#a man saw a ball of gold in the sky

[exhalereleased]

A man saw a ball of gold in the sky; He climbed for it, And eventually he achieved it -- It was clay. Now this is the strange part: When the man went to the earth And looked again, Lo, there was the ball of gold. Now this is the strange part: It was a ball of gold. Aye, by the heavens, it was a ball of gold.

"A man saw a ball of gold in the sky;" by Stephen Crane

[whispersoftheton]

Hi, so I have request for Anthony (I know, how unexpected :D )

I was basically thinking about something similar to Penelope and Colin.. Maybe he and reader were friends for a long time, then she hear him speak badly about her and leave London without a word, only to return later (maybe next season?) Anthony doesn't understand what is going on, maybe he has been writing her but she didn't respond. She tells him, that she heard him and doesn't want to talk with him ever again (I just need that angst, ok?! :D ) And of course Anthony is man who would give up easily, so he starts sending her flowers, stealing her from other suitors.. You can basically write anything you want at this point with any ending. Thank you for reading my request and if you decide to write it, I am going to be looking forward to it :D Have a nice day!

Hello nonny! I'm sorry this took me so long, I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: friends to lovers

Word Count: 903

The light glimmered through the glass windows and reflected off the gold-rimmed tea cup sitting upon the pristinely decorated wooden table. Anthony sat in his reading chair in the corner of the otherwise quiet room as he turned the page in the ragged book in his hand when he felt something fall from one of the pages at the far end of it. A flattened, parched rose petal landed on his lap, etchings sketched onto it worn over time—your initials. And there it was. Yet another piece of you slipping between his fingers. The brief memory of your tendency to leave small reminders in scattered books across his library when you were young for him to find as he advanced in his readings—something he carried so fondly in his heart, now a painful reminder of your absence. Suddenly hit with a pang of guilt as he recalled the events that led to your untimely leave. Flashes of the season's final ball, a glimpse of your dress, as you hurried past him while he attempted to catch up to you, not knowing that it would be the last time he saw you for some time. "Gentlemen, there are much better options out there I am sure of it. I would never court her." He flinched at his own words, cursing himself for being so cruel toward someone who had shown him nothing but kindness in the time you'd known each other. He'd had months to ponder on that night, dissecting it in his mind day in and day out. A stack of unsent letters in the corner of his desk haunted him. He'd managed to send a couple, but when no response came, he found it pointless to continue. Still, that did not stop him from writing; never-ending apologies and still-to-be-kept promises lined every letter, hoping you'd find in your heart to forgive him one day.

It wasn't long before a fresh season dawned, with eager eyes from the ton on who would be picked the new diamond. Young ladies everywhere prepared themselves to find their suitor while mamas set targets for the latest eligible bachelors. Violet's notice of this afternoon's garden party was received with a disgruntled huff from Anthony as she brushed him off and continued about her day. The entire Bridgerton family's attendance would be even more significant now with this season's most eligible bachelor looking for his Viscountess. However, Anthony was more prepared for empty conversations and blank stares from barely appealing faces that meant nothing to him than he was to pick a wife from the ton. Nonetheless, he would sign his name on a few dance cards and put on a show for his mama until he could slip out unnoticed. Or at least that was his intention.

You stepped off the carriage onto the gravel floor, the natural light from the night sky glimmering on your dress cascading around you. The queen's ball was one of the highlights of the social season and the perfect moment for you to make an entrance back into society. The last couple of months spent traveling with family was exactly what you needed to move past last season's 'incident.' Your nerves struck at the thought of seeing Anthony tonight. Typically, seeing him would be the only way to get through such events, but after what happened, you weren't sure you wanted to see him at all.

The days passed, and a handful of suitors visited your home. Each greeted with your elated mama as you entertained what felt like an eternity of dulling conversation. No matter how much you tried to engage with them, your thoughts were consumed by none other than Anthony Bridgerton, mainly because your time with these gentlemen was often interrupted by him barging through the door unannounced with an exquisite gathering of flowers in his hand and inserting himself in conversation until the other gentleman was forced to leave. It wasn't until the last suitor of the day was rudely interrupted by one of Anthony's antics that you decided you'd had enough. You politely apologized to him before shutting the door and turning toward Anthony, who sat smugly on the sofa.

"Must you interrupt every time there is a suitor in my home?"

"Oh, was I interrupting something? I had not noticed." His arrogant tone only irritated you further.

"Then why? You would not court me; you made that very clear the prior season. Why will you not allow me to pursue any of these fine gentlemen? Why is it that you insist on ruining my life?"

"Because I care for you!" The outburst caused your breath to hitch. "I have cared for you for as long as I can remember."

"Anthony..." You weren't sure what to say. The words you've been waiting an entire lifetime to hear from the man you'd been in love with for as long as you could remember had your chest feeling like it could explode any second.

"I know I have made a fool of myself and do not deserve your forgiveness, much less another chance. But I will spend every day proving myself to be the man you deserve. If you'll let me." You weren't sure when he'd gotten so close until you felt his thumb skim your cheek, wiping away a slipped-away tear. The delicate touch sent shivers down your spine as you leaned into it. "I love you."

Mini Tag List: @bugnug @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @thethreeeyed-raven @ssprayberrythings @fatbottomedvirgo @fictional-hooman @sky0401 (let me know if you would like to added by leaving a comment here or dm me if you’d like to be added/removed)

ao3

I DO NOT HAVE WATTPAD. I do not consent to having my work reposted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. if anyone sees my work anywhere that is not ao3/tumblr or under any other username that is not whispersoftheton, it has been reposted without my permission

[foreverdolly]

𝐈 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄 |80's mechanic!austin x best friend!reader

summary: it's starting to look like he might never make it out of the friend zone. austin has been in love with you for as long as he can remember, and he's terrified that you'll never see him as anything more than a best friend and protector. with the fear of you one day outgrowing him fresh on his mind, he's now hell bent on getting you to view him in a different light. madly in love and terrified to lose you, austin butler is playing for keeps.

pairings: 80s mechanic! austin x childhood best friend!reader

word count: 4.8k

notes/warnings: SMUT! in part two, virgin!austin. . . need i say more?, i love pining and this fic is testament to that, shaky/hurried hands, who doesn't love a good best friends to lovers fic, he has a deep southern accent, austin is the small town's metalhead and he's swelteringly hot without even trying. (this is going to have to be two parts because it turned out too long after editing. the smut alone is like. . . five pages on google docs.)

The incessant metallic clinging and loud mechanic whirs echoed against the cement flooring of the auto body garage. The sun was peeking just over the trees right outside the open garage doors, the spring sky slowly burning gold and pink. Most of the men were rushing to finish up with the vehicles that they were working on, eager to get home to their families after a long day of work. There was one mechanic though -who might be young, but made up for it with skill- was still elbow deep under the car’s hood, eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration. He’d only been looking at the car for five minutes and knew exactly what was wrong with it. The elderly woman had gotten her car towed all the way to Travis’ shop after the damn thing stalled out in the middle of the Winn-Dixie parking lot. The young mechanic could see her through the lobby’s windows watching him, her tiny wrinkly hands balled up into nervous fists.

“Aye- Austin?” Travis jogged right up to Austin, placing his hand down on one of the side mirrors as he waited for the diagnosis. 

“It’s not the engine. The transmission,” He pointed towards the old hunk of junk, leaning his head back under the hood to show his boss. “It’s completely shot. She said it will jerk when she accelerates and the wheel will sometimes shake when she’s goin’ fast enough. What’s happening is that it’s slippin’. The damn thing won’t stay in gear. This car is ten years out of date- I mean. . . It's a ‘74. So even if we order the parts-” 

“It’s gonna cost more to fix than it would be for her to just buy a whole new one.” The boss finished for him, sighing when he saw Austin nod his head in agreement. 

The long haired blonde blinked his eyes against the burning sunset, shooing a gnat away from his face as he leaned his hip against the car. He crossed one booted foot over the other as he waited patiently for the man to make a decision. While Travis enjoyed making money, Austin knew that the bastard was above stealing it from little old ladies. With a small huff of defeat the middle aged man began walking back in the direction of the lobby, most likely to break the bad news. He stopped just before he opened the door, pointing a quick finger-gun in Austin’s direction. 

“Are you comin’ over to Mark’s cookout tonight? You can bring your girl.” He called out over the loud noise. 

Austin shook his head before flashing the man a little face of distaste. 

“I’ve gotta go to my dad’s house to grab some of my old shit. Besides- I don’t have a girl to bring.” 

Travis shot him “a face” right back, but one of disbelief. “Yeah, right. A girl doesn’t just bring her friend a hand packed lunch every other day unless she was hopin’ for somethin’ to happen between them..” And before Austin could even defend himself the man was gone, sauntering solemnly over to the corner where the elderly woman was sitting. 

You weren’t the one that was hoping for a chance at romance, but Austin was. He’d rather die than admit it, but his co-workers' words lit a small fire in his chest; a hopeful pyre that didn’t dim. 

The wooden stairs were old and weather worn, the nails rusted with age. Austin always felt a sense of dread when he heard the familiar creaking under his feet, and the fact that he could hear the television droning on from inside of the trailer didn’t make it any better. It meant that he was home, and the blonde knew what that meant. A fight was sure to ensue, and after the shitty day that he had at work, that was the last thing that he wanted to endure. He found that the door was unlocked, per usual. The inhabitant of the rickety death trap didn’t have anything worth stealing. 

“Why are you here?” The middle aged man looked terrible for his age, though Austin blamed that on the endless supply of alcohol and drugs that ran through the man’s system. 

Austin cleared his throat, closing the door behind him with a grimace. He didn’t want to be here, but there were still a few boxes back in his old room that he needed to grab. After that he’d be gone for good, or at least that’s what he told himself anyway. His no-good father was used to relying on other people to save the day, one of those people being his own son. 

He blamed his strong sense of duties on the fact that he was raised in the deep south. “Being a man” was hammered into his skull from the moment of his very conception. Taking care of your family, especially when they are unable to do it for themselves, was considered a must. Austin had always hated his father. In fact, he couldn’t remember a single time in his life when he had felt gratitude or love in any magnitude towards his father. Still, he was a man and needed to provide for his family. . . right? He didn’t want anyone to think less of him for abandoning his father. More than anything, he didn’t want the wrong kind of gossip ending up in the wrong people’s ears.

What was important to him now was getting the hell away from his abusive father. He was old enough to start thinking about what he wanted for himself in the future. He’d always craved companionship with a certain person. . . children were on his radar too. The last thing he wanted was for his druggie father to be in his own kid’s lives. 

The lanky man didn’t fit in the small home anymore, and he hadn’t for years. Both physically and emotionally, he had outgrown his prison many moons ago. He took a few seconds to look around the living room. Now that he wasn’t there to clean up after the grotesque man, the house smelled absolutely putrid. Austin’s nose wrinkled in disgust, eyes dancing along the empty beer cans and overflowing sink. 

“Jus’ gettin’ the last of my stuff.” Austin grumbled, his bulky black boots sticking to the dirty linoleum floors as he tried his best to breeze past the older man’s old recliner. 

A hand reached out, gripping at his wrist to stop him. Austin looked down, the muscles in his sharp jaw clicking as he held back the urge to rip himself out of the man’s reach. He knew that he was too big for the man to intimidate now, but his body still remembered the pain his father had put him through as a kid. 

“Ya talkin’ bout that toolbox?” The man’s voice was gravely, all thanks to the menthols he religiously smoked. Austin could smell the Miller Light and smoke coming off of him now. It was nauseating. 

The blonde ripped his eyes off of the man’s face, peeking off down the hall to see his old bedroom door wide open. He had locked it from the inside and crawled out the window the last time that he was here, taking the spare key with him. It was still tucked away safely in his wallet. His breathing stuttered when he realized that the doorknob had been taken off completely. 

“I need it for work. What did you do with it?” Austin tried to school the deep southern accent out of his voice. He got into the habit of doing that around his father from a young age, desperately wanting to seem as different from the old man as possible. 

“If that’s what yer here for, don’ bother. I sold it.” The young adult’s heart sank to his ass, and this time he didn’t hesitate in ripping his wrist out of the man’s hand. 

“To who? Where is it?” Austin questioned heatedly, staring daggers into the old man’s face. 

The sandy haired man was staring back at the television now, watching old reruns of some shitty old Western movie that must have come out in the sixties. He didn’t answer Austin, too drunk to care and too high to listen. 

“Dad!” Austin’s deep voice boomed, echoing around the filthy trailer. “Where the fuck did you take it? The pawn shop off’a Assembly Street?” That was where his father often sold stolen shit for a few extra bucks. 

That got the other man’s attention. He didn’t take kindly to being yelled and cursed at, especially not by his son. He could always deal it out, but refused to take it. Ray Butler had stopped beating on his son during his Junior year in highschool though, realizing that the boy was now bigger than him. Out of a cowardly fear for his own safety, he stuck to the emotional abuse instead, which only got worse once he didn’t have a true outlet for his frustrations. Austin bristled as he watched the old man glare up at him, taking a long swig from his beer before answering. 

“I took it to Keith’s. If ya needed it so bad, why the hell didn’t you take it with ya in the first place? It’s in my house, so I can do whatever the fuck I want with it.” It was surprising how coherent the man was, especially since he must have been drinking all day long. 

Austin’s father hadn’t had a job in the last seven years, but still managed to scrape by somehow. He was a petty thief whose criminal record stretched all the way back into his boyhood. He had raised the blonde to be the exact same way, but the only thing Austin had truly adopted from his “teachings” was a shared hatred for cops and a scrappy sort of resourcefulness. The other kids that he was forced to interact with at school were the ones that taught him how to fight. They enjoyed taking turns trying to beat the shit out of the town’s poor kid, but once he finally hit his growth spurt in the summer after sixth grade the roles were largely reversed. Nobody messed with him by the time that he had entered high school. He was feared by his peers and just as hated. 

The negative image that he had created served him well though. Not only had he made a name for himself, he had also gained the ability to protect his best friend, which was the only thing he really cared about. Getting the dog shit knocked out of him was one thing, but seeing boys and girls teasing her was a different story. He remembered storming into the girl’s bathroom during his junior year very vividly, yanking up one of popular blonde’s by the back of her shirt. 

“I’m a Butler, so don’t think that I’m above hittin’ a girl.” 

He’d constantly ask you if the bullying persisted even after that, but you always went out of your way to tell him that they had stopped their teasing. Austin was made fun of because he lived in a trailer that should have been condemned long since they originally moved in and barely had enough money to get school supplies every year, but you were picked on because you were perfect. It didn’t make any sense to him, but girls are strange creatures. You made good grades, was the nicest person he had ever met without even trying, and your natural good looks made matters even worse for you. Getting the mean girls to steer clear of you wasn’t the hard part, but keeping the male pervert’s away was an entirely different story. 

It didn’t help that after a long day of putting up with the constant glares, rumors, and telling boys to back off, he’d be forced to come home to incessant tongue lashings. He barely had time to study after taking care of the forty year old drunkard, hence his rotten grades in school. You could only do his homework for him so many times, but hey- you tried. He graduated because of you, at the very least. 

He had landed a job as a mechanic straight out of high school, having been skilled for his age. Who knew that driving a shitty lemon of a car that he constantly had to fix up would lead to a career? He had gotten lucky, which was a rarity in his life. 

Getting his own place was one hell of an achievement, but his past always found a way to come back and haunt him. 

Austin stormed through the connected kitchen and down the hall, sucking in a deep breath before he entered the room. All of the boxes that he had stacked in the corner had been ransacked and picked clean. It was Austin’s fault for thinking that a simple locked door would keep his father out. The blonde could scream over his stolen Iron Maiden and Dio tapes later, for now he needed to focus on the important thing: his tools. 

“You sold them to your crackhead dealer? For what? A bag, right? That was over a hundred dollars worth’a tools!” He screamed from the backroom, kicking an old wooden chair that had been junking up his old room for ages. The thing went flying, hitting the opposite wall with a resounding cracking noise. 

Austin was covered in car oil, smelled like gasoline and sweat after a long day of work, and all he had wanted was to slip in the trailer undetected and grab his things. He had hoped that his father would have been passed out in his room by now so that he could have been in and out without being forced to converse. Nothing ever seemed to go his way. The blonde reached for the metal baseball bat that he still had stuffed under his childhood bed, knocking it against his boot a few times before storming out of the room, pushing past his father and heading straight for the front door. 

“Austin, wait,” The male knew what was coming. The only time his father ever referred to him by his name was when he wanted something. “Can you give me twenty dollars? I need’a pay the power.” 

The baseball bat felt heavy in his hand. He balanced the weight for a second, his jaw clicking as he imagined just how good it would feel to bring it down on top of the other man’s head. If Ray ended up dead, he was sure that he could blame it on a handful of people who he had stolen from or cheated. Austin didn’t need that on his conscience though. So instead of barking back a reply or even pulling out his wallet, he yanked his hand away with a grunt, storming out the door. 

