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lokisgoodgirl · 6 months

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A Cunning Plan: The Lakes [Loki x Reader]

The Lakes Masterlist / Regular Masterlist Summary: (5) Loki has been doing some heavy mulling. Something's brewing, and it isn't tea. Warnings: Minors DNI. Language. Smut references. Mild angst. Humour. Pining. Ex-Loki. Satchelnanigans. Cunning plans. (w/c 4.7k) Recommended Folklore Track: The Lakes

The night before had passed with an unnerving air of normalcy.

Loki didn’t speak much, but you could feel the unmistakable weight of him absorbing everything as it unfolded around him. He maintained a quiet distance. Marinating a monologue, perhaps.

You had a feeling it would come to harvest, eventually.

Something hung in the air among the domestic clink of cutlery and quiet apologies as the men squeezed around each other in the cottage. The rabbits were stewed, and much to Steve’s reluctant admission– were delicious. Loki had even taken a substantial loss in Monopoly that evening with uncharacteristic good grace. He and Thor hadn’t even fought over the little dog. And then, he had turned in early. What had passed between you that day – the rescue, the kiss, the supermarket…

His silence, you came to realise, was a blessing. A gift. If one which was grudgingly given. You had heard the low creak of his footsteps above in the living room as Steve diligently packed each playing card away face down.

He’s putting the condoms on Steve’s pillow, you thought with a wry smile. The captain looked up, oblivious.

“What’s got you in high-cotton?” Steve had asked curiously.

“Nothing,” you’d lied, scooting closer to the fire.

When the three of you had traipsed upstairs in single file and bid goodnight – Loki’s door had been closed. But you had heard his low, self-satisfied chuckle through the wall as the captain’s exasperated protestations travelled.

You wondered if Loki could hear your chuckle too. You hoped he could. When the four of you next met the chilled dawn air with bundled scarves and thick gloves, the sun was shining. Crisp, brilliant blue skies made the shade of Loki’s dark halo pop against the increasingly auburn skyline. When you had returned from your lesson, fingers numb and cheeks pink from the morning’s foraging, Loki ambled at the back of the group as usual.

You watched from ahead, seeing Thor and Steve huddled together whispering. They had been twitchy all morning, secretive smiles and hurried glances punctuating otherwise unremarkable commentary about mushrooms.

Loki was ten paces behind, a small basket slung over his arm. He walked slowly, picking up each specimen from his haul and inspecting it like a jewel. Checking every one twice. The Barbour jacket rustled around his thighs, waxed material creasing thickly as he drifted up the steep hill with effortless grace.

And now, the coats were hung on their usual pegs, a chirp of ‘don’t get too comfortable’ from Rogers making the hour break until the afternoon session shorten immeasurably. You closed your eyes, leaning against the kitchen door-frame while a couple of hunks of firewood fit snug under your arm. “Can I get you anything?” Loki murmured from the kitchen sink. You hadn’t noticed him standing there, hands in his pockets. The green scarf still hung around his neck, askew from where he’d yanked it.

In the following silence, his eyes ran questioningly over your features; the ghost of his question haunting the air. Only you, “No, thanks.” you offered weakly, beginning to un-loop your scarf before thinking better of it. “It’s colder in here,” he noted, followed by a sad smile. It pinched his dimples, but didn’t reach his eyes. “Lo-” you started. He turned back to the window. Sighing, you shuffled into the living room where Steve and Thor stood shoulder to shoulder by the fireplace. The scratch of a pen on paper was crisp over their hushed voices. Something told you it wasn’t sharing notes for the orienteering course this afternoon. The captain gave a cautious glance over his shoulder, jumping and nudging his accomplice in the ribs.

Thor coughed, hand flying to his mouth. He turned just as the final scrunched rag of paper sucked between his lips.

He chewed, smiling. “Hurr-oh Agen’” he mouthed, oblivious to Steve’s adjacent frown. Swallowing with difficulty, he leant back against the fireplace with zero finesse. “I didn’t see you there.” “What are you two up to?” you asked warily, crossing the room and emptying the bundle of wood in your arms to the scuttle. Steve’s eyes darted to the ceiling, avoiding Thor’s grin which spread at alarming speed. You decided that under the circumstances, you didn’t want to know.

The markers you’d set up were supposed to take four hours to complete, but between intermittent downpours and Thor’s affinity for one-sided conversations with wildlife – it had taken six. The team had done well, and you had tried to let them make their own way as much as possible over steep inclines and thick forest.

Squabbling had inevitably ensued. By the time the beleaguered band piled back into the cottage, flopping on sofas and armchairs and the ancient, creaking recliner – all you wanted to do was sleep for the rest of the trip. “Why don’t we start a fire outside?” Steve announced loudly. You groaned. The sun’s last licks of light flooded through the window, illuminating the cottage lounge in an amber shroud. Loki’s forearm draped over his eyes, punctuating the sentiment with a bitter sigh of discontent. “Why must you always be doing something, Rogers?” he lamented.

To your surprise, Thor snapped up on the seat– eyes bright. “Yes! Yes! We can use the...the..” he and Steve pointed to each other dramatically.

“The groove technique!” they quipped in sync. You and Loki’s sceptical eyes met. His peered beneath a thick jumper sleeve; yours only visible above the worn blanket. For some reason, it smelled of him. “How’s this?” Loki postured slowly as he stretched his ridiculously long legs over the armrest. They dangled. “You two, go make us proud outside...and we will recuperate the energy necessary to deal with the result.”

This seemed to please everyone. Out the window, you enjoyed the unfolding show of the super soldier and the god arguing as they managed to whittle the tools required. “They forgot the moss,” you sighed to yourself, as dark smoke began to waft from the stick between Steve’s thighs. “Norns, the moss!” Thor boomed seconds later, panicked limbs flapping as he ran to the outshed.

To your side, the radio began to play soft jazz of its own accord. “I cannot summon the strength to get up. Don’t tell them,” Loki murmured. His arm was still draped over his eyes.

“It was only walking,” you cooed playfully, craning to see if there was the hint of a smile. There wasn’t. “Not that kind of tired,” he replied quietly, tapping the tip of his cheekbone with one curled finger. Biting your lip, you realised you hovered on the precipice of another early night for the god. And, you found, you didn’t want that at all. It was dark outside, now. “You’re allowed to use magic, you know” you said cheerfully, attempting to shift the mood as you snuggled deeper into the thin blanket. The once familiar scent of myrrh and smoked pine needles filled your nostrils. Really, it was uncanny how much this blanket smelled like-

Loki scoffed. “I suppose. It just feels wrong here, somehow. Like I’m sullying something.” You frowned, holding the ragged edge of the blanket out in front of your eyeline. “Loki, did you use this blanket?” His head tilted to the side, suspicious gaze peering beneath the curl of his fingers. “Yes.” was the strained response. “I draped myself in it when I slept down here the night that I...well-” You couldn’t help the giggle which escaped. In all the years you’d known him, Loki wouldn’t be caught dead using something so unconducive to utter pleasure. The very idea was absurd. Furs and pelts and material so soft it made your fingertips tingle when you touched it. Bedsheets so luxuriously sensual that the sensation of them against the back of your thighs was foreplay. The rooms you shared together had been no different, aside from the occasional cushion cover you’d managed to sneak in – inevitably met with distaste and eventual disappearance from the rotation.

Not even Stark’s voluminous fleece blankets during movie night had been acceptable, Loki always had his own magical stash, much to the envy of the others.

You would snuggle into his chest beneath the weight of it, cushioned at every angle with the heavenly material and his safe hands wrapped tightly beneath. They worked their way beneath your sweaters, each feather-light graze of his fingertip against your skin a promise of what was to come. You shivered. “Is that funny?” he frowned. Hurt bubbled behind his irises, frothing. You shook your head.

“I just wouldn’t have thought…” you said quietly, pursing your lips as the god’s stormy demeanour slipped once more beneath his hand.

The vintage clock on the wall ticked.

“I’m going to check on the guys” you muttered.

Even the bitter chill of darkness which waited outside the cottage door, you had a feeling, would be warmer than this.

Nudged by your encouragement, the sparks created by Steve and Thor had become a healthy blaze.

Flame and smoke twisted upwards to the endless starry night, a miraculous lack of cloud making deep-rooted constellations sparkle.

The three of you perched on a tree trunk the blonde god had heaved over from the edge of the forest. Your chin rested on Thor’s shoulder as you gazed up at the navy sky. After a time, the cottage door slammed. Slow, purposeful footsteps announced Loki’s delayed arrival crunching over the path. Their beat made your heart quicken, its thump soaking into Thor’s puffer jacket.

He walked in front of you all, warming his hands on the fire. They rubbed together, long fingers twisting and locking before he held them up, palms outward. How they glowed, that fair skin luminescent in the fire’s kiss. “Would you give us a moment?” he said.

You could feel the shift on either side of your body as Thor and Steve looked at each other over your head. “Please,” he added coldly, absorbed in the flames. It wasn’t a request. Thor’s jacket hissed as he shuffled from the log, unwinding his arm from your shoulders.

“Yes, well - I have some...business to attend to,” he rumbled – casting another glance at Rogers. Even under the glow of firelight, you were sure the captain was blushing. “Right,” Steve said as he slapped his hands on his thighs. “I’ve been meaning to change the batteries in the ol’...flashlight. They’ve been on the blinkeroo.” With an awkward frown at their efforts, you continued to stare at the back of Loki’s head.

His hair was half tucked into the emerald scarf, dark wisps of wild curl spilling over the curve of his collar. His silhouette was breath-taking; legs wide, triangular and imposing in the caress of flame. If he had any inkling of the captain and his brother’s disappearance into the night, he didn’t show it.

Seconds passed at a crawl.

Sparks jumped and burst from the fire, crackling outward before sinking into darkness. Loki turned, wordlessly seating himself beside you on the tree trunk. You took a moment to look at him. Really look at him. The god pressed each of his fingertips in turn while his gaze was transfixed on the fire. His pupils followed the twisting flames that danced and licked against the night. The shapes pulsed against his cheekbones, a stray thread of hair blowing gently against his jaw. “I’m glad I brought this scarf,” he said quietly, staring ahead. Your eyes fell to the material wound around his neck that had barely left it since you’d arrived. You opened your mouth to speak, before closing it again. “I am sorry that I did not appreciate it-” he swallowed lightly, eyes flickering quickly to yours before looking away, “-when you gave it to me.” You rested a hand on his shoulder, patting gently. Even through the thick wax jacket, and the knitted jumper beneath; you could feel every curve of the muscle you once knew so well. Words turned to nothing in your mind, and somehow – you didn’t need them.

You let the hand fall, looking back to the fire. “Have I ever told you of the cabin?” he murmured, curling the rogue strand behind his ear.

You shook your head. He released a wry chuckle. “No, I suspected as much. I had forgotten it myself until my brother reminded me.” His eyes met yours, alive for the first time since yesterday at the supermarket. They swam with starlight, reflected galaxies spiralling in the smouldering darkness. “My father, well...Odin- built the Asgardian Palace, you know” he mused, running his hands down his thighs with a sigh. “But before that, few people know of where he and my mother resided.”

His voice was gentle, a story-tell lilt replacing the superior twang you had come to associate with his tales of Asgard. This one felt different.

Fighting the urge to tangle your fingers in his hair and mount him, you dug your hands further into your pockets.

“There was a cabin on Midgard. In Tromsø, or what would become Tromsø. It could not be seen other than when the midnight sun shone down beneath two clouds of red, and only the water whispered of it as it travelled through the land. Spoken of in hushed tones around great halls and campfires such as this. Some claimed to have seen it.”

He paused, letting the fire crackle. “Perhaps, some did,” he added quietly. Loki looked up at the exact moment you realised you were staring at him, a dreamy smile spread across your features.

“Before they became what they are to everyone else, they were…” Loki paused, licking his lips. “Different. They hunted, they foraged, they cast magic and made beautiful things for this realm with their kin under the cover of folklore and dreamscapes. They fell in love with each other, with everything. Before they were gods.” “Before?” you gasped quietly. Loki nodded. “All things have a beginning” he murmured, looking back to the flames.

“After the wars, and the taking of Asgard – there was a necessity to leave the cabin-that-had-no-place. And when Thor and I were young, they took us back every Asgardian summer, letting us run in long grass and wear rags and be free on the fjords and hillsides. We had no airs or graces, we played with local children – even flirted a little when we were of that age.” He smiled mischievously. It faded. “But those were different times. A different person, perhaps.”

Loki paused, brows peaking as he stared at the fire. “Or perhaps not.”

You blinked several times, looking away. Flames twisted and blew together as one. “Father gave us these hunting knives when we were sixteen, in your years” he said, an outstretched palm holding the blade. “The summer before our ceremonial inaugurations.”

It glinted in the fire’s glow.

“Uten røtter gjenstår ingenting” you chanted, running the pads of your fingertips over the blade’s inscription.

“Without roots, nothing remains” Loki hummed. “Ironic, considering all it transpired my father covered up. But not entirely without its merit.”

Your brow scrunched, wondering if you should say what you were thinking. “Yes?” he whispered. “Why are you telling me this?” Loki’s eyes tracked down the skim of your cheekbone, falling to your lips before swinging to the crackling fire. He grabbed a stick from the ground, poking the base.

“If I was that boy, once” he said thoughtfully, “then perhaps, there is hope for me. It felt important that I tell you that.” He twirled the stick between his fingers, catching a rogue ember between his tips before it landed on your lap. “I had forgotten him,” he murmured, rubbing the ash between his thumb and index finger. “I liked him.”

You leant your head silently on Loki’s shoulder, feeling his spine soften into the touch. His temple pressed against your hair.

“The thought of you and Thor chatting up poor local Norwegian girls is sending me a bit, you know” you muttered playfully. Loki’s quiet laugh was brighter than the fire.

You stayed like that, flames crackling.

Suddenly something caught your eye to the side, random flashes of white light which flickered on and off about fifty paces to the right.

You frowned, squinting into the darkness. Steve?

The light flickered again. Only the round of the captain’s pert ass was visible behind the tree. You were about to notify Loki to the strange sight when the sky lit up, an almighty crack shaking the air. Instinctively Loki covered your body with his, pressing you down into his lap. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for impact or sirens or the cries of a thousand rallying foes.

The god’s chest lay flush against your back, his breathing heavy as your mouth panted open against his thigh. You turned your head instinctually towards his body, cheek meeting the titanic bulge in his worn jeans. He pressed down further, caging you pressed between his thick trunk and thick-

“NORNS, DID YOU SEE THAT?” The thunder of Thor’s boots sounded against the stone path.

Loki’s breath fanned you ear as he rose, the feeling of his weight leaving bringing you back to reality. Turning, you saw thick smoke billowing into the night sky from the cottage, white against black. Loki jumped to his feet, clenching and unclenching his fists as Thor drew closer. He raked a hand through his hair, observing the unexpected scene with incredulity. Steve appeared, sidestepping closer to the muster as he spoke. “Oh gee, a lightening strike-” he said with unconvincing surprise. “I guess it happens! Thank goodness no one was inside.” The only sound was the crick of Loki’s neck as he edged it one side to another. “Brother,” he growled menacingly.

Thor laughed. “I know what you infer, but I do not know the origin of every strike of lightening. That is preposterous!” His eyes darted to the side, before falling guiltily back to Loki. “Global warming.” he added confidently while Steve nodded sagely beside him. The captain looked down at the flashlight in his hand, hiding it quickly behind his back.

Suddenly your eyes widened. “I think it hit my room.” Before you knew it, you were sprinting towards the cottage with the cries of the three men behind you. Their squabbling was white noise as you threw open the door and barrelled up the stairs. Everything you could see was eerily calm. Undisturbed.

The door to your bedroom swung open beneath cautious fingers. Your breath hitched.

The ceiling was open to the sky, a choking arid smell dissipating in the air. Tiles and smouldering ivy lay scattered around the room’s edge.

Your clothes? Sparse personal effects? Bed? Gone. Ash.

There was an unnatural circular hole in the floor where the lightening had landed, showing the far corner of the living room below.

“My chair!” Thor wailed from downstairs.

His plea was clean and crisp through the gaping hole in the floor. You heard his knees hit the carpet, followed by another thump you could only assume was his forehead.

“My chair,” he whined, quieter this time. “Oh, well done.” came Loki’s scathing response.

“So not only have you decimated one bedroom, but the common room too” Loki muttered venomously, pacing a tight circle in the hall. The lounge window was blown open, shards of glass decorating the floor which held the smoking black outlines of the furniture. “Lightening hath struck the cottage brother,” Thor exclaimed on his knees with theatrical indignation. “Tis’ a natural phenomenon-” “-You’re a natural cretin.” Loki snapped.

“Alright boys let’s just take a beat,” Steve said. “We don’t know what happened here, but suffice to say we’ll deal with the consequences like gentleman.” Loki shook his head, a dry chuckle making his brother flinch.

“Don’t...don’t know what happened, Rogers?!” he quipped with feigned surprise. “Why! Let me just...try to use my magic to un-fuck this mess, shall I?” Thor smirked. Seidr glowed in Loki’s palms, spreading out to the living room. It sloshed upwards like water on a glass dome. “How odd, brother” Loki purred sarcastically. He didn’t even have to look at it. Thor swallowed as Steve’s brows rose. The dark god turned to the captain with a flourish of his wrist.

“My magic doesn’t work on another god’s mischief, you see” he said bluntly. “I suspect I would not be able to locate the whereabouts of your unmentionables, either. But I might start with the crisper if I were you. An old favourite of his.” Thor flushed pink. “Now see here, brother-”

He was cut off by your slow traipse down the stairs. You peeked into the living room; face falling as the three men huddled closer together out of your path. Loki’s mind was afizz. He watched despair cut across your features that not five minutes ago had been resting safely on his shoulder. The memory of that moment, Loki was sure, would sustain him through whatever farce his brother had in store.

