#( prompts ) ╱ * headed straight to the castle .

[adrift-in-thyme]

I originally wrote this for Whumptober but couldn't find a prompt that really fit even before I lost the energy to keep participating lol. So I'm sharing it now!

Summary: Wild remembers someone dear to him

CW for discussion of death/referenced child death

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A young girl’s hands are in his hair.

They snatch a shoulder-length strand, twine it, clumsy, graceful, youthful, enthusiastic, around another. A third meets them in the middle.

Humming, she pulls them tight.

“Pretty!” She says, sing-song, like the chirping chickadee in the chesnut tree. 

“Mm,” hums the ghost who sits a short ways from Wild, silent and steadfast. He smiles and it is a tiny thing, a whisper of what once was. “I’ll bet it is, Aryll.”

“Mhmm.”

Fingers tanned by chores accomplished, adventures undertaken in the sun meet with shimmering gold. A pink tongue sticks out from a small mouth. Concentration drags down pale brows toward cerulean eyes.

“My braids are always pretty. Know why?”

Wild steps closer. There is a tug in his gut, a painful pull he should recognize. 

His eyes are locked on the girl. The other, he only sees in his peripheral. 

The girl is all that matters here.

…breathing is troublesome.

The wraith tilts his head in false contemplation. 

“Because you’re pretty?” 

The girl — Aryll, Wild hisses to himself, her name is Aryll — giggles. 

“I am pretty. But no.”

A ducked head that elicits a huff of annoyance. Battle beloved fingers take delicate shoots of grass and rip them up from the root.

“Can I guess again?” 

“Mhmm.”

Another smile, like a passing comment. There is a blue flower, its petals skirted in white, settled near his worn brown boot. The ghost scoops it up, offers it to Aryll.

“Because you always put the most beautiful of flowers in my hair when you do it?”

Another eruption of giggles as the gently composed petals tickle her cheek. 

“Nu-uh.” Then, a light smack across a cheek, forcing the wraith to settle back into his straight-backed position. “Now, stay still!”

He laughs and Wild’s chest aches.

“Okay, okay. No need for violence!”

Aryll huffs. More flaxen threads meet one another and join hands beneath her attentive care.

“You’ve got one more chance, big brother. Guess again.”

“Last chance, huh?” The wraith raises his eyes to the sky. Wild follows his gaze to where an eagle circles, following the guidance of the currents. “Is it because…”

Someone calls out, calls his name. A man’s voice, young, urgent. 

A messenger.

Footsteps pound an earthen path. 

The ghost’s voice splinters, shatters. He picks up their pieces, sets them into a box, locks it and swallows the key.

“The king summons you! He summons you on an urgent matter! You must come to Hyrule Castle at once!”

“Big brother?” Aryll’s eyes are wide, frightened.

Gently, the wraith nudges her fingers from his hair. The braid is only half finished. A thing of beauty it would have been, a waterfall of gold. But only half of his hair has been tamed. The other falls, reaching for his collarbone in gentle waves. 

He stands and the wind whips it back.

“It’s alright, Aryll.”

He hardly speaks the words. They are a whisper upon the breeze. That throat was never meant to give voice to anything louder, anything more joyful.

Don’t.

Wild tries to move, tries to hold out a hand. 

Stop. Don’t do it.

Don’t walk away from her.

“Big brother, please.” Tears bubble up, spill down. Wild feels their warmth upon his own cheeks. “I’m lonely when you’re gone.”

The wraith doesn’t quite smile this time. The expression lifts his lips like the levers that raise the drawbridge leading to the castle. It doesn’t manage to reach his eyes.

“It’s alright.”

A step. That is all it takes. All it takes to bring everything crashing down.

“I’ll see you again.”

Wild screams and no one hears. 

“I promise.”

Wild screams and the world goes white.

“Your big brother will always come back for you, you hear?”

Wild screams and blood floods his senses.

“Always.”

Wild screams and the memory breaks.

The world careens back into focus, and with it comes the worried faces of his brothers. 

Twilight’s hand is on his shoulder. He throws it off, whirls around, runs. 

They call out. He doesn’t answer. They pursue. He doesn’t stop. 

His feet can hardly go fast enough to carry him away, away, away….

When he does manage to stop, his heart is pounding out of his chest. His breath comes in gasps. His throat is so dry he has to focus just to force saliva down it. 

His legs give way. He crumples, falling to his knees in a pile of leaves that have been burnt by the sun. The forest reaches out and pulls him into its bosom. 

He closes his eyes and lets the tears come.

Aryll. 

He whispers her name, speaks it, then screams it, screams it as he digs his fingernails into his palms and grinds his forehead into the dirt. 

Aryll.

He sobs it. He murmurs it. He etches it into his consciousness so that he will never, never forget it again.

How could I? How could I forget you?

“Cub.”

Time’s voice is soft, softer even than the footsteps Wild had not heard.

He doesn’t lift his head. 

A hand settles on his back. Its weight is warm and welcome, even in this eternity of self-imposed winter.

Wild’s breath hitches. 

“What happened?”

It smells of iron and mold. He closes his eyes.

“You remembered something.” 

Time’s voice is calm, level, knowing. Sorrowful. Wild remains silent. 

A pause that gives way for the gentle song of nature. The whisper of bowing trees, the scurry of tiny feet, the lilting calls of birds.

“You remembered…someone.”

It rises within him, drawn like a moth to flame at the sound of the understanding in Time’s voice. Wild lacks the strength to keep back the agonized whisper.

“My sister.”

There should be a sharp intake of breath, an exclamation, a silence weighted with poignance. Time allows none of those things. He is quiet, but only so that when Wild’s words come tumbling forth, they have space to land.

“I can’t believe I forgot her! I loved her, Time, I loved her so much. I promised to protect her, I swore that I would and I didn’t! I didn’t!” 

He shoves himself up, eyes crazed, hair bedraggled, dirt carved in the grooves tears have carved upon his cheeks and neck. 

“I let her die!” His voice shatters and this time he cannot shove it in a box, cannot lock it up and swallow the key. To do that would be to perish himself. “I’m her big brother and I let her die.”

Time regards him with surging emotion and chilled detachment. Wild lacks the will to try and decipher what terrible things he must be thinking.

“Come here, cub,” he says, when a short moment of eternity has passed. And he is sitting close, close and it is a simple thing to collapse into his open arms. 

“I’m sorry.”

The words penetrate, burn their way towards his heart. Wild hisses, choking on salt that sears.

“We lose much upon this rocky path. I wish it were different.” 

Bloodied fingers fisted in Time’s white tunic, Wild briefly contemplates wiping the snot from his nose. He decides against it. Lifting a hand is more than he can manage right now.

“I will not pretend that you can reunite with her, even now that you have regained your memory. Which was not taken of your consent.”

Time’s fingers are in his hair. He brushes the tangled mass back and away from the muck that cakes Wild’s face. Gently, he pries the strands apart, coaxes them into sections.

“One thing I know for certain, however.”

He takes one group of silken gold, twines it with another. A third meets in the middle.

“Every meeting leads to a parting.”

One trio joins another and another until the endless tresses are united cascading cords.

“But that parting need not be forever. For those who are gone, are never truly. They are with us, even now, standing by our sides, waiting for the day when we will meet once more.”

Wild lifts his head, tucks a mischievous strand behind his ear. His fingertips brush the silken petals of a blossom.

He draws it out, gazes at it. 

“One more guess, big brother. One more.”

Time smiles, soft, kind, so vulnerable he looks more like a timid child than their stalwart leader. 

“At least, that is what Malon says. And I’m inclined to believe everything she tells me.”

Wild’s lips quirk up even as tears turn his vision to swirling orbs of color and light. He cups the flower with careful hands, reaches up, tucks it behind his ear.

“Fine. I’ll just tell you!

“My braids are pretty cause you taught me.

“You taught me, Link.” 

[chvoswxtch]

first date

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: frank finally asks you out on a date.

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 6.7k

a/n: y'all have only been waiting seventeen chapters for these two to finally go on a date, but the moment has arrived! i'd like to give a shoutout to the main character of this chapter: frank's belt. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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Before you could even think about getting out of Frank’s truck and heading inside the Bulletin, his large hand reached over to grasp your own that was in your lap, giving it a gentle squeeze to capture your attention. When you turned to look back at him, there was a nervous glint in his eye. Nervous was not an emotion you were used to seeing Frank wear. As a matter of fact, you weren’t sure you had ever seen it, and it triggered your own nerves in response.

“I wanna ask you somethin’.”

“Okay.”

Despite the softness of your tone, your voice seemed to echo in the confined space of his truck. The way Frank’s warm brown eyes were darting back and forth between your own made it apparent that he seemed to be struggling with whatever it was that he wanted to ask. To soothe him, you turned your palm over in his large hand so that you could lace your fingers together and lightly stroked your thumb along one of his scarred knuckles affectionately. After an agonizing moment of tense silence, he let out a deep exhale through his nose and his rough voice broke through the quietness that had settled.

“What are you doin’ Saturday night?”

When the implication behind his question clicked in your head, a huge grin instantly split your lips completely apart to the point that your cheeks ached, and your eyes lit up with pure excitement. Tilting your head to the side a bit in a teasing manner, you faintly narrowed your eyes into a look of faux suspicion.

“Frank Castle, are you asking me out on a date?”

Frank blew out a puff of air as he turned his head to look out the windshield, letting out a quiet chuckle as the edge of his lips quirked up in a crooked half smile. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, and when he turned to look at you again, his gaze flickered between your lips and your eager stare.

“Tryin’ to.”

Sinking your top teeth down into your bottom lip, you turned your body completely in the passenger seat so that you were facing Frank, still holding his hand in your lap while you sat up straight. As you looked over at him expectantly, Frank cocked one of his dark brows in silent questioning, prompting you to arch one of your own in response.

“Well, go on.”

“Go on, what?”

“Ask me.”

“I just did.”

“No, you said you wanted to. I didn’t hear a formal query.”

Frank rolled his eyes as he let his head fall back against the headrest, shaking it slightly while he let out a lighthearted scoff.

“You don’t ever make anythin’ easy, do ya?”

“I thought you figured that out by now.”

Frank clicked his tongue against his cheek, but you could see how hard he was fighting his amusement by the way the corners of his mouth twitched. Letting out an impatient huff, you rolled your own eyes and squeezed his hand to get him to look at you.

“Oh come on, do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this? I want the whole experience.” 

That got Frank’s attention. Turning his head to look at you, his thick brows rose up his forehead a bit, but only for a moment. His gaze then tapered while a cocky smirk lifted the left corner of his mouth upwards, and he motioned in your direction with his chin.

“How long?”

Heat abruptly flushed in your cheeks when your brain caught up with the confession your mouth let slip. Narrowing your own eyes at Frank, you let go of his hand and crossed your arms over your chest defiantly.

“You have thirty seconds before I get out of this truck.”

Frank chuckled deeply, causing light crinkles to fan around his eye sockets, and the unfiltered joy on his face made your heart feel like it was going to burst out of your chest. It never failed to amaze you how different Frank looked when he smiled. It was almost like looking at an entirely different person. One that wasn’t haunted by a separate lifetime of trauma and unbearable loss. He finally lifted his large hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Alright, alright.”

Twisting in his seat to face you, Frank brought his arm over to slide along the headrest next to you, and he slipped his thick fingers into your hair, moving them downwards until he could brush the rough pad of his thumb along your cheekbone delicately.

“Sweetheart, can I take ya out Saturday night?”

Almost instinctively, you melted into Frank’s touch, your cheek finding its home within his palm. There was a boyish grin on his lips, and you were tempted to climb across the space between you and straddle his lap so you could taste them. A sense of giddiness was fluttering in your stomach, and a smile born of pure happiness was strewn across your mouth.

“It’s a date.”

»»———　　———««

Frank was the epitome of a perfect gentleman. He showed up at your door five minutes early, although you had a slight suspicion he had been lingering in your hallway for far longer than that, and he had a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand. Either you didn’t remember telling him what your favorite flower was, or Frank just really knew you. It was a simple, perhaps old fashioned gesture, but it warmed your heart. No one had ever gotten you flowers before, except for your mom.

To your surprise, Frank wore a black tie with his navy blue button down that was tucked into his dark jeans, and even threw a black blazer on top. You hadn’t seen him this dressed up since the night of the gala. It was kind of odd seeing him look so cleaned up. 

The restaurant he took you to had to be one of the nicest places you had ever stepped foot in. It looked like one of those places that charged you just to breathe their air, and you felt severely underdressed in the simple black dress you wore, even though Frank had complimented it at least three times on the walk over. 

A pristine white cloth was draped over the square table complete with the most shiny silverware you had ever seen resting on opposite sides of an eggshell colored plate. In the middle of the table was a small glass half sphere that had an ivory tinted tea light candle inside, creating an ambient glow in the dim lighting. Continuing the chivalry, Frank pulled out your chair for you and you quietly thanked him before he rounded the table to take his own seat. Your eyes were quickly drawn to the floor to ceiling grand windows to your right that had a breathtaking view of the Brooklyn Bridge all lit up. It was the perfect romantic backdrop.

But it wasn’t you.

And it wasn’t Frank.

He couldn’t sit still. He was shifty, tugging at the black tie around his neck, subtly bouncing his knee under the table. Frank’s eyes were constantly darting around, a habit of his you had grown accustomed to. Anywhere you two went, he was always hypervigilant, constantly sitting where he had a whole view of whatever place he was in, and a clear sight of all the entrances and exits. But tonight it almost seemed worse. It was blatantly obvious he was completely out of his element. He hadn’t said one word to you in the five minutes since the two of you had sat down at your table. Frank’s thick eyebrows were furrowed, an array of warring emotions flashing across his face while looking down at the sleek menu in his large hands.

Frank wasn’t the only one that felt out of place. You couldn’t hardly read a word on the menu, and the price for one single glass of wine made your eyes nearly pop out of your head. A few more minutes of silence passed before you glanced up at Frank again, and you noticed a few beads of sweat building along his hairline. He looked as uncomfortable as you felt. The other people sitting at neighboring tables around yours reminded you of people you had been introduced to at a dinner party with Steven once. It wasn’t as much of a dinner party as it was an excuse for Steven’s parents to show off their ridiculous multi-million dollar home, inviting New York’s elite to kiss his father’s ass while the attendees compared shiny new toys, scandals, and mistresses. That had been one of the most miserable nights of your life.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when the waiter approached the table, hands clasped behind his back, looking between you and Frank with a polite smile. He was tall and thin, freshly shaven, and his dirty blonde hair was perfectly quaffed. He was dressed as if he were attending a black and white gala, not waiting tables. 

“Good evening, and welcome to Brasserie. My name is Andrew. It is our pleasure to have you dining with us this evening. Shall I start you with a glass of our 2014 Brunello di Montalcino ma’am? Perhaps a Manhattan with our twelve year barrel aged rye whiskey for you sir? They both pair well with our Seared Foie Gras.”

Frank was staring at the waiter like he was speaking a language he had never heard of. His thick brows were creased in evident confusion, and you had to attempt to stifle a laugh at just how adorable he looked in that moment. You cleared your throat to gain the waiter’s attention and gave him a polite smile of your own.

“Can we have a moment to look over the menu, please?”

Andrew gave a faint nod of his head, his hands still clasped behind his back. That polite smile looked like it was permanent.

“Of course, ma’am. I’ll be back in a few moments.”

After he retreated, you looked across the table at Frank curiously.

“How did you find this place, exactly?”

Hearing the suspicion in your voice, Frank adjusted restlessly in his chair, reaching up to tug at the tie around his neck with a low grunt. His eyes darted around the restaurant for the thousandth time since you had sat down.

“Bill recommended it. Pulled some strings, got us a table.”

Suddenly it all clicked. No wonder Frank seemed so uncomfortable. He didn’t pick this place; Billy did. This restaurant had Billy Russo written all over it. With that new information, the way he was all dressed up now made sense too. On one hand, it made you grin knowing Frank had gone to Billy for help planning for your first date. It was so…cute. You would’ve given anything to be a fly on the wall for that conversation. On the other hand though, while you appreciated Billy’s input and help, you wanted tonight to be about you and Frank, and this setting didn’t represent either of you.

Quickly shutting the menu, you placed it back down on your plate and stood up, which immediately grabbed Frank’s attention. His head snapped up, looking at you in a mixture of puzzlement and trepidation, and when you held your hand out to him, he stared at it like it was a foreign object.

“Come on.”

“Where we goin’?”

“Just come on.”

Following suit, Frank closed his menu and set it down on the plate, grabbing your hand and standing up from his chair. Lacing your fingers together, you lead him down the exact path you had taken from the host’s stand and exited back outside onto the street through the tall glass doors. After taking a few steps down the sidewalk, you paused and turned around to face Frank, dropping his hand to reach up and undo the knot of his tie, slipping the black material from around his neck and stuffing it into your purse. You unbuttoned the first three buttons of his dark navy shirt, giving you a glimpse of his tan skin beneath, and pushed the black blazer off his broad shoulders and down his large arms. Folding his blazer over your arm, you took a step back to take in your handiwork, and a tender smile caressed your lips.

This was the Frank you knew.

“Much better.”

Frank glanced down at himself before lifting his head to look back at you. There was a look in his eyes that you didn’t know how to read. His lips parted slightly, and then quickly shut. Turning his head to stare at the restaurant the two of you had just left, he was quiet for a moment before looking down at you again. This time, you could see a hint of uncertainty shining in his deep brown eyes under the illumination of the street light above.

“I’m sorry.”

Frank’s apology instantly perplexed you, and it was written all over your face.

“Sorry for what?”

He let out a deep sigh, looking over your head to watch people passing by on the street in opposite directions behind you. He lifted one of his large hands to nervously rub at the back of his neck before meeting your gaze again.

“I uh…don’t really know what I’m doin’, here. I’m a bit…outta practice.”

The honesty behind his confession made your heart constrict in your ribcage. You knew what he meant. Frank hadn’t dated since he lost his wife. He hadn’t been on a first date in decades. It suddenly occurred to you how big of a deal tonight was to Frank, and that made your features soften. Taking a step closer, you brought one of your hands up to gently place against his jaw, staring up at him with an understanding smile.

“It’s okay. So am I.”

The feeling of your soft hand on his skin made him physically relax almost instantaneously. His large hands came up to gently grab your waist, and he pulled you in flush against his chest, staring down into your eyes deeply. 

“I just…wanted tonight to be special for ya.”

The juxtaposition of his gruff voice speaking so softly sent a tingle down your spine and only made you melt into his embrace even further. He was trying so hard, putting so much effort into trying to achieve what he thought was perfection, not realizing that the one thing you wanted tonight was the man standing in front of you.

“Frank, it’s already special. I’m with you. That’s all I wanted. I don’t need all of that. You could take me to get hot dogs at the stand on the street corner, and I’d be thrilled.”

Frank’s lips tugged into a wide grin as he chuckled, giving your waist a faint squeeze while shaking his head.

“I ain’t takin’ you for a goddamn hot dog on our first date.”

“Why not? I like hot dogs.”

“I ain’t ever even seen you eat a hot dog.”

Fighting your own grin, you tilted your head to the side and narrowed your eyes lightheartedly while gazing up at him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be trying to impress me? Not arguing with me?”

Frank’s dark brown eyes roamed over your figure in his hands, a smirk stretching across his lips at the sass in your voice.

“Thought that’s what I was doin’ til’ you dragged us outta that nice place.”

“I wasn’t paying thirty-seven dollars for one fucking glass of wine.”

“You wouldn’ta been payin’ anyway.”

Rolling your eyes, you gave his bicep a gentle squeeze while smirking up at him.

“Okay fine, I wasn’t going to let you pay thirty-seven dollars for one glass of wine. That’s like…three times what I spend on one bottle.”

“Didn’t realize you were so high maintenance.”

Burying your face into his chest, you couldn’t stop the laughter that made your shoulders shake slightly. Frank’s arms slipped around your waist, hugging you close to his chest, and you could hear his own laughter echoing deep within his chest and feel it rumbling against your own. Leaning back a little, you looked up at him with a teasing smirk and arched one of your brows.

“You know, I’m surprised Maria ever went out with you. You’re kind of the worst.”

Frank stared down at you with a soft smile and his large hand rubbed up and down your lower back gently.

“You and me both.”

Even though the two of you were standing on a crowded sidewalk in lower Manhattan with dozens of people passing by every second, while the two of you stared at one another, everything else faded away. It felt like you were in your own little bubble.

“Alright, if you’re gonna fight me on hot dogs, what’s the compromise between that and a menu I can’t read or pronounce?”

“I had a back up plan.”

»»———　　———««

Frank took you to a small little Italian restaurant for dinner. It was owned by a family who had immigrated to New York in the 1960s from Sicily and had been passed down through the hands of several generations. The red brick of the walls had faded into a dull shade of rust, the wooden table was worn and chipped from several decades of use and hot plates, and the wine tasted like it had come out of a five dollar box, but it was perfect.

Both of you were so much more relaxed and at ease in this cozy, intimate environment. The owner of the restaurant, a charismatic older man named Tony with a thick Italian accent, talked you into ordering the Rigatoni Amatriciana, and it was one of the best dishes you had ever tasted. He also never let your wine glass go completely empty. Once he found out you and Frank were on a date, every time Tony came over to your table, he’d look at you before glancing at Frank and nudge his shoulder with a grin, nodding in your direction and saying ‘lucky man’. It never failed to make you blush, or to make Frank beam with pride.

This was the most laid back you had ever seen Frank. The wine was flowing, and you were trading bites of each other’s dishes along with stories. He was in the middle of telling you how he met Maria at a park when you nearly spit out your wine as laughter abruptly erupted from your lips.

“Wait, she said what?”

Frank was laughing just as hard as you were, covering the top half of his face with his large hand, his broad shoulders moving up and down rapidly.

“Swear to God, she says, ‘Hey buddy, you know anythin’ else? Because we’re sick of hearin’ you butcher this one’.”

Covering your mouth with your hand, you were trying so hard to contain your laughter, but the image of a nineteen year old embarrassed Frank getting called out by his future wife for playing guitar so badly was causing your stomach to ache from your fit of giggles.

“Were you really that bad?”

“I wasn’t bad, I was just…strugglin’, ya know? I was tryin’ to learn a new song, ya know…singin’ it out loud like an asshole. I was-”

Frank paused for a moment, like he was replaying the memory in his head, and then a grin split across his lips as he shook his head and started laughing again.

“-I was butcherin’ the hell outta it.”

Hearing the resignation in his voice when he stopped defending himself only made you laugh even harder, watching as he brought his glass of wine to his smiling lips to take a large sip.

“Wow, she must have really liked you to still go out with you after that.”

Frank set his glass of wine down and gave a light nod of his head, staring down at his empty plate with a soft smile on his lips and a somewhat far away look in his eyes.

“Yeah. Yeah she uh…she saw somethin’, I guess. Somethin’ I couldn’t.”

Staring over at Frank quietly for a moment, you set your wine glass down before reaching across the table to place your hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze. When he glanced up to meet your gaze, you looked at him with a warm smile on your lips.

