#I forget that I cannot pause time and take as long as I need to respond

[sm-writes-chaos]

my ocs really are just facets of myself holy ezerk

[giuliettagaltieri]

Claim the Heritage

Pairing: President!Coriolanus Snow x First Lady!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: The Wife

Warning: casual dominance, marital quarrels, tension, vulnerability, explicit smut, cunnilingus, p in v, unprotected sex, body worship, brat taming, self destructive tendencies

Word Count: 4364

6 of 6

Coriolanus Snow has a knack of pushing himself too far.

He expects too much from himself and does everything in his power to meet those expectations.

As a student and a starting politician, he has done great things, contributing fresh insights to Panem.  And now that he is the President, he has the power to do things with his own hands.  No longer having to need the approval of people of higher status, not when he’s the President, nobody has power greater than his.

You worry that he might be forgetting his other responsibilities.

He is after all, not just Mister President but also your husband.

You see him often in the corridors and you exchange nothing more than sultry glances.  It was fun the first time you have done it but you are left wanting now.

At night, the two of you come home late, too tired to get some action going.

You have needs that long to be fulfilled.

And your unfed desires manifested in your temper.

The men in the room are discussing the recent power outage that paralyzed Panem for a day.  A malfunction caused by severe water temperatures in the hydroelectric dam in District 5 caused a cascading error in the system.  The Capitol and a portion of District 1 and 2 were able to continue their operation due to generators but the other Districts suffered from it.  And the one day pause of labor caused a slight drop to Panem’s stock charts.

All eight of your husband’s subordinates are trying to raise their opinions about the matter, how they will conduct another investigation as they are quite convinced it was human error, and how they will punish the one responsible for it too.

Their voices are starting to irritate you, making you tap your foot under the desk.  Coriolanus seems to be ignoring them as he reads through the report.  How he can manage to focus, you have absolutely no idea.

You try to regain your composure by taking a sip of water but it does not help, not one bit.  Deep intakes of breath also seem to be not working.

Coriolanus is still reading the report, his back against his chair as one of his hands toy with his pen.  His fingers are looking rather breathtaking today.

You look away before anyone could notice your desperation.

“Frankly, you are all arguing about matters that have been resolved already.”  He murmurs and you are thankful for it as the room quiets down.

“What do you mean sir?”

You bite your cheek to stop yourself from berating the man.  But Coriolanus can see that arch in your brow any day.  You are pissed.

“You have something to say, wife?”  He smiles knowingly at you and you look at him sharply but his smile only widens more.

“Well, all of you are being foolish!”  You finally burst.  Coriolanus leans back in his chair as if he is watching a rather interesting show.  “There is a report given, and a very good one at that.  Do you all have poor reading comprehension that you cannot understand that this is not a human error!”

The room falls silent as the men stare at you with their cheeks pinking in embarrassment.

Coriolanus clears his throat and leans closer to his desk.  “I believe what the Missus wants to say is that we must be coming up with solutions to prevent this from happening again rather than point fingers.”

You glare at him again but Coriolanus is not looking at you but the men who are nodding in agreement.  You hear a chorus of apologies from the men and you can’t help your bottom lip from jutting out in irritation.

“We can strengthen the system.  A collaboration with District 3, perhaps?”  A man says nervously, eyes flitting to you for approval but you don’t acknowledge him.

The other men raise their support.  They have to stay in your good graces.  All eight of them are dispensable.  If you talk to your husband to eliminate them, there will be nothing they can do.

They are proud men, but they too are necessary associates, albeit shortsighted at times.

You lean on your chair and swivel it so you are partially facing your husband.  “Another source of power.”

He nods at you to continue.

“A solar plant.”  You say.  “It is a good back up.”

Coriolanus rubs his chin and considers it for a moment.  “Indeed.  May I ask you to write a proposal, my love?”

“Of course.”  You say and you begin tidying up your stuff.  Coriolanus picks it up and addresses the men in general.

“I appreciate your…enthusiasm in helping our great nation.  Good day, gentlemen.”

They all file out of the room, thanking the President and you.  They all seem to sweat when you dismiss them with nothing but a brief nod.

Coriolanus leaves his chair and he eyes the pout in your lips. 

“Have a great day.”  You say as you stand.

“Leaving so soon?”  He raises a brow.

You stop in your tracks to look at him weirdly.  “You asked me to write a proposal?”

He hums at this and presses a chaste kiss on your lips.  “I will be seeing you at lunch, then.”  He guides you to the door and you both exit the meeting room to go to your separate offices.

His behavior is really really starting to irk you.

You are lying if you were not hoping that he would stop you and at least help out with the tension in your body.

But you guess not, he is a busy guy after all.

Coriolanus buries himself more and more with work.

You worry that he might be close to self-destruction.

The crops in District 9 suffered from a locust infestation and it kept him up very late for a few weeks.

You started to miss him very much.  Try as you might to stay awake in your room, it is not until nearly sunrise when he joins you.

It hurts and you hate yourself for being selfish.

One morning as you share your breakfast, you notice that he is barely touching his food as he reads the report about the red tide poisoning in District 4.

“Corio, eat.”  You say before your lips wrap around a strawberry.

He only hums in response as he flips to the next page of the report.

You glance at him and see the dark circles under his eyes, his skin looking dehydrated, and it is evidenced by the cracks in his lips.

“You will die before you turn thirty if you keep that up.”  You say lowly before you suck on your finger absentmindedly, your eyes now scanning your bowl for the next strawberry you’ll eat.

This caught his attention.

“What did you just say?”  There was a challenge in his voice and you hesitate for a moment, heart wanting to submit and apologize but the Swansworth blood courses through your veins and you fear you will shame the strong women before you if you fold so easily.

You look at him dead in the eye.  “You will die before you turn thirty if you keep that up.”  You smile at him sweetly.  “Was that clear enough for you, or do I have to repeat myself again?”

His jaw tightens, his eyes sharp.  He does not take mentions of his death lightly.  Had you been anyone else, you would have your tongue cut off and live as an Avox.

“You really are your father’s daughter.”  He sighs, trying his best to hide the amused smile you put on his face.

You wanted to retort but your words die in your tongue.  Coriolanus glances up at you when you don’t speak.  Usually, you would have bitten another comment at him.  But you were only looking at your strawberries sadly, finger tracing the bowl that held them.

The sound of paper crinkling had you looking up.  He folded the report away, he had the necessary information he needed anyway.  Coriolanus knows you are watching him and he scoops a mouthful of truffle scrambled eggs.  You gave him the sweetest smile he had seen on your face for weeks, and it was motivation enough for him to eat the breakfast that was served to him.  Yet, he still finishes first.

You pout unknowingly when he wipes his lips with the napkin and walks over to kiss your forehead.

“I will be seeing you later for your report.”

“See you.”  You reply with less enthusiasm.

He watches how sadness swam in your eyes and he leans closer to peck your lips and he is off.

You did not have much energy for work afterwards.

The meeting was at 10 in the morning and you arrived in the meeting room at 10:02.  Coriolanus was not pleased.

He did not back you up when the other men in the room asked questions about your presentation.  It was their job to pick apart your proposal and you only show them how flawless it is.  They are finally satisfied with it after a while, your throat burning from how many questions they asked.

You are infuriated with your husband.  You feel like he is throwing you to the wolves.  Not that you can’t tame the said wolves but it made your blood boil.

“I have decided to call this solar plant, Coriolanus 9.”  You attempt a smile and they actually bite.  “In honor of our President, and us.”  You purposefully let yourself blend in with the men in this proposal.  You need to boost their morale from time to time.

All eight of them murmur their agreement, smiles wide as they feel honored just by being included in the project.

After a few more questions from them, your husband finally adjourns the meeting.

His lack of support was not appreciated and you are determined to get out of this stuffy meeting room.

“Gentlemen, that would be all.”  

What about you?

Your lips part in protest but Coriolanus raises a finger at you, making you close your mouth as you narrow your eyes at him.

After the men filed out, you got up briskly, your chair wheeling back in a great speed.

“Careful.”

“Oh, so you’re talking now?”  You snap, your hand placed on your hip.

Coriolanus only leans on his chair as he looks you in the eye, his chin tilted upwards.

“I am…”  he pauses as he scratches his chin.  “upset with you.”

You scoff.  “You are upset with me? I am upset with you!”  You point at him harshly.  “You were the one who asked me to make a proposal and present it afterwards!  But what did you do?  You did not support me or give me assurance!”

“I was confident in your proposal.”  Coriolanus stands up calmly, his hands in his pockets, his thumb jutting out.

You give him one final glare and you huff, turning your nose up as you look away.  “I am done talking to you today.”

Coriolanus grips your arm before you can walk away.

His hand is warmer than usual and you frown.

“Do you need me to put you in your place?”  

The threatening growl in his voice washed away all the fight in you.

You bite your lip nervously, the entire bottom lip disappearing behind a row of teeth.  You shake your head and you tear up from how pathetic you have become for this man.

He smooths your hair and places a warm kiss against your temple.  “Be good.”  He murmurs.

You watch him collect his things and he throws you one final warning glance and he exits the meeting room.  Your hands grip the hardwood table to steady yourself.

How dare he!

You are his wife, not some District whore that needs to be reprimanded, you will not allow such disrespect again!

Coriolanus is not surprised to see you miss lunch.  His assistant tells him that you are having luncheon with Mrs. Plinth.  And that…you canceled all your plans for the day.  And the rest of the week.

He taps a finger on his desk and wonders if he pushed you too far earlier. 

Coriolanus glances at your photo in his desk.  Your smile was brighter then.  

A slight pounding in his head makes him grimace and he groans.

There were two more bills he needed to get through before he could relax.  Coriolanus inhales sharply, forcing his eyes to read through the files.

It was night time when he came home.  He missed dinner again.

Coriolanus had an unsettling feeling in his stomach when he entered your home.  It was dark and cold.

There was enough security outside but no signs of life inside.

Your servants usually retire after dinner and come back only in the mornings to serve you your breakfast.

But where are you?

Coriolanus doubles his steps to check your bedroom, you are not there.

His heart starts pounding, cold sweat dripping from his temple as he runs around his mansion in his tight suit.  He wanted to ask the peacekeepers stationed outside if you are even in your mansion when he catches a glimpse of your sheer robe in your sunroom.  He steps closer and sees you there, asleep in your plush chair, curled up around a book.

For a moment, he just stares at you, calming himself down.  No one has taken you and you did not leave.  Coriolanus seats himself to the identical chair across you and just looks at the rise and fall of your chest.

You must have fallen asleep as you were having your afternoon read.  It appears you might have missed dinner, as none of the lights are on.  The servants must have left it off so as to not disturb your sleep.

The night deepens and he just sits there, still convincing himself that you are still with him.

Coriolanus believes he will be there until morning comes but fate has other plans and your book slips from your hold, the hardcover making a loud slamming noise against the otherwise silent evening.

You jolt awake from the noise and when you reach for it, you catch a glimpse of him and you jolt for the second time.

“Heavens!”  You clutch your chest tightly, your eyes glaring accusingly at him.  “Do not scare me like that!”

He laughs hollowly.

“Apologies.”  He mutters.

You lean back in your chair, holding your book in your lap.

“Have you eaten your dinner?”  You ask just to break the silence.

“Not yet and neither did you.”  He uncuffs his sleeves and loosens his tie.

You purse your lips.  “I had tea and cakes this afternoon.”

“When did tea and cakes pass as dinner?”  He drapes his waistcoat on the armrest together with his tie.

You choose not to answer as you have a feeling the question was rhetorical.

Coriolanus rests his arms on his thighs and clasps his hands as the silence lengthens.  Moonlight was emitting a pale glow, it reflected on your faces and everything else was still.

“My father casts a very large shadow.”  He tells you.

You nod.  You both have that in common.  But you do not want to tell him as his case was different.  You are aware of his struggle while growing up, the things he has done that could have tarnished his name, and now, he has become the President, a leader of Panem, and the footsteps that his father left for him to follow might be too large for him.

“I wanted to do everything right.  To do things how he would have done it.  Maybe even more.”

You play with the edges of your book as you listen, afraid that if you’ll talk, his walls will come building itself up again.

“He was not the best father.  Nor husband.”  He chuckles bitterly.  “I was sure, I would be just like him too.”

You bite your lip as you will yourself not to cry in front of him.

“But I enjoy your company, wife.”  Coriolanus tells you truthfully.  “I love you.”  He confesses, making your chest tighten.  “I do not wish for this marriage to fail.”

You cannot help how a tear rolls down your cheek.

“Come here.”  He commands and you throw yourself to him, sobbing to his chest.  “I am terribly sorry for being a lousy husband.”

Your tears soak his dress shirt as Coriolanus peppers kisses on your head.

“Been neglecting my wife, how awful of me.”  His hand grips on your bum possessively.  “When she should have been worshiped day by day.”  His tone changes ever so slightly into something you hear only inside your bedroom walls.

You do not protest when he lays you on the chaise lounge.  Your sobs turn to sniffles when Coriolanus parts your thighs and bunches your dress until it shows your abdomen.

“Corio.”  You whisper his name like a prayer and he mumbles yours against your skin.  You watch as he plants his lips on your scar.  A scar that you got from taking a bullet for him.

It was not the last time you whispered his name in the dead of the night.

“Your petals always have the sweetest nectar.”  He groans and you feel yourself shy away, hips hiking up and away from him but his arms tighten their hold around your thighs and he looks at you from there, his eyes giving you a silent warning.

“S-sorry-ah!”  You gasp as his tongue darts out to lick the juices off your slit.  His tongue pokes at your pearl and you break eye contact with him when he wraps his lips on your tiny nub.

Coriolanus looks at you with his eyes now lazy but his tongue, the opposite!

He kisses you and in an act of total impulsiveness, starts tracing his name on your clit.  Coriolanus Snow was owning you in every way possible.

He had you reduced to your most carnal self.  Your hands were on his platinum hair, gripping them tightly in your hold, selfishly pulling him in.  Your thighs are resting on his broad shoulders.  And your cunt, it was making a mess on your chaise lounge and on your husband’s face.

Coriolanus groans as he parts your lips so he could kiss your opening.  His thick finger, that you have been craving, sliding on your juices before he plunges it knuckle-deep.  It might have been a mistake on his part given your sensitivity after having to be forced to join him in his self-induced celibacy.  Your lewd mewl brought rouge to his cheeks.

You bring your hands to your mouth to hush yourself and Coriolanus took that as a challenge.  He sits up, sitting on his ankles to press your thigh to your chest as his finger prods at you from the inside.

You are writhing underneath him.  Telling him how good he is making you feel.  Oh, and he reveled in it.  Every sound that comes from your lips, it fueled his desire more and more.

A second finger was added and you shriek from the stretch, it has been a while, he needs to be more gentle!  But Coriolanus cannot help himself when you look so pretty.  Your cheeks wet with tears, eyelashes clumping up, as your hands formed tiny fists.  Any form of his self control has disappeared when you are gushing and pulsating around his fingers.

He knows you’re nearly there, so close!

You pant, closing your eyes as his fingers massaged your walls, coaxing you to climb higher and higher and-

“Coriolanus!”  You yell furiously when he pulls his fingers out.

Your husband grins at you as he wipes his face from your slick.

“I seem to recall that someone was not a very good girl this morning?”  His hands trailed at your hips and you almost tear up from frustration.

He was supposed to be making it up to you!  He had no reason to bring up the events this morning.

In an act of defiance, you huff and you reach your own sex to flick at your clit.  Your fingers are more delicate, making you gasp at the gentle pleasure.

Coriolanus grins as he watches you play with yourself.  Enjoying how you grow more and more frustrated as you cannot give yourself the same pleasure.  You shriek angrily as you pull your fingers away, you slam your tiny feet on the chaise and Coriolanus laughs. 

“Are you done being a brat?”

You are too stubborn to answer but you do not stop him when he maneuvers you until you are on your stomach, you groan softly in discomfort when he pulls your hips so your cunt is presented to him beautifully.

His fingers are prodding your entrance again and you mewl when he pops his tip in.   Coriolanus stays there for a moment as his hands, rough from his time as a peacekeeper, grips on your waist firmly.

“There’ll be no stopping, alright?”  He reminds you.  “We’re done when I say we’re done.”

You lift your head from the plush of the chaise lounge and you give him a nod. 

“Put your head back down, my love.”

You do as he tells you and you brace yourself.

Coriolanus enters you with a sharp thrust, and your whimper is muffled by the cushions.  Your husband thrusts at a steady speed, his eyes watching the impact ripple on your body.

Your breath hitches with every kiss his tip makes on your cervix.  Every slap of his hips against you makes the crudest sound, sending a jolt of arousal through you.  President Snow is a man of the most refined of tastes, the pinnacle of order.  But when he beds you, he is just as raw, just as unrestrained.

“Don’t know why I deprived myself of your wet cunt for so long.”  And his mouth spewing the most vulgar of things.

He uses his weight to push you further in the mattress so he can fuck you deeper.  Your cunt spasms and you moan shakily, almost sobbing.

“Chase it, my love.”  He groans deeply.

And you unravel, lewd sobs spilling from your polished tongue as your back arches, cunt creaming around his cock.

Coriolanus watches you sob, your shoulders shaking as his thrusts do not relent.  His eyes flicker to where your bodies meet, your warm juices are dripping on his taut sack.

“Corio…Corio please!  I don’t think I can anymore….”

“Hm?”  He reaches to grab your chin.  “Thought I told you that we’re only done when I say so?”

You look at him with tears sliding down your cheeks.  You can’t even focus on him, body shuddering when your tummy feels another tight coil.

Coriolanus inhales sharply when he feels the familiar pulsation of your warm softness.

His tip twitches as it bumps your plump cervix.  And when you call his name with your broken voice as you cum, he shoots his seed in you.

“Hah…hah.”  

He is panting from on top of you, his hand placed against your bottom to keep himself up.

Coriolanus gently pulls himself out, watching the gossamer webbing of your arousal on his cock.  He smacks your bum and you tighten your cunt to keep his seed from spilling.  He scoots closer so he is holding you, your back against his chest as your legs tangled together.

The two of you gaze at the moon from the enormous windows of your sunroom.  It was calm again.  Nothing but your heartbeats and the gentle breathing lulling each of you closer to sleep.

“Corio.”  You call his name softly.

He hums in response as he pulls you closer, just needing to feel you against him.

“The people of Panem are not your fucking masters.”

His brows meet and he glances at you, wondering where all of this is coming from.

“They cannot have you always cleaning up their mess like you are some District servant.”

He shifts you so you are facing him now.  His stern brows meet to let you know you are on thin ice.

“You govern your people.  You don’t coddle them.  Let the District officials do their job.  They must learn to solve their own problems and the Capitol Bureaucrats must see to it that they are doing it in ways that align with your judgment.  And you lead them from the top.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

You yawn like the adorable thing you are.  “So Snow lands on top.”