“Where am I going to sleep?” you said weakly, looking at Steve. The captain’s lips formed a wide O, eyes vacant. Loki quickly calculated the options. “You can sleep in my room,” he said.

All eyes fell on him. “I will rest...somewhere else. In my brother’s bed as penance for his incredible stupidity.” "What's he got to do with this?" you asked, falling on deaf ears. “And where am I to bed?” Thor huffed. “In the car,” came Loki’s snap response. “Well actually uh-” Steve inhaled deeply, exhaling though his nose. “That won’t be possible. Thor and I need to stay in our assigned lodgings.” “What!?” “Our assigned lodgings.” Loki rolled his eyes.

“Yes, brother. Rogers and I have some important...business to discuss later.” Thor’s eyes flickered to Steve, who nodded. But he didn’t look happy about it. “Assigned lodgings.” he repeated. “I’ll just sleep in the bath,” you said with finality. Loki could tell the tension smothering the hallway was too much. Steve nodded once, clapping you on the shoulder. He gestured for Thor to go first up the stairs. He did, with a final shifty glance backwards.

Loki observed every single step up to the landing with infinite mistrust, hearing their door close with a soft click. Muttering ensued. “You are not sleeping in the bath, Agent. You’ll freeze to death” he spat, running an anxious hand through his hair as he kicked shards of glass from the lounge window further inside the room.

You groaned, resting your forehead against the door-frame. Loki straightened, clasping his hands behind his back. “Take my room.” he uttered, laden with ceremony. “I am a Prince of Asgard, I insist. My word is law. Obey me or face the consequences.” Your face titled towards him, your mouth twitching in a reluctant smile. Loki returned it. “I feel awful,” you whined, biting your lip.

How Loki wished you hadn’t bit your lip. Suddenly, your eyes lit. “Sleep in the room with me. This is dire straights and with those two being weirdos about it-” “-I couldn’t possibly.” he said quickly, catching what he thought might be disappointment in your eyes. The god’s feet shuffled on the floor, seconds ticking loudly. Even a blast of lightening couldn't destroy vintage clocks, apparently.

“On the floor...perhaps.” Loki said. “You could conjure a nice blanket?” you probed. “Some fancy pillows? A treat. No shitty blankets.” Loki nodded, hoping it looked reluctant. Despite it being a terrible idea, excitement twisted in his stomach. “You go ahead,” he said softly. “I’ll be right up.”

He savoured the shape of them on his tongue. It had been a long time, Loki thought wistfully as he watched you go, since he’d said those words.

You flicked the light on, before turning it off again.

Best to just go to sleep, and then...it will be morning. No chatting. Next door, in Thor and Steve’s room, a floorboard creaked.

You looked around the small space, bigger than yours. But the layout was roughly the same, Loki’s single bed slightly off-centre, near to the wall. A small wardrobe sat sadly in the corner, his collection of outdoor-wear hanging neatly. It was hard to place the feeling bubbling in your chest.

Nerves. Anticipation? You hadn’t been this nervous since the night you and Loki had first had sex. You smiled, remembering how the knowledge that lingerie sat snug beneath your casual clothes made you wish the night away before you finally fell into his bed. It had been the best night of your life. Until that point, anyway. We’re not having sex, you chided silently as you quickly pulled off your clothes and left them in a pile by the bed. We’re not.

But for a second, you couldn’t remember why.

Naked, you suddenly recalled that your nightdress was ash next door.

Fuck, you thought; before hearing the low creak of Loki’s ascent up the stairs. You briefly considered displaying yourself nude and draped over the bedpost with your legs spread. But you decided your ego couldn't take that kind of knock right now - not when a kiss had been too far. You darted to the wardrobe, grabbing something and shoving it over your head before leaping to the bed. Fighting the folds of his tightly packed blankets, you shimmied between the thin sheets. He knocked gently, twice. “Come in,” you said casually.

The sound of low gasps and girlish whispers echoed from next door. Or maybe it was the wind. Loki’s hand appeared on the doorknob, pushing at arm’s length. Tentatively, his face came into view, averting his gaze to the door jam. The sight made you want to scream.

“Are you decent?” he murmured formally. At your confirmation, his gaze found you on the bed, knees curled to your chest and one of his t-shirts hanging loose around your body. Casual. Totally casual. “Ah, I’m glad you found something suitable,” he said gingerly as he made his way quietly to the window and pulled the curtains.

A plump comforter unfurled from green light on the floor, one silken pillow at its top. Magic rolled over his body, revealing the pyjama bottoms he’d been wearing all week. The ones that clung to his ass, shifting like water as he moved.

You swallowed.

“This is all I have in the closet, I’m afraid” he murmured half-apologetically as he patted his heart.

His eye twitched, fighting a wink.

Deep valleys of his stomach muscle clenched as he breathed, the V of his hips carved and beautiful above the hem of the loose trousers. The bulge of his cock shifted in moonlight as he dropped to his haunches, arranging the pillow. You cleared your throat, straightening your legs. “It’s fine, thank you for...this.” He offered a curt nod as he quickly arranged himself beneath the blanket. Rolling onto your side, your fingers slid up your temple through your hair. "You think that Thor made lightening hit the cottage?" "Yes." Your nose wrinkled. "Why would he do that?" Loki snorted derisively as he fluffed his luxurious pillow. Goose down, from the sound of it. "He's trying to be mischievous," he said gruffly. "It doesn't suit him." You rolled back on the bed with a squeak, mind working.

“Goodnight,” Loki whispered in the darkness. The salutation seemed unfinished, somehow.

What felt like hours passed.

The god's breathing was steady, but he shifted every so often with a breathy moan you were sure was intentional. You curled deeper on your side, facing away from him. It was freezing, the usual chill of the cottage not helped by the gaping hole in the roof next door no doubt. Was he facing away from you too? You decided to indulge yourself, rolling over beneath a rustle of bedsheets. Loki lay on his side, facing towards the bed. Dark curls were strewn over his forehead, one hand under the pillow while the other rested by his stomach. The blanket was pushed down to his waist, moonlight illuminating the shadowed carvings of his body. “Can’t sleep?” he purred groggily.

You closed your eyes quickly. “I’m cold, that’s all.” you said, hoping your voice didn’t betray the thundering of your sex. Just being in the same room, half-clothed, sleeping – the evidence of your desire for him slid uncomfortably between your thighs. “How rude, I should have given you my blanket-” There was silence, as Loki considered his words. “Do you want this blanket?” he asked quietly. You put all your mortal strength into making your teeth chatter. “N-n-n-no, you’ve already given me your b-b-bed-” “-You know, you’re making this very difficult for me, Agent” Loki chided from the floor. “The only other option is my-” he paused, making your heart stop. “Body heat” he finished.

“Both?” you whispered, half-hoping he wouldn’t hear it.

It hung between you. You opened one eye, catching the glimpse of his milk-slick silhouette rising silently, cast against the moonlight. The blanket hung from one fist, fingers clenching and unclenching. “Heat,” Loki mumbled quietly.

You wondered if he knew he’d done it.

He paced once, stopping at the bed’s edge. Your eyes met, the set of his jaw only softened by lightly parted lips. Lust burned in dark pupils, the energy making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Curls fell around his shoulders, the natural scent of his crotch lingering tantalisingly in the air above your nose. God, how you missed that. You shuffled over in the single mattress, realising at once that it would be a very tight fit. He cast a glance to the foot of the bed, and back again.

“Perhaps my brother is still awake, I should make my lodgings there,” he murmured regretfully. Your eyes widened. “But-” “Wait here,” he said firmly.

On his way to the door, he turned and threw the blanket to rest with a flourish over the bed. No sooner had his fingers wrapped around the doorknob and pulled, Thor’s voice came through the wall. Muffled, but unmistakable. ‘Good gods, Rogers...don’t stop,” the voice groaned. “Where did you learn to do that with your argh-f-fingers?’ ‘The army,’ came the abrupt response.

There was another fetid moan. Loki released the door-handle like hot coal while you covered your mouth with your hands. The god hung his head, tendrils of dark hair clouding his expression from view. “Alright...” he breathed stoically to himself before turning to the bed.

Each pace was measured as he drew closer, every creak of the floorboards making you ache for him with every fibre of your being.

“You are cold,” he said slowly, penitently, as his knuckles sank into the mattress.

One knee followed suit.

He tilted his head, biting his lip as his brows knitted with some unsaid thought.

“I can help with that, at least,” he murmured to the darkness.

Continued in Darkest Night, Brightest Day

A/N - If you're not screaming at the wall right now then I haven't done my job. Ps. If anyone can identify, in full, the actual cunning plan, you will win a prize. Tags @lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @liminalpebble @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @mrs-illyrian-baby @icytrickster17 @multifandom-worlds @muddyorbs @buttercupcookies-blog @megschaef98

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galaxychaos78 · 7 months

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being roommates with wolf hybrid!kiba, cat hybrid!shikamaru, and puppy!naruto going through their heat cycles and you're the center of attention.

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read my first roommate hybrid post here!

Poor puppy!Naruto has his at the beginning of the week and of course it's on your late night grocery run with him. You pick up on it almost immediately; the way he clings to you, the way he becomes snappy and growling whenever any of the other shoppers get close to you. The way he seems to sweat, his cheeks always a rosy red as he tugs and claws at his clothes to try and get out of them. He presses up against you in the produce section, whining in your ear about how hot he feels and how good you smell. You cart of snacks and other foods stay in the aisle and you mentally apologize to the grocery store employee that has to put it all away as you drag Naruto out of the store. As you speed home, Naruto manages to unbutton his pants, moaning loudly at the cool air hitting his sticky boxers. He pulls his cock out and the wet squelch that follows as he tugs at it makes his body shiver. He begs so sweetly and shamelessly, fat tears in his eyes as he cries at you to pull over and let him breed you. That it hurts so much. And what kind of roommate would you be to make your friend suffer any longer than he has to?

"N-Narut-oh!" Your head is thrown back against the plush upholstery of your backseat, the car shaking violently with Naruto's thrusts. His hands dig into the plush skin of your hips and he squeezes tightly, as if you'd run away from him. He's panting heavily, his chest flushed red and shimmering with a layer of sweat, moving up and down with every gulp of air he takes. Drool leaks from his mouth as he whimpers, trying to push himself deeper and deeper into the wet heat of your cunt.

"T-tight! So warm-hng!" A strangled moan leaves his lips and he's too caught up with how good your cunt feels; how it squeezes and sucks him in like a vice, how it squelches with every thrust, with how fucking soaked you are, to even warn you that he's cumming. Thick hot ropes of his cum fill up your pussy and you let out a whine, your hands digging into the seat he currently had you pinned down to.

You can hear the faint sound of cars passing by on the nearby road and you silently thank every higher power that the roads are dark. Naruto looks as if he's about to collapse, steadying himself by gripping the roof of your car. He's panting like he just ran a marathon and you can see from the faint orange glow of the streetlamp above just how flushed red his face is.

"I'll pay to clean your car," He murmurs dazedly as he pulls out, his gaze transfixed on the way his thick seed spills out of your cunt in fat globs as your walls clench around nothing. Sky blue eyes glazed over as he watches his cum trickle under the fat of your asscheeks and stain the black mini skirt and the lace pink panties he haphazardly pushed aside, leaking down down to pool on the plush upholstery of your backseat. His cock, glistening with your arousal and his bright red mushroom tip still leaking cum, hardens almost immediately again. "Just...just lemme fuck you again.."

Cat!hybrid Shikamaru doesn't get his heat until 3 weeks after Naruto's and by then he's already smelled the puppy's scent on you. It makes him irritable a few days before; he glares at Naruto whenever they pass by in the kitchen and he barely comes out of his room. You go to knock on his door to see if he wants any lunch, but you're barely able to knock a second time before he suddenly comes wearing nothing but one of his thin hoodies and his boxers. His face is slightly flushed red but assume that you've just woken him up from one of his afternoon naps. There's a glare on his face and it makes you regret even bugging him. Before you can even apologize, he yanks you into his room and slams the door behind him. He's muttering something you can't make out, and before you could even ask what was wrong, he's pouncing on you. Black ears flicking back and forth and tail swishing from side to side, he mutters something about how you need to help him take care of the problem you caused. And what kind of roommate would you be if you just left him to take care of his problems on his own?

"You're such a tease y'know that?" Shikamaru grunts as he slams his cock in and out of you at a ruthless pace. One of his hands is clutching the fat of your ass tightly and the other is tangled into your hair, pressing your face into his pillows. "Lettin' Naruto hit when you know damn fuckin' well I wanted to fuck you." He's mean, uncharacteristically so. Shikamaru was usually nice (or as nice as he could get). Sure he was blunt, but he was never like this; talking to you so rudely that it makes you whimper into his pillows. Makes your eyes sting with tears as you turn to press your cheek against his sheets, looking back at him with a pout that usually has him begrudgingly doing whatever you asked of him, but now the sight of it only makes his hips snap harder into you and a choked out sob leaves your pouty lips.

His grunts are soft and hoarse, but the way his hips snap against you has the headboard banging against the walls. "Too pretty for your own fuckin' good," He mutters as his bare chest hits your back, his shirt discarded on his floor somewhere as he presses messy kisses to your shoulder blades. "N' this cunt is to die for fuck. Stuff of fuckin' dreams." He wouldn't tell you that he's dreamt about you like this before; that he's jerked off to the times he's copped a feel of your tits, to the way your ass looks in those skimpy shorts and mini skirts. That's what makes him cum deep inside, and he shivers as you mewl pathetically, trying to squirm away from it all but he keeps his cock plunged deep in your pussy. "Just take it Princess, that's it.." He doesn't pull out even as he gets soft, only grins as you slur out his name and look up at him with those tear filled eyes. "C'mon baby, you can gimme one more yeah? S' your fault anyways after all.."

Werewolf! Kiba is last to get his heat and it hits him the hardest. The scent of Naruto and Shikamaru lingers on your skin and it usually wouldn't bother him; hell the four of you are all roommates, it's to be expected. But Kiba's sense of smell is deeper and, along with smelling them faintly on your skin, he can smell their scents on your fucking cunt. No amount of lavender scented body wash and lace panties can cover up their scents on you and you're blissfully unaware. Unaware that everytime Kiba walks into your room for movie nights with an armful of snacks, that everytime you perch yourself on his lap because your bed is too small to fit his massive frame, that he has to physically stop himself from tearing away the flimsy pajama bottom material and fuck himself into you out of jealousy, out of a desperate primal need.

He lasts halfway through the movie before he finally snaps. You were drowsy; your head nestled into the crook of his shoulder, your hand resting against his bicep, and your legs draped over his hips. His arm cupped under your thighs and he could feel the weight of your ass against his arm. And he realizes something, something that has him silently apologizing to God for what he was about to do.

You weren't wearing any panties.

In a flash, your pajama bottoms are in shreds and Kiba's sweatpants are pulled down in a haze. "M' sorry doll, m' so sorry.." Kiba's voice is breathless as he pulls you close to him, your back pressed tight against his chest as one of his big hands stay on your stomach to keep you in place. "Just need to do this 'kay?" He's so sweet when he apologizes that it has you nodding your head, that it has you feeling guilty even though you've done nothing wrong. And what kind of roommate would you be if you didn't let him do what he wanted?

You're losing it; drool leaking out of the side of your mouth and your mind turned to nothing but mush as your eyes roll back into your skull. Whimpering and clutching Kiba's bicep, wanting him to slow down but barely being able to speak. Kiba's arm is draped over your tummy, keeping you flushed against his chest as he mercilessly pounds into your poor little pussy. He's big, always has been, and his cock is no different. He bullied his way into your heat, biting at your shoulder blade to hold back the animalistic growl. The bed squeaks and rocks from the weight of him, from the sheer force of his thrusts. "Hate it," He grunts and for a moment you think he means you. "Hate that those two got to fuck this cunt before me." He punctuates his distaste with a particularly rough thrust that has a loud squeal leaving your throat. "Which one got you first hm? Which one of those assholes stuffed your pussy first?" The more he speaks, the more he ends up thinking about it, the rougher he becomes. His arm leaves your tummy and goes to spread your thighs apart, planting his feet down on your bed before pounding into you with such force, it has all breath leaving your lungs.

The rough slap-slap-slap sound of skin against skin echoes through your room. Through blurry eyes, you can see the bulge of his cock shaping around in your tummy and it has you moaning out. He's so deep, as if he's trying to mold your pussy, your tummy, into the shape of his cock. He's huffing and grunting, leaving messy kisses against your neck, your shoulder. Any inch of skin he can reach.

He cums so much; hot and thick and so overwhelming that it has your vision going spotty. Kiba's shushing you gently as you squirm, as you cry out and let fat tears trickle down your cheeks. It's a downright mess when he pulls out; thick globs of milky white cum leaking out of your abused cunt and soaking your bedsheets with the scent of sex, the scent of Kiba. The movie is long forgotten now and you've barely gathered yourself before Kiba's gently flipping you onto your stomach and raising your ass high in the air.

"Can still smell em' on you pretty. Not gonna stop until that pretty pussy reeks of my cock.."

#I know its been a while and I've seen a lot of hybrid content but never really written a smut like this so forgive me if its not accurate #sorry if this isn't my best smutt waaa🥺🥺#kiba inuzuka x reader #kiba inuzuka #kiba inuzuka smut #naruto uzumaki x reader #naruto uzumaki #naruto uzumaki smut #nara shikamaru #nara shikamaru x reader #nara shikamaru smut #hybrid au

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domesticandlovingmonsters · 28 days

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Pick Your Romance Starter- Dark Fae Addition

Plot/Story: Oh no, you've fallen into the Fae Realm through a circle of mushrooms. How convenient, I mean inconvenient! And look, there's some hot Fae men wanting you're attention...how so very clique. But they're not all flowers and sunshine. That would be too damn easy, wouldn't it?

