dress and march over to the mirror. You can hear him grumbling to himself but don’t bother paying him any mind. Looks like girls’ night is back on. Who does he think he is, telling you nothing and expecting you to give everything up for him? Your time, your energy – your love?

As you rage internally, you fumble with the ties at the back of the dress, twisting and turning as you try to tie them yourself.

“You want some help with that?”

“...” 

For once, you decide, you’ll give him a taste of his own medicine. Let him be on the receiving end of his typical bull-like stubbornness and see if he likes it. The eye that twitches at your lack of response gives you your answer.

“Oh, okay, you’re just gonna keep struggling.”

“...”

“The silent treatment? Really? Sooo mature.” The irritation in his voice is almost tangible, and you secretly revel in it. In the reflection of the mirror, you can see him standing with his hand on his hip that’s jutting out; he’s clearly not enjoying being ignored. You hold back a petty snicker. Serves him right.

After a few more moments of you jerking about with your elbows akimbo and nose scrunched up in concentration, you succeed. In your current vulnerable emotional state, you can’t help but be pleased with yourself for doing it without his help. You don’t need him, really.

Your victory, however, is incredibly short-lived. While admiring your reflected figure in the mirror, you notice that the price tag is still attached to the dress. In the one spot you really couldn’t reach. Damn it.

“...help me get the tag.”

“Huh?” Miguel feigns ignorance, the cheeky bastard. “I didn’t get that, could you speak up a little?” He’s going to make you regret ever trying to one-up him.

“I said, could you help me get the tag?” He doesn’t move an inch. “Please?!”

He huffs in what you assume to be approval. Instead of grabbing the pair of scissors that are on the vanity like you expect him to, he walks over to you with that cocky saunter of his, purpose in his steps. A large hand splays itself on your shoulder, and you feel the snag of his talon on the tag as he tears it off with unsettling precision.

“Thank you,” you mutter under your breath.

You try to pull away from him, but his hand on you coasts along your shoulder until it finds your neck, again. You start to squirm, but his grip on you is firm and unyielding.

Your gazes lock in the mirror and you can feel the tension rising like the blood rushing to your face right now.

“You look…yummy.”

Yummy? What would be more fitting, is a statement like ‘wow, my love, seeing you in this dress has me thanking the gods for the gift they have bestowed upon me, lowly mortal that I am’, or a simple ‘you look hot’. Of all the words to describe the absolute vision of beauty that you are in this dress, he chooses the same one that could be used to describe a burger, or something. Maybe all those gains are getting to his brain. 

Your internal lament is interrupted by the flexing of his fingers. He tightens his grip on your neck to focus your attention on him, the column of your neck fitting snugly into the mould of his palm – you have nowhere to go.

You know that your boyfriend was never one to miss a detail, a characteristic further enhanced by his spider mutation. A true man of science, Miguel never strayed far from his training – in his mind was a catalogue of each and every one of the reactions he had seen displayed on your face and the actions he had performed to elicit them. Observe, record, review. Every caress, every pull, every squeeze. By now, he had perfected his method; a fact that would usually make your skin buzz with anticipation now makes your stomach pool with dread.

Even when you know he’s about to use his charm on you, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Not that you’d want to, really.

His claw trails down your décolletage, leaving a light sting in its wake that’s equal parts pleasant as it is painful – your favourite kind of balance and he knows it. It teeters on the edge of your limit, gentle enough not to draw blood but harsh enough to draw out a dull pain that makes your heart thrum with excitement. You know that with his enhanced hearing there is no doubt he can hear it beating like the wings of a hummingbird, the poor organ struggling to pump enough oxygen around your body to keep you from panting like a dog under his intense scrutiny. Your suspicions are confirmed by the smug huff he lets out, puff of his breath wafting over your face and pricking your skin with goosebumps.

You let out a shaky exhale. Your chest sticks out as your lungs expand with air again, pushing his claw further into your skin so it digs deep enough to leave an imprint. The extended talon continues on its titillating trip down the smooth expanse of your skin, your eager body betraying your mind by keening towards him. It is no stranger to his wily charm, much used to his teasing touch being a promise of what is soon to come.

No, you remind yourself. You are angry. The sole claw lowers further, dipping into the v shaped slit that your dress’ neckline leaves exposed. He pulls at the gathered silk, applying enough pressure that it tugs at the ties holding the dress together on your frame, your sloppily-done knot threatening to come loose and bare even more of your skin for his greedy eyes to devour. He locks eyes with you again and raises a single eyebrow, a silent question. Your breath hitches in anticipation, but you keep your head up, chin raised defiantly. Still angry.

He massages your shoulders, large hands that have been made rough with work kneading the stiffness out of them. Your eyes shut against your will and you are so caught up in his relaxing ministrations that you don’t remember the point in which his titan frame swallowed yours up in a back hug.

You feel the rumble of a snarl bubble up in his chest, vibrations travelling from his being into yours. He leans down, hooks his chin onto your shoulder and playfully bites at the air beside your ear, a non-verbal attempt at coaxing you back into conversation. 

For a man like him who is rarely given to mirth, it is moments like these that you cherish, when he’s all bite and no bark in the best of ways. The clack sound of his venomous fangs coming together makes you recoil reflexively, but you cannot deny the thrill the sound incites in you. You shudder in excitement. Against your better instincts, the thought that he has the power to do with your life what he will but chooses not to is part of his allure. It stimulates the adrenaline that surges through your veins like a live current, dangerous and deadly. 

“Good girl.” He affirms your submission, so you try to take a step backwards so as not to give into his playful persuasions. Alas, your resistance only delivers you further into his clutches. 6 foot – nearly 7, he would correct you – of hunk keeping you in your place, where you belong. Safe, and in his arms.

With an effortless tug, he pulls you towards the bed where you both collapse in a heap. The pair of you are a tangle of limbs, so that you cannot move without moving him, and he cannot move without moving you. Your bodies are in sync, now all that’s left is your hearts.

When you begin to drift off to sleep – shouting matches are actually rather exhausting – the tickle of his soft breathing over your face wakes you.

“I lost something dear to me.” You open one eye, urging him to continue. “Someone,” he corrects, “dear to me.” 

This grabs your full attention, and now you are wide awake. The moment you’d given up hope, was the moment he’d decided to open up the window of his heart to you. Let the cool breeze of your love enter.

“I don’t always like what I have to do, but I know I have to be the one to do it.” His eyes are earnest, but his gaze is soft. Touched by his honesty, you place a tender palm on the plane of his cheek and stroke it up and down. “I’ve given up too much to stop now.” 

Never have you heard a voice so heavy-laden with grief. 

“Baby-” you start.

“You know I’d never want to hurt you, right?” He cuts you off. He whispers it into the shell of your ear and noses at the skin of your neck, feeling the hum that you let out. 

He leaves a trail of kisses from the base of your throat to your neck as if urging the words to spill out from you. 

“Do you forgive me?” You are quick to find his eyes, placing your hands on his impressively-large pecs. Should any one person be allowed to have so much chest?!

“Oh,” you put on an act of sudden realisation. “I forgave you as soon as you swung through that window, big boy.” You reach up to grip his chin and pull his face down to yours, taking in the perplexed look on his face as he attempts to connect the dots. “I just wanted to make you work for it.”

For the second time tonight, you see an unmistakable flash of red, this time in his eye.

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

☼ 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵:

@heirtothekingdom , @lanasblood

𝘭𝘮𝘬 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰/𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 <3

© iwantjaketosullyme tumblr 2023

#✦•·.· 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘴 ·.·•✦ #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fic #miguel x you #miguel o'hara #miguel x y/n #spiderman x reader #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderverse fanfic #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara fanfiction

[legend-of-thyme]

Today is @ikaishere 's birthday (at least in my time zone, and I know I'm barely squeaking it in here) and tomorrow is mine. I borrowed the modern AU boys to write some sibling fluff and GrooZeLink. Hope you had a great birthday!!!

---------

“What do you guys think? The feather earrings or the swords?” Sky turns his head side to side critically eyeing his reflection in the mirror.

“Personally I think you should worry more about finding some pants first,” drawls Wars from where he’s sprawled over bed without even looking up from his phone. “Sun and Groose might not mind your ratty old pajama shorts, but the restaurant will probably have some objections”. 

Sky flops backwards into a pile of laundry with a groan earning himself an indignant squeak from Wind. 

“Sky!” he complains, snatching up one of his hands before he can run it through his hair. “You’re going to ruin my masterpiece” 

“Sorry, sorry,” he replies, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. “At least my nails will look nice even if I have to go dressed in a burlap sack”. Wind beams and he can’t help but smile. The kid did a good job on the nails, even forgoing his usual favorite neon oranges for a softer shade of blue coated in white crackle.

Warrior’s eye roll is nearly audible. “Don’t be dramatic. Didn’t you buy a skirt for tonight just last week?”

“That was before I knew we were going indoor skydiving between the escape room and dinner! I have to bring a change of clothes and if I put it in my bag it will get all horrible and wrinkly.”

Wind pokes through one of the discarded piles of shirts, picking things up to examine them before tossing them to the side. “Just wear your date jeans. It’s your birthday. Shouldn’t you just wear what you like?”

Sky pouts. Wind is right of course, but it’s the principle of the thing. He has plenty of clothes that hit the sweet spot of being comfortable while also making him feel confident and attractive, but he’s hoping for more tonight. Something to really wow his partners. There’s a warmth that curls through his chest whenever Groose gives him a slow once over and a low whistle, or when Sun reaches out to trace the pattern of his shirt or play with a bit of lace or tassel that he would bottle and keep forever if he could. And maybe War’s is right and he is being a little dramatic, but that warmth is going to be his birthday present to himself if he has to turn his closet inside out to get it. 

