#forgetting boats can.. float

[rainbowangel110]

Ok because I trust you guys to be nice..... uhhhh- you can judge my taste in music.......

https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLF1EgMTdmOq2Z0FuqipKCixhXTkFMN79v

[ktsumu]

18+ NSFT MDNI. POLY MATSUHANA. ALCOHOL.

“What do you mean you don’t like making out?”

Makki looks at you like you’ve betrayed him, on his side of the couch with his half-full beer can in hand. “That’s the best part!”

You shrug. “Dunno. Just never been with the right person, I guess.”

“That’s some bullshit. Guys don’t even know how to kiss a girl right? We used to hunt, you know—“

“Makki sucks at it, too,” Issei chimes, leaning against the other end of the couch with his own can half-empty. He nurses it in one hand, lazily plays with a curl in the other. “Can’t say shit.”

“What the fuck? I’m such a good kisser,”

“You—“

“Wait, why do you know how good or bad he is?” you ask, turning towards Issei on your left.

Over your head, he and Makki share a grin.

“Actually? Forget I asked.”

“Don’t be green, friends kiss all the time.”

“Yeah, sure.”

You slide your back down the couch, crossing your arms over your chest as you focus back on the movie playing on the TV. Your cheeks feel hot.

You’re aware of their legs craned out to rest on the coffee table, a set on either side of you. You’re watching them out of your line of view, but when Makki’s head cranes back over the couch to look at the man to your left, you lose track of them.

They’re bickering, you can tell. Issei keeps breathing out little laughs and Makki’s making obscene hand gestures, shaking the cushions when he tries to reach behind you and smack him.

It’s the fifth time the couch jerks that you groan, pushing yourself back upright to break them up.

“Can you not?” you groan. “I’m trying to finish the movie?”

“I’ll stop when he admits I’m not a shit kisser.”

“Too much tongue, babe.”

“I was drunk!”

You swallow. “You’re probably both good kissers, okay? Settle it at that.”

They quiet after that.

The room gets quiet, save for the wind coming through the window and the movie playing still. There’s a steady picking on fraying cushion behind you, no doubt from Makki’s antsy hand.

“You think we’re both good?” Issei prods.

“Sure. Whatever floats your guys’ boats.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“How would I know, Issei?”

The three of you— you’re close enough friends by now that silence is rarely awkward, but you’re not dumb. You know what hole you just dug.

Dig your grave and lie in it, or whatever.

“You wanna find out, then?” he asks, maybe a little quieter if you’re paying close attention.

Makki is hot against your other side, leaning ahead to see the both of you as good as he can. You slink back a little into the sofa— you’re in deep literally and metaphorically.

Issei slips his hand up your leg, watching your lips part the second he sets his eyes on yours. It stays on the backside, coming back up to skip over your ass, resting on your back.

His other hand is hot on the side of your face, tilting your chin up so you’re almost touching him.

“Can I show you something?”

You huff a quick breath, and nod even quicker.

Issei takes you whole, it doesn’t feel like just a kiss. It’s not just lips, even though it starts that way— it’s a graze of his teeth against your jaw before he steals your breath away that makes you slump down the couch, an exchange of power that gives your all to him.

He’s languid and slow, tongue taunting yours and his hand dauntingly large on your side. Makki’s slips beneath his and then under your sweater, nails scratching beneath your navel as they span over your skin.

You forget to breathe. He tastes like espresso and a good time. You lose track of whose hands are which. You don’t know anyone but them. You forget any other lips who have ever tasted yours.

When you reach up into his hair, knotting your knuckles in his curls, Makki takes the back of your neck and pulls you back. You’re looking at Issei, but he doesn’t look mad.

He’s smiling. You blink. You’re looking at Makki, now, and he’s smiling too.

“My turn?” He says it like a question. He might be saying it like he’s begging.

Makki moves so he’s just about on top of you, coming from above when you lean your head back to see him from below. He’s quicker than Issei, hard against your teeth and against your thigh, dizzying in how he pushes and pulls, rutting against you like he’s always wanted this.

Issei tugs your leg over his, smoothing his hand up the inside of it, skipping over where you’re too sheepish to say you want it.

It rests on your stomach, fingertips dipping beneath your waistband as Makki groans so low it vibrates in your throat. They’re playing give and take with you, back and forth like magnets, closing in and giving you space again like a corset.

Issei’s hand cups your chest and Makki’s rests on your throat. You’re being swallowed whole, and all you want them to do is spit you up and do it all over again.

Then, the storm breaks, and when you come to, they’re starry-eyed and staring at you.

“What?” you gasp.

You turn your head back and forth, looking between them like you’re checking your blind spots. You still think somethings gonna come out of nowhere and hit you; bring you back to reality.

“Nothing,” Issei shrugs. But, he leans back. “Do you wanna stay overnight? Save you a drive in the dark.”

They surround you. They encapsulate you differently, like smoke and water. You’re hot and all too aware of the things you’d say yes to.

Makki’s fingers burn against your shoulder, dragging the collar of your top down your collarbone as you nod.

Issei grins, cheshire and warm. “Mm, good.”

[agirlwithglam]

I recently realized I have to stop sulking over my life but I struggle with embodying my dream self sm ughh

Do you have any tips?

Ok, what would ur highest self do RIGHT NOW? Like if she was going through sulking and not feeling her best, how would she tackle it? What would she do?

Take it slow, give yourself some rest, write down goals, make a to do list.

If you’re still stuck, here’s mini action plans for you🍰

🍓 1. Goals.

What’s your mega goal- what do you want from life? To be a doctor, have a business, what is it? (Try not to make it too vague)

Next, find out the things you need to get done to achieve this goal. So if you want to build a big business, you probably need money, a good product to sell, business & salesman knowledge, etc.

Once you got that, now figure out how you’ll achieve those things- for example; you need business or salesmen knowledge? Read books, listen to podcasts, watch videos, ask people around you for tips, etc. so that’s what you can start with, everyday listening to a podcast or reading a chapter will definitely bring you closer to that goal.

Then it’s just basically practice and consistency. Keep going, don’t give up! Make a to do list for each day, but don’t forget to add rewards as well.

🍓 2. Take it slow, prioritise your mental health.

Are you feeling okay? Is your health good? Have you been exercising, eating well, getting a good amount of sleep? Sometimes it’s just not taking care of yourself properly which can make you struggle and feel stuck!

So go, put on a face mask, do some yoga or exercise, whatever floats your boat, read, shower, and take a nap. Then when you feel better, do the Goals part.

🍓 3. Find the small happinesses in life.

You’re sulking? Maybe then take a day off and just become a child again. Go out for a walk (if you can & it’s safe), go for a swim with your friends, just laugh and have fun without another care in the world.

Be your inner child! Have fun!

Anyways I hoped that helped, I have a bunch of other stuff on self improvement & becoming your best self so u can read that too and also: watch thewizardliz or Tam Kaur or anything good yt, it helps.

Xoxoxoxoxo

[willekieker]

i posted this on the wrong blog and i am far too lazy to fix it. :) goodnight fiddauthor nation

all that studying sure is exhausting, huh?

closeups under the cut vv

[inf3ct3dd]

streamer!ellie pt.2

summary: i hated the other one of this that i made, so REMAKE TIEM!!!

warnings: miiinor sexual content, shit talking, gay people 😒

authors note: heheheh ples don’t flop this time..

- during her faceless days, she opened up a po box so ppl could send her things, and she made an amazon wishlist and she unboxed stuff on stream 😍😍

- one day she was unboxing a giant box of cat toys. string, those little feather stick things, even that weird automatic flapping fish thing (that she secretly loves and taped to her back one time)

- she was playing with this one toy that was a little fishing reel, and it had string and a little fish on the bottom. she went on and onnn about how shes a self proclaimed “fishing master” while garf chased it around, letting out little meows and growls of frustration.

- eventually, she lost her grip and let go of the pole. she bent down to pick it up, forgetting that her face would be in view. thus, the chat started blowing up.

ewwwbruh: FACE REVEAL

ewwife: EW WE CAN SEE UR FACE

ewwife: JUST THE SIDE BUT WE CAN SEE YOUU

ewssidechick: her nose looks so rideable…

- she got distracted petting garfield, and didn’t realize anything until she stood up. she was getting tagged over and over again on twitter, blurry pictures of her face (curtesy of the shitty webcam) circulating through her subreddit.

- “guys. im gonna erase this from ur memory…” and she literally held up this goofy ass hypnotizer pendelum and started fake hypnotizing everyone like “that never happenedddd” “you don’t know what i look likeeee” “that was fakeeee” “chat that was not reallll”

- and everyone literally js went along with it and pretended it never happened. like ppl were tweeting about it and everyone was like “huh??? what are u talking about bruh??”

- she did the same thing after falling off her rainbow unicorn scooter 😞

- one time she revealed that the “ew” in her username stood for her initials, and everyone was making the most horrendous guesses. elliam willace being the favorite one.

- “guys, my name is not edward wilson??? i am…not a man”

- shes gotten into so much drama…multiple notes app apologies have been issued via her instagram story.

- people would ask her opinions on other streamers, and she’d literally just be like “…i have no idea who that is.” and people would get so MADDDD but homegirl is literally just blatantly unaware

- or she would know , and would literally be like “they’re honestly super annoying and i would rather kill myself than watch them but whatever floats ur boat ig!”

- she played that “womp womp womp womppp” sound effect on her soundboard afterwards.

- SPEAKING OF. she abuses that soundboard sooo much. its so obnoxious and annoying like I SWEARRR!!! she’ll tell a horrible pun and play the crowd laughing and cheering sound effects while literally no one laughed.

“guys. whats the best way to watch a fly fishing tournament??”

“…live streaming.”

(crowd cheering sound effect)

“nooo thank you thank you, you’re all too kind, really!!”

- meanwhile chat was dead silent.

- every time she gets to choose her own name on a game its some dumb shit like "jizzmaster" or "chris fucker"

- “it appears you have entered innapropriate content.” “OHHH LOOK AT EPISODE LOOK AT THESE CORPORATE BIGWIGS TRYING TO CONTROL THE LITTLE MAN???”

- she just ended up naming him “chris phucker”

- like when she played episode on stream and made up really annoying voices for all the characters and made her character look like an elderly man, and made the love interest look like you 😍😍

- she messes up sm on games when she streams normally, but when you're there? she is LOCKED THE FUCK IN. sitting there so focused the entire time just to show off

- whenever she randomly goes silent she just starts SINGING. it's either nicki minaj or some fucking fnaf song

"IS THIS THE THANKS THAT I GET FOR PUTTING U BITCHES ON???"

- speaking of, her favorite fnaf song is def “stay calm” cuz she loves saying “hey kids. Nice to eat ya.”

- bought one of those "i paused my game to be here" tshirts…ironically. you refuse to let her wear it in public

- beefs w kids on fortnite sm... she has definitely gotten banned for saying she was gonna bomb a kids house or fuck their mom 😞

- every time she plays a game, she'll literally sit there and watch an 8 hour long video about the lore. she'll plop down on the couch and watch it like a movie

"did you know everyone actually thought that fnaf one took place in 1993, but it was actually 1992?"

- she definitely had you sit next to her when she played through fnaf because she was lowk scared the entire time whenever she heard you walking around the house while she was playing she'd hear footsteps in the hallway and be like. WHAT THE FUCKKK

-she'd have you right next to her, laying your head on her shoulder and messing with her free hand. if you fell asleep, she would be sitting there slapping her hand over her mouth whenever she gets jumpscared bc she doesn't want you to wake up 😞

- sometimes, while she streams , she plays one handed games and lets you sit and draw on her arm for fun. even got you a whole set of those skin markers so u could go ABSOLUTELY HAM. she got one drawing you did that said “r + e 4eva” tattooed in ur handwriting…such a sap

- she loves watching fan edits of herself...AND OF YOU. she'll be on her burner account with a whole collection on tiktok of edits of you.

ewwsbiggestfan: shes so bad i want her to hit me w her car...

- speaking of. imagine her using that account to make shitty capcut edits of you like

- shes ur biggest fan ongod

-WHILE WE’RE ON THE TOPIC OF “fans”…what if i made a completely new origin story for streamer!ellie and reader. what if they were both streamers….

- OKAY SO BASICALLY.

- you had started streaming about a year before ellie did. butttt, you two did very different types of streaming.

- you weren’t very into like, SERIOUS video games. sure, you played some stuff, like animal crossing and roblox and the sims, but nothing more than that.

- that wasn’t what you were streaming though.

- ever since you were younger, you had been wayyyy into…literature.

-by literature i mean fanfiction. heaps of it.

- actors, anime characters, BOOK CHARACTERS, you were in DEEP

- sometimes, for fun, you used to read them out loud in stupid voices. when you were alone, or with your friends, it was very entertaining

- that’s when you got the idea to start streaming it. if it could entertain your friends, and you, whos to say it wouldn’t entertain other people.

- well, it definitely did. in your first year, you hit 10k followers. people loved you. theyd make edits of you, send in requests of fics for you to read, everything.

- a while later, ellie started gaining more and more popularity. out of all the incomes of fame, fanfiction was the most. abundant!

- one day, you got a request to read an ellie x reader fic. at the time, you barely had any idea who she was, but you decided to just go with it 🤞🏽

- “who the fuck is elliam willace???”

- the fanfic was definitely very…graphic!

- “your hips rolled onto her thigh, her slender, tattooed hand palming at your waist. ‘you’re doing so good babe, fuck.’-“ “GUYS. ISN’T SHE NOT ON MUTE RIGHT NOW???”

- you couldn’t help but giggle the rest of the fic, feeling a nagging heat in your core. you didn’t even know who the girl was, but if this fic was accurate, someone would have to sedate you.

-“im actually. gnawing at the iron bars of my enclosure. GUYS. who is this woman…is she real… if she is. things are about to get WICKED.”

- not very thankful to you at the moment, she was very real. apparently, you and her were streaming at the same time, and your followers raided her stream telling her she was reading about you. her curiosity was obviously piqued, and why would she NOT join the stream?

- creeperewman: im definitely real!

- the text on your screen literally made your stomach fall into your ass. you stood up and legit just walked out of the room, camera still on. was she there the whole time???

- creeperewman: aww 😞 where’d she go she’s so badddd

- you eventually returned after a minute of calming yourself down, and low and behold, she gifted you 100 subs and followed you on instagram.

- she was definitely very real!! and that fanfic was…lore accurate. to say the least 😊

- after you two started dating, the two of you would often show up on eachothers streams. ellie, teaching you how to play cod, and you, reading with her.

- she secretly loves reading the fics people write about her and making fun of them, and every time you stream with her shes “subtly” hinting that you should read about her

sitting there pulling on her collar, looking away like “gee, wonder who you’re gonna pick today” with the worst fake laugh ever.

- “ellie can barely ride a scooter, idk why she’s in the mafia rn…” “you fall off ONE TIME and all of a sudden you cant ride a scooter. bullshit.”

- she makes fun of all the dumb pet names like “babygirl” and “darling” and randomly calls you them and bursts out laughing

- you still read those fics when you’re bored sometimes. and ellie MERCILESSLY makes fun of you for it

“yknow, if you missed me that bad, you should’ve just told me.”

[choism]

Jester's Game | b.tc

Captain Buggy x Pirate!afab!Reader

Genre: smut, angst, fluff (If you squint)

Summary: Trying to overtake Captain Buggy's ship leaves you asking questions, and surprisingly, getting answers

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: top!buggy, afab!reader, unprotected sex (pls dont), cunnilingus, fingering, creampie, squirting, rough sex, gentle sex (yeah wild), inappropriate use of detached limbs, spit as lube (also a no no), overstimulation, pet names (sweetheart, princess)

A/N: WOOHOO ITS MY FIRST NON KPOP FIC!! I knew I would write for other stuff eventually but I definitely did not expect it to be a recent hyperfixation. Buggy just has me bricked up okay! Anyway I hope y'all enjoy, don't forget to let me know what you thought of the fic in the tags !