He clicks his tongue smoothly.  “You are only attracted to power.”

“My love.”  You say rather darkly.  “You are power.”

Coriolanus falls silent, contemplating your words, letting himself process it.

He sighs as he looks at you in endearing defeat.  “You just want a vacation, don’t you?”

You fight back a smile as you smack his chest.

“I am being serious, Coriolanus Snow.”

He pulls you closer, teeth glinting as he snickers.  “I understand that, Y/N Snow.”

“Y/N Swansworth-Snow.”  You remind him and he laughs.

“Of course, of course.”

You lean your head on his chest and your cheek soaks his warmth.

“You know, you are not your father, Corio.”

He winces.  “I know…I’m just-”

“You are better.”

That sinks deep in him.

He now understands why there was something in you that pulled him in.  No one in Panem, or in this world, could understand his soul in its most naked form.  You are his stability.  Someone whom he cannot scare away when he is darkest.

Because it seems like you might be exactly just like him.  Just as cruel, just as evil, with no regards to anyone but each other.

And he is fine with that, even if the world is burned to ash around you.

“My love for you is catastrophic.”  Coriolanus murmurs against your skin and you smile as you close your eyes.

You run your finger on his chest.  “And my love for you is all-consuming.”

Coriolanus and you are obsessive, ablazed with reckless passion, villainous in nature, but it is easy to justify when you are both equally drunk with dangerous devotion.

The people of Panem be damned.  

The odds will forever be in your favor.

Hunt for Glory

[skyscrapergods]

has being fucking Massive and Immortality changed the alicorns’ perspective on regular ponies? I imagine they’d get more condescending and distant and stuff

You are surrounded by flies. If you pause, and look closely, you realize the flies are iridescent, with deeply colorful eyes, and beautiful wings like stained glass. It cannot see the colorful windows of your world, but you can try to describe them. But know that doing so take up the creature's precious time. Years to them is mere hours to you. In a long conversation about the stars, you and the fly share ideas and perspectives. You come away delighted with a new view on constellations and what they mean to the common folk.

The fly comes away dazzled, haunted, and halfway to the grave. What was to you a wonderful conversation was years of study, communion, and dedication on the part of the small creature. He gave up any other pursuits, he constructed his life around this cause. He lost his friends, family, and home. You lost your lunch break.

You love this creature. You love the small being that you once were. You want to talk to him again. You want to tell him of the stars, of dreams... but to speak with him twice, at least meaningfully, would take from him the rest of his life. Could you demand that from him for the sake of your own curiosity? Years passed for him already. In the time it took you to draw a breath, his childhood ended. Do you summon him again? Or do you let him go to live his life, what's left of it?

It is painful for everyone. It hurts something in your chest, it breaks the heart of a god. It wounds his family to watch him leave them behind for the sake of what? A mere whim? He had ambitions! He had a story! It's all gone now. Rewritten for your musings.

You leave him. He cries for you but he needs not a goddess. He needs to live, to turn from the sky to his fellow bugs.

That's what he is. A fly. A mere insect to you. To hold him down is to pin him through his soft center, and display his corpse as a record of his extinction.

So look away. Forget the color of his eyes, the sound of his voice, and the intelligence that stirred you to pluck him out his world and keep him in yours. There, he would be a wildflower with a cut stem. He would be beautiful, but he is so small, and so quiet. He would be just a decoration on your table; made to dance and sing for your amusement and then tossed out with the rubbish when he breaks.

You miss him. You love him. But he is a crawling worm and you are the rain. There are many others like him, but you must be careful to only speak a few words to each. Or better yet, say nothing at all. Let them fade and mix into a writhing blur without name, stories, or opinions on stars.

You are surrounded by flies.

[pseudowho]

Thinking about...

...long-term 'too comfortable' relationships with the JJK guys, when all the weird/gross/silly things creep in.

Pinning Gojo Satoru against a wall, having spotted an enormous pimple on his chin that you just have to get: "there's nothing wrong with m-- how dare you-- ow ow ow get off me--" "don't be such a melt, Satoru, keep still, that absolutely cannot stay on your face--"

Sitting on the toilet and chatting with Nanami Kento while he showers, and he wordlessly hands you a fresh toilet roll from the cabinet while he brushes his teeth; "thank you Kento" "mmmmmhm" and you continue chatting while you pee, leaving the bathroom door open. You forget to get off the toilet, so he brings you your tea there, while you continue to tell him about your day.

Laughing at Geto Suguru as he steps out of the bathroom after a bit of manscaping; "no no no-- go and get your razor, you're all patchy" "ah shit, really?" "yeah, you look like you've got a really bad gardener" "at least I try to trim the hedges..."

Plucking Fushiguro Toji's back hairs out one at a time; "OW-- dammit woman, stop doin' it like you hate me--" "--look, if you keep getting hairier, I'll just wax you instead, you're such a bear--" "--alright alright, I'll get your little witchy chin hair after--" "hey!"

Calling out to Okkotsu Yuuta while you're stuck on the toilet, blood over your hands and panties; "hey, Yuuta! Can you grab me some new underwear, and a pad?" "Sure!" Yuuta shuffles back to you, unfazed, as you hand him your bloodied panties to put in the laundry basket, "that bad, huh? You got enough stuff to last you?" "actually, I might need you to run to the shops..."

Creeping up behind Zenin Maki while she washes her bras in the sink, dropping a few of your own ones in, pressing a sloppy kiss to her cheek; "hey, hey, I'm not your washer woman" "yeah you are, such a beautiful washer woman" "psh...you're doing them next time"

Takuma Ino smiling as you curl on the sofa beside him in slummy old pyjamas full of holes (an ancient t-shirt of his, joggers you've had for at least ten years...), and you let out a fart; "sorry, sorry..." "don't be, I know you can do better than that" and Takuma lets one rip himself, sighing with relief.

Dropping your toothbrush down the toilet at Higuruma Hiromi's house; "ah, shit!" "oh, damn...just use mine" "eurgh, I'm not doing that!" "darling, be reasonable, I eat your pussy, we share much more--" "that's different--" "well by all means then, my love, enjoy your toilet toothbrush..."

Catching Todo Aoi taking a swig of milk out of the carton; "get a glass, jesus!" "whatever babe, it's just me and you here" "that is disgusting, unsanitary" "oh? I'll show you disgusting and unsanitary...c'mere"

When Kugisaki Nobara steps out of the bedroom, wearing your panties; "hey, they're my favourite!" "well they're my favourite too..." "yeah, on me! Get them off-- get back here--" and you dart after her, Nobara laughing as you try to pull your underwear off her, "help, help, I'm being assaulted!"

Catching Itadori Yuuji giving himself a scratch and sniff; "you absolute goblin-- go wash your hands!" Yuuji darts after you, laughing, his hand outstretched as you screech, ducking and running past him; "what, this hand? Come back baby! Where you goin'?"

Telling Fushiguro Megumi every single time you need to poop; "pause the movie! Gotta go poop," and he absolutely returns the favour, sitting on the toilet while you're taking a bath , "I'd wait...but I can't" "alright alright, just don't stink the place out" "I don't make promises I can't keep"

[bunji-enthusiast]

One Whole, Became Two

Note || this took me so long to write, but I love this stupid idiot platonically. Chapter three my sleep-deprived folks 👍🏻

WC || 3,312

<(part 1)><(previous part)><(you are here)>

Sypnosis || you bring back a dear old dead heart to a wounded dog.

If someone ever told you that you would’ve come back to a desolate factory full of death and damnation you would tell them that in what world in which would that happen? You never would’ve heeded their words.

Oh, how wrong you were.

You hated being wrong.

Yet, many things may have happened, some of which allowed you to get in some exercise… you also gained some new friends. They are very near and dear to you, despite the small numbers you retain in your ragtag group of allies. You preferred the terminology friends, you’ve gotten close with Kissy Missy and Poppy, even DogDay too!

Speaking of which, this accursed Playcare was still a little too dark for your liking. You needed more power, more light to go the right way necessary. A light chuckle breaks you out of your thoughts, “A-angel, do you need some help?” DogDay inquired, watching as you had tried to remember which way he had pointed to the medical station.

You shook your head egregiously, trying to affirm your belief as you spoke, “I got it… I swear I know which way it is!” Your shoulders slumped as you let out a defeated sigh, having to hate asking him for help.

Asking for help wasn’t necessarily your most favorite thing in the world, in for the most of miniscule of things. You thought it was ridiculous, insipid to do, in no way would you ever ask for said help unless you really were struggling.

Apparently as of right now, these were one of those moments that you were truly struggling, and it was with directions as well. You couldn’t be any more ashamed, “Could you m-maybe tell me where it was again?”

DogDay let out an amused bark, not merely in making fun of you. He thought you were just cute, the way you were embarrassed, though DogDay will never actually admit this feeling to you. “Okay, Angel, you see that sign over there? It points to the direction of the medical station.” Your large companion points to the sign in question, you sorely cannot miss it no way, his paw was big. Actually, it’s nearly the size of your head.

“Ah, focus!”

The pathway was riddled with broken cobblestone and dirt, but do-able to make your way through. You just hated broken paths, no trouble still.

You nod to let him know you saw it, walking over to the sign that was now a few pacings away from you. The silence had now settled in place for the lack of conversation, it was seemingly getting awkward enough as is. Suddenly, a new voice interjects on the radio of your walkie-talkie.

“Oh there you are! I wasn’t able to connect to you on that side of the dome!” His light voice carried an undercurrent of worry. “No ouchies or lost body parts?”

DogDay raised a brow as you two had continued making your way to the medical station. You nodded your head curtly, as if angling your head to signify you’d explain the kid on the radio at a later time. You spoke out in reply, knowing full well you weren’t in any real danger at the moment, “I’m uh, I’m fine Ollie. Just taking care of a friend, they got hurt… real bad.” A wince left your throat at the tone you carried within your words, you didn’t expect that.

A thought rushed into your head, “Why’d I word it like that? I guess I’m just worried about revealing DogDay to Ollie just yet.” DogDay patted your leg as to reassure you, eyes gleaming as if they were smiling down upon you. 

“Alright, you can introduce me later,” Ollie paused, as if he were hesitating to get the words out of his mouth. As if something was holding him back from doing so, “Take care of them first then I’ll tell you what to do next. See you!”

Then, the radio was now silent. You let out a breath you held in your lungs, sometimes forgetting to breathe reminds you to even breathe manually. An odd habit but nobody will nitpick that for the life of all there is to know and exist. 

An abrupt cough shocked you out of your thoughts, you immediately became concerned for DogDay who had been patiently waiting for your dilemma and conversation to end. You knelt down and checked over his body, “No need to worry.” You lodged his resistance in the back of your head, looking for any external wounds beside the most obvious ones. 

“I shouldn’t have stopped.” You murmur, gently picking him up. There was no way you’d let him drag himself along the floor, not until he was in a better state.

“We’re alright Angel,” DogDay sputtered, you were unimpressed, not phased by his words. “Really… but who was that if I may ask?” 

Steadily, you continued walking–the stupid medical station finally in reach. “Ollie, apparently sometime after I dropped down here he told me he was an ally of Poppy.” You then trailed off, not sure if you wanted to mansplain the entirety of the story down right to when you came across DogDay. Sighing, you begrudgingly open the door to the station.

The room was messy, akin to the state of many other locations in Playcare. But in your modest opinion, you truly did not care about that. You just really needed to fix up DogDay, and he was the focal point of your attention right now. “Angel, you seemed to be incredibly bothered.” 

DogDay shifted on the weight of his body as you began setting him down, if you were being truthful, you couldn’t refute that very fact. Yet you felt too angry to get the words across, “I know, I.. I guess this stupid factory just has me all on edge.”

Then a silence settled into place, as neither of you were unsure of what to say next. Everything and nothing was happening all at the same time. You walked over the ruined carpet, it looked as if it was made in the 1980’s. Some doors seemed to be torn off of it’s hinges, but at least the supplies were barely stolen. There was enough to treat DogDay properly, as much as you can manage within your knowledge anyway.

The hard part would be treating DogDay, (as you unfortunately didn’t have enough knowledge medically) and getting him his legs back so he could walk on his own as well. 

Gently, you opened a door to a closet, full of bandages and gauze. 

“Perfect timing, guess I didn’t need to look that hard.” You thought to yourself, your hands already grabbing the bandages and gauze. A small smile graced your cracked lips, carrying a genuine air with you, “Hey, DogDay I found some supplies. Looks like they left this place pretty untouched.” You waved at him, holding the aforementioned supplies in hand. 

DogDay perked up from where he had been looking at some stray medical papers, most likely files of every patient to come in and out of the station. “Oh!.. Thank you greatly. You really are an angel my friend.” You become bashful at his words, an embarrassed chuckle leaving you as you scratched the back of your head. Standing up you walk back over to the large dog, motioning for DogDay to position himself to where you can get to all the spots correctly.

You sighed, having to take a moment in order to set yourself into focus, this was important. You didn’t want to screw up something so crucial to DogDay’s health, “Ok, This might hurt a little so bear with me.” You warn, crouching down as you laid out the supplies.

“I have no doubt you will do fine!” DogDay encouraged you, settling down to be calmer for you. Fine, yes you can do fine. Okay well enough maybe, you just need to be careful!

Why was this so difficult?

“Stupid brain, Stop giving me all these thoughts!” You groan lowly, setting into place to mend his more major wounds with a contemporary suture. First off, you needed to clean the suture, to which you had quickly done. 

You gently pressed a wet rag to the most prominent area, cleaning it out of any debris that might be left behind in the wound. DogDay was simply listening and quiet upon your actions, clearly a little too impressed for your liking. You swabbed the wound with water then threw away the rag a few meters from you, you internally winced at that. 

Injuries are a major case for you ever since you stepped foot into this factory, you just never expected to be having to treat another person (or toy for that matter). 

“Angel?” You let out a hum in reply, suturing the wound as he spoke. “You seem… incredibly bothered, maybe you should try to talk about it.” DogDay shifted slightly, wincing a little as he had done so. Concern washes over your expression as you went to hold him, he held out a hand to reassure you he was fine.

“Well.”

You sat back on the heel of your foot as you thought about it for a moment, your brows knitted together. It was practically hurting your head, giving you a headache to be thinkin about every little thing that was running through your head.

Your lips pressed together in a thin line, unsure of whether or not to air your concerns. But it seems you weren’t gonna have any other chance to talk about it then right now, you just didn’t wanna dump everything on DogDay all at once. 

Practically would seem like a lot. Far too much to say and too little to be sure of. 

“I guess I’m just concerned over whether or not I really can trust Poppy,” You signal, having a habit of talking with your hands. “And this, Prototype guy… didn’t you say CatNap worships this thing like a god?”

He nods, “Yes, I didn’t join the Prototype. Which is why he had deemed me a heretic.” You frown at his words, nobody deserves that type of treatment. Making it even worse, you would assume the two used to be very good friends. 

“Oh dear,” You echo, recoiling suddenly in embarrassment for voicing something you didn’t realize slipped out of your mouth. DogDay laughs at this, waving his hand as he sits himself upright so as to not slip onto his back, “You are very much correct Angel.” He nods, “If anything, he’s no longer the old CatNap I’ve come to know him as.”

You shrug, a little unsure of the situation right now. Then a thought you finally needed ran across your mind, “Hey, would you happen to remember where your legs are or if… any spare ones laying around anywhere?” You motion around the room as you spoke, voice trailing off as you sat back, and awaiting DogDay’s response. He appeared to be deep in thought, clearly thinking about your question.

“I believe they have some spares in a storage room at this station,” DogDay gestures at the specific door he thought of in mind. “But Angel, I might be wrong. Don’t trouble yourself for my sake beyond this.” His voice strains, as if pleading. 

You chewed your lips, nodding your head once more as you headed to the door of origin. You quietly crept into the room, seeing how dark and dank it was. Slowly but surely your eyes had adjusted to the light. 

“Now, where are you… stupid legs.” You mutter, taking notice of some poppy gas that laid in wait in the corner, not to mention how badly scratched this room was in particular. Probably the work of CatNap or some other toy. On instinct, your legs drove you forward as you stepped into the gas with a gas mask inset upon your face. You certainly didn’t feel like dying from the gas, or passing out for that matter.

You had a debt to pay.

Your eyes wandered aimlessly as you palmed around for the supposed legs, feeling around for each and every inch possible that you might miss. 

Suddenly you felt a fuzzy feeling run up across your arm, you jostled in surprise, a happy squeak leaving your throat when you pick up the legs. “Thank you, sweet baby jesus.” You huff in reprise, feeling accomplished at the place of convenience.

If you could laugh right now, it would be possible, heaven sure as hell wasn’t a place for angels anymore. Not even you, but you still had to follow through, you came here in the first place anyway.

A small sigh left your esophagus as you turned, walking back through as you made careful note not to trip walking back too. 

Something had your mind occupied, demons infested this place. Elliot Ludwig had created this place, and if he so proclaims to want to bring joy to thousands upon thousands of children around the world then why would he permit the experiments. All those children and the elderly… your heart couldn’t help but ache at the mere thought. 

You shake your head to get your mind out of the unilluminated gutter, DogDay lit up upon seeing you in his sights once more. “Angel, you are alright.” He mentions, paw held to his chest as if he were breathing a sigh of relief.  

Your nose was scrunched as you gutted a snort, “You say that like it’s so surprising DogDay.” DogDay shrugs, as if he was now expressing the vulnerability of being embarrassed at the prospect of his own words. 

“Ah I’m just joking with you,” You wave him off, DogDay remains silent at this, not having any thought at what to say back to you. You were right though, he shouldn’t be doubting you for what even anyone in particular is worth. Being freed for what feels like the first time in forever had been leaving him with brand new thoughts, even though he had been thinking and left well alone for nearly over a decade now.

One door closes, infinite more are open. One must beware the foreign class, otherwise you may as well see yourself dead. 

“I truly do apologize for Poppy’s actions… we all mean well.” DogDay begins, trailing off into nearly an inconceivable silence. You set down the legs, to which DogDay is delighted at this brand new aspect, yet still left without room to be uncouth. You didn’t speak at all, pressing between the fine line of the truth and his own words. 

“We must, break the circle.”

What?

“Angel?”

“You all are chained, if whatever happened all those years ago were true…” You sigh, rubbing the nape of your neck as you find yourself in an air of awkwardness. “Then I am also at fault for the way you guys are right now.” 

DogDay’s brows drew together, upset that you feel guilty for the entirety of this fortnight. At least it had felt that way for you, you sincerely had lost track of time since your watch had gotten destroyed. You tried keeping up with the time on the clocks you pass by, but you just generally had lost the energy and motion in doing so.