“It doesn’t matter if you couldn’t see it. She saw it, and it was special. That’s all that matters.”

Frank regarded you silently for a minute, and then a tender smile of his own crossed his lips while he brought your hand up to place a soft kiss to the back of it.

“You’re somethin’ special, you know that?”

Warmth caressed the tops of your cheeks and spread throughout your lower belly. The sincerity in his voice, the way he was looking at you…it had those three words right on the tip of your tongue again. It was astounding how everything with Frank felt so…natural. He was the first person you didn’t have to pretend with or water yourself down for. He didn’t expect you to be anyone other than who you were. Tonight was the most relaxed and carefree you had ever felt on a date, or in any of your past relationships before. As badly as you wanted to shout those three words from the rooftops, you decided on another truth instead.

“You make me feel it.”

»»———　　———««

After indulging in the most delicious tiramisu you’d ever tasted in your life, you and Frank found yourselves in a small dive bar a few blocks down the street. It wasn’t too terribly packed for a Saturday night, and you two managed to snag an unoccupied pool table towards the back of the bar after ordering a round of drinks. Frank, being the gentleman he is, offered to teach you how to play, and even though you already knew how, you weren’t going to turn down the offer. It was far too enticing. 

For about half an hour, you let him explain the game, felt him pressing up against you from behind while he “taught you” how to hold the pool cue and how to aim, his large rough hands manipulating yours on the cue to demonstrate proper placement. After he was finished with his little lesson, and with the liquid mischief of tequila flowing through your bloodstream, you decided to make things interesting.

“I bet the next round of drinks that I can sink that seven.”

Frank quickly paused when lifting his beer bottle to his lips, arching one of his thick brows while an expression of amusement painted his features as he looked at you.

“Yeah? One lesson and you’re an expert, huh?”

Without offering a verbal reply, you winked at him before leaning over the pool table and lining up your shot.

The deep maroon seven ball glided along the hunter green felt canvas that’s vibrancy had been muted by decades of ashen smoke, complemented by faint rings from one too many sweaty beer glasses and other questionable stains. It sank into the corner pocket with a loud clack, and Frank’s attention flickered between the corner pocket and your form leaned over the pool table, an expression of complete surprise flashing across his features. 

Slowly rising up to your full height, you fought to contain the smirk that threatened to overtake your entire mouth, though a whisper of it could be detected at the corner of your ruby painted lips. Frank noticed it, he noticed everything, and it had him narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

“You hustlin’ me?”

Placing the bottom of the pool stick on the floor, your fingers lightly slid down the smooth maple wood, lightly wrapping around the midsection while you lightly shrugged your shoulders.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Frank stared at you from where he stood casually leaning against the edge of the table, one of his large hands resting on his hip along the leather of his belt, the other grasping his own pool stick with two of his fingers and his beer bottle with the rest. The dim light above the pool table cast a shadow over his sharp features that made his warm whiskey eyes appear more like deep pools of darkened espresso. His thick brows pinched, causing a crease in his forehead.

“You said you didn’t know how to play-”

“I never said that.”

The look of faux innocence on your features caused Frank’s eyes to darken, cocking his head to the side while staring at you in a way that was silently challenging you to prove his memory wrong. Keeping your eyes locked on his, you slowly began to round the expansive pool table, your lips stretching into a playful grin. Slipping between Frank’s large form and the table, you purposefully brushed your ass against the front of his jeans, eliciting a deep grunt from him in response. 

“You said you could teach me.” 

Leaning over the pool table, you arched your back a little more than necessary while lining your pool stick up with the cue ball, lifting your ass further up into Frank’s point of view. You didn’t need to glance over your shoulder to know that’s exactly where his hungry gaze was. You could feel it.

“Yeah, and you let me.”

There was just barely a trace of annoyance nestled in the gravel of his deep voice, and it made you grin. 

“Did you think I was gonna pass up the opportunity to let you bend me over something?”

The dingy ivory cue ball was lined up perfectly with the smooth electric blue of the two, but just as you were about to take your shot, Frank’s large hand wrapped around your hip and squeezed tightly as he pressed himself against you from behind, and your hand slipped. The cue ball sailed only a few inches ahead in the opposite direction you planned for, and you tightened your grip around your pool stick. 

Letting out a deep exhale through your nose, you turned your head to look up at Frank over your shoulder, only to find him staring back at you with a burning intensity that ignited a flame of pure desire in your lower belly.

“That wasn't fair.”

“And wigglin’ your ass in the air, bein’ a goddamn tease is?”

Before you could respond, Frank leaned forward, pressing his firm chest right up against your back, letting you feel the heat of his body against yours. The spiced woodsy scent of his cologne overwhelmed your senses far more than the concoction that wafted in the dense air of the dive bar, and you could almost taste the beer on his lips when he leaned in so close that his large nose bumped against your own.

“You wanna play dirty, sweetheart? We’ll play dirty.”

Frank suddenly stood up straight and let go of you to walk around towards the opposite end of the pool table. He grabbed the triangular rack and retrieved the balls from the outlet below before grabbing the others that were still scattered across the table, and he set up a brand new game with a look of pure focus and determination in his eyes.

You couldn’t help yourself from being even more of a tease. Frank just looked too damn good, and you had a great buzz going. He’d loosened another button to your delight, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows exposing his muscular forearms. Leaning your pool stick against the table, you sauntered over towards the high top table to your right where your purse was and slipped your hand inside, pulling Frank’s long forgotten tie out. 

“If I win-”

Turning around to face Frank with a smirk, you noticed that he had paused his set up of the game and was now glancing between the tie in your hands and the look on your face in a mixture of intrigue and confusion.

“-I get to use this, on you.”

As soon as those words left your lips, Frank’s eyes instantly darkened. He stared at you in a way that made you want to abandon the game all together and drag him out to the alley to let him fuck you there, but you knew he wouldn’t budge. Frank didn’t back down from a challenge. He embraced it. His eyes flickered between the tie in your hands and your gaze, letting out a quiet grunt accompanied by a nod in response before removing the rack once the balls were set up in a perfect triangle.

Grabbing his beer bottle from the edge of the table, he motioned towards your pool cue with it before taking a large sip.

“Ladies first.”

Placing the tie back into your purse, confusion knit between your brows at Frank’s nonchalance. You stared at him from the opposite end of the table, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Aren’t you going to tell me what you get if you win?”

Frank focused his attention solely on you, and there was a predatory look in his eyes that made you nearly sink to your knees right then and there.

“Figured I’d show ya instead.”

»»———　　———««

It took Frank twenty minutes to kick your ass. Twenty. Minutes. Why you thought you could actually beat him, who really knows. Maybe it was the confidence granted from the glasses of wine at dinner and the two margaritas you’d already had. Maybe you underestimated how good of a pool player Frank was, which was stupid on your part considering it wasn’t far fetched to think that his base had a pool table and he probably perfected his game during his tours in the Marines. Maybe you just didn’t give a fuck if you won or not because either way, you got Frank. He didn’t tell you exactly what he wanted if he won, but the fact of the matter was you could see in his eyes just what it was that he wanted and you were more than eager to give it to him.

Frank kicked the door to the small dive bar bathroom shut with his boot, taking his hand off you only for a quick second to lock the door. His kisses were hungry and aggressive, and even a little possessive. His large hands slipped from your waist down to your hips and finally reached around to land on your ass, squeezing roughly through the thin material of your dress. The action made you moan into his mouth, and he tore his lips away from yours just to attach them to your neck, leaving a wet trail of open mouthed kisses before speaking into your ear in a low and rough voice that had your panties immediately soaked.

“Been wantin’ to rip this off you all goddamn night.”

“No one’s stopping you.”

Frank’s large hands found their way to your hips once again, and he tugged your dress upwards until the hem of it was at the top of your thighs. Gripping onto your waist, he quickly lifted you up and placed you on the edge of the sink, the cool ceramic of it a stark contrast to the heated skin on the backs of your thighs. Just as you were reaching for his belt, he suddenly let go of you and took a few steps back, his tongue darting out to swipe across his bottom lip. Seeing the look of confusion on your face and the impatient pout on your lips, he stared at you with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“Put your hands together.”

Blinking a few times, you continued to stare at him in perplexity. A crease formed between your brows at his words. 

“What?”

Frank didn’t tear his ravenous eyes away from you. They trailed over your figure, drinking in the sight of your dress bunched up to your hips, your thighs spread apart as you sat on the edge of the sink with your legs dangling below, a delectable view of your soaked panties. He took in the way your breasts rose and fell quickly from how hard you were breathing already, the heat that flushed in your cheeks, and the look in your eyes that gave away just how badly you wanted him.

Bringing his large hands to his belt, he slowly and teasingly started to unbuckle it. Despite the fact that you two were in a public space and anyone could come banging on the door at any minute, he was taking his time, making a show of pulling the worn leather from the metal buckle. 

“Your hands. Put ‘em together. I got a prize to claim.”

You were so mesmerized and aroused by the sight of Frank unbuckling his belt, you almost missed what he said. Lifting your gaze up to look at him, you seemed to get an idea of what he had planned for you, and it sent a thrill of excitement throughout your entire body. Without another moment of hesitation, you quickly pressed your hands together which earned a pleased smirk from Frank. He cocked his head to the side, slipping his belt from the loops of his jeans while taking a step towards you.

“Would ya look at that. You can do what you’re told. This what I gotta do to get you to listen, baby?”

An intense wave of heat pooled between your thighs at the way he was teasing you. His voice was so coarse and rough, but the way he spoke to you was smooth like honey. Biting down on your bottom lip, you gave a faint shake of your head.

“I’m listening cause I want it too.”

Frank was standing directly in front of you now between your spread thighs, and a grin stretched over his soft lips as he kept his head cocked to the side, staring into your eyes in pure hunger and amusement.

“That right?”

All you could manage was a soft hum in the back of your throat in response. When he started to wrap his belt around your wrists, your gaze quickly dropped to watch. The loud music playing outside was nothing compared to how loudly your heart was pounding in your ears. Frank carefully but expertly bound your wrists together, giving the leather a gentle tug to test his own work. Grasping your chin between his thumb and index finger, he lifted your head to capture your eyes.

“This alright?”

Nodding your head eagerly, Frank let out a soft chuckle. He lightly brushed his thumb along your bottom lip, leaning in to nuzzle his large nose against yours.

“C’mon now. That pretty head full of all them big words and you ain’t got none for me right now?”

“Hurry up.”

Frank let out a deep bellow of laughter at your impatient and rushed response, crinkles of delight fanning around his eye sockets.

“There’s my girl.”

Grabbing your elbows, Frank lifted your arms above your head, hooking your bound wrists on a piece of the light fixture above the mirror, leaving you completely at his mercy. He didn’t waste any time unzipping his pants to free his fully erect cock, attaching his lips to your neck once again while he pulled your panties to the side and pushed his hips forward. Immediately your head fell back against the mirror behind you the second that Frank’s thick cock nestled deeply within your snug walls and a loud grunt from him was followed by a desperate moan from you.

Time was not a luxury you had right now, and as much as Frank wanted to lose himself in you, he had to keep in mind where you were. Wrapping one of his strong arms around your waist, he pulled you closer to the edge of the sink, and while you wrapped your legs tightly around his lower back, he began to snap his hips swiftly. The glass was cold against the exposed skin of your back, and Frank was fucking you so hard, you thought it was gonna shatter from impact.

“Frank-”

He quickly placed his large hand over your mouth and whispered deeply into your ear.

“Shh shh shh, need ya to be quiet for me, baby.”

The sounds of your sharp moans and cries of pleasure were muffled by Frank’s large hand that was clamped over your mouth to keep you quiet. He buried his face into your neck, licking and sucking at your sensitive flesh, biting down gently to keep himself from moaning out. Every low grunt and groan Frank dripped into your ear was pushing you closer and closer to that edge that you wanted to free fall from. He was being rougher with you than he ever had, and it made your head spin. 

Tugging at his belt around your wrists, you let out a muffled whine against his palm. You wanted to touch him, but you were also enjoying this side of Frank too much to really care. Long gone was the gentleman who had picked you up at your door just hours ago with flowers in hand. Frank was fucking you hard and rough, and it was quick and messy, but it was exhilarating. Every time you were with Frank, it was like a brand new experience. He made you feel things you had never felt before, and gave you things you didn’t even know you were craving.

You could tell he was close when his pace started to falter. He began to fuck you relentlessly, and your legs tightened around his lower back. Your arms were starting to ache from being suspended above your head, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to really fucking care. You were far too turned on and dangerously close to coming. Slipping his hand down from your mouth to wrap around your throat instead, he pressed his forehead against yours and spoke lowly while staring deeply into your eyes.

“You gonna come for me, sweetheart?”

You couldn’t hardly speak. The way Frank was fucking you, his hand around your throat, your wrists bound above your head with his belt, the fact that you were in the bathroom of a dive bar; it all rendered you in incoherent mess. All you could do was nod weakly while letting out an obscene moan, staring at him with wide eyes in complete desperation. 

“Attagirl.”

That was all it took for a warm blanket of bliss to envelop you completely and stars to explode behind your eyelids. Frank poured sweet nothings into your ear while your hips uncontrollably bucked against him, and he continued to fuck you deeply through your orgasm. He dropped his hand from your throat and wrapped his other arm around your waist, hugging you tightly to his chest when his hips started to stutter. 

The sound of Frank calling out your name when he reached his own peak was something you would never get tired of. It sent chills throughout your entire body, and it only made it that much harder to not speak those three words that tried to claw their way out of your ribcage.

Frank gently brought your arms down and removed his belt from your wrist, slipping it back through the loops of his jeans before buckling it and zipping up his fly. Wetting a napkin, he carefully cleaned you up, pressing soft kisses along your jawline in the process. A hazy grin stretched across your lips as you slowly slid your hands up Frank’s biceps to wrap around his neck.

“We should make bets more often.”

He let out a deep chuckle as he grabbed your waist and gently lifted you up from the sink, setting you back down on unsteady legs. He helped you fix your dress before grasping your chin between his thumb and index finger, smirking at you.

“You ain’t gotta make a bet for that. All you gotta do is ask.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawkfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

[twistyfish]

prompt~ non-mc reader feeling sad because she feels she lacks the relationship mc has with the lads. requested by anon!

Zayne

Her long, straight brown hair fell in front of her face, and she tucked it behind her ear with slender fingers. Her laughter filled your ears like sticky molasses, and you couldn’t wash it out no matter how hard you tried.

In front of her kneeled Zayne, wiping a cut on her knee with a wet tissue and bandaging it, kissing it gently. You watched as he chided her for being careless and getting hurt.

You wished he would scold you like that.

They stood up and walked away, his arm subtly resting around her waist to support her.

She rested her head against his shoulder. She was so brave. She got injured often because of her profession.

You were an accountant. Your last injury was a paper cut.

The wind blew her hair into Zayne’s face, and you watched him brush it away and arrange it neatly on her shoulders with a smile.

They walked away into the distance, and all you could do was watch.

Sylus

“Can you get my back?” Sylus asked, holding out the bottle of sunscreen to MC.

She nodded and began working the cream into his back, massaging his shoulder blades as she went.

Sylus smiled as she used her strength to massage him. “Nice arm, kitten.”

You sat next to your sandcastle, patting the wet globs of sand together into rough turrets. It was coming together, sort of.

Sylus crouched down next to you. “How’s the castle coming along?”

“It’s getting there.”

“Do you want to come surf with us?”

You hesitated. Truthfully, you weren’t very adventurous. You were a little nervous to ride the waves.

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” MC smiled at you, her surfboard held under her muscular arm.

“Um, no, I’m okay,” you responded shyly.

“Alright. Have fun building, then.” She waved at you and they both turned, running into the waves. MC squealed as the cool water hit her legs, and Sylus laughed his deep, rich laugh. He splashed her, grinning as she made various high pitched noises in response.

You sat with your sandcastle, smoothing the sides with no zeal at all. Your focus was gone. All you could think about were her hands on his back, his grin as he splashed her, their shared laughter as they ran into the water.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Sylus shouting. “Hey! Come in, it’s nice and cool.”

You shook your head.

Rafayel

“Wow, your drawings are ass,” Rafayel remarked.

“Shut up, loser.”

“Look at __’s drawing. It has such a nice composition.”

You felt pride swell in your chest at his compliment. “Thanks, Raf.”

“Of course, cutie. I’m just telling it as it is. Ms. Bodyguard could learn a thing or two from you.”

“I don’t understand how you can get everything so proportional,” MC grumbled.

“Here, let me show you.” He stood up and positioned himself behind her, taking her hand with the pencil in it and mapping out rough lines.

“Just make the general shapes first,” he murmured, hand guiding hers across the paper.

You looked away, trying to focus on your own drawing. You could hear him softly instructing her, and you sort of wished you were a beginner too in that moment.

You mindlessly sketched, and you ended up with a lazy looking cat.

“Oh, is it sad?” Rafayel asked peering over your shoulder.

“No, it’s sleepy.”

“Sleepy all the time, just like you,” he said playfully to MC, elbowing her.

“I’m not sleepy all the time! You’re thinking of Xavier,” she argued back. They continued to bicker as you watched.

Maybe it was a little sad.

Xavier

You rang the bell out of politeness despite knowing Xavier’s door code. You had made some banana muffins, and you wanted him to try them. When there was no answer, you figured you would just go inside and drop them off in the kitchen.

You entered the door code and walked inside quietly. As you passed through the living room, you had to stifle a gasp. Xavier and MC were laying together on the couch, under the blanket.

You immediately looked away, setting the muffins on the counter and moving to tiptoe out of the room. Unfortunately, the rustling woke them up.

“__? Is that you?” Came Xavier’s groggy voice.

“No- yes! Um, I just came in to drop off some muffins. I’m leaving, don’t worry!”

Xavier sat up, the blanket falling off his shoulders and pooling around his bare chest.

Your eyes widened and you turned around.

“Hey, __. Where are you going?” MC was off the couch (wearing clothes, thankfully) walking towards you.

“Yeah, sorry about that. We just got back from training and crashed. We were both exhausted,” Xavier said.

Oh. They were sleeping.

“Sorry for waking you guys.”

“Don’t worry about it. Want to nap with us?”

You paused. “I’m good, don’t worry. I’ll just be going now.” With that, you awkwardly put your shoes back on and left the house. The image of them snuggling under the blanket was cemented to your brain.

That night, you slept hugging a pillow.

[a-killer-obsession]

Hey you know im gonna need AFAB she/her reader with a respectful number 9 with some accidental P and desperate T >:3c and if you can work in some F and W elements too well that would be an added bonus

That's a extra large number 9 McHorny Meal with a boytoy, please enjoy your meal!

Touch of Pollen, Touch of Pearl

Prompt: Sex Pollen + Thighjob + First Time + Body Worship

Additional Tags: afab reader, she/her pronouns, shark anatomy (claspers aka two dicks), masturbation, this came out a little omegaversy lmao, biting, size difference, this is basically a monsterfucker fic, oral (recieving), fingering, forced orgasms, pervert fish?, p n v sex, creampie, cumshot, aftercare, friends to lovers

WC: 7.6k dear god

Event Masterlist

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

You were a little anxious to say the least, pacing the lawn deck of the Sunny nervously as you waited for the scouting party to return. You'd only been on the crew a few months, but you cared about them greatly, and though the island was uninhabited you still held concerns. As the new botanist for the Straw Hats, born and raised in the New World, you knew how deceptively dangerous even just the plant life on these sorts of islands could be, and you cursed yourself for not insisting you joined the scouting party when you didn't draw a coloured straw to be chosen. Grass was flattened and getting damaged in the straight path you walked back and forth, other members idly sitting around on the lawn or stairs but nonchalantly keeping an eye out as well.

Usopp stood on the stern castle deck near the entrance to the aquarium, a telescope in hand that quickly shifted as he caught movement at the treeline. “They're coming back!” He announced, mouth turning downwards to a pout, “I think something is wrong, Robin's fleur is carrying Boss Jinbei”

You rushed up the stairs and grabbed the telescope to look, pointing it to where he'd been looking. Sure enough Nami and Robin were running towards the ship, Robin's arm's crossed and pink petals swirling in the air as giant hands appeared and disappeared in turns, carefully passing along Jinbei between them to move alongside them. He looked unconscious but you couldn't see any blood from this distance, so it was impossible to tell what was wrong. You could see Robin through the telescope as she spotted you, concern on her face as her mouth began to move. You almost yelped as the voice appeared right beside you, her pretty mouth tickling your shoulder where it had appeared as she spoke.

“[Y/n]! Can you hear me? Nod if you can,” the mouth said in Robin's sweet voice, a little panicked sounding which filled you with worry given her usually calm demeanour during times of crisis. You nodded in her direction, still too small to see her properly without the telescope but you assumed she had an eye somewhere you couldn't see. “Good, listen to me carefully. The three of us got hit with some sort of pollen spores, but it only seemed to affect Boss Jinbei. I'm worried about contamination so tell the others to put Boss Jinbei's mattress in the aquarium, then keep everyone clear of us, I mean it. Even Chopper, we don't know yet how this will affect the others if we still have pollen on us”

You gave a stern nod and turned to the others, who were slowly gathering behind you. “Franky, grab the Boss's mattress and take it to the aquarium then come back here. Nobody approach them when they arrive, I have a theory but right now it's not safe, we don't know how contagious they are”

“But I have to treat Boss!” Chopper cried.

“I know Chopper, but we can't have our brilliant doctor getting sick, Jinbei wouldn't want that,” you told him, making Chopper do his blushy little wiggle dance, “they said they all got hit by pollen so they could still all be covered in it, we need to keep our head about us”

“Okay…” Chopper said sadly, kicking at nothing. Franky returned from moving the mattress and joined the others as they gathered in front of the door to the boy's cabin, leaving plenty of space for the scouting party to ascend the gangplank and head to the aquarium. A giant hand appeared on the deck in a flurry of pink petals as they got close, receiving Jinbei from the previous hand and taking him to the aquarium as a trail of smaller hands received him and passed him through the door and out of sight.

“Robin-cwan! Nami-swan!” Sanji cooed as he ran towards the two women ascending the gangplank with open arms. You caught him by his collar, momentarily choking him as you yanked him backwards, throwing him at Zoro who rolled his eyes and hooked his arms under the cook's armpits to trap him.

“Sanji are you stupid?” You chided, “I told you we have to stay clear!”

“Sorry, my darling! I was caught in a spell of love!” Sanji replied, immediately starting to fight Zoro and setting off a fistfight that quickly ended for both of them with a hard knock to their heads from your closed fists, leaving them to sit on the grass and rub their scalps. Robin was saying something to Nami as they came on deck, and Nami quickly disappeared up the stairs and through the aquarium door.

“Robin! What happened!?” Chopper cried, rearing to go to her.

“It was some sort of mushroom,” she panted heavily from the run and straining use of her devil fruit, who knew how long they'd been running. “Nami stepped on it and it let some sort of cloud of spores out, and then Boss Jinbei started getting sweaty and feverish and collapsed”

“Did you see the mushroom?” You asked, a theory in mind but you needed to check your books and confirm the plant first.