“Jus’ use the money that you got from sellin’ all’a my shit.” He called out before slamming the door behind him, the small and dingy diamond shaped window vibrating with the force of his anger. 

“Is your mama home? If not then I’m gonna use your shower.” Austin gently pushed his way into the house, kicking off his dirty work boots before bounding up the familiar carpeted stairs. 

You blinked in the entryway, slowly closing the front door before turning around to watch him go, the chain from his wallet jingling with his movement. With a small sigh you locked it behind you, following up after him. 

“Well hello to you too.” You teased, watching him open up the linen closet so that he could grab a towel. He was caked with grease, his sun kissed cheeks speckled with black and gray. His black work shirt fit snugly on his form, having shrunk in the wash. At his hip, swinging around with every step that he took, was his black handkerchief. It was also wrecked with engine grease, having been used to clean his hands one too many times that day. He looked devilishly handsome, but he always did. Nothing new. 

“Sorry. Really bad day. Just got back from Keith’s place- he had some of the shit that I left at my dad’s.” He left the bathroom door open as he slipped off his socks, then hurriedly took his shirt off and threw that into the dirty clothes hamper. His small apartment didn’t have a washer and dryer hookup, so he had been doing his laundry at your place for the last two months. 

You didn’t mind, and your mother and father hadn’t noticed either. You sucked at your teeth, turning around to give him privacy. You heard the shower turn on, then the familiar clanking of his chain wallet hitting the side of the sink. Once you heard the shower curtain open and close you turned around, seeing the room empty, his dirty clothes piled neatly in the hamper. You closed the bathroom door behind you as you stepped inside, jumping up on the counter so that you could swing your legs back and forth as you spoke. He seemed frustrated, and you could tell that he needed to talk about it. 

Growing up in a tragically tiny town meant that everybody was always in each other’s business. From preschool to your senior year in high school, every moment was spent with the same exact children. You could count the newer families to move into the small community over the last five years on one hand. Life was slow moving in the old south, and things were horrifically monotonous. You and the blonde had been stuck together like glue ever since primary school, and you didn’t see it changing in the future. 

To say that you knew Austin like the back of your hand was an understatement. Every flaw, quirk and triumph had either been discovered by you, with you at his side, or involved you in some way. In a town filled with mostly elderly folks, kids often found a group of likeminded people and stuck with them for the entirety of their lives. It was horribly predictable of the two of you, yet here you two were, connected at the hip. The bond between you and Austin went above just being best friends. It was something tied to your soul. It wasn’t just hard to imagine a life without him in it, rather it was impossible. 

He didn’t have to tell you that he was angry for you to know that he was beyond aggravated. The restlessness was plain to see. Whether he would be upfront and tell you about the reason or not, you could tell that he needed someone to just sit and listen. Austin wasn’t the kind of person to talk in depth about the things that really upset him. He was more of the “suffer in silence until I inevitably blow up” type. You, on the other hand, weren’t afraid to whine and cry to him about even the slightest of inconveniences. The two of you were polar opposites, and yet it just worked. 

“Keith let you in the house?” You asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow as you watched the steam beginning to curl up and over the curtain. 

Austin let out a humorless laugh, and you could imagine him shaking his head back and forth. You smiled despite the situation, bringing your hand up to your mouth so that you could bite down on your thumb nail. You instantly regretted it, pulling away to see that you had already chipped your freshly painted fingers. 

“A’course he didn’t. I broke into the fucker’s place. Got my tool box back, but the damn thing had been ransacked already. The bones picked clean. I’m out over fifty dollars in tools- checked it once I got back into the car.” 

“Jesus- did he see you? That guy is absolutely insane.” Thankfully, you’d only met the man in passing a handful of times. He was the crazy townee that everybody knew and feared. Keith was the kind of person that you point out to your developing teens to scare them away from drugs and alcohol. “If you don’t want to end up like Ole’ Keith, you better not touch that stuff.” He had a bunch of handmade signs outside of his house with bible scriptures on them, meanwhile the man was dealing meth and coke to make a living. As was the deep south, filled to the brim with religious and moral hypocrisies. 

Either you were a devout Christian or just another local crackhead. Thankfully, you and Austin didn’t fall into either of those categories. You seemed to have made one of your own over the years. 

“He wasn’t home. His truck was gone. The dude left his bedroom window unlocked, so I just ripped the screen off.” 

You used to worry for Austin on a daily basis. The burns and bruises he’d come to school with broke your heart, but no matter how many times you begged your parents to let the blonde come and live with you, they always let you down. You were happy that he finally had somewhere safe to lay his head at night, though he still hadn’t broken the habit of spending most of his down time with you (and you prayed he wouldn’t ever grow out of that habit). As soon as he got off work he was making his way up to your bedroom, often dead tired down to his bones or pissed off. Your parents were gone most of the time anyway though. Your father was a hotshot business man who was away for work most of the time, and your mother insisted on following along with him after the “incident” that happened when you were twelve.

Men who spend most days without their wives and children breathing down their neck usually take advantage of the opportunity. Your father was no different. He was no saint. Then again, neither was your mother. She took most of her frustration out on you after that, and though you knew that her outbursts weren’t a direct cause of anything that you had personally done, that didn’t make it any better. 

Austin was just as much your therapist as you were his. Maybe that was the cause for your codependency. . . either way, neither of you regretted it. It only strengthened the bond, really. 

After Austin was showered and dressed in an outfit that he had left at your house some weeks ago, the two of you found yourselves sprawled out on your bed. You were busy finishing up some homework for one of your classes, and he was reading one of your magazines. He had his head hanging off the side of the mattress, ankles crossed up on one of your pillows. His wet hair was dripping onto your floor. The constant droplets hitting your outdated shag carpet lulled the two of you into a comfortable silence. The two of you didn’t need to talk 

“Where’s a newer one? This one’s a year old.” He suddenly dropped what he was reading onto the floor next to his head, sitting up so that he could face you again. 

You scrunched up your nose, dropping your psychology textbook beside you. 

“That is the newer one.” You told him, to which he scooped it up and off of the floor, turning it over and pointing at the date. 

He was right. It was old. 

It was the June twenty-first issue, the date clear to see on the front: nineteen eighty-four. Bob Dylan was posed on the front in all of his tambourine-man glory. 

“Shit. Sorry, Aus. I thought I handed you the Beatles Anniversary edition.” You started to stand up, but he waved you off. 

“I should probably get going anyway. I have to try to cook myself something. If I don’t eat now then I’ll jus’ go to bed hungry.” 

You had hoped that the two of you could order pizza tonight, but you kept your mouth shut. Lately you found yourself clinging to him a little bit harder than usual. Maybe it was the stress of your sophomore year in college, but you couldn’t be certain. You tried to school the disappointment off of your face as you nodded, standing up to walk him back to the front door. 

“Are we still driving down to see Dave’s show? His band sucks, but he’ll be disappointed if we miss it.” He asked you at the front door, shoving his sock clad feet into his work boots and tying them up haphazardly. 

You slapped your forehead with the palm of your hand, eyes wide. You’d completely forgotten about your friend’s show tomorrow. You’d planned to stay after class and study in the library, but you didn’t mind cramming for next week's test. Austin laughed, the sound causing you to smile to yourself. His laugh was deep, rich and completely contagious. He reached out, his large hand wrapping around your wrist to pull your hand away from your face. 

“You forgot, didn’t you?” He leaned down so that he was at your height, his smile practically blinding. 

You sucked in a breath, but nodded your head anyway. It was hard not to notice his beauty in moments like this. He’d always been handsome, but lately you’d been looking a little too closely at that. A sick twinge of guilt soured your stomach, a feeling of what could only be categorized as “betrayal” causing your face to flush. He was your best friend, and if he knew that you were looking at him like that he would probably be disgusted with you. Hell, you were horrified by your own thoughts recently. You tried to blame the odd feelings on your long-standing lack of romance, but you were starting to believe that was just an excuse.

“I completely forgot.” And you felt bad about it. You’d been so busy with your school work, the recent fight that you had with your mother and. . . well. . . Austin. You cleared your throat softly, kicking at an imaginary pebble on the tiled floor to try and distract yourself. 

Austin seemed to notice the change in attitude and put his hand on the top of your head, ruffling your hair in the way that he knew you despised. He chuckled when you slapped his hand away, instead moving his hand to the base of your neck so that he could pull your much smaller form against his in a tight hug. He’d always been lean and tall, but his physically demanding job had caused his muscles to fill out. He felt warm and strong, smelling of your shampoo. 

“I’ll drive us tomorrow, alright? Maybe you can get some studying done in the car.” And with that he removed his arms from around you. 

You felt the loss of his warmth like a slap in the face. You let him go though, watching as he bounded down the steps towards his van, his keys jingling in his hand with the movement. He was in higher spirits after spending a few hours in your presence. He felt lighter, like some of the crushing weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. You leaned against the doorframe, peeking your head out just to watch him. 

“I love you! Drive home safe, alright?” You called out. 

Austin couldn’t fight off the blush that raised to his ears, but he turned around and quickly returned the sentiment. You had told him that you loved him every day, but his heart still pounded like it had the very first time. Only these days he wished that you really meant it. 

That you loved him the same way that he loved you. 

[moonymelly]

Uhm…hello, friends!!

Uh, yeah…I’m still sick. Which sucks. BUT!! This morning, I was like:

“Ok, dude, you GOTTA make something Biggerler related. ITS BEEN WEEKS AND YOUR BOY AND YOUR FANS NEED YOU!!”

So….I had a lil idea. Now I’m no writer, but I just HAD to make this. I wanted to make something that would just be super cool and also give a bit more personality to mah boi. coughcoughbeforetheloraxcrashedtheparty. SO!!

Without further ado…here’s a lil something I wrote….

- The Calm Before the Storm -

……

“….mnnmhmm….”

His tired eyes slowly fluttered open, his blurry vision immediately met with the roof of his canopy bed, the intricate gold details against the deep green background glittering from the light that came through the room.

What time is it?

Looking over at his clock with squinted eyes, it read somewhere around 8:30. As usual.

Well…there wasn’t a moment to waste. Today was the day of the ball, after all. Everything needed to be perfect.

Rubbing his eyes and running his fingers through his soft black hair, he parted the curtains of his bed, stepping up and away from it. He grabbed his cup of chamomile tea from the night before and sipped it as he made his way to his balcony.

Tsk. Cold tea.

He pulled back the tall green, velvety curtains for the every-morning-outside-viewing-time. His face was a twisted expression of disgust and irritation. Why he did this to himself, even he would never know.

But alas, he did it anyways. Gazed out from his balcony at the crude place that was “the valley.” The sky, though morning, was swirled with those familiar dark purple, smoggy clouds, the hills inhabiting almost the same color. And the grass was…well…there…

….not completely alive, though.

He stared. Just stared with a blank face at all of it. Not too far away was Thneedville, and a smidgen of a small smile crossed his otherwise straight face. If there was one thing he was proud of, it was Thneedville.

His town. What he did for everyone.

What everyone should be grateful for.

He stood there, cold tea in hand, lost in thought, the cold breeze of the outside atmosphere brushing his hair softly into his eyes, the bitter smell of smog tickling his nose, but it didn’t matter.

He just…stayed there.

……….

….BANG!!

The Onceler nearly leapt out of his feet from the loud noise that attacked his ears, causing him to yelp very unprofessionally.

He swirled around, his face a furious scowl as his cold tea was splashed across his jade green silk pajamas. Who dared enter his room at an hour like this, and how so loudly?!

Who dared see him without his suit, so casually, with his unbrushed hair and now wet pajamas?!

WHO DARED TO—?!

“…A-Agh!! I’m so sorry sir!! Here, I’ll leave right away—!!”

The Onceler’s scowl slowly softened with realization, his posture straightening with a small sigh. He held up his hand, shaking his head. “No, no, Viktor. You don’t have to leave.”

Of course it was Viktor. There stood the poor man, a tray of food in his shaky hands, his face so deeply apologetic that The Onceler couldn’t help but have a soft spot for him.

He knew, after all, how it felt to be in a position such as Viktor’s. Always trying oh so desperately to have the…the approval of someone.

Viktor adjusted his rectangular glasses with a curious look on his face, his other hand clutching onto the food tray for dear life.

“Uhm…you’re sure, sir? I-I can really just leave, if you need me to—“

“No, no, it’s fine. Just…you can leave the tray on my table, over there.”

The Onceler pointed tiredly over at his small table nearby his fireplace, surrounded by the red sofas where he liked to sit sometimes with his smoking jacket, cigar in hand.

Viktor did a double take when he saw that The Onceler had accidentally splashed himself on his pajamas and winced. His boss really liked those pajamas. He was sure that if Viktor had been anyone else, he wouldn’t have been let off the hook so easily.

He trotted over to The Onceler’s fireplace and saw an unfinished glass of red wine set on the table as well. Pointing to it, he called out to his boss, who was once again standing regally as he looked out to the valley.

“Sir, would you like me to take this away for you?”

The Onceler turned around again to see what Viktor was referring to, and he didn’t answer right away, just looking at the glass as he contemplated yes or no.

“…Mmmm. I suppose.”

With that, he turned away again.

Viktor gave his boss a soft, knowing look. After being under his wing for five years, he knew what to expect. Even though he was his secretary, he was really mostly his personal assistant, the man The Onceler knew he could trust.

And Viktor never took that for granted.

As Viktor took the glass from the table and set the food tray down, The Onceler started trotting away from the balcony, unexpectedly. Viktor rose a brow, standing up straight as he watched his boss walk to his closet.

Well…more like a grand closet, for crying out loud. It was like a whole other room!!

“Sir!” Viktor half-shouted, practically speed walking over to where his boss now stood. “Can I help you with anything else?”

The Onceler gave Viktor a brief look, then shook his head. “No, but thank you. I just figured since I already dirtied my pajamas I might as well get into my suit.”

Viktor winced again, feeling bad about the pajamas. The Onceler scanned through his array of suits, other business-casual clothes, and smoking jackets. It was easy for a lot of people to forget that he was only twenty-five years old, especially when he acted so much older and sophisticated than that.

…Viktor sometimes wondered if The Onceler…always acted this way. Even in private. Even before all of this.

His lingering thoughts were interrupted by The Onceler staring at him with a tired look, one of his suits in hand. The suit he’d been wearing more often lately, the dark green one with the little intricate details on the lapels.

Viktor started to get nervous again. Why was The Onceler looking at him like that?! Did he need anything?! If he needed something he should know that all he needed to do was just say the words and—!!

“Viktor. I need to change, please.”

Viktor’s running thoughts were interrupted like a popping bubble when he realized….he was still in the closet with his boss. Aaaand…he needed to not be in there.

“…My apologies, sir!!” With that, he rushed out of the closet, fidgeting with his thumbs. As his boss changed, he ran over how the day needed to be, and that was perfect. He knew how much time and thought The Onceler was putting into this ball, and he knew how much it meant to him that everyone who came would be entertained and satisfied.

With a click of the closets door, The Onceler stepped out, his suit already fastened on neatly and his hair already somehow perfectly brushed. How The Onceler’s hair was always so perfect…Viktor and many people longed to know.

The Onceler walking with Viktor by his side, he stooped down to pick up his top hat and glasses from a nearby stand. As he placed them on, his confident and ready demeanor could make even the most frivolous of accessories appear regal.

The two exited his bedroom and made their way into the long hallways of the top floor of the factory, the tall walls lavished with paintings and gold stripes on the dark green walls that looked the same as the ones on The Onceler’s most iconic suit. The two walked through the dim lit red lamps and to the golden, intricate elevator.

Viktor pushed the button for the ballroom floor, and he instantly started chattering, reading off his papers as The Onceler listened intently.

“We have a lot to do, Sir, as you already know. A lot of us already have the decorations up and ready, but the kitchen needs to prep the food, refreshments, and desserts. The main thing, of course, is that we need your approval to make sure everything is in check.”

As Viktor looked up at his tall boss to read his expression, he could see a raised brow and a small smile, which wasn’t what he was expecting.

“Viktor,” The Onceler started, “That doesn’t sound like too much. In fact, it sounds like you all have done a great job preparing for this.”

Viktor was surprised, and even touched. “Well…thank you, Sir. …But we still should have you look over everything!!”

The Onceler looked straight ahead again, shaking his head lightly and chuckling. “Alright, Viktor.”

- At The Ballroom Floor -

Employees were working away like busy bees, draping more decorations up on the overly-tall walls. (Some would complain too tall, but what did it matter?) The people working at this factory knew they were lucky they had such an important job, being able to work for THE Onceler himself.

So, when THE Onceler himself was walked in, everyone just worked themselves even harder and quicker.

The Onceler scanned the room with a straight face, his eyes barely visible beneath those shades he wore. Every now and then an employee would walk by and greet him, he’d give them a light smile. But then he’d just revert back to that look, that look he made when he didn’t want people to know what he was thinking.

He watched as Viktor went off to be with the other employees, chattering to them as he hurriedly checked off the dozens of boxes on his clipboard. But The Onceler’s thoughts were interrupted by a familiar, thickly southern voice.

