#got recaptured once there

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Gerudo Town (Dad Squad)

All leads had indicated that the Yiga hideout was in the desert, as it had been in the past. Abel shouldn't have been surprised, honestly.

The issue was that he didn't know exactly where the base was. But a group of warriors did.

Trust was nonexistent these days, in the years after the Calamity. Gerudo Town had managed to escape much of the damage, but it also was cut off from the rest of Hyrule as a result. The oasis was abandoned, only utilized by weary and lost travelers, but no Gerudo roamed the sands around it.

"So let's visit this town, then," Rusl commented after taking another swig out of his newly refilled water flask.

"We can't," Abel sighed, leaning against a rock and basking in the coolness of the shade. "The Gerudo is a matriarchal society. They don't let men inside their walls."

Rusl blinked. Blinked again. Bemused, he remarked, "Matriarchal doesn't mean sexist. Surely they'll let us in."

Abel bit the inside of his cheek. He'd made this explanation plenty of times to his men in the years past. "I don't think the Gerudo are necessarily sexist. They don't distrust or hate men. It's just their tradition - whatever the reason, only girls are born to Gerudo mothers. So they just... don't interact with men in their hometown. It's tradition at this point."

"Strange," Rusl muttered. "The Gerudo are... rare where I'm from, but their distrust was shared equally to all, no matter their sex. They just didn't like anyone who wasn't Gerudo."

Rusl's words reminded Abel that they had yet to address a rather glaring matter. Ever since they had raided the abandoned Yiga camp, Abel had been pondering the fact that the Hero of Hyrule who the Fierce Deity had been protecting was a different Hero from his son. The Hero of Time was a children's story, a tale of folklore so old that barely anything was known of it except that the Soul of the Hero had traveled across time to save multiple lands.

So little was known of the goddess' destined Hero that Abel had often questioned the validity of any of the stories. He'd had no reason to disbelieve them, but... there was little reason to believe them either.

At least until his boy had come to him holding that sword.

So if the Hero of Time was one of Links being pursued by the Yiga... that just led to so many questions. Firstly, how the hell had they managed to do this??

Secondly... what was Rusl's boy? A potential Hero who could turn into a wolf? Abel had never heard of Ordon, so perhaps this Link was different - not of the Soul of the Hero but a savior to his own land nonetheless?

And now, this talk of different Gerudo cultures. Not only were these Heroes real, they and their guardians were plucked from Hyrule's history and thrown here.

I wonder their opinions on the state of things, Abel thought bitterly. How utterly we failed to maintain what they'd fought for.

It was a good thing his son was in a coma. He knew Link wouldn't be able to stand the judgment from the other heroes, whether it was good or bad.

"Either way," Rusl said, rising and interrupting Abel's musings. "I'll scout ahead to see if we can figure anything out without talking to them."

"The desert is treacherous," Abel warned. "It's foolish to go alone."

"I've gone to plenty a dangerous place alone," Rusl reassured him with a smile. "I won't engage in anything foolish, don't worry. I'll be back before sunset. This is just reconnaissance."

Abel supposed another issue to ponder was how little Rusl spoke of his past when he was clearly more than a blacksmith who knew some sword skills, but now didn't seem the time to argue it. He'd seen the man hold his own in battle well enough. Sighing, he waved a dismissive hand, watching the Ordonian walk away.

Glancing back at the oasis, he saw Rusl converse with the Fierce Deity briefly before continuing. The deity stared at the water curiously.

Abel wandered over to him. "Is something wrong?"

"This heat is mildly draining," Fierce remarked, dipping a finger into the water.

"You're more than welcome to swim in it if that's what you're wondering," Abel said. "But people do use it as a water source as well, so I advise cleaning yourself first."

"It does seem ill advised to drink from water that people can swim in," Fierce noted, raising an eyebrow. "My greater concern is hydration."

Abel blinked. If he was worried about hydrating, then why didn't he just drink?

"How much water does one need?" Fierce asked. "I have noticed you're both drinking much more since our arrival. Is it a matter of body heat regulation?"

"Have you never been to the desert...?" Abel questioned in disbelief.

"I don't recall," Fierce answered mildly, voice growing quiet. "I believe once, in battle, I was utilized, but not long enough for it to be a great concern."

Ah. Right. The things this deity did and didn't seem to know... it made Abel have so many questions. First and foremost, how the hell he was still alive.

But secondly... utilized?

"Drink more," Abel advised. "The body loses more water through sweating, and we all sweat more in the heat. Even you are."

"I noticed that much," Fierce replied with a chuckle, as if he were entertained at being taught something so simple. He dipped the flask given to him by Rusl into the oasis and began to drink.

Abel sighed, squinting against the sunlight. Link would certainly need more water if he was being held here. Or, well, had been held here. It seemed silly to go to the desert when their lead had been near Akkala, but... all Abel knew was that the Yiga stronghold was here, and they had all woken at the other side of Hyrule. They'd not had any luck finding any hints of their boys the entire journey here, so they had nothing else to go off.

After several hours of silence (Abel wasn't a particularly talkative man, and despite the deity's curiosity, he usually wouldn't speak unless prompted), Abel recognized Rusl's wavy silhouette in the distance.

The brightly colored handkerchief he was using to wipe his face was new.

"Did you have any success?" Fierce asked.

"Not really," Rusl answered. "However, I did figure out a way that we could get in to learn more."

"Is there a secret passage into the town?" Abel asked, curious. He had always wondered. He had always respected things that were forbidden, but that hadn't meant he wouldn't imagine ways of getting around it.

"Not from what I can tell," Rusl said. "But, with my plan, you could walk through the front door."

Abel found himself both curious and skeptical. He crossed his arms. "Really?"

Rusl held out the colorful handkerchief to him. Slowly taking it, Abel recognized that it was not, in fact, a handkerchief.

"The way the Gerudo dress lends itself to disguise," Rusl explained with a mischievous smile.

Abel held the veil at arm's length as if it would attack him. "You want. To do. What."

"Well if they only let women in, we have to obtain information somehow." Rusl shrugged. "You're smaller in build than me, and your hair's all grown out."

If looks could kill, Abel would have cut Rusl into pieces. "Absolutely not."

"What is it?" Fierce asked.

"He's suggesting I dress like a Gerudo woman to get into the town," Abel hissed. "The answer is no."

Rusl furrowed his brow, clearly frustrated. "Put your pride aside, Abel. This is important."

"Do you really think something like that would actually work?!" Abel motioned angrily towards the deity. "We might as well let him stroll into town in such attire for all the good it would do us!"

The Fierce Deity plucked the veil out of Abel's grip. "Will this allow one to look like a Gerudo woman?"

"Not necessarily," Rusl answered. "The point is that it will hide that he's a man."

"The veil will, but the rest is fairly apparent," Abel snapped. "I'm missing a few key components, Rusl."

"Nothing we can't tweak a little," Rusl replied easily.

This was insane.

"What other attire did you bring?"

Abel turned to argue with the deity about the stupidity of this entire half-witted plan when he saw the mythical man trying to figure out how to put the veil on.

He can't be serious.

"Well," Rusl said slowly as he pulled out more clothes. "I did grab varying sizes. The Gerudo are far taller and broader than I expected, so their clothes might actually fit you better."

"Very well," Fierce said casually, finally settling the veil in the right place. He started stripping his armor without a care, and Abel thought he was going insane. Was this actually happening right now?! A war god was going to cross dress in whatever insane attire the Gerudo chose to wear and--

And--

You know what, to hell with it. Better him than me.

When the Fierce Deity had finished switching clothes, the other two stared at him. Rusl crossed his arms, examining the disguise carefully while Abel just felt his sanity continue to slip away. He wasn't sure he cared at this point. Perhaps he could at least find some entertainment from this?

No, no he couldn't. It was too stupid.

Count your blessings, he reminded himself. At least they actually believe you about the threat the Yiga present now. They believe you enough to even try this fool's errand.

The Fierce Deity, usually a foreboding sight in his pale blue tunic and silver armor, striking attention with the royal blue scarf tied around his waist, was instead adorned in fiery red, which emphasized the paleness of his exposed, muscular abdomen and shoulders. He wore loose, baggy pants and flat footed shoes, silver hair and eyes glittering against a red and gold veil.

"This is not going to work," Abel immediately commented. "He's too big."

Too big, too broad, too muscular. The women of Gerudo were strong enough to probably lift an entire guardian off its feet, but their muscles were still distinctly patterned differently. Women's shoulders were not so broad, nor chest and waist so box-like. Whether the Gerudo assumed he was one of theirs or Hylian, he would still look too masculine to play this part.

"They'll find out immediately," he continued, feeling his stomach churn at the thought that came next. Maybe I should do it... it would be more reasonable, but... no. This entire thing is idiotic. It'll never work.

Rusl, who had been foraging for something else in his bag, suddenly pulled out two hydromelons. "Here, put these in your top."

Fierce took the fruit without argument, and Abel stared, eyes widening. Well, Rusl was certainly committed.

"Giving him breasts isn't going to fix the obvious issue that he is a man," he argued.

"Of course it'll help," Rusl replied. "He just has to... well..."

Rusl paused, staring at the deity as he fumbled to stuff the fruit in his top without them falling out and splattering on the ground.

"Play the part," Abel finished for him flatly.

XXX

Well... it wasn't an immediate disaster.

Abel and Rusl hid behind a dune as they watched Fierce approach the guards, who exchanged... baffled looks from what Abel could tell.

"Hello, fellow women," the deity greeted.

Rusl choked back a cough.

"This is not going to work," Abel hissed, his own voice strained in a competition between secondhand embarrassment, horror, and losing it.

"Hey, it would've been better if you did it!" Rusl whisper back.

Over my dead body.

Surprisingly, the guards shuffled aside to allow him passage after a few confused glances.

Abel stared.

"Ha!" Rusl huffed in triumph. "I told you it would work."

"You didn't know it was going to work!" Abel accused, turning to glare at him.

Rusl ignored him. "Let's see if we can get closer. We can peek over the far wall a little bit."

Abel sighed heavily, dragging his feet through the sand as the pair practically crawled around the edge of the town before climbing the wall opposite of the entrance. Abel half wondered why they couldn't just enter that way, but he supposed in such a small area they were bound to be noticed.

The pair peered over.

It was immediately apparent which one was Fierce. He was simultaneously blending in and sticking out like a sore thumb. His silver hair caught the sunlight, and his towering, imposing figure managed to outshine the Gerudo. Every woman who passed paused and gave him a strange side eye, but no one outright said anything. For his part, Fierce was standing still, surveying the area.

Abel groaned, pounding his forehead against the wall. "He doesn't even know what to do."

Rusl bit his lip, slowly climbing the wall and kneeling in the water that bordered the edge of the town. Abel hesitantly followed. Fierce immediately noticed of them with his superior eyesight. Rusl made little gestures, wiggling his fingers and mouthing words even Abel couldn't understand.

"What are you doing?" he hissed. "He'll never know what you're trying to tell him!"

Fierce nodded, walking slowly around the town.

"He's doing quite well for his first espionage mission," Rusl commented with a chuckle.

Abel groaned. "You're insane."

"Oh, Abel, you should lighten up. There are many ways to achieve a goal, it's not all about the sword."

"I'm aware of that."

The deity finally started to talk to women, disappearing in and out of the men's sight. Abel sighed, rubbing his face as he felt it steadily burning. Between the bright rays and the reflection from the water, he'd rival a Hylian tomato by the end of the day.

"Hopefully he can get some legitimate leads," Rusl muttered. "The sooner we can find the boys, the better."

Abel wanted to face plant into the water with the heat as bad as it was. Instead, he splashed a little on his face. "Yes, well, you're forgetting something very important."

"What?"

"Our esteemed deity is a war god with no idea how mortals function. He's probably going to ask them how they braid their hair."

"Come now, don't disrespect him like that. He's not an idiot."

"I didn't say he was an idiot. On the contrary, he's very curious. That's the problem."

"He'll focus."

Abel hummed, immediately thinking of his wife, Tilieth. Rusl clearly wasn't used to the mischief an inquisitive mind could stir up. Not to mention the deity wasn't exactly subtle. He was certain the deity's concern for his own Link would drive him forward, but he was likely to get distracted as well.

Assuming he could even keep the act up.

"A voe has been spotted! Up there!!"

Abel and Rusl both jolted, eyes wide as they looked down to see guards running their way with spears in hand.

"Time to go!" Rusl said quickly as the pair leapt over the wall back into the sand and scurried away.

Hours later as the sun cast long shadows and brought a chill to the air around the oasis, Abel paced anxiously until he and Rusl both caught sight of their companion's return.

"What did you learn?" Rusl immediately asked.

Fierce pulled the veil and shirt off, clearly having grown uncomfortable in it, and headed for his armor. "Mating customs are strange."

Abel immediately burst into laughter, vindicated. He honestly hadn't expected anything else. The day was wasted, but he supposed he could get what entertainment was available from it. Even he hadn't expected that to be the first thing out of the deity's mouth.

Rusl frowned. "What...?"

"Did Uli, your wife, assert her dominance to you, or is that a Gerudo custom?"

Abel's amusement multiplied tenfold, and he wheezed as he doubled over. Rusl stared at the deity in horror.

"I seem to recall you both spoke of varying mating customs in that village, after all."

Rusl immediately face palmed. "This... those are not the details you were supposed to be investigating."

"Fear not," Fierce continued, slipping on his trousers and under tunic. "I also learned the location of the Yiga hideout. One of the women reported having seen two boys and a wolf as well."

Abel and Rusl snapped to attention, earlier amusement forgotten.

"The Gerudo claim that the hideout was set on fire," Fierce explained. "They investigated it and discovered our heroes. My little hero apparently did not let them near him or his companions, but they were all alive as of one week ago."

One week. A million things could happen in that span of time. Link could have died in that time.

"Does anyone know where they went?" he asked breathlessly.

"The guards tracked them for a few days until they left the desert."

"They left the desert a week ago?" Rusl repeated. "That... so we must have--"

The Ordonian let out a strangled, frustrated groan, turning away as he shook his head. Abel felt similarly. They'd just missed them.

He wondered if the encampment near Akkala had been a more recent lead, after all. Then again, it had taken them a week to get here.

"We need to leave," he said. "The coolness of the night will be good to travel through in the desert."

The other two didn't argue. Rusl was growing frustrated and concerned at how long it had been. Abel was panicking at his son's condition. The three set out within minutes, determination set on stony faces.

Hylia... I... haven't prayed lately, I know, but... please...

Protect him. Protect... protect them all.