A balled up sock hits him in the head, breaking him from his thoughts. He looks around in time to seek Wars drop his phone on the bedside table and swing to his feet. 

“Do you trust me?,” he asks, smiling.

“A terrifying question,” Wind mutters under his breath and Sky can’t help snorting a laugh into his fist as Warriors sticks his tongue out at their youngest brother, dignity forgotten. 

“I would trust Wild at this point if it gets me to my date on time”.

“All right then,” Wars cracks his knuckles with a grin. “Grab your date jeans. We’ll pair them with Sun’s old band shirt she did that diy fringe on”.

“The ‘without music life would B♭’ one? Are you sure?” Sky frowns as Wind begins searching. 

“Very. The stupid pun makes you smile and it shows a little skin,” Wars nods and circles him slowly as he pulls on the clothes. “The purple silk scarf would make a cute belt and if you promise not to scuff them I’ll lend you my jacquard docs”. He nods, satisfied. “It’s going to get cold tonight so you should top it off with Groose’s old leather jacket you stole when he wanted to get rid of it”. 

Sky spins slowly, getting a feel for the outfit and letting Wars examine his work before turning to the mirror. It’s comfortable and easy to move in and the shoes and belt make it feel special enough for a date outfit. Wind clambers up onto the bed behind him and swiftly does up the clasp to a necklace before jumping down to hug onto his side. He reaches up and smiles softly as he feels the familiar iris brooch.

“There,” Wars returns his smile and ruffles Wind’s hair. “Now you look perfect”.

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

“Sky!” Sun calls, rushing across the parking lot to pull him down for a kiss before leaning her head on his shoulder and tangling her fingers in the beaded tassels of his shirt. “We were starting to worry you’d fallen asleep or something.”

He sticks his tongue out at her and hugs her tighter, admiring the way she looks with his old fuzzy green sweater hanging off one shoulder. “And miss my perfect birthday date? Never. I bet Legend we could beat the escape room’s record time”. 

Butterflies erupt in his stomach even as he teases her, reminding him of the early days of his crush.

“Well, well, well,” Groose saunters more slowly across the lot, hands shoved in his pockets. “I never thought I’d see the day, but I think you wear that jacket better than I ever did”. He pulls Sky in to kiss him, once on the lips and once on the forehead, before holding him at arms length and whistling slowly. “I like the different earrings”. 

The different– Sky’s hands fly to his ears and, sure enough, he’s still wearing one feather earring and one sword. “Yeah,” he says, doing his best to sound casual and knowing he’s failing, “I wanted to try something new”.

Groose smiles down at him knowingly as Sun bursts into laughter. He can feel his cheeks reddening and desperately searches for a change in subject. “What about you?” he asks Groose, gesturing at his too tight plaid shirt. “You look like you’re about to burst out of that thing? Where did you even get–”

He cuts himself off and looks at the shirt again. “Wait. That’s my shirt.” He looks between them, baffled as Sun begins to grin and Groose looks sheepish and almost nervous. “Are you both wearing my clothes?”

“We thought it might be fun to match,” Groose admits, embarrassed. “You’re wearing our things”.

“It was Groose’s idea,” Sun nods enthusiastically. “And I told Wars to text us what you picked out. Did you really change your outfit six times?”

Warmth blazes through Sky’s chest as he looks at his partners. It’s such a fun idea and the sort of thing he would normally suggest. The sort of thing other people had teased him for in the past. They put so much effort into today and they did it all for him. His mouth opens and closes and he finds himself at a loss for what to say. What words could possibly be enough?

Sky swallows the lump in his throat and beams at them as hard as he can. “I really love you guys, you know?”.

#ika's modern au #lu sky #lu wind #lu warriors #lu sun #lu groose #groozelink #you always seem to have so much fashion fun #drawing isn't really my thing #but i thought id try writing some

[aurumacadicus]

If you still want titles & pairings... how about Vainglorious with Starkbucks? (I love your writing & fics so so so much & i hope you're having a really good day)

I had to look up what this meant lmao. Thanks! You too!

Vainglorious

"This is your own fault, you know?" Bucky asked, picking through a bunch of flowers before he found a pretty hibiscus. He popped the entire thing into his mouth.

"Gross, you're supposed to suck the--" Tony began, but apparently he thought better of it, because he just shook his head and turned away.

Bucky plucked out a lily and took a bite out of one of the petals. "You're the one who thought it would be a good idea to tempt the fae," he continued, unperturbed.

Tony scowled. "I wasn't trying to tempt the fae. That's poisonous."

"Not to me," Bucky replied, shrugging. He turned to look over at the closet, where Steve was apparently packing all of Tony's clothes into a satchel that looked like it could only fit one shirt. "Doll, did Tony tempt us?"

"Of course he tempted us," Steve scoffed, beginning to wad up a silk shirt, which Tony squawked and snatched from him. He blinked at Tony, unimpressed, then reached in to grab another shirt to shove into the bag. "Walking through our circle, dressed in fine clothes, calling us assholes when we wouldn't let him leave--"

"Most people," Tony said loudly, shoving himself between Steve and the opening to his closet. He snatched the second shirt away from him. "Do not find being called an asshole attractive! Fucking cut it out, you brute, you're going to ruin all my clothes--"

Steve blinked at his empty hands, then looked back up at Tony, raising an eyebrow. "It's novel. People normally try very hard not to insult the fae."

"You deserve it and more!" Tony exclaimed, then slapped Steve's hand away from his diadem. "Don't touch that."

"We'd make you a better one," Steve huffed, sulking away from his closet. "Something grand, maybe, with gold and sapphires."

"Rubies," Bucky corrected, taking another bite of lily.

Tony hovered in front of his closet a moment longer, just to make sure Steve wouldn't dart back over when his guard was down, then grabbed the satchel to upend it. Half of all the clothes he owned came tumbling out.

"Be careful. I store spells in there," Bucky said, smirking when Tony immediately flipped the bag back upright.

"Put you in prettier clothes, too," Steve mused, eyes going dark and speculative. "Silks, and satins... some lace, maybe..."

"Ooh, lace!" Bucky agreed. He handed Steve the bouquet that some prospective beau had sent Tony. "Try the hibiscus. It's good."

Steve plucked one out. "Don't mind if I do."

"Stop eating my proposal gifts," Tony hissed, rushing over to snatch the vase out of Bucky's hands.

Steve and Bucky just frowned at him, unimpressed. "You don't need any proposals," Steve said. "You've promised yourself to us."

"I didn't know I was promising myself to you, you crafty bastards!" Tony exclaimed angrily. "And it won't even work! My country needs an heir." He frowned at them and hoped it didn't show any disappointment, because in other circumstances, he would have loved a roll in the hay with them. "You two don't really have the necessary parts."

"We can get you an heir," Bucky promised. The filthy grin on his face and spark of magic over his fingers didn't really leave a lot of questioning as to how.

Tony blinked at him slowly, disbelieving, then raised the vase over his head and threw it at him as hard as he could.

Steve caught it, but they both got splashed with water and slapped with flowers. "Okay, look, maybe we should talk about this," he offered hastily when he noticed Tony stomping over to where his other proposal gifts were. One of them looked like a sword.

"Maybe we should talk about this," Tony repeated, voice mocking, before he found the sword and grabbed it up.

"God damn it why are we so attracted to assholes," Bucky huffed, scrambling out of the way as Tony lunged toward them with a furious scream.

#ask meme #fic title meme #stuckony

[izzystizzys]

steddyhands soulmates brainworm where in some magical post-canon (maybe s1? s2?) timeline the revenge is boarded by (gasp) actual capable pirates

izzy isn‘t up on deck when it happens, which is how it happens in the first place, and quite frankly he had a bad feeling about dropping anchor this close to port (insert past blackbeard shenanigans that turned him grey a good decade before anyone else) but when does anyone ever listen to his years of experience and expertise on this clown boat anyways

and. ok interlude. obviously they’re soulmates. obviously izzy has said nothing about it. he’s a fucked up little man with the selfesteem of a wet limpet this is selfexplanatory. obviously ed and stede are Eyeing him, but stede’s too repressed to say anything about it and ed’s too unwilling to admit he’s a very similar brand of fucked up to do much about it.

so. back to the program. even izzy cannot fight a whole entire crew - given that it is both the size it should be for a ship twice as large as the revenge and actually trained, go figure. does he still try? absolutely. everything comes screeching to a halt when someone gets a gun aimed at black pete’s head though, and they’re all rounded up on deck. there is no getting out of this one, izzy knows - he’s been on the other end of this too often not to. he wonders which one they’ll kill first, maybe fang or ivan to make a point, they’re on the stronger end of the crew -

“well well, what have we here?” the captain says, stopping in front of izzy with a leer that would usually see him relieved of one of his hands. he lifts the sharp edge of his sword to izzy’s neck, tracing the edges of the swallow izzy is cursing himself for putting in such a visible spot. “the polite thing to do here seems to inform you for the sizeable bounty on your head, hands.”

izzy sneers out a get fucked, and realizes several things at once: 1, edward cut off his beard just a week ago last, and is currently lounging in the last silk robe onboard. 2, bonnet has not a single frippery left in his closet, and has been forced into the man’s equivalent of torture (sensible clothes). 3, there’s no way charlie vane, who’s currently backhanding him to the ground, didn’t recognize at least edward.

and, 4: it may have been a mistake leaving the man to die of starvation and also marooning three years ago. obviously he can hold a grudge. should’ve shot him and be done with it.

this, izzy thinks as he’s manhandled over to where they’ve set up a plank to cross to vane’s ship, is where on the queen anne, the crew would’ve jumped into one of blackbeards ingenius rescue plans. scratch that, on the queen this would’ve never happened because the people are competent. the revenge’s crew is just shouting a lot and- whoa, he’s upright again.

vane is still smiling, the unsettling fucker, when he circles izzy’s gloved wrist with iron pressure. “you know”, he says, conversationally, “i’ve always wondered, about your mark.” cold fingers slide the glove off his hand, roll up his sleeve. izzy tries to squirm away from it, tries to throw his head back and break someone’s nose, but this is not pirate playgroup - this is a group of actual competents, a fact he curses silently as the mark is exposed to open air, a perfect match for his captains’. there’s a sharp chorus of gasps and then horrible silence that izzy cannot face, closing his eyes instead.

