#con man au

[hairmetal666]

Chrissy sits at the usual patio table, a sweet tea waiting for him at the seat across from her. On spotting him, her face morphs into an impish grin. “I hear you’re a basketball player, now.”

Eddie sighs hard, slumping back in his chair. “I’ve never been more miserable in my life.”

Chrissy’s laugh is the light tinkling of crystal. “You can tell them no!”

“Seriously, never again,” he chuckles.

“Are you any good?”

“A disaster. If I ever do anything cool, it’s entirely by accident.”

She tries to hide how hard she’s laughing behind her glass, but she’s making little snorts that have her shoulders shaking, and soon Eddie is losing it too. They giggle together until the waitress comes by to take their order. It’s the girl Jason messed around with, and Eddie can’t quite look at her.

Once the waitress leaves, Chrissy fixes him with a level stare that has a swirl of nerves snagging at his gut. “So,” she says.

“So?”

“Steve Harrington.”

“I’m familiar with his work.” The thought of how familiar makes his ears burn.

“Uh huh,” She deadpans.

“Nothing is going on with us.”

“Sure. Cause not even three weeks ago you were very publicly all over each other.”

“It was just flirting.” He’s trying his hardest not to blush horribly, because they did flirt constantly in front of everyone before abruptly stopping.

“It’s not just the flirting, Eddie. You have to know how he looks at you.”

“He looks at me?” He hates that he asks, that his voice goes high.

“You know those crane machines? Where you try to win a toy? He looks at you like you’re the prize.”

Surprise! Chapter 12 of Forever is the Sweetest Con is up now on ao3!

[laddess-865]

Is Chilchuck a shota or not?

I’ve seen a lot of people accuse Chilchuck of being a shota and the people who like him to be shota-cons. I decided to ask some of my friends who have never watched the show or read the manga what they thought about him. All three of these friends are well versed in manga, anime, and the usual tropes in them.

Overview: Even on first glance, Red doubted that Chil was a shota. After I gave Red Chil’s back story of being 29, married, and a father they decided that he was indeed not shota. Yellow jumped in on the convo and asked if Chil’s actions were like a shota, to which I told them that they were not as he drinks, smokes, and cusses. Red could see why someone could mistake him for shota at first glance, but with his background he doesn’t resemble a shota at all. I then compared him to Honey Senpai (who is an actual shota) saying that the two are wildly different. Blue then jumped in to say that Chil being a shota is insane as he is just a short human, stating that the fact that half foots are seen as “children” is just a form of racism in the dungeon meshi universe.

In conclusion, Chilchuck is not a shota even at first glance. He is not comparable to the “2000 years old but looks like they’re 5” shota and loli stereotypes.

I do not support shota cons or loli cons. I merely wanted to make a point. I do not want them interacting with me.

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖 "Hydra Sanatorium"

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

Tags: a/b/o, medical institutionalization, cognitive disability, made up kinky medical things, diapers, catheters, non-con medical procedures, restraints, forced wetting, hurt/comfort, humiliation, kind!Careworker Steve, bratty!Patient Bucky, alpha Steve, omega bucky, dub con everything due to a/b/o biology, dry humping, forced orgasm, masturbation, implied self harm, orgasm therapy, age difference (19/30), omorashi

Summary: Bucky is a troubled teen coping with the traumatic transformation of late-onset omega puberty.

Steve's been developing too much of an attachment, he knows he has. But he might not have the self control to remain detached anymore.

Chapter 1: A Weekend in the Pens

Chapter 2: Holding It in

Chapter 3: A Catalyst

Chapter 4: Release Therapy

Chapter 5: Excited Catatonia with Aggression

Chapter 6: Inflation Therapy

Chapter 7: Pheromonal Oil Massage

Chapter 8: Sensory Reset Therapy

Chapter 9: Persistent Genital Arousal

Epilogue I.

[dilfsonic]

He’s come pretty far, alright??

[williamschenk-banks]

Chainshipping Prompt #2:

Adam’s ghost full on haunts the shit out of John until John agrees to leave Lawrence alone.

But wait, there’s more.

Adam was never dead, he just made a deal with Hoffman to smuggle him out of the bathroom to fuck with John. Dead guy in the bathroom is actually some no name asshole who got Hoffman’s coffee order wrong. (He’ not being petty, honest). He and Hoffman work together to con John.