[seat-safety-switch]

I don't know if you've ever been to Paris before, but I recommend going. Normally, I would not have gone, but I made a really rich enemy on IRC and he spent a lot of money to have me kidnapped and brought to his home country. While I was there, I got to try a bunch of restaurants (they're hostage-takers, not barbarians) and came away impressed. Something was missing, though, and herein is my genius idea.

In Paris you can get any kind of food. Chinese, Vietnamese, Japanese, Thai: and it's all good. All of it. You literally can't find a bad restaurant. At one point, I walked into a convenience store and got a plate of one-Euro nachos that made me cry at the beauty of the arrangement.

Everyone around me was taking this for granted. Having lived there for years, their quality threshold had crept invisibly upwards until nothing could impress again. They needed something to re-calibrate their sense of truly bad food. That's where I came in. After I got kicked out of the country, I decided to come back with some investor support. I can burn cereal, usually by roasting it gently with a blowtorch on the top of an old gas can. Investors were easy to find.

Our first week of opening was tremendous. Hardened Parisians were discovering their first taste of truly incompetent food. The novelty of it all had captured them. There's just one problem, though: after making an entire lunch rush's feast of poorly-cut toast in reheated canned soup, my cooking skills began to improve from sheer experience. The complaints began to change tone. You got too good, they cried, you're not the same bad chef we once loved. Again, I was deported.

I looked out the window of the plane as it left De Gaulle, staring down onto the beautiful streets of Paris. Down there, I imagined, real gourmets were now eating food out of trash cans out of desperation to recapture what they had experienced with me. If there is one nice thing to be said, I now have two Michelin Stars here in my homeland of Canada, where my consommé-and-grilled-cheese recipe is now so much better than most of our restaurants that it made the Prime Minister Herself come and spit in my face for ruining the economy, before awarding me an Order of Canada. It's not the same.

[gay-dorito-dust]

hey, i really enjoyed reading your angst drabbles and i was thinking if you could write something like Viktor neglecting reader and all her attempts to be close to him again, and when she decides to give up on him, she almost die in the council room explosion, after he stood her up again, leaving her in some state of coma. then he regret everything, after all she should’ve been with him…

sorry if i made some mistakes, english is not my first language but im trying my best! 🫶🏻

Ah yes, more angst *laughs maniacally in several cups of coffee and severe need to make ppl cry* also your English is perfect, no need to apologise sweetie. Also! This is extremely long cuz I got carried away. Hope you enjoy tho! 🫶🫶

You adored Viktor greatly, for to you there was not a man who could match his brilliance and his resilience, his determination to see everything that he’s put his whole heart and soul into this hextech project through. Everything about him was enticing to you from his dream to better the lives of others, the twinkle in his amber eyes when he had made a scientific breakthrough, not to mention the way he became more animated and eager to talk as he spoke about it; he sounded more alive then ever before which you loved for him.

However what once brought you happiness would eventually become your downfall for as of recent memories as tensions between Piltover and Zaun heightened to a dangerous degree, Viktor had more or less had secluded himself to the lab from the early hours of the morning, rarely to come out for anything or anyone. Gone were the days where you’d see him in the hallways of the academy, blessing you with his beautiful smile as his amber eyes only seemed to glow within your presence in familiarity, offering a short greeting in passing but the recognition of your existence by him was more then a full length conversation with him would have given you.

He left your peripheral vision with nothing to remind you of moment, nothing but a flutter within your chest that’s warm and suffocating as the same time. Now you were left disappointed to ever think that you could recapture that moment again, such like a love sick individual who was detached from all forms of reality that didn’t have him in it. Times were changing and not for the better, for everyone was on edge with what was to come and the tension was so thick you could cut into it with a knife and anticipation hung heavy over everyone, dreadfully awaiting an attack with baited breath and clenched fists in an attempt of bravery in the face of adversity.

Gone were the brief glimpses you’d get of him from the corner of your eyes, leaving you to believe whether or not you did in fact see him or just someone who wore similar clothing. You’d sometimes catch him in the act of waving at you when he was in a hurry or -when he had time to spare- even making himself welcome to the unoccupied seat besides you in the library, looking over your mountain of books with a raised brow and sarcasm upon his lips.

‘You planning to read them all in one go or?’ He’d say, making you scoff as a smile blossomed across your face as you looked into his eyes, finding that they were already on you.

‘Yeah because that’s a completely plausible thing for a person with a simple mind could accomplish.’ You replied with your own form of sarcasm as your smile widens at the sound of his laugh, gladly to have made such a heavenly sound emerge from his mouth. You two would remain in those same seats until it was time to part ways once again, bidding each other farewells as the days drew to a close and you’d leave for home when Viktor would stay overtime in his lab.

Now you don’t see him at all. Your head would perk up at the sound your mind has made you believe was the soft love tap of a cane against wooded floor, only to have your heart clench and mind belittling you when it wasn’t anywhere near Viktor coming into the library but someone else entirely. You were left with a table littered with books and an empty seat besides you, now cold and devoid of the man who’d always sit there and let his thoughts flow freely and bluntly out of his mouth, and yet you’d much prefer that over the deafening silence that greeted you for the past months as the realisation of how cold and miserable you were without Viktor to make your day complete.

You use to frequent the lab more so then your own office just to see Viktor in the past. So much so that Viktor had left a spare chair by his workbench for you to sit on, letting you linger as he worked and never uttering a single word as you were too entranced by the ways his fingers moved and how his facial expressions fluidly moved from one another, it almost like they were telling a silent story of his emotions of his successes and failures within the project. From the highs and lows, the triumphs of learning something new, to the challenges that left dark bags under his eyes from all the late nighters he’s been pulling to at least achieve something in the midst of all the chaos.

Now the warmth that once filled you as you entered the lab felt cold, like you were intruding on something you shouldn’t have. Your once place of refuge had become a place you didn’t recognise as you immediately noticed the lack of the chair you once sat on, it’s location wasn’t a concern of yours more so than the ache within your heart at the seemingly small act. However for such an act as small as removing a spare chair from a workbench you felt as though this was a sign that your presence was no longer a welcomed one; you had become a distraction and in the worse kind to Viktor, and thus your chair had been taken away, signifying that those warm days of human connection had long since overstayed it’s welcome.

‘Viktor?’ You called out but not once did he show signs of recognition towards your voice nor bothered to look up from his work that meant so much to him nowadays. You didn’t know which hurt more, the lack of response or the idea that you were nowhere as dear to his heart as he was to yours at all, however you still smiled through the ache within your chest in hopes that it was just a delayed response on his part.

Nothing. Viktor didn’t even make an attempt to speak to you and just continued being hunched over his workbench with no intention on stopping, acting as though you were merely just a breeze that passed him by and not a human being he was once close to, begging him to acknowledge you and acknowledge the history between the two of you.

‘How long have you been cooped up in here like a little hermit.’ You tried to attempt a joke that only felt awkward and painful when the Viktor didn’t make a sarcastic quip back towards you. He left you in silence once again as you felt your hope slowly start to die within your chest and your smile began to fade from your lips as your resolve began to waver. You swallows thickly as you tired not to let this get to you and instead believe that he couldn’t hear you, and so you walked closer to him until you rested a hand upon his shoulder, making him stop working for a moment before going back to what he was doing soon after.

‘How long has it been since you slept, eaten anything, or just get some fresh air?’ You asked with concern towards his health and how it seemed that he was driving himself down into the ground for academic validation for his work. ‘Why don’t you take a break and take some time away from-‘

‘Not everyone has the luxury of time on their hands.’ Viktor cuts you off but not in the way you’d hope. His words cut through you, making you flinch away from him from the bitter tone that came from him as though he burnt you. ‘They need help now and I won’t allow any further distractions to hinder me from doing so.’ He adds and it obviously felt very pointed towards you as if you were the problem he now faced and you couldn’t help but get a little upset over this.

‘And kill yourself in the process? Who’s going to help them when you’re dead Viktor because it’s sure as hell not me!’ You bit back as you moved back towards the door, finding no point in standing by his side if he was so willing to discard you like you were nothing in the pursuits of science. ‘I’m not going to stand here and watch you lose yourself to your work, I won’t do it.’ You add with certainty but it’s Viktor’s next words that really hurt you despite the softness of his voice, now was sharp as ice and just as piercing.

‘Then don’t bother darkening my door any longer than you already have.’

You stiffened up at this as you felt your heart tore itself in half at the unnecessary hostility thrown towards you as the rift between the two of you had finally made itself known in this moment. The closeness you once shared with Viktor was now an illusion you fell for so willingly, all with the hopes that something more would come from it one day, much like the hopeless romantic that you truly were. However in this moment it was revealed that none of that mattered to him, not as much as it did to you and just as you were about to leave the lab, you looked over at his back and said;

‘Goodbye Viktor. I promise to never be an inconvenience to you ever again since that’s what you wish for.’ And without needing to hear him, you walked out of the lab, shutting the door behind you as you walked down the hall as silent tears fell from your cheeks as you kissed goodbye the one good thing you had left to keep your head above water; however without it you could feel yourself slipping beneath the waves that had threatened to crash over you for a long, long time as you had lost your anchor and you have the angry to care what happens to you.

…

Everything that happened in a matter of seconds. Too fast for anyone to notice what was going on before it was too late and a wave of pain greeted you as you blacked out.

The council was attacked and all signs pointed towards Zaun as the perpetrators.

Viktor was lucky enough to have somehow miraculously survive with the help of the hexcore but you on the other hand were left in a coma from the explosion. All Viktor knew when he came through in his new body was the news that you had could’ve died had you been just a tiny bit closer to bear the brunt of the unforeseen attack. The doctors were overlooking your possibilities of awaking from the coma, they claim that chances of that happening were slim but they believed that you were strong enough to pull through it, not that any of this mattered to Viktor as for all he was aware was that even if you did awake he’d be the last person you wanted to ever see.

He was told that upon being rescued from the rubble you looked like you had already died with the amounts of deep gashes that littered across your face, he got told that you didn’t even look like you were breathing at all, but you looked oddly at peace with the outcome of such a tragedy; as though you were silently suffering inside your own head for a long time and this was you gladly accepting the fate bestowed upon you.

Viktor didn’t know what hurt more, the fact that you could’ve died, or the idea that you were more then willing to have died in the attack then wake in a reality where he had all but pushed you aside. He couldn’t blame you for not wanting anything to do with him anymore, not after trying so hard to get through to him in the past, only for him to retaliate with words that you didn’t deserve. You had every right to never allow him into your life ever again, Viktor didn’t feel he was deserving of a second chance with you, especially not after something as traumatic as almost dying.

Now upon retrospect it would’ve been morbidly poetic had he did die in the attack, his hand reaching towards your own but never truly touching, a reminder that he had severed that connection with you the moment more was demanded of him and of hextech; A once beloved and respected connection that’ll never mend for the damage was already done due to his own hubris.

You deserved more then him and Viktor knew this painfully well enough to continue to drive the wedge between the two of you, all in hopes that you too would see that you were better off in search of something new with someone else, and yet he couldn’t help but cling onto you for himself so selfishly as though he wasn’t the one who caused you pain in favour of staying within the lab to his own devices. Viktor knew he was being ridiculous and he would only be hurting you in the process with his indecision of whether to keep you close by his side, or as far away from him as possible.

Yet everything within him told him to at least visit you, just to be certain that you would be strong enough to emerge from the coma, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that despite how much he wished to see you recover much like you had been bedside for him when his health declined sharply. Viktor remembered the day clear as day as the concern within your eyes shone, and the grip you had on his hand tightened every so often with every inhale and exhale, you didn’t say a single word but you didn’t half to as viktor has taught himself to read you better then most. It was clear that you were afraid but didn’t have the heart to speak up on it, and now he was face with a similar situation.

You were the ache in his heart that he couldn’t be rid of, no matter how much change his body went through, not that he wanted to either and Viktor knew he was the ache within your heart. You two pained each other with your absences, comforted each other’s overthinking minds and gave each other the company you so needed. You needed each other but didn’t at the same time, it was a never ending game with yourself and Viktor as you didn’t know whether to get close to one another or keep the distance between you and pretend that you’re both not hurting when you were.

However Viktor may regret the words he had spoken to you, it doesn’t change fate in the slightest, he was with his commune in the Undercity and you were still in that coma you should’ve awoken from weeks ago. Yet now and then Viktor would find himself looking to his side where he would normally feel you, only to see nothing but thin air and close his eyes as he took a deep breath to compose himself. He regrets everything he said to you but they wouldn’t change the hurt you were both suffering from, Viktor wanted you by his side in that moment but knew he’s better off wishing for that in another life, a life where he chose you.

Now he’ll get to know how sweet that life would be like and the ache within the remains of his heart hurt just that little more, for you, the ache within his him that he couldn’t get rid of but needed all the same to remind himself that he was still the Viktor you once loved.

[goddess-of-green]

BotW Link Being a Quiet (and Sleepy) Drunk

(A/N:) Playing TotK and immediately my soul is being recaptured by Linky Winky

(Edit:) This draft is almost a year old! I started it the day TotK came out, lol

Contains: GN!Reader, could be interpreted as either botw or totk link, him being CUTE

Word Count: 474

Link's face pressed into the crook of your neck, having migrated a bit since he'd put his head on your shoulder earlier in the evening.

You smiled and lightly stroked his hair, which earned you a hum--the vibrations of which you could feel in your neck.

It wasn't like Link wasn't affectionate, he was incredibly affectionate when he's certain it's not unwanted. However, even with your constant prompting and encouragement for him to be more open with his displays of affection, he still always kept a respectful distance when you were around others.

You didn't take it personally, you knew it was just the way he was; and a part of you liked that his affection was reserved for just the two of you--that you were the only one who got to see him like that.

Still, that wasn't to say that you didn't like when Link was more open about his love for you, which was something often brought out by inebriation.

He's a quiet drunk, just as he is sober, and one might not think he's affected much at all by the alcohol, but you can tell.

You can see how his eyes linger on you for longer than usual, notice the clinginess that usually comes with him being in that state. And one thing that you loved was how he became more vocal.

Yes, he was a quiet drunk, but less quiet than when he is sober; and you relish in his soft sighs and hums as he nuzzles into your neck, unbothered by the presence of the others.

Zelda smiled at the sight of you two, but the others didn't seem to take notice. Sidon and Yunobo were in deep conversation, while Riju was idly talking about jewelry to Zelda.

Link wrapped an arm around your waist, hand settling on your hip. He seemed intent on keeping his face in your neck, and you recalled him once telling you that you always smelled good.

"Hmm..." Link sighed, squeezing your hip. You continued to stroke his hair.