“hm”, vane says, “thought so.” and then pain explodes at the back of izzy’s head, and the world really does fade away.

#steddyhands #ofmd fic idea #charlie saw izzy washing years ago and instantly decided to hold on to Sensitive Information #the prick (justified??) #i lovr izzynapping fics and i think he should get to damsel a bit (he will rescue himself while the revenge is still figuring out rigging) #izzy hands exists at the crossroads of pathetic little meow meow and only competent person for miles to me #ed and stede staring at each other: what the fuck #stede: did you know??? how did you not know??? you were married for twenty years!!! #ed: we were MARRIED??? #that bit will never stop being funny #having to contend with the fact that you’re head over heels for your best friend/worst enemy #oh no he’s hot! (true love edition) #oh no he’s also kidnapped and about to be hanged! (no clickbait) #they try to pull off a daring rescue only to find izzy lounging by the revenge holding charlie vane at gunpoint back on deck #he is after all the only competent person for miles #do they get their shit together or does izzy lalalala i cant hear what youre saying hands refuse to accept their love right away? #who knows all i know is i want them to schlonk it silly style after cringefailing out of rescuing izzy #increasingly unhinged tags warning

[fantomette22]

The way belts are wrapped around King's of Cainhurst legs first reminded me of Ancient Greek warriors, but then some depiction of Merovingian warriors came to mind as well. Do you have an idea what was the inspiration behind that type of shoes and leg wraps? Also do you think he was fighting with the spear or with the sword? Several cancelled models still exist in the files so I dunno

Oh very interesting ask! Thanks anon! I see I am the person people ask about the king of Cainhurst. I am the reference I did it!

Hm well first I thought you were talking about the belts around the hunters legs but I figured afterwards you were just talking about the king(s) cut models.

In cut content there is actually the "King in blue", that I consider to be the closet thing to what king of Cainhurst was supposed to look like.

But there is also the 3 variants of the "king ghost low class".

The "low classes" would have potentially be ennemies or bosses for the chalice dungeons. One have a sword & shield, one a spear like you mentioned and one a sword and euh.. magic orb? I guess they could fit have potential old kings of Pthumeru and pthumerians 👀

Now for the shoes and leg warps :

I did ask some friends to help me (thanks @val-of-the-northand @katyspersonal 🫡) But mostly it does look like ancient civilisation shoes (especially for the king low class)

For me I would say for the king low class it looks like spartiate (yes like the grec from Sparte (Ve century before J.C.) but they were apparently invented in Egypte 14 century ago. So yes ancient civilisation type of choose.

there is the roman Caligae who looks similar as well.

And like you point out, Mérovingien and francs, (Ve (5) century wear that kind of thing as well! And I completely forgot. My history classes from medieval age are from to long ago sorry)

Bonus my boy Wander from shadow of the colossus seems to wear some kind of spartiate as well ❤️

Now for the "king in blue" shoes, my friend pointed out it could look like a calceus. Romans bronze shoes

Personally I think it could just be a typical XVII-XVIII century shoes with white silk stocking. Like on many 17th and 18th century nobles and citizen (have a few little exemples) :

-Louis XIV en costume de sacre, Hyacinth Rigaud, 1701.

-Portrait en pieds en Louis XV, VANLOO Louis-Michel, around 1760.

-Portrait d'apparat de Louis XVI, Antoine François de Callet, 1779.

----

I am just putting here 3 beautiful exemples but there is so many . And not just kings, you can see that on lot of illustration for the noble and wealthy class. Some wear that instead of trousers.

For the weapons now he seems to have in the file a great sword/zweihänder I think you call it in English (espadon en français). My personal headcanon is that he actually had and used Logarius' sword. That is probably of pthumerian origins. And the executioner took it after killing him 😔 But it's a headcanon.

#bloodborne #bloodborne cut content #history #references #bloodborne references #king of cainhurst #bloodborne headcanons #my asks #anon asks

[two-white-butterflies]

coaxed you into paradise

Chapter Twenty-Two: Always By Your Side Description: Saera Targaryen was her father's forgotten daughter. Years following her marriage with Ser Harwin Strong, she catches him in an affair with her sister and seeks solace in the arms of her uncle. Not realizing that the consequence of their affair is just as dire as her sister's. masterlist

<<previous chapter

SAERA FELT WEAK — like a grave sickness fell upon her. She looks at herself from the mirror, gently combing her hair and preparing for sleep. Daemon enters the room, and she turns her head lightly — catching a wisp of his white hair. He takes a step towards her, his muddied booth pattering against the wooden floor. He halts behind her, wrapping his pale arm around her and encasing her in a warm embrace. 

"Where is Daelon?" she questioned weakly as he placed the Dark Sister atop the closet. "I gave him to Aemond," he replies as he laid down on the bed. The bandage on his left arm was long forgotten, and thrown aside. "You removed the bandage" she scolds as a chuckle escapes from his lips. Saera was gorgeous when she worried about him. 

"How else would I slap Aemond?" he joked remembering the encounter from early on. She groans as she sits beside him, the bed bouncing from both of their weight. Daemon was reckless and he didn't care for himself. Others believed that he only pursued self-interest but they couldn't be more wrong. She places a piece of his hair behind his ear, watching as he smiles lightly. 

"I worried for you last night." she admitted as she lays down beside him, allowing peace for the both of them. "I'm a strong boy, jorrāelagon. You love Strong boys, don't you? (love)" he hums as he turns to his side and wraps his arms around her. She found her hands gently massaging his head, and playing with his silver locks. "I miss your short hair." she muttered as he laughs. 

He missed it too. 

"Don't tempt me to cut it," he warns as his eyes opened to meet hers. She was tired and her eyes were dull. He wasn't there to witness the injustices of last night, but it affected his wife — and that was enough. Saera sighs again, finding solace in his warm embrace. Her favorite part about Daemon was that he was always warm, even in the winter. His arms were always wide open and welcoming her embrace. 

There was silence between them, and Daemon almost believed that she was asleep. "My father said something — and it's been bothering me. Jaelza Daegon hae dārys. (He wants Daegon as King.)" she breathed pausing lightly to witness his reaction. 

Decades ago, people spread rumors about him wishing for the throne. They even warned his brother that Daemon would seduce Rhaenyra and take the throne from himself. And he could see that the people of court saw him as a craven lunatic, who lusted after a sword throne. His eyes dart towards his wife, not knowing what reaction she wanted out of him. 

"What?" he asks her to repeat and she buries her head in his chest. "Ziry ivestretan nyke, bona Daegon ēdruta sagon dārys. (He told me, that Daegon must be King.)" she muttered, her voice muffled by his chest. He could sense her fear — his wife wasn't a warmonger, nor would she stand for usurping her sister. 

He hums, the realization of wanting to keep it a secret dawning on him. His legacy — his blood, forgotten. And he'd accept it because it was his wife that told him so. He takes a deep breath, not finding the right words to tell her. "I can have you forget all about it." he whispers in a dark tone as he began to rise from their bed. 

Daemon found his wife beautiful — as did the people of the Seven Kingdoms. She was a soft beauty, unlike her sister's striking features. The people often overlooked her, taking preference of The Realm's Delight. But he knew that Saera was born to be loved, and she was born to be worshipped. 

Before their relationship he tried to find pleasure in the whores of Silk Street. Fucking them and imagining her beneath him, and wishing that it was her voice that moaned his name. Before he left for the Stepstones, he had her underneath the Weirwood Tree only to come back with her hand given to another. 

It was then, the rumors became harsher. The flames of Daemon's wrath becoming renowned across the realm. He couldn't burn without her, he was a mere flickering flame. He hated Harwin — he wanted to murder the man. Then the truth of Harwin's infidelity came forth, Saera turned towards him. And gods Daemon burned. The fire of his love renewed. 

He dives for a kiss, and sparks exploded. "Daemon." she muttered as her eyes fluttered lightly. He was divine — and she could memorize every part of him. Every indent, every scar — she knew it like the back of her own hand. "Qogralbar nyke. (Fuck me.)" she cried out as the warmth beneath her legs began to pool. 

NSFW CUT

"Mazverdagon jorrāelagon naejot nyke (Make love to me.)" he corrected with a light smirk and she nods. "Please," she whispered as he lifted the hems of her gown. Exposing her unclothed body. "Gevie (Beautiful)" he whispered as his hands grazed the tops of her cunt. She smelt like strawberries, and he couldn't stop craving her taste. 

