#silk granite

[undohersad]

Home Bar Wet Bar in Atlanta Wet bar - mid-sized transitional single-wall medium tone wood floor wet bar idea with an undermount sink, raised-panel cabinets, medium tone wood cabinets, granite countertops, blue backsplash and subway tile backsplash

#sherwin williams paint #hardwood floors #balloon shade #granite #silk balloon shade #blue tile backsplash #wine glasses

[slvthrs]

corio x reader but he has an insane breeding and lactation kink. he goes feral (but in a good way ;) when you get pregnant and keeps you home forever as a housewife to take care of him and your kids 😜

nonnie ur sooo right coryo would loose his mind when ur pregnant n omg the lactation kink?? u so get me

kinda hate this but wtvr ig

You and Corio would have most likely been n your mid 20's when you got pregnant, you were living a good life. Both being graduates from the Academy having stable jobs, you working under your father company and Corio under Dr. Gaul.

Despite his protesting you wanted to work and help the Capitol... well that was until you found out you were pregnant.

It was a shock to the both of you, probably a birth control mix up but Corio was ecstatic.

He started setting up the nursery, booked every doctors appointment and took care of your every want.

After multiple discussion, Corio finally got you to quite your job to be a stay at home mom, he convinced you by telling you he would take care of everything and you had to admit that life seemed very appeling.

When you son was born you both cried that day full of joy and pride and you had never seen Corio so vunrable.

But it was everything after the birth that was magical.

Pregnancy looked good on you. The natural glow and warmth to your face was so appealing but the one thing Corio could never get out of his mind was how different your tits looked.

The were so much bigger, practically spilling out of your top and every time you breastfeed your son, Corio was standing there ogling practically wishing he was the child.

Sex the first time after everything was even more magical. He took his time with you pushing you deeper into your shared, and now marital, bed.

Whispering your ears, "My precious wife looks so beautiful, god I missed you, missed y'r cunt."

Each kiss and peck was laced with undying affection, peppering your neck until his dipped down circling your nipple and sucking hard to the point that was your final straw and you came around him.

That night opened the floodgates- every time you were plugged up or Snow just needed some release, you were there perched upon his lap letting him teethe and paw at your tits.

One time you were busy making dinner for him and when he came home, watching you move around the kitchen in your tiny silk nightdress, god all the tension melted away and as soon as you ushered you son into bed he fucked up on the kitchen counter with your cheek pressed upon the granite.

"My little housewife, treating me so well, I have to give her, her reward."

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow fluff #bella fawns over coryo #bella's anons

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Idol Worship.

Pairing: Yandere!Devil x Reader (Christianity).

Word Count: 1.0k.

TW: Consensual Sex, Size Difference, Implied (Past) Injury To Reader, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Scarring, and Themes of Religious Trauma.

The path to His throne was paved with salt and brimstone.

Smoldering rock burnt into the soles of your feet like ember, taken fresh from the heart of the fire. Living corpses, their rotting flesh deteriorating further with ever fraught breath, laid motionless on either side of the crumbling archway, their milky eyes watching your every stumbling movement. The air was heavy with smoke and sulfur, but the buzzling of unseen insects, the stench of the decay – that was all kept in your peripheral. It was meant for someone else, someone whose crimes were far more violent and far more damning than your own. Your fate was elsewhere.

The ascent was made no easier by your anticipation, the steps carved from black onyx and made steep enough to warrant your immediate and self-inflicted dehumanization, to force you to your hands and knees in your effort to scramble upward – ever upward, as if you hadn’t yet had enough of the blinding sky. Rough granite tore into the skin of your palms, but the agony was minimal, a shadow something greater that would not numb you to more intentional agony. The heat, too, was distant, rolling over you in tender waves and seeping under your skin to coil around your ribs, to weave in and out of ragged tears in your mutilated veins. Something snapped inside your chest as you finished your climb, fresh blood washing over your aching throat, but any pain you might’ve felt faded away as a great hand descended from the clouds of smog and ash, His calloused fingertips digging into your waist, your stomach as He took you up and placed you, gingerly, on His silk-clad thigh. His touch lingered, a thumb running over your scalp as He spoke. “Oh, my glorious one,” His voice was deep and flat and beautiful. “What have they done to you?”

Anything they could. Everything they could. Your body was still plagued with the phantoms of it, the frigid cold of steel and iron against flesh and bone. You tried to speak, but your voice was gone, muted by means beyond your own. You frowned, more frustrated than you were surprised, but He did not share in your disappointment. “They are sons of the Most High, for he is kind to the ungrateful and the evil.” After a beat, He added, “I will not be so forgiving.”

His hand began to pull away, but you scrambled after of it, latching onto His wrist in a futile effort to hold Him that much closer. An airy chuckle fell from Him unmoving muzzle – His golden, slit-pupiled eyes remaining focused on some distant point as He took you into His hold once again, lifting you first to His own height. For the first time, he moved in earnest – tilting his head forward and resting his forehead against yours. “The reason the Son appeared was to destroy the Devil’s work, for the thief comes only to steal and destroy.” His breath was cool against your skin, even as anger seeped into His tone. “And now, instead, you are asked to forgive and comfort him, so that he will not be overwhelmed by excessive sorrow.”

It was more of a croak than a proper plea, hoarse and fractured at all the wrong angles. Still, you managed it, your own small hands pressed into the swell of His palm. “Please, my lamb.”

He seemed to catch himself, inhaling sharply as He shook His head. “My apologies, I forget my audience. You are altogether beautiful, my love; there is no flaw in you.” You nuzzled closer to Him, and He allowed you a moment of solace before pulling away, straightening Himself to His most dignified stature. “We have been separated for no short time. Tell me, will you not gratify the desires of the flesh?” A note of humor, a forked tongue allowed to skirt gingerly over your neck. “Will you not allow me to show the length of my devotion?”

You didn’t need to answer, it was a given that you would. His delicate tongue ran over the lacerations on your calves, your thighs - smearing dried blood and soothing open wounds. It flicked upward, lapping at the twin scars on either side of your chest, then the bruises painted across your collarbones, around the base of your throat. His hand shifted, wrapping around your waist, His hold firm and steady as He lowered you onto his length. There were other options – as many shapes and variations as a lustful heart could dream of – but His cock was among His most impressive features. The shaft alone matched your arm in length and your midriff in girth, and yet, it pierced you without resistance, filling you to the brim before He was so much as half-sheathed inside of you. Your knees pressed into his lap, your hand grasping for purchase against his broad chest, but you felt no fear, nor was your exertion necessary in the face of His willingness to serve. He let out a raspy breath, allowing His head to lull back as He thrust gently into you from below. “Earthly one, glorious one,” The pet name fell from His lips like milk and butter and honey. “We will lead each other astray. We will be the force by which the greatest love is defined.”

A growl of a moan as your walls clenched around Him, a sharp snap of His hips. “We will be bound together in perfect harmony,” His hand found the underside of your chin, tilting your head back with only the upmost delicacy. “And those who try to separate us will face only the most just of retribution.”

Your eyes met His, that wonderous gold melting into softened mortality. Where there should have been revulsion, there was only warmth, only light. Foolishly, for a moment, you allowed yourself to scorn the shine of the heavens, to loathe all things that were not Him.

You allowed yourself to believe that you would need nothing else, not so long as His gaze fell upon you.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere oc #yandere god #yandere demon #yanderecore #yancore

[seren1tyhaze]

Vibration

PAIRING: dilf!mark lee x afab reader

WORD COUNT: 2.9K

SUMMARY: Going home with Jaemin after another date leads to a night (and morning after) that you will never forget. Especially after you meet his incredibly hot Uncle Mark.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I present my official gift to my fellow Markfs for our beloved Mark Lee's birthday. This has been a long-standing, half-finished wip that was heavily inspired by MarkLeeInARobe2023 during that one live during tds2 where we are all pretty sure he wasn't wearing any underwear. Hope you all had a wonderful Mark Day and that you enjoy this gift from me to you :)

WARNINGS: explicit smut, alcohol consumption, mild swearing

PLAYLIST: Vibration by Mark Lee, Daddy Issues by Demi Lovato

Beast on the loose, rocking on Close your eyes and look Feel the vibration Do you feel alive?

~~

“Shhhhhh…Jaem! We are going to get in trouble!” you squeal, dodging the tall man’s grabby hands as you wobble, almost dropping into the sparkling water of the pool under the night sky.

“Loosen up, silly,” he slurs back, bottle of tequila dangling from his long fingers dangerously over the slate tiles under your bare feet.

A third date with a cute guy from the IT department at work had turned into after dinner drinks and after after dinner drinks and dancing and shots and now you were stumbling around in the backyard of Jaemin’s house…?

“This is your house, right?” you ask, pausing and cocking your head to the right in punctuation as you watch him peel off his undershirt, his lightweight sweater long discarded half a bottle ago.

“I live here, yes,” he chuckles back, dropping down to let his feet dip into the light blue water of the beautiful pool set in the middle of the yard.

“My uncle is letting me stay with him for a few months before I find my own place.”

You take a moment to glance towards the large house in front of you. The entire back wall is floor to ceiling windows, giving a beautiful view of a modern and spacious kitchen, dim lighting illuminating granite countertops and shiny appliances. Jaemin’s uncle must be another one of these rich tech bros who never grew out of spending his money on shiny things. At least in this case you were benefiting from it.

You think you see some movement in the living room and are about to say something before you hear a loud splash and water shoots over your bare legs, dampening the flowy skirt of your thin dress.

Gasping, you shoot daggers at the smiley man in the pool, watching with interest as he dips his head back, running slender fingers through long auburn locks. You smile at him softly, tequila or lust clouding your judgment as you descend the stairs in the pool to meet him in the middle where your feet barely touch the bottom.

Jaemin’s hands find your waist underwater, pulling you closer to him as your dress billows out in the water, exposing you under the shimmering lights. A devious grin forms across his beautiful features as he tightens his grip on your waste and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Jaemin…don’t even think about it…” you warn, placing your hands on his shoulders preemptively.

Suddenly you are being tossed in the air and back into the water, head being pulled under the water and a muffled shriek bursting from your throat. You gasp for air as you break through the surface again only to find the charming boy in front of you laughing maniacally, clutching his middle underwater.

“Na Jaemin!” comes a loud voice, causing you both to snap your heads back towards the house, to find a blonde man with round wire frame glasses on the tip of his nose standing in black silk pajamas near the glass sliding door.

Jaemin is suddenly next to you and your heart is racing as the man takes another step closer to the pool, stepping into the moonlight. The rippling water of the pool is casting bright flashes across his face and strong frame, pants hugging his thighs before flaring out in a perfectly tailored length. His hair is on the longer side, similar to Jaemin’s but a beautiful pale blonde, dry and silky.

“Uncle Markkkk,” Jaemin slurs, tossing an arm around your shoulder, hand tangling instinctively in your long wet hair. You shrug violently in an attempt to get away from him, blush flaring up on your cheeks as you meet the stern man’s gaze.

“It’s late, use the indoor hot tub if you’re going to be out here. I don’t need pissed off neighbors,” he adds before turning on his heel to head back in the house. You don’t miss how his plump ass is accentuated by the silky material and have a hard time dragging your eyes away. Before he’s even out of sight, Jaemin’s hands are hungrily all over you again, sliding up your wet back to massage your shoulders.

“Jaemin, stop,” you warn, avoiding his kiss with a shake of your head. Getting caught has thrust you back to an embarrassed reality and you’re already plotting your escape via a long Uber ride back to your apartment.

“Don’t worry about Mark, he’s cool, I promise,” Jaemin coos, connecting his lips with your neck, wicked tongue making quick work at marking the skin there.

You melt under his touch, weak for that particular spot, and close the gap to connect further with his chest. Slotting your lips with his, you lick behind his teeth greedily, wrapping your arms around his neck and sighing against his lips.

“Fine, but take me inside, you owe me a shower and warm clothes,” you whisper against his mouth, linking your legs around his waist and grinding against his crotch as a silent promise.

The next morning you wake up to an empty bed and sun streaming through the window. It feels late but when you check your phone you realize it was around the time you would wake up on a weekday. The house is silent and Jaemin’s backpack is gone from where he had messily strewn it the night before.

A note on his desk indicates he had been called into the office on this peaceful Saturday to deal with a possible data breach and you are welcome to anything in the kitchen. You check your phone to realize he’s already sent you money for an Uber and your heart sinks. He was cute, cuter than you usually went for and way too nice for you. You now know this has to be the last date with him, your commitment issues flaring up.

Mk usually plays tennis on Saturdays so the coast should be clear. Call me later xx

You sink into his desk chair, crumpling the note and letting it fall into the small waste basket. After a quick wash of your face and brush of your teeth, you shrug into one of Jaemin’s oversized hoodies, letting it drop long on your thighs and covering the boxer briefs he had lent you last night. Combing through your hair with your fingers, you pull the hood up over your head and pad downstairs, louder than you would have in someone’s home.

Making your way into the kitchen, you go straight to the fridge, yanking it open to find glass bottles of water lining the door. You uncap one and take it down in one gulp, thirsty beyond belief.

“Jaeminnie, we need to talk about last night,” comes the same voice who had startled you by the pool the night before.

You freeze, pushing the fridge door shut slowly. In the hoodie and boxers, with your hair and frame covered, you know you could easily be mistaken for the boy you had gone home with. You had similar build and heights and a quick glance over your shoulder confirms that Mark hadn’t lowered the newspaper he was reading.

“You can’t just keep fucking every beautiful girl you meet in my pool. What would my brother say about how I’m letting you spend your summer?” he continues in a condescending tone as you back up against the island, nervous to turn around.

“And by the sounds of you two in the shower, it sounds like she’s sexy as hell and quite the catch, so don’t you think it’s about time you settled down?” he finishes, lifting his tone up in a question, never lowering the paper.

You place the empty bottle down on the glossy countertop and cross the kitchen to the table where he sits, placing manicured fingertips on the top of the paper to get his attention.

“Quite the catch? Sexy as hell? Oh do tell me more about this beautiful girl,” you reply with a smirk, pulling the newspaper from the shocked man’s face.

“Jesus, fuck, I’m so sorry…” Mark trails off as you push the hood off your head, shaking your locks temptingly and giving him a quizzical cock of your brow.

“Don’t be sorry,” you start, leaning your hip against the edge of the table as you watch panic wash over his face.

His face looks freshly washed with no doubt luxury skincare applied immediately after and he is lounging casually in a dark blue robe with white trim, ML embroidered in gold thread at the chest. His toned chest is peaking through, belt loose at the waist and legs spread wide, bare legs ending in soft slippers planted on the floor.

“I heard someone leave early so I assumed it was you. I had no idea you were still here,” he tries to explain, fidgeting with the dangling edge of the belt. His eyes are struggling to meet yours, as you train your gaze down at him with your hands now shoved in the hoodie pocket.

“He had to head to work. He said you wouldn’t be here,” you reply softly, now feeling bad for grilling him as he squirmed below you. He looked soft and sweet in the morning light, drastically different from the stern fatherly tone he took last night at the edge of the pool.

“Can I make you a cappuccino? Some eggs?” he asks, sitting up in the chair, bare knees bumping against yours and sending a shiver up your spine.

“Hmm I was thinking of how I could repay you for your hospitality. This is quite a beautiful home you have here, Uncle Mark,” you reply, brushing your hand across his that was resting on his knee.

He winces at the name but looks down at your hand on his, turning his over to let your fingers lace with his. The tips of his fingers are calloused and you silently wonder if he plays guitar, having noticed some framed records on the wall on the stairs.

“Mark, please, just Mark,” he replies, voice coming out gravelly, eyes dying to roll into the back of his head at the name.

“And it’s fine, I don’t know how to make eggs anyways,” he adds, squeezing your hand gently as you move your other to the belt at his waist.

“Of course a filthy rich guy like you doesn’t cook,” you reply lightly, dropping down to your knees, releasing his hand and placing both your palms on his knees, knocking the edge of the robe out of the way to expose his bare thighs. As far as you can tell, he isn’t wearing any underwear and the thought of his hardening cock bare against his thigh makes you squeeze your legs together.

Mark widens his legs as his eyes narrow, watching you sitting back on your legs in front of him, baggy material pooling around your thighs. Before you can reach to pull the knot of his belt loose, he leans down and you feel your eyes slide shut, assuming he’s going to kiss you. He chuckles instead, breath warm across your lips as he tugs at the hood of the sweatshirt.

“Take this off now,” he commands, sitting back up in the chair and pulling at the belt himself, letting it slip to the floor. The robe falls open, revealing a toned and lean torso accompanied by muscular arms. His cock is hard and flushed red against his stomach and an evil smile is spread across his lips.

As soon as you’ve removed the offending material, your eyes go immediately to his cock, teeth sinking into your lower lip as you take in the sight of him. He’s dripping with sex appeal and you can’t help but stare. He’s definitely older than you and Jaemin but can’t be too much older by the look of his physique. His face is young and the blonde dye of his hair makes it impossible to detect any grays, if he even has any.

“Now where’s that thank you I was promised?” he asks, tipping his chin down to speak to you, hand balled into a fist at his knee. His eyes continue trailing down, landing on your breasts being pressed together by your bare upper arms as your hands rest on your knees. You look like a dream kneeling before him in nothing but gray boxers and it’s taking everything in him not to fuck you over the counter top.

You lean forward, sliding your hands gently up his smooth inner thighs, taking his leaking cock in your hand and lowering your lips to the head. You listen as Mark’s breathing slows and hear a soft moan slide from his lips as you close your lips around him, running the point of your tongue over his sensitive slit.

You chuckle at the noise, sending vibrations across him, using your hand to work the base of his shaft as you kitten lick his head. You let your teeth drag lightly against him every once and a while, tasting his woody musk. You let your eyes slip shut, rocking back and forth on your knees, the energy coursing through your body making you feel more alive than ever.

A disgruntled noise from above draws your gaze up and his hand is suddenly in your hair, pulling the long locks into a ponytail to pull you off his dick.

“Come on, sweetie, I know you can do better than that. I heard how Jaemin fucked your throat last night - my bed shares a wall with the shower,” he grunts out, voice dripping with filth as he accurately recounts your actions from the night before.

Spurred on by his words, you take his cock deep in your mouth, brushing up against the back of your throat as you hollow your cheeks around him. You’re suddenly desperate to prove how well you can take him, despite being slightly bigger than Jaemin and holding far more confidence in the way he carries himself.

Mark lets out a high pitch yelp and you swear you can hear his voice break as he does, sliding his hand down your neck and to your upper back, causing you to shift forward and take him impossibly deeper. Your nose is pressed up into neatly trimmed hair and your eyes begin to water as he lifts his ass off the chair to thrust into your throat. You shift to accommodate him and look up through your lashes to him.

“Holy hell, that’s good,” he groans, arm muscles tensing as he digs his fingertips into your back, no doubt leaving bruises there.

You slide off him, dragging your tongue on the underside of his shaft and swirling around his tip. He squeezes his eyes shut tight behind his glasses, free hand pushing through strands of blonde that had fallen in front of his face.

Without much warning he is shooting warmth across your lips and chest, letting out a deep groan and reaching down to fist at himself through his orgasm. He looks down at you with a smile, lips curling up as if he’s about to say something devious.

“MELT! Babe, are you here?” comes a loud voice, echoing off the walls of the kitchen and causing you to pull back, heart pounding in your chest.