Even though he became more daring when he was drunk, he'd still never touch you in a sexual way in even a semi-public context. You knew he just wanted to be closer to you. (Sometimes you wondered in amusement, if Link would attach himself to you, given the opportunity.)

Link looked sleepier than anything, and you brushed gently along his ears, coming to a decision.

"Everyone, it's been amazing to meet with you all and catch up, but I think it's about time we turn in for the night." You smiled, helping Link up, who neglected to let go of you. Whether due to trouble keeping upright or simply a desire to touch you, you didn't know.

Not that it really mattered. All you were worried about now was getting your boy to bed. 

[f1daydreamers]

𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐨𝐧𝐬 [𝐌𝐕𝟏]

gif credits: @overtake

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

Summary: Seeing your boyfriend play with his nephews stirs emotions inside of you. While it may be the first time you and Max have acknowledged it, it may also be the last.

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, like one mention of alcohol, mentions of an unknown future, parenthood, lmk if I've missed anything!

Word Count: 1.0k words (3 mins reading time avg)

...

The sun dipped below the Monaco skyline, its rays streaming through the expansive windows of the apartment you shared with Max.

In celebration of his successful '23 season, you both agreed that throwing a rather modest dinner would be the perfect way to bring everyone together after a demanding year.

You'd dumped the last of the dirty plates into the sink, thanking Vic as she was already some steps ahead of you, cloth and disinfectant spray in hand as she wiped down the table.

Casting a quick glance around, you confirmed the absence of any stray cutlery, leaving only everyone's respective cups.

However, both your mind and your movements abruptly hit pause, as if your heart had taken the reins, softening at the sight of your boyfriend playing with his nephews, attentively listening to every word they were saying, whether it was meaningful or mere babble.

You smiled as Luka got up and wrapped his small arms around Max's neck, his hand rubbing up and down his little back.

Your eyes even threatened to well up a bit at the wholesome scene. As you brought your fingers up to your face, Max's gaze lifted to meet yours.

You fake-coughed, pretending to shield your mouth, averting your eyes and busying yourself, desperately trying to regain your previously lost train of thoughts.

Max couldn't help softly smiling to himself, but his moment of retrospect was interrupted by a few taps on his cheek from his nephew, who was determined to recapture his uncle's attention.

…

As the evening progressed on, you constantly found your mind plagued with thoughts that unravelled a potential future with him, one that included the laughter and chaos of children.

Yet, a persistent counterargument resounded in your thoughts, reminding you that neither would be ready, both still traversing the barely begun stages of real adulthood.

The internal conflict tugged at your emotions, creating a fine line between the yearning for a future adorned with parenthood and the sober acknowledgment of the unadorned present. As the dinner gradually transitioned into an intimate gathering with hushed conversations among the group that remained, you politely excused yourself.

Max's arm, once comfortably wrapped around your body, now gracefully descended onto the sofa behind you. With your hand placed flat on his thigh, you leveraged yourself up, slipping out of his gentle grasp.

He let maybe five, ten minutes pass by, granting you some alone time should you have needed it.

But eventually, he placed his beer bottle on to the corner table, crossing the lounge before pushing open and then shutting one of the doors to the apartment balcony.

Lost in thought, your mind had barely registered the sound, your body jolting when his hand pressed into the slight dip of your waist.

You sighed when you recognised the touch a few seconds later, turning your head to meet Max's rather sympathetic eyes.

"Sorry," he quietly apologised. You shook your head, dismissing the need for one. Turning to face him, you wrapped both your arms around his torso, gently resting your head against his chest - a hug he warmly welcomed.

"Want to tell me what's going on in that big brain of yours?" He asked, and you could practically sense the smile creeping onto his lips. He had an uncanny knack for knowing when you needed to unload your thoughts, and his intuition was always eerily accurate. You sighed, feeling his grip on you loosen as you pulled away. Leaning against the railing behind you, Max took one step closer, then another. Pursing your lips, you realised how pathetic this may possibly sound when vocalised. "Just watching you with your sister's kids. It got me thinking, I guess."

Your boyfriend already had a strong inkling as to where this was heading, but he patiently granted you the time and space to elaborate.

He arched an eyebrow. "Thinking about what?"

You lightly shrugged, pressing your bottom lip up to your top. You hesitated for a moment before the next words left your mouth.

"You know, family and stuff. Kids."

Max studied your face for a moment. "Kids, huh?" He said with a knowing smile.

You avoided eye contact, answering with a simple, "I don't know."

He chuckled softly. "Is 'I don't know' code for 'I do know but I'm scared to share my answer' because you think I don't know mine?"

Caught off guard, you silently cursed that eerie sixth sense of his, tensing as you looked up into his eyes. They were light, despite the depth of the topic.

You frowned. "Well, do you.. want children, I mean?"

There was a warmth in his gaze, one that offered you comfort. He looked over your face, his shoulders slumped as if the walls of undiscussed territory had crumbled without much of a fight.

"With you, yeah."

Your frown deepened, but this time, a different emotion flickered in your eyes.

His admission was unexpected, and a pleasant shock washed over you. The corners of your lips twitched as surprise softened into a tender smile. For a moment, your gaze lingered on his face, searching for any sign of jest or hesitation, but you didn't find any.

"If you're ready, then so am I." He added.

And just like that, the hours you spent wrestling with your own thoughts now dissipated into the evening breeze. You held back the surge of emotions within you, searching for the right words.

"Really?" you managed, but not without a quiet sob escaping at the end.

Max chuckled, rolling his eyes as he pulled you into him, embracing you for the second time tonight.

"So fragile," he teased, and you smiled despite the tears streaming down your face.

"Shut up," you retorted, your voice a mixture of laughter and tears.

There was a moment's quiet before your boyfriend spoke. "On second thought, why do I need a baby when I've got one right here?"

It was your turn to roll your eyes now, your voice muffled as you tried to argue.

"Babies cry a lot more."

"Hmm, between you and a newborn? I'd say it's pretty even."

You lightly slapped Max's stomach with your hand; his laughter eventually melting into a warm smile, and he pressed a lingering kiss to the top of your head.

...

Masterlist

[innerfare]

Blue Balls - Sabo: Part 2  

Summary: Sabo takes care of his blue balls; text below the cut

Pairing: Sabo x Afab!Reader

Genre: smut

CW: dirty talk, oral sex (Sabo receiving), mentions of penetrative sex

Word Count: 1,378

———

You kicked off your shoes and stood up, pulling your shirt over your head and slipping off your shorts- they were Sabo’s favorite, but he hadn’t even noticed you wore them, consumed as he was by his arousal. You figured you’d just have to wear them again tomorrow, assuming the two of you got out of bed. 

Sabo’s hands reached for you the entire time you undressed. His fingers grabbed at your legs and tugged at your panties when you pulled off the shorts, and when you climbed onto the bed, his hands found your breasts. He grabbed and squeezed, eyes glued to them as he kneaded them, amazed by the way they moved. 

“Sabo.” 

He looked up in time for your lips to catch his. A fire ignited inside him. He met you tongue first, not even trying to be restrained as he forced his way into your mouth. He wanted to swap as much saliva with you as possible, to suck on your tongue and bite your lips like the animal he was. 

Your hands massaged his shoulders and chest. You could barely keep up with the pace of his kiss, if it could even be called that. He always started with sweet pecks before things heated up, but you had been gone so long, both of you dove straight into the boiling water. You felt the heat against your breasts and core, your boyfriend pulling you into his lap and grinding against you. It was all you could do to keep your panties on. 

“Sabo.” Breathless, you pulled away. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you, too.” He leaned back in for another kiss, but you didn’t let him recapture your lips. “Y/n, please.” 

“I missed kissing more than just your mouth,” you told him, wiping your lips on your arm. You nipped at his jawline before pulling his earlobe into your mouth and tugging. “Let me suck you off, big boy. That’s what you were thinking about, right?” 

Sabo let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a whimper. “I want to fuck you, too, though. And I won’t last long enough for both.” His cheeks burned with embarrassment at his confession, but he thought admitting it was worse than you expecting him to run a marathon and hum tapping out unexpectedly. 

A small giggle escaped your lips. “I’m sure you’ll be ready to go again pretty fast,” you said in his ear. “You always are.” 

He puffed up his chest a little bit. If you were okay with splitting it into multiple rounds, he’d make those rounds the best of your life. “Fuck, I love you.” 

“Mmm, I love you, too.” You planted a sloppy series of kisses on his cheek, and it wasn’t long before your lips migrated back to his lips. You devoured him, your excitement piquing as you imagined his cock in your mouth. 

It took all your strength to break away from his lips and kiss down his chin, though once you reached his throat, you found it was even better. You could feel his pulse when you pressed your lips against his throat, could feel his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down when he swallowed, could even hear his moans better. 

You left a string of love bites down the line of his neck.  

When you reached his hard chest, he tangled his fingers in your locks and sank deeper into the pillows. His eyes fluttered shut as he got lost in the sensation of your lips on his skin, the greatest sensation in the world- better than food, better than fighting, better than freedom, better than anything. 

“Sabo,” you said in that sweet voice of yours. “Let go.” 

“What? Why?” He blinked down at you. 

“I need to put my hair up.” 

“What?” He tightened his grip on your hair, as if you might take it away from him and leave the bedroom, never to retune again. “No!” 

You giggled at the panic in his voice. 

“I can hold it for you,” he insisted. 

“The last time you did that, I was brushing knots out of it for a week.” 

“I won’t tangle it this time.” He smoothed your hair as if to prove he could be trusted to hold it out of your face without making a complete mess of it. “I won’t, y/n. Please, let me hold it for you.” 

You didn’t believe him for a second, but you also couldn’t say no to that face. 

With a resigned sigh, you helped him gather your hair into a makeshift ponytail. Once it was out of the way, you turned your attention back to him. You could only just make out the scars on his chest, abdomen, and arms in the dim light, scars you ran your fingers and lips over while Sabo gasped and moaned. 

You had been consumed by thoughts of his warm body the entire time you had been away and almost couldn’t believe you had him under you once more. 

Trailing your lips down his stomach, you smiled to yourself as you felt his muscles twitching beneath you. When you finally reached his cock, you sat back and pushed his legs apart. He didn’t even try to fight you. 

Sabo pushed himself up against his pillows so he could reach your hair more easily, taking his job very seriously. He focused as hard as he could on keeping it out of your face for fear thinking about your lips would cause him to ejaculate before you even got to the best part. As desperate as he was to get off, he couldn’t stand the thought of blowing his load before you wrapped those lips around him. 

Long and thick, rock hard, with full balls and a little bit of blonde hair around the base, Sabo was so pretty you couldn’t help but lick your lips. You brushed your thumb over the biggest vein, perhaps your favorite part, before pressing a kiss against the head. 

Sabo let out a long string of groans. He sounded like he was trying to talk but couldn’t quite form words. 

You started with the balls, running your soft tongue over them before pressing a few kisses into the sensitive skin, smiling as Sabo came undone. You flattened your tongue at the base of his cock and ran it up the length, flicking it a few times when you hit the tip. You went back down and began sucking from the side, leaving enough saliva for your hand to glide easily up and down. 

With a firm grip on him, you took the head into your mouth. You sucked and flicked your tongue, and just when he thought he couldn't take your teasing anymore, you dipped your head low and took his full length into your mouth. You went up and down, pumping your hand along his length each time your mouth left him.  

Sabo’s toes curled. He didn’t know what to do with his legs; he tried not to kick them. He tried not to buck his hips, either, but to little avail. One hand in your hair, the other tangled in his sheets, he could do nothing but grunt and groan as you sucked the tension out of his cock. All of the pleasure that had been evading him washed over him with your touch. 

“Fuck.” He felt his balls tighten. “Oh, fuck. Y/n, I’m-” 

You hummed with him in your mouth, and he snapped. He shot his load into your mouth, overcome by the comfort of cumming somewhere warm. It lasted several seconds longer than his usual orgasms, dredging up the stress that had settled in the recesses of his body and ejecting it. 

As he finished, he reluctantly let go of your hair. 

You swallowed every last drop, sitting back when he finished and wiping your mouth. You smiled down at him, so very taken by the sight of him sprawled across his bed, chest rising and falling rapidly. Just when you moved to get up, thinking he would want something to eat between rounds, he grabbed you and dragged you underneath him. 

“Never leave again,” he panted. “Not for that long. Never.” 

With a smile, you pressed a kiss into his cheek. “Never.” 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[muffinsin]

hello, this is anon who send thought about buff cass 🙇🏻‍♀️

this is my first request and i'm sorry if my thought was cringe, can i request about fem reader gym date with g!p Cassandra and then they're ended up with passionate sex? Thank youu 🩷

Oh? (I wish I remembered which thought that was🙇‍♀️! But here y’all, a little throwback to one of my favorite, if not my favorite buff Cassie art by @zeleneagle -> here)

And it isn’t cringe at all, hon! :) absolutely!🙌 we’ve got some more Top! Cass loving here, I see🥳

Masterlists

You gulp subtly as you take in the sight before you, your pussy aching, your panties wet already as they cling to your body. Your wide eyes are set on only one thing:

Your girlfriend,

Cassandra.

How her hair, dark, long and thick, falls down her neck and lightly brushes against her shoulders as she moves, the bun it’s held in slowly loosening a little. With her hair messy like this, you can’t help but think of the countless other times her hair was messy.

She stands tall, a weight held in each of her strong, tall, scarred hands. Her black sport bra clings to her tightly, exposing her pale, muscular stomach and the biceps set along her lightly scarred arms.

Then, your eyes drop a little lower and you nearly drop your concentration despite only stretching this far. Immediately, you find the bulge in her pants, a black pair of leggings that she usually wears when working out. She stands with her legs slightly apart, her black sneaker-like shoes pressed against the stony ground. When you first saw her in her signature black, gothic dress you thought she couldn’t look any more arousing.

That is, until you began asking the Duke to bring more…modern clothing, and now find yourself drooling over her day after day, whether in jeans or leggings, even the baggy pants she wears to bed occasionally.

Oh, but these leggings…

Your face flushes a bright pink. Beneath your own sports bra you feel your nipples harden already while your pussy aches and throbs. You’re surprised she hasn’t picked up on it yet, certain that she can smell you. Your eyes find her bulge easily, and momentarily you freeze, forgetting you were stretching to warm up a little. You see the outline of her cock, pressed up against the fabric, her tip, her thick base, her heavy balls…

You aren’t sure for how long you’ve been staring at her, nor whether she noticed, but blink away your thoughts when she turns to you, her dark golden eyes finding yours effortlessly. She smirks, as though entirely aware of the desire, eagerness, adoration and devotion rising in you. You want nothing but to drop to your knees and taste her, or spread your legs and allow her to taste you. You wonder- will she bite again today? Nip at your inner thigh as she likes to do before eating you out. An odd, sharp sensation, but the intense pleasure you receive when she drinks from you is more than worth it.