Warnings: Dark Fae, slight non-con touch, blood, 10k words

Notes: The dry-spell has finally worn off and I present to you a little morsel of writing.

Poll is 'here' (Patreon) and here (Tumblr)to choose which character is written for first!

Poll has been finished! Hezirus got the pick. Here is another poll to choose what type of spicey story you want with him.

This is all based on a world built together with a friend. The characters are OCs of mine we play with and use in our stories together. And for your amusement, and torture for my friend, I have started a series where you pick which one I write for first.

This will be a heavy female x male character story. I apologize to my MxM and FxF readers. But I do plan on making these three fuck eventually. Just because it's fun.

And by all means, give me ideas and feedback. I crave the attention!

Enjoy!

The sharp iron-like smell filled your senses and you felt yourself falling. The warm night air turned bitterly cold and the light from the street disappeared into a wall of black. You blinked. The wind whooshing around you was as loud as a hurricane; before your feet slammed onto stone and you stumbled into something hard and cold. And everything went unnaturally quiet.

You opened your eyes. Blinking rapidly to remove the haziness from your vision as you reached out, calling for your friend. It was dark. Too dark for your eyes just yet.

Your fingers found the cold bars of something circling you. Your hand followed it until you pushed away and stood on your own two feet. Swaying a little, the alcohol still affected your body even as the adrenaline coursed through you.

Finally, after some more blinking and squinting into the dark, your eyes adjusted. And horror filled your stomach as you looked around you.

You were in a cage. An iron cage in the center of a dark room. The floor, the pillars, the walls, all made from gray, smoothed stone. Dust layered the ground like a blanket around your small prison. And thick, but empty, cobwebs lined the corners of the room.

It didn’t look like anyone had been in here for…a very long time.

Your eyes caught the faintest touch of blue light on the floor and you looked down. Finding a glowing ring of sigils carved into the floor, fully encircling your cage. And everytime you moved, the strange letters pulsed with energy and that sharp smell filled your nose once more.

Something in you whispered that it was the same diameter of the mushroom circle you had jumped into… And with that thought, horror filled you. It had happened. It actually…worked. But not in the way you expected.

You don’t know how long you stood in that cage for, calling out into the darkness. It was long enough that the effects of tonight's drinks had worn off and the feeling of dehydration was starting to kick in.

The cold of the room settled on your skin like ice. And you tried to huddle up as much as you could, trying to preserve as much body heat as possible. But the cold iron and the freezing stone was sapping away at your warmth like a hungry beast.

Eventually, just as you started to think you’d be in this dark room forever, a door opened. One you didn’t see at the far end of the room that spilled bright, warm sunlight into the shadows. Making the twilight scatter and your eyes hurt from the blinding rays.

“Well, well, well, I thought all my little traps had been sealed off.” A velvety voice echoed from the doorway. The very sound settled on your skin like the breeze of an autumn afternoon. “What a surprise, indeed.”

Something shifted to your right but when you looked, only darkness stared back. Hiding behind a stone pillar, escaping the bright morning light.

You blinked until the sunlight stopped blinding you and the stranger approached. His boots echoed in the empty room as he closed the distance. His face silhouetted by the soft glow of the blue circle at his feet.

He was handsome. Very handsome. The type of handsome you would take a second glance at because you weren’t sure if your brain properly processed his face. His hair was a slight mess, a dark but silky tangle of blonde and deep brown. Matching a gaze that was fixed, but curious. And you felt every inch of your skin alight with a cold fire when those copper coloured eyes raked over your body. Not an inch of you was left untouched by his gaze. And it left you a little breathless when he smiled.

But your mind was racing. A voice deep within your mind was telling you to run. To hide. Get away from this man and never look back.

“What’s your name, sweet thing?” The man asked. The softest curl of a smirk twitching the corner of his lips.

But you didn’t give it. You weren’t stupid. And you remembered what happened. You jumped into a ring of mushrooms and suddenly you were falling. Even if you could blame this on a drunken dream, you still didn’t give this man your name.

When you didn’t reply, the smirk stretched fully across the stranger's face. “Ah, so you’re smart. That’s cute. I haven’t had a smart one in a long time. Come along, then. Let’s get you cleaned up. You’re exactly what I need to make up for my little blunder last night.”

The cage groaned around you and three of the metal bars slid into the ground. Allowing you a doorway to step out of your small prison and into the stream of light from the door.

The stranger didn’t look at you as he led the way out of the cold stone room. But still addressed you as you stepped out into the light. “My apologies for leaving you in that cold room all night. We had a little…accident, and I was busy until this morning.”

The man led you into a long corridor of more stone. Though the temperature was vastly more welcoming than the room, it was just as empty and just as dusty. You passed many doors like the one from where you landed. Some were left open, revealing more empty areas with a single cage. Others were closed but something dark marked the metal entryway. It looked suspiciously like old blood.

If this stranger saw you staring, he didn’t give any move to answer your unspoken questions. He led you up a spiraling staircase and a door of heavy carved wood and granite, creaked open before he touched it. Opening up into a sprawling room of many desks and shelves and cabinets.

“Clean her.” The stranger said. And from beneath the desks, dark tendrils launched towards you. Black, clawed hands wrapped around your wrists and ankles. Icy cold fingers latched onto your throat, squeezing just enough to silence the scream of fright from your lungs. Iron strength yanked you forward, making your attempts at fleeing fruitless as you were dragged towards a large basin.

More arms of shadows rose from the stone floor and you watched as steaming hot water was poured into the tub. Buckets of water manifesting from darkness and then disappearing when dropped to the floor.

You didn’t get to take a breath before you were lifted and then dumped into the basin. Hot water burned your skin and drenched your clothes. You gasped for air, but a cold hand slammed your head back under the water and you felt harsh bristles scrape over your bare skin. Something sweet smelling poured onto your hair as your head was yanked back out of the water for a brief moment

You coughed and spluttered, barely getting a breath in before you were dunked back into the water.

Your clothes were torn away. Despite your best effort to keep them against your skin, the material ripped apart under the strength of these shadowy limps. You wrapped your arms around your chest, obscuring the man’s beautiful gaze from seeing too much.

His smile was too sweet. Too wide as you were finally released and you turned your back to him. Your skin burned from the brush and soap. Your hair felt silky and smelled like a field of freshly bloomed flowers. But you were completely bare in front of him.

“That’s much better.” The man said. Leaning against a desk nearby. His molten gaze took in every inch of you before he waved his hand and a shadow presented him with a dress. “Wear this. It suits you much better than…whatever else you were wearing.”

When you didn’t get out of the tub, the man sighed and rolled his eyes. Then he turned around so he was leaning against the desk with his palms on the surface of the table. “I won’t look. Go on, try it on.”

You hesitated. But already the water was starting to get cold and you couldn’t sit in here forever. Curled up and shivering. You sighed heavily and carefully slipped out of the water.

Another shadow appeared beside you with a towel. But it didn’t allow you to take it. Instead, it dried you off, harshly rubbing the soft material against your body until your skin felt sore from the material. But dry.

You grumbled a curse towards the man and snatched the dress from the floating shadow.

Surprisingly, the man kept his word and didn’t turn around. Until you were in the dress and staring down at yourself in horror.

The material was thin…extremely thin… You might as well stand in front of him naked without the gentle glimmer of the sparkly dress. And it was very tight. You could see every curve of your breasts and hips, down to your thighs before the dress spilled out around your feet like a bronze ink spill. The only saving grace to this material was that it darkened around your chest and lower center. Refusing to give a full, clean picture of your body that was hidden beneath the dress.

It didn’t stop the perked peaks of your nipples from the cold air. And the stranger hummed a low sound in his throat as he adjusted the sleeve of the dress and picked at some imaginary lint on your waist.

“Much, much better.” The man said. He started to circle you. His eyes scraped over your body as you stood frozen under his gaze. He picked at the dress and the shadows appeared with trinkets and jeweled chains. Your wrists were wrapped in silk and your neck was decorated by a thin, delicate silver chain with topaz stones resting warmly against your neck. A belt of lace loosely circled your hips and your cheeks were assaulted by a dusting of red. Giving you a small blush before cold hands grabbed your face and the man stepped closer.

His forefinger lengthened, growing a black claw that came to a dangerously pointed tip. And you tried to yank yourself away from him but the shadows held you firmly in place. You could only watch in growing horror as the dark talon descended towards your eye…and cautiously drew a line along your upper lashes. Then the man delicately did the same on the other. Giving you a perfect dark eye-liner flick.

The man then stood back. His other hand held your chin as he tilted your face back and forth, admiring the touches he did to you. The shadows relaxed when you did. And you allowed this stranger to do what he wished with your face.

“What’s your name?” You asked him. Finding this close proximity with the handsome face was filling your chest with sharp flutters. You could see the finer details. The sharp, pointed ears. The tattoos under the collar of his shirt and the dusting of gold along his face. Perhaps a decorative choice?

“Jackal Borcalas, Royal Archivist and Spy Master of the Wilds” His smile was predatory. Proud. Cocky. As if the widening of your eyes gave him a sense of smugness. “But Jackal is fine, sweet thing. And yours?”

He said it so casually you almost willingly gave it to him. Like carrying on a normal conversation. But you clapped your mouth shut and glared up at Jackal. Rewarding yourself with a laugh from the Spy Master.

“Ah, well, you can’t blame a man for trying.” Jackal said, shrugging. Then his hands moved from your face down to your body. Adjusting chains and bracelets and anything else the shadows had placed on you.

But you found his hand barely touched you. His fingers brushed over your hips but didn’t linger for too long. The pads of his fingers glossed over your perked nipples but his eyes didn’t stray any longer than they needed. His attention was too focused on his task that you doubted he even knew where he was touching.

“Gorgeous.” Jackal purred. And despite the hungry look in his eyes, you sensed the genuine compliment behind his words. Or was that just a…Fae thing to get you comfortable around him. “Now, a few things before I throw you to the wolves.”

You felt the blood drain from your face with his words. And that wicked smile returned, alongside the cold touch of shadows as they wrapped around your legs and started moving them. You felt like a doll on strings, puppeteered after Jackal as he turned and exited the room.

Your captor led you into more corridors and halls. Many stone steps and coloured glass windows that bathed you in greens and golds and bronze. You didn’t get to look around. The shadows had you transfixed on watching Jackal’s back as he walked through…wherever you were.

“If you want to live through the day, you will follow these rules to the absolute letter. Do not look directly into his eyes. He gets…crabby when you do it for too long. And keep your hands off of him unless he places them somewhere. He doesn’t like to be touched. Do not turn your back on him unless he tells you to do so, and for the love of the Moon, do not touch his horns. Just…keep your hands to yourself unless you’re ordered otherwise.” Jackal said all this while he led you towards a massive metal door. The shadows relieved their hold just enough that you could finally look around you. But your gaze was transfixed on the entrance before you.

Towering above you was a grotesque, twisted display of melted weapons and armor. Swords Maces Axes Shields Any and all kinds had been liquified against the doors. You spotted helmets and chest plates carved through with spears. All dented, all worn, from battle.

“Oh, and also, for my later entertainment, keep yourself alive.” Jackal whispered, looking over your shoulder at him. “We haven’t had a human here in…centuries. So try to make your stay last a little longer than a few minutes.”

With a wave of Jackal’s hand, the war-torn doors opened with an ear-clawing sound of metal on the stone floor.

A blast of heat slammed into you as a voice as deep as thunder growled from within a dimly lit room. “What do you want, snake?” Your very bones vibrated with the voice. And a knot of fear coiled in your stomach as Jackal entered the room.

The shadows had you follow him and you entered a room that was more like a throne room. It was a vast space of furs and blankets. Blazing fires were cradled in braziers along the walls and candles flickered on hanging chandeliers made of bone and skulls. The scent of sulfur and burning meat filled your nose and you tried not to gag as you passed a body laying on the floor. Three deep gashes tore up the person’s back and blood pooled around their limp body. Their face twisted in agony and terror.

Jackal didn’t even look at it. He continued to stroll into the heated room towards a pile of furs and hides.

“I brought you a gift.” Jackal said. His voice echoing in the massive room. Mixing with the heavy breathing of something huge in front of you. The shadows didn’t let you go. They kept you firmly in place behind Jackal.

Something sniffed the air. And you felt the very air around you shift with each deep breath. You started shaking as the tiled floor trembled. The blast of heat came closer and closer. The heat in the room roared and you felt like your arms were being scorched by a blazing fire. Your ears popped and the tremble through the floor halted, but you heard the distinct sound of bare feet stepping over tile towards you.

And then Jackal stepped to the side and you were suddenly staring at a broad chest of muscle and scales.

The shadows released your head. Allowing you to look up, almost craning your neck all the way back, to meet a burning red gaze of a man. He was massive, much taller than 6ft and broad, rippling with muscle. Scars streaked across his arms and chest, giving a stark pale contrast to his dark complexion. A creature of war and battle.

But what was more terrifying was the plating of black scales that protruded from his dark skin. Horns swept out from atop his head. Splitting apart thick, shiny black hair that was braided amongst the crown of thick spikes. And his gaze was heavy. Watching. Calculating.

Jackal tsked harshly and you quickly dropped your eyes. Remembering what Jackal had said only moments before.

The man in front of you growled, a deep rumble that rippled through you like thunder. “A human?” A voice of stone sounded surprised. And you flinched when a massive hand wrapped around your waist, his fingers almost completely encircling your hips, and yanked you closer.

Black scales filled your vision as the man buried his nose into your hair. You felt him take a deep breath and the growl turned into something like a broken purr as the man laughed a cynical chuckle. “Is this your way of saying sorry, snake?” The scaled man snapped at Jackal. Releasing you before stalking over to the much smaller man.

Despite their size difference, and the display of bared teeth from the other man, Jackal remained perfectly calm. His hands resting behind his back as if he was having a casual conversation with someone.

“This is my way of mending my mistake.” Jackal replied slowly. “Hezirus will want her for himself. But I thought you should get some time with her before she’s claimed entirely. I thought it would be a nice…treat, Maahes, from me to you. From a friend.”

That word brought a snarl out of Maahes. Like he didn’t like how it sounded coming out of Jackal’s mouth. “Watch it, snake. You almost cost me my territory last night. A morsel won’t make up for that blunder.”

“Then let it be the start of my amendment to you.” Jackal titled his chin down in a submissive display. And whatever rage Maahes had, seemed to melt away. You felt the sharp tang of something hit your nose and suddenly the beast in front of you roared.

Claws raked through the marble pillar where Jackal had been standing moments before. Then you felt the shadows retreat and Jackal was standing in the doorway behind you. An amused smile across his lips

Maahes roared again, crimson eyes glowing with a surge of anger. “Keep your filthy magic out of my head!”

The doors slammed closed with a thunderous bang as Jackal laughed. Leaving you alone with a creature that was practically shaking with rage.

Your eyes swooped to the floor when the beast looked at you. You heard the click of claws as he approached. Two dark tree trunks entered your view and you realized he was standing right in front of you. He at least wasn’t naked, wearing a loose pair of dark trousers. But the thin dress did very little to make you feel protected at this moment.

“What is your name?” Maahes asked. You didn’t respond, cowering in front of him. The beast snarled and a rough grip wrapped around the underside of your jaw and forced you to look up at him. You kept your gaze from staring into the pools of rubies, looking at the scar that carved down his neck and to his collarbone. “I am not a Fairy, sweet morsel. I won’t use your name against you. What do I call you?”

You felt him lift you a little. Until you were standing on your tiptoes to stop him from choking you. “(y/n)” You managed to say. And the grip released you.

“Get me a drink, (y/n).” Your name rolled on his tongue like he was tasting you through those words. It sounded awfully sinful to hear it. And you quickly hurried over to the table by the dead body. Where an array of goblets and bottles were laid out. You choose the largest cup and fill it with an amber liquid. You had to carry it with both hands to ensure it didn’t spill and didn’t strain one arm too much. Hurrying back to Maahes, who had returned to lounge on the pile of furs. Which even his massive frame seemed to be swallowed by the vast mattress of pelts.

The beast rumbled. But it wasn’t an aggressive sound. You almost thought he sounded pleased as you carefully climbed onto the furs and offered him the wine. He took the cup from your hands. And as he pressed the wine to his lips, his free hand lashed out and took purchase of your hips before you attempted to step away.

You couldn’t fight him. The amount of strength beneath those fingers alone was enough to pull you towards him with barely any effort.

You found yourself flush against his side. His scales, rough and jagged, pushed painfully against your soft skin. And once you were positioned how he wanted, the hand moved down to cup your ass. His talons caught on the material of your dress as he squeezed hard. Making you wince a little.

“How did the snake manage to catch you?” Maahes asked. Placing his cup precariously on a position of the bed as he moved so he was on top of you. His nose scraped against your neck and you felt his teeth playfully pull at the silver chain around your throat. “Trapping humans was outlawed centuries ago. Did he say some pretty words and you were suddenly here? Or did you fall through a mirror?”

His words were surprisingly teasing for how rough his hands were on your body. The pads of his fingers were calloused and coarse, sweeping along your thighs before moving you so he could settle between your legs. He was massive above you. Obscuring the ceiling and bone chandeliers with his mass.

You explained what happened. Recalling the ring of mushrooms on the side of the walkway on your way home. The stupid decision to test fate and jump into the circle. Laughing, thinking nothing would come of it. And then accidentally said ‘we’ jumped in, and those crimson eyes pulsed intensely.

“There’s two of you?” Maahes asked. Glancing at the door as if Jackal was about to come through it again with another person. You said you didn’t see your friend in the cage and the man shrugged. Returning his mouth to the hollow of your neck. His lips sending goosebumps along your skin as his hot breath bathed along your chest.

It was a long moment of licking and hard nips along your neck before Maahes changed position. Burying his face against your breasts. Even through the dress, you could feel his mouth hungrily take in your left nipple and rake his tongue over the peak.