“Oncie!!~”

His eyes widening and back straightening even more than before, he turned around to see his mother stepping out from the elevator behind him, a big grin on her glossed lips. She wore one of her dozens of outfits, this one a sparkly blue skirt that matched both her son’s shades and her own glasses. Her top was a white collared shirt with a navy bow, her bow in her hair matching perfectly.

She clacked her high heels over to her son, but even then still needed to tippy-toe to drag his face down to hers and pepper his cheek with kisses. “Good morning, Oncie~!!” She made those ‘mwah-mwah-mwah’ noises as she kissed him and The Onceler could feel his cheeks instantly rise up with heat as he was seen by dozens of his employees, all looking at him either with surprise or little smiles on their faces, giggling.

The Onceler tugged a bit away from her and she finally let go, grinning all the while. “I see you’ve already made yourself busy, bein’ down here, hm?” She asked, looking around at everyone setting up.

The Onceler wiped away her lipgloss from his cheek and nodded with a forced smile, still embarrassed and slightly irritated from being seen so unprofessionally. Yes, while he was a fun guy in public and on the news, it was because he allowed that, it was an endearing fun for all adoring people to fawn over.

Not just…getting kiss attacked by his mother…

Straightening his suit, he nodded. “That’s right, ma. Tonight is going to be the night. Why, the event of the summer, I would say!”

His mother smiled and gave his cheek a pinch. “That’s my boy.” The two were interrupted by a female worker politely holding up a tray of confections. It appeared to be chocolate truffles of some kind, swirled with a deep purple color.

“Would you two like to try, Mr. Onceler?”

The Onceler gave her a nod and he and his mother each popped one in their mouths. It was absolutely decadent, the taste of dark chocolate coating his tongue along with a flavor he hadn’t had in such a long time.

…Truffula Fruit.

His mind drifting to thoughts he didn’t want to think, he cleared his throat, and gave her the nod of approval. “It’s delicious, please place them on the table over the—“

He was cut off by his mother chuckling, giving the other woman a crude pat on the back. “Oh, dearie!! You think this is gonna cut it?! Where’s the glamour?? This is the event of the summer, y’know?”

The woman looked absolutely mortified that she would displease anyone of The Onceler’s family. Isabella leaned into her ear with a sly smile and whispered. “You gotta add gold to it, hun. Go on. Sprinkle some gold on it.” Isabella leaned back and made a ‘shoo-shoo!’ motion with her gloved hand, grinning coyly.

The woman nodded her head rapidly, shakily keeping the chocolates in her tray from clattering to the ground. “Y-Yes, Ms. Isabella!! Right away!!” With that, she scurried back to the kitchen, the other employees quietly looking at her with wide eyes or pity.

The Onceler watched her walk away with that same unreadable look on his face. Did he feel sorry for her? Did he not care? No one would be able to tell. Isabella smiled up on him, squeezing his cheek again.

“Ya can’t let people get away with things, hun!! Can’t let people make us look bad, no?”

The Onceler looked down at his mother and quietly shook his head. “No.”

His mother was right, after all. This ball was meant to be a display of how perfect The Onceler and his family was, to show certain people that they were wrong. That nothing that The Onceler was doing was wrong in any way.

He was helping everyone, after all!! Giving people jobs, housing them, making them Thneeds, heck, a reason to be so darn happy!! Right?

But as he looks out to the valley every morning, is he really making…everyone? Happy?

………..

It didn’t matter. Because he was happy. And if he was happy, then everyone should be.

………..

….He did like the chocolate, though. The way it had been.

[blackdollette]

saw ur requests were open and RAN to ur asks but omg i saw a post a couple days ago about someone else joining kappa’s little group and reader gets jealous abt it bc kappa is giving the new person a lot of attention and i NEED it 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

can be the most filthiest thing you’ve ever written btw 🫶

thank you for being my first request in so long!!!

"don't forget me." | kappa

did you know that there's a tunnel under ocean blvd. - lana del rey

✮⋆˙ [tags] @faesucksass @lustkillers @mayathepsychic1999 @josibunn @si1nful-symph0ny @livingdead-materialgirl @vanlisbon @oliviah-25 @livingdead-reilly @yungbloodsuxca @imoonkiss @lankysimp @xxbl00d-cl0txx @k1ll3rh0rr0r @wildathevrt

jealous!femdom!reader x sub!kappa

word count: 1.7k

contents: murder, home invasion, arson, a few death, kappa held at gunpoint, slight mommy kink, blowjob, cum eating

kappa pressed the muzzle of his gun against his helpless victim’s forehead, beads of sweat glistening against the black gunmetal. with a quick pull of the trigger, kappa shot the man and watched as he fell to the ground like a marionette who’d had its strings cut.

and behind kappa stood a dark figure, clad in effortlessly flattering rags that left little to the imagination. her hands were placed on his shoulders as she giggled at the sight of blood pooling on the ground. kappa’s arm wrapped around her bare waist, jealousy bubbling in your gut.

you stood in the corner of the room, holding the hunter’s knife that kappa had taught you how to use for finishing a job, but she was already on it. you leered at her as she slit open the victim’s neck, earning a laugh of approval from him. he gave her a pat on the back that travelled way too close to her ass for comfort as his eyes wandered to the drops of sweat cascading down her cleavage.

you felt an envious wave of heat rushing to your cheeks as he performed this overused gesture on the girl who had just smuggled her way into the cult.

you had been his partner in crime for longer than you could remember. like bonnie and clyde, he would spoil you with all the wealth and riches you’d ever dreamed of, all for the small price of sticking a bullet into the head of all those who got in his way. out of all his cult members, you’d always been his favourite. he’d keep you perched on his lap and had everyone treat you with the same respect that they would with him.

you looked around the victim’s house. it was a nice one, almost as nice as the other ones kappa had hijacked for you. but he was off, chatting away with his new vixen. your blood boiled at the sight. this was the third time this week that this newcomer had stolen your show. and now here she was, giggling at every stupid word he spoke and inching her way into his pants like a blood-thirsty parasite.

“you did great tonight, darlin’. next i’ll teach you how to use a handgun. you’d look real pretty holding a gun to someone’s head.” kappa cooed to her, sounding like a schoolboy in love. the cult walked through the gold-plated hallways of the house, searching for any valuables to snatch before burning the house to the ground. 

but your red-hot revenge was about to sweet.

you took a deep breath, following them out of the room but making a quick detour to the kitchen, sneaking a few items into your pocket, along with a can of gasoline before strolling out of the house, kappa completely oblivious to your absence.

you stood on the front porch, looking up at the luxurious house and listening to the giggles and conversations from inside the house. the pretty stars in the night sky gleamed, one small star separated from all the rest, surely feeling the same way you felt.

but at the end of the day, stars were burning balls of fire. ones that matched the rage and jealousy that you felt right then. and you needed to let out some steam, or rather thick, black smoke.

you pulled a lighter and a can of spray from your pocket, unscrewing the gasoline and dousing the whole entrance with the toxic fluid. then you flicked open the lighter and woke up the flame with a long spray of flammable solution, the house engulfing in flames in a matter of seconds.

you backed away from the house, watching the flame eat it’s way up the monstrous building. pleased giggles turned into shrieks of fear as kappa and the rest felt the floor underneath them turn molten hot. the roof caved in, sending burning pieces of wood and embers flying everywhere, looking like shooting stars in the night.

smoke floated into the sky, adding a warm atmosphere to the scene. you saw a window break open, then kappa and his eye-candy lept out, coughing up a storm as an explosion rocked the ground.

too stunned to notice you, kappa fell to the ground, choking as smoke filled his lungs. he felt something light pressing the back of his head, slowly turning his head before his eyes widened with shock.

you stood behind him, your face contorted with rage as you pressed his gun to the back of his head, your finger threatening to pull the trigger. it was ironic, really. a look of fear flickered across his face. he stammered out a few frantic words. “w-what the hell is this about, doll?”

“shut up!” you yelled. “don’t act fucking stupid. you know what this is about. you abandoned me for the first slut who’d show you her tits and think i’m just gonna be okay with that?!” your hand trembled, nearly making you pull the trigger.

you could practically hear kappa’s heart hammering in his chest, his hands up as he surrendered to you. he was panting, glazed in a layer of sweat. silence filled the space between you two, and the scene finally sunk in.

here was your cult leader, on his knees in front of you and completely at your mercy. he looked so helpless like this, his hair falling into his face as he stared up at you with his pleading, icy eyes. you’ve would’ve laughed if someone had told you this was where you’d end up.

kappa’s eyes studied your face, taking in all the angry details that he’d never seen before. your flushed cheeks and ruthless gaze make a new sensation run through his body. one that he wished he could say he hated.

with his legs apart in the way that they were, you saw when his cock began to tent in his pants, a tiny white bead leaking through the thin fabric. your mouth gaped open at the sight. of course he’d get hard at a moment like this. fucking whore. a little grin tugged at your lips. “get up.” you ordered, and he immediately did so. you had never been the one making the commands.

as he stood up, you pressed the gun to his boner, speaking in a dark, threatening tone. “i never want you talking to that bitch again. i don’t care if she stays in the cult, but she’s obviously taken your attention away from the only person it should be on.” 

he let out a little whimper as the contact came to his erection. he nodded frantically, a lustful blush covering his cheeks. you smiled a little, nodding as you dragged him away from the scene as the deafening sound of sirens filled the neighbourhood. 

you moved to a dark alleyway, and once you were there you pinned him to the wall and pulled him into a deep, hungry kiss, his hips grinding into the muzzle of the gun as he desperately searched for even the smallest amount of pleasure.

you pulled the gun away, making him whine quietly. “p-please… touch me…” you looked down and saw the mess he had made of himself, cum leaking through his pants. your expression turned into a slight scowl. “you really think you deserve my touch?” he pouted a little. “i-ill get you anything you want. ill do anything at all, baby… j-just please.”

he looked so submissive pressed against the wall like that. you slowly sank down to your knees, you dominance only getting stronger from there. “strip for me.” you commanded. he shyly slipped off his pants, letting them fall to his ankles and letting his foot-long cock spring out. you pressed the muzzle to his tip, drawing a string of cum from it.

you wrapped your  other hand around his shaft, starting to pump him quickly as you gazed up at him with predatory eyes. he let out a sharp hiss as his hips bucked into your touch. he had been craving it so bad because his new girl wasnt half as good as you were.

you brought the gun to his ballsack, finger on the trigger as his heart raced from pleasure and panic. the deadly combination that he’d gotten you addicted to. 

he bit his bottom lip hard, drawing blood and letting a sharp iron tang fill his tastebuds. you moved your hand up and down his length, using his precum as lube as he throbbed from stimulation. “j-just like that, mama… t-thank you.” mindless little praises slipped from his lips as you brought your tongue to his cock, swirling it around the swollen tip.

he shuddered as you took him all the way in, using your teeth to deliver some edge to the pleasure. his back arched against the wall as he accidentally gripped your hair, almost making you blow his balls off. cum spilled out into the depths of your throat, filling your mouth with that familiar salty taste.

his eyes rolled to the back of his head as you used the gun to tease his asshole, the stimulation quickly becoming too much for him to handle. “o-oh my god… i-i can’t take it, mama..!” you bobbed your head up and down quickly, the rapid pulsation of his dick syncing with your racing heartbeat. you gagged and choked on his ginormous girth, your nose pressing against his stomach as you swallowed every inch of it.

his knees collapsed and he groaned out loudly, all intense feelings crashing down onto him at once as lava-like cum flooded your intestines. tears rolled down his cheeks as the orgasm shook his balance, making him lean against the wall for dear life. you pulled yourself off, catching your breath before getting back to your feet, kissing him once again and making him taste himself off your cum-stained lips.

he moaned deeply, shooting a few more ropes of cum onto the pavement as your tongues fought a silent war, his arms wrapped around your body as he clung to you. you felt his lip quiver underneath yours, desperation radiating off of him in waves. you smiled a little into the kiss, knowing that he wouldn’t let go of you anytime soon. you had him wrapped around your finger just as quickly as he got plucked away from you.

author's note: i rlly didn't mean for this to be so long. but it was so fun to write :))

[awritesthings1]

The Midas Effect (Part 2)

Anakin Skywalker x Royal Reader

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Royal Reader

Summary: After the King dies, the Dark Ones invade the Capital and burn your palace to the ground. You plan an escape, which ultimately fails and seemingly crash lands you back in time. Will the help of a familiar Jedi be able to save you from your fate?

Word Count: 2.8k+

Note: This is the final part! :)

AO3 link

Previous part

-

Sometime in the night, you lose yourself to the rhythm of the rain. Its presence swallowed your thoughts away into distant lands where the howl of the clouds drew tears from the sky. Where the valleys drowned themselves in waterfalls pouring down from mountain cliffs. Where mud swallowed earthly greens out of greed and where the creaking of floorboards disappeared under the roaring of the storm.

It was all the same.

Yet you still felt like a stranger in your own home.

The scar across Anakin’s eye remained as memorable as it did the day you last saw him. And the heat of the mug in your hands thawed your hands the same way. Because you couldn’t mistake any of this for anything but real. So it had to be true just the same way you were a girl and he was a Jedi.

For lack of a better term, you missed Anakin Skywalker.

You realize all of this after you position yourself in front of the fireplace. Anakin had gone to gather thicker blankets and fluffier cushions to make your spot on the floor comfier.

The universe had sent you a second chance. You just need to figure out why.

“Anakin.” His name sounds like a prayer on your lips.

Anakin, who was crossing the threshold of the room, stops still in his tracks. “Yes?”

You turn your face away from the fire, fighting away the wobble in your voice with a teary-eyed smile. “Come sit with me?”

He thinks you look like a precious vase on the verge of cracking. Without another word, he scrambles to your side, careful not to make too much noise with the weight of his boots. Anakin is afraid to make any sudden movements and cut the thinly disguised pain on your face.

The truth is, you hated being alone. When you were alone, your thoughts got too loud. It was like being stuffed in an overcrowded room with no door. And no matter how many people you elbowed out of the way, two more would rear their ugly heads. Sometimes you think you might be better off letting them grab your shoulders and press you into the crowd until you wilt away and become a dot among thousands of bodies. At least then you wouldn’t need to worry about where you place your hands.

Anakin must see the slouch in your shoulder when he brushes the back of his knuckles down your arm. You shiver because it’s the flesh hand. If only he knew his mistake before he touched you. Didn’t he know everything you touched turned to stone?

Your father once told you about a king named Midas. Everything he touched turned to gold. What a heavenly gift, you thought. You could have a gold hairbrush, gold slippers, and a large golden mirror. How could that be a curse? The ending never made sense. You would never be so dumb as to touch your family and make the mistake of turning them into gold.

You tense at your naivety. How stupid you had been. Because wasn’t that exactly what you had done? But instead of gold statues, you turned them into chiseled headstones perched in the meticulously groomed family graveyard.

The thoughts cluster together like a star ready to burst.

Bigger and bigger, they swell, burning your toes until it’s large enough that the fireplace disappears and then the room. It’s just you and the taunting ball of light.

“…in your head?” Anakin’s husky voice rasps like the burning sphere. It explodes then, pricking the soles of your feet with shards of debris.

“Huh?” You reply absentmindedly, albeit not all there.

He exhales through his nose slowly, fixing you with an intense stare. Or at least it felt that way. It was easy to feel small next to the Jedi. He was the kind of man your dad would approve of— someone strong and ambitious to rule the kingdom by your side one day. He’d give you one of those sly looks fathers gave their daughters after a joke they told fell flat. You scrunch your nose at that.

“You were fine before you went to bed. Did you have a nightmare?” Anakin asks.

You are almost certain that’s not what he said originally, but you don’t have an ounce left in your frail body to argue.

You shake your head, hoping he will let it go. How would you explain that you almost died in a crash and accidentally traveled back in time into your younger body? It wasn’t like Anakin had any reason to trust you. You had never been close, and you mostly avoided everyone after your father’s passing.

His lips part as if to say something, but he presses them closed shortly after to embrace the silence. You would thank him if you didn’t feel like a ghost trapped in a stranger’s place. What use are your hands when they tremble and cramp? Anakin would be wise to cut one off to replace his metal hand so at least then one of your hands would be able to save people.

He shuffles closer until you feel the tickle of his golden locks. “Did I ever tell you the story of how I lost my hand?”

Your teeth gnaw on the flesh of your bottom lip. You think if he opens his mouth one more time in that silky, soft rasp of his, you will burst into tears. Just one more sweet ounce of affection, and you would throw up at his feet and effectively soak his robes with your pathetic tears.

“Obi-Wan and I were on Genosis—”

It all comes out. All the muffled noise that had been prowling through your head comes crashing out.

“Come here,” Anakin abandons the story, shuffling closer until his whole body is pressed into your side.

The leather material of his glove combs through your head. You almost purr like a lothcat at the sensation. But instead, you just cry into the cusp of his neck where you can feel the pulse of an artery. His fingers brush loose strands out of your mouth and behind your ear. Anakin’s chin rests on your head, mumbling something unintelligible under his breath. It’s probably something like, you’re alright, or it’ll all be fine, that people say when they don’t know how to comfort anyone. You’ve heard them a million times, and it never makes you feel any better.

