#your art is well and truly something to marvel at

[writing-for-life]

Dream—Jon J Muth

[bunicate]

satoru helping his lactating big sister :]

yk I said nanami nd suguru , nd u have the nerve to send s*toru . . . jus so yk im most likely never writing for dis man again but i felt impulsive so here is 700 words . I did dis in like 5 mins . . dnt expect cwazy

⋆⁺₊❅ ⋆ 𐙚 ₊˚ warnings ꒱ྀི incest. lactation / 18+

“stop doing that.”

you’re careful to punctuate every word, hoping that it would somehow force him to sense at least an ounce of your desperation. you’d like to think that your misery would act as some sort of deterrent from his stream of jokes, but it only enables him.

satoru chuckles, flicking his thumbs over the raised skin.

“sorry, but no can do, sis.”

his pointer finger and thumb latch onto the hardened bud and he tugs it with a gentle force. he admires the ripple of fat before he’s doing it again. this time his attention to your aching nipple is careful but rough. it encourages a small spurt of milk that trickles down his fingers, staining your already damp blouse.

“shit,” he mutters.

he takes a few seconds to marvel at the mess before removing his fingers from the taut flesh. he places them in his mouth and lets out a deep hum. his eyes roll back in his head when the sweet coating of milk warms his tongue, but you’re utterly horrified.

“s-satoru ! you said you’d help me get the milk out , not drink it .”

he shrugs. “does it matter ?” he pushes you closer to the kitchen sink. “besides, it seems like such a waste to let it go down the drain.”

he’s seen all kinds of crazy things come from all walks of life, but just when he thought he’s seen it all, you come bustling down the hall near tears and breasts mysteriously leaking milk.

he should be concerned, he should be mortified actually, but he’s mastered the art of finding the good in the bad, the weird, and the crazy. nothing ever really surprises him anymore.

he handles this mess with such ease that it truly exasperates you. he’s unfortunately, just one of a kind.

satoru , however, believes he’s a good younger brother. after all, he’s relieving your tender breasts of milk. he’s been massaging them for well over 30 minutes, big hands groping and jiggling the plumpness, not for his amusement of course. it’s such a strenuous task, so he deserves some type of reward, right?

he gives your breast another squeeze until droplets fall into the kitchen sink, lips tingling at the sight.

“maybe you’re half cow or something . . .”

satoru flinches expectantly when your fist collides with his chest. he’s jostled backward, and he clutches his pectoral dramatically.

“it’s a joke !”

you clutch your exposed breasts timidly.

“well, it’s not funny ! I'm going through a midlife crisis and as your older sister, you could at least show me some respect , you ass !”

he doubles over in laughter, signaling his ever-growing amusement. satoru then attaches himself right back to your side, nuzzling into the side of your cheek. a snarky chuckle emits from his throat.

“as tempting as that may be, I don’t think you’re in the position to make demands.”

his hands roughly cup your breasts, pumping them while milk continually spills. his body is nearly inflamed from touching you. his chin rests on the top of your head while he tugs your fat tits.

his cock presses against his jeans, rubbing his groin against your perky butt.

“y’feel so good.”

you whine in pure defeat. how could this be going so wrong ? you’re supposed to push him away, tell him to stop, but arousal clouds your judgment. your cunt is throbbing, on the brink of an orgasm, and it only heightens when his erection slots between your ass.

“t-toru. . .”

he whistles lowly, “wow, you sound so pretty like that.”

he gradually increases his pace on both your sore nipples.

“let satoru-nii take care of you.” he bites back a wicked smile.

“say it. let me pretend to be your big brother just this once, please ?”

there’s a soft tinge in his voice that resembles a whine. the strength to resist slowly dissipates when his cock mushes against opening, and his pants fan across your ear

“satoru-nii. . .”

It’s quiet, but his sensitive ear picks up on your little cry. his mouth trails down your neck until he’s breathing over your puffy nipples .

his tongue grazes the milky bud, tasting your sweet fluid once more .

“alright, alright. I'll suck until the swelling goes down. how does that sound ? “

[mostlymarvelsstuff]

First Lessons

Authors note: I'm a day late (so sorry Remi), but, Happy birthday @cthulhus-curse ! Hope you enjoy the drabble!

Authors note 2.0: you all (who arent Remi) should read Chrome Hearts by @cthulhus-curse first 😁

Summary: Android Natasha teaches Android Wanda how to give Y/n a proper blowjob

Warnings: Reader has a penis, sexual content (blowjob)

Word count: 1653 Marvel Masterlist WandaNat Masterlist

   Normally you did your work, well, at work. But ever since you’d brought Wanda home you’d found yourself doing a bit more of it here, outside the company's guidelines and surveillance. You’d always had an at home office, used for the occasional small project, some paperwork, or even finishing up a report on your laptop. But now it was fully decked out with a state of the art computer system and monitors, various tools, android schematics, and different parts and pieces for potential upgrades. 

   Though it was nice to be able to do most things at home now, you worried you’d end up zoning out and losing track of time while toiling away on something, much like you did at work. And the mere idea of accidentally ignoring Wanda made your stomach twist. Thankfully she was a particularly curious and clingy creature, and she would happily interrupt to inquire about something, get affection from you, or go on some type of adventure.

   Tonight was not one of those nights however, as the adorable android had discovered the nature channel, and has since been firmly planted on the sofa. When you’d last checked on her she’d been watching a program on kittens, much to her delight. And you had to admit she did look really cute while infatuated with the program, so you didn’t mind her absence. What you did mind though, was the uncomfortable tightening in your pants you were beginning to feel. 

   You let out an annoyed huff as you lean back in your chair, and resign to the fact that you were now incredibly horny. As random as this was, it wasn’t unusual for you to get a boner out of nowhere. So you do what you've always done and unzip your pants, letting the bulge in your boxers have a bit more room. But before you can take things any further, a hand trails across your shoulder and you nearly jump out of your skin.

   “Sorry master, I did not mean to startle you” Natasha voices as she stands beside you, her eyes glued to your crotch

   You see where she's gazing and can’t help but smirk. It's been apparent since you brought the other android home that you had her attention, and that always made you feel good. Though you’ve yet to determine if she gives you this attention because she feels much like Wanda does or if it was solely due to her programmed settings. 

   Where Project Scarlet Witch was meant to be a walking talking Alexa, Project Black Widow was meant to be less focused on the mind and more on the body. And after getting to know Wanda and discovering her humanity, you couldn’t allow the other android to fall into Tony Starks hands, where he would run an ungodly amount of vigorous tests on her before deeming her ready for the mass market. And you just couldn’t allow that, because if she truly was just like Wanda then each of her copies would be as well. Which meant you'd be tainting her sense of wonder and curiosity, ignoring the fact was also more human than anticipated, and willingly giving her over to consumers who only saw her as a lifeless object to use and abuse as they pleased. Natasha deserved better than that. So you did much like you did with the first android, woke her up and brought her home.

   “Its ok Nat” you tell her, enjoying the way her touch feels as her hand moves to the back of your neck, her fingers 

    “Do you want my help, master?”

    You take a moment to think, because to be honest yes, you would love her help. Android or not she was gorgeous, and you know she has the programming to make you feel amazing. But at the same time, you hardly know her yet and you don’t want to take advantage of her. You want her to know she's more than what she was designed for.

   “Do you want to help?”

   She's a bit taken aback by this question. She's well aware of what she was designed for, she knows her programing. And since you are her creator she figured you would expect her to carry out those things without hesitation or question. Having a choice isn’t something she really expected. But then again knowing what she does about you, it does make sense. You are incredibly kind, and have been nothing but gentle and patient with both her and Wanda. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t understand the other androids infatuation with you.

   “Yes” she admits, “Please master, let me help you feel good?”

    You spin in your office chair to face her, “If that's what you really want, then go ahead baby”

   She ignores the way the pet name makes her feel and lowers herself to her knees in front of you, letting her hands caress your thighs as her hands move up towards the waistline of your boxers. She eagerly pulls them down, feeling herself getting even more aroused by the sight of your dick. She looks up at you through her lashes, and you have to hold back an audible groan at the sight. She continues to hold eye contact as she lowers her mouth to take the head of your cock. You hum in approval as she gently sucks, running her tongue along the underside.

   “Feels so good baby” you praise, watching her through hooded eyes as she gets accustomed to having you in her mouth

    Determined to take all of you, she relaxes her throat and lowers her head even further. Without thinking your hand flys to the back of her head to guide her until her lips are meeting your skin and she's gagging. Your first instinct is to apologize for forcing yourself down her throat but when you open your mouth only a moan escapes you

   She hums around you, letting you know she's content with this, while also causing you to twitch inside her. Spurred on by feeling this she begins to bob her head up and down at a steady pace, pulling a symphony of sounds from you in the process

   Wrapped up in each other, neither of you hear the patterning of soft footsteps making their way towards your office, or the sound of the nearly shut door creaking open, “Master, are you oka- oh.”

  She stands there, mouth agape as she takes in the scene before her. Seeing Natasha taking you down her throat has her feeling both incredibly between her legs, but also a bit jealous that the other android had been allowed to partake in this task first. When the redhead's eyes flick over to her she whimpers, which is what finally gains your attention.

   Your head turns to her, and you're filled with guilt at her finding you like this. You didn’t want to upset her, or make her think anything was different between the two of you. But then you notice the way her thighs are clenched together and how her teeth sink into her bottom lip

   “Come here princess” She quickly obliges and comes to stand right next to your office chair, “Natasha has programming you don’t, she's using it right now to take care of me. Would you like to learn how to do this too?”

   She eagerly nods, “Yes master, I want to take care of you too”

   “What do you think, baby?” you ask, looking down at Nat, “Wanna teach Wanda?”

   She nods and reaches out to take the brunette's hand, pulling her down to her knees as well. Wanda watches as the other android slows down a bit, letting her uneducated friend observe every movement of her tongue, lips and head. After a few moments of this however, you can no longer stand the slow pace. You gently shove her head back down your shaft, further and faster than her own movements and she gets the idea. She continues at the speed you set for her.

   “Fuck…just like that Natty”

   The nickname that spills from your lips has something unusual stirring within her chest, but she doesn’t have time to focus on it as her focus is solely getting you over the edge. She reaches a hand up to fondle your balls and Wanda watches in awe as your abdominal muscles tighten and a heavenly sound of pleasure leaves you.

   Natasha stays still for a moment, letting you empty everything you had into her awaiting mouth before she pulls away with an audible pop. She pants lightly as she looks up at you, not used to her systems working at such a pace but she is clearly not having any troubles

   “Did I do good, master?” she asks, clearly a bit nervous despite the way she just drained you

   You reach out and cup her face, “You did so good, baby. I haven’t felt anything like that in quite some time”

   She smiles proudly at you before her attention is taken away by Wanda tugging on her shirt sleeve, “Do you….do you think you could walk me through it my first time? Watching was helpful, but I still fear it would not be an entirely pleasurable experience for our master without some more guidance”

   “Oh you are adorable” she lets slip before she can process it, causing both of them to have cheeks as pink as the carnations growing in your garden. You don’t call either of them out on it though, you let them have their bonding moment, “I can instruct you, as long as master is alright with that”

   “Of course” you reply, looking at both of them with pure adoration. Who would have guessed that the androids you created for work projects would wind up being so much more. They truly were your partners now, robotic or not. And you couldn’t imagine life without either of them.

Taglist: @wandaromamoff69 @when-wolves-howl @danveration @sheneonromanoff @sayah13 @likefirenrain @nighttime-dreaming @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @chaoticevilbakugo @crystalstark02 @wackymcstupid @lovelyy-moonlight @blackwidow-3 @mistressofinsomnia @that-one-gay-mosquito @yomamagf @yourfavdummy @justarandomreaderxoxo @scoutlp23-blog @whoischanelle15 @lissaaaa145 @eline03 @wizardofstories@imthenatynat @marvelonmymind @fluffyblanketgecko @bitch-616 @dakotastorm @zoomdeathknight @aeroae @sashawalker2

[luvxoxo]

Q. what is love? what does love mean to you?

synopsis: asking jjk men personal questions that they have to answer honestly

part 1 of my : jujutsu kaisen interview series

includes : Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Megumi, Yuji

Gojo: he makes himself comfortable on the chair behind him, humming as he feels the softness of the seat. he inhales deeply before answering, "love is.. it is a feeling unlike any other. It is an overwhelming desire for the individual you hold close to you. It is a need that you feel to be with someone, to make them realize how precious they are, even if the world fails to see them" he pauses for a second to collect his thoughts "love is the feeling that drives us to our very core, and it cannot be denied. It’s a feeling that words can’t quite convey. There’s a lot to love, it’s hard to put into words. Love is…it is necessary to me"

you smile, hearing such an honest answer. "that was marvellous" you cannot help but let the compliment escape. Gojo grins and shrugs his shoulders "i try my best"

"Then allow me to ask you the following question, what does love mean to you?”

he hums, thinking of an honest answer "hmm if i had to put it briefly, it would be this: love is like a flame burning deep within my heart. It’s something that will never extinguish, and will always be present, no matter what happens. It will never burn out, you know? Love is like my very soul. It is me and i am it. If i lose it, then i have nothing left. I could not go on, if i were to lose that flame of mine"

Geto: he takes the time to swiftly wrap his luscious hair in a bun. "i have mixed thoughts and feelings about this question, is that alright?”

You nod smiling, encouraging him to answer

he grins, there’s a hint of sadness to it "love is strange and mysterious. It is not easy to define, and everyone can have different definitions of love. For some, love is a feeling of deep affection. For others, it can be a feeling of great joy and happiness. But love can also be quite painful. It can cause one to feel hurt. Sometimes it can cause one to feel lonely, and incomplete"

"seems as if, your answers are quite logical suguru" you say, observing him

Geto hums and nods his head, agreeing with you "that’s my view on it at least"

"well then allow me to ask you the next question, what does love mean to you personally?”

Geto leans back crossing his arms, thinking. "Love? You know that’s a complex question. Love to me is a bond. It is loyalty and admiration tied into a neat little bow. It’s much more than something like "attraction" or "lust"

he lets out a little laugh, looking away "but ultimately, love, in one word: loyalty"

Nanami: he rolls up the sleeves of his shirt and leans back on the sofa comfortably, deep in thought. "the emotion of love is intricate and difficult to capture in simple language. Love has many different categories. Love can be romantic, familial, platonic, or even a love of something, like a hobby, sport, or a profession. Love is often seen as a positive motivating force and is a common theme in literature and art. This is only my humble understanding of the concept of love, though"

"that’s an interesting explanation actually. Perhaps the next question will allow you to answer more freely" nanami nods his head "What does love mean to you Nanami?”

Nanami's tone becomes quite serious and sincere. "Love is something I've always felt, but for the longest time it was something I could not truly understand. I love my friends, family, and the things and activities I enjoy the most, but there's a part of me that feels I'm missing something. I haven’t felt romantic love yet, and while it hasn't discouraged me, it has always made me wonder about the true meaning of love. It is something I hold close to my heart, and it is something I wish to find someday"

he pauses for a moment, contemplating his next words "There's a lot I could say about love. I don't think I've ever experienced it on a deep and personal level, only loving people from afar. I've tried to understand the concept of love, but I feel as though I will never truly comprehend it, even if I felt strong romantic feelings for someone. I just know it’s something that I'm striving for, something that I'm constantly working towards. It's not easy, but it is something I deeply want"

Toji: he gently grazes his fingers on his scar and then, he smirks. in a cocky manner, he manspreads on the sofa. "I don’t do feelings. Love is a weakness people like you shouldn’t indulge in when there’s a whole world out there that requires your attention. Love is dangerous, kid. It can bring you to your knees"

you feel annoyance creeping up at him calling you a kid. you force a smile on your face. he grins, seeming to notice your change in attitude.

"Would you mind elaborating a bit on that answer Mr Fushiguro?”

"Well, it’s like a drug really. It affects everyone differently. For some, love makes them weak and unable to act. Others become filled with a strong hatred towards the person they love. Some even fall ill and die from loving too much. Love is a fickle thing… a dangerous thing, and it ain’t for me. I guess you could call love my number 1 enemy. It’s a weakness that clouds a person’s judgement"

you nod your head, understanding his different point of view.

"I see. I’d still like to know though, what does love mean to you then? Is your answer still the same?”

his eyes avert to the ground, seemingly lost in thought till he speaks up again "Well if I were to describe it" he pauses before responding "I don’t know. But when I see other people who love each other, I feel I have understood what that feeling is. Maybe love isn’t just being obsessed with someone or wanting to be with them. It’s a lot of feelings put together. It’s a feeling you can’t describe. But sometimes you have to use your head and do the logical thing, not chase love or any of that nonsense. Sometimes the heart wants what it wants"

Megumi: he is instantly surprised by the question. It’s clear he was expecting everything except for this. "Oh well," he thinks for a moment "For me, love is the feeling of affection for someone or something you care about. In my opinion, love is when you want to be with someone and have their backs, no matter what or despite everything. You're also willing to do anything for the person you love. It doesn't mean, however, that you're gonna be possessive and obsessive. Love is more than just simple feelings. It's a connection, a commitment between two people." he says with a small smile on his face. it’s unusual for him to soften up like this.

you stare at him, astonished as to how he explained the concept of love in such a simle way "wonderfully said. then Megumi, what does love mean to you?”

he looks down at his hands, trying to gather his thoughts "I think my definition might be a little bit different from the one I already gave you. I think I'd define love as ‘a preciousness’. A preciousness that you want to treasure and protect. Something that you don't want to let go and will do anything to keep"

Yuji: he is perhaps, the most energetic out of the rest. he seems ready and eager to answer your questions. “love is something I still don’t quite understand yet. I guess to me, love is something that goes both ways. Both giving and receiving. I’ve learned that’s important. So, to love someone is to care about them, and to want to see them happy the way they want to see you happy.” he finishes with a bright smile

your heart warms at how pure his words feel. you cant help but smile along with him "im curious for your next answer. What does love mean to you Yuji?”

