#It's supposed to be a crystal texture on his hair

[tigibopper]

Grabs the Corokia/Splatoon fandom again-

Hear me out, Jewel Enope Inkfall.

[edenalieth]

Tricked

Pairing: pixy! Hyunjin x afab reader — read part.2

Genre: faery!au, based on « the cruel prince » universe, smut, slight of fluff and angst

Warnings: he’s short tempered, knife, unprotected sex (be careful!), oral sex female receiving

Words count: 4.2K

Summary: Your eyes couldn’t stop looking at him, your heartbeat was getting quicker, your palms were getting moist. It was the way his jet black hair were tied and contrasting with his porcelain skin, the way his pearl earring was lazily hanging on his pointy ear, the way his shirt was letting you peak at his collarbones and the hem of his chest. Hyunjin was your secret sin, and you were his. Both uncontrollably attracted to each other, almost as much as you despised his nature and him yours.

A.N: hi! I'm back with a new little story :) geez, I really post once every blue moon... as usual, sorry for the possible mistakes and comments/share are always very appreciated. hope you enjoy ♡ – cami, 230619

He was furious. He could feel his blood boiling under his skin, his knuckles getting white around the silver knife he was holding. How could this even happen ? Servants were supposed to be irreproachable but, despite this obvious fact, his cape was ruined. The green texture of pease pudding was splattered all over the dark velvet. It was his favorite one, a deep blue fabric which looked like a night sky, with little crystals embroidered on the shoulders and bottom. 

Anger still filling his veins, he threw the cutlery on the table. His family and guests were looking at him, some were amused, some were not. His reputation preceded him, he was so full of himself and hated being wronged or humiliated in any kind of way. He wasn’t always like this but Elfhame was a cruel world where cruel people could live peacefully. And he had to keep that mask on. 

Getting up quickly, he grabbed the poor servant shirt by the hem. Plunging his eyes in his, his iris not showing an ounce of compassion. 

« You know that I could slit your throat for that, right ? » Hyunjin said with such a cold voice that the servant started to shiver. He let his left hand slide along his side to find what he was looking for: his dagger. 

« Enough ! ». The low voice resonated against the stone walls of the dinning room. Hyunjin stopped his move, pushed back the blade into its sheath as a grimace of disgust and anger was distorting his face. He scoffed while releasing the man. The young pixy couldn’t go against his father’s authority, especially in front of guests. He would be a dishonor for his own family. Annoyed, he gestured to an other servant to come. The girl quickly executed the order and asked « Yes, my lord ? ». The dark haired boy removed his cape and throw it in her hands. « Clean the mess this incompetent just caused ». His mother was looking at him, visibly worried. It would be a lie if Hyunjin said he didn’t think of beating the man up and go against his father’s will. Some guests would enjoy the show, he could tell just by looking at the elf waving her fan with a mischievous smile on her lips, or that gobelin whispering something to the man next to him. No. He would get his revenge sooner or later and now wasn’t the time. He needed some fresh air more than anything. 

« Dear guests, my apologies but I think I will finish this in my room », Hyunjin grabbed one fae fruit, briefly bowed and went toward the wooden ornate door. The crowd was already whispering and laughing at his behavior and the scene they had just witnessed. He would hear about that later today, his father would probably give him a lesson but he didn’t care anymore. His temper had caused a lot of problems already and he wasn’t going to stop now. The guards opened the door and he headed towards his apartment. 

His steps echoed on the floor which was a real piece of art. Lapis lazuli and black marble, representing the colors of his family, were skillfully mixed creating a contrast with the pale stone walls and the blue shaded stained-glass windows. Definitely a fairy tale like place. However, no matter how beautiful, comfortable or rare the furnitures could be it didn’t satisfied him the way the outside did. Reaching his room, he directly walked to his bookcase and grasped one specific book, opening the secret door behind it. That was his way to escape the manor discreetly and Nature knows how many times he would use it. Not bothering to wear an other cape, he got rid of his leather boots and left with the fruit still in his hand. 

Soon the rough ground of the hidden passage was replaced by the soft sensation of grass under his feet. He hummed peacefully as his papery wings softly vibrated in contentment. Maybe the day wouldn’t be so bad after all. He wandered around the wood as his soul unconsciously led him to his favorite place. It was a small clearing near the lake, to get access to it you had to go through a skimpy path, surrounded by bushes and brambles. Hyunjin had to be careful of his wings, he didn’t want them to get scratched or worse… When he finally got out of here, he was met by a stranger. 

Blankets were scattered on the grass, fruits and wine near by, a diaphanous dress covering your bare skin. You were laying on your stomach, a book in one hand, grappes on the other as you quickly looked at the intruder. He seemed just as surprised as you were. There was no mistaking on who the stranger was. Those long dark hair tied with a silky ribbon, the pearl dangling on his ear, the jewelry on his delicate fingers and his iridescent dark blue wings. It was none other than Hwang Hyunjin. 

Anger started to fill his system for the second time this day. How did you even know about this place ? It was his haven and you were unwelcome in it. His wings started to vibrate, unable to control his feelings. He knew who you were, the new girl. Difficult to miss such an event. Y/N, the girl of the west lands, part of the untamed nation until your family made an agreement with King Cardan and Queen Jude. The queen and you had a pretty similar story, you were a clay girl as well, living with fairies thanks to your dad. Yet, no magic was running in your blood, you were a bastard and not a rightful being of this land. And gosh, Hyunjin despised humans. So weak, stupid and useless. They were like mere insects he could crush under his boots. At least, he could have done that before Jude Duarte became Elfhame’s queen. Nowadays, the few humans living here were respected or, at least, no harm was made to them. Still, who could blame him if he was a bit playing with you… As a mischievous plan was blooming in his mind, you put yourself back up, still sitting on the blankets. 

« What a surprise to see you here, girl of clay ! » Hyunjin first spoke, his voice being soft despite his agitated wings. « It’s a shared feeling Hyunjin. » you replied, not letting your guard down. You knew about him and his anger issues just as you knew about fae and their cruelty. « Can I join you ? » He suddenly asked, a little smile on his face. You nodded, gesturing him to take the spot next to you. He sat with no hesitation. As the silence was becoming louder and louder as seconds passed by, you took back your book. The boy was good at faking his nonchalance but not as good as he thought he was. Side eyeing him discreetly, you could see his fingers fidgeting on the fabric of the blankets. You weren’t sure if you would be able to deal with this awkward situation any longer but you didn’t want to give up this place and let him think that he had won. You were tired of all those arrogant people looking down on you when you were crossing their path. Of course, nobody would harm you in broad daylight but, who knows, accidents can happen anytime at Elfhame… And Hyunjin was probably plotting something. 

As if you had called for it, the dark haired boy suddenly broke the silence. « This is my favorite place. », his voice was calm, imprinted with some peace you had never noticed before as he was looking at the silver shine of the lake. « Yes, it’s pretty pleasant around here. » you replied, putting your book aside for the second time today. « I thought I was the only one knowing about here. Apparently, I was wrong… And, you know what’s unpleasant ? Your presence here. » he added, his dark eyes staring at you, his body creeping towards you, like a feline getting ready to hunt his prey. You frowned at his words, silently challenging each other. Gosh, his siren eyes were intimidating and you could understand why people were kind of scared of him. Despite the danger emanating from him, you wanted to smack his beautiful face but his family had more power than yours. It would be to risky to do so. 

You were brave for a mortal and Hyunjin could feel the adrenaline running through his veins. He had never been this close to you and the proximity of your face, your lips, your curves, the tension… It was appealing to him. Oh, the pixy looked at you more often than he would admit it. Yes, you were the new girl, but it wasn’t so uncommon to see humans around here nowadays and people didn’t pay the extra attention Hyunjin had towards you. He wanted to deny his attraction, he couldn’t fall this low and belittle himself, even after all those weeks of getting mixed feelings every time you were sharing the same space. But, right now, right here, hidden from the real world… He thought it would be nice to play with you. Using the tone on you, that special voice fairies were using to bewitch people of clay, would be easy, even a three years old kid could do this. He came closer and closer, until his fingers were brushing against yours, a mischievous smile floating on his plump lips. 

The moving reflects of water dancing on his face, the frail sound of wave lapping on the shore as his gaze was becoming flirty and playful. Your eyes couldn’t stop looking at him, your heartbeat was getting quicker, your palms were getting moist. It was the way his jet black hair were tied and contrasting with his porcelain skin, the way his dark blue wings were similar to the most precious sapphires, the way his pearl earring was lazily hanging on his pointy ear or the way his shirt was letting you peak at his collarbones and the hem of his chest. Hyunjin was your secret sin, and you were his. Both uncontrollably attracted to each other, almost as much as you despised his nature and him yours. You could feel his breath on your bare shoulders, suddenly full conscious of how see through your dress was, seen the lustful look the boy was giving to you. 

You were a beautiful creature, almost as if you weren’t totally human. Not thinking too much about these weird thoughts and getting impatient, he decided that it was time to hunt. « Why don’t we turn your presence into something worthy, shall we ? » he whispered before casting a spell on you, « I’m starving, I couldn’t properly eat today… Feed me. » he ordered, going back to rest on his forearms, his wings framing his body like a halo. Your eyes went momentally blank, proving that the spell was working, as you took some of the grappes. Grabbing one, you delicately put in on his opened mouth as he kept looking at every single gesture you made. « More. » You diligently executed his wish until he had enough. He made you massage his shoulders, dance on the grass, your clothe twirling around you as if it was made of mist, making you almost fall as he was laughing to the point his stomach hurt. He was enjoying this a lot. Despite the entertainment, he knew what he wanted the most. « Ok, let’s stop a little » he said still giggling. « You must be sweating, right ? Why don’t you refresh yourself and go on the lake ? ». You paused and he thought for a second that the magic wasn’t working until you grasped your skirt and walked in the water. He followed you, not wanting to miss a single second of the show. Watching you from the shore, he admired the diaphanous fabric dancing around your body. You looked like a nymph, leaving him speechless. « Do you enjoy this ? » his voice was less confident and his blood was rushing down there. « Yes, Hyunjin. I love it » you replied, a beautiful candid smile illuminating your face. His breath was becoming heavy as you were lazing around the water and his desire was taking the lead on his reason. « Enough. Come join me on the blankets ». Obedient, you got out. Your dress was totally useless at this point. It seemed heavier, as water was dripping all over your curves, and the fabric was sticking onto your skin. He could see everything, to the small moles adorning your thighs, to your nipples perking up. He wanted to touch you badly, to let his wildest fantasies come to live after restraining them for weeks. He took your hand in his, leading you as he was once again laying down. You were on top of him, his shirt getting wet in the process but he didn’t care. His expression was more serious, his wings weren’t the buzzing mess they were earlier. You looked at him, waiting for him to speak and tell you your next mission. He caressed your face with the back of his hand, brushing his thumb against your kissable lips. Soft and warm. « Y/N. Kiss me. » Did he just told you that ? He had to get a grip on himself, what was wrong with him ? As you were coming closer, he realized how wrong it was. He had to stop all of this and go back to the manor. Now. However… Just one kiss wouldn’t be bad, right ? He would make you forget all this buffoonery with another spell and would never talk to you ever again. He promised himself. Closing his eyes to enjoy the first and last time he would kiss you, he didn’t notice the mocking smile on your face. 

How naive the pixy had been. Fae people were dangerous and cruel but, apparently, the mix of an elf and a human was worse… At first, you thought he just wanted to make a fool out of you. You would let him play a little before giving him a lesson he would remember. Yet, when you noticed the desire in his eyes, looking at your wet clothed body, which built up a fire inside you. And he had fallen for your little role-play. Honestly, you couldn’t blame him. People always thought you were a simple girl and not a half-blooded one and it came with some advantages. It was true, you couldn’t use magic but you were immune to it, you didn’t age like humans and you could lie, something a lot of people were extremely jealous of. Yes. The tone was inefficient on you and the black haired boy was about to know that real soon. 

His eyes still closed, he wondered what was taking you so long. He finally looked at you. You were straddling him, the water from your body soaking his clothes, holding back your laughter because of his confused expression. « Wha-what are you doing ? I asked you something, do it! ». Anger was creeping back, his fist clenched as he was trying to get up. You wondered if his angry face wasn’t even prettier than his usual arrogant one. « Say please ? » you teasingly said. « Excuse m- » 

You made him shut his mouth with your hand and leaned closer. He was furious right now, his wings started to buzz as if a swarm of bees was attacking you. « Behave. I told you to say « please », is it that difficult for someone like you ? You’re used to have everything on a silver plate, I guess. » you scoffed, staring at his dark pupils. He seemed a bit relaxed, when you felt his hand sliding along his waist, looking for his dagger, only to be met by the emptiness of his sheath. 

« Is it what you’re looking for ? » you asked, falsely innocent. You waved the beautiful silvermithery before his wide opened eyes. When did you ?… As soon as you removed your hand, he tried to push you and get his weapon back. Unfortunately, too slowly. You put the blade under his chin, the sharp knife almost wounding his immaculate throat. « You tricked me ! » he screamed, helpless. « You were the one trying to lure me into your trap ! » you defended yourself. He smashed the ground with his fist. You were right and he hated it. « Let me go. » But you didn’t move. « Let me go or I will go to the royal court and complain about your threatening behavior! You will spend the rest of your life in some deserted lands! ». You laughed. He continued his tirade. « And why did the spell failed ? What are you ? ». Your smile quickly faded. «  I’m a half-blooded. My mother is also half-blooded. She’s half human, half elf. And so am I. That’s why it’s not noticeable at first sight, you have to know me for that. ». He was visibly surprised and was scanning every parts of your body. He could see it now. The slightly pointy ears, the purple shade circling your pupil and your skin looked perfect while basic human’s one was more… dull ? Damn it. He had been stupid. He sighed. « What do you want half-blood ? ». 

« I want the same thing as you do. » Not giving him the time to reply, you closed the gap between his lips and yours, kissing him passionately. He tried to resist but gave up easily. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulled you against his body. He was loosing his damn mind. Intoxicated by your smell, the way your tongue was playfully licking his lips or how your free hands was running down his torso. One thing was still bothering him. The dagger. « Y/N, could you please put this away ? ». He put one of his finger on the blade, pleading. You were hesitant, judging the plus and minus. « I promise I will not hurt you or run away. Please. » He was almost begging, needing to kiss you more, to be free to touch you. Fae couldn’t lie, it was the rule. You obediently granted his wish, not breaking your eye contact. As soon as you did, he sat up not bothering about the fact that you were still on his lap. You felt his hands sliding under your dress to help you remove it. You didn’t protest and let him do so. 