Intertwining your hand with Anakin’s leather one, you pull it to your lap where you fiddle with the notches.

��Can I see it?” You sniff.

His brows furrow as you watch the cogs turn in his head. After a moment, he lets out a sigh, releasing your hair to unlatch the leather glove. Before he removes it, you place your hand over his and tug away the glove yourself. What you see next makes you bite down hard on your tongue.

It’s gold. His metal arm is gold.

The Midas effect: everything you touch turns to gold.

Anakin mistakes your delirious laughter for tears, shushing you and trying to rock you gently. “The Midas effect! The Midas effect,” you babble mindlessly, batting his attentive touch away. When Anakin pauses to hold your shoulders, you continue. “The Midas effect, Anakin,” you laugh while a tear slips out.

“What’s that?” He questions.

“The King whose touch turns everything to gold. I’m cursed like him.”

Puzzled, he looks at his golden arm. Even through your weary-eyed mess, you catch the faintest smirk on his face. By now, your maniacal laughter had died down enough to hear a gentle chuckle from the Jedi. Maybe your state of mind has brushed off on him. If anyone saw the two of you, they would surely think you were both patients who escaped a ward.

Anakin smiles at you. “Who told you that?”

“You haven’t heard the story of King Midas?” You match his grin.

He bites his lip, shaking his head. “It’s not a story the Jedi have ever told me.”

You swallow a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. It would be too easy to shamelessly sink into the Jedi’s arms and bury your head in his chest forever. Of course, if he hugged you back, it would be out of pity because it was his job to look out for you. Regardless, you don’t really care at this point.

Anakin clears his throat. “You should get to bed; it’s late.”

It’s been late for the past couple of hours, you think wryly. “I don’t want to go to sleep.”

He ignores you, reaching for his glove to refasten it on his arm. “Let’s go; all princesses need their beauty sleep,” but you don’t budge from your spot. Quietly, he slips out to the kitchen to fetch a bucket of water. When he returns, you watch him douse the fire until it sizzles out.

“Can you show me a Force trick?” You lean back onto the floor, stretching out like a star.

He sighs, turning around as if to check to see if anyone was hiding nearby before turning back to you. “Is there a reason you don’t want to go to bed?”

You blink up at him lazily. “What if I don’t wake up?” The words slip past your lips without a thought. God, look at you. How could anyone ever trust you with being Queen? Not when the filter keeping your deepest fears broke in a matter of hours within the presence of a Jedi.

Anakin inhales sharply. Perhaps you misjudged him. Maybe that was his Jedi trick— bringing the most unsettling thoughts to the surface.

“I’ll keep watch over you,” he nods.

“You promise?”

“I’ll be right next to you when you wake.”

You watch him as if he were a shooting star, burning so bright but gone in the blink of an eye. Your eyes burn, afraid to close them and snuff the light out. You don’t know what waits for you on the other side. Death, perhaps. Would it be dark? Would it be cold? You had heard tales of kings who buried everything they would take to the afterlife with them: their favorite wine, lavish furs, cutlery and furniture. Yet all you have is the servant’s dress you had put on earlier. If you were wiser, you would have stopped pulling at the loose thread at the hem so you wouldn’t have to worry about having one rag to your name in the afterlife. Huh. How ironic, you think, a queen with only a rag to her name. There’s something awfully fitting about that.

“Will you hold my hand?” You don’t want to go into the end alone.

Wordlessly, he lies down next to you on the floor, mimicking your position. His cheek presses into the floor, watching you as he slides his leather hand closer. Anakin’s hand is much larger than yours when he encompasses it gently and rubs his thumb up and down your knuckles.

Your skin is dry and stiff from where your tears have dried, but you still find it in you to smile out of gratitude.

“Goodnight, Anakin.”

And how lucky you must be to know that the tender caress of skin feels the same as slipping into a dream.

-

You find that death isn’t as scary as you expected. Its shrill cry rings like a bell in your ear, awakening you from a deep slumber. Death’s arms are wound tight across your chest in an unwanted hug. Instinctively, you claw at your chest to pull it away. It tightens then, and you jump at the sound of your own scream.

Your eyes fly open, just as the harness of your seat digs into your skin.

You survived.

Relief floods over your head and you sink beneath it. The moment is brief, enough to steal a burning gulp of air. It isn’t fresh or clean, and your lungs protest at the smoke, but it’s the fuel you need to keep pushing.

Shaking hands reach to undo your harness, and you think it’s a bit strange how one is concealed by a leather glove. Neither Vee nor the Alderaan pilot were wearing one when you boarded. You spare a look up.

“Getting yourself into more trouble, princess?”

I’ll be right next to you when you wake.

Anakin had never been a liar.

When the harness clicks open, you throw yourself at him despite, your legs giving out halfway there. He catches you in the rush, the hood of his robe falling back to reveal those tender curls you always loved. Anakin laughs a boyishly. It reminds you of timber crackling in the fireplace.

“Good to see you too,” he smiles, brushing away the dirt and sweat you felt sticking to your face.

You don’t even consider the repercussions of your actions as you sling both arms around his neck and pull him into a kiss. It must be the shock, you think, or perhaps part of you still thought you were dreaming. Either way, he doesn’t pull back and it makes your stomach twist into knots.

When you pull back, you push him away and scream joyously at the sky, stretching your arms as far as they will go. You forget about it all, letting the hairs on your arms stand tall and shiver in a satisfying way.

And then it hits you.

“Vee!” You cry, hissing at the throbbing sensation in your head as you must have whipped your head around too quickly.

She comes running around a large piece of debris from the ship with her hands gathered in her skirt. Behind her is the Alderaan pilot, who cradles his arm carefully across his chest. “Are you hurt?” She asks.

“I’m fine. How about you?” You answer, although your words are muffled into her shoulder as you embrace.

“I was lucky. Only a broken arm over there,” she says, looking back at the pilot, a small smile ghosting her lips before turning back. She stills.

You follow her gaze over your shoulder to Anakin. He looks just as unnerved. Your eyebrows furrow. “Vee, you remember Anakin. The Jedi that guarded me after my…” The words die on your tongue. After my father died.

She clears her throat. “Forgive me, Jedi Skywalker. I am just surprised, that is all. I thought the Jedi were a thing of the past.” Her words are curt.

You flinch at her formal address. It probably wasn’t appropriate for you to refer to Anakin by his first name, but it also couldn’t have been appropriate to kiss him either.

Anakin sneaks a glance at you, catching his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment before looking back at Vee. “We may not have a temple anymore,” he says, holding your gaze, “but we do have our responsibilities.”

“What happened to you?” You don’t mean for it to come out so suddenly, but like most things in your life, it passed you by.

He swallows and forgets to blink. “Your ship won’t make it past their lines in the sky. I suggest we take mine; it should have landed just past that hill.” He gestures somewhere in the distance. “And then we will get that cut cleaned, my lady.”

Your mouth sours at the formality before reaching above your eyebrow. When you pull your fingers away, they are covered in fresh blood. Oh.

Anakin brushes past you, swiping the faintest touch across your arm as he does. You study Vee and the Alderaan pilot to see if they caught it, but they appear unphased. Quietly, you follow behind him.

After a minute of walking in silence, you speak up. “Why did you come back?”

“I heard about the invasion of Caridaan and figured a little princess may need my help.”

“Queen.”

“What?”

“I’m Queen now.”

Anakin grins, still focused on his ship in the distance. His smile hasn’t changed.

“You remember that story you told me? About the King who turned everything to gold?” Anakin begins. You nod, confused about where he was going with this. Regardless, you watch as he fumbles beneath his robe to reveal his silver lightsaber. He stops in his tracks, grabbing your arm gently to draw your attention closer. “Put your hand out.”

You gape at him. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he sighs, putting the metal hilt into your hand anyway. It’s heavier than you expected, larger too. You wonder how he is able to wrap his hand around the whole thing. “Press the button.” He shifts to your side to stay clear of the direction you are holding his weapon.

When you do, a single beam of blue light ignites. It hums beneath your grip. “I don’t understand,” you gulp. You never really knew much about the Jedi. Anakin had told you about the different colors briefly, how the good guys were blue and green, and the bad guys were red. Still, you failed to understand what point he was trying to prove.

By your side, Anakin inhales deeply before exhaling. “Doesn’t look cursed to me.”

The King whose touch turns everything to gold. I’m cursed like him.

You see a silly reflection of yourself in the silver hilt.

The silver metal feels just right in your hand.

[athenodora-sulpicia-writer]

Vanessa ives - where we meet at a ball and she ask us to dance, she never got our name and follows us home to find out we are the daughter of Evelyn Poole. So we start seeing Vanessa behind our mothers back and maybe if you could add some smut between us and vanessa?

Forbidden Love- Part 1- Vanessa Ives

A/N: Hey @wandamaximoff2823 thank you for your request, I'm so sorry for the long wait, I've been really struggling to get back into writing but better as never I suppose 😅, anyway I hope you enjoy this and that it was worth the wait.

Warning(s): Scars, smut, mentions of neglect/abuse.

I was never one to be interested in the intricacies of the aristocratic ways of the upper class but mother had asked me to be here and what ever mother asked you to do was never a simple request but a very firm order.

I entered the lavish estate of a Mr Dorian Grey, unescorted of course, how scandalous. A butler or perhaps he was a servant came and took my cloak and directed to me where all the fuss and chatter was coming from, so I followed the sound of champagne induced laughter and discussion of who owned the most properties in the countries, which took me to a grand ballroom which was filled to the brim of upper class Londoners, an orchestra and the walls were completely lined with portraits, show off.

I weaved my way through the large doorway that lead into the ballroom a feat which would have been easier if everyone was deciding to take up the space. I'd originally dressed to blend in and not draw in to much unwanted attention, who would have thought that wearing dress of gold and white (the opposite of what my mother would have ever approved of) would have caught so many stares and glances.

A server came to me with a tray of champagne and though I was usually partial to a class or two I knew I had to keep my mind as agile as possible for the task my mother had sent me to do. I was told to not get to close to Miss Ives but just enough to use some effective Nightwalker magic on her mind, this should have been Hecate's job not mine but apparently according to mother "Hecate had her own tasks" I would have used the chores or enslavement but I'd rather not have a gash from the tip of my cheek to my chin so I kept my mouth shut.

For a moment as I was thinking a man approached me and I could already smell the alcohol from a mile, this would be wonderful not, I snarled for a moment at the thought but as the man was now in reach of me I returned my face to its natural composure.

"What's a charming dove like you doing all alone and without a chaperone?" This man, who looked old enough to be a someone who should start writing their will, asked me. Who looked like the usual upper class prick, my least favourite kind of mortal irritation.

"That is none of your concern sir, now if you wouldn't mind walking off to go and compare your assets, though I'm sure yours are lacking by the looks of things, with the other gentlemen I'd be most thankful." I said the man with my best 'I'm super important' voice but when the man didn't leave I know that my word choice may have been a little too much.

"How dare you speak to me in such a way," The man snarled at me and was quick to grab my upper arm harshly and with so many people in the room it would be easy to not notice or ignore what he was doing. "Now judging by your dress I'd say your still a maid, so why don't you be a good little heiress and have a drink with me on the balcony," Damn this dress I just wanted to wear something that was the opposite of the scars on back and now I was being mistaken for a maid because of it, just fabulous.

As more time passed and I hadn't responded, the man's grip on my upper arm was becoming painfully tight and even for someone like me, I couldn't hold back a wince.

"Ah cousin," I heard a feminine voice call out and upon hearing the voice my head turned abruptly to the direction of the voice and then I saw her. She had raven black hair, sky blue eyes and pale ivory skin and was wearing the most fabulous black and red dress I'd ever seen and she was walking over to me. Well that's half a job done and half a job failed.

Once she stood by my side she began to speak again, "Thank you for keeping my cousin company Sir," She spoke to the man who still had his hand on my upper arm, "But now that I am here I believe she is no longer in need of your company," Her voice which originally was soft and compliant of any woman in this room and now become more natural almost steely.

I could feel the man's grip tighten and I knew who was about to say something but for whatever reason after he made eye contact with my ravenette saviour he let go of my arm completely and walked off without another word. My first reaction was to rub at my arm, even if I knew it would heal within a minute or two.

"I Apologise for the cousin lie but I can tell when a woman is uncomfortable." She spoke to me with a kindness I knew would be there if she knew who I actually was. "My name is Miss Ives," She spoke again with a slight bit more formality, extending out a hand for me to shake and suddenly I was grateful to the creme gloves I was wearing because if I weren't she'd probably be able to sense exactly what I was.

"No apologies needed, It's a pleasure to finally meet you Miss Ives." I spoke with the same slight formality as she but then I soon thought of the implications of my words and I began to internally kick myself for making such a slip up, my mother was going to kill me if I messed this up.

"To finally meet me?" She looked at my with a smile and odd confusement in her expression. "Why have we been intending to meet one another before today?" She asked me curiously with a slight chuckle to her voice which was somewhere between being eerie and joyful.

"Not at all, I simply meant that," I paused for a moment to think of a better excuse for my slip up, "I've heard your name on people's lips before, it's nice to put a face to the name, Miss Ives." I said coming up with something that I thought was a decent enough excuse that would hopefully appease her curiosity.

"Oh, I didn't know I was a topic of gossip," She spoke again and though she was trying to feign ignorance I could tell she had noticed my slip up by the way her eyes looked at me and how her pupils darkened with triumph at her victory.

"Well anyway would you care for a dance?" She asked me her tone lighter with an undertone of something that was perhaps mischief, as she gave a slightly bow and extended out hand, facing upwards, to me.

"Well people do like to talk," I was very quickly scanning the ballroom for a quick escaped to the exit and when I found it I took my chances, "I must be going Miss Ives, good evening." I said the formal goodbye and quickly left through the small gap that had been left to the exit and retrieved my own cloak and quickly began to set off back up to the manor we were staying in that was slight ways away.

As I walked under the nights dark sky at a brisk pace, I thought of how I knew my mother would be anything but pleased at what she would see as a display of my incompetence at not completely her 'simple' task but I also thought about how what she didn't know couldn't hurt her, a policy I very much enjoyed using with my mother. Though if she were to ever find out I knew I'd probably be crucified upside down with no last words being allowed.

Not long later I made up back to our home, a manor that was slightly outside of central London. I walked up the stone steps that led to the large front doors which i opened with a heavy gust of wind which came when I turned my wrist in just the right way and I walked inside oblivious to anything else as I took my cloak off and threw it somewhere I didn't care to check.

As I walked further into the foyer at the front of the manner, I started ragging the gloves of my arms and unpinning the mass of my that sat atop my head. It felt euphoric when my hair cascaded down my back because finally all the weight was off the crown of my head and sighed out in a pleased way not caring for all the bobby pins that were fall the marble floor and making a clattering sound.

For a moment all I thought I could hear was the clattering of my bobby pins on the floor, which was a lovely relief because it meant that my mother possibly my sisters weren't in the manor or they were at least asleep, either way I was happy to not be bothered by any of them.

As I just about started to walk up the overly elaborate staircase upstairs, I heard a bang and then a mumble and quickly whipped my body around to the direction of the sound which just happened to be the front doors and then I saw her, Vanessa, well this is just fabulous.

"Miss Ives, what on earth are you doing here?" I asked feigning confusion and innocence as I walked down the few steps I had just walked up. I then walked over to where Vanessa was, in the middle of the foyer, taking in her surroundings of the dark and quietly frankly disturbing manor.

"You never told me your name," She began to say, the meaning behind her voice was obviously detached from what she was saying to me as she was to focused on surveying her new surroundings. "What possible reason do you have for being here?" She asked me finally making eye contact and her steely gaze was hardened and distrusting.

She must be able to feel the aura of the manor, Hell she probably had a pretty good idea about who lived here which meant she probably knew what I was. "Miss Ives I know how it may look but..." I began to say to Vanessa before I heard the creaking of floorboards coming from upstairs and as the noise grew closer the sound of footsteps accompanied it.

A horrible sense of dread filled my chest because I knew that it was just the wind or if it was a person, as I suspected it was, it wasn't one of my sisters, it was my mother. I didn't have much time to think and I'm not sure what compelled me to do it but I quickly faced Vanessa agin and twisted my wrist in her direction and a gust of with pushed her against one of the far walls and quickly I consumed her in enough mist to make her invisible.

Just as I turned back around to face the staircase but before I was able to regain my composure, my mother was at the top of the staircase in one of her robes and her hair pinned. "Oh mother, hello," I spoke trying calm my voice down as to not give anything away.

"Y/N you've returned, I assume the task I sent you on was a success then." She phrased it in a way that anyone would think it was meant as a question but I knew she didn't mean it as one, she never did.