It’s a rather unfortunate series of events, really. Sure, you could’ve told your navigator to sail away from the ship with the giant clown crossbones flag. Yeah, it might’ve helped if you had told your crew that they were about to fight some of the toughest pirates in the East Blue. But where’s the fun in that? As their captain, it’s your job to seek the adventure, and well, this was an adventure all right.

It started with you telling your men to approach, cannons firing, your crew hopping their ship, the infamous ship commandeered by none other Buggy The Clown. Yes, the ship your measly crew has decided to board. Listen, it was strategic! Buggy had somehow gotten the map to the grand line back, and your ship just so happened to be within the vicinity of his, so why not seek the opportunity to take it? Well that was your first mistake.

Now, you find yourself here, hands bound behind your back and kneeling with your crew in front of Buggy’s stupid, dumb throne in his stupid, dumb circus tent cabin.

“You all truly are fools for thinking you could take on my band of freaks,” Buggy lazily sprawls over his throne, seemingly unimpressed by your, in his words, ‘lackluster crew’.

“It’s funny actually, how pathetic it was, I mean even Mohji got in a few punches! Ha! Truly a fine show.” The man you assume being the Mohji that Buggy had just poked fun at, slumps his shoulders sadly at his jab. “Now, time to get to the good stuff…” Buggy trails off, standing up and taking a few strides in your direction, his dirty boots stopping directly in front of you. He detaches his hand and uses it to lift your head, pointing your chin up to look him in the eye.

Looking up, you spit and it lands on his cheek, he simply swipes it off with his attached, gloved hand. “So what if you defeated us, it doesn’t make you any better of a pirate, and doesn’t get you any closer to the One Piece.” You tilt your head and smirk. He may have overcome your crew, but he will never overcome your overwhelming ego and pride. It matches his just as equally.

“Ah, that's where you’re wrong, princess,” His grin is just as wide as yours, and briefly you’re confused, what could he mean? “Given your set of thieving skills, probably some of the best in the East Blue, I’ve heard, you’re gonna join my band of freaks, and I’m not giving you a choice sweetheart,” Buggy removes his hand from your chin, and it floats to his arm, re-attaching itself.

“Boys, throw their crew overboard, we have no use for them.” He rolls his eyes and sits back on his throne, “Oh! And go show them to their new quarters, make them feel at home.” Buggy laughs a deep boisterous laugh, one that genuinely sends shivers down your spine.

The pirates lead you into, what is actually, quite a nice room in the lower deck of the cabin, lit by a few candles, and a cot in the corner. Surprisingly, they cut you out of your ropes, and shut the door without locking it. What’s their deal? Don’t they know you can escape at any time if you wanted? Sneak out and steal one of their emergency boats, and sail to the nearest Island? Granted, you aren’t sure where the nearest Island is, you’re a thief, not a navigator.

Instead of worrying about escaping, you roam the small room, admiring your surroundings. The whole ship is clown themed, front he flags to the cabin to everything, but this room is different. Not a single sign of jester-like decorations anywhere. In fact, it’s as if this cabin was decorated specifically for you. Before you can think more of it, the door opens suddenly.

Buggy enters, and closes the door behind him. When he enters you’re sitting on the cot, legs crossed and unamused.

“Not thinking about escaping? Not that you could anyway, we are miles away from the nearest island, and realistically it would take you days to get there on one of our measly boats.” He rolls his eyes, as if annoyed by how small and fragile the boats are, before sitting backwards on the chair at the short desk next to the cot.

“So what do you even need a thief for? Why am I here?” You blurt, already growing impatient from the lack of information being given to you.

“I need you for many reasons, being a thief is only one of them, sweetheart.” Buggy grins and removes his hat, setting it on the desk. “You already have connections at the grand line, and while I know you need my map to get there, I know that you know the people I need to talk to, to gain safe entry without slaughtering half the fucking pirates there.” He leans back and relaxes a bit, observing your facial features.

“And why do you think any of the people I know would want to help you? You’re just some lowly pirate.” You spit at him, angered by his casualness. In what world would you even willingly help him? Who does he think he is?

“Ha…Me? A lowly pirate? This coming from the literal captain of a crew is hilarious! Tell me another joke, please.” He grins knowingly, he knows how to get a rise out of you for sure. You look over his facial expression, smugness overtakes his face and it makes your stomach twist, not with disgust though for some odd reason, with another feeling you don’t quite recognize. 

This whole situation has you feeling all kinds of anxious. How did you just happen to raid the ship of a pirate who just happened to need you for this specific thing, and why is his presence making you feel so…weird? Something isn’t right here, and it can’t be because of your connections to the grand line. No, he’s hiding something. 

“What are you hiding, clown? There’s something you aren’t telling me.”

His face drops, and he gets suddenly very serious, “Listen here, princess,” Buggy gets up from the chair and gets close to you, leaning down, your noses almost touching. “You’re gonna get me to the grand line, I don’t care if I have to torture it out of you, got it? No more questions tonight.” He gets up and suddenly grins very brightly, as if nothing ever happened. “Night night!” Buggy walks out and slams the door, then you hear a locking sound.

Fuck, he locked you in your room. You should’ve expected this, honestly. The way he reacted to your question was so strange. You knew there was something fishy, but you didn’t think whatever it was could’ve prompted that kind of reaction out of him. 

***

The next day you wake up to yelling outside of your cramped room. Yawning, you get up and put your ear to the door,

“I’m sorry Captain Buggy! I didn’t know that was their ship I swear I promise!”

You hear what sounds like a kick to the jaw and a yelp,

“Didn’t know? Didn’t know?! You couldn’t tell by the giant crossbones flag that very obviously bares their symbol? I’m tired of you, someone go throw him off the deck.”

You hear screams and pleads of “No please!” and “I didn’t know I’m sorry captain!” before hearing water splash, then silence, then- oh shit footsteps coming towards your room. You scramble back to your cot and lay down, pretending to sleep. You hear a couple of knocks before hearing a feint “What the fuck am I doing, I go where I want!” Before Buggy barges into the room after unlocking it.

“Get up, I know you heard everything.” He spits gruffly, sitting back in the chair again the same way as yesterday. You sit up abruptly. Last night you couldn’t shake this feeling, of what you felt when Buggy had gotten so serious, and it’s just gotten worse being in his presence. Your abdomen feels hot, your ears feel hot, everything feels hot. It’s like butterflies in your stomach if the butterflies were armed with knives.

“Yes, I did hear, what do you mean by my symbol? I thought bumping into you was a coincidence?” Buggy smiles faintly, and chuckles.

“Yes, it was, I wasn’t informed of what ship we attacked, just that my men captured you all, oh but when I saw you…I knew.” Buggy stands up and motions for you to do the same, getting so close to you, your chests almost touch. He brings his hand to your arm, caressing down the length before gripping your wrist harshly, causing you to wince. “Do you….” he trails off, “Do you really not remember me?” He brings his eyes from your arm to your face, making direct eye contact.

You struggle to find words, what does he mean, remember? Yeah, he gives you a strange feeling everytime you're near him, but you’ve never met this man in your entire life. You think. Honestly you can’t remember anything before the age of seventeen.

“I– no, no I don’t…”

His smile fades, and he lets go of you, “I thought you would remember once you saw me, we were on Gold Roger’s crew together years ago, but you went missing after a particularly tough battle.” He pauses, thinking carefully about what to say next, “You– We– We were close, and I was devastated, I thought you were dead.” He’s being surprisingly vulnerable right now, and it’s kind of scaring you.

“I don’t really remember anything before I turned seventeen, All I know is one day I woke up on an island, a group of pirates took me in, I left, and I’ve been on my own since. The only reason I am where I am today is because I wanted to find who I was, and I figured I could find that out at the grand line.” You feel overwhelmingly sad. Why are you sad? You don’t even know him.

There’s a long silence between the two of you, it’s uncomfortable, tight, and makes you want to leave, until he says, “Let me show you.” He says abruptly, and you think you see a blush across his face.

“Sorry, I mean, please,” Buggy steps into your space again, this time his eyes flit between your lips and your eyes, back to your lips. “I’m sorry we couldn’t find you, I’m sorry you had to go through that, I missed you so much y/n” That was the first time he’s said your name this entire time, but it’s not one you recognize.

“Is that my name?” Your lip quivers, he’s so close now, your lips are inches apart.

“Yes it is, y/n, sweetheart, princess, I’ll call you whatever you want, just let me show you.” The thick air has disappeared and is now replaced with tension. Something deeper, heavier, fills the room. But it’s not a bad thing.

“Let me show you who you were to me.”

You let his face drop to yours, and your lips finally connect.

The kiss is slow, languid. It’s like his lips were meant to connect with yours. Buggy wraps his arms around your waist. Pulling you in closer, and kissing you deeper. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you let him kiss you as deep as he wants. The pace quickens and he slots his leg in between yours, rubbing against your pants and providing much needed friction.

You moan into his touch and he walks the both of you backwards until the back of your knees reach the bed. He lowers you onto it and hovers above you, kissing you again before departing. “Is this okay?” Buggy asks, brushes his hands underneath the bottom of your shirt, slowly lifting it.

“Only if you return the favor.” He chuckles and lowers his head to your neck, sucking and biting gently while riding up your shirt until your chest is exposed. You sit up briefly to take off your shirt and as promised, he does the same. He isn’t overly ripped like most pirates are, but he’s still well toned. His muscles flex as he shifts lower, kissing down your chest, down your stomach and stopping just above the navel.

“When I saw you were the one my men captured, it took my breath away,” He lifts your hips so he can remove your pants and undergarments, “I was scared, anxious, I didn’t know what to do, so I pretended I knew you for your skills, not for your past.” After removing everything, he pushes back, kissing your thighs before sitting up, taking his gloves off with his teeth and throwing them to the side. Man that was hot.

Buggy detaches one of his hands and lets it roam up your torso, reaches your neck and gives it a gentle squeeze. Before leading his fingers over your mouth, asking for entry. You grant it and his index and middle finger slip into your mouth, swirling your saliva around and coating them generously. “When you suspected I knew more, I didn’t know what to do. When you boarded I just knew you by name, not face, there was no way I could’ve expected this.”

He removes his hand from your mouth and moves it down to your center, rubbing through your folds gently and inserting two fingers, scissoring you open and prepping you for what's to come. Buggy uses his still detached hand to remove his own trousers, his cock springing free from its confines. He strokes it slowly, clearly getting off to his detached hand fingering you open.

“Buggy…” You moan, you can’t even reply or form a sentence, the pleasure too good.

“Shhh just relax sweetheart, I’ll take care of you.” He brings his hand away from your now dripping cunt, reattaching it and leaning down. You feel his breathe over your core, he kisses your clit before taking it in his mouth, lapping up your taste and fucking you onto his tongue. You can feel your orgasm approaching quickly as he flits between sucking on your clit and tonguing inside of you, but he pulls away.

“Fuck! Why’d you–”

You’re interrupted by his cock entering you and your legs being lifted by his hands so he can enter as deep as possible. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so full before. His cock fits so nice and feels so good and he hasn’t even moved yet.

“Fuck you’re so tight and wet for me, so fucking good huh? Letting me fuck you like this.” His pupils are so blown out, he watches his own cock pull out and start to thrust into you, it just fuels your arousal further. Buggy starts out slow, just getting you used to his size before he picks up the pace, fucking into you even deeper and faster.

“Shit, gonna cum Buggy please.” He moves your legs to prop onto his shoulders and he grabs onto your waist, pushing down and holding you in place as he fucks into you roughly.

“Gonna cum for me? Go ahead sweetheart. Cum all over my cock.” He moves his hand over your abdomen and presses down, the pressure making you feel dizzy. You feel white hot, the band finally snapping as you come. “Fuck, gonna cum soon too, gonna fill you up so good.”

Buggy relentlessly fucks into your cunt, overstimulating you and causing a pressure to build that’s unfamiliar. “Wait Buggy I, fuck I feel weird it feels good.” Soon, with a loud cry you feel a wetness rush between your legs, causing you to let out a loud string of moans and curses.

“Squirting for me already? God you’re full of surprises. Shit, I’m coming.” A few more snaps of his hips and you feel his hot cum fill you up, as promised. It feels so good. He slows down and pulls out, his load leaking out of you and onto the sheets below. “So good for me.” He whispers, leaning down and kissing you gently. He cleans the both of you up quickly and gets dressed, ready to go back to his quarters for the night.

“Wait Buggy, before you go…” You trail off and he turns around, listening intently. “If you don’t mind, can you tell me more about my- about our, past? I need to know where I came from, what happened.” Buggy smiles gently, walking up and kissing you on the forehead.

“Of course princess, later”

© Choism 2023. do not repost or translate.

[vivwritesfics]

Requesting either combo Landoscar x male!reader or separately x male!reader pretty please (whatever floats your boat in terms of story, I love your writing style)

I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!! i've actually been thinking about this for the longest time, but every time i sit down to write i forget about it lmao. I used to write male reader all the time and I've missed tf out of it

It was an unprecedented situation, they found themselves in. Drivers being together wasn't. Look at Nico and Lewis, look at Max and Daniel, look at Max and Charles, look at Max and...

Teammates spent so much time together, it was expected that they were to fall into bed together. But this was new. Nobody really knew what to do with this.

Lando and Oscar stood outside of Zac's office, both of them leaning against the wall behind them. Lando had his hands folded over his chest and Oscar's hands were in his pockets. Neither of them touching, but the team knew exactly what was going on with the two of them.

But they didn't know about the man in the office.

No, not Zac (I might throw up at that lmao). The ex Formula Two champion stood in Zac's office, going over his requirements as a reserve driver.

"When do I get to drive?" He asked.

Zac laughed. "If one of those two breaks their legs or something, you can drive," he said.

A grin crossed his face. "I can make that happen."

They discussed when he'd be put into the car for practice sessions and things like that. His media duties with Lando and Oscar and more. They never crossed into the topic of his relationship with the drivers, not yet, anyway. That was a meeting to have with all three of them.

When he walked out of the office, Lando and Oscar straightened up. "So?" Oscar asked as he and Lando walked towards him.

He shrugged, but then a grin crossed his face. "Zac said I can drive if I break one of your arms," he said. "Who wants to go first?"

Lando threw his arms around his shoulders and dragged him away from the office, down the stairs in the MTC. "You're a little shit," he said through a laugh as the three of them made their way outside, to their cars.

"No more than you!" Oscar called as he jumped in. He grabbed him, pulled him away from Lando and into him. His lips met the top of his head as he fished the keys from his pockets.

Lando and Oscar had shown up in their expensive cars that couldn't hold more than two people. Now, that wouldn't do. But it was fine, because he had his shitty little ford fiesta that he loved more than anything in the world.

"I'm driving," Lando said, raising his hand for Oscar to throw him the keys.

"The fuck you are," he replied, catching the keys before Lando could. "It's my car."

Ever since he'd met the two drivers, he'd wanted a truck, one with a bench seat so that they could all sit in the front. Lando climbed into the passenger seat and Oscar climbed into the back. Lando reached forward to touch the radio, but he playfully slapped his hand away as he pulled away from the MTC.

"We're in my car, we listen to my music," he said as he pulled onto Guildford road and headed towards Woking. "What're we thinking for lunch?"

"Waitrose sandwiches?" Lando offered.

"Waitrose sandwiches," Oscar agreed.

The boys got themselves Waitrose sandwiches and got back into the car. They knew a dinner between the three of them would have looked weird, them crowding around a table, trying to eat. (Well, it wouldn't have looked weird, but there was a certain amount of paranoia that came with the three of them being together).

It wasn't romantic, the three of them sat in an empty car park as they ate their sandwiches. The moment Oscar opened his tuna sandwich, Lando let out a groan and scrambled to wind down the window.

"Want some?" He offered Lando. Lando leaned forward and bit into his sandwich, tearing off a corner of it. He hummed as he ate and offered him some of his own sandwich.

