#feel free to burn me at the stake for this

[comatosebunny09]

I feel like some people are afraid to play with different AUs because fandom culture has become so toxic these days. Some readers have become so critical of writers that it sucks the fun out of wanting to play around with different scenarios.

Writers don’t want to leave what’s considered “safe” or “canon” because they don’t want to be stoned to death or burned at the stake like a witch. Like, if you have a headcanon that the general fandom doesn’t agree with, people send you death threats, bully you, dox you, etc.

Me? Idgaf. Writing is freeing. Canon is boring to an extent. There’s nothing wrong with deviating from it to create a compelling and fun story so long as you don’t completely strip away who that character is at their core.

Idk. Just my two cents.

is it just me or does nobody write fun fan fiction anymore ?? like what happened to different au’s and crazy situations that had you begging for more ! hybrids, mafia, soulmate systems, superhero’s, ALIENS AU’s !!! the most common au i find now is just plain old gf/bf (though nothing wrong with that) i want fan fiction to go back to being that - FICTION. you can literally write about ANYTHING, so why not make fun and unrealistic !! make it whimsical and fun so it stands out from all the other stories following the same copy and paste !! not even just different aus but different storylines too. nowadays it just feels like i’m reading the same thing over and over again no matter the fandom 😞

[tubbytarchia]

do you have any thoughts on lizzie & pearl as a duo? do you think they have interesting similarities or work as character foils ? :0

anyway, love your art and animatics !! hope you're doing well !!

Thank you, I'm doing better!

Lizzie and Pearl are AWESOME I do not ever stop thinking about that bone scene in SL. Joel basically on his knees begging for her heart and Lizzie doesn't even hesitate to give it to Pearl instead for fulfilling her demand. I'm actually henceforth mostly regurgitating the thoughts of my friend Wildcatcargo because she was able to verbalize their appeal much better to me, which to boil it down: Lizzie is drawn to the same characteristics in Pearl that she is drawn to in Joel without any hindrance of bias (Joel being her husband)

I hope I don't get burned at stake for this but I'm personally a big aro Lizzie truther, especially in Jizzie as that's the most prominent source of examples. I do not doubt that there is affection and love there, but in situations where it matters, Lizzie values what she can be given to aid in her survival foremost. She is much more selfish than selfless (and good for her) imo, and I think that shows in her relationships, like the way she gets protection and valuables out of Joel by merely asking or appealing to him even when she is the sole beneficiary of the exchange

Pearl in that bone scene, in trying to accomplish her secret task, put greater health at risk than what Lizzie's heart could have healed and got the bone first as a result, where Joel had been less brash and more careful before also losing more health than redeemable. Pearl so quickly doing as told and showcasing a protective quality probably appealed to Lizzie a lot. She had also chosen Pearl to aid her in Decked Out after finding out about her "biggest deck" lol, and she stuck with Pearl in Impossible SMP for protection, because she could ask Pearl to walk in front to avoid potential risk to herself and Pearl would just do it. Again this is all stuff Wildcatcargo pointed out to me so thank you Cat

Pearl and Lizzie have really been to my liking ever since SL and I do think a teamup of them two would be awesome but possssssibly not ideal for Pearl? Lizzie even in being selfish is not usually malicious and I highly doubt she ever would be towards Pearl, it's in her best interest to keep Pearl around but Pearl is also someone who really needs healthy connection (especially after WL) and I think Lizzie would need to be prodded a bit for that. BUT Lizzie is also often brash and blunt which I think would encourage Pearl to be more carefree and them messing around would be healthy for her. I also see no reason for Lizzie to not remain loyal and a stable allyship would also do Pearl a lot of good. Not that her last allyship wasn't technically stable but it certainly tested her for her place within it constantly to the point of others' faults often being relegated to her

I don't really see them as foils though, I've been told that some people see a parallel in Pearl's loneliness in DL and Lizzie's in SL, but there's not much meat there for me personally. I can definitely see the connection being drawn but without anything else to go off of, I don't personally see much else to it aside from the coincidental similarity, but if you do, feel free to tell me about it!

[luxuki-1]

The academy didn't train her for this (Inspired by that one episode in RiD)

Bonus:

(Note: I know Bee is muchhh older in canon, I just thought it would be funny to reference when his first toy was released lol)

[wackysach]

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ 𝕿𝓲𝓶𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓪 𝕽𝓾𝓵𝓮𝓻

𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓪𝔂. ⋆˙⟡

[gracieblood]

well idk about you guys but i love being marvin. i love being marvin. marvin always EATS

[needlebeetles]

I am seeing a bit of straying from the source material in the Kipperlilly Copperkettle tag tonight, so I’d just like to say: She thinks magical hardship specifically gives students an unfair advantage at Aguefort, not having an association with the magical generally. So, Kristen Applebees the literal chosen one of a god, Adaine Abernant, Oracle of Everyone, and Fabian Aramais Seacaster, son of an incredibly rich pirate who later becomes an incredibly powerful demon, would not fall underneath this rule. Riz Gukgak, whose dad got eaten by a dragon, would. I will concede that experiencing magical hardship does can give characters a kind of automatic questline, (“your dad is cursed? go uncurse your dad!”) but also like. This questline comes at the expense of having experienced magical hardship. Riz’s dad is dead.

