#3000 hits one shot!

[kalolasfantasyworld]

The birdies at the wedding 🕊️

A little one shot posted for 3000 hits!

Summary:

Helena, Nozel, Heinry, Noureen and Natalia attend the wedding of Asta and Noelle.

Just lots of fluff, pretty descriptions, spanglish and some silly jokes 💕

Yes, there is an illustration 🩵

Type: One shot

Word count: 2800

Author's note:

I mention other people's OCs. (Literally mentions, but I couldn't stop myself 😁.) They belong to @lyranova @thoughtfullyrainynightmare and @loosesodamarble.

The ceremony at Asta and Noelle’s wedding was simply beautiful. Helena could come up with multiple astounding adjectives to describe it, but she was sure that even all of them complied could not reflect on how she was feeling. She bawled her eyes out and was loudly sobbing, while using a handkerchief to wipe away her never ending tears of joy. 

Her children two nine year old boys Heinry and Noureen, and Natalia a three year old little girl would point out her emotional state. 

“Mama, why are you crying?” Heinry pulled on her dress. “Papa do something!” He would then bother Nozel, who just smiled softly and stayed quiet as all of them should have done through out the ceremony. 

After Asta and Noelle spoke their vows and finally said the long awaited ‘Yes’, the party was moved from the great chapel to the Silva Estate ballroom. As the Lady of the house it was Helena’s job to have it meticulously prepared. She obviously poured her heart out and countless hours at that, towards reaching her goal. The grand hall was lavishly decorated with white, pink, purple and blue flower bouquets, garlands, lights and all possible accessories. However it was not too much, just the perfect amount to not let anyone feel overwhelmed, but allow them to appreciate the interior. Helena cared for the good name of House Silva and she continued to fulfil that playful promise she had made to Nozel years ago, about pouring her dignified strength and giving her best for the prosperity and reputation of their House. Theirs. And now Asta joined the Silva family too. 

The newlyweds sat at a rectangular table, which was specially raised on a platform, so that everyone could see them. Kahono as Noelle’s bride’s maid and Yuno as Asta’s best man, sat on both of their sides. Next to Yuno there was one additional seat prepared for his fiancé Neva, but she disappeared somewhere within the crowd and had yet to join them. 

Helena and her familia were seated at the table to the right from the newlyweds. Next to them sat Solara and Fuegoleon with their own three cubs. They were engaged in some pleasant conversations and Fuego was completely drowning in the mesmerising green eyes of his wife. Helena watched them fondly, happy that everything seemed to have fallen in its right place. 

She turned towards her three birdies, whose sight filled her with joy and pride only a mother could understand and smiled. Noureen was fidgeting with the high neck of the white jabot that he was wearing. It contrasted with his pastel red, sleeveless blazer and chocolate brown strands of hair, that fell onto his shoulders. Under the blazer he wore a white shirt with golden bands gripping it at his wrists. Matching pants were straight pleat and golden sandals finished of his look. The red cross flory fitchy earring in his right ear proudly stated, which house he belonged to. Although everybody could probably guess it anyway, because his hair was styled almost exactly as Nozel’s. And those eyes of his, they were lilac, just like nana Acier’s and his papa’s. 

Heinry wore the exact same outfit, just that the accents were baby blue and the earring was on his left ear. He looked like a miniature copy of Nozel with his silver hair styled in an eagle like manner. However only looked, because when it came to his behaviour, nothing could scream louder the energetic atmosphere of the Drazels. 

Natalia sat on the other side of the table in a raised seat specially prepared for a three year old. Her silver hair was getting longer and it was neatly styled in soft waves. The dark brown eyes of the girl were excited as she tried manoeuvring towards her mouth a piece of duck using a small fork. Helena worried that she would drop it on her soft lilac dress and then they would need to leave the party to get her changed. Thankfully Nozel was there to save the day. With a flick of his fingers he created some mercury protecting the fabric. 

Classical ballroom music was being played by the band and Kahono, now a kingdom wide star, sang a love song for the newlyweds. Helena was immersed into the sound. She felt excitement rise in her chest and she knew, she wanted to join the dance. 

Helena turned towards her husband and a her lips formed a beautiful smile. 

“Would you like to dance mi amor?” She asked in a sweet tone. 

“I’m good,” Nozel answered flatly and focused on the roast duck, that was in front of him, completely not noticing an annoyed expression on his wife’s face. He had to not realise, that she was just asking out of courtesy. 

Helena furrowed her brows and huffed. 

“Are you suuure?” She elongated the word and made Nozel look up. His eyebrows raised and lilac eyes were questioning. 

“I want to finish this dish,” he said. “You know it’s my favorite.”

Yes Helena was aware, but she wished to be selfish and dance now.

“Papa helps me eat,” Natalia crinkled her tiny nose and now that it was two against one Helena knew she lost. Daddy’s girl was taking his side, since her youngest years. 

“I would like to dance with you mama,” Heinry jumped of his seat and approached her. He respectfully bowed down and then reached his hand towards her. The little prince, that he was, knew all the required etiquette and was pristine with his manners. Lilac eyes flashed confidently and Helena chuckled softly reaching out to her son. 

“At least someone knows how to be a gentleman,” she grinned at her husband, who just rolled his eyes affectionately, before once again swooping in to save Natalia’s dress. “What if you just feed her?” Helena added. 

“I can… myself,” Natalia found the right word and furrowed her brows, while gripping harder onto the fork, that she was holding. She was a smart three year old and certainly a feisty one. Wonder where she got that from?

“You heard our hija,” Nozel proudly gazed at his daughter.

Helena could not help the fond expression, that appeared on her face. Nozel was a great dad, despite his countless worries, that he was going to be an awful one, like his own father was. However both of them pushed through, they made mistakes, they learned from them and they did all of this together, supporting one another. Now the three little birdies were growing up in a warm and happy environment, something Nozel’s childhood was lacking after his own mother had passed away. 

Helena was pulled out of her thoughts by Heinry, not so sophistically dragging her towards the dance floor. He was very excited. When the next song began to play, she let her son lead her and even though he would make tiny mistakes, and slip from time to time, Helena knew that he was doing his best and it was all that mattered. 

When Kahono finished singing they moved slightly to the side, but did not leave the dance floor yet. Helena smiled at Heinry and he responded in the same way, flashing his white teeth. ‘That’s my niño,’ she thought.

Suddenly somebody ran up to them and grabbed Helena’s dress hiding behind her. 

“Woah, Noureen!” Helena exclaimed startled. “What are you doing hijo?” 

He poked out his nose, so only the upper part of his face and frantically searching lilac eyes were visible. 

“Tia Noelle wants to dance with me,” he whispered determined. “I’m running away.”

“Yhm,” Helena nodded and furrowed her brows at him. “And you think you will find shelter, while grabbing my dress?”

“Yeees?” Noureen raised his brow and Heinry chuckled, which earned him a poked out tongue from his exactly twenty four minutes younger brother. 

“Hijo,” Helena smiled and pulled his small hands off her dress. She then turned around to face him and knelt down so they would be levelled. Helena reached out her palm and pressed it to her son’s cheek. Noureen nuzzled into it and she smiled, noticing right away how similarly to Nozel he behaved. “It is tia Noelle’s wedding day. She doesn’t want to dance with you to make you miserable, but to share her joy with her nephew,” Helena’s voice was tender. “Consider it a little gift you can give to her. I know you want tia to be happy.”

“I do,” he nodded motivated, “but what if I trip and then ruin her dress?” Noureen asked. “She looks very beautiful, tio Asta just can’t take his eyes of her.”

“My sweet hijo,” Helena looked at him lovingly. “It will be alright. You know how to dance and if you trip, that’s simply it. It will be just fine.”

“Tia won’t get angry?” Noureen blinked his lilac eyes. 

“I don’t think there’s anything, that could ruin her mood today,” Helena winked and tapped his pointy nose. Her son softly giggled. “So go on now. Ask tia Noelle to dance.”

Noureen nodded determined and ran off towards the woman of the night. Helena and Heinry watched them for a minute, before deciding to head back to their table. 

How surprised they were when the only ones present were Cyraleona and Eleonora Vermillon. Their parents and their brother were gone mingling, or dancing, while Nozel and Natalia were nowhere to be found. 

Helena furrowed her brows. Where could these two had gone off to? 

“Maybe papa did not manage to save Natalia’s dress and they went to change?” Heinry said out loud.

“Probably,” Helena nodded and looked at him. “Since they’re not here would you like to dance again?”

“Mama,” he groaned annoyed. “You know I have to ask you that. I’m practicing being a gentleman.”

“You already are one,” Helena chuckled, but let Heinry ask her again. Court etiquette practice was always welcomed, while being raised in a Royal family. 

However as they moved towards the dance floor and then began swaying to yet another waltz, something drew Helena’s attention. Between the swirling dresses and moving legs, Helena noticed a familiar glint of silver. She guided Heinry towards it, walking past a pair, who Helena recognised as Josele and Nacht Faust, and then abruptly stopped, because her heart could not take the emotion, that it was experiencing. 

Helena smiled and watched the view in front of her, while the warm feeling inside of her chest bubbled joyfully. 

Just a few meters away Nozel and Natalia were dancing. However since their daughter was so small he had to lean down towards her in order to support her. Natalia’s movements were clumsy and she did not know the steps, so Nozel let her step on his feet, and with each move of his, she had no other choice but follow. Two dark orbs were staring and trying to analyse the dance, while brows furrowed determined. Silver hair beautifully framed her plump cheeks as she pouted. Her lilac dress, surprisingly without any stains on it, fluttered behind her. 

Nozel was smiling, softly, because this was his way and Helena knew, that it was the most genuine expression, that he could have. His gaze was filled with love as he guided his little girl and lilac eyes were watching, taking in her view. Nozel looked amazing himself and Helena could proudly admit, that to her taste, he was the most handsome man at the party. He wore a blue, long sleeved blazer with sophisticated golden accents and a white jabot, but it started lower on his neck, beneath the part, where his golden collar used to be. A Silva cross was attached to the jabot at the centre beneath the soft feathery neckline. The vest underneath the blazer was white and his pants were pressed pleat, like those his sons wore. Silver hair was styled in the eagle like pushed back and up hairstyle and the strands at the front were braided. However it was just this official occasion. Everyday he would have them loose, because he no longer needed the reminder of his past. He would clasp the blue Silva pendant only on occasions, such as this one, which required the ‘Nozel Silva’ look. 

He had to feel her stare, because Nozel looked up at her and Helena’s heart beat faster. She smiled genuinely and felt a soft blush spread over her cheeks. How she loved him and the family they had created. 

“Natalia really can’t dance,” Heinry commented and pulled Helena out of her thoughts. 

“Oh shush. They’re doing amazing,” she quieted him, but her tone was fond. 

They came back to the dance themselves, but then Heinry grinned at her. 

“What if we do a switch?” He asked. “I can teach Natalia a little bit and you would dance with papa?”

“Heinry,” Helena chuckled. “Do you think I need a wingman to dance with my own husband?” 

“Well mama,” he shrugged. “You kind of failed earlier.”

“I won’t this time,” she deflected.

When the song ended they approached Nozel and Natalia. Helena smiled fondly and swept her gaze over them. Just as she was about to speak up and ask her husband to dance, Natalia reached out her little arm and grabbed onto his palm, pulling him down towards herself. Her fingers looked so small compared to his. She leaned in and whispered something to his ear. 

Nozel slowly closed his eyes and then delicately nodded, before ruffling her hair. Natalia squeaked excited and let him stand up. 

“May I have this dance Helena?” Nozel reached out his hand toward her.

She gracefully took it and let him lead her just few steps away from their children. They did not want to loose sight of them, especially the three year old in this filled with people ballroom. So only when Heinry and Natalia began to dance, the gazes of their parents went towards one another. 

“Keeping secrets from me again mi amor?” Helena playfully quirked her brow as Nozel pulled her closer and began leading her to the music. 

“Would you like me to spill them?” He asked flatly and when Helena nodded, he shook his head. “I can’t violate the sacred father-daughter trust.”

Helena pouted. 

“So I’m going to be left in the dark, when it comes to your whispers?” She fluttered her lashes. 

“Maybe,” Nozel stated. “Although I suppose you will get it out of Natalia after making her surrender in a tickle war.”

“I am the best at tickle wars,” Helena laughed. 

“I am aware,” he deadpanned and just to tease him Helena moved forwards. “Don’t you dare,” he furrowed his brows and it made her chuckle even more. 

“Oh you know I wouldn’t do anything, while we’re in public. Nobody will know the tricks that señora Silva has up her sleeve,” Helena winked.

“They don’t acknowledge how much of a devil you are with these,” Nozel stated in a serious tone. 

“No captain,” she corrected him and her tone changed to seductive. “I’m a devil in some other settings, only known to you,” she purred. 

“Helena,” he hissed, but could not hide the gentle, fond expression on his face. 

“I love you,” Helena grinned and Nozel just rolled his eyes. 

“I love you too,” he gazed at her deeply, “but you are annoying.”

“And I will gladly annoy you for the rest of our days,” she said. 

“Keep your promise.”

The song ended and Helena very reluctantly pulled away from Nozel. Two of their kids were nearby and she noticed further away Noureen bowing to Noelle, before she took her new husband’s hand. Asta’s green eyes were focused on her this entire time and seemed very excited to dance with his gorgeous bride.

“After the next song you should ask Noelle to dance with you,” Helena inquired. 

“I will,” Nozel nodded and looked at his sister proudly. “She’s come so far and became very strong. I am happy for her.”

“Oi watch out,” Helena grinned and he quirked his silver brows at her. “Your caring side is showing so much today, that some may even think the real Nozel Silva has been kidnapped.”

He narrowed his eyes. 

“You actually think you’re funny?” Nozel asked irritated. 

“And that’s how I know you’re my husband,” she giggled. 

Soon the song ended and Nozel was about to go ask Noelle to dance, while Helena and their children would head to the table. However at the last second Nozel stopped her and looked her in the eyes. 

“I love you Helena and you look beautiful this evening, just like you do everyday,” he said and it caught her by surprise how out of the blue it was. Despite being married for years, she flushed and her heart picked up its pace. “Save me the next dance, because I want to show off to everyone my amazing wife.”

[sasha-psychedelia]

The Provably Worst Gun for Home Defense

What is provably the WORST gun for home defense? A .22 single shot rifle is at least small and quick to point. A Barrett M82 is at least going to instantly stop whatever it hits. Even a good old fashioned musket is going to do good damage and won't hurt your ears. No, I wanted to know what the undisputable worst home defense gun in the world is; and I have found it.

This is the .950 JDJ Fat Mac. It is a 100 pound, 5 foot long rifle that shoots a one pound solid brass bullet at 2200 FPS. It is a non-NFA item only because the ATF gave it a sporting exemption as a joke as if anybody is going to hunt with this. This round would be overkill for hunting blue whales.

I would like to paint a picture for you. It's 2AM and you hear a window break in your living room. This is the worst day this could happen, as every single one of your guns was lost in a tragic boating accident this morning. All were lost except for one. You look across your room in dread at your anti-kaiju rifle. You know what you have to do, but you don't know if you have the strength to do it, both literally and figuratively.

Heaving the rifle into your arms, you load a .950 cartridge and begin to waddle towards the door. Your feet make a loud "thud" as you take each 6" step. You know the intruders hear you. You hope they do, for perhaps they will run and spare the world the suffering that is about to befall it.

You try to set the rifle down, but end up clipping your bedroom door and it is immediately knocked off its hinges by this battering ram in your hands. You attempt to round the corner, bonking the muzzle against the doorframe and adjacent wall across the hall at least 4 times.

To your horror, two invaders stand there at the end of the hall.

With a heavy heart, you raise the rifle to your shoulder while making inhuman grunting noises from the strain of attempting some semblance of a shooting position. The burglars simply stare in disbelief, unable to process the situation they are witnessing, as if in a dream.

You cannot aim the rifle, as the last time you fired the gun, it turned your $3000 Leopuld into a kaleidoscope. You simply hold it at an angle that appears correct and fire.

You are immediately knocked to the floor as if hit by a semi truck going 20 MPH. The shot connected with one of the criminals and it erased him from existence. Even the memories of him have been destroyed and you're wondering why you just shot into an empty hallway. The shot continues to travel through at least 4 houses, a car, and a 10 ton boulder before lodging itself 20 feet into a nearby hill, never to be seen again.

It is at this point, you realize you cannot hear.

The surviving burglar can't hear either but he's also on fire from the muzzle blast and is currently vacating your home. You don't care. Your shoulder is dislocated and there is a hole in your brand new AR500 refrigerator.

You're crying now.

The police arrive and, upon seeing the scene, start laughing. You start crying harder.

[flutekid]

.

[nikkento-writes]

Rub You the Right Way - Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2

Pairing: Choso x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Word Count: ~3.0k

cw: female reader, 2nd-person POV, explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut – cunnilingus, use of sex toys, cum eating, PIV sex (missionary), breeding and pregnancy kink

Summary: You and Choso are next-door neighbors who are very much smitten with one another. After a month of dirtying up third base as much as possible, the both of you are finally ready to hit it out of the park. 

Author’s Notes: Baseball euphemisms because why not LOL? Thank you for reading! I love these dorks so much! This is the final installment of this teeny tiny series, so thank you all so much for the love and support on this, it means the world to me! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are not expected but always appreciated. Thanks for reading! Divider credit to @/fic-dumpster.

“Damn, that was good!” Yuji exclaims, licking off the last of the chicken katsu curry from the rim of the bowl. He leans back on one hand, rubbing his belly with the other, a loud belch escaping his mouth. “Oops, sorry,” he apologizes, only a little bit embarrassed.

You giggle, stacking his empty dish on top of the others, standing up to place it in the sink. “I’m so glad you liked it. I couldn’t have done it without your brother, though. He’s a really good teacher.” 

“See, I told you, didn’t I?” Yuji smirks, pleased with himself. 

“It’s not hard to make, especially with the boxed curry mix.” Choso’s voice is bashful, downplaying the praise from both you and his brother. Still, you can sense the tiniest hint of pride in there.

“He’s too modest.” You return to the table to sit next to him, nudging him playfully.

Yuji rolls his eyes. “I know! It’s so frustrating! Seriously, you’ve got to give yourself more credit, bro. You’re awesome.” The blush on Choso’s cheeks are adorably obvious now as he continues to wave off the compliments. 

“Yeah, you really are,” you reiterate, resting your hand on top of his thigh, squeezing him gently. With the table obscuring his view, Yuji can’t see this small gesture, nor does he notice the subtle way Choso reacts, flustered and slightly aroused. He’s been wanting to touch you all night, but not in front of his precious baby brother, who remains clueless to the extent of your relationship. Before you can pull away completely, not wanting to rattle him any further, he hooks his pinky with yours, his grip unyielding. You smile to yourself, the two of you linked together while you chat with Yuji about your plans the rest of the night, which consists of Choso teaching you how to make a lovely castella cake, amongst other not-so-innocent activities. For the sake of Yuji’s virtue, you decide to leave that part out. 

It's been over a month now that you and Choso started your relationship after that unfortunate package mix-up, which ended up not being unfortunate at all. By total accident, you unboxed his brand spanking new Cock Sucker 3000, and in a bizarre attempt to alleviate any awkwardness from the situation, you proceeded to use your own sex toy in front of him while he demonstrated his, resulting in the hottest night of your life. Two days following that, after another ridiculous misunderstanding, the both of you realized your feelings for one another and decided to give this a shot. 