Oscar tried to do the same, but the moment he thrust his sandwich forward, Lando pushed open the door to the car and let out a retching noise, pretending to throw up.

"I don't think he's gonna kiss you after this, Osc," he mumbled through a laugh as he dug into his own food.

"Damn fucking right!" Lando shouted, sucking in deep gulps of fresh air, air that didn't smell like tuna.

Oscar rolled his eyes but leaned forward again. As soon as he did, he was kissing him, looking at Lando. Lando who was too busy with his head out of the window to watch the show. "I don't think it's working, Osc," He said against his lips.

He mumbled a quiet fuck it and climbed his way into the back with Oscar. If they were gonna make Lando jealous enough to join them, they were going to do it right.

[goldenroutledge]

when you reach me

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

word count: 1.1k

warning(s): main character death, grief, spiritual connection. this one’s pure angst.

summary: in which you mourn the love of your life.

jj maybank masterlist

Tears cloud your vision, preventing you from reading the words on the page. This is it, you think. The moment of closure you still haven’t allowed yourself to have, nothing but guilt clouding your mind since you left him. Not since you, supposedly the love of his life and the keeper of his secrets, abandoned him in Morocco. His worst fear in life come true in his death.

No matter what you tell yourself, it will never be enough. There’s not a single magic spell or genie in a bottle that could bring him back. There’s nothing– that’s good for you anyway– that will ease the pain of losing him. You remember the sadness and the frustration you felt watching him on the boat, drinking the days away because of a purpose he lost sight of. Now, that memory resonates with you more than ever. You know the feeling, it’s resignation.

The only thing that motivated you to pick up a pen and write was the fact that you owed it to him to send your feelings out there, somewhere into the universe. The tranquility of the water at night welcomed you from where you sat on the dock. You figured this would be one of the hardest places to be, overwhelming you with the reminder of what’s happened. You don’t need to be reminded, you can feel it. In every breath there’s an ache in your heart and a bruise to your bones. You can feel him here, ready and waiting to receive you. It’s the closest you’ll ever get to leaving flowers at a graveyard after all.

Rolling your letter, watching as the ink disappears with each movement of the paper is enough to make your throat swell and tears brim in your eyes. Sliding the message into the bottle is excruciating. Taking your deepest thoughts of him and sending them away. As if someone is stripping a child of their favorite toy, infringing on the emotional attachment they have to it. That’s exactly what this feels like, words in the shape of your heartstrings that you badly want to let go of, yet can’t help but stay close to. Until you remember, these words don’t belong to you. They belong to him, wherever he is. Gently, you press your lips to the bottle, giving a kiss goodbye to the metaphor it holds. JJ Maybank, your heart in human form once upon a time, is gone from your reach forever.

These waters are the closest thing you have now. When you look into them, only then can you remember the beautiful days you shared with him here, free of the anguish that locks your heart up in chains. The days of diving, swimming, kissing him in these waters, are long gone. A place where the world used to wait, where the moment would never end if you could have things your way. Setting the bottle free into these waters, you feel nothing but uncertainty that you’ll ever be the same. Watching the bottle float away and out of sight, you can’t help but wonder if he’s somewhere out there feeling the same thing.

-

‘I know I’ve waited a while to do this, JJ. I’m sorry. I’ve been in shock, in pain, angry enough to set the world on fire, numb enough to not feel the flames as they burn. You need to know that I’m sorry. I’m not who I used to be, I’m not the person you said you love with your last breath. I can’t be that person anymore after your killer released all of his hell and gave it to me. I can’t look in the mirror without seeing a shell of who I once was. I can’t take care of the others when I don’t remember how to take care of myself. I’m sorry that I have broken all of the promises between us. You wouldn’t want this for me and I don’t either. But here we are. Here I am really, it’s just me now. Sometimes I forget that, things should be different.

Someone asked me out on a date about a week ago, I felt like punching him in the face. If it weren’t for the others, I would have. If anything, they are taking care of me. I know you want me to be happy. For some people that means moving on, lighting a new torch with the one you carry for a past love. I’ve come to accept that I’m just not capable of that. What would make me happy about looking into another’s eyes and seeing yours? How could I feel safe from another’s touch if it isn’t yours? Our love made me believe that my heart could never break. I was wrong. I was so very wrong. Maybe that’s cynical of me, but I witnessed your life come to its end, I deserve to be. A part of my life ended, too.

I wish I could keep believing in everything that brought us together, but I can only remember everything that tore us apart. I hate it when people tell me that someday I’ll find love again. I do have someone I love, but not in a way that their eyes can see. They don’t understand that I don’t want to know a life without you. I’ve been told that each day gets a little better. They’re wrong. My heart breaks every day that life goes on without you. I loved you for practically your entire life, how am I supposed to be okay knowing that you loved me for only a part of mine? I don’t want to wake up one day and remember you only exist in my memory, that you’re only a shadow playing tricks on me.

I can’t make any promises to you. A part of me never wants to forgive you for leaving. The best I can do is thank you for showing me what it means to love someone, to know that I’m only one half of one soul. For giving me a reason to laugh and smile. It is because of these things, that makes you the reason why I scream and cry. There’s so much I wish you were here to do, so much I wish we could still do together. I miss you, JJ. I don’t think I’ll ever stop. I’m trying to learn about who I am without you. I don’t know if I’ll ever find out, but please just know that I’m trying. Every morning I wake to an empty bed, every time I want to shatter the mirror in front of me, I keep trying. For you, I’ll never stop. You didn’t have a choice nor a chance, and I’d be damned if I didn’t take mine. I love you.’

Y/n

💌: had this in my drafts for months now, really ever since watching the obx 4 finale :,) it was nice while it lasted right? thanks for reading!

taglist: @marjorieswrld

[marloree]

What is it like spending a day by the beach with TXT?

Genre: headcanons, fluff, crack

Pairing: TXT members (separately) × Reader

Huening Kai

He's the one for sand castles and other sand activities.

Will throw a competition on who builds a bigger sand castle faster.

It's only been 30 minutes since you arrived to the beach, but he's already digging into the sand like his life depends on it.

Makes a hole big enough for at least half of the body to fit in.

You two quickly forget that you got there to swim and start burying each other in the sand instead.

Beomgyu

Complains that you just had to choose the hottest day ever to go to the beach and that he'll get sun burned. That is, until you finally get there.

Once he sees the ocean, there's no way he's leaving until the night comes.

Spends most of the time in the water, not a single complaint leaving his mouth.

Always in for a splashing war, won't let you be until you had at least 10 rounds.

Taehyun

I feel like he wouldn't be a fan of hot weather. The beach is the only way to cope for him.

LOVES LOVES LOVES floating in the water.

Swims for a while to float just as long.

Air mattresses were made for him.

Lazily laying on such a mattress with him for half of the day soon turns into a summer hobby.

Soobin

Lays at the beach getting tanned with no will to get into the water.

But gives in if you ask for long enough and swims with you for a short while.

Soon gets out to put on SPF and continue getting his summer tan.

You're never seeing pale Soobin during the summer ever again.

Yeonjun

Always in for any chaos you can suggest or he himself can think of.

Don't even try, he'll come up with something 10 times more reckless faster than you do.

Swimming as far as is allowed, trying all the possible services the beach can afford, such as banana boats and whatnot.

Low-key would be in for diving, playing beach volleyball, attending gymnastics class by the beach.

Once the summer arrived, you're not getting Yeonjun to leave the beach.

[evolutionsvoid]

A common joke that comes with freshwater lakes is that they are superior to the saltwater because they are "shark-free." While indeed many ponds and rivers can rest easy knowing they don't have razor-toothed flesh eating fish within them, that comfort cannot be given to all freshwater bodies. One must remember that every ecosystem has its predators, with issues only arising when they get too big or aggressive. Yes, the lakes don't have sharks, but they have other fish that some would consider even worse...

The native Americans knew quite well where log gars could be found. It was in waters where their canoes were chewed into splinters. This is because log gars possess a nasty set of serrated teeth and an incredible aggression towards wooden objects. Log gars are carnivorous fish, using their long toothy jaws to shred prey. While they will happily eat whatever they come across, it should be noted that their primary prey are beavers. This is where their saw-like teeth come into play, as these weapons help rip through beaver dens and dams so that they can get at the morsels behind the wooden walls. A lifestyle of devouring beavers has led to the species developing a link between food and wood, where chewing through wooden objects inevitably leads to meat. While this does lead to them attacking fallen branches, their beliefs were validated when man and his wooden boats came to their waters.

The natives of these regions learned this lesson, and so would others who came. Canoes of wood and birch bark were seen as targets, and the log gar's teeth sawed through them with ease. Torn open by these eager fish, the boats would sink and leave the floating men inside at the mercy of these gar. To no surprise, quite a few folk were devoured by the log gar. Even loggers who floated their products down the river fell to these nasty fish, who detected the presence of meat atop it all. Many attempts were made to be rid of these terrors, but the log gar is no easy foe. Their bodies are covered with hard scales coated in dentine, which can repel spear and hook. Attempts to stab them often fail, and their razor teeth mean hook and line is easily severed. Nets are torn to ribbons and any more extreme efforts would jeopardize the rest of the aquatic life within. Even if someone were to master a way to catch them, their populations are high enough that it would be impossible to deplete them by hand.

Even as nasty as they are, natives did occasionally succeed in catching these fish or finding dead ones. Those that they could harvest would have their scales used as arrowheads and shielding, while their jaws made fine makeshift saws. Log gar meat is seen as disgusting, due to its composition and their propensity to swallow a whole lot of sawdust during their feeding frenzies. Their hard scales also make them a pain to fillet, though they may help make your knife sharper!

Log gars proved to be a menace in many lakes, causing quite a few to be marked off limits for water sports and other recreational activities. When man started to switch from wood to fiberglass, the attacks on these vessels lessened. The few log gar that made the mistake of attacking these ships often perished after swallowing chunks of fiberglass, leading to a painful demise. While this does make water travel safer against these fish, it still isn't recommended in some areas due to the possibility of someone falling in. Even if your boat doesn't sink, an accidental tumble into the water can end in a bloody demise.

Though hated and feared by many, often considered pests and menaces, the log gar does get its rare times to shine. Their scales make for neat jewelry, and one renowned power tool company has one as their mascot. They are also highly valued as fishing trophies, due to the extreme difficulty to catch one and the fact that many older larger specimens remain around today. And who could forget the charming children's safety scissors made to look just like them?

---------------------------------

"Log Gar"

[fuzzyautumninmetal]

Beautiful

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x Fem!Mermaid reader

Big thanks too @brokenpieces-72 and @all-purpose-dish-soap for the plot idea!! love you 🫶

I really really hope I've done Kyle justice here 😩

The icy water clawed at Kyle's skin, the pressure in his ears a dull throb. Panic flared in his chest, a cold, sharp spike. His oxygen gauge flickered, a mocking red, and his lungs burned. He'd been reckless, pushing too far, and now his tank was failing. He was going to die here, alone, in the depths of this frigid, unforgiving sea. Then, strong arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him upward. He felt a surge of relief, a desperate hope, but his vision blurred, his body heavy. He couldn't see who was helping him, only felt the powerful, rhythmic strokes pulling him towards the surface.

He woke to the harsh sunlight and the familiar faces of Task Force 141. The relief was overwhelming, but it was quickly followed by confusion. He remembered the panic, the darkness, and then... someone had saved him. But who?

Kyle, still shaky, shook his head. "No, I... I don't know what happened. I felt someone pull me up."

"You alright, Gaz?" Johnny's voice was gruff, concern etched on his face. "You were out cold for a good five minutes. Thought you'd gone and met Nessie down there."

The others exchanged glances. "You sure you didn't just black out and think you were saved?" John asked, his tone sceptical.

Kyle frowned. "No, I'm telling you, someone was there. I felt their arms around me."

The incident became a running joke amongst the team, with Johnny constantly teasing Kyle about 'meeting Nessie.' But Kyle couldn't shake the feeling of truth in his memory. He had to know who saved him.

Weeks later, driven by a need for answers, Kyle returned to the mission site. He rented a small boat and spent hours scanning the water, the memory of the strong arms pulling him up vivid in his mind. Then, he saw it. A flash of emerald green, a tail shimmering in the sunlight.

A mermaid.

You swim gracefully through the crystal clear waters, your emerald tail propelling you effortlessly through the waves. your long, wavy hair cascades behind you like a waterfall, reflecting the sun's rays as you moves. You pauses when you spot something floating on the surface.

A boat? 

Curiosity piqued, you surface, your eyes widening at the sight of a human. That human. The one you saved.

As the figure surfaced, Kyle's heart skipped a beat. It was her, the mysterious saviour from his near-death experience. You were real, not some delusion or hallucination brought on by oxygen deprivation. You were stunningly beautiful, your hair flowing like a river of molten gold in the sunlight, your eyes a captivating blend of gold and red that held an air of mystery. You were different, unique, unlike anyone he'd ever seen before. And you'd saved his life.

You quickly dove back down into the water. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't have come looking for you. It was stupid really. Reckless. You should of left him to his fate...but you couldn't. You couldn't watch an innocent human die.

Kyle watched as the enigmatic figure dived back beneath the waves, leaving him with more questions than answers. Despite the brief encounter, he knew he wouldn't forget you any time soon. Your actions spoke volumes about your character, and your beauty captivated him in a way no other woman had. There was something undeniably intriguing about you, a sense of mystery that made him want to learn more.

He found himself returning to the same spot over and over again, drawn to the memory of the mermaid who'd saved his life. Each visit filled him with a strange longing, a desire to see you again, to thank you properly for saving his life. He began to bring offerings, seashells and starfish, anything he thought might catch your attention.

You can feel his presence every time he comes. Its annoying really. He doesn't belong here. This is your home, your sanctuary. Why does he keep coming? To see you? No. He wants something else. Something more. He wants answers. Answers to questions you cannot give. You're not supposed to exist. Not anymore anyway. But you do...and you can't let him find out. You can't let him expose you.

One day, as he tossed a handful of sweet treats onto the water's surface, he swore he saw a flicker of movement beneath the waves. Was it her? Had she returned? He stayed longer than usual, waiting, hoping for another glimpse of the mysterious mermaid.

He waited for you, patiently watching the horizon until the sky turned dark. He knew you were there, hiding in the shadows, observing him. He knew you didn't want him there, but he also knew you hadn't stopped him yet. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever came next.

"I know you're there," he called out, his voice echoing across the empty sea. "Please, I just want to talk. I won't tell anyone about you. I promise."

You listen to his words. You don't trust them. Humans lie all the time. They lie to protect themselves. They lie to get what they want. But you need to hear him out. You need to understand why he keeps coming here. He's persistent isn't he? Maybe that's something you admire? Or maybe its infuriating? Either way, you decide to show yourself. Just enough so he knows its you. Your eyes meet his as you break the surface of the water.

When the mysterious figure finally emerged from the depths, Kyle's heart pounded in his chest. It was her, the mermaid who'd saved his life. Their eyes locked, yours filled with a mix of curiosity and caution, while his were filled with gratitude and admiration.

"Thank you," he said quietly, his voice barely audible above the sound of the waves crashing against the boat. "For saving me."

You watch him. Watch his face for any signs of deception. None are shown. You swims closer to the boat, your movements graceful and fluid. Your close now. Close enough to touch if you wanted to. You reach out a hand, touching the side of the boat gently. A sign of acceptance maybe? An olive branch? Or just another test? Only time will tell.

He watched, entranced, as the mermaid swam closer to the boat. He could almost reach out and touch you, if only he dared. When you touched the side of the boat, he felt a surge of hope. Could it be that you were willing to communicate?

"I'm Kyle," he introduced himself, extending a hand towards you.

You watch his hand move through the water towards you. You takes it hesitantly, your grip firm yet gentle. You pull yourself closer to the boat, your body breaking the surface of the water. Your upper body is exposed now. You looks up at him, your eyes questioning as you introduced yourself.