A tall, long-legged man in a polo shirt and athletic shorts appears, his socked feet coming to a stop at the sight of you on your knees on the glossy floor. His hair is dark and lightly permed, long bangs hanging perfectly over his eyebrows and a dainty gold chain laying against his tanned neck.

He gives you a long look up and down, eyes pausing on the cum glazing your lips as you freeze and dart nervous eyes over to Mark, who looks unbothered.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here? Looks like Markie found something fun to do instead of tennis this morning,” comes his warm voice as he leans against the entryway to the kitchen.

“Ah Hyuckie, let me be, I texted you while you were golfing,” Mark says with a roll of his eyes and a huff, reaching a soft hand to your chin to pull you to your feet.

“Meet my not-so-better-half, Haechan,” Mark adds, comment directed at you as he brushes his lips against the corner of your mouth, licking away the remains of his release left there.

You gulp and drop your head sheepishly, looking down to your bare chest and covering it nervously with your arms. Twice in less than 24 hours you had been caught in a compromising position and this time you simply wanted to melt into the floor.

Haechan closes the space between you and you feel a hand in your hair, pulling you up gently to meet his gaze. His eyes are sparkling and beautiful, dark moles dotting his cheek and lips plump and soft.

“She’s cute,” he says to Mark, dipping his head down to brush his lips against your collarbone, tongue darting out to taste some of Mark’s cum on your skin.

“Tastes good too,” he adds with a smile.

“Did you enjoy sucking off my husband, darling?” he asks, dark eyes swimming with mischief. He looks breathtaking up close, features just as pretty as Mark’s and voice dripping with lust.

“Husband…” you trail off, unable to form a coherent sentence. You shoot daggers at Mark, who merely smiles and rolls his eyes again before moving to the coffee machine and starting to make another coffee.

What the fuck had you gotten yourself into?

~~

#nct smut #nct x reader #mark lee fanfic #mark lee x reader #mark lee smut #mark lee #nct fanfic #jaemin x reader #jaemin smut

[seaslugfanclub]

Hi! I really love your Disney Villains x reader content! Especially the "Scaredy Villain", "Time in the Spotlight", and the "No, I'm their favorite" one. Speaking of that, I remember Hades mentioned that he was one of the first to meet Y/N, which got me wondering, what were Y/N's first interactions with each of the villains like? 🤔

Once again, I love all of your works! And I can't wait to see you do more in the future at your own pace and time! 😊 💕

So I’ve actually gotten a couple asks about this, so decided to answer all of them with this! Since all the Villains meeting (Y/N) would take way too long to write in one post, I’ve decided to make this a series of one shots, so stay tuned!

I, of course have to start with Hades. (Since his introduction is my most fleshed out) but I’m slowly but surely getting all the Villains interactions in order! Hope you enjoy 💙

Meeting the Villains: Prt. 1

Hades

TW: panic attack

—————————————

It was (Y/N)s first day working at the Disney Parks, and they were on the verge of the panic attack of the century

The crying babies, excited children, sickly smell of sweat mixed with the food stands, multicolored rides, and the unrelenting heat all melted together to create the perfect sensory overload

They felt like they’re about to throw up. Or pass out. Or throw up and then pass out. Screw employee training, they needed to get out of here.

Near hyperventilation, (Y/N) quickly stumbled to the quietest location they could find, leading them to a skinny alleyway between two buildings. Immediately they got on the ground, putting their head between their legs and taking deep breaths

Slowly (Y/N) began to calm down, the relative silence of the alleyway a balm to their ears, and the nostalgic scent of cigar smoke really helped ground them— wait….

Lifting their head up to make a spare glance to their left made (Y/N) scramble onto their feet. There — hidden in the shadows of the alleyway was the lord of the dead himself, his most lugubriousness, Hades, smoking a lengthy cigar and staring down at (Y/N) with a sardonic grin.

(Y/N)’s heard about these “holograms” Disney released into their parks, hell, it’s all they’ve heard about since they’ve been hired. And sure, (Y/N)’s seen a couple characters from afar as their employment trainer toured them around the park. But to see an actual one up close? This was a first.

Hades looked so… real. The blue flames atop his head flickered into the air, fanned by the light breeze of the afternoon. His skin was chipped and pitted, a similar texture to granite. Even his chiton looked like something spun from the finest silks, his whole body too detailed to be a simple projection of light.

…..

“So are you just gonna stare at me like an idiot, or…?” Hades took a drag of his cigar, blowing the smoke in (Y/N)’s face, causing them to hack in response.

“ *cough*—Sorry! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you, it’s just—“

“Ya first time seeing one of us?” Hades interrupted, “yeah, I figured. And lemme guess, it’s your first day at the circus, huh? Don’t think you’ll last long if you abandon your post because your a little nervous~”

(Y/N) grimaced at Hades jab, retreating into this alleyway was supposed to be a brief respite. Their brain was too fried to think about the consequences of talking back to one of Disneys prized characters, the only thing (Y/N) felt looking up at Hades was indignation

“Oh please, I’m not the only one here who’s supposed to be somewhere else. And smoking??? At THE Disney parks??? It’s my first day, I’ll get off easy, but you? If we’re caught, I’m only gonna get chewed out once.”

A multitude of expressions passed over Hades face. Surprise, anger, disgust, amusement, before finally settling into one of forced resignation. It was a hard pill to swallow knowing he wasn’t the one in charge here. The fucking mouse was.

“Ohoho, I bet. I’m sure any consequence of yours will be dropped if you go off and tattle on me~” Hades seethed, finishing the cigar off in one drag as his flames sparked red.

(Y/N) huffed, going to lean against the wall again, “Are you kidding me? I’m not a narc.” They waved off the imaginary scenario, “I’m here the same reason you are, so why not make a deal. You like those don’t you? If you won’t say anything, I won’t either. Let’s just enjoy what little privacy we can in peace.”

Hades stood in silence for a bit, he didn’t want to sound stereotypical, but this newbie wasn’t like the other park employees he’s had to deal with.

Usually the park members would act one of three ways; either they’d cower in fear, submissive towards his biting remarks (his favorite), they’d fail to see his sentience and pass him off as a lifeless hologram (his least favorite), or act all high and mighty always admonishing anything he enjoys.

But to have someone talk back to him, but not follow the parks rules to a T? Well, Hades had to see where this went.

“Y’know what, kid? It’s a deal.”

————————————————————————

I can’t wait to share with you all what I have planned, I’m so excited!!! I also want to thank you all for your continued support of my work, I seriously didn’t expect so many people to like my silly writing, but here you are!!!

I see all of your asks and I promise I’m working on them! Just expect turnout rate to slow down with my college’s spring semester rolling around❤️

#disney villains #self insert #disney imagine #disney x reader #disney hades #hades x reader

[honeybcj]

jartylus microfic

— james & barty have a plan, but they just need regulus on board. it shouldn’t take much, but they are willing to go above and beyond. or, the body shots au (mild nsfw, not explicit, but implied sexual content, body shots, mentions of weed) 1.7k

this one goes out to the anon ask about james & barty doing body shots off of regulus, so here we go <3 i told @stagpdf it would be a thing…………

One thing is for sure, when James has a plan to make something happen, he’s more than determined. Thankfully, his brewing idea is easily and quickly embraced by Barty. Even if it means keeping both their mouths shut, not uttering a single word to Regulus about their plans.

It started as James and Barty butting heads. A little playful rivalry that always teetered into the realms of austentacious flirting. Without fail, every single time, it would make Regulus hot in the cheeks, shaking his head fondly from afar.

His reactions turned into casual, yeah, I’d let him fuck me and just imagine me watching as you two got each other off. Had this been any other person, James would have let the jealousy unfurl in the pit of his belly. Go all gnashing teeth and clawing fingernails. But no, this is different.

There’s that part of James that can’t deny the palpable tension between him and Barty, fueled even more by endless bickering and the occasional playful shove. And it’s Barty. Someone Regulus has been friends with for years, so no it doesn’t surprise James in the slightest that there’s some special third thing that describes the relationship between Regulus and Barty.

So no, again, it really doesn’t come as any surprise when Barty said yes, sporting a wolfish grin. The kind of look in his eyes that screams trouble, or let’s play.

After a couple weeks of deliberation, the answer is planted right in their hands.

The apartment is a hazy blur of smoke and the smell of alcohol permeates the air. Somewhere, someone cranks up the music. Each note courses through James’ veins. He feels alive. And Regulus? He looks good enough to eat.

Decked out in pants that hug him in all the right spots and a silk, charcoal gray button up that has somehow become two buttons undone. It makes James’ mouth water, his pants tightening because not a single soul should ever look that good. It’s heartbreaking.

Pandora’s apartment is vast. The kitchen houses an expansive island, littered with half empty bottles, lime wedges, and green plastic cups. People mill about, talking and laughing, sharing drinks and getting high. The lights are dim, but plentiful enough for James to make out every move people are making.

From across the kitchen, Barty meets his gaze, raising his brow in a challenging manner. There’s that signature James Potter grin that appears on his face, nodding once at Barty who looks utterly thrilled by James’ response.

“I say it’s time for body shots!” Barty shouts, gaining the attention of nearly everyone in the room.

There’s a chorus of cheers as James turns to find Regulus watching him with heavy eyes, a little blood shot from the joint he had been sharing with Evan and Dorcas.

Everyone gathers in the kitchen quickly, Pandora shuffling bottles around to clear a space on the center island.

Arms slink around James waist, familiar. He relaxes against the touch, a chin resting gently on his shoulder.

“Wanna go first, baby?” James asks softly, voice like honey.

Regulus hums, releasing James from his grasp. He circles the man, cocking his brow. His voice comes out all smoky and warm, “Let’s give them a show.”

And a show it would be.

If only Regulus knew what he had up his sleeve.

Regulus shucks off the silk material from his shoulders, shoving it into James’ hands. Keeping his eyes locked with James, he climbs onto the counter and lays down. It makes James’ heart hammer inside his chest.

With careful hands, he trails his fingers along the smooth granite countertop before procuring a bottle of tequila. He pours a generous amount into the dip of Regulus’ collarbone, mouth watering with sheer desire and want.

Teasingly, James cocks his head to the side, gaze meeting Regulus’. With all the saccharine he can muster, he says, “Crouch, would you like to do the honors?”

Regulus’ eyes go wide, his mouth about to open in protest, but James hushes him by shoving a lime wedge between his lips. A soft hmph passes Regulus’ lips. His eyes are wild, going back and forth between James and Barty, who is now hovering over Regulus with a satisfied grin on his mouth.

“Alright there, Reggie?” Barty teases, everyone around them murmuring softly amongst themselves, watching with eager eyes.

Per usual, Regulus rolls his eyes, which is enough of a response for Barty to swoop down and lap up the burning liquid from Regulus’ neck.

Right then and there, James thinks he might combust. Barty’s pink tongue is vicious, lapping greedily until he’s gotten his fill. And if James feels his cock twitch in his pants when Barty takes the lime wedge from between Regulus’ lips, it’s nobody’s business but his own.

Cheers erupt around them, and both Barty and James share a look. James, eyes dark and needy, while Barty looks two seconds from ravishing Regulus right then and there on the table. And James would let him; let all their friends watch Barty fuck Regulus with reckless abandon.

Far and few times does Regulus get lost for words. Or astonished by anything, truthfully, but in this moment, Regulus lays atop the counter, chest rising and falling rapidly. Like he enjoyed what just happened. Molten lava pools in James’ belly.

“James, babe,” Barty liberally uses the term of endearment, fluttering his eyelashes all pretty-like. “I have an idea.”

“Huh, that so?” James breathes out, already prepared for what’s to happen.

“Barty, what are you—” Regulus begins, but cuts off when Barty haphazardly pours more tequila down Regulus’ chest, all the way down to his bellybutton.

James licks his lips. They’ve won.

The room goes silent, nobody aware of what is about to happen. But James and Barty know. They’ve planned this.

Regulus’ pale skin glistens with tequila, little droplets of the liquid dripping down his chest. Oh, James wants to eat.

Barty beckons James forward with a finger, a salacious grin on his mouth. “Can’t back out now, Potter.”

“Don’t plan on it,” James throws back, trailing a finger down Regulus’ flank. He shivers beneath the touch, abdomen clenching.

It’s unspoken, but it happens. One second, there’s a heated stare down happening between James and Barty and the next, both of them mouths are attached to Regulus’ torso, devouring the man’s skin. Licking and sucking until the taste of tequila on their tongues is replaced by skin. The sweetest taste—James favorite taste.

Regulus gasps, loud. It’s sharp and piercing, ringing in James’ ears. Goosebumps pop up along Regulus’ skin, hands pressing hard into the countertops. Both James and Barty know what’s happening. They can feel it.

That warmth in James’ belly intensifies when he locks eyes with Barty, James slowly trailing his tongue up Regulus’ torso from his belly button and Barty licking avidly down Regulus’ sternum.

And they meet.

It’s even more than James ever thought. The feeling of another mouth on his. Hot and wet, the lingering traces of tequila coating his tongue. They don’t keep it chaste, no. It’s all tongue and spit. Selfish teeth digging into lower lip, and James outright moans unabashedly at the feeling of Barty’s canines piercing his skin.

You could hear a pin drop in the room. It was that silent. The only noise being emitted was the hum the the music from the other room and the crude sounds of James and Barty’s mouths dueling it out.

James has had his fair share of kisses, but this one? It’s unlike anything he’s experienced before. Needy and heavy. Hot and desperate. Fueled solely on mutual hatred and pent up frustration.

He doesn’t know how long it goes on for, completely lost in the moment, but when it does end, both Barty and him stare at each other, eyes glassy and mouths kiss-swollen. He’s sure they both probably look insane.

Nobody speaks, just watching with slack jaws until someone lets out a loud whoop, whoop! And everyone is clapping and shouting a mix of what the fuck and hell yeah!

Finally, by some miracle, James pulls his focus away from Barty who is now leaning up against the counter acting like he just won the damn lottery. All smug and nonchalant and definitely more composed than James is feeling at the moment.

But what breaks James the most is the look on Regulus’ face. He’s pushed up onto his elbows, undoubtedly having had the best seat in the show for what just happened. His eyes are wide, jaw practically on the floor, pink dusting his cheeks in the most beautiful of ways.

James can’t help but envision that same pink dusting Regulus’ cheeks when he’s being bent over and fucked by Barty. It stirs the pot of rampant want inside his chest.

Regulus doesn’t say anything, just watches. Eyes flit between James and Barty, torso covered in the remnants of tequila and dried spit.

“Jamie,” Regulus fucking whimpers.

James knows everyone is trying their best to keep their focus elsewhere. Come on, it’s not that difficult to read the fucking room. Especially after what just happened. And Regulus’ pathetic whimper really and truly doesn’t help anything.

Barty leans forward, ducking down to whisper something into Regulus’ ear. By the way Regulus’ cheeks heat up even more, turning an ungodly red, James knows something filthy left Barty’s mouth, meant only for Regulus’ ears.

“We’re going,” is all Regulus says as he pushes himself off the counter.

Regulus practically storms out of the room, desperately trying to shrug his shirt back on, fingers fumbling helplessly with the buttons.

God, how they’ve really won this one.

A low voice fills his eyes, mirth dancing in its tone, “I’d say that was a success.”

James nods, agreeing, “Oh absol—” James stops, choking on his own breath when Barty slaps his ass. Hard.

“Come on, Potter,” Barty chuckles, “we’ve got places to be.”

With a shaky inhale, James nods again, turning his head over his shoulder to get one last look at Barty. Not humble about it in the slightest, Barty laughs, something wicked.

The plan may have succeeded, but James had no idea how he would make it out of this night alive.

#jartylus #james potter #barty crouch jr #regulus black #james x barty x regulus #jartylus microfic #the marauders #han’s microfics

[monstersandmaw]

Laces for a Lady - 18th century poly shifter romance (Part one, sfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me. 

Well folks, here it is. You said you were interested, so I hope it meets expectations! Here's part one for you, of a multi part story. If you want to kno wmore about it, you can find some more info here, as well as a little 'mood board'.

Content: sfw, the daughter of a country gentleman from Sussex relocates to a sleepy fishing village in Cornwall in order to become the paid companion of a young widow, and meets some of the locals on her arrival. Wordcount: 3972

Five and twenty ponies, Trotting through the dark - Brandy for the Parson, 'Baccy for the Clerk. Laces for a lady; letters for a spy, Watch the wall my darling while the Gentlemen go by! ~ from ‘A Smugglers’ Song’, Rudyard Kipling (1906)

In the cool, lavender light of a late spring dawn, a gaff-rigged cutter drew into the sheltering arms of a small bay at high tide, and quietly dropped anchor. As if the soft splash had awoken him, a cockerel spluttered to life in a farmyard somewhere inland, but most of the villagers were already up and awake and steering their small, secret fleet of boats out from the golden crescent of sand beneath the cliffs to meet the waiting ship fresh from Roscoff.

Beneath the waves, where churning kelp moored itself in unyielding handfuls to the ancient granite of the sea floor, a long, serpentine shadow snaked between the stalks, and the currents of the coastline subtly shifted. Any revenue men trying to sail along the coast from Fowey to catch the smugglers would have found the wind and tide set dead against them, and in the subtle wake that wafted from the mottled, eel-like tail as it passed unseen, the waters of the secluded inlet calmed beneath the keels of the scurrying fishing boats. The drag of the oars through the waves lessened, and muscles already tired from heaving and hefting goods up the cliff moved a fraction easier for the unexpected boon.

Between them over the next hour, the gathered men and women shifted their haul of half anker barrels and dozens of crates and boxes of goods ashore. The small kegs of rich, French cognac would fetch a pretty price all across Cornwall, and along with the liquor came smaller luxuries like lace and silk, and bundles of tobacco and spiced tea, all meticulously wrapped in oil cloth to keep the sea and the salt and the water out.

And when the speedy, slender ship was riding noticeably higher in the water, the locals simply melted away into the countryside like so many mice from a late summer granary before the excise men even knew the ship from Guernsey had visited the cove at all.

Fifteen miles away, as the sun breached the horizon and cast its first rays of warmth along bellies of fleecy clouds and the flanks of blossoming hedgerows below, a stagecoach lurched and rumbled westwards along potholed roads, and a young woman stared out of the grimy window as the horses carried her into a new chapter of her life.

After leapfrogging some two hundred miles or so along the staging stations that dotted the South Coast, with nothing but a small trunk of her belongings and a thrice-read, dog-eared novel for company, Eleanor Bywater was more than ready to see the back of that infernal stagecoach. Had it not been for the small but inconveniently bulky travelling case sitting at her feet, she might have hired a horse and ridden from the last staging inn at Plymouth to reach the secluded fishing village of Polgarrack, but given that the trunk held all her worldly belongings, she had not been quite desperate enough to escape the discomfort of hard seats and poor suspension to abandon it.

Bouncing along in the nearly-empty stagecoach, she studiously tried to ignore the older woman sitting opposite her. She’d stared intently at Nel since they'd left Plymouth behind that morning, and her scrutiny had begun to make that last twenty mile stretch feel much, much longer.

Finally, after jouncing over a pothole deep enough to start prospecting for copper ore at the bottom, Nel gasped and then raised her eyes to meet the woman’s openly curious stare. She found sympathy for her own discomfort, and a small degree of kindly amusement too. 

“Where are you headed, miss?” the stranger asked after Nel raised the hint of an eyebrow at her as the silence stretched.

“Polgarrack.”

