#also rip the last one they barely made it within the same square

[zelkam]

— the untamed (2019), episode 27

[0ghostwriter0]

It's You

A/N this is part two but part one is here

MASTERLIST

Pairings: Henry Cavill x reader

Word count: 1,638

Warnings: Smut also this is my first time writing smut so ahhh

Summary: You and Henry are finally single do you have a shot?

From the outside, this house looks lavish. It has been built with wood covered in render and has white pine wooden decorations. Tall, squared windows allow enough light to enter the home and have been added to the house in a mostly asymmetric way. The Autumn breeze had scooped a last lake of leaves around the grand front door. Still scooped in Henry’s arms, you nuzzled closer to protect you from the sharp air. As you were carried down the small concrete path, Henry reluctantly let your small frame back on the ground to retrieve a clump of assorted keys.

From the inside, the vast entryway was silent before a bounding bear attacked your shaking knees. Grinning widely, you bent down to pat his fluffy belly. Behind you, Henry admired the new sight before him as he slowly removed a jet black leather jacket. Placing the jacket on the coat hooks to his right, Henry drop his keys on the sideboard. The sudden clink made you jump to stand up straight much to Henry’s disappointment. Swiftly, moving to greet his pal, Henry amused the energetic Akita with hasty cuddles.

“Now Kal, I need to borrow your friend and I’ll get her back to you later” Henry cooed to the bear as he guided him into the living room. Now residing behind Henry, you started to fumble with the hem of your skater skirt. Suddenly panicking, you remembered how press follow you everywhere as well as Henry which meant they could be outside now. Swinging around to face the door, your soft trembling turned into shaking.

Pulling you out of thought, Henry snaked his arms around you from behind and brought his mouth teasingly to your ear. The warm breath sent shivers to your core. You feel safe yet completely exposed at the same time. Bitting your lip gently, your body falls into the deep musk of the burly man. All insecurities flow out of your body like a wave of relief.

“Henry, I… I think I’ve.. urm” your fear of relationships after your ex had only worsened but you needed this. He could tell you had reservations about commencing a relationship more than friends as it could risk all you’d built together. Relinquishing you from his grasp, Henry swirled you around like an eloquent ice skater.

“We can talk and I’ll fix you some breakfast or coffee,” Henry spoke softly while lifting your chin. Fixating on his warm honey eyes, you tried to nod but his warm hand restricted the movement of your chin. He chuckled softly before heading across the vast hallway to a neatly kept kitchen. Being the perfect house guest, you slipped off your dainty ballerina pumps. Carefully and cautiously, you feet followed the ghost of henry’s movements. Along the way you smiled as you spotted his discarded timberland boots.

Allured by the sweet sent of freshly ground coffee, you realised that he must have anticipated that you’d agree to come home with him. He knew how your mind worked and it drove you crazy. Like a mouse you creeped up behind the work of god. Unfortunately, you were caught by a smirking Henry rest beside two freshly made coffees. Mercilessly, the muscular adonis ravished your neck with sweet pecks.

“I need to sa- mmmm” melting into the sensual act, your words were swapped with delightful whimpers. The sweet noise halted as Henry loomed over your clavicle; gracefully, his eager hand was stroking small circles to the small of your back.

“I think that I have feelings for you… urm like not friends…like more int-“ pausing when the graze of Henry’s voluptuous lips were just within reach, your mind was racing- burning like the soft spot that sat between you legs.

“Think or know?” His husky tone sparked an exquisite roaring flame in the depths of your womb. To build up your courage, you pressed your foreheads together like a mating lioness.

“I know… and I need you,” Henry growls in at your answer like a prima mate. Desperately, the husky animal ambushed your pillow lips as your bodies yearn for each other. You hum as his hands pull your body to cling to him. Gasping softly as he sucks on your bottom lip, you moth gapes open allowing a perfect passage for Henry’s wandering tongue. God why did you wait so long? His talented lips steal dirty whimper which distracts your senses from the wandering hand which slips beneath your knitted top. Carefully, exploring the roundness of your perky breasts, Henry growled at meeting your erect nipples. His member grew painful hard. You’d both waited a long time.

“Bed!” You mewled. Of which he hastily complied as he rushed you up the hard oak staircase. With each step of the stairs, you felt the overwhelming bulge of Henry’s desire. Colliding with the closed door, your kissed grew desperate as Henry forcefully broke open the door. This man. The hard tent in his pants jerked into your clothed core. Frantically, Henry threw you on to the quilted four-post bed. When you get back to this moment again, your sure he’ll utilise all four posts. Sensually, Henry hovers over your lower half as he slips down the suede skater skirt. You breath hitches as his warm breath attacks your exposed upper thighs.

Trailing up to your apex, Henry litters you with butterfly kisses while using his soft claws to kneed your breasts. Impatient and aroused, you discard your knitted top and comfy bra. Grinning mischievously, Henry parts your soaked panties and dips the tip of his tongue into the river of arousal between your lower lips. While you moan for him, he plunged deeper to draw out his name from your lips.

Momentarily, Henry removes his experienced tongue to free your tilt from the constraints of your soaking knickers. Rip. The dark lace broke under the needy hands of the roused man but it didn't bother you in the slightest. You needed to replace the overwhelming pleasure that was once captivating your entrance. Henry watched greedily as you slipped you hand down to the dripping folds and dipped your fingers into the searing heat. A growl released as your whimpering grew stronger with self-pleasure but it was nothing compared to the sensation Henry made you feel. Sinking his own fingers into your arousal, Henry added much-needed friction to your aching mound.

“Ahhhh Hennnnry just mmhmm make love to me” you desperately cried out. Harshly, Henry whipped your fingers from your vagina. If anyone would make you come undone then it would be him and only him. Vigorously, the thick fingers were snapping in and out of the pool of arousal making you edge closer to your apex. Determined and ravenous, Henry continued to piston his digits as he drew himself up the bed to capture your face in a hungry attack. You used this new position to drift your hand over his clothed cock. Gasping slightly, Henry allowed you access to delve into his perfect mouth. Smirking softly, you revelled in the sweet taste of your core which had invaded Henry's mouth. Curling inside you, the skilled fingers knocked you off the edge.

“I'm...” you tried to communicate but your orgasm ripped through you like a hurricane which Henry took advantage of as he's tongue won dominance in your mouth. Drawing out your release, Henry slowed his relentless fingers as your warm juices trickled down his thick fingers. Pulling away slowly, lips barely touching, Henry looked down to admire the mess you'd created because of him. Gently, his digits were removed from your swollen mound and placed in his mouth to taste his triumph. You took this moment to plan you strategy for attack.

“So sweet and hot, imagine that all over my length. I'm going to stuff you so full you can feel me through next week. You-” even though Henry's words made your core tingle in the second run of excitement, you cut him off.

“Make love to me” Henry did not need to be told again. Stripping to show all, Henry made sharp and efficient work of discarding every article of clothing left on the two of you. He leaned in and pressed his pillow lips against yours as he shifted his hands to your back; guiding you under his godly frame, Henry clutched your body against his. With urgency, the Adonis drove his tongue between your lips and plunged it into your mouth which earned a soft moan from your occupied mouth. A playful glint arose from your eye as your wandering hand circulated his pulsing member.

A small gasp rendered from your lips due to the hunger emitted from Henry's attack on your lips. You emulated this with light pressure and slow(ish) strokes of his length. Slowly building speed, you heard a low growl emulating from Henry. Drifting, Henry's hands resume their position to massage your breasts as his hips buck into your faster strokes. Breaking away for air, Henry rested his head at your neck leaving small sensual nips in his wake.

“I need to feel your walls around me, ” his breathy growl tickles your ear in delight. As you already use the pill, you moved immediately to place yourself in a prime position. Removing your hand, Henry guided his extremely hard length to tease you slick entrance. Bucking your hips, you couldn't handle the overwhelming sensation.

“Are you sure?” Henry questioned again as he stared deeply into you eyes. His honey orbs melted your heart. Placing you hands on his cheeks, you pushed a delicious kiss onto his plump lips.

“Yes, ” Pulling away, you looked deep into the eyes of each other as Henry dipped his penis into the pool of pleasure. Both moaning simultaneously, you moved like a finely tuned orchestra- in perfect harmony with one another. This was heaven.

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[bastillewolf]

Corpse's Bride (I)

Pairing: Corpse Husband / Reader

Summary: When you end up in an unfortunate arranged marriage to salvage what is left of your parents’ wealth, it seems fate has other ideas in store for you; or perhaps it was the Devil who decided to bring back the dead?

Notes: Yea, I don’t know why I wrote this either, and no idea where this series is gonna go. If you have any suggestions, please send them. But I wanted to write something for Christmas since I haven’t posted in a while. I hope you all have safe and happy holidays! Let’s just get 2020 over with, please.

Tag list currently closed.

Chapter I - The wedding

Somewhere through the clouds of smoke erupting from the city, just beyond the hills, lies a small town called Gloomington. Where the streets are always swept and yet seem never clean, where birds fly high through the sky yet never manage to reach the clouds, and where dreams are crushed underneath the wheels of creaking carriages and half-empty fish barrels. It might seem like the most boring old town, with its inhabitants that look like they’re either on the brink of death or very much willing to be, but it wasn’t to you. No, to you life appeared much more interesting, though not by your own volition. You did not turn a blind eye to the grey streets or creaking bones or listening ears, as they had always been the same to you, but the troubles you had yet to bear were much too big to focus on anything else.

Your parents had deemed that on your twenty-first birthday, you were finally fit for marriage. It was the age that they had gotten married, and by tradition, through their parents as well. Why they had decided to force this upon you as well, you did not know, for as long as you could remember you’d only ever thought of your parents to be miserable together. Their time with you was now something of the past, however, because if all went well today, you would be married within just a day or two.

It was already raining, which would’ve made the situation so much gloomier to you if you hadn’t been revelling in the fact that it meant you could take the carriage instead of walk. You didn’t mind getting your shoes or the hem of your dress dirty, but other people did. And the people you would be seeing today would not approve of anything that wasn’t perfect upon arrival.

You only remembered the Everglots vaguely from your childhood during the instance when you’d been playing in a similar storm and one of their maids had shooed you away, saying you were being too loud and an unfit view for their folk. Their house was a different story, however. It stood tall above all other houses, even yours, so it was hard to miss. You weren’t rich, even though your parents liked to pretend they were. Your father owned the biggest and only fishing company in town; the main source of income from Gloomington. The thing was though, the seas were being overfished, and all he was getting from the ocean now were ones the sizes of goldfish.

You presumed this is why your parents decided to marry you off to the Everglots’ son, Thomas. According to your nanny, they were a bunch of washed-up aristocrats. Otherwise, you’d never even caught a glimpse of them, let alone of their offspring. Which is probably why you were so nervous. If he was anything like his parents personality-wise, you hoped he at least made up for it on the outside.

“Stop fidgeting,” your mother said, snapping you from your daze. You looked down to your hands, which had been crumpling a bunch of the fabric of your dress together, probably creating creases. You wonder if you had subconsciously done it, simply out of spite, because the nerves had numbed any other senses. You smoothed it out, crossed your legs and folded your hands across your lap, to which your mother gave a pleased nod.

A glance towards your father told you not much else, he was too busy going through last-minute calculations in his notebook. This must seem like ordinary business to him.

Your heart jumped a little as you watched the horse pulling your carriage nearly slip in the mud. He’d been in your family for fifteen years now, it was a wonder he was still standing. Perhaps the whip was reason enough for such a solemn animal, confined to his leather straps and iron mouthpiece. You tugged on the silver chain your mother had draped across your neck. Some of the diamonds had been taken out, but you could only see it if you looked very closely.

The carriage wavered and eventually managed to stop with another crack of the whip. It went almost simultaneously with the clash of thunder.

Hopping out, you looked down to see your polished shoes had landed directly in the biggest puddle on the square.

“Oh, miss, you should’ve let me put my coat down for you,” the old coachman called out, rising from his seat.

Your mother’s unnerving gaze followed yours down to the puddle around your feet. “Yes, you should have. I told you to watch your step with those shoes. Henry, clean them up.”

The coachman then proceeded to lay down his coat in the puddle anyways, and even after your protests continued to polish your shoes with his previously clean white handkerchief. You thanked him when he was finished, to which he tipped his hat.

“Hurry up. We’re already late,” your mother said. You wanted to rip the whip from his hands and hit her with it, but your composure and good sense got the better of you.

The massive doorknocker hit the hardwood three times because of your father’s shaky hand, which seemed to collapse back down to his side immediately after.

To your surprise, no maid opened, but the lady of the house herself did. Missus Everglot looked down upon you with a smile that looked more like a sneer. Her hair was greying, almost to the point where it was white, a colour matching the black dress she wore. Weren’t you supposed to wear colour for a special occasion such as this? You’d been so bold to wear something green; your best dress, to be perfectly honest. Were you supposed to wear black?

“It is good to see you again,” she hummed, and your parents made noises of agreement.

“Our apologies for bringing the bad weather. But that usually means good luck!” Your father said. You all laughed, though mostly out of politeness.

She invited you in, and you were finally able to see the grandeur of the Everglots household. Or well, what was left of it. The unlit fireplaces on either side of the entrance hall made you wonder if they no longer had maids working for them or if they simply enjoyed the cold. There was only one butler you saw so far, the one who took your coats from you and then scurried off. A big staircase stood in front of you, leading two opposite directions upstairs.

“Ah! You must be the daughter we’ve been hearing so much about!” Mister Everglot suddenly appeared, his arms spread wide with the same smile as his wife spread across his pale cheeks. He also wore black, though he bore quite a bit more weight than his wife, almost to the point where the top button of his shirt looked like it wanted to bail ship.

“It’s a true pleasure meeting you, mister Everglot,” you replied quietly, holding out your hand for him to shake. He barely did, before brushing you off to gloat about things to your parents. “You know, we’ve picked out the finest gold for the rings. The blacksmith in town just did a marvellous job on them-“

The ring on your hand felt heavy. It was your grandmothers’, passed down from your mother and onto you. Now you had to bear the burden of a loveless marriage.

Your silent sigh was interrupted by a quiet clearing of someone’s throat.

You looked up to meet the eyes of a dark-haired boy, who was scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. He asked you if he got your name right. You nodded politely.

“Hi, I’m- I’m Thomas. It’s very nice to meet you, miss.”

You huffed in amusement at his stuttering. “I don’t think you have to call me ‘miss’, Thomas. We’ll be married soon.”

He smiled shyly. “I would keep calling you ‘miss’ if you preferred it. Marriage wouldn’t change that for me.”

You stood there, slightly aghast. This boy was nothing like his parents. You wondered who had raised him because as you had been fortunate enough with your nanny, you couldn’t imagine his having been any different.

“Better watch it there, Thomas.” Another man strutted down the stairs behind him. He looked just about as pretentious as mister and missus Everglot. “Don’t want to scare the little lady off there.”

Sykkuno only chuckled, but you could sense that his friend didn’t have the best intentions. He introduced himself after you, “The name’s Barkis. I’m a… good family friend of the Everglots, I suppose.” He kissed your hand, which made you shiver uncomfortably. You tried your best to hide it, instead turning your eyes to meet Thomas’ again. They seemed much brighter in this gloomy place.

At least, that’s what you kept reminding yourself of as you looked at yourself in the mirror, trying to refrain from fainting as your mother kept pulling on the strings of your corset until you were quite certain a few ribs had been broken off in the process.

“Now,” she reminded you, “This will be good for the family. I know you’re an unconventional spitfire, - I don’t know who you got that from – but you shall learn to listen to your husband. It will save your father’s business and his honour, not to mention your dignity.”

You couldn’t breathe, you needed air. Your mother saw the look in your eyes.

“And as a final warning, young lady, if you dare to try to run, you better remind yourself that this family will never take you in again. Not when you come crawling back with not a penny to carry, not with a baby you got from another man. You will be as good as dead to us, if you wouldn’t have already died in some gutter.”

You nodded, “I understand, mother. I just need some air.”

She gave you one last glance, before nodding. She locked the door after she left.

It allowed you to burst through the doors to the Everglots balcony, where outside the rain had thankfully settled a bit to a slight drizzle. But you didn’t care if your dress got wet. You had to untie the knot at your back.

Quickly.

But you couldn’t reach.

You leaned across the railing.

If you could reach a little further-

But your hand slipped, and you felt your feet being thrown the wrong way as you plummeted down the second floor.

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[alj4890]

Hello dear! I have an ask I just recently read TRH book 1 what if we get Liams POV when Riley goes into labor and when he has to make that awful decision. What are his thoughts when Riley passes out and there’s no doctor? Maybe we can find out how they got the door open?

I replayed TRH book 1 & 2 recently, so this ask couldn't have come at a better time 😂. I wonder though if anyone else thinks it was odd that Godfrey was put in charge of installing new security at the Palace. I mean, why wasn't Liam and his King's Guards handling that? I don't know, but those chapters of Riley giving birth are some that hurt me, and only because the poor woman is denied an epidural 😂 I would have Godfrey strung up by his thumbs for causing that and allow Olivia to torture him to her heart's content. But enough of my revenge ideas, let's see what I can do with this for you.

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Masterlist

The Decision

It was too much to comprehend.

One moment, Liam was confronting the man who killed his mother and the next was nothing but chaos and darkness.

Screams rent the air as flashing red lights revealed steel enforced doors dropping down over the ballroom's doors and windows.

Liam knelt beside his wife when he realized she had been knocked down by a panicking guest.

"Are you hurt?" He asked, gently brushing her hair out of her eyes.

"Only my pride." She tried to smile but a painful tightening around her middle struck.

Her eyes widened when she felt a wetness between her legs.

"Liam!" She gripped his arm. "My water broke!"

"What?" He searched through the crowd for their friends. "Now?"

She nodded while breathing through another contraction. "We have to get to the hospital."

"We will." He helped her up. "Let's get you somewhere more comfortable while we get a door open."

"Liam!" Riley doubled over. "I don't want to have our baby in a ballroom filled with people."

"Is there a problem?"

The couple stiffened when they heard Isabella's voice. Her husband Bradshaw smiled at them.

"Our guards would be more than happy to help with the door situation," his smile held a hint of smugness, "as long as your child is betrothed to one of our twins."

Olivia arrived at that moment followed by their other friends.

"Are you saying your guards won't help rescue you without a betrothal?"

"We're in no immediate danger." Bradshaw explained.

"In fact, we're quite comfortable waiting for your pitiful little guards to find a way out." Isabelle added. "No need for us to cross international lines and damage delicate feelings with our more than capable personnel."

"Delicate!" Olivia heaved a deep breath. "We don't need your help to get out of this."

"We don't?" Maxwell asked. He let out an oomph when Olivia elbowed him. "I mean, yeah we don't! This isn't the first time we have been faced with a challenge."

"No steel door will ever convince us that their baby should be forced to be with one of your twins." Drake added.

Olivia beamed at him before turning her fury on the visiting monarchs. "I'll have it opened in no time."

"Yeah!" Maxwell cheered. "Go Nevarkis Ingenuity!"

She rolled her eyes while going to examine the metal door that covered the double doors into the ballroom.

"Oh!" Riley eased back down into a chair. She raised her eyes to Liam's. "They're getting stronger."

He gently rubbed her back. "Have you had any pains this evening?"

"It was all in my back. I thought it was from being on my feet most of the night." She took deep breaths to calm down. "But now--"

The flashing red lights and alarm stopped. The couple turned to see a proud Olivia slip a strange looking quartz bladed dagger back into a garter under her dress.

There was a square shaped hole cut within the wall with numerous wires exposed.

"That's going to be difficult to repair." Maxwell muttered.

Liam could not have cared less about the damage. If Olivia wanted to tunnel underground to get them out, then he would gladly rip up the marble tiles himself.

Riley cried out as a strong contraction struck.

"I need a distraction!" She puffed through the pain.

"How about some music?" Hana asked. "I composed a new piece recently."

"Or we could sing." Maxwell offered. "Any song you'd like."

"We could?" Drake shook his head. "Sorry Brooks, but that's not happening."

"You would deny her a song when she's in labor?" Maxwell's jaw dropped.

"I doubt our singing would help her any." Drake replied. "Might even double her pain."

While his friends bickered, Liam found his thoughts drifting back to the secret chamber they had unearthed less than an hour ago. He slipped his hand into his breast pocket to touch the letter he had discovered.

His mother's words about how much joy he had brought her echoed in his heart. He wished she could have lived to see the type of man he had become. He had tried with everything within him to live up to her expectations. Would she have noticed? What would she think of him as king now? What would her opinion have been on this choice he and Riley were given for an arranged marriage for her grandchild? Would she approve of them wanting to give their baby the right to choose his or her own spouse?

He wished he knew. He wished she was here guiding him in not only capturing her killer but in also knowing what to do for his wife and unborn child. He would have given anything to have her wise counsel once more.

"Hana!" Riley yelled to stop the argument between her three friends. "Please play whatever you like." She glared at Drake. "Someone's voice is getting on my nerves."

Hana hurried over to a piano and began to play a soothing song.

"I'm going to check on the door situation." Liam pressed a kiss to Riley's cheek. "I'll be back in just a moment."

"Hurry, please." She pleaded.

"I'll watch over her." Maxwell promised.

"I'll go check on the door with you." Drake added.

Liam made his way through the crowd, pausing here and there to reassure everyone that they would be out soon.

"Give me a boost." Olivia ordered.

Drake squatted down and linked his fingers together.

Olivia slipped her heels off and placed her foot in his grasp.

"One...two..." He heaved her up in the air, "three!"

Olivia steadied herself and quickly studied the mechanism that had allowed the door to drop. A lock had formed thus causing them to be unable to lift it up.

After poking and prodding with one of her stilettoes, she noticed the thin metal holding the lock in place.

"Bring me down." She ordered.

Drake grunted as he brought her back down. "Next time, stand on my shoulders."

"Did you figure out how to get it open?" Liam asked.

"I think I might be able to weaken the lock with heat and one of my daggers. Once we destroy that, we should be able to lift it." She explained.

"Can't we hotwire it?' Drake asked, gesturing toward the exposed wires.

"Not since I had to cut so many to get the alarms to turn off." She remarked. "I wouldn't be surprised if there is some emergency failsafe in place for an enemy's attack on the wiring. It might even drop another door on us."

Liam ran his hands over his face. "Do whatever you can to get us out of here."

"Good." Olivia nodded towards the bar. "Drake, we will start with the brandy to use for fuel."

Liam shook his head at her plan to start a fire of sorts. He hoped she didn't end up hurting herself in the process. Honestly though, he couldn't seem to focus on what he could do to help get the doors open.

"Your majesty! I don't think I can breathe in here another second!" Penelope grasped his arm while hyperventilating. "I don't do well in enclosed spaces."

"When will we get out of here?" Another noble demanded.

Questions began to be thrown at him as the crowd closed in a circle, trapping him directly in the middle.

"Is Olivia trying to burn us up in here?"

"We're going to die!"

"What are the guards doing to save us?"

"Auvernal's guards will have us out in minutes, if your king agrees." Bradshaw yelled out over the crowd. His smile was the final straw to break Liam's barely restrained temper.

"Enough!" Liam roared. "We are not going to die in here. The guards are doing all they can and Olivia is graciously assisting." His eyes zeroed in on Penelope. "Go sit down to try and calm your breathing. You're in the same ballroom you have danced in for years." He then turned to Auvernal's king. "As for your assistance, it isn't needed at this time."