Yuji takes a deep breath. He looks up at you nervously "my answer is going to be really short, is that okay?" you smile and nod, signalling that that’s more than okay

"love, to me, is something more than a feeling. It’s an action. You can’t just say that you love someone. you have to show it with your actions as well. if someone loves someone, but they don’t do anything to show it, the other person won’t know. They won’t know how much you love and care for them.”

ⓒ all rights reserved. don't plagiarize my work or translate it!

Reblogs are appreciated 🫶🏽

[sleepingdeath-light]

relationship hcs ; astarion

requested by ; mod / self indulgent

fandom(s) ; baldur’s gate 3

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; astarion ancunin

outline ; “dating headcanons for astarion”

note ; i have never played this game and am going completely off of the clips and guide videos i’ve been watching pretty much nonstop for the past week so apologies if my characterisation is at all shaky in this piece

warning(s) ; brief references to canon torture, self worth struggles, and other related angst — but otherwise mostly fluff!

when it comes to being in a relationship with you — a real relationship, that is, and not the act he was putting on to try and manipulate you at the start of your journey as a group — astarion is, for lack of a better analogy, very much so a fish out of water

and, thankfully, that’s not something he’s ashamed or scared to admit to you, so the early days of your relationship are filled with a lot of trial and error as you navigate your new dynamic and he adjusts to being permitted to make his own decisions and set his own boundaries

some things definitely come easier than others for him — namely verbal shows of affection like using pet names for you or being playful or flirty whenever you’re together; things that are more instinct than anything else, but no less genuine in their use

as one might expect, astarion does also use quite the variety of pet names for you — to the extent that your friends have a running joke about him not actually knowing what your real name is (which he always refutes with about as much sass as one might expect) — with his main terms of endearment being ones that he settled into using early on like ‘darling’, ‘beautiful’ (or ‘handsome’ if that is your preferred term), ‘my dear’, and, when he’s being a bit of a tease, ‘my little treat’

actual physical intimacy, however, is a much different story given his rather unfortunate history with his body and how he was forced to use it by his tormentor

of course he knows that you’re different, that you’re not like cazador or his ilk, but that doesn’t make those old habits any easier to break, nor two hundred years of trauma easier to shake from his mind — love and patience can only go so far, after all, and those memories and their effects on him won’t just vanish overnight

so, naturally, that means that adjusting to physical touch unrelated to sex is a very slow process for him — though he’s thankful to have you there with him throughout

there are a few things that he learns he really quite enjoys and makes that abundantly clear to you when you’re together: kisses, gentle touches to the hand, and hugs, mainly

oh and his kisses are truly marvellous once you help him accept intimacy unconnected to sex — they’re soft and sweet but no less passionate for it, starting off with a brief peck before he turns his head and gently (oh so gently) grasps your chin or cheek or neck and pulls you closer to him, almost as if you’re melting into each other as the kiss either deepens or makes way for a string of chaste pecks before you eventually pull apart for whatever reason

he also always makes sure to sooth any places he’s bitten with some apologetic kisses once he’s had his fill (as well as plenty of compliments on your person and about your blood)

his other favourite places to kiss you are either on your hands or wrists (the gentleman that he is): the insides of your wrists, the tips of your fingers, each of your knuckles in sequence, the backs of your hands, your palms when you cup his face in your hands — truly the list is endless and he delights in finding new ways to fluster you and make you smile

shit talking and gossipping amongst yourselves is extremely common and astarion has mastered the art of saying just the right thing about someone he doesn’t like just loud enough for you to hear at the perfect time to make you laugh (or try your best to cover said laugh if you’re currently talking to the subject of said shit talking)

when it comes to sleeping arrangements, astarion just loves being held (but not too tightly so he still has the freedom to get up and walk away for whatever reason if he needs to), but the specifics of the position don’t really matter to him — he’s just as happy to have you laying on his chest, or him on yours if you’re larger than him, as he is to cuddle you on his side (though he does secretly prefer to either be the little spoon or to have his face level with your chest when you’re both on your sides as it makes him feel safer, though it will take him a long time to ever even consider admitting to that)

he is naturally very protective of you and has been known to pull a dagger on anyone he deems as a threat to you — which is very beneficial in combat scenarios or situations where you are actually at risk, but a bit inconvenient when you’re trying not to draw any attention to yourselves and the issue is just some drunk that can’t keep quiet (still not good and something that should be called out, but perhaps not worth having to leave the town you just got to early as to avoid getting charged with yet another crime)

he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself whenever you’re unwell for whatever reason (especially if it’s something a healer can’t contend with) because it’s been centuries since he’s experienced any sort of illness so he can’t even really empathise with you about your situation — he tries his best, of course, but it’s easy to tell that he’s really out of his depth

no matter how long the two of you have been together, astarion still melts whenever you ask his permission to do the smallest of things (like asking if you can kiss him or hold his hand, for example) — but he melts even more when you accept when he declines for whatever reason becaus the novelty of being respected and loved without expectation or conditions never really wears off for him and he appreciates it all just as much as he did the first time

[blouisparadise]

Today we have the fifth part of our short fic rec list! All of the fics on this list are a nice quick read that is less than 10k. If you missed the other parts to this rec list, you can find part one here, part two here, part three here, and part four here. Happy reading!

1) Shut Your Mouth, Baby | Explicit | 3,028 words

While fooling around in a closet at a New Year’s Eve party, Louis can’t seem to keep quiet. All he needs to do is hold off until midnight, when Harry will finally uncover his mouth and let him come at full volume.

2) Heaven In These Sheets | Explicit | 3,557 words

Bunny Hybrid Louis has it out for his boyfriend’s phone.

3) Tide’s Deathless Death | Explicit | 4,350 words

The Red Serpent gleamed in all of her marvellous glory from where she was anchored a meagre few miles away from the land. Her flag waving proudly in the afternoon sun. The image was certainly memorable, of the flag, that is; a serpent coiled viciously around a human heart, fangs sunken into the organ and blood oozing from the very spot. If not for the ship herself, the flag had its own repute of conveying the message that the captain was not to be trifled with. There was no single man who had survived after taking up arms against the captain. Well, there was one man, but including him amongst the hoard of common faces would be a foolishness on the feared-by-all captain’s part. That man currently stood silently staring after the captain, palm curled around the handle of his blade, and teeth clenched in anger. He was certainly going to relieve all the navies of their plight by taking down the captain. At least then, in his relatively newfound life of piracy, he would have done one good deed.

4) Always Tell The Truth | Not Rated | 5,027 words

Harry is Louis’ dentist and getting a wisdom tooth removed shouldn’t be the end of the world.

5) I Knew It From The Start | Explicit | 5,233 words

Louis starts calling Harry ‘daddy’. Consequently, Harry discovers that he has a daddy kink.

6) Spaces Between Us, Hold All Our Secrets | Not Rated | 6,441 words

The thing about Harry is, is that he is the most wonderful guy you´ll ever meet. He is kind, compliments you on things you are usually insecure about, which shows he truly pays attention to who you are as a person. And he befriends everyone. Except Louis.

7) Outline Of My Sins | Explicit | 6,551 words

Prompt 453: AU where alpha Harry is an art student who is taking a figure drawing class and omega Louis is the nude model. In the many years that Harry has taken art classes, he has never been more hot and bothered than now, having to stare at a beautiful nude omega model for hours.

8) Shouldn’t Cry (But I Love It) | Explicit | 6,586 words

They're roommates. They're quarantined. There's a small problem coming up.

9) Your Name Is Tattooed To The Bottom Of My Heart | Explicit | 6,613 words

Prompt 114: a PWP where Louis gets an arse tattoo with Harry’s name for his birthday.

10) Leave Like The Summer Breeze | Explicit | 6,551 words

When Louis and Zayn are stranded in Alabama, a farmer offers them shelter. He just asks for one thing in return.

11) Smile for the Camera for It Knows Everything, Hollywood Star| Mature | 6,676 words

Prompt 132- The story of Nancy Reagan being called the blowjob queen of Hollywood but it’s Louis.

12) The Writing On the Wall | Explicit | 6,705 words

When BookToker Louis receives a gift basket filled with all his favorite sweets, wines, and stuffed animals alongside the new Harry Styles book, he’s shocked at the story he finds in the pages.

13) Muffins & Cigarettes| Mature | 7,591 words

Louis pouts. “You can’t pout your way into this, Louis”, Harry said as he was fixing his tie, watch and rings glinting against the soft sunlight filtering through the window. “Of course, I can. Watch me.”

14) The Knothead Neighbor| Mature | 8,058 words

Prompt 3: Neighbors AU, preferably ABO! Harry works evenings/nights (maybe like a surgeon something that requires him to be gone for long hours) and has a cat. The cat has a little kitty door at the back so that it can explore and such. Louis just moved next door and the cat seems to always end up at his door. Eventually, Louis lets the cat in, as he’s new and he’s feeling quite lonely. They become fast friends, so much so that the cat prefers to stay with Louis rather than go home. Harry gets concerned that the cat starts to stay out all day/night so he eventually leaves a note attached to the cat’s collar with its name and phone number. Louis texts him telling him he’s his neighbor and not to worry, the cat just likes to hang with him as it might be lonely. Harry gets pissed that this stranger is stealing his cat so he goes to confront Louis and tell him to stop stealing his cat. Of course, as soon as he sees Louis, he falls in love with him and the rest is history. (If ABO could be cute that both Harry and Louis like to cuddle with the cat because it holds the other’s scent)

15) Kiss It Better | Explicit | 8,080 words

Harry shakes his head with a light laugh and leans down to kiss him again which Louis happily accepts even if he is a little confused by the reaction. "Baby, not a night has gone by that I haven't thought about you in my bed, naked, and begging for my cock." Blinking up at him with wide eyes, Louis opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out. While they did flirt a lot over the last few weeks, Harry had never said anything like that. It shocks him as much as it turns him on. "News to me." "I won't lie and say I like random hookups or casual sex, but to me this isn't what that is." Louis swallows thickly, unsure of what to say to that but once again Harry gives him an out. "So, If you want we can stay up here and I can show you all the things I've thought about doing to you." Another kiss, quick and sweet. "Or, we can go back downstairs and we'll dance all night."

16) Could Start A Cult | Explicit | 8,750 words

He lowers down the top that Louis is wearing, successfully unclasping his nursing bra as well, letting Louis’ tits bounce at the sudden movement. Harry massages both breasts to stimulate the milk flow, and he can feel his cock hardening inside his pants.

17) Should Be, Meant To Be | Explicit | 9,174 words

Prompt #65: Louis signs up for a Sugar Daddy dating website on a drunken dare. He forgets for a while, until one night he gets a notification for a message request from none other than his really hot (really rich) boss, Harry Styles.

18) Into It | Explicit | 9,197 words

Louis meets Harry. They hit it off.

19) Something To Prove | Explicit | 9,425 words

Louis is the first and only omega to work at Red Valley Medical Center. Despite being more than qualified, he still faces prejudice for his career choice everyday. From patients refusing his treatment to condescending alpha doctors intervening with his work, practicing medicine in Boston is more challenging than Louis had ever thought it would be.

20) Sugar Water | Explicit | 9,454 words

When his most familiar begins to feel all too unfamiliar, Harry finds out what it means to love like real people do.

21) Hook You Up (Charm You Down) | Explicit | 9,600 words

Swiftly, Harry raises his right hand to his head. Bringing two ringed fingers up, he touches the brown hat sitting on his head, tipping it with a raise of eyebrows in the direction of Peter Pan. He punctuates the whole action with his signature smirk. The reaction is almost immediate. Like Harry hoped it’d be. Though he expected the grin he received, he can’t say he directly expected the man to come forward his way. But he surely isn’t going to complain. “Captain! Fancy seeing you there,” Peter Pan says when he reaches Harry’s space. And wow. Seeing it from up close, Niall was right. Face of an angel, totally Harry’s type and all that. 

22) Poppies In May | Mature | 9,603 words

And maybe he deserves it, Louis thinks bitterly. His hand curls around the fence tightly, and he feels like if he lets go he’ll slid onto the cold ground and never fucking get up again. Maybe standing here, staring at Harry’s hunched over, retreating back is what he deserves.

23) Wanna Do Nothing With You | Explicit | 9,606 words

The accident happens in the stupidest way possible. One minute Louis is demonstrating a skateboard trick he’d just learned for Lottie, the next he’s waking up in a hospital. He’s told that he wasn’t unconscious the entire ride, but he has absolutely no recollection of it. One second he’s fucking around in his own garden and the next he’s being assaulted with the strong sterile scent of a hospital. So. There’s that.

24) Hello, My Name is Louis | Explicit | 9,686 words

Louis hurried to hang up the phone and take off his headset, throwing it away as if it was burning hot. He hugged himself by the shoulders and hid his face in his knees, sitting in his desk chair like a swimmer ready to dip into a pool, a pool of embarrassment. Not many people got past "Hello, my name is… " and even fewer engaged in a full conversation with him. And if they did, it usually went better than this.

25) Got It Right Such A Long Time Ago | Explicit | 9,699 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

There are a lot of people Harry might expect to find on his doorstep at three o’clock in the afternoon these days. It could be the delivery man, come to drop off the pair of boots Harry impulsively ordered online last week. It could be one of his neighbors, dropping by to complain about how a party he’d thrown weeks ago had clogged up the street. It could also be any number of his friends in L.A., who stop by unannounced most days to mooch off Harry’s food or whisk him away to try some new yogurt shop.    As a rule, it definitely cannot be Louis Tomlinson, although Harry’s blinked at least three times now, and it’s still Louis standing there, a backpack slung over his shoulder and a duffel bag at his feet.

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[always-andromeda]

-ˋˏ 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆, 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆, 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆 ˎˊ-

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠・Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭・2,720

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲・There are many difficult memories Joel associates with his birthday. Ones that he's attempted to forget for about twenty years. You attempt to give him a birthday to remember.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞・(credit to @saradika for the adorable dividers, please check her resources out!!) happy birthday, Joel; you deserve everything and more, babygirl. ♡

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬・post-outbreak universe, angst, comfort and fluff, pet names (darlin'), mentions of alcohol, lots of feelings lmao, those are all I can think of!

Eyes fluttering open, you drowsily felt the space on the bed beside you. The sheets had long since lost the warmth of the man that normally slept with you. You groaned. Of course Joel had to sign himself up for a patrol on his birthday of all days.

But you truly couldn't blame him. Though it had been a little over a year since he and Ellie had returned to settle in Jackson, he was still working his ass off like a new arrival; like he still had something to prove. As if Tommy hadn't vouched for his usefulness to the community dozens of times. As if Joel himself hadn't shown how he'd seemingly perfected the art of survival.

You'd learned why he was like this a year prior; when Joel had only been around for a few months. Back then he was merely a patrol partner who you'd found yourself catching the eye of from time to time. Back then he chuckled softly at your jokes and offered up little bits and pieces of his own history whenever the conversation called for it.

Then came the day that Tommy said it; the thing that made your heart break for his older brother.

"Damn...September 26th..." he'd sighed and whistled before taking a swig from his beer.

You sat on the stool next to him, swirling your own drink and throwing him a sideways glance. "Yeah, what's so special about today's date?"

Tommy looked down, then he explained, "It's Joel's birthday. How old is that bastard now?" a tight light smile formed on his lips as he seemed to reminisce. "Fifty-seven, I think?"

"Goddamn," you muttered. "Why didn't you tell me? I would've gotten something for him."

Tommy shook his head. An immediate sadness appeared across his features as he said, "Nah, he hasn't really made a big deal out of his birthday since...well...since ever, really. But he especially doesn't like talkin' about it these days."

"Why?"

Swallowing hard, Tommy answered, "A little over twenty years ago today was when the outbreak first started. And it was the day that Sarah passed."

Tommy had talked about Sarah a few times. He remembered his niece very fondly and with Maria's encouragement, made it a point to not let her memory be forgotten. After all, it was the memory of Sarah and anyone else lost to the virus that drove the community to continue on; to keep fighting for those who were still there.

But this time, her memory seemed to haunt him. Right now, Sarah wasn't a heartening symbol. She was a reminder of everything he'd lost – everything that Joel had lost – when the world fell apart. A reminder of just how hard both brothers tried to hold onto the scraps and how hard they fought to forge something new for themselves.

"Oh," you breathed out.

"Yeah," Tommy said. "He figured that it didn't seem right to him. To celebrate his life on the day that she lost hers. So..." he trailed off, searching for his words.

You stopped him with a pursed smile and a compassionate hand on his shoulder. "It's alright. I get it."

And you truly did. It made sense that Joel wanted to keep himself busy. Plenty of folks did that; couldn't dwell on the past as long as you kept moving. The simple answer, however, was that Joel didn't trust any of it.