At that, the woman’s grey eyes narrowed in confusion. “Now what takes a young miss like you to an old fishing village like Polgarrack?”

She looked to be in her fifties, though a life beside the harsh sea had weathered her features somewhat, and her wiry grey hair was covered by a simple linen cap. Her dress was dark and plain, though there was a hint of tired lace around the neck and cuffs. Her hands had the tough, reddened look of someone who scrubbed pots and salted fish, while Nel’s own hands were smooth and soft, if a little ink stained from sending a letter to her friend before leaving the inn that morning.

Nel laughed quietly and shrugged. “There’s no mystery to it,” she said. “I am to be employed as a companion to the widowed Lady Penrose at Heath Top House. I am expected there this afternoon.”

Given that only ladies of relatively high social standing themselves tended to become a ‘lady’s companion’, the older woman made a hasty re-evaluation of her fellow traveller, and her already ruddy cheeks flushed a darker shade as she cleared her throat and looked away.

“Begging your pardon, miss,” she said. “We don’t get many new faces in Polgarrack, is all. I didn’t mean to pry or cause offence with my questions.”

“No harm in a little curiosity,” Nel said, trying to put the stranger at ease to avoid any further awkwardness between them on the remainder of their journey. “I take it you’re from Polgarrack yourself then?”

“Oh, born and raised, miss,” she chortled. She eyed the forest green redingote Nel wore, with its rather masculine high collar, wide lapels and small, gold pocket watch dangling on a chain, and the contrasting sage green skirts beneath, and no doubt made one or two judgements of her own about the young lady. “And yourself? You don’t sound as though you’re from these parts at all, if I may be so bold.”

Nel smiled. “I’ve come from Sussex.”

The woman’s watery, grey-blue eyes widened almost comically and she gasped. “’at's a bloody long way, miss! And all on your own?” She shook her head but remembered herself and mumbled, “Begging your pardon.”

“You’re right,” Nel sighed, letting her gaze slide to the window to watch the countryside roll past in a blur of salt-bleached grass and vibrant yellow gorse flowers. “It is a bloody long way.” And her spine and backside felt every lump and bump and lurch of the stagecoaches from Sussex to Cornwall. With a warmer smile, she turned back to the woman. “My name is Eleanor, but most people call me Nel.”

“Agatha,” she replied with a grandmotherly smile of her own for the young woman. “But everyone calls me Aggie. My husband, Martin, is the village carter and smith, and we’ve got four boys, all of them either fishermen or miners. They all married too, so I’ve got nine grandchildren, if you can believe it!”

Nel offered Aggie her congratulations and another little smile, and then ventured to ask, “Will you tell me a bit about the place? I should like to know more about it, since it is to be my home for the foreseeable future.”

Aggie brightened even more and shuffled her plain, dark skirts, giving a wince and a grunt as the coach lurched over a pothole and the driver cursed audibly above them. Settled, if not entirely comfortable, she began.

“Well, see now. Folks has been fishing these waters for time out of mind. Pilchards is our mainstay, o’course, but the folks over St. Austell way mine clay, and obviously there’s copper and tin mines all over in the north of Cornwall. Mining here is as old as fishing, but it’s starting to dry up here and there now, o’course.”

She barely paused to draw breath before barrelling on, and Nel sat and listened while the older woman talked.

“Now, your Lady Penrose married into the Penrose family — see, she’s from Bath herself originally, though I can’t rightly remember what her family name was, but…” Nel let Agatha's potted history of the fishing and mining community wash over her, paying just enough attention to make polite sounds at the right pauses, but the discomfort of the journey and a decided lack of sleep was beginning to wear her attention span down to a single, fraying thread.

After two hours in the swaying, rolling coach, she felt woozy and weak-stomached, but with Aggie’s near-constant chatter, she at least had a better understanding of the politics of the little village than she’d ever have gained in six months on her own. She’d also learned why Aggie had been in Plymouth, since most folks never had any reason to travel further than the bounds of their own parish. Agatha’s sister’s husband had apparently been killed in the American Revolutionary War some ten years earlier, and since the widow’s health wasn’t the best these days, Aggie made the trip along the coast when she could to see her and take care of her.

Nel’s ticket took her as far as Whitcross, a desolate intersection of paler roads on a clifftop overlooking the tightly-nestled fishing port below, and away across the heather and tufted grass of the heath, she could just see an old manor house in the distance, flanked by tall copper beeches and ash trees. It looked slightly further away than she had anticipated, and she glanced apprehensively down at the travelling trunk at her feet.

Still, she was aching for fresh air and to be free of the sickening motion of the carriage, so she took the driver’s hand and allowed him to guide her safely down onto the hard-packed surface of the road before he lifted her case down for her as well.

From inside, Aggie peered out and scowled disapprovingly. “Now just you wait a moment,” she barked at the driver, who cocked an eyebrow but did pause. “Did they not send someone for you, dearie?” she asked Nel, still leaning out of the doorway and peering about like a disgruntled badger, and using the endearment freely. Apparently, two hours of talking non-stop at Nel had removed any pretence of formality or sense of social distance. Nel might as well have been adopted into Aggie Carter’s family as a niece by that point, and she couldn’t help but smile at the warmth it conjured in her chest.

“I… I never thought that far through,” she admitted, with her hand atop her bonnet as the wind gusted up from the sea below, soaring delightedly over the edge of the cliff and racing on inland as if to continue the momentum of the great rolling breakers that foamed and thundered against the shore. The coachman glanced at his pocket watch and groused something about a schedule that was almost immediately lost to the next inward gust.

“No, no, dearie,” the old woman scoffed. “No, you must come into the village. It’s far too far to go all by yourself, and with that case as well. Here, let me —”

“I can manage the case, I assure you,” Nel said with a gentle smile as Aggie half-toppled, half-leaned out of the coach to pick up the case. “How far is it to the house?”

“Two miles up that hill yonder,” Agatha said, pointing with one gnarled and arthritic finger towards the house on the rise to the north. “Come to the Lantern, and we’ll have one of the lads take you up once you’ve caught your breath.” The Lantern, as Nel now knew thanks to Aggie’s detailed prattling, was the inn at the centre of the village, right on the water near the harbour.

She had been about to protest, but with a sigh, she simply nodded. The constant journeying and jolting had worn her down more than she cared to admit, and while she wasn’t the kind of wallflower she’d met any number of times in London during the Season, a life led mostly indoors with few opportunities for physical activity had not prepared her for a two mile walk in heavy, too-fine clothes, carrying an unwieldy case in gusty conditions. Her family had been invited a number of times to Goodwood House to walk the large park there, and she had frequently ridden a rather spirited mare through the parkland of Lavington Hall with her dear friend William, so she was not entirely unused to the great outdoors, but she did have to admit that her experiences had been rather more curated and sanitised than the wild expanse of heathland visible on all sides of the stagecoach from Whitcross.

“You’re kind, Agatha,” she said, and let the woman heft her case into the otherwise empty coach.

The thing about a tiny village was that an outsider stood out a mile, and a young lady in her mid twenties and dressed in impractical, rich green clothes, stood out like a beacon in a dark night. Everyone turned to watch her as she disembarked from the coach. At home, she had barely garnered a look from anyone. Being the centre of everyone’s curiosity there was novel and, in a word, horrifying.

She almost blurted aloud that one would think she was a revenue man come inspecting for smuggled goods, but she bit it back just in time. Cornwall’s so-called ‘free trade’ and smuggling rackets were absolutely none of her concern as an outsider, infamous though they may be, and it would do her no good to start sticking her nose where it did not belong.

The Lantern was a half-timbered, two-storey building that faced the walled harbour. Its painted sign was peeling and sun-bleached, and it squawked something dreadful as it swung back and forth in the squalling wind. Mullioned windows glinted and shimmered, though the small, diamond panes were caked with a haze of salt spray, and alongside the inn, a hand-cart rumbled down from a narrow side alley towards the harbour beyond, where fishing boats bobbed on their mooring lines at the lapping high tide.

Agatha pushed open the black-painted door but came to an abrupt halt as someone appeared to be leaving the inn at the exact same moment, and nearly barrelled into her and Nel.

“Oh, excuse me,” came a young man’s hoarse tenor, and he stepped aside within the inn’s small porch to allow the two women to enter before he left.

Nel noted briefly that he wore well-made but plain clothes, and carried a hefty looking cane in his left hand, upon which he leaned while he waited for them to pass. He was pale and thin, his undyed linen shirt hanging loosely off his shoulders, and his light brown hair was tied back at the nape of his neck into a horsetail. The moment he met her eye, he inhaled in surprise and almost immediately looked away, his large, dark brown eyes turning shy and uncertain. “M’lady,” he mumbled without looking up.

She didn’t have time to correct him and tell him she had no such title, because the moment she had stepped inside, he was off out into the day beyond, limping markedly on his right leg as he went.

Nel turned back to find Agatha waiting for her, watching. “That there was young Edmund Nancarrow,” she supplied as Nel caught up with her. “Local lad. Lots of Nancarrows in this area,” she chuckled. “Can’t move for tripping over a Nancarrow. He was a shy, skittish thing even before he went off to war in the Colonies and came back with a bad leg,” she added. “But he’s a sweetheart if ever I saw one. Tailor’s ’prentice he is now.”

At that, Nel just nodded. Something in her ached when she realised she probably wouldn’t have much to do with the folk from the village once she was ensconced up at Heath Top House, and she half wised she could. They already sounded far more interesting than the Lady Winnifred Penrose, with whom Nel had only exchanged a short flurry of letters before becoming formally engaged as her ‘companion’. 

Still, an unmarried woman of Nel’s age and social standing was considered almost past her prime, and given that the few marriage proposals she had received had faded into the mists of her very early adulthood, she had had to find another respectable way to support herself. Hence, Heath Top House.

Aggie bustled her into the main room of the pub, and their arrival caused a flurry of activity that drew the eyes of a good few patrons. 

Seated at the wooden bar inside, hunched over a pewter tankard, sat a tall, bulky man in his late-thirties or early forties, with long, thick, dark grey hair shot through with a shimmer of silver white. He had it tied back off his face in a low ponytail at the nape of his neck and as he turned to regard Nel’s arrival, she met unusually deep green eyes surrounded by a web of crows’ feet lines in a tanned, weathered face. His scowl was dark and full of suspicion, but even the storm clouds in his expression couldn’t mask the fact that he was handsome, in a rugged, rough-hewn kind of way.

When she saw where Nel’s attention had snagged, Aggie let out a little gasp and snatched her by the upper arm to steer her towards an empty table in a bay window, about as far from the wooden bar where the man still sat and glared at them as it was possible to be. 

“And that’s Locryn Trevethan,” Aggie hissed as she saw Nel settled into a seat. “Can’t say as I’ve seen him in here more than a handful of times this year though. He’s usually out on the water. Lives alone in an old stone cottage round the bay from here, up at Pilchard Sands. You’d probably best be giving him a wide berth, miss. Not that he should give you any trouble, mind,” she amended carefully, “But he’s not for the likes of you to go mingling with.”

Nel smiled at the protective tone in the older woman’s voice, and nodded once.

With her warning given, Aggie raised her voice and called over to the old man behind the bar. “’ere, Tom! This young lady needs a ride up to Heath Top. You think you can arrange that for her?”

The stoop-shouldered, white-haired man nodded and knuckled his forehead at Nel across the space. “Not the finest, but we got a cart.”

“If you have a horse, I could ride,” she said, trying to be helpful.

“Ain’t got a saddle for a lady,” he said regretfully.

Memories of galloping through the leafy trees of Lavington Hall’s parkland with William flashed across her mind and she suppressed a smile. She certainly hadn’t ridden the grey mare side-saddle while keeping up with her childhood friend, and although it had been a year or so since she’d sat astride a horse instead of side-saddle, she thought she could manage well enough. “I know how to ride a man’s saddle,” she said, “But I do have a travel case I’d need to send someone back for.”

“I could get one of the lads to bring that up for you after,” said Tom, “But it’s almost as much effort to hitch up a cart as it is to tack up a horse for riding, ma’am.”

“Whatever is the least trouble for you will do fine,” she said, and the stoic, weather-beaten old man’s red cheeks darkened and he ducked his head.

While Tom left to sort out transportation to the house, Aggie flapped about getting some refreshments for Nel, leaving her to wait at the table alone.

In the wake of the hubbub and pother Agatha left behind her, Nel took a long, deep breath looked around to find Locryn Trevethan still staring across the room at her. Taken aback by his directness and the intensity of his glare, she tried to smile, but his expression remained thunderous beneath strong, dark brows, and she quickly looked away, embarrassed.

In a face turned to leather by the sun and sea-wind, wide cheekbones and a heavy brow framed his piercingly green eyes. Never mind that marked crow’s feet around his eyes that made him look like he would rather have been laughing; the contrast between the dark, hostile glower and the soft laughter lines unnerved her and made her feel off-balance, as though her stranger’s presence in their local pub had unknowingly raised the ire of a usually gentle man. 

He had a short, neatly-trimmed, salt-and-pepper beard around full lips that were currently turned down at the corners and which bore a silver-pink scar across the middle. Despite the warm day, he wore a fisherman’s dense, woollen sweater, and when she risked another look back at him, she found him still frowning openly across the bar at her.

Nel didn’t relax until Aggie returned, at which point the man snapped abruptly out of his trance, slammed a coin down on the bar, and strode from the pub on long legs that were thick as tree trucks at the thigh. The door bounced back off the plasterwork in his wake and his boots rang on the flagstones outside.

“Not one to welcome strangers, I take it,” Nel muttered, and downed half of the cheap, watered-down wine that Agatha had set on the table for her.

“Oh don’t you pay him no mind, miss,” Aggie scoffed, settling herself down into the seat opposite her like a brooding hen and glaring at the pub door. “He don’t seem to like no one in Polgarrack save for sweet Ned Nancarrow, strangely enough. Then again, I ain’t met no one who’s taken a disliking to sweet Ned. Now, Tom will have the horse and cart ready for you in just a moment, but you just take your time and recover after your journey.”

Nel, who had felt ten times better the moment she’d taken her first proper lungful of sea air on stepping out of the swaying stagecoach, looked across the table into the older woman’s face and found a mother’s kindness and compassion in her wrinkled face, and something twisted in her gut. “You’re very kind,” she whispered, unable to muster anything more. “Thank you.”

She chuckled. “You know, and don’t you take this amiss, but you remind me of my niece a little, though she’s a little younger than you.”

Nel’s eyebrows twitched in wry amusement, and Agatha blushed at the impropriety of her words. Nel didn’t get the chance to reassure her because Tom shuffled back in and told her the cart was ready for her.

She laid a coin on the table for the wine and stood, following the innkeep out into the yard and clambering up with her case into the back of the cart. It was hardly a very dignified mode of transport for someone of her station, and when Tom said as much while they rumbled out of the inn’s yard, Nel just laughed and said she didn’t mind.

“Anything is better than that awful rolling stagecoach,” she beamed, and swung her legs back and forth like a child off the back of the cart bed while Tom clucked his tongue at the horse to hurry up.

As they trundled up the narrow, cobbled street from the harbour, they passed Edmund Nancarrow standing outside a tailor’s shop, talking with the beast of a man from the bar. Both men looked up and watched her pass like she was some kind of rare spectacle.

In a way, she supposed she was. 

Still, she smiled at them despite her nerves, and Edmund knuckled a non-existent cap at her with a shy smile, while Locryn just glared.

She sighed and wondered what this next chapter in her life would bring.

___

Next chapter ->

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I hope you’ll consider reblogging as well as leaving a like if you enjoyed it. Take care, and I hope you have a lovely day/night wherever you are, and whenever you read this.

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#selkie #bucca #polyamory #polyamorous romance #poly story #o #historical fantasy #shifter romance #poly shifter romance #18th century romance #shapeshifter romance #m/m/f

[eddiemunsons80sbaby]

You've Got Another Thing Coming

Pairing: ModernDayRockstarEddieMunsonxReader

Request: This is for one of my very favorite people and a supporter of mine from damn near day one when I first posted a book on Wattpad @mmunson86 I hope I did your request justice BB! I had a lot of fun with this one.

Alright not me jumping into this right away with a request buut whenever you can can you do a one shot of Eddie Munson x reader but modern day?

Eddie is a rockstar & reader is his wife/the bands personal hair stylist

Okay soooo here we go he is in a meeting for an upcoming tour, and she is back in the hotel lounging around , he has not seen her most of the day so he starts to text sexting her , sooo she takes it a step further and sends him a very suggestive picture, when i tell you this man is ready to bolt out the door!🤣

He tells her that he is going to destroy her & she keeps testing him till he gets back to their hotel room and does exactly that this man destroys her shoot even calls her names is rough ( obvi its consensual & that's what she wanted from him) after they are done maybe some fluff🥹🤍

18+ ONLY

Eddie rolled his neck, drumming his fingers on the top of the long table, trying not to tune out as everyone around him talked lighting, stage set-up, whether there should be a fog machine or not. They were starting a new tour in four months and he’d been told he had to attend this meeting but he never understood what he was here for. He played music. He didn’t care if the lights were LEDs or if they tried some new spotlight during his guitar solo. 

Slyly, he pulled his phone from his pocket. He hadn’t seen you all day and he could just picture you in his mind right now, spread out in that King sized hotel bed in those tiny shorts and that soft cami that concealed nothing, perfect little nipples pressing against the silky material as you relaxed, probably watching some serial killer documentary that you found. Damn, he’d be much more useful in that bed with you than sitting in this conference room. 

Getting an idea, he opened the text thread with you, tongue darting along the side of his mouth as he typed.

Hey princess, relaxing and enjoying the quiet?

No. I’m reading and I want you in this bed next to me.

Oh yeah? Reading some of your smutty shit again? 

Yeah, and now I’m all turned on and there’s no one here to take care of it but me.

Eddie grinned, nibbling his bottom lip. Fuck, how long was this meeting going to take? He raised his head every now and again, nodding and smiling, trying to appear like he was invested in whatever the hell they were talking about now but he was far more invested in this text conversation. 

Aww, sweetheart. You need me to make you feel good? You want my fingers deep inside that pretty little pussy? 

Yeah. I need you, baby. My fingers just aren’t the same, Eddie. I try closing my eyes and imagining it’s you but it’s not enough. 

Eddie’s head jerked back as a photo came through. He growled low, deep in his throat. You were on your back on the bed, hair fanned around you on the pillow, those little shorts gone, your own fingers buried within you. He could see those perfect nipples through the silk of the tank but your eyes…Jesus Christ, you were giving him your best fuck me eyes and he was instantly hard as granite, shifting slightly in his chair, trying to allieve the pressure. His eyes darted to the door. Would anyone really care if he just left? They couldn’t stop him if he just ran. What the hell was he even here for?

Fuck princess, I am going to destroy that pussy when I get back.

Promise?

Another picture came through. Eddie’s lips pressed together, suppressing the groan that so badly wanted to come out of him. You were on all fours, your legs spread apart just enough to give him the perfect view of your pink pussy all ready for him. You looked over your shoulder at the camera, eyes inviting him. 

Are you sure you want to keep playing this game, sweetheart? This meeting is going to end sometime.

I’m dripping wet, baby. I need to come. If you don’t get here soon, I might have to finish without you.

In the third picture, you were on your back again, spread open, but with your vibrator in your hand, an amused smile on your lips.

Don’t you fucking dare. You put that away and lie there like a good girl until I get there and then I am going to make you come so hard, you’ll still be feeling the aftershocks for days.