Pro for Hoffman, Larry is out of the picture now, and he doesn’t have to worry about competition for John’s legacy. Con: he has to fucking work with Adam. Why is this guy so insufferable. (If he starts to be reminded of Angelina because of Adam’s terrible taste in music that’s no one’s business but his own. Also he’s kinda lowkey pissed that Amanda tried to kill this guy. Like WTF Mandy, Adam was never going to be John’s favorite anyway).

Adam meanwhile see’s no con’s only pro’s.

He get’s to mess with Hoffman (man is unintentionally the funniest fucker alive - I mean, who thinks that the best way to flirt with the guy is to try to drown him? Not fucking Adam, that’s for sure), He get’s to fuck with Kramer (Thank you John Rogers for giving him Leverage - AKA his conning bible, even if Hoffman think’s it’s stupid as hell), and he get’s to get Larry away from that guy. If he’s stuck in a roommate comedy with Hoffman until he can actually tell his doctor he’s alive, again, Adam see’s no cons in that.

Lawrence is sure in for a shock when he wakes up in an unfamiliar apartment to Adam and Hoffman in a screaming match while FBI agent Mr. supposed-to-be-dead!Peter Strahm is listening to them with his head in his hands, every so often shaking his head. “Why did I have to fall in love with the fucked up idiot? Why did I do that to myself?” —> Or Hoffman really thought the best way to clue Lawrence into Adam’s very alive state was to drug him and bring him back to his apartment.

[assortedvillainvault]

Malefecent had fallen to Dr.facilier charming nature.He also finds Malefecent Attractive and suggests they go on a date to know each other little better.

Oooh this one took a bit of thinking! I don't think they'd become a full on pair, but a little fling wouldn't hurt...

Maleficent x Dr. Facilier: A Risky Venture

- It wasn't unusual for new villains to get a crush on Maleficent. Like – yes hello, water is wet, the Mouse won’t shut up, and the Mistress Of All Evil is the most attractive thing on legs, what else is new?

- It was, however, MUCH rarer for a newcomer to actually approach the elder villainess and make a move.

- To date only ten of the 127 Disney villains had ever tried, to varying degrees of success.

- Dr Facilier wasn’t one to simply sidle up and try his luck. At least not without a game plan and some research.

- Simply asking around got him some sly smirks, a huffy eye roll from Hades and the sort of glazed-over look from Jafar that spoke of things he’d really rather not hear about. Ursula cackled enough through her drink that he put her in the same ‘don’t ask’ camp as Jafar. Queen Grimhilde didn’t even deign to respond, and the Horned King simply glared and mimed breaking his neck for asking.

- The other five that had ever tried were apparently smote into craters for the audacity. He cast a look over the singed walls and decided to let those lie.

- He slid into a seat at an empty table, feeling Shadow pool around his feet under the long cloth. Idly, he let his cards flick and tumble through his fingers, deftly shuffling and reshuffling.

- The Loa were off the table. A. Because a date definitely counted as ‘something for himself’. B. Because he could hardly trust them when dealing with something so open ended as a crush. And c. Because he knew she would perceive him as lesser for depending on their help.

- He’d always had good eyes. Able to see what most others couldn’t. And while he would never claim to see through every disguise...from day one he’d been able to see the way fire and scales stretched and twisted under her skin – the way the lights in the room dimmed and flickered under her smile, how her cloak was full of raven feathers and vicious thorns. He could see the way her presence lanced through a crowd like a silent lightning strike – all ozone and anticipation under the thin blanket of night.

- When Hades had leaned over and clicked his jaw shut with a smirk, slyly asking “First time?” it’d taken all he had not to slip into the shadows – donning his signature charm like a shield.

- He blinked down at his hands, frowning at the faces of cards he’d laid down by habit. The devil, the seven of swords, the tower…

- A perfect talon clicks onto the tower. His heart thuds into his mouth as he looks up (and up and UP, hell she’s tall-) at the amused, elegant smile of one Mistress of All Evil.

- Hahaha shit.

- At a loss, he flings himself into his tried and tested talent: talking.

- “Evening, ma’am.” He tips his hat and tried desperately not to overthink the amused upturn of her lips, finding it to be much the same expression as a cat playing with mice. “To what do I owe the pleasure, stopping by little ol’ me?” Should he try and kiss her hand?? It was right there, he should probably look into how to regrow fingers just in case- “Is there...” he swallows. “Anything I can, help you with?”