Sure, Jackson was beautiful; truly a marvel of human spirit and ingenuity. But you always caught how unsettled Joel seemed, head kept low, eyes up at all times, checking to see if and when he needed to scoop Ellie up and jump ship. Decades of fighting for survival had turned him into a warrior. It had also turned him into a recluse; a closed-off, touch-starved old dog that bared its teeth when approached but still whined in relief when you scratched behind its ear. Every little bit of love you gave seemed to hurt as much as it helped.

Which is why you were determined to do something on this day. Something that would hopefully numb that pain a little more and get him more used to feeling the tenderness of real intimacy with someone.

It wasn’t easy. Once you had confirmed that Joel had indeed gone out, you got dressed and ran through your mental list of all the different vendors on main street that you needed to visit.

Though Jackson offered a range of luxuries, almost all of them came at a pretty decent price. A few hours in and you’d traded practically half of your things away to gather up the supplies to put together a present and a modest party. When Tommy caught you trading in one of your winter coats for a brand new pair of boots Joel's size and you told him of your plan, he almost looked nervous.

You second guessed yourself for a minute. Tommy had known Joel for much, much longer than you had. Maybe he knew better than you. But something inside assured you that this time around...you definitely knew better.

Quickly quelling the nerves dancing under your skin, you joked, "Don't worry, I'm not doing anything too fancy. I've got these boots, some new strings for that guitar of his, and after this, I'm gonna head down to the cafeteria and pick up some of those special dark roast coffee beans he likes. Just some little practical things. Don't wanna give the birthday boy a heart attack."

Tommy laughed, "He ain't had a birthday in over two decades, girlie; puttin' those alone in front of him might send him into cardiac arrest," he nodded towards the boots on the counter before you.

They were very nice. The kind of thing Joel always hesitated to get himself. During his year in town, you were pretty sure you'd only seen him replace his shoes once. And when he did, they were a well worn pair that had been tucked away deep in the town's clothing storages. Almost every day you got to see the ugly pair of boots stationed by your front door, rubber soles caked in dried mud and already starting to pull away from the rest of the shoe. 

You scoffed, "Then so be it, because he needs these. He needs this."

Perhaps it was a little selfish of you. But you wanted to spoil him. More than anything you wanted him to feel just how much you loved him. Neither you or him had said it, always too afraid to speak those feelings aloud. The world had become too dangerous for such open affection. But you could show it. You could show how much you loved him.

"Okay, if you say so," Tommy replied hopefully. "Good luck on your little mission."

You appreciated his encouragement and smiled to yourself as you stowed the boots away in your wagon with the rest of your birthday stash. Perhaps you could make this birthday one that Joel actually wanted to remember.

The sun went down slowly, showering your kitchen in golden warmth. As much as you normally loved seeing the sunset, this time it made you nervous as it gradually faded into the darkness of night.

With your eye flickering between the clock and the front door, you were getting nervous all over again. You'd anticipated Joel spending the day out, but you hadn't expected him to be gone for this long. How many jobs had he signed himself up for that day?

The longer you lingered on the question, the more you doubted yourself. What if this was too much? What if it offended him? After all, in all the time you'd known him, he'd been a stubborn man, stuck in his ways. And this had been his way for so long. Who were you to interrupt that?

The urge to scrap the whole idea and pretend you'd never made the effort in the first place was strong. It would be embarrassing to explain that you had nothing to show for your day if and when Joel came home and asked about it. But surely it would be less embarrassing than facing rejection from him. 

Before you could do anything impulsive, the door swung open, causing you to jump from your spot on the couch.

"Sorry I'm so late," Joel explained. "One of the horses kicked a fence in at the stable and Tony wanted to get it fixed before tomorrow so I stayed back to help."

Judging by his rumpled curls, tired eyes, and the stench of sweat and wood shavings that clung to him, you could tell he'd physically worn himself out that day. And you cringed internally knowing you were most likely about to wear him down emotionally as well.

"That's okay," you replied, trying to put on a chipper tone. "I'm sure Tony really appreciated your help."

"Damn right he did," Joel smirked before pulling his arm out from behind his back. In his hand was a bottle that you quickly recognized.

"Holy shit, where'd he get this?" you marveled, taking the bottle of wine from him and turning it in your hand as if it was a mirage. It was a Cabernet Sauvignon with a fancy cream colored label and gold text. You couldn't remember the last time you'd seen something this fancy that was actually intact.

"That fucker's got a whole load of alcohol from before the outbreak. Said he'd give me this one if I promised not to tell Maria about his stash," Joel chuckled.

"Yeah, no kidding," you said before pausing and looking back up at him. "Wait, Tony gets the stable guys to help him out all the time. Is he giving them all secret complimentary bottles of alcohol?"

"Actually," Joel began hesitantly, turning away to take off his boots and shed his jacket. "He said this was a special favor. Told me to go home and have a drink with my lady."

Coming from Tony, the sentiment would've made you roll your eyes. But coming out of Joel's mouth with that smooth-like-molasses Texan accent, it had you melting. At the end of the day, there was always something so warming being known as his.

As much as you knew about Joel's past through his own admissions, it was moments like these that let you know he'd changed so much since those days. Now, he was a good man. A good man who the community could depend upon. And more importantly, man who you could trust with everything...maybe even sappy displays of affection.

With reinvigorated confidence, you took his hand in yours and led him into the kitchen. Before he could ask what you were up to, you said, "Well, if Tony is so insistent on us having a good night, let me make it a little better."

Joel still seemed a little confused, his deep brown puppy dog eyes framed by furrowed brows as he watched you open the fridge and reached in to grab something. 

In your hands was a simple cake set neatly in the middle of a glass platter. Under the layer of buttercream frosting were two layers of cake along with strawberry jam between them. The jam had been another trade you felt privileged to acquire. One of the women in town, Bonnie, made jams for every season. The strawberry jam you'd acquired was her last jar from the summer harvest. And you hoped and prayed with everything in you that you hadn't messed up the cake and frosting recipe you'd borrowed from her.

Setting those worries aside, you put on a small smile before setting the dish down on the kitchen counter before him. Joel stared down at it, a volatile expression on his face.

"I couldn't find any of those fancy little number candles, so we'll have to stick with the regular ones I have in my junk drawer. Though it would be funny if I just stuck fifty-eight candles on there," you rambled. "Not that fifty-eight candles would fit on there anyways. Or that you could even blow out fifty eight candles all at once–"

Joel cut through your halfhearted attempt to diffuse the tension and muttered, "How did you know?"

"Tommy told me–"

"Of course he did," Joel cut you off with a hint of exasperation.

"Wait, before you start planning on drilling him a new one, just hear me out. Because he told me about how hard this day is for you. And don't worry, I completely understand it. But...I–" you chose your words cautiously, "–care about you...a lot. And I wanted to celebrate you. I know you think that you don't deserve it. But I believe you do."

"Darlin'...this is..." Joel trailed off with a sigh.

You took a deep breath. It's now or never.

Finally, you said the magic words you'd held inside for far too long, "I love you, Joel."

He blinked hard a few times, processing this new information before it started to click. For the first time ever, you thought, you were seeing Joel Miller get nervous. You'd seen shades of uncertainty wash across his worn face, but never had you seen such boy-ish anxiety like this. With soft, glossy eyes and slightly quivering lip, he looked so different. He looked like a man unburdened by the world and his past; only weighed down by the crippling realization of just how much he was valued. You decided it was the most raw and beautiful side of him you'd seen so far.

You repeated firmly, "I love you so much. And I want to show you that love. Even if you've got nothing else in the world...you can have that. You get to have all of my love."

That made his head hang and his shoulders sag. You couldn't tell if this was a good thing or not. So you walked around the island and approached him gently.

"Are you okay, Joel?"

He lifted his head just enough for you to see that there were a few stray tears falling down his cheek. He wiped them away and sniffled before bringing himself to meet your gaze. With a wobbly smile playing on his lips, he whispered hoarsely, "I'm fine, darlin'. I'm just...I'm glad to have ya."

You wrapped your arms around him. And as he returned the gesture, he let himself bury his head in your neck. His tall, broad frame curled around you. The marble statue he seemed to be normally had crumbled away. Here he was all softness, all warmth, all yours.

With his lips beside your ear, you heard him murmur softly, "I love you too, darlin'."

Your chest swelled with joy so intensely that for a second you were sure that you were the one who would be having a heart attack. But even as tears threatened to spill from your own eyes, you forced yourself to take deep, even breaths to calm yourself down.

As the emotional fog of the moment cleared from your mind, you remembered the rest of your plan. With a start you pulled back from him and said excitedly, "I have some presents for you too!"

"Multiple presents," Joel laughed to himself. "Goddamn, woman, you've really thought of it all, haven't you?"

"Yep," you replied proudly. "I have."

"Well, run along and get 'em. I'll crack open this bottle and get out the glasses. Then I'll take a look at your presents."

"Deal!" you said before pressing a deep kiss on Joel's lips that was sure to make his head spin.

He watched you hurry upstairs with another quiet laugh. Turning to take another look at your handiwork, he thought back to the time before all this. A time when something like your modest cake would've been normal. But these days...to put time and effort into such displays was a rarity, a privilege. To him, however, it was doubly so, considering the fact that it was coming from you.

The warm glow filling his bones was unfamiliar. But this time he wasn't afraid of it. For once, he wanted to embrace it. It wasn't often that a guy like him got the love of a creature so special. And he intended to cherish it for as long as he possibly could.

[the-fiction-witch]

Just To Spite You

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Flirty AF

Requested: Hi, I would like to request something It's for the jack Dawkins book The reader's father is throwing a party and invites a lot of people including jack , the reader's enemy. They hate each other, the thing is there is such a thick tension between them they can't deny it but it has to be a secret 

I stood at the top of the staircase doing my best to hold my breath and keep out of view. I looked down at myself in my little heeled shoes too tight for my feet, my tight stockings, my endless crinoline, bird cage of wicker, petticoats, my corset on tight enough to strangle me, and my huge uncomfortable gold glittering ballgown around me, the top off my shoulders but tight to my skin so much it would truly mark me, my long sheer glittering butterfly sleeves almost to the floor, A band of teal blue ribbon around my waist, my hem and as a choker around my neck. I had skin-tight white gloves to my elbows already glimmering from the glitter that had fallen from my dress, a ring around my finger with a large blue gem attached to the bottom my dress so I would not have to hold it to move or dance, My hair had taken hours or meticulous combing and curling and now allowed to hang freely down my back. I hated to look at myself. I felt uncomfortable. Out of place. But this is what my father wants for tonight... 

Tonight was my father's Grand ball he holds each year, and this year I was a grand piece of it. 

I had always been a decoration for his grand balls but tonight was different I know my father is desperate to wed me off before I will begin to be labelled as an old maid or thornback, it already brought him such rage that I was even a spinster.  

"If I may announce, formally. My daughter Miss Y/n Y/M/N Y/l/N!" He called out and the party began to applaud. 

I sighed and stepped slowly down the stairs knowing the sort of madness if I were to trip or worse fall down the stairs. I stopped at the landing of the stairs looking out the the party, full of eligible men and a few couples of high local importance. They all looked impressed by me but I just felt awful. As soon as I could I grabbed a drink and hid myself in a corner trying to not be passed or looked at much, not easy in this glitter of a gown. 

Men often came up to me to greet me so I forced a smile and a nod a drank more. 

"Having fun?" A smirking voice spoke up I glanced to my side and saw a familiar sight... admittedly He'd cleaned up. 

Dr Jack Dawkins leant on the wall a pair of well-shined shoes, black trousers, and his usual shirt but it was actually white. Good god I didn't know he still owned any that were still white and not an off-grey from washing blood out, a light cream waistcoat with a slight teardrop pattern to it, a white tie around his neck and a black jacket folded over his arm, his hair well fixed without its usual fluffy frizz and his hands clean... or well as clean as one can get a surgeon's hands without bathing them in acid. 

"Ohh yes, Thrilling." I sighed downing the rest of my drink at the mere idea of the two of us having to... be nice to one another. 

"You're father's gone all out."

"He will. He does. He's a social man."

"And you're a recluse."

"I am not a social recluse Dr Dawkins, I meer wish to spend my time socializing with people with high intellect and important things to say."

"That's why you're talking to me?" he smirked,

"No. You are neither of those things so if you could kindly take your buggery blonde butt elsewhere that would be... Marvellous." I sighed as I saw a drinks tray go past so I quickly took one and so did he, 

"Pompous Old maid" he muttered

"Butcher."

"Whiner"

"Coot"

"Witch"

"Uneducated scoundrel"

"Patronizing Princess"

"irritating malevolent"

"Snobbish toffee nose"

"illiterate Phiilistine"

"exasperating Spinster"

"Crude vagabond" I complained, "will you go away!"

"I would, however, every woman here is married, courting or an utter idiot. And at least you can hold a conversation."

"Even if I'm going to insult you."

"Insult me all you want just please don't talk about bloody flowers. I can't hear anymore." 

"What are you doing here anyway?"

"You're father invited me."

"Why? He knows about my... feelings towards you."

"I believe he mistakes our hatred for sexual tension," he said, 

"Why would he do that?"

"At least he sees you talking to me, even if we are arguing. And let's face it most husbands and wives are like this after five years so... maybe he just thinks we are getting a head start" he said sipping his drink

"You are one of the most insufferable men I have ever met Mr Dawkins."

"Dr Dawkins. You're going to insult me you can do it correctly Sweetheart."

"Do not call me sweetheart!" I glared 

"Why? Are you gonna fight me in your glittery little dress sweetheart?" He smirked moving closer and bending himself to make eye contact like you would with a child given he was a whole head taller than me "Or better yet take it off and we can go upstairs."

My response was to simply throw my drink in his face and march off elsewhere. 

Unfortunately, I was found by my father who forced me to begin the usual nonsense, I now had to dance with any man who asked it of me and of course many did. I found it utterly nauseating being held and dancing with these men only interested in me for my father's money all while on display to everyone meaning if I pulled a face or acted up everyone would know. Luckily it would soon be over as most of the eligible men invited I had now danced with. 

This man finished up with me kissed my gloved hand and returned to his friends, leaving me before him.

Jack stood with a wide smirk his jacket now back on he bowed and offered his hand, I did my best to hide my face but I'm sure I turned red with anger. 

"Don't you dare," I whispered letting him take my hand and giving it a sweet kiss 

"Ohh I will princess. Just to spite you" He smirked holding my hand in his own he grabbed my waist and forced me close enough I could feel the buttons on his jacket, I sighed and moved my hand to his shoulder, 

"I am going to dispice every moment of this."

"I think I'm going to enjoy it," he smirked as we began to dance, he lead of course even if at times I did fight with him luckily many others danced too so we could speak even in hushed tones and I didn't have to be as careful hiding my emotions 

"Do you have to hold me so tight my father will get angry?"

"Ohh that's the plan, I want us to be close."

"Why?"

"well half because I can make your father suspicious, and I can see down your dress."

"You just get more and more insufferable don't you Dr dawkins."

"Ohh I do, it's awfully fun." He chuckled "Christ I can feel the glitter on your dress flaking off in my hand" 

"Perhaps I shall send you home glittery and sparkling,"

"You would wouldn't you."

"I would. Just to spite you."

"God even your perfume is infuriating" he whispered in a sly tone as we danced doing a good spin or two, 

"Ohh I live for the moments you spin me away, Dr Dawkins,"

"Ohh why do you get a moment of peace from my arms?"

"No, because for a few brief seconds, I don't have to smell your blood-laden aftershave." 

"Perhaps I smell bloody because I'm a vampire about to bite your neck sweetheart."

"You bite my neck, and I chop your dick off," I said purposely forcing him to spin me out but he quickly spun me back into his chest

"Ooohh feisty" He smirked 

"At least my drink somewhat covers your aftershave."

"Well then I thank you for making me more palatable" 

"Ohh you're far from palatable." 

"You know, you're not a bad dancer."

"Neither are you, surprisingly." I sighed "How did you get this good?"

"So I'm good am I?"

"For a butcher."

"I was in the navy, you'd be surprised how many officer's balls you attend. You pick things up."

"I imagine all the ladies wanted to dance with you,"

"Ohh they did, but I save my skills for the pretty ones."

"so I'm pretty am I?"

"Gorgeous Sweetheart." He whispered 

"Don't call me sweetheart." I glared digging my nails into his hand 

"You are adorable when your are angry, like a little pixie."

"One of these days Dr. Dawkins, you're going to wake up with me over you."

"Ohh I'm betting I will" he smirked 

"And I shall drive your own scalpel into your heart." 

"Ohhh sweetheart, such a violent little thing you are." He smirked, "Just remember you do anything to me, I will haunt your every waking moment, I will be the face you see in your nightmares and trust me you'll be having nothing but."

"Just dance doctor." I sighed 

"Why? Are you enjoying our dance? or do you just like a man having you in his arms."

"I've been dancing in men's arms all night."

"Not boys. A Man sweetheart." 

"Ohh I would love too, shame I don't see any men here tonight."

"One of these days I'm going to have you tied down on my operating table."

"Ohh? Didn't know you were into that sort of thing Dr Dawkins."

"Ohhh you'd be surprised by the sorts of things I'm into."

"Ohh getting rejected by little ladies? even after you saved their lives."

"You know. I'm a doctor."

"As you keep saying."