Kipperlilly (so far, I do suspect there might be something up with her family, cause kids who want so badly to have something loudly fucked up happening to them usually have something quietly and mundanely fucked up happening to them) lived a relatively comfortable, if boring, life, but grew jealous over the fact that other adventurers got cool meaningful quests while she and her party were killing rats in the starting area (by choice).

There is very much a “stigma” against normies in Elmville, and while I can’t blame Kipperlilly, teenager, for getting caught up in that, it’s literally fine to just be an accountant, or a janitor, or a librarian. Or a middling adventuring party. Kipperlilly Copperkettle is a theatre kid jealous of child celebrities, and while that’s like. Fair and fine, she’s not a martyr for having all these big emotions centering around being mundane and not going on incredibly traumatizing quests where the world ends if you fuck it up. She’s a teenager internalizing the social values of the place she grew up in and getting mad about not fitting them without confronting the fact that these values are flawed and harmful, because she’s a teenager (which is, imo, a much more interesting narrative).

[n1ghtmaremachine]

thsi fuckingthing idc whatever

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

gotta admit there is something deeply satisfying abt the ability in ds2 to completely clear out a path to a boss

[unhinged-popsocket]

Hi hello mutuals (and maybe also people who don't follow me back cause im stupid and forgor) time for me to bug you with my dumb ideas which may or may not come to fruition

Kinda have a strong urge to start a Minecraft SMP or otherwise a server of some sorts but have a severe lack of people who would be willing so here I am

I guess like this post/respond/DM me if interested or have any comments or ideas, then I'll figure out what to do next if there's enough interest

Secondary goal here if SMP doesn't work out is to just try to get together a group of people I can pull from for games that have a larger party size or need a bigger group (TableTop Sim, random web party games and such). So like, also respond if you'd wanna join in for that

I'll likely just be merging this into my already existing small semi-active friend Discord server so as to not make another one for possibly no real reason

Also if there is already a Discord or something with a bunch of you all do tell, wouldn't wanna double up on it

@s under the cut

@rubecularum-res @dehydratedlydia @shitass-broadsword @queen-mihai @w4nderingdreamer @willowplantcat @willowyew @empress-of-dark2005 @esthermika @rottingelysium @terrencetheshark13 @unhinged-transbian @i-am-totally-not-a-lizard @oddlysexypancake @original-username42 @phinatheeeper @petzah394 @porygon-v @architectofimagination @aquar-io @afemwolfboy @smalltestaccount @soggy-wet-catgirl @dyle-zacharius-ann @homosexualasstransbian @kwaitwhat @catatonic-chaos-climax @caramella-dansen @canofsouper @bigass-phrog @nelly289 @nellaaaaaa @maythefool @maramoment @maybeestonian

[spacebubblehomebase]

hi, just letting you know that ahmed 90s-ghost doesn't verify fundraisers anymore! he quit after it got too overwhelming, so you shouldn't @ him asking him to. you can probably find the post about it by searching his blog.

Thanks for letting me know, Anon...

I get it... I REALLY do.

I understand. Y'know I used to be so excited to get Asks. It means someone wants to talk about art and silly cartoon characters with me. But now all I feel is dread. Not because I don't want to help, but because the help I give is never enough. I used to privately mesage back to those Asks, but one became 6 became 10 to... Well. I can't donate. Euros and dollars are valued a lot higher here, thus the opposite is also true. The value of our money is but a paltry bread's worth and even if I split it in crumbs, with the amount of people who approach me for help, it'll soon run dry, but I'm just a student who still rely on my parents financially. So I thought I'd share instead, but that quickly got out of hand. I post one thing and get multiple asks by the HOUR. I already had to apologize for struggling to meet demands before and I only had 3 or 6 rare to come-by short Asks about art. Now I have a hundred and counting I have to check personally. I didn't want to admit it, but I've also long been overwhelmed. I just didn't feel like I had the right to say so. I still don't. But the truth is, anyone can say they're verified too, which is terrible because not only will I be partially responsible for my followers who got scammed by bots or scumbags who take advantage of those at war with fake fundraisers, but even worse is that the help and money may not even reach those who actually need it. I thought I would be fine the first time. I don't really like posting too much about our depressing reality or watching news in general because my account was supposed to be a "safe SPACE" and a "nice little BUBBLE" for us to be happy and escape for awhile, so I didn't think much about reblogging it at first. I only wanted to help. But it just kept going and I got swept away. There's so many of them, but there's only one of me and I've been spiraling lately. So for now, I will no longer take any Asks about this subject (which I always avoid mentioning directly because the algorithm has it out for putting you guys down and I wanted you all to make it so I didn't tag those reblogs as such). I'll still take Asks provided they're related to my actual content and of course I'll still support raising awareness for Pal est ine, yet I also get it if this may appear selfish to some of you. I tried. I really did. But if you'd rather ignore, unfollow, or block me for this decision, I understand. I'm just sorry it had to come to this and that I wasn't strong enough to help more. -Bubs.