You’ve learned so much about him, most importantly that he’s quite the fragile soul, often distrusting of strangers right off the bat. The last thing you want is for him to lose his trust in you, so taking it day-by-day, little-by-little, is what works the best for the both of you. The two of you have remained on third base when it comes to sex, which you’re not complaining about one bit, considering how voracious you’ve been with each other. You’re waiting for the right time to finally hit that home run, a grand slam at this rate. It could happen tonight, tomorrow, maybe even a few more months from now. All you know for certain is that you’re happy with Choso, and he’s happy with you. That’s all that matters.

However, you’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t fantasizing about it already. You can’t help yourself when you’re with him. In front of others, he’s usually more reserved, timid. Alone with you, his confidence unveils. His touches are assured all over your body, an expert at all the big and little ways to make you moan in pleasure. The range of expressions he’s willing to show you, from unabashedly needy to absolutely feral, make your body tingle just thinking about it. And that voice, sweet and soft when he’s coaxing you, then to that sexy, gruffy tone as he ravishes you, whether it’s with his fingers, his mouth, his firm grip on the vibrator. It’s no shock that you’ve imagined the perfect way he’d slide into you, filling you up to the brim with his massive cock. Hell, you’ve admitted it to each other several times already, how badly you both want it, how good it’d feel to be bounded together as one. You keep reminding yourself to be patient, because when it does happen, it will be well worth the wait. 

The three of you hang out a while longer until Yuji announces that he’s leaving to get ready for a party with his friends. Choso gives his brother a big hug, handing him a small bag of leftovers to take with him back to his university apartment. “Don’t party too hard this weekend,” he warns him sternly, sounding like a protective parent. “Behave yourself. Don’t make Fushiguro take care of you and Kugisaki again.” 

Yuji beams at him. “Megumi likes taking care of us! That’s his idea of fun!” He looks at you, a mischievous grin on his face. “You two behave yourselves too, alright? Don’t forget to use protection.” 

Shit. Okay, so maybe he does know.

Choso stiffens, an uncomfortable noise gurgling in his throat, clearly stunned by Yuji’s remark. You let out a loud and nervous laugh, desperately trying to play it cool, though you two idiots couldn’t make this any more obvious. “We’re just making castella cake, remember? We’re not having sex at all! Just some good clean fun here, nothing naughty! Right, Choso?” You’re so frazzled that you accidentally kick your boyfriend a tad too hard in the ankle, enough for him to yelp. “Right, Choso?!”

Sweat beads on your forehead while he bumbles incoherently now, failing to his explain your bizarre reactions to his younger brother, who just stands there, very pleased with himself. “Oh, I meant oven mitts,” Yuji smiles innocently, completely unfazed. “You know, for your hands.” He turns on his heel to see himself out while Choso continues to gape at him. “See you two lovebirds next week!” he calls out from over his shoulder, waving until he’s out of sight.

Choso unclenches to close the door while you bury your face in your palms, ashamed of yourself. “I can’t believe I just did that.”

He surrounds you in his sweet embrace, relaxed and actually laughing. “At least you said something. I just stood there like an idiot.”

You peer up at him, pouting at him. “You’re not an idiot, take it back.”

“I take it back,” he relents, giving you a kiss on the forehead. 

Nuzzling your nose to his, you mention, “I guess that was our way of telling him, right?”

“I had a hunch he already knew,” he responds. “Yuji’s no dummy. He was already telling me stuff a few weeks ago.”

“What did he say?”

“Well, he was the one who told me to be friends with you. He’s even the one who first suggested inviting you to our family dinners.”

Your heart swells in your chest. “Really?”

He nods, a kind smile on his face. “Yeah. Yuji is a sweet kid, so I figured he was just being polite. But maybe he sees you and me being…y’know.”  

You smirk, giddy to hear the rest of his sentence. “What?”

His voice is quiet, shy from the sudden vulnerability he’s displaying. “A good fit? I don’t know, what do you think?” Despite all that’s happened between the two of you within a month, Choso still has his doubts, his insecurities. The last relationship he had ended because he caught his ex cheating. From then on, he’s been reluctant to let his guard down and trust someone with his heart again. You don’t blame him for being so cautious when it comes to love, so you do everything in your power to validate his emotions, reassure him that you care for him just as much as he cares for you. 

You hold him close, your heart thumping at a rapid pace. “I think we’re a perfect fit.” 

He swallows down whatever nerves were tightening in his throat, relieved to hear you say it, even though he’s never doubted your true intentions. Hearing it in your voice, seeing it in your kind eyes gives him the strength to tear down all the walls he’s built around himself to let you in. Inching closer, voice still quiet, he asks, “Can we…?”

You don’t let him finish his thought as you lean forward to press your lips to his. His arms squeeze you in a tighter embrace, nearly lifting you off your feet as he kisses you passionately. Your mouths move seamlessly together, his hands gliding smoothly along your waist, yours gently caressing his face, proving that the two of you are the perfect fit indeed. There’s dishes in the sink waiting to be washed, a castella cake waiting to be baked, but who are you kidding? This is what you need right now, to have Choso’s body on yours, to taste him, to devour him, completely lose yourself in him. And that’s exactly what he needs too. 

The two of you make your way inside his bedroom, not letting the other go for even a second, kisses sloppy now, all tongue and spit. He’s quick to undress you, palms moving evenly beneath your blouse. You stretch your arms up, letting him remove it completely, his eyes fixated on your breasts, still covered by your bra. He squeezes at them, his grip firm, thumbs brushing across your nipples. Desperate to feel him without this extra layer of clothing, you turn around, wanting him to unhook the clasp, which he does. His lips graze you, peppering soft kisses along your shoulder while he pinches at your nipples with the perfect amount of pressure to have you moaning. “You love it when I play with your tits like this,” he whispers, mouth hot on your ear. It isn’t a question; he says it with confidence, bordering on cockiness with the way he smirks at every little whine that escapes you. You love this switch from shy and sweet to bold and unashamed, always eager to fulfill his sexual appetite for you. 

“I do,” you answer breathlessly, his cock hard and throbbing between your ass cheeks as you grind against him. “You know I do, baby.”

“Fuck, I love it when you call me that,” he groans, sucking on your ear lobe. One hand travels past your navel, tugging at your waistband. 

Your crane your neck to meet his lips. “You’re my baby. You’re all mine, Choso.”

He moans into your mouth, lapping at your tongue. “Yeah, I’m yours. I’m all yours.”

You slide out of your pants, leaving your panties on, the silk ones he adores on you. On the bed, you lie on your back, watching him strip the rest of his clothes off while he towers over you, licking his lips when he positions in his head between your spread legs. He’s been indulging in this recently, eating you out through your panties, getting them soaking wet with his spit and your slick. His gaze meets yours, those typically kind eyes hiding something feral brewing inside him. He’s masterful with his tongue, spreading it wide on your clit, puckering his lips around you until you’re squirming. You grab hold of his head, grasping strands of his soft hair as he devours you. 

As if this wasn’t enough for him, he hums into your skin, pointing at the bedside drawer. He doesn’t have to say it; you already know what he wants. You’ve made it a habit now to keep a few of your sex toys at his place, including your most favorite vibrator, the same exact one you demonstrated for him when all of this first started. It soon became his favorite too. You pass it to him shakily, already at the edge, ready to burst any second. He takes it, holding the tip to your covered clit, the fabric properly drenched now. The vibrations start instantly as he pushes the button, causing you to jolt from the sensation. “Fuck!” you cry out, toes curling, knees wobbly. “Please, Choso.”

“Please what?” he teases, stroking his cock with his free fist. 

“Please take them off,” you beg, writhing below him.

He smiles wickedly, hooking the waistband of your underwear, slowly peeling them off you. “That’s my good girl.”

You kick them off frantically, immediately spreading yourself for him once more. “Hurry, baby,” you whine. 

With the vibe still buzzing in his hand, he leans down, giving you a wet smooch on your clit, then presses the fluttering tip to it. Pleasure radiates from your core to every limb of your body and you eventually reach your first climax of the night. 

“God, I love how fucking wet you get,” Choso moans, licking up and down your slit, savoring your orgasm. “So fucking sexy. Makes me want to come.” Precum leaks from the tip of his dick as he jerks himself faster, lips coated in your arousal as he continues to use the toy on you while drinking every drop of you up. 

“Fuck, you’re going to make me come again,” you say, trying to catch your breath. It’s both too much and not enough. The vibrations are relentless on your clit, his tongue hot and wet on your pussy. You’re drunk off this, head light as air, vision getting hazy. Drool spills from one side of your lips, losing control of your composure as you succumb to yet another orgasm, this time, with two of his fingers inside you. 

“So greedy,” he grins, his cock stiff against his abdomen. He takes his digits out of you, spreading your cum on his shaft. “You want more, sweetheart?”

You reach for his cock, desperate to have him fully inside you. “I want all of you.”

His demeanor changes at this, almost like you’ve said the magic words. He swallows nervously, stopping the toy and setting it aside. “Are you serious?”

You smile, nodding at him. “I want all of you, Choso. But if you’re not ready – ”

“I’m ready.” It stumbles out of his mouth in a rush, as if he’s been meaning to say it for a while now. “I want you. I always want you.”

“You have me.” You tug him towards you, wrapping your arms and legs around him, nuzzling your nose to his. “You’ll always have me.” 

He kisses you, humming softly against your lips. “You’re amazing,” he whispers, tapping the tip of his dick on your swollen clit. 

You twitch at his touch, already sensitive from earlier, but still so needy to be filled by him. “Hurry,” you beg him, gyrating your hips, losing your patience. 

“Condom,” he mutters, reaching towards your nightstand, eyes focused on how close his cock is to being inside you. 

You snap yourself out of whatever dangerous desires are playing through your head and nod in agreement, stretching your arm out to open the drawer, blindly retrieving the box of condom wrappers and small bottle of lube. With trembling fingers, he unwraps the condom, rolling it over his cock, coating a generous amount of lube on it. He eases inside you, both of you moaning as you stretch around him perfectly. When he’s to the hilt, he stays still for a moment, kissing you fervently, so happy to finally be connected with you like this. “Is this good?” he asks, always adorably concerned about you. 

You giggle, hugging him tighter. “It’s amazing baby.”

Reassured, he starts thrusting, pulling out ever-so-slightly to pound right back inside you. You squeeze every inch of him as he fucks you deeper, fighting the urge to come on the spot. It’s so damn good, too fucking good, like he’s on this euphoric high, impossible to come down. He can’t believe how incredible this feels, even with the condom on, and it makes him want to burst thinking about the near future when he’ll have a chance to do you without it. How pretty you’d look with his cum spilling out you. That fucked-out expression on your face as you beg him to breed you. The gorgeous belly when you’re pregnant with his baby...

Choso has to physically shake his head to rid these obscene fantasies from his thoughts. He really can’t help himself when he’s with you. Grunting with each thrust, he resists the temptation to pull this condom off to give it to you raw, reminding himself that patience is a virtue and that the two of you have all the time in the world.

It doesn’t take long for the both of you to come. As soon as you’re right at the edge of your third climax of the night, you cry out, “Right there, baby! Fuck me right there!” holding him tight as you spill all over his cock. He comes as soon as you finish, certain that if you weren’t using protection and assuming you’re currently ovulating, he’d surely get you pregnant with how fucking intense this load was. Choso pulls out, carefully pulling off the condom, taking a couple of seconds to marvel at all the cum you managed to draw out of him. You laugh, watching him as he ties the open end to toss into the nearby trash bin. “Is it a lot?”

He snuggles up next to you, nuzzling his nose to your neck, back to his precious puppy-dog cuteness. “If we weren’t using protection, it would have definitely gotten you pregnant.”

You joke, “And is that a bad thing?”

He rests a hand on your stomach, his touch tender and sweet. “Not at all. I wouldn’t mind raising a little baby with you.”

Normally, you’d freak out. Normally, Choso would freak out. But for some odd reason, the idea of sharing a future together, of raising a family together, seems right. And while it’s only been a month, you’re both confident that the two of you will be spending a long, healthy, loving life with each other. 

Choso’s phone vibrates on the nightstand, rousing the two of your from your post-coital snuggle session. When he reads whatever notification he’s received, he chuckles, turning the screen towards you, displaying a text message from Yuji:

So…how’s that castella cake? ;)

He types up a quick reply before putting his phone on silent to spend the rest of the night cuddling you uninterrupted. 

Absolutely perfect.

[tgcg]

listen here on youtube

so first of all thanks for 3,000 followers. holy shit. thats 3000 more than i expected so thanks

i really didnt think this blog would get to this point when i made it. and im never gonna get over how kind and encouraging you guys have been for me. unending respect & gratitude guys.

we're closin in on the end of 2023 now and im resolving to keep doing right by you guys and having fun running this blog with yall 🙂 thanks forever

i wanted to do somethin special for it and i thought id share one of my biggest inspirations for interpretin davekat. which is music i think they'd like. when you routinely blast davekat doodles onto mspaint canvases at 2am you need a backing track and these are common choices for me

3 songs for each dude for 3k fwlrs. man thats crazy...

tracklist + lil commentary under readmore

dave zone

1... 21st century pop song -- hymie's basement

this whole album i associate with dave a lot even tho its very depresse mode. i have way too many plays on this song. that beat is so real.

2... vice principal -- why?

that record scratch bit got me bouncing&trouncing manm. ive been listening to this song since i was a lil shitty kid. this voice is my headcanon voice for dave

3... re-do -- modern baseball

get a load of them lyrics son. passage of time, dinosaurs, trouble sleeping, watching movies, fear of death, love of life. recent fave, big fave.

KARKAT ZONE

4... i see failure -- antarctigo vespucci

another new beat 4 me but damn its an anthem. love dudes who shout. self fulfilling prophecies of relationship failure are peak karkat 2 me

5... the minors -- kawai sprite

i have never played friday night funky. i found this album by pure fuckin chance and its great, if you like this song give it a shot. sounds adult swim-y. i associate a lot of songs from this album with kk its a very distinct sound that i just connect with him fsr. the bittersweet sad anger of it

6... exactly where i'm at -- ween

this is a certified karkat classic 4 me. "look at yourself your lips are like 2 flabs of fat, they go front and back and flappity flappity flap". one of my fave things about ween is they have really vivid lyrics and rlly consistently hit this cool spacey, semi-aquatic vibe. i think this is because of drugs that they are awesome, so lets all do more druggs today

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐚𝐥𝐥-𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬.

main masterlist

pairing(s) — bull-rider!MATTHEW TKACHUK x barrel racer!hughes!reader (can be read as an unnamed oc) wc — 1.8k synopsis — wear the hat, ride the cowboy—even if it might get you disowned.

note — there's one line referring to the reader as jack's twin, but no physical description is given. also, this one-shot is a "party favor" from our feb slumber party

specific content warnings under the cut.

cw — quinn being a dramatic, misogynistic douche-canoe 3000 for the entirety (ratty matty has his moments, too), no actual smut but it's heavily implied they do the dirty on the reg, a disgustingly intimate situationship — ick, off-color comment(s) relating to first times and the concept of virginity, lots and lots of familial angst (jack is a snake), oh! and more than a few loose ends... but you know the drill by now, i'm incapable of keeping a story contained

“Go on, Palomino Princess. Ride me like one of your ponies.” 

Condescension drips from the lazy taunt. Matthew earns a palm to the chest for it; her ire lands with a faint thud, but he doesn’t mind. He gets off on riling her up, and after two years of backseat meetings and hushed phone calls, he’s damn good at it too. That, and she might be the most reactive person he’s ever met—and that’s saying something. 

Matthew’s been going head-to-head with all three of her brothers for over a decade, and he’s known their family for even longer. Having a short fuse must be genetic.    

“Y’won’t break me if that’s the hold-up. S’gonna take a hell of a lot more than a dry humpin’ buckle bunny to put me outta commission, sweetheart.” 

He knows damn well she ain’t anywhere close to the derogatory term, but he likes what the complete disregard for her accomplishments does to her deceptively cherubic face. 

It may look less harrowing than every other event on the card, but barrel racing ain’t for the faint-hearted. The event is a death wish personified, and it feels about as good as someone taking a metal pipe to both shins. It takes balls—metaphorically, in her case—to charge into an arena on an American Quarter horse with the intention of guiding it through a cloverleaf pattern around three barrels while sprinting at top speed, but it takes dedication and skill to succeed the way she has. The winner is determined by just thousandths of a second. 

The woman perched on his tailgate is unmatched—undefeated.  

Flames of pride lap at his loins, the fire of desire stoked by the wicked roll of her hips. 

“Ohh—shit!” Matthew hisses, his head lolling back as his hips buck into her heat. 

She smirks, apparently vindictive as ever. “How’s that, cowboy? Everything you dreamed?” 

“And more,” he growls as he grabs a fistful of her backside. 

His grip is tighter than it needs to be as he switches positions. Not nearly as rough as she would prefer it; beggars can’t be choosers.  

Matthew steps between her knees, and, despite herself, she shivers with anticipation. Chuckling, amusement twinkles in his baby blues. “Now give me a kiss, sweetheart. My lips are feelin’ a little lonely tonight, and you happen to be wearin’ my hat, Little Miss.” 

He flicks the brim of his hat. She catches it before it hits the ground before plopping it back on the rightful owner, the damage already done.  

“You just love that antiquated rule,” she shakes her head while most definitely laughing at his expense. “Y’wouldn’t see any action without it, now would you?” 

Matthew grins. Trading insults is his favorite form of foreplay. “Neither would you. Isn’t that your signature move, outlaw?”

“I should kick you to the back of the line with that attitude. Hell, I’d probably be better off keeping you at a distance anyway.” 

“Keep mouthin’ off and see how far it gets ya. Definitely nowhere near that McMansion castle you call home, that’s for sure.” 

“Oh, don’t you worry ‘bout me, sugar. I’ve got plenty of options if I need a ride home.” 

“I’ll bet, show pony. Sexiest can chaser east of the Mississippi; who wouldn’t be chomping at the bit to carry Cinderella home to her Daddy?” 

Men have a habit of gawking at her; Matthew has a habit of relieving them of their teeth. 

He leans in to taunt her ear with greedy lips and barbed arrogance. “Best of luck finding one that’ll fuck you better than me.”     

“Do you think about other guys fucking me often?” she fires without missing a beat.

More than he would like, actually.

With a heavy, drawn-out sigh, he runs a hand over his face. His patience is running thin, and his jeans are starting to chafe. Exasperated, he tries coaxing her to reason, “Sweetheart, c’mon. We both know you want this—want me. Stop makin’ this so damn hard.” 

“Why? Because you already are?” 

Matthew makes an exaggerated show of play-biting her scrunched-up nose. 

“Woman, you drive me insane.”

“It’s why you’re so obses—“ 

Her teasing is thwarted by the sound of her own name. Spat out of her older brother’s mouth like a heirloom gone sour, it's no great surprise Quinn looks at her like he can’t recognize her. Like a stranger—like a traitor. 

Guilt, thin and fleeting, pieces the tenderness between her ribs. 

She squirms, attempting to put some distance between them as if that could erase the discovery—and her culpability—from his mind. Matthew and his shit-eating grin keep her from getting too far but don’t be fooled. This is no chivalrous encouragement to stand her ground. It’s got nothing to do with her and everything to do with her brother. 

Quinn rages outside the hauler housing Matthew’s precious 3500 Laramie. Walking by, seeing the main trailer hitched Brady’s F-350 made his stomach churn. It didn’t sit right, and now he knew why. 

“You can’t be serious! Nuh-uh, no—no fucking way. Get out here before I drag you out myself.”  

At his tone, what little remorse she felt dissipates. They were both far too old for his tired, overbearing song-and-dance. 

“Who died and made you king?” 

Quinn, blinded by overripe anger, sweeps over the irritation, twisting her tongue and the disbelief arching her brow. “I thought I made myself clear last time. Don’t make me repeat myself.” 

“Oh, crystal, Quinny.” Matthew snorts at the juvenile nickname but is swiftly cajoled into silence with a pinch to the side. “Message received.” 