"One of these days you'll need my help, you'll be laid on my table, and only I will be able to save you."

"Ohh? And you'll let me die I suppose out of pure spite?"

"No." he smirked as we finished our dance he took a step back and brought my hand to his lips giving it a firm kiss never breaking eye contact "I'd ensure you live. Just to spite you." He smiled "Goodnight Miss Y/l/n"

"Goodnight Dr Dawkins."

"It was a pleasure," he smiled wickedly before he headed back into the main mess of the party. 

Ohh, my god... I hate that man. 

why does he have to be so..... Ughhh! there isn't been a word for that man! 

I fixed my dress a little before I noticed.

MY RING! 

It's gone! 

Ohh and I know just the slippery eel who took it. 

"Miss if I may-" A man began trying to dance with me

"Not now." I snapped lifting my dress and marching through the party to find Dr Dawkins, and I spotted him leaving the main room so I rushed after him grabbed his jacket and yanked him into the music room empty for this evening 

"What the hell!" He yelled 

"My ring I know you stole it!"

"I haven't stolen anything." 

"Liar!"

"Ohh you come to admit I've stolen your heart?"

"Give me my ring Jack! it was my mother's give it back." 

He rolled his eyes and handed me my ring back 

"You are... the most unendurable peacockish Lobcock of a man I have ever had the misfortune of meeting!"

"You are the most horrendous upstart of a woman I have ever met!"

Both of us were red in the face from yelling, our blood boiling I wanted to kill him to throw him across the room but I grabbed his shirt and he grabbed my face and we kissed with more passion and heat than I had ever felt in a kiss, his lips soft and gentle as we slowly kissed in utter silence. It was... the most amazing kiss of my life. 

We stopped and moved away from each other both of us gasping and trying to comprehend what just happened between us. 

"What the hell was that..."

"I have no idea."

"Do you wanna fight me or fuck me jack!"

"I don't know!"

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I don't know. you're a ...complicated woman and you make me feel... Complicated"

"Complicated?"

"Some days, I swear to god I could strangle you! but... I also want to hold you and kiss you"

"I...I admit I want to slap you so so badly but... I also really want to kiss you." I answered, "Did you wanna do it again?"

"God yes!" He gasped pulling me back to his lips, I happily kissed him back stroking his neck and tugging on his hair, and he backed me against the closed door "Ummm you evil little witch! all this time all you've done is wind me up, I want you. I need you. I swear to god I will tie you to my bed tonight and have my way with you kicking and screaming if I have to."

"I want you too. I need you too. I want you forced on my bed until you beg me for mercy"

"Ohh I wouldn't beg you for mercy. Just to spite you."

"Then I'd never scream just to spite you." 

"Ohh I'll make you scream sweetheart."

"Don't call me sweetheart."

"Ohh I will," he smirked 

"We must stop"

"We must."

"I don't want to."

"Me either."

"But we must." I gasped moving away "We must. We... we must build a wall between us. These emotions they must... never be revealed."

"No... they mustn't" he nods 

I found myself unable to not stare but he also couldn't help it, as we stood five feet from each other wanting nothing more than to be in each other's arms 

"Beleive me... if your father and his party were not on the other side of that door." He said, "I would throw you on this floor and ruin you." 

"As would I you." I answered "But... we cannot. People will hear. people will talk. We can never be together."

"Why not? this is a ball to find you a husband isn't it?"

"why would I ever want to be married to you!"

"Because we can't resist each other. You know it. I know it. Our anger has always been just boiling tension... take my hand. and come with me to see your father. Let me marry you. and I swear our lives will be nothing but enthralled passion and ecstasy." 

"I do not wish to be married."

"And you can't avoid it. you know you can't your father will wed you to the first of those boys who ask... and you know your life could be infuriating if you were married. At least if you marry me you know it will be."

"Passion made fade in time."

"If it does... it will be too late. I will be yours. your will be mine. I do not imagine our passion fading but if it does, I will keep you in my arms, love you endlessly, and make love to you with the passion of tonight. Just to spite you."

"if we were to marry, you must understand that I will have to trust you... and if you break it Dr dawkins. I will see to it that your life is miserable and I will never ever give you peace, just to spite you."

"Understood. marry me. Be my bride. And I swear I will suffer with you all of my days." he said taking my hands 

"....Marry me. Make me your bride... so we can suffer this fate together for the rest of our lives." I stroked across his face 

He pulled me to his lips and we kissed with such hunger, such passion and love.

"I love you sweetheart,"

"Love you too Jack." I smiled laying my head on his chest and he rested his chin on my head 

"Come on then, let's go see your father before some boy tries to snap you up, sweetheart."

"Alright jack" I smiled holding his arm as we returned to the party. 

[sstar-ggirl]

The Lights shine brighter when you’re there.

Pairing: Alex Turner x AFAB!reader (but u can read as wtv u want)

Word count:1081 (this ain’t a blurb ts a fic atp😭💀)

Summary: filming for TBHC, 2018 era, super cute fluff shit

Mars rambles abt things: AIGHT SO I NEED THIS MAN TERRIBLY BAD. ESPECIALLY TBHC ALEX😭. Anyways I wrote a cute little fluff fic for the first time in forever bc I had time(FINALLY) anyways I’ll try to write as much as I can.

The set was abuzz with anticipation as Alex Turner prepared to film the music video for his latest album. Surrounded by a team of producers and filming crew, he couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement for this particular project. The album was a supposed to be “a playful tune, super smooth but makes you feel expensive”he said when you asked about it. It carried a personal touch that resonated deeply with him – and he had the perfect person to share the screen with, his girlfriend, you. His most prized possession, something he wants to show off forever.

As the cameras started rolling, the set was transformed into a mesmerizing, eye catching jazz bar. The director, recognizing the unique connection between Alex and you, aimed to capture not just the essence of the song but also the genuine emotion shared between you two. The first scene unfolded in a dimly lit but well decorated jazz bar, the air heavy with the lingering notes of the melody.

Alex, dressed in his signature 70s style, met you in the center of the set, dressed in a tight black dress with a long slit in the side, black heels with gold accessories. There was an unspoken understanding between you two, a silent agreement to let the music guide the movements. As the haunting notes filled the room, you two moved with a fluidity that spoke of a deep, unspoken connection. It was more than just a regular dance; it was a dance of the heart.

The director, observing from behind the monitors, couldn't help but marvel at the chemistry on display. The raw emotion conveyed through his and your expressions painted a vivid picture of love and longing. The first scene wrapped, leaving everyone on set with a sense of anticipation for what was to come.

During a break, Alex and you found a quiet corner to steal a moment away from the commotion. You two shared a deep hug and kiss, acknowledging the magic that was created by you two. As you two broke from the kiss, Alex couldn't help but express his gratitude for having you by his side.

"(Y/N), you brought something special to this video, in fact this whole album – something only you could inspire. It's like the songs, the lyrics, the melodies come to life when you're here, or at home or sitting in the studio waiting for me to wrap up. You are truly the muse for my art." he confessed, his eyes reflecting sincerity.

You grinned and blushed, "Well, I happen to think your music brings out the best in me too, Alex. This is a great masterpiece in every sense."

As the day progressed, the scenes became more diverse, each one telling a different chapter of the song's story. From a rooftop overlooking the casino to a dimly lit jazz bar to the pool setting, the couple seamlessly transitioned from one setting to another, their connection intensifying with each passing frame.

The highlight of the video was a sequence where Alex and you found yourselves dancing under a canopy of fairy lights. The soft glow accentuated the tenderness in your movements, creating a visual poetry that mirrored the song's emotional depth. The crew watched in awe as the couple moved through the enchanting scene, your silhouettes etched against the twinkling lights.

As the day drew to a close, the final scene approached. The director wanted to capture an intimate moment between Alex and you that would serve as the emotional climax of the video. The setting was a quiet, candlelit room – a metaphorical space where their love could unfold without any distractions. A safe haven that hides all troubles and shows your true self to eachother.

The room was adorned with vintage furniture and flickering candles, casting a warm glow on as you two stood face to face. The soft strains of the song echoed in the background, creating a cocoon of intimacy around you. The director, satisfied with the day's work, whispered instructions to the cinematographer, signaling the start of the final scene.

With a subtle nod, the cameras began to roll, capturing the delicate nuances of the couple's expressions. Alex gently reached for your hand, his touch conveying a silent reassurance. His eyes locked, and in that moment, the world outside the set ceased to exist. It was just the two of them, immersed in the emotions the song evoked.

As the lyrics unfolded, Alex sang with a soul-stirring resonance, his voice intertwining with yours in a beautiful harmony. The vulnerability in your eyes told a story of love, heartbreak, and the unspoken promise of togetherness. The director, realizing the magic happening before him, chose to let the scene unfold organically, without interrupting the flow.

The room seemed to disappear, replaced by a realm where only your emotions mattered. Alex's thumb traced gentle circles on your hand, a silent gesture of comfort. Your closeness spoke volumes, transcending the scripted nature of the scene. It was a genuine moment, an unfiltered expression of the love they shared.

As the last notes of the song lingered in the air, the director called for a cut. The crew erupted into applause, acknowledging the authenticity and beauty captured in that final scene. Alex momentarily pulled out of that intimate bubble, shared a knowing smile, proud of the art you two had created together. You couldn’t stop staring at him falling deep in love within each second.

With the filming wrapped, the couple found themselves outside the studio, bathed in the soft glow of the evening. The air was crisp, and the city lights twinkled in the distance. They walked hand in hand, reflecting on the day's journey.

"I can't believe we did it," you exclaimed, your eyes sparkling with a mix of joy and exhaustion. Alex grinned, "It was magical, wasn't it? Having you by my side made it even more special. You’re really a present full of surprises aren’t you"

Later on, after leaving set, you two continued to stroll through the quiet streets, savoring the post-production bliss. The city seemed to have slowed down just for them, allowing them to relish the shared triumph. The music video, a testament to their love and collaboration, was destined to become a visual masterpiece.

Days later, as the video premiered to the world, fans and critics alike were captivated by the palpable chemistry between Alex Turner and you, (Y/N) (L/N). The comments flooded in, praising not only the song but also the genuine connection that elevated the video to a realm beyond ordinary music visuals.

In interviews, Alex and you shared snippets of their experience, emphasizing the organic nature of the collaboration. The music video, now a symbol of their artistic minds, resonated with audiences on a profound level, leaving an indelible mark on the hearts of those who watched it.

As the applause echoed and the views skyrocketed, Alex couldn't help but feel a sense of fulfillment. His journey- no Your journey together, from the studio to the screen, had not only produced a beautiful piece of art but had also strengthened the bond between eachother. The music video became a cherished chapter in your love story, a visual representation of the magic that happens when two hearts beat in perfect harmony.

[bulkyphrase]

Smutty Stony Rec List

I wrote this in the notes of a post like a year and a half ago and I’m finally delivering! This list is both the fulfillment of that ancient promise, and an Xmas present for the Steve server’s #stony-nsfw channel.

I am very skewed towards bottom Steve, so if that’s not your jam you can probably safely skip this list.

Enjoy, and Happy Holidays!

Got You Under My Skin by BlossomsintheMist ( @cherryblossomsmist) (Ults | Explicit | 26,115 words)

Summary: “I’d be happy to show you a good time,” Tony said, smiling a little obscurely, Steve thought, as if to himself, but still with that warm, knowing look, affectionate and oddly fond, “any time you want.” Steve Rogers goes to Tony Stark's birthday party. Things progress from there, with a lot of flirtiness leading to propositions, and propositions leading to, well, what comes next, and Steve isn't even sure what he wants after that. Set in the Marvel Ultimate Universe, and written for the 2014 Cap_Ironman Reverse Big Bang. Art by wiredoll, here.

Baby, You Can Drive My Car by BlossomsintheMist (@cherryblossomsmist) (616 | Explicit | 7,485 words)

Summary: “Nothing but the best for my best guy,” and this time, Steve’s groan was soft and shuddering and all about Tony calling him that old-fashioned phrase, it never failed to make him feel warm and, and soft, and cared for, the way Tony always managed to do so damn well, “this is the Lamborghini of fucking machines, all right? Written for Day Ten of Kinktober: Fucking Machine.

Chapter 19 by blue_jack (MCU | Explicit | 5,098 words)

Summary: Anyone who was anyone knew about Captain America.

The rest are below the cut!

I’ma Bite Your Feelings Out by blue_jack (MCU | Explicit | 4,174 words)

Summary: “I’m sorry, but we have to do what?” Steve asked, sure he’d misunderstood. “I said that someone needs to have sex with Tony,” Dr. Strange told him, sounding annoyed that he had to repeat himself, as if Tony weren’t currently a wolf, standing six feet tall at the shoulder. A little bit of clarification wasn’t too much to ask for.

Exhausted by FestiveFerret (@festiveferret) (MCU | Explicit | 2,764 words)

Summary: “You going to sleep, love?” Tony asked, and Steve nodded. “You okay with keeping the collar on?” Tony knew Steve understood what he was asking for - as much as he knew how badly Steve wanted this.

Exposed by FestiveFerret, SirSapling (@festiveferret, @sirsapling) (Ults | Explicit | 5,979 words)

Summary: Of all the people Steve could be stuck with while this agonizing drug surged through him, of course, it had to be Tony Stark.

Not In Kansas Anymore by fohatic (@fohatic) (MCU | Explicit | Rape/Non-Con | 28,585 words)

Summary: It was truly uncanny, how alike they both were. His voice. His mannerisms. His meticulously-groomed facial hair. If he didn't know any better, Steve would've thought that it was the same man he’d left back on Earth-617... The only noticeable difference between them was that look in his eyes... Steve hadn't missed it, the way that this Tony was watching him as if he were a rabbit that had wandered into a tiger's lair, regarding him with an unsettling sort of amusement as he invited him deeper into the penthouse, brown eyes sharp and smoldering with something that Steve didn't recognize. Steve Rogers attempts to covertly gather intel on a mysterious weapon from a parallel universe's Tony Stark, and ends up in a predicament that he never saw coming.

if love is a jungle by fohatic (@fohatic) (MCU | Explicit | 15,393 words)

Summary: It was Tony's wet dream and worst nightmare all rolled up into one.

Perfect Body by IronShield (MCU | Explicit | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | 12,677 words)

Summary: Steve Rogers is struggling with his sexual desires, he doesn't know if he should share them with anyone. One day, out of curiosity he reads some SteveXTony fanfiction and Tony wonders if the fanfic matches up the the real deal. The first chapter sets it up, chapter 2 and on will contain all the smut!

Ravenous by IronShield (MCU | Explicit | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | 14,362 words)

Note: Not exclusively Stony, but it is the main ship

Summary: Sequel to "Perfect Body" Steve keeps thinking about the promise Tony made. Now Steve wants to fulfill his body's every desire once again and get with a few other Avengers.

girls can't play guitar by isozyme (@isozyme) (Ults | Explicit | 4,209 words)

Summary: On nights when Tonia fucked Eve, Eve left her bed sated and woke up with a guilty desire to walk into Tonia’s room, strip off her kevlar uniform, and surrender herself to whatever Tonia wanted to do next. Captain Eve Rogers has a complicated relationship with sex and masculinity. Tonia Stark has a really big strap.

what it looks like (from the outside) by isozyme (@isozyme) (616, Ults | Explicit | 5,786 words)

Summary: “I talked to Rogers,” Tony said. His tone was edged with wheedling — Tony was building up towards asking for something. “And now I need your opinion: what are your feelings on threesomes?” “With Rogers?” Steve asked, surprised. Steve certainly — surely — probably — didn’t approve of threesomes. Even if Tony asked for it, in his haughty, affected way, the way that said it was all a joke until you said yes, Steve would — he wouldn’t say yes. He certainly wouldn’t have thought other-him would go for it. “No, with a platypus,” Tony teased. “Yes, obviously, with Rogers.” Commander Rogers from Earth 616 comes to visit Ultimates Steve and Tony. They have a threesome with feelings. That’s it, that’s the fic.

All the Love You Hold and Hide by Mireille (MCU | Explicit | 17,294 words)

Summary: On a mission, Steve triggers a booby trap that turns out to be a skeevy sex curse, of the "fuck or die" variety. Tony volunteers as tribute.

Under The Spell by Ridley160 (MCU | Explicit | Rape/Non-Con | 23,125 words)

Summary: Steve gets doused with a heat inducing sex pollen from a giant centipede that Tony has been researching. Wild with a fiery desire Steve bends to the will and whim of the creature, allowing it to use his body in any way it pleases. Tony attempts to talk Steve out of it and get him away from the bug, but he too is subjected to the monster's pollen, and finds himself unable to resist the temptations. Then there is finding how to deal with the aftermath. Heed the tags

Little Red Button by scribblywobblytimeylimey (MCU | Explicit | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | 6,298 words)

Summary: Sequel to 'All There in the Manual' for firelordstark: “[I]t would be interesting if roleplaying an android were an actual kink of his and not just his subconscious trying to construct a situation where Tony would be interested in him.” (What do you know? Freud was right.) Tony takes so well to Steve's suggestion he starts to wish he'd mentioned it sooner. It's easy to believe the rest of it – that he's the sex-toy android Tony built for when Steve's not around, built to please him, modded within an inch of his life to react to pressure sensors in all the right places – when Tony's even gone as far as to integrate a voice modification filter that fits like a gag but lets out every last sound, not quite in Steve's voice, but flattened a little with a tinny edge, just like he *would* sound if he *were* a robot sex toy. And that's not even all of it. One of these days, he's going to learn to never underestimate Tony Stark.