You bite your lip as she approaches you, bending momentarily to set the weights to the floor. Her hand moves to your hip, and even as she speaks you feel her thumb run light circles against your exposed skin.

The smallest of touches from her have you smile and squirm already, and she knows it.

You feel her squeeze your hip, as though to recapture your attention, and you blush, as if caught thinking such things about her. It’s not surprising to her, of course, as the smirk on her lips tells you, but your cheeks heat up all the same.

“Didn’t wanna go for the bench after all?”, she teases, her gaze intense, her voice so perfectly low and seductive even when she doesn’t try. You gulp, but shake your head, an idea forming in your mind already.

“You first”, you hum, gesturing towards the machine. When she walks, you can’t help but let your eyes fall on her strong shoulders and back, then her shapely, thick ass and strong thighs.

When she lays down by the bench, her knees bent and strong thighs at the sides, you can once again only watch eagerly when her strong arms lift and strong fingers wrap around the bars of the weight she’s about to lift.

Normally, this would be when you turn back to normal weights, or perhaps to try out some moves at the mannequin, showing off all she’s taught you.

Now, you have different plans.

Cassandra gasps in surprise when she feels you sit down on her thigh, your fingertips resting against her pale, muscular stomach. You stroke over it for a few moments, your fingertip dipping and tracing and taking it all in.

“What are you doing?”, she asks, lifting her head and the bars just enough to meet your eyes. You don’t answer, only shrug playfully as your fingertip traces down more, and more, and more.

She groans when you cup her bulge through the tight leggings, but still lifts the weight seemingly effortlessly. You desperately want to see how much longer she can keep this up.

When you begin to trace her bulge playfully, you’re sure you hear a sound coming from her akin to a growl, whereas her flies buzz as if in irritation. She grits her teeth, her body heating up a little.

Then again, you’re no better, certainly.

You feel the heat between your legs and are certain she feels it too, even through the fabric of your clothing.

“Careful”, she almost seems to growl, her flies buzzing a little louder, her muscles flexing as she lifts the weights over and over again. You subtly grind down on her thigh, biting you lip before your hands wander to the waistband of her leggings.

Then, unable to restrain yourself when your eyes meet her golden ones, you tug them down with her boxers, giggling when she lifts her hips just enough to make this easier for you.

When you at last get to see her hard, throbbing cock, your hands fly to it immediately and you whine, panting lowly beneath your breath. Your clit aches already and you’re sure you’ve made a mess of your panties and underwear.

“Fuck…”, Cassandra groans, her eyes closing momentarily as your hands find her cock’s base and begin to stroke up and down. She shivers, her thighs flexing, her arms trembling for a moment before she continues lifting the weights as before.

You decide, you don’t want to tease her now, feeling far too eager to feel her back inside of you, instead.

And still, you jerk your hand up and down, play with her tip and stroke down her cock to her base and balls before going back up.

More,

and more,

and more.

Your mouth waters and you begin stealing grinding down on her, feeling far too warm in your own clothing suddenly.

How is it teasing Cassandra only ever has you feel teased, foo?

Licking your lips, you continue stroking her with one hand while the other tugs at your clothing, lifting your top and tugging down your leggings and underwear in one go. You know by now how she likes you, naked, kneeling, obeying. Being a good girl for her. Then again, you know she’s plenty capable of putting you in your place when you act out, with great enjoyment even.

You lean forward, giggling as she nearly loses her grip on the weights and they come down the her sides of the bench, her fingers circling around the bar holding them up. Still, at this point it’s harder the bars at the equipment holding them up, not her arms.

Of course, you can’t help but take advantage of this, leaning down, holding onto the bar for yourself.

It’s far too heavy for you to lift, but you like the way it restricts her movements for now, leaving her down on the bench when you lean down and brush your lips against hers.

“Careful, morsel”

You shiver at her words, at her voice, at the sensation of her tip brushing against your inner thigh when you move up a little.

Alas, you’re determined, and far too eager.

When you slowly sink down, you can’t help but moan, your arms trembling, your lips parting automagically. She groans, but chuckles, knowing that even now she’s the one in control. And as such, she makes her first command;

“Ride.”

You gasp at her words, your cheeks adapting a light, pink colour as you obey, moaning and whimpering as you lower yourself a little more to take more of her inside.

Below, she groans, her fingers curling around the bar as though she wanted to touch you, instead. You’re sure she will, later, though obey for now.

“Please…”, you moan, though aren’t even entirely sure what for.

For her to touch you?

For her to thrust upwards, to help you out?

For her to take you properly?

For nothing at all?

You squirm and moan, your thighs trembling and your pussy tightening around her. You feel so sensitive, your clit throbbing, her thick cock slowly sliding deep inside of you until, at last, it reaches its limit too and you feel her completely inside of you.

You sink down again, moaning against her lips before you raise your head again, exposing your throat to her. If the bar didn’t keep her down, you’re sure she’d bite down already, piercing your flesh and drinking the blood beneath.

“More”, she demands, her voice breathy, her fingers curling around the bars a little tighter yet again.

And again, you obey, move your hips a little faster and roll them into her.

You feel yourself getting close embarrassingly fast, but can hardly help yourself. She’s so deep, so thick, so long. You shut your eyes, feeling yourself tear up a little from the pleasure that’s running through your very veins.

But it seems, Cassandra’s had enough of being denied the touch of your body properly.

“A-AH!”, you gasp in surprise when she pushes you back a little, yanking the weights up and effortlessly tossing them to the side with strength only those infected by the cadou could display.

Your hips are gripped tightly instead and you shriek as she brings you down on her properly, her tongue lapping at your breasts until her lips wrap around your nipple.

Briefly, it stings, when her teeth dig into your skin, then aches when they cut across it, and lastly you feel more and more pleasure as she sucks and yanks your hips a little faster.

“Good…girl…”, she groans, her eyes shutting, her back ached a little as she sits up a little straighter.

“A-Ah, Ca-ssan-dra-ah!”, you yelp out, your eyes closing, your breasts bouncing with every sharp tug and yank up and down. She’s holding you tight, controlling your movements effortlessly. When your hands wander to her shoulders, she hums, whereas you moan at the feeling of her muscles beneath your very fingers.

You feel yourself getting close again already, the light, bubbly feeling in your stomach rising with every passing moment. She’s beautiful, a perfect combination of dominating and rough, loving and gentle, strong and guiding.

“I-m-gon-a-aH!”!

You can’t finish your sentence, can only moan when she rolls your hips with every thrust and thrusts right up against your G-spot over and over and over again.

When she whispers the command for you to cum, you obey, your body going almost limp as you scream and moan.

But she holds you, kisses you, hugs you to her and comforts you. She presses little kisses to your neck as you come down from your high and chuckles against your throat when you finally manage to catch your breath.

Lastly, she still presses three little kisses to your neck.

[drarryspecificrecs]

2024.10 ~ Top 10 longest fics posted on AO3

1. Celestial Being by Year_ofthe_Rabbit [?, 192k]

The entire universe conspired to make clear that the king Draco’s family had put into power deserved to be overthrown in a bloody coup, to be replaced by a younger, brighter, more beloved king. Draco lost everything and was left to live as a despised servant in his aunt's household. He didn't accept it. No, he would do whatever it took to recapture the life he deserved. Even if that was only possible during an equinox ball, where he could live one anonymous night at a time as a captivating celestial being.

2. In Over My Head by @dracoispookie [E, 184k]

The first wizard going to Hogwarts Harry ever meets is an older boy who is polite, funny, and very good looking. Harry navigates his way through school knowing one thing for sure: he's in way over his head.

3. Comfortable by @peculiarmindset [E, 155k]

Draco and Harry goes through the uncharted waters in their relationship, and slowly become more and more comfortable with one another.

4. what shipwrecks look like by @dancingsparks [E, 149k]

It's after the war, but not terribly long after. Just enough for things to appear happily settled. Draco is an Obliviator. Harry is an Auror. Draco is desperately jealous of that.

5. Defiant Hearts by @coffeedrgn87 [E, 117k]

In Regency England, the price of love is high. Draco, the sole heir to the Malfoy family's vast fortune and reputation, longs to marry for love. His father, Lucius Malfoy—a cold, heartless man—disagrees. With his father breathing down his neck, demanding that Draco court a suitable young lady, Draco's time to find a love match is running out. Then there's Harry, the last descendant of the Potter family, once a noble house with a vast fortune, great respect, and considerable influence. Harry knows his duties, but what he truly desires is a love match—an equal. When an unexpected Regency-style meet-cute turns everyone's plans upside down, Draco becomes a rebel, and Harry must make a decision that will define the rest of his life.

6. Can't turn back now (I'm haunted) by exhiled_spirit [M, 108k]

Draco left his friends and (ex) husband in hopes of moving on from his heartbreak and finding himself in the muggle world. Four years later he returned, rich and famous, to finish off his never ending divorce.

7. Taking Off The Rose Coloured Glasses by @thatwheelchairchick [M, 85k]

After his fourth year at Hogwarts, Harry Potter returns to the Dursleys, where their abuse escalates dramatically, leaving him physically and emotionally shattered. Haunted by nightmares and the voice of Voldemort in his mind, Harry begins to doubt Dumbledore’s intentions, recalling past manipulations. Desperate and near death from a particularly brutal beating, Harry reluctantly accepts Voldemort’s offer of help.

8. a barely lit path by @garagepaperback [E, 64k]

Harry wakes up wanting to live, Draco seems determined to - well, not die, exactly, but you could hardly call it a life, either. /// Featuring: peacocks and a family curse, avoidance, red-rimmed eyes in a blanket fort, a fantastic variety of headaches, sobriety, a toy finger trap and whether or not it's possible for good to grow out of something ugly.

9. Your Heart Got a Story With Mine by futurefortem [M, 62k]

When a wizard or witch turns 17 they become off age. When a wizard or witch turns 18 though they discover their soulmate. On Harry's 18th birthday his world turns upside down. /// Or, the one where Draco and Harry are forced to overcome their differences and discover what it actually was that kept fire burning between them.

10. Rotations by TheCrowCrone [E, 53k]

Trainee Auror Potter receives a new assignment as an Azkaban guard and his life, which finally seems to be settling into something almost normal, is turned upsidedown once more the night he saves Draco Malfoy. But in a post-war world, at least for Harry, the smallest things, like appreciating a sunset and enjoying a hot meal, are sometimes the hardest, while the big things, like death and forgiveness, don't seem that tough. And sometimes, he's just an idiot who falls in love too easily.

※ HONOURABLE MENTIONS :

11. Draco Malfoy and the Pride of the Lion by Fantasy_Critter11 [G, 52k]

All his life Draco Malfoy has awaited the day when he'd finally get to ride the Hogwarts Express to the school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and of his dreams. Those dreams are upended in seconds, however, when he sees a scrawny boy pacing outside of the barrier, asking how to get onto platform nine and three quarters. [...] Hogwarts is quickly becoming nothing like Draco had expected it to be in his dreams, but he'll soon find he may not mind being part of the Gryffindor pride as he initially thought.

12. What Fills the Void That’s Left Behind by @tessacrowley [E, 46k] --- ART by @itsphantasmagoria

At the end of October, Draco Malfoy slashes open both wrists and bleeds to death. By the middle of November, Head Auror Harry Potter agrees to take his case. But there are entities more ghastly than the ghosts that haunt the Malfoy Manor, and fates more horrible than death. When the wound is so deep that you lose a part of yourself, what fills the void that’s left behind?

—

※ Word count: 1k ~ 15k

※ Word count: 15k ~ 40k

All is found by ProseMary [G, 16k]

Come, Sweet Death by EvilDime [E, 27k]

Daring Revelations by @spicyfirenoodles [E, 26k]

Everything is coming up Draco by @liligalaxy [M, 37k]

Green by @pixiedunhoff [E, 17k]

The Guardian and The Sword by @mykkitno [?, 37k]

It's Not Hate Sex If You're Secretly In Love With Your Baby Daddy! by @peachydreamxx [E, 33k] --- ART by @littlewinnow

the latch is undone by @aibidil [E, 24k]

Old Rivalries, New Beginnings by @philosophersandfools [T, 29k]

Raising Hell! by @wolfpants [E, 21k]

—

Ongoing Fest/Exchange

※ Fics would be listed elsewhere.

2024 H/D Muggle Fair | @hd-fan-fair

Cult of Chaos Cultober 2024

Gothic Fantasy Fest 2024 | @twhos-fests​

HP Halloween Fest 2024

Trick 4 Treat: A Twisted Sweet

[weepingchronicles]

This may sound bland but can you do Jinx with a darling who has just been recaptured after they escaped a second time tyy

a/n: not bland at all! thank you for waiting and requesting this!

cw: mental breakdown mentions, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome(?), killing mentions, manipulation, yandere behavior, EXTREMELY unhealthy relationship guys, physical violence

❝yandere!jinx x gn!reader getting recaptured❞

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 It doesn't take very long for Jinx to catch you, even if you are thinking you're safe she is simply lurking, watching you until she decides it is time to take you back.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 Her initial reaction when you escape is not very good. Full psychotic breakdown is what I'm saying. She will start hearing and seeing things, it's best to be slow and quiet to not risk getting accidentally shot.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 She might even accidentally kidnap others who she mistakes for being you, simply killing them off after she realizes.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 You're all her mind can think about, any other matter or responsibility she has right now is unimportant in her mind. Not that she thinks they were important anyway.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 Once she finally finds you she wants to just knock you out and take you back where you belong but she stops herself. Like a feline, she lurks and watches you. Baiting her time to sink her claws into you. How did you manage to escape and what have you been doing since then? Who helped you?