Promises…promises…I just don’t know if I can wait…

“Alright, so I think we have this all settled. It all sounds great guys,” Eddie said, jumping up from his chair. “Really good meeting. Tour is going to be awesome. Thanks everyone.”

He practically sprinted from the conference room, through the lobby, and to the elevator. His cock was throbbing, eager to get up to the room so he could follow through. Eddie knew what you wanted when you got all bratty like this and he was more than happy to give it to you. The elevator took forever but finally the doors opened and he ran down the hallway. 

Using his keycard, he slammed the door open, hearing the buzz of your little toy. He walked around the corner to find you with that subpar mechanical replacement for him pressed against your clit. You moaned, eyes closed, and he stood watching, running his finger over his lower lip. The door closed audibly and your eyes popped open, catching sight of him. 

“I thought I told you to put that sorry excuse for pleasure away,” he said warningly. 

“You were taking too long,” you replied, spreading your legs further, giving him more of a show. “And I was so horny, baby.”

“That’s because you’re a needy little slut.” Eddie grabbed the vibrator, throwing it across the room. He grabbed her jaw tightly, tilting her head back. “I told you, I’m the only one who makes you come. Say it.”

“Not when you’re not here,” you said, testing him, challenging him, wanting to push him as far as you could. 

Eddie’s free hand cupped your pussy and you released a long, low moan, hips rolling toward him as your body tried to get what it really craved. A slap sounded as he smacked your pussy roughly, his other hand keeping it’s tight grip on your jaw.

“You want me to take care of you?” You nodded, your head barely moving in the grip he had on it. “Then be a good girl and say it,” he hissed, lips right next to your ear.

“You’re the only one who makes me come,” you whimpered.

“That’s what I thought,” Eddie stated, keeping your pussy cupped in his hand but applying no pressure anywhere you needed it. “I was in a very important meeting and you sent me those dirty photos? Those perfect little nipples all hard, pointing at me, just begging for my teeth.”

His hands came to the straps of your cami, appearing to pull them gently down your arms, but then he gave a forceful tug, ripping the entire top in half and the fabric fell away. His thumbs came to each achingly hard bud, running gently over them back and forth before pinching them both harshly and twisting until you squeaked. 

“That’s right. Naughty little whores have to take their punishment before they get what they want. Now, you’ve left me with a painfully hard cock, princess. You’re going to need to fix that.”

You moved to sit up but he shook his head. Eddie made quick work of his belt, pants, and shirt before moving to the bed. He spun his finger and pointed and you knew what he wanted. Maneuvering yourself, you laid across the bed, your head hanging off the edge. His throbbing length hung over your face, wet with pre-cum that you could see gathered along the slit. Your head bobbed up, gathering the sticky substance on your tongue and he hissed in appreciation before roughly grabbing your jaw again. 

“That’s a start. Now, open that pretty mouth for me so I can give it a proper fucking.”

You obeyed, opening your mouth and he thrust, sending his cock straight to the back of your throat, gagging you. But this wasn’t gentle Eddie, the boyfriend who was concerned, the one who would ask sweetly if you were okay. This was feral Eddie, the Eddie who took what he wanted from you and your center was aching for all that was to come because this had been your intention from the moment you sent that first photo. He fucked your mouth, watching the tears stream down your face, his hands roughly grabbing your breasts, twisting and pinching your nipples until you were a whimpering mess. 

“That’s my good little whore. Take it all, baby. Can’t be so bratty when your mouth is stuffed with my cock, can you?”

Eddie slapped your tits, causing you to jump and squeal as he hit the back of your throat again and again. His dirty talk ceased, replaced with grunts and groans and you knew he was close. He always lost the ability to form coherent thoughts when his orgasm was upon him. He thrust once more and your mouth filled with his release. You closed your lips around his cock until he was through, swallowing every last drop. 

“Oh, that’s a good girl,” he gasped, dark locks plastered to the sides of his face and forehead. “Good girls get rewarded.”

Then he was spinning your body, lifting your legs up, draping them over his shoulders, the crooks of your knees balanced on him, your pussy in front of his mouth. You gasped as he dove in like a man starved, his tongue pressing into your entrance, his nose moving over your clit as he shook his head back and forth. 

“Fuck!” you cried, gripping the sheets tightly in your fingers.

Eddie’s hands gripped your ass, pressing into the supple flesh, and you were helpless beneath them, this position allowing you no purchase to do a damn thing but go along for the ride. His mouth traveled away from your center, teeth biting into the tender skin of your inner thighs, marking you. You gasped, digging your heels into his back, back arched in pleasure, body quaking with need. 

“You’re so pretty when you’re so needy,” he growled, grinning down at you before he took your clit between his lips, turning his head from side to side, taking it with him, pulling at it painfully but fuck, it was so damn good. “See? This is what good girls get. Don’t you want to be a good girl?”

You nodded helplessly, a chorus of mumbling moans falling from your lips as his tongue began flicking over your clit, up and down, side to side, bringing you closer and closer to the orgasm you’d been craving since you’d sent him that photo. 

“Oh, my princess is close. I can feel it,” Eddie crooned, his tongue running from your clit to your entrance and back again. “Come for me, baby. Let me taste you.”

“Fuck!” you screamed, your body shaking, Eddie gripping your hips so you didn’t collapse with the force of your release. 

You gasped for air, but didn’t have time to process anything before he was maneuvering you again, twisting your body and propping you up on all fours. You moaned, prepared for his cock, shocked when you felt two fingers press into you, curling, exploring. He hit that perfect spot and you cried out. 

“Oh yeah, there it is,” Eddie breathed, his other hand coming around to find your breast, this time massaging it gently, his fingers rolling your sore nipple tenderly, always knowing exactly what you needed. “I’m not done with you yet. I promised you aftershocks, baby.”

“Shit…” you whimpered, rocking your hips back against him, grinding yourself against his hand as he continually hit that sweet, spongy place that had you seeing goddamn stars. 

“What were you thinking using a vibrator?” he asked, his hand gripping your hair, pulling your head back. “You’re going to throw that pointless fucking toy away, aren’t you?”

“Yes…yes…” you gasped, your body already racing toward your second orgasm of the night.

“That’s right. You don’t need it, princess. That’s what I’m here for.”

“Yes…I…oh…fuck…fuck…fuck!” you screamed as you rode out the next high. Your body was covered in sweat, every muscle trembling, feeling like it was ready to give out. You collapsed forward on the bed but Eddie’s hand came under your stomach, propping you back up. 

“Oh no. You started this, you dirty little whore and you’re going to finish it with me like the good girl I know you can be,” he growled, those ring clad hands wrapping over your hips. “I’m not done with you yet, princess.”

A cry of pleasure ripped from your lungs as his cock thrust into you from behind. Eddie drove into you relentlessly, fast and hard, your skin audibly smacking against one another. He groaned above you as you dropped to your forearms, your face pressed into the mattress. 

“Fuck, yes, take every single inch of me,” he commanded, his hand snaking around your hips and between your legs, coming once again to your dripping center. “Come on, pretty girl, I know you have one more in you. You’ve come on my tongue and my fingers and now I want to feel you come all over my cock.”

“Eddie, fuck baby, that feels so good…oh shit…I’m so close…”

“I know you are. I can feel it, pretty girl, the way your pussy just swallows me up, fits me like a fucking glove. Shit, I crave this goddamn pussy like I crave a nicotine fix,” he growled, fingers moving over your clit, determined to get you there before him.

He pressed down on your back with his free hand, causing your legs to spread just a bit wider. The position had his cock pressing against that spot again. He was like a fucking sorcerer, the way he always managed to find it. His fingers continued working your center, moving over your clit, so sensitive now it was almost painful. 

“Fuck yes baby!” he groaned loudly as you screeched, fingers clawing at the sheets as you came for the third time. As your walls pulsed around him, pulling him tighter, he quickly followed, hands gripping your hips again for purchase as he thrust through his release. 

You felt as his cock slipped out of you, your body collapsing to the bed, spent but so damn satisfied your skin felt like it was humming. You jumped when you felt something between your legs again but it was just a warm, damp towel. Eddie gently turned you over, cleaning you up, his lips pressing soft kisses over your belly, your hips, your thighs as he did so. 

You lay, eyes closed, exhausted, feeling as if you couldn't move, didn’t want to move. But then his arms were gathering you up, carrying you. Opening your eyes, you saw he had started a bath in the massive jacuzzi tub. He set you down inside, stepping in behind you and pulling your back up against his chest. Fingertips trailed lightly up and down your arms, his lips pressing against your hair, cheek, jaw, just under your ear. 

“Such a good girl…” he praised softly. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

“No,” you breathed, melting against him, completely relaxed between the feel of his body and the warm water. “That was so fucking incredible.”

“Mmm…I agree.” His arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly. “I fucking love you, you know that?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty fond of you too,” you teased and he splashed you gently with water before burying his face in your neck, peppering it with kisses. 

#eddie munson #eddie the banished #stranger things eddie #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x femreader #eddie munson x you #modern day au #rockstar eddie munson x you #eddie munson rockstar au #eddie munson rockstar #rockstar eddie munson #modern eddie munson #smut requests #request

[accidental-king]

BURYING THE NOT QUITE DEAD: A DISCO ELYSIUM FANFIC

My take on the events after the game featuring a multi-fic HarryKim slowburn. I'm also just a sucker for case fics. This is just a snippet from Chapter 1 but I actually have several chapters written. I'll be posting them on AO3 eventually but I'd like to run it by some beta readers first. Feel free to DM me if you're interested!

SHIVERS - As the sun begins to lower over Jamrock, the dome of an old silk mill shines like brass in the golden light. It's not difficult to see a time in which masses of workers filed in and out of its entrances, and the motor lorries lined up along its western wing to collect their wares. Miles upon miles of lustrous textiles to be shipped across oceans and isolas to glide across the skin and furnishings of those few who can afford it. The Revacholiere will never be one of those people. 

The long and blocky building projects off of either side of the dome like a russet brick ladybird, splitting its chitinous hide and stretching its wings between half-demolished tenements and modern high rises alike. Its masonry tells tales of a time before the deathblow. A time when even the utilitarian still showed a thread of residual vanity in the form of granite steps, sharp stone arches, and molded concrete cornerstones. Original varve clay brick, brown like dried autumn leaves, sit in contrast to newer, coppery replacements, highlighting the scars of war and neglect in cracks, blotches and even an entire end of one wing. Always visible like a reality you can't unsee. 

ESPRIT DE CORPS - It has been a Police Precinct longer now than it was ever a Silk Mill but its old purpose still lingers in the bones of its columns, trusses, and long abandoned smoke stacks.

INLAND EMPIRE - It’s all that you have left.

What’s to the North?

What’s to the South?

What’s to the East?

What’s to the West?

What’s inside this building?

Shudder and blink

YOU - What’s to the North?

SHIVERS - A peninsula. A district left abandoned by its surrounding infrastructure. Bombed out ruins and mountains of shipping crates slowly turning red. The harbor has been locked up tight since shots rang out in the square. Blood and heavy fuel oil paint an old mosaic red and hang in the air like a fog that dares to challenge the sunlight. Motor lorries still sit abandoned in the circle, where you left them. A bookstore is no better now than your last visit, and a hostel is now empty of guests minus a few lucky souls who now grieve their lost brothers in the Union booth.

INLAND EMPIRE - It was your home for the past week.

CONCEPTUALIZATION - It is your birthplace. Born of a drug and drink deluge, on a floor covered in a lifetime of mistakes. 

YOU - And beyond that?

SHIVERS - An islet of crumbling concrete and steel. The wind whistles through water reeds and swathes of tiny white petals that push through the last spring snow. Ashes of a fire long gone out blow out into the sea to be swallowed like the memories of the cause that built it. Its only resident is gone now, taken away for medical treatment and for a prison sentence that will see him to his final days.

What’s to the North?

What’s to the South?

What’s to the East?

What’s to the West?

What’s inside this building?

Shudder and blink

YOU - What’s to the south?

SHIVERS - An apartment building. Mostly stone, though partially the ivy and wisteria that have done their part to claim it in an attempt to reach the heavens. They are a part of one another now; inseparable without either coming to ruin. Inside, a marriage has been strengthened thanks to an unusual discovery made by an unusual officer of the RCM. Husband and wife embrace as they look over the colorful image between them.

YOU - And beyond that?

SHIVERS - A wind whips down the long stretch of Boogie Street that barely contains the buildings and crowds on either side. Neon signs illuminate dark windows that are rattled by the music within. Lively chatter fills the air both inside and out. A young woman walks out with her lover in hand. She presses close to his side to fight against the chill of the spring air as her dark brunette curls whip about her face. The man flashes a charismatic smile and he pulls her in closer to lead her away to a shiny white lacquer motor carriage parked just off the main street. They each know something the other does not.

What’s to the North?

What’s to the south?

What’s to the East?

What’s to the West?

What’s inside this building?

Shudder and blink

YOU - What’s to the east?

SHIVERS - Seemingly endless blocks of brutalist apartment buildings that tower over the residences that survived the revolution 43 years ago. The whole district lies in a millennium old riverbed, leaving it forever in shadow of Jamrock to its west, the GRIH to its north, Grand Couron to its east. Grand Couron and the Old South district maintain their borders with two of La Delta’s canals. 

INLAND EMPIRE - A mark of constant probability. Everyone of Revachol West is just one bad couple of weeks away from moving to the Eminent Domain or the Burnt Out Quarter.

SHIVERS - Across the water, a woman in a satin robe sits with her elderly dog, surrounded by shining white marble as she peers out her 11th story window. The glass leaves the evening in an emerald tint. She would have the Eminent Domain wiped from the face of the Earth if it meant sparing her view. The canal and a financial cushion are all that separates her from the proles.

And beyond that?

SHIVERS - La rivière Espérance and Revachol East

What’s to the North?

What’s to the South?

What’s to the East?

What’s to the West?

What’s inside this building?

Shudder and blink

YOU - What’s to the West?

SHIVERS - A home you will never see again. Trees and underbrush devoured the old hospital and surrounding buildings of the Pox long before you even had a chance to remember it. Stray vagrants find their way through the bombed out ruins, shuffling past abandoned wire bed frames and rusted carts of broken tare. There is nothing left to be found here but a little bit of shelter from the wind. But the Valley of Dogs lurks nearby and most know never to stay unless they’re entirely out of options. This place will likely never be safe again.

What’s to the North?

What’s to the South?

What’s to the East?

What’s to the West?

What’s in this building?

Shudder and blink

YOU - What’s in this building?

SHIVERS - As day begins to fade and the lights begin to slowly begin to blink on across the city, multi-story factory windows will slowly transition from the concealing darkness to exposing illumination of what is no longer the East Insulindic Textiles Company. The loading docs have now become the motor pool for the 41st Precinct of the Revachol Citizens Militia. An old Coupris 40 whirs past a vehicle of a similar model and one of a decidedly newer model as it turns into the garage for the evening. Both MCs it passed do not belong to the 41st.

Inside the building proper, a stern looking man in a well tailored uniform walks toward the elevator at a brisk pace. His left breast is heavily decorated in medals and ribbons. One from the Suzerain, three from the Commune, most from the Moralist International. He bears the weight of the whole city on his shoulders but he carries it with an air of pride and authority. He’s heard tell of some strange happenings and without seeing it for himself, he’s not sure he believes it. 

Across the precinct, in the East wing, tucked into the far end of the first floor an eclectic group of men sit inside a dimly lit Lazareth. Three surround one in a way not too dissimilar from how the interviewee had been earlier in the day.

What’s to the North?

What’s to the South?

What’s to the East?

What’s to the West?

What’s in this building?

Shudder and blink

YOU - A violent shudder passes down your spine and you find yourself suddenly aware that you have been staring off into the ether for about 3 minutes. You are one with your body once more.

PRECINCT 41 - The Lazareth Office of Dr. Nix Gottlieb is small despite the size of the precinct that it maintains. Cabinets and shelves line just about every surface in some manner or capacity. And each and every surface was crammed packed with medical supplies, specimens, and piles upon piles of folders and textbooks. There isn’t much space to move, let alone work. The center of the room is dominated by a surgical table that is currently sporting a flimsy pad that serves as a cushion for your injured ass.

INLAND EMPIRE - This is the closest thing to private healthcare you’ve seen in years.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - Your bullet riddled leg has already been looked over. You’d managed to pull your stitches and partially reopen the injury during your little jaunt about Martinaise and the islet.

PAIN THRESHOLD - You wish you’d been unconscious like the first time you got sewn up. Gottlieb is quick and efficient but he’s merciless in the empathy department. In other words, you cried. And your leg still hurts like a bitch.

EMPATHY - Kim radiated pride and relief behind his subdued expression when the doctor had complimented his work.

ESPRIT DE CORPS - [legendary: failure] He’s just glad it wasn’t worse.

NIX GOTTLIEB - The doctor is a bespeckled elderly man, dressed in civilian clothes, a dark, woven turtle neck covered by a brown blazer that stopped fitting him in the shoulders about 10 years ago. His forehead and brow are permanently creased by stress and a deep look of concentration. His brow deepens when you shake yourself out of the thought. “Welcome back, Detective.”

RHETORIC - That was sarcasm. He doesn’t care.

PERCEPTION [smell] - On his breath, mingled with the scent of Tioumoutiri cigarettes, you catch a whiff of peppermint schnapps.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - If we play our cards right, maybe he’ll share a belt.

VOLITION - We’ve been clean this week. Don’t fuck this up now.

NIX GOTTLIEB - He scratches at his wispy white hair and beard as he speaks over his shoulder at two other men. “And how long would you say these episodes tend to last?”

KIM KITSURAGI - Your partner of the last seven days looks between you and the blue notebook in his hands, occasionally flipping through its pages. He still stands in his field attire; Orange nylon bomber jacket zipped up to his collar, white crew shirt hidden beneath it, brown aviation mechanic pants tucked neatly into his black boots, and his brown leather driving gloves. 

KIM KITSURAGI - He thumbs over a couple of pages before answering, “Anywhere between a few seconds to several minutes. This… is one of his longer episodes.”

CONCEPTUALIZATION - Wait! Has he been taking notes on you?

LOGIC - [medium: Failure] Of course not. We’ve already established that this is his method of working through his thoughts. This is likely a method of recall for him.

TRANT HEIDELSTAM - A lean blonde man in a tailored suit looks over you from where he stands, with fascination glittering in his hazel eyes. You saw a similar light when you spoke with him in front of the defunct Feld R&D when he spoke of their pre-revolution efforts. He was also one of the only ones in the fishing village who stood up for you against your partners onslaught of insults.

ESPRIT DE CORPS - This man is a special consultant taken onto the Major Crimes Unit in C-Wing. His well-traveled knowledge and personable demeanor has lent itself invaluably to the task force.

AUTHORITY - /Your/ task force.

INLAND EMPIRE - Not anymore. You’ll be lucky if they’ll even let you back into the field as a patrol officer, given the circumstances.

TRANT HEIDELSTAM - “And what do you experience during these… lapses, Harry?”

HALF LIGHT - Don’t. This is a trap.

[RHETORIC - challenging] Explain the skill set

+1 Kim is here -1 Butcher doctor -1 This sounds insane

[VOLITION: legendary] “The city speaks to me sometimes.”

+1 Revelation in the church +1 She loves you -1 This sounds insane

[DRAMA - godly] Convince them your thoughts are normal (lie)

-1 Kim is here -1 Butcher doctor -1 You’re already insane

“A real shit show of internal monologue that drowns out the world around me.” [continue]

Really? Anything else?