The full view was even prettier. Your naked body was like a painting to him. Masterpieces weren’t meant to be touched, but you were the exception and he let his hands run down your curves, making you shiver. He couldn’t wait any longer as he attached his lips to your nipple, sucking on it desperately, his tongue twirling around it, his hands resting on your ass. You moaned while pulling onto his ribbon to untie it and grab his long silky hair. The sensation was amazing and you started to hump on his still clothed bottom, his boner growing under your core. He pulled away from your sensitive breast to cup your face and kiss you more. His hips started to move in harmony with yours but he wanted to have your skin against his. Quickly unbuttoning his shirt to get rid of it while your fingers were working on his pants, he soon ended up in his birth suit. Crouching back on his lap, you wrapped your fingers around his member and started to move up and down. He whimpered as you were variating the pace of your strokes, your thumb caressing the tip of his dick, already glittering with precum. He had never been touched like that. It wasn’t his first time and faeries loved to devote themselves to drinking session and fuckery but it was only that, no feelings involved, just some bestial instincts. It felt different with you. By the way you were looking at him and his body, your delicate gesture, this intimate place only the two of you knew about. Who would have thought you would be this soft when you threatened him just few minutes ago. Wanting to relieve his blooming feelings, he grabbed your waist and made you roll on your back, taking the lead this time. Spreading your legs to expose your bare core, he slid his fingers along your slit. You were dripping wet and wanted to get more. « Touch me » you begged. He smirked. « You didn’t need to ask ». You felt his middle finger rubbing your clit before entering your vagina. He kept playing with both of it while your walls were getting tighter, your fingers digging into the skin of his back to feel his chest against yours but still being careful of his papery wings. « I want to make one with you » he whispered to your ear, sending electricity through your veins. « Please Hyunjin ». Hearing you saying his name in such a sinful way felt like the sparkle which lit up the fire. His wings were vibrating softly and it turned him on even more when you caressed the part where they were meeting his shoulders. He positioned himself, grinding against you to lubricate his penis with your fluids. He looked at you, waiting for your consent. You nodded, cupping his beautiful face with your hands as he gave you his signature siren gaze. Penetrating you gently, you let out a soft moan quickly muffled by his plump lips kissing you. His hips were working faster, your tongues dancing together into a slippery kiss while your legs were hanging around his waist. The pace was changing, giving you more sensations, feeling his full length hitting your G spot. He broke your kiss just to give you some more on your jawline, neck and collarbones, eager to hear you whine under his touch. And you didn’t disappoint. He could feel your walls ready to clench around his member but he didn’t want to end it yet. At your surprise, he removed himself. « What are you doing ? » you complained, breathless. « Trust me » was his only answer. He intertwined his fingers with yours and made a trail of kisses along your body, going further down until his mouth was on your venus. He gave a first lick to it, tasting you fully. His tongue was dangerously working on your clit, sometimes giving some kitten lick, sometimes using it all. It was totally new to you and you weren’t sure you would be able to take it any longer. « Hyunjin… » you said in a breath. Your legs were starting to shake lightly and you looked at him in despair. You were met by his almond eyes, enjoying the view you were offering him. It was such a sinful yet dreamy scene. That’s when you felt it, the wave of pleasure rushing inside of you, making your legs quiver uncontrollably and moan a mantra of his name. He detached his lips from your sex, giving you some time to take your breath.  His chin was glimmering with your juices and you wondered how you tasted like… « My turn ? » he said with a smirk. « You didn’t need to ask. » He giggled as you answered in the exact same way he did before. 

You softly pushed him on his back, to be able to ride him comfortably. As you positioned yourself and started to move on his dick, he placed his hands on the small of your back to help you keep your balance. A moaning mess, this is what you were reduced to. Hyunjin felt dizzy under your touch and the way his cock was perfectly fitting inside of you, as if you were meant to be, drove him to the edge. It was also your gaze, strangely full of something pretty close to love, your delicate hands running through his hair or touching his chest. Despite your still sensitive bud, you could feel a second wave of orgasm coming for you and he could feel it too. Your walls were getting tighter, making it difficult for him to slide easily inside of you, clenching his length in the most delicious way. Sitting for you to get him fully, he gave few more hip thrust before reaching his climax, shaking between your arms as his face was resting on your breast. Soon you were met by yours and stayed like this, connected for a bit, both panting while his semen was dripping down your thighs. He looked up towards you, a soft smile on his face, his eyes looking like little crescent moons. You gave him a peck on his forehead before he spoke. « Y/N… I’m dying of heat… Should we go take a swim ? » You giggled but happily agreed. Holding your hand he led you into the water, not letting you go. « Did I make my presence worthy of your time, Lord Hwang Hyunjin ? » you teased him, cupping his face with your hands. « More than worthy, half-blood. Let’s meet again… Hmm… Tomorrow ? » He pressed his lips against yours, water refreshing your overheated bodies. « It would be my pleasure. »

[intheghoulden]

i have writers block so here's my description of how the ghouls look in my head

(they look very different from most people's canon bc i really don't like taking inspo from their unmasked counterparts :])

Rain: dark wavy hair, brushing just against his shoulders. it's long enough to tie back, but there are a few pieces framing his face that are shorter. he has a few beauty marks (that mountain is obsessed with kissing) and wire frame glasses (that he makes mountain clean for him). his face is clean shaven and he has several ear piercings. his teeth are sharp like a sharks. his horns are uneven, the left one longer than his right. they're both a deep blue

Mountain: long straight brunet hair, messy and unkempt if someone doesn't do it for him. his face is permanently sunkissed from how much time he spends outside, and his face is covered in freckles. he's supposed to have glasses, but he hates wearing them. he's covered in bruises from running into things. his horns are remarkably similar to that of a deer, covered in velvet and shedding during the off season.

Dewdrop: short, curly ginger hair with black tips. his eyes are two different colours, one red and the other blue. he has a light spattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks that shimmer like embers when his emotions are high. he has a cleft lip, making his smile endearingly crooked. his horns are short spikes, white like ash.

Aether: slicked back silver hair, like the prequelle masks. he is fat and tall, towering over most of his peers. this is contrasted by his gentle and cheerful demeanor. his jaw is scruffy, several days overgrown but not quite a beard. his cheeks and forehead have several acne scars from his teenage years. he has many piercings on his face; eyebrow, septum, snake bites, tongue. his canines are long and sometimes peek from under his lip. his horns swoop backwards and are a crystal texture, purple in hue like amethyst.

Phantom: gangly, lanky weirdo. he has a tooth gap and the rest of his teeth are crooked, and it is so so adorable. his hair is short and fluffy, a dark purple with white speckles. he has white freckles across his face. he has a lot of piercings, some connected to each other with chains, others hanging. it looks like stars and constellations. his horns curved backward horizontally, becoming a sort of halo. they're white and pearlescent.

Swiss: his hair is uncontained and curly most of the time. its not quite coily, just loose enough to bounce if you pull it, but coily enough to be tied back in braids. his eyes are a bright, almost glowing, orange. he has eyebrow and nose piercings, all gold, and he has gauges. his horns are tall and long, sticking straight up from his forehead. they're red like hot iron.

Cirrus: tall and muscular with a firey personality to match. her hair is long and a dark grey, although its often tied up in a ponytail, revealing an undercut. her eyes are a stormy grey. she has some vitiligo, although it's only visible if she's been out in the sun for a while, the tanned skin revealing the lighter areas. her horns curve along the top of her head, smooth and glass like.

Cumulus: short curly hair to her shoulders, a blinding white. her eyes are red, almost violet, due to albinism. she short and fat, and she's so fucking hot for it. i can't put into words how beautiful she is, almost goddess like. all the other ghouls are crazy for her. her canines are a tad bit longer, she looks like a vampire. the only piercings she has is a tongue piercing and a belly button piercing. her horns curl around and under her ears, like a rams.

Aurora: instead of horns, she has gills like that of an axolotl. they're pink and they fluff up when she's excited. her hair is short, to her jaw, and wavy with two long chunks in the front going to her chest. it ombres from pink to violet to blue. she has slight wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, proof of her near constant laughing. her cheeks are always flushed making her seem like she's always blushing.

[kiyomitakada]

When you're awake you remember that night crystal clear. It feels realer than life, actually; it waits in the corners of your mind every time you close your eyes. Your mom had shoved you into the closet and said stay there, Misa, we'll be out to get you soon and you'd protested, because you were nineteen, almost a full adult, when was she going to stop treating you like a child? But her eyes flashed and her nails dug into your shoulders and so you acquiesced.

It's your worst regret, probably. But then again, if your parents hadn't died, you wouldn't have met Light. Everything has its own happily ever after.

You just wish dream-you knew as much.

He looks like Ryuzaki. You'd only really gotten a glimpse of the burglar's actual face when the screams had died down and you'd finally dared to push the door open more than a crack (coward, weak, should have died anyway) and seen him disappearing through the broken window, a fact that had been beaten quite sufficiently into your consciousness at the police station two hours later, thank you very much, but in that flash you'd seen that his hair was black. Apparently that was enough for your brain to fill in the rest.

So yes, it is Ryuzaki you see in the dreams, grinning at you with all his teeth gleaming like a trickster fox, your parents' blood oozing from his eyes. Your dad did always say you watched too many horror movies. You try to clutch at the phone you were calling 110 with but it's gone, vanished to air and darkness, and then everything is gone except for the scratchy texture of fabric over your eyes and wrists and ankles and his awful monotone drone reading you your rights while you scream and scream and scream just to hear something other than that goddamn robot and—

"Misa?"

You jolt awake. Light has his hand on your shoulder. He's frowning.

"Light!" you gasp. "Thank you!"

"Sure," Light says. "Nightmare?"

"You know it," you say, and grin at him. You're pretty sure you've accidentally copied Ryuzaki's grin because he flinches. "Sorry for waking you up."

"It's fine." He lies back down. He looks ugly like this, hair messy and eyes crusted. "Just don't do it again."

"Okay," you say, and grin properly this time. He turns on his back and curls away from you.

Probably watching out for intruders in the night, you realize. And he's left his writing arm free, just in case. God, Light's so nice to you. You couldn't have picked a better man to fall in love with.

Your throat is kind of sore, though, from all the screaming. Ugh. You should practice more, you're supposed to be an actress. "I'm going to get water," you announce.

"Be quiet," Light mumbles, and falls asleep again.

You consider him, the arc of his body in the sheets, for just a split second. There are bags under his eyes that grow darker every day. (You blink and — black spiked hair, white T-shirt — no.) He doesn't look divine this way. He looks like a regular twenty-one-year-old man, ordinary in his attractiveness.

You smile to yourself. That's the beautiful thing, isn't it? You're the only person alive who knows he's a god.

You slide your hands under your thighs and push yourself away from the mattress (you've perfected the art of silently getting up at this point), then tiptoe towards the kitchen. It's nice, being in the dark. The reverse-osmosis water hisses into your glass; you watch it fill.

Murderer, says the ghost in your living room.

You ignore him. You're good at that by now.

[ @deathnotetober day 1: favorite character ]

[pixelmensupremacy]

I told you I'd be here. Momma has her soup ready

May I request some Leon Kennedy smut? I don't know why Im this way LMAO

But the genuine idea of you and him going to a party and sees you in one of his favorite dresses and takes you away from the party to have his own private party with you.

A/N: I wrote this instead of going to sleep.

Word count: 1.1k

WARNINGS: Porn with no plot, unprotected sex, kind of public sex, not proofread

Chatter and live music filled the enormous space; every attendant was elegantly dressed, and each of their outfits was prettier and more detailed than the other, embodying the extravagance of the Victorian era. The ornamentation of the ballroom was just as equally extravagant as the clothing of its residents. Crystal chandeliers hung low above the gorgeous marble pattern of the flooring; the soft light illuminated the patterns, causing the crystalline formations in the marble to spark.

Nursing a glass of champagne, (Y/N) wholeheartedly laughed at whatever her interlocutor was so passionately talking about, in hope that he wouldn’t notice how little she engaged in the conversation. Truth be told she didn’t know who the guy was nor how she ended up chatting with him; it wasn’t like she paid much attention to anything that happened that night, for her mind was occupied with far more engrossing matters. Looking past the man’s shoulder, her wandering gaze fell on said matter.

The soft blue of his irises anchored her attention, able to lure her in even when across the room; and as if he cast a spell upon her, she felt her legs soften. Leon smirked fully knowing she was watching; that charming smile of his was the last nail of the coffin and (Y/N) felt how her feet were about to give out. Quickly, she mumbled an excuse and stumbled her way through the dense wall of people that stood in her way.

“So, we meet again?” He stated, he sounded certain as if their meeting was bound to happen, and the smile on his face didn’t fade.

“I suppose you refuse to leave me alone.” She shot back with her hands crossed before her chest in a defensive position. Leon giggled in response, secretly enjoying the little game (Y/N) was putting up.

“Well then- he paused to look at her, a darker blue tinted his irises- I could if you so desire.” He raised his brow at her, waiting for the answer he knew he would get. She let out a sigh.

“I suppose we can negotiate on that. Meet me in the bathroom.” Leon drowned the rest of his drink, eager to finally be able to peel the fabric of the dress that had so shamelessly bewitched him into blindly following after her.

Slamming the door behind him and locking it, Leon wasted no time catching up with manifesting the desires that haunted his mind all evening into reality. His lips caressed hers gently at first in a way of making sure she was completely comfortable. And comfortable she was with her hands frantically seeking the zipper of his slacks all the while her tongue traced his lips, silently begging for him to let their tongues collide.

Lifting the fabric of her skirt, Leon groped her ass, causing a deep moan to rip out her throat; her head rolled back, instead fulfilling his wish to trace the delicate skin of her neck. Her fingers tangled in his dirty blond locks while she held onto his shoulders, fully giving up on undoing his pants. Luckily for her, he did it; unbuckling his belt, Leon traced her still clothed folds through the fabric of her panties. He hissed at the mixture of (Y/N)’s warm slick lubing his cock and the feel of the texture of the fabric that caused an almost painful sensation to tingle his dick.

She dug her nails into his scalp as her grip on his hair tightened in desperation, she whined a plead for him to get in her- a desire he too sought after. Unceremoniously, Leon ripped her panties just enough for him to insert the tip.

“Those were one of my expensive ones!” She murmured in complaint.

“Trust me, sweetheart, that is going to be your last problem by the time I’m finished.” He whispered in her ear, shivers ran down her spine, foul grin curled the corners of her mouth.

“You better keep your promise.” (Y/N) hooked her arms around his shoulders, in preparation for what was to come.

“Darling, when have I let you down?” His forehead was touching hers as he fully pushed in. In unison, they panted out silent moans of bliss. Every thrust caused her entire form to shake; her bottom lip was caught between her teeth, biting back the moans that threatened to escape past her plump lips. Leon kissed her, whilst his hand reached for her clit, rubbing tight circles on it. (Y/N) gasped, involuntarily granting his tongue permission in her hot mouth. The vibrations of her moans resonated against him further motivating him to keep up his pace.

Mercilessly, his cock slammed into her; the sound of his skin crashing against hers filled the room and probably slipped past the bubble that the bathroom had become. Her juices pooled on the counter as she was getting closer to her high though Leon wasn’t pleased wet. Intentionally, he slowed down, pulling almost completely out only to slam himself back in and hit that spot that had her squirm. He pulled the straps of her dress, revealing her hardened nipples. With his mouth he enveloped the left one with the hotness of his tongue that worked on circling it with the eventual interference of his teeth grasping the sensitive flesh; his other hand remained on her clit, putting pressure on it just enough to keep her on the edge.

(Y/N) was a moaning mess, any remorse left had gone long ago as she didn’t care if anyone could hear her; all she cared about was how good Leon’s dick felt stretching her out to her limit and how agonizingly slow he moved. Her nails dug into his flesh, sure to leave crescent marks on his fair skin. His name rolled down her mouth akin to a prayer that kept her sane; once she started pleading, that’s when Leon knew he brought her to her limit.