“Then quit screwin’ around and get your ass back to the truck before Dad blows a gasket. He’s been lookin’ all over for you. So, you best be thanking your lucky stars I got here first. That its me catchin’ you red-handed colluding with the enemy.” 

He’s so serious, nearly shaking with rage, it’s difficult not to laugh. She can count on one hand the instances wherein her brother became visibly angry—all of them involving the man standing between her dangling feet. She fares better than him, but that’s to be expected. Unlike her accomplice, for her, there’s real risk involved. 

“Just ‘cause I heard you don’t mean I have to listen.” 

Lips pressed to her temple, Matthew clicks his tongue in approval. ‘Bout damn time she started giving back what Quinn so readily dishes out. 

“Look, y’can spread your legs for anyone with big dreams and a buckle some other night. Parade around the circuit acting like a slut, see if I give a shit. But not tonight. And not with him.” 

The knowing glint in Quinn’s blackened eyes is telling, but it isn’t as menacing as he thinks it is. The Hughes heir apparent couldn’t be judge, jury, and executioner. He doesn’t have a lick of proof. Just suspicion and a personal vendetta the size of Texas. 

A safety net swaying below, Matthew decides to have a little fun. “Whoa, settle down, Trust Fund. Y’can’t talk to a lady like that, ‘specially not your sister.” 

He’s no white knight, but he can pretend. 

And isn’t that what you’re all doing? Pretending to be people you aren’t. Acting out your roles, putting on a show. After all, a performance will always be more entertaining than the truth. 

“—and here I thought etiquette classes were a Rodeo Royalty rite of passage. Glad t’know she ain’t the only roughneck hellion in your family tree, Huggy.” 

Quinn’s jaw tightens. His tongue threatens to put a hole through his cheek. Hands on his hips, the eldest sibling only nods. He ignores Matthew entirely. 

“Real winner y’got there. A class act. You really know how to pick ‘em—cream of the goddamn crop. Say, what’re you gonna do when he inevitably gets bored of you? When he gets his hands on a fresh doe-eyed virgin to tarnish?” 

After she finishes with Matthew, she’s kicking Jack’s sorry ass. 

Those anxieties—and that majorly personal tidbit of information—were shared in confidence. Because unlike her older brother, she trusted her twin. Well, she used to, at least. Luke’ll be over the moon at the chance to be her favorite. 

She bares her teeth like a scorned lapdog. “We’re not kids anymore, Q. You can’t push me around whenever you want or tell me what to do like you’re my father. And you sure as shit can’t bully me into submission, either. Give it up, or get lost.” 

“Whatever,” Quinn barks as he backs away from the trailer. “Your fuckin’ funeral.” 

Listening to the fading sound of her brother’s Ariats pounding through the dirt, she buries her face in the warm, familiar crook of Matthew’s neck; she needs a moment alone. He seems to understand this, his mouth zipped shut as he runs calloused hands up and down her sides. She’s breathing heavily, but he does her the simple mercy of leaving it be. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was growing on you,” Matthew hums, a low-maintenance attempt to lighten the mood. 

They don’t do the touchy-feely BS. It’s one of the things that reeled him in—and kept him coming back. 

“But you do.” She pulls away to look up at him, chin resting on his sternum. He hates that her melancholic eyes are red-rimmed. “—and stop thinking, it doesn’t suit you.” 

“And what does, princess? I’m dyin’ for your insight.” 

“Shut the door and I’ll show you.” 

He blinks, taken aback. Who is this brazen tart, and when did she take your place? Matthew wonders to himself. Maybe he is the bad influence everyone paints him as… He hasn’t really thought about it until now, and it's troubling the way it makes his chest tighten. 

Matthew clears his throat—and, from his mind, the distressing notion that he’s ruined someone good with his carelessness—as he leans over. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

He pulls the hauler’s heavy metal door shut with clamorous finality.  

Matthew Tkachuk might be the most self-serving swindler on dirt, but Quinn Hughes is just another name on his list. A box to tick and then forget. He wouldn’t lose sleep, it wasn’t like their friendship meant a damn thing. Not anymore. A friend turned foe, reduced to another obstacle in his way, a hurdle to jump. 

Tonight, his sister’s fealty; tomorrow, his title.

Retribution is at his fingertips, so close he can taste it. Yet, it would seem that Matthew merely traded one hornet’s nest for another. 

At least this one’s easy on the eyes. 

⤑ to my inbox💌

⬸ back to the catalog  (writing masterlist) 

⬸ back to the main blog 

All of the stories and fantasies written or discussed on this blog by the owner or by followers are purely fictional and are not intended to offend any parties.

©2024 holy-pucks, all rights reserved. I do not give consent for any of my work to be copied, re-posted, or translated here, on Tumblr, or on any other platform. Reproduction of any content from this blog is considered plagiarism.

[thecameronchronicles]

Mosaic

TW: Toxic!Rafe. Toxic!Reader. Toxic and manipulative relationship. Degrading language. Language. Smut. Choking. Spanking. Anal sex.

SUMMARY: Your decision to try and make Rafe jealous with Topper has crossed a line your boyfriend won't soon forget. 

WORD COUNT: 3000

REQUESTED

Dark!reader and Dark!Rafe being toxic maybe she flirts with Top to make him jealous 

Mosaic

College was supposed to be the time in which you found yourself. But the only thing you managed to find yourself in was a severely toxic relationship with Rafe fucking Cameron. Six months ago, you would have laughed at the girls who gladly surrendered whatever remaining dignity they had just for a chance at one night with him. Hell, one hour. But a few sweet conversations, one nice date, and countless orgasms later, and you became one of those same girls. 

Your heart fell between your thighs and pulsated there with the promise of his focus. However long it would be. And yet it had always begun the same. Some fraternity party with inflamed egos and enough girls at their disposal to make up a parade. And you loathed how watching him flirt with them was always fruitful. Nothing more than his backwards cap and a few compliments and his fingers were already on her hip. His eyes well aware you read this from afar. The tip of his digits you'd kissed not even the night before were now sourcing some girl's pants in the kitchen of his fraternity house. And you hated just how wet it made you. 

But the only thing you were more than wet was angry. Frustrated with how effortless he had women at his disposal. Even if you understood why as he had been given your undeserved forgiveness with those very fingers in the times you'd threatened to leave him. But within seconds, you were purring for him like the bitch you were. Knowing the pain was well worth it for the pleasure. 

"Why the long face-oh…" Top asked as he emerged from the steps you'd leaned against while in disbelief to the sight. 

"So are you guys…together?" You turned to answer Topper before realizing he was nervous. Confident and collected Topper Thornton was not so subtly asking you if you were available. Handsome enough to get a rise out of Rafe, also assisting in the fact he was a fellow fraternity brother, you devised a plan for your boyfriend to understand how sour a taste jealousy was. Because up until now, you never gave him much of a reason to worry. You were swallowed by the effect of Rafe. That intoxicating presence and voice-those fingers, his cock-

"Do you wanna play beer pong?"

"Um…yeah…su-sure…" You smiled at how pliable Topper was for your attention. Able to bend in either direction solely to your will. 

This was going to be fun…

You aligned yourself on the south side of the table, watching as the guys across filled your cups. 

"Did you give us another lightweight, Thornton?"

You cocked a brow, pulling an extra beer from behind you before pouring your own shot of whiskey, consuming it down in a series of gulps. 

"Now you have a chance." Even though you meant this towards your opponents, the side glance offered towards Topper made your intentions known. 

The first ball struck the far left cup, a satisfying pop made as your opponent drank your cup. One would then land in front of Topper as he drank and then missed his own shot. Hits and misses continued as you took small moments once noticing Rafe's eyes were set onto you. That same girl still under his arm, but his interest in her dwindling back to you. 

"Here…" You turned towards Topper, fingers gingerly wrapped around his hand as you brought the ball to your lips, pressing your gloss into the sphere. 

"For good luck…" You seduced the words themselves as he swallowed hard. His eyes plagued to wonder how your lips felt. And not only to his mouth. 

"Yes!" He exclaimed, wrapping you in his arms as you charmed the final ball to win the game. 

"Beginner's luck…"

"She's no beginner…" Rafe interjected from the sidelines, your eyes falling immediately to his expression. Those lustful eyes appreciating your curves hidden poorly beneath a skintight dress. 

"She's a liar…"

"Learned from the best, Cameron." He cocked his jaw as you wrapped your fingers between Topper's. 

"Want to dance?" You asked, pressed against him as his eyes flashed to Rafe, whose jaw was clenched enough to threaten to crack his teeth. But your two fingers to Top's jaw redirected him to you. 

"We both know he couldn't keep up." This was reason enough for Topper to choose you as you led him to the backyard where the dancing was in full effect. Sza playing with bass shaking the floor as you ground into Topper. His hands gluttonous to your hips as you could feel him develop against your tailbone. 

"Hey Top?" 

"Yeah?" He asked as you now faced him, hands over his shoulders and neck as your eyes feigned focus to him as you noted how Rafe was enraged. 

"When are you gonna kiss me?" 

"Now…" He pressed his lips to yours and you were able to forget about Rafe. Long enough to bask in a new set of hands adorning your hips. Even from the first moment with Rafe, he was angered, masking this behind passion. But you knew better. That was lust. Pure. Selfish. And this with Topper was careful desire. It burned the same, but not quite as deep. But it was enough to get your point across. And it wasn't as if you were suffering. 

"Get your fucking hands off my girlfriend-" Rafe charged at Topper as you were forced apart. But you stood between them, hands on both of their chests. 

"Seems to me you don't know how to hold on to her, man-"

"You couldn't handle her. Wouldn't last five seconds with her riding you…from behind, she's fucking greedy…and on her knees…" 

"Don't talk about her like that-" Topper moved to defend you but you couldn't help but feel pride in how Rafe spoke of you. The crowd amassed around you only fueling this fantasy of Rafe defending you. 

"She fucking loves it. Makes her little panties nice and wet…" he spoke at you as you cocked a hip, a hand finding purchase in that new bend. 

"IF she's even wearing any…" He knew you well. Too well. It was as annoying as it was intoxicating. "Better yet, Top. Ask her why. She didn't come here wearing nothing for you to find that out." 

You loathed how he always knew. Your games, he seemed to make the rules. Your rules, he broke them without recourse. And you let him. Just like you always would. 

"You don't own me, Rafe. Made that clear with your knuckles in some other bitch not even half an hour ago." By now, Topper no longer cared to defend you, realizing you did enjoy this. It showed in the way your chest heaved and your lips parted, your eyes widening when they should be narrowing in how he spoke against you. 

"Every part of you is mine. Not an inch that hasn't been touched…" He smirked. "Every. Inch…" You blushed, aware this was the truth. Before him, you were rather inexperienced. A few lovers that were nothing but stepping stones to the Everest he ascended you to. Positions and angles you thought were impossible, sensations that were indescribable. Yet, he brought them to you in every exchange. Even those fueled by hatred and anger. Especially those…

"Speaking of inches…" You held out your hands to show a depiction of his size. Although lying, made it appear as if he was below average. A pity fuck you offered out of guilt and obligation. 

"Not even worth the five minutes…"

"Such a little bitch, not worth the attitude." He looked around at the crowd. "Little warning to anyone who tries to fuck her…she likes it when you choke her a bit from the front but slap her from behind. Might even cry if you say you love her. You don't even have to mean it…" 

This was too far. No amount of dirty words or sultry apologies would fix that. Tears in your eyes and you were marching somewhere in solitude. A door closed just as quickly as it opened again, your body unable to find rest for even a second before your name was sounded before you. The slam shaking the rest of the house. 

"I'm not joking, Rafe, get out!"

"You and I both know that I could have you on your knees…You love being degraded…because you're my little-" he stood over you, a hand to your cheek, believing it would work as it always had. 

But not this time. 

"No! You can fuck with me. You can fuck me, but saying that about love-" he paused, rolling his eyes. 

"You know it's all part of this…we rile each other up-'"

"You think there's only you here? But Topper's fingers felt so good against me-"

"Stop it."

"So you get to touch someone else? But I can't be touched?!" You stood, finger against his chest. 

"You don't like the idea? Someone else fucking me? Their fingers…their mouths? Maybe more than one…you have some hot friends…ones that would treat me better too…last longer-it" He suddenly lunged at you, your face in his hands. 

"You know I love you, but you wanna play games that I'll always win…You want to try to embarrass me and I'll make your ass as red as your cheeks when I have my say-"

"You-" He took hold of your jaw. 

"As far as fucking you…You can try, baby…but we both know you'll be thinking of me. Every depraved way you've come for me…how I can make you just by…" He was teasing your nipples, the thin dress making this possible. 

"Doing this…" 

"Stop it…" You spoke with every attempt to be confident but every one of his motions making this nearly impossible. 

"You're cruel-"

"And hard-" He pushed you towards the back of the bed. 

"You're an asshole."

"And you love me…" 

"Who's more fucked up between us then, baby? Hmm?" By now, his entire hand was over your breast as he pulled the fabric low enough to gain access. 

"But you pull shit like that again and you can go fuck yourself…." 

You clenched your jaw. 

"Fuck me yourself, you coward!" You spat as he pushed you onto the bed. Your dress scrunched at your hips as he pulled you to the edge. Two fingers threatened to enter you as you kicked his hand away. 

"You don't get to touch me after you touched some other bitch." He lowered over you, pinning you down and forcing those fingers inside. Your head pulled back and your lips parted with a wince for how rough he had been as you gasped. 

"I am going to touch you whenever I want. However I want. And you're gonna come for me like you always do. Because you're such a fucking whore for my fingers." He tightened his grip on the back of your head. 

"Let's be honest, baby, you're just a whore for all of me, yeah?" When you didn't respond, he altered his focus. The fingers remained but he released your hair, undressing himself instead. Your eyes opened at the moment he came to view. 

"Stop fucking staring and do something about this…it's your fucking fault…" 

"Why dont you have her do it?" You spat, pulsating for him as he pulled you to the edge. 

"Because she doesn't cry as pretty. Now open that dirty little mouth…" He forced your jaw apart with a thumb between your lips, but you nipped at the pad of his finger. 

"I have no problem finishing in your tight little ass…wouldn't be the first time…" 

"I wanted you to enjoy this…even though you don't fucking deserve it. Because I love you…but your pushing every fucking button. Now open or you don't get to come at all." 

"Slow!" He shot as you took him to the extension of your throat. Your eyes softened to the pleasure read across his face. Such strong features strained because of you. Your tongue. Your throat. Your suction. Every bit making him nearly manic as he guided you as he pleased. Your well-being forgotten and replaced with his selfish need to release. 

"Too much for you baby?" You grunted and took him faster. 

"Slow the fuck down. I'm not coming down your throat. You're gonna convince me you deserve to come. Work for it." His eyes rolled to the way you took him now. Love behind such convictions as a mask for the way you hated him. You hated him with a passion. A passion that pooled between your legs. 

"That's my girl…my dirty girl…" he moaned. 

"Yeah…yeah, just like that…" his dominance faded into consolation of his cruelty. His grip sporadic in strength and fault before he was riding into your sore throat with his need to come. 

"Fuck…" But just as he tightened, the ache deep enough to make him groan as he withdrew from you, you were taken to the bed. Your dress forced from your body as you were set ass first. 

"Lay on your side." 

"I-"

"One fucking word and I'll go fuck her instead. And it will be your fault for not listening. Only have yourself to blame sweetheart." You obliged, out of pure desperation. 

He directed your ass apart, but only to tease your folds with his cock. 

"You're gonna be so fucking sore. And you're gonna thank me for it if you know what's good for you-" He thrust. One single thrust that bottomed out immediately. Your close leg pulled until it tested over his back as the either one craned around his hip. 

"I said you could say a word…but I want you to beg for it. Remind me why I put up with your bullshit…" 

"Rafe!" His hand came around your throat as he bent you against yourself. Your knee against your chest. 

"Fuck!" He grunted before lying behind you, reinserting himself from this angle-or so you thought. 

"Look at it." He guided your head down. "You make me so fucking hard so you're gonna do what's necessary to help me…" He used your thighs to thrust himself between. 

"Play with it…" You cupped your hand over his head, brushing your thumb over the weeping tip. 

"It's crying for you, baby…so fucking sad you think you have a choice to be with someone else…but it's always gonna be my cock you want, yeah?" 

"Rafe-" he choked you again. This time, his hand to your clit in accompaniment. Your leg pulled over his knee as his forearm pinned it in place. 

"Think Topper would know how you need it? Both know he'd try…but he couldn't even get you close…" 

"Rafe…" You mewled, his fingers making you manic. your body tightening as he allowed you the first tremors. That orgasm on reach before he halted. 

"Now me." He thrust into you again, murderous paces making you whimper before he focused on you again. Repeating this process for hours. Long after the final beer downstairs had been consumed as you had been drunk on the depravity of each other. Sweat and ache coexisted between you as he pulled you into a slight fold. Your fingers eating into the mattress were pinned by his just as your hips had been by one of his legs. His cock imprinting his abundance as he spoke a mix of cruel compromise into your ear and neck. A dominant hand visiting your clit and nipple until you were a shaking mess between his muscles. 

"You think you should get to come after your games? You don't fuck with me…you get fucked by me. Only me." He forced your jaw to face him, pushing your hips into the bed as he spoke. 

"I want to hear it. Your mine." When you didn't respond, he hit your ass. Twice. The second time harder than the first as you groaned. 

"Ahhh! Raaaafe!"

"Tell me and you get to come." You knew it was a layered act of submission. It didn't just mean you could come. It meant you forgave him enough to let him. You knew he would follow behind you. You knew he'd tell you it was your fault. You knew it meant a repeat of those tears and that pain. But also this pleasure. This pleasure you couldn't find and didn't twang in anyone else. 

So you granted yourself that self-deprecation. 

"I'm all fucking yours…"

"Yeah? Then come all over the cock that's yours." He set his lips to your ear. 

"Because I can touch someone else…but only you make me come. Only you get my cock. Only you get to hear that I love you." His words were as sweet as expected while you found him pounding his final thrusts into you. 

"I love you…I-" he winced, his grip unapologetically sharp as it bruised your skin and the final snap of his hips granted you that release that brought that undeserved forgiveness yet again. Stars behind your eyes and an ache between your thighs. 

"Now for this ass…" he hit hard as you gasped. 

"Rafe-"

"You thought we were done baby? I thought you were smarter than that." He parted your legs again, only now to lift the head of his cock to that second hole. 

"You still have to pay for your little games." And with one cruel thrust he was inside of you again, pain and pleasure walking hand in hand yet again. 

Every broken piece of Rafe finding your own shattered construction that somehow came together into some beautiful portrait. A picture nobody else understood. But nobody else had to. It was beautiful to you. Beautifully broken. Chaotic. But yours all the same. 

TAGLIST: @hopebaker @drewspisces @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4tangerine @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @jjmaybanksangel@phildunphyisadilf @mashdan0916 @belcalis9503

MASTERLIST

RAFE CAMERON MASTERLIST

2ND RAFE CAMERON MASTERLIST

MARCH MADNESS MASTERLIST

[ghastigiggles]

Hi again! :3 I hope you're still open for drawing Pressure prompts cuz I think I got a few in mind now~

https://www.tumblr.com/ghastigiggles/758820297344417792/i-imagine-if-you-tickle-sebastian-by-the-tail-his?source=share

I really wanna see a part 2 to the above. There's about two different scenarios I thought up for this (you can pick either one). Either A) Audie quickly gauges from Fish Boy's reaction that his tail fin is a lot more sensitive than he might've admitted to it being, and they take full risk opportunity to tease him for it, tickling it more purposely. Or B) Do a reverse version where Seb is curiously examining Audie's features (mainly the thick blubbery skin & flesh around their abdomen) which ends up tickling them a lot~ Accidentally at first but then... ;-)

[ conceeeept ]

I ran out of drawing energy tonight but I genuinely did wanna build on this. Like I warned y'all earlier, this ended up just kind of being an exploratory piece than tickles, but they're still there if you squint.