- She chuckles, and he feels it run though his bones as if he were stood right next to a brass band’s drummers. Shadow has a vice grip on his ankles under the table and he tries so hard not to remember being dragged to his grave, tries not to kick his one remaining friend as Maleficent’s yellow eyes bore into his violet ones and he swears he might know how Hook feels – sized up by a reptile willing and eager to swallow him whole-

- “Plenty, little doctor.” She smiles, slow and sharp. He swallows thickly, fighting not to grin. “if you feel...up to the challenge?”

- He feels his lips drag up into an ill advised grin. “Yes ma’am~”

[herbalinz-of-yesteryear]

Doodles. My star wars oc Edessa and Kilindi 🩵 and a certain evil little meow meow 😹 Not-happening AU

Costume models: Edessa—Elodie Yung, Kilindi Matako—Deborah Ann Woll.

Lord Maul’s comic stand inspired by this <x> The comics in his stands are: Star Wars: Darth Maul (2000), and Darth Maul: Death Sentence.

[calamari-minecraft-corner]

So I have made a chart of the three AUs I fully fleshed out for how mentally stable each C!Dream is!

All completely sane and normal yep yep

[pwofessow-boxweitnew]

Doodle, they are my favorite superheros and I want them to be friends <3

Edit: I didn't really bother with references with most of this so Wordgirl's hair ended up way too light and it's bothering me So Much and I can't change it because I merged a bunch of layers after finishing aufhdfhgh

Bonus: an unfinished two brains and doctor octopus bc of @professor-boxleitner 's tags on my previous spider-man post ^v^!

The Simpsons "money can be exchanged for goods and services" meme but it's Doc Ock convincing Two Brains he'll get cheese if he helps him with his goals

[hairmetal666]

Between jobs and back home—Eddie's real home in Hawkins, Indiana—he works on repairing the trailer where he grew up with his uncle and fixes up the man’s old beater of a truck. He’s doing the latter when his phone pings with a notification he’s been waiting half his life for.

It’s the obituary for Richard Stephen Harrington IV, husband of Miriam and father of Stephen. 

He knows the Harrington’s. Not personally. But they’re from Indianapolis, only about an hour away, so Eddie’s gathered intel on them for years. He knows that Richard Harrington was a Wall Street finance guy who struck it big and then got into real estate development. He knows that his company’s numbers don’t quite add up, that he came through the 2008 crash suspiciously unscathed. Probably the most important thing he knows about Richard Harrington, though, is that it was his company that put Eddie’s uncle out of a job during his freshman year of high school. 

Harrington Holdings LLC bought the factory where Wayne worked with all kinds of pretty promises of making improvements and keeping it open. Within six months it was closed, and half a year later converted to a pharmaceutical research and production facility. 

The Munsons weren’t doing great before Wayne was laid off, and after. Well, they could only afford the lot rent at Forest Hills with Eddie working part-time flipping burgers at the Burger Chef, and—when that wasn’t enough—supplementing by selling drugs to his classmates. Really takes a toll on the GPA when you work every weeknight and spend your weekends at parties peddling weed. 

Anyway, fuck the Harringtons, is what he’s saying.

Coming your way this Saturday!

[nerosdayinanime]

"Im worried what people would think of you then, that you're just a personal whore or something- i don't want to ruin your reputation.."

"Are you kidding? 'My dick was so good i got promoted-' Thats the biggest flex i can think of!"

"Well, you're certaintly enthusiastic about this."

[cable-knit-sweater]

Checkmate, I couldn’t lose

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Rating: T

Word count: 1.1k

Tags: Modern AU, rich Steve Rogers, con man Bucky Barnes, idiots in love

Summary: Bucky is a con man, ready to steal all of Steve’s money so he’ll be set for life. Problem is…Steve’s onto him from the start, but plays along anyway.

Title from Mastermind by Taylor Swift

So I told you none of it was accidental And the first night that you saw me, nothing was gonna stop me I laid the groundwork and then saw a wide smirk On your face, you knew the entire time You knew that I'm a mastermind And now you're mine Yeah, all you did was smile 'Cause I'm a mastermind

Written for @allcapsbingo card: AC1005 | Adoptable: Inheritance

Bucky does what he has to, to get by. He’d always been good at bullshitting his way out of things, but when he ended up on the streets as a teenager, he needed to step it up to survive. It started out with petty theft, distracting people so he could sneak a wallet or jewelry away from them to give him some cash to eat and to sleep somewhere. But he learned quickly, had some people teach him more skills, and now, in his mid twenties, he only did the petty stuff to get a little thrill. 

He’d pretended to be so many different people, pretended to have so many different jobs. He’d played some long cons and cashed in. But he was getting to a point where he wanted it to stop. His current funds would last him a couple of years, maybe. Bucky needed one big job to set him up for life. 