“Have you had enough fun, sweetheart?” His voice was hoarse but attractive nonetheless. She shook her head.

“Do you want me to make you cum?” His bangs tickled her forehead, she nodded frantically.

“Good.” Immediately, his hips crashed against hers; electric waves spread through her body, warmth rushed through her. A few thrusts were all it took for her to scream out his name as she reached her peak; her walls clenched, coating his aching cock with her cum. Following after her, Leon came inside her, painting her walls with his cum.

For a minute, they stood still, trying to catch their breath. Resting his head atop her chest. Leon listened to her heartbeat as he came down from his high; she planted her chin atop his head, deeply inhaling the scent of his shampoo and cologne, it almost made her walls twitch again.

“You gotta be careful wearing this dress.” He panted.

“Why?” She questioned, genuinely curious.

“It makes you a hundred times more irresistible.” (Y/N) giggled at his cheesy remark.

“Maybe I should wear it more often.” She suggested, a smirk appeared on her face.

[ladyswillmart]

Overhead, the skies over Yondershire appeared a velvet cloak, smooth and soft, violet-black—the real blue-ribbon stuff of hometown poetry festivals.

Poetry is fine enough, Arlen thought, although he did like pretzels better. He chewed thoughtfully.

Night skies are also fine enough by their lonesome, especially in the Shire, especially in June. Nevertheless, how kind that someone, perhaps some celestial elf-maid, thought to spatter a million stars across the whole thing, and they even twinkled a little. It wasn’t an overt twinkle, Arlen observed, nothing too ostentatious but sort of like the way the Elbow’s Bend Inn studded their pretzels with those big crystals of salt.

They were simply better with the salt, but beyond taste and texture, there was some other quality to a coarse salted pretzel that he could not adequately describe. He continued to chew, lamenting his own lack of vocabulary: What kind of bard should have such profound difficulty describing his love for a pretzel?

While revelers milled around him and his company, the crickets purred wordlessly in the wildflowers. Suddenly seized by curiosity, Arlen looked up at the other elf who had joined them earlier, an apparent close friend of Hivallion’s whom he identified as “Gildor”, last name Something-or-other that Arlen forgot after his first ale. Their reunion was all laughing surprise and “How long has it been?” with a lot of very large numbers being bandied around and then a strange shift, smooth as the sky above, into what Arlen could only assume was their native tongue.

Arlen was never good with elven languages and he was even worse with large numbers. No no, he was better with pretzels, much better, or at least he thought he was.

“So,” he finally spoke up, now that he felt suitably merry. “Who is Hivallion, anyway?”

Gildor registered surprise, as the elf in question napped nearby, where some hens milled around a patch of black-eyed Susans, delivering the occasional curious peck.

“He is your tutor, is he not?” he replied, then smiled, as warm as the breeze circulating the garden, ruffing everyone’s hair. “Oh, I see. You want to hear the story from an old friend, eh? Well, I suppose you picked the right person to ask. I have known Hivallion since he was quite young—since I was quite young, really. We are roughly the same age, I would wager.”

“Are you really? What did he do, way back when? I mean, Did he ever do anything, uh, I dunno, adventurous...? Foolhardy?”

“Foolhardy!” Gildor laughed a little. In his hand, he balanced a half-full tumbler of scrumpy. “Well, foremost he was well known among us as a scholar, albeit one who spent most of his time out and about, if that should count as adventurous in your book. His field of interest primarily lied within our environment, especially its creatures, especially the small ones, especially those with wings. Oh, birds, butterflies, bees, bats, snails...”

Arlen stopped chewing momentarily. “Snails? Those don’t have wings.”

“No, my friend. No, not anymore, not anymore, sorry to say...”

Arlen eyed the elf’s tumbler; perhaps he too was feeling a bit too suitably merry. “Say, did he ever wear armor like that? Like yours? All shining, like the moonlight?” he asked, deftly changing the subject. “Did he ever go to battle?”

Gildor nodded. “Indeed. Well and often, though war never suited him. For certain occasions he would wear a jerkin of finely tooled calf, and over that, a breastplate of...” He took a drink as he reminisced. “...oh, it was some kind of metal scale like the belly of a fish, shining pale blue like—yes, like the moonlight, like a reflection of the full moon over the Belegaer.”

Ah. Now that was some poetry.

If only such wonderful words could somehow become applicable to the ineffability of pretzels...

“I wonder if he still has it?” said Arlen. “Reckon I’d like to see that. Maybe try it on m’self...”

“His mother likely keeps it, if Hivallion himself knows not where it is. Still, you should ask him about it. Whenever he wakes,” said Gildor, muttering as he offered his slumbering friend a spare glance. “Honestly, old as the blessed sun and he still can’t hold his drinks...”

[awaytobeunshaken]

Angstpril 2023 - Day 22: Shadow of Former Self

The first thing Ashton noticed was the odd texture on a patch of skin on his belly, to the side above his right hip. It felt… harder somehow; still flexible like skin should be but the sensation against their fingers was more like metal, or stone. The color change, however, was what sent him to the nurse. They’d all been dragged into a room for the puberty talk a while back, a bunch of blathering about bodies going through changes that most of them were already experiencing, but there was no way this was puberty. Green was definitely not a color skin was supposed to be, unless something was very wrong.

She’d given him some lotion to put on it twice a day, but it did nothing to address the change in texture, and the color somehow appeared to be getting brighter. And it was definitely getting bigger, though fortunately the area was still easy enough to hide beneath clothes, or to keep covered when he slipped in or out of the bath. It fucking hurt after a while, though, the growing patch of stony skin pulling at the soft skin around its edges as it continued to spread. And there was something especially humiliating about the green starting to reach down toward his crotch, even though nobody was really gonna see it there, either.

But the farther it spread, the more hiding it took; eventually short pants were out of the question, even just to sleep in, and long sleeves became a necessity as well, no matter how much they chafed. The people Ashton was comfortable with touching them had long been few and far between, but now they shied away even from those, terrified that someone would notice the change through their clothes. And after he tried to run his fingers through his hair, only to pull his hand away as it encountered the odd, sharp stubble of stony crystals poking through the scalp, Ashton added a hood to the ensemble, pulling it further forward as the green started to creep even onto the edges of his face.

And at night, overheated but buried in blankets in fear that a green finger or toe might poke out, that was the only time they let themself cry.

He should have known he couldn’t keep it up for much longer when it started to move to his face. Really should have been surprised to make it that long, considering how kids were. He heard the whispers during class and meals, about how nobody thought he was cool, hiding like that (good, that was the last thing Ashton needed), and wow, it must smell in there (not at all, the one benefit he’d noticed to the transformation was he didn’t sweat the way he’d used to), and it was only a matter of time before someone ran up behind him, ripping the hood down.

“Oh, what the fuck?” the kid exclaimed, backing away from the green and purple head he’d revealed. Ashton took advantage of the temporary fear, or at least surprise, to growl at him before running down the hall to climb into their bunk and bury themself beneath the covers again.

But people had seen. He wasn’t sure how many, but surely some. And honestly, hiding this from everyone wasn’t making Ashton any friends. The whispers were right, it wasn’t cool, it made him look like some dumb poser. ‘Cool’ was not giving a fuck. So slowly, deliberately, they pulled the covers down, removed the hood entirely, and then followed with their shirt. Ashton dug their fingers into the shoulder seams and ripped the sleeves off entirely, then put it back on. He reached down to his pants next, legs hanging off the edge of the bed, to rip the knees open there. This was who he was, a green-assed freak, and if anyone had a problem with that, then fuck ‘em.

ao3

[little-shiny-sharpies]

3, 4, and 8?

3. How do each of you express affection? 

Wrathion does grandiose gestures like gifting high quality things such as rare and beautiful crystals, the fancy expensive wine that comes in bottles not shaped like bottles, fresh crab (I go absolutely nuts for crab IRL that stuff is so delicious but expensive), and does love hugs, we always give him hugs when we leave somewhere, . Kalec likes saying compliments or simply stating observations he makes about us, He also sends mirror images when he's busy for surprise "I love you"s and smooches when we least expect it. I do random combos of words, things i make, things i find, and sooooo many cuddles. So many, cuddles and hugs and smooches.

4. Are there different dynamics in your ship? If so, what are they?

Ok so me and Kalec are an autism to autism romance like. WALL-E and EVA during that scene where EVA scans for a plant and WALL-E just shyly scuttles around following them and gets buried in shopping carts and then WALL-E shows them their human stuff. When they give EVA the rubix-cube and turn around to grab the lightbulb and return to it solved and go "Woah!" and hand them the bulb to look at it and the bulb glows in EVA'S hand and then they both go "woah" and mess with it? That exact scene is so us. So many cool and beautiful things in the world to understand.. I can't use magic very well if at all and am at a lot of disadvantages with arcane stuff and Kalec will cast a spell for me so I can see what it's supposed to look like and I can try to copy it. I sometimes go extra slow to see him do it again just to see him in the light of his spells..

Kalec and Wrathy are opposites but also the same in a way..? They both deeply care about keeping the world safe and rising above their predecessors shadows to pave a better path for their kind, they both see mortals as equals unlike most dragons and enjoy living among them. They are so balanced together it's amazing, they bring out the best in each other and have such a deep understanding of what the other has been though and what they want and their fears and to try and put it into a sentence: They're like 2 sides of the same coin.

Me and Wrathy are more of a fiery/ sassy but also sad duo and both tend to dig our claws into the other 2 sometimes because we're so afraid to lose them so we are very clingy and easily stressed. We understand what it's like to be considered an abomination of nature to the world and "lesser" than others, so we make sure to show the other we love them constantly which does sometimes turn into annoying PDA that Wrathion does love because he likes showing me off like “Look at how sweet and pretty my girlfriend is, this is mine and our boyfriend’s and you can’t have any! You missed out!” And I’m just thinking “OUGHHHHOHOHO WHEEEE I PULLED HIM!! wait we’re in the middle of the market”

8. Is there any clothing sharing? Does one partner “steal” clothes from the others?

OK so firstly I think visage clothes are like. magic so you can take them off and away from the dragon and they can just magic it back if they lost it or just make a new one like *poof* and its the exact same. BUT to answer the question that would be me 90% of the time ｀(^ᴗ^)´. I'll steal their overcoats and wear them on me as robes with the sleeves rolled up or like cloaks around my neck or waist since they're both bigger than me tho Kalec is quite a bit bigger. I'll steal Wrathion's earrings, gloves, his necklace on a few occasions, and I'll steal Kalecs belt bc that thing looks like a giant marble and i just know it's got some great stimmy texture and sounds. They usually only steal my scrunchies and wear them as bracelets or use them to tie their hair up and it makes me go (｡♡ʊ♡｡)

[velidewrites]

CHAPTER TWO ALREADY?! I AM ON MY KNEES

Ironically those supposedly cursed woods had been where Lucien had felt most at home when he was a child.

Oh. Oh okay- we're jumping right into the trauma this is fine. This is sooooo fine. Those are NOT tears in my eyes. It's the humidity. In uh, the middle of December.

In some ways, he supposed, it was both. Except he had the added benefit of not knowing why the hell he’d be summoned here. At least in prison he’d know what to expect.

NOOOO LUCIEN BABY

Failure, one said, flame curling out of its stone mouth.

HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO HATE HIM FOR HIS CRIMES NOW?

Cursed, declared a third, its wings spread wide as if poised to take flight.

Lmao oh Lucien. You have NO idea

She was the only reason he hadn’t cut all ties to this wretched family, if he was honest. If it wasn’t for her he would have cut his losses and ran as far as he could. Probably with a different last name.

May I suggest Archeron?

“Because of my wife,” he managed to get out through gritted teeth. His hands were shaking, making the fork he was holding clank against his plate. He dropped it with a clatter. “Remember her? Or I guess you wouldn’t, considering she was never allowed to come here.”

Wait. HOLD ON. Was?

“If he insists on mourning the likes of her there’s nothing we can say to change his mind.”

MOURNING-

Jes had been a better person than any of them combined, but things like that hardly mattered to his family. It didn’t matter that she had been kind, and loving, with a soul as generous as it was wild.

SHE'S DEAD OH MY GOD HOW DID I NOT SEE THAT COMING

Until he’d met Jes. Being with her made him forget to mourn his lost magic. She was magic, a new, wonderful brand of it that he couldn’t get enough of. Her laughter was a bonfire, her touch a spell, and he was bewitched by her from the start.

Not once did I stop sobbing from the beginning of this chapter OH MY GOD THE FEELS

Beron waved dismissively. “He’s a Vanserra.

OR IS HE????

The warning was clear. This wasn’t just a test, but an ultimatum- if he failed, he likely wouldn’t be welcomed here again.

Good fucking riddance, Beron

“First time getting your fortune read?” she asked, giving her voice the breathy, self-important air she always put on when she was working.

SHE'S A FORTUNETELLER I AM SCREAMING

There was a shuffle of footsteps from outside the curtained area that blocked off Madam Fawn’s Fortune Salon from the rest of the shop, indicating that Vassa had decided to snoop. Damn her and her witchy hearing.

MADAM FAWN OH MY GOD THIS IS THE BEST THING EVER

“Are you sure? Do you want to come over for dinner tonight? Jurian won’t mind!”

You made Jassa a thing?? I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

“Oh shut up, you pile of bones.”

She's so funny for this please

“Elain?”

UH OH

But no, it couldn’t be.

YEAH IT COULD

Elain blinked in shock as the man’s features came into view, his tall frame frozen as still as she was. Golden-brown skin flashing red, then purple, then blue in the glow of the gaudy crystals. Hair the color of embers that she still remembered the texture of. And those eyes that blazed at once hot and soft, eyes that she had always thought could see right through her to the core of her soul.

GOD THIS IMAGERY I AM INSANE

“Lucien?”

DADDY'S HOME

Once Cursed, Twice Shy

Part 2 of my gift to @velidewrites for @acotargiftexchange!

Summary:

Don't mix vodka and magic, they said. It will end badly, they said.

Elain's never been particularly superstitious, but when a ghost from her past comes crashing back into her life, she realizes that the old saying might have been true after all.

And that she might have (accidentally and definitely not on purpose) cursed her ex-boyfriend.

Inspired by the Ex Hex by Rachel Hawkins.

Chapter 2: A Stumble Through the Flames

Ao3 Chapter 1

A/N: Let me know if you'd like to be added to or removed from my tag list!

Present Day, Yorkshire

Lucien stared at the imposing manor in front of him, its many windows as dark as the memories this place dredged up. The dark stone walls crawled with ivy, turrets reaching for the sky proudly. Even though he couldn’t see it from where he stood he could picture the overgrown, neglected garden woven through with narrow pathways, and the sloping hills that lead to the woods beyond. There were rumors about those woods- whispers of werewolves and magpies, legends about children getting lost and never being found. It was all nonsense, of course. The only monsters around here lived in the manor house.