Kyle heart raced as you pulled yourself closer to the boat, your body breaking the surface of the water. He was face-to-face with a mermaid, and you were even more breath taking than he'd imagined.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," he said, his voice trembling slightly from excitement. "I owe you my life." You hold his gaze, your eyes intense. You pull yourself further onto the boat, your lower half still submerged in the water. Your upper body is bare, your skin glistening with water droplets. You look at him curiously, taking in his features with equal intensity.

"Why do you keep coming back?" you asks, your voice soft yet steady.

Kyle swallowed hard as you pulled yourself fully onto the boat, your lower half still hidden beneath the water. His eyes traced the lines of your body, taking in your bare skin glistening with water droplets. You were even more beautiful up close.

"To see you," he admitted honestly, meeting your gaze. "To thank you properly for saving my life."

Your eyes narrow slightly as you process his answer. You take a moment to study him. To analyse his facial expressions, his tone of voice. Is he lying? Does he truly just want to thank you? Or is there something more? You can't read humans very well. They're too complex.

He met your gaze head-on, unflinching under your scrutiny. He understood your scepticism; after all, he would likely feel the same in your position. But his intentions were pure - he simply wanted to express his gratitude.

"If it helps," he offered, "I've brought you gifts." He gestured towards some sweet treats beside him.

You look at this gifts he brought you. Gifts? From a human? "What are they?" You questioned. Your gaze never leaving the gifts, you've never seen anything like them before. They look...spongy and pretty? He pointed out each item one by one - the fluffy, sweet-smelling muffins, and the rich, decadent chocolate cake. He hoped these would help bridge the gap between their two worlds.

"They're called muffins and cake," he explained. "They're sweet and delicious. Would you like to try one?" His question hung in the air, a silent plea for acceptance. You look at him sceptically and then back at the gifts. Muffins and cake? What a strange name, and you can eat them? You looked back at Kyle, your curiosity got the better of you. 

"Please" 

Kyle's heart swelled with delight when you agreed to try the food. He carefully picked up a muffin and held it out to you. "Here you go," he said, his voice filled with anticipation. "It's called a blueberry muffin." As he spoke, he couldn't help but marvel at how surreal this situation was. Here he was, on a boat in the middle of the ocean, offering cake to a mermaid.

You watch as he holds out the muffin to you. The gesture is kind and gentle, and you find yourself drawn to it. You reach out slowly, your fingers brushing against his as you take the muffin. Your touch is light, hesitant. You bring the muffin to your lips and takes a bite.

Your eyes widen in surprise as the flavours burst in your mouth. Sweetness, tanginess, a hint of crunchiness. It's overwhelming and amazing all at once. You chew slowly, savouring every bit before swallowing. Kyle watched as you took the muffin from his hands, his heart pounded in his chest as he waited for your reaction. When your eyes widened and you began to chew, he let out a sigh of relief. She liked it!

After finishing off the muffin, you look over at the..... Cake? Your eyes wide with curiosity. You reach out and pick up a piece of the cake, holding it up to inspect it. It's dark and moist looking, and smells divine. You bring the piece to your lips and takes a bite.

The taste is unlike anything you've ever experienced. Rich, sweet, and smooth. It melts in your mouth and leaves you wanting more. You place it on the boat before you hoist yourself up and sit on the edge of the boat, you fin swaying lazily in the water as you picked the cake back up.

Kyle watched in awe as you eagerly devoured the cake, your eyes lighting up with each bite. He couldn't help but smile widely, feeling a sense of satisfaction knowing that he had managed to share something new with you. "That's chocolate cake," he told you, pointing at the remaining piece. He leaned back against the boat, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere and the company of this intriguing creature.

You continue to eat the cake, savouring each bite. You look up at Kyle, studying him. There's something about him that's different from other humans you've encountered. He seems genuine, honest. Any regrets you had saving him were now gone.

He noticed the change in your demeanour. Your earlier suspicion seemed to have faded away, replaced by an almost friendly curiosity. He felt relieved. "I should probably start heading back soon," he mentioned, standing up and picking up the empty food wrappers. "But I'd love to come visit again sometime."

His words were sincere; he genuinely enjoyed spending time with you and wanted to get to know you better. You look at him as he stands up, and you notice his form is tall and lean. He moves with an ease that you admire. As he picks up the wrappers, you gently lower yourself back into the water. "Tomorrow?" You ask softly, your voice echoing the sincerity in your eyes.

Kyle was taken aback by your question. Tomorrow? He hadn't expected you to invite him back so soon. But the thought of seeing you again, sooner rather than later, filled him with excitement.

"I'd like that," he replied, a warm smile spreading across his face. "See you tomorrow then." With a final wave, he started the boat and drove it back to shore, leaving a trail of bubbles behind.

You watch as he drives the boat back to shore, your eyes following the trail of bubbles until they disappear completely. A small smile graces your lips as you dip back under the water, the surface reflecting the moon above.

Back on land, Kyle couldn't stop thinking about his encounter with you. His heart swelled with warmth as he replayed the events of the day in his mind. He found himself looking forward to tomorrow with eager anticipation.

The next evening, he arrived at the same spot as yesterday. He was excited to see you again, and brought more treats with him.

Kyle waited patiently, scanning the water's surface for any sign of you. After what felt like an eternity, there was a splash and you emerged from the depths, your wet hair slicked back and clinging to your skin. You swim towards him, a big smile on your face. When you reach him, you climb onto the boat and sat on the edge, dripping water everywhere. You look at the food he brought. For you.

Kyle's heart fluttered as you emerged from the water, your smile as radiant as ever. "Hey there," he greeted you, handing you the food. "I brought some more treats for you." You accept the food from him, your hand brushing against his. You take the food and begin eating it, savouring every bite just like you did yesterday. You glance up at him occasionally, a soft smile on your face.

He watched as you ate the food he'd brought, noting the soft smile that graced your lips when you looked at him. He felt a strange warmth spread through him, a sensation he'd never really experienced before. "Would you... like to go for a ride on the boat?" He asked, trying to keep his nervousness in check.

You tilt your head, your nose scrunched up in concentration. "How about we race instead?" You suggests, your voice lilting. "See what's faster. Me or the boat."

Kyle laughed, the sound echoing across the water. He loved your playful spirit. "A race it is," he agreed, starting the engine and adjusting the throttle. "But fair warning, I'm pretty competitive." With that, he revved the engine and waited for you to signal the start of the race. "So am I" you giggle as you dive into the water, disappearing beneath the waves before coming back up. "First one to that buoy over there wins." Kyle watched as you dove into the water, your movements graceful and fluid. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he waited for you to resurface.

"On your mark..." he called out, his gaze locked on the buoy. "Get set... GO!"

Without hesitation, he gunned the engine, sending the boat speeding through the water. The wind rushed past him, carrying with it the scent of the sea and the thrill of competition. As Kyle sped off, it caught you off guard, but you quickly caught up to him, your sleek tail easily keeping pace with the boat. You swam alongside Kyle, teasing him with your speed and agility. You laughed and disappeared beneath the waves, using your powerful tail to propel yourself through the water. You knew you had the advantage in this race, but you couldn't resist the opportunity to show off your skills to Kyle.

His heart pounded in his chest as he raced through the water, the wind rushing past him. He could see you right beside him, your speed and agility a testament to your nature. Just as he thought he might catch up to you, you would suddenly disappear, only to reappear further ahead. You were fast, incredibly fast. But Kyle wasn't one to give up easily. With renewed determination, he pushed the boat harder, matching your speed stroke for stroke.

You continue to tease Kyle, showing off your speed and agility. Your laughter echoes through the water as you dart in and out of his path. You enjoy watching him try to keep up with you. You flicked your tail to splash him, hoping to catch him off before you sped off again.

Kyle felt a rush of cold water as you splashed him, your laughter echoing in his ears. He could see the teasing glint in your eye as you darted away, your tail flicking playfully.

'She's enjoying this too much,' he thought, his determination growing stronger. He pressed the throttle even further, the boat responding eagerly. You continue to tease him, your laughter filling the air as you dodge his attempts to catch you. You love the way his face scrunches up in concentration, the determination in his eyes. You flick your tail to splash him again before darting off once more.

He let out a hearty laugh as the cold water splashed him again, his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel the power of the boat beneath him, its response to his command. 'She's got spirit,' he thought again, admiring your tenacity. As you darted away once more, he pursued you, determined to win this race.

You continued to lead him on, your laughter ringing out across the water. You enjoyed the thrill of the chase, the challenge of staying ahead. You flicked your tail to send another wave of water crashing over him before darting off again towards the buoy. You were close. So close. Kyle doesn't have a chance.

You see Kyle closing in on you, his determination clear. You decide to make one last dash for the buoy. You push yourself to your limits, your muscles straining as you use your powerful tail to propel yourself forward. You reach the buoy first, a triumphant grin on your face.

Kyle saw you pull ahead, your speed and agility leaving him in awe. As they neared the buoy, he gave it one last shot, propelling the boat forward with all his strength. He reached the buoy mere seconds after you, you brought your fin up out of the water and nudge him lightly, a playful smirk on your face. "Told you I was faster." You say, your laughter filling the air again.

He smiled, his heart still pounding in his chest. He could feel the salty spray of the ocean on his skin, the exhilaration of the race still fresh in his mind. "You were faster this time," he admitted, meeting your gaze with a playful smirk of his own. "But next time, I'll beat you." His words hung in the air between them, a promise of future races and the camaraderie that came with them.

You giggle, your eyes shining with mirth and satisfaction. You lean against the side of the boat, catching your breath from the race. "Oh will you now?" You say, your voice light and teasing.

Kyle nodded, his smile widening. His competitive spirit was already stirring, ready for the next challenge. "Oh yes," he said confidently, "I always keep my promises." His gaze lingered on you, appreciating your strength and resilience. You were a force to be reckoned with, and he couldn't wait to see what other adventures they'd share together.

You wink at Kyle, your eyes twinkling with mischief. You're not sure if you believe his claim, but you're looking forward to seeing if he can prove it. You stretch lazily, your muscles still tingling from the race. "I'm always up for a good challenge," he said, his gaze never leaving yours. "And if it means spending more time with you, then I wouldn't miss it for the world." His words were sincere, a testament to the bond they shared. Despite their differences, they understood each other, respected each other. And for that, Kyle was grateful.

You meet his gaze, your own eyes reflecting the same sense of camaraderie and trust. You understand his competitive spirit, his desire to test his limits. You respect him for it. "Good," you say simply, "because I like a good challenge too."

"Then it's a deal," he said, extending his hand for a shake. "To future races and adventures." As their hands met, the bond between them strengthened. They were partners in this journey, allies in a world where survival was often a game of wit and skill.

You take Kyle's hand, feeling the firmness of his grip. You squeeze gently, your eyes locked onto his. This is more than just a race or an adventure; it's a partnership, a bond forged in the depths of the ocean. "It's a deal," *you say, your voice steady and resolute. As you gaze at his hand clasped in yours, a sudden surge of alarm courses through you. A crimson stain blooms on his skin, seeping through the cracks in his weathered hand.

"Kyle, you're bleeding!" You exclaim, your voice a mixture of concern and urgency. The words dance across the surface of the water, creating tiny ripples that break the otherwise still surface.

He looked down to see a cut on his palm, blood trickling down his fingers. "Damn," he muttered, wincing slightly. "Must have caught it on something when we were racing." He glanced at you, a sheepish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Guess I'm not as invincible as I thought."

"Obviously," *you couldn't help but chuckle. You held your hand out. "Give me your hand." Your voice was firm, leaving no room for arguments. When Kyle didn't give you his hand, insisting that he was fine, you gently grabbed his wrist and brought his hand up to your lips but paused. You were about to do something that might seem a little...unconventional, to put it mildly.

"This is going to seem weird...and disgusting," you warned him, your voice softer now, almost apologetic. He looked at you, confusion etched on his face. You licked your lips, the saltiness of the ocean water leaving a metallic taste on your tongue. Then, you did it. You licked the palm of his hand, your tongue tracing the gash, the blood mingling with the salt.

Kyle watched, mesmerized, as you licked the wound on his hand. He felt a strange mix of discomfort and fascination, the sight both gross and oddly alluring. "What...the hell..." he muttered, though there was no real annoyance in his tone. He'd seen stranger things in his life, after all. Still, the sensation of your tongue against his skin sent a shiver down his spine. It wasn't unpleasant, but it definitely wasn't normal either.

He watched, transfixed, as you lapped at the cut on his hand. He could feel the coolness of the sea water mixed with the heat of your breath, the wetness of your tongue against his skin. It was an odd sensation, but not entirely unpleasant. "Damn," he breathed out, his voice low and rough. "That's...that's some crazy shit right there." But even as he spoke, he found himself leaning into the sensation, his body responding despite his mind trying to process the strangeness of it all.

You pull away from his hand, watching as the cut closes before your very eyes. The edges of the wound fuse together, sealing shut without so much as a scar. Your saliva does its job, healing the small injury instantly. "There," you softly say, feeling satisfied. "All better." You look up at Kyle, meeting his gaze. Your eyes glint with a knowing smile, a silent acknowledgment of the bizarre yet effective method of first aid you just employed.

Kyle stared at his healed hand, disbelief washing over him. He'd expected a few stitches, maybe a band-aid at most, but not this. Not a lick of his hand by a mermaid. "That's...fuckin' amazing," he said, shaking his head in awe. "I mean, I've seen some shit in my time, but this takes the cake." He lifted his hand to inspect it again, running his thumb over the smooth skin where moments ago had been a gaping cut. His mind raced, trying to comprehend how something so simple could have such profound results. "And here I thought you were just a pretty face," he added, flashing you a teasing grin.

A laugh bubbles up from deep within you, echoing around the two of you in the vast ocean. It's a sound that's as unexpected as it is infectious, causing Kyle to join in, his hearty laughter mixing with yours.

"Pretty face?" You echo, rolling your eyes playfully. "Oh, please. Don't flatter yourself." 

You poke him lightly in the chest, your fingertips pressing against his skin. The contact sends a spark of electricity coursing through you, reminding you of the connection between you and Kyle. "But I suppose there's more to you than meets the eye too," you add, giving him a sly smirk as you splashed some water on him with you tail.

He chuckled, enjoying the banter between the two of them. He leaned back in the boat, his arms folded behind his head as he watched the waves crash against the hull. The salty air filled his lungs, a stark contrast to the thick smoke and grime of his usual environment.

"You know what they say about judging books by their covers," he quipped, shooting you a playful wink. His attention shifted momentarily to the horizon, his mind wandering to the events of the day. From the adrenaline-fueled race to the peculiar healing technique, today had been anything but ordinary.

You lean against the boat, your head resting on the side as you watch the sun dip below the horizon. The sky puts on a show, painting the heavens in hues of pink, orange, and purple. "It's beautiful," you murmur, your voice barely audible above the gentle lapping of the waves against the hull of the boat. You turn to Kyle, a soft smile playing on your lips. "Wanna see another cool trick?"

Kyle turned to face you, his curiosity piqued. He'd seen plenty of sunsets in his lifetime, but none quite like this one. The colours seemed brighter, more vibrant, as if the world itself was putting on a show just for them. "Another trick, huh?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'm intrigued. What ya got?"

He leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows as he looked at you. There was a certain allure to you, a mystery that drew him in. You were unlike anyone he'd ever met, and he found himself wanting to know more about you.

You pat the side of the boat invitingly, a teasing smirk on your lips as your tail swishes behind you. "You've got to come in the water," you say, your voice a melody carried by the salty breeze. "Unless you're scared," you add, sending a playful splash of water towards him.

Kyle laughed, the sound rich and genuine. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had this much fun, or been around someone who could make him forget about everything else for a moment. "Nah, I ain't scared," he said, pushing himself off the boat and stepping closer to the edge. "Just don't want to get my good clothes wet," he joked, looking down at his jeans and t-shirt.