[adhd-fandom-and-gay]

This is giving me too many ideas for headcanons

air fryer

[samuraisharkie]

it’s absolutely gutting to see what’s happening right now.

[gracieblood]

one day i’m going to say something really controversial and everyone will hate me and i’ll have to change my name and leave the country i just know it

[artdcnaldson]

you can probably tell all this shit is from me but i'm on something tonight and i'm too pussy to sign off with an emoji. anyway, thinking about bsf!artrick arguing over who fucks better and they look at you and who are you to say no to a purely Scientific Experiment. it's for the greater good! i need them to run a train on me. holy shit. them blindfolding you and making you guess who's fucking you and who's eating you out etc.

You’re so iconic I need you to know I worked on this to make it perfect for you and I hope you enjoy!!

But SIGHHHH Getting tied down to the headboard so you can’t cheat and feel for clues! So you’re blindfolded, tied, and completely susceptible to their whims. They’re trying to ignore how pretty you look, because this is simply to settle a disagreement, okay! This has nothing to do with how bad they’ve both fantasized about fucking you since they’ve known you!

It starts with their hands. You’ve never paid much attention to them before (you’re lying), but you swear you can feel the difference between them just by the touch. Patrick touches like he’s trying to stake a claim on your skin. His hands are rough from use— you can feel the rough scrape of callouses against tender skin as he gropes at your tits. Art’s touch is tender and intentional. A little softer (you know he keeps hand cream in his gym bag so his hands don’t crack and split like Patrick’s)— his hands trace along your body delicately, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

That’s easy, but it’s harder to think when it’s their mouths on your pussy, licking and teasing and fucking devouring. You squirm against the restraints, but firm hands hold you down in one spot. Art’s hands on your hips, Patrick’s fingers teasing at your entrance. Patrick’s mouth— fuck.

Patrick eats you out like he wants to ruin you for anyone else, and he very well could. It’s wet and messy and so, so desperate, like he’s got something to prove. He pulls back and spits your arousal back onto your cunt, and you’re sure there’s a puddle beneath you that’s a mix of spit and your juices. Your back arches off the bed as he hikes one of your thighs over his shoulder, bringing you impossibly closer. The sound of his fingers thrusting into your sopping pussy are so obscene that your cheeks burn— you’ve never been treated like this by anyone else before, but you like it. You like how hot and desirable he makes you feel. His lips wrap around your clit and he sucks with just the right amount of pressure, and your thighs shake from the intensity of it all. You couldn’t have tried to hold off your orgasm if you wanted to— Patrick wanted you to cum, so he made you cum, with all the expertise of someone who’s eaten pussy countless times before.

Your cunt is still twitching with aftershocks when Art moves between your thighs and licks up all of the slick spit and cum from Patrick’s endeavors. It’s almost soothing, how his tongue traces the shape of you, like he’s committing the contours of your body to memory. He rubs at your thigh with his free hand, and uses his other hand to ease two fingers into your cunt. He doesn’t fuck you with his fingers the way patrick did, he lets your walls flutter around them, squeeze him tight. He moans at the feeling, at your taste. There’s something about the way that Art nuzzles against your pussy, his nose rubbing at your clit as he tastes you, that tells you he fucking loves it. Patrick is good at eating girls out, but Art lives for it. Your hips cant against his mouth, and Patrick makes no move to hold you down, Art wouldn’t have wanted him to. Art lets you buck against his tongue, his nose, cover his face in your juices. The noises he makes are so pornographic you’d think he was the one getting head. You’re so oversensitive that Art makes you cum like it’s no work at all, with teasing licks against your clit and pressure against your g-spot. He’s practically making out with your pussy as you come down, and finally relents with one final kiss to your twitching clit.

“I can’t—“ you gasp, chest heaving after having two orgasms in such a quick succession. “I just need a break, I need… fuck, like a minute to catch my breath.”

“Yeah?” That’s Patrick’s voice, beside you. When he rubs a hand over your thigh you inhale a shaky breath. “You sure you wanna keep going?”

Then there’s Art’s hand, rubbing along your bicep and brushing hair from your face. “We can stop.”