YOU - Really? Anything else?

CONCEPTUALIZATION - Nope.

[RHETORIC - challenging] Explain the skill set

RHETORIC [challenging - Failure] What spills forth is a vomited spew of half finished sentences, aborted gestures, and some words you’re pretty sure you’re misusing. You throw in some apologies and self-depreciation for good measure like a dog half-heartedly trying to bury its own shit.

NIX GOTTLIEB - “Try again. But in Vacholian this time.” His arms cross and his fingers drum impatiently on his bicep.

[RHETORIC - challenging] Explain the skill set

[VOLITION - legendary] “The city speaks to me sometimes.”

+1 Revelation in the church +1 She loves you -3 This sounds insane

[DRAMA - godly] Convince them your thoughts are normal (lie)

-1 Kim is here -1 Butcher doctor -3 You’re already insane

“A real shit show of internal monologue that drowns out the world around me.” [continue]

Really? Anything else?

YOU - “Just a real shit show of an internal monologue that drowns out the world around me.”

KIM KITSURAGI - “It’s inconvenient at times, but he often comes through with concepts and ideas I never would have considered. Unorthodox as it may be, it was invaluable to the investigation.”

DRAMA - [Medium: Success] He means it, sire.

EMPATHY - He’s concerned about your well being, but he also doesn’t want to see you misrepresented in the eyes of these men.

+1 Morale

#disco elysium #fanfic #my art #my writing #harry du bois #do not repost #post martinaise #slow burn #kim kitsuragi #harry x kim #harrykim

[anlian-aishang]

Everyone deserves to be mailed lingerie then stripped free from it, and by everyone, Erwin means his wife specifically.

// tags: erwin smith x reader, smut, allusions to masturbation, reader is briefly lifted, modern AU, fem!reader // word count: 1300

Without him here, there was no need to bite back your smile. A pure, shameless grin - a laugh even - as you took in what was before your eyes: pristine white box, black ribbons bowed over the corners, and silver cursive you were too hasty to read. 

Chills seized your fingers as they worked on untying and unwrapping. Lid fell to the floor, beneath: transparent wrapping paper, folded perfectly. Tiny card rested square atop it:

For you. Hope to see it soon. From Sydney, E.S.

You rolled your eyes even as your face started to burn. Fumbling now, you dug through the box, tissue paper crinkling. You wondered if there was a more delicate texture in the world. There was, and it was the gift within. Panties so soft, next to nothingness. So thin, he would tear right through them. At the thought, a wave of heat, a heat that somehow made you shiver.

Instinctively, you shouldered off your robe. Straight there in your foyer, a naughty silhouette projected onto your curtains, stepping out of silk dress and into white lace. 

From all those miles away, Erwin had picked a perfect fit. That vision, you supposed, had landed him this executive position - the one that bought you this house, the one that pulled him away from it - business trip after business trip. 

You bunched the stretch of fabric in your hands and startled, already damp. “Damn it,” you cursed to yourself, ten days too many. 

Matters into your own hands. It was what he would want.

// // // 

Clean sheets. Mirror on the ceiling. A few favorites lined up. Nothing on but your new gift. Everything was right.

But about that. Narrowing your gaze, the mirror’s reflection above you gave a disapproving shake of her head. You had undressed yourself with self-loving intentions plenty of times, but something about this outfit, it demanded a partner. One did not light their own birthday candles, did not massage their own back. This underwear carried similar sentiment. 

Blue lilies he would deflower, dainty lace his large hands would trace. Yes, it was perfect on you. But it would be even more perfect to have him take it off of you. 

Your filming session had stopped before it started, but you supposed some stills would do. 3 PM. His work phone.

Yeah, that’ll do. The couple shared a near simultaneous thought as you sent the photos and he received them. 

Got your present. Have a sneak peek. I’ll express my thanks when you get home.

Index and thumb pressed to his temples. Home never felt so far away.

More to that gift, but won’t get there until flight 613’s arrival.

Over halfway through this trip, back sooner than you think. 

Had you the presence of mind, you would have noticed that 613 did not match the ticket stub on the fridge. Erwin figured that the package had made for a good-enough distraction. Indeed, though you daydreamed of his return for hours, you jumped at the sound of his key sheathed into the lock.

“What the-!?”

A satisfied smirk on the man otherwise proper. Immaculate smile, except for the lip bite. Proud posture, heart racing beneath. Pants ironed, ignoring the bulge at his middle - an impossible task. To everyone else, Erwin was objective perfection. You were the only one close enough to see his flaws, to find the beauty in them, to love him even more because of them. 

“Happy to see you, too,” he teased. 

“Yeah?” Sauntering closer, pupils dilated, a predator longing to be prey. Lotioned hand explored his slacks until landing a habitual hold of a familiar length, “I can tell.”

His briefcase hit the floor with a thud, but you did not startle, not even when calloused hands cupped the backs of your thighs and hoisted you to the countertop. Cold granite met your lower half - its ice shooting through your veins. A brief whimper as your nipples rapidly hardened, Erwin was quick to take them - warm them - in his mouth.

Shaky sighs as you labored to reach your arms over his shoulders, to knot your fingers at his undercut. The sudden onset of stimulation brought a singsong to your voice, one that turned his belts and briefs unbearably tight. “So eager,” you cooed. “Seems to me like you just wanted an excuse to come home.”

You knew: he was too smart to be this naive, to mail you lingerie without expecting you to put it on, take a picture, and text it to his work phone immediately.

“That,” Erwin offered, “or you just wanted an excuse to bring me home.”

He knew: you were too devious to play so innocent, to send him that photo without expecting him to cancel his meetings, book a flight, and get home just as immediately - faster than you could say, back so soon?

“But…” you rolled your head back, relishing. As you propped yourself further up the counter, you feigned consideration, “you worked so hard for-”

“-for times like these.” Erwin growled. Sturdy hands strove for delicacy, running fingers in your hair as he insisted, “If I can’t please my wife, I might as well quit.”

Your only response was a stammer. The husk in his voice made intoxicating contrast with the slick of his responses. Uttering filth like it was nothing, your eyes rolled back, is this a dream?

No, not even your unconscious could come up with this, how his knuckles hooked exactly where your hips became curves, sliding down symmetrically and simultaneously with sadistic slow. The singe of his exhales on your torso, drawing shudders he subdued as he held you in his arms. The marks he decorated your neck with, saliva and swears stuck to your skin. Erwin had given you many memorable experiences, but this was some other, “E’Erwin…”

“You have no idea,” he hissed, “how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

Your eyes widened, lips parted at the idea - the realization - of how he had spent his lone hotel nights: dreaming of this very scene, his return, and how you would look in these panties. 

“Even better than I imagined,” sighs landed upon your ear. Two fingers to your middle, finding your folds despite the fabric. With each back and forth, your arousal continued to spill, soaking his touch. “So adorable…” between licks of his digits clean, his groan flirted with a whine, “irresistible.”

Ventures away always seemed to fog his memory. His tongue rejoiced when reunited with yours, though the taste was far from foreign. The milk to his coffee, the sugar to his tea, the sweetener to the hardships of life. He forgot all else in the presence of you.  

Words threaded with kisses, “How do you do it, hm?” Lovemark on your jawline, “Tell me your secrets.”

Nails dug into his nape, “You know them already.” 

Yes, he knew, but he still had to find out - find out what was inside those flowery panties, explore how exactly the garment matched with your crevices, discover the scent of French lace and you. Selfish was his stare as he tugged down and down, licking his lips as he watched the clear string fall from your cunt, along your thighs, all the way to your ankles where he let them hang. 

My god, Erwin swore, she waited for me. So wet, so sensitive, he could tell, that had to be the case. Insatiable, in this context or others, was his desire to have his theories confirmed.

“If I were a betting man, and I am-” Erwin asserted, “I’ll bet you’ve been waiting for this all week.”

You thrust your hands in his hair, nails curled, beckoning him forward, “I shouldn’t have to tell you,” you chastised with a selfish pull of his locks, “get down here and taste for yourself.”

// masterlist //

#erwin #erwin smith #erwin x reader #erwin smith x reader #smut #oneshot #salt and pepper #2023 #anlian writes #alias's #my writing

[littleredwing89]

PRINCE OF GOTHAM - PART 4

PRINCE OF GOTHAM - PART 4

CEO!Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings – Language. NSFW Smut. Degrading language. Slight semi-public smut.

A/N: Please remember this is a revised version of “The Intern” but swapped out Roman for Jason. Hope you all enjoy the next chapter! :) xoxo

——

You stepped out of the elevator once you reached the top of the building. This was Jason’s floor. You’d been up here a few times, never for business. You smirked and ran a hand through your hair, fluffing it slightly. Your Louboutin’s - a present from Jason - clicked against the granite flooring as you made your way to his office door.

You smiled at his personal secretary, Bernice, a stern looking lady in her mid forties. She held a lot of the strings together for Jason. A firm hand was what he needed.

“Mr Todd is waiting for you Ms L/N”.

You nodded before pushing open his door. He was laid back in his black leather office chair, phone to his ear. When he saw you walk in he leant forward quickly, “I’ll call you back Grayson, my appointment has just arrived”. He hung the phone up and turned towards you. A sly grin working its way onto his face.

You felt your hackles rising at being called his ‘appointment’. Closing the door behind you, you strode across his office flooring, standing in front of his desk expectantly.

“I was told you wanted to see me Sir?”.

Jason dropped a thick wad of paper on his desk, you noticed the writing across the top. It was a new contract. A new contract for the job you’d always wanted within the Iceberg Lounge. Your blood ran cold. Was that- was that what he thought this was? Sleeping your way to the top. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to calm yourself down. You didn’t want to make any assumptions.

“What is this?”, you asked politely, your fingers brushing over your name at the top of the paperwork.

“A promotion”, he answered, like it was the most simple thing in the world. He shoved the paperwork towards, a platinum pen on top, “You just need to sign on the dotted line”.

You couldn’t stop the burst of anger firing through you, “Did you think this is what it's all been about?”.

Jason frowned, sitting straighter in his chair, confusion rippling over his face, “What? No-”, he played with the knot on his tie subconsciously, “I’m simply rewarding your performance”.

Your eyebrows shot up, “My performance?”.

“I didn’t mean it like that”, he swallowed thickly, your darker attitude sparkling a desire in the pit of his stomach. He felt the front of his trousers become uncomfortable as he watched your face.

“Well then what did you mean?”, your arms folded across your chest pushing your breasts up against the silk of your blouse. Jason cursed under his breath and looked away for a second.

“Because it certainly appears that you’re giving me a promotion because we’re fucking”.

Jason continued to fix his tie, ignoring the swelling between his legs. He’d seen you angry before but this was different. It was aimed at him. And fuck if it didn’t turn him on. He took a deep breath and looked at you, “Your supervisor told me your team cornered us, another million dollar sponsorship and I know better than to attribute it to him”.

You glared at him, venom pouring from you. Watching him, you noticed just how fidgety he’d become. Your eyes flickered to the front of his trousers, catching the twitch of movement. Your lips curved for a second before you pushed the contract back towards him, sitting on the corner of his desk.

“And what makes you think I had any involvement with the deal?”.

Jason’s eyes cast over your stocking clad legs crossed as you perched on his desk, perfectly accentuated with the heels he’d bought you last week. He grunted and pushed back in his chair, he needed a little space from your heated figure before he combusted.

“I don't think anyone would have crushed it as thoroughly”, he stood suddenly, “Besides who else would castrate a man in front of his subordinates?”.

You tipped your head back, exposing the length of your throat to him, huffing out a deep sigh, “Why do I feel like you wouldn’t have given me this promotion if we hadn’t been sharing each other’s beds?”.

“You’ve earned this, it has nothing to do with our other extra curricular activities”.

He followed the line of your throat down into the buttons of your blouse. Jason could see the top of your lace bra when your chest heaved with each breath. He coughed deeply trying to suppress the urge to fuck you over his desk.

“I’m not in the business of charity Mr Todd, I don’t want a step ladder because we’ve been between the sheets”.

Jason edged closer to you, stopping just shy of your inviting legs, his voice was low and raspy, “I'm not stupid Y/N. If I was, my clubs would have sunk long ago. I’m giving you what you rightly deserve”.

You suddenly realised how close he was, the heat emitting off his powerful form as he towered over you. Your eyes were hooded and dark, “I want to build my way up brick by brick - on my own”.

“I don’t understand why you’re being so damn stubborn about this”, Jason growled his hands resting either side of you, backing you into the desk. His evident excitement brushed against your core.

You glowered up at him, ignoring the fire flaring through your nerves, “I told you once Todd, are you deaf as well as stupid? I want to earn my way to the top”.

Jason’s lips smashed against yours, knocking the air out of your lungs. His hands grabbed your hips tightly, pulling you flush against him. He groaned when you reacted instantly, grinding against his crotch. It was the kind of kiss where you both fought for dominance, tongues stroking against each other.

Your hands pressed flat on his chest and you pushed him back suddenly, eyes dark with lust. You smirked and purred, “Sit down”.

He raised an eyebrow and swiped his thumb along his bottom lip which was sticky from your lip-gloss. His tongue followed suit, moaning quietly. Raspberry. He stepped back slowly before dropping into his leather chair, legs spread wide.

You made your way across to him, pushing your skirt up over your thighs. Jason sucked in a deep gulp of air as he eyed the lace top of your stockings. Resting your knees either side of him, you smirked, straddling him with ease. Your hands snaked down his shirt, popping each button open, revealing his toned chest.

Jason noticed the tiny pink thong you were wearing and let his fingers trace over the front delicately, toying with the bow and pearl decorating the hem. You shivered at his touch and mewled.

Finding his belt buckle, you ripped it open quickly, unfastening his trousers with it. His fingers dipped under your thong, gliding through your wet folds like silk. Your hips stuttered, pushing onto his fingers involuntarily.

“Even when you try to be in control, your body still bows to me”, his voice was thick with lust, thumb brushing over your clit in lazy circles.

The coil in your lower stomach tightened deliciously as he continued to rub over your sensitive bud. You bit down hard on your bottom lip, trying to muffle your moans, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of hearing how much you enjoyed his touch.

He leaned his face forward and kissed the dip of your throat, tongue licking over your collar bone. Working his mouth further down your front he ripped open each button on your blouse with his teeth, exposing the matching bra underneath.

“You’re so fucking stunning…and all mine”, he said smugly, nipping the top of your breasts.

Your hands freed his hard cock from his boxers and began stroking it up and down, your thumb working over the tip to spread his precum down his length. He grunted and thrust up into your hand, causing you to smirk.

“Now who’s in control?”, you teased and continued to stroke his cock, moaning loudly. The feel of his throbbing cock in your palm was sending your mind spinning, you needed him inside you now, desperate to feel him stretching your pussy.

“You going to take me, princess?”, he meant it to come out in a condescending fashion but the desire coating his voice gave away his true feelings.

Moving into a high kneel, his hand slipped from your core and gripped onto the back of your thighs, fingers painting your skin with your slick. You looked down at him, angling his cock under your entrance.

Sinking down into his shaft in one fluid motion silenced any further coherent words from Jason. He growled loudly and his fingers dug bitterly into your flesh. Your walls stretched around his thick cock and you whined his name, hands gripping onto his neck.

He palmed your ass, rocking you on his lap slowly, your clit brushing against his pubic bone making you moan louder.

“Fuck”, he slapped your ass and thrust up eagerly, smirking when your walls clenched around him.

Pushing up on your knees, you began to bounce up and down on his shaft, groaning loudly when the head of his length bumped against your g spot. Jason leaned back in his chair for a second to admire the way your hips undulated on top of him. The way your face twisted with passion and the flush spread over your skin.

Your mouth fell open as you purred with pleasure, eyes falling shut to swim in the sensations. He trailed his hands up your waist and opened up the rest of your blouse hastily. Tugging the cups of your bra down, he freed both of your breasts, nipples pebbled and eager for attention.

Jason dipped his head forward, his lips latching around one of your nipples, flicking his tongue over it repeatedly whilst pulling the other between his thumb and forefinger. Your gasps got louder and you sobbed his name, slamming down onto his cock harder, pushing him deeper. 

“Jason! O-oh! Fuck!”, you cried and dragged your nails through his hair, gripping it harshly. He growled around your nipple, tugging it between his teeth.

The way your walls were clamping around his cock, he knew you were close, he traced his hand down your front, flicking his finger over your clit swiftly whilst he worked on your other nipple. 

“I’m - fuck - I’m clo-”, you moaned louder, the words dying on your tongue as you let the pleasure consume you like a burning fire. Your body shuddered as your orgasm ripped through you, your velvet walls pulsing around his thick cock.

Jason released your breasts and grabbed your hips sharply, thrusting up perfectly, hitting your sweet spot over and over. You could only hold onto him loosely, lips smothering his neck with sloppy kisses, as the fire ignited again, deeper.

“You gonna cum again all over my cock princess?”, he drove harder into your core, feeling your walls resisting him as you came close to a second, almost too intense orgasm.

“Jason-”, you bit down onto his shoulder as your second climax tore through you with little warning. His cock throbbed deep inside you before he growled loudly, emptying his load into your pussy. You felt his hot seed coat your walls and purred, pressing your hot face into his sweaty neck.

His hips slowed to a stop, arms wrapping around your back, pressing you into his body tightly. He smelt like pine and spearmint. Something you were becoming addicted to. You left kitten kisses along his jaw before settling on his lips. Light and delicate. You felt him twitching inside you with each feather soft kiss.

After soaking in the afterglow for a moment, you lifted yourself off his lap, readjusting your clothing. He fixed his suit slowly, watching you before leaving his tie on the desk. He simply couldn’t be bothered to fix it up for the rest of the afternoon. His shirt hung open at the top, teasing the top of his strong chest.

As the tops of your stockings disappeared under your deep red pencil skirt, Jason got out of his chair and made his way to you, hand wrapping around the back of your head carefully.

“About the promotion...”, he started softly, his hand playing with the back of your hair.

“I’ve made my feelings clear Jay”, you sighed and pushed back from him, looking up at him with the same passionate stare as before. It was that fire that had pushed you so far already.

Jason rested his palm on your cheek and stroked over it with his thumb gently; “I’m simply rewarding your outstanding work which has been recognised throughout this club, not just by myself”.

He wanted you to know this wasn’t just because you were both sleeping together. Jason genuinely admired your work ethic. He knew you’d go far and compliment his clubs perfectly. He wasn’t sure how else he could go about this to make you realise.

“Princess…”.

You softened when you felt his soft touch on your cheek. You leaned into it naturally before turning to press a kiss to his palm, “I’ll think about it, ok?”.

He seemed to settle for that, before giving you a cheeky smirk, “Don’t think about it too long though, I was hoping to take you out for dinner to celebrate”.

--------

#ceo!jason Todd x reader #ceo!jason todd x reader insert #ceo!jason todd x you #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd smut #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader insert #red hood smut #red hood fanfiction #red hood x reader #red hood x reader insert #red hood x you #jason todd x fem!reader #red hood x fem!!reader #jason todd x reader au series

[chic-a-gigot]

La Mode nationale, no. 7, 20 février 1897, Paris. No. 24. — Toilettes de promenades et de visites. Bibliothèque nationale de France

(1) Grande fillette. Corsage-veste non ajusté en lainage violine, revers semblables et grand col entourés de galon violet, col en fourrure; manches Empire, jupe courte et ronde avec galon en bas. Chapeau canotier en feutre, orné par de grandes coques de ruban écossais posées en aigrette.

