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alpydk · 4 months ago

Note

You want angst? I’ll give you angst!

How do you think the companions would react to finding out Tav was divorced? That they were able to fall in love so deeply, only to have it ripped away. Perhaps the phrase “there’s nothing quite like handing someone the knife they use to carve out your heart.” is said.

Hello my dear anon, thank you for this prompt <3 This ended up largely as angst/comfort. I'm yet to write a real Gale proposal, so took this chance. It has a considerable amount of angst to begin with, though, so hopefully that satisfies your need.

Word Count - 3277 words - CW - Angst/Comfort (Happy ending!) - Divorce, Abusive relationship

“Being tied down to someone? No, thank you.”

Pale fingers spun the wedding ring mindlessly on the wooden table of the tavern as the now owner of the band spoke. Tav suspected it had been stolen from the graveyard when they had all taken a moment with Karlach to hear of her upbringing, seeing as Astarion had grown quickly bored and had resorted to pulling the petals from lying flowers. He loves me; he loves me not was the mumble they’d heard as he had kicked the dirt up with little respect for the sleeper beneath.

“But you got to agree it’s romantic,” argued Karlach in response. “Waking up each day with the one you love, riding them until you’re both hungry.”

Astarion scoffed. “You don’t need to be married for that, darling, just… turned on enough.” His eyes glanced over at Tav, and a devilish smirk crept upon his cold lips.

She knew he wasn’t interested. She’d known since the first evening where he’d tried to lure her from the party with promises of a night to remember, one where she had turned down the idea of losing herself to him. But this was the game of cat and mouse the two of them liked to play, shameless flirting, the hint of jealousy that meant nothing. At least he says it’s nothing.

Sipping from a glass of Portal Sherry, Gale spoke with a hint of conviction in his voice. The night was still young and the alcohol flowing between the group was not yet enough to loosen his practiced tongue in full. “I’m of the opinion that if you love someone, then you should devote yourself to them in full. Marriage is an important part of that commitment.”

“Gods, you could ride them and not be married.”

“Yes, but that’s beside the point, Karlach. We were discussing the concept of til death do you part, which, as Astarion was keen to point out, did not apply to him.”

Tav watched the banter with enjoyment. It had started out as an innocent conversation, the grave of the two lovers they’d noticed giving details of a marriage lasting over eighty years. The consensus had been that marriage was a pointless endeavour, either ending when one partner died, or when the couple inevitably decided they were bored with the regular sexual escapades and decided to seek out fresh meat. None of the party, of course, had been married before and all but one would probably remain that way.

She watched the ring spin between Astarion’s fingertips, the solid gold band nothing remarkable in its shine, but clearly priceless to someone at some point. She thought about the future of the item. What would happen with it tomorrow as they took on their final battle with the Netherbrain? Would it be kept and eventually sold to fund their separate travels home, or would it lie upon one of their corpses, soon to be collected by another rogue with little patience for stories of trinkets once loved?

“Well, it does not apply to me, does it?” Astarion said, running a hand through his hair. His voice lilted with a hint of smugness at the fact he would outlive any romantic partner, but Tav could see the way he averted his gaze from them with the statement. He would outlive us, yes…all of us…

“But marriage, as a concept, is very archaic, isn’t it? The idea of two people being meant for one another. Surely, it’s there just to control people,” he continued.

She wanted to agree with him there. In a way, it was about control, or at least it used to be. Each would belong to one another, a possession, ownership and rules. If she looked at it cynically, all she saw was a socially acceptable form of slavery: people signing themselves over to others in the hope of serving them and receiving ‘love’ as payment. Tonight, though, she would not be cynical. Tav would be open to the arguments and see if her unspoken opinion could be swayed.

“I still think it’s romantic. Riding or not,” spoke up Karlach, a pint of ale being brought to her lips. “So, I’m with you, Gale.” The mug was placed on the table with a slight thud, spatters of foam hitting the wood and staining instantly. “We should do one of those agreements. If we’re not married by a set date, then we marry each other.”

Gale let out a chuckle. “That may prove a tad troublesome, my dear. Astarion, as we’ve heard, is not interested in the concept of marriage in the slightest, and me and Tav are already in a partnership of sorts.”

Of sorts… Of course, he’s said it like that. He loved her; she loved him, but with the end in sight, there was little point in calling it a relationship. Tomorrow, either of them could die, or he could be taken by the goddess. There was also the matter of the crown that they’d discussed at great length. He’d still not provided a proper answer about what he wanted to do once he had reforged it: hand it back as requested, or claim it for his own, ascending to godhood. Of sorts…Maybe he’s right.

“We still haven’t heard little miss fireball’s view on marriage. She might be like me and long for the life of freedom.”

Tav glared at Astarion as he dragged her into the conversation. He knew full well what her opinion was after one drunken night and an in-depth rambling about previous partners, of which he’d had too many to recount. Her list had been rather limited, one of which she had made the mistake of marrying, and he had greedily lapped up every little detail.

---

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

It should have been the happiest day of her life; her friends, as limited as they were, his friends and family gathered around them to celebrate their love. The butterflies in her stomach felt as if they were great Gloomwing moths, batting their oversized wings, creating waves that would break out should she move too quickly, but she fought through them to stand upon the altar with him. Tav had been with the soldier Thomas for only a short while, but it had been a whirlwind of lust and romance which had swept her off her feet. Within six months she had left her hometown to live with him in Cormyr, leaving behind all she had known with nothing but the meagre belongings on her back. He promised her the world, to protect her and love her as she deserved, and she believed him. Yet as the cleric uttered those last words, and Thomas’ icy palm came to her face, pulling her into the firm embrace of his kiss, the doubts screamed within her mind that she was making a mistake.

She wasn’t sure when or how things changed between them, only noticing the creeping feeling of loneliness and isolation as she watched a couple from the bedroom window. They appeared to be so happy and in love. Her gaze moved to that of her husband, who slept naked beside her. The scent of Arkhen’s Hoard clung to his skin just like that of the pale bite marks on his shoulder. She knew full well they weren’t bruises, but questioning him always led to the same outcome, doubting herself, or if she wasn’t careful, feeling guilty for insinuating something he would never do…

Weeks passed, the icy hands closed around her throat, and still she blamed herself. Why had she accused him of sleeping with the barmaid? Why had she not backed down when he promised he was loyal to only her? Why had she been such a terrible wife to the man who loved her?

It was not until a friend of his appeared one day concerned for her safety. Over the months, he had observed the change in her, how she went from being someone filled with a zest for life to withdrawing into herself, reacting with a flinch whenever a hand was suddenly raised. He spoke of his worries, asked her of her relationship, and with each interaction she had said was normal, he’d been quick to tell her it was not. ‘He controls your money? You can’t see your friends without his permission? You deserve to be called that?’

The doubts of her wedding day reappeared with vengeance; the whisper turned to shout, reminding her she needed to get away before something terrible happened. But she loved him, didn’t she? Love meant sacrifices. He was protecting her, looking after her. It was them versus the world, Thomas has said.

20. Eleint, her eye blackened and swollen, Tav left their marital home with the same few belongings she had arrived with, now with the addition of her heart shadowed by abuse. What was marriage if not chains to bind? What was love if not a drug to manipulate with?

---

“...She might be like me and long for the life of freedom.”

Tav brought her glass of wine to her lips thinking over how to navigate the conversation without 1, giving too much away of what had occurred 2, drawing them into a discussion of her past and 3, not breaking Gale’s heart as he looked at her with the hopeful brown eyes she had fallen for. He’d been the complete opposite of Thomas. There was no ill intention in Gale’s words or touch, only the devotion he spoke of, as if she were a goddess and he a loyal follower. But to marry him? To wrap those cuffs around her wrists again and become his property? That would not happen. The same sacrifices would not be made again.

“I suppose that marriage is…” She let the words play on her tongue. “…a serious commitment and if two people are willing, then they should be able to do it.”

Astarion’s lips curled into a smirk. “A little ironic that you speak of commitment with no genuine commitment of your own to your answer.”

“Yeah, Soldier. Tomorrow, we save the day and you and Gale go off into the sunset. There’s going to be wedding invites, right?”

Tav felt as if the spotlight were the sun burning brightly down upon her, all eyes waiting for the answer she would give. She was standing upon the altar as they waited for the ‘I do’ that stuck in her throat, as if it knew what was to come. “Oh, well, I don’t know if things will come to that.” It had only been a few months between them all. She would not make the same mistake again.

“Okay, well say in a year.” Karlach was being persistent. It was understandable knowing her fate. Maybe this was a future she wanted to imagine she could see, a future she knew may never happen for her. Her father never walking her down an aisle.

Tav had already glimpsed the disappointment on Gale’s face, the hopeless romantic most likely already planning the proposal from the very first day they met. He spoke, his voice less certain than before, and she knew he would sacrifice marriage just so long as it meant being with her. “My love, would you possibly like to be wed one day, if the right person were to enter your life?”

“I don’t think so.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the group, eyes falling onto drinks as if that answer had caused all humour to be drawn from the room. Karlach looked between Tav and Gale, waiting for one of them to speak, unsure if it would be safer to just retire to bed for the night.

Astarion eyed up Tav before he spoke, knowing the drama that was to come but savouring the entertainment for the night. “But you’ve done it once before. What’s the harm in going through it again?”

She scowled at him, angry at how he had shared this secret between them with little regard, at how he was drawing out her past so openly. Before she could react, Gale spoke, and she felt her heart sink, hearing the betrayal in his voice.

“Is it true? That you have been married before? Why didn’t you tell me?”

This was not a conversation she wanted in front of the others; one she was afraid would turn into an argument, an interrogation of who she was and all she had been through. “I wouldn’t call it a marriage, a more short-lived romance, maybe.” She tried to brush it all aside, hoping the answer would be satisfactory, but even with the drop in the conversation, she knew that would not be the last of the questions.

“There’s just nothing quite like handing someone the knife they used to carve out your heart.” She whispered, hoping the words would be forgotten.

---

“…become a member of…”

Freeing themselves of their tadpoles had meant a future none had really counted on. Astarion had retreated to the Underdark to raise seven thousand vampire spawn, Karlach had returned to Avernus with Wyll in a hope of finding a permanent solution to her own survival, and Gale and Tav had remained in Baldur’s Gate for a short time, recovering the crown, but more importantly, enjoying the hours of bodies entwined in unbound pleasure.

His proposal that morning had not gone as expected. She had declined marriage but agreed to continue to Waterdeep with him. Though he accepted this and would not pressure her further, he had felt rather disappointed at the outcome. There was no doubt in his mind that he would spend the rest of his life with her, so why not be married, too? She’d told him later of all that had happened in her previous marriage and rage had filled him with the idea someone would treat her that way, but this rage had also come with an idea. He would convince her he was better, that he would worship her and give her all, that marrying him would be a blessing, not a curse.

It started with a blue rose lying upon his pillowcase after he left for the academy, the petals delicate between her fingertips, the small piece of parchment with the words “Marry me” lying beneath it on the cotton. Again Tav had said no, the rose held loosely between her fingers as he had come home. He kissed her and simply replied, “As you wish.”

Each day lay a fresh rose upon his pillow, always in one of the various colours of the rainbow he had conjured over the docks for her to wake to. Each day a new note with the simple words “Marry me” and each day the reply of “As you wish.” But Gale did not give up, and Tav did not stop him from asking. Each rose was savoured until the petals fell, and each note kept hidden away in a glass jar, much like the words she held within her own heart.

One hundred days passed in the same manner, but on that day, she woke to a small garden of roses at the foot of the tower in Waterdeep. A spectrum of colour for all to see from the window, and upon the door, a single note with the all too familiar handwriting. “Marry me.” She spent the day in the comfort of the blooms, watching the bees flutter amongst the multicoloured petals, smelling the scent of the flowers as it drifted with the sea breeze, seeing as people passed by speaking of the romance in the air and wishing it was them to have met someone that loved them so. Thinking over her past, she remembered how marriage had almost destroyed her. She knew it would be different with Gale, but the fear still lay with her, a blackened thread binding her heart shut to the love he constantly showered her with.

Again another “As you wish.”

---

Rain poured outside the tower during the autumn evening, the two lovers lying together naked under a soft blanket in front of the fireplace. Roses of red, pink, and orange lay in a vase, the light bouncing off them, making them seem as if they were aflame themselves. Tav had still not answered this morning’s note, instead placing it within her pocket as a comfort as the day had gone on. 20. Eleint: the day of new beginnings.

“My love, should I stop asking?”

Gale’s voice was quiet, a resignation she had only heard once before when he was truly giving up. She felt her emotions stir, the disappointment in herself that she had made him feel this way. They’d discussed the proposals often as the days had passed, but to her it had become less about the commitment and more about the love between them. Each rose had been cherished; each note, the words she needed to know she was wanted and loved.

She sighed, not knowing how to answer. To say yes was to raise the question of their relationship in full, to say no would be open the discussion of marriage again. “I…don’t know.”

“Tav...” Gale gave a deep sigh. “Marriage to me is a union of the souls. Though some may say it as until death, I believe it goes further than that.” He stroked her hair gently, letting his fingers weave between the locks. “I think that when we eventually pass on, the vows spoken whisper to us and comfort our spirit as the light fades from our eyes. The rings exchanged help us find the one we have lost in the Fugue Plane. Marriage binds us, yes, but we are not prisoners to it.”

“You truly believe that?” she replied, her fingers tracing small circles into his chest.

“I do. I know the day you say yes may never come, but I hope at least that I can continue to ask you. That one day I might sway your heart in such a way.”

She considered his words, listening to the sound of his heart beating as her head rested upon his chest. “If I were to say yes one day, would you still give me roses?”

“I would give you everything you deserve and more, but especially roses.”

Tav turned over the thought, the memories of the last few months, of roses and parchment. The words trickled out quietly from her lips, almost merging with the rainfall outside. “Marry me.”