Never ask me for anything again /nsrs /j

ouroboros

“You’re really pushing your luck.”

“2000 data and,” They pressed, “You can check mine out, too.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Liar.”

“... 3000.”

“2500.”

“Fine. But –”

“You call the shots. Wouldn’t have it any other way!”

So that, long and short, was how Audie ended up seated against the wall behind Sebastian’s tail, practically being crushed by the weight but not seeming to mind too much. Anyone else, and he might’ve actually finished the job – but the Assets were different from the Expendables, and he’d been patient enough until now to know they’d respect a firm no when he’d truly had enough.

Too sweet for their own good – but in this case, he couldn’t truly complain. He’d take their hand gently running across the length of his scales over scalpels and vinyl gloves any day. 

Not that it stopped him, of course. But still.

There was a mutual curiosity he was interested in exploring, at least passively. They’d both been subject to very similar experiments and changes, though the result was certainly wildly different between them. At least they had their legs, he mused somewhat bitterly, though he knew it still came at a cost.

“Your tail must be crazy strong,” They commented, applying a little pressure with the heel of their palm and just missing a knot in the muscle he hadn’t realized was there. He fought to swallow a groan at that, his fins twitching; “You’re built like a brick house under there.”

“It has its uses. Carries all the stock, after all.”

Sebastian turned his gaze upon the scattered straps and belts and supplies on the ground, silently bemoaning the process of re-attaching them all he’d have to go through once Audie’d had their fill. The asset themself giggled softly, giving his tail a gentle pat as they moved downwards.

“It’s cool! Yours is smoother than I thought it would be, too.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah! The way the light hits your scales, I thought it’d be more bumpy.”

He decided to withhold the fact that his scales would stiffen up underwater for now – had to keep some things a mystery, after all – and simply rolled his eyes, leaning a shoulder against the wall nearest to him and watching them with his arms crossed. Admittedly, it was a little endearing how fascinated they seemed to be. 

It was almost enough to distract him from how much he despised his new form.

Almost.

“Are you done yet, or…?”

“Do you want me to be done?”

They met his gaze evenly, and he could only huff in reply, the tip of his tail twitching in their hands. Yes, but no, was the honest answer – and fuck that. Regardless, Audie took his silence as ongoing permission, and continued onwards with their investigation.

More than once, their claws dragged in just such a way to prompt his tail to jerk – more than once, he’d choked on a snort and cast them a withering look that they either ignored or missed. The sensation was more annoying than anything, yet still sent nervous butterflies through his system.

And then their hands were on his fins, and his breath hitched – barely-perceptible, thank God, but still embarrassing. Their thumbs gently pressed down where the flesh of his fins met the scales of his tail, tapering into either texture, and that almost felt nice.

Their claws trailing over the delicate skin, however, was not something he could tolerate for long – and with a stifled snort, his tail jerked. Audie squeaked with annoyance as he smacked them in the face. An unintended attack, granted, but still…

Deserved.

“T-Time’s up, knock it off,” He chimed quickly, pulling his tail off of them entirely and willing his gills to relax where they’d flared up from the nerves. God, that would’ve sucked immensely. Audie pouted, but allowed him the opportunity to call it, standing up and stretching with a groan of their own. 

“Alright. My turn, then – how d’you wanna do this?”

It took a little thought and finagling, but the two of them settled for letting them sit on his tail and lean against his body, their back to his front. Their tail curled up between their legs like a pool toy, and they playfully drooped the fins over their own head before allowing him to take the limb in his hands.

Just like his, Sebastian could feel the muscle underneath – powerful and developed, though the joints themselves felt stiff as he manipulated the limb. Audie seemed to wince when he pressed down, and he grunted – concerned, against his better judgement.

“Doesn’t hurt,” They assured without further prompting; “I mean – it does, when the meds wear off, but it’s good for now. It’s just – the bone problem… My tail was grafted on.”

“Mm. That’s right… You mentioned.”

They hadn’t. But they overshared so much that they didn’t remember that. He, meanwhile, remembered reading their file. 

“Is it numb right now?”

“No… Soft touches don’t feel like much, with the painkillers n’ all.”

A bitter twinge of mild jealousy sprouted in Sebastian’s chest – at least they wouldn’t be having an embarrassing, dumb reaction – though he was quickly proven wrong when a bit of pressure applied on either side of their tail made it twitch and prompted a strangled noise from them.

“Uh?”

“Uh.”

A beat, and he snorted, tilting his head down at them as he let up on the squeeze.

“... You good?”

“Kinda? It felt like – you know when someone pinches that point at the back between your shoulders and neck?”

Well. It’d been literal decades, but – “Sure.”

“That - hhHAAH, hey!”

Sebastian chuckled to himself as he pressed down again, and Audie whined, pressing back against him as their tail jerked in his hand – woefully helpless, what with their size difference. With a second hand, he experimentally ran a claw of his own over their fin, pressing down just enough to prompt a soft squeal.

Audie’s back arched, and they kicked lightly at the new addition to their torment, shaking their head.

“Nonononono that’s so bad that’ssobadstop!”

“Geeze, you’re gonna break the sound barrier at this rate…”

He longed to push his own luck a little – but courtesy given was courtesy returned, at least, and Audie hadn’t done him wrong. So, begrudgingly, he relented, and Audie slid off him to plop on the ground, curling their tail around their body and holding it close. Sebastian craned his neck to grin down at them, amused.

“So much for not being sensitive, huh?”

“Shut it. As if I didn’t catch your reaction earlier.”

“... Touche. I won’t take advantage if you won’t.”

“Deal.”

That deal would, inevitably, break – but not before they helped him get all the belts and supplies back on. Hopefully. 

[writingcold]

A/N: A smutty little one shot that I've had in my drafts for a bit. No point to this one - just a blurb and a hearty helping of .... This is definitely an 18+ only. A huge thank you going out to @ohgodthefeeling-gvf for putting your eyeballs on this one for me and encouraging me to share this. Here you go - I promised it just in time for breakfast! lol 😘

Pairing: Jake X fem Reader

You are on your way home from a weekend with Jake and talking about your favorite moments of that weekend.

Content warning: language, oral (m receiving), fingering, public sex (sort of), unprotected sex, mentions of biting (m receiving). Again, 18+ only.

Word count: approx. 3000 and only sorta kinda edited but not really

     The weekend may have been almost over, but you were flying down the highway, windows down, music loud, and your body feeling light as you softly rocked to the beat. The thick woods and deep greens of ferns and grass flew by as Jake sped you towards home.  The high from the concert, and the after show antics definitely had you in its clutches and would for many more days.  That was all right though.  You hadn’t felt this good in weeks.  

     The sound of his laugh filled you in ways that egged you on as you slid around to look at him, pulling his hand into your and threading your fingers.  He glanced at you with an air smooch before putting his eyes back on the traffic.  He was nodding his head to the beat as you danced along, wind in your hair, sunshine on your skin.  Yeah.  These were moments that you truly cherished.  The small minutes that lacked grand gestures and lots of attention.  No.  Those were fine, but in the simple, day-to-day, golden moments that belonged to just you and him were your fuel while he was on the road and you were too wrapped up in your own world of work and whatever else that you held dear.  

      As the song drew to a close, Jake turned down the volume a bit before taking your hand once more and bringing it up to his mouth.  “What was your favorite part of the weekend?”  he asks, eyes firmly ahead, but his attention squarely on you.

      “Do you mean the show or the weekend as a whole?”  you ask, eyes darting to his handsome profile as you swipe your hair out of your face.

      “Both.  What was your favorite part of the show, and then the weekend as a whole,”  he answers with a smile filled glance.

      You dramatically tap your fingertip to your chin before you laugh.  There was so much that you could just babble on about.  It leaves you wondering if that was intent in the first place.  Instead, you find your eyes on the landscape for a while before you find some voice to answer.  “For the show…  I think it was the solo for ‘It Ain’t Over’.  Or maybe when he did that voice crack in ‘Fever’...  I know, that extended ‘Your Touch’ just hit it.  Oh my god, and to close on ‘Lonely Boy’?  Ugh.  So good.”

      You looked at him to see his reaction, only to find him nodding along.  Clearing your sore throat - because obviously, you screamed and sang your ass off the entire show, including during the openers - you shift around to better face him.  “As far as the weekend as a whole, it’s a toss up: window shopping was amazing, Jakey, as was lunch.  But I think going to that little pub after the show and everyone in there was from the show and still hyped up.  Yeah.  That was amazing.”

      You loved the way the corner of his mouth pulled and tugged and nearly fought against the will to curl upwards in a smirk.  You could see that he was watching you though his attention was on driving.  A tiny hint of a blush touched your cheeks as he flipped your hand up to kiss your palm before pulling you closer to him to lean and press a kiss to your hairline.  You laugh as he returns the volume to loud.  Reaching over, you turn the sound back down to catch his attention once more.

      “Okay, what about you, rockstar?”  you ask, perking an eyebrow at him.  “What was your favorite part of the show and the weekend as a whole?”

      You watch him grin as his eyes narrow.  He hums with thought, though it’s so obvious that he already knows his answer.  “When they did ‘Wild Child’-”

      “But that’s not your favorite song,”  you argue.

      “While that may be, I got to watch my favorite girl shake her ass with wild abandon like I was the only one watching.”

      Your breath catches in your throat as he allows his words to hang between you, thick and heavy.  You noticed something early on in your relationship with Jake - he can flip a sexy switch that just leaves you melted, breathless and horny in 0.0000000321 seconds.  No. Matter. What.  It gets you every time.  And he knows it.  He watches you from the corner of his eye as you shift in your seat, a light press of your knees, a flex of your toes and calves to stave off at least a bit of his magical hold on you.

      “And your favorite part of the weekend as a whole?”  you ask, voice a whisper, you tone suddenly husky as if betraying you to let him know you’re already turned on.

     “My blowjob.”  

     No hesitation.  No shyness.  No reservation.  Just the words and that damn cocky smirk hits your cunt like a major league fastball.  Your cheeks flash instant red while your tongue darts out across your already puffy lip. You whip your eyes to look out the window like he didn’t catch your reaction in the least.  You hear him hum a bit to the melody like he was giving you a touch of grace to recoup yourself.  But then, it strikes.  His blowjob.  The one that you gave him.  You made him come apart at the seams and it was emblazoned on his thoughts.  Your confidence level bursts through the roof.  You take one more cooling breath before shifting back in your seat, you hand drifting back across the console.  You dragged one fingernail to scratch along his ancient jeans, letting the sound fill the air. 

     “Careful there, baby,”  he said, his voice deep and full of rasp.  “Don’t start something you don’t want to finish.”

      You let a soft purr rumble through your throat as you lean back into your seat while keeping your fingertips dancing across his arm.  “For research purposes, what about the blowjob made it different from all the others I’ve given you, Jacob.”

      You surprise yourself in how your voice comes out low and slow and sexy.  It’s a long way from your norm and it catches him off guard.  He shifts behind the wheel and you can just tell he’s debating what and how to say his next words.  

     “Oh, well,”  he starts as he clears his throat.  “I don’t know.  Perhaps I didn’t know if you were going to have your tongue in my ass or teeth on my balls…”

      He’s gone the blunt and very direct route.  You raise an eyebrow.  These were not new moves.  That was not what made this any different.  You deliberately drag your tongue against your bottom lip slow enough for him to catch his eye.

     “That’s not what made this one different,”  you say in a hushed, raspy voice.

     You watch this throat as he swallows.  “The way you bit my balls, y/n.  You fucking bit my balls.”

     And your thighs and your hips and your ass…  You find yourself grinning wickedly as the memory blazes through your mind.  You even made sure to peek as he stumbled out of bed that morning and caught sight that indeed you had left a few small purple love marks on his ass.

     “I never knew my damn knees could touch my ears,”  he whispers.  “I didn’t know I’d like it so damn much, either.”

      Your chin dips as you lift your eyes up to look at him through your lashes.  A soft coo falls across your lips as you lift up the hem of his shirt to run the pad of your fingers across the soft belly.  The sigh that emits from his mouth eggs you on as you dip a finger into the waistband of his jeans and boxers.  You’re watching his face closely, looking for any hint to stop.  Instead, the right eyebrow lifts slightly as you discover the tip of his most hard cock waiting for you to discover.

      You can’t help but swallow as you lean even closer, the seatbelt fighting your every move.  His eyes are scanning back and forth, looking for anywhere to stop as your lips brush at his shoulder.  You tug at the floppy sleeve just enough to expose the skin to kiss at and blow a cool breath across.  A low growl bubbles at the base of his throat as you repeat the gesture, but combined with twisting your wrist so that you can rub the tip of your finger against the tender slit of his dick, collecting the precum that was already there.

      “Fuuuuck,”  he whispered as he watched you draw that little drip up to your waiting tongue.

       You sway back to your seat as he swerves the car onto the off ramp suddenly.  You watch with a frown as he barely stops at the top of the hill and races the engine through the turn to the right.  His eyes are locked ahead until he sees what he wants.  It’s a small turn off for an abandoned boat landing.  The tiny lot held just four spots for parking, all of which were empty.  He parks the car, throwing it into park hard.  

      “Get out,”  he growls, leaving keys in the ignition as he practically jumps out through the driver’s side door.

      You’re scrambling to follow as the trunk is opened.  He slides a blanket onto the top of the car as he wraps his hand across your hip.  He pins you against the car, his mouth crashing into your lips in a hungry kiss.  His hands are digging into every surface of you, practically tearing the fabric of the t-shirt you had so stolen from him.

      “What made it different for you,”  he pants between landing kisses to your mouth, your jaw, your neck.  “What made you do that to me?”

      His hand grabs at the thin fabric of your skirt, bunching it up to give him access to your heat beneath.  He’s not gentle as he shoves his fingers beyond the flimsy band of your panties, covering your mound with rushed fingers.  You gasp out as he immediately finds your spot that makes your knees weak and every ounce of breath evaporates from your lungs.

      “Tell me or I won’t do that again,”  he grumbles, his lips dangling on your earlobe.  He even withdraws his hand to punctuate his demand, pressing into your abdomen like he would hold you and wait forever if you made him.

      “You let me…”  you whine, shifting your hips to gain his touch once more.  

      “What?”

      Your body is bending and begging for him to touch you again as you stammer across the right words.  “You fucking let me, Jake.  You just let me do the most unhinged things to you and ask for fucking more.”

      He pauses.  The heat of gaze blazes across your face as he takes your chin in his palm in an effort that is so beyond tender that you feel your eyes prickle from the beauty before you.  But it was fleeting.  Suddenly, you hear his fly unzip and he swivels his hips against you as he is reaching behind you.  He drops the blanket from the trunk and leans back just a fraction.

      “On your damn knees,”  he growls as he unbuttons his jeans to slide them down just enough to release himself.

     You drop to your knees, eager to please.  You don’t need him to tell you what to do, you immediately open and slide his length down your throat just to hear that velvet, raspy gasp wash over your ears and send your mind to the most filthy places imaginable.  The fingers of his right hand lace through your hair while his left hand holds his jeans from falling too far down his legs.  He lets you pump him at your whim until you look up at him as his cock nearly pops from between your lips.  The cloudy haze that passes across his eyes lets you know what is to come and you brace yourself.  He starts to pump into your throat, striking the back of your throat as you desperately try to swallow with each thrust.  He is already close.  You can feel him thicken against your tongue.  Just when you think he’s going to cum, he stops and practically rips you up off your knees.  

      His mouth slams to yours.  His tongue is deep in you as he’s practically humming with the moment.  Suddenly, he drags himself back.  He turns you, pushing your hands across the top of the car and immediately your feet spread of their own accord.  You hear him laugh quietly, but you don’t care.  You know what’s next.  You push your hips back, lifting up your ass so his hands come down on you.  It’s only for a moment though.  He is not careful as he drags your skirt up and you’re pretty sure there is a tear in it somewhere.  You grunt as he does shred your underwear as he carelessly shoves them down.  And then…  there.  What you wanted to return, returns with fervor.

      He slides his hand over your hip, across your pubic bone and directly into your throbbing pussy.  His thumb knuckle presses hard to your clit while the pads of his fingers ghost your entrance in a luscious pass.  Your mouth falls open as he begins to pump you.

      “Let me hear you, princess,”  he demands before he latches onto your bare shoulder.  

     The way he sucks and laps at your skin, you’re sure you’ll have to wear a turtleneck for the first few days back to work.  The flood of sound that straggles from your mouth is matched only by the flood between your legs as you cum hard.  You can feel the pleasure rumble through his chest as he keeps his knuckle pressed to your clit and replaces his fingers with his dick.  The collective gasp fills the air between you as he begins to ruthlessly pound into you, hitting that spot that drives you into another dimension.  

     You find a brief respite as he drops his hand away.  But your eyes widen as he loops that hand upwards and over your shoulder so that he could shove his fingers into his mouth.  “Oh my fuck, Jake,”  you gasp as the sound strikes your ear in a filthy slurp.

     “Sweeter than anything else I can have,”  he says, taking both your hips in his hands to better guide him against you.  “Tell me again.  What was your favorite part of the weekend?”

      You make a sound that gurgles from your throat as he shifts his hips against you into a different pattern, a different rhythm.  You can barely keep your knees from buckling, and he’s expecting full, coherent sentences?  Your eyes roll to the back of your skull with the possibility of them not returning.  Your body is bucking against his as another orgasm rips through your flesh.  You hear him coming apart behind you but you know, there’s always the threat of him stopping just to hear, or see, or wait for whatever his demand might be.  

      Your breath is coming hard and fast and burning as he reaches into your hair to yank you flush against his chest.  The low moan that bubbles into your ear tells you that you do not have much time.  He’ll either remove himself and finish himself off before you or …  fuck.

      “This,”  you finally admit.  “I like how I can do the smallest thing and this is my result.  No matter what, Jake.  It’s always my favorite part of any day.”

      “You like making me fuck you,”  he says, his tone incredulous.

      You're nodding your head as a hard curse slithers from his mouth.  He doubles his efforts, shoving you up against the side of the car with a hard press.  You’re practically chirping as he’s slamming into you.  

      “You gonna squirt on me, baby,”  he breaths, his hips snapping against you with a lewd slap.  “Let me have it.  Let me have it now.”

       His hand somehow finds space between you and the metal of the car to squeeze your tit beneath the thin bra.  Your head falls back as you feel the whole of your insides coil like a bedspring being pressed down.  You begin to let out a groan, soft at first crescendoing into a loud half scream as you unleash everything you have.  You’re thrown forcefully into an orgasm that had you both shaking from its power.  He struggled to keep his pace, desperately searching for his own release.  He keeps repeating for you to keep going, just keep going, a little more, just. a. little. more.

       He explodes in you, engulfing both of you in such an intense flame that your sounds mix into a chorus of joy.  His body is quivering against you as you both slow to a stop.  He makes a sound as he falls from you.

      “Sorry, baby.  I didn’t think that one through very well,”  he says, seeing the mess he’s made of you.  “Hold on, love.”

      You grimace as he falls away from you.  You puff your cheeks out as you try not to move as he opens the car door, rummaging around for a moment.  You glance around and see he’s pulling a t-shirt from your shared bag and the bottle of water.  You roll your eyes.

      “Lord, grab me undies and that pair of shorts while you’re at it,”  you grumble as he wets down the shirt to use to clean you both up.  “So romantic, Jake.”

      “Well, at least it’s something,” he sighs as he blushes a bit.  “I’m sure there’s a gas station close we can stop at, but this will do for now.”