Ironically those supposedly cursed woods had been where Lucien had felt most at home when he was a child. He had spent countless hours in his youth memorizing the twists and turns of the dense paths until he could have found his way home blindfolded. Inside the manor there was perpetual silence, but it was anything but a comfortable one. It was a brittle silence, one that could snap at any moment and lead to something even worse. The forest, by contrast, was never still. There was something comforting about the quiet energy of the woods- the rustle of underbrush, the distant call of an animal.

There would be no traipsing through the woods today, however. Lucien exhaled a deep breath, as though the house he was facing was a prison he was willingly entering and not his childhood home.

In some ways, he supposed, it was both. Except he had the added benefit of not knowing why the hell he’d be summoned here. At least in prison he’d know what to expect.

As he walked up the wide stone steps flanked by gargoyles he could have sworn their eyes followed him. He had hated them since he was a child, unnerved by the carved eyes that seemed to judge him and find him lacking.

Failure, one said, flame curling out of its stone mouth.

Weak, said another, claw-tipped hands gripping the pillar it appraised him from.

Cursed, declared a third, its wings spread wide as if poised to take flight.

If Lucien had the luxury of wings he would have flown out of this hellhole a long time ago.

The front doors opened and closed on a phantom wind as he stepped inside, shutting him into the gloom of his past.

**

He’d managed to stay away for a full year, this time. He would have gotten away with longer, were it not for this summons- and the yearning to see his mother in the flesh. Talking to her through a scribing board was not the same, and the guilt he felt for all but abandoning her was made worse by the way her face shone with happiness every time he called.

She was the only reason he hadn’t cut all ties to this wretched family, if he was honest. If it wasn’t for her he would have cut his losses and ran as far as he could. Probably with a different last name.

These summons always followed a predictable pattern, and this one was no different. A stiff family dinner, followed by some sort of announcement that included either an assignment for one of them, or, on occasion, a punishment. For Lucien it was usually more of the latter and less of the former.

Dread coiled in his stomach. Surely he couldn’t have done anything to deserve his father’s wrath this time? He couldn’t think of anything, but then again, he and his father had very different ideas of what deserved punishment.

“So,” Kalan drawled as the dinner plates were replaced with desert, “still living in homeless shelters?”

His twin sniggered from across the table, his mirth quickly turning into a cough as Eris narrowed his gaze on the pair. “Watch it,” his elder brother warned.

“Working for youth shelters. Managing them, as you very well know. You’ll be sorry to hear that I’m able to keep a roof over my head without anyone’s help.” Unlike the rest of you, he silently added. It was a dangerous jab, but if his father heard he didn’t seem to care. Yet.

“Lucien’s been in Australia,” his mother said proudly, reaching out to grab his hand affectionately. Lucien could feel the bones in her fingers, so brittle he might be able to snap them just by squeezing. She was so thin, even more than last time he saw her.

“Australia?” Liam prodded, stupidly. “Why would you go to that hellhole?”

Lucien cleared his throat, willing himself not to rise to the bait. It was possible that Liam was too stupid to remember, and wasn’t being malicious, but it stung all the same.

“With the regulations their magical government has been drafting, a lot of young witches have been struggling, and it’s not safe for them on the streets. I have connections there, so it seemed a good place to focus since the London branches have been running smoothly.”

“What the hell kind of connections do you have in Australia?” Kalan asked, looking truly baffled.

“Kalan,” Eris warned.

But it was too late. By now all six of his brothers and, regrettably, his father, were all staring at him. His mother’s hand tightened around his.

Lucien took a deep breath through his nose. Losing his temper would do him no good, he was painfully aware of that, but damn if his good-for-nothing brothers didn’t make it difficult.

“Because of my wife,” he managed to get out through gritted teeth. His hands were shaking, making the fork he was holding clank against his plate. He dropped it with a clatter. “Remember her? Or I guess you wouldn’t, considering she was never allowed to come here.”

The silence that fell was deafening. It seemed to press around him, buzzing in his ears and crawling down his throat until he thought he might suffocate.

“Darling-”

“Don’t bother, Lillian,” his father snapped, cutting her off. Lucien stiffened but refused to meet his father’s hateful gaze. “If he insists on mourning the likes of her there’s nothing we can say to change his mind.”

Lucien laughed bitterly. The likes of her. Jes had been a better person than any of them combined, but things like that hardly mattered to his family. It didn’t matter that she had been kind, and loving, with a soul as generous as it was wild. The only thing that mattered was that she wasn’t a true witch. Her great-great-grandmother had been a witch, but the magic had petered out over the generations until the only thing that was left for Jess to inherit was her ancestor’s bold, unusual coloring, and eyes that could see particularly well in the dark.

Lucien had hardly cared about her lack of magic. How could he, given his own predicament? In the end when her blood had flowed it had been just as red as anybody else’s. They were all mortal, no matter how much they liked to delude themselves with talk of bloodlines and magic purity. They all bled the same.

“You know what? If it’s all the same to you, I’m going to go now.” He pushed his chair back with a screech of wood on stone. His face burned with the combination of humiliation and rage that being around his family always kindled. The hurt that he knew would be on his mother’s face only made him feel worse. “It’s been a pleasure, as always.”

“Lucien, please stay,” his mother implored, her voice like a balm to his raw nerves.

He turned to her, clutching both her too-thin hands in one of his own. “I’m sorry, I just…” He swallowed hard as his father sighed impatiently behind him.

“We’re not done here. Sit down.”

Lucien whirled to look at his father, a biting retort on the tip of his tongue, but the look of cruel amusement in his father’s cold amber eyes made him freeze. He sat back down, if only because he knew if he didn’t he wouldn’t be the only one suffering Beron’s wrath. His mother didn’t need to bear any more consequences for his bad decisions.

“Christmas Solstice is coming up,” his father announced, his gaze still fixed on Lucien. At this his brothers perked up, distracted from the momentary entertainment of Lucien’s torment. “It’s time once again for one of us to go to Maple Glen to power up the ley lines.”

Lucien reflexively locked eyes with Eris. His brother was as coolly unruffled as ever, though there was something in his gaze that sent ice trickling down Lucien’s spine. If he hadn’t known that Eris wasn’t capable of such an emotion he might have thought his brother looked afraid.

Lucien couldn’t make sense of it. Powering up the ley lines was routine business, usually handled by Eris. It was seen as an honor- and so, naturally, he had never been asked to do it. The only time he’d ever even seen the village was when he’d accompanied Eris on his bi-yearly trip a decade earlier.

Not that he particularly cared to think about that- or to return to Maple Glen, for that matter.

As the silence dragged on Lucien became acutely aware of his father’s gaze still focused on him. Realization hit him like a slap in the face, and for a moment he was so stunned he forgot to hold his tongue.

“You’re sending me to Maple Glen?” It was so surprising he couldn’t wrap his mind around the implication. One thing was clear, though- whatever his father’s motivations were, this was neither a kindness nor an honor.

The twins scoffed in unison, launching into protests and jeers.

“Surely not!”

“Don’t be daft!”

“Shut it,” Eris growled.

“Indeed,” Beron drawled, leaning back in his chair as if this was immensely amusing to him. “It’s high time you make yourself useful to this family, don’t you think?”

Lucien swallowed thickly, his palms suddenly sweating. He had his own motivations for staying away from Maple Glen, but apart from that…

“What if he can’t?” Branlar blurted, looking equal parts baffled and outraged. “He can barely light a fire! How is he supposed to power the ley lines?”

And there it was, delivered with the tact and stealth of a battering ram.

“Fuck right off, yeah?” Lucien growled.

They all knew his outrage was mostly for show. Because in fact he could barely light a fire, and it usually left him drained enough to need a nap afterwards. It was his family’s greatest shame- the fact that he, a Vanserra, could barely wield more magic than a carnival magician. That the flame he had once manipulated without so much as breaking a sweat now left him physically drained, the inferno that used to course through his veins reduced to mere embers.

It hadn’t always been this way. He’d once been just as powerful as his brothers, if not more so. Flame, spells, air and light manipulation- it had all come so easily to him. And then, ten years ago, it had dwindled, like a tap being slowly turned off until only occasional drops remained.

He’d sought help from witches all over the world, had performed all manners of spells and cleansings and curse-breaking rituals he could find. None of it has worked. Some said he was cursed, or unlucky. His father liked to say that he was simply weak.

Lucien had despaired at first, desperate to find a cure and get his magic back. It had felt like not being able to breathe, the absence of magic like a phantom pain that kept him up at night.

Until he’d met Jes. Being with her made him forget to mourn his lost magic. She was magic, a new, wonderful brand of it that he couldn’t get enough of. Her laughter was a bonfire, her touch a spell, and he was bewitched by her from the start.

And then she’d been taken away from him. Like everything good in his life always was. He should have known it couldn’t last, really.

He should have stayed away from her, kept her safe from his bad luck. Just as he’d chosen to do with Maple Glen. That way he would have been broken-hearted, but maybe she’d still be alive.

“Father,” Eris started carefully, “powering the ley lines is quite taxing, are you quite sure…” Something about his careful tone told Lucien this wasn’t the first time he’d argued with their father about it. He didn’t know whether to be grateful or insulted.

Beron waved dismissively. “He’s a Vanserra. We’ve been doing this for centuries. Why shouldn’t he be able to?” The warning was clear. This wasn’t just a test, but an ultimatum- if he failed, he likely wouldn’t be welcomed here again.

Lucien chanced a glance at his mother. Her eyes, so like his own, were strangely calm. She reached for him again, and though her grip was still brittle, this time it came with a warmth that spread like a cloak over his skin.

He wasn’t just a Vanserra. It was her flame that he and his brothers wielded, and that power still flowed through his veins. No matter how badly he’d always fit in with his brothers, he would always be her son. And he’d be damned if he let his hateful father keep him away from her.

“Fine,” Lucien snapped. “I’ll go to Maple Glen. I went with Eris once, I watched him do it.”

“It’s hardly the same-“

“I said I’d do it, alright?” he snapped.

Even if it meant going back to the one place he swore he’d never step foot in again.

Even if it meant seeing her again.

**

Present Day- Maple Glen

Elain adjusted the beaded shawl around her shoulders as the customer seated across from her fiddled nervously.

“First time getting your fortune read?” she asked, giving her voice the breathy, self-important air she always put on when she was working.

“Yeah. I, um…don’t really know what I’m doing here, to be honest with you.”

Neither do I, Elain wanted to tell him, though she could hardly admit that. Instead she smiled at him indulgently.

“Don’t worry, dear. The tea leaves will tell us everything we need to know.”

The man wiped his palms on his jeans, drowned his cup with a wince, and pushed it towards her almost reluctantly. He looked so worried that Elain felt bad taking his money. She often felt bad, but as Vassa liked to remind her, she wasn’t completely scamming people. She did have the power of sight- it just didn’t come in the form of tea leaves and tarot cards. It wasn’t her fault her visions never manifested while she was with a customer.

“Now,” she declared, pulling the cup towards her, “was there something specific you were wondering about?”

The man’s eyes flitted around as though he was embarrassed to meet her gaze. For a second Elain thought he might bolt. That happened sometimes with the more skittish tourists. Too bad she asked for payment upfront.

“Well, yes…” He trailed off, took a breath to steel himself, and launched in. “It’s my wife. She’s…I think she’s hiding something from me.”

Oh. That hit a little close to home.

There was a shuffle of footsteps from outside the curtained area that blocked off Madam Fawn’s Fortune Salon from the rest of the shop, indicating that Vassa had decided to snoop. Damn her and her witchy hearing.

Elain squinted through the thick glasses that gave her eyes an unnatural, bug-like appearance, peering into the tea dregs. “Ok,” she said slowly, careful to keep her voice neutral. “And what makes you think that?”

“Well, she’s always jumpy and defensive, like she thinks I’m about to accuse her of something. She knows all my passwords but she gets mad if I even check the time on her phone…”

Elain’s gut twisted. This was all too familiar for comfort. She squirmed despite herself, and the man’s eyes went wide as he tracked the motion.

“That’s bad, right?” He gulped. “I knew it was bad before even coming here.”

This was the problem with this fortune telling business. It was almost too easy. The customers always ended up doing most of the work for her. Even when she tried to lay out a bright future for them, they always found a way to declare some sort of tragedy before it had even happened.

“Well, not necessarily. What does your wife do for work? I’m seeing a source of outside stress that may have been affecting you both…” she trailed off and peered deeper into the cup, frowning in concentration for good measure.

“Oh. She’s a doctor. Pediatrics.”

Bingo.

“Ahh, yes. Well, this time of year is especially stressful with all the influenza going around, isn’t it? I’m sensing this vacation you’re on was just the thing she needed…”

Ten minutes later the man was thanking her profusely, having been assured that there was no divorce in his future and that his wife was simply stressed at work. Elain kept her polite smile firmly in place until the bells above the shop door jingled with his exit, and then she sagged.

“Poor sod,” she said sadly, locking the door and turning the closed sign.

“Well, she’s definitely cheating on him,” Vassa agreed. The cash register clanged cheerful as she pushed it closed.

“Or she’s a secret witch,” Elain grumbled. She unwrapped the beaded shawl from around her shoulders, transforming back from Madam Fawn- Fortune Teller to Elain Archeron- Broke Witch. Broke, single, approaching thirty, and technically slightly homeless witch, to be exact.

Vassa shot her a dark look. “I thought we weren’t talking about that anymore.”

“We’re not!” Elain grabbed a broom and briskly set about sweeping the stray herbs and detritus from the day, avoiding Vassa’s knowing gaze. “I wonder which one he would react better to, though…”

“Elain!”

Elain threw her hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine.”

Vassa hovered halfway towards the front door, slipping a wool hat over her golden-red curls. “Are you, though?”

“Am I what?” Elain snapped her fingers and her piles of dirt disappeared into thin air. One of the many perks of living in a magic shop was the marked improvement on her spellwork.

“Fine?”

Elain sighed, finally meeting her friend’s eyes. “Yes. I’m fine.” How many times would she have to repeat it before she believed it? “I was just rattled by what that guy said.”

“Are you sure? Do you want to come over for dinner tonight? Jurian won’t mind!”

Elain grabbed her broom again, shooing Vassa towards the door. “Go, you mother hen! I’m fine!”

Vassa’s bright laughter rang out over the tinkling of the door, and then with a final click Elain was alone, enveloped in silence. Another evening alone, with nothing but her thoughts and a shop full of (mostly) fake magical artifacts to keep her company. The cat skeleton curled up next to the cash register hissed at her, as if affronted she had forgotten him.

“Oh shut up, you pile of bones.”

The cat stretched languidly and then turned away from her, letting out a displeased meowl for good measure.

Of course even an enchanted cat skeleton would reject her. Males of any species always did.

With a sigh she trudged up the stairs towards the tiny apartment above the shop and the empty evening it contained. Even after almost a year of living here she still called it the apartment and not her apartment. It technically belonged to one of the Maple Glen Coven’s elders, who let Elain live there in exchange for her services as a fortune teller for the shop. It had seemed like too good a deal to pass up when Amren had first offered it to her, especially with Vassa occasionally volunteering at the shop. Suddenly they were nineteen again, two young witches with their whole lives ahead of them.

Except that they weren’t, and after almost a year here, Elain felt stuck.

She wasn’t supposed to be living in a tiny, slightly musty apartment above a tourist shop on Main Street. Merlin, she wasn’t supposed to be living in Maple Glen at all.