You should feel exposed and vulnerable— tied up to your headboard with a silk scarf from your dresser, your entire body on display for your two best friends. Your entire body burns with need and desperation. You’ve wanted it for so long, and now that you’ve had it, how can you go back to the way things were before? How can you look at Patrick and Art when you know how their mouths and hands feel against your body? You can’t stop there— you can’t give up because what if they’re hit with clarity immediately after? What if you never get a chance again?

“Don’t wanna,” you say quickly. “Please don’t stop.”

If you weren’t blindfolded, you’d be able to see the pleased grins on their faces. They’ve wanted you like this for fucking months, and now there you are, all tied up, pretty, and dripping for them. Fuck tennis, this is one competition neither of them is willing to lose.

You feel them coax your thighs further apart, opening you up to them completely. You don’t have time to feel shy about how exposed you are, because one of them positions himself between your thighs, notching at your entrance.

In your attempts to identify which one it is, you rely on the few senses you can access. His breath hitches the second the head of his cock breaches your entrance, slipping into your wet warmth. A strangled gasp that you hear him struggle to silence. He’s positioned over you— you can smell sweet cologne and shampoo as he holds his body up and drives into your cunt. The brush of coarse hair against your clit, the feel of hairy thighs sandwiched between yours as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“Patrick,” You pant out as soon as he’s fully sheathed inside of you. Of course it’s Patrick, staking his claim on your body first.

“Mhmm,” His breath is hot against your ear. “You’re so smart.” The condescending tone of his voice makes your stomach do a fucking somersault. “Goddamn, you’re so fucking tight. Pussy’s trying to suck me in, isn’t she? Feels that good, huh?”

Now you understand the revolving door of Patrick’s hookups, why girls put themselves through the Sisyphean cycle of pleasure and heartbreak over and over again for him. Just his words are enough to set your body on fire. All you manage in response is a pathetic nod, an involuntary arch of your back as he slowly pulls out of your cunt, then drives back in hard. The moan that spills from your lips is unlike any sound you’ve ever heard yourself make before.

“That’s it,” he coos. “Just take it, baby. You're fuckin' made for it.” And you are— at least, it really feels like it. You feel him reposition— sit back on his knees, grab you by your hips, and fuck into your cunt nice and deep. He fucks like he doesn’t care if you’re going to cum, which is clearly untrue, given how close you are already.

When your climax hits you, it’s like it’s being pulled from some hidden depth in you— ripped from the very core of your being. Your toes curl, your cunt grips him like a vise, so tight his rhythm falters. It’s dizzying, all consuming. Intense and short-lived, like most of his relationships. Still, he fucks you through overstimulation until he pulls out and cums onto your tummy.

“Go ahead, I broke her in for you.” Patrick sounds smug, and you hear the clap of skin on skin as he slaps a hand on Art’s shoulder.

It doesn’t feel much like an experiment anymore. Not when you know when Art climbs on top of you, when you feel soft kisses peppered along your jaw. That goddamn oral fixation.

He eases your thighs apart, spreads you out for him. Art’s thighs are smooth against yours. From a distance, he looks hairless, but you can feel the soft brush of fine hair again your own thighs.

A shaky gasp escapes you as his cock glides against your cunt. Slow ruts of his hips that coat his length in your arousal and judge his tip against your clit. You can feel your pussy dripping for him, that little tease of friction and pleasure.

Art’s loud. You can hear his soft little pants and moans as he humps against your cunt, until he can’t take it anymore. “‘M gonna put it in, okay?”

You nod and let him push in nice and slow. He groans and buries his head against your neck, and you’re conscious of the brush of soft curls against your skin, of his hot breath panting against you. “You feel so good, Jesus, fuck—“

He grinds his hips into you— nice and slow, so each movement sends pleasure sparking up your nerves. You can't help but wrap your legs around his waist, heels digging in to tug him closer, deeper.

You've kissed Art before— at parties during stupid games meant to play on raging hormones and pent up sexual desire. Bottles spun that land on him, smoke shotgunned into your mouth when you're both a little crossed and can't help yourselves. But it's different then, when he smashes his lips to yours, licking hungrily into your mouth. Better when he's fucking you nice and deep, his body pressed against yours.

Art Donaldson, ever the sweetheart, the gentleman that Patrick is not. His hand moves between your thighs to toy with your oversensitive clit until you mewl. If the blindfold was off, you'd be able to see the pleased smile he wore when you cried out for him.

"I've got you," he mumbles against your mouth. His forehead presses against yours, his nose nudging softly as he moves between soft kisses and open mouthed gasps of pleasure. He swallows up every sweet noise you give him, squeezes the plush of your thigh in the hand that isn’t rubbing over your clit. Your body tenses with pleasure, arching into him and he moans as you clench around him. “Fuck—“

You want the blindfold off. You want to see Art come apart, you want to know what Patrick’s doing while he watches. You want so much more than you have in that moment. And still, Art brings you to your finish like it’s easy, like every other guy hasn’t struggled to do it before him (well, besides Patrick). You’re spent, panting, oversensitive and yet you still feel a throb of need as Art jerks himself off over you.