“No matter. I’ll feast on you first before I worry about someone else's pet.” You felt him shift against you and something huge and hard pressed against your clothed core. Then Maahes raised his mouth and a burning hot tongue seared along your neck, carrying the smell of wine and meat along your flesh, up to your cheek before your lips were harshly trapped between Maahes’.

Your struggling only seemed to amuse Maahes. As you tried to push him off and twist away from him. But just as he forced your lips open with his tongue, the doors to the room blasted open in a cold gust of wind. The flames around you simmered out under the gust and the chandeliers swung wildly above you.

Maahes growled and tore his mouth from yours. He poised above you like a beast protecting a kill. Thick arms caging you against the bed as the sound of his snarl ripped through you. You could feel the vibrations through your core, from where his covered bulge was firmly pressed against your core.

You turned your head, peering around Maahes’ arms to see a gorgeous man standing in the streaming sunlight. Like an angel, wings of bronze and gold framed his tall figure and a thick set of arms were crossed over his chest. Lines crinkled his perfect brow and long chocolate brown hair was kept away from his face by a gold crown of gnarled vines and flowers.

“Maahes,” The man said the beast’s name like a warning. But his tone was playful, teasing. “What have you got there?”

Maahes’ snarl crumbled into a softer sound. But he didn’t move from atop of you. His talons ripped into the furs as his hands turned to fists beside your body. “She’s mine.”

“Not anymore she isn’t.” The angel said. Stepping into the dark room, closer to the creature that was bent low over your frozen body. “I caught her scent on my way to breakfast. I don’t know how Jackal got her, but she’s a guest in my palace. I won’t have you break her on her first morning here.”

Soft, bronze eyes fell upon you and his smile softened. But those warning bells in your head were singing again. Even more so than they had with Jackal. “Give her to me, Maahes.” The man said, his wings opening a touch to make him seem so much bigger than he was. “I won’t ask again.”

The beast above you growled deep and threatening. You braced for something to happen. Another gust of wind. A fist. Claws. Something.

But then the heavy, hot weight of Maahes disappeared as he crawled off of you. And you scrambled off the bed to stand beside the winged man. Hiding behind him as his wing opened to protect you from Maahes’ heated gaze. “Good boy.” The crowned stranger said. A very careful smile placed over his lips. “Do not let me catch you playing with her again.”

Maahes’ gaze lowered to the furs. But you could see the tension in his body and the thick, throbbing vein that was protruding from his neck. He bowed. “Yes, Prince Hezirus.”

That seemed to be enough for the…prince. And he turned, his wing shifting to envelope you in a warm embrace against your back and guiding you out of the room.

The heavy doors slammed shut behind you both. And the wings of the prince moved to lazily return to his back. A different type of heat simmered in his gaze when the prince turned to you. A striking difference from the softness he offered you before. “Now, human, you will tell me how you got here. And why you’re…dressed the way you are.” Despite the quizzical tone, Prince Hezirus’ eyes were just as hungry and heavy as Jackal’s when you first got dressed. You instinctively tried to cover yourself but a narrowed glare from the person in front of you made you halt.

Your arms dropped to your sides as you explained everything. But this time, you kept the ‘we’ out of it. Only insinuating that you alone jumped into the very obvious Fae trap.

“But you know our customs,” The prince hummed. Tilting his head like how a dog did when it was intrigued by something. “You won’t give me your name. You even called the circle a trap. So…you knew what it was.”

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. The drunken stupor of a joke was now very obviously a suicide sentence. “I didn’t think it would work.” You argued. “I was…drunk.”

“Superstition has kept your people alive longer than you’d think. You should start listening to your fable stories, there’s a reason they exist.” The prince began walking and you hurried to follow. The tall man, possibly as tall as the beast on the furs, didn’t shorten his strides to let you keep up. Instead, you had to fasten your steps to almost jog alongside him.

“Where am I?” You asked. Finally looking at your surroundings. There were large paintings that covered the towering walls. The ceiling looked like marble with many hanging candles and torches to illuminate what the sun couldn’t. Massive glass windows bathed your walk with the prince in color. But at least this time you could see the shapes of beasts and battles and fields of flowers as you passed them.

It was all very beautiful.

“You’re in the Fae Wilds. My kingdom.” The prince replied. His chin tilted up with pride as he spoke. “I am Prince Hezirus of the Wilds. Son of Queen Melusine, the Lady of the Forest. You’re in my palace in the deepest forest of our kingdom. My…holiday home, I guess you would call it.”

You stalled for a moment to peek through one of the windows. Spying the grounds of the estate that sprawled out in grassy knolls and flowing creeks that sliced through lush gardens and tumbled through the gnarled roots of mountainous trees.

There were people working in the gardens and some walked the earthy paths through the estate. Someone even started flying into the branches of a nearby tree. With wings like an insect.

A soft cough from the prince made you turn. Finding him standing by the cliff of a long stairwell that led down and into the center of the palace. You quickly hurried back to his side and started descending next to him.

“It’s beautiful.” You said. Unable to keep your eyes on one thing at a time. A man walked past you both, bowing deeply to the prince before walking briskly away. His features reminded you of a rat.

“Thank you. But you will have time to see everything soon. I want you to join me for breakfast.” The prince said. And you followed him down a corridor and into a grand hall. A long table was presented before you. Its surface was chock-full of plates and bowls of food. All steaming, like the dishes had just come out of the oven.

At the end of the table sat a beautifully crafted chair of twisted roots and vines. The cushions looked as soft as clouds and a plate of sourdough bread, bathed in eggs and bacon with a drizzle of white sauce, was sitting awaiting the prince.

Hezirus waved his hand and a chair pulled itself from the table next to the prince. And Hezirus gestured for you to sit, before he flicked his hand and the chair pushed you snugly against the table. A plate was placed in front of you by an owl-faced woman and the prince seated himself in his chair.

Leaning his cheek on his fist, propped up by his elbow on the table, he watched you curiously. “Please, eat. Enjoy.”

The smells of everything laid out in front of you was maddening. Your stomach twisted in hunger and the slight hangover that had plagued you with a headache, wished for water. But you didn’t reach for any of it. And watched the prince take his gaze off you just enough to take a bite out of his egg smothered bread slice.

“So now you start to believe in your fables?” The prince asked. An amused smile twitching his lips as he chewed. “I do not need to charm you to keep you here, lovely thing. You may eat freely. This food is not poisoned and untouched by magic. Other than what is needed to prepare certain dishes.”

You still didn’t reach for anything. Not even the water. Which sat chilled in a glass pitcher in front of you. Like it was teasing you. You shook your head. “Thank you. But I’ll skip breakfast.”

The prince’s eyes flashed gold and suddenly you were reaching for the water. You tried with all your might to stop yourself from pouring a glass, but your hands worked just like they did when the shadows had hold of you.

Puppeteered.

Helpless.

You tried to cry out as your fingers brought the glass of water to your lips. But your body defied you. And you sipped cleanly, without choking, a long draught of water down your parched throat. Once you had placed the glass down you felt your body return to your control and you stood. Almost knocking the chair over as you jerked away from the table.

“Like I said, I do not need to charm you to make you stay.” The prince said. As if you had asked about the weather. So casually glossing over what he just did. “Your tales of us are true…in some sense. But we hold more power than we allowed you to believe. Please. Eat. You look like you’re about to pass out. And I won’t tell you again. You won’t like it if I have to do it myself.”

It was true. You could feel the edge of your mind falling into a dizzy spiral. And the thought of you passing out in front of him made the hunger turn to fear. You shook your head, clearing it, and sat down before your legs gave out. And begrudgingly served yourself some pancakes.

And it was the best thing you’ve ever eaten. Whether it was because of hunger, or the Fae chefs, it was delicious. Even the fruit you ate was sweet and juicy. Perfect. Also too perfect.

But if you didn’t eat, you were sure he’d probably force you too. So, you gave in. As much as the logical side of the brain was screaming at you to stop.

The prince’s gaze never left your lips as you ate. His eyes were persistently on you, even as he devoured his own breakfast and poured a cup of something that smelled strongly of coffee.

“Did Jackal explain anything to you before he shoved you into a room with a horny Drake?” The prince asked. An eyebrow raising when you told him of the rules Jackal gave you. And you added on that you were meant to be a treat, as a means of amendment from Jackal.“At least he wanted you to live through the morning. And yes, Jackal made a small mistake last night. Maahes exaggerates, it wasn’t so bad he’d lose his territory. He’s just angry he lost a bet at all. You were lucky I found you before Maahes went too far. I do enjoy it when Maahes is rough with me. But your delicate body would snap apart the moment he pulls down his pants.”

The rush of heat that exploded in your body, crawling up your neck and into your cheeks made the prince chuckle. “That’s adorable. But also very dangerous. Don’t do that around Maahes. If he gets whiff that you’re into things like him, you’ll be chained to his hips and riding his cock until your body breaks.”

You tried to argue. Maybe say something that it wasn’t arousal, but shock at the prince’s choice of words. But the prince shot you a look that silenced your rebuttal before it began. “I can smell it on you, pet. Don’t even try lying to my face. It won’t end well for you.” His words carried a threat that made your skin crawl with a chill. Even if his tone was light and teasing. Something in his gaze had your heart racing.

“What are you going to do to me?” You asked. You wanted to know, so you could at least brace for whatever was about to happen to you. How many books have you read about similar scenarios? You had the hot, sexy men part ticked off. A strange, weird place in the Fae realm, checked. But this wasn’t a romance. You were just left to the mercy of a creature with scales. Given a hint at the power that could make you do anything the man in front of you wanted.

Your life very much was in danger right now.

“Hmm, I’m not sure yet.” The prince said. Leaning back in his chair as he regarded you with a critical eye. Like he was appraising a piece of art. “But I’m sure you’re asking if I’m going to kill you. Eat your bones. Turn you into a…I don’t know. What do we Fae do to humans? It’s been centuries since I’ve talked to one. But you never forget the scent.” The prince breathed in deeply and released it slowly with a long sigh. When his eyes opened, his pupils were blown wide like he was intoxicated.

“Such a delicious fragrance. It used to drive me mad in my youth. The lust. The hunger. Oh, fuck, the sex…” The prince finally looked at you again. As if suddenly remembering you were there and had asked a question. “No, dear pet, I am not going to kill you. Some of my court might try. But I’ve already ordered them that you are to be untouched. Left only for me to squeeze.”

He flashed you a smile that made his already handsome face become even more beautiful. “Anyone that tries to force themselves on you will meet my wrath. You are welcome to wander the palace. I do suggest staying as far away from Maahes as possible. And don’t go into the gardens until-”

“If I may, Hez.” The sudden voice of Jackal made you jump as he appeared by your side. Seeming to appear out of thin air as he joined you at the table. Sitting to your right. “I suggest we keep her caged until the staff and court get used to the scent of her in the estate. Already there has been enough unrest that Maahes has had his fill of Fae blood. She will be safer in the dungeons until you solidify the order for her to remain untouched.”

The prince played with the fabric of his tunic as he thought over Jackal’s words. His eyes following the line of your neck to your shoulders and then to the material that smothered your breasts into a perfect soft mound. “You make a good point, Jackal. However…because it was your trap that brought her here, she is your responsibility.”

Jackal’s jaw twinged as he glanced at you. “Hez, I cannot afford to be distracted from my work. I cannot continuously check on her in the cells-”

“Then have her in your office until you ensure she won’t be touched down there.” The prince smiled. A sense of amusement flashing over his face as he winked at you. “Jackal will take fine care of you until I have time for you, pet. Stay close to him and do what he says.”

A sharp scent ripped through your nose and you winced as your mind latched onto the words the prince spoke. An order. An order given by a Fae prince laced with…magic.

“I don’t think she’s stupid enough to try and run from me.” Jackal said. Sighing heavily as he took a sausage from one of the plates and took a bite from it. “Come on then, Lily. Time to watch me do paperwork for hours on end.”

“Lily?” Hezirus asked as Jackal stood. You felt your body follow suit. But it wasn’t anything like the cold touch of shadows or the constricting power from Hezirus. You wanted to follow Jackal. You were told to do as he said, and damn well you will do it.

“It’s not her name.” Jackal assured the prince. “She’s as lovely as a lily. So, that’s what I’ll call her.”

“Hmm, I don’t think that suits her.” Hezirus said thoughtfully. Tilting his head as he looked you up and down again.

“Well, she’s your pet. You pick a name for her.” Then Jackal smiled viciously and tapped the tip of your nose. “Or are you going to introduce yourself?”

When your glare was the only reply they got, the two men laughed and Jackal clicked his tongue. You followed him like a puppy on a leash, up many staircases and through many corridors. Until you found yourself back in the room you started in. Where the basin had now been emptied of water but the room still smelled of the shampoo in your hair.

“Sit.” Jackal ordered. And your body slumped into a wooden chair by a large desk. One that was covered in many long pieces of parchment and piles of books. A few empty ink pots were put to the side. While a stack of new ones awaited to be used. “You might want to get comfortable. You’re going to be here for a while.”

You looked around. Attempting to get comfortable in the wooden chair next to Jackal’s desk. Much unlike the plush, armchair-like seat he possessed, the wood was hard against your ass and the surface cold to the touch.

A few minutes passed as Jackal opened a few books and arranged them to stand in small holders to keep them open. He arranged paper out in front of him and then opened a thick, leather bound book by his left hand. You tapped your fingernails against the wood of the chair. Already insane from the quiet of the room.

“Can I have a book or something?” You asked. And Jackal scoffed a laugh.

“I doubt I have anything here that you can read. It’s all documents and spellbooks; all in languages you can’t read.” Jackal waited for you to argue. But when you didn’t give a rebuttal about knowing more languages than one, he left it to rest. “If you’d like to pass the time, you’re more than welcome to pass the time on me.” The smile was playful. Menacingly teasing as he smirked at you when your cheeks flushed pink.

“You’re not going to order me to do that?” You asked scornfully. And Jackal shrugged, plucking a quill from its seat in an ink pot and started writing.

“I could. Since Hezirus gave you the order to do whatever I say. Or I could force you to do it with my servants. But it’s not as much fun when the giver uses teeth and tries drawing blood every second.” At the word ‘servants’ the shadows from beneath the desks nearby came alive and crawled over the floor towards you. You pulled your dress away from the curious clawed hands and the room filled with whispered laughter as you gasped in horror.

Jackal tsked and the shadows scattered. Returning to being nothing more than dark spots under the desks. “Now hush, I have to concentrate.”

You must have dozed off somewhere after the third hour mark of sitting and doing nothing. The room was bitterly cold now and you shifted in your seat. Trying to find a comfortable position when a touch of fire brushed over your thigh.

You jerked awake. Startling when you came face to face with Jackal. Who had turned his chair towards you and was sitting almost directly between your legs. Both of his hands were coiled around your right thigh. Molding the cool skin with his fingers so gently that it almost tickled.

“Get your hands-”

“Shush, I’m thinking.” Jackal barked back. And the harshness of his voice froze you in place. Or was it the order to do as he says? You had no idea, but you knew that you were helpless in that chair as he squeezed your leg like he was kneading dough into shape. Scraping his palm along your skin through the velvety material of your dress. You had to lean back as he lifted your calf and draped your leg over his lap. You were left completely open to him in this position. But Jackal didn’t seem to notice.

He never went any higher than your upper thigh. His eyes were distant, staring at your chest but not actually paying attention to the shape of your cleavage. It was just the last place he looked before his thoughts trailed off.

You kept quiet. At least welcoming the warmth from Jackal’s lap and touch over your chilled skin.

Any longer here and you were going to freeze. You’d even welcome the harsh treatment of the hot bath just to warm you up. The dress was useless against the breeze that blew in from the open window. And the sun was beginning to go down.

Shit…have you already been here the entire day? No wonder your back was killing you.

Jackal startled you by humming and dropping your leg from his lap. Non-delicately letting your bare foot slap against the stone and you shuffled back onto the chair. He returned to his desk and started feverishly writing something down.

You stayed silent. Kicking your leg over the other to try and savor some of the tingling warmth from Jackal’s fingers. You hated how tenderly he had touched you. Because your core kind of enjoyed the attention.

The sky outside was pitch black and somewhere in the castle, you heard distant screams. It had started some hours ago and had long since lost its pitch. But the volume was still there. Telling you of the absolute agony that was ripping through someone.

“It’s no one you know.” Jackal assured you. Seeing your worried expression. “Maahes told me that there was a second human that jumped in the trap with you. And so far, I haven’t found them. Even if someone already claimed your friend, there would be traces of her. When a Fae consumes or fucks a human there’s…changes.”

That was at least comforting. But hearing such visceral cries turned your blood cold and nausea twisted in your stomach.

They were cut off rather quickly some hours after nightfall. And you weren’t sure if the silence following it was worse or better.

Jackal leaned back in his chair and stretched. Your eyes caught a glimpse of the toned body beneath the fine black tunic. But you tore your eyes away just as Jackal glanced at you.

“You’ve been rather quiet…Oh, right, I told you to shush. You can talk now. I don’t need to think for a bit.”

“I was going to say to get your hands off me.” You snapped. Suddenly finding an urge to speak now Jackal told you so. “Don’t ever touch me again.”

“But you’re so soft and warm.” Jackal practically purred. His arms hanging over the back of his chair as he stared at you. And this time, he really stared at you. With an intensity that had you looking away and a fresh wave of heat flooding your center. And that little nibble of his bottom lip was an added unfair flare.

“You’re disgusting.” You mumbled.

“I’m sure you'll change your mind eventually.” Jackal chuckled. The molten copper turned sharp once more as he returned them to the desk full of freshly scrawled paper. “If you were literate I’d have you read these so I can rest my eyes. But you’re unfortunately not that useful.”

“I can read.” You hissed and Jackal rolled his eyes. Lowering his arms so they came to rest on the desk.

“Can you read dwarvish?” Jackal asked. Then he clicked his tongue when you huffed a curse at him and turned your head away again. “Like I said, illiterate. Shame…it would have been cute having you sit on my lap while you read this over.”