Deep down she knew there was no shame in coming back home with her tail between her legs, but that’s what it felt like. Shameful, and embarrassing, like she had failed not just herself but other people’s perceptions of her as well.

She was supposed to be living in one of the manor houses on the outskirts of Salem, married to the son of a wealthy local family. Not here, with only a magically enhanced cat skeleton for company.

As soon as Elain’s feet hit the second floor landing, a noise from downstairs made her freeze. A whoosh, followed by the slight tingling sensation that always surrounded magic. She felt it raising the hair on the back of her neck, that awareness of a new source of power reaching out for her own.

Like calls to like.

She crept back down the stairs slowly, her mind racing ahead of her with possibilities. They’d never had a break in, but there was a first time for everything. That rush of power she’d felt, though- that couldn't have come from a townie trying to steal a few decks of tarot cards.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs she saw that the main shop floor was illuminated by a faint green glow, and a warmth was spreading through the darkened room. Elain relaxed as she saw the emerald flames crackling merrily in the hearth behind the cash register. Vassa had probably left something behind once again and decided to Apparate instead of walking back.

Elain crossed her arms and smirked, waiting for her friend to step through the flames, when a sharp inhale behind her made her heart stutter in her chest. She whirled, grabbing her discarded broom and brandishing it like a baton.

“Who’s there?” She tried to sound menacing, but the tremor in her voice was less than convincing. “Vassa? Is that you?”

“Elain?”

She didn't have time to register that the intruder (the male intruder) knew her name before the flames from the hearth fluttered out, smothering them in sudden darkness. From the faint glow of the street lights outside Elain could make out a shape moving in front of her, and she raised her broom higher.

“Where am I? Shit, I can’t see…”

Her heart gave another stutter, except this time it was from the shock of recognition and not fear. There was something familiar about that voice, a deep rumbling timber that she’d never forget as long as she lived. It was the same voice that still occasionally showed up in her dreams, murmuring sweet nothings in her ear. The voice that had made her swoon and laugh in equal measure. The voice that had taught her love, and then heartbreak.

But no, it couldn’t be. Surely she was mistaken. Surely…

Suddenly she very fervently wished that she was being robbed by a townie.

There was a loud crash as the figure stumbled into a display case, sending a shelf full of light-up crystals tumbling to the ground. They lit up as they hit the floor, bathing the room in a technicolor array of jewel-toned light.

Elain blinked in shock as the man’s features came into view, his tall frame frozen as still as she was. Golden-brown skin flashing red, then purple, then blue in the glow of the gaudy crystals. Hair the color of embers that she still remembered the texture of. And those eyes that blazed at once hot and soft, eyes that she had always thought could see right through her to the core of her soul.

“Lucien?”

Taglist: @areyoudreaminof @separatist-apologist @tuzna-pesma-snova @labellefleur-sauvage @corcracrow @autumndreaming7 @octobers-veryown @velidewrites @vulpes-fennec @sunshinebingo @asnowfern @hallway5 @thelovelymadone

[ink-and-dagger]

Dearest Darlings🖤

At risk of sounding like a broken record, Chapter 15 of DWM is behaving like a wriggly little whore. I'm doing my best to spank it into submission, but it seems to be into that or something, idk. Point is that it doesn't want to co-operate, so is going to be a while longer yet.

But to celebrate the week anniversary of setting my fic on fire in a blaze of angsty glory, I'll offer you another sneak peek.

DWM Chapter 15 Sneak Peek

[edits may be made in the final draft]

Your gown flows to the floor; draped artfully upon the curves of your body like fine spun spider-silk. 

Couples dance gracefully in time with the orchestral music which soars to the ogival arches high above you. Regimental lines of white stone pillars run the length of the ballroom, each one adorned with flickering candles and crystal trinkets that catch the light and reflect it further – dappling the walls with pinpricks of luminosity like suspended raindrops.

Every single face that twirls past you is hidden behind a mask of porcelain or leather, lace or felt. A dizzying array of designs both fantastical and artistic. Adorned with pearls or feathers or jewels. Overlaid with satin or silk or lace.

You’re certain it would all be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, were your attention not so thoroughly captured by the tall, thin man standing across the dance floor – gazing at you as though you’re a rare and precious treasure that’s just been unearthed.

He’s young. Handsome. Raven hair styled effortlessly back, and wearing the finest suit you’ve ever laid eyes upon. Made from a red so rich that your mind cannot comprehend such a shade, and black so dark it seems to swallow the light around it. The top left side of his face is covered with a mask edged in gold leaf, with an unfurled rose where the eyehole should be. Leaving only half a gaze visible to you; vibrant turquoise, brimming with passion and sly mischief.

Surrounded as you may be by opulence and splendour - in your eyes, he puts everything in this room to shame.

The crowd parts readily for him as he stalks directly towards you, moving with a lithe grace that commands attention and exudes power.

His arrival culminates in the extension of a long, elegant hand; palm up.

And you take it, without hesitation.

It’s the most natural thing in the world to step within his embrace. His arm winds around your waist, holding you close as he leads you with easy confidence in a slow, indulgent waltz.

His voice is as velvet and rich as the lapels on his suit jacket, and more beautiful than the music which echos around you in haunting swells.

“I’ve been looking for you, Darling.”

You nod, “I’ve been looking for you too.”

He smiles. And you smile too.

You’ve never felt more content than you do in this moment. Peaceful. Happy. You don’t know how you know, but you’re flooded with the unquestionable certainty that this is exactly where you’re supposed to be.

The press of his brow against yours is achingly tender, and he tilts his face to capture you with a kiss that’s soft and sweet.

“Do you want me?” He asks, each word brushing featherlight against your lips.

“Yes."

You expect him to be happy with your answer. But the corner of his mouth ticks downwards just a little – now sliced with a scar you hadn’t noticed before. And when you look up to his aqua eye, you find the hollow beneath it more prominent. Lines trace the skin that was so smooth mere moments ago, and his raven temples are dashed through with silver.

“How about now?”

“Yes.”

He guides your hand towards the mask he wears. Your fingers slip beneath the gilded edge, and you carefully peel it away. Beneath lies an expanse of mottled grey skin which sweeps to his hairline, and set within the centre like a crowning carnelian jewel is an unblinking hellfire eye. Your fingertips gently trace the ridges and grooves, committing the pattern and texture to memory.

“And now?”

“Yes.”

You’re left suddenly cold. His arms no longer around you.

The warm candle glow becomes frigid and pale; watery daylight shining through grimy, broken windows.

The stone arches above you nothing more than rusted girders and corrugated metal.

Ornamental stone pillars gone, leaving behind only crumbling concrete walls.

An abandoned warehouse. Yes. You’ve been here once before.

He stands in the middle of the space with his back to you.

Blood drips rhythmically from the crimson coated blade in his hand. Each drop clinging to the tip for a second before falling to join the steadily growing pool upon the floor – seeping ever closer to the sundered body at his feet.

His head cocks slightly, predatorily, peering over his shoulder at you with one cold-water eye.

“Do you still want me now?”

“Yes.”

Why can’t he see that you mean what you say?

The dead body at his feet becomes only one of dozens, multiplying each time you dare to blink.

“Are you so sure?” There’s a cruel lilt to his voice. It teases. Toys. And yet still your answer is immediate and unequivocal.

“Yes.”

Your feet catch and tangle with the bodies that litter the floor. Treading upon purple veins which emit a shimmering vapour as you pass. Your body is weighted and slow, but you desperately battle it all to reach him.

You clutch his shoulder, and turn him to face you fully.

The skin around his left eye is no longer scarred, but scaled. 

Each charcoal plate is finished with an opalescent shine, and layered around a garnet eye; cut vertically with a thin, serpentine pupil. And when he speaks, you catch sight of teeth which are just a little too sharp.

“Do you really want me, Sweetheart?”

Your hands rise to caress the silken scales which gradually spread until his entire face is coated, “Yes. I want you, Silco.”

Claw-tipped fingers slide lovingly to your throat, long enough to wrap easily around the entirety of your neck. Talons puncture skin as he steadily begins to squeeze.

“You shouldn’t.”

[fic-dumpster]

✨koko’s hair✨

Are you trying to invoke the power of random creativity 😂😂💕 or something? Oh, well... Okay the drabble is not a drabble anymore. Dun dun dunnnn💀 | w: use of alcohol, inebriated reader

ANON LISTEN! You!!! You smart little icon with dark glasses!! I could do smth like this for my 1k event... Oh... The possibilities.

“Koko! What is this thing?” You gawked at the very exotic and expensive-looking bottle on his table. It was this brownish color with an elephant on the label.

“Some liqueur that Mikey sometimes orders because it's very sweet,” Kokonoi didn't look up from the document on his desk. “It’s called Amarula,”

“Can I try some?” You were curious; the bottle had caught your attention. “Please, just a taste!”

Kokonoi nodded without paying much attention; the drink was not very strong, so Koko didn't think much of it. “Just fill a glass with ice to the top and pour a little.”

You excitedly skipped towards his minibar, taking out a whisky glass and filling it with ice. You had always liked the shape of those mini glasses. “Koko! Like this?” you showed him the amount of ice in the short crystal. Glancing your way, he nodded. Opening the sealed bottle, you poured some in your glass—watching how the liquid melted the ice with sparkling eyes.

Less than a third of the bottle down, you already felt kind of weird. The flavor was good, and the thick texture felt nice against your tongue. Of course, you weren't supposed to have more than one sip... But Koko was very busy, and Takeomi and Sanzu weren't here yet to report to Koko. Then you all could leave. So you decided to kill time with your new liquid friend.

Kokonoi didn't notice you getting tipsier by the minute; he also didn't see your tumbling form nearing his desk. It was too late. You pounced on him—scattering all his papers and some pens everywhere. The long-haired man barely had time to catch you on his lap. “Y/N! What in the-” Kokonoi was cut short by your cheeks being shoved against his face. Your hands explored the long strands of silvery-white hair—a small giggle left your lips.

“You’re so soft,” you even began massaging his scalp as your face kept caressing his own, “I love your hair, but don't let Koko know, okay?” You purred—hands still very much deep in his mane. “Oh, you’re so pretty,” you cooed.

Kokonoi Hajime, Bonten executive, was currently under attack, and he was losing the battle. His red-heating face was proof of that. No words could come out of his mouth as you kept throwing praises his way.

The sound of footsteps alerted Kokonoi. Sanzu and Takeomi had arrived. The flustered man tried to pray your hands off of his face and hair but to no avail. You resisted, nuzzling even more against the man.

As soon as the Akashi brothers stepped in, they saw your very cat-like state. Were you curled up against Kokonoi?

“What is going on with Y/N?” Sanzu couldn't help but notice your strange behavior. You were still playing with Kokonoi’s hair.

“I- I think she’s drunk,” muttered Kokonoi—having already given up on trying to stop your activities.

“What?” Takeomi couldn't believe Kokonoi let you drink so much, “What did you give-” he saw the uncapped bottle of Amarula on the table and an empty glass. “Koko, what the hell? It’s 17% of alcohol!”

“So?” asked now Sanzu, confused. Takeomi facepalmed at the pinknette remark.

-

After Sanzu and Takeomi filled their reports by themselves because Koko was very busy with a handsy-drunk-you on his lap, you all left the office. But in the hall, your steps faltered, causing the three men to go to your aid.

“You shouldn't touch me!” You swatted their hands away, “Bonten executives won't like you touching me; you’ll be skinned alive.” you said with a serious expression.

“And why is that?” Sanzu played your drunk game with a broad smile on his face.

“Because silly, I belong to them, duh.” the duh broke them. Sanzu doubled up in laughter as Kokonoi and Takeomi fell to the walls, hitting the surface with their fists while laughing. “This is not funny! Your lives are in danger!”

Yes, indeed, they were in danger but of your lovely drunk behavior.

[scarletwitching]

Pietro: The nerve of that clerk! He was supposed to be helping you! But he made us wait for ages... in the wrong line! And then his manner --

Crystal: Sst, Pietro! The baby...

Wanda: Really, brother -- it’s not that serious. Why, you’d think you weren’t even happy that your wife and sister have returned from seeming death!

Avengers vol. 3 #1; by Kurt Busiek & George Pérez; inks: Al Vey; colors: Tom Smith; letters: Richard Starkings & Comicraft/Kolja Fuchs

When will Wanda’s natural hair texture return from hiatus? It’s been too long.

[rinstars]

red wine

pairing: oikawa x reader

genre: smut

word count: 2.3k+

tags: cheating/infidelity, fingering, penetration, public sex, a little of size kink, degradation/humiliation, bathroom sex, wine play (lol not really they just drank from each other's mouth), one paragraph of oral sex, squirting, belly bulge, use of sir

note: thank u so much for 600 :( i'll do an event if i wasn't so preoccupied with other work but since i am here's an oikawa smut instead! enjoy ;)

Yellowish-gold lights give a soft glow and hue to the dancing bodies on the dance floor -- slow but sensual moving of the bodies, perfectly matching the atmosphere the place gives. Moving liquid coats the surface of the cut crystal, staining the glass counter as the rounded ice melts and condenses.

A well-ventilated place, cool air blowing a light breeze around you. The slit in your red dress didn’t help, though -- you thought you were right to hesitate when picking it out. But what choice do you have? Red dress compliments your lip, cherry blood thick-coated lips, enhancing the pearly shine of your teeth, reflecting the silky texture of your dress. Hair flowing around you, shining beneath the dancing bulbs and scent intoxicating anyone who walks by.

You were no fool. You knew every man in the place had eyes on you the moment you opened the doors, they all think it’s a pity that you came alone yet at the same time filled with delight to the brim at the thought of possibly being the one you came with next. The invisible line only grows every single time a man would enter, the rest of those existing already branding them as enemies -- as if you’re a prey to be caught. The owner of the bar thanks you every day, sends you gifts and jewels in appreciation, “You have blessed our business.” they once said. Glory to you who keeps the customers coming, cause they know you’ll always be here. Friday night as you drink away.

Not one of these lust-driven men has any idea -- you were a taken woman. Wife to one of the richest nobility in the country. A room in your house has been dedicated for your portraits for he is someone who adores getting your portrait painted. Every dress and lipstick, he buys for you. He wants everybody to know you’re his, make sure every single man in social gatherings crave for you. It sure did give him the satisfactions knowing a woman as beautiful and full of grace as you is within his hands. 

Not one of the men in the bars has any idea. 

After all, what’s a woman of your standing and class doing in a place littered with commoners -- the very same kind of people who serve you and your house? The ones who look at you in respect and inferiority. It’s amusing they think they have a chance. 

The chance would never come, no matter what kinds of traps they’ve laid out to catch you. Your eyes are trained on one, only one. What pulled you to him, you wonder. Maybe the fact that he’s of the same status as you, a well-respected noble hiding amongst those below you? Maybe the black suit he always wears, a perfect combination with your fiery red? The smile he gives a few seats away? 

Or maybe the thrill of both parties being married and lusting after each other like in a dirty little affair?

The chocolate of his eyes turn two different colors in a place like this -- glistening amber beneath the strobe lights or obsidian black when he stares at you in an animalistic glare, lips turning in a devilish glare. Perhaps that's part of the reason why none of your predators ever tried to go further with you. You give off the aura of a taken woman, both your body and heart, your name and title. 