With the blindfold on, all you can hear is the slick sounds of his hand pumping over his cock, his whiny moans, and then you feel the shock of warm ropes of cum landing on your skin, dripping down your sensitive, swollen cunt and pooling on the sheets.

It’s only then that the blindfold is pulled off, and you can see the mess they’ve made of you. Patrick’s cum dried and smeared over your stomach and Art’s abs, Art’s cum glazing your pussy. They untie your hands and you don’t even realize until then that they’re all tingly with lack of blood flow. Patrick rubs his thumbs into your palms, trying to soothe the ache as Art scrambles to find some way to clean you up. Sweet boys, even if they try to deny it.

“So which one of us—“ Patrick begins, before Art throws the towel he used to clean you up in his face. His expression twists in annoyance, but he knows better than to ask again. He’s fine keeping it a tie… for the time being, that is.

[acosmicbee]

Forgotten Royal

Platonic Yandere King x GN Teen Reader

You stood inside a hidden servant's passage, watching as the royal ball took place. Out there, sitting proudly on their thrones, was the royal family. Well, most of them anyway, but you didn't technically count. You had been the result of an affair between the king and a maid and your birth had caused an uproar in the palace.

The queen had done everything to get rid of the person causing her so much embarrassment by accusing your mother of everything she could. Adultery, thievery, witchcraft. She was barely a day postpartum when she'd been burned at the stake in front of the palace. The maids, however, had saved you with the king's permission. That was the only thing he'd ever done for you.

The head maid raised you, teaching you to stay out of sight and out of mind. She had some level of pity and care for you, but not enough to make you feel welcomed here. Now you were about to turn 14, the age when you would've made your debut and joined noble society. The day when you would've been announced as one of the heirs in line for the throne.

Instead you were hidden away, the secret bastard child of King Peter. You pretended to be unbothered, smiling away the hurt and anger you felt as you did your daily chores. Overtime. you had grown tired of always watching from within the walls and tonight it finally caught up with you.

You turned, dashing through the corridors as you made your way towards the kitchen. The head maid spared you a single pitied glance before returning to her work as you dashed out the door into the garden.

You ignored the rare plants and magnificent decor, a mission in mind. You headed straight towards the outer wall and climbed up to the top, using the gaps in the stone as foot and handholds. From up here you could watch the ocean and beach below the cliffs the castle stood on. 

It was a cloudy night and you strained to see whatever you could when the moon was briefly free of the cloud cover. A few seconds of moonlight illuminated a speck on the water below. The next time the clouds shrank away from the moon they were closer. You realized it must be a boat, probably a merchant ship heading south to the next kingdom over. 

You sat there, watching in glimpses as the ship sailed around the island, out of your sight. Maybe they were heading for the port. Maybe they were heading for the next kingdom. You honestly didn't care too much other than wishing you had the freedom to sail wherever you wanted.

Although, thinking about boats reminded you of a really cool shell you'd found down at the beach last time you snuck down there. It had been a while since you'd gone, maybe you'd ditch your chores tomorrow to go see it.

Eventually, you climbed down the wall and headed back inside the palace to go to bed. You fell asleep quickly, exhausted from the emotional toll of the day and all the chores you'd done. You were long asleep when the head maid peeked into your room. After assessing you were safe and sound she walked off to continue with her work, making a mental note for the next time the king asked about you.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

The ocean was cool and felt like bliss on your legs as you scanned the beach. You'd snuck away from the head maid, taking the long route to get here. While you did have to go all the way around to the beach by the main port before you could climb the rocky outcrops to reach the north beach, it was worth it. 

You'd already found some perfect scallop shells and an iridescent muscle shell. You wandered the shoreline, constantly checking the sand for anything that caught your eye. It was when you reached down to pick up a sand dollar did you feel a strong arm grab you by the waist and hoist you up.

"Well, well, well. What kind of treasure do we have here?" A deep voice asked. You struggled as hard as you could, dropping your shells in the process.

"Let me go!" You demanded, but your struggles were useless against a man way stronger than you were. He easily contained you until you'd tired yourself out. It was then he'd turned you around in his arms, holding you bridal style.

The man wore a crown, similar to King Peter's. He was probably a neighboring king, here as an invited guest to the ball last night. Your eyes locked with his brown ones. You both stared at each other before he smirked down at you.

"What is a maid's child doing all the way out here?" He asked, guessing your profession by the dull and worn out clothing you wore. You glared at him in annoyance.

"I'm collecting shells. Put me down." You demanded again. You were getting angry now, starting to squirm again.

"Where are your parents, child? You're a long way from the castle." The man asked. He finally put you down after an exceptionally harsh glare from you. You dusted off your clothes before picking up the shells you'd dropped before.