“Hmn.” He muttered to himself, then got up to hug you, which had clearly surprised you as you felt yourself being enveloped and wrapped in a very fluffy hug. You sigh and decompress after a few moments, the shock finally leaving your body.

“Thanks… DogDay,” You motion, patting the fluff resting upon his chest. “I actually really needed that, hugs are a rarity.” You admit, blush burning on your cheeks as you look away from him in a manner of speaking. You hear a chuckle interrupted by a cough, “Don’t thank me, you seemed to really need it Angel. Being exhausted is one thing, but no hugs?”

DogDay drew a paw to his chest as he spoke dramatically, “That is absolutely unacceptable!” Your hand crossed over your mouth, trying to stifle a laugh at what a drama king DogDay was posing as at this very moment. 

“You kinda remind me of someone I know.” You motion, then sat on the heels of your feet as you immediately went back to work in fixing up DogDay. 

“How so?” 

“You're pretty bright, act like a drama king sometimes and you even can be a little mean…” You wag a finger as you see him begin to protest at the mean comment, “I don’t mean like in a rude manner, just like in a brotherly way. You kind of act like a big brother sometimes.” You shrug with a hint of finality, fixing up his other injuries and repairing them with a gentle hand, even if the suture seemed to betray the tremble displayed. 

After silence had continuously settled in once again, you sigh, angling at the fact on what to do in order to mend DogDay’s very obvious injury with his lack of legs attached at the bottom of his torso. For a moment, you meander with the decision.

“Right, I’m gonna try my best to reattach them to you.” You spoke with a benign tone, more so displaying your own distrust of yourself. You hated that, you practically hated everything so why is this any different.

You just have to do it scared. 

Familiarity reigns over your heart as you see his large paw lay over your own hand, you sigh, sensations shuddering your body as you keep yourself calm. You silently thank DogDay as you gesture that you were okay now, you can be fine on your own.

You push the legs to his upper half, just barely enough that it would appear as if the legs were there and back again already. Your hand wanders over to the middle line, your eyes glaze over with forlorn worry taking your very worried brain. You sigh as you begin stitching, taking careful caution as you notice him flinching quite a few times throughout the process. At a leisurely pace, you notice by the influence you had made by taking care of him how much better he looks physically. 

Soon enough, you manage to completely stitch his legs back to right where they belong. “Well done, I knew you could do it Angel!.” DogDay shook with excitement, reassuringly glad at the prospect of being able to actually walk again. You swear you could collapse at the relief, you hold out a finger before you let him get excited any further, “I still need to bandage it all together, extra precaution if you catch my drift.”

Your large dog companion nods in understanding, shifting about so his body parts don't get sore from sitting in one place for too long. 

From before, grace was high in patriarchy, now then you were sure it was something high to fall from. You could climb to the top (bottom to be literal) and rip the Prototype off of his high horse, and free all the surviving toys. 

You shook your head, trying to calm yourself at the buzzing excitement that had resonated deep-seated into your heart. You quickly went to work on bandaging the middle line of his torso, carefully curating it enough so the bandages would cover the stitches completely. 

“There, now we are done and good to go!” You look up at DogDay, offering him a soft smile. “Angel really… thank you so much.” He gestures for you to come closer, so you oblige and go in, suddenly you feel yourself being hugged by unabashed warmth. You yelped as air bloomed across your skin, seeing as you are now in the air quite a few feet off the ground.

DogDay really was hugging you with the whole of his heart, so you melt into his touch, relenting as you found defeat–yet also peace with your furry friend.

[spikesbicth]

Eyes Wide Shut

Astarion x F!Tav!Reader

Summary: Astarion helps you relieve some stress with a blindfold.

approx 1.9k words, crossposted on ao3

CW: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, smut, oral sex, PiV, blindfold, blood, biting.

A/N: someone stop me. I literally cannot stop writing. anyways. enjoy. <3

The beginnings of sunrise peak through the window as you struggle to remove your armour after a difficult night. Suddenly switching priorities, you rush to the window to draw the curtains in the room, blocking out the sunbeams beginning to cast light across the room. You breathe a sigh of relief, tinged with resentment and exasperation. It had been months of searching for answers, following dead leads, doing anything. Searching for something to allow Astarion back in the sun. You loved him so dearly, but gods, was it wearing on you.

You swallow hard in the darkness of the room, then return to trying to undo the straps of your armour. Stress had tightened your shoulders, and you struggled to reach around yourself. Groaning and giving up, you pace the room, lighting the candles. You feel better with the warm light from the tiny flames, wondering why this light was so different from that of the sun’s.

The door to the room opens and closes behind you, Astarion entering from the hall of the inn you had taken residence at for the last few days. You turn to greet him, your mood lifting almost instantly. Astarion’s angular face and ears were god-like in the flickering candlelight. A pit forms in your stomach as you try to remember the last time you saw him in the clear light of day. You sigh, awash with grief.

“Is something wrong?” Astarion asks, a sliver of fear in his voice. His eyes wide and concerned as he looks at you standing alone in the dimness of your room.

“I- no… well…” You trail off. You don’t want to cast more guilt upon him. You knew he struggled too, he saw how worn down you were becoming. You look awkwardly around the room, avoiding his gaze. “I’m stressed. I’m afraid…” trying to continue, but fear that you will fall into a mess of emotions and tears.

Astarion steps towards you, wrapping his arms around you. There wasn’t anything to be said, anything that could be said, nothing that could solve each other's troubles this early morning. You melt into him, relishing his tender touch.

“Let me take care of you.” He whispers in your ear, planting a kiss on your cheek. You nod, squeezing him closer.

You feel his fingers undoing the buckles on your armour while his arms continue to hold you close. He slides it off of you, and you breathe in deeply, now unrestrained and only in your underclothes. He rubs his cool hands over your back, pausing to place pressure on the tense spots he found. You relax into him, pressing your face into his shoulder and breathing in his sweet-citrusy scent. He guides you to the bed, and sits you down. Standing before you, he leans down and kisses your forehead.

“I have an idea…” He speaks softly, brushing your face with the back of his hand. The candlelight flickered in his crimson eyes, and his nose cast angular shadows across his face. You nod again, and he pulls a piece of cloth from his pocket, and offers it to you. “For your eyes, my love… cover them and forget it all, feel only me.” He purrs. You didn’t need convincing.

You take the cloth, a soft, silky fabric sample Astarion had no doubt swiped from a shop for this purpose. You wonder how long he had been holding on to it. Tying the fabric around your head and slipping it over your eyes, you give yourself to the darkness. There is no doubt Astarion has something planned for you tonight.

You feel his hands grasping the edge of your top, then pulling it up and off of you, and you assist him by raising your arms over your head. You hear the garment make a soft thud as it hits the floor, followed by the sounds of Astarion removing his own shirt. A cool palm meets your chest and it presses you to lay down on your back. The softness of the bedding is quickly contrasted by Astarion’s bare chest on top of you, and he kisses your lips tenderly. You kiss him back, tracing his lower lip with your tongue and he parts his mouth. You glide your tongue across his teeth, feeling sharp tips of his fangs.

Kissing you passionately now, he rests his weight on your pelvis with his legs on either side of you and brings a hand to one of your breasts. You gasp delicately as his chilled fingers pinch and twist your nipple. They harden reactively, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

Astarion breaks your kiss and begins to kiss down your neck and chest, stopping at your sternum to tongue over your nipples. Your eyes flutter against the fabric of your blindfold, and you allow yourself to sink deeper into the moment. You feel him kissing and nibbling your breasts, his fangs leaving small scratches as they drag across you. You feel a wetness growing between your legs, and a flutter of excitement in your stomach. As he passes his tongue over you, he leaves a trail of wetness that tingles your skin and causes your clit to begin to throb. He moves off of you, and the brief moment of confusion for where he had gone is broken when you feel his hands at the waistline of your trousers.

“Lift your hips for me, my love.” He asks, his voice low. You arch your back to lift your hips off the bed, and he pulls your bottoms off of you, and removes your shoes. You lay naked and blindfolded,your knees bend and legs hanging over the edge of the bed. You listen to Astarion removing the remainder of his own clothes, and you softly bite your lip as you wait.

Returning to you, he runs his hands up your thighs, to your waist. You hear the floorboards bend and creak as he lowers to his knees. He begins kissing your lower thighs, and pulls you closer to the edge of the bed so your hips are almost sliding off. He guides your legs apart, and you knowingly move to place them over his shoulders. He adjusts them into place, and you imagine the look on his face as you clumsily feel around with your hands for his head. You shiver in anticipation, and draw a breath in as you wait for his next move.

His tongue meets your folds with little warning, and a soft moan escapes you. He licks you slowly, tasting your arousal. You feel his tongue and lips kissing you slowly, his saliva and your wetness mixing and dripping down to the bed sheets. He suckles his lips around your clit, and you arch your back as you moan louder than before. Your hands finally reach his head, and you ball a fist of his silver locks in your hand. He continues to suck on your clit, pulling it in and out of his lips with a slow and persistent rhythm. You feel a burning at his lips, his touch a searing pleasure. You won’t last long like this. You feel him bring a finger to your folds, teasing your entrance and you take a sharp breath in.

To your surprise he suddenly withdraws, culling the fire that was growing within you. You hear him stand up again, and he places his hands on your hips. He turns you over, handling you with little effort. Laying on your stomach, he taps your ass lightly, playfully.

“Up, on your knees now my dear.” He asks, a smile in his voice. You push yourself up onto all fours, your hands sinking into the bedding and feeling your breasts swaying freely beneath you. You feel Astsrion’s hands on your waist yet again, and you feel his erect cock brushing against the back of your thighs. Traces of his precum tingle your skin. “Gods, you are so beautiful.” You hear him whisper under his breath. He squeezes your waist, then removes a hand to stroke his length and guide it towards your entrance.

He places the tip of his cock inside of you, and you feel your walls expanding to let him inside. You breathe deeply, taking in the feeling of him slowly pushing inside of you; intensified by your lack of vision. He fucks you slowly at first, pushing and pulling himself inside of you. Slowly increasing his force and speed, you fall to your elbows, arching your back and shifting the position of his cock inside of you. He moans deeply, fucking you hard. You burn with desire, he folds himself over you, pressing his chest into your back. You shift your weight to free one of your arms, and reach up to your clit. Still desperately sensitive from Astarion’s lips, just a graze of your fingers causes you to clench around Astarion inside of you, and he moans loudly in response.

You touch yourself in small circles, stoking the fire within you once again. You moan into the bed, melting under Astarion while he fucked you. Feeling him inside if you, feeling yourself stretching and retracting, listening to the sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you. The tide rose, you were reaching your peak. Your clit throbs under your fingers and your breath quickens.

“Astar- Astarion… I-I’m going to…” You moan, your blindfold beginning to slip off your face as you press into the bed.

He presses into you further, kissing the side of your neck and continues to fuck you. You feel yourself reaching orgasm, tumbling over the edge. You clench rhythmically on Astarion’s cock, moaning loudly into the bed. He moans with you, silencing himself by kissing your neck once again.

Suddenly your neck burns as Astarion plunges his fangs into you as he reaches his own orgasm, his thrusts becoming increasingly disorganized. Blood spills down your neck and chin, dripping onto the bed sheets below you. You feel Astarion sucking your neck while he moans, and his cock twitching inside of you as he fills you with his cum. You collapse under him, and him onto you. Leaking his cum between your legs and blood from your neck, you squirm beneath him. Still blindfolded, you turn over onto your back, and begin kissing aimlessly, searching for his lips. You feel him moving his arms, and suddenly your blindfold is tugged off. His soft, loving gaze greets yours.

“Feeling any better, darling?” he smiles, then kisses you tenderly. You taste your blood on his lips, and smile into them as you kiss him back.

“I certainly am.” You reply with a small laugh. He rolls off of you and lays by your side, then pulls you in with his arms. The coolness of his body is a sweet relief to you after the heat of your orgasm. You tangle with him and close your eyes.

No matter your struggles, you know that at the very least you would always have him - even if just by candlelight.

[sturniolotrip-samandcolby-lover]

Matt sturniolo x Colby Brock X reader -

Dreams can come true

Summary -you are a youtuber and decided to do a lie detector with some friends for a video that leads to a confession and some very steamy actions

Warnings - smut ,oral sex m and f , threesome,protected sex , anal play ,choking,face grabbing ,hair pulling,spanking, dp (double penetration for all the innocent ones) swearing.If I've missed anymore else please let me know .Use of Y/N not proofread.

Word count -3k

Inspired by this photo

"Hey guys it's y/n here and welcome back to my channel , and if you're new here hi welcome .Today I'm going to be linked up to this lie detector here and my two friends here ,Matt and Colby are going to be asking me questions and I cannot lie .so if that's the sort of thing your looking for today is to see me probably embarrass myself then stick around".I say with a big smile into the camera hearing my two friends chuckling to themselves about the last part .

"Right you ready y/n " Colby asks as I get strapped in , I shake my head no in response with a small nervous laugh as him and Matt look at the pieces of paper that have their questions on .The pieces of paper that they have been keeping secret from me all day , I have no idea what they are but I just hope they don't make me blush Matt and Colby are both my friends but I've always seen them as so attractive, so when I had my dream about them last night I wasn't surprised.

*Twenty minutes later*

We've started getting towards darker and deeper questions . They've found out things that are bad but not too bad like how I admitted to peeing in the shower or biting my nails really badly as a kid .There's a pause before Colby asks the next question, he looks me deep in the eyes , I find my breath catching that I have to look away."Y/N have you ever had a threesome?" He asked I was shocked for a second "no" true I respond ."hmm" he says in response and looks to matt awaiting for the next question "would you ever have a threesome?" He asks.Shit shit shit I'm internally screaming, it's like they're mind readers with or they just knew about my dream last night I pause "yes" I say through a breathe true .Again the boys look at each other "so one last question y/n ...would you have a threesome with Matt and I?" I'm paused in shock , Colby said it so calmly that I can't even work out if I imagined it or not .I refuse to look either one in the eye "no" I say forgetting that the whole point of a lie detector is to show when people lie .Lie it says .I feel the boys glare at me , and I keep looking forward towards the camera not brave enough to look at them .

"Alright guys I'm gonna call it a day here , so thanks for watching if you made it this far .it's been interesting to say the least .Let me know if you'd like me to do another one of these.Please like , comment and subscribe and I'll see you next week ."I say as i turn the camera off.I show the man with the lie detector to the door and thank him again .I head down my long corridor towards the living and kitchen area where matt and colby are sat on the sofa.

"Anyone like a drink?" I say cheerfully as I walk past them avoiding their gaze .I'm stopped from walking to the kitchen by colby as his large hand wraps around my small wrist."sit down we need to talk" he orders.I oblige and sit between him and matt ."so about that threesome" matt brings up ,i go bright red instantly.colby notices "its nothing to be embarrassed about princess "he says , i shudder at this new nickname feeling the arrousal between my legs start to grow already I squeeze my thighs together underneath the skirt of my dress."tell me when was the last time you had a thought about a threesome with Matt and I ?" Colby continues .I take a shy breath "this morning...I ..I had a dream about it again last night" I stutter back in nervousness.Colby instantly puts his hand on my knee drawing small shapes on the exposed skin , I can't help but also think what else could his fingers do ."hmm well we have a proposition to make with you" matt speaks drawing my attention away from colbys fingers ."what's that" i say shyly."we give you what you dream , we've been thinking about it too" matt continues "so what do you say" matt asks .I nod my head in response "we are going to need to hear words princess if we're going to do this right" colby says with his husky voice ."yes" i say again more confident this time ."good girl" matt praises me " so since we're doing this properly we need safe word and whats your limits baby?" Matt continues." How about pineapple,and I don't really know my limits yet I want to see how far I can push them " i say looking him in the eye for the first time in what seems like forever.

"Good girl that's what we like to hear" Colby says with a small laugh." Now just let things go with the flow and you can say stop whenever you want to Princess , you're in control of it all " he continues.As he says this all his fingers move further and further up my thigh , I only noticed when his finger brush over my clothed pussy,"she's already so wet for us Matt" he says with a smirk .

" Sit on Colby's lap" Matt orders , I do as I'm told with it being very obvious already that I'm in for a long night and would be extremely submissive.As I go to sit on Colby's thigh , with Matt sitting in my previous seat .I'm distracted by colby kissing his teeth "actually Matt before she does that remember that she lied " he said in a teasing tone.i stand there in my dress Infront of the both , with them undressing me with their eyes ."you're right so she was a bad girl for lying" Matt replies "she should be punished " he continues."how about 10 spanks just to start off easy" colby says starring me in the eye " I agree" matt says."take your dress off "matt orders , i obey leaving me in just my damp underwear and bare at the top .

They both devour me with their eyes "good girl now get over here princess lay on your stomach over my knees " I do as I'm told "I want you to count for me okay?" Colby continues.

I lay there in what feels like forever awaiting the first spank ...*whack* "1" I say quickly the whacks continue until number ten *whack* "10 " I say , I'm now a moaning mess with my wetness now dripping past my panties .Colby rubs my sore cheeks praising me as I look up to already see Matt with his cock out resting on his stomach I'm surprised by his size .

Colby helps me stand up ,he points to a wet patch on the thigh of his jeans "look at what you done princess , you enjoyed that just as much as we did didn't you" he says rhetorical as he gestures to the tent in his jeans as I can see his boner being constricted.He reaches his hand up and pulls my underwear down , I feel so vulnerable I got to cover myself up when Colby grabs my hips moving me to now sit on his lap , I hiss at the instant sting of my reminder of my punishment."Put your legs on the outside of mine "Colby orders as I do to then he spreads his legs causing mine to be wide open and my bare pussy to be completely exposed.He uses his legs to trap mine between his and the sofa causing me to be in this spread open position with the choice to close my legs .

Colby's fingers dance around the top of my thighs "is this okay " he whispers in my hair , I respond with a yes .His hands quickly move to my pussy running his fingers between my slit "so wet" he says to himself , im already moaning slightly as he rubs my clit .I hold onto his right arm as something to do thats not going go cause rips."how about with that other hand you give Matt a helping hand" colby suggests , i do so i spit in my hand and wrap it around matts cock earning a instant moan from the shorter man .As soon as I start pumping Matt's cock , Colby enters two fingers into me , I'm a moaning mess and all the sounds that can be heard is my wetness , moans and Matt's moans.I watch Matt's face with his lips parted ,eyes closed and head back moaning my name .This sight and Colby fast rough fingers is enough and seconds later I feel my core tightened "ask" Colby says already feeling my orgasm coming "please please Colby can I cum , I need to cum so bad" I begged my head now resting on his broad shoulder "hmmm yes "he says after a pause " cum all over my fingers right now" that is all I needed before I'm a screaming mess withering around in Colby's arms .