He leans down, taking a lick of her vagina. A smile playing at his lips as they shared a stare. She was beautiful — she looked like a goddess, and Daemon was bending for her. He motions for her to look at him as she keeps her eyes pierced upon him, ignoring the pleasures on her body that called for her to close her eyes. 

He takes another lick, allowing the wetness to create more friction. He leaned in for a second time, his tongue expertly reaching her g-spot in no time. Tonight wasn't about Daemon. It was all about pleasuring his gorgeous wife. 

It was clear that he was an expert in licking cunt. Her hands were tangled in his hair, forcing for him to go deeper. He grins, looking like a cheeky devil. As a moan escapes from her lips. "Ahh." Saera breathed as licked his lips, feeling the warmth of her body — carefully watching as she bucked and gasped for breath. 

He rested his hands on her thighs, as her other hand held the bed-stand for comfort. "Daemon — kepus. Don't stop. (uncle)" she pleaded as he nibbled at her cunt. Allowing the wanton pleasure to overcome him. Women were built to last as long as possible, and he would make her cum a thousand times. 

Her thighs were laid on his shoulder, as he presses the right thigh down. An angle that he had learned to give the greatest pleasures. "Keep going," she muttered as beads of sweat began to form on her forehead. Her sleepiness had long been forgotten in exchange for sex. 

He stops, and moves to reach her level. Her hands reaching for his pants and unbuttoning it. His cock springing to life. He presses a kiss on her collarbone as she lifts her to sitting position, with her both her hands pinned by his own and her back in an angle that allowed her to slump on the bed-frame. "Jaelan ao, (I want you)" she whispered in his ears. 

Her hot breath sending shivers down his spine, and engorging his lust. Saera, his beautiful temptress, one whose slender fingers had provided him more comfort than he could count. He would die a hundred times if it meant sharing her bed. 

"Jaelā nyke? (You want me?)" he taunted as he lined his penis in her warm gaping hole. Watching as she nodded desperately — not wishing to be gone of peak. "Gaomagon aōha udra ñuha byka ābrazȳrys. (Use your words my little wife.)" he bit his lips as his gaze met hers. 

"Kostilus, ivestragī nyke emagon ao. (Please, let me have you.)" she pleaded and he nods, his fingers dancing down to her face and resting on her chin. Pulling her close and kissing her lips, letting her taste her own juices. He shifts again, his body straddling her own. 

He positions his cock and inserts it into her, another smile entering his lips as her eyes rolled back in pleasure. "Vok. (Perfect)" she moans as he lets go of her hands. His arms resting on her shoulders as he began to bounce on her. Doing his best to be gentle — wishing only to provide her with pleasure and not fucking. 

He looks at her, right in the eye — not wanting to be robbed of any moment with her. "Shit," she curses as she buries her face in his chest. The pleasure sending a thousand moans to her body. In his ears, it was the sound of heaven. Her voice was akin to melody. 

They were burning. As dragons were supposed to do. 

He cums inside of her. Her womb filled with his seed. Daemon didn't care — the peak that mattered was his wife's, and he was going to give it to her. Saera's grip on his tunic softened, as her eyes mouth gently opened. "Iksan jāre naejot— (I'm going to)" she moans as her peak comes. Daemon pauses for a while, before her body leans back on the bed. 

NSFW DONE

"Kirimvose" Saera thanks and Daemon places a kiss on her temples. "I know that you worry about our family, and I promise to protect all of you." he promises as she lays down on the bed. She nods lightly, the tiredness taking full effect upon her. 

"I know," she replied as he wraps her body with a warm blanket. Smiling as his wife drifts into sleep. 

next chapter>>

taglist: @sweetybuzz25 @newtsniffles @loveandlewis-reads @lovecleastrange @julkaamazing @mirandastuckinthe80s @duhitzdae @schniiipsel @areaderinlove @i-yam-awesome @ladystardvsts @brezzybfan @rockerchick05 @flawroses @joygirlmeliii @princessmiaelicia @prettybiching @saraandthejets1 @naturallyspontaneous @hnybitches @lxdyred @inpraizeof @claudie-080102 @1-800-isabellapotter @mamamooqa @23victoria @curiouser-an-curiouser @queenofshinigamis @alexisabirdie @kindaslightlyacidic @anaisbambia @my-dark-prince @sebastian025 @yor72 @esposadomd @ttae-yong @bregarc @thanyatargaryen

[joruni]

I woke up with an epiphany of an idea for Vol.2 Eddie lives AU!

You know what kind of low-budget prompt/costume would a DnD nerd with a lot of time on his hands make? Chainmaille!! You can make it out of super-cheap garden wire with only wire cutters and two pliers. Eaaasy!

So before Eddie hops into Upside-down he grabs a shirt from his closet and he already had it in ‘83 so Dustin gets one as well! Metal!

Demobats still kind of tear him apart, mostly on his legs and arms; he gets a nasty scratch on his neck, which bleeds a lot so he still passes out in Dustin’s arms, but his abdomen is almost completely fine! A claw or two managed to pierce through, but bats were unable to bite.

And Steve kind of gets an idea from it. He has a boring ass job, which has a lot of free time in between customers and they know that Vecna is coming back. They are getting prepared this time and he is putting some extra protection on his kids! So he visits Eddie after he is released from hospital, to ask him how can he make one (or about dozen for everyone). They raid shops for supplies, take it all to Harrington residence and get to work. Eddie shows him how you coil the wire and then cut it into individual rings. Its an easy process but it takes a long time to build a useful length of chainmaille.

So they round up the whole party. Eddie as he already has a shirt tailored to his measurements makes rings for everyone and they make a tradition of piling on floor in front of tv with a movie playing while everyone does some crafts on the side.

And Eddie then one day shares fun-fact about silk armour used in Asia. And did you know it can actually stop like an actual knife or arrow because of how tightly it is vowen? And the real protection comes from using layers. Leather, fabric, metal, silk…as long as you have several layers.

Huh, Steve’s mother has some silk shit in her closet, they could totally raid. And there are some leather jackets in second-hand shops. And Dustin totally drags Eddie and Steve on a medieval fare in next town and they buy anything that seems even remotely useful (they got a whole ass sword and real shield from one! Steve gave them to Eddie who is in heaven and little but in love!) And Robin comes with an idea of piercing some leather belts with nails and trimming them into chokers, because so many of them got choked by vines, or bats on their last adventure.

Slowly but surely they convert one of Steve’s garages into an DIY- armoury. (Btw, that ridiculous mansion has 5 of them! Eddie almost chokes with laughter when he finds out because why? He basically lives there alone!) Every member of the party has their own stash there, tailored to their needs, preferences and abbilities. Armour, weapons, supplies for travelling or trips into danger zones.

They are not getting surprised this time!

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #vol. 2 au #eddie lives #steddie headcanon #because I imagine the get close during it #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #dustin henderson #Harrington DIY armoury AU #steddie

[ziseviolet]

Hiya! I’ve been extremely interested in Cdrama’s as of late and the costumes! Now in some of these dramas there are dancing scenes. But I saw that not all the dancing scenes are done in chinese clothes. I saw one scene where they wore a ‘bedlah’. Can I get your input wether this is just modern aesethic or not. Thank you for your time in answering our asks!

Hi, thanks for the question!

I know what you’re referring to - in Chinese historical costume (guzhuang) dramas, you can occasionally see characters wearing bedlahs or bedlah-like outfits for dance scenes. Example below - a character wearing bedlah for a dance scene in historical Cdrama Myth of Sword (x):

Bedlahs typically show up as dance costumes in historical Cdramas for the following reasons:

To give the dance a seductive/sensual air (of course this can be achieved with Chinese clothing, but bedlahs add an additional element of mystery and/or “exoticness”) 

To suggest/signify Xiyu influence. Xiyu (西域), lit. “Western Regions”, was a historical name specified in the Chinese chronicles between the 3rd century BC to the 8th century AD that referred to the regions west of Yumen Pass, most often Central Asia or sometimes more specifically the easternmost portion of it (e.g. Altishahr or the Tarim Basin in southern Xinjiang), though it was sometimes used more generally to refer to other regions to the west of China as well, such as the Indian subcontinent (as in the novel Journey to the West)

For example, Tang dynasty-set Cdrama Beauties in the Closet features a bedlah dance scene, in which animal spirits disguised as women perform a dance to seduce the emperor (x). The Tang dynasty is famous for its Silk Road trade route that enabled strong relations with the empires to its west (ex: Byzantine, Persian, Arabian). The Tang capital Chang'an became an international metropolis, and foreign clothing & hairstyles became trendy. In Chang’an and Luoyang, Turkish and Persian fashions were highly sought after (x). Thus, the bedlahs in this scene serve to emphasize the seductiveness of the dance, as well as make a nod to the multicultural nature of Tang society:

Another example comes from the historical Cdrama The Great Dunhuang, which is based on the history of the oasis city of Dunhuang, which lies on the ancient Silk Road. In this scene, Meiduo, a princess from the ancient Kingdom of Khotan, dances a feitian (apsara) dance in feitian costume (x). Feitian costumes as depicted in Chinese media have similarities with bedlah, as can be seen below:

With all that said, though, the use of bedlahs in historical Cdrama costuming is still a modern aesthetic, due to the simple fact that the bedlah as we know it today is a modern 20th-century Egyptian belly dance costume influenced by European theatrical attire (1/2):

“The bedlah is essentially a Westernized creation, though not a wholly Western creation. What really cinched its iconic popularity in dance was the golden age of Egyptian Cinema in the 50s-70s, when Egyptian movies still largely cast professional dancers for dance roles. These Egyptian dancers, directors, and costumers sought inspiration from Hollywood and American culture - the bedlah is basically an Egyptianized iteration of the types of costuming that American dancers and showgirls were wearing. (Think Vegas, burlesque, cabaret, lounge and nightclub culture, in addition to movies/popular music culture.)” (Source)

Needless to say, this particular type of outfit did not even exist prior to the 1900s, much less during the Tang dynasty.