Bradshaw shrugged his shoulders as if it wasn't a big deal, but his eyes held a deep seeded anger as he looked upon Liam. "If you think your guests wouldn't prefer to get out of here as quickly as they can, then I suppose there is little we can do."

Murmurs rose once more around him. Liam clinched his fists then pushed his way through when he heard Riley call out for him.

Will this night never end?

It was becoming too much for him. The whining of his people, his wife in pain and in need of medical care, his own innate need to chase after Godfrey and make him pay for poisoning his mother...he needed it all to stop for a minute to allow him to think.

"Liam!" Riley had tears falling down her cheeks. "We need to go to the hospital now!"

She gripped his hand as Hana finished the last few notes to her song.

He knelt before her chair. "Olivia has found a way to open the door. We'll soon have you out of here and--"

The sound of metal screeching had everyone turning toward the double doors.

Seeing the steel door go up caused Liam to scoop his wife in his arms and rush toward the exit.

Their friends and guests spilled out after them to only stop short.

Godfrey had installed these same safety measures on every window and exterior door along the first floor.

"Liam?" Riley puffed through another contraction. "What are we going to do?"

"I found a way out of there." Olivia boasted. "I'm certain I can--"

Bradshaw clucked his tongue. "This isn't the same type of door, your grace." He smirked at her. He knocked against the thicker steel door. "My guards could find a way outside to open it, but only if you sign this."

He produced a betrothal contract.

Riley whimpered as she looked at it and then her husband.

"Get. That. Out. Of. My. Face." Liam ordered.

He turned on his heel to take his wife upstairs to their chambers. Once he reached the first step he spoke over his shoulder. "Olivia, we trust you to handle this. Hana, please call Riley's doctor and ask her to meet us here instead of the hospital."

***************

The hours dragged on as they waited. Olivia appeared periodically to vent her frustrations with getting the door to open. Drake, Maxwell, and Hana attempted to keep Riley's spirits up as she endured the ever increasing contractions.

Liam felt absolutely useless. He didn't know what to do to help his wife. He didn't know the first thing of helping a woman give birth. What if there was a complication? What about their child? What if he couldn't clear the baby's airways? What if--"

"Liam?"

He focused on Riley, weakly gripping his hand. "Yes, my love? What can I do?"

"I feel...odd."

Maxwell nudged Liam out of the way to check her blood pressure.

"Where did you find a blood pressure kit?" Drake asked.

"I know it's hard to believe, but Bertrand has high blood pressure." Maxwell winked at his friends. "I can't imagine where his source of stress comes from."

Riley tried to smile at his teasing. She could feel whatever it was pulling her under making every movement feel like it she was wading through quicksand.

Maxwell's smile disappeared. He studied Riley's flushed cheeks and stepped back.

"What is it?" Liam whispered as his friend pulled him away from her bed.

"Her blood pressure is really high right now." Maxwell glanced over his shoulder. "I don't know if that's normal for a woman in labor, but I do know that this is when I would be calling an ambulance if it was Bertrand with this reading."

Liam rubbed his hands over his face. This entire night was one nightmare after another.

"Riley?" Hana shook her by the shoulders. "Riley?!"

Liam rushed back to the bed to see his wife passed out. He took a cold rag and wiped her face, hoping it would bring her back to them.

"Riley?" His voice cracked. "Please, wake up." He looked around at their friends. "What should I do?"

"I don't know." Drake draped his arm along Hana's shoulders when she began to softly cry.

"Keep talking to her." Maxwell jogged out the room. "I'll see about the door!"

Liam turned back toward Riley. He placed his hand on her stomach and could feel the tightening of contractions along with the faint movements of their child.

Riley opened her eyes.

Liam gently cupped her cheek.

"What happened?" She asked.

"You blacked out." He explained. "Your blood pressure--"

Maxwell returned with a frustrated Olivia.

"...short of dynamite, I don't know how I'll--" she stilled when she saw the color drain from Riley's face.

"I think it's happening..." Riley became unconscious once more. Her head dropped back on the pillows.

"We have to get that doctor here now." Liam looked up at Hana. "Any word from her?"

"She is right outside." Hana explained. "And so are Auvernal's guards."

Liam took off out of the room. His long, deliberate strides had him at the balcony overlooking the entryway where the Auvernal monarchs stood talking to some of the guests.

His friends had to nearly run to catch up with him.

Bradshaw looked up and curved his lips. "Trouble, King Liam?"

Isabella snickered. "I hope Queen Riley isn't suffering unnecessarily."

Liam launched himself at the smug king when he brought up the severe pain Riley must be in at this moment.

Shouts from his friends, guests, and the King's Guards drowned out him telling Auvernal's monarch to have his guards break down the door.

"No." Bradshaw's easy smile grew into an evil smirk. "I don't see any reason to have my men do anything like that to help a woman who isn't a part of my country nor one who wishes to ally herself with mine."

"You bastard!" Liam jerked his arm back. His fist formed as he prepared to beat this man within an inch of his life for denying his Riley a doctor.

It took Drake, Maxwell, and Bastien to hold him back from starting a war with Auvernal with a single punch. Olivia and Hana got between the two kings while Isabella merely looked on in glee.

"My wife and child are going to die if I don't get that doctor in here now!" Liam shouted. "And you stand there refusing to--"

"Not refusing!" Bradshaw snapped. "I'm trying to help you." He snapped his fingers and was handed the engagement contract by a nearby Auvernal guard. "Sign this and my men will have your doctor in here within five minutes."

Liam felt all the adrenaline that had rushed through his veins when he tried to punch the man leave his body. He felt not only weak but utterly worthless. He couldn't see any way out of this. He couldn't lose his wife. He couldn't lose the child they had eagerly waited for.

He couldn't get the damn door open without the very people he had grown to loathe these past nine months.

"Liam," Olivia whispered, "it's the only option we have now."

"We'll find a way to break it." Maxwell whispered.

"Yeah," Drake patted his shoulder. "Right now, you need to just accept the deal to get Brooks and the baby some help."

Liam glanced over at Hana to get her advice.

Tears filled her eyes. "I--I know this isn't what you want, but we have no choice."

Liam swallowed and snatched the paper from Bradshaw's hand. He signed the cursed document and tossed it in his face.

"There! Now get that doctor in here before it becomes null and void."

Bradshaw quickly gave the orders for his guards outside to break down the door with a battering ram.

In three minutes, Dr. Ramirez was following Liam up to the royal chambers.

She helped rouse Riley and then guided her through the delivery.

Liam watched in awe as his wife produced the most perfect baby girl he had ever seen.

Tears of joy and immense relief trickled down his cheeks as he held his daughter for the first time.

"I think we should name her Eleanor," Riley said, watching him kiss their little one's forehead, "in honor of your mother."

His eyes practically glowed as he looked upon his wife. "Thank you, my love."

She snuggled her head on his shoulder as they both gazed down at their own miracle.

Liam knew he needed to tell Riley what had happened with Auvernal yet he didn't want to ruin this first moment of them as a family.

He silently vowed as he held his daughter that he would somehow find a way to save her from an arranged marriage.

[wolveria]

Crucible - Ch 2

Pairing: Link x Reader

Prompt: For the Bittersweet Mini Bang!

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, violence, mild body horror, lots of whump, angst with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: Tarrey Town's always full of surprises, but nothing could prepare Link for this one.

AO3

It had started with darkness swirling around the castle, his companions reacting with either fear or determination.

It ended with darkness taking the form of a giant boar, his friends dead, or worse, trapped within the beast itself.

With the Calamity defeated and the darkness banished, the kingdom freed from evil and the princess restored to herself, Link should have been happy. He’d fulfilled his destiny. His purpose. There was nothing left for him to do.

And that was the problem. There was no duty to distract him from the knowledge he’d been a little too weak and a little too late. So many lives lost and a hundred years of monsters roaming the land to butcher and slaughter even more innocents.

All because of Link. How could anyone call him the Hero after that? Yet, they did, and in droves. They celebrated his victory and the return of the princess.

It felt so hollow at times, the appreciation of the people misplaced, that he began to long for the elder Zora who had despised him. That bitter anger had been honest, genuine, and entirely justified. They were kinder to him after he calmed Vah Ruta, and that was the beginning of the end in many ways.

Five long years had passed, in which Link did all he could to aid the princess in rebuilding the kingdom. At least, for the first four years. The last year, all he did was wander Hyrule, revisiting the places he’d been and retracing his path faithfully from start to finish. He was horrified to learn others did the same, an homage of his journey. A dark pilgrimage they mimicked but couldn’t understand.

They stayed in camps and stables. They didn’t huddle for warmth, bellies empty as they tried to survive on nothing but acorns.

They didn’t cower in the darkness as monsters howled nearby. Link had scoured the land of their kind within the first year.

And they didn’t flee from the Stalkers, spotted so far away he could barely see their roving eye. The Guardians had collapsed along with their dark master, and Zelda’s team of scientists were rebuilding them.

Link wanted no part of that. He was purposeless, and so he wandered.

Zelda was worried for him, he knew, especially since their disastrous expedition several weeks earlier. Link didn’t talk about that. Didn’t want to relive the nightmare of that tomb, especially when actual nightmares plagued him every time he laid down to sleep.

So when she suggested he scout the way before the royal procession celebrating the fifth year anniversary of the defeat of the Calamity, Link knew it was busy work. He also didn’t say no.

Which brought him here. Link shaded his face with one hand, lamenting the scorching midday sun. Tarrey Town bustled around him, now a large city where before he’d help build it when it was nothing but dirt. He could hardly believe how much had changed in just five years’ time.

He moved through the crowds, watching as vendors and patrons haggled over prices, dodging to avoid the carts of fruits and vegetables as they sped by. Denizens from all over Hyrule made their home here, and it was one of Link’s favorite things about this place. Gorons stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Gerudo. Rito and Zora, who would normally never interact, were often found doing business together, haggling over their wares or exchanging gossip.

And of course, there were many Hylians. Link blended in amongst them well, unrecognizable to the average townsfolk. He’d grown taller, a late growth-spurt that had hit him just before adulthood. His hair was longer and let down during his travels, and his Champion’s uniform was gone, replaced by a dark Hylian tunic. Even the Master Sword’s scabbard and hilt were wrapped in black cloth so as not to be identified by its extremely recognizable design.

He looked very little like the boy who saved the world, and that was the point.

Link was already tiring—the nightmare hadn’t let him rest long, but then again, he never slept well—so he found a spot to sit by one of the market fountains. Zora children played in the sparkling water, splashing each other and laughing, and he watched them with a faint smile.

The smile turned into a grimace as he rubbed his right forearm. The ever-present ache was strong today, and he stared at the specialized glove he wore. Purah said it would help with the pain, but it didn’t. Link didn’t blame her. No one understood what had happened to him, least of all him, and he’d been there.

Link tried not to let the pain show. The times he had, Zelda would look so heartbroken, and he hated worrying her after everything that had happened to them both—

A splash of cold water hit him in the back. When he looked over his shoulder, the Zora children shrieked with laughter before apologizing and running away. Link’s smile returned. Despite his rough night, he was glad the goddesses hadn’t listened to his prayers. Prayers in which he’d begged the goddesses to end his cursed existence, and do it in a way that would hurt Zelda the least.

It had been a shameful thought, but some part of him wondered how long until he was granted his morbid wish—

Pain shot up his arm, and Link clenched his teeth as he clutched at the offending limb. Another jolt of pain sizzled up his nerves, and it took everything he had not to scream in agony.

He stumbled to his feet, unable to see through the crowds, his vision fuzzy and too bright. Hylia, it was bad this time, and panic rose in his chest. He half-reached for the Sheikah Slate on his hip before he remembered he’d given it to Zelda years ago, and then a third spasm ripped through his arm.

Link closed his eyes when the world spun around him. Perhaps he was getting his wish, after all.

“Stop! Thief!”

It was the only warning Link received before something shoved him hard and he was knocked off his feet. Landing on his back, the air whooshed out of him as his eyes flew open.

The person who had run him down was also in a jumbled pile on the cobblestone, their tattered cloak open and spilling several apples from within.

Link stared at the face within the hood, eyes narrowed and then widening in disbelief. His heart hammered in confused fear, but his limbs remained frozen.

The would-be thief stared back, eyes also wide, before a second shout of thief! was given from somewhere in the crowd.

That got the other Hylian up and moving, sparing a hostile look at Link before taking off at a sprint.

Link was still flat on his ass, mind reeling as he tried to understand the impossible.

The other Hylian… had his face.

“What are you doing!” someone yelled in his direction. Sure enough, an out-of-breath Hylian merchant appeared, identified by the rich clothing he wore and the indignant fury in his eyes. “You’re letting the thief escape!”

Link would have continued to stare dumbly at the merchant, but the truth of those words smacked him square between the eyes. He couldn’t let the strange Hylian get away.

But try as he might, searching through the crowds and using his rusty skills as a tracker to find which way they went, Link lost their trail with embarrassing quickness. He might have been met with failure, but for the first time in as long as he could remember, Link was wide awake. A new determination filled him, a self-appointed quest forming in his mind.

He was so focused on deciding his next steps that Link didn’t notice the pain in his arm had entirely vanished.

Next Chapter

[the-iceni-bitch]

An Early Christmas Gift

Pairing: Surprise (male protag) x Female Reader

Word Count: 5130

Warnings:  Explicit sexual content, explicit language, it’s porn y’all, 18+, SPOILERY CONTENT WARNINGS BELOW THE CUT! PLEASE BE MINDFUL!

A/N: Well ladies, school is slow, I’m off work, and I’m horny, so I have decided to bless you all with my second fic, also a submission in the 2020 Happy Hoeliday’s challenge hosted by the absolutely lovely @stargazingfangirl18​, @donutloverxo​, and @navybrat817​. I wanted to do something a little different with this one, where you don’t find out who your partner is until you get below the cut, like a fun little Christmas surprise. Due to the nature of this fic, there is some content that could be potentially upsetting that would also constitute potential spoilers, the the warnings for those are in the text itself. Please see further notes at the end of the fic and enjoy this little gift from me to you!

“Look honey, they’re perfect!” You exclaimed as you held up the tiny hat and booty set. “Gabi will love them!”

You hadn’t planned on doing any more Christmas shopping, but when your sister called as you were driving around the countryside surrounding Gruyeres to let you know she was pregnant, you knew you had to grab something from one of the adorable shops in the medieval Swiss town.

“Cadeau emballé s'il vous plaît.” You murmured to the shopkeeper as you handed over your payment, and within a few minutes you were walking out of the shop with a beautifully wrapped package, arm in arm with your partner. You were idly chatting about your plans for tomorrow (you’d have to be sure to get up early to ship your gift to Gabi) as you turned down an alleyway on the way back to your inn.

“Ah, fuck.” He murmured as you were halfway down the alley, and suddenly he had you pressed up against the wall with his mouth on yours. You dropped the bag containing your gift in surprise.