For a moment Gale was not sure if he had heard her correctly. Surely there must have been a part of the sentence gone amiss from him. Shifting himself, he lifted his shoulder from underneath her, positioning himself to look down at her. He saw himself reflected in her eyes, felt the way his hair swept down, hanging between them. His hand was brought to her cheek, brushing the skin lightly with his fingertips as if to make sure she was real beneath him. “Could you repeat that?” he spoke quietly so as not to break the spell.

She smiled up at him, a rebellious tear running from the corner of her eye, which he caught with the pad of his thumb. “Marry me, Gale.”

His lips caught hers in an intense show of his love for her, his body moving as if to hold her as close as was physically possible. He felt the way her soft palm moved behind his neck, how her tongue danced with his, and welcomed the embrace. Tentatively pulling his head back, he gazed down at her, love and devotion in his words as he spoke.

“As you wish.”

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 gale #bg3 fanfiction #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale bg3 #galemance #ask prompt

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marknee · 1 year ago

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bts fanfics i think shakespeare would plagiarise the absolute shit out of.

chapter iii. ✷ chapter v.

KEYS ON SEVERITY OF SHAKESPEARE’S STATE:

( ✮ ) — the bastard needs to find better hiding places to ‘secretly’ plagiarise. the tavern, really?

( ♬ ) — notes were found in the trunk by the foot of his bed. not the sharpest quill in the pot, i’ll say.

( ✎ ) — word on the street is he’s been arranging a performance at the globe theatre next week.

( ♛ ) — why is this play being taught as part of the british exam curriculum? he didn’t even write it!

THE SHAKESPEARE SERIES.

WARNING: keep in mind, some of these authors are very strict on the rule that no minors should read their work if they’re underage, and i will honour that. but, at the end of the day, i am not your parent. so, there’s that. but heed my warning wisely. any smut or 18+ content is highlighted in bold.

NOTE: dear readers, welcome to phase two. did you miss me? it’s been a long time coming, i assure you, so i’m glad to finally get the ball rolling on the next few chapters of incredible stories. my quill has been neatly sharpened, so are you ready?

⠀

( ♬ ) KEYNOTE — by @missgeniality

!! hoseok x reader | 18.5k !!

strangers to lovers, non-idol!au, smut, slight fluff.

dear reader, after some time away having finished phase one of this series, i happened to unwillingly stumble across some newfound knowledge of shakespeare, which enlightened all that i knew of. unbeknownst to me, shakespeare did write about sexual endeavours within his plays. exhibit a: “but i might see cupid’s fiery shaft, quenched in the chaste beams of the watery moon.” a midsummer night’s dream, act iii, scene i.

but, did shakespeare write: “a gruelling war between your self-respect and lascivious yearning, a war waged for way too long - the fact that you're even thinking about it, your self-respect has to give in to your desires.” indeed not.

effectively, this story doesn’t grant you time to settle in. if anything, you have all but one option when diving in to the sharks: to surrender, allowing yourself to be thrown into the deep end - to a dark predator, who from that moment, sits at the table he’s created within your mind, body and soul, and feasts on every last ounce of sanity you thought existed.

truthfully, what could say it better than: “metal could melt under his scrutiny — you’re nothing but a mere mortal.”

⠀

( ♛ ) ALL’S FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR — by @faryn_rose (ao3)

!! seokjin x reader, jungkook x reader | 48.4k !!

historical!au, violence, drama & romance.

“no, you decided. monsters did not spare people's feelings.”

there are those who fall under the supposition of being an iron fist in a velvet glove, and there are those who persist it. if anything, i argue a third exist: those who prove themselves neither.

throughout this story, it appeared two emotions were consistent in their approach of lurking within its entirety - heartbreak and betrayal. after all, people find themselves doing wild things in the name of love. in the battle between two men, both equal in their share of time on the battlefield, to win the precious heart of the reader, it provokes the question: who do you choose? the proud general willing to die for you, or the gentle chief who vows to keep you safe? certainly a tough choice.

the title is seemingly a perfect choice for this exhilarating fifty-thousand-word story. for the loser is left wondering whether the fight was worth the struggle.

not mentioning the loss of pride knowing their attempts were, in fact, faulty.

but, as said, all’s fair in love and war.

“he treated me like i mattered, like i had power in this world. and i decided that i couldn’t let someone like that go.”

⠀

( ✎ ) 1999 — by @tattookoo

!! campus royalty!jungkook x reader | 17.9k !!

90s!au, college au, hockey!au, fake dating, smut.

“kook, it’s really not hard to pretend to be into you. you’re very easy to love.”

with an unruly raven-haired rake with devastating dimples as the love interest, i am fully subscribed to the belief this utterance lies true. if anything, you’d be a fool to not swoon over this dashing playboy of the 90s.

this story hones into the idea of fake dating for the sake of rebuilding a reputation. but, as it seems, nobody’s fate truly rests in their own hands.

as we know - or will come to in time - a real relationship requires more of something that a fake perhaps less so: vulnerability. true, it carries the burden, yet it leaves space for commitment to linger, though as a visitor, and not as a resident. it seems commitment is what transforms a promise into reality.

the author does an incredible job of bringing every aspect of being exposed to the susceptibility of love, and that is what earned itself a place in my series.

yet, why is it we continue to delve into stories like these? well, for the greatest adventure we humans can ever go on: to run the risk of rejection, and to be completely okay with it.

⠀

( ♛ ) HOOKED — by @joopiterjoon (ao3)

!! namjoon x reader | 102k !!

friends with benefits, smut, angst, 18+.

typically, when tornado warnings siren, it’s our cue to turn tail and flee. so when tornado warnings siren within people, why is it we do not take initiative until the damage is done? even worse, what if they siren within ourselves? as we know, we cannot run from ourselves.

“i need to work on me with me." while this quote may appear ordinary, i fear its the most impactful, and arguably the most important, piece of dialogue in this story - the understanding that the only person who is going to fix you, is yourself. a tough pill to swallow - especially if you were shattered against your will - but one we must digest eventually.

shakespeare wouldn’t have a clue, regarding all his characters are broken beyond belief - and that, in most cases, ends up being their demise.

alternately, this story leaves you with two ending options. i shan’t tell you which is best, dear reader, as that choice belongs to you. but, a simple thing i like to remember:

“love is loss.”

⠀

( ♛ ) HEARTBURN — by @jiminrings

!! jimin x reader | 41.7k !!

heavy angst, emotional infidelity, more angst.

“the ones we love have the power to inflict the greatest scars, for what thing is more fragile than the human heart.” i can’t remember for the life of me who said this, but dear lord, does it just hit the mark for this story.

to cheat is to lack integrity. which jimin palpably inherits. but, it seems in order to acquire agency, sometimes bad things have to be someone’s fault.

throughout this tripartite story, you witness the growth of each individual character - and perhaps the loss of parts, too. each has their depths, their faults, their beauty. nobody is left dry, and it truly brings the story together in a way that connects so well.

“guard your heart, y/n. let it be yours before you share it again.” i ask you, author, what provoked you to write such heart-rending words? and i ask you, dear readers, to bathe in the words i say next: your heart is yours before it is anybody else’s.

this story is not just about the destruction of a great trust, but about a birth of trust within yourself and what it means to wholeheartedly put yourself first - especially in desperate times when nobody else will do it for you.

⠀

( ♬ ) TOLERATE IT — by @archivedkookie (ongoing)

!! taehyung x reader | 6k !!

heavy angst, one-sided love, forced marriage, smut.

“the worst way to love somebody’s to watch them love somebody else and it work out.” body better, maisie peters.

unrequited love is a killer. a crushing, sinking pain when your heart reaches the depths of your stomach, and it’s more common experience than one might think - especially between you and i.

whilst this story is still ongoing, i know i’m about to be completely swept off my feet. especially with leading quotes such as: “because before all this happened, you were his friend.”

this story feels familiar - the words familiar too. simply because i assure we’ve all been the the exact boat - the one floating upon stormy seas of rejection. we understand the readers pain, we sympathise with it, and we connect to it.

“not your love to be tolerated when you know you should be celebrated.”

we’re fools of love, that’s all we are. there’s no magic or defiance behind it.

and in the words of the perks of being a wallflower: “we accept the love we think we deserve.”

⠀

( ✎ ) LEVEL OF RESTRAINT — by @lemonjoonah

!! jimin x namjoon x reader x taehyung | 13k !!

office!au, bdsm!au, 18+, thriller, smut.

“any position beneath you would suit me nicely.” why don’t you shut the fuck up?

now, tell me, at what point does one cross the thin line between obsession and possession? what are the defining factors, and when down that very same faded line, does one reach a great epiphany they’ve reached a place of no return? does ‘love’ not beg for sacrifice? does it?

setting the scene, with characters like these, it’s hard to not risk the fall of betrayal from the thrust of arguably non-consensual sexual situations, but i’ll let you be the judge of that. effectively, this story is one you have to experience for yourself, dear reader, in order to understand. there is only so much i can tell you- reveal, express, without running my mouth and ruining the whole plot line.

though, i shall leave you with one piece of advice. a thought for you to ponder on: pay attention.

and talk about jimin and namjoon being sex on legs all you want, but there is no denial this story has a deeper, more sinister verona.

lady macbeth said it herself: “look like th' innocent flower, / but be the serpent under't.”

⠀

( ♬ ) WANT A TASTE? — by @suga-kookiemonster

!! yoongi x reader | 18.3k !!

friends to lovers, humour, shopping mall!au, smut.

"who are you, yoongi? what is your truth?” if there is something i can respect, should it be this line.

i believe there is a rich beauty in the small, gentle exchanges between strangers, to which ripen, transforming into the most special of connections between friends - and before long, between lovers. it’s a slow and steady process i’m sure, but i find those types of love are the most worthwhile.

patience is, of course, dear reader, a virtue.

in my humble opinion, this story does nothing but breathe fun from its very core, encapsulating the sweet essence of excitement - of belonging - and burrowing itself around you like a warm blanket. that’s the sheer power of a writer - to familiarise the strange and mystify the familiar.

tell, aren’t you intrigued?

“all the time you've spent with him has already alerted you to the fact that his hard persona is all a front.”

took you long enough.

⠀

( ♛ ) THE WEDDING ARRANGEMENT — by @sugaurora (ao3)

!! namjoon x black!reader | 44.2k !!

enemies with benefits to lovers, smut, romance.

“and maybe that's because it wasn't the kind of love you always expected, but something different that you hadn't fully let yourself accept.” if this were any other topic of matter, i would let wit take its course. however, as it is not, i am inept from doing so - rather i shall let your own imagination prove itself dominant, dear reader.

effectively, if there is anything this story has mastered, it’s the realisation that assumptions can erode any relationship, and inevitably are a fate we, the human race, continue to face and to fight.

“strangely, the first thing you thought of was home.” while i presume i join the line of overdue attendants to stumble across this indescribable romance, to say its definitely left its mark - perchance, more.

if you seek a delicious story to sink your teeth into, let this take the cake. besides, the story isn’t the only appetising option on the menu.

“you're a walking erotic novel cover, namjoon.”

⠀

( ✮ ) FINAL SLEIGH — by @floralseokjin

!! seokjin x reader | 23.3k !!

office!au, rivals/enemies to lovers, smut.

in order to reach the beautiful rose nestled within its bush, you must first combat the prickly thorns to which ensure its survival by the name of protection. mind you, shakespeare never said that - i did. my quill is just as sharp it’s practically lethal.

the art of protection within humans, i say, is much different. it jumps out in strange forms, but each is just as valid as the other. which is what indefinitely makes this trope all the more interesting - especially in this story.

“feelings was a scary word, an uncertain word, but you thought you liked the way it made you feel.” arguably, if a pair are able to surmount this indescribable nine letter word, possibly even sit with the idea, then perhaps their journey marks itself a success. and that to me, is worth fighting for.

this story is a perfect mix between comedy and actuality, plenishing us of pure enjoyment while hooking us round the legs in the name of desire disguised. a perfect mask, indeed.

we’re all playing with fire. but if you don’t take that foolish risk, how’d you know you’d burn?

⠀

( ✮ ) SIT. STAY. — by @daechwitatamic

!! seokjin x reader | 14k !!

neighbours!au, dog parent!au, smut.

“if you love somebody, let them go.” not to delve too deep into things, but baring in mind society’s self-destructive addiction to faster living, it poses the question whether “stay” within this context carries a much heavier weight than intended. asking someone to stick by you in a world which thrives on the act of haste, is a form of intimacy one may not throughly tread.

but understand this, dear readers, i do not miss anything.

the affinity within this story is one to point out. it’s so raw and genuine that it feels uncomfortably natural - to the point that freshly reading this felt like returning to an old friend your soul grew attached to in a past life, glad - and almost grateful - to encounter them once more.

“would you be better off telling him later, when things are settled, when you can tie up the story nice and neat?” oh, how you wound me. just so, the new in a relationship is a hard course to navigate, especially when it comes to our deepest shadows - perhaps it would be easier to stick a decorative bow over the cracks.

but then again, how else would light get in?

⠀

( ♛ ) BLOOM — by @hobidreams

!! florist!namjoon x assassin!reader | 20.7k !!

smut, action, angst, opposites attract.

in the nature of life, it is normal for us to resist death. but in the nature of the world, in the end, death overwhelms life. but ‘tis not death itself we find ourselves afraid of, rather the possibility of it. “like how a child fears what might lay beyond a closet door, beneath a four-frame bed.”

even i fed the dark, hungry demon of that spiralling thought once.

within this captivating story, the two main characters of life and death coexist beside each other. neither try to dominate and drain the power of the other. they simply rest, side by side, together. while joon grows life through his plants, the reader strips that of what is so. to each to their own. the birth, and the destruction.

but, dear reader, does life beg the existence of death? or simply, is it the other way around? can death suffice without existence? “you can't seem to sleep… without the comfort that there's something growing, thriving in life just a few feet away.” …perhaps.

despite the pair being so different from one another, neither allow that defining characteristic the chance to ruin their dangerous, but very real connection. well… until the last petal falls.

but i shall let you discover that for yourself.