You giggle at his comment, the sound light and carefree. Your eyes sparkle with mischief as you hover near the edge, waiting for Kyle to take the plunge. "Well then, tough luck," you tease, flicking a droplet of water at him. "Just take your clothes off."

Kyle rolled his eyes, a chuckle escaping his lips. He stripped off his clothing, leaving him in nothing but his boxer shorts. The cool air sent a shiver down his spine, but he ignored it, focusing instead on the anticipation building within him. "Alright, alright," he said, holding his hands up in surrender. "I'm coming in. Just don't laugh when I start swimming like a brick, okay?" With that, he took a deep breath and plunged into the water, disappearing beneath the surface.

As he resurfaced, he blinked rapidly, adjusting his eyes to the dimmer light. He shook his head, sending droplets of water flying in all directions. "Fuck, that's cold!" he exclaimed, his teeth chattering slightly.

You burst out laughing at Kyle's exclamation, the sound echoing around the both of you. You swim closer to him, your tail flicking playfully. "Cold? For you, maybe," you tease, your voice muffled by the water. "But I'm used to it." You swim up to him, so close your noses are nearly touching. "Close your eyes," you murmur, your voice softer now.

Gaz hesitates for a moment, then obeys, shutting his eyes tight. You gently cup his cheeks, your cool hands a contrast to the warmth of his skin. He smells of salt and seaweed, a familiar scent of the ocean. You lean in and kiss him, your lips meeting with a soft, damp touch. You feel the surprise, then the wonder, as his breath catches in his throat. You don't linger, but with a swift movement, you submerge you both under the water.

Kyle felt a rush of something unfamiliar as your lips pressed against his. His eyes were squeezed shut, his senses heightened by the unusual situation. He felt the chill of the water envelop him completely as you pulled him under, the sensation of being submerged sending a jolt of fear through him.

But as quickly as it came, the fear faded, replaced by a sense of calm. He could breathe! It was strange, almost magical, feeling the oxygen fill his lungs without having to break the surface. He opened his eyes, blinking away the stinging saltwater, and saw you before him, your body glowing in the dim light.

You were beautiful, even under the water. Your hair fanned out around you, swirling like tendrils of silk. Your eyes glowed with mischief and joy, reflecting the light from above.

You pull back slowly, watching Kyle's reaction closely. A grin spreads across your face, seeing the awe in his eyes. You reach out, taking his hand in yours, leading him deeper into the water.

Kyle allowed himself to be led, his grip on your hand firm yet gentle. He moved through the water with a grace he hadn't known he possessed, the weightlessness allowing him to move with ease.

He glanced around, taking in the beauty of the underwater world. Fish darted past, their scales shimmering in the light filtering down from above. Corals waved gently, their colours vibrant and alive. The world around them became a blur of colour and movement, but only your presence remained constant. He felt a strange warmth spreading through him, not from the water, but from within. The sensation was overwhelming, intoxicating. It made him forget about the war, about the bloodshed, about the pain. All he cared about was the moment, this singular moment shared with you.

You lead Kyle further into the depths, the world around you growing darker and more mysterious. The pressure increases, adding an element of danger to your adventure. But you're undeterred, pulling him along with a determined look in your eyes.

Eventually, you stop, turning to face him. You place your hands on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. Your own heartbeat quickens, matching his rhythm. You lean in, pressing your forehead against his. In this moment, there's no need for words. Everything is understood between you, communicated through touch and glance. It's a silent promise, a vow sealed under the sea.

Kyle let you guide him, entrusting himself fully to you. As the pressure increased, he felt a thrill run through him, a mix of excitement and apprehension. But he wasn't afraid. Not with you. When they stopped, he looked into your eyes, seeing a depth there he hadn't noticed before. A kind of longing, perhaps? Or was it hope?

His heart pounded in his chest as you placed your hands on him, feeling the wild rhythm of his heart match yours. When you leaned in, pressing your forehead against his, he closed his eyes, savouring the moment. He held you tightly, not wanting to let go.

Your bodies are pressed close together, the slight friction creating a spark of electricity between you. Without warning, you pull back, grabbing his hand once again. You begin to swim upwards, towards the light. Your movements are graceful, powerful, guiding Kyle effortlessly towards the surface.

As they neared the surface, Kyle began to feel the urge to breathe. His lungs burned, craving air. But he waited, holding his breath, trusting you to bring them safely back to the world above. And then, suddenly, they broke through the surface. He gasped, sucking in a lungful of sweet, fresh air. He looked at you, gratitude and admiration shining in his eyes.

You emerge from the water, your body slick with wetness. You turn to Kyle, a triumphant smile on your face. "Pretty cool right?" He nodded, still trying to catch his breath. He looked at you, your body glistening in the moonlight, and he had to admit, it was pretty damn cool. "Unreal," he finally managed to say. He reached out, running his fingers through your wet hair. "I've never... I didn't know..." He shook his head, unable to find the right words.

Kyle moved closer, closing the gap between them. He reached out, tracing a finger down your arm, feeling the smooth skin beneath his touch. He leaned in, his lips hovering just inches from yours. He could taste the saltiness of the ocean on your lips, mixed with your unique flavour. It was intoxicating, making him want more. Before he could second guess himself, he kissed you. His lips pressed against yours, soft and seeking. The kiss was hungry, desperate, a reflection of the emotions swirling inside him.

Feeling Kyle's lips on yours sends a jolt through your system, lighting up every nerve ending. You respond eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. Your tongue slips past his lips, exploring the warm cavern of his mouth. You can taste the salt on his skin, mingling with the sweetness of his breath. It's a heady combination, one that makes you dizzy with desire. Breaking the kiss, you pull back slightly, looking into Kyle's eyes. There's a hunger there, a need that mirrors your own. And it's a need that you're more than willing to satisfy.

You lean in again, kissing him deeply, losing yourself in the moment.

[argisthebulwark]

Did I Find You, Or You Find Me?

summary: Due to forces outside of your control, you've found yourself stuck in an arranged marriage. f!reader, no y/n used. feat: Brynjolf, Miraak, Vilkas, Farkas, Arnbjorn warnings: they're long lol. alcohol consumption, not super healthy relationship dynamics, a bit suggestive a/n: i meant to put some more fellas in here but tumblr was struggling to load this draft so i'll have to do a part two masterlist

Brynjolf

Born as the middle daughter of the Black Briar family you are fully aware of their interactions with the Thieves Guild. You've watched your mother meet with Brynjolf, catching glimpses when you're instructed to carry in stacks of paperwork or clearing away empty wine bottles after a long negotiation. His flirtatious remarks remarks leave you breathless, never going further than a shared smile or brushing shoulders in the hall.

As a middle child, you've often found yourself in an odd position - you're an adult and are expected to handle many responsibilities, yet still infantilized by your siblings. Often forgotten between Sibbi and Ingun's rebellions and Hemming's single minded dedication to the family, you're expected to pick up the pieces without making a fuss.

"We need to solidify our ties with the Thieves Guild." Mother's sharp voice interrupts your dinner. You nod along, picking at your potatoes and planning out the rest of your week. "How old are you now?"

"Twenty four."

"Oh, good!" The excited tone of her voice rouses suspicion. You peek up at your mother, heart ramming against your ribs - she's never taken an interest in your life before. This can lead nowhere good.

You can only hope that silence will make her forget you. Her schedule is usually so full that you're allowed to exist out of her eyeline - taking a few extra moments in the market to flip through some books or visiting Ingun in the alchemy shop to chat. There is joy to be found in those small moments when you escape from her calculated gaze.

Of course this doesn't happen. Before the week is out you find yourself standing in the Temple of Mara, heart in your throat and siblings snickering from the pews. The handsome thief is gentle when he holds your hands, voice a bit shaky as he reiterates every vow back to the priest.

Returning to the Ratways feels odd. You part from your family, ink drying on the many contracts as Brynjolf - your husband - leads you through the Cistern. You feel a bit like you're floating as the events of the day settle on your mind. Panic chokes out all rational thought - who will ensure that the animals are fed and organize the contracts in your absence?

"I'm sorry - this all happened so fast, you may need to show me around once more when my mind stops spinning." You can't recall half of what he's pointed out and your feet are aching. You gulp, staring up at Brynjolf's kind eyes.

"Don't worry, lass." That soft grin makes your heart race when he shows you the private quarters, a small room branching off from the tavern. "We're in the same boat, you've got me."

With each day that passes, that knot in your chest lessens. The anxiety shrinks as you settle into your new life, finding the lack of routine comfortable - no list of chores awaits you, no one calls for you to sit in on meetings. After twenty four years of responsibility it is terrifying to realize that no one expects anyone from you.

Despite all the initial fears you find yourself flourishing. Far from your mother's prying eyes you discover that you enjoy hearing stories from the other thieves, Vex and Delvin teaching you a few tricks and Tonilia offering to scrounge up a set of armor. No longer are you Maven's daughter or Hemming's sister - you are yourself.

Brynjolf maintains a respectable distance, never straying too far but making no moves toward romance. He acknowledges that your partnership is just that - an agreement set forth by others, it is not a true marriage. He joins you for dinner each night, finding himself eager to hear about what you've done that day.

"What did you mean back then?" You finally ask, surprised at how steady your voice has become. Brynjolf's gaze still makes your heart flutter but you no longer feel the need to shrink away from it.

"By what, lass?"

"When you said we're in the same boat."

"Ah." He leans closer, voice conspiratorially low. Your cheeks flush when his fingers dance over yours, barely a touch. "Well, I'm guessin' you weren't exactly excited by the prospect of marrying a stranger, yeah?"

"It wasn't my first choice."

"Wasn't part of my plan, either." You hate how your stomach drops at the admission. Of course you're aware that he hadn't truly wanted you, but that knowledge does little to soothe the sting.

"Delvin's too old and Vex hates dealin' with your mother." His eyes drop to where your fingers have twisted together, the toes of his boots brushing yours. "I didn't plan on it bein' me but I couldn't stomach the thought of anyone else marryin' you."

The weeks blend into months, changes in your life slow but steady. Brynjolf sets aside time each week to teach you how to wield a dagger. Your beds scoot closer and you stay up later talking, candles burning down to nubs while you share every little shred of yourselves. He tells you of this the people he's lost and you share the desperation you've always felt for more, blushing when he jokes about the fulfilling life of a thief.

Your confidence continues to blossom the longer you're away from your family, brave enough to disregard a direct summons from your mother. Somewhere she is steaming, Hemming probably cursing your name at her side. It's freeing to realize how little you care.

"Proud of you, lass." Brynjolf grins when you bounce up to him, excitedly recounting how cool it felt throwing her letter in the fire. His hand is warm when it cups your cheek. "How should we celebrate?"

A bit drunk on your newly found courage, you kiss him. You've thought about it for months, stomach fluttering when you first noticed the way his eyes linger on you. It's quick and your lips tingle a bit when your husband chuckles, already leaning in for another.

Miraak

"All of our efforts to reign in Miraak have failed." Arngeir's eyes pin you in place. Your ass is going numb from those stone seats but there's no escaping this conversation. "Dragonborn, the Jarls continue to call for action."

"I have tried everything to defeat Miraak."

"Yet we remain unsuccessful." Biting your tongue barely contains the multitude of protests. Your body bears scars from the many times you've faced Miraak and his cultists, brain addled by the ages you'd spent combing through Apocrypha's twisting hallways.

"Miraak has a clear interest in you." Borri chimes in, voice hoarse from lack of use.

"He speaks the truth, Dragonborn." Arngeir concurs. "We have formulated a new plan. The Jarls have approved, as have many leaders from Solstheim."

"Wonderful." You grumble, hauling yourself to your feet. Might as well start preparing. "What is this new plan of attack?"

"You will offer yourself to Miraak."

"Your plan is to sacrifice me?" The shrill tone of your voice echoes off the stone walls. "How will my death resolve anything?"

"Not as a sacrifice. As a bride."

Despite your many protests, it seems that Miraak could not pass up an opportunity to get under your skin. He agrees to the proposition - you become his partner and he scales back the attacks on civilians. The rage becomes almost mind numbing. You cannot believe that this plan is being enacted, that your elders are offering you up for the mere promise of peace.

When Arngeir bustles you out the door he instructs you to slay the First Dragonborn. His voice is stern when he informs you that you will not be welcomed back to Skyrim's shores until Miraak is dead. The old men don't listen to a single protest that passes your lips, somberly shaking their heads and claiming that this is the last resort. Their trust is placed in you.

There is no ceremony, no hint of romance - just your stack of books and a bout of seasickness as you're ferried to Solstheim. Cultists meet you at the dock, Raven Rock entirely silent as too many pairs of eyes watch them escort you to Miraak's palace. You walk with your chin held high and pray that no one notices the fear simmering just under your skin.

Miraak's glare tracks each move you make as you prowl through his manor. You keep your distance, intent on finding some hidden weakness that will break him without rousing too much suspicion. You circle one another, neither willing to break the peace and strike first. Even when you are alone he maintains some sort of mask - always obscuring at least half of his face, never giving you a full view.

Meals are silent except for thinly veiled threats. Doors to both bed chambers are locked and barred each night. You find comfort in his library, sprawling shelves holding volumes thought long lost and safe from the mind bending power of Apocrypha. On days when you grow too exhausted to search you tuck yourself away into a secluded corner of the library and read until your eyes can't focus.

"You do not have to hide." Miraak's deep voice shocks you out of your reading. He eyes the stack of books at your side and you feel terribly vulnerable. "This is now your home as much as it is mine."

Clearly displeased with your lack of response, he huffs and walks away. Your brain struggles to catch up - the usual nasty tone of his voice was gone, something almost kind about the way he'd spoken to you. It's disconcerting.

Thankfully, you are too preoccupied with your assignment to notice how deeply he burns for you. You do not see the heat behind his glare or the tension in his body when you drift too near, barely keeping a leash on the gut wrenching desire.

Miraak finds it quite easy to convince himself that he detests you - the flipping of his gut is mere disgust and your permanent place in his dreams is blamed on that damned prophecy. You are too distracted sniffing around for clues to notice how deeply and shamefully he wants you.

"What is it you seek?" His voice nearly stops your heart. Blade aimed for his chest you whirl around, scolding yourself for lowering your guard enough for him to get so close. You pause, gaping at the face he's hidden behind masks for months and fight back the horrible wave of attraction.

The crooked nose, stubble trailing up his jaw, dark eyes glaring down at you. Grey streaks are visible where his hair's pushed away from his forehead. A scar drags through his lower lip, drawing far too much of your attention. Grinding your teeth against the way your cheeks blush, you summon every ounce of vitriol you can.

"None of your business."

"Incorrect. You are in my study."

"What I am searching for does not regard you."

"Doubtful, little dragon." You curse your heart for flipping at that pet name. Miraak's grin is nearly a snarl when he leans closer, unable to keep himself away from you any longer.

For one night, he will release his self control. He will make himself vulnerable if it means he can get a bit closer to you.

Vilkas

As the eldest daughter of a Jarl, your duties never cease. Keeping an eye on your siblings, watching the advisors in preparation for your role, learning from wizards and teachers and warriors alike - it is endless. From a young age you'd intended on caring for your beloved city of Whiterun whether you acted as Jarl or advisor, content with putting in the work for your future.

"We need a foot in the door with the Companions." Proventus' words had roused no suspicion at the time - he'd said similar things about the guild before. "They are unregulated, acting entirely separate from us."

"This is true." Your father had turned to you, heart in your throat at the prospect of proving yourself. You'd fine tuned your political knowledge over the past few years and finally, an opportunity to prove yourself to his court. "Can you be trusted with this task?"

You had no clue what you were agreeing to. You'd anticipated a cordial relationship, that you would be acting as a emissary. You expected to form a diplomatic relationship with the Companions. You'd met a few warriors for training but the prospect of working with them was intriguing, their reputation was equally vicious and respectable.

You try to keep it together for the first meeting. Kodlak Whitemane is intimidating but you stand tall beside your father, chin held high and sword strapped to your side. It has never tasted blood but the advisors had insisted upon you looking your best, presenting yourself as a capable fighter.

