#also his form is terrible with holding a bow

[ph4ngz]

I’m so obsessed with your lust quirk fics they’re so good 😮‍💨 could you do one w todoroki?

It's purring. (This came straight out of my pussy I won't even sugarcoat it, literally one of the horniest experiences of my life)

Lust quirk w/ Shoto!

↑ Contains; ProHero!Shoto x fem!reader, aphrodisiac themes, begging, choking (hardly), no condom, no prep, reader is a terrible neighbour, shamelessly desperate Shoto :D

4.5k+

/-/-/-/

An oddly patterned series of knocks upon your apartment's front door disturbs you from your nightly routine and you sigh, irritated due to the timing, the fact that you were halfway through changing into your sleepwear, and finally due to the fact that you'd just made sure every light was out only to now turn them back on again.

"Oh, what the hell..."

There's no way you can answer the door right now! You look down at your bare legs. Hell no, even if you weren't clad in only panties and a shirt, you still didn't have any makeup on. Before you can shrug it off and continue changing, pretend you're not home and snuggle up in your fresh sheets, another string of knocks sound. Somehow, they seem a little more desperate than before?

"Ugh, hold on, jeez." you complain to yourself whilst flinging your pyjama bottoms to the floor agitatedly, then push your oversized T-shirt down to cover your exposed lower half and expertly navigate your way through the dark, too stubborn to flick any switches and help yourself. Hopefully this is just a package being delivered?

The moment you unlock and pull back the door, concern draws itself upon your features.

"Todoroki?"

The slumped figure before you, partially blocking the yellowish lighting from out in the hallway, straightens almost immediately at the sound of his name being called as if he hadn't knocked in the first place, eyes shaded by a hooded, lustful gaze directed your way. Something's wrong, obviously. Your friend and coworker is usually so calm and composed.

Your worried stare slowly travels downward and holy shit he’s unbuttoning his shirt. You can see his abs. His defined, beautiful abs. The ones that prove the strength he worked so hard to obtain during his hero training. Wait, he’s not injured is he…?

"A-Are you hurt?" You blurt out, training your eyes anywhere else but his body. Man, this feels illegal.

Is he HURT? Why would he come to you and not the hospital anyway!?

"Y/n-" the hero begins, pausing once he clocks your current attire. Todoroki's eyebrows bow all of a sudden and he practically collapses against the door frame, an arm coming up to shield his forehead as his cheeks puff out with a long, uncontrolled exhale.

Your mouth opens, but you doubt you'd be able to correctly respond to the second bout of hurried words currently falling from his own, so you keep it closed tightly.

"Oh, you look so fucking hot okay—" He breathes out, closing his bicolour eyes. The unexpected statement, although a dizzying compliment to yourself, seems as though it's a problem for him. You don’t miss the way his other hand starts to wave his shirt back and forth from his chest, using it as a makeshift fan.

Also, you'd been ready for bed not even five minutes ago, bare faced and tired as all hell, in what world would your appearance be considered as 'hot'!? Alright, this is seriously confusing. And you're stood here in your underwear! ... In front of... Hah, oh.

Blushing harder than a drunken man, you take it upon yourself to grab a flustered Todoroki's wrist and drag him into your dark apartment, shutting the front door so that the both of your forms are visible in the moonlight filtering through a large window only, it's pearly glow illuminating each and every one of your features.

Of course, he didn't let that happen without a "fuck, don't- don't grab me like that I-", but that doesn't mean anything serious, right?

Whipping your head around to face the poor guy, you raise your voice a little as you ask: "Okay, calm down. Stop stuttering for a sec, can you take your time and tell me what's wrong?"

Only a frustrated groan can be heard in return.

Then, out of nowhere, his mouth is forced onto your own and the mix between a pleased moan and a confused yelp that escapes you is something to be embarrassed about. Your face feels as if it's melting, the way his tall frame bends to reach you slightly and his newfound grip on your waist overheating you. You don't have time to decide whether or not you should kiss back as Todoroki soon separates himself and cuts your next hurried words off.

"Should we be doing thi—"

"I need you, I need you, it's so,"

His pleading stops to then continue into the crook of your neck, which you definitely did not give him access to. The tingling sensation his heavy hands leave behind as they're rubbing up and down over your hips sends you to heaven and back.

"So frustrating... I know we're friends and I really hate myself for ruining us, I swear, I'll never speak to you again Y/n, just please touch me. Anywhere you want." Todoroki's hushed, whiney voice alone is enough to make you moan, in fact it does. The hero's thick fingers slide beneath the handles of your panties, rolling them down on both sides with the movement for easy removal if you let him.

"You're moaning now oh fuck, nngh, I can't take this much longer. It hurts."

The words vibrate over your neck and he soon begins to leave openmouthed kisses on the heated skin, breathing heavier than ever. God, it feels so good to hear him beg for you, to experience everything you've ever wanted. But should you be feeling this right now? You've heard rumours of a certain "Lust Villain" around your agency enough times, and there's no denying their existence after what's just happened.

You begin to interrogate the derailed hero, removing him from you when you speak.

“Have you fought any villains today?”

Your fingers are suddenly in Todoroki’s two-tone hair, making it messier than it was before. He hums a low mmph and tries his best to give you an answer.

“I was- I have. They shot me with something,”

You can’t imagine how surprised you look as his eager hands find your asscheeks, ashamed of the slutty moans that flow straight from your chest.

“You said, hah, that you were in pain yeah?”

He squeezes, harshly. Gritting your teeth in order to control your voice, you force yourself to focus on his instead. It’s not until the texture of his jeans and the cold metal zip tickles your palm do you notice that he hasn’t spoken until now.

Holy shit, when did he take your hand?

“Right here, you can feel how hard I am, right?” Todoroki presses his forehead to yours, his body heat immediately making itself apparent on your skin.

He’s pushing your hand harder against his crotch, eyes closed whilst his other free hand is still cupping the soft flesh right underneath your ass. You can make out the distinct outline of his cock even through the thick denim covering, restricting it.

It’s instant relief when you dare to give an experimental rub with the heel of your palm, and the hero makes it very clear.

“Ah~” He whines deeply, feeling every drop of precum soak and stain his underwear.

The debauched sound causes your walls to clench straight away, and you give not even a second thought about helping him out. Wow, your resolve totally just threw itself out of the window.

Todoroki lets you drag him by the arm once again, this time with your bedroom in mind, although he doesn’t wait to cage your smaller form between himself and the kitchen counter. His hips are already nudging into your ass before you know it, and all you can do is lean forward over the solid marble and hide your flushed face. Then, he snakes his muscular arms around your waist, holding you closer with every thrust.

This is getting you so wet, pussy slicked up by your arousal and it hasn’t even been touched yet. His restrained dick is rock hard against you, twitching and jolting under his clothes.

The heat of your cheeks must be making your eyes water, because it’s getting increasingly difficult to see through the gaps of your fingers each time he occasionally grabs your hips to slam them back into his.

“Shiiiiit,”

Your glossy eyes widen a fraction at the aggressive growl emitting from behind you. He’s trying to hold back, you can tell.

Soft ah’s and oh’s disrupt the midnight silence, both of you unable to contain them. Until—

“Ohhhhh God… M' so sorry, I can’t wait any longer, you’re on the pill right?”

You respond with a cute, pathetic sniffle and a nod, still covering your face. The curve of your back arching even more once he stops moving, the lack of friction making you feel empty.

Without a single word, Todoroki swiftly tugs your panties down halfway and you cross your arms over the counter to nestle your head even lower. It’s awfully silent other than his laboured breathing and the jingle of his belt being unbuckled. The suspense is fucking killing you.

Faster and faster, he’s fucking his large hand to his current view: you, legs shaking and back arched, covered tits smushed into the cold marble. His brainwashed mind travels from ‘how far can her legs spread’ to ‘sliding along the counter must’ve been making her nipples so hard’. A slight glint of moonlight reflecting off of your leaking cunt catches his attention.

“Uhhhhh…” Drawing out his delicious moan caused by the sight, his upper body almost collapses atop of yours, but luckily he catches himself on the counter.

You jump when his middle finger unexpectedly parts your lower lips by dragging a quick line between them, halfheartedly checking in case you’re not lubricated enough as if you aren’t already drenched. Your clit pulses due to the fleeting stimulation, your little hole practically dripping and his quivering mouth opens with a silent moan.

“How- How are you this wet?” Todoroki’s in disbelief as he studies the thick coating of your slick around his finger, but seemingly insatiable desire quickly overpowers it.

The desperate hero sucks off every trace of your juices and doesn’t even bother to engage in further foreplay, he wouldn’t be able to cope much longer. He knows he probably should’ve gone about this in a way that’s more comfortable for you, but thinking straight is something completely foreign in this moment. Anyways, he knows you’re wetter than ever for his twitching cock. You’ll take him just fine. Right?

With serious haste, Todoroki forces his aching cock past your pussy lips and the sudden sensation paralyses you. Shock, pain and ultimate pleasure contort your facial features in ways that you’ve never seen, nor anybody else until now.

“Sh-Shoto—” you muffle loudly into the back of your forearm, inwardly panicking about your legs not being able to stay up for much longer. Todoroki’s hand frantically searches for your neck whilst he continues to push his throbbing dick inside of you. And when he finally can grab ahold of your throat, he lifts up your head to cover your mouth with his other hand.

From beside your head, he’s observing the debauched expressions that play out on your cute little face, tempting him to fuck you senseless like he currently has a choice. His palms are oddly completely different temperatures against your damp skin, definitely a side effect of his quirk. The hold around your neck is colder but isn’t uncomfortable at all, you find that the lack of air reaching your lungs is numbing the pain rippling from your core.

“So, tight, o-oh my god,” the hero groans between rapid breaths, pausing his sentence whenever your warm pussy squeezes around his pink tip too much. The further he manages to reach within your fucking guts with his long cock, the more frequent and harder his tiny thrusts are getting.

The tearing pain is starting to subside for now, your walls finally getting acquainted with his size. That is until his length enters areas totally unknown to even yourself. Your watery eyes clench shut immediately. Todoroki releases your throat as a would-be strained, guttural moan simultaneously rips from your chest, the lack of restriction from his grip causing the noise to increase in volume and heartiness.

“nnnnNGHAH!” The echoing sound is hardly muted by his palm, even when he tightens it against your plump lips halfway through. He may be completely under the influence of a lust quirk, but that doesn’t mean Todoroki’s forgotten what time of night it is. Nor about the group of people he can hear in the next apartment over.

Suddenly, he’s completely stilled behind your weak, shivering form. It takes a few seconds for you to notice that he’s stilled your body too. His previous grasp on your neck seems to have situated itself within your tangled hair, big clenched fist having yanked on a handful to steady your movements. Typical late night city ambiance and laboured, heavy inhales and exhales through your noses are the only things audible to you.

You feel the hard throbbing and twitching of his dick everywhere in your lower half during this bout of silence, the heavy pressure of it leaning into your clenching walls almost unbearable. The way he’s keeping his hips pressed to your bare asscheeks with so much strength. And how his chin is nearly resting on your shoulder, shaky fingers gripping the furthest edge of the counter just proving his intimidating size. You need him to move. Surely he must be dying to, no? He said it was painful… so why isn’t he movi-

Your feeble attempts to wiggle around within the cage of Todoroki’s muscular arms instantly make every inch of his body coil impossibly tight around your own.

“Stop, gah! moving... Listen.” his usually soft, calming voice is rough and breathy next to your heated ear. A demand.

Trying your hardest to focus, you open your tired eyes and almost zone out whilst your ears are searching for whatever he wants them to hear. There’s nothing?! You’re about to speak up, about to beg him furiously just to fucking moveeeee when you finally catch on.

Only faint, yet still noticeable if you aren’t miles away in La La Fuck Me Land. Excited teenage chatter… clinking glass bottles and… oh great. Your new neighbour. You’d previously ran into her a few times on your way home, a quick wave and a smile and whatnot. Both of you were on good terms, but the thought of being known as that type of neighbour is scaring you. What if her friends already heard your embarrassing sex noises— what if they’re all laughing at you right now, not just some random joke or celebratory cheers?

“Tch- Tchodoroki, thatsh my new neighbour.” His hold on your mouth is so strong now that your words are close to being a string of incomprehensible hums.

“Look, I wanna move so, fucking, badly. It’s literally killing me to be inside you like this, when—”

You furrow your brows in confusion when the hero pauses out of nowhere, but they soon bow pathetically once you realise his prominent abs are tensing up against your back. Your heart flutters as Todoroki hurries to rid of his pesky shirt and throws it to the tiled floor. He then practically tries to rip your own shirt off before it reaches your head, urging to grant it the same fate strewn across the floor.

The tiny movements of his cock are gonna drive you nuts, you think.

“When I can feel you dripping down my thighs and you’re making me feel so fucking hot, I, just… If I move, Y/n, you’ve gotta promise me you’ll be quiet. I can’t risk being seen exiting your home after so much noise, promise me.”

Anything.

“Promisch.”

That’s all the hero needs you to say before driving his pelvis to thump against your asscheeks, his leaking cock hardly leaving your cunt just to be rammed back inside. You manage to suck in a panicked gasp through Todoroki’s thick fingers. He’s barely started and he’s already reaching places nobody else ever has. Just how big is he?

You’re almost embarrassed by the saliva that escapes your lips and wets his palm, but if anything, he’s fucking loving it. It’s only an incentive to fuck you so much faster, harder than before, just to keep you drooling for his dick like a thirsty slut.

The pace of his thrusts increases as well as the ear ringing slapping they bring with them. You can hear everything, everything him. Only Todoroki. Every obscene squelch coming from between your legs, every ragged, shaky breath he breathes, every word that just comes tumbling out of his mouth without warning.

“Ah, you’re so slutty for me— Mmmm, god I love it so much.”

For a second there you might’ve forgotten who’s cock you’re being pounded by if you didn’t have his voice memorised. You’ve never once heard the man say such dirty words, but damn if it isn’t the best thing you’ve ever listened to.

He’s practically jackhammering into your sloppy pussy now, set on achieving only one goal: to cum. He’s been trying to keep his aching pain on a low for too long, he needs to reach his high or else he might go insane.

If Todoroki wasn’t under the influence, you’d definitely have something to say about the lack of stimulation he’s providing you. But even then, with the way he’s repeatedly bullying your cervix to no avail, you’d hardly be able to form the right words to say. It’s something about the way he’s desperately pulling on the counter with all his strength just to fuck into you, you can’t think straight enough to worry about it chipping beneath his grip.

“Lower, lower,” the hero orders and bites the shell of your ear, and you’re trying to string a coherent sentence in your foggy mind to ask him what he means before the hand tangled in your hair manoeuvres your head so that your fucked out face is smushed into the cold marble. Your back arches as far as it can, making Todoroki comb a clammy hand through his usually neat fringe whilst forcing your back down with his elbow.

Somehow, this position allows his length to brush up and down the perfect spot inside, and you don’t think you can hold another noise in with the euphoric, tingling sensation crawling all the way along your spine.

Well, that “promisch” didn’t take much to break, did it?

“Fu-u-uck!” The sudden change of volume in the room startles him and even yourself, you had no idea that you could be so vocal. You gain the courage to make worried, guilty eye contact with the hero. Let’s just say, you can’t regret your choice.

Looking at him with his back straightened, alarmed and wide eyed like a deer in headlights, fluffy two-tone locks astray and messy, a sheen of sweat glazing his forehead and threatening to drip… pastel irises almost swallowed by his dilated pupils. Pretty… so fucking pretty. The sight alone causes your already constricting walls to clench even harder around Todoroki’s jolting cock, and he wonders how the fuck you haven’t pushed all of him out yet. He can’t move with your pussy gripping him like this, but it doesn’t seem like he has to try when you say:

“Todoro-ki, I wanna cum too, p-please don’t,”

You take a deep breath of air like his dick had been taking it away from you all the is time and continue.

“Tease me… like this…”

The newer tears forming in your eyes, paired with the words you say don’t give the man any time to gather self restraint, as he’s already began to cum.

His seed paints your insides icy white, the temperature of it driving you crazy. The expression he’s wearing whilst his hot cum fills you up is something you’ll never forget. Eyebrows dipping, nose slightly scrunched, eyes clamped shut and gorgeous lips trying and failing to conceal the moan behind them.

“Nngh~haha—” a breathless, overwhelmed laugh follows the unholy sound, the intensity of his orgasm being anything but funny.

You can’t see it, but you can feel all of it. There is already so much of him coating your sensitive core. You swear it’s starting to trickle down your thigh more and more each time Todoroki's hips continue to make contact with your lower half. Warm cum being pushed in and out of your tight hole, some of it being splattered upon your kitchen tiles by the strength of his thrusts. Even with hardly any room given between you both he's still managing to fuck into you so hard, with so much power. Hunger and desire.

His legs are trembling, as are yours. You can't imagine how exhausted he must feel after enduring the symptoms of that quirk he fell victim to, draining the last of his energy to chase the insane discomfort away. You almost forgot about his situation purely because he's making you feel so damn good. You know he's using your body as an outlet, you would be a fool for thinking there's more to these circumstances than there actually is.

“Nngh, you...okay?” you ask sweetly, trying to whisper, and Todoroki dons an adoring, appreciative smirk at your attempt to look out for him even whilst being fucked stupid.

Oh, he's fine.

If he's being completely honest he doesn't know whether or not he should be thankful for today's events or if he should be pissed off fucking rotten.

“Yeah, yeah.” He sighs with his tiny smile morphing into a pleasured grimace, still slightly amused by your concern despite his current state.

Of course he's okay, you could say he's having the time of his life right now. The hero may be under the control of an aphrodisiac of some sort, and he may not be able to think straight, but he's got one thing down for sure: He wanted this— you, sober or otherwise.

You'd clearly been on his brain the moment he got attacked, and maybe the moment before that one, and the moment before that moment, even. But that doesn't mean it was that quirk urging him to fuck you, oh no. Todoroki had that part planned way before, all this is just a minor adjustment to his schedule.

“Shhhhhoto, you're so lou.......”