“I did, and I'm guessing you have the same theory as I do about its effectiveness,” she suggested.

“Aye,” You replied confidently. “Sanji, Chopper, go to the kitchen once Robin and I are behind closed doors, use the pulley to communicate with Nami. I don't know the exact nature of what he's being affected by right now, but there are many plants and fungi on the Grandline that only affect males, so I believe us women are safe, as well as Brook I believe, since he doesn't have the capacity to be affected by drugs. Brook, go take Nami's place so she can shower, tell her to rinse her clothes and make sure she scrubs her hair well, Robin and I will go to the library to confirm the mushroom”

“What about the rest of us?” Luffy asked, pinky up his nose casually. You were glad to have such a laid back captain who had no problem giving up power at a time like this.

“The rest of you stay in the boy's cabin till someone comes to get you,” you ordered, already starting to leave, Brook long since run off to relieve Nami. “You have to all stay here till there's no chance of contamination. It shouldn't take long, just until Nami and Robin are clean, but under no circumstances is anyone other than myself, Robin, Nami or Brook, permitted to enter the aquarium. Even if Jinbei is cleaned we won't know if what he has is contagious to the rest of the men on board anyway”

“Right!” Usopp declared, hands on hips, pretending that he wasn't terrified and unbelievably relieved that he could just go hide in his bed.

You hurried off to join Robin, the two of you rushing up the stairs, the sound of footsteps and little hooves a safe distance behind you as Sanji and Chopper headed to the galley. You rushed to your shelf and pulled out a few books while Robin described the mushroom in great detail. Small, fat head, vibrant purple, blue spots, bulbous, she described it as being the relative shape and size of a dog's penis, which seemed oddly specific but you didn't question it. Robin searched through one book while you searched another, until she, with her undeniably impressive research skills, found a diagram of the mushroom she'd seen and slid the book across the table for you to decipher the technical jargon that she only particularly understood, being that this wasn't her field of knowledge.

“This isn't good,” you bit you lip as you recognized the page and remembered what you knew of it, “he's been hit by a powerful aphrodisiac, and just as we thought it only affects the males of species that procreate through sexual reproduction”

“It probably bolsters species numbers so it has more corpses to feed off,” Robin said nonchalantly. You shuddered at the incredibly morbid observation but she was probably right. “How will it affect Boss Jinbei?”

“His body is telling him right now that he needs to breed,” you sighed, scanning the page and reading the lists of side effects and potential treatments. “He's essentially going into the mammal equivalent of a rut. It says here the effects can last up to four days until-” you re-read the passage over and over hoping you were reading it wrong but disparingly it remained the same.

“Until what?” Robin asked with great concern as she noted your hesitation.

“Until his body gives out from the strain and he dies,” you replied, voice shakey. Robin was cold and silent as she processed the statement, logical mind in overdrive as she looked for a solution, separating herself from her feelings to keep her wits about her as she often did in situations like this. “What happens when animals are exposed?” She finally asked. “If it wants them to reproduce, surely it doesn't just kill them?”

“It says they mate several times and the effects wear off, if they don't find a mate the mortality time frame is two to seven days depending on the size of the animal,” you reported, slumping into a chair in defeat, already mourning the loss of the helmsman you'd come to really care for. Really, really cared for. Now that you were losing him, your heart was going into overdrive and you regretted never telling him how you really felt. Would he even be coherent enough to understand if you told him now?

“So he just needs to mate then,” Robin said matter-of-factly, like it was no big deal, shaking you from your self-immolating spiral. You brows shot up in surprise, like she wasn't suggesting the fishman just needed to get laid to save his life. “Do you want to do it or shall I? Nami is only interested in women, I don't believe she'll be of help here.”

“Robin!” You exclaimed, vibrant blush spreading on your cheeks as you considered what it might be like to lay with Jinbei. So strong… so… big… it wasn't like it was the first time you'd thought about it either. Robin quirked a brow, she could practically see the cogs turning in your head.

“You like him, don't you?” She smiled knowingly. You gave a frustrated huff and crossed your arms but didn't correct her, making her giggle. “I'll leave him in your care then. I should go shower, but I'll update Chopper on the situation afterwards and say what he says”

“Robinnnn, I can't-” you complained, “I mean… he's not in his right mind, what if he hates me after?”

“I can assure you that Boss Jinbei will probably be the one apologising profusely afterwards,” she smiled, “he'll probably blame himself and claim he took advantage of you. It'll be fine, [y/n], I think he'll be thankful you did it instead of letting him suffer and die. It's not the worst thing to happen, he is quite fond of you after all”

“He is?” You blushed, picking at your cuticles under the table.

“He told me himself he thinks you're quite beautiful,” she assured you, no hint of untruthfulness or malice in her voice. “I should warn you though, I've discussed fishman anatomy with him in great detail for my research and you may find he is quite unlike any human you've been with”

“Ah, yes.. because I have definitely slept with other humans,” you mumbled sarcastically. Robin took a seat next to you and rubbed your hand reassuringly.

“[Y/n] my dear, are you a virgin?” She asked softly, no hint of mockery in her voice, only quiet concern.

“... yes,” you replied in a small voice. She made a little sigh and rubbed the back of your hand with her other, your palm sandwiched between her soft warm ones.

“Are you sure you want to do this then?” She asked, “I don't want you to be uncomfortable. It's a lot to ask of someone even if they had experience”

“It's okay, I think, if it's him,” you replied with a heavy blush, “it's not that I never wanted to, I just never had the opportunity, given my… coloured… history. I've done… some things… just never the whole way. What do you mean thought by ‘he's unlike a human’?”

“Ah,” Robin smiled softly at you, “you see, Boss Jinbei is a whale shark fishman. His genitals are quite like that of a whale shark.”

“Meaning?” You pressed.

“Meaning, he has claspers instead of a penis,” she explained. You cocked a brow, not missing the plural.

“Claspers, multiple?” You asked.

“Yes, two of them,” she answered causally with that usual sweet smile of hers like she hadn't just dropped a bombshell. You must have been cherry red at this point, your face hot with flush. “There is also something else,” she continued, and you wondered how she could possibly have anything more shocking to say than dropping than Jinbei has two dicks. “You are aware of how some mammals lock together during mating, yes?” You nodded anxiously, already seeing where this was going, “Claspers have a similar process, so you may find a little discomfort as he finishes”

“Oh, okay,” you blinked, trying to recall every moment in your life that led to this bizarre scenario. That's what you get for staying on the Grandline you guessed. “What do I… um… what do I do? I mean how do I… how do I please him?”

“Just follow his lead,” Robin assured you, “I'm sure despite the pollen he will be a gentleman. Boss Jinbei has a strong will, a little horniness isn't going to be enough to make him hurt you”

“Okay,” you replied anxiously.

“I'll keep the other's from the aquarium, make sure you shut the pulley hatch though, or the sound will travel,” she winked as she stood, bringing on a whole new round of fluster. “If you change your mind just tell me, I won't judge you if you don't feel comfortable with the situation, I'll take care of him if you find yourself unable to”

“Thank you Robin,” you sighed as you stood, following her out the door. You made your way down the stairs as she headed the other way to head to the bathroom, and you took a deep breath before entering the aquarium. Jinbei was laying on the mattress in the middle of the floor, pushed up against the bar seating that surrounded the mizzenmast running through the center of the room. His kimono was open to the waist, his red sun tattoo on full display, smooth skin dripping with sweat as his chest heaved with heavy breaths. He was unconscious still, Brook carefully dabbing at his forehead with a cold damp cloth.

“Ah! [Y/n]-san! Do you have news?” Brook asked hurriedly, resting the cloth over Jinbei's forehead as he turned his attention to you. You sat on one of the bench seats that lined the half moon room, blue aquarium lights colouring the room in soft lighting that would be romantic under other circumstances.

“We know the mushroom that he was affected by, and we were correct in thinking it only affects males,” you looked at Brook, “sorry, males within their fertile age range.” Brook nodded for you to continue, not taking offense to your attempt at not immasculating him, he understood what you meant. “I can help him, he'll be okay, but I'll need some privacy for the rest of the day and evening. The treatment is quite delicate, I don't think he'd like others seeing him in that position”

“It sounds like you're going to torture him,” Brook half laughed, and you struggled to force a smile for him to keep it lighthearted. In reality, Jinbei's current position, laid out and panting, half clothed and covered in sweat, was having an effect of its own on you, and you felt a little ashamed that you were beginning to look forward to the… treatment… despite the fact that Jinbei was clearly suffering right now. “Shall I leave then?” Brook asked, standing and reminding you how incredibly tall he was.

“Yes, thank you Brook, I can look after him from here,” you hummed, “please ask Sanji to send our dinner up in the pulley as well as plenty of water. I'll also need some clean towels, and probably some more cloths with a bucket of water to wet them”

“Aye aye, [y/n]-san!” Brook gave a mock salute, “please take care of Boss-san!”

“He's gonna be okay, Brook,” you smiled, running a thumb over the back of the skeleton's cold boney hand. You weren't sure if he could feel it but you hoped the motion was comforting anyway. You could tell that Brook was concerned, he was doing his best to come off as nonchalant but you knew he cared a great deal about Jinbei, and could hear the underlying concern in his voice. He gave your hand a squeeze, letting you know he understood the gesture and appreciated it, before leaving to pass on your message and gather things for you.

You pulled your knees up to your chin as you watched over Jinbei. From what the book explained, right now he was going through a process that would usually take several days, his body being pumped full of hormones that would put him into a frenzy when he eventually woke up. For now he would likely be asleep a little longer, so you had a little time to prepare. First you took the towels and bucket of water that were sent up the pulley, setting them aside on a bench with the bucket on the floor. You set the large jug of water Sanji sent up on the bar counter along with the two glasses, and set beside them the lovingly made snacks that were sent up with them. You took the opportunity to eat and drink a little while you could, then, satisfied there was nothing more to be done, you locked the aquarium door, shut the pulley hatch, and removed most of your clothes. They were going to come off anyway, you may as well make it less awkward for Jinbei by doing some of the work now, leaving yourself in only your loose comfortable shirt and panties. You curled up on the mattress beside him, Jinbei making little groans as you pressed against his side. His usually cool skin was almost blistering to the touch, yet it erupted in goosebumps wherever you made contact. You hoped your physical presence could offer him some comfort during his fever dreams, at the very least he would know he wasn't alone when he woke up.

⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆

The mattress shifting underneath you woke you from your unintentional nap, heavy breathing and groans next to you indicating that Jinbei was awake. You realised his kimono was draped over you like a blanket, still warm from being against his feverish skin, but notably that meant he was likely naked. You turned your body to face him, his bare back to you, hand at his front moving frantically, you didn't need two guesses to know why. You could hear his teeth occasionally click together like he was biting air as he made frustrated growls and fisted himself. He nearly jumped out of his skin as you reached over and placed a hand on his shoulder, his smooth skin coated in sweat.

“[Y/n]!” He exclaimed, curling in on himself to hide his shame, “please excuse me! I didn't mean to- I mean I had to- ah, I'm usually more controlled than this!”

“It's okay Boss, you're not in your right mind,” you cooed, rubbing his back soothingly, “you've been dosed with an aphrodisiac, how much do you remember?”

“Ah, we were scouting and then,” his brows furrowed as he tried to fight the horny haze in his brain to concentrate, “Nami stood on something, and there was some sort of cloud, and I felt warm and dizzy. I don't remember anything after that. Ah, are the other's okay?”

“She stood on a mushroom,” you explained, “Robin and Nami are okay, as is everyone else. The mushroom only affects breeding age males, the others are all being kept clear of this room. Right now, you're experiencing the mammal equivalent of a rut. Do you understand?”

“Ah, that does explain my… condition,” he hummed, cheeks flush with embarrassment. Jinbei was strong and brave, even against emperors he showed no fear, but when it came to matters of sexual needs, his confidence was practically stripped from him. He was raised in a generation that instilled a great amount of taboo about all things of a sexual nature, he knew it was just a natural process many experienced and the foundation of how most species continued, but he couldn't bring himself to work past the feeling of shame that sat deep within him for having such desires.

“I know this is… awkward… but you have to let it run its course,” you said softly, “you have to give in, or it'll wear you down till your body gives out. That's why I'm here. I imagine you are… unable to find satisfaction on your own right now, because of the pollen”

“You would be correct,” Jinbei cleared his throat awkwardly, “but I can not ask you to do that. I will die with my honour intact instead, I will not force myself on you because of this”

“Jinbei…” he shivered a little at your use of his name, you only ever called him Boss as many of the crew did, and his name sounded like honey dripping from your tongue. “You won't be forcing me to do anything, I'm offering. I… like you…” your voice cracked a little as you forced out the confession, no time like the present you guessed, especially if this was your only chance to say it. “Robin has offered as well, if you would prefer her…”

“No!” He spooked you a little with the speed he turned over, taking your wrist firmly but not painfully in his large smooth hand, “I, I want you. I woke up thinking about you. Even before I realised you were here, I could smell you, that delicious sweet scent you have,” your breath hitched as he pressed his nose against the crook of your neck, forcing your head to move and unintentionally baring it for him. He took a deep inhale, making a small groan as he caught your scent. “You've always smelt so good to me, and you're so beautiful. So sweet and strong and kind, I care a great deal about you. Which is why I can't take what you're offering, my pearl”

“I can't let you die,” you whispered, pressing your forehead against his as he retracted his face from your shoulder. You shuffled forward so your bodies were pressed together, feeling the long hard forms of his two cocks against your abdomen. It made you ache with need, unconsciously pressing harder against him. “I want you, Boss,” you whispered, “and I want you to be okay. So use me, use my body to fight the pollen, so you can live. You care about me, don't you? Don't hurt me by letting yourself die because of a stupid outdated concept like honour. It's not honourable to let yourself die needlessly, let me help you”

Jinbei made a little whimper as your words soaked in, letting you guide his hand to rest against your ass. You reached down between your bodies, taking his claspers in your small, shaky hand and doing what you could to hold them together, unable to wrap your hand around them properly. He was big, proportional to his large body, each one being about the length and width of your arm from fingertip to elbow, thicker even perhaps, smooth and tapered at the end, witg none of the prominent veins or defined head that a human cock had. He made a stuttered groan as you touched him, his hand flexing on instinct and unintentionally squeezing the flesh of your ass, his hand large enough to cover the whole of your rump. It was just as well he was big, with your face up near his you could barely reach, the base of his cock closer to your knees than your own center, but his cocks were long enough that you could reach the top third of them anyway.

His eyes were shut as you touched him, making restrained groans as you ran your other hand up his chest, till it cupped his cheek, running your thumb curiously over the edge of a tusk. His eyes opened in surprise as you pressed your lips against his, small mouth slotting nicely between his tusks which were smooth against your cheeks. His eyes closed again as he returned the kiss, his lips parting as his tongue pressed against yours, so wide it barely fit in your mouth, sparking arousal at your core at just how big everything about him was. His sharp teeth were no issue as he kept dominance over the kiss, pollen driving his need as he began to buck into your hand, the tips of his claspers finding their way under your shirt till he was sliding against your warm bare skin. Something in him snapped as you let out a needy whine, pollen taking his mind completely as he broke from the kiss and flipped you over so your back was against his front, your core aligned with his. He pressed against your ass, his cocks driving against you as he rutted desperately till he found what he needed, the pair sliding between your thighs and making him growl as he found the pressure he was looking for. He immediately set a fast pace, fucking your thighs hard, hands holding your hips tight as his cocks rubbed firmly against your center, grinding against your clothed clit and making you moan. Your moans only spurred him on more, entirely driven by lust and need, and he could feel the way your panties grew damper with every long pull, the scent of your arousal thicker by the moment and slowly driving him insane.

He made a possessive growl as he tore your panties from your body, making you yelp in surprise, his hands pushing your shirt up roughly and groping your soft breasts as he felt the first drops of your slick against his cocks and made a deep satisfied rubble that reverberated through your chest as he pinned you against him. His claspers were pressed hard against your pussy, slicker with every pull, rolling your clit back and forth between them as they moved, making you whine and squeeze your thighs harder to force more pressure. You couldn't have fought him off even if you wanted to, his hold so tight on you as he moved one hand back to your hip, the other still kneading your breasts and playing with your nipples, that clicking sound of his teeth slamming together returning behind you. A thought occurred to you, knowing he was being driven by instincts right now, and knowing many predator species used their teeth to hold the female during mating.

“Boss, you can bite me if you need to,” you whined, pulling your shirt aside to expose your skin. His nose breezed against your neck again, making you shiver, the clicking sound now right against your ear. Your shirt was suddenly torn open, the remnants hanging weakly from your torso as you felt his teeth nip at your skin. He didn't sink them in like you thought he might, instead just pricking the skin like little needles, barely noticeable past the pleasure he was giving you, making small love bites that only occasionally drew a tiny amount of blood, which he would tenderly soothe with his wide tongue before making a new mark. The deep rumble in his chest continued, almost akin to a purr, making your whole body vibrate pleasantly. He shifted slightly and it had the effect of making one cock zero in on your clit. Previously it'd been sort of ground between them, but now he was making direct contact against it and your coil quickly pulled taught. You fought his hold instinctively against the overstimulation, but unable to escape you had no choice but to let go, gushing over his cocks and shaking hard against him. He groaned as he felt your release and bit your shoulder again, this time holding his teeth almost threateningly against your delicate skin as the ends of his claspers opened like umbrellas and great swathes of cum shot from them, pooling against your thighs and on the mattress in front of you as you made overstimulated whimpers.

His hold only slightly loosened on you, his thick tongue running over your shoulder and neck before shifting so you fell back against the mattress, cum pooling underneath you as the weight on the mattress made it run in your direction. You felt utterly lewd sitting in a pool of his cum, some of it still dripping over your front as you panted, the thick fluid slowly seeping into the bedding below as it cooled. His tongue never stopped moving as he loomed over you, running it over your torso, wide enough that he could envelop an entire breast with one swipe of the wet appendage before sucking it into his mouth, careful of his teeth as he flicked your pert nipples with the tip of his tongue. You were a squirming, panting mess underneath him, the scraps of your shirt pulled from your body leaving you entirely nude underneath him, his tongue travelling further and further down as he licked and touched every part of you. He pushed your legs apart and knelt between them, grabbing your ankles and pulling them up so he could run his tongue over your legs, leaving you with only the upper half of your torso against the mattress as he dangled you practically upside-down. The way he manhandled you made you ache, he could snap you like a twig if he wanted to but his hands were firm and gentle, prying your legs apart as you grew suddenly shy. He gave you a hungry look as he held you open by your thighs, his large hands able to wrap right around them like he was holding no more than a couple of training weights, admiring the vibrant blush on your face as you failed to hide behind your hands, and the way his cum was now coating your hair with the way he was holding you. He kept eye contact with you as he ran his tongue between your folds, making you buck and squirm as he held you tight, lapping at you like you were a frozen treat before zeroing in on your sensitive clit and giving it a harsh suck. The sounds you were making made him rut against nothing, though occasionally you could feel the tips of his hardened lengths against your back whenever his hips jolted forward. The end of his tongue teased against your entrance and you held your breath, overly anxious from having never been penetrated before. He could see your hesitation and despite the cloud of lust, he stopped himself, concerned for your wellbeing.

“Do you want me to stop, my pearl?” He asked, voice husky and deep, making your eyes momentarily flutter shut as you shivered.

“No, don't stop,” you whined, “I just haven't… I've never had anyone there”

“I can avoid that, if you'd like,” he said softly, “there are plenty of other things I can do,” he continued playfully, running his tongue flat over your pussy to emphasize his point.

“No, I want it,” you moaned, reaching up to touch him but unable to reach, arms falling uselessly back to the blankets, “I want you inside me, please Jinbei”

Your hips rolled on their own accord, searching unconsciously for fullness, and his cocks twitched at your neediness. “I'll be so gentle with you, my pearl,” he cooed, the tip of his tongue back at your entrance where you ached for him. He pushed it in slowly, watching your face carefully for any sign of unease or pain, knowing full well his tongue was thicker than any normal human man's cock. He probably should have used his fingers first, but they were impossibly thick as well, so it probably made little difference. At least your previous orgasm had relaxed you a little, allowing him to get about a third of his wide tongue inside you without much resistance, slowly sinking more in as you stretched around it. You were already moaning and writhing at the fill and he hadn't even done anything yet, making a grin spread over his face as he watched you drape an arm over your eyes and grope at your own breast with the other hand.

Finally he hit the thickest part of his tongue, sliding the rest in with relative ease, making you let out a long, deep moan as his tongue began to thrust in and out of you, causing you a type of pleasure that was entirely unfamiliar to you. He barely had to move, making agonizingly slow, shallow pulls and thrusts with his tongue that had your pussy fluttering around him, crying out in pleasure while your honey pooled on his tastebuds. He curled it inside you, pressing against your spongey g-spot and making you see white as you suddenly came again without warning, gushing on his tongue, making him groan as he made lewd slurping noses and drank your release.

“You're doing so well, my pearl,” he praised as he removed his tongue, giving you one more wide stripe of it before lowering your pelvis to his lap as he licked his lips. You could feel his claspers, hard and twitching against your back. Your legs were either side of Jinbei, soaked pussy pressed against his front by design, arousal catching on his curly black tuft of pubic hair as your chest continued to heave with every heavy pant. Your ass was pressed against the base of his cocks, and from this position you could feel how they reached all the way to your upper back, to the bottom of your shoulder blades. There was no way you could take him, it was physically impossible, but you couldn't help your curiosity as you wondered what it might feel like for him to fill you with what he could, especially given the nirvana you'd found with his tongue alone. One of your hands stayed drapped over your face, unable to bring yourself to look at him, embarrassed by how debauched you must look. The other you slid under your back, making Jinbei grunt as you found a clasper and stroked it experimentally.

“Jinbei,” you whined, “want you~”

“Are you sure, my pearl?” He asked hesitantly, bringing a thumb to your wet cunt and pressing it gently against your swollen clit, making you squeak. You could feel how hard he still was underneath you despite how much he'd cum earlier, the pollen needed more from him, he needed another release, and you wanted it too.

“Want you inside me, please,” you moaned, rolling your hips to grind yourself against his thumb. Jinbei's teeth clicked together again, and he shook his head as he fought the suffocating cloud of lust the pollen was causing. Everything in his brain was telling him to grab you hard and use your body till you were fat with his babies, but he couldn't do that to you, so small and fragile and trusting under his strong hands. You finally pulled your arm away from your face enough to look at him, peeking out from beneath your forearm, eyes blown out with lust, your lip millimeters from bleeding as you bit down on it.

“Fuck,” he huffed, knowing full well he couldn't deny you when you were looking at him like that. You shivered with anticipation, you were sure you'd never even heard him swear before, and it made your pussy drip knowing it was your expression alone that made the usually polite, well mannered gentleman curse. He wasn't even sure at this point if it was the pollen or just your body squirming under him that made him feel so aggressively horny and possessive of you, seeing the perfect half moons of small red dashes that littered your skin from his teeth, marking you as his. He wanted all of you, and the way you gripped his cock told him how much you wanted all of him too.