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 If you got help from others or god forbid, start laughing and being all buddy buddy with someone they are gone. Gone, dead, bam. One reason is the impulsivity and her damn possessiveness. It is what makes her pull the trigger to anyone who stands too close to you. Another is to teach you a lesson, a valuable lesson that no matter what you can't escape her. She'll find you in the end and will kill anyone who knew about it.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 A sadistic part of her gleams as you cry all pathetically, it almost makes her angry that you're crying about a bunch of losers who you barely even knew. You should be reaching out to her, crying for her.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 She drags you home anyway, mumbling out a bunch of threats and battling the voices in her own head. If you want to survive without any bullets penetrating your body, it's best to keep quiet and listen.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 Getting home isn't any better, the whole place is a mess. More than it was before. It's clear she lost her marbles when you left, from furniture thrown and bullet dents in the walls.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 She'll toss you around, screaming at you for leaving her, pointing her gun just a little too close. She's erratic and there is no stopping her.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 You flinch, ducking your head and shielding your head in a futile attempt of protection. You were scared of her. How could you not be? Jinx takes a pause, looking down at her gun in her trembling hand before throwing it over her shoulder completely.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 She drops to her knees, wailing in tandem with you, perhaps even louder. Jinx clings onto you, grasping at your limbs and clothes like you're deprived oxygen.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it, I wouldn't ever hurt you. I'm sorry, please don't leave me!" A part of Powder comes out of her and her desperation eerily resembles a broken child inside. Some piece of you aches despite the pain she's caused you. It isn't entirely her fault she is born this way, what her trauma caused her to be.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 You can't forgive her though, not after all that's been done but.. you can pretend. "Please don't leave me again," and you nod in response.

artist credits: @/iwantmoretime17 on instagram

[pasdasin]

Ktober day 4 - prostitution - Batman x reader

an: Sorry for the late post but I should be all caught up now! As you guys know this is in collab with my two irls @fuckmachine42069 and @honeybeedrabble. be sure to check our their pages

cw: prostitution, cussing, batman is mean :(, porn without plot, this is more like a drabble lol, probs more lmk if I missed anything

read under the cut

———

“Are you feeling lonely again bats?” You asked him after taking a long drag from your cigarette. The fearsome dark knight was your best client. You could expect him to come to you at least once a week, mainly when the robins go on patrol. He merely grunted at you before leading you to the motel room he booked. “What would the people of gotham do when they hear about what their favorite vigilante does in the dark?” You giggled going to sit on the bed. 

He went to remove his cape and set it aside. Pulling out a stack of money he put it on the side table.

“Just the usual.”

“Who are you, really?” He stared at you as you put out your cigarette. “Okay so we aren’t that close yet”

“Just make me cum”

----

Your moans filled the room as he thrusted into your tight cunt harshly. Gripping the bed sheets, your eyes rolled back.

“Fuck bats-” He grunted, slowly loosing himself into your pussy. 

“It’s like your made for me” His grip on your ass tightened causing you to loud moaner. His tactical pants hung at his knees while the rest of his costume remained in place. His leather gloves dug into your skin perfectly. 

The sounds of sex filled the room as you thrusted harder into you. 

“Please- I need to-” You felt his hand gripped your neck, putting pressure on your jugular. 

“You’ll cum when I say.” He slowed his grip on you and you let out an even louder moan. Your vision was starting to blur and you felt as though you were gonna pass out, when sundely he let go. You gasped for air as you fought back moans, trying to recapture your senses. His thrusts got sloppier and before you could stablize yourself, his cum filled your cunt. He fucked you through his orgasm before he slowed to a stop. Slowly he pulled out of you, watching his cum drip out of you. 

“Bats-”

“Bruce”

“What?”

“My name is Bruce. Now lay back” You turned to lay on your back as he moved your legs over his shoulders. Without warning, he licked a long stripe up your pussy. His toungue spread his cum all over your pussy, making you moan even louder than before. He started to lick circles over your clit. You moved your hands to his cowl and gripped it. He moaned into you, causing vibrations to move through your body.

“Bruce I’m gonna cum.” He only moved more intensely against your clit, sending you over the edge. Your thighs clamped around his head as your back arched off the bed. His cum mixed with your own filled his mouth ashe finally moved away from you. Your chest rised up and down with heavy breaths as he cleaned himself off. 

“Why would you tell me your name?”

“Your my favorite whore. Take my money and stop getting personal.” He pulled up his pants and rearranged his costume. Without another word, he left you in the room to care for yourself. Rolling over you looked at the cash he left and smiled to yourself at the note he left.

Here is my personal cell. Use for phone sex only. 

[estellardreams]

[Demon King Red belongs to @purble-turble] (Once again I will lore dump)

Considering the circumstances of the Charcoal Bone King AU, it's MK and Macaque who got it the worst.

MK was swiftly recaptured by a sudden and direct attack by the king himself, and with LBD's new powers combined with King Red's extreme drive and obsessive, no one was prepared. But they did try to stop him.

... Nearly getting frozen to death and the noodle shop decimated in the aftermath did not sit well with anyone. And with the ice and fires rapidly spreading, they were forced to abandon Megapolis and flee.

The ice prison MK got locked in was so frigid that he lost feeling in his hands, feet, and face rapidly, constantly shivering in the cold. With the circlet and new ice cuffs/boots, he was practically trapped in the room unless CBK released him momentarily to bond with him.

Meanwhile Macaque has been consistently losing power due to CBK needing to get stronger, taking away chunks of his energy (therefore dropping his glamour) and using it for his own benefit. Not to mention LBD's ice taking over half of his body, icing over half of his face, one side of his six ears, arm, leg, and small shards on his hip. He's also freezing cold, which isn't doing well on top of his burn marks from CBK lashing out at him.

Surprisingly for these two, Macaque was actually the one to use the last of his strength to teleport himself and MK out of the fortress, moving as far as he possibly could through the shadows. He promptly collapsed right on top of Flower Fruit Mountain... Where the Monkie Kids were temporarily hiding out.

Everyone was genuinely so relieved to have MK back, but the poor boy needed so many blankets, hot food, and a fireplace. He couldn't stop shivering until two weeks after his rescue, that's how cold he was.

Macaque eventually got the ice broken off of him as well, knowing full well how much trouble he was probably in with everyone else. Though, it was MK who stepped in and tried to get everyone to help Macaque due to him rescuing MK, and knowing full well that Macaque probably suffered way worse than him at the hands of CBK.

Cue a potential Macaque redemption arc-

... Okay but on the topic of the samadhi fire what if this got combined with a Samadhi Fire Wukong AU/concept? There should be more of those. And it would be super interesting to watch play out, especially considering Red isn't there to teach him (for obvious reasons) meaning MEI is the one who steps in to tutor him on his new fire.

MK eventually asks to get blasted by the samadhi fire to keep warm but we don't talk about that /j

[cougheemedicine]

Light as a Feather

Blade x GN!Reader

Word Count: 2165

Warnings: Mostly fluff, angst at the end, allusions to prostitution but nothing actually happens, skimmed over but not proof read (I think that’s it?)

Content: Reader works in a brothel as an escort, Reader is the stellaron hunter's informant, mutual pining, longing, Reader yearns for non-intimate affection, Blade is bad at any kind of affection but is trying, Kafka and Silver Wolf mentioned

Summary: As cut-throat and ruthless as Blade could be, he was always gentle with you. Something you’re not used to in your line of work.

A/n: Continuation of my previous work You but can be read on its' own.

Also, guess who’s now obsessed with Love and Deepspace

˜”*°•.•°*”˜

        Being arm candy for some rich politician for a night was easy enough on its own. Dress yourself to the nines in your finest finery, powder yourself in only the most expensive make up, and flash that show-stopping smile of yours. Make the other attendees laugh a little, and your patron may just throw in a tip.

        You've done it before, you've got the act down to an art at this point. When to laugh, when to bat your lashes, whose hand to kiss and who to turn your nose up to. You'll do anything for the right price.

        But there's something about this place, and the patrons, that sends a shiver clawing up your spine. The eyes are colder than you're used to, and the champagne is sour. The pillars holding up the high ceilings and grand chandeliers are rotten at the base, and you don't know how much longer the foundation will hold.

        Your patron, a devilishly handsome politician who'd recently taken the spotlight for all the wrong reasons, takes your hand. He grips your fingers so tightly you wouldn't have been able to pull away if you tried. Making a show of it, he kisses the ring resting on your pinkie finger, the ring he had bought you. "I'll be back shortly. Entertain those officials and their wives for me, won't you? And save me a dance,"

        Music swells as your patron leaves, you catch him shaking hands with a woman in violet out of the corner of your eye before your attention is recaptured by the officials you have hanging off your every word. The lights slowly dim, and groups break off into pairs, heading to the dancefloor. Slowly the people surrounding you dissipate, and you can finally breathe. Empty words, honeyed smiles covering rancid ambitions. It was an entirely new language to learn, and you weren't any kind of scholar.

        The air changes, colder somehow, and you feel eyes on you once more. Though, these eyes don't disgust you.

        "Hey, you,"

        Blade hums, "You look tired,"

        Blade stands shoulder to shoulder with you. Dressed just as fancily as you, even his long hair is elaborately braided back, surely Kafka and Silver Wolf's doing. You glare at him from your periphery. "Good evening to you as well, good sir. What happened to 'you look nice'?"

        Blade hums again, his shoulder brushes against yours, and his gloved fingers ever so lightly graze your knuckles.

        The song changes, and pairs change and sway. People weave their way back to the sidelines as a slow waltz resonates throughout the hall.

        "I didn't know you'd be here of all places. I thought you'd wait till he was somewhere less... public," Your patron didn't choose you. You had carefully placed your picture at the top of the pile of escorts he frequented, all so he'd try to cozy up to you in the way all people of his ilk did when faced with a beautiful face and a silver tongue. You'd been slowly building a file on him for weeks.

        Blade drops his gaze, playing with the ruby ring on your finger worth more than anything you own. "Plan's changed. Kafka's distracting him while Silver Wolf clears his files. I'm here to get you out since we didn't tell you anything. Things'll get messy when he realizes,"

        "Aw, I'm touched. Kafka looks great in violet by the way," Your jest falls as flat as your tone. Far too done with everything to be expressive. You're sure Blade won't mind. "You could've waited till he paid me y'know. I only got the down payment,"

        Blade sighs, and he retracts his hand. "Elio says he needs him gone, we couldn't wait any longer. I'll make sure you're properly compensated,"

        Once more the song changes, another waltz. You step forward, setting your champagne flute on the tray of a passing server before offering your hand to the stellaron hunter. "May I have a dance first? I won't step on your feet. Promise,"

        Blade pulls his lips into a line, contemplative, and a grin spreads across your painted lips as he relents, taking your hand. "Just one,"

        You tug him to the dancefloor, resting your hand on his shoulder. Blade's hand ghosts over the small of your back, barely even guiding you as you both sway to the melody. He keeps you close, despite his hesitance to even touch you. With nothing but a gentle squeeze of your fingers, Blade spins you, tugging you even closer.

        You smile, a short laugh leaving your lips when you finally look at the man's face. His eyes are focused solely on you. Deep crimson, reminiscent only of blood, meets your eye with such a burning intensity you can't bare look away. Even if another shiver goes up your spine, the cause of it completely different than previously.

        You and Blade continue to sway to the music, your chest grazing his, and the feeling of his fingers ghosting over the fabric covering your back sending icy tingles down your back.

°•.

        Ever so lightly, like you'd shatter under his touch, Blade leads you to the balcony of the hall. The eyes of the officials you were entertaining earlier pierce your flesh like rusty daggers, somehow able to zero in on you from across the grand banquet hall. As piercing as their eyes are, and as venom seeps from their lips, surely saying nothing good about you. You keep your gaze forward.

        Blade could feel you stiffen through his gloves and the fabric of your garment. You can feel his thumb rub gentle circles on your back. You catch when his eyes flit to your form, before over his shoulder back into the fray of the event. The patrons, not at all subtly, whispering behind their fans and plates of hors d'oeuvres.

       He huffs, scanning the balcony before bringing you closer by the hip. “Blade, what are you doing?”

       “Hold tight,”

       “What? Why?” A scream leaves your lips, heart in your throat, arms snapping around Blade faster than even you could process as Blade jumps from the balcony of the venue to the roof of a block of luxury condos.

       Blade stabilizes you, hands firm on your shoulders as your legs gain feeling again. “Never,” You grit through heavy breaths “Do that again,”

       Not a chuckle, or even a hum of acknowledgment from the man as he steps away from you, heading to the edge of the roof to get a better look of the surroundings. Your heart clenches in a way unfamiliar to you, especially when paired with the tingling that came with such a delicate touch.

       To think a touch so feather-light from a man as stoic as Blade would have you swooning like a maiden in love. You were used to rough. Controlling and assertive. Like you were a mere thing instead of a living, breathing being. Something as small as Blade brushing his knuckles against yours and playing with the ring on your finger shouldn’t leave you, a practised escort, reeling and needing to collect yourself in the way it does.

       “Well, my knight in shining armour, what are we to do now?” You tack your typical smile on your face, striding forward with a new strength in your gait as if you hadn’t just been clinging to him for fear of collapsing on yourself not even a minute prior. Side by side once more, Blade turns to you, eyes swirling with something so dim you can barely read it. He offers you his hand, stone-faced as ever. “Let’s get you home,”

       It hits you like a bullet, jarring in a way you almost don’t feel it until it’s well too late, and the spark from the barrel has already faded. Blade’s outstretched hand, an offering instead of a command. Even as you place your hand atop his, he doesn’t even clasp it, only brushing his thumb over your knuckles, and that damn ring.

       Blade always gave you the choice. The choice to pull away, the choice to accept. A touch so light you can barely feel it but you still know it’s there. Light as a feather.

˜”*°•.•°*”˜

       Blade groans audibly as he tugs the pins from his hair, the elaborate braids and twists tumbling down his back when he runs his gloved hand through his hair. Now in the comfort of your room, you do the same. Wiping the make up from your face after changing into something much more comfortable. You can see his reflection in your vanity mirror, his back is turned to you.

       “You’re going to get your hair all tangled doing that,”

       Crimson eyes dart to meet yours through the mirror. Blade shrugs his shoulders, turning to you fully in the mirror, “It’s fine,”

       You roll your eyes, being as dramatic as you can with the action as you stand from the stool. You turn to Blade, one hand on your hip and a brush in the other. “Sit down, mister,”

       Blade only blinks at you, dropping his hands to his sides. The stalemate between you both is short lived when Blade sighs heavily, making his way across the room and sitting himself down on your vanity stool. You grin, you win again. Blade’s eyes snap to yours in the mirror, “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not in the mood to argue with you,”

       You hum, situating yourself behind him as you begin brushing his hair “Mhm, whatever you say Bladie,”

       Minutes pass in silence. Only the occasional huff from Blade when your brush hits a particularly tough knot, and your amused hums when your eyes meet Blade’s through the mirror. He looks thoroughly annoyed, and you’re living for it.

       “You’re enjoying this far too much,”

       “Shush, you. If you wanted me to stop you’d have gotten up.”