      You grin as he wads the used shirt up as you’re pulling yourself back together.  He straightens out his shirt before he leans into you, his nose brushing against your cheek.  He folds you up against him and you relish in the soldiness of his body.  He holds your door open for you and watches as you slide back into the passenger seat.  You’re trying to fix your hair as he starts the car back up to get you on your way.  You notice that he watches you.

     “What?”  you ask, a grin pulling at the corners of your mouth as you tie your hair up to just get it out of the way.

     “Nothing.  It’s just been my favorite weekend.  Ever.”

     The weekend may have been almost over, but you were flying down the highway, windows down, music loud, and your body feeling light as you softly rocked to the beat. The thick woods and deep greens of ferns and grass flew by as Jake sped you towards home.  The high from the concert, and the after show antics definitely had you in its clutches and would for many more days.  That was all right though.  You hadn’t felt this good in weeks.  

     The sound of his laugh filled you in ways that egged you on as you slid around to look at him, pulling his hand into your and threading your fingers.  He glanced at you with an air smooch before putting his eyes back on the traffic.  He was nodding his head to the beat as you danced along, wind in your hair, sunshine on your skin.  Yeah.  These were moments that you truly cherished.  The small minutes that lacked grand gestures and lots of attention.  No.  Those were fine, but in the simple, day-to-day, golden moments that belonged to just you and him were your fuel while he was on the road and you were too wrapped up in your own world of work and whatever else that you held dear.  

      As the song drew to a close, Jake turned down the volume a bit before taking your hand once more and bringing it up to his mouth.  “What was your favorite part of the weekend?”  he asks, eyes firmly ahead, but his attention squarely on you.

      “Do you mean the show or the weekend as a whole?”  you ask, eyes darting to his handsome profile as you swipe your hair out of your face.

      “Both.  What was your favorite part of the show, and then the weekend as a whole,”  he answers with a smile filled glance.

      You dramatically tap your fingertip to your chin before you laugh.  There was so much that you could just babble on about.  It leaves you wondering if that was intent in the first place.  Instead, you find your eyes on the landscape for a while before you find some voice to answer.  “For the show…  I think it was the solo for ‘It Ain’t Over’.  Or maybe when he did that voice crack in ‘Fever’...  I know, that extended ‘Your Touch’ just hit it.  Oh my god, and to close on ‘Lonely Boy’?  Ugh.  So good.”

      You looked at him to see his reaction, only to find him nodding along.  Clearing your sore throat - because obviously, you screamed and sang your ass off the entire show, including during the openers - you shift around to better face him.  “As far as the weekend as a whole, it’s a toss up: window shopping was amazing, Jakey, as was lunch.  But I think going to that little pub after the show and everyone in there was from the show and still hyped up.  Yeah.  That was amazing.”

      You loved the way the corner of his mouth pulled and tugged and nearly fought against the will to curl upwards in a smirk.  You could see that he was watching you though his attention was on driving.  A tiny hint of a blush touched your cheeks as he flipped your hand up to kiss your palm before pulling you closer to him to lean and press a kiss to your hairline.  You laugh as he returns the volume to loud.  Reaching over, you turn the sound back down to catch his attention once more.

      “Okay, what about you, rockstar?”  you ask, perking an eyebrow at him.  “What was your favorite part of the show and the weekend as a whole?”

      You watch him grin as his eyes narrow.  He hums with thought, though it’s so obvious that he already knows his answer.  “When they did ‘Wild Child’-”

      “But that’s not your favorite song,”  you argue.

      “While that may be, I got to watch my favorite girl shake her ass with wild abandon like I was the only one watching.”

      Your breath catches in your throat as he allows his words to hang between you, thick and heavy.  You noticed something early on in your relationship with Jake - he can flip a sexy switch that just leaves you melted, breathless and horny in 0.0000000321 seconds.  No. Matter. What.  It gets you every time.  And he knows it.  He watches you from the corner of his eye as you shift in your seat, a light press of your knees, a flex of your toes and calves to stave off at least a bit of his magical hold on you.

      “And your favorite part of the weekend as a whole?”  you ask, voice a whisper, you tone suddenly husky as if betraying you to let him know you’re already turned on.

     “My blowjob.”  

     No hesitation.  No shyness.  No reservation.  Just the words and that damn cocky smirk hits your cunt like a major league fastball.  Your cheeks flash instant red while your tongue darts out across your already puffy lip. You whip your eyes to look out the window like he didn’t catch your reaction in the least.  You hear him hum a bit to the melody like he was giving you a touch of grace to recoup yourself.  But then, it strikes.  His blowjob.  The one that you gave him.  You made him come apart at the seams and it was emblazoned on his thoughts.  Your confidence level bursts through the roof.  You take one more cooling breath before shifting back in your seat, you hand drifting back across the console.  You dragged one fingernail to scratch along his ancient jeans, letting the sound fill the air. 

     “Careful there, baby,”  he said, his voice deep and full of rasp.  “Don’t start something you don’t want to finish.”

      You let a soft purr rumble through your throat as you lean back into your seat while keeping your fingertips dancing across his arm.  “For research purposes, what about the blowjob made it different from all the others I’ve given you, Jacob.”

      You surprise yourself in how your voice comes out low and slow and sexy.  It’s a long way from your norm and it catches him off guard.  He shifts behind the wheel and you can just tell he’s debating what and how to say his next words.  

     “Oh, well,”  he starts as he clears his throat.  “I don’t know.  Perhaps I didn’t know if you were going to have your tongue in my ass or teeth on my balls…”

      He’s gone the blunt and very direct route.  You raise an eyebrow.  These were not new moves.  That was not what made this any different.  You deliberately drag your tongue against your bottom lip slow enough for him to catch his eye.

     “That’s not what made this one different,”  you say in a hushed, raspy voice.

     You watch this throat as he swallows.  “The way you bit my balls, y/n.  You fucking bit my balls.”

     And your thighs and your hips and your ass…  You find yourself grinning wickedly as the memory blazes through your mind.  You even made sure to peek as he stumbled out of bed that morning and caught sight that indeed you had left a few small purple love marks on his ass.

     “I never knew my damn knees could touch my ears,”  he whispers.  “I didn’t know I’d like it so damn much, either.”

      Your chin dips as you lift your eyes up to look at him through your lashes.  A soft coo falls across your lips as you lift up the hem of his shirt to run the pad of your fingers across the soft belly.  The sigh that emits from his mouth eggs you on as you dip a finger into the waistband of his jeans and boxers.  You’re watching his face closely, looking for any hint to stop.  Instead, the right eyebrow lifts slightly as you discover the tip of his most hard cock waiting for you to discover.

      You can’t help but swallow as you lean even closer, the seatbelt fighting your every move.  His eyes are scanning back and forth, looking for anywhere to stop as your lips brush at his shoulder.  You tug at the floppy sleeve just enough to expose the skin to kiss at and blow a cool breath across.  A low growl bubbles at the base of his throat as you repeat the gesture, but combined with twisting your wrist so that you can rub the tip of your finger against the tender slit of his dick, collecting the precum that was already there.

      “Fuuuuck,”  he whispered as he watched you draw that little drip up to your waiting tongue.

       You sway back to your seat as he swerves the car onto the off ramp suddenly.  You watch with a frown as he barely stops at the top of the hill and races the engine through the turn to the right.  His eyes are locked ahead until he sees what he wants.  It’s a small turn off for an abandoned boat landing.  The tiny lot held just four spots for parking, all of which were empty.  He parks the car, throwing it into park hard.  

      “Get out,”  he growls, leaving keys in the ignition as he practically jumps out through the driver’s side door.

      You’re scrambling to follow as the trunk is opened.  He slides a blanket onto the top of the car as he wraps his hand across your hip.  He pins you against the car, his mouth crashing into your lips in a hungry kiss.  His hands are digging into every surface of you, practically tearing the fabric of the t-shirt you had so stolen from him.

      “What made it different for you,”  he pants between landing kisses to your mouth, your jaw, your neck.  “What made you do that to me?”

      His hand grabs at the thin fabric of your skirt, bunching it up to give him access to your heat beneath.  He’s not gentle as he shoves his fingers beyond the flimsy band of your panties, covering your mound with rushed fingers.  You gasp out as he immediately finds your spot that makes your knees weak and every ounce of breath evaporates from your lungs.

      “Tell me or I won’t do that again,”  he grumbles, his lips dangling on your earlobe.  He even withdraws his hand to punctuate his demand, pressing into your abdomen like he would hold you and wait forever if you made him.

      “You let me…”  you whine, shifting your hips to gain his touch once more.  

      “What?”

      Your body is bending and begging for him to touch you again as you stammer across the right words.  “You fucking let me, Jake.  You just let me do the most unhinged things to you and ask for fucking more.”

      He pauses.  The heat of gaze blazes across your face as he takes your chin in his palm in an effort that is so beyond tender that you feel your eyes prickle from the beauty before you.  But it was fleeting.  Suddenly, you hear his fly unzip and he swivels his hips against you as he is reaching behind you.  He drops the blanket from the trunk and leans back just a fraction.

      “On your damn knees,”  he growls as he unbuttons his jeans to slide them down just enough to release himself.

     You drop to your knees, eager to please.  You don’t need him to tell you what to do, you immediately open and slide his length down your throat just to hear that velvet, raspy gasp wash over your ears and send your mind to the most filthy places imaginable.  The fingers of his right hand lace through your hair while his left hand holds his jeans from falling too far down his legs.  He lets you pump him at your whim until you look up at him as his cock nearly pops from between your lips.  The cloudy haze that passes across his eyes lets you know what is to come and you brace yourself.  He starts to pump into your throat, striking the back of your throat as you desperately try to swallow with each thrust.  He is already close.  You can feel him thicken against your tongue.  Just when you think he’s going to cum, he stops and practically rips you up off your knees.  

      His mouth slams to yours.  His tongue is deep in you as he’s practically humming with the moment.  Suddenly, he drags himself back.  He turns you, pushing your hands across the top of the car and immediately your feet spread of their own accord.  You hear him laugh quietly, but you don’t care.  You know what’s next.  You push your hips back, lifting up your ass so his hands come down on you.  It’s only for a moment though.  He is not careful as he drags your skirt up and you’re pretty sure there is a tear in it somewhere.  You grunt as he does shred your underwear as he carelessly shoves them down.  And then…  there.  What you wanted to return, returns with fervor.

      He slides his hand over your hip, across your pubic bone and directly into your throbbing pussy.  His thumb knuckle presses hard to your clit while the pads of his fingers ghost your entrance in a luscious pass.  Your mouth falls open as he begins to pump you.

      “Let me hear you, princess,”  he demands before he latches onto your bare shoulder.  

     The way he sucks and laps at your skin, you’re sure you’ll have to wear a turtleneck for the first few days back to work.  The flood of sound that straggles from your mouth is matched only by the flood between your legs as you cum hard.  You can feel the pleasure rumble through his chest as he keeps his knuckle pressed to your clit and replaces his fingers with his dick.  The collective gasp fills the air between you as he begins to ruthlessly pound into you, hitting that spot that drives you into another dimension.  

     You find a brief respite as he drops his hand away.  But your eyes widen as he loops that hand upwards and over your shoulder so that he could shove his fingers into his mouth.  “Oh my fuck, Jake,”  you gasp as the sound strikes your ear in a filthy slurp.

     “Sweeter than anything else I can have,”  he says, taking both your hips in his hands to better guide him against you.  “Tell me again.  What was your favorite part of the weekend?”

      You make a sound that gurgles from your throat as he shifts his hips against you into a different pattern, a different rhythm.  You can barely keep your knees from buckling, and he’s expecting full, coherent sentences?  Your eyes roll to the back of your skull with the possibility of them not returning.  Your body is bucking against his as another orgasm rips through your flesh.  You hear him coming apart behind you but you know, there’s always the threat of him stopping just to hear, or see, or wait for whatever his demand might be.  

      Your breath is coming hard and fast and burning as he reaches into your hair to yank you flush against his chest.  The low moan that bubbles into your ear tells you that you do not have much time.  He’ll either remove himself and finish himself off before you or …  fuck.

      “This,”  you finally admit.  “I like how I can do the smallest thing and this is my result.  No matter what, Jake.  It’s always my favorite part of any day.”

      “You like making me fuck you,”  he says, his tone incredulous.

      You're nodding your head as a hard curse slithers from his mouth.  He doubles his efforts, shoving you up against the side of the car with a hard press.  You’re practically chirping as he’s slamming into you.  

      “You gonna squirt on me, baby,”  he breaths, his hips snapping against you with a lewd slap.  “Let me have it.  Let me have it now.”

       His hand somehow finds space between you and the metal of the car to squeeze your tit beneath the thin bra.  Your head falls back as you feel the whole of your insides coil like a bedspring being pressed down.  You begin to let out a groan, soft at first crescendoing into a loud half scream as you unleash everything you have.  You’re thrown forcefully into an orgasm that had you both shaking from its power.  He struggled to keep his pace, desperately searching for his own release.  He keeps repeating for you to keep going, just keep going, a little more, just. a. little. more.

       He explodes in you, engulfing both of you in such an intense flame that your sounds mix into a chorus of joy.  His body is quivering against you as you both slow to a stop.  He makes a sound as he falls from you.

      “Sorry, baby.  I didn’t think that one through very well,”  he says, seeing the mess he’s made of you.  “Hold on, love.”

      You grimace as he falls away from you.  You puff your cheeks out as you try not to move as he opens the car door, rummaging around for a moment.  You glance around and see he’s pulling a t-shirt from your shared bag and the bottle of water.  You roll your eyes.

      “Lord, grab me undies and that pair of shorts while you’re at it,”  you grumble as he wets down the shirt to use to clean you both up.  “So romantic, Jake.”

      “Well, at least it’s something,” he sighs as he blushes a bit.  “I’m sure there’s a gas station close we can stop at, but this will do for now.”

      You grin as he wads the used shirt up as you’re pulling yourself back together.  He straightens out his shirt before he leans into you, his nose brushing against your cheek.  He folds you up against him and you relish in the soldiness of his body.  He holds your door open for you and watches as you slide back into the passenger seat.  You’re trying to fix your hair as he starts the car back up to get you on your way.  You notice that he watches you.

     “What?”  you ask, a grin pulling at the corners of your mouth as you tie your hair up to just get it out of the way.

     “Nothing.  It’s just been my favorite weekend.  Ever.”

*****

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❦

A RIM-SHOT.

D'ANGELO x BLACK!FEM!OC

SUMMARY: in which Essence gets a shot at D'Angelo, her long-time instrument-playing crush who played a local club she frequents. ✨

❦

𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗖𝗘 and her sister Erin sat at a table in the front row of the poetry and neo-soul club as they watched the band perform, both of their focuses on different instrumentalists while Essence gently tapped her foot to the rhythm of the song playing underneath the table.

the club was more of an African American club, and i say this because mostly Black folks were seen visiting it. sure, some earthy-looking white women visited occasionally to enjoy the sounds of catchy soul and smooth poetry slams, but the club was more of a safe space for Black people, especially since all of the employees and the performers were black.

the owner? black. the bartender? black. the instrumentalists? black. the singers? black. the poets? black.

it was a black-owned business with black employees, black visitors, black performers, and black instrument players, and Lord knows you'd never find that anywhere else but there.

"you think i could transform into a drum set, Erin?" Essence rhetorically asked, resting her hand underneath her chin, as the sisters locked eyes and Erin let out a soft chuckle.

"as long as i can transform into a guitar." Erin joked, a playful smile on her face, as Essence cracked a smile and let out a soft laugh while their dark brown eyes averted back to the stage in sync.

the drummer of the band on stage was D'Angelo, also referred to at times as just 'D'. he was one of the reasons why Essence was a consistent visitor at the peaceful club. he was an extremely attractive man, and nobody in the room could deny that. from his neat and slightly lengthy black cornrows, his caramel and seemingly smooth skin, and his gorgeous and hypnotizing brown eyes to his beautiful aura, his calming energy, and his enticing and slightly raspy vocals; it was clear as day that he was definitely one of God's favorites.

Essence hadn't made a move on the brown-skinned man yet, and honestly, she didn't know why. she wasn't a very shy woman and approaching a man she wanted wasn't hard for her to do, but for some odd reason, she hesitated on approaching D'Angelo. sure, he was intimidating and he made her nervous, but that never stopped her before, so it confused her and her sister why she hadn't pursued the drummer yet.

as for Erin, the guitarist she was fawning over was none other than André, referred to as André 3000, Dré, and sometimes just 3000, and he was also stunning as well. Erin wasn't as bold as Essence, so it was understandable why she hadn't approached him yet, but she wanted to grow out of her shy ways and pursue the man she wanted, which is what she said she'd do tonight, and this caused a deal to brew up between her and Essence.

the two made a deal that they both had to let go of their anxiety and timidness and approach the men they secretly adored, which Essence agreed to without a second thought. the goal was to spark up a conversation and get their numbers, but if it went further than that, it'd be extra points for the two.

ending up in their beds wasn't the achievement they were going for, but if they got that far, they wouldn't complain about it. it'd just push them further into wanting to seal the deal they had agreed upon the night before.

—

"you takin' that shot because you want it or because you need somethin' to make you bold?" Essence asked, raising a brow, as she watched Erin down a shot of Vodka and Erin slightly cringed at the sensation of the strong liquor going down her throat while she gently cleared her throat.

"both," Erin croaked, lightly hitting her chest, as she signaled the bartender over to refill her shot glass and Essence laughed while she sipped on her strawberry margarita, "don't worry 'bout me tho', tell me how you gon' approach D."

"i still ain't figured that out." Essence mumbled, letting out a soft chuckle, as she fiddled with a few of her black locs and Erin raised a brow at her before chuckling, downing her shot and biting down on her bottom lip to keep her from making a face while she wiped the corners of her mouth.

"girl, you ain't got a lot of time to try and figure that out. you shoulda' had that planned out last night," Erin chuckled, shaking her head, as she sat down her shot glass and stood up from her stool, "i see André's off stage, so i'm 'bout to go holla' at him before this liquor wears off. i wish you luck in gettin' ya drummer boy, Essie."

"and i wish you luck in gettin' ya guitarist, E." Essence smiled, playfully winking towards her, as Erin sent a wink back and walked away from the bar, going towards wherever her dream man was while Essence turned around to face the bar and swirled her straw in her glass.

maybe if she would've gotten something stronger than a margarita she'd be able to approach D'Angelo like Erin approached André, but she hated the taste and smell of strong liquor so that option was quickly thrown out of the window. sinking into her overthinking, Essence rested her hand against her jaw as she stared at the counter and slipped her slim black straw between her plump lips, sipping the rest of the margarita in her cocktail glass while she tried to come up with a way that she could imitate Erin's actions and go up to her crush.

she didn't know how she'd do it, but she knew she'd bag her dream man tonight. however, she believed it would be much easier for her to pursue him if he acknowledged her first.

"what'll ya have, sir?"

"i'll take a glass of Whisky. and refill this pretty lady's glass with whatever she had before. put all that on my tab." the familiar silky voice made Essence's ears prick up, and she snapped out of her thoughts as she watched the bartender pick up her glass and the dark-skinned woman averted her eyes to the person next to her, signaling for Essence to look at the person who was seated beside her.

turning her head, Essence's eyes nearly shot out of their sockets as she stared at D'Angelo, a small warm smile on his face while a soft blush coated Essence's brown-skinned face once she realized he had referred to her as "this pretty lady." the way he randomly appeared next to her and acknowledged her was like the universe had read her mind, and if it did, she wasn't complaining.

"a great drummer and a gentleman? i think the men in here got some competition," Essence joked, raising her brows, as D'Angelo let out a laugh and Essence giggled before holding out her manicured hand, "i'm Essence, but some people call me Essie for short."