“Fuck off.”

Jackal laughed and sighed. The breath was heavy as it filled his lungs. “I better get you to your cell before I let your arousal do anymore to me. Get up, little flower. And stay close. Maahes is wandering the halls looking for a chance to drag you under him again. And Hezirus is busy ensuring the court doesn’t devour you through the night. So, I’m all you have keeping you alive until we get you to your cage.”

You stood before your mind could think of doing so. And then you were walking beside Jackal through the palace, a step behind him. “What is stopping Maahes from…getting in my..cage?” It sounded weird to say. And you dearly hoped it wasn’t going to be a cage in the middle of a room like the one you appeared in.

“Hezirus.” Jackal replied, as a matter of factly. “Our prince holds alot of power. And not even a Drake as powerful as Maahes can disobey his orders while in his own home. He’ll try to lure you to his bed chambers, or the floor, I’m sure. But as long as you keep saying ‘no’, you’ll be safe.”

“That’s all that is stopping him from…you know…”

“Words hold more power here than your world, sweet flower. And Hezirus has explicitly ordered your words are the rules to your body. So, be mindful when speaking to anyone here. It might save your life.”

You trailed alongside Jackal as he took you deeper into the palace. Down even more stairs and corridors, until he stopped outside of a steel door. You weren’t stupid. This was a dungeon, deep under the palace. You could smell bile and filth from the other locked rooms. And the air was cold and thick.

But there were no guards here. Only the flickering torches along the walls and the soft, pained whimpering of the other prisoners.

“I had your cell cleaned before I brought you down here.” Jackal said. As if his words made it all better as the door to the cell opened without him touching it. Revealing a cramped, dark room. A cot was pushed into the corner. Merely a wooden pallet with hay stuffed into the crevasses and a thin blanket covering the splintering wood.

The pillow looked thin and splotched with gray marks.

“I’m going to freeze down here.” You said. Pulling at the stretchy material of your outfit. “This is barely going to keep me warm.”

“That’s Hezirus’ problem, not mine.” Jackal replied.

Then a hard cold force slammed into you and you stumbled into the cell. The door creaked shut and you heard a lock click into place. You rushed to the door as Jackal opened the little slit, allowing you to see his copper eyes through the darkness.

“Whenever Hezirus remembers his pet is down here, I’m sure he’ll provide you with all the best luxuries your little human body needs.” Jackal said with a roll of his bright eyes. “I, however, do not have time to babysit you at every minute. So, you’ll sit down here, in the dark, like a good girl until things settle. My servants swarm this place, so you’re safe. Just don’t make too much noise. Or you’ll attract some unwanted attention. Get some sleep, little flower. You’ll need it for tomorrow.”

You beat your fists against the door as the slit slid closed. Calling after Jackal in a colorful array of words and sentences. Some even got an impressed whistle out of the spy-master before you heard his boots disappear.

You retreated from the door when someone screamed from a nearby cell. The whispering laughter of shadows echoed through the darkness in response.

You went to the cot. The wood creaked under your weight as you curled up against the corner of the room. Gathering the thin blanket around you. Ignoring the itchiness from the hay and tried very hard not to think of bugs crawling in your hair or down along your arms.

You tried to stay awake. Something was moving beyond the cell door but it never came any closer. Someone would scream or start crying. Another would start begging. Only to be silenced by a harsh hiss that made your blood run cold.

You curled up tighter and closed your eyes. Hoping the sun would scatter the shadows when it rose.

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

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adrianasunderworld · 6 months

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More Twst x Stardew things

The Royal Sword Corporation opened one of their stores in town years ago. Crowley hates it. He hates the manger, Ambrose, who wants him to sell the community center so they can open another Royal Sword Business in town.

Che'nya works at Royal Sword Mart. Neige actually got his big break from Royal Sword. He got cast in a commercial for it, and it did so well that he's the face of a whole ad campaign now. Vil is angry and jealous because he also auditioned for that role and Neige got picked over him.

Vil still acts and models, but it's on a much smaller scale compared to Neige. Like he gets hired a lot to do ads and commercials for businesses in town, and in all the neighboring towns, to the point he's kind of a local celebrity in the area. He keeps visiting the city to audition for theater, but so far nothing. He ideally would like to move to the city to pursue bigger roles, but it's just not in the cards now.

The witch that turns your eggs into void eggs at night is Malleus grandma. He gets embarrassed, and has tried convincing her to get a different hobby, to no avail.

Fellow and Giddel are event characters. They get hired to work at the county fair during the fall, and sometimes stop by on the Night Market. There's a quest where you can befriend them so they can move into town, and Giddel can join the other kids on their lessons.

Leonas family is very well off. After his father passed while Leona was still a minor, Falena took custody of him, and he still lives with Falena and his wife, Asha. The Kingscholars were successful in their careers and had plenty of money. Like the farmer, they wanted a change of pace from city life and bought a nice inn just outside of town. Falena runs the actual business while Asha still works as a lawyer. Leona is taking online courses while working at the inn. Ruggie also works there and often has to keep Leona on track.

Ace is a carpenter, and was like Robin, the first person in town to greet you and show you to Ramshackle Farm. And like Robin, he also called your grandpa's house crusty. He also has beef with your cat, Grim. Everytime he comes by to work on something, they have a stare off.

Jade is still interested in foraging, and often gives helpful tips, like what is in season and where to find it. His favorite gifts are any mushrooms.

The mermaid who does a show at the Night Market is Rielle.

Ortho, Najma, and Cheka are like the Jas and Vincent in town. They're the local kids you always see running around, along with everyone else's little siblings, like Jack's brother and sister.

Since there's more than two kids in town in this au, there is an actual school house in the area. It's right next to or is connected to the library, and Clara is the local teacher. Trein helps her out by doing the history lessons. Clara will give the older kids their lessons in the morning before doing their more independent study time and class work in the afternoon while she teaches the little ones. Trein usually keeps an eye on the older kids while they work in the library. It's hard though, Lucius keeps demanding their attention when they're supposed to be doing homework.

Ramshackle is still haunted. There's ghost all over the property, and they mostly show up at night. But they will sometime show up indoors, like in the house, sheds, and greenhouse.

If you marry Leona, he will nap in the greenhouse.

If you marry Deuce, he will work on his bike outside.

If you marry Vil, his post marriage heart event is him going away to work after taking a bigger role. Kinda like Elliot going on his book tour.

If you marry Cater, he will post about living on a farm. He will absolutely make vlog type videos going "My day in the life of a stay at home farm husband."

@mangacupcake @marrondrawsalot @writing-heiress @the-weirdos-mind

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vikuo-kuma · 4 months

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Secret Admirer(Requested)

A/N: "Loli complex" - Mash Burnedead

———

The group seems to be hanging around the forest waiting for an assignment to be assigned by the teacher. As they were conversing with each other, a certain (h/c) person walked up to the group. The dark haired boy looked their way.

"Hey there! Your name is Mash, right?", you shouted, while getting closer towards the unique crowd of people.

"Do I know you?", the mushroom head male monotonously asked, with a blank expression on his face. "Mash! That is Y/N L/N, another first year two liner from Adler dorm", Finn replied to Mash's question towards the person, he sounded panicky, not just because Mash sounded disrespectful, but you were a two liner. "You can't go around saying that to people that greet you..", the blue haired boy added on, almost lecturing Mash with a straight face.

"Well I was going to introduce myself, but freckles over already did", a sweat dropped from your face, while struggling it off. "But yeah, I'm Y/N. And I don't mean any harm", you raised your hands to the sky, indicating that you weren't going to use any magic against the group. Finn took a breather, thinking that the (h/c) person wasn't going to hurt his friends. However, Lance looked over towards you suspiciously, he didn't really trust them. "I promise my soul that I mean no harm, I just wanna be friends", speaking with an awkward smile, you didn't really like the feeling of someone glaring you down.

"Ok", Mash answered monotonously without consulting his other friends. "Yay!", you cheered with joy and your hands in the air, Mash, Finn, and Lemon joined in with the cheering. The blue haired male, however, continued looking at the (h/c) person with suspicion.

The group was split up, one group consisted of Mash and some red haired boy, another with Lance, Finn, you and Lemon. They entered the forest looking for the scorpions that the groups are supposed to hunt. Your group was wandering around the woods, looking closely for anything big and purple. Lance wasn't really paying attention, his eyes were looking directly at the (h/c) person, you, who cluelessly walking around the forest area to complete the assignment.

But him not paying attention, led to a large scorpion sneaking up on him. "Lance, Watch out!", Lemon yelled towards her blue haired friend. Before Lance could turn around to meet the large creature's claw, the (h/c) person, he was staring at, appeared instantly in front of him, activating one of your spells.

Ánemos

Sharp gust of wind blew towards the monster with a stone, destroying its shell and body due to the speed of the wind blades. The scorpion died right there, leaving the silver on the ground. "You alright? You look a bit distracted before", turning your head around to meet Lance's gaze. His eyes widened due to the sheer shock of the (h/c) person's speed. "Uh, hello? You in there?", looking at him confused. To say the least, Lance was impressed by your skills.

"Uh, yeah I'm fine", his face returned back expressionless. "Alright then", you picked up the silver piece the scorpion had dropped, before walking past Lance to continue on the search. That was... huh.. He was still recovering from that moment, looking towards the (h/c) person. "Hey! I think I found something!", you wave your hand excitedly towards the group, smiling brightly. A large scorpion pops out of nowhere, scaring Finn and Lemon to death. Oh boy, they attract trouble... Lance's expression looked at them blankly, as Lemon and Finn grabbed onto both of his legs for protection.

——

The sun was already setting, and all of the groups had arrived at the original stop they were in during the afternoon.

Y/N and Lance stood beside each other as the rest conversed with Mash and his new 'rival', Dot. "Thanks", Lance started, while still looking at the rest of his friends. It was quite sudden. "Hm? What for?", you tilted your head slightly to look at Lance. "For saving me from that monster", Lance continued with his gratitude, his face had softened a little. A smile rested upon your lips, as you continued to look at him. "Well that's what friends are for ain't it?", a soft laugh came from the (h/c) person. Lance found himself making full eye contact with you.

The soft orange light from the sun made your skin glow beautifully, making the blue haired male look at you longer than usual. "Is something wrong?", side eyeing Lance's face, the blue hair boy looked away quickly.

"No nothing's wrong"

#mashle magic and muscles #anime #lance crown #lance x reader #fantasy #mashle x reader #anime x reader #x reader #comdey #mashle #shounen

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greywritesthings · 2 days

Text

Afternoon sun

Maxiel x reader

angst -> fluff

warnings - being shut out, panic attack, yelling, injury (unintentionally self inflicted), reader just being traumatised, mention of shitty childhood

A/N - I have such bad writers block rn it is almost crippling, this isn't beta read we die like Charles gear box during the formation lap. Anyway, this was made in a total of like, 3 hours and I'm sleep deprived so lets go.

masterlist

Poly! Drivers

Read on Ao3!

You knew when the boys got home there was going to be tension so high you could probably cut it with a knife but you didn't expect to be entirely shut out by both of them. They walked in just after ten am and without so much as a vague acknowledgement when you stood up from the sofa, ready for a hug or kiss, just a greeting of some kind like normal they walked past and headed to their respective offices, leaving you stood awkwardly stood in the middle of your shared apartment unsure of what to do. So you decide to cook, it's so far been your fool proof method in cheering both your men up no matter the mood they're in. You decide to cook mushroom pesto pasta, something you knew was in both of their diets but also something they both really liked, especially with your homemade pesto and pasta.

After running out to the store to grab the ingredients so you could make everything you stand quietly for a moment, listening to try and hear what the men were doing in their rooms. You figured out that Max was sim racing and Danny was probably napping or just relaxing, he left his laptop in his backpack by the door so he couldn't have been working. You knew that much.

You were nearly done with the meal, just needing to fill the glasses when you slipped on some water that had dripped from the pasta strainer, causing the glasses to crash to the floor, shattering on impact. You froze like a deer in headlights, despite the glasses not being anything special, in fact you were pretty sure they were glasses from night clubs in Monaco or pubs in england. You don't even register Max entering the room as you crouch and start picking up the shards of glass, uncaring for how the pieces cut through your skin. “Seriously Y/n!? How much of a clutz are you?” Max begins yelling as Danny rounds the corner into the kitchen.

He pushes Max back towards the living room, “Max! Calm down! It's not like she did it intentionally! ” He keeps his hand on Max’s chest as he looks towards you and the damage in the kitchen before turning to Max again. “Stay here or go back to your room if you're just going to yell at her for cooking food for us because we came home in a bad mood, Jesus christ.” Danny practically growels at him, removing the hand from his chest Danny makes his way over to you.

Your hyper fixated on clearing up the last of the glass shards so you didn't notice Danny walking up to you. Your mind was somewhere between childhood memories of your parents yelling at you and Max's words echoing in your head. You flinch back from Danny's touch, just about catching yourself again on the floor but instead of letting go of the glass in your hand you hold onto it tighter, causing it to cut deeper into your hand. “Hey hey angel, it's only me.” If you were looking you would have seen the flash of hurt cross through his face and the look of regret across max’s.

“Sorry Danny, I didn't mean to make this mess.” You practically whisper to him, refusing to make eye contact, or move at all really, seemingly frozen in place waiting for something. It breaks both of their hearts. Max moves first, towards the door, pulling on shoes and grabbing his wallet. He sends a text to Danny. I'm going to get her snacks & favourite lunch and to pick up Jimmy and Sassy. “Back soon schatje Love you.” He calls from the front door before closing it softly. He wants to apologise but he knows right now it wouldn't help and would fall on deaf ears so he leaves to get things he at least knows will help a little.

“Honey you have to let go of the glass, it's okay, no one is angry at you, I promise.” Danny tries to coax you into dropping the glass that's now making your hand bleed visibly. You don't flinch when he reaches for you this time so he takes the opportunity to pull you away from the glass patch on the floor. Once he has you far enough away he takes your hand and slowly pulls it open so you let go of the glass. “Oh darling, I’m gonna have to bandage this okay? Come on, I'll carry you hm?” he suggests and when you don't flinch away he takes it as a go ahead.

He carries you to the bathroom and sets you next to the sink, giving you a smile when he does. “This is going to hurt like a bitch okay?” he says as he uses tweezers to take out the remaining glass, then follows it up with an alcohol pad as you whine, letting your head fall into his shoulder. “No biting, I know what you're like.” He tries to sound stern but it fails as you lightly start to nibble on his neck with a smile. He finishes cleaning your hand and starts to bandage it.

“I’m back! With the cats! And food!” Max calls out as he enters the apartment again. Your hand was now freshly bandaged and the kitchen cleaned, Danny opting to throw the now cold and hardened pasta away, with a promise that you will make it together another day.

“Max! Hi honeys, or well, bye honeys, I'll see you at dinner time.” You greet the cats who had promptly ran off to their respective hiding spots as they usually did after going to the cat sitters. You turn to max with Danny coming up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“I'm sorry Schat, I should never have yelled at you about a dumb glass because I was upset over a dumb race. I'm so sorry” He nearly cries but you just shake your head.

“It's okay, I mean, no it's not but yes it is, you know you shouldn't yell so i'm not going to punish you any more for it, I think you’ve done enough of that yourself honey.” You separate from Danny and go to hug Max, tucking his head into your shoulder. “I'm hungry, I don't know about you two but I haven't eaten all day so gimme the food you.” You say as you reach for the bag by max’s feet containing various snacks and a box containing food from your favourite take out spot.

A while later you settled on the couch, laying in between Danny's legs, head resting on his chest while Max was in the same position but on top of you. Criminal minds playing on the TV. Eventually Danny begins to play with your hair, leading you to do the same with Max and eventually the three of you fell asleep together, content in the afternoon sun, the fight long forgotten about, the only reminder being the thick bandage residing on your hand.

#greyswritings #maxiel #maxiel fic #maxiel x reader #maxiel fluff #daniel riccardo fanfic #daniel riccardo x reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #daniel riccardo imagine #max verstappen imagine #daniel ricciardo fluff #max verstappen fluff

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pianokantzart · 8 months

Text

The Line of Fire

Luigi seems to be the only one who notices that the "Mario" wandering around The Mushroom Kingdom isn't really Mario. To make things worse, whoever the imposter is seems fully aware of Luigi's position, and is intent on doing whatever is necessary to threaten him into silence.

Another work based on the body swap concept from @elitadream. It has a firm grip on my brain and won't let go. Take care to check the tags for trigger warnings!

Word Count: 4307

Also available on Ao3: X

____________

It was late in the afternoon when Luigi finally made it home. He tried to look natural as he walked up the front steps of his little cottage on the outskirts of town, carrying a large bag of groceries in each arm, squeezing them tightly to himself every time his sensitive nerves picked up in the slightest little rustle of the grass or shadow cast by the clouds overhead. Glancing nervously over each shoulder he stepped to the front door, then– like a nervous animal– rushed across the threshold and kicked the door shut behind him.

In the familiar confines of his house, he felt no safer. He hurried into the kitchen and tried to ease himself with his usual tasks of putting away groceries and sweeping the floors, but it was no good. Whenever he successfully buried his fear, an equally powerful sense of guilt took its place. Here he was, going about his business like usual, as though his brother’s location and well-being weren’t a morbid mystery. Like something cruel and terrible hadn’t stolen him away and taken his place… Luigi set the broom aside and rubbed his temples, trying to think of what more he could do that he had not already done. What attempt he could make that wouldn’t jeopardize innocent lives? It was crucial to tread carefully, but it didn’t help that he barely even understood what was going on in the first place.