       Silence follows your exchange, even as you set your brush down. You run your fingers through his hair, twisting it and letting it lay over his shoulder. “Perfect. Now turn to me, your bangs are uneven,”

       Blade does as you say, wordlessly looking up at you from his place. It’s only then do you realize how close the both of you are. Barely three inches of space between you. Blade’s eyelids droop, gazing at you hazily as you raise a hand to his jaw. Tentatively, you let just your fingertips graze his skin, your fingers under his chin while your thumb just barely brushes his jawline. You suck in a breath, using your free hand to fix his bangs. “May I kiss you?”

       “You-“ Blade rasps, barely above a whisper before cutting himself off as you inch closer. As awkward as the angle is, you’re standing between his legs, basically hovering over him. Neither of you move away. A small smile curls across your lips. Blade never forced anything on you, dangling flint the fact he paid you over your head to push you along. The fleeting touches, and stolen time were never a precursor to anything. You could always pull away.

       An inch. A centimetre. Then nothing at all. Blade stands abruptly, the wooden stool scratching against the floor making you wince. You lick your lips, the buzzing sensation of what could’ve been still present. Blade raises his hands, rubbing the underside of your arms as your eyes meet once more. Something you could almost read as regret pooling in his eyes. “Not-“ He sucks in a breath, “Not like this,”

       “Blade, what do you mean-?“

       He dodges your question, weaving around you to your balcony. You all but scramble to follow him, barely avoiding slamming yourself into the glass pane doors. His white-knuckle grip on the railing lessens as you trail behind him. Silently, you place your hand on his, and he turns to you. He stares at you, in that way he always does. Something you can’t quite place in his gaze as he looks at you. He doesn’t move as you get closer again, prying his fingers from the railing to lace with yours.

       “I’m sorry, Blade. I shouldn’t have-“ Blade cuts you off, silently he leans forward, pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead. His grip on your interlocked hands tightens, ever so slightly. The pressure is barely there, you could back away if you wanted. Slip your hand from his and go back inside, but you’d be insane if you did. Blade is the one who back away. The one to lean back, leaving a tingling sensation in your forehead. The one to pry his hand from yours. 

       And, just like that, he’s gone. Off like he was never even there. You raise a hand to your forehead, brushing your thumb against where his lips had been. Light as a feather.

˜”*°•.•°*”˜

work belongs to @cougheemedicine, all forms of plagiarism, modifying, translating, reposting are not allowed.

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Ten

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Later than usual, sorry! But I've been busy with a whole load of shit ngl, it's just been stress:) Let me know if anyone else wants to be added to the taglist though, I realise my updating is a bit sporadic? Maybe? Just a little? Lmao, anyway here's 10, hope you enjoy!

| Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

taglist: @thelastemzy

Masterlist

Jacket potatoes were a fucking delicacy.

Any Brit back home would tell you that. You could top ‘em with all sorts; Chilli, Tuna, Cheese, Chicken, Stuffing, Coleslaw, Bacon, Gravy, Bolognese— some people even liked them plain. But my favourite, as well as the only real and true way to serve a jacket potato, was with an ungodly amount of butter and baked beans.

Being in the States, it was a rather hard dish to come by. But, seeing as Marshall always appeared to go above and beyond, beans (No, none of that shoddy American shit) could be found in the little basket he’d gone and gifted me the day before. A little wicker bowl full of goodies to soothe that little ache of homesickness. 

I smacked the can down onto the countertop and levelled Rosie with a long stare.

“You’re serious?” She asked me around a wary glance, extending her arm out cautiously to get a better look at the bright blue tin as though she thought the contents might just reach out to try and grab her back.

“Deadly.” I remarked, attempting to keep my smile hidden when I met her question with a raised brow, “You’ll love it.”

Rosie didn’t look too convinced about that fact and yet, she rolled up her sleeves and took a seat at the counter to watch me work, helping out with the few things that she could. 

She had waltzed in through the front door a while earlier, just a second after I’d made it up the stairs, and the grin she’d worn when she had spotted me had had my heart warming and the pair of us wandering into the kitchen, arm in arm and already talking at a mile an hour. 

I was sauteing some mushrooms in a pan after having peeled and diced them up, whilst she kept a keen eye on the warming potatoes. “So Dad’s finally found some inspiration then?” Rosie asked me after a while, peering into the oven.

I smiled when I peered over at her, seeing how the orange glow of it washed over the side of her face to softly illuminate her features. “Seems so, we got a lot done but he was on a roll by the end of it.” I told her in reply, shaking the pan again and blinking at the sizzle that sparked up, “What do you mean anyway? Finally.” I dragged out that last word in a small singsong which made her chuckle as she stood to her full height once more and turned.

“He’s been trying to write for a couple weeks now, I think. Or months.” She shrugged, stepping back to watch the mushrooms fry with a slight wrinkle of her nose, “Not sure, but he keeps complaining about it whenever he’s on the phone.”

With a small hum, my eyes flickered back over to her, then to the pan again, “He didn’t mention it.”

Rosie blew out a faint chuckle and leant back against the counter, knuckles wrapping around its edge, “Why would he? He hates jinxing himself.”

It was cute that she noticed things like that about him, something I’d begun to note in the short time I’d been staying with the two, but I didn’t know... A large part of me wished that Marshall would have said something about it before, or at least alluded to it. It made me feel a bit bad for bowing out so early now. 

Still, my mind was quickly recaptured by the task at hand and then the story that Z deemed to tell me about, apparently a teacher thought that one of her friends was a shoo in for these auditions that they had coming up soon. The familiarity of the scene made me think back to Lottie, to everything that was happening back home, and I wished, silently and not for the first time, that it could be possible for a person to exist in two places at once. 

The spuds took their time baking but soon enough they were ready and piping hot, fluffy on the inside and with a crisp exterior. Rosie gathered up the butter and cheese at my signal, face lighting up at the prospect of being able to drown her own in the latter, whilst I pinched the tops of the spuds with a clean tea towel and plated them up, spattering them with a small amount of herbs.

I was going to keep Marshall’s wrapped up in tinfoil, if only to save it from going all horrible before he had the chance to try such a delicacy, but thankfully he’d worked his way back up the stairs just in time. I wondered how he’d managed it.

“Hey, you’ve got table duty.” Rosie exclaimed as soon as she saw him bustling over the threshold, handing the cutlery she was already holding to him without a second thought, which caused Em to blink down at his hands whilst he struggled not to drop the sudden weight he'd just been shafted with.

“‘Scuse me?” Marshall prompted, brow furrowed as his gaze wandered about the rest of the kitchen. I wondered what he thought of the bubbling pot of red sauce sitting on the hob, as well as the absurd amount of butter both Rosie and I had already lumped onto our steaming plates.

“You can set the table, Dad.” Z explained as she jumped back to help me with the mushrooms, her voice edging the line of a whining lilt, “We cooked! So it’s only fair.”

Marshall stared at her for a second longer before he ultimately snorted, “Right.” He murmured, recapturing his hold on the silver he held and eyes finding mine, before he spun round on his heel and left the room once again with a small smirk. When he returned, his plate was almost ready and just about to be loaded up with– “The hell’s that?”

I withheld my snarky reply in favour of smirking when Rosie answered for me, her eyes widening in the face of her father’s obvious leery expression. “Beans, Dad. El told me it’s one of her favourite meals, she wanted to share it with us.”

It wasn’t hard to hear the undertone there, the kind that told him to keep quiet on how he felt about the bubbling bowl I was currently holding because Z obviously didn’t want me feeling disheartened in any way. It was adorable, as was the stern face she’d paired with it, the same face that her dad found hard to waver against. His shoulders slumped ever so.

“Right.” He repeated for the second time tonight, dragging the first syllable out a tad, “Looks good?” He tried. 

I had to laugh then, “That a question or statement, Mathers?”

His eyes flickered over to meet mine, but I motioned for Rosie to get a start on heaping the cheese we’d grated onto her plate, the girl’s responding grin was giant. 

“I–” Em appeared stumped for a split second before he eventually just pressed his lips together and decided to jump in on helping us. Although he did complain when he spotted the frying pan sat off to the side, “Mushrooms too?” But with Rosie’s short warning of Dad, Marshall only appeared to raise his hands in mock surrender and then moved over to grab the plates so that he could carry them off into the next room.

I shared a conspiratorial smile with the younger girl before we followed after him, the three of us settling into the same seats as we had occupied the day before. Marshall still looked wary, even with his beans being hidden beneath a thick layer of cheese that I figured he had reasoned to himself would mask whatever taste was under it, but Z, to my utter surprise, looked ready to dig in.

“Changed your tune there, lovely.” I mentioned with a sly smirk, my gaze lingering on her long enough to catch the sheepish reaction she bore before she just shrugged and dipped her head around a grin, fork already in hand.

“Smells good.” Was the excuse she used and so I softened my face into a smile too.

“Well you helped so of course it does,” I quipped easily, picking up my fork as well before nudging Em’s forearm, “Come on, you big baby. Just try it. If you hate it, I’ll order you whatever you want. On me.”

That had him rolling his eyes, but he picked up his knife and fork with a determined expression.

I bit back a round of chuckles I could feel bubbling in my throat and used my chin to getsure for the pair of them to get stuck in. Rosie was quick to tear into hers and I was silently thankful for the way the potato easily broke apart under her knife, its texture fluffy and golden.

“Oh wow, this is so good.” She blew out the second that she could, already moving onto her next bite whilst Marshall was still working his way up to trying his own. “When you first showed me those beans? I was so sure I was gonna puke.”

I snorted quietly at that image, perfectly content with the plate of home I’d gone and conjured up for us, whilst Em’s face wrinkled. “Well if you had hated it, you’d have only had your Dad to blame, he’s the one who bought them.”

“I jus’ looked up British shit, they were top five on every list.” Marshall defended before he finally took a bite, slow in the way he raised his fork to his mouth, his eyebrows raising a little as he let the taste settle in, “Shit.”

My eyes narrowed a tad around the smile that I was chewing on to keep hidden but I watched him cut further into the potato, beans and melted cheese puddling around the sides. “That a good shit or bad shit?”

“Three dollars.” Z acknowledged, voice muffled by the food she still had in her mouth.

I laughed at that and shook my head in fond amusement before I turned to Em for an answer. He took another bite, a big one, something I took to be a good sign, and just nodded. My brow quirked in hope. “So good?”

He hummed, one shoulder shrugging, “Ain’t gone die if I finish it.”

Snorting, I could only shake my head at him, hiding my smile behind my fist. “Idiot. You like it.”

Marshall rolled his eyes, though the gesture was obviously fond as he raised his fork to point at me, “Just grateful you didn’t burn down my damn house.”

Rosie’s giggles filled the room and with them we all settled in to enjoy. Marshall asked after his daughter’s day and the girl was all too happy to ramble and rant to him, face lighting up at the prospect of it. She mentioned her English lesson, the book they had started on and how her teacher had explained this one paragraph to her class, then she went into detail about the play that was set to happen just before the Christmas break. I chimed in here and there, putting in my two cents where it was worth, but in truth, I was perfectly content to simply listen and watch on. 

The clean up that followed was mainly made up of me and Z messing around and singing to the music Em had stuck on, never the type to linger in silence. The pair of us did manage to rope the man into joining us once he had loaded up the dishwasher though, something he thoroughly complained about but followed through on all the same. He was just a sucker for his kid's smile, I reckoned, went above and beyond for the girl and it was all too easy to see.

It was a lot later that we all fell into a comfortable silence around the tele, Rosie sat crossed legged on the sofa with her homework whilst I offered help whenever asked. Marshall had joined the two of us a little later, after his phone had rang and he’d stepped out to take the call, he’d padded into the room with only the explanation of ‘Royce’ before he’d fallen into the seat beside me. I’d hummed but was too distracted by Rosie’s newest question to prod him further on it.

By the time she had finished up, handwriting practically perfect, her books had fallen into a heap on the coffee table and she’d slowly but surely scootched her way further up the sofa. I kept my eyes on the tele when I’d outstretched an arm in quiet invitation but hadn’t missed the grin she’d given in turn before she’d settled into my side, head coming to rest on my thigh. I caught Marshall’s watchful stare from out of the corner of my eye but didn’t glance back over, smiling at the scene that played out on the screen whilst my hand smoothed over the girl’s hair. 

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed between us before Marshall’s quiet cough broke the peace we’d since created, but the sky was more of a hazy cast of dark blue now rather than the ruddy auburn that had lined it much earlier. I stifled a small yawn.

Rosie sniffed softly in my lap, twisting a tad to cast her Dad a quizzical glance. Throughout the duration of the film that Z had picked out for us to watch, the man had gotten close enough that he now only had to drop his shoulders to poke at her cheek.

“Bath and bed, kid.”

The scrunch that overwhelmed Rosie’s face at the order had me grinning and so I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before moving my hand to pat her shoulder. “Up and at ‘em, soldier. Heard what the old man said.”

“Do I have to?” Z huffed, just as a hand came up to rub at her eye. Marshall’s mouth ticked ever so slightly into an amused smirk, his fingers replacing mine in an effort to smooth the front of her hair. 

“School tomorrow.” He reminded her all too gently, dropping his hand lower to shuck the underside of her chin which only made the girl smile sleepily. “You know the deal.”

She sighed heavily in retort, but did eventually make the move to push herself up and out of my lap, legs stretching across the couch cushions before her feet found the floor. It was just as she went to stand that she turned to face me though, her expression a little meek but rapidly losing the residual somnolence it had just held. “Will you do my hair again for me tomorrow?”

I was caught by surprise at the question she’d asked. I wouldn’t lie, but I didn’t let the reaction show as I smiled warmly back at her, reaching out to tap a finger on the top side of her hand, “‘Course. Anything you want, lovely.”

Rosie’s little grin had her eyes squinting and forced the corners of her mouth to pinch upwards in a move that only deepened her dimples. She leaned over to give me a hug of thanks, whispering the word into my ear before she pulled away and rounded the sofa, kissing her Dad’s cheek on her way out.

“No messin’ about, Z. An early night, ‘kay?” Em reminded her, leaning against the back of the couch so that he could tilt his head far enough to see her, “I’ll be up soon.” He added, his words met by another charming grin whilst she shook her head in fond exasperation and slipped out of the room, leaving just the pair of us and the tv. 

It was a long while before Marshall disturbed the quiet once more, the film we’d been watching had finished some time ago and so now all that was playing on the screen was a couple repeats of South Park and the odd advertisement. “She’s different with you.” I heard him voice.

With a furrowed brow, I let my head turn to find him. He was perched in the same position he had been, but now with an arm stretched along the back of the sofa and a knee bent to fill the small gap that still separated us. “What d’you mean?”