I am completely oblivious as I open my arms I see that Matt is cleaning his cum off himself "did I do that" I ask exhaustedly with my head still resting on Colby's shoulder with his hands resting on my thighs comfortably."yeah, we came together" Matt says with a laugh .

"Let's carry this on upstairs "Matt says picking me up bridal style from Colby's lap he carries me upstairs with Colby following.Matt lays me down on my bed as both boys strip down so they're both as naked as I am ." Here's how it's gonna go y/n you're going to show us both what that pretty mouth of yours can do and then we're going to take it in turns to fuck both your holes do you understand?" Matt says so abruptly.I nod with a yes in response

I get on my knees at the end of the bed I take Matt's thick cock in my mouth swirling my tongue around the tip and bobbing my head down , I reach with my left hand pumping Colby's cock , his isn't as long as Matt's but it's alot thicker .I continue bobbing my head down both of their cocks , gagging , choking and tears running down my throat.I switch between wanking one off to sucking the other one until they're both moaning messes above me .

Matt removes my hand ,with Colby tapping my cheek in a way of telling me to pull off him.i look up at them both confused "we want to make you cum again before we do" Colby says at my confused expression."sit at the end of the bed baby ,I wanna do something"Matt says I obliged pulling my still weak legs to the end of the bed when Matt gets impatient and pulls my legs towards him he stand between them , towering over me .Colby sits on the bed next to be wanking his own cock I reach for his dick "you focus of squirting Princess" he says with a wink"I don't know if I can " I say quietly to them both, "don't worry baby I'll make sure you do" Matt says sweetly to me as he smacks my pussy lightly causing my leg to shake , he plunges two long fingers into me curling them at a fast pace it's less then a second that the room is full of sounds of my wetness "good girl"praises and my moans .I close my eyes as I start to feel my abdomen tighten when I shocked by the cool feeling of metal on my cheeks ."keep you eyes on mine when I'm making you cum" Matt orders , that's all it takes for me to be begging Matt "please Matt please" is all I can get out before he's nodding his head and I'm screaming while I squirt all down his hand .Colby holds me up as I come down .

I open my eyes at the loss of touch from Colby and Matt , to suddenly see Colby laying on the bed

With a condom already on his hard member and Matt standing with a bottle of lube as he rolls a condom onto his member , they came prepared for this ."you ever been fucked in the ass y/n" Colby says " no but ive had a finger , i liked it" i say blushing , "well matt is going to fuck your ass first and im gonna go second while i fuck your pussy , do you think you can be a brave girl and take us both princess"colby continued .I position myself so that Colby's cock is aligned with my pussy when I move down we both moan as he enters me , he gives me a second to adjust before he starts thrusting in getting me used to the feeling of him before Matt enters me from behind ."feels so tight for me y/n " Colby moans as he holds onto my boobs as they bounce .

I'm distracted in my movements when I feel Matt run his hand down my back , Colby stills inside of me "are you ready baby " Matt says I reply with a "yes" "come here princess rest you head on my shoulder let us do the work , remember your safe word " Colby reminds me .

I flinch against Colby as Matt squirts cold lube down my crack and rubs it around my puckered hole.I hear another squirt and await the cold but instead it's Matt rubbing lube down his condom covered cock .I feel a immense pressure and stretch as I let out tiny whines of pain against Colby's shoulder as I bite down on him .With Matt running his hands down my back and Colby's comforting words I start to relax and the pain slowly turns to pleasure.I give both boys the go ahead to move and soon enough they make perfect rhythms as one enters me the other pulls out.Matt grabs my hair and pulls it so im face to face with colby , he takes this perfect opportunity as colby wraps his hand around my throat " do you like this princess , these two cocks for you do you like having my hand wrapped your throat while you're getting both your holes filled" he says as he thrusts up into me ."I'm gonna cum "I say for the 3rd time tonight."we all cum together"Matt says "on 3" Colby answers "1....2....3"all 3 of us cum full of deep moans from matt and colby with a scream from me .I collapse against colby as he lifts me up quickly to get rid of his condom while matt does the same .I'm left trembling with no energy left in Colby's arms "are you done baby" he says to me I just nod my head in response "we'll call it a day" Matt says as he places a blanket over me and gets in next to me and Colby now with boxers on I was still completely naked ."But you didn't get my ass" I say quietly to Colby , he chuckled " there's always next time princess now you get some sleep we will look after you" he says stroking my hair .

[actual-changeling]

An angel and a demon walk into a bar.

It sounds like the beginning of a joke, one that would have annoyed Crowley greatly before- before. Maybe it would have been mildly amusing, were it not for the fact that it is a pub, not a bar (a mere technicality that somehow still mattered), and it is the first time in seven months that he is looking Aziraphale right in the face.

He chose the place, walked right out of the bookshop and across the street the second Aziraphale looked at him with his stupid purple eyes and opened his mouth. Same table, same drinks. New silence.

A demon leads an angel into a pub so he does not kiss him again.

Less of a joke, more like the beginning of a nightmare he has had every single time he tried to sleep, woken by whispered words either confirming his worst fears or greatest desires; both incite fear, one way or another.

The low table between them is enough of a barrier to prevent a repeat of their last interaction, it has to be, although this time Aziraphale is looking at him with violet-coloured longing and an apology on his lips, no longer pleading, no longer angry. He is asking for forgiveness, and if that isn't a deeply ironic twist of fate.

Before either of them says a single word, Crowley finishes his drink and raises his hand to order another one, clinging to the familiar sting of alcohol in his throat to burn away the questions lingering on his tongue.

An angel followed a demon into a pub because he loves him.

Aziraphale wishes he could tell himself Crowley looks like he did seven months ago, that he hasn't changed, but he is done lying to himself, to either of them. Behind his shades, dark, darker if that is even possible, he can feel his golden gaze heavy on his face, familiar and the answer to an empty longing in his chest.

His drink goes untouched as Crowley downs one, then another, and it is after the third that he finally begins to talk.

"What do you want?"

Bitter, sharp, spit at his feet with an anger he expected and yet doesn't know how to react to. Underneath it is pain—more pain than any being should ever have to experience—and instead of trying to carry some of it for him, he only added to it.

"I want to apologise."

"Fine." Crowley shoves his empty glass away and gets up. "I don't forgive you."

Reflexively, Aziraphale reaches out and curls his fingers around his wrist when Crowley tries to walk past him, blinking up at him with eyes the colour of dying Myosotis.

Forget-me-nots.

They both freeze, the point of contact a crack in the walls they have spent centuries building and seven months rebuilding, and he knows he has made a mistake immediately.

Crowley stares at him, still as stone, until he suddenly rips his arm out of his grasp, almost cradling it against his chest. With dawning horror, Aziraphale realises he is shaking, tremors running through him like waves breaking apart on a rocky shore.

"Don't you dare touch me." Panic, not anger. Pure, unfiltered panic blooming beside a mountain of fear that could outlast an eternity.

"I-" He doesn't know what he wants to say, what he is trying to say, what he needs to say to make him stay. Oh, the irony of it all.

Crowley leaves the pub, and the Supreme Archangel stays behind.

Not a demon anymore, not technically, he is done with sides, and deeds, and choices; he never makes the right ones anyway. His wrist hurts with the ghost of a kiss, and he cannot get the glint of purple where summer sky blue should be out of his head. 

The Bentley is waiting for him, providing an escape from the noise, the people, him.

Apologies instead of I'm coming back.

A sickening aura of holiness tinged with the burn of ozone instead of books and dust and soft, silly angel.

Seven months of waiting, of pleading with God, of cursing Her, cursing him, cursing the entire fucking world for taking and taking and taking from him without pause, without even a fragment of mercy.

For this.

An angel returns to heaven. Crowley curses the stars and cries.

[middleearthpixie]

Can you please write a fic where Thorin falls in love with a human girl, but he thinks she is disgusted by his looks? 🙏

Hi there, Nonny!! I know it took me forEVER, but here you go and i hope you like it! 💜

The Harp

Summary: You and Thorin are friends, but then you find out his feelings for you run deeper, and he’s holding back because he feels he is not good enough for you.  

Pairing: Thorin x fem!Reader (post-sack of Erebor, pre-quest for Erebor)

Warning: None. Just fluffy fluff

Rating: G

Word Count: 4.7k

***

He came into the dining room at the same time each evening and always sat at the same table—the one in the far corner, which was also the darkest corner of the room. He was polite, but kept to himself and you noticed how he always sat with his back to the wall and rarely did his eyes pause from scanning the room. 

The other diners eyed him with just as much suspicion but then again, they all eyed each other with suspicion as well. It was second nature to this lot, as they came from all four corners of Middle Earth. No one was actually from Emyn Vanya. No, every warm body had come from somewhere else to this tiny village on the outskirts of everywhere and yet somehow in the middle of nowhere. Some came to start over. Some came to forget. Some came to do both and some were just passing through. But everyone was from somewhere else and almost no one wished to discuss where that somewhere else might be.

You couldn't help but notice him, for he was a dwarf and the Grey Gander did not see many dwarves in their dining room. And not only that, but he was a handsome dwarf, to boot, with black hair, touched here and there with hints of silver, that spilled over his shoulders in a long tangle of curls. His most striking feature was his eyes, however, for they were the most piercing shade of icy blue you’d ever seen. There was a hardness within those pale eyes, one belied by his polite demeanor and deep, if soft, voice. 

Night after night, this man came in alone. He sat alone. He spoke to no one other than you when you approached to take his order, just as you did this evening. He was polite, if reserved, and spoke only when absolutely necessary, which was an interesting change from the patrons who grew louder and more opinionated as they dove further and further into their cups. 

“Welcome back,” you said with a smile as you approached him. “Might I fetch you a drink to begin?”

“Thank you. A tanked of ale would suit.”

“Of course. And do you know what you’d like or are you still trying to decide?”

He looked up at you with those striking eyes. “The hunter’s stew.”

His order never varied and you were certain you could just bring him a bowl of the stew without asking, which was why you couldn't resist a bit of playing with him. “I think we should start calling that your usual. Perhaps we should change it on the menu itself.”

That earned you one of the dwarf’s rare smiles. “I am not so certain that is necessary.”

“Well, you’ve been in here eight of the last ten nights and have yet to order anything different.” You couldn’t help teasing him. You sensed a hint of sadness in him, one that might explain the hardness in his eyes. And while it was a bit of a risk, teasing this man you didn’t really know, you had to admit, his smile made the risk worthwhile.

“But,” you added, taking your teasing further than you normally did, “you would have to tell me your name first. I certainly cannot ask to rename it Dwarf Stew. That would give the wrong impression, don’t you think?”

A darkness flashed through his eyes and you knew you’d overstepped. Your mind raced as you struggled to come up with something to smooth over his obviously ruffled feathers, knowing your employer would be furious if your flippancy drove away a paying customer. “I mean… that is… I apolo—”

“No,” he interrupted softly, shaking his head, “there is no need to apologize. And you’re right, it would sound odd. So, I suppose then, it would only be fair to tell you my name, wouldn’t it?”

Your heart beat a little faster at that. Perhaps it was but your imagination, but his voice sounded lower than it normally did. Lower and bit growlier. Had he, by any chance, noticed you the way you’d noticed him?

No, that was madness talking. Very few people noticed you aside from being their serving girl. You tended to blend into the background far too easily and since so many people in Emyn Vanya were only passing through, they paid little heed to you.

Still, that didn't stop you from replying, “It would, yes.”

To your surprise, that earned you a laugh. A genuine, honest-to-goodness laugh and one that sent flutters through you as it rolled across the small table in your direction. Like his voice, it was low and silken, and those flutters made you forget your own name for a moment.

“Very well,” he nodded, his eyes meeting and holding yours, “I am Thorin.”

You offered your name in return and added, “It’s wonderful to make your acquaintance, Thorin.”

“And yours as well.”

Heat climbed into your cheeks and you ducked your head, saying, “I will be back in a few moments with your ale,” you hesitated, then added, “Thorin.”

“I will be here.”

Thorin sat back as you darted off and couldn't believe his cheek. What had possessed him to even think to flirt with you? Your interest had to be only because he was a paying customer, because there was no way a woman as beautiful as you could possibly be interested in him. 

The first time he stepped into the Grey Gander, he’d noticed you at once, noticed how easily you smiled and joked with the tavern’s patrons. Your laughter was a silvery melody that made everyone turn in your direction and smile even if they had no idea what it was that made you laugh. 

He noticed everything about you—from that amazing smile and intoxicating laughter to your beautiful eyes and easy grace with which you moved about the crowded dining room. You never seemed impatience, or irritated, and even when someone gave you a hard time about something, you never lost your temper and somehow managed to defuse the most volatile of situations. 

The second night he’d come in, he’d witness such a scene, almost reaching for his sword, propped against the table, when the giant of man actually grabbed you by the arm. He had no doubt he’d have intervened if you needed it, but you didn’t. You smiled at the man as you peeled his fingers from your wrist and very sweetly informed him that if he touched you again, you’d turn him from a rooster to a hen in one fell swoop. 

It was at that moment, Thorin lost his heart.

A foolish notion at best, as you would never feel about him the way he did you. Why would you? He was a dwarf. He had no home. He had been in line for a throne, but now supported himself by moving from place to place, taking work where he could find it. 

That was what brought him to Emyn Vanya. His trade was blacksmithing and the village needed one. So, there he was, in the dining room of the Grey Gander, admiring you from afar and wishing he stood a chance at winning your hand. 

It was just as well, for what did he have to offer you? A king with no kingdom was no better than a pauper, really. Not to mention, he certainly couldn’t compete with the men of Emyn Vanya, who were all taller, slimmer, and far more attractive than he certainly was. You would be a fool to even consider him.

But, he watched you from afar, watched as you moved from table to table, how you brought a beaming smile to the face of an old crone, how you soothed angry children bickering over a toy, how you made a crying infant smile by making silly faces until they could do nothing else. 

How you focused on him as if he was the most interesting man in the room and not, for lack of a better phrase, a homely, homeless refugee. 

If only…

He sighed as you approached with a tankard in one hand. His heart beat so much faster when you met his gaze. His mouth went as dry as the plains between his lost kingdom of Erebor and the city of Dale after the dragon Smaug torched it from one end to the other.

You set the tankard before him. “Your supper will be ready in but a few minutes, Mr. Thorin.”

Mr. Thorin. He smiled, shaking his head. “No Mister. Thorin is just fine.”

“Oh, well that wouldn’t be proper now, would it?” Your eyes almost sparkled as your easy smile curved your lips. “After all, we only just met.”

“This is true,” he nodded, reaching for the tankard. Then, on impulse, he added, “Perhaps you might join me one evening?”

You looked taken aback and he immediately berated himself silently. You fool! What is wrong with you?

But then you smiled. “I think I would like that. I have an off night tomorrow. Would that work for you?”

He was stunned, not only by your agreement, but by your suggestion. No woman ever approached him that way. He’d always been the one to ask. You were bold and he admired that. So, he nodded. “That would work just fine for me.”

“Wonderful. What time?”

“Half seven?”

“Half seven it is,” you told him. “And I’ll be back in but a moment with your supper.”

****

What were you thinking? How could you just blurt out an invitation to him that way? He must think you a harlot, or a wanton woman for doing so. 

But at the same time, as you smoothed a hand along your skirts, you had to admit, you looked so forward to seeing him without having to wait upon him. It was a nice change of pace for you. A break in the monotony of your life that was work, sleep, and more work.

You’d told him where you lived, a rundown little flat above the florist’s shop, and at half eight, when the knock came at the door, you nearly jumped clear out of your skin. Then, laughing at your foolishness, you hurried to the door, before he thought you’d changed your mind and left. 

You smiled as you pulled open the door. “You are early.”

“I allowed myself extra time in case I found myself lost. I’m still new to these parts and this town takes a bit of getting used to.”

“If you remember the streets run east and west, and the avenues run north and south, you might fare better.”

He bobbed his head. “I would, but there are three florists on this street alone.”

“It is a very competitive business in Emyn Vanya.”

“So I’ve noticed.” 

You hesitated a moment and then stepped aside. “Come in.”

As he stepped over the threshold, you tried not to dwell on how shabby your flat was, with its scratched and scuffed hand-me-down furnishings. After you paid your rent and made certain there was food on the table, there was not much money left for luxuries such as nice furniture. Normally, it didn't trouble you. This was your home and you thought it cozy, if a bit rundown. But, when you tried to see it through Thorin’s eyes? 

You saw exactly how awful it must have looked to him. Threadbare sofa. The armchair had a hole in the cushion thanks to a broken spring, which meant that not only was stuffing peeping up from the hole, one received a nasty poke in the backside, should they think to sit there. 

And of course, there was that awful water stain in the far corner. You had no idea from where it had come, only that no matter how much you tried to paint over it, it bled through. You’d given up trying when paint fell into the luxury category.

But, he reached up for the frogs at his throat and then whisked his cloak off to drape over his arm. “This is lovely.”

Lovely? You looked about, wondering exactly what he found so lovely about it. “It’s a bit… ah… worn, don't you think?”

“Lived in, is how I would describe it.” He smiled at you. “Homes should be lived in. That is how they become such. Otherwise, they are but houses, flats, nothing more than buildings.”

You looked back at him. “Lived in?”

He nodded. “Lived in.” 

Then he looked back at you and for a moment, you were rendered speechless. Did he have any idea whatsoever as to how handsome he truly was? Because if he did, he certainly did not act as if he did.

Of course, you kept that to yourself, especially when that night, a deep friendship was born. You had dinner together on the nights when you weren’t working. You spent off days together, sometimes running errands with each other, sometimes just doing nothing. He had a knack for the acrostics printed in the village newspaper and the two of you spent your share of days or nights looking up which answers you thought would work. It didn't matter. He had quickly become your dearest friend and while you loved that, you’d also begun thinking that perhaps there was a bit more to your relationship than only friendship.

It was too bad he’d never given any indication at all that he saw you as anything more than a friend.

So you stayed quiet. Autumn gave way to winter and the Yule holiday was only a few days off when you made your way to Thorin’s forge at the northern end of town. A bitter cold wind whipped down the narrow alleyway where his shop was located and you didn't have to look to know you were near it. The carved wooden sign identifying the forge creaked on its hooks as it swung in the wind. Through the swirling snow, you could still make out the word etched into the wood. 

Blacksmith

Beneath that word, Thorin had carved symbols as well, and when you’d asked, he’d smiled and explained that they were a language called khuzdul, which was his native language, actually. He’d attempted to teach you some of it, and showed nothing but patience as you fumbled over seemingly simple words. Little by little, though, it became easier and left you wishing you had something like that to share with him. 