He pressed one palm against the small of your back to hold you flush against him while the other held his balance against the stone wall. One of his thighs moved in between your legs and started to edge your wool pencil skirt slowly upward. You got over the surprise quickly and brought your hands up to latch onto his hair as his tongue ran along your lower lip and you moaned into his mouth.

~~~~~~~~WARNING: GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE~~~~~~~~~~

You almost missed the stranger that came up behind him and pressed a gun to his head.

“Que faites-vous?” the man hissed at you. You noticed four more men, two at each end of the alley, starting to move closer and started to sob.

“Qu'est-ce que vous voulez?” You gasped through a steady stream of tears. Your partner’s hands were now raised in supplication as his jaw clenched in a look of frustration.

“Pourquoi me suivez-vous, eh?” The man had now turned his attention to you, since you were the only one saying anything.

“We, we weren’t…” You had now reverted to your native English as you started to sink down the wall, a blubbering mess.

The man stepped forward and trained his gun on you, shifting his balance as he moved.

You ducked under your partner’s arm as you loosened one of the knives sewn into your coat sleeve, caught the wrist of the hand holding the gun, and slashed down his brachial artery.

“Merde!” he shouted, stumbling backwards as blood rushed down his arm. You could hear the other men cursing under their breath as they started to rush you.

You flipped the blade you were holding into your palm, then flung it into the throat of the nearest assailant before shrugging out of your coat. August was already out of his and was pulling out the gun he had tucked into his waistband.

“They’re too close for that.” You told him as the last three closed in on you. Then you saw 2 more rushing into the alley and let out a sigh. “Damn.”

The newcomers started firing as you dove into a nook in the wall. August had his sights trained on them as he started to take his shots. The other three were on you in seconds.

You managed to dodge the first few punches as you drew two new knives from inside your boot. You caught a glancing blow to your ribs before kicking the culprit twice, once to the diaphragm, once to the face. You felt arms wrap around you from behind as you were lifted off the ground by the largest lackey. You started gasping as he began to squeeze the air out of your lungs.

You whipped your head back fast and felt a crunch as you connected with his nose. He dropped you to the ground with a hiss and you plunged a knife back and connected with flesh, earning yourself a momentary reprieve. You used the other knife to cut a slit up the thigh of your skirt to allow you to move more.

The gunfire had stopped at this point and you managed to catch a glimpse of August grappling with one of the gunmen before one of your assailants bowled into you. As he tried to flip you onto your back, you managed to take over the momentum and wrap your knee around his neck until you heard a snap.

You felt a sharp pain in your side as you straightened back up and were fairly sure you now had a broken rib. You turned to face your final attacker when you heard a choked off scream and a body flew into your field of vision, crashing into the man you were facing.

You turned to your left to see August pumping his fists as he strode after the man he had just thrown across the alleyway like a ragdoll. You squared up shoulder to shoulder as your two opponents did the same.

The final fight started with a crash. The two of you had vastly different fighting styles. You were all strategy, dodging most blows, planning your strikes for maximum damage. August was all brute force; he simply absorbed any body shots and knew that the size and force of his fists would cause damage no matter where they landed. The fight finally ended with your opponent with a knife through his eye, while August’s opponent’s head was almost ripped off with a broken neck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~END OF CONTENT WARNING~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Motherfucker,” you exclaimed, “they shot the baby gift!”

August was already dialing a sanitation team as you went over to inspect the damage. You may have been able to salvage it if someone hadn’t managed to bleed into the bullet hole in the packaging, soaking the beanie and booties.

Leaving the ruined present behind, you went to search the corpses for any useful information. You found one potentially salvageable cell phone (it was only covered in blood, not crushed) and nothing else.

“Shit”

“Sloane wants to talk to you,” August said, handing you his cell.

“Y/L/N, you wanna tell me what exactly the situation is there?”

“Did Walker not give you a run down?”

“His run downs tend to be minimal at best, this one was ‘lots of dead bodies in an alley, send a team.’”

You winced as you touched your ribs to assess the damage. “Yeah, that sounds like him. They made us and boxed us in. I have one cell I may be able to get something out of. Does rice work for absorbing blood or just water?”

You heard a snort over the line. “Take it back to your safe house and I’ll have an analyst pick it up tomorrow. Right now, you need to get out of there, we’re showing law enforcement heading to your location.”

“Alright. Hey, can you have that analyst pick up a replacement baby gift for me?” You asked as you held up a blood-soaked booty.

“Sure, they love when I give them errands.” You heard the sarcasm dripping from her voice.

“We’re on our way back. I’m trashing our phones just in case.” You said as you walked through the alley, making sure to collect all the knives you had used and tucking them back into their designated sheathes.

“Good plan. The analyst will bring you replacements in the morning. Stay in your room at the inn and don’t leave under any circumstances.”

“You got it boss.” You placed the phone on a slightly raised cobblestone at an angle and brought your boot down on it hard, hearing it crack.

You did the same with the phone in your purse as August walked back over to you, carrying both of your coats.

“Hey Walker, what the fuck was that kiss?”

He winced at you. “I thought it would throw them off.”

“Uh-huh” you mumbled as you shrugged your coat back on. That may have explained why he kissed you, but definitely not the way he kissed you. “You’re bleeding”

“Yeah, one of them grazed me”

“Alright, I’ll stitch you up when we get back to the hotel. Put your coat over it for now”

He groaned when he stretched his arm through the sleeve of his coat, feeling the burning of the wound along his ribs now that his adrenaline was going down.

You hobbled back into your room at the inn after you managed to calm down the tiny innkeeper. You weren’t sure how you convinced her you had both just tripped as you were walking down a hill, but she seemed to buy it. She insisted on sending up a bundle of hot towels with you and a bucket of ice, which you thanked her for.

After locking the door behind you, you pulled out the first aid kit from under your bed and turned to your patient.

“I hope you’re not too attached to that sweater.”

“What?” August was slowly rolling his coat off his shoulders. He had rolled the sweater up around his elbows during the fight, exposing his well-muscled forearms.

“Even if I could get the blood out of it, I’m going to need to cut it off you.” You told him over your shoulder as you scrubbed your hands. “I don’t want to drag it over the wound and cause any more damage.”

“Alright.”

You drew the scissors out of the kit and held the sweater away from his torso as you began cutting up towards his neckline. He winced when the edge of your hand barely skimmed the wound.

“This sweater is ridiculously tight Walker; I’m doing my best.”

“You’re fine just get it over with.” He said through gritted teeth.

“I haven’t even started cleaning it and you’re already complaining. Do you want me to knock you out for a couple of stitches?”

“Do you have a sedative in that kit?”

“The kit is the sedative. One good ram against your skull should have you down for the count.”

He started laughing in spite of himself before groaning at the pain.

“If you don’t hold still, I really will knock you out.” You scolded him, pouring an iodine solution over the wound.

“Fuck, Y/L/N! Ah, that stings.”

“Here, bite down on this.” You folded up a towel and handed it to him. He shoved it in his mouth and clamped down as you ran a flame over the needle you would be using. He let out a grunt around it when you first inserted the needle but managed to settle in as you got to work.

Less than a minute later, you finished your beautiful blanket stitch and were about to start wrapping his torso when he stayed your hand.

“Leave it.”

“Suit yourself.” You said, standing up. You winced suddenly as you had forgotten about your own injury and it was now screaming at you. “Shit.” You hissed. “Help me out of my coat?”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Pretty sure I have at least one broken rib.”

He stood up and helped you shrug out of your heavy coat. “Jesus, how many knives are in here?”

“Six?” you said as you did a mental tally. “No, seven. Two in each sleeve, two in the waist, one in between the shoulders.” You went to the bathroom mirror and untucked your blouse from your skirt, pulling up the edge to get a good look at your bruised torso.

“You really need to carry seven knives with you?”

“No. Those are just the ones sewn into the coat.” You put your shirt back down. “Good news, pretty sure I just have a bruised diaphragm. Hurts like a bitch but not a whole lot you can do about it.”

You turned around to head back to the bedroom when you bumped into August’s bare chest.

“Where do you keep the other knives?”

He was looking at you with what you had originally assumed were adrenaline blown eyes, but now recognized as the dilated pupils of lust. His blood must have still been up from the fight.

With your boots still on you were almost as tall as him, but he was a solid wall of muscle in front of you and while you could move him if you needed to, that wouldn’t be good for either of your injuries.

“What are you doing?” You asked him, looking him dead in the eye as you shifted your stance, ready to fight if you had to, but you thought you would have a better chance if you ran.

He let out a sigh and stepped back on his heels, allowing you to relax a bit.

“I think I misread this situation.”

“How exactly?”

“Listen,” he said, “there’s nothing like a good fuck after a fight and we’ve been partnered for almost six months now. I know we’re normally able to take care of ourselves but since we’re stuck in this room together with just the one bed, it would probably be less awkward if we just…”

“’You know we’re normally able to take care of ourselves?’ Where the fuck did you get that idea?”

“You’re not very quiet.” He said bluntly, which you honestly couldn’t deny so you just started laughing.

“No, that’s definitely true” You said. Standing there, looking at him leaning up against the wall with his naked torso that looked like it had been chiseled by Da Vinci after a particularly exquisite wet dream, you couldn’t even deny that often, the thought of him between your legs was enough to push over the edge in your post-fight sessions.

“Alright then let’s set some ground rules. Hard limits for me are going to be anything related to urine or feces. No real soft limits but if you want to do breath play you better know what you’re doing. My safe word is ‘balsam’. What about you?”

He was looking at you with his face in a state of total shock. “Umm, what?”

“What are your limits Walker? What won’t you do? What are you willing to do but aren’t crazy about?”

“No, no, I know what limits are. Same as yours, I guess my safe word can be ‘spruce’?” he almost made the second sentence a question. “You’re fine with this?”

“Should I not be fine with this? We’re both professionals, this is strictly so we’re able to sleep after…”

You didn’t have time to finish your thought as he lifted you up and wrapped your legs around him. He pulled your head down to his and parted your lips with his tongue. You greeted it with yours as he lay you down on the bed and ripped your skirt the rest of the way off from the slit you made in it earlier, revealing a custom garter belt that held four more knives on each thigh. At the sight of that he laughed.

“Is that all of them?”

You propped yourself up on your elbows and looked at him through your lashes. “Why don’t you get the rest of this off and find out?” You said, holding up one booted calf and rubbing it against his shoulder.

He growled at you as he ripped the boot off and ran his teeth against the arch of your foot, causing a quiver to run up your leg and ripple through your core. He removed the other boot next and pulled you down until you were straddling him, then he tore through the buttons on your blouse and yanked you up to roll it down your shoulders. Then he took a step back to take a good look at you.

“Sevent… seventeen knives, really?” He said, looking you over.

Aside from the eight knives around your thighs, you had two around each of your calves, four tucked into the waist portion of your special garter belt, and one between your breasts.

“Twenty-four total, along with the coat.” You grinned up at him. “This custom set cost me a pretty penny, so no tearing it off me like an animal.” You said, glancing over at your ruined skirt and blouse.

“I think I’ll let you remove all of that, for my own safety.”

You threw your head back and laughed, then stood up and started to unstrap yourself.

You started with your left leg, removing the small sheath belt on your calf, and placing it on your trunk, then removing the four knives from the thigh before unbuckling it. Then you moved onto your right leg, fully unstrapping everything there before undoing your garter belt completely at the waist. Finally, you undid your very special bra and placed that on top of the impressive pile, turning back to Walker in only your panties and stockings.

He was looking at you with a lust blown gaze and his fists clenching and unclenching at his side. You could see the outline of a very impressive hard on through his tight slacks and felt yourself clench around nothing as a rush of arousal soaked your panties.

“Fuck, Y/N. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You rolled your eyes at him as you strode over, pulling him down for a quick kiss before sinking to your knees. “Low bar there bud, we’ll see if we can improve on that before the night’s out.” You said as you started to undo his belt.

“Um, starting already?”

You gave the outline of his cock a soft nip through his slacks and his hips twitch involuntarily as he took in a sharp intake of breath.

“I mean, I can draw this out if you really want, but I’m pretty sure we’re past the foreplay stage at this point.” You say, pulling down his slacks and boxer briefs to free his extremely impressive cock. It almost slaps you in the face as it bounces back up towards his abdomen. You make eye contact with him as you slowly drag your tongue along the base from root to tip.

“Shit, yeah, you’re right.” He lets out in a quick breath, tilting his head back and screwing his eyes shut.

You give him a wicked grin as you continue staring up through your lashes. Your tongue flicks around the tip a few times, lapping up the trickle of pre-cum that is forming before you slowly take the head of his cock in your mouth, humming around it as you do.

“Jesus, fuck.” He cries as his knees buckle and he lands on the bed with a huff. You slide forward on your knees to follow him and dip your hand between your legs to coat it in your own arousal, before gripping his length and sucking on first one velvety sack, then the other.

His breathing is becoming irregular as he stares at you through hooded eyes. You take his cock in your mouth again and he wraps your hair around his fist as you start to slowly move your head up and down, taking him in a little deeper each time. You feel his tip hit the back of your throat and start to breathe through your nose as you swallow around his cock.

“Shit,” he exclaims as he falls back and places a second hand on the back of your head as he starts to fuck his hips up into your mouth. “Y/N, I’m gonna cum.”

His hips stutter as he tries to pull out, but you get your own hands under his hips to hold him in place. He lets out a low groan and you feel his release running hot snakes down your throat. You continue swallowing around his softening dick until your sure he has nothing left to give you, then you release him with a pop and wipe the drool from your chin.

You slowly kiss and lick your way up his torso, dipping your tongue into the ripples between his muscles and making low, humming noises as you do. His ragged breathing has started to even out as you reach his neck, running your teeth along his pulse point and nipping at his jaw before you place your mouth over his and flick your tongue along his bottom lip.

“Good for you, baby?” You ask against his lips, feeling the scratch of his stubble and moustache against your soft skin as you gently pull on his lips with your teeth.

You feel him grin against your mouth as answer before his tongue meets yours.

“Fucking great, your turn now.”

You only have a second to prepare as he wraps his hands around the outside of your thighs and yanks you up the bed with a yelp until your straddling his face. He buries his face against your silk covered mound and gives a sharp inhale before he starts kissing and softly biting at the skin of your inner thighs, his facial hair scratching at the sensitive skin.

“Take these things off.” He says, pulling at your panties with his teeth before letting them snap back into place as you let out a strangled gasp.

You somehow manage to remove them from the awkward position you’re in and as soon as they’re gone, August drags his tongue along your slit at an agonizingly slow pace.

Your brain short circuits and you have to brace both your hands against the headboard so you don’t collapse onto his face. He moves a hand up to palm your breast, working your pebbled nipple in between his fingers as his tongue circles your clit.

“God, honey, you taste amazing.” He murmured against you before shoving his tongue inside your cunt and making you scream. “You gonna cum all over my…”

You cut him off by grinding your pussy into his face. “Stop talking.” You hiss at him. You can feel your orgasm building and want relief as soon as possible.

You feel his smile against you as he starts fucking you with his mouth in earnest, wrapping his arms around your thighs before he starts sucking on your clit.

The sight of those forearms around your legs combined with the soft hums and moans he’s making against your skin send you teetering over the edge. You feel yourself clench around his tongue and let out a cry, your body tightening and releasing as wave after wave of pleasure wrack you.

When you had finally finished, August slowly rolled you over and softly kissed down your leg as he lowered you onto the pillows. You groaned and arched your back when he stopped, hating the loss of sensation. Your heart was still beating like crazy as you propped yourself up on your elbows to gaze at him.

His hair was damp with sweat as it tumbled into his eyes in loose curls. He raked his fingers back through it to push it out of his face, and you saw that his moustache and stubble were soaked with your slick as he licked his lips and stared at you. You let out a low moan and bit your lip as you felt desire pool at your core once more. You pulled his face down to yours and started cleaning the evidence of your orgasm from his facial hair with your lips as you wrapped your legs around his waist. You felt him harden against you as he began rocking his hips, sliding his cock against your swollen clit and you let out a small whine.

“Ready again so soon sweetheart?” He murmured into your ear, nuzzling himself in the small hollow behind the hinge of your jaw. He slips one hand underneath you and presses you into him further, coating his cock in your arousal.

“Fuck.” You hiss. “Jesus, get inside me now.”

“Condom?”

“I’m on the pill.”

He smiles against your neck as his hips still and he lines himself up at your entrance. You let out a strangled cry as he slams into you, bottoming out immediately.

“Fuck, you’re so tight honey.” He growls into your neck as he stops moving completely.

After a few beats of stillness, you speak up.

“August, I kind of need you to move.”

“Yeah, just give me a second.” You feel his face screwed up against your neck as he holds you there. He’s trying not to come like a teenager two pumps into their first warm cunt. He pulls out of you halfway before slowly pushing back in, and your hands scramble on his back, begging him to pick up the pace as you flutter around him. He finally starts fucking into you at a steady rhythm as you take in a sharp breath.

As he starts to pick up the pace, he takes your left leg from around his waist and moves it so your ankle is propped on his shoulder. He places small bites along your ankle as he presses his thumb into the arch of your foot, causing you to clench around him and gasp, screwing your eyes closed as he edges you closer and closer. You feel his grin against your calf as his hand moves to your upper back and he pulls you up to mouth at your breast, rolling your hardened nipple between his tongue and teeth.

“August!” you let out a scream at the new position. The change in angles has him hitting your sweet spot over and over, and now he is slamming into you fast. “I’m gonna cum!”

“That’s right baby, scream for me.” He pulls you up flush against him and you wrap your arms around his neck so he can stabilize himself against the wall. The hand he isn’t using for balance slides in between you, using two fingers to work your clit as he fucks you harder and harder while kissing you deeply. The bed frame sounds like it’s about to fall apart as he fucks you into the headboard.

You cry into his mouth as the tension in your core snaps and you fly apart around him. Your cunt clenches and flutters as you feel yourself turn to jelly, sinking back onto the pillows as he continues to fuck into you at a punishing speed, a hand on each of your hips as he pulls you onto him over and over.

You feel yourself building again quickly as his cock starts to twitch inside you and your velvety walls constrict around him again. You don’t know if you can handle another orgasm at this point.

He looks down at you as his pace becomes irregular and gives you a wicked grin. “C’mon baby, give me one more.”

You let out a low moan as he presses a thumb to your overworked clit and you spasm up off the bed as your pleasure is released. You feel all the muscles in your core tremble from the strain, and your previously forgotten rib injury makes itself known.

August isn’t far behind you and you feel his hips stutter as his release coats your walls and he hisses your name through clenched teeth before collapsing on top of you and burying his face in your neck. You feel him starting to soften as he slides out of you and he rolls to the side breathing heavily. You lay next to each other for a few moments, waiting for your heart rates to slow down and breathing to regulate before you even try to move or talk. It’s been a while since either of you have been so thoroughly fucked, and you didn’t realize how much you needed it until this moment. You finally come down from your post-fuck high, and groan as you sit up and try to head to the bathroom, knees almost giving out once you stand up. Walker starts laughing behind you and you turn to throw a pillow at his head, which he catches in mid-air. Once your sea legs are back, you make your way to the bathroom for a post-fuck piss. You hear a muttered “Shit” from the bedroom, and the rattle of jostled furniture, and start cackling as you start to run the shower.

“God a shower will be great.” Walker says as he stumbles into view, still pretty obviously fuck-drunk.

“It’s a whore’s bath for you. I can’t believe your stitches stayed in place during all of that, there’s no way I’m letting you ruin them now.”

“You’re so fucking bossy, I oughta…”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish that thought as there is a sudden pounding on the door. You both snap into alert stances as you toss a robe at him and wrap one around yourself quickly. He grabs his gun and takes up a stance behind the door, then gives you a nod once he’s ready, jaw clenched in preparation. You swing the door open to find Mdm. Eberle, the 80-year-old innkeeper, standing there with her even more ancient husband, holding what you can only assume was a previously decorative rifle from the 1700s that they had hauled down from above the fireplace.

“Madame Trellier,” she whimpers at you. “The room below you heard screaming and horrible noises and we… oh.” She trails off once she gets a good look at you.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror before you answered the door, and there was really no other way to describe your appearance than well fucked. Your hair was bunched up and mussed, your mascara was running, and there were love bites running down your neck and on to your chest. Not that the state of the room was any better. Your discarded clothes were still in plain view, and you now noticed a small crack running up the wall behind the headboard that definitely wasn’t there before.

Mssr. Eberle’s look abruptly change from a scowl to childish glee as he gave you a toothless grin while Mdm. Eberle covered her mouth with one hand as a flush crept up to her face.

You started to apologize profusely when Walker chose this moment to stride out from behind the door with a cocky grin on his face, wrap his hand around your waist, and give you a kiss on the neck before heading into the bathroom.

Poor Mdm. Eberle started spluttering while her husband started cackling, assuring you that there was no need to apologize as she started scurrying away. Mssr. Eberle gave you a lecherous wink before following her, and you closed the door behind them with a sigh.

“Stay out of that shower!” You scolded Walker as you headed into the bathroom, ready to get back to the States already so you could debrief and maybe actually be home for the holidays. You didn’t even notice the cellphone you had collected from your attackers was now on the bedside table, laying on top of an electromagnet.

   END

More A/N: Y’all, I had way too much fun with this one. I actually enjoyed writing the non-smut portion as much as the sweet, smutty goodness. I also think I maybe have a bad boy kink? Who knows, we’ll explore further.

Happy Hoelidays!

[mlbthoughtsandships]

Compulsion--8/?

Read on AO3

[1-Imprint on Me/Soulmate–Imprint] [2-Jealousy] [3-Unconventional Proposals] [4-The First Night] [5-Who’s really the sap?] [6-Spoilers] [7-Ask Me Again]

This newest akuma was...different. This woman wore a white and pink maid's outfit; the apron was heart-shaped; and the chest was a giant clock with heart-shaped hands. It was in this clock that her powers lay; at random intervals--Ladybug couldn't stop moving long enough to nail down a pattern, a burst of pink light would rip through the center at in the direction of her target. Chat Noir had already been clipped; a giant, yellow timer counted down from 10 minutes above his head. No amount of questioning would result in an answer; the akuma had just cackled and said that they would both see at the end of the timer. She had announced herself as Countdown, but offered no more information. Since that moment, she had been trying to nail Ladybug with her beam. 

"Why won't you stay still!?" She complained, furiously. Ladybug ducked behind a parked car as Chat redirected the beam into a post. He joined her behind the car. 

"What do you want to do, milady? As curious as I am about this timer, I'm not very eager to see what it does," he stated. 

"I think we're going to need some he-" The car was suddenly blasted away. Chat Noir barely managed force Ladybug's head down as another blast sent the car soaring into the park. They both vaulted to their feet, ready to dodge or fight, whenever another blast--not hardly 30 seconds from the last--slammed into Ladybug's chest. Chat cried out for her as she went flying back into a separate light post. She groaned at the painful strain to her back and looked up at her own timer--now blazing about her head. 5 minutes...and it was counting down faster than Chat's. 

"Oh~," the akuma sang. "Oh my, kitty's gonna have a broken heart." 

"You ready to tell us what it does?!" Chat demanded. 

"If you haven't figured that out by now, then I'm definitely not going to tell you." Ladybug looked around. The epicenter of the attack was close; men and women bore the same timers-counting down. There was a sound of something chiming coming from Countdown's clock. Her eyes immediately darted almost manically around the square; Ladybug's eyes followed hers. One woman's timer hit zero and then she vanished. She reappeared, however, soon after--right as another woman's timer hit the same number. They stood in front of one another in a daze as a pink hue took over their irises. The akuma laughed gleefully. "I knew it~" She sang. "You two were totally soulmates!" She jumped up and down in delight. Ladybug's mouth fell open.