He slid his hand under your rump for just a moment, freeing the clasper you weren't holding, pulling it to the front and letting it fall heavy against you with a wet slap. The base of it gave you something to grind against, which you did eagerly, lubricating him with your arousal while his tip laid between your breasts, precum dripping from it and dribbling down towards your neck. You looked at him as you teasingly craned your neck, swiping your tongue over the end and gathering some of the salty fluid that leaked from it, feeling it pulse against your abdomen as more fluid leaked onto your tongue. You let yourself lay back again, ass still raised in his lap as you grinded against him, licking your lips as you held eye contact. He made a little growl, undeniably turned on by what you'd done, then he grabbed you with a hand under your back and the other under your ass, scooping you up and moving you easily as though you weighed nothing, seating you on the long bench that bordered the aquarium. Your body was almost as blue as his under the soft lighting, and his hands pressed against the underside of your thighs, pushing them up and out so your cunt was on full display for him, pussy slightly gaped from his thick tongue and glistening with honey. He had you practically folded in half, chest and head pressed against the back of the padded bench, ass at the edge of the seating, legs in the air. You would have been embarrassed by how exposed your cunt was but the hungry way he was looking at you overrid any inclination of shyness. He lowered his face to your pussy and ran a wide stripe up it again, letting his tongue continue upwards, running over your stomach and between you breasts, lapping up his own precum until his tongue reached your mouth and he captured your lips in a hungry kiss.

He used the kiss to distract you as he slid two thick fingers inside your pussy, pumping you slowly and scissoring them to stretch you out, the webbing between fingers catching against your edges and assisting with the stretch. He added a third, swallowing the whine you made at the slightly painful stretch, which faded back to pleasure as you adjusted to him. He brought his cocks up to rest against your stomach and you reached between your bodies to take one in each hand, stroking them the pace he was setting with his fingers even if you couldn't fit your hands right around them.

Satisfied you were open enough to take him, he sat back on the balls of his feet, fisting his claspers together in one hand, his hands big enough to reach around both at once with no issue. You bit your lip as you looked at them, so impossibly big, and it was like he could read your mind as he ran a soothing thumb over your inner thigh.

“I don't expect you to take all of me, my pearl,” he assured you, “just some of one will feel devine I am certain. Are you ready my love? You can say no, I won't be upset with you.”

You nodded and bit your finger nervously, letting your knees fall outwards to spread yourself as wide as you could, feet resting on the curved bench either side of you. He took a clasper in each hand, guiding one to rest against you while he positioned the other at your entrance. “It may hurt a little at first, but only for a moment. You'll tell me if it gets too much, right?”

You nodded again and he gave you a soft smile, running a hand up your chest till it cupped your face, holding you so very gently and rubbing his thumb over your cheek and lips as he began to slide his cock inside you. He'd prepared you well, but there was still some amount of stretch, a slight stinging pain as your entrance widened to its limits. He saw the pained expression on your face and cooed soft praises, moving as slowly as he could until he felt his tip press against your cervix, pulling back a little so he wouldn't hurt you by pressing against it. He stayed deadly still until the pain written on your face melted, your expression falling back to pleasure as you appreciated just how full you were with his body connected to yours. When your eyes opened, not even realising you'd closed them in concentration, you found him looking at you with such pride and devotion that you couldn't help but offer him a half-lidded smile, which he returned with his usual toothy grin, making your heart soar.

“Are you ready now, my love?” He asked softly, his smile making you feel significantly less nervous, remembering that this was Jinbei, and you were safe with him.

“Y-yes,” you replied, biting your lip as he began to drag himself back out of you, and gripping the fabric of the bench below you hard as he sunk back in. His pace was agonizingly slow for both of you, barely half of his cock shealthed, the other clasper resting heavily against your abdomen and grinding against your clit with every thrust, meeting with the buldge in your abdomen that made Jinbei's eyes roll back every time he saw it, aroused by seeing himself so deep inside you.

Bit by bit he increased his pace as you grew more comfortable, whines turning to strings of loud moans and cries of his name, making tears in the fabric of the seating below you as your nails sank into it while you held on for dear life. Your entire body was being rocked back and forth as he fucked you, pollen slowly winning out over his better judgement as he lifted one of your legs and nipped at the calf. He had to put all his will power into keeping himself from sinking any deeper into you, but your hot wet walls felt so tight and devine around his cock, the soft skin of your belly giving pleasant friction to the other. The hand not holding your leg was resting at the top of the bench over your head for support, wood creaking under the strain as it threatened to break. He couldn't help but blush when he looked up and saw the fish in the aquarium watching him, a small audience as he fucked you senseless.

“Jinbeiiii,” you whined, pulling his attention from the voyeuristic fish, “I'm- I'm gonna-”

“Let go for me, my pearl,” he groaned, “I'll be right there with you, you're doing so very well”

You went practically silent as you saw white, body arching off the bench and seizing, hands reaching out and grabbing at forearms, sinking your nails into them as you came hard. You felt a swelling inside you as his clasper opened, vaguely registering through your haze as the other opened against your belly, liquid spraying out over your breasts and neck, some even splashing against your face, while more still filled you and dripped from your overstuffed cunt as Jinbei groaned and stilled. Both of you went slack, Jinbei's cocks slipping from on and in you and slapping against his thighs wetly as he pulled away, hands either side of you to keep him from crushing you. He kissed you softly, both of you unable to do any more than exhausted soft pecks in the intense afterglow of your orgasms, cum dripping down your center and leaking from your cunt, pooling on the floor beneath you as he helped you sit up a little better. He looked at the fish above you and gave them a little growl, the school quickly dissipating at threat of being eaten.

You weren't sure how long the two of you sat there in silence, panting heavily and exchanging soft kisses. At some point he redressed, using the cloths and towels you'd prepared earlier to clean you both up as best he could. He frowned at your clothes, torn in his lust-addled haze, making note to himself to replace them, before taking the cape from his kimono and wrapping it around you. He sat on the bench next to you and pulled you into his lap, and you giggled as he hand fed you snacks and water, smiling to himself at how cute you were, a light dusting of pink on his cheeks that you still seemed so trusting of him after the relatively hard fuck he'd given you. His mind felt a lot clearer, the pollen now worked out of his system, but he couldn't find any ounce of regret at what had happened, and neither could you.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

A mark and a promise

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 8

Prompt: Gift

Rated: T

Tags: Fantasy AU; Fae!Eddie; Knight!Steve; Eddie Munson whump; Flirting; Sexual tension; Just a bit of mindfuckery

“Boy. Pretty boy. C’mere.” 

Steve rolls his eyes and makes a show of turning the other way. This has been going on for the better part of the night and it's getting annoying. For a few, blissful moments, silence settles over the great hall, the only sound the crackle of the torches. 

“For all that you couldn’t take your eyes off me earlier, you sure like to play coy now, sweet thing. All I ask is some company, is that-” 

Steve whirls. 

“Alright, enough,” he snaps, stomping towards the small cage. “I am a knight. My father is lord of this castle. I'm not a boy, and I'm most certainly not your sweet thing.” 

The boy in the cage regards him through dark lashes. “But you do not deny that you're pretty? Interesting.” 

Steve sputters. Despite the icy winds howling through the castle, his face feels hot all of a sudden. 

“Shut up,” he snaps. “I know what you're trying to do. You fae are all the same, clouding our minds with your sweet talk and magic. Father warned me you'd do this, I won't-” 

“Yes, yes, he's a formidable man, your father,” says the boy. He attempts to sit up straight, but stops with a wince. The cage is small, and the heavy manacles on his wrists hinder the movement. Iron, Steve knows. The only thing that will keep the fae’s magic in check. Some say its touch burns like fire for them. “What does he intend to do with me, can you at least tell me that?” 

Steve huffs. As if his father would let him in on his plans. “No idea. Send you to the royal court, probably. Gift you to the king.” 

The fae boy ducks his head to let his dark hair obscur his face. “So that more humans can gawk at me while I slowly waste away in this iron coffin? Lovely.” 

Steve doesn’t quite know what to reply, so they lapse into silence. It isn't exactly fair, he guesses. Sure, their races have been enemies for generations, but this boy doesn't look like a high fae lord or warlock. He's rather … scraggly, in fact. A thin, pale figure, dressed in a nondescript gray, pointed ears poking out from tangled hair. The only noteworthy thing about him are his eyes. Deep and dark like a winter night. The reflections of the torchlight gleam in them like stars. 

Steve thinks of how small and forlorn he looked earlier, when the hall was teeming with his father's knights. The real ones, those he takes out on his forays - not the useless son he tasks with guarding a lone prisoner in a cold and empty hall. How the fae boy sat there, head bowed and shoulders hunched, while they all taunted and laughed at him. The ground of the cage is still covered in puddles of stale beer from where they emptied their goblets over his head.

“You could always just let me go.” 

Steve flinches back to the present to find that he has grit his teeth and curled his hands into fists. The boy's eyes are still trained on him. He scoffs. 

“Nice try. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't. You think he gave me the keys?” 

Those unsettling eyes follow his gaze to the padlock on the cage. The boy's lips curl into a smile. When he speaks again, something about his voice is different. Steve can't exactly pinpoint what it is - just knows that it feels like it's seeping into his very bones. Heady, warm and tingly like the first hit of spiced wine on a frosty day. 

“Oh, but you do. You know what it feels like, after all. Being the target of their jokes. Being sneered at and looked down upon, treated like a vile and dirty thing. Like you're not worthy of sharing this world with them when it should be yours by right. You've been putting up with their vanity and their cruelty for so long, and you're dying to pay them back. To put them in their place and show them you won't be treated like-” 

“I said shut up!” 

The dagger is in his hand before Steve knows it, but instead of the boy's throat, it lodges itself in the padlock. Steve watches how it falls open, and the boy's smile goes large. 

“Very good,” he coos, lifting his shackled hands. “Now free me of these.” 

Steve is crawling inside the cage and prying at the manacles before he even thinks to disobey. 

“I'm not doing this because you told me to,” he lies. “It’s only because-” 

He never gets to finish the sentence. 

The shackles fall open, and a wave of sheer, unbridled power sweeps over him, ripping the breath right off his lips. Steve recoils, scrambling backwards out of the cage. 

The man who follows after him is so beautiful Steve is overcome by the irrational thought that he must shield his eyes or go blind, but he can't move. 

“You've made me a great gift, pretty child,” the man smiles. His long, dark curls fall around them as he bends down to cup Steve's face in soft, cold hands. His robes billow like liquid midnight, dark and black. “I'll make you one in return.” 

If his voice felt like spiced wine in his veins, his kiss is like sweet mead weighing down his limbs. Steve is powerless to resist. 

“My mark,” the man says, pecking his lips once more before pulling away. “And my promise. You've spared my life, and I shall spare yours when we meet again. Until then, I bid you farewell, my little lordling.” 

An icy gale sweeps through the hall, making the torches flicker, then die. The hall plunges into darkness.

When Steve’s eyes adjust to it, he's alone in front of the empty cage. His lips still burn with the memory of the man's kiss.

Part 2

More holiday drabbles

[talesofesther]

𝔈𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔞 𝔉𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔢

↳ 𝐂𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠'𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

Aemond Targaryen x Reader/fem!OC

Series Summary: You made a promise to Aemond once, when you were young and naive, and the only friend he'd ever known; yet you abandoned him before you could fulfill it. Between broken bonds, a betrothal, and flames that still burn deep within you; this is the story of how you fell apart and found each other again.

A/N: Things will start to get interesting now, let me know your thoughts. <3

Word count: 4,9k

Masterlist | Previous chapter (prologue)

You breathed in deeply, closing your eyes and leaning your head back with both arms open lazily beside your body, wind flowing quickly in between your fingers. The skies were clear, morning sunlight reflecting against ashen blue scales as your dragon's wings stretched to their full size.

Dancing and gliding in between clouds, the sky was yours.

As you opened your eyes, you were greeted with a sight that would always leave you breathless, no matter how many times you'd be privileged to witness it. The lands below seemed small, castles, houses, and fields afar dwarfed by how far up you were flying. You could see beyond walls and mountains, as far as the horizon allowed. The back of your dragon's head stretched forward in a relaxed manner, seemingly taking in the view just as much as you; the patch of fur in between her long grey horns flew and flowed with the strong breeze.

You reached your arm past your saddle, the palm of your hand laying flat against her warm scales in a loving caress. She cooed, a low groan coming from the back of her throat as she turned her head slightly so her deep blue eyes met yours for only a moment. You smiled. Khamira had grown to be just as big as Meleys, she was all raw power and formidable wildness, and yet, ever so gentle in your hands.

It would never cease to amaze you, how a beast as strong and majestic as a dragon—wings and legs supported by pure muscle, teeth and horns as sharp as daggers, and fire as hot as the hells—could at the same time be this graceful, this agile, and elegant.

Her wings swished with precision, creating ripples in the clouds as if painting a canvas; her long tail kept her body straight and balanced; multiple shades of dark and pale blue shone under the sunlight with each movement of her body. She was poetry in motion, carrying you through the morning sky on her back.

The feeling, the pleasure, of riding on dragonback was incomparable; a mixture of being invincible, untouchable, and yet completely at peace.

You leaned forward at last, uttering a soft command for her to pick up speed and the adrenaline was quick to kiss your cheeks in the form of a heavy wind. Your dragon bomb-dived suddenly, bringing her wings close to her body and her muzzle downwards. An ecstatic laugh escaped your lips as you felt the power of her body moving beneath you, taking you through the air.

She only opened her wings again when you were short of hitting the roof of a tall church, returning to a steady height as you flew fast above King's Landing. The dragon addicted to the rush just as much as you.

If people looked up, they would see nothing but a flash of blue, the silhouette of massive wings and a long tail vanishing just as fast as it came.

For the first time in seven years, you were finally heading back to the Red Keep. Vaemond had called into question Luke's legitimacy of birth, as he was to be Driftmark's heir, prompting you and your family to meet him for the discussion in King's Landing. While the rest of your family came by ship, you chose to ride over on dragonback and meet them there. The swaying of a ship on the ocean's water could make you nauseous, but flying in between clouds always cleared your head and filled your lungs with the fresh air of unabashed freedom.

After bidding goodbye to your loyal dragon as she was guided into the Dragonpit to rest, a carriage took you to the main gates of the Keep. The guards welcomed you with salutes and curtsies, something you were yet to get used to, even with being born into the royal family.

You were headed to the doors of the castle when they were pushed open by an older, bald man. He walked up to you and bowed his head. "Welcome home, my lady. Prince Daemon and Princess Rhaenyra are already inside, they've gone to speak with the King."

Greeting him back with a nod, you smiled softly; "Thank you..." You dragged the word, raking your head to remember who exactly this was.

"Caswell, my lady," he kindly finished for you.

"Thank you, Lord Caswell."

The castle itself was still as grand and majestic as you remembered it to be, in some ways it didn't even feel like the last time you were here was so many years ago. The torches flickered softly along the grand hallways, casting a warm, golden glow on the stone walls as you walked aimlessly. Although you already had a designed room for your stay here, you refrained from changing out of your riding clothes, choosing to stay in black breeches and a long overcoat rather than a silken dress.

You eventually got hold of Jace and Luke who were also wandering about the castle and reminiscing on their childhood here. Despite your differences and disagreements during early childhood, you'd grown closer with both boys during your time at Dragonstone. Quickly enough, between dragon rides at sunset and playing together day in and day out, they became almost like brothers to you.

"It's so cool to be back here," Luke spoke, excitedly walking ahead of you and Jace, "I wonder why we haven't visited more."

"You know why, Luke," Jace raised a brow, his voice holding a smidge of warning to it. "It's not like we parted on the best of terms."

Immediately you knew what he was talking about. You recalled it as if it had been yesterday. Laena's funeral, the commotion in the dead of night, the red of blood, stitches piercing the skin of the prince who'd lost an eye. Your heart sped up then, hands feeling clammy and cold at the same time.

Aemond. He'd be here too, surely. It's been far too long since you've seen him, yet not long enough for you to stop counting the years. Part of you wondered if he did so too.

Something like guilt started weighing down on your stomach, because there had been letters exchanged over the years, mostly holding empty promises that you'd see each other again soon. A young hope that was snuffed out as you got older and wiser; it never happened, it was out of your reach. And for many seasons now, there had been no letters at all. You weren't sure who stopped first, there just came a day when you knew not to send another letter his way, because you wouldn't be getting any back either.

"Why don't we check out the training yard?" You suggested with a grin, "To remember the times when I kicked your butts there." With a giggle, you pushed Jace's shoulder halfheartedly.

"Hey, hey, I don't remember any of that," Jace countered, holding back a smile of his own, whilst Luke was already chuckling with a hand over his mouth.

─── ⋄✧⋄ ───

The sound of swords clashing was already loud and sharp as you descended the stairs to the training yard; many people were there, some sparring with each other as others watched and clapped and gossiped.

"Looks smaller than I remembered," Luke commented as he glanced around.

"It looks exactly the same," Jace concluded, skipping the last few steps of the stairs and landing on the gravel grounds of the yard. "Come on, you two."

The older of the brothers ran forth to check a dent in the stone walls, a mark of their old training days here. You, on the other hand, stopped to check out the weapons displayed for choice on the tables; maces, morningstars, swords, and daggers.

A faint smile came to your lips. The smell of smoke and sweat, the clash of metal, the grunts and cheering of the soldiers—it all reminded you of cherished memories. Firstly, of the first lessons your father had ever given you, sword all too big and heavy in your small hands, you were only five, yet he insisted that regardless if you were a boy or girl, you should learn how to fight; you still remember the first time you were finally able to best him in combat, you were ten, it took you five years but you had done it; Daemon smiled the biggest on that day, telling everyone how his daughter was a born fighter. And secondly, came the memory of your sparring sessions with Aemond when you were young, he'd refused to put up a fight in the beginning, afraid he'd hurt you; but he started to give you a fair fight when you'd bested him the second time around; you still remember how he'd run around the castle, searching for you and then holding onto your hand to lead you to the training yard, "You're too slow," he used to say with a smile, "If I don't drag you around we won't be there on time."

Part of you wished those moments were infinite.

By the time your mind returned to the present, Luke and Jace had joined you. Jace began picking up the weapons on the table with an excited grin; yet Luke seemed on edge, glancing around himself and at the piercing gazes on your backs from the people here. You felt it too, the judgment and the whispers.

"What's wrong, Luke?" You asked, one hand reaching up to touch his arm comfortingly.

The boy furrowed his brows in discomfort, head hanging low. "Everyone's staring at us."

A soft grimace passed over your features as you tilted your head at him, eyes glinting with silent understanding. In part, you knew what he was feeling, you'd received your fair share of odd glances when at court as well; you were a royal prince's daughter yet had hair in the shade of the warmest grey that almost resembled brown in certain lights, and eyes as dark as the night sky, so of course, people would talk.

"No one would question me being heir to Driftmark," Luke spoke, his tone a mix of frustrated and defeated as he still avoided your gaze, "If... if I looked more like Ser Laenor Velaryon, than Ser Harwin Strong."

"It doesn't matter what they think," Jace at last spoke up, ducking his head to meet his brother's eyes.

"He's right, Luke," you reassured, "Don't mind them."

A sudden crash of something heavy hitting a wooden shield caught your attention then, and all three of you turned around to watch as a small crowd gathered around two people sparring. Luke and Jace ran toward it to watch, so you followed close behind, squeezing yourself past and between a few people so you didn't have to stand on your tiptoes to catch glimpses of the fight.

One of the two you recognized almost instantly, Ser Criston Cole, you had never particularly been too fond of him. The other, who still had his back to you, you hadn't recognized, even if there was something familiar about the way he moved. His long silver hair bounced over his shoulders as he dodged Cole's attacks quite expertly; his movements swift, calculated, and still somehow elegant. The shield held by the mysterious man broke and he threw it aside without a second thought, going in for another attack. The sword cut through the air, Cole's morningstar slammed into the ground, and finally, the silver-haired man turned in your direction.

A teasing grin and an eyepatch framed the sharp features of the young man, his single bright eye glinting under the hazy sunlight as he held the sword with a firm grip, ready for another attack.

You felt as if all air suddenly left your lungs and refused to come back, your lips hanging open as your gaze was all but locked onto him. Aemond. You'd recognize him anywhere, in any lifetime, you feared. He looked so different yet somehow still the same; his hair was much longer, features older and sharper as he'd grown over the years; his harsh scar, you noticed, was now fully healed, and yet still evident as a reminder of the fateful night he'd claimed Vhagar and lost his eye; but his smile seemed to be the same you were used to, that mischievous tilt of lips he'd wear against his opponents.

A smile of your own began to stretch your lips and you took half a step toward him before stopping yourself, your heart beat painfully against your ribs and in your ears, bringing a nearly nauseous twist to your guts. It felt as if your body had trouble picking an emotion upon seeing Aemond again after all these years.

You'd wished, prayed even, for the day you'd finally be able to meet one of your best friends again; the lonely, outcast boy you had grown so fond of over the course of mere months. The one you had shared most of your afternoons in the Red Keep with, the one who'd steal you away to the library to share tales of the old dragons. Yet seeing him now, after so many seasons of pure silence, you had no idea where you stood with him.

The fight ended with Aemond holding the sharp end of his sword against Cole's neck, staring him down as a dragon would with its prey.

"Well done, my prince," Ser Criston spoke, rather breathless from the exertion, "You'll be winning tourneys in no time."

"I don't give a shit about tourneys," Aemond answered back without pause, his tone filled with finality and eye holding a piercing stare. "My lady," he said then, voice just a tad softer, whether he meant for it or not. Twisting the hilt in his hand, Aemond lowered his sword, his gaze now landing on you. "Have you come to train?"

You were unable to hold back a small gasp as he addressed you so directly. Your whole body tensed up, part of you wanted to answer yet any and all words were completely tangled in your tongue. You could faintly feel Jace's hand on your shoulder yet you barely registered the touch, unable to tear your eyes away from Aemond. And he held your gaze with his unwavering one, almost challenging you to break the connection.

It felt all kinds of wrong, for this to be your reunion and first words to each other after so long, for Aemond's words and gaze to be this... cold. You weren't sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn't this.

You were saved by the sudden opening of the heavy doors of the gate behind you. Soldiers marched through with proud strides as they escorted Vaemond Velaryon into the castle.

Even as you turned around to watch their entrance, you could feel how Aemond's gaze didn't leave you even for a moment.

─── ⋄✧⋄ ───

A storm raged outside during your first night back in the Keep, you didn't sleep much, tossing and turning in bed and pacing around the spacious room they'd given you. Part of you almost wanted to step outside into the dark hallways of the castle and head to Aemond's room. It would be improper of you, but that's not why you did not go.

When the morrow came at last with the sun rising on the horizon of King's Landing, it was time to head into the throne room to discuss what you had come here for, the succession of Driftmark.