But then you found something. One night, over several goblets of wine, he confessed that he once played the harp, but had lost his when he’d lost his home, but that was all he would say about either the harp or what happened to his home. So, you’d saved a bit of your pay each week and put it aside and then went to the music shop at the far end of town and found what you’d hoped would be a suitable replacement harp. It wasn't a big, grand instrument, as those were far beyond what you could ever hope to afford, but you hoped he’d like it the same. You couldn’t remember the last time you were so excited and impatient to give someone a gift as you were this one, which was why you braved the worsening weather.  

So there you were, at the far end of a gray-shingled building with a roof in need of repair, listening to the almost melodic sound of metal striking metal. The closer you drew to his workshop, the warmer the air grew and as you rounded the corner, a blast of heat hit you square in the face. It was a welcome sensation as your cheeks felt quite numb from the cold. 

He had his back to you and heat shot through you at the sight of him, shirtless in deference to that blasted heat, the muscles in his back and along his shoulders bulging as he held a piece of iron in one hand, a hammer in the other. The clang rang through you when he brought the hammer slamming against the iron, again and again and you couldn't help but just stare. 

Your eyes roamed over his naked back, heavy with obviously well-earned muscle, and inked with black lines of varying sizes that covered his entire shoulder, stretched across his back, and into the opposite shoulder as well. You had no idea what the symbols and lines meant, but they looked very similar to the ones carved into the forge’s sign, so your guess was they were dwarfish runes or words.

The heat in the forge was brutal regardless of how cold it was beyond the walls. Sweat prickled along your back as you stepped closer. You didn't want to startle him. The iron with which he worked began with an orange glow, but slowly, as he pounded it flat, the glow faded and when he set down the hammer and used a pair of tongs to pick up the flattened piece and thrust it into a tub of water, steam actually rose from the tub.

“Thorin?”

He jumped, letting go of the tongs as he spun around and now heat shot up into your cheeks at the naked chest you found yourself staring at. Like his back, his chest was just as broad, with black hair swirled from one nipple to the other and down across his belly. More symbols had been inked across it, meeting with the design on his left shoulder.

“I am so sorry,” you stammered, tearing your eyes from that impressive sight to meet his startled blue eyes, “I was trying not to startle you.”

“What are you doing here?”

You hugged the package close. “I had to go and pick something up and thought while I was out, I’d stop by.” You peered around him, at the iron still resting in the water. “What are you making?”

“A sword.” He reached for the towel draped over the workbench and swept it across his forehead. “You should not be in here. It’s far too dangerous.”

“I will come no closer then. But tell me, who commissioned the sword?”

“No one. It is mine. I work on it when I’ve a bit of free time.”

“Might I see?”

“It’s not even close to being finished.” He came around the bench and stood before you. His black hair was damp at the temples. 

“You don't have to stop on my account, you know.” You took a step closer to him, the urge to reach out and touch him so powerful, it nearly overwhelmed you. You wish you had the courage to tell him how you’d come to feel about him, as you’d had when you’d left your flat. You’d left there full of fire and determined to confess your feelings for him, but unfortunately, by the time you reached his forge, that courage evaporated like the water in the tub had. 

“It would be rude of me to continue.”

“Not at all. I think it would be fascinating, watching you work.” 

His gaze shifted slightly to his left and you followed it to see what he looked at—a heavy dark gray henley lay draped over a chair by his desk. Without thinking, you shifted the package to one arm and reached out to catch him by the upper arm as he stretched for his shirt.

“Wait, don’t,” you said, shaking your head.

“Don’t?”

You nodded. “I—what is this?” You traced your fingertips along the thick black lines curving his shoulder, unable to believe your own brazenness but unable to halt your touch as well. 

“It’s my… my… it’s a raven,” he managed, his voice deep and huskier than usual. He cleared his throat. “The symbol of my clan, and my family crest.”

You could not keep yourself from tracing along those lines as little by little, the image of a raven wearing a crown slowly showed itself to you. You’d held back from telling him how you felt for so long, now that the opportunity to perhaps go beyond friendship had presented itself and you were not about to let it slip by. But… you had to be careful. It was a delicate matter and that called for delicate handling. The last thing you wished to do was destroy your friendship with him.

With that, you lowered your hand “It’s lovely.”

“Thank you.”

“This is for you, by the by.” You pressed the package toward him. “I know Yule isn’t for several more days, but when I went to pick this up, I grew far too impatient to wait.”

He stared down at it. “What is it?”

“Well, you have to open it to find out.”

He took the package and slowly unwrapped it and then just stared, his blue eyes growing shiny as he murmured, “How did you know?”

“You told me, silly.” You nudged him with your shoulder. “Remember? We were talking about how my neighbor plays the harpsichord and how awful it sounds and you told me you once played the harp. So, I asked Mr. Trumble if he could find me a harp for you and he did me one better. He made this.”

“He—” those blue eyes met yours, wide and incredulous—“made this?”

You nodded. “He did, indeed.”

He gazed down at the harp, and then back at you. “I—this—this is beautiful. I thank you.”

“There is one condition to it, however.” You nudged him once more. “You must play it for me.”

“Oh, I couldn't now. I’d be far too rusty.”

“Well, once you flake off all the rust.”

“Fair enough.” He offered up a smile brighter than any you’d ever seen from him. “You shouldn’t have done this, though. Save your wages, don’t spend them on me.”

“I didn't mind.” You shrugged as if you spent that kind of money all the time. “And it’s Yule, so it was but a small sacrifice.”

He stepped closer. “This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me, you know. I will treasure it. And you.”

And with that, he leaned in and to your surprise, pressed his lips to yours. You froze at first, caught by utter surprise, as this was the last thing you’d expected him to do. For one maddening moment, you wondered if perhaps you were just imagining it.

But then, his lips moved softly against yours and your toes actually curled in your sensible boots when he brought his hands up to cup your face, and you knew that this was, in fact, actually happening. And how wonderful it was! The sensations that rippled through you were soft and sweet, the crisp, coarse hair around his mouth tickling at first, but then you found you didn't mind it so much as it was a caress of its own. 

Your head did a slow spin, his kiss leaving you lightheaded and when your hands came to rest on those massive upper arms of his, your fingers pressed into muscle that greatly resembled stone of their own accord. You were afraid your weak knees might buckle on you at any moment.

His kiss was slow and sweet, teasing and gentle and when his lips parted and his tongue swept gently along yours, your head spun even faster. A rush of heat swept through you. Your lips tingled. Your heart beat harder and faster and it took every bit of will you had to not melt right into his arms. 

When he drew back, his eyes were soft, swirling with an emotion you couldn’t quite place and he seemed as breathless as you were as he murmured, “I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time now.”

“What?”

He nodded. “I do and I did and now I just want to do it again.” Then he paused, a hint of sheepishness creeping into his smile, into his eyes, “Unless, of course, you’d rather I didn’t.”

“No, I’d not rather that at all,” you told him, smiling as you curved a hand against his cheek. “In fact, I’d like it very much if you would do it again. And again. And I think you should keep doing, no matter where we might be.”

A low chuckle rumbled up from the depths of his chest. “So, I am not about to send you screaming into the snow?”

“Hardly.” 

“Are you certain? I mean,” he rubbed his bearded jaw ruefully, a sheepish smile coming to his lips, “I know people whisper about me and poke fun at me behind my back.”

“They whisper about you because they are fascinated by you. And no one pokes fun at you. I know they think you’re quite an excellent smithy, judging by what I’ve heard. And I won’t even tell you what the women say about you.”

To your surprise, his sheepish smile faded and a darkness came to his eyes. “I can only imagine.”

“Have I said something wrong? I thought I was complimenting you. Do dwarves not like to hear how handsome they are thought to be?”

“Handsome?” He snorted as he shook his head. “That’s kind of you, but I’ve seen my own face and that is not how I’d describe it.”

“Well, perhaps you should but have Mr. Sinclair examine your eyes, for you are not only handsome, but very handsome.”

He stared at you, clearly not believing a word you said. “Thank you, but you are just being kind, as you’ve been since we met.”

“Thorin,” you caught his hands in yours, “I’ve been wishing you’d notice me as more than simply your friend, that you’d kiss me, and perhaps I’ve been too brazen in taking the first step. If you wish me to leave you alone, I will.”

“Leave me alone?” His eyes went wide and he shook his head once more. “No, no, I don’t wish that at all. In fact, I—”

A scarlet flush swept up into his cheeks and he went quiet. You waited for him to continue, your heart hammering away at your ribs. All you wanted was for him to pull you into his arms, to tug you flush against that massive chest, and kiss you until you forgot your name.

“You what?” you asked softly.

“I lied. About the sword.” He smiled then. “It’s for you, actually. For Yule. I meant it to be a surprise.”

“For me? But I don't even know who to wield one.”

“Worry not, for I will teach you. When the weather breaks.”

“You did this for me? You would do that for me?”

He nodded. “I would do anything for you, you know.” His eyes softened then as he smiled. “I love you.”

This was the last thing you ever expected him to say and you could only stare at him for a long moment, as your stupid brain forgot how to process words. The best you could muster was a whispered, “What?”

“I love you. I’ve been wanting to tell you for some time now, but how could I when I thought you would be embarrassed to be courted by me. So, I relegated myself to knowing we would only ever be friends, but now…”

“Embarrassed to be courted by you? Are you mad, Thorin? Are you absolutely and completely mad? Because you would have to be to think any woman alive would be embarrassed to be courted by you.” You shifted to wind your arms about his neck. “And no one has ever made something for me. At least, not something as beautiful as a sword. So, if I didn't already love you in return, I would have most definitely fallen at this moment.”

He smiled. “So, all this time, it would’ve only taken a sword to win your hand?”

“I’m a very simple woman, Thorin. You should know that by now.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he eased his arms about your waist, pulling you flush against him. He leaned closer, his lips just brushing yours as he murmured, “I’ll keep it in mind.”

You tried to think of something witty to reply with, but then his lips met yours once more and rendered words unnecessary.

***

Like it? Love it? Reblog it! Comments are also welcomed!

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketchy-loo6195 @sherala007 @enchantzz @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @msjava1972 @buckybarnes-thorin @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @albionscastle @absentmindeduniverse @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms

[leaentries]

karma | quinn hughes

summary: sleeping with your best friend's boyfriend proves to bring major heartache, even if you broke things off. he was the man you weren't supposed to love, but karma has a funny way of working.

warnings: angsty themes, cheating, swearing, manipulation, gold-digging

wc: 2.4k+

a/n: surprise! here is my first quinn fic on a random thursday at 2:30am! I honestly didn't know where I was going with this when I started writing, but then I got carried away...

Karma. Was it real? Many people could beg to differ, however, in this moment… you felt the repercussions. 

The sound of your cries echoed throughout the empty bathroom. Thunderous cheers muffled their way through the cement walls. The cool tiles pressed into your exposed legs as you sat on the ground. Sobs wracked through your worn body. 

You asked for this, didn’t you? 

The words you said to him rang in your ears. Those cruel and unregarding words. Yet, he needed to hear them. 

❥.

“I want my life back, Quinn. My life before you.”

Your throat ached, your cheeks bright red with tears violently pouring down. Not that Quinn looked much better. This was the worst fight the two of you have ever had. All of the screaming, crying, cursing, it felt like it would never end. Although this was a long time coming, it still didn’t stop the bone-crushing pain that seeped its way into your heart. You knew you were gonna hurt him, but you also knew you had to. He was becoming too attached. 

You both agreed when you started this fling it was only temporary. C’mon, how could a true relationship form when he was dating your best friend? He promised he wouldn’t fall for you, regardless of how shitty Bethany treated him. That was your reasoning, the only thing you could use to push away the heaving guilt of sleeping with your best friend’s boyfriend. 

Still, karma always came around full circle.

And here it was, in the form of Quinn getting down on one knee in front of an arena full of people. The diamond glimmered in the bright lights, the flashes of cameras making it that much prettier. The look on his face was nothing short of love, but not for the girl in front of him, no, rather for the girl standing beside her. Bethany’s eyes filled with tears at the sudden proposal. Nodding her head “Yes” rapidly. 

You felt suffocated, needing nothing more than to leave. You turned, making your way through the dense crowd, finding the nearest private staff bathroom. 

❥.

This is where you remained until you were able to properly breathe again. In this moment, in this stupid bathroom, you found yourself praying the harsh words you told Quinn that night would become a reality. Alas, maybe sometimes karma isn’t always out to get you. 

A knock sounded from the other side of the steel door. Standing, you used the wall to maintain your balance. You walked over, to unlock the door, forgetting to check your disheveled form in the mirror. 

There was a sliver of hope that remained in your heart at the possibility of Quinn choosing you. You knew it was selfish, especially after you practically ripped his heart out when he told you he loved you. You gripped the handle, sucking in a quick breath. You opened the door slowly, only to be met with Bethany’s gleaming eyes. You looked down, shamefully filled with disappointment. 

Bethany slightly shoved you out of the way, barging into the single room. You paused a moment, taking a beat to compose yourself before facing your best friend.

Turning around, you saw Bethany fixing her chestnut hair in the warped mirror. She looked so happy. And you felt so guilty. 

Now even though Bethany wasn’t the most selfless person, or even the most caring, regardless you still felt the weight of what you and Quinn had hanging from your shoulders. She has been in your life since you moved to Vancouver 3 years ago. She was your very first friend and a betrayal like that was not easily forgiven. 

“Y/n, I cannot believe he proposed! I mean, I honestly thought he was gonna break up with me, you know? Remember how I was telling you how he started getting super distant and his responses were super short? I guess it was just his nerves. God! I’m so excited to plan the wedding!” Bethany blabbered on and on about her new wedding plans and how great being married to Quinn was gonna be. 

You tried to fake a smile, but the tears in your eyes were hard to ignore. Hell, even Bethany noticed. 

“Are you okay? You have mascara running down your face.” She approached you, getting a closer look at your blotched face. 

 Her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You were positive she was gonna see the guilt and sadness etched deep in your eyes. 

“Awww, y/n/n! You’re crying out of happiness!” She brought you into a hug. You wrapped your arms around her loosely, troubled at her statement. Here, you were, clearly upset, and she couldn’t get over herself long enough to notice. That may be selfish and inconsiderate, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

Bethany quickly started up again, rambling on more. You stood, leaning against the wall barely paying attention to a single word that fell from her lips. That was until you heard her say, “I mean, shit, this relationship wasn’t even supposed to go this far.” 

Your head snapped up, looking at Bethany through the mirror. “What do you mean, “wasn’t supposed to go this far?” 

She turned towards you, “Back when we first started hanging out, you know, around the same time you moved here. Basically, Jacie had made a bet that I couldn’t bag a professional athlete. I told her to bite me and watch.” Anger flooded your veins, Quinn was just a bet to her? 

The man who kissed every inch of your body and ran his hands over each divot in your skin. The man who practically begged you to love him back. The man who you let get away, just to spare the feelings of your so-called “best friend.” 

“Originally it was just supposed to be a hit-and-run type of deal, but the poor dude latched on to me, and what can I say? I loved the attention. Now I’ll look even better with the Hughes’ name.” She finished with a satisfied smile. 

Fury coursed through your entire body, you saw red. “You’re fucking using him?” 

Bethany looked shocked at your tone. “I-I mean not, technically.”

“No. None of this technical bullshit, Bethany. Are you in love with him?” 

The conflict was reflected in her features, “Love is a strong word, but I definitely care for him.” 

You were in utter disbelief. To think you gave up the only man who you’ve ever truly loved to help the stranger standing in front of you. Your teeth ground together in anger. “Then why the fuck are you marrying him?” 

Now it was her turn to get angry, “Because he asked me, y/n. Why the hell do you even care? It’s not like you are the one getting engaged to him.” 

Even though she had no idea what went on between you and Quinn, her statement still felt like a deliberate punch to the gut. Yet, she was right. You weren’t the one he proposed to, you weren’t the one he chose. Except, you were.

❥.

“Please, y/n. Don’t lie to me. I know you love me too. You say the words and I’ll leave her. Just please, say something.” Quinn begged you. His chest heaving with panic and worry. He was scared to lose you. 

You knew you couldn’t bear to hurt Quinn, but Bethany was your best friend and you couldn’t hurt her either. That is the only reason the following words left your mouth, the words that made Quinn drop everything and leave you that instant, never looking back. 

“I’ve never loved you. I'm just sorry I let it go on for so long, I could have saved you some grief.” 

❥.

You hurt Quinn for her, and for that, she could never be forgiven. “Why do I care? Oh, I don’t know, probably because you’re about to marry someone you don’t even love, Bethany. I mean do you even have a fucking brain? Why the actual fuck would you ever hurt someone like that? What are you gonna do if Quinn finds out that you’re using him? I bet you don’t even care. God, you are such a selfish bitch. I can’t believe I hurt Quinn for you.” 

Bethany stood in silence for a moment, taking in everything you said to her. To your surprise, she didn’t yell back. Her voice remained stoic, “I figured. You just proved my theory. You know, it’s really rich. You standing there calling me a selfish bitch when you were the one sleeping with my boyfriend.” 

You immediately attempted to deny, not for your own sake, but Quinn’s. However, Bethany cut you off, “Shut your fucking mouth. I had suspicions you two were hooking up. I mean, c’mon no one becomes that close that quickly. And the way Quinn looked at you? I’m surprised he didn’t fuck you in the middle of the room to claim your ass. He never looked at me like that. So yeah, I said yes to his proposal because for once he chose me, not you, me.” 

She walked closer to you, her face remained still, voice stern, “But don’t worry, I’ll take care of him when he’s in my bed instead.” She flashed her ring at you, “Except, this isn’t temporary. It’s forever” She whispered the last part. 

Bethany took one last glimpse in the mirror before grabbing her bag and leaving the bathroom without sparing you another look. 

You slowly sink back down to the floor, a new round of sobs shaking your body. The feeling of finally losing Quinn was too much for your knees to hold up. You clawed at your chest, the undeniable pain making it hard to breathe. 

❥.

You eventually gathered yourself up and left the bathroom. Planning on making a b-line to the back door and straight to your car, you didn’t bother to fix the redness of your skin or the blatant mascara still running down your cheeks. 

Walking at a brisk pace, you weren’t completely paying attention to where you were going. You didn't think to look up until you were met with a solid body almost knocking you over with the collision.

There they were, those gorgeous eyes that brought you so much joy, yet so much heartache. The eyes that belong to the man you weren’t supposed to love. Quinn picked up on your distressed state instantly. He had always been able to read your cues. 

“What’s wrong, y/n?’ His voice was distant like he was trying not to get swept into you. Quinn knew the second he reopened that wound, there was no shutting it. That’s one of the reasons he decided to propose to Bethany. It was a feeble attempt to keep you out; To pretend you never existed. 

This proved to be harder than he thought. Everywhere Quinn went he saw you, saw things that reminded him of you. He knew it was wrong to be so consumed by you, but he couldn’t help it. 