"You mean these silly timers are a soul-mate radar?!" She complained. The akuma's glee died down; a pout came on her lips. 

"Yes, I can't believe I gave the game away..." Her pout disappeared as quickly as it had come. Her smile got wider. "There's also a compulsion charm imbedded into the beam. Those two will be going out to dinner. You two however...will deliver your miraculous once the timer reaches zero!"  

Ladybug's lips twitched. The akuma realized it at the same time and let out a shriek of rage; they would be teleported to their soulmate. Which could be anywhere in the city. "Well, I suppose you'll have 4 minutes to try and take it, Countdown." She taunted as she dropped into a fighting stance. Chat, however, didn't move immediately; he was busy having an internal meltdown at the fact that Ladybug's timer was faster and lower. His timer had only just moved past 8 minutes.

"Ah," Chat shook himself. "I won't let such a silly thing as timers separate us, milady!" He declared with bluster, jumping upwards as a beam shot at his feet. 

"Ah, but they are accurate," Countdown teased. "They'll transport you to your soul's one true fit." 

"And how can you read our souls?" Ladybug asked as both of them crept closer to the distracted akuma. "What makes you the deciding vote?" 

"I'm not~," she sang, "you are." Chat hooked his baton into a sewer drain lid while Ladybug kept the akuma's eyes on her. She shot her yoyo at Countdown's head. The woman dodged. "HA, you missed!" Her yoyo wrapped around the light post. Ladybug used the momentum of the string and the steadiness of the post to propel herself forward. The akuma dodged as Ladybug's feet flew past, but she couldn't dodge the sewer cap that Chat Noir hurled with his baton. It slammed into her and knocked her to the ground, but the clock did not break. 

Which was unfortunate. 

Ladybug's timer hit 0:00. 

 X

Luka yelped as a weight slammed into the deck beside him. He jumped up as he identified the mass on the deck. "Ladybug!" He cried out as she staggered to her knees. She pressed her palm to her forehead as if gathering her bearings. "Are you okay?" He asked as he helped her to her feet. She leaned into him for a moment, naturally, as if they had done it a thousand times, before pushing away. 

"Yeah," she seemed to take assessment of herself and then gave a firmer nod, "yeah. I need..." She looked up at him, their eyes met, and her eyes glazed over in a pink film. Luka's stomach dropped. 'She's under the influence of an akuma,' he realized. He looked around the deck for something, anything that could snap her out of it or save him if the influence made Ladybug violent. "Luka," she called before he resolved himself to using his guitar for blocking. "Luka~" she sang. His eyes snapped over to her; first in alarm at the beautiful voice and then in true shock as her hands reached up for her ears. He realized immediately what the influence was. He grabbed her hands quickly and pulled them down by her hips. The action brought them closer--closer than he had ever thought he would be to the one who gave him the chance to be a temporary hero. "What are you doing?" She asked as she wiggled; a small giggle escaped her. He tried to ignore how jarring that sound was coming from the leader of the miraculous team and how familiar it seemed. 

"Stopping you from making a mistake," Luka told her as he kept hold of her hands. He held her back into the depths of the boat, hidden from eyes.

"But you wanted to know my secret!" Ladybug protested. Luka almost tripped on the first step down into the hull, realizing that she was referencing his akumatization. He almost clipped his shoulder on the wall, but Ladybug pulled back just enough that he stayed on course.

"You don't want to do what you think you do," he told her soothingly. "I never should have asked." 

"You should have! It was within your right to know!" Ladybug argued as she tried to wiggle her hands free. "I do love you, Luka," she said freely. His eyes widened; his grip on her hands loosened for a second. He scrambled to try and catch her hands as they darted up to her ears, attempting to make the most of her time freed. Luka did the only thing he could think of. He slapped his hands around her wrists and pinned them to the wall behind her. Her mouth fell open and a vivid blush spread across her cheeks. He took a deep calming breath. 

"No, you don't." He argued. "It's the akuma making you-"

"No, it isn't." Ladybug retorted, trying to free her wrist in sharp bursts. Luka wondered idly why she wasn't overpowering him; in the suit, she was certain strong enough. 'But the compulsion isn't...there's something else to it. She didn't just appear to me randomly and she's acting almost...lovesick.' 

"Ladybug, why are you here?" He asked. 

"Countdown, the akuma, her beam is supposedly some soulmate timer or something corny like that..." Luka didn't have time to unpack all that, especially since her leg was now sliding up his. She could easily kick him away, all it would take was wedging her knee between them. He swallowed.  

"I'm sorry about this," he apologized as he closed the small distance between them and pressed into her body. Her cheeks flooded with red and he was certain his own matched. "T-The, ah, compulsion is secondary to the timer?" He questioned. 'Get her thinking,' he rationalized. 'Engage her brain and she'll stop trying to expose herself...' Ladybug nodded. "Why is the thought that you love me more overpowering than the compulsion?"

"She's a matchmaking akuma," Ladybug clarified. "She said that I was the deciding vote about who I was transported to." Luka swallowed as he fought the urge to lay his head on her shoulder--even temporarily in exasperation. 'So, I'm gonna have to unpack it, huh?' He thought.

"So, subconsciously, you thought of me whenever she said soulmate?" Ladybug shook her head. 

"No, I thought of you when she said 'my soul's perfect fit'. Soulmate is too...broad of a definition. If that were all, I could have just as easily teleported to Alya--since I consider her a platonic soulmate. But 'perfect fit' means more."

"That...doesn't sound like subconscious," he said weakly. It wasn't just her response; it was the name Alya combined with the way she said  Ladybug smiled, but it was a trembling thing as if she didn't want to be saying all this. Luka's eyes widened. "You can't help but respond to me," he realized with dread. 

"It doesn't seem like I have much of a filter," Ladybug agreed. Luka's mind raced. 

"It's more than that, you have to be honest with your responses..." Ladybug nodded again. Luka pinched his lips together. "Shit, okay. Where is the fight happening?" 

"Near the park that has the Ladybug and Chat Noir statue," she answered. Confusion had slipped into her tone.  

"I want you to take me there." 

"What? Why?" 

"Because you are the only one who can purify the akuma."

"I'm not taking you into danger without a suit, Luka!" Ladybug argued; the first hints of her true self since before the pink glow. Luka pursed his lips. 

"Please, Ladybug," he begged. She jerked as if he had slapped her; he bit into the inside of his cheek. A whine escaped the back of her throat as her head slammed into the wood of the boat. 

"Don't," she protested weakly.

"Please," Luka repeated. He smothered the guilt as her pained eyes met his. He gave her wrists an apologetic squeeze as he stepped away and let his hands fall. His request seemed to overpower the compulsion as she stepped forward and let him out of the boat. She wrapped her arm around his waist and urged him to hold onto her. "Focus on the fight when we get there and I'll be safe," he told her as she swung the rope around a pipe jutting out from a house just a few feet from where they were docked. His breath caught as they were off. It was a jarring feeling, traveling by air-hanging from someone. 

Before the feeling could make him dizzy, they landed at the fight. Chat Noir had broken the clock and freed the akuma. He had managed to cage it in his hands. The timer above his head read 4 minutes. He stared in astonishment at Ladybug and Luka. Luka caught her hands before they could dart back up to her earrings at the realization that there was no akuma, no fight to be had.

"The akuma needs to be purified," Luka tried. He didn't want to ask her to do something again whenever she couldn't resist. Ladybug's lips pouted. 

"Yeah, but..." 

"I need you to purify the akuma, Ladybug," Luka resigned himself. 

"Thank you," Ladybug breathed, stunning him, as her yoyo wiped out. Chat's hands parted numbly, allowing Ladybug to catch it with her yoyo. 

"Bye-bye, little butterfly," she said as the purified butterfly flew off. Now that the akuma was cleansed.

"Is the compulsion still-" 

"No, it's not," Ladybug sighed in relief. She turned to him. Her blue eyes were shining with relief and true affection. Luka's stomach clenched. 'Oh,' he realized immediately. The words she had spoken under the influence of the akuma combined with the way she was looking at him now--'Marinette.' And it was like the mask no longer existed. He could see the freckles across her nose that were hidden by the mask. He kept his expression as neutral as he could. Then, Ladybug hugged him; and he didn't bother hiding the shock. "Thank you," she whispered somehow more earnestly than before.  

"You're welcome," he murmured as she stepped back and let him go. He was aware of Chat's eyes fixed on them, but the black cat didn't say a word. Mari-Ladybug called for her Lucky Charm and threw it into the air. The Miraculous Cure washed over the city, Chat, and herself in turn. 

"I'll tend to the akumatized victim," Chat Noir said in the silence that had settled once the ladybugs had retreated. "You should take Luka home." He added to Ladybug. Ladybug nodded. 

"Right. Thanks, Chat." 

Like before, they traveled in silence. As they landed back onto the deck, Luka rubbed the back of his neck and readied to tell her that he knew. 

"Luka..." She interrupted. "I...know you aren't stupid...and we can eventually come back to this," the this was loaded, "but right now..." 

"Hey, I told you didn't I?" He stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I'll be here when you're ready." He reminded her with a slight smile. Her breath caught. Her own smile, trembling with both heartache and relief, pulled her lips. 

"Yeah." They shared a smile and she turned to leave. As she put her foot up on the edge of the boat, she turned back to him. "I meant it, you know," she reminded him. 'I do love you, Luka.' 

"I know," he reassured. 

[random-mha-thoughts]

Kiss of Death (Todoroki x Reader)

Pairing: Todoroki x Reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: If the Angel of Death came upon you but you had half an hour, what would you do?

BGM: Ateez “Inception” slowed + reverb

Word count: 1,639

Warnings: Character death and preparation

Tags: @rintomoj​ @yuki-osaki​ @yamichxn​ @lonelyfangirl453​ @cyanide9602​ @liviitehe​ @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog​

a/n: Really proud of this one, I really like it and I hope you guys do too.

The figure looms over you, its shadowy silhouette casting the room in darkness against the moonlight streaming through your window.  At first, you figured it was a thief or murderer breaking in; anyone else would have concluded the same judging from the dark clothes and intimidating demeanor.

That is, until you realize the massive shadow blocking out all the light is due to a pair of overarching, feathery wings.

Your mouth can't help gaping open as you jolt up in bed.  There's a supernatural creature visiting you at what you assume is an ungodly hour of the night.  The thick grey wings retract into their back, allowing you view of their entire physique as the moonlight rushes back into your room, no longer restricted.

The figure appears human, their white cloak's hood settles over squared shoulders and hips of roughly the same width.  Their hair cropped short and the rest of their features remain androgynous.  You should be scared of the intruder, but something about their serene expression and inexplicably calm aura dispels any tension in the room.

"My child, forgive me for disturbing you," their airy voice is just as serene as their appearance, a gentle fingers barely ghosting your cheek, "But I'm afraid your time has come."

Your eyes widen.  "M-My time?  As in..."

They nod slowly, the hand cool hand trailing down to gingerly take your hand.  "It is sudden, but to compensate, you are allowed half an hour to do as you please."

It's expected that being told you're going to die would send cold down your spine and threaten your entire being, your body shivering as your mind tries to comprehend what exactly it means to cease to exist.  While it does happen, you're calm and collected, smiling at the messenger.  "I'm thankful for the warning.  At least I won't have to leave without preparations."

Your mind is surprisingly rational in the face of an earth-shattering reality, you're unsure if it's because of the influence of the angel or your complete blind acceptance of fate - you hope it's the latter.

You begin your preparations.  The first thing you do is gather as many letters and envelopes as you have in your room.  Each one is addressed to those dear to you: to your closest friend and loving family members.  Pouring your most genuine feelings out into each of these makes your only slightly regretful that you might not have showered them with enough love in your life this far, but at this point you can only hope your affections shine through in your last moments, and that the thought of you writing your last words to them in your dying breaths will hold more weight.

Next, you pull out your bank card and all the money you have stashed in an extraneous corner of your sweater drawer.  Dividing it into two even piles; one goes into the envelope for your parents and the other for your closest friend.  In the envelope for your parents, you also include your bank card and the PIN, along with the trust that they'll know how to divide the money in the bank - though you very strongly suggest the idea of them taking much needed vacation for themselves.  To your friend, you also include a list of all your social media and email accounts connected to friends you can only talk to and not meet face to face, mandate that they split this money between the other friends who need it most, that you trust their judgment, and also to spare some for themselves.

Finishing all the writing, the weight on your shoulders slowly lifts, as if releasing all your affections on paper is a much needed therapy.  You try not to think of the possibility that it might just be your soul slowly disconnecting from your body.

"What will they think I died from?" you ask curiously, placing the envelopes face up on your desk.

The angel - who has been patiently watching your tranquil planning from afar - blinks.  "They will think you simply died in your sleep.

"I see."

The only remaining preparation in your home was to leave your apartment key under the mat in front of your door.  You send a text to that same closest friend to come by in the morning to help clean, and if you didn't answer the door to use the spare key under the mat.

All of this took up a 25 minutes of your remaining time.  However, there is one more person you couldn't stop thinking about as your time of expiration looms closer and closer.  You turn to your companion.  "Would you mind teleporting me somewhere?  There's one last person I need to see."

~

Three raps on the balcony door was all it took for you to see movement in the bedroom.   The lump rolls over, a head peaks out from under the blanket, first checking the time then lifting up to face the window.  Bicolored hair is illuminated as the figure slowly retreats from the bed, clad in nothing but dark sweatpants.

Your heart pounds and your stomach churns, the normal reaction that he elicits out of you whenever you're near him.

The boy rubs his eyes and blinks the sleep away, focusing on your waiting figure.  He opens the balcony door full of confusion.  "(Y/n)?  Why are you here?  It's 3 am."  His voice is as gravelly as you've only imagined hearing it being, thought you usually picture him greeting you in the morning after sleeping next to him.

Anticipation wells up inside you.  Up to this point, you had no problem spilling your deepest thoughts to your loved ones, but something about him had always made you think twice before showing any sort of affection.  Call it a force of habit, but you've never wanted him to know about your crush on him since you wanted to preserve your friendship and keep your relationship from becoming awkward around your mutual friends.

But you have nothing to lose at this point; might as well cross this final what-if off your list in your last few minutes.  "I know it's late, Todoroki, but I have to tell you something  It can't wait until morning."

He sighs heavily and leans against the door frame.  "I'm listening."

You use the ever-lightening weight you feel unraveling within you as strength to call upon.   "I have feelings for you."

The boy's expression doesn't change after you've ripped the bandage off, his stoic expression still in tact.

You can't help but let out a puff of laughter.  "You're the only person I've met who I can confidently say I've imagined waking up next to.  I always thought we would've been compatible as a couple, we would've been happy together.  Your calm nature, your quiet power and charisma, your heart, I did fall for all of it.  And... I didn't want to leave without finally saying this to you."

This is your first confession.  Every other crush you had, you let pass you by without so much as a word or hint.  But now, you've run out of time to hide it.  In a way, you're grateful for the pressure to finally overcome your fear of rejection, but only regretful that it came under these circumstances.  If he rejects you now, it doesn't matter.

But Todoroki's response was unreadable, the only display of feeling being his slightly widened eyes.

Your face gets hot and you laugh to cover it up.  "Yeah, I came at 3 am to confess to you, I'm sorry."  Your eyes flicker to the clock on his bedside table, the time telling you that you have barely two minutes to wrap this up.  Behind you, the angel makes its presence known by gingerly touching their hand to your shoulder.  "I need to be going now."

You're about to leave the balcony when another stroke of bravery crosses your mind.  Squarely facing him, you grip his neck and tug him closer until your lips meet gently as you've dreamed of on many occasions, though the burst of electricity that erupts between you two is indescribably better than what you've imagined.

Todoroki's hand reaches to meet your wrist just as you pull back to rest your forehead against his.  You want to laugh; such a blissful feeling was waiting for you this entire time where you could've had endless kisses like these, but you have to be satisfied with just the one as it's the only one you're getting.  You almost forgot that you have to part ways with him forever now.  Still, it's a perfect way to die, you think in bittersweet parting sorrow.

You step away from him for his tether on your arm to keep you still.  He finally exhibits emotion: desperation and hunger for another one, mixed with fear as he acknowledges there must be something amiss.  "Don't go," he pleads, as if this is the last time he sees you.  Little did he know it would be.

You give him one last smile.  "Goodnight, Todoroki.  Thank you."  Your body is feather light now, your time whittling away to the final seconds.  Without a second thought, you let go and fling yourself off the balcony.

In the blink of an eye, you're back in your familiar room, laying in your bed.  The conflicting sensation of a heavy body but weightless inside overtakes you, and you know it's time.  The lingering aftermath of your final kiss still on your lips, you smile to yourself.  If your soul can remember memories, you hope this feeling remains permanently engraved in them.  "I'm ready to go."  Your eyes flutter closed and you breathe out, your terminal exhale coming with the tingle of a thin thread gently unraveling its last fibers.

A faraway caress is your final feeling.

"Rest now, my child."

.

Part 2

[allegra-writes]

"Lights up" part II

Peter Parker x SHIELD Agent! Reader

NSFW

WARNINGS: SMUT

Series Masterlist

He froze. No. Oh god, please no ...

He lowered his gaze to you, and watched in horror as your eyes went from his left hand above his crotch, your own position on top of him, then finally, to his face.

He was dead. If you didn't kill him for molesting you in your sleep, the shame would probably finish him. Although he firmly believed it was going to be the former. He could actually see it, the storm brewing in your eyes, the adrenaline dilating your pupils, getting you ready to fight.

"I'm sorry. I am so so-" You muffled his apologies with your lips. Ok, maybe not to fight.

Peter had never been kissed before, not like that. And, as your lips continued to move against his, sensual yet firm, demanding, he felt like he hadn't at all. Nothing he had ever felt before compared to this, to the taste of your tongue on his, to the smell of your hair, falling on his face, to the touch of your hands, splayed on his chest, fingers tracing the hard planes hungrily.

He spun you over, so it was you with your back on the mattress, and him hovering above you. He didn't recognize the sound leaving his throat as you opened your legs and he fell between them, as you buried your fingers on his curls and tugged, as his mouth left yours to explore your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. He watched in awe as your own hand lowered a strap of your tank top down your shoulder, until one gorgeous, perfect breast was bared to him, for him . He wasted no time imitating your movements with your other strap, maybe a little too enthusiastically, snapping it.

You giggled.

"So-sorry" he mumbled, "I've never… done this before"

You bit your lip.

"Do you want to?"

He met your eyes, a feverish, almost crazed look in his own.

"Yes. God, yes!"

You tugged him to you again, and this time, it was him crashing his mouth on yours, nibbling at your lips, forcing his tongue inside. He started rolling his hips against yours on instinct, the movement rubbing his delicious pecs against your hard nipples with every drag of his hips. The feeling of skin on skin was driving you wild. You needed more.

"Rip it off" you panted into his mouth

"Wha-?"

"My top," you broke the kiss to command, "rip it off me. I know you can do it" he was certainly strong enough. He fisted his hand on the fabric and tugged. It tore as easily as if it were paper. He sat back to admire his work.

"Wow…" 

You smiled. Whatever self-consciousness you could have felt, disintegrating at the wonderstruck look on his face. You brought your hands to your breast, massaging, tugging, rolling your nipples between your fingers, eyes never leaving his. 

"You are so beautiful" He marveled under his breath and you weren't sure you were supposed to hear that, but you were glad that you did. You were a spy, beauty wasn't much of a virtue to you. It was a tool, a weapon, a disguise. You knew how to fake it or hide it, depending on what the mission required. But here there was nowhere to hide. Peter was seeing you exactly for who and what you were, and he still wanted you. 

"Lose the pants" You demanded, trying to regain control, "and sit against the headboard"

His hands were shaking as he took both his pants and his boxers off in one go. This time it was your time to marvel, not only at his size (although it was considerable) but also at his shape. He was perfect: thicker than your biggest toy, but not that long. That was better anyway, since you were going to be able to ride him hard, with no fear of stabbing your cervix on it. He was cut, too, but considering his religion that wasn't surprising.

"Fuck! Even your cock is pretty"

Peter blushed but said nothing as he sat exactly like you had ordered. You made quick work of your shorts but kept your underwear. His eyes went wide as he saw the lace and you knew you had made the right call. You straddled his thighs, wrapping your hand around his cock, and his head fell back.

"Fuck!" He cursed. He was so responsive and obedient, there was definitely a submissive streak in him and you were dying to explore it. Maybe later.

His hands slid up the back of your thighs until they reached your butt, where they slipped under the lace. 

You pumped his cock once, twice, three times, tearing as many moans out of him. The fourth one was muffled by your lips on his.

You only broke the kiss when you were light headed, and he chased after your lips, whining softly when you stayed away. Peter finally opened his eyes, resting his forehead against yours, warm brown eyes boring into you even in the dark.

"Pete, are you sure?"

"Yes. God, yes! I wanted this," he confessed, "I wanted you, for so long…"

You averted his eyes. 

"What about…" You trailed off. You weren't sure that you wanted to know the answer to what you were about to ask. But you had to, it would annihilate you if Peter regretted this later. "What about MJ?"

You sounded so unsure, so vulnerable, so unlike the badass secret agent persona he had met that afternoon… Peter realized you weren't only letting him see your body, you were letting him see more, something more intimate: you were letting him see you. 

He kissed you again, softer, slower, cradling your face in his hands, lips moving against yours until he felt you sigh and relax into his embrace. He broke the kiss but his lips never left your skin, placing delicate butterfly kisses on your cheeks, on your jaw.

"It's you. It's always been you" Besides, he had kind of broke up with her when he left her in that alley. Even if he hadn't realized he was in love with someone else, he would have done it, for her own safety. But you knew how to take care of yourself, he didn't need to protect you from his love. He only needed you to accept it. 

And you seemed to do it. Or at least, you had accepted his answer, reaching down between your bodies, finding his cock again. You slid the head up and down your slit, and his hands left your face to grab onto the iron rail of the headboard above his head. You leaned back to look into his eyes, one hand braced on his shoulder, the other guiding him inside you, inch by delicious inch

Peter looked down. Your lacy panties where completely ruined, tugged to the side, trim patch of curls visible just above where his thick shaft disappeared inside you. It was dirty, and obscene and perfect. 

You were perfect. All tight, wet heat around him. Burning him, lighting him up inside, so hot he could feel you browning his skin so right. You were the sun, sparking up what should have been his darkest night. 

By the time you had taken him all the way in, you were as breathless as him. 

"You ok?" 

"More than" Peter gasped. You noticed his hands around the headboard and lifted an eyebrow. "Do-don't… don't wanna hurt you" he explained and you nodded your understanding, before lifting yourself up a few inches, eyes never leaving his as you sank right back down. 

He was beautiful like that, eyes glossy with desire, mouth agape, muscles straining with the effort to keep his hands off you. You had a vision of his hands tied to that very same bed as you screwed yourself hard on his cock, and you vow to yourself to make it a reality before your time on the island was over. You started to build a rhythm, wave after wave of pleasure hitting you as you jumped on the most incredible cock, filling you up so good, so completely, it seemed made just for you. 

"God, you feel so good!"

"Tell me" he begged, sounding desperate, wrecked, as you rode him mercilessly, "please"

"So hard" you moaned, your own hands trailing your tits, your neck, pulling at your hair, "so deep… Fuck, I love this cock!" 

"Fu-fuck!" Peter's hips started bucking up, trying to meet yours. It didn't take long for him to succeed, thrusting up every time you came down, going deeper, hitting your clit just so with his pubic bone.

"Yes! Just like that… you're doing so well, baby boy"

Your praise ignited something inside him, hands letting go of the headboard to wrap around your waist, helping you move. 

You cried out, feeling the heat starting to build 

"Like that, yes, Peter… just like that… keep going"

"I- I can't!.. 'm sorry, I'm gonna… I'm…"

Then you felt it. The little contractions, the warm -warmer than human's- liquid painting your insides. You stopped moving.

"Oh god! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" Peter hid his face with his hands, ashamed, humiliated. You didn't know what to say, too stunned to even get up from his lap. 

"I'm so so sorry!" He kept on babbling, "It's just… you're really hot and… I'd never-"

"Felt something like that?" You spoke at last, trying to pry his hands away from his face to look at him, "Yeah, I know. It was your first time, it was bound to happen. It's completely normal…"

Right. Of course that was the one way he had to be normal. You started to get up, but his hands flew from his face to your hips to stop you.

"No!" He pleaded, eyes full of tears of shame, of frustration. "You didn't…"

You shook your head,

"Peter, it's ok, I enjoyed it, trust me" 

"But it doesn't have to be over" his grip on your hips tightened, "I can keep on, see?"