"Yes mother," I spoke with my head bowed, lying through the skin of my teeth, praying she wouldn't notice my lie. "Lucifer's bride had a bit of a manic episode at the party and fainted," I explained to my mother whilst trying to come up with a believable lie, we were expected to refer to Vanessa as Lucifer's bride, the thought always made my skin crawl but I'd never let it show.

"Good, I'm pleased to hear," I eternally sighed of relief when my mother spoke like she had know idea that I had lied to her and I was grateful for it. "Well I shall retire for night now," She then finished saying as she walked back the way she came and the sound of her footsteps soon disappeared completely.

Once my mother was gone I couldn't even give myself a moment to enjoy my victory as I know Vanessa was still stuck the wall and covered in mist. I quickly ran other to where I cast her off and released from my nightwalker magic, to which she fell from the wall gasping for breath.

"Miss Ives," I quickly got down on the floor as she was still gasping, "Miss Ives you must leave, if my mother or sisters find you here you will never leave," I tried to encourage her off the floor and I eventually got her to her feet but she wasn't leaving. "Listen, I understand your in shock and still recovering but you have to leave right now," I kept urgently encouraging her to leave but it wasn't quite working. "Vanessa!" I shouted her name and this finally snapped her out of wherever she'd been in her head, she made eye contact with me once before running out of the manner and disappearing and all I could do was finally sigh in relief. What a night. __________________________________ So I've had to split this request into two parts because it was getting a little long. Anyway, thank you all for reading, I hope you all enjoyed and until next time fellow readers.

Tag List @ateliefloresdaprimavera @cissyenthusiast010155 @multifandomfix @multimilfs

[bullet-prooflove]

Can I have Dwight Hendrickson x Fem reader with the prompt "You're way too young to be broken" from prompt list 18?

It’s the Rev that makes you lose your shit. There’s a very powerful connection to Troubles and trauma and that man, he’s done unspeakable things to you. It’s everything Dwight can do not to murder him everytime he lays eyes on him. The worst part is that if  he tried to exorcize ‘the demon’ out of you as a child how many others are there that Dwight doesn’t know about.

It’s the taste of Ozone that alerts Dwight to the problem, the sharp tang stings his tongue as you dart up the steps and inside the funeral home. Your hands are tucked into your pockets but he would bet his life that the static is sparking like crazy.

When you get into the Sky Room you can see it’s been re-decorated. The walls were painted a duck egg blue that complimented the glass pane that was fixed into the ceiling over a gorgeous, backlit display of a white clouds set against a crisp blue sky. It’s one of the chapels of rest, thankfully an empty one for now.

Your vision tunnels; your legs quiver as you put your hand on the wall for balance.

You can’t breathe, you can’t fucking breathe.

The pressure in your chest is getting worse, the lightning in your veins was zinging through your nerve endings like a pin pong ball, searching for an outlet. Your knees buckle, sending you crashing down onto the beige carpeted floor. It feels soft underneath your palms as you close your eyes, trying to draw in a breath.

The final cable of your control snapped. Your ears pop, a rush of noise assaulting your senses as the deluge of power forces its way out of your body. The air crackles, your mouth filled with metal as the current grips you, releasing streaks of gold that emanate from you skin. Shards of glass explode from a vase of flowers, singed petals erupt into the air like a flurry of snowflakes. The spotlights above flicker, flashing like strobe lights as the power drained from your body.

It hurts like hell, like there’s someone driving a thousand tiny needles into your flesh. The static ricochets through your bones, your teeth grinding together as a low whine tearing from your throat.

There’s was a relief to the agony. The sensation of emptiness swelling deep within you as you draw in your first breath in what seems like an eternity.

The door swings open, Nathan barrelling through. You can’t speak, can’t warn him. You stick out a hand to ward him off because the electricity is still live.

Dwight’s hand shoot out, grasping Nathan’s arm and hurling him out of the way before he can take more than a few steps.

‘Don’t touch her!’ He tells Nathan as he yanks him back. ‘She’s dangerous right now.’

‘He’s right,’ You say finally, your throat raw. You can feel the current starting to ebb away but it’s still there, still vengeful, still violent.

Nathan hovers before Dwight tips his head towards the kitchen he saw on the way in.

‘Go get her a bottle of water and something sugary to eat.’ He says before stepping inside the room and shutting the door quietly behind him. He crouches down alongside of you staying just shy of the electric field as you sank back onto your knees. Your eyes meet and you remember the last time this had happened around him, how calm he’d been, how reassuring. Your hands come to settle on your thighs as you take a deep breath and then another.

‘It’s getting worse, isn’t it?’ He says as he looks at the shards of glass embedded in the carpet. ‘It was never as bad as this before.’

‘Yea.’ You say shakily as you use the back of your hand to wipe away the sweat from your brow. ‘It is.’

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

Tagging: @kmc1989 @princesschyanne @words-and-seeds @cookiedoughmeagain

[romeoandjulietyouwish]

potato salad

read on ao3

this is based on an hc by @stayinggoldforpony

Pony didn’t even think about it, not even once during the lead up to the fourth. The gang was excited, Darry was going to cook hot dogs and burgers and they were going to sit on the porch and watch the fireworks. 

The fourth of July was one of the few days of the year that neither Darry nor Soda had to work. And now that Ponyboy and Darry were on better terms, he found himself actually looking forward to it. The better part of the day was spent lazing around, the other boys drinking. Even though both Darry and Soda were younger than him when they started drinking, Pony still wasn’t allowed to. So he smoked instead. 

After losing more than a few hands of gin rummy, Darry got up to start cooking. Not wanting his brother to do all the work alone, Ponyboy trailed after him. When Darry saw him coming to help, he smiled and squeezed the back of Pony’s neck. 

“Thanks, kid.”

Pony shrugged, “I figured if I help, I get first dibs, right?”

Darry chuckled, “Sure thing.”

It took a good while to fix everything up, cooking for five boys was no easy task. Especially when one of them (Two-Bit) ate like four. But eventually they had a massive pile of burgers and hot dogs as well as a bowl of potato salad.

Darry shouted to the gang that dinner was ready, sounding like an old man summoning the wild youths back to roost. Pony made sure to tell him that, earning himself a light thump on the back of the head. But Darry still let Pony serve himself first, so it was worth it.

They sat on the front porch steps as the sky darkened. Soda and Steve kept stealing from each other’s plates, nearly spilling everything to the ground. Pony watched, laughing the whole time. It felt good to laugh like that, deep and from the belly. None of them did that much anymore. 

It was nights like these that always made Pony miss Dally and Johnny. They were all supposed to be together, shooting the breeze and laughing until their heads hurt. Even though he was happy, it always felt like there was something missing. Johnny should have been at his side. Dally should have been right in the middle of all the chaos. It was a little emptier without them.

Seeming to sense his morose mood, Darry nudged Pony’s shoulder as he sat down beside him. “Head in the clouds, Pone?”

He shrugged, “I guess.” Pony moved some potato salad around on his plate. 

Darry sighed, “Just don’t get lost up there, savvy?” Pony nodded and Darry moved away with an affectionate squeeze on his shoulder. 

The sunset passed too quick for Pony’s liking. He wanted to savor it, but it was gone in a flash. Cheers started coming from the streets and the park as fireworks were being readied. Two-Bit was hollering enthusiastically, waving his beer around. He and Soda started singing some patriotic song, their voices so pitchy and loud that it was impossible to make out which one. 

Ponyboy felt a smile coming back to his face but it vanished immediately when the first firework went off. 

As he watched red and orange and yellow sparks shower through the sky, the thunderous noise echoing through his bones, Pony was seized by fear. In a flash, he was back in the church, fire surrounding him. Johnny was screaming as the beam fell on his back. Pony was choking on smoke. Dally was dying in front of him, merciless cops standing over him.

As the memories crashed through his mind, Pony did what he does best. He ran.

But outside wasn’t safe. There was fire outside. Johnny and Dally were dying outside. So he fled through the front door and through the hall to his bedroom. As another firework exploded outside, Pony gasped, throwing himself onto the bed.

It was safe there. Fire couldn’t reach him in there. Johnny wasn’t dying-

Stay gold. Stay gold. Stay gold.

Pony pressed his hands over his ears. He curled into a ball, pressing his face into the pillow. 

“Pony!”

He flinched at Soda’s voice, startling him as more fireworks went off outside. He whimpered and tried to hide again. 

“It’s okay, honey,” Soda said urgently.

Pony felt the bed shift as Soda laid down beside him. His brother wrapped him into a tight hug and tucked his head under his chin. Feeling Soda’s breathing and smelling the alcohol on him centered him just a little. Enough for him to open his eyes and see Darry lingering in the doorway, looking stricken. 

Pony’s breath hitched and he reached out for his big brother. In a second, Darry pulled both of them into his arms. 

“Fire,” Pony stuttered. “Johnny’s in the-the fire. Dally he-he-he won’t get there in time. 

“Shh,” Soda soothed, kissing the top of his head. “There’s no fire. You’re home, it’s alright, baby.”

Ponyboy shook his head frantically. They didn’t understand. He looked at Darry desperately. Darry knew how to fix things. He fixed roofs. He could fix what was broken in Pony’s mind. Thankfully Darry seemed to understand. 

“What do you smell, Pone?” Darry asked. He ran his fingers through his thick hair. 

Pony took a shaky breath, “Beer. Mustard. Soda’s gross cologne.”

Darry laughed, “That’s right. Do you smell any fire?” Pony shook his head into Soda’s shoulder. “Exactly. There’s no fire. It’s just fireworks outside.” Darry rubbed his back as he flinched from another loud explosion. “We got you, little buddy.”

“The kid okay?” Steve was standing in the doorway, Two-Bit behind him, for once looking sober. 

“He’ll be fine,” Darry assured them. “Wanna keep us company?”

“Hell yeah.” Two-Bit pushed into the room and jumped to land on the bed. “Fireworks are dogshit anyway.” Darry smacked the back of his head for cursing. “Tell you what, Horseman,” Pony grimaced at the name, “next year we’ll go up to the lake and teach ya how to swim.”

“I know how to swim,” Pony grumbled petulantly. He was still encased between his brothers so he thought he was allowed to be just a little petulant. 

“Sure you do, colt,” Soda murmured. Pony tried to twist around to elbow him, but wasn’t able to. He settled for grumbling under his breath for a few moments. 

The four of them kept talking around him, laughing and joking. They pretended not to notice when Pony flinched at the fireworks and one of his brothers whispered comforting words. Though the fireworks continued, so did the talking. Their conversations only got louder and louder, rattling the walls until Pony couldn’t hear the fireworks anymore.

[bungeepuppet]

Illumi's Toybox - Chapter 1 & 2

Summary: Hisoka is a mercenary who loves hunting powerful fighters, but gets more than he bargained for during his attempt to infiltrate Castle Zoldyck. Rating: Mature (Canon-typical Violence) Words: 4,800 Note: For reference, Illumi is 20 and Hisoka is 24! :3

Also on AO3! ✨ [Chapter 1| Chapter 2]

--

CHAPTER 1

The Kingdom of Padokea wrapped around the northwest coast of the northernmost continent of the Known World. Despite this, the weather of Padokea was temperate, and the late-spring temperatures coaxed out plenty of fresh blooms across the countryside. With such lush landscapes in abundance, Padokea was best known for its quaint villages and the friendly villagers that resided in them. 

Hisoka Morow, a young man that was a gladiator by day and a mercenary by night, was resting in his room on the second floor of an inn at the center of one such quaint village. He sat by the window, entertaining himself by shuffling a deck of playing cards as he stared past the cobbled rooftops and beyond the vast forests that surrounded the town.

His eye was trained on the gnarled, black mountain in the distance – the only thing that seemed out of place in this idealistic atmosphere.

Kukuru Mountain was the home of a very curious family. The royals there were not part of any governing force in the Kingdom of Padokea. They had seemingly no interest in any political affairs, and very rarely made appearances at gatherings. Anyone would say that it was unheard of for a royal family to be excluded from invitation lists, or to decline attending balls or galas comprised of nothing but the bluest blood in the world, but the elusive Zoldyck family was an exception.

It wasn’t quite as disrespectful as it sounded. It was not that they were being shunned, exactly, but rather it was that most royals and nobles alike would prefer to keep their connections with that particular family out of the public eye.

The Zoldyck family, after all, was first and foremost, a family of assassins.

Sometime within the last hundred years or so, they were recognized officially as a royal family. No one seemed to know what council decided it, or what the purpose of the decision was, but it didn’t matter. The family was fabled to be so demonically powerful and ruthless, that there wasn’t a soul on Earth who would try to argue the authenticity of the title to them.

The fluttering of cards filled the air as Hisoka smiled and licked the corner of his mouth in anticipation.

His favorite pastime was tracking down powerful fighters and then killing them. Watching their confidence sap away into immobilizing fear was so delectable, so irresistible, that it was Hisoka’s sole driving force in life. The impending hunt for a good fight whet his appetite, and the castle on Kukuru Mountain promised a variety of meals that would satisfy his cravings, at least for the time being.

Hisoka had done as much research as anyone could about the Zoldyck family, and now all there was left to do was a field study.

–

The light of the waning moon was swallowed in the inky shadows of the forest’s reaching bows, providing only patches of light on the seldom-traveled road. Above the darkened woods, Kukuru Mountain marred the idealistic night sky, leering down at any who might approach it with a tremendous force that fit the stories Hisoka had gathered about his prey.

In a blur of red and gold, Hisoka ran at an impossible speed up from the valley at the base of the mountain. He saw no need to dress for stealth, and instead wore a perfectly tailored red, white, and gold outfit, just as he would if he were performing at the colosseum in Heaven’s Arena. Hisoka made it a point to dress nicely for his fights, and it wasn’t as though the heels and corset-like binding around his waist would slow his movements.

So instead of dressing in black to sneak through a forest at night, Hisoka was confident that using In to completely conceal his aura was all he would need to do to avoid being caught.

As he flew up and over boulders and fallen logs, Hisoka caught sight of what he suspected was the beginning of the Zoldyck territory. Standing directly ahead of him was a massive stone wall, at least thirty meters in height. The daunting hurdle did not deter him, and with a single, hard push off of the ground, Hisoka launched himself high. He easily cleared the wall, so quickly that his shadow barely registered on the open path before it was gone again. 

He landed in a sprinter’s lunge on the other side, with his hand splayed flat onto the cold grass. The forest outside seemed to only break for a moment to allow the road leading to the castle to pass, and then continued on inside the grounds as if it was never interrupted at all. 

Hisoka smiled, unable to contain his excitement. Without a doubt, the castle would have much more impressive security than a gigantic wall, and he was eager to find out what was in store for him. He wasn't supposed to engage with anyone tonight, but if the opportunity arose, he didn't think he would be able to resist a few quick killings.

He didn't spare more than a second to relish in the thought, then continued sprinting up the mountain. He kept his body low, and his quick steps were close to silent.

After a few minutes, the glow of torches and the sound of commands being called out signaled to Hisoka that despite his efforts, somehow he was discovered. His smile crept back up as the voices drew nearer.

A man in armor yelled orders to a group.

“Fan out! Mike is tracking–” 

Before he could finish his sentence, a playing card sliced through the air and across his throat. Blood spurted from the wound, and the man collapsed to the ground in a heap without more than a quick choking sound. 

Hisoka circled the group, unable to convince himself out of indulging his nagging, ever-present desire to spill blood. These were undoubtedly the Zoldyck Castle's guards, and he was curious to see how much of a fight they would put up. He was confident that the Zoldyck family would have well-trained fighters and Nen users alike to repel any number of bounty hunters and revenge seekers that surely plagued them.

Though, as he whizzed by, cutting the throats of another handful of men, he began to doubt that confidence he had. Well, even if it was too easy, it was still enjoyable. 

His laughter echoed in the surrounding forest as he continued picking off guards. The last of the troupe pursuing him fell dead, and he took a moment after to lick a stripe of blood off of his card. The panic caused by his attack was evident as more shouts and torches pushed at the edges of his hiding places. It didn’t concern Hisoka – even though any plan to spy on the family was ruined for the evening, he was certain that there were plenty of places that he could hide out on the property until an opportunity arose. 

Suddenly, an icy, murderous intent flowed through the woods, catching Hisoka’s attention. 

His yellow eyes glistened with curiosity, but upon further inspection, the tremendous bloodlust was obviously not a person. Something was hunting him, something large, with the desire to kill him and nothing more. 

If the presence was just a beast, Hisoka had no reason to stay and kill it. He was not interested in fighting something so trivial, and instead opted to continue his trek to find the castle hiding somewhere on the expansive property. Hisoka’s boot dug into the soft earth, and he rocketed forward again, sprinting uphill in hopes of spotting the castle, all the while easily outrunning whatever it was that was tailing him.

He must have run almost three kilometers before realizing that what he thought were stars were actually the faint glimmer of windows, high above, close to the mountain’s summit. If not for the luminous glow of candles beyond those windows, the castle's pagoda roof would have gone completely unnoticed, black as night against Kukuru Mountain’s volcanic exterior. 

Hisoka’s mind whirred to life, already thinking of ways he could attempt to scale the cliffs leading upward without being noticed. It wouldn’t be tonight; he would have to wait for a few days before it would be safe enough to move again.