Are you talking to him? Anyways—

Yes, that orgasm was the most intense 15 seconds he's ever experienced, but he feels guilty for it. What if you think he's using you? Actually, that's true, but USING using you? This is what's pissing him off. He could've been jackhammering you, stone cold sober right now without a worry. You would know that he's serious about you.

But then again, he could've just gone back to his place and fucked his fist until the effects wore off. Yet he's here, fucking you to no avail. God, he wants to see how your perfect face looks when you cum so hard on his dick. Needs to rough you up and make you want him 24/7. He must. Now.

Todoroki, line of vision lowering in a lusty, irritated daze, is dragged under by a series of utterly euphoric waves as soon as his trance is shattered by the sight of your little cunt barely able to take the entirety of his fat cock even with him pressed so hard against your quivering body.

The view is making him so weak, so grateful for you. Letting his head hang for a few seconds, he forces his eyes shut in case he rushes to earn another orgasm again. He won't let himself cum unless it's with you. The pain is nothing more than a challenge to him, just a means to see how long he can last until he can't take anymore—

“Fuck! Ple-hease, please!” you're literally sobbing now, too tired to face the hero.

Shit! Why're you being so loud!?

...It seems that you're not the only one who's suddenly increased the volume, either.

“Grr! Mmph, oh my fucking god,” Todoroki has been getting louder this entire time, had you tried to tell him just then? His own growling and groaning through gritted teeth is causing his ears to ring after zoning out for so long.

Honestly, fuck the neighbours, either of you could give less of a shit at this point, you're too lost in the feeling.

On impulse, he snakes an unsteady hand around your hips to immediately rub soft, weak circles on your puffy clit. His fingers are burning hot to the touch which is only increasing the sensitivity of the bud. Not to mention the perfect amount of pressure he's rubbing you with just increases the pleasure tenfold.

The tears rolling down your face and gathering on the marble beneath eventually soak into your hair, but you can't control yourself with him pounding your poor pussy this fast and—

“HUH! Shit, shit, shit!”

You bite down the urge to scream in pleasure when Todoroki quickly leans over to busy his other hand with one of your tits, rolling and flicking your nipple, simultaneously keeping you steady by forcefully pulling your body flat against his broad, sticky chest.

Yeah that’s right, atta girl, he thinks to himself.

Now that he's stimulating two of the most vulnerable parts of you, you begin to lose it. You're pleading, begging the man to “keep going, keep going, don't stop!”, and you're convinced that if he does stop, takes away your detrimental release, you might even die.

“Cum with me,” the feral hero demands with that irresistible voice into the crook of your lolling neck, “cum with me, baby.”

Jesus, fuck! This is so intense! So close, so close, so close-

!!

“Cumming—!”

All you can manage is a tiny, strained pathetic cry before crashing down in his hold, shivering body nearly paralysed with overstimulation as you squirt, helplessly tensing up with Todoroki's fingers still toying with you.

He’s rubbing you through your orgasm just as his own hits him like a brick.

“Hmph, hmph, huh, Y/n!”

The man can hardly fucking breathe as the high courses through his veins, and he has to squeeze you hard due to the sheer amount of pleasure from watching you squirt all over his fingers, and relief from that damn aching pain swiftly fading away.

.

.

.

“…I wanna take you out for dinner tomorrow.” (Sober.)

“No, no it’s okay Shoto. You.. you don’t have to make it up to me.”

“Make it up to you? It’s not like I was using you, I could’ve chosen anybody else. Notice how I’m not apologising for that specifically.”

“Do you really mean that?”

You’re even more shocked to the core to see a few tears sliding down Todoroki’s cheeks when you crane your head around in disbelief.

“Um! Are you okay, still?”

The serious grasp on your torso lightens, and you can feel a messy head of hair pressed into the side of your face. He grins and blesses you with an uncharacteristic wheezy chuckle, absolutely fucked out for the night.

Neither of you have to say a word after that as you help each other clean up, even though you’re both desperate to get the hell into bed and pass out.

A comfortable, happy silence.

/-/-/-/

“I’ll pick you up at five, that sound good?” Todoroki says as he’s on his way out of your apartment.

You shout excitedly from the bathroom, soaking in the bubble bath he so adorably prepared for you before you woke up, “Yup!”

Your agreement paints yet another relieved smile on the hero’s face whilst he end the conversation with an “alright”. He feels like a total loser grinning like this, he admits to himself, making sure your front door is shut properly before spinning on his heel.

Oh, but that smile doesn’t linger for too long.

He’s met with your next door neighbour, face to face. She’s holding her keys, in the position she was in before she spotted his recognisable face, about to unlock her door to put down her grocery bags.

Todoroki’s expressions falls instantly, morphing into a terrified grimace.

“I will literally pay you—”

“I won’t say a word, take my details if you don’t believe me.” She offers him a soft, trustworthy look.

‘Phew’ may as well have been written on the man’s forehead. But wait!

“Don’t… Don’t say anything to her, okay?” He gestures to your door, knowing full well that you’re at peace with the situation after forgetting about your audience, relaxed in your little bubble bath without a worry in the world.

“Understood.” She nods politely.

“Have a nice day.”

/-/-/-/

[storiesforallfandoms]

spirit of nature ~ jack sparrow;pirates of the carribean

word count: 2716

request?: yes!

@lazuli-leenabride​

“Yay! Could you do Jack Sparrow with a water Nymph?

Maybe where his crew found them and thought they were a mermaid at first?

Please and thank you!! 🦋🦋💘”

description: in which they save a creature of the sea, and their captain takes interest in her

pairing: captain jack sparrow x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

Captain Jack Sparrow was not the type to ignore cries for help. Especially not when the cries sounded like they were coming from a woman in distress.

It was an otherwise calm day as sea when shrieks of fear broke through the otherwise silent sea. Jack quickly rushed to the bow with his telescope in hand. In the distance, he could see another ship sailing away from them while a figure that looked like a woman was thrashing in the water, what looked like a net wrapped around her making it hard for her to stay afloat.

“Prepare a rescue, men!” Jack announced. “We have a potential distressed captive dead ahead!”

His men quickly rushed to the side of the ship as they approached the still thrashing figure. One of them threw a rope into the water as they got closer and it landed just next to the distressed woman. She didn’t hesitate to reach out one of her arms - which the ship came to realize was partly bound to her - the best she could and hold on tightly as they began to raise her onto the ship.

Her entire body was bound and a net was thrown over her, now clinging to her as they pulled her in and laid her out on the deck. She was shivering and she had a fearful look in her eyes as she took in the crew of pirates standing around her.

Jack pushed to the front of the crowd to take a look at the woman. Through her bindings, he realized she was naked. He turned to Gibbs and commanded, “Get her something to cover up while we cut her free.”

“Jack,” Gibbs said, “she’s...she’s not human.”

When Jack looked back at the woman, he saw that Gibbs was right. Although the top half of her body was human, the bottom half seemed to be slowly turning from a tail to human legs. This woman was a creature of the sea - potentially a mermaid, which was one of the most dangerous thing a sailor could come across in the entire world.

But she was also scared. She was also tied up and thrown overboard. For what, Jack had no idea. It didn’t seem overly smart to try and drown her since she could breathe under water, but maybe having her tied up so that she couldn’t swim and instead would sink to the bottom and risk being attacked by other sea creatures.

Whether or not she was a mermaid was currently irrelevant. Right now what matter was helping her.

“Get her something to cove up,” Jack repeated. “Find her somewhere to stay that is away from the others.”

Gibbs seemed reluctant, but he did as Jack said. None of his other crewmates would dare to approach the woman, so Jack was the one who had to step up and set her free. When he took a step forward, she whimpered and tried to move away from him.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Jack assured her. “I’m going to get these bindings off of you. My first mate is getting clothes for you and finding a place for you to stay. But first, I have to cut this stuff off of you, okay?”

She looked at him with wide eyes, like she didn’t believe that he wasn’t going to hurt her, but eventually nodded anyways. Whatever he could do to her couldn’t be any worse than what the other ship had done.

Jack produced a knife from his belt and worked at the net first. She was so tangled in it that there was no way he could just pull her free without harming her. He cut away at the net until it fell around her. Next, he started cutting at the ropes that bound her arms to her body, and that bound her now formed human legs together. The rope left behind terrible rope burn that felt like a fire was set around the areas of her body that it had been tied. She wished to leap back into the water to try and cool the burn, but she was still so exhausted and in so much pain that she knew she needed rest for the night.

Jack positioned himself so that his men couldn’t take in the sight of the naked woman in front of them. He found it a struggle not to glance down at her body, so close to his, but he did his best as he waited for Gibbs to return.

“Who took you before?” he asked her in a hushed voice. “Who threw you into the sea like this?”

She just looked back at him, her eyes wide. He could see she was still afraid. There was no use in pushing her for details now, especially when they were so fresh in her mind. Eventually she would speak, or maybe she wouldn’t and she would just wish to be released back into the water once she was rested. Either way, Jack wasn’t going to push the topic if she wasn’t willing to speak.

Gibbs finally returned with a blanket to wrap around her. He told Jack he had a private area prepared for the woman to stay in along with clothes for her to change into when she was alone. He still looked skeptical of Jack’s decision, but he kept that to himself.

Jack wrapped the woman in the blanket and helped her to her feet. She was hesitant to follow him at first, but eventually gave in and allowed the pirate captain to show her to her room.

“May I ask your name?” he asked her once they had arrived.

In a soft voice she responded, “(Y/N).”