The gloss on your lips is coming off, a result of your fourth glass of whiskey for the night. Sliding down the smooth base of the stool, one of your legs exposed itself, the material bunching up above your thighs. Gliding your way to the dim bathroom nobody really uses much, you pull out a tube of gloss, gliding it all around your lips. The clicking sound of the door not going unnoticed.

"Is he not supposed to come home tonight?" A voice asks you, the owner striding closer to you until the bulge in his pants is rubbing against your hip. 

With a turn of your head, you face the intruder by your left, pressing a flat palm on his chest. "Would I be here if he is?"

"I hate that color on you." He placed a hand on the small of your back, guiding you closer to him so your fronts are touching each other. 

Your brows rise in question at the statement. Red has always been your color, everyone has always associated it with you. "It's your favorite." 

"Not since that night," He whispered in your ear, breath tickling your neck as it blows away the stray hairs resting on your jaw. "A night of elegance and opulence, you showed up in the very same color, enveloped in his arms."

His free hand reached your shoulder, finger fiddling with the tied ribbon straps before pulling one of the ends. Lips latched on to the juncture between your shoulders and neck, open-mouthed wet kisses littering your heavily-scented skin. He always makes a comment about how bitter and sweet you tasted but tonight he doesn't. 

"What do you suggest I wear?" You speak with a restrained throat, like the air was cut from your lungs as he reaches for the other strap of your dress. 

He doesn't speak for a moment, continuing his silent torture on your neck, now with the inclusion of teeth as nibbles on the tender skin. With a pull on the thin straps holding the dress together, your breasts spill out in front of you, his calloused hands catching them in a perfect momentum as he chuckles on your skin, "Nothing."

Occupied by the application of your lip gloss a few moments ago, the fact that he went with a glass of wine went unnoticed by you. Not until he was pressing the cool glass on your protruding nipples, making goosebumps rise along the circle as you draw a soft gasp. Your weak hands reached to grip his wrist, trying to get him to slow down as your knees shake from pleasure.

He wasn't having any of your disobedience tonight.

By the time the next beat comes, his hands are on your throat, squeezing it as he pushes you over to the tile of the room. All you could do was whimper his name as pleasure spikes in your stomach, the arousal in your middle dripping down your inner thighs. "T-tooru."

"What kind of master taught you in your childhood?" He clicked his tongue in disapproval, hand on your throat gripping a little tighter than previously. "Did you not know you refer to your fellow nobility with formality? Take for example.. sir."

The glass lost contact with your nipples, the man before you dragging it slowly to your lips as the thumb from the hand on your neck reaches up to pull your mouth open. He tilts the glass to you, "Now, aren't you thirsty? I noticed you were much too preoccupied with the whiskeys, I believe you haven't gotten the luxury of tasting their wine yet."

"I am thirsty." You croak out, every single trace of composure leaving your body as you succumb to his humiliation. "Please let me taste it, good sir."

"Of course." He smiles at you, a devilish aura hidden behind as he lets the liquid touch your tongue, red liquid dripping down your chin as he purposely misses the target. "Don't swallow."

Mouth ajar and wetness dripping down your chin and hand-covered neck, he inches closer to you, connecting your lips to his as he forces you to share the bitter drink. Tongue dancing with yours as you create a mess, a pool of red. 

Enchanted by the kiss, you don't notice the fingers bunching up your dress, nimble fingers slowly discarding your underwear as they part your folds open, air blowing through you dripping, little cunt. His thumb toys with your throbbing bud, two other fingers collecting wetness and spreading it around. 

"Disgusting," He spits in your mouth, hand leaving your neck as he grasps your breast instead. "So wet. So slippery. So filthy."

In another place, another setting, another situation, you would have been offended being talked to in such a manner. How dare anybody at all humiliate one of the most powerful women in the country? But in the presence of Oikawa Tooru, whose power is next only to your husband, you would gladly get on your knees. Let him call you all kinds of names, treat you like a dirty whore.

"Sir," You whine out seductive, hands reaching the pants restraining his throbbing member inside and palming him, making him let out a hiss. "Please."

"Please, what, hmm?" He pushes a finger inside, pumping in and out of you with ferocity making you burn and scream. Your white, sticky cream clinging into his fingers and down to his wrist as you clench over and over around him.

"Fuck me like a filthy little slut, sir." You beg him as you claw on his shoulders, gripping it for support so your knees don't end up giving out. "Use me."

He didn't need to be told twice. With a growl, he yanks his fingers out of you, tears staining your eyes in both emptiness and pain as he forcefully turns you around, pressing you cheeks on the cold tile. He pushes the slippery material of dress up higher, exposing you to him as he licks a bold stripe from your clit to the opening, pushing his tongue in slightly and wiggling it inside. The wet muscle presses on the spongy spot inside of you, making you tremble in pleasure.

The assault of his tongue didn't last long. Not when his thick length rips you apart with every sinking inch, the stretch painful but welcomed. 

He is just as you remember him to be, long, think, fat, hard and everything else you could possibly dream of. He rams his cock into yours, heavy balls slapping your clit over and over. The squelching sound every thrust is making, thanks to your slick and juices, is humiliating. The wetness echoing everywhere in the room.

"You're practically squeezing the release out of me, I can't even --- fuck, you're so tiny and wet and tight… can't even move properly." He groaned into your shoulder, palms reaching down your belly to press down slightly, making you gasp out at the new feeling. "Do you feel that? I'm going to fucking break you if I go harder than this."

"Y-yes.. Ah, yes, sir. You make me f-feel so, so full." You cry out, quivering with pleasure as you reach between where your bodies connected, flicking the bud quickly – adding on to the already overwhelming amount of unbelievable pleasure. 

"Squirt." He orders out of nowhere, startling you before you shake your head slowly, trying to form coherent sentences in the midst of being fucked stupid.

"I can't. I have never done that." 

"Oh, I'll make you, baby. Make sure this little cunt sprays all over me." With that, he angles a bit deeper, swollen fat tip kissing your cervix as he rubs your spot over and over. 

Your vision whitens as you feel a different kind of climax build up inside you, your stomach tingling as you feel yourself get closer and closer. Unable to quiet down your moans and whimpers, you scream out his name, walls clamping down on him as he pounds into you for the last time.

Liquid shoots out of your hole, spraying all over his already opened dress shirt and onto his firm abs and down your thighs. He continues moving against you, the juices coming out of you, creating an even wider mess. 

"What a good girl." He coos as he pulls you back up, his own thick strings of cum dripping out of you in a sticky pool. He softly presses his lip into yours, fingers combing your hair back before hugging you to him.

"I love you." You whisper against his neck, tightening your hold around him.

"I love you too, pretty girl." He pulls out of the embrace, dragging you to the sink to clean you up. 

"You got my dress all wet and dirty." He only chuckles at that.

As you strut outside the bathroom, having the chance to fix your hair and make up inside, the only thing unusual about your appearance is the wet patches on your silk red dress. You didn't care about the stare of other men or what they have to say in their heads. 

But you definitely did care about what the uninvited man in front of you will.

Your husband.

"I got home earlier than expected." He jogs over to you, hair gelled and styled to perfection. The elegance spilling all around him. "The guards said you'd be here."

"Honey," You manage to choke out, hands reaching up to cup his face lovingly. "I missed you."

You didn't miss the twinkle in his eyes, neither the questioning look as he takes in your appearance. "Why is your dress so wet? How improper."

Eyes glancing backwards to where Oikawa stood, you compose yourself for a response. 

"I had the pleasure of being in the presence of the great Lord of the West, Oikawa Tooru. However due to clumsiness and lack of etiquette, circumstances led to a messy spill of drinks. No worries, my husband.. We took care of everything in the washroom."

[onyxylophone]

(@bakedbananners mcga gem AU that I stayed up like all night to write lmao ♡)

"My Lifetime Will Be a Fraction of Yours If I'm Lucky"

10:00 p.m.

          "Citrine, there is no way in hell that I am going to-!" Speridot burst into the motel room, Citrine hot on her heels as she slammed a worn-out hiking backpack down onto one of the beds. 

          The conversation Lionskin Jasper was having stopped abruptly, said gem sighing and pinching the bridge of her nose as Citrine flashed her an apologetic look.

          Speridot's head shot up, glaring at the fourth person in the room. "What's he doing here?"

          Amir made a face, cringing. "You told them?"

          Lionskin slowly nodded, "I told them. And it seems like everyone's handling it like mature gems-"

          "Oh, you can both just go crawl back into the exit holes you popped out of!" Speridot said, addressing the other two Crystal Gems. She spun around, pushing her pointer finger against Citrine's chest, "He's supposed to stay in your room!"

          Citrine's face flushed, "Well, if you'd just listen to me for a second-!"

          "I NEED SOME AIR." Speridot announced to the room before vanishing out of the open doorway, letting the door swing shut behind her.

          Citrine paced the length of the floor, running his hands through his hair as he felt his physical form heating up. This was supposed to be a good trip! He could fix this! He just needed to…needed to…

          "Citrine," Lionskin said, pulling him out of his thoughts, "The carpet."

          He paused, looking down. The floor around his feet was starting to smoke, the beige synthetic fibers melting and clumping together from his high body temperature.

          "I need to-? Uh-? Ugh…bye."

          Citrine left the girls' motel room and entered the one next door. He dropped his own bag down and fell backwards onto the bed with his arms outstretched. If he let out a mildly embarrassing noise of frustration, then that was between him and the popcorn-textured ceiling.

          He hadn't seen Speridot outside anywhere. That meant there was nothing he could do but sit and wait for her to come back. Surely she wouldn't be gone too long, right?

2:30 a.m.

          Speridot stepped out of his and Lionskin's shared motel room. He closed the door carefully behind him, hearing the lock softly pop into place.

          The faint smell of chlorine. Moths danced around the flickering fluorescent lights over his head. In one direction, Speri could see a long line of windows with their blinds shuttered and a sign marking the entrance to the pool at the far end. Turning the other way, he noticed a familiar face about five rooms down.

          "Amir."

          The one human member of the Crystal Gems nearly jumped out of his skin, spinning around as Speridot walked up. He froze for a split second. 

          Probably still not used to my face.

          "Oh! Sorry, I…I didn't see you. Your name's Speridot, right?" Gem stuff was all still so new to him. Alien, for lack of a better word.

          "Speri's fine." Speridot folded his arms and tilted his head. "What are you doing?" 

          Amir motioned to the vending machine in front of them. Speridot studied the mix of soft drinks and bottled water. Looking closer, he could see a pop can wedged sideways; the tab at the top was pressed up against the glass.

          "My drink's stuck," Amir awkwardly explained, "I was about to go ask the owner if he could-"

          Speridot glanced over at the machine. The soda lurched sideways, freeing itself and falling to the bottom with a loud thunk. Amir crouched down, reaching his hand inside to grab his drink.

          "Um…thank you, Speri. Look, I'm sorry about Lionskin…"

          Speridot shrugged. "No problem." He mumbled, casually brushing a pink curl out of his face.

          One of the motel room doors opened behind them. Speridot knew it was Citrine without even having to turn around. The gem frowned, glaring down at the dandelions growing up through the cracks in the concrete.

          All of the drinks in the vending machine came crashing down. Cans and bottles tumbled out, spinning in circles at their feet. A Pepsi rolled into the parking lot.

          Amir rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, "I only really need one…"

          Speri lifted a cherry soda with his ferrokinesis, letting it hover in the air beside him. "I need to go." He said abruptly before walking off in the direction of the pool. He sped up as he passed his teammate, trying not to make eye contact.

          "Speri, hold on, I just want to talk to you-!"

          Speridot was now jogging and fighting the urge to cry at the same time. "There's nothing to talk about!" He lied. 

          "C'mon, man, I can help! Don't push me away like this!"

          They were both standing at the edge of the pool now.

          "Don't you get it?" Speridot said, looking back over his shoulder, "I'm trying to push you away!"

          Citrine stopped, inclining his head, "Why would-?"

          "Because!" Speri said, throwing up his hands, "If I act like an asshole, then Lionskin will throw me out of the Crystal Gems!"

          "...I'm not following."

          Speridot folded his arms, sighing as he stared down at the water rippling in the pool. "If I leave now, then I won't have to be here when Amir dies. I won't have to watch Lionskin try to cope and fail."

          "But how do you know-"

          "Because that's what happened to me."

          The can of Tizer hit the ground hard, rolling until it came to a stop against the tip of Citrine's shoe.

          Citrine fumbled for both the right words and the can at his feet. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

          "It's okay," Speridot said just a little too quickly, "It was a long time ago. I'm fine now."

          "You don't really seem fine to me."

          Speridot roughly ran the back of his hand across his eyes. He tightened his jaw. There was a long period of silence where Citrine waited for his teammate to make the next move.

          Speri inhaled, his breath shaking as he struggled not to cry. "His name was Adrian. He was my best friend, and he died. That's what humans do. That's what everybody does. And when Lionskin told us about her and Amir, I…I didn't know what to do. I just wanted to run away from it again."

          "Speridot, I…I know how you feel. I lost someone I cared about, too."

          "At least you had Onyx and Goshenite!" The tears were now openly streaming down one side of Speridot's face as he raised his voice, "I didn't have anybody after Adrian died! It was just me! Then I met you and Lionskin; and you? You're probably going to end up shattered! Or corrupted! Or something else that's equally terrible after you do some stupid shit because that would be just my fucking luck and-!" 

          "You care about me?" Citrine blinked, feeling his whole body heating up again. He was suddenly grateful to be standing on concrete.

          Speridot paused for a second, looking very much like a deer in headlights. "You're an idiot!" He sputtered, before turning on his heel and moving to storm off again. 

          "Speri, wait-" Citrine lunged forward, gently grabbing Speridot's wrist and spinning him to face him. The metal bars all around the pool area began to warp and rattle. "I'm never going to leave you like that." He told him softly, pushing a few strands of curly hair out of his face.

          Speridot's other eye became wet and glassy. "Don't make promises you can't keep." He said finally, before slipping his arm out of his grasp and quietly fleeing out into the darkened parking lot.

          Citrine wanted to follow him. He wanted to chase after him for the second time tonight; he wanted to know all the right words to say that would fix this sudden rift between them.

          But he didn't. 

          Citrine felt himself losing control of the body. He retreated willingly, letting White Labradorite take over. 

          Labradorite shook out all his limbs, reveling in the humid, summer air.

          He took a deep breath. He could feel Citrine still, curled up and quiet inside their mind. Flashes of memory filled him in on the situation.

          Speridot.

          Labradorite pushed Speri's abandoned drink into his and Citrine's combined gems before jogging out into the sea of cars.

          It wasn't that hard to find him- Labradorite just followed the muffled sound of sobbing. Eventually he spotted the mix of peridot and pink spinel tucked between a pick-up truck and the family falafel business van that Amir was currently borrowing from his father.

          "Hey." Labradorite said, sliding his back down the side of the van until he was sitting beside his friend.

          Speri lifted his head, his one eye red and puffy from crying. He sniffled. "...Labradorite?"

          White Labradorite couldn't help but grin at the sound of his name. It felt nice to be recognized. 

          "The one and only!" He paused, and Speridot could almost see the little loading wheel spinning around the top of his head, "Eh, well I guess not so much one or only, haha."