"I don't have parents." You answered, inspecting a razor clam shell. You decided against adding it to your growing collection and headed further down the beach. The man followed after you.

"You're too young to be out here alone. Did you scale the rocks to get here?" The man asked. You nodded, picking up a small spiral shaped shell and adding it to your pile. "That was very dangerous. If you slipped you would've fallen into the ocean. Do you even know how to swim?" 

"I don't slip, I know how not to." You answered simply. The man hummed for a moment before his eyes lit up, not that you could see with your back turned.

"I know exactly what you need." He said, striding over and picking you up again. This time you held onto your shells as he started carrying you down the beach.

"Hey! I'm not a kid! You can't just pick me up whenever!" You snapped, giving him a dirty look. He just smiled.

"I think, as your new father, I can do anything I want."

"N- new what?!" You shrieked, trying to squirm and roll your way out of his arms.

"You see, I was planning to come here to send your little king a message. My empire could really use some of the resources but King Peter refuses to trade with us over some past issues. But now," the man grinned down at you. "Now not only do I have an heir, but I will also have the resources I need as soon as King Peter realizes his choices are to trade with me or watch his kingdom burn. He will surrender and I will have everything I need."

Your mouth was open in horror. This wasn't a guest, but a blatant enemy. Then again... what had King Peter ever done for you? Why did you feel any obligation to stop this? But at the same time, what about the servants who had raised you? What about the head maid who was your sole mother figure.

All you could do was desperately struggle as he carried you down the beach.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

"You asked for me, my king?" The head maid said, bowing as she entered his study. Peter just sighed, waving her closer.

"Stop it with the formalities. You know why I called you here and you know what I want." He said, his voice commanding. The head maid just nodded.

"Y/N has been a little down lately. I think it's partially jealousy over their place compared to your other children. They snuck out to the garden last night during the ball, but were in bed and asleep when I checked on them." She reported.

"Jealous hmm..." Peter hummed, a storm of emotions flickering through his eyes. "And where are they right now?"

"Probably down at the beach, my king. They skipped out on their chores today."

"When they return, send them to me. I think it's finally time we had a little chat." He said, dismissing her.

"Yes, my king."

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

Your 'new father' gripped your wrists to keep you from hitting as he carried you aboard the ship. You didn't care about the spectacle you were making as you tried your hardest to fight back with just your legs. Clearly you were drawing some attention when a man limped up to your captor with an annoyed glare.

"Lucas! You can't just suddenly wander off like that! You know fully well that your men don't listen to me!" The man seethed. He looked similar to your 'father', or Lucas as you now knew. They had the same green eyes and plethora of freckles, but Lucas had fiery red hair while the second man had dark brown. The second man supported himself on an ornate cane as he stood in front of Lucas.

"Darling, meet my little brother, Pierre." Your 'father' introduced, finally setting you down but not releasing your wrists. You froze as Pierre's mouth dropped open in shock. He glanced back and forth between you and Lucas for a while before he let out a long suffering sigh.

"Did you kidnap a child, Lucas? Really?!" Pierre asked. He limped closer to you, using his sleeve to wipe some stray sand off of your face.

"You always make everything sound so bad, Pierre. They said they had no parents so theres no one to kidnap them from. It's an adoption." Lucas insisted. Pierre rolled his eyes, carefully looking you over.

"You poor thing. Look at these dreadful rags..." Pierre frowned at your clothing and Lucas nodded.

"Indeed. Can you schedule a fitting for them once we return? Both for a new wardrobe and a crown. Until then though, I should be able to scrounge up something a little better." Lucas said. Pierre nodded before gesturing over to a knight who was waiting patiently.

"Go talk to your men, brother. I'll run them a bath while you're busy. I'll also get them some clothes, you wouldn't know proper fashion if it was standing right in front of you." Pierre chastised. He gently led you away from Lucas and towards a private cabin.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

You felt cleaner than you had in ages. Not only were you allowed to use hot water, and the most expensive hair products and soaps, but Pierre had spent a while just brushing your hair for you. He was, in your opinion, the only upside to the spontaneous kidnapping. You'd never had someone take care of you like this before.

Pierre had dressed you in one of Lucas' shirts, and some deer hide trousers. The trousers were likely borrowed from some junior knight because they were only a little loose. The shirt, on the other hand, swamped you and Pierre had to cuff the sleeves for it to fit properly. 

At some point, the adrenaline had worn off, leaving you sleepy, but irritable. You were actually enjoying having your hair brushed, Pierre's hands gentle and caring, when the cabin door had flung open with Lucas standing in the doorway. 

"Thank you, Pierre. How about you go tend to your leg, hm?" Pierre huffed, looking annoyed and uncertain, but eventually did what Lucas asked.

Upon being alone, he grabbed you again which caused you to glare at him again. He carried you over to the small desk in the cabin, placing you on his lap as he inspected something. It horrified you to realize it was a map of the castle.