He nodded. “Welcome aboard then, (Y/N).”

~~~~~~

The crew were abuzz the entire night about their passenger. None of them would bring the issue up with Jack directly, not wanting to go against the orders of their captain.

Gibbs, however, had no problem bringing the crew’s issue to Jack.

“They don’t trust that woman,” he was saying to Jack. “They’re afraid she has put some sort of spell on you with her mermaid powers. They think she’s going to make you do something stupid like give her the ship.”

“Gibbs, have I ever done something stupid for the sake of a woman?”

Gibbs gave Jack a look and opened his mouth to respond, but Jack held up a hand to cut him off. “Don’t answer that. I understand everyone’s concern, but I truly do not believe that woman is a mermaid. Mermaids usually use their powers to entrance any many around them. If she was truly a mermaid, then she would have all of us under her spell, not just me.”

“Then how do you explain the tail?”

Jack shrugged. “A bad cause of scabbies, maybe.”

“Jack,” Gibbs sighed. “I can’t talk you out of something once your mind is set to it, and I know that, but I want you to truly think about this. That other ship may have tossed her over because she tried to entice them as well and they realized before it was too late. What if she tries to do the same to us?”

“Then you can rub it in my face that you were right. But until then, I want you to respect my decision and do as I say. And that goes for the entire crew. You got that?”

Gibbs nodded. Jack waved a hand to dismiss him and turned to the closed door to the room that held their visitor. He approached the door, intending to go in to check on the woman, but stopped short and instead, deciding to knock.

There was a moment of silence before a timid voice asked, “Who is there?”

“It’s the captain, Jack,” he said. “May I come in?”

Another moment of silence, broken by the sound of the lock on the door being pulled back. When the door didn’t open, Jack let himself in.

She was sat on the bed, now clothed. She had herself curled up as far away from Jack as she could get. He could see she was still trembling, but he knew this was from fear now as opposed to from the cold.

“I just wanted to check on you,” he said. “See how you were feeling.”

“I appreciate the private room, and the clothes that you have provided for me,” she responded. She wouldn’t look at him, opting instead to study the wall in front of her. “Once I regain my strength, I will be going.”

“If that’s what you wish, we shall leave you on whatever island you desire to go.”

She shook her head. “I can swim.”

“I should rather think you wouldn’t want to go back into the water after an attempted drowning.”

“You know I am not human,” she said. “I saw the way your crew looked at me. I saw my own tail when you pulled me on board. You must know that I will be more than fine to be released back into the water.”

Jack nodded. “Whatever you wish, (Y/N).”

When it became evident that she was not going to speak anymore, Jack turned to the door to leave. He had his hand on the doorknob when suddenly she shot up from the bed, reaching out to stop him from leaving. Her hand met his and he felt the ice cold feeling of her skin. She jumped away just as quickly as she touched him, almost as if a switch were flipped inside her.

“I want your word that you will let me go,” she said. Her voice was still low, but there was more force behind it now.

Jack raised an eyebrow at her. “Why would you trust the word of a pirate?”

“I don’t. I don’t trust the word of any man, actually. But I want to hear you say you will let me go so I can determine whether or not you are lying.”

Jack turned to fully face her. She almost shrunk away from him, but found her courage and stood up tall. Jack could still see the fear in her eyes when she looked at him, but he could also see that it was starting to melt away. She was becoming more confident, more courageous. Maybe not comfortable, but he doubted any woman, sea creature or not, would feel comfortable in the presence of a pirate captain.

“I, Captain Jack Sparrow, give you my word that when you wish to leave this ship, we will let you leave without a fight,” he told her.

“You will not harm me?” she asked.

“We will not harm you,” he confirmed.

She studied his face for a moment before turning away. “You seem honest.”

“What did the men on that other ship do to you?”

She tensed. “They wished to kill me. They tied me up so that I wouldn’t be able to free myself from the net or to swim away, and they threw me in with an anchored net so that I would sink to the bottom of the ocean.”

“Lucky for you they didn’t know you weren’t human.”

No response. (Y/N) climbed back onto her bed. She wouldn’t meet his eye again, but this time she looked down at her lap.

“They knew,” she whispered.

Jack sat at the foot of her bed. He made sure to keep a distance between them as to not startle her further. It seemed he was starting to earn her trust if she was willing to tell him even the slightest details of what the men on the other ship had tried to do to her.

“What are you?” he asked. “My men think you are a mermaid, but I think otherwise.”

An amused look crossed her face. “Why do you think that?”

“I have encountered mermaids before. If one was on our ship, she would not let the men fear her. You would have enchanted everyone on this ship to worship you the moment we saved you.”

(Y/N) made a face of disgust. “Those retched creatures have ruined us. They have left a horrid reputation for us Naiads who just wish to protect the water and all its creatures, and do not wish to engage with humans.”

“Naiads?”

“A water nymph,” (Y/N) explained. “That’s what I am. I do not wish to cause harm to humans, just to care for the creatures who live in water. We don’t even live in the ocean the way that mermaids do. We prefer bodies of fresh water, like rivers and streams. That’s how those men found me. I was in my home pond in the woods when those men came trampling through. They saw me there, just watching them peacefully, and they grabbed me. They though that I was a mermaid, and apparently one of their men had been killed by a mermaid. They wanted revenge.”

Something about the hurt and afraid expression on her face angered Jack. He hoped they would come across the terrible men who had hurt (Y/N) so he could take care of them himself.

“Did they harm you?” he asked.

She shook her head. “They wanted me to suffer. They locked me in a tiny cage with no food for days, they’d give me water occasionally but only by pouring it on me so that my tail would come out and they could jab at it. And then they tied me up and tossed me into the ocean hoping I would sink or be eaten. I’m lucky you and your crew were sailing the same waters, otherwise I may not be here now.”

“I’m glad we saved you.”

When (Y/N) looked up to meet his eye, Jack could’ve been convinced that she truly was a mermaid, because just looking into her eyes took his breath away. He was willing to go to the ends of the Earth to protect her if that’s what she wanted.

But then he realized it wasn’t that she was using some sort of power on him to make him feel this way. It was that he was finally seeing the real (Y/N). The one who wasn’t afraid of him, but the one who trusted him enough to confide her true identity to him. The one who felt enough trust that she was letting her walls down, and now that they were down he could finally see her true beauty.

“Do you still wish to leave so soon?” he found himself asking.

(Y/N) was studying his face again before shaking her head. “No. I feel safer here than I do in the water right now. Not while those bastards are still out there.”

“Whenever you are ready to go back to the water, we will take you somewhere secluded enough that you won’t have to worry about them. And we’ll be sure to protect the area, and you, whenever we are around.”

“But how will you remember where you have left me if it is as secluded as you promise?”

“Oh, I’ll remember.”

(Y/N) seemed to understand what he was inferring. She smiled at him; a small, beautiful smile that almost took Jack’s breath away. He couldn’t help but smile back at her.

Their moment was quickly interrupted by the sound of (Y/N)’s stomach growling. They looked at each other for a moment before beginning to laugh.

“Would you like something to eat?” he asked. “We don’t exactly have fine dining on board, but we have enough food to feed a new passenger for a while.”

“I’ll take anything. I’m starving,” she responded.

Jack stood again and started for the door. “Alright, I’ll be back with something in just a moment.”

“Bring something for yourself, too,” she told him. “Perhaps we can eat together.”

Jack nodded, a smile tugging at his lips again. When he left, he didn’t close the door behind him so that (Y/N) knew that he truly was not trying to lock her away the way her captors had. He was merely giving her the option of privacy if she so desired.

And when he returned, the door was open, a welcoming gesture of her inviting him back into her room.

[tired-and-ticklish]

The Dangers Of Bows

Disclaimer: This is a tickle fic, so if that isn’t your thing, then just ignore this. 

Summary: Angel Dust likes pulling pranks. He really should have thought about his plan to prank Alastor a bit more thoroughly.

TW: Tickling (maybe a bit intense?), Restraints, Swearing, Mentions of Cannibalism, Angel Dust being Angel Dust.

Inspiration: This video

In Angel Dust’s defense, he thought it wouldn’t work.

In Angel’s defense, he thought someone would have stopped him.

In Angel’s defense, he thought Alastor would have noticed sooner.

In his defense, he had not expected the Overlord to be that distracted when talking with Rosie. The Cannibal Overlord had come to the hotel to get a good look at the new ‘business venture’ the Radio Demon had taken interest in. Apparently, talking to her put Alastor in such a good mood, he almost forgot where he was for a moment, and thus, didn’t feel the spider demon tie a bow around his tail.

Angel hadn’t even been aware Alastor even had a tail, until Niffty mentioned it off-handedly one day. That gave the spider an idea for a small prank, just a small one. Alastor also liked pranks, sure, but Angel didn’t want to end up double dead. Despite what people may think, he isn’t that stupid.

Or maybe he is, considering he went through with the prank, even though most of his instincts told him it was a terrible idea. He had waited until one of the rare days Alastor wasn’t wearing his trademark coat, and thus, his little deer tail was on full display. The Radio Demon only did this in the presence of Rosie, considering they had been friends for who knows how long.

“Certainly not as long as me and Al’!” Mimzy had said once.

The spider demon had honestly thought Alastor would have noticed his presence sooner, or caught onto Angel’s plans quicker. Hell, he was pretty sure Rosie had even seen him sneaking up on the deer, and yet, she didn’t say anything. Maybe she was curious as to how this would all turn out.

What Angel failed to remember was Alastor’s own shadow, which was almost like having a second Radio Demon. As soon as the bow was tied on, the spider let out a startled noise as Alastor’s shadow grabbed him, pulling him down and restraining Angel to the floor.

“My, you must have a double-death wish.” Alastor said calmly, looking over to the pinned pornstar. “Sneaking up on me while I’m having a conversation with an old friend?”

Angel let out a nervous chuckle. “Alright, you caught me Al.” He said, holding his hands up placatingly. “Dumbass move on my part, I know-”

“He tied a bow to your tail.” Rosie interrupted, casually sipping the tea Charlie had made.

Slowly, Alastor turned his head around to check if what his companion was saying was true. Angel had forgotten that the Radio Demon could turn his head like an owl, it being completely turned as he looked at his own tail. Sure enough, there was a bright pink, sparkly bow tied to the deer tail. Alastor’s head snapped back toward Angel’s direction, the pornstar instantly filled with dread.

“And you didn’t think to warn me beforehand?” He asked Rosie, incredulous.

“I think it’s cute~” She teased.

“A-Al, we can talk about this, r-right?” Angel pleaded, trying to crawl away. “I-It’s just a little joke, you know?”

Alastor seemed to consider this, scratching his chin in thought. “Well, my arachnid acquaintance, if you desired a laugh, you simply needed to ask.”

Before Angel could question what the Radio Demon meant, he saw it. The mischievous glint in Alastor’s eyes as he kneeled by the trapped spider. His shadow yoinked Angel’s arms upward, giving the deer easy access to his worst spots. Angel’s eyes widened, shaking his head frantically.

“W-Wait wait wait! Y-You don’t have to do this Al!” The nervous smile was already starting to form on his face.

“Do what~?” Alastor asked, before poking the spider’s sides. “I’m not doing anything.”

Angel bit his lip, trying to twist and turn away from the Radio Demon’s hands. It was useless, of course, as Alastor’s shadow held the spider firmly in place. The deer poked and prodded at Angel’s sides, his claws slowly, torturously tracing over the spot.

“Ah ah ah.” Alastor tutted when he noticed the spider biting his lip. “Why are you resisting now? You wanted a laugh, so I’m giving you one!”

“A-Ahahahal Ahahal I’m sohhohohorry! I-Ihihihih’ll lehehheeave yoohohohu aloohohohone!” Angel pleaded.

“You should have thought about that before, Angel.” Alastor chuckled.

Rather than go right for the spider’s worst spot, the Radio Demon decided to go for his own personal favorite spot: the ribs. He started at the top, just close enough to Angel’s armpits to get him nervous, before slowly dragging his claws down, tickling each rib with feather-like touches that made Angel lose it.

“S-Smihihihihles plehehehehease!”

“Sorry Angel.” Alastor said, not at all apologetic. “I am a cannibal, I just have to go for your ribs!”

Angel was about to let out another protest or plea, when he squealed as he felt a second set of hands tickling his stomach. He was regretting his decision to wear a crop top that day. Alastor raised an eyebrow, looking over and spying Rosie, who had her own grin.

“Oh Alastor, don’t you know the best part is the stomach?” Rosie asked, digging her nails into the spider’s fluffy belly.

“Really? Again with this discussion, Rosie?” Alastor asked, amused. “Ribs are the far superior meal.”

“Oh please, just look at how soft and tender the stomach is!”

Angel was losing his mind! Both Overlords were tickling him and acting like he wasn’t even there! He sputtered as he felt the Cannibal Overlord drag a finger slowly up the pink streak on his stomach.

“See? This one even comes with his own outline for where we could cut! Just open up this sensitive little belly~”

“Please, he’s so thin, I highly doubt his stomach would be of any value.”

Honestly, most people would be panicking from two cannibals talking about eating them or cutting open their stomach, but Angel knew that if Alastor really wanted to eat him, he wouldn’t bother with tickling him first. That just wasn’t who Al was, he wasn’t someone to give his victims comfort before eating them.

What Angel was panicking about was how close Rosie’s finger was getting to where his belly button would be. Before he could even attempt to beg, she dug right in.

“SHHIHIHIHIT SHIHIHIHIT!”

“See, Alastor? Listen to those little squeals!” Rosie teased.

Alastor let out his own amused chuckle. “Surely you’re joking. I think he’ll scream louder if I do this~”

Without warning, Alastor’s claws dig right into the top of the spider’s ribs, making him howl with laughter. Angel tried to squirm away, pull his arms down, anything to try to block out the sensations, but the Radio Demon’s shadow held firm. All the spider could do was kick his legs out, the only part of him not restrained currently.

“P-PLEHEHEHEASE PLHEHEHEASE IHIHIHIH’M SOHOHOHOHOHRRY!”

“You know, Angel, it’s rather rude to interrupt a conversation.” Alastor hummed. “Did no one teach you any manners?”

“Guess we’ll have to help him with that~” Rosie teased.

She ceased her tickling, allowing Angel to slightly catch his breath, still laughing as Alastor’s hands stayed at his ribs. The pornstar then felt Rosie hold onto his waist, his eyes widening as he realized what she was about to do. He pleaded, shaking his head as Rosie lowered her own toward his stomach.

“W-Wahahahit wahhahait dohohoohn’t!”

Angel’s pleas fell on deaf ears as Rosie blew a raspberry right into his stomach, making him squeal so loud, Alastor thought the whole hotel might hear. The Radio Demon hummed, deciding to show a little bit of mercy and cease tickling Angel’s ribs, allowing the pornstar to only focus on Rosie’s torment.

“I wonder if Husker knows about this little weakness of yours, Angel?” Alastor teased, humming a bit. “A few little raspberries and you’re practically a mess!”

Angel couldn’t help but blush as Alastor said that. The idea of Husk finding out how well raspberries worked on him making the spider both terrified and excited. He kind of hoped Alastor would tell the bartender, it’d save Angel the embarrassment of telling Husk himself. He was pulled out of those thoughts by another raspberry, and a few nibbles to his stomach.

As both Overlords noticed Angel’s laughter start to sound desperate, Rosie stopped her onslaught. Alastor snapped his fingers, his shadow releasing it’s hold, allowing the spider to curl up on himself, rubbing the spots where a few phantom tickles lingered.

“I do hope this goes without saying.” Alastor said, leaning near Angel’s face. “But I trust Rosie’s visit won’t be interrupted anymore?”

“Y-Yeah, yeah, no more interruptions.” Angel said, catching his breath.

“Delightful!” Alastor said, before getting up and dusting himself off. He held out a hand to help Rosie up.

“Aww, don’t be too upset Alastor.” Rosie hummed, taking Alastor’s hand. “He’s such a cute little thing! No wonder Husker likes him~” She teased, leaning down and pinching Angel’s cheek slightly.

‘Little thing’ was ironic, considering Angel was the tallest person in the hotel. The way Rosie complimented/teased him was… weird, but nice. Like a mother or aunt teasing you about your crush. While Angel pushed himself up, Alastor snapped his fingers, the bow the spider tied around his tail now on said spider’s head.

“Pink isn’t really my color.” Alastor hummed.

“Were you more mad about the color than anything?” Angel asked, not putting it past the Radio Demon.

Alastor chuckled. “Not particularly. If it was blue like a certain Television, then, well, I wouldn’t have been as kind.” He said with a threatening grin.

Message heard, loud and clear. Don’t put anything blue on Alastor.

“Now then!” The Radio Demon said, turning to the Cannibal Overlord, holding out his arm for her “All of this has left me famished, shall we head out for a bite?”

“Oooh, you read my mind.” Rosie said, her smile full of teeth as she hooked her arm around Alastor’s, allowing the deer to lead her out of the hotel.

Alastor snapped his fingers one more time, his coat materializing onto him and covering his tail once more.

[warnersister]

The Three Instances that Tom Riddle denied his love for you and The One Instance he didn’t.

Tom Riddle x Reader

The first instance - Not enough seating on a cold winter’s morn

Tom was allowing himself to indulge in a book while sipping on a butter beer in Hogsmeade, finding a source of comfort in the warm building - a rather oxymoronic atmosphere to the bismal blizzard beyond the doors. However, what wasn’t comforting was the rest of Hogwarts being practically packed into the building - others having a similar idea to Tom, however deciding against a silent narrative; and. Instead opting for a loud and irritating conversion across the building.

Something implored him to look up from the page he had been repeating in his mind for the last twenty minutes to glance towards the door. The bell had been a constant ring however for some reason only this one drew him to it. Your face was red and your teeth were chattering, frosted flakes forming on your lashes and lips plump as a reaction to the cold. Your mouth flashed into an excitable grin when you saw your friends, making an effort to remove the matching white earmuffs and gloves and shrugging off the similar coat. He noticed how despite the wind and snow, your hair managed to stay perfectly intact, finalised by a black ribbon pulled into a bow to hold the final pesky strands back into a more visually satisfactory position.

Tom wanted to tell himself that it was sickly how perfect you looked, but he was also knowledgable enough to know the way his heart started to palpitate and how beads of sweat emitted from his forehead despite his cold stature wasn’t by chance - his heart could not lie so he settled on confused. Never before had he felt such strong emotions but then again he welcomed the swarm of butterflies encircling his stomach. After all, your presence was keeping him warm.

His eyes darted back to his book when you began to approach him and a flurry of questions rose in his brain. Why were you coming towards him? Did he have something on his face? What did you want? Did you reserve this table? And why was he panicking? “Excuse me?” You say, voice small yet sweet giving a delightful contrast to the bustling environment surround you both. He silently cleared his voice. “Can I help you?” He replied, surprising himself as he mirrored your sweetening voice. “I’m terribly sorry to bother, but is this seat taken? I’m afraid we are void of some.” You say, sincerity in your tone and your face visualised your apologetic comment. “Oh no, not at all. Please” he motioned to the chair and you thank him with a grin, taking it and sitting beside your friends.

The butter beer you were handed gave you a frosted stash and you licked it away quickly with a giggle. Tom thought wall he was watching one of those wizard porno magazines he had found on his dorm-mates bedside table. You were too perfect and he hated it.

Yes. He hated it.

The second instance - Tom is late.

He needn’t have been late. Thomas Riddle was never late. On time is late and early is on time in his book. His watch was lying. But no, his swift entrance into the potions classroom proved futile as everyone was already seated and settled. “Welcome, Mr Riddle please find a seat.” His teacher said, lucky to be favourites and his eyes calmly darted for a chair.

“The seat beside me is free, if you would like.” I voice spoke quietly from beside him and he peered down to see your doe eyes peering back kindly at him. “Yes, thank you.” He sat and soon realised he was unsure of what a was going on.

Your elbow touched his side slightly, drawing him away from his thoughts and towards you. You lean in and whisper “I’m aware you like to write your own notes, but I hope these are good enough to help you catch up.” You hand him your own that are scrawled in a declare and sophisticated hand and smile, turning away. Your whisper made his hair stand on end and spine shiver. He didn’t understand why something as simple as your made him feel this way, blaming it on the temperature of the dungeons and not you.