A small crowd of lords and ladies had already gathered in the large room, with Otto Hightower standing before the grim Iron Throne. The image of the seat of swords, being highlighted by the sunlight coming through the tall windows, would always make a shiver run down your spine.

You walked in with steady steps, sensing a few eyes land on you as you smoothed the fabric of your dress—hardly your preferred choice of attire, but Rhaenyra might just have your head if you showed up in your riding clothes. She, her sons, and your father were already here as well.

Daemon spotted you from the corner of his eyes, he squeezed Rhaenyra's hand once before stepping away from her to walk toward you.

"Father," you spoke in a low voice when he met you halfway. Over his shoulder, you caught sight of Aemond, who stood near the Iron Throne with his family; for a small moment, you held his gaze, even if you couldn't possibly read it.

"I was starting to think you wouldn't show up," Daemon raised his brows at you, a rather amused grin playing on his lips.

"Oh, you know me," you chuckled quietly, shrugging your shoulders as you continued walking to where Rhaenyra waited, "I wouldn't miss court drama for anything."

Daemon snorted, uncaring if his laugh would attract the attention of the nearby lords, "Yeah, tell me about it." He brought a hand up to rest between your shoulder blades, guiding you through the remaining steps. "It's like they look for reasons to break any resemblance of peace we might have."

You hummed at his words, biting back a laugh of your own, "Se iēdrosa, Rhaenyra ivestretan nyke ao gaomagon naejot mōris se lyks aōla gō īlen āzma." ('And yet, Rhaenyra tells me you used to raise quite the trouble yourself before I was born.')

"Kessa, sȳrī, īlen drējī tolī kirimves skori paktot zirȳ, mērī." Daemon defended halfheartedly. ('Yes, well, I was admittedly more fun than these people, at least.')

"Hen rhinka," you mumbled, stopping beside Rhaenyra and greeting her with a warm smile. ('Of course')

From the other side of the room, the one-eyed prince watched. He'd kept his eye fixed on you as soon as you stepped through the throne room doors. His hands clasped behind his back tightened their grip with each step you took. And for each of your steps, his heart beat twice as hard, heavy and hurting for an escape.

It was true that you had grown into a stunning young woman over the years; enticing curves, soft hair falling over your shoulders, freckles still dusting your cheeks and nose, delicate hands holding onto the fabric of your dress. Many gazes turned your way whenever you walked into a room, it came as no surprise to Aemond, even if it bothered him.

And yet it wasn't just that, no; he could see so far beyond, that same spark in your eyes lingered, the one he'd see each time he'd ask you to tell him the story of how you found your dragon; that same smile that was so contagious still had the same sway to it; your mere presence still made his heart race and hands itch to touch you, as it always did.

Aemond thought, perhaps wished, he would have forgotten all about you over the years. You had abandoned him, after all. You had abandoned him, maybe at a time when he needed you the most. His only friend, and you never came back.

The prince had waited, for nights and days on end, he'd stare out the windows to the horizon and past the sea, hoping with all he had that one day he'd spot the blue hue of your dragon's scales in the distance. And he knew he'd cry, and run to you, and hold you close no matter who was watching. But it never happened, you never came. And the years kept on going by, years of which he kept a close count. By year three, he decided he wouldn't feel within the right to hug you anymore. By year four, he decided he wouldn't cry anymore. By year six, he decided it would be best you didn't come back anymore.

Alas, perhaps he could have gone to you. But he hesitated, he knew he wouldn't be welcomed in Dragonstone; and after a few years went by, as much as Aemond would never admit it, he lacked the courage to go after you. In the most fragile parts of his heart, he feared you'd react as all ladies of the court did when they looked at him; with wide-eyed gazes and poorly concealed whispers about his ugly scar and 'off-putting demeanor', as they'd say.

Yet he had missed you, oh he missed you. In a way that he'd walk into every room hoping to find you there. And now, it finally happened. You came back to King's Landing, but you didn't come back for him.

Aemond watched as you walked into the room, your father meeting you halfway and guiding you to your family. The prince felt a tightness build in his throat, he tried to gulp it back, squaring his shoulders. Even after all these years, all it took was one look at you, and Aemond's resolve crumbled. All his attempts at putting you behind him were suddenly futile, if the speed at which his heart was racing was any indication.

Yesterday, when Aemond spotted you in the small crowd of the training yard, he nearly lost his balance, nearly lost the fight. Seeing you again after so long brought an onslaught of confusing feelings to his chest—one of them being petty bitterness, perhaps even betrayal, despite not having the right to feel so, for seeing you stand beside Jace and Luke so amicably—he hardly knew what to think or do; all he knew was that he was angry that you'd abandoned him. Or perhaps just hurt, but broken things tend to have sharp edges.

─── ⋄✧⋄ ───

You held back a scream as the severed head of Vaemond Velaryon fell from his body, staining the floor of the throne room with deep crimson blood. Your father had unceremoniously beheaded the Velaryon knight after he accused Rhaenyra's sons of being bastards. You watched the gruesome scene with wide eyes, goosebumps on your skin, and a hand clasped over your mouth.

"Disarm him!" Otto Hightower screamed to the guards, who readily took to their weapons and surrounded Daemon.

"No need," the Rogue Prince uttered all too calmly, cleaning the blood off the blade of his sword with the hem of his clothing. He then extended said sword to you, without bothering to look in your direction.

You hesitated for only a second before taking Dark Sister from him, and once you did so, Daemon raised both hands in surrender; yet a smug smirk still played on his lips.

You held tight onto the hilt of his sword, until your knuckles turned white, watching as the room filled with fearful whispers and terrified gazes of everyone around you. All eyes were seemingly glued to the pool of blood on the floor that only got larger by the second.

"We are done here," Viserys spoke with finality to the best of his ability, before falling back on his throne as the pain of his wounds filled his decaying body.

Slowly and hesitantly, people began leaving the room, a certain eeriness lingered in the air. From afar, you met your father's gaze, and he simply gave you a curt nod, which meant you'd be giving him his sword back in private, later. He'd told you once; "People don't usually fear women with swords, even if they should. Therein lies your advantage."

Beside the Iron Throne, a few steps away from you, Alicent ran to help her husband, Aegon followed after the guards who began removing the lifeless body, Helaena skipped to the main doors with her hands covering her ears, and Aemond... Aemond had his eye burning a hole in the back of your head.

You would be able to feel the weight of his gaze on you from a mile away, you had been feeling it since you took the first step into this room. Part of you hoped he'd have come to you already, you weren't sure what you were expecting exactly, but so far the words he'd spoken to you in the training yard had been the only ones he'd spoken at all. And you were starting to think that, if you didn't go to him, you'd remain forever far apart.

You took a deep breath to steady yourself, and then another, and one more, tapping the hilt of Dark Sister with your pointer finger until you built up the courage or until your palms grew sweaty. A sorrowful feeling still lingered deep within your chest, because this was Aemond, the same Aemond you spent nearly entire days with during your childhood, be it training together, sharing stories, or hiding away in the library. You shouldn't be feeling hesitant to face him.

It felt almost as if he had been waiting for you, because as soon as you turned around to face him, Aemond raised his chin a tad, blinking slowly as he watched you walk over to him.

All you could hear was the beating of your heart as you came to stop in front of him, holding tight onto the sword in your hands, its end resting on the floor as you kept it between you and him. "Hello... Aemond." It was the best you could do, voice still too unsure for your liking.

For a moment, Aemond seemed to be hesitating just as much as you. His eye flicked with an emotion you couldn't name, but it was quick and gone as soon as it came. "My lady."

The formality felt wrong and unwanted, like taking a thousand steps backward from what you had once been to each other. Your lips parted but you didn't quite know what to say, so for a moment, you just looked at him, at the new him. The long hair fell over his shoulders, eyepatch covering the deep scar, his perfectly straight posture, and tense shoulders. You saw then, that there was an undeniable wall between you, that Aemond had his guard up and was keeping you at a safe, far distance. It hurt, more than you had the right to feel.

"I'm- It's good to see you again," you stumbled over the words, trying a smile.

Aemond hummed, giving you an almost imperceptible nod in return. For long beats, that was all. He refused to look you in the eyes. "It's been a long time," he chose to say eventually, voice devoid of too much emotion.

Distantly, you felt the back of your eyes burn. "Seven years," you said in nothing but a whisper, as if you could only admit the unfairness of it at a certain decibel level.

"And four months," Aemond finished, his voice just a tad tighter and strained, breath running shallow as he strived to keep his face impassive.

His words took you by surprise, you couldn't help the way your lips parted and the way your heartbeat quickened. He'd kept count, too.

Aemond pursed his lips with something resembling a small pout, he glanced at you briefly as he slowly started walking towards the doors of the throne room, silently beckoning you to follow, his hands still tightly clasped behind his back.

You kept at his side, choosing your words carefully; "I hope... you've been faring well, my prince?"

A low hum came from Aemond again, "As well as a half blind man can be, yes." He stole another glance at you, feeling his heart swell at the fact you'd kept in mind to stay on his good eye's side. "I assume your time at Dragonstone has been a most joyful one?"

You caught the bite at his words then, the concealed hurt. A sigh fell past your lips, the sound of Valyrian steel against stone each time you took a step and tapped Dark Sister on the floors now becoming sharp and loud, as the room was empty, save for you and Aemond. "It was, at times, yes. But I also missed the liveliness of the Keep... on most days." I missed you, you refrained from saying.

Another hum, another beat of silence, as you neared the doors. "I hear you came on dragonback." Aemond observed.

A small smile tugged at your lips; "I did. I've always favored the skies over the seas."

If you looked at Aemond, you'd see him mimicking your soft smile for once. "On that we agree."

Once you reached the main entrance, Aemond stopped, and you had a feeling that regardless of which way you were headed, he'd be going the opposite direction.

He held his stance, chin high, shoulders tensed, hands behind his back. His breath ran shallow and shaky, however, hanging on by a thread under the weight and warmth of your presence; so close.

And you looked up at him, with big and vulnerable eyes. Part of Aemond had always admired how you had a habit of wearing your heart on your sleeve. And he was well aware that if he held your gaze much longer, he wouldn't be able to hold himself together.

"I will see you again soon then, my prince." You spoke with a tight lipped smile.

Yet what were simple words to you, brought back the memories of the last time you'd promised to see him soon, and instead left him alone for seven years. Aemond's sight grew blurry at the edges, and before you could see the tears collecting in the bottom lid of his eye, he cleared his throat and made his way around you.

You watched, with a heavy heart, as he walked away from you, one hand reaching up to his face as his steps quickened.

Your stomach dropped with a mix of guilt and longing, wondering if the distance between you had become one too big to ever be mended.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Next chapter

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Scary Little Christmas

Warnings: non/dubcon, alcohol, humiliation, spanking, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You make a mistake while cooking Christmas dinner.

Character: Frank Castle

Day One of the December Daze Challenge. Prompt - i didn't know the egg nog was spiked! + don’t look at them, why are you looking at them? look at me. they’re not going to help you. - source

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You pour yourself another glass of the rich eggnog. It’s unlike any you’ve had before. Luxurious almost. You sip on the clear mug of the festive fuel as you flutter around the warm kitchen. The stove sends a radiating swelter through the space, along with the scent of turkey and thyme. 

You set the cup down and flip on the stove light. You have a look at the turkey through the window. You take the thermometer and stand, gripping the handle as your head ripples oddly. Ooh, it must be the heat. You should open a window, yet the blistering cold hardly sounds much better. 

You open the door and reach through to poke the turkey with the tip. You wait until the temperature pops up. Almost there. 

“Peach,” Frank’s voice drawls from the front room. 

As always, you are diligent in your response. You rush you to look in on him as you press your sweaty palms to the front of your apron. You give a sheepish smile. 

“Yes, sir,” you say. “Bird’s almost done.” 

“Not too worried ‘bout that,” he wiggles his can at you. “Get Bill too.” 

Your Christmas is small. Just you, him, and his best friend. An old marine buddy who sleeps as much on your couch as in his own bed. You don’t mind, he knows how to keep Frank mellow. 

“Of course, honey,” you take his can, a swish of dregs still in the bottom, then take Billy’s glass. As you weave around the table, you stumble over your own toes.  

“Eh, slow down,” Frank warns, “don’t need ya makin’ a mess.” 

“Yes, sir,” you reply. It’s a call-and-answer. You can’t leave him unheard. 

You go into the kitchen and dump what’s left in the can. You rinse it and put it in the recycling bin. You take a new one from the fridge and slide it into his coozy. You mix Billy a new drink from the bottle he brought with him. 

You return and serve Frank first. Billy smiles as he accepts his glass. “Smells delicious,” he comments. 

“Thank you, Billy,” you step back and blink, your lashes seeming to catch each other. “It’s a pretty big turkey so there’s a lot to go around.” 

“Good, I’m starving,” he slaps his flat stomach then sips from his glass, “that’s good. You make the best drinks.” 

“Just coke and whiskey,” Frank grumbles. 

“Sure, but it’s a good balance,” Billy raises his glass. 

“Thank you, sir. Uh, that eggnog you brought is pretty good. I’m on my third glass. I know Frank doesn’t like it very much,” you say. 

“Eggnog?” Frank echoes. 

Billy chuckles, “oh yeah? You like it?” 

“Sure. I haven’t had any since I was a kid.” 

He laughs again, “did you read the label?” 

Frank stiffens and slurps from the can. You look at him and shake your head. “Kinda.” 

“It’s Baileys, sweetheart. 60 proof. You been drinking it straight?” 

“You brought her alcohol?” Frank sits ups. 

“I brought it for everyone. I was being a good house guest, Castle.” 

“You been drinking?” Frank turns his sneer on you, knowing Billy will meet him with the same. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know--” 

“You telling me you didn’t taste the rum?” He snarls. 

You blink and glance at Billy nervously. He shrugs and sips his whiskey. 

“Don’t look at him, why are you looking at him? Look at me. He's not going to help you.” Frank barks. 

You flinch and face him. You clasp your hands together. “I don’t drink sir, I wouldn’t know--” 

“You talking back to me?” He sits forward and reaches to put his beer down. 

“No, sir. I’m sorry. I should’ve asked before--” 

“Get over here,” he points in front of him. “And shut your smart mouth.” 

Your lip trembles as you nod and put your eyes down. Usually, he’s until Billy isn’t there, or at least, you are somewhere private. You know it’s bad because he isn’t. 

You shrink down, curling your shoulders and approach him. You’re all too aware of the other man in the room. Just as conscious of his full attention. As you near Frank, he grabs your wrist and wrenches you forward. You whine as you stagger. 

“Don’t be goddamn stubborn,” he growls. 

You snivel and apologise again. 

“Get yourself over my knee. And pull that skirt up while you’re at it.” He commands. 

You obey. You lay across his lap and reach back to lift your skirt. He just as quickly grabs your panties and swipes them down your ass. You whimper again, your thighs quivering as you’re exposed to the room. To Billy. 

Frank spreads his calloused hand across your ass. You brace yourself as he lifts his arm, leaving your skin cold. The first strike is scalding. You cry out as your flesh stings. You keep your head down as he does it again. Spanking you so hard that you feel it in your spine. 

“You know better than that,” he reprimands as he lays each slap. 

When he stops, he keeps his hand on your fiery skin. You don’t dare move. You stay draped over his lap as the noise of the football game continues on around you. 

“Go on,” he gives a lighter tap. “Get dinner on the table. Game’s getting good.” 

You lift yourself, pulling up your panties as you keep your eyes on the floor. You’re too humiliated to look at Billy. As you drop your skirt. You sense him shift in his seat and it makes you wince. You flee to the kitchen. 

The turkey is done. You take it out and blink away tears as you carve it. You sort out light and dark meat on a platter and carry it to the table. You arrange all the fixings in serving dishes; sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, carrots, beans, turnip, cranberry sauce, gravy, stuffing, and buns. 

You hesitate as you cautiously peek into the living room. 

“Um, sir, dinner--” 

“Go on, wait for us,” Frank waves you away, his eyes fixated on the television. “Wanna see this kick.” 

“Yes, sir,” you whisper. 

You go to the table and sit. You’re patient as you wait for them. Billy comes first, appearing through the kitchen as he brings in his glass with a helping of the eggnog. You look away shamefully. 

“You’re right, sweetheart. It’s pretty good,” he sets the glass down as he sits. 

“Yes, sir, very,” you agree. “I’m sorry I drank so much.” 

“Well, I brought it for that very purpose,” he affirms. 

Frank finally comes in. He claims his chair at the head of the table. You get up and step up next to his shoulder. 

“Can I fix you a plate, sir?” You ask. 

“You know what I like.” 

You take his plate; dark meat, potatoes, carrots, gravy, a bun, and some stuffing. You butter his bun then sit down. He doesn’t move. 

“Well, we got company,” he sneers. 

“I’m sorry, sir. Billy--” 

You go to get up and Billy waves you off. “I’m a big boy, I can serve myself.” 

“Big boy?” Frank echoes under his breath. 

Billy snickers and shakes his head, “jeez, Frank, it’s Christmas. Have a bit of holiday cheer.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do. I’m not a child,” Frank snaps. 

“Fuck if you don’t act like one,” Billy retorts. 

“Big boy. Think you’re a fucking big boy,” Frank repeats. “I’ll show you a man.” 

The table lurches as Frank stands. You stare at him as he reaches for you. He grabs your upper arm, his fingertips dipping into the bruises already there. He rips you up to your feet and moves you around the table in front of him. He kicks the chair behind him away as he hits it. 

“You don’t need to take it out on her, Frank. What’s the problem--” 

“I’m showing you what a big man is,” Frank grabs the back of your neck and bends you forcefully. Your stomach crushes his place and you feel the moisture sopping through the layers of your apron and dress. “You come in here, givin’ her that poison--” 

“It’s the holiday. Just a treat--” 

“You both shut your fucking mouth,” Frank tears your skirt up above your ass. “I see the way you look at her. I hear the way she fawns over you. ‘Oh, Billy, thank you’,” he mimics you meanly. “Well, I’ll show you what you’re never going to have.” 

You stare at the wall as Frank tugs your panties down again. He kicks your feet apart and pinches your ass. You squeak as he splays his hand against your flesh and pokes around your cunt. You close your eyes as he brushes your entrance with his rough fingertips. 

He pushes two fingers inside of you and you whine. He wiggles them then slides them out. You hear the clank of cutlery. You blow out between your lips as Frank’s weight shifts around behind you and he pushes his tip between your cheeks. 

He guides himself down to your cunt and bucks his hips mercilessly. He splits you with a single thrust. You gnash your teeth as he jerks again, bottoming out with a grunt. You grip the edge of the table and hold your breath. 

A knife scratches on porcelain. You hear chewing. You lift your head as Frank thrusts again. You stare at Billy as he scoops up gravy, potato, and turkey in a single bite. He sucks the fork clean and smiles. He's entirely unbothered by the gruff display. 

“The fuck are you doing?” Frank puffs but does not relent. The table jolts with his aggression and Billy picks up his glass to keep the liquid from sloshing. 

“Well, I don’t want my food to get cold,” he says. 

Frank growls and frames your hips. He snaps his pelvis against you and grunts. “Goddamn, Bill, you always were a goddamn freak.” 

Billy laughs and takes a gulp of the eggnog. He swallows and lets out a sigh, “well, you know, I won’t mind if there’s leftovers. I'll be happy to eat them up.” He winks and Frank pumps into harder. 

“Fucking bastard,” he snarls and his flesh slaps you loudly. “Peach, you keep looking at him but you remember who you belong too. “He bends over you and loops his arm around to grab your chin. He lifts you, arching your back as he forces your head up. He ruts into you relentlessly. “Remember, it ain’t fucking him.” 

[angelfic]

Heyyy

I don't know if your still doing this but if you are, I would LOVE a Mattheo Riddle, mutual pining, prompt 1. Love you so much.

ask and you shall receive😚💌

mattheo riddle x reader + mutual pining + “who did this to you?”

➺ part of my 2k milestone writing game

The castle is silent when you make your way to the Astronomy tower. Over the last week, you’ve figured out the best possible route to get there after curfew without bumping into Peeves or the Baron while avoiding any particularly loud portraits.

Ever since Hermione started pacing around the dorm while knitting, the Muffliato charm has been rendered useless and the clicking of the needles has driven you crazy. Combined with Fred and George’s experiments in the common room until early hours of the morning, the Astronomy tower is the only place you can get a moment’s peace.

Your footsteps into the tower become hesitant though, when you spot a wisp of smoke coming from behind one of the pillars. After taking a few tentative steps further, you realise with a jolt that it’s none other than Mattheo Riddle sat there, cigarette loosely held between his fingers. You recognise him from the barely visible angle pretty quickly, owing to the fact you’ve found yourself staring at him from afar more times than you’d care to admit.

He doesn’t turn around, flicking at his cigarette and when you shuffle, making a noise, he lets his head fall back to rest against the pillar. “Enzo, if you’re here to pester me again, you can fuck off.”

“Er, not Lorenzo,” you reply, voice quiet in the echoing tower. Mattheo sits up straight immediately, twisting around to look at you with wide eyes. “Sorry…”

“It’s fine,” he says quickly, giving you a hint of a smile. He nods over to a spot near him. “You can come sit if you want.”

You contemplate politely refusing since you probably won’t get any work done with Mattheo right in front of you, but another glance at him has your feet moving of their own accord.

Once he comes into full view, you notice in the moonlight that Mattheo’s nose shows the remnants of dried blood, there’s a bruise blossoming on his cheekbone and his knuckles are split open. It isn’t an unusual sight and you’ve often seen him around the castle either in the middle of a fight or with cuts and bruises as a result of one, yet you still find yourself staring.

Mattheo raises an eyebrow and smirks, despite the cut on his lip. “What, have I got something on my face?”

You blink, silent for a couple beats before clearing your throat. “Who, uhm, who did… this… to you?”

He shrugs, bringing the cigarette back to his lips to inhale. “Some Ravenclaw prick this morning.”

“How come you haven’t healed yourself?” you ask, tilting your head in curiosity. “You normally do by this point.”

Mattheo’s lips quirk up in sort of a pleased smile, his eyes crinkling. “You pay attention to me, do you?”

“No, I- It’s just,” you stammer, fiddling with the corner of your planner and avoiding his gaze. You most definitely do pay attention to him, but you’d much rather jump off the Astronomy tower than admit to it. “You’re always getting into fights. It’s kind of hard not to.”

It isn’t clear if he believes you or not, since his face still displays an unwavering smile, but he nods slowly before answering your previous question. “Enzo usually does it. The healing spells.”

You consider this and hesitate for a few seconds, biting your bottom lip in nervous habit before abruptly standing up and walking over to the Slytherin. Plopping down next to him, you take your wand out of your pocket, which he eyes warily.

“I know some healing spells,” you explain. Raising your eyebrows in question, you point your wand at his face and wait for his consent, which he gives in the form of a nod. Starting with his lip, you mutter “Episkey.” The cut seals itself up, so you do the same with his knuckles before using ‘Tergeo’ to siphon off the dried blood around his hands and nose.