He bucked his hips and you felt him start to harden again inside you.

"Pete, I like you" maybe a little too much, "You don't have to prove anything to me" 

Peter squared his jaw, a new determination igniting within his eyes, making you gulp. He was going to be damned if he didn't make you come your first time together.

He rolled on top of you, trapping you under his body, still connected to you.

"Tell me you don't want it" He defied, thrusting into you, making you gasp despite yourself.

"I don't want it"

"Liar" he smirked, rolling his hips again, and again. And again, until he was fucking you into the mattress. Maybe he wasn't as submissive as you had first thought. He hooked your legs on his elbows, pushing them up as he pushed into you harder, deeper. 

"You sure this is your first time?" You kidded.

"Told you… wanted you… so long… thought 'bout this… so much" it was getting harder and harder to form complete thoughts, nevermind sentences, especially with you arching your back like that, eyes closing, mouth opening. 

"Really?" You said between moans, "What did you think about?"

"About tasting you" He replied, licking into your open mouth, "about… coming all over your beautiful body… About making you come, over and over, until you beg me to stop…"

He let go of one of your legs to trail his hand up and down your body, taking a detour to play with your breasts, massaging just the way he had seen you do it before, first one, then the other one. You arched your back almost impossibly, pressing yourself into his touch. Your hips started to move but he held you still, splaying his hand just between your hips. 

"If you do that I won't last much, again. And you feel too good to stop…"

You had a feeling he could still just flip you over and fuck you again. You felt his hand on your breast being replaced by his tongue, as his free arm wrapped itself around your waist, lifting you, changing the angle. 

"There" He declared, almost triumphantly as he started grinding against your g-spot with every stroke, making you see stars, every nerve ending in your body coming alight. He could actually feel the different texture of that tiny patch of skin inside you, eyes rolling back every time the head of his cock grazed it. 

Never again was he going to complain about his super senses, not when you were squeezing him so good, shaking in his arms, fingernails digging into his back deep enough to draw blood. 

"Yes, just like that babe, let me feel you come. I wanna feel it baby, I wanna…"

You came screaming his name, and he thrusted into you a couple more times, help in you ride it out. Then he slid out of you, just in time to paint your chest, your belly in white ribbons, marking you as his.

He fell, boneless on top if you, but his weight was comforting rather than suffocating. 

"We're gonna need a safe word" You commented, casually, as if you weren't trying to catch your breath after the best, most mindblowing sex you had had in your short, violent life. 

Peter raised his head from your neck to look at you, confused frown marring his lovely face. 

"If you're really planning on making me come until I beg you to stop, you're gonna need to know when I'm really asking you to stop" You explained, "Ergo, we're gonna need a safe word" 

His eyes went wide, freezing for a few seconds. And then he was kissing you with all he had.

"You, Agent 16, are amazing" He declared, peppering your face with chaste, sweet little kisses.

You laughed, batting his shoulder to get him off you.

"I know, but get off me! We need another shower, You made us all dirty!"

"Or…" He pondered, rolling off you and getting out of the bed, "We could go skinny dipping, get out and get even more dirty…"

You took the hand he offered,

"Oh, I like the way you think, Peter Parker!" 

…

"You know, if you had told me twelve hours ago that something good could come out of Beck exposing my identity and making the whole world believe I'm a murderer, I would probably had call you insane…"

You were laying on the beach, hours later, head on Peter's chest, as the golden rays of sunrise started to appear on the horizon. He had kept his promise, the both of you covered in sand from head to toe after round three… or was it four? 

"You know it doesn't matter, right? What they think, I mean" You stated, as if it was the simplest of facts, "Nick's never going to let you go to jail, and Pepper is not going to allow anyone talk shit about you. She's probably already sending lawsuits to every website and news channel that reproduced that video. They can't touch you" I won't let them.

"So yeah, the gig is up. The lights are up and they know your identity. They know your name and they are going to talk. But they don't matter. As long as you know who you are, they don't matter, the things they say don't matter." 

"No offence, Sixteen" Peter noted, never stopping caressing your back, "but… that's a little rich coming from you"

"I could tell you my name, the one my parents gave me, I mean, you could do a little background checking" You shrugged, "But I'm not that girl anymore. Hell, I think if my parents saw me on the street, they wouldn't recognize me!"

"I'm sorry" Peter could recognize the melancholy behind your nonchalance. Just a few hours, and he was already becoming an expert on you. He realized he was starting to understand what you meant.

"It's ok, I barely miss them now. Maybe I didn't die in the blip, but sometimes I think that girl did… I'm definitely more Sixteen than her, now. The whole secret identity thing is more for their protection than anything"

Peter thought of May, hiding away in the Lake House. Yeah, he could relate to that. He didn't need a name to know who you were. What was in a name after all? Romeo and Juliet had gotten it right; a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet. 

And yes, it would have been easier if things stayed the same, but if they had he wouldn't have you. If stepping into the light was the price he had to pay to keep you, then so be it. As you fell asleep in his arms and the whole world woke up to #Spider-Man trending in every social media, there was no going back. 

Peter Parker was never going back into the shadows.

To be continued...

[kettlequills]

the burning fire within

Henon's shirt rips while he is cutting wood. He takes it to Tinoryn to be mended.

My entry for TES Fest 21, prompts family and apotheosis. CW: referenced character death, fantastic racism - it’s set in Windhelm, you know the drill. I also wrote this in about an hour at 2am last night so, uh, enjoy. On A03 here.

Henon Virith was angry. Nothing new, that. He hefted the axe over his shoulder and brought it down with a satisfying crack. Two neat halves of firewood fell away to collapse perfectly onto the growing stack either side of the chopping stump. He swung the axe again.      Crack.    Again.      Crack. 

He could do this with his eyes closed. Sometimes he did, imagining sneering Windhelm guards under the axe’s blade. Imagined he’d found the insincere bastard that had come swaggering into the Grey Quarter one day, to inform    Henon his mother had been ‘found dead’.

 “Hunting accident, looks like, no sign of her partner,” the guard had said. Had the temerity to look at Henon softly. Henon remembered the words like they’d been burned into his soul.

 “My-”      Crack.     “-condolences-”      Crack.     “-lad.”      Crack.  

 Three more logs joined their split fellows. He rolled his neck until it cracked and kicked the piles in just the right spot to have them topple down neatly so it looked like he stacked them. Another log went on the stump.

 Henon had anger enough to fuel him for years.

 His next chop was powerful enough that his axe stuck into the chopping stump. Helon grunted. Placing one foot on the stump, he grabbed the axe handle and yanked. The burning muscles in his shoulders bunched under his shirt. He tugged, once, twice, then heaved as hard as he could. With a crunching rip, his shirt tore across the shoulders. The axe came loose.

 Henon bit down on his knuckled fist and the molten fury that ignited the sleeping fire in his body. Deliberately, he lowered the axe onto the stump. Then he closed his eyes, exhaled slowly through his gritted teeth, tried to remember the breathing exercises the Priestess had taught him last winter to control his anger. Henon inhaled, exhaled.

 Once. Twice. Three times.

 In his mind’s eye, he pictured the searing rage inside of himself as a bonfire. It would be wild, messy, sparks ripping off the crackling wood like arrows. Heat would roll from it like a wall, and the flames inside would laugh and leap like crackling tongues.

 “That sounds like a good fire, Henon,”    the priestess’ encouraging voice was gentle in his memory. “It’ll keep lots of people warm. But an unchecked fire will set beds alight at night. How much fire do you think we need right now?” 

 “Not much,” Henon muttered aloud.

 Henon imagined, carefully, lovingly, pressing soft cold soil over the edges of the fire, tightening its circle. He kept going, shovelling handfuls round the edges, shaping the fire he saw until it was bright and strong, but no bigger than a hearth-fire, banked and safe for the night.

 One final time, Henon exhaled, then opened his eyes. Calm settled like a blanket onto his stiff shoulders. Without the punishing ache of the anger he’d used to fuel himself, Henon suddenly became aware of just how sore he was, how sweaty, how his arms trembled with fatigue.

 He glanced at the sky. The sun was halfway down the sky, hovering almost directly over the Palace of Kings. No wonder. He’d been chopping wood for hours.

 Henon cast an eye over the piles of wood. His mind ran quickly over the calculations as he vaulted the ice-slick rail onto the steps of Candlehearth Hall. The sums came easy to him; he didn’t need to look twice.

 No Susanna to watch him today, calling laughingly for him to take off his shirt; he’d have to go in and ask for his earnings directly. A shame. Henon liked Susanna. Liked kissing her even more, when she leant down over the railing rosy-cheeked. She was soft, everywhere soft, like bitter anger had never found her. She made quiet animal noises, warm breathy sighs, when he touched her, her breasts, her hips, between them. It was fun, and casual, and she was always happy to see him.

 It didn’t take Henon long to collect his wages and stack the fruits of his efforts by the fireplace. Even sour old Nils was grudgingly silent at the amount, though the door closed on a snappish comment when he saw the rip in Henon’s shirt baring his shoulders.

 Henon jogged down to the Grey Quarter, letting the surge of annoyance work itself out through the drum of his feet on stone. He’d get his sparking shirt fixed. Nils didn’t need -

 Exhaling raggedly, Henon focused on the hearth fire, the little curl of smoke that would lick out the chimney. By the time he had made it to Avalathil Tailoring, he was clearer-headed.

 The tailor’s was poky and small, and the old sign’s paint was curling. Below it, a brazier sat, thickly fed with coals and fire-runes. Henon paused by the brazier, looking down at the soft red glow of the runes, and felt a little surge of warmth that had nothing to do with the brazier.

 Tinoryn. He always left a little flick, right at the end, like a signature.

 Henon went inside.

 “Welcome to Avalathil - oh, hi, Henon.” Tinoryn was bright and cheerful as ever. He bounced up from his stool behind the counter with a wide, infectious grin. “How are you? I thought you were working today. Did you finish early? I’ve heard the ships are coming in, they might want more help unloading if you want extra work. We’ve had two sailors already come in with mendings, and one of them mentioned getting a whole new outfit commissioned, if you can believe that!

 Apparently they went to Solstheim, you know, that island off the coast, you can see it from the Point when it’s clear out? Anyway, well he liked the look of the clothes they wear, and he wanted something similar that wouldn’t ‘have him freeze to death faster than a skinned horker’.”

 Something in him settled at Tinoryn’s chatter. He was always the same, always happy, always with a story to share. Henon found himself smirking as Tinoryn imitated the sailor’s dour tones.

 “I’d want to see that,” he said.

 Tinoryn’s nose wrinkled. “Eurgh! A skinned horker? That’s gross, Henon. It would be all wet and red in there, like muscles! It would bleed everywhere! Though I suppose they do have to skin them to get the furs off. But definitely not while they’re alive! That would be horrible. We      add    clothes, not take them away here. Speaking of,” Tinoryn’s smile, somehow, became even brighter, until Henon swore he could see each and every one of his teeth, “Can I do anything for you? Ruvene’s not here, so you just have me.”

 “That’s just what I want,” Henon said, and shrugged off his shirt. He had to wrestle with the buttons for a moment, and when he looked up, the highs of Tinoryn’s cheekbones had flooded with pink and his soft lips were parted. He didn’t react when Henon thrust the ripped shirt towards him, his gaze trapped somewhere at Henon’s chest. “Tinoryn?”

 Self-consciously, Henon rubbed at his chest. He couldn’t see anything there, apart from maybe a bit of sweat in his chest hair. Tinoryn was much more fastidious than Henon, but it was just      sweat.    Tinoryn’s attention made him feel odd, prickly-warm, like he wanted to square his shoulders and straighten his back. He’d been shirtless around him plenty before.

 Tinoryn blinked, then his eyes refocused on Henon’s face and he was back to beaming. “Yes! Of course, I’ll take that. Just another fix? Hmm, yes, you’ve torn it, right across the shoulders. Nasty! But it won’t take that long and it’s been dead in here today, all of our orders are all done that I can do without Ruvene’s permission, and you      know    I’ve read everything I brought. I have been so bored I started talking to the mannequin. I’m calling it Dolly. Because it’s a doll? Or a mannequin, I suppose. A doll for clothes. I can do it for you right now! We’ll have to add in a panel here for you if you keep broadening up though.”

 “Not now,” Henon interrupted uneasily, “Just - can you fix it? Like it was?”

 Tinoryn’s eyes softened. “Yes, just like it was. I know how important this is. It suits you, by the way. It’s the last one, isn’t it? From your father, Azura keep him.”

 “Thanks. And yeah.” It sounded a bit strangled, but Henon couldn’t bring himself to care.

 It was stupid, probably, but he trusted Tinoryn not to mess it up. Ruvene would have just added the panel to the back, grumbling at Henon for sentimentality. But of the shirts that Henon had inherited from his father, the others were gone, all torn, ripped, mended to oblivion by Tinoryn, or lost over the years. When he wore it, he thought of their shapes, how they were probably the same in the arm, but that his father’s wrists had maybe been thicker, because it was stretched there. Henon didn’t remember much of his father. Henon had not been that old when he’d been found dead on the docks, sitting on one of the crates he was meant to be unloading, frozen to death with a peaceful smile.

  “Uh, how much?”

 He fumbled awkwardly for his belt pouch, but Tinoryn was already waving him away with a sunny smile.

 “Ruvene’s not here,” he said conspiratorially, “No one will know, let me just fetch my needle and thread. Besides, no need to charge for such a simple fix.” He hopped up and rummaged around under the counter, fishing out a small wooden box with a triumphant, “Ha! There you are. I swear it hides… You know I can teach you to do this, if you want.”

 Slipping a silver thimble onto his thumb, Tinoryn pulled Henon’s sweaty shirt into his lap. He eyed the rip critically, holding the needle between his lips as he threaded it. Henon watched, impressed by his dexterity.

 “I don’t need to know,” said Henon dismissively. “You’ll do it.”

 Tinoryn smiled down at Henon’s shirt. “That’s true.”

 Henon rounded the counter and dragged Ruvene’s unused stool over with a clattering scrape of groaning wood. He slumped onto it and rested his tired arms on the countertop with a groan. Their knees pushed together under the counter for space, Tinoryn’s bony leg warm against his even through layers of clothes.

 “You don’t have to stay, it’ll take me a moment,” Tinoryn added, glancing at him from under his eyelashes as he stitched. They were thick and dark, curly like his hair.

 “I’ll wait,” said Henon. He didn’t have many other shirts, and besides, whenever Tinoryn’s bright eyes strayed to Henon’s bare torso, the tips of his ears flushed cherry-red. It made Henon feel powerful in a way he couldn’t describe, like how he felt when Susanna clung to him brokenly when he touched her. Like Henon was the only ship in a storm he had created.

 “Alright then,” said Tinoryn, and then he quieted, concentrating on his work.

 Henon fiddled with a coin as he waited, a septim from this morning’s earnings. It flew, golden gleaming, around his slate-grey knuckles, spinning over the countertop like he held it on an invisible string. Idly, he played a counting game with himself, one taught over long hours of solitary boredom.      One, two, three    spins to the right,      seven, eight, nine,    to the left, one flick up,      twelve.    Then back around again, adding each number of spins, until he tired of it. Numbers were easy, but soothing, too. They were predictable.

 He was beginning to feel tired, sleepy, even. His fatigue was catching up to him. The pressure of Tinoryn’s leg against his was comfortable, the sound of his breathing familiar. The shop was warm and quiet, a little dusty in places, with thick bolts of fabric hanging down from the walls. The mullioned windows were frosted white, dim shapes passing by and setting distant shadows to chase each other across the rolling hillocks of prepared cloth. Dolly the mannequin waited patiently in one corner, crowned by a glorious confection of gull-feathers and snowberries wrapped in stained jade silk, someone’s earnest attempt, Henon thought, at making spring into a hat.

 Henon flipped the coin into the air and caught it, a shining disc like the sun held between his thumb and forefinger.

 “Wow,” said Tinoryn from beside him. “How did you do that? That’s amazing! You just caught it, so fast!”

 Henon glanced over, and Tinoryn’s expression was unreserved and inquisitive, brilliant with pleasure at the trick. “It’s not hard,” he said, uncertain how to name the feeling that Tinoryn’s eagerness aroused in him. “You just, look, like this,” he demonstrated.

 “Can I try?” Tinoryn asked, eyes round, and Henon handed the coin over.

 Tinoryn made a valiant attempt at throwing the coin, but it hit his hand as it fell, rebounding sharply off his knuckle and disappearing into the darkness below the counter. “Ouch!” exclaimed Tinoryn, “Oh, that is      much    harder than it looks. You made it seem so easy! Do you want me to find your coin - oh-”

 Henon had already slid off the stool into a crouch, scanning the darkness for a glint of gold. He grunted, it was dark, and dusty under the counter, cluttered with boxes and cloth scraps. He spotted one or two needles, but no coin.

 “Here, let me help,” Tinoryn said above him, and Henon looked up at the gentle      snap    of fire crackling into existence.

 What he saw then arrested him completely.

 It was Tinoryn, just Tinoryn, but… Tinoryn was leaning forward on the stool, his boot planted on the floor to stop him from falling. Henon reached to touch his calf, felt the muscles engaged in supporting his weight through his trousers, and had no words for the nameless surge of feeling that pooled in his gut.

 In one hand, Tinoryn held Henon’s shirt, the other, a crackling fire spell, humming with magic and energy. He was smiling, as always, bright and soft, and the flickering firelight shimmered off his dark, curly hair, the hint of wetness on his lip. The ties that held his shirt (soft green, like grass) were loose, leaving space for the shadows of the fire to race over his collarbones, a smooth triangle of soft grey skin of Tinoryn’s skinny chest. Henon felt his mouth flood with saliva, felt the strangest urge to lave his tongue along the arches of Tinoryn’s collarbones, scrape his teeth over the skin until it reddened like the tips of his ears.

 Tinoryn’s eyes had always been bright, ever since they were children. It was one marker of being a strong mage, that slight lambent glow, like the magic couldn’t quite be contained within him. But now, they looked like the heart of a fire, or maybe lava, brilliant, burning, changing everything in its path. Like a beginning, like being reforged anew, into something divine, Henon felt blood rise warm on his cheeks, knew Tinoryn could see how it flushed his chest ruddy. He wanted -

 “I think I see it,” Tinoryn said happily, breaking the spell. “Down there, see, just under that - yes, you’ve got it, there!”

 Henon cleared his throat, feeling bizarrely awkward as he slipped the coin back into his pouch. It was just Tinoryn. He straightened up, stretching his back until his spine popped.

 “Thanks,” he said, “for the light.”

 “Thank you for the practice!” Tinoryn’s face lit up again. “I finished your shirt, by the way! All done, good as new.”

 Henon traced his fingertip over the mend. He could barely see it. Tinoryn had done a great job.

 “Thanks,” he said again, and reached out to clasp the back of Tinoryn’s neck, his thumb pressing into his curls. They were soft. Tinoryn’s neck was warm and solid under his palm. “It looks good,” Henon added, not wanting to be churlish, but as he stared down at Tinoryn he was not quite sure if he could even remember what the shirt looked like.

“Oh,” said Tinoryn, and his hands clenched oddly in his lap like he was holding them down, and his face flamed red. His ears were pricked forward though, clearly pleased. “It’s my - pleasure, Henon, really.”

 “Say,” said Henon, “you want to get out of here? I reckon we could go and nail some helmets with rocks down in the training yard round this sort of time.”

 Clearly tempted, Tinoryn bit his lip. Henon watched his teeth press down on the soft flesh and catch on tiny ragged edges of skin, saw how it made his lips flush pinker, saw the wet dart of his tongue. He tightened his grasp on Tinoryn’s neck, thumb smoothing down his hairline, feeling the tiny feathery hairs there tickle his skin.

 “I can’t,” said Tinoryn, sounding truly disappointed. “I have to watch the shop for Ruvene.”

 “Alright,” shrugged Henon. He grabbed the edge of the counter and heaved himself up to sit on it, grinning at Tinoryn’s delighted surprise. Now he was here, Henon found that he didn’t particularly want to leave. After all, the tiny tailor’s shop did have      something    in it that held his interest. “Guess I’ll teach you that coin trick while we wait.”

 Tinoryn’s radiant smile in answer was more than enough.

[harryandmolly]

fear and loathing in mandeville canyon *6*

summary: Shawn & Lilly, derailed, detoured, but maybe not destroyed

warnings: language, not all fluff is fluffy (ya feel?), a chapter pic that walked into my hands and curled up and fell asleep

wc: 3.7k

---------

Lilly’s eyes slide shut. There’s no fighting it now, not when he’s kissing her throat like this, mouthing at her like a melting ice cream cone.

She kind of feels like one. It’s summer in Southern California, even though it’s May. They’ve started sharing Lilly’s balcony bedroom and can’t agree on whether to keep the doors open when they sleep. She still gets weird about the bird that flew in and woke them up that one time by shitting on her yoga mat. He likes the nature sounds, though. It reminds him of Pickering even more than his place in Toronto does. They’re not actually secluded out here but it feels like it sometimes, in a nice way. 

It also doesn’t help, he supposes, that every mosquito in LA county finds a way to get under their sheets and bite her, and only her, when they leave a door or window open for airflow. He tells her it’s because she’s so sweet. She swears at him.

She won the battle last night, so the doors and windows are closed. The air is stagnant. In such an old house, the central air isn’t great. They’ve kicked all their sheets off and are down to their underwear. He likes the way her skin tastes a little salty-sweaty. 

He’s not after anything other than holding her. In the few weeks since they’ve started back up again, their sex life has been borderline out of control. Shawn is chalking it up to lost time.

He likes the way she sighs and slips her fingers into his hair like she’s resigned to his attentions. He keeps his hands north of her underwear, conscious of not making her feel like she’s merely an outlet. He’s just… happy. He could count on two hands the number of nights they got to sleep in the same bed before they broke up. This is the height of luxury for him.

Shawn murmurs contentedly into the column of her neck. “Your skin’s so soft,” he whispers, skimming his nose beneath her jaw, “How do you get it like that?”

She giggles. He’s on fire, pleasantly burning.

“You saw my truckload of sheet masks. They’re not for decoration.”

Shawn pulls his head up, flipping his curls out of his eyes. He overdoes it, still used to having a lot more hair than he does now. She smooths it away for him.

“I’ve been bad lately,” he confesses, wrinkling his nose, “I ran out of the stuff Anna gave me like a month ago. And I do sheet masks a lot more when we’re touring, being on the bus and shit.”

Lilly looks crestfallen. Shawn lifts his brows in question.

“The only reason I’m in bed with you is to steal your outrageously expensive skincare.”

Her convincingly innocent expression goes impish so fast he’s glad he didn’t blink. He grunts and skims his teeth against her jaw as he laughs, swatting at her ass.

“Are you gonna share your masks or what?”

Ten minutes later, he has one of her terrycloth headbands pushing his hair back and Lilly almost sitting on his bare chest as she carefully presses the slick sheet to his face. She taught him how to make little cuts along the forehead, eyes, lips and jaw to fit it to your face best. It’s still too small for his giant head, but Lilly’s determined.

“There,” she declares, scooting back over his ribs. Shawn lifts his hands to her thighs, rubbing them softly as he watches her apply her own, expertly snipping the center of her nose flap to fold it up and out of the way of her piercing.

Shawn shuts his eyes and lulls himself further into this intoxicating calm with her.

“What’re these supposed to do?”

“Brighten, boost collagen, support cell turnover.”

Lilly flops on her back beside him. She nestles into the sheets and groans like they haven’t been lying in bed all day. She sneaks her fingers in between his. His nose twitches as he tries not to smile and fuck up his mask.

He rubs his thumb against the back of her hand.

Her whisper is quiet, strained. “Stop making me smile, you’re going to fuck up my mask.”

+

It’s Shawn’s turn to make breakfast. So, eggs.

Lilly swings her legs against the counter as she sits across from him, curating a playlist because you know when you just wake up and it’s a Beach Boys morning?

Apparently it’s a Beach Boys morning. Shawn has no arguments. Even if he did, he’s too distracted to voice them. It’s arriving today, all of it. As much of a professional recording studio as can be packaged and very carefully, very expensively delivered to their rental. Lilly’s been trying to keep him engaged since they woke up, they even braved taking their first masked walk around their neighborhood. Apart from the possibility of a rogue and well-hidden phone camera, he thinks they made it out without being spotted. As far as Shawn can tell, the internet thinks he’s in Toronto. He’s comfortable keeping it that way.

Turns out even aside from worming back into Lilly’s life, LA was a good idea. His team came up with a whole plan to keep him busy and keep him recording, but it would’ve been much harder to execute if he were a country away. He has Zoom sessions with producers lined up and instruments being tracked at other home studios, all the ones he can’t do himself, anyway. Now he just needs the equipment.

Shawn is folding spinach, mushrooms and onion into what he hopes is omelet-shaped eggs, kind of, sort of, when his phone buzzes hard against the granite.

“Ohmygodthey’rehere,” he hisses, barreling toward the front door without shutting off the burners, leaving Lilly swearing at him in his wake.

The proceeding half hour of large, larger, and largest Pelican cases being hauled into the living room is torture. It’s like if you had to watch your mum and dad bring all the presents from downstairs and stack them strategically under the Christmas tree before you got to rip them open. Once the delivery guys leave, they spend another half hour wiping down every square inch of the case surfaces with Clorox and taking stock of the equipment.

Shawn looks to Lilly, pained and squirming. She snorts.

“Go for it, champ.”

Shawn descends, Lilly close behind him. In another two hours, they spread everything out on the floor in relative chaos and exhaust themselves to the point of near panic.

Shawn scrapes his hands over his face and into his hair, grabbing at it to ground himself. “We just… I dunno, we gotta call Andrew or Teddy or somebody, we can’t do this alone, it’s too much.”