(1) Big girl's unfitted jacket-bodice in purple wool, similar lapels and large collar surrounded by purple braid, fur collar; Empire sleeves, short, round skirt with braid at the bottom. Felt boater hat, decorated with large shells of Scottish ribbon placed in an egret pattern.

—

(2) Toilette de visites en satin vert saule, forme princess. Corsage croisé sur soie brochée bleue et paille, formant l'autre côté, col montant sous une ruche, manches petit ballon bouillonné en soie brochée, jupe princesse, ouverte sur les côtés par des plis en soie brochée. Toque de satin bouillonné avec fond Chouberski, et sur le côté grosse fleur d'où s'élance une aigrette.

(2) Visiting ensemble in willow green satin, princess shape. Crossed bodice on blue brocaded silk and straw, forming the other side, high collar under a ruffle, small bubbled balloon sleeves in brocaded silk, princess skirt, open on the sides with pleats in brocaded silk. Toque of bubbled satin with Chouberski background, and on the side a large flower from which an egret soars.

Métrage: 11 mètres satin, 3 mètres soie brochée.

—

(3) Toilette de ville en vigogne caramel. Corsage croisé fermé par des pattes, sous ceinture de velours, grands revers et col en velours semblable, encadrant une chemisette en mousseline crème. Jupe plate, plissée derrière, ouverte sur le côté, où elle est fermée par des pattes. Chapeau rond en feutre, orné sur le côté par un gros nœud, derrière lequel s'etagent une suite de plumes couteaux.

(3) City ensemble in caramel vicuna. Crossed bodice closed with tabs, under velvet belt, large lapels and collar in similar velvet, framing a cream muslin shirt. Flat skirt, pleated at the back, open on the side, where it is closed with tabs. Round felt hat, decorated on the side with a large bow, behind which are a series of knife feathers.

Métrage: 9 mètres vigogne grande largeur.

—

(4) Grande redingote en drap léger gris de fer, à dos ajusté et flottante devant. Devant boutonné sous des pattes, col très montant, manches petit ballon, jupe plate, plissée derrière, poches sur le côté. Toque de drap gris de fer, avec choux de ruban bleu sur le côté et plumes de coq en aigrette.

(4) Large frock coat in light iron gray cloth, with fitted back and flowing front. Buttoned front under tabs, very high collar, small balloon sleeves, flat skirt, pleated at the back, side pockets. Iron gray cloth cap, with blue ribbon on the side and egret rooster feathers.

Métrage: 6 mètres de drap gris de fer.

—

(5) Toilette de ville ne granité de laine bleu hussard. Corsage plat soutaché de noir, petite veste à pointe dessus, col en toile rabattu sur cravate écossaise; manches Empire soutachées noir, jupe brodée dans le bas, plissée derrière. Chapeau rond en feutre pain brûlé orné sur le côté par un groupe de coques en aigrette.

(5) City ensemble with hussar blue wool granite. Flat bodice trimmed in black, small pointed jacket on top, canvas collar folded over a tartan tie; Black attached Empire sleeves, embroidered skirt at the bottom, pleated behind. Round burnt bread felt hat decorated on the side with a group of egret shells.

Métrage: 9 mètres granité de laine grande largeur.

#La Mode nationale #19th century #1890s #1897 #on this day #February 20 #periodical #fashion #fashion plate #panorama #description #bibliothèque nationale de france #dress #gigot #coat #collar

[kingofthe-egirls]

MODERN AU: LUFFY x NAMI (part 8)

modern au

(cw: piv sex, sweet luffy, “daddy” nickname, polyamory, creampie)

(a/n: how do u eat a bear? one piece at a time…)

Songs: “Plans” by Maude Latour

wc: drabble

****

"That's why I'm in the fucking ring, baby," Luffy whispers to Nami as he pounds into her in missionary. Nami is blushing like a peach, her knuckles bitten white between her teeth. She turns her head to the side, Luffy's arms beneath her shoulders. He leans down to kiss her neck, biting at her bruising skin.

"F-fuck, Luffy--," she whines, amber eyes squeezed shut.

His rasping voice is fucked out and broken. Granite and silk. His hands are soft and warm from where they cradle the back of her head. He lands a kiss on her cheek, and then her nose. His eyes flutter shut as he presses his forehead against her temple, and inhales. "So good for me, baby," he mumbles, "Wanna take such good care of ya..."

"Please, Luffy--!" She cuts herself off with a groan, arching her hips back up into his violent thrusts. He grunts, arm muscles flexing as he braces himself around her. He grabs the edge of the headboard, using it for leverage as he picks up speed. Soon enough, he's jackhammering inside her with mumbled praises tumbling from his lips in one, incoherent stream.

"LUFFY!"

She screams, mouth open in an "O." He laughs, picking up his pace even more. "Cum on my cock, princess. Take it honey, that's it--that's a good girl,” he grunts, punctuating each word with a thrust, "That's daddy's good girl—!” He buries his face in her neck as he orgasms, cumming inside her with shuddered thrusts that shoot sparks down her legs all the way to the soles of her feet.

She whimpers out a cry of praises.

Luffy, Luffy, Luffy—!

****

#dumpster dive #kitty speaks #modern au #nami’s worries melt away #my writing #one piece fanfic #luffy fanfic #luffy x nami #nami smut #one piece smut #lunami #lunami smut

[teshamerkel]

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

[Chapter 46]

<< First | < Previous | Next >

AO3 Link

-

Tobias and Nia say their goodbyes to Fort Asra. Following Rosalind's info, they discover some unexpected answers in the desert.

-

Tobias wakes somewhere soft. Once he blinks his eyes open against late afternoon light, he realizes he’s back at Granite and Takeo’s place, in the room he and Nia have been boarding in. Dust motes float through sunlight against a wooden ceiling.

The quiet creak of the door and soft footsteps—familiar footsteps—make Tobias raise his head.

Nia startles at the movement, then hurries over with a smile. “Hey! How’re you feeling?”

Tobias tries sitting up, then groans when that makes his body ache and his head twinge with pain. His thigh is wrapped up tight in gauze, and it itches against his scales.

Nia motions for him to lie down. “Take it easy. You got pretty roughed up.”

No kidding. Tobias rubs at his eyes. “What happened?”

“Well…what do you remember?”

Tobias grudgingly allows himself to sink back into the pile of cushions. “I remember…Calder, jumping in to fight Eddy. And Grant and Takeo. They found us?”

Nia nods, smile twisting with wry humor, “Apparently Takeo didn’t trust us to stay out of trouble. He tagged us with his silk and tracked us across the desert once he realized we snuck out. Granite grabbed Calder along the way.”

Tobias isn’t sure if he should feel angry about that or not. The townsmon did save them from a second fight with the dewott that Tobias isn’t sure they would’ve won.

“What about Eddy and the Steelix?”

“Safely in custody!” Nia chirps, looking proud. “Calder and Lara kept them subdued until some psychics from the guild could come out to grab them.”

Tobias nods as he stares up at the ceiling, something in his memory nudging at him. Something important. He vaguely remembers Nia and Samir leading him out of the cave and up the ladder. The three of them hobbling past the downed steelix (and Tobias has questions about how that happened). Then Eddy attacking them back on the surface.

But before all that, he remembers a terrifying wave of earth bearing down on him, slamming into him and burying him alive. Blackness. Then, a slow return to awareness, soft fur holding him close. Nia’s voice, shaky but relieved. A tight, borderline-painful hug.

Tobias pauses. “Did you…dig me out from that rock slide? How did you find me in all that?”

Nia winces. She looks guilty. “I, um…we couldn’t find you at first, and I was scared you were suffocating. So I found your aura.”

Tobias’ head snaps up as something in his chest stutters. “You looked at my aura?”

He must sound sharper than he means to, because Nia frowns with her ears pinned back in the way she does when she feels defensive. “I thought you might be dying!”

The sudden fear that had bubbled up in Tobias’ chest melts abruptly into shame.

“Right,” he mutters. It still sounds loud in the quiet. “I…I know you did what you had to do.” He grimaces as he peers up at her, almost not wanting to ask. “So…what’d you see?”

Nia blinks. “Oh. Um. Not much, really. I was trying not to dig too deep and I was a bit, uh…distracted. Your soul is red?”

“Red? What does that mean?”

Nia quirks a smile and shrugs. “I’d have to actually focus and look again to tell you. All I know is that you’re a deep red. Almost maroon! I could tell it was you right away. It just…felt like you.”

For some reason, Tobias feels his face heat up at that. He looks away, claws kneading into the cushion in his lap. He supposes he’s glad Nia didn’t find any terrible truths from a fleeting glimpse of his soul, even if he still feels strangely exposed that she looked at all.

There’s a moment of silence where Nia busies herself with fluffing the cushions around Tobias. He can tell she has something to say. She keeps taking a deep breath and opening her mouth, hesitating before closing it again.

“Look,” Nia finally says. “I know you just woke up, but I’m afraid I’ll lose my nerve and we need to talk about this. About…how you get, when info about Team Zenith is involved.”

Oh. Tobias’ stomach sinks as he sits up again, ignoring the exhaustion in his body. “What about it?”

Nia gives him a tired look. “You know what I mean, Tobias.”

“I’m not going to stop looking for them.”

“I’m not asking you to!” Nia groans. She takes a deep breath, rubbing at her face.

"Then what are you asking?”

“I’m not saying we need to stop looking for them,” Nia starts. “I know that you won’t stop, no matter what. But we need to start being more careful about how we tackle these missions.”

Tobias knows that by “we,” she means he has to start being more careful. He’s the one who basically forced her and Samir down into the mines because he was desperate to finish the mission as soon as possible.

He vaguely remembers her hugging him and crying into his scarf, and feels a stab of guilt. Still, he can’t seem to apologize. The words lodge in his throat like a rock. Because he knows he would do it again.

Tobias stares down at his hands and mutters, “You didn’t have to come with me.”

Nia makes an offended noise. “I wasn’t going to let you march off alone to get killed!”

“It would be my fault if I died, not yours.”

Nia throws her hands up. “It doesn’t matter whose fault it would be, it would matter that you died!”

“Would it?” Tobias scoffs.

Nia stops mid-rant, looking stunned. Then, her expression slowly melts into something almost…hurt.

“Yes,” Nia whispers. “It would.”

To Tobias’ surprise, he believes her. Nia gets attached to Pokemon stupidly quick. It makes sense that she’s managed to get attached to him, despite his prickly attitude. They do spend pretty much every day together. Still, Nia could just join Andyn’s team or something if got himself killed. She’d be fine, after a bit.

There’s a heavy moment of silence. Tobias can feel Nia’s eyes on him, so he stubbornly looks out the window, where he sees the side of another building and a glimpse of bright afternoon sunlight.

Finally, Nia sighs. “We just…we can’t keep going like this, Tobias. The seviper in Ghatha, the steelix down in the mines. Rosalind is giving us dangerous missions.”

“I know that,” Tobias says. “What are you recommending we do about it?”

Nia’s mouth flattens into a frown. “I…don’t know. But Samir and I both thought it was too dangerous, and we turned out to be right. We almost died down there because of that.”

Tobias winces, feeling guilt drop heavy onto his shoulders. He wasn’t the only one he put in danger by charging into the mines. Nia and Samir easily could’ve been killed by that steelix. That possibility does scare him. It’s just…so hard for him to think of that, when he feels that desperate itch to follow a lead.

“Can you just…listen, when we try to get you to slow down?” Nia asks. “Be a little more careful?”

Tobias mulls that over. Her request is reasonable enough. She's not asking him to avoid dangerous situations entirely, after all, just to approach them with a bit more caution.

“Fine,” he says, eventually. “I’ll try to listen if you tell me to slow down.”

Nia doesn’t seem relieved by that. Instead, she tilts her head with a little furrow to her brow. Like she’s trying to get through to him, even though he’s already agreed.

“What?” He asks. “I said I'd be more careful.”

“No, I know. I’m glad. It’s just…it feels like you’re agreeing to get me off your back, not because you think it’s the best course of action.”

“What's the difference? Look, I’ll slow down a bit when you get freaked out, okay? And I’ll make sure I don’t drag you or anyone else down with me.”

Nia’s frown grows deeper. “What about you?”

“What about me?"

Nia opens her mouth to reply, then closes it again. “You…want to get revenge, right? On Team Zenith. For taking your family away.”

“Yeah. And?”

Nia bites her lip, but holds his gaze. She looks nervous, but determined. He hates that expression on her because it usually means she’s about to do something stupid.

Finally, she says, “You can’t take revenge for your family if you’re dead. If…If you rush us into a situation and get killed for it, that revenge will never happen, right?”

Tobias blinks back at her, surprised by the riolu’s unusual bluntness. He…hadn’t really thought of it like that before, as obvious as the line of thought is. He’d always sort of figured he’d throw himself at any information and hope for the best. If he died, he died. But…it would all be for nothing then. And if that's the case, it would be worth approaching leads more cautiously not just because Nia asked him to, but because his end goal has a better chance of coming to fruition, right?

Nia continues before he can respond. “Plus, think about what it’d do to Maggie if you were killed. Or the shinx kids. And if I didn’t somehow go down with you I’d be—“

Nia cuts herself off, blinking bright ruby eyes. Her lip quivers. “W-Well. I already thought that yesterday and you saw me then. I’d be devastated if something happened to you.”

Devastated. Somehow, that seems like such an…intense word to apply to him. Tobias doesn’t know if he’s quite worth feeling “devastated” over.

“You’d get over it,” Tobias scoffs.

That makes Nia upset. He sees the blue of her aura flash through her eyes. “You’re not over your family.”

Tobias flinches back as if she’d slapped him. “Of course I’m not! But that’s different!“

“How?”

“Because they were my family!” Tobias hisses.

“Maggie’s your family too! What would she do if she lost you?”

That trips Tobias up. Maggie is his family, and he is hers. But—

“It’s not the same!”

“Why?!”

“Because I should’ve been strong enough to protect my family! And I need to be strong enough now to make Team Zenith pay for what they did. If I go and get myself killed by being an idiot, there’s no one to blame but me. Certainly not Maggie or the kids.“

“None of us would see it that way,” Nia says, voice soft. "You don’t seem to value your own life much, but other people do.”

Something sharp tangles and knots in Tobias’ chest. “Well they shouldn't! I didn't ask them to!"

“I don’t think you get to decide how much other people care about you.”

And Tobias has nothing to say to that. She’s right.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Tobias huffs, looking away. “I’m sorry, all right? For putting you and Samir in danger. I won’t do it again.”

At least that’s one truth that’s easy to tell. He’ll just face it himself next time, if it comes to that. He has to stop dragging Nia down with him.

A heavy silence falls over the room. Tobias wonders if Takeo or Granite heard them arguing. He doesn’t hear either ‘mon moving around the small building, and Granite is very easy to notice with his heavy steps.

Finally, Nia sighs. It’s a defeated sound, but Tobias has a feeling she isn’t done, even if they don’t revisit this today.

Tobias accepts the uneasy truce, closing his eyes and resting his head back against the cushions. Both because he’s growing tired again and because he needs something to do in the awkward silence. Nia reaches over and picks up the book she’d come through the door holding.

For a while, the riolu reads while he rests his eyes and avoids conversation. He tries to track how far she gets by the flutter of pages turning, but loses track after twenty. He idly wonders what she’s reading about. He doesn’t think she brought a book along when they left the guild. Did she borrow one from Granite and Takeo’s shop?

Tobias’ mind wanders then to the itchy bandage circling the cut on his thigh. And then to the fight down in the mines. Eddy wasn’t too difficult to take down, once it was three-on-one. But the steelix…the giant’s face flashes through his mind, jaws strong enough to kill with a single bite.

Tobias cracks open an eye, cataloguing his partner’s lack of injury. The last thing he remembers before waking up from that rock slide, Samir had been knocked out and Nia had been left alone with the steelix. While he's grateful for it, Tobias can't figure out how she escaped so unscathed.

“So you took down the steelix, right?” Tobias asks, unable to completely stop the disbelief in his voice. “How..?”

Nia looks up from her book, taking a moment to enter the present and register his words. “Oh! You remember those blast seeds we got from that last client?”

Tobias frowns. “Oh. Yeah. I'd almost forgotten about them.”

Nia huffs a little laugh. “I did forget about them. The only reason I remembered at all was because of Giratina.”

There’s a pregnant pause. Tobias stares at Nia, trying to process what she just said.

“Giratina?”

Nia blinks back at him. Then, she bops a paw to her forehead. “Oh! Right! I knew I was forgetting something important! He kind of, uh…showed up down in the mines? In the reflections?”

Tobias sits up, alarm swooping through his gut. “What?!”

“But he helped us!” Nia hurries to say.

“Wh—Nia, he’s—“

“I know, I know! I didn’t trust him at first either.” Nia holds out her paws in a calming gesture. Tobias glares back at her but holds his tongue. This better be good.

“But..?”

“But he helped me hide myself when the steelix passed by. I probably would’ve been crushed otherwise. And he lead me to Samir, and then both of us to you.”

Okay, there’s…a lot to unpack there. Giratina supposedly helped them? For some reason? And Nia likely would have died down in the mines if not for the legendary, which is. Great. Tobias’ subconscious will love that nightmare fuel.

Nia must see the skepticism on his face, because she breathes a laugh. “I know. It sounds crazy. But Samir can vouch for me. I guess Giratina could be pulling some kind of long con, but I don’t think any of us would’ve made it out of there without him.”

Tobias wrestles quietly with that information. He’s heard whispers here and there about Giratina all his life, and literally not a single one was flattering. Add that to the fact that Giratina has been stalking his partner and tried to forcibly yank her into the distortion world, and he’s having a hard time believing that the banished legendary might actually have decent motivations.

On the other hand, Will told them not to trust Giratina, and Tobias hates that guy. So.

“So…what? We just trust him now?” Tobias asks.

To his relief, Nia shakes her head. “I’d still like to talk to Edme first before deciding on anything. Giratina helped us, but that doesn’t necessarily mean his end goals are good.”

Tobias sits back against the cushions. “Agreed. But knowing you, I figured you'd already decided to befriend him.”

Nia sticks her tongue out at him but doesn't respond. Tobias takes that as a win.

"So you wanna catch me up on everything that happened in the mines?"

The riolu almost seems surprised by the request, before she shifts position to get more comfortable and begins to talk. Her words start out hesitant, and she peeks at him like she isn’t sure he wants to hear all the gritty details, but she picks up speed and strength as she goes on. She tells him about Giratina appearing and helping her hide, the legendary leading her and Samir to Tobias, and how she defeated the steelix with the help of the blast seeds. Tobias locks his jaw every time she trails off, clearly trying to figure out how to soften the fact that she—or he or Samir—brushed close to death yet again. He feels terrible for leaving that all on her.

But he also can’t help feeling impressed, too.

“Quick thinking,” he comments, when she reaches the end of her retelling. “And...I am sorry for leaving you to fight him alone. You shouldn’t have had to do that.”

Nia gives him a tired smile. “I’m upset that you dragged us down there in the first place, not that you got knocked out. You couldn’t help that.”

Their discussion is interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. Tobias looks up in time to see a familiar skiddo face peer through the cracked opening.

“Samir!” Nia says, sounding happy but unsurprised. “C’mon in. Tobias is up!”