"i'm D'Angelo, but i'm sure you knew that already," D'Angelo chuckled softly, shaking her hand, as he brought her hand up to his lips and gently kissed each of her knuckles, "so you think i'm a good drummer, huh?"

"good is an understatement if we're referring to you. sometimes i come here just to hear you play," Essence smiled, the blush on her face starting to intensify, as the bartender came back to the adults with their drinks and the both of them thanked her at once before she smiled and walked away to let them continue their conversation, "when did you learn how to play the drums?"

"when i was 12. when i was younger, i was exposed to a lot of soul music and i saw a lot of black people who played instruments, and that made me wanna be one of 'em, y'know what i'm sayin'? i started wantin' to learn to play the piano, the guitar, the saxophone — all'at. but when i found the drums... that's when i knew i found what i truly wanted to play," D'Angelo explained, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb, as Essence nodded her head and took a sip of her drink, "now, don't get me wrong, i can play all of that, but my favorite is definitely the drums. if it wasn't the drums, i'd probably be playin' the piano, not gon' lie."

"i used to play the piano at my church when i was 13. i joined a band at my school so i could continue playin' it and after i graduated, i forgot all about my passion for it until i came here," Essence chuckled, watching the male across from her take a sip of his brown liquor, as she absentmindedly ran her tongue over her lips and tingles spread up her arm once she realized her hand was still in his grasp, "you gon' get me jumped in here like half of these women not feenin' for you, D."

"half of these women only want me 'cause they think i'm attractive. i ain't worried about them. i'm worried about you," D'Angelo chuckled, licking the excess alcohol from his lips, as he sat his glass down and his brown eyes slyly flickered between Essence's eyes and lips, "you always come here by ya'self? or you come here with ya man?"

"that's your way of checkin' to see if i'm in a relationship, huh? so you a great drummer, a gentleman, and smooth... a lil' sweet-talker, ain't you?" Essence joked, a small smirk on her face, as she raised her brow and D'Angelo laughed, causing her to laugh with him, "but, nah, i don't have a man. i come here with my sister Erin."

Essence nodded her head towards Erin, causing D'Angelo to look over at her sibling, as the two looked at Erin and André and watched them flirt with one another, making both of them chuckle while they turned their attention back to one another.

"does likin' instrumentalists run in the family?" D'Angelo joked, raising a brow, as Essence laughed and picked up her drink, taking a sip of it while she removed the straw from her lips and sat it back down.

"we like what we like... and i like drummers with cornrows." Essence flirted, an enticing smirk crossing her face, as a smirk crept onto D'Angelo's face and the atmosphere around them suddenly filled with sexual tension, causing Essence's pupils to slightly dilate in lust while she lightly squeezed D'Angelo's hand.

"yeah?" D'Angelo smirked, scooting closer to her, as Essence raised a brow at him before mimicking his actions, their legs resting against each other while D'Angelo's hand trailed up her arm, "well, i like pianists with locs."

"you do, huh? you got a piano at ya crib, D?" Essence smirked, picking up her glass, as she wrapped her lips around the straw and drank the rest of the liquor in the glass.

"is that your way of askin' to come home with me?"

"maybe."

—

"ooh, nice place. i see you do a lil' decoratin' on the side." Essence complimented, a small smile on her face, as D'Angelo chuckled and closed and locked the door behind them, looking over at her while he wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

"thank you, beautiful. i got a lil' music room in here too, that's where all my instruments and stuff at." D'Angelo added, guiding her down the hallway, as Essence raised her brows and looked up at him.

"you got a piano in there?"

"see for yourself."

opening the door of the room, a smile crossed Essence's face once she saw D'Angelo's customized drum set but her smile widened once she saw his piano, an abrupt squeal coming from her while she walked over to it.

"oh, my Godddd, it looks like one from my high school!" Essence exclaimed, a large smile on her face, as she pulled out the wide leather piano bench and sat down on it, looking over at D'Angelo and patting the spot next to her, "c'mere. i'ma play sum' for you."

"yeah? what'chu gon' play?" D'Angelo chuckled, smiling at her enthusiasm, as he walked over to her and sat down next to her.

"listen and see." Essence playfully smirked, gently nudging the man with her elbow, as she cracked her knuckles and D'Angelo laughed at her playfulness, earning a giggle from Essence before she positioned her hands above the piano keys and began playing.

as Essence played, a wide toothy grin crept across D'Angelo's face once he realized she was playing "Lean On Me" by Bill Withers, and Essence noticed his realization when she glanced over at him, causing her to let out a soft chuckle.

"i know you know the words, drummer boy. sing a lil' sum' for me." Essence smiled, looking over at him, as their eyes locked and D'Angelo's brows raised once he realized she could play the piano without looking at it, making a small playful smirk cross her face while she raised her brows as well.

along with drumming, sometimes D'Angelo sang at the club as well, so not only did Essence fall in love with his instrument-playing, she fell in love with his skillful vocals as well.

D'Angelo let out a soft chuckle and listened to her play as he slowly caught the rhythm of her fingers on the keys and gently cleared his throat, preparing his voice to sing while his eyes gradually shut.

"LEAN ON ME, WHEN YOU'RE NOT STRONG, AND I'LL BE YOUR FRIEND," D'Angelo sang, his brows slightly furrowing in concentration, as Essence smiled widely at him and lightly nodded her head to his voice, continuing to play the piano while she looked at the singing man next to her, "I'LL HELP YOU CARRY ON. FOR IT WON'T BE LONG, 'TIL I'M GONNA NEED SOMEBODY TO LEAN ON."

"okayyy, i see you! you better sang, boy!" Essence joked, giggling, as D'Angelo let out a laugh and shook his head while Essence's piano playing gradually came to an end, "teach me how to play the drums."

"right now?" D'Angelo asked, raising his brows at her, as Essence took her fingers off the piano keys and wiped her palms on her bootcut blue jeans.

"yeah, right now. i played the piano for you, i deserve to be taught how to play the drums." Essence pouted, lightly poking out her bottom lip, as D'Angelo chuckled and shook his head, standing up from the bench and grabbing the woman's hand.

"c'mon. i'ma teach you, pretty," D'Angelo led the woman over to his drum set by her hand and pulled out the drum throne that was seated by the bass drum, "sit right here. i'ma go get another chair so i can sit behind you and show you."

"behind me?" Essence asked, her face slightly twisting up in confusion, as D'Angelo chuckled and walked back over to her with a chair in his hand, sitting it behind her while he gripped the sides of the drum throne and pushed closer to the drum set.

"yeah, behind you, Ess'. i gotta' guide you, don't i?" D'Angelo chuckled, sitting in the wooden chair behind her, as he scooted closer to her and grabbed the drumsticks that were resting on the snare drum, placing one in both of her hands while he nudged her right thigh with his knee, "put your foot right there on that drum pedal. that's how you'll hit that bass drum down there."

"okay so, here's what you're gonna do..." D'Angelo held Essence's hands as he instructed her how to create rhythmic beats, his arms resting on top of hers and his broad chest pressed up against her back as his head nestled on her right shoulder. as she listened to his instructions, she couldn't help but zone out as he spoke to her, drowning in the sexually intrusive thoughts that were beginning to cloud her mind.

with the smell of his cologne flooding her nose and his minty breath fanning her neck, Essence's mind was filled with thoughts so raunchy and vulgar that she couldn't bring herself to say them out loud, and to be honest, she didn't want to say them out loud. she could feel his body heat radiate off of his toned upper body and onto hers, and it only fueled the fire that was secretly growing inside her lower region.

who knew teaching someone how to play the drums could be so intimate?

"...you got that, ma?" hearing this, Essence was knocked out of her thoughts and she looked to her right, seeing D'Angelo look up at her while awaiting her answer to his question. as she looked into his eyes and he looked into hers, the room was gradually filled with sexual tension, and it was very similar to the tension the two felt at the club, but since they were alone, it seemed much stronger than before.

Essence's eyes flickered between D'Angelo's eyes and lips, causing him to mirror her actions, as his head rose from her shoulder and moved closer to her face, their lips inches apart while Essence's breathing softly hitched in her throat. she looked between his eyes and lips for a final time before smashing her lips onto his, capturing his lips in a passionate lip-lock while he returned the favor. D'Angelo's hands and arms were still touching hers and his chest was still pressed up against her back, and it seemed to only increase the burning flame of desire inside of the brown-skinned woman in front of him as she squeezed her thighs together and the drumsticks abruptly slipped from her grasp, the wooden sticks hitting the floor while D'Angelo gave her hands a gentle squeeze.

slipping out of his grip, Essence turned around on the drum throne, her lips still engaged with his, and she cupped his face in her hands as her acrylics ran over his chiseled jawline, making a soft grunt come from his lips while his hands rested on her thighs and caressed them through her jeans.

"got a bedroom you can fuck me in or you wanna make some music together?" Essence mumbled in the kiss, a small smirk crossing her face, as D'Angelo let out a soft chuckle and smirked with her before standing up and picking her up from the drum throne, her legs instinctively wrapping around his slim waist while he carried her over to the red loveseat near his guitars and recording booth.

"Let's make some music, baby."

[linksthoughtbrambles]

BRAMBLES CONGRATS ON 500 THATS AMAZINGGG. For my request how about Zelda taking care of a sick Link (any zelink, maybe even shink👀)

No Expectations

An Ocarina of Time one-shot, Shink, rated T, ~3000 words, whump, hurt/comfort though perhaps not in the usual sense, also on ao3.

Sheik stared down at the Hero of Idiocy.

His entire body was one massive, inflamed bruise, his eyes swollen shut, lips split from repeated impacts. He had at least three broken ribs—and a concussion, obviously. If Sheik hadn’t pulled him out of there, he’d have become yet another skeleton adorning the depths of the ancient Shadow Temple, his bones pounded into the earth by hands too cursed to be seen.

He clearly hadn’t seen it – not until the last minute, when he’d almost run out of fight.

Irritating as his fairy was, she should have screamed louder.

‘Hey! Listen!’

Hey, fairy—fly in his pouch and hand him the damn lens if he’s too busy getting pummeled to think of it himself.

Now, Navi flitted nervously about Link’s head.

“Off with you,” Sheik said.

The fairy tinkled.

“He’s bandaged as much as will help and I have the witch’s potions. You hovering won’t help.”

She tinkled again, wavering wildly up and down.

Sheik had the distinct impression he’d been told likewise. “I’m not hovering,” he said. “I’m tending. Now, out. Why don’t you go eat—whatever it is you normally eat.”

That was met with furious, high-pitched buzzing.

Sheik took out a bottle.

Navi spluttered fairy-dust as she whizzed out the open casement.

Sheik smirked. It was the only amusement he felt all day, before or after; getting the viscous red potion down Link’s unconscious throat proved non-trivial, and every time his breathing paused blood roared like forest-fire in Sheik’s ears.

He managed to keep Link’s bandages clean and, thankfully, free of any sign of festering. There was little to be done about the crushing injuries but wait for his body to heal itself—with a little help from water and the medicines, of course. Sheik turned the narrow table in the room into a miniature apothecary and requested broth from the innkeeper with each meal.  He’d be damned if he wouldn’t have something Link could eat the instant he woke.

More than 24 hours later, Sheik stood mincing herbs for a poultice, glowering at the green issuance from the leaves as it stained his fingers.

How could he trust Link to prevail after this? Sheik had held almost entirely back—the sword’s wielder needed to become a true master of his martial craft. He couldn’t be coddled.

Sheik slid the herbs into the mortar with the others and began grinding them into a thick paste with unnecessary viciousness. It smelled delicious, and he glowered harder as a sudden hunger pang hit him.

The pestle ground to a halt when a second, much louder stomach-growl occurred behind him.

Sheik turned to find Link watching with bleary eyes, dark between slits in puffy lids, his swollen lips parted, his expression confused if anything, though difficult to read amid all that distortion.

Anger roiled upward from Sheik’s abdomen and settled as a red heat in his head. It narrowed his eyes and wrinkled his nose, though his mask hid that part.

“So,” Sheik said. “You’re awake.”

Link licked his lips and winced.

Sheik set the mortar down with deliberate delicacy, held by its rim in his fingertips and released with an exaggerated opening of his full hand. He would not rage at Link. He would make it very very clear Link had screwed up.

“It’s you,” Link said, his voice a pale whisper.

Sheik’s brow pinched.

The hunger growl repeated itself.

Sheik grimaced and reached for the now-lukewarm chicken broth he’d kept lidded. He brought it over, slid an arm beneath Link’s shoulders, and began upward pressure.

Link groaned.

“It won’t be so bad once you’re propped,” Sheik said flatly.

A few groans, gasps, and winces later, Link was upright enough on pillows to sip from the cup. Sheik had been prepared to stop him from drinking too fast, but Link didn’t seem able, anyway. He took so long, Sheik’s shoulder got sore from holding the cup to his lips even though he only managed a quarter of it.

Link leaned his head fully back, neck craning toward the ceiling, his eyes moving as though reading words written there above them.  “Thank you,” he said

Shiek’s nose wrinkled invisibly once more. “You’re…” an idiot… “welcome.”

In two more days, Link could sit up briefly by himself. Sheik fed him and tended to his wounds, but spoke very little, and when he did it was all practicality. He kept catching little snatches of expressions on Link’s face—ones he wiped clear when Sheik would turn fully to face him: his brows pinched—a slight lifting of his cheeks, with no smile—a dusting of red visible despite his bruises—a swallow.

Nerves and confusion, it seemed.

“You’re angry with me,” Link said to Sheik’s back.

All movement in the room ceased.

“It took you this long to figure that out?” Sheik asked matter-of-factly, careful to keep any heat out of his voice.

“No,” Link said. “It took me this long to say it.”

Sheik found himself taking a long, deep breath and sighing, slow, his eyes shut, a stinging sensation beginning in them he tried to crush right out of existence. That would give the game away entirely. He knew what he sounded like when he cried, and it wasn’t what people expected to hear. Even the tears—those weren’t Sheik enough. Impa would be furious with him.

His eyes squeezed further shut.  He shook his head and leaned, both palms flat on the edge of the table.

“Sheik?” Link asked on a quiet, high pitch.

He just shook his damn head.

“I was so glad to see you,” Link said. “When I woke up.”

Sheik turned just enough to side-eye him.

He was still reclining on the pillows, his head turned to face Sheik but resting. “The last thing I thought before I went out was…”

Link’s mouth kept opening, just a little, with no sound.

Sheik huffed. “That you should’ve taken the damn lens out of your pocket?”

Link blinked rapidly for a solid three seconds. Then he broke into a smile he was clearly trying to fight, the left side of his mouth twitching insistently while his lower lip rose as if to clamp the top one in place. His face kept turning redder, and the tiny snort of laughter which escaped Link twitched a corner of Sheik’s mouth upward despite himself.

Link’s laughter burst out, mixed with painful wheezes as he held his battered ribs, and Sheik’s gut insisted on shaking with impossible, ridiculous, unwise laughter. It was madness to take Link’s life-threatening error lightly. Insane. It did take him too long to figure things out.

“Y- you-“ Sheik said, trying to break through his own laughter and failing, tears now streaming freely down his eyelids to his face mask, excusable as hilarity, though the shuddering in his abdomen insisted on being more than that.

Link calmed before Sheik did.

He did try to stop it. He splayed a hand over the top half of his face, his eyes shut.

Link had been breathing softly, then caught his breath a few times. “Hey,” Link said.

He said it like that.

Sheik fought not to curl in on himself.  His his muscles tautened like harpstrings.

“Come here,” Link said. “Please.”

Sheik tapped his foot.

“Please?” Link asked. His voice was far too gentle. Sheik removed his hand in time to see Link pat the edge of the bed.

Sheik ground his teeth.

But the feet beneath him took him there.

He sat, the mattress denting more than it seemed like it should for a person his size.  His muscles trembled with the effort of remaining together.

Link held his hand out, palm open. Sheik stared at it, then at Link, who nodded. Sheik held his own hand out, confused until Link clasped it in his own, his grip firm despite his off-color skin.

Sheik did not gasp.

“There’s something else I took a long time to say,” Link said, his words very soft. They stopped Sheik’s breath entirely. He watched, transfixed—horrified—elated—as Link’s other hand approached his mask.

“This okay?” Link asked.

The shape Sheik’s head drew was a circular war between a nod and a shake.  Link’s hand flinched back a hair.

“If it’s not, I- I’ll-“

A tiny sound escaped Sheik and mortified him instantly: high, soft, and pleading. He felt as though his skin had become the shade of his irises.

“Does that mean you want me to?”

Sheik shut his eyes in frustration with himself. He leaned a fraction closer to Link’s hand.

His fingers sent shivers down Sheik’s tense nerves as he gently eased the cloth down.

Sheik spent long moments just breathing.

“It is you,” Link whispered.

When Sheik finally opened his eyes, the smile on Link’s face was the most breathtaking he’d ever seen on him, even with his split lips and mottled skin.

“I almost took too long,” Link said. “I thought…” his smile turned sad as his free hand hovered between himself and Sheik. “I thought I would die without telling you.”

An unsteady puff of air left Sheik’s mouth. “That I’m Zelda? I already knew that.”

Link laughed, too, a calm huff. “Kind of. But, no… that’s… not it. At least, it’s not all.” Suddenly Link was struggling to sit upright. Sheik helped him on instinct, his clasped hand anchoring Link’s and pulling him upward. Link grunted his pain, but he stayed up, now much closer to Sheik.

“I was surprised at first, and confused,” Link said, his voice now shaking.

Sheik shook, too. “About what?”

A small smile touched Link’s face. “By how attracted I was to you,” he said.

All that red drained from Sheik’s face. He wouldn’t be surprised to look in the mirror and find his eyes had de-reddened too.

“I was always hoping to see you,” Link said. “Around every corner. You seemed to always know where I was or- at least where I would be, but I could never find you when I tried.” He laughed, its flutters nervous. “I was hoping you’d still be in Kakariko when I left the temple, but then…”

Link seemed to deflate. His head hung, shaking side to side, his shoulders slumped. “I failed you.”

Sheik wanted to say he hadn’t, but it just wasn’t true. It was part of his anger.

“Impa…didn’t come out either, did she?”

Sheik’s lips quivered.

“I- am so sorry,” Link said, his chin weak.

“Everything has its time,” Sheik said.

A few puffs of halfhearted laughter left Link. “Except me,” he said.

“You nearly did,” Sheik hissed.

“…Yeah. Yeah, I did. I shouldn’t’ve joked about that.” He gave Sheik a sheepish look.  “I wasn’t smart. I rushed in. I was trying to catch up to Impa. I didn’t prepare anywhere near as well as I should have and I was trying to make up for lost- lost time- finding the lens. I don’t know why I didn’t even think to look through it when I got smashed into the ground repeatedly.”

“Probably because you were too busy getting smashed into the ground repeatedly,” Sheik said.

“But…you found me.”

“I followed as soon as the village wasn’t burning.”

“Why this time and not the others?”

Sheik gave him a long look.

“…Do you always follow me?”

“Yes,” he said, very quietly.

Link leaned closer and closer. Their bangs met first—then their foreheads. “So…if I turn around…why don’t I see you.”

“I’m good at hiding.”

“Why hide from me?”

“To stay strong.”

“You can’t be strong with me?”

“I can’t be seen to be-“ Sheik bit his lip, taking a calming breath. “You must understand. No one knows who I am. I can’t seem to be interested in you.”

Link raised on eyebrow. Sheik’s cheeks flushed at the same rate as Link’s mouth curling upward. “So…you’re interested in me.”

“Of course I am,” Sheik hissed. “You and I are the keys to ending Ganondorf’s evil reign!”

“Oh, I see. So you can’t seem to care about how I’m doing.”

“Exactly.”