Lilly sits on her knees in front of a case full of long polls on stands that he can’t remember the name of. She makes a sour face and her high ponytail bobs against her cheek. His stupid sentimental heart swells.

“I hate it when you make me the positive one. Shawn, it’s fine. We need food, we need coffee, we need a strategy, this is fine. This is fine!” Her pitch rises noticeably at the end of her short pep talk. It’s distractingly anxious.

Shawn looks around hopelessly at the thousands of dollars of equipment strewn across the living room floor until she drags him by the wrist into the kitchen. They pass on their now sad and definitely burnt omelet and order from Eggslut, promising each other that they’ll have Sweetgreen salads for dinner.

Back on the floor, barefoot and hungry, they toss ideas back and forth between bites of brioche egg sandwiches. By the time the tater tots are gone, Shawn is off the ledge, coaxed slowly and with care (and carbs). 

The plan is, essentially, a giant blanket fort. Since the living room is at the back of the house away from the street and the pool, it’s nice and quiet, but they need absolute silence for a clean track. They scout out a cozy corner, working around the baby grand, with enough room for the mics and recording equipment, plus a couch for Lilly if she promises to be very quiet.

“Ok so if we get the C-stands up around eight and a half feet, that should clear the mics,” Lilly declares, dragging sound-deadening furni pads out of another case.

Shawn’s head falls back. “C-stand. That’s it. Shit, I couldn’t come up with it earlier.”

Lilly winks and begins sorting them by size. Shawn turns to a case of C-stands and plucks one from a folded bunch. Within 25 seconds, he’s struggling, kicking at the legs and turning dials that don’t seem to do shit.

Lilly’s little hands appear in his view as she gently handles it, demonstrating the way the legs swing out and the stand rises. 

“You’re so handy,” he praises teasingly, slipping his fingers between hers. She willingly releases the stand and slides around behind him, shrugging her arms around his stomach. He tries to peer at her over his shoulder and wonders if she can feel the way his pulse increases.

“Sorry, did you say ‘handsy?’” she murmurs, pushing her fingers beneath the elastic of his gym shorts. He holds his breath, muscles tensing everywhere. Just as soon as she’s there, suddenly she’s gone, nibbling away at his shoulder blade as he whistles an exhale through his nose. He chuckles and turns in her arms.

“Guess I gotta be the brains and the braun on this one,” Lilly says, lifting onto her toes and pecking his lips. Shawn grunts, looking to hold her a little longer, but she squirms away.

Lilly got her Beach Boys after all, on the house speakers at an almost egregious volume. They continue working, stringing up furni pad “walls” on C-stands and gathering extra throws and rugs from around the house. The problem is the fort’s ceiling.

“We can suspend them from the chandelier, as long as some of the weight still rests on the walls. But how do we get up there, can you reach? No. Wait-- no, no, is there a ladder? There has to be a ladder,” Lilly rants, turning circles beneath the chandelier until Shawn intervenes, catching at her arm.

“I’m your ladder.”

Lilly blinks, then squints. “Terrible plan.”

Shawn balks. “Great plan!”

“What, you’re gonna lift me? For minutes on end? It’s going to take a while.”

“You can sit on my shoulders. And that way I can keep you company,” he quips with a crooked grin. He likes the way his smile makes her smile.

“Shawn, no, you haven’t even been working out recently, and--”

Her realization of her own mistake takes over her face. Now that she’s made it sound like she doesn’t think he’s capable, he won’t leave it alone until she lets him prove it. She sighs.

“I can do it, Lill, you’re really not heavy. C’mon, I can always put you down. It’ll be fine!”

She cringes. “Famous last words, Mendes.”

Shawn corrals her with confidence and kisses until she’s sitting on the edge of the bar counter with her legs out as Shawn crawls beneath her and into position with her thighs on his shoulders. 

“Three… two… one…,” Shawn grunts, ignoring Lilly’s persistent “oh god, oh god” muttering under her breath. He uses his lower body to press himself to stand. Lilly squeaks a little, clenching her legs tightly against his chest. He squeezes his hands on her quads with a little laugh.

“Told you. Did you seriously think I was gonna fuckin’ drop you?”

“I didn’t think you’d mean to,” Lilly mutters. She tugs once at his curls and presses into him again, giving him a feel for just what all those tree poses were for.

“Giddy up.”

One step at a time, they waddle beneath the chandelier. Lilly hooks up the loops she ingeniously sewed onto the furni pads to heavy duty Command hooks and sticks them up to the ceiling, one by one. The final pad goes up and the world goes dark.

“Oh my god,” Lilly breathes.

Shawn exhales. “We fuckin’ did it.”

Lilly lets out a squeak and smacks at his chest. “High five me!”

“I can’t see you!”

With a final uncoordinated scramble, Shawn kneels and Lilly stumbles off his shoulders. They fall into a puddle, enclosed in the quiet darkness.

“Thank you,” Shawn whispers, reaching out to touch whatever he finds. It happens to be her belly, where her shirt has ridden up. Her abs contract. He fights a goofy smile, even in the dark.

“I knew it was important to you.”

Shawn seeks her out. He can’t help it. He wriggles around until his head replaces his hand on her stomach, and links their fingers.

“I need to ask you something.”

Shawn looks up where her face should be in the blackness. He nods.

“How… many songs are about her? I just need to prepare myself for it.”

Shawn wishes he could see her face now. He thinks her voice is steady, but he can always read her face better. Whatever it is, it’s always in those big blue eyes.

“A lot,” he says honestly, “I went on a writing spree when we first got together. It was confusing, I think, because there was so fuckin’ much going on in my head. But writing about her helped… I dunno. I think it distracted me from how I still felt about you.”

He feels her swallow, but doesn’t hear it. The panic starts to rise, pushing him to keep talking.

“I don’t know what recording these songs is gonna feel like, Lill. I’m scared there isn’t gonna be any life in them. Because I don’t feel those things anymore. That’s why I left.”

Lilly sits up. Shawn’s head slides into her lap. His pulse is in his ears. He’s sick to his stomach.

“How do I know you didn’t say the same fucking thing to her when you left me?”

There’s no anger in it, just hurt. Shawn sits up, shaking his head, even though he knows she can’t see.

“Lill, please, I’m sorry. I really am. Fuck, I know it’s… it’s shitty. I can’t pretend to get it from your side. And I really don’t want to hurt you again.”

Her huff is aggravated, but she’s not running. He clings to hope.

“Well, it’s gonna hurt, Shawn, there’s kind of no getting around that if 90% of your album is ‘I finally got the girl’ songs.”

Shawn knows very little about life in general, he recognizes that, but he knows better than to argue the percentage right now. Tentatively, he reaches for her, finding her knee.

“Tell me what you need.”

“I don’t know,” she snaps. Shawn draws his hand back and feels his chest tighten. It can’t end like this. Not after everything.

“Ok,” Shawn breathes, nodding to himself, ready to collect his shredded dignity and search on his hands and knees for the flap of furni pad they designed as the door.

Her hand stops him. She grabs at him clumsily in the dark, then finds his wrist. She can probably feel his pulse in her small fingers.

“You know I’d never, ever tell you not to record a song, right?”

There’s a desperation he barely recognizes in her voice. He nods until he remembers she can’t see him.

“Yeah, Lill.”

“Because I wouldn’t. I’d never try to take something like that away from you. I know you would sooner die before putting anything on a record that you don’t think belongs there, and it belongs there because you love it. I’d never want you to put that aside for my feelings.”

“I know,” he whispers tenderly, smoothing the pad of his thumb across the tendons of her wrist.

“Ok,” she says, creeping back toward calm, “Good. Then… do what you’re gonna do. Make the best fucking record. And we’ll figure it out.”

Shawn ducks his head. He knows ‘lucky’ doesn’t begin to cover it. But now when he writes, he works on finding a bunch of other words to help him get there.

Lilly exhales through her nose. It’s quiet for a few long seconds. Until--

“I’m so getting producer credit for all this shit, by the way.”

+

“This was a bad idea,” Lilly groans.

Shawn looks over at her. She’s shrugged into a ball in the front seat of his rented Range Rover. Her knees cover her masked face. Her eyes dart anxiously.

“Stop doing that,” he sighs, reaching over with one hand and pushing at her knees, “The windows are tinted. You’re wearing a mask. I’m wearing a mask. It’s fine, honey.”

Even with half her face covered, Lilly looks skeptical. He leaves his hand on her thigh and rubs circles with his thumb while they sail down an uncharacteristically empty Mulholland Drive.

Shawn was desperate to get out. They’ve barely left the property in six weeks, an unignorable reminder of their privilege. But while Lilly would very happily never see a human again as long as she lives, Shawn is a Leo.

“Yeah, and?” he prods after she reminds him of his astrological sign over post-workout protein smoothies.

“And that means you are not a happy camper without a spotlight. In your case both literally and metaphorically.”

He laughed and kissed her. She let him.

But the drive was a tough sell. Even though he promised they wouldn’t get out anywhere, even in a socially distant setting, it felt like a risk to Lilly. It took the reassurance of the windows and the masks to even get her in the car.

Now that they’re here, Shawn feels something heavy in his chest dissolving that he didn’t realize was there. He sings along to Spotify and drums on the steering wheel and points out crazy houses as they wind through various canyon neighborhoods, Lilly’s favorite.

“It took what, two days for pap photos to show up of you guys walking around her neighborhood in Miami? That was Miami, Shawn. How do you not expect paps to be stalking every tinted-out Range Rover within 5 square miles of Beverly Hills?”

Shawn’s thumb stills. He tilts his head back and forth at a stop sign, stretching his neck.

“We called them.”

Lilly looks up at him. “Hmm?”

“The paps in Miami, they were there because our teams called them.”

Lilly’s brows pull together. “But there were pictures almost everyday. For like, a week.”

“Yeah,” Shawn sighs, “I know.”

Lilly is silent and contemplative. He starts up the soothing rubbing of her skin, even if it’s more effective for him than for her.

“It’s just that if they do happen to find us, that’s it. We’re officially on the radar. Everyone will know you broke up, everyone will know we’ve been staying together. For weeks, Shawn. It sends a very clear message.”

They roll to a stop at a light somewhere near Outpost Estates. Shawn tugs his mask down below his chin.

“I’m prepared for all of that. It’s ok if you’re not, if you’d rather keep it quieter this time, I totally get it. Things are… different now. But you’re not my dirty little secret, Lills, you never have been and I will never let you feel that way.”

Lilly cedes, dropping her own mask and wetting her lips. “I don’t want to… hide. I just want you to be prepared for the fact that a lot more people are going to be mad at you for leaving her for me than were mad when you left me for her.”

The light turns green. Shawn bites his lip and presses the gas. They drive in silence for a while.

“Did I scare you?”

Shawn startles a little at the sound of her voice and cracks a little smile.

“No, baby, you didn’t. I mean, I know the deal by now. It’s just… so fucking unfair to you.”

Shawn finds a quiet little cul de sac that backs up against a wooded area. He parks and turns the music down.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Lilly pleads only half playfully, “I know fandom at least as well as you do. It’s ok.”

“But how?” Shawn insists, squinting at her, “How is it ok? The things people say to you, and you’re not even a public figure. How does it not get to you?”

Lilly smiles sadly. “It does sometimes. But I decided a long time ago that you were worth it.”

The guilt weighs heavily all over again. Leaving her feels unfathomable now, like it wasn’t a year ago that he did it, but ten years. That was a stupid kid version of him then. He knows so much better now. He hopes he does.

Shawn links their fingers and draws Lilly’s knuckles to his lips. He watches her over the top of them. She sinks happily into her seat and goes a lovely shade of pink.

“If I wrote down how many times I day I think about how fucking crazy I am about you, the world would be out of paper.”

Lilly cackles, tossing her head back. Her laugh makes him laugh.

“What?” he giggles.

“What a line!” she crows.

“That wasn’t a line, that was from my deep and lyrical heart!”

“That was the line-iest line that has ever lined. Shawn Mendes, you smooth motherfucker.”

He rolls his eyes but can’t stop grinning. “Shut up. I’m never saying anything nice to you again.”

“Mmm, you can’t help it, honey, you’re Canadian.”

He huffs an exhale through his nose and closes his eyes. Her thumb is soft and warm against the back of his hand.

“And apparently really fucking crazy about me,” she adds softly. He tilts his head and opens one eye to look at her.

“I am. Can’t remember why though.”

Lilly’s lips pucker as she considers a thought. Shawn’s legs tingle.

“Put the seats down in the back and I’ll happily remind you.”

Shawn feels his eyes go comically wide. Lilly’s lips spread into a Cheshire cat smile.

“You’re kidding. You’re not kidding?”

“I’m actually super not kidding.”

He hears her laughing as he leaps out of the car and crawls into the trunk to put the seats down. She doesn’t stop until the trunk closes behind them and his lips are on her earlobe.

-----------

Taglist: @smallerinfinities​ @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn​ @infiniteshawn​ @mendesoft @singanddreamanyway​ @alone-in-madness​ @abigfatmess​ @shawnitsmutual​ @awkwardfangirl2014​ @september-lace​ @sinplisticshawn​ @rollingxstone​ @randi-eve​ @fallmoreinlove @heyits-claire​ @itrocksmysocks​ @parkerspicedlatte​ @simpledomain​ @abeautiful-and-cloudy-day​ @thecurlsofgod​ @magcon7280​ @bensbuttercup​ @shawnsmusical​ @paigeasourous​ @tell-me-when-ur-ready​ @softmendesss​ @searchingunderthestars​ @buggy-blogs​ @mendesficsxbombay​ @siennarossi​ @lostinshawnsmemory​ @umbreakablesoul​ @sleepybesson​ @shawnsheaven @poseshawn​ @shaawnie @shawn-youth​ @graysonmendes​

[fanfic-fanfic-everywhere]

In the Clouds

Felix Volturi X Reader 

Request for @prettyinblack231  

Word Count: 2,306 

One thing was for sure, word spread fast in the supernatural world. The Cullen’s had successfully escaped a stand off with the Volturi with their entire coven intact. You had meant to go be a witness for them, you really had. However, your fear, like many others, prevented you from that. Now with the fear of your immortal life ending gone, you had to see this strange child for yourself. 

That’s how you found yourself standing in their backyard hesitantly making your way up their steps. 

A large man met you at the door, “Hi, can I help you?” He smiled a half smile to appear less threatening. 

‘Emmett, it’s her!!” a small woman suddenly appeared at his side. She was smiling like you were the best thing she had ever seen. Your knitted brow must’ve reminded her you were out of the loop. 

“My name’s Alice! You’re (Y/N), right?” She grabbed your hand and pulled you into the doorway. 

“That’s me,” you nervously smiled. 

“Well, I know you’re just here to meet Reneseme, but I really think you’re going to like it here!” She chirped. 

And she was right. Once you had met all of the members of the Coven, you had fallen in love with their family. And three days later, when Carlise asked you if you would like to join them, you swore you cried on the inside. From there began two months of changes, mostly to your diet, laughter, and just overall peace with the Coven and within yourself. 

In the first week of March, Alice had a vision. Edward, Carlise, and herself kept it very secretive; you would catch them whispering in tones so low you only caught bits and pieces. 

None of what you caught raised much alarm in you, until you caught a very key phrase,” If the Volturi are coming…” 

“The Volutri are coming?” you asked in alarm without thinking. 

Nine pairs of eyes were immediately on you. 

Edward heaved a big sigh as Carlise smiled gently at you, “Yes, (Y/N). They’re just coming to check on Renesemes growth and our Coven. As far as we know, it’s just the Upper Guard, so they won’t be much interested in anything, but her.” Little did you all know that he was so very wrong. 

Two days later you found yourself standing in the backyard, where your time with the Cullen’s had begun. The guard was coming, and you weren’t very good at hiding your anxiousness from your family. 

Rosalie smiled over at you and rubbed your upper back,” It’ll be fine.” 

You offered her a small smile. In your almost 15 years of being a vampire you had never met any of the Volturi. Your situation wasn’t uncommon. Most vampires who follow the laws and lay low enough may never meet them, you only wished you had been so lucky. 

When they broke through the clearing your eyes immediately darted around in an attempt to not look them in the eyes. You settled on staring at a small dandelion by your foot. It was nearly spring now, so the common weeds were starting to pop through what grass had decided to grow back. You made a mental note to talk to Esme about spraying around the house with weed killer later. 

“She’s grown,” came a smug yet feminie voice. You spared a glance upward to look at its owner. This was Jane no doubt. She stood at the front of a small diamond formation the four of them had decided to make. To her left stood a boy who looked identical, only slightly taller, you were for sure this was Alec. His gift was to be feared more than his sisters in your eyes. The mere thought of feeling nothing, seeing nothing, and just not being able to sense anything made your immortal skin crawl. 

“It was expected that she would.” Edward's voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you watched as he shifted himself slightly in front of his daughter.  

“It was merely an observation,” said the man to Jane’s right. This must’ve been Demetri. The greatest tracker known to your kind, able to hone in on exactly where anyone is in the world by just the tenor in the voice. He was also a casanova from what Rosalie had told you. 

“You’ve added to your coven,” a deep voice that nearly floored you with how smooth and inviting it sounded observed from behind Demetri. 

Panic set into your chest as Carlise turned to smile at you, and then back to the guards. 

“This is (Y/N), she was looking for a place to stay and joined us about two months ago.” He explained. 

“Where are you originally from, (Y/N)?” the same voice inquired. You hadn’t met his eyes or looked at him yet, but you knew who he was. The whole vampiric world knew who he was. The executioner. 

“New York, a nomad changed me by accident.” You replied, looking up at him finally. You met his eyes in a bold move, and if you had still been human the wind would’ve been knocked right out of your lungs. He was gorgeous with a face you swore was sculpted by the Gods themselves. He gasped as if he had felt the same gut punch you had and the playful glint that had been in his eyes disappeared and turned into anger. You weren’t quite sure what you had done, so you stumbled a step backward to only bump into Jaspers chest. Jasper wrapped a hand around your upper arm and held you in place as your family, and the remaining guards, watched Felix turn and storm back into the woods from which he had come. You weren’t sure why, but this action from him panged your heart as if he had hurt you. 

You tore your eyes from where he had disappeared into the woods to find a mix of red and yellow eyes on you. You felt the panic rise your chest again, and the familiar twangs of a panic attack set into your body. You barely felt Jasper speeding you into the house and up to your room. Shouts from outside rose into your room, forcing you to listen to the confusion and then the outcry from Jane and Alec as they realized what had just happened. 

The executioner had found his mate. Felix Volutri, who was determined he’d never find his other half, had found it in you. 

A breathless sob that seemed to go on for minutes wracked the Cullen household. It seemed to shake the windows, and rattle your bookshelves. Once it ended you only then realized it had come from you. 

Gentle hands your shoulders, and on instinic your own hands flew up to grab their forearms. 

“What just happened?” Your eyes shot up to meet Esme’s. 

“You found your mate,” she half smiled in the motherly manner that made you miss your own mother so much, “The feelings that come with it are powerful as you can tell. I’m sure he’s just overwhelmed. He’ll come back.” 

Esme’s words seemed logical. It felt as if your whole world had been flipped upside down. The ground from under your feet had been ripped away like a tablecloth in a bad magic show. You were now standing on the gray clouds that plagued the Washington skies, and the only person that could ever stand on them with you was Felix. 

Only, he never came back to stand on the clouds with you. He left you to swelter in the storm that came slowly in the following months. And as it started to rain from your feet, you felt the burning in your heart. It only started to thunder the day you received a rather strongly worded voicemail from an Italian number. The thunder was his words. It rumbled in his voice telling you that he would rather be torn to pieces than be mated to you. A vegetarian coward, he had called you. You’re just too scared to own up to the fact you’re damned whether you kill humans or not, he had told you. And then the lightning started every time you listened to his voice. His words startled you like the thunder, but the sound of his voice electrified you from the inside out. Eventually the skies grew darker than they ever had been, and so did your eyes. What was the use of feeding if the very person made for you didn’t want you to exist. 

The winds turned violent the day Bella had grabbed you to try and force you to eat. You grabbed her hands off of you and threw her away from you. The moment you had realized what you had done, you ran and didn’t stop. 

You picked back up your human diet and in a violent way. You were turning reckless, and you couldn’t force yourself to care. If the Volturi wanted you dead maybe he would do it. Maybe you’d hear his voice one last time, and in your final moments feel his hands on you like you craved. Your craving for him had far out wayed your craving for blood anymore. Several times you had almost booked a flight to Italy, but then you listened to his voicemail again. He clearly didn’t want you, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t tell him how you felt. 

So as you sat on top of a building looking down into Times Square, you hit redial. It rang for several seconds until you heard a click. No voicemail message blurted out at you. Someone had answered; how your dead heart hoped it was him. 

“I don’t know if it’s you,” you began,” But if it is please listen to me. All I ask is for two minutes.” 

No one answered, and yet no one hung up. You let out a shaky laugh. 

“Why would you just leave? All you know is my name and where I’m from. You know nothing of my past, just like I know nothing of yours,” you breathed out,” But what’s done is done. I’m drowning. I left Cullen's months ago. I’m more violent now than I ever was as a newborn. I picked my human blood diet back up; I was only vegetarian because I was with them.” 

You swallowed hard, and paused, hoping for a response.

When you got none you sighed again,” I’m reckless. I feel like that's the only way I’m ever going to see you again. I listen to your voicemail and the hurtful words you say to me because that's the only time I feel anything anymore. I want to do something stupid like exposed myself in hopes that you and the guard come find me and kill me. Because even though I don’t know you, I can't live without you.” 

You were dry sobbing now, “If this is goodbye forever, Felix, then so be it.” 

Heaving a great sigh you quoted,” I love you with so much of my heart, that there is none left to protest. Much Ado About Nothing, Shakespear, Act 5 Scene 1,” and pressed end. 

You fell back onto the roof and studied the night stars. You laid there until early in the morning when the peaks of the sunrise came from above the buildings. Gathering yourself from the rooftop you made a short walk in the alleyways to your apartment. Jiggling the keys in the door you swung it open to only stop and stare. 

There he stood. Felix. His chocolate hair was shaggier now, it suited him better as it framed his face. The black sweater he wore was form fitting showing almost every single detail in his arm muscles. The Volturi crest hung from his neck and landed in the middle of his chest. You raised your eyes to meet his pained ones. 

Pulling the keys from the door you shut it behind you, and placed your keys on the kitchen counter beside the door. Then did you notice his suit jacket draped over your kitchen chair, and a black phone sitting, abandoned, on the counter. 

You tore your eyes away from the phone back to him, “You’ve been here all night.” 

He nodded, and reached out a hand to you. You slipped yours into it; it felt right, you were sure nothing would feel more right. Until he pulled you into his arms. Your hands were placed firmly on him; one on a firm mass of muscle on his shoulder and the other firmly squeezing his hand. You were sure that if you let go he would disappear again, only this time forever.

The only thing keeping you from thinking that this wasn't a hallucination or death, was the way his arm firmly grasped your waist and pulled your chest into him. You stared into each other’s eyes and swayed to the invisible music that flowed in your heads. 

He looked regretful, “I’m so sorry. How can I make it up to you?” 

You smiled softly,” We have only forever to make up for this time lost.”

 He looked thankful as you leaned your head into his chest. You felt his cool lips lightly brush your forehead, as you continued to sway. The morning sun was now beating into the windows, and on to both of your skin. The room filled with rainbow specs, as he twirled you once, only to pull you back in. You stilled with both hands now on his chest. He covered your hands with his own and squeezed. 

A dazzling smile was flashed at you as he quoted from the same Shakespearean play you had only hours earlier, “And, I pray thee now, tell me, for which of my bad parts did thou first fall in love with me?” 

-Admin Magda 

(I honestly love Felix, and would die for this tall boi! As always thank you for reading, and request are open! Comments and feedback are always welcome!) 

[buckyodinson]

Reader dies in front of Din

Hoo boy, someone ordered some angst, so here we are! Hope this doesn’t hurt too much! 💛

Loss

You’d been briefly stopped off on some backwater planet after one of the Crest’s engines failed. While it was being fixed, you, Din and the Child were laying low in a small cantina in a nearby town. You were briefly opening the Child’s crib to give him pieces of food before closing it again, hoping not to draw too much attention to him. Din kept watch of the cantina, looking out for anyone who would try their luck at taking the Child. At one point, when you opened the crib to give the child a small piece of food, you poked your tongue out and made a face at him and he babbled in response before you shut the crib again, smiling to yourself. Din felt his heart beat like a jackhammer inside his chest at the sight, loving how sweet you were with the Child.

Though in this case, your little distraction would prove to have fatal consequences. While Din spent those few seconds watching how you interacted with the Child, a Rodian with a tracking fob entered the cantina, and managed to slip unnoticed by Din. This bounty hunter stayed hidden along the far wall of the cantina, and turned his tracking fob off once he caught sight of the crib in front of you, knowing his prize was there. The gleaming wall of Beskar sat a few feet away was the definite giveaway he was in the right place, and the visor of the Mandalorian’s helmet had yet to settle on the Rodian, so he was able to sneak closer to the table without rousing suspicion.

It was too late by the time Din noticed. A single blaster shot came from across the cantina and hit you square in your shoulder. You were lucky you’d just leaned over to grab more food off of your plate, or it would’ve hit the centre of your chest. For that, you guess you have to be thankful, but you had no time. Din was quick to grab his blaster and shoot the Rodian dead before helping you up and rushing out of the cantina, heading towards the Crest, and praying to the Maker the repairs were completed.