This thing that had taken his brother’s place… the “Not-Mario” he had come to call it… was, from what he could tell, a near-perfect imitation of his brother in appearance and abilities. Luigi had a few theories: some sort of shapeshifter, a facsimile created from magic, or something had stolen Mario’s body directly, and was now puppeting it for their own devices. He suspected the latter and was half-certain of the culprit. There was a startling familiarity to that hellish glint in what used to be his brother’s eyes, but he didn’t dare yet call the thing masquerading as Mario “Bowser.” It felt far too early to make assumptions. He only knew a few things for certain: Mario was in terrible trouble, there was something pretending to be Mario, the Not-Mario knew that he knew the truth, and nobody else seemed to see through the ruse. The doppelganger had assured him that the real Mario was still alive. It was implied in equal measure that Mario’s survival would be determined by whether or not the truth got out. He also threatened Princess Peach, the neighboring toads, and everyone else he could use as leverage, knowing Luigi had no desire to test whether or not he was bluffing.

Uncertainty and doubt knotted Luigi’s heart, endless questions eating away at him when he was steadily pulled from his thoughts by a spot of red appearing in the corner of his eye.

He turned and let out a yelp of surprise. There stood Mario’s body, void of Mario’s spirit, leaning against the doorway of their kitchen, glaring at him with those strange eyes. When did he come in? How long had he been in here? Why had he come here?

Throughout this entire ordeal, one of the few kindnesses Not-Mario had granted him was staying away from their home. This was a selfish comfort, of course, “Mario”’s absence merely meant that he was too busy doing who-knows-what elsewhere. Luigi nervously reexamined his brother’s face, hoping to find some faint glimmer of the man he’d grown up with, but if anything it had only gotten stranger since he had last seen it… sunken and tired, like he hadn’t slept at all.

Before Luigi could ask, Mario’s voice interrupted with a simple command: “Living room. Now.” “What?… Why can’t we talk here?” Not-Mario gave no response, he simply walked off, leaving Luigi feeling stupid for so much as posing the question. Of course not. Where they talked was not the point, the point was establishing at every opportunity who was in control.

Luigi anxiously stepped into the living room, and at once found himself being approached aggressively by his brother’s body, boxing him toward the back of the room where a couch and an easy chair sat in a small half-circle around a television set. “Where were you today?” Not-Mario Growled. Luigi braced himself against the arm of the couch. “I went to the marketplace. You know, to get groceries?” Not-Mario was unswayed. “Where else?”

Luigi gripped his arm and averted his eyes. No way. He was certain he’d been careful. He’d made sure he wasn’t followed. He knew the toad he handed the letter to, made him promise to keep it a secret. He’d done everything right! “N-nowhere else! I mean, I did take a little walk before making my way home.” “A walk? Did your little detour happen to bring you near Peach’s castle?” Luigi felt his heart drop as Not-Mario pulled a familiar envelope from his overall pocket. He held it up and stared daggers; a taunting, hateful grin spreading across his face. “It’s embarrassing, really. Don’t you know the palace guards have better things to do than deliver your mail for you?…”

On impulse, Luigi lept to snatch the envelope, but his opponent proved too quick, immediately catching him by the shirt collar and thrusting him backward, sending him toppling over into his old recliner with such force that he could feel the chair springs snap under him. “Sit down .” The demand was sharp and booming, the undercurrent of rage Not-Mario had carried with him since he first appeared bubbling to the surface. Luigi stayed seated, watching with held breath and a pounding heart as the thing with his brother's face tore open the sealed envelope, and read aloud the letter enclosed:

“Princess Peach, I hope this letter finds you well. I would like nothing more than to explain the situation in person, but I am in no position to do so without endangering your safety. Be wary of Mario, he is not who he seems to be. Keep one eye open at all times, and take care you aren’t left alone under any circumstances. I will do my best to find out what’s happening. I’ll contact you again once I have a better grasp of what to do. Until then, for the sake of The Mushroom Kingdom, remain vigilant.

Dutifully yours, – Luigi”

As he finished reading the letter, he turned his focus to the author, gauging his response. Luigi stayed where he was, putting on a poor performance of remaining calm as sweat trickled down his face and his chest pounded.

Not-Mario sighed and tucked the letter back into the envelope.

“You should be thankful this never made it into Peach’s hands. The moment she starts getting suspicious, I’ll have to start taking drastic measures.”

“H-how did you get that?” Luigi finally managed, clutching his knees in an attempt to hide the way his hands shook.

“You gambled the lives of your loved ones so you can play ‘hero,’ and you think you’re in a position to ask questions?”

With a flick of the wrist, the man in red ignited firebrand and rendered the envelope to ashes. Luigi watched the pieces scatter across the living room, catching one of them in his hands as though a part of him hoped his failed attempt to find help could be somehow pieced back together. “You know,” Mario’s voice continued, “there’s a rumor that you’re in the middle of some sort of nervous breakdown. Though I suppose it was only a matter of time… you aren’t exactly known for your mental fortitude, and your recent head injury hasn’t helped things either.”

“Head injury?” Luigi barely managed the question when saw Mario’s form rushing toward him, hardly giving him time to even register what was happening before a gloved hand gripped his face with enough force to rattle his teeth, tore him from his seat, and threw him across the room with unprecedented power. Luigi’s body crashed like a rag doll into the TV set, his back bruising on the edge of the console, his skull shattering the screen. He lay there for a moment on the heap of cracked wood and glass, struggling to lift himself up, the world spinning around him as his vision turned white with pain. A laugh filled the air, such a horrible laugh, clashing with a voice of warm familiarity to create something grotesque and alien. “Nobody in this kingdom believes in you. Your only redeeming quality is that you live under the same roof as I do.” It sneered. “Tell me, do you ever wonder how often Mario took solace in your little neighbors? Finally able to speak plainly about how hard it is being followed around by his quivering imbecile of a brother?” Luigi didn’t answer. His sibling’s stolen voice was laced with poison, but he refused to swallow. He owed Mario at least that small dignity. The voice prattled on. “We seem to be on pretty cozy terms… I’ve apparently earned their unwavering faith. That is not something I intend to squander.” These words made Luigi’s blood run cold. He scrambled to a standing position despite the pain that still rattled his skull. Seeing Mario’s body walking toward the exit, he called out. “What are you going to do?” The question was ignored, and all at once Luigi felt more terrified of seeing the imposter leave than he was of his presence. If this was Bowser, as he suspected, surely a minor concussion wouldn’t be the only consequence of his attempt to seek help. What of the toad guard he had given the letter to? What of the princess herself? What about The Mushroom Kingdom, too safe and cozy to even install locks on their doors? blissfully unaware of the monster that wandered amongst them?

“Wait!” Luigi called again, taking a few stumbling steps after the body of his brother. “I need to know you won’t hurt anyone!”

At this, Not-Mario stopped just short of gripping the handle and turned to Luigi with his brows raised. “First you demand answers, now you want me to make promises?”

“Yes! Swear you won’t hurt anyone. Otherwise, I’ll… I’ll…” Luigi stumbled over his words. He wrung his hands and swallowed a lump in his throat, gathering together what little courage he could scrounge from the growing pit in his stomach. What would Mario do? What would Mario do? Pull yourself together, do what Mario would do! He released a heavy breath as he sank into a fighting stance, a crackle of electricity rolling along the fingers of his gloves, the hair beneath his cap fluttering with static. “... I’ll… I’ll make sure you don’t hurt anyone.”

It was a wild gambit, but all he wished to do was relay a message. Yes, he was weak, yes, he was terrified, but he was just strong enough and brave enough to get in the way. There was still one hero left in The Mushroom Kingdom, and whoever this imposter was, he couldn’t just wander around and do whatever he wished.

This time, Luigi was prepared when Not-Mario rushed at him, and he met the attack with a blast of bright blue electricity.

He had no intention of causing serious damage– if this was his brother’s body, he was going to need it back in the best condition possible– but he did hope to incapacitate him. If luck was on his side, perhaps he could get enough of an upper hand to restrain him. Then what? He didn’t know if any of the toads would believe him, but perhaps if he could just get Princess Peach to see the imposter– ask him questions, look into his eyes, confirm for the sake of everyone that he wasn’t Mario– they could figure out a plan to get the real Mario back! Mario’s body seized up under the shock but didn’t fall, and though the muscles of his face stiffened his expression showed no hint of pain. Barely perturbed, he barreled into Luigi with full force, knocking him flat on his back. Before Luigi could recover he felt the full weight of the man bearing down on top of him, and two large powerful hands wrapped tightly around his throat. Mario was strong, stronger than Luigi remembered, which was certainly saying something. Luigi knew his brother always held back whenever they sparred– fun, playful fights meant to do nothing more than hone their skills– but the strength he possessed now almost didn’t make sense. It felt more akin to the motions of an unwavering machine than that of a man. It pushed forward with reckless abandon, shrugging off Luigi’s struggles and blows with the resilience of a brick wall. Gasping for air, Luigi sent another charge into Mario’s body, feeling the current surge through his arms back into his own throat, and yet these efforts only seemed to tighten the grip around his windpipe. As the seconds ticked on with agonizing slowness, his struggles became more mindless and desperate as his mind clouded, his vision darkening, the electricity flashing from his hands fading into faint sparks as the adrenaline of battle turned into an animalistic fight for consciousness.

He didn’t want to die here. Luigi was not ignorant of his own mortality, but he wanted to go out in a way that would’ve made Mario proud. If he had only successfully delivered the letter, had alerted the citizens of what was happening… even just put up enough of a fight to put the doppelganger in his place… he wanted to have gone down doing something– anything of use. He’d failed at every turn, and now he was going to die, strangled to death by the very hands that carried him when he was injured, held him close when he was scared, and dragged him repeatedly out of the jaws of danger. Luigi’s last coherent thought was a prayer that Mario would be okay, before every sensation thinned out into nothingness, and the whole world turned black.

“Well, that was a waste of my time .”

Bowser let out a tired huff as he looked down at the unconscious body of his enemy’s brother. Luigi lay perfectly still, save for the slight rise and fall of his chest, his bruised throat making a slight wheezing sound with every inhale and exhale. Satisfied that his opponent was down for the count, Bowser took the time to examine the damage that had been done to his own body. Pulling up his sleeves he found red burns, shaped like tree branches, stretching along his forearms up to his shoulders. Bowser flexed his limbs, confirming they worked the same as usual, though he knew they would likely hurt a great deal if he was in a position to feel pain. He was thankful the markings didn’t extend any further than they did. So long as he wore his usual long-sleeved shirt, nobody would see the injuries or ask questions. He rolled his sleeves back up and knelt beside Luigi, paying especially close attention to the darkening marks appearing along his throat. He felt a powerful urge to once again wrap his hands around that scrawny little neck and finish the job, not because of the threat he posed, or the insolence he had displayed, but the idea of delivering the corpse to the real Mario… seeing the look on his face… was just too delicious not to revel in. But no, right now the threat Luigi posed to his plans did not compare with the suspicion it’d elicit if he disappeared. Despite Bowser’s claims, the surrounding Toads were already inquiring about Luigi’s absence and well-being. Just today, a wrinkled old codger named Enoki approached him to ask whether Luigi would be able to play cards with him that weekend. Bowser had done his best to imitate Mario’s intonations when he explained Luigi was “not feeling well” with feigned concern, so forced he felt on the verge of biting off his own tongue. Thankfully, Enoki bought the claim wholeheartedly, and even gave him a bag of loose-leaf tea to take home “for his brother's nerves.” Bowser accepted with a feigned thankfulness and threw the gift into the nearest garbage once he was out of the old man’s line of sight.

At length, Luigi’s eyes fluttered open. Seeing his brother’s form standing over him, his gaze widened. He shuddered under a fresh wave of fear, and little bolts of electricity sparked across his skin. Bowser huffed. “I suppose you’re wondering why you’re not dead?” Luigi didn’t speak. He clutched his throat with one hand and tried to push himself upright with the other, head lowered and eyes shut in apparent expectation of another attack.

“Don’t be so paranoid,” Bowser continued “You’d be far more of an inconvenience dead than alive. A nobody creates far less stir than the corpse of a nobody. But you did just try to attack me. What do you think I should do about that?”

Again, Luigi said nothing. While Bowser had initially enjoyed his fear-stricken silence, it began to feel more like defiance than submission. Seeing the plumber attempt to get to his feet, Bowser knocked the hat from his head with a sharp kick to the back of his skull and grabbed a fistful of hair. Forgetting his own shortness of stature, Bowser tried to lift Luigi all the way off the ground by his scalp. When all he could manage was to drag him halfway to his knees, he chose instead to twist his head at a purposefully painful angle.

“Answer me.” Luigi winced. His lip quivered as though he was trying to say something, but all that he managed was a pathetic squeak. Bowser leaned in closer to his “brother,” his lips unsettlingly close to his ear as he asked in a low growl: “Maybe if you’re so intent on imitating your sibling, I should bring you a little piece of him for inspiration? A few fingers, perhaps? Or better yet, one of his eyes…” This was a bluff, of course. The real Mario was imprisoned deep within The Darklands, chained up inside the hulking body Bowser used to inhabit. Though the thought of carrying out the threat was tantalizing, there could come a point where he’d need his old body back, and if Mario felt as disconnected from that body as he felt in this one, then mutilating him would be a waste. But Luigi didn’t know that. That was made clear by his reaction.

“No!” A hoarse plea finally burst from the man’s mouth. He clasped the hand that gripped his hair to ease the pain but didn’t dare struggle beyond that. “Please don’t! I’m sorry.”

Bowser tugged Luigi’s head back to better examine his face. Tears were already forming in his eyes, pouring down his cheeks. Disgusting. He’d forgotten this one was a cryer. It was easy to forget, for he had never known anyone of worth who cried. Junior was an exception, of course, but he was a still child– new to the world and his own emotions. Luigi was a grown man, a hero, allegedly, and yet he whimpered and sniffled as though it would garner any sort of pity. “You’re what?” Bowser growled. “Say that again.” “I’m sor-”

Bowser interrupted the second attempt at an apology by slamming his knee into Luigi’s stomach. He released him then, allowing him to crumble back to the floor at his feet. “Huh, I didn’t quite hear that. Say it again.”

Luigi’s whole body shivered, trying its best to cling to consciousness in its renewed struggle for air. “I’m… s-sorry.”

“Again. Louder.”

“I’m sorry!” Luigi’s voice steadily rose in pitch and volume as his breath returned to him, the tears in his throat and the bruises on his windpipe cracking his speech. “I’m sorry!”

The shrieky tone elicited a chuckle of genuine amusement from Bowser. After the stress of masquerading in his hated enemy's body for so long, seeing someone regard him with the fear and deference he deserved was a long-awaited bit of gratification. Taking advantage of the situation, Bowser made a little game of seeing how many times he could elicit an apology, and, of course, a crucial element of the fun was seeing to it Luigi stayed on the floor at his feet. Whenever the plumber tried to stand or crawl away, a sharp kick to the ribs or a stomp planted into the square of his back would send him back down to the ground.

But by “I’m sorry” number fifty-eight, Bowser grew bored.

So, with confident idleness, he abandoned Luigi in order to look around his nemesis’ home in search of fresh inspiration for what was to be done. Funny as the groveling was, there was a chance Luigi’s change of behavior wouldn’t last long. He didn’t trust him not to delude himself into attempting another “heroic” stunt once left to his own devices. It was crucial to get the message through. It didn’t take long for Bowser to find the staircase. The upper story was a bigger disappointment than the lower one, made up of only a shared bedroom and a bathroom, connected by a narrow hallway. Their cottage as a whole was far too small and simple for his liking, even when he was as physically diminutive as Mario. After all he had done for The Mushroom Kingdom, he should’ve at least been granted a small castle of his own.

Bowser entered the bedroom and looked around, wondering if there was anything there of value or information to be gleaned. No good, everything was trivial: comics and fantasy novels on the shelf, posters for small local bands hanging on the wall, multiple pairs of the same stupid overalls hanging in the closet. Atop the little table between matching red and green beds, there were a number of paper crafts. They were shoddily made… no doubt gifts by the local children. In a moment of impulse, Bowser ignited firebrand and released a little red flame to crawl across the corner of one of the paper stars. Finding a strange comfort in the sight, he allowed the fire to steadily spread to the other origami structures, and when its light began to fade he reinvigorated it with the flick of his hand. He ignited two more fires for good measure, one on the corner of Mario’s bed, another on the corner of Luigi’s, where the flames eagerly climbed up the downy quilts, swallowing the vibrant colors and filling the air with smoke.

He neither noticed nor cared when Luigi raced up the stairs. By the time the man in green had arrived, the fire had spread to the walls and the carpet, the rising flames painting little black spots on the ceiling.

“Looks like I was a little careless.” Bowser shrugged, watching the room burn with perfect calmness, “you may want to do something about this if you want to save your house.” Once Luigi overcame the paralysis of horror and disbelief, he disappeared back down the stairs. He was only gone for a few moments before he returned, armed with a fire extinguisher. Bowser stepped aside, allowing him to dive into the room and spray it down with a thick layer of white foam. When the smoke cleared and the heat died down, Bowser got a better look at his handiwork. The framework of the house still stood strong, but there was not a thing in the bedroom that the fire hadn’t marred, the vibrant reds and greens dulled and charred from the blaze, every furnishing and appurtenance disfigured. In the middle of it all was Luigi, holding the now empty fire extinguisher. He was making a valiant attempt to hide that he was crying again, harder than before, wiping at his face with his sleeve, airborne ash mingling with his tears, streaking his cheeks with soot. Bowser rolled his eyes. “I suppose you’d better get to work fixing this. Given your mental state, a project this big should help you occupy your troubled mind.” He nudged Luigi’s shoulder with a mocking friendliness, reveling in the way he tensed beneath his hand. “It’s probably best that you stay at home, anyway. And you will be staying home from now on, right?”

Luigi’s arms tightened around the fire extinguisher. Bowser readied himself, just in case the plumber suffered another flash of impulsive bravery and tried to swing it at him. But Luigi pulled no such stunt… he simply lowered his head and nodded.