So why do they show up in historical Cdramas? As I’ve mentioned many times before (1/2/3), historical Chinese dramas tend to take a lot of liberties in their costume design. And indeed, this is one of those cases. I chalk it up to a combination of trying to appeal to modern audience’s aesthetics/expectations & lack of resources/attention. Researching & creating historically accurate outfits is a lot more difficult than slapping on a bedlah and calling it a day. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

To be fair, this misunderstanding is a worldwide phenomenon, not just a Chinese one. For example, I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that Disney’s depiction of Princess Jasmine in a bedlah in Aladdin played a huge role in propagating the perception that the bedlah was an actual “ancient” historic outfit. This influence is especially noticeable in the recent Chinese “Xiyu aesthetic” fashion trend. Below are two Xiyu-style outfits with the theme “Loulan Princess” (the Loulan Kingdom was an ancient kingdom based around an important oasis city along the Silk Road) (x):

The “Princess Jasmine effect” is quite strong, wouldn’t you say? :P

For culturally/historically accurate Chinese dance clothes, please see my dance & dance hanfu tags.

If anyone wants to share more information, please do. Hope this helps!

#drama costumes #drama #bedlah #dance #xiyu #history #>100 #reference #ask #reply #chinese fashion #china

[hush-writes-preg]

Oh daddy please tell me how you’d breed my boy hole. Tell me how beautiful I look, heavy and pregnant with your baby that you put in my womb~ how pretty I look waddling around the house. I used to be such a powerful mercenary, skilled with a sword, reduced to being a mindless, breeding slut for you

TW: dubcon, drugs, magical coercion

I was a sorcerer, someone that your kind always looked down on as weak and 'squishy'. You were a big, strapping mercenary, one of the best of your guild, and entirely unimpressed by me, my tower, and the mundane duties I assigned you to after you accepted my contract.

But you greedily took my coin over the first few weeks anyway, didn't you? Just as greedily as you gulped down my wine when you thought I wasn't looking?

It wasn't my fault that you were too stupid to realize the difference between a decanter and a potion bottle, that you drank up the elixir I'd painstakingly crafted to help a client breed his reluctant spouse. Sure, it wasn't very prudent of me to place them both on the same table, but I certainly didn't force it down your throat.

I didn't realize what you'd done until I came into the room afterward and found you slumped to the floor, one hand furiously stroking your dick while the other plunged the glass bottle stopper in and out of your greedy hole. You barely even noticed me, so caught up in trying to get off that everything around had you disappeared.

The problem was, the effects of the elixir couldn't be eased by your own hand. But you didn't know that.

So I sat down to watch you dissolve into a whimpering puddle of lust. The minutes passed as you grew more frantic, the heat building within you leaving you growing more and more desperate until you were practically sobbing with the need to come. A big, strong man, becoming a complete slave to his desires.

I probably left you there longer than was prudent, especially since the elixir turned out to be a bit stronger than I'd have intended, but that's what you got for being a thief. My delayed reaction broke something in you that day, for by the time I took pity on you and fucked you like a peasant right in the middle of my drawing room rug, that haughty gleam in your eye had entirely vanished. No more were you the pride of the Fighter's Guild, but a hopeless cockslut.

So yes, I took my recompense from your elixir-drunk body. Yes, I spilled my seed into your well-fucked hole. And when I realized that the effects of the elixir weren't fading and that you'd been reduced to a docile, desire-addled fuckdoll, I didn't bother stopping.

That's why you're still in my tower almost eight months later, your guild contract canceled, your sword and armor stashed in some closet, and your belly massively swollen with my offspring. You waddle after me like a puppy, always eager to spread your legs when the mood strikes, and it strikes often. No longer am I 'that annoying sorcerer'; now you call me 'Daddy' like a two-copper trollop.

You've become such a pretty thing. So much more beautiful and tolerable to be around than the man who'd shown up at my doorstep all those months ago. All of the harsh lines of your form have softened with your pregnancy, your body clad in a few gauzy silks that leave little to the imagination, solely for my own pleasure.

I never expected to want a pet, but the sight of you so heavy with my child has changed something in me, too. I'm going to keep my little mercenary's womb nice and full from here on out, and I know you won't have any complaints.

#hush answers #mpreg #male pregnancy #tw: drugs #tw: magic coercion #tw: dubcon #hush writes preg

[kirstenonic05]

I can't believe I got tagged for this. Thank you @rottenpumpkin13!

Rules: post the names of the files of your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you asks with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it. If you want, tag as many people as you have WIPS.

I'm gonna tag people now and then put the WIP names under the read more because I wasn't lying when I said I have an unholy amount of WIPs!

@nibwhipdragon @idolcrescent @shadowsageingempress and anyone else who wants to do this! No pressure, though! :D

I have this many stories:

And this many finished:

So uh. This'll be fun. (I won't do all my WIPs but... it's still a lot...)

I think this would be a lot funnier if I took screenshots of the names/adding the pictures that are attached to the Keep notes, but there are just too many to do that. Anything in italic isn't in the title, it's just present me screaming

(Sadly all my finished fics have funnier titles since I finish crackfics in a day, and sorry for the weird formatting! I reached the paragraph cap apparently :()

Star of the Sea 2 (No name)

"What should we do with its corpse?" (Rewritten) (Two ghosts discuss throwing away a dead centipede. One throws it at the other)

Encounter with the Local Dark Mage (I only have a title... I don't even know who the characters will be yet... Why am I like this...)

Comfort (I'M A SENTENCE OFF OF FINISHING I THINK)

The Demon and the Boy (I am SO CLOSE to finishing this. Just need to edit. Might end up on Ao3)

The Dark Mage and the Dark Alchemist

I don't have a title but Sig cheers up Schezo

A New Cave???

A Len, Two Lens (Waiting on Ink to send me some of the script, collab moment)

Scarf

Also no name, smth abt Allen and Hibiya but fantasy???

The Closet's Other Door (Continuation of a fic named The Closet)

Also no name, Armani (OC)'s birthday

Photos

The Master of the Heavenly Yard

I don't want to die

Nightmare (I thought this was done...)

A Glitch's Musings (I DON'T REMEMBER WRITING MORE ECHOED TIME STUFF HELLO??)

Times Two (I wrote so much for Echoed Time and. Forgot)

Repression

No name but continuation of Joseph has a dragon spirit that goes out of control (Aurora Dragon)

Plush

No name, everyone's animal hybrids except Sonic

Sick

Interrogation

I'm so sorry Mayday (I'm so sorry for doing this to you Mayday...)

No name, Joseph post apocalypse(?)

Me, the Stall Wall, and You

Three Wings, Five (OUGH THE AU UPDATED. NOW IT HAS TO BE 7 WINGS)

You tried (That sounds so angsty without the context of Chrom walks into a Minecraft desert temple and blows up...)

Digitalis

Spin a Tale of Silk and Cotton

Chase

Isle of Destiny

Reality Check

Guardian Angel

To the Pure Body, to the Perfect Existence

Volume Control (Help how do you write sad Tsukasa)

Last One Standing

Dualheart

Different

Twist of Fate

Dimensional Scream

Before Disaster

Fighting a King

Red String

At Dawn (DD edition)

Bottoms Up

Themes

What's in a name?

Couple of Strays

Stuck in Stone

Heterochromia

City Boy Lost (Joseph gets lost: The story)

Merry Chrimpus

Tales from the Shattered Star

Birth... marks? (This was meant for Caejose week but I was busy rip)

From the Dark World

Dark Fear

Night in the Desert

So, do you like him? (Huh Joseph? Do you like him? It looks like you do)

Corrupted Code

Crumbling Stars

Hotel (My lord I was on a full SoSS spree after Frontiers, that's like 6 in a row including two others that are here somewhere)

Tension

Heads Up! (Local hedgehog yeets ghost friend's head at people)

Ridgegate Rumble (Also the name of the song I'm turning in as an assignment lol)

Redeemed Flame

Light of the Sun

Out of Known Time (Almost done...)

Swords

Carriage (The only Shrimp fic that isn't finished, set before Soggy Shrimp and Emotional Support Shrimp)

Another Life

The Ultimate

Faded Light

Wish Come Through - Wish Fall

Meeting

Aurora Dragon

Family

Reflection

Instinct

Murky Water

Land of Ice (Light, Butterflies and the Never-Ending Winter)

Refracted Invader

"Best Coffee to ever grace the earth"

The Boy

Enter: The Ripple

Skirmish Pack

At what cost?

Silence

Your Turn

Copy (OH RIGHT JOSEPH CLONE AU. I SHOULD FINISH THAT.)

A New World

Clothes

Threaded Stars (SOSS DD crossover I forgot about...)

Sugar Rush

To Turn Back Time

Arachnophobia

BOY I DIE The End (I've finished BOY I DIE the first and almost finished this one :3)

BOY I DIE the middle one (I have not started this one though...)