“Back to looking flawless?” he asks with a cheeky grin and you choke out a laugh, surprised at how relaxed he’s being with you. Mattheo isn’t as brooding as the rest of his friends, but he certainly isn’t all sunshine and giggles with people he isn’t close with. And it’s not like the two of you have ever conversed before, so you’re a little more than puzzled. Not that you’re complaining. “What’s had you so exhausted this week?”

“Hermione’s been staying up knitting and I can’t sleep through it like the others,” you sigh, moving back to sit against the pillar like Mattheo is. This is your first night coming to the Astronomy Tower though, so you furrow your brows and turn to Mattheo to tell him exactly that. “How do you-”

“You’ve been nodding off at breakfast,” he says, matter-of-fact. You don’t know how to respond, opening your mouth but not having anything to say. Mattheo notices your loss for words and swallows, suddenly sheepish. The tips of his ears have turned a light pink and he shuffles, making your shoulders touch slightly. “I pay attention to you too.”

“Oh,” you breathe out, heart about to burst out of your chest. You look down to where his hand is on the floor next to yours and in a brave move, you move your own so your pinkies are touching.

Mattheo is silent when he interlocks your fingers, meeting your eyes. His smile reappears, one that feels reserved for you. You’ve never seen him look more gentle before, and when he finally reaches over to kiss you in the quiet, moonlit tower surrounded by the stars, you begin wishing you’d started losing sleep weeks ago.

[bellaxgiornata]

Stay in Bed

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!Reader Word Count: 1.4k [Tuna-Tober Masterlist]

Tuna-Tober Prompt: Shaking

Warnings/tags: sick Reader, smidge of hurt/comfort but mostly fluff, and bossy Frank

Summary: You wake up sick and Frank demands you rest.

a/n: I was sick when I wrote this and craving Frank, and then this turned a bit more fluffy than angsty. Oops! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Shivering beneath the sheets in bed, your hands tugged them higher, dragging them all the way up to your chin as you struggled to get warm. Even with the sweatshirt you'd thrown on in the middle of the night when you'd first begun shaking, you couldn't seem to find any relief from the chills repeatedly wracking your body. Not wanting to disturb Frank’s sleep with your continual shivering, you'd long since slid all the way to the edge of your side of the bed in an attempt not to disturb him.

As you lay there quietly still freezing beneath your layers, you tried to swallow the lump that felt like it was stuck in the back of your throat, but your tongue grappled with the movement. Despite the glass of water you'd gotten up and chugged in the kitchen not that long ago, it moved sluggish in your dry mouth. You winced at the painful scratch a moment later when you managed to swallow, no longer able to lay here and deny that you were indeed clearly sick today.

Beside you, you felt the bed dip further from Frank's weight, the sheets rustling as he rolled over onto his side. Even with your eyes still closed you could practically feel his eyes on you, scanning over the way you were huddled up beneath the blankets.

“You good, sweetheart?” he asked, his gruff morning voice greeting you. 

You shook your head against the pillow, another chill racing up your body and causing another round of shaking beneath the sheets. “No,” you croaked. “I don't feel too good this morning.”

The bed dipped further and caused you to open your eyes at the movement. You watched as Frank slid closer towards you along the mattress, noticing the downturned curve of his lips and the look of concern written in his features as he clearly examined the pathetic expression you knew was on your face.

“Why’re you so far away?” he asked. 

“Didn't want to bother you,” you mumbled.

Frank pulled a face at your words, his hand reaching out of the sheets as he rested the back of it against your forehead. The corners of his lips curved somehow further downwards, but your eyelids lowered at his touch. His hand felt so deliciously warm that you couldn’t help but press your face back into it.

“You're burnin’ up,” he told you, the back of his hand still resting along your forehead. “And what the hell d'ya mean ‘didn't want to bother me,’ sweetheart?”

Your brain took a moment to register the question, but as you lay there enjoying the heat from Frank's hand that he’d now lowered to your cheek, another chill surged through you. Curling your legs higher up to your chest, you shook miserably beneath the sheets.

“I'm freezing,” you explained quietly. “Didn't want to wake you with my constant shivering.”

“Goddammit,” Frank cursed under his breath. “I don’t give a damn ‘bout that. If you need somethin’, you wake me. Got it?”

“But you need sleep, too,” you weakly protested.

“Don’t need that much to function,” he countered firmly. “You’re more important.”

Releasing a soft sigh as Frank’s hand slid its way down your cheek, your eyelids fluttered open again. Still laying along his pillow, Frank stared back at you with concern in his eyes as his hand continued to make its way towards your shoulder. The heat of his large palm through the blankets was pleasant, but it sent another shudder straight through you and had you shaking once more beneath the sheets.

“It’s just a cold, Frank,” you told him.

“Don’t give a damn,” he grumbled. “You’ve got a fever and you’re shivering. You should stay in bed, sweetheart.”

You groaned audibly at his suggestion. There was far too much that still needed to get done today, especially if you were still feeling like shit tomorrow. You knew it wasn’t realistic to leave all the errands and chores for Sunday–and you certainly didn’t want to be spending a whole day doing everything.

“Can’t,” you told him, already trying to sit up in bed. “Need to get groceries. Vacuum. Clean the kitchen and bathrooms–”

Frank’s hand on your shoulder gripped just tight enough to stop your movement. Pausing mid-sentence, you saw his eyes narrow back at you before he gave a firm shake of his head.

“You’re stayin’ in bed,” he ordered. “I’m not lettin’ you get up and do any of that.”

“Frank, we need groceries,” you countered. “Food won’t magically appear in the house.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “I’ll get the groceries. And I’ll clean the house. Not like I can’t.”

Pushing against his hand, you once more tried to get up. “There’s two loads of laundry I still need to fold,” you continued. “And I need to wash another two more or we won’t have clothes for the week.”

Frank chuckled lightly, his hand still pushing you back down in the bed. You frowned as your head once more landed back on the pillow, your eyes focused on where he was sitting more upright beside you. Another chill slammed into you and you curled further in on yourself, shaking once more beneath the sheets.

“Wouldn’t mind you goin’ naked all week,” Frank teased.

“Frank,” you scolded.

“I got the laundry, sweetheart,” he assured you with a grin. “I can take care of it all. Don’t worry ‘bout it. You just stay here and sleep.” 

Removing his hand from your shoulder, you let out a faint whine at the loss of the heat from it as Frank began to get up. You watched him push the sheets off of himself, sliding out of bed in nothing but his dark boxers. Your eyes scanned over the muscles of his back, fixed on him as he walked over to the dresser and began to pull out a dark tee-shirt. 

“I’ll grab you some water and some cold medicine,” he said, turning around towards you as he tugged the shirt over his torso. “Then I’ll throw in some laundry before gettin’ groceries. I’ll check on you when I get back before taking care of everythin’ else.”

With a defeated sigh, your eyes followed Frank as he walked over to the closet. He slid it open and pulled out a pair of jeans before slipping them on. You curled up further beneath the blankets, your eyelids beginning to feel heavy already. It didn’t help that you hadn’t slept well last night, too busy shivering. 

“It’d go faster if I helped,” you pointed out.

Frank’s head darted up when you spoke, a stern set to his mouth as he finished tugging his jeans up his legs. “All you’re allowed to do,” Frank began seriously, “is stay in bed and sleep. You got that? If I come back and see you’ve been up, I’m draggin’ you right back to bed, sweetheart.”

“Oh?” you asked, a grin slipping onto your lips as another shudder ran through you. “Don’t tempt me with a good time.”

Frank zipped his jeans up, his head tilting to the side as his eyes narrowed at you from across the bedroom. There was no amusement on his face and your smile immediately faltered.

“You think I’m jokin’, sweetheart?” he asked. “I’ll only say it once more. You stay in bed.”

Expelling a sigh, you rolled your eyes at him before snuggling further beneath the sheets. “Alright, alright. You win,” you grumbled, closing your eyes and tugging the blankets up to your chin again. “I’ll rest instead of poking the bossy, grumpy bear today.”

Frank snorted at your comment, the sound drawing a smile wide across your mouth. You knew despite his brusque words that he just wanted you to get better, because deep down the man had a strong desire to care for someone–and that someone just happened to be you.

“You do that, sweetheart,” he ordered. “Just focus on getting better.”

Frank Castle One Shot Tag List: @heimtathurs @linamarr @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @leikelle @pinkratts @1988-fiend @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @stilldreaming666 @will-delete-this-later-probably @yarrystyleeza @pone21 @millennial-birkin @harleycao @kezibear @justanerd1 @sadest-bookshelf @loves0phelia

[lavenderspence]

silly poker night reveals | A.H.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader | Word Count: 1.8K

Content warning: basically just funny, or crack, alcohol mention, gambling addiction mention

Summary: A poker night with the silly crime men gets disrupted when a certain someone decides to prove he's not a psychic.

Characters: Aaron Hotchner, Spencer Reid, Patrick Jane, Richard Castle, Seeley Booth, Harvey Specter

A/N: One day, I just really wanted to write a fic with all my favorite silly crime men and have them be snarky to each other, and that’s what I did. This was literally written for the fun, for the vibes, for the hell of it, and then I just could not, not make it about my husband too. So, even if you’ve only watched one of the shows, give this a read, I think it's fun. enjoy🤭

and thank you to @reidsstargirl for beta reading this 🥺💕

masterlist

“You’re late.” You said after you pulled the door open. A rumpled blond was sitting in front of you - a white dress shirt, a black vest, and a gray suit jacket thrown over his shoulder. 

He flashed you a lazy smile, all teeth, “Yeah, well, when have you known me to be punctual?” He pushed past you, stepping into the apartment, with no care in the world.

His eyes ran around the room, finding it empty of any other presence, “You little minx, you lied to me.” He turned around, eyes running through your body. 

You smiled, eyes sparkling, “Yeah, well, I had to get creative if I wanted you to be on time, Jane. You have just enough time for a power nap, go enjoy the couch.” You threw his words back at him, and then waved a hand around, gusting to the emerald couch. 

You made your way to the kitchen, picking up a half-full glass of champagne. Walking around for a second, you looked at the man on the couch and waited for the 15 minutes until 7:30 to pass, so you could welcome your other guests too. 

You were waiting on Aaron and Spencer - they were coming straight from work, deciding to stay around an extra hour after you to finish up. Harvey was flying in from New York, Castle was driving down, and Jane was already snoring on your couch, and Booth was coming after closing a case. 

You arranged these poker games once every two months, depending on how all your schedules aligned. You’d worked with all of these silly assholes at one point in your life. Sometimes, they needed some time to just goof around and play some games, nothing serious. 

A few other of your colleagues joined occasionally - Rossi and Morgan loved the snark, and Emily was a fan of disturbing the testosterone with you from time to time. But all of them were busy, so it was just you and the usuals tonight. 

12 minutes later, you were welcoming everyone in, and Jane was rousing from his nap, looking even more rumpled than before. 

Spencer and Booth took their usual places in front of the TV, where you’d already queued a baseball game, and left them some snacks. The others each took a place at the table. 

You usually played just one game, so you took your place as the dealer and shuffled the cards. 

The conversation was sparse for a few minutes while you dealt the cards. 

“Why’s Clark Kent not playing?” Rick asked all of a sudden, gusting to Booth with his head. Booth usually joined the gathering every few games, still not entirely comfortable coming every time. His addiction wasn’t something that you’d brought up or were looking to bring up during a night like this. He usually stayed away from the table, engrossed in a game of baseball on tv, or bothering Reid for any useless facts and calling him a squint. 

“Let him be Rick, he needs the night out even if he isn’t playing.” Your answer was vague and it would stay that way as long as Booth wanted to be there and stay away from the game. 

“And the kid?” It was Jane’s voice, and he raised a hand and pointed at Spencer. He was usually sitting the games out too, since the last time you and Hotch had played with him he’d hustled you. 

“Go on, tell him.” You prompted Spencer, as he bookmarked the page he was reading. 

“I’m good at poker.” It wasn’t convincing and it wasn’t the truth. 

You shook your head with a laugh, “Nooo, Jane’s good at poker, Castle is good at poker. What are you good at?” You asked, your eyes meeting Aaron’s for a second. 

“I'm good at counting the cards, and banned from several casinos in Las Vegas, Laughlin, and Pahrump.” Aaron’s lips twitched, a barely there grin appearing for just a second before it disappeared again. 

“Can I borrow him for a poker night with my author buddies? Maybe even Kate? I really need a win.” Castle asked. 

“He’s not winning against Kate, Rick. She will sniff him out before he even sits at the table. Now, Ryan and Esposito, on the other hand, you can easily steal some money from.” You told him as you took a sip from your drink. 

Everyone else was having a drink - whiskey was the preferred drink at your table, Booth was having a beer and Spencer was sticking to water. 

“Anything to drink Jane?” You asked again. 

“Chamomile tea, two sugars please.” 

“You do realize this is a poker game, and not an afternoon tea with Her Majesty, right?” Harvey’s usual snark was making a comeback for the first time tonight. 

“But her Majesty’s sitting right there.” Jane's chin jutted towards Rick. It was no secret that out of every man currently in the room, Rick was probably the most pretentious one, closely followed by Harvey.

“Haha, very funny.”

“I didn't lie, did I? I highly doubt that the Ferrari parked downstairs can be bought on a government salary.” Quipped Jane.

“How do you know it's not Harvey's?”

“Because I'm not a pussy driving a bright red Ferrari around New York City, thank you very much.” Harvey threw a few chips in the center of the table. 

“Well, said Ferrari costs anywhere between 70K and 120K. A Special Agent’s salary is around 135K, and 170K a year for Supervisory Special Agents. So realistically, yeah, we can’t afford it.” Spencer shrugged, turning a page in his book, not even phased by the looks everyone was throwing at him.

“I like this kid, he’s such a squint.” Booth laughed and gave Reid’s shoulder a little pat. Spencer tensed for a second but quickly relaxed again. 

“Dammed it, I overpaid 30K for this one.” Castle scoffed, shaking his head. 

Harvey produced a business card from somewhere and slid it toward Rick. 

“In case you need it. Fair warning though, get on my nerves, and I’m giving you to Louis.”

“Aww he has a heart.” Rick pouted.

“Never repeat that, never.” The brunette warned.

“And a lot of snark.” You smiled, looking around. They all might have serious jobs during the day, but they were all extremely silly when they were off of work.

The game continued on for another 15 minutes, conversion flying by until Booth’s voice rang around you.

“Okay Jane, no offense, but I need to know. What’s your shtick? What made the FBI want to hire you as a consultant?” Seeley asked, turning a sobriety chip in his hand. 

“Ugh, offense.” 

“Oh come on,” Booth waved a hand around, “I’m one of the best sharpshooters out there,” you rolled your eyes and so did Rick, “Hotchner’s an ex-ADA, Y/N’s a weapons expert and a linguist. Reid over here is basically Einstein.” 

“Well, actually, Einstein’s IQ is believed to be somewhere between 160 and 180, and mine’s 187, so technically, I surpass Albert Einstein.” Seeley wasn’t happy being interrupted again, but he let it slide, used to being interrupted by his own team.

“So Jane, what makes you such a special asset to the FBI? You're not still pulling the psychic card, are you?” To anyone, it might seem judgmental, the way he asked, but you knew it was anything but. He was curious, but he also valued his job too much not to ask. 

Jane leaned back in his chair, laying his cards face down and his hands on top of them. He looked on over you, head to toe, and then his eyes focused on your left - to Aaron. 

You saw his eyes shine for a second, and shook your head at him, already knowing what was going to come out of his mouth. 

“There is no such thing as psychics. Just a very good eye for reading people. Like for example, all night Hotchner’s been a broody, quiet bastard, safe for any time Y/N talks. His eyes light up and he relaxes back into his chair.” You watched Aaron’s posture too tight and reached a hand under the table to lay over his leg.

You were glaring daggers in Jane's direction, but once he was on a roll, there was no stopping him. “Earlier, when she put his glass down, his fingers on the hand closest to her body, twitched. His cologne is expensive, freshly applied - he probably has a spear bottle in his office.  He's been checking his watch, waiting for the night to end, so we'd all go home. Not him though, he's staying over.”

He played with the edge of his cards as he watched all eyes turn in your direction. 

“Oh, and the murderous look he's been giving Harvey every time he catches him looking at Y/N a bit too closely. Also, the clenching of the jaw - seriously knock it off, you won't have teeth forever.” Jane warned before he leaned back into his chair, looking just a tad too proud of himself.

The silence was defeating for a few moments, no one dared to utter a word.

“I don't think they wanted that to be shared just yet.” Rick muttered

“No shit.” Aaron's fingers wrapped around your own as he gritted out.

“And I didn't want to be lied to, but alas…” Jane added, flashing you a grin.

“Oh, you petty asshole.” A grin was making its way onto your face and you didn't know why.

“Oh, I'm about to become even more of an asshole - full house.” He threw his card in the middle of the table, close to the chips.

“Awww, you really are an asshole.” Rick leaned back in his chair, defeated and pouting.

“Takes one to know one, Dicky.” He smirked.

“Are you okay with this?” You turned around and asked Aaron quietly, for a moment forgetting the room full of men you’d worked with over the years.

“I'm good, although being profiled wasn't my idea of fun for the night.” He admitted just as quietly, reaching to push your hair away.

“I'm sorry.” He went to close the space between you before you heard the scraping of chairs.

“Okay kiddos, mom and dad need us to empty the apartment. Go on, out the door.” Seeley announced. You rolled your eyes at his bullshit before you started giving goodbye hugs. 

“If Hotchner's the dad, who's the daddy?” Harvey asked jokingly as he pulled you into a hug.

“Ask Louis tomorrow.”

“I didn't need the mental picture, thank you.” He shuddered and walked towards the door with the rest.

“Don't ask dumb questions then.” You called out, before you turned towards the good Doctor, “Oh and Spence? Keep this on the down-low, would you?” You asked, still not exactly ready to share this with your team, even after having the whole thing come out this way.

He smiled sheepishly and scratched at the back of his neck, “Yeah…too late.” and just then both your and Aaron's phones went off. 

There was no question about it, there was a fun morning waiting for you tomorrow. 

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[theswissgirl]

from here on until forever - Demetri Volturi

Demetri Volturi was the first ever guy I had a serious fictional crush on on, like it was bad there were so many scenarios I created in my head but there was one that repeated in my head like a never ending movie

And I'm going to write it now

a timeline through the movies like key moments from each film (that obviously features him and my own plot) and the relationship is slowly going to build from there.

And I plan on posting it in parts so New Moon is part 1.

Character:

Name: Evangeline Swan (picture her as you want)

Sister: Bella Swan

status: human (will be changed)

Vampiric ability : seismic sense (later on)

Mate: Demetri Volturi

word count: 3.7k

and obviously all credit to the author of The Twilight Saga and everyone involved in the process of the movies.

___________________________________________________________

New Moon : The Start of Forever

You were sat in the yellow sports car which Alice Cullen had hijacked and was operating with dangerous speed towards the city of Volterra, Italy, where you knew nothing good was going to expect you when you arrived.

Lush green fields of grass and trees could be seen in your peripheral vision, there was something so scarily calming about it. But of course, Bella was too busy bouncing nervously in the passenger seat to admire the scenery, holding onto the dashboard harshly "I'm guessing you didn't rent his car?" she asked Alice.

You snickered quietly.

of course she didn't

"I figured you wouldn't be opposed to grand theft auto" Alice replied swiftly, briefly glancing over at Bella, who was beginning to look a little nauseous from the curves and pot holes in the road, "Not today" Bella rushed out.

Suddenly, you noticed Alice's eyes begin to glaze over and your curiosity was engaged, she was having a premonition.

Bella caught wind immediately.

"What? What do you see?" Bella asked her vampiric friend, a small hint of anxiety in her voice as she slowly feared for the worst and she had a bad feeling her vampire boyfriend had set some sort of plan in motion.

"Alice, are you okay?" you asked her, speaking up for the first time in a while.

Alice brushed you off, "They refused him" Alice said, narrowing her eyes in concern.

"Sooo" Bella pushed.

"He's going to make a scene, show himself to the humans" Alice said, glancing at both you and Bella

"that can't end well" you mumbled, meeting Alice's eyes in the mirror and having your thought confirmed as Alice nodded her head in agreement whilst keeping a steady eye on the prevailing road conditions ahead, steering the wheel smoothly and precisely.

"No.. when?!" Bella's voice was sharp with angst.

"He's going to wait until noon, when the sun is at it's highest" Alice let out a small gasp as her vision came to an end, making you think that she saw something upsetting.

You may not have liked Edward for all the shit he put Bella through, but you weren't the kind of person who would wish suffering on anyone.

"God Alice, you gotta hurry"

"There's Volterra"

___________________________________________________________

Bella rushed off to save her boyfriend through the sea of red coats, as per the tradition of St. Marcus day, celebrating the expulsion of vampires. You however, stayed with Alice and looked for a spot to leave the stolen vehicle.

Alice turned to look at you seriously as she covered every inch of her exposed skin, which was mostly her face, "Evangeline I want you to listen carefully to me, when we get to the castle do not do anything to attract attention" she said, looking you straight in the eyes.

you nodded wordlessly, worry growing within you as you sat still in the backseat of the car and feeling it come to a halt just behind the massive castle where the Volturi resided.

You weren't going to question her, you were about to step into the layer of vampires and you wanted to do everything in your powers to come out alive.

"Come on, let's go" she said and climbed out of the car, prompting you do the same and following behind her as she navigated through the areas covered with shade.

Time felt like it passes too fast as you were suddenly in front of a door with a very old and wooden looking latch "remember what I said" Alice said suddenly before breaking the latch and opening the door, stepping inside and you following right on her tail.

"Come guys, its a festival, you wouldn't want to cause a scene" Alice said smugly, whilst you awkwardly tried to close the door behind you but giving up after 2 seconds when the stupid thing did not want to listen.

Suddenly, your movement froze and you felt like the small hair on your skin was beginning to dance on the back of your neck, making an intense shiver run down your spine before spreading all over your body like a tsunami devouring anything in its way.

You looked up to find the source of this sensation, skipping over the beautiful old and italien structure when your eyes finally settled on a blonde man, dressed from head to toe in black. What actually caught your attention was his blood red eyes and how hauntingly captivating they were, even more as they met yours.

"Enough" a set of footsteps could be heard clacking on the ground and you watched as a young girl approach, pulling her hood from her head.

"Jane" Edward said quietly, acknowledging her presence.

As Edward's voice registered in your brain, you snapped your eyes away from the beautiful blonde individual and averted them to the ground, a small blush growing on your face in the process.

"Aro sent me to see what was taking so long" the girl, Jane, said and looked over Bella and you with bright and bloody eyes, not as beautiful or inviting as the other ones, before she turned around and began walking back to where she came from.

"Just do what she says" Alice whispered to you as you began to walk alongside her, your breath hitching in your throat as you walked past the blond vampire again, even more so when he started walking next to you.