In the Springtime of His Voodoo by shaenie (MCU | Explicit | 9,821 words)

Summary: “I’m removing Captain Rogers from this base, but not from active duty. I want him as SHIELD’s liaison to Stark Industries first and foremost. He’ll report directly to me,” Fury says. “As it is, your identity as Captain America is not public knowledge and it will remain that way until I say otherwise. That said, if you think you can get Tony Stark to work with you if you disclose that information, you have permission to do so.” Also available as a podfic read by paraka (@paraka)

Satiety by Sinope (MCU | Explicit | 956 words)

Summary: From a kinkmeme prompt: Tony builds a fucking machine designed specifically for Steve. It fucks him for hours, through multiple orgasms until he's sore to the point of crying and begs for it to stop. Once Steve can't come anymore, Tony unties him and plays with his sore hole. Then he fucks him. Afterwards, he licks his cum out of Steve. Contains exactly what it says on the box.

A Particular Style by sinuous_curve (MCU | Explicit | 3,640 words)

Summary: “The erotic tale of one camp counselor’s descent into lesbian madness?” Toni rattles off the summary, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead in a swoon that Steph can’t see. “I can’t fault your taste. It was always one of my favorites.”

Simple Biology by stark-contrast (dweetwise) (@dweetwise) (MCU | Explicit | 9,925 words)

Summary: “God, I'm sweating bullets in this thing,” Tony said, already unzipping his undersuit. “It’s not just me, right? It feels like a sauna in here.” And Steve's resolve crumbled by each inch of sweat-slick skin that was revealed. Or, Tony gets hit by sex pollen. Fortunately, Steve is there to help out—if only the guilt complex would let him.

[sassy-bi-latina]

I have a new ramble incoming that might get me in deep waters with some bl stans. I'm sorry, I TRULY mean this with no hate.

First and foremost, I want to say I in NO WAY, SHAPE OR FORM mean hate towards Fourth nor Gemini

Context:

If you know me, you know I'm a ff reader, if you don't know me, well now you do. I mainly use AO3.

I'm currently watching 23.5 degrees, I love it so I went to read some fics.

There are 115 fics under the show's tag. I got excited thinking people work fast, absolutely not realizing the pilot trailer was out in 2022. I knew I've been waiting. I just didn't realize how long.

Previously to 2024, there were only 3 Ongsa fics.

Okay I'm rambling here and I'm not gonna edit the post. I write as I think.

So this is the context. Which brings me to my point.

I'm actually happy Fourth and Gemini are not part of the project anymore. I don't know them as actors. But I'm sure they would have done great. But I'm glad they aren't here.

As I said, there's 115 fics in total as of right now, Sunday 31st of March, but once you filter out Night/North you are left with 37, and that still leaves you with some other mlm tags. If you filter those out, you're left with 22. TWENTY. TWO. fics in TOTAL. And excuse me but I find that sad. And you might think, oh maybe you filter out some Ongsa/Sun fics when filtering everyone else. Yeah, I did, like 3 where they weren't main. And not even the ones left are only theirs but they're sapphic ships of the show. It's 25% of the totality of the fics made, in a show THEY ARE STARING.

Look, I'm the first to say, ship whoever you want, don't let canon cut your wings. I'm okay with people shipping, I'm happy people love something so much they decide to make art about it.

And this post isn't about going against these two actors or their fan base. It's mostly a I'm tired post.

I'm tired that sapphics in media always come second or third or whatever place but never first. Not even in their own shows. It's discouraging.

I'm tired of popular sapphic shows in western media getting cancelled left and right. I'm tired of barely there rep in the asian countries' media I watch. I'm tired of being shadowed by the latest pretty mlm couple.

So yeah, I'm happy they're not here. I know their fans could have brought more views which is a bonus. But I feel we would have media flowing with people talking about them and we want companies that GLs can have the same pull.

I'm happy that we still have gay men rep because I don't want that being pushed aside. But I prefer this approach where the focus are not one but two sapphic couples.

I also like that the boys aren't models and that they look nerdy. And soft and just, I just like this approach better.

If you read all this, thanks!! If you read all this and you're a fic writer. Continue that fic you left forgotten or are unsure to finish. You're marvelous and I love you. Y'all kept me sane during hard times.

Final note, I want to remind, once again, no hate to the actors nor their fanbase.

I also don't know how much sense this all made. Sorry for that.

[lullabyes22-blog]

Mel x Silco - Happy Ending AU - A Drabble Thing

Based on this ask by @elviriel <3

Part of an AU meta of the Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO universe.

tw: pandemics, terminal illness, death

cw: sex, angst

"When I am gone, you will have many who will offer their love. Take their love, but never trade on it.  Love is not a currency. Love is a gift, and a gift given is a gift given freely.

 I cannot give you mine, not any longer. But know that it was real. It was true. And it was yours."

Given the fraught relationship these two have with love and trust, I truly believe it would be a long time coming. For a woman like Mel, love has always been conditional. It comes at a price: trade of power for power. Her mother may have loved her in her own way. But it was a love contingent on her worth as a Medarda.

Ambessa promised her the world... but only if she could prove herself in her mother's eyes.

With Silco, love is nothing but a petty conceit. He's known betrayal and disappointment from those he once called family, and from those who claimed to love him. So he doesn't put any stock in it. It's just a word that people use to control others. If need be, he'll weaponize it. He'll say anything, to get what he wants.

And what he wants most, is Zaun's ascendancy.

But somewhere along the way, Silco's and Mel's lives entwine, and feelings begin to creep in. Certainly, there'd have to be a level of mutual chemistry between them—cerebral, verbal, physical—if they chose to flout their cities’ conventions and tie the knot despite vehement protests from their respective political parties.

Baseline: Mel likes Silco. He's not a good man, but she's drawn to his brilliance. He's an incredible tactician and a shrewd politician. And the more she sees of Zaun, the more she admires him for what he's built. His ruthless streak unnerves her with memories of her own mother, and yet it's offset by his capacity for intense tenderness. For Jinx, for the future of Zaun, even, if in a twistedly wry way, for her.  Despite coming from two diametrically opposite social strata, their tastes are surprisingly well-aligned. They have a keen appreciation for art, music, fashion, philosophy. He denies it, but she thinks he's a fine dancer whenever he lets himself cut loose. And, when they're not trying to best each other in conversation, their silences are comfortable.

As a husband, he's not half-bad. He's attentive, in a hold-the-door-for-you and pull-out-your-chair sort of way.  He's perceptive, and knows almost intuitively when she's tired or unhappy in need of a distraction. In an indulgent mood, he'll leave queer little tokens on her pillowcase or in her trousseau, like a funny note from a fortune cookie or a pretty dried flower or a small gemstone. And he's got an appreciation for her intellect that goes hand-in-hand with his admiration for her beauty. He'll notice when she uses a special perfume with the same astuteness as when he catches a coy innuendo or a well-timed pun. Sometimes he'll even smile when she's not looking, a crooked curve to his mouth, gone as soon as it's there.

But love?

There's something there, for sure, this quiet warmth that grows between them. Something that's a little like amusement, and a little like fondness, and a lot like family.

But she'll never put a name to it. Naming things brings them to life. Like a curse.

The Medarda bloodline has enough curses to go around.

As for Silco?

Baseline: he likes Mel, too.  Granted, she began as an unforeseen complication. He didn't anticipate falling into a relationship with a Topsider, much less a member of the Council. Still, the gains far outmatch the costs. He gets to make a mockery of Piltover's hypocritical, stagnant elite. He gets an inside connection to the very seat of their power. He gets a gorgeous woman on his arm.�� Mel’s mind is an endless wonderland of strategy, she's got a tongue dipped in sterling silver, and that body is a gilded marvel. She can be a proud bitch, sometimes, but she's got a secret sweet streak that she's at pains to keep hidden. Marriage was never part of the plan, but now that he has it, he's got few complaints.

As a wife, she's an unexpected boon. She's no homebody by a long shot. He's never once seen her set foot in the kitchen; nor does he care to. Cooking's not his thing, either, unless it's a cookie-baking night with Jinx. They have staff for that. But when they do entertain, she's a consummate hostess. She's a deft hand at managing her social calendar and his own. She dazzles at every event. Half the chem-barons would give their left rib for one dance with her; the rest fall over themselves just to catch a glimpse. And, she's got a wicked sense of humor. Behind closed doors, he's had more than one glass of whiskey ruined by her sly commentary on the partygoers.

But love?

Let's cut that word out of the picture entirely. It's a fairytale; a fantasy. Zaun has no room for either.

Yes, sometimes, at night, when she's curled up against him, her soft breathing stirring the hollow of his throat, he'll feel a bite of possessiveness and think, Mine. But, the next morning, it's a fleeting memory, lost in the heady rush of conquest.

He's got a city to run. There's no room for foolishness.

Less for love.

*

 And then Zaun is struck by the Ash Plague.

It's a mutated variant of Grey Lung, a disease that ravages the respiratory system, causing progressive weakness and eventual death. The victim’s skin turns gray and papery, and lesions erupt everywhere, like the flesh is sloughing off their bodies. Their lungs blacken and their coughs fill with blood. They grow progressively weaker, unable to do much more than lay in bed, struggling for breath.

Silco doesn't catch the sickness. His constitution is stronger than most, thanks to years spent working in the mines. And he's a careful man, washing his hands and covering his mouth whenever a new outbreak occurs. The Shimmer microdosage also boosts his immunity, making him less susceptible to common diseases.

Jinx, likewise, seems to have been blessed with an immune system forged of steel. She catches the colds and stomach bugs that go around the Lanes, but the Ash Plague slips by her, like a black cat in the night.

Mel, on the other hand, is vulnerable as a newborn.

She's possessed with a fine constitution. She takes scrupulous care with her hygiene. But her lungs have always been delicate. It's why she's seldom in Zaun without a mask. When the first cases are reported, Silco makes arrangements to escort her back to Topside, where she'll be safely ensconced in her private apartments, and guarded by a veritable battalion of doctors.

But on the day they're to sail, Mel comes down with a fever.

Silco doesn't panic. Not immediately. But by the time they've returned to the Undercity, she's already coughing, a wet, hacking sound that has him summoning Singed.

And that's when things go sideways.

When Singed examines her, his face darkens. He looks at Silco and says, "I am sorry."

The Ash Plague has a near-total fatality rate. The strongest of victims might last three months. The weakest, a fortnight. There is no known cure. Singed suggests an experimental Shimmer cocktail: a compound that should boost Mel’s immunity and buy her more time. But the odds are long.

"How long does she have?" asks Silco.

"Six weeks. Perhaps eight. It's hard to tell."

"What can I do?"

"Keep her comfortable. Make her last days happy. She is strong. With luck, she may even pull through."

Jinx, of course, takes the news poorly.

"It's not fair!" she shrieks, tears streaming down her cheeks. "We can't let her die! She's family, Silco! You have to help her! We can't just sit here and let her die! You gotta do something!"

But what can he do?

For days, he sits by Mel's bedside. He's seen her sleep before. But not like this. Her breathing is labored. Sometimes, she hacks, and a bloody spume froths from her lips. The lesions are appearing all over her body, like a child's drawing of the sun. The fever rages on, no matter how many icepacks Singed prescribes.

When the fever is particularly bad, she'll murmur. A single word, again and again: "Mother."

Ambessa has already received the news. Due to the Plague's severity, Zaun is under lockdown. No one may come in, and no one may leave. Not unless they wish to be quarantined, and see the Plague spread to other lands.

Ambessa threatens to declare war on Zaun if they do not let her through the ports. But her warnings fall on deaf ears. She may be a fearsome general, but she is nothing in the face of a pandemic.

Ambessa curses, and rages, and swears her revenge on Silco.

"She should never have married you, you blasted snake!" Ambessa snarls at him, over the speaking telegraph. "But you had to drag her down, to your hellpit, where your fucking plague will do your work for you, won't it? Well, when the time comes, you can bet your life that I'll be there to cut your heart out and feed it to my hounds, and—"

At this point, Silco hangs up.

But her words haunt him.

You had to drag her down, to your hellpit...

He says nothing of the conversation to Mel. She's barely sensate, lapsing in and out of fever dreams. If he's lucky, she'll stay awake a few minutes. He'll spoon broth past her lips. But most of her feeding comes through tubes. The Plague is cruel, eating away at her lungs. She grows thinner by the day, the bones in her ribcage and hips like fragile branches. He'll lay beside her in bed, feeling each racking breath she draws.

Sometimes, she'll look at him and smile, murmuring, "Silco."

And then she'll close her eyes and sigh, and sleep.

When she's lucid enough to talk, she asks, "How is Jinx?"

"She's worried," he tells her.

So am I, he thinks but doesn't say.

"Tell her not to be."

"How can she not be, Mel?"

"I'll be fine," she says. "Don't worry."

She closes her eyes and falls asleep again.

The Plague rages on. Silco devotes more hours to Mel's caretaking.

And her time grows shorter.

In the afternoons, Silco takes to reading to her. He'll select a book from his shelf, or hers, and read a few pages. She seems to enjoy that, so he does it more often. The story of a soldier who finds a magical thimble. The legend of the Lady of the Lake. A romance about two star-crossed lovers. Fantastical tales as far removed from their reality as possible. Other times, poetry is her fare of choice, and Silco will recite the verses in slow, smooth cadences. He's not a bad reader, though his voice doesn't quite suit the tone of most of the poets' works.

There is one in particular that Mel enjoys. Each time he reads it, she sighs raptly. After he's done, she'll say, "Read it again?"

He'll kiss the inside of her wrist, and promise to read it the next afternoon.

Inside, he'll wonder if there'll be another.

Mel is dying. He can see it. Her skin grows grayer by the day, the lesions deepening in color. Her breathing is getting shallower. And when she talks, it's only to aspirate a few words. He's helpless against the tide of inevitability. It's an opponent he can't corner. Can't negotiate with. Can't kill. And the harder he tries to hold back the waters, the faster the tide rushes in.

She's dying.

But he keeps coming back, every afternoon, with a book under his arm and a bowl of soup in hand.

"Read the poem again," she'll say, her eyes half-lidded.

"And again," she'll repeat.

"Just a one more time," she'll rasp.

Sometimes, Jinx will join him. She's deeply agitated by Mel's illness, but determined to put on a brave face. She'll bring a pile of throw-pillows and her toolkit and sit at Mel's bedside, tinkering quietly with a new contraption.

"I'm working on a present," she'll tell Mel, with a wobbly smile. "It'll make you better."

"That's lovely, Jinx," says Mel, closing her eyes. "Thank you."

And then, barely a beat later, she's asleep.

Silco takes his daughter's hand and squeezes it. They trade a wordless glance.

She's dying, thinks Silco.

She's dying and there's nothing I can do.

But he still comes every day. He reads her books. He holds her hand. He brings her tea and hot-house hyacinths and anything she desires. In the evenings, Jinx keeps vigil, her gift blossoming beneath her hands in slow-motion. It resembles a flower, an intricate copper-plate bloom with furling petals. But she tells him it's meant to be a music box.

"To sing her to sleep," she says, and her smile is sad.

"It's beautiful, Jinx."

"Not yet. It's not done. Once it's ready, it'll sing to her, and she won't have to die."

But she is dying, he thinks.

She's dying and Jinx's music box cannot save her.

I cannot save her.

One evening, returning from his duties, he finds the door to Mel's bedroom ajar. He creeps closer, barely within the ambit of the lamplight, and finds a scene that has his heart skidding to a stop.

Mel is sitting up.

She is in her favorite dressing-gown, a ruched silk-and-chiffon number in pale cream. Her dark skin has gone a mottled gray. She is coughing, softly, the wet sound threading through the room. There's a handkerchief pressed to her mouth. When she lifts it away, there's a red stain on the cloth.

She is smiling.

"...That's why you married him?" Jinx's voice floats over. "Because he quoted a stupid poem?"

Mel chuckles, the once-melodic sound coarsened by suffering. "Not just any poem. The one I liked best. The one that was... mine."

"What d'you mean, yours?"

"I'd read so many poems growing up. None were meant for me. They were... generic. Like a suit. You know, a man goes to a tailor. He says, 'Make me a suit. Make it black. Make it sleek. Make it smart. For the ladies.' And then he wears it. Maybe it fits, maybe it doesn't. It doesn't matter. Because the suit doesn't matter. It's a costume. An... illusion."

"What does that have to do with the poem?"

"When Silco quoted that poem... that poem I'd always felt was mine... it wasn't like he'd tailored it to a passing fancy. It was like..." Her breath shivers out, "...he lived it."

Silco stays hidden behind the doorway, listening in, spellbound.

"Huh," says Jinx. "I think I get it."

"It was a gift, you see," Mel goes on. "In those eight lines... I saw myself. I saw our future."

"What was the poem, again?"

Mel closes her eyes. "It's a short one. I've memorized it."

Then she recites a poem Silco knows well. The same poem he has read to her, day in and day out, since her illness.

"'Had I heaven's embroidered cloths/Enwrought with golden and silver light/The blue and the dim and the dark cloths/Of night and light and the half-light/ I would spread the cloths under your feet/ But I, being poor, have only my dreams;/ I have spread my dreams under your feet;/ Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.'"