Yearn For Home

Wait ghosts can't-

A Totally Normal Day (Putting my OCs on a date...)

Insight

Sweet Treat

Logical Stimulus (HELP BATTLE SCENES ARE SO HARD TO WRITE. HOW DO YOU WRITE VANITAS.)

Blue Eyes, Red Stone (I forgot to finish this one sorry Nibwhip... It's the Monster Hunter JoJo fic)

Photo Ghost

Unfounded Kingdom

Two

Not so Dark

Similar (Hedgehog and Human)

Popsicles (Will be on the Caejose collection once it's done. If I finish it, of course)

Just a Familiar

Final Battle...?

Time Stops

Barista

Heart's Pulse

Immortal

Welcome to Vivosaur Island

The Heroes

Fireflies

Like Surviving the Apocalypse (OC edition)

Like Surviving the Apocalypse (AU Joseph edition)

Live Play

Aragami - 荒神

Reunion

It's Time (Kirsten finish Echoed Time fics challenge: impossible. Literally this is the beginning of the series and I STILL haven't finished it.)

Chaos Warp (OH HELLO SOSS FIC THAT IGNORES ALL THE RULES OF SOSS)

Light in the Dark

My Own Hands (Rerun)

My Own Hands

Comrades No More (Rerun)

Comrades No More (OG CitS edition)

Distorted Graffiti (It's literally just Comrades No More with a different name and they dance before killing each other... what the heck past me...)

Winter Wonderland

The Supernatural

【End of Days】 (Kirsten don't write the end of the AU before the start challenge: Impossible impossible)

Midnight Dancing

Arena (I think I never finished this because the characters changed names 3 times during writing lol)

Learn to Dance

Ruins Deep

How to say "I love you" (Learn to dance from Caesar's POV)

Tsunami

Snow Tower

Phone

Time, again and again

Heart Burn (Probably gonna split this into 4 different oneshots ngl)

Cast Away (I THOUGHT I FINISHED THIS D:)

Eternamax

Cute? (Not in the way you think)

Mission

Jail of Burning Hell (An actual mission name from Sonic Adventure. How.)

Treading the Needle (I wrote the start to OG CitS and never finished it, then proceeded to write everything in between and the end. Ok me.)

Legendary Heroes II

Beautiful One Day

Lock

Table Tennis Table (OH RIGHT THE JOSEPH AND SONIC BREAK A TV AND ALLEN IS DISAPPOINTED FIC. I NEED TO FINISH THIS.)

Brioche (I have like 3 fics named brioche. Which fic is this.)

Braving Lightning

Meet the Ghosts

Rift Token Pendent

Joe's Diary 2

Zombies at Port

Zombies at Port (Dream accurate) (Technically done?)

The Start of Origins

Beast on World's End (The day I figure out how to write DIO, the day I will finish this fic)

Shuniji (EotD version)

Shuniji (Minecraft accurate)

Lunch

Mice on Venus

Anigame

Anigame 2 (Kirsten name your fics-)

Ridgegate Rock (OG CitS version)

Night Market

Arrival (i wrote this playing Stardew) (The previous brackets is actually in the title...)

Butterfly House (Valentines 2021) (NOOO I NEVER FINISHED THIS D:)

Water's Edge

Turtle Beach

Allen, Joseph, and the Mizutsune (I need to. Finish this.)

Streak of Lightning

Guest

(Not So) Secret Island

Son of a Champion (Nuzlocke gone wrong not clickbait)

Kars' 100% Accurate Retelling of Meeting Joseph (It's not accurate)

Through Ghost Eye

Dance of the Decorous

March of the Profane (So I made this challenge where I wrote two fics at the same time (This and Dance of the Decorous) that share the same amount of sentences, and chose two songs that are the same but remixes as the titles. I wanna continue these fics sometime cause I'm kinda proud of them ngl...)

Purest Sky and Sea (Started this with Ink and. Forgot abt it)

Wrong Seat, Right Timing (Ink and I have to finish this! :D)

Blue on the Run

Dawn (Another fic named Dawn??? It's... Stardew???)

Temporal Rift (THIS WASN'T EVEN TAGGED AS STORY I JUST STUMBLED ACROSS IT WHILE TRYING TO FIND SMTH. HELP I MIGHT HAVE A LOT OF FICS I'M MISSING)

Shadows on the East (This is one of my most important fics and it wasn't tagged as story...)

Up towards the sky (I wrote a Caejose New Years fic??? What??? When???)

Where it all went wrong

Poffins (Continuation to Underground on Ao3!)

Eye of Memory

Sunflowers Spring Forth Day

~ℜ𝔢𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔢~ Bluebells Sound Death

Sunset Orange (I think I've written more oneshots for this AU than the actual main story...)

Sunrise Yellow

EC x SDV (Aka Boredom/Commas everywhere) (I REMEMBER THAT I COULDN'T FINISH THIS BECAUSE IT WENT OVER THE GOOGLE KEEP WORD LIMIT LOL)

The Mystery of the Two Pranksters

Lost Memory

I know who you are (Well that's not cryptic as heck)

Token

Dreaming of Shooting Stars

Dreams (3 SoSS fics in a row again. Huh.)

Love?

Name

Nest

Golden Friendships

No name, Eye of the Sea intro for EotD

Who are you?

Valentines (ANOTHER VALENTINES FIC???)

Stairwell (This was a story where anything stupid that happened to me at this stairwell would be rewritten with characters but... I'm not at that school anymore... this might be finished...)

Full

Orchid

The Legendary Wolf Likes Coke (COCA COLA. NOT COCAINE)

America? (America is not real)

JOeStar rEcreation: Project Hamon (J.O.S.E.P.H ;) )

Rain under the Trees

It feels like midnight

The Revolution Comes Around Again

Before I say goodbye to you

Collab Story

The end of the 10 year story (10 years irl)

Null

Rumours

The Mentor Servant's Name

Who's She? (Sounds kinda angsty but it's not... It's SoSS)

Shadows of the Past (White Deal)

Scarf (OH LOL I'VE USED THIS TITLE TWICE)

Sea of Fire

Visit

Left in Ruins

The Concept of Love

A little spider goes a long way (Eden why did you name the spider that) (My friend named a spider Joseph and then we talked abt it and a crackfic spawned...)

Safari Zone

Another

DD rewritten

Around the World

One and the Same

Royalty is not for us

Entralinked

Servant of the Worlds

The Evillious Chair

Why does a flaming arrow hold a curse instead of killing the victim straight away?

Strengths and Weaknesses

Christmas Snack

Happy birthday Sonic!

Back in Time

Blossom Storm

Hanahaki

A day in the life of the Kagamine/Lucifin Twins (TYPO SPOTTED. IT'S SPELT "LUCIFEN")

Tricksters in the Lucifenia Palace

Slice of Life - Ancestral Bonds (I'm 100% sure there's a continuation to this somewhere that's unfinished but I can't find it...)

As Faith Foretold

Dimensional Defenders - 1 (My first ever fic!!! Wow!!!)

Experiment TS-#042 (Sad that I didn't get far in this, I had so many ideas for this AU as a kid)

Mirai

A day in the Lucifenian Castle

Len's Adventures at Gakupo's Sushiria (Collab with my friend, who wrote Miku's Scooperia)

Tuna why did you make me do this you peckneck smh (Speaking of said friend...)

Shattered Mirrors

One

Through the desert's flames

Pocky

Earthen Guardians

Ships on a Spaceship (There are 3 separate stories for this, and 2 more planned. Why would I do that to myself)

Azure Gold

Azure Wind (These two fics are not related to each other. Azure Gold and In Love with a Wyvern are. What.)

Mirror Cave

In love with a wyvern

New World, New Beginnings (JOJO MINECRAFT ISEKAI FIC I WROTE AND FORGOT ABT??? HELLO???)

Lab AU??? (The AU has a name y'know, past me)

Among Us there are Two (Part 3) (ONE DAY I WILL FINISH THIS)

Cookies

And that's all! If you made it this far, thank you for dealing with my disaster!

#thanks again for tagging me!!! it was very unexpected!!! #looking through all my stories reminded me of how many i forgot to finish.... #there are like. 5 echoed time ones i forgot about. whoops #and like some of these stories are a sentence off of being finished but Idk how to end them. pain and suffering #also with finished ones i have a lot but i can't post them to Ao3 because they are MIDWAY THROUGH AN AU #pain #kirsten writes #kirsten speak #kirsten's aus #tag game

[moltengoldveins]

No no no. Listen. You don’t understand: In five years, I want to bake bread every week. I want to have a china mosaic in my kitchen in a little house I own enough to change. I want to paint stars on the ceilings. I want to drive ten minutes to my best friend’s house to see her two year old and teach them how to say ‘tax benefits’ for no good reason. I wanna have silk sheets. Purple ones. I wanna finish that blanket I’ve been working on for five years now in fits and bursts whenever my life feels worthwhile. I wanna walk in the woods. I wanna read the Bible regularly. I wanna love my mom and dad without being angry at the same time. I wanna make myself socks. I wanna pray like I mean it, like my relationship with God isn’t hurt and unsteady and ballistic. I wanna have finished my four book series and that vague plot hiding in the back of my brain. I want to sit in silence in the sun and be happy. I wanna have a pet snake. A lavender corn snake. I wanna finish that dress I have in the back closet, the one I’m going to embroider with crows and swords and roses, and I wanna wear it to a ball. I want to know how to dance. I wanna know how to crochet more than two stitches. I want to teach neighborhood kids how to knit and bake. I want a collection of pretty glass jars. I want to hatch monarchs every year. I want to hug my sisters. I want to hug my mom and dad. I want to be happy. I don’t have the slightest idea what I want to do for a job. I don’t need to. I never needed to. I spent all that time incapable of wanting anything because I didn’t want a job. I don’t need to want a job. I need to want to be loved, and healthy, and happy, and at peace

#Long post #someone reblog with what they want to have done in five years #Something small #itll make you happy :) promise

[snezhnayas-greatest-lovemachine]

Red Silk

(Childe/Zhongli)

After the final battle Childe took a sword to the heart.