“Are you sure that’s all it is? Because you teaching me all those teleportation songs sure seems like you care about how I’m doing. In the battle for Hyrule, I mean.”

“No one saw me teach you those.”

“Oh, so it’s okay if no one sees.”

“Of course.”

Link was smiling so slyly at him. He could think of one (unwise) way to wipe that smirk right off his face, and it made him grip Link’s still-clasped hand much harder.

“Ouch,” Link said.

Sheik did not apologize. “You yourself said you were- confused. Surprised. You can’t have immediately known who I was.”

Link reached up to brush a strand of hair from his eye. “No. Not right away.”

“But you were attracted.”

Link nodded.

Sheik registered those eyes of his wandering all over his face. His heart sped when they lingered longer on his lips than they should have. “You are not the only person who would think it odd.”

Link snorted. “There’s a difference between me coming to terms with things about myself and some jerk being judgy.”

“It isn’t about judgement. It’s about expectations. I am a man.”  Sheik stared hard at him, eyebrows shot way up, daring Link to challenge him.  “And if I behave in a way contrary to people’s expectations, it will be noticed. I can’t afford a doubt which would whisper in Ganondorf’s ear.”

Link chuckled. “You think that’s more likely to tip him off than the music lessons?”

Sheik shoved his face right up to Link’s, eye-to-eye and nose-to-nose, glaring. “I had to do that. No getting around it. Riskier to try and pass it off to someone else.”

Something changed in Link’s expression, then. It reminded Sheik of something, but he couldn’t place what.

“Okay,” Link said. “If- you think it’s a bad idea, I won’t push you.”

Sheik’s eyes stung again.

“I just- wanted to make sure I told you.” Link huffed again, half a laugh but also sad. “Before my time actually comes.” He reached for Sheik’s hand and unclasped it from him—and placed an extremely gentle, chaste kiss to its heel.

Sheik didn’t let any sound out.

His hands came to rest in his lap, but Link’s went to the bed on either side of him. He was trembling hard.

“You…shouldn’t sit up so long,” Sheik said, annoyed with himself.

“I’m alright.” Link said.

Sheik watched the wielder of the Master Sword shake—not out of fear: out of pain. More than one kind.

It occurred to Sheik that he, on occasion, could also be an idiot.

“I didn’t realize,” he found himself saying, “the mistake I was making when I threw you the ocarina.”

Link looked back up.

“I should’ve taken it with me. Impa and I could’ve taken it with us to the ends of the earth. Maybe we could’ve destroyed it. Ganondorf might eventually have found another way in, but he also may have grown old and died before he did. It would’ve spared Hyrule. It would’ve spared you. I…” Sheik swallowed, and he just let it happen this time—Link already knew. Whatever expectations he might’ve had didn’t matter.

And if Sheik was honest with himself, Link not having figured it out had been part of his anger, too. How could he not have known Sheik was Zelda?

And yet how could Sheik expect him to figure out something kept so tight to his chest?

It turns out he had, anyway.

Maybe it didn’t take Link all that long to figure things out. Maybe the problem was the time it took to choose.

The back of Link’s finger brushed first one tear, then another, from Sheik’s cheeks.

“I made the same mistake,” Link said. “I opened the door for him.” Link’s hand came to rest on Sheik’s cheek, and it changed something in Sheik’s entire body. His back wanted to arch, his breath begged to speed, and something warm and hazy seemed to enclose his thoughts, encouraging him to discount everything he’d said to Link in the past ten minutes.

“Neither of us is perfect,” Link said, his thumb caressing Sheik’s cheek, “but I love you just the way you are. No exceptions, and-“ Link smiled softly- “no expectations.”

Sheik found himself holding Link’s hand to his face, his arm pressing Link’s to his side, and realizing expectations had, in fact, been his problem. He’d expected Link to do all this alone—thought he needed to, to prepare for what was coming. Ganondorf was far more deadly than any of the creatures inhabiting the corrupted temples, and Link needed to be ready. Sheik was already ready, wasn’t he?  He hadn’t spent 7 years sealed in the Sacred Realm asleep. He’d trained and fought and grown and lived for nothing but the moment he could free Hyrule from its tyrant.

Yet neither he nor Link would succeed in that final endeavor alone. They would need both parts of the Triforce to overcome Ganondorf—as well as Sheik’s innate magic and Link’s truly extrarordinary strength and prowess.

Even Impa had been overcome by the evil spirit of shadows alone.

“Maybe,” Sheik said, astonished at the fluctuations in his own voice, “I should’ve- stepped in. A lot earlier than I did.”

“It’s okay,” Link said.

Sheik knew he meant it. He swept the tip of his nose against Link’s, a soft touch.

Then, they were kissing.

Sheik didn’t quite understand how it began, but Link’s mouth was on his, his hand still on Sheik’s cheek while the other slid against the small of Sheik’s back. Sheik buried his fingers in Link’s hair and curled an arm around Link’s shoulders, pressing him closer, the two of them making sounds of mingled relief, desire, and-

Pain?

Sheik gasped, inwardly cursing himself as he released the pressure on Link, who was chuckling.

“Ouch,” Link said.

“Maybe you’d better lay down-“

“Yeaaaah.”

Sheik helped him ease back down to the pillows and Link grasped his hand, kissing the backs of each knuckle. Sheik huffed flushed laughs at each one, eventually extracting himself while Link smiled at him.

“You,” Sheik said, “need rest.”

Link shrugged, then winced.

“Ha. See?”

“Yeah, I know.” Link adjusted himself lower on the pillows. “Are you still mad at me?”

Sheik studied him a long moment. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not sure I was to begin with, truly.”

Sheik waved a hand at Link’s confused face. “Rest. I’ll ponder my inner workings. Don’t worry about it.”

He went back to preparing a salve for Link’s eyes and lips. This time, he smiled at the smooth concoction, imagining the look on Link’s face when he applied it—an incredible relief from the near-constant scowl he’d worn these past three days…and seven years.

--

[Thanks for the ask, Ace! This just kept getting longer 😂].

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Can you please do promot 10 and 12 with Sam wilson please?

.⋆｡The Cleansing Rain｡⋆.

Sam Wilson x plus size reader

The fight was bad, really bad but neither of you wanted to stop loving the other

Warnings: mentions of the snap, fighting, angst, implied ptsd

WC: 752

Minors DNI

3000 Follower Celebration

The fight had lasted for days and you both were exhausted. It had sparked over something insignificant that you couldn’t really give a shit about anymore and then blew up to the point where you and Sam were screaming in each other’s faces.

Sam felt you were pulling away from him, not as loving as you used to be. You returned back that he was dead for five years and you had to learn to live without him. 

You thought Sam was being entitled to your affections when he did nothing for you in return. He snapped that he had a job to do, he and Bucky had to protect people who couldn’t protect themselves.

But everything broke down when you wondered if the relationship was even worth saving. It was obvious that you had changed immensely since the blip while your partner was left behind to pick up the pieces of what used to be his life while still trying to be a hero.

“If you aren’t happy here then just fucking leave!” You screamed at him but really you were begging him not to go.

“You know what I think I will because I can’t stand this shit anymore.” But he was pleading to stay. 

“Go!” Tears burned behind your eyes but you refused to let them fall, refused to let him see how you were breaking all over again.

“Fine!” The front door slammed behind him, shaking the foundations of your home and your heart. You didn’t see the way his shoulders fell, he didn’t see how you crumbled.

He left without saying ‘I love you’. You let him go without saying ‘I love you’.

That was almost a week ago and you felt like you were dying. The house was too quiet, your bed too empty. Every time the old floorboards creaked, your head shot up, expecting to see Sam in the doorway, a bright smile on his face, his dark eyes sparkling. But he was never there. 

You kept the TV on constantly, too scared of the silence. So that’s how you heard about the storm. 

Sam hated storms, he always had. He’d always get scared when lightning struck and thunder rolled. The night he asked you to be his girlfriend was during a storm like the one about to hit Louisiana. He had burst into your home, eyes wide with fear and collapsed into your arms, his whole body trembling. You wrapped him up in the softest blanket you could find and distracted him with things from shitty puns to singing to him. And when the power finally gave out, he took you into his arms and asked you to be his.

As the skies darkened above the small ocean town, anxiety bubbled in your stomach. ‘Was Sam somewhere safe?’ ‘Who was looking out for him?’ ‘Did they know what to do if he had an attack?’

Before you could think, your shoes were on and you were out the door. There were only two places he would be- his sister’s or Bucky’s. The first drops of rain started to fall as you ran through the streets, gunning for Sarah’s house.

Your feet pounded against the pavement in time with the beating of your heart. The fog closed in around you as fat water droplets smacked you in the face, getting more intense by the second. 

Yet still you ran.

“Y/N!” The voice was distant, muffled but it was still the voice you needed to hear the most. 

“Sam!” His silhouette stood against the blur of the rain.

You collided together almost painfully but you didn’t care. His arms were around you again, you both were whole again. “Sam I’m sorry I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that you were being selfish.” He shook his head and squeezed your thick waist even tighter.

“I was being selfish. You were doing so much for me and I did nothing to help you.” You laughed sadly, your tears mixing with the rain. 

“Maybe we were both being dumb.” He laughed that laugh you loved so much and your chest warmed even though your clothes were now thoroughly soaked through with frigid water.

“Maybe we were.” Your arms wrapped around his neck and brought his lips closer to yours.

“Come home.” You whispered just above the din of the storm.

“I’m already home.” And as he kissed you in the freezing rain, all the pain was washed away, even if it was just for a little while.

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[naranjapetrificada]

Fanfic Friday time

This week wrt my own writing: things are picking back up again, although god I forgot how little sunlight we get during spring. Of what I've written of Chapter 3 so far, I'll probably be keeping like, 3000 words? Which doesn't feel like a lot considering how much I wasn't able to squeeze into Chapter 2, but the problem with misjudging your timeline is that you start seeing new places to put things, farther away than when you started. I also have some important pieces I need to get on the proverbial chess board and no idea how to elegantly do it so

Anyway, onto the recs! I've been reading a mix of new and old OFMD stuff, plus a disarmingly beautiful Good Omens fic I found deep in my [redacted number] open AO3 tabs that knocked me right off my feet.

Works from the A to Z of Edward Teach zine started to show up on the archive this week, if you weren't able to purchase your own copy. It's packed with great stuff, but a couple of gems that stood out to me were:

To-cat-ta and Fugue by the one and only @mxmollusca, a silly and sweet canon divergent (season 1) one shot that brings a whole new meaning to "cat energy"

J is for Jeff by @veeagainsttheday, a modern AU about Ed trying to get a new start with a new identity, but accidentally telling the cute guy whose life he impulsively saved his real name. Thing about saving someone's life is they might want to thank you for it, and if they're Stede Bonnet then Ed Jeff will want to see him again.

As for non-zine OFMD recs, well, I'm still out here trying to scratch the Fast Car itch while patiently waiting for smallestchurch to post the third* chapter. In the mean time:

I went for one of her other fics, Turn on the Light. This time it's a modern AU where Stede buys a bookshop next door to Ed's famous cocktail bar, and as we know, these boys fall in love in every universe. I adored it.

For some more childhood friends vibes, I went to If You Get the Time, the Number is Still Mine by @one-more-page. It's told almost entirely through phone calls between Ed and Stede as they grow up and apart and back together again, and did a great job of capturing the extremely specific loneliness of watching yourself lose a friend.

And last but certainly not least we have Though Heaven Bar the Way by @books-and-omens, a gorgeously written, evocative, canon divergent Good Omens fic that I'm going to be thinking about (as a writer and a reader) for a long, long time. Inspired by The Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann, it's set at a tuberculosis sanitorium in the Swiss Alps a few decades after Crowley and Aziraphale's big 1862 fight. When I say it knocked me off my feet I mean it knocked me off my feet. It hit me like an avalanche. I will be recommending to absolutely everyone.

*because I have a modicum of self awareness I can see the irony here, deep in my own WIP's chapter 3 trenches.

[kaiowut99]

Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters GX Episode 1 Subbed (Finalized Re-Release)

(Original Finalized Release Post)

(Check out my Subbed!GX Stream Masterpost!)

TURN-1: Yugi's Successor

On his way to the Entrance Exams for the Duel Academia High School, Judai Yuki meets the legendary duelist Yugi Mutou and receives a card from him. Running late, Judai arrives at the venue and requests to take his exam, but Instructor Chronos sees Judai's exam as pointless given his lackluster score on the written exam. A duel begins between Judai and Chronos, and Chronos's rare Antique Gear Golem card uses its powerful 3000 ATK to damage Judai. His back against the wall, Judai hears the voice of a Monster--which turns out to belong to the card he received from Yugi, Winged Kuriboh...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

...I first posted the original finalized version of this episode almost 10 years ago??? Time is an illusion...

Fresh off the presses, it's a re-finalized version of my episode 1 subs! Well, probably re-re-re-re-finalized given my penchant for consistency and quality after previous revisions in the past 2-3 years, between fixing a handful of animation errors and terminology revisions... But this one merited a new post not so much for any updated translations, but because after casually skimming through this episode a while back, I noticed more animation errors, all card-related, that I'm now able to fix as I have for episodes since. You know the deal with this one, I'm sure; new kid on the block bumps into the Game King himself as he runs late for his Academia exam and manages to hit one of the school's best with his skills--literally. Fun opening episode to a fun series.

With this, I'm hoping to officially call this episode finalized for good, mainly because the kind of annoying thing about doing further revisions now is that, thanks to my solid-state drive (SSD) failing in October of 2022, I lost my personal copies of the episode scripts with the ATK/DEF counters I stylize and all, so it means I have to cut/stitch together different parts of the episode between the fixes I applied and the previous hardsub to account for the stat-counter subs or the eyecatch subs I started doing--since the softsub MKVs I release don't have those specific subs, they're easier to update. So I hopefully shouldn't be touching anything before episode 84 (the first one I finalized after getting a new drive) again and those can ideally be considered finalized for good. I'm hoping I can also give that title to 84-109 (where I currently am), but I'd like to think I didn't miss anything, lol.

Anyway, as mentioned, this revision applies several card-related fixes to the episode, some of which replicate fixes 4Kids did for the dub that I took a cue from. The fixes were added to the last DVDRip I released, subsequently made into a new softsub MKV, both of which will be up on NAC soon with the updated hardsub. List below the cut below as always, for the interested~ (Nice thing with some of these is that the frame rate was usually consistent, which meant that editing most panning shots and the occasional zoom shots were usually more of a breeze than later on, haha.)

Enjoy, folks; with this out of the way, since it's been about two weeks since 108 and 109 were finished up, I'll start setting up stuff for finalizing 110 while doing a little more TFSP work here/there before I fully start on 110 sometime next week. Stay tuned!

Fixes & Edits!

*The bolded edits below were applied back in 2021 and were added into the original release post; adding them here for completeness.

Applied a card back to an orange rectangle that was a face-down card during the panning shot of the Exam Duels going on over the episode’s opening narration as it fades to Chronos watching, repeating the edit as it pans back around again before fading to Manjoume and Ryou/Asuka watching.

As Misawa's exam proctor says that he stands no chance against his Super Defense Deck, the blank-art cards on his Disk for Big Shield Guardna and Gear Golem the Moving Fortress are reversed (the wider side for the effect box should be on the right). Fixed by applying proxies on them for a frame in AfterEffects, masking in the card outlines for blending, before taking that frame into Sony Vegas and zooming it out for the zoom shot here.

As Misawa's Ring of Destruction destroys Vorse Raider, we see the smoke rush onto the proctor's side of the field--and as we do, we can quickly see the blank-art Big Shield Guardna and Gear Golem cards on his Disk are again reversed before the smoke covers them. Fixed first in AfterEffects by slapping the proxies on for a frame, then in Vegas by taking that frame into and keyframing it to the rapid panning shot for most of its 17 frames. (Incidentally, throughout this scene, a different error happens in the dub, where aside from keeping the cards' orientation on the proctor's Disk incorrect, they also shuffle between Gear Golem and Big Shield Gardna being Normal or Effect Monsters--bit of an identity crisis!)

Fixed the error with Misawa’s LP dropping to zero after he uses Ring of Destruction to finish his Exam Duel; should have dropped to 1300.

After the proctor's LP drop to zero, he congratulates Misawa on his win, but the Gear Golem card on his Disk is reversed. Fixed first in AfterEffects by applying my proxy for a few frames, then taking one of those frames into Vegas to lightly keyframe as the shot pans left. (As a fun editing aside, I could tell 4Kids likely edited this in a similar way to how I did because as the cards fade out, you can briefly see some residue of Manjoume's hair outline on Big Shield Gardna's card which they didn't cover up; I definitely made sure I went the extra mile with redrawing the arena floor to cover that haha.)

After Misawa thanks the proctor, we zoom out to Manjoume in the stands as the Solid Vision fades out, but the cards under Big Shield Guardna and Gear Golem are--you guessed it--reversed. Fixed in a few ways, with the goal being to redo Big Shield Guardna and Gear Golem fading out--first, in Vegas, I took the first frame after they're gone and zoomed it into place at the start of the zoom, which let me cover up Gear Golem and most of Big Shield Guardna, but because Manjoume's hair moves upward as the shot zooms out, doing this means I couldn't fully cover it. So, I then took this first post-fadeout frame into Photoshop, where I used the Clone Tool to duplicate the arena floor and cover up the rest of Big Shield Guardna, reinserting it into Vegas and applying the zoom keyframes I did to the earlier frames to it--this lets my edited frame properly zoom out with the shot. Once done, I went into AfterEffects and applied the Big Shield and Gear Golem proxies onto the shot's first frame, masking them above the cards, then took that frame into Vegas to zoom out with the shot (rather easily, luckily, thanks to the frame rate note I mentioned up top), masked out Big Shield and Gear Golem and made them fade out into the edited frame in the layer below. With that set, all I had left was to go back and mask Manjoume's hair back above the edits for the duration of the fade, which was pretty easy, and boom goes the dynamite.

After Judai's duel with Chronos starts, he summons out Elemental Hero Featherman, but the card gets placed reversed on his Disk. Fixed in AfterEffects by applying a proxy first to one frame during the initial light zoom-out in the shot, taking the fixed frame into Vegas to re-zoom and hold once the zoom was over.

Chronos reacts to Featherman's summon, and as Featherman lands in front of Judai, his card on his Disk is reversed again, but also as the screen pans right, for a few frames as Judai moves to then place a card face-down, the shadow under his left leg goes from being more gray to black, turning back to gray once he stops moving. Fixed in AfterEffects first by placing a correctly facing proxy on his Disk for a frame, which I then took into Vegas and re-panned into the shot; while in Vegas, I then masked in the gray leg shadow over the black, masking in part of Featherman's ATK/DEF counter over the edit to blend it in.

In the next shot, as Judai ends his turn and their LP counters pop up, the Featherman card under him on the field is reversed; fixed in AfterEffects by slapping in a proxy, masking Featherman back in above it.

[cont below]

(10) After Chronos uses Confiscation, as he sends Judai's Revival of the Dead/Monster Reborn to his Cemetery, a few things happen: 1) the Featherman card on his field under him on the field is facing Chronos in Attack Mode, and 2) it's in the wrong Zone on Judai's Disk, as it should be in Monster Zone 3. I fixed this a few ways, first fixing the Featherman-on-field aspect in AfterEffects, applying a Defense-Mode proxy under Featherman and masking him and Judai back over it; I then took a cue from 4Kids and took the frame immediately after his Cemetery stops being lit up (but before Judai starts to move) and the frames as Judai moves into Photoshop, where I copied the empty Zone 1 into place over Zone 2, blending it in with some minor editing, and combined it with the AfterEffects edit I then did by applying a Featherman proxy in Defense Mode to Zone 3. After throwing everything into Vegas, I then applied some masking to a solid-white color layer to replicate the lights coming from Judai's Cemetery slot (helped by the fact that, luckily, the lights don't move). (The dub, for their part, only handled the Disk aspect, applying a weird light to cover up their Zone 2 edit while the Graveyard was lit up, leaving the Featherman card on the field as it originally was, OCG format and all lol.)