           "Don't give yourselves another crisis." Speridot told him as he hugged his knees closer to his chest.

          A brief, uncomfortable silence.

          "So…how long were you…alone?"

          Speridot made a face, leaning his head back to rest against one of the car doors. "As if you care." He said finally, avoiding eye contact.

          Labradorite flexed his hands. A minute went by as he searched for the right words. "I do care," He whispered, "...And not just because of Citrine, or whatever. We're friends just on our own, aren't we?" Speridot's eyes flickered over. Labradorite continued. "…Besides, I remember what it's like. Being alone. One time Yellow Diamond, he-! Ah-?…I mean…"

          Speri's right hand started to fidget without his input. "You'll never be alone again, though," He said, trying to be comforting, "You and Citrine…you're both always going to have each other. It's not the same as it is with me."

          "I mean, we could probably fit your gem in here with us. Maybe if I just scoot over a little."

          Speridot rolled his eyes playfully, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, "Stop cracking my facets."

          They both stopped talking for a while, quietly stargazing as the night went by. Gems didn't need to sleep, so it didn't really matter how long they sat there on the wet pavement. Speridot felt a familiar longing in his chest: a muffled, almost painful yearn for something he didn't know outside of weird visions and vague conversation.

          He pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, carefully thinking over what he wanted to say next.

          "...Labradorite?"

          "Yeah?"

          "Where is it?"

          "Hm?" Labradorite looked up from where he'd been watching ants skirt around rain puddles, "Where's what?"

          Speridot motioned up at the night sky with his chin. "Homeworld," he said, "Where is it from here?"

          Labradorite blinked, tilting his head back to stare up at the dozens and dozens of little white stars. He took a second to orient himself; searching for landmarks, figuring out the directionals, remembering all the little tricks he'd learned from his Diamond over the years…

          "There!" He told his teammate finally, reaching out with one arm to point at a section of space that didn't really look all that special from where Speridot was sitting. "That's Homeworld."

          Another long pause, both of them thinking about the weight of the far-off planet they were expected to call home.

          "...Thirty years."

          Labradorite looked over at his companion with a confused look on his face, "What?"

          Speridot stared down at his knees, his own expression carefully devoid of emotion. "Thirty years…" he began again, slower and softer this time, "It's been thirty years since I lost Adrian."

          Hey, Citrine! Is that a lot-?

          Yeah, it's…it's a lot.

          "I'm sorry, Speridot." Labradorite tried to comfort his friend with a hand on his shoulder. "I hear Citrine think about the mom sometimes. You both must miss your little human friends a lot."

          Speridot nodded, "Adrian would have liked you guys. He always thought gem stuff was cool."

          Labradorite paused, withdrawing his hand. He stared down at the white lines outlining each individual parking space, his face looking lost in abstract concentration. He mumbled something under his breath.

          Speri recognized that face. "What'd he say?"

          White Labradorite blinked and swallowed a few times, trying to ground himself as he faintly processed what both the gem inside and the gem outside were saying to him.

          His head raised sharply.

          "I, um…I think Citrine wants to see you now."

          Speridot looked over, "Oh! Uh, yeah, okay. Bye, I guess?"

          Labradorite flashed a thumbs-up, already letting his head fall back towards his chest. His eyes closed. He took a deep breath. 

          Their shared physical form flickered once, twice, and then Citrine was back.

          He blinked. Seconds went by as Speridot patiently waited for him to come around. Citrine slowly reached into his gem, withdrawing Speri's cherry soda.

          "...You dropped this."

          Speridot crouched down in front of Citrine, cupping the latter's face in his hands.

          "I'm sorry for what I said earlier." He told him, looking deeply into his friend's eyes. Pretty.

          Citrine laughed softly, "It's okay. I kind of like my exit hole, anyway. It's a good one. You saw it."

          Speri hummed, his pink thumb gently running circles across Citrine's cheek. The light, feathery touch made Citrine's insides twist into painful knots.

          "I care about you, Citrine. A lot."

          At first, Citrine didn't even realize what happened. Speridot quickly closed the distance between them. 

          The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but entire gem eras might as well have come and gone. Speri could have shattered him into hundreds of little pieces and Citrine would have been less surprised. 

          Somewhere inside their mind, Labradorite was loudly cheering him on. Something about quartzes being notoriously good kissers. 

          He wasn't sure how a guy who used to be a sword would know something like that- but he wasn't really eager to ask, either. Citrine didn't exactly feel like a good kisser; in fact, he felt more like a literal rock than he had in his entire life. 

          It ended just as fast as it began. Speridot pulled back, head tilting to the side as he studied Citrine in silence.

          "...Don't destabilize, 'k?"

          Citrine swallowed dryly, feeling like his mouth and throat were stuffed full of hot, itchy cotton. "Okay." He wheezed.

           That seemed to satisfy Speri. He stood up, dusting gravel off his legs before striding off in the direction of the pool. "Night, Citrine!" He called over his shoulder.

           Citrine felt himself start zoning out. He slumped against Amir's falafel van, blankly staring down at the pavement with wide, unfocused eyes.

           Breakfast tomorrow was going to be so fucking awkward.

[shatouto]

YOUR BABY VADER IS SO GOOD I NEED TO GIVE HIM ALL THE HUGS. please tell me he gets like. a weighted blanket or soft clothes. or! or! or! anakin and obi-wan go to the market because nobody knows that anakin was vader, and anakin gets some nice clothes in pretty colors and theyre very soft and he gets some ingredients for cooking and droid parts to play with and everything is nice and good for him

GOSH thank you!!! aww i love that idea sO MUCH just reading your prompt makes me feel warm fuzzy inside. im not sure which baby vader you’re referring to (because there are so many of them in my wips and i love it) but i’ll assume this is the au ive been writing with @obiwanobi. so pls enjoy this near 2k of tooth-rotting fluff; i took some liberties

who likes sweet things

The clinic smells like bacta, as clinics do. But instead of sterile durasteel walls, the floors are carpeted and the walls are painted and the windows are curtained and everything is multicolored and joyful. Across from Anakin sits a healer - a kindly woman, very small in stature, with large, gentle eyes, wispy hair and pointed ears. She chats happily with Obi-Wan while working in tandem with the medical droid to secure the prosthetic to Anakin’s elbow.

“...disheartening, isn’t it?” She chirps, her three-fingered hands deftly fastening bolts around the cap and manipulating the droid to screw down the simple plating. “I can’t count the number of innocent civilians who have come here to fit a new limb. Just last week, I constructed an entire exoskeleton for this young lady. Poor girl, so young.”

“That is so good of you. I am glad for the young lady to find you. She came to the right place.” Obi-Wan smiles. “Those of us who have some sense all know Healer Saada’s prostheses are of the highest quality in all of Coruscant.”

“Ah, young man. Flattery gets you nowhere. Have you learned nothing as a youngling?” Saada shakes her head at the Jedi, then turns her great eyes to Anakin, ears perking. “And you. You’re a rather quiet boy, aren’t you?”

Anakin presses his lips into a tight, blanched line. This woman may not be a Jedi any longer, but she is not Force-blind. He glances to Obi-Wan, breaths bated.

Obi-Wan rests a hand on his shoulder. “He’s quite shy, Healer Saada. Please do not worry.”

“Oh, poor thing.” The healer hops onto a moving droid. It rolls towards the counter, where she sorts out some bottles while asking, seemingly in an absent-minded manner, “Where did he come from?”

Anakin catches his gaze the moment Obi-Wan looks at him. Obi-Wan parts his lips, as if ready to lie.

“Tatooine,” Anakin mutters.

Astonishment freezes across Obi-Wan’s face, and Anakin turns away. The admission isn’t for her, though he supposes he doesn’t mind her knowing. She’s just a person. She doesn’t even know his name, or what he has done, or what the dead Sith Lord has made Anakin do to earn his demise. Obi-Wan does.

“So far away!” the healer comments lightly, turning around with a soft smile. “What a great trip you must have made.”

“Indeed he did. He lives here now,” Obi-Wan clarifies. Anakin opens his hand, and the healer places a stretchy ball in it. She instructs him to practice squeezing it to get used to the new artificial limb, before sending them off.

They exit the clinic and out under a vast starlit sky. Gentle winds whirl overhead as they climb into their speeder, heading for the usual park where Anakin takes his walk. The night has gotten cold, yet the darkness is unusually diluted. As they pass by downtown, music wafts up alongside the scent of butter and frying oil. Anakin looks down to see a sea of lights over a town square, and colorful awnings draped over kiosks of all sorts. There seem to be many people there, eating, laughing, hand in hand. He eyes them closely, fingers tightening on the side door of the speeder.

“It’s a celebration, Anakin,” Obi-Wan supplies, as they come to a stoplight. Anakin turns around, and his heartbeat ratchets up when Obi-Wan reaches over to brush a lock of hair from his forehead.

“What are they celebrating?”

“Harvest season. It’s an old tradition, I’ll give you that. Coruscant barely has a greenhouse on it, let alone agricultural land.” Obi-Wan chuckles, then quiets down into a thoughtful smile. “Though I suppose the election result is as good of an occasion to celebrate as any.”

“Election?” Anakin asks, just as they pass by a great billboard with the face of a brown-haired, brown-eyed woman in a night-purple cape. The speeder is going slow enough for him to decipher the words written beneath it. Obi-Wan keeps saying he’s a fast learner, so he tries to read at every turn. “Chancellor… A-Ame…” He frowns. “Amidala?”

“Very good, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s eyes crinkle at him for a second before returning to the path ahead. “Padmé Amidala is the new Chancellor now. It was a rather close call. She is well-loved by many people, but not quite so in the Senate.”

Half of those words mean almost nothing to Anakin. “Why?”

“Well,” Obi-Wan hums. “One could say the Senate hasn’t been loving its people so much, in a while.”

Obi-Wan grows pensive, as he oft does. The faint, warm light from below and the cool starlight from beyond color him in an otherworldly tint. His profile is startlingly delicate, from the slope of his nose to the soft fluff of his whiskers and beard. Even the flutter of his lashes is graceful. Then Anakin remembers he shouldn’t stare. His eyes strays towards the bright lights and jovial music beneath.

“...But I am hardly brave enough for politics,” Obi-Wan muses, after a stretch of silence. When he looks Anakin’s way it is with some tiredness in his small smile. “Say, Anakin. How would you like to stop by the night market, for a change?”

They lower their altitude as soon as Anakin nods his agreement. Obi-Wan parks their speeder, draws up Anakin’s hood, and takes his right hand. Anakin’s synthetic nerves light up, even though it’s only enough transmission for him to feel touch and not warmth, it being a very standard model of prosthetic. His face warms up under the hood of his cloak. He’s glad Obi-Wan doesn’t notice.

They let themselves be carried by the stream of the crowd, of parents jogging after excitable children toddling about with sweetmeats in their hands, sugar on their cheeks; of young couples, one’s arm around the other’s waist, sharing bites of fluffy sweet bread or sips of mulled wine. Light shines golden and amber through bottles of syrup and jars of honey, glitters on the crystal sugar and drizzled glaze on heaps of candies in open boxes. The smell is divine whenever they pass by a warm stall with steam bannering overhead.

Anakin shivers lightly, even though the crowd blocks most of the winds. Obi-Wan tugs at his hand. “Let’s get you something warm.”

He follows Obi-Wan. A paper cup is pressed into his hand, ample and warm against his skin. The drink smells and tastes sweet with a note of toasted bitterness, the texture creamy and rich on his tongue. There are floating white chunks of some sort of confectionery in there.

“What’s this?”

“Hot chocolate.” Obi-Wan raises his identical cup and touches it to Anakin’s. “Do you like it?”

”Yes,” Anakin says, and Obi-Wan’s smile warms his belly more than any hot drink.

They continue on their path, still a straight line from one end of the market to another. Anakin’s wide eyes travel from stand to stand: here a string of patchwork puppets, there a counter of carved wooden figures; and perfume vials, colorful figures (“It’s artisan soap, Anakin”), bouquets of everlasting tissue flowers tied in silk ribbons. There are clothes: soft robes in various colors, touted as “warm in winter and breezy in summer,” per the merchants; tunics with blossoming patterns embroidered at the collars or sleeve hems. There are kiosks of datatapes, illustrated by sparkling holograms of a High Republic castle, or a great speeder model, or even some holodrama character whose name Anakin can’t remember.

And then a booth takes his breath away. Glimmering under the light are shelves after shelves of mini household droids, custom-made transmitters, and a variety of artfully wired core processors. Replacement parts bathe in the blue glow of holograms depicting the corresponding droid models; and below all of this is a row of toolboxes of gleaming silver and shiny ivory, even iridescent inlays of mother-of-pearl. The booth seems to be one of a kind in the vast entirety of the market.

Anakin stands, transfixed. His fingers itch, and one of the tools begins to quiver and lift into the air, unbeknownst to the seller who has his back to it. He wants it. The thing will be his.

“Anakin? Anakin!” Obi-Wan’s hushed voice rustles by his ear, jolting him back to his senses.

The tool drops down with a small clang, barely audible in the noises of the festivity. Fear bursts coldly in Anakin’s chest - he shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t, his Master would be very unhappy if he found out his young foolish apprentice had tried to waste his time playing with droids again. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, bowing his head, even as Obi-Wan squeezes his hand.

“Do you want that?” Obi-Wan asks, softly.

Anakin peeks up. The empty paper cup is still slightly warm in his hand, and he crushes it absentmindedly, tightening and loosening his fingers just to have something to do. “I, uh…”

Obi-Wan’s hand covers his own, gently prying the crushed paper cup out from the curl of his fingers. “I would love to get it for you, if you want it. It’s the toolbox on the bottom shelf, second from the left, isn’t it?”

The light on Obi-Wan’s smile is a honeyed gold, pooling stars into his eyes, and Anakin is transfixed again, not quite by the tinkering booth this time. He looks down as his face warms and his heart still pounds hard, and slowly he nods.

—

They come back to Obi-Wan’s quarters with a small armful: a new set of robes in muted, ashen pink; a box of tools with carved handles that are probably more fancy than they need to be, but still practical enough; a new array of spices and condiments; and a great tin of “absolutely decadent powder for drinking chocolate, Anakin, I can’t believe I let you persuade me into buying this.”

“You are the one who likes sweet things,” Anakin counters, arranging the new addition into their pantry. Obi-Wan laughs aloud by his side.

“Now how could you possibly know that?”

“I cook. I know that.” Anakin shrugs, and admits, “...and Ahsoka said so.”

Obi-Wan’s brows shoot up. He’s quiet for a few seconds, but the wide smile that follows only seems all the more brighter for it. “Best friends now, aren’t you?”

“No,” Anakin huffs and closes the pantry door. He doesn’t say more. Ahsoka gave him her old voicebook plug-in and lent him her comics; in exchange, he would pack her this spicy meat stew whenever she needed to leave for some time. They struck a fair deal, is all.