And he’s since been recovering in zhongli’s apartment. Apparently he’s on bed rest. And zhongli will not take anymore chances. Despite his constant attempts to get up and leave.

However people keep visiting and asking zhongli how he’s holding up.

And isn’t that just rude? He only sustained a concussion while his beloved fiancé was stabbed!

Surely Childe’s the one people Should be asking about!

Had public opinion about Childe changed so little? Despite him (nearly!) dying to save Teyvat?

After tersely seeing young Chongyun off, Childe found his beloved rage organizing their closet.

Zhongli found a fine bundle of red silk balled up in a corner.

He blushed and admitted that it was going to be his wedding outfit but he didn’t want Childe to see.

Childe smiles and tells him to put it on.

Zhongli protests that isn’t it bad luck in snezhnayan customs?

Childe points to his bandaged chest and says “I’ve been stabbed. I don’t think my luck is going to get worse.”

Unable to argue with that logic zhongli puts the hanfu on.

That’s when Hu Tao knocks on the door. She tells him there’s going to be a massive service Tonight for everyone that fell in that battle with celestia. And she thinks he should come. He hasn’t left his house in weeks after all.

Her eyes went large and a little strange at the sight of him in his hanfu. He all but kicks her out. And she softly asks him to think about it.||

Childe tells him that he should go. It would be good for him.

Zhongli tells he can’t. If he goes, then Childe really would be…”

Childe tells him he needs to accept this. And Hu Tao and the others are worried about him. And him staying here isn’t helping.

Zhongli couldn’t speak and his vision was blurring.

Childe cupped his face so gently he couldn’t even feel it.

Listen Xiansheng, we’ve always known it was going to happen. And it’s not forever. I promised I would find you again. You know I keep my promises.

Zhongli turned away now completely crying. “But I’m not ready. We didn’t get enough time.”

“No one ever gets enough time. That’s kinda humanity’s whole deal.”

Zhongli still wouldn’t turn to face him.

“Please. You need to let me go. So I can hurry back to you.”

Zhongli finally nodded.

“That’s my Zhongli Xiansheng. Now go get ready. You can’t go to a memorial service dressed like a bride.”

zhongli arrived at the service wearing his usual dark brown suit. Hu Tao smiled to see him.

When he Came back from the service, his apartment was completely empty. As if there was never a second occupant at all.

#Childe #zhongli #zhongchi #tartali

[aurumacadicus]

For @winterironmonth

SFW Sunday: Word, Dialogue

I’ve always wanted to try a fic entirely from an outsider point of view 🤔 Lemme know if it went well. Look out for under the cut!

--

Steve took a deep breath, then let it out again slowly. “You know I’m not good at lying.”

“You only say that because you don’t want to believe it. You’re incredibly good at lying,” Bucky said flatly. “Do we have a deal or not?”

Steve scowled, shuffling his feet as Bucky finished tying his tie for him. “I guess I should say I’m not good at lying to Howard.”

“So don’t talk to Howard,” Bucky said, shrugging, as if it was that simple.

Steve sighed, rolling his eyes. He didn’t really have the option not to talk to Howard—he and his wife were the hosts of the costume ball he was attending. He had to thank them for the invitation. Howard was somehow good at recognizing him even in disguise, which was annoying when he was undercover for the Crown. And Howard knew something was up, so he’d be extra perceptive. It was why he’d specifically disallowed Bucky from attending.

“All I need you to do is give Tony the note telling him to meet me in the garden,” Bucky said, letting go of his tie with a flourish.

Steve frowned down at the note Bucky had slapped into his hand, because ‘Tony will recognize my handwriting.’ “It just says ‘you know where to find me.’ It doesn’t say anything about the garden.”

“It’s our place,” Bucky explained, as if he was a child. “We always sneak off to the garden to—”

“I know what you do,” Steve cut in hastily, stepping away from him to take a look at himself in the mirror. He’d walked in on them hiding in pantries and closets enough to know exactly what they were going to get up to. He tried to comb his hair into his usual style, then stopped himself—it was a masquerade ball. He wasn’t supposed to be his usual self. “How are you even going to get into the garden? Howard said you weren’t allowed on the property. He was paying for extra security.”

“It’s best you don’t know,” Bucky said.

Steve turned to look at him, opening his mouth to tell him it was his neck on the line if Howard figured out he was working together with him to get Tony away from the party (even though Bucky was his best friend, so Howard really should have expected it). Then he shook his head, thinking better of it. It was best he didn’t know. He wouldn’t have to lie as much, then. “And I only have to give him this note?” he asked dubiously, looking at the note again.

“Yes,” Bucky assured with a nod. “He’ll know what to do after.”

“Alright,” Steve sighed, picking up his mask and frowning at it.

“—And maybe distract Howard for a little bit,” Bucky added thoughtfully.

Steve spun toward him, spluttering, “That wasn’t part of the deal!”

Bucky clasped his hands together, pleading. “Please, Steve! Just if he notices Tony’s gone. Then he’ll have more time to get back to the party!”

“I’m giving him the note only!” Steve shouted, waving a fist at him. “I’m a bad liar especially to Howard and if his wife even glances at me askance, I will cry!”

“Alright,” Bucky agreed hastily, and Steve wanted to think it was because he was intimidating, but he knew it was mostly because they were all scared of Maria Stark. The only people who weren’t were Howard and Tony. Steve still had no idea how. Maria Stark had once been so annoyed by one of the princes at a royal function that she’d gotten an apology from the Crown written personally by the queen.

.-.

Steve realized, as soon as he stepped into the ballroom, that he should have asked Bucky what Tony would be wearing. Everyone looked opulent. Precious gems dripped from every neck and ear he could see. Clothes were made out of satins and silks. Masks were hand-embroidered and covered in delicate lace. Even those armed had gems glittering in the hilts of their swords. He felt underdressed. He almost turned right back around and left.

But the note from Bucky was still in his pocket, and Tony was expecting to receive it. Steve could understand Howard being cautious (before Tony, Bucky had been a pretty infamous cad), but to separate them so completely that he was willing to risk public ridicule by barring Bucky from his property, it was so unfair. Maybe he was lucky, that way—he’d seen firsthand how Bucky had fallen head over heels for Tony, going from a smarmy philanderer to a smitten suitor.

Gifts assured to quickly lead to sex had turned into thoughtful gifts that he hoped Tony might enjoy. Expensive carriage rides about town to show each other off had turned into long walks where they could find a moment of privacy. Bragging about his exploits had turned into lovelorn sighs about Tony’s achievements. Anniversaries were met with nervous excitement, not surprise that they could stand each other that long. Bucky had fallen head over heels, and as annoyed as Steve was to have to play the middle man sometimes, he was also honored to see it happening. Tony was good for him. And Bucky was good for Tony, too.

“Steve,” someone said, and Steve about jumped out of his skin.

He turned sharply. There was a man standing behind him, dressed in red and black velvets. There was golden embroidery along the edges, rubies and garnets sewn into glittering flowers, and his mask was a cold, contrasting blue with sapphires dotting the corners. “Tony?” he asked hopefully.

The man rolled his eyes in the exact same way that Tony did. “Obviously.”

“If you’re not nice to me, I’m not giving you the note,” Steve said.

The haughtiness in Tony’s body language disappeared, eyes going wide and sad behind his mask in fear that Steve actually would fuck off without giving him the note. “I’ll be nice.”

Steve immediately felt bad for teasing him. Tony knew as well as he did that Bucky was banned from the property and this would be his only chance to see him when his father was trying his best to make him see other suitors. Of course he wouldn’t want to take chances. And Steve was technically supposed to be loyal to Howard in this, just because he was higher in station, so of course Tony would be anxious about it. “Can you promise this note won’t be found by anyone else?”

“I’ll eat it,” Tony answered.

Steve laughed, realized Tony wasn’t laughing with him, and stopped. “Don’t fucking eat it!”

“You said—” Tony began indignantly.

Steve scowled at him. “I just don’t want to get in trouble with the Crown, Tony, I actually don’t care if anyone sees it as long as they don’t know I gave it to you.”

“Oh,” Tony said, and then, “Well. No one knows who you are except me I think, because I had Jan tell me what she made for your costume. I like your tie.”

Steve looked down at his tie, unable to help the warmth of pride in his chest that Tony approved. “It’s not too much?”

“It’s perfect,” Tony assured, reaching out to smooth it down his chest.

Steve lifted his hand to brush Tony’s away, pushing the note into his palm. “Tony, if your dad thinks you’re flirting with me, he’s going to be insufferable about trying to pair us up.”

“Ew,” Tony exclaimed, nose wrinkling under his mask.

Steve scowled again. “You could at least pretend you don’t think the idea is disgusting, you know.”

“Imagine me naked,” Tony said flatly, and when Steve wrinkled his nose at the idea, he let out a triumphant, “Ha!”