(11) Chronos activating Heavy Storm causes a huge storm of wind on the field, and as it gets to Judai's field, we see that the Defense-Mode Featherman card on the field under Featherman is reversed. Fixed first in AfterEffects, applying a proxy in a frame where most of the card was visible and masking Featherman back above it, then taking that frame into Vegas where I first redid the panning that happens, then I created a solid-color layer colored like the wind and applied some masking to replicate the gusts of wind that blow over the card.

(12) After Chronos summons his Wicked Lord Tokens and the crowd reacts, the smoke on the field from their summon simmers down, but the Featherman card under Featherman is reversed again. Fixed in AfterEffects by applying a correctly facing proxy and then masking Featherman back on top.

(13) After the commercial break, fixed the error with a Ra Yellow student’s miscolored jacket as he and the others watch Antique Gear Golem being summoned, thanks to thepalebride’s help.

(14) After crowd reaction to Antique Gear Golem being summoned, Asuka looks out onto the field and says she unfortunately heard the sound of the Academia's gates closing shut for Judai--as she does, we see that the blank-art card under Featherman is reversed. Fixed first in AfterEffects by applying a proxy under him in the first frame of the shot and masking him back on top, then taking that frame into Vegas where I re-panned it as the shot pans upward.

(15) After a brief blush, Judai summons out Winged Kuriboh, but he places it reversed on his Disk--and in the very next shot, it's correctly facing such that its name box is to our left. Fixed in AfterEffects by applying a proxy as he places it on his Disk, masking his fingers over it.

(16) After Antique Gear Golem destroys Winged Kuriboh and Judai tells Chronos that it reduces his damage to zero--to Asuka's shock--Judai takes Winged Kuriboh off his Disk and places it in his Cemetery slot in a quick shot, but the card is reversed again. Also fixed by 4Kids, I fixed this in AfterEffects by applying a proxy facing correctly in the frames in which Judai moves it.

(17) After summoning Flame Wingman, and after some taunting from Chronos, Judai activates an arena as heroic as he is in Skyscraper, but as he does so, Flame Wingman is missing from his Disk, as it should be in Zone 3. Fixed first in AfterEffects by applying a proxy (after finding the best-quality screenshot of Wingman's anime art and touching it up using an AI tool [I think I settled on Waifu]), fading it in as the scene fades from the Judai closeup to Judai about to swing his Disk around, and adding it as he does so, then applying a brightening and dimming as the Solid Vision lights go on around him. Once I did that, I went into Vegas and applied some masking on the little flickers that pop up over that zone to blend the edit in. (Side-Note: while dubifying the Skyscraper card in Judai's hand, 4Kids forgot to mask in his thumb over it, begging the question... how is Jaden holding that?)

(18) Fixed the blank Normal Monster card that should be Flame Wingman, both as Antique Gear Golem crashes onto Chronos and as the duel fades to an end.

[verifiedaccount]

I'm trying to read the Paste review of the new Swift album. It being the only red review on metacritic worked, they got my click. Amusingly, the byline is "Paste Staff," no one's jumping in front of that bullet. I'm pretty sure it's terribly written, but they whoever wrote it seems to have enough of a sense of words and phrases people do use that I do doubt myself a bit.

"There’s a reason why keyboards defined the 1980s; they rebelled against the very oppressive nature existing outside of the cultural company they kept. There’s resistance in electronic music that, while they brandish an aesthetic that, to a layman’s ears, seems like technicolor hues for any infectious pop track, it’s a genre that aches to tell its own story."

I mean, these are two of the worst examples, that second sentence trips over its clauses. Inserting an "in" as in "There's a resistance in electronic music in that, while they..." makes it possible to parse, but then you hit the fuck up after that comma where there's a shift from reference to "electronic music" to "they." This should read, "There's a resistance in electronic music in that, while brandishing an aesthetic that, to layman's ears, sounds [wait, they said 'seems' in their review? well, it should be 'sounds'] like technicolor hues for any"

We hit some more really bad phrasing there, "brandish an aesthetic that," "technicolor hues for any infectious pop track"

I was trying to just get to what a readable, properly copy edited version of what the writer was trying to express was, in order to critique their expression accurately, but the only way to arrive at anything you can make something of is throwing out sentences like those and starting again. There's 3000 fucking words of this.

"What separates The Tortured Poets Department from something like Reputation is that, on the latter, Swift made it known what was at stake and who she was making that album for—herself, in the aftermath of her greatest long-standing criticisms (“Look What You Made Me Do” triumphs exactly because of this)."

I can at least get what the writer is gesturing at meaning but "herself, in the aftermath of her greatest long-standing criticisms" is excruciating prose.

This is your big shot! You have the first red on metacritic harsh pan of the new Taylor Swift album! Eyes are on you, how are you blowing it this bad? I've seen those lyrics! How are you doing such a bad job landing hits? How much did somebody get paid to write this and was anybody paid to edit it?

[mermaidchan05]

Thunderstorm

Inspired by this amazing headcanon by @iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia​ ! The idea of Nadia loving storms just meshed so well with my Apprentice Chimalus who... decidedly does not love storms. 

Featured characters: Nadia, my oc Chimalus (they/them pronouns), their familiar Skye the Bluebird. 

Slghtly less than 3000 words. TW for thunderstorms and thunderstorm-induced panic attacks. (Also spoilers for/reference to one of Nadia’s paid scenes? Idk if it matters but just in case) 

_________________

Nadia set the last bit of paperwork aside. “I believe that’s all for today. I assume we all remember our duties?”

The assembled palace staff all gave a general murmur of assent. There were some excited whispers as well. They were all looking forward to either a relaxing evening or the entertaining activities that some were sure to whip up.

A storm raged outside. Rain pounded against the palace windows. Thunder rumbled through the air. Lightning split the sky. Which meant that it was the perfect time to continue a Prakran tradition. A rainy day meant a day for things to cool off for a bit, both figuratively and literally.

It was more of a Prakran Royal Family tradition. Whenever a storm hit Prakra, Nadia and her family would pause in their endless duties and enjoy one another’s company… as much as one could, at any rate. Nadia had never admitted it aloud—to do so would be far too embarrassing—but out of everything she had left behind in Prakra, she missed these moments the most. It was a blessing to be able to bring a semblance of the tradition back to Vesuvia.

It was almost a shame that rain came much more frequently in Vesuvia than Prakra. None could afford to take a rest day for every single drizzle, of course, but it was a bit frustrating to save these particular rest days for the right type of storm. Luckily, this was quite a storm. The absolute perfect day to settle down, if only for an evening. The perfect chance to enjoy the somewhat cooler temperatures and to appreciate a bit of peace and quiet with friends, family, and loved ones.

Over the past few years, many of her storm nights had been spent with Portia. They would read together, or perhaps introduce one another to some of their favorite childhood games, or Portia would hustle Nadia down to the kitchens for a baking lesson. But this time, Portia had plans with her family, and Nadia had someone else she was eager to share this wonderful tradition with.

Chimalus. The wonderful magician who had not only saved all of Vesuvia from the wrath of the Devil himself, but had utterly captivated Nadia’s heart. Chimalus, who was incredibly brave, endlessly loyal, quick-witted and kindhearted. Not to mention incredibly attractive, with an air about them that was far more noble than any one of those infuriating Courtiers.

It would truly be a blessing to spend some genuine quality time with Chimalus. They could find a cozy spot in the library to sit together and read, or Nadia could show Chimalus some of her favorite spots around the palace, or she could enlist their help in one of the many tinkering projects that she hadn’t quite had time to finish, or the two of them could visit the Contemplation Tower… there were so many possibilities.

There was only one problem with her plans. Nadia couldn’t find Chimalus anywhere.

Losing sight of one another was hardly an uncommon occurrence, sadly. Chimalus had their own duties to attend to, both as Royal Magician and as Nadia’s betrothed. They were often called upon to assist others around the palace, and they paid frequent visits to their old shop in the city. But Chimalus would always let Nadia know when they went to the shop. And when Nadia asked around, no one had seen them.

A spike of alarm shot through Nadia’s chest. Logically, she knew that Chimalus must have been perfectly fine.  Her intuition would have told her if something had gone wrong. Or there would have been some other sign. Chandra had been keeping a surprisingly close eye on them lately, she would have found some way to alert Nadia of any crisis…

But no amount of logic could slow Nadia’s frantic pace as she searched the palace for her love.

She didn’t even bother to check the garden, which was one of Chimalus’ usual haunts. No one would be out there in this weather. To her dismay, the library was empty. Chimalus’ favorite sitting room was suspiciously devoid of magicians. Chimalus’ chambers, the very same room that they had used as a mere guest what felt like a lifetime ago, were utterly deserted.

But the room wasn’t quite empty. Chimalus had left all of their things. IF they had planned to go out, they never would have gone without their bag, as it held far too many precious objects: magical supplies, their prized notebook, their tarot deck…

Unless they hadn’t planned on going anywhere.

Nadia was about to rally the guards for a full-scale search of Vesuvia when she heard a little chirp. A chirp that had grown nearly as familiar as Chandra’s hoots.

“Skye?” Nadia breathed.

Even if Chimalus had gotten into some kind of trouble, there was absolutely no chance that they would have been out there without their familiar. Skye, the sweetest and most charming bluebird in the world, would never abandon her human.

Which meant that Chimalus was somewhere close by. Very close.

Skye chirped again. Nadia turned toward the sound.

“Skye?” she called. “Chimalus? Are you…?”

She was cut short by another clap of thunder. It nearly shook the walls. Skye’s chirp was more like a shriek. And there was another sound, so sudden and quiet that Nadia nearly missed it.

A gasp of pure fear.

“Chimalus?”

Nadia carefully stepped around the bed. There, huddled in the corner between the bed and the wall, curled so closely in on themselves that Nadia had mistaken them for a pile of blankets, was Chimalus. Nadia couldn’t even see their lovely, deep blue hair; they had pulled the hood of their cloak so tightly over their head that they were completely obscured. They had even draped the fabric of their cloak over their knees, which were bundled up against their chest. A well-worn book was lying haphazardly on the floor in front of them. Clearly they had been trying to read before… whatever had happened that had caused them to fall into this state.

A thousand thoughts sped through Nadia’s mind, from illness to a horrible magical vision of a terrible future to some sort of attack. What could possibly drive Chimalus, the one who had stared down the Devil with hardly a wince, to be left like this?

Skye chirped again, drawing Nadia further forward. Nadia carefully reached out a hand.

“Chimalus...” 

No response. Skye bumped her tiny head against Chimalus’ hood, right where their cheek must have been. Chimalus curled in on themselves further, if that was possible.

Nadia let out a faint sigh. “My love, what’s…?”

Once again a crack of thunder cut her off. Skye chirped wildly again. And Chimalus visibly flinched, nearly throwing the little bluebird off of their shoulder by sheer accident.

And just like that, Nadia understood. Chimalus, clever, loyal, wonderful Chimalus, was terrified of thunder.

Nadia stepped forward, her hand still outstretched. She moved slowly, making sure not to add to her beloved’s fright. She called their name again, softly, gently, showing nothing but love and understanding. At last, Chimalus shifted, uncurling themself just the slightest bit.

“Nadi…” they choked out.

Nadia gave a reassuring smile. “Yes, my darling. I’m here.”

Chimalus let out a shaky sigh. “I’m sorry. I… I didn’t mean for you to—”

Another thunderclap. Another visceral flinch from Chimalus. Skye managed not to shriek this time, instead going back to gently headbutting her human.

Nadia carefully crouched down in front of Chimalus. “You never meant for… me to see you in this state?”

That got Chimalus to look up, to finally meet Nadia’s eye. Admittedly, they were more startled than anything else, but it was a good start. Nadia smiled softly.

“My goodness, Chimalus, something such as this will hardly make me think any less of you,” said Nadia.

Chimalus’ expression slowly shifted to something close to concern. “I… I wasn’t… I didn’t mean it like…” they sighed again, giving up. “I’m sorry. It’s… silly, isn’t it? I know it shouldn’t bother me. It’s just a storm, and we’re all inside, and we’re perfectly safe, and I’m sure there are a thousand emergency plans put in place just in case something—”

They cut themselves off with a sharp gasp and yet another wince as thunder clapped once more. They tugged their hood further over their head, burying their face in their clenched fists.

Nadia held back for just a moment. Before the thunder had frightened Chimalus all over again, the small rant they had begun had sounded almost like a mantra. It was as though they had repeated those exact words to themself countless times. As though they had tried to talk their way out of a fear that they couldn’t explain. As though their inability to rationalize their own fear made it all the more difficult to bear.

It was a sentiment that Nadia understood too well.

“Chimalus…” Nadia’s voice was as soft and gentle as a sigh. “May I hold you?”

Chimalus looked up, taken utterly by surprise. “I… of course. You know you don’t need to ask if you ever want to—”

Once again they were cut off. But this time it was by Nadia wrapping her arms around them and pulling them close. Chimalus let out a little gasp. For the span of three of their own rapid heartbeats, they were completely rigid. Then they let out a shaky breath. And they sank into Nadia’s embrace. They buried their face in her shoulder. Nadia thought that Chimalus may have been trembling slightly, though if that was from fear or hardly suppressed sobs, Nadia would never know. Not that it truly mattered. Nadia was simply glad to give them some kind of comfort.

“Chimalus,” Nadia said gently, “I assure you that you are perfectly safe. And I will never look down on you because of your fears. You are my sunlight, my heart, my past, my present, and my future. My love for you is not so fragile that it will shatter upon learning you are frightened of thunder.”

“Even though it’s a completely irrational fear?” Chimalus mumbled.

“We cannot control our own fears,” Nadia said gently. “Nor do we always have an explanation for them. And it is not only fears… may I share a secret with you? Since we seem to be learning new things about one another this evening.”

“Of course,” said Chimalus. “You can tell me anything.”

Nadia had to resist the urge to laugh. It would have been a fond laugh, naturally. Chimalus suddenly looked so serious that it was rather adorable. A fact that Nadia gladly would have explained, but her instincts assured her that this was not the time to laugh at her beloved, no matter what the reason behind it.

 Instead, she began her story. 

“When I was younger, I absolutely despised the color green,” she said conspiratorially.

Chimalus blinked up at her. “Green? But what about the emerald you gave me?”

“I did eventually overcome that particular bit of immaturity,” said Nadia, her smile playful. “Back then, however… to this day, I have no idea why I was so vehemently against the color. Prakra is known for its emeralds. One would think I would have a bit of pride for my homeland’s great treasure…”

 “You never were one to follow trends,” said Chimalus.

 Their voice still shook a bit. But a bit of their usual, teasing tone had returned.

Nadia’s smile grew. “No… I suppose I am not.”

Chimalus managed a smile in return. Then, playfully, they added: “Or maybe… it was because of Nasmira. Green’s kind of her color, isn’t it?”

For a split second, Nadia could only stare at Chimalus. Then she let out a laugh.

It was wonderful how, even in a moment like this, Chimalus always found a way to make her laugh.

“Why yes, of course,” Nadia teased. “Clearly I was unbearably jealous of Nasmira’s hair. Not to mention her fashion choices. That must be the answer. It seems the Mighty Chimalus has solved another mystery.”

Chimalus flushed, laughing awkwardly. “I don’t know about mighty, but—”

Their argument was drowned out by another clap of thunder. Chimalus winced. Nadia gave them a soft squeeze, drawing them back to the present.

 “I believe you are mighty,” she said gently. “Chimalus… we have not yet found the key to unlocking your past. It is possible that there is some unknown history behind your fear. Or perhaps there is truly no deeper reason behind it at all. It makes little difference in the end. You are still courageous, caring, and wonderful in every way. And I still love you and wish to bring you whatever comfort I can.”

Chimalus sank back into her embrace. “This is… good. More than good. Thank you, Nadia.”

“You’re very welcome,” said Nadia. She placed a gentle kiss on their forehead. ��Remember that you can turn to me whenever you may need me, no matter how small or silly the problem may seem. Just as I know I can always depend on you.” Her eyes twinkled with humor. “We are knights in matching armor, after all. Are we not?”

That earned her a small laugh. It was soft, but it was completely genuine.

 “Yeah…” said Chimalus. “We are.”

From her new perch on the bed frame, Skye chirped approvingly.

Nadia and Chimalus stayed like that for a long moment. Neither of them were sure how long it was. All they knew was that, whenever another strike of thunder tried to interrupt, Chimalus didn’t flinch quite as badly. 

Eventually, Nadia pulled back just enough to shift her grip so that she held Chimalus’ hand. Then she stood, half-dragging Chimalus along with her.

Chimalus stared. “Nadi, what…?”

“Come along, my love,” said Nadia. “It is much more difficult to hear the sounds of the storm from the kitchens. And if you’d like, I’m sure we could whip something up for ourselves.”

Chimalus frowned a bit, confused. “We can whip something up?”

 “Why, yes,” said Nadia. “I allowed the majority of the staff the remainder of the evening off. I thought I had mentioned… ah, perhaps you are not comfortable with cooking? I apologize, I should have asked—”

 “No, I can cook,” said Chimalus. “I just thought that—”

 “Then let us begin,” said Nadia.

She playfully dragged Chimalus out of the room, leaving Skye swooping behind.

Sure enough, it was relatively more quiet down in the kitchens. And though it was empty, there were more than enough supplies to start a good cooking fire, and a few ingredients had been left out in the open.

Nadia clucked her tongue. “I had thought they would show a bit more care after our last storm…”

“Nadi?” Chimalus asked. “What’s wrong?”

Nadia shook her head. “No matter. I’m sure we can make something out of this.”

She swept further into the kitchens. Chimalus trailed behind her, taking a look at what the cooks had left behind. Nadia gathered everything up: a bowl of greens, a small roast that had apparently not been roasted yet… and there, shoved in the back of a nearly empty cupboard, was a small but decent loaf of bread.

“It’s hardly the makings of a feast, but I suppose this will do,” Nadia declared.

Chimalus cleared their throat. “Nadi, do the cooks… always leave things like this behind?”

“Not always, to my knowledge,” said Nadia. “Though they tend to leave this sort of mess behind more often than I would like…”

“Try not to worry about it too much,” said Chimalus with a little laugh. “And you’re right. We can certainly make something out of these. And… I think they may have… forgotten to set out some desserts after lunch.”

Chimalus reached into another cabinet and pulled out two small plates. One held an immaculate tea cake, the exact type that Nadia requested whenever she and Chimalus had the rare opportunity to relax on the veranda. The other held a lovely little fruit tart: one of Chimalus’ favorites.

Nadia smirked. “Well, now. It would be a shame to let those go to waste, wouldn’t it?”

 “It certainly would,” said Chimalus.

Skye chirped loudly. Chimalus laughed.

“Don’t worry, Skye, I’m sure we can dig up some sunflower seeds for you.” Chimalus rolled up their sleeves. “So… shall we get cooking?”

 Nadia couldn’t help it. Chimalus was so wonderful, and their smile was so adorable, that she laughed.

“Of course.” Nadia rolled up her sleeves as well. “Let us get cooking.’”

With Chimalus assisting, it turned out that they could make a lovely little meal out of the assorted ingredients. All the while, Chimalus was so focused on their task that they hardly flinched at any rumble of thunder. Each sound seemed more and more distant than the last. Though if Chimalus wanted to use the noise as a reason to hold Nadia’s hand a bit more often than usual… well, Nadia didn’t mind in the least.

All in all, she was very glad she was able to invite Chimalus to share in this lovely tradition.