Soon enough however, it was time for the practical work to commence and he was therefore stuck being your partner. Not that he minded, of course. He just told himself he did. You were each gathering ingredients, you had spit the list into two and appointed one another different roles of which he just complied and went along with, scuttling about to source what you needed.

Walking back towards the cauldron, you find yourself suddenly getting caught on another student’s protruded chair and lurching ever so ungracefully falling. Tom turns as you do so, and for some reason instinctively dripping his own supplies to catch you and break your fall, landing in some sort of forbidden classical dance finale. You look up at him, breath caught in your throat as he mirrors your expression. He eyes you, looking you over concerned that you had hurt yourself. “Are you alright?” He asks, small and you nod, allowing him to help you back to your feet. “Yes, just a little surprised that’s all. Thank you, Tom.” You give him a small smile and hold his arm then turn back to the task at hand.

The student who’s chair it was hurries over to apologise. “Maybe if you hadn’t been so lazy to not put the stool where it belongs she wouldn’t have been in this predicament.” Tom snaps at the student who silences his apology, turning away and handing his head.

Tom looks at you both surprised at himself for protecting you and for the look you were giving him. A mischievous smile. “Aren’t you a knight in shining armour?” You giggle and he chuckles with a smirk. “Shouldn’t have been so negligent.”

But Tom shouldn’t have protected you, Tom Riddle let’s damsels in distress fall. Tom Riddle does not do selflessness.

The Third Instance - Your Festive Nature Rubs Off On Him

Christmas - the muggle celebration - was fast approaching. Spirits were high in Hogwarts and students were busy awaiting excitable festivities and warming hot chocolate; schoolwork discarded and teachers uncaring as they too felt the jolly spirit. But not Tom.

Tom thought it was ridiculous that people so incredible and wise as wizards and witches would celebrate such a lowly muggle holiday. He was quite happy to tuck himself away in the darkest corner of the library until it was all over. Some much needed studying was to be done and he wouldn’t let this infuriating date ruin his exceptional record.

Tom was nose deep into a pile of books taller than himself, when he heard footsteps fast approaching. He peered up slightly to see who dared to disrupt him and had to double take as he noticed it was you. You were adorned in bright red despite being a devoted green, holding a box of sickly sweet decor between your hands, walking towards him with a strong and meaningful stride - you wanted something.

“May I interest you in a Christmas Biscuit or Father Christmas hat?” You ask, holding your treats towards him and he complies by peering into the box of goods. If it was anyone else he would’ve pushed the box out of their hands or use foul language to send them on their way. But for some reason he was yet to put his finger on, not you. “No thank you.” He says and you let out a dramatic sigh.

“A man as hard working as yourself surely needs some sugar to keep his energy up.” You wave a gingerbread man in front of him with a hopeful grin. He eyes you slightly and decided it would be simpler to take the sweet goodness from your hands than to argue, not because it was you - he was just hungry, his growling stomach of which he had been neglecting told him so. It wasn’t you at all.

Your lips form a gleeful smile as he accident lets out a satisfied hum at the taste. “I am a good baker when it comes to Christmas.” You tell him then wrestle through your box and put and odd shaped cylinder-like object, holding one side and encouraging him to pull at the other.

You raised a brow but you remain stubborn and shake the object and it rattles, dull. “It’s a cracker, please indulge and humour me on this one, Tom.” He nearly melts at your words and holds onto the other side, jumping slightly and feeling all gooey when he hears your giggle at his reaction. He holds the full side and does indeed humour you, curiosity killing the cat as he peers inside; pulling out a small muggle rubber duckling, a joke card, and a purple party hat.

He looks from his prize to you and you take the joke from his hands. “What do you sing at a snowman’s birthday party?” You asked, voice overflowing with a sense of humour. “What?” He allows himself to indulge. “Freeze a jolly good fellow.” You laugh and he smirks. “I know you found that funny, Thomas you are allowed to laugh.” You jokingly tell him, removing the party hat from its plastic confinements and reaching to put it on his head.

He should feel repulsed, horrified, disgusted, yet he allows you to put the purple hat on his head and stand between his legs to adjust it perfectly. Your tongue protruded from your lips slightly in concentration and he was enthralled by the sight, a warm bubbly feeling in his stomach when you look down at him. “Perfect.” You conclude and step back.

“Well I’ll allow you to get back to your studying, thank you for that, Tommy.” You say and make your leave. Tommy. What an awful nickname. You should call it him more often.

Tom thumbed the rubber duck and surveyed it for a few moments, before placing it into his breast pocket and tapping it securely as it began to thaw his cold chest, moving to adjust his oversized hat.

Tom enjoyed your unbearable love-ability.

The Instance When Tom Submitted - The Yule Ball.

Tom believed the Yule Ball to be a pointless annual ceremony. Drinks, facing, festivities, how pathetic. What infuriated him the most was how everyone was crowding in the common room to seek out their friends or nightly companions to accompany them to the great hall. How dare they interrupt his peaceful study period!

His breath caught abruptly in his throat when you descended the stairs of the girl’s dormitories. Your skin was glittery and radiating, reflecting from the contrasting black breaded gown tight on your body, corset forcing your breasts to sit in a forcibly plump and admirable position. You hair was in a tight up-do, a headband matching your dress, black lace gloves highlighting the dark and fluorescent green on your well-kept manicured nails, Vivian Westwood flats on your feet and a red lip to tie of the lip. Tom thought he had died and ascended to the holy land where he would reside after death.

You notice his stairs from beyond his book and give him a sweet, adorable tight-lipped smile before descending the final step and joining your friends who were each being complimented by their dates as yours interlocked your arms. Tom felt a horrible twang in his chest as the man touched you - how dare he? How dare he lay his eyes upon you? How dare he breathe your precious oxygen? How dare he - Tom shook his head, ignorantly ignoring his thoughts and forcing his brain to absorb another several paragraphs of perfection-worthy potions essays.

Tom had the common room all to himself. It was peaceful, it was relaxing, it was ideal. But his calm world came crashing around him when the sound of familiar sobs echoed from the entrance of the common room and drew closer. Looking up, he noticed the rivers of ruined mascara and smudged lipstick on your face and his face immediately dropped, discarding his book and standing to stride over to you. You lol up at him, slightly surprised at his response your entrance and allow him to survey you.

“What happened? Are you alright? What did he do?” He bombarded you with questions in an unfamiliar; caring tone. “He left me to go dance with some Ravenclaw who had her breasts practically hanging out. I was forced to sit by myself while I watched my friends dance with their partners and not once been offered a hand. I feel foolish.” You say and Tom’s knuckles go white at his sides from clenching them at your words.

Very much in his own control, he lifts his thumbs to wipe below your eyes and remove the remnants of sadness the residue of your tears had left behind. As much as he wanted to kill the foolish boy, to hex him, to torture him, to make him feel the pain you did currently, his heart told him that you needed him and his comfort more than he needed revenge on your behalf.

“He is the foolish one. He does not deserve you. He should be lucky he still has eyes look at you and a voice still to apologise with.” He says. “You should not have accompanied him, regardless.” He adds. “Who was I supposed to go with? Myself?” You laughs slightly. He shakes his head in response. “I’ll have you know I rejected a plentiful number of offerings and accompanied him as a last resort.” His eyebrow quirks in confusion. “And what did he have that the other bachelors lacked?” “Nothing. A small, foolish part of me ridiculously hoped that you would have asked, Tom.” You said in a small voice looking into his eyes.

His heart beats quick and his breathing stops. The moment in frozen as the world surrounding you both spins in a painful cycle. He looks down at you and forfeits. He surrenders. He raises his white flag. He admits the reason he loved you so much was because he simply did and it was an unavoidable conclusion.

“Perhaps I would have attended such a ridiculous event if you were by my side.” The sides of your mouth quirk into a small smile which quickly drops as you look above your head. Curious, Tom does the same and a small, white-berried bush becomes suddenly apparent. “Mistletoe. What a ridiculous muggle tradition.” He says quietly enough for you to hear it. He then looks down to you and notices the disappointment in your face. “It’s a good job your gingerbread was as delicious as it was, I may have to indulge once more - just this once.” He says and dips his head down and leans in.

Your soft lips touch his and a powerful firework erupts in his stomach in a euphoric manner, settling his inner dispute with a true loves kiss. You each pull away and you go to rest your head against his chest but get confused by the dull ache in your cheek. Reaching into his pocket he pulls out the small duck. “Turns out I enjoy indulging.” He tells you, leaning back in to continue his euphoria.

[lisannastraussisanangel]

Lucy and each member of Team Natsu sparring headcanons? :D

This is gonna be fun and longgg! I wish we had more training stuff with them

Natsu

He challenges her all the time but whenever Lucy is down, he changes his mind

It drives her nuts. So one day Lucy walks up to him in the training room and just decks him

Natsu is gobsmacked. He cannot believe she hit him

But then he hits her with that grin and its on

They know each other so well that the fight lasts a crazy long amount of time

Natsu has the experience perk, but Lucy also knows he's holding back a little cause he doesn't wanna hurt her (well not too bad at least) and she uses it to her advantage

A crowd forms and start rooting for who they think will win. (Cana is taking bets)

Neither of them use magic, it's not a rule but they are enjoying hand to hand too much to even think about it

Lucy ends up pinning Natsu and winning. He learns something about himself that day ;)

Gray

The first time they train together is because of a drunken bet

Gray makes a joke about how Lucy might use a bow and arrow now but he's way better at it

And Lucy will not take that lying down so she challenges him right then and there

Imagine two very drunk mages wielding bows and arrows, doing an absolutely terrible job at hitting anywhere near their targets

Gray eventually gives up and freezes her bow

Then they just start physically fighting. It's sloppy and neither of them is doing a very good job, but they are trading blows for nearly an hour

Magic is on the table and Lucy is drunk enough to think using urano metria is good idea.

Gray straight up freezes her where she stands and takes his victory

Natsu had melt her and she was pissed for days about it

Erza

She finds out that the boys have trained with Lucy and is pissed. How dare Lucy not wanna spar with her??

So Erza is determined to get her chance, but Lucy is terrified.

Erza is scary after all

Eventually, Erza convinces Lucy to let her teach her how to sword fight

Lucy agrees but begs Erza to be gentle. (Erza agrees but is a filthy liar)

The lessons are hard and Erza has no mercy. Lucy actually takes to it pretty well, but she has to use her Taurus form to be able to match Erza's stregth

Lucy ends up really liking it and the girls make it a regular thing

Unfortunately, Erza learns that Lucy is very good at outsmarting her opponents. She's also not scared to play dirty

The first time Lucy manages to scratch Erza, the entire Guild falls silent in terror

Erza, of course, just laughs and charges forward

Soon Erza is dragging Lucy to Kagura to show off her skills and Lucy becomes part of the sisterhood

Erza always wins but Lucy puts up a good fight

Wendy

Lucy thought she'd be the one giving Wendy tips and tricks

And that's how it started at first, Wendy wanted to learn some hand to hand stuff but the others were too rough on her (she is still young and they forget that)

But Wendy has the dragon slayer strength and halfway through the session sends Lucy flying

Wendy freaks out and is apologizing like crazy, but now Lucy is all fired up

Wendy uses her size to her advantage and manages to get several more hits on Lucy

Then they start pulling out magic

Lucy uses her Scorpio form (and Scorpio) to combat Wendy's wind

No one knows who won because the girls ended up trashing half the guild hall and causing Master Makarov to have a breakdown

The rest of the guild nearly throw a party. It's a right of passage to trash the hall

[elthadriel]

hi im here to cause problems 😌

💛🖤

any of the ships in the terrible horrible no good polycule (echofivestupdogmaslick+)

Despite his best efforts Tup can’t quite manage to tear his eyes away from where Fives is trying to eat Echo’s face. He wrinkles his nose. It wasn’t every day that your dead partner came back to life, but did they have to celebrate so loudly?

“I think this might be good for us,” he says.

“Really?” Dogma asks hopefully.

“Really?” Slick is less optimistic.

“Really.” Across the landing bay Fives gropes clumsily at Echo’s ass. Tup can hear them moaning from here. Is Five that loud with him? He hopes not. “I met Echo before he died—”

“Before he went missing,” Dogma interrupts.

“Before he went missing. And Fives talked about him all the time. He seems sensible.” They could use another level head around here.

Echo pulls at Fives’ hair with his remaining hand. Their mouths are open so wide they might as well be licking each other.

Slick hums in a way that makes people want to punch him. “By ‘met’ do you mean drooled at him working out in his ARC gear across the gym?”

“No! I mean I had a conversation with him.” He’d also drooled at him across the gym, but who hadn’t?

“Look, kid,” Slick says, as though Tup hadn’t ended up serving longer than he had, even if he’d been decanted first.

“Don’t call him kid,” Dogma says. He doesn’t look at Slick either, eyes locked on the two ARCs. He’d been drooling right next to Tup.

Slick rolls his eyes, but bows to Dogma’s wishes in a way he refuses to for anyone else. “I just think we should all keep in mind that Echo and Fives were already members of the 501st when I was arrested.”

A sort of dread that is usually reserved for when Fives and Slick really get into it pools in Tup’s gut. And maybe a little lower. It wasn’t going to happen, but that didn’t mean that Slick and Fives fighting wasn’t hot. What would adding Echo to the mix even—

Tup needs to get laid. He has two actual partners and a sort of partner in the form of Slick. How is it he never seems to manage more than jerking off in the tiny shared fresher?

“Did he know you?” Dogma asks. “If he…” he trails off, eyes widening in an expression that Tup is familiar with. Sure enough, Fives has shoved up Fives shirt, showing off his broad back.

The landing bay is empty except for them, but there’s no guarantee it’ll stay that way. They’re supposed to be laying low. Fugitives of the Republic and all that.

How had Echo even found them? Tup files away the question for when Echo’s mouth isn’t occupied trying to deep throat Fives’ tongue.

Slick cocks his head at the display, but doesn’t lose focus. “Nah, I didn’t interact much with the 501st if I could help it. But I bet I got some of their little buddies killed.”

Fives wedges a leg between Echo’s and Echo’s civvies don’t hide enough to for Tup to even pretend that Echo isn’t humping it. Echo’s lost the built ARC that Tup jerked off to a couple of times before he died—it had felt morbid after—but he still holds himself with a straight-backed confidence that hits very nicely despite the circumstances.

So Echo won’t like Slick. Fine. What’s new?

“Yeah, but no one likes you, Slick,” Tup says.

“We do,” Dogma points out, which is only true on a technicality.

 Slick lounges back against their ship looking so very pleased with himself. “Yeah, I’m sure he and Dogma will be the very best of friends.”

Dogma pales. “Fives and I have moved on,” he says very quickly.

“Sure you have, kid.” Slick says. “But you arranged for a firing squad to shoot Echo’s favourite lay. How do you think he’s going to feel about you? Even if said lay has decided to stop bringing it up.”

Dogma’s face makes it very clear he’s come to the exact same conclusion as Tup. So much for getting to fuck two ARCs at once he supposes.

“He’ll probably like you,” Dogma says to Tup, dejected misery having fully consumed any optimism.

“Yeah, trooper. You’re just everyone’s favourite.” At least Slick sounds happy.

“Lucky me,” Tup mutters.

They lapse into several seconds of blissful silence, interrupted only by the wet activities happening across from them.

Slick straightens up. “Huh. Those limbs are more dexterous than I’d have imagined.”

“Okay!” Tup slaps Dogma and Slick on the shoulder. “We’re waiting inside the ship!”

[diagonal-queen]

The Moon and the Sea

♡ pairing: Paul Verlaine x Arthur Rimbaud

♡ synopsis: After a hard day, Verlaine finds solace in the arms of his partner.

♡ wc: 1.5k

♡ cw: Stormbringer spoilers(?), Rimlaine are extremely sad and gay

note: "i want to write a oneshot about some really beautiful but tragic gay men but i cant think of anything" i said to @small-chaos. they replied "Everybody talks about the moon and the sun but nobody admires the beauty in the relationship between the moon and the sea" and then this brainchild was born. thanks bestie <3 i would also like to shoutout @gettinshiggywithit for helping me complete this when i ran out of brain power, thank you lovely 😚😚 apologies for errors and I hope you enjoy x

The early winds of autumn were warm and gentle, relieving busy Parisians of the sticky summer humidity as the changing season set itself in motion. The sounds of evening began to die down, leaving only the rustling of brown and orange leaves in its wake. Yet, one man hadn't been privy to this particular noise, as all his windows had been closed as soon as he'd first entered the apartment the week prior. All he could hear was the crackling of fire and his own chattering teeth.

Rimbaud found himself growing colder by the minute. That night, he sat shivering on a sofa right before the fireplace, with a thick fluffy blanket wrapped around him. Despite the fact that he was also clad in several layers, a thick grey coat, a large scarf, mittens and earmuffs, he still felt like he might succumb to hypothermia any second.

He wanted nothing more than to leap into the fire itself, but he sat as still as he could and waited. Verlaine was supposed to be back soon, and when he knew that he was alright he would be able to go to their shared room and sleep (somewhat) soundly. That was what he'd planned, at least.

After hearing the sound of the door unlocking, Rimbaud bowed his head as Verlaine entered the apartment and closed the door behind him. He momentarily glanced at his partner, before doing a double take in shock.

Verlaine looked...dishevelled. He wasn't so dishevelled that a stranger may take notice and ask him about it, but for Verlaine, even a loose strand of hair was unusual. Rimbaud immediately knew something terrible must've happened.

"Paul, you...!" Rimbaud sat up, eyeing Verlaine who didn't seem to want to return his gaze. He silently walked, or rather stumbled, over towards the couch where his partner was sitting.

Rimbaud had never seen Verlaine act in such a way. Sure, he could come off as aloof from time to time, but today he didn't seem bothered to hide the fatigue he was feeling. Even his complexion seemed paler.

Verlaine then kneeled on the sofa, before his whole upper body flopped on top of Rimbaud, who let out a soft grunt at the impact. He tried to adjust his posture, but now that Verlaine was slumped on top of him he found it difficult to move.

"Are you alright?!"

"I'm..." Verlaine pushed his hat off his head, letting it fall to the ground by Rimbaud's shoes. "...I'm tired."

His umber eyes seemed unfocused, staring somewhere Rimbaud couldn't see.

"What happened to you, Paul?" The raven-haired couldn't help but feel concern bubbling inside him, and the question came off with more urgency than he'd intended it to. Not that it mattered- Verlaine never seemed to care about things like that.

Verlaine didn't answer for a moment, just letting out a breath that he seemed to have been holding in for a while. His face contorted into a slight grimace.

"...Paul?"

"...I don't want to talk about it now."

In spite of his worry, Rimbaud didn't press him further.

The room was bathed in a golden hue from the fire before the couch they were draped upon. It subconsciously gave a feeling of comfort to Rimbaud, who suddenly noticed how tranquil the atmosphere was despite the fact that he was trapped beneath Verlaine's roughed-up form. He realised that he wasn't shivering so violently now. He was still cold, of course, but Verlaine acted as a soothing source of warmth.

Rimbaud's gloomy eyes gazed down at Verlaine, whose eyes had closed by now. There was no blood on his person, of course, but his slightly dishevelled blonde hair and wrinkled clothing weren't any less cause for concern. For something or someone to have even a slight effect on a creature as powerful as Verlaine...

Rimbaud steadily moved his gloved hand and, after a moment of contemplation, placed it atop the back of Verlaine's head as gently as he could muster. Verlaine didn't react. Rimbaud let out a deep exhale, and cautiously ran a hand through his soft golden locks.

The small room the two were temporarily staying in, an apartment in an old Haussmann-style building located on the outskirts of Paris, was silent. They had become accustomed to moving around as frequently as their job required, and had never bothered to modify any of their living spaces to feel more homely. Rimbaud only cared about where Verlaine was, and Verlaine didn't see much merit in interior design. Yet, something about this place felt inherently intimate, or so Rimbaud thought.