Finding the right mark took some time, but he’d finally found him. Steve Rogers was a well-known millionaire, coming from a prominent family. His parents had passed and had left him the bulk of his money in his inheritance, but he didn’t seem too attached to it, ending up in the society pages often enough wearing expensive clothes and accessories, driving expensive cars, stories of women who’d dated him that recounted extravagant dates and gifts. On top of that, he donated large amounts of money to charity each year. 

So, he was someone that spent his money easily, and loved a good sob story. He was perfect. It didn’t hurt that he was gorgeous too. Bucky knew just how to part him from a large chunk of that  inheritance. And it wouldn’t take much more than batting his eyelashes and crying a little on cue. This was gonna be it. He was going to be set for life once he was done, he was sure of that. 

He hadn’t been ready for Steve. He’d played it so cool, so perfectly, when they met and he could see the instant attraction in Steve’s eyes. It had seemed so simple then.

But nothing about Steve was simple. Bucky had to tell himself repeatedly why he was doing this, to not lose himself in the game and forget that this wasn’t real.

Steve made it so hard to remember that. He was kind, smart, wonderful. Bucky found himself imagining what it could be like, to actually be on Steve’s arm for real. But that was never going to happen. This Bucky, the Bucky Steve spent so much time on, listened to, laughed with, loved on - it was a character, not who he really was, even if he could feel himself slip sometimes.

Even if Steve could actually like him for who he was, that never was going to happen. Not if he knew why Bucky was here in the first place. He was so stupid. The first thing he’d learned was to not feel sorry for the mark, let alone feel this much for one.

The only thing he could hope for now, was that he got some results soon, so he could leave. So he could leave before it became impossible to do that without breaking his own heart.

Some nights, he felt like it was already too late for that.

Bucky was different. It had taken Steve a moment to realize that, too distracted by a lean body and brilliant grey-blue eyes. Meeting him at the benefit for one of his many charities had felt like faith. Steve was done with dating around and ready to settle down, and at first Bucky seemed like he was interested in Steve for Steve, not his bank account. 

He knew how people saw him. As a rich, spoiled playboy. Pretty, but not the sharpest tool in the shed. He was fine with that, mostly, although it was always disappointing when people didn’t see through that or paid too little attention to him to get that far, too focused on what he could do for them rather than who he was.  

Bucky was different. He was focused on Steve.

There was only one problem. He was too focused on Steve. He knew too much about Steve, played too much into his weaknesses. He was too perfect. Once he’d noticed, he started paying attention to everything Bucky did. It didn’t take long to pick up on the fact that it was all an act. 

He was sure Bucky hadn’t noticed, but Steve saw him slip up a couple of times, things he said or did just not matching up with the picture he was trying to create. It had made Steve smile a little. Bucky was smart, good at what he did. Steve was just too used to people trying to get something out of him, that he could see right through it. But he liked Bucky, so he let him play his game, just to see what would happen.

There wasn’t much he had to lose here. If Bucky managed to con him out of his money, that was fine. He cared little for it, he’d find a way to live the rest of his life without it. If Bucky didn’t manage to win this little game, Steve at least could have some fun while spending time with him, before Bucky probably would give up and disappear as quickly as he’d turned up. 

He was sweet, funny, kind. Steve was more than willing to lose all of his money just for more time with that Bucky. He just hoped that Bucky felt the same. Steve was probably setting himself up for heartbreak. But he was having fun, playing along, and enjoyed every minute with Bucky when he was being himself. 

Steve tried to show Bucky what it could be like without the con, to show him that there could be something there between them. That it could be real, if he wanted to, if he wanted to give up on playing this little game. It was hard to find the balance between showing him that, and making Bucky too suspicious. If that happened before Bucky was ready, if Bucky figured out that Steve knew what he was doing, he’d probably run for the hills.

Maybe Bucky would never be ready, but a Steve had hope. Maybe Bucky would break his heart, maybe he’d con Steve out of everything. But Bucky was worth it, he thought. Two could play this game, and Steve wasn’t planning on losing.

[howlingday]

Makima: Hello jaune I see you need a gun and since you already dated my sister I trust you with that dem- I want to say gun.

Jaune: What the hell is that?

Ruby: IT'S! SO! COOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL!