He held you closer when you tried to squirm away. His grip tightened to near painful, only relenting when you finally stopped resisting. He just chuckled, placing a kiss on the top of your damp hair as he took notes on the side of the map.

It took a long time for the exhaustion you'd felt earlier to come back to haunt you. When it did you resisted as long as you could before your body involuntarily relaxed into his. He placed down his pen when that happened, a dark look in his eyes as his interest shifted from the map to you.

"Don't worry darling, we'll be able to head home soon. I promise you my empire is way more impressive than this. The castle has a private beach attached where you can go scavenge for shells every day if you wish." Lucas promised you, ruffling your hair as you drifted off.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

Pierre was the one who took care of you that night. He fed you dinner and tucked you into bed. Lucas had already left with his knights to storm the castle, minus a couple who were guarding your door. You'd never been tucked into bed before, and the weight of quality blankets mixed with a full stomach made your eyes go half lidded.

You were a goner before Pierre started reading to you from a book he'd pulled from one of Lucas' shelves. In an instant you had fallen asleep, Pierres soothing voice carrying your mind to the realm of dreams.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

"I'm surprised you didn't try and run with them." Pierre didn't turn to look at Lucas. Even from where he sat at your bedside he could smell the metallic scent of blood. His brother always got more trigger happy after a kill.

"And run where?" He asked, closing the book and laying it in his lap. He still refused to look at Lucas, keeping his eyes trained on your sleeping figure.

"Smart boy. You've learned since last time." There was a rustle from behind him and a few minutes later Lucas stepped into his view. He was just wearing his pants and boots, shirt, cape and armor abandoned. "How's your leg brother?"

Pierre growled, anger growing. "You would know, wouldn't you? Seeing as you're the one who broke it." Not only had Lucas broken it, he'd also made sure it never healed correctly, leading to the limp.

"Today must be a bad day then. Seeing as you're so grouchy and you were actually using the cane I got you."

"You know just as well as I do that you're going to hurt them. At some point they'll do something, just like I did, and you'll snap at them too." Pierre said, standing from the chair and finally meeting his eyes. Lucas only smirked, an evil look on his face.

"Family is very important to me. They'll learn that just as you have, brother. Now be a dear and go get some sleep, hm? You've had enough time with them today."

Pierre left the cabin with a sick feeling in his stomach. One of the knights standing guard immediately started to escort him to his own cabin. As he looked up at the stars, past the smoke rising from the now burning castle and ignoring the screaming of the people of this kingdom, he hoped you would escape and lead a happier, and freer, life then he had ever been able to. 

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

Peter clenched his fists as he watched his castle burn. His eldest son was commanding the guards to douse the fire and find the queen. His other children were crying, his youngest daughter clinging to his pants. He knew they wouldn't find her alive, he'd already taken care of her before the fire had broken out.

He was about to take over from his son, to redirect the guards to helping civilians, when the head maid came running over, her face streaked with ash. Her eyes looked panicked as she approached him.

"My king, Y/N is missing." With those words the anger burning inside him was stoked into a raging inferno. "One of the guards said they saw a ship flying the flag of the Ashefall Kingdom docked down at North Beach!"

His mind raced as he realized what that meant. You'd gone to the beach today. You had been down by the ship. Had they captured you? Were you being tortured? Had that savage monster killed you? He growled, realizing if he'd been able to get rid of his wife sooner, this never would have happened.

You'd have been raised alongside your siblings as a royal. You would've been escorted by guards wherever you went. No one could have ever laid a finger on you. He growled as he stormed past the burning palace, easily scaling the garden wall. He watched as a tiny ship cruised past the shore, even from up there he could see the maroon flags blowing in the wind.

"Mark my words. I will get my vengeance, for my kingdom and for Y/N." He promised, glaring down at the boat as it sailed away.

[bookshelftreasures]

The Bargain

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Genre: Slow Burn, Sexual Tension, Light Angst

Summary: During a high-stakes negotiation, you and Azriel are forced to pose as a mated couple to win the trust of a powerful court. But when he kisses you in public, it doesn’t feel like pretending anymore.

Word Count: 1,077

Warnings: Mentions of deception, romantic and sexual tension

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆⋆☾✩⁺₊✩ ✩⁺₊✩☽⋆⋆☾✩⁺₊✩ ✩⁺₊✩☽⋆⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

Azriel stood beside you, his shadows curling possessively around your wrist as the Lord of Autumn Court scrutinized the two of you with cool, assessing eyes. The entire room smelled of embers and dying leaves, the air thick with unspoken challenges.

“You expect me to trust you?” the Lord sneered, sipping from his goblet of wine. “The Night Court, the infamous spymaster, and his…” He let his gaze flicker to you, unimpressed.

Azriel didn’t so much as blink, but his shadows darkened. “My mate,” he said smoothly, his voice devoid of hesitation. “And the only reason I’m entertaining this conversation at all.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs. Mate?