Kodlak's warriors appear cleaned up, though you notice the scars - tattoos swirl between the gaps in their armor and wary eyes watching every shadow. The one at his side looks ready to implode; hand wrapped menacingly around the hilt of his sword and dark eyes sweeping over you with barely contained disdain. He sneers, clearly seeing through your carefully placed facade. Your stomach drops when he stands only a few paces from you, arms crossed over his broad chest.

The meeting moves too fast to follow. Kodlak and your father speak in hushed tones, all the other advisors cloistered around them. Notably, you are left out - they must be bartering on your behalf, right? Why else would you be left out of the conversation? Three Companions stand at your side, each appearing equally annoyed.

"May I ask why your folks seem displeased?" You whisper to the man at your side, the one who appears less standoffish than the others. Soft brown eyes blink back at you, a short laugh badly disguised as a cough.

"Surprised you're takin' this so well. We had bets on you running out."

"What?"

"Aela thought you'd last through the discussions. I thought you'd bolt as soon as you saw him. And Vilkas, well he refused to make a bet." The man laughs again, a hand extended toward you. Your head is spinning when the dark haired man walks off in a huff, his anger radiating through the hall.

"Vilkas?"

"Yeah." You follow where he points out the man now shouldering his way into the circle of advisors. "Your new husband."

Despite his initial vitriol, Vilkas is annoyingly formal. He speaks to you as a member of the court - stiff and respectful. He spends little time in your company, taking every assignment offered by his elders to get him out of the city.

You can't say it isn't hurtful. Your union was one of mutual convenience for your families but to see your husband so clearly uninterested wounds you. Your conversations are brief, each focused entirely on whatever business Kodlak has with your father.

You hold your chin high, remaining in your father's home and listening to the advisors fret. Your visits to Jorrvaskr are not unpleasant but there is a notable lack of progress - Aela and Farkas are friendly, Athis slowly warms to you, but it is abundantly clear that they all view you as an outsider. Vilkas can barely remain in the hall, his brother kindly making excuses on his behalf.

Sleeping in your childhood bedroom as a married adult feels strange, though you console yourself with the knowledge that it is not a real marriage. No rings or tender words had been exchanged. It was merely a contract signed by Kodlak and your father on your behalf. You drift off to sleep with the image of Vilkas in your head, wracking your brain for what can be done to smooth things out.

"Hey."

Scrambling for the knife under your pillow, you barely manage to swallow the scream building in your throat. With the blade quivering in your hand you aim it toward your attacker's chest. Vilkas' dark eyes glare down at you, hair mussed and usual armor missing. You blink a few times when turns toward the door.

"Can't sleep. You coming?"

"Coming where?"

"Anywhere but here."

He hardly says a word when you stride out of Dragonsreach. He scoffs at the way you sneak past the guards, dagger still gripped in your hand. You follow him down the chilly steps until you're seated on a bench, backs to the Gildergreen.

"Sorry." He grumbles, dropping his cloak around your shoulders. "Bet you're freezing."

You're too stunned to question it. The cloak smells of him and you find yourself burrowing deeper into it, the first kind move he's made. Vilkas sits at your side, glaring out at the starry sky for what feels like hours.

"What is happening?" You finally ask, glancing over at him. You catch his striking profile, outlined by the silvery moonlight of late night; the sharp bridge of his nose and harsh brows, the lips that look surprisingly soft when they aren't grimacing. Your stomach flips when his eyes slide to you, though they appear uncharacteristically kind.

"Needed to get out for a bit." He shrugs, heaving a sigh. "Figured you could use a break from that place."

It's hard to predict when he will seek you out. Vilkas only appears in the dead of night, often the night before he departs for an assignment. You wander through Whiterun, enjoying the emptiness of the town while he tells you of his recent missions. You are giddy each time he refuses your attempts to return his cloak, wrapping it around your shoulders to walk aimlessly at his side.

Not wanting the conversations to be one sided, you soon find yourself sharing more. Stories of court and your siblings feel boring in comparison but Vilkas seems interested. He remembers names remarkably well, asking after your brother's injured arm weeks after you'd brought it up.

It takes months for you to broach the topic of your future. You've grown comfortable in his company, no longer unsettled by the intensity of his gaze. He is still far from a husband but there is something like friendship blooming between you, an attraction that squeezes at your heart each time he smiles at you.

"I just want to be free." You admit, gazing out over the horizon. As you've spoken the sunrise has begun, rays of pink and orange reaching out to steal the night. You have to return to Dragonsreach soon before everyone else wakes. Despite that reasoning you find yourself leaning into Vilkas' shoulder, heart fluttering when he accepts your touch.

"Free?" He snorts, chin resting on the top of your head. "You're the Jarl's kid, you can do whatever you want."

"I've never made a choice for myself - I didn't even get to choose my husband." Clearly the lack of sleep has loosened your tongue. Vilkas chuckles, a sound that never fails to warm your heart.

"That's fair." He sighs, staring over your shoulder at Jorrvaskr. He's sure that the others have already awoken, chest tight with the unending duties threatening to drown him. "Someday, when we're done solving everyone else's problems, we'll get out of here."

Farkas

Since an early age, you've been warned to stay away from the Companions - their shimmering armor and heroic deeds are inviting but they do not live like you do. Their beast blood is a secret held only by those in the highest ranks, hidden away from the rest of their guild. You've never understood the secrecy but abide by your parents' warnings, heeding the wisdom of your pack.

Numbers have dwindled over the years. Tales told around the long table recount times when your pack commanded Whiterun's rolling plains, hunting and celebrating to their hearts' content. Each generation shrunk - the beast blood not passing on to younger generations and civilization encroaching upon the wilds. Handfuls of families have splintered off, some moving to new Holds while others joined larger packs.

You're fairly certain your hearing must be failing - after ages of warning every wolf off from dealing with the local guilds, your grandmother grimaces around those unbelievable words.

"What?"

"We can no longer survive on our own." She reiterates, your ears ringing. "These lands have been overhunted and new farms claim acres of land every day. Now with the Silver Hand moving into Whiterun," she sighs, gathering herself. Tears prick at your eyes when she rests a wrinkled hand on your shoulder. "Our family has entered an agreement with the Companions."

"Okay." You're struggling to wrap your head around this change but you'll manage - the pit in your stomach for months could finally cease. You know that food sources are growing scarce and numbers are falling but you're still a bit lightheaded at the finality of her statement.

"We've assured their continued support. They cannot back out of this deal."

"How? What do we have to give them?"

"You and some of the others will be married to the younger members of their inner circle."

It's like a punch to the gut. Your marriage is still a handful of years off but you will never forget about it - wondering each day if this is your last before being shackled to the Companions for the rest of your life. Your first meeting happens during a celebratory dinner, your heart in your throat as Kodlak presents the members of his pack.

One boy glowers across the hall and sneers at anyone who dares to speak to him. His brother stands nearby, a friendly smile on his face when Kodlak's hand lands on his shoulder. You can only pray that you aren't partnered with the unpleasant one.

"I'm Farkas." The kind boy introduces himself, calloused hand warm against yours. It takes a moment to remember your name - thankfully, your grandmother pats your shoulder and speaks for you.

"Nice to meet you." You choke out, terrified to be staring into the face of your future husband. His smile comes easily, dimples in his cheeks eyes radiating kindness. Light brown hair is braided out of his face and a broadsword is strapped across his well muscled back.

You spend the night awaiting the horrible stories your elders passed down to come true - that the Companions will shame your way of life or scoff at the state of your hall, but they are amiable. A bit reserved but they do nothing to earn your distrust. They share food and drink hauled down from their hall, listening intently to the stories told by your parents.

Farkas fits in too well. Even after Kodlak and the others stop visiting, contracts signed and goods exchanging hands, Farkas keeps coming. He shows up on your mother's doorstep with an armful of food and brings your siblings presents on their birthdays. Each time he appears you're shocked - this was sold to you as a marriage of convenience, one to fully unite your families. The grin on his face when he teaches your brother how to properly swing a sword or his willingness to help clear the dishes after dinner make you wonder if he was told something different.

Even as the season of your intended wedding approaches you cannot scrape up any distaste for him. You find your heart fluttering when Farkas rolls up his sleeves to help your father chop firewood or falls onto your bed at your side, curiously eyeing whatever book you're reading. You've both grown into a comfortable friendship, choosing to not speak of what awaits you only a few months away.

"Wanna go for a walk?" Farkas offers, eyes sliding your way. Even after all these years he still makes speech difficult, the friendly smile causing your brain to stop functioning. He's asked the question dozens of times but there's something loaded behind his words that makes this feel different. He's so careful when he holds your hand, clearly giving you space to shake him off.

Farkas follows the same path as always around local farms, a pleasant expression on his face but you feel the nerves radiating from him. Perhaps you've just got enough anxiety for you both.

"What's wrong?" You blurt, unable to contain the nerves any longer. Eyes sparkling in the moonlight Farkas turns to you and you're certain the whole valley can hear your heart ramming against your ribs.

"I want to marry you." His voice is uncharacteristically serious.

"That's been arranged since we were kids."

"No, I mean for real." Farkas insists, chilly fingers tracing the shape of your cheek. You've been close to others but nothing has felt like this, no one else has set your skin ablaze with a simple touch.

"I need you to know that I'm not just doing this because Kodlak said to. I want to be here with you, with your family - I want you."

It takes a few minutes to digest that - he wants you. Farkas is patient when you work through that, fingers tightening around yours as he awaits an answer. Butterflies erupt in your stomach when you finally voice the feelings you've ignored for years.

"I want you, too."

Kissing him is so easy, it feels natural. He smells like home; the hands cupping your face are stained from helping your parents cook and the scent of your fireplace clings to hair you'd tied back. Farkas kisses you like it's the first time he's taken a breath, needy and desperate. His nose brushes yours before he's pulling back, that comforting smile rousing butterflies in your gut.

The wedding you'd spent years dreading surpasses all your expectations. Farkas cries the moment he sees you, tears streaming down his cheeks when he pledges each day of his life to yours. You pointedly ignore all the vows regarding duty and tradition - you love this man. You've fallen in love with him slowly and without realizing it, loving him a bit more each day you've spent with him. He speaks of his love for you and respect for your family, summoning fat tears in your eyes when he kisses you.

"Thanks for lovin' me." He murmurs into your hair, crushing you to his chest.

Arnbjorn

"You should do it."

"Absolutely not."

"It's the best way to ensure the survival of both our Guilds!" Delvin insists, that smug look on his face. He thinks he's already won. "If we don't come to an agreement, our groups are bound to cannibalize each other. Our customer base and services are too similar."

"All good points."

"Every Jarl is out for our blood and both of our Guilds have recently lost leaders." It's annoying how correct he is. Delvin nudges the ale toward you, clearly urging you to consider. "A partnership would solve nearly all our problems."

"And why can it not be a business partnership?" You ask, accepting the drink. "Your relationship with the Brotherhood has stood since before I even joined the Guild, has something caused you to doubt it?"

"Unfortunately." Delvin's expression sours at that. "Their new leader."

You agree to a meeting with their new leader, expecting the Listener - they've visited a few times when the Brotherhood needed Delvin's aid, most recently during their move to Dawnstar. Your friendship is easy but holds no attraction, certainly nothing that would tempt you into a marriage.

"The Listener isn't their official leader." Delvin corrects you at the last minute, the group of shadows entering the Flagon. "It's the old leader's widower."

He stands before you, intimidatingly tall and muscled. Unimpressed eyes shamelessly comb through the crowd of thieves, white hair braided away from a handsome face. Delvin's elbow nudges yours and your face burns when you stumble over your introduction, clearing your throat before the conversation begins.

It's rough. Their leader, Arnbjorn, clearly lacks his former partner's knack for negotiation. You'd only encountered Astrid a couple times before her death but remembered her way of speaking, calculated with a constant threat in each word. Arnbjorn is much more straightforward, the Listener and Nazir looking a bit uneasy at his side.

"I have no need of a wife." He speaks plainly, earning a glare from his companions. "My hands are full running the Brotherhood and looking after the recruits."

"My thoughts exactly." you concur, though the conversation spirals away from that point once again.

Gods, you feel like this is never going to end. Hours pass and Delvin's sheet of notes has become illegible. The Listener is predictably quiet, taking in everyone's words while Delvin and Nazir hash out the details - where barriers for contracts should be, how to notify the other, who can recruit in what regions. After far too many drinks their words devolve into an obnoxious drone.

You aren't entirely sure anyone notices when you excuse yourself. Maybe a breath of fresh air will clear your head. You're certain that the sun has risen and quite possibly fallen once more since the negotiations had begun, shuffling your way through the Cistern in search of the outdoors.

"Hey."

Two strong fingers grab your elbow just as you're about to climb to freedom. You turn, sucking in a deep breath when you realize that you're cramped into the secret passageway with Arnbjorn. His cheeks are flushed - he's had even more drinks than you, leaning on the wall for support.

"What?" You try to sound sure of yourself despite the distracting closeness of his body. It's troubling how handsome he is. Arnbjorn blinks at you, sucking in a deep breath before speaking.

"I didn't want you to think my protests have anything to do with you." He clears his throat, obviously struggling to speak so plainly. "It's just - my wife passed away. You're very pretty but I have to think about the Brotherhood."

"I understand." You breathe, unable to ignore the way his eyes seem glued to your mouth. He leans a bit closer and you can smell him, smoke and pine and you fight back the wave of attraction.

Kissing him is foolish. You know this. It is a dumb mistake that you cannot stop yourself from making, closing the tiny distance between you. His lips are warm and god, the large hand curling around your waist and drawing you closer feels divine. His body presses to yours, crowding you against the stone wall until you can feel every delicious inch of him.

"Oh gods -" Delvin's voice shatters the moment. You're shrinking back, Arnbjorn stumbling a few steps away but it's too late. Your face burns when Delvin and the Listener's stares pin you in place. "Well, looks like our problem solved itself."

Marrying him is strange. Arnbjorn is stiff and standoffish, barely grumbling when the arrangements are drawn up. It's hard to forget that kiss, heat creeping into your cheeks every time the memory emerges. He's not unkind, just unwaveringly professional.

"If you're not interested in your wife," the client's words are slurred when he nudges Arnbjorn. "Mind if I take a swing?" A few too many celebratory drinks have been shared after your first successful joint contract. He stares intently at you, arousal pounding through his veins at the sight of you wearing Brotherhood armor.

"What?" The wave of sheer rage catches him off guard. Arnbjorn glares down at the drunken lord, anger building when the man leers toward your group of thieves. He's restrained himself for so long, ignored the way your eyes linger and seek him out because of his damned principles - but he will not allow this.

"You clearly don't want her. No harm in someone else gettin' a chance, right?" The man grumbles into his goblet. "After all the coin I handed out for this job -"

All conversation ceases when Arnbjorn bolts out of his seat. Before you can ask what's wrong he's stalking toward you, fingers gentle but insistent when they grip your chin and tilt your lips toward his. His kiss is full of heat, brain flooding with unabashed arousal as your husband's hips press firmly into yours.

"What's this all about?" You pant, cheeks burning bright red when his nose brushes yours.

"Don't worry about it." Arnbjorn grumbles against your lips. He'll let his reservations slip for this evening of celebration. He tells himself that he will rebuild all those walls in the morning, allowing himself this one night as your husband.

[incorrect-hs-quotes]

JOHN: why do they always show cranberries in those big pits and it's implied it's wet and possibly swimmable. do cranberries really grow like that. what.

ROSE: You've never heard of The Bog?

JOHN: th. the what?

ROSE: Hm. I forget some people don't understand New England.

JOHN: each additional comment you add makes my blood run cold.

ROSE: Well, then, yes, cranberries grow in large clumps called bogs. Once they're ripe, the bog is flooded and the cranberries are harvested, basically by using big floating nets to round them all up and scooping them out of the water.