When he replied, it was low and soft, a murmur if not for the sincerity behind it. “She don’t act like that ‘round nobody.” He told me, fingers jumping in a steady rhythm on the back of the cushion, his eyes peering between mine. “Me, sure. She’s a fuckin’ koala when she wants to be, but with other people… it’s something she second guesses.”

His words confused me. Or rather, threw me. “I don’t get it.”

He dropped his gaze, blowing out a small but mirthful huff through his nose, his thumb dragged along the edge of the sofa. “You known her what, three days? And she don’t think about gettin’ close to you. Sure she’ll be coy with it, sly even, but that’s ‘cause she don’t wanna overstep with you. Like that right there–” Em said, getsuring his chin out towards my lap, I followed the gesture, then blinked back up at him, remembering the way she’d approached me, “She don't do that with people.”

My face must have given away to the fact that I was still trying to process the weight of what he meant, because his smile was soft, warm even.

It made me think of Lottie, who was always so open with her affection, who gave it out without thought or focus, her smile always great, always there. Then of myself. I tended to avoid affection where it mattered, a reason as to why I’d never let many people too close to my heart, why I hadn’t had something fulfilling to divulge when Marshall and I had spoken about past exes, I supposed. It baffled me to see some of the same tendencies I’d shown growing up in Rosie, in a girl too sweet, too loving, too happy to be so aware of how to guard herself.

I looked to him again and let him have his fill, allowed him to see how his words, the sentiment behind them, had pierced through the armour I’d long since moulded around myself. 

One side of his mouth lifted and he used the hand resting on the back of the sofa to circle my wrist, leaning in a little closer, filling that previous gap. “Ro’s had her mom, her sister. They’ve been there. They love her, and she loves them. I know that. But with Kim, it ain’t always parentin’, it’s fun and games. It’s showin’ off, not showin’ up. It’s messin’ around until she finally grows–” 

He paused there, eyes flickering left and then right as his tongue swiped over his lower lip, almost as though he was resentful of the term he wished to use. 

He settled for, “Bored. Or maybe jus’ tired, you know? She’s there until it's her time to step up and do the job she’s ‘sposed to, til it's missed recitals and forgetting pick-up, that’s when she reacts. Pulls away.”

He sighed, gaze caught on his fingers, on the easy way they engulfed my wrist. His thumb brushed over the freckle that dotted the bone, and continued on through a slow exhale, “Ayla, she’s a lot older. She does her own thing, she’s got school, work, friends. Z obviously filters into all that, but there's always been a small divide. I like to think it’s just ‘cause of their ages– it’s how me and Nate worked growin’ up, you know? But there’s this whole idea that fuckin’ messes with my head, like maybe it's all down to me. Ayla’s my niece, but she’ll always be one of my own. I love that girl as much as I love Rosie. More than life itself. But I know I hurt her, havin’ her here, watchin’ me fail and fuck up whilst she was growin’ up. And jus’, maybe I can’t help but wonder if I ever let her know that enough, that I loved her, if it’s that that’s impacted her relationship with Z.”

I was quick in my attempt to soothe his doubts, the hand he didn’t hold jumping over to lay across the top of his own. “I’d call you an idiot, but I reckon you already know that.” I chuckled halfheartedly, though my smile was genuine when his eyes snapped up to meet my own, “You’re an amazing father, Em. I honestly believe that with my whole heart. And it doesn’t take much to see it either. I mean, I was here not even a day and was so quick to see the love you held for your daughter. I saw it in your reactions too when we called, when you spoke of them, however brief it was. I haven’t met Ayla but I don’t think I’d have to for me to see that your worries are just that, worries. I’m sure that girl loves you in the very same sense that I am sure that she knows you love her. That you see her as much more than just your niece.”

My thumb trailed over the back of his hand, skimming knuckles, taking in their slight discoloration, the faint white lines that could have only been age old scars. I dipped my head a tad so that my gaze could align with his shadowed blues, prompting him into lifting his eyes from off the floor.

“I’m also honoured that you think Rosie’s comfortable enough around me to mention the gravity behind it, that you’d trust me with her company, let alone her affection.” I said sweetly, gifting him another smile, it was close lipped but one that appled my cheeks. His stare caught onto it, fingers tightening around my wrist by a fraction in a squeeze that showed only his appreciation. So I squeezed back, fingers fastening over the top of his fist. “Z’s hard not to love, she’s all of your best parts and more. Sometimes…” 

I took a small breath, fretful over saying what I had intended to until Marshall met my flickering gaze once more, silently prompting me on. I swallowed thickly, feeling the force of it travel through my throat, but did follow through, “Sometimes it’s just hard raising kids, I guess not everyone’s made out for the harsher reality of it all. Of having to be a parent and not a friend. I mean, it was forced on me in a way, I’ve been raising my siblings since Danny the day came along, since before I knew what being a mum meant. What one was.” The weight of that admission had me reeling for a split second, at the truth it held. But I pursed my lips before allowing my eyes to find Marshall’s once more, “Kim, I’m sure she tries, I’m sure it’s more than my mum ever did, ever could do, but it’s okay for you to fear that it’s not enough for Z, too.”

Marshall worked his jaw, blinking for a second before he eventually spoke, voice rasping with the emotion he felt. “Kid deserves the world.”

I found myself grinning at that, the teary kind which glossed over your eyes but was strong enough that you couldn’t prevent the fluid motion of it. It was without thought that my arms came up to wind their way around his neck and I relaxed further in the gesture when I eventually felt his face come to rest against my shoulder.

“She does.” I murmured, hand cupping the back of his neck, fingers resting over the fine hair which lined his nape. “She does.” I heard myself repeat again as my eyes slipped closed. 

When we parted, I watched as Em knuckled the corner of his eye, grunting faintly to clear his throat and rid the room of any tension that then clouded us. I felt the corner of my mouth twitch, but did look away towards the tele when he started to shift once more, giving him a sense of security that he hadn’t been caught out, that I wouldn’t dig too deeply into his reaction. 

“Thanks.” He murmured after a stunted moment and it was only then that I glanced back over to him. I smiled in turn.

“Nothing to thank me for.”

When we parted ways for the night, I chose to head on up to bed, mind so full of thoughts that I found it hard to latch onto a singular one, whilst Marshall stopped at the bottom of the staircase to gift me a quiet goodnight, eyes caught on the reflection of moonlight that crept its way across my cheek, the sight mirrored on his own face.

I didn’t know it then but I would eventually, he’d never felt so inspired.

So as I’d slipped beneath my duvet, my mind stuck on the words we’d shared, Marshall was back down in the studio, writing away once more. But this time, it was for a completely different reason.

[partially-controlled-chaos]

Technically speaking I assume Halsin doesn’t join your party while exploring the Underdark because he wasn’t originally a permanent companion. So it’s probably just a left over mechanic from that. However, I like to headcanon that he prefers to stay in camp because he’s secretly afraid of venturing back into the Underdark.

And I don’t mean it in a “oh he’s afraid of the dark or afraid of fighting what’s lurking down there”, but I mean it in a way that’s relating to his trauma in the Underdark. Because at that point we’ve seen him fight against goblins and, depending on your choice to bring him along, against the goblin leaders. He’s mentioned that he’ll kill when necessary, it’s just not the preferable choice. And when you get to the shadow curse, sure he’s not exactly happy about venturing into darkness and shadows, but it doesn’t keep him from walking head first into the Shadowfell portal to find Thaniel or going with you to fine Oliver.

But I like to think that he doesn’t join you while adventuring out in the Underdark because that’s the one thing that’s actually terrifying to him. He makes the comment that he doesn’t know what happened to the Matron and Patron of the house that kept him captive when he tells you about his history with the area. So really for all he knows, and really for the player, they could potentially still be somewhere in the Underdark. Like they could have somehow survived the attack and retreated to the shadows. And even if they’re not and they are truly dead, who’s to say there isn’t the possibility he could be recaptured and start the cycle all over again. And I could see this being heightened considering he was just freed from a goblin camp.

An offhand comment with the drow siblings in Act 3 hints that Halsin is well known in the Underdark as being able to turn into a bear. And given just how busy he was with the Grove he surely didn’t have time to return to the Underdark to explore and show to the residents there that he can wildshape. And I very seriously doubt he goes to Baldur’s Gate and do the same thing. So, like others have mentioned, I like to assume he got that reputation while being captive and his captors would brag to others that they have a surface dweller that can turn into another creature. It makes him unique and an oddity. And could make him being seen as something to collect now that his previous “owners” are gone in some way. He could be seen as a target if he were to go back. I’d like to think it’s a very real fear that he could have.

And yes, he will go into the Underdark when you make camp because you can see and interact with him, but he won’t join your party to go out and explore. So with my headcanon that he’s afraid to return there, I also like to think that he agrees to go into the Underdark but won’t go out because he feels safe at camp. Not everyone goes out with the player as they do their thing in the Underdark, given that you can only have 4 members at a time, so it leaves at least 3 camp members with him at all times. There’s people there that can fight with him if it comes to it.

So even by going into the Underdark, he’s not alone like he was last time. So in the event someone does try to stop by and scoop him back into captivity, either his previous captors or someone completely different, he has allies there with him and who will protect him. Not because he can’t protect himself, but someone that would fight to keep him from being captured again. He’s in an unsafe and potentially triggering space, but at least in the camp he’s safe.

And yes, he is the one who brought up the Underdark to begin with, but he does give an alternative route to the player and even admits that the Underdark, while dangerous, is the preferable route.

And I know he still won’t join the party until after Thaniel has been plucked from the Shadowfell, but he sets off to Thaniel almost immediately once you get to the shadow lands and won’t join until he knows he’s safe. So with that he’s all of a sudden “in the field” instead of just hanging around camp, I just like to think it’s because he’s out of a bad area and can focus on what’s important.

I’ve probably put WAY too much thought into this, but it’s just my own little headcanon for Halsin staying in your camp for the remainder of Act 1.

[getaandlucius]

A brief taste of honey (an emperor Geta love story)

This is a story of two men, of rage, war and eventually: love. Inspired by Gladiator 2 characters Geta and Lucius.

Summary: Former emperor Geta survives but falls now under Lucius' regime. An unexpected story unfolds. Part 1

Authors note: if the beginning of this part upsets you, please feel free to send me a request for a story evolving around our lovely Caracalla.

I also do realize this pairing is quite niche, so if you like to read more about them, please leave a comment or share!

Warnings: death, injury, mentioning of depression, severe stress.

Part 2 ( Part 1)

“Caracalla is dead.”

Lucius turned around. “Excuse me?”

“One of the watchmen killed him. By accident.” his guard told him, looking apologetic.

“What do you mean, by accident?” Lucius struggled to stay calm, though rage bubbled inside him.

“Caracalla had hidden one of his fibulae, sharpening it into a weapon to stab Marcus in the eye. He became positively feral!”

“Yes, I know that part,” Lucius replied impatiently. “But why was he killed?”

“Marcus elbowed him in the temple,” the guard admitted, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Too hard.”

“You fools,” Lucius muttered under his breath. “Where is Marcus?”

“At the healer. His eye was stabbed.”

“Yes, I fucking heard you the first time.” Lucius sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. He turned around and made his way toward the infirmary, wanting to have a word with the man.

Once he arrived, he immediately spotted him and strode over, his steps purposeful.

“This is bad, Marcus." He started. "How are we to show the people a new way forward—ways of fairness, law. Of order—when we can’t even control our temper?”

“It was self-defense,” Marcus argued.

“Was it now?”

“Yes.”

“But instead of going to the healer after you got stabbed, you waited until Caracalla was recaptured to elbow him in the temple?”

“...Quite right.”

“So, no self-defense at that point, then?”

“...No, Lucius.”

“Just vengeance?”

“Right.”

“Do you realize I now have to fabricate a believable story as to why Caracalla didn’t deserve a trial like the rest of them?”

“Yes." Marcus looked to the ground with his one good eye. "Just tell them Geta killed him.”

“Contrary to popular belief, that’s unlikely.”

“They don’t know that.”

“My people do.”

“Then tell them he killed himself. Out of despair after being defeated.” Lucius shook his head. These were all weak suggestions and he was starting to get frustrated. To his relief he spotted Ravi in the adjacient room of the healing quarters and made his way over to him.

"A word Ravi?" He pleaded in a low voice. Ravi nodded and took him to the back. Lucius explained his dilemma.

“Caracalla didn’t have long to live anyway, Lucius." Ravi comforted him. "He has been seriously ill both mentally and physically for quite some time now. The signs were already severe, the people know. Tell them he simply didn’t make it.”

Lucius listened in silence, then nodded. “Okay. I'll think about it.”

As he left, he wondered how Geta would react to the news of his brother’s death.

He didn’t have to wait long to find out. A few days later, Lucius overheard the guards whispering about Geta’s breakdown. They spoke in hushed tones, describing how he had become hysterical, repeatedly banging his head against a stone wall until he knocked himself unconscious.

The news left Lucius uneasy. Another dead brother would raise too many suspicions. While the majority of the populace supported him, he could not afford any more unrest or conflict.

“Send him to the healer,” Lucius ordered one of the guards. “And bring him to me after my assembly. I need to have a word with him.”

Later that evening he met with the temporay council. “I can’t have them both dead,” Lucius began the gathering. The council consisted of Ravi and two advisers far into their eighties, whose fathers had been connected to his grandfather, Marcus.

“Why not?” Augustus, one of the advisers asked, his pen drifting above a sheet of paper.

“We need to keep the peace.”

“Who is there to corrupt the peace? The people will follow your lead.”

“If you think there is no polarization among the populace, you’re gravely mistaken.” Lucius rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on.

The other adviser, Marius joined in. “Who are you talking about, Lucius?”

“Well, for one, the elite. The death of both Caracalla and Geta will alienate the senators and the military leaders previously assigned to the twins—they have a vested interest in maintaining the status quo. These groups rely on the existing imperial system to preserve their power, wealth, and influence.”

"He's right," Augustus agreed. "You risk provoking various factions within the elite, who may seize this opportunity to claim power for themselves. We're on the brink of a power vacuum here."

“But we all agreed the twins are not to be trusted!” Ravi jumped in, frustration apparent in his voice. “We agreed we were to put a stop to tyranny, and the simplest way is to execute them both." He stood up from his chair, facing Lucius. "I don’t condone killing for no reason, but this is a reason. A good reason. You’ll save thousands of lives and improve the lives of thousands more.”

“Yes. But Rome is not ready!" Lucius exclaimed, slamming his hands on the table. How could they be so ignorant? How could they not see there was more than their idealistic ideals?

“What do you suggest?” Marius asked, his tone mocking. “Keep him in our midst? Make him our friend and hope he won't get into a mood and murder us in our sleep?”