[admiralsweko]

Rhyiona Week 2023 Day Five

Prompt: Legend

Cross My Heart

You, I can make you love me

Even when I take it all -- Always by Great Good Fine OK

He’d heard the stories. They echoed in his ears, even now, as he delved deeper into the woods. According to the tales Rhys had known most of his life, somewhere deep in this forest lay a spring, a wonder to behold and rumored to be the home of a nymph. It was said that kings and paupers alike used to visit the sacred site, offering any and all for a single boon.

Now, he was making the journey. 

Lost in thought, he fingered the patch over his left eye idly. He prayed that the stories were true. He had spent the last of his meager savings in an effort to track down this legend. Pulling his compass from the pocket of his doublet, he confirmed he was still headed in the correct direction. A short time later, he came upon his destination. 

Nature had reclaimed the marble columns that arched majestically around the perimeter of the little clearing, draping the solid white stone with choking green vines. Stepping around a toppled-over pillar, he surveyed the area. Bathed in sunlight streaming in from a break in the dense tree canopy overhead, the spring was an oasis of natural beauty. Patches of scarlet wild flowers dotted the thick carpet of grass underfoot, even sprouting in the cracks between the moss spotted boulders that lined the cerulean waters of the spring.

“Hello?” He called out, not truly expecting an answer. None came. 

Sliding his pack from his shoulder, he crouched to dig inside the leather bag. From it, he withdrew the items necessary to complete the summoning ritual. 

Atop the flat surface of one of the rocks, he laid out the assortment: a small sachet, a pair of old coins, and a scrap of paper. With trembling fingers, he untied the knot that held the sachet closed. Spreading the leather out, a grim menagerie of objects were disclosed. He flinched at the sight of the tiny bird skull amid the dried herbs, fine powdery ash, and other small bones he hoped were of animal origin. Carefully, he placed the two coins on top, mindful the king’s bust faced downward as the witch that had set him on this path had strictly instructed.

He pulled his dirk from the sheath at his hip. Taking a deep shuddering breath, he steadied himself before slicing into his palm. He winced as the sharp edge of the blade bit into his skin with ease and hot, red blood welled quickly. His dripping hand hovering above the coins, he recited the words scrawled on the paper. 

The ritual complete, he looked around expectantly, but found he remained alone. With a defeated sigh, he shook the excess blood from his wound and leaned forward to rinse it off in the waters below. 

I should have known better, he admonished himself. Only a fool would go off chasing fairy tales. 

As he dipped his hand into the cool liquid, something wrapped around his wrist. Shocked, a startled sound escaped him and he tried to withdraw, taking whatever it was with him. 

Encircling his wrist was a delicate hand, slender feminine fingers with nails tipped in turquoise color. Unbelieving of his own eyes, he watched dumbstruck as a woman emerged gracefully from the depths of the spring. Water streamed down her body, splashing back into the pool with a melodious chime. Half submerged, she was a vision unlike anything he’d ever seen before.

Clothed in a swath of damp fabric, it draped artfully along her curves. Her bare skin shimmered, the water droplets clinging to her reflecting the sunlight. Long russet-colored hair lay over one shoulder, shot through with a fiery red streak of a similar shade to the wildflowers that grew nearby. Sparkling emerald eyes gazed at him. 

“My, my,” she spoke. “What do we have here?” 

She took in the bloodied display of items still laid neatly atop the rock. Her eyes met his once more and she raised a scarred brow. A soft smirk graced her ruby lips. Her voice was like music as she said, “This is some old magic for such a young thing like you.” 

“I– I–” he struggled to formulate a response. His mouth opened and closed as his brain stalled. “I came to see you,” he blurted.

A gentle tinkle of laughter escaped her as her smirk melted into a genuine smile. “Oh, sweetling. If you wanted me this badly, all you had to do was call upon me. Aww,” she cooed, her attention turning to the open wound sliced across his palm, ”Now you’ve gone and hurt yourself.” 

Belatedly, Rhys realized she still held his wrist in her grasp. He watched as she raised his hand to her lips and planted a soft kiss to his cut. When their eyes met again, his heart skipped a beat. Transfixed by her emerald gaze, time spun out, a moment stretching into eons. Distantly he was aware of a tingling sensation that zipped along his wound and up his arm. Tearing himself away from her bewitching stare, he withdrew his hand from her gentle grip, took a step back, and glanced down to see his cut had fully healed. A faint thin seam of a scar was the only indication it had been there at all. 

“Now, seeing as how you’ve gone to so much trouble to summon me,” she came forward and leaned against the rocks lining the edge of the pool. Propping herself up against the flat ledge of a boulder, she rested her chin in her palm and looked up at him with expectant amusement, “What brings you here?” 