"...Rimbaud?" Verlaine suddenly mumbled. Rimbaud cast him a glance, his face half obscured by blueish shadows while the other half glowed in the yellow light.

"Hm?"

"...I heard something in passing a few days ago," he began, almost as if he were unsure of his own words. "It was about love."

"Love?" Rimbaud creased his eyebrows, perplexed. If one were to ask him anything that Verlaine may bring up in conversation, love wouldn't have been in his first thousand guesses.

"Yes, love...I heard someone compare the concept of soulmates to the sun and the moon," Verlaine continued with a faint voice. "I don't quite understand it."

"Well..." Rimbaud's tone was slightly shaky. "You know the phrase 'opposites attract', don't you?"

Verlaine let out a small noise but Rimbaud couldn't tell whether it was affirmative or negative. Regardless, he continued.

"It means that two people who are different from each other are likely to have a better relationship. The 'sun' person would usually be more outgoing and cheery, while the 'moon' person is more introspective and quiet..." He bit his thin lip and then added, "Not unlike you, Paul."

Verlaine shifted slightly, his hand perching itself on top of Rimbaud's chest.

"Not unlike me...?"

"That's not to say that introspection and quietness are bad things," Rimbaud quickly spoke. "I just mean that...they're traits that suit you well. The 'moon' caricature as a whole suits you well, in fact."

"The moon..." Verlaine muttered to himself. "So far away from the rest of mankind...perhaps I am like the moon."

Rimbaud wanted to comfort Verlaine, to reassure him that he wasn't far away from anybody, especially not him, but the words wouldn't form on his tongue. He felt as if he should have been better at this by now; after all, it was far from the first time they'd had this type of conversation.

"If I am the moon then you're the sea." Verlaine suddenly announced, snapping Rimbaud out of his train of thought.

"The sea?" Rimbaud repeated, quietly. "...I don't understand."

"The sea is complex, full of mystery. You can never predict the force of the ocean's waves as they crash on the sand," Verlaine breathed, as if he were reading a poem. "You are deep and dark, Rimbaud. You're full of undiscovered secrets...and..."

He lifted his head up, lidded brown eyes staring straight into Rimbaud's. "We might be opposites, but I don't think you're a sun."

Rimbaud's breath hitched in surprise. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Verlaine's, whose tired gaze still burned right through him.

"Every day I survey you from afar and it feels almost like you glow when I look at you. How strange is that?"

The black-haired man couldn't tell whether or not Verlaine's question was rhetorical or not. Even if it wasn't, he probably wouldn't have been able to come up with a coherent answer. He was frozen in surprise, unable to break the tense silence between them.

Verlaine's hand moved from Rimbaud's chest to his cheek, gently cupping it while his thumb began to rub circles over his soft, pale skin. The blonde man seemed to be in some kind of fatigued haze.

"The saddest thing is how unattainable you are. But I know that if I were ever to fall..." Verlaine leaned forward, his breath tickling Rimbaud's face. "You would be there to catch me, wouldn't you?"

Then, without giving him the chance to answer, Verlaine brought his lips to Rimbaud's. His grip on Rimbaud's cheek tightened ever so slightly as he deepened the kiss, almost smiling when Rimbaud placed his hands on his back and squeezed.

"Paul-" Rimbaud tried to start when he pulled away, wanting to ask if they should be doing this or if it was really alright, but Verlaine just placed a finger to his lips.

"Shh..." the corner of Verlaine's lip turned up. Rimbaud's cheeks flushed red, and he quickly dove back into the kiss.

Aside from pulling apart for air every few seconds, the pair remained in their gentle embrace until Verlaine eventually pulled away, leaving Rimbaud breathless, and laid his head down on his chest.

"I'm tired, Arthur..." he said, before closing his eyes. Verlaine must've been exhausted- he never called Rimbaud by his first name. It made his heart skip a beat; something he hoped that Verlaine didn't notice.

With the state he was in, Verlaine probably wouldn't remember this in the morning. Rimbaud decided that unless he bought it up first, he wouldn't say a thing about it, no matter how much he wanted to.

And thus, the pair never spoke of that night again. 

taglist~ ♡ @gettinshiggywithit, @fyodorhatr, @flower-of-darkness, @bejeweledgirl

[sophsicle]

Ooooh I saw you answer that question about writing advice and became curious: do you write “original” fiction as well as fanfiction? (love that for you either way). Love your fics btw. Kill Your Darlings is my absolute jam 🥰

I do yeah!

i don't really do anything with it but it does exist!

i shared the first chapter of one of them on here a while ago i think? i can't find the post now but i'll throw it down below if you're interested! Also thank you im so glad you like kyd!!!!

Ram

I think my father made the trees without mouths on purpose. For if they could talk, all of creation would know his secrets. Of course, in the end, perhaps it is better not to know. Kinder for him to keep us in the dark. Knowing is an anchor, it will drown you. That is why, on quiet days, you will hear the distant sounds of forests weeping. 

There’s a disturbance behind me. Nothing loud or startling—a slight rustle, a breath, the scrape of a leather boot. It is subtle and that is why I do not trust it. Never trust anything that is trying to be quiet. Without thinking my hand goes to my bow, an arrow in place by the time I turn around. 

Montoya laughs, holding his arms up, mocking me. He is dark, my brother, all the way through. 

“Scared, Ram?”  

I know instantly that I did not catch him. He wanted to be found. 

“No,” I answer flatly, “just prepared.” 

Montoya laughs again, bleeding an ease that I have never been able to find myself. Perhaps it is the sort of thing that comes with age. Though when you’re thousands of years old how much difference can a few centuries make?

“Your arms must be getting tired brother,” he says casually, and it is only then that I realize my weapon is still drawn. With reluctance I lower it, returning the arrow to the quiver on my back. 

“Why are you here?” this time I cannot hide my irritation.

“I could ask you the same question.”

I give him a flat look. Of all my siblings, Montoya has always made me the most ill at ease. There’s something about his eyes that leaves me wary. They are gapping holes that you swear will swallow you up and never set you free. 

“You are a terribly dull conversationalist Ram, has anyone ever told you that?” 

I don’t take the bait.

“Tsk tsk, what would father say about these manners huh? You’ve been spending too much time amongst the trees brother, you’re starting to turn into one.”

Not all my siblings can fly. My younger sister, Cartha, has gills instead of wings, and my brother Sye hates having his feet off the ground. But most of us, in some form or another, find ourselves in the sky. Montoya’s wings are large and crow like, hardly subtle or practical, but then, neither is he. Even now they create enough wind that I can feel myself fighting not to be pushed backwards. My own wings are small and white and sprout from my ankles.  

“Well,” I say finally, “if that’s all.” I turn my back on him, a dangerous move I’ll admit, though to his credit, Montoya has never attacked the family. He did, however, kill our sister’s cat once. 

I can hear him following me, hear the beating of his great wings. The noise grates my nerves. He is insufferable and there is nothing I can do about it. Sure, I could fight him, I’m good with a bow, but in truth, my brother is stronger. Besides, a fight is what he wants. It tickles him to make me angry. That’s his whole game. 

“Why so gloomy brother?” he asks, flipping onto his back as he pulls up beside me. I have never heard him be anything but taunting and cruel. I wonder if there was a time when he was not like this, but Hario assures me that there wasn’t and she is the oldest. Still, I find it hard to believe. After all, why would father create a son so hateful?

“I’m always gloomy,” I retort, keeping my gaze forward. 

It is spring, the sun setting and lighting the sky on fire with oranges and pinks. They reach out like fingers from the horizon, as if desperate to hold onto the day. 

“Well that is certainly true. Our melancholy little Ram,” he says in a baby voice that makes me want to spear him through the throat.  

“If I am melancholy what does that make you?” 

“Jolly?” 

I cannot help myself, I laugh. The idea that anyone would describe Montoya as jolly is too much for me.

“No, you’re right,” he says, sounding not at all offended. “Jolly is perhaps too dull a word, I am witty.” 

I look at him, brow arched. “Witty,” I repeat flatly. 

He grins, or perhaps sneers is more accurate. “Certainly wittier than you.” 

“Certainly.” 

“And our dear brothers and sisters.” 

“Certainly,” I repeat, though my jaw is clenched and my nails have begun burrowing into my palms. 

“I expect that is why father holds my opinion in such high regard.” 

“Not as high as Hario's.” The small flash of anger in his eyes is satisfying, though he maintains his smile. 

Hario is undeniably our father’s favourite. In truth, she is my favourite too. I have never been very good at getting close to people, but I have always felt comfortable around her. I can speak to her, tell her things in a way I can’t tell anyone else. 

“Not as high as Hario's,” Montoya repeats, the mockery from earlier melting away, revealing something much sharper. Much more dangerous. He might play at pettiness but I know that, in reality, he is far more sinister. “For now, anyway.” 

I stop abruptly, as though an invisible wall has suddenly appeared in my way. When Montoya finally stops too, turning to face me, I see a glint in his dark eyes. He’s won. Gotten the reaction he wanted. Snuck himself under my skin.  

“What is that supposed to mean?” I demand. 

“Ooh,” he is clearly enjoying himself, “have I hit a nerve?”

When he smiles I swear he has the teeth of a wolf, and in the setting sun they sparkle. I do not know why my father made him, why he poured all his ill will into this one creation and then named it son. A common misconception is that because there are gods there must also be demons. If I am the creator of all, my father always says, why would I create evil? Yet staring at Montoya now, at his black eyes, and pointed teeth, the sky ablaze behind him, I do not struggle to understand why the humans believe in a devil. 

“Do not make idle threats brother,” I say, attempting to keep my tone level. 

I’m playing right into his hands, I know, but I’ll not have Hario threatened. Not by anyone. He smirks, eyes running me slowly up and down before he moves forward, pausing just close enough that I can smell his breath.  

“I promise you,” his voice is so quiet it’s nearly carried away by the wind, “my threats are not idle.” He pauses, before laughing. “Brother.” 

His great wings flap, disturbing the trees below us as he flies higher in the sky.

“Father wishes you to know that he was much displeased that you missed his last banquet,” Montoya shouts as he continues to rise. “If I were you, I would not miss the next one.” 

I watch as he grows fainter and fainter, becoming nothing more than a black blip in the distance. I don’t move. I’m afraid that if I do the anger in me will unleash a hurricane. Quite literally. We are, all of us, me and my brothers and sisters, in possession of an affinity for one of the four elements: air, earth, water, fire. My element is air, Montoya and Hario both master fire. 

I force myself to take in several deep breaths, stretching out my hands which have cramped from being clenched so hard. There is a rage in me that I fear, I don’t know where it comes from or why it’s there, but it sits always in the corner of my chest. I have worked my whole life to suppress it, to keep it locked up inside me so that it can never hurt anyone else. Most of the time I succeed. But Montoya brings out the worst in me. 

I take another breath, the sun is almost gone now and the sky is navy blue and made of velvet. Slowly I start moving again, without really knowing where. I dip lower to the ground so that the tops of the trees brush my skin. I run my hands through them, they are cool now that the sunlight has fled. There shouldn’t be anyone out here to catch me, I’m miles from the nearest human site, but I keep a watchful eye on the ground anyway.

I have always hated my father’s banquets, even in my first days of life. There are too many beings, too much noise, and the way they all look at me…I take no pleasure in the power my father has given me, in the authority that comes with it. The other creations stare at us, or bow, offering up gold and wine and sometimes blood. I cringe at the thought. I have never once felt worthy of the deference they show us. In fact, it makes my skin prick and itch. I am not a leader or a ruler, I never have been. I prefer to watch from a far. In truth, I have always gotten the distinct impression that I am somewhat of a disappointment to my father. 

I close my eyes and drift for a moment, letting the air hold me like a pair of arms, cradling me in the night sky. There is sweat covering my skin, it drips slowly down my arms and legs and the side of my face, sending shivers across my bones. I breathe in again, slowly, listening to my heartbeat, to the expansion of the lungs in my chest. Somewhere a dog howls and a bird cries out. Their voices are faded by distance but they linger long after they are let loose. Hanging in the air just like me. This is where I am happiest, alone in the dark.

This is where I belong.

Edward

I don’t know if my mother ever loved my father. I don’t know how she could have. But I suppose, ultimately, it’s of little consequence. She brought with her a dowry too good to refuse, one which provided the Kingdom of Presado with enough ships and gold that it could boast of having the largest naval force this side of the world. And in return, her people gained the loyalty of my grandfather, one of the greatest military commanders alive, an excellent ally. Love was hardly considered. It never is. You cannot win a war with love, you cannot build palaces or feed hungry mouths with love. So why do we persist in the belief that it is so very important to our happiness? Why do we speak of it in the context of marriage and family when we know that it is so rarely present in either of those establishments? 

I don’t know if my mother ever loved my father. But I know that I certainly didn’t. 

I usually don’t bother with such thoughts but, staring at my own wedding contract, I find them hard to avoid. They say she is beautiful, the princess who is soon to be my wife, but then, they always say that. What use have I for a beautiful wife anyway? Mistresses are chosen for their beauty, I would rather my wife be clever. 

“She’s not a fanatic is she?” I ask my advisor, Rufus, as I look up from the pages in front of me for the first time in ages. My mother laughs and I meet her eye, grinning. Rufus simply looks startled. He’s a small man, with tuffs of hair coming out of his mostly bald head, and eyes that protrude so far from his face you fear they will fall onto the floor. He is wildly clever though. He was significantly under valued by my father, probably because he is in possession of a conscience. Skittish and odd he might be, but his loyalty lies firmly with the realm. A rarity, I have found. 

“A fanatic, your Majesty?” he squeaks. “What-er-what do you mean?” 

“Oh you know,” I wave my hand impatiently. “The type who never drinks or dances or laughs. Who always has their knees bent before some alter or another. Who cannot breathe without fearing for our souls.” 

My mother is shaking her head. As a child I loved to make her laugh. It was not a difficult task, my mother, for all her heartache, is a woman with a happy disposition. 

Rufus blinks his great eyes at me. “As far as I’m aware, sire, she possesses a perfectly…adequate…level of piety.” He looks to my mother for help but finds none. 

“You are going to be the death of him, Edward,” she says instead. 

My grin widens. “Come now, it was a fair question was it not?” I turn to Rufus knowing full well that he will splutter, unsure of what to say. And he does just that. “I don’t want to be stuck with a bore now do I?” 

“There are slightly more important factors to consider here my son, as I’m sure you are aware.” 

I am. Painfully so. I must marry Princess Analeigh whether she is a humourless hag or not. As with my mother and father, the alliance is a good one, and we are too weak to survive without it right now. Still, knowing all this, I cannot help but hesitate, especially when I see my father’s handwriting on the pages before me. He orchestrated the match, wrote most of the contract himself. But however unconcerned I may appear on the outside, I have spent hours pouring over these words and, grudgingly, I can find no fault in them. 

I sigh, resigned, stretching out my hand and dipping my quill in ink. 

“You’ll sign?” Rufus sounds half-relieved and half-shocked. Clearly he expected me to be more trouble. I try to hide my amusement. I know that my reputation is that of a scoundrel. A spoiled youth who drinks and gambles and whores. They think me ignorant. They think me incapable—the great men who have gathered in this court over the years. I don’t mind. Let them underestimate me. It will make it all the easier to knock them down.

My hand hovers over the parchment, the quill threatening to drip. I look back up at my mother, she is all in black, in mourning. It doesn’t suit her. Even in death my father is controlling us. What we wear. Who we marry. 

“This is the last time,” I don’t know why I say it out loud. I suppose to make the promise feel more real. He will not pull our strings again.

“The last time, your majesty?” Rufus asks, looking between us in utter confusion. 

My attention is not on him though, my eyes locked with my mother’s. She does not even flinch. 

“Yes,” she says, knowingly. “The last time.” 

I nod, returning to the contract while Rufus’s distress continues to mount. He has missed something, he knows it, and he does not like it. Finally, I let the quill touch the parchment, my hand moving swiftly along the familiar path of my name. 

“There,” I say, feeling the opposite of relief as I lean back in my chair and push it away from me. “It’s done.” 

Not my best line, I’ll admit it, and not even true. This is only the beginning. For a moment I think I catch a glimpse of my father hovering in the corner of the room—just the tail of his robes as he storms out the door, followed by the grizzled noise of his laugh. In my memories he is always old—old and bitter. I swallow, blinking the ghost out of my eyes as I sit up straighter. I do not know if I will make a better king, but gods, I hope I make a better man. 

“Excellent,” Rufus mutters, gathering up the papers. “Excellent, excellent, I’ll deliver these to the envoy and then things can proceed.” He slides from the wooden chair, the table nearly as high as his chest and when he bows his upper half disappears completely. 

“Your majesty,” he says as he re-emerges, “with your leave…” he looks towards the door. 

“Yes, of course, go about your business Rufus.” He starts backing away before the words are even fully out of my mouth, moving so quickly that I am shocked he does not trip. After the door closes we sit in silence, my mother with her eyes on me and me with my eyes on the far wall. 

“You look worried.” 

I snort. “Do I? Oh dear, I hope I don’t start to wrinkle.” 

She smiles, but I can tell she will not be so easily placated. “Edward?” 

“Mother.” 

She arches her brow, she has the incredible ability to look at you so thoroughly you feel your skin has been taken off and your insides entirely exposed. 

I sigh, running a hand through my hair as I rise and move towards the window. It is beautiful today—spring has come and the gardens are in full bloom. How I wish I was out hunting instead of caged up in here signing away my life. 

“The church will not be happy,” I say finally. 

“The church?” my mother responds after a brief pause, “Or Addison?”

“Is there a difference?” 

Another pause. I bring my finger up to the glass and begin to trace along the lines. My family’s crest has been meticulously woven through every inch of the palace, the windows no exception. 

“He agreed to the match,” my mother says finally. 

“Yes, but he will not be pleased that I signed it without him.” 

“No,” and I think I hear the slightest hint of amusement in her voice, “he will not.” 

In the last few years of his life, my father had a change of heart in terms of religion. Since before memory the people of Presado have prayed to the Solistic Church. A religion which believes the world was created by four gods who were masters of the elements. Ignis was always my favourite, the god of fire, who watched over battles and was considered the most clever of the four. I still pray to him, though my father’s laws forbid it. The laws that are now my own. 

The trouble really began with his last campaign in the North where a large clan of nomads have claimed territory. My father dreamed of being a conquerer King, dreamed of reclaiming the deserted northern territories from the barbarians. But this turned out to be far more difficult than he expected. 

He returned from the first campaign with only a third of his men, most of whom were injured. Things did not improve from there. After five years of loses and increased violence on the border—for the nomads had begun burning the keeps of the northern lords in retaliation—the nobles pushed back. We’re done, they declared, we will send you no more support, no more troops, no more gold. They were not willing to be wiped out for the sake of one man’s glory. Even if that man was the king. 

My father responded in the only way he knew how—with violence. Executions. Most heavily levied in the North, for they were the loudest denouncers of the war, being the ones closest to the fighting. There was peace with the nomads before, the would argue, can we not return to that? So, of course, my father hung their commanders, their sons, and, sometimes, the lords themselves. In truth, we were on the brink of a civil war when Addison appeared. No one is quite sure where he came from, there had been whispers for a few years about a counter religion but no one put much store in it. Then one day he was here, at my father’s side. He promised men and money, all he wanted in return was a reformation. My father agreed. After all, what had the old gods done for him?

“Edward?” 