TAGLIST: @screamertannie @bebejungkook @taleasnewastime

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stars-and-inkpots · 1 year ago

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Where I'll Stay (At Your Side) | Gale x Reader

You know Gale has his sights set on the crown. At first, you had agreed that it sounded like a good idea. But now, holding the book in your hands, you worry about history and it's tendency to repeat itself.

Despite the anxiety blooming in your chest, you hand the book over to Gale.

Pairing: Gale/Reader

Tags: light hurt/comfort, light angst, act iii spoilers

Notes: this wizard can carry so much hubris and self-worth issues. something kinda short that i wanted to write after playing through more of act iii (even though it is so very bugged rn)

Ao3 Link: Where I'll Stay (At Your Side)

Word Count: 1,042

Breaking into the basement of Sorcerous Sundries was no easy feat. But because it was Gale who wanted to do it, you were more than happy to try. Astarion was happy for the opportunity to go precisely where he wasn’t allowed to, and Karlach was eager to join because it sounded exciting. Together, the four of you managed to sneak your way into the librarians office and through the portal that led to the basement.

There were traps, because the elaborate secret portal behind the very locked door wasn’t enough, and they were a pain to deal with. They were no problem for Astarion, however, who quickly disarmed them the moment they were noticed.

Once you finally found the book, you were suddenly filled with a growing apprehension. Looking at it, the severe and intimidating cover, it made you doubt that this was right.

You know Gale has his sights set on the crown. At first, you had agreed that it sounded like a good idea. But now, holding the book in your hands, you worry about history and it’s tendency to repeat itself.

Despite the anxiety blooming in your chest, you hand the book over to Gale.

---

Back at the Elfsong Tavern, Gale is flipping through the book with rapt attention. He hasn’t said a word to you while you sit on the bed with him.

“Gale,” you say, breaking the silence. He looks up at you immediately.

“Yes, my love?” He answers. He sets the book down beside him, and you feel relieved, for some reason, to see it not in his hands.

You move closer to him, settling yourself in his lap, straddling his hips. He’s quick to move his hands to your hips. He looks up at you, big brown eyes catching the light from the lantern on the side table. You can’t help but kiss him, holding his face between your palms.

“While I am not opposed to affection without reason, of course; I feel like I must ask if there is a cause for such sudden sentiments?”

Gale has a knack for seeing through you sometimes. No matter your efforts, he always seems to know when something is bothering you, and he is surprisingly adept at prying the truth from you.

“I’m worried about you,” you admit plainly. His smile fades.

“About what?”

“The crown,” you answer after a moment, hesitant even to tell him. He hums, brow furrowing slightly.

“You trust me with it, don’t you?” He sounds vulnerable when he asks. The thought of your doubt in him is near painful to consider.

“I do,” you’re quick to reassure. “I do, Gale, I really do. It’s just… will you still be yourself with power like that? How do you know it won’t change you?”

“Well, of course it will change me,” he says, with a laugh as though it’s no concern to him. It likely isn’t, you realise. Gale doesn’t see what you see in him; the thought of him changing doesn’t strike him with the same fear that it does you. He watches your eyes betray your feelings immediately. “I’ll still be myself; just stronger. Isn’t that what you want for me?”

“I want you as you are.” Your voice is strained. “I want you .”

“And you will have me. This is no selfish endeavour, I assure you. I’m doing this for both of us.” His smile has returned, the thought of your future together is enough to give him hope. You hate that you don’t share the sentiment.

You lean against him, resting your head against his chest. You’re quiet for a few minutes. Gale’s hand runs up and down your back, occasionally running through the hair at the nape of your neck.

“If this is truly what you want, then I will stand behind you… But I’m worried that’s where I’ll stay; I’m worried that is where you will keep me, by no fault of your own. I’m worried I will never be at your side again. Gods cannot love mortals, not truly.” You feel Gale’s hand stop at your shoulder. “Gods cannot be tender, they cannot love in the way that mortals love.” You can hear him begin to say something, but you stop him as you continue speaking. “I don’t care about your powers.” You lean back again to look at him. “I fell in love with Gale. Gale Dekarios. Not Gale, wizard of Waterdeep. Not Gale, God of Magic, Master of the Weave.” Your palms rest against his cheeks again, and you press a kiss to his forehead. “If this is what you want, I will help you. But you must know that I will love you no matter what. You could lose all of your magic tomorrow, and I would still love you just as much. You are more to me than your achievements and your titles, Gale Dekarios.”

Gale stares up at you, speechless.

“You are entirely too generous. I deserve very little of your kind words,” he says finally.

“You deserve all of them and more. I will repeat myself until you believe me.” You watch the tears gather in the corner of his eyes, with your own to match. He pulls you forward to kiss you.

The book is abandoned, pushed to the side, and eventually hits the floor. Gale ignores it, far too concerned with you. You , who loves him for the man he is. Despite everything, you love him. Sure, he may not entirely believe himself worthy of such love yet, but the longer you stay with him, every reassurance you give unasked; it does slowly push him to believe that perhaps he is worth more than others have convinced him of in the past.

You love him like no one else has. You love him, even with his flaws. You love him, would still love him even without his magic. You are the first to love the things about him that he would abandon; the things about him that are not perfect. He would be a fool to throw that away for the crown.

What he knows he wants, as uncertain as the future may be, is to have you at his side. He doesn’t need the crown to have that.

#gale dekarios #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate x reader #x reader fic #gale x reader #baldurs gate 3 x reader #bg3 #baldurs gate gale

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hikarry · 3 months ago

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Posting a new chapter at 7 in the morning, eh? Never say I don't love yall

Rating: Explicit Warning: Temporary Major Character Death Fandom: Good Omens Relationship: Aziraphale/Crowley Taglist: @whickber @carontnav @aaronontherun @time-travelling-chaos @rebelcaptain4life @jack-of-nearly-all-trades @iris-echos @neverlet @mjshortformcjesus @zonzolik @mace-ig @nbjetsam @halfbakedideas @the-real-awidferd @cheerful-magnet

Preview:

Crowley, Jane, Eleanor, and Jonathan executed what they believed to be the most cunning heist of the era! Crowley, in particular, was convinced of its brilliance. The concept of the Clerkenwell Diamond Robbery originated with Jane, but Crowley couldn't contain his delight when she invited him to join their operation. The endeavour was exhilarating, injecting an electrifying thrill into their lives. Admittedly, considering the century had just commenced, there remained ample opportunities for further daring exploits over the next 90 years. However, the triumph felt hollow and fleeting. The rush of success used to linger, coursing through Crowley's veins for a prolonged duration. Now, it dissipates swiftly, leaving behind a poignant reminder of who’s not there.

Following the heist, he isolates himself within the confines of his home for a fortnight, finding solace in memories of days gone by.

Crowley rarely seeks the company of other demons. He finds them to be... ruthless. Eccentrics, at best.

He thinks that they would instigate conflict if one didn't already exist for them to exploit.

Now, however, he seeks companionship, seeking solace in one of the few havens where it's always available.

Under the blazing London sun, Mortarion, known in his human guise as Jonathan, a demon distinguished by his slender face, aquiline nose, and adorned with a top hat, strolled along the bustling street adjacent to The Grapes Tavern. Along his path, he encountered acquaintances who engaged him in friendly conversation. A crowd had gathered in the vicinity, lending an animated atmosphere to the scene.

“You ever get that feeling,” Crowley inquires after a brief interval of silence, their drinks now served before them, “like someone's tailing you? Like Hell's keeping tabs?”

#time war au #good omens #good omens fanfiction #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #anthony j crowley #aziracrow

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shyvioletcat · 1 year ago

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Oh hi! Yes, This is something a little new and different, especially for @sjmcrackshipmonth. For Pirate Day my wonderful friend @sassyhobbits and I came up with a little idea, she came up with this wonderful artwork and I wrote a fic and we had so much fun. So, without further rabbling here is my first official Aelin x Fenrys work.