JOHN: ok thank you. i hate it a little less. the horrible little man in my head is still screaming "BOG BODY BOG BODY BOG BODY", but i appreciate the education.

ROSE: Additionally, you don't just flood the bog and then go around it in a boat, or whatever. No, you use hip waders to get in there and put the big floating nets where they go and get all the berries and such.

ROSE: And many cranberry farms opt for organic or sustainable pest control methods, one of which is encouraging wolf spiders to live in the cranberry field and eat the bugs to keep insect damage down.

JOHN: wait.

ROSE: And, well, when you're in the bog in hip waders, that makes you the tallest thing. Wolf spiders can swim a bit, but they don't like it, so they are, quite understandably, looking to climb out of the water onto a tall thing. So you will probably have, like, a hundred wolf spiders trying to climb your eyebrows. You have to be chill, though, because the spiders are also employees.

ROSE: If you ever want to go wading in a cranberry bog, just make sure you're cool with spiders.

JOHN: ...i want you to know, really truly know, that "make sure you're cool with spiders" is not a specific enough statement for that situation.

[strawburry01]

Stuck in the Middle With You (Camp Pt 2)

Angus Tully x femme! Reader

Summary: You and Angus take your campers out for the lake day.

AN: I’m sorry part 1 was so context heavy. Also if you want more I have a few bits from college Angus x reader you can check out, like this, and this!

“Mary! Remember, no running okay!”, you shouted ahead to the nimble camper. She slowed down with a sheepish look on her face and waited by a nearby tree.

“I’m sorry Lightning I’m just so excited to go swimming. My momma got me swim lessons and I can even float on my back now!”, she excitedly explained.

“Whoah no way! You’re gonna have to show me,” you said with a smile. You really enjoyed these summer days. You’d gotten pretty lucky this summer to have a good group of gals. None seemed drawn to cause mischief, but the summer was still young. Mary continued to talk about all her swim lessons she’d taken, and the line of other campers followed behind. It was their first time at the lake, and there was nervous excitement in the air.

After following the path for a little longer, there was finally a downhill slope to the sandy beach that had a few canoes stacked up, with some old beach chairs lined up with lifejackets laid on top of them. The shallower area was roped off with floating buoys, and a wooden platform stood near the back. This was where folks usually dared, or pushed, each other off. Occasionally where the counselors would go skinny dipping, but you would never do such a thing. Except that one time, oops!

You sent the girls to the small locker room to get ready and started maneuvering one of the canoes off the stack. You usually liked to row around while they were in the water.

“Need some help there?” a familiar voice asked from nearby. You looked up only to find the smug face of that damn Angus Tully. He didn’t wait for a response before picking up the other end of the boat and helping you shuffle it into the water. You heard his boys run to their own locker room, hooting and hollering.

“Having an alright first couple days?” you asked as you both set down the canoe. You folded your arms and looked over at him, still not forgetting how much of a little pain in the ass he was before.

“Oh yeah it’s been great. Haven’t been getting much sleep, but I expected that much,” he said with a nod as he yawned and stretched his arms above his head. You turned to look at the changing room instead of his rising shirt. “So are we both doing the safety spiel or…” he asked as he looked back over at the locker room where the kids were all starting to pile out of.

“Why? You trying to get out of it?” you asked with a raised eyebrow.

“As if,” he scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“If you think this summer is going to be easy Angus you’re sorely mistaken. I’ll let you know I take this job very seriously and I won’t be having your slacking off ass get in the way of it,” you said as you pointed an accusing finger at his chest. He took hold of your accusatory point and shook it before dropping it.

“I’ll have you know I take serious things plenty serious,” he said, before turning to his group of boys. Idiot , you thought to yourself as you turned to your own group.

“Alright campers! Welcome to your first day at the lake! Before we can get in, me and my best friend Thunder are here to go over swim safety!” you announced to the kids, who were all already squirming to get into the water. You could see Angus hold back a laugh as you begrudgingly used his camp name.

“Aw thank you Lightning,” he said as he dramatically put a hand to his heart.

The two of you were able to muster through water safety for the campers, who luckily all already knew how to swim. The kids all shrieked and stormed into the water as soon as you were done talking.

“Great work oh mighty leader,” Angus said as he stepped beside you, watching the water. You hated his attitude but you did appreictae his attention.

“You picked it up there at the end,” you smirked back, elbowing his side. The two of you stood there and watched the kids for a bit before you shuffled back to the canoe. You threw off your staff shirt to reveal your bikini top you had under it. In case of emergency you really didn’t want to get your shirt smelling like lake water for the rest of the camp. You turned to grab a paddle only to catch Angus’s eyes staring down at you.

“I was uh- going to ask if you needed company out on the rough waters,” he stammered before eventually pulling his eyes back up to yours.

“You’re insufferable did you know that?” you sighed as you tossed him a spare paddle. “Do I not get a show?” you questioned as you sat in the canoe and started attempting to push off the bottom and into the lake. With that he quickly yanked off his own staff shirt and gave the canoe a firm push before jumping into the canoe, nearly tipping it over in the process. You were able to contain your swears around the young ears.

The two of you paddled around the perimeter of the swimmers, keeping an eye on them.

“Mary! Your swimming looks great!” you said to the beaming camper who responded by kicking a away, sending a splash into your face. You laughed to yourself.

“Damn, you really like these kids huh?” Angus noted from behind you.

“Yeah of course. I remember what it’s like to be their age. I know it’s tough out there in the real world, so I’ve just wanted this place to be somewhere good for them,” you said as you turned and stopped paddling for a second.

“That’s- really sweet,” Angus said sincerely as he also stopped paddling. You smiled and he smiled back. Oh what the fuck, he can actually be decent sometimes.

But you couldn’t ruminate on it. You turned back around and kept paddling. Eventually the two of you navigated just outside of the swimmers zone, just to make sure nobody was going to get an accidental concussion.

Things were going good, and you were even feeling pretty okay about Angus. Maybe you were too harsh on him at first. There was a growing horde of campers on the wooden platform, trying to see who could make the biggest splash. The group whispered and pushed each other before eventually the brave one emerged.

“Hey Thunder! Are you and Lightning dating?!” one of the boys shouted, red faced.

Angus laughed and your face reddened as you slapped whatever part of him you could reach behind you.

“Whoah, Lightning watch out you’re rocking the boat!” Angus laughed as he grabbed both sides and began to rock.

“No! Don’t you dare you- you-“ you hissed as you twisted to pry his hands off the edges. This fucker was going to flip the boat.

“Oh no!!” he shouted to the screaming delight of everyone on the dock as he finally flipped the canoe over, sending both of you into the water. You quickly bobbed back up under the boat, an air pocket formed in the now overturned boat. Angus popped up a few seconds later, his curly hair now sticking to his face. He grinned maniacally. He opened his mouth for another quick quip, but before he could get another word out you grabbed his shoulders and shoved him back under water. You quickly turned to try and figure out the next move, only to feel a grip on your angle that tugged you under. The two of you kept grabbing each other and yanking each other under until eventually you both were gasping for air underneath the canoe, face to face.

“God dammit-“ you wheezed, “never do that again,”.

You felt his hand ghost over your hips before coming up to his face to push back his hair from his face.

“No promises”

[catiuskaa]

the poem about home.

sum: redamancy: (n.) the act of loving the one who loves you; a love returned in full.

wc: 1.1k

[☆★ 🌌 ★☆]

there’s a silence that falls down the room, even if it’s not as fast as your tears. it’s impendent gloom had threatened to carve a hole in your chest for days, the weight of it looming over you like a curse you couldn’t get rid off, a lump in your throat that dried off your mouth and tightened your chest.

and ultimately, it had fallen.

you were welcomed by his shoes in front of the door, a view that while it made you cheerful inside, excited to see him again, made the aforementioned feeling seep in deeper, simmering with worry.

he was not supposed to be there.

why would he be there, when you both had agreeded that this, that it couldn’t work and that the best choice was leaving something that hadn’t started?

it’s a memory that you cannot run away from, because ever since then there it was, casting its grey over you because you had accepted said fate and that if that was what he wanted you were okay with his choice thinking you couldn’t miss him if you hadn’t already kissed him.

what a lie.

you throw your umbrella to the floor and you kick your shoes off, and it feels like the fastest you’ve done so in ages, not bothering for a second about the wood that could get stained or scratched or how you’ll probably regret merely throwing your jacket off.

you scan the whole appartment, and ultimately, to your confusion, he’s nowhere to be seen.

those are his shoes. you know it. you’ve seen them in front of your door for months as you walked in, welcoming you with a familiar feeling almost as warm as his embrace.

you can’t help but bring your hands to your face. worry. desperation. confusion. there’s no order in your mind as your feelings rain on you, forgetting about whether how good had they been locked up and bottled in the back of your head.

that’s how you break, tearing up once more. but before you give yourself time to sob, there’s a soft knock on your door.

you approach it softly, scared that maybe there’s a chance you’d wake up. you don’t want to, because the last time you’d seen him had also been a dream and maybe having a nightmare is also worth it if it could mean you’d see him again.

so you open the door. unprepared, afraid, a shivering mess.

your eyes widen when he hugs you as soon as the door is away.

“hannie.” you whisper, your arms not able to follow orders just yet, your body freezing against his warm embrace.

He just hugs you tightly, like a sailor tying his boat to a piece of land, so it can’t float away and leave him astray, to keep him safe and sound, a rocking home that he can return to. a lighthouse. a safe space.

“instead of apologizing, i’ll say i love you.”

his voice is low. broken. a murmur that travels through the air, sounding terrified at the thought that its waves could be interpreted, heard and understood. a whisper to let out what seems to be the same feeling, haunting him just as much as it had been to you.

because no one could have prepared you for what missing something you’ve never had felt like. no matter the fights, the ups, the downs and the inifinite amount of in-betweens. no matter what anyone else said except the both of you, because, because, and because, because you love him, because he loves you, and there could be nothing wrong with that, because how could it, when it’s love?

and maybe you’ve been mad, terribly worried, kept in the dark for so long, away from his thoughts, his dreaded dark piece of mind hidden and rotting inside him inside a chest with no lock for you to find the key.

“thank you for worrying about me. i love you.”

the tears that had been holding on to a red thread could only last for so long, the tears falling down your cheeks and the red thread finding its place on your fingers. it is only then when you hug him back, an embrace tighter than the ones in airports and hospitals, in funerals and memorials, and even birthdays and weddings. a hug full of words you couldn’t say because they hadn’t been created yet, despite how you knew it in your heart. even if love creats poets there may not be words enough to develop sonets about or beloveds.

so you cry and hug him tighter, because there’s nothing else you can do.

“thank you. i love you.”

you don’t have it in you to say anything. you wouldn’t know what to say. and his voice is weak. powerless. you don’t know what happened and maybe you never will, but the source would never mind if its outcome was this, because those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind, and there’s no clue to what you’ve done or could do.

so you shake your head no and hug him tighter.

“i love you so much.”

his arms threaten to fall to your sides due to how he disarms himself, falling unexposed, falling, falling and falling and letting himself fall because in the end it doesn’t even matter if it’s your arms he can land on.

so he hugs you tighter, the sheer force almost making the both of you end up on the floor. his voice isn’t shattering, nor is it quivering. it’s low, as if it’s set on night mode, a gentle, monotone, deep hum filled with air.

“i love you inmensely.”

and he does. his tone doesn’t matter, nor does the setting, the time or the circumstances because the only truth is that same conclusion.

“i love you endlessly.”

he needs to continue. he’s started, and he can’t stop now.

“i love you completely. I love you so much. I really love you. I love you the most. I love you the most in the whole world. I’m completely and madly in love with you.”

there are no dramatic pauses in between his statements because he doesn’t need them. your love fills him, the tightness of your embrace not crumbling, your eyes failing to look at him through your tears, so your sobbing dims to at least be able to hear him.

in one way or another, love turns us poets. maybe it’s the goodbye that scares us, so that’s why we leave it to airports, hospitals, memorials and funerals. maybe it’s because we’re scared that love is leaving us. maybe it’s because it could never return, leaving us away from what once tasted so sweet, and punishes us for letting it go once them presumptuosly attempt it one more time.

so you hug him tighter, because you love him too, even if in that moment you find no ways to put it into words.

because just for a moment icarus touched the sun, and here you are, basking on his warmth, your sun, your moon and your stars. hugging him tighter and tighter just in case you do end up waking up.

it takes love to be a poet, and so you love, love and love, like a ship with its anchor, carrying your love for him everywhere you go, giving the ship the world to love. you love him the same way a hearth loves fire, with enough passion to make it a home. like a candle in the light who falls in love with darkness, its monsters that creep surrounding it, drowning him. your little star. and you recognize those monsters, and you hug them too.

because you found a home in him, and you want him to find a home in you too.

[☆★ 🌌 ★☆]

~kats, who saw this reel in instagram and started absolutely dissolving her pillow in tears

[velarisbynight]

A Night Of Convenience

Azriel x Eris

For Day 3 of @acotar-omegaverse-week — All Tied Up: Oh, you're tied up so you don't do anything you'll regret during your heat? Would be a shame if someone... came along and messed up that plan for you :)

a/n: please keep on scrolling if Azris or omegaverse isn’t your thing!

warnings: dry humping/grinding; dubcon since Azriel’s in heat; enemies to lovers vibes?; personally I’d argue bdsm vibes since Azriel’s actually chained up but whatever floats your boat