Quinn snapped back into focus when you shook your head, trying to get out of his hands that rested on your arms. “I’m fine, Quinn.” You hesitated to say his name, which didn’t go unnoticed by him. He removed his hands with a slight wince, clearly still sore over your rejection. 

Yet, something came over him. He wanted the truth. If he was marrying Bethany, the least he deserves is some truth from you. Quinn grabbed your arm once more, leading you into a side room, quickly shutting and locking the door.

“What the hell?” You exclaimed, not happy with the current situation. “Let me out, Quinn.” 

He crossed his arms, blocking the door with his toned body. “Give me the truth, Y/n. Why are you crying?” Quinn would be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping the reason was because of his engagement. Even if he didn’t want to admit it, Quinn still loved you. 

“It’s nothing, really,” Trying to come up with an excuse, you became desperate, “I am just super overwhelmed at work and it’s just taking a toll, I guess.” You were confident in your answer, it was simple enough and believable. There was no way he wouldn’t believe it. 

“You’re lying. You are on vacation right now. Y/n, I’m being serious. Tell. me. The. truth. I am so sick of all the lies and deceit. Give me something, please.” His begging only made your feelings worse. He didn’t know how badly you wanted to tell him you loved him. It would be so easy. 

Maybe that’s why you decided to throw out all logic and be selfish. You deserved to be selfish. “Fine, Quinn. You want the truth? I’m in love with you. I always have been. I lied to you that night, all those awful, fucked up things I said. They were all lies.” Saying it out loud brought a euphoric sense of relief. 

Quinn was rendered speechless. He was filled with anger, confusion, but most of all: love. The girl he loved most finally loved him back. He searched your face for any signs of uncertainty. Finding none, he stepped towards you.

“Say that again.” He demanded. 

You looked at him confused. “Wha-” He cut you off.

“Tell me you love me. Please, for the love of god, tell me you love me.” 

Mustering up more courage, you spoke more defined this time, “I am in love with you, Quinn Hughes. And there is nothing that could ever change that.” 

Quinn cupped your face, pulling your lips to meet his in a blaze. The anger, fear, and love were all present as you gripped onto his bicep. The kiss got heated quickly, Quinn backing you against the opposite wall. Your mouths met in a clash of teeth and tongue, desperate to feel each other again. When you eventually pulled away, you both took a moment, basking in the feeling of holding the other. The restless nights of longing were finally over. All the sneaking around and guilt was pushed aside. 

Quinn was the first to break the silence, “I’m gonna go end things with Bethany.” You met his eyes. He brought his hands back up, wiping away some of the stray makeup. “Even with runny mascara and messy hair, you’re beautiful.” 

For the first time that day, you truly smiled. The pain in your chest was gone, replaced with an undeniable warmth. As Quinn placed one last kiss on your lips and left to go end his engagement, you realized something.

Karma really does have a way of coming back full circle.

[lets-try-some-writing]

The Qualities of a Leader

Heatwave struggles with knowing when to be firm as the leader of the Rescue Bots. Optimus gives him a few pointers.

Enjoy my contribution to the Rescue Bots zine! @turbofox-zines

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Heatwave, is something troubling you?” Optimus came to stand beside him, startling Heatwave slightly as the far larger mech came to a stop.

“No Sir.” Heatwave answered simply as he watched his team and their human wards play a few feet away. From what Heatwave could see, they were fighting over what movie they wanted to watch that evening. A ridiculous waste of time in his opinion.

“There is no need to lie. What is concerning you?” Optimus looked down at him, the elder mech’s optics glowing in what could have been concern. Heatwave did not dare assume anything about the Prime, but he answered nonetheless.

“I don’t understand how they do it.” He replied as he gestured toward where Blades and Cody were laughing, the younger of the duo throwing a pillow at the helicopter’s helm. Boulder laughed and Chase chastised them both as Kade and Dani chuckled. Graham was out doing some sort of work, and so there was no one to serve as the mediator between the human young present. It was absolute chaos.

“What do you mean?” The Prime questioned gently, very nearly causing Heatwave to do a double take with how soft Optimus’s voice was. He still half expected Optimus to scream orders like every other soldier or commander Heatwave had the displeasure of meeting. Kindness was surprising.

“How can they sit and play around with the organics under our supervision? We are Rescue Bots, not newspark sitters.” Heatwave answered honestly, agitation lacing his tone as his plating flared in response to the group before him growing more rowdy. Did they forget they were at war? They had duties to fulfill.

“Is their mingling truly a detriment?” Optimus asked with the tone of a patient mentor questioning their ward. 

“It wastes time. We could be doing other things, preparing to move out, or even training. But instead, they are… playing games and watching films.” Heatwave attempted to explain while doing his best to not be ruffled by the Prime’s choice of words. He was not a newspark, he did not need to be coddled.

“Heatwave, a soldier cannot always be on watch, nor can a Rescue Bot forever be at the ready. Rest is as essential as skill.” Optimus laid a servo on Heatwave’s shoulder, prompting the firetruck to pause in his brooding to look up in confusion. The Prime offered a kind smile before he continued.

“I have a feeling this is not entirely about the recreational activities of your companions.” The Prime met his gaze kindly, and Heatwave grumbled.

“I just don’t get it. Why do they even bother with these activities? The humans will never understand us, they will never be able to. It's always us who have to make the effort to understand them.” He gestured over to the humans again, his face set into a scowl even as his spark spun in longing. Why did he care about what they were doing? He was their leader. If they weren’t going to be serious, then he had to in their stead.

“We live in dark times, Heatwave. Our world is dead and war rages on all sides. This island is a small safe haven, a place of peace.” Optimus’s voice broke Heatwave from his brooding. He shuffled from pede to pede as the Prime gained a distant look in his optics, one Heatwave saw in Bumblebee too. 

“The Rescue Bots may not be on the front lines, but you all feel the pressure of what looms in the future. There is no shame in seeking comfort where it is offered.” Wisdom seemed to emanate from Optimus as he smiled comfortingly, although it did little to ease Heatwave’s discomfort. Despite the way his plating felt too tight for his frame, he sighed and conceded.

“I can’t just go playing games, Sir. I have to lead and keep them in line.” Heatwave admitted softly, trying hard not to let his spark ache as he watched Boulder laugh at Chase tripping over something or other. He hated to admit it, but he wanted to be with them too.

“Yes, you are their leader. However, you are also a fellow Autobot. A leader must know when to be firm and when to mingle with those under his command.” The words registered, but Heatwave paused in uncertainty. 

“What are you suggesting?” He questioned his superior officer somewhat hesitantly. Optimus again gained that faraway look before he patted Heatwave on the back in a friendly manner.

“Go and enjoy these moments while they are available. Come the dawn, you will need to bear the burden of leadership again, but for now, you can rest Heatwave. You are a fine leader, and there is no shame in allowing the mantle to fall for a while.” There was something so extremely tired in the way Optimus spoke. It left Heatwave reeling a bit as the Prime continued.

“View it as a team building exercise if you must, but allow yourself a moment to vent. Even the strongest leaders require rest and companionship.” There was wisdom in his words, wisdom that Heatwave had next to no time to process before the Prime wandered off, waving to him as he did so. Heatwave stood there dumbly for a while, his processor thrown into overdrive as he contemplated. 

Perhaps… Optimus was right.

“Team building exercise…” Heatwave mumbled as he took a deep vent and stepped closer to his rambunctious team and human wards. They were bickering over a film of some sort. Chase was holding up what looked to admittedly be an incredibly dull documentary, Boulder had a cartoon on DVD that he was advocating for, and Blades was quick to hold up another case with cheap looking monsters on the cover.

“Heatwave! We are going to watch a horror film! Could you sit with me please?” Blades asked timidly as Cody took the film and threw it into the DVD player before anyone else could get a word in. Chase grumbled, Dani pouted, and Kade laughed. Heatwave for his part sighed as Blades looked up at him pleadingly. 

“You are a real crybaby sometimes, you know that, Blades?” Dani, ever the jester, prodded playfully from where she had chosen to drape herself on a nearby platform, blankets and pillows galore. 

“Horror movies are scary!” The helicopter insisted as the film began to play the opening sequences. Blades jumped as a cheap looking zombie wandered on screen alongside the title of the film, prompting Kade to laugh. 

“The blood is all fake, and you can clearly see the editing software effects-” Chase attempted to point out the lack of any real scare factor in the film as Heatwave edged closer subconsciously. The desire to be involved along with the all encompassing urge to stop any fights before they could start had him drawing nearer to the mess of blankets and other soft cushioning strewn about before he knew it.

“Way to ruin the mood.” Cody pouted as he settled down on Chase’s lap. The police car for his part did not react beyond pulling up a blanket for the youngest of their human wards as the movie began to roll.

“Half the fun of horror movies is laughing at the bad effects.” Kade remarked as he too settled in around Boulder’s pedes. The usually brash fireman seemed completely at ease as he snacked on some popcorn.

“Blades has a point, though. The jump scares can be a bit much.” Boulder added before Cody shushed him.

“Enough. I will sit with you Blades.” Heatwave, realizing he was practically wrapped up in the blankets, sat down beside his skittish teammate. There was no point trying to wander off with dignity now. Besides, what could be the harm in staying? Patrols were done and work for the next cycle was already completed. By staying, he could keep an optic on his team and settle his spark’s anxious spin. 

“Really?! I didn’t think-” Blades looked up at him with starry optics, to which Heatwave rolled his own in a fond manner.

“Yeah, yeah now be quiet so we can watch this film.” Heatwave grumbled without any true agitation lacing his tone. To the humans he must have sounded as gruff as always, but to his fellows it was quite clear that his glyphs had no true bite.

He was content, and so was his team.

“Thank you, Heatwave.” Blades whispered as the movie began and horribly cheap special effects assaulted their vision. It was such a ridiculous activity, but Heatwave found himself enjoying it all the same. On a planet not their own and in a structure not made by their kind, they were watching a stupid movie and all was right with the world. 

Maybe Optimus was right. A little downtime couldn’t hurt. Team building exercises were essential, after all. 

“You’re welcome.” Heatwave murmured as he felt himself calm for the first time in weeks. He was safe, and he was home, at least for now.

[adrift-in-thyme]

I wrote this a few months ago for Febuwhump...Day 13 I think? I was super excited about sharing it. But when my schedule got crazy I had to change my plans and didn't get a chance to post it.

So here it is now!

CW for blood, injury, vomiting, and torture (including sleep deprivation)

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

Another slap snaps Time’s head back, stinging across his face. Stars explode before him and turn the semi-darkness spotty. He grits his teeth against the rising tide of nausea.

“I asked you a question.” A wiry, whiskered man leans forward, malice glinting in his small, rat-like eyes. “And you will answer me.”

Time drags in a breath. The air is stale, tinged with the sickening iron scent of metal chains and his blood. His attackers loom over him, knuckles red from their assaults upon him, faces sneering.

He ignores them. He has seen quite enough of them, after all, in the past few days. And he doesn’t doubt that he will be seeing quite a bit more. 

He has no plans to give in anytime soon. It doesn’t matter how they pressure him, or how many torture methods they try. He will never give up one of their own.

“I told you,” he croaks, “I do not know anyone with the power to resurrect Ganon.”

A meaty fist grasps his shoulder, fingers digging into the stab wound there. Time just barely manages to bite off a scream. 

“Wrong answer!”

The man steps closer. The magic that emanates from him is all wrong. Upside down and inside out and not his own in the least. The people he has dragged it out of, stolen it from, cry out with every movement he makes. It is all Time can do not to gag as the sounds and smells of it smother him.

“I am a sorcerer– ” 

“You’re a thief and a coward,” Time spits. Fingers turn into a fist, slamming into his wound with a ferocity that makes him lightheaded. He hardly hears his own cry. 

“I am a sorcerer,” the man repeats. He grabs Time’s chin, forces his head up so he has no choice but to look at him. “One who has sworn his very life to the Demon King. I have the power to do what must be done. I will bring him back and help him take his rightful place as ruler of Hyrule. I need only for you to give me the answer I seek.”

A bitter smirk lifts Time’s lips, even as blood drains down from them. 

“Ganondorf would be ashamed to have a follower such as you. How long have you held me here now? Four days? And you have wasted that time on repeating the same question. Perhaps, you should use that skill with magic you pretend to possess and find another avenue to resurrect him. Because searching for someone who can do it for you is a fool’s errand.”

Another blow knocks his head back. It hits the damp stone wall with a nauseating crack. Time pitches forward, retching, and the wizard steps back and out of the way. 

“You are full of pride, hero,” he sneers. “You forget your place, you ignore your situation.”

Time skewers him with as severe a glare as he can muster. “I have not forgotten either. In fact, I know them quite well. Which is why I have told you the truth. No person exists with the blood that can resurrect Ganon.”

“Truth? What truth? You have done nothing except to mock me and spew lies.”

The sorcerer whirls away and a streak of flame zips through Time’s veins. He cannot restrain his harsh cry as agony washes over him. But just as quickly as it comes, it is gone. And he has a split second to drag in a few, desperate wheezing breaths. Then, the sorcerer begins to speak once more, every word like another assault. 

“You are correct in one way, however. I have consistently used the same methods to pry the words from you. No torture, whether by magic or physical harm, has moved you from your stance of silence.” He pauses, hand held to his chin in contemplation. “Perhaps, it is time to try another avenue. Bring in the other one.”

With a wave of one bony hand, his companions jolt into action, rushing from the room, and slamming the leaden door behind them. 

Time’s eye widens, fear slicing through him. He had thought he was the only one the thugs had captured. He had been alone, after all, scouting the far perimeters of the camp, when they had knocked him out. 

The sorcerer looks back at him, now, a sly grin stretching his wide mouth.

“Your little friend happened to spot us dragging you away and decided to try and be a hero. Fortunately, my little sleeping spell worked as effectively to knock him out as it did with you.”

The door slides open with an eerie creak and Time turns toward it, heart in his throat.  

“Ah.” The sorcerer sets a hand on his shoulder, fingernails digging through his tunic. “And there was another fortunate development for us. You well know that my spells are excruciating. Wonderful for convincing, to be certain. But you spared me the trouble of exerting too much magical energy on you two. You are quite the collector of masks, it seems. And while some were childish at best, others have proven…very useful.”

A familiar form stumbles over the threshold, wrists clasped in the unforgiving grip of manacles. His tunic and trousers are splotched with dirt and dried blood and his shoulders sag with exhaustion. His long, blonde hair has been freed from its hair band and falls limply forward to hide his features. But his ears peek through it and the sight of them makes Time’s stomach turn. 

They are encased in a prison of wiry black metal. Time would recognize that sight anywhere. 

“No,” he breathes.

Wild lifts his head and the leaden weight in Time’s gut twines itself tighter. 

The cage of unyielding obsidian extends to the rest of his face, curving in web-like strands across his cheeks and forehead. Eyes once the same shade as Malon’s are now blood red and rimmed in white. They stare wide and terrible, fixed in an expression of permanent horror. 

Despite it all, a shaky grin quirks Wild’s lips. 

“H-hey, old man,” he slurs, fumbling to keep his feet beneath him.

His captor practically drags him the rest of the way into the room. They hurl him down beside Time and he lands on the hard floor with a grunt. 

Laughter rings out, echoing off of the walls of the cell and Time drags his attention away from his cub to scowl at the wizard. The man meets his stare without fear.

“I don’t have to explain the implications of this little development to you, do I? You know full well what that horrid device of yours does.”

He turns away, arms crossed and a victorious smirk on his face. “It has been four days for him as well. Four without a wink of sleep. I wonder…how long can one go without slumber? I will leave you both to ponder that.”

The door screams as it is once again pulled open. And the sorcerer glides out in a rush of nauseating power and swishing robes.

“What a creep,” Wild mumbles, gazing at the spot where he had stood. He lists slightly to the side, bumping against Time’s uninjured shoulder. Time wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. 

“Have they truly forced you to wear that for four days?” He asks, worry turning his tone sharp. His own pain seems inconsequential now, the ache of his wounds a far-off thing. All that matters is the broken boy slumped against him.

Jerkily, Wild nods. A small sniffle sounds from beneath the mask. 

Time’s heart clenches. “Oh, cub, I’m so sorry.”

The champion shrugs, weakly. “Least it doesn’t…doesn’t put me to sleep. Rather be kept ‘wake.” He giggles, drunk on exhaustion, fighting against the tears Time hears in his voice. “And ‘sides…got hundred years of sleep under m-my belt. Gotta count…right? Be fine.”

With a sigh, he shifts, head slipping down to rest on Time. The harsh edges of the mask bite into his abused flesh. But he doesn’t move away. The least he can do is act as Wild’s makeshift pillow. 

If he could, he would tear the mask off of him and shatter it on the hard ground. But once the cursed thing has latched onto its victim’s face, only the one who put it there can remove it. And if the blood visible beneath its dark edges is any indication, Wild has already learned what happens to anyone else who attempts it.

“They hur-hurt you too,” the champion murmurs, after a pause. His tone is more somber now and fearful. Like a lost child, pleading with a parent for reassurance. “I…I can’t really see straight anymore but…they told me…they told me they were. ‘M sorry.”

Time shakes his head. “Don’t worry about me, cub. I’m alright.”

Gently, he brushes Wild’s bangs back, trying not to wince as his fingertips touch icy metal rather than warm skin. The champion leans into his touch, curling up like the barn cats do when they are seeking warmth. Any other time, the older hero would find it amusing. Now, it only makes his heart ache.

“Can’t tell them,” Wild mumbles, barely audible now. “Can’t tell ‘bout Rule.”

Time draws in a trembling breath. “No.”

But that doesn’t mean there aren’t other ways to save his cub from this terrible fate. And by the goddesses, he is going to find them. Even if he has to burn the place down.

[milkywaydrabbles]

Number 6 stuck in the wall with adrian tepes!

I've never seen that done with him before!

A/N: wait I had so much fun writing this lmao. I don't ever really think about stuck in the wall as a trope but damn it's good. Anyways here's the drabble and I hope you like it mwuah.

CW: doggy, pet names, smut

Stuck in the wall x Adrian Tepes

"Oh fucking hell!" You groaned, trying to concentrate enough to get yourself out. You were stuck in quite the predicament—literally. Recently today, you'd learn a fun new spell that would let you move through walls —almost like your body on an anatomical level vibrated so quickly it let you pass through solids. You were having the time of your life once you learned to control it, jumping in and out of rooms throughout the castle keeping you entertained for hours. It was fun enough, with Adrian being out for the majority of the day helping the village people, it kept you busy. But you got reckless. You started going too quickly through the walls, foot catching on a rug in between walls and you came tumbling down. You braced yourself for impact except it didn't come in the form of a flat surface colliding with your face, no that would be too easy. It came in the form of whiplash as you accidentally trapped yourself within the wall, top half of your body in one room while the bottom half of your body was out in the hallway. And you were alone. "Fuck!" You groaned, trying your hardest to remember the incantation. But you were too fucking frustrated to remember anything at this point. Thank God you had least had the sense to open the door as a just in case. You hated that you needed it.