CW: it’s smutty, like really smutty. Secondhand embarrassment

FIND THE ACCOMPANYING ARTWORK HERE.

~~~~~

People told Aelin she was mad for running a tavern in a pirate port, and at times she would have to admit that they were right. Brawls were common, there had been damage to the ceilings from more gunshots than she could count, when things truly got out of hand there was an occasional stabbing. Aelin had threatened carousers here and there herself down the barrel of the pistol she kept stowed away in a dark corner of the counter. But for all its trouble the White Stag thrived under her charge. She could never be idle and a tavern in a pirate port like this was a lucrative business. And it wasn’t like she was without protection.

Rhoe Galathynius was the most prominent merchant in Orynth, which made him a veritable king amongst men. Coin was the power in these waters, and their city on the river thrived under his watchful eye and scheming. So the fancy, looping gold lettering of her family name under the wood carved sign of the rearing white stag hanging above her door let patrons know who they were dealing with. It was an assurance for both her and her customers that serious misdeeds would be met with severe punishment, and that kept people coming to her fine establishment night after night.

Tonight was busy, patrons filling nearly every space they could. It was good for business but it was running Aelin off her feet. Usually she was content to watch from the landing above the main floor or slip through the crowd mingling, leaving the bartending to those she hired. But tonight with a barmaid ill that’s where Aelin found herself—pouring pint after pint, the pockets of her skirts full of coin. The gossip was that a few ships had docked over the past few days, bringing an influx of commerce and bodies to the city. Aelin hadn’t caught the names of the ships, but from the energy the city hummed they must have been successful with their seaborn endeavours.

“Lass, two more!” A man weathered by wind and salt called to her. From the way he swayed he probably didn’t need another, let alone two, she would have to cut him off after this.

Aelin grabbed two tankards from below the bar and filled them with beer from the keg behind her. By the second the flow was slowing, a sure sign she’d need to send Ren down to the cellar for another. His main job was to provide muscle when things got out of hand as pirates and their affiliates tended to do. It was just convenient for her that his muscles were useful for other things as well. When she had a moment to breathe she’d have to track him down.

“All clean,” Luca said, setting down a clean crate of tankards. “And more to wash I see, my hands will be shrivelled as prunes by the end of the night.”

“My apologies, but I’ll be sure to compensate you accordingly,” Aelin took a handful of her green overskirt and shook it enough that the coins in her pocket jingled.

Luca’s eyes lit up as the crate of dirty tankards was set in front of him. “I’ll get these cleaned up right away.”

Aelin smiled then started unloading the clean drinkware that would be dirty again all too soon. She didn’t bother to make the arrangement look tidy, on a night like this no one would notice. Feeling sweat gather on her brow Aelin dotted it away with on her sleeve. It wasn’t a particularly hot night but with the amount of bodies in the tavern and how busy it was, her temperature wasn’t surprising. She was glad of the stray breezes that would brush over her shoulders, bare from the way her blouse draped off them.

“Spare a drink for a poor, weary sailor?”

The question came from behind her, smooth and sensuous, the words were nothing but a tempting caress over her skin. Aelin knew that voice and knew its full intent, even though it had been missing from her tavern for months. As pleased as she was to hear it she made sure her smile was hidden away as she turned around slowly, a hand on her hip conveying her feigned displeasure at being interrupted. This is how they would start the game, and if he played along they would both win.

“Fenrys Moonbeam, what brings your sorry arse into my tavern,” Aelin drawled.

Fenrys’ smile was pure taunt and flirtation. “The rum and the company of course.”

“So the rum takes precedence over the company then?” Aelin said, stepping up to be just a little closer.

“Ah, Princess,” Fenrys said, leaning his elbows on the counter that was still between them and not bothering to hide the appreciative sweep his eyes did over her. “You know what the truth of it is.”

Aelin couldn’t help it, she felt the corner of her lips tilt into a crooked smile. But she also wasn’t about to concede, “Do I, though? Nary a word all these long months, for all I knew you had found a more favourable port and run off with a prettier girl.”

“Prettier than you? I think I’d be hard pressed to find someone as lovely as you, Miss Galathynius,” Fenrys said.

“You’re flattering me for a free drink,” Aelin accused.

Fenrys tipped his head back and laughed. “Is it working?”

There was a thunk as the short glass hit wood, and then Aelin was pouring out a measure of her best rum. “Yes.”

Their fingers brushed as Fenrys took the glass and he downed it. While he was occupied Aelin took the opportunity to peruse over him. First she looked for any sign of injury, pirating had its many dangers but from what she could see there were no noticeable hurts. Fenrys looked good, he always did. His golden sunkissed curls were tied back from his face showing off the perpetual smile that seemed to grace his lips. The blue coat he wore was very dashing, with the cut of it accentuating the broadness of his shoulders. Ever the flaunter he’d chosen a white shirt that dipped low, the white of it contrasting the deep bronze of his skin made deeper from the hours he spent in the sun. He’d been gods’ blessed with handsomeness that could only be dreamed of, and an ego to match. Some found him insufferable, mainly those who lacked a sense of humour or any idea of fun. For Aelin, he was an utter delight.

She was called away before they could continue their conversation, but Fenrys didn’t go anywhere. He lingered at the bar, claiming a stool when one became available.

“The next one will cost you,” Aelin said, wiping down the counter so it looked like she had a reason to stop.

“Always such a hard businesswoman.” Fenrys didn’t protest and dropped two coins on the worn wood.

Aelin slid them off into her and then her pocket. “What will it be?”

“That sweet Perranth wine if you have it,” Fenrys requested.

“You’re in luck, my supplier just brought in a delivery yesterday,” Aelin wasted no time, because she didn’t have it, and poured Fenrys a tankard of wine. Glasses were for quiet gatherings, not an overcrowded tavern where it was likely to be knocked out of an unsuspecting hand and shattered on the floor.

“My thanks,” Fenrys tipped his drink at her.

Aelin left him to his wine and tended to the never ending flow of patrons looking for food and drink. Fenrys just stayed sitting there and making sure to catch her eye whenever she passed by. There was no question as to why he was here.

One evening a year or two ago Fenrys had come in with the crew of the Maeve. That night had been vastly different to this, with Fenrys and his crewmates nearly the only customers for the evening. That had allowed an easier night for Aelin with more than enough opportunity for conversation with the charismatic man—not with the others because they were a sullen and broody bunch—and eventual flirting. As the night wore on, she and Fenrys ended up on a low couch by the fire. Along with his staggering handsomeness, he was also highly entertaining. His ludicrous stories had Aelin’s sides hurting with laughter and he was kind enough to ply her with enough compliments to keep her by his side. And when it was just the two of them left basking in the fire’s warmth and Fenrys leaned in, she’d let him kiss her. Which led to Aelin guiding him up the stairs and to her room where they kept each other company in other ways.

Since then, whenever he was in port Fenrys appeared in her tavern and they spent what time they could together until he was called away to the sea again. His captain was a hard bastard and didn’t see the point to lingering on land. The first mate wasn’t much better. Aelin had more than her fair share of run-ins with Rowan Whitethorn—none of them ending well. Their arguments had become legendary. She was more than sure that she hated him and that the feeling was mutual.

Fenrys couldn’t be more different than those men, vivacious and brash, he was more than enough a match for her when it came to wit. It was hard to find a flaw in the man. With so much in his favour, Aelin was still unsure whether or not she was in love with him. He was gone too often and for too long for any real emotion to take root. But at the very least they were friends, and they had fun. Without Fenrys her life would be far more dull and the unexpectedness of his arrival always gave their trysts a thrill. If he ever gave up seafaring maybe she could love him more than she did. There was a wildness to Fenrys that only the sea could soothe. Life on land just might bore him to death.

Despite the lack of attention, Fenrys remained, his thumb running over a loose nail that was poking out of the wooden counter. Aelin made note to fix that, she didn’t need the complaints of an unobservant patron who hurt themselves or ripped their clothing. She had to commend Fenrys for his patience, a lesser man might have run off by now.

“How has your day been, Miss Galathynius?” Fenrys asked when Aelin stopped near him to pour out a measure of rum for another customer.

“As you can see, I’m very busy tonight,” Aelin told him, watching his eyes shine as he sipped.

He didn’t look away as the tankard lowered. “I can wait.”

Aelin wanted to sigh in self pity, but she didn’t. “It’s going to be a long night.”

“You can bet on it,” Fenrys said, his words a sensual promise.

Aelin passed off the tankard to the patron who gave her the money in exchange, when there was a call for more beer it reminded her of the impending problem. “Make yourself useful and I might think about it.”

Fenrys’ head titled, the beaded lock of his hair swaying. “How so?”

“I need another one of these,” Aelin said and slapped the keg behind her, “brought up from the cellar.”

Finishing off his wine far quicker than it deserved Fenrys got up from his stool. “It would be my pleasure.”

Aelin pulled out the ring of keys that she tucked into the wide belt around her waist and handed them over to the pirate. “Do not cause me more trouble than you're worth down there.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Fenrys said with a wink, fingers grazing over the outside of her palm and up her fingers. Despite the heat of the room and the busy fluster Aelin had worked herself into she shivered. That was the first time they had touched and that soft caress had her craving more.

She didn’t have long to dwell on that as she was summoned again and was more than occupied while Fenrys was gone. Drinks were poured one after the other, bowls of Emrys’ chowder went out from the kitchens, the way this was going Aelin wouldn’t be done until the sun came up. Gods knew if Fenrys would be around that long. Aelin groaned, cursing her bad luck. The one night Fenrys would be assuredly in Orynth she would be run off her feet and too busy and too tired to enjoy his company.

Before too long the Fenrys was back, keg on his shoulder to keep it out of the way of the patron’s heads—very considerate. He stepped behind the counter, easing the fresh beer onto the empty stand and expertly fixed the tap. With his job done Fenrys grabbed himself a tankard and helped himself to the first serving. Aelin didn’t bother to stop him, she just gave him a crooked smile and a playful roll of her eyes. He stayed where he was, even though he shouldn’t. Aelin ignored his antics and grabbed two tankards for her own uses. As she leaned over to fill them with beer a broad hand rested on the small of her back, deft fingers tucking her keys back into her belt. With two tankards full, Aelin straightened, one in each hand, and found her path blocked.

“Out of my way, please,” she huffed and then blew at a loose strand of hair. She had tied a scarf around her head in an effort to keep her hair out of her face. The flustering conditions and the humidity weren’t helping the intent.

“Where are you going?” Fenrys asked, standing a little taller but not leaving for where he should be as a paying customer.

Aelin took advantage of the space she could, easing through the small gap Fenrys left between his body and the counter, careful not to spill the beer. “To those people in the corner, I promised I’d bring it over once you had done your job.”

She thought she was free and clear when troublesome hands on her hips stopped her progress. “Do I get a thank you for that?”

The annoyed smirk that lacked the needed irritation was already on her face when she looked up at him. Fenrys was a good head taller than her, his face was full of mirth and all but begging for a kiss as he looked down at her. But Aelin wasn’t ready to give into him just yet.

“Have you bathed since making port, or was the allure of my company too compelling?” She knew the answer, she had noticed the lack of braids he wore while at sea, and she was sure his hair was wet when he first walked in.

That smile fell, an affronted look filled his face. “I’m offended that you would assume that, Aelin.”

“I’m offended that I wasn’t worth skipping a bath over,” Aelin told him.

That was enough of a distraction and when Fenrys laughed Aelin took her chance and stepped out of his hold. Over the commotion of the tavern she swore she could still hear his amusement chasing her through the crowd. Aelin set the foaming tankards down and accepted the generous contribution to the establishment in return. Her pocket was starting to get severely weighed down, she might have to duck up to her rooms to empty it into her coffer.

Her return to her task as barmaid was slower than anticipated, many patrons stopping her for greetings and snippets of gossip. Aelin liked to know what was going on in her city so she listened to all of it, tucking away bits of information that might be useful to herself or her father. Rumours were buzzing that the Maeve had been quite successful on its latest voyage and promised more profit. A hoard of treasure maps was cited as the reason. She might have to ask Fenrys about it.

Eventually Aelin made it back to her post and was surprised to see a small woman with dark hair seated next to Fenrys. They chatted, and the woman laughed at something he said, even touching his forearm that rested on the bar. If Aelin didn’t recognise the woman she might have been jealous. The golden, smiling man was not the company her friend preferred to seek out.

“Elide, hello,” Aelin said, resting her elbow on the other woman’s shoulder.

Elide was dressed in a simple lavender gown, nothing gaudy or to draw attention. She preferred an inconspicuous life where she was the one who made the rules. Her family winery in Perranth was her’s once her parents decided to retire. In the meantime she set about proving just how capable she was.

“I was just chatting to Elide about her wonderful wine,” Fenrys said. “Amongst other things.”

Aelin raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“There was a request for a barrel to be sent to the Maeve and I had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting the captain who was the only one left on the ship,” Elide explained. “Such a sullen bastard. I could barely get three words out of him before he disappeared back into his cabin. Luckily before he did he threw some coins at some boys on the dock and they carried it up the gangway.”

“I don’t know why you don’t find yourself a new captain,” Aelin directed at Fenrys.

The man just shrugged. “He’s good at what he does and I get the benefits. It’s not like I have to talk to him. I leave all that up to Whitethorn.”

“Whitethorn? Isn’t he the one who you threw a glass at that one time?” Elide asked.

Aelin huffed, the sound full of aggravation, and then went back to being behind the counter. “The very same.”

One evening for some reason beyond her, Rowan Whitethorn had graced her tavern with his insufferable presence. Nothing had been to his standards, not the beer, not the music and he had been very vocal about it. Aelin had told him to go elsewhere if the current surroundings were so offensive, he ignored her and chose to stay. When he claimed the beer was cheap and tasted like shit she had lost her temper. She had picked up a nearly empty glass of wine and threw it at him which he had effortlessly dodged, something akin to shock on his face as he watched the red liquid drip down the wall. Her demanding he pay for the damages had been the final straw and with a scowl on his sharp and handsome face he left her tavern. Aelin counted that as a win for her.

“The glass was chipped anyway, it was no loss to me.”

Fenrys looked like he was trying to keep his laughter in and like he was about to say something he’d surely regret.

“Don’t,” Aelin said, pointing a finger at him. “You’ll not say a word if you know what’s good for you.”

Yielding to her request, Fenrys held up his hands, the gold rings on his fingers glinting in the low light. “Understood, Princess. Now if you fine ladies will excuse me.”

He was gone moments later, disappearing into the crowd, but Aelin had no doubt that he would return. Fenrys was far too eager for her company to be dissuaded so easily. There was a call further down the counter for more beer and Aelin saw to that before coming back to her friend who hadn’t left.

“Can I get you anything? On the house of course,” Aelin offered.

Elide gave her a knowing look, her eyebrows raised like she could have been questioning Aelin’s sanity. “What are you doing?”

Aelin felt her own brows narrow in confusion. “Working, as you can see.”

“Aelin, my dearest, most lovely friend,” Elide said leaning forward on the counter. “You have a man here, who is desperate for your company and is more than willing to give you a long night of pleasure, and you’re passing out beers instead?”

“I don’t exactly have a choice here,” Aelin said. “Essar is ill, and you can see how busy we are. I’m not exactly the shrewd business woman I claim to be if I ignore it to take Fenrys to my bed.”

As a timely reminder yet another patron asked for a pour of wine and rum, Aelin saw to it as quickly as she could. Luck was not on her side this evening, at this rate she’d be too tired to do anything once she fell into bed.

“I won’t say that you won’t owe me for this,” Elide said, standing up from her stool, “because you will.”

“What are you…”

With quick fingers Elide braided her hair back, securing the end with a dark piece of ribbon. “Show me where everything is.”

It took Aelin a moment to catch on, her face going slack before she grinned. She showed Elide where everything she might need was, going over it twice more for her own peace of mind than her friend requiring more clarification. Aelin also made sure to inform the other’s working tonight so there wasn’t any confusion as to why Elide was behind the counter.

“Keep the tankard tilted, helps limit the foam and unhappy customers,” Aelin explained and the amber liquid rose higher as she gave a hands-on demonstration. “And I think that’s all you need to know.”

“I think I’ve got it,” Elide said.

“And if you have any trouble, call for Ren. He’ll sort it out,” Aelin added.

“Aye, captain.” Elide flourished that comment with a salute.

“What’s going on here?” Fenrys’ voice cut through the conversation.

“I need to deposit some of tonight’s earnings in my room,” Aelin said, sauntering around to the other side of the counter, a hand raising to even out the collar of Fenrys’ jacket. “Care to join me?”

His dark eyes flashed as he easily read the implications of her invitation. “Lead the way.”

Aelin took his hand, leading him through the crowd to the staircase in the corner. The crowd took up the shanty that was being played. When they passed the small gathering dancing in front of the musicians Fenrys spun her and moved with the music, but still kept them heading towards their destination. Reaching the wooden stairs, Aelin gathered her skirts in her free hand to prevent herself from tripping as they hurried up the steps. On the landing they went left, the right led to a halfway with a handful of rooms she let out. Her private ones were larger and more secluded, the balcony on the outside offering beautiful views of the river port. That door painted a rich green was the last obstacle between her and what she wanted. And in just a few more steps she would be there.

Fenrys was a heavy and welcome presence behind her as she worked on unlocking the door. His hands were on her waist, his lips on the bare skin of her shoulder, it was enough of a distraction that Aelin was struggling to secure the key in the lock. That was only made worse when those godsdamned hands slipped higher, pressing over her bodice until they cupped her breasts. That had Aelin arching onto him, and in return that had Fenrys squeezing before his hands travelled downwards again—fingers catching on the neckline of her blouse. She was desperate to feel those hands on her with nothing to hinder them.

“Fen,” Aelin whispered harshly. He just hummed his response onto her skin. “I would very much like to open the door so that we can continue this more privately.”

“My apologies,” he said, low enough that it had her skin pebbling.

Other than that he let her be, halting his distracting journey over her body. It was a disappointing loss but the sooner Aelin got the door open, the sooner they could start again.