The skiddo shoulders their way into the room, giving Tobias a once-over as if to gauge how injured he is. Tobias raises a brow in return. When Samir is satisfied that the charmander isn’t going to keel over, they sit down and fix him with a heavy glare.

Tobias frowns back, not appreciating the immediate ire. “What?”

Samir adopts an incredulous expression. They look to Nia, then back to Tobias, then back again.

Nia barks a laugh. “Are you asking if I scolded him yet for dragging us down there?”

Samir nods.

Tobias rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, she already chewed me out about it.”

Samir closes their eyes and lifts their nose into the air as if to say, Good. Tobias gives in to the childish urge to blow a puff of smoke in the grass type’s face. Samir rears back with a wrinkled nose, kicking a small cushion at Tobias in retaliation.

“Okay, settle down!” Nia laughs, yanking the pillow from Tobias’ grip. “Now that Tobias is feeling better, I wanted to talk to you too, Samir.”

Tobias and Samir pause their feud to eye the riolu, wary. Nia’s innocent tone would normally mean something bad for Tobias, but her gaze is currently focused on Samir.

“Don’t look at me like that! I just wanted to say you fought really well down in the mines.”

Ah. Tobias sees immediately where she’s going with this. He smirks.

Samir clearly follows as well. They give Nia an unamused look.

Nia throws her hands up. “No, seriously! You were the perfect teammate!”

Samir's gaze moves to the door as if they’re legitimately thinking about getting up and leaving. Nia shoots Tobias a pleading look.

Tobias huffs. “She’s right, you know. She’s not just being nice.”

At that, Samir pauses. They fix Tobias with a solemn, searching look. Oh. They’re…actually taking Tobias seriously. He wasn’t expecting that.

Tobias clears his throat and straightens up. “You held your own down there.”

“And when we were fighting Eddy you worked perfectly with us!” Nia adds. “Totally in sync.”

Samir blinks at the two of them, wide-eyed. There’s some kind of emotion building behind their stoic expression. Tobias thinks he sees the skiddo’s mouth tremble.

Tobias snorts, trying to defuse the tension. “Your old partner’s an idiot if they thought you being mute meant you couldn’t work as a team. And your guildmaster’s an even bigger idiot if they wrote you off too.”

Nia nods emphatically.

At that, Samir ducks their head. Their shoulders shake.

“Yeah, you’d be an awesome addition to any team!” Nia adds. But this time, she looks to Tobias while Samir is distracted by wiping at their face. Her eyes are wide and hopeful as she looks between Samir and Tobias.

Oh. Tobias leans back, something like panic shooting through him. Is she really asking if she can invite the skiddo to join their team? That’s a huge decision! Not something she can just spring on him! Nia winces at his expression and makes a soothing gesture.

Tobias doesn’t say anything, warily letting her take the lead.

When Samir finally pulls themself together a bit, Nia gently says, “You know, if you ever feel like moving to the Lexym Guild, I’m sure August would love to have you. He’d get you paired up with a team in no time!”

Nia glances at Tobias, and he relaxes, giving her a tired nod. That’s…fine. No promises of a place on their team, but an offer of help and a better place for the skiddo to live. They can talk later about Nia apparently wanting to expand their team. The thought puts a pit in Tobias’ stomach, some part of him whispering that she just wants to replace her grumpy mess of a partner who keeps dragging her into death traps.

But then Nia lights up at his approving nod, tail wagging behind her, and somehow that helps ward away the bad thoughts.

“You don’t have to decide right now of course,” Nia says. “But…just keep it in mind, okay?”

Samir sniffs one last time and nods, avoiding both of their eyes. Tobias relates to the skiddo’s embarrassment when it comes to emotions, and hurriedly fishes for another topic of conversation to get the ball rolling.

Nia answers his questions about the aftermath of the mines. She tells him that he’s only been out for a day, and that Granite and Takeo didn't seem too mad about them disobeying orders and sneaking out. Apparently they just seemed relieved to see the three of them safe.

Tobias sees what she means when Granite and Takeo bring the three of them a small supper in the evening, commenting that it’s good to see Tobias up and awake. Takeo grumbles about reckless kids and their hero complexes, but there’s no real heat to the words. Nia and Samir both give Tobias pointed looks that he returns with a glare. He doesn’t have a “hero complex”—if anyone does, it’s Nia. He just has a mission to accomplish.

The rest of the night passes peacefully, with Samir leaving shortly after the meal.

By the next morning, Tobias is feeling more or less back to normal. Nia watches fretfully as he removes the bandages from his leg and checks the long, scabbed-over gash on his thigh. It’s probably going to scar, but it seems like it's healed enough to travel.

“We could rest for another day,” Nia suggests.

“We’ve got places to be,” Tobias objects, stretching his leg. “Did you get that information from Granite yet for solving the town’s earthquake problem?”

Nia shakes her head. “No. I figured since it’s from Rosalind you’d want to read it first. I can go ask Granite for it?"

At Tobias’ assent, the riolu leaves the room. Tobias takes a deep breath and rises to his feet to stretch out his sore, stiff limbs.

Rosalind promised them info on Team Zenith, on the outlaws, if they finished this mission for her. Tobias hopes it’s something substantial and doesn’t just lead them on a wild yungoos chase. They fought too hard for this not to be worth it.

After a minute or so, Tobias feels Granite’s heavy footsteps moving closer, down the hall. Nia comes pattering into the room just ahead of the donphan, moving to Tobias’ side and glancing not-so-subtly at his leg.

“Heard you were itchin’ to get movin’,” Granite greets them. The donphan has a satchel across his broad back—maybe preparing to go out for the day?

“I-I think so,” Nia says, bowing to Granite. “Thank you for everything! We really appreciate you letting us board here for the past few days.”

Granite waves her off with his trunk. “Straighten up, pup. If anything, we should be doin’ more to thank y’all. You stopped the quakes and even gave us some fresh mining work! Asra's in your debt. If you ever need help or somewhere to stay, you two know where to find us.”

Nia looks sentimental at that declaration. Tobias would bet money that she’s debating whether or not to give the older ‘mon a hug.

Before she can figure it out, Tobias clears his throat. “I’m glad we could help. Rosalind promised us some information in exchange for this mission?”

Granite’s easygoing expression fades. “Right. Listen, I know I said it before and you kids can handle yourselves, but be careful with Rosa, all right? That hatterene’s sketchier than a smeargle.”

Tobias gives an impatient nod.

“Here,” Granite sighs, digging a rolled-up piece of parchment paper out of his satchel with his trunk. “Came in from Rosa the other day, so I guess she was confident you’d get the job done. Sure hope it was worth nearly gettin’ yourselves killed.”

Tobias snatches the paper, quickly ripping it open. Nia quietly thanks Granite before crowding closer to Tobias to read over his shoulder.

Team Scarlet,

I trust that your determination will lead you to the answers our client seeks. In return, I’ve found a delightful piece of information about Team Zenith.

I have word that one of the outlaws, Asra the crobat, settled down just a few short miles from your current location.

Tobias’ breath catches. The crobat is near…here? But what does she mean by “settled down?” Is he hiding out or something? What about his other teammates? Why would he separate from them?

Tobias’ hold crinkles the paper under his hands. He reads on.

Word is that he may have taken on a new alias, going by the name Vesper.

I will warn you that this information is from two years ago, so there is a chance that the crobat has moved on to a different location. However, I thought you would still appreciate the opportunity to explore while you’re in the area.

Tobias reads on, taking in the directions to the supposed location, a few miles outside of town and just off the main road. Apparently the crobat uses a stack of stones as a marker for the turn. He and Nia must’ve passed the spot on their way into Asra without even noticing it.

Nia finishes reading before Tobias does, wordlessly pulling back. When Tobias catches up, he looks up to meet her eyes. She has an unreadable, serious expression on her face.

“Are we ready for this?” Nia murmurs.

“We have to be,” Tobias rasps in return. He glances down at the directions one more time before rolling the parchment back up. “If he is there, you can stay back. I don’t want to drag you into a fight if you don’t feel ready for it, and it’s my business anyways.”

Nia makes a quiet sound of protest, reaching out to touch his hand until he looks at her again. “I’m not leaving. We’re a team, remember? But just…try not to go running in before we can scope it out, all right? Remember what I said before. Let’s go in with a plan.”

Tobias isn’t sure how he can possibly manage that when he knows he’s about to come face-to-face with one of the outlaws who ruined his life. He’s already shaking, adrenaline buzzing beneath his skin. But Nia has a point. He can’t go running in and get himself killed before taking down the other two. Or worse, drag Nia down with him.

Stiffly, Tobias nods. Nia looks relieved, and gives his hand a squeeze before saying that she’ll get their satchel ready so they can head out. Tobias is grateful that she’s so willing to leave right away. He doesn’t think he could’ve handled having to hang around here knowing that the crobat is so close.

“Oi, little Char.”

Tobias looks back to Granite. The donphan gestures for Tobias to follow him, then shoulders aside the door and walks out into the hall, towards the front of the building where the shop is. Tobias glances at Nia before hesitantly trailing the ground-type’s thudding footsteps.

When Tobias enters the shop, he finds Granite shuffling out from between the shelves. The donphan is gently holding the little stringed guitar that Tobias had seen the first day they got to Asra.

Tobias can’t help the way his eyes linger on it, heart aching for a distant memory of music. To his surprise, Granite takes a step forward and holds the guitar out to him.

“It’s yours,” Granite says, more of a demand than a request. “A little something extra to say thanks, for all the trouble you went to to help us out. We appreciate it.”

Tobias stares at the guitar, stunned. Slowly, his hands drift out to take it. The wood is smooth and cool in his hands.

“Take good care of it now, y’hear?”

Tobias blinks, swallowing hard against a lump in his throat. Eventually, he manages to say, “Nia and Samir did most of the work.”

“I already gave the riolu a book she’s been eyeing. Just take it and don’t get yourself killed before you actually learn to play.”

Tobias, too choked up to speak, just nods his thanks, cradling the instrument close. Granite huffs in response and trundles back to the counter before Tobias can embarrass himself further.

For a moment, it’s all Tobias thinks about. He runs a thumb over one of the strings—it needs tightened and probably tuned, but the instrument is in fairly good shape. The wood is solid but flexible, a beautiful copper color and smooth to the touch, expertly carved.

He can try playing—can try making music like his family used to do, humming and singing in their cave. He can show those half-remembered melodies off to Nia, and Maggie! Maggie has a nice singing voice like his mom did and—

Like she did. Before everything. Before Team Zenith.

The rising euphoria in his chest plummets back to Earth.

Tobias doesn’t have time for this right now. He finally has a solid lead on one of the outlaws. He needs to focus on that, on what he’ll do when he meets with the crobat face-to-face.

Nia appears from the hall, worried expression lightening when she sees him holding the guitar.

Tobias ignores her probing look, taking the satchel from her to carry it himself. He carefully tucks the guitar away inside, making sure it’s cushioned by softer items. He feels hesitant to put it away, but he can always try it out later, once this is dealt with. This is more important.

“So we’re heading out right away?” Nia asks.

“Yeah.”

Nia nods, glancing at Granite. “Let me say goodbye to a few people. I’ll keep it quick.”

Tobias sighs, but gestures impatiently for her to get on with it.

He trails behind her as she says her thanks and goodbyes to Granite and Takeo. Granite gives them both hearty slaps on the back and tells them not to die. Takeo sends them off with a quiet blessing from his ancestors. Nia, of course, almost cries, giving them both a watery smile and a wave as they step off the porch.

“We only knew them for a few days,” Tobias points out, both exasperated and amused.

“So?” Nia sniffs. “It doesn’t matter how long you know someone. I’ll still miss them.”

Nia makes a point to stop by Deidra’s ruined saloon next, where the construction has been halted in Eddy’s absence. Luckily, Deidra (and Cody, staying close to her side like a comforting mountain) don’t seem angry with Nia and Tobias for arresting one of their own. They both thank the two of them for stopping the dewott before anyone else could get hurt. Deidra even refills Nia’s canteen and hands Tobias a few hydration berries for the journey ahead, giving them a wink.

Nia leads them to the edge of town next, where Calder and Samir are standing outside of Lara’s house.

“Word is you two are heading out,” Calder says, tipping his head in a capless greeting. “You sure you’re feeling well enough to get back on the road?”

Samir looks at them with an unreadable expression.

“We’ve rested enough,” Tobias says, hiking the satchel higher on his shoulder. “We have somewhere we need to be.”

At his side, Nia offers a helpless shrug and an apologetic smile of agreement.

“Hm.” Calder looks at them for a moment with lidded eyes. Then, he nods. “Well, you two take care of yourself. I’ll be sure to pass along word to the guild about your help.”

“Oh,” Nia says, exchanging a surprised look with Tobias. They’d thought they weren’t going to get any recognition for this one, since it wasn’t an official mission. “Thank you!”

“Least I can do,” Calder scoffs, for a moment looking a bit self-deprecating. Then he shakes his head. “You two take care of yourselves, all right? No more jumping into dangerous situations without backup.”

Nia gives Tobias a pointed jab with her elbow. Tobias hisses under his breath and elbows her back.

Calder almost looks amused. Then, he tips his head to them again. “Let me know if y’all ever need any help. Asra’s authority has your back.”

And with that, the inteleon strides off, leaving them alone with Samir. This silence feels a bit heavier, a bit more loaded with indecision and emotion.

Eventually, Nia says, “I meant what I said yesterday, you know. The Lexym Guild would be happy to have you as a Seeker.”

Samir’s stiff posture and hard expression soften, just a bit, under Nia’s reminder. They sigh, then write in the dirt.

THANKS

WILL THINK ABOUT IT

NEED TO HELP TOWN RECOVER

Nia looks disappointed, but smiles all the same. “That’s sweet of you to hang around and get everyone back on their feet.”

“Just don’t let your old partner or your guild push you around,” Tobias gruffs.

Samir gives them a small, subdued smile and a nod. Nia sniffles. Tobias isn’t at all surprised to look over and see her blinking back tears, mouth wobbly.

“Arceus,” he huffs, rolling his eyes.

“What? It was great having Samir with us!” Nia defends, voice wavering. She turns back to the skiddo. “Really. We’ll miss you. Take care, okay? Hopefully we see you sooner rather than later.”

Samir seems caught off-guard by the riolu’s emotions. They fluster, shuffling their hooves for a moment before nodding and writing, YOU TOO.

Nia does start crying at that, just a little bit. Samir, panicked, steps closer as if to try and help, and Nia takes the opportunity to give them a parting hug.

Tobias stuffs down a sharp jab of annoyance and rolls his eyes. “Nia.”

Nia frees Samir, who looks embarrassed by the affection as they take a step back, straightening their posture. Tobias spots a zebstrika-pulled cart ahead, being loaded up with goods and likely about to head out.

He nudges Nia. “We need to get going if we want to try hitching a ride.”

“Oh! Right. Thanks again, Samir. Stay safe.”

Tobias hurries over to the pair of zebstrika hooked up to the cart, asking if he and Nia could hitch a ride a few miles outside of town. The electric types request a few poké in return, which Tobias grudgingly hands over.

Soon enough, the two of them are bouncing along atop a small cart of goods. They slowly trundle up the narrow path circling the canyon wall, watching Fort Asra shrink below them, a deep blue sky overhead and a canyon of warm, bright tans below.

It’s past noon by time they catch sight of the landmark listed on the map: a large stack of stones at the side of the road, taller than Tobias and Nia combined. Tobias calls for the cart to stop so they can disembark, waving off the zebstrika with a word of thanks.

As the cart wheels away, leaving a faint cloud of dust in its wake, Nia leans in to peer at the directions over Tobias’ shoulder. “You’re sure this is the right place?”

“Rosalind’s info says this is the landmark.” He squints at the dirt ahead, trying to summon up some of Samir’s tracking abilities. “Am I losing it, or is there a trail here?”

Nia tilts her head, as if that’ll help her see better. “…Maybe?” She takes a deep breath, nose twitching.

Tobias suddenly recalls Fen’s words from long ago, when Nia first showed up. “Hey, why don’t you ever use your nose to try tracking?”

Nia looks over her shoulder, as if he’s talking to someone else. She looks back to him, bewildered. “Me?”

He rolls his eyes. “Yes, you! You see any other riolu out here?”

Nia frowns and looks down at her nose, cross-eyed. “I…I guess I’ve never tried? I usually try to ignore my nose when we go places, since smells are so strong in this body. It all just jumbles together and gets really overwhelming.”

Tobias supposes that makes sense. He keeps Rosalind’s instructions out but starts a tentative path forward across the rocky desert landscape, trying to follow the faint remains of a path he thinks he sees. “So humans don’t use their noses to track?”

Nia laughs, which gives him his answer. “Nope! We can use scent dogs to track things, but our sense of smell isn’t good enough for that. Do you really think I could learn to do that?”

“Yeah? You’re a riolu. You just gotta…learn to separate the smells or something.”

“Ah, of course. Why didn’t I think of that?”

Tobias gives her a dry look, before turning back to the map. He only looks at it in short glimpses, sparing the rest of his attention for their surroundings. He doesn’t want to be caught off-guard by anyone, even if everything is so bright and open out here that it’d be hard to sneak up on them.

“Maybe we can find a tracker when we get back to the guild,” Tobias says after a few minutes, hearing Nia taking deep breaths as if trying to absorb the desert scents.

“That would be cool,” Nia murmurs, distracted as she takes another lungful of air. “It’s actually easier out here, since there aren’t a lot of different things to smell.”

Tobias hums and they continue on, scrabbling over rocky terrain and scraggly plants, occasionally ducking under low rock formations. Tobias enjoys the sun against his skin, more than comfortable encased in heat, but Nia has to dig out her water flask within minutes and needs to take periodic breathers in patches of cooler shade. Tobias tries to be patient and not rush her, knowing riolu aren’t built for this climate like he is.

Eventually, Tobias spots another stack of stones shimmering in the desert heat, and he steers them in that direction even as he increases his wary glances around the environment. He does feel better about seeking out the crobat in the height of the day, when he would naturally be asleep, but he doesn’t want them to be caught off-guard. The crobat’s hideout is only supposed to be a mile or so off the main road, after all.

It's late afternoon when Tobias finally spots something out of place in the distance: a small Pokemon-made structure, high off the ground and built into the side of a rocky spire. He points it out to Nia, putting Rosalind’s directions away, and the two of them tread closer on quiet feet.

When they’ve gotten close enough, they crouch behind some nearby rocks and peer up at the strange structure. Tobias isn’t sure exactly what he was expecting, but it wasn’t…this.

The building almost looks quaint. Like a little house. It’s a small wooden structure built into the side of a spire of rock, 15 yards or so off the ground. A rickety, narrow staircase zigzags up the rock face to lead to the front door. Most baffling, there are flowers growing in a basket on the windowsill, and colorful, almost scribble-like markings on the side of the rocky spire that Tobias can’t decipher from here.

“It kind of looks like a house,” Nia murmurs, sounding as confused as he feels.

“Don’t let your guard down."

This has to be a trap or something. He pulls out the letter from Rosalind again, scanning it to be sure they got the directions right. Not like they’ve seen any other buildings since leaving Asra—they’re truly in the desolate emptiness of the desert now. Only someone hiding away from the world or wanting to go completely off the grid would choose to live out here.

Could Asra—or Vesper, or whatever he’s going by—really be here? Tobias has to admit this place doesn’t look like somewhere a murderous outlaw would be hiding, but maybe that’s the point.