I jump at the sound of my name, but I don’t turn around. My fingers still pressed to the glass in front of me, through the coloured panes I can just make out the green grass and manicured trees. 

“Mother.” 

I know the face she’s making even without looking at her. Calm, refined, but with worry in her eyes. And sadness. I sometimes wonder if he put that there, my father, if before him she was all light. I hope that now that he’s gone she will be again. 

“You cannot solve all the worlds problems in a single afternoon my son.” 

I nod as I hear her rise, feel her hand squeeze my shoulder as she passes by on her way to the door. 

“I’m not trying to solve the world’s problems,” I say as I hear it close, “just ours.” 

[selineram3421]

Could you do any, like, Alastor x really powerful reader and so he's kind of simultaneously intrigued and interested and a little bit scared of them

Oooo~ Well I do like power and giving a good scare.

Power

Alastor X Powerful Reader

Warning ⚠

⚠Blood/gore, descriptive injuries.⚠

.

The first time Alastor met you was during one of his regular strolls through one of the parks in Hell. It was the usual type of day, the majority of sinners running away just at the sight of his red coat.

Quite dull...until it wasn't.

Just ahead there was a scuffle between two demons. It was quite obvious that the bigger one started whatever fight that was going on with their rude remarks.

"Come on! All I did was touch your ass.", the oaf said, as if it was such a simple innocent thing.

"And all I'm going to do is rip your spine out of your body!", you growled.

"Pfft- I'd like to see you try."

.

Oh, you did more than try~

.

It was absolutely breathtaking!

The screams of the foolish demon sounded throughout the whole park as you broke their limbs. Bashing their skull on a nearby bird fountain, their head now dented and some of the brain peaking out. Ripping their jaw off, a terrible sound as the skin stretched and ripped, blood spraying out. Finally clawing at their neck to do exactly as you promised.

You moved so fluidly, as if you were dancing with knives.

Blood almost covering you completely as you tore out the spine, the body flopping to the ground and the screams ceasing.

"Well, that's a new skull to add to my collection."

Collection? Well, aren't you full of surprises.

Clapping snapped you out of your daze of bloodlust, looking right at him.

"My! What a show! A beautiful performance, if I do say so myself!", his smile wide as he walked up to your form, not at all minding the blood and pieces of the now dead demon on the ground.

Before he could get any closer, a flash of an otherworldly creatures surrounded him and it was gone in a second. He stopped a few steps away.

"And who might you be sir?", you asked politely but also firmly as well.

"Do forgive me, I am Alastor!", he says with a hand to his chest and bow.

Crickets...

Do they not know? Him? An Overlord!?

"Pleasure.", you say flatly.

"Oh but the pleasure is all mine dear! Especially with such a wonderful display of power!", he says, hiding his annoyance with a smile.

Surely they must know who he is..

"Might I know your name?", Alastor asks.

"Names are a powerful thing to hold, so I won't give it freely.", you say, placing a hand on your hip and the other holding the head like a glass of wine. "I do however, want to know why you've come to start a conversation."

His smile twitches and he sees you smirk.

"Well, all I wanted to know is if you'd like to chat!", he says with a clap of his hands. "Is that so hard to believe?", and a tilt of his head, as if he's innocent.

"Very. We are in Hell after all.", you say being blunt and start to walk away.

"Just a moment, I-", he tries to place a hand on your shoulder.

Alastor stops dead in his tracks. Very much like a deer in headlights.

The surge of power that came off of your form was strong. A murderous glow in your eyes as you looked over your shoulder at him.

"It's not polite to touch someone without their permission.", you say with a sweet smile and shake the head in your hands, spine still attached to it. "Until next time, Radio Demon~"

And you disappeared within a blink.

.

There will most certainly be a next time.

.

~

I didn't know if it was for a headcanon or a short story.

Took a guess.

~Seline, the person.

Part 2~

.

Power ChL🍷 | ML for Alastor🎙

[skyloftian-nutcase]

I stayed up way too late last night because this wouldn’t leave my brain, so enjoy

The dark lizard shifted, taking on the form of the eldest hero, and the height difference of the other form also lifted Sky up by his throat, cutting off his calls for the others.

“You really think they’ll help you?” The shadow-version of Time hissed with a sneer. “You really think anyone will come to your aid once they know?” Sky fought against the hold. If he could just not be in the air…trying to swing the Master Sword resulted in a mildly annoyed look before the Shadow twisted Sky’s arm until the bones creaked, then broke. His beloved sword clattered to the ground. He would have gasped at the sudden pain if his air wasn’t running out.

The shadow had taken a Hylian form now…holding Sky up by the neck as the Chosen Hero fought weakly against the hold on his neck.

“Ah, heroes.” The Shadow grinned as they froze. “At last… here. A gift for you.” And with that, a black cloud rolled from the Shadow’s outstretched hand and enveloped the heroes…

—

“See, Chosen Hero. They know now. Know that you’re responsible for their suffering and they’re leaving you to suffer…” Sky’s head started to loll back, he was fast loosing consciousness, and the Shadow huffed and shifted his hold to a handful of the tunic and the broach that held his cape in place, allowing Sky to gasp for air.

“They’re not coming to help you…” he taunted. “Look at how they just stand there, furious at what they’ve seen…” Sky couldn’t see. What little of his vision that wasn’t threatened by black spots was blurred by tears. He could barely hear over the wheezing of air through his tortured windpipe and the pounding of his heart. But the worst part was the silence from the other heroes.

“I’m sorry.” It was all he could give. It wasn’t enough, it would never be enough but he had to say it. He repeated it over and over, going from the rasp of an almost-strangled-a-minute-ago to a desperate plea. The continued silence from the Chain was almost more damning than their anger. He could handle being screamed at. He could work through anger. He could make amends with disappointment. He could work harder, push himself more, do something, as long as they hadn’t given up.

But they had

No one would fight the monster to save him.

Not then, not now

And he was too slow

Too weak

Too late

A mistake

It was fitting that the Shadow took this form…the hero that had the most reason to hate him for what he’d done…

Time broke free from the Shadow’s spell first, yanking a bow away from a still-frozen Wild and launching an arrow at the Shadow. Sky’s pleas for forgiveness were getting weaker. The boy was crumbling in the Shadow’s hold. Time’s aim was terrible, it was honestly a miracle he hadn’t hit Sky, but the arrow bounced off the Shadow’s paldron. The Shadow hissed in a manner more fitting of his reptilian form than his current form, then cracked a grin.

“Don’t you appreciate my gift, Hero of Time? You have a face to put to your suffering. Someone to take the fall for everything that’s gone wrong.” He waved the Chosen Hero without letting go.

“Let him go.” He barked. The Shadow laughed.

“Very well…” the Shadow drew his version of the small gilded sword Time kept on one hip, then drove it twice in quick succession into Sky.

OOF OH NO SKY

GET HIM, TIME

AHHH AJ!!!!

[drama--universe]

I need you

Requested by anonymous: Omg omg omg hi!❤️ The Untamed is my life and now I can find someone who makes such perfect stories on this topic? Am I in a dream??? I hope not, I have a request for Wen Ning (already like "puppet, my darling)😁: The reader (female) is his longtime friend who never let him down and protected him even more after his death (and subsequent resurrection). It was fine at first, but then something goes wrong and Wen Ning tells her that she doesn't need to protect him so much, that he can handle it himself and he didn't realize how terrible that sounded. The reader cries and runs away. At a loss, Wen Ning seeks advice from Wei Wuxian and Lan Zhan. They reveal to him that the reader actually likes him... more than a friend and that she did it all out of love. Wen Ning then goes looking for her and also confesses his feelings for her. Sorry if it's too long, my imagination is pretty wild...and please something cute ❤️ I love you!

Pairing: Wen Ning x fem!reader Word Count: 1.0k words Warnings: none

It felt like only yesterday that you saw the healthy version of Wen Ning, one that always smiled brightly and hopped around as he practiced his bow skills. Yet now, he wasn't like that anymore. He was paler and his eyes didn't hold the same life as they had before. He was dead or at least technically, but he still walked around like he was fine. Years of friendship made sure that even now, you could see him as he was. Not the ghost general, but rather Wen Ning. Just Wen Ning, the cute man that acted a bit too much like a lost puppy.

The chains that were locked around his form looked heavy, yet he wore them with ease and even used them to fight. You shouldn't care so much for the deceased man, yet here you were. Protecting him against other cultivators while he just awkwardly stood there, staring at the people.

"Move." "Oh, move yourself. You're not wanted here and you will lose." You sneered at the elder before you, raising your swords in front of you before grabbing your second sword from Wen Ning's hand. Luckily for you, they moved away once Jiang Cheng entered the scene. Although the glare to Wen Ning was obvious, the man in question seemed to not notice or chose to ignore it. Nonetheless, the nobles just cursed before all entering Lotus Pier. You followed, but stopped once you realized that Wen Ning wasn't able to join you.

"Let's hang out here together." "You don't need to." His voice wasn't loud, barely above a whisper as he sat down on the docks. Nonetheless, you chose to join him anyway. Sitting beside him, you leaned against the wall behind you as you stared at the lake.

"Why did you protect me?" He asked and you turned your head before laying your head on his shoulder. It wasn't like before, his body didn't give off the warmth that it used to and instead it was freezing cold.

"You're my friend, of course I'll protect you." You sighed softly, smiling as you saw some birds land in the water beside the lotus flowers. You flinched when Wen Ning stood back up without a warning, causing you to almost fall down on the ground. With a confused look, you stood up as well.

"I'm fine on my own. I don't need you." He spoke and your eyes widened, staring at the man before you as your heart shattered. Now, you know that he probably didn't mean for it to sound like that, and yet it hurt. Like someone cut out your heart and stomped it into the ground. You couldn't help it as tears rolled down your face, blurring your vision as you stepped back from him.

"Fine, then I'll leave." You spoke, your voice cracking before you ran off into Lotus Pier. You didn't care much for the man that remained at the entrance nor the saddened look on his face. Instead you focused on keeping your tears in until your reached your bedroom.

"Please tell me you didn't say it like that~?" Wuxian whined loudly, staring at the ghost general before him before looking at Lan Wangji for any kind of help. Said man only looked up from his book for a few seconds before rolling his eyes before continuing to read. With a low grumble, Wuxian turned back to focus the problem at hand.

"Look, girls are complicated. We all know that... Especially if they like you, because (y/n) definitely likes you. But you really phrased your thoughts in the wrong way, like a lot." Wuxian spoke and Wen Ning sighed, looking down at the chains that were wrapped around his wrists while trying to process the fact that Wuxian just told him that you liked him. He fiddled with the strings on his sleeves before looking up again, asking what he could possibly do. Wuxian smiled before starting his rant, explaining every single type of apology that he knew and this certainly wasn't a short list. Nonetheless, Wen Ning listened intensely.

"Got it, good! Now go apologize to her and confess!" Wuxian exclaimed loudly, smiling as he watched Wen Ning awkwardly left the room through the window. He snuck around while trying to find your room on his own. Soon enough he did and like always, he climbed through the window to avoid suspicion. You were in your room, but also quick to notice him with a soft yelp. You stared at him for a few second before pointing at the window.

"Out." For once he didn't listen to you, instead he remained at the window with a sullen look on his face. You sighed, knowing well enough that he wouldn't budge now and instead you just sat down.

"Why are you here? I thought you didn't need me." Your voice was laced with venom that Wen Ning could easily spot, if he was still alive his heart would ache painfully. Nonetheless, he started to apologize as he tried to copy what Wuxian had been telling him to say. It sounded a bit forced at first, but you could see that he meant what he was saying. Then came the shock as a confession rolled from his tongue like it was the most obvious thing ever.

"Sorry, what?" You stopped him and he looked at you with wide eyes, realizing that you found his confession a bit weird. Scrambling to find the right words to make the confession sound better, he missed the small smile that appeared on your face. It wasn't until you stood in front of him and took his face in your hands that he stopped, staring at you with wide eyes.

"I like you too Wen Ning." You said and in an instant, a smile appeared on his face as well and you were sure that he'd blush if alive. Once everything was progressed, he softly embraced you while trying to not hurt you with the chains that hung on his body. They may not weigh much to him, but he assumed that they'd be on the heavier side for you. You wrapped your arms tightly around the man's shoulders once you realized that he was trying to hug you, smiling while doing so.

"Never say you don't need me anymore." You spoke, your voice sounding a bit sad and Wen Ning was quick to shake his head.

"I will always need you."

[twstedstoryshop]

In which Shopkeep puts themself on blast for being a catboy lover. That’s it. That’s the whole post. More to come maybe? -Shopkeep

Cat Shifter AU

The Cat

Azul didn’t have the best start when he came under your ownership. When you first saw him, he was a thin, ugly little cat with so much matted fur, fleas, and could barely open his eyes from how crusty they were.

He didn’t even have the strength to fight you. Only letting out a pitiful hiss as you took him in your arms and you brought him back to your place.

It definitely took a lot of TLC to bring Azul to where he is now. Really having to shave him down, bathe him, and taking him immediately to the proper vet. You were sent home with medicine and the best food to get him to a proper weight.

For the first few weeks, Azul didn’t move from hiding under your bed or wherever he could squeeze himself into. You would leave food and water out for him and you know he’s eating in secret, but every time you glanced at him in his hiding place, he spits and hisses up a storm.

It took patience and a lot of gentle coaxing before slowly and surely, the cat slipped out. He gave a sniff, a gentle headbutt to the hand, and the rest was history.

Nowadays, everyone can see clearly that this once ugly cat transformed into a gorgeous, fluffy Ragdoll. Also, Azul is attached to you like glue.

Every room, from the living room to the bathroom, that cat follows after your heels. If he doesn’t see you, he starts screaming until he can see you again. Leaving for work really became a hassle as he would be yowling to the heavens before sulking in defeat, awaiting your return.

Let’s face it, Azul would be a chunky cat. He is so fussy about his food and will absolutely complain unless you have a specific brand of fatty cat food that he loves. You’ve tried desperately to get him on a diet for your vet’s sake but he whines horribly and goes on food strikes.

Surprisingly adores being dressed up. Vests, bowties, little hats, he allows it. Dare say, maybe even enjoy it as he basks in your attention. There is one piece of clothing he will not part with ever though and that’s your collar for him. A purple bow tie with a bell and his nametag. You can absolutely hear him from a mile away with his jingling. 

The Boy

So… What to do when one day, you come home and don’t see your beloved Ragdoll coming to greet you? You walk up the stairs quietly, expecting to see your little friend asleep in your bed, but no. There’s a handsome, silver haired man curled up snuggly while wearing your clothes.

But the kicker is the pair of cat ears atop his head, the fluffy matching tail, and the exact same collar Azul wears around his neck. It doesn’t take rocket science for you to figure out what the hell is going on.

You had to stop yourself from getting the wind knocked outta you from this strange predicament you found yourself in. You clutched the door frame to hold yourself and that was enough for Azul’s ear to twitch and he’s immediately up.

Those familiar vibrant blue eyes that always greets you everyday look so strange being on this guy’s face, but you don’t feel frightened. If anything, the more frightened one was the catboy before you.

His hands reached out to stop you, but hesitated. His hands shook terribly and his body language screamed “being in panic”.

“M-master, wait! I-I can explain! Wait, no, can I even call you master in the first place? Agh, I swear, I-I can fix this please… Just don’t…” The guy was already in tears before he could choke out the rest of his statement. He’s sobbing and you’re instantly beside him, tentatively offering comfort, albeit with some awkwardness.

“Hey, hey! It’s gonna be okay! Don’t cry! Uhmm… Azul? Azul is that you?” He nods meekly and you let out a slow exhale of breath. “Hoooo… Okay, figured. This is a lot to take in.”

“I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry for being disgusting… I’m so sorry for being a freak. I’ll always stay in my cat form and be good, just please, I beg you, don’t throw me away… Please.” “What!? Throw you away? Who said I would throw you away, Azul?” “... My last owners did.”

Turns out the reason why Azul was all alone outside in the first place was that his owners kicked him when they realized he was a shifter. They caught him in his humanoid form one day and chased him out, thinking he was a monster. It makes you realize the reason for Azul's anxiety whenever you leave. A fear of being abandoned again.

You spend a lot of time with Azul in his new form, getting to know his past and truly reassuring him that there’s nothing to fear. You have no intention of throwing him out when he clearly can’t fend for himself. Sure there may be changes in your relationship, but he can definitely stay.

This sends Azul in another crying fit and you have to calm him down again. That night, Azul turned back into his cat form and didn’t leave your sleeping form, purring up a storm the whole night.

Life Together

Overall, life with shifter Azul is pretty a-okay. He is a very good kitty and he’s very proud of his status as your good boy. Thrives off your praise and attention, be it in cat form or boy form.

Listens to your orders faithfully whenever you want him in a certain form for your comfort. Legit if you said the word, “I never wanna see your human form if I’m around,” he will actually follow that to a T. If you just want your pet cat, you WILL get your pet cat.

You learn that in the past, Azul used to be a show cat. Which makes a lot of sense considering how pretty he is as a cat and why he’s so willing to accessorize for you. He eagerly offers his skills for you and that he can rake in cash.

You decided to go for it, going to various cat shows, showing off Azul and immediately people were swarming to do deals with you. Advertisements, social media, heck maybe a cat cameo on TV. It was scary how well Azul would guide you to accept certain deals or not, but he was making ends meet.

Just as much as he liked dressing up as a cat, Azul would try on any clothes you bought for his human form. Or if you just want him to be wearing your clothes, you can certainly go down that path too. But again, the collar stays no matter what.

Your biggest #1 fan. There’s not a day where he isn’t singing your praises, being so happy in your presence and adoring every second you’re around. It honestly can be overwhelming with how clingy he is and you have to tell him to slow down if you’re not into that kind of affection.

Though as much as you liked having Azul around, you did know how incredibly lonely he got when you needed to leave the house. You wonder to yourself, would it be a good idea to get him a friend? Or maybe two…?

[secretswiftymarvelfan]

Memory Served - Ransom Drysdale x Reader (Prologue)

A/N: The super secret project is here!!!! I am super excited to share this mini-series with you, I have had this idea for so long and I CANNOT wait to see what you guys think!

All I ask is that you don't spoil it, this is a mystery series, so please when you comment or reblog please put spoilers under the cut using the read more function! This also means I won't be responding to comments straight away!

This series is also my attempt at dipping my foot in the water of OFC fics, so the reader is a named reader! it will still be written in your POV, you'll just have a name instead of Y/N.

So without any further ado let's dive into it!

Series summary: Following a terrible accident, every memory you ever made was gone leaving you to try to piece together what happened.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: to avoid spoilers I won't be tagging warnings, but if you are concerned about being triggered by anything PLEASE reach out to me so I can put your mind at ease! This is an 18+ ONLY series!

Masterlist / Series Masterlist

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

Everything hurt. Your head was pounding, and your limbs felt like lead. You tried to move but you couldn’t, you tried to open your eyes but you couldn’t keep them open for long enough. Only catching glimpses of people standing over you and blue flashing lights. 

“Miss? Miss, can you hear me?” You heard someone say above you.

You try to look at where the voice was coming from.

“Stay still, everything is going to be okay, can you tell me your name?” The voice says again.

You try to speak but your voice comes out hoarse. You gulp trying to clear your throat before trying to speak again.

“It's… my name’s….” You say before darkness consumes you once more.