word count: 3.4k~

~~~~~~~~

Azriel leans his head back against the cold, crooked rock of the cave, his breath misting in the frigid air. The wind howls around the mountain, whipping at the brutal stone, rain likely lashing down from the thunderous storm clouds he’d seen on the treacherous flight up here with his brothers. 

It had taken a lot of persuading to get them to comply, but he’d managed. After all, they’re both alphas—he can’t expect them to understand the humiliation of his heat, inherently submissive when compared to a rut. He can’t stand it, the degradation of his body being so out of his control. He doesn’t want to make a scene…do something he’d regret once it’s passed.

The gorsian shackles bite at his wrists and ankles, a wider, much thicker band of iron clamped around his waist. It’s uncomfortable, to say the least—there’s no way to sit without his wings snagging on a jagged edge of rock, or brushing against the icy bite of the chains—but it’s never going to be a comfortable experience. He just wishes it was a little warmer in here, that his toes and fingers weren’t already tingling with numbness—maybe he should have waited a little longer before bringing himself up here, waited for the symptoms to begin manifesting so he doesn’t have to suffer additional hours of intense discomfort. If only there was something warm…a fire, or even a blanket…something that would smell of woodsmoke, and ease the tension in his body…

Rich, spicy blood trickles down his chin, lip turned white around the edges from where his canine has pierced the skin. At least it’s hot, scalding his tongue when he swipes it away. 

Why did he have to be born this way? A bastard and an omega. 

Forget picking the short stick, he didn’t even get to draw. 

Water vapour gathers on the rock ceiling, coalescing into condensation, running down the tip of a stalactite before dripping down the nap of his neck. He shivers. 

Something clicks in the far off distance, the noise muffled and blurred from echoes as it hums to him through the deep tunnel system. The clicking continues, coming closer, until the tip-tap of those stiletto heeled shoes comes to a stop at the far end of the cave. Even through the slight haze that has crept into Azriel’s eyes he knows the figure. 

Amber eyes cut through the darkness like searing steel fresh from a forge. “You look comfortable.”

Azriel’s spine turns ramrod straight, muscle curling taut through his warrior’s body, resplendent golden thread stitching his lungs shut. Eris’ gaze flickers approvingly, and Azriel’s lip curls with fury. “What are you doing here?” He puts as much ice into his voice as he can manage. But it belies the emotion swirling within his chest, raging inside his mind—relief at finding company, and revulsion Eris would seek him out in a moment like this.

But Eris shakes his head, strong arms folding across his narrow chest, sleek and powerful. “You know, it’s not just your problem, Azriel. It’s mine, too.” His name sends a shiver up his spine, forcing his wings to tuck in tight so as not to reveal the biological reactions. He’s vulnerable enough as it is. 

“Get out.” 

Eris looks him over, a bored look on his sharp features. Then the clicking starts again, leisurely striding toward him. 

Azriel snarls, getting to his feet, his body made heavier by the weakening hormones beginning to seep into his bloodstream. “I won’t tell you again,” Azriel mutters, wings flaring in warning as the alpha steps closer, entering his circle. 

“And what will you do, omega?” Eris asks, coming to a smooth halt less than a step away. “You’re chained up. In gorsian shackles, no less. Where are those shadows of yours?” 

“You have no right to be here.” 

“No? You’re going to reject it? We both know that would be a worse choice for you. An omega can’t survive without its—”

“Shut up.” Azriel hisses. The centres of his palms surely have indents in them by now. “I don’t need you.” 

“Yes, you do.” Eris steps closer, close enough Azriel tries to shift his head to the side so he won’t have to take the male’s scent into his lungs, so it won’t catalyse the inevitable heat that’s beginning to stir to life in his body, his pulse beginning to spike. 

“You have me now.” Eris says, and Azriel’s body turns rigid when the heirling places an owning palm atop his heart, exuding proprietary entitlement. “It’ll be worse without me.” 

“I’d rather die.” 

“And then I’ll be left without a mate. That can’t happen.” 

Gods, Azriel can feel his skin warming. There’s a tightness in his throat that shouldn’t be there, a shallowness to his breath that signals the commencement of his heat. Azriel’s pulse spikes when Eris’ hand lifts higher, stepping closer still. Close enough that he’s trapped, wings already scratching against jagged rock. Eris’ palm stops at his jaw, the nail of his thumb grazing across Azriel’s cheek. 

“I won’t tell anybody,” Eris murmurs, amber eyes like molten magma, searing into his flesh, stoking the embers of what will quickly become wildfire. “I can feel it. It’s beginning to compound.”

“You have no right.” Azriel hisses through gritted teeth, blood rushing around his ears, a familiar tingle beginning to spread through his legs. “Unhand me.” 

Amber eyes burn. 

Azriel’s blood scalds his veins, heat accumulating swiftly, catalysed by this male’s invasion. 

A muscle flickers in Eris’ jaw. And he steps away. 

Azriel’s chains rattle as he instinctively takes a step forward, chasing the touch, but forces his body to freeze. Teeth grinding, wings pulled taut at his back. 

“You want me.” Eris mutters, a lick of flame in his amber eyes. 

“I hate you.” Azriel snarls. 

“They can coexist.” 

Azriel needles the male with an icy glare, cold enough to burn. Eris watches quietly, his sharp eyes narrowed. 

“Do your brothers know about me?” Eris asks, the honed edge of his drawl making sweat bead down Azriel’s spine. Skin prickling beneath the serrated tone. “There’s nothing to tell them.” Azriel spits lowly, wings beginning to shiver. “You could die this time. You’re happy with none of them knowing why?” 

“I think it would be a mercy to pass without any of them knowing who I’d been mated to.” 

Eris’ lip curls in a barely suppressed snarl, and Azriel has to steel himself against the urge for his legs to buckle, weakness flooding through his body. Amber eyes lick over his figure once, before hot, rough palms are pushing against his chest, a compact, distinctly male body pressing to Azriel’s, a thigh between his legs. A shocked breath of air is snatched to the shadowsinger’s lungs, eyes marginally widened at the close proximity, the rampant heat bursting in his lower body in response to such a relatively minor touch. 

“Fine.” Eris bites out against his mouth, almost close enough to taste the fiery male. “Have it your way. But I’m staying right here. You aren’t the only one this will affect now you’re tied to me.” 

“Like anything you’ll experience will even compare,” Azriel hisses before he can stop himself. Long, deft fingers curl themselves in the collar of Azriel’s shirt, scrunching the fabric in the male’s large fist as Eris forcefully drags him closer, mouths less than an inch apart, able to feel hot, harsh breath ghosting across his skin. “It wouldn’t have to be a trial for you if you’d let me help. Like it or not, we’re in this together. So either you can make it hard on yourself, or we can cooperate.” Eris’ eye burn like ruby flames. “Let me help you.” 

In the time between Eris first appearing and now, Azriel’s discipline has rapidly deteriorated. His discipline quickly slipping the leash with alarming skill as Eris shifts his hip, the toned muscle of his thigh rubbing against the seam of Azriel’s leathers. The Shadowsinger grits his teeth, jaw working almost painfully. He forces his gaze elsewhere, being drawn in by the hypnotising burn of colour in his-…in Eris’ eyes. Azriel drags breath into his lungs, inhaling through his nose, humiliation rushing his abdomen at the prominence of his own arousal—how it’s already thickly permeating the air, turning it denser; smokier. 

Azriel’s scent shouldn’t be smoky. 

Hazel eyes slide open, half-glazed. “You’re enjoying this,” Azriel bites out, every syllable an effort to drag from his throat. A beat passes, and Eris holds his gaze. Now Azriel has identified that scent, what it means, the hunger seems obvious. Fury barrels through the haze of his mind, adrenaline returning enough sense to his muscles to grab at Eris’ shoulders, shoving him firmly, keeping the flat-tips of his fingers biting into the heirling’s flesh. Azriel hopes it hurts. Hopes he can squeeze and pop bones out of place. 

“You came here knowing you were going into rut?” Azriel snarls, noting how the flame blazes in Eris’ gaze at the mention of his state. “You’re a fucking piece of work, Vanserra.” But Eris retaliates, strengthening his already brutal grip on Azriel’s shirt, overpowering the weakened Spymaster as hormones begin to spike. “I came here because your heat triggered it,” Eris growls, tugging so hard at the fabric Azriel hears it begin to rip. “Have you clocked that yet, omega? We’re tied to one another. If you don’t survive this heat without me, I’ll be having to deal with something far worse.” 

“So you want me to let you fuck me just so you don’t have to deal with that?” Azriel gives a harsh, derisive laugh. “Like I’d ever make it that easy for you. If this kills me I’ll go happily knowing you never got your hands on me.” 

“And you said I was the piece of fucking work.” Eris hisses over Azriel’s mouth, lips brushing, pupils dilating with hunger. “You’re really so proud you’ll let yourself die over something like this?” 

Azriel smirks. “I might make it.” 

Eris shoves the Shadowsinger back, a hiss of fury mixed with pain releasing from his mouth as rock abrades the sensitive membrane of his wings. Shared breath mixes between them, both brandishing hot tempers while fighting against raging instincts. Fighting on two fronts. Eris swallows once, attempting to sooth the white-hot flame burning in his blood. “By Autumn Court law I have every right to you,” he breathes, fingers lessening on Azriel’s shirt but not releasing. “And by Night Court law I am free to claim you, now that a bond has made itself clear.” 

“And I’ve told you I’d rather die.” 

Eris’ nostrils flare, his jaw wound impossibly tight. 

He releases Azriel. Steps back. Puts some distance between them. No more than a few steps. Eris can’t make himself move any further. 

“I wouldn’t have spent so much effort on trying to convince you if I wasn’t going to listen to your opposition.” Eris says at last, amber eyes hot and molten. “I said I would at least stay here. I won’t do anything you don’t want.” 

“Like I’ll believe a single word from your—”

“Shut up.” Eris snarls, voice ablaze with white-hot dominance. 

Azriel’s mouth seals shut, wings tucking meekly at his back, knees nearly buckling at the command. 

Eris runs a hand through his hair. “I came here to offer help—help that would be mutually beneficial. Even you can see that.” Azriel’s lip curls but he says nothing. “Like I said before: hate and want can coexist.” 

“Well I don’t want you.” 

Eris turns on his heel, clicking sternly across the uneven rock floor and Azriel braces himself for the rough shove to his shoulders, the winding punch to the gut, a kick to the stomach. Instead a hot, rough palm slides around the nape of his neck, fingers threading pleasurably through his silky hair, his hazel eyes fluttering with a surge of dizziness. Another palm settles at his jaw, tilting his chin, angling him right. “You don’t want me?” Eris whispers. “Then one kiss should be fine. Right?” 

Azriel’s pulse spikes in his chest. Staggering heat accumulating between his legs. Just Eris’ mouth on top of his, Eris’ tongue flicking against his own, Eris’ body pressed tight against another. Just his alpha touching him exactly as he’s supposed to. Amber eyes are staring into him but Azriel’s gaze has been caught by the heirling’s lips. Rosey, elegantly narrow, parted. Inviting and taunting. Azriel manages a half nod. 

“Ask me.” 

Azriel drags resentful eyes up to the heirling’s, but the reproach dissipates when he’s met with sincerity. Eris wants Azriel to clearly say it himself. 

Azriel swallows. He won’t be able to lie to himself and pretend it was out of his control. He’s still more than aware enough to know what’s going on. He won’t be able to spin this against the male pressed so close to his body. Whose thigh had briefly been between his legs. How good that had felt. 

“Kiss me,” Azriel breathes. 

Eris’ eyes flicker, then a warm, narrow mouth is pushing to his own. Lips that taste of warm spices with a hint of brown sugar caramelising on his tongue. Chains clink at Azriel’s sides, then silky hair is threaded between his fingers, his pulse beginning to sooth its sharp, snare-drum-staccato beat. A pleasant pressure presses between his legs, Eris’ hip ghosting across the front of Azriel’s leathers, delicately inclining his weight into the Illyrian so he can feel the firm, powerful pressure against him. Azriel’s hips shift along the muscle of Eris’ thigh. A hot tongue strokes across his own, and saliva mixes swiftly after. 

Azriel doesn’t know how long they’ve been kissing when Eris pulls away, returning once to run his tongue over the curve of Azriel’s lower lip, a wet, silvery thread stretching between them. 

Is Azriel delirious or is the creamy pale skin on his alpha’s cheeks slightly coloured? 

Eris’ thumb swipes smoothly across the saliva-wet top of Azriel’s lower lip, applying a light pressure at the centre to reveal pale teeth. A tongue, guarded, behind them. 

Azriel licks his lips, hazel eyes glazed as he leans forward, fingers that had somehow found their way into Eris’ hair clutching tighter. But Eris pulls away, “I thought you didn’t want me.”

“I hate you.” Azriel murmurs, softer than a breath. Eris arches a narrow brow, “you aren’t denying it this time.” 

Heat warms Azriel’s cheeks but it’s hard to distinguish from the thrumming pulse of his heart, how hot his blood is as it courses through his body, rushing from his head. 

“Once.” The word is less than a whisper, but Eris hears it clear as day. “Just this once.” 

“Unique circumstances require unique solutions.” 

“This doesn’t mean anything, Vanserra.” 

“Of course not, omega.” 

Azriel’s lip curls in a half snarl, but Eris is much faster, broad palms spanning over the jutting bone of the Shadowsinger’s hip, tugging him tight to the heirling’s front, mouth descending gluttonously to his mate’s exposed throat. A gasp that sounds far too close to pleasure escapes Azriel’s mouth, head tipping back as teeth nip along his shoulder, a hot tongue licking across his neck, incisors grazing a spot that has a shiver running up Azriel’s spine. He’s slipping. Can feel his discipline fraying at the edges. 

Scarred palms press themselves flat to the jagged rock at his back, fingers curling as the hard ridge of nails drags across the stone in attempts to keep himself from unraveling entirely. 

Eris shifts his body, and everything clicks into place. 

Biological satisfaction satiates Azriel’s hunger, but drives him to consume more. 

Roughened palms grip a pale-skinned jaw, dragging those lips back to his with an open mouth. Azriel’s skin burns, and he twines one of his legs around Eris’, tilting his hips so the seam of his leathers is rubbing against him, and— 

A humiliating sound leaves his throat when Eris’ hips buck into his own. Broad, pale hands rise to squeeze firmly at Azriel’s waist, thumbs digging into muscle to hold him still. Amber eyes pierce into him, watching intently as Eris presses the edge of his hip carefully between Azriel’s legs. The Spymaster can feel the hot flush colouring his cheeks, the pleasure tingling in his lower abdomen…he knows this kind of sensation, what will follow too quickly after it… 

Azriel’s head tips back, rock clanging pain through his skull but he doesn’t care as Eris’ hand slips between them, palming the Shadowsinger through his leathers. And it feels good. Azriel’s arms leave the safety of the rock wall, twining themselves immovably around Eris’ shoulders, the Spymaster’s spine arcing from the stone to feel the sturdy presence of his mate as the orgasm rushes through his blood, practically turning it to steam in his veins as pure pleasure takes his life-force’s place. 

Hazel eyes manage to flicker open, met with creamy, pale skin, threads of fiery, silky hair settled at the nape of Eris’ neck, soft new hair curling from his skin. Azriel inhales, that rich, sweet and smoky scent cutting off circulation of thought—it’s too good to not taste. 

Amber eyes slide shut, a heady groan rumbling in the heirling’s chest as Azriel opens his mouth over Eris’ throat, licking up the side and nipping with his teeth. Long, deft fingers outmanoeuvre the ties keeping leathers together, pushing them away. Eris can feel how hard his omega is, the dampness of the fabric concealing him still. The heirling drags the heel of his palm down the thick length of Azriel’s cock, already leaking again and desperate for stimulation. 

“Hurry up.” Azriel pants, scarred fingers curling tight in fiery locks of hair, his hips tilting to rub against Eris’ palm, already needing a second relief. “What are you waiting—” Azriel cuts himself off with a gasp when Eris’ hand wraps itself around his cock, able to feel every finger, every knuckle… Nails dig into the heirling’s back as Eris lazily swipes his thumb over the tip, smearing precum that had nestled there. 

The Shadowsinger snarls in frustration when Eris pulls his hand away, then bites down on the aggression as pale fingers rise to a rosey mouth, elegantly narrow. “Eris, what are you…” 

Wild heat spreads through Azriel’s abdomen, pleasure and satisfaction twining together as the alpha’s tongue licks at the gleaming, creamy liquid. His cock twitches, hips pressing themselves flush to his mate’s, feeling slick beginning to drip down his thighs. In the past he’s found the sensation uncomfortable, invasive and suddenly sensitive, but now he’s in heat with his…with Eris, it doesn’t feel as awful as he remembers. Maybe even promising something good, this time around. 

Azriel’s cheeks are stained with colour as Eris pushes an open-mouthed kiss to his lips, tongue flicking and stroking, sharing the flavour as movements lose their gentle curve, steadily roughening, sharpening at their edges to demands. “Don’t you taste good?” Eris murmurs between the hot, feverish kisses, cum mixing with saliva. Azriel struggles to register the thought, and instead his scarred hands are roughly tugging clothing free from his mate’s body, buttons flying as Azriel uses a bit too much strength, tearing the fabric in his haste. 

“Impatient.” Eris murmurs, but it’s distinctly fond, lacking its authoritarian drawl. Azriel doesn’t care if he’s impatient—he’s in heat. 

“Stop dragging it out,” Azriel pants, fingers trailing down the bare expanse of the alpha’s chest, marvelling at the sight. “You said you were here to help.” 

“Shall I help you?” 

Hazel eyes flick up to meet amber. If these chains weren’t here, they threaten. 

Eris’ lips curve, as if he understands the unspoken demand to hurry up. “I think you look quite nice in them.” 

Azriel’s cock twitches at the low drawl, heat fluttering through his lower abdomen, arousal shivering with pleasure. “Stop teasing. Do something.” 

“Do something,” Eris muses, reaching to his trousers. Azriel’s tongue wets his lips. “Do something like…unchain you?” 

Sure enough, that’s a set of keys twinkling before him. 

Azriel lurches blindly at the promise of pleasure, but Eris steps back, heels clicking just out of reach. A thunderous snarl rips through the inner chamber, water droplets dislodged from stalactites far above. 

Amber eyes glance over the keys idly, twirling the coil of metal holding them together around one long index finger. Rosey lips curve in a smirk that makes the Shadowsinger’s knees nearly buckle. 

“Shall I free you, Azriel?”