"What interesting wall decor I seem to have stumbled upon." A familiar voice teased with a hint of a chuckle. This is not how you wanted him to find you. "Adrian, please, I've embarrassed myself enough" you groaned, face heating up out of shame. "You know I'll need a story here darling" you huffed, and told him the series of unfortunate events that led up to you being stuck in the wall. "please, can you read me the spell so that I can get myself out of here?" There was silence, and at first you thought maybe he had left to go and get the book. But then it took a smidge too long. ".... Adrian?" You waited again, before you felt a hand caressing your ass. "I could" he started "but what do I get out of it?" More teasing.

"You cannot be serious right now." Was he being serious?

A light tap to your cheek. "I could help you get out. But that wouldn't be fun would it?" Oh, he was being serious.

"Adrian, honey" you tried to reason "I'll go down on you after you get me out if that's what you want." A pause. And then a hum. And then another, harder smack. "That's not what I want. I think I want you like this." You squirmed under his touch, bracing your hands on the wall as if you would be able to get out. "Adrian.." you breathed out. "Will you let me sweetheart? I promise I'll help you get out...just let me have fun yeah?" You nodded, forgetting that he couldn't see you before feeling another smack and you yelped. "Words, baby." "Y-yes, yes Adrian."

His hands started peeling back your pants and underwear, making it a point to drop them slowly. As he pushed them further down he blew on your tight cunt, hearing you gasp from the other side and seeing you rubbing your thighs together. He landed on his knees as your clothes dropped into the floor, not bothering to take them off your ankles. "Look how messy you already are" he cooed, using two fingers to spread your lips apart, seeing you clench. You whimpered, too embarrassed to speak. Adrian always got you so wet so quickly, ready to take him at any point. "Don't worry baby, I got you." And with that he dipped his tongue deep into your cunt. You cried out in pleasure, already trying to fuck back on his tongue to no avail —you really were stuck, after all. His tongue traveled from out of your pussy to tease your clit, before latching his lips on. He moaned around you, loving the way you tasted.

"Adrian!" You gasped, knees buckling from how good he was eating you. He practically made out with your cunt, slapping your ass every now and again. Two fingers teased the entrance of your hole as his tongue flicked the sensitive nub. The thickness and length of his fingers stretched you out deliciously, feeling him immediately finding that spongy part that had you seeing stars. "Will you come for me? I want to taste you" he nearly growled, and you can only imagine how wild he looked right now. It made you gush around his digits. You trembled and clenched around him, inching closer to release. "ah, ah, ah fuck don't stop. Please Adrian don't stop, pleasepleaseplease—" you sobbed, your lover not easing up his brutal pace. One more suck to your clit and you practically screamed on the other side of the wall, tumbling over the edge and riding out the intense wave of your orgasm.

He was ruthless, though, not giving you enough time to catch your breath before you felt the tip of his cock prodding at your entrance. "You tasted divine, pretty girl, but I need to feel you fully" the pet name caused a shiver throughout your entire body. "please, Adrian, I need it" you hiccuped, trying to wiggle your hips as best you could. "aww, how can I let my sweet girl down?" He taunted, pushing between your folds and not stopping until his hips pushed against your ass. You both moaned, already dizzy with pleasure. He pulled back to tease your nub for just a moment before shoving himself back in at a brutal pace. His balls heavy with cum slapping against your clit and stimulating you more. "fuck darling, you feel so good" he praised, a hand slapping harshly on your ass before squeezing and spreading your cheeks. His other hand braced on the wall, almost as if he wanted to hover over you. "Your pussy is so good"

You cried, babbling over how good he felt inside of you. His hand gripped at your hips, giving him purchase to continue to slam himself into you. A creamy ring formed around his cock, and the squishy sounds reverberated throughout the halls. You would be embarrassed how sopping wet you are if it didn't feel so fucking good. "you're so wet, such a good girl, all for me" Adrian mumbled to himself, looking at the juncture where his hips met yours. He couldn't contain himself longer, and brought his free hand around to rub at your clit. "fuck, Adrian!" You squeezed him, feeling your second orgasm build up quickly. "Come on, love, give me one more " he groaned, slamming himself to reach even deeper inside you. You didn't even have time to brace yourself before your juices covered both your thighs, trembling and shaking for the second time as you came around his dick. That was enough to throw him over the edge and you felt his hot cum spurting deep inside you, cock twitching in your pussy. Adrian fucked his cum into you with a few more thrusts before ceasing his movements. All that was heard was panting throughout the hallways, both of you spent. "Fuck, that was good" he panted, pulling out and seeing his cum ooze out of your pretty puffy pussy. "Yeah," you agreed, breathless. "Yeah it was."

You pause.

"But really Adrian get me out of here."

[distortionbobble]

Royal Flowers Chapter 10

pairing: anakin skywalker x f!reader

series summary: A long, long, time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, a certain Jedi by the name of Anakin Skywalker meets you, the current Queen of Naboo and adopted cousin of Padme Amidala, and is tasked with protecting you by pretending to marry you. As a spy, you’ve infiltrated the Separatist ranks and are close to finding out the mastermind behind all of it. The fate of the galaxy is in your hands.

warnings: minors dni. none this chapter, use of the word jizz in the star wars content (needs a warning because i hated typing it out so much)

prev | next

series masterlist

“Naboo is left with little choice,” you say. The microphone makes your voice echo around the walls of the Senate, distorting it like you distort the truth. You know that the Separatists have influence and strongholds all over the Senate, but you hope that they’ll assume that you still have to act in your capacity as the Queen. Besides, Naboo’s official standpoint is with the Republic, as represented by Senator Amidala. Padme’s in the audience now, nodding quietly as you deliver your speech. “We cannot defeat the Separatists. I strongly encourage the Senate to act, as what is being done is simply not enough. My people are dying and without the leadership of the Republic, Naboo is all but fallen.” 

There’s a certain grief to your words, the kind that accompanies only the fear of the truth. You don’t want Naboo to fall. You don’t want to see fire and death and blood take over your planet, but there’s so little standing in the way of it.

Chancellor Palpatine stands in the center of the Senate, looking exhausted from your remarks as the next planetary system begins their appeal. There’s too much loss to help. It’s chaos, the galaxy is chaos, but you don’t realize you’ve spoken that into the amplifier until everyone turns to look at you. “The galaxy is in chaos. How is the Senate going to fix this?” You shout. “You have neither the resources nor the organization to protect your own citizens!” 

Your words spark an uproar across the Senate floor, a din of noise spreading as arguing and shouting break out. The Chancellor waves his hands frantically as his aides look on in equal panic. One of them, however, isn’t as subtle at hiding his glee. Perhaps he’s Darth Sidious? He was the Aide for Chancellor Valorum as well, wasn’t he? He must be linked to the Separatists in some way. 

“Silence!” Chancellor Palpatine’s voice echoes around the stadium and finally, quiet settles on the Senators. “That’s quite enough from all of you. I dismiss today’s meeting, and I expect that when the Senate gathers tomorrow, all of you—” and at this, he rather pointedly glares at you, “will have learned some decorum.” He waves his hand in quick dismissal, and then Senators all file out, quietly grumbling at the admonition that you all received. 

“I do wish you hadn’t done that,” Padme sighs from next to you. You walk with some distance between yourselves, because it can’t be clear that you do truly hold affection for your dear cousin. “The banquet tonight is in your honor, and you’ve probably caught the eye of some very powerful Senators now.” She stops abruptly as you nod absentmindedly, your thoughts somewhere else. “Oh, no. You didn’t forget about the banquet, did you?” She asks, panic lacing her tone. There’s decorum to be followed, down to the dress that you wear. You need to send the right message— something grand, something that you’ve worn before. You need to represent the finery of Naboo’s former glory, and the fact that it’s now lost. But Padme doesn’t need to worry. You’ve already packed it. 

“Well, what about Anakin’s outfit?” She asks at your nonchalance. That makes you pause. To be honest, you hadn’t really thought that he was coming. You had left from the palace so frantically that the only thing you could conceptualize was yourself, as selfish as it sounded. 

“Shit.”

“It’s okay,” Padme reassures you, placing her hand on the small of your back as you move through the hallways. “I’ll take him to the Royal dressmaker. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it all, you just focus on getting yourself ready.” 

There’s a small part of you that wants to object. Part of you remembers the way that Anakin looked at Padme and wants to protect him from all that hurt that might come from seeing her again. Part of you doesn’t want him to look at her like that ever again. And it’s ridiculous, and you want to squash it; but you can’t act on it. 

You swallow it down instead, and nod. You just have to trust Anakin’s growth and hope that he’ll be okay around her. 

~~~

“You haven’t told her, have you?” Padme says, breaking the silence as the dressmaker wraps the measuring tape around Anakin’s torso. 

“Haven’t told her what?” Anakin responds, a coldness evident in his tone. He doesn’t mean it. It’s just so hard being around Padme, and he can’t help but take it out on her. All the dreams of having children together, being married and living together without the scrutiny of the Jedi Council. The peace and security that he now has with you was only a dream back then.  But he can’t forget the way he’d fret over her, and those dreams that plagued him. They haven’t left him; instead, now they’re focused on you. All those terrible visions, all those ones about you dying, just like how he’d see Padme die—

“Dressmaker,” She calls softly, dismissing him with an elegant nod. Anakin’s arms drop as the dressmaker leaves the room before he turns to her with irritation. 

“Told her about what? The fact that I snapped, killed all those Sand People when my mother died? All those that stood by and watched as my mother died, tortured to the point of being barely able to recognize me?” Anakin’s mouth tastes bitter. He regrets it now, of course he does. After he watched you go through all that you did with Reyna, he hates himself. Fears that he’s a monster, deep down. There’s something that has grown inside him, like a bad seed, rooting out his compassion and replacing it with that endless fury. He’s afraid of himself. And when he looks into Padme’s eyes, he sees that too. She’s afraid of him because she knows what he did. But you? You’re blissfully unaware, and that look in your eyes is still trusting and unafraid. He can’t bear the thought of you holding that same resentment and fear that Padme holds for him. He wants to bury it; bury it deep, deep down, so that you can’t ever see it. No, he wants to protect you from himself. It’s what any good friend would do, right?

Padme sighs. “I know you think the worst of me, Anakin, but I’ve only ever wanted the best for you. I didn’t have a choice, you know this— I couldn’t let you keep going down the path you were going down.” 

“And what path is that?” Anakin shouts. “You think I’d turn to the Dark Side? When I’m the one meant to bring balance to it?” 

“You know damn well you weren’t far from falling to the Dark Side when you did that. I left to protect you, Anakin,” Padme urges, standing up from her chair as she engages Anakin in her argument. 

“I didn’t ask you to protect me, and I damn well didn’t need it!” Anakin responds furiously. 

“We all need someone to protect us,” Padme responds, equally furious in her response as she nears Anakin. And as he looks down at her face, he almost wants to cry— when did it all go so wrong? 

Padme notices almost immediately, pulling his chest to her and holding him as tears begin to well up in his eyes. He won’t cry, he won’t cry, but dammit, he missed Padme. But even as he’s in her embrace, he’s thinking of you. There’s no electricity between him and Padme now; she holds him like she would a friend. He derives no comfort from her touch, and right now, all he can think is how nice it would be to be in your arms instead. 

“We would have been great friends,” Anakin says, a lone tear slipping past his lower lashes, carving out its path on his face. 

“In another life,” Padme responds, her voice muffled as she holds him for just a heartbeat longer. When she pulls back from him, it’s so clear to see that there’s no longing there, just a faded sweetness. She cares about him. It strikes him that he’s so lucky to have people who care, people who want the best for him. 

“I love you,” Anakin says. The words don’t sound right— he’s said them before, he knows how it feels, but this… this feels garbled. Like his vocal cords refuse to cooperate, like they refuse to cave in to his request. They came out wrong, and Padme notices. 

“It’s different now, isn’t it?” Padme asks quietly, taking his flesh hand in her own, then squeezing it lightly. Their former love, turned to a friendship, now feels obvious. It still leaves a feeling in his gut, like there was a dagger that just got pulled out. And all he wants to do now is collapse into your arms.

“Is the dressmaker done?” Anakin asks, swiftly changing topics as he tries to swallow the lump in his throat. Padme smiles, the bittersweetness of their interaction clear on her face. 

And once again, Anakin feels like the villain. 

~~~

It took you nearly double the time it usually takes for you to get ready. You don’t have your handmaidens, after all, nor do you have Anakin. You wonder if he’s okay after seeing Padme. You hope he is. It’s been long enough since they were split for it to make sense that he could see her without losing his calm. You’ve done your makeup, done your hair, each careful movement of your hand and brush creating a masterpiece of presentation. The Senate ball has a purpose, and you’ll maximize your presence there tonight. But Maker, you feel so distracted. You just want Anakin here, to assuage your fears, talk you through the night, because you are scared. You need to show the Separatists that you will allow their plan to go through but also collect enough support to protect your own people, and do all of it without being detected. 

You’re just struggling to do the last button when there’s a knock on the door. A courtesy knock, because the door swings open almost immediately after it. 

“Hey,” Anakin grumbles. His suit is a near-identical match of yours; the colors, the fraying edges, the tailor did it all to a tee. It’s a masterpiece. But you’re so busy admiring the detailing of his outfit that you don’t notice the obvious distress that Anakin’s in. He sits down on the bed with a sigh, looking up at you with that pitiful look that makes you want to hold him in your arms and kiss the crown of his head. A ridiculous thought, you know, but you just want to comfort him. To hold him, to protect him. 

And you shouldn’t feel that way. 

“Was it too much to see Padme?” You ask, almost anxiously. You don’t want him to still be pining over Padme. Maybe it’s selfishness. Maybe it’s because you want him to feel for you what he felt for her. You want him to care about you, to love you, because you’re lost without him. And maybe, just maybe, it’s because you feel that way about him. 

“No,” He sighs, placing his metal hand on his face. He’s tense, and you just can’t pinpoint why. 

“Is it the dreams again?” You ask quietly, to which Anakin nods. He hasn’t been sleeping well for almost a week. He wakes up so often, waking you up too in his terror. When he thinks you’re asleep, he’ll grab your wrist, allowing his fingers to linger on your pulse point as he reassures himself that you’re alive. You’re not sure why he’s so worried. You are just a mission, after all. But you have to admit, it’s nice to have someone care about you like this. Padme, of course, cares and loves you; she’s practically your sister, she almost has to. But she’s so busy and when you started getting more involved with spying, she began to treat every conversation like it was the last one she’d have with you. 

It wasn’t her fault. You don’t blame her. But it doesn’t take away from the fact that Anakin still hopes that you’ll live. It makes part of you think it’s possible, even if logic says otherwise. 

“Are you ready for the ball?” You ask instead, slipping a silver pin into your meticulously-arranged hair.  Anakin nods again, and you make note of his quietness today. You suspect, in part, that it’s because he saw Padme. Maybe he’s still really not over her. The thought of it makes your hand stray to your wedding bracelet, the threaded chain that sits comfortably on your wrist. You think of the way your parents honored their love with a bracelet just like this; to them, it meant something. It meant love, and trust, and you wonder how they’d react to the fact that the one whose chain matches your own is in love with someone else. 

You don’t understand why you can’t stop thinking about it. Why can't you stop thinking about what it would be like for him to love you? Why do you want it so bad? Your finger slips under the chain and you want to tug it, you want to pull it until it snaps against your skin. 

“You missed a button,” Anakin says, his voice gruff. He stands and comes near you, allowing the pads of his fingers to skim down the column of your neck, your spine, before he reaches the top button of your dress. Your eyes close almost involuntarily, desperately trying to focus your racing mind on just the feel of him, even as it seeks out more. It’s hard to breathe. Your heart is racing, heat gathering at the base of your neck where he’d touched you. You can hear his quiet breathing, feel the movement of his fingers as he buttons the last part of your dress. 

You can tell that it’s done from the secureness of your dress, but he lingers behind you still, shadowlike. His hands don’t move from where they rest on your back, and you want to freeze him, freeze right now, and calm your racing heart. It pulses in you violently, spreading the warmth of his touch all over your body until even your fingers feel electrified. Does he know the impact that he has on you? 

But then he steps back, and you’re able to regain your sanity. He probably was struggling to make it stay, something like that. He wouldn’t just be close to you for the sake of being close to you— it’s Anakin, you still remember all that he told you when you first began this mission. And what you’d said to him. He provided you companionship, which was more than what you had asked for, so why does your greedy heart seek out more still? Are you truly that selfish?

“Well, I think it’s time we go,” you say quietly, your hand straying again to the metal chain. It brings you comfort. You don’t want to think about the eventuality of having to break it off. Anakin searches your face, lips parting softly like he wants to say something but not a sound comes out. Instead, he forces them into a smile, offering his arm for you to hold. 

“You look beautiful tonight, milady,” He murmurs as you step into the hallway, heading towards the ball. 

“You look nice as well, Anakin. Naboo suits you,” You say, feeling shy at Anakin’s compliment.  Beautiful. You look beautiful tonight. 

“It does,” He says, looking at you with something hidden in his eyes. It makes your breath hitch in your throat, and for a second, you see Anakin’s gaze dip to your lips. The look is so brief you think you might have imagined it, but maker, now you’re looking at his lips. They look soft and warm, and your heart feels like it’s in your throat the longer you look at him. 

Before you can stop yourself, your hand places itself on his neck, brushing away a stray piece of hair and lingering there as you stammer to explain yourself. “Sorry,” You apologize. You just wanted an excuse to touch him, you know that. 

You can hear the banquet, or ball, whatever it is, from outside as you cross the Senate’s grass lawns. You’re nervous—hopefully you won’t have to deal with the fallout of what you said during the Senate meeting today. Your foolishness makes you swallow hard. Anakin takes note of your nerves and squeezes your hand wordlessly to reassure you. He’s so damn good at reading you, it scares you. 

By the time you can get inside, the party’s in full swing; the normally reserved group of Senators all a few drinks in, laughing boisterously and moving clumsily to the jizz music that plays. It’s an overwhelming scene, and you find yourself clinging tighter to Anakin. You don’t have the capacity to deal with this right now, but you’ve got no choice. The group of Senators that you need to talk to catch your eye, and you squeeze Anakin’s arm, raising yourself slightly to be able to kiss his cheek. It’s all for show, of course. That’s what you’re telling yourself. 

“I’ll be over there,” You say, leaving him to fend for himself. 