“Maybe we should stake it out for a bit,” Nia suggests, eyeing Tobias worriedly as if expecting him to run up to the door with his claws out and flames burning.

Tobias grunts his agreement, sitting down and peering around the edge of the rock to keep his eyes locked on the building’s front door.

This just…doesn’t feel right. Tobias always imagined when he came face-to-face with any of the outlaws from Team Zenith, it’d be an immediate fight to the finish, out in the wilds. Not…this. Not waiting for the crobat to show up and…what? Water his flowers?

Some part of Tobias wants to laugh. Another part of him feels sick to his stomach. He can’t pinpoint exactly why, but his heart is slowly speeding up. Rosalind did say that the information was from a few years back. Could the crobat have moved on?

He continues to stare down the door. Waiting. Distantly, he hears Nia ask him something once or twice, but he can’t seem to pull his focus back to her. It feels like he has to keep all of his attention on that door, no matter what. Like it’s a matter of life and death.

Slowly, the minutes tick by in tense silence. The sun sinks lower, edging towards sunset.

Tobias is only broken out of the spell when he hears a noise of some kind from inside the structure. A high shriek. He stands, tensed and ready to run for the door. What was that? Does someone need help? Is the crobat hurting someone in there right now?

Before he can move from their hiding spot, Nia grabs his arm. He jumps, startled by the sudden touch.

“Wait,” She whispers. “I hear—”

The door slams open, and high-pitched laughter spills out. Two small shapes burst outside and unfurl their wings, giggling and circling each other in the air with quick, frenetic wingbeats. Too small to be the crobat, and neither one is the right color. Plus their voices are too young.

“Kids?” Nia murmurs, sounding just as confused as Tobias feels.

“Be back at midnight for supper!” A voice calls from inside the house. A moment later, the distinct angular ears and pink heart nose of a swoobat leans out the door.

The two kids flap their wings to hover in place, finally still enough to see. They’re little more than tiny blue puffballs with matching heart noses and toothy grins. Something about them feels slightly strange, though, and it puts Tobias on edge.

“Okay, Mom!”

“And don’t play too close to any unstable rocks. You know the rules.”

The kids—woobats—groan but agree before zipping away.

The swoobat sighs and mutters something to herself before propping open the door and heading back inside.

Tobias stares at where the psychic-type disappeared, his stomach sinking. There’s…a family living here, which means the crobat has to have moved on. Surely he’s not sticking around the area, not with witnesses living so close by. They seem comfortable here, too. Familiar. Like they've lived here for a while.

“He’s not here,” Tobias says, toneless. They missed another lead. He rubs at his face, trying to decode and push away whatever wave of emotion is lapping at his heels. Whatever it is, it doesn’t feel good. “Great.”

Nia glances back at the house. “Maybe this family has an idea of where he could’ve gone?”

“You think the wanted murderer made nice with the neighbors before going on the run?”

Nia twists her mouth in a way that means she isn’t exactly hopeful about the possibility herself. Still, she stands and says, “I’m going to go ask. No harm in checking, right?”

She says it as if she’s going to go alone, but Tobias immediately straightens up to follow her. He’s not going to sit down here and have her do the investigating for him.

Nia relents, leading the way to the base of the old wooden stairs built into the side of the rockface. The wood creaks and dips under their weight, but doesn’t give. As they climb, the bright markings on the side of the spire become much clearer with proximity. Tobias can see now that they’re wobbly, messy children’s drawings. Like the ones he and Vivi used to make on the inside of their cave growing up. He swallows hard and moves his eyes back to the steps.

As they reach the top landing, the faint sound of humming that Tobias had barely registered cuts off. A moment later, the swoobat pokes her head out of the doorway, ears perking and eyes growing wide at the sight of Nia and Tobias.

“Oh! Hello there. Are you two lost?”

Tobias opens his mouth to answer, then thinks better of it when he already feels off-kilter.

Nia steps in. “Hello! No, we were actually looking for someone, but it doesn’t look like he’s here. We were wondering if you maybe knew him before you moved in?”

The swoobat relaxes at the question, stepping out onto the makeshift porch. She’s holding a small dish towel between her wings. “I’ve lived here since this house was built, actually.”

Tobias looks up at the swoobat’s face, startled. “What?”

“Oh!” Nia seems equally unprepared for that statement. “W-Well, um. Do you happen to know of anybody living nearby named Asra? O-Or Vesper.”

“A crobat,” Tobias adds, voice tight.

The swoobat drops the dish towel, fluffy collar puffing with surprise. Then, her ears lower as her expression weighs down with something deeply sad. “Vesper? Yes, he…he was my mate.”

Tobias’ breath catches. He stares at the swoobat as his mind fumbles and blanks. Thoughts drain away from him like water.

Mate?

“Was?” Nia echoes gently, after a moment of stunned silence.

The swoobat takes a shuddering, bracing breath, picking up the dish towel with her flexible pink tail. “Yes. Vess passed a little over a year ago, after an accident. I’m…I’m sorry you had to find out this way. I didn’t know many of his friends to notify them.”

Through a numbing static, Tobias hears Nia stutter, “O-Oh! No, we weren’t—I mean…”

“He’s dead?” Tobias rasps.

The swoobat squeezes her eyes shut tight, as if pained by the very reminder. “Yes. Would you like to see his resting place? I’m sure he’d appreciate you stopping by.”

Nia glances at Tobias like he's a live bomb, clearly worried that he’s about to fall apart. Strangely, Tobias feels blank instead. Hollow. His mouth responds for him. “Yes.”

The swoobat gives him a sympathetic look. She asks him and Nia to meet her back at the bottom of the stairs before gliding off the edge of the wooden platform and spiraling down.

Nia turns to him immediately. “Tobias—"

“Let’s go,” He says. “I want to see it.”

Nia looks like she wants to argue. But then she nods, moving towards the stairs and waiting for him to match her steps. As if he might fall off if she moves even a step ahead of him.

Tobias doesn’t register much in the next few minutes. He vaguely feels himself moving down the steps. Realizes at some point that he and Nia are following the swoobat a short distance away across dirt and desert sand to a small cave. The psychic-type’s soft, compassionate voice grates on his ears. Nia is a warm weight glued to his side. He matches her steps, unable to do much else.

And then he’s there, standing in a tiny cave surrounded by cool air. Bright sunset light spills in from behind, painting everything warm against heavy shadows. The swoobat has left, probably for their privacy. Nia has taken a step away to give him space, but he can feel the weight of her gaze.

In front of Tobias sits a small monument, carefully carved and lovingly cared for. Desert flowers and dried berries sit at its foot, carefully arranged.

Vesper

Beloved Mate and Father

Now One with Lunala’s Stars

Among the offerings, Tobias sees a simple painting, likely made by the two children they’d glimpsed earlier. There’s a large purple blob surely meant to represent the crobat, smiling with wide white fangs. Two smaller, bluer blobs sit happily under his wings.

And somehow that is what brings Tobias’ emotions roaring back.

He thinks of the two woobat he saw earlier, about how they felt slightly off to him. He realizes now what it was. They were just a bit speedier than Tobias would expect of such young Pokemon. As fast as the blur of violet wings from his memory. Their fluffy fur just a shade closer to violet than blue.

The crobat who helped destroy his family, who ruined his life, had kids. Had a mate, and a home. He had happiness, after ripping all of that away from Tobias. And he didn’t even have the decency to live long enough to look Tobias in the eye when he came to ask why.

Rage pours through Tobias, hotter than any flame he’s ever wielded.

One instant he’s at Nia’s side. The next, he’s lunging forward with a feral cry. The children’s painting is torn to shreds beneath his claws. The flowers and berries are set ablaze in a flash of fire, bright and hot. He lunges for the stone next, aiming to crack it against the wall until it snaps and crumbles.

Strong arms hook around his middle, yanking him back.

Tobias’ responding snarl almost drowns out Nia’s call of his name, but she only tightens her grip. He writhes and tries to get traction on the dirt, but she drags him back, towards the opening of the cave. Once they’re a few feet away, she swings him around and lets go, standing as a barrier between him and his target. She’s panting, wide-eyed.

“Move!” Tobias snaps.

“T-Tobias, I know you’re upset but—”

“Move!” Tobias snarls, embers spitting from his mouth.

“Tobias, you need to take a second and—”

“Don’t tell me what I need!” He hisses. He tries to push through Nia’s stance, only for her to catch him and lock her hands with his, leaving them eye to eye and straining for ground.

“Tobias, she’s going to come back and see—"

“So what?! She needs to know! She should know that her mate killed a family in cold blood!”

“That won’t help anything!” Nia says through gritted teeth. “What will that accomplish?! Make her feel guilty for loving someone so horrible? Make her kids feel like there’s something tainted in their blood? It won’t help anyone! He’s dead!”

“Maybe they deserve to live with it!” Tobias shouts. He feels panicked as his rage falters into something heavier. Traitorous tears prick hot at the back of his eyes. “Someone should have to!”

Nia falters, eyes going wide. Tobias could break through easily now, if he tried. Instead, he tightens his grip on her hands, trying to stoke his rage back to its full power.

“What right do you have to stop me?! You don’t get it!”

“Tobias,” Nia murmurs, looking uncertain. “I…”

Tobias stares at her, panting, as tears bubble up in his eyes. He’s shaking as the rage mixes with grief in his chest, boiling under his skin both ice cold and magma hot.

“You don’t get it,” he repeats, voice breaking.

Nia stares at him, brow furrowed. Slowly, her hold loosens. She slips free of him, stepping back and out of Tobias’ way. She looks at the memorial, then him, then away.

“You’re right. I-I…I don’t understand. But if this will help, then…I won’t stop you.”

Tobias…doesn’t know what to do with that. His fury has already started to die down after the riolu’s interruption. The magma has hardened to something heavy and horrible, weighing him down. He doesn’t want to sit with that. He wants the fire back.

Tobias staggers forward, back to the memorial. His feet brush through fine ash, still smoldering. He stares at the gravesite through his tears, the delicate carvings of a crobat and lunala blurring. He raises a hand, claws at the ready, but can’t seem to bring it down. That just makes him feel worse.

Tobias swallows thickly, a sob shuddering from his chest. He came here with the intent of taking the crobat down, taking him into custody or even killing him if it came to it. He'd thought for eight years about the questions he would get answers to, the vindication he would feel tearing down one of the monsters who destroyed his life.

Instead, he’s at the grave of a Pokemon who had a mate and kids, who had a family that loved him. It feels…twisted. Wrong. Like he’s in a bad dream.

Tobias’ legs give out beneath him, and he leans forward to rest his head on the stone, cries ripping from his throat. The ugly thing in his chest doesn’t seem to die down, only raging on and on and on.

He can feel it, when Nia hesitantly joins him. She kneels at his side.

He looks up at her, gut churning with nausea. “Why did he get to be happy? He didn’t—he didn’t deserve to…”

Nia’s expression crumbles, and for a moment Tobias thinks she might start crying too. “I don't know,” she says, soft. She hesitantly slides a paw up to rub circles into his back. “I’m sorry, Tobias.”

Tobias doesn’t realize he’s leaning into her until she's already wrapping him up in a hug. He hugs her back tight enough to hurt, but the pressure and the warmth and the soft texture of her fur helps, somehow. It feels grounding. Gives him something to latch onto aside from the turbulent waves of his emotions.

He doesn’t know how long he cries, soaking Nia’s fur and shuddering through waves of nausea. She murmurs quiet, meaningless comforts to him. Rocks with him and uses her thumbs to trace soothing circles against his back.

By time Tobias is somewhat calm again, he feels like the wrung-out dish rag the swoobat had been holding earlier. Flimsy and worn, with a few holes and gritty stains left behind.

The light coming in from the cave’s opening is now gray and weak, dusk on the cusp of night.

Tobias sniffs, staring sightlessly at the ruined bits of the memorial beneath them, now nothing more than scattered ash blending in with the dirt floor.

“I want them to hurt, too,” Tobias says, voice tight. “I know I shouldn’t.”

Nia squeezes him tighter.

“I know they didn’t do anything wrong. They didn’t know, but…”

Before Tobias can fully form that thought, he sniffs and leans away from Nia, wiping at his eyes. It feels cold without her so close.

They both look at the gravestone in front of them, so carefully carved and lovingly cared for. But it’s alone, out here in the wilderness. He can’t touch anyone else, buried six feet under and miles from civilization.

It still feels too good for him. Some part of Tobias still wants to kick the headstone over and scorch it black. He wants to dig up the crobat’s bones and scatter them in the desert sand. But that part of him feels ugly and too much like the monster buried in front of him, so he tries to let it make itself known before passing through his mind.

A quiet sound at the mouth of the cave catches Nia’s attention, and Tobias follows her gaze.

The swoobat has returned, framed by dusk light. Her round eyes are focused on the absence of gifts at the foot of the grave, at the ashes left in their wake. Tobias expects her to be upset, to yell and chase them out. Instead, her gaze moves to Tobias, brow furrowing into something like realization.

There’s a heavy moment of silence.

Finally, the swoobat breaks it, stepping forward. “Vess always held a lot of…regret. For something that happened in his past. He wouldn’t tell me about it, but he mentioned that it’s why he parted ways from his team all those years ago and settled down near Asra. It’s where he was born.”

Before Tobias can respond to that, the swoobat’s gaze flicks away, nervous.

“He was very upset once. When we bumped into a charmander at the market to the south. Wouldn’t talk for a week. D-Did…did something..?”

Tobias feels the weight of expectation settle onto him, but he’s so tired that it barely registers what he’s hearing. How is he supposed to react to this revelation? How is he supposed to feel knowing that the crobat apparently felt some measure of guilt for what he was a part of? That he was upset about it?

Ha. Lot of good guilt does. Doesn’t bring back his family.

The embers of rage spark back to life. Not blazing, but hot enough to put Tobias’ limbs into motion. Tobias staggers to his feet, then towards the swoobat. The psychic-type stands strong and stares back at him, expression resolute even as her body trembles.

She’s scared. Terrified that Tobias is going to tell her something she never wanted to hear. That he’s going to ruin the memory of her beloved mate and the father to her kids. Tobias wants to. He wants to watch her face fall with shock and horror. Wants to spread the terrible grief caused by the crobat’s actions like a toxin.

But Tobias thinks of Nia’s words. Thinks of those kids. Thinks of how much guilt he carries for not being strong enough to protect his sister. Thinks how terrible he would feel for someone he loved and admired to be responsible for such loss.

“Your mate,” Tobias finally spits. “Wasn’t a good Pokemon. At least he wasn’t a terrible father.”

The words feel like acid in his throat. He doesn’t know if leaving her in the dark is a mercy or a punishment. He shoves past the swoobat, stomping away into the desert. Away from their happy little home and the gravestone of a murderer.

He walks, and walk, and walks. Lets the rhythm of the motion replace his thoughts. Eyes ahead, unseeing of the desert around him.

Tobias doesn’t come back to himself until he stumbles over a stone in the ground. He catches himself on his hands and knees, scuffing them. The pain seems to jog something in his brain, because he suddenly settles back into the shell of his body.

The dirt is cooling quickly beneath him with the falling night. Nia is at his side, watching silently. Overhead, stars glitter like layers of crystal. Tobias thinks he can hear the distant laughter of the woobat children.

“Tobias?” Nia asks, soft voice loud in the night air.

“Should I have told her?”

Nia falters. Then, almost too quiet to hear, she murmurs, “I don’t know.”

Tobias takes a deep breath, letting it out in a puff of steam that wisps and curls. He stands. “Let’s go.”

“A-Are you sure?”

Tobias nods, rubbing at his sore, tired eyes. “Let’s just…go find Edme. We still need to learn more about Giratina."

Nia stares at him with worried eyes. She must be able to tell that he’s just looking for something else to focus on. That he just wants to leave, and not think about any of this for a while. That he wants to get some distance between himself and the sweet little family his personal monster left behind.

Tobias expects her to bring it up, to say that they need to talk about it. Instead, Nia slowly nods, reaching out to slip their satchel off Tobias’ shoulder and over her own. She hesitates, then reaches out a paw to take his hand, gently tugging him into motion. Tobias doesn’t fight her, grateful as she leads his unmoored body back towards the road.

#pmd #pokemon mystery dungeon #pokemon #riolu #charmander #pmd seekers of soul #tesha draws #tesha writes

[tax--payer]

Top 15 Things to Spruce Up Your Girl-Nest

By Amelia Earheart

and the Coconut Crabs

1, Sticks: What’s a Girl nest without its main component, the nest! While sticks are the standard, you can also use other thin, twig-like things to build up the structure of your nest, such as femur bones or plastic chair legs. Though sticks are the most accessible and are best for beginner Girls. 2, Glitter: If your prey doesn’t get covered in small shiny particles while you prepare them, what’s the point of having a Girl nest at all? You can go wild with variety with this one too, there are billions of shapes and colors of glitter waiting to be discovered by the next researcher. 3, Spider Silk: Any great Girl nest needs some webbing! From active spiderwebs, to cobwebs, to those little lego spiderwebs, the world is in your hands with this one, personally I like to use the orange cotton fake webs you can get at stores near halloween. 4, Work Desk Covered in Various Mechanical Parts: A Girl’s needs to work, doesn’t she?

5, Sleeping Rock: Every Girl’s gotta sleep, what place better than a good old fashioned sleeping rock. Whether you want to go gleeby deeby on a comfy slab of quartz, relax on the classic granite, or take a Girl-nap on some ever shifting limestone, the world is your oyster. 6, Bones: The perfect way to show off to any visiting Girl’s or creatures! Every bone tells a story, usually a story about how you destroyed some sort of bone having thing for food and/or funsies! 7, Heap of Papers of Unclear Contents: Humanity’s scientific progress is centuries behind an average research type Girl’s knowledge base. One day they may even crack the code to unlock the wicked blast ability. Make sure your heap is put together in a way that only you understand the order of things. 8, Moss Pile: The perfect pile for squorshing and attracting new friends! Comes in many varieties to match the choses aesthetic of your Girl nest. Sheet moss is great for beginners and can be combined with your sleeping rock for some extra creature bonus. 9, Big Mushroom: Usually mushrooms appear in Girl nests often due to their dark, cold, and damp nature, but if you want to really show off you gotta grow some huge fungi. You can help this process along by leaving a pile of discarded food/friends in the desired location. 10, Pipe Bomb: A standard type self defense item carried by every Girl across the globe. It may be a good idea to keep a stockpile in your nest for security and Girl type parties. 11, Strange Unknowable Devices that Click and Chatter Without End: These will naturally appear as you progress further in your Girl type research. Where do they come from exactly? What are they made of? Are they food? Can we play toys with them? These are the questions all Girl type researchers hope to answer. 12, Girl pellets: A delicious scrumption, a delectable snack, a stupendous nosh, a jovial chow, a enticing munchie, a divine morsel, a luscious nibble, a ambrosial munch, a nectarous feast, a exquisite ration, a yummy treat. 13, Blankets: Seen as a typical Girl type garment, blankets have many uses other than clothing. They are perfect for keeping your moss pile warm during cold winter nights, and for hiding your malicious wares beneath! 14, Mysterious Goop of Unknown Origin: A classic Girl type item. 15, Skeleton Key:  A marrow white key with a skull shaped head with ever-changing grooves. Girls most frequently use it to fidget around with and to play toys. Whose skeleton will it unlock? Perhaps yours, dear reader?

#Girl nest