Blocking out everything except the lock and key was the only way that Aelin managed to get the door open. She stepped into the dimly lit space, a single lamp barely glowing on a small table where she dropped her keys. There was a couch and an armchair set in front of a cold fireplace and there was another door that led to a private bathroom. The place could have been tidier, but Aelin hadn’t exactly been expecting guests. Fenrys closing the door redirected her attention, and he all but stalked towards her. To tease and make the trek that much easier, Aelin backed up towards her bedroom. She was caught just as they got to the entrance of it, Fenrys catching her by the waist and cupping her face. The moan at that first press of his lips was undeniable.

For a while that’s all they did, just kiss in the dim light under the doorway. When Fenrys’ thumb dragged down the length of her neck, Aelin got impatient. She angled them so that they entered her room with tangled steps towards her bed. Her hands weren’t idle, searching out what bare skin they could. When there wasn’t much on offer Aelin slid one hand down the centre of his chest, all the way down to palm him through his trousers. Fenrys stumbled forward with enough strength to force Aelin back a couple of steps.

“Still have your sea legs?” Aelin teased through her laughter.

Huffing his own laugh, Fenrys pulled her closer so their noses brushed. “Maybe I’ll be steadier on my knees then.”

Before Aelin could even comment his lips were back on her’s, while his focus shifted to removing her clothes. The belt around her waist was the first to go, then his deft fingers had the laces and buttons of her forest green outer skirt undone and it was dropping over her hips. There was a jingling thud as the coins hit the floor, probably scattering, but that was a problem for later. Fenrys' progress was stalled when he discovered that the laces of her undershirt were hidden beneath her bodice. His groan of frustration was comical, and Aelin would have laughed if it weren’t for the way Fenrys’ hands were playing along the tops of her exposed breasts as his mouth lowered to her neck.

Her body was tugged forward as the laces of her bodice were pulled at. Fenrys struggled, getting clumsier the more desperate he became, and even now Aelin’s patience was running thin. She needed him, now. It seemed Fenrys felt the same because one moment her floral embroidered bodice was tight against her body and the next it was falling away. Confused by the sudden development Aelin looked down to see the metallic glint of a knife and the ribbons in pieces.

“You ruined my laces,” Aelin gasped, shoving the brute back half a step. “You bastard.”

Fenrys just smirked down at her, reaching out to slip the strap of the bodice off one shoulder, “I’ll buy you more,” then he did the same with the other. “The prettiest ribbons you can find.”

Aelin let the useless piece of clothing fall off her arms, Fenrys watching her every movement. She gave him a look that said don’t touch as she saw to the underskirt herself, her untucked blouse falling to the very top of her things. Fenrys’ gaze swept over her from head to toe, once and then twice, his eyes catching on the loose neckline that was revealing just enough to drive him wild. But he didn’t move, just waiting for Aelin to dictate what happened next.

“The prettiest and the most expensive,” Aelin said.

Fenrys nodded, not taking his eyes off her for a second. “Whatever you say.”

She didn’t bother with the buttons of her blouse, instead she just pulled it over her head. When Fenrys reappeared in her vision his eyes were ravenous and his hands twitched at his side, no doubt warring with himself and the need to touch her. Aelin pulled out the head scarf and then she was bare except for the simple underwear at her hips. Her hand draped from her neck, drifting down between the valley of her breasts.

“Do you promise?” Aelin asked, smirking at the man in front of her who looked ready to erupt.

She saw the exact moment his resolve snapped, had her laughing as he rushed forward and gave his breathless answer against her lips. “Yes.”

Aelin found herself seated on the edge of her bed, her senses fleeing as Fenrys kissed her. She was half aware of him shedding his jacket and starting on the buttons of his white shirt. The thought came to her that she should help him so that his hands might be better occupied, but she never got the chance to voice it in the slightest. Because Fenrys dropped to his knees in front of her, large hands inching up her thighs. Aelin shuddered and her underwear was pulled down her legs and thrown away. A single wink was all Fenrys gave before on her.

The first brush of his tongue over Aelin’s core had her gasping, arms quaking where they braced her weight on the bed. Fenrys was one to playfully brag about the wonders for his mouth and Aelin could truly attest to every word. She buried her hand in his curls, ruining the bun he had them tied in, and gave herself over to the feeling of every nip, every press of his tongue. Aelin moaned, loud and unrestrained. It had been too long since someone had made her feel like this. The pleasure built to the point of consuming her when every ministration stopped and Fenrys pulled out of her grasp.

“The hell… what are you doing?” Aelin asked through her laboured breaths. Her heart was pounding, her body screaming to be touched again.

“I’ll never last,” Fenrys said, sounding a little mad at himself. That anger only became more evident as he yanked at his clothes to get them off. If Aelin had the wits she might have helped him, but for now she could only watch as everything was revealed to her. “I have to have you now.”

With his pants gone Aelin could see how much Fenrys meant it. The sight of his cock, hard and ready, had her unconsciously arching towards him with need. Fenrys used that to his advantage, his muscled arm wrapping around her waist and hauling them up the bed. It was Aelin who pulled him in for a kiss and from there she let herself burn.

Fenrys settled on her hips, pressing their bodies as flushed together as they could be. The feel of him was incredible, the weight and heat of his body was something Aelin had absolutely missed. His hands ran over what they could—her sides, hips and thighs—anywhere he could reach without separating them. All the while his hips drove into her’s, the length of him rubbing enough delicious friction to make Aelin dizzy with need. She writhed against him, trying her best to get him to slip inside her, even trying to distract him by biting down on his bottom lip. It didn’t work, for now Fenrys was content to touch her, not surprising considering how long he’d been at sea. Aelin knew a touched starve man when she saw, and had thrown many of them out of her establishment over the years. If this is what Fenrys needed, she would gladly give it to him and surrendered.

One hand ceased its movements on her thigh, fingers digging into her flesh to pull her open just a little wider. Aelin moaned in anticipation, feeling the head of his cock at her entrance. Fenrys continued to tease her, his unoccupied hand pressing into her side and then up, his thumb taking a moment to run hypnotising circles over the side of her breast before heading upwards again. Then he pushed her arm up and extended it above her head, his hand dragging all the way up to meet Aelin’s. It wasn’t until their hands were laced together that his hips thrusted at just the right angle he slid into her. At the feel of him seated so deep Aelin’s body bowed into the sensation instinctually, trying to draw the man above her closer, deeper. It had Fenrys groaning into the skin of her neck as they both took a moment to collect themselves before he started moving.

Aelin had expected it to be hurried and desperate, this was anything but. Each roll of his hips was slow and thorough, enough to make Aelin’s breath catch but not take it away. Maybe Fenrys had the right idea, maybe after being apart for so long he was right to savour this first time. She was sure before morning came they would have time for more than enough rounds to make up for it.

“Talk to me, Princess. Let me know you’re here with me,” he nearly begged in between kisses.

“You feel so good, Fen,” Aelin told him.

“I could say the same.” The thrust that followed that admission was sharper than the others, a sure sign he was slowly unravelling.

“You know how I like it.”

“Like what?” Fenrys asked, voice edged with desperation as Aelin moaned. “How you like what, Aelin?”

He was enough of a bastard that he would taunt and take away what was currently driving her insane until she said it, and Aelin was tired of playing. “How I like to be fucked.”

At her words, the steady pace that Fenrys had set faltered, had his body shuddering. “The things you do to me.”

His hips snapped, the angle perfect. Aelin only knew she needed more. “Gods, I need you closer.”

Fenrys rolled them both, his grip on her arse keeping them intimately connected. Aelin thought he was going to stop then, but she felt one strong thigh bend behind and then he had pushed himself up so his back lent on her headboard. Aelin panted as she sat in Fenrys’ lap, savouring the feeling this position gave her. She wouldn’t last much longer, the coil in her stomach wound with each shift of their hips.

“There you go,” Fenrys said sweetly. “I’m right where you want me.”

“Yes,” Aelin whispered. “Thank you.”

The sass that came out of near delirium earned her a rumbling laugh and lingering kiss, making Aelin’s hips roll on their own accord. That undid Fenrys and he kissed her with more urgency as the hands that hadn’t moved shifted her in his lap dragged her onto him, prompting her to move like that again. Aelin did, her hands on the headboard either side of Fenrys’ head. Once she had her rhythm Fenrys let go of her, but not for long. There was a hand on her breast, the other splayed on her pack to push her closer. The man was indeed desperate for contact, only made clearer by his next request.

“Touch me, Aelin.”

She knew he didn’t mean his cock that was still inside her, there was no way in hell Aelin would be willing to with how close she was to breaking apart. Fenrys was after something softer. Her hands left the headboard, and she touched him like he wanted. Sweet caresses over his face, sweeps over his shoulders. It urged Fenrys to move his hips faster, meeting Aelin in perfect synchronisation. His lips on her neck were not what she wanted, so she angled his face to hers, kissing him fiercely. It was his heady groan on her mouth that had Aelin breaking like a wave, pleasure rushing through every nerve of her body. She nearly screamed from the force of it, they had strung it out so long that this relief was blinding and all consuming, all Aelin could do was keep moving to drag it out as long as she could.

“Fuck,” Fenrys moaned on her mouth, helping her move on him chasing his own pleasure. “Fuck me, Aelin.”

Her over sensitive inner walls felt his cock twitch and then Fenrys was groaning as he came. Aelin kept rocking, wanting to draw it out for the both of them as long as she could. It felt too good to let it fade just yet. The way Fenrys clung to her as he caught his breath was sweet, and as Aelin’s own body calmed she ran a soothing hand over his hair. He hummed contentedly, hugging Aelin tighter against him while his lips wandered aimlessly over her skin.

Aelin chuckled. “Feel better?”

“You are too good to me,” Fenrys murmured onto her skin.

For a while they just sat there, touching and waiting for the other to move. In the end it was Fenrys, kissing Aelin deeply as he lay her down before pulling out. He didn’t bother with pants and Aelin took the opportunity to admire the view. When he was gone entirely she stretched out, feeling sated but willing for more. Aelin missed him while he was away, and it wasn’t just in the bedroom, it was the conversation and companionship as well. And now that they’d had such a gratifying release of tension there was nothing to say that they couldn’t do both at the same time.

Soon enough Fenrys returned, cloth in hand, and moments later they were cleaned up and back in each other’s arms. Aelin lay on her side facing Fenrys, and he did the same, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair. She busied herself with idling tracing the scars on his chest. There were no new pale marks that marred his skin. When she ran her finger over a particularly large one low on his side Fenrys shivered.

“So I hear the Maeve and her crew have fallen into good fortune,” Aelin said.

“That would be true,” Fenrys kissed her forehead before pulling back. “Whitethorn found some maps in an abandoned cave in the Cambrian Mountains. There used to be stories of a creature in the lake that guarded them, so who knows how many years superstition won out. We’ve been more than successful.”

“Good to hear.” It was then that she noticed the blue gem stud in his earlobe. The piercing wasn’t now, Aelin hadn’t seen this earring before. She reached out to flick it. “Is that a sapphire?”

Fenrys nodded his head. “It is. Do you like it?”

Aelin shrugged, and as if she couldn’t help but be drawn to him her body inched closer. “I prefer emeralds.”

“Well,” Fenrys said, voice straining as he used his weight and a hand on her hip to urge Aelin to lie on her back. “Next time I’ll try and bring you some back. Whitethorn usually claims them all first though.”

Aelin scoffed. “Selfish bastard.”

Fenrys’ answer to that was a soft chuckle and an upward sweep of his hand over her body. Instantly Aelin's blood heated again, craving his touch and the release that would inevitably follow. Fenrys read every sign that her body was giving, propped up on an elbow as he watched her try not to writhe. His fingers had claimed the peak of her breast, teasing and pinching until it was hard. When he flicked it Aelin gasped, a hand darting out to hold him by the back of the neck. Then his mouth was on the unattended breast and Aelin gave up fighting her composure.

“You’re not ready yet,” she panted, her body bucking as need pulsed lower.

“Ah, Princess,” Fenrys said, but Aelin barely heard him. She was too focused on the hand that was travelling down her body. “That doesn’t mean we can’t have fun in the meantime.”

The only answer she could offer him was a deep moan as his thumb reached the apex of her thighs, drawing tight circles that were almost too much. Fenrys slowed down, and shifted so that both his hands and his mouth had something to do. When Aelin gasped as his fingers teased her entrance, Fenrys kissed her, his tongue sliding into her mouth. The sensations of his mouth, the hand on her breast and the other between her thighs had Aelin hurtling towards that peak of release. But Fenrys held her there right on the edge, forcing Aelin to open her eyes and look at him.

Fenrys’ dark eyes were full of so many sinful promises that there was no doubt what the rest of the evening would entail. “I made you a promise, Aelin. And I intended to keep it.”

With that declaration his fingers slipped into her, finding that spot and moments later she was unravelling and moaning her pleas to the gods. Aelin was in for a long night indeed.

Soft kisses and wandering hands woke her up the next morning. Her bedroom was barely illuminated by the morning light meaning it must be early. She usually got to sleep late into the morning due to the working hours she kept. But last night it had been Fenrys who had kept her up until the very small hours of the morning. Aelin groaned, this time not in pleasure—at least it wasn’t that way at first. When his hand brushed over her bare breast like that it was hard to maintain her indignation.

“Why are we awake?” Aelin mumbled into her pillow.

Fenrys kissed up her neck. “Still on ship's time.”

He was ready. She could feel the hardness and heat of him pressing into her back. It wasn’t a terrible way to be woken up and Aelin supposed she could sleep later. The White Stag wouldn’t open until after noon anyway. Aelin pushed back into him, but went pliant in his hands, a signal that she was willing to give him the lead this time. Fenrys all but growled, nipping at her shoulder and he urged her onto her stomach.

They were in a tangled mess of sheets and bedding, there was some manoeuvring on Fenrys’ part to free trapped limbs. Opening her eyes, Aelin found herself at the foot end of the bed. It seems they hadn’t bothered to put themselves to bed properly after their escapes the night before. Aelin had simply grabbed a pillow and fallen asleep where she was, the pillow she now tossed away as she was pressed into the mattress. Fenrys ran his hands over her body, stopping at her hips just to angle them how he wanted. The sleep haze fled, and want replaced it, causing a needy whimper to escape Aelin’s lips without her permission.

Fenrys started his trek up her body, his lips leading the way as they trailed up her spine. He brushed her knotted hair over her shoulder and continued to the newly exposed skin. Aelin could feel the heat of his body as he was braced over her now, a hand sneaking its way of the sheets to lay over one of her’s. That little gesture had Aelin smiling, remembering how demanding he had been for small affections last night. This morning was no different.

“I don’t think I’ve told you enough,” Fenrys said by her ear, making her skin pebble. “You’re stunning.”

“You don’t, I want to hear it more,” Aelin snarked back.

Fenrys snorted, making her laugh in turn. “Duly noted, Princess.”

He lined himself up, the swollen head of his cock pressing against her core. Aelin tried to push herself back to take him deeper, but Fenrys held her still, a silent demand to just wait. She did, it might have killed her a little but she did. Then Fenrys slid in with one delicious stroke. Aelin moaned the entirety of it, loving the feeling of having him inside her again.

“You are stunning,” Fenrys whispered, accentuating his words with another thrust. “Absolutely stunning.”

“Fen,” Aelin breathed. “More.”

Fenrys dropped lower, still holding most of his weight himself, and shifted so that they moved in a steady grind. It felt so good that all Aelin could do was let herself be swept away in everything he was giving.

“Stunning.” Fenrys’ breathing was getting harder, the word coming out nearly desperate.

Aelin was about to demand it harder—faster—when her bedroom door was unceremoniously thrown open, hard enough it slammed on her wall. No knocking, no nothing, there was someone else in her room. Fenrys nearly collapsed on top of her, he managed to stop himself before he crushed all the air out of her lungs. Aelin looked up, glaring and ready to spit her best obscenities at the intruder. The unexpectedness of their identity had the words catching on her tongue and her cheeks heating.

Because there, in her doorway was none other than Rowan Whitethorn.

“Shit,” Fenrys said, pushing the sheet her way so she could cover herself. He’s always been considerate like that.

Aelin was the first to recover. “I don’t remember inviting you into my home.”

Rowan ought to be commended for how intently he kept his eyes on her face. “Should have locked your door. Time to go, Moonbeam.”

“Piss off, Whitethorn.” That may have been the first time Aelin had truly heard Fenrys sound angry.

“I gave you orders,” Rowan said, arms crossing over his chest.

Aelin wished she had her pistol, or maybe the dagger in her nightstand, just something to threaten the infuriating man with. “Unless you plan to join us, get out.”

Rowan raised one of eyebrows, the tattoos on his face shifting. “You two should be so lucky.”

Gods, here they were chatting and Fenrys was still inside her.

Fenrys seemed to realise the same moment she did, discreetly separating them and using some of the messy bedding to cover himself. Keeping her eyes locked on the green ones, Aelin took a handful of sheet and held it to her chest as she slowly sat up, not caring what might or might not be covered. From the way that the cold morning air nipped at her skin, Whitethorn was getting at least a little bit of a show.

And right there, Aelin didn’t miss how his eyes finally darted down, just for one lingering moment before he spun around and marching through her living room.

“Now, Moonbeam!” He bellowed over his shoulder as hand racked through his shoulder length silver hair, making sure to slam the other door that opened to the landing as well.

There was a moment of charged silence and then Aelin giggled and fell back on the bed. Fenrys joined in, the intensity of their laughter increasing until they were both struggling to breathe. Fingers on her chin tilted her head to the side to see Fenrys’ dark eyes full of amusement.

“I am so sorry, Aelin.” His voice was still shaking.

Aelin shrugged. “I don’t suppose we could finish up?”

That sobered Fenrys up very quickly. “He’s likely to come back and drag me out naked into the street.”

“That would be quite the end to the story,” Aelin mused like she was considering it.

“You are pure trouble,” Fenrys said, tapping her nose.

Aelin laughed, taking Fenrys’ hand. “I could say the same about you.”

They both knew he had to go, but neither of them were willing to start the goodbye. In the end Fenrys got up with a heavy sigh, picked up his pants and started dressing. Aelin sat up, watching the disaster unfold in front of her. She thought they would have more time—at least today to enjoy themselves together and catch up. It wasn’t to be and it filled Aelin with a sudden feeling of loneliness.

“Hey,” Fenrys said as he tightened his belt. “I’ll be back in no time.”

Aelin nodded. “With my emerald”

With a crooked smirk Fenrys replied, “With your emerald.”

“Even if you have to fight that bastard Whitethorn for it,” Aelin pressed, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

Fenrys’ hands landed either side of her hips, one last brief moment of closeness. “For you it would be my honour.” He picked up his jacket off the floor, shrugging it onto his shoulders. Fully dressed there was nothing left to delay him and with one final kiss, Fenrys finally said goodbye. “Until next time, Princess.”

Aelin nodded, swallowing against the tightness building in her throat. Fenrys winked then left her room. It was at the final glance of him walking out the deep green door that she finally whispered, “Until next time.”