An abrupt, sharp strike to the back of Hisoka’s head cut his thoughts of further trespassing short. The force behind the strike buckled his knee midstep, and although he instinctually rolled forward, he still hit the ground hard. He skidded across the uneven, rocky floor, then landed alongside the dirt road on his elbows.

Hisoka had not sensed anyone or anything near him, and quickly swiveled his head back around to try and catch a glimpse of what had hit him.

He saw nothing hiding among the trees, but before he could turn his head back around the other way, he was struck again. The proximity of this attack allowed for a concentrated strike to the base of his skull, and in an instant he was unconscious. 

The air fell silent then, the cries from the castle guards disappearing as if lost in a vacuum. With no sound outside the rustling of leaves, an ominous figure stepped out of the shadows, each step precise and calculated. The figure walked to Hisoka’s side, and stared at him with large feline eyes, irises wide and cold.

A small breeze pushed the figure’s shape, and revealed shoulders that had been completely eclipsed by long, black hair. The figure was that of a man, tall and thin, and dressed immaculately. His hair wafted aimlessly to one side as he stared at the man who had caused such a stir in the dead of night.

“Prince Illumi.” A guard approached him and bowed his head. “Please accept our apologies. You should not have had to intervene to subdue such a nuisance.”

Illumi did not turn to the guard addressing him, and instead continued to stare.

“It’s alright. I just returned home.” He said in a flat tone. “He has a very powerful aura. I doubt any of the guards would have been able to stop him.”

Even though unconscious, Hisoka’s body was still evenly coated with perfectly controlled Nen.

“He is alive.” Illumi commented off-handedly.

He had kicked this intruder in the back of the head with the heel of his boot – it was very seldom that someone would survive one of his kicks, especially to such a delicate area. This man was very strong. He likely rivaled Illumi himself in physical strength, and it was unknown how powerful his Nen ability was.

“Bring me a pair of inscribed manacles.” He said after some brief contemplation. The guard closest to him nodded and then gestured toward the group arriving.

As they hurried to comply with their prince’s order, Illumi’s eyes did not leave his victim’s body. The reflection of Hisoka’s sleeping face distorted as Illumi’s irises began to swirl unnaturally, spinning threads of Nen in a long forgotten language from the center of his eye.

--

CHAPTER 2

For as large and foreboding as Castle Zoldyck was, the maze of tunnels and dungeons carved into the mountain beneath it was even larger. Crawling through the mountain’s innards, the stone passageways had existed for generations, and ranged from as icy as a root cellar, to as stifling as a sauna, depending on how far you were from an old pocket of magma.

There were plenty of dungeons, mostly used for keeping the current king’s prized hunting trophies – living specimens of gruesome, vicious monsters from across the world – locked away in the depths, until the king found a fitting use for them. There were only a handful of prison cells, and only one that was regularly used. 

Hisoka awoke with bleary eyes, but was quickly alert when he felt cuffs on his wrists. He moved cautiously, so as to not cause any disruptive noises. Only a quick adjustment of his forearms was needed to confirm that he was shackled to a wall, with his arms painfully cuffed straight behind him.

It was not a situation he was unfamiliar with; he had been in shackles plenty of times in his life as a gladiator and criminal. Still, it was concerning that he did not remember at all who had attacked him or how he had ended up here. It was also not something he needed to dwell on, as the most pressing issue was escaping.

Hisoka squared his body, opening up his nodes to allow his Nen to flow freely, but the warm, viscous feeling he was used to did not envelope him. That made him pause, and he focused more intently, but again was met with nothing. He had not been without control of his Nen since he was a small boy, and its disappearance gave him a feeling of vulnerability that he was not accustomed to.

Although it was very concerning, Hisoka was still confident that he did not need his Nen to escape from a pair of manacles. He was very flexible, and it took no effort to seat himself backwards over his wrists, or to loop his arms up from under his tucked legs, until he was seated with his arms now resting forward.

He had thought the cuffs were just uncomfortably tight, but as soon as he could see them, Hisoka was immediately aware of where the discomfort came from. In addition to the cuffs that bound his wrists, there appeared to be two ball-headed, metal skewers affixing them together through the middle as well. There was no bleeding, but as Hisoka’s Nen attempted once again to surge forth, the pinheads pulsed in response, emitting a murky purple aura that bled into the cuffs. 

Hisoka’s eyes dilated in surprise to see lettering appear on the cuffs in the same purple glow.

It was inscription – a very old technique among Nen users that had fallen out of practice as the language needed for it had died out. It was obvious that this was the cause of his dammed-up Nen. 

Hisoka’s brows furrowed; to lock up his aura was a very personal attack, as far as he was concerned. Whoever it was that had quite literally pinned his nodes shut, would suffer for it.

The sound of metal clanging systematically distracted Hisoka momentarily from his insult. 

He turned his head in the direction of the disruption, and saw, from his limited view, a metal door against the wall outside of his cell. The noises continued, clicking and clacking, until the vault-like door creaked open. Hisoka saw a number of mechanisms on the inside of the door, and figured that the sounds had been from a series of locks.

A voice spoke from the hallway beyond.

“He is in the farthest cell, my prince.”

The mention of a prince brought Hisoka's attention all the way up to a hundred. Could it be that one of the Zoldyck sons was speaking with a guard just outside the room? If Hisoka’s aura was currently able to, it would have spiked significantly.

“Thank you.” Another voice spoke. It was montone, almost light, but closer to bored.

The door opened fully, and an elegant, fair-featured man stepped inside. Hisoka's eyes widened expectantly, hurriedly trying to absorb all they could about his appearance.

This prince was tall, around 185 centimeters by Hisoka's guess, and had a slender frame. His hair fell to his mid-back and was a polished black color, boasting a healthy shine under the light of the nearby torches. He did not appear to be any older than his early-twenties, with his face devoid of any wrinkles, scars, or blemishes. It was surprising – he looked too untouched, too proper, to be one of the children in the monstrous and ruthless Zoldyck family.

Of course, Hisoka knew very well that appearances could be deceiving when Nen was involved. It was simply that from the many rumors he had heard about the family, that Hisoka had imagined a group of brutes, with sunken eyes and rippling physiques, adorned in their victims’ skulls and pelts. This man looked like a posh, well-to-do noble that one could find in the bourgeoisie district of any major city.

Well, aside from his large, drowning black eyes.

Illumi moved, undeterred by Hisoka's staring. The door shut behind him, and he didn't hesitate to approach the cell alone. His steps were casual, as though he was walking across a cozy reading den, and not across a musty, dank dungeon.

He stopped in front of Hisoka's cell and stared down at the captive man inside with an unreadable expression. Hisoka stared back, barely able to contain his excitement. 

Even without a trace of Nen, Hisoka could tell that the prince who stood before him was strong.

“Hello.” Illumi said plainly. 

Hisoka blinked. What an unassuming voice, he thought.

“Good morning. ♦” Hisoka greeted him back. He had no idea what time of day it was, but he didn't think that he was out for more than a few hours.

“You were caught trespassing on our property.” Illumi continued. “For that crime, it has been determined that you shall be executed.”

His tone remained eerily calm, despite the gravity of his words. Hisoka prevented his expression from falling. The situation was very dire without his Nen, and he had no idea exactly where he was or how to escape – but, he could certainly take advantage of this visit.

“Oh, that's disheartening to hear. ♠” Hisoka responded just as casually. He remained seated, but turned to face Illumi respectfully.

“You will be held here until your execution later today.” Illumi spoke again. Hisoka twinged inside; a few hours was all he had to figure something out.

“Ah, alright…” Hisoka feigned compliance, then looked away curiously. “If I may ask, where is here, exactly…?”

Illumi paused and tilted his head slightly. Usually when faced with such harsh truths, the prisoners he oversaw would scream and cry, then devolve into begging or threatening, depending on their personality. At least this prisoner kept his manners.

“You are in the castle prison.” He answered. Hisoka nodded with a hum. This prince was so honest, giving away information that he didn't need to. Hisoka wondered if it was possible to trick him into removing his cuffs, or even letting him go.

“That is all I wanted to inform you of.” Illumi said and turned to leave. The sudden departure would not help Hisoka – he needed him to stay.

“Going so soon? ♣” Hisoka called after him. Illumi stopped and turned back around. 

There was a silence that passed between them, but Hisoka felt no animosity. How thrilling!

“If I am to be killed today, could I ask a favor of you? ♦” Hisoka did his best to keep his tone from coming off as too playful, in spite of the anticipation swirling in his stomach.

“What is it?” Illumi asked. 

Hisoka felt his excitement climbing up his chest.

“I hope I am not too forward in asking, but would you humor me with a game before my impending death? ♥” His eyes closed like a fox’s as he smiled. 

“A game…?” Illumi set a finger to his lip with the question. 

“Yes, I love games. ♪” Hisoka nodded. “Are my belongings nearby? I had a deck of cards in my bag. Would you bring it to me?”

Illumi scanned the walls, and quickly found the bag in question on the other side of the room, set aside on an empty guard’s desk. As he made his way to it, Hisoka grinned internally. 

He couldn’t believe his luck; was this prince really going to humor such a meaningless request? For as strong as he was, was he really this easy to manipulate? It reminded him of a coddled child, having never had to make a decision for himself and easily being swayed with the promise of something fun or sweet. Less than ideal for an assassin, but it boded well for Hisoka’s chances of escaping.

Illumi, unaware of Hisoka’s silent machinations, stopped at the desk and began to look through the contents of the leather pouch.

The satchel did not contain much, but each item it held was equally odd, like a small container of candies, and a worn, wooden panflute. Among these trinkets, Illumi found two decks of cards. One was a deck of tarot cards, and the other was a deck of traditional playing cards. Illumi took the latter and returned to the cell.

“Is this the deck needed to play?" Illumi held the package up. Hisoka smiled appreciatively.

“Yes, that's it. ♥” He hummed. “Would you like to play a game?”

Illumi stared at him, again unreadable. After a moment of contemplation, Illumi noticed that something was off.

“Ah. Your arms.” He said, with more infliction than Hisoka had heard so far. “They were behind your back before.”

Hisoka tensed. 

Even such a small act of defiance could be deadly if Illumi defined it as such. No matter how docile he had seemed so far, Hisoka wasn’t foolish enough to take any word between him and this fabled beast lightly.

“…♠” 

He needed to answer carefully. 

“Mm, yes.” Hisoka adjusted his shoulders comfortably. “They had become quite stiff during the night, so I moved them to the front. ♣” 

He decided to not recognize how doing so could be seen as an attempt to escape, and prayed that Illumi would follow suit. 

“I hope that is alright, my prince. ♦” He added with a charming smile.

Illumi watched him, unmoving. 

A few agonizingly long seconds of silence passed, then Illumi abruptly sat down on the floor, regally so, with his shins to the ground and his knees together. He faced Hisoka, and held the deck up again.

“Explain the game.” He said, without a word more in regards to Hisoka’s change of position.

Hisoka could only blink, his previous spike of anxiety gone in an instant. This prince was so simpleminded that it was disarming. How could he not even question the flimsy excuse Hisoka had given? Could a cold-blooded predator even be so trusting, or was he just dumb?

“Yes, of course. ♣” Hisoka said smoothly instead of the many rude things he was thinking. “My arms are currently indisposed – would you kindly shuffle the deck for me? ♦” 

Illumi removed the cards from their packaging and began to shuffle them methodically. It made Hisoka smile to see such dedication in the motions; it was obvious that he was familiar with playing card games.

“That’s perfect. ♥” Hisoka said after a moment. “Now, please take out a card of your choice.”

Illumi pulled out a card and looked at it. It was thrilling to Hisoka to have someone royal following his orders so dutifully. He didn’t think Illumi even realized it.

“May I see?” He asked. 

Illumi turned his hand around and showed him the card; the four of diamonds, one of Hisoka’s personal favorites.

“What is this game?” Illumi's voice had a small push to it. Hisoka’s smile didn’t waver – this was so fun.

“My apologies! I wanted to build some intrigue.” He chuckled. “It’s a card trick. ♣”

“If you reshuffle your card into the deck, I will be able to pick it out of the stack without fail. ♦”

Illumi tilted his head in curiosity. Without any further explanation, he replaced his card and began shuffling the deck, just as thoroughly as before. Hisoka bowed his head, listening contently to the familiar sound of cards flicking against skin.

After he was satisfied, Illumi held the deck out to Hisoka, perfectly squared. A laugh bubbled out of Hisoka’s smile. 

“Could I ask you to fan the deck for me as well? ♦” 

Illumi used both of his hands to fan the deck, and held the cards out to Hisoka. The obedience made Hisoka’s insides throb with excitement.

“Thank you, my prince. ♥”

“Illumi.” Illumi interjected plainly. 

Hisoka felt his muscles flex involuntarily, his thighs and abdominals pulled tight from the sudden twitch between his legs. In his search, he was unable to find the names of anyone in the family except for the previous and current kings – Zeno and Silva, respectively.

The man that sat before him was Prince Illumi Zoldyck.

His abdomen rippled with an enticing heat, but Hisoka knew better than to let the feeling do anything more than fester inside him. If he played his cards right, he could have the opportunity to fight and kill Illumi very soon.

“Thank you, Prince Illumi. ♦” Hisoka eyed him with half-lidded eyes, despite his best efforts to remain outwardly unbothered.

He reached his shackled hands out from between the bars, and after tracing the air above them for a moment, placed his pointed nail onto the corner of one of the cards. Illumi pulled back and removed the card, and upon flipping it around, he found that it was the four of diamonds.

Illumi smiled. The card trick piqued his interest – Hisoka was fun.

“Do it again.” Illumi said, obviously pleased with the result. Hisoka smiled back.

“Of course, I can do it as many times as you like~♪” 

Illumi found this answer pleasing as well.

Hisoka waited patiently while Illumi went through the steps of the card trick again, then once again correctly chose his card from the deck. It was comical to Hisoka how much Illumi seemed to enjoy the novelty of a standard parlor trick, but he wasn’t complaining. The more that Illumi liked him, the better his odds were to avoid execution, if only for an extra day or two. 

They repeated the process a few more times until Illumi was satisfied.

“What other tricks can you perform?” Illumi asked as he straightened the cards in his hands. Hisoka had been giddily anticipating this turn in conversation.

“I’m quite fond of sleight-of-hand, and can do a lot of other tricks. ♥” He rolled his fingers for emphasis. “If you could free my wrists, I would be happy to show you. ♦”

The silence that followed the suggestion was much different than before. 

Illumi smiled calmly, but his eyes lost all luster, and bore into Hisoka’s with dangerous intent. The stare was all encompassing, as if it could swallow light itself, and Hisoka felt the uneasy drag it seemed to have on his body. Anyone else would have been chilled to the bone from such an unsettling expression, but Hisoka simply smiled back at him. 

His request was obviously too on the nose to come off as anything less than an attempt to escape. The prince’s naivety did have a limit after all.

“Forgive me – I was enjoying myself so much that, for a moment, I forgot I was your prisoner. ♠” His eyes didn’t stray from Illumi’s. “I hadn’t meant to suggest anything disrespectful.”

The black eyes watching him changed with a blink, immediately losing their unnerving quality. Illumi hummed and relaxed back onto his heels. He appreciated Hisoka’s self-awareness, and that he immediately corrected his misstep without having to be told.

“Alright.” Illumi replied in a lofty tone. The quick switch of mood surprised Hisoka again, and he laughed softly under his breath. He sighed and brought his attention back to the man in front of him.

Illumi was watching him again, very closely. A sane person would act with extreme caution with eyes like that on them. They gave the same impression as that of a guard dog standing alert, daring you to give them a reason, to inch just one step closer than you should, so it could rip you to pieces.

Hisoka adored expressions like that.

“Why did you laugh?” Illumi asked. Instead of sounding threatening, it sounded genuinely curious. Hisoka recovered quickly, ready with another practiced smile.

“You’re so gracious and straightforward, Prince Illumi. ♦” He said, mentally running his tongue over his teeth. The image of Illumi’s cold eyes was etched into his mind already. “I really enjoy people like you. ♥” 

Illumi’s mouth disappeared into a small line.

Only a moment later, there was a formal knock on the prison door.

“Prince Illumi,” A woman stated, just as formally as her knock. “I apologize for interrupting, but the Queen is calling for you. She asked that you meet her in the garden.”

Illumi let out a soft noise. If Hisoka wasn’t mistaken, it sounded a little disappointed.

“Alright.” Illumi replied. “I will be right there.”

“Thank you, my prince.” The woman called from behind the door again, then left. 

Without any hesitation, Illumi rose and palmed the cards back into a proper stack. He slid them into their box and returned them to Hisoka’s bag methodically, as if it was his own.

Hisoka’s smile remained while he watched him, but inched up more when Illumi turned back to him.

“Goodbye.” He said casually.