“Yeah, okay,” Steve sighed, amused. He glanced further into the ballroom. “Well, here I go. Wish me luck.”

“Careful,” Tony warned, voice full of mirth as he began into the room. “Some of the ladies are desperate for a ring and you’re fresh meat.”

Steve sighed, not looking forward to it at all. “Thanks, Tony.” He glanced over his shoulder. Tony had turned his back to the room, opening the note to peek at it. Not very discreet. Still, it brought a smile to his lips at how obviously happy even a few words on a scrap of paper could make Tony, knowing that Bucky had written them.

.-.

Steve burst out of the doors leading to the garden and sprinted into the maze. “BUCKY!” He heard a startled noise and, forgoing any logistic nonsense, simply clawed through the hedges. “HOWARD KNOWS WE NEED TO LEAVE RIGHT NOW IMMEDIATELY THIS INSTANT.”

Tony and Bucky appeared around a corner, looking disheveled. Bucky looked harried. “Can’t you stay and get him off my tail?!”

Steve caught him by the shoulders and shook him. “You know I’m a horrible liar and Howard caught me halfway around the ballroom and weaseled it out of me we have to go now he is trying to kill me!”

“He can’t kill you. The Crown will be mad,” Tony said, sounding so reasonable that Steve almost calmed down.

Then he remembered the absolute fury on Howard’s face when he realized Tony wasn’t in the ballroom and the terror took over. “Maria Stark didn’t stop him,” he told Bucky solemnly.

“Oh my god,” Bucky squeaked, then turned, cupping Tony’s cheeks to smack a quick kiss to his lips. “Goodbye.”

“My mom’s not that bad,” Tony sighed, but Steve was grabbing Bucky’s arm and dragging him away before he could finish.

Bucky didn’t struggle, so he figured that he was agreeing with him.

#aurumacadicus writes #winterironmonth #winteriron

[contreparry]

Happy happy Fridayyy! For DADWC, I'm thinking: “You’re not breathing. Breathe.”

Here’s some pre Cullen/Trevelyan for @dadrunkwriting !

It was hard to not flinch.

Not hard, exactly. She was schooled from a young age to maintain a polite, distant expression no matter the situation she found herself in. A noblewoman must never let her displeasure show, her mother insisted with a click of her tongue and a flutter of her delicate wood and painted silk fan. A noblewoman knows when to use her words and when to let silence speak for itself. A noblewoman does not state her fears, and a Trevelyan never shows them.

If that was the case for nobles and Trevelyans, mages had them beat. Mages weren’t allowed to fear.

It didn’t stop Evelyn from nearly flinching whenever Cassandra Pentaghast rounded a corner as swiftly and silently as a cat and with an expression akin to a storm cloud, or whenever she caught the flicker of a crimson surcoat or tabard or flag fluttering in the air. She flew out of the frying pan and into the proverbial fire this time.

Lydia had to be laughing at her from where she resided in the Maker’s embrace, somewhere within and beyond the Fade. Her little chickadee Evie, a harbinger of chaos and ruin? That couldn’t possibly be her!

Evelyn missed Lydia’s sweet sarcasm so much it felt like a wound, but she couldn’t help but poke and prod at her memories of her mentor. She couldn’t help but wonder what she might say now, beyond her light teasing and gentle rebukes. You’ve come a far way from drying herbs for potions, Evie. A bit of honey might catch those flies sooner and easier than vinegar, my chickadee.

Templars are as mortal as any of us, Evelyn. They don’t know everything.

The Lydia of her memories was as frustratingly vague as her real-life counterpart was in life. Of course Templars didn’t know everything. No one knew everything. But when Evelyn was surrounded by banners and soldiers and Chantry officials and had eyes boring into the back of her head it was hard to think otherwise. Someone always knew where she was, what she was doing, what she last ate or when she last slept- frankly Evelyn wouldn’t be surprised if someone kept a detailed log on the color of her small clothes, lest they end up being controversial in some way. Heretical undergarments. What a novel idea.

“You’d find that funny,” Evelyn muttered to the phantom Lydia. “I know you.” Knew her. But Lydia was gone, there were Templar eyes everywhere, and if she didn’t find some peace and quiet soon Evelyn feared that the mask would crack and someone (anyone) would see how terrified she really was. And noblewomen didn’t speak of fear. Trevelyans didn’t show it. Mages couldn’t possess it.

So when Evelyn spied Cassandra Pentaghast storming into the room Varric Tethras claimed as his own the moment they entered Haven’s Chantry, she slipped behind heavy doors into the tiny side chapel meant for meditation and contemplative, private prayer.

She hadn’t realized the chapel (more like a slightly larger than usual linen closet) was occupied.

“Ah. Herald,” Commander Cullen looked almost startled, his brown eyes wide as he looked to the door. The door she shut behind her because she had been so, so certain that no one would be within the chapel in the late afternoon. So confident that everyone would be busy with other work to spare time for prayer and that the most faithful and zealous among those gathered at Haven wouldn’t dare interrupt anyone (even a Mage) praying. But no. She was wrong, and she found herself in tight quarters with a Templar. Flaming sword and helmet might have been removed, but the way he tied his boots, the way he kept his hair, the wariness in the eyes and tightness around the mouth- it all screamed Templar. And then there was the lyrium, less of a scent and more of a presence in the air between them, nearly smothering her with its weight and potential.

“Oh. Commander Cullen. My apologies, I’ll- I hadn’t realized- it was-“ Evelyn’s hand blindly searched for the iron ring on the door, pressing against scarred, smooth wood as she scrambled for dignity and poise. Do not have fear. If you fear there is suspicion, it will draw attention, it will spread like an infection and that’s the quickest way to lose your head-

“I was nearly finished here,” Commander Cullen replied, his voice even as he rose to his feet. Evelyn found the ring and curled her fingers around it. She gathered the shreds of what dignity remained (half-forgotten lessons and experience leading the way) and smiled politely. No teeth. Barely a turn of the lip. Eyes forward, chin tilted slightly up. You’re supposed to be here, chickadee, Lydia’s voice murmured in her ear. If you act like nothing is out of sorts, most people fall right into place.

Even Templars. Evelyn dipped her head slightly, as if she was the one allowing the Commander his brief respite and not the one who had barged in on his private moment of communion.

“No, Commander. Take your time,” she said smoothly, “My business can wai-“ Evelyn shut her mouth when Cassandra’s brassy voice rang through the Chantry.

“What do you MEAN, ‘I must have misplaced them?!’ Those letters are our only clue, you arrogant-“ the rest of her words were muffled by the sound of a door slamming shut, but while she couldn’t make out the words she understood the tone well enough. Seeker Pentaghast was furious.

Poor Messere Tethras. Evelyn couldn’t help but feel like she had somehow tossed the man into the storm’s path. If she had stood steadfast instead of hiding away, perhaps she could have kept Cassandra Pentaghast off the warpath. That’s what they would do in Ostwick: stand up for each other, cover for each other, stay strong in the face of everything. Mages couldn’t be afraid, and the best way to be brave was to stick together.

At least it had been, before Lydia- even thinking about it was a punch in the gut. A stab in the side. The First Enchanter was discovered murdered one morning and the investigation and trial was wrapped up that afternoon. The mess was cleaned up. Hushed up. And though no one spoke of it, no one breathed a word, no one quite trusted each other again. And the eyes, always the eyes of every Templar looked at them, waiting for the slightest sign of a fracture, the beginnings of a break-

“Herald? Herald,” Commander Cullen’s voice was a harsh welcome back to the here and now- flat Ferelden accent, low and soft and deceptively calm.

“Yes?” she answered. Cool. Gentile. But her voice was tight, too high, too brittle, like fracturing ice on a river that was slowly succumbing to the current’s pressure. She flinched.

“You’re not breathing,” he stated. “Breathe.” It was gentle, more of a suggestion than an order, and Evelyn exhaled softly. She took a short, shallow breath. All the while Commander Cullen watched from across the chapel, remaining by the rough-hewn statue of Andraste at the end of the tiny room. He watched her with those wide brown eyes (those eyes, those eyes!), but he never approached. It was a terrible thing, that brief moment of consideration. It broke the rules they all played by. Templars pounced at the first sign of fear, and Evelyn flinched. She feared. And yet-

Evelyn tightened her grip on the iron door handle until it felt like the metal would cut through her clammy skin.

“I… almost thought she might take offense if I were to interrupt her,” Evelyn lied. “Silly of me. Poor Messere Tethras, perhaps I should…”

“Ah, yes,” Commander Cullen quickly took up on the lie. “I believe he may need some rescue. Immediately. If you are in need of support-“

“No need,” Evelyn interrupted. “Please, finish your, ah, prayer. You have such little time to yourself, after all.” Evelyn slipped out of the chapel then, shutting the door as silently as she could manage before hurrying across the Chantry’s main hall into Varric’s cramped quarters to perform an impromptu rescue. Her heart pounded in her throat as she moved.

You’re not breathing. Breathe. You’re not breathing. Breathe. You’re not breathing. Breathe.

It was hard not to flinch. It was so, so hard not to flinch. But it was even harder to flinch before a former enemy, have them recognize it for what it was, and then refuse to take advantage of that weakness. If he had behaved as a Templar, if he had watched, assessed, dove in for the kill, it would all make sense. But he hadn’t.

“You’d find this funny, Lydia,” Evelyn mumbled before she placed her knuckles against the door that led to Varric’s room. “You always had a strange sense of humor.”

#my writing #da drunk writing circle