~~~~~

I know its not the usual but I had so much fun writing these two!

Tags: @fucking-winchester-trash // @literary-licorice // @galyxsy // @tangledraysofsunshine // @highqueenofelfhame // @3am-reading // @soup-that-is-too-hawt // @aelinfire-bringer // @nalgenewhore // @highladyofthesith // @http-itsrebecca // @sleep-and-books // @alifletcher2012 // @westofmoon // @sleeping-and-books // @ttakeitbacknoww // @armixers-unite // @mariamuses // @chocolate-eating-bitch-queen // @velarian-trash // @queenofxhearts // @heroesofterrasen // @highladyofstoriesandmusic // @empire-of-wildfire // @camerooonchiu // @crackedship // @lowhangingtreebranches // @over300books // @yourwhisperingshadows // @thesirenwashere // @tswaney17 // @impossiblescissorspeachpaper // @cat5313 // @judelovescardan // @flowerspringsea // @chaoticskyy // @the-regal-warrior // @fanfictrash3000 // @blueeyes425 // @starseternalnighttriumphant // @bamchickawowow // @thehuntressofmoon // @giorgia-the-trashpanda // @flora-and-fae // @thereaderandfangirl // @illyrian-bookworm // @chemicha // @meltalgel // @gay-book-nerd // @that-odd-puzzle-piece // @i-love-all-books // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato // @girl-who-reads-the-books // @hizqueen4life // @the-third-me // @1islessthan3books // @bestmelle // @cursebreaker29 // @b00kworm // @superspiritfestival // @aesthetics-11 // @maastrash // @mynewdreamwasyou // @the-last-apprentice // @charincharge // @firestarsandseneschals // @scarznstars // @absolute-dissapointment // @thesurielships // @df3ndyr // @trinitybailey2003 // @gwynethhberdara // @booknerdproblems // @larisssss // @sevenfreckles-for-sevenloves // @rolltide7 // @scandinavianromantic // @tillyrubes10 // @starwarsslytherin // @minaidss // @paytin77 // @jesstargaryenqueen // @anntheintrovert // @starbornvalkyrie // @loudphantomdragon // @woollycat22 // @claralady // @perseusannabeth // @fangirlprincess09 // @maddymelv // @sierrareads // @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx // @jlinez // @lysandra-ghost-leopard // @rowaelinismyotp // @pullnpeeltwizzlers // @anne-reads // @jadeaffliction // @gracie-rosee // @elriel4life // @rowaelinrambling // @tothestarswholistentodreamers // @thenerdandfandoms // @castielspelvis // @swankii-art-teacher // @grandma-noob-lord // @vanzetanze // @highlady-brittney // @story-scribbler // @linguine-panini // @pastasiren // @surielandiareendgame // @silentquartz // @live-the-fangirl-life // @whimsicallyreading // @goddess-aelin // @s-uppertime //

#sjmcrackshipmonth23 #fenlin #aelin x fenrys #throne of glass fanfiction #it might not be your thing but you might want to skip to the end #ohhh boy i might have created a monster here

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thesparklingwriter · 2 years ago

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𝒄𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆'𝒔 100 𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕!!

prompt: g, h, i , j | Diluc

an: me and my friend have a running joke that Diluc is emotionally constipated, so this really cemented it in my mind. Aside from that I really can't see Diluc initiating any kind of PDA except for possibly holding your hand behind the tavern counter and he's so valid for that

taglist | masterlist | event

G is for gentle…

Those who frequent Diluc’s bar would argue that he can be someone brash at times. But the minute you walk in, he changes. His face softens, his voice softer. He welcomes you in with a gentle grin. On days when he’s feeling particularly bold, or has been missing you more than he’d like to admit, he’ll softly squeeze your hand, asking how your day has been, and if everything’s okay, and whether you need him for anything. He’ll remind you to take it easy, to not overwork yourself, and lets you help out at the bar if you so wish. Provided that you don’t seem too tired, he’ll take any excuse to be around you for longer.

H is for hugs…

He won’t ever admit it—the fact he likes hugs. But for some reason, you’ve managed to figure it out. The minute he gets home, your arms are wrapped around his waist, your face buried against his chest. He chuckles softly, stroking the back of your head as he apologises for being late. And it’s not just when he gets home. Any time where you decide his waist looks particularly lonely, you’re back against him, grinning happily as you squeeze him in your arms. Once in a while, if ever he feels like he’s been deprived of you for too long, he’ll pull you to his chest wordlessly, the sound of your giddy giggles making him never want to let go.

I is for I love you…

Diluc isn't a man of very many words, and he’s aware of that, so he endeavours to make you feel loved at every opportunity given to you. When he sees you, his somewhat stern resting expression quirks into a smile, and all of a sudden–according to the patrons of his tavern—he seems much less grumpy. He wants you to know he cares, so he tries his best to show you as much as possible, even if it’s just escaping from work to spend time with you, or risking being late just for another ten minutes in bed with you. You can’t complain, because above all you feel his love. But you’d be lying if your favourite part of the day wasn’t in the morning, when Diluc is certain you’re still asleep and slips out of bed with a whispered ‘I love you' and a light kiss on your forehead.

J is for Jealousy…

Diluc tries his best to not be jealous. Whenever he comes home and you’re already fast asleep, he’s instinctively envious of all the other people in the day who’ve had the pleasure of being in your presence—-those who get to see your smile and your laugh. When he gets time off work, he chooses to spend it with you, and heaven forbid anyone try to even speak to you. He slides his hands into yours—the most obvious he’ll ever be with his affections in public. As much as he knows his heart belongs to you, and he hopes the reverse is true for you, he can’t help but feel a little hostile to the others who spend time with you so freely.

#genshin impact #genshin fluff #genshin fanfiction #genshin fanfic #genshin fan fiction #genshin fan fic #genshin #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc x reader #diluc #diluc fluff #diluc x you #diluc ragnivindr x you #diluc ragnvindr

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raineandsky · 9 months ago

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#98

“And lo! Here approaches my best knight,” the king announces to the jester as the knight squeezes through the door. The poor jester looks thankful to see her as he hurries out of the king’s gaze. “Come, show me your skill.”

The knight throws a few carefully angled swings for the king. He watches with a delighted expression, but she can see the soullessness in his eyes. Her stomach flips uncertainly.

“You are an excellent swordsman, knight,” he says flatly. “Now, tell me, why should I allow you to stay within my walls?”

The jester averts his gaze awkwardly. Is she about to get fired? “… Because I’m an excellent swordsman and your best knight,” she tries, and the king huffs in his telltale way of saying WRONG.

“Perhaps that was on me for being unspecific.” He picks up a wine glass from the golden table next to his throne, swirling it idly. “I hear you liaise with dragons.”

The knight’s attempt to keep her expression neutral fails miserably. The king watches with keen interest as her eyes widen and her mouth moves in an abysmal attempt to form some sort of defence. She’s acutely aware of the jester watching curiously too—whatever she says next will be the castle’s gossip for the next month. Maybe two if nothing of interest happens before then.

Well shit. Might as well fall into treason headfirst.

She reaches a hand into the front of her breastplate, earning a soft squeak from something inside. The king leans forward on his throne. The jester peers as close as he dares.

Her hand comes back with a short purple string laced around her fingers. Or she does at first glance, and closer inspection reveals her ribbon to be a tiny dragon, yawning and digging tiny claws into her fingers.

The king roars so loud the dragon startles. The knight and the jester don’t fare much better. “Beast!” he howls.

“Beast! Beast! Beast! Beast!” the room echoes back to them.

“You bring this creature within my walls?” he demands. “You slander my name—my rule—with your disregard to my kindness for you?”

“She’s harmless!” the knight cries over him. The dragon isn’t a fan of the racket, and is making a great effort to slip up her sleeve. “She looks after my finances.”

“Disgusting beast,” the king spits.

“The dragon,” the jester says quietly, valiantly ignoring the way the king’s stare snaps to him, “is your accountant?”

The knight fishes a coin from her pouch, gently tapping the dragon with its edge. Its gaze snaps to her gold, its past endeavour with her sleeve forgotten as it grapples for her coin. It twists its body around it excitedly, gnawing at the edge like a toddler, a quiet hum emitting from it as it does.

“That noise it is making,” the king shrieks, “it is going to attack!”

“No!” the knight shouts over him. “It’s like a cat—she’s purring. It means she’s happy.”

“Dragons do not purr,” the king retorts, but the dragon is undeniably making a noise that sounds remarkably like purring. The jester takes a cautious step closer.

The knight tucks her finger under her chin, giving it a hearty scratch. The dragon’s humming gets louder, her eyes closing blissfully at the touch.

“How does it… work?” the jester asks. The knight offers him a smile that she hopes conveys how grateful she is for his interest in the face of the king’s disgust.

“She takes my coins—my salary, my earnings, anything.” The knight adjusts her hand so the dragon sits more comfortably in her palm. She doesn’t seem to mind, too busy clamping her jaw around the gold to notice. “She keeps a hoard no one but her can find. I earned her trust, and whenever I need money she gives it to me.”

“She is a thief,” the king spits, but the rage is losing momentum in the face of such a cute little thing. The knight doesn’t miss how she’s suddenly not an ‘it’.

“I give her all the money she has. She’s just better at keeping money than most humans,” the knight says with a grin, “because she doesn’t spend it all in a tavern.”

The jester snorts. The king raises his eyebrows. Silence falls for a moment as they all watch the dragon get comfortable in the knight’s hand, her tiny body choking her coin, a claw wrapped around her thumb as she nestles in and closes her eyes.

The jester lets out a short “aww,” that’s louder than he probably intended.

“Tsch,” the king says. He leans back in his throne like he’s lost interest. “A beast is a beast. I am most displeased you were disloyal to my word, knight.”

“I apologise, your majesty,” the knight says. It’s all she can say, really. “I will fix things.”

“You… may keep the thing,” the king continues after a moment of intense deliberation. The knight attempts to not to look too surprised. The jester doesn’t even try. “But it is your accountant and nothing more. If I discover it torching my palace I will execute both it and you.”

“Accounting is what she’s best at, your majesty,” the knight says brightly. “You’ll never have to see her again.”

The king nods shortly, though his gaze is traitorously locked onto the purple ball in her hand. “I would not be adverse, knight,” the king says slowly, like he doesn’t quite want to, “if you felt it right to study. We did not know dragons purr, or like coin.”