Your heart was having a personal fiesta in your chest, the pace it was pumping at made you think you were about to fall to the floor from cardiac arrest, and it was all because of him.

Butterflies grew rampantly fast in your stomach, your fingers trembled as almost irresistible itch to just "accidentally" touch them to his was difficult to shove aside and your entire body felt like it was coming alive

And no words had even been exchanged yet.

After an elevator ride with a charged atmosphere, you found yourself walking down stone made stairs, the staircase being dimly lit by the light just outside the door.

You tuned out the small conversation Edward and Bella shared, choosing to primarily focus on not tripping and making a horrible first impression on the beautiful you may or may not already have a crush on.

You felt your neves growing as the more you felt like you approaching the belly of the beast that were the 3 king of the Volturi, especially since Alice told you the stories of what happens those who are exposed to the world of vampires of if you betray it.

The receptionist greeting you as you walked out had you snapped out of your thoughts and your eyes, on their own accord, flittered back to the breathtaking individual who walked beside you.

But the off-putting thought? she was human.

"is she human?" bella asked not-so-quietly, looking at Edward in his fancy red robe which you thought looked ridiculous on him.

"Yes"

"Does she know?"

"yes"

"Then why would-" Bella cut herself as realization dawned on her, "she wants to be".

"And so she will be" a shiver went down your spine as you heard him speak for the very first time, and it made your heart palpate faster. His voice was the right amount of deep and adorned with an english accent, making him all the more enticing.

You felt like there was an invisible cord pulling you with a prepostourley strong force towards him, and the more you tried to heed Alice's warnings about the Volturi, you find yourself beginning to lean more and more in the opposite direction.

Suddenly, a hand snaked its way across your back and settled itself on your waist, tracing small and delicate circles on whatever exposed skin was accessible to him. Almost as if to assure that you won't be hurt as long as he was there.

And the surprising part? you felt safe with him.

"Or dessert" Jane said and you found yourself being glad that you were protected.

Jane pushed open two gigantic wooden double doors and walked into a massive throne and of course, on two majestic chairs sat the 3 volturi kings.

Aro, Caius and Marcus.

Aro seemed to be excited.

Caius was glaring at visitors with annoyance and anger.

Marcus looked... well, rather somber.

Alice had tried to grab your arm and make you go in the same direction as her, the beautiful was quicker and pulled you closer with whilst moving to somewhere in the back of the room and away from the action.

Bella sent you a questioning glance, wondering what you were doing but you had no answer for her so you just shrugged your shoulders and smiled reassuringly at her.

"What a happy surprise! Bella is alive after all" Aro said, his tone chipper as he clapped his hands together, a little too chipper for greeting someone who knew about the existence of vampires...

"Isn't that wonderful? I love a happy ending" you watched Aro approach Bella and Edward, biting your lip in anxiety as your sister was dangerously close to having her life ended.

You weren't aware of it, but your hand subconsciously grabbed ahold of his sleeve and squeezed the material tightly in your grasp.

Aro grabbed ahold of Edwards hand, "they are so rare" he said before his eyes widened and glazed over and it reminded you of when Alice experiences one of her visions .

"La tua cantante, both of the swan sisters" he said, eyes flickering over to you in an instant with newfound curiosity bright in his eye before he decided to make his way over to you.

"My dear Demetri, it seems as though you found your mate" He said, stopping in front of you and looking you dead in the eye, making you shift a little closer to you to seek safety.

"So thats his name, Demetri. Suits him beautifully" you thought yourself.

"Yes my lord" Demetri said, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly but enough to make you crave more and be closer to him, even if you didn't understand why you wanted to close to someone who eats your kind for breakfast.

Aro's eyes go to you and you freeze, you couldn't decipher that look in his eyes, curiosity but combined with something else and you weren't sure if you wanted to know... or witness.

"Their blood appeals to you both" he started and you noticed a change in his facial expression "it makes me thirsty" you froze and moved closer to Demetri almost automatically.

"Aro can read every thought you've ever had, with one touch" Edward interjects, his voice making you startle in surprise and your gaze went to him, seeing that he's had his eye on you and Demetri, as well as Alice and you sent her a small smile to let her know you were okay.

Aro turned to look at him "you are quite a soul reader yourself, Edward. No, you can't read Bella's thoughts" he glanced at Bella another time "fascinating"

"I would love to see if you are an exception to my gift as well, would do me the hohor?" Aro extends his hand to Bella and you watch her take a tentative step forward, placing her hand in his.

You watch with nervousness and anxiety as Aro lowers his head and closes his hand, most likely trying to rifle through her memories one by one but he won't be successful, you knew that.

"Interesting" he pauses.

"I see nothing".

Maybe that was a good thing.

Aro takes a few steps backwards, interlacing his hands in thought "let us see if she is immune to all our powers" he says and an unsettling grin grew on his face as he looks at jane "shall we, jane?" and you could swear your heart leaps into your throat and panic consumes you.

"No please don't" you breathed and surged out of demetris hold and towards your sister but strong arms wrapped around your frame in an instant and coiled tightly, immobilizing any movement and leaving you thrashing to get away.

"No" Edward growled and lunged at jane, only to freeze on the stop and his body begins to contort painfully, as if his body was being squeezed into a little ball and he falls to his knees.

"Stop" Bella demanded with a fearful tone "no please stop" she pleaded and tried to run to edwards side but was stopped by Jane's brother, Alec.

"Stop, just stop hurting him please, please" her voice grew louder every second that edward appeared to be in more pain, his face completely strained as he fought against the onslaught waves of pain Jane sent in his direction with one steely eyed glare.

"Jane" Aro said that Jane obeyed instantly, stopping her ministrations against edward.

"Go ahead, my dear" aro said eerily softly and suddenly, Jane looked at Bella with excitement.

"This may hurt just a little" she said calmly and you began thrashing in demetris hold again when you realised what was going to happen

"please let me go" you pleaded quietly as you watched Bella prepare herself, a look of determination in her eyes and much like a python, the more you moved in his arms, the tighter he held you to him "please calm down mia cara, she won't come to harm" he whispered softly in your ear, his voice warm and somehow comforting and it sent shivers down your spine.

Aro lets out a laugh and claps his hands "Remarkable" he breathed "she confounds us all".

"So, what do we do with you now?" then, he looked at you.

"With both of you?".

you huddled closer to demetri at the threatening glint in Aros eyes, almost doing it instinctively.

"You already know what you are going to do Aro" the oldest and kind of depressed-looking spoke up first with a monotonous tone in his voice, as if this whole ordeal bored him.

The blonde king spoke next "They know too much, they're a liability" he said before glancing at you "the younger swan will be spared as she is Demetri's mate, but she has to be turned" he demanded and your stomach tightened with dread.

did you want to be changed? were you really willing to throw a whole chapter of your life away to be with someone you met an hour ago?

Aro sighed wistfully "thats true" he agreed before casting a glance to a burly vampire, giving him a look "Felix" was all he said and Bella was released from Alecs grip

only to be flipped so she was standing protected behind Edward and he lunges at Felix, tackling him to the floor with ferocity and then you felt a rush of wind, suddenly feeling cold.

You looked to the side and saw that Demetri had a hand wrapped around Alices throat in a vice-like grip, not letting her escape and you frowned, she must've tried to intervene.

But with Demetri guarding Alice, you felt exposed and unsafe in a room full of vampires which would easily kill you if given the command, damn you really got comfy in his arms.

Every time edward was slammed into the marble floors, small and tiny cracks grew along his skin, like a porcelain vase that was beginning to shatter and you winced as the cracks and tears grew louder.

And then Felix had him in a headlock, ready to tear off his head and bella let out a cry of desperation "Please, no, no, please, plese!" she cried and aro gave the command to stop felix, hearing the plea in her voice "kill me, kill me, not him" she rushed out and inhaled shakily.

your head turned faster than a cobra striking its pray, you couldn't believer her words, how easily she was willing to give up her life for the man she loved but what about you? were you at the center of her priorities too?

"Bella no, don't say that" you breathed and fought the rising tears as you went to stand by her side but you only got a glare from your sister, so this is what it came to be.

Suddenly becoming a vampire didn't seem like the worst idea.

Aro stalked towards bella with slow and deliberate steps, a confused yet a look of awe in his eyes "how extraordinary, you would give up your life for someone like us, a vampire, a soulless monster"

shivers went down your spine and a burning sensation tingled by the back of your head, you turned your head to look and saw demetri had his eyes trained on you whilst still having focus on keeping Alice captive with is hand wrapped firmly and tightly around her throat.

Guilt consumed you when your first thought was not centred around Alice and her safety but rather the man who had the potential to cause her harm if she so much as she attempted to squirm and break free, the thought of that was enough to get you to turn your head and focus on Bella and Edward again.

But all you then saw was a blur wizzing forward and slamming into another member of the Volturi and you quickly realised edward pounced on him, most likely to protect bella.

(skipping ahead)

Edward was spared from being destroyed and stood with Bella once again and Demetri stood by you again, an arm wrapped securely around your waist.

"let us be done with this, heidi will arrive any moment"

the old and frail-looking king spoke up as he stood up slowly "thank you for your visit" he said slowly with a deep rasp in his voice and then then the blonde king spoke up.

"I would advise that you follow through with your promise soon, we do not offer second chances" he said with a sneer on his face, emphasizing the word "chances" to make it sound more menacing you were sure.

Demetri let go of you momentarily to open the giant double doors and led you and the others out of the throne room "goodbye my young friends" Aro said from behind but you did not once stop to think to turn around, you just kept walking and followed demetri.

"Nice fishing, heidi" you heard demetri say and you looked up, a beautiful vampiric woman in a red dress walked past your group with a sea of tourists following right behind her, mumbling curiously and admiring the architecture of the palace and it appeared as though they were completely oblivious that they were being lead to their deaths.

maybe it was better that way, a quick and swift death.

"yes they do look rather juicy" Heidi replied and sent a smirk in his direction and an emotion that mimicked jealousy (or actual jealousy) rose within you, did she have thing for him? but you shook those thoughts away.

and then the screaming and shouting came.

you froze and wanted to turn around to observe what was happening but demetri snaked an arm around your waist and pulled you close to him "don't look its not for the faint of heart, mia cara" his soft voice met your ear and heat rushed down your spine at the close proximity, the effect he had on you making you slowly forget.

A few minutes later and you were outside, the warm sun beaming down on you and you welcomed it without hesitation, breathing in the fresh air and relaxed.

"It's time we go home" Alice stood next to you, a hand on your shoulder as she gave you a soft smile.

you bit your lip in thought, eyes flickering over to demetri.

for whatever reason, the thought of leaving him was like going through a heartbreak and it was like your whole body was protesting and fighting hard against it, leaving him felt like a gloomy cloud was descending upon you and your world would shrouded in darkness.

"2 seconds alice" you told her quietly and stepped over to demetri, your heart hammering violently in your chest.

"what happens now?" was the first thing you asked him as you looked up at his beautiful face, his beautiful red eyes looking down at you with a certain softness and fondness you didnt think you'd ever on a vampires face.

"We will be together again, and I understand that you must return home" He spoke with understanding as he delicately placed his hand on your cheek, stroking the skin softly like you were the most precious thing he had in his possession.

Which is kind of true given your human nature and his vampire.

a sad and small smile rose on your lips as you subconsciously leaned into his touch, his hand burrowing itself gently in your hair "I look forward to it" you whispered before stepping back, his hand falling from your head and you immediately missed his touch.

"we'll see each other sooner than you think, mia cara"

"this is only the start".

and with that, you turned and left with the others and you were damn sure that you wouldn't ever forget him.

_____________________________________________________________

still new at this, hope its nothing too bad

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 puff was so good please write more with this prompt I am begging bro 😭🙏

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 froggy meetings

paring: sirius black x f!reader

➥ In which,Sirius Black chases you across the Hogwarts grounds with a frog on your head, only to realize he's fallen for your brilliant chaos.

warnings: reader is a gryffindor (not mentioned but yeah), fluff ofc, whole lotta nonsense, reader is a #yapper, sirius realizing his feelings, reader seems more interested in frogs than sirius lmao

2.2K words 

Sirius Black didn’t think he’d ever be willing Sirius Black never imagined he’d find himself chasing someone through the Hogwarts grounds with a frog perched precariously on their head, but life had a way of surprising him. In fairness, he should have known better the moment you stood in the Gryffindor common room, arms spread wide like a conductor about to lead a symphony, and declared at full volume that the Guardian of Puddles had made an urgent pilgrimage to the Great Lake.

Most of the common room had ignored you, accustomed to your antics, but Sirius—Sirius never ignored you. So, naturally, here he was, trudging after you under the moonlit sky, with James’s laughter fading in the background and a lingering promise to “write this one down for posterity” following his retreat.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” Sirius called out as you darted ahead, your pace set somewhere between a dramatic march and a full-on sprint. He quickened his steps, not quite running but definitely jogging to keep up.

“Do you think the Guardian of Puddles questions where the puddles are?” you shot back over your shoulder, your tone dripping with mock indignation. To emphasize your point, you spun around mid-stride, arms flung out like you were addressing an invisible crowd. The frog atop your head wobbled precariously but stayed put, giving an almost affronted croak at Sirius’s doubt.

Sirius rolled his eyes, but the smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him. “Right. Silly me for doubting the omniscient powers of puddles.”

“Exactly,” you said with a grin, spinning back around to face the path ahead. “Glad to see you’re catching on.”

The two of you continued your peculiar journey across the grounds, the castle shrinking behind you as the sprawling Great Lake came into view. Its surface glimmered like liquid silver under the starlight, the soft rustling of the trees and distant hoots of owls blending into the faint lapping of water against the shore.

You came to an abrupt halt at the lake’s edge, and Sirius had to swerve to avoid barreling straight into you. For a moment, neither of you spoke, your gaze fixed on the vast expanse of water before you. Sirius followed your line of sight, his breath misting faintly in the cool night air.

“Now,” you began, breaking the silence, “this is where the real magic happens. The Guardian of Puddles will commune with the underwater realms, and together, we shall uncover truths that have been hidden from humankind for millennia.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he tilted his head to look at you. “Bold claims,” he said, his tone dry but amused. “What kind of truths are we talking about here? Winning lottery numbers? The secret to James finally getting Lily to say yes?”

You ignored him with the flair of someone entirely above such petty questions, crouching low to the ground with a reverence that made Sirius pause. Gently, you lifted the frog from your head, cradling it in your hands like it was a sacred artifact. Your expression softened in a way that caught Sirius off guard, your usual mischief tempered by something quieter, almost tender.

He knelt beside you, his earlier teasing forgotten as he watched you place the frog on a flat rock near the water’s edge. The creature croaked once, then settled, its bulbous eyes fixed on the shimmering lake ahead as if it truly was about to deliver profound wisdom.

Sirius Black never imagined he’d find himself chasing someone through the Hogwarts grounds with a frog perched precariously on their head, but life had a way of surprising him. In fairness, he should have known better the moment you stood in the Gryffindor common room, arms spread wide like a conductor about to lead a symphony, and declared at full volume that the Guardian of Puddles had an urgent pilgrimage to the Great Lake.

Most of the common room had ignored you, accustomed to your antics, but Sirius—Sirius never ignored you. So, naturally, here he was, trudging after you under the moonlit sky, with James’s laughter fading in the background and a lingering promise to “write this one down for posterity” following his retreat.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” Sirius called out as you darted ahead, your pace set somewhere between a dramatic march and a full-on sprint. He quickened his steps, not quite running but definitely jogging to keep up.

“Do you think the Guardian of Puddles questions where the puddles are?” you shot back over your shoulder, your tone dripping with mock indignation. To emphasize your point, you spun around mid-stride, arms flung out like you were addressing an invisible crowd. The frog atop your head wobbled precariously but stayed put, giving an almost affronted croak at Sirius’s doubt.

Sirius rolled his eyes, but the smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him. “Right. Silly me for doubting the omniscient powers of puddles.”

“Exactly,” you said with a grin, spinning back around to face the path ahead. “Glad to see you’re catching on.”

The two of you continued your peculiar journey across the grounds, the castle shrinking behind you as the sprawling Great Lake came into view. Its surface glimmered like liquid silver under the starlight, the soft rustling of the trees and distant hoots of owls blending into the faint lapping of water against the shore.

You came to an abrupt halt at the lake’s edge, and Sirius had to swerve to avoid barreling straight into you. For a moment, neither of you spoke, your gaze fixed on the vast expanse of water before you. Sirius followed your line of sight, his breath misting faintly in the cool night air.

“Now,” you began, breaking the silence, “this is where the real magic happens. The Guardian of Puddles will commune with the underwater realms, and together, we shall uncover truths that have been hidden from humankind for millennia.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he tilted his head to look at you. “Bold claims,” he said, his tone dry but amused. “What kind of truths are we talking about here? Winning lottery numbers? The secret to James finally getting Lily to say yes?”

You ignored him with the flair of someone entirely above such petty questions, crouching low to the ground with a reverence that made Sirius pause. Gently, you lifted the frog from your head, cradling it in your hands like it was a sacred artifact. Your expression softened in a way that caught Sirius off guard, your usual mischief tempered by something quieter, almost tender.

He knelt beside you, his earlier teasing forgotten as he watched you place the frog on a flat rock near the water’s edge. The creature croaked once, then settled, its bulbous eyes fixed on the shimmering lake ahead as if it truly was about to deliver profound wisdom.

“What’s it saying?” Sirius asked, his voice dipping into a whisper as though afraid to disturb the moment.

You tilted your head, feigning deep concentration. “Shhh,” you hissed, holding up a hand. “It’s complicated. Frogs speak in riddles.”

“Do they now?” Sirius’s lips quivered into a grin, but he stayed quiet, indulging you.

“Absolutely,” you replied with utmost seriousness. Then, after a dramatic pause, you turned to him, your expression grave. “It says you’re far too cocky for your own good.”

“Does it?” Sirius shot back, his grin widening. “Anything else, or is that the extent of its divine insight?”

You nodded solemnly, gesturing toward the frog as though it had just delivered a revelation of world-altering importance. “It also says you should stop underestimating the power of puddles. They hold entire worlds, Sirius. Entire. Worlds.”

This time, Sirius couldn’t contain his laugh, the sound bright and warm in the stillness of the night. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, shaking his head. “Absolutely ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously brilliant,” you corrected, your eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Sure,” he conceded, still chuckling. “Let’s go with that.”

The frog croaked again, louder this time, and the two of you turned to look at it. For a moment, the banter fell away, replaced by a quiet stillness. The lake’s rippling surface seemed to stretch endlessly before you, its edges fading into the shadows of the distant shore. Sirius found himself glancing back at you—not for the first time tonight, but this time, he really looked.

There was something about the way the moonlight caught your face, highlighting the curve of your smile and the way your eyes sparkled with that strange, otherworldly curiosity. It was the kind of expression that made Sirius’s chest tighten, though he wouldn’t admit it out loud.

“Hey,” he said softly, breaking the silence. “Do you ever stop to think that maybe you’re the one with all the magic? Not the frog.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity in his tone. For a second, your usual bravado faltered, replaced by something quieter, almost shy. Then you smiled—soft, bright, and undeniably you.

“Maybe,” you said lightly, though your voice held a warmth that made Sirius’s heart stutter. “But if I am, I’m still keeping the frog. He’s an excellent sidekick.”

Sirius grinned, leaning back on his heels. “Fair enough. But if you ever need a co-pilot for your puddle adventures, let me know.”

You pretended to consider it, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “Hmm. Only if you promise to keep up.”

“Oh, I’ll keep up,” Sirius said, standing and offering you a hand. “You just make sure to lead the way.”

You took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. The frog croaked its approval, hopping closer to the water’s edge as though ready to resume its role as the enigmatic guide to your peculiar mission.

Together, you stood side by side, gazing out at the vast expanse of the lake. The world felt a little quieter, a little more magical, as though the absurdity of the moment had cracked open something deeper—a promise of adventures yet to come, and perhaps something more.

You tilted your head, feigning deep concentration. “Shhh,” you hissed, holding up a hand. “It’s complicated. Frogs speak in riddles.”

“Do they now?” Sirius’s lips quivered into a grin, but he stayed quiet, indulging you.

“Absolutely,” you replied with utmost seriousness. Then, after a dramatic pause, you turned to him, your expression grave. “It says you’re far too cocky for your own good.”

“Does it?” Sirius shot back, his grin widening. “Anything else, or is that the extent of its divine insight?”

You nodded solemnly, gesturing toward the frog as though it had just delivered a revelation of world-altering importance. “It also says you should stop underestimating the power of puddles. They hold entire worlds, Sirius. Entire. Worlds.”

This time, Sirius couldn’t contain his laugh, the sound bright and warm in the stillness of the night. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, shaking his head. “Absolutely ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously brilliant,” you corrected, your eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Sure,” he conceded, still chuckling. “Let’s go with that.”

The frog croaked again, louder this time, and the two of you turned to look at it. For a moment, the banter fell away, replaced by a quiet stillness. The lake’s rippling surface seemed to stretch endlessly before you, its edges fading into the shadows of the distant shore. Sirius found himself glancing back at you—not for the first time tonight, but this time, he really looked.

There was something about the way the moonlight caught your face, highlighting the curve of your smile and the way your eyes sparkled with that strange, otherworldly curiosity. It was the kind of expression that made Sirius’s chest tighten, though he wouldn’t admit it out loud.

“Hey,” he said softly, breaking the silence. “Do you ever stop to think that maybe you’re the one with all the magic? Not the frog.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity in his tone. For a second, your usual bravado faltered, replaced by something quieter, almost shy. Then you smiled—soft, bright, and undeniably you.

“Maybe,” you said lightly, though your voice held a warmth that made Sirius’s heart stutter. “But if I am, I’m still keeping the frog. He’s an excellent sidekick.”

Sirius grinned, leaning back on his heels. “Fair enough. But if you ever need a co-pilot for your puddle adventures, let me know.”

You pretended to consider it, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “Hmm. Only if you promise to keep up.”

“Oh, I’ll keep up,” Sirius said, standing and offering you a hand. “You just make sure to lead the way.”

You took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. The frog croaked its approval, hopping closer to the water’s edge as though ready to resume its role as the enigmatic guide to your peculiar mission.

Together, you stood side by side, gazing out at the vast expanse of the lake. The world felt a little quieter, a little more magical, as though the absurdity of the moment had cracked open something deeper—a promise of adventures yet to come, and perhaps something more.

[queers-gambit]

I Solemnly Swear That I Am Up To No Good

prompt: ( requested ) basking in the sunshine, breathing fresh air, bare skin tickled by tall grass, and Felix, who can't focus on the Half Blood Prince when his girl's got his full blooded attention.

pairing: Felix Catton x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Saltburn

word count: 2.3k+

note: i wrote this in an hour 'cause, you know, brainrot.

warnings: slight request variation (you'll see), there's probably cursing. anyways, suggestive language, no real spoilers, slight Ollie slander, college kids doing drugs, and no HP spoilers for those who haven't read.