“Uh, Um, of course,” he shook his head in an attempt to straighten his scattered thoughts. “M– M’lady, I, um, wanted— If it pleases you–” Out of his element, he stuttered over his words, “ I-I’ve heard tales of your generosity and I seek to implore upon your benevolence.” 

“Ah, but it has been quite some time since anyone has come to beseech me,” she said brightly. “Tell me. What can I do for you?”

Nervous, Rhys cleared his throat before explaining, “There is a maiden in my town. She has come of marriageable age. I seek to ask for her hand, but her father is a wealthy man. A merchant tradesmen of some repute. I fear he would not be impressed by my meager offerings, if I were to approach him now. Hence, I’ve traveled here to…” he trailed off, apprehension gnawing at his insides. Speaking his words out loud, he realized how fatuous it sounded. 

“You’ve come to me,” she filled in, “in hopes of a significant boon that might sway this man to see you as a choice candidate for his daughter's hand. But is this a question of love,” she asked, tilting her head inquisitively. “Do you care for this maiden?” 

“I’m not certain I understand,” he flushed at the inquiry, unsure as to how to answer. “What difference does it make?”

Her lips twisted into a strange smile. The expression vanished as quickly as it had appeared. She shrugged, “Truthfully, it matters not. I am just a curious creature.” A knowing look settled upon her graceful features. ”But no doubt this betrothal would benefit you greatly, with more than just a pretty wife?” 

“Y-Yes, my lady,” he admitted reluctantly. “If I were to succeed in this advantageous match, my limited prospects in life would broaden, that is true. So will you help me?” 

She was silent for a moment as she mulled it over. Her eyes narrowed as she searched his face. 

“Wait here,” she bade him before disappearing under the surface of the water. Left alone, he nervously awaited her return. 

She resurfaced once more, putting forth a cupped palm. Nestled in her hand was the largest pearl Rhys had laid eyes upon. Black in color, it shone with a hypnotizing iridescence.

“This should serve to impress your maiden’s father,” she said with a smirk.

Rhys nodded mindlessly as he reached out to take the shimmering pearl.

“Ah, ah,” she admonished, closing her fingers and pulling away. “If you’ve heard tales told of me, you will know that I don’t offer anything out of the goodness of my heart. What do you propose to exchange for this courtesy?”

“Of course, my lady. My apologies.” 

He hastily patted at his pockets before remembering the pack at his feet. He bent to it and withdrew a small velvet pouch. Loosening the drawstring, he unfolded the cloth to reveal a delicate filigreed hair comb of fine wire, studded with small sparkling stones. 

“This was my late grandmother’s,” he explained. “Although not valuable in coin, it is of great sentimental worth to me. It is all I have to offer.” 

“Hmm,” she pondered, her eyes on the comb. Anticipation quickened the drum of his heart. “Yes, I believe this will suffice.”

Relief washed over him, immediately followed by a heady sense of excitement. They exchanged their goods; Rhys taking the pearl into the velvet sachet recently vacated by his grandmother’s comb. Wrapping it up, he tucked the treasure into his pack.

“Thank you, my lady,” he nodded respectfully, desperately trying to keep his excitement hidden under the veneer of manners.

“The pleasure was mine,” she said, “And please, call me Fiona.” 

“I’m honored to have met you… Fiona.”

“And what, pray tell, is your name, most intrepid sir,” she asked, a chuckle in her tone.

“Rhys, uh, my name is Rhys.” 

“Ah, Rhys," she smiled beatifically, her face lighting as she spoke his name out loud, “That’s lovely. Well, I wish you good fortune with your impending engagement.” 

With a wave of her hand, she slipped soundlessly beneath the surface of the water once more. 

()()()

Stumbling through the underbrush, Rhys panted as he came upon the spring. 

“Fiona!” he bellowed the nymph’s name angrily. Despite the week’s span that had unfolded since his disgrace, the bitterness was still fresh. Every step he’d taken on his journey back to this oasis further reminded him of the rube he was and the rebuff he had suffered.  

He called out once more, his hands at fists by his sides. 

“Well, hello again, Rhys.” In the space of a blink, she pushed up from the watery depths,  appearing even more captivating than he remembered. “I can’t say I expected–”

“You played me for a fool,” he interrupted her. Pulling the small velvet sachet from his pocket, he opened it. Inside, the great shining pearl he’d so admired had transformed into a damp, shiny brown lump. He cast aside the offending mass against the rocks of her pool, where the thick clump of wet mud splattered along the side of a boulder. 