Lucius shook his head. “We’ll keep him imprisoned—but not in the dungeons." Lucius explained. "He’ll kill himself that way, if only out of spite after realizing we need him." He shook his head. "No. We’ll keep him locked up, but in one of the rooms in the east or south wing. We’ll let him acclimate, speak with him, and slowly introduce him as a symbol of peace to the elite while we begin implementing our ways. Once our reforms are set, we’ll put him on trial—a symbolic one—to show our modern way of thinking. Then we’ll exile him.”

“Exile him where?” Ravi asked.

“Somewhere he won’t be able to bother us any longer. Maybe Germania, somewhere up north.”

Ravi looked deep in thought. "I'll sleep on it." He responded after a moment. Lucius nodded. "Let's discuss this further tomorrow afternoon." He looked around the room, waiting for Augustus and Marius to approve, then excused himself and made his way to his private chambers.

Half an hour later came a soft knock at the door.

The doors opened, and Geta stumbled in. Bandages wrapped around his head, his skin was pale and translucent, and the dark circles under his eyes had deepened. But this time, his eyes weren’t empty, they burned with rage.

Even though their last encounter had been underwhelming, Lucius braced himself, not trusting those wild, unpredictable eyes.

Geta clenched his fists, his breathing uneven.

“He’s dead?”

Lucius nodded. “Yes.”

“How?”

“I’m sure the guards told you.”

“I want to hear it from you.”

“Brain injury.” Lucius cleared his throat. “If it’s any consolation, it wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Don’t pretend you’re not relieved.” Geta spit out. “Everything you take from me...take, take, take. First my empire, then my freedom, and now my only family.” He took a step forward. “You leave me with nothing.” He sounded almost aggrieved, as though he still couldn’t believe it. He stared at his own empty hands. Then he brought a hand to his chest, struggling to steady his breath. He took another step toward Lucius, his eyes wide, his voice breaking. “Give me back my brother,” he demanded, as though he truly believed he could ask such a thing. That the gods could rewind time or restore the dead.

“I wish I could, believe me.”

“Liar. You filthy, disgusting liar.”

Lucius frowned at the insult but responded evenly. “For political reasons, this is bad enough as it is.” He pointed at Geta’s head. “Which is why I need you to stop smashing your head against walls and risking dying by accident.”

“Who says it would be an accident?" Geta argued. "I wouldn’t have minded if I’d died this morning.”

Lucius studied him for a long moment before nodding. “I believe that.”

“Then just kill me now.”

“No. You’re of use to the system,” Lucius replied, thinking it better to be honest with him.

“I’m to be your pet?”

“If you want to call it that, fine by me, but I prefer the term ‘asset.’”

“For what?”

“Keeping the peace.”

“All you think about is yourself,” Geta hissed venomously.

The irony of those words, coming from one of the most self-indulgent, greedy twins to ever exist, made Lucius chuckle softly.

Geta simply stared at him. Lucius shook his head and stepped closer. From up close, the toll of the past few days was even more apparent. The guards had warned him, but seeing it firsthand was far worse. Geta’s hollow cheeks, frail limbs, and the way he swayed on his feet made him look like he might pass out at any moment.

“You need to eat, Geta,” Lucius said, sighing.

“What if I won’t?”

“Then I’ll have to force-feed you.”

Geta didn’t reply. Lucius let his eyes sweep over Geta’s face.

“Aren’t you glad your brother isn’t alive anymore?” he asked carefully. Then he added, “He would’ve killed you in a heartbeat if it came to it.”

Suddenly, Lucius’s left ear went numb, and his cheek burned like fire. The world around him spun and it took him a moment to realize what had happened: Geta had backhanded him so hard, he nearly lost his footing.

“Don’t you dare ever say that to me again. Ever,” Geta growled.

Lucius rubbed the side of his head, the ringing in his ear replacing the silence. He stood there for a while, processing what had just happened, breathing heavily.

He shook his head. “Don’t do that again. You’ll regret it,” he warned, his gaze sharp as he searched Geta’s eyes. “Trust me on that.”

Geta glared back, still furious, but Lucius noted the grief behind the anger. He would have to tread carefully—men with nothing left to lose were the most dangerous.

Deep down, Geta must know Caracalla would have murdered him if it came to that. But the other way around? Perhaps not. That was food for thought, Lucius concluded.

They stood in silence for a while.

“I’ll arrange a new room for you, close to mine,” Lucius finally said, after the ringing in his ear had subsided. “I’ll assign a servant to ensure you eat and take care of yourself. And I’ll check in on you personally.”

Geta looked away, the fight draining out of him, leaving only sadness in its wake.

“I hope I’m dead by the time you check on me first,” he said, his voice hollow.

“I’ll see to it that you won’t be,” Lucius replied firmly.

“Well, don’t be surprised when your useful asset is no more,” Geta muttered.

Lucius looked at him, arms crossed. He wondered if Geta was being his usual dramatic self, or if he was truly a sincerely depressed man. Given Geta’s physical state, Lucius thought it might be developing into the latter. That was not good news.

Lucius clicked his tongue, then swayed the doors open and ordered the guards to take Geta back to his cell while his new confinement was being readied.

A few days later, a spacious room in the south wing was modified to hold a prisoner in confinement. Geta was moved from his old cell.

To be continued! Please do not share any of my work without my permission! Reblogs, likes and feedback are always welcome of course.

( Part 1)

[peachhcs]

will surprising sam and coming out to visit her at mich and going to her game

something other than hockey

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

ugh yes she has no idea he's coming until she wins the game and sees him after. later that night, they go out together getting somehwat drunk and then cuddling up togther on the couch.

2k words

warnings: underage drinking but that's really it

au masterlist

michigan led the score 3-2 with two minutes left in the final half. the crowd in the stands were on their feet going crazy and cheering on the lady wolverines to keep up their lead. the ohio state women played dity earning themselves and the michigan red and yellow cards left and right. samy scaled the field with her teammates trying to recapture the ball while trying to watch her back after getting herself a yellow card ten minutes earlier for pushing one of the other girls over. 

ellen and jim were on their feet watching the game in anticipation with nearly every single men's hockey player scattered across the stands watching their favorite hughes play. ethan and mark stood at the front of it all making their section the most rowdiest. the two convinced their teammates to come out since it was the final home game and if they won this game, the girls advanced the elite eight—so much closer to the national championships. 

"let's go! run it up the field!" ethan hardly had a voice left as it rasped in his throat. 

the timer quickly itself down now with only 90 seconds left in the game. samy yelled things to her teammates as they started running towards the goal with the ball in their clutch. 

"take the shot! you've got time!" mark's voice was hardly there either. 

anytime the two went to samy's games they came back with a lot less voice than they started with. sometimes samy thought they were crazy for screaming at every game because a lot of the times they were the only ones screaming at the top of their lungs. 

one of the ref's whistles blew making a sign for a time out from ohio's side. everyone let out a collective, half annoyed sigh as the teams huddled together. 

"dunno why they're calling a time out. there's a minuet left and we have the ball. there's no way they're gonna score," ethan mumbled with a shake of his head. 

"osu's gonna dig for every chance they can get. i doubt they're gonna give it up that easily," jim mentioned. 

ethan and mark took the small break as an opportunity to rehydrate and hopefully make their throats less dry. "how you doing, smitty?" ethan shifted his attention to samy's boyfriend sitting to his right. 

the girl actually had zero idea will was in town for the weekend. it was his mission to finally surprise her and with this weekend being game less, of course he'd never pass up the opportunity to see his girl. 

was he missing all the practices this weekend? yes. would his coaches kill him for not being there? probably. would he sit bench at the next game? most likely. 

did will care? no. not at all. 

for once in his near 18-year playing career, he finally had something other than hockey to think about. hockey wasn't his number one anymore, nor would it ever be as long as samy was in life. 

"i'm good. getting worked up about this game," the blonde responded to ethan's question.

th older boy quickly nodded in agreement, "osu's playing like shit, yet we're getting all the cards." 

"the coach knows what he's doing. i think he's scared of samy knowing how well she's played this past season for only being a freshman," mark commented and the boys nodded in agreement. 

the whistle blew again and the girls got back into position. everyone's eyes were on samy as she traveled up the field alongside her teammates. something about the way she communicated and moved with four other girls reminded will a lot of his line with gabe and ryan. 

"put it in! show 'em what we got!" luca yelled from the back. 

the timer shrunk down to 40 seconds left. 

one of the girls passed the ball samy's way as she ran up the field towards the goal. osu's defense was strong, but boy was the youngest hughes stronger and smarter than them. 

"20 seconds!" ethan yelled. 

the crowd began counting down with the timer, so samy took her chances with putting it in. with her momentum from sprinting up the field, she did a near corner kick towards the goal. time slowed itself as everyone's eyes watched the ball soar through the air. 

osu's goalie jumped up, but she missed it by half an inch, so the ball scraped right past her finger tips and into the back of the net. 

screams erupted from the entire student section. the umich girls stormed the field in celebration while the boys jumped up in victory, immediately hugging one another. 

"for the first time in program history, the lady wolverines will continue on dancing to the elite eight! congratulations!" the announcer exclaimed through the speakers. 

will followed after the group of now excited hockey boys to the field to congratulate samy. he had been so wrapped up in the game that his nerves about surprising samy hadn't made themselves known until now. a crowd of students were already on the field sending their congratulations to the players it was hard keeping track of everyone. 

the blonde stuck himself close to ethan in fear that he'd get separated and lose the group. sweaty bodies hit into will almost knocking him sideways followed by a half apology that didn't really mean sorry. the boy quickly scanned people's faces hoping samy was somewhere close by and they could all leave the now crowded field. 

suddenly, someone squealed and ethan stopped walking. will's eyes flicked back over and he quickly caught sight of the girl wrapped up in mark's arms. all of the hockey boys crowded around the youngest hughes basically blocking will from her view. 

the blonde shifted on his feet waiting for her to finally notice him. his heart rate felt like it was pounding through his chest and he didn't know why. it was samy. his girlfriend. 

maybe will was freaked because this was the first time they've seen one another since summer ended and they went to college. talking over the phone and texting was one thing, but seeing one another in person was another. they only had two months of being in a relationship in person before college cut a wedge between that. 

finally, ethan stepped side, his eyes finding will's with a tiny smirk. samy followed the older boy's gaze in slight confusion before she met gazes with will. 

she stared at him for a good five seconds before jumping into his arms which almost sent both of them to the ground. 

"you're here. what are you doing here?" samy's grip was strong around will's neck. the boy smiled into her skin, breathing her in. 

"came to surprise you. got in this afternoon," he explained. 

having her in his arms and the way she held onto him eased all of the worries he had minutes before this. god, it felt so good. 

"don't you have practice? how'd you get out of it?" samy pulled back to see her boyfriend's face. he smiled a bit, putting her down, but not letting go. 

"i mean.. i didn't i just kind of left," will shrugged. 

"your coach is gonna kill you," samy couldn't believe he was skipping an entire weekend of practice for her. 

"they can do whatever they want to me if it means i get to spend a weekend with you," the blonde smiled softly. 

his words made the girl blush a deep crimson and it got even worse when he leaned down to connect their lips in a sweet kiss. the hockey players still watching smiled at the interaction along with ellen and jim. 

remembering that everyone was still watching them, samy carefully directed will's lips away from hers for the time being. he pouted some. "later," the girl mumbled before stepping away from him to greet her parents. 

"i gotta change and debrief the team. i'll catch you guys in like 20 minutes if you wanna wait around," the brunette looked back at everyone. 

"you got it little hughesy," ethan threw a thumbs up in her direction. 

the girl chuckled. she kissed will's cheek one last time before running off to join her teammates as they began walking back into the sports complex. a minute later, ethan jumped onto will's shoulders, a large grin on his lips. 

"i think that definitely went well. what do you think?" the older brunette asked. 

"definitely. thanks for getting me here," will grinned. 

"anytime, smitty. you're like our little brother now," ethan looked at mark who nodded. 

the younger boy smiled to himself at the boys' words.

—

later that night, samy and will found themselves tucked away in a corner couch at the senior hoceky house. truscott threw, so of course the invite opened itself to the youngest hughes and will. it was a good way to celebrate with some of her favorite people after today's big win.

the two made their rounds saying hi to everyone, but samy found them a couch off in a side room. the alcohol buzzed through their systems—sometimes samy had a hard time saying no when someone offered her a shot. plus, she thought she deserved it, too.

will definitely wouldn't pass up free alcohol, so he followed the girl's lead. now, the couple cuddled into one another letting the party drown out around them.

"'m glad you're here. i missed you," samy mumbled with a soft smile.

will's learned that samy became extremely affectionate and talkative whenever she was drunk, but he certainly didn't mind. he'd listen to her talk for hours.

"missed you too, pretty girl. feels like it's been forever," will hummed, eyes never leaving hers.

a small frown replaced the smile, "i know. wish we didn't live so far apart now. facetime isn't the same."

"winter break is soon, though. we'll get to see each other then."

"if my parents let me go to sweden. boston and another country are two completely different things," the brunette mumbled.

will almost forgot he was going to sweden for the us world juniors. that seemed so far away and now it was almost here. he squeezed samy's thigh that was draped across his lap.

"still can't believe you skipped practice to come see me," the girl changed the subject for now. her grin returned earning a smile from will.

"well what else am i gonna do? not see you until who knows when?" the blonde playfully raised his eyebrow.

"never known you to skip hockey practice for someone, especially a girl," samy chuckled. her hands reached up to play with will's curls on the nape of his neck not covered by the hat he had on.

her touch sent sparks down his spine and a little skip in his heartbeat.

"i guess things change."

"if you could rank them, what's first?" samy kept firing her random questions.

"you," will said without hesitation.

"me?"

"yes, you," the blonde smiled.

"you're lying," a laugh escaped the girl's lips as if she didn't believe her boyfriend.

"no i'm not," this time it was will's turn to be confused.

samy read his look, gently shoving him away from her, "come on, smitty. you've been focused on hockey for..for since we were born. there's no way anything could ever replace that."

the way she called him smitty, picking it up from gabe and ryan some years ago, did something dangerous to the boy. he gently shook his head, intertwining their fingers.

"that was before i realized i've been missing what's right in front of me all along. it's always you, samy," will said softly creating another deep blush on the girl's cheeks.

"god, you're so corny," the brunette rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless.

will cupped her cheek, bringing her lips closer to his since their kiss earlier was cut short because of everyone watching them. they connected in another sweet kiss.

samy's lips tasted of strawberries and vodka that only made will kiss her harder wanting to get every inch of that taste off her lips.