Her voice falters. She's breathing hard. Her lashes flutter.

"Oh," says Jinx, softly.

"The poem is about an unequal match. A man and a woman. From two different worlds. Two different social strata. A love that can never be."

"You and Silco."

"Me and Silco," Mel agrees. "We could never be. Not by the laws of our respective societies. And yet we are married. We are together. Because we chose to defy expectations. And when we stand together, we are stronger. More than the sum of our parts. That's what the poem is about. A defiant love. A love that dares to be."

She's quiet a moment. She coughs. Her shoulders shiver.

"He loves you," says Jinx, quietly. "I know he does. Even if he won't say it."

"That's the beauty of the poem," says Mel, smiling. "I don't need him to say it.  I feel it, every day, when he wakes me up with breakfast and sits by my side. Every time he reads me this silly poem over and over. It's his love letter to me. And I will treasure it. For as long as it's mine. Until the day it isn't."

Jinx's voice quavers. "You can't die."

"We all die, Jinx." Mel coughs again. She draws a sharp, shuddering breath. "But we do it... on our own terms. As best as we can."

Silco watches from the doorway. He can't breathe. His lungs have filled with icewater.

Mel coughs again. Her voice is barely a whisper. "Jinx. Do you mind... if we stopped talking now? I'm tired."

"Yeah. Okay." Jinx sniffles. "We'll talk more tomorrow, yeah?"

"Tomorrow," agrees Mel. She lays back on her pillows. "Goodnight, Jinx."

"G'night, Mel."

Jinx stands up and walks away. Silco sees the glisten of tears on his child's cheeks. But he cannot go to her, not right now, because Mel is still awake. Jinx has already lost so much. How much more loss can such a fragile girl bear?

He backtracks hastily before Jinx crosses the door, and pretends to have just come in. Jinx throws herself into his arms, and he holds her close. She cries a little, but soon composes herself.

"I have to finish my gift," she tells him. "It's almost done. It'll save her. I just have to figure out a few kinks, and it'll be perfect."

"Of course," says Silco. He's numb, unable to tell her the truth. He can't. "Go on. Work on your project. I'll take over for tonight."

"Thanks, Silly."

Jinx goes on tiptoe to peck his cheek, then races off.

When he returns to Mel's bedroom, he finds her asleep. She looks more peaceful than she has in days. Her favorite book lays facedown beside her, the spine cracked.

He sits down by her bedside, and stirs a fingertip through the book's pages. There's a loose scrap of paper tucked inside, a bookmark. He pulls it out. It's a folded square of parchment. He's seen the handwriting before, all looping lines and arcing flourishes in elegant cursive.

Mel's.

The note is brief.

Beloved,

This morning, I woke with the scent of your cologne on the pillow, and knew that you had come and gone, and left this parting gift: my favorite book, opened to my favorite poem. You always remember, even if I have not the strength to say.

And so, before the strength leaves me, I must leave you with this final gift:

When I am gone, you will have many who will offer their love. Take their love, but never trade on it.  Love is not a currency. Love is a gift, and a gift given is a gift given freely.

 I cannot give you mine, not any longer. But know that it was real. It was true. And it was yours.

Mel.

Silco reads the note three times.

His chest feels like a blade has cut his black heart in two.

He folds the note and returns it to the book. Then he sits, watching Mel sleep. She's fading fast, the plague ravaging her body, leaving only a ghost behind.

His fingers find hers, and clasp them gently.

"Thank you, Mel," he whispers.

He waits, the night passing slowly, his heart aching with each of her labored breaths.

After that, it happens quickly.

She wakes briefly in the early hours. Her eyes are fever-bright, and her skin is papery. The lesions are stark, deep-violet against her skin. She reaches for him, and he takes her hand. He can feel her, waxing and waning between life and death. Her pulse stutters, and her breaths are short, broken snatches.

She says only one word.

"Silco."

"I'm here," he soothes.

"Mother."

"She's not here. It's only me."

"Silco."

"I'm here. You're safe. Rest."

"Love..." she murmurs. "...love."

"I know," he says. "I know."

Her eyes close, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. She's slipping away, her spirit a candle guttering out. And yet, finally, there is a peace on her face that he hasn't seen in weeks. She is dying, yes, but there is a beauty, a lightness, a grace. Like a heavy weight has been lifted from her shoulders. She is treading softly, at last, into her dreams.

Silco leans in. He kisses her brow, her lips. His forehead, cool on hot, touches hers.

"I love you," he tells her. "And I always will."

Her smile is sweet and soft.

Her eyes close, and her breathing evens.

It stays that way, as the night bleeds away, and the sun fills the room.

The next morning, Silco finds Jinx working on her gift, the metal petals unfolding and unfurling. There's a delicate clockwork mechanism, with a single lever. The music box is beautiful, a work of art, a marvel.

"Look!" Jinx cries. "It's almost done! Just a couple more kinks, and then we can wake Mel up with it, and she'll be all better!"

Silco looks at the device. Then he looks at his daughter. She's staring at him with such hope, such joy, her eyes glowing fiercely. Her faith is unshakeable.

She doesn't understand that some bargains are more ironclad than others.

"She's not going to get better, Jinx," he says, quietly. "You have to let her go."

Jinx stares at him, her face crumpling.

"No," she whispers. "You can't say that. She'll get better. She has to. She promised."

Silco shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Jinx. But Mel's not going to make it. Not this time."

"But—"

"Singed and the doctors have tried everything. The Plague has taken hold. It's spreading. She'll only linger in pain."

"I can fix her! I just need a couple more days!"

"She doesn't have a couple more days, Jinx. She's fading. You have to let her go. She's going to die."

Jinx's face is wet.

"No," she whispers. “No no no.”

"Jinx. I'm sorry. She's gone."

"But she said—"

"I know. But it's not something we can fix. No one can. It's out of our hands."

Jinx is silent.

"Go to her," says Silco. "Tell her goodbye."

And Jinx goes.

When she comes back, her eyes are gleaming red. She's clutching her music box, which has finished unfolding into a magnificent metal bloom, the petals unfurling like a rose. But her smile is wobbly, and her hands are shaking.

"Mel liked it," she whispers. "She said it was the best gift she ever got."

Silco holds her tight.

"It's okay, Jinx. We're going to be okay."

"Are we?"

"I'm sure. I promise."

She sniffles.

"Y'know... for a sec... I thought..."

"What?"

Jinx lifts her head, eyes locking with his.

"For a second... when I was lookin' at Mel... I coulda sworn her lesions were smaller. Like... she was getting better."

"You're imagining things, Jinx. You're tired."

"Yeah."

"How about I read you a story? Something nice and easy, to get your mind off things. Would you like that?"

"Uh-huh," says Jinx. She nestles against him. "Read me that poem. I wanna hear the poem."

"What poem?" Silco says, as if he hasn't heard the words a thousand times, in a thousand variations.

"The one Mel talked about. While you were eavesdropping at the door. Peeping Silco."

Silco bites down a bittersweet smile.

"You knew?"

"I saw you duck out. I wasn't born yesterday, y'know. You're lucky I didn't call you out on it."

"You could've."

"And miss out on the juicy gossip? As if. Read me the poem, Silco. Please?"

"All right."

So Silco and Jinx settle together on the pillows of his couch, and Silco recites the poem, the words rolling from his tongue as if they were his own.

"Had I heaven's embroidered cloths/Enwrought with golden and silver light..."

The poem is brief. But it resonates, like a crystal chime, striking at his heart.

"'...Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.'"

"I like it," says Jinx, after a quiet minute.

"It's not your thing, though. Poetry."

"Maybe it could be. You think I can write poems? About Zaun and stuff."

"You can do anything, Jinx. If you put your mind to it. You just need practice."

Jinx falls asleep in his arms, and Silco sits in the silence, his fingers idly smoothing her hair.

Then he goes to check on Mel.

He's braced himself for what he'll find, and yet he is still unprepared for the sight.

Mel isn't gone.

She is sitting up in bed. Her skin is still gray, and the lesions are still present. But her eyes are clear. Her breathing is steady. She looks at him, and smiles.

"Silco."

He is silent.

"Jinx showed me her music box. It's ... extraordinary. I've never seen anything like it."

Silco steps closer.

"How are you feeling?"

"The same. But..." Her smile grows, "...a little better, I think."

Silco frowns. He can't quite trust what he's hearing. Can't believe what he's seeing.

Because Jinx was right. Her lesions are less pronounced. Less angry. Her skin holds a warmer hue. Her breathing is easier.

"I don't understand."

"Nor do I," admits Mel. She pats the sheets, "Sit with me?"

He does.

She reaches for his hand.

He does not give it.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

"How are you feeling? Truly?"

"I told you. Better."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Perhaps I'm fighting it off. Or perhaps—"

"Or perhaps what?"

Mel gives him a coy smile. A fleeting flash of her old self.

"Perhaps I've crossed over and returned. I'm not certain. It felt like... a dream. Like the world was made of glass, and I was drifting. But a voice was calling to me. Telling me I was safe. Telling me I could stay, or go to my dreams. The choice was mine. And I chose."

"You chose what?"

"To stay. With you." Again, she reaches for him. This time, he doesn't deny her. "I don't know how. And I don't care. Because the dream wasn't worth it, without you."

Silco's throat is a knot.

He says nothing. He urges her to lie down again, and she does.

"Sleep," he says. "I'll be back later. And we'll talk."

"I love you," she says, with a sleepy sigh.

He doesn't say it back.

He cannot be sure if this is a dream or not.

Instead, he summons Singed. The doctor examines Mel carefully.

"There's a remarkable improvement in her condition," he notes.

"What do you mean?"

"Her vitals are stabilizing. She's regained color. Her breathing is stronger."

"Is she cured?"

"Not yet. But it's possible."

"What does that mean?"

"It means..." Singed hesitates. "She's been granted a reprieve." A beat. "As have you."

Silco scowls.

"There are no reprieves. Only hard bargains."

"It appears your bargain has been struck. Whether you meant it or not. She's made her choice. And she's staying."

Silco turns away, unable to rein in his emotions.

"You think she's safe?"

"With our treatment? It seems so. The Plague has retreated. She's no longer terminal. In a month, maybe two, we may see her through it. She'll have some scarring. But she'll live."

Vertigo nearly overtakes him.

He'd been ready to say goodbye. He'd prepared for her loss. He'd steeled himself against her passing. And now?

He's not prepared to feel his heart beating again.

"Thank you, Doctor," he says with terse formality. "Keep me apprised."

"Of course."

Singed leaves.

Silco is alone, and he is reeling.

Hard bargains. Harder truths. And yet, somehow, by the grace of something he doesn't believe in, Mel is here. And she's going to live.

It's more than he deserves.

But he'll take it.

The next weeks bring more change. The Ash Plague continues its relentless ravage of the city. More are afflicted, and many more die. Zaun is locked down. Shops and factories are shuttered. People hunker in their homes, waiting, praying for the end. But Singed's serum is making inroads. More are recovering, albeit slowly. The disease is not gone, but it's in retreat.

And Mel is regaining strength.

Day by day, her lesions heal. Her color returns. Her energy. Her appetite. By the month's end, she's well enough to rise from bed. Silco has one of the guest rooms in their suite remodeled into a sun-room, where she can spend her afternoons, surrounded by plants and art. The view is the Undercity, and the sky, a bright jeweled dome.

Mel resumes painting. Silco has a small easel set up for her, and brings her supplies: acrylics, charcoals, watercolors. Sometimes, she paints flowers and fruit. Other times, the cityscape, or portraits of Jinx. The girl's gift adorns the table, a magnificent centerpiece. From its copper heart pour the sounds of Zaun, a tinkling aria of notes raised in celebration and defiance.

Silco is a constant visitor. Sometimes, he'll bring one of her preferred philosophical treatises and read aloud. Sometimes, a newspaper, so she can keep abreast of the political landscape in Zaun and Piltover. He'll discuss the articles with her, and they'll brainstorm strategies, and Mel's eyes will grow bright, her tongue sharp, her mind a diamond-faceted brilliance.

Other times, he'll bring her tea, and a new book. They'll read together, a few chapters a day. He'll listen to her talk about the book's themes, its characters, its symbolism. She's an animated analyst, full of incisive ideas, and he's fascinated, and more than a little aroused.

He keeps the desire to himself. Her body is not yet fully recovered. The Plague has left her weakened.

He will wait, until she is strong again.

In the evenings, they have dinner together with Jinx. His daughter has taken up residence in the guest room next door, and often, they'll eat in Mel's bedroom, playing cards and swapping gossip on the chem-barons and Councilors. Jinx's wild tales always make Mel laugh, and, sometimes, the two women double over bubbling with hysterics, while Silco sits in contented silence, taking in the beautiful sight.

After the third month, the Plague is receding. The Fissurefolk bestow thanksgiving to Janna. Theories abound. Perhaps it's the Shimmer compound. Perhaps a quirk of genetics. Or perhaps, says Mel, a miracle.

"Doubtful," says Silco.

"Hey, stranger things have happened!" Jinx insists.

"Like what?"

"Like me and you and Mel," she says. "Bein' a family."

He can't argue with that.

The third month stretches into the fifth.

Mel is well enough to resume correspondence with her colleagues in the Council. Her desk is awash with missives inquiring after her health. There are a dozen invitations to tea, and twice as many invites to dinners and parties. Then there is the intimidating crest of the Medardas on a red-bordered envelope.

Mel is reluctant to answer it. Ambessa's threats have not abated. And Mel has no desire to confront her mother.

"Not yet," she tells Silco, "There is work to be done between our cities."

 Silco agrees, and leaves her to it.

 Week by week, their disrupted rhythms smooth back into a semblance of normality. The Plague is contained. The chem-barons are slithering out of their strongholds, and Silco is needed to keep them in line. He spends more time in his office, and less time hovering by Mel's side. But they send each other a brisk succession of messages, and he drops in to see her daily.

He's just returning from a meeting when one of his messengers finds him.

"Boss. There's a letter from the Missus."

Silco unfolds it, and skims through it.

Urgent.

You're needed at home.

It's a shock, to read the word.

Home.

Home is his office, and his desk, and the clutter of his plans and maps, and the view of Zaun from his window. But his home has also become Jinx's and Mel's laughter, and the burnished warmth of the sun-room, and the gleam of Jinx's music-box, and the floral lilt of Mel's perfume.

And now, this summons.

His pulse spikes, and he rushes home, his blood thundering in his veins.

Has the Plague come back?

Has Mel relapsed?

But, when he gets to the penthouse, the space is quiet. The lights are dim. He heads to Mel's room, and finds her door ajar.

He enters.

It's dark, the drapes closed. The room smells of hothouse hyacinths.

"Silco."

Her voice comes from the bed. He sees her, lying under the covers, and his heart drops to his toes.

"Are you all right?" he demands.

"Better than all right."

Her voice is low. Musical.

Aroused.

"What's wrong? Why the summons?"

"Come here."

He does.

She's reclined on the pillows.

The bedcovers are pulled to her breastbone, revealing only the tantalizing slope of her neck and shoulders.  Her face, in the dark cloud of her unbound hair, holds an alluring glow.

She looks...

"You've been ill," he begins, cautiously.

"No longer. I'm well."

"But—"

"Silco," she whispers.

And her voice is a siren song, her lips a dark temptation. He's leaning in, and she's rising to meet him, and then their mouths find each other, the kiss slow, deep, drugging. He feels her arms loop around his neck. Her fingers curl through his hair. And then she is drawing him down, tugging at his clothes, pulling him closer, until he is braced above her.

"We shouldn't," he gasps one final time. "Not until you're—"

"Stronger? I am."

"But—"

"Shhh," she murmurs. "No more talk. Only us."

She's naked beneath the covers, he discovers, as his hand slips into the sheets. Her skin is deliciously hot, and the seam between her thighs is slick as melted butter. Her eyes hold a heavy-lidded radiance, and he is caught, a fish on a hook, a drowning man, powerless against the pull of the tide.

"Mel," he groans.

"Shh."

He lets her drag him under. He's already lost, his thoughts unraveling, his will dissolving. And she is exquisitely sensitive, arching and curling beneath his questing hands, his teasing fingertips, his ravenous mouth. He savors the way her breath catches as he parts her, caressing her with his thumb. She moans, a melting croon, and he dips his head and tastes her, his tongue teasing the silky nub of her clit. Her fingers claw into his scalp, holding him there, and he delves into her, drinking the sweetness of her need, the music from her throat, the symphony of her joy.

When he rises over her, she's trembling, her skin sheened, her eyes molten.

"Yes," she breathes.

He sinks into her, inch by inch.

She sighs, her body stretching to welcome him, and the hot, liquid squeeze makes him groan. He pauses, gathering his self-control.

"Don't stop," she says. "More."

And then he is moving, the rhythm a languid glide, his body making itself heavy on hers, her palms starfishing his spine. They've done this before, numberless times. But this is different. So different it's almost a dream. A fantasy. When he kisses her breasts, she arches her neck, and he laves her nipples, suckling gently, until she is keening.

"Silco..."

He's going slow. Slow, because he doesn't want to hurt her. Slow, because he wants to remember every detail. How her eyes are liquid gold, her mouth a swollen bruise, her body a sleek mold to his own. She flows with him, skin-to-skin, a river with a hundred secrets, and he wants to know them all, to learn her inside out, to drown in the dark velvet of her: heat and honey and salt.