He walked just ahead of you, but keeping you in his peripheral as you walked quickly back to the Crest. He could tell you were in pain, and he could see the blood trickling down your arm and staining your tunic, and he started to walk faster, concerned by your silence as you walked. Din had hooked you up with your own vambrace, similar to his own one, so you could also control some of the ship’s controls, but more importantly - the Child’s crib, if he was ever away from you and the Child collecting a bounty. The crib was currently linked to your vambrace, and following closely next to you while Din paid more attention to your surroundings. He had a bad feeling about the walk back through the town centre after what just happened, and he kept his rifle in his hands as he walked, and you kept your own good hand ready by your holster.

You’re nearing the edge of town, and the Crest is in sight when you hear the familiar beeping of a tracking fob ring through your ears. Several tracking fobs, actually. In your peripheral, you start to see figures emerging from doorways and following you. You reach the town gate and there are various men stood there, hands on weapons, and you and Din come to a halt. Your lift your bad arm up, and rest it atop the crib, wincing at the effort. Din doesn’t miss this action, and behind the unforgiving glare of the helmet, he’s desperately trying to work out an escape strategy where neither you or the Child get hurt.

“Mandalorian!” A booming voice emanates from the heavily armoured man in front of you, “Give us the bounty, and you may pass to your ship, with no harm befalling you or your partner.”

You’re breathing heavily, panic setting in your chest, but Din’s modulated voice soothes you slightly, “I can’t do that.”

“That’s a shame...” the same man speaks again and gives an imperceptible nod to one of his accomplices, and before you know it, you’ve taken a blaster shot to your right knee. You scream and drop to the ground, and Din aims his rifle at the leader, pulling his blaster out and pointing it at the man who just shot you.

“How about now, Mandalorian?” He speaks with threat lacing his tone, smirking.

“Tell your men to stand down, this isn’t a fair fight.” Din countered, putting away his blaster as a sign of goodwill, slowly moving towards you but keeping a tight grip on his rifle.

A blaster shot hit the ground between you and Din and he held a hand up, indicating he wouldn’t move any closer to you. He moved back to his original spot at the gesture of the man in front of you, whose blaster was now smoking.

“I thought you did well with odds such as these, Mando.” The man scoffed, and several of his buddies laughed in response. Din only glanced between them and you, watching you rip some material from your tunic and wrapping it tightly around your knee, grimacing as you did so.

As you did so, a bounty hunter approached the crib, and you pulled your blaster on him. He immediately responded by pulling his own blaster, and you stared down the barrel with intent, “Go ahead. You’ll be dead within seconds.” He looked up and saw Mando now had the rifle pointed in his direction, and he lowered his aim, preferring not to be disintegrated.

You slowly make it to your feet (with some trouble), which makes the majority of the bounty hunters shift their aim from Din to you. He takes this opportunity to set off his whistling birds, which take out a large amount of the men surrounding you, and you manage to kill a few more as you limp towards the Crest, Din following behind you.

You start to breathe a sigh of relief as the Crest gets closer, before you see an explosive drop to the floor right before your feet. You know you don’t have enough time to get yourself away from it, so in the few seconds you have, you cover the crib with your body, hoping to brace it from most of the impact.

Din has just killed the last bounty hunter, turning to walk to the ship with you when the explosion goes off and you’re thrown Maker-knows how far in the air with the crib. He screams your name and runs after you.

The crib remains undamaged, and the Child pokes his head out, seemingly okay. Din thanks the Maker for that, but immediately panics once he reaches you, and you’re hardly moving. He falls to his knees, and pulls you into his lap, looking at the puddle of blood that lays on the ground underneath you. Your clothing is littered with rips and tears, and the sight of your blood staining your clothes makes Din’s voice shake.

“Can you hear me, cyar’ika?” His panicked voice is barely audible through his panic.

A gloved hand comes to rest on your cheek as you look up at him. He can see the pain behind your eyes, but you smile up at him nevertheless , and reach a shaky arm up to rest on the side of his helmet, the rough edge to your voice pulls tears from his eyes in a steady stream down his cheeks, “Get the... child safe, Din. D-d-on’t worry a-about me. I’ll always be... here...” your hand drops to his cuirass and you pat it lovingly above where his heart is.

“I can’t leave you, mesh’la. There’s so much I need to tell you. So much. I-I...” a sob escapes his lips and he can’t finish the sentiment as your arm falls back limply to your lap and tears escapes your own eyes.

“I know, Din. M-me too.” You know what he’s going to say, and you know he needs to hear it from you too, so you spend your dying breath letting him know.

“I love you.” He speaks it into the air but it’s too late. Your chest no longer rises and falls. No more tears escape your eyes. But there is peace in your features, and he hopes that in death, you truly did know how much he loved you.

He sits for a while, just crying with your limp body pulled against his chest, before he slowly removes his helmet and places a tentative kiss on your lips, feeling his tears drop onto your skin. He knows there’s nobody around to see his face, but honestly, he wouldn’t care at this point. He’s already lost you, what’s losing his Creed when he’s lost his lifeline.

He allows himself to sit there for a little while longer, wondering how you would have reacted to his face. How you would’ve kissed him back and told him you loved him too. But it was too late for that. He wiped his cheeks and put his helmet back on, before carrying your body back to the ship, refusing to bury you on this skughole planet. The crib follows closely behind, with the Child looking confusingly up at your limp body laying in Din’s arms.

He lays you in your cot and climbs to the cockpit, feeling the weight of the day finally hit him as he slumps in the pilot’s seat. Once the ship is in the air, and he removes his helmet again, he finally allows himself to break down, sobs wracking his body as he replays the moment over and over again, forcing himself to relive the pain.

He doesn’t really know where he’s going until he lands the Crest and walks out to see a pile of rocks with a pair of goggles placed atop them. He sets to work and buries you next to Kuill, and he sits there until it gets dark, talking to the both of you as if you were there. Before he climbs the ramp to the Crest, he places your trademark vambrace on top of your grave, smiling sadly down at it before he turns away.

[sjw-publishings]

Man-aging your time

Foreign Relations

(Asian twist on @dumb-and-jocked story, Corporate Progression)

Edgar Han was never fond of conferences, specially ones he was forced to attend due to pressure from his company. As a college intern, he gave it his all to ensure a good grade and possibly a head-start in his business.

He was wrong.

Working at Wong.Inc, the 21 year old was constantly asked and tasked with menial errands all day, filing papers and serving coffee. Now he was asked to be an usher for a conference meeting with TenHaken Corporation.

Dressed in a black polo and khaki pants, he tapped his dress shoes impatiently, being forced to come far too early and way before any of the other interns showed up. He was pretty lean, sort of lanky as he did not do sports. Long hair was tied to a ponytail, as he kept it maintained and groomed so as to not leave a bad impression.

He wondered if it was because they were aware that he and his boyfriend, two of their interns, were gay. But he seemed to be getting the shorter end of the stick...maybe cause he actually cared about his grades and future career, they ended up treating him harsher?

Nevertheless, he did have a slimmer of hope, maybe if he left a good impression today, he could maybe...

“Aren’t you going to shake hands with me?”

Standing before him was a tall, handsome daddy who was bulked up with muscle, thick biceps straining against his suit, and the most devious looking grin that screamed corporate evil...but....it was so hot.

“S...Sorry Mr TenHaken Sir!”

He extended out his hand, as the Boss of the other company grabbed it and gave it a good shook. Snapping his mind away from his worries...and distracting it with...his strong scent infused with cologne.

And those hands, those warm..., and manly hands.

“So you are one of the few interns that...?”

“Yes...alongside my boyfriend...”

He responded in a daze, entranced by the scent. Yes he may go through several hoops just to impress the higher ups, even at the expense of his relationship with his boyfriend, but he would never reveal their relationship in a workplace setting...especially considering some of the higher ups may be homophobic.

A brief wave of disgust shown in the Boss’s countenance, before he returned to grinning madly as he let go of the shake. Giving a firm pat on the young asian man’s back, he spoke in his richly, deep voice.

“Splendid, you’d be perfect...”

The man sauntered into the conference room, bringing along most of his musky aroma and thick cologne with him...but of course, leaving some behind. The young intern blinked, realising what a poor attempt of a greeting that was, and to the BOSS of the other company too!

What is he going to do?

“Did ya watch the game last night?”

Snapping out of his thoughts, a suburban looking man in a suit asked him the question, sticking out his hand with a dopey looking grin. Almost sporting a similar thickness of the cologne the Boss wore...but more mild...and friendly.

“Uh...maybe I did?”

He grabbed ahold of the other mans hand, giving a firm shake as rehearsed. He may just be an intern, and maybe he fumbled with the greeting with the Boss, but he was going to give it his all with the next few introductions.

The shake, while it was a matter of seconds, seemed to last longer in his mind, as he felt the warm spreading from the thickness of those fatherly palms, and rough wrinkles that had definitely were from the years of prime in his youth.

“What maybe I did? Of course I did!”

Of course I did? He thought, scratching his head with his other hand, which felt oddly warm as well. Mirroring the other, as those palms expanded with a former grip, sun-kissed tan bathing their digits as it spread all over their palms. Crunching the older man’s hands, as the university intern smirked.

“Of course I did!”

“Atta Boy!”

The older father figure looped his arms around him, as he...slightly reluctantly, did the same. The tan had spread down his wrists, past the forearms and to those biceps. Giving a firm masculine boost as testosterone swelled his arms, thickening like he definitely lifted a lot.

He wasn’t into sports much, but he did lift a little...especially after some pestering with Mr Craig, the really nice man from the other company. Tasked to do some stock checking and other stuff before the event, they chatted quite a bit and surprisingly had clique very well.

“So what are ya doing out here shaking hands?”

“Oh I...uh was asked to shake hands?”

“What are ya talking about? That stuff was for the interns!”

Bedgaric blinked, interns? But wasn’t he...no. He moved past that stage a couple of years ago, and thinking back, the company never asked him to go stand at the door and shake hands when he was interning in Wong.Inc.

But he felt like...he needed to do this. Setting a good example for the future interns, and hoping they don’t slack off like his lazy young boyfriend. Straightening his back, not noticing he was now about the same height as Craig.

“Its merely in my good nature...gotta reflect well on the company!”

“And that’s right why we bonded right away!”

The man beamed, feeling at ease with his colleague as they were often paired together to strengthen relationships between both companies. Despite the obvious age and ranking differences, it was clear to the company that he was fit for the job.

As his mentor-figure rubbed against his sore shoulders, his shoulder blades clacked, as it was evident that the dark tan worked its magic there. Working out and making up for those wasted years, the 28 year old definitely made gains as his back rippled against the Polo tee he wore. Strapping muscles that he could recall several men, and girls ogling after him on a daily basis. Though he was into boyfriend Conan, many others were also into him too.

“Anyways...remember that bit? TOUCHDOWN!”

“Ah yeah! Man was that CLOSE!”

Resting his strong muscular arm easily on the other man, he was really into football, though he never made the team when he was younger. Too much of a pansy back then, but Craig really manned him up like the big brother figure he is.

Often watching football during the breaks, and a couple of roughhousing with Craig and a couple of his older friends. They had a blast!

Bendgardict, being the tall and bulky asian man he is, was assigned to be on defence. Recalling the impact the football nearly hitting his core, but his strong goalkeeper-esque hands catching it...definitely something he picked up during his soccer days.

Indeed, he had played soccer a ton, he was a jock after all. Legs thickening to hard trunks, as the hot tan spread with light dusting of hair at every spot. Feet surely sprung forth, as the heavy clunking of those dark polished dress shoes now spotted his attire.

Giving a huge SWING to Craig, broad shoulders rippling beneath his attire, he crossed his arms and smirked. Clutching every football toss to his core, abdominals crunching numbers as pectorals bounced back with even more force, a defender to the core, that’s the man he was.

Standing firm and tall, his polo shirt could barely contain the rippling maturity as the sound of satisfying rips echoed his larger bod. Material shifting to a more presentable cotton, bleached white as sleeves rolled themselves neatly down his arms. Spotting on a white dress shirt with the first few buttons unbuttoned, accenting his frame like the Chad he is.

He had some hesitations displaying himself, but he shook it off, knowing if God gave him a body like this, he should use it to the fullest. God? Must be Craig’s Church influencing him quite a lot, he believed, still new to it though.

“From production manager to executive director...Eugene definitely went bonkers last night...”

“Hah! Serves him right to go against our team!”

The two of them continued chatting about work experiences, the game, and altogether men stuff. Time flew by effortlessly, alongside maturity. The Associate ranking up as they laughed heartily.

It wasn’t long until the asian man surpassed his peer in height, stopping at 6ft 2. He laughed heartily like a big brother, even though he was clearly younger...not by much, 5 years or so.

But he certainly ranked up a lot, after all, he did share similar beliefs to his higher ups and colleagues...those ‘hip’ millennials call them boomers, but their values really resonated within him. Something his...intern would not understand, with all his constant flirting in the office.

Presentability. An upper coating of expensive fabric layered over his dress shirt, as well as replacing that of his pants. Beige with faint magenta straight lines, ironing the wrinkles over his suit pants and jacket combo with a matching pocket square.

He had earned quite a handful sum after all, spending it wisely in investing in stocks and proper attire. Not like those games that millennials waste their money on.

Masculinity. This was done without question, which represented his sunbaked complexion from working out and bonding with other men in the field.

It was also without question that the ridiculous ponytail began slowly retracting upwards, with sides shaved like a real man always would, especially in sports. Combing sideways with neat dabbing of gel, as the hard crusty dusting of aftershave went all over his upper lip and strong jaw.

He was nice, but pretty jock-centred in his beliefs. Both in his faith and how a man oughta behave. Big strong and masculine, the provider of the household, man and woman.

Man and woman...?

“Will see ya and the family on church this Sunday!”

“See ya!”

His mouth instinctively responded on autopilot, as his goofy grin waved goodbye to his long time friend, colleague, and church mate. His eyes blinked momentarily in light shock, making way to the bathrooms, and quickly closing behind one of the stalls.

LOCK!

“What...what in tarnation is happening to me? Haha?”

The stresses melted away into a grin, he always had a good natured stress-free persona, even when that gay intern confessed to him when he wasn’t into such things...wait no....

He felt compelled to...what? He barely knew the intern, plus he was more into ladies...in fact, he was sure his buddy Craig mentioned something about a family right? The air conditioning neutralising his heat emitting, he quickly fished for his-

“So warm...so fatherly...”

The middle aged man tugged his breeding tool beneath his pants, letting out soft groans like he was young. Ah the younger days, so simple, when men just liked women...when men just liked women!

Blushing to himself, as he tugged ferociously, letting out loud gasps as he felt his behind tightening with a SPANK. Disciplining away any penetration like his father would if he did not excel in his studies, swelling up to a sweet bubble butt reserved for...his love one.

He was raised in a traditional household after all, strong honour and an expertise in Mandarin Chinese. Which was why he landed his position in the first place.

But of course, he thanked God for everything after coming to know him in his college days. Strictness mixed with Kindness, Honour mixed with a loving father, Mr Benedgadict Kan understood who he was, as the firm but gentle brushes against his package were too much to bear.

“Forgive me...C...C....Cindy!”

He was a faithful man wasn’t he? It feels strange to even think about such ‘millennial’ thoughts! Haha, never understood them. Thankfully his wife Cindy and him raised their children well in the lord! Speaking of her...oh man!

“Cindy...you’re so beautiful!”

Gone were the dates of a gay man, replacing by a marriage lasting over two decades. Time well spent with her, His heart pumped in love with HER! Manhood rose in length and girth at the thought of her luscious hair, and soft lips that just made the man outta him.

Man and woman

THRUST!

She is your wife, and you are her husband.

THRUST!

You are a father.

“Ooooaaaah!”

The forty eight year old asian man gave a huge holler as he let out the remains of his homosexuality in an innocent bliss, slumping back as his eyelids closed without hesitation.

Stains looped around his left ring finger as a good man stays devoted to his wife. His member remained sturdy, hard and manly, but at rest. A golden necklace materialised, symbolising the gift she got him on their anniversary.

His married hand gave a good firm pat on his pouch, instinctively putting back his tool into hiding and zipping his pants up.

Almost as if Benedict Kang never tugged his manhood by himself, only engaging in it when multiplying with his wife. He was a good faithful man after all, his new genetics beamed to reflect that as he slowly opened his beady eyes.

“Oh lordee...Where am I?”

Managing Director Kang was your all around nice boss...dad guy. Ruffling his gelled hair, he laughed as he remembered praying and thanking the lord for his successes in his company and in his life.

Prayer time was always priority. He got results done, and had more than enough time to spend time with his family as well as watch the game. It had cut close sometimes, nearly missing a business proposal due to his son’s football game in school, but he always made it in the Bened-Nick of time.

Speaking of which...

“Oh shucks! What time is it?”

He quickly fished himself up from his mediation pronto, unlocking the door and strolling down towards the door entrance of the conference meeting, he quickly glanced at his ‘IanAs’ watch.

“Just in time! The Conference meeting was about to start!”

Mr Benedict Kang flashed his most genuine grin, stress melting away from the atmosphere as his wholesome presence was made known as he jovially walked in.

“Amen to that!”

[kileyrose-2003]

Rebecca character headcanons: How they react to seeing without a towel infront of them by accident after a shower

A/N: Hello lovelies! This is for my dear friend @merci-bitch I'm still working on all of your request. Most of them are being started from square one. So bare with me as I make it through them. Coming back fully is a work in progress for me. I'm going through a bit of a rough patch right now. It's all going to be okay in the end though. Just got to take everything one step at a time. I love you all and I hope you all have a wonderful day.

Warning: Implied/slight sexual content, slightly NSFW

Rose

This a common occurence with Rose

She hates shoes and I do headcanon she also dislikes clothes

She's very airy and bohemian in her style

Wears a lot of silk and cotton

She doesn't like feeling weighed down by fabric and material

It's very rare she actually wears a pair of form fitting pants when she's home

And even then, they're very stretchy

There are a couple of scene in Doctor Sleep where Stephen King explicitly writes she has no top on

Or no clothes in general

Especially around Crow.

She's a beautiful woman and she knows it

She even walks around The Bluebell Campground when she gets out the shower with only a bath sheet on

There is nothing sacred in The True Knot

They've heard and seen it all by now

So a person covered by only a bath sheet, doesn't bother them

You personally would never do it intentionally

And if you do accidentally expose yourself or run around improperly dressed, it's an accident or in the most dire of situations

At this point you're still freshly turned and holding onto rube morals still

Well

At least as much as you can being in The True Knot

On this particular occasion where you dropped the towel, it was Rose's turn to go grocery shopping

She gave you the option to come but you chose to stay behind

You slept in til about noon and you were in desperate need of a shower

And a cup of tea

She made you scream the night before

So after a little relaxation you took your shower

You're the fun one in the relationship

So if you like to sing, you sing in there. If you like to dance, you danced.

Point being you lost track of time

The cold water beading down on your skin was a harsh reminder of that

You stepped out, dried yourself

Dropped the bath towel

Went to pick out some clothes

The curtains were shut so it wasn't like anyone could see inside the trailer

Or at least you thought so

Until you heard the clicking of the door knob

You froze, panic running through your body

There was Rose, paperbags filled with groceries in her arms

At first the two of you stood there looking at each other with blank faces

Somewhere in the midst of your shock, you can hear Crow standing outside the trailer politely leaving the other bags on the steps

And you become even more mortified

But eventually Rose began to smile

"Well, that's a greeting in half isn't it."

You're immediately embarrassed by the remark which makes Rose grin even more

"No, no, no. No shame. It's not like it's the first time I've seen you in this setting, right?"

You stumble on your words even more

And you can tell Rose is genuinely enjoying it

You don't know what to do

What to say

Part of you is humiliated

But before you can conjure any words, her lips crash down upon yours, fingers running through your hair.

She is loving every single moment of this.

Especially your flustered expression afterwards

Needless to say you're not going to be needing clothes for quite a while now

Riza

Like Rose this is probably a more common occurence on Riza's part

Except with Riza, its not a matter of she hates clothes

She just likes to tease

In this scenario, Riza was out on business

She had to negotiate a new contract with an arms dealer and she wasn't supposed to be back for a few days so you had the house to yourself

As I mentioned before Riza hates anything deemed "domestic"

So you took it upon yourself to tidy up while she was gone

After a day of cleaning, you desperately needed the shower

You took longer than you normally would of, humming to yourself as you washed up

You didn't hear the clicking of the bedroom door opening mid way through

You dried off and stepped out of the shower, still singing to yourself. Not bothering to cover up with the towel.

And as you step out of the bathroom there is Riza

Comfortably lounged out on your bed, clad in a bathrobe with her martini glass in hand

She has been waiting to see the day that she could pull this off and now she can

"Hello, darling."

Her tone is sweet but clearly hints at a seductive nature

You nearly fall onto the floor, next expecting her to be there.

She laughs at you clearly entertained by not only the expression on your face but also your attire

"You're too cute, Y/n."

As she begins to approach you, she stands as tall as she can. Trying to intimidate you with her height.

"You really are such a precious thing, aren't you? So petite and most importantly, all mine."

She presses gentle kisses up and down your neck that leave you in shock

Riza knows she's seducing you every step of the way and she is loving it

She leads your hands down to the tie on her silk robe and squeezes your hand in hers

"Do you want to see what things you do to me?"

I think everyone can fill in the rest of the picture here

Kathleen

Even though Kathleen is a bit of a flirt and sometimes a tease, there are clear boundaries between the two of you

In every relationship there is a need for privacy and respect

If you have neither of those, the relationship won't work

So between the two of you, you respect the other one's need for privacy

Kathleen would never do anything to make you uncomfortable intentionally, and you are the same way towards her

Even though you share a room, you have a knock before you enter policy

Sure you've seen each other naked before, but it's what makes the two of you most comfortable

So her seeing you naked in this situation, was honestly a complete accident

You and Kathleen work different shifts

She teaches theatre during the day and you teach music at nights

You normally do your hair, makeup, etc. while Kathleen is out the house that way you can see her for a few minutes before heading your own way

You showered about an hour after she left

After you dried off, you had no hesitation to just rip the towel off

After all, it shouldn't be a big deal

You have curtains in your apartment , the front door is locked, etc.

You walk into your bedroom softly humming to yourself and much to your surprise there's Kathleen

Rummaging through your shared bedroom trying to find her wallet

The two of you immediately let out a yell and yiy try to make an attempt to cover yourself with anything in sight

"What the hell are you doing?"

"What the hell am I doing?! I thought you were at work."

"I was at work but I had Augustus cover for me so I can run home. I can't find my damn wallet!"

You both were so embarrassed and your faces were evidence of that

It's something you both laugh about now but at the moment, it was not so funny.

After throwing on a bath robe and twenty minutes of searching, you eventually found the wallet and Kathleen was ready to go

She wrapped her arms around you at the front door

"Well that was quite the experience. Wouldn't you say so, darling?"

The smirk on her face is evidence she's well over the incident

But you can't help but tease

"Don't act like you didn't like it." You loop your arms around her neck. "I seen the way that you looked at me without that towel on before we had a moment to process."

The way she purses her lips makes your heart pound from the residual anxiety

But she eventually kisses you on the lips

The kiss last a while and leaves you out of breath

But it's a nice farewell that leaves a smile on your face

She might show you how much she loves you later on a day off after a drink or two

It's the little moments like this that make your relationship special

Jenny

Like I've mentioned before, Jenny is very clingy to who she deems as "hers"

So when it comes to your relationship, she has no sense of privacy or space at times

You could be in the middle of taking a shower and all the sudden

"You know, this is my favorite outfit."

And there's Jenny with her head either peaking in the shower or standing in the shower with you

It's a bit annoying and it's caused a few arguments between the two of you but you won't let it ruin your relationship

So this her seeing you naked thing, is somewhat common

On the occasion you accidentally dropped the towel, you thought she was downstairs rehearsing for her next show