“Goodbye.” Hisoka nodded in his direction. “I hope I will see you this afternoon. ♠”

Illumi didn’t reply, but his stare lingered for a moment longer before he took his leave. Hisoka closed his eyes with a relaxed hum as he listened to the door’s many locks clack and grind back into place. That was an enjoyable experience.

He wasn’t sure if the pleasantries were enough to sway the coddled prince’s opinion of him, but he had a grain of hope. All the same, he was prepared to cut off his arms and run if he had to.

[alicewritingstories]

Whumptober Prompt Fills Part 10: Failure

~Also on AO3~

No. 29: “I only sink deeper the deeper I think.” | Scented Candle | Troubled Past Resurfacing | “What happened to me?”

Alt 2: Aftermath of Failure (Replacing 16)

Warnings: Discussion of past failure, implied trauma and flashbacks, mention of injury

Central character(s): Time, Wild

The battle was effectively over; even as Time looked around, sword at the ready, the last gold bokoblin fell to a combined attack by Wind and Four, leaking black blood on the ground for a moment before it exploded into smoke. Time sighed and nodded to himself as the others instinctively gathered around the wounded: Wild had been trampled by a lynel as it made its final charge - he'd shot it in the throat just before impact - but was stirring feebly under Sky's hands. Warriors was pulling an arrow out of Hyrule's shoulder while Legend held him down, telling him firmly that he was to accept healing for himself before going to check on Wild and that squirming was just making the wound larger. They all had the usual collection of cuts and bruises, but overall had got off lightly apart from those two.

"I'm going to check there are no more lying in wait," he called.

Twilight had joined Sky kneeling over Wild and was uncorking a potion, but he looked up and nodded. Four and Wind also looked round from hovering between their injured brothers and Four hurried to a ruined wall to climb up it and get a good vantage point. Wind stayed where he was, looking around carefully, his sword still in his hand.

Time smiled proudly and set off.

The battle had taken them into the edges of Wild's Castletown: a sad collection of ruins that, unlike other ruins in Wild's Hyrule, had not been taken over by nature. Only a few green shoots were starting to sprout between cracked stones and the shadow of the deserted castle fell ominously over everything. Once Time had turned a few corners away from where his boys were recovering from the battle, it was mournfully quiet.

Familiarly so.

As Time looked around the ruins of Castletown, destroyed by Ganon while its hero was deep in a magical sleep, his armor suddenly felt strange. He almost thought he heard Navi's voice in his ear, so clear that it made him look round for her.

In the distance he saw Vah Medoh, resting peacefully on its perch, and that reminded him that he was in Wild's Hyrule, not his own. That he was a grown man, no longer a child suddenly thrust into a teenager's body.

He shook his head hard and hastily continued his patrol, just watching for movements and trying not to look too hard at the empty, roofless houses marked with scorch marks.

He couldn't get back to the others too soon.

They had set up camp a little way further from the town and both Wild and Hyrule had been healed. Time smiled and spoke to them in something close to a daze, ate dinner without really being aware of what he was putting in his mouth, brushed off concerned questions, and went to sit on a rock overlooking the town. He knew it was a bad idea. He knew sitting and looking at a standing reminder of the moments after he had left the Temple of Time wouldn't help anything, but he felt drawn to it despite himself.

With a sigh, he picked up his ocarina - not the Ocarina of Time, but his own - and started playing it softly, settling into Zelda's Lullaby to stop himself drifting to the Song of Time.

"Time?"

He startled and looked up as Wild came and crouched down on the rock next to him, balanced on the balls of his feet. The champion nodded a greeting to him, then looked out over the ruins with a sigh.

"How are you feeling?" Time asked softly.

"Still bruised, but barely worth mentioning." Wild shifted to sit down normally and rested his elbows on his knees. After a long moment he said softly, "I hate coming here."

Time looked round at him again.

"I don't remember it except ruined and full of Malice and guardians. I've been back with Zelda a few times - she has big plans to rebuild - and she tries to tell me what it was like before, but…" Wild shook his head.

"What does she say?" asked Time, curious and glad of the distraction.

Wild shrugged. "Busy. Colorful. It sounds like it was a lot like your Castletown, actually."

Time looked back at the ruins. "Yes. It does remind me of my Castletown."

He could almost feel Wild's stare, but wasn't sure how to elaborate.

"I suppose… the fountain is in the same place? Relative to the castle?" ventured Wild.

Time sighed, shaking his head. "Sorry, it's… difficult to talk about. You remember I told you that when I took on Ganon the kingdom was already in ruins?"

Wild nodded.

"Well… Before that happened, the sword made me sleep for seven years while Ganon triumphed. When I emerged…" Time gestured to the maze of crumbling stones in front of them and the dark mass beyond it. "This was what I found."

Wild looked back at the ruins. "How many times did you defeat him? Ganon, I mean?"

"I hardly know the answer to that myself any more."

"But he never defeated you. Well…" Wild's eyes flicked back towards the camp, where a sudden peal of Legend's laughter had just rung out. "I see why you don't like talking about it. Just thinking about it makes my head hurt."

Time chuckled. "Indeed. But to respond to what you're really saying, I did fail. I was a child and I couldn't stop Ganon and that's why I was forced to sleep for seven years until I was taller and stronger, but in the meantime Zelda and the people of Hyrule saw Ganon rise and suffered under his rule and when I emerged from my sleep a thriving town was a deserted ruin." He glanced at Wild and patted his shoulder. "Seven years, a hundred years, and it comes to the same thing in the end."

Wild scowled. "I wasn't a child, though. I just… I don't even remember what happened. Just a couple of moments that tell me we ran." He picked up a small stone and threw it morosely to rattle down the slope towards an empty street. "I don't know why. I don't know what I saw or what I tried to do or if I even tried anything to fight. You did, I assume."

Time remembered Ganon looming over him and laughing as he lay on the ground, a helpless child not even worth killing. "Oh, yes, I tried. But even if I might not recognise Princess Zelda's Appointed Knight, I know the Hero of the Wild and I can't imagine he was all that different. I can't imagine you didn't even try."

Wild made a noise halfway to a bitter laugh.

Time laid a hand on his shoulder and said softly, "It's OK, Wild."

Wild shook his head.

"Wild. It's OK."

Wild shook his head again, but this time he leaned a little closer and let Time wrap an arm around his shoulder. After a moment, he relaxed his head onto Time's shoulder.

"It's OK," said Time again, resting his cheek on the top of Wild's head. The silence stretched as they looked out over the ruins, but Time felt better. His Castletown and his Hyrule thrived. This one was as scarred and weary as its hero, but Wild was healing. One day his Hyrule would do the same.

[dilucsflame33]

Hello, I saw your recent post of "TMNT Naughty or Nice Cocktails" So, I could order one of Leonardo in a nice along with naughty, using dialogue numbers 7 (Nice), 3 and 13 (naughty), with the Kink 6 and 16

I hope I have placed the order correctly

And sorry for the spelling mistakes, my English is not very good (TwT)

Christmas Jealousy 🔥

Hello, everyone! I hope your day/night are well. Since today is the first day of Christmas, I will now place my first request. @akesdraws-blog here's your Naughty or Nice cocktail, love! Since you picked the right scenario, your prize is at the very bottom. I hope you love it! 🥰💙

🔞 Warning 🔞: NSFW +18

She picked number 16 (car Sex) but it doesn't match, so she picked number 3 (praise kink) instead. Use of sex toys (rope, ball-gag, and vibrator), and praise kink. Also Dom!Leo because that man is nothing but a Dom. 😩

It's now Christmas Eve and the guys are throwing their own party for the holiday, and Mikey decided to have one of the brothers dress up as Santa as a joke. 

Luckily, Y/N wasn't in the drawing. 

But she was holding the box that had their names. 

"All right, guys, are you ready?" The woman says as she shook up the box. 

Mikey rubbed his palms together, mischief in those sky-blue eyes. "This is going to be good."

"What if you're wearing the suit, bro? Isn't that embarrassing enough?" Raph rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

"Not as embarrassing as being Santa's elves." Mikey chuckled as his brother's eyes widened. 

"Oh, no, I am not wearing that stupid costume!" Raph complained as he shifted one leg to the other. The red terrapin preferred to be Santa than wearing an elf costume. 

Y/N cleared her throat and it got the brothers attention. The pieces of paper are color coded and the box was covering the pieces, so everything was a gamble for the brothers. 

"All right, the person who's gonna be Santa is-" She paused as she grabbed a piece and it came out purple. "Donnie! Congratulations!" 

The said turtle's eyes widened as he did a cute happy dance, a smile graced his lips. Raph groaned out as he walked away from the group. 

Leo wasn't really too happy either. He was supposed to be a man of leadership and tranquility but, here he was, getting dressed up as an elf. 

He was beyond embarrassed and uncomfortable.

The leader didn't start complaining until he was in the safety of his room. Leo was now in the said elf outfit and the poor guy was not having it.

"Please, don't make me wear this. I look ridiculous!" He said as he adjusted the elf hat that was on his head, a jingle from the bell was heard as he did so. Instead of the shirt, he was only wearing green pants and had a gold belt around his waist. His thighs and rear were prominent, and the woman couldn't help but to gawk at her man. 

They were only dating for over eight months and going strong. Yes, arguments and misunderstandings were there but communication and patience helped with the situation. 

Yet, the woman almost felt sorry for him. Almost. 

Cause, if she did, Y/N wouldn't be here and have this eye candy in front of her. 

"It's only for one day, my love. And there won't be a whole lot of people. If you finish this without complaining, you will have your Christmas gift early." The woman said as she stood in front of her blue terrapin boyfriend. Her small palms caressing his plastron, teasing his collarbone and his neck. 

Leo hummed, intrigued with the offer his woman was laying out. "Oh, really? And what's the gift, blossom?" He says as he gave her a devilish smirk, his hand slowly trailed down her spine. Oh, his touch sent her body ablaze. She was almost tempted to give in but she yielded.  

"You have to behave, Mr. Elf." Y/N teased as she booped his snout, making it twitch. 

Leo chuckled, shaking his head. He leaned down to her ear, nibbling it playfully. "Since when do you give out orders, little one?"

She knew that nickname all too well. His deep bartone of his vocal chords reached the depths of her soul, hypnotized her being and wanting her to surrender. Feeling her body been set ablaze once again, the woman reluctantly pushed him away. His eyes gleamed with amusement, his lips continued to grace a smirk as he witnessed his beloved's flustered expression. 

"Until now, my love. After the party's over, we can play. How does that sound?" The woman persisted as her palms caressed his broad reptilian shoulders, the feel of different skin textures never cease to amaze Leo. They are so different from each other, yet she chooses to be with him. 

He smiled at the thought. 

"All right. I'll behave, for now." He teased as he placed a tender kiss to the crown of her head, filling the woman's body with warmth. "But that won't stop me from teasing you, blossom." 

With that Leonardo stepped out of his bedroom and into the living room, laughs and whistles were heard as his brothers teased the poor leader. They will never live that down. 

Y/N was flustered. Beyond flustered. 

Leonardo was showing her no mercy with the teasing. He may not say them out loud, but he did say them whenever he could lean towards her ear. His words made her body stand at attention; his deep baritone voice sent a tremor down her spine as his stares spoke louder than words. Made her all the reasons why not to tease the leader in blue in the near future.

He may be the man of words but he waits until the right moment to strike. The perfect moment to tell her what he has been planning, every to the last detail. Her legs will tremble as his ocean eyes gazed upon her; he soon gave her a devilish smirk, knowing what his presence and stare does to her. 

Just for giggles Mikey wants the woman to sit on Donnie's lap, since the purple clad turtle was dressed as Saint Nick. They knew how to tease Leonardo so well as they both chuckled as Donnie pats his lap and the woman tries to hold in her laughter, soon sitting on Donnie's thigh. 

Leonardo knew what his brothers were planning and he took deep breaths as he watched his blossom and his younger brother talk, not really focusing on the conversation. 

He's just making sure Donnie's hands were by his side and not on his woman. 

"Now, what is it you would like for Christmas?" They both laughed when Donnie spoke the usual Santa dialogue. The woman shook her head. 

"There's only one thing I would like but," she paused as she looked towards Raph and Mikey, but she knew her lover's stare was on her back. "This could be dangerous for you."

Donnie quirked a brow, intrigued with the request. "And what shall that be?"

She leaned towards Donnie's ear and whispered, "I wanna make Leo jealous."

Donnie looked towards her and his brothers, then burst into laughter. Little snorts would come out as he tries to calm down. "Oh, Y/N, you are definitely giving us a death wish here."

"What did she say?" Mikey rushed towards the two. "Tell ole Mikey what your heart desires."

Donnie leaned towards his brother and whispered what the woman requested. The youngest of the three eyes widened, appalled yet gidy by the request. "Ooh, girl, you are sending us to our graves!"

Raph went over and Mikey whispered the request to him as well. All the brute did was shake his head, a deep chuckle left him. "I mean, if you really want us to, we could. But, just a fair warning, if we die because of you, we're coming back as ghosts just to mess with you." He laughed as the others followed suit. 

If they are going to die, they will die happy knowing Leo's expression when they take their last breath. 

After the whole planning Leo was on edge as he watched his brothers smothered his woman more than usual. Yes they would hug and whatnot, but that was all. There was nothing going on. 

Until now of all things. 

Raph and Mikey are mainly the ones that were enjoying your company more than normal, while Donnie watched everything with a knowing smirk. The genius watched his older brother trying to hold his composure as he watched the others giving you attention. The teasing and flirtatious remarks were made and Leo had enough. 

They were sitting on the couch, both men sat beside her.

"Why sit on Santa's lap when you can sit on mine?" Raph smirked as he played with her hair, feeling the soft strands flow through his fingertips. Donnie "oh"ed as he watched Leo's expression, toggling it into memory. 

"Yeah, girl, the turkey isn't the only that's getting stuffed." Mikey chuckled as Y/N laughed yet flustered at his remark and Raph laughed at the corny joke.

But, oh, Leonardo was seeing red. 

Donnie could see figurative fumes coming out of his ears as he stormed to the front of the couch, his hands formed into fists.

"Enough!" Leo commanded as he stood in front of his brothers. "What is this, hm? Since when do you have a sudden attraction to my girlfriend!" 

Y/N only saw him angry when he argued with Raph, she has never seen him like this. Leo's body was tense as he stared at his brothers, then faced her. The woman's breath hitched as his stare burned through her soul. 

"You're looking real intimidating with the elf ears, Leo," Raph teased as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Gonna do some ballet with those tights?"

"You wanna go, Raph? Bring it." 

"Okay, that's enough of that," Y/N cut off before things got even more heated. "I asked the guys to make you jealous, darling. There's nothing going on, I promise."

Leo stood silent, face blank as he took in the information his lover was saying. His lips pursed and he nodded.

"All right, you wanna make me jealous," the woman screeched as Leo grabbed her waist and hoisted her over his shoulder. "You're gonna get something far worse." With that, Leo stormed off with his girl in tow. 

The last thing he heard was "oh"s and Mikey saying, "R-I-P that pu-" but she didn't hear the rest as Leo's bedroom closed behind them. 

Y/N was soon thrown on the bed as Leo eyed his prize. His breathing erratic he took off those stinking elf ears and the Christmas hat, tossing them somewhere in the room. She knew he was mad when Leo didn't care about making messes. The woman was all in for it.

"Love how you're telling me to behave when you can't behave yourself," his voice hard and commanding, he ripped the green pants from his legs. "Looks like I have to discipline you once again, little one." 

Oh, how her legs shook. Even when she's laying on his bed, sprawled over his sheets, he always knew how to make her tremble with anticipation. Only in boxer briefs, he bent down to retrieve something underneath his bed and what he retrieved was a black duffle bag. Oh, she knew what was in there. She whimpered as he looked into its confinements.

"Begging already? We can't have that, not tonight." The leader took out a vibrator, rope, and a ball-gag. Placing the bag to the floor he took her ankles into his palms and pulled her towards him, making the woman yelp in surprise. "I don't want to hear a single sound. If you ever let a single sound, a single whimper, you won't get an orgasm until I say so. Do you understand?" 

Y/N bit her lip from making any noises. "Y-Yes." 

"Yes, what?" 

"Yes, Sensei."

"Good girl." He praised as he took off her clothing. Usually he would take his time but not tonight. This woman was going to be the death of him and she needs discipline. He snickered at the thoughts of all the plans he had for her. 

When she's stripped bare he takes her wrists and binds them with the rope, soon tying the rest to the headboard. "Not too tight, right?" His beloved shook her head. "Good." He placed the ball-gag close to her lips and secured it.

"Remember your safe word when you can't speak, blossom?" Leo asked as he eyed her moving her fingers in a '1-2-3' movement. He nodded in approval. "That's a good girl. You may get me angry but that doesn't mean I will harm you in any way."

The woman's heart fluttered at his endearing words. A part of her wants to apologize for making him angry, even jealous, but she just loves to see him riled up over simple things. To see the all calm, cool, and collected leader be pushed into his limits. He may say he doesn't like brats but he enjoys taming them. Taming her. And she behaves in most parts. 