When you finally woke back up there was a dull ache all over your body. There was a ringing in your ears and your throat felt like sandpaper. 

As you slowly became more aware of your surroundings you could hear a faint beeping and the feeling of someone holding your hand. Eventually, you managed to open your eyes, squinting as your eyes adjusted. 

“Sweetheart?” You heard a man say to your left.

Looking over you saw a man you didn’t instantly recognise. He was a charming-looking man, his brown hair neatly styled back, icy blue eyes searching your face. A hopeful expression on his face as he squeezed your hand.

“You gave me such a fright kitten, please don’t do that again,” he says shaking his head as he kissed your knuckles.

“Who- who are you?” You croak coughing slightly.

The man sighs in disappointment, his shoulders dropping as he bows his head. The heartbreak was evident on his face and all you could wonder was what you’d done.

“They warned me this might happen, but it's okay we’ll get through this together I promise,” he says his eyes finding yours as he squeezed your hand again.

“What- I-“ you say completely confused.

“What do you remember?” The man asks sitting forward.

You look around as you try to recall any memory at all. But you couldn’t. You don’t know what happened to you. You couldn’t remember where you were from. You couldn’t even remember your own name.

“Nothing,” you say fearful tears collecting in the corner of your eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey it’s okay I’ll help you remember I promise,” the man says soothingly.

“My name is Ransom, Ransom Drysdale I’m your fiance,” Ransom says introducing himself.

“We’re engaged?” You ask shocked.

“Yeah, I know this is a lot to take in but we’ll take this as slow as you need,” Ransom tells you reassuringly.

“What’s my name?” You ask nervously as you see Ransom look back at you sadly.

“It’s Dorothy” Ransom tells you gently his thumb gently brushing over your skin

“Dorothy,” you say the name feeling foreign on your tongue.

“Yeah, you’ve always hated it, said it was an old person's name,” Ransom says with a weak chuckle.

You watch him swallow nervously shifting in his seat as if waiting for some form of response. But you had nothing, a deep guilty feeling stirring inside you when you saw his sad eyes. So you lied.

“Yeah that sounds about right” you mutter glancing down at his hand.

Ransom gives you a small smile “is there anything else you want to know?” Ransom asks you.

“Um- how- how did I get here? What happened?” You ask glancing around at the hospital room.

“It's my fault” Ransom sighs making you look over at him concerned.

“We got into an argument and you stormed out and drove away, I don’t know what happened but you spun off the road and crashed. You left everything at home I only found out you were here when I heard about it on the news” Ransom says his voice catching as he told you what happened.

“It's not your fault,” you say feeling the need to comfort him even though he felt like a stranger.

“It is, the argument was my fault and if it hadn’t happened you wouldn’t have left and you wouldn’t be here right now, unable to remember a thing,” Ransom says his voice breaking as he looks down to hide his tears.

“Hey, hey it's okay, I’m alive which is the most important thing, and I’ll remember stuff eventually and if I don’t then I’ll just make new memories,” you say comforting him.

He lets out a watery chuckle as he looks back up at you “you’re the one in the hospital bed, I should be comforting you not the other way around” Ransom says.

“This can’t be easy on you though” you point out shrugging your shoulders as much as you can.

“No, but we’ll get through this, and it’ll make us stronger,” Ransom says putting on a brave face.

“Stronger” you agree nodding your head gently. 

“I’ll go get a doctor and see if I can get you home sooner” Ransom smiles standing up.

He kisses the top of your head before heading out of the hospital room. Once he was gone your smile fades as you try to make sense of everything. Ransom seemed like a good guy, there was something about him that felt familiar. But there was a feeling in your gut that told you something wasn’t right. You didn’t have the memories to know what though.

The more you thought about it the worse your headache got. It felt like it was overheating as it tried to recall memories but still nothing. You just had to trust Ransom, he seemed trustworthy.

“Hey it’s good to see you awake, how are you feeling?” The doctor says grabbing your attention as he walked in.

“Um sore, disoriented” you mutter rubbing your forehead.

Ransom moves to sit down beside you once more, his hand reaching out to take your spare one. He squeezes your hand gently, a sympathetic smile on his face when you glanced over.

“That’s pretty common for people with cases like yours” the doctor nods glancing over at Ransom.

“With amnesia?” You say before shaking your head “I thought that only happened in movies” you comment.

“Unfortunately not, it's rare but still happens” the doctor confirms with a sigh as he looks down at your chart “but all things considered I’d say you’ve been pretty lucky, you’ve sustained minimal injuries, to the point that I’m happy to discharge you today” 

You look back at the Doctor shocked, this didn’t feel right, you’d only just woken up they couldn’t be sending you home already. You look over at Ransom worriedly but he gives your a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry I’ve already organised a private nurse to help make sure you’re okay” Ransom tells you gently.

“But- but the cost,” you say shaking your head.

“Don’t worry about that kitten, just focus on getting better” Ransom says cutting you off.

You nod, swallowing nervously “and- and I will get better?” You ask looking over to the doctor.

You watch as he glances over at Ransom before looking back at you “we hope so, but don’t try and force it, just take it steady, slowly try and prompt memories” the doctor tells you.

“O-okay I will” you nod gently.

“Good to hear, I’ll just grab you some forms and I’ll help you leave” the doctor nods before heading out of the room.

Once he was gone you let out a shaky breath as you look up at the ceiling, your vision blurry as everything you just learned sinks in. The fear of not knowing anything and not knowing if you’d ever remember anything ever again overwhelmed you.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Ransom says squeezing your hand.

You bite your lower lip as you look over at him.

“I know it's scary but we’ll get through this, I promise” Ransom swears to you.

You take another deep breath as you try to control your breathing. You scanned Ransom’s face trying to trigger some sort of memory, but all you got was some sense of familiarity. Going on that alone, you decided to trust him.

“Okay” you mutter.

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[internet-sadass]

Closer To God (Thomas Browne x Reader)

Blurb: When Y/N gets the chance to finally talk to the man she stares at every week during sermons, she feels blessed. Yet, her impurity appears to be known to the man of her desires: Thomas Browne

Warnings: smut, some manipulative type talk?, age gap

So, this is my first public fanfic (yikes) and hopefully someone enjoys it. There’s not enough Thomas content so ofc i had to write some absolutely vile filth. Also, idk that much about puritanism or how they exactly spoke so sorry if this isn't historically accurate but not sure anyone is that worried 

There he sat, front row as always, head bowed, hands clasped in prayer. His lips whispered repentances for whatever sins he had committed this week. Locks of wavy, deep brown hair, bobbed slightly as he murmured his prayers. Mr Thomas Browne, recently widowed and anxiously trying to save his soul through absolute devotion to the church.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him. Every Sunday, you would sit through sermons about damnation, the seven deadly sins, and be watching him, eyes scanning over his form. Needless to say, it made church bearable.

A hand firmly grasped your arm.

“Y/N! Keep your eyes from wondering lest you wish to be burned for eternity. Such shame for my own daughter to be consumed by lust on the Lord’s Day!” Your mother hissed, yanking your attention away from Thomas.

“Now pray to the Lord to cleanse your impure thoughts. Lusting after a widowed man, what shame!” She continued in a hushed voice, shaking her head.

“Sorry, mother.” You mumbled, holding your hands together and pretending to pray. Instead, you snuck another glance over to Thomas. He’d sat back in the pew, running a hand through his hair, before turning ever so slightly to look over his shoulder. Your breath caught in your throat as his grey eyes met yours for a fleeting moment.

All these months, you’d watched him, wanted him as your own. Even when his wife was still alive, that didn’t deter you from spending the hours of weekly sermons tracing every hair, every angle of his face. He was the most handsome man you’d set your eyes upon. If there was one thing you would devotedly worship, it would be him. You would bow before him if you ever had the chance.

Church finished finally. You rose from your aching knees, straightening your dress out. Pastor Walter stood on the steps outside, blessing the congregation as they filtered out, occasionally exchanging a few words. You edged silently past him. Something about his wandering eyes made you think he might have worked out your guilty admiration of his most devoted church member.

Mr Browne stood a few paces away, talking softly to his son Edward. His breath was turning to mist in the chilly air, illuminated by some stark rays of winter sun. Your being ached, wishing it was permissible to speak with him. What you would say escaped you, but to hear his voice address you would be like a prayer being answered.

He began to walk away, Edward trailing after him. He looked melancholy as he looked about at the bleak trees. That’s when your focused eyes spotted a white handkerchief laying on the frosted ground.

He had dropped it.

Without hesitation, you gathered your dress and briskly walked down the steps, pausing only to grasp the forgotten handkerchief before running after his form.

“Mr Thomas, sir!” You called, catching up with him. pausing he turned around, looking at you with those grey eyes that incited such a frenzy within you.

“Your handkerchief, sir, you dropped it.” You explained, nerves making you spit your words out.

Thomas smiled kindly, his face looking warm and inviting. This was the closest you’d ever been to him, aside from occasionally brushing shoulders.

“Why thank you- I’m terribly sorry, your name escapes me, miss.” He answered politely, taking his handkerchief from your hand. Fingers ghosted over each other as you exchanged the fabric.

“It’s Y/N L/N, sir.” A hint of heat graced your face at telling him your name. It seemed so intimate to finally be known to the object of your devotion.

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss L/N.”

He took your hand and raised it to his lips, planting a gentle kiss upon it. Your skin tingled at his touch.

“And thank you for returning my handkerchief. You are pure of soul, I can tell.” He murmured the end of his sentence in such a way that it seemed like he didn’t want anyone to hear. Something in the way he said ‘pure’ created a sense of shame within you. How mistaken he was to think you were pure, or that your intentions to return his handkerchief were out of godly kindness. Yet, his praise felt good.

“Thank you, sir.” You whispered, shyness taking away your voice.

Thomas gave a nod and a hint of a smirk tugged at his lips.

“Good day, Miss L/N” Was all he uttered before walking on, holding the limp handkerchief in one hand.

You stood, dumbfounded at the interaction. Finally, he had recognized you, spoken to you, looked at you with an intensity which signaled more than politeness. Thomas had kissed your hand, and the spot where his lips had met your skin seemed to burn. His words would have been enough, yet he had given more. And you couldn’t help but think there was a reason for this.

You wondered, whilst walking back to your house with your mother, if maybe he was thinking in the same way as you?

****

A few days later, your mother had sent you to collect mushrooms. Supplies were becoming scarce as winter tightened its grip on the weather. You agreed, gathering up a basket and heading out into the chill. This chore posed an opportunity: there were many mushrooms dotted about the trees surrounding Thomas’s home. So, that’s exactly where you headed.

Multiple growths of mushrooms huddled at the bases of trees. You crouched and plucked them, setting them into the wicker basket. All the while, you chanced looks at Thomas’s house. It was much grander than your own, and much larger. Plus, it had several windows, opening his home to your prying eyes. An occasional shadow of a figure would glide by a window, making you stare intently to try and see if it was Thomas.

Still kneeling on the damp ground, your back ached from being bent over and gathering mushrooms for so long. At least your mother would be happy with the bounty you had collected.

“Miss L/N!” That distinct, smooth voice sounded out. Scrambling to your feet, you turned to see Thomas walking over, hands held behind his back. You hastily brushed the dirt off your dress.

“What are you doing out here, Y/N, on such a cold day?” He questioned, close to you in the small grove of trees.

“Collecting mushrooms, sir. My apologies if I have trespassed, you may take what I have collected.” You replied, fearing you had angered him by plundering the mushrooms surrounding his land.

Thomas laughed lowly, shaking his head.

“Do not fret, I will not take your hard-earned crop from you. I was more concerned about you catching a chill.” The mist from your breathes combined into a single cloud. He was a half arms reach from you, your back against a tree. For once, you felt afraid of him but this fear didn’t make you want to run. It was an excitable fear that was tugging at your lower stomach.

Thomas reached out to take your hand.

“You are cold, your fingers are like ice!” He ran his fingers over your own, attempting to warm them but instead causing heat to rise on your cheeks.

“Please, come in for a while so you don’t catch your death out here.” He continued, still holding your hand.

“I-if you insist, sir.” Words caught in your throat like dry food. His touch, his invitation, all of these things sent your heart thrumming. His grey eyes looked deeply into your own. It was now you recognized how much taller he was then you, towering over your frame. He could do whatever he wanted with you, if he so pleased, and you would be powerless to stop him.

“I do insist, and you would be wise to obey me.” He leant in close to you, whispering for you to be obedient to him. The knot in your lower stomach tightened upon hearing him command you in such a way. He drew back, still holding your hand, and led you to his house.

****

Sitting at one of the intricately carved chairs at his table, you warmed your hands around a cup of tea. Thomas stood in front of the fire, leaning against the wall.

“Tell me, Miss L/N, why is it that you do not have a suitor? A pretty, pure girl such as you should be wedded by now.” He asked, casting a questioning eye over you.

You nearly choked on a sip of tea. That was an incredibly personal and inappropriate question for an older man to be asking you, a twenty year old girl.

“W-well, my mother has not found someone she wishes me to marry, sir. And, quite honestly, the number of suitable men in our town is low.” You responded, trying not to keep tracing your gaze over his form. He looked even better now that you were closer to him, taking in his clothes that probably cost more than your house.

Thomas chuckled.

“So, you are telling me there is no man in this village you wish to wed?” He came to settle in a chair opposite you. Feeling your cheeks redden, you investigated the cup. You pondered whether to hint that there was one man you would wish to wed.

“There is one, I suppose. But alas, he is too high of status and much too old for me.” You kept your answer as vague as possibly, not letting your eyes give away who this man was.

“Hmm, I see. He would be a lucky man, to wed a girl as pure as you. A very lucky man.” Thomas’s voice had grown lower, deeper. You glanced up to see that he was looking at you with an intense gaze. Laughing nervously, you shook your head.

“I would not go as far to call myself that, sir.”

He leant back in his chair.

“And why would that be? Is it that you have already given yourself up to a man without being wedded?” There was a hint of lust underpinning his voice as he spoke.

“No! I am saving myself for marriage, as a woman must do.” Embarrassment overtook you. Here he was, the man you had thought so sinfully about, asking if you had lost your purity already. Thomas gave a ‘hmm’ of thought.

“Well, if this man you wish to wed was to ask you to do such an act, would you?” Thomas had figured you out. He knew. Maybe he had known all along, having caught you staring at him during church. Or possibly he was like Pastor Walter, who appeared to be able to read minds.

“I-I would, sir. But only for this man, no other.” You answered meekly, afraid that he would condemn you for such a confession.

“For this man, you would let him deflower your purity? A lucky man indeed.” His voice was so low now, either from fear of being heard or for another, more sinful, reason. You laughed nervously once again.

“May I ask who this man is? Perhaps I should tell him. A meek little girl like you would hardly be able to confess such a thing yourself.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t just bluntly say that it was him who you wanted to deflower you. Yet, your silence seemed to do all the talking needed.

“I see. This man you speak of is me.” Thomas got up from his chair and walked slowly around to come to stand behind you. You sat dumbly, not knowing what to say or do, frozen in a mixture of fear and aroused excitement.

“I do think, Miss L/N, that you are less pure than you appear. Lusting after a man such as myself, widowed and older than you, is a sin. A sin I didn’t think you would be capable of committing. What would your mother say if she knew you harbored such thoughts, hm?” He whispered into your ear, one arm resting across the back on the chair, caging you in.

“Sir, I-I would not be able to face my mother, if she knew.” You murmured, crossing your legs, and shifting in the chair. His hand rested against your knee.

“Then perhaps you should make a deal with me. Let me take your purity, and I will only tell your mother than I wish to be a suitor. I will not tell her of the sinful indulgence we shall commit. However, if you do not accept this deal, I shall tell her you threw yourself upon me, like the little harlot I know you are within.” His lips grazed the skin of your neck as he spoke. You couldn’t believe what he was saying. This man, the one you had lusted after and longed for, was proposing you not only give up your virginity, but that he would be a suitor. If you had an ounce of faith within your being, you would be thanking God for this.

“Yes, sir, I accept your deal.” You finally answered, feeling his lips come to kiss your neck.

“Good. I like a girl who is as obedient as you.” He mumbled against your skin, pressing more kisses along your throat. He grasped your arm and pulled you to your feet, making the chair fall to the floor. His hand gripped your hair pulling your head back before he pressed his lips against your own. He kissed hungrily, exploring your mouth which had never felt another’s lips or tongue against it. You found yourself holding onto his shirt, his hair, pulling him in as close as possible. The knot that had been building in your stomach began to burn with desire.

Thomas led you to his room, barely able to take his hands off the curves of your body for more than a moment. Closing the door behind you both, he attacked your neck again, kissing and nipping it with a passion you had never known. You felt a moan escape your lips.

“Filthy harlot, making such sounds. Have you any idea how much you stir the devil within me?” Thomas hissed, appearing both angry and lustful.

“You awaken my deepest sins too, sir.” You responded breathily as his fingers began nimbly undoing your dress. Yanking it off you, he took in the sight of your body.

“A temptress indeed.” He muttered to himself before grabbing your arm and leading you to the bed. He sat and practically tossed you over his legs. “A temptress deserving of punishment.”

You were confused as to what he was doing until you felt the sharp slap of his hand against your ass. You let out a cry of pain. No sooner as you felt the stinging begin to die down, another slap hit you. His hand paused from punishing you to run over your smooth skin, his fingers grazing your inner thighs. You prayed he didn’t feel your wetness begin leaking out.

“You’ve never had a man punish you before? No wonder you think so sinfully. I should have done this long before now.” Thomas seethed, seeming enraged at you. Another quick succession of slaps abused your now bruised skin. You could feel his length hard and throbbing against your stomach. He was getting aroused by punishing you, for using you for his pleasure.

Fingers swiped against your wet entrance, teasing the folds. You shivered, longing to feel him inside you just as you had imagined on many a night in your bed.

“So wet for me already, are you, Miss L/N?” Thomas purred. Suddenly, he forced two fingers into your tight cunt, making you gasp and moan. You felt so full, being used to only your fingers exploring your insides. Thomas curled his fingers deep into you, massaging the bundle of nerves within you. A series of deep groans escaped your lips, including his name. This spurred him on to violate your more, thrusting his fingers in and out of you, feeling your wetness soaking his hand. You pressed back against his fingers, wanting them deeper, stretching out your walls. He pressed a hand firmly on you back.

“Eager slut, already hungry for me. If you are going to be so lustful, I may as well match your sinfulness. Get up.” He yanked on your hair to make you stand. Drinking in the sight of him, hair disheveled from your wandering hands, as he removed his shirt and trousers. His length was straining against his underwear, a damp patch of precum staining it. In an instant he had you thrown onto the bed, once again towering over you.

His lips found yours again, kissing you as his hands wandered over your untouched form. Groping at your breasts, you moaned into his mouth, feeling his fingers pinch your hard nipples. Feeling daring, you trailed a tentative hand down his chest, before rubbing his cock through its confines.

“Mm, I wouldn’t expect a virgin to be so bold.” He whispered, his fingers finding your cunt again, rubbing circles around your clit.