Obi-Wan doesn’t say more, either. They settle on the couch, Anakin almost rushing to fish out the toolbox from its paper bag. Finally having two hands to work with again, he examines it with zeal. It’s a good set of tools, he knows it; he hasn’t been allowed to touch these things for years, but he still knows. It’s in his blood. He can still wire standard circuit boards for protocol droids (the slightly outdated type) with his eyes closed; can definitely assemble a cleaning-type mouse droid from scratch if he’s allowed to scavenge for parts. He smiles down at the lacquered handles and the durasteel glint, picking up and balancing each microscrew, each hexagonal wrench, each tiny plier.

“...I hope it was enjoyable for you,” Obi-Wan speaks up, all of a sudden.

Anakin turns to him, not bothering to wipe off his smile. “It was.” He chews on the inside of his cheeks. “I’ve never had so many things. Thank you.”

Obi-Wan studies him for a long moment, more intent than he ever did. By the look on his face, Anakin expects him to say many things, but he doesn’t. He just pats Anakin’s elbow, where the prosthetic is joined, and murmurs, “You’re welcome.” His eyes have a moist sheen to them, smiling though he is.

[salandition]

Its,,,,, so basic but Maybe Leon and Reader are training out near Circhester and get caught in a snowstorm? They find an old cabin amongst the trees and tHeReS OnLy OnE BED and they have to keep warm,,,, (Love your writing btw)

A/N: yes, the classic trope. I will gladly take a bite out of it :) Also this one kind of really dragged on, so it’s a bit long lol took me way too long to finish. if any of you recognize the title, ur a real one 

Chilly Down (Good Times, Bad Food)

Leon x Reader

--- --- ---

You feel like you should have expected something like this to happen. Despite what a great guy Leon is and how fun it is to hang out with him, he was sort of a magnet for trouble. He had an ability to draw in unfortunate events wherever he went it seemed. 

So you’re not completely surprised when you and Leon are hit with an unexpected snowstorm while training together outside of Circhester. Are you a bit miffed about it? Yes. But surprised? No, not really. 

“Training with the Champion is great and all,” you yell over the storm, one arm in front of your face to uselessly protect you from the snow, and your other hand is holding tightly onto Leon’s. Grabbing hold of him was almost more important than making it out of the storm- if you lost sight of Leon during this, you might never see him ever again. He’d find some way to end up on an undiscovered continent, you just know it. “But I think I’ll pass on your invitations after this!” You finally finish, continuing to trudge through the snow with him. 

“You know, usually I’d argue, but I think that’s fair,” Leon laughs, and then immediately shuts his mouth as a rush of cold air hits him and tries to travel down his throat. He hacks a few times- a few ice crystals probably hit his uvula or something- and then you feel a harsh tug on your hand. “Look!” 

Leon points toward a dim but very much real yellow glow in the distance. Immediately, the two of you head for it- desperate for any shelter you could be given. Part of you was doubtful, wondering if it was just some luminescent Pokémon or a random streetlight. Though even a streetlight would be better than nothing- that would mean you were back on the route’s path and could find your way back to Circhester if you were lucky. 

But it wasn’t a random streetlight. Thank whatever Gods that may exist- the light was coming from a big, sturdy wooden cabin, a sign being viciously blown by the wind read that it was even a hotel. What are the odds? 

“This is literally the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Leon yells as you both make a run for the cabin. 

“I believe it!” 

You almost fall with the amount of force that you and Leon enter the cabin with- both frantic to get out of the biting cold. You actually do fall, tumbling into a roll on the ground and snow scattering everywhere as Leon fumbles for the door and slams it shut before you bring too much of the storm inside. 

Heavily breathing, you don’t even notice the lady behind the counter before she coughs. 

Leon looks up with a beaming grin, laughing as he huffs and puffs, leaning against the door. “Hell of a storm, innit?” 

Not the smartest thing to say, but the lady gives out an amused snort anyway. 

“I’m assuming the two of you will be purchasing a room?” She tilts her head with a gleam in her eye. Something tells you that business isn’t going so well if she’s working in a hotel in the middle of nowhere and she’s still charging when you’re both obviously stranded- but hey, that’s life. You look up to Leon as you stay on the floor, hands on your chest as you continue to try and catch your breath. 

“Let me see,” you huff and wheeze, “those Champion benefits,” another huff, “big guy.” 

It’s not that funny but Leon laughs so hard that he starts to slide down the door, knees buckling beneath him, and you think that’s really funny so you start laughing too, rolling on the floor. The lady watches all the while, and if you notice a flying Rotom recording you while you and Leon lose your minds over nothing, you don’t say anything about it. 

Once Leon manages to shuffle over and pay the woman at the desk after your post-adrenaline delirium, she gladly shows you over to your room. You’re suddenly feeling exhausted after trudging through a snowstorm, so you don’t pay much attention to what she says as she leads you there- but it’s not like you need to. Leon does most of the talking as he keeps you steady with an arm around your shoulder. 

You don’t notice the look the woman gives you, nor do you notice the look Leon gives back. All you feel is the comforting rub of his hand on your arm, and it’s nice. 

“Enjoy your stay, you two,” is the only thing you pick up from her before the door is shut and you’re left alone in your newly-purchased hotel room.

There’s an important detail here, and that detail is the fact that there’s only one bed, and you’ve never shared a bed with Leon before. Sure, you’re friends, but you’ve never been the cuddling-type of friends. This detail is completely missed by both of you as luck would have it because as soon as you and Leon manage to remove your clothes, you’re out like a pair of lights the second your backs hit the mattress. 

No, the problem and important detail doesn’t really announce itself in your mind until morning comes. Well- afternoon, actually, if you managed to look at a clock. 

When you awake- at first, it’s not strange. It’s not strange until you recognize the hand around your waist, hair in your face, and legs entwined with yours- which is definitely not something that’s a usual occurrence for you. Recognizing all of these details, your eyes snap open, and you begin to take in the situation as it is. 

Leon and you both stripped down to your underwear, definitely cuddling, and definitely in the only bed available in the room as far as you can see. And from what you can tell with how the walls shake and the windows vibrate, the storm is still going strong. 

Right. 

“Leon,” your voice is hoarse from sleep as you smack your lips, your hand lifting up to shake Leon’s arm that’s wrapped tightly around your waist. “Leon, you daft idiot, wake up,” 

“Mmmgh,”

“I’ll… I’ll steal all your Pokémon, and run off to another country. Wake up, Leon.” The threat is creative, but lacking any real malice behind it as you continue to shake Leon’s body. A few more rough shakes and he finally blinks his eyes open. 

“Where… where am I?” He mumbles almost incoherently as he blinks a few more times, lifting himself up on his elbows as he takes in his surroundings. A bit of drool falls from the corner of his mouth. 

It’s kind of cute, but also kind of gross, and Leon is still kind of on top of you in nothing but his underwear. You begin to wonder if he’s ever going to notice- but finally, his expression seems to come to life as his mind wakes up and he looks up and down your body again. 

“...Right. Yeah, my bad.” Grunting, Leon finally rolls off you and to the other side of the bed. You want to laugh at the pinkness of his ears and cheeks if you weren’t vividly aware you probably looked exactly the same, so you bite your tongue for now. Apparently, the both of you have agreed to ignore your partial nudity for now as Leon holds his head in his hands, keeping his gaze off you as he asks, “why on Galar am I so tired?” 

“Maybe we were supposed to die,” you snicker, sitting up yourself and bringing up the covers as you do, trying to stay somewhat-modest. “And now our brains are realizing we’re actually alive and it doesn’t know what to do.” 

Despite himself, Leon giggles. “Yeah, maybe.” 

The window shakes from more pressure of the storm outside. It gets your attention for sure, and you realize that you should probably check your phone to see when this storm would even end. Very, very slowly, you shuffle out of bed, analyzing the floor and looking at how scattered your clothes are. It takes your tired mind a minute to find your bag, but when you do, it’s not good news. 

Of course there’s no service. 

“Ugh,” you groan again. “This sucks.” 

“Put on some clothes,” Leon says from the bed and you roll your eyes.

“They’re drenched, mate, and so are yours,”

Leon’s head snaps up from his hands at that. “Really?” You’ve got no reason to lie about that but he scatters toward his clothes anyway, feeling the damp and dirty texture of them with his own hands, as if that would change their outcome. You’re definitely not checking out his butt as he bends over to pick them up, because that would be silly and childish. 

Very nice view, though. 

Leon sighs. “Of course. Don’t suppose this hotel has a store of any sort?” 

“Good one,” you laugh. “Probably not, but I’ll check the bathroom for robes-“

“Oh, let me do it,”

“Why?”

“I’ve really got to pee, mate,” 

“Right on, then,” you point him toward the direction of the bathroom and Leon immediately makes himself sparse. You can only laugh as you watch him go, and while you wait, you gather all of your wet clothes and start to hang them all around the room so they might dry while you wait out the storm. 

“Good news,” Leon comes out of the bathroom and you look over your shoulder, seeing him hold up two white, fluffy robes. He tosses one your way and you catch it easily, wrapping yourself up quickly and Leon follows suit. “So, roomie,” Leon raises a brow at you, hands on his hips, “what do we do now?”

You wave your phone that’s in your hand. “We got no service, so we should probably check in with that lady who was at the desk if she knows anything about the weather reports.” Your eyes move to look at the bed. “And maybe you should talk her into changing us to a room with two beds.” For both of your sakes. 

“Right,” Leon nods. “Let’s go, then.”

More bad news, though. The lady didn’t know anything about the weather other than the fact that these storms usually lasted a day or two, so, in her own words, ‘if you’re lucky, you won’t be here much longer, but I can’t assure that. Also, you’re charged per night, per room.’ 

And all the rooms in this shotty little hotel only had one bed, so the idea of getting privacy at night was a lost cause. You weren’t the biggest fan of wasting your money or Leon’s on two rooms, anyway, especially since the owner seemed to be somewhat rude. So that’s nice. 

‘At least she had food’, Leon had told you positively, and you suppose he was right. She had a rather weak list of a menu, but ‘at least there was a menu’ so you wouldn’t have to eat whatever berries you had in your bag. The two of you seemed to dance around the fact that you were going to most likely be sleeping partly nude again tonight, except this time you’ll both be a lot more awake and conscious of it. You distracted yourself with the mediocre food that tasted mildly burnt or undercooked, no in-between, and playing with what Pokémon could fit in your small hotel room instead until both of your eyes were drooping and you couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer. 

“So.” You stand on one side of the bed, Leon on the other. Both of you stare at each other with your hands on your hips. 

“So,” Leon nods. 

“Should we… make rules?” Looking down at the bed and up at Leon, you know that technically you guys could try to stay on your side of the bed and probably not touch each other all night. 

But you were keenly aware that this man is a cuddler and you had a subconscious habit to scoot over to the warmest thing while you slept, so it seemed like physical interaction was going to happen one way or the other.

“I think that’s a bit pretentious,” he scratches his chin and shrugs. His nonchalance is downplayed by the heat on his cheeks and the sweat on his temple. “It’s fine if we… Cuddle. Right?” 

You suppose so. “I guess,” you purse your lips. “Typically friends cuddle with clothes on, though. And these robes are too awkward to sleep in.” 

“I mean, we did it before.” 

That’s true, but again, both of you were a bit delirious. But you can’t really argue with that, and you’re getting tired of dancing, so you nod and sigh. With a burst of courage, you square your shoulders, narrowing your eyes. Leon looks at you strangely before he squawks, his hands flying to cover his face when you remove your robe, the material falling and pooling around your feet. 

“Some warning!” He chokes and coughs. You laugh through your embarrassment, quickly getting on the bed and under the covers. 

“Come on. We could be sitting here all night. Lose the robe,” you cheer him on and Leon glares at you through the spaces of his fingers. “Lose the robe! Lose the robe!” 

“Stop!” He laughs and you giggle along, but it slowly ebbs and abruptly comes to a halt when Leon does, in fact, lose the robe. It’s too much to ask for him to not notice how you stare, so of course he does- humming proudly as he snuggles under the covers. “Speechless?” Leon smiles. 

“Don’t push it, I saw you ogling me the first time,” 

He coughs when you smirk. 

“Fine. Come here and cuddle me if you’re so smart.”

“Fine, I will!”

“Do it.”

“I’m gonna.”

The two of you lay under the covers, Leon’s arms open and beckoning, and you- frozen, not moving an inch. It’s not until he gives you a cocky look and starts to wiggle forward that you finally bite your lip and shove down your ego, rolling over to his side. It should be awkward, and it is, but only because the two of you somehow manage to fit together perfectly and that’s a bit odd. Your head resting against his collarbone, his arms wrapped snugly around your body, your legs entwined in a comfortable and fitting manner. It all happens almost instantaneously as if you’d both done this for years, as if it was a habit.

“Not that bad, right?” Leon murmurs in your ear and hums when your fingers trail little patterns across the skin of his waist and back. You mostly just did it to ease your nerves, not realizing how intimate the action was, but you figure it’s fine if Leon seems to like it. His hands explore your hair and the nape of your neck, the feeling making you curl further against him with a sigh. 

“Not bad,” you whisper. “Still odd.”

He hums but doesn’t prod the conversation along any further.

Several odd minutes pass, your breathing slowing as your body relaxes against Leon’s. Right as you find yourself on that warm, lulling cusp of falling asleep, there’s a brushing feeling against the top of your head. Leon’s body shuffles and lowers on the mattress and you’re about to whine a complaint about him moving around so much- but you’re silenced by the feeling of lips against your forehead. 

The hand that was previously teasing the skin of your neck trailed up and lightly grazed your cheek as Leon’s lips moved across your forehead to your brow. The actions are relaxing, yes, but your body tenses regardless because friends don’t do this. 

“Leon,” your whisper is like a shout compared to the dark silence in the room. Leon freezes up instantly at the sound of it and when you open your eyes, his head is angled in a way with his lips still pressed against your temple so you can’t see his expression. “...What are you doing?” You lick your lips nervously.

“...I thought you were sleeping.” Is all he has to say. You can’t say anything in reply to that because it’s fairly obvious to the both of you that no, you weren’t sleeping. “Um.” The air that leaves his mouth is hot against your skin.

From where your head rests, snug against his chest, you can almost feel the thundering pace of his heart more than you hear it. You idly wonder if it’s possible for hearts to beat in sync with one another. 

“Leon,” you say again when he doesn’t offer any explanation. He sucks in a shaky breath, his arm propping up from under him as he finally comes into your field of view; his eyes downcast and refusing to meet yours as he scoots away from you and lays his head back on his pillow. His hand lowers from your cheek down to your waist, touching your skin and then jolting back and insecurely moving against his chest, instead. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, “that was a bit creepy.” 

You remember the feeling of his heartbeat, and you don’t think that’s creepy at all. 

You reach your hand forward, tenderly cupping Leon’s jaw as he had done to you. Finally, he looks at you- his golden irises shining like glowflies in the darkness. The moment held between you now is a stark contrast to the harsh snowstorm outside- if you strain your ear, you’d be able to hear the whistling of the wind and the creaking of the trees. 

For now, all you can hear is your heart in your ears and the voice in your head saying kiss him, kiss him, kiss him. 

You’re aware that friends don’t do this. They don’t look at each other like this and they don’t press their lips against each other so softly- meekly. Lovingly. Maybe if you’re experimenting, maybe if you’re a different type of friend. But you and Leon aren’t like that, you’ve never been like that. 

So if things are different now, that’s something that’s a treasured secret between you, him, and the snow.