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded. “Do you realize what you’ve done?”

“I suppose the proposal didn’t quite go as planned.” Amusement danced in her eyes. 

“I was humiliated. Alyssandra’s father laughed in my face when I asked for her hand.” Defeat rounded his shoulders. “She’s– she’s been betrothed to another.” 

“Alas, it was for the best, I imagine. You didn’t want to marry that girl,” she stated matter-of-factly ”No matter the advantages such a match might have presented, I saved you from a lifetime of boredom."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed resignedly. His anger ebbed away in the face of the truth. As much as he was loath to admit it, she was right. The memory of the half hour he’d spent in the company of the dull-witted young woman he’d so bent on marrying haunted him. 

“I suppose you want me to thank you, then,” he said sarcastically. “For your good deed?” 

An imperious smirk graced the nymph’s beautiful face. “A little gratitude would be welcomed.”

Unable to contain his exasperation, he rolled his eyes. “I’ve returned to retrieve my grandmother’s comb. Let’s have it.”

“No,” she flatly refused. Her hand reached up to the comb nestled in her hair behind her ear, fingers tracing the little glass stones tenderly. “The deal was struck. You received your boon. It matters not if you were unsatisfied after the fact. I, on the other hand, am quite pleased with our trade.” 

“But you tricked me!” he snapped, irritation spiking once more. 

“That’s a harsh way to put it,” she admonished playfully. “In the end, our trade was a barter for objects of equal value. I was merely less forthcoming as to the quality of my item as you were of yours.”  

“Fine,” he scoffed, outmatched. Frustrated at her arrogance, he threw his hands up and turned to leave.

“Rhys, wait,” she called out, causing him to hesitate. “I’m not completely heartless. Since you’ve come all this way, perhaps we can broker another exchange. Perchance for something more appealing than some silly girl’s favor or a worthless trinket?”

Everything within him screamed that he should continue on his way and forget this place even existed. But he found himself turning to face her once more. 

“What could you possibly have to offer me after all this,” he implored wearily, gesturing to the muddied rock. 

“Your eye.”

Instinctively, he reached up, his fingers brushing against the smooth leather of his patch. Her unexpected overture gave him pause. 

“How can I be assured that you won’t trick me again?”

“You can’t,” she stated plainly, “You’ll just have to trust me. But what have you got to lose?”

He was silent for a moment as he pondered that fact. Finally, he asked, “What would you want in exchange?” 

“Ah, therein lies the real question, my dear,” her head tipped as she lifted a brow. “What can you offer me?” 

He raised his hands in surrender, “Alas, I have nothing of any importance to give. As you know, I am a poor man, in coin and title.” 

“I don’t want your coin, boy,” she scoffed, “What good would coin do me, out here in these wilds?” She extended her arms to take in the expanse of forest that surrounded them. “No,” she shook her head as that honeyed smile quirked her lips once more. “I want something you haven’t given another soul.” 

Despite himself, his curiosity stirred, tempered by a fair amount of caution. “And what, pray tell, could that be?”

���All in due time,” she laughed merrily. “First, that eye of yours.” 

She dove beneath the surface of the pool. Rhys waited, his anxiety telling him to turn tail and run. Before he could heed his better judgment, however, she resurfaced. In her hand, she held a small clay salve pot. She tossed it to him and he caught it. 

“Apply that to your eye every night before sleep. It will give you wicked dreams but by the time the salve is gone, you will have sight in your eye once more.” 

“Th–Thank you,” he said, hesitantly as he tucked the little pot in his pocket. “Now, what do you want in return?”

“Come closer,” she beckoned.

She glided up to the rocky perimeter of the spring and leaned out over the flat surface of a boulder. From her perch, he could glimpse translucent patches of iridescent scales that shimmered in the sunlight along her skin, revealing her true nature. Confronted with this reminder that he was dealing with no ordinary woman, his eyes narrowed as he held his ground.

“Come, come,” she urged him forward, curling a finger at him.

Cautiously, he stepped closer to the edge of the pool. Still she beckoned him lower, until finally he dropped to one knee before her. Now, face to face, her eyes sparkled mesmerizingly. The sweet smile on her lips soothed his wild nerves.

“What is it that you require in return?” he asked again softly. 

“Just a kiss,” she replied, the very picture of enchanting innocence. 

Confused, his brows pulled together for a moment. “But I thought you desired something I had never given another,” he reminded her. 

“I do.”