Satisfied, Bowser left without another word. Heading down the stairs and crossing through the shattered remains of the living room, he shut the door firmly behind him before he hurried down the steps of “his” home, and headed back down the road toward the glimmering pink castle in the distance.

The first order of business would be to go into town and make sure whatever toads had seen the smoke were reassured that everything was under control; that the fire didn’t do much damage, and was “more smoke than flames.” Then, he would meet with the squadron of Koopas he had successfully snuck behind the palace walls. After exchanging intel, he would select a few to watch the outside of Mario’s house and ensure Luigi honored the agreement.

Halfway back to his destination, Bowser rolled up his sleeves slightly to reexamine the electric burns on his arms. He frowned, wondering if he had been too lenient. Luigi was no Mario, but the fact that he tried defying him at all was worthy of concern. Bowser decided then that at the next hint of insolence, the very slightest sign of defiance, Luigi would officially no longer be worth the trouble of keeping around.

In the meantime, however, he was at the very least entertaining.

#Super Mario Brothers #Bowser #Luigi #Strangulation TW #My Writing #tw: strangulation #tw: abuse #tw: violence #again... not my au. Not my rules. Just my two cents on how the situation could go down

162 notes · View notes

bun-lapin · 6 months

Text

TWST Voice Line Scene #7

🦐Yuu: (looking through a spell book with Grim) Do you see any that you think you can do?

🐱Grim: (flips a page) Hmmm… "Speedy Mushroom Growth"? Why would anyone want a spell like-

🐬Jade: (pops out of a nearby bush) Good afternoon, Yuu-san and Grim-san.

🐱Grim: MYAAH~!?

🦐Yuu: Jade! What were you doing in that bush??

🐬Jade: I was studying the formation of mushroom primordia when I overhead you discussing a very interesting sounding spell.

🐬Jade: (looks over Yuu's shoulder and reads the spell) Ah yes! A spell utilizing bursts of lightning to stimulate mushroom growth!

🐬Jade: (takes out his pen) The magic they have here on land is fascinating. I'd like to try my hand at it.

🦐Yuu: Uhh… Did you just say "lightning"?

🐬Jade: (smiling while sparks of electricity starts to surround him) I wonder if I can grow this mushroom to the size of a house…

🦐Yuu: (picks up Grim and starts sprinting)

TWST Voice Line Scenes Masterlist

#Happy birthday to my favorite mushroom otaku~! <3 #twisted wonderland #twst #twst imagines #twst voice line scene #twst incorrect quotes #jade leech #twst grim #twst yuu #gn!mc #bun-lapin écrit

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attapullman · 4 months

Text

whodunit? / one

Summary: the one where everyone annoys bradley and we might have a suspect?

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+ only! f!reader, food and alcohol mentions, swearing, 80s inaccuracies, police inaccuracies, bank inaccuracies, I was born in the 90s i'm so sorry

mo's note: our favourite hometown sleuths are back! thank you to everyone who came into my messages and walked through the massive rewrites i did for this chapter. also how do we feel about bob wearing leather bracelets? lmk

prologue / one / two / whodunit? masterlist

“Did you really have to bring them along?” Lieutenant Bradshaw (or Lieutenant Mustache as many of the patrol officers - and yourself - fondly called him) rolled his eyes before spearing the men beside you with another glare.

“Eat my shorts,” Fanboy muttered under his breath, scuffing his Reebok Pumps against the government-issued linoleum. Bradley was a bit older, and didn’t grow up here. While you and he got along when your dad invited him over for the occasional dinner, he had nothing but disdain for the amateur crime solvers he annoyingly had to deal with when cases weren’t open-and-shut.

Or when you requested their help. Bradley was still annoyed with you. The police had this handled.

The muttered insults and eye rolls had been shooting back and forth since you walked the several blocks from the bank to the police station. Your father had offered you in a ride in his cruiser, but is there anything more embarrassing? Besides, that short walk had provided you plenty of time to catch up your childhood friends on what all had happened that afternoon.

You left work early on Friday to attend the city’s fundraiser to restore the old movie theater off the town square. About as fancy as the town got, members of neighboring towns joining in on the festivities. You had changed in the employee bathrooms and went on your way, meeting up with your parents and then some friends. Which had quickly turned into ditching the stuffy money raising event for the bar and then beers on a friends back patio. And then you spent most of Saturday hungover on your parent’s couch - their converted garage was very cost efficient - before remembering today that your paycheck was still in your locker on your way to get mushroom soup for dinner. You had your eye on the new The Kinks album, and the record store was on the way home.

But once you entered the bank - your key turning in the lock and the metal shutters lifting - the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. Something was whack. Sure enough, the large metal vault behind the teller stations was slightly ajar and all the money deposited the day before from the fundraiser (to be picked up by a carrier since the town vault was too small for such a big deposit) had disappeared into thin air - a lone Andrew Jackson against the linoleum.

Where had $150,000 gone?

It was a small town. Something you lamented about often - the closest roller-skate rink was miles away - and the technology wouldn’t catch up for another decade. The bank still utilized practices from when your dad was in high school. It was a miracle a robbery hadn’t taken place since your grandmother’s generation. But wasn’t that Malibu Ken on security supposed to keep that ancient vault safe?

Your temples are starting to itch from rubbing them, trying to massage the stress from your brain. Your one The Kinks album short, dinner is ruined, and your Sunday veg out has now turned into wanting to rip the mustache off Bradley’s face if he asks you to recount exactly what you saw one more time.

As he often does, it’s Bob’s soothing voice that softens the tension. “Instead of pointing fingers at your Captain’s daughter, let’s think about who had access to the vault. Who else has a key?”

Thank god for the voice of reason.

Twenty minutes later there’s a short list of bank employees gathered and Fanboy is asking how well you know everyone. Bradley shoots another death glare. He is the one asking the questions.With one hand on the lieutenant’s arm, you go over everyone.

Julie is extremely pregnant and it would be a miracle to pull off something like this. Devon is far too dumb to even think to rob a bank (last week he asked you how to open his cash drawer - he’s worked there two years). Barb and Kevin are out of the question, from across the room where they talk to a deputy they seem distraught beyond reason. Your managers are some of the best people you know. And Jake on security…surely someone is already got him in for questioning. That really only leaves -

“Has anyone talked to Richard?”

All three men look at you bewildered. “Who’s Richard?”

You scoff. For being the only person without any sort of mystery solving under your belt in present company, you seem to be the only one who knows everyone in this town. “Richard Ito?” Blank stares. “The senior teller? He’s literally worked at the bank since the 50’s or somethin’ like that.”

While the three men sputter with various excuses, your dad walks in. He comes over and ruffles your hair, saying he’s already called your mother and explained the situation. Great. Bradley sits a little straighter, while Fanboy and Bob slouch a little more just to irritate Bradley that little bit further. It works. You can barely stifle your giggle. You’ve missed them.

“How’s it going over here?” The police captain’s eyes roam over the various notes strewn over Bradley’s desk. Bold lettering of $150,000 catching his eye. This was so bad. Your group catches him up, various details from the past hour together, your dad’s mustache twitching every time he frowns. Nothing this big has happened since he was a deputy. Or ever.

“Fuck.” The one word perfectly expresses the situation.

Your dad pulls a chair over from another desk and sits beside you, putting distance between you and the thriving hub of testosterone you’ve spent your afternoon with. Protective on the job and off.

“I met with that security guard…Jake?” Seresin, you quietly remind him. “Yeah, yeah, him. Absolutely no help. It was there this morning when he did his rounds at 7, but he’s short a guy and was training the replacement most of the day on the opposite side of the building.”

“Cameras?” Bob chimes in.

The captain gives him a withering look. “They haven’t been replaced since you were in diapers. The last one with any good quality cut out last week. Repair guy is a week out.”

A collective groan. Your dad’s frustration is palpable. He’s the captain, it’s his job to keep the town safe, but also to reassure the townsfolk that he will ensure justice. And with little to no evidence and the money the town has been raising for the past year completely gone, a wildfire of gossip will engulf the town in no time and no one will feel secure.

“Captain, don’t worry, I’ll get all our best guys to interview the rest of the bank employees, maybe some of the nearby businesses, and we’ll have this solved in no time,” Lieutenant Bradshaw reassures his superior officer, straightening up his notes and motioning to one of the patrol officers to take his list of suspects.

Fanboy eyes up the tall, broad officer, measuring up the way his wavy auburn hair catches the florescent lights. Oh fuck, he’s getting to the diner to interview Danielle before this guy.

Already halfway out of his seat, Bob grabs onto Fanboy’s bicep to stop him from sprinting to the diner. The curly-haired sleuth gives him a glare, annoyed that he is that transparent. But really Bob just wants to sit with his high school crush a little longer.

Your dad gives a quick glance at the list, giving the final order for his squadron to head out, when he frowns.

“Honey, Richard isn’t on this list. Did he quit?” You shake your head awkwardly. “Given what happened, we should talk to him.” He scribbles a name and hands the list back to his officer, pushing back his chair to join them for questioning. He presses a kiss to your hair and promises to be home before the nightly news.

Three pairs of eyes bore into you. “You want to fill us in, honey?”

You fiddle with the knee of your Levi’s 501s, suddenly aware of the small hole forming. While you pointed a finger at him earlier, having to explain the Richard sitch to anyone sucks.

Richard was in his late fifties, a graying, miserable man with such a chip on his shoulder that you were surprised he didn’t stoop more. Growing up he would deposit your hard earned lemonade stand money into your meager account, a scowl always on his face. You were honestly surprised returning from school and he was still there. The most tenured employee and still just a senior teller.

It wasn’t your fault Barb and Kevin chose you over him for the assistant manager position. You went to school for business with a background in finance; you worked as a teller to get yourself through school. You were bubbly and pleasant with the customers. As Barb had put it, “It would be stupid not to choose you.”

Richard did not have the same sentiment. After thirty years of service, he gets passed up by a grown child? You flinch thinking about the hateful glance he’s given you for the past ten months. His resentment flowed off him in waves, stinking up the small bank lobby. He tried to soothe his anger with gambling, and now was dangerously close to foreclosing on his home. A fact you unfortunately know after hearing him plead with Kevin for a loan while looking for more deposit slips.

If you were a detective you’d put Richard at the top of your suspect list. Not sure how he’d get into the bank without a key, but motive and access were there.

Bradley seems to think the same, and is already out of his seat, grabbing his cruiser keys and sprinting after your father to question this Richard guy first. Surely this must be the culprit. “Gotta bounce, gang!” The sleuthing duo to your right giggle and you hear mutterings of teacher’s pet under their breath.

“Well boys, if Bradley’s out there catching criminals, what are you doing?”

It’s your bluntness that they’ve always liked. Raised by a police captain, it’s no nonsense and straight to the point. But despite their respect for your mannerisms, cheeks turn pink and they scramble to prove their worth. If the police were interviewing witnesses, how were they going to get their payday?

Amused by the blundering men in front of you, you try to think of something other to do than go home and deal with your fretting mother, a can of mushroom soup short. You didn’t even grab your paycheck. Was it too early to go to the one bar in town and drown your sorrows?

Before you can justify drinking before dinner and someone ratting you out, the door to the precinct slams open and an air of pomposity drowns the room. Oh goodie, Vaughn Carmichael. He’s worse than Malibu Ken.

Slicked back greying hair and a face that only a mother could love, the city manager was annoyingly one of your father’s closest confidants when it came to town business. You weren’t sure how your strait-laced father could stand being in a room with a man who believes he built Rome in a day. He manages a township of less than five thousand people. If you gave a shit, you could do his job. But instead he walked around like a god reincarnated, telling anyone who would listen about his big ideas. His only redeeming quality was choosing his second-in-command Natasha.

While Vaughn walked in with enough hot air to inflate the station, there was a nervous edge to his snarky smile. “Has anyone seen the Captain?” Several officers mumble about him being out. Vaughn looks disappointed, surely here to get the latest scoop on the largest crime to sweep the town in decades so he could lead the gossip rings. His beady eyes sweep the room, taking in the scuffed floors and overdue paperwork, straightening his godawful mustard tie, and then locks on you.

“Sweetheart! How are you holding up?” Oh great, the whole Stop n’ Shop must have heard you were involved. “Came to see if your old man needed anything from the knowledge hub that is me.”

It physically hurts to stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

Bob lifts himself from the hard plastic chair and extends a hand politely, the sleeve of his camel jacket exposing the leather bracelets on his wrist from . Vaughn wrinkles his nose. For someone wearing a mustard tie and a suit half a size too big, it’s bogus he’s judging Bob’s attire. Fanboy’s highlighter green ball cap is much worse.

The city manager shakes the hands of the two men, vaguely aware of their existence, before continuing on about his own experience with the robbery. You know, the one he isn’t part of at all. “Just dreadful really. I’m just as shaken as the rest of the town. And to think all the money for the restoration just, poof, gone. Knew we should have gotten rid of that rotting back door ages ago. Guess the restoration will be on hold permanently.”

“Whoa, whoa, freeze! What back door?” Fanboy pipes in. No one has mentioned a back door up to this point. “And how do you know the thief used it?’

The older man’s eyes tighten just a fraction. Steely charcoal stilling the circle. And then it was broken, that smug smile back in its place. “Ran into the Seresin kid while trying to track down the captain - my good friend - and he mentioned that’s how they determined the thieves got in.”

Why hadn’t your dad mentioned that?

Suddenly bored being the oldest person, Vaughn Carmichael taps you on the shoulder like you’re old chums, sparing the boys an unimpressed look. “I must go, I have meetings all day tomorrow and must prepare. City manager stuff, you wouldn’t understand.” The three of you give him a look to say you don’t want to understand.

Watching him stroll out of the precinct, shaking several hands, he pauses just a moment before pushing through the heavy black doors. “Boys?” Fanboy and Bob turn to him, unimpressed. “Why don’t you leave the real detective work to the professionals.”

The vein in Bob’s temple flares. Fanboy accidentally snaps the pencil he was using to jot down notes. Vaughn Carmichael, such a peach.

Shaking your head to clear the stench of Givenchy Gentleman from your nostrils (could the man choose a more pungent cologne?) you look back at your hired sleuths to process the information that just landed in your laps.

“We need to find out about the back door at the bank.” Fanboy underlines back door several times on his notepad.

Bob furrows his eyebrows at you. “Wait, you don’t know about this back door? You’ve worked there for years.”

“If I did would I be saying we need to find out more?” Your hand lands on your hip in annoyance.

Fanboy nearly gags with how much tension has been lying between the two of you since high school. Even worse now that you’ve both grown out of your awkward teen phases. “Quit your bickerin’, grannies. Who does know about the back door?”

No one on your staff had ever mentioned a back door. In all of your years of training and now as assistant manager it has never come up. But Vaughn pointed out the one person who knows the building inside and out. Even knows when you mistakenly leave your lunch dishes in the sink to soak for too long.

“We’ve got to go see Jake Seresin.”

A collective groan. “Really?”

“Okay, we all know he’s the worst, but he’s been doing security for the bank since high school. He definitely knows everything about this mysterious back door.” You nudge Fanboy. “I promise I’ll protect you from your bully.”

“He wasn’t our bully! He’s just an ass!”

But you’re still snickering as you gather up your bag, picking a stray piece of lint off your quarter zip. All these years later and they’re still avoiding Jake like the plague.

The two follow you out of the precinct, aimlessly following where you’re pointedly heading. Bob runs a hand through his hair before replacing his ball cap, unsure what direction this case has taken.

“So what makes you so sure that Jake is even gonna talk to us? Especially if he’s already spoken to the police?”

You take a right, longingly looking at the record store where your beloved album lies, unpurchased. This day was bogus. How could you be so dumb forgetting your paycheck in your locker? In another dimension your mom is making your third favorite dinner, you’re listening to “Do It Again” on your bedroom floor with a cigarette, and the only worry in the world is making sure your alarm goes off tomorrow.

Fuckin’ gnarly, dude.

You make another turn, your Docs trudging over the pavement.

“He might not talk to us. But there’s one person he will definitely talk to if we can convince her.” They give you an impatient look. “We’re going to go see Cassie.”

“Who the fuck is Cassie?”

taglist: @bcarolinablr @bobgasm @bradshawsbaby @buckys-estrella @creatchie8 @eli2447 @hangmanapologist @just-in-case-iloveyou @maryelizabeth13 @mtnzen @petersunderoos96 @rhettsluvr @roosterforme @sweetwhispersofchaos @topherwrites @yuckosworld

join the taglist for whodunit? and more

#top gun: maverick au #top gun: maverick fan fiction #mickey fanboy garcia fan fiction #mickey fanboy garcia fic #robert bob floyd fan fiction #robert bob floyd fic #mickey fanboy garcia #robert bob floyd #mickey garcia #bob floyd #x reader

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lizaluvsthis · 3 months

Text

A Chamber of Burning Souls

Fanfic Written and Illustrated by @lizaluvsthis

Idea of creation by @itsajjanea

First off- I'd like to thank @itsajjanea for the main fic idea I feel so tempted on making the fic cause I really don't want to attend prom rn and I dont even have no partner. Anyways- consider this as a valentines meal for yall-

I know how much everyone has been wanting a valentines fic for our gay boys :))

Oh- just a reminder that me and AJ are making an AU dedicated with the Movie we both watched and gave us the gay fairy boys some ideas of it so :D

Summary: It's Prom and everyone is invited to celebrate at Square Plaza, having no partners left to find. SMG4 and SMG3 both paired together.

With Four having no experience of what Prom is at all, he happens to find himself binded with his ex rival filled with complicated thoughts.

Tags: Friends to Lovers, Sun and Moon, fluff, romance, drama, hurt/comfort, angst, gay fruits are real, LOVE IS IN THE AIR YALLL

Relationships:

SMG4/SMG3

Mario & Meggy Spletzer

Meggy & SMG4

Mario & SMG4

Mario & SMG3

Meggy/Tari

Luigi/Bowser

Mario/Spaghetti¿

Bob & Mario

Chapter: Prologue- The golds in strangles

SMG4 gets a knock on the doors step as he opens it with no one at the presence. His eyes phased down to spot an envelope. "Huh- that's weird-"

SMG4 picked it up and brought it to the living room where Bob and Mario are currently playing games, Meggy cheered Mario up. "Come on Mario! You can do it! Beat his ass!"