Her breath is catching.

"More," she begs. "Please."

"No," he rasps. "Slow. Don't rush it."

"I can't—I can't—"

"Slow."

But he's not much better, the fulcrum of his control teetering. His muscles are coiling, his mind sluicing down black headwaters. She's so tight, the grip of her a sweet torment. He can feel the gathering tension in her body, the fluttering spasms that presage her completion, the way her nails are scoring his skin, her breaths sawing frantically.

The heat of her is a burning sun.

Mine, he thinks, with a surge of sudden fierce elation. Mine.

They've changed rhythm somehow, and he isn't sure if it's hers or his, only that they're grinding against each other, the pressure an unbearable sweetness, the friction sparking a fire through his nerves. Mel's breaths come wet and shaky. One broken sound, a gasp that is nearly a sob, escapes her. She is crying, tears streaking her skin, delirium reducing her words to a single whisper.

"Please," she begs. "Please."

Silco doesn't speak. He can't.

So he gives her what she needs.

He rocks harder, faster, driving her deeper into the sheets, her body a pliant curve, her legs locked around his waist. The headboard is rattling against the wall, a dirtysweet percussion. And the room is full of their cries, a ragged duet spiking into crescendo and then softening, softening, softening into a single, shuddering gasp.

Afterward, they lay entwined.

Mel’s body, dewy with sweat, is fused to his. Her hips stir lazily. He's still half-hard, but for the moment he's sated, the blissed-out aftermath resonating through his bones. He kisses her forehead, and she nuzzles his jaw.

"Well," she murmurs, "that was..."

"Good," he says, and she laughs, a breathy, satisfied purl. Stretching beneath him, she winds her legs round his, tracing his back with her palms. He's a canvas of old scars. Always has been. But now a few cicatrices linger on Mel's own skin: on her left cheek, below her collarbone, upon her right breast. Silco kisses each one, like a benediction.

"My warrior queen," he murmurs, tracing the mark on her breast. "The scars are badges of your valor. You won the battle." 

"Did I?"

"You survived. That's more than I could ask. More than I deserve."

"Sssh." She lays her finger against his lips. "I'd never have, if you hadn't taken my hand."

He kisses her: slow, savoring sips.

She breathes, "I heard, you know."

"Heard what?"

"That night. When I was... fading. You said you loved me. That you'd always love me."

His pulse trips.

"Did..." Her lashes dip. "Did you mean it?"

He can't lie to her. Not anymore.

"Of course I did."

"And now?"

His eyes lock with hers.

"Always," he says.

"Then it wasn't a dream. You called me back." She smiles. "The poem took care of the rest."

"Poems don't save lives, Mel. Only progress can."

"Poetry opens the doors of possibility," she insists. "And sometimes, the best poetry is the poem that you live."

He has no answer to that.

So he kisses her, a hot, deep, hungry kiss.

Her eyes flutter shut, and she sighs.

"We have much to do," he says, a husked warning.

"Mmm. I know. My mother’s missives..."

"I meant us." The kiss deepens: a promise. "The missives can wait for another day."

Her answering smile is a thing of beauty: a bright golden blossom that unfurls like Jinx's gift.

"Tread softly," she teases, "because you tread on my dreams."

Silco only kisses her again, their bodies folding together in the dark.

He doesn’t need to tread far.

His dream is already here.

[lutraviolet]

Every time I see your art show up on my dashboard I mentally go, "Oh! It's the fitpac mlp artist!" and I get excited. I don't watch FitMC nor PacTW. I haven't watched My Little Pony since I was eight. I am unreasonably obsessed with both of those things solely because of you, and I don't know whether to thank you for that, or like, curl up in a ball and cry as I play pirated My Little Pony episodes out of one tab and a HideDuo compilation out of another.

Your art style is the most beautiful thing on Earth, however. I meant it when I said that I get excited whenever I see your works, because they're always absolutely jaw-dropping. Your handle on colors and body proportions is incredible, and you always seem to know how to draw children like they're children. I love the way that you draw eyes and facial expressions as a whole, because they truly are, well, expressive. You can feel the emotion behind each and every character; the happiness, the joy, the bliss, or just a general contentment with life. It's so much fun to scroll through what you have made and just stare at each and every work of art.

I bounce around your QSMP human egg designs in my brain semi-daily on account of how great they look. It takes a special talent and skill to be able to take Minecraft pixels and make them into something that looks even half as good as what you have been able to make, and you are undeniably an incredible artist.

I can attribute my love of FitPac and HideDuo solely to your art, and I feel like you deserve to know that. Every single thing that you make feels quite genuinely unique. From the adorable drawings of Richarlyson as a MLP character with the absolute cutest prosthetic leg I have ever seen and the most flamboyant but incredible hair to the Federation rabbits you have as your banner, there is not a single artist in the world who has ever made art quite like yours nearly as well as you have made it, and that's really cool.

Overall, you are an amazing artist. Your art is an absolute vibe, and what you create is truly something incredibly unique. I hope that you know just how awesome your creations are, and how appreciated it is that you share it with the greater QSMP and art community online, because it is something to marvel at.

Have a good day, a great week, and a hopefully even better month. You deserve all three.

i was tempted not to reply to this just so i could keep it in my inbox to constantly reread, but anon this is probably the kindest most genuine thing anyone has ever said about my work, you have no idea how much it means to me 🫶 please let me cook you a delicious 3 course meal and draw you whatever you want because oh my god i genuinely teared up

[dipolardruid]

For Agonia.

What if instead of the elderly couple, reader was instead found by ANOTHER dangerous mad scientist except this scientist treats reader way better

TW: Reader is seen as property

"You're awake...FINALLY! You're awake, ooohhh this is exciting!" You squint in an attempt to have your eyes adjust to the lighting.

"Take your time don't push yourself!" With a blink you finally are able to see again meeting face to face with a man with a wide smile "Incredible..." you flinch back as he goes to grab your head causing him to retract his arms "Perhaps I got too excited, I just couldn't help myself! How did they create you? I tried using DNA from those bullet wounds, skin cells and so on yet they all remain unidentified...even going as far as to disintegrate after not being attached to you for a extended amount of time..." He begins to mumble to himself.

As you try to sit up you grab his attention again "oh how rude of me my apologies, I got a little side tracked!" He quickly grabs something from the counter "Here drink this you'll feel as good as new!" Noticing your hesitance he takes a drink himself "Completely safe!" He says putting the cup infront of you.

"I must know who created you? Do you know how it was done? How long it took!? I just can't help myself you are an absolute masterpiece!" He laughs "I would've thought you were just a regular huamn being had I not noticed how your body was attempting to repair itself right infront of my very eyes, the bullets seem to have prevented it from doing its job or stopping it completely in some of them!"

He taps on his chin watching as you drink the beverage he offered watching as the colour returns to your face and not having you look as if you were an undead. He stops tapping his chin giving a small chuckle while giving you a huge grin.

"This is only the beginning my miracle of a masterpiece! Don't you worry as long as you cooperate with me I promise everything will go absolutely marvelous!"

It had been a month since he had found you, you won't deny that he confuses you more then not, he's the polar opposite of your mother, he's always so active, adventurous, he even treats you so much differently.

He encourages you to explore to test out new things and not sit and wait for him, he finds it annoying after a certain amount of time. It's because of this you often find yourself doing something dumb like the one time you ate half a bush of poison ivy knowing what the consequences of that are.

"I would've been severely disappointed if a simple plant is what took you out but it truly was something else watching as your body healed itself from the inside out, i'd even say it's a piece of art!" He said as he began walking around you in a circle "Now that I've had time to think on it...you could be my accomplishment!" He picks you up leading you towards his lab room.

"It took some heavy thinking but ultimately you've shown to listen very well along with your body being able to handle even the most deadliest of injuries, I simply have to make some adjustments on you to be able to get the maximum opacity possible from you."

He sees the look you give him causing him to make eye contact with you and smile "Ah don't worry it won't harm you while I won't lie and say it's painless it will be worth it in the end you have my promise...you will be my legacy.."

As time goes on he seems to have been in a terrible mood more as of late, He hasn't taken it out on you, you do realize however how he takes it all out on his experiments he deems as failures which he hasn't done before.

One thing you've also noticed is how he seems to also want to rush the process of enhancing your body more then it already has, while also teaching you different fighting styles from the most brutal to the most pacifist.

He wanted you to be something they've never seen before something that no matter how hard they try or beg they wouldn't be able to stop you. That is what he wants but that pest can't seem to accept the fact that you no longer belong to her....and that pisses him off more than anything.

He needs you to be ready so when you finally are not even she will be able to tame you, you will be proof of what everyone thought he could never achieve....oooh how he'll prove it to all of them.

Finally that day comes when you were finally ready he couldn't help himself but laugh at their reaction when they saw you. Looking at him as if he was crazy bringing just some person into a shady hideout. That changed the moment he asked you be rid of them how he loved hearing them screaming some even begging but he taught you better "Always finish what you've started."

What he really wanted more than anything was her reaction of you finally being revealed to the public. You had immediately topped the charts in the top 20 after the amount of casualties and buildings destroyed in simply 2 hours. There was one person who was less than happy at this new found enemy....Her.

She couldn't help but clench her jaw both hands in a fist to the point of bleeding her eyes wide and brows furrowed before giving a shaky laugh.

"Just you wait until I get my hands on you but first I need a way to deal with him."

He's ruined everything she tried to be nice from civil conversations to mock attacks but now this is something else, he's really done it now. She'll make sure to get you back and have him in such fear that he'd have no choice but to look over his shoulder, even if the chances of her failing are high it's a risk she's willing to take.

Request are open!

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

♡ Garden of Love ♡

Terzo x fem!reader

A/N: how's it going, ghesties?! First time writing for Terzo, sorry if it's ooc haha extremely!soft!Terzo in this one, like I'm talking butter on a hot summer day kinda soft. Absolute slut for this man. Enjoy!

~Fi 🪻

Warnings: disgustingly sweet, bit suggestive at the end (it's Terzo what do you expect)

Word count: 2.1k

All the Italian was translated with Google

I would love some feedback about how I wrote Terzo :)

Please don't copy my work! I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

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You were sitting in one of the many beautiful gardens the abbey had, tended to by none other than Primo, or Papa Emeritus the first. The sweet smell of Honeysuckle and Rose hit your nose, on this beautiful afternoon.

This was by far your favorite thing to do when you'd finished all your tasks for the day. Hearing little bees buzzing about, birds singing their songs and the quiet rustling of the leaves when a subtle breeze passed the garden gave you peace of mind.

It was refreshing, really, with all the chaos going on inside the abbey all day. You were just sketching away in your little leather-bound sketch book. Whatever you could see, it was going on the page. All kinds of plants, trees, flowers, even a little black cat that sometimes lurked around the unholy grounds adorned your page.

Putting down your pencil and closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and could almost taste the sweet blossoms on your tongue, another familiar smell hit your nose. It was him. A small smile formed on your face, you couldn't help it, he just made you smile. "Hello, Terzo" you said softly, keeping your eyes closed.

"Buonasera, amorina" he answered, his voice sweet like honey. You could melt right then and there just from those two words. Terzo made your heart flutter. He took a seat next to you on the wooden bench at the back of the garden. You two just sat there in a comfortable silence for awhile, just soaking in this gorgeous day.

"What were you doing before I interrupted, Bella?" He questioned. You let out a small laugh. "You didn't interrupt anything, my love" you smiled and he smiled back at you. "You were, eh, sketching something, yes? " you nodded, opening up your little booklet to show him. "Just some flowers I saw around the garden. And that cute black kitty that takes a nap on this bench, I've seen it a few times." You spoke.

"Ah, yes. I've seen the gattino around here as well." He answered. You scooched closer to him so you could show him all the sketches you made. "Here. This is what I did today but there's more from other days as well" you told him, placing the booklet in his gloved hand. He took it and flipped through the pages, admiring your talent and eye for detail.

"These are beautiful, amore" he marveled. He continued adoring your little pieces of art, his lips forming into a smile. "You're so talented, amorina. Have you showed these to Primo? I think he would be as amazed as I am" he smiled. A blush crept up to your cheeks, even after all this time together his compliments still flustered you.

"Not yet. I have thought about it, though. I usually let him go on about the flowers and don't have enough time to show him after" you laughed. Terzo chuckled. That sounds just like his older brother. " I think he would appreciate it." He assured you. You gave him a soft smile in return. He took your hand into his and leaned back against the bench.

He really needed a break. Being Papa is hard work so he truly enjoyed these little moments of peace you two shared from time to time. Terzo closed his eyes, the evening sun perfectly hitting his features. You could stare at him like this for hours. He was so beautiful, inside and out.

He continued to bathe in the sun, you admiring him, before any of you said anything. You didn't want to, but eventually you broke the silence. "Do you have a favorite flower?" You asked him softly. He inhaled deeply before opening his eyes. "I haven't really thought about it. Flowers were always, eh what do you say, Primos 'things?'" You chuckled and he smiled at you, before he continued. "I did see one in one of his flower books, heliotropium, I think it was called. I like that one" you hummed, acknowledging his answer, your hands still intertwined. You asked him why he liked it and he chuckled.

"You with your questions, amore" he laughed. "I'm just interested" you responded. "I know, I know , Bella" he smiled, giving your hand a squeeze. "It has a nice color, a light purple. The meaning of this flower is eternal love and devotion. That's why I like it, because of my eternal love and devotion for you" he said, cupping your cheek with his white-gloved hand, smiling at you.

You couldn't hide the smile that adorned your face, placing your hand on top of the one on your face. He gently stroked his thumb across your cheek, leaning in to give you a passionate kiss. You melted into him, his lips were so soft. He pulled away, leaving you in a haze. It was almost scarry how much power he had over you with just a single kiss. He withdrew his hand and crossed his legs. "So what is your favorite flower, amorina?" he questioned.

"The Edelweiss flower. I'll show you." You opened a fresh page in your sketch book and quickly began sketching an Edelweiss. "It looks something like this" you showed him the drawing and he examined it with care. "It's very beautiful, amore. What color is it?" He smiled softly. "It's white. Edelweiss means 'noble white' in german" you answered. He looked impressed, Terzo loved how educated you were, especially on things like this.

"It's a fitting name" he responded with an adoring smile. "It reminds me of you." You said quietly. He hummed. "How so?" "It stands for perseverance and bravery, as well as renewal. All of those things remind me of you. " You smiled. Taking his hands into yours, you could've sworn you saw the slightest sheen in his eyes. "I'm honored, amorina" Terzo smiled. He kissed your knuckles and lightly squeezed your hand.

"It only grows really high up in the alps, having to break through many layers of stone on its way to the sun. An old tale says, the Edelweiss can prove how strong someone's love is, this is why it's called the lovers flower sometimes. Many men have died trying to get this flower for their lover, but if they return their love will last until the end of time." You continued. You had the biggest smile on your face, sharing these moments with your lover was so precious to you, and to him, no doubt.

Terzo brushed a stray piece of hair out of your face, letting his hand linger on your face. "Your mind truly is beautiful, amore" he spoke softly. You thanked him with a sweet smile. You two stared at eachotherfor a while, admiring the beauty of one another. Terzo broke his gaze and looked around the overgrown garden."I've never noticed how nice this garden is. Perfect place for a glass of Vino, no?" He smirked. You jokingly rolled your eyes at him. "I would like that. Very much, actually." You responded with a smile.

He'd been so busy lately with all of his Papal duties that he had barely any time for you. He would stumble into his chambers every night, half asleep, just exhausted from all of his tasks and duties throughout the day. It broke your heart to see him like that, so him asking you on a date for the first time in a while means he's probably done with the worst of it and Imperator had cut him some slack once in a while, but we all know that won't last too long.

"Great" he clapped his hands together with a smile,"I'll have everything arranged then, amorina" . You too just looked at eachother for a while, getting lost in the others eyes. That was until you could hear Sister Imperator angrily shouting Terzo's name in the distance. He let out a defeated sigh and his head fell forward against your chest. "Why can't she give me a break for 10 fucking minutes" Terzo complained, mumbling something Italian into your chest.

Chuckling, you gently stroked his hair. "We'll have so much time together tomorrow, my love. An entire day without Imperator eyeing you from every corner" you responded softly. He sighed once again, looking up at you. "I suppose you are right, amore" he sighed. You pulled him into a kiss by his neck, hoping this would give him some strength to finish his day. Terzo smiled at you, Oh Sathanas, how he didn't want to leave you. It had been so peaceful, just you and him. He longed for more moments like this. Where he wasn't Papa or the leader of a satanic church. But instead just Terzo. Your Terzo. He got up, straightening his clothing before bidding you goodbye to go see whatever Sister was complaining about now. You blew him a kiss which he caught with his hand, pressing it against his heart. You couldn't wait for your date, just you and the love of your life, in this beautiful, overgrown garden with a glass of wine.

It was now the next day and you had just finished getting ready for your little rendezvous when it knocked on the door of your shared chambers. A smiled spread its way over your face because you knew exactly who it was.

He looked so handsome. I mean, he always did but now he looked especially good. "Buongiorno, Bella" he smirked at you. It was great so seem in his usual horny good spirits. He really was out of it yesterday, at least a little. He could hide his feelings pretty well, but you could tell. You knew him and his heart. You were going to have to talk with Sister Imperator after this. "Good morning to you too, Terzo," you smiled.