Amusement suffused him and he smiled. “This may surprise you, my lady, but I have given a kiss before.”

“I have no doubt as to your prowess with fair maidens,” she said sardonically, “but a kiss is what I require.” 

Puzzled by her request, he searched her expression for any hint of subterfuge. She gazed back at him guilelessly. 

Finally, he conceded, “As you wish, my lady.” 

He leaned forward slowly. As the space between them shortened, he watched her intently, wary of any treachery. With none forthcoming, he proceeded to press a soft, chaste kiss to her lips. He was withdrawing quickly when she grabbed a handful of the front of his doublet, halting his progress. 

“Hmm,” she hummed skeptically. A wicked gleam shone in her gaze. “I think we can do better than that.” 

Before he could react, she pulled him in again. His eyes widened as she kissed him fully. Her lips were cold against his, a sensation he hadn’t registered on that initial contact. She brought her other hand to his cheek, the chill making him gasp in shock. In great contrast, her tongue was hot as it slipped into his mouth, a warm, slick caress that shook him to his core. 

Instantly bewitched, he was completely at her mercy. His eyes drifted closed as he yielded to her. Sensing his surrender, she retreated and nipped at his lower lip. The unexpected scrape of her teeth against that sensitive surface drew a hushed grunt of pleasure and surprise from him. Quickly, she ran her tongue over the nibble, soothing as well as coaxing him to meet her advancement. Enticed, he obeyed, uniting with her once more in a velvety harmony that set his blood aflame. With every thunderous heartbeat, he succumbed even further to the torrid, wet magic of her kiss. It was true, he had been kissed before, but the memories of those hasty or hesitant exchanges melted away in the feverishness of this connection. 

When she finally relented, he found himself panting for air like a drowning man. Still holding him close, she pressed her forehead to his and laughed breathlessly. “I’d say that’s a good start.” 

“For–for what?” he asked, his thoughts still scattered. 

“Oh, my dear sweet Rhys,” she purred his name, causing the hair on the nape of his neck to stand. “You see, this kiss wasn’t my payment. At least, not in full.” She looked him deeply in the eyes as her thumb brushed against his lips. Her other hand unclenched from his doublet, her palm spreading flat against his chest. “For your end of the bargain, you have to give me your heart.” 

“My-My what?” Crashing back to his senses, he was horrified. Quickly, he pulled away from her. In his haste,  he lost his balance, landing on his rear with a thud. Gaining his feet, he stumbled away, trying to put distance between them. 

“Don’t be so alarmed, sweet one,” she chuckled. “I speak only figuratively. I intend you no harm.”

“Wha–” he scrambled to understand, “What is the meaning of this?” 

She shrugged as she smiled that wicked grin, merriment shining in her eyes. “A goddess is only as powerful as when she is worshiped, Rhys. And it hurts to be forgotten. This ensures you’ll never forget me.” 

“ But– But how does one kiss equal my heart?” he demanded. 

“As I said, darling, it’s a start.”

Pushing away from the rocks and into the water, she lengthened herself out to float along the surface of her pool. Arms lazily stroking through the clear blue waters, she was the embodiment of carefree elegance. 

Head tipped back, she looked to the sky as she continued, “Soon, you will find I am always in the back of your mind. Your body will ache for my touch, your lips will yearn for my kiss. No matter where you go, you will long to return to me.” 

“Folly,” he spit out the word. Rekindled anger burned hot in his stomach. “I don’t know what your aim is, but I can assure you I have no intention of ever setting foot in these woods again.” 

Resolute in his conviction, he spun on his heel. 

“You’ll be back,” she sang out behind him. Her delighted laughter sounded musically in the air. 

Outraged, he rushed headlong into the surrounding forest. He rubbed the rear of his hand against his mouth in a vain attempt to scrub the events that had just unfolded away as he tried to reject the notion of her words from his thoughts. 

There was no truth to her proposition, he reassured himself. It’s all just the mad contrivances of a nefarious sprite bent on toying with me.

Even as he repeated the conviction endlessly, a seed of dissent blossomed in the back of his mind. The remembered warmth of her kiss burned like a fire across his nerves, the heady rush of her tongue as it tangled with his own lingered. Hopelessly vexed, he desperately pushed down the bittersweet memory of her lips against his and hurried on his way.

[ryzselo]

Back to the Borderlands/Transformers AU!

They are stuck in the desert. They are losers. And probably are going to die soon…

[oldwitchsleep]

may have been crying for 45 minutes straight but i was conscious enough to appreciate this