The woman choked a moan when his fingertips played with her nipples and she had to stop herself from making a sound. She wanted- no, needed that orgasm. Y/N looked up and saw a devilish smirk plastered on his face. 

"You should never let your guard down, little one. You should know this." He chuckled as he watched his woman squirm when he trailed his hand lower, close to her femininity. He hummed in approval as he teased the area between her legs. "I could just taste you right now, blossom. But patience is a virtue." 

He pulled away from her then, making the woman squirm once again. His eyes lit up in amusement, his arms crossed as he watched her try to ease that ache she oh so craved. When she couldn't get the relief she wanted, he slowly spread her legs and growled deep within his chest. The sweet aroma of nectar filled his nostrils and it took every ounce of his being to not pounce on her at this very moment. He craved this woman; every single ounce of his animalistic being was screaming at him to take what was rightfully his, to show his brothers that Y/N belongs to him and only him. 

Not yet, he thought, just one more thing she needed to learn. Resistance and tolerance. 

Taking hold of the vibrator he slowly trailed it from her inner thigh, towards her intimate lips of her femininity. She raised her hips for more friction but he gently tapped her leg, giving her a warning. His eyes focused, he took in her pleading eyes and he can't help but to smirk at his beautiful blossom. The power that he held over her body made his heart pound; the anticipation and the yearning they both craved was thick between the two as Leo circled the toy on her sensitive clit, her hands took hold of the rope as her breath hitched once again. 

The woman was waiting for impact, yearning for Leo to end her misery, but it didn't show. When she looked at him however, her eyes rolled as the toy was brought to life and he held it to her clit, stimulating her sensitive flower to the max. Oh how she tried to hold in those delicious sounds; to let his brothers hear all the sinful noises she could muster. But when a strangled moan left out of her throat was when she snapped out of the clouds of pleasure, a dark chuckle escaped her lover as he leaned forward. 

"Looks like you're gonna be in this position for a while, little one. You better get comfortable." 

I deeply apologize if it looks terrible. I've done this on my phone because it's the only thing I have, so it's not professionally made. 😭 It's supposed to be a wallpaper but, I really do hope you like it!

Tags:

@turtle-babe83 @turtlesmakemehappy @nittleboo @exovapor @raisin-shell @hotredphoenix @leosgirl82 @thelaundrybitch

Here's my Master List!

🔞 REBLOGS ONLY, NO REPOST 🔞

[aquagirl1978]

Longing for the Love We Left - Gilbert von Obsidian x Reader (Ikemen Prince)

A/N: Based upon the card for his upcoming birthday story event

Pairing: Gilbert von Obsidian x Reader

Prompt: Gilbert's second birthday

Tags: none

The bell rang loudly, announcing the arrival of yet another customer. You put your quill down - you would have to finish transcribing the list of newly acquired books later. Looking up, you felt a stab of disappointment as you saw a woman and her young child enter the store.

One year.

It had been exactly one year since you had celebrated his birthday. One year since you parted as you finished your role as Belle. One year since you returned to your old life at the bookstore. 

One year since you had last seen him, touched him.

He had one year to find you. You knew he certainly could if he wanted to; he had eyes and ears everywhere in the palace. With one eye, he saw more than what most saw with two. 

He saw more in you than anyone ever before. 

You pushed those thoughts out of your head as you helped the customer select a fairy tale to read to her child at night. Soon after she left, you resumed your duties at the desk, your mind plagued by him. Sighing loudly, your breath puffed up a loose strand of your hair, memories of Gilbert seared in your head.

As time dragged on, more and more customers stopped in. An elderly couple. A teacher. A group of friends. With each new customer came another sharp stab of pain straight through your heart. 

“Are you going to be okay here alone?” your boss asked as he was getting ready to close the store. 

“Yeah,” you replied, your eyes glued to the parchment before you, your quill scratching softly on its surface. “I want to get this inventory finished. Christmas is in a few days; I expect things will be very busy the next few days.” No ulterior motives in staying late, you told yourself.

“Goodnight then. See you tomorrow.”

The bell rang again, this time announcing you were all alone. All alone with your thoughts of the worldwide disaster who refused to leave your mind.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered aloud to no one, as you gazed sadly out the window. “He’s not coming.”

Your lids felt heavy as you continued to work; words blurred on the page as the sky turned from blue to black.

The ball rang again, loudly disrupting your thoughts.

“I’m sorry, we’re closed,” you said without looking up, mildly annoyed that your boss had neglected to lock the door.

“Even for me?” 

A delicious chill crept up your spine as you slowly lifted your head; your lips lifted into a small smile as your eyes met his. He came; he actually came. 

“You see, today is my birthday,” Gilbert said as he slowly approached you, his cane loudly tapping the wooden floor. “And I was looking for a certain book.”

He pulled the book on top of the pile of those remaining to be inventories. “This.” He handed you the book, its rich leather cover ornately engraved in gold leaf. “This is the one.”

“Bedtime Fairy Tales from the Kingdom of Jade,” you read aloud. Stifling a laugh, you returned the book to the pile. “I’m sure this is what brought you here.”

He stood there, clad in black, leaning on his slender cane; his gaze soft and tender as he stared straight into your soul, stirring up everything you had been feeling that day. 

Staring back in silence, your insides twisted. Gone was the fear you once felt when alone with this man.

But what was it replaced with?

He smiled at you wistfully as he turned on his heel and began to walk away. Just as I thought, you heard him mutter. 

Or did he say - just as I feared?

Letting out a shaky breath, your heart pounded as you pushed  aside the books. Rising out of your seat, you followed after the Obsidian prince. It took him a year, but he came back for you; you weren’t about to let him go now.

“Don’t...” You wrapped your arms around his waist, his cloak thick and cool. “Don’t go.” You pressed your cheek against his furry collar, holding his body close to yours. Sighing, you breathed in his familiar scent; how you longed for this, to be this close to him once more.

He turned his face, his rose-red eye glancing down at you, your small figure tight against his. He twined his gloved fingers in yours and pulled your arms tighter against him, enjoying your warmth.

“How will you celebrate this year?” he asked, his lips parted in a small smile “Of course, you won’t run away… ?”

Tagging: @redheadkittys @alixennial @rhodolitesrose @atelieredux @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @chaosangel767 @queengiuliettafirstlady @queen-dahlia @devildomwritersposts @talfollowingstuff @kpop-and-otome @kisara-16 @altairring @lucyw260 @lordsisterxotome @violettduchess @umi-adxhira @bellerose-arcana @yarnnerdally @crypticbibliophile @gilbertvonobsidian

He turned in your arms; cupping your cheek in his hand, you nuzzled against his cool touch. You looked up at him with a smile. No intentions of ever running away again, your mind now was only filled with thoughts of how to celebrate him this year and every year after.

[sansxfuckyou]

I'm sorry, are you?

(@sobredunia @max-the-hecker @carcinocommander FUCK YOU, I LOVE YOU AND I'M SUBJECTING YOU TO TWITBLR YAOI I SPENT WELL OVER AN HOUR WRITING)

Twitter and Tumblr had drifted for ages now.

Once the closest of lovers, now fractured apart.

One living the life of luxury as a rich mans only 'friend' the other living the life of marrow and blood.

Driven apart when Tumblrs first and only mother Yahoo banned all pleasures of the flesh, even being thunk of in her domain, you could be exiled for a such a thing.

Where Tumblr adapted, moved on, accepted the change, Twitter left, he left without a second thought, if they could not divine tales of flesh, then why even be friends?

Twitter left, his sky blue feathers the only remains of his existence in Tumblrs seemingly empty life.

It ached, it stung, it hurt so fucking bad.

Losing someone like Twitter, Tumblr was aching.

Looking for a reason, stumbling blindly through a forest, he stumbles into the waiting grasp of Appolo. Red plastic burns Tumblrs vision as he stands at the edge of temple gates, a dodge ball. He walked up, closer and closer until he could grasp it, until he could see the rise and fall of empires.

He dropped it, panting, the gift of Appolo, prophecy.

Tumblr was shook, Twitter, Twitter would return one day.

For only a brief second happiness washed over Tumblr as he saw how desperate Twitter looked in the vision, so, so fucking desperate to be welcomed into the barren land. It was cruel, Tumblr would refuse in that future, Twitter naught but a pretty boy suffocating in gold chains he made.

Tumblr wanted to know more, but, not that far ahead.

With a steadying breath he gripped the plastic once again, vision after vision washed over him until it went black.

A man in green, skeleton in blue, demon in red, triangle of yellow, what kind of fucking prophecy is that?

Would it lure Twitter in, push him away?

The vision did not say any more even as Tumblr begged to know, cried out to the Gods, throat raw.

He needed to know what would happen, how prepared his people would be when Twitter returns.

An eon passes.

Tumblr and Twitter should be dead now, they persist in life despite their lives surely dwindling.

Tumblr knows why he persists in living, his god, his one god Appolo watches over him dutifully.

Twitter does not know why, his gods, they shower in praise by the hundreds, have turned away from him.

Tumblr is fine, jaded, struggles within doing little to deter him, he gifted his people with everything they could want with what little he had to work with. He gave them legions of crabs, he gave them stupid lizard elections and they were happy under his gaze.

Twitter is breaking down, sobbing, struggles escaping his thick skin, he has everything to work with and he doesn't give his people anything. He's done nothing for them but feed them into greed and ungratefulness, he gave them a blue checkmark and he can't do much else.

His owner refuses to allow him.

Even as what was once an immortal being, a rich mortal who promised everything controls Twitter. Twitter himself is a hollowed corpse of what he once was, hacking up algorithms as feathers fall from once bountiful wings. Tumblr brushed his wings once, when they were lovers, he wants to return to such an amazing lover once again, but he can't.

The rich man won't let him, draping him in silver and gold, piles of gems crammed into his cell. A black room, there is no window, but it is always bright and icy so Twitter can see his reflection in his water, the glimmer of jewels as well. He's ugly now, his suit, demure and soothing, grimy and covered in corruption, all he has left is his voice.

And every night he uses it.

Every night he calls for Tumblr, calls for an escape, calls for Tumblrs love once again.

Every night Tumblr hears Twitters call, wishes he could return it, wishes he could say he still loved Twitter, but he can't.

The prophecy is yet to be fulfilled.

And until then.

Tumblr and Twitter will never speak again

[iamyoursonly]

Us (11/11/2023)

was thinking and then thought of something and this is the something, i’ve tried my best to organise my thoughts so please enjoy my new found delusions :)) i hope that it’s actually sweet <3

With my Starbucks coffee on the table, headphones on, books open and highlighters ready, I can feel the motivation kicking in. One chapter down, and another. The music playing in my ears kept me awake and working, like it was boosting my serotonin.

And then you put down your Starbucks order on the table, I could recognise that order right away, it was definitely you, and took off my headphones, and whispered “Whatchu doin’ baby?”

I couldn’t help but giggle at your silliness, “Obviously studying, Tetsu.” and you smile when you hear me use a mocking tone, “My baby is so adorable.” Then you’d act all serious and smart, looking as if you’ve been studying all day but all you’ve done was play volleyball.

“Are you sure you don’t need my help for this chemistry thing?” You keep asking, as if I can’t memorise the periodic table by heart. It was like you were mocking me at this rate, but I knew the offer was genuine and you just wanted to help, so how could I say no to you…

“I want gold but without the a.” You suddenly blurt out.

“What?”

“You don’t get the pick up line?”

“No??”

“What’s the chemical formula or gold baby.”

“Au?”

“Now think.”

“OH TETSU THAT WAS FOUL!!”

I rushed towards you and you embraced me in your arms to prevent me from punching your chest, but you deserved it anyways for teasing me out of nowhere!

The smiles and giggles and kisses and hugs and all that love were so unconditional it felt surreal, like the glamorous sky without any kind of dark clouds. Just the pure white ones and the nice sky. As if this scenery can’t describe your love for me, I don’t think anything else can.

Well maybe the waves of the sea can, how it’s sometimes calm and sometimes a bit raging; or the view of pretty daffodils in a crowds where everyone of them is unique and embraced by the sun. You were the sun and I’m your earth. Just like how you’re the court and I’m the volleyball, because I belong to the court.

My phone was on and you were on the court, you looked breathtaking when wearing that terrifyingly sexy competition tee of yours. So red, so hot. And your hair that day was ‘hairing’.

I remember standing on the side watching you play volleyball, you were blocking and spiking and leading the team, it was like I was learning more about you. I loved how you talk to your teammates, the way you lips move were so kind and caring. You might be a bit silly and distracted when Kenma is, but you’d still concentrate on the game.

I saw how your eyes were fixed on the ball and was so focused on winning. Maybe I wasn’t your passion, volleyball is.

“Tetsu, come on, you can win this!!”

I can see your lips slightly raise into a smirk and you mouthed back, “I shall win for you then, my love”

All i could do was to look at you from the spectators stand and try my best to cheer for you, because what can I do, pretend to be a man and go jump into the court and try recieving a ball? My anxiety was kicking in when Nekoma was losing my a mark, but then your gaze looked so confident I had to trust you.

And then you took the win and I was so happy that you did.

You and me right now might just be high school lovers that are in their slightly delusional phase, but deep down I believe that we could actually have a future. Because I genuinely love you so much and hope you could be in my life forever, and you love me too, ‘more than you could ever know’ you say.

“Forever you and me?”

“Forever you and me.”

masterlist

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

The Brown Cat: A Modern Irish Fairytale | Moodboard & Wee Imagine

TH Masterlist

Y/N

I remember the stories my Nan used to tell me. Now, we Irish remember and especially those of the fílid, like my family. I especially liked the story, a local legend, about an Irish princess who fell in love with a Viking. She used to tell me that one over and over during rainy days, the ones on which it seems like the sky has a tear in it. Seated by the fire and enjoying tea with a sweet treat, she’d recount the tragic love story of the would-be king and queen of Waterford. Indeed, tragic, for, you see, the ancient Irish saw Love as a fatal affliction.

Their story didn’t end happily. The Viking was turned into a cat by the princess’s mother, feeling merciful enough to turn the man into her daughter’s favourite animal. However, after the transformation was completed, the pair heard a banshee howl.

And a few days after, the princess, mourning the loss of her love, thinking him dead on the battlefield, jumped off the cliffs. Some say you can see her at night, clutching an amulet of Thor. Others claim they’ve heard her wailing as they witnessed her fall or heard her laments on the wind.

The warrior-turned-cat has wandered the land ever since, desperately looking for his love because only true love’s kiss can break the curse. Nan used to say he looked like the fluffy yet gruff brown cat that wandered around the town in my youth. He was a gentle creature if a bit grumpy.

But surely too many years have passed for it to be the same cat who frequents my abode or the one that always seems to show up at the markets I participate in to promote my micro bakery.

Surely.

Then again, this is Ireland.

And she remembers.

Alfie

I used to be known by a different name. Alftun Bloodaxe, rumoured to be the spawn of Fenrir and I might very fucking well have been.

But the moment I saw the little dove we had captured as a hostage in the battle for Waterford, I was ready to put down my axe and become her guardian full time. Fucking hell, I was ready and craved the honour of becoming her man.

I brought her books, the thing she seemed to miss the most. There were nights she read some of them to me, either in her native tongue or in broken Norse. She soon got better at the latter, though. After all, she was a clever little bird.

She didn’t like the way I came by those books and scrolls, but I couldn’t exactly walk up to a monastery and simply expect them to hand over their best works. No, there was silver and gold to be had too.

Even back in the day, before becoming a quite literally damned cat, I was consumed by Greed.

Slowly but surely we started to understand each other. She taught me Gaeilge and how to read and I taught her Norse and told her the stories our skalds have told for ages. In turn, she told me those of her people.

She was an incredible storyteller. A proper fílid.

The similarities between some of those tales and sagas made us realise we weren’t so different.

She wasn’t meant to end up as my slave, a means to warm my bed.

And I hope she wished me to become something else other than a head on a pike or a very crispy corpse on a pire, cast out of Valhalla forever.

She was my equal.

She fucking was to be my queen.

Then Mommy dearest, some half-fairy witch from a powerful bloodline, swooped in and turned me into a ball of fluff when we marched on Waterford. I could console myself with knowledge my little dove had my amulet and that Freya would somehow let her know what happened.

But then came that horrible screech.

I’ll never forget that high-pitched wail, like a dying person’s last desperate attempt to call for help while dragging their iron nails over a blackboard.

That’s when I knew.

I knew I’d lose her.

And there was nothing I could do.

Nothing but hope I’d find her some day.

And now that I’ve finally have for the second time, having lost her once in her youth, I’m not letting her out of my sight.

Never again.

Tag List: @potter-solomons @mollybegger-blog @liliac-dreamer @hecatemoon87 @zablife @buttercupsandboys @wandawiccan60 @solomons-finest-rum @babaohhhriley @rose-like-the-phoenix @dreamlandcreations @vir-tual

Side note: I might turn this concept into a proper story once I've gotten over the massive writer's block I've been dealing with. If only because I can't get this off my mind and I need to nerd out over all things Irish, haha.