Hopefully he’ll be okay. 

~~~

“I see the wife left you all alone, huh?” A Senator comes up to Anakin, clapping his back as he watches you disappear into the crowd. He wants nothing more than to be next to you right now. Anakin Skywalker does not like big crowds. 

“Yep,” He says shortly, clenching his metal hand into a fist as he tries to regulate himself. It’s too loud, too hot, and worst of all, you’re somewhere else. 

“Senator Jubbs, of Tattooine,” The man introduces himself, grabbing Anakin’s hand and shaking it with his sweaty hands. Disdain makes his lip curl but he stops himself, smooths out his expression. He’s not just Anakin, he’s Anakin Lars, husband to the Queen of Naboo. He needs to play it nice. 

“Tattooine, huh?” He asks dryly, subtly reaching to wipe his palms free of the stranger’s sweat. Disgusting. “Not a fan of Tattooine. Sand just doesn’t work for me.”

“Nonsense,” Jubbs splutters, waving over a waiter to get him a drink. “You’ve got to loosen up, my boy, have a drink,” He notes, taking a rather large swig of his own drink. The drink that the waiter hands to Anakin looks jewel-like, and the glass alone looks like it would have been enough money to free his mother and himself. He downs it quickly, hoping to swallow down his anger before it becomes too evident. “So why is it that you don’t like Tattooine? Are you perhaps from our glorious planet?”

Anakin bites back a scoff. “No, just had the pleasure of visiting,” he says. Sarcasm drips off his tone, and the Senator squints at his thinly-veiled insult. 

“You listen here, boy,” The Senator hisses, stepping closer to Anakin aggressively. Anakin’s good enough at reading body language to know that this is only going to mean trouble. “You’ve got a lot of arrogance for someone who looks like they can’t satisfy their own wife. You haven’t even got two hands, for Maker’s sake. One is metal! You might as well be a droid. She’d be better off with someone like myself,” he says, puffing his chest up. 

That gets to Anakin. His face twitches in disgust and anger, his blood boiling as he looks at the Senator. Jubbs is leering at you now, and the audacity of him to talk about his wife like that makes him furious. 

“You’re nothing,” He says to Jubbs, seething. He maintains his voice at a quiet level— no one around him should hear what he says, but he needs to say it anyway. “And when you’re dead, not even the flies will mourn you, you waste of—” 

“My love,” you say from behind him. You sound like an angel, your touch cool to his skin as you place your hand delicately on his shoulder, bringing him down to your face to kiss him softly, sweetly. He doesn’t even care that it’s fake, sweeping you into his embrace and shielding you from Jubbs as he kisses you, frustrated. His teeth nip at your bottom lip, and he can feel his hunger for you slipping out as he kisses you, trying to get more of you than he’s allowed. You move your lips back in kind, your lipstick smudging on his own lips as they meet. 

Anakin feels territorial. Possessive. He wants to get rid of everyone here, he wants to keep kissing you, he can’t get enough of you. He only lets you go when you place your hand on his chest, pushing him away slightly to talk to the Senator. 

“Could you get me a drink, my love?” you say sweetly, using your thumb to wipe the traces of lipstick from the corners of his mouth. Anakin almost pouts at the thought of having to leave your side, but the look in your eyes makes it clear that there’s no room for arguing. After sneaking one last possessive kiss in and glaring at Jubbs, he leaves to get a drink from the tables set up at the edge of the ballroom. 

How dare he talk about my wife like that? I should snap his neck off. I should slice his head clean off. I want to drive my fist through his face, I want to—

“Anakin,” Chancellor Palpatine calls, snapping him away from his violent thoughts. The old man smiles knowingly at the expression on Anakin’s face, coming to stand next to him. “Jubbs has never been the most tactful,” He sighs. “Fortunately, it seems like your wife knows how to handle him.” 

“I wish she didn’t have to handle him,” Anakin grumbles, pouring himself a glass of water as his fingers dance anxiously. 

“You seem on edge tonight, my friend. Come, why don’t we get a bit of fresh air?” Sheev asks kindly, placing a hand on Anakin’s spine to guide him away. When he turns to look back at you, Sheev laughs. “Love is a blinding drug. She’ll be fine, Anakin.” 

The night air blankets him in its cool, allowing him to sneak in a few deep breaths as he tries to wash away both the hunger he feels for you and the anger he still holds for Jubbs. He doesn’t know what came over him, kissing you like that— like he wanted to devour you. It scared him. 

“Now, tell me, Anakin. What is it that’s on your mind?” Sheev asks, looking up to the stars as Anakin sips his water to calm himself down. 

“I keep having these awful visions. Visions where I lose her in a hundred different ways, and I’d do anything to stop them from coming true,” He says, frustrated and scared. He speaks no lies. The thought of losing you is driving him to insanity; he can’t sleep in fear of the visions of you dying. 

“Have you heard of the tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise?” Chancellor Palpatine asks him slyly. “A man so powerful he could stop death itself from reaching his loved ones, just by manipulating the midichlorians. A power that he taught his apprentice before he killed him in his sleep.” 

“Such a power exists?” Anakin asks, his heart thumping loudly. He could keep you alive. He could keep you safe. You’d be able to stay alive, no matter what. 

“Yes,” Palpatine sighs, turning to look at Anakin as if to say go on, ask me more. 

“Where- where could I learn this power?” he asks, his hands clammy as he looks at his friend. 

“Not from a Jedi,” Palpatine responds. “If that’s what you were thinking of.” 

“Then I am alone, with no one to help me,” Anakin murmurs hopelessly. 

“My dear boy, alone? I’m right here,” Palpatine says with a smile. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well,” Palpatine says, smoothing a wrinkle out of his robes. “Before his passing, my master… he taught me much about the Force. Yes, even the Dark Side of it.” 

“How did I know nothing of this?” Anakin asked in his disbelief. 

“I had to hide it, you see. You were still a pawn to the Jedi Council, but now, I see that you know the truth. Those power-hoarding Jedis don’t want peace; they want total control, and they had you under their thumb,” Palpatine coaxes. Anakin’s heart drops to his stomach. Sheev Palpatine, a man who he’d looked up to for guidance, for friendship, for as long as he could remember, was a Sith Lord? He forces a nod, trying desperately to mask his discomfort. 

“Will you help me save her?” Anakin asks. The fate of the universe is far from his mind. The only thought in his head is the sight of you in the mornings, before you wake up; the thought of your hand against his, the slight brush of your hand against his, the feel of your lips when he kissed you just now. 

And then he hears your voice in his head. You’d told him that you weren’t more important than the work you do. You bring clarity to him as the Dark SIde began to sink its claws into him, and he could think rationally now. Calmly. 

“You’ll have to swear your fealty to me,” Sheev Palpatine says. 

“I do,” Anakin says, lowering his head. He hopes the Force can forgive him. He knows the midichlorians will hold him to it, to some extent; by doing this, there’s no return. He can’t go back to being a Jedi. He won’t have crossed to the Dark Side but instead will walk in the middle. He will become the balance that he swore to bring to the universe. A sick, unsettled feeling makes itself known in the pit of his stomach. Not only is he going against everything he knew, everything he had grown up believing, but he’s also losing you. Anakin wonders, for a second, what he’ll be left with at the end of it all. 

“Then henceforth, you will be known as Darth Vader, apprentice to Darth Sidious,” Palpatine says. 

Fuck.

[mysteriouslyrainypatrol]

late night talking (newt x gn!reader)

(Reader is the only med-jack in the Glade and is working themselves to exhaustion)

CW: none i dont think! if i have missed any pls let me know!

Word Count: 1.4k

(hi! this is my first ever drabble/fanfic, please feel free to leave any feedback!)

The cool night air is a welcome relief on your warm face. It’s night in the Glade, and all the other Gladers are asleep, well, except for you. You’re the only proper med-jack in the Glade, the only one who actually cared enough to read the textbooks that came up in the box long before your arrival, and due to this you’re the only one who is able to treat more severe issues. 

This means that when it comes to the overnight shift, it’s usually you who takes it. Whilst the other Gladers get to rest and recover you’re stuck watching over the patients who have winded up in your care for one reason or another. Tonight is another one of those nights, you have three patients, each in for different issues. They’re soundly asleep while you’re sitting at your desk, begging yourself to stay awake. It usually wouldn’t be an issue taking the overnight shift, you would usually use the time to tidy up the med-hut, but it’s the third night in a row that you’ve taken the shift. You felt bad for the other boys, and after all you are the newest to the Glade out of them, so shouldn’t you do what they tell you to? 

It’s nearing 3:30 in the morning, and you’re desperately trying to rub the sleep from your eyes when you hear the door to the med-hut open.

“Hello?” you call out, voice quiet so as to not disturb the three sleeping patients.

A familiar blonde-haired boy makes his way into the dim light of the med-hut. Newt, the Glades second-in-command, and one of your closest friends.

“Hey..” he says quietly, with a small smile on his face “What are you doing up?”

“I could ask you the same question” you respond with a cheeky grin.

Newt rolls his eyes and sits down next to you, smile never faltering.

“You know tonight is my turn to do the night watch” he says, watching you intently, seeming to realise the sheer exhaustion in your eyes.

“You never answered my question (y/n), what are you doing up?” he asks again gently, waiting for your response.

You sigh and run your hands on your face “it’s my turn to do the night shift tonight” you say, knowing fully well that by now it had to be one of the other boys’ turns. You simply don’t want to worry Newt, afterall he has a really important job in the Glade, and if he found out what the boys were making you do he would be livid.

Newt sighs and carefully moves closer to you, eyes never leaving your face “(y/n), I know that you took a night shift last night too, Alby told me. What are you still doing up, darling? Don’t lie to me”

You freeze, forgetting that Alby had in fact come to visit you last night. You realise there’s no point in trying to lie to him, you’ve never been able to lie to Newt, that’s why you guys are such close friends, he can always tell when something’s bothering you.

“I took tonight's shift too..” you say quietly, busying yourself with organising your desk so you wouldn’t have to see his face “it’s okay though-” 

Before you can say anything else Newt gently grabs your hand. The action makes you confused, and you turn to face him. His face is hard, clearly not liking what you’ve said.

“So you’ve worked the last 2 nights?” he asks quietly, before adding “How long has it been since you slept?” 

You pause “three days i think” you say almost sheepishly “it sounds worse than it is though Newt-”

Again you’re cut off by the boy in front of you. He looks incredibly mad now, not at you however.

“(y/n), darling, you cannot do this to yourself, okay? You need to rest, you’ll end up sick if you keep working yourself like this” he says gently, using a hand to gently caress your cheek

“Please, get some sleep for me”

You shake your head gently “I can’t Newt, the patients need someone to watch them..”

“So I’ll wake one of the other boys” Newt says with a shrug “they’ve been making you do their jobs, and that’s not on, okay? You deserve to rest, especially after a night shift. I’m going to tell Alby, and I promise you darling this will never happen again, alright?” he says, leaving no room for argument.

You nod your head, the tiredness now hitting you in waves.

“C’mon” Newt says, gently pulling you to your feet “your hammock or mine?”

It was a thing between the two of you to share hammocks some nights. Usually it was when one of you was having a tough day, or simply when it got too cold at night. Tonight seemed to be no exception.

“Yours please” you mutter, standing up. Newt smiles and begins to lead you out of the med-hut to where the hammocks are set up. The moon is full tonight, the light from it illuminating the tops of the trees in the Glade. It looked so peaceful like this, if you could ignore the sounds of the Grievers lurking in the maze. As you walk Newt turns around to look at you, making sure you're okay. His eyes are filled with concern. Soon enough, you both reach his hammock. You sit down and take off your shoes and then climb into the hammock, Newt following straight after. You settle into the hammock, your head resting on Newt's chest. He gently runs a hand up and down your back comfortingly.

"Is this okay?" he whispers, not wanting to ruin the moment.

You snuggle into him more "This is perfect. Thank you Newt" you say, lifting your head to place a soft kiss to his cheek. Newt freezes, not anticipating that. Before you can rest your head back on his chest he gently cups your face, looking down at you with soft eyes

“What was that for? Not that I’m complaining, darling” he says quietly, voice so soft and quiet.

You blush softly at his touch, leaning into his hand slightly.

“I just- you didn’t have to do this ... .just wanted to say thank you” you say softly, trying to avoid his gaze. You didn’t want him to see the blush on your face, knowing he’d tease you or worse, would figure out your feelings for him. By the way he’s looking at you it’s too late, he already knows just how much you like him.

“Hey” Newt says, gently turning your head so you guys are face-to-face “I would do anything for you…okay?” he says softly, the words almost flying away in the soft wind. If you weren’t looking at him you wouldn’t know he’d even uttered them. 

Your breath catches in your throat slightly. Is he saying what you think he’s saying?

“..you like me?” you ask after a beat.

Newt chuckles, the sound deep and comforting beneath your body

“(y/n), I like you. I adore you...you didn't know?” He chuckles again, seemingly amused at your obliviousness. “Is that okay?” he asks after a brief pause.

You feel like someone’s dumped a bucket of cold water on you. He likes you? Unbeknownst to him, you’ve been in love with Newt ever since you came to the Glade. He was the first person who showed you kindness, gently talking to you while showing you around the Glade. Before he can do or say anything else you press your lips to his. He’s taken aback for a second, before moving a hand to the side of your jaw and deepening the kiss. You can feel him smiling into the kiss, and you feel your lips involuntarily turn up. Eventually you have to break the kiss for air, but you don’t go far from each other, resting your forehead against his. 

“I really, really like you Newt..” you whisper. The smile Newt gives you is blinding, filled with love and sweetness and hope.

“That’s more than okay darling” he whispers back, a wide smile on his face.

You smile back, tiredness pulling at your eyes. Newt seems to notice this, and beckons you to lie down again.

“Go to sleep” he says quietly, smiling softly at you and wrapping an arm around you, hooking his chin over your head. You can hear his heartbeat, slow and unhurried. Safe. He places a soft kiss on the top of your head. The last thing you register before slumber pulls you in is Newt’s voice. 

“Sleep well (y/n)...words cannot describe how much I love you my darling”

You fall asleep with a happy heart and a smile on your face, looking forward to waking up next to the man you love.

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

if you have time i would love to see what you do with prompt number #5 “i can’t believe i married you” with geraskier please!! i feel like geralt would say this when jaskier is being silly and ridiculous but also jaskier would use it when geralt gives him only one good morning kiss instead of two lol. but only if you have time!!!! 💖✨💖✨

Jaskier is still half-asleep as he shuffles to the fridge, his eyes bleary and unfocused after a late night of composing. Hoping for a few slices of last night’s leftover pizza, he opens the fridge, only to let out a little shriek of surprise when he finds a pair of bulbous eyes staring back at him.

“Geralt!” he yelps. “What the fresh fuck is in our fridge?”

His witcher appears in the doorway, already dressed and ready for the day. “A drowner head.”

“Right, good,” Jaskier says. “Let me rephrase. Why the fuck is it in our fridge?”

“It didn’t fit in the freezer.”

“Geralt!”

Geralt’s lips twitch. “Its brains are useful for potions. I’m going to harvest them later.”

“Not in our kitchen, you’re not.”

“Would you prefer the bedroom?”

“Geralt, I swear to Melitele, if you get drowner brains on the duvet—” Seeing the grin on Geralt’s face, Jaskier breaks off, scowling. “I cannot believe I married you.”

“Hm. Jask, we’re not married.”

Ah, right. They’ve been together so long, Jaskier forgets that sometimes. Their friends and family are always complaining that they act like an old married couple anyway. “And if you keep putting drowner heads in the fridge, we won’t be!”

Geralt comes to press a kiss to Jaskier’s forehead. “Go take a shower and I’ll make coffee and deal with the drowner.”

“You’ll make the coffee before you touch drowner brains, right? Avoid cross-contamination?”

“Drowner brains are good for you. Protein.”

Jaskier huffs and turns on his heel to leave the kitchen. “I want a divorce.”

“Again, not married.”

Jaskier starts up the stairs, calling over his shoulder, “Then we should get married just so I can divorce you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay!” Jaskier makes it to the top of the stairs, then pauses, registering what they just said, and turns around. “Geralt?”

From downstairs, there’s the rumble of Geralt’s answering hum. “Hm?”

“Did we just get engaged?”

“I think that’s traditionally what comes before marriage and divorce.”

Jaskier hurries back down the stairs so fast that he nearly trips over his own two feet. He finds Geralt standing right where he left him in front of the fridge. “Do you really want to get married?”

Geralt looks at him like he’s started singing in gnomish. “Sure.”

“Sure?” Jaskier lets out an exasperated laugh. “Geralt, my love, this is one of those things where I’m going to need an unequivocal yes or no from you.”

Geralt leans against the front of the fridge, frowning slightly. “I never thought you wanted to get married.”

“What?” Jaskier is bewildered. “When did I say that?”

“Back when you were dating Vespula.”

“Geralt, I was twenty-two when I dated Vespula! That was nearly a decade ago! Of course I didn’t want to get married.” Jaskier throws his arms around Geralt’s neck. “I never thought you wanted to get married. All that witchers walk alone bullshit.”

Geralt’s lips twitch. “I think that ship has sailed by now, Jask. I think it sailed about five minutes after we met.”

“Well yes, probably,” Jaskier says. “So, Geralt, will you marry me?”

“Seems like a lot of trouble to go through just so you can divorce me over drowner brains.”

“Darling, you should know by now that it’s going to take more than drowner brains to get rid of me. I told you when we first moved in together and I’ll tell you now, you’re stuck with me.”

“Romantic.”

“You know you love it.”

Geralt’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, pressing a kiss to the tip of Jaskier’s nose. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

The few times Jaskier has pictured proposing to Geralt, he’s imagined grand gestures: singing a love song in front of a crowded stadium of fans, holding a sign as he jumped out a plane, a moonlight boat ride and a four-string quartet. But standing with Geralt in the kitchen, still in his boxers with a drowner’s head in their fridge, somehow feels more right than any of those fantasies.

They just hold each other for a moment before Jaskier pulls away. “Want to go get breakfast to celebrate?”

Geralt’s eyes are soft with fondness as he watches him. “Did you propose just for an excuse to go get pancakes and mimosas?”

“Like I need an excuse to get pancakes and mimosas.” Jaskier is smiling stupidly. “Let me go get showered. I can be ready in twenty minutes.”

“See you in an hour.” 

“Har.” Jaskier turns and hurries up the steps. In the bathroom, he draws back the shower curtain, slapping a hand over his mouth to stifle his shriek at what he finds inside. “Geralt!”

“What?” Geralt calls from downstairs.

“What the fuck is in our shower?”

“Oh,” Geralt says. “That’s the rest of the drowner.”

“Excellent. Just so you know, I’ve changed my mind about that divorce!”

***

Tag list: @kueble @mollymawkwrites @feral-jaskier @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @dawnofbards @thisislisa @tsukiwolf42 @mosaicscale @rockysstupidity @fontegagrilledcheese @kuripon @help-i-need-a-cool-username @julek @flowercrown-bard @eveljerome