“I am eager to please you, sir and have you take me as your own.”

Your words seemed to awaken some unlocked desire, an untapped well of feverish lust within Thomas as his kissing became aggressive.

“I took you as my own as soon as my lips grazed your hand, Y/N. I would not let another man take what is mine.” He said breathlessly, pulling back from you, eyes gazing down at your form.

“Then take me. Make me as impure as my mind is.” You whispered to him, admiring the view of his almost naked form on top of you.

Yanking his underwear off, he lined his now dripping cock up with your virgin cunt. The tip brushed against your folds, tantalizing you. Without any warning, he pushed in, filling you up more than you had ever imagined. Your walls stung as they stretched to accommodate his significant length and girth, making you dig your nails into his back as you grasped onto him.

“You’re so damn tight.” Thomas hissed animalistically, beginning to kiss your neck again, biting at your skin. You moaned at the sensation of his teeth on you flesh and his cock stretching you out. He thrusted harshly, nearly entirely withdrawing before slamming back in, smacking up against your cervix. One hand gripped his arm, another gripped the sheets as he pounded you, moaning and cursing you for bringing a man of God to his knees. Filth falls from his lips, saying how good your cunt feels as it wraps tightly around him, sucking him dry.

Each thrust is intense as Thomas pulls out and then shoves himself back in, balls deep and filling you with his length. Your breath became labored, the initial pain of being split open being replaced with a pleasure you ironically see as heavenly. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you open up more of yourself for him to pillaged. Thomas, feeling you pulling him deeper, pins you down with one hand on your throat.

“You want me deeper in you? I’ll show you how deep I can go.”

With one swift motion, Thomas withdraws from your pulsing cunt, and flips you onto your front. He guides himself into once again, a hand on the small of your back as his length fills you up. The pace picks up again, his balls slapping your clit and causing goosebumps to pucker all over your body. Your cries of absolute pleasure are loud enough to rouse the dead, as you keep on begging him for more. You feel that sinful knot starting to come undone, heat burning your body like the fires of hell, your heart racing and knuckles white as they grip the sheets. The bed frame shrieks at the intensity of Thomas’s thrusts, as he pounds you, his hips colliding with your ass with loud smacks.

“Thomas, I think I’m c-close.” You choke out, pressing your chest against the bed, spreading yourself wider for him. The sight of you presenting yourself in such a way unleashes the devil within his god-fearing soul. Grasping your hips, his nails biting into you, he fucks you with slow, hard pumps, savoring the sensation of you clenching around his length as your climax approaches.

“Release your sin, Y/N. You’re mine now.”

With those words, you feel yourself come undone, the heat that had been building within you pouring out as liquid which oozes between your thighs and all over Thomas’s cock. Your calls of his name make him groan, having you praising him for bringing you such divine pleasure.

“You want me to truly claim you, Y/N? Will you let me fill you with my seed?” He asks, panting softly. Fucked out beyond belief, all you can manage is a weak nod. A hand grasps your hair, shoving your face into the sheets as he spurts hot, thick ropes of cum into your awaiting insides. You feel so full as he fucks his load into you, not wanting to withdraw just yet. Finally finished, he pulls out, watching as his seed drips from your arousal, tainted with virginal blood from your freshly torn hymen.

“Y/N.” Thomas whispers as he lays beside you, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You are mine now, forever.”

Resting your head upon his chest, you smile.

“I couldn’t ask for any sweeter words to be said.”

****

There came a knock upon your door. Before you could answer it, your mother had bustled over, wiping her hands on her skirt. She opened the door to the tall figure of Thomas.

“Mrs L/N, may I be so bold to ask to court your daughter, Y/N?”

[risenwrites]

A/n: Today has been an angsty day for me, so have an angsty comfort drabble featuring Law and me because I want him to comfort me jsjdjdjc Sorry if it's not great lol (also I might have gotten carried away 😅)

Law had long since grown accustomed to the midnight sounds of the Polar Tang. The noises of whirling machinery and creatures swimming by deep in the ocean. However, tonight, he heard the sound of soft sobs bounce off the metal walls.

He lifted his head from the books and papers on his desk. His eyes narrowed in confusion momentarily before he stood up from his desk to investigate. He dropped the papers in his hand and then walked to his room's door. Without much effort, he pushed open the metal door and stepped out into the hallway.

The sounds of sobbing became slightly louder, and now he could pinpoint where the sound was coming from. He began walking down the hallways, twisting and turning until he reached a metal door—the door of the room belonging to the newest member of the Heart Pirates.

Law hesitated momentarily, unsure if he should pry into whatever upset his crew member. He honestly wasn't even sure why he'd come to investigate, now that he thought about it. Still, something compelled him to knock on the metal door.

The sobbing suddenly became quiet and muffled. Soon, the door opened to reveal the small form of Risen. Her eyes were red, and there were tear stains on her cheeks. She quickly began rubbing her eyes as if trying to hide the fact she'd been crying.

"O-oh... h-hello, captain," she greeted quietly with a small bow of her head. "Do... do y-you need something?"

Law froze in place for a moment while staring down at her. Her clothes were loose and practically sliding off her, given how much he could see of her shoulders. The fact she wasn't wearing a bra didn't go unnoticed by him either. He sucked in his breath and narrowed his eyes at her, noticing how that made her flinch and squeak. Her gaze moved to the side while she fiddled with her fingers.

"... Cute," Law thought.

"I heard crying, and found myself here," he answered. "Is... everything okay?"

Risen chewed the inside of her bottom lip, hesitating momentarily before nodding. "Y-yeah... e-everything's fine."

Law raised an eyebrow. "You're a terrible liar," he commented with the corners of his mouth twitching into a slight smirk. Risen laughed weakly and nodded in agreement while looking down at her feet.

"Y-yeah... I know," she said weakly. "E-even if I wasn't, nothing g-gets past you, captain."

Law couldn't hold back the small smile appearing on his face from hearing that. That quickly disappeared when Risen lifted her head with a weak smile. She sniffled softly and rubbed her eyes again.

"I just... couldn't sleep and w-was thinking a-about stuff. Sad stuff a-and what-if scenarios about... bad things happening. I-It happens sometimes. You don't need to worry about it," she explained, seeming on the verge of tears again but holding back for some reason. "S-sorry if I-I b-bothered you. I was t-trying to be quiet..."

Law shook his head, frowning slightly. "You apologize too much," he said with a sigh. He was quiet for a moment before sighing again in minor irritation. "I'm generally up this late most nights, so if you're up late like this again, come talk to me. I'll give you some medicine to help you sleep," he explained.

Risen's eyes slowly widened, and she blinked owlishly a few times, causing some tears to fall from her eyes. She pressed her lips together and gave a curt nod of understanding. Both of them were silent for a couple moments.

"... It's normal to cry, Risen-ya. You only make things harder for yourself by holding it in," Law suddenly said, starting to turn away. "I'll go grab you water and something to help you sleep."

Law started to walk back down the hallway but stopped when he felt a tug on his sleeve. He looked over his shoulder to see Risen looking up at him with watery eyes. She swallowed hard and glanced away awkwardly for a moment.

"I-I know this r-request is p-probably u-unprofessional and inappropriate, but..." she hesitated momentarily. "Can... can I have a hug?"

Law's eyes widened as he stared down at her. He froze in place while trying to figure out what would be the best option for him in this situation. The idea of physical contact did not sound fun, but at the same time, he felt his heart squeeze at the sight of her. After a moment, he sighed and slowly turned around while pulling Risen toward him. He hesitantly wrapped an arm around her waist while resting her head against his chest.

"Don't breathe a word of this to anyone, understand?" Law said under his breath.

Risen stiffened when Law hugged her, but she quickly recovered and wrapped her arms around him. She slowly smiled while closing her eyes. Her hands tightly held fistfuls of the back of his shirt in her small hands. More tears started rolling down her face as she listened to his heartbeat, happy to hear the sound of life.

Law could slowly feel warmth rising in his cheeks the longer she hugged him. After a little while, he sighed and gently tried to pull away from hugging her.

"Alright, that's enough, let me-" he began to say but stopped short when he realized Risen had fallen asleep against him. He swallowed hard while staring down at her. With a heavy sigh, he gently picked her up in a bridal carry and brought her back inside her room. He placed her down on the bed and pulled a blanket over her.

"You're really too trusting, Risen-ya," he mumbled.

Law hesitated, then gently brushed some hair out of her face. He stared at her briefly before walking out of her room. He glanced back at her before slowly closing the metal door to let her sleep.

©following works belongs to risenwrites, do not repost, modify, plagiarize, translate, or share on other platforms. comments, likes, and reblogs appreciated!

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

White blossoms - Chapter 8

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Pairing: Melot x OFC (Tamsyn)

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Angst, some more angst. Shenanigans. Historical inaccuracies, probably.

@deandoesthingstome @ellethespaceunicorn @peaches1958 @peyton-warren @summersong69 @mayloma @livisss @geralts-yenn @sillyrabbit81

It was the agonizing pain in your shoulder and leg that awoke you from your slumber, and the scalding heat that soared within your body that prevented you from drifting off again, yet despite your efforts, your eyes did not open. You were only vaguely aware of your surroundings: you were lying on a bed, a blanket draped over the lower half of your body, and two voices in animated conversation relatively close to you. One of these voices belonged to Tristan, the other… your mother. You were home! You had made it! With that realization, there came no triumphant feeling, no sense of victory, or even a glimmer of hope, for the fever surged through your body once again, this time pulling you under and swallowing you into the darkness.

When you regained consciousness, the bickering had stopped, as had the roaring fires that had scorched your body from the inside out. The significant pain in your chest and leg seemed to also have subsided quite a bit, but in no way enough to put you out of your misery completely. The most comforting sensation, however, was the soft, beautiful singing next to you – presumably coming from the same person that pressed something warm and damp to your wounds. The pain it caused made you wince, and your brows draw together in a frown, both form agony and confusion.

Very slowly, you opened your eyes, the light in the room – as dim as it was – uncomfortable at first, to such an extent that it was impossible to see anything for a short while.

“Melot?” That voice. You had dreamt of that voice countless times since you had left, and now you finally heard it again. Tamsyn. There was nothing in that moment that you wanted more than to pick her up and hold her in your arms as you promised her you would never leave her side again – the problem was that you couldn’t seem to move no matter how hard you tried. It took every bit of strength you had in your body to smile as she called your name again, and then your eyelids fell shut again as she continued to tend to your wounds.

“Is he awake?” you heard your mother ask from a corner of the room.

“His eyes were open,” Tamsyn replied, “but only briefly. We should let him rest.” And rest you did, always in your dreams kept company by memories of your soon-to-be wife.

“I am terribly sorry we have to meet like this,” you said, startling her as you came up behind her.

“There is no need to apologize, my lord,” she said timidly, “I understand.” As soon as she moved to curtsy, you placed your finger gently beneath her chin and tilted her head up towards yours.

“Please don’t bow to me,” you spoke softly as you looked into her eyes. They were large, and a stunning shade of brown, you noticed, and they looked absolutely perfect combined with the collection of freckles on her nose and cheeks.

“As you wish, my lord,” she replied. Her words made you sigh, a sound which seemed to instil fear in the young woman.

“Call me Melot,” you asked her, smiling kindly as she repeated your name, her voice trembling slightly as she skipped your title for the first time. After that, neither of you spoke for a while. It felt silly, to stand there and say nothing, but you felt so utterly unsure of what to do, that words eluded you completely.

“Say something, please,” you said after a while, a low chuckle to your voice so as to hide your embarrassment at your inability to keep a conversation with the lady in your company.

“You have a beautiful horse,” Tamsyn blurted out, taken aback by your request. Her remark made you laugh louder, causing her cheeks to turn pink.

“She is, isn’t she,” you replied, happy to engage in whatever conversation that would stave off your nerves at this time.

“Is she yours?” Tamsyn inquired.

“She is,” you said, explaining how you had raised her over the course of the past four years. “Do you ride?”

“Oh, not if I can avoid it,” she said shyly, avoiding your eyes as she confessed: “I’m rather useless at it.”

From that moment on, each conversation you had with her was slightly easier than the one before, and after only a short while, you had found yourself reaching for her hand as you walked through the woods together. You were careful not to be seen, but it turned out to be impossible to hide from your friends – which is why you decided not to try. It took a few weeks of secret meetings before you dared to broach the subject of Tamsyn with your uncle, who at first rejected the notion of your courting a peasant girl wholeheartedly. It wasn’t until, through some fortuitous twist of fate – which, in your life, most often carried the name ‘Beryan’ – Tamsyn had been asked to sing at a feast in the castle, that the king learned of her beauty and talent, and he had granted you his blessing to court the young woman.

That morning you were taking care of some chores around the house that you had fallen behind on as you continued to help Yselle with the injured men. A week had passed since the warriors had returned, but Melot had yet to wake up. A few times he had opened his eyes, or he had moved his fingers slightly as you tended to his wounds, but he was never able to speak or move. The most you had received from him so far was a smile that had cost him more effort than it had been worth. Every day, you saw him twice. His mother still disallowed you access to his chambers for reasons beyond caring for him. It irked you, but only slightly, for as much as you longed to sit by his side all day and care for him, you knew it would be improper for you to do so. Thus, you decided not to push the matter, as lady Rhian was already nearly continuously occupied with the strenuous task of keeping Beryan away from her son. Beryan, on the other hand, grew more agitated about the situation with every passing day, snapping at you every time you visited her to tell her how he was doing.

“I can’t believe she refuses to let me see him for a minute!” she shouted as she paced through the corridor outside his room after having been shown the door for what must be the hundredth time.

“Young lady!” The door opened again, and lady Rhian poked her head around it to glare at Beryan. “I would strongly suggest you mind your manners! Make yourself scarce, now!”

“Can I stand in the doorway?”

“No,” lady Rhian snapped. “I have been far too patient with you, Beryan. Disappear, immediately!” You assured Beryan that Melot was going to be alright; that his wounds were healing nicely, and his temperature had returned to normal. It was strange, offering her this comfort while you yourself dreaded the moment his injuries no longer required you to check on them daily. You were certain lady Rhian would banish you from his quarters the moment your services as a healer were no longer required. As unhappy as you would be about not getting to see him anymore, you knew you would not complain: Melot’s mother was indulging you already, it would be foolish to tempt the fates.

While you worked on cleaning and dressing his wounds, you sang to him, as you always did. So far, he had opened his eyes twice, but neither of those times had he been conscious enough to reply to your or his mother’s queries. Other times, he had been conscious, but too weak or in too much pain to speak. This time, after applying the compress to his leg, you took his hand, softly caressing it as you finished your song.

“Please, continue.” Were you imagining things? Upon looking at Melot’s face, you concluded you must have been. His eyes were closed, and he looked as fast asleep as he had all these days before.

“Tamsyn, please.” This time, you witnessed the movement of his lips, though that did nothing to erase your conviction that you were slowly going mad.

“Did he just speak?” lady Rhian asked as she joined you by Melot’s bed. If she had heard it, too... The chances of you both seeing – or rather, hearing – ghosts were slim.

“I did,” he answered, his eyes still closed. You looked at lady Rhian as you felt Melot’s fingers squeeze your hand lightly. To stay put and not throw your arms around his bare shoulders to pull him close, took every bit of strength you had within you. Instead, you tightened your grip on his hand, gently dragging your thumb over the back of it, as you started singing again. Melot hummed contently, making no further efforts to speak. You watched his face while you sang, your smile widening as his eyes slowly opened.

Your singing continued as you waited for the poultices to do their work. Now that he was awake, taking care of his wounds would likely cause him more pain than it had before, when he had still been unconscious, and you dreaded the moment you would have to salve his injuries.

“God almighty, dear, I shall be glad to call you family,” lady Rhian said softly, putting a hand to the side of her son’s face, her voice breaking as she spoke to him. “My son, I was scared I had lost you for good this time.”

“Only the good die young, mother,” he said, his voice hoarse. Lady Rhian took a cup you knew to be filled with the willow bark infusion you had instructed her to make, and lifted it to his lips. As he swallowed a sip, he grimaced.

“That is absolutely foul,” he groaned.

“Shush, it’s good for you,” you berated him, swatting at the back of his hand.

“God, you women are all the same, aren’t you?” he complained – fruitlessly, of course.

You removed the compresses from his wounds after some time, and as you had expected, he winced and moaned every time you touched him.

“Melot! Stop moving right this moment!” you exclaimed after he had turned away from your touch for the so-manieth time as you tried to apply ointment to his wounds. “You are making this impossible! Stop!”

From the other side of his bed, his mother chuckled softly. “You will make a fine wife, my dear child.”

Melot continued his whining as you finished with his leg, and somehow managed to be even worse about the wound on his chest. Eventually you managed to dress his wound – if it hadn’t hurt him so much, perhaps you would have dragged it out a bit so that you may have had the chance to speak with him for a while longer. You began to gather your things, getting ready to leave, while lady Rhian walked to the door to investigate a noise she heard in the hallway. A noise that turned out to come from Gerant, Elowen and Tristan, who had come to check on Melot. Lady Rhian invited them into the room, and you hoped with all your heart that Beryan couldn’t see it.

“Sit with him while I fetch his uncle,” she said, taking your hand in hers for a moment before disappearing into the corridor.

“Kiss her, you fool!” Gerant hissed after he shut the door behind Melot’s mother and listened for her footsteps to disappear into the distance. Melot tried to get up, but you placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back onto his bed, leaning in to kiss him, instead. When your lips touched, something inside of you felt like it was finally home again; as if after many weeks of floating around in the air, your feet touched the ground at last. You heard the door open again and pulled away from Melot abruptly, thinking you were done for. Oh, if the king were to see you like this! Luckily, it wasn’t lady Rhian who had returned with king Marke, but rather Beryan, who had finally been given her chance to sneak into the room to see her friend.

“Mely!” she said – probably without thinking, because Melot scowled at her and Gerant and Tristan snickered.

“Did she just call him Mely?” Tristan asked his friend, who answered his question affirmatively.

“Dear God, you look awful,” she said as she sank to her knees next to the bed.

“You sound surprised,” Melot rasped, his voice as hoarse as before, but now even weaker, signalling that he was growing tired.

“Your mother wouldn’t let me see you,” she explained.

“And I still do not permit it!” Everybody in the room froze as they heard the voice behind them. “You, young lady, cannot be in my son’s bedchamber unattended, especially when he isn’t properly dressed!”

“Mother,” Tristan interjected before anyone else could, “might I call to your attention the fact that you invited Gerant and his wife into the room with us to act as chaperones?” His remark seemed to calm lady Rhian a bit, though she was still fuming at seeing Beryan in the room. Behind her stood king Marke, equally upset at the display before his eyes.

“Get out of here, now, lady Beryan,” he spoke slowly, “and I will tell no one of this. You will not see my nephew again until he is out of this room, understood?” “Yes, your Majesty,” she said timidly as she bowed to the king and hurried out of the room.