She had a tour planned for the following week around Europe so you figured mine as well you do something nice to her before she goes on the road

You purposely picked out nice clothes

Spread them out all nice on the bed

You stepped out of the shower

Dried yourself off

Dropped the towel and as you're midway through walking to the bedroom

"Darling, I'm-"

You freeze up

And Jenny just stared at you

You can see her cheeks turn red and muttered a small "I'm sorry."

But she isn't

And her face shows it

Her lips are hinting at a slight smile

Smugness gleaming in those piercing eyes

"Could you stop staring at me like that?"

"Like what?"

And she knows damn well how she's staring at you

Her eyes wandering all over the place

"Like you're hypnotized."

"Well if I'm hypnotized by you tell me, how do I fix it?"

I think we all know how this ends

Rebecca

Rebecca is a very non judgmental person and has a good sense of humor

She's not the type that would make a huge deal about accidentally seeing you naked after a shower

Especially if it was within a time frame you didn't expect her to be home

Because she does travel alot for work

She'd be a little embarrassed at first

"Oh sweetie, I'm so sorry!"

Her cheeks would be cherry red and immediately reaching out to hand you your towel

And she'd step out to give you a moment to get dressed

Trying to make small talk to get both your minds off the incident

But afterwards it doesn't cross either of your minds

She's back to her normal self, hanging all over you every second she can and snogging

Dinah

If I already didn't want to hug Dinah, her reaction to this makes me want to hug her even more

Dinah is big on privacy

Even in your relationship, she likes to keep some things to herself

She will cuddle with you

She will kiss you

She will hug you

But she will not get undressed infront of you

And she absolutely would not want to see you naked

Under any circumstance

Her seeing you nude is something she is just not ready for

It's nothing against you

But she still needs time to heal and she doesn't know if she's ready for that next level in your relationship

And you respect that completely

The day she seen you naked was a complete accident

Dinah was busy doing errands and such while you were soaking in the bath after a long day of cleaning, so you figured she wouldn't be home anytime soon

Your body was fiercely sore. It hurt to even wrap a towel around it.

So what was the harm in not putting on a towel

As you were half way to your room, you heard the door the padding of feet softly across the floor and you froze

"Y/n, I'm back. My apologies, I-"

Yours and Dinah's eyes interlock and she nearly lets out a scream

She was petrified and looked near the verge of tears

Whether it was out of shock or embarrassment you can't tell

But it hurt so much inside to see her like that

You open your mouth to say something but before you even have the chance to say anything she's running outside

You debate on going after her right away but what good would it do?

She was already scared as it is and it's not like you can take the chances of walking outside nude

So you throw on a dress and shawl as quickly as you could and go to find her

When you do, she has her face buried in her hands but she's not crying which brings some relief

It was an accident obviously so she immediately forgives you but it's an incident that still sticks in your head for the next couple of days

Ilsa

Ilsa is similar to Rebecca in this situation except the shock factor hits her harder

She was off on a mission for the past couple of weeks and you were missing her terribly

Ilsa was supposed to be home earlier during the day but something came up

So you figured you'd take the time to make her a nice dinner and make yourself up

You didn't even hear her walk through the front door when she got home

You had the stereo on as you were making dinner and never bothered to shut it off

You dried off quickly in the bathroom and left the towel on the counter as you stepped out

You walked into your room expecting to be alone but there was Ilsa, clad in her favorite sweats and t shirt

Her eyes lock with yours and for a second it's intense, almost as if she's mad at you

If you weren't so locked up, you would of been running to find the nearest item of clothing and Ilsa must of seen it

Her expression quickly faded into an almost hinted smile and she blushed

"Hell-I am so sorry."

"No, no. It's fine. I made dinner if you want it. Do you mind to-"

"No, not at all."

You notice her eyes lingering as she leaves you alone to get dressed and you can't help but feel slightly humiliated

But by the time you're out of the room and dressed, she's over it and is all over you

Kissing your face all over and holding you close

The time you get alone is rare, but you both cherish it

[glacecakes]

Alchemy Lullaby (12/?)

Of all the changes that came with living in the castle, becoming a father was not one he anticipated. When Eugene encounters a small child suffering like he did, he gives them the opportunity to grow up the way he never did… helping them both heal. (AU where Varian is 4 and gets adopted by Eugene)

Rapunzel, Eugene, Cassandra, and Quirin travel to Old Corona. There, they learn about the past, in more than one way. In which Quest for Varian is actually a quest about Varian.

Read the rest on AO3

hi! Uh. I took the week off cuz my cat died but now we're back on track. Quest for Varian rewrite time! This thing was a monster to hammer out, I kept rewriting scenes and dialogue and blah blah blah but IM HAPPY WITH IT!! A MAJOR thanks to @space-butterflies and @finnoky for helping me with this!

PLEASE if you enjoy this fic leave a comment and like!! It gives me the strength to keep going. And to not focus on my schoolwork haha im a grade below average rip

Maximus’ footsteps trotted one after another, a steady beat in time with Rapunzel’s anxious heart. Cassandra sat by her side, unflinching as ever, but the storm in her eyes said more than enough. So did the bouncing of Eugene’s leg. It was clear as day: they were all terrified. 

“Old Corona is just over this hill,” Quirin muttered, slightly uncomfortable. 

He’d hoped that his words would soothe his companions but it only seemed to irk them more. Rapunzel let out a sharp inhale, biting her lip. A war raged within her mind. She didn’t want Quirin to know the truth; a part of her wanted nothing more than to protect the small child she’d come to see as her own. But it wasn’t fair. He’d been so confused when the princess showed up with grim company. 

She locked eyes with Eugene. He nodded, resolute yet anxious.

Gripping her dress, Rapunzel spoke up. “Quirin, I really appreciate you letting us come with… you should know that, the rocks, they’ve been… reacting. To me. And to a few other people.”

Quirin kept his face impassive but inwardly, he was letting out a massive sigh of relief. So it wasn’t just Varian, no, it was a few people! Thank goodness! He’d been hesitant to bring it up, to confirm that Varian had power over the rocks, but her words made it seem more like the rocks respond to strong emotions in general. And Varian was an emotional child, swinging from sweet to sour to sad. Of course the rocks would react to a child’s emotions, then. Thank goodness!

Never mind the fact that they never worked like that before.His previous theory was definitely wrong, there was no way Varian could have the moonstone! Even if he looked a lot like Ulla, with his big blue eyes and button nose, and he had her curiosity and penchant for mischief… 

The princess’s eyes wandered, trying to find words. “I thought you should know that… stop the cart!” She cried. Max jolted to a stop, nearly sending Cassandra crashing into Eugene. Clear as day, across the path, a single spike protruded from the earth. The party stepped out of the wagon to approach. 

“My dad told me all of the black rocks had been removed…” Rapunzel frowned. She went to brush a hand against it, but decided at the last second not to. There was no use in causing an explosion. All eyes turned to the knight, the apparent expert on the rocks. 

Quirin fidgeted uncomfortably. “We may have… missed one?” Truth be told, this rock wasn’t there last time he visited. And that was last week! How had the situation changed so much in such a short time? 

“Um…” Cassandra said, pointing to the village ahead. “Try one hundred.” 

Old Corona was covered in rocks from head to toe. Nearly everywhere you looked, a rock took up some of your vision. Each house had at least one spike cutting clean through it, and the whole village seemed duller, sucked of life. Bleak as winter, a shadow loomed over everything and blanketed it in eternal night.

“Do you think your father lied?” Cassandra asked. Quirin sucked in a harsh breath.

“No!” Rapunzel stressed. Her voice wavered, clearly unsure. “I trust my father, but he probably doesn’t know how bad it’s gotten.” She took one step forward, then another. Dead grass crunched underfoot. “Come on,” she mumbled.

With each new rock Eugene’s anxiety only grew. All angles were dangerous, each reflected beam of sunlight was dimmed by the obsidian rocks it bounced off of. He could feel his sanity slip like sand, each rock corresponding to a grain in an hourglass. On instinct, he reached out. Rapunzel was his rock, and she was his. They’d get through this together, figure it out side by side. But just in case, he caged her braid inbetween them. Hopefully that would prevent any disasters. 

“It’s the same story,” Quirin said sadly, brushing a hand across the rocks. His tattoo burned so hot he feared his glove would melt. “At first it’s just a few rocks… they’re a nuisance, but manageable. But then they keep growing, and growing, until the town is a maze,” he sighed. 

“And then the King comes and cleans it all up, right…?” Cassandra dared to ask, speaking aloud what Rapunzel feared. 

“...They’ve never been in Corona until now,” he managed. It would be his greatest challenge, sitting in the middle of two royals fighting. One, a King determined to keep his people from panic. Another, a princess who wanted answers. 

He wasn’t sure if either person would be satisfied by today’s end.

“They didn’t show up in Corona until… I did.” Rapunzel muttered. “There’s no question now, these rocks… they hold a secret, and, and somehow- we’re connected to it...” Her eyes shook as she was lost in memory. The use of we was noticed by everyone; each member of the party glanced around to see if they’d made the connection, but no one spoke. 

“And maybe we’re… even responsible for it.” 

Eugene’s normally smiling and charming face filled with solemn grit. His voice deepened as he spoke. “What do we do now?”

“If I may,” Quirin cleared his throat and stepped forward. “I have an… old friend who researched the rocks a while ago. I entrusted her with a graphtyc that may have some answers.”

Princess and boyfriend locked eyes. That could only be one person...

“I’m sorry Eugene, I know you don’t want to be here. But we need to find that graphtyc, so that’s what we’re gonna do.” Rapunzel said.

At first the ex-thief was silent, and his face impassive. But slowly, it broke into the faintest of smiles as he grasped her hand. Their foreheads touched together briefly, and Rapunzel melted into his warmth. Their fight from the other night was still fresh in her mind, seeing as it was the only real fight they’ve ever had. Neither of them had been particularly wrong, but they both knew it was time to put personal discomfort aside. 

For Varian.

For their son. 

Quirin and Cassandra stood to the side. When a figure rushed by, they both turned, catching nothing but the wind left in its wake. 

-

The walk to the house was quiet and tense. Each wrong step caused Rapunzel’s hair to light up like a beacon, and everyone would flinch in preparation of an explosion. Thankfully, nothing happened, and they eventually reached the manor. Out of all the houses, this one was in the worst shape. Every window had a cluster of spikes protruding from indoors. A piece of roof cracked and fell to their feet. One thing was clear: the house was on its last legs, wheezing for breath. 

Eugene’s feet felt stuck to the ground, unable to take another step further. Behind this door was, supposedly, Varian’s mother. She and Gothel tied for his least favorite people in the world, but he couldn’t help but also feel grateful. Oh how he wished Varian had a loving mother, but because he didn’t, it allowed them to meet, it allowed for Eugene to grow and love. 

Quirin knocked steadily. He took one deep breath, then another.  

The door crept open. Its hinges screamed and rang through the air. 

And there she was.

The best and worst thing of their lives.

“Ulla,” Quirin breathed, eyes softening. Her hair was askew, like it had been thrown up. Wild eyes scanned him up and down, before relaxing ever so slightly. 

“Were you followed?” She hissed. That earned a nervous glance between party members. Cassandra glanced back; now that she thought about it, she hadn’t even seen any villagers…

“It’s just us,” Quirin replied. “Listen, we need the graphtyc, you said you’d translate it, remember?”

“Oh I remember,” she drawled. Unimpressed eyes scanned the group. Distantly she recognized the princess, her hair was unmistakable, but then, her eyes widened. “You-!” 

Eugene’s eyes flashed. If it wasn’t for the fact that they needed her help, he’d punch her square in the face. “Yea, not thrilled to see you either, can you help us or not?”

The mood shifted instantly from uneasy to flat out hostile. Teal eyes glared through him as she searched for a fifth person who wasn’t there. And probably would never be there again. 

How unfortunate. After he left it’d been so calm… for a while, anyway. Their time apart gave her space to think up some new theories and tests, too bad they’ll never be utilized. Finally, she stepped aside to let everyone in. 

A shadow loomed over the wood.

Ulla turned her nose up as they entered her lab. It was cluttered with notes collecting dust and farm tools. “I will help Quirin, but not the rest of you.”

“Yeah, you’ve helped us enough.” Eugene’s words were biting, barely contained fury clear as day. It was only Rapunzel’s hand on his chest that kept him from springing forward and tearing her to pieces. 

Out of them, Quirin seemed to be the only one happy to see her. “Thank you, Ulla.”

She gave him the faintest of smiles, before her face turned impassive again. “I’ll take Quirin to get the graphtyc. Don’t touch anything… please.” The last word was tacked on solely because Rapunzel was there. The two elders vanished up rickety stairs. 

“So… this is Varian’s old home?” Cassandra’s eyes flicked to and fro. Dust laid claim to every surface. “Seems… about what I expected.”

To her left, Eugene hummed in agreement as he trailed a finger across the table. His eyes trailed over a few of her notes. Most of them were mundane, farm reports or apple science. “You know someone should sit this lady down and have a frank discussion about the importance of having an organized, clutter-free workspace.” Well, a frank discussion about a lot of things. But that’s a good place to start. A nice, simple conversation not about Varian that wouldn’t end in a screaming match and/or murder. 

But murder was still on the table. 

Especially when Rapunzel, curious, foolish Rapunzel, couldn’t help herself. In the far corner, covered in dust, sat what looked like an invention covered by a tarp. Hesitantly, with bare feet tapping against stone, the dust irritating her nose and the smell of it thick in the air, she unveiled the invention. 

A chair, with shackles. 

Tiny, child-sized shackles. 

She let out an agonized cry and stumbled back into Eugene’s arms. It was like a hole had been punched in her chest. So this is what Varian meant when he said no more…

“We shouldn’t have come here. We should’ve stayed in the castle where we were a happy family.” She whispered, clutching tight to Eugene’s vest. 

“Come on, Raps, you don’t mean that,” Cassandra soothed. She sent Eugene a helpless glance. Regardless of how the chair was used, the implications were agonizing. 

As much as Eugene wanted the satisfaction that he was right, that she was agreeing with him, he knew deep down that it wasn’t true. 

“Sunshine,” he mumbled. “I know what I said before about forgetting all this, and never speaking to… her, but this,” his eyes drifted to the window, from which a massive rock extended. “Is way, way worse than I or anyone else imagined, and one thing has become clear.” He brushes a strand of hair from her face. “People are in danger. A lot of danger. Not just from the rocks. And the Rapunzel I know was never one to run and hide from a fight.”

No sooner had those words been spoken, the door burst open. 

-

“Is there a reason you wanted to speak to just me?” Quirin asked as soon as they walked up the stairs. “It’s rude to leave her highness alone.”

Ulla scoffed. “She’s not alone, she's with the thief.” Her words were sharp as the rocks she studied. 

Thief? Well sure, he used to be, but most people looked past that by now. He’d seen firsthand how Eugene went from a castle annoyance to maids crowding him with gossip and parenting advice. 

“You mean how he was Flynn Rider? I can assure you, he’s a very nice young man-”

“A nice young man who is harboring a disappointment!” 

The silence rang like a funeral bell. Quirin’s face dropped to neutral. God did Ulla hate when he did that; he was impossible to read. Finally, he spoke. “So it’s true. He’s yours, isn’t he? He’s… he’s the moonstone.” It was finality, the sealing of a child’s coffin. It also earned him a frustrated eye roll.

Ulla turned to her bookshelf. Let’s see… which book is it again…? “He’s not the moonstone, he’s the moondrop. Crucial difference.”

“That being…?”

“You can’t manipulate or control it the way you can the moonstone.” Quirin couldn’t help but flinch at her word choice. “The translated incantations will only work if he says them. Which renders him useless to me.”

More like useless to her plans, Quirin thought dryly. “So you abandoned him.” 

“He’s an experiment gone wrong. Nothing to do but scrap it and start over.” She smirked at how the man paled at those words. Finally, her fingers brushed across the book. She opened it to reveal a shining scroll case. It felt bittersweet to see so many hours of work be handed over to Quirin, but what can you do? They spent a whole year together, collecting the pieces of the scroll for translation, trying to solve the mystery and destroy the moonstone. Only fair that he gets to see their hard work completed. 

Quirin’s hand brushed against the graphtyc… but then froze. Wait. That didn’t make any sense. “Ulla... he can control the rocks…” 

“What?” It was like a bullet had gone off, Ulla’s ears were ringing that loud. That… that little brat! How long could he control his magic? Did he send these recent rocks to her… to mock her? Did he just enjoy causing her misery!? 

She schooled her face back to impassive, though the cogs in her brain were already off to the races. New theories, new experiments, if she only had a little more time with him…!

Teal eyes batted up at Quirin, who stood awkwardly under her intense gaze. 

She opened her mouth.

-

From the splintered doorway, a large man stepped forward. His face was hidden behind a masked helmet, a black cloak trailing his red coat. He held out a gloved hand. “Hand over the graphtyc.”

Eugene growled, stepping in front of Rapunzel and shielding her. “Who is that?” 

“Doesn’t matter, I got him!” Cassandra cried. She charged at the man, skidding under his legs up and around him. She grabbed his staff and pinned it against his neck. The man huffed, grunting against her weight, before throwing himself forward and sending Cassandra flying. She landed on the table with a thud, sending notes and chemicals every which way. One chemical turned to goo the moment it hit the floor, trapping papers underneath.

Aha!

Rapunzel grabbed a spare of it, and with all her might threw it at the attacker. In a flash of pink smoke the man’s legs were trapped in place. 

“Go go go!” Eugene cried, grabbing Cassandra off the floor.

“What about Quirin!?”

“No time! He’ll just have to catch up!” 

The door to the house flew open with a bang, nearly shattering as they ran past. Each rock lit up a vibrant blue the same color as Varian’s hairstripe whenever Rapunzel ran past. 

“I don’t know how long we’ll have before that guy breaks out, but-” Rapunzel’s voice was cut off, gasping as a masked man stood on the other side of the rocks. How…? 

“Clearly not long!” Eugene cries, and they turn, only to come face to face with the same mask. “How fast is this guy?” Finally, they break out of the rocks, outside the village. With huffing breaths, the party came face to face with several identically dressed men; the masks crowd them, filling their very bones with dread. “Oh, that explains it.” 

“Hand over the graphtyc,” the chant is repeated over and over, each man taking a turn to say it. Never mind the fact that they didn’t even have the damn thing because Ulla wanted to speak to Quirin about god knows what.

Not a moment later than the thought had come and gone, Quirin manifested from behind the Princess. His large, hulking form easily towered over the men, and it took only a few punches for each masked man to topple. 

A neigh bounced around the clearing, its sound ricocheting off rocks, and Max galloped in carrying a frying pan in his mouth. Combined, the two defeated the small battalion in under a minute, before the young adults even had to lift a finger. 

“Sorry,” Quirin whispered to one of the guards before knocking him to the ground. 

“Max! Quirin! Oh you couldn’t have come a second sooner!” Rapunzel gasped as she and the others ran over. It was a tight fit to get them all on Max, but he was a big horse, and Rapunzel could sit on Eugene’s lap if needed. 

“Do you have it?” The princess’s eyes lit up when Quirin produced a small trinket. “These guys want whatever that is pretty badly,” it was an odd game of telephone as Quirin handed it down Max and to Rapunzel. “And something tells me we won’t make it back to the castle.” 

Quirin opened his mouth to argue, but Eugene cut him off. “She’s right! We need somewhere to hide and come up with a plan.”

“No, I don’t think we really need to-”

“I know just the place!” Rapunzel spurred Max faster as Quirin sighed in defeat. 

-

It wasn’t a far ride, just a trip down a cliff and then some, but soon enough they were at a small alcove covered in vines. 

“Man, this is terrible.” Eugene muttered to himself.

“I know,” Cassandra sighed. “Those men are following us.”

“No, I was talking about my vest. But yeah, that’s bad too. Rapunzel, are you sure this place is safe?”

She snorted. Safe? Hidden? This place was the most hidden spot in all of Corona for 18 years. “I’m surprised you don’t recognize this place!” With a flourish, the vines peeled back, and she faltered. “Actually… I’m not sure I recognize it either.” 

Her tower. The place she once called home. Now surrounded by spikes.

Night falls, and with it comes a moment of reprieve. Eugene gladly gave Max a tour of the tower; well, as much of a tour as he could. “And this is where I died!” He said, proudly pointing to a spot of blood on the floor.

With a jolt, Rapunzel recalled an incident from the other day. Eugene had told Varian a watered down story of how they met, and where Rapunzel’s hair came from. The toddler had been so upset to hear that Rapunzel had been locked away for so long… was his anguish subconsciously causing rocks to appear in places he’d never been? 

The other three humans sat together, fidgeting with the graphtyc. “It sounds like there’s something inside…?” Rapunzel held it up to Cassandra’s ear. They both glanced over to Quirin, who opened it with a crack. Inside sat an unassuming piece of paper. Or rather, it was unassuming until he pulled it out.

The scroll was torn in half, with only two columns visible; one had a sun dripping down onto a flower, the other, a moon onto rocks. Strange characters covered the columns, with fresh pencil markings scribbling all around them. 

But before Quirin could explain, Eugene cried out from where he stood at the window. “Guys… we have a problem. Or rather, many problems. Masked problems.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding!” Rapunzel gasped. “How on earth did they find us!?” A fire lit in her eyes, the likes of which her father had tried to smother earlier in the week. “These guys just ticked off the wrong princess. I came here for answers, for a solution, and by god we are going to get it!” 

Quirin rubbed his shoulder, trying to hide his flinch at the word solution. “What will you do, your highness?” 

She didn’t respond at first. Instead, she stalked forward, letting her braid fall loose. “I’m letting down my hair.” The intensity of her voice took them all off guard; Eugene hadn’t heard her that angry in a long time, not even during their fight. 

It was the righteous anger of a protective mother. 

Her hair brushed against a spike, causing it to glow brighter and brighter, even more than the stars in the sky, then the moon, and even the sun. A shockwave sent the masked men flying away, their backs hitting cliff walls. Quirin had to grip onto the tower windowsill in order to stay upright; Cassandra and Eugene weren’t as lucky and were thrown backwards. 

Then, as fast as it started, it stopped. All was quiet, all was still.

Elsewhere, a small child fell to the ground as a blinding headache racked his skull. He shrieked, startling his babysitters.

A new rock sprouted. Then another. Black obsidian punctured the tower. Before they could even try to escape the rocks grew up through the stairwell leading outside. 

“Up there!” Cassandra cried, pointing to the skylight. “That’s the only way out!” 

With one massive throw, Rapunzel formed a rope for everyone to climb, onto the roof and into the night.

“I don’t understand… I thought you said this was dealt with?” Rapunzel bemoaned to Quirin. He winced. On the one hand, he never said anything, her father did. On the other hand…

“It wasn’t like this when I visited last. There were a few rocks, but-”

“Hang on, you lied to us? You were lying this whole time!?” Cassandra butt in, eyebrow raised. She wasn’t nearly as matronly as Rapunzel, if she had it her way Varian would’ve been shipped off to an orphanage, but she was still fond of the little tyke, and she sure as hell didn’t want him blamed for this mess. 

“Well, yes, but-”

“And what happens when the village is overrun? You never finished that story from earlier!” Eugene added. “Is this it? It chases everyone out?” 

“Can we maybe discuss this on land!?” The man cried. There were more important things, like not getting impaled as the tower roof collapsed! 

Blue glow now shone in tandem with the yellow of Rapunzel’s hair. She frowned, weighing her options. “Guys, there’s only one way down. I think I have a way out, but it’s a little crazy, so you’re just gonna have to trust me!” 

Eugene flinched, grabbing her hand anxiously. He had no idea if he could trust her, even though he loved her dearly. He needed to live, now more than ever! He needed to keep his son safe! If these men were after them just for the graphtyc, imagine if they found out about Varian! 

The tower buckled, sending them all into a heap. Never mind, not the time to debate! “Uh sure, let’s go for it. I’m up for anything at this point.”

With that, in tandem, they all lept off the tower as a glowing sphere that rivalled the sun engulfed them, a sea of gold soft as a pillow yet strong as a diamond.

The ground was soft at their feet. 

“Are we all seeing this? Is that new!?” Cassandra laughed, ecstatic that they survived. But Rapunzel paid her no heed. She could only watch as her first home crumbled and shattered before her eyes. Dust flew in every direction. A deep, wicked part of her wanted to run home and yell at Varian, blame him for her loss. But she couldn’t. He was a child, and she’d be no better than Ulla. 

Besides, he and Eugene were her home now. 

That didn’t stop her from shedding a tear, though. 

Eugene placed a hand on her shoulder. “Are you ok?” She shook her head, and wrapped him up in an embrace. “I will be.”

“Uh guys?” Cassandra said. “Look.”

From the wreckage, the masked men slowly shook themselves out. Only, they were not masked anymore. One man’s helmet laid shattered beyond use as he slowly lifted his head up. 

Cassandra’s eyes widened. “Pete?” she gasped. A quick glance around showed that all of them, slowly standing up, were members of the guard. 

“Princess, forgive us…” Pete said. “We had orders to recover the scroll before you.”

Her eyes narrowed into slits. “From who?” 

The man hesitated. Then slowly, a shaking finger pointed behind her… to Quirin. 

-

“Quirin,” Ulla said. “You know we weren’t able to recover half of the incantations. The one to control the rocks is still lost.”

“Because Adira still won’t tell me where it is, yes,” He grumbled. She had never been a fan of his methods, and now he could see why. 

“But we can still control them, stop them… as a family.” His eyes shot up to Ulla’s smile. She seemed nearly peaceful, if he didn’t know her true nature. 

“A family…?”

Her laugh was that of a funeral gong. “Be reasonable Quirin. Who do you think Varian’s father is?”