“Your majesty?”

“Gather your resources and come back to me with knowledge of the beasts.” He waves a hand dismissively. “I will reconsider your treasonous actions if you can prove that your creature poses no threat to my rule or my people.”

A lot of questions are rattling through her brain. “Your majesty, what do—”

“That is all. Jester!” The king turns his attention away from her and back to the jester as he takes centrestage, looking a lot less stressed than before. He gives her a subtle nod and the lightest smile—a small gesture between the servants of the castle, a simple well done.

The knight leaves the hall with the king’s uproaring laughter following her. The dragon stays curled in her hand, and she runs her thumb over it carefully, the dragon’s body warm and prickly to the touch.

A knight to a scholar in one conversation. She doesn’t even know how to write.

#creative writing #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writing community #fantasci writing #fantasy writing #guess who got covid for the third fukn time #3????????? 3. 3 whole ass times #now. i know some people will not care about this. i know my coworkers sure dont #but i have seen the studies. chances of risk higher the more you get it etc etc #and on the first day i honestly felt like ASS and i still do!! ive had today off (yeehaw!) cause i feel like im dying!! (not yeehaw!)#wish me luck yall im so goddamn ill and im so goddamn mad about it #ive tried to do a lil writing through it but i aint all there in my head atm #so if i suddenly start posting the weirdest most incoherent stupid shit known to man. i wrote it with covid. sorry

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mslanna · 5 months ago

Note

Raphael reacting to being given a surprise little peck on the cheek? Just a brief and sweet little thing and the kisser is already gone before he can really do anything.

they/them Tav without body configutation soft read on AO3

Neglicence

"Here we are, at the end of everything, the final stanza." Raphael's entrance was as flamboyant as ever.

Tav regarded him with hope and a glimmer of more. The devil had practically followed them on their way to defeat the nether brain and Tav couldn't get Gale's words about their first meeting out of their head. Roses and serenades.

They had gone to make the deal on their own. No witnesses. Nobody to get dragged into their infernal folly. Slipping the Orphic Hammer into their storage at Elfsong Tavern had been easy enough. Armed with their favourite maul and Sarevok's sword in case things got dicey, nobody had questioned their decision.

Maybe keeping the importance of the Orphic Hammer from their companions was wrong. At lest they all agreed that freeing the prince was the correct decision. Tav had hoped to convince the Emperor of this before the end.

A vain hope. The bloody illithid adamantly refused to listen to a path not his. Refused to the point of rather allying with the nether brain than accepting a different approach. Tav sighed. "Here we are indeed."

The devil was elusive. Tav had refused the deal twice – on a sad hunch. But their hunch had been right. As soon as the deal was signed, Raphael vanished. That rat bastard. Yes, there was the promise of dinner, but that was not part of the deal. Tav'd believe it when it happened. So they had banked on this. Correctly. They smiled as Raphael launched into one of his monologues.

"Your deeds will be timeless. And nobody will ever know that your feeble-minded negligence almost doomed the world at the last moment." Raphael's expression mirrored his condescending but indulging tone.

For a devil, that means he likes you, Tav reminded themself as the Orphic Hammer snapped into existence between them. If he didn't like me, he'd make me pay again for the hammer. With my soul, no doubt.

"The Orphic Hammer. You misplaced it." The devil continued gleefully. "I'll make sure the bards don't hear about how this little moment of negligence almost doomed all of us." Raphael leant towards them. "After all, we're associates in this great endeavour."

Then Raphael repeated his instructions to freeing Orpheus and destroying the elder brain. That was fine, Tav liked his voice. Negligent. If that was his reading, well. Too bad. "Thank you. I had hoped for – an intervention. You devils are an elusive lot, unless one wants to avoid you, it seems."

Raphael blinked and narrowed his eyes. But Tav's thoughts had moved on already.

"Guess my faith in turning the Emperor to our cause was misplaced. Would have been nice, though." They shrugged and gazed at the githyanki prince. "Pity about him, too. But strike me down before I let any of my friends become illithid. Him? I don't know."

So his mouse was actively planning to sacrifice Gith's only son and heir for their own advantage. Raphael smiled and held out the Orphic Hammer. "Excellent reasoning."

At least it was too late for complaints now. Tav sighed, acutely aware of the devil's presence despite their absent-minded demeanour.

"Thanks." They breathed a kiss over his cheek as they took the hammer. "Time to free the prince and save the city!" Tav announced and stepped to the first crystal, blessedly ignorant of the stunned silence that fell behind them.

Even Raphael watched as Tav swung the hammer and shattered the first crystal with one strike. Under the eyes of their companions, there was no way for him to follow up on their action. Whatever went on in the head of his little mouse. It might be a lot more interesting than forgetfulness.

He vanished in a burst of hellfire, wondering vaguely if any of the companions had noticed his fingers rising up to touch the place where Tav's lips alit on his skin.

#bg3 #raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #anon answered #writing prompt #sleazy second-hand car dealer #mel writes fanfic #soft #they/them Tav

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letsdeerintheheadlightsuniverse · 9 months ago

Text

During shore leave, Izzy Hands would endeavour to find a quiet tavern, where you both could talk and have some genuine quality time together, away from the prying eyes of the crew (Lucius). Unfortunately, he chooses the one tavern that Stede also decides is the perfect place for a date with Ed. Needless to say, you and Stede end up chatting endlessly, while Ed and Izzy sit to the side...arms crossed...side-eyeing each other.

(If there was enough interest, I'd be willing to write this as a full imagine.)

#avengeofmd #avenge ofmd #ofmd season 2 #save ofmd #ofmd s2 #ofmd izzy #ofmd #izzy hands #izzy hands x reader #blurb #ed teach #the gentleman pirate #stede bonnet #blackbonnet #blackbeard

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poisonedfate · 5 months ago

Note

For writing:

13. “I lost our baby.”

Between Gwaine and Merlin in canon era 🤭

i had to cut it short since it was already almost 1k words, so it's a little...hectic :D the writing is a bit questionable itself - a rough draft at best, but i didn't want to make you wait for too long so. here goes.

send me prompts

13. “I lost our baby.”

It was one of Merlin's favourite things - quiet nights spent loudly with Gwaine. Quiet, because it was only the two of them, loud, because neither could stop laughing for more than four breaths at a time. It wasn't often that they got such time to themselves, but when they did? When they did, nothing could get in their way - not the weight or tiredness of the day nor the promise of early mornings to come.

Ever since Gwaine found out about his magic, the nights had drained of any pressure, and grown to be calmer. Merlin could be a little careless then, knowing the memories, however many of them would actually be retained the next day, were theirs to make as they pleased. Merlin was more familiar with secrets than perhaps anything else in the world, but the ones between him and Gwaine felt different - like he kept them because he wanted to and not just because he had to. There were jokes made only for them two, looks only they could understand.

He knew all of this, yet nothing could've prepared him for Gwaine stumbling into the early morning training at the last minute, a sway still somewhat permanent in his walk, rushing right over to him.

"I lost our baby," he said in a voice that could only be described as an attempted whisper.

"You what?" Merlin didn't know whether he should laugh, scream or do anything in his power to simply stop Gwaine from continuing. The quiet pounding in his head grew more annoying as the day went on and if it weren't for that, he would most likely find the situation slightly more amusing.

"Our...baby. Lost it," he repeated, quieter this time, flashing a smile over Merlin's shoulder where he could only assume Arthur and the rest of the knights were already staring at them with the curiosity of a rampant crowd.

"You need to stop calling it that before..."

"That's what we called it last night, did we not?" Gwaine looked back at him, still grinning.

"That's not-"

"So, is it a boy or a girl?" Elyan interrupted them, expression as serious as he could get it, a childish kind of joy in his eyes. Judging by Gwaine's face, neither of them had noticed the knight approach.

"Don't listen to him," Merlin replied at the same time as Gwaine said, "a girl".

He whipped his head around, giving the other his best shut up look, which only earned him a shrug in response. Before Gwaine, or any of the others, could say anything else that might put him in an early grave, Arthur, face about as judgment-filled as one might expect (with some hints of entertainment, too), decided to finally begin the training - sometimes one must be thankful for another's awful timing choices.

Only once the attention was no longer on Merlin, did he actually think about the content of Gwaine's words. He had lost....he had lost it.

Near the end of their last night's endeavours, the two of them had somehow managed to slip into a retelling of their favourite "surprising others" stories, many of them consisting of Gwaine's tavern tales and Merlin's run-ins with magical beings. One of the stories he told, however, was when Lancelot had found out about the sword forged in a dragon's breath.

"Where is it now? Still with Lancelot?" Gwaine had asked.

"What? No, it's Arthur's."

"That's worse," he replied, making Merlin laugh, his brows furrowed.

"Why's that?"

"How come he gets a cool sword and I get nothing?"

Merlin could've, of course, gone on to explain why that sword came to be, but Gwaine already knew - the same way Merlin knew the other was only (mostly) teasing now. But something about the exchange, paired with the warmth in his throat and his stomach and across the entirety of him, had made him take Gwaine's words more seriously.

"Do you want one?"

"Want wh- a sword in- in a dragon's...no, that seems like a lot of work."

"No, what I mean is something similar, something...with magic," Merlin explained with a chuckle.

Gwaine stared at him for just a brief moment before continuing:

"Alright, show me what you got then."

Merlin had asked for his dagger, asked what they should do with it. He wasn't exactly an expert at enchanting objects, but he had read some things here and there and had some slightly misplaced confidence running through him. After a couple of back-and-forths, the two of them decided to turn one of the stones adorning the scabbard into a vision of sorts. Merlin wasn't sure how long it would last, if at all, but for the time being, a tiny fire-made dragon swirled around the stone whenever Gwaine, and only Gwaine, dragged his thumb across it.

The knight had laughed then, the wonder in his eyes reminding Merlin of his own, one that had grown quieter over the years. He chuckled, called it the first of its kind, a firstborn, earning a surprised laugh from Merlin. That was what started it all then, Gwaine referring to the dagger as 'the baby'.

Merlin didn't necessarily fear the loss of it, didn't fear it being discovered and met with questions - no one would know the significance of what had been done to it. He did, however, fear the loss of a memory, an object enchanted with more than just harmless magic. So as soon as training was done and he could get away, Merlin searched for the dagger - it didn't take very long. And if he did find it under Gwaine's bed because he had fallen asleep holding it...well, no one has to know.

#don't ask #i have no answers :D #prompts #ask game

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kiatheinsomniac · 1 year ago

Text

──── 𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 ˊˎ -

☾ ⋆ ﾟ𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: a commission for @expiredale who was lovely to work with :) 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: James Kidd | Mary Read x OC 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4.1k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: MDNI, NSFW content, smut, exhibitionism, semi-public sex, fingering, oral.

The tavern is a joyous place tonight. Captain Kenway and his crew upon the Jackdaw have recently come into a significant sum of wealth – stolen from the Spanish navy – and, once repairs are done and shares dealt out, what does a pirate want more than alcohol and women?

The tavern is particularly busy with merry crewmates, many of whom have a drink in their hand and a whore on their lap who’s smiling because she knows she’s to be paid well tonight. There’s music, song, dance, cheers and (your favourite) Captain Kenway has bought a round of drinks for everyone and so the alcohol sliding down your throat is free and somehow that makes it taste all the better upon your tongue.

But your eyes aren’t on the drinking games or the dances or the little band of musicians who have come along, no, your eyes are on Mary. Well, technically your eyes are on James as your lover is all dressed up in her masculine disguise but James and Mary have only a veil-like line to separate them in your opinion. Regardless of how your lover dresses or what they call themselves, they are the keeper of your heart and that’s all that truly matters to you. James is the rough-around-the-edges gentleman who’s swept you off your feet and no woman can get his loyalty to sway no matter how desperately she tries, fruitlessly employing every act of seduction in her attempts. Mary is your secret treasure, she’s your privilege to know, to love. She’s all yours and you endeavour to remind her of how much you appreciate being trusted enough to know her for her hidden identity.

But the alcohol heating your throat and belly is quickly swaying your desires and you can’t tear your gaze from her rich, tanned skin, the scars on her face that you adore kissing, her lean but strong body. You love the way that it can give you a real challenge against her strength but also how you can pin her down if you really put your mind to it (or play dirty).

James slides a little closer to you and coils his arm around your waist as he props his chin on your shoulder and flashes you a laddish grin, alcohol as much in his breath as it is yours.

“You look bloody radiant tonight, Alice.” He bites his lip to try and quell the smile that’s stretching across his face as he reaches up to tuck a stray curl behind your ear, pausing to stroke your cheek with the backs of his calloused fingers. You smile softly at your lover’s compliment and lean in to kiss his smiling mouth.

His deft fingers are soon tangling into the very curls that he just tucked behind your ear and your lips meld together with the sweet, warm taste of alcohol upon your tongues. You feel James’ other hand reach down and squeeze your thigh, loving how soft and pillowy it is but also strong enough that he knows (from experience) that they could easily suffocate him. Sometimes he really thinks it’s the ideal way to go out when he listens to your sweet moans and whimpers as you desperately rock your hips against your lover’s face to chase down an orgasm that’ll leave you a trembling, pliant pretty mess.

James catches your bottom lip between his teeth and playfully tugs at it as his hand sneaks up your thigh. There are more than enough men and women making out around the tavern for anyone to even bat an eye at the two of you but that doesn’t stop the little sound of surprise that is torn from your throat when James’ hand creeps up past the height of your boots until his fingers ghost over the ties at the front of your trousers.

You reach down to hold his hand, slowing him down but not entirely stopping him as his tongue slides against yours and he leans down over you more. Your fingers lace through his as his hand in your hair slides to the back of your neck, holding you in place so that you’re not able to pull away until he’s had his fill of your kisses. James always kisses you in such a passionate way that it feels like a first kiss after not seeing each other for so long; they’re always new and fresh and exciting in a way you can never grow tired of.