That hadn’t been part of the plan.

The Autumn Lord’s eyes narrowed, looking between the two of you like a predator sniffing out weakness. “Your mate?”

Azriel’s hand found yours, his calloused fingers threading through your own with practiced ease, like he’d done it a thousand times. His thumb brushed over your skin, once. A silent trust me.

You forced a smirk onto your lips, playing along. “Is that a problem?” you purred, tilting your head like you were amused by the skepticism. “I’d think you of all people would know how powerful a mated bond can be.”

The Lord’s expression tightened just slightly, and you knew you’d struck a nerve.

Azriel pulled you closer, his body heat a stark contrast to the cool shadows that always clung to him. He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “He’s watching for a crack. Don’t give him one.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough for your breath to ghost over Azriel’s cheek. If this bargain was going to work, it needed to be convincing.

So you reached up, resting your free hand on his chest—right over the steady, unshaken beat of his heart.

And then you kissed him.

It was meant to be quick. A brush of lips, a show of devotion, nothing more. But Azriel—silent, unreadable, controlled Azriel—didn’t let you pull away so easily. His hand slid to your waist, fingers tightening as he deepened the kiss, slow and deliberate. The kind of kiss that told the room there was no question, no lie.

Your head spun. You barely registered the approving hum of the Autumn Lord.

When Azriel finally pulled back, his lips hovered over yours, his breathing steady despite the way yours was anything but.

“You’re both dismissed,” the Lord said with a wave of his hand. “I’ll consider your offer.”

Azriel nodded, murmuring a quiet my Lord before tugging you from the room, his grip firm on your hand. You didn’t speak until you were far enough down the winding halls, shadows pooling around the corners of the stone.

You yanked your hand free. “What the hell was that?”

Azriel, ever composed, simply looked at you. “A necessary deception.”

“A mate bond?” You huffed, crossing your arms. “I thought we were pretending to be courting, not mated.”

He didn’t answer immediately. His hazel eyes studied your face, as if gauging something unspoken. “Would it have been so unbelievable?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it.

Azriel took a slow step closer, his shadows curling over your shoulder this time, lighter, lingering. “You kissed me back.”

"You're the one who didn't let me pull away," you countered, pulse racing. "I may have started it, but you sure as hell made it something else entirely."

His lips twitched. “Do you regret it?”

His expression didn’t change, but something in his gaze shifted—something that made your stomach flip.

“Would you rather I hadn’t?” he asked, voice low, unreadable.

You swallowed hard. “That’s not the point.”

“Isn’t it?” He took another step, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. “Tell me to forget it, and I will.” His voice was soft, but there was an edge beneath it, something almost… vulnerable. “Tell me it meant nothing, and I’ll let it go.”

Your throat went dry. Because you knew what he was asking, what he was really saying.

If you told him it was a lie, he would believe you. Even if he knew better.

You opened your mouth—to say what, you weren’t sure—but Azriel exhaled sharply, as if giving up before you even spoke.

“Forget it,” he muttered, stepping back. The distance was instant, suffocating. “It was a means to an end.”

Something in you snapped.

“Bullshit.”

Azriel stilled.

Your heart thundered as you took a step forward, closing the space he’d tried to put between you. “You didn’t have to hold me like that. You didn’t have to kiss me like that.” Your voice wavered, but you didn’t back down. “Tell me it didn’t mean anything to you, and I’ll walk away. Right now.”

Silence.

His jaw clenched. His wings flared slightly, shadows restless at his feet.

And then—Azriel moved.

One moment there was space between you. The next, you were caged between his arms as he backed you against the cold stone wall, his chest pressed to yours, his hands braced beside your head.

“I can’t,” he admitted, voice raw, quiet. “I can’t tell you that.”

Your breath caught.

Azriel’s fingers brushed along your jaw, tilting your chin up. His shadows wrapped around your waist, curling, anchoring. “I don’t want to pretend.” His hazel eyes burned into yours. “Not anymore.”

You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until it escaped in a shaky exhale.

“Then don’t,” you whispered.

A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face. His fingers tightened slightly, as if bracing himself. And then—

Azriel kissed you.

Not for a ruse, not for an audience, not as part of some deception.

This was for you.

And it was everything.

The world faded. The only thing that existed was the warmth of his body, the way his lips claimed yours with quiet desperation, the way his hands slid to your waist, gripping like he had no intention of letting go this time.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath uneven. “This isn’t how I wanted to tell you,” he murmured.

You smiled, tracing a finger over his chest. “You have a terrible way of communicating, Shadowsinger.”

A soft chuckle rumbled through him. “I’ll make it up to you.”

You grinned. “Damn right, you will.”

Azriel kissed you again, slower this time, like he had all the time in the world.

And for the first time, neither of you had to pretend.