All you could smell was his expensive cologne, barely breaking a sweat under the summer sun as he remained wrapped around you like a child did their mother on the first day of school. You were never one for suffocating affection nor clingy behavior, something leftover from childhood, but with your boyfriend, you craved it; and he knew it. He took advantage of it.

"Are you even listening or are you too busy trying to identify the smell of my shampoo?"

"Hmm? Yeah, yeah, 'M listenin', love, uh, you know, something about... Harry doing something stupid, yeah?"

You snorted lightly, head tilting back to look up at your boyfriend's amused expression. "A lucky guess - 'cause Harry's always doing some dumb shit."

"Yeah, you know, there's a reason he wasn't considered for Ravenclaw."

"Don't be mean, we all have our strengths and weaknesses," you gently reprimanded. "So he's not the smartest guy ever, but he's brave as hell, isn't he?"

"Has to be, being a Gryffindor and all."

"I doubt we would've done half this shit at 16."

"Totally right, we had other worries - like our first pregnancy scare."

"Felix!"

"What, doll face? Huh? C'mon, what's the quote? I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!"

"Oh, you absolute cheesy fuck!"

His laugh could've echoed across the field, the two of you laid out on an oversized blanket; crushing the long grass surrounding his home, Saltburn. 'Home' always felt so mundane when describing the freaking castle his family inhabited; after all, his father, Sir James, was literally knighted - making the Cattons feel larger than life. You'd known the family for over a decade now, meeting Venetia on your first day of school when a rude boy smacked your lunch tray right out of your hands, being inducted to their family almost straight away.

As it turned out, your mother and father were friendly with Sir James and his wife, Elspeth Catton, and after only a month in your new town, you were invited to Saltburn for a family meal.

It became a monthly occurrence.

And when you started dating Felix when you were both 15, it was like life was simply alining with the stars. Destiny being fulfilled. Fate smiling on you both.

Your parents tried to play off the relationship, but after you turned 16, they realized how serious you two seemed about each other. And when you both decided to attend Oxford together (rejecting your father's alma mater, the University of Edinburgh), your mother made constant jibes about your wedding. At first, it was just a few, little, sometimes funny, but mostly harmless comments here and there, and then it escalated to full-on conversations between your mothers.

Like they had flowers and color scheme picked out, deciding on hosting at Saltburn, even debating wedding dress ideas! Your mother wanted something lacy, Elspeth wanted something form fitting and "sexy" - being where their opinions clashed and the conversation elevated to near arguments.

Anyways, laying on the blanket in the field, alone, became a regular occurrence for you and Felix once you realized the absolute HOLD the Harry Potter series had on you both. Where the brother and sister had matching HP star tattoos on their hands, that had convinced you to get a set of three stars - your only tattoo, nestled behind your left ear. Venetia technically got you into the series, letting you borrow the first book, and then gifting you each book once published; but it was more like a "tradition" to read them with Felix.

See, when you were younger, you had a stutter that made you wildly insecure, but reading out loud helped you work through it. Was it a perfect system? Of course not, but your boyfriend was adamant that it'd help - and eventually, it did. So much so, you received top marks in each of your public speaking or debate classes, something the Catton's still praised you over.

Felix liked listening, and the times you got a little tongue-tied and frustrated, he would take over to let you a small reprieve. Today was no different, laid in the field, the grass tickling your bare feet and calves as the sun soaked into your bare skin. Either of you only wore a pair of sunglasses, Felix sat up on his elbow to support your body laid against his; his fingers dancing light patterns over whatever body part he could reach. Currently, it was your hip.

He laid quick kisses where he could, whispered sweet nothings in your ear, used his teeth to nibble your flesh. Anything to make you trip over your words, like the little shit he was.

You felt your breathing shift when Felix's lips and tongue ghosted up your neck, sweeping stray strands of hair from your shoulder before his fingertips were ghosting over your collarbone and down your chest to tweak your nipple. The cold of his bracelets and watch on your sticky skin felt like a drastic contrast to the warmth of the day.

"You're infuriating, I'm trying to read," you scolded, swatting his hand away; but smirking in amusement that assured him you weren't truly annoyed.

"Roll over, sweetheart, I needa rest my arm," he muttered in your ear, licking the shell - making you squirm with a small giggle.

"Can you behave? For once?"

"How can I? When you look like this? I mean, Goddamn, I really got the prettiest girl, don't I?" He smirked, watching you lift off his chest to roll onto your stomach; perched on your elbows. "Now, that's a sight, might be my favorite," he grinned, bringing his hand down to smack one of your arse cheeks - palming the flesh tightly, giving a jiggle for his amusement.

"Felix!" You squealed, fully anticipating this treatment; trying to hide your full-teeth grin.

"C'mon, love, let's get a bit naughty," he teased. "Oliver doesn't get here for another two days, we're not gonna be alone much longer."

You scoffed lightly, "You're the one who had to befriend The Clinger."

"Oi, c'mon now, tellin' me t'be nice about Harry? Don't call him that, love, he's just a lonely chap. Needs a friend."

You hummed, readjusting the book under you. "He's a bit creepy, Fi," you admit. "I mean, he stares - like a lot. And remember I told you, I saw him looking through your dorm window that one night?"

He sighed, "He was just drunk, love, we've been over this."

"You're so quick to excuse him," you noted, offering him a bewildered look as he readjusted to lean over your back. His head nuzzled between your shoulder blades, letting a hand pet down the slope of your spine; forcing a small tremor through your muscles.

"He's got no one else."

"Doesn't mean he needs you, my sweet boy. Honestly, you stretch yourself too thin. Maybe if you focused less on these so-called friends and more on your studies...?"

"I appreciate the worry, babygirl," he mused, laying three kisses to your shoulders, "but it's all right, got you quizzing me nightly. Swear, you know my coursework better than I do. And besides, you're the one who says there's no such thing as too many friends."

"Hm," you let your eyes roll slightly, "I was obviously high when I said that and probably didn't mean bloody Oliver."

"Speaking of," he grinned, reaching for the rucksack he brought with you; now hosting your clothes, but also carrying the Altoid tin he used to store pre-rolled joints.

"Are you even listening to the story anymore, baby?"

"Of course I am, toots, I can multi-task." You hummed in response, waiting for him to finish lighting up before continuing onto a new paragraph; feeling him shift on your back. But you faltered when smoke blew against your cheek, Felix's lips descending a moment later to noisily smooch your skin. "You're so fucking pretty," he mumbled.

"I think you have ADHD."

"We knew that."

"Maybe you need something for that."

"Because I'm not listening to Harry Potter?"

"I knew it!" You laughed, shivering again when his free hand drew up your spine to nestle in your hair; handing you the joint with the other. "Fi, you're still distracting me," you moaned slightly, leaning your head back into his touch - contradicting your own words.

"You're doin' great, love," he grinned, licking the skin behind your ear, at your tattoo. "Keep goin', c'mon, I wanna hear what happens next."

"You're gonna reread this chapter when I go to bed, aren't you?"

Felix paused, "Maybe."

You grunted, dropping your head to the book before lifting it again and taking an inhale from the joint. Felix grinned at you in mischief, rolling over onto his back; hand behind his head as he stared up at you. You shook your head at him, handing the joint over before shuffling so you were laid on his chest with the book spread open in one hand.

"Love?" He mumbled.

"Hmm?" You glanced at him.

"Maybe... Uh, yeah, maybe start the chapter over? I'm a bit lost," he snickered, coughing when you tisked at him and offered a slightly annoyed look. "C'mon, baby, you can't tell me you were totally focused, either! You love me touching you, I can see it on your face."

To prove his point, the arm he had wrapped around you drifted to, once more, take a handful of your ample bottom - causing you to gasp slightly.

But you pouted, "I kinda want to finish this chapter, baby."

"And I'm distracting you?"

"Obviously."

Felix laughed, "Spot on Professor Snape, baby."

"If I read like Snape the rest of the chapter, will you pay attention to me?"

"You know what? I don't know, that voice is kinda a turn on... Everything you do is a turn on, doll."

"You'd think the consistent fucking we do would rein in your hormones."

"Nah," he tutted, squeezing his hand, "not when I got a girl like you, gettin' me all riled up. I mean, Half-Blood Prince, who? Got me full blooded, right here." You chuckled when he glanced at his cock, folding the book closed and deflating onto his chest and accepting the joint again. "Oh, c'mon, don't stop, 's just gettin' good!"

"You were calling Harry stupid literally 5 minutes ago."

"Come off it, when isn't he?"

"When he's fighting Voldemort?"

"Hm," he considered, tucking his hand into your hair to massage your scalp; gently pulling through your hair. "You might have a point."

"And now Dumbledore's - "

"Hey, hey, no spoilers!"

"It's not a spoiler if you were listening to me!"

"I'm always listening," he whined, you blowing smoke across his abdomen; watching his abs contract from the slight tickle; his cock bobbing from the movement and making you flush with heat not from the sun. "You're just so much more interesting, hmm?" He mumbled.

"Hey, hey. Flattery gets you everywhere with me," you teased, loving the easiness of his smile. "C'mon, pretty boy, your turn."

He took the joint from you, watching you try to pull back - but tightening his arm. "Stay here, love havin' you close," he mumbled, placing the joint to his mouth and reaching for the book again. Not wanting his arm to retract from your form, you reached up to take the joint from him; listening as he went back to the beginning of the chapter while your leg hiked up his hips.

Every other puff, you fed Felix the joint until there was nothing left; wee small roach being stubbed out in the dirt, leaving you two relaxed, high, and laid over one another as he continued to lazily read. But his hand still traced invisible patterns over your skin, the warmth of the sun making you sweat, but the way your boyfriend touched you made you shiver.

He knew you loved it, yet didn't so much as stutter on a single word when his smirk would grow feeling your reactions to his touches.

At the end of the chapter, he glanced down at you and let his lips follow; tightening his arm to bring you in closer, leaving repeated kisses on your forehead. You squirmed closer, giggling and bringing your hand up to hook around the back of his neck, directing him to your lips as he rolled over so you were on your back and he was hovering over you. "You're distracting me, now, li'l minx," he teased.

"Oh, how unfair, what ever shall you do?"

He chuckled, pecking your lips twice more, then asking, "Another chapter or...?"

"Yes, one more chapter," you laughed, "but then we're gonna have to head back up, your mum wanted my help with something."

"Oh, she's got you some new dresses she wants you to try," he relaid.

"I thought she stopped doin' that?"

"She loves spoiling you," Felix eased. "And Venetia stopped letting Mum dress her, so, you know... Here, you read this one."

You agreed, letting him readjust so he was sat up again, keeping you between his spread legs so he could peer down at the book from over your shoulder. Was it distracting, feeling his fully blooded cock at your back? Absolutely. Was it mildly erotic for you to ignore it and continue reading - as if his warmth wasn't making you wet? Also, yes.

"Fi," you whispered when his lips danced across your shoulder. "Distracting me, again," you half-scolded.

"You're doin' great, love," he chuckled.

But he didn't stop, it was like he was turning himself on (more) by his soft, gentle touches; and being spurred onward when he noted the way your chest heaved when your breath changed.

"Keep goin'," he whispered in your ear, dragging his hands up to cup either bare breast and swipe his thumbs around your nipples to stiffen them into peaks.

"Felix - "

"Don't stop," he encouraged, "'s real endearing the way you're tryna fight this."

"You try to get between me and Potter one more time, we're going on a sex strike."

There was a pause as you looked up at him, both sharing growing grins before bursting into echoing laughter that Venetia heard from one of the loungers close to the house. She grinned to herself, turning the page of her own Half-Blood Prince book.

requesting rules and masterlist

Saltburn masterlist

[pomgach]

Slowy Crumbling Down

Pushing it too far until it tore you apart

"All you do is head straight towards your goal, not noticing all these people who wanted to support you. Now look at you, no one to rely on when you want it. How convenient for you, oh great detective. Would it kill you to look their way and listen to their words? Listen to MY words? I wanted to be there when you were hurt. I wanted to be there when you wanted comfort. I wanted to be there as your equal. Was I asking too much to remain by your side as you go through everything, thick and thin?" Kaito couldn't stop the words from flowing. He wanted to comfort Shinichi instead of tearing up his already downtrodden state. He was supposed to lift him up, not bring him down.

Shinichi opens his mouth, his head still hanging off of Kaito's shoulder, "I thought I can handle it.. I didn't want to involve people in the mess I made. I didn't want anyone to get hurt. I didn't want you to hate me."

"Hate you?" Kaito pulls away to look Shinichi straight, "Shinichi, I can never hate you."

••

Hi! I joined this year's Kaishin Secret Santa(2024) @dcmkkaishinevents ! For my gift, i made an animatic for @slepnded ! Ngl, this stumped me bc i want the best for the person receiving the gift. I had drafts, but they didnt pull thru until this one. It was a whole lot of fun brainstorming and coming up with plot and ideas for the prompts! I hope i did this justice!

Thank you for the opportunity to join in this event! Happy Holidays everyone!

⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹

Extra art i did to visualise what my brain thought of

I enjoyed breaking shinichi ^○^

Song: Castles Crumbling - Taylor Swift

[robot-roadtrip-rants]

and roses, too

Long hair is a luxury on Chemos. Everyone’s got a story—everyone has an uncle, or a daughter, or a friend. It gets caught in gears, twisted into spinners, stuck to pressed. Every great machine in the factories springing up all over Chemos these days seems to have a hunger for hair.

People try all kinds of things. Hair ties, tight caps, gel. Nothing quite works, not completely. There’s always another story—the spine-tingling screams, the crunch of bone, the blood from scalps, the bits of human that show up in the product that comes out. That’s the real problem—it ruins the product, gums up the machines. Can’t be having that on the assembly line.

More and more, people just cut their hair. Sometimes it’s mandated by the foreman, but most folks don’t need any prompting. The great machines hunger for human flesh. Mostly fingers, but sometimes hands and arms too, or toes and feet and legs. And hair, always hair. You can’t cut off your arms and legs, but you can cut your hair.

So long hair disappears on the lines. No more ponytails, no more dreads. No more updos, no more afros, no more buns or braids or blowouts. Spikes? Gone. Layers? Gone. It’s not needed on the line, and who’s got the money for that, anyways?

It’s different in the corporate castles, of course. If anything, it’s the opposite. The higher the office, the more elaborate the style, and if you merit a corner office—phew! Business people have needs, after all, and one of those needs is looking the part. Gotta make sure everyone knows you got money!

So the poor cut short and the rich cut long. It’s custom, not law—not until Emala grows her hair out and flings the Labor banner across the sky. There’ve been insurrections before, but nothing like this, where the union madness spreads like plague from factory to factory. Chemos is wracked with war for a full generation, and simmering unrest for another. Everything changes after that.

Ragillan, Inc. is the first corp to establish sumptuary laws, but all the others quickly follow suit. Buzzcuts for the lines, chin length for the cubicles, shoulder length for the lower offices, and of course the upper floors can do whatever they want. Not that they’d be caught dead with a bob, of course.

Years, decades, centuries pass, and slowly other sumptuary laws are added to factories’ regulations. Industria has long been the primary deity on Chemos, but a new philosophical trend begins circulating amongst her worshippers. It is the duty of the poor to save and the rich to spend.

Poverty is a product of laziness, of poor discipline, insouciance, disobedience, bad attitude. Therefore let the poor learn discipline through frugality. Abandon luxury for the important things in life—hard work and a go-getter mindset. Cut the fat from the budget! You can relax when you’ve clawed your way up through the offices. Does man need beauty to survive? Surely not!

The executives quickly realize their duty to shepherd their lines to a higher moral standing. Line workers are a dissolute lot, naturally inclined to sloth, theft, filth, and ignorance. They need a strong hand to keep them on the straight and narrow. Heavy is the executive’s lot, burdened with the duty of uplifting their workers!

And so the sumptuary laws expand. No more sweet-smelling soaps, no more silky-smooth conditioners. No more make-up, perfume, or cologne. No more brightly colored clothing cut to flatter the form, no more patterns or embroidery. No more, no more, no more…

Thirty thousand years after the birth of a forgotten god, Chemos is a dull, grey planet full of dull, grey people. Everyone is stunted, shorn-headed, dull-eyed, dressed in shapeless coveralls, filthy with grease, coughing up soot, exhausted and malnourished, overworked and underpaid. Stare at enough of them and they start to blend together. Labor is a virtue and beauty is a sin.

And then one day—

One day, Tullea and Corrin’s son walks into work, and everyone stops to stare. He’s always been an odd one, as pretty and wise and impossible as his namesake god, but today takes things to the next level. Overnight, his hair has grown down to his waist, and he has teased and twisted and braided it into an elaborate style. Washed and dyed with stolen products, it seems to shift from color to color as it sways in the light. His eyes match his hair, painted with glittering, multicolored eyeshadow and lined with dark, dramatic mascara. Blush dusts his cheeks, lipstick brightens his mouth. Amidst the dull, gray assembly lines of Chemos, the boy is an explosion of color, of beauty, of joy.

Fulgrim looks across the factory floor—at the enthralled workers, the slackjawed foremen, the uncertain enforcers, the distant manager scrambling for her phone—and smiles. Fulgrim smiles, and everyone knows that the lines are going to march.

[just-french-me-up]

#48 for the ask prompts! ❤️

N°8 : A kiss out of habit

Now buckle up for a Dreamling Green Knight AU ! I had to fist fight myself not to go overboard with this!

It had caught Hob off guard, on the first day. The lady of the castle giving him a kiss had had him dread the return of her lord husband, for they had agreed to exchange the day's earnings, and what else had there been to trade, but the kiss he had been given?

The lord had accepted it, stoic against Hob's trembling lips. In return, Hob had been given a story, a tale of the lord's invention that day. His mind worked beautifully, and Hob had watched his lips as they gave life to unearthly tales, drinking each word in like sweet wine.

On the second day, the lady's kisses had gone from surprising to intriguing. Hob had passed them on that very evening, the lord's scent now familiar as their noses had brushed together, trading breath for breath. The lord had been less stoic then. Hob could remember the knock of his heart against his chest as the lord had pressed his lips to his, opening Hob's mouth into something beyond transactional. Less chaste.

Hob had paid little attention to the lord's tale, that night. He had pretended to, of course, nodding his head, interjecting here or there, but his attention had wandered elsewhere. In the sharp line of his host's jaw. In the pale shade of his eyes, where the flames of the fireplace seemed to burn brighter still. He had itched to kiss him again, feel that fervor again. Patience. They had agreed on three nights, hadn't they?

On the third day, the lady's kisses had become a habit. Hob had expected them. Hoped for them. The poor woman's advances remained unanswered, Hob politely refusing anything further. All he could think about was the evening, when the lord would find him and ask for his earnings.

But the lord was late.

Night had fallen, dinner had been served, eaten, plates taken away, and there was no sign of the lord of the castle.

When the hour had become unreasonable, Hob retired to his bedchamber, pacing the fine floors. The morning would see him leave his hosts' care, for he had agreed to meet the Green Knight at the green chapel. He would die then, he was sure of it. A blow for a blow. He would die without having given the lord his due. How could he bear it?

Someone knocked on the door. Startled, Hob approached it, apprehension and hope both tugging at his stomach. Could it be the lord? Or his wife, seeking him out to attempt to seduce him once more, in her husband's absence?

Standing at the threshold was his host, his black hair slightly damp. His clothes were perfectly dry, but Hob noticed the mud on his shoes. He must have come here straight away, he told himself, far from indifferent to the implications.

"Apologies," the lord said. "My duties have kept me away longer than I realised."

"I thought so," Hob lied.

"I could send for a servant to rekindle the fire in the hall, so we may trade there."

"The household has gone to bed," Hob countered smoothly, keen on the idea of them there, alone. "Let us not disturb them. Perhaps we may conduct our trade here?"

He stepped back, showing the inside of his chambers. The lord seemed to hesitate, but eventually agreed to follow Hob in, closing the door behind them. There they stood. Alone. Hob swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how close they were. They had stood close before, as one must when kissing another, but this felt... intimate. Illicit, almost, in the most intoxicating way.

"Well?" the lord asked. "What have you earned today, Ser Gadling?"

Without a word, Hob inched closer, his hands behind his back. The lord did not flinch at he leant forward, meeting his lips in a slow embrace. They came apart in a soft sigh, the lord's eyes fluttering open as Hob leant back.

"What else?" his host asked, almost as a challenge.

The second kiss was more daring, earning Hob a few more sighs. He held the lord's chin as his tongue brushed his, hunger pooling at the pit of his stomach, but he stopped himself, pulling back. The man was flushed now, his back almost to the door. Hob could not say he disliked the sight. If anything, it called to him, wild thoughts sprouting in his mind of how else he'd like to see this lord, pretty pink mouth and all.

"Is this how this earning was given to you?" the man whispered. He did not sound angry. He didn't even sound curious, really. Only wanting.

"No," Hob's thumb trailed from his chin to his lower lip, tracing the plump, glistening flesh there, hot breath blowing in his skin, threatening to undo him. "This is how you shape it."

"This was not in the rules," the lord pointed out, though he did not move. If anything, Hob could have sworn he was closer. "Is this all?"

"Not quite."

The third kiss was ravenous, Hob pouring his longing and desires into the embrace, pushing the lord against the door until their bodies were entwined, hands grasping for more, pulling fabric as though to meld them together. They were both out of breath by the time they pulled back, lips inches apart.

"I must be gone in the morning," Hob rasped. "I fear I won't come back. I shall meet my end there."

The lord observed him, almost intrigued.

"Stay," Hob asked, on the verge of begging.

"The trade―"

"Tell me your story in the morning, before dawn. Close the trade then. Stay."

"I can not, for you must receive my end of the bargain tonight."

Hob shook his head, desperate to keep him close.

"Keep it. I do not want it. I want you."

Slowly, the man raised a hand to Hob's hair, cupping the back of his head, and kissed his forehead.

"Have I ever told you my name, Hob?"

Hob stared at him, at a loss. Now that he mentioned it...

"No. You haven't."

"I am Dream, Prince of Stories. Such is the nature of my offering, tonight."

Hob frowned, confused. Prince? His host had always had a regal flair to him, but he could never have imagined...

"Dream? You're offering me a dream? How?"

"It hardly matters."

Dream's hand fell from Hob's hair to his cheek, his caress soft, but clearly meant to break the tension between them.

"Go to bed, Hob Gadling. Close your eyes, give yourself to sleep. I may visit you in more ways that one."

Hob pressed Dream's hand to his cheek, refusing to let go. Such promises could not be. The body against his was flesh and bones, he could feel it. He closed his eyes, trying to burn the touch into his memory, the warmth of his skin. By the time he opened his eyes, the lord was gone, as though he'd vanished into thin air, and he was left cradling his own hand, empty.

Hob stared at the door, dejected. Now that he was alone, what else was there to do but lie in bed, waiting for the morning of his death? How could he sleep, knowing where he was headed? Yet curiosity wormed its way through his despair, making him glance back at the bed waiting for him.

He was to be given a dream. One last dream. And his host had ever been gifted at telling stories. How could he refuse him?

Send me a kissing prompt?