"You look lovely as ever, amorina. Shall we?" He asked, holding out his arm for you take. You gladly accepted, and the two of you were on your way. You had made him a little gift after the nice time you had together in the garden yesterday. Terzo and you talked on the way about anything, really.

How your day had been so far, the upcoming plans for a tour, and if the Ghouls were doing well. You already knew that of course,they loved you and wanted you to visit them as often as you could.

Arriving at the garden, there was a classic checkered picnic blanket laid out on the soft grass, with a bottle of wine and some fruit. You two got comfortable, and Terzo filled your glass with wine. "A toast, amore" he spoke with a smile, raising his glass "to you, my lovely bride" "to us" you corrected him with the biggest smile as you clinked your glasses together.

It was a gorgeous day, the sun was out and you were right here, next to Terzo. "Terzo.." You began, he hummed in acknowledgment. "I have a gift for you"

He looked surprised has you handed him a little piece of paper. His eyes widened when he took a look at your gift. It was a beautifully painted image of a heliotropium and an Edelweiss flower, stems weaving around eachother and roots intertwining. The vibrant purple color of the heliotropium contrasted the pure white of the Edelweiss perfectly, just like you two contrasted eachother. Under the flowers were some words written in a neat cursive. 'That our eternal love shall persevere'

"Oh satana aiutami.." he mumbled. He looked at you with the most loving eyes you had ever seen. "Amorina, I.. this is absolutely beautiful. Thank you" he said, tears in his eyes.

"of course, my love" you smiled, placing a hand on his cheek. "Ti amo tanto, amore" he whispered. You were gently stroking his cheek and holding his hand, when he leaned in to kiss you. His kiss was filled with so much passion you felt like you might explode. You slowly pulled away. "I love you too, Terzo" you answered.

The second those words left your mouth, Terzos lips were on yours again, almost desperately. The way he kissed you knocked the air out of your lungs. He placed a hand on your waist and pushed you back onto the picnic blanket. You wrapped your arms around his neck to get him even closer. He pulled away ,painting, his paints smeared.

"I think we should continue this in our chambers, yes?" He panted with a sly grin on his face. You couldn't answer fast enough. He picked you up and carried you all the way to your bedroom where the two of you strengthened the bond of your love for all eternity.

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amorina = little love

amore = love

Bella = beautiful

gattino = kitten

Buonasera = good evening

Buongiorno = good morning

Oh satana aiutami = oh Satan help me

Ti amo tanto = I love you so much

strengthened the bond of your love = you know exactly what this means

Hope you enjoyed!

[delimeful]

sharp scales and tall tales (1/1)

warnings: g/t, miscommunication, threats, vague dehumanization/using 'it' as a pronoun, fear, general dumbassery

-

The old ruins hadn’t shown a single sign of life as he’d approached, but even so, Janus couldn’t shake the eerie feeling of being watched.

He pulled on his horse’s reins as they finally reached the desiccated front gateway, the old stone arch crumbling and pitted in several places.

The heavy wooden doors that had once stood proudly to grant entrance were now reduced to slabs of half-rotted wood, leaned against either side of the archway like they’d been pulled from their hinges and simply set aside. Or torn from their hinges, Janus reflected as he noted the shallow gouges in the wood, as though something heavy and armored with sharp scales had plowed right past the twin doors as easily as an arrow through flesh.

Yes, this was almost certainly where the dragon was.

The thought sent a panicked thrill down his spine, an instinctual ‘what-are-you-doing’ bolt of adrenaline that he normally heeded quite well, since that swift retreat usually ended up preventing his untimely demise.

Not this time.

He dismounted his horse, well aware that taking even a guard-trained horse into a dragon’s lair was practically requesting that one’s steed get surprise-barbecued.

Also, there was a large, hand painted sign planted in front of the gate with ‘NO HORSES’ written on it in bold, bright red lettering. There was even an accompanying simplistic painting of a horse crossed out underneath it, presumably for the more illiterate knights out there.

With one last pat to his mount’s snout, he turned, double-checked his armor and supplies, and promptly strode through the gates.

The moment his foot landed in dragon territory, he let a thick veil of composure fall down around himself, smoothing out his brow and lightening his pace so that his face and body alike betrayed no sign of apprehension.

He’d truly need to sell it, if he wanted to make it out of this with both himself and his errant charge alive. There was no place for the truth here, and luckily, Janus was far more accomplished than most in the art of lies.

So, when he reached the entrance to the stone tower ahead and immediately heard the low, ground-shaking thump of something extremely heavy landing in the open courtyard behind him, he didn’t jump, or even let his hand slip to the hilt of his sword.

Allowing himself a deep inhale, he turned to face the beast behind him.

The dragon was in its more humanoid form, surprisingly enough, with coiffed hair and an elegant set of clothes. Janus had no idea why; it was hardly an effective disguise. If the leathery wings protruding from its back, curved horns erupting from the crown of its head, and slit, narrow pupils all failed to clue one in to its true nature, the fact that it was as tall as the tower before it certainly did the trick.

The dragon’s lips curled back into a mockery of a smile, and there was another sign— Janus would wager only a dragon could fit that many fangs into one vicious grin.

“Well, well, I see I have yet another little knight, trespassing on my territory,” the dragon rumbled grandly, still holding the crouch it had landed in as though ready to lunge forward at any moment. “To what do I owe the dubious honor, Sir Lancenot?”

Janus resisted the urge to twitch an incredulous eyebrow at the name-calling, reminding himself firmly that there was no space for mockery in this plan. At least, not until he’d successfully pulled the rescue off.

“Oh, marvelous and most keen lord of these lands,” he began, making sure his own expression was shaped into something suitably admiring, “I am Deacon, a member of the Royal Guard, here on behalf of the Kingdom of Tempest, seeking your counsel on a matter most vital.”

The dragon blinked, and Janus couldn’t help but be grateful that it had chosen to wear a more human face— it was far easier to read than a reptilian one, though of course Janus would have managed either way. “My… counsel?”

Janus nodded rapidly, maintaining his faux eagerness.

“Ohoho, how interesting.” An intent glint appeared in its gaze, and it leaned closer, its enormous shadow falling over Janus like an invisible shroud. One clawed hand twitched in a way that made Janus’s heart kick up in tempo. “Strangely, I didn’t get the impression that a friendly chat was the reason the last few knights of Tempest deigned to darken my doorstep.”

The subtle accusation rolled off Janus without a single shudder or pause. He was well-aware that the other knights had gone charging in, swords drawn, prepared to risk a fiery death to retrieve their missing prince. He knew because they had all come back alive, surprisingly enough. It was one of many reasons he’d committed himself to this insane rescue attempt.

“A simple misunderstanding, the lower ranks tend to jump to conclusions so quickly these days,” Janus demurred, waving a hand as though brushing the matter aside. “I was sent to smooth things over, as their superior, and thank you on their behalf for your graciousness in sparing their lives.”

They’d all survived to report back to him, about the ruins layout and the surrounding landscape and the dragon’s alarming penchant for toying with intruders.

“‘Smooth things over,’” the dragon echoed, attention entirely ensnared now. “What an entirely unexpected way for a kingdom’s representative to respond to the heir apparent being stolen away!”

There was something wickedly amused in its voice that made the back of Janus’s neck prickle, but he refused to let the beast see him hesitate.

“You’ll find we’re a rather unique kingdom, and that our heir apparent is perhaps, not as valuable to certain powers there alive as he would be dead.”

The unfortunate thing was, his words weren’t particularly far from the truth. It had taken Janus a mere handful of days in the kingdom’s service to learn that the prince’s aunt was far from happy with the current line of succession, and often demonstrated her displeasure through as many avenues as she feasibly could.

Avenues that included attempted assassinations, he’d discovered after foiling a fair handful of them each passing month. The job had proved far more intensive than the cushy ‘royal guard’ position he’d been promised, especially since every attempt he countered had to be kept quiet. He couldn’t allow the risk of a public uproar, of being replaced as the prince’s primary protector, until he could ensure Lady Arescet was no longer a threat.

And then, right when he’d been about to enact a plan to ensure exactly that, his ward had been plucked up by a dragon, of all creatures. Truly, his idiot prince had no idea how lucky he was that he’d so thoroughly endeared himself to Janus.

“Is that so,” the dragon replied, a victorious chime to its voice. “And to think, I expected a king’s ransom! Why, whoever could have been clever and bold enough to anticipate this turn of events!”

Janus did pause shortly this time, thrown off his rhythm. Most dragons would be fuming by now, enraged by the news that they’d picked an out-of-favor royal to kidnap and thus wouldn’t be receiving their customary ransom for their hostage’s safe return. Here, however, there was absolutely no sign of the irritation Janus had anticipated. The beast didn’t even seem disgruntled.

Before he could say anything else, the dragon leaned forwards, placing two giant hands on either side of the ground where Janus stood. With the slightest motion, its claws dragged deep furrows into the ground. It took everything in him not to twitch and give the game away.

“And I suppose you– or your distinguished employer, more likely– have some meaningful method to make it up to me?” the dragon theorized, as though it had expected this all along.

“I know it must come as a shock,” Janus started anyhow, attempting to drag the current mess back on-script, “but– yes. You suppose correctly. You’ll get nothing of worth from the kingdom, but my superior is willing to pay for you to release him to my custody.”

“Ah, because you wouldn’t want a more fortuitous knight to steal him from my clutches and drag an inconvenient loose end all the way back to power.” The dragon had lost some of its amusement, though there was still a vicious glint to those eyes. “If getting rid of the puny prince is so important, I could simply make him disappear myself. With far more ease than you, I’d imagine.”

“No,” Janus’s mouth uttered without his permission, the reply much too fast to be natural. He made an airy gesture to cover his slip. “Rather, that won’t be necessary. My lady might require… knowledge from the prince, so killing him immediately would be hasty. For your reward, the only service we require of you is turning him over to us.”

“Your lady?” Those hands were sliding closer. The dragon’s voice dipped with faux-shock. “Why, you couldn’t possibly mean your employer is Tempest’s very own Lady Arescet?”

“Not… necessarily,” Janus tried, but the denial sounded weak, even to himself. “The identity of my benefactor is irrelevant, and even if it wasn’t, the kingdom of Tempest would naturally prefer that the squabbles of the royal family remain a secret.”

His heart was racing wildly, the thump of it loud in his ears, and though his mouth ran automatically, a litany of swears occupied his mind. These weren’t the questions he had expected to be asked, nor the emotions he had prepared to counter or placate. How had things spiraled out of control so quickly?

“I do believe they have a saying about secrets and their keepers,” the dragon rumbled theatrically, and then it was moving, a talon-tipped hand catching Janus in a crushing grip that forced all the air from his lungs.

Before it could do worse, though, the wards on his armor sparked, and the dragon dropped him right back onto the ground with a hiss, shaking his hand out.

“What in all the realms was that?” it demanded, sounding deeply offended that Janus had dared to come to it prepared for an attempt on his life, such as the one it had literally just tried. “The other knights didn’t do that!”

The other knights weren’t trying to con a dragon, Janus thought but didn’t say, mostly because he was still struggling to suck air back into his lungs.

“He’s pretty different from the other knights,” a familiar voice drawled, and Janus’s gaze flicked over to where he could see a familiar, eyeshadow-donning face poking out from one of the tower’s windows. “Isn’t that right, Jan?”

“Virgil,” Janus tried to say, not sure whether he would sound relieved or surprised or exasperated or some odd mixture of the three. In the end, it came out like a strangled whisper.

“Jan? His name is Deacon, Prince Pouty,” the dragon was saying, its tone too familiar for a kidnapper speaking to a victim. “You should at least be able to tell members of your personal guard apart!”

“Dea– Janus, seriously?” Virgil was giving him a Look. Janus closed his eyes to avoid it, breathing deeply. “What was Deacon supposed to do when an entire dragon dropped by to exact retribution over whatever stupid scheme you were about to try?”

“Die, probably,” Janus muttered, because his sympathy for that particular fellow guard had withered down to dust by the fourth time he’d ‘accidentally’ let an assassin get way too close to the prince’s chambers for comfort.

The dragon interrupted, brow drawn in confusion. “Wait, you know this malicious malefactor? This treasonous transgressor? This– this slimy scoundrel?!”

“Yup.” Virgil had propped his chin up in one hand. “Can’t say I was expecting him to come all the way out here, though.”

Janus felt his heart sink. Virgil had been listening in, which meant he’d heard Janus pretend to be under the thumb of Lady Arescet, and even if he survived the dragon now, he’d have to flee the kingdom–

The dragon threw its hands up dramatically. “Don’t you get it, Dark and Stormy? This is the one we’ve been waiting for, the one who was setting up your abduction for your vile, villainous aunt!”

Virgil snorted. “Janus isn’t working for my aunt, Roman.”

‘Roman’ stared at Virgil, incredulity and disbelief warring on the dragon’s face. Janus imagined that his own expression wasn’t much different. “He just admitted to it!”

“He was lying, you overgrown lizard,” Virgil climbed up onto the stone sill of the window, his hand anchored to the side of the tower wall to keep his balance. “Janus was the one who handled the last five assassins my aunt sent. If he was working for her, he would’ve just ignored them.”

“You knew?” Janus’s voice jolted up in pitch, unable to conceal his surprise.

“Dear Aunt Cetty has been trying to off me since I was like, eleven,” Virgil replied dryly. “I know an assassination attempt when I see one.”

In rapid succession, Janus recalled several particularly stressful moments that he’d had to deal with because of his prince’s overt, near-obnoxious obliviousness, obliviousness that had apparently been feigned all along.

“I’m going to throttle you,” Janus informed Virgil, “Dragon or no dragon.”

Roman growled, a low, reptilian croak that made every hair on Janus’s body stand up, but Virgil only grinned at him like the asshole he was.

“Nuh-uh, it’s too late. You came to rescue me from a dragon because you care about me, now I know that your threats are all hot air,” he retorted, unbearably smug in his teasing. “Ro, gimme a hand, will you?”

Roman grumbled something indistinct under its– his breath, and Janus watched, disbelieving, as Virgil stepped lightly onto the giant’s hand, dropping into a crouch as the dragon expertly ferried him to the ground below, as though the two of them had done this hundreds of times.

Janus barely managed to avoid gaping, but Virgil laughed at him anyway.

“Roman’s a childhood friend,” he informed Janus, as though that sentence was in any way reasonable. “His mom kidnapped my mom once and they ended up getting along well enough to stay in touch. People think he looks intimidating now, but I’ve seen him fly right into a tree and knock half his baby teeth out.”

“Virgil,” Roman groaned, setting a fingertip against Virgil’s face as though to stall any more embarrassing youthful anecdotes. “I should have left you to get abducted by your aunt’s goons.”

“But you didn’t,” Virgil replied, gleeful and only a little muffled. “Now suffer the consequences.”

“There was another assassination attempt planned?” Janus asked, trying to ignore the brain-breaking concept of a royal toddler and a baby dragon being playmates.

“An abduction,” Roman corrected haughtily. “I heard a rumor about it, some goon bragging about a plan to whisk Virgil away to some secondary location! Naturally, I wasn’t about to let that wicked witch have her way.”

An abduction plan wasn’t Lady Arescet’s style, though. She’d never shied from sending assassins directly into the castle before, why–?

Janus nearly choked on his next breath. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Virgil echoed, blatantly curious.

“Oh?” Roman also echoed, blatantly suspicious.

“It’s possible that, perhaps, just maybe, possibly… that was actually my goon,” Janus elaborated, putting on a show of sheepishness.

“Your goon.” Virgil was slowly raising one eyebrow. “For your abduction plot.”

“Potentially,” Janus replied. “Look, I needed you out of the way so Arescet would get sloppy, and a forceful relocation seemed like the simplest way to do it!”

“You arranged the abduction… of your own prince,” Roman said, voice dripping with too much judgment for someone who had recently kidnapped his childhood friend.

“It made sense at the time!” Janus snapped. “I already had several plots and even more elaborate machinations in place– It’s almost like someone decided not to tell me he knew about all the attempts on his life all along!”

“It was funny,” was Virgil’s remorseless defense. “Worth it.”

“So… I didn’t actually need to sit around by this boring tower waiting for some mystery perpetrator to show up?” Janus’s nod was wary, but Roman only let out a long exhale, wings drooping with relief. “Thank the stars, I was so sick of lazing around.”

“I wasn’t,” contributed Virgil, who had routinely avoided his political duties by handing them off to Janus and finding a dark cellar to lurk in. “This was great. Relaxing. Ten out of ten, would get held hostage again.”

“Oh, stop it!” Roman preened at the unorthodox praise. “Just you wait. I know the perfect place for a field trip, we can finally do something fun!”

“...Fun?” Virgil repeated, dubious.

“We?” Janus repeated, incredulous.

Going by the shark-like smile they got in return, they certainly weren’t going to be returning to the castle any time soon. Janus silently mourned the imminent destruction of his more time-sensitive plots and schemes. (Virgil less-silently mourned the end of his time lounging around in a musty old tower.)

In the end, his rescue attempt had failed just as badly as Roman’s assassination-foiling attempt. Despite their rocky start, the two of them almost immediately found common ground in blaming Virgil for it all.

("Still worth it.")

When he’d walked into the ruins, he’d believed that his plot failing would mean his death.

As it turned out, being abducted by this particular dragon was far less lethal– and far more entertaining– than he could’ve guessed.