Mario trying so hard as he spam clicks the buttons from the controller, with another set of limb to eat his spaghetti trying to focus. "I'm trying here!" Mario grunts in frustration as he gets almost beaten by Bob.

"OH YEAH!? YOU THINK YOU'RE BETTER? WELL TRY ME B-TCH CUZ THIS BOB NEVER RES-" almost filling up Bob's sentences, he gets knocked over to the ground as SMG4 pops into the couch.

"Yo guys! Check this out! We have got a letter!" Meggy and Mario looked at each other, then back to him. "Ooh a letter? What does it say?" Tari spoke right beside Meggy as she pets her rubber duck.

Four carefully opens the envelope and took out the paper, he makes a small joke before opening it's last fold. "Hope it's not our loans for the castle-" in an immediate took by his suprise, the shining of the font reflected to his eyes.

The text is filled out of gold ink in a fancy choice for the font's italic words. The scent of the paper is dried oatmeal, with a mixture of red roses that can be smelled.

The crew found it astounding to take the envelope a bit too serious now as SMG4 carefully read out the words.

"Good afternoon to everyone, I hope you all are having an amazing day. This letter that we provide you all, is about an upcoming event that will be held at the Square Plaza near the Mushroom Kingdom, you are all invited to join in.

The main event is a party themed for Prom, just to remind everyone it's almost close to valentines day and make sure to bring yourself a partner.

We'll be glad to meet your attendancies at the party."

After SMG4 had read the letter, the bubbles of the air filled in and popped with his crew's early celebration.

"LETS GO BABY I'M GONNA GET MY OWN B-TCHES FOR TONIGHT!" Bob excitingly said, picking out something from his pocket and shot up a launcher through the roof as he called a helicopter to take him away.

"I'm so excited! I've never been on a prom sadly, last time I remembered were other of the inklings I know were the ones to beg for me to be their partner. I didn't know how prom works so I went alone and got kicked out- like thats a big sucker-" Meggy gazed up waving her hand away to think about the past and brushing it off as a cold plain memory.

"Mario's got-ta have thems spaghettis for free!" He 'Oooh'd' rubbing his stomach craving for more spaghettis than he'd eber order in a silver platter.

He day dreamed sitting on a fancy table holding a fork to his right as he asked the waitress for more pasta, sit up straight confidently pointing up his hand.

As a result of Meggy breaking through his 'imaginable-barrier' with the paper ripped on to the spaghetti. "Mario, we're supposed to bring our partners not just enjoy food." He threw out the paper snapping back to reality.

"Atleast foods can be your love match when it comes to terms of 'love' like my sweet spaghetta pasta rolli" he accordingly pulls another set of pasta out of nowhere patting the 'sauce' on top.

Meggy pinched the bridge of her nose fuming out frustration, guess it's always assumable that Mario will always be Mario.

"Mario, you do know foods aren't real beings right?"

The orange haired girl turned to look at SMG4, but to all she could see is a Meme Guardian whos pondering deep from his thoughts.

It was such a very hard decision, he wasn't even sure if he'll attend. "What about you SMG4?" The man in white and blue didn't respond, but instead. Turned the letter to look at the back.

---

Location held in: Square Plaza

Time in: 5-6 pm

Time ends: 11 pm

Note- Required to attend and bring a special guest/partner

---

Gazing through the golden text double checking, it made his eyes felt life threatening from the word's mouth. He squints his eyes. "I don't know Meggy, you guys seemed to have an experience when it comes to prom but I... well-"

Mario scoots closer to be in the side view "Assuming, you've never had a partner to dance with in your days?" Out of curiousness, SMG4 breaks everyone out by telling a word.

"I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT OR HOW PROMS ARE SUPPOSED TO WORK!" throwing the letter and the envelope at the same time to the sky.

"Aww don't worry SMG4! If it makes you feel any better, I don't know how proms are when it comes to occassions like this! I only watch it on animes with my waifu hatsune miku!"

Boopkins filled out enlightment with a soft pull from the sheets is a body pillow of miku hatsune where it gets hugged tightly by boopkins.

"But that isn't the same in reality, I've never had a partner- or even went to prom- neither!" "I thought you said people loved you and your contents before?" Mario urged in gibberish.

"They do... But- I'm not that as funny as a kind guy I am. I'm not one of those rich wealthy dudes, I don't have experience-" "well you're about to have it now!" Meggy cracked her knuckles.

"No- I don't think you understand-"

"we're pulling you in for your first ever prom experience!"

"Mario's gonn to help you find some chicks!"

The M&M duo spoke in different answers.

The dried inkling added a death stare to Mario's soul, giving him the creeps making him change back the sentence. "I mean- uh- help you with prom." Mario thought to himself with both eyes turning on opposite directions away from each other and his mustache growing bigger.

SMG4 gave them an awkward look, and finally decided. (If Three were to come then... I'll be there...) He didn't want to miss out all of the fun stuffs that will happen during the event.

"I guess- whats worse that could happen during prom?" He brought up a wide smile to the team as everyone Wooh'd in excitement.

Leaving then, pointing on view to SMG3's cafe where a letter is left the side of the doorstep the same placement back at the blue's castle.

*ding-dong* a doorbell rang. Where Three opened the door to check.

What could've been a result to happen when you didn't come?

"What is this... A letter?"

End of Prologue...

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

Next Chapter- Night Bring Out... [COMPLETED]

#lizaluv #smg4 #smg34 #smg3 #smg4 smg3 #my art #my fic writing #my fic #my fanfic #itsajjena #acobs #a chamber of burning souls

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shady-tavern · 18 days

Text

Preview for "Heartless" the May Patreon Short Story

Everyone knew of the mage who had lost his heart. Some said he had given it to a beautiful but cruel witch, who had kept it since as a trophy. Others said he had been so cruel the beautiful witch had taken it in a bid to stop him and he haunted the lands ever since, lost and searching for what had been stolen.

Others once again said he had gambled it away in the hopes of never again fearing the touch of death and decay.

The legend changed depending on the warning people wanted to impart, but everyone agreed on one thing: Anyone who was able to return the mage's heart was owed a wish. A powerful one at that, one that could even bring back the dead. Or so they said.

Many people had tried to retrieve the heart over the years. Older folk who desired to regain their youth, young lovers who wanted to stay together forever and grieving parents who wanted their slain children back. Even slighted nobles who wished to marry a king to climb in station and show up their rivals along with hopeful peasants who wanted to enrich their lives had given it a try.

The yearning for eternal beauty, for invincibility, the desire to grow rich and famous, love and greed, despair and dreams, all those and more had driven people to seek out the mage.

He wasn't terribly hard to find if one knew how to, people said. One needed a cloudless night during a full moon, creating a circle made of acorns and cornflowers. A bowl would be placed in four spots, facing the four points of the compass.

A bowl of milk facing the south, a bowl of salted mushrooms to the east, a bowl of white bones to the north and to the west stood a bowl filled with iron shavings.

Once those things were in place, one had to sing the mage's song. A lament that could not be messed up even once, nor was the singer allowed to stutter. The smallest misstep meant the mage would not deign to appear.

But once the ritual was completed, he'd be there, ethereal and beautiful. And very much heartless. Some people said his eyes were empty and black like coals, others said he was relentlessly hungry, a near mindless beast driven to try and get back what he had lost.

In stories he was either cold and uncaring or a moaning beast willing to tear people apart. Some said he ripped out their hearts when they failed to get him his back and that he stuffed theirs into his chest instead, only for the hearts to turn to dust in his hands.

Others said he was quite satisfied with his lot in life, that he liked not feeling anything, walking in eternal coldness. That it made him sharp and impossible to trick and that his magic had become all the more powerful for it.

Whatever truth there may be to these stories, one thing remained unchanged: He had no heart. No one had been able to give it back to him, no matter how hard they had tried.

You could admit that you liked hearing stories about something as wondrous and yet as far removed from your life as a heartless mage. Your life was quiet and gentle and you liked it that way. While you loved stories of kings and queens and magical conquests, of evil slain and good prevailing, of innocent people rescued, such things had no place in your day to day life.

You were the daughter of a warm, frugal man who had married a reasonably rich merchant, a woman who gave freely and happily and both of them had raised you with plenty of love and care. You had wanted for nothing when they filled the house with laughter and taught you everything they could with gentle hands.

When you had decided to become a bee keeper and candle maker, they had helped you fulfill your dream, asking around until they had found the perfect little home and plot of land for you to pay off, since you refused their money. They had already given you enough.

"What would you ask for, if you got the mage's heart?" your best friend asked when she visited you one afternoon to pick up the produce from your bees, a jar of honey and two candles you had made for her.

You paused for a long moment, looking outside the window to your flower fields and the approaching heavy rain clouds.

"I'd probably just give it back to him," you answered and at her incredulous look, you couldn't help but shrug. "I'm happy, right now there is nothing I'd ask for."

Happiness wasn't around every day of course. You had weathered many a storm, but largely you were, indeed, quite content with life. You had learned that even if dark times came, you could fight through them until you reached the light again. You could and would do it as many times as necessary.

"I'd probably ask for all the riches I could think of," your friend mused. "I'd love to go to the big city and attend the balls, you know? Dancing with dashing noblemen and women and just..."

She sighed wistfully, adding, "Just imagine it. Glittering jewel chandeliers and all those elegant, courteous people. No one farting at the dinner table or anything like that."

You couldn't help but laugh as you handed over the candles she had asked for. You had carved some delicate flowers along the outside per her request and her eyes lit up when she saw your handiwork.

"Why not marry the mage then? He should be able to give you all that with how sought after and highly regarded his kind are," you asked as she put everything into her basket.

"Mages are dangerous," she answered with a shake of her head. "I won't ever tangle with that. Besides, I heard that mages only appear beautiful at first. The longer you look at them, the stranger they become. I don't know. I don't think I could have a husband that would look less and less human every day."

That was reasonable enough, you supposed, if such things were true.

Your friend frowned a little and sighed, "Not that I'd ever get a chance to find his heart in the first place, if the legend is even true. Old Brenna swears up and down that she saw him once, but then again she also claims to have seen bog bies and little gnomes. Still, wouldn't it be nice to not be stuck here?"

"I quite like it here," you said and cast a glance outside the window. "And if you don't plan to either walk through the rain or stay for dinner you should probably get going."

Your friend leaned forward to peer up at the sky as well and made a face. "Damn, you're right. Alright, I'll see you again tomorrow?"

"You're welcome anytime," you reassured her and she left with a fond smile, telling you to drop by for dinner at her place sometime soon.

A minute after she left the first drop hit your window, followed by many more. You took a moment to stand there and close your eyes, listening to the pitter patter of rain coming down on your cozy little home. What a lovely sound.

You cleaned up around the house for a bit, listening to the calming, steady fall of rain, before you peered out the window again. It was getting late enough that you should lock the chickens in their coop so they'd be safe during the night.

Grabbing your wool cloak to stay safe from the rain and getting barefoot into your boots since you couldn't be bothered to put on socks, you stepped outside. The smell of rain and warm earth welcomed you as you walked down the small path to the coop, lightly hopping from one broad, flat stone to the next.

You hummed to yourself and before you knew it, you were singing the mage's song as you checked if the chickens were already safely inside their coop.

For all the joy, all the joy it brought to me

My heart longs, oh it longs to be set free

All's fair in love and war they say

But when your words, oh your sweet words wither and decay

My heart drowned, oh it drowned in sorrow's flood

So set me free, set me free so I can choose to land

In someone's kind and gentle hand

You weren't too worried about summoning the mage with just his song, considering the plethora of things one had to do on top of that – if he indeed existed. You doubted he'd even hear you singing in the rain in the first place.

If you were being honest, you quite liked the song, depending on your mood, you could sing it quickly and cheerfully or slowly and with melancholy. Today you sang it light and sweet with an undertone of joy, fitting to the good mood the gentle rain had brought as you locked in your chickens.

It took you a moment to notice the steady, muffled sound of footsteps and when you turned around, curious and surprised, you stilled, the song dying on your lips.

You knew it was the mage with just a glance. He stood tall and with elegant poise, his long, flowing robes were black as night and raven-dark embroidery shimmered on it in the dim, evening light falling through thick clouds.

His missing heart was easy to see, a ring of light glowing softly on his chest, reminding you of the solar eclipse you had seen once.

His long, pale hair fell down his back like a wave of shimmering silver and his lashes were dark and thick, his eyes a soft lavender. His eyes were the only bits of true color on him.

Even the jewelry he was decked in was pale. The delicate silver crown with it's glittering gems, the earrings on his pointy ears, the rings on his elegant fingers and the necklace around his throat, they all looked like they were woven out of starlight and white gold.

"Good evening," the mage said and your friend had been right about one thing, the longer you looked at him, the less human he appeared.

His lavender eyes held a shine that was deeper and stranger than even the oldest woods, his nails seemed just a tad too hard and long, hinting at claws, his hair too shimmering and silver and his clothes were made of no fabric you had ever seen before.

He seemed utterly out of place, standing among the flower fields that surrounded this side of your home, rain gently drumming down.

"I had not expected to hear my song tonight," he said, soft spoken and polite, but you weren't fooled. Mages were dangerous and you had been raised with a good head on your shoulders. "Especially without any of the usual provisions. Are you to make a bid for my heart?"

"Oh, my apologies," you hurried to say, nervously gripping your woolen cloak as you peered at him past the rim of your hood. "I merely like your song, I had not intended to call upon you. I honestly thought it wouldn't work without all the other demands being fulfilled."

His head tipped slightly, the fine, delicate chain on one ear glittering with the movement. "I see. Now that I did appear anyway, do you intend to make a bid for my heart?"

You wondered if it was painful for him, to wander around without one. If he was caught in a perpetual search for the next person who could gain it and trade it back for a wish. If maybe, between being summoned by songs, he was hunting for his heart himself.

"No," you answered honestly. You personally did not much enjoy lying in the first place, it only caused problems sooner or later. "I have no desire for your heart."

He blinked once and there was a pause, as though he was carefully choosing his words. "And what about a wish?"

You couldn't help but gesture all around you. "I like my life, I like this place and my work here and those I love are happy and healthy enough." Could wishes even make people truly happy? Or were they tricks, like fae deals? "There is little I want and the things I do desire I intend to get on my own."

He seemed surprised at your answer and then he was smiling and everything about him seemed just a tad brighter, from the glow on his chest to the glittering jewelry and the silver shine of his hair.

"A fair answer from a fair heart, I am glad to hear as much," he said, a touch of real warmth entering his voice. "My apologies for disturbing you then. Have a good evening."

He offered a polite little bow and was about to move on when you realized that he was getting more drenched with every moment. And while he was a mage, you did feel a bit bad that you had summoned him into this weather unintentionally.

"Would you like to come in?" you asked and he paused, glancing at you. "At least until the bad weather is over. I've been told I make pretty good food, too."

He blinked and water trailed over his crow, dripping off at the edges and he inclined his head in agreement, appearing somewhat curios.

You led the way back to your little home and held the door open for him. Toeing off your shoes and as he stepped inside, you fetched a linen towel for him and handed him the slippers you kept around for when you had visitors with bigger feet.

"Thank you for your hospitality," he said and you felt the brief shiver of magic in the air that dried him entirely as he refused the towel with a rather kind smile.

You left him to look around your open living room and kitchen as you started to boil water for a pot of tea. He was quite respectful of your space, glancing at some paintings you kept around and your little knickknacks on display.

He did pause when he saw your work, the candles you had finished today, some already packaged to be sent out tomorrow. The temple had a regular order that you fulfilled and they were due another delivery.

"You are quite skilled," he said and gestured at the candles you had carved and painted for market day. "May I?"

"Go ahead," you told him, digging out the fancy tea your mother had gifted you as a house warming gift.

By the time the tea was done, the mage had selected a few candles and upon inquiring for their prices, paid for them.

"May I put in an order?" he asked. "Some of my spellwork requires candles. Would you be willing to make enchanted ones as well, so long as I bring you the necessary components?"

"Can I even enchant candles? I'm about as ordinary as they come," you answered and the mage's face lit up.

To your surprise, the ensuing conversation and discussion about magic and magical properties that some things inherently possessed and how ordinary people could use them as well, was quite fun and interesting.

Before you knew it, you had served dinner and the mage had complimented you for the good food and you kept talking as the rain kept falling outside, moving into your living room to get comfortable on the two seats you had placed near the small fireplace.

You genuinely had so much fun you even managed to make the mage laugh, the jewelry on his ears tinkling softly as he was gripped by mirth. You were sad to see him go when the thrum of rain stopped at last.

"Feel free to visit whenever you want," you said with a smile as you accompanied him to the door. "I'm here most days and it can get quite lonely." You loved your friends and family, but they had their own lives and their own responsibilities and relationships to care for. You didn't get to see them as often as you'd like.

"I understand that all too well," the mage said with a little smile, melancholic and soft, that told you he indeed knew what it was like. "I will take you up on that offer. Ah, may I tell my friends and acquaintances about you as well? They have been looking for a good candle supplier for some time."

"Oh, of course, though, maybe give me some time to figure out how to create enchanted candles," you answered and he obligingly bowed his head a little.

As he left, he did so with a last smile, his jewelry shimmering as though freshly polished and his hair as fine as spun silver coated in starlight. He was gone just like that, melting into the dark of night as though he had become one with it.

Closing the door you went and cleaned up and finished packing away the candles for the next day. As you went to bed, you couldn't help but think that he didn't seem to be in pain, at the very least.

Still, you couldn't imagine that being heartless was very pleasant.

*.*.*

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