He pulls away and casts a quick glance over his shoulder as he lets go of your hand. Everyone is either busy with their own partner, their friends or is already far too drunk to really process their surroundings. Moreover, the two of you are sitting in a sheltered little booth to the side of the tavern that the lights upon the walls and hanging from the ceiling don’t quite reach. The main source of light comes from the half-melted candle that sits in an empty rum bottle upon the table, casting a dancing, flickering glow of firelight upon the two of you.

A cheeky grin presents itself upon your lover’s face when he realises that the conditions are seemingly perfect for what he has in mind. His eyes fix upon yours as he brings his thumb and forefinger to his mouth, licking them in a way that is most certainly intended to remind you of what that tongue is capable of. Once they are covered in a thin layer of his saliva, he reaches over the table to squeeze the wick of the candle, snuffing out the flame and casting a half-darkness over the booth you’re sitting in.

“James, you’re not…” You bite your lip and you’re unsure whether it’s out of nervousness or anticipation. Are you against this? You’re not sure. You look around the tavern and observe the same sights that your lover did. Distracted customers and low light. Your eyes find James’ beautiful, scarred face one more – the same face that belongs to Mary. No one would notice, surely? And wouldn’t it be exciting to indulge in such pleasures while those around you remain unaware? You bite your lip and it makes James grin as he can tell you’re already fantasising about the things the two of you might be able to get away with.

“Come on, lass.” He slides a little closer to you until your legs are pressed against each other. One of his palms presses to the seat on the other side of you, making it easy for him to lean down over you and keep you close, preventing you from shuffling away. “We probably won’t even be the only ones doing this… I can tell you want to.” He tries to convince you with another series of slow and sensual kisses. A little triumphant grin paints his face when he feels your hands curl into the collar of his coat and pull him closer. You want this but he’s going to make you need it.

Deft fingers undo the top buttons of your shirt to expose the tawny skin of your chest. His lips map rivers across your throat and collar while calloused fingertips caress the softness of the tops of your breasts.

“Tilt your head back for me…” He murmurs seductively and lets out a little groan of approval when you do just as instructed. “Atta girl, Alice~” You puff out a breath at his words. James’ voice has always been a weakness of yours, ever since his first words to you. He’s got a lilt that you could listen to for hours on end without a break. He speaks lowly in your ear and it’s like velvety honey wine pouring into your senses, intoxicating you with its warm burn.

Your fingers comb through the top of his hair — mindful to not move the bandana that will reveal how long it truly is — as his lips trail down to the tender flesh of your breasts. Your line of sight breaks from him in order to skim over all the other customers of the tavern; nothing has changed. They’re all too preoccupied with their own entertainment and affairs to have noticed James and yourself.

Sure that neither of you will be noticed, your hand cradles your lover’s head to your chest in order to encourage him to not stop. His fingers walk down over your soft belly to find the ties of your trousers once more, tugging and winding his fingers around the string in order to loosen it and pull it open. Slowly, you slide your thighs apart beneath the table in order to make room for him, to invite him. You lean back in your little seat in the booth just slightly, back leaning into the rest behind you.

James’ lips return to your collar and then rise to that soft spot just beneath your ear where he applies an extra amount of attention, letting out pleased little hums at the taste of your skin being nipped by his teeth. His breath comes out in hot puffs against the little wet spots his tongue leaves against your sensitive flesh, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. He moans quietly in your ear as his hand finally begins to slip into your undone trousers, pausing to nibble on your earlobe and suckle softly on it for a moment before speaking in a seductive, gravelly whisper.

“You’re going to have to stay quiet for me now, alright?” You reply with a nod of your head and he kisses your cheek once. His fingers glide down, avoiding your clit for now and delve between your folds that are already becoming puffy with arousal. “Oh, Alice, so wet for me already.” He muses and you can tell that he knows all too well of the effect his voice is having on you.

He thoroughly wets the pads of his fingers in your sticky arousal and drags it through your slit, covering you with it. He lets out a low little chuckle when your body gives a little jolt at the sudden pleasure of his fingers smearing your wetness over your clit and then pushing down with just the right amount of pressure. “Be still now, we don’t want people to see, do we?” He says with an abundance of amusement in his voice.

“N-no…” You agree and steal a glance around the tavern again. Everyone is still too busy doing their own thing to have noticed that James’ hand is now down the front of your pants and his fingers are rubbing little stars into your sensitive clit, smearing your sticky wetness over it so that his skin can slide sticky against yours to bring you pleasure.

James keeps an eye out for your body language, your reactions that tell him what’s going through both your body and your head. Your one hand is gripping onto James’ leg while the other has curled into a fist on the table, nails biting into your palm as you breathe heavily through your nose, teeth sinking into the tender flesh of your lower lip in order to make it easier to muffle all of your noises.

You suck in a hissed breath through those teeth when James’ fingers slide downwards and prod exploringly at your hole before slowly pushing just the tip of his finger in and then back out again; in and out, in and out. He does this over and over until a needy little whine bubbles out of your throat. That’s exactly what James had been waiting for and he then sinks the entirety of his finger into your warm, wet entrance. He delights in the shaky little sigh of relief you let out when you believe he is finished with his teasing. But he has misled you because he soon withdraws his middle finger entirely and instead slips his ring finger into you and then pulls it all the way out again.

You tug a little at his clothes in protest of the way he’s teasing you with touches that just aren’t long enough to bring you real pleasure, instead giving you a small sample of what is to come though you know not for how long you will be made to wait for the real thing. Though, this is exactly the reaction he wanted from you and now that he’s got it, he sinks both fingers into your needy pussy. You lean forwards to rest your forehead on his shoulder, wanting to hide your pleasured expression and the way your breath is now coming out in puffed little pants from anyone who might look your way and suspect that something inappropriate is taking place between the couple sat in the dim little booth off at the side of the tavern.

“Keep your head up now, Alice.” James’ voice drawls out by your ear as you sink your teeth into your trembling bottom lip in a desperate attempt to not let any lewd sound spill from your mouth. He nudges your forehead a little with his shoulder but you get let out the quietest little whine, not yet feeling composed enough to raise your head. Your lover lets out an exaggerated sigh that’s thick with the melody of disappointment mere moments before you feel his fingers glide all the way out of your walls that are squeezing down around them. A sharp gasp is torn from your throat and you suddenly sit upright, spine straight and trying to casually lean your head back against the backrest of the booth seat.

You grit your teeth in an attempt to try and collect yourself, to make it seem like nothing is amiss between the two of you. The thought that you might get caught excited you, yes, but you had a deep feeling in your gut that you would be completely and utterly mortified if anyone found out that James was working on bringing you to orgasm in such a public place.

At your sudden obedience to follow his instructions and act casually to avoid rousing any suspicion, James rewards you by burying his fingers into you once more but this time he curls them upwards to press into that particularly soft spot that has your toes curling in your boots and your spine arching just a little more. You swallow thickly and do your utmost to contain all the noises that you want to let out in order to spur him on.

James begins to thrust his fingers in and out of you, curling them up to press and glide over that sweet spot of yours simultaneously. Your walls begin to pulse and squeeze around him as you approach your orgasm and you almost let out a cry of protest when all of a sudden, he withdraws from you completely.

He holds his hand up like it’s some fine prize, spreading his fingers apart to watch your wetness sticklily stretch between them like the tracks of a spider’s web. His tongue curls between his fingers to lap it all up while his hazel eyes remain fixed upon your own dark ones as he laps his hand clean of your arousal. You feel hypnotised as you watch the little erotic spectacle that he’s putting on for you. You open your mouth to protest that he just stopped right when-

“Not here.” He says, already knowing what you’re about to say. “I want to hear you calling out my name when you cum.” He leans forwards and presses his scarred lips to yours, giving you a taste of yourself upon them. While he’s leaned in, he comes even closer so that his cheek brushes against yours and his breath tickles your ear. “My real name.”

You’re left to tie up your bottoms again as James stands up and leaves the table to start saying his goodbyes to all of his friends and acquaintances. You shuffle your way out of the booth and stand on your feet as you watch him go around and say his goodbyes. You walk across the floor to join him, dodging around customers and tables. You can feel the stickiness of your panties sliding against your puffy pussy – a reminder of the orgasm that was just torn from your grasp – with every step you take. You hold onto James’ arm to join him as the two of you politely say goodbye and then head out in order to return to the inn that you’ve rented for the night.

The moment that the door shuts behind the two of you and you’ve slid the bolt across to lock it, James is shrugging off his coat and letting her hair down from the bandanna that’s been tying it up. You watch as she crosses the room to briefly check that her hair isn’t too messy before she picks up a tube of red lipstick which she paints onto her mouth and blends out with her thumb in order to give her lips a brightly blushing tint. She casts a glance at you over the mirror as she sits upon the little stool that’s in front of the vanity with its mirror that’s cracked on one side.

You look upon Mary who has the same face as James and you just soak in the sight for a few moments that seem to stretch on for millennia. So few people in the world know that this incredible woman who is sitting in front of you exists. You are one of the lucky individuals who is privileged enough to meet her and blessed by some divine being to be able to love her.

You’re broken out of your little trance when she raises her hand and beckons you over with the very fingers that were inside of you no less than ten minutes ago. You walk up to her as she spreads her legs to make room for you, her hands landing on your soft hips and then roaming downwards to squeeze your thighs. They’re deceivingly soft but she knows that there’s a layer of muscle beneath that’s far more powerful than you look for your short stature, your head only just reaching beneath Mary’s chin when you stand side-by-side. Her hands begin to push you downwards until you’re kneeling at her feet and her fingers comb gently through the voluminous curls of your hair, her fingers dancing upon the curve of your cheek for a moment before she starts to toe off her boots as she leans down to kiss you, fingertips brushing just beneath your chin and tickling you slightly.

Her hands glide over your throat to your collar, skimming down your arms until she’s taking your hands into hers and guiding them to her belt. “You’re going to earn what you missed out on earlier, aren’t you?” She murmurs thickly, her voice pouring into your ears like molten gold. Entranced by your love for her, you nod your head as you begin stripping down her lower half. She pets your head in a praising manner, encouraging and rewarding you silently.

You could swear that she’s a siren. Her voice simultaneously dulls your senses and electrifies them all at once and she knows it. She enchants you with her words, enraptures you with her hushed and seductive tones. Her voice holds more power over you than any blade and she’s all too aware of it.

You tug off the final layer of the clothing on her lower half that acts like a barrier between you and her pussy that you’re more than eager to bury your face into in order to truly start off your night together. But first, you glance up at her, waiting for her approval. Her hand slides to the back of your neck, smoothing over those curls of yours that she loves so much, and she gives a single nod of her head as she parts her legs a little more and leans back on the stool so that her back bumps against the edge of the vanity table and her cunt is brought closer to the end of the stool, granting you easier access.

You lean forwards and dive in, burrowing your tongue straight into her glistening entrance and moaning softly at the taste of her. You push your face even closer to her when you start smothering her puffy slit in kisses and giving little kitten licks right up through her slit until you reach her clit. You press your tongue against it with a little more pressure, rolling over it a few times before you part your lips a little more. Drool spills from your mouth and onto her pussy in the few moments before you wrap your lips around her clit and suckle down; softly at first and then with more intensity as you hear Mary suck in hissed breaths and groan above you.

You feel her hands comb gently through your thick hair, pulling it all back away from your face in order to keep it out of your way. Her other hand stays put on the back of your neck and her nails scratch over your nape just slightly. It’s enough to send fierce waves of pleasure down your spine and you lift up one of her thighs to place over your shoulder. It’s easier to hold her open like this and you just adore feeling the warmth of her inner thigh pressed to your ear and cheek. You moan around her clit in order for her to feel the vibrations of it through such a sensitive part of her and you feel the way her body gives a little jolt in response, hips pushing towards you as her leg jostles on your shoulder and the hand upon the back of your neck pulls you even closer.

You don’t shy away from making lewd noises with your tongue as you lick at her. Your mouth slides down a little so that your nose now nudges at her clit while your tongue slides in and out of her hole, lapping up all of her essence and letting her hear the scandalous slurping noises you make as you try to taste as much of it as possible. You adore being between Mary’s legs like this and getting to hear that voice you love so much hiss and groan and sigh out your name, words of praise to spur you on. You reach back with your free hand in order to encourage her fingers in your hair to tangle and tug just enough to show you just how good she’s feeling. Once she follows your silent plea, you then bring that hand back down as your mouth returns to drooling all over her clit so that you can easily slide two fingers into her pussy. You moan quietly against her sensitive bundle of nerves, sending waves of pleasure through her, at the sensation of just how soft and warm she is filling you with delight.

You’re more than sure that your panties are utterly ruined by now and your wet patch might even be showing through your pants but you can’t find the space in your head to care about those things when Mary’s other thigh comes to rest upon your other shoulder and you feel her calves cross behind you. The heels of her feet dig into your lower back as her fingers tug more insistently at your hair and her hips keen towards you as her back arches, rising up from where she had been leaning upon the edge of the vanity.

You want to toss her straight to the throes of pleasure and so you waste no time in curling your fingers up to press down on that sensitive, spongy spot inside of her while thrusting in and out at such a rapid pace that you know you wouldn’t be able to keep it up if she weren’t already so close to cumming.

You hear her pant and moan out your name as she pushes your face into her pussy, rocking her hips against you and using you as she loses herself in the intensity of the orgasm that you give her. Her lips then press together as she breathes in a heavy staccato through her nose and lets out a long groan of your name. There’s a slight quiver in her thighs just before she lets you go. She cups your face in her hands to tilt your head up, seeing how the lower half of your visage glistens with her wetness and cum. Without hesitation, she swoops down to kiss you, tongue gliding messily and passionately against yours, unfazed by the taste of herself upon you. She pulls away and bites her lip as she looks down upon you, seemingly drinking in the sight of you, a laddish smirk tugging at her smeared and red-painted lips.

“Oh, the things I plan on doing to you, my lass…”

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